Okay guys I haven’t posted anything I’ve written on here in years, but this summer I’ve been obsessed with getting my ideas out of my head and I’m just wondering, who would be interesting in reading my stuff again? All my other written fanfics on here are from when I was a literal teenager so I promise I’ve improved.
I have a few long projects sitting in the tank right now and while none of them are even close to done I have a few beginning chapters finalized for a Bakugo x Oc I could put out if anyone’s interested. Help me settle the internal debate of do I post or not please!
marvel au
bucky x blackwidow!reader
You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.
Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, dry humping, grinding, soft dom vibes reader, soft sub vibes bucky, bucky is touch starved, premature ejaculation, reader has dubious methods of emotional control, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, mentions of red room, very consensual, safe words, kissing, panic attacks, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, mentions of past violence, death and war, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything
Word Count: 8.4k
A/N: hey guys, i'm a woman possessed. i've had so much motivation to write recently, so here is a quick one-shot. i'm sure this concept has been done before but i just couldn't stop thinking about touch starved bucky :( ! sorry for any typos - not proof read.
main masterlist | series masterlist
You never would’ve agreed to this mission had you known Barnes was going to be this squeamish. You’d seen the man slit throats without a sound, drop bodies with cold efficiency, and unload an entire chamber of bullets without so much as flinching. He hadn’t even blinked when aliens from outer-fucking-space rained hell upon Earth. But holding your hand? Letting his fingers brush your waist? Anything a devoted ‘husband’ ought to do? The super soldier looked like he’d rather swallow glass. He couldn’t even meet your gaze, for god’s sake.
What the hell had Fury been thinking?
You had to yank him away before anyone noticed the strained—Help me, I’m being held hostage by this incredibly attractive, incredibly capable woman who, might I add, is supposedly my wife—look on his face.
This gala, a weeklong jerkfest for the wealthy and villainous, was meant to be a stroll in the park. Your bread and butter, even if the Red Room had been... regrettable and against your consent, it had taught you an array of useful skills. Yet Barnes was ruining it, turning what should have been a simple infiltration into a goddamn babysitting job. The plan was airtight: pose as a glamorous Russian couple, collect incriminating evidence, and dip at the end of the week. Except Barnes wasn’t holding up his end of the deal. Instead of charming your way through the crowd, you were covering for his stiff, awkward pauses and the fact that he looked less like a besotted husband and more like a man being forced at gunpoint to stand beside you.
By some miracle, you managed to drag him away to one of the empty floors, a tucked-away space littered with stacks of unused tables and chairs. He was wound tight—shoulders squared, jaw clenched, eyes flicking across the dimly lit room like he was expecting death itself to emerge from the shadows. You didn’t bother with subtlety. Tearing the small recording device from between your tits, you fumbled with the button until the tiny red light blinked off. Whoever ended up reviewing the footage later wouldn’t need to hear the verbal onslaught you were about to unleash.
“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, keeping your voice low, though the sheer force of your frustration was enough to strip paint off the walls.
Barnes clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as he refused to meet your eye. It reminded you of a scolded dog, all pouty and pathetic. You might’ve found it cute under different circumstances. “You’re making this incredibly fucking difficult.”
“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal—”
“Because it’s our cover, Barnes.” you snapped, incredulous. “We’re supposed to be married, not some fucking timid virgin couple. PDA makes people uncomfortable; they look away, and we have less eye on us to, I don’t know—do our fucking job?”
Barnes looked down at his clenched fists, swallowing hard. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. The dangling diamond earrings you had hanging from each lobe tinkled slightly, and you ran a hand through your perfectly styled hair, resisting the urge to throttle him.
“You’re unbelievable. Fury should’ve just sent me alone—” you muttered, but the words barely left your lips before your eyes caught movement.
A group. Heading straight for you. Purposeful.
“Fuck.”
With haste, you tucked the small recording device back into your cleavage. Barnes noticed immediately, clocking your distress. His brows knit together, hand twitched toward the hidden knife tucked into his suit jacket.
“No.” You scolded. Catching his wrist, you guided it elsewhere—your hips. He stiffened instantly, making a noise of protest, but you kept him locked in place, pressing in until your chests brushed. Too close. Not close enough.
“Play along,” you murmured. “Kiss me. Now.”
“Wha—” His breath hitched, barely enough time to form a response before you rose onto your toes and sealed your mouth over his.
Barnes froze. Stiff beneath your touch, lips rigid like you’d just planted one on a slab of granite. He still tasted like toothpaste—spearmint—and the faint trace of his aftershave clung to his skin. If you’d been trying to salvage some believability, some small thread of natural chemistry, it was impossible now. It was like kissing a statue.
An aftershave-scented stone statue.
The passing group chuckled, one of them murmuring, amused, “Ah, young love.”
Maybe it was the murmured chuckles of the passing guests, or maybe Barnes had finally remembered how to act, because his grip on your hips suddenly tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with unexpected force. The silk pulled taut against your skin, trapping heat between you, and then—
A sound.
Low. Strangled. A rasping, utterly pathetic groan against your lips.
You barely had time to register it before something else stole your attention. In the tight press of your bodies, you felt it—hard, insistent, pressing against your pelvis.
Oh.
The realisation sent a flicker of shock through you, but you schooled your expression, keeping your face composed as you lingered just a second longer—just enough to ensure your audience was convinced. Then, finally, you pulled back.
Barnes didn’t move.
For a moment, he just stared, pupils wide and unfocused, a blissed-out haze dulling the sharp blue of his eyes. But then, like a lightning strike, awareness snapped back into him. Horror overtook his dazed expression, his breath hitching as he seemed to realise—
Did he just—?
You both looked down at the same time.
And there it was.
The medium grey of his suit pants betrayed him entirely, darkening at the crotch with an unmistakable wet patch.
You gaped, lips parting in stunned silence. No fucking way.
Barnes didn’t wait for a reaction. With the sheer force of a man fleeing for his life, he ripped himself from your grasp and marched away, stiff-backed and utterly silent, leaving you standing there, speechless.
—
It had been twenty minutes, and Barnes still hadn’t left the goddamn bathroom.
It had taken you all of thirty seconds to track him down, but the moment you found the door, it was locked. Of course it was. You twisted the handle, rattling it in frustration, then resorted to pounding your fist against the heavy wood—subtly, of course, but with enough force that he knew you weren’t going anywhere.
“Barnes.” You hissed his name through gritted teeth, pressing closer to the door. Nothing. Not a shuffle. Not a breath. Absolute fucking silence.
You exhaled sharply, trying to keep your expression neutral as a pair of guests passed by, casting you a curious glance. Yeah, you knew exactly how this looked—lipstick smudged, breath uneven, standing outside a locked men’s bathroom like a woman scorned. You must’ve looked thoroughly debauched.
Your pulse hammered in your throat. This was insane. A simple, fake kiss had made him short-circuit so hard that he fucking came in his pants? Twenty minutes ago, he looked repulsed by the mere idea of touching you, and now he was hiding away like some panicked virgin?
You let out a long, slow groan, dropping your forehead against the door.
“Barnes,” you muttered, knocking again—your patience wearing thinner by the second. “Open the damn door.”
Silence.
You straightened, glaring at the wood as if you could will it into splintering apart.
“Barnes, I have been patient.” You gritted your teeth, knocking harder. “If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I will break in.”
Silence.
Motherfucker.
"Alright, I’m coming in," you announced, your voice low but firm.
You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, ensuring no one was watching, before slipping a bobby pin from your hair. Years of practice made the process effortless; your fingers worked quickly, blindly, jamming the pin into the lock and feeling for the mechanism. A few precise twists, a satisfying click, and—
"Make sure you're decent, Barnes—"
The words were halfway out of your mouth when you pushed the door open, but whatever half-hearted joke you'd meant to make withered before it even reached your tongue.
Barnes was not decent.
Not in the way you’d expected.
He sat hunched on the closed toilet lid, head in his hands, his entire body drawn in tight like he was trying to fold in on himself. His knee bounced erratically, the rapid motion almost violent in its rhythm. He had ripped off his suit pants, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, his bare thighs tense, twitching. His fingers dug into his hair, gripping at the strands like he wanted to rip them out, and when his bloodshot eyes flicked up to you—
You felt your stomach drop.
Panic. Raw, unfiltered, choking panic.
Tears welled along his lash line, his chest rising and falling in uneven, barely contained pants. He looked like a man caught in a cage, seconds from tearing himself apart just to escape it.
You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, and stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you before flipping the lock.
"Hey, Barnes…” Your voice was hesitant, softer than before.
He shook his head, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, his hands trembling as he dragged them down his face.
“I don’t—” His voice cracked, breaking on the words. "I don’t want you in—"
You moved before he could finish, lowering yourself to the cool bathroom tiles in front of him, as if making yourself smaller would make you any less intimidating.
"Hey," you murmured, tone careful but steady. "Look at me."
“No.” It came out sharp, like a whip, a defence mechanism honed over decades. His entire body went rigid, his breathing ragged.
“Barnes, you need to breathe.”
Your voice was steady, firm without being harsh, each syllable carefully measured as you crept forward on the cold tile floor. The dress, the dirt—none of it mattered. It wasn’t your dress, anyway. Tony Stark could foot the bill for a replacement if this one got ruined, all this fancy wear was on his dime.
“In through the nose,” you instructed, voice softer now. “Out through the mouth.”
By some miracle, Barnes listened.
He sucked in a ragged breath, chest expanding beneath his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, and then exhaled through parted lips. It was shaky, uneven, but it was something. You watched in silence, waiting. His limbs still trembled, his fingers clenching and unclenching against his thighs, but the worst of the violent, full-body tremors had eased.
“There you go,” you murmured, voice barely above a breath. “Keep breathing, just like that. You’re doing so well.”
Slowly, you inched forward, shifting across the tiles until you sat in front of his knees. His skin was warm, radiating heat even through the thin fabric of his boxers.
“Barnes,” you hesitated, watching his face carefully. “Can I touch you?”
His whole body tensed.
“What?” His eyes darted up, sharp and startled, as if the very question had knocked the breath from his lungs.
“Is it okay,” you rephrased, slower this time, gentler, “if I touch you?”
Barnes hesitated. His gaze flickered away, jaw clenching like he was at war with himself. But then, after a long, tense beat, he gave a small, stiff nod.
You inhaled, steadying yourself. Then, with slow, deliberate care, you reached out and cradled his face between your hands.
The moment your fingers touched his skin, he flinched.
Not violently. Not like he was afraid of you. But enough that you felt it—felt the way his muscles coiled beneath your fingertips, the way his throat bobbed in a hard swallow. The cool metal of your fake wedding ring grazed his cheek, and his breath hitched, like he had just been burned.
“Keep breathing,” you reminded him, voice low and steady. “Nice and slow.”
Barnes obeyed, dragging in another breath, and you felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The hard lines of his face softened just slightly as he leaned into your touch, nuzzling—actually nuzzling—against your palms.
“There you go,” you murmured, your thumb stroking in slow circles over his cheek. “Look at me.”
His eyelids flickered, resisting for a moment, but then those storm-blue eyes finally met yours. He looked exhausted. Frayed at the edges. But grounded, at least. Present.
“Tell me one thing you can smell right now.”
Barnes blinked. A hint of confusion crossed his face. “Smell?”
“Yes, smell.” You nodded, keeping your voice soft, coaxing. “Just one thing. Keep breathing and tell me.”
He hesitated but then took a deliberate inhale through his nose, his bouncing knee slowing. “I guess… whatever shitty fucking chemicals they use to clean this place.”
A quiet laugh left you, your thumb tracing a swirling pattern along his cheekbone. “Good. You’re doing good, Barnes. Now, tell me two things you can feel.”
His breathing had steadied, his inhales and exhales falling into rhythm with yours. For the first time since you’d walked in, he wasn’t shaking as badly.
“This suit jacket,” he muttered after a pause. His metal fingers twitched against the fabric at his arm. “It’s too fuckin’ tight. They always are with my arm—”
His breath stuttered, his body tensing again. Immediately, you leaned in, close enough for him to feel your warmth. “Just breathe, remember? You’re doing so well. One more thing you can feel.”
Barnes swallowed thickly. His gaze flickered down, just briefly, before settling back on your face.
“You,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “I can feel you. Touching my face.”
“Good.” You nodded, thumb gliding over his cheek again. “Are you okay with that?”
“Yes.” He exhaled, and for the first time, it wasn’t shaky. “It feels… it feels nice.”
