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fuckyeahdindjarin · 3 months ago

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Prima Nocta

Marcus Acacius x Virgin!F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: DUB CON only due to nature of prima nocta, both parties enthusiastically consent, twist on prima nocta, unspecified age gap, loss of virginity, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex, unrealistic descriptions of first sexual experience, all manners of historical inaccuracies and linguistic anachronisms sorry not sorry, ignores the events of the movie so you can consider this an AU, Marcus is widowed and has a son, shall we call this bfd: Ancient Rome version lmao

Notes: I'm a bit rusty for sure, but I had the absolute best time writing this oneshot. It's a departure from my usual themes to say the least, but once this idea took hold of me it never let go. I know prima nocta is meant to be invoked on the wedding night, but I like the idea of it being the night before so I made it so 🤷🏻‍♀️ Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics as always.

He thought he had gotten away with it. Having lived more than fifty winters in the capital and outlasting eight emperors, he regrets to confess that he is still none the wiser.

It would have been such a clever manoeuvre. Palming off a generous but very much unwanted gift from the emperors, and marrying off his son in one fell swoop.

He should have been suspicious of their swift assent to his proposal. In his eagerness to bow out of their audience, it had been convenient to dismiss the flash of malice in their eyes.

And in the snake pits of Roman court, no misstep goes unexploited.

He is not proud that he is caught off guard by the emperor’s closest advisor who intercepts his walk home from the armoury, even less so of his ineloquent response to the missive handed to him.

‘What is this?’

‘Urgent word from the emperors, sir.’

Cold sweat prickles the back of his neck as he stares unseeingly at what is scrawled on the parchment.

‘I cannot,’ he blurts out, indignance rising fast and hot in his chest. ‘I will not.’

‘You think it wise to twice refuse the emperors’ generosity, general?’

General. To him, the culmination of a lifetime of service and sacrifice. To them, an instrument of bloodshed in war, a plaything in peacetime.

Desperate, he tries a different tact. ‘The right of the first night belongs to the emperors. I dare not commit sacrilege.’

‘It is not sacrilege if it is freely bequeathed upon you, general.’

There is no mistaking the warning lilt in the last word, and he has no answer.

‘The hour grows late. You had better not keep the bride waiting,’ says the advisor with an air of finality before retreating into the shadows.

Marcus shudders at the cold that settles into the empty space, fingers stained with ink from the now crumpled dispatch.

He remembers nothing of the remainder of his short journey to his quarters. As the front door swings open, he realises there is something in the night air that is out of place.

Sea salt.

You are here.

Would you be demure? Frightened? You are of royal lineage, a lady of the small but proud coastal kingdom strong-armed by Rome into an unequal treaty for its profitable trading posts, in return for the mercy of not being razed to its fertile grounds.

And now, you are lowered to marry a general’s son.

Worse, lowered to have your virginity taken by his father.

Candlelight spills from the crack underneath the door to his bedchamber. Marcus takes a deep breath, and pushes it open.

You hear him. The swish of fabric, the slide of leather soles on marble.

The general is here.

Your hand in marriage is part of the terms of the treaty, and the missive that sent for you announced your match as the widowed hero general. You had him cast on the wretched journey from your home as one of the domineering, brutish soldiers now garrisoned at your family’s kingdom - only to be told on your arrival that you will be marrying his son instead.

Relief at the news that your future husband would not be decades older than you is instantly snatched away by furtive whispers of prima nocta.

Your future father-in-law will take you first.

The humiliation is bitter on your tongue. You are Rome’s to marry off, hers to give to whomever she pleases -

But she won’t break you.

The door creaks. You stand tall and hold your ground.

He sweeps into the room with an air of well-worn authority, the cloak on his back dark as the shadows that nip at his heels.

The candles flicker when he sheds the heavy robes with a smooth sweep of his arm.

You stare, in a manner that would have had your lady-in-waiting tutting. But you are alone, very much so, with this man not ten paces from you.

General Marcus Acacius.

He is older, certainly old enough to have a son your age. But you had not imagined him so - strong, for the lack of a more imaginative word. His shoulders are broad under his wine red tunic, and you can see the muscles in his arms flex as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. From where you stand, you can hardly see any silver in his dark curls.

Marcus unflinchingly assesses you right back.

No, you are decidedly not demure. Or frightened. Far from it.

You are defiant, even as you observe him with evident curiosity. Your head held high, a telltale sign of your noble breeding, mouth set in a stern line while your eyes burn bright with a proud fire.

Judging the silence has gone on long enough, he breaks it with a formal, ‘My lady.’

‘General,’ you answer steadily.

The door slams shut belatedly behind him, and you flinch - the first glimpse of weakness you concede.

Marcus breathes in, delivering his next sentence with as much composure as he can muster. ‘I expect you have been informed of the - formalities that we are to perform tonight.’

You grind your teeth so hard you are astonished that your jaw doesn’t crack.

Your virtue is just a formality.

Refusing to dignify his question with an answer, you nod once.

He watches you wordlessly, and you meet his gaze. You thought you would find something else there, not the regret that you see.

Turning away from you, he reaches for the amphora on the table.

‘Wine?’

‘Yes, please.’

The wine is drunk in silence and moderation. Him at his desk, you perched on the end of the bed.

As you sip, pacing yourself, you observe the general discreetly from across the small distance between you.

To say that you are disconcerted by his behaviour would be an understatement.

You assumed that he asked for this - for the perverse pursuit of deflowering his son’s bride-to-be while eschewing the unwanted responsibility of a wife.

Yet, watching him stare pensively into his goblet, lips pursed in a pout that is almost sullen, you are not so certain anymore.

When you bring your drink to your mouth to find it empty, you clear your throat. ‘I have to wake up early tomorrow morning - for the wedding.’

The general starts before collecting himself, drawing himself up to his full height as he sets down his cup with a heavy clunk. ‘Understandably, my lady.’

Then he moves, charting a course across the room, licking his thumb and index finger to douse the candles dotted around the space.

The thought comes to you unbidden - he has thick fingers. And big hands.

Your cheeks tingle with heat.

Soon the chamber is cloaked in darkness, save for the candles next to the bed, the warm light pooling in the most inviting manner on the soft surface despite your trepidation. You long to rest your aching feet.

He comes to a standstill on the other side of the bed, as if waiting for you to take the lead. You cannot decide whether you are thankful for him not imposing on you, or frustrated at him for not taking the lead in what is very much unfamiliar territory.

In the end, the desire to get off your feet wins out, and you gesture at the bed. ‘Shall we…?’

‘Certainly.’ He bends down, you assume to take off his sandals. You do the same, toeing off the soft leather slides the maids had you change into when they dressed you.

Once barefoot, you climb in with as much grace as you can summon, acutely aware that you have an audience. Your knees sink into the mattress, and you’re relieved that it is stuffed with feathers, luxuriously giving under your weight. Shifting primly, you find your back against the headboard, cushioned by equally soft pillows.

The general follows suit, the frame creaking as he eases onto the suddenly too small bed, strong shoulders brushing yours as he settles next to you.

You stare hard at the back of your hands, the only way to stop your gaze from wandering to the span of his fingers splayed wide on sturdy thighs, or lower to the bony ridge of his knees - gods, you must be unwell, since when have you been drawn to knees?

You are still questioning the state of your sanity when the general, who has been nothing but unperturbed and composed since he stepped into the room, stumbles over his words in a manner that is neither, as if he had held the question behind his teeth for too long.

‘Are you - are you absolutely certain - in no doubt - that you are… untouched?’

His question stings like salt in a festering wound. Indignant doesn’t even begin to describe the retort you spit at him. ‘Yes, I am. Are you?’

Peering at you sideways, his eyes widen at your outburst, and fear briefly flits across your heart that you have overstepped.

But then, he surprises you with a smile. ‘You bite, don’t you?’

You let your shoulders sag, too far gone to hold onto your facade.

‘It’s been a long day, sir,’ you admit. ‘To be frank, I just want to get this over with and forget it ever happened.’

He pauses at your confession, as if weighing his options. Then he shifts, and says, ‘The reason I ask if you were untouched is because, if you were not - we could have just pretended we did this.’

You frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I did not invoke prima nocta, it was imposed upon me. The emperors are displeased that I turned down the betrothal, this is their way of punishing me for my ungratefulness.’

Oh.

As much as you didn’t want this either, your pride suffers to hear him describe it as a punishment.

‘I know…’ you stumble, halting to steel yourself. ‘I know I am nothing like the women here in Rome. I spend too much time in the sun, and my hands are rough from working with horses -’

‘Why do you say that?’ he interrupts you.

You look away. ‘That is why you do not wish to marry me, is it not? And why you do not want this - why you do not want me.’

The general sits up, palms on the mattress to support his weight, the lines on his forehead deepening with a frown. ‘No, that is not the reason. You are young, you deserve a husband who can build a life with you in the years to come. Not a washed-up widower.’

The bitterness in his voice turns your head.

‘You’re not washed up, from what I hear.’ Somehow, you find the courage to add boldly, ‘Or from what I see.’

Letting your eyes trail unabashedly over his broad frame, a thrill chases through your blood when you notice his Adam’s apple bob with a tight swallow. He’s so close that you know you’re not imagining the heat seeping into your bones.

Silence stretches between you, charged with a consciousness that creeps in and spreads. Two souls from different worlds and stations put in a situation in which neither of you had a hand. This may not be how you imagined giving away your virtue - far from it - yet your stomach twists in anticipation.

You glance upwards, only to find him already watching you.

Something has shifted when you so bravely reached out and tipped the balance with your words. He can tell that you are not one for flippant flattery, and it takes him a moment to collect himself, harder said than done with the blood roaring in his ears.

When he speaks, it comes out in a much lower register than he intends, so much so it sounds like a secret.

‘You say you just want to get this over with. But I can - I can make it good for you. It doesn’t have to be something you want to forget.’

Your eyes widen and your lips part, and heat blooms almost uncomfortably in his chest. ‘You would do that for me?’

‘I will serve you in whatever way you ask of me tonight, my lady.’

Never have mere words, albeit delivered in such a delicious baritone, moved you so. You came in expecting to have your virtue stripped from you, the same way Rome callously stole you away. Where you thought humiliation and dishonour awaited, this man is offering deliverance and devotion - if only for one night.

Your throat tight with emotion, you nod in lieu of a spoken answer.

Marcus is deliberately slow in his movements, wanting you to feel safe in his presence. ‘How much do you know? So I know what I need to teach you.’

Despite yourself, shyness rears its head and you mumble, ‘I’ve - I’ve heard stories. I know what… happens… between a man and a woman in the bed chamber.’

He nods reassuringly, making you feel less of a fool for the juvenile answer you gave. ‘And has anyone touched you before?’

There’s no mistaking the lurch in your stomach as your heart hammers violently. ‘No. No one. Never.’

The protector in him stirs, summoned to duty, warring with the desire that seethes under his skin like the unholy flames of Vesuvius. He fears it is a quickly losing battle.

Reading the desire in your endearingly open face, Marcus reaches over you to settle one hand on your hip as he leans close, his breath warm on your cheek.

‘Have you ever kissed a man?’ he rasps.

You shake your head, eyes fixated on his mouth, framed by a tidy moustache. He is so close that you can see his beard is flecked with silver.

You swear the general is leaning into you, and every inch of you is on tenterhooks, enraptured by his proximity -

‘You should save it for your husband.’

You barely forestall the whine of protest that teeters on the tip of your tongue, pinching your lips together, but his lopsided smile tells you that he knows.

‘I can kiss you elsewhere though.’

‘Oh,’ you inhale shakily when he dips to mouth at the side of your neck, landing on your pulse point in a suckle. Your whole body arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheets, head spinning at all the sensations that are new to you - the burn of his stubble, the cool trail his lips leave behind -

Then the palm on your hip pulls you into him, sprawling you against the wide cage of his body, your breasts pressed against his broad chest. The dress they put you in is thin, and the fabric rubs against your pebbling nipples as his kisses travel daringly low.

‘Am I going too fast?’ he pauses, voice strained.

Breathlessly, you shake your head.

‘If you want me to stop, or wait, you say the word. Understood?’

‘Yes, general.’

Two words he hears daily from his men, and yet from your lips, they unleash a dangerously feral side of him.

More. Is the only coherent thought that remains.

Impatient hands reposition you so that you are astride him, and he groans when you slot flush in his lap. He watches your eyes widen at what you feel between your legs. Your dress rides up, and his blood rushes south at the bare expanse of your inner thighs on his skin.

‘I want to see you,’ he speaks plainly, palms squeezing the dip of your waist. ‘May I undress you? Please?’

