`Hi! I wanted to ask the Love and Deepspace team to keep Valko's launch. I agree he deserved more time in the spotlight before the launch, deserved more build-up, but genuinely I've been so excited for him. Please reconsider your decision on removing him. For all the negativity, there are so many more people out here who do want him around. Don't give up on us!`
`Valko was a highly anticipated addition to the game and many Global fans find this decision to remove him to be poorly thought out. We love him already and want the love and care that his artists and writers poured into him to be made available to his fans. Please reconsider and bring Valko back! Especially out of respect for the artists, writers, and his voice actors!`
`Dear Love and Deepspace Team,I'm writing because I'm deeply disappointed by the decision to cancel Valko.I understand that the team is responding to community feedback, but many players were genuinely excited for Valko and were looking forward to his story. It feels unfair that the support for him was overshadowed by the backlash.I have supported Love and Deepspace every month by spending money on the game because I truly love it. This is the first time I have ever seriously considered quitting because of a decision like this.Please reconsider bringing Valko back. We need him as part of the six love interests. Without him, the game feels incomplete.Thank you for your time, and I sincerely hope Valko will return.___________主题：关于敖尹的玩家心声——恳请重新考虑亲爱的恋与深空团队：感谢你们在这段艰难时期倾听玩家的声音。我知道过去几天对所有人来说都不容易，也很感激你们的团队愿意直接回应玩家的反馈。我想以一个对取消敖尹这一决定感到非常心痛的玩家身份，给你们写这封信。从他第一次公布的那一刻起，他的设计和身世之谜就深深吸引了我。在长时间等待新角色之后，他重新点燃了我对这款游戏的期待，我一直很期待了解他的故事，看他如何融入这个世界。我理解大家的不满。已有角色的长期未更新剧情确实需要被重视，这些诉求是合理的。但我不认为敖尹本身是问题所在,取消他并不能解决这些问题，反而让另一部分期待迎接他的玩家感到失望。我也想到了所有为他付出心血的人：编剧、美术、动画师、程序员、音乐制作人、配音演员们，他们投入了大量时间和精力才让这个角色得以呈现。如果这些努力最终无法让玩家体验到，实在令人惋惜。恳请你们考虑除永久取消之外的其他方案。哪怕他的上线需要推迟，等现有角色得到应有的剧情更新之后再说，我也愿意等待，相信很多玩家也是如此。恋与深空一直以来都致力于为玩家创造难忘的回忆，而敖尹在我们真正与他相遇之前，就已经在很多人心中留下了意义。无论你们最终做出怎样的决定，我都希望你们能记得，有许多玩家曾经为他感到期待，也仍然希望有一天他能在恋与深空中找到属于自己的位置。感谢你们读完这封信。`
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`Hello IGN team,I wanted to send a tip about a major developing controversy in the Love and Deepspace fandom.Today, the official Love and Deepspace account announced that Valko, the game’s newly revealed sixth love interest, has been canceled.This is especially notable because Valko had only just been announced as the game’s sixth male lead, with his debut planned for Version 6.0. His reveal triggered intense backlash, particularly from parts of the Chinese player base. Much of the criticism focused on his appearance, his “Westernized” design, and the belief that his addition would take resources away from the existing love interests.However, the backlash appears to have gone far beyond normal criticism. Players have been circulating reports and screenshots alleging death threats, harassment, funeral-themed protest items, cow dung being sent to or left near the company’s HQ, and discriminatory comments aimed at the character’s perceived Western appeal and werewolf-coded/queer-coded presentation. There have also been widespread accusations from global fans that some of the backlash included racist and homophobic rhetoric.The reason I think this is newsworthy is that the company appears to have fully capitulated to the most hostile side of the backlash. By canceling Valko outright after his reveal, many players feel Love and Deepspace is effectively rewarding harassment and discriminatory fandom behavior rather than drawing a line against it. Fans who were excited for Valko are now upset not only because the character was canceled, but because the decision seems to validate the harassment campaign against him.This could be a significant story about live-service games, otome fandom, Chinese/global player-base tensions, and what happens when companies respond to extreme fan backlash by removing announced content.Thank you for looking into it.`
Further email options and actions: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1vCH71CCf6JzcmicrC01xO20AhOArl7eg8SVMV0Owh0w/edit?usp=sharing
synopsis: when you were fifteen, you wrote love letters to a fake address. at twenty eight, you received a reply.
pairing: prohero!eijirou kirishima x quirklesslawyer!reader
warnings: explicit sexual content eventually, mdni. currently fluff galore (with a little angst) in this chapter lol! some bigotry, beware
masterlist | next
wc: 2.4k
a/n: this is such a romcom inspired series 🥹 it's loosely based on to all the boys i've loved before and another cinderella story if I'm being completely honest.. but i've included a more serious topic of quirk discrimination in this work and i expect to have more incidents as reader is a lawyer! ⚖️ so potential violence and regular hero fights in the future as well.
valentine's day was the worst.
it was a humiliation ritual. specifically after they stopped the fun class boxes where you were able to get platonically shared candies and cards, morphing into more serious romantic endeavors. every class was interrupted by valentine's grams that your school choir did to raise money, and so you had to listen to cheesy love songs at random. to put it simply, you were sick of the dreaded holiday.
you weren't really unlikable. far from it, actually. you had friends—got invited to the more popular birthday parties, sat at a consistent lunch table. it's just that the department of love wasn't exactly scheduling appointments with you often. or at all.
sure, there was kaito in sixth year who sent you a rose with a cute note. only, you found out later that it was a mix-up and was intended for sana, the girl who was your locker neighbor. later you had a thing for ryota in your eighth year, but quickly learned after a few rumors that he was caught kissing a fairly popular boy named ren in the gym storage room. all the more power to him, no judgment here.
by your first year of high school, you were tired. must love be so hard? sometimes you just wished it just fell into your lap on a warm spring day. you buried yourself in stories of epic romance, yearn far and wide. princesses and childhood best friends, to forbidden lovers and fated ties. your nature of daydreaming conveniently found you at your desk in the late hours of the night, scribbling away on the nice stationary papers your aunt gave you for your birthday.
with giddy excitement, you hurry to seal the letter in the matching envelope, licking it shut. you look at the corner of the mail, the empty space with the address staring right back at you. a mischievous little smile tugs at your lips. maybe you can make one up? surely no one would actually send it. it would most likely sit in a landfill after the post office would realize it wasn't real, you thought. that's perfect!
you wrote in your neatest handwriting:
142-0934
Shizuoka, Musutafu, 1-43-70
Kyomei Building 150
Japan
you knew that it was a one in a trillion chance that this place even existed. no way, you knew pretty much all of the apartments in musutafu. none were named kyomei to your knowledge. you slipped the letter into your backpack, called a quick “bye, mom!” down the stairs, and practically skipped the whole way to the mailbox on the corner. the metal flap shut loudly after you dropped it in, clanging in finality.
the letter vanished into the vast void as far as you knew because no reply ever came, reaffirming your belief that this was a legitimate way to vent out your feelings.
you didn’t know it then, but the universe has a terrible sense of humor when it comes to granting wishes.
obliviously, you kept writing whenever you felt that ache for something more bothered you too much. you'd pour your heart out to the mystery man who lived at the non-existent address in your city. you told him about bad scores, watching your classmates harness their quirks while you had to silently cheer them on.
you wrote away about your fears, hopes, dreams that you still selfishly believed in. you even told him about your parents' divorce that came abruptly during your junior year of high school, something that was difficult for you to divulge to anyone about.
you didn't know how many letter you had sent before you finally ceased them. must have been at least thirty, or something in the range. you ended up opting to become a realist like your father always preached to you. you threw yourself into your studies like your life depended on it. you knew that law was your best route given your status as a quirkless person. it certainly helped that you loved the thrill of a debate. your nice stationary started to gather dust in the bottom of your desk drawer, but you couldn't live in your fantasy world forever.
eventually, your work paid off and you graduate in the top 1% of your class. you landed a junior associate position at a mid-tier firm that handled quirk discrimination cases right out of university. you found peace in burying yourself in your work, preferring to drown out your thoughts with legal jargon and witness statements.
three years go by, and you find yourself in a position of disgust once more when your office decided to hold a floor valentine's day party. courtesy of your lovely co-worker yuma, a very sparky and jumpy woman who loved to hug anyone and everyone. she was sweet, but definitely a lot to deal with when you already work a high-stress job.
"listen, it's just one date! pleeeease, i promise you'll have fun!" the pink haired woman is practically on her knees at your desk, hoping you'll cave. you let out a small groan.
"you're covering annotations for the next three cases i have this week. deal?" she immediately launches into a fit of squeals, jumping up and down. "thank you thank you thank you! ahh, my matchmaking side job is finally taking off," she leaves your office as quickly as she came, you unable to get another word in. you take a deep sigh. whatever, it's just a couple hours.
unfortunately for you, the man yuma picked was probably the last guy you'd approach in a room full of people.
yuma swore he was ‘normal, stable, and really tall’. he was definitely tall. but along with that came an arrogance that could mirror endeavor.
"so yuma mentioned you’re quirkless,” he said, leaning in like he wanted to speak in hushed tones. “that’s actually really inspiring. i mean, look at you! working at a law firm, still putting yourself out there. most quirkless people just… accept their place, you know? support roles. administrative stuff. that’s where they shine.”
your chopsticks paused mid-air.
“support roles,” you repeated slowly.
“yeah! like, you’re clearly smart. you could be an amazing legal assistant for hero agencies. or work in quirk regulation policy. that’s important work. not everyone needs to be in the spotlight.”
you gave him your best professional smile, the one you used in depositions when you were trying your best not to rip someone a new one.
“actually,” you said calmly, “i just won a discrimination settlement last month for a quirkless teacher who was denied promotion. precedent-setting case. i argued it myself in front of the district panel.”
haruto blinked, and then laughed like you had told a cute joke.
“wow. feisty. i like that! didn't know they gave young lawyers cases so early on.” you fought the urge to stab yourself in the eye.
"i've been doing cases since i got out of law school. i'm twenty eight."
the rest of the dinner was a slow descent. he kept steering every topic back to quirks, which clearly got old the moment he spoke the first time. you were ready to leave when he went on about how his reinforcement quirk made him 'decent in bed, by the way'. every time you tried to shift the conversation to something normal like books, travel, or literally anything else, he circled back.
when the check finally arrived, you pulled out your card faster than he could react. with haste you say your goodbyes and make up an excuse about an early morning hearing. you leave haruto in the dust of his own bigotry, good riddance.
you finally got home at eleven, kicking off your heels and pouring yourself a generous glass of red wine. and then another, staring at the wall for twenty full minutes. drinking alone with no music was genuinely one of the saddest things you've done in recent times.
you flop onto your bed, looking at your window with a sigh. your eyes wander lower to your desk, catching at a familiar pink box. your stationary box.
you sloppily crawl across your bed, making way to pick it up from underneath all your files. it was slightly yellowed, smelling faintly of your teenage bedroom. your hands moved on autopilot, the wine loosening everything you’d kept locked away for years. against your better judgment, you had already whipped out a pen and the same parchment you had used all those years ago.
you sign it with your full name as you always had done. penned down the address without another thought, slipping on your coat and walking the three block to your mailbox to drop it in.
you chuckled to yourself sadly on the way back. “idiot,” you mutter. strangely, your chest did feel lighter. when you arrived back at your place, you instantly fell asleep as the drinking ultimately worked as your melatonin.
a week later, you're back to your routine and forget you even sent the letter. work raged on as it did, and so did your exhaustion. it had been a particularly brutal day with multiple back to back meetings. your shoulders were knotted tight, eyes burning from staring at your computer for hours. all you wanted was a hot shower and some katsudon.
you almost skipped checking the mailroom on your way up, nearly walking past the row of silver boxed in the lobby of your building. you stop because of muscle memory, unlocking the small metal thing as usual. your pupils skim the papers quickly. junk mail, water bill.. a cream colored envelope. you almost drop the whole stack.
your name was written across the front in clean, confident handwriting. it was slightly slanted, but nice to look at. the return address made your stomach flip so violently you had to grip the edge of the mailbox with your free hand.
the postmark was real, three days old. the stamp was a standard issue cherry blossom design. everything about it look painfully legitimate. you fight the urge to scream in the empty place. for a long moment, you just stood there with your heart slamming against your ribs. this was not funny in the slightest but it had to be a prank. a cruel coincidence! maybe someone found your old letters and decided to mess with you. or you were hallucinating from the lack of sleep and too many cans of celsius.
with a jerky movement, you don't wait for the elevator and take the stairs like a lunatic. two at a time, shallow breathing. the second you step inside your place you kicked the door shut with a slam, dropping your stuff and the rest of the mail on the floor with no decorum. you sat down at the kitchen nook still wearing your coat and heels.
your fingers tremble as you slid a nail under the sealed flap. inside was a single sheet of matching cream stationery with red accents, folded once. the handwriting was the same neat and sharp script. you had to read the first line three times before your brain accepted that words were actually there, written.
you lowered the paper slowly, your head spinning.
you were going to be sick.
kyomei 150 has a real resident. a real resident, who got your fucking letter.
⋮ 𓏲ּ𝄢 ┆in which your a dutiful princess sent to marry the barbarian dragon king of the scarlet region for the sake of an alliance, only to find yourself caught between your terrifying new husband and the fiercely loyal dragon hybrid who slowly becomes just as possessive of you as the king himself.
⧼ 🏵️ ⧽ ∿ pairings 。 ⸝⸝ katsuki bakugo x fem!reader x eijiro kirishima 𓄲 genre ⨾ tropes 。 alternative universe (au: fantasy), romance, arrange marriage, polyamorous romance, slight angst, mature themes, explicit sexual scenes, pwp 𓏲 contains 。 ᵎᵎ nsfw, 18+ only mdni, language, some world building, barbarian/dragon king!katsuki, dragon hybrid!eijiro, princess!reader, political marriage slight misogyny, slight jealousy, smut, threesome, dirty talks, virgin!reader, dom!katsuki, softdom!eijiro, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv sex, multiple orgasm, size kink, praise kink, breeding kink, slight degradation, missionary, cowgirl, cuckholding, spit roasting, pet names (princess, sweetheart, queen, good girl) ꩜ ⋆.˚ word count 。 18.8k ꔛ
꒰ star speaks ꒱ ✮ this idea was originally supposed to be just katsuki x reader but considering kiri is katsuki’s dragon companion in the fantasy au made me want to add him. . . and a lot of you thought the same because kiribaku x reader won the poll ( thank you to everyone who voted btw ) 👀 also, this is my version of the fantasy au considering there is not that much lore behind it. this took forever so here it is, ya nasties, hope you enjoy! ‹𝟹
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you were a princess, born with noble and royal blood that carried the weight of generations before you. it was a quiet certainty that had never once been questioned as it settled into every part of your life from the moment you first opened your eyes.
as the youngest princess of the emerald empire, your place in the world had been decided long before you were old enough to understand what it meant, long before you could even speak your own name.
your older brother was raised to be the heir, the future king who would rule with authority and knowledge, taught to lead and command and carry the legacy of your family forward, while you were something else entirely. you were softer in appearance but just as important. a princess who would one day be placed where she was most useful, a piece in the quiet and constant game that was the monarchy.
you were loved, there was never a doubt about that.
it showed in the way your parents looked at you, in way your brother indulged you, in the way the entire palace seemed to soften around your presence. you were the only princess, the youngest child, and you were treated as something precious, something to be protected and cherished, and they spoiled you in ways that made your life comfortable and warm, but even in that warmth there were rules that never changed.
your family was traditional, deeply so, and their love never wavered from the expectations they held for you.
from a young age, you were taught what it meant to be a woman in your position, and those lessons were repeated so often that they became second nature, something you accepted without hesitation.
a woman’s first duty was to be a wife, to stand beside her husband and give him children, however many he desired, without complaint, without question, because that was her purpose. the second duty followed naturally, to be a mother, to raise those children, to nurture them while the husband worked and ruled and carried on the responsibilities outside the home.
it was a cycle that had existed long before you and would continue long after, and you saw it in the women who came before you, in your mother who carried herself with quiet grace as she fulfilled her role, in your grandmother, in your great grandmother, and every woman in your lineage who had done the same without hesitation.
you never questioned it, not once, because it was all you had ever known, and there was a kind of comfort in that certainty.
this is what you are meant to be.
the thought came easily and without resistance, and you accepted it as truth.
while your father spent his time guiding your older brother through the complexities of ruling, teaching him about politics, the history of their land, the alliances and conflicts with foreign nations, you were guided down a different path entirely.
your mother oversaw your upbringing with careful attention, shaping you into what she believed a proper royal woman should be. she taught you discipline, how to hold yourself, how to move, how to speak with intention and restraint, and she taught you grace, the kind that made every action appear effortless even when it was practiced a thousand times before.
you spent countless hours learning what was expected of you, your days filled with lessons in etiquette where every gesture mattered, where the way you held a teacup or greeted a noble could reflect not just on you but on your entire family. you learned to dance, not simply for enjoyment but as a skill, something that would be required of you in court and gatherings, your steps precise and controlled under the watchful eyes of your instructors. you studied cultures beyond your own, memorizing traditions, customs, and expectations of other lands so that one day you would not embarrass your future husband’s court.
and above all else, you were taught obedience. it was a necessity. it would allow you to become the perfect wife you were meant to be.
you listened, you learned, and you never resisted, because there was nothing in you that wanted to. you were good, you were proper, you were everything they needed you to be.
so when the time finally came, when you reached the age where marriage was no longer a distant idea but an immediate reality, you did not protest when the arrangements were made, you did not question the decision when your future was decided for you.
you were told where you would go, who you would marry, and what it would mean for your kingdom, and you accepted it with the same quiet understanding you had always carried.
that was how you found yourself leaving the emerald empire, the only home you had ever known, and being sent to the scarlet region.
the difference between the two lands was impossible to ignore, it settled into your senses the moment you crossed the borders, the shift so stark that it almost felt unreal.
the emerald empire lived up to its name in every sense, a land rich with deep green forests that stretched endlessly, fields of flowers that bloomed in colors that softened the eye, rivers that reflected the sky like glass as they wound through the kingdom. the air there had always felt light, fresh, filled with the scent of earth and life, and the palace itself stood tall and elegant among it all, a place that felt open and welcoming even in its grandeur.
the scarlet region was something else entirely.
it rose from the land like something carved from the bones of the earth itself, a kingdom built atop a massive dark mountain that seemed to loom over everything around it. the stone was not polished or soft in appearance, it was jagged in places, heavy as if it had been shaped by fire and force rather than careful hands. the ground beneath it was uneven, darkened by ash and heat, and the closer you came, the more you could feel the difference in the air. it was thicker, warmer, carrying the faint scent of smoke that never fully disappeared.
the mountain itself stretched high, its peak often hidden behind dark clouds that clung to it as if they belonged there, and somewhere deeper within. there was the constant reminder of the volcano that gave the region its name, a presence that could not be seen fully but was always felt. it was not a place of soft beauty, it was a place that demanded attention. it felt alive in a harsher, more dangerous way, and yet there was something undeniably powerful about it.
the fortress that stood upon it was just as imposing, built from the same dark stone, rising high with sharp edges and heavy walls that spoke more of strength than elegance. it was not delicate, not meant to impress with grace, but with dominance, with the kind of presence that made it clear this was a kingdom that did not bend easily.
this was where you were meant to belong now, far from the green and gentle lands of your home, in a place that burned in scarlet and shadow, where everything far less forgiving.
and yet you stepped forward without hesitation, because this was your duty, and you had always known that one day you would be sent away to fulfill it.
you knew since you were ten.
the memory had settled into you quietly, it wasn’t a shock to you, it was inevitable. it had always been waiting for you even before you were old enough to understand what it meant.
it had been a warm afternoon in the emerald empire.
you had been seated beside your mother, your hands folded neatly in your lap as you were taught to do, your back straight even then because discipline had already rooted itself deep into your bones.
your father and your older brother had been speaking across the long table, their voices calm but firm, their words carrying weight even if you did not fully grasp them at the time. you remembered the way your mother’s hand rested lightly over yours, a silent instruction to listen, to pay attention, to understand that what was being discussed was important.
it was then that you first heard of the treaty.
not just a simple agreement, not just a passing arrangement between two lands, but something far more binding, something that would shape the future of both nations and, though you did not know it yet, your own life.
the emerald empire, prosperous and abundant, a land overflowing with natural wealth, had long held resources that other nations sought after. among them, the most prized were the emeralds themselves, stones that were not only symbols of status and power but also held practical value in trade, crafting, and even in certain forms of energy use that had been developed over time.
the scarlet region, in contrast, was not a land of abundance in that sense, but it held something far more dangerous and far more valuable in times of unrest.
power.
military strength that few could rival.
the treaty, as it had been explained in terms that would later become clearer to you as you grew older, was both an agreement of peace and a formal alliance. it was structured with precision, written in language that left little room for misinterpretation, signed under the authority of both ruling powers to ensure its permanence.
the emerald empire shall supply the scarlet region with an agreed upon and consistent quantity of emerald resources, the amount determined through mutual negotiation and subject to periodic reassessment under stable conditions.
in return, the scarlet region shall provide military support to the emerald empire, offering protection, reinforcement, and armed assistance in times of conflict, threat, or war, under the obligations defined within the alliance.
it was balanced and it made sense, even to those who were not directly involved in politics.
one land provided wealth, the other provided strength. together, they ensured stability, or at the very least, the illusion of it.
but treaties like that were rarely sealed by ink alone.
they required something more binding, something that ensured loyalty beyond written words.
and that was where you came in.
the alliance was finalized not only through the signatures of two rulers but through a betrothal.
between you, the youngest and only princess of the emerald empire and the sole heir of the scarlet region, katsuki bakugo.
you did not know his name at ten in the way you would come to know it later.
back then, it had just been a name spoken among many others, one that held importance but did not yet carry weight in your mind. you had simply listened, your gaze lowered as expected, your fingers resting against your mother’s as she gently squeezed your hand once, a quiet reassurance or perhaps a reminder.
this is your duty.
as you grew older, the details became clearer.
the scarlet region did not follow the same traditions as your homeland. where the emerald empire upheld strict customs, where succession was determined by lineage and only passed on upon death to the oldest son, the scarlet region operated under a different set of rules, ones that were far less rigid and far more dangerous.
there, a ruler could step down whenever they deemed it appropriate. there was no obligation to rule until death. there was no enforced waiting.
at first, it sounded almost freeing, almost progressive in a way that contrasted your own structured upbringing. but as you learned more, as history lessons became more detailed and less softened for your ears, you began to understand what that truly meant.
power did not remain in the hands of those who were unwilling to give it up.
not for long.
stories, whispered at first and then later taught more directly, spoke of rulers who had been found lifeless in their chambers, their bodies still and cold before any official declaration of abdication had been made. others were said to have fallen ill suddenly, their decline too quick, too convenient, leaving the throne open for the next in line.
poison.
assassination.
betrayal.
these were not rare occurrence, they were part of the system.
the scarlet region thrived on strength, and strength was proven not just in battle but in the ability to take and to hold power by any means necessary. it was a land where weakness was not tolerated, where hesitation could mean death, and where loyalty was often conditional.
they were barbaric in nature, as many in your homeland described them, though never in official statements. it was a quiet understanding, one that lingered beneath formal diplomacy.
and yet, despite that, or perhaps because of it, they were powerful.
that power was what your kingdom needed.
that power was what secured your fate.
katsuki bakugo had ascended the throne in his early twenties, far earlier than most rulers in your own land would have ever been allowed to. but his case had been different.
his father had never wanted the crown. that much had been made clear in every account you had heard.
he had ruled because he had to, because the position had been his responsibility, but there had never been any true desire behind it. and so, the moment he believed his son was capable, the moment he was certain that the boy had grown into someone strong enough to take over, he stepped down.
willingly.
a rare occurrence in a land where most rulers had power taken from them rather than surrendered.
that was how katsuki became king.
young, powerful, and already carrying a reputation that spread far beyond the scarlet region itself.
they called him the dragon king.
the title alone was enough to spark curiosity when you first heard it, but the explanation behind it made it something else entirely.
he rode a dragon.
not just any beast, not just some distant creature tamed through force, but one bound to him in a way that was deeper, more personal, more dangerous.
eijiro kirishima is a dragon hybrid and katsuki’s right hand, his closest companion, his weapon, and his ally.
the stories described them as inseparable, two forces that moved as one, their presence on the battlefield enough to turn the tide of war before it had even fully begun. it was said that when the dragon king took flight, when the skies burned with the presence of that creature beneath him, there was no room left for doubt.
fear followed then victory followed short after… always.
and now, that same man was the one you were meant to marry.
though the pair interested you more than anything.
hybrids were rare.
even in lands filled with strange creatures, old bloodlines, and ancient magic that had existed long before kingdoms were ever built, hybrids remained uncommon enough to be spoken about with curiosity and caution. stories about them traveled across nations in whispers and rumors, changing slightly depending on who told them, but one thing always remained the same.
once a hybrid found the one they belonged to, their loyalty became absolute.
it was said they did not serve the way ordinary soldiers served a king. it went deeper than duty and far beyond simple obedience. the bond between a hybrid and their chosen master was something fierce, instinctive, almost animalistic in nature. once formed, it lasted for life.
they protected, obeyed, and stayed.
even death itself was said to struggle separating a hybrid from the one they devoted themselves to.
you had heard stories growing up in the emerald empire. servants whispered about dragon shifters in hushed voices while preparing your baths or brushing your hair. noble women spoke of them with fascination during gatherings while men discussed them as weapons that could change the outcome of wars. some stories painted hybrids as dangerous beasts pretending to be human while others claimed they were more loyal than any knight sworn by oath.
you had never seen one before.
not until now.
the realization settled into you the moment the large doors of the throne room opened.
the room was massive, carved from dark stone that stretched high above your head into towering ceilings supported by enormous pillars etched with old markings and scars from time. fire burned from iron braziers mounted against the walls, their flames casting flickering orange light across the gloomy chamber. unlike the bright halls of the emerald empire filled with sunlight and polished marble, this place felt heavy.
ancient.
the air itself carried the faint scent of smoke and iron.
your footsteps echoed softly as you walked forward.
the king’s council and court lined both sides of the long walkway leading toward the throne, their eyes fixed entirely on you. warriors stood among nobles instead of guards standing separately from politicians like in your homeland. here they seemed to blend together into one brutal court where strength mattered just as much as status.
you could feel their stares. some were curious. some judgmental. some openly assessing you as though trying to determine whether the foreign princess walking toward their king was worthy enough to stand beside him.
still, your posture never faltered. not once.
your head remained high, your expression calm and serene exactly as you had been taught since childhood. every movement was graceful and measured as you walked across the dark stone floor.
your dress stood out immediately against the dullness of the castle.
soft lilac silk flowed around your body with every step, the fabric delicate and elegant beneath the firelight. silver embroidery climbed along the sleeves and bodice in intricate patterns resembling vines and blooming flowers from your homeland. sheer layers of fabric draped from your arms and trailed lightly behind you across the floor.
in this dark place of stone and ash and smoke, the dress almost looked unreal.
the only other strong color in the room came from the red-haired hybrid standing beside the throne.
his hair was bright like burning crimson beneath the firelight, wild and striking against skin. large dragon wings rested folded behind him, the scales along them dark red and gleaming faintly. even from where you stood, you could see sharp scales trailing along parts of his neck and arms while red horns stuck on his forehead.
and his eyes never left the king.
you understood the stories then.
slowly, you reached the foot of the stairs leading toward the throne.
without hesitation, you lowered yourself into a proper curtsy, bowing your head respectfully. though you were royalty yourself, you stood in a foreign kingdom before another ruler. your mother had drilled that lesson into you countless times growing up.
respect the customs of the land you stand in.
your voice was soft and composed when you spoke. “my king.”then you lifted your gaze and finally saw him properly.
katsuki bakugo sat sprawled across the throne like he had been born for it… like the throne itself belonged beneath him.
his vermillion eyes locked onto yours immediately, sharp and intense enough to make your breath still for a moment. his ash blond hair looked messy and untamed as though no one would dare attempt controlling it.
he looked dangerous, beautifully dangerous.
his entire torso was bare, leaving every inch of hard muscle exposed beneath the firelight. scars littered parts of his skin, old marks that only made him appear even rougher, even more intimidating. his body looked carved from stone itself, broad shoulders leading down to a powerful chest and strong arms wrapped with strips of orange fabric around his forearms and hands.
a dark red cape lined with thick fur rested across his shoulders, the heavy material falling behind him while the fur framed his neck. black tattered pants hung low on his hips tucked into worn brown boots that looked made for battle instead of ceremony. and around his neck hung layered necklaces made from stone, jade, teeth, and rough beads that clicked softly whenever he moved.
beside his throne rested a massive broadsword. the blade alone looked large enough to split a man in half.
the room had gone silent.
completely silent.
your eyes remained locked with his as he slowly stood from his throne. the movement alone shifted the atmosphere in the room. he descended the stairs with slow swaggering steps, each one heavy against the stone floor. he did not rush. he looked like a predator approaching something that had caught his attention.
his eyes never left yours.
not once.
when he finally stopped in front of you, his body towered over yours easily.
you suddenly understood why stories about him spread across kingdoms because there was something overwhelming about him, something that demanded attention.
your breath caught quietly in your throat when he suddenly lifted a hand and pinched your chin between his fingers. his touch was rough as it was warm. he tilted your head upward slightly so he could look at you better.
the entire room seemed to hold its breath.
you could feel his gaze dragging across your face slowly, studying every detail in silence for several long seconds… then his lip curled.
