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keraawrites · 4 months ago

Text

Your highness

Summary: Barbarian Bakugo, he was just that. A barbarian who didn't wait until someone told him he could have something; he took what was his, and if he had to fight to do it, then that was a bonus. So when you, the Princess of the Earth nymphs, makes an appearance at his name day, he has already taken with you, and it doesn't matter to him that you're already promised to someone else. ۶ৎ Bakugo x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Virgin reader, chasing, possessive Bakugo, cunnilingus, missionary, unprotected sex, nipple play, outdoor sex,

Word count — 7.7K

The morning of his name day broke over the vast, untamed lands of the Dragon Lords, bathing the towering peaks and dense forests in molten gold. Mist curled around the jagged cliffs, rolling down into the valleys like the breath of sleeping giants. The scent of damp earth, pine, and lingering embers from the night’s fires filled the crisp air.

Katsuki Bakugo stood at the edge of the river, bare-chested, his muscles taut as he tightened his grip around the throat of the struggling beast in his grasp—a wild drake, its black scales slick with water, its teeth snapping inches from his face.

"Stupid fuckin’ lizard," he growled, his grip unyielding.

The drake thrashed, wings cutting through the air in desperate defiance, sending sprays of icy water over his already damp skin. Its talons scraped against the riverbed, searching for leverage, but there was none to be found. With a snarl, Katsuki twisted, using his full weight to slam the creature onto the riverbank, pinning it beneath his knee.

"Yield," he ordered, crimson eyes burning as they locked onto the beast’s own.

The drake let out a strangled hiss, struggling for another breath before its body sagged beneath his strength, wings folding in reluctant submission. A slow, victorious grin spread across Katsuki’s face as he ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing back the wild strands sticking to his forehead.

"You’re gonna make a fine war mount," he muttered before finally releasing the creature’s throat.

The drake remained still, its breathing ragged, its golden eyes locked onto his. For a moment, neither moved. Then, slowly, the beast lowered its head in silent acknowledgment of his dominance.

The sound of heavy footsteps crunching against damp earth drew his attention.

"Knew you’d be out here," Kirishima’s voice rumbled, laced with amusement.

Katsuki scoffed, rising to his feet. "Better shit to do than sit around waitin’ for a bunch of pompous pricks to show up."

Kirishima chuckled. "Those ‘pompous pricks’ are noble lords and highborn ladies, here to honor you." He tossed a thick fur cloak toward him, which Katsuki caught without looking. "You might want to clean up before heading back. Your mother’s already fuming about your absence."

Katsuki clicked his tongue, shaking off the excess water before throwing the cloak over his shoulders. "She can wait."

Kirishima smirked. "Maybe. But the guests won’t."

Katsuki ignored him, his strides long and powerful as he made his way back toward the towering stone fortress. The Black Keep loomed over the land like a beast carved from the mountain itself, its spires jagged and sharp, banners of black and gold snapping in the wind. Inside, the halls were alive with movement—servants rushing to prepare, warriors clad in ceremonial armor standing at attention, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine thick in the air.

He strode through it all, ignoring the hushed whispers of admiration and fear that followed in his wake. He was used to it. The barbarian prince. The dragon-blooded warrior. A man feared and respected in equal measure.

And yet, none of it mattered. Not the feast, not the gifts, not the alliances his parents sought to strengthen in his name. He continued to ignore Kirishima and Kaminari's jokes as his eyes scanned the crowd lazily.

But then his sharp gaze landed on you.

You were not of his land. That much was clear.

The air itself seemed to hum around you as you stepped into the great hall, your presence like a whispered secret carried on the wind. Your skin was rich as dark earth, your deep curls woven with golden leaves that shimmered under the firelight. A gown of soft, flowing silks clung to your form, the colors shifting like dappled sunlight through the trees. Vines curled delicately around your arms, shifting with your every movement—alive, breathing, connected to your very soul.

An Earth nymph.

His fingers twitched at his sides, an unfamiliar heat curling in his gut. He had heard of nymphs before, but never had he seen one in the flesh. They were creatures of myth, tucked away in sacred forests, far from the bloodshed and steel that shaped his world. They did not mix with his kind. They did not belong in his halls.

So, why were you here?

Then his eyes flicked to the figure beside you.

The youngest Todoroki prince.

Katsuki’s body went rigid, the realisation hitting him like a blade to the gut.

His jaw clenched, something dark and possessive curling in his chest. The thought of you—his—belonging to someone else made his blood boil. He had conquered beasts, brought warriors to their knees, burned enemies from the sky with dragon fire. And yet, the idea of losing something that wasn’t even his yet was unbearable.

Before he even realised he was moving, he was already striding forward.

The crowd parted instinctively, sensing the shift in the air. Conversations hushed, whispers breaking out as he approached. But he didn’t care. His world had narrowed to the woman before him, the nymph who dared to enter his domain and steal his breath without a single word.

You turned, your gaze meeting his.

And for a moment, the hall itself seemed to still.

Katsuki didn’t stop. He didn’t hesitate. He stood before you, his towering presence casting a shadow over both you and the Todoroki prince at your side. His crimson eyes burned with intent as they raked over you, memorising every delicate curve, every shift of magic in the air around you.

"Who is she promised to?"

His voice was low, edged with a growl, meant for one person and one person alone.

The Todoroki prince lifted his chin, his pale face unreadable. "To me," he answered simply. "By sacred bond between the Nymph Kingdom and the Fire Court, our union—"

Katsuki barely let him finish. "Not anymore."

The words were a declaration, sharp as steel, final as death.

Gasps rippled through the hall.

Shoto’s brows lowered, his own magic crackling like embers. "You have no right—"

"I have every right," Katsuki interrupted, his gaze never leaving the nymph princess. His smirk was slow, dangerous, filled with nothing but raw intent. "I want her."

The weight of his words crashed through the room like a war horn. The tension was palpable, thick with unspoken threats.

Kirishima shifted behind him, the guards tensed, the nobles murmured. Your eyes widened ever so slightly, lips parting—whether in shock or something else, he didn’t know.

