#three lions imagine

[dpsisquared]

"Few knights are truer than you, Ashe. I bade you to keep living, and you have."

Scarlet Blaze, Ashe vs. Dimitri at Arianrhod

[ohfugecannada]

I said this earlier in the tags of another post, but given how Drax, Peter, Gamora and Rocket all acted as Groot ii’s parents, and the fact that in a galaxy full of alien cultures there’s bound to be tons of societies where non-monogamous dynamics are the norm or at least fairly common, it’s highly likely the four of them were mistaken for a polycute raising a kid at least a few times by some of their clients.

[sothisblessmysoul]

Can I ask for a bouquet of flowers for the blue lions? That sounds so adorable. 🥰

(I never knew if you wanted all of them or selected few so I did all of them)

༓ʚ A Flower's Meaning ɞ༓

Summary: The Blue Lions react to you catching a bouquet at a friend’s wedding

༓Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd He watched you catch it without blinking or flinching, mainly just confused as the realization slowly took over your face as you finally met Dimitri’s gaze. There was something about how the flowers looked in your hands and the look that you gave him that made Dimitri feel so flustered. So pretty, is his single thought as Dimitri’s made his way to you, feet on autopilot.

༓Dedue Molinaro Dedue’s eyes were completely on you, holding the colorful flowers that all mean a term of love in language as everyone else is looking between you and him. He doesn’t flare up in a blush or appear startled but you can see Dedue is feeling embarrassedly flustered by the awkward stiffness of his movement as the tall man makes his way to you.

༓Felix Hugo Fraldarius Felix does not want to be here with unimportant people, if anything he wants to be comfortably at home with you. But he will admit that the other wedding is pretty. Felix wonders if you’ve ever thought about marriage, but any further thought of the subject changes when you catch the flowers that nearly smacked you in the face. The image of what you would look like holding yours flashed quickly in his thoughts as for once Felix quietly watched you.

༓Ashe Ubert A blush marked his freckled face with a happy smile but a shy expression at the teasing that Ashe knows his friends and siblings will give him as you walked over to him. Subconsciously Ashe reached out his hand for you to take, gently pulling you closer to his side as Ashe studied the flowers. The bouquet was pretty but it wasn’t your favorite, he thought to himself. The following thought is how beautiful you would look, holding your favorite flowers while neither Ashe nor you let go of each other’s hands because it felt like two missing puzzle pieces found a place to fit perfectly together.

༓Sylvain Jose Gautier Immediately starts to sweat nervously as the flowers are perfectly in your hand while his hand subconsciously touches his pocket where the ring is that he’s planning to ask your hand for later. He had been carrying it, not having a day or place in mind until right now. This is a sign, he thinks as you lock eyes with him and smile which he returns.

༓Mercedes von Martritz She was standing right beside you when you had caught the flowers, she leaned over to sniffle the flowers with a smile growing on her face as she looked up at you, pulling away from you but not before kissing your cheek. She giggled quietly at your reaction to the flowers and the kisses. She is going to tease you but this will bring up the thought of marriage and the future with her.

༓Annette Fantine Dominic Instantly a crimson blush blooms on her face as endless giggles of excited bundles of nerves, reaching how to touch one of the flowers’ petals. Annette went quiet, wondering what flowers she would pick for her wedding, she subconsciously looked at you. She isn’t going to say anything immediately today or tomorrow but there will be hints of marriage, hoping that you’ll catch on and talk about it with her.

༓Ingrid Brandl Galatea She never really thought deeply about marriage, it was just something that her father wanted for her. But when Ingrid saw your reaction to catching the bouquet to look for her and finally smiling when you found Ingrid, she wondered for a fleeting thought if you would smile like that at the altar. She can’t explain why it made her face blush although Ingrid didn’t hate that idea at all because without question she knows that Ingrid would say yes if you asked her.

[trentslocss]

game was rigged lol

trent alexander arnold is hope you’re there consoling vvd and gakpo or i’m not speaking to you k bb

[kaythefloppa]

"Go to hell" is basic. "I hope your favorite show that ended or was supposed to end naturally regardless of quality suddenly gets renewed for countless new seasons that soullessly milk it dry and sink the show's quality to unsalvageable levels whilst showing zero signs of ever putting the show to rest or letting it die like it should've " is smart. It's possible. It's terrifying. It has actually happened.

[weaverpop]

Azure giving attention and affection to Jing's baby bump?

Oh like you wouldn’t believe. Puurring, rubbing, humming, singing, swaying, nuzzles, little kisses, the whole nine yards for each and very baby!

You’d think Jing would hate it, but honestly it was a big help after his emotions and hormones started going outta wack. Azure and the others soon learn very quickly that it was the fastest way to calm Jing down.

Azure, purring and growling to an early preggo Jing’s belly: (prrrrr grrrrr)

Jing: “Stop it! They cant even respond yet!!”

Azure, dopily happy: “But Kitten it’s quadruplets!”

[uplayr94]

@simgm’s iconic Soda Drama video is already over 10 years old now, and I couldn’t resist turning it into a Sims 4 video with Mason Mount, Declan Rice and Kai Havertz with an EAFC 24 rating meme lol

[randomnameless]

I don't feel like IS is over-correcting. Even their character descriptions of Rhea, Edelgard, Claude and Dimitri are consistent with how KT wants them to be presented. Claude even uses strategies that he asked the villains about in Hopes and repeats the Edelgard rhetoric in Heroes as well. I'm pretty sure they just want you to like everyone.

Ehh,

That's where we disagree anon, it's all about the presentation.

KT, in Nopes, doesn't even give a voice to Rhea - she's wholly unplayable, un-support-able, heck you can interact more with random npcs than with her.

Dimitri? Zahras' demolished him because he cannot tell the other two kids they're asshats - and this is taking into account how Zahras Dimitri can happen after Mattias's death, or worse, Ingrid's!

