#how does she not fold for him daily????

[nico-di-genova]

Blushing, giggling, smirking Rossi has me in a chokehold.

[ienjoywritingfilth]

teach me, general

hi: i wrote this because general acacius is still making me feel hornee things®. I don't know shit about roman gladiator times, about the language, about a n y t h i n g this is just a debauched excuse to think of this man naked and fucking.

You've been promised to another man to save Rome, but you have no desire to become his wife. Marcus Acacius has been assigned to ensure you do not flee before your wedding. Things happen.

trope: enemies to lovers

pedro character: Marcus Acacius x female reader (you)

warnings: innocence kink, age gap (not specified, but he an old peepaw just how we like him) , Marcus tries to be good but we like him bad, AU as fuck because i have no idea what happens in the movie, virgin bullshit, eating out, allusions (are what whores do for money or candy) to other sex, , i think that's everything.

RATED 18+

wanna see my other stuff?

"I will not play nursemaid to a spoiled child."

Marcus sweeps the scroll from the desk angrily, standing and stalking to the window, his cape fluttering behind him. 

Commander Cassius, an older man and one of The emperor's most trusted advisors stands in the corner, his gnarled hands folded in front of him. 

"She has not been a child for quite some time, General Acacius," the commander replies, a smirk crossing his lined mouth. 

Marcus only makes a scoffing noise at that, refusing to turn around and give the older man the respect he thinks he deserves. 

"She is desperate." the commander adds, walking in Marcus direction. "She is to be wed tomorrow."

"The city talks of nothing else." 

Marcus is sick to death with talk of your marriage to a neighbouring royal family. The marriage means bountiful coin and harvest for Rome. It's a step towards unification and the future. 

But for the last several months it's all he's heard of between battles. The dress, the food, the entertainment. It's all so grating to hear about when he throws himself into daily combats. 

"She has made her feelings on the matter quite clear," the commander says with a gentle exhalation. "There is concern she will flee in the night."

"Why?"

"She has no desire to marry. No interest in continuing the bloodline."

There are rumors of course. That the Prince you've been promised to is dim, that he drinks too much, that he has an eye only for men. It's no wonder you don't look forward to such a union.

"She says she will study at the universities instead," Cassius chuckles. "A silly fantasy. She is a woman after all." 

Marcus is quiet with contemplation. He'd just returned from battle days ago. He was still weary, his patience thin. The poor reception home from his family adds to his bitter mood. 

"But she is wise beyond her years," the commander says. "She has managed escape more than once, as you well know. It was you yourself who retrieved her the night of her eighteenth birthday in the olive grove was it not?" 

Marcus rolls his eyes recalling how you screamed and punched his armour as he dragged you down from the branches, throwing you over his shoulder. You screamed until your voice was hoarse as he carried you home that evening, shouting obscenities in his ear the entire way. 

All because you'd wanted a chance to see the Gladiators. You'd begged your parents and they'd been quite clear that it was no place for you. You'd snuck out anyway, caught by Marcus before you could even get to the Coliseum. 

When he does not reply the older commander stepped forward, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. 

"You have your orders from the Emperor."

Marcus shrugs off the older man's touch, his dark eyes sharp. 

"And why must it be me?'

'"Because, General Acacius, you are the one man that cannot be fooled by her."

The slave is at the door when Marcus knocks at your bedroom. Their face is covered; their stance cowered when they open the door widely. 

"General Acacius," the quiet voice observes eyes on the ground. Marcus is grim-faced, entering into the room.

"I have been instructed by the Emperor to keep watch tonight."

"I see," the woman nods, her face still tilted respectfully to the floor. "I was just about to fetch her dinner."

Marcus steps further into the lavish room with its bright, white walls and smooth marble floors. 

"Where is she?" 

"She is in her bed," the slave replies bowing even more lowly. 

Marcus' dark eyes move to the bed, seeing the sleeping figure's chest rise and fall through the gauzy curtains that hang on all sides. 

"The sun is not yet set."

"She is overcome. Her wishes for the marriage to be called off have been ignored."

Marcus nods, watching as the slave goes to move past him. Her feet slap the floor slowly, everything in her body suggesting an unhurried dedication to her position. 

She brushes Marcus' sleeve and he sniffs the air, a familiar scent wafting over him. Roses. 

Without warning his large hand darts out, grabbing the slave by the arm and dragging her back into the room before she can leave. The door is slammed shut, her exit blocked. 

"General-"

Marcus says nothing; he simply rips the veil from the woman's face, shaking his head in frustration as your uncovered visage stares unblinking back at him. 

He watches as you sneer, your irritation clear. 

"How did you know?" 

"Rosewater," he replies in a husky murmur. "No slave could afford to bathe in such luxury." 

You pull your elbow from his grasp, furious at being caught. You call out to the girl in your bed. 

"Amilius you are released." 

A taller woman a haggard face and wild hair rolls out of the bed. She is clearly a slave but wears an embroidered toga meant for royalty. 

"You will still be paid," you assure her as she approaches you both, her eyes on the floor. You retrieve the pouch of clattering coin from your locked cabinet, placing its heavy bundle into her shocked hands. 

"It is too much."

"Not at all," you insist. "I thank you for trying. You may keep the clothing as well." 

"You are most welcome." 

The smile the two of you exchange is sweet and Marcus is furious at the sight of it. How dare you think up this scheme and how dare this slave go along with it? 

"You are bold," he says, stepping towards her. "To defy the word of your Emperor and not expect retaliation." 

"She did it only to defend me," you break in, stepping between Marcus and the girl. "To give me a chance at escape."

"Treason," Marcus snarls, his eyes still on the girl behind you. "You will be put on trial."

Amilius shrinks back, her eyes wide. The thought of punishment like this never occurred to her. She simply follows what you tell her, as she always has. 

"I will say I drugged her," you shoot back. "I will be put on trial. I will be sentenced to death. I choose that. Anything is better than a marriage to that self important caenum!"

Your chest heaves with untapped anger. Marcus knows that this is true. You are just stubborn enough to choose death but it would mean only calamity for Rome. 

"Leave us."

Amilius nods and shuffles from the room, closing the door behind her. You watch as Marcus locks it before coming back to you. 

"So they sent the General," you say with a laugh as you remove the slave’s cloak you were wearing. You drop it into a chair before looking at him. "How fearsome a creature I must be if the strongest General in the army is sent to watch me."

"Fearsome I think not. An annoyance to be sure." 

You roll your eyes, going to the table that holds the wine and other spirits. Several chalices are there, empty and ready to be filled. 

"Some wine, General?"

Marcus shakes his head. He would never drink when on such a job. He doesn't trust you. You shrug, pouring two glasses anyway. 

Marcus is surveying your room, quietly taking in all the personal touches. He notices you position your writing desk to the east, to enjoy the midday sun. Your bed is soft and layered with furs to keep away the chill. 

You walk back over to him, holding out the larger chalice to your guest.

"Here." 

You watch as Marcus takes both chalices in hand, swapping the one you poured for him with yours. You go to deny him this but he's already taken a deep pull from his glass, smiling at you when you make no move to do the same.  

"None for you?"

You try to keep your voice even, not wishing to show your hand. 

"I find my thirst rather quenched." 

"Is that so? Or is it that I caught onto your pathetic ploy to drug my wine?" Marcus smirks, taking a deep sip.

You say nothing; you bite the inside of your cheek instead. Marcus digs the blade in a little deeper. 

 "The vial made a rather obvious noise when it hit the rim of the chalice." 

You bite so harshly you draw blood. 

Its hours later and the fire has been cracking for the better part of the evening since the sun went down. 

Marcus sits on an ornate chair before the fire, his body stoic and broad and strangely intimidating despite his continued silence. He has the chair facing you, not letting you out of his sight for even a moment. 

You sit at your writing desk, hunched over parchment as you write hurriedly. The scratch of the stylus is the only sound in the bedroom. 

Marcus exhales slowly, irritated at needing to be here at all. Knowing his luck, he'll also be forced to be at the royal wedding as well. 

You stand and take a stretch, cracking your back as you arch your spine. The flowing fabric drifts over your body pooling at your feet. Marcus takes note of your head tilted back, eyes closed. He doesn't remember your profile being this striking. He muses it is one that should be etched onto roman coins, remembered by those to come forever after. 

You walk over to him with a tired look in your eyes. 

"It is late," you tell Marcus. 

Marcus doesn't reply. He simply sits there, waiting for you to tire of whatever game you've begun. 

"I thank you for the fire, General." 

"You are most welcome."

He isn't expecting you to walk behind him pretending to stoke the fire. And he can only blame his lack of focus on his extreme lack of sleep. He'd managed none during battle and at home it seemed he was more than a little restless. 

He feels your hand slide the dagger from his hip, realizing too late. You go streaming across the room, your eyes wild when he races after you. 

"Impudice fur!"

"I have stolen nothing," you shoot back at the insult. 

The two of you circle what another in the room like your own miniaturized version of the Gladiator pit. 

"You have stolen years off my life," Marcus growls. "You have turned my hair silver."

You look at the dark hair threaded with grey in parts. 

"You have done that yourself, General, thanks to your love of bloodshed and the battlefield."

Marcus rolls his eyes. "Only a stulte would think my strategy anything other than necessary."

"If you insist," you say rolling your eyes, clearly disbelieving. 

"Return the weapon."

Marcus is strong, he is quick and you will have to submit to him. There is little else to do, aside from throwing yourself out the window behind you. The thought of that horrible childish man being your husband makes you seriously consider it.

You can't help it, thoughts of being his wife, of being tethered to such a man disgusts you. You would more readily marry Marcus Acacius if you had to. At least the man had honour and dignity.

And then all at once the answer is clear to you. You drop the knife onto the floor, hearing it clatter as you spin and throw yourself towards the large open window. 

Your feet slap against the stone floor as you fling yourself towards the open air. The realization that before you die you will know what it is to fly. 

Marcus is on you almost immediately, grabbing you around the middle before you can tumble to outside. He yanks you back, tackling your unwilling body to the ground. He pins your hands to the ground. You attempt to wrench from his grip, squirming under him. 

"Stop these foolish games."

"It is no game," you shout. "It is my life! I will choose if I live or die!" 

All at once Marcus is very aware that you are not the child he once saw in the halls or at events. The child and then teenager he found so grating with her questions that he took to ignoring her. 

"Still yourself."

You wriggle in his grip like a worm. As you do your hips graze his cock and he's shocked to find a stab of arousal hit him. 

It's as if for the first time he sees that you've become a woman. A beautiful one at that, all soft curves and kissable mouth. He stares at the damp plump of your lips and realizes that he's growing hard under his toga. 

He throws himself off of you, hunched over until he gets to the window. You're rubbing your wrists, completely unaware of what happened as you stand, glaring at him. 

"It is what is fated," Marcus barks at you. 

"How easy for you to say!" You scoff disgusted. "Tomorrow I will be the wife of a childish boor who would rather chase cock than spend a moment with me. Rome will be safe for a time, yes, but at the cost of my entire being. And you, General Acacius, will go on living your life free of restraint." 

"I come with my own shackles, believe me."

"And what is that? Too much coin for wine? Too many prostrating followers who blindly obey you?"

"A wife who married me for my title. Two stepsons with the combined intelligence of a pomegranate seed.” Marcus shakes his head. "You act as if everyone may rule their destiny but true freedom is granted to only the few." 

He can see the fight leave your body. 

But he knows you’re still upset. He moves over to your desk, needing a break from your smoldering glare. The parchment you were working on earlier sits there, writing unfinished. Marcus takes a scroll in hand, squinting down at it. 

"What are these?" 

You rush over, your face red as you rip the scroll from his hands. 

"Nothing!"

Seeing your weakness Marcus holds it up out of reach, a childish grin on his face as you leap up, trying to grasp them. But it's no use, he's taller, stronger and you fall back, defeated. 

“Tell me and I will return it to you.”

"They are poems," you mutter exasperatedly, feeling shy.

"Your own?"

"Yes."

"I wonder what about," Marcus says and he reaches into the desk to find several more scrolls. "What dress to wear to the market? How best to complain about having everything?" 

Marcus takes them in hand, a sneer evident in his face as you reach for them again.

“You promised!”

“As you promised your fidelity to the prince.”

“My father promised him. I promised him nothing.”

Marcus lets out a small huff before turning his back to you. You can see him unrolling the scroll, beginning to read.  You watch him, feeling both furious and anxious. These are some of your innermost thoughts that he’s reading.

There is a long bout of silence. You watch his broad shoulders sag, his hand flipping the page over and continuing to read. He does this through several sheets until you can't stand it anymore. 

"Give it here!"

You pause with your hand on his elbow. He's solemn, but that's not what shocks you. It's the tears that he wipes quickly away with his free hand. 

"Are you---"

"No."

You step backwards, your hands falling to your sides. You have known the general since you were a child of thirteen. Over ten years you have been in his company and only now have you seen him lose his composure. 

As a child you were convinced he didn't feel true emotions. He was always this tall, impressively stoic figure. You never spoke to him outside of your father's company. You only heard everyone talk of his skills on the battlefield, of his keen mind. The only time he truly emoted in front of you was when he ripped you from the warm embrace of the olive tree, forcing you back to your boring life. Hissing at you that you were ungrateful for all you'd been given. 

"This is very beautiful," he admits in a voice dragged over sand. "The way you describe death is very," he searches for the word. "Vivid." 

"Thank you," you reply dumbstruck. 

You've never received praise for you writing outside your friends. So to receive it in the form of your current enemy is more than a little shocking. Marcus has no allegiance to you, in fact, his response is so genuine because you know he's fighting against his inner desire to chastise or condemn. 

Seeing this hulk of a man with tears still damp along his waterline has you softening everywhere. He's looking at the pages and then back at you. 

"Have you any others?"

"Yes," you nod.

"All on the same theme?"

"A variety."

"May I see?" 

You walk to your writing table, pulling out the parchment you hide from prying eyes and pass them into his outstretched hands. You wait with your lower lip lodged under your top teeth, your fingers twisting together. You don't know why but you crave to know what he's thinking. 

You don't need to wait very long. 

"It is clear there are limitations to your skills."

He has the familiar arrogant expression on his face as he says this. You bristle sharply at his words and he notices. 

"You write of death, you write of jealousy, you write of fear,"' he says. "All of these you compose with obvious talent, with a voice I feel here." 

He taps the centre of his chest before he holds up some of the pages you laboured on. 

"But these? The poems of love, of desire? They feel false."

You take a moment to digest what he's saying. He's treating you like an equal, as if you're someone who can take the criticism. It propels you to explain instead of running away in embarrassment. 

"People want poetry to transcend them, to deliver them somewhere beautiful. How else to do that other than with poems on such topics?"

He holds up the pages. 

"It clearly does not come naturally."

"It is a challenge at times."

"You write of loss with such acuity," Marcus explains. "Why then do you describe the action between a man and woman so stiffly?"

"I have experience with loss."

Marcus stares at you, surprised.

As the daughter of the emperor he'd just assumed you'd have your fair share of romances. You're a beautiful woman and if you were anyone else but the Emperor's daughter he might have pursued you himself. 

You feel his gaze trained on you and you walk to the fire. The flames reflect in your eyes as Marcus continues to watch you. You swallow your embarrassment and look over your shoulder at him. 

"Will you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"What I am to expect on my wedding night." 

Marcus lets the scroll fall from his hand onto the stone floor. At the sound of its contact he shakes himself, retrieving them and placing them on your desk. 

"You have not known the touch of a man?"

With cheeks stained in embarrassment you shake your head. 

"I have not. The life of the privileged daughter isn't one that allows for entanglements," you sigh. "I fear for what awaits me."

Marcus thinks of your future husband, a man who doesn't want any part of you. You'll wither on the vine, ripened and juicy and waiting. 

What a waste. 

"I cannot," Marcus says. "I am simply here to ensure you do not flee."

"Perhaps I will not flee if I know what is to occur."

Marcus sighs and strides towards you. You watch as he pulls over one of the chairs you had at the window, placing it across from the chair you sit in before the fire. 

"You will be wed; there will be the wedding celebration with most of Rome at your unity. Then he will take you to his chamber." 

You lick your suddenly dry lips. 

"I am no fool. I know what the day’s events will be, General. I want to know what happens in consummation."

Marcus inhales deeply. He can feel himself growing stiff. You are a delectable thing, forbidden in so many ways. He itches to touch your skin and taste your cunt. 

"He will, he will press his mouth to yours."  

"Show me."

"No."

"Please," you beg, coming to stand closer to him. "Once I know what is to come I will feel more able to conquer this fear I feel."

Marcus debates this as he stares at you. And it's his cock that does the thinking for him when he steps closer to you. 

Marcus sighs heavily through his aquiline nose. You hold your breath as he grips the back of your neck, like you're a bothersome kitten. Holding you there he lowers his face to yours, grazing your lips with his. 

You coo gently at the sensation, your nipples hardening as he wraps his arms around you. He's so broad, so muscular, you feel so vulnerable and yet safe in his arms. 

You cling to him, body immediately wrapping around his, pressing so tightly to him that you feel everything. Your hips roll against his and you shudder pleasantly when you feel his breathing hitch. 

"More," you beg. Marcus groans, his large hands coming to cup and knead your breasts as his tongue invades your mouth. 

He's murdered men, he's plotted army overtaking, and he’s attacked the unarmed, but touching and kissing the virgin daughter of the emperor? This is the most corrupt thing he's ever done. 

And you're so desperate for him, no hesitation in any part of you. You just allow him to plunder your body, his mouth moving down your jaw to your neck and then the barely concealed valley of your breasts. 

His hands move around your body, pressing and caressing and skimming until they land at your backside. You kiss him fervently, feeling his palms tug you against his hard cock.

You whimper, eyes rolling back as the two of you grind against one another. It feels so sinfully good to do such a thing. 

"That is enough," Marcus says stiffly, pulling back from you when you make that sound. He looks at your swollen lips and dazed expression. 

"Please, show me everything," you whisper. "Teach me." 

Marcus has a fairly good idea that your wedding night is going to be brief and awful. The least he could do is give you some pleasure before you're thrust into a lifetime of timid touches and non-existent intimacy. 

Just once, a sinful voice whispers. Fuck her just once to see how it feels. 

"I cannot." 

You feel insecurity wind its way around your ribs before tugging brutally. Its clear Marcus does not find you handsome enough to tempt him or he still sees you as a child. In humiliation you turn from him and take a seat before the fire once more. Your shoulder sag as you gaze down at your clasped fingers on your lap. 

You hear Marcus sigh from the window before you sense his approach. He comes to sit in the chair opposite you, his gaze so serious. 

"It would be wrong."

"But I desire it."

"It would be dishonourable." 

"Please," you beg him again, finally raising your head. "My entire life you have been there for me, coming to my aid. And now I turn to you for the final time, General. Please help me." 

"I cannot do it."

"But why?" You demand now, knowing that your patience is wearing thin. "Give me one true reason." 

He lifts his muscular frame out of the chair, crossing until he gets to you. You gaze up the length of him, not flinching when he drops to his knees between your parted thighs. 

Marcus tilts forward until his body nears yours, his hands on either side of your chair arms. His body is so warm, so broad. You fight the urge to touch his chest as his swollen mouth brushes your ear. 

"Because if I were to start, it would take the entirety of the Emperor's army to stop." 

You blink slowly, your eyes trailing over his face and body. Your entire body is fizzy, like lightning is coursing through your veins instead of blood. 

"I would pull you apart," Marcus hums against your skin. "I would draw noises from you that you cannot begin to imagine. I would have you shaking and begging for more and I would continue."

You can't breathe. 

“I would fill you with my seed, marking your womb as mine. I would do it over and over until I was spent, only to do it all again at dawn." 

Marcus groans softly, his dark eyes scanning down your toga to the swell of your breasts. 

"And even then I would not be able to cease," Marcus says as he squeezes your breasts through your toga. "I would train your mouth, your cunt, every hole you possess in the ways of pleasure. All would be mine, nothing left for another." 

You stare at him, unblinking.

"And so you see why I must refrain," he finishes huskily. "Why I cannot give you what you believe you desire."

When did he go from the scowling general to a real man with such a filthy mouth? You’re quivering all over, desperate for him to be even closer. Your eyes drop to his full mouth, aching to feel it again.

"What if that is what I crave? What if I have no desire for you to cease?"

Your fingers go to his, pulling one hand under your toga, leading him up between your silken thighs. Marcus allows it, eyes on you but his hand inching towards your centre. 

"You do not know what you ask."

"Show me, Marcus," you whisper, your mouth nearing his. "Make me yours if only for tonight."

Your lips slot between his, kissing with uncertainty as your hands go to the buttons at his shoulder. His fingers are slowly teasing your entrance as he stares at you. 

You arch as his thumb begins to circle your clit, his long fingers starting to nudge your liquid heat. 

Marcus knows that every inch of you he touches is another year in the pit if he's discovered. You are the most forbidden fruit in Rome. Yet he continues to slide two fingers to the knuckle into your core, curling them as you cry out for him. 

At the sharp sound of your cry he withdraws his fingers, glossy with slick. He stands, needing to clear his head. He feels your confused gaze on his back. 

"I cannot defile you before your wedding," he explains. "Your chastity is of the utmost importance." 

"The slaves tell me of ways to circumvent such an issue," you tell him as the cape he wears falls to the ground. 

He watches you untie his toga, urging it from his body until he stands there in nothing but his gladiator sandals. 

He is truly a sight to behold. Golden, muscled, captivating in the same way blood along knuckles shine in sunlight. You take your time to walk around him, admiring the tight taut of his ass, the breadth of his wide shoulders littered with scars and the curls that tease the bottom of his neck. 

You save his front for last, taking your time to watch the trail of hair move from his navel downward. 

His cock is hard, thick and heavy. It weeps at the tip, already so eager. It hangs there; too large for you to imagine entering you as you reach out and touch it. He hisses at the first point of contact. 

He watches as you carefully touch him, marvelling at the iron of his cock until the silk of his skin. You trace the vein on the underside, trailing it from the base to just below the mushroom head. 

