👿 Open Post 3

[blastedass]

Open Post

What to hit up Bakugo for some action? Feel free to do whatever here!



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[blastedass]

[it's because the bastard can't feel that bakugou had the idea of doing some patchwork. obviously dabi's taken care of himself well enough to make it to today, but no one's going to look at that stapled-together quilt of scarred and healthy flesh and give him a clean bill of health. actually, he's probably good there too, considering the temperatures his body can reach. that hand on the back of his neck hadn't been a natural warmth, especially since they were still "in battle" at the time. why the hell does he even give a shit whether dabi's taken care of or not? the bastard's murdered and he's not even bakugou's responsibility! as a hero, he should just bash the charred idiot in the back of his head and drag his unconscious ass to the police! ... except he's not a burned-up piece of crap yet either. bakugou might be a raging brat, but he's not going to break an agreed-upon truce. he's got self-respect.

not that it doesn't feel good to be a dick back and dismiss the villain's offer to come together. instead, he'll keep his back to dabi and work on his pants. belt clicking open with a flick of leather across the buckle and pin, followed by the telltale snap of the button being popped open. bakugou's never going to not be damn proud of being the huge pain in the ass he was to the league. they brought him in, thinking they knew who he was, and fuck all of them for overstepping their dumb brains. can't even think for themselves and they have the gall to try and think for him.

that said, tossing his pants at dabi is a nice bit of revenge. clad in just a pair of black boxer briefs with an orange hem, bakugou glances over his shoulder with a wry expression. huh, the guy's moved. left his pants on the floor, as expected, but he's near the counter this time. ah, getting rid of his boots. the blonde's brow twitches in mild annoyance when dabi chucks his boots to the side, their weight making an obvious noise when they land. bastard, doing that on purpose. and being annoying for the pure sake of it...

bakugou growls softly in his throat when the villain threatens to climb into the tub with most of his clothes on. oh he knows dabi'll do it too. granted, what he's wearing could probably use a run through the wash...] That your way of asking to spend the night, you charred freeloader?

[good thing that counter's bolstered over cabinets and not free-hanging on a brace. there goes the command. "cmere" - simple and curt. bakugou eyes dabi for two seconds, then walks off to the shower. sticks a hand under it to check the temperature of the water. and only then, on his own time, does he turn around and head back to dabi. makes a damn point of picking up a few scattered medical supplies as well (since he's there) and setting them on the counter near the wall. just in case this catty prick feels the need to swat them off again.]

Fucking inconvenience. Can't even take off your own pants. [bakugou flicks him off, then sets his hands on dabi's hem to work the fly open with a pop. he's deft and confident with the actions, middle finger hooking over the man's zipper and dragging it down from top to bottom. at least dabi's gone for loser pants instead of trying to squeeze into form-fitting crap. leaning in closer, bakugou rims his thumbs over the hem and fans his fingers across the sides of the villain's pants, getting a secure hold.] Lift your hips.

[SHUCK!!]

[skinstitch]

Freeloader. You wound me.

( he doesn't, and the insult doesn't matter to him. after all, does it really matter? is he supposed to cry and apologize for the burden that he's putting on some poor little rich kid in a nice neighborhood? the world made him what he is now: endeavor, his stupid mother, everyone else, and if the world doesn't want to give him anything back, that doesn't matter, either. he'll take what he needs and get what he has to in order to make it to the end, and if that means bakugou becomes the casualty--or more accurately, that his parents' house becomes the casualty--then he'll freeload some hot water and soap. or, better yet, he'll mail him back some of that money he stole, along with some soap from the convenience store... yeah, that's a good, petty sort of plan.

for now, anyway, bakugou is all bark and no bite. part of that is the subtle, tentative agreement they seem to have, without saying anything out loud, that while this will likely devolve into the same kind of fucking around that every other time has devolved into, he won't be killing the kid or burning his house down, and in turn, bakugou won't be turning him over to the police or the pro heroes. the truce suits him just fine, since he's just a worthless freeloader, of course: but does it bother bakugou? does it bother him to care about some bag of skin and bones held together by spite and staples?

a click of his tongue in disappointment, as bakugou heads for the shower instead of where he's seated. )

Don't your friends stay over all the time? You call them freeloaders too? Thought we'd have a nice lil' slumber party, y'know, gossip about boys and stuff.

( he's grinning despite himself, wide and wild, as bakugou turns to head back to him. figured that the kid would give it up eventually. still, to his chagrin, he stays quiet as he angles his hips up for bakugou to pop his fly open and work down the zipper. of course, he's not going to move an inch while bakugou tries to get the rest of the material down; he just stares at him, one brow lifted in challenge.

--and then, right when he's sure the vein in bakugou's forehead will burst, he leans back on his palms and pushes his hips up, allowing his pants to come off in a tumble down his legs. he's got black boxer briefs on underneath, but that's about all that's left on him. )

So you want me to stay the night? ( yep, swinging right back into conversation with a wolfish grin. ) I will.

[blastedass]

Shut up.

[if dabi was "wounded" by that kind of shit, he'd never had made it to this moment in life. bakugou would've treated him even worse if the man started crying and moping about anything to his face. wouldn't respond all that well to being called a "rich kid" either. his family's comfortable and well off, but not as wealthy as the todorokis or the yaoyorozu families. and he's never identified as "rich" in the first place, so fuck you, bacon face. they can get into arguments later about who or what is to blame for dabi's current life situation. bakugou will have a mixture of agreement and flat out rejection if/when they have such a conversation. he's not that merciful to villains who stupidly run from their own responsibilities like cowards. but there are a few villains he might give a bit of a shit about. apparently dabi's one of them. don't ask him why; it's happening and he's not questioning himself right now. (you send back that soap and he'll hold onto it just so he can bean it off your stupid spiky scorched skull at a later date.)

don't make him show you what kind of bite he has... dabi knows what bakugou can do with his mouth, if the previous times have been any indication. the strange truce they have is unspoken, wasn't even agreed upon verbally, but simply accepted when it bloomed and that's been that the entire time. mutual exploitation rather than trust. even if the explosive blonde still retains his intention to give dabi a clean up and attempted doctoring. this close to him, bakugou can pick out some missing staples, a small bruise, a few cuts. nothing that'll slow dabi down, but things that wouldn't hurt to get treated for the fuck of it. if the guy'll let him later on...

yes, it does bother him to give a shit about dabi, but that's something he'll have to confront about himself personally. this man's insane, but there's something about him that's pathetically sad. such a fucking waste.]

Che- No. Haven't had anyone staying over at my place for a few years now. [mostly because he'd focused on getting into U.A. and heroics during his middle-school years. didn't have time for people coming to his house and interrupting his work with a sleepover. once he got into U.A., that didn't change, and when they moved into the dorms, that option was completely thrown out the window. hell, it's rare for bakugou to even be in his room, coming back home just for holidays or a rare long weekend.]

Better not gossip about other guys. [and gives a rough tug on dabi's pants right before the man finally lifts his stupid hips to help. jerk.] I might get jealous.