Something in your chest clenched at the confession, but you pushed it aside. You smiled at him, soft and small, and kept going. “Now, three things you can see.”
Barnes’ eyes scanned over your face, searching.
“You,” he said, still quiet, still certain. His gaze lingered on your mouth. “Your lipstick is smudged.”
"Two more," you breathed, keeping your voice calm and steady, resisting the urge to comment on why your lipstick was smudged in the first place. No need to remind him of that right now.
Barnes' gaze flickered across the small, dimly lit restroom. His body had almost fully relaxed now, his mind preoccupied with the task you'd given him.
"Uh…" He scanned the space, brows furrowing in concentration. "The awful wallpaper… and the sink, I guess?"
You nodded approvingly, finally withdrawing your hands as you eased back onto your knees. The cold tiles bit through the fabric of your dress, but you barely noticed.
"Well done," you murmured. "Now, how about we keep breathing and get you sorted, huh?"
At that, Barnes stiffened slightly. The panic that had been receding just moments ago flickered in his eyes again, his hands twitching where they rested on his thighs.
You reached out, grounding him with a gentle touch to his knee. Your voice softened even further. "I’m going to turn around and face the door. I need you to clean yourself up—use the sink, use the soap."
His throat bobbed. "But my—my boxers, they’ll get all wet—"
"There’s a dryer on the wall, see it?" You tilted your head toward the small, dingy dryer meant for hands. "Use it to dry them. Then get dressed, and we’ll head back to the hotel early, okay? Order some shitty takeaway, watch bad TV. Just forget about all this for tonight. How does that sound?"
Barnes blinked as if thrown by the simplicity of the offer. His mouth parted, closed, then opened again, his voice small. "Yeah. Okay."
"Good." You flashed him a reassuring smile before pressing your palms against the sink, pushing yourself to your feet with a small wobble in your heels. "I’ll be right here. Just let me know if you need anything. Keep breathing, alright? Everything’s okay."
Turning, you crossed your arms over your chest and faced the door, giving him the privacy he needed. You tried not to listen too closely. Tried not to glance at the mirror reflecting the scene behind you.
The rustle of clothing filled the quiet, then the tap sputtered to life. You leant your forehead against the cool wood of the door, closing your eyes as you focused on the steady stream of water, the faint squeak of the soap pump, and then the soft sloshing and scrubbing of fabric.
The sound of fabric wringing out echoed softly against the tiled walls, followed by the steady hum of the hand dryer sputtering to life. You kept your forehead against the door, listening as Barnes manoeuvred through the motions, drying his boxers first, then his suit pants. The wet fabric slapped lightly against the metal dryer as he held it up, shifting awkwardly as he worked.
You didn’t rush him. Didn’t make a sound. Just stayed where you were, giving him time.
Eventually, the rustling stopped. A sharp inhale, then the familiar slide of fabric as he pulled his clothes back on. The quiet click of a belt buckle being fastened. The creak of leather shoes shifting against tile.
Then—
Barnes cleared his throat.
You turned.
He stood stiffly, suit now back in place, though the fabric still carried faint traces of dampness. His jacket was slightly askew, his tie loosened just enough to be noticeable. You took a slow step toward him, scanning him up and down with a careful eye. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move—just stood there, watching you warily, as if expecting a comment.
You didn’t give him one.
Instead, you reached up, grasping the edges of his tie. He stiffened but let you work, your fingers smoothing the silk fabric, tightening it properly against his collar. His pulse thrummed beneath your fingertips as you brushed against his throat, and though he remained still, you caught the way his breath hitched slightly at the contact.
“There,” you murmured, satisfied.
You turned towards the mirror, angling yourself slightly to the side. Your reflection was a mess—lipstick smudged, hair slightly dishevelled. You sighed, wetting your thumb with your tongue before dabbing at the edges of the stain, then reached into your clutch to pull out a small tube of lipstick.
Barnes hadn’t moved.
You could feel him behind you, his body heat pressing against your back in the cramped space. His gaze was heavy, following your movements as you leaned closer to the mirror, carefully reapplying the pigment to your lips. You didn’t look at him. You just smoothed the colour in place, pressed your lips together, then capped the tube and tucked it back into your bag.
Finally, you met his eyes in the mirror.
“Ready to go?” you asked.
There was a pause. A hesitation. His jaw clenched for half a second before he gave the smallest of nods. “…Yeah.”
You turned fully, flashing him a small, knowing smile before reaching for his arm. He didn’t resist when you looped yours through his, guiding him towards the door. With an easy tug, you led him forward, your heels clicking softly against the marble floors. His arm remained tense beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Didn’t let go.
You glanced at him briefly, lips twitching into a small smirk. “C’mon, sergeant. Let’s get out of here.”
Barnes exhaled through his nose, shaking his head ever so slightly. But when you reached the bottom of the stairs, he followed without question, letting you steer him towards the exit, away from the crowded room—away from prying eyes.
—
A small, muffled whine stirred you from sleep. You blinked groggily, rolling onto your side as the cool sheets tangled around your legs. The plush hotel mattress dipped beneath you as you buried your face into the pillow, willing yourself back into slumber.
A low, panting groan cut through the silence, soft at first, then growing in volume. Your brows knit together, heart thrumming uneasily. Something about the sound was… strange. It wasn’t just a groan—it was strained, needy. Erotic.
Your eyes snapped open.
The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the dim red dot of the fire alarm and the faint reflection of the turned-off TV. You remained frozen for a few beats, your ears straining to catch the noise again. It came, louder this time—a choked whimper thick with desperation.
Was someone in the room? Adrenaline slammed into your veins as you rolled off the bed in one swift motion, bare feet hitting the floor without a sound. You had heard stories of creeps breaking into hotel rooms, preying on women while they slept. Had one made the mistake of picking yours?
Another sound. Low, breathy, utterly wrecked.
Your hand darted to the bedside table, fingers curling around the hilt of a knife, its leather grip smooth beneath your palm. Not even yours, Barnes’—
Barnes.
Your breath caught as your gaze snapped towards the couch, knife slipping from your grip and landing on the carpet with a soft thud.
There, bathed in shadows, was the writhing mass of the super soldier. His blankets lay discarded on the floor as though he’d tossed them off in his sleep. The two of you had agreed to take turns—one in the bed, the other on the couch—to keep up appearances. A stupid arrangement, courtesy of Fury and Stark’s meddling.
You flicked on the bedside lamp. The warm light spilt over the room, casting soft amber hues onto Barnes’ form. His face was twisted in torment, and his lips parted around quiet, breathless whimpers. Sweat clung to his skin, catching the glow of the lamp and highlighting the sharp lines of his body. His metal arm whirred faintly as he twitched, fingers flexing against the cushions.
Your stomach dropped when your eyes drifted lower. He was shirtless, his broad chest rising and falling erratically. The thin fabric of his boxers did little to hide the evidence of his dream—more than half-hard beneath the cotton. Was he really that big?
The realisation hit like a freight train.
He was having a sex dream.
Jesus.
You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. You should’ve looked away, should’ve given him privacy. But then his hand twitched, drifting downward—
“Barnes.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a blade.
He jolted awake, body seizing as his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he was utterly lost, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with confusion. Then his gaze landed on you—standing there in your thin nightgown, face unreadable.
His eyes flickered downward.
Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, panic flickering across his face as he yanked a pillow over his lap, shifting awkwardly as if that would somehow erase what had just happened. A string of curses left his lips, voice still wrecked with sleep.
You tilted your head, studying him. His expression wavered, part shame, part something else, something raw and vulnerable. You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers into your temples. There was a pattern here. A man whose body wasn’t his own, whose skin felt foreign, whose touch-starved existence had left him unravelling at the seams.
What in God's name was Fury thinking sending him on a mission like this—or did Fury not know? How could he not? That one-eyed bastard had a habit of knowing everything. Hell, he probably knew the colour of your underwear before you even picked it out for the day, the all-seeing prick.
“H.Y.D.R.A really did a number on you, didn’t they?” you muttered.
Bucky flinched. The words struck deep, sinking into something fragile beneath the surface. He didn’t say a word, just recoiled, fingers gripping the pillow so tightly his knuckles turned white. A moment later, he was scrambling off the couch, making a beeline for the bathroom.
“Barnes, we’re not doing this again. Let’s just talk—”
The door slammed.
Then, the soft click of the lock.
You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the wooden barrier now separating you. Asshole. You knew you should’ve been more sympathetic. Should’ve handled it differently. But after a long, exhausting day, dealing with Bucky Barnes’ second puberty was not on your list of priorities.
You stepped closer, pressing a palm against the door; your voice quieter now. “I know how you’re feeling.”
Silence.
You could picture him inside, hunched over on the edge of the bathtub, fists clenched, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. “I understand what it’s like to be in a body that doesn’t feel like your own.”
A pause. No response.
“It must be hard,” you continued softly. “Not knowing who you are. Not recognising yourself anymore. And then... feeling things you don’t understand.”
Another pause. This one stretched longer.
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of trying to navigate that.” The silence that followed was heavier than before. You didn’t push, didn’t say anything else. Just rested your forehead against the doorframe, waiting.
You had spent the better part of your life under the Red Room’s control, under Dreykov’s control. Every breath you took, every move you made, had been dictated by someone else. Orders given. Orders followed. It was all you had ever known. And then, one day, it was gone. Just like that.
You remembered the moment with eerie clarity: standing in the open air, staring out at the horizon, the sunset bleeding colour into a sky that suddenly felt too vast. The question had gnawed at you, quiet but insistent. What comes next? Who comes next? Because you didn’t know. You didn’t know who you were beyond a weapon, beyond a machine engineered for death and seduction. Two decades of programming, of conditioning, of being nothing more than an asset to be wielded and discarded at will. And then, without warning, you were handed something you were told was freedom.
But what did freedom mean when you didn’t exist?
There were no real records of your birth, no true identity to reclaim. The Red Room had scrubbed that away long ago, erasing every trace of the girl you had once been. No family. No home. No belongings that weren’t issued to you by those who had owned you. And yet, you were expected to smile—to accept this newfound autonomy without question, to embrace the illusion of a life you had no blueprint for.
But how could you, when you weren’t sure if the body you inhabited was even your own?
So even if Barnes thought you were bluffing and just trying to relate for the sake of kindness, he was wrong. Because you understood.
Terrifyingly well.
The difference was that you had refused to let it consume you. You had forced those feelings into the farthest corners of your mind, locking them away where they couldn’t touch you. Because if you let yourself linger on them for too long.
“Go back to sleep.” Bucky’s voice finally broke the silence, muffled through the bathroom door.
You sucked on your teeth, exhaling sharply through your nose. “Yeah, not happening.”
“I know the others give you crap about not dating, but you don’t have to let them pressure you,” you continued, keeping your tone light. “You don’t have to force yourself into a role that makes you uncomfortable. It takes time.”
“Back in the day..." His voice was quieter this time, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. “I used to be a real flirt.”
A humourless smirk ghosted across your lips. You could picture it, all smooth charm and effortless confidence. The kind of man who could wink at a girl across a dance floor and have her swooning in seconds. But that wasn’t the man behind this door. That man had been stripped away, piece by piece.
“I just don’t know anymore,” he admitted, voice raw. Your chest tightened. You could almost hear him weighing his words, picking them apart, and deciding how much of himself he was willing to give away.
“When I was the Winter Soldier... they made me do things.”
A slow, twisting knot formed in your stomach.
“It’s all… fractured in my mind,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Scattered. Broken.”
You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.
“I’m sorry,” you said, and you meant it. “I understand that. More than anyone. The Red Room… they didn’t just use us for assassinations and espionage.”
There. You had said it. Pulled a piece of yourself from the grave and placed it between you.
For the first time, the door cracked open.
Bucky stood there, dishevelled and breathless, still only in his boxers. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin, catching the dim hotel light, while his metal arm twitched slightly at his side. His hair was a mess—damp and curling at the ends, sticking to his forehead. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as if he hadn’t quite caught his breath, muscles taut beneath the weight of exhaustion.
“Why are you being kind to me?” he asked suddenly. His voice was rough, tinged with suspicion, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
You tilted your head, studying him.
“Because you’re hurting,” you said simply. “And obviously, you haven’t fully processed any of this.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Without another word, he turned and stalked past you, out of the cramped bathroom and into the main space of the hotel room. You followed at a slower pace, arms crossed as you watched him sink onto the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his metal fingers tapping restless patterns against his flesh palm. His body had settled now, no longer betraying him with signs of arousal. That part of the moment had passed, but the turmoil in his head remained.
