#fic: incandescent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kewltie · 5 months

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"We can't let this go on any longer," Lord Haga beseeches to the entire war room, hands gesticulating wildly. "You all must understand how serious this situation is. The future of our kingdom is at stake!"

His grave tone matches the somber mood that reflects in the weary face of the various council members.

"I recognize your concern, but it only been a month so far. It's still early," Lady Fukuda refutes, gripping the handle of her cane tightly. "We should give them some time."

"Time?" A harsh snap of a fan catches their attention. "It's exactly what we don't have." Lady Sada snorts.

Fukuda bristles. "With such an importance matter, we can't let it be compelled solely your whims."

"My whims?" Sada glares at her old rival. "I'm speaking what we're all thinking! It's because this is so important that we can't wait too long to take action! Hesitation can be costly."

Fukuda nearly rise to her feet in anger before Lord Date drags her back down into her seat. "She means well," he consoles.

"I don't care about her vapid opinion," she huffs, "but these things take time. We can't rush it. It needs delicacy and thoughtfulness to bear fruit."

Sada purses her lips. "It's all because of those inane ideas like yours that we're in our first month already and no progress has been made yet."

"Then what do you suggest? We should have just forced it instead of letting it occur naturally?" Fukuda frowns, shaking her head. "That's not right."

"Is it really time to think about right or wrong when we have to consider our people’s need?" Sada insists loudly, voice rising above the ruckus. "Or do you not care about the future of our kingdom?!"

"That's not what I said—" Fukuda begins, but is drowned out by other dissenting voices filling the room.

"I agree with Sada, we have to take necessary action—"

"No, you're crazy! We should—"

"Perhaps, we should lower our voices and talk this over like proper ladies and gentlemen—"

"It's like you all had forgotten what it's like to deal with this in your old age. This requires—"

Lady Keema clears her throat and that's enough to silence everyone as she takes control of the room with a wave of her hand. "All your opinions are valid and I thank you for your passionate views," she says diplomatically, "but shouldn't we address the other half of the concerned party here?"

Thirteen pair of eyes turn toward the seat at the head of the table where Bakugou Katsuki, the reigning Furie, has been brooding in his seat with an increasingly sour look on his face for the past hour.

"Are you all done yelling at each other about my marital life?" He sneers.

Haga's weathered face, carved by many decades on the battlefield, frowns. "It's only because we care," he asserts. "The seed of our kingdom is in jeopardy. Has the consort shown any change in feelings toward you?"

Katsuki scoffs. "Am I his keeper? I can't read his fucking mind."

"Then there haven't been an effort toward building an emotional connection to him?" Keema prods with a concern look. "You had at least make an attempt to have a meal with him once a day, right?"

Katsuki scowls. "I been busy! And besides, it's not like we have that much to talk about either."

Keema gives him a look of complete disappointment like he's five again and she can guilt trip him into behaving. Un-fucking-likely. Katsuki has long outgrown that shit. He's the ruler of his kingdom and she isn't his wetnurse anymore, not that she seems to care about semantics.

Keema stands up, her small figure seemingly towering over him easily despite his large stature on her. "You are wedded. He is your consort," she says. "Your heartsoul. Talk to him. Know him. Love him. Do what is necessary for the sake of our future."

"Just say you want us to fuck, so you can have an heir to raise,” he snaps. He would rather march into another war before he has to deal with being interrogate by his advisors about his marital strife.

"If that would help," Keema says with no hesitation. "Please sleep with the consort."

During the majority of his childhood, Katsuki's parents were far too busy fighting off foreign invaders from their border, so he was single-handedly raised by Lady Keema whose iron wills had helped shape him into the person he is today; in other words, she does not put up with any of his bullshit.

While Katsuki can bully his council members into obedience when their insistence blabbering annoy him, it's hard to scare someone like Keema who'd practically wiped his ass since he was a kid.

Katsuki smiles, but it has a sharp, biting edge to it. "You're more than welcome to be an audience in our bed chamber," he offers.

He eases into his seat with enough comfort that spoke of the confident of someone who knows his place in the room; it's the head of this table.

This does not impress Keema as her eyes flutter imperceptibly.

"That would not be necessary, Your Holiness," Haga quickly interjects before it can further descend into any bloodshed between them. "We only wish to help."

"Marriage can be a challenge navigate for a newly wedded couple," Fukuda adds. "It's understandable if you're having a difficult time."

Katsuki frowns, irritated at their insinuation. "We're doing fine," he insists, but it sounds hallow even to his ears. "He and I don't fight."

"It would be really hard to fight when you two barely even see to each other," Keema says dryly, siting back down in her seat and looking upon him with heavy skepticism. "Wouldn't it be nice if you could use that mouth you were born with to communicate with the consort more?"

Unable to rebuttal, Katsuki scowls.

A flurry of chatter abruptly erupts in the room as everyone seems to have a certain impression of his and Izuku's relationship stuck in their head and plans on how to resolve their various non-existence issues.

“A moment please.” Lady Ogane raises her voice above the noise. "It's a little crass to say this," she startgs, "but perhaps it's a problem of intimacy that's making things difficult for the couple?"

Silence cuts through the commotion.

"Are you suggesting that the Furie lack the skill to bed the consort properly?!" Haga asks incredulously, clutching his chest in horror.

Katsuki's left eye twitches.

"There's nothing wrong with his prowess in bed," Haga continues to blabber on like Katsuki actually need defending. "Even if that was the case, his inexperience would only allow for him to grow."

Katsuki could feel the grip his sanity loosening with each word that passed Haga's lips.

Ogane’s eyes widen in appall. "That wasn't what I said!" she protests, face pinches as she sends him a heated glare. "It says a lot about you that your first thought led you to the bedchamber rather than just thinking I had meant a more interpersonal development between them, Lord Haga."

Being called out like that in front of all his peers flustered Haga enough that he tries to muster up a comeback. "Plenty of new couples have had problems with consummation of their marriage and the Furie is no exception to this. It's perfectly reasonable to assumed that was what you meant!"

It doesn't take much to pressed upon everyone here that Haga had reversed his earlier stance where the assumption was that Katsuki’s lacked the expertise in the bedroom was slanderous to now saying that yes, Katsuki is very much new at this and his ignorance is to be expected.

