👿 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]

[unfair. crimson flushes across a face fair as snow, accenting both white and red sides of his hair in similar style. embarrassed? no. shy? not really? touched? definitely. blood rushes to todoroki's face and no force on earth could stop the way his head gravitates towards the other man's. tilting as eyes close, finding the perfect tone of his lover's lips and sealing his mouth together with his in a lock. hot, wet, soft, teeth fitting seamlessly. screw some chaste plush of puckered lips for a simple smack. he opens his mouth and kisses him hard and passionate. taste him. feel him. the shape of his mouth, the curve of his lips, cupid's bow nuzzling to his own as his heart slams in his chest as if it can leap free and settle snug and safe within todoroki's own. only permitting a few seconds of contact before he presses his tongue past his jaws and spills it into his boyfriend's mouth. connected in so many ways all at once, bodies touching mouth, chests, arms, legs, skin, skin, fucking more skin. until he can't tell where his body ends and todoroki's begins. feel him, reaching inside, around, covering, wanting this man to know he wants only him.

there are scars he can't heal, unable to brush his hand across them and leave his skin fair and perfect. but as he tilts his head the opposite way, mouths breathing enough to reveal twin tangling muscles writhing together amid saliva and needy panting breaths, he claims in silent worship this man is perfect to him. no matter his wounds, his hurt, his frustrating naivety, his history, his strength, none of that shit matters as he gathers todoroki into his body. muscles flex around his shoulders as he wraps one arm from left to right, another hooks round the supple arch of his lower back to gather him into his lap. no tool, no curse, no mistake, no vessel, no scar, no hero. right now, with him, todoroki is his. and there are many words trailing after his heated claim.

no need to thank or tease or say anything. words pour from his body with every flex of strong muscle. thighs snag around his waist, knees tenting towards his ribs, biceps squishing to his shoulders, ass tightening so greedily around his cock. he catches todoroki's lower lip between his teeth, tongue driving firm and hot across his captured skin. the sounds of his low sonorous voice moaning into their combined steam bleeds hot and raw into his ears, encouraging another curl of his hips and rocking upward to drive his shaft further inside his lover's squelching grip. god, he's searing, as if his cock's going to burn off in his molten clutch. so tight and snug around every part of him possible, even as he feels todoroki stretching almost painfully to take all of him in. raw sensations force his boyfriend's abs into a clenching spasm as he bottoms out inside his rump, swinging his hips close into his lap thanks to a pair of athletic arms tightening around his traps and nape. finally letting him break the kiss with a husky pant. tch... he misses todoroki's mouth already.]

"Good"? [husking from his lips in a dangerous, lust-thickened growl. fingers dig into his shoulder's meat, squeezing down onto his split delta and massaging his joint "angrily" with each kneading ripple. oh fuck, he loves this sensation, not only todoroki's hole stretching and squeezing every sensitive inch of his glans and shaft, but the sensation of his ankles knotting behind his tailbone, toes curling in intense pleasure, calves straining wire taught in effort to alleviate some of his pressure. when he feels so damn good, nothing else matters. and yet...] Gonna piss me off, Shouto...

[muscles harden, coiling under his soaking skin as tension springs. all the way inside, buried to his balls within his lover's ass, and it's not good enough. fuck, hearing him say his name, clear and breathy. also not good enough. his hand drops, strong fingers splaying over one globe of todoroki's ass. gripping hard enough to make dents in his toned glute. teeth in his neck, eyes buried under his two-toned bangs plastered to his skin, nuzzling and turning with a wet splat on his flesh. that quivering breath... fuck, all of it's not enough.]

It's not good enough if you just feel fucking "good", Shouto. [deepening to a sneer and snarl, love and arousal burning in his eyes as every long cable in his thighs harden and he crashes upward in a surge. water splashes behind todoroki's back, spilling over their tub's rim as he drives his lover a few inches ascent on the wall. clinging to him, pulling him in close as he fucks hard through his breathless voice and repeated phrase. his cock pulses and throbs within the other man's spasming walls, rubbing furiously with his heated thrusts. in and out, in and out, slamming into todoroki's ass with a burning fervor. as soon as his head falls back, baring his beautiful throat, he leans in and attacks it, teeth finding the swell of his voicebox. clamping down in a claiming, animalistic bite, marking him.] I want you to feel it so hard, "good's" a damn insult.

