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Date: 11/5/23 23:13 (UTC)he wants to tell himself that he says it just to fuel bakugou's impatience, to make it harder for him to handle things, harder for him to find control in things; but maybe there's something more to it, too. maybe it's just something he's not going to acknowledge, now.
the distraction works the way he intends it to, and every lap of his tongue along the thin skin of bakugou's sac makes the boy's thighs flinch, his legs tenting as though they might snake up around his ribs and knee him in the bone. he doesn't mind it--blindly, one hand gropes up bakugou's side to find the bottle, fingertips grazing bakugou's hand as he takes it from him without complaint. then it's just a matter of dropping it down into the space between bakugou's thighs and leaving his hands free to continue pinning him to the cold bathroom floor. he's not going to need it just yet, but it's better to have it ready; he imagines it would get harder for bakugou to find it the more blinded he gets by arousal.
squeezing, he holds him down, settles himself between bakugou's thighs fully, laying flat on his stomach; it feels good, somehow, stretched out on the floor without worry of the edge of a mattress coming up too close, or sheets sticking to his skin, getting caught up in the staples. his hands slide, groping down over the strong hilt of bakugou's hips and legs, pressing down between them until he can bend his elbows and palm his hands along the curve of either thigh, pushing to force bakugou's legs up in the air. )
You're right. ( the words come in a playful sneer, his head buried down beneath bakugou's balls. ) We should take our time, huh?
( his chin dips, hands sliding down until they come to the curve of bakugou's cheeks--and his tongue traces a warm, neat little line down, lapping lightly at the hint of the opening there, teasing it with the tip of his tongue; his fingers grip, forcing him to spread further apart, circling lightly over the skin there like he's waiting for complaint or desperation. )
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Date: 11/7/23 03:04 (UTC)but despite the one or two positive traits, dabi is no one he admires. only wishes whatever had happened to set him on this path hadn't. it sucks. too bad. doesn't change the fact it's fucking explosive when they get together, whether the man's making everything burn hard and fast or being a dick and taking his time. like now. both have their charm and pleasures. probably a good thing they don't get blood on the damn rug. he doesn't want to deal with cleaning it more than he's already going to.
ha! like he thinks he can control dabi anymore than dabi can control him. they wrestle with each other, taunting and demanding, tempting and challenging, see who's going to fold to the bigger bastard all the time. it's fucking annoying, but he continues to talk and engage with this guy. maybe he likes it more than he lets on.]
Shit... haa... [he drops his head to the side, eyes falling shut as dabi works his tongue over his sac. it's tempting to knee the bastard in the ribs, but he doesn't, instead closing one leg in on dabi's side. thigh sliding against his ribs, ankle tucking along the curve of his pelvis. their fingers briefly touch and that tongue slides up his balls again, earning a sharp snarl from the blonde before he hikes his opposite leg and throws it over dabi's back as those hands pin his hips to the damn floor. half out of reaction, half because he wants the physical contact. he rakes his tongue against his upper row of teeth, alleviating some of that tickling, pleasurable sensation as dabi's tongue runs up the seam of his sac and drops a ball off to the side. fuck, he's teasing that area on purpose now!
he tries bucking upward, but grunts as the effort fails, muscles flexing in his thighs and legs tightening around dabi's ribs. hands run along his body again, tracing his hips and legs, earning a quick gasp as the blonde's abs crunch hard over his stomach. one hand finds dabi's head, burrowing into his dark-faded hair and sliding through it in wanton, random directions. he's just about to drag his heel over the curve of dabi's ass before warm hands cup under the lines of his thigh and-] The fuc-?!
[-heave his legs into the air. both hands quickly smack down on the rub, finger digging in to counter balance having his limbs tossed up, one kicked towards the ceiling, the other hanging off to the side. god dammit, he feels so exposed like this! a hot flush runs across his face as he glares fire between his thighs at dabi.] You didn't have t-oh hell-
[it's not just the skim of those soft black spikes against the inside of his thighs, or the way dabi's nose runs past his balls and his breath ghosts hot between his spread cheeks, but that fucking tongue glazing a line down his perineum to the instinctively-clenching ring right there. his head hits the floor, toes curling in the air and one ankle popping from rolling it. he's used to rough, intense, forceful, not this playful teasing that drives him nuts because it feels good and pisses him off at the same time!] The fuckareyou... ugh- nhh... waiting for?
[dabi squeezes his cheeks and spreads him open further, making his dick jump against his stomach and his thighs flex on either side of his head. likely going to get desperate complaining sooner or later.]
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Date: 11/10/23 05:40 (UTC)so that's why he's doing it like this. that's why he's teasing bakugou's puckered hole with the tip of his tongue, flicking against it idly, slowly, like he's trying to coax him to relax; it doesn't matter to him either way, but it'll be way more enjoyable on bakugou's end if he stops tensing and clenching and curling up and away. one palm braces, holding bakugou's leg up in the air--the other reaches down between them, blind to fumble with the cap of the lube, struggling to work it open. it comes with a soft pop, a slight squeeze and puddle of the stuff between them, but he doesn't care. it might get smeared on him when he shifts his weight down, his tongue still diligently lapping and pressing and sneaking past that tight ring of muscle--his fingers end up coated, and rather than push them up between bakugou's legs, he works them down.
is bakugou going to come like this? oh, he's considering it, considering just tongue-fucking him and letting him spurt hot cum all over his own stomach, maybe even feel a little ashamed about it, either pushed too fast or pushed in a way he doesn't like; he isn't trying to go so far as to step over their boundaries, not exactly, not in a way that might get him into trouble, but: he likes being unexpected, and more than that, he likes being lazy. it feels good to stretch all out on his stomach and feel bakugou trembling because of him, because of a few simple, insistent maneuvers with his tongue. might just add this to the list of things they do on the regular, then.
his weight shifts again, more onto his side, just enough so he can take his own dick in hand and start slicking it with lube; his head tilts, a full jerk of his tongue inside of bakugou, as far as the boy's tension will allow him. a few more jilted, persistent pushes, licking and prodding and shifting; and then he's lifting his head up, slightly, pillowing it against bakugou's taut thigh. his eyes linger there, watching bakugou up along the shape of his naked body like a cat that's glowing in the shadows. )
I'm waiting for you to beg. ( his eyes squint a little, in a shape that shows he's grinning, unabashed, from where the rest of his face is pressed in near bakugou's pelvis. ) Not gonna start 'til I hear it.
( gives him a chance to keep slicking up his own cock, anyway. win win. )
no subject
Date: 11/12/23 18:59 (UTC)which sometimes confuses him when dabi's gentle. teasing him like now, with this tongue wandering around the rim of his hole in lazy circles, flicking at it each time the puckered ring clenches inward, then slowly lapping at his entrance until he relaxes again and the clenched muscle softens enough that dabi can reach just a little bit into the sensitive nerve-laden hole. his thigh flexes under the villain's hand plastered to his leg, toes curling in the air when he hears dabi mess with the cap of lube until it pops open. can't be bothered with it because the man takes that moment to finally wriggle his tongue past his resistance and into his ass and the blonde drives his head back into the rug with a help of surprise. why the hell does dabi's tongue earn this reaction when he's taken the villain's dick before?! so fucking flexible and wet, hot and wriggling inside him like a living thing.
he says he hates the feeling, grimaces at the sensation, but every fucking time dabi does it, the response is ready. dick hardening and twitching against the hero's chiseled abs, oozing precum each time his ass contracts around the villain's tongue as it thrusts inside. he knows dabi could get him off just like this, working his tongue into him, dicking around with his legs, one hand on his cock, and the dabi knows it too. no real effort to thrust with his hips or mind his arms, just laid out on the floor like a lanky panther lapping away at a piece of meat he enjoys. another shudder ripples down his body, muscles tensing and flexing under his skin as his balls drag up against his perineum in full view of those aqua eyes. goddamn bastard's enjoying this way too much.
his breath hitches in his throat, a soft cuss spilling from his lips as he drops his head to the side, ears starting to burn pink along with his face as he hears dabi's hand wrap around his own dick and stroke it. slick and wet, tracing up and down. he doesn't even have to see it with his eyes to know exactly how it looks, foreskin dragging around his head when he pulls his hand up and then drawing taut when his fist slides to the base, balls swaying in soft bounces with his pumping motions.] Ngh- ... ugphuck-! [the curse punches out in the middle of a grunt as dabi spears his ass with his tongue again, doing fucking wonders with each lick and prod. it's gotten the boy to loosen up, only clenching down around his tongue when dabi reaches a sensitive area or the young hero wants to squeeze on his muscle for added sensation. before the man finally pulls out and he growls in relief and annoyance, an ankle popping overhead again as he rolls one foot in the air to keep his blood flowing.
not because dabi's hair tickles the back of his thigh when he leans his head against it. fuck no, certainly not that. cheek resting on his skin, staples and scars and smooth contrasting tangibly along with his breath. he shivers under that burning gaze and turns his head again, one red eye cracking open to glare down at dabi between his hiked thighs. naked, splayed out, fucking attractive. his words ghost right along his damn balls too. sadist.] Shut up and shove your tongue back in until I break.