You slide down to your knees, fascinated. Amilius has spoken to you of men when you’ve asked.  She has been married and has a child. You know a bit of what men like but only in theory. You lift your eyes up to see Marcus staring down at you with a heated gaze. Your hands go to his thighs, gently resting there. 

You grin before leaning forward and placing the sweetest peck to the tip of his manhood.  

Marcus growls softly in the back of his throat. His eyes close briefly before opening, looking darker than before. You watch as he takes his cock in hand, gripping it by the base and pulling it towards you. 

You part your lips, ready to take him on your tongue and are surprised when instead he drags the tip along your bottom lip, leaving a trail off pre-cum there. You lick the remnants, curious at the salty taste. He watches you with increasing interest. 

"Irrumabo," Marcus murmurs, his cock tapping against the full of your bottom lip. "Yes?"

You nod, opening your jaw. Marcus smiles, thumb tracing the curve of your mouth. 

"Not tonight," Marcus says as he shakes his head, bringing you to a gentle stand. "Tonight is your pleasure." 

He tugs the gown from your body, letting the silk pool on the ground beside you. You shiver under his gaze, noticing his length which twitches. 

Marcus feels his breath leave him as your nude body is bared to him. You look so innocent there, waiting for him, gazing nervously at him through your lashes. 

"Goddess," Marcus hisses, his hands coming to cup your breasts. "I am a condemned man for even looking at you."

He lowers his head eagerly, nipping and licking your nipples as you cling to him, urging him to take more as you arch your spine. 

"Marcus, please more," you moan. 

Unceremoniously he pushes you back to sit in your chair, your legs splayed in surprise. He drops to his knees, moving your legs to hook over his wide shoulders. You allow this, your body limp and eager to be posed by his strong arms and hands.

He looks up to see you panting, staring down the length of your body at his face between your legs. Without breaking eye contact Marcus dips forward and licks a stripe up the centre of your sex. 

Your eyes immediately shut as pleasure ripples through you. His wide hands grip your creamy thighs, holding them in place as he continues to probe his tongue deeper into your channel. 

Your hands grope the air around you fruitlessly. You don't know what to do with them. Marcus notices and he takes your wrists between his grips, forcing them to card through his hair. 

He goes back to sucking your clit and you feel your hips buck. Your fingers dig into his skull, holding the curls and you understand why he placed them there. 

"Harder," he tells you sharply as he peppers your inner thighs with sweet kisses. You tug harder on his curls and he groans softly in approval. 

You make a shuddering noise of pleasure and it dies in your throat as he pulls back from you. His eyes are stormy as he looks up the length of you to give you a disapproving shake of his head. 

"Silence, cherub. We do not need the guards coming to investigate your shrieks." 

You nod breathlessly, clapping a hand over your mouth as he continues. The sounds are muffled against your palm as he brings his hands to slide under your ass, pulling your sex deeper into his mouth as he consumes you, groaning into your cunt when you cum. 

"Marcus!" 

"Quiet," he reminds you between licks. 

As you sit there in the chair he brings you to a second steady orgasm, revelling in the muffled yips you make when you begin to writhe against his face, coating him in your essence. When your shuddering ends Marcus slowly withdraws his tongue from your cunt, gazing up at you with a dazed look.

"My husband will do this to me?" You pant; your body shiny with perspiration. "It was so pleasant. I felt the sun within my body." 

Marcus remains on his knees, his mouth glistening with your arousal. He gives you a pitying look, knowing full well that your husband to be likely won't see you past your wedding night. 

The thought enrages him as he sits there, cheek against your thigh as you give him that hopeful expression.

"No," Marcus finally admits. "I believe his actions will be more perfunctory." 

You frown.

"How? Show me."

"You ask too much."

"Yes, I do," you admit with no hesitation or embarrassment. 

Marcus gives you a calculating look before standing. You sigh, waiting for him to leave when he crouches down beside your chair, sliding his hands behind your back and under your knees and hoists you into his arms. 

"I will give you what you desire," he tells you gently. "I can deny you nothing." 

"You have denied me much over the years," you remind him with mirth. "When I tried to see the Gladiators fight and you pulled me from that olive tree?"

"And I never heard the end of it. Imagine denying this request? You'd have me hanged."

You give a shy giggle before lacing your fingers behind his neck, your mouth finding his with ease as he carries you to the bed. 

The two of you lay in the twisted blankets of the bed, bodies gleaming with sweat. Marcus did exactly as he promised. For hours he took you apart, forcing you to come on his fingers, his mouth, his cock. You took him at every turn, eyes shut and your mouth covered by his palm or his lips. 

And now that the dreamy haze bleeds into reality you find yourself frowning. Marcus, with his arms holding your body to his notices immediately. 

"What troubles you?" 

“Tomorrow I will be another man's wife," you say with tears in your eyes. "Rome will be saved for a time but at what cost? I'll never feel pleasure like this again. I'll never have you in my bed again."

Marcus feels a pull behind his ribs, and he leans forward to kiss you gently. You respond, your tears damp on his cheeks.

"Your lessons will continue," Marcus promises, kissing behind your ear. "I will make sure of it." 

"My husband--"

"Will be thankful when you are with child," Marcus tells you in a hush, his hand curving over your stomach. "My child."

Your eyes are luminous. 

"After your wedding night he will not come to your chambers," he promises. "But I will. I will drink the nectar between your legs and I will spill myself down your throat. I will have you everywhere and when we pass in public although there are no words to be uttered you will know I think only of you. That I am yours and you are mine."

He wipes away your tears with his large thumbs before pulling your mouth to his. You fall asleep in his arms, the sensation of his body there to protect you through the night. 

Marcus stirs the next morning to the sound of birds outside the window; it's cheerful and bright as the sun that hangs high in the sky. 

It feels right that your wedding day should be beautiful when you yourself are so exquisite. 

Marcus feels his cock hardening immediately at memories of last night. Of the sounds you made and the way you felt. He looks forward to a life with you, even if it must be in secret. You are something special, something like freedom.

He cracks open his eye to take in your sleeping face, but your side of the bed is empty. A scroll is there beside him in the empty bed instead, his name written. With a panic in his heart he unrolls it, finding a lock of your hair tied with a ribbon inside. He takes it, pressing his lips against it as he reads the words from your hand. 

Carissamus General. I know that as you read this you will think me a villain, but I promise that my words were true and my body forever yours. Please understand why I could not possibly allow another to touch me. Freedom is for those who take it. I leave you a piece of me in exchange for the piece of you I will carry in my heart. I owe you everything and perhaps in the next life we will have the future you dream of. Until then I wish you the same joy and pleasure you gave me. With all my love, and all that I am. 

Marcus reads the beautiful words over and over. They spin around his skull as he dresses, pulling on his toga and cloak. But instead of anger in his expression he smiles serenely. 

He's always enjoys a good chase. 

[stvolanis]

Stepbro! Rafe prods his finger at your entrance, playing with your folds as he gives you your daily pussy inspection! At first, you were confused cause it’s your most private area n you were too embarrassed to show him. “Jus’ wanna make sure she’s okay, baby. Gotta know when she’s ready for me to break her in.” He’d say, knuckles deep in you. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but it felt really good so you let him!

Stepbro! Rafe who chases away any thoughts of you ever having a boyfriend. Rafes big n’ scary, n’ he doesn’t understand how you think some little boys could make you feel the way he does! So when he finds out you got asked to go on a date with some random kook and said yes, obviously he takes that as a sign of you begging to be punished by him! “Stupid girl. Thought I fuckin’ told you, you’re not supposed to have any boyfriends. yr’too little.” He’d mock as his hand came down to spank your ass, watching as you whimpered and tried to get away from the pain he was inflicting upon you.

Stepbro! Rafe finally has you bent over the edge of the kitchen sink, after long nights of fingering you enough to get you to loosen up for him. His tip, bulbous and leaking intimidatingly, drug through your folds as your slick helped as lube. When he finally decided to take you, his mind couldn’t fathom how someone could still be so damn tight after all the work he put in trying to make this comfortable for you. He kissed your shoulder and neck, lightly biting to take your mind off of the stinging sensation between your thighs.

Stepbro! Rafe who wasted no time in pounding at your sloppy cunt. His balls, hung and full of his seed, slapped at your clit deliciously with each harsh thrust. Your mouth hung in a desperate plea of mercy as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the wide kitchen, along with a mix of moans. “Little pussy feels so good ‘round my cock. She’s takin’ me like a fuckin’ champ, yeah?” He muttered in your ear. “That’s my girl. Look so pretty like this f’me.” He praised when you squirted all over him after his fingers found your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Good thing you guys were home alone, right? Too bad Ward installed cameras throughout the house—including the kitchen.

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!

TAG LIST: @elvisalltheway101 @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @luxuriouslokistan-3 @foxevxid @sapriao @xiyingly @jazminsjaz @likeits2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @floredaqueen @hockeyrat @rafeswhorejjsslut @peterpan-neverfails @sunflowerskenz @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy

[purifiedclitoris69]

silent comfort

Wanda maximoff x supersoldier!reader

warnings: violence/dark thoughts?

summary: you and wanda have a silent love for each other. you’re generally gentle and kind always watching over, but when someone over steps and offends the person you love for most, another you peaks thru.

You are a supersoldier unlike any other, quiet and reserved, always choosing to observe rather than command attention. After your time in hydra and the reputation you built, attention was the last thing you wanted. You joined the Avengers a few months before Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, blending into the background with an unassuming grace. Despite your strength and skill, there's a softness to you that surprises your teammates—your silence is not cold or distant, but warm and thoughtful, like a silent protector.

From the moment you met the twins, you felt a deep connection with them, particularly Wanda. You could sense the weight she carried—the uncertainty, the grief, the fear, the guilt—and you were drawn to her. While others might have approached her with caution or even wariness, you offered something different: quiet kindness. Even despite her side with Ultron, you still showed her brother and her a kindness that they had almost forgot.

You have a way of making Wanda feel at ease, often with just a look or a simple gesture. She feels safe around you in a way she rarely does with others. You never push her to talk, but you're always there when she needs to, whether it's a late-night conversation or a shared moment of silence. You listen without judgment, always knowing exactly what she needs, whether it's words of encouragement or just the quiet comfort of your presence.

With Pietro, you're more playful, indulging his teasing with a rare smile, bailing him out of trouble with his pranks, playing along with them, but with Wanda, you're especially gentle, treating her with a kind of care that makes her feel understood. She trusts you implicitly, and you protect her fiercely, but you never treat her like she's fragile. You see her strength, her potential, and you nurture it with a steady, unwavering support.

You show Wanda your love in the quietest, most thoughtful ways. It’s in the extra cup of tea you make for her in the mornings, placing it beside her with a soft smile before she even has the chance to ask. You remember exactly how she likes it—just a little sweet, with a touch of milk—and she always notices the way you prepare it with care, as if it’s something special.

When you’re out on a mission or even just taking a quick trip to the store, you find yourself picking up little things for her. A book that you know she’d love because it touches on themes she’s interested in, or maybe just something with a beautiful cover that made you think of her. You’ll leave it on her bed or in her favorite chair without saying anything, and when she finds it later, there’s always a gentle warmth in her eyes because she knows it came from you.

Sometimes, it’s as simple as leaving a cozy blanket folded neatly on the couch when you notice her sitting there late at night, lost in thought. Or it’s the way you quietly slip a note under her door, just a few words reminding her she’s not alone, that you’re there for her.

You never make a big deal out of these gestures, never call attention to them. For you, it’s enough to see the small, peaceful smile on her face when she realizes that you’ve been thinking of her. You’ve woven these acts of love into your daily routine, and Wanda, in her own quiet way, cherishes each one. They are little reminders that she matters to you—that even when the world feels overwhelming, there’s someone looking out for her in the gentlest of ways.

She repaid you just the same, leaving you meals in the fridge labeled with your name and a "do not eat," leaving you cookies on your nightstand, comforting you when your thoughts became too dark, reading aloud to you when you can't sleep.

The feelings between you and Wanda develop slowly, quietly, like the way dawn creeps in without fanfare. It starts with the little things—the shared glances that linger just a second too long, the way your hand brushes hers when you pass her something, both of you too startled to say anything but too unwilling to pull away too quickly. There's a growing awareness between you, an unspoken connection that neither of you quite knows how to address.

You feel it every time you’re together, especially in those moments of silence where words aren’t necessary. Sitting next to each other on the couch, you can feel the warmth of her shoulder just inches from yours, both of you keenly aware of the space between, yet too shy to close it. Sometimes, you catch her looking at you when she thinks you’re not paying attention, and there’s a softness in her eyes, like she’s trying to work up the courage to say something—but she never does.

Wanda feels the same, though she doesn’t say it. She leaves a book she knows you’ll love on your bedside table, writes you a note about how a certain passage reminded her of you, and in those moments, she’s saying so much without ever saying the words. But like you, she’s afraid—afraid that if she speaks it aloud, it’ll shatter something between you.

So, you continue like this, your feelings blooming quietly in the spaces between the acts of care you show each other. Neither of you dares to say it first, but it’s there, ever-present, in every cup of tea you make her, in every baked treat she provides, in every soft smile shared when the world isn’t watching. There’s a beautiful tension in the not-knowing, a longing that’s almost enough—almost—but not quite. Still, you wait, both too scared and too shy to take that step, unsure of when or how, but certain that the feelings are real.

After a particularly hard mission with the team, emotions seemingly boil over.

As the Quinjet hummed through the sky, the tension was palpable. Everyone was on edge after the mission—too many close calls, too much going wrong. You were sitting across from Wanda and Pietro, trying to keep your own thoughts in check, but the weight of the day was bearing down on you. You could see Wanda, lost in thought, her fingers anxiously twisting the fabric of her jacket, and Pietro, sitting close to her, watching the team in silence, particularly his sister with concern.

Then Tony's voice broke through, sharp and careless, "Well, can't say it's surprising things went south," he said sarcastically somewhat joking, "You let people with a track record of working for HYDRA, what do you expect, just surprised our minds stayed intact."

His gaze landed briefly on Wanda, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips as if it was some joke. But it wasn’t funny—not to her, not to Pietro, not to Bucky and definitely not to you.

You didn’t even think. One second, you were sitting there, the next, you were on your feet, grabbing Tony by the collar and slamming him against the wall of the Quinjet with a force that shocked everyone. “Watch yourself,” you growled, your voice low and threatening, the darkness in you rising to the surface. “You have no right to talk about us like that,” you spat through gritted teeth, “about her,” your grip tightened.

The moment you slammed Tony against the wall, the room seemed to freeze in place. Tony, wide-eyed and caught off guard, raised his hands slightly, not out of fear but sheer surprise at the swiftness of your reaction. His cocky façade shattered in an instant, replaced with a stunned silence as he realized the seriousness of the situation.

The rest of the team reacted in a chaotic mix of emotions. Steve stood up immediately, his hands half-raised as if ready to intervene, his instincts as a leader kicking in. His eyes narrowed, muscles tensed as he took a cautious step forward, though not fully committing to stopping you just yet. He knew you well enough to understand there was more to this than a sudden outburst.

Natasha remained seated, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She leaned back slightly, arms crossed over her chest, her green eyes glinting with amusement. Tony had this coming, and she wasn’t about to step in just yet. She’d seen Tony push buttons before, and to her, this was just another day dealing with his sharp tongue.

Bucky sat stiffly at the edge of his chair, his metal arm twitching almost imperceptibly. His jaw clenched, eyes glued to the scene in front of him. He wasn’t exactly ready to leap to Tony’s defense, but he knew the damage you could do if you were truly pushed. Sam, sitting in the corner, slowly stood up, hands on his hips. He wasn’t rushing to intervene but kept a watchful eye on the situation. He had a deep sense of loyalty to the team, but even he could see Tony had crossed a line.

The air felt thick with a palpable tension. Every second that ticked by stretched out into what felt like minutes, the entire team holding their breath, waiting to see what you would do next.

Wanda, sat up holding her breath. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of care and concern. She had never seen you snap like this before, but a part of her couldn’t help but feel a rush of gratitude that you had stepped in so fiercely on her behalf. Still, the tension in the air left her feeling conflicted—she didn’t want you to lose control, especially not for her.

They had heard stories of your past, of the ruthless, brainwashed assassin Hydra had turned you into, but they’d never seen such an aggressive side of you. Until now.

Tony, eyes wide, raised his hands slightly in surrender. "easy soldier,” he muttered, clearly surprised by the force of your reaction. But your grip on his collar remained firm.

“Apologize,” you demanded, your voice cold. You weren’t letting him off that easy.

Before Tony could respond, Pietro was suddenly at your side. He didn’t touch you, but his presence was a reminder that this wasn’t about to escalate further—not for Wanda’s sake. “That's enough,” Pietro said sharply, his voice tight. You felt him stop just shy of pulling you off Tony, his hand hovering near your arm, unsure if he needed to intervene or not. He wasn’t angry at you, but his protective instincts for his sister were obvious. “She doesn’t need this.”

You met Pietro’s eyes, the unspoken understanding passing between you. He wasn’t accusing you—he just didn’t want things to spiral out of control. With a deep breath, you glanced back at Tony, who was still pinned against the wall.

“I said apologize,” you repeated, your voice hard.

Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer, your pulse still racing with the leftover adrenaline, before you finally let go. Tony brushed off his shirt, glancing toward Wanda. “Sorry, Wanda,” he added, his tone more sincere now. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She gave a small nod, acknowledging the apology, but her silence spoke volumes. Tony’s words had hurt her.

You stepped back, returning to a seat further back in the jet away from the team. you noticed Pietro’s eyes still on you. He gave you a small nod—part thanks, part approval. He hadn’t expected you to stand up for them like that, but now he knew just how far you’d go for his sister.

As the Quinjet landed and the tension from the mission—and your confrontation with Tony—finally began to ease, the team started gathering their gear to head out. The air was still a little thick with unspoken tension, but leave it to Nat to break the silence with her sharp humor.

As she passed by, throwing her bag over her shoulder, she gave you a sly, sideways glance. "Well, i didn’t think a teddy bear like you would be such a protective girlfriend," she quipped, a smirk tugging at her lips.

The comment caught you off guard, and you shot her a look, part amused and part flustered. Wanda’s eyes widened a little, her cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly embarrassed but unable to hide a small smile.

“whatever,” you replied, trying to play it cool, though a hint of blush crept onto your face.

Nat just shrugged, walking ahead with that signature swagger. "Hey, I'm not complaining. Just saying, if anyone's got a problem with Wanda, they’ll have to go through you first. And judging by what just happened, I’d pay to see that." She winked, giving a knowing glance to the rest of the team, who had started to loosen up, the mood lifting as everyone filed off the jet.

Even Tony, still rubbing his neck, muttered something about getting off easy, while Steve shook his head, his usual disapproving-but-amused expression in place.

As Wanda and Pietro made their way back through the quiet halls of the compound, the tension from the mission had mostly faded, replaced by the familiar comfort of being with her brother. Pietro, always the one to fill the silence with banter, was unusually quiet at first, glancing at his sister with a knowing look. Wanda walked beside him, her thoughts scattered, mostly focused on you—the way you had defended her so fiercely, the intensity in your eyes as you stood up to Tony, and then how you had softened again, like a storm that passed as quickly as it came.

So…” Pietro finally broke the silence, his tone teasing, a grin spreading across his face. “That was something.”

Wanda shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

He laughed, throwing his arm around her shoulders in that casual way only brothers could get away with. “Oh, come on, Wanda. Don’t act like you don’t know.” He nudged her playfully, his grin widening. “You and our little supersoldier over there. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

Wanda felt her cheeks flush at the mention of you. “Pietro, it’s not—”

“It’s not what?” he interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Not like you’ve been sneaking glances at them ever since we got here? Not like they just threw Tony Stark against a wall for you?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Please, Wanda, you don’t have to be a mind reader to see what’s going on.”

Wanda huffed, trying to keep her composure, but Pietro was relentless.

“You need to make a move,” he continued, grinning as he waved his hand as if it was obvious. “I mean, how much more do you need? They’ve been giving you little gifts, making you tea, standing up to Tony— they’re genuinely kind Wanda, but after that I don’t think theyd hesitate to burn down the world for you; you deserve someone like that.”

Wanda bit her lip, turning her face away to hide the smile tugging at her lips. She couldn’t deny it—she did feel something for you. But it wasn’t just the little things, the quiet moments you shared. It was the way you made her feel safe, how you always seemed to be there when she needed someone, without her even having to ask.

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly, her voice soft. “What if I ruin things? What if they don’t feel the same?”

Pietro stopped walking, turning to face her with a look of exaggerated disbelief. “Wanda,” he said, his voice teasing but affectionate, “they literally went all Hydra-mode on Tony for you today. If that’s not ‘feeling the same,’ then I don’t know what is.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto her face. Pietro always knew how to get her out of her own head, even if his teasing was relentless.

“You’re overthinking it,” Pietro added, more seriously this time. “You like them, they like you. Just go find them, talk to them. Trust me, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Wanda hesitated, glancing toward the window where she could see the dark sky outside. She didn’t want to admit how much she cared about you, how much your presence in her life had already changed things. But Pietro was right—if she didn’t make a move, she might regret it.

With a sigh, she gave her brother a small shove. “Fine. But if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Pietro grinned, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Blame away, but it won’t. You’ll thank me later.”

The night sky was clear, stars scattered like fragments of a forgotten dream as you sat on the roof of the compound, legs drawn up, arms resting loosely on your knees. The breeze was cool, carrying the scent of the trees nearby, but it didn’t do much to ease the weight in your chest.

You had come up here to think—about the mission, about the way you lost control on the Quinjet, and about Wanda. You could still feel the echo of that dark part of you, the part you’ve spent years trying to bury, the part that Hydra had forged into a weapon. For so long, you’d worked to move past it, to be better than what they made you. But when Tony had said those words, it was like flipping a switch you didn’t even know was still there. And now, despite your best intentions, the guilt lingered.

