#mars writes

Skipping through the halls of Auradon Prep was a regular routine; Wake up, get ready, hop, skip and jump to class.

Your whimsical personality didnt have a care in the world as you hopped your way to class but that whimsy absolutely shattered once you bumped into one of the most rumoured and well known VK's, son of Maddox Hatter,

Max Hatter.

It took you a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened but you snapped out of your daze once you realised you had fallen over and a very upset Max Hatter was yelling at you.

"Are you fucking KIDDING ME? Watch where you're going cotton tail!" Max shouted, your eyes had grown wide and a nervous grin appeared on your face, this isnt a great first impression to the most rumoured guy in school.

"Ha! Oh my hex! Im so so so sorry!" You stammered, struggling to get words out. You gathered your things that had fallen out of your bag and stood up, dusting off your outfit.

Max had glared at you the whole time but as you stood up he realised he caused such a scene and classmates had already been staring and whispering. " Ugh, it's alright just watch where the hex you're going next time, Fluffy. "

You tilted your head confused, correcting him with your actual name, introducing yourself as the White Rabbits Daughter. He blinks once, twice. " Do you even realise I'm mocking you? " He questions. Your brain seems to be loading slowly as the expression of realisation washes over your face.

"Ooh..OH! Haha! I thought it was just a cute nickname! I was about to call you one!" You giggle. A hue of pink blushes his face. " Other than Max do NOT call me any nicknames. Now get out of my way and STAY out of my way" He glares at you.

" I'll try! But y'know I'm always a shake of a rabbit's tail away! " You wave him off politely, skipping away again to class, back in your whimsy world. Max is left stunned, still pink in the face. He slowly turns back to his group of VK's who he completely forgot were watching that whole scene unfold.

The Smee twins and Felix were snickering and pointing at his blushed face while Hazel smacked all three at the back of their heads, though she had a smirk of her own on her face.

"Never thought I'd see you blushing for an HK." Hazel wrapped her arm around Max's shoulders as the group walked to class."I AM NOT." Max loudly blurted out, making the students in the hallway stare at him again.Hazel sighs. "We all know you are, including you. Lets go to class before we're late or before you cause another scene."

They all head to class, embarrassment hanging over Max's face.

To Be Continued...

Author's Note! - Whew...first fanfic ever! I never expected Max to be the first guy to get my writing skills outta me. I hope yall enjoy this and let me know if you want another part! Leave suggestions too! I'd love to hear reccommendations and help is defo needed for my first fic!!!

"m'not sleepy..." you mumble, futilely rubbing the sleep from your eyes as bakugou kneels so he can get a proper look at you. "just resting till you were back. you're the one that needs sleep."

"sure you're not sweetheart," a little breath puffs out of bakugou's nose.

"just get into bed now," you say, grabby arms outstretched.

"i'm not ruining the sheets," bakugou says, his gloves and boots were removed at the door. "wanted to head straight home, have to shower."

"oh please..." you're much more awake than before. "you never get all that black gunk off your eyes anyways."

you outstretch a hand to rub a finger on the thin skin just below his eye and above his cheekbone. katsuki has already attempted to get most of his eye-black off. "that's a really nice smoky eye. what's your technique?" his breath puffs into your hand again before he presses a kiss to your palm.

"shower," he says, standing back up from his kneeling position on the floor.

"it looks real sexy on you..." you continue. "like batman or something. robert pattinson batman."

bakugou just shakes his head as he walks to your bathroom, but you can tell that the tips of his ears have gone red hot. it's no surprise that the bathroom door closes with what could easily be accused of a slam at this hour of night (morning).

it's less of a struggle to keep your eyes open when you know your boyfriend is just on the other side of a door. he isn't standing on top of roofs or hiding in alleyways. he's just unwinding in your bathroom. steam rolls from under the door's crack. the caramely musk of his sweat combined with the spicy clove of his aftershave. when the fan in the bathroom turns on, you know he's finished.

bakugou leaves the door open as he walks back into your bedroom, something he harps on regarding moisture and proper bathroom care and avoiding mold. he squeegees the damn glass on your shower every time he uses it. the mirror too if it needs it.

