【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
It has recently come to our attention that many of our guests have not been focusing on their health and wellness. In an effort to encourage healthy living and help our beloved guests get in shape, a grand sports festival will be held in the Golden Peacock. This sports festival will include many small games and four large games.
Prior to the festival, guests will have the opportunity to train and prepare for the games with our expert coaches.
We hope you are as excited as we are! And, as always, we hope you enjoy your stay. 】
BEAK
MEET THE TEAM
♦ DIAMONDS GAME ♦
OMEGADOME: HUNTING GAME
A cheerful pair of game managers stand outside the conservatory doors and block all guests that try to enter. They quickly explain that a special Diamonds game is taking place inside and only guests that agree to participate may enter. This game is a physical exercise that riffs on "Hunting", which is a popular sport in many different countries and civilizations. Of course, it is one hundred percent safe, and all guests that play are eligible to win massive chip prizes, store vouchers, fabulous prizes, and more.
Details about the game? Those can't be shared outside of the conservatory. Only the brave and those willing to risks will reap the benefits of this Diamonds game. So step right up, dear guests, and sign this waiver before stepping into the flourishing beauty of the conservatory for a brand new adventure.
♥ HEARTS GAME ♥
DOUBLES' THERMO: SURVIVAL GAME
Chickadees is sparing no expense on advertising their e-sport games over the course of the sports festival. Posters, notifications, stickers, fliers! Come one, come all. Sports don't need to be physical. Guests that duck into the arcade will find a variety of e-sport games to enjoy, but the real showstopper that every single employee is aggressively promoting is the new immersive VR game, DOUBLES' THERMO.
A large swath of egg-shaped pods have been installed in the back half of Chickadees. Any guest that shows an iota of interest will be assaulted by employees encouraging them to give it a try. They will offer vouchers for a free session, encourage with mentions of prizes that can be won from the arcade's coveted prize wall, and persuade by praising how high tech and immersive the experience is. Some employees are desperate enough to trick or push guests into the pods if they aren't willing to go in themselves.
However they've ended up inside the VR egg, guests will find themselves submerged in strange fluid as the lid closes. Everything fades away into darkness as the game loads...
♣ CLUBS GAME ♣
QUACK AND COVER: SHOOTING GAME
Cloaca & Dagger has temporarily outfitted itself as a neon-bright paintball course. Gone are the wild sex setups in exchange for series of obstacles and obstructions for guests to navigate while in pursuit of paintball championship. This high intensity game of strategy and physical fitness promises to exhilarate! Welcome to Quack and Cover, a game where your shooting skills and ingenuity will be put to the test.
So say the game managers at the door before following up with a few disclaimers. Cloaca & Dagger is not responsible for any physical or psychological trauma guests may incur while inside. Guests that join the game will then be outfitted in tight black underarmor and supplied with a paintball gun and protective mask before being let loose on the course.
♠ SPADES GAME ♠
PECKING ORDER: MMA GAME
During night hours, many long-standing guests make their way through Talon toward the gym’s creaky basement stairs. Three floors down and then through a desolate hallway with littered with abandoned equipment. Double doors wait at the end, unassuming until they’ve been opened…
Flashing lights, jeers, and the thick odor of sweat. You’ve found the Pecking Order, a late-night mixed martial arts event where guests show their prowess in the ring. Spectating guests shout and messily eat snacks on make-shift bleachers while fighters clash inches away, using only their bodies to fight for dominance and win. Pecking Order is very informal; guests only need to sign up in order to get added to the docket. Anyone can watch, though they will be vaguely warned at the door that even spectating comes with risks.
LOCKER ROOMS
YOU WASH MY BACK, I'LL WASH YOURS
Every training and game location has a door labeled LOCKER ROOM right outside the entrance. These doors all connect to the same massive locker room. The magic of these locker room doors goes one way. Trying to go back to the place you just were by backtracking will not work — you’ll just end up in Beak! All guests will be advised to finish their games before hitting the showers.
The Golden Peacock is proud to present our upgraded and extended locker room. Please come in and enjoy the facilities, catch-up with your teammates, and enjoy some healthy drinks provided by our favorite resort convenience store, Cock-a-doodle-doo’s!
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's March event.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
[Akira's uncertainty slowly morphs into a sharp, impish grin, lips curving up at the corners as he allows his gaze to wash appreciatively across the flush on Bakugou's scarlet features. cute. . . it's very cute. so Sparky has a bashful side after all, huh. . .]
[with towel still wrapped around his waist (not for long, at this rate) Akira slides past his companion, gently nudging Bakugou in the ribs as he does]
Just so you know-- red looks pretty good on you.