[pounding into him until todoroki's bouncing on his hips amid the water, legs desperately holding on as he ruts into him over and over. not stopping until he's shaken his breath into gasps and pants and he's making more noise than before. only then does he capture his mouth again, pouring his tongue inside and making out hot and heavy with his lover. wanting him to feel it, how important he is to him, how hard his heart's going.] I love you, you gorgeous idiot. And I'm not gonna stop until I brand that into your body.

[hairsplit]

( like always, the admiration for what bakugou can do is almost enough to split his thoughts in with shame. the fact that bakugou can just say things like that, can just tell him that he loves him, compliment him, demand things of him without wavering, without trembling on the words like they aren't the right things to say; the fact that bakugou can gather him up in his arms and squeeze him in close, slide him in more over his lap to give himself more clearance, more room to rock and lash the water in around them with his movements. it's almost overwhelming enough that his hands want to lift, to cover his face, hide in the brace of his arms, like he can't let bakugou see the face that he's making after all--like he's so afraid of baring it all in the same way, in more than just the twist of lust and arousal and greed that makes his legs tighten, heels skidding against bakugou's tailbone before regrouping to hook in again, stubborn. he's most exposed this way, when it's bakugou between his legs, slid tight inside of him, fucking him like he won't let up--it's the closest that he's ever let another person be, and even when it's him between bakugou's legs, rutting him into the pillows, into sheets sticky with precum and sweat, it doesn't hit him with the same quivering fear.

it's easy to look good, when he's the one that's got the control. it's harder to let that sort of thing go, to let the walls drop, to allow his reactions to be telegraphed across his skin, his lips, his eyes, his throat, instead of reading them before letting them out, allowing only the best things to shine through. here, he's completely exposed to bakugou's touch, and more than that, it's the feelings that he's awash in, just like the bathwater, that heat him up from the inside out, his face now too flushed to even bother trying to get it under control. because who the hell else could say something like that? he'd never once considered that someone could really love him, not like this, and then somehow he'd fallen right into it all--

it's so hard to contend with that, to try to understand it, when bakugou's cock drives up inside of him, when he can feel the wet skin of his sac slapping in against the curve of his ass; his mouth gapes, lips parted, desperate for breath that he can't get a hold of, not when his throat is betraying him with soft little groans of pleasure, punctuated by the roll of bakugou's hips up against him, relentless and sure. bakugou's mouth skims his throat, biting at it, and then he's up over his lips, sealing him into a messy kiss that he can only hold onto for so long; he has to break it apart, his head falling back, gasping for a heady breath. )

Don't say stuff like that... ( the words come out as less of a command and more like begging; a part of him wants to laugh, wants to cry, because the feeling is too intense, riding so hard on the edge of an orgasm that he knows is going to be a little too blinding, with the way bakugou's attention rolls over him. ) I love you, I love you, I'm so close I'm--

( where is the rest of that thought? he can't find it, his tongue tied up in other things, another breathy sigh of pleasure, his legs so tight that bakugou can barely move within the clutches of his thighs. one arm gropes in around bakugou's neck, squeezing at him, but the other wanders, gripping at the edge of the bath like it'll keep them both from toppling over; he can hear the splash of the water around them, tumbling over the porcelain, staining the floor, but he doesn't care. the feelings are starting to converge, blocking out all his thoughts, a husky laugh escaping just out of the sheer shiver of pleasure that bakugou's movements force into him. )

Make it even better, come on. ( it's the warmth of a challenge that he doesn't even have to give: but the hazy stare of lidded eyes falls onto bakugou's handsome face, and despite his own blush, he's starting to smile, like some lovedrunk idiot that's had one cup too many, his hair a wet tangle around his face. ) Harder. I'm almost there, I'm gonna come, I want to come, don't leave me behind...