[as if he would. he has no claim on dabi and neither of them are one for relationships. but he's gonna be a brat to him regardless. fair's fair. he shucks the pants off the villain's legs, one hand tossing them over his shoulder to the floor, the other landing a "punch" on dabi's pelvis for not moving his hips faster. on purpose. the black boxer briefs aren't bad and bakugou fingers the hem once or twice, letting it pull and snap back against the man's hips. stay the night? ... tsk, he clicks his tongue before bracing his hands on the counter on either side of dabi's thighs and leaning forward over the man's body. enough to drive dabi's shoulders against the mirror, reach his mouth, and kiss the man firmly on his lips. half healthy, half burned, the taste of smoke and metal hinting in the touch.]

Better stay the damn night now...

[skinstitch]

( it's incredibly fucking annoying, is what it is. that fake punch of annoyance to his pelvis, a bit of pressure there like he's being scolded for not doing as he's been told--the cold glass of the mirror against bare shoulders, where he can only feel bits of it staggered from the healthy skin to the damaged, and finally, the weight of a warm, eager mouth on his, driving him back. he wants so badly to blurt out words and taunts and insults, and instead he's forced to reckon with bakugou's mouth and tongue, and the pressure there renders him unable to find any of it, tearing away from the kiss only after a moment to rock himself forward.

curled over the counter now like a gargoyle on the edge of a building, he lifts a hand to take bakugou's jaw between his fingers, gripping it firmly, pinching the skin in and holding his head steady so he can look at him.

and he's a handsome kid, all things considered. that's probably at least half, maybe more than half, of the reason why he keeps coming back, or keeps letting bakugou demand that he comes back, whatever it means; nothing wrong with having sex with someone hot. there's a wild determination in his eyes, a stubbornness that he can both recognize and appreciate there, pretty hair, sharp jaw, full lips. even if most of the time he's fucking screaming his head off, he still looks good in the interim and all places in between. )

Yeah? Be jealous, then. You think I'm only sleeping with you?

( neither of them have any kind of claim on each other--but he would damn well make bakugou's life a living hell if he were sleeping with someone else, and his own words are just a bluff on the tease of bakugou's tone, too. he's not going to analyze that, just as bakugou isn't going to analyze why he gives a shit about a villain. instead, he peaks into another grin, staples stretching slightly with the effort. )

Maybe if you beg me, I'll stop and stay the night with you.

( that hand goes down, squeezing bakugou's jaw, the top of his neck, down to the thick width of his throat--but he only gropes over it for a moment before he drops his hand, pushing instead at bakugou's bare shoulder to force him to stumble a few steps back and give him room to hop down off the counter. he's not going to shower in his underwear: but on his feet again, he pulls them off himself, pushes them to his ankles and steps out of them without any sort of qualms or encouragement.

rather, it's a bright look of challenge that meets bakugou's expression, once, before he turns away, intending to get in the shower first without a care in the world. )

[blastedass]

[he didn't do what he was told, dammit! what's dabi want, a fucking prize for being a disagreeable brat?! he's lucky bakugou didn't flat out slug him in the dick. and yet, the blonde's the one that finally takes "shut up" as the way to go forward, silencing the villain with a heated kiss. it feels strange, but he's used to it now, the dual-sensation of dabi's lips being divided between healthy and smooth and scarred and stapled. best part is he can sense how much the man wants to shoot back some stupid ass comment, but he can't since his mouth's busy with another one shoved against it. eh, that's half the reason bakugou likes kissing dabi in the first damn place. he lets the man be the one to break the kiss, smirking at the way he jerks his head to the side to separate them and then stepping back when he's pushed.

bakugou tilts his head up as that hand grapples his jaw, setting them with a defiant grit of his teeth when dabi takes his skin between his fingers and holds him. feels like he's getting fucking evaluated and he glares right back at the man looking him over, not bothered about meeting those turquoise eyes.

despite the scars and staples and piercings, there's no denying dabi's an attractive man himself. bakugou doesn't consider himself a shallow person, but he's still human, a teenager with libido, and they likely wouldn't have bothered doing this even once if the other didn't find his partner appealing. between the calm heat in dabi's eyes and the arrogant, controlled attitude hiding that wild streak, bakugou has a begrudging acceptance of his own attraction to the man. not that he'd ever put that into words.]

That was sarcasm, you idiot. [granted it was a sarcastic tease, but if dabi's gonna be a dick about it, he'll return fire. of course he knows the man's fucking other people; there's way less entertainment in the underbelly of society. and he's not pretending for a second to have any claim on dabi, same as he knows the man has no claim on him. even if he might think it. cause the man's a crispy bastard. whether or not bakugou's fucking around with other guys, however, will simply have to be left up to the villain's imagination.]

Fuck you. I don't beg. [he's banking on the promise of a warm bed, good meal, safe company, and calm area to be the allure dabi needs to stay. bakugou turns his head slightly when the man grips his jaw, flexes his neck as that warm hand slides down his throat, and curls his lips in brief warning before dabi drops his hand to his shoulder and shoves him. he'd have had a flicker of a worse ptsd reaction if the villain had grabbed the back of his neck instead of his throat, but luckily that wasn't the case.

bakugou steps back, catching his balance easily, and shoves his hands down his hips to shed his own boxer briefs while dabi does the same. that challenging look earns a quick scoff as the blonde steps out of his underwear and follows the villain into the shower. bastard got a head start and he's not going to try and cram past him and break something. the shower's big enough for two and the water's already warm by the time they get in. he lets dabi have the first soak under the stream, shutting the glass door behind them.]

[skinstitch]

( he's not going to praise bakugou for it, but it is sort of nice to step into a shower and not be met with rattling pipes or a lukewarm, half-prone spray of petty water pressure; there's real heat to this shower, the sort that's meant to melt into sore muscles and weary bones and make things tolerable again, and even though he only feels it mostly by proxy, it's nice to sink in under the spray and not have to wait for it to soak all the way through to his roots for minutes on end. most of the places they sleep, bathe, eat, plan, fuck around in, are safe houses that are two inches away from collapsing entirely, or empty, abandoned buildings with no hope of a good shower or even a mirror. it's like a gift to be in a nice, residential house with a nice shower and probably a nice warm bed, somewhere.

which, of course, is probably what bakugou is after. catching flies with honey, or whatever the saying is--that he'll place comfort for the night over his own pride of staying in the brat's house. and he just might, this time: at least depending on how the shower goes.

for now, he faces the spray, lifts both hands and runs them back through messy, tangled hair to start to work out the knots there, rinse out the blood and smoke and dirt that's gathered there just from a day's work. with the glass door shut on them both, the spacious shower becomes a little less spacious, but he doesn't much care. for now, bakugou seems content to lurk behind him in the cold, so let him lurk. with a slow breath, lifting his shoulders and forcing them back down again, he pulls his head back, rubbing and rinsing his hands off in the spray instead. )

Heard you beg before. ( yeah, he's circling around to it again, now that he's had some time to consider it--and get his head under hot water. rather than ask, he's already knocking one hand around the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, soap, shaving cream, anything he can touch at in the shower to decide what he wants to use, lifting up one bottle to peer at it and decide it's good enough. he flips the top and squirts some shampoo into his other hand. ) So don't go lying to me now.