[CHEEKY UNTIL THE VERY END]
[anyway yes, he is going to slip into the shower now, pleased as a cat who caught himself a mouse]
[Bakugo lifts his hand up, fingers curled, and snaps off a few small explosions. red eyes narrow right onto the other guy's face, daring him to say whatever the fuck he's got running through his mind right now, and try to survive the result. that or he's getting ready to blast Akira's butt into the shower if he keeps taking his sweet time.]
Tch. [what a pain. as soon as the thief's inside, he steps in after him and yanks the curtain back across its rail. not a massive stall, it's trying to encourage people touching, but spacious enough you can avoid grinding if you're willing to pivot and keep close to the walls.
there's an "accidental" knee to the back of the thigh. paybacks for ribbing him. literally.]
Shut up! Or you're gonna be wearing wall tiles. [right, yell at the guy you invited into the shower with you. very charming.]
["accidental" indeed. Akira laughs, the sound chiming lightly in the air like a bell, as he sticks his hand underneath the steamy running water. these showers may not be huge, but they're leagues better than the sorry shared ones down in the basement. he supposes it's one benefit of being kicked out of his room during sports season]
[. . . as long as there's enough space for the two of them, Akira won't complain]
You know, that sounds more like a promise than a threat.
[quirking a brow at Bakugou, perfectly suggestive, before he casually tugs the towel away from his waist and tosses it over the side of the stall]
[. . .]
[as far as ass game goes, Akira is. . . average. but what Bakugou might notice most as his companion ducks underneath the water are those back muscles. sleek, lean, well-defined. . . they move freely underneath his skin as he runs his fingers through black, curly locks to dampen them. the only imperfections are those splotches of red-and-blue bruises that proooobably still ache]
[it pisses him off this guy has an attractive laugh. not even mean, just airy and confident and fun. Bakugo leaves Akira to get himself soaked up first, standing to the side as water bounces and pings off the other boy's shoulders and head. steam curls around them even now, turning the little area into a sauna just for them. yeah, better than the basement locker rooms and communal showers, but he usually washes off in the Beak or Talon.]
Every threat's a promise.
[cause he's always gotta be a badass somewhere. with a rush of terrycloth, the towel's gone and Bakugo's left taking in an eyeful from the thief. notice? yeah, he notices. being a hero and a fighter, taking in his opponent's physical features is part of the training and instinct. not in the sexy setting, but guess what, turns out it happens there too. red eyes take a quick sweep, noting Akira's back muscles before he even gets to his ass.
someone would look good in a backless catsuit... the fuck was that, brain?!]
[someone would look very good in a backless catsuit]
[a small hum, and Akira tilts his head over his shoulder to acknowledge Bakugou, that smile still dancing playfully upon his features]
Not on purpose. [upper body strength was just important for a thief who did a lot of fighting. and a lot of parkour. and a lot of hoisting himself over fences and walls as part of that parkour] I suppose it just sort of shook out that way. . .
[a beat. he shimmies a bit to the side to make room for his companion underneath the shower head]
[get the whole bayonetta and jeanne look going on.
Bakugo watches water droplets and streams take their course down Akira's contours, tracing around shoulder blades and rippling over the ridges of his spine before licking between muscle cords and vanishing between his cheeks. of course it's gonna end down there.
he flicks his gaze back up, eyebrow arching into his bangs.]
You don't work out? [granted, if Akira was fighting and dodging, running and parkouring every day, that's a workout. cardio, but definitely working out.] Uh-huh.
[somehow doesn't believe the "just happened" flippancy.]
Yeah. [Bakugo steps up beside him and leans into the shower, rubbing his neck and face under its heated spray.]
[of course it's gonna end down there!! with his gaze lifted over his shoulder as it is, Akira can follow the trail of Bakugou's eyes as they rake across his back and further down to his curves. heh. . . heh. that's one way to make a guy feel pretty damn good about himself]
I do. Or-- . . . I used to.
[he hasn't kept up with it nearly as well since arriving at the resort. . . or since leaving Tokyo and returning home to his cozy, countryside town, actually. but that's only because his gym rat of a buddy isn't with him. it's more fun working out when you have a friend feeling the burn right along with you]
But I never purposefully targeted my back, I suppose. [though undoubtedly, several of his usual exercises were targeting his back, and he just never realized it] Lean this way a little--
[and now that Bakugou is underneath the water too, don't mind Akira as he reaches out with palms lathered in shampoo to card his fingers through blonde locks for the second time this thread]
[he would've looked regardless. you kinda do that when you're showering in close proximity with someone. human nature. and yet, there's something about the way his eyes linger and take more looks than necessary. due. Akira's not ugly, and he's the one who led this whole thing off with messing around. dammit. it's floating around in his brain now. bastard!]