[blastedass]

[he'll drag it out of him. todoroki's heat and heart. until this bastard's not ashamed to hear him say things so bluntly when he's got the same damn capacity licking behind his mouth. pisses him off; this guy can spew the dumbest shit with the straightest face, yet stumbles red-faced and pouting over a few simple words. he should hate it, but damn if charm works through his ire and seizes into his heart. another element of todoroki he loves, prompting him to latch onto his throat and bite at this stupid sexy column so capable of choking on things his lover wants to say. he sucks, he drags, pulling blood to the surface and snapping tiny vessels underneath until his mark's left behind. veins throb blow his tongue, dragging wet and languid over a tormented blemish he made himself on his boyfriend's skin. all to hear him gasp and choke on his breath as he drives up into him over and over. one arm cupped around his shoulders, fingers digging into the meat of well-formed muscle covering the round; the other loops about his lower back, hyper aware of his narrow waist fitting perfectly in the crux of his embrace. pulling him bodily forward until todoroki's gathered in his lap, impaled skin to skin as they connect over and over in a deep dance. he loves him, loves the way he responds, the way he talks, the way he sounds. if it mortifies him to hear it... too fucking bad.

god damn. feels as if his face is burning off his skull. he's the one who's supposed to be in control, supposed to be putting todoroki through this pleasurable wringer. why's it him shuddering as those long legs tighten around his hips? right, because he likes it so damn much. feeling each cable in his thigh ripple and pull taut on the arch of his pelvis as he thrusts up to the hilt. right there, huh? when he drops him until every inch buries inside and his balls curve a heady slap in the water on his cheeks. groans rumble in his chest, puffing through the seal of his lips and todoroki's neck as his mind grasps more details. each thrust and the other hero's trying to find some kind of grounding, digging his heels into his tailbone, grinding them against the top of his ass each time his hips roll and ruts up into his boyfriend once more. halfway out and one slips, jutting a foot a few inches behind him. he lets todoroki slip and drop himself onto the length of his dick, right before he leans in and bites down on the opposite side of his neck. heh, he likes that. managing to stifle some noise, but failing to stop his scrambling ankles knotting together over his cleft. stubborn boy... he should force him to say it, but it's so as intense to hear it directly from his body.

breaking him free of that control. fire and ice in one. normally so composed and calm, even sweltering as they make love, he's seen his beautiful face gazing down above with barely a quivering lip, flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. swears he's seen steam leak out of his skin and ears from time to time. yet as beautiful as that is, there's a whole different side, when his teeth grit and his eyes hide behind his bangs, sweat drips as control evaporates into intense motions leaving them both bouncing on the sheets. he loves both sides of him, fire and ice. when he's barely in control of himself, and like now, when he's ripping todoroki's inhibitions to shot via both action and word. burying himself inside a velvet tunnel squeezing him hard enough to make him think their flesh melded. hauling him up onto his body until nothing but his head remains inside, smirking into his gaping mouth and gulping breaths, threatening a kiss, before tightening both arms around his mate and yanking him back down to seal inside again. the bones in todoroki's neck go limp, dropping his head back, soaking bangs falling towards his temples, and he can't resist another bite to his exposed throat.]

I'll say whatever I want! Until you hear it each time I touch you! [romantic, passionate crap he'd be yelling at todoroki for daring to say to him. teeth mark once more, leaving another claim on his throat as he pounds up into him. feeling his own dick bounding crazily between their stomachs, slapping in the water against one set of abs before bouncing off the opposing set like an abused tent pole. panting breaths affirming his love... each one stabs through his heart, reminding him repeatedly what they have here. together. he draws back enough to work his way up, trailing todoroki's neck to his chin before gripping it between his teeth and tugging down, forcing that drooped head back towards him. all so he can claim his mouth once more with another heated, devouring kiss. no more thrusting now. all he can do is rut, rocking his hips on the bathtub floor and stirring his shaft deep inside his boyfriend's ass. oozing precum slathers over his prostate with each grind, filling him up in preparation for what's collecting in the cradle of his pelvis. nothing matters now, nothing but todoroki... todoroki... todorok-!!]