"mmph," you mumble into your pillow. you can't see him, but he's clearly hovering over something. you haven't felt the bed dip, signalling him finally crawling under the covers with you. the indignity. "mmph," you harrumph into your pillowcase again.

the second little noise does the trick, a little bump to the mattress from bakugou's shins. "setting my alarm," he grumbles, voice like the first rumbles of a thunderstorm, yet still somehow kind. the beep beep of the changing alarm time repeats.

from your position laying down on your stomach, you hang a hand off your side of the mattress, the other readjusting your pillow under you. your cheek turns away to the wall, staring out the window. the mattress dips. he's sitting. "stupid fucking, piece of shit-"

"just use your phone," you say.

"i've told you, it never wakes me up properly-"

"and you have an afternoon shift anyway," you turn to stare at bakugou's back. "it's 3 a.m. you don't have to be up till past noon."

"... i thought it was wednesday."

"it's thursday baby," you tap his back. bakugou's always ran too hot, maybe a symptom from his quirk. your own personal furnace. it's much too humid for him to be wearing a sleep shirt this time of year. a drop of sweat rolls down the nape of his neck...

"well if that's the case," bakugou begins, his brain needing a moment to reboot with the new information. "i guess that means i get to sleep in."

he swings his legs under the covers, digital alarm clock abandoned on his night stand. he'll wake up whenever his body decides to wake him up. with at least ten hours before he has to be at work, the rigidity of an alarm isn't necessary today.

both of you turn off the lamps on your night stands in an instant, the bright neon and LED's from outside sneaking through your sheer curtains instead. you lay on your side facing the wall again, content to just feel how the mattress feels different with bakugou beside you. shadows dancing on the walls from cars still passing by, with the summer humidity still feeling ever present despite your apartment's recently upgraded central AC.

a hand sneaks under your tank top, resting just above your navel.

"... yes?" you try to hide the amusement in your voice. the hand rubs back and forth, hard callouses feeling rough against your skin.

"just wanna feel you..." bakugou places a kiss against the back of your neck.

it's the kind of sincere and almost silent devotion that drops a pit into your throat. you feel bakugou's forehead drop down to where his lips just were, resting. his hand migrates lower, going behind your back and over the swell of your ass instead, under your sleep shorts. he never gropes, just searches, letting himself feel your thighs and your back and your stomach and your ass and back up and down again, and again, and again, and again. he's a cartographer and you're his latest map.

you can't bear it.

you flip to your other side, facing bakugou. the guilty hand rests on the curve of your waist. to anyone else, you're sure bakugou's face would look stoic. the same RBF that the media loves to claim that he has, staring down his partner in such a tender moment. but there's that softness in his eyes. his lips seem fuller than usual, on the brink of a half smile.

"careful..." you manage to swallow. god, he just looks so soft. "might lull me to sleep like that."

"that's kinda the goal, honey," and there's that smile. dear god. a little crook to the right side of his lips and a flash of a canine. katsuki licks his lips. you can't bear it.

your arms circle around bakugou's neck, bringing him lower so he can rest on your chest. everyone thinks that bakugou's hair is spiky, and to an extent it is. many a time, you've helped him gel it up before he heads out on patrol, not quite full liberty spikes, but certainly giving him an edge. but you get to feel his hair after a fresh shower, no doubt after bakugou has dried his hair so thoroughly with a towel it sticks up with static. what was once spiky tickles your chest, neck, and chin.

"love when your hair is fluffy like this," you say before you bend your neck slightly to press a kiss to the crown of his head. bakugou digs his fingers into your back, nails pressing through the fabric of your tank top. you get a kiss on the swell of each of your breasts for your compliment. he gets head scratches in return.

"i like touching you," bakugou mumbles into your boobs. "i like..." he pulls away to sigh. to look at you. he shakes his head.

"... yeah?" you cup his face with one of your hands. bakugou nods. "missed me that much, huh?"

god he's so soft. he's the softest and you're one of the only ones who know. he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand again. "always miss you."

"you're gonna kill me," you say. stone fruit pit stuck in your throat again.

bakugou stays silent for a moment. watching you like a hawk. probably (definitely) seeing the tears prick up in the corners of your eyes. he presses a kiss to your forehead before closing your eyes for you.

The Commander had defeated the King’s army, and his victory came with a prize: the King’s beautiful daughter, the princess of a Kingdom that was no more.

Through the bars of her narrow prison cell, he eyed her like a predator zeroing in on his prey, hungry to sink his teeth into that soft, untouched flesh.

“Pretty thing,” he almost growled at the sight of his bounty.