The betrayal would have hurt Katsuki less if it didn't happen within the span of minutes. Haga, who taught him how to hold a sword and fought by his side through several battles, was his greatest defender and traitor. The flimsy loyalty in his subjects is truly appalling. He should just abuse his power and have them all executed for their disloyalty and dissent. It would save him the headache of having to put with this asinine affair, but there wasn't even time for Katsuki to bring his plan into fruition before someone got another bright idea.

"If I may," Fukuda interjects, breaking through the tension in the room. "The Furie can try to show his affection to the consort with a hand written letter. Words on paper can be a window to the soul."

"So, you’re basically suggesting His Holiness should a write a love letter," Sada says flatly. “Like a smitten fool.”

"It's proven method," Fukuda argues. "I won my husband's hand in marriage that way."

"Your husband is an idiot for being swayed so easily like that." Sada rolls her eyes. "Instead, the Furie should take the consort out on a hunt and impress upon him with his martial skills."

Fukuda frowns. "That's not going to move the consort's heart! Courtship is all about being sentimental and thoughtfulness. You can't brute force romance!"

"It's call being engaging," Sada says testily. "Romance doesn't always have to be soft. It can also be an adventure and excitement!"

"But where's the vulnerability and poetry to it?" Fukuda asks, shaking her head. "You need to take your time with it!"

"Then we would be dead before we see any progress." Sada snorts. "It's about passion and the thrill, which clearly you would know if you weren't so boring."

"That's right, we can't wait around forever for them to open their heart to each other," someone says. "Immediate action needs to be taken."

But another dissent is quick to defend the other side’s point. "But I agree with Fukuda, love can't be pushed. It has to be nurtured carefully."

Before the room can descend into another pointless argument, Haga turns to the subject in question and pleads, "Your Holiness, please speak up and share any thought you may have on this."

Katsuki, who been bludgeoned to near death by all sides today, grits out, "I rather die." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Don't you all have something better to do? Like a fucking country to run to the ground instead of prying into my marital life?"

"Your marital life is the future of this country," Keema states. "The sooner you have children the better for us." She looks thoughtful for a second. "Three would be the ideal number, but we'll take one for now and work up from there."

"That's quite considerate of you," Katsuki says dryly. "I'll get right on fucking Izuku after this meeting end and let's hope that would do the trick."

Unfazed by his causal vulgarity, the smile that stretches across her face is mocking. "If that would have worked the first time around, then we wouldn't be here right now discussing your lack of progress, but that's assuming you managed to even coupled at all since then."

A gasp escapes.

Nobody knows where it came from, but the scandalized face that reflect in each of the them said that it doesn't matter because they all think the same: the Furie hadn't bed the consort yet.

It been a month already, so how can that be?! It's just absurd. Ridiculous. Impossible.

Katsuki bangs his fist on the table and sends a menacing glare to the occupants of the room. "Speak and I'll have your fucking head right now," he growls.

And that's enough to shut them all. It's the first time all day that Katsuki has gain some upper traction in the meeting. But it doesn't last long. It never could.

Fearless even in the face of tyranny, Keema says, "No need to be so combatant, Your Holiness. We're all here to help you."

"I. Do. Not. Want. Your. Help," Katsuki carefully enunciates each word, bristling for a bloody fight with her.

Keema stares at him, their eyes meeting in a clash of wills. Then, just like that she breaks away and sighs. "Your stubborn pride will not only cost us a future, but it won't win you any favor either," she says, with the same chiding tone that she used to lecture him as a child. "This is a marriage, a partnership, so if you're not willing to open your heart and communicate with each other, it will only foster misery and resentment in your relationship. You cannot raise a child in that kind of toxic environment.” The weight of her gaze on him is heavy. “Do you want your future children thinking they're not wanted and loved?"

Her words were cold and callous, yet she was kind in her delivery. That what makes it even worse.

Katsuki groans and looks at all the people in the room, the worry on their face and the sincerity in their eyes. With his walls finally dropped, he asks, "What the fuck should I do then?"

And with that, it unleashed a storm of opinions raining down on him. Suddenly, everybody got a fucking idea of the perfect romance, the way of courtship, and the how-tos of wooing. This is how I won over my beloved, they proudly brag while Katsuki regrets opening his mouth.

These are some of the most powerful members of his court, who wield incredible influence in their respective field, yet here they are fiercely debating the merit of flowers as a romantic gesture.

"Flowers are a classic. You just cannot go wrong with it," Ogane suggests.

Sada gives a derisive snort. "Not if that person doesn't like flowers to begin with."

Ogane turns to Katsuki. "Then does the consort like flowers?" she prods curiously.

Katsuki presses his lips together, finding that to be an extremely difficult question all of a sudden.

When the silence stretches beyond what could be consider a normal length, Haga sighs as he drags a hand down his face. "Your Holiness, it has been a whole month," he says, sounding inexplicably more tired now. "Please tell me you spoke more than ten words to each other daily."

"It didn't come up!" Katsuki defends, feeling like a grade school child who’d failed a surprised test or something. It’s the worst feeling. "It's not a topic that can be casually brought out in a conversation."

The disappointed murmurs that arise from the room cuts at him more than any sword.

"The Furie is talented in many ways and well versed in running this kingdom, but he's still lacked the means understand others on an empathic level," Keema says, all but calling him emotionally stunted while he's right the fuck there. In the room. Sharing the same air as her.

Katsuki's hands clenches, then unclenches slowly. He breathes and holds his tongue.

"Now, here what we're going to do," Keema states to the room and to Katsuki in particular.

Katsuki sits up and gears for what is to be the most important battle of his life. "I'm listening."

Two hours and several heated arguments later, where it almost broke out into three separate fist fights, Katsuki comes out of the meeting vaguely traumatized, but with a mission rooted in his head. Carrying the expectations of his entire kingdom on his shoulders, the pressure to succeed is heavy.

That weight carries him blindly right to the front doors of Izuku's palace.

"What the fuck you mean he's gone?" Katsuki demands, glaring at the cowering servant in front of him when he couldn’t locate Izuku anywhere.

She trembles under the force of his anger, but still, she manages to say, "His Highness is at the atheneum. He's been there all morning."