All decorum flees you, and you might have chanted yes, yes, yes to his question.

Dropping your chin, you watch his thick fingers nimbly undo the knot holding the front of your dress together. The silk capitulates like water, tumbling down in delicate drapes around your waist, baring you to his heated gaze.

‘You are beautiful,’ he declares with a solemnity that steals your breath.

And it is easy to believe him, the way his dazed eyes trail over your breasts, before his hands follow. Calloused palms, which you are sure have held many a sword in triumph, now cup your tender flesh in reverence.

Your head lolls to the side as he teases you, but when he rolls his hips upwards, your eyes snap to the pained expression on his face. You’ve heard ladies in court whispering over wine about length and girth, but nothing could prepare you for the thrill of feeling a man’s undeniable desire for you.

Instinct guides you, moving your hips so that you are grinding against his length, seeking relief from what is building deep within you.

‘Do what feels good,’ the general murmurs encouragingly, palms on the small of your back to let you take control.

And just like that, you are thrown back to one summer’s day in your youth. You were bathing in a rock pool, under the spray of a waterfall in perfect solitude when you accidentally slipped forwards on the smooth stone surface. The unexpected sensation between your legs ripped through you like lightning on a clear day. And you chased that feeling, hips undulating until you shuddered and cried out. Knees trembling in the aftermath, you never dared to seek it out again, but neither did you forget.

And now, years later, you finally know what had transpired. Pleasure. And this time, under the general’s hooded gaze, you pursue it with single-minded determination.

Marcus wishes you knew how beautiful you are in this very moment. Breasts swaying in tandem while you rock back and forth on his clothed length, eyes glazed, every whimper from your swollen lips making him throb harder for you.

‘Good girl,’ he rasps, throat tight. ‘Take your pleasure. Take what you need.’

And when he sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail, tipping forward at an angle that unexpectedly takes you apart.

The waves that wash over you are more intense than you remember, and you are sure that has to do with the man holding your hips to his as you buck, and the warm swirl of his tongue against your breasts, sucking and nipping as you come down from your high.

‘That was not your first time,’ he states as a matter of fact when the white noise in your ears finally fades.

‘It happened once, a long time ago, and I didn’t understand then -’

‘And now you do.’

‘Yes, general.’

This time, he lets loose a moan at your words. ‘I can feel your wetness through your dress.’

Confused, you look down, and your cheeks burn when you spot the dark patch on the delicate fabric. ‘Oh, I -’

‘It’s natural,’ he assures you. ‘The wetness makes it easier for -’

It dawns on you when you feel his hardness twitch under you. Oh.

‘It - you feel -’ you stutter, struggling to comprehend how the girth of what you are sitting on could possibly fit inside you.

Taking your hand, Marcus presses a chaste kiss to your palm, eyes warm and open.

‘We will take it slow. I will use my fingers first, to prepare you for me,’ he explains patiently. ‘I promised I would make it good for you, did I not?’

‘You did.’

And you have complete faith in him.

Your knees knock into each other hopelessly when he slides you off his lap, and he has to bodily prop you up against the pillows. Sinking into the soft feathers, you watch him kneel between your parted legs, and you feel so safe even as he towers over you.

‘May I disrobe you?’

You bite your bottom lip, and nod.

Except it’s not a disrobing, it’s nothing near as civil as that. The general rips the rest of your dress clean down the middle, rendering you completely bare beneath him.

Marcus knows should be ashamed of his brash behaviour. But how could he when you react so viscerally, jaw slack as your chest heaves in unmitigated desire?

His gaze shamelessly trail over every curve and dimple, from the breasts he has tasted to where your knees are demurely closed, and knowing that he is the first - the only - to have laid eyes on you makes him impossibly hard.

It matters not that you are not his to keep. This will always be his.

‘You are exquisite,’ he professes, voice tight.

You duck your head, more shy of his compliments than being nude before him. ‘You don’t have to.’

Sliding a finger under your chin and tilting your head until you meet his gaze, he assures you, ‘I mean every word.’

Then he moves down the bed until he can rest his weight on his elbows, and you startle when rough palms glide over the outside of your thighs, stopping at your knees.

He pauses to give you time. ‘Are you certain you wish to continue?’

Your answer is a confident yes.

Then, as if opening the shell of Venus, he delicately pries your knees apart, and his breath hitches as you are revealed to him.

He is aware that he’s staring like an imbecile, words failing him. As the silence stretches on, you become self-conscious.

‘General,’ you demur, moving to cover yourself.

Shaking his head, he finally says, ‘Forgive me, but you are perfect.’

Then he looks up at you with such intensity that has you struggling to catch your breath, and without breaking eye contact, he bows his head -

And closes his lips over you there.

You are wholly unprepared - no one has ever gossiped about this in court. Your hips buck violently off the bed, but Marcus holds you down with reassuring hands, suckling on the pearl between your thighs with gentle laps of his tongue.

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ you stuttter, torn between watching the man wreak the most devastating pleasure on you and averting your gaze.

You’ve only ever known worship to be pious, and yet, this most vulgar adulation is the closest you’ve been to the gods.

His beautiful curls brush the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, catching the candle light as he moves, and the crook of his nose - so proud even with the scar on its bridge - draws patterns on your skin as he stakes his claim where no one has ever touched you.

You quickly realise that what you felt just now in the general’s lap was insignificant and thin in comparison. This pleasure is all-consuming, something divine that has you weak and trembling all over. All you hear are slick, wet sounds of tongues and lips, and your own whimpers between garbled groans.

Marcus feasts on you, unapologetically. Flattening his tongue, he tastes you in broad sweeps, moaning into your sweet cunt as you writhe above him, your needy mewls driving him to the edge of madness. You taste like fig - the earthiness of the purple peel, ripe sweetness of the pink flesh.

Then your hands wind into his hair, pulling him closer, ankles hooking over his shoulders. He groans harder, the sound rattling in his ribs as you soak his beard. Surrendering any last vestiges of shyness, you rock against his tongue, nails scratching his scalp as you whine louder into the night air.

Moans that will echo long after you’re gone.

The thought alone hardens his resolve to mark you unequivocally. You’re close, your pliant body quivering and breaths coming in shallow gasps now. He peers up at you, but your eyes are sealed shut and upturned at the gods, your breasts heaving.

Gently, he eases one finger inside you, and he grunts at how easily he slides in. You barely react, and so he pushes back in with two, coaxing a cry from you. Your cunt clenches as he gently thrusts his digits in and out, stretching your tight walls.

‘Oh gods. Oh gods,’ you pant violently.

You’re close, so close. He wants to warn you of what is to come, but it feels like sacrilege to tarnish the moment with words. When he feels you begin to quiver, he laves at your clit harder, burying his fingers inside you to the knuckle, until he feels you crest and break.

‘Gods, oh gods - Marcus!’

The cry of his name catches him off guard. He nearly loses control right there and then, as you ride out your high on his fingers, but by some miracle he holds out through gritted teeth. He devotes his attention to kissing his way up your body, from the slick inside of your thighs, to the side of your hip, making you jump when he sucks on your sensitive breasts.

You stare at his mouth with wild, dark eyes, and him at yours, but he vowed to leave your first kiss to your husband. Girding his self-restraint, he asks, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, Marcus.’

His cock twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He wants to hear you say it in all manners of ways - whisper it, gasp it, scream it. And by the cheekiness in your smile, it’s clear that you know what he’s thinking.

Your eyes drop to where his hardness is pressed against you. ‘Will you teach me how to please you, general?’

He swallows a groan, the animal in him rattling the bars of its cage. He replies diplomatically, ‘I will teach you how to teach your husband.’

In one smooth tug, he shucks off his tunic, then his loincloth, and he tries not to be self-conscious under your watchful gaze. Pulling you against him, skin on naked skin, he smears kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at your answering shudder. In return, you run your lips and scrape your teeth over his collarbone.

Taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, he slides it all the way down his chest and wraps your fingers firmly around his throbbing cock, his pained moan in your ear.

Eyes wide, you marvel at the size of him in your grip. ‘You are so big.’

Marcus curses through clenched teeth. ‘You are an insolent girl.’

With a wicked glint in your eyes, you correct yourself, ‘You are so big, general.’

If he wasn’t so aroused, he would have chuckled at your cheek. Instead, he growls, ‘Such insubordination.’

Tilting your head to one side, you grin. ‘And how would you discipline me, sir?’

He lets the silence linger for a beat, allowing anticipation to build as one big hand splays over your ass, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear. ‘I would deny you my cock, my lady. Let your sweet cunt weep for me, empty, not knowing how good it would feel to have me deep inside you.’

You are unsure if you are more shocked at the explicitness of his words, or at the gush of wetness that has you pressing your thighs together. If you had to wager a guess, he is just as affected as you by the way his length pulses in your grasp.

Marcus smiles as he takes in the way your body reacts to him. ‘But how can I deny such a lovely, desperate creature such as yourself?’

A sob escapes you. ‘Please, Marcus - I’m yours to take.’

With that, all self-restraint abandons him, and his lips crash into yours. At the back of his mind, he knows you deserve a better first kiss, something gentle and sweet. But to your credit, you seem to take it in stride, winding your arms around his neck with a deep groan as he deepens the kiss. Opening up your mouth, he sweeps his tongue against yours, making sure you taste yourself and the pleasure that he had wrung from you.

When he reluctantly pulls back for air, you hum, ‘I thought you said I should save that for my husband.’

He all but snarls, ‘Damn your husband.’

The possessiveness in his tone sends you reeling, and his resolve wears even thinner when your cunt brushes against him, so wet and soft, begging for him.

‘I cannot wait any longer,’ he declares.

You bite your lip beseechingly. ‘Please, Marcus, I cannot either.’

He braces himself above you on strong arms, until all you can see is him, backlit by the soft candlelight. Beholding his beauty - the wisps of gray at his temples, the scar lining his cheekbone - your breath catches at the tenderness in his eyes as he stares down at you.

Holding the base of his cock, Marcus notches himself at the entrance of your cunt, trembling as he holds himself back.

‘I will go slow,’ he assures you. ‘If it hurts, you tell me to stop. Understood?’

Your mouth dry, you can only nod.

Holding your gaze, Marcus rolls his hips ever so slowly, jaw slack when he breaches you, inch by tortuous inch.

He is barely inside you and you already feel so unfathomably full.

‘Marcus,’ you gasp when it gets impossibly tight, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

He stops, and whispers encouragingly, ‘You are doing so well for me, taking me so beautifully. Just breathe.’

In between his patient, languid kisses, you unfurl, and Marcus gently pulls back, before pushing into you, deeper this time.

When you cry out, he shushes you, brushing the wet corners of your eyes with his lips. ‘Does it hurt?’

You shake your head. ‘No, it’s just - so much.’

‘I know, I can feel how tight you are gripping me,’ he mumbles into your neck, throbbing inside you while he holds himself still as you adjust. ‘Brave, sweet girl.’

When you find your voice again, you give him cheek. ‘I am a woman now, general.’

He smiles at you - a warm curl that crinkles the corners of his eyes endearingly - and claims your lips again. Feeling the tension seep out of your body, he thrusts shallowly so you can learn the movement of his hips. When he hits a spot that makes your jaw drop and your hips buck, he pulls all the way back, and drives himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

And with that, you become a part of his soul, and his yours. His chest swells with the fiercest possessiveness and the greatest honour all at once, despite knowing that the circumstances that brought you together will inevitably tear you asunder at the break of dawn.

‘Marcus!’ you choke on a sob, throwing your head back, your walls clutching his cock in a merciless grip.

‘There she is,’ he grunts, mouth scraping the shell of your ear. ‘Say my name like that.’

And you do, over and over again, as he fucks into you. His pants land harshly in the crook of your neck with every thrust, hands greedily squeezing all the skin he can find - the curve of your ass, the dimple in your waist, your thigh to hitch it over his hip.

Looking down at you, eyes drunk and unfocused as you stare back at him, each squeeze of your wet cunt around him, every breath from your lips feels sacred.

He is seized by a sudden need to know. ‘How does it feel?’

Your eyes soften, and he shudders when you cup the side of his face to bring his nose to yours. ‘Divine.’

Marcus loses himself in you, in the wet squelch of your cunt around his length, the way your tightness takes every thrust. Words of praise that he doesn’t even hear tumble from his lips and onto every inch of skin he can reach as you cling to him, scraping your nails down his back and digging into the meat of his ass.

Pitching forward to press a hard kiss to you, he says, ‘I want you to fall apart for me again.’

‘Please, Marcus, please.’