[mostly because he's close enough if dabi thrusts anything else inside him, he's going to come way too quickly and this bastard'll taunt him for it for the rest of the night.]
no subject
Date: 11/25/23 06:54 (UTC)idle, he lets his gaze tilt down, raking over the shape of bakugou's sharp pelvis, down to the gap between his thighs as they're spread wide open for him, the clench of his ass against the bathroom rug; he could be nice, sure, and do as he's told, but when has he ever done something like that?
bakugou doesn't beg, and he doesn't get what he's asking for, either. the temptation to stay there, lazily draped around him like a carnivore idly enjoying its meal, is there, but there's more pleasure to be found if he hauls himself up, pushing palms to either side of bakugou's hips, driving himself up onto his own knees. there, like the shadow of expectancy, he looms over bakugou's naked body, pushing his thighs in against bakugou's thighs, bending him in, spreading him further apart. )
You're gonna break either way. ( --seems to be the explanation, a slight crooked smile like his seams might start throbbing with the urge to bleed there, at the hollowed skin beneath his eyes; excitement always does it to him, drives him to that edge where he wants to cry, and if he wants to cry, it won't come out the way it's supposed to, anymore. ) Don't hold back, 'kay?
( soft and sweet, a mocking sort of croon--will bakugou even be able to hold back, like this? with his own weight centered onto one palm, now, his other snakes in between his own legs and bakugou's legs, reaching for the hard length of his own cock, slicked and wet and sticky; purposefully clumsy, he runs the head of it down against bakugou's balls, bumping, pressing, nudging in carefully down further, slipped tight between his cheeks against his hole with a sharp intake of breath, his head dipping between his shoulders. as much as he wants to tease bakugou for his impatience, for his short fuse, for all of it: he's the same way, excitable, determined, desperate for the shred of pleasure there, the feeling of being pressed up tight inside of him.
with his fingers pressing in, he pushes, guides his hips forward, palming his hand against bakugou's thigh, his hip, up against his side as he shifts himself inside, a little careful; it isn't the most time he's spent on prep, but it also isn't the least, so at least bakugou's getting some minor thread of care from him, no matter how frayed. )
no subject
Date: 11/27/23 18:41 (UTC)and he likes it. he feels his eyes wandering his skin, taking in the sight of his hips trying not to tremble, raking the back of his thighs as they fall open on either side of his dick, ass tightening as his glutes harden under the burden of pleasure and keeping his legs in the air. of course he doesn't expect dabi to do what he told him to. he's not even doing what dabi told him to! which somehow makes them work well together. attractive bastard.
no tongue. he hears and feels motion instead and jerks his head up to stare down the length of his body, red eyes locking onto the scarred villain hauling himself up onto his knees between the teen's v-straddled limbs. hands press to the rug beside his hips and dabi leans over him in all his naked, ominous presence, slotting the tops of his thighs against the backs of the blonde's as he bodies the younger's legs apart. fuck, he's forced to relocate them, sliding his legs to either side of dabi's shoulders and ribs and hips, not sure where he wants them to latch onto from those three options, but not exactly against the idea of just running them all over the tract so long as it means dabi's between them.]
I'll break you soon enough. [comes the growling promise in retort as he bends his legs at the knees, just enough to keep his feet hovered behind dabi's body in a threat to lock him in there if he dares back out. his eyes flick to the stapled seams of that garish mouth, not out of disgust or aversion, but out of monitoring his health for a split second. he doesn't want dabi to bleed all over him because that'll make him take care of the bastard. even if it means sitting on his stupid chest. the second's over and his red gaze jerks back to dabi's eyes, locking with them at the questioning challenge.] Don't give me a reason to.
[he's tried his damnest to hold back plenty of times, teeth grit and eyes blazing despite the tears beading at the corners as his chest and throat flex to hold in his noises. but he can't name a single time he's managed to keep it in the entire duration. not when dabi's fist is gripping his dick and working it between his exposed buttocks, pushing the slick bullet-shaped head against his balls and making a mess as he drags it down the shifting orbs' smooth sac. there's a breathless cuss at the deliberate tease, one hand pulling from the rug and instead grabbing at dabi's thigh to hold on when the man slides further down the swollen tract of his perineum, leaving precum all over his hot skin until finally reaching the tight, saliva-lubed crater of the boy's puckered rim. dabi's gasp mixes with the blonde's husk as he stares up at him with intense, demanding want. neither of them are immune to this.]
Haa... fuck, Dabi... [that's it. the pressure of his head against his hole increases, his muscle parts around the oozing tip, drags backwards along his glans until it crests the gentle flare of his crown and suddenly 'pop' goes inside with a jolt that has the blonde's shoulders hiking and his air-thrown legs kicking around the dabi's back and shoulder.] Fuck! [it's in! dabi's hand's gripping at his thigh and hip, feeling the flex of muscle and jump of his body when they finally connect again. it's careful, sure, but prep wasn't thorough and dabi's not a fucking wuss. the raw sensation of his ass opening around dabi's naked dick and closing greedily behind his head, inner muscles fluttering and dragging at his dripping glans in begging plea that won't reach the explosive teen's mouth, is insane. that tiny shred of care only makes things even harder to resist and he grips dabi's thigh hard in reaction.
too big, too much, too good, right there, don't stop, feels great, just right, keep going, fucking do it.] More... [now that's a beg.]
no subject
Date: 12/3/23 21:25 (UTC)it feels fucking good to push himself inside of bakugou, to feel his muscles close around his head, close around every inch of him, as he guides himself forward. he should have lubed up more, should have taken the time to fuck bakugou on his fingers, too, finish up the whole of the teasing, but bakugou had been embarrassingly close to orgasm, and also, fuck this kid. he can take what he gets and he can like it. he's gone in without nearly anything before, bringing bakugou near to tears with the sensation--though he's stopped doing that as of late, as though, grimly, he's starting to also feel some sort of... no, it's not about that. it's about the fact that it feels better when he doesn't have a sniffling, angry little shithead between his legs, clenching his teeth. it's better when they're both a little more prepared.
even so, as he guides his hips forward, the immediate urge to draw back and slam in hits him; the hand between his legs is unnecessary, now that bakugou's taking him in, and so he balances his weight on hard palms that lock in at either side of bakugou's ribs. he might be trying to keep him close with those legs like a vice around him, but bakugou himself won't be moving past his hands, either. they're both so determined to keep the other close that it's almost sickening. )
Yeah? ( okay, that's closer to begging. he approves. ) Come on, say it again.
( --doesn't mean he'll accept just one, though. his voice comes out like gravel, thick in his throat, and his chin dips a little, like he doesn't want to look bakugou right in the face as he keeps easing his way inside. 'more' is fine, he'll get more: he'll get the whole length of him, pressed inside, where their hips meet skin to skin; bakugou's hand on his thigh clenches in, pulling at the skin, and the hint of pain there, just at the edge of his senses, is just as enjoyable. make him feel it. he wants to feel it.
nothing can really rival the heat that he feels burning inside of him, but this is a pleasant kind. the tense heat of bakugou's muscles wrap around him, tight and tense, and a breath escapes, a hiss of pleasure, feeling it tingle up from the head of his cock and down the length of it, settling into a ball of expectation in his stomach. impatience makes his hands dig down into the bathroom rug; his chin lifts, licking his lips as though the lack of sensation there might even help strengthen the actual feeling between his legs. it's addictive, delicious, and he hasn't even started moving yet.
still waiting for more begging, so: )
Come on. I'm--waiting.
no subject
Date: 12/4/23 23:14 (UTC)and it feels amazing as dabi pushes inside him, the mercifully-un-burnt head of his dick spreading his body open around its smooth bullet, soft ridge of his crown popping past his hole, and the hot pillar of his shaft pushing further inside his ass the more dabi works himself forward. yeah, they could've used more lube, could've prepped with more fingers, but the way he's clenching around the villain with a stubborn grip drags the blonde's hole along his shaft in raw, detailed demand. tight enough to almost threaten dabi to stop out of sheer force, making his skin slide and his penetration a little jerky as he slips from one clench to the next. it's a little better than when dabi fucks him completely raw, no prep beyond just a quick spit, leaving the kid seething through grit teeth and fighting the heat on his lower eyelids. WHO THE FUCK SNIFFLES, YOU PIECE OF SHIT?! HE'D NEVER!! but it'd be a lie to say he doesn't like it best when they take enough time to make it feel like he's going to blow his load the second dabi gets his dick in him.
he claps one hand to dab's clear shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh and kneading at the muscle there. the other stays seized atop the villain's thigh, clinging in response to his dick filling his ass like that, fingers twitching with each inch. caged in by dabi's arms flanking his ribs, he returns the possessive favor by knotting his ankles together above the man's tailbone, thighs squeezing around lean ribs to keep dabi from going anywhere but here. fuck, somehow getting railed on the damn bathroom floor like this makes the incredulous aspect of their very union that much more brazen.]