( maybe it's not right to classify the way that bakugou gets during sex as begging--but it's going to piss him off to think about it, so he leaves it there with a faint, pleased smile. dumping the bottle back down, he lifts his hands: and turns on his heels, advancing on bakugou instead to immediately plunge his fingers, and the shampoo in his palm, into his dry head. luckily, there's some backlash spray from the shower that's gotten it damp, at least: he uses that to start to painfully work bakugou's hair into a lather. )

[blastedass]

[he would have given dabi a weird look if he did start throwing compliments, figuring they were sarcastic or mockery rather than anything sincere. but luckily there are no words and they can both get in the shower without bothering with an argument. he doesn't have any illusions about the sorry state the league and other villains find themselves in on the slums of society. dirty showers, stolen baths, going without, far removed from the relative "luxury" of heroes and decent civilians. tch, many of them chose that life for themselves, no matter what sort of story or blame they want to spew up to absolve themselves. unfortunate as it is. and yet, here he is, leaving room in the shower for a known villain to take a respite under the hot spray and wash off a few days' worth of grime and dirt.

the worst part is... if things had been different, dabi wouldn't be in this state. as he watches the water run down the villain's back, following the trails of liquid along healthy flesh, purple scarred skin, staples holding the seams together, and the sinewy muscle of street-wrung strength, he wonders what sort of life this guy would've had as a hero. so much power inside him, so much fucking promise... wasted on this rage and whatever his insane goal is. pity? no. disappointment? not really. frustration? yeah, that's more like it. frustrated and irritated over whoever or whatever sent dabi towards that path, and the same towards dabi for deciding to step forward onto it.

he breaks from his thoughts as dabi moves his hands, noting the way his fingers card through his dark spikes and work some knots out. along with whatever else has been fouling it up. leaving him to that, the blonde cups his hands under the mist of water bouncing off dabi's shoulders and arms, stepping in closer to let himself take some of the second-hand spray. he's not gonna lurk in the cold for that long, asshole. this was an invite to share the shower, not hog it while taking turns. bastard. it's tempting to grab some of that hair and give his head a tug back and down just to be a dick.]

That wasn't begging, asshole! That was demanding. Fuck. [if a guy's voice could be a middle finger, his is right now. shit, heat crawls across his face at the reminder and he shoves the memories away. quick reactions means he catches the bottle of conditioner dabi knocks off the shelf and replaces it while the man squirts his prize into his hand. the rest are spared a trip to the floor and he backs off to give the villain time to lather himself up. the shampoo is a nice quality, a given due to his mother and father both working in the fashion industry. while he doesn't give too much a shit about having "fancy" brand name crap, he's not a guy who settles for cheap either. he takes care of himself, thanks.]

OY! [too busy with replacing the bottle, he doesn't realize dabi's nefarious plans until fingers suddenly dig into his hair. muscular shoulders tense and hunch upward, neck cords hardening as that gross feeling of lathered-up skin shoving into dry hair crawls across his spine and head.] I'M BARELY EVEN DAMP, DAMMIT!! [yeah it's by far the worst feeling to have, but dabi knows what he's doing and why, so is he really surprised about the reaction? the rough scrubbing and lathering doesn't help either and the teenager bristles and tries to jockey with dabi for a better (wetter) position in the shower, one hand grabbing (but not stopping) the villain's forearm] You trying to rip out my hair? Slow down, idiot!

[dabi's totally doing this on purpose.]

[skinstitch]

( begging, demanding, same difference, really. does intent really matter when the actions are the same anyway? a whimper of a please, a demand of a don't stop, they all just end up with the same result, and can be left up to his own interpretation anyway. that's how the whole world works, right? it's not the same thing at all, but what does it matter--the wires get crossed any which way in a head where his thoughts and plans all center on one thing, so he doesn't care. did it really matter what endeavor's intent was for anything, when the actions were all the same in the end? he doesn't give a shit about intent. if bakugou sounds like he's begging to him, then he's begging, and that's that. it helps that it pisses him off so much to be misinterpreted, too. is the kid blushing? what a cutie.

he's doing it on purpose, and the reaction is exactly what he wants out of it. yelling, arguing, complaining: it makes his lips spread into a wider grin, damaged skin stretching and pleading with the edges where it connects with healthier skin. still, a shower is a shower, and bakugou isn't going to get clean with just forcefully working his hair up into a half-assed lather. so with his hands gripped into those strands, he pulls, using the weight of bakugou's body and the tension in his fingers to swing and guide him sidelong, jerking him halfway under the shower spray. there they stand, half in, half out, and with the water pooling into bakugou's hair, dabi can finally really start to scrub. )

Such a fucking whiner. ( there's a click of his tongue when he says it, but he doesn't really care. he's the one that's making the whole situation as difficult as possible: he could make it easier and avoid all this to begin with, but he's in a perpetual bad mood and even the warm heat of the shower hasn't soaked that out of him yet. ) I'm being generous.

( at the very least, he does slow down a little: he's surprisingly thorough about the way he rakes through bakugou's hair, working the shampoo down to his roots, soaping up his hair until it's got a healthy amount of white foam to it. )

Feel good? Time for a rinse. ( rather than ask, he just uses his grip to once again skid bakugou sideways, until he's under the spray entirely. there, he continues his handiwork, working all the shampoo suds out of his hair with a contented little grin. ) Hope your eyes are closed.

Now what, you do conditioner or whatever? High maintenance.

[blastedass]

[there's a huge fucking difference, dammit! and he's 100% sure dabi would agree if he got those damn noises dragged out of him too. the actions might be the same, but bakugou's going down with the ship "demand not beg" before admitting he did the latter regarding dabi's activities with him. doesn't fucking whimper either! bastard. if dabi doesn't care, then he's got no fucking right to say it was one way or another. cause then that'd be caring. hah. eat that logic, bacon face. bakugou doesn't want to get into the villain's head at least. their time together is as much removed from hero vs villain as possible if bakugou has a say in it. they can have those arguments and fights later. when they're not standing in the shower, silently fighting over who gets how much of the shower spray or whether the other guy needs some unasked-for help with his fucking hair. AND HE'S NOT BLUSHING, GODDAMMIT!! HE'S GETTING READY TO SPLATTER YOUR PATCHWORK FACE ALL OVER THE SHOWER!!

of course dabi's doing it on purpose. he knows that the second he sees the other man's shit grin through his barely-dripping bangs, now getting stuffed with shampoo lather without much water to buffer it. tch, bastard really needs to take care of his skin better; looks like it's just shy of splitting open again. tch, he'll wrestle some treatment on dabi later. after he's doing trying to wrestle out of his grip on his hair. a sharp yelp comes out when the man suddenly gives a yank with two fistfuls of his hair and basically swing/guides him through the shower via that hold on his hair.] What the fuck, you asshole?! [his legs move with the motion, both hands grabbing dabi's wrists as he steps through the shower as that jerk (action and person) end up heaving him into the shower spray. halfway at least. bakugou comes up, tugging his head and glaring down the length of dabi's arms into the other man's face. if looks could kill...

he says nothing for a few seconds, just SCOWLING at him with his lower lip jutted out, upper lip curled into a snarl, and his brows furrowed like arrows towards his eyes. at least until the gremlin expression lets him surreptitiously gather half a mouthful of water (soapy water), which bakugou promptly spits in a little stream into dabi's face. petulant teenager move there. least he keeps it at dabi's nose and mouth, deliberately avoids his eyes. doesn't want him bitching about getting some soap in there.]

