#what happens when it's kinda hot

[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟓 | 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Two warriors with nowhere to let their adrenaline– two Alderans melting like beeswax and forgetting not to touch. Two of you, just the two of you, breathing."

slight cw drunken antics + slurred speech. shoestring patience. you are the only sober two left and carrying your friends to bed requires teamwork. remembering how to speak and pretending not to stare even though exhaustion makes Alderan eyes prettier. the first laughs– warm and uncontrollable. a quiet realization at the foot of the bed where your bodies keep curling closer 3.9k

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The Great Hall vibrates the entire castle tonight. The celebration is obscene. The king is home.

You do not eat in the Hall, you never do, but you stand guard– sit guard from the grand staircase outside just in case. Music rolls through the closed Hall doors up to the entryway's silver constellations. The observatory is finished. The king is home. He does not attend his own banquet tonight and so you do not worry for your company inside. How did he never occur to you? He who built the garden prison for his wife and made it so that there is nowhere to properly hide in Takoba. It’s probably because you’re Alderan that you don’t think much about kings.

If only just until you are found, you will sit on these frosty steps, obscured by their size, and watch the stars twinkle through the widow behind them. It is as tall as they are. This view must be older than this family is because someone built it with love. Because there is nothing behind this part of the castle except for glass and stars and sea.

You smile and long for your oak tree and then smile softer. The muscles in your back ache with overuse, your shoulders too. Sparring with the prince is like dancing.

“Y/n.”

Your head snaps up at the voice from where it had started to slouch with sleep and like a dream your prince is standing at the foot of the staircase. He’s in fine Alderan gold. Did he come through the Hall? How could you doze through the sound of that door opening? Bakugou cocks his head which shakes his ash hair right over his eyes and sends a long red earring to rest soft across his jaw. All you have is moonlight to see him glow.

He hesitates before speaking again, “Is this where you like to hide?”

“You’re one to talk about hiding,” you tease because you are sleepy and lacking basic judgment, and his flinch is hardly hidden, even in the absence of candlelight.

“I need your help.”

If you weren’t awake before you are now, judgment back squarely in place as you skip steps in your hurry to be beside him. Bakugou pulls the air with his temples to lead you to the Hall, boots clicking, hands stiff. Laughter and music vibrates from inside.

“Wait here,” he grumbles and pushes open the door enough to slip through, perfectly enough for the fat wave of alcohol to make you wince. The sound pushes you physically backward a step and your eyes can’t adjust fast enough to stop from squinting, but you can’t help watching even half blind and only mostly awake. It’s only been a few hours but people are standing together on tables in their beautiful frilly clothes, screaming the words to a song no one seems to know. A sea of crowds cheer them on from below, equally as drunk, and the scene stretches on from wall to wall. Line dancing between benches, liquor across the floors and a whole room of joy– Sero is linked arm in arm with two waitstaff at the back of the room, kicking their legs and laughing together at their lack of coordination.

You chuckle before you can think to be weary of so many people crammed together. Uraraka, ten feet off the ground, mimes riding a great stallion around the room with a glass of ale in her fist much to the joy of the soldiers sat below her doubled over with laughter. Shinsou’s not far off, surely to keep her from embarrassing the garrison, but his scowling hands are full of Kaminari who can’t quite stand right without the guard’s hand around his waist. You lean in a bit farther. Just a step. At the front of the room, the Todoroki siblings sit bunched at a clean table, quiet but still talking and drinking like the rest. They are delicate and beautiful and you would lament having a father like theirs if you hadn’t just caught sight of your prince at the table beside them.

He needs help– did something happen? He disappeared this afternoon after the mess in the soldiers’ quarters, is he injured? Is someone else?

Bakugou is grumpy on the best of days, tonight he is fuming. Mina is limp over his shoulder, squealing, and something’s dragging on the floor behind him. You can’t see anything beneath his hips in this crowd.

“What’re ya laughing at?” He hollers over the lively sea and catches you in a stare on his march back to the doors. Were you laughing?

Bakugou holds the stare like he’s got something to say all the way back to your side. A band somewhere under the chaos tunes their strings for another round.

“Alderans can’t hold their liquor,” he growls over the threshold, “like a fucking disease.” It’s Kirishima dragging on the floor behind him. The prince has his champion in a chokehold by the back of the collar. He leans over to drop Mina on the floor, “They’re gone. Can’t go a second without tryin to eat each other’s faces off.” Mina shrieks when she’s plopped to the floor.