“tch. at least they had the decency to send me a pretty little princess.” his voice was rough and deep, carrying easily through the silent throne room.
heat crept beneath your skin instantly.
before you could even react, he scoffed and released your chin before turning away slightly. “i might actually kill them then myself if they had given me one that looked like a mountain troll.”
a few people in the court laughed nervously.
you stayed perfectly still.
then katsuki waved a hand dismissively. “eijiro, send the woman to her quarters.”
the command was directed toward the red-haired hybrid beside the throne.
unlike katsuki’s permanent snarl and sharp gaze, the hybrid smiled warmly at you the moment his name was called.
and somehow, in this cold dark throne room filled with warriors and strangers, that smile was the first thing that felt welcoming.
you walked through the dark halls of the castle in silence, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly against the stone beneath your shoes as the heavy doors of the throne room closed behind you.
in the corridor, the walls were made from dark stone carved rough in some places and smooth in others as though parts of the castle had been built directly into the mountain itself. large torches lined the hallways every few feet, their flames flickering wildly and casting shifting shadows across the walls and floors. the firelight painted everything in deep shades of orange and gold, but it did little to soften the gloom surrounding the place.
there were no large windows letting sunlight spill through the halls. no fresh scent of flowers drifting through open corridors. instead the air carried traces of smoke, leather, iron, and something faintly earthy that reminded you of ash after rain.
in front of you, eijiro walked at an easy pace as he guided you through the winding halls just as the king had ordered.
your eyes drifted toward him quietly.
back in the throne room, nearly all of your attention had been trapped on katsuki bakugo himself. it had been impossible not to stare at him when he looked the way he did sitting upon that throne like some wild king from ancient stories.
now, with the two of you alone in the halls, this was the first time you truly got a proper look at the dragon hybrid.
your gaze slowly scanned over him.
like katsuki, his torso was completely bare beneath the warm firelight, exposing toned muscle across his back and shoulders that shifted with every step he took. his body looked strong in a different way than the king’s. where katsuki carried sharpness and intimidation, eijiro looked sturdy and grounded… protective.
metal pauldrons rested over his shoulders, dark and jagged in shape almost resembling broken pieces of rock layered over one another. leather bracers wrapped around his forearms while fitted leather pants and armored boots completed the rest of his attire. several knives rested securely along the belt around his waist.
but none of that held your attention for long. your eyes kept returning to the scales.
patches of deep red scales spread across parts of his arms and shoulders, blending into his tan skin naturally. more scales traced along the sides of his face near his jaw and temples, catching the firelight whenever he moved.
his hair was a vivid red that matched the horns protruding from his forehead. large leathery wings remained tucked behind him neatly despite their size, the dark red membranes shifting slightly every now and then as he walked.
you had never seen anything like him before.
your staring lasted just a second too long.
eijiro glanced over his shoulder before a grin spread across his face. “y’know, princess, if you keep staring at me like that i’m gonna start thinkin’ you like what you see.”
heat rushed to your face instantly. your eyes widened before you quickly looked away. “i’m so sorry,” you said softly, your voice embarrassed. “i did not mean to stare.” you hesitated for a moment before glancing back at him carefully. “it is just... this is my first time seeing a hybrid in person. let alone a dragon hybrid.”
eijiro let out a warm chuckle. “hey, don’t worry about it,” he said easily, waving a hand dismissively. “seriously. there’s no need to apologize. i get that a lot.”
his relaxed tone eased some of your embarrassment almost immediately.
you looked at him again, more carefully this time. “does it bother you?”
“nah.” he shrugged. “people get curious. especially people from other kingdoms. honestly, i’d probably stare too if i saw somebody with giant wings for the first time.”
you found yourself smiling faintly at that. the sight seemed to encourage him further.
“plus,” he continued with a grin, “you’ve been pretty respectful about it. some people act weird.”
“weird?”
“yeah.” he snorted. “either they’re terrified or they ask if i breathe fire.”
your brows lifted slightly. “can you?”
eijiro barked out a laugh so suddenly that it echoed through the hallway. “okay, see? that one’s fair.”
you lowered your gaze quickly, suddenly feeling foolish. “i apologize. that was inappropriate.”
“hey, no.” he shook his head immediately. “i’m messing with you. i do breathe fire. only on my dragon form though.”
his easygoing nature made conversation strangely comfortable despite how unfamiliar everything around you was. for a moment, the tightness sitting in your chest since arriving at the scarlet region loosened slightly.
“so,” eijiro said after a moment, glancing at you curiously. “what’s the emerald empire really like?”
your expression softened. “It is beautiful,” you answered quietly. “very different from here.”
you looked around the dim hallway before continuing.l “there are gardens everywhere. flowers grow along most parts of the palace grounds and the walls are covered with vines and roses during warmer seasons.”
eijiro listened closely. “sounds nice.”
“It is peaceful,” you admitted. “the air smells sweet during spring.”
“huh.” he smiled. “guess this place probably feels kinda… intense compared to that.”
you hesitated before nodding slightly. “a little.”
he laughed softly. “yeah, sounds about right.”
for a few moments the two of you continued walking while talking quietly.
you asked him questions about the castle, about the scarlet region, about dragons and hybrids. he answered all of them openly, seeming almost excited by your curiosity rather than annoyed by it.
in return, he asked about your home, what kind of things you liked, whether all nobility in the emerald empire were taught so formally.
“pretty much,” you admitted softly.
“that sounds exhausting.” eijiro said.
“it can be.” you let out the faintest laugh.
eijiro glanced at you again before speaking carefully.“you nervous?”
you knew immediately what he meant. your fingers tightened lightly together.
“about the king?”
he nodded.
you were quiet for a moment before speaking honestly. “i do not think he likes me.”
eijiro suddenly laughed. not cruelly, almost fondly. “trust me,” he said, shaking his head. “you’d know if katsuki doesn’t like you.”
“I would?” your brows furrowed slightly.
“oh, definitely.” he grinned. “he’s not exactly subtle.”
you thought back to the throne room. to the way katsuki had looked at you, the roughness in his voice, and to the way his fingers had held your chin.
your face warmed slightly at the memory.
eijiro noticed immediately and grinned wider. “see?”
you quickly looked away. “i simply assumed he was displeased by this arrangement.”
“well,” eijiro admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “he definitely wasn’t happy about being forced into marriage at first.”
your chest tightened slightly, but before you could speak, he continued.
“katsuki’s just bad with people sometimes. especially women.”
you blinked. “women?”
“pretty women,” he corrected with a teasing grin.
you looked down immediately, embarrassed at his constant compliments towards you.
eijiro laughed softly again before continuing more gently. “seriously though, don’t overthink him too much. he’s rough around the edges but he’s a good person. you’ll see pretty soon how he actually is when he dislikes somebody.”
the conversation slowly drifted again before you asked quietly, “how long have you known him?”
eijiro’s expression softened immediately. “since we were kids.”
you looked up at him curiously while he smiled faintly down at you.
“hunters caught me when i was eight,” he explained. “dragon hybrids sell for a lot depending on where you are.”
your eyes widened slightly. you remembered learning about how hybrids treated in some parts. some were either killed and butchered to be sold for their parts, or they were sold for entertainment. hybrids were rare as it is, but dragon hybrids were even more rare making them more valuable.
“they kept me trapped for a while.” his tone remained casual but you still felt sadness curl in your chest. “katsuki found me,” he continued. “he was around eight too. little psycho fought grown men with a knife.”
you stared at him as you listened, trying to take it all in.
“seriously. kid was terrifying… and i was a kid!” eijiro laughed.
you could strangely imagine it. after seeing katsuki earlier, just from that brief interaction, you can already tell he was much of a menace at eight as he is now.
“he saved you.” you said.
“yeah.” his voice softened. “and i stayed with him after that.”
“you are loyal to him. i’m not surprised.” your gaze drifted toward his wings.
eijiro looked at you for a moment before nodding once. “always.”
something about the way he said it made the old stories about hybrids echo through your mind again.
once a hybrid found the one they belonged to, their loyalty became absolute.
eventually, the two of you stopped in front of a massive pair of doors at the end of a quieter hallway.
“welcome to your new quarters, princess.” eijiro pushed them open.
you stepped inside slowly and was met with an enormous room.
dark stone walls surrounded the space but heavy curtains in deep crimson softened parts of it while large fur rugs covered portions of the floor. a massive fireplace burned along one side of the room, filling it with warmth. shelves carved from black wood lined the walls while candles flickered across various surfaces. the bed itself was enormous, layered with thick dark fabrics and furs.
despite the roughness of the castle’s aesthetic, the room still felt strangely luxurious.
eijiro watched your reaction carefully. “i know it’s probably completely different from your home,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “but the king made sure your quarters were comfortable for you.”
your eyes widened slightly. “he did? really?”
eijiro smiled sheepishly. “well... not really.”
your brows lifted in confusion at that.
“but he approved of all the things brought to your room! so that’s something!”
you could not help the soft laugh that escaped you. he reminded you strangely of a large puppy, earnest and friendly.
“thank you, eijiro. truly.” you nodded politely.
his grin returned immediately. “no problem. you are the future queen of the dragon lord. i live to serve you for you are his.”
his.
he stepped back toward the doorway. “i’ll send your new servants in to help with your bath before you retire for the night.”
“thank you.” you nodded again.
“get some rest, princess.” with that, he stepped outside and slowly closed the large doors behind him.
silence settled over the room.
you stood there for a long moment before slowly walking deeper inside, taking every little thing in. finally, you sat down carefully on the edge of the massive bed. your fingers brushed against the heavy sheets beneath your hands.
it was soft, warm… and foreign.
your gaze drifted slowly around the unfamiliar room.
this is my home now.
and for the first time since arriving in the scarlet region, the reality of it truly settled into your chest.
the last couple of weeks quickly fell into a repetitive pattern that slowly wore away at your patience no matter how hard you tried to remain understanding about the situation.
every morning you would wake up inside your chambers high within the dark stone walls of the scarlet fortress and ask one of the servants or guards whether the king was available, only to receive the same carefully rehearsed answers in return.
the king was occupied. the king was handling important matters. the king had already left the castle grounds before sunrise.
after hearing those excuses day after day, you eventually stopped asking as often because humiliation started creeping beneath your skin each time another servant avoided your eyes while informing you that your own betrothed apparently had no time for you.
most of your days were spent alone inside your chambers afterward. you ended up reading nearly every single one of the books on your shelves out of sheer boredom.
the books inside the scarlet region were nothing like the gentle romances and elegant poetry collections kept inside the libraries of the emerald empire. these stories were brutal and excessive and strangely honest about the people who lived within this kingdom.
there were tales about ancient wars fought between dragon riders that ended with entire mountainsides collapsing beneath fire and bloodshed. there were stories about barbarian kings who conquered lands with their bare hands and queens who poisoned enemies during feasts. some books were so violent that you occasionally found yourself staring blankly at the pages afterward trying to understand how someone even thought to write such horrifying details.
others were scandalously inappropriate.
one evening you accidentally spent an entire hour reading a story about a warrior taking a noblewoman against a castle wall. one of your handmaidens nearly dropped a tray in shock after realizing what you were reading. afterward she refused to look you directly in the eyes for the rest of the night while you quietly closed the book and pretended not to understand why her face had turned bright red.
still, despite the strange books and lonely silence surrounding most of your days, there was one part of your routine that you genuinely began looking forward to.
eijiro.
the dragon hybrid visited you almost every single day without fail.
sometimes he would arrive during breakfast and keep you company while the two of you ate together inside your chambers. other times he would take you through different sections of the castle while explaining the history behind certain halls and statues carved into the stone walls.
he told stories easily and enthusiastically, often speaking with his hands while his large red wings shifted behind him whenever he became excited.
unlike katsuki, who felt sharp and difficult to approach, eijiro was warm in a way that made conversation come naturally.
he answered your endless questions without irritation.
he explained the volcanoes surrounding the scarlet region and the old traditions involving dragon riders. he told you about battles fought generations ago and pointed out ancient carvings etched into the fortress walls. sometimes he made you laugh without meaning to. sometimes you caught yourself smiling more around him than you had since arriving here.
over time, your nervousness around the hybrid slowly faded.
and if you were being honest with yourself, there were moments where you quietly wondered who exactly you were supposed to be marrying. because while katsuki bakugo remained nothing more than a distant shadow constantly avoiding your presence, eijiro kirishima was the one actually beside you every day.
by the time three weeks had passed since your arrival in the scarlet region, you realized with growing disbelief that your wedding was only a week away.
a single week and yet you still had not properly spoken to katsuki since the first day you arrived. the realization irritated you more than you cared to admit.
that evening you sat in front of the vanity mirror inside your chambers while slowly brushing through your hair with careful strokes. soft firelight flickered across the room while one of your handmaidens prepared fresh oils nearby. you were waiting for eijiro again because he promised earlier that morning he would visit after finishing training with the soldiers.
you had begun expecting him.
which was exactly why surprise shot through you when the chamber doors suddenly burst open hard enough to slam against the stone walls.
your head snapped upward immediately.
katsuki bakugo stood in the doorway.
for a second, the entire room felt painfully still.
his broad figure nearly filled the entrance as firelight danced across his exposed skin and the heavy fur draped around his shoulders. his ash blonde hair looked slightly messy like he had run his hands through it repeatedly and those sharp crimson eyes locked onto yours instantly with an intensity that made your breath catch inside your throat.
it had been weeks since you last saw him.
weeks.
slowly, you stood from your seat before lowering your head respectfully. “my king,” you greeted softly. “what an honor it is to finally be graced by your presence.”
katsuki stared at you for a moment before clicking his tongue. “quit talking like that,” he muttered as he stepped further inside the room. “you sound like one of those damn council fossils.”
you lifted your gaze carefully toward him. “forgive me. i was simply trying to greet my future husband properly.”
“yeah, well, stop it.” he said, and despite his harsh tone, his eyes remained fixed on you far too intensely for comfort.
you slowly set the brush down against the vanity table. “to what do i owe this sudden visit?” you asked calmly. “i assumed you were occupied with your duties… as usual.”
something unreadable flashed across his expression at that.
then you continued before he could answer.
“it has been difficult, i must say. when the king is always occupied with ‘state affairs’ and his right hand is the only one willing to provide a tour of the grounds.”
katsuki’s jaw immediately tightened. “hair-for-brains has been babysitting you?” he asked sharply.
you frowned slightly at the insult. “eijiro has been kind,” you corrected as you stepped away from the vanity. “he told me about the volcanoes, the dragon-kin, the hybrids, and the history of this region. he has been a better guide than my own betrothed.”
a rough laugh escaped katsuki though there was no real amusement behind it. he moved closer until the warmth rolling off his body surrounded you completely. “kirishima’s an idiot who gives away secrets for free,” he scoffed. “if you wanted to know about this kingdom, you should’ve come to the source, not the help.”
your eyebrows lifted slightly. “i tried,” you answered, your voice firmer than expected. “every time i approached your chambers, your guards informed me you were busy breathing fire at your generals. eventually i began wondering if you were hiding something.”
for the briefest second, something shifted across his face. his stare softened just enough to notice before the scowl returned again. “i wasn’t hiding,” he said roughly. “i was preparing. do you have any idea what it takes to merge an emerald seat with a scarlet throne? despite the treaty, the court is looking for a reason to tear you apart the moment you step onto the altar.”
the words struck harder than you expected. your breath caught quietly in your throat and for a moment, you simply stared at him.
you had known this marriage was political from the very beginning. kingdoms did not bind themselves together through royal blood for romance. this union meant trade routes, military alliances, security, power, stability between two lands that could strengthen each other greatly. you understood that. you had been taught that since childhood.
but despite understanding all of that, despite knowing nobles could be cruel and proud and difficult, a part of you still had not expected that there were truly people within this castle who looked at you and saw someone unworthy.
you had crossed an entire continent for this marriage, you had left your home behind, your family, your kingdom, everything familiar, and somewhere within these dark stone halls, there were people waiting for you to fail.
they were watching and judging you, hoping you’d slip and fall and break you neck on the way down.
katsuki reached toward you suddenly, his gloved hand hovered near your chin. for a brief second, it looked as though he intended to touch you. then his jaw tightened sharply and he pulled his hand back with visible irritation, almost seeming angry at himself for the impulse.
“i didn't have time for royal pleasantries,” he growled. “but since you and shitty hair seem to have hit it off so well, i suppose you’ve learned enough to hold your own.”
despite yourself, your lips twitched faintly. “i’ve learned that the king is temperamental, guarded, and apparently very jealous of his second-in-command,” you said softly, tilting your head.
katsuki froze, his eyes widened for the briefest moment before narrowing into dangerous slits, a low sound rumbled from deep in his chest.
it sent a chill crawling down your spine.
“jealous?” he repeated sharply. “don't flatter yourself. i just don't like what’s mine being lectured by a soft-hearted mutt.”
his words made something uncomfortable twist in your chest.
your his property.
slowly, you stepped closer toward him until barely any space remained between your bodies. you could feel the heat radiating from him like fire against your skin.
“is that all i am to you?” you asked quietly. “property?”
katsuki stared down at you, his pupils shifted strangely. the sharp crimson of his eyes darkened until the color looked molten beneath the torchlight.
when he leaned closer, your breath caught, his forehead nearly brushed yours. “you’re a week away from being the queen of the scarlet region,” he said in a low gravelly rasp. “you’re not property, princess.” his gaze dragged across your face slowly, too slowly. “you’re the only thing in this godforsaken fortress that isn't made of ash.”
your heart stumbled painfully inside your chest. before you could respond, he continued.
“and if you think i’ve been busy playing soldier, you’re wrong.” he leaned even closer, close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. “i’ve been making sure that when you finally walk down that aisle, no one is left alive who thinks they can challenge us.”
us.
“eijiro kept you distracted,” he muttered. “i kept you safe.”
silence filled the room after that.
your mind struggled to keep pace with everything he was saying.
you had thought he hated this arrangement. thought he was avoiding you because he wanted nothing to do with you. yet now he stood before you speaking about protecting you as though it had become his responsibility long before you ever wore his name.
“there are truly people here who oppose me that much?” you asked quietly.
katsuki scoffed. “there are people here who’d oppose the sky if it changed color for too long.” he stepped back slightly before dragging a rough hand through his ash blonde hair.
“the scarlet court is full of old bastards obsessed with bloodlines and strength. you’re foreign, soft, and refined. they think emerald nobles spend more time playing music than surviving winters. despite the benefits this wedding can give our kingdom, they don’t think you’re fit to be queen.”
“that is not true.” your brows furrowed faintly.
“i know that,” he snapped immediately. “they don't.” his jaw clenched again. “they think you’ll break.”
something stubborn rose inside your chest at that. you lifted your chin slightly. “and what do you think?”
his eyes locked onto yours instantly, intensely burning. “i think,” he said slowly, “that anybody who crossed kingdoms to marry into this hellhole without crying halfway through has more spine than half the idiots sitting in my council chamber.”
heat rushed unexpectedly into your face.
before you could answer, katsuki abruptly turned away. “come with me.”
“what?” you blinked.
“you heard me.” he strode toward the door.
confusion crossed your face immediately. “your majesty, where are we going?”
“tch. just move.”
you hesitated only a second before following after him and the moment you reached him, his hand suddenly grabbed yours. your breath caught sharply. his grip was large and rough and overwhelmingly warm around your hand.
before you could react properly, he yanked you forward behind him. “quit dragging me,” you gasped softly.
“quit dragging your feet.”
the chamber doors burst open as he pulled you into the corridor.
the dark halls stretched endlessly ahead, lit by fire torches burning against black stone walls. shadows flickered across the floors as servants quickly moved aside at the sight of the king storming through the castle with his future queen in tow.
you struggled slightly to keep pace with his long strides. “where are we going?” you asked again.
“you ask too many questions.”
“that usually happens when someone drags another person through a castle without explanation.”
he shot you an irritated glance over his shoulder. “you wanted to know why i’ve been busy so badly, right?”
you blinked. “yes…”
“then shut up and keep walking.”
despite his harsh tone, he never let go of your hand, not once. and somehow that fact lingered in your mind more than anything else.
katsuki continued dragging you through the castle halls with long aggressive strides that forced you to keep close behind him if you did not want to stumble over the hem of your dress. his hand remained wrapped tightly around yours, rough and calloused from years of swordsmanship and battle, his warmth almost startling against your softer skin.
you tried not to stare too openly at everything around you, but it was difficult. the scarlet region fascinated you. even after weeks of exploring with eijiro it still felt foreign to you.
your eyes drifted upward as you noticed enormous carvings etched into the high ceilings.
“those are incredible,” you murmured softly.
katsuki glanced upward briefly before grunting. “hm.”
you looked back at him. “what do they mean?”
“they’re old carvings.”
“i can see that.”
his eyes flickered toward you and for a second, you thought you caught amusement there, almost hidden. “smart mouth,” he muttered.
“i was simply asking.” you blinked innocently at him.
he clicked his tongue before finally answering. “they tell the story of the first kings. every ruler in the scarlet region traces their bloodline back to them.”
you looked back toward the carvings again with interest. the dragons were enormous in the stone art, wings spread wide across the ceiling while warriors stood beneath them holding weapons toward the sky.
“so the real dragons did come first?”
“obviously.”
“you do realize not everyone grew up here, yes?”
“annoying.” he let out a sharp exhale through his nose. despite the insult, he still answered. “before the kingdoms were built, dragon ruled these mountains. then people started worshipping them. eventually the strongest warriors bonded with them.”
“bonded?” your eyes widened slightly.
“dragon pacts.” his grip tightened faintly around your hand as he continued leading you down another hallway. “some humans formed bonds with dragon-kind. loyalty for loyalty. strength for strength.”
your thoughts immediately drifted toward eijiro. “is that why hybrids exist?”
“partly.”
“you sound reluctant to explain.” you looked at him curiously.
“because you ask too many damn questions.”
“and yet you keep answering them.”
he shot you another look over his shoulder. this time you definitely saw it, the corner of his mouth twitched. gone almost immediately.
he’s enjoying this.
you followed him down a massive staircase leading deeper into another section of the castle. the air grew warmer the lower you went, enough that you could feel heat brushing against your skin.
“why is it hotter here?” you asked.
“lava tunnels under the mountain.”
your eyes widened. “there is lava beneath the castle?”
“we’re built into a volcanic mountain, princess. what did you think was under us?”
you stared at him. “rocks?”
he barked out a laugh suddenly, a real one. rough and sharp but genuine enough that it echoed through the corridor. “unbelievable.”
heat crept into your cheeks at the sound. you had not expected him to laugh, especially not because of you.
the two of you continued walking until the hallway opened into a massive chamber lined with weapons mounted against the walls. swords. axes. spears. shields. some looked old enough to belong in museums while others appeared freshly sharpened.
you slowed immediately. “this is beautiful.”
“it’s an armory.” katsuki snorted.
you stepped closer toward one of the blades hanging on the wall. the sword was massive, far larger than anything you had ever seen used back home.
“people actually fight with these?” you asked.
“what the hell do you think they’re for?” he spat, his eyebrows furrowing as he spoke.
you glanced at him carefully. “you truly speak as though every question pains you.”
“because half your questions have obvious answers.”
“for you, perhaps.”
he stared at you for a moment before crossing his arms over his bare chest. “you really know nothing about this place.”
there was no mockery in his voice this time. only observation.
you looked down briefly. “i was taught about diplomacy between kingdoms and trade agreements and court etiquette. not weapons and volcanoes and dragon pacts.”
silence settled between you for a brief moment.
then katsuki spoke again, quieter this time. “that explains a lot.”
“what does that mean?” you looked back at him.
he shrugged. “you walk around this place looking at everything like you got dropped into another world.”
“perhaps i did.”
his gaze lingered on your face longer than necessary. you felt suddenly aware of how close he stood, how large he was compared to you, and how intense his eyes became whenever he looked directly at you.
your fingers tightened slightly around the fabric of your dress, trying to steady yourself before you cleared your throat softly. “what are scarlet region weddings like?”
“why?” katsuki’s brows furrowed immediately.
“because i’m marrying you in a week.” you said with an obvious tone of sarcasm.
“unfortunate for you.”
you ignored that as you asked again. “i would like to know what to expect.”
he sighed dramatically before leaning against one of the stone pillars nearby. “there’s a ceremony.”
you waited for more, but he stared back blankly.
“…that tells me nothing.”
“there’s fire. vows. drinking. fighting.”
your eyes widened. “fighting?”
“friendly fighting.”
“those are two words that should not belong together.”
“depends who you ask.” he shrugged.
you could not help the quiet laugh that escaped you.
katsuki’s eyes flickered toward your mouth immediately at the sound. you noticed it again and suddenly forgot how to breathe correctly for a second.
“what about emerald empire weddings?” he asked abruptly.
you blinked at the sudden question. “ours are more formal.”
“sounds boring already.” katsuki rolled his eyes as if he regrets asking.
“there is music and dancing.”
“boring.”
“poetry readings.”
he looked at you, horrified.
you smiled despite yourself. “decorated gardens.”
“if anybody forced me into a garden for my own wedding i’d burn it down.” he said, his expression tight as if he was already picturing it in his head.
you laughed at the look on his face while katsuki stared at you like he had never heard that sound before, like he wanted to keep hearing it. the realization made warmth spread slowly across your chest.
maybe he truly was avoiding me because he did not know what to do with me.
and somehow that thought felt far more dangerous than hatred ever could have been.
a week passed after your walk through the castle with katsuki, and somewhere within those seven days, something between the two of you shifted. it was not a dramatic shift. there had been no grand confession or sudden tenderness that transformed him into a different man overnight.
katsuki bakugo remained exactly who he was. he was still rough around the edges, still aggressive in the way he spoke, still impatient whenever somebody irritated him which happened often enough that you were beginning to think irritation was simply his natural state of being.
but despite that, things changed.
he was still busy constantly buried beneath matters of court and military discussions and whatever else dragged the dragon king away for hours at a time, but now he made space for you within those busy days.
sometimes he would appear at your chambers without warning only to stay for a few moments.
you would be seated near the fire reading one of the strange books from the scarlet region shelves when the door would suddenly swing open, revealing katsuki standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.
“what are you reading?”
you had looked up in surprise the first time it happened. “a history book.”
he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “why?”
“because i enjoy learning.”
“sounds miserable.”
yet he still walked over and glanced down at the pages resting in your lap before grunting.
another time, he had appeared during your evening meal and simply sat down across from you without invitation. you remembered staring at him while servants awkwardly scrambled to bring another plate.
“your majesty?”
“what?”
“you are in my chambers.”
“obviously.”
then he started eating your food as though he had always belonged there.
sometimes he barely spoke during those visits. he would simply sit nearby while you read or embroidered or drank tea. strangely enough, the silence never felt uncomfortable.
other times, he joined you and eijiro during your walks through the castle grounds.
those were perhaps your favorite moments.
eijiro would be speaking enthusiastically about some story from his childhood only for katsuki to suddenly appear beside the two of you with an irritated scowl already on his face.
“why the hell are you telling her that story again?” katsuki would ask.
“because she likes hearing it,” eijiro would laugh.
“your stories are stupid.”
“you listened to all of them too.”