You exhaled slowly, staring up at the stars, trying to ground yourself in the quiet, the peace of the night. But your thoughts kept circling back to Wanda—how overwhelming your feelings for her had become, how they consumed you in ways you didn’t expect. Loving her wasn’t something you planned for; it just happened. But with that love came the fear, the fear of slipping into that darkness again if it meant protecting her.

The sound of soft footsteps behind you made you tense, but only for a moment, because you knew who it was before she even said anything.

Wanda sat down beside you, close enough that her arm brushed against yours. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, though—it never was. She just sat with you, offering her presence in that quiet, gentle way she always did.

“Thank you,” she finally said, her voice soft. You turned to look at her, confusion crossing your face. She smiled faintly, her eyes warm even in the dim light. “For what you did today. For… everything you’ve done for me, really.”

You blinked, unsure what to say. You’d done it without thinking, out of instinct, but you didn’t want to admit how ashamed you felt for slipping back into that dark, aggressive part of yourself. “I didn’t mean to… be like that,” you murmured, looking down at your hands. “I’ve tried so hard to leave that side of me behind.”

Wanda reached over, gently resting her hand on top of yours. “You were defending me,” she said softly. “You’ve always defended me, protected me, even when I didn’t ask. And today… I needed it. I needed to know someone has my back like that.”

Her words hung in the air, and in that moment, you let your walls drop. The connection you felt was electric, and it terrified you. Taking a deep breath, you moved a little closer, feeling the warmth radiating from her.

"Yeah i’m pretty sure defending you is one of the easiest things I’ve ever done" you mutter look down to your lap, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them

Her touch was soft, grounding. You looked up at her, and the way she was looking at you—full of trust, gratitude, and something deeper—made your heart race. For a moment, everything else fell away. All the guilt, the fear, the darkness—it faded, leaving only her and the quiet between you.

he silence between you both felt heavy, but not with tension—more like an unspoken understanding passing through the air. When you looked back up at her, you caught the way her soft gaze was on you, full of emotion that you’d only dared to hope she felt too.

The world around you seemed to blur as you focused entirely on Wanda, on the warmth of her hand, the closeness of her body, and the quiet intensity of her eyes. There was something so vulnerable in the way she looked at you, something so open that it made your heart stutter.

“I mean it,” you added, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’d defend you forever if you’d let me.”

A small, tender smile curved on Wanda’s lips. Her thumb brushed across the back of your hand in a slow, gentle motion, sending a shiver up your spine. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your cool, but the weight of your feelings for her, the depth of it all, was almost overwhelming.

Without even realizing it, you leaned in slightly, your breath catching in your throat. Wanda mirrored your movement, her face just inches away from yours now, her lips parted ever so slightly as she hesitated. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you couldn’t look away from her, the pull between you both undeniable.

You could feel the warmth of her breath, the closeness of her body. Time seemed to slow down as the space between you disappeared, and then—gently, tentatively—her lips brushed against yours. It was soft, almost uncertain, but the moment your lips touched, a flood of warmth spread through your entire body, like a gentle wave of emotion that you had been holding back for so long.

You kissed her back just as softly, afraid to break the moment, but also craving more. The kiss was innocent, filled with a kind of tenderness that made your heart swell. It was shy, slow, and so full of meaning that it made your chest ache. Wanda’s lips lingered on yours for a moment longer, neither of you rushing, just savoring the closeness, the intimacy of the moment.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested lightly against hers, both of you breathing a little heavier. Your heart was racing, and you could feel Wanda’s was too. For a second, neither of you spoke, letting the quiet settle between you.

Then, in a small voice, you whispered, “Would you… would you maybe want to go on a date? Like… a picnic or something?”

Wanda pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and happiness, a soft smile blooming on her lips again. “Are you asking me on a date?” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper, the hint of a blush rising on her cheeks.

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. “Yeah… if you’d like that.”

She smiled fully now, her eyes sparkling as she leaned in to kiss you again, just a brief press of her lips to yours. “I’d love that,” she whispered back, her voice soft and filled with affection.

[juniperstale]

kiss me hard before you go — gojo, itadori, nobara, megumi

⋆ in which you have to leave for a long mission without them [ . . . gn!reader, sfw, lowercase intended, fluff, ig some really light angst, the context really does not match the dialogue, daily clicks . . . ]

SATORU GOJO is anything but reasonable when it comes to you. what do the higher ups mean when they say you're the only one capable to complete the job? he's the strongest. it doesn't matter what the enemy wields, he will always win. so why can't he go with you? or instead of you (the answer is that it's a compromised mission and he's a major blabber mouth).

so here he is, at the airport with you, seconds before you turn around and leave him for what he feels is forever. he whines and pleads for you to fake an illness, or an injury, or anything that gets you out of this mission. and yet, you only give him a kiss, whispering comforting affirmations before telling him you'd call everyday and taking a step away from him. well, attempting. satoru's hand grabbed you almost immediately, pulling you into the last embrace the two of you would share for a while, his breath a little shaky. he was genuinely worried for you. he was always worried for you.

"come back in one piece?" "why? the more pieces of me, the merrier, no?" "you're not funny." "you're a hater."

YUJI ITADORI finds you oh so cool. you're his brave, strong partner who can take on difficult missions without breaking a sweat. he brags to anyone, whether they listen or not, about you. it doesn't help that you're absolutely gorgeous too; your hair, eyes, nose, but your strength!? the way you're so capable!? the way you can protect him!? you made him feel safe, something he didn't know he craved until he got it, from you.

unfortunately, it was harder when he actually had to let you go. you slipped out of his grasp in the middle of the night, effectively waking him up. he was confused for a second before you walked in from the bathroom, your pajamas folded in you hands as you had your airport outfit on.

"why're you up, sweetie?" you asked, walking over to his side of the bed before sitting down on the edge of it. "you're leaving now?" he asks, rubbing his eyes. "mhm, ijichi is getting the car ready, you should go back to sleep though, you have class in a few hours." you respond, placing a kiss on his forehead before standing up when you hear ijichi honk from outside, signaling he was ready to go. yuji grabs your wrist before you can go far, forcing you back close to him, pulling you into a quick hug, then a kiss, then pulling away and looking at you with a crazy determined look on his face.

"you got this!" "i know!" "good!" "good!" "be safe, i love you!" "i will and i know!" "good!" "good!"

NOBARA KUGISAKI doesn't care. i mean, she's proud of you, she really is but it doesn't bother her when you have to leave for a long period of time. i mean, why would she worry. you never come back injured that badly, sometime your not even injured at all. plus, you always come back. but what if you do get injured this time? badly? or worse, what if you don't come back.

now there's an angry nobara in your room, interrogating you as you pack some final things into your carry on. when were you set to come back? what was the mission about? what type of enemies would you be fighting? what grade?

she's cut off when you sit next to her, placing a kiss on her lip which she doesn't hesitate to return, pulling you in closer. your forced to pull away for her when the alarm on your phone goes off, reminding you that it was time for you to leave.

"i'll be fine nobara, i promise." "i'll kill you if you're not!"

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO acts like he could care less, but inside he's panicking. a lot. he doesn't know how to confront you about his fears of losing you. his fear that you would get injured. his fear that you forget about him. his fear that you would leave, like everyone else did.

so, he coped with it the only way he knew how. he, cautiously, packed you bags for you. the exact amount of clothes you need, pair of shoes for each type of weather, you camera that you took everywhere and bandages. lots and lots of bandages.

deep down, he knows its insane. he knows you'll be fine, you always are and always will be.

when you walk into your room and notice his antics, you sit down beside him, rubbing his back gently. though you don't often show it, you know the feeling well. your boyfriend is a maniac when it comes to proving his self worth and that often leaves him injured in shoko's office, leaving you to wonder about the state he could possibly be in. you don't dare speak when he relaxes into your touch, only going as far as to scoot closer to him so you could pamper his face with adoring kisses until he speaks.

"you're going to be fine" "of course" "you're going to come back to me" "of course" "your going to use the bandages i packed for you even on the smallest injuries like a paper cut" "megumi are you casting a spell on me?"

8.15.24 ⋆ ...so i've been gone for a while and this is my first time writing for jjk... so what? i will blame it on the fact that i have a job though and start school again in a few weeks 💔anyways this isn't really proofread, i rushed to get it out and it was supposed to have other characters like nanami, maki, inumaki and yuta in it so lmk if you want a part 2 hehe

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (III)

On your travels with the two demon companions, you stumble upon a fortified village plagued by monster attacks. It would be quite unlucky if the grand finale happened just as you step foot inside, right? Worry not, you're saved by a third mysterious yokai that you immediately recognize. The harem grows!

Content: female reader, monsters, violence

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]

“Alright, how’s this?”

You do a clumsy pirouette before the two yokai men.

“That’s...are you sure?” Kiritsubo eyes you, mildly confused. “It’s usually what men wear.”

Of course, you already know. After weeks of walking through feudal Japan, you’ve reached the conclusion that modern clothing isn’t the most practical choice. Not to mention the strange looks you always get from other people upon your arrival in any village. You needed something to blend in, and the typical fashion for your gender might not be compatible with your training. You’d rather not swing a sword while covered in multiple layers of kimono.

Thus, you opted for the hakama pants typically worn by men. With your hair tied up and in this baggy attire, one could think you’re a young samurai. If they squint enough. You chuckle at the thought.

“She’ll wear whatever allows her to not be a burden.” Murasaki concludes with crossed arms.

One way to put it, you tell yourself.

“If you’re done discussing fashion, we can leave.” The dark-haired man continues with indifference, standing up and adjusting the swords in the folds of his sash.

Both you and Kiritsubo hurry and follow behind obediently.

“Where are we going this time?” You ask sheepishly.

“South-west. An old residence of his, although we will have to pass through a fortified settlement first. We should reach it before sunset.”

It’s hard to imagine you’re the supposed savior in this equation. Murasaki has been leading you by the hand each step, carefully considering every detail on the map, and extensively planning your travels every evening. All this on top of your daily training. You’ve now mastered the basics with the katana he’s provided you, as well as some common prayers for exorcising small-class demons.

You glance at the daisho pair of swords under his belt. A long, thin blade, and a shorter backup version, both in elaborate matching scabbards meant to showcase the status and wealth of the samurai wearing them. In this case, meant to express his rank as the advisor and right hand of the famed onmyōji. You certainly don’t doubt Nakamaro’s decision to rely on Murasaki.

In comparison, Kiritsubo carries a nagamaki at his waist. A comically long blade in your opinion, used mostly to bring down horses during battle. Any regular sword would’ve been too small for him. Despite his imposing appearance, you’ve learned rather quickly just how different Kiritsubo is from the other yokai. He’s quite clumsy in combat, often anxious about making mistakes, terribly apologetic, and overall has a heart too kind for his own good. If there’s hesitation coming from his side, Murasaki immediately follows with his ruthless, ending blows. As a matter of fact, even you’ve had to do the occasional killing to spare the man of such choices.

The silver-haired demon notices your eyes on him and smiles, excited. He reminds you of a large dog. A horned, fanged dog of monstrous strength, nonetheless the innocence is there. And he does make a great travel companion.

“How much longer?” You grunt, looking up.

“Are you tired? I can carry you for the rest of the way-” Kiritsubo instantly offers but is interrupted by Murasaki’s barked orders.

“She can walk. Don’t spoil her.” He glares at you, then nods ahead. “We’re almost there, so quit your whining.”

True to his word, you can finally discern the outline of a wall at the top of the hill. A few more steps, and you can even spot two guards standing beside the great gate.

“Stop there!”

The soldiers lift their spears threateningly. Before you can react, Murasaki steps in front of you with a hand placed on his sword.

“We’re just passing through.” He states factually.

“We’re no longer allowing visitors.” One of the guards exclaims. “The village has been raided by monsters recently and our Lord has closed all gates until the matter is solved.”

“That means no filthy demons go in.” The other adds in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on the horns of your companions. His mouth curls in disgust.

You can tell Murasaki is angered by the disrespectful approach. He is not one to let such insults slide and you’d rather avoid him claiming unnecessary victims; therefore, you push past his arm and plant yourself ahead with a polite greeting bow.

“These yokai are with me. I vouch for their good behavior, so please consider letting us through. Perhaps we can even help you with these monsters.”

“You? How would you…”

The man stops abruptly, switching between you and the yokai. Eventually he inspects your scabbard, and he gasps, confusion twisting his features.

“Could it be? No…He’d be dead by now.”

“What are you talking about?” His partner inquires impatiently.

“That’s the family seal belonging to Abe no Nakamaro.” He explains, pointing to the golden finish at the end of your katana handle. “I’ve heard about him from my grandparents. But it’s been decades!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re saying this kid is a legendary onmyōji?”

“Who else would show up with demons as servants? Everything matches. Perhaps his powers have finally reached immortality”, he concludes solemnly.

The men continue their argument, and you clear your throat, embarrassed. What the hell? You can’t possibly look that manly. Sure, you’ve been skipping the makeup, and the clothes aren’t exactly curve shaping, but to be mistaken for an old man is like a slap to the face.

You’re about to deny their claims, but Murasaki swiftly pinches the back of your neck, and you wince. He lowers himself to your ear and whispers:

“This will be to our advantage. Just go along with it.” “Fine!” You mumble angrily. Then you turn back to the guards.

“V-very well, I see I haven’t been forgotten.” You admit, theatrically. “Lead me to your Lord and we shall discuss the details of your monster attack.”

Thus, you sip on your tea, kneeling at the luxurious table and awaiting the arrival of the feudal Lord. The servants are exchanging words, gossiping fervently next to the wall. “I wonder if he can cure my daughter!” one woman mumbles, visibly emotional.

“Do you think we can finally be saved? He’ll truly exorcise the beasts tormenting our village?” another whispers.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare at Murasaki. You had no idea he’d given you Nakamaro’s old sword. Now you’re stuck pretending to be a pompous, long-dead asshat.

“What if they catch us?” You hiss between your teeth. “I don’t know shit about onmyōdō.”

“Then I’ll just kill them all. Simple as that.” The crimson-eyed man retorts, unconcerned. “Have a little fun, won’t you?”

“W-we’ll help you come up with answers, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Kiritsubo chimes in, trying to reassure you.

You sigh in frustration and look out the window. The sun must’ve set a long time ago and has since been replaced by a pitch-black sky. What’s keeping the Lord? Surely, he can’t be having important business meetings late at night.

Almost as if your thoughts were read, the door slides open and a servant wobbles in. The rest of the household workers are silent, expecting the entrance of their master, but no one is following behind. You observe the bizarre limp of the woman. Suddenly, she collapses to the floor, revealing her bloodied back torn by deep wounds, caused by some sort of claw. Her body is stiff.

Panic settles in right away, and the servants topple over each other to get away from the fresh cadaver. You struggle to get up among the terrified crowd, but thankfully Murasaki grabs your wrist and pulls you out into a quieter hallway.

“What the hell?” is all you manage to say.

“Rotten.” Kiritsubo furrows his brows, sniffing the air. “Someone in here must be possessed. Could be more of them.”

Murasaki surveys the surroundings and gestures towards his partner.

“We have to see if the Lord is still alive. You go that way. I’ll take the front. Kill everyone suspicious.”

“What about me?” You demand, holding your breath.

“Get out and wait for us. You know how to draw a protection circle, don’t you? I won’t take long.” The dark-haired yokai answers before vanishing.

Judging by the screams and wails coming from all directions, you suspect Kiritsubo is right about multiple attackers. You sprint across the hall, looking for an opening. The self-defense lessons didn’t cover cursed humans with demonic powers. You’ll stay out of this one.

What an absolute mess. You have encountered some demons in your weeks spent here, but nothing to this degree. When the guards mentioned a monster attack, you imagined a ghost with a grudge, or some small fry yokai scaring the workers at night, not a mass curse that ends in a massacre. Of course, it had to happen the moment you arrived at the main house.

You find a room with a door leading to the inner courtyard. Seems isolated enough and it should provide a bit of shelter while you wait for the pair to finish the business. As you rush past the dead bodies, you notice a woman hiding behind a screen divider.

“Ah! It’s you!” she yells, aware of your presence.

From the shadow of her secret spot emerges the small frame of a child. The woman pushes the little human towards you, blocking your path.

“Don’t worry, he’ll protect us.” she gives her child another nudge. “Go on, hold onto him. You’ll be safe.”

What? No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re getting out.

“Ma’am, sorry to break it to you under such circumstances, but I’m not-”

You’re interrupted by a loud growl. One of the possessed creatures must’ve followed your scent, and it’s now sliding into the room on all fours with the bones of the limbs twisting and creaking in unnatural pounces. You purse your lips in a frightened grimace. One advantage of the wide hakama pants – useful to know – is that no one can see your knees shaking cowardly.

Theoretically, you could use the brat as bait and run for your life. It’d make a decent obstacle. Unfortunately for your life span, you’ve been gifted with an idiotic sense of duty instead of survival instincts.

“Keep your distance. If I can’t kill it, get out and don’t look back” you advise, positioning yourself in the learned stance and sliding the sword out of its sheath.

Damn it! Then again, it should be like fighting a zombie, right? Given the pathetic way it drags itself around, it can’t be too difficult to hit. Aim for the head, you repeat in your mind. Your fingers grip around the handle.

The ghoulish beast lowers itself, like a spring about to recoil, and leaps across the room with an ease you did not anticipate. Despite your iron hold, it slaps the blade out of your hands with enormous force. The impact breaks your skin, and you wince. There’s no time to weep, within seconds it could go for your vitals next. While Murasaki hasn’t gotten around to teaching you much hand-to-hand combat, you’ve read your fair share of shounen manga. The first idea that comes to mind is to put the beast in a sumo lock. You bend your knees smoothly and wrap your arms around the monster, feeling for something to hold onto. You grit your teeth and attempt to lift the creature.

A thundering laugh resonates within the walls, and you jolt, startled.

“I never thought I’d see the mighty Abe no Nakamaro wrestling with ankle biters like this. What are you going to do, throw it out of the ring?”

The voice is deep, loud, and unfamiliar. You can’t afford to look back to see the source, but it’s not hard to figure out the possibilities. So far, you’ve only been called by that cursed name by the yokai accomplices. Although now is not the best time to seek revenge.

“Shut up, I panicked”, you snap in frustration. “If you can’t help, keep that trap closed!”

The sudden burst of anger seems to have triggered something within your body, a power you don’t recognize. You watch as your arms effortlessly pick up the monster and swing it across the room, its body demolishing the opposing wall and causing thick clouds of dust to rise and spread everywhere.

The impact must’ve alerted the nearby ghouls, as you can now hear the agitated trample and screeching rapidly approaching. You’re not confident you can pull the same lucky move a second time.

You turn to search for your sword, but it’s already being handed to you by the mysterious yokai who’s been observing your little fight. You have to step aside and tilt your head all the way back in order to fully view the gigantic frame of the man.

Ah, you recognize the features immediately. The same kind of fear you felt when you stumbled upon that old shrine statue is now tugging at your chest.

“You’re Suma, right?”

A proud, wide grin forms on his face, revealing a pair of glistening fangs. His expression is unexpectedly soft and friendly.

“We’re halfway through our introductions then, eh?” You pick up the sword and his fingers stretch out for a handshake. “What is your given name? I’m guessing you don’t willingly go by that…title.”

“I very much prefer (Y/N), yes.” You marvel at the significant difference in size, placing your small hand in his. “Was that your power I just used?”

“Mhhm. You sure surprised me there! It’s not something I did intentionally, but I s’ppose we just resonate that well, huh?”

He laughs again, completely unbothered by the impending danger.

“Alright, you can leave the rest to me. Take the lady outside, it will get a little messy.”

And with that, he casually walks towards the gathering of ghouls. You guide the family to the courtyard and wait for the battle to end.

“Do you think she’ll be fine by herself?” Kiritsubo is resting against the fence, keeping you under a watchful gaze.

“Let the humans sort it out among themselves.” Murasaki responds, somewhat bored.

The morning after the attack, you offered to deal with the survivors: ask them how everything started, if they’d noticed anything suspicious days prior to the event, and if the route to Nakamaro’s old residence was still open. The yokai men had found the feudal Lord in the jaws of a possessed creature and he quickly succumbed to his wounds. Consequently, only the remaining servants could provide them with clues.

A village being targeted like this is highly unusual, and Murasaki can’t shake the feeling it could be related to their master.

“Oh, where are you heading after this?” The silver-haired yokai glances at Suma, sitting lazily next to them.

“Where? After you just told me the whole story? I’m way too invested in this modern reincarnation that just popped out of nowhere, so I’m tagging along!” He announces with a chuckle.

Murasaki frowns.

“We don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be like that.” The giant man pouts dramatically. “Are you upset I saved (Y/N) before you?”

“W-we were on our way!” Kiritsubo retorts, visibly bothered.

“It’s a done deal!” Suma rests his hands under his head and yawns. “Besides, the little human already said he doesn’t mind.”

“He? (Y/N) is a woman.”

The redhead abruptly sits up and gasps.  

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t get funny ideas, man”, the silver-haired demon warns.

[nataliasquote]

Mustang | cowgirl nat au

Summary: The mayor’s daughter. A bounty hunter. One has freedom, the other does not. But will one fleeting night be enough to convince Natasha to leave everything she’s ever known behind?

Warnings: Natasha is a hot cowgirl, cowboy slang

wc: 4.3k

note: this is for all the cowgirl Nat simps out there (yes you know who you are @katyaromanoffpetrova ). And also for @milfs69420 who drew the inspiration for cowgirl Nat in this scene (i’m obsessed with that drawing no joke). I hope this lives up to expectations!

-⧗-

A loud yell echoed across the grassy plain, rising above the sound of thundering hooves and the distant shriek of a stream train whistle. One lone rider, racing across fields she knew like the back of her hand. Strong thighs squeezed the flanks of the midnight horse beneath her as she raised her arms above her head and tilted her face up to the sky, letting the golden rays of the sun soak into her skin. Not once did her balance falter, years of riding making her feel like an extension of the steed beneath her. Her cheeks started to burn with how hard she was smiling, so she placed both hands back on the reins and kicked her horse to speed up.