Claude is someone noted for his ambition, but also his curiosity and a need/want to understand things, something Clout lacks - as he buys the information campaign, and showed more reaction to Macuil being able to talk than to Rhea turning in the IO !

And even Supreme Leader, to some extent, KT wants us to believe she's free and fights her own battles... but the end of Supreme Bullshit ends with Captain Falcon vs Dark Shadow, with Supreme Sailor Fuku (hell do I hate the sailor fuku, we came from the armored Emperor from the Post TS, even in her red dress she had more class, to that? A school girl uniform with metal plates? Seriously??) watching from the bench.

Yes they want us to like everyone, but KT has, in Nopes, imo, a very specific definition of what "everyone" means.

Dimitri kills soldiers who want to invade his land? BaD BaD BaD.

Supreme Leader marches on Faerghus, the Alliance and GM? It's just a normal sunday.

Rhea exists? BaD!

Point taken for Claude though, even if I have to check the jp script because FE Fodlan showed everyone you can't trust lolcalisations when it wants to lol-calise, even some scenes or lines from FE16 and FEH tend more to his Nopes!Counterpart than the one we ended up with in FE16 - even if the FE16 one isn't all roses and sunshine!

(but that'd imply both IS and KT intended Almyra to be... what it was shown in Nopes, and I had a bit more faith in them lol)

[aro-aizawa]

sighsss thinking abt my voltron aus again

[schadenfreudich]

Funniest thing about oversimplified eagles (either drawn or sculpted) is when they give them eyebrows. His wings are only a few feathers each and he is so angry about it. Sometimes they even give him fists, but he can't even punch anyone. Why would they do that to him?

[m00ntunaart]

2nd STARWARS/DAEMON AU POST!!!!! This time with the CC's and the Disaster Lineage!

Obi-Wan: Maned Wolf (Kee-Ayt)

Anakin: Lion (maned female lioness) (Asieko)

Ahsoka: Gryfalcon (Tuex)

Cody: German Shepherd (Beskar)

Rex: Siberian Husky (Queen)

Wolffe: Wolfdog (Whitefang)

Fox: Doberman Pinscher (Vulpe)

Bly: American Akita (Lyra)

LORE TIME: first off! Jedi! So I thought a lot about how daemons and Jedi should work. I did end up deciding that Jedi GENERALLY have bird daemons (like the witches in His Dark Material), BUT not always. The Jedi having bird daemons is not a ‘All Force Sensitives Have Daemons Who Settle As Birds’ thing. It wouldn’t make sense in this AU since Force-sensitivity is a spectrum and at what level would someone have ‘enough’ force-sensitivity to have a daemon for certain become a bird? I didn’t like that narrative as much, it felt restrictive. So instead Jedi tend to have bird daemons, but not Force-Sensitives. Like all Jedi are force sensitive ( and have bird daemons) but not all Force-Sensitives are Jedi, make sense? This is because of how the Jedi raise children and teach them to interact with the force. Because of how Jedi are taught to view and use the force, their daemons tend to settle as birds! It’s ‘nurture’ over ‘nature’ thing. Which is why (in this AU at least) the Jedi don’t take in older children to train. Because they’ve already probably learned their own way to interact with the force (different from the Jedi teachings) and therefore will have a non-bird daemon! Hence Anakin having a lion daemon. “But what about Obi-Wan?” (Well since Obi-Wan is one of my favorites I get to spice him up lol). He was originally very Jedi like (daemon wise) but after the whole Jedi Apprentice/Xanantos enslaving him/Melida-Daan war thing, he daemon ended up settling as a Maned Wolf! I imagine he was just about the age where his daemon would settle (usually 13-15, which is the same reason this is the age Jedi initiates are made padawans), so it was a surprise that his daemon so abruptly changed and settled. Most likely the effects of being so abruptly exposed to violence and war right out of being only use to the peace of the Jedi temple his whole life. 

(Extra) The 3rd page of the post! Cody and Obi-Wan’s daemons! Beskar and Kee-Ayt! Even though in my doodles Beskar seems to be very grumpy and even hatful towards Kee-Ayt, DO NOT BE FOOLED. Beskar adores Kee-Ayt. Their relationship just mirrors how I headcanon Cody’s and Obi-Wan’s. Where they will harass and bitch at each other to hell and back. Sounding from the outsider’s POV like two people who hate each other. When in reality these two are joined at the hip and love each other. They just will never admit it because “we have reputations to uphold!’ (Anakin says “what reputation? the reputation that one of you would murder the other if it wasn’t for the fact the GAR would court marshal the other?”) But yeah, Beskar makes fun of Kee-Ayt’s long ass legs. The mini ‘comic’ is about how I imagine that since all the Clones’ daemons are dogs/canines, when they win a battles they have a ‘Victory Call’ where they all howl. Beskar offers for Kee-Ayt to join in, but Maned Wolves can’t howl. They do this thing called a Roar-Bark (look up a video it’s so loud). This is the first time Beskar hears Kee-Ayt roar-bark and it scared the shit out of her.

(Extra Extra) The 4th page of the post! This is mostly doodles of Rex, Anakin and Ashoka’s daemons (Queen, Asieko and Tuex). All three reflect the close relationship that Rex, Anakin and Ahsoka have. Hence Tuex nesting on Queen and Asieko trying to groom Queen (who doesn’t appreciate the rough lion tongue bath she’s getting). (In fact Asieko tries to groom Tuex and Kee-Ayt too, but Tuex is too small and Kee-Ayt just starts biting Asieko bcs she doesn’t appreciate the bath either lol). We also have Tuex dive bombing Asieko (a common occurrence whenever Anakin and Ahsoka bicker). Tuex also does this to literally anyone who slightly annoys him or Ahsoka. And lastly the little doodle of Rex and Queen screaming! Idk if you’ve ever seen videos of Huskies, but oh boy are they loud and dramatic. I think with all the stress and insanity Rex has to deal with leading the 501st, he and Queen often have therapy screaming sessions. They deserve to. 