“shut up.”
yet he would stay, always.
and slowly, without realizing it, you started learning him in pieces.
you learned that he hated overly sweet wine but liked stronger drinks that burned your throat. you learned that he became quieter whenever he was exhausted instead of louder. you learned that although he complained constantly, he still noticed everything around him with sharp frightening precision. you learned that whenever he was thinking deeply, his fingers tapped against whatever surface was nearest. you learned that he looked at you intensely even during moments when he thought you were not paying attention.
and before you fully realized it, the day of your wedding arrived.
you stood outside the massive doors leading toward the throne hall with your heart pounding heavily inside your chest. the halls around you glowed with torchlight while distant music echoed through the stone corridors.
your wedding dress felt heavier than anything you had ever worn before.
scarlet region wedding attire differed greatly from the soft flowing gowns worn in the emerald empire. instead of delicate fabrics and flowers, your gown was designed like something worthy of a queen standing beside a warrior king.
the dress clung tightly around your torso with dark crimson fabric embroidered with thin golden threads shaped like dragon scales. the sleeves draped long around your arms while black sheer fabric layered beneath the heavier crimson silk. gold chains decorated your waist and hips, hanging against the fabric with tiny ruby stones attached to them that caught the firelight whenever you moved.
the neckline dipped lower than dresses from your homeland normally allowed, exposing the tops of your collarbones where matching gold jewelry rested against your skin. even your veil was different. instead of white lace, dark red fabric trailed behind you like smoke.
you barely recognized yourself.
then, the massive doors slowly opened and heat rushed into the hall immediately.
inside, the throne room had transformed completely. huge fires burned from enormous iron braziers positioned throughout the chamber while crimson banners hung from the towering walls. drums echoed loudly through the room in a deep steady rhythm that vibrated through your chest. warriors stood lining the aisle holding torches while musicians played harsh beautiful melodies from instruments unfamiliar to you.
this was nothing like emerald empire weddings filled with soft music and flower petals.
before you knew it, you were walking down the aisle and all eyes turned toward you immediately. the eyes of court katsuki’s councilmen, foreign guests from distant lands, warriors dressed in heavy armor, and nobles covered in jewels and furs.
you spotted katsuki’s parents seated near the front. the former king looked relaxed despite the importance of the ceremony while his wife sat beside him watching everything sharply. you had met them during your first week in the scarlet region and quickly realized katsuki had inherited more from his mother than his father. mitsuki bakugo possessed the same fierce presence as her son though hers carried far more control.
your gaze shifted toward the opposite side where your own family sat. your mother already looked emotional, clearly trying not to cry. your father sat tall with pride written across his face. your older brother, however, looked like he was considering starting a war simply to drag you back home.
you almost smiled. when your eyes met his, you gave him a reassuring look.
i’m alright.
slowly, your attention moved again, then you spotted eijiro.
the dragon hybrid stood near the front dressed in dark ceremonial armor lined with crimson detailing. the moment he saw you looking toward him, his entire face lit up with the biggest grin.
it was so warm and genuine that you nearly laughed. you quickly hid the smile threatening your lips before finally looking ahead.
and there he was.
katsuki.
your future husband stood waiting near the throne platform.
for once, his chest was not bare. instead, he wore ceremonial battle robes made from black and deep crimson fabric layered with pieces of dark armor over his shoulders and forearms. fur lined the heavy cape hanging behind him while gold clasps shaped like dragon claws held it together across his chest. thick leather belts wrapped around his waist where a dagger rested beside an ornate sword.
he looked terrifying, beautifully terrifying.
his vermillion eyes locked onto yours instantly and as you approached him, you noticed his gaze slowly travel over your body, from your face, to your dress, to the jewelry against your skin, then back to your eyes again.
the look in his expression made heat crawl into your cheeks.
the ceremony began shortly after.
instead of gentle vows spoken softly between lovers, scarlet region traditions felt almost ritualistic.
the officiant stood before a massive fire while chanting ancient words in the old tongue of the region. wine was poured into ceremonial goblets. your hands and katsuki’s were bound together briefly with crimson cloth symbolizing unity through blood and kingdom.
through most of it, you barely listened because katsuki kept staring at you, and somehow, you realized you were staring back just as much.
the rest of the room blurred around you. time itself felt strange and distant. until finally the officiant spoke again.
“seal this union beneath fire and blood.”
eyes widened slightly and before you could even fully process the words, katsuki suddenly grabbed the back of your neck. a sharp breath escaped you then he pulled you toward him.
his lips crashed against yours.
the kiss stole every coherent thought from your mind instantly.
he kissed you firmly without hesitation, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other settled against your waist. heat flooded through your entire body as his mouth moved against yours with rough confidence that left your knees weak beneath the heavy layers of your gown.
oh gods.
your fingers instinctively grabbed the front of his ceremonial robes. you could hear distant cheering erupting around the throne room, but it sounded muffled beneath the pounding of your heartbeat.
when he finally pulled away, your lips tingled painfully, you stared at him completely stunned. katsuki’s eyes looked darker somehow, his thumb brushed briefly against your waist before he stepped back.
the celebration afterward became a blur of noise and firelight and endless drinking.
true to scarlet region tradition, there were fights just like katsuki mentioned.
warriors and duelists stepped into the center arena one after another while crowds roared around them.
sero hanta from katsuki’s inner circle defeated one soldier after a brutal sword fight that ended with both men bleeding and laughing. denki kaminari won his own match shortly afterward while shouting obnoxiously toward cheering spectators.
eijiro fought next.
you found yourself watching in amazement as the dragon hybrid moved with terrifying strength and speed before ultimately defeating his opponent.
then came katsuki.
the entire room seemed to erupt when the king stepped forward. his opponent looked almost honored to stand across from him.
the fight started with swords.
metal clashed violently beneath roaring cheers while sparks flew from each impact. katsuki fought like something feral unleashed into battle. he was aggressive, brutal, and overwhelming.
eventually the swords were discarded. then they were on the ground beating each other bloody.
you sat perfectly composed at the royal table, but beneath it, your hands gripped tightly against your dress. stress twisted painfully in your chest.
suddenly, warmth covered one of your hands.
you looked beside yourself and found eijiro smiled reassuringly at you. “don’t worry,” he said gently. “katsuki’ll be fine. i’ve seen him survive worse.”
you swallowed slightly. “that is not comforting.”
he laughed softly. “when we were sixteen he fought three mountain raiders at once after getting stabbed in the shoulder.”
“what?” your eyes widened in horror.
“he won.”
“that really does not make it better.”
eijiro grinned at your expression of worry.
your eyes shifted back toward the fight where katsuki slammed the other man hard into the ground making you winced. “besides… it’s not him i’m worried about,” you admitted quietly.
eijiro blinked before immediately understanding, then he chuckled. “ah.”
you looked at him helplessly. “that poor soldier.”
“trust me, he’s honored.”
you stared at him incredulously, not entirely sure what to reply to his reassurance.
eijiro leaned closer slightly before explaining. “in the scarlet region, it’s tradition to fight for the person you love.”
your brows furrowed.
he nodded toward the arena. “me and the others fought earlier because we’re unwedded. it’s meant to show strength, protection, and devotion for our future partners.” then he looked toward katsuki. “but katsuki’s fight is different.”
“different how?” your stomach tightened.
eijiro’s smile softened. “the longer the fight goes and the more blood he draws from his opponent, the deeper the devotion is believed to be.”
you froze completely.
eijiro continued quietly. “he’s fighting for you, my queen.”
shock rushed through you instantly. you had never heard of this tradition before, never read about it, never learned it during your lessons back home. yet suddenly everything felt different watching katsuki fight down there beneath roaring firelight.
every brutal strike, every drop of blood, every second that continued was for you.
eventually the soldier finally collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss.
the room erupted into cheers.
breathing heavily, katsuki straightened before immediately turning his head toward you, his eyes locked onto yours across the hall then slowly, a smirk twitched against the corner of his mouth. he walked directly toward you afterward. you noticed the blood that stained his knuckles, his lip was split slightly, yet he looked almost pleased with himself.
once he reached the table, he dropped into the seat beside you and threw one arm casually across the back of your chair. “you look pale,” he said.
you stared at him. “you nearly killed that man.”
“he’ll live.”
“why does everything think that’s comforting?” you replied back.
he snorted then his eyes dragged slowly across your face. “you watched the whole thing?”
you swallowed softly. “…yes.”
“good.” his smirk deepened slightly.
the grand hall roared with celebration, the air thick with smoke from roasted meats, the bitter tang of ale, and the deafening clash of warriors re-enacting battles for entertainment.
you sat at the high table, your new husband beside you, a solid, immovable presence. katsuki downed the last bit of his wine, a deep, dark scarlet that matched the banners of his kingdom. he swallowed it like it was water, not savoring it, just consuming it. the heavy goblet clunked onto the wooden table.
then his arm, which had been draped loosely around the back of your chair, moved. his hand landed on your shoulder, a firm, heavy pat. once. twice. a third time, each impact a little heavier, a little more deliberate.
your shoulder tingled under the weight.
he stood up. the noise in the hall seemed to dip for a moment, the crowd’s attention shifting to their king. he held his hand out for you, palm open, fingers curled slightly while you looked at his hand, confused.
the festivities were still raging. it was relatively still early. then you turned your head to meet his eyes. dark red, like cooled lava, intense and utterly focused on you. in that instant, the confusion evaporated, replaced by a cold, clear understanding that rushed from your head down to your toes.
it was time. your duty. the consummation.
your fingers, trembling slightly, reached out and grabbed his hand. his grip was instantaneous, tight, almost crushing as he pulled you to stand. you rose, your wedding gown suddenly felt like a ridiculous, fragile costume.
as you stood, you noticed katsuki’s eyes flick to eijiro who sat on your other side, giving him a quick knowing look.
eijiro’s smile faded into a serious nod, his own crimson eyes understanding. they seemed to speak without words, a silent communication that made your eyebrows furrow.
what did that mean? what had they planned?
but before you could dwell, katsuki was pulling you away from the table, his stride long and purposeful. he didn’t walk with you; he dragged you.
your hand was captive in his, and he led you through the archway out of the hall, into the colder, darker corridors of the castle. the warmth and noise of the feast died behind you, swallowed by the silence of the passageways.
katsuki looked intense, his profile sharp in the torchlight. his jaw was set, his brows slightly lowered. he didn’t look at you as he walked, his focus was on the path ahead, on getting to where he needed to be.
silence filled the space between you, thick and heavy. it wasn’t peaceful. it was a tension that crawled over your skin, a prickling awareness of where you were headed, of what was about to happen in the dark, private heart of his domain.
he didn’t lead you to the wing where your chambers had been for the past few weeks. he turned down a different corridor, one guarded by two massive stone dragons carved into the archway. he stopped before a door of dark, aged oak reinforced with iron bands.
“this is my chambers,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet hall. “now it’s ours. i had the servants move your things here this afternoon.” his tone was matter-of-fact, final. there was no discussion. this was where you would live… with him.
katsuki opened the door. it swung inward without a sound.
you were met with a room similar in structure to your old one but vastly different in spirit. it was bigger, dominated by a massive bed with a dark wood frame and black linens. the air smelled like him—like smoke, leather, and something wild. weapons lay around not as decoration, but as tools temporarily set aside: a sword on a table, its edge gleaming; a pair of axes leaning against a chest; pieces of armor on a stand. scrolls and maps were piled haphazardly.
it was chaotic, masculine, and utterly his.
“it’s very… you,” you said softly, stepping inside after him.
“it’s a fucking room,” he grunted, closing the door behind you. the click of the latch was loud in the silence. “it serves its purpose.”
you turned to face him, now alone in the intimate space. the tension from the corridors condensed here, in the few feet of space between you. he finally looked at you directly, his sharp eyes sweeping over your body in the elaborate dress.
“you wore this shit all day,” he stated, not a question. “must be heavy.”
“they told me it is the traditional gown of the scarlet region for a royal wedding,” you replied, your voice gentle. “they told me it represents power and prosperity.”
“it represents a lot of fucking fabric,” he said, a slight, sharp smirk touching his lips. “you look… good in it. but i’ll prefer you without it.”
your cheeks warmed at his blunt words. you didn’t know how to respond to such directness.
he stepped closer, until you were face to face. his warmth radiated against you. one of his calloused hands came up to gently play with a strand of your hair that had escaped its intricate styling.
the contrast was startling, the brute king touching you with such deliberate softness.
“do you know what’s about to happen now, hm?” he asked, his voice lower, gravelly.
you swallowed, your eyes wide. “i-i know my duty to my husband,” you whispered. “to… consummate the marriage. to bond both our kingdoms.”
his fingers continued their slow movement through your hair. “duty. bond.” he snorted softly. “i may be a brute, princess. i may be have a temper and called a barbarian. but i won’t do anything to you if you’re not ready.” the words were gruff, but the meaning underneath was startlingly clear.
he was giving you a choice, within the cage of this marriage.
your body reacted to his soft touches. a shiver went down your spine that wasn’t entirely fear. your eyes closed for a moment, feeling the rough texture of his fingers against the sensitive skin of your neck, behind your ear.
it was soothing and terrifying all at once.
you opened your eyes to find him watching your face intently, studying every flicker of reaction.
“i… i want to,” you promised him, your voice timid but clear. “i am ready.”
a low sound, like a grumble of satisfaction, emanated from his chest. his eyes darkened, shifting from assessing to predatory. his fingers left your hair and traced down your shoulder to the back of your gown, finding the complex laces of the corset.
“you love learning, right? reading those historical books,” he said, his voice now a seductive murmur as his fingers began to work the first lace. “so learn this. in the scarlet region, we don’t consummate marriages like they do in other kingdoms. it’s not clinical. it’s not prude.”
another lace loosened.
your breath hitched as the structure of the dress began to give way.
“they call us brutes. barbarians.” another lace. “and they’re right.” the final lace came free with a soft pull. “we fuck like animals. and tonight, i will make sure every single morsel and peasant in this kingdom knows what we’re doing. i won’t hold back.”
you shivered as his words washed over you, crude and thrilling.
the last of the fabric, freed from its bindings, pooled around your legs and slid to the floor with a whisper of silk. you stood before him, bare except for the delicate necklaces on your neck.
his eyes raked over your body, no longer obscured. his gaze was hot, possessive, and utterly focused. his warm, calloused hands followed his eyes, roaming everywhere—your shoulders, the curve of your waist, the outside of your thighs. his touch was firm, mapping you.
your breathing became uneven, shallow as you watched him.
“fuck,” he breathed out, the word almost reverent in its roughness. “look at you.”
then he grabbed you, not gently. his hands hauled you into his arms, your bare body pressing against the warm fabric of his attire. you felt the hard planes of his chest, the muscles of his arms. for a second, you were enveloped in his scent and strength before he threw you onto the bed. you landed on the black linens with a soft gasp, the cool fabric against your skin.
he hovered over you, still fully clothed, a giant silhouetted against the torchlight.
his eyes grew darker, hungrier. he didn’t bother with ceremony. his own clothes were removed with swift, efficient movements, the ornate jacket torn off, the shirt pulled over his head and discarded carelessly on the ground, the trousers shoved down and kicked away until he was bare like you.
you shyly eyed his body from where you lay on the bed. he was… gorgeous. carved from muscle, scars mapping old battles across his skin.
“see something you like, huh?” he growled, noticing your wide-eyed look.
“you’re… very b-big,” you whispered, your politeness clinging to you even in this raw moment.
“ha! damn right i am,” he said as he moved onto the bed, kneeling between your legs. his hands pushed your thighs apart, making you shyly whine at the sudden exposure.
your palms came up to push against his chest lightly, a reflexive gesture of modesty. “i… i haven’t done anything like this before,” you confessed softly, your eyes pleading for understanding.
katsuki’s eyes softened for a fleeting moment. he leaned down, not entering you, but lifting himself up to kiss you.
it wasn’t a gentle kiss.
his lips crashed onto yours, hot and demanding. his tongue invaded your mouth, a battle you couldn’t hope to win but were compelled to join. there were bites; sharp nips on your lower lip that made you gasp, and shared spit, and breaths that grew ragged. you whined into his mouth, small sounds of overwhelm that only spurred him on. he groaned, a deep sound from his chest, and the wrestling of tongues was wet, messy, and utterly intoxicating.
“gonna taste every part of you, wife,” he muttered against your lips before breaking away.
he moved down your body, his hands holding your hips firmly. his mouth found your core, and he didn’t hesitate. he ate you out with the same aggressive dedication he did everything else. his tongue was relentless, exploring, licking, pushing inside you while grunted against your skin.
“so fucking sweet… like a prize… all mine…”
“s-shit—oh! katsuki… so g-good…” you moaned, a high, shaky sound.
katsuki groaned in between your thighs, his mouth moving messily on your mound, swishing vibrations through you that amplified the pleasure he was already giving you.
your body writhed on the bed from the shocking, unprecedented sensations crashing through you. your hands gripped the black sheets. you were confused by what you were feeling; this building, tightening coil of pleasure deep inside you, something you had no name for.
“i… f-feel—nghh…” you gasped.
“let go,” katsuki commanded, his voice thick. “just let go for me.”
and you did.
the coil snapped, and a wave of intense pleasure broke over you, making you arch off the bed with a sharp cry. he kept working you through it until you collapsed back onto the linens, trembling.
he moved back up, his body aligning with yours. his cock, heavy and hard, pressed against your slit.
“i can’t fucking wait any longer. i need to be inside you… been wanting you since i laid eyes on you,” he said, his voice dark with promise. “i’m gonna enter you now and you’re gonna take all of me like a good wife, hm?”
you were delirious in pleasure. just from that one orgasm, you felt indescribable pleasure from your husband. slowly but surely, you wanted everything and anything he was willing to give you. “p-please.” you begged.
katsuki glided his cock into you slowly, an inch at a time. you moaned at the intrusion, a mix of pleasure from before and the new, stretching feeling. he grunted, his own control evident in the slow pace.
“so f-fuuucking tight… wrapping around me like a damn vice…” he breathed.
you held onto him, your arms around his shoulders as he slowly inched deeper until he was fully seated inside you. it was a fullness that stole your breath, gasping as you clutched onto him. “ha—”
“painful?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.
“a little… but… it’s fading,” you whined softly. “p-please… move.”
“how can i deny such an honest plea?” katsuki teased, chuckling at your expression before he began to move.
his thrusts started slow but quickly gained speed and force. he fucked you on your back with a driving rhythm that shook the bed frame. each thrust punched a moan or a whine from your lips.
“oh! ah—ngh… s’good.” you threw your head back.
“such a good little wife… taking her king so perfectly…” he growled, his praise landing on you like a brand, making you cling to him tighter.
he paused for a moment, looking down at where your bodies joined. “fuck… you’re so small… made for me…” his thrusts became deeper, more harder. “gonna fill you up… gonna put my heirs right in here.” his desire was raw in his words, each slam of his hips a promise of possession beyond tonight.
“katsuki… please!” you begged, your nails clawing down his back.
“please what? need more, huh? you gonna cum again fro me?” katsuki groaned as he continued to plow into you.
“i… i don’t know—f-fuck!” you bit down on his shoulder as you ground up at him, meeting his thrusts.
“you do know, baby. feel it. come undone for me again.” katsuki nipped at your ear.
and you did, another peak crashing over you as he drove into you relentlessly, his own release following with a roar that echoed in the dark chamber, filling you with his cum as he collapsed atop you, breathing heavily into your neck.
but he didn’t stop.
the moment your second orgasm faded into tremors, katsuki kept driving into you, his hips setting a brutal, possessive rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. each thrust was a deep, claiming slam that made the bedposts creak in protest.
“k-katsuki…” you moaned, the name a broken sound on your lips. your hands scrambled against his sweat-slicked back, fingers digging into the hard muscle.
“that’s it, we’re not done yet. just like that, baby—oh, fuck,” he grunted, his voice rough with strain and pleasure. “moan for me. let the whole fucking castle know who you belong to.” his own moans were guttural that vibrated through his chest into yours. “so fucking good. taking me like you were made for it…”
katsuki’s hands, which had been braced on either side of your head, slid down to grasp your thighs. his calloused palms caressed the soft skin of your legs as he held them open, his grip firm, almost bruising in its intensity. he used that leverage to pound into you harder, deeper.
you arched off the bed, a sharp whine tearing from your throat as he hit a spot inside you that sparked white behind your eyelids. “right there… oh, gods, right there!” you sobbed.
“i know. found your sweet spot, huh? that feel good?” he growled, a smirk in his tone. “i feel you clenching around me, princess. greedy little thing.”
the sound of your bodies meeting was obscenely wet, a rhythmic slap of skin on skin that underscored every groan and whimper.
then, with a sudden, powerful shift, he manhandled you. his hands left your thighs to grip your waist, and in one fluid, dominant motion, he flipped the two of you around. you gasped as the world spun, finding yourself straddling him, his cock still buried impossibly deep inside you. the new position made you feel him even more profoundly, every inch of him stretching you.
“ah! fuck!” you moaned, eyes wide, hands flying to his chest to steady yourself.
“look at you,” he rasped, his vermillion eyes blazing up at you. “riding your king as if you’re riding a dragon yourself. so fucking perfect for me.” his hands settled on your hips, thumbs stroking the bone. “c’mon. show me what my good little wife can do.”
you were obedient, eager to please. tentatively, you lifted yourself up, a slow, trembling movement that made you both moan as he slid partially out. then you lowered yourself back down, sheathing him fully, a grunt punched from his lips.
“fuck yes. that’s it… just like that,” he praised, his eyes watching your face with a dark, satisfied smirk. your expression was one of overwhelmed bliss, mouth slightly open, eyes glazed. he cooed at you, the sound strangely tender coming from him. “such a pretty queen. taking her king so well. now… set the pace f’me.”
your confidence grew with his constant praise. you started to bounce on him, slowly at first, then faster, finding a rhythm. each descent made your breath hitch, each rise brought a needy whine. your arched your back, your hair spilling over your shoulders.
“katsuki… it’s so… i feel so full…” you whimpered.
“you are full,” he agreed, his voice thick. “full of me. and you look so fucking small wrapped around me… perfect fit.” his lust for you bled into the words, the awe in his gaze as he looked at where your bodies joined.
but the heat from the friction on your inner thighs began to burn, making you slow your movements with a pout and a soft whine of discomfort.
katsuki chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “tired already? my delicate little flower.” he cooed at you, his thumbs still caressing your hips. “it’s okay. let me help, hm?”
instead of bouncing, you began to grind on him out of desperation. circular motion drew a deep groan from him. then you leaned forward, collapsing against his chest, tucking your face into the hot skin of his neck. you were surrounded by his scent, his heat, and it was intoxicating.
“please… please, katsuki,” you begged, your voice muffled against him. “i need—fuck… i don’t know what i need anymore… need more.”
“shhh,” he cooed, one hand cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. the other stayed on your hip, possessive. “i know what you need.”
katsuki planted his feet firmly on the bed, gaining leverage. and then, with a single, powerful beat of his hips, he started ramming up into you. he was fucking up into you from below, each upward thrust spearing you deeply, knocking the air from your lungs.
“ah—ngh… yes! right there!” you shrieked, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. your moans and whines became a continuous stream against his neck.
“just let me do all the work,” he grunted, his own breathing becoming ragged. “a king serves his queen… especially in bed.” his thrusts were relentless, powerful pistons driving you up and down on his cock even as you lay pliant against him. you were putty in his hands, letting him use your body exactly as he wanted, your face hidden in the safety of his neck.
the sounds filled the room; his guttural grunts, your high-pitched whimpers, the wet slap of his hips meeting yours, the creak of the bed, the filth coming out of your husband’s mouth. it was sinful.
“gonna breed you so deep—fuck—fill this perfect cunt with my heirs… mark you inside and out…”
your only replies were broken syllables, your desire for his praise making you sing with every rough compliment.
katsuki’s thrusts started becoming erratic, sloppy, losing their military precision as his own peak approached.
“i’m close… fuck, I’m so close,” you whined, your body tightening around him.
“i am too,” he gasped, his voice strained. he pulled back just enough to look at your face.
your expression was one of utterly ruined bliss. your eyebrows were drawn together, lips swollen and parted, eyes half-lidded and hazy. you looked so pretty to him, so perfectly claimed.
katsuki leaned up and placed a sudden, soft kiss on your forehead, a shocking gesture of tenderness amidst the carnal frenzy.
you clutched at his biceps, your nails biting into his skin. “k-katsuki… i’m gonna…”
he grunted, and with effort, he stopped thrusting.
before you could even whine in complaint at the denied release, his arms were scooping you up. katsuki stood from the bed in one powerful motion, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you clung to him, his cock still buried to the hilt inside you.
“wh-what…?” you gasped, startled.
“tch. patience,” he growled, his own need evident in the tension of his body.
he gripped your thighs firmly, his hands huge and warm. and then he began to move you himself, bouncing you on his cock as he stood there, using the strength of his arms and the leverage of his stance to fuck you onto him.
the thought of it… of him manhandling you so easily, picking you up and using your body like this, made you physically shiver. that shiver traveled inward, making your inner walls clench tightly around him, which drew a ragged groan from his throat.
“fuck… you just got tighter,” he breathed, his pace increasing. “you like that? like when i just take what’s mine and use you?”
“yes… yes, i do like it. please… i’m close again, katsuki, please—ha…” you begged, your head falling back.
katsuki hummed, coaxing you over the edge. “give me another one, my good girl. cum again for your king and i’ll give you a reward.”
that promise, coupled with the overwhelming sensation of being fucked in mid-air by your powerful husband, was too much. a coil tightened deep in your belly, winding to its breaking point.
“shit! i’m—fuck, i’m…!”
“that’s it. let go,” he commanded.
“k-katsuki…” you whine, the sound muffled, as another wave of sensitivity makes you clench around him, where he’s still buried deep inside you.
a low, guttural groan vibrates through his chest and into yours. “fuck,” he rasps, his voice wrecked. one large, calloused hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your disheveled hair.
“gonna make you cum again. come on, baby. come undone for me again. you want to, don’t you?”
you nod frantically, a desperate little mewl escaping you as you moved desperately up and down on him.
“say it.”
“yes—cum… gonna cum f’you. only you.”
he smirks, that feral, triumphant curl of his lips while his free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in, helping you find a rolling rhythm even as he holds you locked to him. the sound of your slick skin meeting his, the wet slap of each movement, fills the heavy air of the chamber, mingling with his grunts and your broken cries.
“so good for me.” thrust. “so fuckin’ tight.” thrust. “all mine.” thrust. “gonna keep you full of me.” thrust. “always.” thrust. “breed you so deep you’ll feel it for days.” thrust.
when the next orgasm rips through you, it’s slower, deeper, a molten unspooling that has you sobbing into his mouth, your body seizing around him in rhythmic pulses. he follows you over with a sharp, choked-off roar, his hips jerking up to bury himself to the hilt as he spills hot inside you, his grip on your hair tightening almost painfully.
before you can even form a coherent thought, he’s capturing your mouth again. this kiss is messy, sloppy, all hungry tongue and possessive pressure. it’s wet and it steals the air from your lungs. you can taste yourself on him, salty and sweet.
he pulls his head back just a few inches, his eyes blazing down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. his lips are swollen, his breathing harsh. “look at you,” he growls, the words rough with awe. “my perfect little wife. took me so damn well. fuckin’ gorgeous f’me.”
katsuki nuzzles into your hair, his lips brushing your temple. his voice is a low, satiated rumble. “since you’ve been so good… so obedient… you get your prize.”
prize? oh yeah, he said something about a prize. your hazy mind struggles to comprehend.
you feel him shift beneath you, still intimately connected, as he lifts his gaze from the top of your head to the chamber door.
“ei. get in here.”
your entire body goes rigid. confusion floods you, cutting through the blissful fog. your eyes fly open, wide and bewildered, staring at the carved wood of the door.
eijiro? as in kirishima? now? why? while we’re… we’re like this…!
“katsuki?” your voice is small, trembling. “what are you talking about?”
the door swings open silently. and there he is.
eijiro kirishima fills the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly touching the frame, his chest bare, the hard planes of his abdomen and the dark trail of hair leading downward on full display. his crimson eyes, usually so warm and friendly, are dark, intense, and they lock onto the two of you immediately… onto you, specifically.
was he outside this entire time?
you feel the burn of his gaze like a physical touch, sweeping over katsuki’s hands on your bare skin, over the curve of your spine, over the intimate join of your bodies.
a hot, shameful flush explodes across your face and chest. you try to shrink further into katsuki, but he’s already moving, walking with you still impaled on him, one arm hooked under your thighs. he walks you both towards eijiro, and the casual display of his strength makes your head spin.
“i’m not stupid,” katsuki says, nonchalant as if he wasn’t still buried inside you. he stops a few feet from eijiro. “saw the way he looked at you for weeks. like you were water in a desert. and you…” he glances down at you, his smirk deepening. “you greedy little thing got attached to your friendly dragon babysitter, didn’t you? spoiled princess.”
your heart hammers against your ribs. “i didn’t—i didn’t mean to make you feel—”
katsuki cuts you off with a low chuckle, his free hand stroking a soothing line down your sweat-damp back. “shh-shh. you didn’t do a damn thing wrong, princess. you just… showed me something.” his eyes slide back to eijiro, hungry and possessive. “showed me what turns my blood to fuckin’ fire. the depravity of it. the idea of him,” he thrusts up shallowly, making you gasp, “wanting what’s mine. touching what’s mine.”
he shifts his gaze fully to eijiro. “i’m right, aren’t i?”
eijiro’s eyes haven’t left you. a slow, deep hum resonates in his chest, a sound more beast than man. “i am bound to you, my king,” he says, his voice thicker, rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “my life is yours. my loyalty.” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “and what is yours… is yours to command.”
katsuki’s grin is all sharp edges and dark promise. he looks down at you again, his expression turning curious. “so? is it okay with you, my greedy baby? if i share you? if he gets to have a taste of what belongs to me?”
the question is so blunt, so shockingly crude, that your mind blanks. but your body betrays you instantly. a violent, involuntary clench around katsuki’s still hard length, a fresh trickle of wetness that has nothing to do with fear.
katsuki grunts, his head throwing back with a sharp hiss. “fuck! see that, shitty hair?” he says, talking about you as if you weren’t clinging to him. “got even tighter just hearing it. her pretty little cunt’s begging for it.”