The Todoroki prince stood rigid beside you, his mismatched eyes narrowing with cold calculation. The fire in his veins did not burn recklessly like Katsuki’s—it was slow, controlled, waiting for the right moment to consume everything.

"You don’t understand what you’re doing," Shoto said, his voice even, unreadable.

Katsuki scoffed. "I understand just fine."

His gaze never left you. His princess.

You had not spoken yet, but he could feel the storm beneath your skin, the tension coiled tight in your frame. You were not the type to be taken lightly—he could see it in the way your jaw tightened, the way your hands clenched at your sides as if resisting the urge to let your vines lash out and strike him.

"Do you now?" You finally spoke, your voice smooth as flowing water yet sharp as a blade. "You would go to war over me, Barbarian?"

Katsuki’s smirk was slow, deliberate. "I’d burn the whole damn world down if it meant having what’s mine."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through your deep brown eyes. "You speak of me as if I am a prize to be claimed," you said, your tone dangerously quiet.

Katsuki tilted his head, studying you. "You stepped into my land looking like that, and you expect me to do nothing?" His voice lowered, rough and unapologetic. "You’re either blind or foolish."

Your nostrils flared, a whisper of magic curling in the air around you.

"Do not mistake your strength for the right to take what does not belong to you," you warned. "I am not some jewel to sit upon your hoard, dragon."

Katsuki’s grin only widened. Good. He had no interest in some wilting flower who would bow and tremble before him. He wanted this—your defiance, your challenge, the way you met his gaze like you were unafraid.

But he saw it, just beneath the surface.

The way your breath hitched when his eyes dragged over you.

The way your vines, wild and unpredictable, didn’t recoil from him.

Oh, you felt it too.

The thread of something inevitable weaving between you, tightening, unbreakable.

Shoto took a step forward, his voice colder than winter’s bite. "This union was forged in the name of peace. If you challenge it, you challenge more than just me. You challenge the Fire Court. You challenge the Nymph Kingdom."

Katsuki rolled his shoulders, unconcerned. "Then let ‘em come."

A murmur of shock rippled through the gathered nobles. Even his mother, the fierce and calculating Queen Mitsuki, sat forward on her throne, sharp eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

"Katsuki," she warned from the dais. "Do not be reckless."

Katsuki didn’t spare her a glance. "Too late."

"You are willing to bring war to the realm for a woman you just met?" Shoto asked, his tone clipped.

Katsuki finally dragged his gaze away from you, leveling the younger prince with a look that was pure fire and fury.

"Not just a woman," he said simply.

Shoto exhaled through his nose, gaze hardening. "You’re a fool."

Katsuki chuckled, low and dangerous. "Maybe." The blonde didn't know what losing was. He had the strength to command full-blooded dragons and a whole army. He had won countless battles, yet this was the one that had his blood burning.

The days passed in a blur of fire and steel, of shifting earth and dragon wings.

You couldn't quite fathom how quick everything escalated. The Prince wanted to wage a war over you, a war that he would indeed win that would end in endless bloodshed, and you didn't want that.

In the end, you and your parents had signed a treaty declaring your hand in marriage to the Barbarian Prince. It severed ties and made the relationship with your kingdom and the Fire court strained, but here you were, engaged to the dragon Prince, your wedding day on the horizon.

You found yourself navigating a world unlike anything you had ever known. The Dragon Kingdom was vast and untamed, its people as wild as the land they ruled. The air was thick with the scent of pine and ash, the mountains towering above them like ancient gods. The fortress of the Dragon Lords, carved into the very cliffs themselves, pulsed with life—warriors training in the courtyards, blacksmiths hammering away at weapons, the sky alive with the roar of dragons as they circled the peaks.

And you were to be their queen.

You should have hated it.

Hated him.

Instead, you found yourself adapting.

The barbarian way of life was crude, loud, and unruly—but it was also unapologetically alive. The people were fierce, loyal, and battle-hardened, but there was laughter in the streets, joy in their feasts, brotherhood among their warriors.

And you were not alone.

Despite being an outsider, despite being the nymph stolen by the dragon, you had found allies—friends.

It started with Mina.

The pink-skinned dragon shifter had no sense of boundaries. From the moment you met, Mina practically adopted you, dragging you into conversations, insisting that you sit beside her at meals, asking a thousand questions about the Nymph Kingdom.

"You have actual trees that move when you tell them to?" Mina had gasped one evening, eyes wide with wonder.

"Of course," you had replied, sipping your honeyed wine.

Mina had turned to Kirishima, smacking his arm. "Why don’t our trees move? That’s so unfair!"

Kirishima, who had long accepted Mina’s dramatics, only chuckled. "Because our kingdom doesn’t need them to.“

Sero and Denki had quickly inserted themselves into your life after that.

Sero was the calm one, his humor dry and his wit sharp, always watching, always amused.

Denki, on the other hand, was a menace.

"So," Denki had asked during a sparring session, "if I plant myself in your garden and ask nicely, do I get magical powers?"

You nearly smacked him with a vine.

Despite their antics, they had all become yours—a strange, chaotic family in a land you were still learning to call home.

But Katsuki?

Katsuki was the problem.

He was everywhere.

At feasts, grinning whenever you got into a heated debate with one of his lords.

In the halls, too close, too warm, his crimson gaze lingering whenever you passed.

You hated it.

Hated the way his presence unsettled you.

Hated the way your body reacted whenever he was near—heat curling in your stomach, skin prickling when his fingers brushed against yours, your breath hitching whenever his gaze dropped to your lips.

He never touched you, never crossed the fragile line between them.

But he made sure you wanted him to.

It was infuriating.

It didn’t help that the people of the Dragon Kingdom adored him.

You saw it in the way his warriors followed him without question. In a way, the common folk bowed their heads in respect but grinned like he was one of their own.

Katsuki was not a prince who ruled from above—he was a warrior who bled beside his people, who fought for them, who they would burn kingdoms for.

And despite everything, even though he had stolen you from your betrothed, even though he was reckless, arrogant, and completely insufferable—

You found yourself rallying for him. But it was a couple of days before the wedding that was the turning point for you.

