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thatwasntverycashmoneyofme · 10 months

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𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁

❥𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍 : 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽’𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋.

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒. }

he’s not really surprised that she said it, cuz you say it all the time, calling him a "dumbass/hoe ass nigga" or telling him "nigga shut the fuck up." and aizawa teaching black students (mina and deku) and having a few black coworkers (mirko, rock lock and orca) he hears it all the time himself.

but he’s downright flabbergasted when and how she says it right to his face at that; after you told her to go get her father to come here and yk how kids be, adding extra words nobody told them to say. so your kid stands in front of him with a mischievous smile on her face and glint in her dark brown eyes as she says "mommy said to tell you ‘nigga bring your light bright ass down to the kitchen fo’ you don’t get no damn dinner’ so are you coming daddy?”

and he pauses for a moment having your black mother mannerisms come out of him. “d/n? whatchu just say to me?” she pales a bit “no daddy! that’s what mommy said.” he calls for you yelling your name. "aye y/n cmere!" you shout a "what!" from your place in the kitchen and he repeats himself. the sound of your slippers hitting the tile as you approach your shared bedroom, the anger in your steps ever so evident, belly protruding cause of your second child as you grumble loudly all the way to the door.

"nigga what? i told d/n to come get’chu for a reason na' my damn feet hurt ‘n all I wanted t’ do was cook." you look at him with an attitude hand resting on your wide hip as you leaned on the doorway. "whatchu want shota?" you take in the situation, your husband sitting on the bed a displeased expression on his face and your baby girl got tears welling up in her big brown eyes as she fiddle with her fingers.

"why my baby bout t’ cry?" you walk further into the room standing beside your daughter and in front of aizawa with your arms folded, he rubs on your belly looking up at your frustrated eyes. "’m sorry mama." he kissed your belly. "making you walk all the way back here but what did you tell her to tell me?" you suck your teeth when he kisses your belly again 'ain’t this just what i said earlier??'

sighing out your frustration you continued. "i told her to tell you ‘bring your light bright ass down fore you don’t eat dinner.’ got me walking all up ‘n down this damn house when you know how fat yo’ damn babies are." he rubs you again "’m sorry.. again it’s just your daughter cursing me out." you snicker before he looks at you with dead eyes.

"oh you was forreal? what did she say?" shota and you both look at your five year old her tears still threatening to fall. "tell your mama what you said." she whimpers while repeating what she told her father earlier, it’s a moment or two of silence before you burst out laughing. "fuck i gotta pee ima pee on myself."

you waddled to the bathroom giggling as shota rolled his eyes this is not the right outcome you came out the bathroom wiping the excess water on the cami as tears filled your ducts "’m sorry baby it’s just that shit was too funny." you sat on the bed next to him as you picked up d/n placing her on shota’s lap. "you’re supposed to tell her that she shouldn’t be saying those words at her young age."

you pat his face leaning forward to kiss your daughter on both her chubby cheeks fixing around her bonnet. "those aren’t even the extra bad ones.." you caress her cheek with your thumb. "you know not to say those words to your teachers and the grownups outside the house right? unless they need to hear it.." shota nudges your shoulder and you exclaimed playfully. "what sho i don’t think it’s that serious i think it’s quite hilarious in fact."

he shakes his head from side to side kissing the top of your daughters’ cap "just don’t get used to saying words like that ya’ hear me d/n." she nods her head and y’all stay there for a minute or two loving up on her before you you spoke interrupting the silence. "so baby girl.. say another curse word." "y/n!" you cackle at shota’s face getting ready to get up.

"i’m just kidding.. alright let’s go i wasn’t slavin’ over that hot ass stove for nothin." your daughter jumped off shota’s lap running towards the kitchen. aizawa gets up grabbing you by your hand, pulling you towards him minding your belly, your arms wrap around his shoulders stroking the hairs on the back of his neck as he slaps your ass then grabs it. "she gets it from you ya’ know. you need to stop cursing."

you hum pulling him down kissing him tenderly before pulling away, dragging your hands from his shoulders to pat his chest as you look deeply into his eyes. "i ain’t gotta do a fuck thing.. pretty ass nigga." you peck his lips before waddling away.

you turn your head, sticking your tongue and middle finger out at him before crossing the doorway, your husband shook his head know something like that was coming his way as soon as he said those words. 'these girls are finna be the death of me i hope this next girl isn’t so troublesome.'

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

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ms0milk · 3 months

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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 Hall door enough to slip through and enough for you to wince at the fat wave of alcohol. 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.”