“seems eager to please,” eijiro murmurs, taking a step closer. the heat radiating from his body rivals katsuki’s.
“she’s a good girl,” katsuki agrees, his voice dropping to a coaxing rumble directly in your ear. “aren’t you? can you be good for me, hm? for us?”
the choice is no choice at all. not with katsuki’s seed still leaking from you, not with eijiro’s hungry eyes devouring you.
“yes, please. i’ll do anything for you.” you nod, eagerly, desperately, a whine caught in your throat.
“good,” katsuki purrs. he gives a single nod to eijiro.
in one smooth motion, katsuki pulls himself from your sensitive flesh, a gasp ripped from your lips at the sudden emptiness and the cool air on your wet skin. then his hands are on your waist, and he’s transferring your weight.
eijiro’s arms come up to catch you, and he is just as hot, just as solid as katsuki. you’re cradled against a chest that feels like carved stone, your bare skin flush against his, and you bury your flaming face in his neck, breathing in his scent of smoke, spice, and something wild.
katsuki strides over to a large ornate chair near the bed and sinks into it, sprawling with kingly indolence. he’s still gloriously naked, his cock hard on his belly. “alright,” he says, his voice a command. “i wanna watch. kirishima… eat her out. clean up my mess. then get her ready for you.”
eijiro lets out another one of those low, rumbling hums. “as my king commands.” he carries you to the bed as if you weigh nothing and lays you down gently on the rumpled silk. your eyes are glued to him as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and pushes them down.
your breath hitches at the sight.
he’s… huge. thick and long, already fully erect, the tip flushed and leaking. the sight sends a jolt of pure, dizzying arousal straight to your already throbbing core.
“like what you see, princess?” katsuki asks from his chair, a dark amusement in his tone. he’s lazily stroking himself, his eyes glued to the scene.
“she’s blushing all over,” eijiro notes, his voice softening as he kneels on the bed between your spread legs. his gaze is a physical weight, traveling over every inch of your exposed body; your peaked nipples, the flutter of your stomach, the glistening, well-used flesh between your thighs, dripping with katsuki’s release. he leans over you, caging you with his arms, his face inches from yours. his eyes search yours. “can i kiss you, sweetheart?”
you nod, wordless.
eijiro no longer waits. his mouth immediately captures yours.
it’s nothing like katsuki’s kiss. where katsuki is fire and possessive, eijiro is deep, lingering warmth. it’s sweet, almost reverent at first. a soft press of lips that quickly deepens into something more devouring. his tongue sweeps into your mouth, tasting you slowly, thoroughly. it’s no less possessive, but it’s a different kind of claim.
“good girl,” katsuki grunts from the side. “let him taste you.”
eijiro breaks the kiss with a soft sound, trailing his lips along your jaw, down the column of your neck. “so sweet,” he murmurs against your skin, his hot breath making you shiver. “so perfect.” he moves lower, taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling gently before swirling it with his tongue. he pays equal attention to the other, his hands skimming down your sides as he kisses a path over your trembling stomach.
he doesn’t stop until his face is level with your aching core. the scent of sex and katsuki is thick in the air. eijiro’s eyes lock with yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that pins you to the bed.
“lick her clean, ei,” katsuki orders, his hand moving faster on his own length.
eijiro doesn’t look away from you. “with pleasure,” he rumbles.
his tongue was broad, hot, and surprisingly soft. it drags through your soaked folds in one long, deliberate stripe. he gathers katsuki’s cum and your own on his tongue, his eyes fluttering closed for a second as he savors it. a low groan vibrates from his throat into your flesh.
“fuck yes,” katsuki breathes. “doesn’t she taste so good?”
eijiro opens his eyes again as he hummed in agreement, watching your face as he does it again. and again. each slow, languid lap makes your back arch off the bed, a broken moan tumbling from your lips.
he’s cleaning you with a thoroughness that is obscene, worshipful, and unbearably erotic.
then he zeroes in on your clit.
his mouth closes over the swollen bud and he eats you like a man starved. his tongue flicks and circles, then presses hard and flat against you before spearing deep inside your entrance, fucking you with it, tasting both of you mixed together.
“oh gods—eijiro!” you cry out, one hand fisting in the sheets above your head, the other tangling in his red hair.
the sounds he was making were filthy. wet, sucking noises, his low growls of appreciation, your escalating whines and sobs.
“so good,” eijiro mumbles against your flesh, his words muffled. “taste like heaven. so fucking perfect.” he shifts, his hands sliding under your thighs to hike them over his shoulders, spreading you wider, opening you up for his devouring mouth.
“that’s it,” katsuki praises from his throne, his grunts joining the symphony. “make her cum on your tongue. show me how good my wife tastes.”
you tear your eyes from the ecstasy on eijiro’s face to look at your husband. katsuki is stroking himself in earnest now, his gaze locked on where eijiro’s head is buried between your legs. he looks utterly captivated, a smirk of pure male satisfaction on his lips.
“k-katsuki! eiji—ugh’ngh,” you wail, feeling the coil within you wind impossibly tight.
“cum for him,” katsuki commands, his voice rough. “give him your reward for being so patient.”
eijiro redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while thrusting two thick fingers inside you, curling them to stroke that perfect spot.
the dual assault shatters you. you scream, your body bowing off the bed as a brutal orgasm tears through you, your vision whiting out at the edges as you clamp down around his fingers.
eijiro rides it out with you, drinking every drop, until you collapse back onto the sheets, boneless and trembling. and when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening.
“that’s it, baby,” katsuki’s voice is a low, approving rumble as you tremble through the last waves of your climax under eijiro’s mouth. “so good for us. but we’re not done.” he stood up from his seat before standing in front of you, his fingers, still tangled in your hair, give a gentle but firm tug, guiding your face up to look at him. his eyes are molten, dark with a possessive heat that makes your insides flutter anew. “up. on your hands and knees for me. show me how well my queen can listen.”
your body, still humming with pleasure, obeys before your mind fully catches up.
you push yourself up, limbs shaky, and maneuver onto your hands and knees in the center of the massive bed. the silk is cool against your flushed skin. you feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly wanton.
katsuki moves with a predator’s grace. he moved to sit on the bed, positioning himself right in front of you. he shifts to sit up against the carved headboard, his back supported, his legs spread.
he’s the picture of royalty, a king surveying his spoils. and you are on display before him.
a moment later, the bed dips behind you. eijiro’s large, warm hands settle on your waist, his thumbs stroking the dip of your spine. he leans in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the small of your back, then another higher up, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.
a desperate, hungry sound escapes you, a whine that’s almost a sob. you push your hips back instinctively, seeking more of his touch, more of anything.
the refined manners of the emerald kingdom, the years of etiquette lessons, the poised grace of a princess—it’s all gone, incinerated in the scarlet heat of this room, of these men.
you are need and hunger given form.
katsuki watches you, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest as he thought of the same thing. “look at you,” he muses, his voice thick with dark amusement. “where’s my polite little princess now? huh? all those pretty curtsies and soft-spoken words… fucked right out of you.” he leans forward slightly, his gaze searing into you. “good. that girl belonged to them. this?” he gestures at you, trembling and eager on your knees. “this is mine. you’re my wife. my queen. and you’re in the scarlet region now. i could fuck you raw in front of my entire war council and not a single bastard would bat a fucking eye.” the sheer, brutal ownership in his words makes you clench around nothing, a fresh trickle of wetness slicking your inner thighs.
katsuki sees it, his smirk widening. “but i won’t do that. ‘cause this… this filthy, desperate, perfect look on your face… that’s for me. and for him.” he nods toward eijiro behind you. “no one else.”
his attention sharpens, focusing solely on you. his voice drops, softening into a coaxing, dominant croon that’s somehow more overwhelming than his shouts. “c’mere, pretty. closer to me.” you shuffle forward on your knees until you’re between his spread legs, his hard, thick cock standing proudly just inches from your face. the musky, masculine scent of him is overwhelming.
“i know you haven’t done this before,” he says, his tone surprisingly gentle, like he’s instructing you in a sacred rite. “that’s okay. i’m gonna tell you exactly what to do. just be my good girl and follow my words, yeah?”
“i will. m’good girl,” you nod, your eyes wide and fixed on him, on the ruddy tip already beading with pre-cum.
“yes you are,” he praises you. “first… just taste me. use that pretty little tongue.”
leaning forward, you tentatively extend your tongue and lick a slow, careful stripe over the broad head. the taste is salty, uniquely him, and it sends a jolt of pure lust straight to your core.
“fuck,” katsuki hisses, his hips giving a tiny jerk. “just like that. perfect. so fuckin’ obedient for me.” his hand comes to rest on the top of your head, not pushing, just holding. “now… wrap your hand around me. show me how big i am for my queen.”
you reach out, your fingers seeming so small as you wrap them around his girth. you can’t quite close your thumb and forefinger. a soft, awed sound leaves your lips. “… so big.”
katsuki’s chuckle is ragged. “see? you need both hands. go on.”
you bring your other hand up, stacking it over the first, and finally manage to form a loose ring around him. the heat of him is incredible, the skin like velvet over steel. you begin to stroke, up and down, watching in fascination as his expression tightens with pleasure.
“yes… just like that… f-fuck, your hands are so soft,” he groans, his head falling back against the headboard for a moment before he forces it up to watch you. “doing so good. such a fast learner for me.”
meanwhile, eijiro is worshiping your back. his mouth is everywhere, sucking dark marks onto your shoulders, licking a hot path down your spine, biting gently at the swell of your ass. each touch, each possessive mark, makes you whimper and push back into him, your strokes on katsuki becoming less coordinated.
“so eager,” eijiro murmurs against your skin, his voice a gravelly vibration. “so perfect for him. for us.”
emboldened by their praise, by the fire coursing through your veins, you lean in again. this time, you drag your tongue from the very base of katsuki’s shaft all the way to the tip in one long, slow, wet lick.
katsuki’s reaction is instantaneous. a sharp, guttural “hnng!” rips from his throat, and his hand fists in your hair. “shit! where’d that come from, you greedy little thing?” but he’s grinning, all fierce pride.
you don’t answer with words, instead you open your mouth and take the head of his cock inside, sucking gently as you had seen done in erotic book and illustrations.
“oh, fuck yes,” he moans, his fingers tightening on your hair. “just like that… take me deeper now. slow—just like that. good girl…”
you obey, sinking down inch by agonizing inch. he’s so big, stretching your lips wide, filling your mouth until you feel him nudge the back of your throat. your eyes water, but you hold there, breathing harshly through your nose.
“look at that,” katsuki breathes, awe in his tone. he glances over your head, his eyes meeting eijiro’s. “she’s taking me so well… now it’s your turn, ei. fuck her. fill her up while she sucks me off.”
eijiro’s answering growl is pure hunger. you feel the blunt, hot head of his cock nudge against your dripping entrance, still stretched and sensitive from before. “gonna put it in now, sweetheart,” he coos, his voice a rough contrast to his gentle warning. “gonna fill you up just like your husband wants.”
you moan around katsuki’s length, the vibration making him curse and thrust his hips up minutely.
the sensation is overwhelming. the stretch and burn as eijiro slowly pushes inside you from behind, and the heavy fullness in your mouth.
“that’s it… take him,” katsuki groans, his hand guiding your head down a little further, helping you take more of him. “ffuuuck, your mouth… so hot and tight.”
eijiro bottoms out with a deep, satisfied sigh, his hips flush against your ass. “gods… she’s s-so tight,” he rasps.
then he begins to move. slow and deep thrusts that have you seeing stars. each forward drive pushes you further onto katsuki’s cock, making you gag softly. each withdrawal pulls a desperate whine from your throat.
“listen to her,” katsuki pants, his own hips beginning to move in tiny counter-thrusts to eijiro’s rhythm. “listen to those pretty little sounds she makes for us. fuck her harder, shitty hair. make her fucking feel good.”
eijiro obeys, his grip on your hips turning vice-like. his thrusts become harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room accompanied by his guttural grunts and your muffled cries. “so good… taking us both… our perfect queen.”
katsuki’s control is fraying. his thrusts into your mouth become less measured, more urgent. “gonna cum… fuck, you’re gonna make me cum down your pretty little throat,” he snarls, his voice strained. he fists your hair tightly, holding you in place as his pace turns erratic. “you want that? want me to cum in your mouth?”
you’re eyes stayed on his as you hummed in agreement.
“then earn it, baby. cum for eijiro while you suck me like the good girl you are.” katsuki says.
the challenge, the sheer depravity of it, ignites something frantic in you.
determined to feel that shattering pleasure again, to please him, you bob your head faster, taking him as deep as you can manage, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the sensitive head on each upstroke.
katsuki throws his head back with a ragged roar, his entire body tensing. “yes! just like that! fuck, baby! i’m gonna—!”
the first hot, salty pulse hits the back of your throat. he holds you there firmly as he empties himself with sharp, jerking thrusts, groaning your name mixed with filth and praise. “take it all. swallow it… be a good girl for your husband…”
as you struggle to swallow, tears streaming down your cheeks, katsuki cups your jaw with his other hand, his thumb stroking your cheek. his eyes are blazing, demanding. “look at me,” he commands, his voice raw. “give me your eyes while you swallow my cum.”
you force your watery gaze up to meet his. the connection is electric, intimate and degrading all at once. you see the raw possession, the awe, the unadulterated lust as you gulp him down.
“so fucking good… perfect girl,” he whispers, his thumb wiping a stray tear. he glances at eijiro over your shoulder. “now make my wife cum.”
with a look from katsuki, eijiro changes his angle, driving into you with deep, punishing strokes aimed directly at that spot inside you that makes you see white.
you fall forward, your arms giving out, but katsuki is there. you collapse against his chest, your face buried in his neck as eijiro pounds into you from behind. “ah! hngh—f-fuuuck. m’close. so close.”
“that’s it… let go… cum on my cock,” eijiro grunts, his rhythm becoming brutal, relentless. “gonna fill you up… breed you…”
katsuki holds you to him, one arm wrapped around your back, his other hand stroking your hair. his mouth is at your ear, a constant stream of filth and praise. “feel him? feel how deep he’s fucking my cum deeper into you? you’re gonna be dripping with us for days… our perfect, shared little wife… come on… let me see you fall apart.”
“katsuki, eiji!” you scream into katsuki’s skin as an orgasm more intense than any before tears through you, a convulsing, mind-breaking wave that has you clamping down on eijiro so hard he shouts.
“fuck! she’s—!” eijiro’s thrusts become erratic, then he slams home one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he roars his release.
you feel the hot rush of his seed joining katsuki’s inside you, the overwhelming fullness making you sob through the last tremors of your own climax. “ngh… fu—no more. ah…”
katsuki holds you through all of it, whispering praises into your hair. “i got you. just ride it out… that’s my girl, took us both so well…”
slowly, gently, eijiro slips out of you, leaning forward to press a tender kiss between your shoulder blades. “you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice reverent.
you are utterly spent, a boneless, trembling mess between them.
katsuki shifts, lying back and pulling you with him so you’re sprawled half on his chest. eijiro settles behind you, his big body curling around yours, one heavy arm draping over your waist to splay possessively on katsuki’s stomach. you are sandwiched in their heat, in their scent, filled with their essence.
the last thing you feel is katsuki’s lips brushing your forehead and his final, drowsy murmur. “ours.” the last thing you hear is eijiro’s low, content hum of agreement against the back of your neck.
then the world dissolves into warm, dark, satiated nothing.
bull hybrid sukuna's only interested in bullfighting until he isn't | 18+
cw: mdni, bullfighting, mentions of breeding, virgin!sukuna, cow hybrid!reader, he's a DICK at first, fluff, handjob, male lactation, tit sucking, thigh humping, 2k words of plot + 1k words of porn (tried to make him look like a bull don't hurt me)
farmer geto and farmhand toji have agreed that it's time to expand sukuna's desirable bloodline. he's against the idea, having no time to help some random woman tend to his babies when he's got matches to win to keep his streak up.
that is, until he sees you at one of his fights, all pretty and utterly bored, gaze sweeping over the arena and him without pause as you chew gum, ears flicking and tail swishing behind you. it throws him off as he's so used to women here pawing at him and rubbing up on him like cat hybrids in heat.
he bristles when your nose scrunches in disgust at the violent sparring before you as if you're some princess forced to be here out of duty. it's your fault that his opponent gets in more blows that usual, ones he fails to block when your eyes meet and you roll yours.
with an earthquaking growl, he body slams the other bull hybrid, the crowd roaring with cheers that quickly descend into a frenzy of screams as everyone scatters when the opponent sails through the air and crashes into the stands.
everyone flees, scared for the lives as the security and handlers try to calm the raging pink-haired man who's huffing and puffing which earns a snort from you. that's when he makes you his target, crimson eyes blacking out like a shark's that just scented blood.
narrowing his eyes into slits, nose wrinkled he bows his head, horns lowered as he charges at you. that finally gets you moving but you don't get far as he crashes into you, caging you with his hulking form, crowding you against the brick wall that encloses the arena.
heart pounding in your throat, you keep your breathing steady, eyes on his and refusing to look away. gravelly grunts and grumbles rumble through his heaving chest, his gaze boring into yours.
if it wasn't for the stone wall, he would have impaled you with his horns which are now pierced into the crumbling surface like an ornament.
“you'd think a man in your sport would have better control of his temper,” you drawl, completely disregarding his frustration that's bubbling and boiling over.
snarling, his lips curl back, ready to cut you down with his creative vocabulary only to be startled when you flick his nose. hard. manicured nails clinking against his septum piercing. it stings as he gives an involuntary whine, eyes watering from the pain.
“kindly remove yourself from my proximity and go clean up,” you tell him and while your voice is polite, it's more of a command than a suggestion. “you reek.”
right, sukuna thinks, he's caked in dirt and sweat. he's meek for some reason. perhaps it's your scent that's a heady cocktail of milk, apples and warmth, it makes him feel a bit drowsy with how soothing it is.
clearing your throat, you arch a brow. embarrassed, he withdraws to find the tip of one of his horns broken off. karma, you think smugly, watching the referees back away now that he's left all on his own, marching off without so much as glance back.
but the tips of his ears are pink as they flutter, tail stiff and you can't decide if that's from embarrassment or anger. maybe a bit of both.
“that's the bull hybrid you want to pass down his genes?” you ask geto later over a glass of wine at a nearby bar. “fat fucking chance.”
“he brings in the money and lots of it. we'd make a fortune if there were more hybrids like him in the ring! please,” toji cuts in from behind you, both men flanking you at the bar counter.
you're close friends with geto's fellow farmer, shoko, having helped her start up her milk business since you're a veterinarian and make sure her livestock is in tip top shape at all times. so when the handsome man with dark, long hair asked if you could carry the babies of his prized bull hybrid friend, you'd said you think about it.
it's why you came to this degenerate fight ring in the first place though after that unsavory first encounter, you're not so sure you want to have anything to do with him.
the flashing sign of the bar flickers, casting a sickly green glow over the scarred wooden table. you swirl the red liquor in your glass, it reminds you of his eyes. you scoff, feeling the phantom pressure of a heavy weight against your chest. your shoulders still ache from being slammed into the arena wall three days ago.
"look, he’s just... high-strung," the farmer says, leaning in, his desperation is palpable.
beside him, his farmhand—a man whose eyes see dollar signs instead of souls—nods eagerly. "he’s a virgin, girl. he doesn't know what to do with all that testosterone. if he could just get a successful knot, he’d settle down."
"he’s a beast," you say flatly. you’ve been bred by the best and the worst. you’ve handled bulls that weighed twice as much as this one, bulls who thought they were biggest and meanest around until you broke them in. but this one? he didn’t want a mate. he wanted a victim for his rage. "he’s too big, too mean, and frankly, i don’t get paid enough to be his punching bag."
you refuse the breeding contract. but, out of loyalty to your mutual friend and a soft spot for the heavy-bellied cows in the barn, you agree to stay for a week as a midwife.
the first two days on the farm are a test of silence. sukuna is everywhere, a flash of pink here and a tatted hand there, helping you when you certainly didn't ask.
you’re kneeling in the hay, checking a heifer’s dilation, and you feel that heavy, oppressive shadow fall over you.
"i didn't mean to hit the wall so hard," a deep, gravelly voice rumbles behind you.
you don't look up. you don't even flinch. "go away."
he doesn't. instead, he starts leaving things.
a basket of sun-warmed peaches, their skins bursting with sweetness. a lattice-topped cherry pie, still warm, smells like cinnamon and apology. a fresh glass of orange juice and all the tangerines you could eat after hearing you gush about how much you liked the fruit.
nervously, he lingers around, brushing the horses manes that were groomed just that morning in an attempt to hover near and watch you enjoy the treats, his tail flicking whenever you let out an accidental hum in delight.
against your better judgement, the peace offerings had shaved down your dislike but not as much as watching him chase after the little lamb that fled from you when you tried to do its check up. watching it nuzzle against his neck while he chuckled was annoyingly endearing.
in the glittering lake on geto's property, you often catch glimpses of the now timid hybrid swimming with fuzzy, yellow ducklings that follow him as if he's their mother.
other times it's when he's running around with the resident buffalo, splashing in the water and laying on its back as they both bask in the afternoon sun.
you even catch him taking naps with the fluffy, highland cows beneath the shade of a tree, dappled in sunlight with his hat tipped over his face, breathing steadily as a calf sleeps on his chest.
it's all very wholesome and cute but there was one time that left you hot and bothered more than you'd ever admit. you'd gone into the bathhouse without knocking, wanting to soak in one of the big, wooden tubs after a long day.
only you weren't alone, you came to find out, when you walked in on him, brawny, tanned body rising from the glossy tub, droplets trickling down his tattoos and plopping into the water.
the surface rippled, steam curling and making it hard to breathe as he stood to his full height, towering over with rippling, sculpted muscles. slicking back his blush locks with his hand, his half-hard cock bobbed when rolled his shoulders and sighed.
god, he put most men to shame and he wasn't even at full mast.
blinking out of your stupor, you sputtered, “uh, sorry! i thought it was empty.”
that's when he realises you're there, ears twitching in his hair as his low-lidded eyes flit up to yours just as his hand wraps around his shaft, pumping it lazily.
“no worries, sweetheart. i was just leaving,” he rumbled, unfazed as he stepped out of the tub, hand falling from his leaking cock as he draped a towel around his hips and walked out, shaking the water out of his wet hair as you gaped.
on the third night, you find a necklace on your pillow. it’s a leather cord strung with a polished white tip, the base plated with a gold cap. you recognize the texture—it’s the piece of his horn that snapped off when he charged you in the arena. to a bull hybrid, giving away a piece of his horn is like giving away a piece of his pride.
curiosity finally gets the better of you. on the fourth night, you head toward the secluded bachelor pad at the edge of the property. you intend to tell him to stop the gifts, to tell him that a piece of bone doesn't make up for a bruised rib.
the door is ajar. inside, the air is thick—cloying and sweet, like overripe clover and heavy musk. you hear a pained, wet groan.
"go... away," he wheezes.
you push the door open. he’s slumped on a reinforced bench, stripped to his waist. he looks massive, his muscles twitching with a feverish heat. but something is wrong. his chest is heaving, his pecs swollen and tight, looking almost engorged.
as your eyes adjust, you gasp. his dark, pebbled nipples are slick and glossy. a white droplet teases the edge of one, hanging heavy before falling to splash against his thigh.
"you're...lactating?" you whisper in disbelief, stepping closer.
he covers his chest with a massive, trembling hand, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson.
"it only happens during the rut," he grunts, his voice breaking. "because i've never... i'm backed up. it hurts. it's disgusting."
you’ve seen a lot in the breeding circuits, but the sight of this terrifying, "mean" bull reduced to a shivering, leaking mess stirs something different in you.
after all, you're a doctor. you're bound to want to help someone in agony.
no other reason...
"it's not disgusting," you say softly, reaching out to pull his hand away. your fingers brush his skin; he’s burning up. "you’re just full. all that pressure has nowhere to go."
he looks up at you, eyes blown wide and glassy with desperation. he’s so much bigger than you, but at this moment, he’s helpless.
"i can help you," you murmur, leaning in until you can smell the creaminess of him. "can i drink from them? it’ll help."
a low, vibrating rumble starts in his chest—not a growl this time, but a plea. he nods frantically, his hands falling to his sides as he arches his chest toward you, offering himself up.
"please," he chokes out. "please, just do it."
the silence of the barn is replaced by the wet, sloppy sound of your thirst. you lean in, your hands framing his bulging, burning chest. up close, the scent is intoxicating—heavy, floral, and concentrated like condensed cream.
you take one glossed, turgid nipple into your mouth, and the moment your tongue swirls around the tip, he lets out a shattered, high-pitched gasp.
the milk surges forward, filling your mouth instantly. a thick, sweet stream hits the back of your throat, and you have to swallow hard to keep up with the flow.
it’s richer than any bovine milk you’ve ever tasted, warm and laced with the musk of his rut. you moan against his skin, your throat working in deep, greedy gulps. he’s shaking violently now, his large hands hovering over your head, wanting to grab you but terrified of his own strength.
"god," he rasps, his head lolling back against the wall. "y-you’re actually—ah!"
as you drain one side, your hand wanders down. you find the heavy, straining heat of his denim, palming the massive bulge that has kept him in such a foul, frustrated temper. he’s huge—frighteningly so—but as you squeeze, he doesn't growl. he whimpers.
moving your hand away, you shift your focus to the other side, your mouth latching onto the second engorged pec. you massage the firm muscle with your palms, coaxing the milk out, feeling the internal pressure finally begin to subside. every time your thumb brushes the base of his cock through the fabric, his hips buck uncontrollably.
he’s pinning you between his knees now, his thick thighs trembling as he tries to get closer to the relief you’re providing. you welcome it with an approving hum, legs spread around one of his thick limbs, grinding your aching clit down on the muscle.
"more," he pants, his voice losing its edge, melting into something soft and needy. "please, drink it all. i’m so full... i’m so—fuck—"
you don’t stop until the tightness in his chest softens, his skin cooling as you drain the fever from him. you pull back, a thin trail of white escaping the corner of your mouth, looking up at the "mean" bull who is now nothing more than putty in your hands.
he looks down at you, dazed and completely undone, his dignity traded for the sheer, blissful relief of being handled by someone who isn't afraid of his size.
taking your free hand, he gulps nervously, hesitantly dragging it under the waistband of his pants, right over his pulsing shaft. hips quivering under your warm, soft palm, he presses them into your touch and your fingers curl around his length, the tips of them not meeting owing to how thick he is.
groaning into his pec, a drop of milk trickles down from the corner of your mouth as you suckle harder, thumbing the slit of his cock and smearing his weeping precum along the veiny, ridged shaft.
hot breaths pant out of him heavily as you peer up at him, pussy pounding at the lewd expression on his face, lips parted, brows creased and eyes drooping.
“is this okay?” you ask, lips popping off his tit to lick up the dribbling milk. you don't want to waste a single drop.
a groan clogs in his throat when you begin to stroke his cock, his hips twitching for more as his stomach shudders, thrusting into your hold whenever you rub the tip. needing it wetter, you suck in your cheeks then let a thick glob of warm spit spat onto his jerking tip.
you look so drunk like this, drunk on him, he can't help toying with your ears that flutter like the wings of a butterfly, nudging your nose with his so you lift you chin and he can lick a flat, wide stripe up from your neck to your lips, cleaning the streak of sweet milk from there.
it tastes like a melted vanilla ice cream and a hint of your fresh apple scent.
“fucking perfect, baby. please,” he whines, cupping the back of your head and guiding your eager mouth to latch onto his nipple again, a bead of milk bubbling there again as your tongue swirls around it.
you straddled his lap, both hands wrapped around his cock now, slick, squelching clicking between his thighs as you pump him in snug, long strokes that have him giving deep huffs as his tail curls around your ankle, tickling your foot while you drink from him.
something snaps in him when you pinch his mushroom cockhead and you yelp when he flips you onto your back, crowding you. his hands brace themselves on the bench as he thrusts his cock fast and hard into the ring of your hands, harsh grunts and feral groans spilling into the air.
“ah, ryo, i can't—” you fuss, wanting to suck on his jiggling tits some more, still hungry for that sweet, condensed milk of his that's coating your tongue and throat.
though you're not complaining about the hypnotic sight of them bouncing in your vision, so plump and bruised with pretty indents of your teeth.
realising what he'd done, his thrusts stutter to a stop as a sheepishly pushes his cock into your hands again. “sorry.”
“it's okay,” you assure him, pushing him onto his back again so you can suck his nipple into your mouth, humping his thigh as you jerk him off at the pace he'd been fucking into your hands until his a squirming mess, his tail playing with yours.
you had to hand it to shoko and geto, they were right about you being able to handle this rough and tough bull hybrid.
little did you know, you two had a one-man audience. a peeping tom. the scar at the corner of his lip stretched when he grinned sleazily as he fucked his fist just outside the home, one green eye cast in a warm strip of light from the ajar door.
note: inspired by the talented @bluukive's bull hybrid!toji and @vals-lente's gladiator!minotaur <333 *posts and logs off*
synopsis | in which your little sister, toph, is trying so hard to make you and firelord!zuko get along despite your obvious differences (for the sake of the gaang, of course, because toph has never had ulterior motives). and toph will do anything to get her way, absolutely anything.
content | angst? (it's so buzzy), little sister!toph, evil little shit!toph, simp!zuko on the low, brief bone manipulation, small miscommunication trope
word count | 2.6k
PART ONE
You and your sister lean lazily against one of the less crowded walls of the bustling great hall, the two of you "people-watching" as she funnily calls it, listening to other people's conversations through her sharp hearing and your stilled breathing. A few stare back at the both of you, whispering in your own little world, all inside jokes and complaints about the stuck-up air of the room.