Pushing himself up to his knees, still buried deep inside you, he spreads your thighs obscenely wide over his hips, and he moans at the sight of your cunt so full of him. With hooded eyes, he sucks on two of his thick fingers and brings them between your legs, carefully drawing circles on your clit, knowing that you are already sensitive from cumming twice for him before.

Your face twists in agony as he builds you towards another climax, patiently weaving the web of pleasure that wounds you tighter and tighter until your spine feels like it will snap in two. ‘Marcus, oh - don’t stop, don’t stop, oh gods -’

He bares his teeth as he feels you start to clench around him. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Cum on my cock, let me feel you, give it to me.’

Your peak crashes into you relentlessly, and as you are swept away, you can only wail and thrash, while Marcus curses and stutters unintelligibly above you as he spins out of control.

He had every intention to pull out, but it is as if some higher power is determined to foil his plans. With a guttural roar, his hips snap flush against yours, big palms grasp you so hard by the waist that you squeal, and he spills into you in hot gushes, once - twice - and again until he is spent.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He doesn’t know if he said that aloud or if it was a trick of the mind. All he knows is that he eventually collapses bonelessly onto you, skin fused together with sweat and cum as your breaths become one in the crisp night air.

It is him who breaks the stillness, his old bones creaking when he stirs to relieve an ache in his back. His softened cock slides out of you, prompting you to whine in protest. He grunts when he looks down to see his cum dribble out of your cunt, leaving a pearly trail on the inside of your thighs.

When he meets your eyes, there is no awkwardness in the silence. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to spill my seed inside you. That was reckless.’

Your heart skips a beat at his admission, and you can’t hide the pride in your voice. ‘Do I make you reckless, general?’

He tries and fails to be stern in his answer, the tenderness with which he brushes his nose on your cheek giving him away. ‘I know better than to encourage your insolence with an answer.’

You are far from discouraged though, quite the opposite. Knowing you have this man - who commands armies of thousands - at your mercy is a siren’s call.

Peering at him from under your eyelashes, you curl one leg around his waist. ‘Do you want to be reckless again?’

He huffs, but a smile breaks through. ‘Have you ever been told that you are a cocktease?’

You hum teasingly. ‘I have never heard that word before, but I like it.’

‘You do?’ he breathes against your lips. ‘You like being my cocktease?’

‘Yours, general.’

Marcus is astounded when he feels himself harden again, and he moans as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck. ‘What spell have you cast on this old man, my little cocktease?’

You grin, letting him ease you onto your back so he can settle between your thighs again. ‘The kind that lasts until dawn.’

Eventually, morning must break, sure as the moon turns and the sun rises. In the golden rays of day, you will wed his son in ironic, virginal white, showered in rose petals. He will look on from the side in his finest ceremonial robes of red, as you walk away from him and into your new life as someone else’s wife.

But in the velvety folds of this night and many more to come, safely ensconced in the deepest corners of his memories, in lands far away, in war and in peace, there he keeps you - where you are not.

More notes: Thank you for reading! As usual, comments/reblogs/asks would be very much appreciated 🥰 I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I loved writing it!

#prima nocta #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator ii fanfiction #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x fem!reader #marcus acacius oneshot #marcus acacius smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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sonrium · 5 months ago

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DP X DC: A Minor Drinking Problem

Phantom is a relatively new member of the JLA, but it's been a few months, and things are settling in well. He's shy and polite but is a master of the snark with villains.

Before a big mission, the all hands on deck kind, everyone is talking about scars and the crazy stories behind them to distract from the coming fight. Danny, finally feeling like he can join in the conversation with all these adult heroes, pulls off his right glove to show a pretty gnarly scar on the back of his wrist. “I got this one when I fought a guy from the Revolutionary War a few weeks ago! Didn't think he'd charge me with a bayonet.” He shares a couple more stories and scars, but only the ones that he can easily show off.

Because of stories like that and some historical depictions of Phantom from different time periods, they think he's this ancient and powerful immortal that just looks like a teenager, it wouldnt be the first time. He's powerful enough to go toe to toe with Superman, so there's no way he's actually a kid. He even sometimes has the haunted, world weary eyes that their most hardened members only get after experiencing too much. Danny, being our lovable, obliviously dense idiot, has not realized that they think he's an ancient being.

After the mission concludes -it was a rough one-, the JLA celebrate their victory with a couple drinks back at the watch tower. Danny is understandably uncomfortable with this whole situation and keeps asking, “Are you sure I should be here?” They reassure him it's fine as they pass around beers, which Danny politely declines several times. Danny eventually sees this as the perfect chance to pad his blackmail folders on his inebriated coworkers.

Anyway, as the night goes on, they have a good time, but Phantom still hasn't gotten a drink like the rest of them, and Green Lantern (or hero of your choice) really wants their shy friend to come out of his shell. So, he slams an open beer bottle on the coffee table in front of Phantom. “Come on Phantom! Let loose a little. Celebrate!”

“Dude! What the hell?! I'm 16! That's illegal!” Phantom squeaks in shock.

“We don't care how old you were when you died. It's how long you've been a ghost that counts.” Flash slings an arm around Danny's shoulders from where he’s sat next to him on the couch. Flash can't get drunk, but he also thinks it would be fun to see their uptight new member drunk.

“That's even worse! You'd be giving alcohol to a two year old!” Phantom is horrified that his coworkers are so casually breaking the law.

“But you said you fought in the Revolutionary War this morning!” Green Lantern said with his eyebrows knit in confusion.

“No, I said I fought someone from the Revolutionary War. As in, the ghost of someone from the revolutionary war!”

“You can't pull that on us. There's murals and stuff of you from thousands of years ago.” The Flash waves off with a laugh.

Phantom’s finger presses painfully hard into Flash’s chest. “I do not need to explain time travel to you of all people. My mentor hates you, and I'm STILL sent on missions constantly to clean up your messes.” Phantom's clear and low. Flash liked it better when he was shouting and not staring him down like a predator with narrowed eyes.

(This random idea popped into my head. It made me laugh, so I thought you might, too. Here you go!)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #dp x dc prompt #plot bunny #the flash #green lantern #time travel

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bokunoheros · 4 months ago

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TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (keigo does talk ab making you a mommy tho, and you refer to yourself as his girlfriend once), reader is a civilian, this is pre-war, reader and keigo are dating, no lube no protection (all night all day), baby trapping lowk????, idk he nonconsensually cums in you and then proposes (you accept tho), creampies, cockwarming, kinda lazy ending?? idgaf GENRE: smut SUMMARY: it’s the start of mating season and keigo had just saved a mother and her child at work today, so it’s only natural for him to come home with the overwhelming need to knock you up. WORD COUNT: 2.6K 🦊’s A/N: keigo they could Never make me hate you…. anyway hope yall enjoy this fr

not only was today the first day of his rut, meaning his last day of hero work until the spring was over, but he had also gone out of his way to save a mother and her crying child while off-duty. he’d been heading home after an eventful and tiring patrol when he ran into them being threatened by a petty mugger—nothing he couldn’t handle, especially after the day he’d had, but he can imagine having a gun pointed to your face must be scary to an untrained civilian. now, he was brimming over with emotions, barely keeping his cool as he walks through the threshold of your shared home, slamming the door loudly behind him, wings all puffed up and ruffled.

“keigo? honey, what’s wron—” you’re suddenly cut off by a small flurry of his feathers sweeping you off your feet and carrying you from the kitchen towards where he stood in the living room, in the process of stepping out of his boots and shrugging his jacket off. you’re immediately taken aback by his serious demeanor and you open your mouth to say something, except that no words come out. what should you say?

“how was your day..?” you ask tentatively after a brief moment of silence.

rather than verbally answering you, he lets out a long, drawn out sigh and shakes his head — a response you’re unfamiliar with. usually, he isn’t afraid to yap for at least fifteen minutes about how his day went, what happened, and sometimes even the people or fellow pros he talked to! so for him to remain silent…. well, it’s safe to say you’re starting to get worried.

had you done something wrong? was today exceptionally challenging? your heart rate increases as your anxious thoughts swirl around in your foggy mind, and you don’t know where to go from here.

keigo knew what to do, though; he knew exactly how to relieve this stress.

taking a step in your direction, he narrows his eyes, intense, predatory gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, he’s leaning in for a kiss as he backs you up against the nearest wall.

the way he kisses you is controlled and barely put together, and you can tell he’s on edge, like he’s about to snap, so you say what you think he needs to hear.

“you can rough me up a bit, kei, i promise i won’t break.”

his eyes fly open at your words before narrowing as he nods before leaning back in with much more passion and any restraint right out the window. but he himself has said it before, he’s awful—he has no self-control; something that rang especially true when it came to you.

he’s spent whole evenings with his head buried between your thighs, eating you out until you’re crying and begging him to stop, saying it hurts, it hurts!, to which he always asks you for just one more. “one more” never meant one more, of course—keigo was greedy in this sense. he could never seem to get enough of you, always wanting more, more, more. if he could, he’d devour you whole, make you his entirely, and—that’s exactly what he was going to do tonight. he had been planning to propose for a while now, anyway. he had a ring and everything! he’d.. just been working up the courage to ask. so, then what better way than by deciding to knock you up on a whim.

well, …was it really a whim if he had fantasized about it before? the two of you had been dating since the summer of last year, meaning you haven’t seen him during his ruts yet, and, while he’s mentioned it briefly in the past, he didn’t actually expect to last this long with you so he never divulged the details of it—not because he wasn’t in love with you, but because he gave up on the dating scene because he’s always the one being dumped for being so. so. !!!! outwardly nonchalant about most things! or being married to his work, whatever they meant by that; he only worked so hard so he could have a future to relax in! no one ever seemed to understand that…. until he met you.

something just clicked between the two of you upon your first meeting—you were probably the most interesting person hawks had ever saved, be it your quirk, your personality and mannerisms, or even something as simple as a remark you had made in the five something minutes it took to save you; he found himself unable to get you out of his head for days afterwards, eventually causing him to seek you out to ask a bewildered you on a date—just one, he had originally said.

you said yes immediately for a multitude of reasons—he was fine as fuck, he’d literally saved your life the other day, not to mention he was witty, and spoke his mind, too—something keigo hadn’t been expecting. he knew all of the above things, and yet, found himself somewhat nervous as he handed you a bouquet of pale red carnations, red camellias, and baby’s breath. he’d stayed up all night researching flower language and symbolism, deciding on the perfect ones to give to you, as he knew it was rude to show up to somebody’s house empty-handed, and, also, because… he’d never really felt this way about anyone before. there was something so magnetic between the two of you….

but that’s enough reminiscing—he needs to be in the present moment, needs to focus on fucking you so good you go braindead on his dick, focus on cumming so deep in you, there’s no way you couldn’t not be pregnant with his child. keigo understood that having children as the number two pro hero would be no easy feat, but he thinks with you by his side, he can do anything.

sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, one gloved hand comes up to squish your cheeks enough to force your lips to part for him and he easily slips the wet muscle into your mouth, taking his time sliding it along the insides of your cheeks, the grooves of your teeth, and the roof of your mouth, carefully exploring every inch and committing it to memory (as if he hadn’t already).

meanwhile, his other hand settles on your hip, massaging it lightly for a moment before his grip quickly tightens and he’s coaxing your tongue out of your mouth and into his as he begins to suck on it.

“mmh,” you hum pleasantly, starting to drool as you let keigo decide how to use you in order to relieve his stress.

“missed ya t’day, dove,” he murmurs against your lips before nipping at your tongue and you feel your heart flutter. what had gotten into him? you weren’t necessarily complaining, but you still felt a little worried about him if you were being totally honest.

keigo, sensing your unease, slowly pulls away from the kiss to ask if something was wrong, just for you to deflect the question back onto him.

“‘m fine, it was just a long day is all,” he tells you in earnest, leaving out the part about the beginning of his rut. “need’a feel you s’bad, though,” he breathes out, moving to kiss you again; tilting his head, he slots his lips back over yours, and it feels like he’s going to eat you alive. and, truthfully, he just might.

before you even realize what he’s doing, he’s picking you up, wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, and carrying you into the bedroom where he’s pinning you to the mattress, wings spread wide for you to admire as you look up at him. you’re sure his words held a bit of truth to them, but he was behaving a little oddly for reasons you couldn’t put together yet.

him being a horny little shit wasn’t the unusual bit, but rather, his upbeat demeanor was nowhere to be found—even if it was an act almost all the time, it still felt weird to see him so serious looking.