Katsuki rakes a hand through his hair in annoyance. The atheneum is place full of scholars obsessed with old texts and artifacts. It's boring and dusty, and not a place the high consort should normally be found at. "What is he even doing over there?!"

The servant lowers her gaze and mumbles helplessly, "The consort said he wanted to see their books."

Stunned, but somehow not surprised Katsuki purses his lips. "Fine," he says, and quickly dismisses her.

He rushes toward the atheneum; a massive tower of stone and mortar. A gathering place and an academic center for some of the most brilliant minds in the kingdom. Here, the scholars comb over thousands of years of history and memories. It's also the least exciting area in the entire city. Katsuki would know, he was taught here when he was young; one of their best pupils.

The moment he steps foot in the tower and breathes it dry, dusty air again, it feels like coming home again. If home was an ancient tomb for lost legacy.

"Your Holiness?" one of the sages asks, surprised by Katsuki's sudden arrival. "Is there something we can help you with?"

"The consort?" Katsuki presses, before the man can say anything else. "Where he is?"

Seemingly taking back by his demand, the sage blinks before quickly composing himself with a low respectful bow of his head. "His Highness is in the Blue Room as he had requested," he answers.

Katsuki knows that room. Knows it keenly well. It's where he used to spend hours upon hours in, learning the long, bloody history of his ancestors and the legacy of fallen conquerors and what it means to rule and to serve on the behest of his people. It's where he was made.

He turns around without another word and heads off in the familiar direction, his feet retracing the path he’d used to walk all those years ago. Finally, Katsuki arrives at a thick double door and pushes through, revealing an endless walls of book that touches the ceiling, but no Izuku in sight at all.

He walks deeper in and turns a corner. Another. And another until he finally catches sight of Izuku standing on a bookshelf as he tries to reach for a book up high. His feet are several feet off the ground, hanging precariously on small landing space.

What the fuck. This idiot.

An indescribable feeling propels him forward. "Get down!" he hisses, extending his hands out as he reaches for Izuku.

Startled, Izuku tries to look back, balance swaying in the process and his foot slips from the landing. Katsuki catches him by the waist before he could fall.

His hands are wrapped around a notably thin waist under those heavy layers of robes. Izuku is often so overdressed that he didn't realize till now how small and delicate Izuku feels against him. It surprises him because Izuku carries himself with the surety of two people behind him.

While momentarily distracted, Izuku's elbow collides right into his chest so hard that it knocks the wind right out of him, causing Katsuki to drop Izuku to the floor, who easily lands on his feet.

Izuku is neither a soldier or a warrior, but he's fighter. A dirty, fucking fighter.

"You scared me," Izuku defends with a rosy, embarrassed tint to his cheeks as he steps back, putting a polite distance between them as possible.

"You didn't hear me coming in?" Katsuki raises a brow, peeved.

Izuku smiles sheepishly. "I can get lost in my head when I'm concentrating."

If Izuku wasn't so apologetic about it, Katsuki would be led to think he did on purpose for all the time Katsuki's fail in his dereliction of duty as a husband during this past month, but even though he still has much to learn about Izuku, he knows that Izuku isn't that petty.

But Katsuki is. He hunches over and lets out an exaggerate groans as he rubs the place Izuku had jabbed into. "Fuck."

"My lord?"

He could hear panic footsteps hurrying toward him, so he shoots his hand out. "Got you." He pulls Izuku in by the wrist. "Do you see me now?"

His eyes are round and huge, far too big for his small face, seemingly held in place by Katsuki's words. He drops his gaze, lashes quivering, and a moment of hesitation before Izuku tries to yank his wrist back with enough force to break Katsuki's iron grip with an annoyed huff.

Izuku steps back, putting the exact same icy distance between them. His glares at Katsuki defiantly. Green on red. Neither glancing away or backing down. "Don't joke like that," Izuku says quietly, rubbing his wrist. "That's not funny."

It's firm and chiding. And a hint of peevishness that is hard to hide.

Katsuki's lips twists in wry smile, but he doesn't apologize for it. He simply bends his head in acknowledgement. "I'll remember that next time."

Izuku's gaze breaks contact with him momentarily before it snaps back to him again. His eyes are cool and placid now, that earlier spark is gone.

"Is there anything I can help you with, my lord?" Izuku asks with a cordial smile that is so perfectly in place. It's disturbing how he easily switches off from that initial anger to something far friendlier and accommodating like he's covering up a failing on his part.

Izuku presents himself as this well-mannered and dutiful person, so effortlessly clean and boring. It makes Katsuki want to ruffle him up and shake him around, peeling back whatever mask to see the real Izuku underneath because he can't be that fucking dull like a lifeless doll.

It makes for a great consort; perfectly presentable to the public, accommodating to all, and a polite and gracious host, but a stale marriage partner if all Izuku give him is deference and a pleasantry.

It's annoying. He doesn't want to be chained down to a bore. So, Katsuki didn't bother to make an effort with Izuku. But maybe that was a mistake to begin with.

He straightens up and looks pass Izuku to the bookcase behind him. "What were you doing earlier?!" he demands.

Izuku drops his gaze, hands clenched together in front of him defensively. "I wanted to a book, but I couldn't reach it from the floor."

"Why didn't you just use your Blessing?" Katsuki stares confusedly.

Izuku looks at him, lips pressed together. "Well," he says, voice drifting off as Katsuki remembers why.

Feeling stupid, Katsuki walks over to the bookcase and touches the gold sigil carved into the side of it.

"Which book?" he asks, brows furrowing at rows and rows of endless books.

"Um, that one," Izuku says, pointing a thick tome with a red binding.

Katsuki presses his thumb into the sigil and it lights up. As though reading his mind, the book slowly pulls itself from the shelf.

"Amazing," Izuku murmurs, looking at it with a childish awe and wonder. Not a hint of resentment for what he is lacking, while others can call upon it as easy as breathing.

It stirs something in Katsuki to know in a world of gods and magic, Izuku is bless by neither; unchosen.

The book floats down into Katsuki's waiting hand. He glances down at the cover, written in bold black ink, ‘Conversations with a bedfellow of kings: the life, lies, and love.'

Katsuki frowns. "What is this—s?"

Izuku snatches the book from his hand, blushing. "It's nothing."