Sometime in the midst of your joking and complaining, Toph had made some off-handed comment about a very particular man across the room, a close friend of hers, though Toph had never been very good at making friends. This one, you knew of, and of course he was here, it was his home you'd been invited to, his great hall which hosted the Fire Nation's very first party of the new scorching summer.
Toph's mentioning of him blanketed something else sinister, hid something teasing.
"You know, he's not so bad once you get to know him."
Your sister, Toph, had always proved rather convincing when it came to you---like everyone else, she had you wrapped around her strong little finger from the day she was born and all the days after. Her word was your Bible most times, you both put your trust in each other so completely, and there was rarely ever a doubt in your mind that Toph didn't know exactly what she was doing. But here, you couldn't help rolling your eyes.
She'd felt it somehow, your unimpressed expression, thumping at your shoulder quickly and laughing under her breath when you'd visibly winced.
"And he's attractive, too!"
You gave her a short look, brows raised in question. "Like you'd know, Toffee." She was always saying strange things like that, being able to feel when someone was interesting, or cute, or muscular. And you supposed that's what the Firelord Zuko was as you look around the room and allow your eyes to land on him.
Interesting in the way he spoke gruffly even when he was trying to be kind. The way he dragged men over to the group he was speaking to, just to have them agree with him on whatever he'd been arguing. Interesting in the way he let his hair fall over his scarred eye in public, not ashamed, you'd gathered, but not wanting to entertain the questions that came with it.
Cute in the way a bear was cute, something broad and grizzly, eyes squinting when he laughed and teased the Avatar and the Waterbending Master's brother.
Muscular like a sea of mountains, ripples of them across his body, pushing through the fabric of his formal garments. Muscular in the way his hands flexed out when he'd caught you staring at him, the way—oh, fuck, he'd caught you staring at him.
You swiftly turn back to a grinning Toph, her eyes shining white and mischievous. You thump her shoulder back, feeling the floor rumble beneath your feet, and it's not quite so obvious who's doing it but you think it's best not to find out. There are eyes boring into your side as you try and listen to the babbling woman in front of you—something about the food from tonight, or had she asked what food you wanted for tomorrow? You didn't know and you almost didn't really care, the way you'd spot him in your peripheral still glancing your way, only ever leaving his distraction when someone grabbed his shoulder or asked him something serious.
"I need some fresh air."
"Fresh?" Toph's face scrunches in a strange disgust, arms folding over her chest. Her smirk expands over her face as she stares right through you. "It's humid everywhere, you know. It's the Fire Nation—"
"Yes, yes, thank you for the tidbit."
With a kiss of her warm cheek, you hurry away from her before she can make some crude joke about the burning in your cheeks, and just before you escape into the main corridor, the Firelord catches your eye again.
And he is so disgustingly beautiful.
You scurry through the almost empty hallway, nothing but servants carrying piles of dirty bowls and cups and royal advisors gliding back to the hall to discuss important business with the still fresh lord, his duties seemingly never-ending. You slip and sneak behind one wall, and then another, left and right and left again, the passageways seemingly endless too. Once you let your mind settle, you finally register that you've stopped hearing the bustle that once filtered out of the great hall, met with the silent whirring on wind and dry humidity that made you sweat underneath your silky green dinner gown. All of sudden, you realize you're nowhere near the outdoor garden you were aiming for, and if you hadn't been so stubborn, you would've maybe admitted that you were lost. You make a few turns here and there that you think are leading you back in the direction of the hall, but you're not entirely sure, cursing yourself for being so equally, stubbornly distracted. Too absent-minded, Toph would often tease, never paying attention to your surroundings like you ought to.
You didn't care. You didn't need to pay attention like normal people did.
With a frustrated huff, cursing under your breath in a way that's still attempting to be lady-like, you slip off your nice shoes with a swift hand, letting your cold toes hit the stone floor.
You hum out, closing your eyes and listening for those busy vibrations you and Toph had been so attentive to before in the great hall. You mind wandered and search for her familiar cadence of footsteps against the bare ground—she had a habit of tapping her foot when she wanted to drown out noise, and you loved being the only one to hear it. You stepped carefully towards the tremor sounds in the earth, inching just closer to them to guide yourself back, feeling the jittery drunk conversation bouncing off of some walls in the distance. To your left, you'd concluded, not too many corridors way. You smile when you feel Katara's laugh somewhere far-off, mixing with the low rumble of Toph's chuckle. You wonder if she can hear your heartbeat, but the idea is quickly drowned out by another sound.
You tilt your head to pay attention to both, careful not to lose the guidance of your sister and her friend, but oh-so-curious as to who might be approaching.
Your smile drops and you resist opening your eyes for a moment. You know those heavy footsteps, that soft breathing reverberating in the air and in your ears.
You let your eyes flutter, a deep sigh leaving your lips without your permission.
And he smiles as he comes closer, something simple and boyish. "Good evening." He bows his head to you politely, and you return the favor, keeping your head down as he speaks. "Sorry to disturb you." You lift your head up when he takes a step closer, your hand reaching out instinctively. He stands still, as if at attention like a solider. "I'm Zuko."
You laugh and you can practically hear his heart flutter. "What are you doing, we know each other."
"Yes, I thought perhaps you'd forgotten." He adjusts his posture, his back and shoulders broadening. He's quick with his words, tumbling out of his lips like they've betrayed him. Still, he stands firm, head held high. "Since you'd failed to say hello."
Your breath hitched at that accusatory tone and you looked away to save face, knuckles crackling. "Yes, they sat us a way's away—"
"You failed to say hello the whole night."
He takes a careful step closer once again and this time you know well enough to step back, to keep this distance between you. And still, with your feet against the warm floor, you can feel his heartbeat quicken despite its normally calm pace. His hand looks like it might reach out for you but he knows well enough too.
"You know perfectly well why it seemed inappropriate."
Now, what's the story on you and the gruff Firelord?
Perhaps it starts when Toph had first introduced you to the jumbled and unlikely Avatar group a year ago, another hot summer that you can only remember when you dream.
Scorching days at Ember Island with your sister’s traumatized buddies from the war, sweat dripping from your body in vulgar sorts of ways when one distinct friend eyed you for longer than necessary. He had this way about him, something gorgeous and mesmerizing in a way that was unfair. When the summer heat got almost entirely unbearable, you'd all spent your time in the Water Tribe, basking in whatever cool air you could find. Your room had been just next to his, in a far wing of the palace, and you'd sneak away together when sleep refused to take you, or bundled up on the floor of your visiting chambers and tell stories upon stories. His voice like honey in your ears.
So, perhaps the starts instead during that same summer, in a now humid bedroom, with his hand up your skirt, and his lips against your jaw, and your name being mumbled repeatedly from his soft lips like a prayer. It's not quite so clear how you'd gotten to this point—whether it had been the drinks he'd snuck into room to rid you of the nighttime boredom, or the way your eyes couldn't stop flickering to his slender fingers brushing against yours—but sooner or later, you're on his lap, another hand in is your hair, and all decorum has been tossed right out of the window.
And the story ends that same evening, when there's a creak in the floorboard behind the bedroom door, and a quick glance between the two of you that says this can't possibly happen again. Sure, you hadn't been caught this time, but there was something messy about mixing things up with your baby sister's friends, something filthy about meeting in secret with the new Firelord in all his broken honor and his faltering prestige. He'd been worshiping you on that bedroom floor, but it could never happen twice, you two had reputations to uphold, kingdoms and communities to lead.
So, Zuko should know why you didn't speak to him at this party, why you hadn't spoken to him in almost exactly a year (of course, you both had been counting), and why you'd really only agreed to come in the first place because of Toph. Because she'd begged like she knew why you wouldn't want to, and you knew that seeing him from a safe distance was better than not seeing him at all.
But, you see, that's why he'd invited you too. It wouldn't be suspicious, because the whole group would come, and you both could speak because the whole group would be speaking, and he would promise not to let his hand drift towards your thigh like he wanted, he'd promise. And instead, you stayed on the complete other side of the hall the whole time, laughing at what other people were saying to entertain you, talking to everyone except for him, waltzing around in that dress and that color that drove him absolutely insane. He'd been so hopeful when he finally caught your eye across the table. When you'd left almost immediately after, avoiding his gaze—he had been almost absolutely sure that it was an invitation.
However, the way you were looking at him now said differently.
You looked around carefully. No one close by, no one peeking. Still, you wouldn't relax your shoulders just yet, lest the two of you grow too comfortable. You lowered your voice and stripped that unlikeable tone out of it. "You should get back to the hall and I can follow behind. Surely people are awaiting you—“
"I can excuse myself in my home."
"You can also speak to your guests properly in—”
“Is that what you are—a guest?”
“As opposed to what?” There’s a heaviness in your breath that hadn’t been there before, and you suddenly realize how close you’ve let him come, how near his breath and heart rest sound against the arch of your feet. “My lord.” Your scowl deepens as you flick your wrist and quicker than you’d meant it to happen, Zuko stumbles back with a hand on his chest. Your lips almost fix themselves to ask it he’s okay, but you’d hate to give him fuel.
He lets out a huff of a laugh, arms lunging to grab your hands. He’s trapped you, walking you back further and further away from the party, from Toph’s clever tone, from the clinking of lingering drinks and glasses—it alls starts to fade as you struggle against him.
“You’re not supposed to be able to control the human body,” he notes breathlessly, gaze traveling and skittering all over you, like he was imagining you use those same skills for all the wrong reasons, for nefarious purposes. “What was it you said, the calcium and phosphorus in my bones?”
“Who cares what I said, we shouldn’t be here—!”
Thump, thump, thumping upon the stone floor and your sister’s voice is whispering to you three halls down, asking where you’ve run off to. But she knows exactly where you are, exactly who you’re with, she’s always been so much better at that seismic sensing than you.
You find yourself wondering why she really begged you to come to this party, why she’d insisted on mentioning Zuko in every single conversation since you’d arrived.
Toph rarely played stupid, but when she did?
Something was up her sleeve.
You rip one arm from Zuko’s slowly loosening grip and slap your hand against his lips, and you swear you hear him groan against you, leaning closer into your touch. But you know silencing him won’t matter. Toph knows. You can practically feel her smile spreading across her lips like butter. And then you hear her laugh—that evil one she does, when she’s mocked you for just long enough, when she’s won in some game, when all goes her way in the easiest way possible. She’s laughing, but she stops walking—abruptly, so it seems, and—
The ground rumbles.
“Shit.”
“Hmm?”
Before you know it, you’re dragging Zuko away from Toph’s line of fire—she’s clumsy when she’s giggling—and just then, the ground cracks before you both, the dirt and rock from beneath emerging from the opening and creating a blockage between you and every other living being in the palace.
You and Zuko. Alone.
Toph would be dead by morning, you’d make sure of it.
“Aw,” Zuko coos against your palm before you slip it away. “You trapped us together, how sweet.”
You shove at his chest with no real weight, allowing him to drift just slightly closer. “Don’t get your hopes up, it was that brat—this is your home, you know, you’ll have to clean this all up.”
“No, I owe Toph, I think this’ll do.” His hand crept closer to your face, thumb running over your jaw as soft as kisses, as light as feathers, and you burned with the feeling. But you let him. Not just let him, you wanted him to, you'd hoped he'd touch you, just like this, the whole night, knowing that you shouldn't. He smiles sweetly, dipping his head to nose the crook of your neck, the bridge running just behind your ear and down so he could take in the scent he'd been waiting for---a whole year he'd been waiting. "Please. Tell me you've thought of me."
You let in a sharp breath, straightening your figure at even the thought of your answer. How were you supposed to lie?
"Even once would be enough."
His other hand dips to your waist, pulling your hips closer to his own in this new comfortable silence, smiling gently against your skin.
"I can show you how enough it would be."
guys I'm working on part two THIS VERY SECOND I SWEAR please don't hurt me
hope you guys enjoy and let it be nourishing to our bodies
some char. analytics for the greatest fire lord to ever live
it’s important for zuko hat you care about how he feels, not some surface level expectation but someone who really gets him on a soul level. aside from one person in his whole life he’s been neglected and abused over and over again, and even though he grows into this exceptionally beautiful man he’s still carrying his pain. his reluctance to date you at first isn’t because his heart isn’t already yours—don’t ever mistake that tenderness for anything less. once he lets himself date you though he’s yours for life.
but it’s not without its shadows because he has massive ptsd. the willingness to stay right there beside him when those episodes hit is one of the biggest things he secretly looks for in you. he doesn’t expect you to baby or coddle him through the storm, just to acknowledge it softly and not turn away.
having kids and building a family matters so much to him too because you already share one sweet daughter… but you have to understand why more feels heavy for him, tracing all the way back to his own shattered family. he carries massive trauma around azula and he’s so scared of the world twisting your children into echoes of everything his relatives became.
it would take a long while to convince him to have another one, something you as his beloved wife would have to be okay holding space for with so much patience and love. but eventually i feel like your gentle presence will heal those old fears, and there would be this open, hopeful possibility for more.
it’s also important to note that zuko may feel it difficult to stray from your side because of those deep abandonment issues that still whisper in the quiet hours. he clings a little tighter, heart always reaching for reassurance that you’re really there, that this warmth between you won’t vanish like some long drawn out smoke. he wants so badly to make sure you never have to feel that hollow ache he knows too well—the fear of being left behind, forgotten in the dark. worth not a glance.
sometimes he worries his political duties pull him away too often, leaving you and his little ‘zumi waiting in the soft glow of the palace lanterns while scrolls and meetings steal his hours. those moments twist in his chest like old burns, making him question if he’s failing at being the steady presence you both deserve. but underneath it all, he just wants to be loved fully and to love you properly in return.
you become his safe harbor, the one who sees every fractured piece and still chooses to stay, turning his fears into something softer, something that feels like home at last. something that he feels like he deserves. something that feels like is his.
if you'd like to be in a zuko taglist please let me know!
taggies : @miffysoo , @kombuchaaaaa , @waamp , @uchihabbynic , @silverianni , @ivyforeve , @xoxo-venus , @syubseokie
synopsis. a heated sparring match in the palace gardens unveils hidden truths... (3.5k)
contents. piv, semi-public, mentions of overstim, fingering, creampie, hair pulling, choking (if you squint), fwb-ish, reader's a bit of a brat, zuko tries his best to put her in her place (fails bc he's whipped), bloodbending (let's pretend reader can do this at will), not proofread.
note ⋆.𐙚 ̊ . . . the bending scenes might read a little bit awkward bc i suck at writing action sequences — or like anything having to do with powers and stuff in general — so pls don't pay too much attention to the logistics of it all. just enjoy the ride >.<
the air is warm, suffocatingly so, and you're drenched in sweat. your body is sore all over, and exhaustion settles deep into your bones, and yet, you refuse to yield. the man across from you remains composed, despite your persistent — albeit pathetic — attempts to throw him off-kilter. trying to even the playing field was proving to be an impossible challenge, but you were determined.
gathering your wits, you rise from your haunches, reassuming your stance once again: feet shoulder-width apart, back straight, one palm out-stretched, facing your opponent, the other close to your body, steadying you. closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, forcing your body to enter a state of stillness and absolute concentration.
briefly, you visualize your attack, then, with meticulous precision, you bend the water from the garden's fountains and propel it towards the man in one fluid motion. the surge of water takes him by surprise, and he loses his footing for a modicum of a second, but it's just enough for you to wrap a water-whip around his ankle.
before you even get a chance to pull him, he's already making quick work to escape, using the heat of his flames to vaporize the water-whip. rather quickly, the palace garden becomes overtaken with a thick, imperceptible fog, and once again, the air grows suffocating. you can't see him, but you can feel him. the heat of his flames. the smell of ash. he moves with the delicateness of a blown dandelion, like smoke sifting through air.
it's so quiet, so still, that the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own blood rushing through your veins. the ringing in your ears as you try to focus on your surroundings. it should scare you — being exposed like this, like a prey animal — but any feelings of fear are quickly replaced with those of unadulterated excitement.
still en garde, you cautiously begin treading through the fog, turning every-so-often so as to avoid being caught in a sneak attack from behind. somewhere in proximity to you, you hear the faint sound of shuffling, and you turn on your heels quickly, ready to attack — only, there's nobody there. every attempt made by you to clear the fog is pathetically thwarted, and any space you somehow manage to clear, is almost immediately replenished.
your excitement was beginning to wane. this little game of cat-and-mouse was quickly starting to grow irksome, and you wanted to just say, "to hell with this sparring match!" but you decided to hold your tongue instead.
if you were going to win, you were going to have to play dirty. "growing tired, fire lord? or are you scared to face me?" you yell into the fog, a smirk playing on your lips. no response.
smiling, you open your mouth to speak again, "fine. i guess i'll have to spar with the avatar, at least he doesn't hide from my attacks like a coward," you start, abandoning your stance. you lace your hands behind your back, and begin to walk further through the fog, feigning indifference. "the thing i love about aang, is that he's not afraid to take a blo–" your sentence is cut off unceremoniously.
in comes zuko, barreling through the fog with an onslaught of flames. the attack is sudden, but doesn't hinder you from delivering your next series of blows. now that you've got him in close range again, you deliver your dirtiest trick of all.
you close your eyes again, and focus not only on your nearest surroundings, but everything. the moisture in the air, the sweat on your skin, the water in the flowers of the garden, the blood rushing through your body — his body. then, with the self-assuredness of a trained assassin, you bring him to his knees, forcing him down into the stone with a strong but steady hand.
the man's amber-gold eyes blow wide, not in fear, but in shock. he strains against your hold, but to no avail. slowly, as if you were a hunter admiring a fresh kill, you begin to encircle him. holding him here, like this, you can feel everything. the sweat above his brow, the saliva pooling in his mouth, the blood pumping through his heart and traveling to his other organs. the artery on the side of his neck is pulsating so wildly it might as well be an extension of your own. eventually, you halt your movements and bend down to kneel before him, inching close enough until your lips are just centimeters away from his.
"forgive me for playing dirty, baby, but i've had enough of sparring for today," you whisper, tilting your head in preparation for a kiss, ghosting your lips over his. "i can think of a few things that are just as productive, and none of them involve these..." you rasp, hand wrapping around his robe. the words die on your lips the moment you make contact with his, and with one smooth flick of your wrist, you relenquish control over his body.
without hesitation, he grabs you by the shoulders and pins you down into the rough stone of the garden ground. his grip is bruising, and his thumbs, which are positioned on either side of your collarbone, leave crescent-shaped indents in their wake, but there's no real threat. no bite.
"you're right," he breathes, looming over you, chest pressing to yours, "that was pretty dirty. i should punish you for it, leave you here to…" he removes a hand from your shoulder, trails it down the space between your chest, down the expanse of your stomach, then settles between the aching heat of your thighs. he cups your cunt over the fabric, and you shudder at the contact. "…should leave you to take care of it yourself."
zuko practically curses under his breath. he can feel you through your pants and — shit, you're so wet. he has half a mind to take you right here. to ravage you, and pull you apart threadbare, while you're lying on your back for him, so willing and ready — but the self-discipline he's honed over the years is ironclad. unlike you, he's learned to be patient. to take his time. and right now, he was going to show you exactly what it looked like when someone played dirty tricks.
squirming in his hold, you push up from your elbows, chin high and eyes sparkling with something that does nothing to calm the ache in his cock. feeling emboldened, you lean up, the beginnings of mischief on the tip of your tongue. "being mean doesn't suit you," you prod, peering up at him through long lashes, giving them an avian flutter.
zuko chuckles, deep and drawn out, and you can feel the vibration of it in your ribs. he takes a rule from your playbook, puts his face real close to yours, so close that you think he's going to kiss you — but he quickly bypasses your lips and droops down to your ear instead.
his breath is hot on the shell of your ear when he whispers, "and being a brat doesn't suit you. like you a lot better when you're nice to me. think i let you get away with too much," he says, hands already making quick work of disrobing you. "if i rewarded insolent behavior, that'd make me a bad fire lord, wouldn't it?"
you turn your gaze, mulling over what to say. "so, make an example out of me, fire lord," you breathe, tone laced with something raw, bleeding with want and desperation. you cease your squirming, lay your head back against the stone, and look up at him through lidded eyes. the blue of your irises so dark, that they almost look obsidian in the afternoon light.
"i yield," you exclaim. " i yield, i yield, i yie–!"
he captures your lips in a fervent kiss, and whatever ounce of discipline he thought he had, is long since forgotten the second you sigh into his mouth. immediately, you melt into his embrace, and he loosens his grip on your shoulders to hoist you up and into his lap. your hands are quick to wrap around his neck, and you take advantage of this new position to press your body closer to his, letting your lower half rock languidly over his clothed crotch. he responds with a soft groan, and you drink it down immediately, licking a wet stripe across his lips so you can lick into his mouth.
briefly, you pull away, and a crystalline rope of saliva tethers from your mouth to his. breathless and panting, you draw your head far enough to study him. his silk robes are disheveled, the pieces of hair that frame his face stick to his skin like wet parchment, his lips are slick with spit, and his chest and face are smattered in a deep, crimson-red shade that resembles the color of his hanfu.
he's so beautiful like this, you think. when he's not bearing the weight of an entire nation's misdeeds on his shoulders. when he's not bearing the weight of his father's sins, and everyone else who came before him. reaching up, your finger traces the royal headpiece nestled in his bun, trails across the ridges of each point. slowly, you lift it from his head, and watch as his long, raven locks falls into place around his shoulders.
"back then, they'd have your hand for removing a fire lord's headpiece from his hair," he says, leaning back on his hands.
"yeah, well, just add it to my long list of offenses," you smirk, wrapping your arms around his neck again. "plus, i think this fire lord happens to enjoy me."
zuko leans in, rests his forehead against yours. "i do?" he asks, voice light and teasing.
"you do," you say, matter-off-factly, lips ghosting over his. "it's why you let me misbehave so much."
"you're right, and that stops right now," he replies, though, you know his threats are empty and hold no real weight. it shows in the way he kisses you, how he picks you up and carries you to the grass. shows in the way he slips his thick fingers into your weeping slit, working you open until you're a sobbing, desperate mess for him. and when you're begging for him, so wet, and pleading, and pliable, that's when he unsheathes himself from his robes.
fists his aching cock once, twice, before he's leaning over your expectant body, one arm nestled beside your head, and the other wrapped around the base of him, lining up with your core. his eyes flit from your face to between your bodies, and he watches intently as the head of his cock begins to breach past your folds. the both of you shiver upon contact, and you find your arms wrapping around his back, fingertips leaving impressions into the heated skin. slowly, he pushes further and further, until there's no telling where he ends and you begin, and the second he's fully sheathed, the both of you throw your heads back.
he's so deep, and so heavy inside of you, and it stings. it should be easier after so many times, but it never is, and when he attempts to move, you squeeze your thighs around his hips so as to still him.
"just be still, please. for a second," you gasp, closing your eyes, trying not to focus on the intrusion, the twitching of his cock inside your walls. while the two of you lay still, zuko begins to busy himself with your lips. kisses you slow, with purpose, like he's trying to compartmentalize the shape of them to memory, and how they taste, and how they feel as they move against his. if agni decided, for whatever reason, to strike him down at this very second, he thinks he'd die happy. being between your thighs, kissing you breathless, he never grows tired of it. it's addicting, almost, and scary — how easily he loses any semblance of sense around you.
he tears himself from your lips, noses against your jawline, down the column of your throat, kisses and bites the skin there until you're littered in marks of his creation. the pain has long since subsided, and now you're eager for him to make a mess of you, to take you apart, piece by piece.
you find your hand snaking into his hair, and with a firm, but gentle tug, you pull him from the interstice of your neck and say, "do your worst, show me how i ought to behave around a fire lord."
sitting back on his haunches, he pulls all the way out of you, leaving just the tip of him inside, and then plunges all the way back into you with a devilish smirk. the force pushes you up against the grass, and your back arches in response, giving him enough access to maneuver you onto his lap. adjusting to the new position, one arm settles on the fat of your ass, and the other reaches up to cup your jaw. his grip on your jaw is vice, rough, and he turns your head to force your gaze to his. slowly, he begins rolling his hips, lifting you all the way up, just to bring you all the way back down with cruel precision.
"doesn't matter how hard i give it to you," he grits through bared teeth, his fingers pressing into your cheeks, "you're just gonna do what you want anyway, hm?"
you let out a soft laugh, hands sifting through silk locks again, grabbing a fistful. "you make it easy," you say, tugging on the strands. "you just look so cute when you're mad at me, and you get that knot between your brows. how can i no–!" he interrupts your admission with a sharp, punctuated thrust.
"you're such a brat," a thrust, "so stubborn all the time, and you've got such a smart mouth… but agni," another, "the way you fuck me, the way you fit around me… makes up for all the headaches." removing his hand from your jaw, he halts his ministrations briefly to slip off his hanfu until he's left in just his tunic. he lays it flat on the grass, then gently settles you down against it before grabbing you by the hips, and flipping you onto your hands and knees. without pause, he lines himself up again with your cunt, and pushes all the way to the hilt, until the plush, pad of your bottom is flush with his pelvis.
he doesn't even give you a second to adjust to the intrusion, immediately pulling out of you, and plunging back in, forcing your back into an impossible arch so that he can sink even deeper. you drop to your elbows in reponse, laying your head against the cotton fabric, and stuff it in your mouth to keep from screaming out for everyone on the palace grounds to hear.
his staff had been suspecting there might be something going on between the two of you. between all the "sparring matches," and "diplomatic meetings," and "impromptu visits," they figured you were more than just the fire lord's friend. it was the palace's best-kept-open-secret — everyone in his retinue knew, but nobody had ever been bold enough to question it. still, you didn't want to confirm their suspicions.
zuko notices you biting down on the fabric, and he forces you up on your knees, holding your hands behind your back. "don't act shy now," he grunts, hands tightening around your arms, "you needn't worry about anyone hearing. they're paid to mind their business. so, please, let me hear you."
you shake your head, stuttering out a small no, and he responds by wrapping a hand around your throat, so that he can press you flush against his chest. with his free hand, he sneaks his way down to the flesh between your thighs, and he presses two, fat fingers against your clit. he circles the nub in tight, quick sucession, and your back bows against him. a loud, debauched moan rips from your throat, and though you can't see it, there's a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips. his chin lowers to rest on your shoulder, and he turns to whisper in your ear, "good, so you can take direction. again, louder. this time, say my name."
"z-zuko – ngh – faster," you demand, hand shooting up to rest against the one he has on your throat. zuko obliges, quickening his rhythm, pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt, all while his other hand continues to work your swollen clit raw. you're breathless, and panting, and every inch of your body feels lit aflame, like you've been submerged in a vat of liquid-hot lava. you're fluttering around him now, a telltale sign of your impending release — and you can tell he's close too. his breaths grow shallower, and his thrusts, once fast and precise, are becoming erratic.
"are you close?" he asks, fingers relentless. you nod rapidly, crying out a breathless yes. without unsheathing himself, zuko forces you down onto your stomach, fucks you that way, and rocks into you like an animal gone rabid. it's obscene, unbecoming of a man with as much authority as he has, but he can't be bothered to care. not really. not when you're a sobbing mess beneath him, moaning his name, telling him how good he feels, how deep he is, and squeezing around his cock like a vice.
the knot in your stomach is taut, and threatens to unravel with every thrust of him that bumps closer, and closer to your cervix. the pleasure is so dizzying, that you're not even aware you're speaking. "i-i'm c-close!" you shriek, mouth agape. "come with me. w-want it inside."
unceremoniously, you come with a shrill cry, and the air shifts around you, becomes suffocating. your body stiffens, before relaxing, and you — all but literally — melt into the ground beneath you. your subconcious mind is anywhere but here at the moment, somewhere above, up in the clouds. your body feels like it's made of sea foam, you feel so light, that you briefly question if you're even real.
with a few more punctuated thrusts, zuko follows behind you, spilling his white-hot seed deep inside of you. you squeeze around him from the sensation, and he whimpers in response before falling atop of you. lazily, he continues to pump you full of his cum, and then rolls off of your limp body.
the two of you lay in the warmth of the afternoon sun, and the gentle breeze in the air does well to cool your sweat-slicked, over-heated bodies. eventually, the rapid rise and fall of your chests begin to slow, and your breaths return to a more relaxed state. when you turn your head to look at him, his chest is flushed all the way to his cheeks, and there's a calm expression overtaking his sharp features. you scoot closer, draping half of your body atop his chest, and just observe him.
you've never been shy about admiring him. lazily, you trace the planes of his face with your finger. you let it wander over his jaw, the rough edges of his scar, across his forehead, down his nose, then stop at his lips. you run your fingertip along the plush pads, before abandoning them to thread your fingers through his silky-smooth, raven hair.