Wait'll I get my fucking hands in your hair, prick. [what goes around comes around, bastard. he's got nothing on bakugou's perpetual bad mood! but the blonde stays relatively still, resting his hands on dabi's forearms for the time being. less out of obedience and more out of not wanting to get his hair tugged out at the roots.] I'll show you generous.

[yeah, totally makes that a threat. since dabi's being a little more gentle, bakugou waits for him instead of fighting, fingers unconsciously fluttering over the inside of the man's forearms. it's not entirely surprising that dabi's thorough with his wash. even if he looks like a wreck, the villain has to have some precision knowledge and detailed handiwork if he's doing those staples and keeping his health on his own. once he's got enough lather and water together, it feels a lot better and bakugou relaxes into the raking, scrubbing motions through his hair.]

Feels like shit. [not that he's gonna admit dabi did well eno- rinse?] THE FUCK, YOU BASTARD?! [what is with him and slinging him around the shower via his hair?! it's not a "sling", he's just being an over-reactive asshole as dabi skids him into the water. now fully under the spray, bakugou stands soaped and glaring at dabi as the shampoo cascades down his body, accenting muscles and definitions before falling into splatters around their feet.] Tch, I'm not getting soap in my eyes.

[though that does mean he has to close them occasionally, so dabi gets a reprieve from that glare.]

Urusei. It's basic conditioner. Green bottle. [bakugou reaches out and deliberately ruffles one hand through dabi's hair, fluffing at the spikes a few times. it's soft enough.] Your hair's not pure shit bar soap either.

[skinstitch]

( he might not jerk back from getting water spat in his face, or even when bakugou's fingers brush, gentle, along the inside of his forearms, a touch that feels a little too intimate, a little too uncomfortable--but he does, surprisingly, jerk a little when bakugou's hand ruffles up through his hair, as though testing the quality of it.

it's such an unexpected thing, he reasons, or maybe it's just that he's been the one jerking bakugou around, pulling him here and there and touching him how he pleases, that he doesn't really expect it; either way, his weight shifts, just a little, on his heels, but the movement is enough to knock his knee into that neat line of bottles bakugou rearranged before, the result of his careless hunting for shampoo. they topple and fall down into the basin of the shower beneath them: he snorts, a crackle of a laugh as he drops his hands and immediately swats bakugou's arm away.

basic conditioner, sure. green bottle, whatever. with a great, grievous sort of sigh, he bends at the middle, launching one long arm down to rustle through the fallen bottles and pluck up the right one. he eyes the label just for a moment, squinting, before he palms a hand down his face; there's still water there from bakugou's little spitting moment, after all. )

Yeah, there's a reason for that. ( sure, dyeing damaged hair is possible, but it's important for it to stay as healthy as he can manage in order to maintain the upkeep while he waits, patiently, for all the pieces of his plan to fall into place. ) Gotta make sure I keep attracting hot little shits like you.

( a tease, spread into a smirk, but he does at least wring bakugou's wet hair out a little before he squirts conditioner into it, starting at the roots as he drops the bottle and lets it clatter to their feet with the rest. there, methodical, he puts both hands into it, massaging and raking in through the strands, working conditioner out to the tips before he wipes his hands off on bakugou's chest, bracing his wrists on his shoulders to catch the spray of the water and clean them entirely. )

Okay, you're cooking for a few minutes. Get out of the way.

( hey, at least he isn't pulling him by his hair to get his ass out of the shower spray. progress. )

[blastedass]

[what'd he want him to do, grab his arms and hang on like a fucking gorilla? though he has noticed that dabi gets a little annoyed if he messes with him lightly, so there are rare times he'll do that on purpose. just to get a little rile out of dabi. he snorts when the villain tugs back from his hand in his hair, the smooth corner of his mouth hooking up in a satisfied look. ruffled up a bit, dabi?

maybe the guy thought he was going to grab his hair and give him a yank. no. he'll do that later. watching dabi pull back on the round of his heels slightly in response gives a breezy rush through his chest in pleasure. normally the man's annoyingly composed, so breaking through some of that surface pleases him. at least until dabi knocks into the bottles and sends them clattering to the shower ground again. some are aluminum, most are plastic, and he still tries to shove a hand and leg out to instinctively catch and grab any that he can. mostly because he doesn't want to deal with a bunch of fucking slimy liquid splurts all over the damn floor making their footing slippery! it gets his hand away from dabi's head.]

Are you this fucking destructive on purpose? [does shigaraki and the league have to deal with this grown-up brat walking through whatever kitchen place they've got and swatting things off the counter for no reason? when dabi reaches for the bottle among the rest, he sets the two he caught back on the shelf, another one resting by his foot, but three lying on the ground from the fall. tch. tempting to "accidentally" kick him in the hand for his troubles...]

What, sneaking some good shampoo while the others aren't looking? [jab jab jab. unknowing of dabi's plans or intents, just knowing they're not good, he's left to his imagination of what the reason is. heh, it's nice seeing him wipe the water off his face. some water, some spit. only to give him a flat expression at the "real" reason.] Bullshit. That's a fucking hedgehog head, not a magnet.

[not that he's one to talk... giving his head back to dabi to work, he rubs at his own shoulder in the meantime, massaging the muscle and joint. a brief growl comes out when the bottle's dropped on purpose this time. probably trying to break it. but with dabi starting to work the slicker liquid into his hair, he keeps quiet and lets him work. up to the hands getting wiped on his chest, which earns a brief flex of his pectorals. he shrugs his shoulders under dabi's hands as they clean off in the spray, then steps out of the shower spray to let the conditioner do its work.]

Cooking? Seriously? [and quickly hooks a foot over the shampoo bottle on the floor before dabi gets the idea to kick it or something, pulling it back to himself like a soccer player. then promptly tucks his toes under the side and throws it up with a quick hike of his leg, catching it in his hand with a "swack" sound. took two seconds.] You're lucky you're already wet.

[time to dump some shampoo into his hand and go after dabi's hair.]

[skinstitch]

Anyone at your shitty little school ever tell you that you're no fun?

( seriously, this kid runs his mouth so much that he's giving toga a run for her money. even she knows when to keep quiet, or at the very least, falls into lulls of silence once in awhile. every single thing that he says gets picked apart and growled at by bakugou, like he's some dog with absolutely no desire to let go of his chew toy. in some ways, it's almost amusing watching bakugou puff up at everything, like a balloon ready to pop with too much air; sometimes, he just wants to take him by the throat and tell him to shut his damn mouth.

whatever. look, he's basting in the conditioner, so cooking was an applicable metaphor. still, at the very least, bakugou does ease out of the shower spray in order to let the conditioner sit, which means that he can elbow his way into it, letting the water soak down his front. with both hands, he lifts to cup some water and rub, lightly, over his own face, completely ignorant to bakugou's shampoo desires--

--at least until he sees him, behind one shoulder, coming for him with a palm full of shampoo. )

Nuh uh. ( twisting on his heels, putting his back to the shower spray, he lets it cascade and fall over his head and shoulders; it creates a hot spatter in front of him, flicks of water drenched on bakugou's face, his shoulders, his chest. one of his own wet hands lifts, bracing the heel of his palm against bakugou's chest, as though he'll be able to hold him back with just that weighted against him. ) What, you think you get rights to touch me 'cause I touched you?