Her voice was barely a murmur when she replied, “I want to go home.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Princess.”

You no longer have a home to go back to. This is your new home.

She’d fought back valiantly when they’d chained her and taken her away, but that was days ago. There was no force left in her to protest: she sat there, slumped against the brick wall, her eyes welling up.

“Don’t cry, princess,” he cooed, reaching through the bars to stroke her cheek. She startled at the touch, but couldn’t escape it, given the size of the cell. “I won’t hurt you. I like to play with my toys, not break them.”

The Commander was a man of many dichotomies. His features were handsome—they reminded her of the men who’d asked her father for her hand in marriage before her world crumbled—but his blue eyes were cold, with something almost twisted in them. His palm was warm on her cold cheek, but it did not comfort her.

When the Commander’s men appeared behind him and he retrieved his hand, she found herself relieved, but only for a split second.

“Take her to the baths,” the Commander’s cold voice ordered the soldiers, “she’s in need of one. Then bring her to my chambers right after.”

“Shall we ask the help to fetch a clean dress, sir? Her dress is torn—”

The Commander was striding towards the door. With his back to them, he raised a hand, and the soldier fell silent instantly. “She will not need one.”

It fully dawned on her then: the fact that she was not just like any prisoner of war.

Her cell was unlocked, and the soldiers handed her to the Commander’s maids, where she was stripped of her torn, smudged dress—the last item that connected her to her old home—and then submerged in warm, soapy water, scrubbed down, prepared in all sorts of ways for what came next.

The days she’d spent locked up in that cell may have dulled her spirit, but now, reinvigorated by the bath, she didn’t hesitate to squirm and fight back as the soldiers delivered her to the Commander’s bedchamber. They tightened their hold on her arms in an attempt to keep her still, but she enjoyed one small victory when she managed to bite the hand of whoever was trying to muffle her. He hissed and let out a curse.

“There’s the little spitfire,” the Commander cooed mockingly. “I was wondering where she’d gone.”

“Fuck you!” she spat out.

“Restrain her,” he commanded. There were leather handcuffs already dangling from the bed canopy. “She needs a lesson in obedience.”

His voice sounded almost bored, like her act of rebellion did not faze him at all. He’d dealt with plenty of girls like her who thought they could rebel: he already knew how little it took to bend them to his will.

With her wrists tightly bound above her head, she had nowhere to go. She could only try to kick, but her attempts soon failed when the Commander, likely predicting it, grabbed her ankles and tied one to each bedpost, ensuring she was still and spread open in front of him.

“There we go,” he said, eyeing her languidly. “It’s a shame we needed to tie you all up to get to this point, but I’m sure you’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to slit your throat at the first chance I get,” she hissed, staring daggers at him.

Realistically, she didn’t know how she’d even manage that, considering they’d taken away the blades she always kept strapped to her thigh when they’d taken her, but she could probably find another way. With her nails, maybe. Or her teeth.

“No, you won’t,” he sentenced. “You’ll soon learn that doing what you’re told is what is most beneficial to you, Princess. No need to worry: you’ll do that willingly in no time.”

“The hell I will.”

A challenge. The Commander never backed out from one. He flashed a wicked smile.

“You’ll come around. I assure you.”

*

Other than a powerful and efficient army, their Kingdom boasted highly advanced technology, developed by brilliant minds that were second to none in the entire Continent.

Many of their inventions were publicly celebrated for moving society forward through advancements in areas such as agriculture, transportation and medicine, but it was those belonging to the realm of carnality that received the highest of praises, albeit only behind close doors.

The Commander was notorious for keeping up to date with these technologies.

The latest talk of town was a machine they called a Sybian, taking its name from an ancient city notorious for the decadence of its people. The contraption almost resembled a horse’s saddle, except for the phallic-shaped appendage which stood right in the middle, powered by a long-lasting battery. There were multiple appendages available, all of varying sizes, making it possible to equip the machine according to taste.

He’d made this purchase over two months prior, and he had yet to find a way to test it—until now.

Around thirty minutes had passed since she had been presented to him. The Commander sat behind his heavy mahogany desk, working silently on urgent paperwork, but the room wasn’t silent at all.

“Ah—hah—”

The Commander continued writing the letter he was currently working on, without even sparing her a glance. He wasn’t totally unaffected, though: his cock had been fully hard in his slacks ever since the Sybian had drawn the first moans out of her.