"you're beautiful," you whisper, more so to yourself, not really looking for an answer. his eyes flicker across your face, then he sits up on his elbows, and places a chaste kiss to your lips. short, sweet, but firm.
"i love you," he says, unthinking. he's never said it before, nor have you, but he's thought it on more than one occasion, and he's always known it. hesitantly, you pull away, and he thinks he's upset you, but then you're tackling him into the grass, kissing him breathless.
"you love me?" your voice is so small, so sheepish, barely above a whisper. he can't even believe it's coming from you, that someone as loud, and stubborn, and annoying as you can sound so unsure. he wants to tease you for it, but he doesn't.
"of course, why else do you think i put up with all your mischief?" he admits, throwing an arm behind his head. "i mean, being gorgeous can only get you so far…"
gasping, you slap his chest, and he lets out a boisterous laugh. "oh, really? i happen to think this face has gotten me pretty far," you say, poking him. "you were practically undressing me with your eyes the moment we met!"
zuko raises his arm up in surrender, metaphorically waving the white flag. "okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he laughs. you squint your eyes playfully, raising a brow. "alright, maybe i did perhaps, think about you naked the first time we met. and you've exceeded my expectations, so you should pat yourself on the back — mmf!"
this time, you cut him off with a kiss. "okay, let's head back now before your advisor has my head," you say, huffing out an exasperated breath. as you begin to pull yourself from his hold, he pulls you right back down, keeping you pressed to his side.
"let him wait," he sighs, hands hiking up your skirts, "the fire lord is busy."
Taglist | Coming soon | Ao3 Wattpad | Navigation | About me
My Hero Academia
Idol!AU
Infomation // Snippets
Bias and Bias Wrecker - Idol!Alpha!KiriBaku x Stylist!Omega!FemReader
You had been a Nexus for many years before joing U.A. Entertainment as a hair stylist for NextGen. Little did you know the hotest topic for group was who was you bias and who was your bias wrecker.
Frenzy - Idol!Alpha!Kirishima x Pack!NextGen x PA!Omega!FemReader
Being a PA omega for idol group NextGen was a dream turned nightmare. After a traumatic event during a schedule, the pack step in pulling your back from panic, back from loosing yourself to your omega.
KiriBaku
Welcome Home Omega - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader
Omega y/n returns home to her pack after so many years aboard being a successful hero, now they fear being rejecting by her pack and more importantly her alpha’s.
Omega Stop - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader
Omega y/n returns home to her alpha’s after being away in Europe, thinking she would be able to re-join her alphas and be happy. Only to discover they move on without her.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3
Pheromone Shower - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader
Alpha Kirishima gets hit by a quirk at work and runs from Alpha Bakugou with only one thought on his mind, their omega y/n.
** There will be 2 other matching with each member of the couple getting hit - tbw**
Some Alpha you are, Pathetic! - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader
You and Bakugou knew one thing for certain, Kirishima was already in your pack. But with your heat approaching you belived it was time to say it outloud, little did you know Bakugou is a very jealous, insecure alpha and feels threatened...
Without you, there is no us. - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader
Bakugou is finally home after so many years undercover, the only issue the people he loves the most in the world, got together while he was away, and are expecting. Leaving him behind or so he thought.
Safe with Us - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x MidroiyaTwin!Reader
You were Midroiya's twin, Bakugou's mate but life isn't easy and one day you were kidnapped, stripped from everything you know. Many years have passed, Bakugou has moved on but only now have you been able to escape, to return to your family. A family that has moved on.
Part 1 Part 2
You're right where you belong - Alpha!Kirishima x Omega!Bakugou x Omega!Reader
Everyone around you had someone. What was wrong with you? Everyone in your pack moved on and was happy, but you could not find the specific moment that everything started to feel like it was all falling apart. The feeling seeped into every moment of your life and at this moment it felt like it was always there. You thought you had a place with Bakugou and Kirishima but they were happily mated and has no need for you. The easiest outcome, dissappear into the background and everyone will forget you, eventually.
Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5
Bakugou Katsuki
Glitz & Glamour - ProHero!Alpha!Bakugou x Omega!Reader
Omega y/n gets lost trying to find her way to the Hero’s gala and her Alpha is not too pleased by this.
As It Should Have Been *RETIRED* - ProHero!Alpha!Bakugou x Omega!Reader
Bakugou didn't deserve to be where he was, he didn't deserve his number 1 spot as a pro-hero, he ruined your life and in turn, you will ruin his by taking everything he wanted in his life, a family, a happy omega and a successful rut.
*RETIRED, NO MORE PARTS OR UPDATES*
Our Narrative - ProHero!Bakugou x ProHero!Reader
IS THIS THE END TO JAPAN'S FAVOURITE HERO COUPLE? What happens when a certain blonde hero cheats on his loyal girlfriend of 10 years?
You've alot of nerve - Fantasy!Alpha!Bakugou x Omega!Reader
Omega y/n goes on the run to help her family and tribe, but now it's time to come home, y/n only hopes its not too late for her alpha.
Relax! Please? - Bakugou x Reader
life? Overwhelming. School? Overwhelming. Your friends? Overwhelming. The dorms? Overehemling, there is not break to it all, or is there?
4 v 1 - Bakugou x Reader
There were four moments in Bakugou life that he let you slip through his fingers and one moment he didn’t.
Kirishima Eijrou
Fainites - ProHero!Alpha!Kirishima x Omega!Reader
10 years ago, y/n made the decision to leave her family and have the life she always wanted with Kirishima after graduating. Something happened the night of graduation, alone and heartbroken y/n leaves Japan, closing that chapter of her life. Now number 1 in Europe, she must return to Japan for a quick assessment, what happens when she sees his toothy grin again.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
Losing you would be the end of me - Kirishima x Reader
There was one thing you and Kirishima wanted in life and that was to be parents together and grow old together. In a turn of events, Kirishima has to deal with the prospects that he'll have to do it all without by his side.
His hair is black? - Kirishima x Reader
You and Kirishima just welcomed your first son to the world, he's the spitting image of his father, jet black hair and all. The thing is, Yuki's Uncles and Aunts, don't know the signature jet-black hair from the Kirishima clan and suspect foul play.
Keep it Hidden - Snippet
Being Bakugous twin was a struggle, being in love and secretly dating his best friend was even more of a struggle when all hero's have their annually holiday get away. How will you and Kirishima navaigate this trip.
"Keep it Hidden" - ProHero!Kirishima x TwinBakugou!Reader
Maybe your secret relationship wasn't as secret as you both thought
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
I've been a fool - ProHero!Alpha! Kirishima x BakugouSibling!Reader
Kirishima was a strong alpha. Everything you could want a partner. There had been multiple times in which you had almost kissed, but you both knew what it was. Both of you are too afraid to speak about it. But what happens when the door is opened and somebody forgets.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
Denki Kaminari
Runs in the family - Denki x Reader
You felt it was time to introduce your long term boyfriend, Denki, to your dads. What you didn’t expect was for him to be so nervous.
Hanta Sero
Unspoken Words - ProHero!Sero x ProHero!Reader
Being heroes was a difficult job, maintaining relationships almost impossible, finding someone for sex play that hasn't already made up a picture in their head? Absolutely impossible.
Shouta Aizawa
Pending
Attack on Titan
Levi Ackerman
Hidden in Plain Sight
Having almost lost their lives due to the inexperience of recent cadets, Captain Y/N demands change and places themselves at the mercy of the 104th. While training with the new cadets, y/n might have to reveal more of her life than she wanted, when a broken Levi and Cadets enter her home uninvited. Her secret life is pulled into the open, making her say goodbye to the little piece of quiet she had for a few years.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (pending)
Failed Experiment - Snippet
Alpha!Levi Ackerman x Omega!Reader
Summery - pending
Erwin Smith
I Need You Still
Erwin was your life, but humanity needed him more. You left the scouts and him and found a new life for you and your secret child he never knew about. Now Marley attack Paradis and all retired server members are called back to their stations, its time to talk about the elephant in the room.
Jean Kirstein
Borrowed Time
Y/n and Jean’s relationship had always been rough but now she has to train him to be a perfect scout, the past resurfaces and brings with it old wounds that never healed.
Synopsis. After a life-altering encounter with the dangerously magnetic Toji, you’re left reeling—caught between desire, doubt, and the haunting possibility that you meant more to him than just another night. Weeks of silence shatter your resolve, only for your next heat to drag you back into his orbit. But when a mysterious Alpha intervenes and Toji reacts with explosive jealousy, the truth becomes impossible to ignore: whatever exists between you is volatile, possessive, and far from simple.
A/N. Yayyyy Chapter 2 is finally done! I really hope you enjoy it as much as Chapter 1 💕 I honestly didn’t expect that many likes. Thank you all so much, it means a lot :’)
Chapter 3 is already in the works ^-^ And yes… I have a slight obsession with the Zenin men (Toji, Megumi, and Naoya... Yes, NAOYA, I know, I know 😭 don’t come for me). They’ll all play a role as the story unfolds. Also, just to avoid any confusion: Megumi is obviously of age in this story! Enjoy 💖
You can find Chapter 1 here.
The echo of Toji’s command still lingered in the quiet suite, vibrating faintly in the air.
You forced yourself to move. Your summer dress lay where you’d abandoned it hours ago—a crumpled pool of yellow cotton on the floor. You bent to pick it up, your fingers trembling as you shook it out. Folding it felt oddly domestic, almost absurd—a small, ordinary act to steady yourself after the wrecking ball that had just torn through your life. You tucked it into your handbag, turned, and left.
Leaving the suite felt like walking out of a pressurized chamber. The hallway was sterile, white, and smelled of antiseptic, aggressively neutral after the musk-heavy air of the breeding room. Your heart hammered against your ribs. Toji was likely already in another suite, maybe already buried inside another Omega. The image flashed through your mind—his back muscles flexing, that dark, hungry grin directed at someone else—and a violent shudder rattled your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the thought down. He had said you were his. He had given you, his card.
You walked toward the reception area, your heels clicking on the polished floor. Shoko, the Beta receptionist with the perpetually polite smile, looked up from her computer. Her eyes roamed over you, catching the marks and the heavy scent of sex and Alpha pheromones that clung to you like a second skin, too deeply ingrained for any shower to wash away. Shoko’s smile didn't falter, but her eyes gleamed with a knowing, professional curiosity.
"Everything satisfactory, Miss?" Shoko asked, her tone smooth.
You felt the heat rush up your neck to your ears. You nodded quickly, unable to trust your voice. Satisfactory. It was a laughable understatement. You had been ruined in the best way possible, turned inside out and put back together with a knot that had reshaped your insides.
"More than satisfactory," you managed to whisper, your voice raspy. You gripped the strap of your handbag tighter, the business card burning a hole in the pocket where you’d shoved it.
"Excellent," Shoko said, typing something into her log. "We look forward to seeing you again."
You didn't respond. You pushed through the glass doors of the clinic and out into the city night. The air was cool, a sharp contrast to the humid warmth of the suite, but it did nothing to quell the fire still smoldering in your blood.
The ride home was a blur of streetlights and internal panic. Every time the cab slowed, you tensed, waiting for the driver to turn around, to smell the potent Alpha residue on you and comment on it. But he just hummed along to the radio, oblivious to the Omega in his backseat who was currently carrying the load of one of the most dangerous Alphas in the city.
When you finally unlocked the door to your apartment, the scent of home—vanilla air freshener and Nobara’s fruity shampoo—washed over you. It was grounding, free of the sharp edges of Alpha or Omega pheromones—a distinctly Beta kind of calm—but it also highlighted how alien you felt in your own body.
You had barely kicked off your heels when Nobara appeared in the doorway of the living room. Your roommate’s eyes went wide, scanning you from head to toe. Nobara was a whirlwind of energy, her brown bob bouncing as she practically vibrated in place.
"Oh my god," Nobara breathed, rushing forward. She grabbed your hands, then stopped, staring at the dark bruises visible on your collarbone above the neckline of the black dress. "You look... you look like you survived a natural disaster. A sexy, Alpha-shaped natural disaster."
You let out a breathy laugh, the tension in your shoulders finally releasing. "It was intense, Nobara. I don't even know where to start."
Nobara dragged you to the couch and pushed you down. "Start at the beginning. Don't you dare leave out a single detail. I want the dirty, the gross, the romantic—all of it."
You leaned back, closing your eyes. The memory of Toji’s hands, his voice, the sheer overwhelming size of him flooded back. You told Nobara everything—the way he’d dominated you, the filth he’d whispered in your ear, the way he’d knotted you until you couldn't think. You recounted the possessiveness, the terrifyingly delicious feeling of being completely at his mercy.
"And then," you said, your voice dropping to a hush, "he gave me this."
You pulled the business card from your pocket. Heavy, white—expensive stock, stamped with black lettering. Toji Fushiguro. Beneath it, his phone number. And scrawled underneath, in jagged, aggressive handwriting: Call me.
Nobara snatched the card from your hand, staring at it like it was a holy relic. "No way," she whispered. "Toji Fushiguro? The guy who supposedly has a waiting list six months long? The guy they say never repeats clients?" She looked up at you, her dark eyes sparkling. "Do you know what this means? Toji Fushiguro is off the market. I’m calling it right now. You broke him."
You laughed, but the sound was hollow. "I doubt that, Nobara. I really do."
"Why? He gave you his private number. He marked you up like a graffiti wall."
"I know, but..." you traced the seam of the couch, your brow furrowing. "His eyes, Nobara. When he was saying all those things... they were completely black. His pupils were fully dilated. He was overcome. It was the rut, the pheromones. He wasn't thinking with his brain; he was thinking with his knot."
Nobara waved a dismissive hand. "So? Men are idiots regardless of their biology. If he said it, he felt it."
"But what if it was just the heat of the moment?" your chest tightened. "Alphas in a rut are the biggest liars known to mankind. They’ll promise you the moon, a house, and a litter of pups just to get their rocks off. Post-nut clarity is a real thing, Nobara. He’s probably back to normal right now, wondering why the hell he gave me his number."
Nobara’s expression softened, the teasing edge fading. She sat back, tucking her legs under her. "Okay, hypothetical scenario. What if you’re pregnant?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, flat and soft under the black dress. A shiver went through you, not entirely unpleasant. The thought of a child... Toji’s child. It was terrifying, and yet, a dark, secret part of you thrilled at the idea.
"I don't know," you admitted. "I hope I’m not. Or maybe... maybe I do want to be? If I knew for a fact that he would choose me. If he would stay, provide for us, actually be a partner." You shook your head. "But that’s a fantasy. In the real world, I’m just a client he liked for a few hours. If I am pregnant, I’m on my own."
"Hey," Nobara said sharply, leaning forward to poke your arm. "You are never on your own. You’ve got me. And if that Alpha knock-up sticks and he tries to bail, I will personally hunt him down and castrate him with a rusty spoon."
You smiled, grateful for Nobara’s fierce loyalty. "Thanks, Nobara."
"Seriously though," Nobara continued, her tone shifting back to practicality. "Next time, you need to be careful. Those special contraception pills for Omegas? The ones that block conception even during peak heat? You need to get them."
"I know," you sighed. "They’re insanely expensive, though."
"So? We can afford it. We split rent on this amazing place, we eat too much takeout, and we look cute doing it. Skip a few nights out and buy the pills. Your dignity—and your uterus—will thank you."
You nodded. Nobara was right. You had been reckless, swept away by the tide of Toji’s dominance, but you couldn't live on luck forever. And you did have the money. That was why you’d gone to see him in the first place.
The next week passed in a blur of classes and restless sleep. You carried the business card with you everywhere, tucked into your wallet, your phone case, once even taped to the inside of your notebook. You stared at the number a hundred times a day, your thumb hovering over the call button.
The conflict was a war inside your head. Call him. No, don't look desperate. But what if he forgets you? What if he finds another Omega?
Being an Omega meant constantly battling a sense of biological desperation, a need to be claimed, to be held, to be filled. But you had always prided yourself on your dignity. You didn't want to be the sad little Omega chasing after an Alpha who had already moved on.
But as the days turned into two weeks, the silence from Toji became deafening. It was confirmation, wasn't it? If he wanted you, he would have called. He had your number; the clinic had records. The silence was an answer.
He doesn't want me.
The realization settled in your chest like a heavy stone. It had all been a bluff. A performance. The "weekly arrangement" had been just dirty talk to make the breeding hotter.
But what if he’s just waiting for me? a traitorous voice whispered. What if he thinks you’re not interested because you haven’t called?
That thought terrified you more than the rejection—the possibility that you were missing your chance because you were playing games.
Finally, the anxiety broke you. You sat on your bed, heart hammering, and dialed the number.
Ring... ring... ring...
Voicemail. A generic, robotic greeting.
You tried again an hour later. Nothing.
The next day, you called three times. Devastation began to curdle in your stomach, sour and cold. He wasn't picking up. He was ignoring you.
Nobara watched you with worried eyes as you moped around the apartment, staring at your phone. "Stop torturing yourself," she said gently. "If he wanted to talk, he would answer."
"I know," you whispered. "I just... I need to know."
Weeks passed. The initial high of the encounter had faded into a dull, aching memory. The marks on your neck had turned yellow and then faded away, leaving your skin pale and unblemished again. You felt unmarked, unseen.
And then, the heat returned.
It hit you on a random Wednesday night like a freight train. One minute you were fine, watching a movie with Nobara; the next, a cold sweat broke out across your forehead, and your legs turned to jelly. The cramps started low in your belly, sharp and demanding.
"Oh god," you gasped, doubling over. "Not now. Please, not now."
Nobara was at your side instantly. "Is it...?"
"Yes," you gritted out. Your skin felt too tight, your body burning up from the inside. The slick was already starting, a humiliating wetness between your thighs that signaled your readiness to breed. It was worse than before, a relentless, throbbing need that made you want to scream.
You stumbled to your bedroom, fumbling for your phone. Your vision swam. You needed relief. You needed a knot. You needed him.
You didn't care about dignity anymore. You didn't care about looking desperate. You were dying.
With shaking fingers, you typed out the text.
Heat. feel like dying. need you.
You hit send and collapsed onto the bed, panting. Minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow. Maybe he blocked you. Maybe he changed his number.
Then, the screen lit up.
Clinic. Now.
Two words. A command. No warmth, no concern, just an order. It made you whine, a high, needy sound that tore from your throat. It was exactly what you needed.
"I have to go," you gasped, grabbing your jacket.
Nobara jumped up from the couch. "Hey, where are you going? You can't go out there like this!"
"He replied," you murmured, your eyes unfocused, slipping into the black dress you’d walked out in last time. "The clinic. I have to go."
"Wait!" Nobara called, but you were already out the door.
The night air was an assault on your senses. The city smells—exhaust, garbage, stale perfume—were overwhelming. You needed to get a cab, but the thought of getting into a small, enclosed space with a stranger... especially an Alpha or Beta stranger... was terrifying. If they smelled you, in this state, there was no telling what would happen. The news was full of stories of Omegas in heat getting assaulted by cab drivers who couldn't control their instincts.
You couldn't risk it. You had to walk.
It was a mistake. Every step was a battle. Your body felt heavy, liquid heat pooling in your core and dripping down your legs. The streetlights blurred into streaks of neon. Your breath came in ragged gasps.
Focus. Just get to the clinic. Toji is there. Toji will fix it.
You turned a corner, your vision swimming dangerously. The pavement seemed to tilt. Your foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk, and you went down, knees hitting the concrete hard.
You didn't even have the strength to cry out. You just lay there, panting, waiting for the darkness to take you.
Suddenly, strong arms caught you before you hit the ground completely.
"Whoa, easy there."
The voice was deep, but not the gravelly rasp you were expecting. It was smoother, younger.
You were pulled upright against a firm chest. And then, the scent hit you.
It was different from Toji’s scent. This one was crisp, like rain and ozone, with an undercurrent of something earthy and grounding. It was an Alpha scent, potent and powerful, but it didn't smell like danger. It smelled... kind.
You inhaled deeply, your instincts screaming at you to rub yourself all over him. The scent wrapped around you like a protective blanket, cutting through the fog of your heat just enough to clear your vision.
"Careful," the voice said. "Are you okay?"
You looked up, blinking rapidly. Standing over you was a young man. He looked to be about your age, maybe a little younger. He had black spiky hair that fell over his forehead, and the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen—sharp, intelligent, and filled with concern.
He was beautiful. And weirdly, his face reminded you of Toji. The jawline was similar, the shape of the eyes, but this man’s features were softer, less hardened by life.
"You shouldn't... walk around by yourself like this," he said, his voice tight. "It's dangerous. You're in heat."
"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, trying to push yourself away. Your legs were trembling so badly you almost fell again. "I'm headed somewhere. I have to go."
You tried to step around him, but he reached out and grabbed your wrist. His grip was firm, hot, but not painful.
"Wait," he said.
You looked at him, and you saw it. The way his chest was heaving, the flush rising on his pale cheeks. He was affected. You didn't need to look down to know he was hard; you could smell the musk of his arousal mixing with the rain-scent of his pheromones. It was thick in the air between you.
But he wasn't attacking you. He was fighting it. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.
"Let me..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Let me help."
Before you could ask what, he meant, he stepped closer. He was tall, taller than he looked from a distance, and he loomed over you, triggering that submissive instinct deep in your Omega hindbrain. You froze, tilting your head back instinctively, baring your throat.
He let out a shaky breath and leaned in. He didn't touch you sexually. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
You gasped as you felt his nose brush against your scent gland. He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of your distress, your heat, your need. Then, he rubbed his own neck against yours.
It was a scent mark. He was covering you in his smell.
The sensation was electric. His pheromones rushed into your system, potent and authoritative. They didn't spark the frantic, destructive lust that Toji’s did. Instead, they acted like a stabilizer. The pain in your lower belly receded, just a fraction. The blinding fog in your brain lifted, giving you clarity you hadn't had in an hour.
He rubbed his cheek against yours, his skin slightly rough with stubble, marking your face. Then he took your wrist and pressed it against his neck, letting his scent saturate your pulse points.
"That should suffice," he murmured, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Until your next destination."
He pulled back, his eyes darkened but still under control. He looked at you, his expression a mix of guilt and determination.
"Go," he said, his voice rougher now. "Before I can't let you."
You stared at him, stunned. "Who are you?"
He didn't answer. He just turned and walked away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his stride tense and hurried.
You stood there for a moment, the night air feeling significantly less hostile. The stranger’s scent was all over you—rain and ozone. It acted as a shield, a warning to other Alphas to back off. More importantly, it had given you the strength to move.
Your legs still felt weak, but the crushing desperation had dulled to a manageable ache. You could think. You could walk.
You looked in the direction the young man had gone, but he was already gone, swallowed by the city shadows.
"Toji," you whispered, the name bringing the urgency rushing back.
You straightened your shoulders, clutching the stranger's scent around you like a cloak, and started moving again. The clinic was only a few blocks away. You could make it.
The walk was still a struggle, but it was no longer a suicide mission. The Alpha’s scent masked your own enough that the people you passed didn't give you a second glance. The predatory glances you’d been drawing from the shadows seemed to dissipate.
You reached the clinic, the glass doors glowing like a beacon. You stumbled inside, the cool air washing over you.
Shoko looked up, surprised to see you. "Miss? Are you—"
You didn't wait for the question. You saw the door to the back suites, the restricted area. You didn't have an appointment, but you had a command.
Clinic. Now.
You pushed past the reception desk, ignoring Shoko’s startled protests, and moved down the hallway. Your heart pounded in sync with the ache between your legs. He was in the same suite as before—just as he’d promised. You could feel him. The pull of the Alpha who had ruined you, who owned you—even if he refused to admit it.
You stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall. The scent was unmistakable—cedarwood and smoke, thick and aggressive. Toji.
You raised a trembling hand, but the door swung open before you could touch it.
He stood there, shirtless, sweat glistening on his massive chest, looking like he had just stepped out of a fight. His eyes were black, feral, locked onto you instantly.
He smelled the other Alpha on you immediately.
His lip curled, a low growl rumbling in his chest that shook the floorboards.
"You reek," he snarled, reaching out to grab your arm and yank you inside. "Who the fuck touched you?"
The door slammed shut behind you.
The accusation hung in the air, heavier than the humid, pheromone-charged atmosphere of the private suite. Toji didn’t wait for an answer; he inhaled deeply, his chest expanding. He was close—too close. The heat radiating from his bare chest scorched you through the thin fabric of your dress.
You gulped, your throat clicking audibly in the quiet room. The scent of the stranger—the young Alpha who had helped you on the street—still clung to your neck, a faint, woodsy overlay that was currently being drowned out by the overwhelming cedar and smoke musk rolling off Toji in waves. "It’s not what you think it is," you stammered, your voice breathless and thin.
Toji took a step back, the movement slow and deliberate, like a predator circling wounded prey. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, the muscles in his arm shifting under the pale skin. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating through the floorboards. "Not what I think it is? Interesting." He tilted his head, the scar at the corner of his mouth pulling tight as his smirk widened. "What do I think?"
Your breath hitched. You could see the ridge of his erection straining against the waistband of his sweatpants, thick and insistent. By the looks of things, he was deep in rut, his skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, his scent aggressive and potent. He hadn’t touched anyone in weeks—the deprivation was written in the tense set of his shoulders and the way his eyes roved over your body like he wanted to devour you whole.
You were still in heat, the cramps in your lower belly twisting tighter with every second you spent in his presence. Slick was soaking your thighs, a wet, unbearable ache that pulsed in time with your heartbeat. You craved him. You needed him to fuck you right now, to bury himself inside you until you couldn't remember your own name.
"You tell me, sassy Alpha," you shot back, the defiance wavering as another wave of heat rolled over you.
Toji’s eyes darkened further. "You’re rather confident today." He took a step forward, eliminating the distance he had just created. He loomed over you, his presence suffocating in the best possible way. "Part of me is thrilled to fuck the attitude out of you in a bit."
He leaned down, his face inches from yours, your noses almost brushing. The smell of him—mint, tobacco, and raw, unfiltered Alpha musk—flooded your senses. Your knees buckled slightly, your body betraying you instantly. Slick gushed out of your pussy, wet and hot, coating your folds and soaking your panties.
Toji’s nostrils flared. He smelled it. He smelled the desperation, the readiness. "Yeah, little Omega," he breathed, his voice dropping to a gravelly growl that vibrated against your lips. "Being fucked into submission is what you need, right?"
His breath fanned over your face, hot and minty, so distinctly Toji. One of his large hands slammed against the wall beside your head, caging you in. He didn't touch you yet, just let the threat of his body weight press down on you.
"The other part of me," he murmured, his eyes tracing the line of your throat, "thinks you deserve a little punishment."
Suddenly, his hand shot out. He didn't grab you gently; he gripped your upper arm with bruising force, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Before you could process the movement, he was hauling you across the room. The black dress you wore fluttered around your legs.
He sat on the edge of the massive bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and in one fluid motion, threw you over his lap. The world tilted. You gasped, your hands bracing against the plush bedding as your upper body hung down, your legs kicking slightly in the air. The dress rode up with the momentum, bunching around your waist and exposing the curve of your ass clad only in a flimsy pair of lace panties.
"Fuck, you’re so wet," Toji groaned from above you. His hand rested on the back of your thigh, dangerously close to your heat. "It’s really gushing out of you. I can smell it from here."
You whined, burying your face in the duvet. You could feel his bulge hardening beneath your stomach, a thick, rigid bar of heat that pressed against your abdomen. The friction was maddening. You ground your hips down instinctively, seeking relief, but Toji’s hand stilled you.
"Ah, ah," he tsked. "Not yet."
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanked them down to your knees in one rough tug. The cool air hit your wet, heated skin, making you shiver. You were exposed, vulnerable, your ass in the air, dripping and ready.
Then, his hand came down.
Smack.
The sound was sharp, a loud crack that echoed off the walls. The sting followed a split second later—a raw, biting heat that bloomed across your right cheek.
You cried out, the sound half-moan, half-surprise. It hurt, but the pain shot straight to your clit, sending a jolt of electric pleasure through your veins.
"Hmm," Toji hummed, his voice dark with satisfaction. He rubbed the reddening skin, his palm rough and calloused. "I think I should go harder."
Smack.
The second slap landed on your left cheek, harder than the first. You jerked forward, your fingers clawing at the sheets. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. Your body reacted traitorously, producing even more slick, the fluid running down your thighs and coating Toji’s pants.
The room began to reek of you—the sweet, tart scent of Omega in distress and arousal, mixed with the heavy, spicy musk of an Alpha in rut claiming his prize. It was a suffocating, intoxicating cloud.
Toji didn't stop. He spanked you again, and again, a rhythmic, punishing cadence that left you gasping for air. Between strikes, he would pause to knead your cheeks, his fingers dipping into the crease of your ass, teasing your dripping hole but never pushing inside.