He clears his throat, shifty eyes and clutching the book his chest. "Is there something you need from me, my lord?" he asks again.

Katsuki's eyes are still glue to the book, but his mouth still finds a way to speak for him. "Pack your stuff. We're taking a short sabbatical."

Izuku blinks, slow and wary. "Why?"

"Think of it as a break," Katsuki says. "You get to leave the palace for once and see the mountains and lakes around here. And sniff the air or something. I won't even have any work to bother me for a while."

Izuku perks up immediately. "Who else will be coming with us?"

"It'll just be you and me," Katsuki replies.

"Oh," Izuku says, deflated.

Irritated by his lackluster reaction after knowing that they'll be alone for this entire trip, Katsuki sneers. "Is that a problem?" he demands.

Frantically shaking his head, he says, "No, not at all." He plasters on a diplomatic smile. "When are we leaving then?"

Now, it's Katsuki to look shifty. "Tomorrow afternoon."

"What?!" Izuku all but shouted.

"I can't leave Ashein to govern on its own, so I can only spare four days," he explains as he backs away. "So, get ready."

He makes the decision to leave after that, dashing for the door before Izuku can get another word in to question him further about it. This wasn't his plan; it's the old cronies who thought the couple needed to spend some alone time together to build up an emotional connection.

It sounds like a terrible idea, but he doesn't have any better solution to make this marriage work. This trip is supposed to lay down the cornerstone of their relationship, so of fucking course the morning they're about to set off, some fucking idiots decided to stage a violent uprising at the borders.

History has a tendency to exaggerate the duty of a ruler; assassination, secret affairs, and plenty of deaths. The death thing is true, but there's only so much wars Katsuki could find before someone has to drag him home so he can properly govern his ever-expansive empire.

The truth is ruling is a lot of delegation, micromanaging, calling out people when they're being a dumb shit, and squashing any disorderly before it become another full-blown war. Katsuki may like the thrill of the battle, but wars are costly in gold and men. It's always consequential.

So, it's of the utmost important that Katsuki keeps shit from turning into deeper shit.

An illegitimate eldest daughter, a younger son of the official wife, a dead lord, and no will can be found, leading to a dispute over who can sit as the rightful heir of an earldom.

It quickly spilled out into a violent altercation between the two parties, drawing different lines of loyalty from key members of Katsuki's court. This requires the kind of delicacy and diplomacy that Katsuki is poorly lacking. Something that his tutors had failed to successfully drill into him.

Katsuki won't be able to solve this easily just by making the daughter and son duel each other, and the winner gets the seat. It was a valid suggestion, but none of his advisors were happy about it. He actually has to put in the work to make sure that this doesn't get out of control.

Normally, this wouldn't be an issue itself, because as much as dealing with his annoying subjects aggravate him, they’re his people and he won't fail them, but there's now Izuku. They were supposed to leave today to spend some time alone together to work on their relationship.

It's just he can't leave now and abandoned this matter to his court.

"It's fine. I understand," Izuku says, after hearing his dilemma. His smile is reassuring, but it doesn't make it any easier.

"I'll come to you within a day," he says. "I won't leave you there by yourself."

Izuku's smile softens into something more sincere. "I'll anticipate your arrival then, my lord."

"And I'll take care of him," Keema says confidently. "Just go do your job."

Katsuki hesitates, then nods his head. He's determined to resolve this and meet up with Izuku soon.

Instead, it took Katsuki nearly three whole days to settle this matter, because everyone behaved like a fucking child throwing tantrum for not getting what they want. These are the people who sit at the top as they wield tremendous power over a mass of land and citizens. Fucking Idiots!

And now his sabbatical with Izuku is about to end and he hasn't even left the fucking palace yet while Izuku is already spending three days alone up in the royal’s mountain villa.

Katsuki has never been more frustrated and embarrassed by his own inadequacy. He'd failed in his promise. Failure is a beast lurking in the shadow, ready to jump at him as soon as he slipped up and he'd slipped up big this time. Fuck.

As soon as he wrapped up the feud, reminding all parties involved not the start any shit while he's away, he calls the stable master to get his steed ready. Going against the advisement of his guards, Katsuki rides ahead of the retinue. If he wants to make it there in time, he can't wait for them along with the servants and carriages that hold all the necessities for the trip. They're extra baggage right now that he can't afford.

From dawn to dusk, he rides through the palace walls, the capital city, and then out into the open field for nearly 10 hours straight until he reaches a spiraling villa at the base of the Mount Tsai.

The guards stationed outside jump into attention upon his haggard appearance.

"Your Holiness!" one of them exclaims in surprised. "We thought you would be here tomorrow."

"You thought wrong then," Katsuki deigns to say before marching pass them, letting determination carry his numb legs through. Dirt and sweat sticking to him like an extra layer of gunk.

"Where is he?" he demands, spotting Keema sipping her tea under a canopy by the koi pond.

Putting down her teacup, she glances up at him from her seat unfazed by his sudden arrival. "He's fine," she says, which didn't answer Katsuki's question, but somehow still answered it. "He’s been relaxing and enjoying himself in the activities around the area."

Katsuki frowns. "Did he ask for me?"

"Not a single word," she answers blithely. "The consort easily understood that you have your duty, so he didn't have much expectation from you in the first place."

He flinches as though struck. It has no right to cut as deep as any sword ever did.

As if taking pity on him, Keema sighs. "Don't take it as condemnation. The consort is a member of the royal family now, so he knows that sometimes obligation to the crown is given more priority. He isn't upset."

But that doesn't alleviate any of the tension he feels. "Let me talk to him," Katsuki insists.

"Why don't you washed up first?" she suggests, eyeing him up and down. His dishevel appearance did not impress her. "You look like you belong in the trash. The consort is relaxing right now. If you appear suddenly in front of him looking like that..." She gives him a knowing look. "Don't give him any reason to worry. Wash yourself in the hot spring first then you can meet him tomorrow. You still have one more day, make good use of it."

Katsuki's feet refuses to budge at first, but under Keema's unrelenting glare he finally gives him. "Fine. Tomorrow," he hisses.

"Ane, if you please," Keema commands the young servant girl beside her. "Make sure he's well taken care of."

Ane bows. "This way, Your Holiness."

The girl steps ahead of him, leading him away from the canopy.