--!! [hard. it came hard. too hard. one moment he's ravaging his boyfriend's mouth, kissing and groaning, panting and gasping, the next second, everything's going white. almost there, almost there, gonna come, gonna come, erupts into there and coming. clinging to him like some possessive monster, he latches onto every available piece of his lover's body. fingers sinking into his shoulder, digging into his sides, knees tenting upward in a trapping V to gather him permanently into his lap in a selfish claim. wants to bite him, fails to do so, only spills his voice into his mouth with the same intensity as his body spills his seed into his lover's. pumping hot and endless inside, coming to the beat of his heart and slam of his core muscles like a fucking bellow squeezing itself dry. balls seize up against todoroki's ass, smooth sac pulled taut over them as he pours everything else out. so damn hot and tight, clamping around him inside as much as outside. "good" doesn't describe this. it's heaven. ecstasy. fucking perfect. bastard, how the hell can he ever think he'd leave him behind? he's staying with him, even if it means branding him in mind and body with himself until todoroki's forgotten where he ends and his boyfriend begins.]

[hairsplit]

( it's a terrifying feeling, the way that his body works without his permission--the way that his legs tighten, loosen, tighten up again, heels skidding against bakugou's body, the way that his arm clutches, long fingers digging into hard muscle, groping only to loosen and grip again. the way that his head lolls, his lips parting, the way that even his voice doesn't feel like it's following any of his commands, panting with open-mouthed breath, hitches and gasps of pleasure with every movement. bakugou keeps gathering him up, tethering him closer, and every inch that he tries to put between them gets eaten up again, impaled on the hot length of bakugou's cock buried so deep inside of him that he's almost embarrassed. that, too, is a feeling that his body won't let him have; sweat drips, beads, bundles up under his bangs, the messy hang of them smeared to his forehead and his temples--his quirk's out of control, the usual temperate, calm heat of his body now gone haywire, overcorrecting and desperate for to provide some kind of release--sweat hisses out to steam, chills to goosebumps, circles around and works again.

because it's too much. it's too much, and not enough at the same time; bakugou drags him in and his body moves like a doll, gathered up easily in the touch, in his grip, molded and fitted to every movement without complaint. it feels like sinking into something dangerous--and is that just because it always felt dangerous? caring for someone, loving someone, it had always seemed like a weakness, had always seemed like something that would end in pain. he doesn't know if his parents even loved each other, or if everything had just been orchestrated to create some picture perfect masterpiece: he doesn't know if it had been love that had taken his brother away, or something else more nefarious. and if he can't understand it, if he's afraid of it, then how can he feel it?

like this, with bakugou's breath over his neck. like this, with his teeth against it, marking him up, drawing up welted bruises that he'll wear with some clumsy, embarrassed pride for the next few days--like this, with bakugou's voice melting into his ear, tumbling right down into his chest and stomach. it would be stupid to not know it; he loves him. he can say it. he's said it. but it's still--

it's overwhelming. his whole body presses into pleasure, and even when his head is lulled back up again with the movement, even when they meet in a desperate kiss, sloppy, wet with sweat and saliva and desire, he feels like his emotions are in a blender: even when he feels bakugou rut inside of him, pumping him full of heat, he feels like his nerve endings are on fire, set ablaze and then flash frozen into shape, like he could laugh or cry or groan with equal enthusiasm, and it would all mean the same thing--that he can't imagine ever loving someone like this, that he can't ever imagine someone other than bakugou like this, claiming him, wanting him, marking him with teeth and tongue and breath and orgasm.

it's a mess, when he comes between them: when his cock jerks, splashes up against his own stomach, when his head bows in and his fingers dig like he might bruise bakugou with the touch; the heat of it dribbles between them, sticky and wet and warm against both their bodies, and his free hand relinquishes the tub edge only to double down around bakugou's neck, clinging to him as he rides him, rides his orgasm until it's blinding, until it hurts, until it feels nearly too sensitive to have his cock trapped between them. boneless, his body curves, slumps in against bakugou, clinging to him like he's the only thing keeping him aware of the moment--his face tucks down, braced to the side of bakugou's neck like he's afraid of what his face might look like; he inhales the scent of him there, clinging despite himself--and lets out a shaky, croaked sort of laugh, muffled against bakugou's skin. )

I can't get up. ( it's mumbled there, soft and almost petulant. ) Not getting up....