"Now tell me," he commanded, his voice rough. His hand squeezed your tender flesh, making you hiss. "Was he aroused?"
You squeezed your eyes shut. Why did he have to ask that? The image of the stranger—the young Alpha with Toji’s eyes—flashed in your mind. You remembered the flushed look on his face, the heavy breathing, the way his hands had trembled when he scented you, the smell of his arousal.
"Y-yes," you whispered, the admission torn from your throat.
Smack.
This one was brutal. You screamed, your back arching as the pain seared through you.
"You let him get close to you when you smelled like this?" Toji growled, his hand massaging the burning skin, soothing the sting even as his words cut deep. "You let another Alpha smell what belongs to me?"
"He helped me," you sobbed into the blankets, your voice muffled. "I collapsed... he just helped me up."
"And marked you," Toji snarled. "I can smell him on your neck. It makes me want to kill something."
He hauled you up then, flipping you over onto your back on the bed before you could catch your breath. He loomed over you, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. The black dress was bunched around your ribs; your panties still tangled around one ankle. You looked wrecked—flushed, tear-stained, your lips swollen from biting them, your legs splayed open in invitation.
Toji didn't bother undressing you further. He just shoved his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, thick, angry, and weeping pre-cum. The sight of it made your mouth water.
"Legs up," he barked.
You scrambled to obey, hooking your hands behind your knees and pulling them back toward your chest, opening yourself completely to him. The position left you helpless, your pussy gaping and fluttering, clenching around nothing.
Toji leaned forward, bracing one hand next to your head. He guided his cock to your entrance, notching the thick head against your slick hole. He didn't push in immediately. He rubbed his length through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, mixing your scents together.
"Gonna fuck this attitude out of you," he grunted, staring down into your eyes. "Gonna stuff you so full you won't be able to walk straight. Gonna make sure every Alpha in a ten-mile radius knows who owns this pussy."
You whined, high and desperate. "Toji..."
He slammed in.
One deep, brutal thrust that buried him to the hilt. You cried out, your head falling back against the mattress as he stretched you wide, filling you more completely than anything else ever could. The burn was exquisite, a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure that shattered your thoughts into fragments.
Toji didn't wait for you to adjust. He set a punishing rhythm immediately, withdrawing almost all the way before slamming back in, his hips slapping against your ass with wet, obscene sounds. The bed frame rattled violently, banging against the wall with every thrust.
"Fuck," he gritted out, his jaw clenched. "I missed your pussy."
He leaned down, burying his face in your neck. He inhaled deeply, his nose brushing the sensitive skin where the stranger had marked you. He opened his mouth and bit down, hard, sinking his teeth into the mating gland. You shrieked, your inner walls clamping down on him like a vice.
"Mine," he growled against your skin, his tongue laving over the bite mark to soothe the sting. "Say it."
"Yours," you sobbed, your hands tangling in his hair, holding him to you. "I’m yours, Toji!"
He fucked you harder, driving into you with a ferocity that bordered on violence. He was determined to overwrite the other Alpha’s scent, rubbing his own scent glands all over you—your neck, your chest, your face. He marked you with his sweat, his saliva, his musk.
"My little Omega," he panted into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Taking this cock so good. You gonna let me breed you? Gonna let me put a pup in this belly?"
Your mind was a haze of pleasure. The thought of being pregnant by him, of carrying his offspring, sent a dark, primal thrill through you. You didn’t need contraception. To hell with everything Nobara had said.
You reached down between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. You rubbed it frantically, chasing the release that was building low in your spine.
"Yes," you chanted, your voice broken. "Breed me, please... fill me up!"
Toji snarled, his hips snapping faster. The bed groaned under the assault. He grabbed your legs, pushing them up higher, folding you nearly in half as he drove into you deeper than ever before. The angle hit a spot inside you that made you see stars.
"That’s it," he rasped. "Come for me, baby. Come on my cock like a good girl."
The command sent you over the edge. Your back bowed, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy convulsed around him, rippling and squeezing, trying to milk him for everything he had.
Toji groaned, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. He thrust into you a few more times, hard and deep, before burying himself to the hilt and stilling.
"Take it," he roared, his body locking up.
You felt the hot rush of his cum spurting inside you, coating your walls, filling you up. He kept coming, rope after rope of thick seed, and that was when the knot began to swell. The base of his cock expanded, stretching your entrance even further, locking you together.
The pressure was intense, a feeling of fullness so extreme it bordered on pain, but you reveled in it. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him close as he emptied himself into you. The room spun, the scent of your coupling overwhelming everything else.
You stayed like that for a long time, Toji’s weight heavy and comforting on top of you, his knot pulsing inside you, keeping his cum trapped deep within. Slowly, the ragged sound of your breathing began to even out.
Toji shifted, rolling you onto your sides so he wasn’t crushing you, being careful not to pull on the knot. He nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, tender kisses along the column of your throat. The aggression was gone, replaced by a strange, gentle intimacy that made your heart ache.
He brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, his calloused thumb tracing your cheekbone. His green eyes were soft, the darkness of the rut fading to reveal the man beneath.
"You okay?" he murmured, his voice husky.
You nodded, leaning into his touch. "Yeah."
He kissed you then, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of mint and desperation. It wasn't the rough, demanding kisses of before; it was searching, almost reverent. You melted into it, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart.
You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. The question that had been burning inside you for weeks bubbled to the surface, fueled by the vulnerability of the moment.
"Why didn’t you pick up?" you asked quietly. "I called you so many times."
Toji sighed, resting his forehead against yours. He closed his eyes, looking exhausted. "Family business," he admitted. "I didn’t work these last few weeks. Had to go back to the estate. It was... complicated."
You blinked. You hadn’t expected an honest response. You had expected a deflection, or a dismissal. "I see," you whispered.
Toji opened his eyes, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Scared I found another Omega?"
"Very," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.
Toji kissed your forehead, inhaling your scent. As he did, you felt his knot twitch inside you, releasing another small spurt of cum. The warmth spread through you, and you blushed, feeling the evidence of his possession deep in your belly.
"I’ve thought about you nonstop these last few weeks," he murmured, his eyes closing again as he pressed his forehead harder against yours. His hand came up to brush your cheek, his touch feather-light. "Driving me fucking crazy."
"Me too," you said, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.
"That’s why you reeked of another Alpha," he said, a low rumble of laughter vibrating in his chest. "Couldn't wait for me, huh?"
"That’s why fucking other Omegas is your job," you shot back, your tone suddenly serious. The jealousy you had been suppressing flared up hot and bright. "I’m not the only one you’re thinking about, Toji."
Toji looked at you, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise. He studied your face for a moment, as if seeing you in a new light.
"It pisses you off," he stated, a realization rather than a question.
"Of course it does," you snapped. "You’re inside me, tied to me, and I know you’re doing this with half the city."
Toji chuckled, the sound dark and arrogant. "Sorry, everybody wants a piece of this cake."
You shoved at his chest, trying to put distance between you, but the knot held you fast. "I want you to quit."
The words hung in the air, shocking in their clarity. You shouldn’t have said it. You knew you shouldn’t have. Toji hadn’t mated you yet. You weren’t officially matched. You had no claim to him. But the heat had loosened your tongue, and the heartache had sharpened your tongue.
Toji’s smile faded. He looked at you, his green eyes unreadable. "I-," he started, his voice low. "I want you to be my special Omega. You know that. You’re different."
He paused, his hand stroking your hip. "But I don’t think I can settle down like this. Not yet."
The rejection hit you like a bucket of ice water. Special Omega. Just a favorite toy. Not a mate. Not a partner.
You started to push him away, panic rising in your chest. You needed to get away from him, away from this room, away from the scent of him that was currently suffocating you.
"Release your knot," you demanded, your voice trembling.
"What?" Toji frowned, confused by the sudden shift in your demeanor.
"No way I am getting knocked up by an indecisive man," you said, your voice gaining strength as anger overtook the hurt. "I want you to pull out. Now."
Toji’s expression hardened, his jaw ticking. He was visibly annoyed, his Alpha instincts bristling at being denied during the tie. But he looked at your face, saw the tears welling in your eyes and the stubborn set of your chin, and he sighed.
"Fine," he gritted out. "If that’s what you want."
He closed his eyes, focusing. You felt his muscles tense beneath your hands. It took a moment of concentration, but slowly, the swelling at the base of his cock began to decrease. The pressure lessened, the stretching sensation receding until, with a wet, obscene sound, he slipped out of you.
A rush of fluids followed—his cum, your slick—spilling out onto the sheets beneath you.
You didn’t wait. You scrambled away from him, the sudden emptiness inside you aching. You slid off the bed, your legs shaky and weak. You grabbed the black dress from the floor where it had been discarded, no longer caring about whether it needed to be returned or if it was ruined. You pulled it on over your head, covering your naked, sticky skin.
"Hey, listen, don’t be like that," Toji started, sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "I’m just being realistic. We come from different worlds."
"I’m leaving," you muttered, clutching the dress to your chest. You held back tears, refusing to let him see you cry.
Toji got up, moving faster than you expected. He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not bruising. "Stop. Let’s talk about this."
"No," you said, not turning back. You stared at the door, the exit sign glowing red above it. "Goodbye."
You yanked your wrist free and walked out, leaving him standing there naked and half-hard in the middle of the room.
The hallway was quiet, the air cool and sterile—a sharp contrast to the heavy heat of the suite. Your heels clicked against the polished marble as you moved quickly past the reception desk, where Shoko was busy sorting through files.
Shoko looked up, her eyes widening as she took in your disheveled appearance—the wrinkled dress, the flushed skin, the distinct smell of Alpha rut and sex clinging to you like a second skin.
"Miss? Is everything alright? Do you need an—"
You didn’t acknowledge her. You kept walking, pushing through the glass front doors and out into the cool night air.
The night swallowed you whole, cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos still clawing at your senses. Each step carried you farther from the clinic, from him—but the pull hadn’t faded. It lingered, threaded through your veins, impossible to outrun.
You told yourself it was over. You clung to that certainty, let it settle into your bones like something solid, something final.
But your body betrayed you.
The memory of him, the mark he left, the way he had claimed you without ever saying the words—it all clung just as stubbornly as his scent. A reminder. A warning. A tether.
You tightened your arms around yourself as you disappeared into the empty street, your footsteps echoing into the dark.
“I'm gonna pick up some condoms.” You balance the phone on your shoulder, pushing the cart through the aisles towards the Health and Beauty section.
Sylus’s laugh comes through the speaker, rich and amused. Already, he's getting on your nerves.
“Not necessary. We don't use those, remember?"
"We have to start using condoms." You sigh, turning the cart into the aisle. There's a daunting amount, but you begin to look through them anyways.
"I don't fit in condoms." Says the man you're sure has never worn a condom in his life.
"Your dick is not that big."
"That's not what you said last night."
"I hate you."
He laughs loudly as you pick up the extra large box, scanning the words on it. It seems like it would fit Sylus, but contary to what you just said, his dick really is that big.
"You're sure you don't know your size?" You sigh into the phone, picking up another box and comparing it to the one in your hand. Surely the ribbed ones don't actually feel better for you, right?
"Not a clue. I suppose that means we can't use them?" He sounds annoyingly excited, and you nearly roll your eyes into your head.
"No, it means we're not having sex until we find some that fit your stupid monster cock." You find a box marked XXL and shrug, tossing it into the cart.
"Okay, I got them. If these don't fit...well, I'm sure they sell condoms for horses around here."
mdni- Law professor! Higuruma x law student! reader
Your law professor Hiromi Higuruma is exhausted, he'd asked you to come for a meeting to discuss your upcoming internship with him - you were a top law student, after all, but he had no damn sleep and his coffee is too weak. He's eased back with his dark eyes shut, hands over his face, trying to wake himself up enough to see you.
It's hard to see you too, hard to even look at you, how fucking pretty you are makes his job difficult to say the least. You're a good twelve years younger, not that its' that much of an issue, the problem is you're his student.
He certainly can't cross that line, and he certainly can't jerk off every time he sees your thighs in your little pencil skirts, all professional and smiling as you bring him breakfast, lunch, fuck you're always bending over to give him something - and making him feel like a fucking depraved pervert. He tries not to think of you when he jerks his cock at night, but you flit through his mind.
How he'd fuck you right here on this desk, pump all his cum inside your pretty cunt. How he'd eat your surely cute little cunt, have your squirt all down his dress shirt, his tie, every inch covered in you. Fuck he'd bathe in it if he could.
Even now just thinking of seeing you has his cock throbbing, he's so tired he can't stop it like he usually can, jumping up when you walk in, clearing his throat and quickly sitting up, praying you don't get close enough to see the tent in his slacks. You smile all pretty, today your blouse is unbuttoned too much, hints of your tits peeking out as if to taunt him.
"Mr. Hiromi," you say softly, shutting the door behind you and holding two cups precariously. "I got your favorite espresso."
"Oh fuck I love you," you giggle when he panics, tired eyes lidded as they gaze down at your lips.
How would they wrap his cock?
"I mean..." He starts stammering just a bit, but you smile.
"I will take that," you tease, handing it to him, your fingertips brushing together when he takes it. You feel that heat shoot down into your tummy, a gnawing ache that's just constantly there for your professor -months of having to watch him lecture, watch him in court, your vibrator hates to see you coming after days you join him and watch him argue.
When he gets angry? Fuck.
He seems so calm but it's just brimming underneath the surface, he takes a sip and moans. "God that's good, so much better than the shitty coffee here."
"I figured so," you sip your own drink - much more foamy and sweet, handing him the documents he asked for. "Here you go."
"They can wait," he tosses them to the side now, sighing and leaning back in his chair. "It's the weekend, don't you have some party to go to or something? A date?"
"Nah I was just gonna watch Bridgerton and cuddle on the couch," you sit on his desk, crossing your legs, his gaze darts to them, fingers damn near twitching with how badly he wants to grip them.
"You're twenty three, shouldn't you be having fun?"
"As if you're so old," you tease, uncrossing them and swinging your ankles around just a bit. "But no, not my thing."
"I see," he tilts his head and leans close. "What season are you on?"
"You do not watch it!"
"Who says I don't," you're giggling all cute, ruining his muddled mind even further. "Okay I don't but I have heard of it."
"It's really good! You probably just rewatch Lincoln Lawyer on repeat."
"Tch," you're giggling again and drinking your cup. "You're right."
"Called it!" You hop down and nearly trip, he catches you buy your hips quickly, the coffee precariously falling but you some how catch it with both hands. "Oh I'm so sorry."
He says nothing, not when your tits are right in his face, and he can feel the curve of your waist, he hardly holds back a gutteral moan, not letting go. You set the coffee down with a shaky hand, heart hammering in your chest, stepping between his spread thighs now.
"Are you all right, Sir?"
"Don't fuckin' call me that," he rests his head on your waist now, exhaling and tugging you closer, nuzzling the little buttons of your bodice when your hand brushes back his messy dark locks. "You really should go."
"Oh? Why's that?" he chuckles just a bit, looking up at you underneath those lidded eyes, black from his pupils being blown out.
"If you stay I'll put a fucking baby inside you, how do you think your law career will be then?" You suck in a breath, thighs pressing together, filthy images fill his mind - pumping so many loads of cum in your cunt you can't walk without them dripping down your legs. "Go."
Your answer is to sink to your knees, he barely holds himself back when your fingers undo his zipper. "I don't want a baby yet but you can certainly say you wanna, you can cum inside me."
"God," he's hissing when you pull out his cock, the tip already leaking all that white he wants inside you. He holds your hair in a ponytail when you're flicking your tongue on his tip. "I won't give you special treatment in class, but I will fill you with all the cum you want."
"Mmm," you take him in your mouth now, sucking and watching him with your pretty eyes, he tugs your hair into a better ponytail, watching as you glide your throat down him. You're touching your clit over your panties as he starts to get mean with it, desperately rutting his hips up, hardly able to keep quiet.
"F-fuck, your slutty throat is that good? Sweetheart," he's mumbling now, your drool is spilling down his balls, tight and heavy, your nose brushing that dark pubic hair as you gag and choke on it. "Touching yourself? No."
He yanks your fingers off, you pull back with a wet pop, lips dripping with saliva and pre. "I need to cum, please Sir."
"You're asking for it," he grumbles - every time you call him that more pre spurts from his red, swollen tip, sucking you off your fingers, you gasp at the action, just to get tugged up by your hair to stand. "Turn around and lift your skirt f'me, hmm?"
This isn't meticulous, exhausted law professor Hiromi, this is dominant, commanding Hiromi with his big cock leaking, you eagerly obey and he sighs, sinking to his knees as you tug that skirt over the curve of your ass. He buries his face against your cunt, panties on and all, soaking wet already.
"You're already this wet? From sucking me?" Your answer is a muffled whine, trying not to let the entire college know that Hiromi is about to bury that long nose inside your cunt. "Prop that leg up - atta girl, there you go. Good job."
"F-fuck," you're clinging to his desk when he tugs your panties to the side, tongue lapping a fat stripe from your clit to your ass, slipping down to fuck into your quivering hole.
God you taste good - he can't get enough of it, the slick coating his tongue and lips, dripping down his chin. He parts your swollen folds to look at it winking right at him, cunt just gushing arousal in clear little drips that leak down your thighs. He licks it up greedy as it spills, and you're arching, begging for him.
"Please, inside," you're barely able to form a word when he nudges your twitchy clit with his nose, his papers just fucking scattering as you start clinging to the desk. "Mnh, please!"
"Shh, I'll give it to you," he leans up, turning your face to his - he's a gentleman and he hasn't kissed you yet, that just won't do. "Open."
You eagerly do what he asks, cock slapping against your ass with a loud thwack, your tongue out, he spits your juices right on it, closing your mouth and urging you to swallow, tip nudging that messy cunt, pressing in, she's so wet she's soaking his cock, dripping down onto the polished hardwood underneath.
He sinks his cock deep inside your walls, your head falls back, ragged little breaths escaping as your tongues swirl all messy, one of his hands tugging your thigh up even higher, bottoming out in one stroke. You can hardly take just how girthy his cock is, the tip kissing your cute cervix as he lets you adjust for just a moment.
"Feel better than I even imagined," you blush now - how cute you blush with cock inside you, walls quivering around him, his spit down your throat, when the door knocks and you tense up Hiromi just slams inside you harder.
"Ah!"
"Shh darling," he covers your mouth with his hand, fucking inside of you deeper, the wet squelch just echoing in his office. "Yes?"
"I need to talk about class tomorrow," it's professor Nanami, as soon as he talks your cunt pulses, Hiromi gets unreasonably jealous, his other hand toying with your twitchy clit.
"You're getting that wet from him?" You shake your head, but Nanami talks again and you're soaking his cock as it shoves fully in, balls smacking as he moves, the wet sounds obscene. "I don't share."
"Hiromi?" Nanami asks, his lips are on your ear as he lets your mouth go and you bite on your lip.
"Want him to know you're getting bred by your professor, pretty girl?" You do in fact, filthy thoughts are racing of fucking both your professors, though Hiromi is pounding your cunt so good you don't think you could handle more, his finger roughly pressing patterns on your clit faster. "Go ahead, cum."
"C-can't, psycho," you glare and Hiromi just smirks all tired, wrapping an arm around you to drag your messy hole right down him. "Mnh!"
"Is everything all right in there?"
"It's fine Nanamin, I'm just... wanting a nap, you know? Can I come see you in a f-fuck..." You're clenching too tight, he almost can't take it, cunt milking him for all he's worth. "In a few?"
"Always fucking napping and shit," Nanami sighs and stomps off, just in time for Higuruma's curved cock head to nudge your spot, you spasm and gasp out, barely able to cover your mouth in time, cunt squirting all down your thighs as your orgasm hits.
"Oh fuck, and you're a messy little law student, huh?" He's fucking you harder, pressing your back down so you arch even more, his fingers slipping inside your mouth. "Squirting just for me?"
"Mhm," you're nodding, letting him pin you down, your face next to those law books as he fucks you through it and into another orgasm, Hiromi's pinning your wrists down behind your back, moving harder, until you can't see.
No amount of masturbation prepared him for your needy, messy hole, nor how pliant and eager you are, letting him use your body however he wants. He hovers over you, lips brushing your temple tenderly as he moves his hips so goddamn mean. "I'll w-watch Bridgerton with you if you let me fill your cunt up."
You barely manage a laugh, turning your head as he lifts it by your hair and kisses you. "All seasons?"
"God anything, j-just wanna fill her up so full," you nod and Hiromi busts as if on cue, his messy white ropes all puffy and sticky in your slick walls, he's moaning desperately not even trying to be quiet. "Fuckin' taking all of it, want your cunt bred by me, hmm?"
You didn't think Hiromi would be filthy.
You didn't think he'd spit in your mouth, tell you he was gonna breed you or finger his cum back inside you. And you absolutely didn't think he'd actually come watch Bridgerton with you in your little off campus apartment, but he does. Though you're cockwarming him and he's torturing you, not letting you move.
Maybe Hiromi Higuruma is just a little sadistic.
****
that episode has me unwell
tagging my bbs @cupidstrace @kamiflix @uhnosav hehe
mdni Little Red x Werewolf!Toji
18+ It's the full moon, you know what that means
CONTENT. He's going through his moon phase, werewolf transformation if you squint, mention's of blood, his claws come out, spit, cervix kissed, making it fit, knotting, breeding, creampied.
W/C. 7.7k
A/N. imma start on a masterlist for ts, & a taglist y'all lmk.
The cabin always felt smaller when the days grew shorter and the nights stretched long—wood creaking under the weight of autumn wind, fire popping low in the hearth like it knew something you didn’t. You’d been living in Toji’s orbit for weeks now, soft edges of your old life blurring until the only sharp thing left was the way his heartbeat felt against your back when he held you.
Tonight you were curled in the middle of his big bed, drowning in one of his old shirts. The black cotton used to hug his shoulders and chest like a second skin; on you it hung loose and long, sleeves swallowing your hands, hem brushing mid-thigh like a too-big dress. No panties underneath—just bare skin against the worn sheets that still smelled faintly of pine and him.
You were knitting.
Something big. Fluffy. Probably ridiculous.
Thick gray wool looped around your needles in slow, rhythmic clicks—maybe a scarf, maybe a blanket, maybe just an excuse to keep your hands busy while he watched you from the doorway with that quiet, predatory patience. The yarn was the color of storm clouds, soft enough to bury your face in. You’d started it for him—said it would look good wrapped around his thick neck on cold hunts—but really it was just another way to mark his space with pieces of you.
Toji padded over barefoot—silent as always—tail swaying lazy behind him. He slid onto the bed without a word, big body curling around yours from behind like he was made to fit there. Chest to your back. One massive arm slung over your waist. The other hand slipped under the hem of his shirt to cradle your bare belly—warm palm flat against your skin, fingers splayed wide like he was anchoring you to him.
His nose pressed into the crook of your neck—deep inhale—then a slow exhale that sent goosebumps racing down your arms. He smelled like woodsmoke and earth and that faint metallic edge that always clung to him after a hunt.
You kept knitting. Click. Loop. Click.
He stayed quiet for a long time—just breathing you in, tail curling once around your calf like a possessive vine.
Then—soft, almost reluctant—his voice rumbled against your skin.
“Full moon’s in two days, doll.”
You paused mid-stitch.
He tightened his hold—just a fraction—big hand flexing against your stomach.
“You should probably head back to town. Back to Granny’s.”
The needles stilled completely.
You turned your head just enough to catch the edge of his profile—sharp jaw, green eyes half-lidded, ears twitching forward like he was listening for your heartbeat to change.
You pouted—bottom lip pushing out in that way you knew drove him quietly insane.
He sighed—long, suffering—like he’d expected it.
“I’m serious, red.”
His lips brushed the shell of your ear—warm, deliberate.
“I get… dangerous when the moon calls. More than usual.”
You twisted in his arms—enough to face him properly—knees bumping his thigh, the oversized shirt riding up to bare the tops of your thighs. His hand stayed on your belly, thumb stroking slow arcs over the soft skin there.
“As if a bigger, hairier version of you would scare me,” you murmured—half teasing, half earnest—reaching up to trace the scar that ran along his cheekbone.
His eyes darkened—not angry. Something deeper. Hungrier.
“It ain’t just that.”
Voice dropped lower—rougher—like gravel dragged over velvet.
“It’s blood thirst, doll. Instincts take over. Reason goes quiet. I used to lock myself up—chains in the cellar, iron bars, whatever it took. Kept everyone safe. Kept myself from doin’ somethin’ I couldn’t come back from.”
He leaned in—forehead pressing to yours—breath mingling.
“I don’t wanna hurt you. Not ever. Not even a scratch.”
You opened your mouth—ready to argue, to promise you could handle it, that you’d stay right here in his bed and let him snarl and claw and claim until the moon passed—but he didn’t give you the chance.
He kissed you.
Hard.
Hand sliding up to cup the back of your head—fingers threading through your hair—tilting you just right so he could devour your mouth like he was trying to swallow every word before it could form. Tongue sweeping in deep—claiming—tasting the faint sweetness of the tea you’d been sipping earlier. He groaned into it—low, wrecked—tail lashing once behind him.
When he finally pulled back—both of you breathing ragged—his thumb dragged slow over your swollen bottom lip.
“Shut that pretty little mouth,” he murmured—voice hoarse, eyes blown dark. “Before you talk yourself into stayin’ and I let you.”
You stared up at him—cheeks flushed, lips tingling, heart hammering against your ribs.
His hand slid back down—under the shirt again—cupping your bare pussy now. Not moving. Just holding. Warm palm blanketing your mound like a promise and a warning all at once.
“Two days,” he repeated—quieter this time—almost pleading. “Go back to Granny’s. Let me ride it out alone like I always have.”
His thumb brushed once—light—over your clit.
Then he kissed you again—slower this time. Softer. Lingering.
Like he was memorizing the taste of you before the moon came and tried to take it away.
You melted against him—needles forgotten on the sheets—small hands fisting in his hair, body arching into his hold.
He growled—soft—against your lips.
“Don’t make this harder than it already is, red.”
But the way he held you—tight, possessive, nose buried in your neck again—said he was already losing the fight.
And you both knew:
Two days wasn’t long enough to convince you to leave.
Not when his big hands felt this safe.
Not when the full moon was calling—and you wanted to answer it with him.
The knitting needles lay abandoned on the bedside table—gray wool half-looped, unfinished scarf dangling like a promise you weren’t sure you’d get to keep. Your little wicker basket sat by the door now, packed with the few things you’d brought: a spare dress, the last of Granny’s honey cakes, and the faint scent of midnight berries still clinging to the lining like a secret. You’d slipped back into your red hood and cloak that morning—fabric soft from too many washes, hem brushing your calves like it used to before you ever wandered this deep into the woods.
Toji stood by the open door—broad shoulders filling the frame, arms crossed tight over his chest like he was holding himself together. His tail hung low—still, almost mournful—ears pinned back. He hadn’t said much since dawn. Just watched you move around the cabin with those sharp green eyes, tracking every small motion like he was memorizing you.
Last night had been different.
You’d crawled into his lap after the fire died low—bare under his big shirt again—straddling his thighs, small hands tugging at the waistband of his shorts. You’d whispered please, Toji, just want you in me, please—voice soft and needy and a little desperate because you knew tomorrow you’d have to leave.
He hadn’t fucked you.
Not the way you expected.
No pounding. No feral growls. No knot forcing its way in until you sobbed.
Instead he’d lifted you—slow, careful—guiding you down onto his thick cock inch by inch until you were seated fully, stretched and full and trembling. Then he just… held you.
Big arms wrapped around your back. One hand cradling the nape of your neck. The other splayed wide over your lower spine—keeping you flush against his chest. He rocked you gently—tiny, shallow movements that made his cock nudge deep inside without ever pulling out far. His nose buried in your hair. Breath hot against your scalp. Low rumbles vibrating through his chest into yours.
“If you want me in you,” he’d murmured against your temple—voice rough, strained—“you’re doin’ it on my terms tonight, doll. No rushin’. No ruinin’. Just… feel me.”
You’d cried then—quiet, overwhelmed tears soaking into his shirt—hips rolling slow in helpless little circles because it felt too good, too safe, too much like goodbye. He’d kissed the top of your head. Licked the salt from your cheek. Held you tighter when your walls fluttered around him in soft, aching waves.
He hadn’t come.
Just stayed buried deep—hard and throbbing—until you finally drifted off in his arms, still impaled, still full of him.
Now morning light cut sharp across the threshold.
You stood in the doorway—basket hooked over your arm, red hood pulled up—but you weren’t moving.
Toji looked down at you—jaw tight, eyes dark with something raw and unnameable.
“Go on, red,” he said—quiet. “Sun’s up. Path’s clear.”
You shook your head—small, stubborn—tears already welling fast.
“I—I forgot something inside,” you blurted—voice cracking—taking one step back toward the cabin like you could rewind the morning.
Toji’s hand shot out—big palm wrapping gentle but firm around your wrist—stopping you cold.
He tugged you back—slow—until you were pressed against his chest again. Your basket bumped his thigh. Hood slipped back, exposing your face to the cool air and his gaze.