The lake was your only refuge.

It wasn’t the same as the lakes of your homeland, where the water shimmered with the essence of life, where the trees whispered secrets only nymph ears could hear. But it was the closest you had here—a small piece of nature untouched by fire and steel.

You sat at the water’s edge, bare feet sinking into the cool, damp earth. The wind stirred the surface, rippling it like silk, the rustling leaves above offering a song that reminded her of home.

You missed it.

You missed the soft, green light filtering through the canopies of ancient trees. You missed the way the air smelled of wildflowers and rain-soaked earth. You missed the feeling of being surrounded by life that understood you, that responded to your presence.

Here, everything felt foreign.

And yet…

You were changing.

The Dragon Kingdom was working its way under your skin, into your bones. The people, the land, the warriors who had become your friends.

And him.

A low crunch of boots against soil made you tense. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone." His voice was always like this at night—low, rough, like embers smoldering beneath the surface.

You sighed, fingers tracing idle patterns in the dirt. "I can take care of myself, Barbarian."

You heard him scoff as he approached, expecting him to stand behind you, towering and overbearing as he always did. Instead, he sank down beside you, his knee brushing against hers. It was warm.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared out at the water with you, the quiet stretching between you.

"You miss it."

You swallowed, the ache pressing against your ribs. "Of course, I do."

"I know what it’s like to have your life decided for you."

You turned to him then, surprised. Katsuki Bakugo was not a man who admitted weakness, nor did he often speak of things that weren’t wrapped in threats or challenges.

He didn’t meet your gaze, staring ahead instead, golden eyes dark with thought. "You think I asked for this?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I was born into it. Had to fight for every scrap of respect, every goddamn breath. Always proving myself, always being the strongest, the smartest, the best. Because if I wasn’t, someone else would take it."

You watched him carefully, seeing something raw in his expression.

"It’s not the same," you said quietly, "but I understand."

His jaw tensed. "Then you should know—I don’t regret choosing you."

Your breathing stalled.

He turned then, finally meeting your eyes. The firelight from the torches in the distance flickered across his face, casting sharp shadows over his cheekbones, his strong jaw.

His gaze was hungry.

"I would have taken you no matter what," he said, voice rough. "Even if you weren’t promised to that bastard prince. Even if it meant burning every kingdom that stood in my way."

You should have been afraid. Should have recoiled from such reckless, consuming devotion.

But you weren't.

Because something in you wanted him just as badly.

The tension between you thickened, a storm pressing in. You could feel his breath, feel the way his body was so close, so unshakably present.

His movement was slow, as if waiting for you to stop him.

His lips brushed against yours, the softest graze of heat and longing. your fingers curled against the earth, heart pounding as he kissed you again—firmer this time, claiming, devouring.

You melted into it, into him, into the way his hands moved—one gripping the back of your neck, the other pressing against the small of your back.

A small sound escaped you, and that was all it took for something in him to come alive.

He growled against your lips, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you were dizzy.

Gods…

Your fingers found his chest, nails dragging over his skin, feeling the solid muscle beneath. He was all heat and strength, all restrained power barely kept in check.

You had never been kissed like this before. Had never known you could feel this kind of need.

His hand tightened in your hair, and you gasped, arching slightly into him.

And just like that—he was gone.

Katsuki pulled back, his breathing ragged, his hands clenched into fists at his sides like he was physically forcing himself to stop.

His jaw was tight, his crimson eyes burning.

"God’s I want you." His voice was thick with hunger. "I want to take you right now and make you mine before the gods themselves."

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your lips bruised from his kiss. You swallowed, unable to form words.

He exhaled harshly, wrestling with himself.

His hand came up, fingers brushing over your swollen lips, the touch almost reverent.

"I’ll wait," he murmured, voice strained. "I’ll respect your ways."

His thumb traced your bottom lip.

"But make no mistake—"

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "On our wedding night, I’m going to ruin you."

The day had arrived.

The sun hung heavy in the sky, a golden eye bearing witness to the union of two realms—fire and earth, dragon and nymph.

The entire kingdom had gathered for the occasion. The towering stone fortress had been transformed, its halls and courtyards adorned with rich greenery, golden banners, and intricate carvings of dragons and vines entwined—a symbol of the bond being forged today.

It was a spectacle of power.

The barbarian warriors of the Dragon Kingdom stood tall in their ceremonial armor, weapons strapped to their backs even in celebration. The nymphs, draped in flowing silks and woven flowers, moved like whispers of nature itself. The contrast was stark, yet somehow… fitting.

At the center of it all stood Katsuki Bakugo.

He was impatient.

Dressed in a deep red tunic embroidered with gold, his broad shoulders covered by a thick fur cloak, he looked every inch the warlord he was born to be. His crimson eyes burned with anticipation, his hands clenched at his sides.

He had waited for this day.

The great doors opened, and the air itself seemed to still.

The sight of you nearly brought him to his knees.

You were divine.

Your gown was unlike anything in the Dragon Kingdom—woven from enchanted silks that shimmered between hues of deep green and gold, mimicking the shifting sunlight through ancient leaves. Vines curled along your arms and down your back, alive.

Your dark skin glowed beneath the sunlight, and your curls were adorned with golden leaves and tiny white blossoms—an Earth-born goddess walking toward him.

And you were his.

His fingers twitched. His throat went dry.

You lifted your gaze, meeting his, and the weight of everything passed between you.

Two weeks of tension. Two weeks of near fights and near kisses. Two weeks of stolen glances and bated breath. Two weeks of resisting the inevitable.

Today, there was no running.

Katsuki smirked.

As you stepped forward, the ceremony's music began—a deep, rhythmic drumbeat mixed with the soft, lilting chimes of nymph instruments. It was the blending of two cultures, just as they were about to be.

When you reached him, you did not look away.

The ceremony began.

The Nymph King and Queen stood solemnly to the side, their expressions unreadable. They had reluctantly agreed to this, for the sake of peace. But it was clear that, despite everything, they still weren’t sure if giving their daughter to a barbarian was wise.

Too late now.

A high priestess from the nymphs and an elder dragon shifter from Katsuki’s court conducted the binding rites.