( his legs feel like jelly, where they tentatively loosen around bakugou's hips, tension draining out of them; he's boneless but trying so hard to keep clinging to him like he can't let him go. )

[blastedass]

[he should be embarrassed or concerned how much pleasure his orgasm-wracked brain takes from how easily he's able to manhandle his boyfriend's clinging body. lifting and pulling him close, aided by strong legs hooked around his ribs and waist, heels digging into his buttocks and thighs each time todoroki slips an inch. an inch he corrects with tightening hands cupping under his boyfriend's ass and gripping at his shoulder blades until he has him plastered all over his chest. muscles harden, pectorals flex and flatten against each other with nipples flaring up under different temperatures. right side cool, left side warm, perking the nubs into pebbles the more they grind together. he feels like he could move todoroki anywhere, anyhow he wants, so long as the other man refuses to let go of him with anything. arms, legs, mouth, breath, mind, heart. he wants to be surrounded by him and him alone, sunk into bliss of his boyfriend's body. until all doubt is banished from this beautiful man's soul as to how much he cares for him.

teeth skim across his neck, scraping salty lines over cords until he feels him shudder. he drags his whites from the underside of todoroki's jaw to the dip of his clavicle, leaving his skin tender for the following lave of his tongue upward. caressing his path just now taken and loving over the bruises he's left previously. someone's gonna have to flip his collar up tomorrow or wear a scarf. and he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed. they should know, everyone should, that todoroki is loved.

walking into school, he only saw the scar-faced pretty body with a bastard mask of solemnity, looking down on everyone like he was better than them. he saw his power gleaming in towering overwhelming ice, felt for the first time a dread and uncertainty in his chilled chest. that very person... how'd it come to this? with todoroki's head dropped against the tiled wall, his mouth hanging open with blissful pants, every line and detail of his beautiful face glistening in sweat as he traces over each facet he's come to love. kiss-swollen lips, defined pectorals heaving with his gasping air, jaws and cheeks moving with hinting rolls of his tongue behind his bared teeth. this is the boy he's come to love, the one he can pleasure and bring to such a molten state from beneath his usual cool exterior. melting him from the inside out as he pumps the final dregs of his cum into his ass. the best part is feeling how tightly todoroki squeezes him, as if he's swallowing his essence further into himself and refusing to let a drop escape. greedy boy.

fuck, he's going to pass out, he wants to, strung up in the passionate bliss of his boyfriend's body milking his member in desperate strangles, touching all the right places as he ruts up between his cheeks and grinds into his ass. fingers dent his muscle, threatening a painful massage, and molten heat bursts between them, splattering todoroki's chiseled torso with his own seed. he fights through the throes of his own passion to crack his eyes, wanting to watch his lover's orgasmic bliss as he claims him as his, branding his insides with a flood while todoroki spills his own answer all over his skin. clinging to his neck with his hands, riding him with rhythmic squeeze of his legs. until everything finally goes boneless and limp, crashing them into a pool of afterglow. he surges forward, half-falling flush to his chest and head, smashing todoroki between the wall and his body. a knee to the tub, both hands clutching his body and cradling him in his lap. head tilting to the side as a warm face nuzzles and hides in his neck. he feels it burning from here, panting breaths ghosting his skin over and over. until a rattling sex-rasped laugh puffs along the column of his neck.]

No shit... I'm holding you. [he turns his head, find his neck, and peppers his skin with small bites and kisses, not caring to know which time he does when. legs loosen and both hands drop to catch him under thigh and knee, stubbornly holding his boyfriend's limbs around his waist where they should stay. refusing to lose that blissful feeling of todoroki anchoring him as if he's the greatest most valuable treasure in the world.] Fuck, you're ridiculous, Shouto...

[hairsplit]

Mmm. ( it feels like the only agreement he can manage, some small, hummed bliss of amusement in the back of his throat, husky and worn; sure, he doesn't mind being ridiculous. if being ridiculous means that he can be here, wrapped up around bakugou, then he'll be ridiculous. he'll be whatever it is he has to be, to stay here. )

But the tub is...wet.