He rolls his eyes when he gestures to the pile of drunkards at your feet, “I can’t carry them both upstairs.” Then runs one hand through his hair and flexes the other on his hip to assess the situation. Kirishima drools.

“Miss Mina,” you whisper and crouch in front of her, “can you hold onto me?”

She blinks one eye at a time and grins, “an’thing fr’ pretty lady.”

Kirishima is less lucky, slung across the prince’s shoulders like a training dummy. At least he’s docile. Mina giggles and reels backward every chance she gets from her spot on your back. She squeezes your waist with her thighs and the pressure keeps making you wheeze.

“Ticklish?” Bakugou grunts under the deadweight of his champion. Something catches in his throat and you struggle to keep your head on the hallway ahead instead of checking what kind of face he might be making. He is framed by stars in every window. He glows at the edges in the moonlight. You are ticklish, he knows that.

It’s the four of you trudging through the castle, getting your hair pulled at odd intervals and trying to breathe in the opposite direction of your inebriated company. Kirishima keeps stretching out of his fireman’s hold and with a crackling bark from your prince, ends up halfway down his back. He narrowly catches you when Mina tries to lean back on a staircase, your hands tight under her thighs and the front of your tunic tight in Bakugou’s fist. You would like to laugh. You’re not sure you don’t, but Bakugou doesn’t pause to revel in stupidity with you.

He stays frustrated and silent and you remember dusk bedtimes at camp. Time passed frowning on carriages. Trying as hard as he is now not to look at you. It is easy to hate him.

You might have lost your fury, but your job isn’t lost to you. You haven’t forgotten your responsibility to your kingdom. Protect her son and serve the queen and keep your place in the castle. Don’t kill the King of Takoba. Mina doesn’t weigh much and she keeps the cold away, one foot in front of the other. Bakugou’s golden hair rustles with each step beside you and his biceps, frustrated, flex around Kirishima’s legs. It’s easy, so easy, so much safer to hate him and you just can’t remember how. 

Your drowsiness vanished with adrenaline and when adrenaline vanished there wasn’t anything left in its place, it would be awfully easy for something to slip inside.

“She didn’t understand,” you murmur hardly loud enough to hear. Mina twirls your hair.

Even for all his stoicism tonight, the prince still rumbles an, “eh?” into the corridor. Maybe he rolls his eyes? Regardless, he doesn’t stop marching with his barely-conscious cargo.

You murmur again, “Shuzenji.” And he stumbles a bit. His champion is too heavy. “When I thanked her for the room.”

Something inside him shifts beside you– you can hear it, just there under his ribs– like the crumbling of a campfire. He’s looking at you now so you remind yourself not to turn and stare. You smile. It’s getting easier.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t bother.”

“For saving me.”

It’s the two of you walking side by side, failing impossibly. Trying hard not to watch one another.

“Repaying a debt.”

Blood bursts gently under the skin. And you can no longer speak without the smile, no matter how hard you try to tuck your chin into the bundle of Mina’s fingers at your collarbones.

Jeanist and your oak tree, Mitsuki at midnight, how many people can you say fill you with ease?

Bakugou is holding his breath but being here is still easy. Walking is easy. Mina is slipping a bit to the side. Standing close to him is warm, not arson. Sparring with him has made the air too thin and if you’re not careful you’ll touch him again. He’s buckling under the weight of something and you think maybe one of you needs to be tense for the other to know peace–

A clap explodes through the chill of the nighttime castle and your heart pops, a quiet overflow, at the immediate need to account for one thousand things, surroundings, threat, variables, full arms, Bakugou, a pantry staircase, the dark, and when you jolt to fix Mina back upright, she resists. Her hand is planted firmly on the meat of your prince’s ass, where she made good on a t-up to slap him as hard as you’ve ever heard anything hit. He’s frozen. You spit. There’s nothing for it.

As you sink to your knees, her palm leaves a grip in the crease of his trousers and you can barely keep her attached to you with one hand, the other muffling your laughter.

“Attaboy,” Mina groans across your shoulder.

It happens so much faster than you’d expect. But of course he must love them this much for a reason– Bakugou’s lips burst apart in a puff and one rich chuckle breaks the surface. He doesn’t hide it this time. It is flint and tinder. You turn up to him with startled eyes and his smile might be the sun; it’s hardly there and he can’t hide it, doesn’t– he can’t and he doesn’t even try. Yours hasn’t fallen and you don’t think you could force it down for anything.

“dn’t tell kiri.”