You wide-eye him but nod and 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 firmly 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 like kittens 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. The 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 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 from 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 catches 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 winter 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, but 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. 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 an 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 forces a 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 under 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 :(

#what happens when you realize your previously sworn enemy has stronger morals than god #what happens when it's kinda hot #thank you for all this support as always! i am spoiled by my readers <3 im so so happy you enjoy these two weirdos #a hymn to black water #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #bnha #mha #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #fantasy bakugou x reader #fantasy bakugo x reader

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star-spirit-mayhem · 1 year

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Dabis the type of boyfriend that's shameless about the bathroom. He'll follow you into the bathroom if he's talking to you or when feeling particularly clingy, which is fine if your doing your makeup or any type of care routine cuz if you ask all nicely he'll help you with whatever you're doing weather it be helping with your eyeliner or fixing your hair for you but the fucker also barges in while you're taking a shit just to annoy you or to "wash his hands" like he cant do that in the Kitchen -_- Fucking shameless.

Or when he walks in on you taking a shower, you always freak out a little when you notice him and he's all 'fuckin chill its me, anyway shigaraki's bein a pain in the ass-' and hell just sit on the toilet and rant at you like you're not butt ass naked not three feet from him trying to set soap out of your eyes cuz he distracted you.

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mettywiththenotes · 2 years

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If I had a nickel for every time a villain did all of these, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

#toh #the owl house #toh season 3 #toh season 3 spoilers #thanks to them #bnha #bnha manga spoilers #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #mha manga spoilers #toh spoilers #emperor belos #all for one #mettys posts #metty posts #trying my darndest to avoid spoiling #but really this is getting creepy #philip wittebane #manga spoilers

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nanamimizz · 1 year

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𝐒𝐏𝚶𝐈𝐋𝚬𝐃 𝐑𝚶𝐓𝐓𝐓𝚬𝐍

tags: 18+ minors dni, m!receiving oral, dacryphilia, overstimulation, power bottom aizawa, lamb hybrid reader, established dynamic, cum mentioned, gn reader, aizawa is 5 ish years older than reader

synopsis: shouta does a lot for everyone - all of the time, is it a crime that you want to spoil him when you can?

Shouta doesn’t know what it is that lands him in this position - with you kissing him as if you'd die without a taste of him. He tries to think, which is hard when he can taste the mild sweetness of your chapstick and the mint of your gum - the scent of your perfume floods his mind in some vanilla cinnamon mixture and Shouta can’t tell left from right with all that encompasses you fill him from the inside out. Your tongue makes its way into his mouth and he can see your small fleece tail wagging behind you at the way he moans from how your silken tongue traces the indents of his teeth in the way he likes. His hand settles into your hair, his palm kissing the crest of your head and his fingers intertwine with the soft locks - Shouta could stay an eternity here.

Kissing you, touching you, feeling the swell of your chest pressed against his - his heart races and he wonders if you are like his own aphrodisiac that barely needs to be tasted to send him into overdrive. Neither of you has quirks that allow you to go so long without breathing and so you part ways, and you do so not without sneaking in small kisses in between gasps of breath.

“What’s gotten into you - I thought you were a lamb not some sort of cat,” Shouta asks and he wonders if it’s possible to kiss someone numb. You don’t say anything yet, only burrow your head into his neck and begin to leave another line of your adoration along his flesh.

“Just saw you and I started to want you - couldn’t help myself I guess.” You say, voice soft against his skin and he shivers when you let your teeth nip at his skin - it’s humorous, how some would laugh behind their hands when they see how easily the skilled pro hero Eraserhead crumbles at the slightest of affections from you but it’s really just a testament to how enthralling you are. You could bring any man to their knees with a single soft look and Aizawa Shouta is not strong enough to deny you in any capacity.

“You want me? Just from seeing me?” He asks, and it was meant to be teasing but it sounds like begging, pleading for you and your attention. You nod and you make a soft little sound that drives him up the wall - it’s a cross between a sigh and a whine, it makes him smile to see how it’s not just him that is easily affected by the other’s presence. He makes you pull away by the hand on your head and it makes him tremble in his boots with so much desire and want he doesn’t know what to do when he sees how the black of your dilated pupils has overtaken your irises.

Shouta knows he doesn’t stand a chance against the tidal wave of your wanting.