(ALSO, I will be making follow up reblogs with lore/plot stuff for each individual character)

[sothisblessmysoul]

Different anon but I'd love to see Ashe just because I love him so much (a threesome sounds super fun tho hohoho)

(This is my first time writing this type of stuff so I didn't go the whole way. If this is bad I'm so sorry. Also this is long, probably longer than it should be, you've been warned)

[ Warning: NSFW; Handjob. If you squint there is some Top!Reader and Bottom!Ashe and praise kink, and Reader taste Ashe (does this get marked as a warning?) ]

༓ʚ Sweet Like Candy ɞ༓

Summary: Somehow Ashe was able to be talked into wearing a maid’s outfit by his partner.

Ashe Ubert is the kind of boyfriend that someone brings home to meet the parents, the one that any parent would want their kid to marry. He is sweet like warm honey and soft like marshmallows, and he is almost too sweet that it leaves you with a sugar rush, wanting more and more of him that is so indescribable that you can't explain it.

And, perhaps that sweetness that makes you crave more of him is why you take guilty pleasure in teasing him. To see what his limits are, to see him melt into your hands like chocolate left in the sun for too long, to see him come undone. Like right this very moment as he stands in front of you with a fluffy innocent looking maid uniform with bright blushing cheeks.

His heartbeat was racing as Ashe looked into your eyes, slowly taking in his appearance. The silence in the room was far too quiet for his liking, praying with each breath that the silence would break it, say something, or do something. As if knowing how Ashe felt, you finally spoke, “Come here.” It felt awkward to walk in the uniform almost like he was relearning how to move properly but Ashe took no time to move closer to you who learned against a sturdy wooden office desk.

Your eyes take this moment to look at him closer in an attempt to burn this memory into the back of your mind. His freckled cheeks are flushed in a beautiful shade of red and yet despite the obvious bashful expression, Ashe stares at you openly with love. “Such a good boy,” You hummed, grabbing his hips to bring him even closer to stand in between your legs as the weight of Ashe’s body pinned you against the desk. Ashe sighed shaky, those words making a shiver run throughout his body. One of your hands stays on his hip, rubbing little circles as the other hand reaches up to grab the back of his head, fingers taking hold of his hair to guide Ashe down to your lips for him to claim. 

His lips taste sweet. You think, wondering if the rest of him is sweet too, is a follow-up thought as your tongue against his bottom lip to ask for entrance. When his lips part to allow your tongue to slip in, take that moment to tug on his hair that your fingers were still holding on to. Between your skillful tongue and the pull of his hair, Ashe whimpers quietly. But not so softly that it went unnoticed, making you pull away to smirk up at him, watching how out of breath Ashe is.

Using the hand that was still holding the back of his head to roughly tug Ashe’s hair so his head would go leaning back giving you perfect access to his neck that you began to place wet kisses on. The whole time that this was happening, Ashe welcomed it, each kiss and hair tug making him sigh in pleasure with goosebumps dancing on his skin. Neither you nor Ashe knows if it is subconscious or not but Ashe’s body automatically started to grind his pelvis against yours, letting you know how aroused Ashe is as his hands squeeze and clench your upper thighs. 

The friction that Ashe is making with you made both of you groan. You stop kissing him to now directly impatiently palming him through this maid uniform with the hand that formerly tugged on his neck, as the other hand is holding tightly on Ashe’s hip still. “Where do you want me to touch you?” You whisper, still palming but with more added pressure. He is beyond hard at this point. “Show me.” 

When Ashe didn’t immediately do it, focusing more on the pleasure, you pulled away from touching him. The removal of your touch and warmth made him let out a tiny whimper. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” Ashe moaned breathlessly this time, it sounded so heavenly that you want to hear more of it. However, you waited patiently as possible as he forcibly stopped himself from grinding against you.

His body trembled a little and a blush that even reached the tip of his ears, Ashe slowly lifted his skirt to reveal the white stocking and garter underneath. You touch them, making sure to brush your fingers on the inner space of his thighs, close enough to tease him with the touch that Ashe desperately needs. With remaining willpower, he fully lifted the skirt higher up to his hips this time, showing off the lovely white panties that looked on him that clung to the fully hard erection, the tip of its head peeking out from the panties.

“Such a good boy,” You whispered, staring at his length that you slowly reached out to softly touch with both of your hands that gently pulled his undergarment off to fully expose himself. Ashe shivered from the cold air that touched him, hands tightly continuing to hold the bottom ends of the maid uniform. Struggling to not let go of the skirt, to not reach out and take both sides of your face with Ashe’s hands to pull you roughly for a deep breathless kiss. Ashe wants to kiss you so deeply that it hurts to breathe.

But before the young man gets lost in thought, a deep groan escapes from his throat when your hand takes hold of his length. Soon, in a sort of pattern and rhythm, you moved your hand to stroke him up and down. Everything about him is beautiful from his heart to his personality and physical features. You want to ruin this sweet man. Ashe began to thrust into your hand that’s stroking him, adding more pressure and speed to the movement. He is panting with delicious-sounding moans, getting lost in the pleasure. 

“Your moans sound so pretty.” His eyes lock on to yours after hearing that, attempting to keep eye contact but when you twist your wrist in a way that he likes, Ashe’s head falls back and a whimper leaves his lips as Ashe’s body starts to tremble. “Please.” He whimpered, finally speaking in a whiny and needy voice. Ashe couldn’t take anymore at this point. He needed release badly now. 

“Please what?” You replied, cooing at him as if he was something adorable and slowing down the speed and movement of your hand. God, Ashe was so close. Just needed more attention, more of your touch to him, just anything that you will give him. “Beg for me. Beg for what you want.” “Please let me cum.” Ashe sounded as if he was close to tearing up from the teasing because despite you stopped stroking Ashe, you would rub the tip of his length with your thumb, giving it the right amount of attention so that it begins to release more pre-cum. 