With a quiet sigh, you slid down to the floor, settling against the base of the bed across from him. Your legs stretched out in front of you, arms loose at your sides as you let the silence settle between you.
“Have you spoken to Steve about this?” you asked after a moment, voice soft but firm. “Sam?”
Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “God, no.”
“Why?”
“I dunno,” he muttered, fingers threading through his damp hair. “It’s just... awkward. I feel like a fuckin’ schoolboy.”
You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “I could teach you.”
His eyes snapped to you, wary. “What?”
“I could teach you,” you repeated, voice steady. “How to make love. Fuck. How to gain control over your life again. You’re just sensitive; you need a bit of exposure therapy.”
Bucky’s expression darkened, jaw clenching. “Why the hell would you do that?”
You exhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the patterned carpet beneath you. “Do you know how many men I’ve fucked and not felt a thing?” you said quietly, barely above a whisper.
“I wasn’t just an assassin or a spy. Not like Natasha or Yelena. I was a swallow, Barnes. A honeytrap.” His expression flickered, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something, some hint of insincerity.
You swallowed, pushing forward. “It’s why Fury sent me on this mission with you. This is all I’ve ever known.”
Bucky’s breath hitched slightly, his hands curling into fists against his thighs. “Fury knows what they did to you, and he still continues to—”
“I agreed to it,” you cut in, your tone clipped, controlled. “He just wanted our sham marriage to be believable. He wasn’t asking me to fuck you, just to perform. That’s what I do. Perform.”
Bucky huffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
“Look, I don’t know you,” he muttered, voice low, rough. “I don’t want your baggage, or for you to fuck me out of pity or... I don’t know, self-sabotage.”
The words hit like a slap, sharper than you expected. You recoiled—actually flinched—before you could stop yourself. It wasn’t just what he said, it was the venom in it, the way he threw it at you like a blade meant to wound. And damn it, it did.
Bucky saw it, too. The way your shoulders stiffened, the flicker of something raw crossing your face before you forced it away. His breath hitched slightly, fingers twitching at his side, but he didn’t take it back. Didn’t soften the blow. Maybe he regretted it, maybe he didn’t, but either way, the damage was done.
Your expression hardened like cooling steel, every crack that had formed between you quickly sealing shut, any semblance of vulnerability buried beneath layers of carefully placed armour. It was instinct—second nature, really. You’d spent years perfecting the art of locking yourself away, of making sure no one could reach the parts of you that still bled. You’d built it, brick by fucking brick, until you were fully encased, isolated from anything that might harm you.
Bucky wasn’t the first to speak to you like that. Wouldn’t be the last.
You swallowed down the sting, inhaled slow and deep through your nose, and then let it out in a steady breath. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, devoid of emotion, a perfect imitation of indifference. “It was just an offer.”
Nothing more. Nothing less.
You held his gaze for a second longer, searching for something, anything, that might suggest he regretted it. But Bucky just stared back, face unreadable, jaw tight. Then, without another word, he turned away, stretching out on the couch with his back to you.
Fine. Message received.
—
The rest of the week had been nothing short of torturous. After the argument, the air between you and Bucky had turned to ice. The two of you barely spoke. Not outside of necessity, not outside of the roles you had to play. At the gala, he did what was required—he held you close, leant into your touch when needed, murmured sweet nothings in your ear to sell the lie. But you felt the restraint in him, the hesitance in the way he brushed a thumb over your knuckles, the barely-there tremors in his fingers when he smoothed a hand over your waist. It wasn’t as if he was walking on hot coals anymore, but there was still that same, underlying hesitation.
Back at the hotel, the silence stretched long and unbearable. Shower, eat, sleep—repeat. Conversations were reduced to one-word exchanges, curt and impersonal. At least by morning, this miserable charade would be over. You’d gathered the intel you needed at the gala, and in a few hours, you’d be free of this place. Free of this suffocating, awkward tension. Free from Bucky’s constant, looming presence.
God, the man had a staring problem.
You had noticed it before, how he always seemed lost in thought, his gaze heavy with some unreachable burden. You had assumed it was just brooding, the kind of silent, empty-headed angst that men like him fell victim to. But now you realised—he wasn’t staring through you. He was staring at you.
You saw it when you dressed for the gala, slipping into silken dresses and heels, when you pinned your hair into elegant styles, when you traced the lines of your lips with lipstick, perfecting the illusion. You’d catch his reflection in the mirror, eyes fixed on you, dark and unreadable.
Once, he had been so caught up in his daze that he nearly left without putting on his suit jacket. You had to press it into his hands, dragging him out of whatever spell he was under. He had taken it stiffly, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’ but the heat in his face was unmistakable.
And now, as you sat cross-legged on the bed in a loose nightgown, the fabric riding high on your thighs, the same damn stare was drilling into the side of your face.
The TV flickered before you, an incoherent blur of colours and sound. You weren’t even sure it was in English. It didn’t matter. You weren’t watching it anyway. You were too focused on not focusing on Bucky, who stared at the side of your face like he intended to burn a hole through the flesh.
You exhaled sharply through your nose, running your thumb over your knee. The sheets were soft, the mattress more forgiving than the couch you’d been forced to sleep on last night. At least tonight was your turn back on the bed, though ideally, you’d be back in your own apartment by now, wrapped in high-thread-count luxury courtesy of Tony Stark’s absurd wealth.
God, you missed Egyptian cotton.
Bucky was still staring at you. You couldn’t help it, annoyance, filthy and venomous came pouring out of your mouth before you could stop it. “What? Is there something on my face?”
Bucky startled, his whole body tensing as if you had physically struck him.
“Nothing—” he stammered.
You arched a brow, unimpressed.
“No. There’s obviously something you want to say.” You shifted on the bed, your frustration mounting. “Go on, spit it out.”
He hesitated, his jaw working like he was biting down on whatever words were lodged in his throat.
You didn’t let up. “You sure had a lot to say earlier in the week. What, do you want to dig the knife in further? You might as well just call me a whore while you’re at it—”
“I’m sorry.” Bucky cut over you, his head dipping. You paused, momentarily stunned. He was doing that thing again, where he looked like a scolded dog. Adorable, but not the fucking time.“I shouldn’t have said that, it was inconsiderate of me, especially after... after all you’ve done.”
You frowned. “You don’t owe me anything, Barnes.” The words left your lips quieter this time, but still firm.
“I snapped at you. And I shouldn’t have.” he admitted. His voice was low, restrained.
You let out a slow breath, pressing your fingers to your temple.
“It’s okay. I understand,” you said, a little softer. “I haven’t exactly been… the kindest either.”
A bitter chuckle escaped him, his fingers twitching against his knee. Then, after a long pause, he asked, “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Act like everything is okay. Like it’s normal.” His voice was strained, like he wasn’t even sure if he believed in what he was asking.
You let out a short, almost nervous laugh. “I’m probably not the best person to ask about this—”
“But you get it, right?” He looked at you now, something almost desperate in his gaze. “To not know… who or what you are? Sometimes I… I just want to be normal again.”
You frown deeply, weighing his words carefully. You understood his sentiment, but you knew it was futile. There had never been anything normal about your life—not anything you could remember, at least. The Red Room had seen to that. Your earliest memories were of drills, of ballet, of suffocating discipline, and of the erasure of self. Even now, you weren’t normal; you were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D for fucks sake, a woman barely pardoned of her crimes, existing in a liminal space. The world's governments couldn’t quite confirm you existed. You were a ghost, a fucking shadow of a person.
“I don’t think people like us get to be normal,” you said finally, choosing your words carefully.
His expression twisted slightly, like he had already known that answer but had hoped for something different.
“But I think,” you continued, “it would serve you a world of good if you let people in. Steve… Sam. You don’t have to face this all alone—Natasha, Yelena, and I look to each other all the time to process it all and patch together the missing pieces. There’s no shame in it.”
Bucky’s face creased, his body drawing in on itself slightly. You moved before he could shrink further, slipping off the bed and kneeling before him.
“It’s okay,” you reassured, voice steady. “Just tell me... what is it you need right now?”
His lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line. He fidgeted, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if struggling to force out something that had been sitting at the edge of his tongue all week.
Finally, he exhaled, jaw tight.
“I want to take you up on your offer.”
You tilted your head. “My offer?”
Bucky swallowed, eyes flickering to the floor before darting back to you. His voice was hesitant, low—like he was worried some invisible presence might have overheard. “Lessons. Lessons in… love-making. I want to be able to look at a girl without... you know. This fucking week has been torture seeing you—”
He cut himself off, warmth flooding to his cheeks. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it—light, amused, genuine.
Bucky stiffened, eyes widening slightly, horror flashing across his face as if he thought you were mocking him.
You shook your head quickly, reaching out to place a hand on his knee.
“Of course,” you murmured, smiling. “Thought you’d never ask.”
—
“Is this okay?” you asked softly as you swung your leg over, settling onto Bucky’s lap. The mattress dipped beneath you both, the quiet creak of the hotel bed the only sound between you for a moment. He sat beneath you, legs slightly spread, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. You dug your knees into the bed on either side of his thighs, anchoring yourself against him.
His breath hitched, sharp and uneven. “Yes,” he murmured, though there was a noticeable tremor in his voice, like he was still convincing himself.
“Just breathe,” you encouraged, smoothing your hands over his broad shoulders. His muscles were tense beneath your fingertips, wound tight like coiled steel. He swallowed hard.
“What’s worrying you?” You asked gently. “Is there something I can do to make this more comfortable for you?”
Bucky shook his head, a shuddering breath leaving him as his hands finally found purchase on your hips. His grip was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold you. “No,” he said, his voice rough.
“This is great, I—” He cut himself off, pressing his lips together in frustration.
You tilted your head, studying him, before offering a reassuring smile. Your fingers kneaded into his shoulders in slow, soothing motions, attempting to melt away some of the tension knotted there. “Talk to me,” you coaxed.
His gaze flickered downward, shame creeping into his expression. “I just… don’t want to embarrass myself. Again.”
Your heart clenched at his vulnerability, but you refused to let him linger in self-doubt. Instead, you leant in, your lips curling in a playful smile.
“You’re cute when you say things like that,” you teased, running your tongue over your lower lip before continuing. “Don’t worry about any of that. Just stay here, in this moment, with me.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he obeyed, focusing on the warmth of your body pressed against his. Slowly, his grip tightened on your hips, fingers kneading into the flesh more firmly this time. His thumbs traced cautious circles against the fabric of your clothing, testing. You let your hands drift from his shoulders down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
“Now,” you murmured, keeping your tone soft but steady, “if you get overwhelmed, or if you need to stop, what do you say?”
“Stop,” Bucky answered without hesitation.
“Good,” you praised, smiling warmly. “And if you can’t speak? If the words won’t come?”
His fingers flexed on your hip before he squeezed in a deliberate rhythm—three distinct beats. You nodded in approval. “Perfect.”
His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching.
“What about you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more earnest. “If you want to stop?”
You demonstrated by tapping three times against his chest, just over his heart.
“I’ll do the same thing,” you assured him. “Just like we discussed.”
For a moment, he just breathed. His lashes fluttered as he exhaled a slow, measured breath, his hands steadying against you. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he whispered, “I’m… I’m ready. I think.”
You smiled, fingers tracing a soft, reassuring path along his jaw.
“Okay. I thought we’d start with kissing, since you seem worried about it. Nice and simple, no pressure,” you murmured, your voice low and reassuring as your fingertips ghosted along his jawline. Bucky swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned into your palm without thinking, nuzzling it like a touch-starved thing. His blue eyes, dark as the ocean in a brewing storm, flickered with something hesitant, something fragile.
“I’m sure you kissed plenty of girls back in the day,” you teased, lips curling as you brushed your thumb over the sharp edge of his cheekbone.
“Oh yeah,” he exhaled, the words dipped in self-deprecation, “until Steve became… well, the Steve he is now. None of the girls spared me a second glance after that.”
You let out a soft laugh, breathy and genuine, and felt the way his body tensed beneath you at the sensation. It was funny how a man who could tear through steel and strike terror into the hearts of the world’s deadliest enemies could turn so shy at something as simple as your laughter.
“You know…” he hesitated, voice quieter now. “You were my first kiss since… well, everything.”
Your teasing grin faltered slightly. You tilted your head, gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips, close enough now that you could feel the steady heat radiating from his skin.
“Well,” you murmured, the ghost of a smirk curling your lips as you shifted closer, “now I’ll be your second too.”