( one of those wide, annoying grins-- ) Ask nicely, then you can. Come on, I'm sure mommy and daddy taught you some manners.

[blastedass]

I'm more fucking fun than you know what to do with, dammit, bar-slumming Bacon Face!

[Maybe if SOMEONE would shut the fuck up, he wouldn't have a reason to run his damn mouth! Ever think of that?! HAA?! Not like Dabi isn't saying things deliberately designed to rile the explosive blonde up. He's not an idiot and he talks shit all the time too! Don't bitch at him about keeping a chew toy when you're obsessively smacking the damn beehive over and over! Tch, goddamn bastard. Bakugou really wishes he didn't find the guy tolerable enough to prevent himself from throwing Dabi's naked ass out the damn window. Or pin him to the wall and make him shut the fuck up...

Tch, he's not "basting" in conditioner. It's soaking into his hair. Basting would mean everywhere! Bakugou grunts when Dabi's bony elbow catches his side and he barely misses kneeing the older man in the ass for his troubles. Have the fucking shower spray, dammit. He's got other things to contend with. Chief among them being getting his hands in that bushy stupid hair of his. With Dabi distracted by rubbing water over his face, Bakugou's got ample time to lather his hands up and then come at the the villain with shampoo-covered grenade blasters and a palm of shampoo to boot.]

GET BACK HERE!! [Don't you fucking "nuh-uh" him after you spent five minutes dragging him around the shower by his roots! Bakugou jerks both hands away, one up and one out to the side to avoid getting Dabi's sudden water-spray shoulder shooters all over the shampoo. It definitely gives Bakugou a nice view of the villain's front, water cascading down from head to toe, but that hand plastered to the center of his chest earns Dabi a grunt and a glare, teeth set in annoyance at getting stopped on his mission. Bakugou goes up on the ball of one foot, toes braced to the shower floor as he leans into Dabi's hand on purpose. You wanna play push, fire fucker?]

You just answered your own damn question, shithead. [You touched me, so I touch you. That fucking simple. And Dabi's grinning like a troll, so he knows the answer already. (Right, because Bakugou's mom is full of manners.) The blonde bristles at the tease. Don't think he won't start squirting Dabi with the shampoo bottle!] GIMME YOUR FUCKING HEAD ALREADY!!

[skinstitch]

God damn you're so fucking loud. ( his own voice lifts in irritation: a cacophony of sound, smothered and echoed and built up around the shower tile; not even the sound of the water spray drowns either of them out, and honestly, he's sort of glad that bakugou is home alone. neither of them are capable of being quiet when their egos are both slamming together, trying to make push come to shove. ) Yeah? Yeah, that's being nice? That's manners?

( it doesn't matter to him. he's just riling him up, purposefully being difficult, purposefully making this the most painful shower that bakugou has ever had in his life; it's why he's grinning, why he's letting his own irritation build up in a challenge, and why, in the end, as bakugou pushes into his palm: he lets it go slack.

his arm dips, bent at the elbow, and with bakugou's weight pivoting forward into him, the sudden lack of pressure means that he'll likely lean forward, slightly off-balance. he knows the kid has great reflexes, so he won't have too much to work with, but it's enough that he can hook his arm down and around, pull it in around bakugou's naked waist and skid him in against his body with the misdirection. those shampoo-hands will probably stay safely out of the range of the shower spray, but even so, it traps bakugou in against him; he might fight the hold, or he might not.

that's part of the fun, too. is this really just about making him all soft and pretty, or is it about everything else? is this bakugou's idea of being a kind and giving bullshit hero, or is this about what he wants out of him? still grinning at him, twisted and waiting, he gets his other arm around his middle, locking him in his hold. )

Fine. Since no one taught you right, I'll just have to do it. ( his shoulders tilt, body bending, breath warm as he brings them almost nose to nose. ) You say, "Can I touch you?" and then I say "only if you mean it".

[blastedass]

Then keep your damn mouth shut and I won't have a reason to yell at you! [dabi's the one being a fucking brat about all of this! did he forget all that grabbing and jerking around a few seconds ago? obviously not. it's all on purpose and both of them know it. so he's getting yelled at, over the spray of the water, over the sound of their feet on the tile, over the threshold that would make taking a shower together a relaxing and likely enjoyable time for other people. then again, who's saying they're not enjoying it in their own twisted, stupid way?]

You know any shit about manners? [calling dabi out on that one. HA! if he thinks this is the worst shower the blonde's ever had, then he's got no fucking idea what kind of life the younger man's led. this is a fucking piece of cake compared to having to deal with those fucking toddlers during the remediation class! hell, if he could've just gotten a few showers with dabi as punishment for failing the provisional license exam, bring it on!

at least this guy he can touch and roughhouse with.

his foot slips slightly when that sudden give of bony arm and wiry muscle abruptly sends him stepping/falling into dabi's personal space. red eyes widen and his body instinctively goes for a rectification of the action. a leg steps forward, his hands move to the side to avoid the shower spray, knee bending to take the pressure without ramming it into dabi's hips. just in time for that scarred arm to wind around his waist, naked skin pressing to bare flesh, and wind about him in a drawing motion. his braced foot skids in the shower, water splashing against dabi's ankle, and the blonde ends up pressed flush to the villain's body, almost uncomfortably warm and unable to avoid the way his skin tells him where every single point of those staples are lined up along his own body.

if he was nicer, he'd admit that was a skilled maneuver.

instead, he glares right up into dabi's half-charred face as that other arm slides around his middle. locked in, though the defiant burn in the younger's red eyes suggests that's only because he's letting it. after all, he wanted to get in close to dabi to accomplish his own intentions. if it means he gets pulled right up to him in addition, is that really such a fucking bad add-on to the plan? maybe he should taunt him for being a softie who went down a damn convoluted path to avoid asking for a hug.]

I mean it. So I'm gonna touch you. [considering they are touching right now. chest and stomach, hips and thighs, sliding and brushing each other naked in the wetness of the shower as he moves his legs and slots one between dabi's own, the other coming to rest outside the villain's to trap one of his limbs between the blonde's as well.

but, he doesn't put his hands in his hair. yet. stays nose-to-nose, breath ghosting across dabi's mouth.] And you can even keep hugging me while I do it.