Che. Wuss. You shouldn't let yourself slack off. [if he wants a workout buddy, he's looking at one of the best/worst ones. meaning Bakugo will definitely see to it Akira gets to the gym, but he'll also... definitely see to it Akira gets to the gym. even if it means dragging his ass there or blowing him up the entire way. IF -- the guy asks.]
Hn. Do people's corrupt thoughts require a lot of lifting? [you know, Bakugo's glad Akira told him about the kind of thievery he does. it could've done so much worse, but now he's aware the Phantom Thieves aren't the villains they could have been. sure, if their worlds collided, there'd be some abrasion between heroes and the thieves, given the differing morals, but their goals are mostly aligned, even if their modus operandi differ. it means he can talk with Akira about it, tease him a little. something he wouldn't be doing with a normal thief who delights engaging in crime and wants to share it.
and yeah, he's leaning over. not much need to since the space between them's so slim. Bakugo closes his eyes halfway as fingers lather into his hair. shouldn't feel as good as it does, but... it does.]
[hey. . . well, Bakugou's not wrong, Akira really shouldn't let himself slack off. he quirks a brow]
Are you offering to be my accountability buddy?
[because he'll take his friend up on that!! it could be another way to bond!!]
And sometimes they do. [he keeps talking as he works that shampoo up into a nice, soapy later, allowing his fingers to graze gently across Bakugou's scalp. head scritches. . . !] One guy's distorted desires took the shape of a giant crown. It took three of us to carry it out of the treasure room.
[once Bakugou's beautiful locks are all soaped up, Akira slides his hands behind his companion's neck, pressing them flat against warm skin as he gently tugs Bakugou forward, back underneath the shower spray. rinse!]
Don't wimp out. I'm not wasting my time on some fair-weather slacker.
[yes, that's an offer. yes, that's also a threat. Bakugo will be both accountable and efficient, which also means he'll be there each time and expecting Akira to answer. whatever method they end up working out to make it happen. of course life exceptions will happen and he's not so inflexible he's a tyrant. buuut... he has high expectations of himself, and often of those he's with.
if Akira gives him his all, he'll make sure it's returned with interest.
... and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in spending more time with Akira.]
A crown? What was his desire, riches or ruling? [likely one of those, unless fame and admiration ended up being 'the royal' treatment in this guy's mind. he tilts his head a few times to move Akira's massaging, scritching fingers to different places. mind the welt. feels good, seeing his shoulders and arms relaxing, back easing some tension.
he steps into the spray, moving his head this way and that to let the water pour through and rinse off. now he's swiping the bottle to return the favor.]
[and that's true! if he makes a promise, he keeps it, no matter how difficult it might be. even if he has been slacking on his exercise routine lately. if Bakugou has expectations, Akira will be sure to rise to them!!]
[. . . though he makes a bit of a face at what his companion asks next, fingers sliding away from Bakugou's neck as the shampoo suds are washed away]
We could talk about what an asshole he was, but it'll be a complete mood killer. So let's not.
[he cannot think about Kamoshida without completely losing any and all desire to fuck around. and he very much wants to fuck around, thank you very much. he isn't going to let bad memories stop him!!]
[instinctively, he was ready to growl at Akira for his readiness at the butt crack of dawn to begin that regimen. but... guess if he's gonna be his workout partner, he can take into account what the other guy likes first. (this is called being friends, but Bakugo's allergic to the word.) he trusts the other guy to honor his word.]
All right. But I'm gonna wanna hear about it another time. [Bakugo's not usually one for trading stories, as it often turns into stupid things he finds boring or pathetic. but stories about kicking ass and being heroes? more chances to hook his interest. he wants to know more about Akira's work as a Phantom Thief.]
Haa? If I had a complaint, I would've changed it already! [with a snatch, flip, and spurt, shampoo swirls in hips palm. back goes the bottle and Bakugou presses his hands together for a quick spread and smear, then works both hands' fingers into Akira's hair from either side of his head in an upward motion, bringing his palms flush to this skull in a practiced flank.
so professional. now scrub scrub, mush mush, massage massage.]
[evenings, Akira thinks immediately. he has always been a night person; the type to stay up late and sleep in until noon. without Morgana's persistent nagging, he never would have made it to bed at a decent hour. but he supposes. . . mornings are healthier for him. so long as there are no obnoxious coaches dragging him out of bed at 0600, he thinks he can manage a morning gym routine]
Mornings.