“kei…”

“shh, stop worrying, sweets,” he shushes you, leaning in for another hungry kiss. you oblige him of course, parting your lips and poking your tongue out to meet his as you close your eyes

his large wings create an almost dome around the two of you, shutting out the world, only leaving room for the two of you, and not another soul.

perhaps it would be best to sit back, relax, and let your boyfriend play with you… so that’s exactly what you do, settling fully onto the soft bed and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in closer—something that had him smirking against your soft lips.

it’s not long before you’re both naked, having grown too hot for the unnecessary layers separating your bare bodies, and soon, you suddenly have a pillow tucked under your hips, keeping them at an angle—something that confuses you.

“keigo?”

“just relax, dove.”

he leans in closer, bringing his lips to yours as his one hand grasps at your hip, blunt nails (that he has to trim daily, mind you, lest they grow into talons) digging into the tender flesh there while his other grabs at his leaky cock, tapping it against your clit a couple times before lining it up with your slit and slowly pushing in, doing his best to show restraint and not bottom out in one fluid motion. you both groan at the feeling, the stretch so deep you almost feel nauseous.

bringing two fingers down to your pulsing clit, he rubs semi-rough circles against the little bud, trying his hardest not to overwhelm you, but needing to hurry up and get you off so he can stuff you full of his cum.

“mmmh,” you moan quietly as he focuses on working you up to your first orgasm out of many for the long night he had planned for you.

it’s not long before you’re cumming with a cry and suddenly, keigo’s got his dick lined up with your slick little hole, easing himself in as he bites his bottom lip, trying not to whimper.

“fuuuck, you’re so tight, sweets,” he groans, rocking his hips into your, unkempt pubes brushing against your neatly trimmed ones.

your hands come up to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, before you’re tugging at his wings, and you feel his dick twitch inside you.

“don’t,” is all he’s able to get out, burying his face in the crook of your neck, where he begins sucking and biting at the skin there.

“why not?” you grin like an idiot, already knowing the answer. you knew damn well just how sensitive keigo’s wings were—already having had this discussion when you first started having sex and you went to grab at them for the first time.

“don’t ask stupid questions when you know the answer, dove,” he warns.

you, ever the brat, decide to start stroking on his wings, and you feel his hips stutter and teeth sink into the column of your throat.

“nngh–!” you whine, tugging on the bright red feathers. keigo moans loudly at this, and quickly grabs the backs of your thighs to fold you in half and start fuckin’ pounding into you—his thrusts are fast and sloppy, and the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin turns you on even more, pussy drooling around his dick.

it doesn’t take long before keigo’s cumming deep inside you without warning, something that has your eyes flying open.

“k–keigo–! y– you just— you..!” the words aren’t there as panic begins to settle in. something you had both agreed on before you started fucking was that even if you did it raw, he had to pull out—kids were a big no for the both of you.

but here was your boyfriend, fucking you throughout his orgasm and working his way up to a second as he looks down at you with a gaze so intense, you feel small beneath him.

tugging at his wings again, you cry out his name as he fucks his cum into you, just for him to ignore your pathetic mewls and pleas.

“k– kei—!”

“gonna knock y’up so good—g’nna— fuck— g’nna make you a mommy—”

your face flushes deeply at his words—is this what had gotten into him? the urge to breed you? knock you up?

“f–fuck!” you pull at his wings, rolling your hips upwards as best you can as he desperately ruts into you. this triggers keigo’s second orgasm, his pelvis pressing flush against yours as he cums hard.

“nngh—! hnnmg—fuck,” keigo moans as his hips still while he spills another load deep within you. “shit— y’feel so fuckin’ good, baby—”

this continues for what seems like ever, but in reality is maybe fifteen minutes of your boyfriend fucking into you until he physically can’t cum anymore, until tears are running down his cheeks from how overstimulated he is, and he’s collapsing on top of you with a tired sigh.

“k–keigo— we— we can’t—” can’t what? “‘m gonna get pregnant— y’gotta let me get up,” you try to say, shoving at his chest; but it was no use, he was dead weight.

“good,” he says breathlessly, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“n–no! not good! i— we’re only dating! what would the media think if they found out the number two pro hero went and knocked his girlfriend up?!” your concern is genuine, but also stems from selfish reasons. you’re sure the reporters would hound you the moment they caught a whiff of something fishy, and—

“then marry me.” his words are so serious sounding that they immediately break you out of your own mind and your eyes go wide with shock and awe. had he seriously just. proposed?! while still being balls deep in you!?

“huh!?” you sound just as caught off guard as you look, and keigo cranes his neck up to look at you, expression the most serious you’d ever seen it. …okay, so he obviously wasn’t joking around, but, but–!

“you heard me. …i’d been meaning to get you a ring for a little while now, but couldn’t find one i thought you might like, so…..” his cheeks are flushed and face sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead as he gazes at you so tenderly, your heart can’t help but feel full.

“i— keigo, i…” he waits patiently as you fumble with your words. “yes,” finally falls from your lips, a grin tugging at the corners of them.

unable to say anything else, you cup his cheeks with both hands and press kisses all over his handsome face before you slot your lips over his and lean in slowly, almost teasingly.

keigo, ever impatient, leans in to close the gap, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head as his hips twitch and he pushes further into you, causing the disgusting amount of cum stuffed in your cunt to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and drip down to your puckered asshole. after that, it doesn’t take much longer for keigo to fuck you both to sleep.

and that’s how you found yourself in the exact same position one year later, having put your first child to bed no less than an hour ago, with your now husband pinning you to your shared mattress, talking about how he wants a second kid—how beautiful you looked pregnant the first time, and how he’d love to see you like that again. so, he makes it happen. and then one more time after that.

return to KINKTOBER | PRO HERO M.LIST

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dreamsteddie · 2 months ago

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Nancy knows what people think when they see her and Steve together these days. People mostly include Robin Buckley who, despite what they both say, Nancy doesn't completely believe isn't carrying some kind of torch for the man.

They aren't dating, but it's obvious to anyone who knows them that's what Nancy is angling for. She's not subtle, and she's not trying to be. Doesn't see any reason why she should be. But she knows what it looks like. Nancy Wheeler, fresh off an amicable but heartbreaking end to her relationship with Johnathan Byers has turned tail for a rebound with former boyfriend Steve Harrington. She's using him. She's leading him on. She's going to break his heart, again.

The truth is that Nancy has always liked Steve, was in love with Steve for a fleeting moment when they were both young and stupid and full of mistakes waiting to be made and in the end they had hurt each other, misunderstood each other, too many times to last through their tumultuous teenage years.

The Nancy and Steve of 1984 couldn't have loved each other right, but Nancy knows in her heart that the Nancy and Steve of 1987 could make something beautiful.

Steve is so different from who he used to be. There's a steadiness in him that he always tried to emulate but never fully embodied until the summer of 1985. He always knew how to make her laugh, how to get her to tap into that adventurous spirit within her and live life, but now he also makes her feel safe.

She wants to hold him the way he used to hold her. Wants to whisk him away to New York and build a life perfectly balanced between her ambition and his steadfastness. So she's putting everything she has into rekindling those embers that have always smoldered between them into a steady fire.

She just has to convince Robin that she's in it for the long haul this time.

------

Robin thinks that before she met Steve Harrington her life was never so much like a soap opera.

Her best friend seems to attract danger, betrayal, and romance to him like the world is full of moths and he's the only flame for miles. It would be funnier if it wasn't so god damn annoying sometimes.

Steve doesn't know it, despite how much he insists on being some kind of love expert, but he's got two very eligible bachelors vying for his hand at the moment. She's pretty sure they both see themselves as tragic heroes in this tale of romance, but from her vantage point, it's more like two ornery cats fighting for the prized spot of their owner's lap.

Nancy and Eddie have made themselves both near-permanent fixtures at the Family Video. Ostensibly, they come in because Hawkins is still in the process of rebuilding and there isn't much to do at the moment outside of wandering the woods, loitering at the convenience store, and watching movies at home. In actuality they're both trying to monopolize as much of Steve's time as possible, each trying to lock down his weekend plans before the other.

The first couple of weeks it was funny just to watch, now the only enjoyment she gets out of the whole circus is ruining their plans. She relishes the pissed-off-priss look she gets from Nancy when she asks Steve to go to the drive-in the next town over and Robin turns it into a group outing instead. It's equally funny to watch Eddie's puffed-up shoulders droop when he can't figure out a way to say no to Robin enthusiastically asking if she can join them at the trailer to smoke up on a Saturday night.

In truth, as much as she enjoys messing with them, Robin knows who she wants to win this war. She knows too much about Steve and Nancy's past and all the ways they weren't good for each other to trust her deceptively fragile best friend in Nancy's capable hands.

Eddie, on the other hand...well she's still going to make him work for it before she throws him a bone.

------

Eddie's never been one to fall in love.

He's had crushes, shared a few kisses with girls and boys alike, and lost his virginity in the same fumbling but meaningful way most teens do.

But love? He's never had that before, wasn't sure what it would even feel like.

It turns out that for Eddie, being in love feels a lot like being an overgrown house plant that's finally been moved into suitably a larger pot.

You see, Eddie knows a lot about growing up on his own. Raising himself and finding ways to survive, if not thrive, with a distinct lack of nurturing. He knows how to grow under someone, to grow under the clumsy guidance of his uncle Wayne who never intended to become a parent. And most of all he knows a hell of a lot about growing despite. Growing under the harsh boot forever trying to push him back into the hard dirt he came from.

It's something else entirely to grow with someone in the way he's been growing with Steve.

Steve who was there when he woke up, almost equally as injured as Eddie himself after a second, world saving round with Vecna. Steve who let Eddie lean on him in the difficult month of physical and emotional recovery that came next. Who helped Eddie come to terms with the new reality he was living under the way Steve wished someone had been there for him after his first encounter with the Upsidedown. Steve, who on paper should have been one of the people pushing him down, always gave Eddie the space to be himself and never tried to force either of them into a box they didn't fit.

Eddie knows he's not The Girl. He's not the one who got away, he's not the stalwart princess in one of his campaigns who saves the day herself but still gets the guy. He's not Nancy Wheeler.

But he's also not a quitter, and even if everything about the world and the narrative arc of their lives says that Steve will never end up with him, Eddie knows he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't put his hat in the ring for the hand of the fair Sir Steve.

------

Steve's not stupid.

He knows that there's something happening between Nancy, Eddie, and himself. Knows that if he chooses to look a little closer, to examine why exactly all his weekends are suddenly booked up and Robin has taken to stealing the Recese's Pieces off the shelf whenever either one of them comes into the store like she's settling in for a show, he would come to the conclusion that two of his best friends are essentially courting him in competition with each other.

But Steve isn't looking closer.

His mom always said that he was just like his father, too stubborn for his own good.

Robin says he's a control freak, pushing non-life-threatening problems off until he knows how to deal with them on his own terms.

The truth is Steve already knows how this will end, and he knows how this should end.

Because in the eyes of society, in the arc of the narrative, Steve and Nancy should already be making plans to move out to New York and start a life together. Steve should be looking at apartments while Nancy finalizes her class schedule. He should be looking into getting a job at his dad's New York office to support his future wife through her college education where they both know she'll breeze through her classes and move onto the world-changing career she was always meant to have, while Steve stays home with their children like a perfect little modern family.

And the thing is, if the story had gone like it was supposed to, if the world had been saved the fourth time around and Eddie Munson had died on the cold, hard ground of the Upsidown, that's probably exactly the future that would have happened and Steve would have never known to not be content with it. But Eddie did make it, and while Steve mourns the future he could have had, he knows it's not the one he's going to choose in the end.

Even though Steve knows exactly what will happen when he allows himself to face the ever-mounting tension between the three of them, it's scary to take that plunge.

Everything about Steve's world up until Robin has told him that what he's going to choose will damn him forever, and even if he's never put much stock into God and the church, he knows that the future in front of them will never be easy. There's a part of him that wants to take the easy way out. He's never been attracted to a man before Eddie, never had to imagine himself loving someone discreetly, and the thought of it makes his heart hurt prematurely. It would be simpler, he knows, to choose the path most taken.

But Steve has always thought more with his heart than his brain, and he knows that after everything they've been through, after all the time they've spent healing together and growing as one that he could never choose anyone but Eddie.

The time is coming for him to make his final decision, he can feel it, but for now he'll let them sit in this liminal space a little longer.

#steddie #stranger things #dreamer speaks #fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckly #this one is a little different #but it's been floating around my head for a while #lmk what you think!#Edit: 12/22 for spelling and gramatical errors

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suhkusa · 7 months ago

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HELL OF A WOMAN.

