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cherrycherrylady2024 · 4 months ago

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Christmas with the Grimes'

(Dilf Rick Grimes x reader) Word count: 3,327

Warnings 18+: Drinking, mentions of sex, kissing, incredible sexual tension, very sensuous bandaging, this is so hot i love this chapter

Chapter 5: Reach out and touch

It felt like a sign. Or instant karma. Your face was hot with embarrassment as you shakily picked yourself up, stumbling twice in the process. Judith and co. had already made a full lap around the rink and skated up to you at the perfect time to watch you fall yet again. “Shit, y/n! Are you okay?” Judith exclaimed, quickly skating over to you and helping you stand. Why the fuck is everyone in this town an Olympic pro skater? You brushed it off with a laugh, concealing your chagrin. Your unfortunately un-gloved palms were already red and thumping with pain, along with your knee which had smashed into the ice. Marsha looked you up and down, a hint of a sneer on her lips, “Do you want one of those?” she questioned, pointing at a kid wobbling around the ice, using a walker. A few others were strewn about, clearly meant for the idiots who couldn’t skate. Judith shot her a look and you tried to conceal your irritation. “No, thanks though. I’m just rusty,” you say gritting your teeth. Marsha smiled faux-sweetly and zipped off, spraying a bit of ice in her wake. Daniel looked at you, a hint of worry, before following Marsha. “I’m sorry y/n, Marsha’s a bitch sometimes,” Judith said, interlinking her arm with yours. You didn’t respond, as you felt tears prickling the back of your eyes. Everything was bubbling up to the surface. You were feeling so many things so heavily and quickly that you weren’t sure how to handle it all.

But still, you refused to cry.

Judith did a lap with you around the rink as you gained your bearings, before you shooed her off to try on your own. She stayed a few feet away, watching you, in case you fell. She was a good friend. Your best friend. And you wanted to fuck her dad. You are despicable. Every time you fell, you almost felt like you deserved it. You got the hang of it just barely towards the end, but only after slamming into the barriers, the ground, and a few other people. After an hour on the ice, your hands were scraped and bruised, your pants torn on one knee, and you ached all over. Marsha and Daniel said their goodbyes, which you barely acknowledged. The car ride home was quiet between you and Judith, except for some Christmas music playing over the radio. You kept your eyes trained out of the window, exhausted emotionally and physically. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her glancing at you now and then. She finally spoke, “Y’know…you could’ve told me you can’t skate.” She said this gently, not judging. It wasn’t accusatory, or mean, or bitchy, she was entirely genuine. Your frustrations melted away. You loved her. You looked at her tiredly, not saying anything as she returned your gaze. After a moment, a small smile began to form on her lips and you couldn’t help but return it. You let out a giggle. She snorted, her smile growing. Before you knew it you were both cackling with laughter, Judith even wiping a tear from her eye. It was pretty ridiculous, you look like you had been in a bar fight. Judith slowed to a stop in front of Carol’s house again and Carl got in the car, your laughter just winding down. He paused for a second, “What happened to you?” he questioned. You and Judith immediately burst into laughter again. You felt better.

~~~

You walked back into the Grimes house, your bones aching. You wanted a hot shower and perhaps a few bandaids. You remembered with feverish excitement that Rick would be home, and you headed into the kitchen, assuming he would be preparing dinner. Except he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the dining room either. Or the living room. You felt both panic and disappointment rise in you. “Dad’s working late again!” you hear Judith yell from the kitchen. You speed walk back in, and try to seem nonchalant. Judith flicks a note towards you, “He didn’t leave pizza money either. Leftovers I guess.” You picked up the note, reading and re-reading it.

‘Working late, not sure when I’ll be home. Be good. Sweet dreams if I don't see you - Dad’

It was a simple note, probably scrawled quickly during his lunch break. Not much to read into. Except you were nearly 100% sure the last line was meant for you. It had to be. While you were supremely let down, you also felt a sense of vindication. It was there. It was real.

The three of you heated up Chinese leftovers and enjoyed your small feast on the couch, watching Christmas movies. You had fully emerged from your bit of moodiness and enjoyed Judith and Carl's company. Sure Judith had a terrible habit of talking through movies, and yes, Carl couldn’t sit still for more than 10 seconds, but it was a comfort to you. The fireplace warmed the three of you, snuggled up in blankets, and you realized that you felt the most at home you have in a very, very long time. Maybe it was because you felt validated by the note, or maybe you were just tired, but the time flew by surprisingly fast. Before you knew it, Carl was headed to bed and you had said your goodnights to the Grimes siblings. You got in the shower after Judith around 9 pm, the warm water soothing your aching body. You were surprised to find a few more scrapes and bruises that had been concealed by your clothing, but you didn’t care enough to ask for bandaids at this point. You methodically picked out and put on a pair of pajamas before diving under the covers, already chilly. You set your alarm for 2 am, and fell asleep with surprising ease.