Mina’s last words come before either of you try to look away from the other, and modesty evaporates. Bakugou’s grin erupts across his face and you disintegrate fully in hysterics on the rug. He tips his head back and roars.

His laugh is a bonfire, you can hardly hope to hear it and ever calm down, you will laugh together like this until you die surely. He stumbles in his giddiness and backs against the walls to support Kirishima’s weight– Kirishima who wheezes between the chill of the marble and the body of his friend. Tears shine in four Alderan eyes. Mina growls at your jostling. Your hands are stuck firmly to the ground to keep you both from falling over but, surrendering, she lets her fingers slip limp from your neck and tips right over sideways, sprawled.

“– wait Mina, fuck, gods–”

All it takes it one fuck to have Bakugou sliding down the wall like a ragdoll, a hand trying to stitch his gut back together. He’s wheezing now too, exhausted. His ears are red. The veins in the back of his fist threaten to spill from how hard he clenches in laughter.

One second of eye contact and you’re both inconsolable again on the ground. He and Kirishima hunched against the wall, you trembling over your lost cargo, “Mina come back,” you urge through gasps and giggles. Every time you look over to Bakugou, another bout of something bubbles up from your heart. It comes out with the laughter you can’t keep down, but they aren’t the same. They can’t be. One is rich and warm, and the other burns like sugar. Like breathing fire.

A foot soldier is not thrilled to find the four of you enjoying yourselves all over her post and doesn’t appear overly excited at the prospect of corralling Alderans to bed. 

“Up,” someone grunts, so much softer than anyone you know. Prince Bakugou has steadied himself on his feet and Kirishima again on his back, and leans over where you’re trying to coax Mina’s arms over your shoulders. He tries to suppress it, but his canines poke sharp out of the corner of a grin. He looms close. Close enough to cast his shadow over you in the moonlight and waft caramel through your hair, “C’mon.”

You would have complied without an argument, if anything failed to contain a chuckle or two, but he doesn’t give you time. Bakugou loops one arm around Mina’s back and your chest and lifts both of you up in an effortless hoist. You rush to grab onto her in the seconds he lets you dangle a few good inches off the ground before setting you down again. He rolls his eyes at the Takoban guard, “Dead on my fucking feet,” and reaches for you to follow. He’s blinking at you like he didn’t just toss three full-grown Alderans around and you’re focusing hard to blink back. Your ears itch with an awful heat.

“Captain,” he looks between the guard– antsy and relieved– and you, and smirks with confusion, “let’s go.”

You hop twice to situate Mina and nod as politely to the guard as you can manage before falling in line beside your prince. Your shoulders bump in the rush. Not-looking was easier before you knew what his smile sounded like.

Mina’s room is in the guest wing, where they house drunk ball guests and foreign diplomats. It’s entirely plain. You ignore a pang of satisfaction at your new bedroom in the highest tower and knock the door open with your hip, boys close behind.

Bakugou hardly waits a second before he dumps Kirishima over his shoulder hard onto a white sofa. They both wheeze, Kirishima more of a subdued misery compared to his prince’s relief and the next sound is a creak not a breath because Bakugou’s feet are heavy on the floorboards when he walks away.

Your friends aren’t lords, but you’re still a soldier. You’ll be gentle. In the dark, you sit at the edge of Mina’s bed and lower her backward into the blankets where she lays, snoring, before you roll her onto her side. It’s pitch black with the curtains drawn, but you know from the silence the prince is long gone.

With a few pillows lined up behind Mina, you rise and make your way to the poor champion in a lump on a sofa much too small for him. You’ll need light for this. The curtains take two hands to tie back; they’re thick for winter weather but when you do, moonlight drowns the room and everyone inside begins to glow. Why are beautiful things here so cold? Your stomach aches from the laughter and you try to be thankful instead of anything else that the prince has gone to bed. This is your job after all. You can’t smell the sea with the windows closed and so it’s almost like being home, dead alone like always.

“What’re you doing?”

Your forehead cracks against the glass in surprise and you turn with both hands pressed hard to your head like you weren’t just falling asleep against the windowpane.

Bakugou raises an eyebrow behind a tall candle and shuts the door behind him. “You know you’re not actually talkin when you stare like that, right?” His grin is more sarcastic than before but no less warm. You gather yourself as the prince sets his candle in a slot beside the door and surveys his company. “Go to bed,” he clucks after a moment of thought.

He crosses the room and inspects three more fat candles melted together on a table in front of the sofa. Kirishima groans. Bakugou pinches a wick. Pink and white burst from under his fingernails and purple crackles under the light his sparks make. Red is next. Pinching, pinching, popping in the dark, until each candle has been lit by the smell of caramel.