Not yet, he reminded himself.

“Oh-h—fuck—you!”

“I suggest you watch your mouth, unless you want to spend all night like this.”

It was an empty threat: he knew he would be shoving himself inside her long before sunrise.

“Hnngh!”

“It must be torture, is it not?”

He picked up the remote control and turned the vibration of the Sybian to a higher setting. The scream that she let out was absolutely agonizing, proof of how badly she needed more. But the Princess was as stubborn as she was beautiful: those thirty minutes spent on the Sybian hadn’t been enough to make her admit it.

“And yet, all you have to do to get that sweet release you’re craving—” he turned the power back down once he could sense that she was close— “is beg, my pet. It’s that easy.”

Her frustrated whimper at the loss of stimulation was music to his ears. He pictured her all flushed, tears running down her rosy cheeks. His cock throbbed at the thought. He didn’t look up yet.

A half hour hadn’t been enough to turn her docile, but as the minutes rolled by she was clearly getting more and more desperate. The fire behind her insults was beginning to wane, making her lose her edge.

It was such an interesting case to observe, such a mesmerizing sight. It usually took much longer for his captives to completely give themselves over to him, to turn from hot-tempered to obedient, but this Princess was seemingly about to set a new record. The Sybian had proved itself to be quite a wonder.

He continued working on his correspondence, occasionally alternating between higher and lower vibration settings to keep her from reaching her peak. He was still trying not to look up, until a squelching sound forced him to take a look.

The Princess was no longer pretending she didn’t want it: she’d started to bounce herself on the Sybian, as much as her restraints allowed her. Her back arched delightfully as she tried to get the appendage deeper inside her cunt. It was quite an endeavour, given the size of the phallic-shaped appendage that he’d purposefully picked—one of the largest ones, but still smaller than his own cock, so that he could watch her struggle trying to sit on it while still being able to feel himself stretch her tight little pussy even further once he finally penetrated her.

He’d waited long enough. He set aside the letter he was currently writing and got up, walking towards the bed to feast on the sight that awaited him.

She’d clearly lost a lot of energy fighting back, and now the ropes keeping her arms tied above her head seemed the only thing keeping her upright. She wasn’t moving her hips too fast, but she moved with purpose, chasing an orgasm that still evaded her. He glanced down at where the appendage stretched her cunt: she was dripping so much that the contraption almost glistened with it, and the squelching noise it made, discernible over the buzz of the machine, was positively obscene.

When the Commander came to stand right in front of her, she looked at him with clouded eyes and dilated pupils. A dumbed out slut, just like he knew she could be.

“You’ve finally mellowed out, hmm?”

She let out a weak whimper.

“Hah—”

He took pity on her and untied her ankles from the bedposts; having regained partial freedom, she sluggishly dragged her legs so that she was on her knees and began riding the Sybian with more momentum, the squelching noise getting even louder, whimpering shamelessly each time she sank down on the appendage.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Princess?”

“Mmh—hnngh—”

She began grinding on the attachment rather than bouncing on it, and his hungry eyes followed the circular movement of her hips.

“Use your words, Princess.”

He filled both hands with the warm weight of her breasts, fondling them a little before playing with her nipples. She shivered and let out a mewl.

Then, finally: “P-Please…!”

Her voice cracked a bit towards the end. She sounded exhausted.

“Please what?”

“Please—let me.” She gulped. “Let me c-come.”

“You’ll either come on my cock or not at all, my pet. You know what you have to say.”

Her frustrated whine made him chuckle. “P-Please, please, f—hhm—fuck me—fuck me!”

He smiled. “I told you you’d come around, Princess.”

He switched the Sybian off, and the room fell quiet without the buzzing of the machine. She whined: whether it was in frustration for having lost the stimulation of the vibration or relief because her aching cunt was finally getting some respite, he couldn’t say. The Commander lifted her off the machine, and the appendage slipped out of her folds with a wet pop.

Her hole was pink, wet and aching. Slightly gaping. Perfectly inviting.

“I’ve been looking forward to this moment.” He untied her wrists, knowing she was no longer in a position to rebel, and she fell back on the mattress with a thud. “I’ve guided an army, fought valiantly—” he unbuckled his belt, holding her gaze as she gulped, frozen— “and now I shall finally enjoy the prize of my victory.”