~~~

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you tip-toed down the stairs, hoping against all hope that Rick would be in the kitchen. Just like last night. Just like every night for the rest of time if you were lucky. You padded into the kitchen, silent as the dead, holding your breath in anticipation.

He sat at the kitchen island once more, studying the newspaper's crossword under the small lamp, his whiskey by his side. You breathed a sigh of relief, and he looked up, an expression of mild surprise followed by a smile. “Back again?” He remarked. His smile briefly faltered as he surveyed your appearance; your nearly-see-through tank top which left little to the imagination in the chilly house, your shorty shorts which looked small enough to be underwear, and your scraped and bruised knees. He looked like he wanted to ask, but thought better of it. You had a sudden wave of panic. What the fuck were you doing? “Couldn’t sleep,” you stated. He nodded his head, glancing back down toward his newspaper, “More dreams?” You scoffed and walked over to him, the cold tiles of the kitchen shocking your feet. You sidled up right next to him, standing only a few inches away as he sat. He turned his head slowly, blue eyes wandering up your frame to look at you, his face slightly lower than yours. His expression was slightly questioning yet indulgent of your little show. You glanced down at him with a sly smile before bending over and reading his crossword questions out loud to yourself. You could feel his gaze linger on your body, stretched over him. “This one is wrong, Rick,” you said definitively, pointing out one of the rows he had filled in. Rick, Rick, Rick. You loved to say his name, but you felt a twinge of fear when he looked at you, raising his eyebrow slightly. Didn’t he tell you to call him Rick? The corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smirk. “Oh is it?” he said sarcastically, more of a statement than a question. Your leg brushed up against his, neither of you moving away. “Mhm. Pencil,” you commanded, hand outstretched. He chortled, shaking his head and handing you the pencil.

You had gripped the end of it before he suddenly stopped, and in the blink of an eye, both his hands quickly cupped your outstretched one. “What happened here?” He questioned, more concerned than you expected. You regretted not putting on bandaids earlier, as you felt your face go slightly warm. “Oh- I… fell. Like a lot. On the ice. It was sort of mortifying,” you admitted. You hated the thought of him thinking you were some clumsy kid. He moved your hand around, inspecting it, his grip on your wrist secure and warm. The fingers of his other hand gently brushed across your own, opening up your hand more. He stood and moved past you in an instant, his hand brushing your waist, sending more goosebumps across your skin. “It’s fine really, it doesn’t hurt,” you said. He ignored you, ducking into a cupboard and emerging with a first aid kit. He cracked it open and brought the lamp closer to you two, before patting the counter, “Hop up.” You obeyed and climbed onto the counter. He situated himself slightly in between your outstretched knees, close enough that you could wrap your legs around him if you wanted to. And you did want to. You weren’t embarrassed by your ice skating battle scars anymore. In fact, this was the best possible way this situation could go. Thank god you're terrible at ice skating. You tried not to smile.

Rick put some Neosporin on the butt of each of your hands, his clean fingertip delicately spreading it across your scrape. He was so gentle. So quiet. So present. It was incredibly intimate. He wrapped a thin piece of gauze around both of your hands, and you felt somewhat silly again. Perhaps this was overkill.

That was until he gripped the back of your thigh, spreading your legs further and bringing your right knee closer to his eye level.

You inhaled sharply, but he didn’t seem to notice, his gaze completely and utterly focused on your beat-up knee. It was extremely endearing. You were now situated, legs akimbo, around Rick Grimes. One of his hands held the back of your calf, the other in the middle of your quad, turning your knee this way and that in the light. “You ain’t ever allowed to ice skate again,” he finally declared shaking his head with a smile. You felt like you were on fire like anything could happen in this moment. You tried to maintain control of yourself, chill out. “Yes sir,” you mumbled, not quite as sarcastic sounding as you had meant it to be. Certainly not chill! His eyes flicked up to yours, catching the sheepish look on your face. He smiled to himself as he let go of your leg, reaching for the alcohol wipes in the kit. He peeled one open then looked up at you, “This might sting.” You nodded, nothing could take you away from this moment. He dabbed the wipe gently on your scraped knee and- OW. You sucked in a surprised breath between your teeth, squeezing your eyes closed. “Shhh,” he said, gently caressing your thigh in a soothing gesture, “You’re alright.”