“As you wish.” You smiled, removing your hand from his length to spit your saliva on the palm of your hand to act as lubrication as your hand soon returned to touching him again. It did not take long for your hand to pick up the same speed and movement from earlier as Ashe had enough pre-cum to start to leak that which added more lubrication. Between friction and motion with your hand and Ashe thrusting violently into your hand, it’s not a surprise that he is coming to cum soon. 

Leaning upward to kiss him on the lips shortly followed with leaving kisses and hickeys from Ashe’s neck to shoulders, and even leaving some bite marks that leave him feeling weak in the knees. He groaned when you kissed and licked a new bite mark. Each moan, groan, and whimper from him makes you equally aroused that the place between your legs wants just as much attention. The image of Ashe in between your legs is so realistic that you could almost feel it. The sensation of his soft hair tickling the inner of your thighs as he begs to pleasure you that he’ll have to work till allowed him to touch you. 

To feel his warm wet tongue lick you so much that it is hard to tell whether it is his saliva or your juice. To have his callous slender fingers teasing your entrance hole, fingers curling in and out of you. The image makes a moan of your own to escape, lips parted and trying to not touch yourself because it has to wait, it needs to wait, as the desire to see Ashe come undone in your hand is stronger. 

The sound of your moan was the final push for Ashe as he stared at you with lustful but dazed eyes with his mouth open, panting. Impatiently he took hold of your wrist that’s stroking his length to make your hand grip Ashe become firm, increasing the speed that he is pumping and thrusting into your hand. His action had taken you by surprise since rarely does Ashe do this. The way that Ashe is making you touch, grip, and squeeze him leaves you to wonder if this is exactly how he touches himself and when he does it. Does he do it in his room? And that he pretends that his hand is yours, imagining you touch him in ways that Ashe might be too nervous to tell you. 

The thought makes you more excited as you feel Ashe coming with a full-body tremble and loud moan that the young man didn’t try to cover. Ashe’s semen spilled a little on the floor but most of it ended up on your hand, “Sorry,” He said breathlessly, burying his face in the crook of your neck only to whimper a little at your touch since Ashe is too sensitive at the moment. Even as Ashe needed a moment to breathe, he still placed very affectionate kisses against your neck while you had brought your cum covered hand up to your mouth to begin licking it clean, eyes locking onto Ashe's face who was blushing heavily at the sight. After making sure your hand was clean with a coy smile on your face, there were only two words offered. 

“So sweet.”

[slxthserenade]

Sylvain was born to pretty boy forced to himbo. That’s his fucking problem.

[paarksunghoon]

ok but jake forcing your thighs open while he eats you out bc you won’t stop shaking and closing them..

enjoy :)

***

Jake doesn’t know when to quit. He never has and you doubt he’ll ever learn. He stays up until the late hour to study his ass off and runs marathons during soccer practice. He never gave up following you around campus like a lost puppy until you agreed to go out with him and didn’t stop until he became your boyfriend. You really don’t know how he does it.

Even now, you don’t know how he hasn’t suffocated.

You’re a shy little thing, like a gazelle out in an open field where lions could pounce at any second. Jake’s forward personality startled you when the two of you first met. He was juxtaposed to your calmer demeanor, talking to you like he’d known you all his life whereas you tried your best to keep up with the conversation. When Jay, the soft spoken guitarist in your economics class, said he wanted to introduce you to a friend of his, you weren’t quite ready for Jake’s boldness.

It’s 12am and you really should be getting sleep because you have a shift at the library in nine hours. Your boyfriend remains between your legs, however, tongue and nose buries so deep inside of you that the two of you might as well become a single entity.

Jake’s bold personality follows him when he’s kissing and touching you, hands wandering upon your waist until he’s pushing his hands down your underwear. It’s only been three weeks since he asked you to be his girlfriend and he’s been keeping himself in check whenever your breathy moans fan across his face when your lips are on his. Jake wants to fuck, but he’ll wait until you give him the green light.

Only, he’s so far gone right now that he doesn’t think he could stop now. You taste so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. Even from between your legs, he can hear the way your moans above him despite his ears ringing.

Jake tried to be gentle about it. He really did. But your body is too delectable and he’d rather die than never eat you out. It’s not his fault you’re too enticing. It’s definitely not his fault that your pussy’s so wet.

“Stay still,” he commands with his tongue against you, hands prying your thighs open when they shake against his head. He doesn’t let you say a word because he’s already diving back in.

You try to follow his directions and keep your legs as still as you can, but his mouth expertly moves across your hole like he’s always known how to push your buttons. Jake nudges your clit with his nose and you can’t help but close your legs shut around him.

Your boyfriend grunts and forces your legs open. His usual soft and gentle demeanor is replaced by something a little more primal, and you feel it in the way his fingertips grip your skin. It’s so hot—you finish right there with a loud screech and Jake laps up everything you give him.

You have a morning shift at the library in nine hours, but Jake’s so hard in his pants that it makes your mouth water.

Truthfully, you don’t know when to quit either.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ GN reader

Bakugou doesn't tell people about his home life, so you can imagine the Bakusquad’s utter surprise when they invite themselves over only to find out he has a little omega housewife waiting for him.

“Oh, hello,” you say when the four additional Alphas pour in through the door after your Katsuki.

They all look at you unblinking. The biggest one, a redhead, doesn’t seem all that surprised—as though he’d had some suspicion that’s now been laid to rest. But the other three, an electric blond, a guy with raven hair, plus a woman with cotton candy curls, look at you as if they’d just stumbled upon a mouse in a lion's den—all slightly horrified at the sight of you.

Your alpha, the tightly wound grump seething with annoyance, stomps over to you and plants a quick kiss on your hairline. “They just barged in,” he grumbles under his breath. “Sorry if we scared you.”