“You want me - you have me, do whatever you want.” Somehow it’s as if his voice had gotten deeper, darker, and rougher, it makes you tremble as something slick leaks from between your legs. You nod choppily as if your head will fall off if you move it too fast and you press a final kiss to his neck before you fall to your knees. Shouta suddenly doesn’t think he can make it through the night with you looking at him like that. Like he’s everything that ever mattered to you, he put the stars and moon and sun in the sky and here you are ready to offer your thanks. Your hands are on his pants faster than he blinks, tugging at his belt and undoing his pants to take the base of his cock in your hand. It's hard - veins are prominent and flushed a dark red and Shouta wonders in his embarrassment if that same flush can be seen on his chest and face. Your eyes are wide and dark and you look up at him with all the reverence of a lover when you begin to pump at the head of his cock. He hisses and then whines when you bring your hand to the base, keep it there and bring your lips to press a gentle kiss to the weeping head.

Shouta always flinches when it meets with your lips - their softness makes it almost too much at times and that sentiment is strong when you put your mouth to work on him. He groans, openly into the air when you open your mouth to suck at the head of his cock, your chapstick shining against his own pre and he brings a hand to cover his face at the sight of you so openly pursuing his pleasure to the best of your abilities. He almost can’t stand it, knees around buckling when you open your pretty eyes to look up at him as you let his cock out of your mouth with a wet pop. You go to pump it again, and it shucks wetly in the living room of his apartment and if he had more brains than balls right now he’d be embarrassed by the display.

That doesn’t matter, not when he has you like this - pleading for him to let him use you for pleasure, to use your mouth to pry it from his insides like it’s the last thing you will do in your life.

“Please Shouta - I want to make you feel good, I want to please you. Please let me please you.” You speak and the words hang heavy with lovely desperation, it makes him want to take you for himself even if he already has you. His hand that retreated from your head is back, his fingers pinching one of your ears and he rubs the warm skin fondly, affectionately, lovingly and he wonders if you know that you don’t need to ask him for anything. He likes you and your manners, it makes you more charming to him than it should be so he lets it slide as he tells you that you can do anything you want. The words leave him as does the last of his breath when you rush to put his cock in your mouth again.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing is all he can think as you take his cock with a fervor, a need so deep he wonders if it comes from the very pocket of your existence and even as you gag on it; too eager for what you can take still you don’t stop. Your eyes are wide and wet, your eyelashes clump together in a way he can’t help but think of as erotic even if there’s a sense of shame that brews in his belly. He wants to praise you - wants to tell you how pretty you are like this, ears flickering back to your head and how good you are with your sweet little mouth but it all dies upon his lips. His praise feels like dust on his tongue when he feels your hand that had been previously clutching at his trousers now making its way under his pants and it grips what you can’t take.

It feels so good - Shouta knows what this is now, as he stands at the cliff’s edge of pleasure, you are spoiling him, and spoiling him rotten. Your mouth suckles and your hand pumps, Shouta laughs breathlessly as the dam finally breaks and he spills all over you. Your hand gets covered in his cum and some of it leaks down the corner of your mouth. His taste clings to your tongue, salty and thin - something that only tastes of Shouta. You swallow and you laugh when you see how his pale skin is flushed red, he pants like he’s the one that was putting it all into pleasuring the other.

“What…what are you laughing at?” He mumbles, voice rough from the orgasm you pluck from him, back aching from its arch. You don’t say anything for a second, eyes still wide at how much Shota came. It clings to you - what spilled on your hand and you do your best to clean it up with gentle swipes of your tongue and even that pulls the deepest and rumbling moans from the man above you.

“I’m laughing at you - you’re the one who is panting like they ran a marathon.” You say back, your ears rotating and flickering around your head as you raise your round eyes to look at him, nothing but mirth and affection dancing in your irises. Shouta brings a forearm to cover his eyes and he leans back, letting the coolness of the wall seep into him bringing him back from whatever heights you took him to. Shouta takes it to peer down at you, dark eyes watching with a bit of smugness at how you contently lean your head to the side when he scratches behind your ear.

“Leave me alone, I’m older than you, let me catch my breath.” He swallows when you give him a large smile from your place still on your knees. He huffs an affectionate breath out and he’s pulling you up before you can say anything. Shouta tucks himself back into his pants and reaches to draw you close in a more gentle embrace than before.

“You make yourself sound like you're decades older than me - you’re not even a decade older than me.” You mutter into his chest and you can feel his chuckle rather than hear it and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Older than you is enough, come on let’s go to the kitchen I need to massage your knees for you - they’re probably sore. Also need to get you hydrated.” Shouta rambles into your hair and you laugh at how he gets like this - you try to spoil him and he doubles it back to you.

“Are you trying to spoil me back?” You ask as he keeps his arm around your shoulder and you two make your way to the kitchen no matter how many times you bump into furniture or the door.

“I have no idea what it is you are talking about.”

#lamb.writes #aizawa smut #aizawa shouta smut #bnha smut #mha smut #i just want to spoil him

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