You forgot about the pain almost immediately, his caress much more arousing than soothing. You peeked down at him. His face was inches away from your knee, eyebrows knit up, focusing on sanitizing the scrape as gently as possible. Rick's large hands gripping your thigh, yet working so delicately on your injury. His dark, thick hair with those sexy curls. One had even fallen into his face, and it took all your strength not to push it back for him. Run your fingers through his hair. You wanted nothing more than to touch him. He cleaned the smaller scrape on your other knee before throwing the towlette away. He applied Neosporin again and placed a large bandaid on one and a smaller one on the other. With his thumbs, he stroked the edges of the bandaids firmly, coercing them to stay in place. He rubbed his hands together, inspecting his work, “Alright that should do it. Nothin’ we can do ‘bout these bruises though.” He stood. You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t want him to ever leave between your legs.

It was out of your mouth before you could give it a second thought,

“Will you kiss it better?”

...

Now would be the appropriate time to crawl into a hole and die.

You felt an immediate flush grace your cheeks. Rick peered down at you, and you struggled to read his expression. It was like a warning look, but also spirited, like something had stirred inside of him. Like he was entertaining this behavior. He looked hungry. You hadn’t broken eye contact, your lips slightly parted, ready to take back what you said. He studied you for another moment before his hand slid under your leg again, stabilizing it. He slowly knelt, sinking almost entirely in front of you, your legs open wide to him. He maintained eye contact as he leaned forward slightly, and left a soft kiss over your bandaged knee. Your eyelids fluttered and you let out the tiniest shaky breath. He must have noticed, but again said nothing. He wasn’t done. He moved lazily to your other knee, and left another kiss, lingering longer. You were at the precipice of something. All you had to do was reach out and touch. He finished and stood, that same hungry look in his eye, slightly self-satisfied. He could see what he was doing to you.

Rick’s hips were situated in line with your knees, maybe even closer. One of his hands just so happened to stay on your thigh. It was undeniable now. If anybody walked in there was no explaining this. You could cut the tension between you two with a knife. No, not even with a knife. A chainsaw might do the job. You didn’t want him to stop. He seemed as though he was just about to say something, but you interrupted him, stretching out your bandaged hands. Your knuckles bumped his chest, your palms up. You didn’t need to say anything, he understood, that playful look in his eye. He grasped the back of your hand and leaned down. Your fingers cupped his face as he left a gentle kiss to your bandaged hand. His coarse facial hair tickled the soft flesh of your palm. He moved to the other one, again leaving a slightly deeper kiss. You wanted nothing more than to grab his face and connect your lips. You could imagine it so vividly. Reach out and touch. What was stopping you? You couldn’t imagine he’d protest. And yet, to cross that line… you were petrified. As much as you tried to seem suave and confident, this was completely uncharted territory. Maybe in an alternate universe, you were bold, truly bold. Maybe you were already fucking on the kitchen counter. But not in this universe.

He pulled away from your hand. Please don’t stop Please don’t stop Please don’t stop. He started putting away the med kit. No. No. No.

“Ow,” you remarked flatly.

He turned back to find you pointing at your inner thigh, and the rather large bruise situated only one or two inches from the hem of your shorts. You had no idea how it had appeared, yet there it was. He stared at the bruise, clenching his jaw, the gears turning in his head. You would give anything to know what he was thinking. He looked up at you.

You were taken aback by his stormy expression. You hadn’t seen a look like this on his face before and it took you a few moments to piece it together. There was a kind of frustration behind his eyes, one that you couldn’t wrap your head around. Why would he be angry? It wasn’t a full-on glare, more of a DANGER warning, and yet you could see that same hunger there, ten-fold. It was as though he was desperately holding himself back, and he was losing. You got the feeling Rick didn’t like to lose. He didn’t move. Neither of you did.

You have made a huge mistake. You fucked everything up. What is wrong with you?