"Oh, you'll thank me later for this," Keema says as she waves him off.

There's a suspicious cheeriness in her tone that set off the alarm bell in his head. He narrows his eyes, but continues to follow Ane anyway. His weary bones propelling him forward.

Katsuki doesn't have time to consider what the fuck that was about. He's too tired and aching right now; his body feels like it had taken a hard beating. Maybe a relaxing soak in the hot spring can cool his head and wash away the exhaustion that cling to every muscle in his body.

Ane leads him toward a secluded and private outdoor area. Surrounded by bamboo walls, the hot spring is situated in a natural reservoir created by the dormant volcano the villa is built on. Beyond the bamboo walls he can hear running water and feels the hot air seeping through.

"If you need anything else, please call me," Ane says, before begging her leave.

Katsuki makes a grunt of acknowledgement and starts to disrobe as Ane heads back out. He strips down to the bare essential, taking a towel with him as he opens the door to the outdoor hot spring.

A fog of hot air clouds his vision and all he sees are the murky water and shadowy figures of overcast trees and boulders. Katsuki sighs as he makes his way inside. He dips his foot and sinks in till he hears a very distinct scream coming a few feet in front of him.

"P-pervert!"

This was a fucking setup. Can't even trust any of his advisor now.

Katsuki quickly turns away, but not before catching sight of damp hair clinging to flushed skin and large, round eyes staring at him in shock. Bared shoulders and collarbones above water; it's obscenity.

"What you are doing here?!" Izuku demands. His tone accusatory.

Katsuki swallows, the hot, damp air making it hard for him to think. Flashes of bared skin haunts him, repeating over and over in his head. Quickly, he stomps it down like roaches. It cannot be allowed to fester. To overrun in his head.

He clears his throat. "I was led to believe this was a private bath." Pauses. "For one."

Silence. It's nearly unbearable.

The humid air and hot water, Izuku only a few feet away from of him, and they both equally exposed and vulnerable, this wasn't how he'd imagine their reunion to be.

"Ah, I see," Izuku murmurs, finally realizing the mastermind behind their awkward situation now. Tension releases from his voice. "Did you just arrive?"

Katsuki nods, but still refuses to look at Izuku. Rather he finds the wall of rocks in front of him suddenly very interesting.

Katsuki fought many battles, saw people lost their limbs and bleed from their orifices, and sit by the side of a comrade as he breathed his last breath. He seen it all, blood and destruction and horrors of living and dying. It didn't scare him, but now he's afraid what he'll see if he looks at Izuku.

The spring is outdoor with plenty of space and everything in between them, but Katsuki feels confined. Suffocated. Every noise is suddenly magnified. Izuku’s drawn-out breathes. The swishing sound of the water highlights even the slightest movement from him. It's aggravating, because Katsuki can almost see it. Imagine it.

Sometimes what the mind conjured up is worst then the reality.

"You—" Izuku say, breath hitches. It's loud and clear as though it blew right into Katsuki's ear. "Don't look."

He clenches his hand under the water, nails digging into his palm. The heat is getting to him, making his head fuzzy. Muddled. A hazy fog over him.

"I'm not," he grinds out, shaking his head. He can't. Fuck. He stands up, doesn't care if he's buck fucking naked and can hear Izuku's muffled squeak from behind him.

"What are you—?" he asks, shocked.

"I'm out," Katsuki growls. This is a damn trap. He's an idiot if he chooses to stay.

A surge of wave moves forward, sloshing loudly as it hits the edge of the hot spring, then a hand grips his wrist. It anchors him in place. Wet skin on wet skin.

"W-wait, don't go," Izuku pleads. His touch burns hotter than the rapid heat that is taking over Katsuki's head. "I'm done, so you can have the bath instead." His voice is quiet, but reverberates in Katsuki's ears. "You must be tired from your long travel. The hot spring here is good for easing the ailing body."

Even when Katsuki had obviously wronged him, Izuku's first thought is on him.

"Gracious. Kind. And, most of all, someone who allow you to be selfish with your duty as a ruler, putting the kingdom first," Keema had told him. "These are the qualities we're looking for in your consort."

But to Katsuki it sounds less like a partnership and more of servitude.

It's all the more aggravating because he would have preferred anger than this gentle consideration. He doesn't deserve any of it.

"I don't need it. I'm fine," he says gruffly. He can't make out Izuku's face, but the hand around his wrist doesn't lighten.

"You don't look it." He can hear the frown in Izuku's voice. It's condemning. "Stop trying to be noble and take the bath. You need it with the way you smell right now."

Katsuki rips his wrist out of Izuku's hold, turning around, but the slight hitch coming from Izuku has him reversing course.

"How come you're so insolence when there's nobody else around," he scolds, rolling his eyes as he reacquaints himself with the rocks. It's less of a rebuke, but more of a revelation than anything. That veneer of politeness is easily scratched off once Katsuki picked at it hard enough.

"That's not true, I have the most utmost respect for you," Izuku says, voice light and airy through the heavy haze of the hot spring. Every word chosen with care and somehow it still leaves Katsuki doubtful. "If you would please close your eyes while I get out of the spring."

Katsuki sighs, shutting his eyes. Darkness quickly encases him as he hears the whooshing of the water as Izuku moves pass. They don't touch, but the heat emanating from Izuku's body and a note of soft, fuzzy peach lingers in the air. Close enough that it teases all his senses.

With his eyes closed he can't see anything, but even the slightest sound is enhanced; Izuku's breathy exhales and waterlogged footsteps play in his ears.

Katsuki sinks into the water as though he can hide himself from the potent allure of his own husband. It's fucking appalling.

"Have a good wash, my lord," says Izuku, oblivious to Katsuki's inner turmoil. "I'll be taking my leave now."

"Wait," he calls out suddenly, because he's not a complete asshole. He didn't forget. "Tomorrow morning, come with me to the lake. There's something I want you to see."

"Oh." It's a curious little slip, but it also says nothing at all. "Is that so?" He's not letting Katsuki go that easily.

He makes a face. "Would you like to go to the lake with me?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Izuku says.

He can't see it, but he hears it in Izuku's voice. There's a smile. Katsuki knows it. It's in the tilt of Izuku's words and the promise he made. He'll be there.