Vows were spoken—not of love, but of power.

Of loyalty.

Of forever.

And then came the final part—the binding of hands.

A thick, golden rope, imbued with ancient magic, was wrapped around your wrists. The moment the final knot was secured, the magic surged—a deep hum of energy that sealed your union in the eyes of gods and mortals alike.

It was done.

"You may claim your bride," the elder intoned.

Katsuki’s lips twitched.

He turned to you, tilting his head slightly, giving you one last chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

His smirk widened, he claimed you.

The kiss was not soft.

It was not hesitant.

It was everything.

It was fire meeting earth, molten heat against unyielding strength. It was the end of a battle neither of them had been willing to surrender to—until now.

You gasped, and he took the sound into his mouth, deepening the kiss until he could feel the way you trembled.

Your fingers curled into the fur of his cloak. His hand tightened around yours, your bound wrists keeping them locked together.

Mine.

The crowd roared.

The barbarian warriors stamped their feet, the nymphs let out melodic cheers. The kingdom rejoiced.

But Katsuki barely heard them.

His world had narrowed to the woman before him—his wife.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was heavy, his voice a rough whisper meant only for you.

"Two weeks," he murmured, brushing his thumb against your wrist, where the magic still thrummed between them. "I waited two godsdamn weeks for this."

You smirked—smirked—and leaned in, your voice just as low.

"And you'll wait until tonight for the rest."

Katsuki growled.

The gods help you both.

Tonight, he was going to ruin you.

The grand hall of the Dragon Kingdom roared with life.

The wedding feast was a spectacle unlike any other. Long tables stretched across the hall, overflowing with roasted meats, golden fruits, and goblets filled to the brim with dark wine and honeyed mead. Great fires blazed in the hearths, casting flickering shadows over the ancient stone walls, where banners of red and gold hung proudly alongside green and gold.

The air was thick with laughter, music, and the pounding of drums. The barbarian warriors celebrated as they always did—loudly—clashing their mugs together, breaking into drunken chants of victory. The nymphs, though more refined, had let the night pull them in, their voices rising in song, their bodies swaying with the music.

At the head of it all, sitting on the raised dais, was the newly bound couple.

You still felt the weight of the magic binding you, a soft thrum against your skin that reminded you of what they had just done. You stole a glance at Katsuki, who sat beside you, crimson eyes scanning the crowd, his fingers drumming against the wooden armrest of his seat.

He was restless.

You could feel it, the tension in his body, the heat that radiated off him despite the coolness of the hall.

You swallowed, gripping the goblet in your hands as Mina flopped into the seat beside you.

“Gods, I thought that ceremony was never going to end,” Mina groaned dramatically, pouring herself another drink before nudging your arm. “You looked stunning, though. And the way he looked at you—” She wiggled her brows. “Like a dragon ready to devour his offering.”

Your face warmed. “Mina—”

The pink-haired warrior grinned. “Tell me, are you excited for the chase?”

You frowned. “The… chase?”

Mina blinked, and for a brief moment, she looked genuinely surprised that you didn’t know. But before she could press further, Denki came up behind you, dragging Sero along.

“There you two are!” Denki slurred slightly, plopping into a seat. “We were just about to start placing bets on whether or not Kirishima would drink that entire barrel of ale.”

Mina smirked. “Oh, I’d put ten gold pieces on him making it at least three-fourths of the way.”

“I say he passes out before then,” Sero added, throwing an arm over the back of his chair.

You couldn’t help but smile at them. In the weeks you’d spent adjusting to your new life, they had welcomed you into their circle without hesitation.

“The Queen is coming,” Sero interrupted, tilting his chin toward the front of the hall.

You turned just as Mitsuki Bakugo stopped in front of you.

You had seen little of the Dragon Queen in the past weeks, but she had been impossible to miss. She was a force—sharp-eyed, quick-tongued, and utterly unafraid to put Katsuki in his place.

Now, she stood before you—her new daughter-in-law, arms crossed, assessing.

The hall grew quieter.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose there are worse women my son could’ve married.”

The tension broke as Mina snorted into her drink, and Denki choked on his mead.

To your absolute shock, the Queen leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping away and lifting a golden goblet.

Mitsuki turned to the crowd. “This marriage has bound two realms together in ways we could have never anticipated. And so, to honor this union, I officially recognise the treaty between the Dragon Kingdom and the Earth Nymph Kingdom. May it bring prosperity and power to us all.”

The room erupted in cheers. The Queen could barely hold in her smirk as she turned to you.

“But before we send the newlyweds off, there is still one tradition left to uphold.”

The rooars of approval were deafening, confusing at that because you weren't aware of this tradition, but Katsuki very much was. He stiffened, his body radiating restless energy, causing your stomach to drop

Mitsuki ran her fingers through your hair, and for the first time tonight, her grin was truly wicked.

“Daughter,” she said, “it is time for the chase.”

The hall erupted into cheers, the pounding of fists against wooden tables sending tremors through the floor. The warriors of the Dragon Kingdom roared their approval, while the nymphs exchanged curious glances, their court unfamiliar with this particular tradition.

You, however, sat frozen, your goblet held loosely in your grasp as your mind raced. Your stomach rippled with nerves, but before you could air out your confusion, Katsuki stood, you watched as he took his tunic off, as his muscles rippled against his tribal tattoos.

Your thighs clenched in anticipation. His aura was suffocating, and you still didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“For generations, the chase has been a rite of passage for the royal bloodline of the Dragon Kingdom,” the Queen announced, her voice ringing out over the gathered crowd. “A test of strength, speed, and above all—claim.”

You swallowed, your pulse hammering as the older blonde focused back on you. “Daughter, as our customs dictate, you will be granted a head start. You will run into the woods, and my son will hunt you down.” Her lips curled. “If he catches you, the wedding night begins.”

The hall erupted again.

Your eyes widened, you turned to Katsuki, who simply smirked as if he relished the idea of chasing you through the dark woods, of catching you, of—

Oh.

“Oh.”

Now it made sense why Mina had asked if you were excited. Why Katsuki had looked so restless all night. He’d been waiting for this.