He looked away, out of the window, thinking briefly. You were both vividly aware of the line you had asked him to cross. The moments passed at a glacial pace, and you felt frozen in anticipation of what might come. Rick turned back to you and sighed lowly. He set the medical kit back down, maybe a little harder than it needed to be. He drummed his fingers on the box. You gripped the counter anxiously, trying not to let it show on your face. After what felt like an excruciatingly long amount of time, he moved. Rick situated himself back in between your legs, spreading them wider with his hand, a gentle pressure on your knee. He was closer than before, even. You exhaled shakily. He hooked his hand in the crook of your leg, lifting it up. He was still gentle, but you could sense he was holding back. It was the same motion he would do if he was about to put your leg over his shoulder, and you couldn’t shake the image from your head. Reach out and touch. His other hand held your opposite thigh for stability, his thumb stroking your skin gently. He lowered his head languidly, maintaining the same steely eye contact. You breathed heavily. His face was mere inches from your clothed pussy as he dipped his head towards your thigh. He paused, keeping his mouth just slightly away from the mauve bruise, and you could feel his equally heavy breath on your skin. He looked up at you holding your gaze as he connected his parted lips to your inner thigh. His eyes shut as he slowly pursed his lips, leaving the world's most erotic, warm, semi-open-mouthed kiss.

He exhaled through his nostrils like he was relieved of some great burden within himself. Like he was given water while lost in the desert. He didn’t seem to want to stop. Or maybe he just couldn’t. He had given in. His lips didn't leave the spot for quite some time, grazing over the bruise. You could’ve come right then and there. Rick Grimes’ head in between your thighs, his lips on your skin, his fingers gripping you tightly, as though he was trying in vain to restrain himself. He kissed the bruise a second time, and you could swear you felt him lightly suck at your skin. He dragged his bottom lip gradually away from the bruise, traveling down your leg. You could feel his teeth slightly graze your skin. The warmth of his mouth. Shivers racked your body as you let your head fall back slightly, closing your eyes in ecstasy at the lightest touch. His lips eventually departed and he straightened up slowly, his head still bowed, before meeting your eyes darkly.

He was inches away, gazing deeply, lustfully, dangerously into your soul. His hand hadn’t left your thigh. Reach out. You breathed shakily. And touch. Your hand met his on your thigh. Reach out and touch. You traveled slowly up his arm, stopping at his shoulder. He didn’t break eye contact. He didn’t move. You leaned forward, your legs opening up even more for him. Reach out and touch. Your lips were centimeters from his, you shared the same breath, his eyes flicking down to your lips. He wasn’t making this easy for you. You had to cross that line, not him. Your hand met the side of his face. Reach out and touch.

Maybe it was this universe.

You pressed your lips against his.

***

notes: oh my god. Oh my god. Tee hee thanks for waiting I hope you guys like this one! Also if anyone has any suggestions of things you'd like to see in this story feel free to DM me, I'm always open to input! <3

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mysteriesmuse · 2 years ago

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Princess Reader x Royal Guard Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugou Katsuki’s job is literally to stand by you day and night. You promoted him to being your personal guard and now he follows you around the castle like a dog. Katsuki thought he would hate it. Thought he would have to do something to get himself fired. Something that would make you dislike him because everytime he was around you his skin definitely felt red hot and he had a slight nauseating sensation in his stomach. It’s only when steam started pouring out his ears with him clenching his teeth and palms that he was able to pinpoint that feeling. Oh yes that previous feeling was jealously and Katsuki Bakugou apparently didn’t hate you. Because he really felt jealous about this stupid suitor that was attempting to woo you. He liked you. He had a crush on the princess he was in charge of protecting with his life. Not that, that would change. But now he had a reason to get to know you more. To make the same impression that the other elite guards made with small talk that put you at ease during any shift changes.