And then you kissed him.
It was slow at first, a testing press of your lips against his, feather-light and coaxing. Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose, his breath hitching as though he was bracing for impact. But when you didn’t pull away, when you lingered just a little longer, he melted into you—hesitant at first, but eager.
His hands, large and trembling slightly, hesitated at your waist before gripping your thighs as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you or let you slip away. The warmth of his palms bled through the thin fabric of your nightgown, spreading across your skin like wildfire.
You deepened your kiss, tilting your head to slot your lips more firmly against his, and a quiet sound rumbled in his chest—halfway between a sigh and a groan. Encouraged, you shifted, rocking your hips, the new position pressing your bodies flush together.
Bucky tensed beneath you, fingers digging into your flesh instinctively as you settled against him. His own hips bucked in response, and you could already feel him growing hard against your inner thigh. He pulled back slightly, panting, his lips swollen.
“Am I doing… okay?” he asked, his voice rough.
You smiled, smoothing a hand through his dark hair, tugging him gently forward again.
“More than okay,” you whispered against his lips before capturing them once more.
This time, he kissed you back without hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring himself to you as he parted his lips, following your lead. You swept your tongue into his mouth, slow and purposeful, teasing along his lower lip before deepening it. A groan rumbled in his chest, muffled against your mouth.
You rolled your hips, grinding against him with a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the way his breath hitched and stuttered beneath you. Even through the layers of clothing, you could feel him—hard, straining, likely aching for more. His fingers dug into your skin, a bruising grip that only added to the heat blooming in your core.
You pulled away from his lips, shifting your attention lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down his neck. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, quick and erratic. He tipped his head back, surrendering himself to your touch, a quiet curse slipping from his mouth as you sucked at the sensitive skin below his ear.
“You’re doing so well,” you hummed against his skin, your voice warm and indulgent, laced with soft praise. His body trembled beneath you as he bucked his hips up to meet yours, desperate for more friction, more of you. You rewarded him with a soft, breathy moan, letting him know just how much you enjoyed this too.
“I—” He tried to form words, but they crumbled before they left his lips.
The tension in his body coiled tighter and tighter, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. His hands clutched at you, grounding himself in the sensation, like the overwhelming pleasure was building too fast for him to control. His breath came in short, needy gasps, his hips stuttering as he lost the rhythm.
“I’m gonna—” His voice broke, his head tilting forward as his entire body tensed beneath you. A strangled moan escaped him, deep and wrecked, as he came undone. His grip on your hips tightened, his thighs trembling slightly beneath yours as his climax overtook him. His body fell back against the sheets, a soft exhale leaving his lips as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.
You perched above him, still straddling his hips. For a moment, he just lay there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes were half-lidded, dazed, and his lips parted as if he had more to say but couldn’t quite form the words.
“I didn’t mean to finish so early—” he started, his voice hoarse, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and lingering pleasure. Leaning over, you flipped your hair to one side as your face hovered over his. You silenced him with a lingering kiss, slow and reassuring. He groaned softly into your mouth, still sensitive but already melting into the warmth of your lips. When you pulled away, his shoulders had loosened, the rigid tension gone from his body.
“You did so well,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel?”
“Good.”
You grinned, sliding off him and stretching languidly before settling back onto the bed. You exhaled, content. Bucky turned his head to look at you, still slightly frozen in place, as if unsure what to do next. His brows furrowed slightly. “What… what about you? Don’t you want to…?”
You snorted. “That doesn’t matter. This was about you, not me.”
He hesitated, clearly still unused to receiving something without feeling obligated to return it. “But I feel bad leaving you—”
“I’m fine, trust me.” You hummed, closing your eyes as you nestled into the warmth of his arm. “We have a long way to go before you need to be thinking about that.”
Bucky went quiet. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, unreadable.
For a moment, you weren’t sure if he would say anything at all. But then, after a beat of silence, you felt him shift beside you. A hesitant hand—warm and slightly calloused—ghosted over your arm before settling on your waist, drawing you in closer.
Hello everyone I'm writing a Fanfic for My Hero Academia, I hope you'll like it.
You can also find it on Wattpad: Amethyst. (Katsuki Bakugo x Reader) - AllisonBaelfire - Wattpad
-> I’ll reblog this post whenever I upload a new part!
Following the attack on the USJ, the public scrutiny intensifies towards the heroes, with particular focus on the youngest pro-hero and daughter of Endeavor. Despite nearly two years of hero work, she shall be attending the UA and will undergo official hero training.
However, she quickly discovers that being a hero was easier than navigating the complexities of a normal teenage life, especially when she finds herself falling for a stubborn, loud, and hot-headed blonde classmate while getting hated by her younger brother.
💠 Bakugo x Pro-Hero! Reader
💠 Reader is part of the Todoroki Family
💠 I don't own any of the Art!
💠 Characters and MHA belong to Horikoshi
💠 Storyline belongs to me
💠 I follow the Manga/Anime - Spoiler warning!
tfw when you take a job as an isolated lighthouse keeper to figure out what you want to do with your life and a injured fish boy washes up on your island but all you have is a dinky little first aid kit and you’re really not sure how you’re going to get him inside and into the tub so he doesn’t d i e
(yes technically this is the hurt/comfort prompt i had to add fantasy or my brain was gonna protest)
all I can think about is Viking!Bakugo, his family sets up an arranged marriage but he hates the idea, he prefers to be chief of his own village with no support and be able to do it all alone to prove his family wrong. As soon as his fiancé turns up, he sees you and all thoughts leave his head as he sees how pretty you are and how all eyes are drawn to you as they all thinking the same thing. He notes how standoffish you are and how you look like a born leader from the way you stare back at his villagers. He immediately falls for you and tries to court you in his own ways, giving you the best pelts, catching the biggest food and weaving bracelets with the brightest colours. 🫡🫡🫡🫠🫠🫠🫠
WAITING FOR YOU [10.5K]
— viking!bakugou katsuki x reader
SYNOPSIS: your new fiancé is ruthless, rude and stupidly gorgeous. after being forced into an engagement with him to keep peace between your villages, you need to find some way to get along or at least come to an understanding. it happens quicker than you think once you catch him bathing in his private lake.
WARNINGS: minors dni, 18+ scenes, female reader, princess/honey pet names, chief’s daughter, arranged marriage, fiancés, enemies to lovers, misunderstandings, handjob, fingering (f), face sitting (f), very very very light ass play, outdoors but private, yn has hair long enough to be in a bun.
NOTES: i think it is very funny that when i started answering this ask i apologised that i really enjoy this idea but i don’t think i would be able to bring it to life. 10000 words later and i think something is alive and kicking lmao thank u for sending this to me and i even did a little viking research for certain words but certainly do not take this as gospel lol defo viking old fashioned violent cottagecore aspects with modern day dialogue. i hope everyone who reads this enjoys because i spent a lot of time on this! i am realising all my au!bkg fics are all very long because so much more background is required before we get into the smut lol ANYWAY yeah thank u user titantears!
FOR YOU MASTERLIST! - yes there are more parts
bakugou katsuki is the chief of his village, the leader of his army and your new fiancé.
you’ve heard everyone talk about how what’s his is yours and yours is his. that’s what marriage is, two people coming together in unity but your marriage with this brute beast of a man feels anything but that. nothing is yours. you’ve moved to his village, living in his home, eating his food and adapting to his way of life. you can’t even say he is yours, in fact you wouldn’t be surprised to find out he hates you since he does everything to prove he does but say the words. at least you’ve got a beautiful shiny ring on your finger that you spend more time admiring than really understanding what it means. you’re tied to this stranger forever.
one thing you and the great bakugou katsuki have in common is that you’re both forced to marry each other. an arranged marriage between two wealthy chiefs of their villages. this chief in question is bakugou’s father although he is rarely seen around these days due to old age and bakugou stepping up in his place. your marriage arrangement is just a pact so both villages don’t invade the other and giving your life to this man makes it all worth it for the survival of your people.
you have seperate bedrooms and you have to see him for breakfast and dinner, his only term and condition. he’s somewhat civil when you eat, but all too soon conversations become snappy, leaving you to storm off and him clanging his utensils against his plate.
“so… what are your plans today?”
“nothing.”
bakugou grunts before silence takes over the room.
he tries again, “nothing at all?”
“there’s nothing here for me to do. why do you care?”
“you talk like your heads up your ass,” he snarls.
you fake a gasp, “just like you then?”
the most tender moment you could place so far was when you had to stand beside him when you were announced his fiancé to his people. the warrior that is often described as ruthless could barely look you in the eye, which shocked you to no end, though when he whispered softly, “i’m gonna hold your hand. is that okay?”
it’s like you were doused with a warm blanket after a cold day. you locked eyes with him for a second before whispering, “yes.” his people won’t stop talking about this moment, or how it came across to them.
though that moment is long forgotten the next day when you land the last word in another bicker with bakugou in front of his whole army. you know you shouldn’t have been out here but the best thing about your new fiancé was that he was easy on the eyes. so easy that if you didn’t have one of his servants poking you to get changed or to eat up or to do something, you’d be drooling all over yourself just watching him. this led to you sitting and watching him be a dickhead to his army, shouting at them to work harder, be faster, and to, if it was even possible, be more violent. his vulgarity should make it easier to snap your gaze away from him when he turns to face you though it doesn’t.
he’s dressed in tight black cloths, chunky silver jewellery around his neck and always, your pupils drift to the silver band around his finger. the item that connects you both together. he’s dressed casually compared to his warriors who are coated in layers of chest and leg armour. you know it’s another way to prove he’s better than them all, that whilst training them he doesn’t need it. though a sharp curved axe that is heavy to look at hangs by his waist as a threat. he doesn’t scare you though, especially with how attractive you find the hoop piercings littering his ears and the expensive stolen bracelets across his arms.
he bites at you, face like a sour lemon, “why the fuck are you out here? isn’t there somethin’ you can be doin’ indoors?”
“what is with you and telling me to do something? can’t i just watch you work?”
“it’s not interestin’ and it’s unsafe for you,” he’s annoyed, barking an order at one of his warriors right after.
you think the only thing that’s unsafe is the way he makes you feel when he gets too close, you know your skin is too hot to touch. you notice his warriors staring at him, confused at how he is yet to raise his voice at you and how you’re so okay with being beside him.
“how is it unsafe being around the people who’re supposed to keep our village safe, fiancé?” you taunt and he narrows his eyes at you.
bakugou bends his back to whisper in your ear, lips almost brushing your skin. “my men work so hard they barely see women, let alone ones as beautiful as you. you bein’ here is addin’ an extra distraction and job on my list.”
your breath hitches at the compliment, whispering, “distraction for them or you?”
bakugou doesn’t want to admit it yet he’s rising to his full height and ignoring the smell of baked goods that linger off your clothes. “both. now fuck off.”
“you need to learn some people skills if you want to have a wife, bakugou. you’re acting like a prick.”
bakugou rolls his eyes dramatically, tired of this conversation with you. his soldiers are watching the interaction intensely. they’ve never seen bakugou act anything but strict and merciless, usually solving his problems with violence. they definitely haven’t seen him blush in annoyance from a woman.
“i’ve never heard that one before, good job. now remove yourself before i do it myself.”
you bite your tongue, deciding to give up with this one though you can’t help but wonder how it must feel to get manhandled and thrown over his shoulder.
“you won’t see me at dinner,” you shout over at him, walking away.