Ngh... bastard- [he realizes what he said, what he sounded like, a second too late, face flaring pin in anger and embarrassment (and pure arousal) when dabi encourages him to say it again. his voice thickens with the snarl, wet with hormones, and a choked grunt sees his head crane back against the rug, ashen spikes scraping on the threads as dabi sinks his dick further inside. his fingers slip, heel of his palm skidding down towards the man's knee, blunt nails raking against his skin before stopping just above the stapled line. he left lines.] F-fhuck-
[why does he feel so good? it's not just his cock spreading him open and penetrating all the way inside. it's the throb of his heart, pounding in the veins on his shaft, beating inside his ass, his body. he can feel dabi even more than just wrapping his arms and legs around him, more than kissing him and grinding his chest and hips to his body.] Right...! [Almost... fuck, almost-] -c'mon... mor-... che- all of it! [and the gentle slap of dabi's balls against his cheeks answers that angry demand/plea. his tunnel seizes up around his dick, flexing greedily up and down the length of it, earning the hero a hiss of pleasure from the villain that he loves hearing. damn, he wants it every time, tucking his chin down again to open his eyes and stare wanton hot up into dabi's face. panting softly, teeth bared in an open-mouth lust-glazed snarl.] Move... haa, haa.. move, Dabi...
[he unknowts his ankles, strong legs slide down, bending at the knees, and instead hooks his heel around the back of dabi's thigh, other foot stepping on the man's calf, giving him a mixture of anchor and chain around his partner's legs and lower body.] C'mon... fuck me... [and uses his legs to pull, dragging dabi towards him a bit.] Or I'll ride you myself... you hot prick...
no subject
Date: 12/10/23 22:17 (UTC)and maybe a part of him almost envies that, in some sick way, some angry way, that bakugou grew up to be someone who could be so goddamn confident and well-trained and talented: did he do it all himself? or was it because he had those nice little parents there to support him and help him? what could he have been, if his parents had--
that's not the point, here. the point is to get lost in this feeling: this feeling that he drags out of him, this feeling of bakugou's body clamped around him, skin to skin, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, and to pull and stretch and drag out every piece of pleasure he can from it. that pleasure can't erase anything, but like a drug, it smooths things out, even for a little bit; it gives him something else to focus on, something not quite as destructive as murder or even talent acquisition, something that he sucks at the most, out of everyone, mostly because half the time he doesn't care enough to even go out looking. move, move like he doesn't already fucking want to, like he isn't already driven to the edge of his meager patience by the way that bakugou goes tight around him. his teeth clench, sucking in air through the spaces between them, letting it out in something that sounds like a wheezing sort of laugh. )
Yeah? Gonna ride me from all the way down there?
( all of bakugou's limbs are wrapped around him the way a vine wraps around a building; he doubts that he's going to suddenly push himself up and take charge, and he doesn't mind that at all. he got what he wanted--sort of, he'll give it a passing grade for effort--and so bakugou gets to get what he wants, too. rather than leave his weight up on his palms, he shifts it down to his forearms, hooked on the bathroom rug; the connection between them is almost too close for him to fully enjoy it, the possessive way they're wrapped around each other edging a little too close to those feelings he doesn't have at all.
so he goes on without them. his hips press in, just to bury himself further inside to make a point; his chin dips, head angled to tuck in near bakugou's ear for a short, hot breath of amusement before he draws back again, muscles sliding in relieved tension around the length of his dick as he drags himself out of the heated tunnel of bakugou's insides just to stay there, head of his cock trapped within that tight ring, rubbing up against it. the sensitive sensation is just a little dulled, but even if it started to hurt, he wouldn't care: he can't even remember what hurt feels like, something new and exciting, and rather than linger there too long, he jerks his hips back in again, sinking inside of him until they're skin to skin again with a stiff groan. )
Don't--come yet. ( through his gritted teeth again, bemused, as he pulls back again, dives in again, rolls his hips into bakugou's ass and slips back again only to do it all over again; it's driving him a little mad to be so measured about it, but he's not going to stay so staccato for long. ) I mean it, fuck. Gotta give me at least...a few minutes, come on.
no subject
Date: 12/13/23 20:31 (UTC)he wouldn't be surprised at all if there's a part of dabi that envies him. most villains have some petty streak of jealousy or anger towards another hero they don't want to admit. someone who has more than them, is better than them, got nicer treatment. he has no intention of explaining his life to dabi anymore than dabi has the patience to listen to the blonde tell him off for being a stubborn dick who could've made his own life so much better if he'd just been a little less stubborn! there's so much talent in there, so much potential, and it's squandered on a fucking grudge. if only...
there's no room for pity right now. no, the point of this is to get lost in each other and the raw sensations they can drag across their skin and plunge inside to the point where nothing else matters. his teeth set, a seething breath escapes as dabi pulls backwards and drags his shaft out of him. no way to avoid the stubborn grip of his ass as he clenches down around the man and instinctively tries to keep him inside where it feels the best. their skin pressing together, his ass cupped in dabi's hips, thighs rubbing in an incriminating entanglement, bared enough it's obvious what they're up to. there's no classes here, no heroes or villains, no murder plans or heroic missions. just carnal escape where he doesn't have to be perfect and dabi doesn't have to be flawed. not if they don't want to. instead, move. move and make it feel good so they can go away where it's hot and wet and crass and there's a goddam dick in his ass that's pulsing so hard he can feel dabi's heartbeat in two different areas. a hissing laugh tickles at his ear and it's answered with a thick grunt of demand and the catch of the blonde's surprised breath.]
Like a fucking bronco. [he doesn't have to roll them over and straddle atop dabi to take control. those strong legs wrapped around the villain's narrow hips are just as capable of hooking about the back of his thighs and stomping atop his ass to push and pull his hips into a rhythmic pace that's to the boy's liking. but dabi's not refusing to move and that means he's no earning himself a coup. instead, the man swoops down atop him, he's unable to tell if it's a collapse unwilling or a deliberate swallow. but forearms flank his shoulders, his legs get hiked up further along dabi's side, his hips and ass sheathed even more securely in the sandwich between staple bisected thighs and abs. it's amazingly possessive in an almost suffocating, dangerous way, and before he's even thought about it, one hand is buried in dabi's hair, the other splayed across his back as the boy knots his ankles above his hip again to keep him close.]
Ah-! Ngh! Haa! Fuck! AGH! [they don't need those kinds of feelings, right? hips shove forward, sheathing his dick back inside him all the way, and his legs bounce up against the man's ribs before falling down to his hips once more. a mouth nuzzles right against his ear, dragging a shudder through his skin at dabi's breath. he groans in response to his length sliding out of him once more, ripples of inner muscles dragging at his foreskin and shaft, until it's just the blunt tip of his cock resting inside his ring. pulsing and throbbing, pre cum tangibly oozing inside his hole.] Don't just... stay there- [he's trying to drive him insane like this! make him beg for him! bastard! abs clench and he deliberately tightens his ass as hard as he can around dabi's head, wanting to squeeze him so tightly it hurts. or feels so good it crumbles him.] Mov-AH FUCK!!