There really was nothing that Natasha loved more than riding. It was her escape, her outlet, her way of breaking away from her usual daily duties. Was she out on her horse a bit too often? Her father would say yes. But if there was one thing Natasha Romanoff hated, it was being told what to do.

She’d caught up with the train rolling steadily along the tracks and Natasha leaned forwards, scarlet hair, tied in a single braid, flying behind her from under her hat as she raced beside it, trying to keep up. She could feel the muscles of her horse flexing with every stride they took and the rusted green walls of the carriage were almost in reach of her fingertips if she stretched out towards it. The smoke puffing out of the chimney tainted the air that she breathed in, but she barely noticed it through her euphoria. She knew where this train was headed, towards the larger cities, so she broke away and turned back to her hometown, slowing up as they trotted under the town’s welcome sign.

Most walked their horses through the streets on foot, but Natasha stayed seated, guiding her horse through the swarms of townspeople and down to the large house at the end of the main street. She hopped down and tied him to the fence temporarily, making sure he had enough hay and water before she strolled into the house.

Not even bothering to take her boots off, Natasha waltzed into the kitchen and flopped down on a chair. She tossed her hat onto the table and let out a sigh, staring at the small red symbol on the front of her hat.

“Natasha,” a gruff voice called after her. She rolled her eyes. “Where the hell were you?”

“Out,” was all she replied. She didn’t turn around but could feel her father’s eyes boring into the back of her skull. And his disapproving tone was nothing she wasn’t familiar with.

“You were supposed to be home two hours ago, for the opening ceremony.” Without looking at him, she knew how he was standing. Arms folded across his chest as he took up almost the entire doorway. “Yelena was upset you weren’t there.”

Natasha scoffed. “No she wasn’t, she couldn’t care less.”

“I felt betrayed, actually.” Great, now her sister had joined in. “You’re always choosing Liho over me, don’t you feel my pain?”

“I’m sure you’ll live,” Natasha deadpanned, wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet.

But that was a rarity as the mayor’s daughter. Her whole life was scrutinized, and many people disapproved of her non-traditional ways. “Is there anything else required of me? Or can I leave now?”

Yelena appeared in the corner of her vision, leaning against the kitchen countertop. “Well, I was going to ask if you would come by the range, seeing as you-“

“Ok, so that’s a no.”

“Natasha, be nice to her please. It’s Yelena’s big day!” Alexei’s voice seemed to be in constant ‘public speaker’ mode, which was fine for pretty much everything except quiet conversations in the kitchen. He was too close, and Natasha scraped her chair back and reached for a glass to fill up from the pitcher of sweet tea on the table. Reluctantly, she offered one to Yelena, who accepted with a soft smile. Alexei took their ignorance of his statement to disappear back to his office, and Natasha breathed a small sigh of relief.

“I knew you liked me really.” Natasha deadpanned her comment but Yelena only stifled her giggle behind a sip, the sweet beverage coating her tastebuds deliciously. “I’m not mad, it’s fine. But promise me you’ll shoot this week?”

“I was planning to anyway,” Natasha admitted. “Do you have riding targets too?”

Yelena let out a ‘ha’ and leaned back in her chair, chin tilted towards the window. “What do you take me for, an amateur? That’s like asking if Barton sells beer.”

“Speaking of, fancy a drink?” Yelena gestured to her half full glass with an eyebrow raised. “I was going to go down to Barton’s if you want to join me?”

Yelena thought for a moment, watching a lone ice cube float around her glass. “I would, but I promised Kate I’d meet her at the stables and you know what she’s like if I cancel on her.”

“Suit yourself,” said Natasha. Ok, so maybe she did feel a little remorse over missing the ceremony, but never would she admit that out loud. “I’ll see you later. Oh, and tell Ma to not wait up for me at dinner. I’ll sort myself out.”

“Roger that,” Yelena gave a mock salute and Natasha just rolled her eyes in jest. She grabbed her hat, slipped it on her head and wandered back out of the door, but not before she slipped a few snacks for her horse. Liho was still waiting patiently for her and he swished his tail as he approached, rather fed up of just standing around in the sun.

As Natasha brushed him down and gave the stable a quick tidy, her mind wandered back to the open grassland. What she’d give to never return home, just riding to her heart's content and staying in whatever town she came across. Or just sleeping under the stars, listening to the howls of the coyotes and the thundering hooves of wild horses echoing behind the mountains on the horizon. She craved the freedom that the cowboys had and the small taste she could get would never suffice; she lusted for more.

With a small threat to Peter, the stablehand, to not hurt Liho, Natasha wandered back into the town centre, stopping off at the ammunition store on her way for a magazine refill. She shot the test targets to pieces purely for the fun of it, knowing her aim was impeccable. The owner just rolled his eyes but let her continue; this behaviour was expected. After all, Alexei was a well respected and slightly feared man, which rubbed off onto his daughters too. And Natasha’s fiery temperament was almost as famous as her father was. No one with any brains would ever challenge her to a duel if they wanted to keep their life.

The redhead’s eyes cast over the centre-most building, the brim of her hat concealing the sign on the front. But she didn’t need words to tell her what it was- she knew her second favourite place like the back of her hand. The heels of her boots clicked against the tiled floor as she pushed the wooden saloon doors to swing open, hitting the walls beside them with a crack.

With her hat still dipped low, she paused, surveying the entirety of the room in one fast sweep. Partially content with what she saw, Natasha tipped her hat from her head and tucked it under her arm, feeling strands from her messy braid to fall and frame her face. Green eyes darted across every familiar face, occasionally leading to the subtle tug of a smile to play on her lips if she felt particularly fond of someone, but not many had that blessing. She didn’t pay two minds to the rest of the townspeople once she’d locked on the one person who didn’t think she was completely crazy.

Wild yet utterly desirable, Natasha somehow held every single person captive within her presence. The general chattering subsided as she moved between the tables, even the men who spent their days airing their lungs over bottles of brandy and rum paused their drinking to take a good look at her. If Natasha even cared, she’d be repulsed, but noticing the way the men of the town looked at her had become a thing of the past. She would never settle down so why bother?

The red velvet-topped bar stools were smooth under her jeans as Natasha slid onto one, her hat coming to rest atop the wooden bar. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her green plaid shirt and rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing her forearms with a sigh.

“Didn’t see you at Yelena’s gun range opening today,” the bartender commented as he slid an open bottle of beer in Natasha’s direction. He knew her well, and he should, as her childhood best friend. And Natasha may be unpredictable but her beer choices never wavered.

“Oh don’t tell me you were there too. I swear, if one more person asks me about that I’m going to put a bullet in someone’s head.” Her hand fell to her holster for effect, making the bartender step back, hands raised in surrender. Natasha rolled her eyes and smirked before taking a sip of her beer. “My Pa gave me an earful when I was barely through the door. I don’t see why it matters, Barton, it’s just an opening.”

Clint threw the tea towel he was holding into the sink over his shoulder. “I’m just talking, but she’s your sister, so isn’t it in your duties to go to that kind of thing?”

Natasha shot him an unimpressed look, her brow bone casting a shadow across her eyes in the dim light. “You mean that as her sister, or as the mayor’s daughter? I plan on using the range anyway, so why do I need to show my face now? It’s not even about me.” She puffed out her cheeks and rested her chin on the hand that was placed on the beer bottle rim. “If I was Lena, I’d be happy my sister didn’t show up. She can have the spotlight for a change.”

“Where did you go, exactly?” Clint was the only one who would listen to Natasha’s tales, so he just let her talk whilst he worked. Gave him something refreshing to think about instead of his unruly customers.

“I caught wind of a new group riding out by the Ridge yesterday, so I wanted to check it out. Saw nothing but Ol’ Joe moving his cattle. Swear that man digs for his cannon ev’ry chance he gets.”

“Well, he’s not the best with people,” said Clint, only realising afterwards that he’d just stated the obvious. “Is that what you want though? A group like that?”

Natasha pursed her lips. She hadn’t thought through the logistics of what her future looked like, she knew it involved a lot more open space and a lot less… people. “Not a group, I couldn’t handle that.”

“Nat, you know it’s not safe out there on your own. You need your home, a family.” Clint was family orientated to the core, but the same couldn’t be said for Natasha. “You know it’s even worse for women.”

“I can handle myself,” Natasha scoffed, feeling rather put out by his insinuation. “I don’t need a bunch of asshat guys telling me what to do!

“I know, but-“

“If I wanted an argument, I would have stayed at home,” she pointed out. Clint’s mouth opened before he closed it with a huff, thinking better than to protest again. Natasha’s hands tugged her hair out of her braid, reveling in the feeling of it falling loose around her shoulders.

She chewed on her lip, trying to suppress the anxious feeling bubbling low in her stomach. With each passing day, the small town life rattled her and the walls of the village seemed to close in. It had taken root in her chest since she was a child, that feeling of longing never quite subsiding.

Clint moved off to serve customers further down the bar, leaving the redhead lost in her own mind. Slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the glass bottle.

What did she want? Natasha knew how her dreams played out, but Clint was right; where was her stability? The thought of being alone was heavenly, but that was coming from someone who had never truly experienced it. She’d been surrounded by people since the day she was born, and those fleeting moments of freedom with just Liho for company were the best she’d felt.

But what did a future full of that entail? She’d idealised it to the point where she was biased, getting defensive whenever anyone tried to make her see sense. She may not see eye to eye with her father anymore, but the stubbornness she inherited from him was a clear determiner of her roots and more importantly, her home.

A cacophony of whistles erupted from the tables behind her, snapping her out of her spiral and Natasha turned on her stool to take a look at the source of the commotion. A woman stood in the doorway, dressed similarly to Natasha, which was rather uncommon in this town. Most of the women wore skirts, so seeing another in jeans that wasn’t Natasha, Yelena or Kate had heads turning.

Natasha watched the way the stranger’s hand instinctively flew to her holster as her eyes adjusted to the darkened room, a bitter contrast to the sun blazed street just outside. The saloon was always kept dark, just the way Natasha liked it, but it did look a bit intimidating from an outsider’s perspective.

Ignoring the outstretched hands of drunk men that grabbed at her from their seats at the closest tables, the woman picked her way through the crowd, her hips swaying in her jeans and brown fringed chaps as she rounded the final table and slumped down onto a stool. Natasha peered at Clint out of the corner of her eye and tried to hide her smile, taking a long sip of her beer bottle as the stranger sat four seats over.

“What’s the strongest stuff you’ve got?” The stranger asked Clint, her hat still sat squarely on her head. A strange move in Natasha’s eyes, but it added to the air of mystery around her and the redhead couldn’t help but watch her reflection in the glass opposite.

“I’ve got a couple bottles of whiskey if that’s what you’re after?”

“I’ll get a glass of that, thanks.”

Natasha pulled a face, impressed. “Going for the hard stuff, I see.”

The stranger didn’t turn her head, keeping her eyes down and focussed on her hands that rested atop the bar. “Something like that.”

There was something different about her, something refreshing. Natasha stood up, grabbed her beer bottle and wandered down the bar, now appearing on the seat beside the stranger. She leaned on the bar, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the curve of her hips in her jeans. The stranger’s head moved slightly, trying to get the best view of Natasha that she could.

Clint read his friend’s body language like he was fluent, and quickly swapped her bottles so she was presented with a fresh drink. Natasha waited a couple of seconds before striking up conversation again, not put out by the stranger’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Is this seat taken?”

The stranger shook her head and scooted over, nursing her glass of whiskey with both hands. She was nervous and guarded and Natasha saw the twitch of her fingers that seemed uncontrollable.

“I’ve not seen you before. You not from around here?” Her southern drawl was laid on thick, emphasising the rasp in her voice that came out when she spoke properly. Natasha’s skill set didn’t stop at shooting. She was incredibly proficient at flirting and Clint loved to just stand back and watch her pick her next target that wandered into his bar.

The stranger finally turned to Natasha and lifted her hat from her head, revealing her face and piercing eyes that bore into Natasha’s. “Is it that obvious I’m not from around here?”

Natasha laughed around the rim of her bottle and readjusted her stance, using her movement as a way to take in the woman with a quick flick up and down. “I know my people,” she replied, gesturing to the full tables behind them. Her eyes fell to the stranger’s lips. “And I’d remember a face like yours, darlin’.”

The mysterious woman’s cheeks flushed red and she took a swig of whiskey, welcoming the burn that flooded her chest. The hot feeling racing through her body was purely alcohol induced… wasn’t it?

The brunette ducked her head down, embarrassed. “I’m only passing through. Had to stop off at the stables to get my horse’s hooves checked. Ran across a thorn patch, she did.”

“Well, Bishops’ will take good care of her. And in the meantime, does the gorgeous woman have a pretty name to match?”

Whiskey was by far the best choice she could have made- it could account for the now permanent flush that took residence in her cheeks. The woman turned on her stool and let her knees fall open loosely, her body language much less guarded.

“I’m Y/n. And you are..?”

“Natasha Romanoff, at your service.” The redhead quickly put her hat on and tipped it forwards, eliciting a laugh from the woman opposite. Clint eyed their interaction as he dried some glasses, grinning to himself at how effective Natasha’s charm truly was. She turned it on with the tip of her hat and a flash of her smile, making men and women alike stop dread in their tracks.

“You’re the mayor’s daughter?” Something flashed across Y/n’s eyes but it was gone as quickly as it came and Natasha couldn’t decipher it.

“Yeah,” she trailed off, frowning slightly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” Y/n gave her a smile, nodding to the stool beside her. Natasha sat far too quickly, like an obedient dog. One glance from a gorgeous woman had turned her to mush- what was happening?

A couple of loud thuds resonated from the back of the room and Natasha rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who sat there regularly. “Hey, Romanoff, give us a dance, will ya?” A leering voice echoed above the general hum of conversation and Y/n watched as Natasha rolled her eyes and adjusted her gun that sat in a holster on her hip.

“Give it up, Stark, you’re barking at a knot.” The man in question jeered at her and banged his beer bottle on the barrel table, several men around him doing the same. “If you wanna watch me dance, you better pay me for it.” This only gained her more nonsensical yelling and a man on Stark’s table threw a dollar bill in her direction.

But Natasha just stood up, squared her shoulders and fired her handgun in their direction, the bullet slamming into the wall mere inches above Stark’s head. She blew the smoke off her gun with a cocky smirk and shoved it back in the holster. The entire saloon fell silent, aside from Clint’s mutterings about yet another hole to fix thanks to his fiery friend.

Natasha waited a second longer, almost daring Stark and his guys to test her again. But they didn’t, now only watching her warily as she turned back to her new woman who was watching with a slack jaw. Natasha felt a burst of pride surge through her chest and she puffed it out slightly, sinking down into her seat with one foot up on the footrest, her legs manspreading.

“I’m sorry about that, that was no way to treat a new lady.”

Y/n snickered, shaking her head. “Oh please, I ain’t a lady. I’ve seen worse men than that in towns over, they really never change.”

Natasha’s gaze had drifted to the way the brunette’s hair fell over her shoulder, and how soft it looked despite being so exposed to the elements. But at the mention of different towns she snapped, eyes wide.

“You’ve visited other towns?” She tried to keep her cool, but there was truly no hiding her excitement. This woman had everything Natasha wanted and more.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” she admitted, watching Natasha’s face change. “But I ain’t got much work at the moment. There’s not many people that trust a woman to do what a man can do.”

“So you’re just… floating between towns?”

Y/n nodded, taking a sip of her whiskey. “Yup, it’s just me and my girl. And the occasional over-friendly landlord who tries to get up in my business.”

Natasha’s mind was racing like a mustang. She felt almost childish, wanting to hear stories of her travels and what the world was really like. Y/n could see her curiosity, it was too apparent to mask, and it was like a breath of fresh air. All too often she was met with disapproving glances and was often the butt of circulating gossip, housewives and prostitutes judging her uncommon way of life. But she was happy, and no one was about to take that away from her.

“Where are you from?”

Y/n’s smile faltered and she traced the rim of her now empty whisky glass. “I don’t think about that. Doesn’t matter where I’m from, I’m never going back. There’s nothing for me there. My life is out here now.”

“I wish,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Y/n heard it but didn’t comment. After all, they were just two strangers in a bar, nothing more.

“So, if you’re the mayor’s girl, you must know what there is to do around here.” Her words had an element of teasing to them, which didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha.

Natasha shook her head with a laugh. Ten minutes in and already poking fun at who she was. Why was that so attractive? “There’s a barn dance later if you want to come?” Natasha suggested. “That is, if you’re sticking around for that long.”

“I’ve got a compelling reason to now,” Y/n teased, toying with the hints Natasha had been sending her way.

Natasha quirked her brow and raised an arm behind her head, her bicep flexing slightly under her scrunched up shirt sleeves. “Well, I never turn down the chance to take a pretty girl to a dance.”

“Sounds like you have experience.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes in playful accusation “Is that a problem to you?”

“Not at all. I like a woman who knows what she’s doing.” Her words were heavy and even Clint raised his eyebrows, having been listening in to their conversation whilst he polished glasses.

“Then you’re in for a real treat, darlin’.” Natasha held eye contact and took a swig of her beer, licking her lip as a drop escaped. Y/n stared back at her and then coughed, using that as her excuse to look away. Anyone could feel the air shift and Clint walked away, shaking his head with a smile. God, Natasha certainly knew how to play this game.

“Where did you say you were staying?” Natasha continued, probing yet more information out of the poor woman.

“Here, actually,” Y/n answered, gesturing towards the door that led to the small assortment of lodgings that the saloon housed “ ‘S the only place willing to take someone like me.”

“Barton!” The man in question looked around guiltily. “Keeping things from me now, are we?”

“You were out! When was I gonna tell ya?”

Natasha grunted and jutted her chin out at him, furious that he’d watched their interaction knowing exactly who this woman was. And Y/n found the whole ordeal rather funny, having made the connection that they knew each other a little while ago.

“Well, if you’re stayin’ here, I know where to pick you up later.”

“Inviting me to a dance and picking me up? Do all foreign girls get this treatment from you?”

Natasha winked coyly, sliding her hat along the bar where she’d left it. “Only the special ones.”

“Oh you’re flannel-mouthed!” Y/n exclaimed, to which Natasha only shrugged cockily. “I’ll be waitin’. Right here, so don’t be late.”

“Roger that,” Natasha responded, mimicking Yelena from earlier. She stood up with a flourish, placed her hat on her head and took Y/n’s hand to place a kiss on the back of it, treating her like a proper lady. Clint wolf whistled her, receiving an insult thrown his way before Natasha had disappeared back through the doors she’d come through, leaving them swinging back and forth with the momentum.

“She’s a wild one, watch out.” Clint nodded after the redhead, silently laughing to himself at her dramatics. Always one for the exits, she was.

But Y/n didn’t even notice his amusement. She was gazing at the gunshot hole left in the wall across the room, and more specifically, thinking about the woman that put it there.

“The wilder the better, I always say,” was all she replied, her mind now miles away. Sure, she said that about horses, but Y/n was starting to think that applied to the women she surrounded herself with too.