“i definitely will, princess.”
he did end up seeing you, dragging you from your room over his shoulder and plopping you in the dining room.
occasionally, you catch him watching you and he doesn’t look away. his fiery eyes are steady on your body with a frown you can’t translate. you’d be brushing your hands through the flowers landscaped across his home while he sits with the other higher members of his army. he scrunches his nose, his head resting in his palm. he’s gorgeous with his wheat blonde locks and scar through his eyebrow. his bicep is the size of your head and you’re perfectly aware of how easy it would be for him to pick you up and throw you around. bakugou doesn’t turn away when you frown back at him, only when one of his excited army members prods a finger at a map does his attention shift before a bubble of laughter floods from them. you think your fiancé is the butt of the joke from the way his red spreads all across his neck.
your new relationship is rocky, filled with tension and pure impatience.
at least you’re lucky your family chose a handsome fiancé for you. you watch from afar when thick mighty legs and ass step into the bakugou private lake to bathe. his strong shoulders with more muscles than you thought were possible on a human. bakugou is all wide shoulders and tiny waist, scars and slashes littering the expanse of his back and if you voiced how attractive you found a back you’re sure you would be locked up. you’re surprised to see him without his bracelets or necklaces, the only jewellery still on being his ring and earrings.
the weeds and grass that surround the lake dwarf you whenever you bathe, always drooping into your eyes and covering you intimidatingly. yet with him, they stretch tall, pointing to the sun so there’s enough space for him to dunk his head in the water. nature isn’t overwhelmingly large beside him, in fact with all the roughness that is bakugou katsuki, the water and greenery cares for him like a lover would.
his blonde hair curls at the tips with the water, dusting to a darker blonde, matching the deep shades of green. his arm rises to scrape it all off his forehead. the lake glazes his body like a shield and you don’t miss how he lightly pinches a lily stem between his fingers to bring to his nose. he hasn’t even turned around yet and the sight of his back, scrubbing himself clean… you don’t think you’ve ever been attracted to someone so much. not even your father’s old scribe was this attractive and he was the most attractive in your village.
you’re careful to be silent and you’re well aware of how perverted this could turn out. you swear you were just on a walk around his land and now you’re distracted by your fiancé cleaning his body in the lake. he’s completely naked, dripping with water. the dirt that marked his skin is washed away, leaving him golden and shiny in the sunlight. you don’t know what you want a peek of more his chest or his—
“who’s there?”
bakugou turns in your direction in a flash. fuck. you curse the skies because you know you didn’t make a sound. his hearing is immaculate and so are his senses. you debate whether to reveal yourself or if he’ll just leave it. actually, you know he won’t leave it.
“i know someone’s there. reveal yourself or i’ll kill you without question.”
you sigh, flinging your head back and looking to the clear skies. for fucks sake.
you stand tall, faux confident because his ruby jewel red eyes are looking at you and paired with a grumpy violent frown, it has you feeling lightheaded for all the wrong reasons.
he’s stepped to the shallower end of the lake now, his bare chest in view and finally, his face. he’s so gorgeous. tanned skin, rolls of abs. facial features all in the right places yet with a masculine charm that has you humming. you wonder if he realises.
you step out from behind the tree, chin high. “i was coming to bathe but you’re already here. i’ll come back later.”
you’re lying through your teeth but bakugou can’t catch it, focusing on stopping the flush of red up his neck. now the thought of you naked in the lake beside him is filling his head and he’s rubbing his hand against his forehead roughly.
your eyes study his bicep, then the thick scar under his right pectoral and your body flushes with heat when you think he caught you.
“you didn’t bring any cloth to dry yourself?” he asks, voice deep and troubled.
your eyes widen in alarm, that’s true. stupid lie. “i usually… air dry. stand out in the grass.”
now it’s bakugou’s turn to be surprised, “hah?” he can’t help it. “what if someone sees you?”
you blink, “everybody would know i’m off to bathe. only my maid would be around to watch out. well back home anyway.” that’s true.
bakugou grunts. he needs to get that same routine for you here. “i’ll get out ‘n’ you can bathe. i’ll sit out and watch for you.”
“w-what?” you splutter.
he cannot be here while you bathe and what did you say… air dry? fuck fuck fuck.
“i’m gettin’ out. i was done anyway,”
water ripples around his body as he moves, strong limbs controlling the water. he walks closer to you, the clear lake water inching lower and lower down his hips. you can see the brush of hair leading to his—
you spin around in a rush, “bakugou! oh heavens.”
your chest is heaving, your fingers to your lips. you still hear him moving behind you, bare feet against the grass. his fluffy cloth against his skin.
“i’m hurryin’ up for you. don’t want you complainin’ back to daddy that i don’t let you live your life of luxury,” he remarks and you’re about to spin around to curse him out but you don’t want to get a glimpse of his cock. that’s a lie. you really do but you don’t want him to know that.
“i don’t complain to my father!” you shout, completely flustered, “and i can just come back later.”
“you can turn around. i’m covered,”
you do turn, slowly and now he’s the one lying. he’s only half covered, cloth at his waist covering his chunky thighs and that. just by the indent from the cloth, you know it’s large. still, his shoulders and chest and arms are out. they’re a killer.
you force your eyes to meet his. his jaw is strong, arms crossed against his chest and he speaks his next words like they’re scraping painfully across his throat.
“undress then. i’ll keep watch out for you.”
no, no, no. no.
“you don’t need to do that. i’ll just come back later.”
bakugou shakes his head like his word is law. “you still need someone to look out for you like you had back home. i’m doin’ it.”
“don’t you have army stuff to do? you don’t need to stay!”
he ignores your question completely, “nobody else is here to watch you.”
you blink at him. you’ve never thought about someone seeing you the other days you’ve showered here. it’s not something you’ve cared about since not many people on bakugou’s grounds have access to this lake and if they heard someone here they know to walk away. apart from you apparently. but you can’t go back on what you’ve started now.
“do you not want me to see you naked?” his eyes skim your body and your next breath is weaker. then he quirks a brow that makes you mimic his crossed arms, “y’know i’m gonna have to one day.”
“yes i know that. we aren’t getting married today though, are we?”
bakugou has only ever felt this weird, uncomfortable, childlike embarrassment, stupidly horny, oddly at home mixture when he’s by you.
you’re both looking at each other, though you don’t know each other well enough yet to decipher the emotions in your eyes.
truthfully, you don’t mind him seeing you naked. you have a nagging feeling at the back of your head admitting that you want him to. you want him to like what he sees and feel the undeniable urge you’re feeling about him right now. to touch, kiss and lick the fresh lake water off his skin.
you begin to unlace the front of your cardigan, dropping it to the ground. then you’re kicking off your shoes and your finger is hooked in the strap of your thin dress.
“wait, you’re undressing now? let me turn around or somethin’ woman!” he grumbles,, stepping around you and facing towards his home.
your laugh feels like butterfly wings against his skin, light and melodic and he thinks it’s the first time it’s for him. “i thought you said you’re going to have to see me naked?”
“y-yeah but i didn’t mean…”
you pull your dress down over your breasts and ass, watching it fall gracefully to the ground. next is your underwear and you’re completely naked before your fiancé. though he’s got his beautifully toned back turned away.
“so what did you mean?”
bakugou’s whole face is flushed pink, the tips of his ears red. he wipes his large hand across his face, grateful you can’t see him from the front. “i just meant i will in the future. that’s it.”
you dip your toes in the lake water. it’s sun toasted. warm between your toes. you hum to yourself at the feeling.
it’s silly where your trust for this man comes from. you’ve barely spoken these past few weeks minus snappy remarks and quick-tempered conversations. though you know he wouldn’t turn around for a peek at you so you take your time submerging yourself in the water. you scoop all your hair to sit on your head, re-wrapping it in a silk strip of cloth.
“so i think this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had without arguing. if it could be called one,” you try and you notice his head twitch at the sound of his voice.
“i wonder why.”
“what?”
“you sit with me at breakfast for a full three minutes, pushing the food around your plate before runnin’ off like i smell like horse shit.”
“oh,” you pause, biting down on your lip, “you don’t smell like horse shit.”
“yeah, princess. i know i don’t.”
you’re not a princess, you’re a chief’s daughter so you have no clue why he always calls you that. you do enjoy the name though you despise it when it’s used mockingly by him. which it is. often.
you sigh, “i am not the biggest fan of your breakfast and in the morning i usually run off to pick something up from the bakery.”
“what? how come nobody told me?”
you shrug even though he can’t see you, “nobody comes with me. i sneak out the back.”
you’re not sure why you admit it but you guess it’s that weird trust you have in him.
“well, we’ll change it then. i can’t have you sneakin’ off just to fuckin’ eat breakfast.”
he doesn’t make it sound like it’s a chore or you’re being childish or stupid. he says he’ll fix it. your chest blooms with warm fervency. you push it away.
“since we’re here i also think your horse hates me. every time i try to stroke him he grunts and growls at me. kinda like you. so that’s why i stay away from you outside.”
this time bakugou laughs. this is the first time you think you’ve ever heard it and the smile naturally flows onto your face too. it’s oddly boyish compared to his body which is nothing but man.
“daisy hates everyone but me. just feed her and she’ll be fine. i’ll give you some food for her next time. she’ll fall in love with you.”
the same question is on the tip of your tongue. how do i make you fall in love with me? because that’s what happens in normal marriages right? not because you, for some reason, want this man’s affection.
“and what’s the excuse for your attitude?”
“i’ve only got attitude because you do,” you accuse.
“really?” he bends to sit down, leaning back on his arms and stretching out his legs in the grass. he’s still got his fluffy cloth around his waist. “that’s why you’re snappy at me before i even talk?”
“i’m just… bored and erm…,” you sigh and it feels relieving, admitting the thoughts plaguing your mind about your new life, “there’s nothing to do around here and i don’t know anybody.”
“i’ve got a library,” he blurts, head turning to the left but he’s unable to see you behind him at that angle, “and we can… i guess you can come drink with me and my friends and their wives. they’re alright.”
“really?” you’re shocked at the prospect. bakugou inviting you to be with him in his free time?
“yeah. you’re gonna meet them anyway and the library you get into with a key. i’ll get my blacksmith to make one for you.”
you brush your hand through the lake water, fixating on the ripples it creates. you weren’t expecting any of this today. who knew your fiancé was willing to compromise? you don’t know how exactly to say thank you, you’re not even sure if you should yet since nothing has come to fruition.
“i don’t mind you turning around. this all just caught me off guard.”
you can tell by his back that he tenses up, muscles tight and bunched. he scrambles to his feet, adjusting the cloth around his waist with his head looking down at himself.
there’s a tight pause in the air minus the soft tweets of birds. “are you in the water?”
“yes.”
“completely?”
you laugh again and bakugou doesn’t mean to flutter his eyes shut. “yes bakugou.”
“soon you’ll be a bakugou. my name’s katsuki.”
“yes katsuki, i am completely in the water sans my head and shoulders. i need it to talk.”
there’s a grumble, one you can’t make the words out of. he shuffles on the spot but still doesn’t turn.
“so are you going to?”
“no.”
“why not?” you frown, watching the six foot five body before you, “what happened to you’ll see me naked anyway?”
“i’m keeping watch.”
you feel a streak of stubbornness gush through your veins. maybe it’s the lack of attention you’ve gotten since being dubbed bakugou’s fiancé or the growing need blooming in your lower half. maybe it’s these odd mixed signals you’re getting from your lover to be.
“katsuki, turn around and look at me.”
“i fuckin’ said i can’t.”
“nobody is going to come and see me, i bathe out here alone all the time!”
“yn, i said i can’t.”
he doesn’t raise his voice the way you see him do with his army. he doesn’t even say it angrily with clenched fists the way you see him get when his army isnt getting things right. he says it steady yet almost shameful, a whine twinged at the end. it sounds like he wants to but something’s stopping him.
your brain doesn’t connect to the rest of your body when your legs begin to move. towards the lake’s edge with your toes raking through the grass.
bakugou’s head twitches, “the fuck are you doin’?”
your wet hand lands on his arm and he tenses again.
“yn, you… fuck,” he dips his head down.
“what’s wrong?”
he doesn’t tell you, instead he shows you and… holy fuck is it hard to miss.
bakugou katsuki turns around to face you and your first surprise is the way he keeps his eyes directly on yours, not your dripping wet body in the golden evening glow. he’s got a pained frown, pulled eyebrows and baby pink cheeks. his jaw is clenched so hard that you’re sure it must ache.
your second surprise is the growing bulge under his white fluffy cloth. the thick, long, massive bulge that you think, if your calculations are correct, has to be about eight inches? holy fuck, how will that fit inside you?
“oh my—,”
bakugou looks up to the sky with a loud exhale, “fuck, i’m sorry—,” he’s not sure the last time he’s ever apologised to someone. let alone for being hard.
“w-why? since when?”
bakugou huffs an uncomfortable laugh, rubbing his eyes.
“i could hear you being naked behind me and the fuck do you mean why? d’you know how hard it is to not look at you right now?”
you bite down on your lip, looking down at yourself and remembering oh yeah… you’re naked right now. the only thing on you right now is your pretty ring, glinting in the light, the same as his. you hold your hands behind your back at the observation. he’s attracted to you, like you are to him.