[he's clinging to dabi's head, yelling into his un-burned shoulder as the man thrusts back inside him, breath hiking around another cuss word when hips meet hips and dabi's balls slap against his ass like a mocking stamp of proof that he's all the way in. he wants to hear more than a groan out of him. though that dumbass demand earns the villain a slight tug as the young hero fists at his hair.] Who the fuck... do you think you're... talking to... I won't- fuck- fucking come... from just this. [each snarl and pant punctuates with dabi's thrusts, groaning as he pulls out, gasping when he shoves back in. over and over, setting that rhythm that has his arms snarled around his abused-but-victorious body, legs sliding and running against his hips and lower limbs. like hell does he think it'll stay like this for long.] Shit... ah-h... this is... heh... fuck, slow shit... I'll last all night... at this rate- guh!
no subject
Date: 12/27/23 02:19 (UTC)bakugou doesn't touch him like that, but if there's anything his body remembers, it's muscle memory: and it climbs up inside of his throat, and inside of his chest, and he wants to plant him down onto the floor and hold him at a distance, keep him from breathing on him, breathing with him, keep him at a safe and respectable length.
keep everything from bleeding together. keep them from bleeding together. the thought is sickening, like some sort of disgusting prank: how could either of them ever get to that kind of point, together? the whole point of this had been the fact that it could be sex and nothing else; he doesn't feel anything anymore, and bakugou is too stupid or too prideful or too disgusted himself to try. what sort of hero would want to fuck around with a villain, to start, but what sort of hero might feel something for a villain? fucking pathetic.
he probably doesn't. it's just sex. sex, and snarling, and the pant of bakugou's breath as he pushes inside, the stammering, thick murmur of his words, his demands, his gratification; it's slow, too slow to really drive bakugou to his limits, and by now, he's probably pushed past that too-close pain and has instead dived right into the intense boundaries of pleasure, swimming within its fences. frustrated, he lets out a curse, the thick of it falling against bakugou's ear; they're so fucking close it's uncomfortable, their bodies wrapped up, bakugou's ankles locked, his hands, his mouth, his voice, his breath-- )
Shut the fuck up. ( it's not really a command, not really a complaint, either: no one's home this time, so he doesn't have to jam his fingers over bakugou's mouth to keep him quiet; it's mostly just against the taunt that bakugou could go all night like this--sure, he might last awhile, but he doesn't think it would be all night. ) Gonna...piss me off...
( it's a threat that he only half-means: already he's rubbing his hips in, burying himself in further, deeper, all the way to the end; his balls press, smashed in against bakugou's ass, and rather than pull himself back, rather than work into that slow rhythm, he stays there, rutting into him, pushing when there's nothing else left to push. their bodies rock together, sliding the rug beneath them back and forth against the tile--all he gets is heat, and all he gets is the steady pulse of the head of his dick there, rubbing into tight, constrictive pleasure; he definitely thinks he's just gonna lose it, and whether that's his cool or his temper or his sanity, it's hard to say. everything's so fucking tight here, and they're so fucking close here-- )
Fuck. ( a hiss, dripping with intensity against bakugou's ear, where his face is still buried in, hidden against him--his hips stutter in again, a little wilder, a little less composed, a little less worried about how he's not giving bakugou any room to breathe. ) Fffuck. You're so fucking tight...
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Date: 12/31/23 17:34 (UTC)does he want to touch dabi like "that" in a way that makes the man shudder and reflect? who knows. he's thought about it before, whether anyone's held the villain in a caring and intimate manner that gives more of a shit than simply wanting his dick or his power. not that he'd ever admit to giving a shit about dabi... and yet, neither of them are turning on the other as they indulge in this stupidity when both of them should be on opposite sides of a barred divider.
instead, he's gripping at dabi's body, panting against the side of his neck while the other man husks and breathes so close to his ear. wrapped around each other on the floor, legs bent, body knelt, arms gripped, connected intimately below their hips as they move in an unmistakable rhythm that's as telltale as their voices. he asks himself the same thing. what sort of hero would feel anything for a villain? and yet, after his experiences, with those in his class, with people labeled "villain" who really aren't, with multiple humiliations and reflections forcing his maturity... win to save, right? if he could save dabi, would he? it's fucking annoying, but he knows the answer already. perhaps both of them do.
another flex of hips, a bony pelvis pushes against his ass, dabi's all the way inside and the blonde snarls thickly as he fists that spiky mop of black-drenched hair, ankles twisting together over dabi's ass to hold him close. no, he's nowhere near his limits with this pace, but feels like the man's doing that on purpose to be a bastard. it doesn't hurt in the bad way anymore, a sweet aching pain instead that reminds him of dabi's size and how damn deep his dick reaches inside of him. stretching him to the point of pleasure as his shaft slides in and out of his hole. until dabi curses right into his ear and the young hero seizes up involuntarily around his dick, because that just sounds as good as the sex feels. if dabi doesn't want to be caged in, then maybe he shouldn't have caged in this ticking time bomb in the first place.]
Don't tell me what to do. [command or complaint, neither stops him from responding. they don't have to be quiet, no palm over his mouth or fingers between his teeth or pillow bitten to shut him up. even if he can't go all night, he wants to. take the damn intent and like it. that's how good dabi makes him feel and hell if he's not going to make the other man feel as much of that same way as possible. pain may be dulled, but there are other sensations too.] Sounds fun-
[the taunt to that threat breaks off in a louder curse as dabi shoves his hips in again, getting even the deeper if possible. balls driven against his ass, making the blonde's cheeks flex and his tunnel spasm all around the man's head and shaft as nerves fire through his body. he expects him to thrust again, but instead, dabi stays buried to the hilt inside him and starts rutting. like a damn dog knotting his bitch. his body lifts slightly against the man's thighs, ankles falling apart and instead wrapping his legs individually over dabi's lower back and around the back of his thighs. dabi pushes forward, he pulls him forward, flexing together until they relax for a moment, then rut again. it's so damn hot, he's already a sweating mess, this only makes him leak more. everywhere. he instinctively flexes his ass, massaging and greedily grabbing at dabi's length the longer it stays inside him. constricting around him over and over as precum oozes and his balls shift in their smooth sac. maybe it won't be such a bad idea to lose it...]
Guh- ah! ah-hn... shit- [it's hard to breathe, almost impossible, his hips hiked off the floor, crushing his abs a bit, dabi's face against his ear hissing into his skull as the blonde clutches the back of his head with one hand and clings to the villain's back with the other. holding him selfish and possessive as more and more composure and restraint gets shaved off with each stuttering buck. they don't have to worry right now. that's the best fucking part.] Ba- bastard, you... don't get bigger- [it's totally not a complaint as dabi's dick twitches and flexes almost in tandem with his own throbbing dick oozing precum all over his abs. this guy's gonna burn him up.]
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Date: 1/10/24 04:27 (UTC)pushing at a bruise, picking at a scab, pulling at skin until it bleeds: having bakugou wrapped around him like this is just the same. he pushes so far into the unpleasant, sickening lurch at being this damn close to someone that he can feel their breath and feel their sweat and feel their body move in tandem with his own; he pushes into it so far that he gets past that feeling, gets past that disgust, gets past that horror. at some point, it becomes nothing but the pleasure in it: a shared pursuit, one of the only ones they'll ever agree on.
because that's what it is, in the end. it's sex, sex and snarling, yes, sex and bakugou's breath panting at him, sex and bakugou's voice taunting him, sex and bakugou's legs wrapped up around him and his arms around him and his dick smearing precum between them, eager and desperate for that cliff he's driving them over. no airbags and no coming back from the impact. and is it a little crazy, to think there's even more to get to? to keep pushing on it, keep pressing forward, keep rutting into his ass like he can get any deeper, like he can somehow find the strings that connect them, there, even though he doesn't want to be connected at all? what the fuck kind of fucked up feeling is that, to want to be close to someone? when has that ever worked out for anyone at all? bakugou might be clinging to him now, and he might be enamored with him now, and he might be desperate for him now, but all that is about the sex, about the release, about the tension.
and he's gonna lose it first, and he fucking hates that.
his chin ducks, a hissing breath against bakugou's ear that ends up smothered down into his neck, his shoulder, ends up smothered where his teeth skim and bite and pull at bakugou's skin, marking him up as he mouths his way back to his ear; he's still pressing into him, rocking them together like they're one unit, and the way those muscles go tight and slack and tight and slack around his dick drives him so close to orgasm that he has to close his teeth around bakugou's ear just to keep from yelling in frustration. not everything is as dulled as he wants it to be, and not everything is as dead as he wants it to be, either. )
Fuck off. ( to the point about his dick, and then, further, greedy and amused and hot in bakugou's ear, as he lets it go with his teeth-- ) And fuck you.