[satoruhour]

hello :) may i ask a husband nanami headcanons? your so talented!

a/n: ty anon !!! i hope u like this :3

warnings: (in second half of post) pregnancy kink? breeding / creampie kink ofc, consensual somnophilia, praise, pet names

i. sfw headcanons

nanami is so sweet when he first proposes to you! ofc you have sex on the daily or weekly but when he’s reading his speech to you when he’s kneeling down it’s so sweet that you cry

and this dude wonders why you’re tearing up when his words literally mirror a poet’s LMFAO

nanami proposes at a quiet place only the two of you frequent, to avoid unwanted attention like crowds (he’s just thinking about gojo and how annoying he would be)

but also because he just wants it to be as special as he can make it out to be

honestly, if the whole kuantan thing works out he would love to propose there while the waves and horizon set the scene naturally. like he already knew he wanted to retire from being a jujutsu sorcerer here but he just melts when you’re here too. everything wrapped up in one, and the tear-filled “yes!!!” makes him jump and warms his heart

has a dinner laid out for you and everything and if the beach is deserted he wouldn’t mind having u right there LOL hes quiet but freaky just sayin’ !!!

when you walk down the aisle he cries. really

and is now obsessed with how he can call you ”his wife” as opposed to “his girl” 

okay but now on to the domesticity. the dynamics are almost the same: he isn’t against you heading out to earn your own money, and he’s more than happy to be a stay-at-home husband if you want him to, but seeing you in your cute apron has him already thinking of family and how you would bounce the baby on your arm as you prepare dinner

nanami is more doting when he’s your husband, not that he wasn’t before, but he thinks it’s the old age when he sees your leg cramp and he massages it or when you squint at your book so he turns up your lamp to a higher setting

also likes to flaunt off his wedding ring, albeit with flushed cheeks. he does it when he drinks tea, sliding gojo his paper work, polishing his weapon and it’s silent, laidback bragging and only gets annoyed when gojo asks about it

if anyone else does it he’s happy to talk about you lol

is a lot more slack when it comes to his salary and treating you to things, saying things like “oh, it’s okay, my pretty wife deserves this”

nanami does his part of the housework now that you’re permanently living together and pulls his weight — buying cleaning supplies, folding the laundry, buying food for the dog

he doesn’t care much about gender roles and is willing to show you that a good husband shouldn’t just be a milestone to complete and then immediately refuses to participate in household work

deadbeat husbands = boooooo

for now you’re still busy as jujutsu sorcerers, but after a year or two of being married he’s trying to convince you to take less missions, partially because he’s afraid of curses taking advantage of your relationship (not that they didnt before, but now they have a leverage against you) and marriage to hold either of you hostage

but the main reason for the persuasion is because he wanted a kid. and you step back in shock because nanami kento? wanting a kid? it seemed so out of character for him but considering how much he liked to come in you… was already pretty telling

like he loved the dog but also wanted like. biological kids. it was wild, he knows, even when you tell gojo (he’s still a little mad that you did, but it was an accident), even the six-eyes user was pretty surprised.

when the kid comes he’s just. crying again. he really loves you so much, and the fact that you carried a baby for nine months and was in pain for 12 hours and then pushed a whole ass baby out ur vagina? goddamn

you two name her nanami kumiko and he holds her like she’s the only one in the world (besides you), cooing gently as how the baby seem to snuggle into his warmth

he gives her a danish name too: ida, but he’s not sure if he should include it in the birth certificate, so he didn’t

he is very protective of his girl, especially how you techniques seemed to be passed down and how the jujutsu society might be seeking out your offspring in kuantan, but he makes sure no one comes close to the two of you, even asking gojo reluctantly to monitor any news of the higher-ups looking to ruin her childhood

nanami really thinks it’s age now, because he find it so hard to say no to your baby girl whenever she asks for something — whether non-verbal or verbal

is a calm dad, usually burping the baby after you feed her, changing her diapers, etc., even suggesting bonding by holding her close with skin-to-skin contact and you're surprised he even knows about that

you give in when you see that he does it anyway, rocking the baby softly on the balcony with his top off, already knowing she’s going to be a daddy’s girl when she grows up

spoils his daughter but still disciplines her when it’s necessary, but he reverts to gentle parenting when he needs to. learns how to tie hair because of her, teaches her about manners and consent and tells her he has no problem if she decides to punch a guy one day. she’s just confused lol, why would i need to do that, dad?

bless him, she got your kind disposition, but yeah he emphasises that she should stand up for herself if needed

during pregnancy, he’s also making sure you never lift a finger, running across the house to complete errands, going out to buy your cravings and regulating your diet. it’s pretty cute but nanami is sometimes really strict about what you eat because he doesn’t want your health to decline lol

“just one cup of coffee… please?”

nanami only grunts in disapproval, hoping a peck to your forehead can wake you up, ”no.”

okay but that’s a lot, i have a lot of Thoughts

now…. 

ii. nsfw headcanons

building on that hc earlier abt going from calling you ”his girl” to ”his wife”, he uses it so much in the bedroom you’d think it was a fetish

and you kinda understand it, there’s the jump of your heart when he introduces you as “his wife” compared to a mere girlfriend

honest to god, coming home that day and seeing you cook wasn’t the first time he’s thought of having a kid. it’s happened many times before, seeing you interact with the first-years, guiding a first-grader home after a mission

and sure he’s done it before, but you’re always on the pill and he has really really thought of getting a vasectomy, but then he thinks of how cute you’d look with a round belly, carrying his baby and that glow that he knows he’s the reason for

so the day he proposes to you, he fucks you like an animal, cumming deep in you with choked groans and fills you up.

wedding night? same thing

but what really got him going was after he told you about wanting a kid, and you begging with those eyes of yours is what drove that string to snap. “i w-want you— shit— to fuck a baby into me, kento!” 

wheew and he goes insane. nanami loves it when you beg for his cum, legs locked around his body to get him to do it. you’re relentless too, spreading your folds for him as his cum seeps out slowly and soon he’s fucking his cum deep into you again, filling you up two, three, four times

and he doesn’t exactly care if that time doesn’t work because now he knows you aren’t taking contraception so he just does it regularly for good measure.

you aren’t complaining because you’ve never seen nanami so feral when he’s pushing his cum deep into you, whether it’s with his cock or with his fingers. that period before your pregnancy was so fulfilling that you wouldn’t mind pushing out another baby for your husband, if it meant getting railed by a man on a mission to make you a mommy

by god he fucks you on every surface of the house

when you’re pregnant too, you can’t help but get wet bc of your hormones and sometimes comes home from work, tired and needing some relief

he finds relief between your legs when you’re sleeping, talking about how nice it was to get used while sleeping, but you didn’t expect nanami to utilise it while you’re pregnant. you wince and groan as you sit up, but you need to see your husband lapping at your cunt immediately, moaning into your core like a starved man

but ofc nanami is a lot gentler when you’re pregnant. he offers to do the work, thrusts gentler and less impactful, but he still feels so good

a few years after marriage, sex is still an ongoing thing, but it’s converted more into love-making and lazy intercourse because you weren’t exactly young. sure you both would go crazy a few times a week but it was difficult with a maturing kid in the room next to yours.

you both would also take the time to discover other kinks!!! always busy, it was a difficult thing to do, but in between taking care of kumiko and handling lighter missions, you’d find new ways to continue keeping your love and sex life exciting

nanami liked going slow with you too though whispering into your ears endless praises of how you were doing do well, settling into missionary so he could see how his thrusts still had the same effect it did on you years ago

“doing so well, sweetheart. that’s it… my pretty wife’s such a good girl f’r me.” 

nanami wasn’t against a second child, but sometimes he sees how much you go through in labour and in pregnancy that he becomes lightheaded with what could happen to you, especially with the unexpected illnesses that come with pregnancies. he told himself he would only grant you another if you ask for it

but then one day when kumiko prances up to you in the midst of her math homework, asking when she would get a little sibling and youre taken aback while nanami just chokes on his tea

yeah, sure, you taught her sex education way before her peers and how babies are made but you didn’t expect to actually ask the two of you straight up about having a sister or brother

that night, you mulled over the decision, and nanami mumbles into your neck from the back, ”don’t worry about kumiko, baby. she’ll probably forget it sooner or later.”

“but what if i want to give her one though?” you mumble, your smaller hand guiding his lower and lower…

“do you want to?” nanami only can suck in a breath when he feels your throbbing cunt, your nimble fingers showing his how you liked your clit to be rubbed. even if he knows you inside out he still lets you do it, “i do… do you, kento?”

his first name is whispered, breaking the tension and nanami has to hold himself back from handling you too roughly, loving the way you grin languidly.

oh, here comes round 2!

omg headcanons are so fun lol i never wrote 1k words so fast since they’re informal and chill

[agoodroughandtumble]

Do You Think They Know? - Zoro x Reader

Status: Complete (Part 1 of 5) Summary: A culmination of oneshots ascertaining Reader & Zoro's relationship Warning: SWF - following parts may include 18+, Language, implied smut

1.

To say you enjoyed watching Zoro during his daily work out would be an understatement. But you were only human – were you not supposed to notice when the incredibly attractive shirtless swordsman decided to get hot and sweaty right in front of you?

You bit your lip, trying not to stare quite so overtly at the bead of sweat threatening to make its way down his temple. Alright… maybe you were there deliberately for that very reason. A very, slight, small chance. And no way a thought out process and perfect timing. But Zoro was like clockwork. Which, if you were being honest, made your life a lot easier. It was certainly not a coincidence when you had asked Nami if she wanted to join you on deck to sunbathe. Obviously she was aware of your intention but thankfully was willing to play the fool and allow you to indulge in the “surprise” that Zoro just so happened to be half naked and sweaty as you were setting up the sun-loungers.

You cast a quick glance over in her direction but she didn’t seem to be paying attention – face turned towards the sky and enjoying one of the more peaceful moments aboard the Merry. The wind was gently toying with her hair and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious about how relaxed and confident she looked, seemingly without effort. Whereas you were fighting the urge to fight your shorts for the twentieth time in an attempt to look perfectly casual but also hot as fuck. It was a line you had never managed to toe.

“One of these days I’m just going to lock you two in the hold.” Nami said, leaning up slightly to give you a knowing look.

You could feel your cheeks getting warmer. It was certainly no secret that you had certain … inclinations towards Zoro but Nami wasn’t usually so upfront about her knowledge of it. Although your perverted mind was quite enjoying the idea of being locked in small confinement… Urgh. No. “I’m just sunbathing.” You said, relaxing more into your lounger until a thought popped into your head. You turned towards her, eyebrows furrowed, “Wait – what do you mean?”

Nami rolled her eyes. “Er. The eye fucking. It’s pretty obvious.”

You glared at her. “Yes, I know I am. Has he said anything? Is he … eye fucking?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, lips pressing into the corner of her mouth; giving you a look as if you’d just asked if water was wet. “Yeah, this is a you guys thing.”

You playfully slapped her thigh, “You started this. Least you can do is tell me what to do about it?”

The redhead shrugged, shuffling further into her lounger. “I heard about this cool new thing called “talking”. Maybe try that?”

You rolled your eyes. “I hate you. Do I look alright?”

A smirk crossed her features. “Just talk to him.”

Taking Nami’s advice you tried to casually walk over to him. He was just finishing with his weights, presumably about to start on press-ups. Of course you hadn’t watched his routines enough times by now to find the perfect time to make an appearance. That would be weird. And slightly stalker-ish. It just so happened that yours and Nami’s conversation had come to a natural conclusion and so the opportunity to speak to Zoro had simply fallen into your lap. So Nami could stop looking at you like that.

“Does being shirtless help build muscle?” You asked, cocking your head.

Zoro rolled his eyes, trying to keep the smirk from his face, “Too distracting for you?”

“You wish.” Arms folded against your chest, you continued. “If I wanted to be distracted by an attractive guy I’d go to the kitchen.”

His face hardened a little. “I’d like to see Curly Brows lift something heavier than his ego.”

“Hmm.” Despite Zoro’s obvious irritation, you couldn’t help but push a little further. Besides, it was far too easy to wind Zoro up as soon as Sanji was involved. Practically an open goal. “Well, he must be doing something right to look like that.”

There was a pause. Then the penny dropped. Zoro let out a frustrated grunt. “Did you come over solely to wind me up?”

“Not solely,” a hint of a smirk swept across your features, “But that’s definitely a positive outcome.”

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you towards his chest. You stumbled slightly, letting out a giggle until the muscle wall of his chest made you catch your breath. His eyes were entirely focused on yours. You swallowed. “What did you come over here for then?”

Somehow managing to gain your composure you stepped backwards out of his grip. Maintaining eye contact, fuck, it was hard to have any cerebral activity when he looked at you like that. You steadied yourself. Focus. You shot him a smile, “That would be telling.”

*

It might be the way he loomed over you. It might be the way his body appeared – and felt – like a solid wall of muscle. It might be the way your leg oh so naturally draped over his hips – either way, whenever Zoro asked if you wanted to join him for a nap there was not a single atom in your body that could refuse.

He was always sprawled out – work out trousers and either a vest or shirtless allowing you to sink completely into his warmth (and his arms, although you always tried and failed to notice that part). When you had first started napping together it was purely just for a nap after training. Zoro would be unconscious within seconds and you would lie there staring at him willing, needing him to make any sort of move towards you. So you wouldn’t sleep. You would shift away from him as far as possible, back to back, trying to desperately ignore the few agonizing inches separating your feet from his. Desperately hoping that he was feeling the same way, that he would be the first one to fold. And then he would start snoring.

Not exactly the precursor to making bad decisions.

But. Then.

Because he was an arsehole he would wrap his arms around you. He would bury his face into your neck. He would still snore, so still managing to prevent you from sleeping. But he was there. Intertwining limbs – sometimes practically on top of you whilst being completely oblivious to you lying there and wishing he was doing something, anything.

Or at least anything other than snoring so you could sleep too.

It was during one of these “naps” when Zoro essentially had you in a choke hold and all you could think about was how maybe he could have you in a different sort of choke hold when Robin walked into the cabin, opened her mouth to say something and on making eye contact quickly shut the door again. You let out a frustrated sigh and tried to push Zoro off of you. He was a dead weight. You festered in your embarrassment.

[peachetteprice]

Stern Captain John Price...

...Who is a total dog guy through-and-through but eventually succumbs to your cat's pretty face. It isn't an evening with him in your apartment without him muttering, whilst he's cooking;

"What?"

"Hey!"

"What's the matter, lovie?"

"What is it, darlin'?"

"Dearie me, you're very vocal today, ain't ya?"

Every time she meows for attention. In a voice so tender that you know he's never used on you. He relentlessly volunteers to feed the poor thing and asks if she can have more biscuits, despite your warnings that the vet advised not to over-feed her (because she's the most determined scavenger you know - you'd think she was a character on Lost with how desperately she screeches for any morsel of food in her immediate vicinity), but he still frowns, waits five minutes, then sneaks her a handful of biscuits - from his palm, which she gladly takes, because again, Lost, as well as him knowing that you'll hear it if they clatter into the dish - all the while, during which, he ensures via a dozen glances over his shoulder that you aren't about to chastise him for it.

Sweet John thinks you haven't noticed the extra chunkiness around her primordial pouch, but you have - you're just too kind to say anything about it (and you secretly adore the way his eyebrows raise whenever you announce that it's feeding time).

Do not be deceived that he won't still insist that he's a dog person.

Because he will.

Every damn time he comes around will he see your cat, fold his arms and say "you know, I'm more of a dog person, I am", only to rush to the couch and wait patiently - never staring, never moving a muscle because he initially assumes all cats are jittery, distrustful creatures worthy of the attention of a God, not a mere mortal such as himself (and he's not wrong with half of that drivel) - until she clambours on his lap and curls into a shrimp.

He gasps the first time it happens and exclaims;

"Love!" And tilts his head to her like she's a statue that he needs a secondary opinion to be given of whether it's moved before he checks (it has not).

Unfortunately, with all of the sweet things he does, he also actively asks if there's any housework to be done whilst he's over. Oh, because he wants to do it like the gentleman he is, considering you routinely give up your bed, body, and fridge for him? No. Silly! He wants to make sure you're running around like a headless chicken so that he can have a few more minutes of your cat sleeping in his lap, because as soon as your arse hits the cushions, she chirps up and crawls over to yours, instead.

He's a little bit confused when it comes to cats. He often watches her sleep, palms his beard, gives her a point - the same one he gives when he tells his boys off - and asks, most sincerely;

"Is she comfy like that, love? Won't her head ache after a while?"

But, oh, John, she's loafing! It's her natural state.

It takes him a long while to adjust to the various positions in which she clumps, the variable number of nicknames you give her on the daily, and the variety of noises your lips make as you call her to you, but John's a fast learner. Soon enough, she'd rather saunter his way and arch herself along his shin with a saccharine meow than respond to the fact that she needs flea-ing, even if you need her here, now.

Otherwise, she'll dirty the place up, and John'll complain about having an itchy beard again!

And we can't have that happen, because he spent all of ten minutes combing his beard - the same one she nuzzled her chin up against a few days prior - whilst you were undressed in bed, sighing, somewhat cold, waiting until he'd checked it thoroughly before he gave himself the all clear to eat you out until you came.

And the very next morning, what did he do?

He opened the bedroom door - only wearing his boxers - and carted her in to wake you up, yowling and purring. And, though you love her, and you wish nothing but happiness for her, it was something of a rude awakening when you'd rather be fast asleep, repenting for the hours of sleep you'd lost from being fucked within an inch of your life. It's something he catches onto, thank God, as he scoops her up by the belly - shit, he's getting really good at that - and tosses her out of the room, before sinking into the sheets once more to pepper kisses along your bare skin until, finally, begrudgingly, you wake up and he can play with her again!

(Oh, but he'll never admit he actually likes the thing. No. Never. Any emotion resembling that of pleasure is purely on behalf of you. It's what he thinks you'd like... and, with that being said...)

God forbid you make the mistake of mentioning wanting another cat because as soon as you do, he'll slam his phone on the counter, give you a positively wide-eyed stare - almost like a kid on Christmas - and insist that you should. Well, only because your cat needs a friend whilst you're both gone (despite the fact that she's four years old already...)

And, of course, with that territory comes a dozen screenshots of cats for adoption from Pets4Homes, Pre-loved and various animal trust websites that he think will be a perfect fit for your cat - when he really should be finalising paperwork - complete with a bemoaning message of:

Not trying to sway you in any direction, gorgeous.

Except he is.

Oh, and... what's that? Oh, yeah. It fucking works.

Because barely three months after he made his mark in your flat, are you placing a carrier containing a little tortoiseshell kitten (his favourite listing that he sent on the daily, and practically wa-hey-ed with delight during a very very serious briefing with Laswell at the prospect of being home that night to meet the kiddo) before the closed carrier of your cat, and - almost as if it was fate, played by the hand of God himself (John, that is) - they're more than happy to co-habit, and John's soon finding ways to sneak them both shreds of leftover roast chicken every Sunday.

The cheeky sod.

| Masterlist |

[gallusrostromegalus]

Okay but given that crows are ready to Throw Down with eagles at the slightest opportunity, I have to know- 1) are there crows in the Seireitei and 2) how much of their Daily Enrichment is causing problems for the 11th Division on purpose?

There absolutely are crows and jays and even ravens in the Seireitei and very nearly all of their daily enrichment is causing some level of mayhem at every division of the Gotei-13,

...except the 11th.

See, Zaraki has the distinct advantage over most eagles in that he is also a human, with a canny eye for social dynamics, and he's worked out a deal with the local corvids. He noticed the pair of ravens on the roof of the 11th the first afternoon he was there, made a note of them, carefully folded it up, and put it in his mental back pocket for later.

The ravens didn't actually notice him that much on the first day because there was an entire bisected corpse of the former Kenpachi and the medics were delayed in retrieving it for some reason so that meant lungs and liver and a spleen and gallbladder and a special course of freshly exposed brains before an eyeball each for dessert while some poor wretch from the 4th completely failed to chase them off with a broom. They did very much notice him in the middle of the afternoon on the second day, when he returned from the early morning captain's meeting they had slept through, on account of yesterday's food coma. -But even still sluggish with guts full of guts, they still sat up and took notice of a man wearing, loud, shiny and extremely steal-able BELLS.

A-ho, A-ho! Called the first raven from the middle boughs of the pine in the courtyard as the new Kenpachi sat down on the porch that surrounded the small and rather pathetic little garden, sighing deeply. What's this that jingle-jangles in like a jester and sighs and settles like a corpse at the bottom of a lake?

A great way for your mate to lose her beak if she gets any closer. He growled back, and the raven on the roof behind him startled, flapping away out of his blade's reach.

A-joke! A-joke! Don't hiss and rattle so! She huffed, joining her wife on the pine and ruffling her feathers.

It might be amusing sport on another day, but I have no humor to speak of. He clattered, turning his patch-covered eye to them in apology. I have suffered a bereavement.

A-no! A-no! Who is it who has died? Asked the first raven.

One who granted me the knowledge of letters, and further so, the wisdom of tales- in telling, and moreso in listening. Thrice blessed by her I was, and only now do I learn of her demise, fifty years too late. He explained, rubbing his temples and shaking his head, trying to soothe himself.

A-woe! A-woe! cooed the second raven in agreement. Any who teaches is a living saint, and their passing the most terrible loss.

A-woe, A-woe! the first raven cooed in sympathy. She didn't leave clutch or wife for you to look after?

She had a husband, but I do not know his name, and he is apparently deceased as well. The Kenpachi frowned. Her brother yet lives- he is my colleague even, and how I learned of this. A wretched way to meet someone she spoke so highly of- but you are right, he needs looking after. He is... unwell, and was never thriving to begin with, but the same sort of saint of words as she, and much braver than his body should allow. Of course, I will look after him for her, as is right.

A-woe, A-woe- A wretched meeting but the right and honorable thing to do. Nodded the second raven.

A-woe, A-woe, but this is not the source of your miserable sighing? asked the first. No, his care does not worry me- The Kenpachi shook his head, folding a leg up and resting his elbow on it and his cheek on his hand in turn. It's that I am left to wonder- If I had known sooner, or even before this catastrophe, if there was something I might have done. But you are interesting company so I will divert myself from useless morose- what do you call yourselves, carrion queens that live beneath my roof?

I am Mun-Yin! Declared the second raven, that spoke only in statements.

If she is Mun-Yin, might I then be Hau-Yin? Asked the first, who spoke only in questions.

You might. The Kenpachi nodded.

A-so? A-so? Who might you be that wears the shredded rags of a dead man like a pauper, but speaks with the grace of a prince? Hau-Yin asked, hopping from the pine to a closer boulder, cocking her head at him.

A-ho! A-ho! It may be your house that supports our nest, but we live above your roof, not under it! Mun-Yin laughed, hopping closer as well.

I am Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of the 11th division! He smirked at the birds who rolled their eyes at him.

A-no! A-no! Pouted Mun-Yin We didn't ask for your NAME!

A-no! A-no! Sulked Hau-Yin Who ARE you?

The Kenpachi regarded them for a moment, then lifted his head from his hand and leaned forward, a conspiratorial grin on his face. Would you like to know a secret?

A-yo! A-yo! We love a secret! Said Mun-Yin, bouncing in excitement.

A-yo! A-yo! Do we not spend all day learning all the secrets of the city? Giggled Hau-Yin.

Then I will offer you a trade- The Kenpachi grinned, beckoning then closer. -I'll tell you who I am if you promise to leave my hair-bells alone.

Hmmm... the ravens considered, then shook their heads.

A-low, A-low, those are some very shiny jingle-jangle bells, and that's but one measly little secret. frowned Mun-Yin

A-low, A-low- Agreed Hau-Yin. That's not much of a trade is it?

On the contrary, it's a very good secret! Maybe the best secret in all of the Seireitei! The Kenpachi wagged his finger at them. Nobody knows it but me and my daughter, so it's very exclusive! And the risk is all on my end- some secrets are dangerous to know, but in this case, it would grant you great advantage- it would be DEEPLY embarrassing for me if any of the humans -and whatever Komamura is- were to find out.

Hmmm... the birds considered again, and nodded this time.

A-Quo! A-Quo! Very Exclusive and Deeply Embarrassing Secrets are The Best! We will take very good trade! Agreed Mun-Yin

A-Show! A-Show! Who are you, that we will leave your bells alone? asked Hau-Yin, hopping closer and bowing her head, looking up at him with a mischievously glittering eye.

I am Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of The Eleventh Division, Father of Yachiru, Great Sword Bastard of the North 80th District, and most relevant to you- Youngest and Most Beloved Son of She Who Rules The Sky.

The ravens stared blankly at him for a moment.

What that fuck? Asked Hau-Yin.

Didn't realize we were speaking to ROYALTY. Muttered Mun-Yin

See? It's a VERY good secret! The Prince Kenpachi grinned, leaning back and lounging a bit- someone like him could make even a bare wooden porch look like a throne. -Also, you see how you DO SO live under my roof! He added, pointing up at the clouds.

The ravens shuffled a bit nervously, reconsidering him.