“i said you could. you can look at me.”
with those five words, bakugou’s pupils drop below your eyes. your skin burns wherever his eyes focus. on your lips, the curve of your bottom lip. your soft shoulders with glittering water droplets dotted across them. then your chest and he makes this weird grunty sigh. he wants to cup one or put one in his mouth. maybe cup one and put the other in his mouth. taste the lake water off your skin and circle your cute nipple with his tongue. then your soft stomach, he wants to lay his palms over you, he wants to touch, he’s dying to. then your mound, unshaven and he’s wondering how you taste. whether if he dips his fingers between your plush thighs, will they come away wet? he hums at your hips, thinking about spinning you around to see your ass and if it’s how he imagined it would be under your dress. then your feet, hidden in the grass.
bakugou feels lucky, elated, he thinks you’re so fucking perfect.
you were not expecting that. maybe some horny monologue, but to be called perfect? he gulps, eyes wide like he wasn’t planning on letting that slip.
“i’m not takin’ that back. you’re perfect. better than i imagined.”
“you’ve imagined me like this?”
he snorts, “of course. you haven’t imagined me like this?”
he thinks it’s very possible you haven’t but he risks it by pushing it back on you. he wins because you only give him that glare he’s growing to think is adorable.
“i’ve also imagined your ass and from the front i already know it beats expectations,” he grins and you’re wondering where the shy to show his boner bakugou went.
you shove his shoulder, “you are not what i imagined.”
bakugou doesn’t know what to make of that. he tilts his head to the side, “what did you think?”
you’re surprised at how you don’t feel self conscious or at all awkward being completely naked with bakugou. he’s back to focusing on your eyes though when you talk they drop to your lips and when you move to hold your side, he glances at your breasts. otherwise he’s back giving you his full attention.
“well, everyone back home said you were cruel, vicious and violent. how you were known for going berserk in battle,” you give him a smile he can only class as cocky, “you don’t know how many grandmas i have praying for me.”
bakugou raises his eyebrows. he knows what people say about him so he’s not completely surprised. “i am all those things, though i’m not in a battle with you. i haven’t tryin’ to be. us being bitchy to each other just happened.”
“i thought you hated me.”
“i think you thought you were supposed to hate me.”
you sigh, taking the silk ribbon out of your hair and redoing your bun. bakugou’s been doing a good job so far ignoring the pulsing in his cock. it’s heavy between his thighs and it’s only getting heavier with the sight of your arms in the air, your tits moving too. you’re gorgeous, pretty features all in the right places.
“i guess so? i didn’t want this arranged marriage stuff,” your hands dance in the air as if to explain before landing on your hips, “but i’ll do it for my family.”
bakugou wants you to do it for him, for yourself. he thinks he can get you to admit it.
“i was the same,” he mumbles, “hated how you were suddenly just here. in my space. i wanted to run my village on my own because i know i can but fuckin’ family. don’t wanna disappoint the ‘rents.”
you hum before him in agreement.
“i’ll be good to you. the best son, best chief, best warrior, best husband.” he nods at you and you don’t mean to step closer to him but you do, holding his promise tightly in your chest.
“do you promise?” you look up at him, eyes wide with hope and bakugou never wants to let you down. he hopes he never does.
“swear on my village.”
you freeze. you don’t know what means more to bakugou than his village, his people. you’re breathing heavy and the prickles of warm heat from the sun is making you sweat. actually the promise which feels worth so much more than a marriage certificate is making you sweat.
you lay your palm flat on bakugou’s chest, sinking down to the tuft of dark hair just above the cloth. it’s doing such a bad job at covering him.
“can i help you?”
your voice is sweet, nervous for rejection and bakugou wants nothing more than to just give himself to you. to thrust himself in your smaller palms exactly how he wants.
“i didn’t… i didn’t say that to get somethin’ out of it?” he starts but you only smile at him. how would you react if he kissed you?
“you didn’t do anything. i was the one out here. you only stayed to protect me, right?” your voice is taunting, like a magnet dragging him to you. your palm doesn’t move any lower, waiting on his command.
“but… fuck.”
“you can tell me what you like. i’ve been with a few guys back home so—,”
a large palm covers your mouth with swiftness, “don’t talk about other men around me if you don’t want to get a letter from back home that there’s been a raid.” katsuki’s voice drops octaves deeper and you cross one leg over the other. you guess this is the bakugou people warned you about. you lightly pull his hand off your face with no resistance.
“yes chief,” bakugou rolls his eyes and clenches his jaw. he’s willing to ignore that now. he’ll come back to it later, “so what about me touching your co—,”
bakugou grips your hips before walking backwards with you. your hands fly to his chest, glancing behind. “why are we going—,”
“i don’t want anyone to see what i’m about to do to you.”
“i’ve told you nobody can see us here. i bathe out here all the time.” you’re now knee deep, now thigh deep in the lake. tall grass and weeds surround you and your fiancé protectively.
“i’m gonna be with you every time you bathe now to look out.”
“that’s not possible. you’re out early in the mornings and back late in the evenings.”
“i’ll change my routine.”
“you’re planning on changing a lot for me, aren’t you?”
“you’re my wife.”
he says it with finality and for the first time, you don’t have a comeback. perhaps that you’re only his fiancé but it feels pointless. you gaze down at his cloth, half submerged in the lake.
“it’s all soaked!”
bakugou wastes no time untying it from his hips, rolling it in a ball and throwing it onto the grass.
“guess we’re both gonna have to air dry.”
finally, your eyes drop to his cock and what a pretty cock bakugou has. maybe that’s the wrong word, since it looks like it could cause damage to your insides. the tip is a round, bulbous, deep pink that you’re wondering how it feels against the inside of your cheek. he’s got three thick veins around his length that curves slightly to the left. the base is so much darker than the rest of him and he looks so smooth. so hard and almost painful.
you give his balls a soft squeeze and bakugou bucks in your hand. his hand clenching around your hips for some type of stability. his crimson eyes are hidden from view, shut and he’s clenching down hard on his teeth, the scar on his cheekbone creasing.
“princess… oh fuck,”
you’re going to be able to see bakugou katsuki, chief of the village and head of the army, fall apart and you’re going to do it to him.
“it’s okay katsuki, talk me through it, tell me how you feel,” you whisper, your voice no louder than the grasshoppers and crickets around you.
“j-just stroke me. tight and hard,” he grunts, head dropping to your shoulder to see what you’re doing to him.
you do what you’re told, fingers circling his length and pumping. he never mentioned speed so you go steady, delighted to hear your name fall from his lips, dripping in pleasure.
“y’know i went out to get that m-massive fuckin’ fish for dinner yesterday all to impress you,” katsuki’s got no clue why he’s admitting this now, not when you’re so close that you’re sharing body heat and he can lick to water off your neck. “you never ate it.”
you never knew that he went and got it, especially not to impress you. there’s barely any space to react not with him holding you so tight. he begins to thrust his hips in your hand.
“i didn’t know you got it for me. i don’t like fish.”
bakugou laughs, deep and gravelly you feel it between your legs and right in your ear. “i know that now, honey. next time i’ll kill a—,” his breath shakes and you’re mesmerised by him, his body. so muscled and strong and he’s yours. “i’ll kill the next village’s golden fuckin’ cow for you. would that impress you?”
you can barely think straight. the next village is barbaric, though that’s nothing for bakugou. you’re nodding before you realise you’re doing so, “yes, yes it will.”
“gonna cover you in silvers and golds,” he grunts and the ring on his finger imprints into your hips, “the next r-raid, gonna take everythin’ you’d like.”
katsuki moans loudly, a whiny, “fuck” accompanied with a dribble of precome over your fingers. his breath is hot and his fingertips are pressing into your hips. you make a move to thumb his head but he stops thrusting immediately. “if you touch there i’ll come and i’m damned if we start this relationship with me comin’ first.”
you loosen your grip on his cock as he lifts his forehead from your shoulder. “can i touch you? want you to come on my fingers.”
your breath halts in your throat. oh you’ve imagined this, not in this situation with your legs in the lake, outdoors and surrounded by lush greenery, but in your private bedroom in bakugou’s quarters. your legs spread on your bed while your thoughts wander to the blonde man and how he’s easily able to wield a weapon.
katsuki doesn’t kiss your mouth, you think he purposely avoids it, instead littering wet nibbles and kisses down your neck and shoulder.
you gasp at a particularly hard nibble, “yes, touch me.”
in your fantasies, katsuki is rough. he pushes you onto the bed, he doesn’t ask whether you’re ready and he always always makes you come. you think he could be like that though right now he’s anything but.
one hand stays at your hip to keep you from twitching as beneath the water bakugou kicks your legs further apart. you hold onto him in surprise but there’s no time to complain as his thick middle finger skims through your centre.
“ha, knew you’d be wet. it’s all in your eyes, honey,”
you just mewl, cheek leaning on his chest. you feel his cock bob against your stomach.
with his single finger he begins to circle your clit and you’ve wanted a release so bad these past few days that that touch alone feels like fireworks lighting up inside your body. your eyes are sliding shut, mouth dropping open as bakugou literally coos in your ear.
“d’you like that? got a pretty fuckin’ wife, don’t i?”
“fiancé,” you whine and you don’t know why you bother to correct him. he feels so safe, his skin cosy and the air fresh. you’re nodding against him, “so good.”
“technicalities. you’re mine either way,” he pecks your temple, rolling your clit on his finger until he hears your breathing become ragged. bakugou looks down at you and he’s not sure what swells within his chest.
he’s been with a few ladies in the neighbouring villages though he’s never felt anything for them minus fleeting attraction. looking down at you with your plush lips parted and your eyebrows furrowed like the pleasure is too much... your smooth skin compared to his scarred chest. your hands are scrambling for purchase, resting between your breasts and his chest and he’s begging to be chest to chest. you’re angelic, unlike anything he’s ever seen before yet so similar to the beauty of nature.
he’s seen it all, he’s done it all. committed the most gruesome of murders, stolen out of greed and lied for his own fulfilment. he knows that in those religious books they keep in the churches with all those sins under his belt, he doesn’t deserve somebody as heavenly as you. with your glares, always opinionated and your strange habits. your shiny hair, your galaxy filled pupils and your curious hands always touching something. he wants to know everything about you, have you by his side, he wants you to like him and soon, maybe love him.
you whine against his chest, a soft, “katsuki.” and he feels like he’s been set alight, a realisation of who he has in front of him ringing through his head.
he wraps his forearm against your lower back and growls in your ear. “gonna make you come all over my fingers. bet you taste heavenly, princess. wanna hear it all, don’t keep anything to yourself. you hear me?”
he wastes no time dipping two fingers into your centre and the friction from your wetness makes him go in like a dream. your arms go around his neck and you’re sure you’re dribbling against his chest. the sensation of him inside, prodding deliciously against your walls has you throwing your head back, “yes,” you moan, “yes, yes, yes.”
bakugou’s amazed at how you begin to bounce on his fingers, fucking yourself back onto him with no thoughts but hedonistic desires. a loud sloshing fills the air, it’s dirty and lewd but neither of you make a move to stop it.
this is the first time you’ve done anything together. the first time sexually but also just your first time completely alone together. you sleep in separate rooms, there’s always servants or soldiers or someone around but now it’s just you and him. you fucking yourself on his fingers.
“i knew, i knew this would feel good,” you squeal, a layer of sweat coating your forehead. bakugou’s hand slides up your stomach then your breasts to cup your jaw.
you look fucked, drowsy eyes, parted lips. though you don’t stop riding his fingers and he watches how your features shift as he thumbs your clit again.
“oh shit,” you breathe and bakugou grins cockily.
“you knew this would feel good? with me?”
your hum of agreement accidentally becomes a high pitched whine, “yeah. your fingers are so…” you arch your hips, chasing his thumb, “so big.”
he chuckles hearty and confident and he swears he’s forgotten the painful heavy limb at his hips until your fist circles it again.
“come with me, katsuki,”
he jolts in your hand. he’ll do anything you say, he didn’t realise it until this moment. but he says it anyway.
“say please, princess,”
you’re pouting, cheeks hot and eyes ready to plead. bakugou knows he’s lucky, he’s lucky you chose him.
“come with me please, i want to feel you come because of me,” you trail off, transfixed by his pupils on you.
“i can do that for you,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your cheek.
you’re both rabid animals in the wild, a pile of heaving chests and moans and grunts in the water. sweat coats you both as your bodies move in sync, chasing the same feeling but together. bakugou thrusts into your palm, not hiding the deep grunt when you thumb his wet cock head. swears fall from his lips whilst you pair a few swears of your own with mewls.
together, you’re messy. lubricated by your own need. you don’t stop moving and neither does he.
“gonna be the best husband. you won’t need anyone else.”