PAIRING. Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader

CW. slight enemies-to-lovers, some angst but not heavy, fluff, you're both snarky (romantic), ~4k words, slice of life, reader has a healing quirk

A/N. i'd say slowburn but it's only slowburn because i barely ever write fics this long lol

Throughout your time in the nurse’s office as Recovery Girl’s student apprentice, you’ve met many different students. They all varied– whether it be their quirk, their grade, or even the injury they had come in for.

Students from the general education, support and management departments rarely ever made their rounds to the nurse’s office, only coming in for a simple cut or bruise.

That left you with those in the hero department.

You got along well with nearly all of them, even going as far as becoming friends with a few. And while that was true, of course there were gonna be some who you couldn’t get along with. But, there was specifically one student you could not stand. And he’d probably say the same thing for you as well.

It was none other than Bakugou Katsuki.

———

The first time you really interacted with Bakugou Katsuki was within the first month of your apprenticeship. It was in your 3rd year, and you had already been managing well.

Your day had started off fantastic. Recovery Girl had left you to run the office by yourself, thoroughly trusting your working and communication skills, so that she could run errands out of town.

The office hadn’t been too busy, allowing you time to finish a bit of your homework at your own little desk next to hers. A few people came and left, just needing a simple healing of their arm or leg.

You had been lost in thought when he slammed the door open, practically huffing as he walked in. Putting your pencil down, your wide eyes looked up and met his own. It felt as though he was burning a hole straight through your skull with the way he stared you down.

You didn’t even have to ask to know who he was. In your first and second year, his face was plastered nearly everywhere throughout the media. Bakugou Katsuki. But you’d never talked to him. Well, until now.

Assuming he’d be like every other person who walked through that door, stating their business then quietly leaving, you broke the deafening silence.

“Uh, yes?” you let out, cringing internally at the way the words came out.

Bakugou looked around the room before back at you, “Where the hell is the old woman at?” he spat.

You were seemingly surprised at his not-so-subtle entrance and dirty language.

“If you meant Recovery Lady by “old woman”, then she’s out of town for some errands. I can help you if–”

“And who the hell are you?” he snapped before you finished, impatience laced in the way he spoke and stood before you.

You could practically feel how your jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed at his blunt question. If he didn’t hold back, then why should you?

“I’m Y/N L/N, I’m Recovery Lady’s helper. Now,” you put on the most calm and collected voice you could manage, “what the hell do you want?”

The day was going well, before now at least, and you were not going to let some egoistic, cocky guy ruin it for you. Tug of war is a game with two different sides, and you weren’t gonna let him win victoriously.

Bakugou’s face scrunched up at the words you spat right back at him, opening his mouth to retort something– probably an insult– before letting it fall shut with a grunt.

“What the– Just put a bandage on this shit,” he held his arm out for you to see a scrape wound running up the length of it.

You raised an eyebrow as you glanced between the injury and his eyes that looked down at you expectantly. And waited.

“The fuck you staring at?” he spoke– yelled, really– before stepping a bit closer.

A smirk tugged up at the corner of your lips before you sat back in your spinning chair, crossing a leg over the other. Like you were the one expecting something.

“You–”

“Please.” you cut him off, lifting a hand to inspect your nails nonchalantly. Hm, maybe you should get them done.

“Like hell I’m saying that, do something about–”

“Please.” you repeated, emphasizing the word in a louder tone. You looked at him from behind your lifted hand, the smirk that once teased at your mouth now sitting there fully– mocking him.

“Fine! Fuckin’ fine!” Bakugou snarled, his pearly whites peeking from under his lips. “Will you please do something about this?”

Satisfied, you responded, “‘Kay,”

———

Perhaps you should’ve bit your tongue before you spoke to the oh so great Bakugou Katsuki. In your defense, you didn’t know he’d hold it against you. You were joking, obviously. It was obvious. Right?

And so, everytime he walked into the nurse’s office, he’d send you the same nasty glare, practically seething through his teeth as he made eye contact with you. You knew exactly why he did the gesture every time he came in, but how long did this guy hold grudges for? It wasn’t like you publicly humiliated him or anything.

“Why are you always looking at me like that?” you asked him one day as the Recovery Lady escorted him to one of the vacant cots, leg stretched out as you leaned back in your chair.

“Hah? Like what?” he grunted in your direction as he took a seat, an eyebrow raised in curiosity? Irritation? Probably both.

“Mm,” you looked up to the roof as if you were thinking, “Like you like me or something, I mean it’s really flattering but you don’t have to sta—”

“As if. I’d rather watch an elephant take a dump than stare at your face any day,” Bakugou inputted as he lifted his arm to allow Recovery Lady to heal the injury along his bicep.

“Oh really? I didn’t know you were into that kind of stuff, Bakugou,”

You fidgeted with the pen in your hand as you watched his face scrunch up.

“You know what—”

Just as he was about to rise and stand from his spot, Recovery Lady quickly and gently pushed him to sit back down.

“Y/N,” she emphasized your name with a familiar tone, “I think we’re running low on bandages, could you go get some from the storage room?”

Even though her words were anything but hostile, you and Bakugou could tell she was scolding you. You let out a sigh.

“Yeah, I can,”

Getting up from your seat, you set your things down before making your way to the door. Not before stealing one more glance at Bakugou. He was also staring back at you, but this time there was a bit of cockiness in his eyes. Getting the last word never hurt anybody.

You slid the door open, eyes still locked with his, “You know, you’d probably look cute as well if you didn’t look like you were constipated 24/7,”

“The fuck—”

Quickly sticking your tongue out at him, you shut the door before he was able to finish his sentence.

———

The nurse’s office had been particularly quiet today. The slow day in the office gave you more free time to yourself, which allowed you to catch up on a couple past assignments. Only two or three people came in before the lunch bell rang. After packing your bag, you waved off Recovery Lady as you excused yourself to the cafeteria.

And when you returned, it was still quiet. You quickly noticed that it was also void of Recovery Lady, the short woman nowhere to be seen. As you slid the door shut behind you, you heard a hushed groan come from one of the beds. Your head snapped to the source of the noise, quietly stepping closer to the person.

Almost naturally, you recognized the disheveled blonde hair. Bakugou.

But this was different. New. He was quiet for once, and the eyes that almost always were glaring at you were closed shut. Your body relaxed at the unusual sight of him. And maybe if you were crazy, you would’ve thought he was cute.

As you got closer, you noticed the slight crease in his eyebrows, as well as the bandage that was wrapped around his torso.

Perhaps you got too caught up in the moment, though. Too caught up in the way his chest slowly rose with each breath, the way his skin seemed to glow under the sun’s filtered light. So caught up that you didn’t realize those familiar crimson eyes were staring back up at you.

“You a pervert now?” his voice cut through silence, causing you to tense and step back. “The hell are you looking at?”

For a moment, it felt like your voice was caught in your throat. You caught yourself trying to find something to look at. Something other than him.

“Looks like you’re in quite a predicament,” you commented with a breathy laugh, not really knowing what else to say. Stupid joke.

“No, really?” sarcasm was laced in his tone, but you could hear the struggle as he grunted quietly afterwards.

Maybe you’d spare him for the day.

“Recovery Lady hasn’t gotten to you, yet?” you asked as you slowly made your way to your desk, setting down your bag.

“Nah,” he let out a huff as he sat up, “Shit— she wasn’t here when I got here,”

Letting out a hum in response, “Do… Do you want me to help you then?” you asked, even though you already knew the likely answer.

“What the hell do you think—”

“You know, on second thought I have some homework—”

He let out an exasperated sigh before surrendering once again, “Yes. Yes, please. Help me,”

Biting back a small smile, you turned back around to make your way back to the injured man. You pulled up a chair next to the bed, sliding in closer. After gesturing him to lay back down, your hands carefully peeled back the bandages that covered the wound. You’d never get used to the sight of blood.

You could feel the way his body tensed every time your hand neared his injury, though you tried your best not to touch it at all.

“Sorry if it hurts a little,” you said, lifting your hands over the gash, “Just do your best to relax,”

“Whatever,” Bakugou responded as he turned his head away from you.

It happened in a flash. From his peripheral view, he saw your hands glow, and the next thing he knew: he was fine again. Not a scar, scratch, or wound in sight. Like it wasn’t even there.

Though you enjoyed the perplexed look in his eyes, you could feel yourself becoming rather light-headed. You took a deep breath before standing up and going back to your desk to get your water bottle.

As you took a sip of your water, you watched as he sat up in the cot, lifting up his shirt to examine the skin.

“Never seen a quirk before?” you laughed at his amusement.

His face quickly snapped back to his normal grouchy look, “No, just didn’t know you had a quirk at all, you usually just bandage my injuries up. Plus healing quirks are rare,”

“Mm, I get that a lot,” you mused, twisting the cap back onto your water, “It’s just a normal healing quirk though. I’ve been working with Recovery Lady to train it’s capabilities,”

Bakugou grunted in response. Silence filled the room for a moment before he decided to speak up.

“Gonna head back to class,” he stated curtly, swiftly putting his blazer back on before stepping towards the door, “Thanks, I guess,”

With one last glance back at you, he was gone. Leaving you and the rapid thumping of your heart alone in the room once again.

———

“Is anyone sitting here?” a gruff voice came from above.

With the rest of the noise in the cafeteria, you nearly didn’t hear him. Your eyes gazed up from your food toward him, eyebrow shooting up in question.

“Uhm,” you swallowed the food in your mouth before responding, “what does it look like to you?”

You gestured to the empty seats around you before going back to poking at your lunch.

“Tch, just asking,” Bakugou murmured under his breath as he tugged a chair out from under the table and took a seat.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but sneak a couple of glances his way. Just why was he sitting with you? Was this his own silent way of tormenting you?

“So,” you started before clearing your throat, “what do you want?”

You could see him freeze mid-bite, eyes shooting up to you.

“To eat? What else?” he grunted nonchalantly.

Well no shit.

“Oh really? Didn’t know that,” you rolled your eyes, “why not eat with your friends?”

“Don’t wanna,”

Your lips pulled into a thin line before you gave up. You dismissed him as you continued to finish your lunch. After this you’d probably have enough time to take a nap in the nurse’s office. In an attempt to finish your food without starting some random argument with the blonde next to you, you kept the interactions to a minimum.

After you finished, you debated your options. Did you say goodbye or just… leave? Just leaving would be rude, wouldn’t it? Well who cares, you sure don’t–

“Hold on,” he called out, catching your attention.

You watched as he quickly finished the rest of his lunch, gathering his stuff before standing up.

“What–”

“Alright, let’s go,” he said as he walked past you towards the garbage can.

“Uh,” you followed shortly after him with your trash, “go where?”

Stacking his tray with the others, he sent you a glare with a rough, “Where else?”

When you didn’t respond with a word but instead with a confused look, Bakugou sighed and continued.

“The nurse’s office,”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent “Ohh”. You tugged your bag over your shoulder as you walked up next to him.

The walk through the halls was rather silent other than the couple of students that walked past the two of you. But not a word was said between the two of you. At least until he opened his mouth.

“So, what are your plans after graduating?” he asked, hands in his pocket as he continued to walk by you.

You let your eyes scan the exterior through the wide UA windows when you responded, “Hm, I think I’ll find a job in a hospital? I think I wanna work in some field with heroes, but I’m not quite sure yet… And you?”

“Obviously I’m gonna a hero,” Bakugou scoffed with a smirk, “Gonna be the best one, at that,”

“I see,” you let a light laugh slip out at his confidence.

“What’s funny, huh?” he asked, voice suddenly scarily serious.

Your eyes widened, “Nothing, nothing– It’s just we barely have normal conversations like this. I guess,” you quickly added.

Bakugou hummed in response, coming to a quick stop as the two of you reached the nurse’s office’s door.

“Well,” you step closer to the door, “Thank you for walking me here, Bakugou,” you smiled.

“Katsuki,”

“Hm?”

He rolled his eyes, “Just call me Katsuki,” he turned the other way quickly before waving you off, “Later, nerd,”

A laugh escaped you as you watched him walk away, waiting a couple of more moments before walking into the office.

Maybe if you stared for a little longer you would’ve seen the way his ears reddened at your smile.

———

“Oh! Good afternoon Bakugou and Kirishima!” the voice of the elderly woman snapped you awake, causing you to jump in your seat.

You could hear a snicker come from a certain person as you turned to see the two who entered the room.

Your eyes were met with a seemingly beaten up Kirishima and Bakugou, the two having scruffs, scratches and bruises on their skin.

“What were you guys doing this time?” Recovery Lady escorted the two to their own beds, tending to Bakugou’s injuries and gesturing to you to help Kirishima.