Katsuki opens his eyes just in time to see Izuku's back slipping through the door and wet tendrils of hair clinging to his nape before he's truly gone for good.

He turns around and leans his head back against the edge of the spring, letting out a long, weary exhale as his body finally feels the heat sinking in. This entire interaction with Izuku was more mentally tiring than mediating a border dispute and the rushed journey to get here.

Katsuki has learned to navigate the turbulent water of the court, but the ebbs and flows of his husband's mood is something he's only starting to figure out. Whoever had first suggested the idea of trading Katsuki’s hand in marriage, and possibly in his sanity, for peace should have been executed right there and then. He would take a hundred more battles then this marital dance of theirs. Izuku is going to be the death of him, and he’ll do it kindly and softly. And worst of all, Katsuki couldn’t even say he doesn’t deserve it.

#fic: incandescent nights #bakudeku #fic snippet

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tarjapearce · 7 months

Text

Laus Be

WARNINGS: SMUT. Double cock Demon Miguel, Not proofreaded, Mild dub-con, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

A/N: I'm high af on Advil and had to take this out of my system before I forgot. And yeah jskjs. Probably comes out as crack fic jsksj.

[Laus Be - Praised Be]

Summary: A cult offers you as a tribute to the Demon King himself ~

Viscous crimson liquid rolled off your chin as you were forced the goblet on your lips. Some of its remnants seeping and sliding down your throat.

The chants of cloaked figure around you intensified as they prepared their sacrificial lamb for slaughter. You.

They had not only kidnapped and kept you in the shadows for a while, depriving you from external stimuli that could soil what they had in hand.

Silence had turned your biggest company in the dark, stony, fusty and humid cell, you were being fed with selected things. And no matter how much you begged, they never released you.

You didn't know them, neither their faces, as them remained perpetually obscured by the cloaks. The only indicator they were human was the fresh smell of charred flesh in the back of their palms. A skull like spider symbol burned and forever marked into their skin.

You were kept in the dark until now. Everyone spoke in a foreign language you've never heard before.

One of them dragged you away from the twisted comfort your cell provided you, another group, bathed you in such delicate oils and perfumes, a common practice among the royals, and finally donned in nothing but a white silky and lace robe.

Then you were taken to another room, more like dragged, a golden chalice brought to you. The sickly sweet smelling concoction stared directly at you, but naturally, you refused.

Do not ever accept a drink from a stranger.

Wise words from your old man came into mind, but the wistful thought was shaken away as the liquid was forced down on your throat. Some droplets staining your angelic appearance. Their cloaked leader seemed annoyed you had ruined the immaculate purity your dress limned.

But it mattered not. Not when you were guided to a different room. A room that immediately lit on its own, revealing several pentagrams carved on the floor and walls. Candles melted, but they seemed perpetually alight, neverending incandescence illuminating and warming the room.

An appalling contrast from your cell, from the place in general. There was no windows, not a glimpse of anything that could dictate you who reigned over the skies. Day or night. Your sense of time had been so warped you couldn't even tell how many days your stance in this place had been.

Your eyes felt heavy, droopy and your body shivered. The perkiness of your breast peeking through the silky and soiled gown. One of the cloaked figures pulled you inside the outer circles of the first pentagram.

The contact of their skin made you whimper. You didn't know what had came over you, but certainly that sweet drink you were forced down a little ago, had everything to do with it.

The gates closed behind you, as the mystery people surrounded you. All of them kneeled as their voices united in an ancient chant.

Your mouth panted as they repeated the chant.

Laus be, Rex tuus [Praised be, Our King]

Your heart thumped harder, as your temperature increased. Heat and fear spreading through your body as the circles of the pentagrams begun buzzing with dark energy, soaring into life.

The chants increased, and so the smoldering heat between your legs.

An Aphrodisiac?

You didn't know not cared. The only thing in your mind was to run, as fiery red eyes emerged from the dark mist that disippated into tangible black spiders. Spiders that approached to you in a freakish speed.

Egredere de requiem tuam!

[Rise from your slumber]

You fell on your knees. The presence of the emerging entity had your insides cry in sheer need. Your body was rioting against all rational thought. Need clawed and begged to be acknowledged, but fear clung so hard you tried in crawling away, only for a hand to reach for your ankle and drag you back.

"No!"

You whimpered as the spiders crawled on you, panic rose at seeing them jumping all over your body, you tried to shake them off in your haste, but a low growl made you still. Deliciously low and dangerous. Your heart and clit pulsed.

No, no, no! Run!

The little crawlers hopped on your body again, to your shock, they melded together, taking the shape of hands that were now caressing whatever exposed piece of skin you had as other tugged and tore at the ceremonial robe, forcing you deeper in the pentagram circles, right before the demon.

Palms brushed on your bare body, by instinct you tried to cover up, a pair of hands stopped you. Black mist hands held your arms above you, wrist together as the rest proded at your outer folds, squeezed your breast together, pinched your nipples, kneaded your hips and ass.

"S-Stop!" You mouth lied and the demon before you smirked. His sharp and well sculpted factions revealed to you. Despite the horns attached to his forehead, he was as beautiful as terrifying. Sharp teeth shone when he plunged his big thumb inside your lips, toying with your warmth and moist tongue.

"Don't fight it"

Raspy and underwordly voice echoed through the walls

The summoned hands ventured a couple of fingers inside your now soaked hole. Your eyes drooped even further. A debauched expression coming through your flushed face. You licked his thumb, and engulfed it with closed eyes as the fingers slid in and out of you.

"Surrender to me"

He growled as another finger stretched your squelching and pulsating cunt. His thumb twirled against your tongue as his body took it's final shape. Broad and well sculpted torso, narrow waist with a sight that made you clench around his fingers and your mouth water. Hard and proud cocks, adorned with thick veins, a happy trail decorating the above.

The chants never stopped, but it didn't matter. You were focused on his deep and alluring voice that called you into the depths of depravity where he came from. You were a sacrifice offered for him to devour.

Pushed on your knees and crawling to him, whimpering as his fingers slid faster out of you, edging you to your first demise.

His clawed hand took gently your chin, holding it open as his other hand took one of his hefty cocks and fed you the tip, you immediately took a hold of the other one, stroking your hand on it. All inhibitions gone as your mouth worked him. He tasted rich, tangy and so addictive. He cackled at your shameless cock worship. Both mouth and hand wet and warm.