A-so? A-so? Hau-Yin asked, cautiously, shuffling a sideways to him.-How does Your Highness come to be a Shinigami then?

A-so! A-so! nodded Mun-Yin. Your Highness and We alike are strange enough birds for taking Names, but to take a JOB is unheard of!

It has it's benefits... The Prince Kenpachi shrugged. Alas, I may be Her Majesty's Son, but I did not inherit my mother's wings and guts, so I cannot live on the wind and whatever I might find by the roadside alone. Still- like a Name, a Job both restricts and offers opportunity- I am bound by duty, but I also am gifted a dry and sturdy nest and all the meat I may eat in exchange. And better still- My daughter now has her choice of tutors and scholars to learn greater Wisdom than I ever will.

A-sow! A-sow! Mun-Yin considered. You do reap well in that exchange!

A-though, A-though- considered Hau-Yin. Would you have the chance to reap in such fashion had you the wings of your mother? Are you perhaps Blessed in strange Human fashion?

The Prince Kenpachi laughed. Perhaps I am! Perhaps you may be even more blessed than I- you have wings and carrion-guts, but you are not bereft! I can offer you similar employment, if you should find it agreeable.

A-ho! A-ho! You are in a fine humor now, My Prince! Chirped Mun-Yin.

A-ho! A-ho! What is this Job you have in mind for the like of us? Asked Hau-Yin, intrigued.

I am in much better humor now, thanks to you both. The Prince agreed, offering Hau-Yin an outstretched hand and patting his knee to indicate Mun-Yin should join him too. There is naught you may do against death, but you may yet ease my bereavement- I am am saddened by the loss of my friend, but it's the lateness of the news that worries me. You say you spend all day learning the secrets of the Seireitei, and that you greatly desire Shiny Jingle-jangle bells?

A-so! A-so! Mun-Yin bobbed excitedly, hopping onto The Prince's hand. All over, all over from the high pillars of the execution grounds to the lowest grates where the sewers open up, we fly all over all over My Wife and I! And we see and we hear and we remember all the secrets of the city!

A-stow? A-Stow? You poses yet more shiny shiny bells? Hau-Yin clicked with interest, hopping onto his knee.

I happen to have two such golden bells, even bigger and louder than these, and will happily give them to you- with a Doll's shiny ribbon so you may wear them if you so desire- and other shiny and noisy things as I find them, if you tell to me all the secrets of the Seireitei.

Hmmm... the ravens considered.

A-yo, A-yo- It is a good deal. Nodded Mun-Yin. -But sometimes the winter is cold or the pickings are lean, and there is only so much comfort a shiny jingle-jangle brings when it is so.

A-yo, A-yo- Agreed Hau-Yin. Maybe sometimes a secret is worth a night out of the storm or a scrap of meat instead?

You are both very wise. The Prince Kenpachi nodded and the ravens preened with the praise. I am amenable- The ribbon-bells for all the secrets you know right now, and we can work out what payment is best in the future, when you discover more secrets for me?

A-Yo! A-Yo! crowed Mun-Yin, flapping with excitement. Your Highness is as generous as he is wise!

More, I hope! Laughed The Prince Kenpachi. I promise, I am a colossal fool!

A-Yo! A-Yo! crowed Hau-Yin What secrets would you like to know first? And may I have a Pink Ribbon?

I would like to know all you know about- hm, that's a tricky question actually.- There are so many things I wish to know! He considered, rubbing his chin, then jumped to his feet, making them hop, an Ancient Bird Game. Let me go get your ribbon-bells first, and make up my mind!

A-ho! A-ho! the Ravens laughed, hopping down the hall after him.

---

"Hey Boss, I found the payroll forms but fuck me if I can make heads or tails of- what's wrong?" Ikkaku called out as he came into the courtyard half an hour later, only to find Yumichika standing in the doorway, frowning pensively with his hand over his mouth.

"I'm not sure anything is wrong, per se-" Sighed Yumichika, waving at the scene before him.

Zaraki was seated on one of the boulders in the courtyard, delicately fastening one of Yachiru's shiny pink hair ribbons around the neck of an exceptionally smug-looking raven in an elaborate bow with a large golden bell in the middle. A similarly adorned Raven perched upon his shoulder, chattering excitedly between fondly preening where his eyepatch parted his hair.

"-but I can't help but think I've seen this scene before..." Yumichika muttered.

"They look like they're all having fun?" Ikkaku shrugged as Zaraki finished the bow and the raven ruffled her feathers into place, making it jangle and Yachiru giggle and applaud from where she sat on her father's knee. The Newly-belled raven hopped around to croak and click at him as well, flapping excitedly, and he put a hand up to stop her, asking her something in the shrill hiss and click of his native Aquiline tongue.

"You ever get the impression The Boss is way more articulate in Eagle than he is in Japanese?" Ikkaku frowned.

"Darling, he learned his Japanese from Bandits and Buskers and in Brothels, his Eagle has GOT to be better than that." Yumichika rolled his eyes.

"-ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Zaraki suddenly bellowed, shaking his finger at the raven in his lap.

Both ravens cawed in objection.

"-THIS IS NOT UP FOR NEGOTIATION! SO LONG AS YOU TWO LIVE UNDER MY ROOF, YOU LEAVE KANAME AND HIS EYEBALLS ALONE." he growled.

The Raven on his shoulder tipped her head, speculating.

"-He is TOO using them, they're there to keep his eye sockets and brain from getting infected with gods-know-what flesh-eating bacteria or whatever. NO. PECKING."

Both Ravens hunched up their wings and turned away, pouting.

"What's-His-Ass in the Fifth? The faintly greasy one that looks like a sad mop? His glasses are fair game, if it will amuse you." Zaraki relented, and both birds perked up. "-Might be worth a bag of potato chips if you can bring me a pair intact." he offered.

"Oh Gods, he's not gonna make me try to add a pair of BIRDS to the payroll, is he?" Whimpered Ikkaku.

[dira333]

Bakugo x Reader, 6 parts, Timeskip AU

Not everyone is born with a Soulmark. But even if you are, it doesn't make things easier.

Warnings: None, Angst to Fluff.

Chapters are going to be posted daily - Masterlist

Part 5

“Thanks for coming, Dad.” Katsuki closes the door behind Masaru, makes sure to double-lock it. He doesn’t want visitors right now.

“You don’t look good, boy. Are you eating enough?”

Instead of answering, he pulls his father into an embrace, fighting against the tears threatening to spill. When was the last time his father was taller than him, sturdier than him?

Masaru rubs a soothing hand over his back.

“It’s okay, son. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he manages to get out. “It’s really not.”

“Wanna tell me about it?” Masaru takes the Couch, pats the space next to him. “Come on, I’ll listen.”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning, of course.”

Slowly, still a little unsure, he settles next to him, lets his head fall back against the headrest. His Dad’s shoulder is there, on his left side, like a pillar holding him up.

“Do you remember when I told you about the Fake Soulmate?”

“The one that happened to your friend with the red-white-hair?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I remember. What about that?”

“I never told you what came out of all of it, did I?”

Masaru hums in quiet acknowledgement, listens patiently as Katsuki unfolds the drama of it all like the world’s worst present.

“And now you’re scared.” Masaru comments when he has finished, last nights events still heavy on his tongue.

“I’m not sc-”

“Yes, you are.” Warm, sweaty hands fold around his and squeeze. “And it’s okay to be scared.”

Katsuki huffs. “I’m a Pro Hero.”

“This is different. You know that.”

He sighs, long and drawn out, before he turns to look at his father. 

“I didn’t tell you one thing,” he admits, still a little shaken by it. “The doctor couldn’t prove it, but he thinks the pain in my chest could have come from my Soulmate rejecting the bond.”

Masaru’s eyebrows furrow like angry caterpillars. Cold dread spreads over Katsuki’s shoulders.

“You’ve found them,” he guesses. “That’s why Mom blew up my phone yesterday. That’s it, isn’t it? You met them and now they know and they’re rejecting me before they’ve even met me.”

“No, Katsuki, that’s not it. I admit, your mother thinks she spotted the Mark yesterday, but how long has it been since she’s last seen it? I didn’t get a good look of it, to be honest and I asked your mother not to interfere. I did think she understood where I was coming from. And I told the girl the same thing. She didn’t want to know, actually. Put her hand on Mitsuki’s mouth to stop her from talking.”

“Wow,” Katsuki chuckles. “That takes guts. But… her name-”

“Don’t.” Masaru shakes his head. “Don’t ask me for it. That’s not who you are. If you want to meet them, find out for yourselves if there’s something there, just come visit us at work more often. I’ll make sure to shut off the A.C. so everyone’s running around with less clothes on.”

Katsuki’s half through a chuckle when it hits him. At work. His father said “at work”.

You’re working for him. You’re working with him, too, because you saw the Pictures he has on his table. Could it be?

“What if-” He hesitates. “What if the girl I’m interested in is my Soulmate? But she’s into Izuku?”

“How will you know if you don’t ask?”

“I can’t just ask her,” Katsuki glares at him. Why doesn’t he understand? “We’re having a good thing going on. If I ask her and she realizes I’m into her but she’s not my Soulmate nor shares the feeling, she’d probably move out. And you know what a hassle it is to get a roommate I don’t want to kill on their first day.”

“What if you ask her and she is your Soulmate?”

“What if she’s my Soulmate and she’s into Izuku?”

Masaru’s face softens. “Izuku has the uncanny ability to be liked by all, but that doesn’t mean everyone loves him too, does it?”

His words feel like a punch in the gut and Katsuki involuntarily sucks in a breath of air, trying to gather himself. 

“Look,” Masaru puts his hand on his shoulder, rubs the tight muscle there. “You’re brave. You’re smart. You’re confident. Even if you get stuck in the same situation as Izuku, bound to a Soulmate who’s not yet sure if she loves you, you’ll go about it differently. Because you’re Katsuki Bakugo. You’re not afraid to break something if it means building something else.”

Katsuki groans. “That’s a stupid pep talk.”

“Maybe. But it’s the truth. I’m going to leave now, because your Mother will surely wonder where I’ve gone to in the middle of the morning. You know what you have to do. You just have to be brave enough to do it.”

- x -

“Katsuki?” You pick up the Call, heart already racing. He’s never called you at work before and you’re just glad that you took Lunch a little earlier, now left alone in the spacious Open Office without anyone listening in.

“Hey.” His voice sounds rough, but not worse than it did in the morning. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“So…” He falls quiet for a second and you check if the Call’s still connected. “I have a friend.”

“Uhuh?”

“Well, this friend has had a rough childhood, so he’s not the best at emoting, but he’s found a girl he likes and that likes him back. In Highschool, too. Highschool Sweetheart, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, they graduate, move in with each other, all that jazz, until his Soulmark gets leaked on Public Television. He’s not bad looking, I assume, because soon, People all over the Country claim to be his Soulmate. The girl he’s with definitely isn’t, but they’re happy, you know.”

“Oh no.” You already know where this is going. 

“Yeah.” Another heavy pause.

“Well, one Girl is so convincing, he leaves his girlfriend for her. Because that’s his Soulmate, right? Well, turns out, three months into their relationship, that she’s not. It’s a very convincing tattoo, if anything, and she’s definitely mentally unstable. But hey, he thinks, he can still go back to his girlfriend, right? The one he still loves, who still loves him?”

“She found her own Soulmate, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s a friend of the couple, actually. His Soulmate got destroyed in an accident, but there are pictures of it and it’s clear as day that they’re Soulmates. So now whe have three people who’re not sure how to deal with this. Do the actual Soulmates date even though they never thought about each other like that before? Or do the two people date that have feelings for each other until maybe, one day, they fall in love with their actual Soulmates? It’s a mess, really.”

“So, your friend-” You wonder if he’s taking about himself. He can’t, really. His Soulmark never got leaked. You don’t remember anything glaringly public about the other people from the Mario Kart Tournament either, besides Izuku, who’s Soulmark- Who’s Soulmark got destroyed. Oh. Oh.

“I just talked to him. He’s seeing someone at the moment. It’s still pretty fresh. She doesn’t have a Soulmark.” 

“What about you?” You ask, biting into the side of your thumb.

Katsuki falls quiet again.

“What about you?” He asks instead.

You swallow thickly. Do you tell him? About his parents and your mark and his brother and-

“Ah, there you are!” You flinch at the loud noise, turning. Bakugo Mitsuki’s marching through the Office, her eyes set on you.

“I’ll call you back later, okay?!” You rush out, heart racing for a whole different reason, fumbling to hang up. “Yes, Bakugo-san?”

“We’re in the middle of a Photoshoot and the Jewelry we got is wrong. Could you race over to Ace.3 and get the correct set? It’s just a few blocks down, the location on Fifth Street. They know someone’s coming.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You’re almost shaking as you grab your things. “Do I take an Uber or the Metro? I’ve never been there before.”

“Take the Metro. Traffic is usually slammed at this time of the day.” 

She hands you a folder. “Everything you need is in there. Don’t lose the Company Credit Card. Oh…” She turns back around. “You should really rethink your opinion on this Soulmate thing.”

“Thank you.” You bite out. “But not right now.”

She huffs, clearly annoyed by the answer. “Whatever. I’ll be coming back to it.”

- x -

Katsuki’s glaring at the wall of his office, trying not to melt the phone in his hand with some well aimed explosions. Why does his mother always have the worst timing?

His phone pings with an incoming message.

“I’m on public transport now, so I don’t feel comfortable talking on the phone, but can we talk about this tonight? There’s something I want to tell you.”

His heart lurches into a sprint but he manages to calm down with the breathing technique Best Jeanist taught him all those years ago.

Tonight. He can wait until tonight.

Still. Time has never moved so slowly.

“Hey,” Kirishima appears in the open door to his office. “I’m going on patrol. Do you want to join me?”

“Yeah, why not.” He pushes himself out of his chair. At least that will give him something else to think about. “What district are we doing today?”

“Inner City. You know those fancy stores in fifth and sixth street? It’s never wrong to let the bad guys know we have an eye on it.”

Katsuki agrees quietly, slipping into his outfit. It’s been quite some time since he’s had to properly fight someone. Has it really been a month already since that knife accident?

-

He can smell all the way down to sixth street as they get out of the car.

“Fire?” He asks, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

“Probably.” Kirishima adds, moving through all the channels on his radio. The last one mentions the attack.

“Ace.3, Fifth Street, a group of three or four assailants. They are all armed as well as Quirk Users,” Kirishima rattles off as they jog down the street, waving fleeing pedestrians to the side.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary, really. Robberies, especially with a High End Jeweller like Ace.3 still offer good money if you’re in and out fast enough.

They catch the first one of the group at the door. One of the store clerks is clutching her leg, her face ashen.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Katsuki breathes into her ear, using Kirishima as a living shield while he does his best to stop the bleeding. He’s just about ready to drag her out of the store when RealSteel pounds through the door, his partner Phantom Thief right on his heels. 

“You take her,” he tells RealSteel. “Get her out of here. There are three more stories and the basement.”

“I’ll take care of it downstairs,” Phantom Thief offers, grinning. “Care to lend me a hand?” His outstretched hand is more like a taunt than a plea but Katsuki grabs it nonetheless. Monoma’s a good fighter when he wants to be, even if he’s still an asshole most of the time.

It makes more sense that the bigger fish are going to be downstairs, but something, whatever it is, is urging Katsuki to check upstairs.

“You two, downstairs,” he tells Kirishima and Monoma. “Be careful. I’ll check upstairs and follow you. RealSteel should follow you down as well.”

“Are you sure?” Kirishima asks.

“Do I look unsure?” He barks back, already taking two steps at a time.

-

It’s like stepping into a dream.

Flakes of Ash are flowing through the air like snowflakes. Upturned tables and chairs make it hard to navigate the room, but he’s on it, moving through the Chaos.

Katsuki spots a leg first, lifts the desk you must have tried to hide under.

Your face is covered in soot, your features barely recognizable. But he knows you. Even without all those dreams, he knows you. You’re his Soulmate. Always have been, always will be.

He sinks to his knees at your side. “Wake up,” he begs you, his heart hammering in his throat. “Wake up.” 

But as he moves to cradle your head, his hands go straight through it and the illusion vanishes.

He freezes, heart in his throat.

“Katsuki?” Your voice is raspy, a little breathless. “Is that you?”

“Where are you?” He turns, tries to spot you in the chaos. 

“In the corner. Be careful.”

He moves through the mess, not sure what he’s supposed to be careful about.

But there you are, pinned to the floor by a heavy desk, your face a grimace of pain.

“Hey,” he lifts it carefully, pushes it to the side as best he can. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Harharhar,” You laugh humorlessly, pain audible in your voice. “Your mom’s going to kill me.”

“For what? Surviving a robbery?”

“I already got the jewelry she asked for but I lost it.”

“You lost-” He snorts through his nose, disbelief covering every word. “Do you really think that’s important right now?”

“Isn’t it?” You cough again. “There are four of them. Did you get them all? One of them followed me up here to get my stuff as well. I don’t know if they’re still arou-” You shriek, just in time to alert him. He whirls around, one grenadecovered arm pulled up as a shield - the bullets ricochet off it and sink into the walls around. 

The attacker is a guy with yellowed fangs and papery skin. He’s breathing harshly. 

“Knew she wasn’t dead yet,” he all but purrs, a sound so strangely wrong coming from him. “Now give me the real stuff and nobody gets hurt.”

“Drop the weapon and you’ll at least get out of here alive,” Katsuki snarls back, eyes moving through the room. The guy’s got a tail, which could mean he’s got a similar Quirk to Ojiro. But the teeth could also mean something poisonous. It’s all about the movements, too, though the guy won’t move.

In the end, that’s what brings him down. Arms of steel curl around his gangly body, lifting him up from the floor. 

“You’re coming with me!” RealSteel declares, crushing the gun in one hand. “You good, Dynamight?”

“Just peachy,” he snarls back, a little pissed that he didn’t get to fight. But he’s got better things to do anyway.

“The real stuff?” He asks, carefully lifting you off the ground. 

You smile through the pain. “I might not be your mother’s best employe, but I’m pretty good at imitation.”

He tries to snort, the sound catching halfway in his throat when his hand comes back wet from your shoulder.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It looks worse than it is,” you tell him, but he shakes his head, his heart hammering like a humming bird. 

“Let me see.”

“No, it’s- it’s right above my Soulmark.”

Katsuki stills, your body in his arms, his heart in your hands.

“Listen-” His voice sounds harsher than it should, given the occasion. “I already know you’re my Soulmate. Just let me check your shoulder before you bleed out on me… Please.” He adds, because he can be polite when he wants to.

You let out something that sounds like a sob but you lean forward, allow him access to the area.

It really is just a nasty cut, slicing off one corner of the Mark. And even though he didn’t need to check after today, the sight of it still blows him away.

It’s there. Visible, touchable proof. You’re his. If you want to, that is.

-

He’s never hated Protocol more than today.

Because he needs to stay behind for Questioning and Paperwork, unable to see you off properly. Your cut has been treated by the paramedics that arrived on the scene and if there are worse injuries he’ll only find out later, when he gets to talk to you in the privacy of his, your home.

“You okay?” Kirishima walks over to where he’s standing, teeth grinding as he waits.

“Just peachy.”

“Listen, I know you hate when other teams get all the fight but-”

“She’s my Soulmate,” he blurts out, maybe a little too loud because a few people turn their heads. He glares until they turn back around.

Kirishima grins. “I knew it,” he says, sounding just a tad bit smug. “Didn’t I? I knew it.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be so happy about it,” Katsuki argues, the old fear griping for his heart. “I think she’s into Izuku.”

“Into Izu-” Kirishima laughs. “What in the world makes you think that?”

“Well there’s that one moment when they were in the kitchen-”

Kirishima’s shaking his head. “Look, I’m not a girl. You’re not a girl. We can and will misunderstand what they mean. But if Mina tells me that your roommate is head over heels in love with you, I do believe her. After all, has Mina ever been wrong?”

“She can’t always be right.”

“It’s Mina,” Kirishima grins. “She might as well.”

- x -

“Hey!” You greet him from the Couch when he steps through the door, a cup of tea in your hand. 

“Hey,” he drops his bag right at the door, kicks his shoes off and waltzes over, completely un-Katsuki-like. “How are you? Any more injuries? Did they give you a proper check-up? Tell me you went home right after!”

“Relax,” you laugh, cringing when it hurts. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” You put the tea away, sit up a little straighter.

“I’ve got a fractured rib from the Desk falling on me and should take it easy the next few weeks. I can work but your Dad asked me to go through Trauma Counselling, just in case. I did come home right after delivering the jewelry, so I hope you’re happy.”

“This isn’t about me being happy,” he snarls.

“I know, I know. But…” You look away, suddenly feeling awkward. “You said… You said you knew I was your Soulmate. How?”

All tension leaves him with one single breath. He all but falls into the cushions.

“I… I used to get really vivid dreams. Always the same scenario, me walking into that room, the ash flying around, you pinned under that desk. I never recognized your face but that moment was pretty self-explanatory.”

“Oh.” You swallow harshly. “But you… But you had a hunch, right? That’s why you were trying to talk about it earlier. On the phone, I mean?”

“Yeah, kind off.” He’s staring into the distance now. “I just… I have feelings for you. And I wanted you to know. Because maybe you don’t. Have feelings for me, I mean. Which is fine, you know, it doesn’t have to be. I told you, my friends-”

“I do have feelings for you,” you declare boldly, putting a hand on his knee. Katsuki stiffens, his face now almost as red as a fire-engine.

“But you asked Izuku about his Soulmate…”

“Yeah, because your Mom said that he’s my Soulmate. Well, she didn’t say it, but it sounded like-”

“What the hell?” Katsuki’s brows are furrowed that way again and you fear for his head. “Why would she say that? She knows my Soulmark and nosy as she is, she probably already knows that he’s found his Soulmate.”

“Yeah, but I heard her say to your Dad ‘This is about your son!’ so I figured she was talking about Izuku!”

Katsuki looks almost catatonic now.