“Ah, just training, same as always,” the red head responded with a smile, “Oh, hey Y/N,”

You could feel the ends of your mouth tug upwards at his greeting, “Hey,”

“How’s everything been?”

As you continued your chatter with Kirishima and helped him with his injuries, you didn’t seem to see or feel the daggers of stares that Bakugou sent in your direction.

On the other hand, Bakugou didn’t even know why he felt like this.

What was he pissed about? It’s not like the two of you are friends. Did you consider him a friend? Yet why did it feel so utterly annoying to watch you interact with some other guy?

That was beyond Bakugou.

Maybe he already knew the answer. And maybe he didn’t want to come to terms with what that answer held.

Either way he couldn’t take another second of this.

“Bakugou? Where are you going—”

The sound of Recovery Lady’s frantic voice caught the attention of you and Kirishima. Your eyebrow raised in confusion as the blonde made his way to the door with the little lady following him.

“You’re not fully healed yet,” the old woman claimed.

“It’s fine,”

“Let him,” Kirishima said after Bakugou slammed the door shut. “He’s been a little off lately,”

You wrapped a bandage around Kirishima’s elbow, “Off? How?”

Kirishima’s eyes looked up in thought, “He’s been kinda closed off lately; barely comes to our hangouts,”

“Ooh,” you sighed as you continued helping the guy in front of you.

There was a seedling of worry planted in your stomach, and you barely had any clue why. It’s not like you guys were close. He was just some guy who came to the nurse’s office like every other student. Maybe those late nights staying up were finally catching up to you.

After cleaning up and sending Kirishima off, you were finally left alone. Recovery Lady had left a while ago to fetch some supplies from the storage room. And so that left you and your thoughts alone in the office.

———

A week had gone by.

A week had gone by, and there had been radio silence from Bakugou.

Either training had slowed down or he was completely avoiding you. And either way, it still made you a bit sad. Only a bit.

Days in the nurse’s office were slow and lonely. You never made a real connection with anyone. People came and people left. They come to get healed and leave. No side talk, albeit a few exceptions. Bakugou being one of those.

There were times where you thought you saw him entering the nurse’s office when you were leaving, but the glimpses were so small that you chalked it up to your imagination.

It felt like he was consuming your every thought, so you had no choice but to accept the fact that maybe you had a crush on Bakugou. Maybe.

But so what? That was normal, everyone had a crush on him at one point. Too bad you fell victim along with the rest of them, though.

Admitting to yourself that you liked Bakugou was hard, but having to actually deal with the feelings you had was harder. One, because you’ve never really had a serious crush. And two, he was nowhere to be seen. Having a crush on him made your heart beat so quick that you’d use your quirk on yourself to make sure you weren’t having heart problems.

Soon, one week turned into two.

And it seemed like the office was only getting busier as the third years prepared for their finals. Everyone was in and out as they practiced their hand to hand combat more vigorously and more often.

The first couple of days, it was easy. But towards the end of the week, you began to fatigue. Having to balance your own finals and running around the office having to use your quirk over and over was doing a number on you.

The injuries were becoming worse, the amount was increasing. At times, you were dizzy with how many times you’d have to keep turning around from bed to bed to help someone new.

Then there was a calm. You barely noticed a full week of finals had swung by, leaving the clinic empty and quiet.

“Is it alright if I nap during the passing period?” you turn in your chair to Recovery Lady, who is stocking up the medicine cabinets.

“Of course, you should be fine, if anything I can handle anyone who comes in,” she tells you.

You sigh in relief as you walk to the nearest bed on weak legs, basically melting into it as soon as your body hits the cushion. You knock out on the spot, letting your well-deserved slumber overcome you.

———

Your slumber is interrupted by a slight jolt to the bed frame you’re lying on. You groan as you flip onto your other side. The light escapes through your lashes, creating a blurred light illusion with a silhouette. Your eyes shot open, a silhouette?

You become conscious of yourself as soon as you realize the one before you is none other than Bakugou Katsuki. There’s a stupid grin on his face which makes you want to slap it right off of him. You sneakily nudge at the drool on the side of your mouth and adjust your clothing and appearance.

“Finally awake, sleeping beauty?” he says from the seat beside you, and it feels like forever since you’ve last heard that voice of his.

“Yeah, because of someone,” you grumbled, eyebrows scrunching up. He laughs, laughs, as his eyes focus on you.

“It’s getting late,” is all he says.

You have half a mind to respond, until you remember that he’s been avoiding you. Your eyebrows tighten together impossibly closer, as you flip to face away from him.

“You’re a dick,” you say matter-of-factly. “You’ve been avoiding me, I’m not stupid,”

Your eyes are jittery as they look everywhere. Trying to focus on something in the room to distract yourself from all of the possibilities of what might come out of his mouth.

“Why do you care?”

His words cause you to sit up, facing him once more. “What do you even mean, why? I used to see you everyday, then suddenly you just walked out and I never saw you again,”

Bakugou’s eyes slightly roll at your words, and it kind of hurts.

“I just thought maybe we were…” your words trail off causing Bakugou to stare at you more intently.

“Were what?”

“I don’t know, friends, or some shit,” you bury your head in your hands out of embarrassment.

“Did I say we weren’t?”

“Well, you never said we were,”

“Didn’t think I had to,” he says, “Thought you were smarter than that, doc,”

You smile at the nickname. “You can leave now, I’m awake, I just have to close up the clinic. Why were you here in the first place?”

“Had to make sure you weren’t dead or something,”

Laughing, you get up to fix the bed sheets. The words that fly out of your mouth come out on their own.

“What, do you like me or something?”

“Probably,”

His careless response didn’t register in your mind at first, but when it did, you could feel the heat rush from the back of your neck up to the tips of your ears.

“W-What? You can’t just say that… weirdo,” your eyes flick up at him then back down to the sheets, fluffing up the already neat pillows.

Silence filters through the room, the only noise filling your ears being the noise of cotton and linen being moved around. Along with the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. It felt so loud, that you swear he could probably hear it as well. You didn’t know what to do, was this real life?

Did those words really just come out of his mouth?

His head tilted and you could feel his gaze on you. It was nerve-wracking, and you were just hoping and praying he’d say something that’d clear your mind. A small, “just kidding,” would be nice right about now. The hurt you’d feel from that would be better than the anxiety you felt at this instant.

“Say what?” he mocks, and it causes your eye to twitch.

You decide you’re not playing these games with Katsuki Bakugou today, “Oh nothing, must’ve been the wind,” you flutter your eyes before turning the other direction to fix up another bed that looks like it’d been used.

A hand on your wrist puts a stop to your motions, and it immediately makes your head turn back to meet his eyes.

“B- Katsuki–”

You’d usually be able to come up with something snarky, but right now all your words were caught in your throat. You were actually scared to say the wrong thing for once.

“You were joking right?” you ask him, nervous for what his answer might be.

Bakugou is quick to retort, “Depends, were you?”

You gulp down your anxiety before giving him a response, “N-No,”

“Then? Use that smart little brain of yours, doc,”

“Say it,” you demand, “I’m not playing this little game with you, so say it,”

His ruby eyes roll before connecting gazes with yours once again, “I like you, or something,” he mimics your words from earlier.

You can feel yourself fluster. The dizziness in your head almost made you convince yourself that you were dreaming. If this was a dream, you wanted All Might himself to pop out and punch you across the face.

“Why don’t you say something now, hm?” his grip around your wrist loosens to a more gentle grasp.

His face closens to yours, the distance between the two of you is only breaths-length.

“Since you’re so smart, you tell me,” you sass, “Take a guess, smartass,”

A smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, “You’re such a dick,” he whispers under his breath before closing the distance completely, his lips locking with yours.

Your eyes widen at the pure shock, but you ultimately melt into the kiss. It’s sweet and you can feel the two of you smiling into it.

When the two of you part, you can feel slight embarrassment wash over you. “You’re an ass, you didn’t even let me confess, my high school sweetheart experience is ruined forever,

Bakugou lets out a breathy laugh at your words, “Thought you wanted me to take a guess,”

“And if you were wrong?”

“Hah, as if,”

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha angst #mha angst #bnha fluff #raeworks #bnha bakugo x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha fanfics

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fangdokja · 3 days ago

Text

The love interests were bad. The backup plans are worse.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Word Count. 1,555

You’re not an idiot.

You know by now that the main love interests will not tolerate competition. Not from their noble families, not from the church, not from the gods themselves. Certainly not from random side characters that you, in your infinite apathy, have decided to flirt with as an escape plan.

That’s why your new strategy is simple: pick men who are strong enough to survive.

Because let’s be real, your past attempts? Disastrous. The commoners you tried to seduce? Their corpses were unrecognizable by the time your ‘fiancé’ was done with them. The knights? Cut down in broad daylight, their armor melted to their flesh. The poor priest you smiled at for too long? Declared a heretic and burned at the stake.

You need powerful allies. Men who can actually put up a fight.

So here you are.

Testing your luck with monsters in their own right.

And you think you’ve finally outsmarted the system.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who should be the perfect solution to your ongoing nightmare. A battle-hardened general, the strongest knight in the empire, beloved by the people, and—most importantly—someone the Crown Prince actually respects.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who is your best chance at survival. Because if you’re going to seduce someone, it better be a man so powerful that even the Crown Prince wouldn’t dare to casually execute him out of petty jealousy.

♡ Yandere! War Hero is silent as you place a hand on his chest. It’s purely mechanical. An experiment. A half-hearted attempt at survival.

“Marry me.”

His eye twitches. Just a fraction. The scar running down his jaw pulls slightly when he smiles. The kind of smile that’s seen too many battlefields and decided life isn’t worth taking seriously anymore.

“Bold.” He tilts his head. “Do you make a habit of seducing tired soldiers?”

You stare at him, unblinking. “Do you make a habit of dying for a crown prince who doesn’t even like you?”

♡ Yandere! War Hero hums. “Fair point.”

It should’ve ended there. He should’ve laughed you off. He should’ve chalked it up to a desperate princess-to-be looking for a way out. Instead, he watches you the way he would an enemy formation—calculating, assessing, like he’s already five steps ahead of you.

And then, his gloved fingers reach up, brushing the side of your face. “Alright, then.” His voice is soft, amused, almost teasing. “Try me.”

♡ Yandere! War Hero who does not immediately fall for your charms like a weak-willed idiot. You are almost relieved.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who starts lingering around you. Not in a romantic way, but in the way an apex predator watches an unguarded piece of meat.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who doesn’t touch you, doesn’t flirt, doesn’t even try to talk to you outside of necessary interactions. He only waits.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who does not elaborate.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who lets you keep pretending you have options. For now.

———

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who is supposed to be your wildcard. The one person the Archduke can’t easily eliminate, because the bastard can’t catch him.

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who is infamous. A legend whispered through the criminal underworld, the man who steals everything—gold, secrets, reputations.

♡ Yandere! Master Thief laughs when you proposition him. Loud. Raucous. Like you’ve just told him the world’s funniest joke, “So you’re looking to get stolen, sweetheart?”

“Princess,” he grins, resting his chin in his palm. “You’re adorable.”

“I’m serious.” Your voice is flat. “If I’m marrying anyone, it’s you.”

His smirk sharpens. “And why’s that?”

You gesture vaguely at his whole existence. “Because you’re not a noble psychopath with an overinflated ego and too much power.”

The thief raises a brow. “Not a fan of royalty, huh?”

You stare. He laughs again.

It’s supposed to be a game. You’re supposed to string him along just enough to make the Archduke lose interest. But the thief is too clever for his own good. He plays along a little too easily, indulges you a little too happily—and before you realize it, he’s not just humoring you.

He’s invested.

“You’re an interesting one, princess,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as he pockets yet another one of your possessions—this time, the ring the Archduke gave you. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who pushes you against a wall one night, breath warm against your ear, and murmurs, “Tell me, what’s worse? Being kept in a gilded cage… or waking up one morning to find out you never really had a choice?”

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who disappears before you can ask what the fuck that means.

You don’t have time to process it before the Archduke orders his execution. But the thief is already ahead of him. Already laughing from the rooftops. Already slipping past every locked door. Already gone—except for the letter he leaves on your pillow, written in the same teasing script as always:

You’re a terrible liar, my love. I’ll be back soon.

———

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who was once a ghost, an enigma, the empire’s greatest enemy. A man who has buried himself so deep into the enemy’s ranks that even his true name has been forgotten.

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy where you're certain he is the safest bet yet. He has no reason to be obsessed with you. You have no reason to be on his radar. He’s an enemy of the empire, for crying out loud.