( this, too, is a ridiculous murmur from somewhere within the crook of bakugou's neck, where he breathes in the scent of him--where he gets distracted, for a moment, taking in the scent of his wet hair, the slight sting of his sweat on his shoulders, on his back, mixing with the splash of the lukewarm bathwater; it would be tempting just to stay here, tempting just to heat up the water himself and sink down into it, tempting to just keep his arms and legs propped up around bakugou like he's a pillow pushed in for sleep. but already, he's losing tension in his legs, despite the way that bakugou palms at him, encourages him to keep his hold; like training, he considers it a challenge, his knees tenting up again, his heels digging in, but he can only keep it for another moment longer before his thighs start to fall apart again, as though he's going to bare himself wide open.

the thought makes him laugh, a little. ridiculous, maybe. there's no inch of him that bakugou hasn't seen, hasn't touched with his lips, or his tongue; that earns a slight shiver, and he realizes that he's going to have to steady his body heat if he wants any hope of trying to wrangle actual thoughts into his head. a slow breath passes, chilled and then tingling up into steam, as he gently lets his head loll back, letting his messy hair hit the back of the porcelain there, like he might just turn his cheek to the edge of the bath and close his eyes for good.

right. but the tub is wet. he was trying to go somewhere, with that; his tongue snakes out, wetting his lips, before he forces his eyes open again. )

We need to clean up and get towels. ( there, that had been the rest of the thought: like this, looking up at bakugou, he can feel himself smiling, and it's so strange to not immediately want to swallow it down; his arms loosen, but that's only so that he can bring one hand up, raking and combing long fingers back through damp blonde strands, brushing it out here and there, away from bakugou's face at random.

his thoughts derail again, but he can't be blamed for it. ) You're handsome.

( that smile stretches again, a little cheeky, like he can't believe he just said it out of nowhere--and he knows precisely what bakugou's reaction will be, but he loves it anyway. there's something so comforting about being able to just be himself without boundaries; normally he's trying to ensure that whatever he says isn't something that's going to be taken the wrong way, or something that will get him into trouble, measuring his understanding of social situations with his understanding of the kind of person that he's expected to be.

bakugou just expects him to be this--himself, a little love drunk, peppered and marked with so many little nips and pulls of teeth and tongue that he'll have to shrug his shoulders up if he wants to hide them at all. maybe he doesn't. does it matter if their friends look at them tomorrow morning and know precisely where they've been? it makes him feel warm in a good way, in his stomach, like a giddy bundle of butterflies. )

[blastedass]

Hn. [can't even form words at the moment? way to stroke his pride, todoroki. feels like every nerve in his damn body is hyper aware of everything right now. lapping water around his legs, heated muscle and skin compressing his dick, thudding heart slamming beneath two strong pectorals so close to his own chest. his body and limbs wrapped around him like a bunch of living ribbon occasionally trying to avoid sliding off. damn...]

Of course it's wet, you dumbass. [what a stupid todoroki thing to say, and don't you dare start getting fuzzy hearted and warm because of it! shitty body. stomp stomp stomp down those happy little thoughts about how cute his boyfriend is and wondering what else he might say if he fucks him out of his mind again. ah damn, he's starting to loosen up. thighs no longer pressing as tightly to his hips, knees easing away from his ribs, feet sliding off their planted state against his knees, even with his hands trying to encourage todoroki's legs to keep right where they are. he doesn't want to lose this feeling yet, growling at himself for being unable to enforce his own will on that hot, clinging body plastered to his own. of course he could tell him, snarl into his ear to hold on... but no snarls come. only a lazy run of his hand along todoroki's thigh backwards towards his knee. all to catch him under the crook and prevent his leg from dropping into the tub too hard. fine. come down. he'll handle it.

sinew flexes and gravity slips downward as he makes the harsh choice of lowering his own body. knees bend and he grunts in annoyance as his cock finally slips free of todoroki's squelching grip with a gentle 'pop' he feels too sharply in his hips. probably leaking a bit of white from his entrance underwater before he closes up. droplets fall from his hair with soft plips into the bath, reminding him they're gonna have to flush the bath afterwards. made a mess inside. it's the risk of a love hotel having a damn bath in the first place. todoroki's head hits the wall with a soft 'thump', baring his throat without thinking about who remains threaded between his legs. meaning he's leaning in and taking his throat's column between his teeth. more a bite than a kiss, hot breath ghosting across a swallow-dipped tube as he runs his tongue across what part's trapped within his jaws. wants to leave a mark, teeth or sucking... buuut he resists and breaks the bite-of-a-kiss before leaning back as he comes to rest on his knees in the tub, todoroki sitting on his lap in a sandwich between solid abs and smooth ceramic wall.]