“Why?” He asks, teeth grinding. “Would you think that… Izuku… is my Dad’s son?”

“Because he…” You’re waving your hand’s around as if that would help you. “Well, he said… he said something that sounded like… Isn’t he your half-brother?”

“No,” his voice is deathly silent now. “You thought Izuku was your Soulmate? Why not me?”

Oh. Well. 

“I didn’t want to assume,” you whisper, ashamed of your own reasoning. “Because you’re you and I didn’t want to be greedy.”

“I thought you were into him,” Katsuki whispers back, cradling your head in his hands. “Do you know how much I worried about this?”

“That panic attack!” Your heart drops at the realization. “You felt when I tried to reject the bond!”

“Why would you even do that?” Katsuki cries. 

“Because I wanted you,” you blurt out, a little less ashamed of that truth now that all the others are out in the open. “Not some Soulmate. Not Izuku. I just… I just wanted you.”

His head sinks forward, his temple pressed against yours.

“Never do that again,” he begs, his hands shaken where they’re holding you. “Promise.”

“Promise,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. 

-

You wake up with Katsuki’s arm slung around your shoulders, your back pressed against his chest. He runs hot and he snores a little, like a kitten.

Nonetheless your rib hurts from lying on the side and you need to pee, so you move to untangle yourself from him.

“What?!” He rasps immediately, his lips pressed against your ear.

“I need to pee.”

“Tough luck, keep it in.”

“I’m going to piss in your bed,” you threaten and he lifts his arm. 

“If you’re not back here in five minutes I’m coming to get you.”

You snort at the threat and slip out of bed, down the hallway and into the bathroom.

A part of you wants to grab your phone and text Ami. Truth be told you have quite a lot to tell her. But the rest of you just want to slip back into bed and cuddle into this human space heater that you can now call yours. After you’ve gotten a sip of water, that is.

“Five minutes are over,” Katsuki growls, leaning shirtless and heavy against the doorframe. “You’ve got five seconds.”

“Here,” you press the glass of cool water against his lips. “Don’t be grouchy.”

“‘m not grouchy,” he defends himself, pulling you in. “I just want to sleep.”

“Grouchy,” you repeat, kissing his cheek. “You’re lucky I like that.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” he responds, slipping back into bed.

“Can’t sleep on my side,” you remind him when he turns to spoon you.

“Oh,” he huffs for a moment before turning on his back. It’s hard to tell in the dark but you think he’s blushing. “You want to sleep on my chest?”

“Well, if you’re asking…” You can tell that he’s flustered the second you rest your head, the thunder of his racing heart now directly below your ear.

“I’m here,” you remind him, rubbing a hand over it. “I’m here.”

“I’m not worried,” he says and you spot the lie from a mile away.

“I know.”

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Your Knight

-screaming in writing nov- 4k omg we going guys! Anyway here is a fic based on @/jackthepeeper's amazing art of richard ft his other form -feral sounds- LETS GOOOOOO

art links: one, two, three, final (nsft)

Edit Rating: Explicit | Warning: fauxcest (ty anon and sorry about tht), monster x human, power bottom!reader

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Richard greets you with a bow as you walk down the stairs in your night robe and yawn. “Rest well?”

You raise an eyebrow at him as he knows you slept late because of him. He and his insatiable needs that left you touching yourself in your room, the wall is the cruelest barrier between him and you. He has taken to sneaking his way over from his balcony to yours, an experienced jump over a small distance and he is on your balcony, the glass door slightly ajar for him.

Every night, Richard slips into his princess' room to be in her bed, to have you gripping the sheets and biting into your pillow so you do not make a sound— The servants know the unruly adopted children of the Sterlings are not so sibling-like. They have never been since Richard Sterling became part of this family.

Your daily recording of your days with your brother, as they told you to address the stranger, is written in your diary. Each strange thing you noticed was documented, you kept a close eye on him.

“Good morning, dear brother.” Waving him away once you reached the bottom of the stairs, “Are mother and father home?” Another yawn and this time you followed it up with a stretch. Richard's eyes go from head to toe taking in your body, the slight bounce of your breasts as you relax and groan in minor discomfort.

“No, they left for a holiday an hour ago.” He leans on the stair banister, “France this time, sister” A growing mischievous smirk on his pretty lips.

“Figures.” You shrug, “A bit of trouble and they go into hiding and leave us.” This is not the first time they left to let things simmer down but in doing so as you both got older, responsibilities fell onto you— Well, Richard as he is the boy here, but you do the work as you know well how to talk down the investors and gossiping ladies. “Must be bad if they are going to France…” Thinking out loud as you fold your arms over your chest and your finger tapping your chin.

“Fret not, princess!” Going over to you and taking your hand, “Let us use it as time for us to enjoy our freedom.” Kissing your knuckles.

You sigh, “I suppose that is all we can do.” Going to pull your hand away but he pulls you into his arms causing you to gasp as you nearly trip onto him. “Richard!” About to scold him for his actions.

“I smell us on you.” His nose is buried in the crook of your neck.

“Of course you do, your damn cum was still dripping down my legs this morning!” Whispering your words for maids and butlers not to overhear an intimate conversation. “Don't you be proud of yourself! I told you not to cum inside of me.”

“My deepest apologies,” You cover your mouth as he backs you against a wall, “Shall I clean my mess?” His hand tugged on the silk string of your robe.

You do not get a chance to speak as you push him off when one of the maids comes out of the door beside the wall, a cart of cleaning supplies before she can see what you both are doing. “Make sure you have a copy of our father's scheduled clients ready by brunch, brother.”

Oh, you are very cross with him if you are using that annoying title that holds no weight between you both.

It is a joke! This game of playing house when you both are not close nor related.

You look nothing like your adopted parents, a stolen child because they wanted a cute little girl to dress up.

Richard, who does favor their late son, though the mismatched eyes are different.

A fucked up family, you hate them yet you love Richard. He protects you… He is true to his oath to you as your knight.

A shapeshifter, from what the book said about them, usually are witches or limited to only turning into creatures. Yet, here is Richard posing as a replacement. You have long since given up trying to get rid of him as you feared he would eat your parents— He will when the time is right— But you have your hatred. Hatred for being stolen away, for your kidnappers to force your real parents to never send you letters, and for having Richard at first keep you on a leash with him.

You walk to the dining room as you are in a foul mood, there is work to be done, and Richard needs to focus on other responsibilities and not being at your feet like a dog. However, you do find comfort in his changed desire for you after he shows you how beneficial it is to be his princess. You are unsure where that idea came from but he was right… The clever creature knew you were smart enough to do your research on him, close to finding a way to kill him, you were doing it for yourself in fear.

The first order of the day is breakfast, return to your room to bathe last night you properly, get dressed in something comfortable and nice for outside brunch treats and then see about taking a nap before evening tea.

The first and second day you allow yourself a chance to relax, the quietness of the house a comfort… And Richard not having to sneak his way into your room is a bonus.

When you are in a very foul mood, you have Richard take you to your kidnappers’ bed for long hours as a twisted form of retaliation (he is all too pleased to give you a long night of heavy passion). Of course, the butler cleans the sheets after.

Breakfast is light, mostly fruits and freshly baked bread with butter.

Next, take a bath and you drag it out until your fingers are nearly pruned. Richard, damn him, the bite marks are not noticeable but there are so many! His fascination with your breasts and thighs was getting the worst of it.

Next, you go through your closet.

A blue dress? No. Pink? No, the season is fall. Oh, red is lovely. No, you aren't in the mood to look too fancy. Your eyes then drift to another dress you touch with great care. Richard bought you this after posing as you to see your parents in secret. Mother, your real mother, picked this out for you. Richard had bought it without your mother knowing the money she gave him wasn't enough. The money was used to pay off the debt at the local store that was kind enough to let your parents use credit, they always paid as much as possible at the end of the month before the next month's rent.

This is a dress you find pretty and you will wear it when the Sterlings fall at your feet.

You choose the blue dress.

The gardens are well known to you for three reasons.

Tea time, hiding, and now Richard.

Looking at him while reading some of the paperwork he found left behind by the shared father. There are two sets of schedules he keeps, one for public clients and one for private clients.

Private clients’ schedule list was taken with him to France meaning business will go on as usual but not in England. So it seems the holiday is a business trip.

Your eyes are taking in the sight of your knight's body, the style of clothing he has not changed much from during the shared childhood here.

You try not to think about how many childhoods this creature has had over the years of its life, shapeshifters are an odd bunch with little information about them due to being masters of deception.

“Do you truly love me, knight?” You had not meant to say it out loud while leaning your arm on the table and using your hand to hold your face up, “Will you not eat me when the time comes to move on?” Your eyes are not on his face, you rather listen to lies of comfort right now.

“Of course, not, princess.” You wonder if he truly can experience love or grief, maybe he mimics it like he does with faces. “I am bound by my oath to you, I will protect and adore you, your highness.”

You hum as your other hand traces the rim of your teacup with mild interest, “Would you kill for me?”

“Yes, of course, I will.” No hesitation as he has killed for you in order to keep you safe, he will not fail you. Such loyalty, fierce and unwavering, has you question him; nothing in life is free.

“Hmm,” Looking out to the garden, a quiet morning with singing birds and the warm glow of the sun, and the beautiful creature who dares to appear concerned for you. “Richard.”

“Yes, my princess?”

“Strip for me.”

That must have eased him as he moved from standing by your side to sitting on the chair to have your view of the bushes cut off by him.

“Shall I give you a show, my princess?”

You look at him with a coy smile, “Of course. Slowly.”

He has done this before, and many times this has caught your attention. First opening his legs to give a full view of what you soon will be revealed, oh you know well what is underneath those clothes— You bite down on the corner of your lips as he removes his vest placing it on the clear side of the table. Smoothly with practiced skill, he slips out of the chair posing playfully as a gentle breeze blows the petals of flowers past him.

You can't help but laugh at how dramatic that looked.

Next, he unbuttons his shirt, eyes locked on you, he leaves it open as he slips off the sash, the sound fabric slipping off and you lean back in the chair as he tosses it to you and you catch it.

When he sits back down with a smirk on his face as sees you shift in your seat, next are his trousers and calf-high boots. His bare hand slides up his chest as he lets out an exaggerated moan, “Princess, shall I take you here?” When he stands leaning on the table to let his shirt slip off his shoulder, you reach out your hand for him to take and kiss the back of your hand. You grin as you get up and walk around the small tea table over to him, he stands at attention, “Shirt.”

Letting go of your hand, he turns around and one sleeve falls off his arm then another, Richard looking behind him when your hand touches the center of his back. “Princess.”

“Now you are going to be a good knight and go to my room,” Kissing his shoulder, “You are to be ready for me once I finish my tea.”

“Like this?”

“Just like this,” Your hand slid down his back then around to cup his hardening cock, “That is my order,” You want him to suffer a little, “Sir Richard.” Your other hand takes his shirt out of his hands as he shivers in delight.

“As you wish, Your Highness.” This is all part of the game.

You release him after giving him a good squeeze on his cock, the breathy moan of your name has you grinning. You are enjoying watching him walk away, he will have to find a creative way to get to your room without the servants finding him.

Then your expression goes neutral, “Agatha,” The old woman appears from behind the rose bushes.

“Yes, miss?” Agatha is the only maid, the head maid, you trust. She would help you sneak out to see your family before Richard came along. She is an old woman, who used to be a wet nurse too for the original children of the Sterlings before they went missing (a secret they were murdered).

You touch your heart, “I fear you were right about my heart.”

“Love is a powerful force, miss.” She says, “Shapeshifters are masters of drawing all types of emotions from us. It is in their nature.” The old woman had been the one to guard you as best she could from the strange man. Listening to you ramble about his behaviors and connecting him to the creature you read about from a book you bought from an oddities shop.

The truth did not get you killed, the truth got you loyalty in a house of wolves

“Did you find… What we discussed?”

“Yes, as well as I found a way to make it tasteless.”

“Good,” You sigh with a small smile on your face, “He will be my end, his hunger will kill me but my love for him will haunt him.” Looking up at your balcony, “Forever until death brings him to me.”

Agatha nods, “I pray your heart captures his before this happens, miss.”

You chuckle, “Of course.” Taking the teacup to finish it, “My thanks, Agatha. Please, take the day off if you wish.”

She bows as you gather Richard’s belongings and go inside to meet him in your room.

Though you do not enter your room immediately, you listen to him touching himself for a good minute or five through the door. Giddy as he sounds desperate for you.

The creek of your door opening didn't stop him from touching his cock, nor did the sound of his clothes dropping to the floor stop him from saying your name, but he did stop to watch you remove your dress.

Only your dress.

Oh, the gem he found in this place is dazzling. What fools they are to always leave him alone with you, it is their fault the precious daughter found love in her brother. Richard is going to laugh in their faces when he devours them!

The consequences they reap are a product of their foolishness and greed, parents are so easy to manipulate to care for the parasite they willingly adopted.

Richard is quite happy here as he found his golden ticket, he enjoyed being given a life of luxury before killing his adopted parents. Richard, the current name he is using, found shaping himself to appear similar to a missing or dead child of a family, getting him targets faster.

He is enjoying the benefits of riches until they run out, then he will destroy everything to cover his tracks before starting all over again. A perfect cycle.

“Come now, princess,” His plan however has a minor complication, though he likes surprises, “Enough teasing,” There is always the chance of a clever human seeing past his facade, “Making your knight strip all the way…” On the bed on full display for his princess to see. This is your bedroom, your sanctuary, he knows this room like the back of his hand. “It's your turn.” Begging to be granted the affection of one moral he found himself attached to.

Crawling on the bed has him twitching, you are so beautiful and deadly as a lioness.

You shake your head, “Not yet,” Kissing his cheek, “I want you to show me your devotion.” Your hand wanders his defined chest. “Do this for your princess.”

He groans as the hand on his already hard, pre cum dripping, cock starts moving at a slow pace. He wraps his arm around you as you push him against the headboards of your bed, a sharp intake of air when you bite his nipple before licking it to soothe it.

“How cruel you are, my— Agh!” You stop him mid-sentence by biting his neck, a good hard bite on the spot that makes him feel claimed. “Princess.”

“Richard, faster. Move your hand the way I do.”

“But,” If he does then he won't last long and he rather cum within the princess of his desire, “Please.” Richard knows he can simply talk his way between your legs, taste you until your mind is fuzzy, and then give you his cock. To live the fantasy of breeding a human to make more like him, to keep you forever in this fairytale illusion; you are his to keep like a dragon with his hoard.

“Is my knight denying me what I desire of him,” Words whispered into his ear, “Is my order too much for him?” Your hand goes down his naval, fingers brushing against his tamed bush of hair, his cock twitching as your fingers slide over his fingers and cock.

“N-not ah all! An-Anything you wish of me is ah yours.” Long ago he would not give you this power over him, his vice of control demanded you to behave how he saw a princess. As time went on, he found you far more willing to betray your adopted parents (both parents could not have more children and they wanted a daughter); where he enjoyed the caged benefits, you wanted freedom from those who stole you from your parents.

“Good boy.” Licking the shell of his ear before biting it, “You are so beautiful.” You moan, “Part your legs a bit wider.” He nods as he loses himself to the very drug he used on you, lust. You hush his whine when your hand moves away, then he groans when you sit on his thigh so he can feel how wet you are, “Richard.” Moaning his name as you rock your hips to grind yourself on his thigh. His eyes lock onto the sight of you, the underlings are damningly blocking his view yet adds to the scene. Your breasts bubbling over the corset you are wearing, your petticoat skirt spread out over his leg, your hands on his shoulders as leverage.

“(Name),” He wants to rip everything off of you and sink himself deep within your quim already! “Princess, please.”

“Not yet,” You say between moans, “Let me see you fall apart.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, the hand around your waist grabs your ass through the underskirt, his growling as you kiss him. You open your mouth allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

The shared taste of sweets from brunch is because your knight can never say no to an opportunity to make you smile.

Anything for his princess.

His hand goes behind your head, fingers in your hair before a sharp grip, he always wants more, always more— Devour you whole so you may never part from him. You try pushing him back to breathe but he is relentless in kissing you. Richard only pulls away to bury his face in your breast as he cums all over his hand and stomach. The tremble of his body, sharp rip of fabric as the hand on your ass grows out his claws, you hiss as his fangs bite into the top of one of your breasts; you pump his cock as he tried to stop himself from cumming too much by squeezing the base of his cock.

“Stop,” Growling his want, “I need to—”

“What you need to do is please your princess.” So close, you want to cum but you need him to stop holding back. Sharp gold and red eyes look up at you, you know he is fighting to retain his visual of Richard Sterling.

“Richard!” Pinning you down on the bed with your petticoat torn off and tossed away, “Ah!” Diving between your legs not caring as you pull his hair trying to gain your control back. Instead, your hands go to your pillow and sheets as he returns the favor with his tongue.

Longer, you can feel it deep with your cunt— He is losing his shape all because of you. There is pride in that.

Your thighs squeeze against your chest, feet curved and toes curling in your shoes, you cannot keep your voice down, “Richard, Richard, Richard!” Chanting his name over and over, your hair ruined from how much you have been tossing and turning.

Richard grins when he tastes your essence spill into his awaiting mouth, drinking you as if you are made of ambrosia, consuming you until you are whimpering his name. He is out of breath, “Allow me to be inside of you once more.” Sitting up as he keeps your legs pinned down thus you as well.

You nod your head quickly.

“Say it, confess it.”

“Richard,” You are a mess, a mess in love with this monster. His eyes are still mismatched with one is gold and the other red, his hair white with the tips red like fire, his skin paler, and you want him to consume you so you never part from him. “Take me, I need you, my beloved knight.”

And he does.

The shared moan of his cock sinking into your hot cunt, the way you have become home to him. You feel complete, he is your missing half the Gods divided and had you seek out. Romantically you both believe your hearts are in sync in this moment before the high of lust demands movements.

“I love you!” Said midst of you cumming as Richard is merciless, he let himself be consumed by desire, “Richard, more!” It will never be enough, you will never have enough of him, and that should make you hate the monster. 

A monster you can see the beauty of as your hands hold his shoulders, where some of his red scales are exposed. You have seen them a handful of times, mostly when he was shedding, you find them pretty like rubies.

“I love you, (Name).” The cruelest poison, it is as thick and sweet as honey, you swallow it without a second thought. Yet, the creature means it— Repeats it over and over as he changes positions to you lying on your side. One leg on the bed bent towards your chest and the other over his shoulder. One hand is on your leg while the other is rubbing your sensitive clit.

Both cumming again.

“My princess,” He groans as the position is changed again to you on all fours, hands gripping the top of your headboard, his hands on your waist as he fucks you from behind, “Just a bit more, hold on for me.” He isn't done yet as his stamina is a blessing and a curse in these moments.

The next position is one you begged for, the scene outside changing as the sun is now high in the sky, you do not want to stop. You want to keep going to forget everything painful and just stay in the illusion Richard created, be only the princess and her faithful knight.

“Richard, cum, please!” You are on his lap as he holds you, his mouth on your chest and hands on your ass to help you bounce on his cock. “I need it,” Drunk on sex makes it easier to expose parts of your yearning heart, “I want your bastard,” Sobbing as you are so close again, “You can't leave me. I won't let you.”

Richard stops you moving and pulls back to see his weeping princess, glowing from sex and her heart bare for him to see, “I will never abandon you.” He is serious as his hands touch your face as you choke out whimpers and shake your head, “My sweet princess.” Kissing your tears away, tears because though he can cum inside of you as many times as he wishes… Shapeshifters can't impregnate a human.

“I love you.” You want to believe him, he wants you to believe him.

“Show me,” Glossy eyes on his face, “Show me everything you are.” The highest form of trust to show the monster she once feared and now loves, a monster you have in your bed every night. Richard lays you down as he pulls out of you, kissing your hand as he wants you to see him completely. You place your hands over your stomach, your overused cunt leaking out the generous amount of cum he released inside of you, your eyes locked on him as sheds the final part of his false approach.

The face and body remain the same as he modeled himself into the persona of the dead son of the Sterlings, but you can see the differences between the creature and pictures of the dead son (the few that remain untouched by the knight). The decorative scales on his arms and parts of his chest, a tail that wraps your chest, and when he takes your hand to feel his cock— The barbs are different and you know it is going to be a very interesting sensation. The black tendrils leak the sticky substance of cum, there are others within the parted skin— The ungentle reminder you are bedding a monster— You find him to be the most fascinating thing in your life.

“You are the first to see this.” Groaning as you sit up and start exploring him with your mouth and hands, “Are you not—” Surprised at how you kiss him and eagerly explore him.

“Richard, if you ever think I would find you hideous, I will tie you to this bed and ride you.”

“Careful, princess, such a promise might not work in your favor.”

“I believe it will. After all, I know how to handle my knight's sword quite well.” Kissing his nose as he lets out groans as you make your point with his cock, the main tendril that has a barb-like base. “You are going to take me as if you can breed me, understand?”

“Of course, how beautiful you would be carrying our child.” A fantasy he can play into.

You appreciate him going slow but it makes the feeling of his size and barbs nearly too much, your nails scratching deep into his skin close to cutting it, he whispers the sweetest of praises and amazement at how well you are taking him. The idea of having him take you like this all the time is brought up though realistically he can't, the risk of being caught both as your brother and a monster would not end for either of you.

You cling to him desperately as the kiss shared between seals your fate to him as it did many years ago.

It is late afternoon now, Richard is awake with his fingers playing with your hair. His eyes looking up at the ceiling, you are sleeping on him sharing your warmth with him. His eyes will glance over at you from time to time, enjoying the peace sleep gives you; though his eyes would drift to your neck to where the fresh marks you will have to hide with a high collar.

The knight kisses your forehead before going back to thinking… The end will come soon.

Upon their return from holiday, these loving parents have arrangements to meet a matchmaker to marry you off. A young woman at your age is perfect and the family has already set their eyes on a young man from a family friend.

Richard met him once, he is an idiot. Perfect for them to use you to control the idiot. They believe they can simply ship you off, to take away the princess from her knight. You have no idea about this, Richard aims to keep it that way until the time is right.