“i don’t want anyone else.”
it’s a switch that goes off inside you. your eyes falling shut, your hips moving faster and your insides clench around his fingers as if you’re trying to keep him inside. your hand slows down on his cock while you come but that’s okay since he splutters over your stomach and under your breasts. loads and loads leak out of him and you keep trembling on his fingers. he finds that despite all the noise you made before, you orgasm in silence. just an open mouth and body slowly going limp.
bakugou keeps thrusting until he’s done and even he’s shocked at how much he’s able to produce. you can’t blame him, he’s been so tense with you around not knowing how to just talk to you and somehow this feels like it’s broken down a few walls between you both.
you come down from your highs clasping onto each other like a lifeline. sweaty palms and clammy skin though you both don’t mind. in fact, it’s something you could get used to really quickly.
“how about we wash off again and do that air dry thing you said?” his voice murmurs in your ear and you lift your cheek off his chest to pay attention to him.
katsuki looks lighter now. his cheeks a natural lovely pink, his carmine eyes glistening and he doesn’t have his typical frown. you actually find his resting face quite pretty and up close you can see how his eyelashes are long and uncurled batting against his skin. his nose is slightly wonky with a bump which you can assume is from fighting and you have an urge to kiss the scar going through his lips.
then you remember him calling you perfect and all the promises he made you before you were even having sex. your fiancé really isn’t who you thought he was. it’s all making you feel… shy, a silly little girl with a crush blossoming inside your heart. he just made you come with his fingers and you did the same to him, there’s no time for this. why he didn’t kiss you when you were so intimate? is that too personal for him? did he not want to?
you meet his eyes then look away to the clear lake below, you scramble out of his touch, weirdly awkward without his heat around you.
“oh yeah, we could. yeah,” you blurt, turning away from him and washing yourself again in the lake.
bakugou watches you, slow to begin cleaning himself again. he washes his chest, his fingers, his face and hair in silence before he says, “do you regret what we just did?”
you spin around to face your fiancé and you gulp. with the sunsetting behind him, the shadow his body creates only makes him look larger, beautiful. just the size of him makes you feel protected and you’re suddenly imagining him giving you a speech about how he’d protect you with his life. well, he did say he’d be a good husband before. his pert brown nipples, his stupidly toned chest and you’ve seen him help the villagers with farming and carrying goods back and forth. all jobs he doesn’t need to do, way below his level but he does anyway. why didn’t he kiss you?
the frown he gives you now though you recognise as a worried one. weakly furrowed brows and wide shiny eyes. he’s cautious and shies away from touching you.
you shake your head, “no, i don't regret it.”
katsuki’s frown doesn’t let up. he brushes all his wet hair off his forehead. “was it shit? did you not like it?”
oh you loved it. coming on his fingers, palms against his chest. next you wanna hold onto his bicep, bite down on it. again, you shake your head and bite down on your lip, “no i really enjoyed it but…” you trail off.
katsuki wastes no time, wading through the water over to you. he slides a palm to your cheek and you’re close to him again. your whole body feels electric. “but what? i can’t be a good husband if you don’t talk to me.”
his thumb traces your bottom lip, his hot breath covering your face. “i just…,” you huff, this isn’t you, “you didn’t kiss me! we did all of that and you didn’t kiss me once!”
he doesn’t mean to but the left side of his lips quirk up in amusement, his other hand sliding to your waist to hold you against him, “i did kiss you. there’s these bruises here to prove it.” he rubs his finger against your neck and you shiver.
“you bruised me?,” you blink and his smile is full blown. you feel like dropping to your knees before him because who knew bakugou katsuki could smile like that? “wait, no i meant on my mouth, you never gave me a proper kiss!”
he agrees with you, nodding slowly like he’s soothing you. his finger even draws shapes on your bare back. “i didn’t. that’s somethin’ you want?”
you have all his attention, and the shyness after your outburst is creeping back in. “yes,” you whisper.
“why?” he arches a brow.
“what?”
“why do you want me to kiss you, princess?”
you remember what he said before, he can’t be a good husband if you don’t talk to him. “it’s something i require. often. you’re the only person i can ask them from.”
katsuki looks satisfied by that answer, with an impressed roll of his lips, he murmurs, “that’s right. only i can kiss you.”
he leans into your lips, firstly brushing his chapped ones against your softer ones and you feel your whole body yearning. “okay.”
bakugou captures his lips with yours as if he’s breathing air into you, though it doesnt cool you, just sets you alight. you inhale him, wrapping your arms around his neck to drag him into you closer than humanely possible and his arms instinctively wrap around your waist. the kiss is controlled on his side, giving, like he knows you’re impatient and you could beg for more.
he pecks and lightly bites down on your bottom lip, only causing you to gasp out for another.
“katsuki,” you sound stern, though he only laughs at you.
“yeah, yeah, i’ll give it to you,”
katsuki slips his tongue into your mouth, your lips parting eagerly. a hand comes to cradle your cheek as excitement sparks down your spine and youre unsure how you lasted so long not doing this. how you have the rest of your life to continue doing this with him. he unsurprisingly tastes like the lake water, fresh air and smells like the fresh greenery around you. he’s easily dominating, controlling the kiss and sucking around your tongue. you moan instantly, completely ravenous and he only grins against your mouth in understanding.
you want more and more but he pulls away with a smug grin.
“was that good enough for you?”
you look like you’ve been through it. cushion lips, out of breath with sleepy eyes. you’re not about to beg for another when he’s already so cocky.
you do decide to tell the truth though, “yes. could have been longer though.”
he huffs a laugh and your arms tighten around his neck. you want him again, you want to feel him again.
“we have forever, princess. and were gettin’ frog footed being in here.”
you can’t help but laugh at his phrasing, ignoring the soft warmth that spreads at the thought of forever. you guess you do have forever with him. you don't see your desire burning out anytime soon.
you untangle from him, wading through the water and out of the lake.
“there’s the ass i’ve been wantin’ to see,”
you glare at him following behind you, ruby eyes shining in amusement. you swat away a hand coming to squeeze you.
“has anyone told you you’re annoying?”
“no. they don’t wanna get their head knocked off.”
“figures.”
together, you lay out on the grass naked. it doesn’t take too long to dry but since you found out you don’t mind, okay, enjoy being in your fiancés company, you’re relaxed beside him.
“i’m surprised nobody has called you for village business or army business or family business. you’re in a lot of peoples business.”
you turn to face him, grass tickling your neck and cheek but he keeps his eyes upwards to the darkening evening sky, stars yet to appear.
“i tell them not to bother me when i’m bathing. hate getting interrupted during the only time i get to myself.”
you blink awkwardly, “oh, i guess i did that?”
he slowly turns to you, focusing on your lips then your eyes. fuck, he’s been to multiple villages, travelled far and wide and nobody has been as beautiful as you. he almost doesn’t feel worthy to be so close, intimate with you.
“you’re not included in that. you can bother me.”
“really? even before we… made up?”
your foot brushes his shin and he makes no move to shift away.
“i never really disliked you. just didn’t understand you.” he flicks his eyes down your body beside him and you feel your heart thunder against your rib cage, “you can join me in the lake anytime, princess.”
you roll your eyes despite the smile spreading across your cheeks. “now, has anyone told you how flirtatious you are?” you lean on your side to properly face him, a finger tracing shapes across his chest, “if i knew i was missing out on all this, i would have said i hated your food much sooner.”
katsuki grunts unamused though his eyes shine, “i wish you did too. i’ll fix shit around here, it’s your home too.”
“i appreciate that.”
it’s a comfortable silence, you being touchy while bakugou just lets you. the tips of your fingers trace the ridges of his abs, his scars, his marks. you’re careful to avoid his nipples though you keep getting intrusive thoughts to kiss them. his body is undeniably strong, wielding so much strength that there’s so much to touch that you don’t know what to do with yourself.
“you’re very affectionate.” he states.
bakugou doesn’t stay around women long enough to get to this part of cuddly aftercare. being this way around women only comes when he visits other villages with the air of danger and debauchery. he used to think the fact he knew he could get killed for sleeping with women from the other villages made the sex more thrilling though lying outside naked with you is the most comfortable he’s ever felt. like he’s supposed to be here with you and everywhere else he’s ever been was wrong.
you shrug loosely, “everyone would want to touch you.”
your hand brushes against the thick hair on his lower stomach and bakugou frowns over at you.
“that’s not what i wanted to hear. i said you are. not everybody else.”
your voice drops a few decibels, you don’t mean for it to, “do you want me to tell you i think you’re attractive? i’ve been wanting to touch you for a while. watching all these people look at you like you’re their god, people willing to die for you. now you’re out here with no weapons, just pure muscle alone with me. it does something to a girl, you know?” a single eyebrow raises along with the corner of your lips.
surprise has your hands scrambling as two of his large palms find your waist and plops you right on his chest, straddling his body. he grabs his cloth to prop behind his head and he keeps his hands on your thighs, squeezing and massaging. this position is a lot, you hope he doesn’t feel how wet you are on his chest. imagining the wet patch when you shuffle off him makes you flush.
bakugou knows it’s stupid but he doesn’t want you to see how he’s half hard yet, just how easy you get him aroused by touching his chest and talking to him.
“when do you think you’ll start seeing me as your god? it would make my life a lot easier,” he smirks.
you shake your head, “hopefully never, i want to see you as my husband and friend.”
“friend?”
bakugou feels taken aback at how easy conversation is with you, how he can’t stop talking just so he can hear you talk in return. you’re brushing his blonde locks off his forehead, “yeah, i’d love to be your friend. we did rush into this fiancé stuff rather quickly,” you giggle.
he hums, “friends with benefits.”
“men,” you shake your head mumbling even though you’d say the exact same. “my friends with benefits fiancé.”
“sounds good to me.”
bakugou realises all at once, he’s not as strong as he thought he was. also he can smell your pussy and it’s leaving smears on his chest. “would it be crazy to ask you to sit on my face? i can smell you, princess.”
your jaw drops at his bluntness and you want to roll off and close your legs though he pins you down by your thighs. the heat of your lower half increases intensely. you’d love to just grind on his chest but he’s offering his mouth? yes, you’ve daydreamed about this too.
“oh my god, katsuki.” you splutter and he drags you along his chest.
“cmon, wanna taste you properly. feel you fall apart ‘cause of my mouth,”
you’re not sure how you could even start to say no to him, especially when you only want to say yes. he looks angelic with the new moonlight beginning to dust his golden hair and you know you should be scared with the growing darkness but youre not. the thing that could cause the most damage is ready to beg to eat your pussy.
“you’re unbelievable,” you murmur even though you lift up to crawl up to his face. you’re hovering your heat above him and the man lets out this animalistic moan, his eyes falling shut. you feel a roll of wetness spread through you. bakugou’s hands hold your hips like his life depends on it.
“talk to me, princess. about anythin’ you want,”
“what do you—,”
he practically drops you on his mouth, his lips finding your clit with ease and sucking, hard.
“holy—,” you gasp, your back arching and it doesn’t take long at all for you to start grinding on his face, fingers clenching chunks of his hair like handlebars.
bakugou licks and licks between your legs, you can even feel him swallowing everything he gathers on his tongue before swiping again. your whole body rumbles, feeling as if it’s been set alight. you don’t think you’ve ever been treated with such need, such vigour. you’re a wheezing burst balloon of moans and mewls, rocking on his tongue and flinging your head back every time he nudges your clit.
he pulls you away from him for a single second and you’re already gasping at being away, “talk to me.”
then he dips his tongue in your hole and you’re withering.