You hum calmly in turn, “That’s okay. I heard you yelling in the driveway, so I wasn’t surprised.”

The four members of the Bakusquad are all gobsmacked at the domestic sight—the boss, their boss, their hard-headed macho boss, bending over and apologizing to this little omega half his size.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, peaking over the breadth of his hunched shoulders to the others with a warm smile on your pretty face. “I just finished dinner.”

“No,” Katsuki growls grumpily and winds his arms around you—like an old, tired dog, voice gruff, “Uninvited intruders don’t get my dinner.”

You only giggle it off, brushing his stubble with a soft hand, gently handling him further down to your level so you could place a kiss on his other cheek. “Oh, stop, Katsuki. Be nice to your friends.” 

Then you walk off to the kitchen.

Calling out sweetly over your shoulder, “I went a little overboard, so there’s more than enough for everyone.”

And by god, if they don't fall in love with you right then before they’ve even got a single word out.

But love at first sight isn't all so strange. None of them have ever seen an Omega outside of on film—much less been hit with the scent of one. They're all bewitched and confused at the feeling as they trail after you as if they've been compelled by some higher power.

"Please sit," you smile, gesturing to the long table where only two seats have been made. "Katsuki, hon, help me, please"

They all scoot into each their unplaced seat while your big lousy Alpha begrudgingly helps set the table for the unwanted dinner guests. They remain silent as you serve them like the perfect homemaker—all crimson-cheeked and ashamed at how they sniff after you as you pass them by.

You sit just as brightly despite the awkward tension. "Please, enjoy."

They all obey, eating in utter silence—every single one of them trying hard not to stare—and all failing miserably.

Kaminari's the first to speak, having been left shaken by curiosity he no longer could contain.

"So... did he kidnap you, or?"

It's a fair question to some extent. Omega's are a dime a dozen, all regulated strictly by protective institutions. You can't just find one to mate like in the old days. You need to apply for one and be vetted—not to mention they cost a fortune.

"Denki!" Kirishima whisper-shouts in admonishment, shaking his head from across the table.

"What? I'm I the only one who's thinking it?" he throws his hands up and defends.

Katsuki's fist strains around his fork, but you lay your mit atop his, and he calms down shortly.

“Don't worry, Mitsuki and Masaru made the arrangements and paid the dowry," you giggle, running your hand through your Alpha's ashen hair with fondness in your eyes. "I was a graduation present of sorts. They worried Katsuki wouldn't take care of himself once he started working and thought having a mate might help him with his busy day.”

If Katsuki appreciates you spilling his business like that, he doesn't say anything about it—just continues eating.

Denki sighs and sags in his chair. “I always knew Bakugou’s folks were loaded. How nice...”

Sero grins, “Your jealousy is showing.”

Denki pouts, “I’m not exactly tryna hide it.”

"Yeah..." Mina pipes up. "Can't deny I'm jealous, too."

Sero's grin falls as well with his confession, "Yeah, me neither, actually."

You keep smiling sympathetically, "Well, you're all welcome here—I don't mind the extra company."

"Really?" Denki lights up.

Mina and Sero, too—in awe and in unison, saying, "She's an angel."

"Get yer own," Katsuki grumbles. "Now shut up and finish your food. Then you're leavin'—all of you."

"Oh, come on, man," Denki whines. "Have a little pitty for your fellow Alphas."

"Let's stay respectful, guys," Krishima buds in lightheartedly. "Think about what you're asking."

Then, rethinking the conversation, the other three all realized how it had sounded, even though they hadn't meant it that way. And they all blush even darker than before.

And still, you just smile—alphas are all so cute.

Especially your hyper-protective one.

♡ prequel ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[niccolites]

green cliffs: - lessons in mortality. chapter three

highlander!soap x fem!reader. cw dubcon. read here on ao3

You grab the nearest item in Johnny’s room and lob it at his head, which he dodges with an ease that sets off your temper again. It’s a cup and it shatters against the wall, a last gasp of dust that settles into the air.

“You are a right bastard,” you hiss at him, so angry that you shake with it. You had barely been allowed a moment to process what Johnny had announced - without consulting you - before you were being hustled out. Johnny’s arms a firm band around your waist as he brought you to his room, something that had almost set you off in the hallway.

You expect him to get angry at you, the way he did out in the woods. If anything he seems delighted, broad smile as he laughs at you. Dodges your next throw - a book this time - and catches you, sweeps his arms around your waist and hoists you up against him. “Am sorry, a am sorry,” he grins into the curve of your jaw, the hint of teeth before he settles on a smacking kiss as you squirm to get away from him. “A just couldnae contain masel’, I had tae tell ‘em.”

“There’s nothing to tell, what are you talking about?” you snap, thumping your palm against his shoulder to get him to relinquish you. His shoulder is hard underneath his white cotton shirt, firm muscle that flexes as he adjusts his hold on you.

He doesn’t. Just continues to laugh, as if you hadn’t even spoken, eyes sparkling as he seems to be caught up in some other thought. Let's go of you but you can’t go far before he has your head held in his hands. “My father will want a full ceremony, so we can make it official there, Am sorry that I announced it before, a couldn’t help myself.” He nudges his nose against yours, affectionate like he’s allowed to be.

“I don’t understand,” you whisper, a twist in your mouth. You think about your brother, think about how you are going to get back to him. You’re starting to think that maybe you were the one to leave the pitchfork in the hay and guilt curdles in your stomach, another mess for Ian to clean up after you. Johnny’s hands cradle the back of your skull and you think that you are stuck here. Walked into the maw of a lion and were surprised when it bit down and caught you.

“That’s alright, angel, I can sort everything,” Johnny soothes you, but it just raises your hackles more. He nuzzles his face into the size of yours, the bristles of his beard catching on your skin and leaving you feeling raw. He pulls back, just enough to nudge his nose against yours. His mouth is so close to yours, and he seems to realise this, blue eyes going half-lidded as he sways forward.