Soon.

Soon you will be free and he will remain by your side until the end.

[edges-of-night]

Hello dear friend! I was waiting for your request to open. Can I request a reader who is openly flirty while writing letters but in person is a complete love struck fool (I love flirting with my gf over text but I will scream and cry happily if she holds my hand or if she kisses me I FOLD)

Thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you’ll enjoy your post!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn strikes me as someone who is not overly flirtatious. Maybe your letters have always been just a little too much for him. So in fact, he’s pleasantly surprised when he finds you’re not as forward in person! He has no problem with little displays of affection and would like you to grow more confident in your romantic desires.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would definitely tease you about the discrepancy of your letters with your actual reactions to displays of affection. Maybe she’d even spread rumours about you being some sort of amorist or adventurer! This is, of course, never malicious, and Arwen is very good at noticing your daily level of comfort when it comes to this. She makes no secret of it: she enjoys your cute blushes to no end!

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir fancies himself very suave, I think. But I feel like he would share the exact same situation with you, actually! His letters may be overtly flirtatious and even spicy as he tries to out-do your writings – but in person, Boromir is actually just as nervous and easily flustered as you. It takes him some time to admit it, but you both find comfort in your similarities.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond initially thinks there must be a mistake – some jester who writes spicy letters to him in your name. When he confronts you, his sweet and innocent partner, with this conspiracy, your face heats up – of course it’s been you! Needless to say, Elrond understands immediately once you explain the situation to him. He’d even laugh at how everything went down.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

To be honest, I feel like Éomer would be disappointed at first. After all, he thought he’d meet an outgoing social butterfly – which maybe you are – but not someone who covers their flushed face as soon as he’d play back some of the things you wrote in your letters, against a wall in Edoras. Even in the candlelight, he can make out your blush. However, after overcoming this initial disappointment he delights in your little interactions.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Éowyn would need more time than others to realise the difference between your letters and your real personality. She’d mirror your forward flirts and innuendos and not notice at all how incredibly flustered you’d get – not until someone would point it out to her. She’d apologise immediately and ask with what you’d be comfortable, because that is her end goal after all – to make you feel good ♡

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Poor Faramir would probably think something was wrong with him, or that you were disappointed by him in person. After all, why else wouldn’t you initiate any touches or flirtatious whispers, something that would be more in line with your letters? It’d take him some time to understand that you simply weren’t that kind of person. Needless to say, he’d happily take on the job of initiating affection himself!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Being the dreamy bookworm that he is, Frodo initially thinks that you two were essentially role-playing in your letters! It is only when you apologise to him for being so flustered and nervous when he takes your hand that he understands. He’ll just laugh and tell you he wasn’t as adventurous as the character in his letters either. “Why, we can be flustered together then, can’t we? I’d like that.”

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel, of course, cannot be fooled when it comes to your feelings. She is quite content with knowing only your thoughts, be it through letters or telepathy. That said, she likes to indulge in the occasional handholding, while always making sure you’re not pushed too far out of your comfort zone.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf wouldn’t buy into your letters in the first place. While he does find them amusing to read, he knows very well how you get in person with just as little as a kiss. He accepts you as you are and doesn’t push anything on you that makes you uncomfortable. He also makes you laugh quite a bit with the letters he sends back to you!

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Gimli finds your letters, no matter how spicy they actually were, quite scandalous – in a good way! He keeps them a well-kept secret, delighting every time you write him a few lines. He doesn’t see that big of a discrepancy between the characters of your letters and in person. He likes you as a whole. To him, it is fairly normal that one is more forward and suave when having hours to think of what to write, instead of a spontaneous display of affection.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir cannot help but feel a gust of gratification after realising just how easily flustered you’d get in person. He deems it payback for all those shameless letters you keep writing him! However, that also means the stony Elf has to get out of his comfort zone: If he really wants to embarrass you, he’ll have to initiate a kiss or two, sooner or later… How unfortunate (not)!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas would definitely approach your shy personality with “training” – meaning he would initiate many romantic gestures and little displays of affection, just so that you could get used to them and more comfortable in your relationship with him. He’d be mischievous but never cruel: “Why do you not try to go ahead and kiss me, dearest? There is no need to be shy with me!” He’d even guide your hands, your chin, etc. ♡

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Although Merry has very eagerly sent you just as flirty letters backs, he is pleasantly surprised to meet you in person and finding that you would blush and get flustered so easily. He’d explain it to you as almost having ‘two partners’ – a ‘two for one’ deal, so to speak! He’s immensely excited about this difference but always makes sure to keep it a secret between the two of you.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would grow ten feet tall (haha) once he learned how shy and lovestruck you were in person. Because of his playful character, he’d tease you while trying to make you more comfortable, à la: “I dare you to hold my hand right now! If you don’t, I’ll just take yours!” That said, Pippin would totally write back letters that are just as flirty and spicy as yours!

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam may be very shy himself, but he is absolutely charmed by your sweet blushes and cute whispers whenever he takes your hand or gives you a kiss. The man is just head over heels in love with you! Although he knows how you’ll react, it always takes him by surprise, and he’ll grin widely as you try to hide your blush.

[timeoveritasconsumofigmentum]

Yandere!Fisherman x F!Mermaid Reader Smut Alphabet:

Part 1 How he looks

Warnings: A Whole Lot Of Sexual Content. MDI.

[A/n: Decided to post some smutty head cannons of yandere!fisherman while I work on a new story, make sure to keep an eye out for that. :) Not proofread. ♡]

[NOTE: In this, once mermaid reader is plucked out of the ocean, she gains legs once her tail is dry like in the movie aquamarine. Low key got Stockholm syndrome lol. Enjoy.]

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A-(Arousal/what gets them in the mood): my god, your unfiltered curiosity about all the knickknacks and antiques that decorated the walls of his home. The sparkle in your eye, the excitement in your voice, the gentle grip you have on whatever you snatched from the shelve. It gets him so fucking hard. Will calmly explain to you what every single thing in your hand does while not so subtly pushing his growing bulge in the small of your back. Or seeing you in his clothing, obviously he didn’t prepare much when he decided to bring you to the surface. (Or keep you)So in order to keep your decency(not that he would ever mind if you waltz around the home nude) he lets you wear his softest sweaters. The knitted oversized material grazes the back of your calves, swallowing your body into the sea of fabric. Loves it cause it looks like the both of you actually a domestic couple. The idea of you as his wife, being able to take care of you in every way, living happily with 2 or 3 children that looked like a mixture of the both of you running around the home, filling it with laughter. The mere thought has blood rushing south, has to hide the growing tent in his pants as he gathers his daily catch.

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B (Blue balls/how do they react to stimulation denial):Knows he can’t push your limits. Isn’t going to force you into anything you don’t want to do. You’ve just been pulled(kidnapped) from your home into the land of the unknown! It’s completely understandable but. It’s so hard for him to see you snore softly in his bed. The small puddle of drool staining the fluffy pillow under your head, body curling into itself for warmth. If only you knew he imagined that pillow was you, folding in half and fucking into it like a teenager. Moaning your name softly as he came. Gave it to you with a big smile cheeks still warm from his session “this one is the softest.” Will sometimes be cheeky and let out a loud moan or two to pique your interest.

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C-(cum) listen. Listen. Listen. He’s a workaholic, so he’s usually overworks himself. Doesn’t really make time to masturbarte cause of the long hours on the sea, ergo passing out from exhaustion, meaning huge ass loads. I’m taking about puddles of cum coating his lower stomach and v line. He’s a bit pent up, what do you expect? Once you actually has sex well, enjoys decorating your body in ropes of his cum but enjoys it even more when he gets to plug you up with his cock fucking his cum further into you. Gets bashful at the amount that he releases but with you? Ha. He lives for the moment you squirt in his mouth, your hole spasming around his tongue as he slurps up all of your cum, downing it down like a man starved. You’ll have to yank his head up to get him to even breath, entangling your fingers in his damp curly hair to lift him out of his meal. A dazed smile on his glistening face, pupils blown up with lust.

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D-(dirty talk/ are they vocal in bed?) The man that’s usually so stoic and rude to others becomes pure putty in your hands. On softer days once you give him the green light, he worship your body. Showering you with compliments. “You’re so pretty sweetheart, doing so well for me.” Other days where he can’t help but to be mean, teasing you and your reactions. “Aw baby did you cum from me just rubbing your pretty pussy? I thought i told you I wanted to feel you cum on my dick, guess you had to be greedy hm?”

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E-(erogenous zones) He’s pretty sensitive on his back. Run nail on his spine and will shiver, goosebumps covering his skin. His thighs, will moan more when you’re giving him head and resting your hands on his thigh massaging the tight muscles. Loves when you leave scratches on his shoulder blades when he’s fucking you, like his own temporary tattoo.(Pouts when they start healing.)

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F-(fetish) Is into fear play. Sorry not sorry, but man literally stalked you for months. And unfortunately because of the way you two met, you did attempt to run back to the ocean more than once. (He would always catch you before you made it on the dock.) When you finally trust him and willing give his fantasies a try, likes to play into a scenario where you try to run away. Your stuttering heart beating echoing in his ears, the whines of pleasure as he manhandled your body. It gets him dizzy with lust.

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G-(giving/what they would do) He loves to make you feel good, it’s always your pleasure before his. You’re the love of his life of course he’s going to pamper you! Duh. From making out with your pussy, to sucking your stiff nipples, to softly biting into the meat of your thighs leaving blooming hickeys in their wake. He’ll always checks in to make sure you’re doing okay. Even if you aren’t in the mood, he’ll still make sure that you’re relaxed and blissful every night. Tenderly massages all the tension knots from your back, wrapping you in his large form holding you close. Even when you want time alone, will sleep in the living room like when you were adjusting.

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H-(hot and bothered/ how do you know when they’re turned on) Face and neck will start to turn pink, the stubble of his face doing very little to conceal the sudden flush. Attempts hide the obvious bulge in his trousers, trying to readjust by tucking his now hard dick into the waistband of his boxers. Voice will get deeper. Eyes will go half lidded. Yeah he’s thinking ‘bout fucking you.

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I-(initiate/how do they get things started) Cups your face gently, pressing his lips against yours. Simple kisses turn into making out, shifting into tossing each other clothes to the other side of the room. You hands grip his shoulders as he marks the column of your neck in hickeys. Dry humping for a bit until you guys shuck off your clothing and really get in to it.

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J-(jitters/how nervous do they get)He hasn’t had that many sexual partners, so sex was something relatively new to him. Was anxious to disappoint you but he quickly got the hang of it. Not gonna lie, he got more cocky overtime. Knowing your body like the back of his hand did things to his ego. Sometimes still get bashful but only when you paw at him for more.

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K-(kinks/ main kinks they enjoy) Has always wanted a big family since it was just him and his grandmother, so has a huge ass breeding kink. The thought of him being able to cum in your fertile womb has him feral. Just knowing he could knock you up. Is a bit adventurous so will be more than okay to have sex in public, folding your body on the warm sand. Unless you don’t that’s cool homie. Likes to tie you up, he didn’t learn all those different knots to not put them to use. Your whines about wanting to be able to touch him makes him feel even wanted.

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L-(location) He’s an old fashion lad, he ultimately adores to make love to you in bed. Wanting to make sure that he gets to touch every inch of skin. But he’s also a pent up horn dog. You could be in the kitchen attempting to make a meal, man will be on you in a second. Setting you down on the counter as he kisses you softly while his course hand rubs your pussy. Will fuck you on his boat in broad daylight, he cares but he doesn’t care.Your moans and the loud sound of your conjoined body releasing wet smacks through the area.

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M-(masturbation/do they do it? What do they think about?) like I said, baby boy doesn’t make enough time to release the tension coiling in his body. Watches you sleep, yeah he’s a creep like that. Rubs his bulge to your soft snore, staining his underwear with pre. Never goes too far, like to cum on your unsuspecting legs or pretty face, even though he wanted to on numerous occasions. Once you’re got there, the sexual appetite he usually ignored came rushing back to him the moment you set foot in his house. Fucks his fist, squeezing the tip of leaking dick pretending it was your softer smaller hands. Naturally he masturbates at least every night when he can’t be with you.

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N-(natural/ describe how they look without clothes) He’s not too hairy, burly arms and thick muscled legs held the usual amount of body hair. He may be a workaholic but he enjoys taking care of himself. His grandmother always told him that first appearances are everything, so makes a conscious effort to groom himself. Has a very prominent happy trail, the short hair beginning just at the bottom of his belly button. And yeah he trims his pubes, he’s a hygienic lad.

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O-(oral/ giving or receiving) He lives for pleasuring you. It was the only thing you would let him do for a couple of months so high-key got addicted to it. The breathy moans you released, the twitch of your thighs underneath his fingers, your sweet pussy oozing out cum. Could eat you out for hours, like I’m talking about jaw locking hours. As for receiving, well, the moment your hands wrap around his aching cock and your pretty lips wrap around the mushroom tip, he’s a goner. Phew! Just the mere thought of you shrouded in between his thighs, desperately trying to fit his girthy length in your mouth but failing, it makes him cum tons.

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P-(pent up/how long can they go without sex) Though he’s a sexy ass man, and the woman in town do notice him(flirt with him). He didn’t really think much about sex or relationships until you came into his life. Used to go months with release not really caring if he did, but now? Now, he can only go for a couple of days without cumming, will make time to pull multiple orgasms from the both of you even if it takes all night.

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Q-(quickly/how long does sex last with them) I’m not gonna lie, the first couple of time he came pretty quick. Your warm wet walls sucking him in further, constricting around his already twitching length. Of course he couldn’t help it. He doesn’t get much pussy, so don’t bully him :(. Now though? Well let’s just say his hunger for you is insatiable. Will go at it for literal hours, hours, round after round, not pausing (unless you need a break.) Will overstimulate the both of you to the point where you both pass out from sheer exhaustion. Mind numbing orgasm after orgasm. The bed stickly wet, your mixed juices staining the dark grey sheets.

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R-(receiving/how they act when partner takes reigns) Gurl the moment you sit ease him into you, he can’t even control the stuttering rhythm of his hips. The way your hands press against the swiney pecs, the flush covering your face as you lifted your self up and down riding him like your life depended of getting his load. Cums in a matter of minutes, but doesn’t mind if you wanna go another couple rounds. This side of you makes him feel giddy.

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S-(safe word/is it easy for them to stop?) Unless he’s dishing out punishment, you don’t have to try at all to get this behemoth to stop. The moment you signal you’re uncomfortable or the sensations are too much, he immediately goes into service mode. Handling your twitching body with upmost care, carefully wiping your puffy pussy clean, brushing his lips on the bruises his fingers left, massaging your aching muscles. He could still be hard but will abandon all pleasure just to take care of you.

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T-(trouble/ are they giving or receiving punishments?) Now you guys had to be build a sense of trust before you got to where you were, and that meant denying you of your release on multiple occasions. Suckling your clit until you cried out, but quickly pulling away the moment the tell signs of your orgasm crept up. Leaving you openly sobbing in frustration, keeps you a crying aching mess and will do it until you beg him to stop or just agree with whatever the hell he wants.

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U-(underwear/what they wear) Simple briefs. Usually opts for black or grey. Nothing too fancy. Sometimes likes to sleep in the nude but isn’t something he does often.

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V-(vocal/how loud are they) Baby gurl that coochie makes him sing like a canary. Isn’t too too loud but lets out his fair share of grunts and moans. He wants to let you know you make him feel incredible. His already deep voice lowering an octave as he groaned in your ear “you’re so fuckin’ perfect, pussy was made for me.”

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W-(Watch) He’s not too big on porn, but has a couple old erotica novels in his house.

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X-(wild card/random head cannon/ description of his meat stick) He has a very pretty dick. Ain’t gonna say it twice. Thick as a water bottle. 6 inches soft, 8.5 hard. Has a pretty pink mushroom head with two prominent veins tracing the underside of his cock and tan in colour.

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Y-(yes/would they open to new things?) My man would literally do anything for you. If you wanna fuck in the middle of the market, who is he to ignore your wish? Want him to eat you out the moment you wake up? He’s already on it. Wanna try mutual masturbation, (had a field day when you found out you read his ‘private’ books) hell yeah he’s down. Again though isn’t gonna force you to explore new things unless you 100 percent want to.

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Z-(zipper/do they get undressed or leave clothes on) There are fair occasions where he’s so feral for you that all he manages to be able to do it yank down his zipper and pull out his dick before fucking you into oblivion. But most the of the time, he loves to feel your skin on his. It just reminds him that you’re truly there with him, that he gets to be as close to you as humanely possible. Likes the both of you to be bare but also doesn’t mean he ain’t gonna fuck you when you wear those pretty dresses he got for you.

[formosusiniquis]

i'll play giles, you be spike

ao3 summer reading starts on monday, your local children's librarian (me) is grabby handing any inspiration they can and running with it.

"There's a vampire in the nonfiction section." Steve says in a harsh whisper that feels louder than if he’d just shouted it from across the room at Robin like he’d wanted to in the first place.

She finishes her spinny chair rotation before saying, "And other rejected Bailey School kid titles. What game is this?"

"It's not a game!” He drops the stack of go-backs he was about to put on the shelf in a thump on the counter. His preference for taking small stacks instead of wheeling the whole cart has served him well both for his sense of dramatics and for his ability to stealth. “There is a Kiefer Sutherland Lost Boys vampire in the nonfiction stacks. Or he’s really more like the dark haired one."

"There really is something for everyone at the library." She says with a dreamy sigh, bringing her folded hands up to her face.

"Robin! Could you be serious for five seconds?"

"Could you? Why are you jumping to vampire when it's obviously just a goth patron?”

He leans further across the desk so he can whisper more aggressively in her face. “Because he was in the 800’s Robin, nobody just goes into the 800’s.”

“Plenty of people go into the 800's, that's where all of the poetry and short stories are?”

“Oh yeah, all the poetry and short stories Diana buys. You tell me the last time you remember a new poetry book hitting the collection that wasn’t for Adelle back in Kids and maybe I’ll believe you about vampire guy.”

She sputters, because he’s right, and he had to listen to her complain about how she never would have heard of Gay Poems for Red States if their digital collection on Libby weren’t so much better stocked than their physical collection. And he’s right about this. 

“You’re not right about this, but let’s pretend you are. Why don’t you go out and live your Bella Swan fantasy then, dingus.”

“Because he’s super hot and intimidating-”

“-and you want him to bite you.”

“And,” he says loud enough that Mrs. Willis over on the computer shushes him. “And you don’t get to make fun of me just because some perky blonde hasn’t shown up to help you live out your little Tinkerbelle fairy fantasy.”

“Excuse me,” a warm, raspy voice pipes up from behind Steve, he doesn’t have to turn to be certain of who it belongs to. But he does, because he gets off on that edge of self-embarrassment and also it’s his literal job.

“How can I help you?”

The bulky leather jacket the guy has on, even though it’s May and basically already the summer, must have him hot. There’s a flush staining his face that is not a point away from Steve’s vampire theory even if he knows Robin is already thinking that it is. He’s wearing a shirt that says Corroded Coffin which is where vampires live, he knows that much even if he never can successfully keep up with Dracula Daily any year he tries.

“Yeah, so I made a bet with a friend that I could find a really specific piece of information before her by going to the library instead of using the internet.” Robin sucks in a sharp breath between her teeth, the sound of Steve’s wince. “I’m playing the long odds, Google kind of sucks now, so I think I’ve got a chance.”

“Steve can help you out,” Robin volunteers, standing up on the foot rest of her wheely chair to give his shoulder a shove. “He’s the best at finding things in the dark, secluded stacks where the cameras can’t see you.”

“Um…”

“Did you already know what you were looking for?” Steve asks, just to stop what is currently happening. “If it’s just the book not being where it’s at I can help you find it. Nonfiction is a pain, and people are always trying to be helpful and put things away; but I guess Hawkins Elementary isn’t teaching decimals like they used to.”

He couldn’t be rambling any worse if he were actually Robin and not the other timeshare owner of their worst brain cell.

Hot vampire guy just watches, a little amused but his smile is closed lipped, because he’s obviously trying to hide his vampire fangs. Not that Steve has a problem with being the hapless victim at the beginning of the Buffy episode, everybody has to go sometime and  if it’s via a hotter Spike it’s better than the way he always assumed he would die (as a casualty of one of Henderson’s sketchy science experiments.)

“I have a confession,” hot vampire guy says, they’ve made it back to where Steve remembers him standing before. 

“Yeah,” he prompts, idly scanning the shelf in front of him. Hopefully projecting whatever air of openness that gets strangers to confess their darkest sins to him unprompted at nine in the morning, so that this hot stranger feels comfortable admitting that he’s a sexy creature of the night.

“I don’t actually need anything from this row, our bet was actually about whether or not you and your coworker are an item.”

Well that wasn’t at all what Steve was hoping he would say. Hot guy -- probably a human hot guy since it is five o’clock and the sun is still high in the sky -- isn’t looking at him. He's straightening up the short story collections and bringing them up neatly to the edge of the shelf, letting his fingers gently flirt with some of the spines in lingering and wanting glances.

“Yeah, we're not together, and you're not her type. Sorry to be the bearer of that bad news.”

Hot guy sputters, mouth opening wide in his haste to deny his interest and revealing moderately sharp but definitely human canines and incisors.. Unfortunate, since Steve doesn't trust anyone who isn't a little obsessed with Robin like he is.

“She seems great,” he says when he's finished spitting all over the books, “she's just not really my type either. Seems like she's more into literary fiction and I’m looking for a guy who’s into campy horror and bad sci-fi.”

“The Star Trek novelizations aren’t bad sci-fi,” he says by rote, having spent too much time with the most annoying nerds in the world who only appreciated door stops that had ‘literary merit.’ Then the rest of the sentence catches up with him. “Oh!”

Hot guy smiles, and smug isn’t something that Steve usually finds attractive but it’s working on him. “I’m Eddie,” he says, “and if you’ll give me a second to win this bet you can tell me how you feel about maybe going out with someone who only plays a vampire on paper.”