He exposed himself to her. The Princess from an hour earlier would have kept her thighs close and made a biting remark, but this was a Princess that the sweet torture had rendered pliable and obedient, and so her legs fell open without even having to be told.

Her wetness coated his length as he slid it up and down her folds, earning more pathetic whimpers from her.

“Yes, my pet. See how much prettier you look when you give yourself over to pleasure rather than resisting it?” The large tip of his cock caught her rim and she squirmed. “Shh. Be a good girl and stay still.”

He gripped her slender hips firmly and pushed his entire length inside, breaching her in one go. His grunt almost drowned out her gasp.

“Yes,” he exhaled. “Oh, Princess, this cunt is divine.”

It was just as he’d imagined it, if not better. Despite the hour she’d spent being impaled by the large appendage of the Sybian, she was still impossibly tight, pulsating around him as she struggled to adjust to his massive size.

He couldn’t help but let out a satisfied groan: hers was truly unlike any cunt he’d tried before. This kind of conquest far outshined that of her whole kingdom, delighted him in a way that expanding his territories couldn’t.

Being the first man to sink between this Princess’ legs: that was the real victory.

“There you go,” he cooed as she whimpered, fisting the sheets underneath her. She looked so small compared to him: it was crazy to think that his whole massive cock was stuffed inside such a tiny cunt. “Such a sweet, delicate body.” He started thrusting, gently at first, then his pace got more frenzied. “Perhaps I ought to make you my bride.” He kept his eyes focused on where their bodies were joined, listening to the clicking sound that each thrust produced from how wet she was. “Yes, I ought to make you my bride—mmh. You’re at just the right age to be a wife, are you not, Princess?”

Despite her almost drunken state, images of her suitors, bowing before her, bringing her flowers, kissing her hand, flashed before her eyes. It felt like a lifetime had passed.

“Pretty—young—thing,” he grunted, marking each word with a solid thrust. “Yes, you will be my wife, and then I shall breed you…”

“Ahh—mmh!” she moaned. “Yes!”

“Sweet girl, you don’t even know what you’re saying yes to, do you?” he chuckled, folding her legs to her chest in order to sink even deeper. He brought his face close to hers. “But it doesn’t matter—you shall carry my heir inside you, Princess.” He licked the shell of her ear, and she shivered again. “Mmh, yes—together we’ll start a new era in both of our histories, an era in which our Kingdoms are united…”

“Ah—hah—”

Her orgasm felt earth-shattering and never-ending. He felt her flutter around him for what seemed like an eternity, and that’s when he followed suit, filling her with ropes after ropes of his seed. It was a delight to watch it drip out after he’d pulled out, and the sight of her red, stretched, used hole drove him even wilder. He threw a glance at the spherical shape of the bedpost, and it gave him a devious idea.

“Still hungry, Princess? Was my cock not enough?”

He picked up her small, limp body, and lowered her down on the bedpost. It seemed impossible that it could work, it was thicker than his cock, thicker than any of the appendages that could be mounted on the Sybian, but she surprised him: she took it beautifully, just like his cock earlier, and mewled in ecstasy as he bounced her up and down on it.

As for the Commander, he felt like he’d descended into madness. He’d just conquered a powerful Kingdom and their Princess along with it. Between her legs, he just had a taste of what Heaven felt like. Now that she was letting him use her body in such a way, he let his imagination run wild: he fantasized about sitting her down on anything remotely phallic-shaped, from the bedpost to a bottle to the shower head. He fantasized about penetrating her with his cock while simultaneously using the Sybian.

He even fantasized about calling some of his fellow men to try her out, so that he could watch her get fucked by multiple cocks at once. Mike’s cock was just as thick as his, and he was curious to find out whether she’d be able to take them both. Or perhaps he should call Levi up first, get her acquainted with the idea with a cock whose size isn’t as intimidating. But he reckoned that she’d be able to take all of them, eventually, in all the holes that her body offered.

Fueled by his fantasies and the pretty sounds she made, he took her off the bedpost and positioned her on all fours, ready to fuck her again as many times as he saw fit, because she was his prize.

*

It’s funny, because I actually believe that Erwin cannot call you a slut in bed without feeling super guilty about it. Imagine:

“Erwin. I want you to pretend you’re the Commander of a powerful army who just conquered a kingdom, and I’m the helpless princess you’ve just taken as a prisoner of war—”

“A prisoner? But honey, that’s so degrading—”