Waiting to hunt you.

Your breath came faster, excitement and unease tangling in your chest. This was a game to them, a tradition, but the way Katsuki watched you made it clear—this wasn’t a game to him.

This was real.

And he intended to win.

Mitsuki raised her hand again. “Bride, rise.”

You did, slowly, your fingers curling into the fabric of you gown.

“Go,” Mitsuki said. “Run.”

The room exploded with noise—cheers, whistles, pounding fists. The scent of mead and smoke filled your nose as you stepped away from the table, your heart slamming against your ribs.

Your eyes lock onto your husband’s, and the feral look in his gaze sends a rush of heat pooling low in your stomach. Every nerve in your body screams at you to run. To flee. To play the game he so desperately craves.

So you do.

You don’t think twice before turning on your heel, your bare feet barely making a sound as you bolt from the great hall and into the wild embrace of the woods.

The night air is crisp against your overheated skin, but it does little to cool the fire that rages within you. The thrill of the chase—of knowing he is coming for you—sends adrenaline surging through your veins, pushing you forward. You weave between the trees, ducking low-hanging branches, the hem of your tattered wedding gown catching on underbrush as you move. The earth hums beneath your feet, answering your silent call. Vines coil and twist in your wake, rising from the dirt, stretching toward the sky to slow your hunter.

But you know better.

Katsuki doesn’t dodge obstacles.

He destroys them.

A thunderous roar splits the air behind you, raw and primal. The sound alone makes your legs falter, your heart slamming against your ribs. The ground quakes beneath the weight of his power, and then—chaos.

Wood splinters. Branches snap like brittle bones. The earth itself trembles as he barrels through the barriers you’ve placed, shattering them with sheer, brute force.

You force yourself faster, muscles burning, lungs screaming as you sprint toward the lake. The trees begin to thin, and the moonlight spills over the water’s surface like liquid silver. But the moment you burst from the treeline, you know you’ve made a mistake.

Too open.

Too exposed.

If you run into the lake, he will catch you. If you try to double back, he will still find you.

Think.

The answer comes in a breath.

With a flick of your wrist, the mist thickens. It rises from the water, curling around the trees, swallowing the forest in a veil of dense, ghostly white. You disappear within its embrace, pressing your back against the rough bark of an ancient tree, forcing your breath to slow.

Silence.

The stillness unsettles you.

You listen, straining to hear beyond the hammering of your own heart.

Then—nothing.

No snapping branches. No shifting leaves. Just the eerie quiet of the mist.

And that’s when you realise.

He’s already here.

A sharp gasp tears from your lips as arms encircle your waist, dragging you back against an unyielding wall of muscle. A calloused hand claps over your mouth, muffling the sound, while his breath fans against the nape of your neck.

The deep rumble of his voice sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

"If I didn't know any better, little nymph, I'd say you wanted me to catch you."

Your breath hitches as sharp teeth graze the sensitive skin of your throat, nipping, teasing. His free hand roams lower, skimming the curve of your waist before slipping beneath the torn fabric of your gown. The remnants of the chase cling to your body, tattered and ruined—just like he wants you.

A guttural growl vibrates against your skin as his fingers ghost along the inside of your thigh, barely brushing against where you ache for him most. The sound you make is somewhere between a whimper and a moan, your hips instinctively shifting closer to his touch.

“Fuck, Princess,” he rasps, his voice rough with restraint, thick with hunger. “You’re not makin’ this easy.”

Your fingers dig into his arms, feeling the heat rolling off his skin, the raw strength coiled beneath the surface. “I don’t plan to.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, dark and dangerous. His grip in your hair tightens, tugging just enough to make you gasp, exposing more of your throat to his waiting mouth.

His lips press against your pulse, his tongue flicking over the rapid thrum beneath your skin before he bites down—hard.

Your knees nearly give out.

A sharp, helpless moan escapes you as he soothes the sting with his tongue, his fingers pressing tighter against your thigh. He hasn’t even touched you properly yet, but your body is already betraying you, already drenched with want.

Then his hand finally slips between your thighs, fingers brushing against your slick folds.

He stills, his breath catches.

“Fuuuuck, baby,” he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. His fingers slide against your bare, dripping heat, and he curses again, voice rough with something close to agony. “You were like this all day?”

You hum, lips curving into a wicked smile as you trail your mouth along his jaw, the sharp stubble scraping against your soft skin. “Waiting for you,” you whisper.

Something in him must have snapped, because the next thing you knows, he’s pressing you harder against the tree, your leg hiked up over his hip, locking you against him. His hand moves with purpose now, fingers parting your folds, rubbing slow, torturous circles over your aching bud.

Your breath shudders, pleasure rolling through you in waves.

His lips brush against your ear, voice thick with a promise that has your core clenching around nothing.

“I am going to fucking ruin you.”

Your pulse pounds against your ribs. “Then do it.”

A sharp gasp shudders from your lips as Katsuki's fingers slide lower, pressing against your entrance but never quite giving you what you need. The heat between your thighs is unbearable, the ache unbearable, and yet he moves slow, teasing, savoring your frustration.

A growl rips from his chest, low and feral, before his mouth crashes into yours, claiming you with a desperation that sets your blood on fire. You don't remember how, but your body was now being pressed into the Earth as his fingers dug into your hips.

The last remnants of your dress are torn away with a sharp rip, the sound lost beneath the rustling of the trees. The night air is cool against your bare skin, but you barely register it.

He took his time, lips dragging down your neck, his teeth grazing your delicate skin before he bit down, leaving a mark—his mark. A deep shudder wracked through your body as he moved lower, his kisses slow, deliberate, like he wanted to memorise every inch of you with his tongue.

Your breath hitched when he reached your breasts, his mouth closing around one aching peak, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud. You gasped, arching into him, fingers tangling in his hair as he lavished you with attention, sucking and teasing until you were trembling beneath him.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmured, voice thick with desire. “Like you were made for me.”

You were already dizzy, his mouth continued its descent, lips ghosting over your stomach, his hot breath sending goosebumps trailing over your skin.