Which is why you don’t flinch when you sit beside him in the darkened corridor, both of you pretending not to exist as the Supreme Mage’s footsteps pass dangerously close.

“You could be executed just for breathing the same air as me,” the spy muses.

You sigh. “I’d rather take my chances with you than with him.”

Yandere! Enemy Spy who immediately recognizes what you’re doing. Who lets you slip into his world of whispered secrets and veiled threats. Who watches you with dark, unreadable eyes as you try to weave him into your escape plan.

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who finally, finally reacts to you after weeks of cold indifference.

The spy is silent. When he looks at you, it’s with unreadable eyes—like he’s looking at something fragile. Something dangerous. Something he doesn’t quite understand.

“This is a mistake,” he finally murmurs.

But it’s already too late.

�� Yandere! Enemy Spy who does not look like a man who has fallen in love. He looks like a man who has figured something out.

The first sign is the way the Supreme Mage starts watching you with something colder than usual. The second is the sudden disappearance of a few imperial informants. The third is the spy’s voice in your ear, soft and dangerous:

“I was going to leave this country without a trace.” His breath is warm against your neck. “Then you went and made yourself my problem.”

You don’t need to turn around to feel the weight of his words.

You were supposed to be his cover. Instead, he’s burning his entire mission just to keep you.

———

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who has served the Demon King for centuries, a ruthless, efficient killer with no equal. He has no desires, no ambitions, no life outside of his work.

“Hey.” You press the knife against his throat, unimpressed. “Be my boyfriend.”

The assassin blinks at you.

The moonlight barely catches on his eyes, but you can see the surprise flicker there.

Then, slow. Amused. “Is this a marriage proposal or an assassination attempt?”

“Both, if you say no.”

He chuckles, low and dark. “What a terrifying woman.”

The Demon King’s wrath has been growing. He’s noticed your little game. He’s noticed your preferences. And now his most trusted assassin has noticed, too.

And yet, the assassin doesn’t kill you. Doesn’t report you. Instead, he laughs. As if he’s entertained by the whole thing.

You should have suspected something when he didn’t immediately gut you. You should have seen it coming when he started letting you win against him.

It’s only when the Demon King himself calls for the assassin’s execution that the final piece clicks into place—when the assassin smirks, kneels before you in front of an entire burning battlefield, and declares, “I was always going to betray him for you.”

The realization is a slow, creeping horror.

Your only options now are a yandere overlord or his yandere executioner.

There is no winning.

Only surviving.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

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little-fae-hero · 23 days ago

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Linked Universe, The Hero of Legend

My headcanons/aus

Art by Atro

Colored version.

Long talk/Ideas under the cut, warning for slightly dark topics. (Note: I may add stuff over time, but nothing will be deleted from the list)

Twilight. Wind. Time. Hyrule. Four. Sky. War. Wild.

Legend (A link to the past, Link’s awakening, oracle ages & seasons, A link between worlds). Other nicknames: The veteran, grumpy pants, Mr. Hero, Hylia’s bastard, Zelda’s Twin.

Hero’s title: Hero of the past, Hero of Koholint, Hero of the Oracles, Hero of Holodrum, Hero of Labrynna, Hero of Lorule.

God that has claim over his soul: Hylia

Part of First’s soul: Caution

History:

The first adventure was a Link to the past, after defeating Ganon it was revealed to Link that he was not only Zelda’s twin but the biological child of Hylia, the golden goddess. Link didn’t want to believe it so he hopped on a ship and left, leading him to koholint. The wind fish picked Legend for his divine blood to help wake him.

Both saving the orcales came from Link not wanting to be home, however after the second one he was convinced bad stuff would happen where he went so he opted to go home and retire.

Later, hyrule was attacked leaving Link alone to rescue it. He also meets a mysterious merchant called Ravio who basically becomes his roommate. It’s revealed Ravio and his sister, Hilda are Link and Zelda counterparts with their mother being a goddess, the Lorule version of Hylia. The humans of that world wanted to get rid of their triforce, basically destroying and corrupting the gods that once protected them.

Link uses the triforce and wishes for their triforce back, saving Lorule. Originally they destroyed their ability to travel between worlds. However, both Link and Ravio wishing for the other plus their demigod blood allows Ravio to travel back to Hyrule. Link tried to avoid doing another big adventure after that, just helping people like you should before he ripped away to LU.

Death: Unknown….

Interest stuff/Headcanons:

Being a demigod is stained on Legend’s body, mostly by his hair which will flow like water when magic is used or high emotions, or faint tattoos that cover his face and body.

All gods have those tattoos when posing as humans, hence why their children have them. However, most are so faint, only about a shade lighter than their skin tone that they are unnoticeable unless in the right light. But they glow when their natural magic is used.

Because of this, Legend refuses to use any of his natural magic, often relying on magical items and jewelry, playing himself off as a lucky adventurer.

He loves jewelry also because of how shiny it is.

The mermaid tail he can get was because of his mother, as one of her domains is water.

Because of the Mermaid tail thing, he can’t really wear pants sense there's a risk of them being destroyed if he hits water.

Legend despises being Hylia’s son and technically a prince, especially since most see male children of the royal family as a curse waiting to happen.

Legend really loved Koholint, he wasn’t a demigod, he didn’t have any weird powers or random quest. It was so bad that if it wasn’t for his mother’s blessing he likely would have drowned.

The only reason Legend woke the Windfish and broke the pocket realm that he came to love was because of Marin.

Koholint was a pocket realm, populated by people that was close enough to the Windfish resting place. Legend doesn’t know this and spent his next couple of adventures looking for Marin, as he physically had some items given to him by her.

Because of Marin he actually uses what little magic leaks out around him and grows the flowers she kept in her hair, always keeping one on him.

You can follow Legend’s path with ease as the flowers mark where he has rested.

He can play any instrument you hand him.

Legend form in dark areas, a pink rabbit, because rabbits are one his mother animals. He despises this of course.

Legend normally is very untrusting after his first two adventures, however something about Ravio made the hero trust him.

Ravio looks exactly like him, same weird faint markings, same face, same body. It’s just the colors that are wrong.

Legend keeps everything from his adventures with the mentality of ‘I rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.’

Because of his mother, Legend picks up on languages and puzzles very easily. It only takes him about a week in a new area before he can speak and read it.

Despite having the Triforce of Courage, Legend’s counterpart Ravio, actually has the Lorule Triforce of Wisdom.

All his adventures have him plagued by nightmares; Legend has to use a bit of magic to get a restful sleep.

He’s good at finding maps and keys, as well as places to eat.

While it’s really hard to poison him, he can still taste the food. So could he eat rotten food, yes, will he? no.

Legend has joint pain, mainly from refusing to use his magic to heal wounds and waiting until he had potion or fairies, the time left its mark.

He has a soft spot for rabbits and seagulls.

Legend is the one who gave Hyrule his first sword. After his death is spirit remained trying to save Hyrule, and ending up looking after the hero as a merchant.

---

Legend is done, let me know you thoughts.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #legend of zelda #linked universe legend #lu legend #linkeduniverse legend #hero of legend #linked universe au #link #loz #lu headcanons #linked universe headcanon #lu au #fae lu au

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hurtspideyparker · 11 months ago

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Thinking about restless spirit Tony Stark who just can't move on to the after life.

The first thing he does once he realizes he's an apparition is check on Pepper and Morgan. True to their word, they're okay. He watches them for a bit but feels this deep unrest pulling him away from the quaint home he yearns for.

There's a deep wrongness within him, some unfinished business that draws him back to New York.

He fears for a moment that it's Peter- but no, it can't be him. He'll be in Massachusetts right now, attending MIT as a freshman. There isn't a doubt in Tony's mind that his little genius is already making his mark.

Still, he follows the pull of his spirit to some dingy Queens' apartment he's never been to before.

It's deep in the night yet the apartment is empty. He looks around a bit, his body phasing through anything he attempts to touch.

It's small and dirty. There's old coffee cups on the desk, alongside a couple GED manuals. Great, the universe thinks he has unfinished business with some broke high school dropout.

He's pondering how he must have screwed up this kid's life; was it the Avengers, Stark Industries? Maybe his old playboy lifestyle is finally coming to bite him in the ass.

His contemplation is cut short by the sound of the window cracking open.

It strikes Tony for a moment that maybe he's stuck on Earth to be a guardian angel, Iron Man living on as some invisible protector against whatever creep is sneaking into people's windows. It doesn't make much sense considering the whole non-corporeal thing, but he still stiffens like he's ready for a fight.

He sees a man- no, a thing? A creature maybe, or an alien. Even in death Tony can't escape being one of Earth's mightiest heroes.

The creature is shrouded in darkness, something slick and bald crawling inside the room with terrifying grace and silence. It shuts the window with a soft kssssh as the seal is formed.

And then it pulls off its mask.

There, with the click of a table lamp, glows the face of Peter Parker.

He's definitely older now; sturdier shoulders, a rugged set of his jaw, hair tamed to something semi-professional. Still present, though, are those gentle brown eyes.

Nothing makes sense right now. Why is his kid here, in this apartment? Surely May wouldn't allow this. How many tenant laws does this place break? Where are his little sidekick friends? And on what planet would Peter Parker ever need a GED?

Tony's getting angry now, watching Peter move around the tiny space. He changes out of his costume and into pajamas. That spider suit isn't Tony's suit, it looks like cheap craft store fabric.

The kid opens a small freezer and pulls out the singular bag of peas that reside in there, pressing it against his ribs while he goes to pop some bread into a toaster.

Tony takes note of every glimpse he gains into Peter's life. Empty cabinets when he reaches for a jar of peanut butter. A fridge housing nothing but condiments and energy drinks when he goes to grab jam. A drawer with two spoons, no forks, and a paring knife which he pulls out and sticks into the strawberry jam jar just as the toast pops.

This is all so wrong.

Tony's outrage is coming to a rolling boil. Peter deserves the world- he was gonna give him the world. He couldn't wait to send Peter to MIT and show him off as his protégé. Tony was gonna fund his projects, tease him about pretty girls, maybe even see him step back from Spider-Man and act like a normal college kid. He wanted to see him flourish and grow up. It was all he could think about when Peter turned to dust between his fingers; he should be goofing off with his friends at a mathletes meeting, or building Legos, not fighting an intergalactic war.

Tony couldn't even conceive how much went wrong to end up here.

Alone. Broke. No school. He didn't even have his Stark suit to protect him. Everything that made him him has been stripped, leaving him in this shallow box with scuffed paint and hollow cabinets.

Tony can feel the violent rage burn deep in his spirit as he thinks about it.

This is why he's here. He can't let his boy live like this, wasting his potential to be some villain's punching bag. Where is everyone? Does no one care enough to stop this? The fury that builds in Tony is dangerous, wondering why a dead man is the only one who cares about the teen's life right now.

Without thinking Tony's hand reaches for the GED textbook, a mocking piece of work that laughs in his face, and throws it at the stupid little kitchenette that's mere feet from the bed.

It sails across the room with surprising speed before it's met with a thunk against Peter's palm, hand reaching out to catch it from the air before it collided with the toaster.

Oh.

Peter sets the book down and immediately picks up his web shooters, eyes darting furiously to every corner of the tiny apartment.

"Who's there?"

Tony steps a little closer but Peter's eyes just look right past him.

"C'mon Pete, c'mon. I'm here, I'm right here."

Tony looks for something else to grab. He swats at a hopefully empty coffee cup on the wooden desk, but his hand just passes right through it.

"Shit," the hope Tony felt waivers slightly and he tries again.

Nothing.

Peter is searching his apartment now, making sure the window is secure and feeling around every crevice, bookshelves, under the bed, in the top corners of the room. Searching for something nefarious, tech maybe.

Tony hits the cup, again and again, frustration building up and up and up till-

The cup flies across the room, Tony and Peter's eyes track its movements as it bounces against the ground and rolls to a stop.

"Shit," Peter breathes out.

Tony walks up to Peter now, standing before him.

"Figure it out. Think kid, you've met aliens, gods, magicians, surely ghosts aren't too far fetched."

Peter closes his eyes. His posture straightens, Tony watches him take a deep breath in as the hairs on his bare arms stand on end.

Peter's eyes blink open, and they're looking directly at Tony.

Tony smirks, "that's it."

Peter turns around and picks the cup off the ground, running to his desk with it and ripping a piece of lined paper out of a notebook and scribbling furiously on it.

Tony walks over as Peter places the cup in the center of the paper.

On the left is the word YES in bold print, NO on the right.

"Okay, okay okay. So, move the cup if, if you wanna talk. Um, is there someone in the room right now?"