[skinstitch]

( there's a consideration there, in bakugou's gaze, and it's an expression that he recognizes: might even be one he swears he's seen in himself, or has seen in the stray cats that frequent the alleyways they skulk around in after dark. trying to gauge if he can get away with something, if he should make that decision, if he's going to keep pressing his luck--and succeeding--or if he should settle down for now and wait for an opportunity. on his end, he's happy to deal with whatever explosion, figurative or literal, happens between them; he waits, patient, mouth pulled into that god awful grin, but it doesn't happen. rather than rise back up again, bakugou backs down.

that's fine with him, too. he's picked plenty of fights already, and he does need his hair washed. for now, he consents to some modicum of calm.

there's the troubling distraction of their bodies pressed together, anyway, naked skin to naked skin; he's hot beneath his like always, burning up despite his wishes, and it makes a steamy heat between them, wet and warm, where bakugou's legs bracket one of his own, like that will somehow put them on even ground. one of his hands strays, slides down from bakugou's back to his hip and then, pointed, to his thigh, gripping down around it so that he can force bakugou's leg up, pulling and guiding. )

Hugging. ( there's a scoffing breath at the word, flush to bakugou's lips--nearly mumbles it in against them. ) We're not hugging. Get on with it.

( he's not quite as rough about it, this time. that hand on bakugou's thigh guides his leg up around his own hip, leaves it there so that he can push in with his weight and twist them, just slightly, to bump bakugou's back up against the shower wall. pinning him there, just out of reach of the spray--at least now bakugou can tend to soaping his hair up, if that's still what he wants.

for his part, he's pinching his teeth down against bakugou's lower lip, pulling at it smartly before he lets it go. )

[blastedass]

[oy, he didn't "back down", you flash-fried bastard. he decided he'd rather get on with the more enjoyable parts than stand here in some stupid face off that won't go anywhere and just waste water. responsible shit. besides, they both know he's going to get his hands in dabi's hair whether that means the guy's pinned to the wall, on the floor, or running a naked, wet dripping mess through the damn house. that and he's pretty damn sure another explosion would keep that smug ass grin cranked up to eleven. dabi needs a wash regardless and they're already more or less grinding against each other. he's not going anywhere. even if he did consider plenty of his options when dealing with the villain. ticked as he is, he acknowledges dabi's nature and threat. prefer not to deal with the latter here.

luckily for him, that decision's accepted and dabi eases off the pissy resistance. what a giant brat. then again, it's not like he hasn't picked fights with the villain aplenty when they're together.

dabi's hot, literally and figuratively. he feels it in the slide of his thigh against the insides of his own, the heat in his chest pressed to his pectorals, even the warmth radiating from the staples in his skin that brush his flesh. he's burning up inside like a fever. enough that bakugou sneaks a hand around behind them to twist the shower nozzle a bit towards the cooler temperature. that makes dabi feel better. especially as the man hooks his grip under his thigh and hikes the blonde's leg up around his hip. he wraps it over the curve of dabi's hip, tucking his heel behind his thigh.]

Figured you'd get pissy at that. [it's why he used the word in the first place. then works his hands into dabi's hair. tch, damaged from the continuous use of dye or spray or whatever he uses, and the smoke doesn't help. but it's surprisingly strong despite that, lacking any burnt hair smell (however the fuck he manages that) and the blonde doesn't bother with any delicate treatment. he's firm, skilled, thorough, working massages over dabi's scalp as well as cleaning his hair and getting the spikes all lathered up and soaped. could've just mauled him like the bastard did to his own hair, and it's fucking tempting, but in a way, scrubbing dabi clean is its own "fuck you" middle finger.

he doesn't even protest when dabi turns them around, pivoting on his remaining foot and working his heel then ball in a quick backwards motion to keep himself braced until his back hits the wall. there's a small growl when the guy decides to bite his lower lip instead of something else, and he brazenly extends his middle finger in dabi's hair as a "bastard" response to the smart drag before he's released. but the way his leg's hooked around the villain's hips is nice and he flexes to pull him in closer.] Asshole.

[then leans in to kiss him again.]

[skinstitch]

( he knows it's coming, knows that there's really no avoiding it: even so, there's a slight flinch when bakugou's fingers work through his hair, there and gone again, too quick to be commented on. he doesn't mind if he's rough, doesn't mind if he works his hair into so much of a lather that the dye bleeds or goes a little weak; he'll have to touch up his roots soon anyway, knowing how quickly his hair grows out. after changing it for so long, he's gained some kind of sense of when it's time to go over it again; even now, where bakugou's fingers rake and work through the blood and dirt and soot, there's a few little strands of white that struggle through, bright and off-putting. no, he can handle this sort of treatment: it's what he's used to, anyway. no one in the league is gentle about anything, and though it's not like any of them wash his hair, he's still used to their brisk way of living.

and maybe that's the problem. maybe bakugou's hands aren't working hard enough--he could misconstrue this as some measure of caring, and he hates that idea. when's the last time anyone touched him like this, in a way that's almost intimate? he can think of the last time he had sex, and think of the last time they fucked around, but he can't remember being like this with anyone else. nasty. he should have just kneed bakugou in the ass and pushed him out of the way, and done his hair himself. it's his own fault they're like this, and he knows it: which pisses him off more.

so what is it? there's some measure of bakugou being safe for this kind of contact, if only because he knows that the kid isn't particularly fond of him, and he can feed off the tension of their fighting, playful or otherwise. it isn't like he's going to admit to anything other than that. instead, he waits, feels the suds build up in his hair, and closes his eyes; bakugou's mouth is on his, a warm pressure, and he soaks up that contact instead, leans in and forces bakugou's head to crack with the shower wall, however hard that might be. one hand grips down at the back of his thigh, keeping his leg hooked up there, and the other is following the line of bakugou's arm to the hand that's in his hair.

it's a wet sound, where the kiss breaks--he got a little tongue in there, just for fun, and he can taste bakugou on his lips when he licks them. )

You tryin' to scrub me bald? ( the hand on his arm closes around bakugou's wrist, pulling roughly to dislodge at least one hand from his hair. might be the one that flipped him the bird amongst the strands. who knows. ) That's good enough, dumbass. Rinse me.

[blastedass]

[it's more that he doesn't want to get into another snark contest that keeps him from commenting on the flinch. dabi's a lone wolf, not someone who would ever be used to another person giving a shit enough to wash his hair. he knew the man's current hair color wasn't his true color; even with the smoke and leather scents crawling around him when dabi dragged him through that portal, he was still close enough to his damn head to catch the subtle cut of chemical hair product in the air. it only proved so when they tangled up together the first time. not that he's using some kind of "protect your dye" shampoo or anything. dabi could have raging pink hair for all he knew and he still wouldn't have an idea to his true identity. but it does go to show that the flaming villain is hiding it for a reason; someone out there would recognize it to a degree that his identity would be jeopardized...

whatever. it's more important right now to get the blood, dirt, and other grime out. how the fuck does dabi get blood in his hair? he burns people! doesn't go in swinging for fisticuffs! granted there's enough wiry muscle in those arms to knock a man down if he had to, but it doesn't seem the villain's style. as for the comparison between caring and being fucking efficient, dabi can go piss off. this is how you're supposed to take care of your hair, idiot! (says the guy who brushes his teeth with all the frothing violence of someone with a personal vendetta against every single germ in his mouth.) maybe he's not one to talk. or maybe he realizes that treating dabi with a given shit will piss the guy off just as much as him dragging the blonde around like a fucking bull had done earlier.

fuck you, bacon face. the kiss abruptly shoves back in dabi's favor and he grunts hard when his head slams against the shower wall. fucking lucky his skull's thick, bastard. it's tempting to bite his lip or tongue, or straight up headbutt him, but he does neither and pushes into the kiss harder, tightening his leg around dabi's hips as his hand drops the suds down to the nape of his neck. scrubbing and ensuring his hairline gets a good wash before going up to deliberately get behind his ears. the abrupt sweep of tongue into his mouth earns a mild sound in surprise, his own instinctively flicking up to taste dabi's and push at him until the kiss breaks with a wet noise.]