He crosses again and lowers himself onto a pile of blankets at the foot of the bed as you watch and remember to speak, “Go.”

“I can’t leave them.” 

“They’re fine.”

“I won’t.”

After weeks of defiance, why does he choose now to smile like that? “You’re a nightmare.” 

“I can’t. If they aspirate–”

“They’ll deserve it.”

“Highness–”

“You think I can’t keep two drunk babies from dying in their sleep?” Bakugou rolls his eyes and finally scoops his chin up to look at you.

Weeks, months– years, of vitriol– and in three nights you’ve forgotten how his lips curl when he stares at something that he hates. How could you think of anything but home when he watches you with all his attention and the warmth of earthenware eyes? How does your heart hold its seams closed?

He will watch over his friends without sleep, he will suffer their boredom in a matchbox carriage so that they can see this ocean he hates so much. He will fight Takobans and diplomats and royalty to keep his party safe, he’ll sit in the kitchens and pluck your splinters instead of attending a feast in his honor and he will throw himself into the sea.

“Y/n.”

“I won’t leave you.”

His flinch would be bright enough to see on a starless night– in the blacks of shadows. You kneel beside the soft spot he’s made for himself at the foot of Mina’s bed and try to remember how easy it was to laugh with him now that the closeness makes your skin prickle at the hair. He clears his throat instead of teasing.

Two warriors with nowhere to let their adrenaline– two Alderans melting like beeswax and forgetting not to touch. Two of you, just the two of you, breathing.

His voice comes and you turn to look because you are incorrigible. His lips are the first thing that catch the light of the stars in the window beyond you. They’re crooked with attitude. He wets them when he’s thinking and they purse to the left as he speaks.

“I,” The sound is gravel underfoot, “I want..”

You hum, confused– exhausted– and he blinks once slowly, something between frustration and thought and the lull of bed, before turning to meet you. This isn’t the closest you’ve ever been. That helps you see him better. A scar you’ve never noticed catches the moonlight and shines in his hairline and you can count the sleep starting to gather in his pretty eyes.

“Yesterday– earlier I,” a shake of his head kills the thought. It’s hard to hear so you’re much too close and when your pinky presses his from how near you are leaning he turns away and frames himself again in starlight like a ruffled hen. “Earlier,” growling now, “Why unarmed?”

“Unarmed what?”

His jaw catches candlelight when he looks to you again so quickly, exasperated but seemingly entertained, “Combat, you oaf.”

“In the soldiers’ quarters?”

Where did the hatred go? There are mosquitoes you haven’t forgiven– is that what this is? Forgiveness. Sitting on your knees like a proper soldier but letting sleep take all other reason away? Pressing closer than you need to hear him because it is autumn in hell and fire radiates from his chest– a longing Alderan fire you lost somewhere in the sea.

Bakugou rolls amused eyes but nods at the question. Forgiveness isn’t right but you can’t move away, you will never be free of him. You will never want to be.

“It’s,” you start, distracted by weariness and the rhythm of Mina’s breathing– footsteps in the castle and a blue tinge on the windows edge like frost– he bumps your shoulder with his. Warmth finally bleeds into you. He watches just as close as you do because you’re both whispering hardly-awake, but his attention is firmly yours. Red flicks from your neck to an ear, and back again. From your eyes to your lips and back again.

“It’s harder to hold back with a weapon.”

He jerks back instead of spitting on you because his laughter comes faster than he can keep it down, but Kirishima groans and candles flicker and you close your eyes to eat the sound of his joy. You’re slipping. You curl towards him and rest your head on the curve of the bed as he regains the parts of himself that will help him sit up. When he faces you again he’s lost his shield and spear. The iron that clenched his jaw and furrowed his brows and slit his eyes and lace his scowl with hatred, gone. All that’s left is lionheart laughter and a fascination with your smile.

Two Alderans melting. Your legs are sliding out from under that proper kneel and his hands are slipping from the fists he tried to knot them in. Bakugou mirrors you when he rests his head on the edge of the mattress because his bonfire is burning down. Mina snores once loudly and startles herself.

“What does aspiration sound like?” Prince Bakugou Katsuki is his mother’s son smiling with a pale moon cheek smushed into the bedding that supports him. Always looking at you. Close enough to hold.

“Like someone choking on vomit.”