Tony reaches for the cup, an intense glare as his fingertips graze it gently. It shifts minutely towards the YES.

"Shit! Shit. Sorry, whew. Okay. Are you friendly?"

Tony moves it to YES again.

"Are you a, um. Person? Like not an alien?"

YES.

"Are you wearing tech, invisibility suit or your molecules are uncalibrated or maybe it's a portal thing like, multiverse shit is happening again, a mirror universe! Oh, maybe a..."

Tony let's a frustrated sign. The kid is too practical, logical. He needs to think like a non-genius.

"... could be. Or, or maybe you're just a ghost-"

Tony perks up and immediately swats the cup, causing it to fly off the desk towards the YES.

"Oh. Oh that's... kinda normal. Or maybe really weird? I mean... I certainly have some ghosts in my past."

Peter picks the cup up and puts it back on the desk.

"Do I know you?"

YES.

"You said you were friendly, and I'm not getting any danger tingles from you. I'm gonna start with people I know are dead, cuz I just really hope you're not a... new ghost. Um. M-May?"

The boy's voice cracks on the word and Tony freezes. May is dead? Tony starts to fear that things are a lot more wrong than he previously thought.

Peter's breath catches and Tony realizes he's waiting, dying for an answer, and quickly pokes the cup towards NO.

Peter's shoulders sag.

"Uncle Ben?"

NO.

"T- Mr. Stark?"

Tony grins, "now we're getting somewhere!"

YES.

Tony is going to have his work cut out for him, but being here with Peter just feels right.

Peter breaks out into a matching smile.

"Wow, okay. I think I'm gonna need more paper," he says as the boy gets to work making a more complex system than YES and NO.

Tony watches on proudly, reminiscing about all the great Peter was and all the great he still is, despite his situation. Whatever this is, they'll figure it out.

Together.

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad and spiderson #spider man #iron man #marvel mcu #post no way home #peter parker angst

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 10 months ago

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Our second DCXDP au has Danny hiding in Gotham with the cores of Dani, Dan and two other clones who survived. They need DNA to be able to reform but it's in a ‘it doesn't have to be now’ kind of way. Not just Danny’s DNA but another to to balance out their genes.

They'll become babies and be raised up. Dani was melting but forced Danny to promise he wouldn't find someone right away he'd take his time to fall in love first. Dan did the same and the twin clones did to.

Danny decides it's a good idea but keeps the cores safe. He ran to Gotham in the DC universe because the GIW were to close to killing him. His parents, Jazz, Sam, Grandma Ida and the Foleys all followed. Grandma Ida is running some gang down in crime alley having a blast with Sam, constantly trying to hook Sam up with Jason who Ida is in a turf war with. Tucker is happily running a tech company that will soon outstrip it's competitors., his parents helping Jazz is terrifying in Arkham as she tears our corruption.

Maddie abd Jack found out about the Leauge of Assassins and went: study time. Danny, knowing its corrupted ecto and also not wanting to deal with assassins lets then have fun. So Ra’s is dealing with liminal mad scientists who keep stealing the Pits and also have uncovered two Damian clones they kidnapped. Their kids now.

But we’re focusing on Danny who is in college and living a peaceful life which is what he wants most of all. The cores of his kids are always on him just in case and he's casually dating. It's great. He can just be Danny the guy who is super into space and plans on being a mechanic for the watch tower.

Then one day Two-Face attacks the cafe he's at (because of a sale it was having where it was two for one on some sort of new treat). Danny has to run for his life. He gets hit and the bag he has the cores in is harmed. One falls out and he freaks, diving for it. He grabs it just as Black Bat swoops in to save him. She flies him up to a roof.

They land and then she moves to grab one of the cores that fell out. Danny gets antsy but it requires skin contact so it should be okay, she's wearing gloves after all. It'll be fine!

On her part, Cass is wondering why her hand feels tingly but there isn't anything malicious in the mans face so she thinks it might just be the orb she caught being weird. She swings off, noting that she has a hole in her glove.

Danny goes home and doesn't think about it until he realizes that the core the hero touched is growing. And it's getting sick without the touch of its other parent.

Cass on the other hand feels strange. Like she's pulled somewhere. She instantly thinks of the guy and alerts the others to him. They hunt him down to find him on a rooftop. He's surprised to see them, holding an Orb that’s glowing.

“I thought it would take longer…” the man says. He shakes his head. “Umm… rip the band-aids off- I'm nottotslly human.”

The Batfam kinda pauses cause he's giving this info up for free. Cass is eyeing him closely. It's just her, Batman and Robin in front of the man. Everyone else is listening in or in the shadows.

“I ran away from my home dimension cause they were hunting me down to kill me because they believed I was non-sentient. You know sad trench- I mean, John Constantine? I think he put in the word we’re friendly,” the man babbles. The orb shines. “Okay, okay. I need to… Black Bat did your glove have a hole in it when you touched this?”

Cass hums but nods. Barbara has Constantine on the line (and no one wants to know the blckmail she has to make him answer) and he's confirming it's a friendly.

“Okay, okay… this is a Core and it's the heart, soul, brain, everything of an ecto-entity like me. And it… it’s my child. But it needed a second set of DNA. It's fine dormant, it doesn't hurt the baby. But it…” the man swallows. “Skin touch.”

Cass knows in a second what he's leading up to. She touched the orb. It needed DNA.

That's her baby in his hands.

Que the chaos.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #Cass and Danny get together #she spends a lot of time with him for the baby’s health #also it's Dan #slow burn time #Bruce is blue screening cause his daughter is having a baby #the bets did not account for Cass who is ace as fuck #Alfred even lost #Fenton parents roll in with their clone sons talking about stealing them #Bruce has a headache

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chatsukimi · 5 months ago

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ʜᴇʏ ʙᴀʙʏ, ʙᴀʙʏ

featuring: gojo satoru x reader. humour + hurt no comfort. synopsis: a collection of you and gojo's voicemails/calls to each other throughout the years. masterlist

july 7th, 2006. 11:23am.

"heyy babyy, you miss me?"

cringing to yourself, you listened to your classmate, gojo satoru's, first voicemail to you. the windows were open in the classroom, summer wind blowing in. the heat was almost as annoying as the blondie's voice. gojo and geto are staying at some estate in okinawa to catch some special grade curse.

oh, and for the record, he was not your boyfriend- whatever pet names he constructed for you were his business only.

you'd tried and failed for him to stop.

"... geto says it's a huge curse we're catching. pfft. i think it's easy peasy. and-"

you heard very distinctly geto's voice hollering at gojo on the other line. pinching your lips together, you resisted a smile. what a menace, leaving his friend in the midst of battle just to send a voicemail to you.

it almost warmed your heart.

"-ok, looks like he's having trouble. aww, suguru, do i have to hang up?" a cacophony of harsh bangs and shouting later, you were furrowing your brows and gojo was back on the line. "ok, he thinks you aren't important enough to voicemail right now-"

"i never said that you stupid-"

"harsh," gojo retorted in a strangled tone right back, the faux offence grating your ears. "he doesn't think i should be calling you right now. inconsiderate." then, in a breathless whisper, he said, "call me later, mk? don't forget to congratulate your boyfriend. i expect a hero's welcome!"

the line cut short.

you texted him straight after: i am not in a relationship with you.

september 1st, 2006. 9:49pm.

"hey baby, i'm out on a mission right now. what's your favourite sweet? they've got mochi, mooncakes, and some pocky. chocolate, strawberry and cream flavoured. tell me and your beloved will bring you his war spoils."

at this point, you'd gotten used to his endearments already.

in your room, all cozied up in your blankets with a hot cup of honey-water in hand, you stared out the window, admiring the nighttime stars. somewhere out there, gojo was fighting.

"you've got to start answering my calls." you could hear him pouting so vividly it chilled you. "wanna hear your voice, baby."

his voice, you realised, was a nice accompaniment to your nighttime routine. he spoke neither too slowly nor too fast. nice and smooth too...

wait- what? you snapped out of it. no way you just complimented gojo satoru.

you dropped the phone on your bed, resolving to ignore him this time.

and the way he haunted your sleep.

may 25th, 2007. 2:00pm.

"baby baby baby, i'm this close to killing all the higher ups," satoru was mumbling against the phone, the usual smoothness of his voice sunken into callousness. you still couldn't believe he was talking to you like you're there with him; he's miles away. "a two week mission. what were they thinking?

"hmph. it's not even a curse i'm suited to." suddenly realising what he insinuated, gojo added, "easy to exorcise, of course, but so troublesome. they should've hired someone with a slower, more detective-heavy technique. they're keeping me away from you... god, are you forgetting me?"

you listened to him while standing outside a classroom at jujutsu high. geto gave you a wry smile: can't get enough of him, mm? you shot him an angry glare.

it didn't prepare you for the sound that slipped out of the phone.

a whisper.

"do you think i should?"

then you were clutching the phone to your ear, fighting the urge to put his voice on speaker to hear properly, clinging onto every word that escaped him.

"d'you think i should kill the higher ups?"

for the first time since being forced to receive gojo satoru's number, you pressed call.

"... hey bab-"

"gojo satoru," you said his name with a meaning, like you knew exactly what it was meant for, to strike him at his very core. "i like you. stop thinking about murder."

november 20th, 2018. 5:24pm.

"babe... talk to me. i'm sorry, didn't mean to get trapped in that box in the first place. it's just part of the job. it's nothing. i'm the strongest. plus, i got out just fine.

"i..." careful and slow, his tone resumed a certain responsibility. it showed that he was trying. "... should've been careful, for you. i know that now.

"just come back and talk to me."

november 20th, 2009. 6:30pm.

"babe babe babe babe baby. please..."

november 28th, 2018. 10:23pm.

"hey baby, i'm thinking of taking a break from the jujutsu world after this. let's go on a nice holiday, just you and me. god that'll be fun... m'thinkin of you on the beach." a cheeky lilt crossed his voice. "hah- just joking... maybe. hold on a little more, mk? year's nearly over. i'll pay for it all, the trip. and, well, you know what we were saying about getting married... yeah. okinawa's a pretty place, isn't it? i overheard nanami talking to his friend bout it just then actually."

december 1st, 2018. 00:58am.

"hi baby. it's late. i know. i've been busy." he paused.

silence flooded the line for about five seconds. it was as though his lungs were convulsing in bursts of breath under the weight of things unsaid. he kept quiet.

then, he was moving around, shifting uncomfortably. he wanted to end the voicemail, didn't know why he started it to begin with.

all you heard before the voicemail ended was:

"stay safe."

december 24, 2018. 4:35am.

"hey baby, i just wanna say... i love you."

you lift your hand up to your mouth, bottling the cry that aches to get out of you. the brutally familiar voice of the white haired sorcerer rasps against your ear. then he breaks out in a dazzlingly clear laughter.

"i... really do. this isn't a joke or anything. i know you know already, but i wanted to tell you." you could guess the ensuing words straight from his mouth. "i don't know if i'll win."

there it is. despite yourself, you smile, treasuring the vulnerability he's shown.

"sorry, i'm not sure why i said that. of course i'll win." you can imagine him puffing his chest out on the other line, confidence filling up his voice once more. "but maybe... in case i don't...

"we had a good run, didn't we?"

you let out a shaky breath.

yeah. we did.

"when i come back, i expect a hero's welcome. ok, babe?"

you're chuckling to yourself as he rambles on and on about kikufuku mochi and a holiday in okinawa, just him and you. no higher ups allowed. no responsibilities. you enjoy the lilt of his voice, terrifying smooth and there despite no real presence.

at last, you put down the phone. a low static drones throughout the apartment.

your photo albums collated on the cupboards, the messy unmade bed, just as you'd left it. two mugs in the kitchen. two pairs of slippers at the doorway.

your thumb drifts away from the replay button. you close your eyes, willing his stupidly annoying voice to haunt you one more time. to taunt you, to tease you, to tell you what you want to hear.

not gojo's very last voice message.

"yuta..."

you couldn't bring yourself to look up. the height, the weight, the figure. shoko had told you to prepare yourself to see the exact replica of your lover before you.

you know that is impossible... nothing could replace satoru.

your resolve is knocked out of you when you see him. only a glimpse... but the same face, same lips and nose and hair and- oh, your breath catches. same eyes. maybe you couldn't... maybe you couldn't tell the difference after all-

"y/n?"

finally you gather the courage to study him properly.

"yuta," you acknowledge.

you know for certain this is not satoru.

for your satoru had a different voice, clear and powerful as the ocean waves. your satoru spoke with purpose, the undeniable confidence he was right, always, and could not be knocked down. your satoru had a penchant he would not let go of calling you baby.

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