Hell no. Wouldn't wanna ruin a fucking disaster. [figures he'd tug his middle-finger-extended hand from his hair first. dabi can be so petty, and it rubs the blonde's ego in a similarly-petty way. still, he braces his remaining leg to the floor and bodily pushes forward, driving dabi back on his feet with a strong surge to get the other man under the water. not gonna rinse off by staying out of the stream. does make him hop forward, since he's apparently unwilling to take his leg out of dabi's hand and off his hip, but that's expertly managed as the water drags the suds down the villain's face and shoulders.] Bitch bitch bitch.

[but he gets rinsed off regardless. and just to alleviate some of the weird feelings, the young hero's rougher with the rinsing than the washing, scrubbing his free hand through dabi's hair with ruffles and flicks.]

[skinstitch]

( it's hard to tell whether it's better or worse, honestly. stepping back from the bakugou-sandwich he'd made is fine, and getting under the spray is fine, but the suds washing down between them annoy him, casting away in rivers of lukewarm gray; no matter how many times he does it, there's always a little bit of that color rinsing itself out, especially under hot water. he wouldn't mind it alone, and doesn't really mind it with bakugou, either, but he can tell that bakugou's not being particularly kind about scrubbing the suds out, and there's something about the whiplash of his own thoughts that's troublesome. it's easy enough to wipe himself clean of them like a doll with only one expression, even and lackluster, emotionless; but it's a shitty feeling to recognize actually feeling one and being forced to let it go.

it doesn't really matter. none of this really matters: that's sort of the whole point. the bitching stops, at least, as bakugou rinses him off, and once he feels like it's good enough, he gives a jerk of his chin up, shaking his head slightly to force bakugou's hand away from the wet strands. )

Good enough. ( that one leg is still wrapped around him, so he drops his other hand, gripping and groping for bakugou's knee to force his weight out from under him; either bakugou's going to wrap both legs up around his waist, or he's going to end up slipping and cracking his head open on the shower floor. honestly, either way works for him. ) Now we're done?

( obviously not: but he's either easily distracted or wants to be, and whatever's left can wait. skin to skin contact makes it easier to suppress his irritation, and that's one thing they've always been good at. if nothing else, all their bitching tends to wind down into efficient silence when it comes to fooling around, and bakugou hasn't disappointed him yet. the kid's a little too good looking, and it's troublesome. )

We got better things to be doing than playing hair stylist.

[blastedass]

[he was waiting for that, when dabi would have enough of the treatment and shake himself free. fine. the guy's picky enough that cutting off too early could have him bitching about leaving soap in his hair, or doing it too long making for a gripe about being too clingy or some shit. so leaving it to dabi to decide is the easiest route. saves them both from getting into another argument, which of course he'd be more than ready for.

watching the tinge of dye running off with the suds is strange, even if it's expected. he makes sure to keep the water running and splattering around the tiles so as to prevent the dye from risking any stains while it leaks all around the bottom of the shower. there's still the notion of dabi's staples that he'd like to treat before really getting into something heavy, but at the same time, if they're going to get into something heavy and end up making a fucking mess, he should save the treatment for later. probably when dabi's more agreeable in the afterglow or post-fuck shower.

why does he care? fuck you, he doesn't give a shit. let this guy cook. ...tch. he shouldn't care. but despite the anger towards dabi and the other's crimes, the blonde's still a hero. if he could save him, he would. but he's smart enough to know this bastard doesn't want to be saved. and he's not someone to waste his time on a pointless endeavor. all the while knowing he'd catch dabi's unconscious ass to prevent him from busting his head open or something.]

Tch, no point in doing more if we're just gonna make a fucking me- Oy! [his grousing response breaks in a yelp when dabi grabs at his other knee. one hand slaps against the nearest wall, the other quickly grabs onto the villain's less-scarred shoulder as his leg's hoisted up and he wraps it around dabi's waist, instinctively knotting his ankles behind the man's thighs. fuck you! he's not cracking his skull on the floor. you'd be so damn lucky. good to know those wire-taut muscles aren't just for show. it feels strange being all wrapped around dabi like this. but not something they haven't done before. maybe that's why it's weird; first time he's been in this position with dabi while soaking wet.

but being pressed against him brings that rush of pleasure again. smooth skin, scarred skin, stapled limit lines, hard bone, narrow hips, definition, things that have branded themselves on his body as "dabi" and dabi alone. damn this guy for being handsome in his own stupid way.] You gonna pin me to the wall and fuck me or stagger off to the damn bedroom?

[he snarks before kicking a leg out, catching the shower's control knob with his foot, and shutting it off, before curling his leg back around dabi's hips. there. put an end to that distraction. now they're dripping wet in the quiet shower.]

[skinstitch]

( they're both fair options, both with their own annoyances, both with their own issues. the shower would be fine for it: a good option, even, though slick skin and slick feet could lead to either of them causing an accident, one that would need a little more help than a few gauze pads and a needle and thread. plus, now the dumbass has gone and turned the shower off, leaving him with less of a desire to stay and feel cold water drying through his hair. he might not feel it on his skin, really, but the rest would be annoying. no matter how hot they make it, he'd have to turn the water back on--at least for the sake of the one of them that isn't burning up on the inside.

but the bedroom? it's not like they haven't fucked in there before, bakugou on his back with his mouth smashed beneath one of dabi's palms, keeping him quiet; those experiences have been fast and quick and searing, though, the kind that haven't paid attention to details like the little personal trinkets, still left in bakugou's room, dumb shit he doesn't want to see like an old all might figurine or one of his old school bags. it's all shit that reminds him of how much of his life has been torched away from him; he barely even went to school, and god knows what he thinks of heroes.

so that leaves secret option number three.

with his hands hooked under bakugou's legs, keeping him steady, he draws them back from the shower wall. he can handle this in small doses, but he's not built for great shows of brute strength; then again, bakugou isn't incredibly heavy, though most of his weight is thanks to his impressive muscles. so it's not too hard to stagger out of the shower with him in tow, bodies smashed together, wet skin to wet skin; the grin on his face, though, means it's not going to stay that easy, and rather than carry bakugou out of the bathroom entirely, he lets one of his knees buckle as soon as they're on the bathroom rug.

bakugou goes down first, obviously. he lets him go about an inch off the floor, arms winding back, lets bakugou's spine hit the tile before he's crawling in over him like a monster out of the lake; there's still room between bakugou's thighs, after all. )

Now's your chance, tell me what you want. ( hey, at least he's giving him a choice--he plants his palms down at either side of bakugou's ribs, dipping down so that he can bite at his shoulder, one sharp pull of skin. ) Tick tock. Thirty seconds.