[look at him! giving the responsible answer!! the part about discussing Kamoshida later gets an affirmative noise, but otherwise no further acknowledgement. he is too busy focusing on the way those fingers slide into his hair, eyes slipping shut as a content hum-- almost a purr-- buzzes on his lips]
[. . . hm. seems like Bakugou has figured out the best way to shut him up. new power: unlocked]
[color him surprised at the answer. mornings? he expected evenings for a thief. then again, evenings are when thieves like to start moving and doing things, so Akira wouldn't want to be working out "during" his usual job hours. if he's doing any of that stuff in the peacock. as awesome as it'd be to dive into this fucking beast's head and rip out its corruption, Bakugo's pretty damn sure that falls outside Akira's abilities. not like Bakugo can do shit even with his strongest explosions.
poor Akira. completely unaware Bakugo's the guy who's in his room by 9 and asleep by 10, so he can get up at 5-fucking-30 in the morning and start his day. does this place even have clocks? guess he can compromise with Akira and go get him later in the morning. do his own run/exercise when he wakes and the real training further on.]
I'll come get you then. [mr. responsible. currently semi-distracted by his hand in Akira's hair. black becomes white frothed as he works the suds in, making sure to get behind his ears and above his nape. should he give Akira devil horns, liberty spikes, or a giant volcano? ... or keep making him hum/purr like this.
head massages get a melted joker, huh? he'll remember that.]
[melted Joker! completely without any sass!! that's a new state of being for him, isn't it?]
[whatever fiendish hairstyle thoughts Bakugou is having go completely unacknowledged as Akira continues to relish in that attention, head lolling to the side, almost as though seeking out the touch of Bakugou's fingers. the motion is truly feline-like; between that and the purring, he might be mistaken for a giant, human-shaped house cat. which would not be an incorrect impression of him, all things considered]
[. . .]
[a hand settles against the flat of Bakugou's chest, palm pressed against damp, warm skin, fingers slightly splayed. he keeps it there for the time being, not yet allowing it to meander, to trace the lines of those scars he had admired earlier. perhaps this is just his way of silently asking for permission]
[time will tell if he likes his quiet or ends up missing his sass. new? to Bakugo it's new. he opts not for fiendish hairstyles, but rather for the continued massaging to see what else he can get Akira into sloughing. when his head falls on a "broken" neck, he catches him easily and supports his froth-foamed raven crown, working more scrubs into the crown and back, making sure to get his hairline, behind his ears again, and then rushing the entire mop upward so he can reach all those "underneath" places with as little hair getting in the way as possible. Almost like he's had practice or experience with professional hair cleaners.
look, while Bakugo thinks he's more a dog person since they're more active and awesome, he's not against cats since they're little bastards with pride rivaling his own. plus quieter and less management. and their attitude's very similar to Bakugo's own. he leans into the hand resting on his chest slightly, firm muscle flexing a little on instinct. there's no effort to shake him off or deny the potential exploration. it's been almost a year since he arrived, so... the wounds have all healed.]
[. . . for some reason, Akira hadn't expected Bakugou to be quite so. . . gentle and attentive. he doesn't know why; Bakugou is a great listener and a good friend, so why shouldn't those traits translate well in intimate situations? maybe it's the rough-and-tumble exterior. maybe it's the way he is quick to anger and (insincere) death threats. whatever the reason, this is completely new side of the hero for Akira. and. . .]
[. . . and he honestly doesn't mind it]
[that purr turns into a pleased hum as he cracks one eye open, gaze heavy and lidded, irises dark underneath the shadow of his lashes. his lips curve into a grin, only slightly sharp around the edges, considering how bonelessly content he feels in the moment. his fingers begin to move, seeking out the raised edges of scarred skin, tracing the shapes he can find with attentive reverence]
[he could say something-- he should say something-- but for some reason, he feels like words would just ruin the moment]
[gee, whatever reason could that be? the guy who yells curses and threatens death while slamming his hands into exploding fists as his volatile temper ignites over the littlest provocation, turns out to be capable of detailed and careful work with his hands. and does so in more intimate settings. Bakugo normally has people surprised at his "softer" work, shocked he's skilled and intelligent when his normal attitude is such a delinquent brute.
but considering how thorough and efficient he is, why wouldn't he want to put the same 100% energy into washing someone's hair? they're giving him their head to treat, putting it in his hands, and he'll do his damnest to give them the utmost best! pride's a bitch.