Your tongue was desperate to taste every inch of him, your eyes glowed in the same red hue. Your strokes on his second cock went faster, nearly fisting him between a tight grip. He hummed in approval

"So eager to please" He grunted and pushed deeper inside you, the stretch in your jaw was worth the pain as he slid in and out of your plump mouth. His hand bobbed your head on his length, coating him with a mix of your saliva and his pre cum.

You gagged but he pushed you as deeper as he could, holding your head still as his hips rammed on your lips, Your nose nuzzling and inhaling his musky and tantalizing scent that not only sent your senses in a stronger riot. He growled as your throat muscles clamped around him, tightly, just like your hand.

"Wonder if it's as tight between your thighs"

He rasped with a grunt and thrusted a few more times before releasing your head. A thick thread of his cum connecting your lips with his tip. You gasped, mouth gaping as the soft and wet noises kept coming from his soaked fingers. Your need to hold onto something only increased as your hips moved on their own, sinking deeper ontop of them.

"Pl... Please!" You mewled in between breathless pants. Your flesh soaked and quivered under his ministrations, imploring to be taken

"Are you begging to be destroyed, little one? Is that what you want?"

You nodded and his sharp fangs came into view as a wicked smile stretched in his meaty lips.

"So be it."

You mewled once more as he pulled his summoned fingers away from your slit, snake like tongue curling around them, taking a taste of you. He growled and pushed you to the floor.

Summoned hands immediately taking a hold of your body, spreading your legs for him to take in the sight of you. His lips were brought into sight as he approached your puffed and drenched cunt.

Slimy and amphibious like tongue slid between shivering folds, to then push in inside you. Clawed hands brought your hips against his mouth. Your hands clenched in tight fists at the pressure

His slithering and coiling tongue made you scream at the overwhelming sensation of him instigating your orgasm. His tongue was a bully, just as his hands that toyed with your clit and butthole.

Your nipples, engorged by the constant pinching and pulling. Toes curled in as you came into his mouth. As he left you, your insides felt empty, in dire need to be filled again.

One would think after such ministration the effects of the lust would tame down, but since the chant of the cloaked figures never stopped, your lust didn't subsided either. It only burned with such intensity you were growing to fear.

The handsome devil positioned himself between your legs, his sprung cocks twitched, ready to be plunged. The summoned hands folded you in half, exposing your holes to him.

The fist one rubbed in between your folds, coating it even further in your slick as the other one poked at your second tight hole.

"Oh God!" You cried as he stretched tortuously slow both of your holes at the same time, only to end up in a powerful plow as you mentioned 'god'.

He growled as his hand squeezed your neck, dangerously tight. Your arms restrained above you

"You'll see what a real god , feels like, wench"

Your spine arched as his hips began moving. To say you felt full was a measly thing compared to how your body was being used. Your lower belly bulged everytime he slid in, he pulled out only to plow deeper. Your skin shook by the rough display of power.

The hands that kept feeding your delusional debauchery, held you in place. The room was filled with your breathless and unceasing pleas and needy cries. A lot of 'Yes!' along with 'It hurts so good' and more 'use me!'

Your hips felt like breaking by the hefty weight of his own as they slapped against yours. Your senses were drowning in the sensorial overload he slowly put you through.

Skin burned, your nose kept smelling him, sweet and musky, adding to your already overwhelmed arousal, His taste reminiscing on your tongue, Your eyes locked in his cocks and how these disappeared into you, taking you to a new level of pleasure you'd never thought reaching. And hearing his growls everytime you clenched around him made you reach your second orgasm right away, despite him just starting using you.

"Pathetic" He sneered

His thrust increased in strength, making you spill out broken pleas and incoherent mumblings. The rough friction felt like nirvana itself. Overstimulation was devastatingly delicious.

Hands turned your convulsing form down. Chest flat against the floor, your arms were restrained behind your back by his demonic hand, and your plump ass, up, awaiting to be ruined.

You took a look at the hooded figures, none of them were looking, but they kept kneeling and chanting like their lives depended on it.

The new stretch on both your holes made your eyes roll back and your jaw to slack.

An array of lewd curses flew out your moaning mouth. His cocks fought for which hole came first. Your sobs choked and were replaced by mild grunts and screams as your body lurched forward at the force his god like body exerted on you.

Bot of your holes were shaped into his girths, stretching and welcoming him despite their continuous bullying.

The back of your thighs tainted red by the rough slaps and thrusts.

Another orgasm for you. Both holes clamped and creamed around him, his cue for giving you a little break that didn't last much as he laid on his back and sheathed you ontop, earning a weakened and shivering scream from you.

"I can't!" The hands held you again, helping your hips to move up and down as they spreaded yours ontop of his thighs.

A frown came into his face, with a swift movement of his hands, he made the summoned limbs to sheathe you faster and rougher. Your slick rolling down his thighs. His hand pulled your hair down as you wailed like a banshee in need.

As much as you wanted to close your legs, it was impossible. Pleasure turned borderline painful as his other hand squeezed your throat. The asphyxia only increased the brain splitting sensations.

The demon king only laughed with sultry mockery at your state. He wasn't even half satisfied, and you were already losing your mind.

What was it? Four? five? The clenching and sobbing from you just confirmed the fifth one.

"Giving up so soon?"

This time, he cradled you into his arms and summoned a throne. A throne where he'd sit down and sunk you once more ontop of him.

You shook your head vehemently, trying to get away. Your arms were numb behind your back. Both holes deliciously stretched, empty and a tired face Miguel still found amusing and endearing as to how you reacted.

He was holding back after the third orgasm. Humans felt always welcoming. But you, you felt heavenly.

So tight and delicious. A need he had to sate every year. The past tributes were outright awful. You had been entertaining him for quite a while now.

His free hand cupped your cheek before his lips crashed onto yours. He moved his hips in a slow motion, trying to give your raving a pause as he took his time in exploring your mouth with his own and his tongue.

Your moist muscle opposed little at the slithering and coiling one that had you breathless in matter of seconds. Your body glistened in sweat. Hair strands etched to your neck, super back and cheeks. Flushed flesh and a dumb gone look that made you even more worthy to look at.