You jolted when his fingers grazed the apex of your thighs, your body instinctively clenching as a wave of nervous anticipation washed over you. Katsuki paused, crimson eyes flicking up to yours.

He could feel it—your innocence, the tension in your muscles, the way you held your breath. Fuck. It made him feral; you were completely innocent, and he was going to ruin you.

His fingers dipped lower, a slight groan leaving his lips. "Fuckin' soaked," he mutters, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, spreading your arousal until you're squirming against his grip. "Drippin’ for me, Princess. You got no idea how fuckin’ crazy that makes me."

You whimper, a sound that has his grip tightening in your hair, forcing your head back so he can kiss you. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet.

Your breath hitches when his lips leave yours, trailing down your throat. He lingers over the mark he sucked onto your skin earlier, his tongue flicking over the bruised flesh, as if he wants to remind you—remind the gods themselves—who you belong to.

His voice is a whisper of sin against your collarbone. “I can't wait. 'Till I have you screamin’ my name so loud the heavens fuckin’ shake.”

A shiver races down your spine.

You roll your hips, grinding down onto his hand, trying to take more. He groans into your mouth, the sound raw and guttural, but still—he holds back.

“Beg,” he orders, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes, his own blazing with restraint. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

You used to be very prideful; you were the Princess of the ancient Earth Nymphs. You did not beg for anything, but your mind was hazy, your curls nodded against your head as you mumbled your response, already drunk on him like he was honeymead.

"Katsuki," you breathe, reaching behind you, fingers sliding into his messy blond hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan. "Please."

The word is barely out of your mouth before he’s gripping your hips, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin.

You cry out, your head falling against the grass as he curls two thick fingers inside you, stretching, teasing, coaxing pleasure from deep within your core. His other hand slides up your spine, keeping you pinned as he fucks you with his fingers, the obscene sound of your arousal filling the quiet night.

“Fuck,” he grits out, watching the way your body reacts to him, the way you tighten around his fingers. "You’re so fuckin’ tight. Gonna be even tighter around my cock, huh?"

You moaned, the sound sinfully deligtful to his ears, the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. His eyes were blazed over, he pulled your leg over his shoulder as his face became present with your cunt.

Your face flushed from the intimacy, "Kat-- you shouln't--"

"Eh!? Don't tell me I'm not allowed to eat my bride's pussy."

Your head fell back, your curls fanned out against the damp grass as you felt his lips suck violently on your clit as his fingers continued to work an orgams out of you.

A strangled cry tears from your lips, your body arching off the forest floor as his tongue moves against you with devastating precision. Heat coils low in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter as he devours you like a man starved.

"Katsuki—" His name is a breathless plea, your fingers tangling in his unruly blond hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

“Fuck,” he growled, pulling back just enough to smirk up at her. “You sound so pretty when you moan for me.”

He groans against your soaked folds, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. His fingers don’t slow—curling, pressing against that devastating spot inside you while his tongue flicks over your clit, sucking, licking, worshiping.

"Shit," he rasps, pulling away just long enough to look up at you, his chin glistening with your slick. His crimson eyes are wild, pupils blown wide. "Taste like fuckin’ honey, baby."

Then he's back on you, tongue and fingers working in perfect, merciless rhythm. Your thighs tremble around his head, and your grip in his hair tightens, body writhing, pleasure building unbearably high—

Your fingers tangled in his hair, thighs quivering as he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it with a pressure that had you gasping, writhing beneath him.

You felt something coil deep in your belly, tight and urgent, your body winding up like a bowstring about to snap.

“Katsuki— I can’t—”

He groaned against you, his tongue flicking faster, harder. “Yes, you can,” he growled. “Let go for me, Princess.”

"Katsuki—fuck, I'm—"

"Do it," he growls against your heat. "Come on my tongue. Let me feel it."

A sharp cry rips from your throat as you shatter, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tenses, legs shaking as he coaxes every last tremor from you with slow, languid strokes of his tongue.

Katsuki pulled back, licking his lips, eyes dark with satisfaction. “So fucking sweet,” he muttered.

You barely register him moving, but suddenly, he's above you again, pressing his body against yours, caging you beneath him. Your eyes began to adjust, landing on his crimson gaze, his eyes uncharacteristically soft

He loved the contrast of your skin against his, the way your body flushed against him as you still tried to come down from your orgasm, but Katsuki wasn't a very patient man.

A soft groan left your lips, legs still shaking as you came down from your high. He hooked your leg over his waist, your eyes widened as you saw the size of his cock.

Fucking hell, how was that gonna fit? His chuckle filled your ears as he began coating himself in your wetness, your eyes rolling back softly as he continued to tease you.

"Don't worry, baby, it'll fit."

Katsuki drags the thick head of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. Every slow, teasing stroke against your swollen clit sends a fresh wave of pleasure rippling through you, making your body tremble beneath him. He smirks at your reaction, eyes dark with hunger, with need.

You whimper, rolling your hips against him, desperate for more. “Katsuki, please—”

He groans at your plea, gripping your thigh and hitching it higher against his waist, spreading you wider beneath him. His other hand slides up your body, fingers splaying across your stomach before trailing higher, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. He watches your reaction, the way you arch into his touch, the way your breath catches.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth down your throat, over the curve of your breast, before latching onto your sensitive peak. He sucks, slow and deep, his tongue flicking over the bud until you’re gasping.

You pull him away from your skin, your eyes meeting his as your lips ghost over his. "Fuck me,” you breathe, the words tumbling past your lips before you can stop them. “Take me, Katsuki.”

A guttural sound rips from his throat, and then—

He sinks into you.

Your mouth parts on a silent gasp, your back arching as he stretches you open, filling you inch by agonizing inch. The burn is sharp, but the pleasure? The pleasure is devastating.

“Shit—” Katsuki’s voice is strained, shaking as he fights to hold himself together. He stills, buried to the hilt inside you, his arms trembling from the effort of keeping himself in check. “You’re—fuck, baby, you’re so tight.”

You feel it too—the way he’s stretching you, the way your body struggles to accommodate his size. But the pain is already melting into something else entirely.