Akira's a purring, humming cat and he wonders for a few seconds what that would feel like pressed against him. vibrating body, rumbling throat, tiny tremors through his arms and legs. he meets those dark irises, shadowed under his lashes and currently clear of the normal curly veil of bangs. and smooths all that mass right backwards over his head, forming a slicked sculpture.
a low exhale and tiny shudder are the first indications there's something sensitive about the scar on his chest, particularly towards the center of it. his body never did decide permanently what kind of sensitivity reaction they'd have, so it's always a toss up when someone touches his scars.]
[a curious noise interrupts Akira's thoughts, and he opens his eyes fully as his gaze flickers down towards that jagged shape cut across Bakugou's chest. honestly. . . it's actually quite stunning. is it weird to think that? to wholeheartedly believes that scars like this are beautiful? to him, it's a magnificent homage to whatever hardships that Bakugou had managed to survive. . . a marking worthy of attention and admiration, to prove that pain and suffering don't make anyone less worthy]
[. . .]
[his fingers dip closer towards the center, though. . . he's starting to think that his hands aren't nearly enough]
[a large burst radiating from the center of his chest, torn open as if something exploded from the inside out. slightly raised scar tissue around the edges, smooth throughout most of its breadth, with a nigh-imperceptible line in the middle. where the sutures held it together at the very end. quite the injury. would Akira believe him if he said he was basically dead because of it?
no less noticeable than the ones on his shoulder and lower side, and cheek. four marks of his strength and survival. four marks branding on his body the lengths he went to as a hero.
his hands slow slightly when Akira begins to inch his fingers towards the nucleus.]
[. . . yes, actually. he absolutely would. Akira is no stranger to scars himself, but all of his pale in comparison to these]
Mm. . .
[he stops when his hand reaches the center of the healed-over injury, once again pressing his palm flat against smooth skin, fingers stretched towards the raised edges. after another moment of hesitation, he takes a step closer, further into Bakugou's personal space, close enough that he can feel the warmth of his companion's body in addition to that of the shower steam]
[guess he'll get his chance to learn about it pretty quickly. Bakugo exhales in a strange way, as if he'd been holding his breath before Akira finally settles his hand over the center of his scar. never quite knows how it's going to react to touching. shit changes the sensitivity and damaged-but-recovered nerves. temperature, humidity, preparation.
as Akira steps forward, Bakugo moves to pivot them and bring the other boy into the shower's spray. time to rinse him off while they're talking. he alternates between scuffing his fingers through his hair or combing over the surface as water cascades down. suds slough and drag over muscle and skin before splattering around their feet.]
During the second war, one of the villains' bosses landed a punch right there. The impact blew my heart and lungs apart.
[There was also some funny business involving his own explosive sweat backing up in his overtaxed sweat glands and somehow being forced into his bloodstream to seek for another way out of his body, thus being inside his heart and chest area when the punch landed, but... my jury's a bit still out on that. I mean, it's canon, but... wtf.]
[HELLO?? the world shifts so suddenly when Bakugou pivots him underneath the shower head that Akira swallows a muffled noise of surprise, head bowed as water washes away the cloud of suds that had consumed his hair, leaving his black curls completely soaked. his hand remains resting against the marred skin of Bakugou's chest; the other instinctively grabs at his companion's shoulder, fingers digging into skin as he steadies himself. warn a guy next time!1]
[which is exactly the playfully petulant complaint he'd make if what the other teen said next hadn't completely thrown him]
-- what?
[it may be somewhat comical, the way Akira stares, eyes wide and hair so damp that he looks a bit like a drowned rat]
[did he think he'd be sitting here with shampoo in his hair forever? Bakugo twitches his head back slightly, not wanting to get a bunch of soapy splashback thrown into his face. bleh. he gives a few more ruffles, then lets the shower drag Akira's hair down into whatever mess it wants to give him. thanks for not grabbing onto the scar on his chest, man. luckily it's not the blonde's scarred shoulder, though his shoulder and side scars aren't as occasionally troublesome like the one on his chest.
guess the stunned shock is on the other side now, with Akira's "huh?" expression mirroring Bakugo's when his friend mentioned what and how he stole back home. at least he hadn't looked like a drowned rat in the bookstore.]
My mentor and senpai did their damnest to keep me alive and repair the damage. They let me live.
[the way his voice goes softer, quieter, indicates a rare show of genuine respect for the men he mentions.]
[. . . Akira exhales deeply, relief settling on his shoulders, allowing his entire body to slump as the surprised tension vanishes. that's good. . . that's good, but he can't help but wonder. . .]
How. . .?
[if a man loses his heart and lungs, that's certain death, isn't it? there's no coming back from that. at least. . . that's how things work where Akira comes from]
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peacockstop2025-03-15 09:00 pm
no subject
[Akira's uncertainty slowly morphs into a sharp, impish grin, lips curving up at the corners as he allows his gaze to wash appreciatively across the flush on Bakugou's scarlet features. cute. . . it's very cute. so Sparky has a bashful side after all, huh. . .]