“Johnny,” you interrupt, and his breath hitches in his chest, a fine tremor running through him as his name sits in your mouth.

“A know, cannae help maself around you,” he admits, leaning back just the smallest amount, a hint of bashfulness that you narrow your eyes at. Like he’s putting it on. “I’ll go speak wae my da, see if we can speed up the wedding, yeah? Then we don’t have to be so nervous.” His eyes shine, as if caught up in a fever dream.

“Johnny, I don’t -” you start, but he gives you another kiss on your cheek and darts away before you can finish what you were about to say.

Maybe that is how he justifies this to himself. If he isn’t here to hear you protest, then maybe that means you aren’t protesting at all. You scowl around his room, wondering how much destruction you can get away with.

It’s messy, which is about what you would expect. An oak table in the corner with a few dishes on it, left behind presumably from the last time he left - you hope. His bed tucked into the corner of the room, rich red sheets, crumpled, as if he had left in a rush. You wander around, drag your hands down the wolf hide thrown over the armchair by the fireplace. Imagine yourself being here, living here. Dig your fingers into dead flesh, the give of fur that has been stripped from a living thing.

His blood is still under your nails. You suddenly decide that you need to be clean, need to be scrubbed down of any traces of the last couple of days and start anew. Maybe Johnny is like an animal, if you stop having his blood on you, he’ll let you go.

There is a metal basin in the corner, but there isn’t any water in it yet. You falter, uncertain as you look down at it. Then square your shoulders. If you were going to convince Johnny to retract his proposal - that was more skipping past proposal and straight into matrimony - you would need to be brave enough to at least ask for warm water.

You poke your head out of the room, trying to catch the eye of anyone wandering. A stout woman is wandering past with a basket on her hip, filled with sheets. You tentatively call out and she turns a questioning look on her face. “Hello, sorry to bother you. Do you know where I can get some water for a bath?”

The woman - grey streaking her hair even crammed into her bonnet - squints at your face for a moment before she glances at the room that you are poking your head out of. “Ah! Johnny’s bride, aren’t ya? Nae bother, lass, I’ll run and get ye some water just now.” She pauses, giving a frown at the general state of you. “I’ll grab ye some clothes as well, poppet, ye look a right state.”

She’s off before you can find the words to let her know that you are not Johnny’s bride. Not that you know to even begin to articulate such a statement. You wonder if you do protest too much, if you would just be forced out of the keep. Told to find your own way home then, if you were happy enough to rudely reject the heir. You know that you are to the west of your home, but the intricacies of the journey are lost on you.

You slink back into Johnny’s room and settle into his armchair, feel the fur of that dead wolf on the back of your neck as you sigh. Stare down the portrait of what must be one of Johnny’s old relatives on his wall.

The older lady is efficient, barely any time has passed before she is back, bustling in with a bucket of water that she sets by the fireplace and starts trying to spark a flame. Mrs Duncan, she introduces herself as she settles down on her haunches with a grunt. “Oh, I can sort that - it’s alright,” you start to say, standing from the armchair and hovering as if ready to take over.

“Nonsense, ye’d likely dae it wrang and then I’d have tae come back and do it fer ye anyway,” she says. The words are harsh, but the manner in which she says them is as if she hadn’t just insulted you. You bristle, beginning to frown. You’re interrupted when she catches sight of the rest of the room. “Ah, look at the state of this. See that boy, absolutely no shame, y’know if he expects a woman to be living here wae him, he cannae be leaving it in a state like this,” she tuts, fire catching finally and she bustles around leaving the fire to warm up the bucket and gathers up any of the dirty dishes that have been left behind.

You twist your mouth, trying to hold back a scowl. Mrs Duncan is gone again anyway, returning with another bucket. There is a constant stream of conversation, even if you aren’t contributing much to it. She has a nephew in the keep, the stablemaster, and apparently he is as messy as Johnny. You hum politely, nodding in the right places.

You jolt back to yourself when she stands you up, the buckets of now steaming water in the basin, reaching behind you to undo your cloak and tossing it at her basket of sheets. “I can do that myself,” you yelp, stumbling away from her as she reaches for the stays on the front of your dress.

Mrs Duncan pauses, watching your wriggle away from her. She looks a moment away from protesting and yanking your dress off anyway, but the mullish look on your face pulls her up short. “No need to be prudish around me, poppet, I’ve seen all sorts in this place. I’m sure you haven’t got anything that would concern me,” she tells you, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not - I just would rather sort myself out,” you manage. Her face doesn’t move. “It’s been a long couple of days, I just would prefer to.” She relents at last, a gust of a sigh before she scoops up her basket and leaves. You are left with firm instructions to leave your ruined dress by the door and put on the new one she brought for you - a pointed pat on the fabric that she has laid on Johnny’s desk.

Alone again, you tip the water into the deep basin, watch the steam wrap up in the air. It catches on your face and sticks, curled into the curve of your cheek and leaving behind the faintest of moisture. You yank your dress off, finally taking stock of it. It is ruined, Mrs Duncan hadn’t been exaggerating. Blood and muck and dirt, the skirt torn at the edges slightly. You hope that Mrs Duncan doesn’t toss it away, it had been your favourite for a while. You wonder if she would notice if you managed to get it cleaned in the bathwater after you were finished. Something tells you that you are unlikely to get away with it.

There’s more water than you’ve ever seen here. Usually, there is a single bucket that you manage to heat up and tip into the basin that you and Ian had been using since you were young. You suppose this is Johnny’s bath, and must be large enough to accommodate him. Deep and forged with a thicker metal than your basin back home.

Standing in your slip, you gnaw on your lip as you watch the door. There is an overwhelming urge to be cleansed. Some sick combination of Johnny and those Englishmen’s blood has seeped through your clothes in some places and have stained your hands, your legs. Your skin crawls with the need to scrub it off. However, the fear of Johnny coming back to his room and finding you naked is enough to give you pause before you jump into his bathtub.