“You know there’s nothin’ in there, doll,” he murmured—low, almost broken—thumb brushing the tears that spilled over your lashes. “You’re stallin’. And I’m lettin’ you. But you gotta go.”
You clutched his shirt—fingers twisting in the fabric—tears falling faster now.
“Don’t want to,” you whispered—voice small, wrecked. “Don’t want to leave you alone with it. The moon. The thirst. What if—”
He cut you off with a kiss—soft. Slow. Lingering. Tasting like salt and pine and everything you were about to walk away from.
When he pulled back his forehead rested against yours—eyes closed, breathing ragged.
“I’ve done it alone for years,” he said—voice gravel-rough. “Locked up. Chained. Survived every full moon without tearin’ anyone apart. I can do one more.”
His hand slid to your cheek—cupping it—thumb stroking slow.
“But I can’t do it if I know you’re here. If I smell you. If I hear you. Instinct’ll win, red. And I won’t risk hurtin’ you. Not you.”
You sobbed—quiet, hiccuping—pressing your face into his chest.
He held you tighter—arms wrapping around your shoulders, chin resting on top of your head. Tail curled once around your leg—like even now he couldn’t quite let go.
“Two nights,” he whispered into your hair. “Maybe three. Then I’ll come find you. Bring you back here. Finish that stupid fluffy thing you’re knittin’ me. Wrap you up in it. Knot you slow like last night until you forget what the moon even is.”
You nodded against him—tears soaking his shirt—clinging like you could imprint yourself into his skin.
He kissed your forehead—long, lingering—then gently pried your fingers from his shirt.
“Path’s that way,” he said—voice thick—nodding toward the woods. “Go straight to Granny’s. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”
You took one step—then another—basket swinging heavy on your arm.
At the edge of the clearing you turned—red cloak catching the wind—eyes glassy and pleading.
Toji hadn’t moved.
Still framed in the doorway—big and solid and heartbreakingly still.
He lifted one hand—slow—pressing two fingers to his lips, then to his heart.
A silent promise.
You mirrored it—small hand trembling—then turned and walked into the trees.
The cabin door clicked shut behind him—soft, final.
But you both knew:
The moon would rise.
The wolf would howl.
And when it passed—he’d come for you.
Tail wagging.
Arms open.
Ready to hold you on his terms again.
A day and a half without him stretched into something hollow and aching. Granny’s little house smelled of cinnamon and dried lavender, the same comforting scents that used to wrap around you like a blanket when you were small, but now they felt wrong, thin, missing the sharp pine and warm musk that clung to Toji’s skin. Granny had opened the door with her arms wide and her eyes bright, pulling you into a hug that smelled of flour and old wool. She had fussed over you, pressed a mug of chamomile into your hands, asked about the woods and the berries and the wolf in a voice too knowing for comfort. You had answered in short sentences, eyes fixed on the floorboards, and she had watched you with that quiet, shrewd gaze that saw everything you tried to hide. She knew you were unhappy. She knew exactly why.
That big stupid wolf, she had said while stirring a pot of stew later that afternoon. A little full moon never hurt anyone. He’s just being a big idiot, thinking he can’t control himself around you. Her words had landed soft but sharp, poking at the sore spot in your chest until it bled fresh determination. You had sat there picking at bread crusts while she hummed and pretended not to notice the way your fingers trembled. She had not told you to go. She had not needed to. When you rose to pack your basket again she had simply turned to the shelf, plucked a small glass vial filled with dark liquid, and tucked it beside the last of the honey cakes without a word. Midnight berry extract, distilled into a fine mist. She had known you would come back for him. Granny always planned ahead.
You reached the cottage just before the sun bled out behind the trees. The sky was already bruising purple, the first stars pricking through like tiny warnings. You tiptoed around the side of the cabin, heart hammering loud enough to drown out the crickets. Claw marks scored the outer wall in long, furious gouges, fresh enough that splinters still clung to the edges. Dark tufts of fur snagged on the rough bark, thicker and coarser than the hair that dusted his arms when he held you. The door stood ajar as always. He never locked the damn thing. You slipped inside on silent feet, basket clutched to your chest like a shield, telling yourself you were only checking to make sure he was safe, that you would leave again if he snarled at you to go.
The living room smelled of iron and sweat and something wilder, something barely leashed. Chains lay coiled on the floorboards near the hearth, heavy iron links glinting in the dying firelight. They were still loose, still untouched. Your stomach dropped. If the chains were ready but not fastened around his wrists, that meant he had not had time. That meant the moon was already winning.
You crept toward the bedroom doorway. The big bed loomed in the shadows, furs thrown back, sheets twisted. Moonlight poured through the cracked window in cold silver sheets, painting everything stark and unreal. You stood at the foot of the mattress, breath shallow, fingers tightening around the basket strap. At least the chains were here. At least he had tried.
Then his shadow fell over you.
Heavy. Massive. Blocking the moonlight entirely.
You did not hear him move. One heartbeat the room was empty, the next he was there, towering behind you, heat rolling off him in waves. His breath stirred the fine hairs at the nape of your neck. His voice came out darker than you had ever heard it, rougher, layered with a growl that vibrated straight through your bones.
“Red. I scented you. Thought I was crazy.”
He stepped closer. The floorboards groaned under his weight. You squeaked, small and trapped, the sound of a mouse cornered by something far too large to fight.
“You shouldn’t be here, doll. Not now.”
The moon glared brighter behind him through the open window, full and fat and merciless. He reached past you and slammed the door shut with enough force to rattle the frame. The sound echoed like a gunshot. No more time. No chance to chain himself. The transformation was already rolling through him, thickening his shoulders, lengthening his canines, darkening the hair that spread across his chest and arms in coarse waves.
You fumbled for the basket, fingers shaking as you dug for the spray bottle. It felt stupid now, tiny and fragile in your palm, but it was all you had. The glass caught a sliver of moonlight and glinted. You raised it, thumb hovering over the nozzle.
He moved faster than you could track. One clawed hand closed around your wrist, stopping the motion mid-air. The other arm banded around your waist and yanked you back against his chest. His body was hotter than it should have been, muscles shifting and swelling under the skin, fur sprouting in thick patches along his forearms. He pressed his nose to your neck and inhaled deep, a low rumble building in his throat when he caught the sharp spike of your fear and the sweeter, heavier scent of your arousal blooming beneath it. Your cunt was already soaked, slick dripping down your inner thighs, betraying you completely.
“What’cha lookin’ in there for, red?”
His voice was gravel dragged over iron, deeper, slower, every word laced with the moon’s pull. You whimpered. Before you could depress the nozzle he plucked the bottle from your fingers with careful, deliberate strength. He held it up, studying the dark liquid inside, then closed his fist around it. Glass shattered with a soft crack. The hazy, syrupy scent of midnight berries exploded into the air, thick and cloying, wrapping around both of you like smoke.
His nostrils flared. The tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction. The feral edge in his eyes softened, pupils blown wide but still recognizably him beneath the beast. He dropped the broken shards to the floor without looking. Then he lifted you—effortless, claws pricking through the red fabric of your cloak but never breaking skin—and tossed you onto the bed.
You landed on your back among the furs, breath punched out of you, basket tumbling to the side. He followed, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of your hips, looming over you like a storm cloud ready to break. His hands—half paw now, claws curved and black—planted beside your head. Fur covered his chest in a thick pelt, trailing down his abdomen, disappearing beneath the torn remnants of his shorts. His cock strained against the fabric, thicker than before, knot already swelling at the base.
He leaned down until his nose brushed yours, breath hot and ragged against your lips.
“You came back,” he growled, voice still his but threaded with something ancient and hungry. “Knew you would. Knew you couldn’t stay away.”
His claws dragged slow down the front of your cloak, slicing the ties without cutting skin. The red fabric parted like water. He inhaled again, deeper, and a shudder rolled through his entire frame.
“Smell so fuckin’ good. Scared. Wet. Mine.”
He lowered his head to your throat, tongue dragging flat over the pulse point where his old bite still bloomed purple. A soft, broken whine slipped from your lips. His hips rocked once, grinding the heavy length of him against your soaked cunt through the thin barrier of your dress.
“Should’ve chained myself,” he murmured against your skin, almost regretful. “But you’re here now. And the moon wants you. I want you.”
His claws hooked under the hem of your dress and tore upward in one smooth motion. Cool air kissed your bare skin. He settled between your thighs, furred chest brushing your nipples, making them pebble instantly. His eyes locked on yours—still green, still Toji, even as the beast stared out from behind them.
“Gonna take you slow,” he rasped. “Gonna knot you deep. Gonna keep you safe under me until the moon lets go.”
One clawed hand slid between your legs, parting your folds with surprising gentleness. Slick coated his fingers immediately. He groaned, low and wrecked.
“Already drippin’ for the monster. Good girl.”
Fear coiled tight in your chest like a living thing, cold and sharp, stealing the breath from your lungs even as your body betrayed you with fresh waves of heat. Toji loomed above you, still recognizably him beneath the thickening pelt and the elongated canines that flashed in the moonlight, still those same green eyes staring down at you with a feral glaze that fought to stay focused, to stay gentle. He was trying. You could see the strain in the way his shoulders trembled, the way his claws flexed and unflexed against the furs instead of tearing into you outright. The full moon had sunk its teeth into him, but he clung to the fraying thread of himself for your sake, growling low in his throat every time your scent spiked sharper in the air.
Your cunt was soaked, utterly drenched, the slick scent rolling off you in thick, syrupy waves that filled the small bedroom until it was impossible for him to think of anything else. The midnight berry haze still lingered too, softening the edges of his rage, dulling the bloodlust just enough that he could remember your name, could remember that you were his red, his mate, not prey to be ripped apart. He dropped his head to your throat again, tongue lapping broad and wet over the old bite mark, tasting the salt of your fear and the sweetness underneath. A shudder ripped through his frame. He needed to breed you. Needed to stuff you full until every inch of you carried his scent, his seed, his claim. Thank whatever dark thing had guided you back through the woods tonight, because the danger was real, the risk bone-deep, but he could hold himself back for you. He had to.
He tore the last scraps of your dress away with careful precision, claws slicing fabric but never skin, until you lay bare beneath him, skin flushed and trembling in the silver light. Then he descended. Slobbering, messy, unrestrained. His tongue dragged over every inch he could reach, hot and rough, painting stripes across your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, circling each nipple until they pebbled tight and aching under his attention. He sucked one into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch and whimper, then moved lower, nosing along the soft curve of your belly, inhaling the musk of your arousal like it was the only air he needed.
When he reached your thighs he bit. Not gentle. Sharp canines sank into the plush inner flesh, drawing scarlet beads of blood that welled bright against your skin. You cried out, squirming in his grip, but his claws sank deeper into your hips to hold you still, anchoring you exactly where he wanted you. The pain flared hot and bright, then melted into something darker, sweeter, when his tongue followed the bite, lapping up every crimson drop with slow, reverent strokes. He growled against your thigh, the vibration traveling straight to your core, making fresh slick gush from your cunt. He cleaned the wounds with careful licks until the bleeding slowed to faint pink smears, then dragged his mouth higher, burying his face between your legs.
Toji held himself back with every fraying scrap of control the moon had not yet stolen from him, his clawed hands trembling where they gripped your thighs, spreading them wide enough to bare your soaked cunt completely to his gaze. Fear still shimmered in your wide eyes, but beneath it lay the undeniable pull of trust, the way your body arched toward him even as your breath hitched in small, frightened gasps. He could smell it all: the sharp tang of your terror, the thick honeyed sweetness of your arousal, the faint lingering mist of crushed midnight berries that kept the worst of his bloodlust leashed just long enough for him to remember who you were. His mate. His red. Not prey. Never prey.
He lowered his head slowly, deliberately, giving you time to feel the heat of his breath ghosting over your flushed folds before his tongue made contact. The first lick was gentle, almost reverent, a broad flat stroke from your leaking entrance all the way up to the swollen pearl of your clit. He savored the taste of you like fine wine, letting the slick coat his tongue, letting your flavor bloom across every sense until the feral edge in his growl softened into something closer to a purr. Your hips jerked involuntarily, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you tried to close your thighs, but his hands held firm, claws pricking just enough to remind you he had you exactly where he needed you.
He ate you with careful patience, tongue circling your clit in slow, lazy spirals that made your toes curl against the furs. Every time you squirmed, every time your body tried to twist away from the overwhelming pleasure, he pressed his mouth harder against you, sealing his lips around the sensitive bud and sucking gently, rhythmically, until your back bowed and fresh slick poured onto his tongue. His drool mixed with your arousal in messy rivulets, dripping down your perineum, soaking the sheets beneath your ass. He lapped it all up without shame, tongue dipping lower to trace the tight ring of your entrance, pushing shallowly inside before dragging back up to flick at your clit again. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, mingling with your broken moans and the low, continuous rumble vibrating from his chest into your core.
You were squirming harder now, thighs shaking around his head, fingers tangling in the thick fur along his shoulders as you tried to decide whether to pull him closer or push him away. He did not let you decide. One clawed hand slid up your belly to pin your hips down, keeping you open and helpless while his mouth worked you with single-minded devotion. He needed to do this. Needed to bring you to the edge gently, to drown you in pleasure until your fear melted into boneless surrender, until your cunt fluttered and gushed and begged to be filled. Only then could he trust himself to stuff you full without tearing you apart.
Your first orgasm crashed through you like a slow, rolling wave, walls clenching around nothing as you cried out his name, back arching so sharply the furs bunched beneath you. He drank every drop, tongue lapping softly through the aftershocks, soothing the oversensitive bud with kitten licks until you were trembling, tears streaking down your cheeks, body limp and shuddering. He pulled back only when your whimpers turned to exhausted little sighs, chin glistening, eyes still dark with moon-mad hunger but softened by the sight of you wrecked and pliant beneath him.
You were fucked out already, mind hazy, limbs heavy, cunt still twitching with the echoes of release. Your thighs fell open wider on their own, slick shining in the moonlight, clit flushed and throbbing visibly. He rose slowly, kneeling between your legs, cock jutting thick and heavy from his torn shorts, veins pulsing along the shaft, knot swollen and dark at the base. The sight of it made your breath catch again, a fresh flicker of fear mingling with greedy want.
He wrapped one clawed hand around the base, stroking once, slow and deliberate, letting you watch the way pre beaded at the slit and dripped down the underside in thick pearls. His voice came out rough, layered with the beast’s growl but still unmistakably Toji.
So much precum. It wept from the slit in steady, thick beads, rolling down the veined underside of his cock in slow, glistening trails that caught the moonlight and shimmered like liquid silver. The shaft looked obscene in his own clawed grip—longer than before, thicker, the entire length flushed darker under the moon’s pull, every ridge and vein standing out in stark relief. Your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight, a fresh gush of slick leaking out to soak the furs beneath you, but doubt twisted sharp in your belly. You had taken him before, taken every brutal inch and the knot besides, but this version of him felt impossible. Bigger. Meaner. Like the moon had reshaped him into something built to ruin you completely. Your walls fluttered in nervous anticipation, unsure if they could open wide enough, unsure if they would ever close again after he forced his way inside.
He released himself and braced both clawed hands on either side of your hips, looming closer until the heat of his body swallowed the cool air between you. The fat tip nudged your entrance—slow, deliberate, smearing precum and your own slick together in a slippery mess. He rocked forward just enough to part your folds, letting the blunt head stretch the outer lips without breaching yet. You whimpered, thighs trembling, fingers digging into the thick fur along his forearms as if holding on could keep you from splitting apart. The stretch already burned, a deep ache that bordered on too much, but your cunt betrayed you again, fluttering greedily around the intrusion, trying to suck him deeper even as fear made your breath hitch.
Then the moon flared brighter through the cracked window, a sudden wash of cold silver that painted his fur in stark highlights and deepened the shadows under his eyes. Something snapped inside him. The careful restraint he had clung to shattered like thin ice. His claws sank into the soft flesh of your hips—not piercing deep enough to maim, but hard enough to draw thin scarlet lines that welled bright against your skin. He snarled, low and guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. The urge overtook him completely now, the moon’s call drowning out every whisper of gentleness.
He pushed.
Not slow anymore. Not careful.
His hips snapped forward with brutal force, the fat head breaching you in one unforgiving thrust that made your vision white out for a heartbeat. You screamed—high, broken—back bowing off the bed as your walls were forced to part around the impossible girth. It was too much, too fast, the burn ripping through you like fire, but he did not stop. When your body instinctively tried to resist, when your pussy clenched tight in protest, he gripped your waist with both massive hands and yanked you down hard onto him.
Your cunt opened.
Wide.
Helpless.
He sank to the hilt in one long, relentless slide, every thick inch burying itself deeper than it ever had before. The head kissed your cervix with bruising pressure, stretching you so thoroughly you could feel the shape of him imprinted against your inner walls, molding them to fit only him. Your pussy spasmed wildly around the invasion, trying to adjust, trying to accommodate the sheer size that filled you beyond capacity. Slick gushed out around the base in obscene spurts, dripping down your ass and pooling beneath you, but still he throbbed inside—hot, heavy, alive—claiming every fluttering inch.
You were shaking, tears streaming down your temples, mouth open in a silent wail as the fullness overwhelmed you. He was deeper than ever, deeper than humanly possible, the root of him pressed flush against your swollen lips, the fat knot still waiting below, swollen and insistent but not yet locked inside. Your walls rippled around him in frantic little pulses, trying to hug the impossible thickness, trying to find some rhythm in the stretch that bordered on pain and pleasure so intertwined they felt like the same thing.
Toji stilled for a long moment, chest heaving, claws flexing against your hips as he fought the urge to rut like the beast the moon wanted him to be. His forehead dropped to yours, breath ragged and hot against your face, green eyes still holding a flicker of himself beneath the feral haze.
“Fuck… look at you,” he growled, voice wrecked and layered with the wolf’s rumble. “Took all of me. So fuckin’ tight. So fuckin’ perfect. This little pussy’s tryin’ to keep me… gonna mold itself around me forever.”
He rolled his hips once—slow, testing—dragging every veined inch along your sensitive walls until you sobbed his name. The knot bumped your entrance, thick and unyielding, promising more stretch, more fullness, more ruin.
But he waited.
Just long enough for your body to soften around him, for your walls to flutter and accept the invasion, for your tears to slow into shaky breaths.
Then he began to move.
Deep, grinding thrusts that kept him buried to the root, knot teasing your rim with every roll of his hips. Each motion pushed you higher, stretched you wider, reminded you that you belonged under him, around him, filled by him until the moon finally tired of watching.
And when it did, when the silver light finally faded and his claws retracted, he would still be there—still deep inside you—still promising to breed you full again the moment the next full moon rose.
Because you had come back.
And now he would never let you go.
Toji wanted to go as deep as possible, deeper than the moon had already forced him, deeper than your body had ever known it could take. He shifted his weight forward until his entire massive frame pressed down on you, chest to chest, furred pelt scratching against your sensitive nipples, hips pinning yours to the mattress with unyielding pressure. The full length of him stayed buried to the hilt, every thick inch throbbing inside your squeezing walls, the fat knot still swollen and waiting below your entrance like a promise of final ruin. You were trapped beneath him completely, breath stolen by the sheer mass of him, every inhale filled with his scent—pine, musk, iron, and the wild edge of the moon that made your head spin.
He began to fuck into you with slow, punishing rolls of his hips, never pulling out more than halfway before driving back in, grinding the head of his cock against the deepest spot inside you until stars burst behind your closed lids. Your pussy clenched around him desperately, trying to hold him, trying to milk him, slick gushing out in messy pulses with every brutal plunge. The stretch was overwhelming, walls fluttering and spasming around the impossible girth, molding themselves tighter with every thrust as if your body had decided it would never let him go. He growled low against your throat, teeth grazing the old bite mark, tongue lapping at the sweat that gathered there while his claws flexed against your hips, keeping you exactly where he needed you.
You came hard and sudden, the pressure building until it snapped like a taut string. Your walls clamped down in violent ripples, squeezing him so tight he snarled, hips stuttering for a moment as your release flooded around him in hot, gushing waves. Slick sprayed against his pelvis, soaking the coarse fur at his base, dripping down to pool beneath you on the ruined sheets. Your back arched as much as his weight allowed, fingers scrabbling at the fur along his shoulders, nails digging in as you sobbed his name through the aftershocks. He did not stop. He fucked you through it, grinding deeper, slower, forcing your cunt to keep spasming, to keep spilling for him until every tremor wrung out of you left you limp and trembling.
He wanted more. Needed more. Needed your pussy to give everything before he would allow the knot to claim you completely. His thrusts turned punishing again, hips snapping forward with controlled brutality, each one punching the air from your lungs, each one driving him against that deep, sensitive spot until fresh tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. Your legs shook around his waist, heels digging uselessly into the small of his back, body too overwhelmed to do anything but take him. He slobbered against your neck, tongue dragging messy stripes up to your jaw, then down to your collarbone, tasting every inch of skin he could reach while he kept fucking into your squeezing, fluttering heat.
“Gonna make this cunt spill again,” he rasped, voice thick and wrecked, layered with the beast’s growl. “Gonna force you to come until you’re empty, until you’re shakin’ and ready for my knot. Gonna breed you so full you’ll feel it when the moon sets.”
He angled his hips just right, grinding the thick ridge along the underside of his cock against the swollen bundle of nerves inside you with every roll. Your second orgasm built fast, merciless, ripping through you before you could catch your breath. You wailed, walls clamping down harder than before, gushing around him in pulsing waves that soaked his fur, his thighs, the bed beneath you both. He groaned—long, low, primal—hips stuttering as he fought not to follow you over the edge, not yet. He wanted you wrung out, wanted your pussy soft and pliant and begging for the stretch of his knot before he gave it to you.
Feeling you cum and soak his cock had become an addiction he could never shake, the way your walls clamped down in desperate spasms, the hot flood of your release coating every thick inch of him until he was drenched in you. Toji stared down between your bodies where you were joined, mesmerized by the sight of your pretty pussy creaming so good around him, slick and frothy white clinging to his shaft every time he pulled back just enough to see. The creamy mess dripped in slow, obscene strings from your stretched entrance down to the base where the swollen knot pulsed impatiently, begging to be let inside. Your body trembled beneath his weight, boneless and spent, but still fluttering in weak, helpless little pulses that milked him without mercy.
“That’s it, doll,” he rasped, voice thick with moon-drunk lust and something softer, almost reverent. “Look at this pretty pussy creamin’ so good for me. Soakin’ my cock like you can’t get enough. Fuckin’ addictive, red. Gonna make you do it again and again.”
He rolled his hips experimentally, grinding the fat knot harder against your rim, testing the stretch. The pressure built slow and relentless, pushing at the tight ring of muscle that had already been forced wide around his length. You felt it immediately—the burn, the impossible fullness threatening to split you open—and a broken sob tore from your throat. Your mind was gone, fucked out and babbling, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as you tried to form words that came out as nothing more than wet, needy whimpers. “Toji… s’too much… please… knot me… please…”
He kissed you then, messy and deep, swallowing every drooly sound you made. His tongue plunged into your open mouth, tasting the salt of your tears and the faint sweetness of berries still lingering on your lips. He groaned into the kiss, hips rocking forward in tiny, insistent thrusts that kept the knot pressed right there, right at the edge, stretching you wider with every grind. Your legs shook around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, nails raking down the thick fur along his shoulders as you arched into him, chasing the pressure even though it bordered on too much.
“Gonna give it to you now,” he growled against your mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to speak. “Gonna fuck this knot into your cunt. Gonna lock us together so deep you’ll feel me when the moon’s gone. Ready, baby? Gonna make you take it all.”
You nodded frantically, tears streaming, drool shining on your chin, body trembling with overstimulation and need. He pulled back one last time—slow, torturous—until only the head remained inside, then slammed forward with brutal precision.
The knot forced its way past your rim in one long, searing stretch.
You screamed—high, shattered, voice breaking into sobs—as the thick bulge popped inside and lodged deep, sealing you together with a wet, filthy sound that echoed in the quiet cabin. The fullness was blinding, overwhelming, every sensitive inch of your walls stretched to their absolute limit around the swollen knot that throbbed in time with his heartbeat. You came again instantly, walls spasming violently around him, milking the knot in frantic ripples that pulled a guttural roar from his throat.
He ground against you in tight, helpless circles, unable to pull out, unable to do anything but ride the waves of your orgasm while his own release crashed through him. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted deep inside, flooding your womb, backing up around the knot until creamy white leaked out in slow rivulets despite how tightly you were sealed. His claws flexed against your hips, holding you flush to him as he pumped you full, again and again, until every drop had nowhere else to go but to stay trapped where it belonged.
You were a drooling, babbling mess beneath him—mind fucked blank, body limp and trembling, cunt still fluttering in weak aftershocks around the knot that kept you locked to him. He stayed buried deep, entire weight pressing you into the furs, forehead resting against yours as his breathing slowly steadied. One clawed hand slid up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears and drool with surprising gentleness.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough but soft at the edges now that the peak of the moon’s madness had passed. “Took my knot so perfect. Took every drop. My pretty red… all mine.”
He kissed you again—slow this time, languid—tongue tracing the seam of your lips, tasting himself on you, tasting the mess he had made of you. The knot throbbed inside, keeping you full, keeping you close, while the moonlight slowly faded through the window.
He fucked his cum back in deeper with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips, the knot still swollen and locked tight inside you, forcing every thick, milky drop to stay where it belonged. Each tiny grind pushed the warmth higher, deeper, until your lower belly felt heavy and full, the faint swell of it pressing against his abdomen every time he moved. Your walls fluttered weakly around the intrusion, too spent to clench properly anymore, but still trying—still hugging him like your body refused to let even a single bit of him escape. Slick and seed leaked in lazy rivulets around the seal of the knot despite how tightly you were joined, soaking the furs beneath you in a sticky, cooling mess that smelled overwhelmingly of sex and pine and the faint metallic edge of the hunt.
The moonlight slowly faded through the cracked window, clouds rolling in thick and heavy until the silver glow dimmed to nothing more than faint gray shadows. The moon was finally clouded over. The pull in his bones eased. His claws retracted inch by inch until they were blunt fingernails again, the coarse pelt receding until only the familiar dark hair dusted his chest and arms. His ears flattened and rounded, tail stilling where it had been lashing slow circles around your ankle. He was Toji again—mostly—breath ragged, voice hoarse, but the feral madness had retreated, leaving behind the man who had tried so hard to keep you away.
He held your ruined body tighter, arms wrapping around you like iron bands wrapped in velvet, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other splayed wide over the small of your back, pressing you flush against his chest. His heartbeat thundered against your ear, fast and unsteady, slowing only as the last echoes of the moon’s call died away. Relief washed through him in waves so strong they made his shoulders shake. He had not torn you apart. He had not broken you beyond repair. You were still here, still breathing, still warm and soft and alive in his arms. But beneath the relief burned something sharper—anger, hot and bitter, directed at you and at himself in equal measure.
“How could you come back?” he rasped against your hair, voice cracking on the words. “You were so stupid, red. So fuckin’ careless. I told you to stay away. Told you what it does to me. And you walked right back into it like it was nothin’.”
Tears welled in your eyes again, spilling slow and silent down your cheeks, soaking into the skin of his collarbone where your face was buried. You tried to speak, tried to explain the ache that had pulled you through the woods despite every warning, but all that came out was a small, broken sob. He hated seeing you cry. Hated the way it twisted something deep in his chest, hated that he had been the cause of it even if the moon had been the blade. His thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping the tears away with careful strokes, smearing them into your skin like he could erase the hurt.
“Shhh,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple, then your forehead, then the corner of your eye where the salt still clung. “Don’t cry, doll. Please. I can’t stand it.”
He shifted just enough to ease some of his weight off you without pulling the knot free—still locked deep, still keeping you tethered—and tucked your head under his chin. His hand stroked slow circles over your back, tracing the line of your spine, grounding you both in the quiet aftermath. The anger was still there, simmering low, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming gratitude that you were safe. That he had held back enough. That the damage was only bruises and bites and the deep, tender ache between your legs, nothing that would not heal.
“You’re safe now,” he whispered, voice rough but steady. “Moon’s gone. I got you. Ain’t lettin’ go until this knot eases and even then… even then I’m keepin’ you close.”
He kissed the top of your head again, lingering there, inhaling the scent of you—sweat and tears and berries and him—all mixed together until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. His tail curled loosely around your thigh once more, a soft, possessive loop that said he was not ready to release you fully.
“Stupid little red,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it anymore, only exhausted fondness. “Comin’ back to a monster like me. Gonna have to punish you for that later… when you can walk again.”
You let out a small, watery laugh against his chest, fingers curling weakly into the hair there. He felt it—the tiny sound, the tremor of relief—and some of the tension finally bled out of his shoulders.
He held you tighter.
Thankful.
Relieved.
And quietly, fiercely determined that the next full moon would find you both somewhere safer—somewhere chained if he had to be, somewhere locked away—but together.
Because you had come back.
And he would spend every day making sure you never regretted it.