[with towel still wrapped around his waist (not for long, at this rate) Akira slides past his companion, gently nudging Bakugou in the ribs as he does]
Just so you know-- red looks pretty good on you.
[CHEEKY UNTIL THE VERY END]
[anyway yes, he is going to slip into the shower now, pleased as a cat who caught himself a mouse]
no subject
Tch. [what a pain. as soon as the thief's inside, he steps in after him and yanks the curtain back across its rail. not a massive stall, it's trying to encourage people touching, but spacious enough you can avoid grinding if you're willing to pivot and keep close to the walls.
there's an "accidental" knee to the back of the thigh. paybacks for ribbing him. literally.]
Shut up! Or you're gonna be wearing wall tiles. [right, yell at the guy you invited into the shower with you. very charming.]
no subject
[. . . as long as there's enough space for the two of them, Akira won't complain]
You know, that sounds more like a promise than a threat.
[quirking a brow at Bakugou, perfectly suggestive, before he casually tugs the towel away from his waist and tosses it over the side of the stall]
[. . .]
[as far as ass game goes, Akira is. . . average. but what Bakugou might notice most as his companion ducks underneath the water are those back muscles. sleek, lean, well-defined. . . they move freely underneath his skin as he runs his fingers through black, curly locks to dampen them. the only imperfections are those splotches of red-and-blue bruises that proooobably still ache]
no subject
Every threat's a promise.
[cause he's always gotta be a badass somewhere. with a rush of terrycloth, the towel's gone and Bakugo's left taking in an eyeful from the thief. notice? yeah, he notices. being a hero and a fighter, taking in his opponent's physical features is part of the training and instinct. not in the sexy setting, but guess what, turns out it happens there too. red eyes take a quick sweep, noting Akira's back muscles before he even gets to his ass.
someone would look good in a backless catsuit... the fuck was that, brain?!]
You put a lot of work into your back.
no subject
[a small hum, and Akira tilts his head over his shoulder to acknowledge Bakugou, that smile still dancing playfully upon his features]
Not on purpose. [upper body strength was just important for a thief who did a lot of fighting. and a lot of parkour. and a lot of hoisting himself over fences and walls as part of that parkour] I suppose it just sort of shook out that way. . .
[a beat. he shimmies a bit to the side to make room for his companion underneath the shower head]
You coming?
no subject
Bakugo watches water droplets and streams take their course down Akira's contours, tracing around shoulder blades and rippling over the ridges of his spine before licking between muscle cords and vanishing between his cheeks. of course it's gonna end down there.
he flicks his gaze back up, eyebrow arching into his bangs.]
You don't work out? [granted, if Akira was fighting and dodging, running and parkouring every day, that's a workout. cardio, but definitely working out.] Uh-huh.
[somehow doesn't believe the "just happened" flippancy.]
Yeah. [Bakugo steps up beside him and leans into the shower, rubbing his neck and face under its heated spray.]
no subject
I do. Or-- . . . I used to.
[he hasn't kept up with it nearly as well since arriving at the resort. . . or since leaving Tokyo and returning home to his cozy, countryside town, actually. but that's only because his gym rat of a buddy isn't with him. it's more fun working out when you have a friend feeling the burn right along with you]
But I never purposefully targeted my back, I suppose. [though undoubtedly, several of his usual exercises were targeting his back, and he just never realized it] Lean this way a little--
[and now that Bakugou is underneath the water too, don't mind Akira as he reaches out with palms lathered in shampoo to card his fingers through blonde locks for the second time this thread]
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Che. Wuss. You shouldn't let yourself slack off. [if he wants a workout buddy, he's looking at one of the best/worst ones. meaning Bakugo will definitely see to it Akira gets to the gym, but he'll also... definitely see to it Akira gets to the gym. even if it means dragging his ass there or blowing him up the entire way. IF -- the guy asks.]
Hn. Do people's corrupt thoughts require a lot of lifting? [you know, Bakugo's glad Akira told him about the kind of thievery he does. it could've done so much worse, but now he's aware the Phantom Thieves aren't the villains they could have been. sure, if their worlds collided, there'd be some abrasion between heroes and the thieves, given the differing morals, but their goals are mostly aligned, even if their modus operandi differ. it means he can talk with Akira about it, tease him a little. something he wouldn't be doing with a normal thief who delights engaging in crime and wants to share it.
and yeah, he's leaning over. not much need to since the space between them's so slim. Bakugo closes his eyes halfway as fingers lather into his hair. shouldn't feel as good as it does, but... it does.]