You pause, twisting bare feet on the cold stone of his floor, as if you have created the time in which he will come back in. A few beats pass. If he comes back, which is unlikely, then you will just ignore him, you decide. You tug the filled basin slightly around the corner just in case. Childishly hoping that he may not notice you now at all if he does come back.

Your slip comes off and you sink into the warm water, groaning at the feeling. You dip yourself down fully, suspended in water for a moment before you pop back up, reborn again.

You scrub at yourself with your nails, dig off grime and blood. There’s a hardened piece of animal fat, soaked in a sweet smelling oil that you imagine is Johnny’s soap. You scrub yourself with it, an old version of yourself slicking off and sitting as a filthy film in the water. You dig into your hair next, lather and rinse until your scalp stings.

Perhaps you overindulge. Lie with the rim of the basin digging into the back of your neck and stare at the ceiling for a little too long. You think that the more likely reason is that Johnny is able to sense that you are naked and comes running.

The door opens and you flinch, sinking further into the water. The liquid surges, almost capsizing over the sides at the startled movement. Johnny flies in through the door and stutters to a standstill, almost hurling over himself at the sight of you. Blinks and breathes through his mouth, a faint wheezing noise.

You sink further into the water, cradling yourself as if to hide from his view. “Could you be a gentleman for one minute, and leave so I can get out?” You ask, trying to sound firm, but it comes out as a faint plea that makes you wince. Your plan to ignore him has fled, he commands too much attention, too much of your attention.

He barely seems to hear you, eyes focused on the flesh he can see through the water. As if entranced he stumbles towards the basin, distantly starting to tug his kilt out of the pin at his chest. Slow at first, then faster as his chest starts to heave.

“What - Johnny !” you exclaim as he strips off with an eagerness that almost throws him into a wall before he’s bare and striding towards the basin. He’s all muscle, built with no give in him. There’s hair over his chest, thinning to a line down his belly that has you averting your eyes with a flush. “I can get out -” you start, one hand still trying to cover yourself while the other tries to find some purchase on the edge of the basin.

You’re lifted up by your arms before you can stop him, squealing as he all but jumps into the basin and drags you down on top of him. Water sloshes everywhere, you hear the slam of it on the floor as he gets settled. It rocks around the two of you for a moment before it finally starts to settle.

Flesh squeaks against flesh, your breasts pressed against his chest as he holds you still until he’s sat down, you half-cradled into him. A familiar position, although it irritates you a lot more than it did in the saddle. You wiggle, trying to struggle free but it only makes him groan, hands seeking out the expanse of your back to grip, making you still. “This is inappropriate,” you hiss, feeling something twitch on the soft skin of your belly. Animal panic, the kind that makes you want to buck and kick him away but also freezes you in place.

“You’re the one who’s bare in ma bedroom,” he points out, hefting you further up his torso so that your faces are pressed together before you lean back. He almost goes cross-eyed, trying to take in your face as well as the press of your chest against his. The hair on his chest is wet, flattened down but it still tickles when you shift slightly. Fine but dark, plastered to tan skin. A freckle on his shoulder that catches your attention before you drag it back again.

“I was taking a bath,” you try to justify yourself. He hums in response, smoothing his hands up and down your flank. A hand up your side to glance against the side of your breast which makes him groan. “Johnny, we’re not even married yet - this is so inappropriate.”

He laughs at your scolding, dipping his head to press a kiss to your cheek and then bites at the apple of your cheek. Light, more to feel you jump under his hands more than anything. “We’re no’ swiving,” he points out, nose in the wet of your hair. “We’re promised, a reckon the Father wouldnae look too harshly on us fer getting tae know each other.”

“I would,” you snap.

“Ye look like a water nymph,” he murmurs, half-dazed as if he had been struck. Half the water is out of the basin, leaving your back cooling in the air. He's like a furnace, against your will, you instinctively curl into him, try to keep warm. His hands are grabbing at your back, as if he wants to touch all of you at once.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to get up again. Palms flat on his shoulders, try to use this momentum to force yourself up, but he all but yanks you back down. Your hands barely cover the breadth of his torso, small as they curl into his collar.

He sighs against your temple, a groan trapped in his chest. He bucks against you, forcing you still again and you feel him slide against your belly. “Ah, fuck,” he mutters. “C’mon, c’mon.”

You don’t know who it is that he’s speaking to, feel the kick of his leg as he braces you against himself, the rock of his hips against yours. Flesh and water, feel the lap of it around the curve of your waist. His breath is hot against the skin of your cheek, your scalp, your neck. He digs his fingers into your backside until you flinch and whimper which just makes him moan even hotter against you.

You hold tension in your back until you can’t, a twinge in the muscle. You deflate, let yourself sag into Johnny as pants into your ear. There’s a coil in your belly, has you tucking your head into his collar, waiting it out.

The sight of you giving in must be too much, you feel the same wetness from the forest only this morning, kick out onto your belly. The water likely washes it away, but you feel it like it’s branded you. He whines your name out, sounding pained. The sound of his punched out voice has something in your belly clenching, even as you ignore it.

His hands are still rounding over the curve of your backside, but you let him. Decide to save the energy for something else you will need to argue about. There’s a red scratch hidden in the scratch of his beard. You lift your hand and thumb over it. He hisses slightly, but you feel his cock kick at the feeling. “This from those men?” you ask, voice hushed.

The quiet of your voice seems to catch his attention more than you’re yelling does. Attention stretched to you, catching each word in a tight net. “Aye,” he murmurs, turning his head as much as he can without shifting your thumb from the bolt of his jaw. His eyes are half-lidded, but alert when pointed at you. His hair curls into his forehead, dark and soft looking.

You twist your mouth, study that small scar. There had been a fight in your village once, daggers drawn between two men. One of them had cut the other across the throat, you remember the spray of blood, vicious, like it was escaping. A smooth arc in the air before it landed, the horrible choking that had followed. Blood spraying, gurgling as if it had changed its mind and wanted to stay instead.