[blastedass]

[someone doesn't trust his reflexes if dabi thinks the blonde couldn't catch them should someone slip and fall. might mean an explosion or two and some acrobatics, but he could (probably) avoid either of them breaking bones. provided it wasn't like mid-fucking-orgasm or some shit. the only reason he even offered the shower as a choice was dabi's impatience and giving them the freedom to turn on the water whenever they wanted. which was going to turn lukewarm before they got even halfway through at this rate. not something he wants to feel while fucking, and certainly not an expense his parents would go "what the fuck" about on their water bill...

his room has seen their naked (and not so naked) activities before, white teeth sunk into a gagging hand to keep him shut up as the bed rocked in incriminating rhythm beneath their bodies. glaring up at dabi as the villain pinned him down, daring the man to try looking away from him. you're fucking him, you fried bastard, not looking around his room! luckily that never was much a problem, even though he's found himself turning over in bed a few times on random nights and catching a phantom scent or expectation of dabi lingering in the space of his bedroom. shit, what a ghost to have in your childhood bed. a fucking mass murderer.

wait- who the fuck gave an option three?!

he jolts slightly when dabi pulls away from the wall, clinging tighter to the man's neck with one arm and knotting his legs harder around his narrow waist. while he doesn't trust dabi's strength in great amounts, he's not blind to the wiry muscle the man's built up on the streets either. at least he doesn't make himself a burdensome weight, keeping his body close to dabi's with his limbs tucked to help him balance. one arm's looser, ready to fling out and catch anything that would prevent them from falling if something happens. not that it's that easy to focus with their bodies rubbing together like this with every damn step. shit, should've just walked; this is fucking weird.

it doesn't even last long. a few steps out of the shower and the world rushes past his head as they go down. red eyes widen, a brief "hey-!" barking out of his lips, before his back hits the rug and he grunts at the impact. arms and legs momentarily shaken loose from dabi's body until the man looms over him like some dripping shadow pushing between his thighs and sliding atop him. it's both creepy and arousing at the same time.]

Bastard. Just shove your dick in and fuck m- OW! [just like this. he braces one foot on the rug beside dabi's calf, knee tented beside his hips, the other leg staying hooked around the back of the man's thighs to keep him close. thirty seconds is a shit time and he's not patient enough to wait for dabi to finger him or to engage in some challenging 69. bastard's biting him too! he keeps his arm around the man's neck, free hand sliding down his arm to grab at a wrist as the blonde leans up and clamps his teeth on dabi's collar, their spiky hair (annoyingly similar) stabbing into each other's in the process.] You're already this fucking hard.

[skinstitch]

You're an idiot. ( --comes out of hissing teeth, tongue pressed to the back of them as bakugou's mouth closes in over his collar, pulling at damaged skin. he doesn't feel much; there's just that strange, gut-lurching feeling of the shape of him sliding up a little, as though every place where he's attached just shifts and shrugs with the movement. bakugou could find a perfect spot near there, pull hard enough, and tear it apart; maybe he's already thinking about the counter of medicine he sent flying to the floor. ) I'm already this fucking hard, so you're gonna rip and tear if I fuck you.

( honestly, the brat would deserve it at this point. someone should teach him that patience is a virtue, or whatever: ironically it's something he's learned well over the years. as much as he wants to watch endeavor squirm, wants the payoff of seeing the shattered look on his face when he knows his world is beyond repair, there's no sense in rushing right towards the special ending. these things take time, and it takes build up to get to the climax of the story. it's frustrating, having to bide his time, and at one point, he'd even considered just ditching the whole thing, finding his little brother and slitting his throat in his sleep. but that would come with the complications of getting into UA, among other things, so--

patience. maybe this is something he can impart onto bakugou, like the shitty older brother he is.

there's a chuckle, a grin that's smothered against bakugou's shoulder, and he skims his teeth over the same spot again, just for the torture of it; rather than relent, his head moves down, teeth and tongue marring the skin of bakugou's chest, pinching over a nipple, roaming down over his ribs. his hands stay, a vice at bakugou's narrow waist, pinning him to the floor as he slowly extends himself down, stretched a little more lazily between his thighs. )

Get the lube. Above your head. ( should be easy enough for the dumbass to reach, unless he's distracted. right, distracted: his tongue dips down along the ridge of bakugou's pelvis, biting and craning his jaw down past his dick, skimming just lightly over the shape of his balls--and going lower. ) Thirty seconds.

( yeah, he's just gonna keep using that to piss bakugou off. )

[blastedass]

YOU'RE FUCKING IMPATIENT TOO!! [maybe he bites him harder for that frustration as well. he growls against dabi's skin, glaring over his shoulder at the ceiling above him. it'd only taken one round with him the first time to realize the damage to dabi's nerves, especially on the burned parts of his skin. even if it's hard to feel much of anything, he has no desire to tear the man's skin from its moorings. this bastard already refused even a basic look over, so the next best thing is not giving him a reason to need one. not that it won't get pushed again in the future...] You've shoved it in without lube or prep before, dumbass.

[mostly growling retort to avoid admitting dabi's probably right. this man's so damn flexible with his feelings. impatient to get in and out at one moment, then bitching at the blonde for being overeager the next. it isn't in his nature to be patient either, though he's by no means an idiot. to others, it may look like he's rushing in without thought, but they don't realize he's already thought ahead, analyzed the situation, and made for the most effective answer. dabi's someone that he can't look at and predict 100%; the man is patient and calculating, yet simultaneously impatient and reckless. the only thing he can count on dabi doing every time is whatever's in dabi's best interest. you can always count on a selfish, callous bastard to only care about his selfish, callous self.

even if that means getting better pleasure out of telling his impatient partner to wait and not get his ass torn open. and fuck you. the only virtue he's gonna learn from dabi is how to defeat him in battle without killing him. hmph.

he glares to the side at that grin curving on his shoulder, fingers curling against dabi's back as teeth skim across the bite sunk into his skin. until the man decides to descend, scraping his teeth across his flesh. a sharp curse bursts from his lips as he drops his head back against the bathroom rug, cringing in pain and pleasure as his teeth bare in a snarl of sensation as dabi bites at his nipple. bastard's leaving his marks already. his breath swells in his chest, pushing at his ribs, tapered waist and strong pelvis lifting up as much as possible in those hot hands caging around his hips until dabi shoves him back down on the floor to keep him pinned there. fuck... he spreads his legs a little when he feels that wire-taut body extending lower, stretching out between his thighs like a lazy panther.]

Don't order me around. [it's a heated growl as he tilts his head back and searches the world upside down, throwing one hand up towards the spilled items from earlier. how damn lucky there's a bottle of lube in re-] Ffhuck- [he drops his hand onto the ground, fingers digging at the tile thanks to a wet tongue sliding alone the cut of his pelvic v. dammit, dabi, he's trying to do something here! one knee twitches and tents upward around the villain's ribs when he glides his tongue past his balls, earning another hitch in his breath.] Bastard, don't give me a time limit after bitching about prep!

[dabi's doing that on purpose to piss him off. it'd serve him right if the blonde beaned the lube bottle off his stupid face. he doesn't. just grabs it with a vengeance and tugs it over before passing the bottle down to the villain. not gonna lie, it's kind of a turn on to do it right on the bathroom floor...]