“a-about what?” you whine as he stops lapping you up and bites down on your inner thigh, “oh fuck, katsuki!”
you begin to babble, anything that comes to mind, mostly all your thoughts about him. “i-i sometimes watch you carry furniture and hay barrels for the o-old ladies—,” a soft sigh slips through as his thumb presses against your asshole, “i think it’s so a-adorable b-but then you get all sweaty and fuck.”
bakugou studies you through squinted eyes, every reaction, what you love, what you’re saying to him. he ignores the heaviness of his balls and focuses on pleasuring you. he hums between your legs and your grip tightens in his hair. you’ve been watching him, the same way he’s been watching you all the time.
he doesn’t need to push you to talk more because you’re doing it on your own. swirling your hips on his face, “i see t-the way the women look at you when we’re in town and it m-makes me…” you’re arching your back and bakugou knows your close. he presses down on your ass, sucking your clit between his lips, “it makes me so m-mad, katsuki,” you whine as if you’re close to tears, “thinking about if you’ve ever f-fucked them.”
fuck. oh shit, you’ve been jealous? bakugou knows it’s not healthy for him to get turned on by the prospect but you’ve been so annoyed around him all the time to find out you’ve been jealous? you’ve been staring at him this whole time?
his realisation hits as hard as your orgasm, the sensation rocking through your body, heat springing to the tips of your toes and fingers.
your wail is loud, though you’re both sure nobody is close enough to hear you. again you’re riding his face, taking what’s yours and smartly, he lets you. playing with you till your soft and limp, thighs about to squeeze his head from overstimulation.
he lifts you off him slowly, “okay princess, you’re good,” wrapping you in his chest as you try to regulate your breathing again.
there’s crickets in the air, hoots of owls and the soft breeze making the trees dance. living in a village as a chief’s daughter, there weren't many opportunities to be outside in the dark and not assume imminent danger. in bakugou’s arms, you’re sure there's nothing you can't face.
bakugou blurts the words before he can even think about them, “i haven’t by the way.”
you glance up at his face, shocked to find how shiny his mouth is from his spit and you. you gasp and when he notices, he just wipes his face with his hand before sucking your juices off his fingers. his pink tongue darts out to taste every bit you left over and you cant help your next words coming out as a mindless flutter.
“you haven’t what?”
“fucked anyone from here,” he shakes his head.
you won’t call him a liar though it feels a little suspicious, “you’re not telling me you’re a virgin, are you?”
bakugou rumbles a laugh you can only find endearing despite the situation. you feel the laugh vibrating in his chest and you even lay your palm against it.
“no, princess i’m not.”
you blink, you’re not sure why you feel so jealous of people you’ve never met, over a man you’ve known for not even a whole month. you definitely weren’t expecting your new fiancé, chief and leader to be a virgin, heck you’re not either but still it must be nice to be chosen by katsuki and not his family.
“okay,” you breathe.
“what? why do you sound all upset?” he rolls you on your back and lays sideways facing you so there’s no way you can escape his gaze. his rough fingers brush hair out your face before cupping your cheek. “talk to me. i can’t be a good husband otherwise.”
that seems to be the new button he can press to get you sharing all your secrets.
“just that it would be nice to be actually wanted by you instead of just being dumped with me.”
bakugou blinks, hand freezing before frowning, “what the fuck?”
“you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, so it’s okay if you saw other people too. i think lots of marriages do this. i will probably too later on. i know you didn’t exactly want me and your parents chose me for you like mine chose you and—,”
“yn.” you think it’s the first time he’s said your name all night.
“yes?” you whisper.
“other people don’t matter, none of them matter. d’you really fuckin’ think that i didn’t choose you? that i didn’t have a say in having you as my wife? do you think you didn’t either?”
you’re silent for a moment, pondering on the idea, “what do you mean?”
bakugou huffs a laugh, “there’s loads of chiefs' daughters, army leaders' daughters across villages, even countries, neighbouring countries. even so, i don’t need this deal our parents made, i can fend for my village.”
you sit up abruptly, looking out to the navy sky and his pupils only follow you nonchalantly, “so why am i here?”
“because i want you.” bakugou claims, loud and clear, “and you wanted me too. otherwise you would have told your parents no like you did to every other dickhead suitor that came your way.”
you glance over at him and he only looks back at you.
“tell me i’m right. ask my village, i’m never fuckin’ wrong.”
your mouth opens though nothing comes out. bakugou, however, just lays back on the grass, closing his eyes. “couldn’t say no to my beat up face and what did you say earlier? sweaty body helping old ladies?”
you shove his side though he doesn’t move, he just yanks you back down into his chest.
“you’re insane.”
“they always say that to the one that knows the truth,” he lays a kiss on your forehead and you feel at home. then his tone turns stern like a lecture, “i’m yours and you’re mine. nobody is seeing anyone else.” then he stops, biting down on his lips, “but if you do ever think about that then you have to tell me—,”
you shake your head, “no, i only said that in case you did.”
“i fuckin’ don’t. you’re all i need.”
“good.” you trace your finger across his collarbone, “i guess i did choose you. i’d get love letters from the most random men and they’d even turn up at my home declaring marriage with me. a whole song and dance. then you came along with a gorgeous ring and you didn’t even have to say too much, everyone’s heard about you. i thought i said yes to get it all over and done with, my parents wanted me to marry so bad. i think i was just waiting for you.”
bakugou reaches for your hand, kissing the ring on your finger. “i was waitin’ for you too.”
“katsuki?”
“wife?” you poke his side, so he corrects himself not before rolling his eyes, “fiance? princess?”
“it’s getting chilly, so let's go indoors. i’ll put my dress back on.”
bakugou stops you from getting your clothes, “they’re dirty, i’ll just bring you inside.”
“i’m not going inside naked?!”
“i’ll cover you,” and he demonstrates how he’d do so by standing up and effortlessly dragging your body from the floor and into his arms. your chest is against his, your arms around his neck with his arm against your ass.
“your servants are going to drop dead after seeing us like this so soon.”
“they knew this would happen. they could feel the sexual tension every time you’d bite my head off for asking you a question at dinner.”
“they were always stupid questions!”
“you never gave me much to work with,” he replies and without too much thought, bakugou presses a kiss to your lips. a soft one like lovers would. “how about you come out with my friends and their wives tomorrow?”
you’re biting down on your lip and nodding before he even finishes, “as friends with benefits fiancés?”
bakugou chuckles, loud and brash, starting the walk up to your shared home, “whatever you want as long as i’m yours.”
you wrap your arms around his neck tighter as bakugou manoeuvres you both in the dark. your smile is glowing and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy, “yes chief.”
Summary: Everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst.
Yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. They had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight.
Regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss.
That assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though.
You were nowhere near ready.
Warnings: Slow burn, mutual pining, Regency era society and social rules, angst. (Separate warnings included in chapters)
cozy and content -prompts for your otp cuddling in bed
prompt list by @novelbear
drawing circles and patterns on their chest
humming/singing their partner to sleep
carefully trying to turn the lamp on the nightstand off without letting go of their partner in their arms
"what's wrong?" "your feet are cold!"
playing with their hair
laying their head on their lover's shoulder, one arm lazily wrapped around their torso and a leg over theirs
taking innocent peeks at their partner's phone every once in a while they're scrolling
"your hair smells nice..."
smiling as they feel their partner lay a firm kiss on the top of their head
"did we fall asleep?" "i think we did.."
not being able to be calm for five minutes as tickle matches ensue
sneaking photos of each other because they're just too cute
laughing when one drops their phone on their face
"we should really get up." "we should....but we won't."
feeding them fruits/other snacks they have
absentmindedly playing with the other's fingers
melting because they just look so cute all bundled up in blankets
^ like i mean they're all curled up and look small, covered up so much that all they can see are big eyes peeking out and innocently blinking at them from the blanket. how do you want them to keep a straight face.
feeling little kisses being placed on their neck, chest, or chin from time to time.
"did you just wash these sheets?" "i did." "they smell nice. and they're still warm."
holding them as if they're protecting the other from the world as they're snuggled up at their side.
Iida x Fem!Reader
Historical AU: Victorian Era
Word Count: 6466
!!: Angst-ish
Check out Kitten’s work too!
A ball. A glorious evening full of dancing, drinking, and eating the finest food. This one is supposed to be the event of the year. At least, according to your mother.
“I never have fun at these things,” you protest as your maid finishes adjusting the bustle on your dress. She melts into the background while your mother continues to prattle on about how ‘marvelous’ it will be.
⇢ tags: a/b/o, soft alpha deku, knotting, aged up characters
⇢ summary: Pro Hero Deku is a frequent visitor at your support lab and you’re grateful for it. He’s one of your high profile clients and his quirk is strong enough that he has to come for suit repairs near twice a month. It helps that he’s one of the most bearable alphas you’ve ever met, affable and kind, and he never judges you for being a rare omega in the hero line of work. It also helps that he’s painfully, absurdly hot.
You’re perhaps never more grateful for his nature than when the building housing your lab collapses with the two of you in it, and as the walls and floors of your lab crumble, so does the suppressor device that keeps your heats in check and your hormones under control. As the dust settles, you realize you are trapped by rubble and dust and twisted metal with perhaps the only alpha alive that you trust, as your adrenaline surges and your carefully suppressed heat cycle comes roaring to life.
— An accidental text to your Professor got you into this mess. Now you just had to decide if you wanted to stick along for the ride or go on pretending like it never happened. But why does he have to look at you like that?
Warnings: smut, lots of smut, age difference, language (it’s me), semi-public sex, possible non-con. All chapters will have individual warnings.
Author’s Note: You all can thank @jerkbitchidjitassbutt for supporting this bad habit of mine.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ “Thank you for the greatest summer I’ve ever had…” *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Female!Reader
Warnings: Angst; Fluff
Word Count: 8,007
A/N: This fic is a part of the bnharem summer collab, all the other amazing works can be found here! Please let me know your thoughts on this piece, I had the idea & I just ran with it honestly, & I put a lot of little messages and secret meanings in this fic heh so I truly hope that you somewhat like it! Also please don’t mind that I used the US school system for summer break ok that is all 😊🥺💕
JUNE 15TH
You always were fond of the changing of seasons, watching the way nature transformed every couple of months. At this time of year, everything outside was nothing short of vibrant as summer was finally beginning to expose itself. The rise in temperature hadn’t been lost on you though; the sun’s harsh rays beamed down harshly while you ate your lunch outdoors.
Summary: It's hard to love someone when they’ve destroyed everything you knew.
Words: 727
Masterlist
The sounds of explosions echoed in your mind. They were deafening and caused your ears to ring as you wondered how most soldiers weren’t hard of hearing.
Around you the room was dark, the only exception was an assault of colors lighting up a holographic screen before you. Shadows of the cowering citizens on Altea were cast across your father's armor. The steely shine of it reflecting his empty expression and making your stomach clench with horror.
In front of you a mother was running, a shrieking child desperately clutched in her arms. The scout that had been broadcasting closed in, and the sound of a laser preparing to fire made you swallow as a wail of agony pierced the air. Finally you turned.
“These are people! Innocents! You can't wage war on them just because you have the ability too!”
“You are angry, but one day you will understand that I did it for you and for our people.”
“Angry, angry! Of course i am angry! I have a right to be angry! How could you say this is for our people when they are just as desperate and confused as the people on the planet below us!”
“Alfor DESTROYED our planet! Diabazal is no more, it is only fitting that Altea is obliterated as well.”
Your voice became thick with sorrow and the burning of tears filled your eyes. “You've ruined everything. The people of Altea were our friends now what will become of them? Of little baby Allura and her parents?”
For a moment you were sure your father's-Zarkon's face had sunken in as the weight of what he had done hit him. You were sure you’d seen the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes that hinted at the tears he was holding back. That it hadn’t been your imagination when dark circles appeared under his eyes as he stared at his feet. It must’ve been because when he turned to face you there was no sign of any remorse, or of any guilt for what he had done.
“What becomes of them does not particularly concern me, what happens will happen.”
The tears unexpectedly cleared from your eyes and you suddenly felt as if you were on fire. The numbness from the sadness you had been feeling faded and a painful burning sensation took its place. It spread from one limb to the next leaving beads of perspiration in its wake while your lips pulled apart.
“You're a monster! Monster!” you howled dementedly as you lunged for your once loving father.
You had just barely slammed into him, just barely wrapped your fingers around his throat when hands seized your own and restrained you. Vision red from anger you continued to thrash and scream, trying vainly to get to the person you once loved.
“Enough.” it was a single word but the smooth baritone of Zarkons voice cut through your banshee like screaming. “If you will not join me, I do not have any use for you. Put her in a cell until her mind has been changed, perhaps then we will talk.”
Breathing raggedly you slumped against the soldiers holding you in place, before lifting your head to get one last look at your reigning king. Your eyes were bloodshot and dead at a glance but if one were to look deeply into them they would see the storm hiding, ready to sink any ship looking to cross their seas. Your throat felt raw from the yelling and it burned when you began to speak, a sneer on your lips.
“One day, one day you will feel regret for what you have done and it will be too late because the galaxy won't remain scared forever. Eventually there will be people who fight back to free themselves of your tyranny, and when those people come,” A raspy sigh left your mouth and a manic grin spanned your face. “They will end you. Father.”
With a nod from Zarkon you were gone, dragged down the halls kicking and screaming spittle flying from your lips as you were plunged into the blackness of a cell. As the yelling faded an unbelieving gasp escaped him and he staggered back as a tear fell down his face when he realized he was finally alone.