( there, now he's getting it: now he's finding his way back again, back from the hazy feeling of bakugou's body, coiled around his, like he actually means something; now he's back in the moment but apart from it, pulling his hips back--his dick catches, slick and clumsy and popped past the ring of bakugou's muscles, there, hooked on just by the head; there's a throaty, pleased sort of chuckle, and he pushes in again. bakugou's cock is caught between their bodies, but he doesn't care; his hips push in, pull out, push in, pull out, and this time, there's no mercy, none of that desperate rutting, none of that full connection. he fills bakugou just to deny him it again, and it feels fucking fantastic, and it feels like-- )
Come on, you're holding back on me. ( the words come out stuttered, pulled from the breath of exertion and the tingling of pleasure that rakes over him with every thrust of his hips into bakugou's pliant body; he has to taunt him, has to try to get him there, or he's going to lose himself to his orgasm first, and no, he's not going to lose something yet again. ) Come, scream, yell, pull my hair, really fucking feel it.
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Date: 1/15/24 18:37 (UTC)dabi's voice in his ear, his breath making the flesh of his neck crawl beneath perspiration beading up from his pores. smearing fluid along the villain's back and shoulders as he wraps around him like a possessive octopus, wanting to touch the wrinkled flesh of burn scars, smooth skin of places left unmarred, the staples that barricade those demarcation lines between the two patterns of dabi's body. another pulse inside his ass, another jet of precum glazing along the inside of his walls and getting so damn deep in his body he'll never get all of it out. he's not the only one who's eager for that resulting plunge. it's not as if he's deluded to their straights. dabi holds onto him now, ruts into his ass over and over, talks dirty into his ear, brings him right down onto the floor of his own bathroom and fucks him out in the open on the damn rug...
but once all of this is over, once sex is gone, they'll be on opposite sides again. back to expected hate, clashing goals, diametrically opposed lives. so why does a part of himself say "fuck all that" and continue to reach for him, trying to find some connection to clench his hand around and refuse to let go? it's fucked up, but then again, so is this. can they ever trade the sweat-soaked rug on the bathroom floor for the clean sheets of his bed, trade the panting breaths and growling words for a simple grunt of acknowledgement as they fall asleep side by side, exchange exploding palms and burning hands for the silent twine of fingers and a promise not to let go? ... it's so fucked up.
oh it's always gonna be a battle between them of who breaks first. as soon as his chin plunges behind his collarbone, that snarling exhale muffled against his neck, white teeth sinking into his flesh and earning dabi a harsh curse word shouted out into the steamy bathroom, a heavy pulse strums through his body, convulsing the young hero beneath the villain's crouched body as he bucks in that half-burned cage. almost. precum spews against his abs, almost reaching his chest, and his ass seizes up all around dabi's cock, clenching and sucking in a desperate attempt to stave off his own release as it bucks in his hips and kicks his balls hard enough to earn a moan of discomfort and growl of stubborn refusal. he doesn't know why he refuses; they can always fuck again. maybe it's because he doesn't want to stop even for that. where his body's getting marked up by bites and hickeys and scratches, his ass is stretching with each throb and thrust dabi skewers him with. in and out, tight and lose, grip and relax, thrust and pull, slap slap pant slap curse slap. maybe that proud brat inside dabi's grip is taking some minor victory in proving the villain still has raw nerves left somewhere.]
Sh- shut up- [he can talk about his dick all he damn well wants! even as those words seep into his ear, slick with teeth and lips that were just around it.] Keep moving. [it's hard to talk when it's broken up with hard breaths and needy sounds. maybe they don't need to deal with the emotional aspects. right. because that's what this is. sex. physical. what matters is the way those hips drag backwards from his ass, his cheeks harden in angry reluctance as his ass empties from that hot dick sliding backwards and catching at his rim stubbornly claiming dabi, until it pops free of his hole and leaves the tight little muscle grabbing for his oozing tip. he's laughing and the boy's snarling at the emptiness left behind.]
What're you wa- AH FUCK!! [and back in, slamming through his hole and filling his ass up with the same rod he's become so intimately acquainted with. his dick twitches between their stomachs, spilling precum into the sweaty glaze across his abs, until his sides are weeping with each dip of his diaphragm sending the pooling melange down his obliques. dabi's not being soft either, driving into him so hard his legs are fighting to keep themselves wrapped and hooked around the villain's body, instead of being bucked into the air to bounce and flail around like he's getting railed on the ground... which he totally is.]
As if I'd ever hold back! [hard to say that when every word stammers or crams itself against the preceding one in a single breath. over and over, pounded into, until he's yelling and cussing wordlessly in pleasure. fingers dig into dabi's hair, dragging at the dark spikes with their dyed coloring, fingertips clutching at his head and pulling him against his neck or trying to drag him in for a molten, open-mouthed kiss that's more tongue twisting between their jaws than anything intimate. how the hell can he feel anything but this?! dabi's igniting him this entire time and nothing else matters but him.] F-fuck- fuck me! Dabi! Fuck!
[he's going to break, he's going to come, he can't even form the words to warn him. balls tightening up, ass constricting around the villain's dick, his own shaft hardening like a rock between their abs as the hero wraps himself around the man once more. arms clinging, legs locking, hands grabbing and pulling, mouth hot and cussing as he bites, yells, cusses, kisses, and everything goes white. there's no way he can feel shit except for dabi. dabi and pleasure. bliss the villain dragged out of him as his balls pump out one string of thick white after another. bucking against the man, coiling tight with his limbs, screaming a single obscenity between them as dabi fucks his cum right out of him. bastard made him come first! not that he's thinking about such a thing as his entire body is a single-minded machine focused on touching as much of dabi's skin with his own as possible, and milking the villain for his own orgasm in vengeful greed.]
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Date: 2/12/24 00:50 (UTC)but fuck, what if it did? they're so close to the edge that it becomes something of a tumble, like they're wrestling for the side that will throw one of them over, and he's got the advantage, being on top; he can drive his cock down into bakugou's ass with reckless abandon, can rut and push and pulse and make him writhe against the bathroom rug with impact, but it doesn't make it any better, doesn't roll him further away from the impending weakness of orgasm. it isn't even really a weakness, but when they're both always battling for who will be the first to go, it feels like losing, feels like admitting something that he doesn't have the words for, feels like a tiny, terrifying little thing to just let all of that go and trust that it won't get thrown back in his face. case in point: he can feel the way that bakugou goes tight around him, can feel the way his own hips stutter, unable to drag himself back out far enough to slam back in again.
so he pushes, rubs, rolls his hips in; so his mouth finds bakugou's neck, his jaw, burying his face into it, and when he hits it, he knows that he hits it: all the muscles go tight around him, a sudden, searing clench of pressure around the shape of his cock, and there's a groan that rolls into bakugou's ear, a groan of pleasure and laughter alike; hot lines of cum spurt between them, milked from bakugou's orgasm, and he rocks into it, follows the give and take and pulse with his own tremoring breath, smearing it all between them. bakugou is all arms and legs around him, and despite his obvious orgasm, he's still not letting go: it's delicious and frustrating and terrible all at once, hissing a curse in against bakugou's ear as he pulls at the lobe. )
Fucking... ( he doesn't even have it in him to complain, can't find the insults he should find, can't find the anger or the frustration--instead he finds pleasure, the kind that almost hurts, tingling and threatening to push him right into orgasm. ) Fuck.
( his head bows, nestled hard into the crook of bakugou's neck; his hips push, relentless, nudging and driving and rubbing himself into bakugou's ass when he can hardly even stand to pull out--bakugou's muscles are starting to relax, now, but he doesn't want to lose that feeling, that feeling of being so desperately wanted inside, that feeling of being kept, and now it's too much, and now it's too far, and now he can't fucking think of anything but the impending release. he wants it. he wants it bad enough that he doesn't care when he curses into bakugou's skin, doesn't care when he comes, doesn't care that he plunges headfirst into the pool of all those feelings he doesn't want to feel, coming inside of him, coming hard inside of him. their chests touch, his arms giving way to the flat of the floor beneath them; for a long moment, he rides out the shot of pleasure that sings in his nerves, one of the few things that he can feel, in all its intensity.
his breath steadies, a little too quickly--but he doesn't lift his head from bakugou's neck, doesn't move, doesn't rip himself free of bakugou's ass, and that's telling, telling in a way he doesn't like. but for one quiet moment, he lets himself have that feeling: that feeling of being desired. their bodies stay together, and he only moves slightly, enough that he isn't fully crushing bakugou's dick between them; he pushes some weight back onto one arm, giving them both at least the space to breathe. )
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Date: 2/15/24 21:54 (UTC)question is, where's that satiation end? what if he did give a shit? what if he's thinking something just a sliver past the sensation of dabi's cock shoving into his ass all the way to his balls until he's throwing his head back and screaming in pleasure because it's dabi, dabi, fucking dabi who's fucking him. fucking him into the rug on the bathroom floor over and over as his orgasm wracks through every inch of his body. dragged out of him by dabi alone as he convulses in the throes of his climax. he knows he's caging him in, arm shackled around the man's scarred neck, leg throne over a narrow hip, another clutched round the back of his thighs until stapled seams dig into his calf, free arm grabbing for the man's anywhere he can. dabi made him come first and he can't be fucked to care now that it's happening. he lost, it's dabi's fault, and that fear of losing, the fear of how it makes him seem weak and vulnerable, that he couldn't win, no longer matters. all that matters is dabi's here with him. and that's really... really... fucked up.