BECOME THE BEST GUARD IN THE CASTLE: CHECK

MAKE SMALL TALK & GET IN GOOD GRACES WITH THE PRINCESS: IN PROGRESS

WOO THE PRINCESS: ??? So Katsuki really freaking struggled with small talk. Plus, I mean the guy knows practically everything about you. How is he supposed to make small talk if he can’t just ask the questions? Trick question he still can. In reality he doesn’t really have to. He’s supposed to be a rather stoic and sentient figurine that guards you. His first few attempts were meet with startled eyes and strange looks for the next few weeks. You’re known to be fairly cordial and friendly with the guards, but his reputation proceeded him. Big Scary Guard Dog Bakugou. That’s who you were told was your new guard. And that’s what you expected for the most part. A quiet guy who may or may not be a piece of eye candy following you around like a shadow. Oh boy, were you wrong. He was definitely a piece of eye candy. Actually he was the piece of eye candy that was apart of your elite protection group. A very silent man Bakugou. And after the first couple of weeks of him assigned as you personal guard your opinion on that changed. Bakugou grunts out a G’mornin’ and a G’night to you every day. Almost looks strained, but it’s pleasant nonetheless. And he’s incredibly observant too. You catch him in the hall to your corridors arguing with a servant about the bouquet of flowers she’s attempting to bring in to replace the last bouquet on your writing desk. “Shitty - ahem - her majesty prefers another variety of flower. Go back and procure some of the blue snowball looking ones.” After that you noticed that the vase continually held varieties of flowers that you’d complimented on in the royal gardens. And from then on your awkward guard/royalty relationship bloomed like a hillside. A cascading flurry of one beautiful thing after another. ——— When you’re cozied up in the quiet royal library to enjoy a good book you pause and peek over the top of the novel in your lap. Almost out of curiosity or disbelief that Bakugou is the one asking a question. He blinks out of genuine curiosity and you open your mouth and start to turn the book around so that he can see the words of the story you’re gesturing at. He gets you to go on and on that way. Nothing but a few affirmational vocals from him that he’s still listening. And he loves watching your expressions almost more than when you insist that he do something. Read his own book, after all it is a library. He dismisses it all. And yes your highness he can read and write just fine. This is just his job. Well not the secretly pinning over you while you read, but the watching part. And He learns that you actually know a lot more about kingdom politics than he previously gave you credit for. You’re smoothing over diplomatic matters with a carefully inked letter and secretly keeping promises about exports and materials your kingdom has pledged.

All while you sit and hum at your writing desk. The way you gently tease off your shoes with your toes at the heels when you’ve decided you’re going to be in for a long while. And Katsuki knows then that you’ll idly wave for him to sit instead of standing at his post the whole while. Except he starts to develop the nasty happen of staring and when you catch him looking he’ll chose between grumbling and turning away as his ears turn pink or blink unyielding and say “just doing my job, princess”

Katsuki likes the suave of the second one, but it really ends up being 50/50 with it. ————

But 100% of the time your strolls through the royal garden have him itching to take some armor off as the sunny warmth makes him sweat buckets underneath the layers of his uniform. Not to mention you walking this close already has his skin hot enough. The way you walk shoulder to shoulder just has him practically drooling at the thought of holding your hand. - Exhibits extreme self-control every stroll. Oh and when the fruit and vegetables are ready to be harvested you like to take teasing strolls into the royal orchards and gardens to taste the first ripe fruit of the season. Always curtesying as you point and ask him to grab a mandarin, or plum, or peach, or nectarine, or lemon, or apple, or whatever it is. And you’ve usually tried just before hand. On you tip-toes waggling your decorated fingers into the air. The sunlight bouncing off your jewels that adorn your skin and cascade daggers of rainbowed light upon your face. And it’s always just out of reach. A fresh shiny pout on your face when you turn and ask him to pluck one. And Katsuki usually just has to stand and put his arm up to grab one as you patiently wait and watch. But you’re admiring him just as much as he admired you. Staring up at his chiseled jawline. The wheaty stubble that decorates his face. You long to feel it prickle underneath your fingertips. Wonder how it would feel tickling the edges of your kiss when you finally set your mouth against his plush lips. You admire his impeccable physique. His staggering size as he barely stretches his shoulder to reach the fruit. And the way his golden tan glistens underneath the dappled light of the sun; glistens from the profuse sweat elicited from his layers and layers of chainmail and armor. All brushing over his adams apple before he gulps and turned to hand it to you. And Katsuki loves to hold it in his palm in the way that you have to pick it up. Feel your fingers gently prod and caress the skin of his palm as you turn the fruit over. Mulling over its quality before wordlessly holding it back out. He huffs and grabs the fruit as you take him to the stone wall. You sit and pull out a handkerchief from between your breasts if he’s not swift enough in supplying you with his. And Katsuki will grab his dagger and slice up the fruit, setting the pieces down onto the handkerchief before you plop one into your mouth. His hands will still and his eyes flick to your face watching as you chew and make a satisfied moan. The rest of your stroll will include these snack breaks. Taking “samples” as you call them of the seasons fruit. And the royal gardners have since decided to ignore the two figurines of their princess and the royal guardsmen sitting on the stone walls chattering and pressing handkerchiefs into sticky thieving fingers. ————