He had ruined you. And it was time to reward your outlasting.

His lips let you go and his hips began moving once more. You couldn't even utter a proper word. Voice hoarse and raspy. Mouth dry.

As he kept pounding and relishing your broken body, you couldn't help but collide against his chest and arch your back, creaming at the base of his first cock as your ass squeezed his second

He took a fistful of your front strands and seized your face as pleasure flooded your senses once more.

"Eyes on me, wench"

Miguel commanded despite your obvious struggle to remain conscious. His pace increased and so did your panting.

Breast bounced mercilessly at his rutting, his lips came closer to yours, you moaned into each other's mouths, before his moved to your neck.

He whispered and groaned things in that ancient language before kissing your tender flesh and biting with his fangs. Marking you as you came with a weakened yelp.

His hand let your arms go to then secure you in a tight embrace while growling and plowing deep enough to have thick spurts of his seed painting your tight and sore walls.

You had achieved what no other lamb had. You had appeased him.

For now.

#king miguel #Miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #demon king #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #t writes✨#spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

ur james roommate fic (amazing btw) just gave me an idea

what about pre relationship marauders and there all roommates or something or maybe just one of them a roommates with reader but they all like her and they are all watching a movie like “hey were is she” and one of them answers oh she’s just gone round her mates for a film night or something

then a few hours later she comes stumbling in drunk in a tight as hell dress and heels and they get shocked cause she’s normally so quiet and now here she is giggling and making all these jokes and she was out at a club and who is the lady???

if not that’s totally fine bae 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: intoxication

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 967 words

“Think we ought to check up on her?” James asks halfway through the film.

Remus doesn’t need to ask who he’s talking about. “Why?”

“It’s getting late.” James frowns out the window, where darkness has well and truly settled. “She’s never out this late. Wouldn’t we be pretty shit roommates if she was dead in a ditch somewhere and we didn’t even know?”

“What the hell do you plan to do, Prongs,” Sirius drawls, “send out a search party? It’s hardly eleven.”

James looks like he’s thinking a search party’s not such a bad idea. “She said she was going to her mate’s place, and I’m pretty sure it’s book club night. Maybe they’re just going late.”

Sirius scoffs. “You mean to say that on a Saturday night, she got so caught up talking about books that her meeting ran long?” He shakes his head, but his smile is fond. “What a fuckin’ nerd.”

Remus cocks an eyebrow, jutting his chin toward the television. “We’re in on a Saturday night. What does that make us?”

James laughs as Sirius huffs, crossing his arms as he leans back against the couch. “Least we’re not talking about books.”

By the time they finish their film, each of the boys is dead tired. Still, no one argues when James proposes starting another, an unspoken current of worry keeping them in the living room as the night wears on with no sign of your return.

A couple hours later, James and Sirius have both fallen asleep, James drooling slightly on the top of Sirius’ head, when Remus hears keys in the door. Sirius stirs as your keys twist this way and that. There’s a stream of muffled curse words before you finally get it, the lock sliding free and the door swinging open.

“Merlin,” Sirius breathes at the sight of you, rousing James. Remus is inclined to agree.

You’re in a tiny little dress that Remus would have never been able to picture in your closet, the bodice tight and the hem barely skimming past your buttcheeks. You teeter in the door on high heels like a newborn fawn, unphased as if that’s the way you’ve been getting around all evening. You curse quietly when your shoes make a clacking sound against the floor, reaching down to slide them off. Remus can tell from the way you flex your feet that they’ve been hurting you. You start toward your bedroom cautiously, on tiptoe, and it’s a testament to your unusual state that you don’t notice the boys until you’ve nearly passed them on the couch.

“Oh,” you say, still quiet as though you’re afraid to disturb some unseen sleeper. “You’re up. Hi!”

A laugh bubbles up out of Sirius. “Hi, gorgeous,” he says. “How was your night?”

“Ugh.” You grin, shoulders drooping as your eyes go wistful. “It was amazing. How was yours?”

“Not bad.” Sirius can’t seem to stop smiling, and James is the next of them to find his voice.

“Angel,” he says, blinking as though he’s not quite sure he’s actually woken up, “are you drunk?”

You go shy, and Remus’ heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness at the sweet sheepishness that touches your smile. “Just like, a tiny little bit,” you giggle, like you think you might get in trouble and are thrilled with your rebellion.

James shakes his head at you, mystified, and Remus scoots over, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “C’mere, love, talk to us for a bit.”

You’re happy to comply, though not quite as happy as Sirius when you stumble on your way over and he gets to put his hands on your hips, guiding you to a sitting position. You cross your legs under you, and James flushes as each of the boys try to look anywhere other than your exposed underwear. You lean your shoulder into Remus slightly; he leans back.

“What’d you get up to tonight?” He raises his eyebrows, delighting when you blush. Your lipstick has worn down to the liner, and you’ve got some sort of dark makeup smudged beneath your eyes. It takes everything in him not to brush his finger under your lashes and fix it. “We thought it was book club night.”

“No, we pushed that ‘til tomorrow,” you say. “Tonight was real club night.” You let out a little laugh, and Remus grins more because of that than the joke itself.

“I didn’t know you liked going out,” James says. “You haven’t done it in all the time we’ve lived here.”

You make an incredulous sound. “Sure I have.”

James’ eyebrows shoot straight up to his hairline. “When?”

You shrug. “I mean, not all the time. Once a month, maybe.” Your lips curve upward in a look Remus has never seen on your face before. It’s making it difficult to breathe. “What, you just always assume I’m in my room if you don’t see me leave? S’that it?”

“Sorta,” James mumbles, and Sirius grins at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and stealing you from Remus.

“We’ll be more careful not to underestimate you in the future, sweet thing,” he promises, eyes half-lidded in that way that always reduces you to a blushing, stuttering mess.

You don’t seem affected this time. “Good,” you reply, batting your lashes at him. Sirius blanches.

James laughs at him. “Alright, I’ve got to see you in action,” he declares. “If we go out next weekend, will you come with us?”

You tilt your head consideringly. “Sure,” you say, “but I don’t think many guys are going to come up to me if I’m with you lot. You’ll scare them all away.”

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah, I’d fucking hope so.”

“That’s alright, love,” Remus says. “We’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

(cont)

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