his voice brands the shell of his ear and the slope of his neck, groaning in pleasure as the villain shove his face into the crook of his jaw and throat. so hot inside him, invading everywhere possible as he digs his fingers into the man's shoulder and holds on tight as the riptide of each jettison of semen tries to tear him away from dabi. stubbornly he holds on, ass clenching and spasming around the man's cock as he comes over and over. orgasmic shouts and cusses dwindle into panting moans and gasps as heavy spurts finally lessen into weaker jolts and spills between them, powered more by dabi's rocking hips than his own hardening abdominal muscles. of course he's not letting go. it feels too good to stop, he wants to keep dabi here against him, feel his body rutting at his own, their arms and legs tangled together in this twisted pool of desire and bad decisions. almost like a signature of dabi's frustration and excitement, that curse hisses into his ear and the blonde can barely get a smirk out of his gasping lips.]
Fuck- [together. even if he lost and came first, it's his own victory every time he feels dabi on the edge of impending orgasm. feeling him feel. pleasure built up until the man can't keep it inside any longer. one hand manages to free itself and instead buries into dabi's hair, cupping his skull as the man presses into the curve of his neck again, each relentless push, needy drive, aroused rub, barely even letting himself pull out enough to make it an actual thrust, before everything goes hard and white all over again. it's like dabi grabs the drawstrings and yanks once more. he shoves his face into the man's neck, howling in pleasure as his cock hardens and thickens inside him and dabi comes. comes inside him, hard, fast, hot, thick, wet, messy, pumping seed into him with every heady spurt and throe wracking over the man's body. he feels it inside his ass, feels it against his arms and legs, clinging to dabi's shuddering, burn-scarred figure as muscles tremor and their chests and stomachs heave together with their weighted breaths. emotions he doesn't want to think of flare without hesitation as dabi claims him again with another curse.
want him, help him, save him, keep him, mine, so good, fuck, hot, fuck- rush. dabi sinks against him and he's pushed against the floor hard, eyes closing and head dropping as he pulls the man down with him. wherever they end up on the ground, however they end up, doesn't matter. his heart hammers in his chest, he feels dabi's beating against his own in the same fierce rhythm, hell he feels his pulse throbbing in his dripping ass as much as his own pulse is slamming in his wrist holding against dabi's shoulder blade. wanted. desired. it's an intense sensation, knowing you're thought of so much it drives someone else to this brink of pleasure. dabi moves so as to not crush him and the blonde deliberately uses his elbow to knock the buttress of the other man's arm out, dropping him right back down atop him. his dick can take it. dabi's warm and wet and feels good and he's selfish enough not to want to lose any of that. just wants to lie here and hold onto him for a few more seconds, connected like this.
before slowly easing off the various grips he has around dabi, giving him room to move. it's not like either of them are all that clingy to begin with.]
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Date: 2/19/24 01:01 (UTC)and that's when it all gets a little sour. the cling of bakugou's arms, the clutch of his legs, gets looser around him; the frantic breath beneath his own chest steadies, rounding back out into normal inhales, normal exhales. suddenly they're too close, and suddenly they're too intimate, and suddenly it's all just far too much for him, pushing far too close to all those feelings that he claims not to feel anymore, all the vestiges of what he used to be or what he could have been, all of those tiny littles hopes that never became anything at all. it pisses him off, the feeling, makes his skin itch in irritation; steadying a breath himself, he slowly pushes back up onto his elbows and then, carefully, up onto his palms. one hand reaches in between them, skimming wordlessly along the hard line of bakugou's body to find the place where they still meet. his dick's going soft, but it isn't uncomfortable just yet--he isn't fully a monster, at least not here, and so he's careful about the way they separate, bracing a hand against the base of his cock as he pulls his hips back, a steady rhythm, until it snaps past that ring of muscle and they separate.
kind of a fucked up feeling. then again, he's used to that. there's no part of him that's going to get what he wants except for that one thing he wants, and that should be enough. there's no part of his plan that involves getting too involved with the dumb brat they kidnapped, no part of his plan that has any sort of redemption, or even future, for how this will go. the people that he wants to die will die, and he'll die with them.
with a slow wheeze of breath, playfully exhausted, he uses one elbow to swing back, away from bakugou's body, instead choosing to flatten himself on his own back next to him; the rug doesn't stretch quite that far, so it's just cold tile he gets to lay on--a few of those bottles he swept off the counter are near his head, rattling around near his wet hair. )
Now what? ( there's some amusement in his gravely voice, eyes closed, one hand lifting to push his bangs away from his eyes a little. ) You gonna play nurse, feed me, or tuck me into bed?
( or is bakugou going to come to his senses and kick him out like he should? it's hard to say. there's probably more of that hero bullshit that will come into play here, no matter how much he dislikes it; he'll probably feel sorry for him or something equally pathetic if he forces him back into his clothes, wet hair and all, and kicks him out the front door. clothes, that's another good point: maybe he can stick them in the wash while he's here.
stupid thoughts. he'll take any thoughts, really, anything that isn't focused on how the distance between them feels funny, now, unwarranted and unpleasant. )
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Date: 3/3/24 19:29 (UTC)the irritating part is the growing want for 'more' out of this. the first time was a fucking mistake, the second time was a strange rush, and the times beyond that were mutual agreements not to kill each other in exchange for escaping from everything for the sake of physical pleasure. a few hours together, tangled in the sheets, occasionally in the shower or on the floor, trading barbed comments or sarcasm, doing little to nothing involving hero or villain, personal lives silenced so as to not give away anything... and yet the more time they spend together, the more he learns about dabi in the news and shit, the more he wants. it pisses him off, these thoughts that invade his mind while the villain sleeps beside him, the damn feelings that dare to poke their heads up as their bodies rock together, the way his ears burn at the sound of his voice. there's such a divide between them, reality driving that wedge in... but he wants to jump the gorge and grab onto him before dabi vanishes entirely. somehow prove to this asshole there's something beyond a pile of ash at the end of his stupid life.
it's always harder to follow those thoughts as the afterglow fades and his brain can work beyond the sex-addled concoction dabi pours through it when they're fucking. no longer gripping him as hard, the villain's hand easing up in the harsh clench in his hair, breaths calming down and rationale taking over. it hits like a truck almost at the same time. how close they are, how their bodies stick together, how he's holding onto dabi, and what all of that could possibly mean as they lie here together. it's gone from afterglow to intimate and his pride is quick to lash out in annoyance over it. despite being the one to drag him back for a few more minutes. there's no fight when dabi pushes himself back up, arms falling away and legs opening to release him from that physical cage. but at the same time, he doesn't shove him off or knee him away, letting dabi run his hand down the wet surface of his muscular torso, leaving lines from chest to stomach to groin, until fingers touch their union once again. shit... here comes the worst/best part. when he pulls back, sliding his softening cock out of his ass, steady and smooth in one motion that has him cussing softly in annoyance and pleasure as dabi's length slides through his ring and finally tugs free with a pop he feels as much as hears among their breaths. it's the last tie and they're both no longer connected.
no thoughts, no feelings, no desires, no bodies, no pleasure, it's just two separate people once more. he shouldn't be here, dabi shouldn't be here, they shouldn't be doing this, none of their plans and desires line up, their lives won't ever run parallel with each other's. he aims to be the greatest hero in the world. there's no room for reaching out to a villain and offering mercy, courting redemption for someone who's killed so many. it would be easy to take him out right here, right now. defeat, capture, kill, end.
but he doesn't. he doesn't want dabi to die. even if he hates what he's done, he can't bring himself to hate him. which is fucking weird. and he tries not to think about it as the other man dismounts him and flops onto his back beside him, mostly on the tiles rather than the rug, but cold doesn't bother dabi so why the fuck should he care. only thing he does is draw his arm slightly so the guy ends up with his head on his arm rather than clunked against the floor. call it a fucking accident if you want! he definitely didn't do it on purpose. right.]
Shut up. I don't play any of that shit. [his voice is rough from the shouting and panting earlier, but still as serious and determined as ever. his other hand swings around, fishes on the floor for a second, and catches one of the bottles that's been lying on the ground for the past however long.] I'm gonna do it.