In the royal kitchens he accompanies you as you excitedly follow behind a kitchen maid who’s sent for you to do a testing of the new desserts the chef has been working on. Despite your official look of composure he knows that you’re excited by the little bounce in your hair from your steps. Katsuki always clunks down to the table when you beckon him to sit. Frantically patting the chair next to you after he’s been a right gentleman and pushed your chair in. You always think he looks rather scared with the way his carmine eyes dart around the empty dinning hall before the procession of maids and chef come out into the hall and display a plethora of desserts in front of you. They always wave you on with glee before retreating to the kitchen to finish the next batch. Your mouth practically waters as you pick up your fork and spear the perfect first bite. Only to turn to Katsuki with your other hand under the utensil holding it up to his plush pink lips which immediately turn into a defensive scowl. You’re always muttering something about your safety to “taste test for me? Make sure there’s nothing poisoned?” Except Katsuki’s never been sure that’s your real agenda here because you always gently spoon the first bite of your special taste testing into his mouth and if its something chocolate it always taste like Heaven despite it being a brand new recipe. (You’ve got the best chocolatier in the kingdom) and he always a little groan slip out. His face melting as he chews and swallows. (he’s going to be doing a lot more of that)

Before he nods muttering it’s safe. Not that your food would be poisoned because the staff and kingdom are all pretty loyal here and him and the elite guards are way to fricken scary to have on your tail. But he humors you anyway because technically that’s protecting and you’re right it’s in his job description. And then you, without changing forks, without doing anything else immediately set the fork he just used between your own lips and lick off the icing residue between your pink lips and hum before taking a real first bite yourself. And you do it all while maintaining perfect eye contact with him. And he can feel blood rushing to weird places all over his body. And it goes on like this for every single plate they offer. HAVE THE PRINCESS FLIRT WITH YOU: yes? maybe ?? At this rate he’s not sure why the kitchen staff haven’t mandated you with a royal poison taste tester with your insistence of him having a bite of every one of your plates. Seriously what are these people thinking! They’re thinking that there’s some real true love blooming in the castle and who are they to get in the way! Plus, it’s a good practice for any wedding cake samples they do in the future. Of course they won’t ever tell y’all whose wedding they’re preparing to cater. ———— While you delight in that. Katsuki delights in nothing more than your dance lessons. He likes to watch you glide, or try to, across the floor with every step. Definitely feels a weird blooming of secondhand pride when you practice a new step a few times and smooth it out with practice. Overall he finds it very peaceful and relaxing watching you laugh and groan and be belittled by this ancient teacher they have for you. Stands at the door tapping his toe in his boot to the beat. When this ancient woman that he just loves comes over and insists that he mustn’t “just stand there and look handsome. Make yourself useful she needs a partner” which always causes your head to swivel like a chicken as he detaches a few layers of pure metal off his body to make the dancing “easier and more realistic for her highness”

So now he gets to stand bare of any occluding armor and he can feel your e/c gaze washing over his body and the ripping muscles that he’s always had hidden under that armor. Adores the chance to hold you in his arms and practice doing the steps that you’re working on. And he’s attended enough of these things and the balls to be able to pick up on his part pretty quickly. Katsuki, not to toot his own horn because he would never, has to say he’s pretty darn good at dancing. Stupidly good for a royal guard which he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be clunky and clumsy, but as soon as the armor is off he’s as graceful as any one of the princes or dukes you’ve danced with ball after ball and gala after gala. He’s humongous. Practically a head taller than you and his shoulders are stupidly wide and it’s like you’re in a cocoon of just him. His stupid minty breath whenever he’s mumbling something snarky or whispering the counts just loud enough for your teacher to know he’s actually helping. The flopping bangs that fall into his face whenever he needs to look down and see what your feet are doing. Usually because you’ve accidentally skipped a step or done something that messes with his leading because how can you not! Except this only fuels Bakugou’s ego more because he’s never seen you mess up with any partner at any of these balls you attend. The logical part of his brain says it’s because this is your dance room and you’re practicing. But the other hopeful part of his heart says it’s because maybe you’re flustered. Maybe you feel something too. And you definitely do. The oddly warm, but searing heat of his hand on the small of your back makes you stand up. His shoulder and bicep and forearm all a fluttering mass of muscle that languidly stretches and twitches underneath your arm. His meaty and calloused hand that holds yours, which is incredibly clamy except you’re not sure if it’s you or him! And your annoying dance teacher who constantly whacks your limbs and buttocks whenever you do something wrong, which only makes your guards impeccable poker face quirk into a smirk before she starts the music again. And unfortunately the old crone has caught on. Because your lessons after having danced with Katsuki are immensely improved. And your performance at balls is flawless at best, so she’s going to keep asking the young rugged handsome guard of yours to keep stepping in as your partner for dancing because he seems to be the only one where you actually have to work for that composure. ————

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