Katsuki groans, his grip bruising as he sets a rhythm that has you gasping, clinging to him, meeting every thrust with desperate, rolling hips. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes through the trees, mingling with the ragged moans that spill from your lips.

“You were fuckin’ made for me,” he growls against your throat, his teeth scraping against the delicate skin. “This pussy—fuck—this perfect, tight little pussy is mine.”

Yours.

The word echoes through your mind, through your very soul.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

Your hands tangle in his wild blond hair, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, desperate and consuming. He drinks you in, swallows your moans, his hips slamming against yours in deep, punishing strokes.

He feels the way your walls flutter around him, the way you’re teetering on the edge, ready to fall apart in his arms.

His fingers drop between your bodies, finding your swollen clit, rubbing tight, merciless circles.

You don't even realise it before it's too late; you shatter, pleasure crashing over you in violent, breathtaking waves. Your vision goes white, your body clenching down on him, dragging him over the edge with you.

Katsuki groans, his rhythm faltering, his grip on your hips bruising as he thrusts deep one last time, burying himself inside you as he spills into you with a low, shuddering moan.

The world is silent except for the sound of your mingled breaths, the quiet hum of the forest around you. The night is still, the mist curling lazily over the lake, the moon bearing witness to the union that has sealed your fate.

Katsuki stays there, forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his heart hammering against your own. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together, grounding you both in the aftermath.

He presses a kiss to your temple, soft and lingering, "You were mine the momen't I laid eyes on you, but now, nothing can take you away from me."

Your lashes flutter against your skin as you stare up at him, the hum of your magic coursing through your body as you softly clenched around him.

Your lips caught between your teeth as you could feel the difance welling up in you. You knew you were his; you had fallen for him long before the wedding, but that didn't mean you would make it easy for him.

Your brows raised, your fingers running down his bicep, "You must not have done a very good job at claiming me then, Barbarian, because I still don't feel like yours."

You could feel the excitement and nervousness bubble in you as you watched his eyes completely darken, the sound of your giggles echoed through the forest as he roughly turned you over, your fingers dug into the Earth as he pulled your ass up.

"Yeah? Seems like I'm gonna have to claim you over and over again, your Highness."

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senka-mesecine · 2 months ago

Note

beseech You about fluffy Barnes, It's such a rarity to read something like this, I love you madly, you're the reason I'm opening my phone'

Close Quarters.

Robert Barnes x Reader.

---

wonderful gif by @woman-with-no-name

---

The patrol culminates in rain and thunder.

At 0200 the drenched, tired reconnaissance team wordlessly halts in the bosom of the overgrown bush fenced off from all sides by colossal tree trunks as a natural borderland, rain coming down hard, pelting and pawing at the foliage, the thumping sounds of a shower downpour dancing pins and dots on the grass leaving a haze of heated mist behind, the greenery, needles of water ricocheting off the meaty surface of Monstera and overgrown, towering Alocasia leaves when the signal is silently given sometime after three hours of continuous movement westwards, through the valley about to be hit with the prelude to the early monsoon season announced by a cacophony of crickets, frogs, the squeaking of Tokay gecko lizards and the repetitive chirping of the Blue Eared Barbet bird, one hand held up to signalize; the Lieutenant and Sergeants raising their arm to the square, palm forward, fingers and thumb extended; you've slept in the wild during the rain before, sure, hauling equipment, backpacks, the fatigues on your own exhausted spine, the air so humid and stifling even at this late hour, almost like the pitch black, cloud-heavy sky overhead was pressing down on the warm oxygen, trapping it between the jungle and the atmosphere not unlike a hydraulic press, that the quiet past-midnight storm was almost welcome in a strange way --- a rare bit of fresh, breathable air in an oven --- washing you down like an overly heated piece of plate gets sprayed down by a hose from somewhere overhead. He never slept. Part of you wondered how that was even humanly possible. Or at least, nobody has ever seen him do it; no doubt, he viewed it like some act of inherent, profound vulnerability he didn't wish to be outright witnessed by human eyes; a soft-belly man with shut off senses with his tender neck bared and exposed to the world, unbecoming, like somebody asking to be jumped --- you wouldn't put it past Robert Barnes to sleep hidden, in the rare off chance he did get shut eye once his usual battle-pumped adrenaline wore off, somewhere up in a tree like a panther or a tiger maintaining watch over perimeters in the night with unblinking eyes as blue and as fluorescent as a hunting tom-cat's gaze, or in some forest cave not unlike a wild hog, emerging only once the break was done, without anyone knowing where he was in the brief second it took for them to turn their heads.

He ain' never sleep, Rhah Vermucci's fervent, impassioned words come to mind.

Does a machine need sleep? Huh!? Yeah, bah, only once its battery is bepelted and once it's depleted, you just replace 'em and the machinery keeps'on runnin' smooth as can be, day in, day out. That's Barnes! Lids open, body upside down, like a nocturnal bat! Yeah.

You were offended by those words then; silently, privately.

Like any and every man's lover undoubtedly would anyhow.

Gaze framed with lashes dripping with the salt of sweat and rainwater searching for Barnes's form in the chaos of wilderness even now as you found some tucked away place, intending to catch your Z's, or at least pretend to and rest your eye lids and your body on the bare, wet soil, your oily green, knee-length rain coat the only thing between you and the elements as your rucksack stayed firmly attached to your shoulders by its belted straps, knowing he was somewhere close by, M16 in tow, inspecting perimeters while everyone else in the infantry settled down in their own respective chosen resting corner, about to lay low until the first crack of dawn. Maybe why you shiver so suddenly when you catch the sound of barely audible movement sashay from behind your back, thinking for a second that you stupidly, carelessly laid down on a snake's hovel, a red ant's nest or a VC hole, tactically covered by shrubberies and branches, ready to bayonet you from underground. No, no. Barnes. It was him. On a hip. Already settled next to you as your heart hammered away fast. His presence as quiet as the air itself. The sleek fabric of his raincoat occasionally flashing with a dim sheen faced with the distant flash of lighting, elbow leaned up against the thick, vein root of a Banyan tree that served as natural roofing against the rain, his firearm wrapped in protective cloth against the moisture propped up beside him like an extended limb, watching you as you instinctively turned your position, facing him; wasn't the first time you lounged in close quarters like this either, under the cover of night, when nobody was likely to see or question why two soldiers were having each other's backs; the schedule of one resting and the other keeping vigil an intended pairing of practicality. The first time he ever did it was startling but you didn't question it --- you assumed it was the nature of things that the strongest in the unit naturally paired up with what was the weakest link, an auxiliary nurse hauling equipment, slow and often overburdened, to avoid the needless casualty of being shot during an unexpected ambush. The second time he's done it? The third? How about the fourth? You came to expect it almost; this knowledge that when you'd halt and put down gear, Barnes would be close by, appearing wordlessly like a shadow in the abyss, halting and putting down gear too, magnets moving and dragging the other along.