[he said, or implied, he was going to tend to dabi's wounds and fuck if this guy thinks he's going to back down from that intent just because he wants to be an angry prick. yeah, he should kick the villain out. should punch him in the head and drag his unconscious body to the police. but instead, those staples need to be looked at, medicine applied, and a bandage or two for good measure. before gruffly telling the villain to crash here for the night. that's the plan. if laundry happens, it happens. but no, he's not going to kick him out, wet-haired, cum-tacky, and dismissed.]
If you got a problem with any of that, spit it out now so I can tell you to shut the fuck up before you spend the night.
no subject
Date: 3/10/24 23:46 (UTC)( his eyes are closed--it's somehow easier to handle it, with his eyes closed. he doesn't have to look up at the lights in the bathroom and remember where he is, doesn't have to look over and see bakugou's face, wet with sweat or bathwater, dripping from the tips of his uselessly pointed hair. it's easy to play pretend, but it's easier still when he doesn't have to be consciously aware that every inch of this place is a place he doesn't belong--that same feeling, itching and crawling inside of him from years before, standing on that tatami he used to know like the back of his hand and looking at a picture of himself, framed and pretty, in a house that had remained exactly the same, in a family that had remained exactly the same. he hadn't belonged there, either.
reality is a hard pill to swallow, sometimes. his reality, now, is something that he's constructed, something he's stitched together like the map of his mottled skin, bleeding from real to unreal and back again. the reality is that there's nothing left for him, in places like these, with people like this--bakugou is going to be some fucking dumbass hotshot hero, someone who upholds the same society that should be put to rest, and he's going to do it without realizing all the terrible things he's standing for. sometimes he thinks bakugou deserves it, and sometimes he thinks he almost feels sorry for him, in a way: as though it's a raw talent and raw determination wasted on something that doesn't deserve someone that good.
ridiculous, stupid things: he forces his eyes open, forces himself to look up at the bathroom ceiling, and then sighs. with a groan, he pushes up: first onto elbows, and then, bending at the middle, to sit up entirely; it's probably better to do this in the bathroom, where blood can be wiped off tile just as easily as ash can be, but he's still not entirely sure he's going to play along nicely, still not entirely sure what he wants to do. one hand lifts, fingers raking back through wet hair, trying to push it away from his face--but his gaze is angled down at bakugou, narrowed and gauging, like a predator trying to decide if it's worth it to take down troublesome prey. )
Let's see what your fancy-ass hero training taught you, then.
( sure, he assumes that bakugou knows the ins and outs of basic field medicine, maybe--at least that's what he remembers himself, remembers asking his father about, remembers learning about all the kinds of things he would be learning once he got into UA.
now there's a funny joke. the thought makes his expression warm, a little, but it's with the heat of pleased irritation. )
Is this good enough, nurse? ( the words drawl out of him, as he shifts, slightly, sliding until his back can hit the cabinet beneath the sink and stretch his long legs out in front of him--easier for him to lean up against something, anyway. he doesn't really care if he's just sitting out naked on bakugou's bathroom floor, and he's too lazy to reach for a towel anywhere, so here they are. ) Promise I'll be a good boy.
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Date: 3/15/24 02:40 (UTC)[that's the entire point he growled at him for! he cracks his eyes open halfway, red irises slowly losing their lust-blown glaze and narrowing into focus at the ceiling above. everything else is also melting away from the heat, solid pierces of reality pushing up into the world once more. lying beside a villain, naked on the bathroom floor, just fucked post shower, an uncertain night ahead of him if dabi decides to be a self-depreciating asshole. unlike dabi, he lets his eyes slide to the side, gazing at the man from the peripheral of his vision. watching the way his breath leaves his half-burned lips partially open on the profile of his handsome face, the way his choppy black bangs hang into his eyes, the occasional trickle of water or sweat down his skin... of course dabi doesn't belong in the bakugous' house; he belongs in his own home, with his own family, as ridiculous as that notion would be to spit out of his mouth.
but that's not for him to say. they're on two different sides of reality right now. dabi lives for a world destroyed, longing to work with that group of villains who think the only way to "fix" anything is to wreck it all and then... and then what? all of them seem to have differing opinions on that. idiots. there are other ways to fix. other ways to be noticed. it's a shame people haven't noticed those ways until now, when those ways no longer work, and the villains have moved to more drastic measures. stupid ass villains. some of them do want change. most of them just selfishly want to kick things over and throw a fucking tantrum rather than take responsibility for messing up their own rotten lives. heroes are to blame, yeah, he's had to admit to that hard reality. but villains aren't some innocent group of victims. dabi and the others deserve to get defeated and locked up for all they've done, if not straight out executed... but it'd be a lie to say he doesn't regret dabi's plight. he could've been someone great... rather than infamous.
as dabi moves, he shifts with him, swings one arm behind him as the brunt of his rise is taken by his abdominal muscles, crunching and hardening beneath his skin in visible flex to lift himself up onto his ass. tension ripples through him, teeth gritting and lips peeling away in a silent snarl of sensation. fuck, this bastard really railed him tonight. but that's pushed aside as he tents a knee and slides a foot flat to brace himself on his arm while twisting at the torso to face dabi. there's a moment of decision, when the man is either going to stand up and walk the fuck out of the house... or accept the offer he's been threatened with. that hand combs though his hair, pulling raven spikes away from his face and rifling across his crown in a glossy flicker of spines. but those eyes are locked onto him, and he meets them, crimson eyes lancing back from behind his dripping ashen blonde bangs, daring him to even try to pounce.]
Che. I'll show you what I've got. [he's not professing to be a practicing surgeon or even the greatest doctor in the hospital. but he does know more than basic field medicine, capable of setting bones, binding splints, acceptable low-risk surgery (like getting a fish hook or bullet out of an arm or leg), cauterizing & suturing, proper bandaging, and other things. enough he's sure he can tend to dabi's wounds and at least make sure they're clean, as well as deal with extracting broken staples or those in need of redoing. he can't staple them, but he can either stitch or bandage the areas if dabi wants. that's the plan at least.]
Good enough, smart ass. [while the villain situates himself on the floor, he pushes himself up completely, twisting to his feet as he rises to go for the sink. two items from the floor get swept up from where dabi knocked them earlier, but the other things he takes from the ruined sink set up. medical pliers and scissors, tweezers, cotton swabs, antibacterials, needle and sanitary thread, disinfecting wipes, and dragging the nozzle out of the sink faucet holster to have access to running water when he takes a seat beside dabi on the floor. never mind he's leaking cum out his ass... deal with that later.
before leaning in to kiss him once more. whether it takes dabi by surprise or not. a quick, solid thing that breaks after a second or two. the guy can take it whatever way he wants. after that, he's going to work on those staples. the shower definitely helped clean things generally, so now he focuses on removing the bad ones, efficient with his skill in removing them without tearing dabi's good flesh, since it's still a little damp from the shower and sex afterwards. the blood that runs is dabbed up by a wet washcloth or disinfectant wipes. he's quick, attentive, and mindful of dabi's body.] You went hard tonight.
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Date: 3/20/24 00:33 (UTC)perhaps those are fears that only the privileged get to have. when he woke up after that fated night, years later, he hadn't had the luxury of being afraid of the hospital, of bandages, of the skin that had been given. he hadn't been able to be afraid of needles or medicine, or to do anything but come face to face with the reality of his new life: his body couldn't handle the one thing he had been born to do, and hadn't that just been the crux of it all? even with his nerves all dulled, now, matte and unpolished, there's the occasional thrum of something, something akin to that pain he had learned how to push past in his youth. but he hadn't been able to do anything but adapt to a life that now included all these things that bakugou gathers, now: on a good day, anyway.
it's not like he has regular access. honestly, the kid is kind of doing him a favor, loathe as he is to admit it--which is why he just grunts, a low breath of displeasure, as bakugou gathers everything and eases down onto the floor with him.
the kiss--is unexpected. he'd expected some sort of growling complaint, the faintest pinch of his skin as he tended to half-hanging staples and sagging skin. but instead, it's something warm, and eager, something full and entirely unwarranted; his tongue swipes out, licks the taste of that kiss of his mouth as bakugou moves to settle in for more pertinent business.
fucking sap. )
Did I? ( he says it after a moment, his head hanging forward, spine bent as though it helps bakugou tend to what he needs to--all things considered, he isn't complaining or even trying to hinder bakugou's work, something that he thinks deserves praise. ) With you, you mean? Or before you?