He laughs with everything he has left and rolls his face flat into the duvet. Everything he has left isn’t much, maybe just a candle. It’s enough that you’re smiling again in the pool of wax.

He peeks one eye out from the blanket, “Think we’re in the clear?”

He will roar, he will kill for his people and speak to strangers like ants. He will scare children and end wars and infuriate his dressmaker. He will glare. He will let his mages tease him because it makes them happy and he will watch over them when they’re too drunk to stand. He might laugh. Gods please laugh again. He will close every window and throw you a peach and he will make magic because he knows that you love it.

Suddenly it’s easy, not forgiveness, something new. You, spear and shield of the king. Something like devotion.

It’s a horrible thing to sleep on the floor and Bakugou wakes up first, facing the sunrise with your weight on his arm. You, the fierce and deadly dragon. Your cheek is pressed to his shoulder and the pressure makes you pout. Your lips tremble with breath.

He’ll watch your chest rise. He’ll let your fingers curl around his like ivy when he dares to move and he’ll close his eyes for a moment instead of thinking too hard about hunger or the pink scar that pokes out from the neck of your tunic. You will wake up slightly later than dawn, drooling, alone, blankets wrapped warmly around you.

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1 @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl @dreamingoftomorroww @optimisticprime3 @misscaller06 @the-omnipotent-phlowr @king-dynamight @sky-angel101 @rosiejacklyn

could not tag for some reason :(

[urgrossdaughter]

i have an obsession with public groping fantasies recently. i just want my tits to be grabbed, my nipples pinched and pulled and played with. someone to rub their cock on my ass, taking my hand and making me stroke them until they cum, walking around with their cum on me uhdhdbdbdb

[jamieleecvrtis]

The Fall of the House of Usher CARLA GUGINO | The Masque of the Red Death

[bixels]

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.

[t3chborb]

I'm one year older today, so I figured I gotta wrap a present or two~

.

..

...

... Wait...

... I got it backwards, didn't I...

... I'm supposed to be... uhh... the one opening gifts today...

... Oh, how incredibly silly of me...

Welp, I'm sure Ramattra doesn't mind~

[13eyond13]

You know even if L and Light were both extremely heterosexual men, I still don't get how either one of them wouldn't find it alarmingly sexy that the other one was secretly trying THAT hard to constantly impress them and read their mind and personally entertain them and trip them specifically and ONLY them up

[orcelito]

Super sexy me is so sexy I accidentally set off the fire alarm while baking pie shells for my pumpkin pie. And now I don't know if I should've even baked them in the first place. But well. Too late now 👍

[whatudottu]

Do y'all think object heads have a peculiar vision? Well I certainly do!

If DJSS is actually a supernova then assumption probably brings with it the idea they were a star, and being a star where it sends light in every direction and vision is directly correlated to light, what if that means omnidirectional vision?

[im-still-watching-anime]

naruto: wow i’ve had a crush on sasuke this whole time huh?

kakashi: you didn’t realize?? what even goes on in your head?

naruto: i keep telling everyone - not much

sakura: are you sure there’s anything at all going on in there because SERIOUSLY you didn’t realize you liked sasuke??

naruto: if it helps i also didn’t realize you can eat those containers that the ramen comes in until a few years ago!

kakashi: you’ve been eating what—

sakura: we’re going to the hospital. right now.

[haohaobinbin]

Haobin - In Bloom Relay Dance

[nerosdayinanime]

sabito = dirtbike redneck. you cant convince me otherwise

[andsotheuniverseended]

Orimar Vale sir if you happen to be free any night this week i would love to discuss sensory overload and the pursuit of escaping the limits of humanity to become a story that will never die with you

[kuromi-hoemie]

feel like I've genuinely spent at least a quarter of my day too horny to think. i was going to do some kind of art today but I've been thinking about the boy...

[bardicious]

First...

I KNEW IT. FUCK YOU ARMAND.

Second...

Okay, I guess I ship Louis and Lestat now. He won me over with his puppy eyes, sue me. Also now that him and Louis are on a similar page strength and mentally wise, I quite like it. The fact that Lestat mourns his daughter's death is a plus. If he didn't, Id still be pissed off with him.

[dalkyum]

[GOT7 REVIVAL] WEEK 3 ✧ Fav Choreo ↳ Teenager ₊˚✧

[elizabethrobertajones]

I was in such a HW Dragonsong War homoeroticism era haze I had to be reminded I ship my own WoL with Aymeric intensely too, and she also is extremely easy for him to pick up like she weighs nothing.

Halone bless bisexuality.