You shuffle on your side, suppressing a sigh and a groan.

Underground, soil-covered stones, pebbles and roots digging into your body.

Cheek against the ground still radiating the extinguished anvil of daytime's warmth.

Fetal position intending to make you small on purpose; the less noticeable, the better.

Strategically crawled in between the grass and the foot of the strangler fig, all tangled, hanging, branch-supporting roots and thick curtains of hanging, Spanish moss, face to face with each other, you only barely withhold a gasp when his unfolded sleeping roll slides over you like a wing, shrouding you in total darkness for all but a second, having him cover you in it in one swift movement while his other hand never let go of his firearm, pulling the camping blanket over your head, adjusting it over your hair covered by the hood of your raincoat, tightened and tied into place by an elastic thread, the rain pelting down on the compression straps of the waterproof nylon instead of your body while he lay there as wet as the jungle itself; his head wrapping drenched and darkened along with the whisps of hair peeking through its edges, scattered across his covered forehead, scarred, leathery skin covered in a soaked gleam, the corner of his jaw, starting from his temple, down his cheeks, dripping with the drizzle. Yet he cared, you figured, in his own way, that even though you were already soaked to the bone you don't continue being bolted down by the rain for the rest of the night if he had any say in it, creating a makeshift refuge of relative dryness and shelter; a solitary island in the darkness --- wordless ways he looked out for you.

-"Thank you."-

You mouth without making sounds, the words merely oxygen.

Barely audible.

He knew what you meant; you continuously thanked him the same every time.

And his eyes always followed the movement of your lips, reading signs.

Mutual silences being an ingrained way of communication out in the jungle.

Now laying so very close you practically feel his breath on your face.

A hair's inch between you as he scoots nearer on his side.

The tip of his nose nearly pressing into yours.

No moon outside, no source of light.

Regardless, you nearly see yourself reflected in the center of his stare.

He doesn't kiss you even though his presence is right there, going by the mantra of all business, no pleasure, at least not while in the open bush, ever the consummate professional and disciplinarian, the discoloration of his meaty, full mouth where once upon a time the shrapnel of a bullet hit his face visible, a layer of flesh peeled off from the edge of his lower lip like the skin off a bruised peach, revealing the dark layer of crust that formed the crater of a wound and you watch him and he watches right back, taking in your face, lids hanging low and the blue of his eyes steady on the horizon of his sockets, having you cornered in from all sides by the protective wall of the looming tree, his sleeping roll blanketing you over, effectively hiding you, and his own body, the tips of two noses slowly brushing each other in the mimicry of a caress, not unlike one of those Eskimo kisses, the contact leaving a wet imprint on your face --- not quite an embrace, but close enough, torsos pressed together to the degree you could feel the low rumbling of his insides, the rhythm of his breathing, in and out, in out, heart hitting a steady beat, filling your nostrils with the musk of him, thigh against thigh, hip against hip; the outdoors forged aroma of sweat and tobacco smoked while at base, the freshness of rain, something almost leaf-like, briefly reminiscent of pine even though there wasn't a single one in sight this side of the continent, his closeness calm and steady, yet heavy, like a living rock covering you, keeping you safe as you nestled, using the hollowness of a muscular shoulder you knew was covered in scars underneath layers of fatigue and equipment as a pillow --- a warm, wet place to carefully, tenderly lean the outline of your hooded, sweat soaked scalp, his raincoat crinkling slightly as you set down your head to be able to gaze at him at even closer proximity until two faces were almost one, the side of your cheek smushed against the scarred, left side of his, fitting together like a solved puzzle, feeling every crater, every nook, every cranny, every dent imprinted on your own skin certain to leave faint, pale sleeping marks by you by morning, making you reflections of each other; a closeness held at back only by the presence of the ground your heads were on. Even now, Barnes's lids never flutter shut even in the make belief of sleep while all his other senses were alert; no, his eyes always open. Always scrutinizing. Always searching yours, stern, serious, focused, intense.

The distant sound of thunder rumbles on and you knew he intended to watch.

You knew he intended to wordlessly, quietly watch while you recuperated.

Sleeping bag off of his shoulder and every hour of rest out of his eyes ---

Purely so you could have yours.

In absolute gratitude, your lips touch the mangled scar of his, not kissing, never breaking that protocol bit of contract, not out here anyway where a moment of negligence could come with a high cost, but merely lingering, a parted caresses as you close your weary eyes, feeling instant relief once you do, fully awake, ears on alert, limbs ready to jump at any moment, but your eyes subsiding in their burning sensation on the precipice of being awake and being asleep, halfway rested and halfway aware, even if it was for a minute, ten, half an hour, under the defensive hill of blankets he's made for you, shielding you, not unlike an umbrella, as the relentless rain kept crashing down hard and heavy, beating against his body as rigid and as unmoving as a boulder while you lay there, soundly, the windows of your lids blissfully closed, mouth against his face prickled with the faintest sensation of a fresh shave around his scars, feeling the warm, tender flesh cushioned beside you, laying watch; your own personal guard.

No, Barnes never slept.

At least not when anyone was likely to see.

Observing you do it instead, leaving you with the knowledge that when you wake?

Hit with the earliest cracks of a dawn bedashed with the aftermath of a storm?

He'd still be here watching.

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