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Are you offering to be my accountability buddy?
[because he'll take his friend up on that!! it could be another way to bond!!]
And sometimes they do. [he keeps talking as he works that shampoo up into a nice, soapy later, allowing his fingers to graze gently across Bakugou's scalp. head scritches. . . !] One guy's distorted desires took the shape of a giant crown. It took three of us to carry it out of the treasure room.
[once Bakugou's beautiful locks are all soaped up, Akira slides his hands behind his companion's neck, pressing them flat against warm skin as he gently tugs Bakugou forward, back underneath the shower spray. rinse!]
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[yes, that's an offer. yes, that's also a threat. Bakugo will be both accountable and efficient, which also means he'll be there each time and expecting Akira to answer. whatever method they end up working out to make it happen. of course life exceptions will happen and he's not so inflexible he's a tyrant. buuut... he has high expectations of himself, and often of those he's with.
if Akira gives him his all, he'll make sure it's returned with interest.
... and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in spending more time with Akira.]
A crown? What was his desire, riches or ruling? [likely one of those, unless fame and admiration ended up being 'the royal' treatment in this guy's mind. he tilts his head a few times to move Akira's massaging, scritching fingers to different places. mind the welt. feels good, seeing his shoulders and arms relaxing, back easing some tension.
he steps into the spray, moving his head this way and that to let the water pour through and rinse off. now he's swiping the bottle to return the favor.]
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[and that's true! if he makes a promise, he keeps it, no matter how difficult it might be. even if he has been slacking on his exercise routine lately. if Bakugou has expectations, Akira will be sure to rise to them!!]
[. . . though he makes a bit of a face at what his companion asks next, fingers sliding away from Bakugou's neck as the shampoo suds are washed away]
We could talk about what an asshole he was, but it'll be a complete mood killer. So let's not.
[he cannot think about Kamoshida without completely losing any and all desire to fuck around. and he very much wants to fuck around, thank you very much. he isn't going to let bad memories stop him!!]
How's the water temperature? Too hot?
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[instinctively, he was ready to growl at Akira for his readiness at the butt crack of dawn to begin that regimen. but... guess if he's gonna be his workout partner, he can take into account what the other guy likes first. (this is called being friends, but Bakugo's allergic to the word.) he trusts the other guy to honor his word.]
All right. But I'm gonna wanna hear about it another time. [Bakugo's not usually one for trading stories, as it often turns into stupid things he finds boring or pathetic. but stories about kicking ass and being heroes? more chances to hook his interest. he wants to know more about Akira's work as a Phantom Thief.]
Haa? If I had a complaint, I would've changed it already! [with a snatch, flip, and spurt, shampoo swirls in hips palm. back goes the bottle and Bakugou presses his hands together for a quick spread and smear, then works both hands' fingers into Akira's hair from either side of his head in an upward motion, bringing his palms flush to this skull in a practiced flank.
so professional. now scrub scrub, mush mush, massage massage.]
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Mornings.
[look at him! giving the responsible answer!! the part about discussing Kamoshida later gets an affirmative noise, but otherwise no further acknowledgement. he is too busy focusing on the way those fingers slide into his hair, eyes slipping shut as a content hum-- almost a purr-- buzzes on his lips]
[. . . hm. seems like Bakugou has figured out the best way to shut him up. new power: unlocked]
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poor Akira. completely unaware Bakugo's the guy who's in his room by 9 and asleep by 10, so he can get up at 5-fucking-30 in the morning and start his day. does this place even have clocks? guess he can compromise with Akira and go get him later in the morning. do his own run/exercise when he wakes and the real training further on.]
I'll come get you then. [mr. responsible. currently semi-distracted by his hand in Akira's hair. black becomes white frothed as he works the suds in, making sure to get behind his ears and above his nape. should he give Akira devil horns, liberty spikes, or a giant volcano? ... or keep making him hum/purr like this.
head massages get a melted joker, huh? he'll remember that.]
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[whatever fiendish hairstyle thoughts Bakugou is having go completely unacknowledged as Akira continues to relish in that attention, head lolling to the side, almost as though seeking out the touch of Bakugou's fingers. the motion is truly feline-like; between that and the purring, he might be mistaken for a giant, human-shaped house cat. which would not be an incorrect impression of him, all things considered]
[. . .]