One of the men must have had a dirk on him, must have caught this a little before Johnny had dealt with them. You imagine if the Englishmen would have cut your throat in the same way, if your blood would jump out of your throat, or stick close by you, dribble down and stain your skin instead.

You sigh, and drop your hand. Evidence of the hurt Johnny has earned himself is enough to quiet you, leave you ruminating over him. It’s distracting, being naked on top of him, everything that has you reeling at the impropriety of it all. Then, there is the scar on his calf, the cut on his jaw. Marks of hardship. For you.

Johnny nuzzles his nose into the space between your ear and your hair, inhaling loudly. “You use my soap?�� he murmurs. You nod and he sighs happily again, you ride the wave of his chest deflating beneath you. “You smell like me.”

Even though you had been the one to use his soap, it’s another branding mark. You’re spared having to make some kind of response, another justification for your behaviour, as a fierce shiver shudders through you. Johnny may be a burning furnace under you, but the water is tepid now, and most of your body is left out of the water to the cool draught in his bedroom. He laughs at you, wrapping his arms around more of you as if to catch your shakes. His chuckle is a boisterous thing, starting in his lungs and bursting out. A nice sound, you imagine, if it didn’t always seem to be at your expense.

“Up we go,” Johnny hums, his hands scooping you out of the water like a messy toddler. Water cascades again but the mess was already there, so you barely give it any notice. Your feet almost slip on the stones but it barely matters with how Johnny won’t let you go.

You cover yourself as best you can with your hands, Johnny frowning at the sight as he holds the towel that you need. You frown back at him, one hand holding your breasts from sight, the other crossing your belly to cover the crux of your thighs. You can’t reach a hand out for your clothes without exposing yourself. Johnny seems to realise this and his fists tighten in the cloth, expectant grin. Open maw.

A heat in your cheeks, but you rationalise that he has already seen most of your body anyway. One hand still holding your chest, the other reaches for the towel. Johnny snaps his arms around you again and lifts you against him, something between a snarl and a laugh as he drops his head to your collarbone. “Can I get dressed, please?” you hiss, cold and irritated.

He presses a harsh kiss to your skin, beard catching and scratching at your skin, amused at your annoyance again. “Aye, my dear,” he smarms, letting you take the towel from him. You dart away, but you think that he lets you, more than capable of crossing the distance with a few strides and yanking you back into him. The towel must be his, large enough to cover yourself from view but also catch the damp of your hair as you tousle it dry.

You glance over your shoulder at him, and find him watching you, eyes suddenly sharp, taking you in. “What is it?” you ask, hiking the towel further up your chest. He’s still naked, dripping water shamelessly on the floor, adding to the mess.

He’s quiet, which immediately sets you on edge. Appraises you, eyes darting between yours, then all over. Silent. His size had been an annoyance, but you suddenly understand how those Englishmen must have felt when he came at them. You’re standing, a drenched cat, in the shadow of something much larger than yourself.

He still hasn’t dressed again, just watches you with water droplets all over his chest. The flex of his waist as he inhales, the twist of muscle there, seeming to flex as your gaze drops there. Everything in reaction to you. You refuse to look any lower, drag your eyes up and frown at his face.

Whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he takes a step forward and cups your face in his hands. You startle at the heat of his palms but he doesn’t let you go anywhere. Leans down and kisses you before you can stop him.

Strange to think that this is the first time that you’ve kissed, everything is out of order. You have only been kissed once, with the butcher’s boy who was a few years older than you, and had been sweaty. He’d tried to put his hands up your skirt and you had pushed him into the dirt and stormed off. You don’t imagine you could do that to Johnny, likely he would drag you down with him.

The sweat has washed off of Johnny, but you barely have any time to discern the press of his lips before they’re opening and you’re gasping, a revelation. His tongue in your mouth, licking into you like you were meant to be tasted. His thumbs on your temples, the span of his fingers cradling your skull. Held in place as he groans and licks further into your mouth.

There has to be something blasphemous about this, something unholy. There’s nothing appropriate about Johnny’s spit spilling into your mouth until it slicks in the gaps between your panting mouths. Spills down your chin as he tilts your head back to reach more of you. His tongue on the back of your teeth, the space between your gums and your teeth. A place that you thought only you knew about.

You’re frozen until you sway into him, head heavy in his hands. He doesn’t seem to require much reciprocation given he’s in your mouth, but you tentatively lick back, try to slide your tongue against his and you almost shy away from how loudly he moans at that.

He pulls back, just enough to seal his lips around your tongue and suck for a moment, eyes heavy on yours. Filthy. He pulls his head back enough to let you catch your breath, but now he just rests his forehead against yours. You blink at him, bleary. His spit, or yours, on your face. His spend on your stomach. Water everywhere else, but it doesn’t cleanse like you thought it would.

“Ma da wants us tae have dinner wae him, tonight,” Johnny murmurs, thumb smearing the spit across your chin. Pupils blown, swallowing up the blue.

“Alright,” you whisper back. He hums in response, as if considering kissing you again. “I should get dressed.”

His eyes flicker back to yours, silent again. His hands bracket your neck now, hands spanning across your collarbone. A beat. Then: “I’ll see if we can get the priest over here in the mornin’.”

You aren’t left any room to argue, before he’s crowding you into another kiss and pulling back with a smack that disturbs you. A string of spit between your mouths that pulls until it breaks. He’s across the room, yanking on his white linen shirt and is out of the door with his kilt held in hand.

You shuffle, uncertain, dripping wet in a strange man’s bedroom. The water spreads over the stone floor, catches in the divots and speeds up. There’s the smallest hole in the mortar, the water spilling towards it.

You drop your towel over the gap and step over the mess to get dressed. If the water wasn’t going to clean you out, you weren’t going to let it escape before you could.