( a hand moves, but only so that he can squeeze at his bangs, dribbling water down into his lap. it spatters against the tops of his thighs. )
If you're too sore, I'll carry you to bed. ( it sounds gleefully condescending--his chin lifts a little, a grin echoing the same sentiment. )
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Date: 3/20/24 02:46 (UTC)some would say it's a blessing, but he thinks it's a curse to not feel pain. pain's one way to know you're alive, sometimes that you're improving, and as it fades, hopefully that you survived and came out stronger. he's weathered the strain on his arms until his muscles screamed, only to tell them to shut up and deal with it. get stronger. his pain often came deliberate and by choice, breaking himself over and over to improve. did dabi ever have that luxury to choose? he doesn't know. maybe, before all of this. now it's unlikely. as he draws out a staple and catches the blood on a cloth, he notes the lack of flinch, lack of tension, lack of pain. tch, so much got damaged. hadn't there been another way? patting at the injury, he waits for it to clot and stop leaking, then anoints it with antiseptic and moves to the next area.
be upset if you want, crispy. the fact is, you're letting him do it, and he's not going to back down from the action. thing is, the more time dabi spends with him, the less time dabi's out there causing trouble for someone else or himself. down his arm this time, inspecting each one in a quick, thorough trail that cleans as he goes if needed. the man just got a shower. he doesn't need soap and water. bruises, cuts, broken metal, any of those things. without staples, he's left with sutures, cleaning the previous holes left behind by the removed staples and using medical thread and needle to close up. dabi can snip them open and staple them as he likes later.
call him a sap to his face; try it. cause he's not.]
With me. I dunno what the fuck you were doing before. [only that it warranted getting a shower before they fucked. with dabi's head bowed and spine curved, he's able to get to the needed places on his front, though it's his back that he'll want to reach for once he's done here. after all, he hadn't been grasping at the villain's pecs for the majority of their fucking. sure, the idea to touch and fondle while he's working is there. dabi's attractive and they've got a sexually-charged whatever-the-fuck this is going on... but that can come later. when he's done checking him over and treating him.
as water dribbles down from those squeezed bangs, he uses small spill to wipe at dabi's thigh and flush some of the beading blood from a removed staple. there's a brief scoff at the very suggestion and metal clinks into the small plate collecting them. luckily there's not a lot. dabi didn't show up a bloody mess after all.]
Don't look down on me, dammit. [that taunting tone and lifted chin get a middle finger jutted up at him in return as he glowers into his face.] I'll throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
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Date: 3/30/24 23:38 (UTC)he doesn't say anything about the state that he's in, doesn't lecture him to knock it off, or even lecture him to take better care of himself. he deals with the situation at hand, rather than the looming future--and he won't say it, won't even dare put any sort of kindness to his tongue like that, but it's a relief. it's a relief, not being picked apart on the inside, not being lectured for being a scarred piece of shit--he can remember every time endeavor took him by the arm, by the wrist, by his leg, his waist, screaming at him for his injuries, his stupidity, his lack of foresight.
bakugou may be some righteous, dumbshit hero, but at least he isn't like that. and because of it, he can sit there, in peace--he can sit there, and let bakugou do whatever will make bakugou feel a little better, and honestly? he needs it, anyway. he can't really feel the prick as bakugou drags away half-lodged staples, can't feel the sting where water touches the edge of a wound, or where blood laps at healthy skin. he's so estranged from his body in that way that it's helpful to have bakugou here, giving him a once-over, at least before he goes out into the world the next morning and fucks shit up again. at least this way he won't be falling apart in ways he can't recognize.
but the words make him chuckle--half of a sound, from pursed lips, glancing up at him from beneath the shadow of wet bangs. )
Yeah? You're a little small for that, short stuff.
( nevermind that he's only got--what, an inch on the kid? he's not going to think about that. not his fault, either--he blames all that on his mother, the fact that he'd been small, undergrown, not as tall as natsu, not even as tall as the stupid miracle baby shouto.
one arm lifts, pushing mildly at bakugou's shoulder, setting him off balance just for the hell of it. )
Do I pass inspection now? You took your time.
( with a groan, he straightens up, rolling his shoulders back, trying to feel for the telltale crack that sets his muscles straight; as much as he'd been thinking of washing his clothes, maybe hunting around for some food, liquor, whatever else he might find in this perfect house, he's got to admit that grabbing bakugou around the waist and hauling him back to bed sounds like the best plan out of all of them. )
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Date: 4/4/24 23:24 (UTC)there's no point in growling at the man to watch his health, to stop his madness, to look at himself and ask hard questions. time for that is past. what matters now sits in front of him, sinewy muscles flexing when he draws a staple from his skin, breath coming silently as he sews a temporary hold in dabi's flesh, patience holding as his body's treated. actions speak louder than words. he could say he gives a shit until he's out of breath, but dabi won't believe him. yet each time he proves it when they meet like this... he's not some broken doll the hero can fix. but he is a person he can help, one way or another. and thankfully, dabi's not filling the time with patience-trying talk about how stupid heroes are or what the villains are going to do. that'd get a bottle shoved in his mouth.
is this about making himself feel better? yeah. it'd be dumb to deny it. selfishly, he gets dabi's attention, because there's a small part of him that thinks the guy's cool in some ways. but heroically he's making sure the man won't fall apart and further wreck himself even if just a proverbial band-aid slap. keeping dabi's presence with him keeps his presence away from shigaraki and the rest, even if for a scant time. the man needs help even if he won't admit it. tiny pieces of help that do little more than show him some people in this world do care enough to reach out. as water washes away the blood and he dabs cotton and medicine on the cleaned wounds, all he can do is accept that reality as much as dabi's accepting the aid. neither of them is going to stop the other. villain. hero. right now, they can just be people.]
Try me, jerky strip. [dabi doesn't even have more than two inches on him, and he can lift way more than the villain weighs. without quirks, he could easily pin him down and hold him. a train of thought he refuses to entertain. he got some amazing genes and he'll choose when to use them. apparently getting railed on the bathroom floor is one choice. though damn is it tempting to carry dabi to bed just to spite the dumbass-]
Oy! You wanna get stabbed?! [he's got a fucking needle and thread here! don't go shoving him! but as dabi straightens his back and rolls his shoulders, that gives his the chance needed to sidle around to his left and deliberately wedge an elbow between the man and the cabinet.] I'm almost done, brat. [big brat. now he can access dabi's back and give it a brief check over, while the villain stretches his muscles out of that curved position he's been sitting in. inspecting the seams of his skin, the staples there, the amusing indent of the cabinet door offsetting his spine. it won't take long. then they can do whatever. dabi's free to pull his dirty clothes on and walk the hell out into the world again, or get something to eat/drink before crashing for the night while his clothes take a lap around the washing machine.
or drag the blonde off to bed, though he'll be joining dabi there soon enough anyways.] One more. [prick, clean, disinfect, suture, wash, ointment, and done. he won't test the man's patience any further as he scoots back and gives dabi his space/freedom.]
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Date: 4/20/24 22:39 (UTC)( it's physically impossible for him to let bakugou have the last word. he just won't do it.
instead, he stretches his arms forward, waiting. the little pinprick doesn't bother him, and the distant sting of disinfectant doesn't feel like anything but a small reminder that he's present in his body, that he isn't just operating it by distant strings. good manners would say he should thank bakugou for doing it at all, but he's not going to bother; if they're mutually getting something out of it, then why acknowledge it at all? still, when bakugou scoots back, away from him as though in some measure of finality, he tilts his head, giving him one slow, measured glance before he plants his hands on the cool tile floor.
getting up onto his feet is easy, maybe, but even he's a little blown out by the feeling of a good fuck--and all of that tiny, miniscule care, bent over against the cabinets, against bakugou, against the floor, makes him let out a breath of complaint as he finally stretches to full height. at least he's not about to step on the mess of scattered tools that bakugou's left all over the floor, not going to kick away the other bottles he'd swiped off the counter in playful disobedience. instead, he works his way towards the door frame of the bathroom, utterly tolerant of being naked, here: what's the point of being shy? bakugou's seen and touched and crawled all over every inch of him. )
You got something I can wear? ( the wordless assumption that bakugou will be washing his other clothes gets threaded into the smug amusement in his voice. ) Eh, I'm just gonna go through your stuff.
( a hand braced at the door frame helps him push past it--he shouldn't, but he knows the layout of this place, knows which doors he should open, which doors he should leave closed. bakugou's room isn't far from the bathroom: and he creaks the door open with a wide palm, not bothering to turn on the light. the warm glow from the hallway pools into it, and he moves towards a dresser, immediately yanking open one drawer, and then another, palming playful, greedy fingers through the neatly folded items there. )
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