[a hand settles against the flat of Bakugou's chest, palm pressed against damp, warm skin, fingers slightly splayed. he keeps it there for the time being, not yet allowing it to meander, to trace the lines of those scars he had admired earlier. perhaps this is just his way of silently asking for permission]
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look, while Bakugo thinks he's more a dog person since they're more active and awesome, he's not against cats since they're little bastards with pride rivaling his own. plus quieter and less management. and their attitude's very similar to Bakugo's own. he leans into the hand resting on his chest slightly, firm muscle flexing a little on instinct. there's no effort to shake him off or deny the potential exploration. it's been almost a year since he arrived, so... the wounds have all healed.]
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[. . . and he honestly doesn't mind it]
[that purr turns into a pleased hum as he cracks one eye open, gaze heavy and lidded, irises dark underneath the shadow of his lashes. his lips curve into a grin, only slightly sharp around the edges, considering how bonelessly content he feels in the moment. his fingers begin to move, seeking out the raised edges of scarred skin, tracing the shapes he can find with attentive reverence]
[he could say something-- he should say something-- but for some reason, he feels like words would just ruin the moment]
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but considering how thorough and efficient he is, why wouldn't he want to put the same 100% energy into washing someone's hair? they're giving him their head to treat, putting it in his hands, and he'll do his damnest to give them the utmost best! pride's a bitch.
Akira's a purring, humming cat and he wonders for a few seconds what that would feel like pressed against him. vibrating body, rumbling throat, tiny tremors through his arms and legs. he meets those dark irises, shadowed under his lashes and currently clear of the normal curly veil of bangs. and smooths all that mass right backwards over his head, forming a slicked sculpture.
a low exhale and tiny shudder are the first indications there's something sensitive about the scar on his chest, particularly towards the center of it. his body never did decide permanently what kind of sensitivity reaction they'd have, so it's always a toss up when someone touches his scars.]
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Hn. . .?
[a curious noise interrupts Akira's thoughts, and he opens his eyes fully as his gaze flickers down towards that jagged shape cut across Bakugou's chest. honestly. . . it's actually quite stunning. is it weird to think that? to wholeheartedly believes that scars like this are beautiful? to him, it's a magnificent homage to whatever hardships that Bakugou had managed to survive. . . a marking worthy of attention and admiration, to prove that pain and suffering don't make anyone less worthy]
[. . .]
[his fingers dip closer towards the center, though. . . he's starting to think that his hands aren't nearly enough]
It doesn't hurt, does it?
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No.
[a large burst radiating from the center of his chest, torn open as if something exploded from the inside out. slightly raised scar tissue around the edges, smooth throughout most of its breadth, with a nigh-imperceptible line in the middle. where the sutures held it together at the very end. quite the injury. would Akira believe him if he said he was basically dead because of it?
no less noticeable than the ones on his shoulder and lower side, and cheek. four marks of his strength and survival. four marks branding on his body the lengths he went to as a hero.
his hands slow slightly when Akira begins to inch his fingers towards the nucleus.]
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Mm. . .
[he stops when his hand reaches the center of the healed-over injury, once again pressing his palm flat against smooth skin, fingers stretched towards the raised edges. after another moment of hesitation, he takes a step closer, further into Bakugou's personal space, close enough that he can feel the warmth of his companion's body in addition to that of the shower steam]
What happened. . .?
[if Bakugou doesn't mind him asking]
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as Akira steps forward, Bakugo moves to pivot them and bring the other boy into the shower's spray. time to rinse him off while they're talking. he alternates between scuffing his fingers through his hair or combing over the surface as water cascades down. suds slough and drag over muscle and skin before splattering around their feet.]
During the second war, one of the villains' bosses landed a punch right there. The impact blew my heart and lungs apart.
[There was also some funny business involving his own explosive sweat backing up in his overtaxed sweat glands and somehow being forced into his bloodstream to seek for another way out of his body, thus being inside his heart and chest area when the punch landed, but... my jury's a bit still out on that. I mean, it's canon, but... wtf.]no subject
[which is exactly the playfully petulant complaint he'd make if what the other teen said next hadn't completely thrown him]
-- what?
[it may be somewhat comical, the way Akira stares, eyes wide and hair so damp that he looks a bit like a drowned rat]
But that's-- wouldn't you--
[BE DEAD??]
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guess the stunned shock is on the other side now, with Akira's "huh?" expression mirroring Bakugo's when his friend mentioned what and how he stole back home. at least he hadn't looked like a drowned rat in the bookstore.]
My mentor and senpai did their damnest to keep me alive and repair the damage. They let me live.
[the way his voice goes softer, quieter, indicates a rare show of genuine respect for the men he mentions.]
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How. . .?
[if a man loses his heart and lungs, that's certain death, isn't it? there's no coming back from that. at least. . . that's how things work where Akira comes from]
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