Don't get bossy with me; you can't even feel your damn legs. [whose fault is that? lips curve in a bare frown, eyes flattening slightly as flexible fingers card through his hair. pushes his bangs away from his forehead and into the normal bed of spikes blown out from his head, leaving his forehead bare and his put-out expression in full view. saying they need to get out of the tub right before he starts playing with his hair. fuck. this bastard's having too much fun for just coming off being completely fucked out! he'll need to wreck him even harder next time.]

Sap. [say such crap. it doesn't do a damn thing. if by "damn thing" he means earns a lean in and lips to his own. kissing him firmly, head tilting in a way nigh instinctive by now. finds their best fit, jaws meeting and teeth opening with lips parting. so comfortable, so many times they've come together like this. it shouldn't affect him so much, hearing todoroki confess such sappy things. but memories of who he was at the start of U.A. eternally remind him of how far his boyfriend's come. how amazing and strong he is. how he's become his own man despite everything he's been through and what was laid on his shoulders. who the fuck wouldn't love such a strong heart blooming into a life he deserved for so long. kissing him feels like a reward, or a gift, and he lets himself be greedy with it for a few long seconds. maybe with a bit of tongue towards the end when he finally breaks it and a strand of saliva stretches between their mouths amid heated breath.

right. they should probably get out of the tub.] Hold onto me. [because he's bracing his legs and feet. heaves upward in a rush of water sloshing and splattering all over the place as it pours off their bodies, crashes back into the tub, making a lewd noise of liquid emergence as he pins todoroki's back to the wall-- yes it's cold in comparison --and slides him up it until he's straight up on both legs. now the other hero can try to get his own limbs down under him and see if they work.] I'm not carrying you outta the damn tub.

[hairsplit]

( none of bakugou's words really connect; they feel like balloons, floating in among his thoughts, like he could take a dart and pop them if he wanted to, but he doesn't. any kind of snarl, any kind of complaint, any playfully-tinged insult won't even really land, and it's not like bakugou's working very hard to be rough and tumble, either: all the edges between them feel so soft, so worn down, that he can't help but smile again. sure, he can't feel his legs, really, until the chill of the water left in the tub starts to lap at his skin a little too much--sure, he's a sap, he's lovedrunk, he's so punched out by bakugou's feeling around him that the disappointment that renders when they finally separate is a starkly different one, a little unhappy despite necessity. that's where reality starts to really sink in: that he'll have to drag himself from the weight of the water in the tub, back to the bed; that he'll have to not let himself fall so deeply into that kiss between them, strung so long that his breath comes out in a steamy pant between them as they break.

he could probably convince bakugou to come back down for another round, but--maybe that's better served for the bed, or even the morning, or even a few hours later.

so he braces his arms around him, feeling that weightlessness of the tub suddenly become the unfortunate downfall of gravity, as he's brought up onto his feet, forced to bear his own weight--the cold against his back helps, has him immediately flaring up with a burst of heat, inside of him, in combative defiance. that, too, helps center his thoughts: though his gaze, mismatched, is roaming over bakugou's features, rather than looking at anything else in the room. )

...I'm not asking to be carried. ( but the glum weight of his voice might say otherwise. ) I can walk.

( or so he thinks, anyway, as he slides his arms away; one elbow clunks back into the wall, bracing against it, and it's a little precarious, stepping out of the tub, but he manages, righting himself firmly on both feet, both hands peeling back through his half-wet hair as though he can piece most of it away from his face. if he can walk, then he can do other things, which means there's a slight, hobbling few steps towards what's left of the clean towels, snaking up one in either hand; rather than pass it off to bakugou, he turns, slightly, to look at him--and throws it out, letting it land on his head, on his shoulders, in his waiting arms, wherever it may land.

the smile on his face is hidden, as he presses his face down into his own towel, lapping up bathwater and a little sweat. )

Go get into bed, I'll take care of the bath. ( as the towel comes down, pressed along his chest, down between his legs, along his thighs, and then he straightens up so that he can wrap it, wayward, around his hips, trying with numb, tired hands to tuck it in to stay. he doesn't necessarily need the modesty, but with his thoughts, and his head, coming back down to earth, he does feel a little bashful about bending over the tub to slosh some water in it and then drain it out entirely. )

Maybe you can turn on some lights or something. ( who knows, with the way this place is laid out: but it's the kind of thing he'd like to do, just wander around pressing buttons, looking for reactions, learning how things work as though they'll be back here again, someday. maybe they will. )

[blastedass]

[does he want to get out? no. if it weren't so illogical, he'd stay in this tub until the morning, snug with todoroki in his lap, arms and legs wrapped around each other in a tangled knot of limbs and pleasure. chasing after the blissful feeling without wanting it to end. he knows it must, and they have to move, but damn does it feel wretched to separate from him. a punch to his gut as he slips free from his boyfriend's body, knowing he's gaping for a few seconds until his body realizes nothing's coming back in. not for now at least. water sluices down their figures, pouring from chest to stomach to hips to legs, arms sloppy with glistening coating as it drips from their fingers. could've carried todoroki out of the tub himself and slogged off into the room with his soaked beau clung to his shoulders and chest like a water-logged koala. great idea, until he slips and brings them both down on the floor. tch, strike that. guess they have to handle the struggles of separation once his legs manage to plug back into his sex-fogged brain. lips break in another strand of decision, ghosting hot breath across his boyfriend's mouth as he finally leans back enough to put a sliver of distance between their bodies.

shit. can't stop a small twitch of his lips upward at the corner, a faint "heh" puffing free as todoroki flares heat from his body to counter a frigid wet wall on his back. surprising, huh. the guy who's not usually bothered by any kind of temperature suddenly feeling too cold. might be defiant in his boyfriend's mind, but he finds it stupidly cute. a stubborn guy wanting to remain as comfortable as he can while he gets his legs back beneath him. head ducked slightly, their positions giving the taller young man an even greater height advantage until he feels like sliding back down onto his heels. not fucking fair, damn half-n-half giant. unfazed, he grins up at him, enjoying the fleeting moment.]

You're clinging to me like a pouting octopus. [zero warning as he bites todoroki on his cheek, a light grip for no reason other than enjoying his momentary petulance. as if permission to finally move is given, he steps back, fully releasing the other guy from his arms and steps out of the tub with him. water sloshes over the side, following his heel one at a time until he's on the rug covering their tiled floor before the bath. remember that head cracking risk? confident his boyfriend's walking without him (minus a hobble limb, which he views with pride) he turns to the bath and fishes around within its depths for a swift dive and pull of the plug. metal clanks and telltale flowing water pours muted up through the pool. let that drain before he cleans it in the morni-]

Ngh? [white flops over his head, earning a jolt from his arms and back. the he-?! guh!! bastard just threw a towel at him! he slaps his hand atop his head and pulls the entire thing off with a scowl, hair sticking up in assorted direction from its usual explosive spikes. brat.] I already unplugged it. You can clean it in the morning.

[if he wants the duty so badly. beat you to it anyways, icyhot. scuffing his hair with the towel, he sops water from it as much as possible, then begins on his face, rubbing at his eyes and cheeks before tucking it beneath his jaw and licking around his throat to his collarbones. really should be a fucking accusation about watching todoroki dry himself off. his stupid towel's going everywhere he wants his hands, mouth, and more going instead. contours of his strong chest, outlines of his stomach, hooking between his thighs and rubbing under his arms. all ending in a white-wrapped toga about his waist. yeah well, he's doing similar, but deliberately knotting his tantalizingly low slung on his hips. enough to see the dipping v lines of his pelvis diving below the terrycloth rim.] You're the one who likes pushing buttons; get out there and see what turns on what.

[hopefully nothing too kinky will hit him in his precocious face.]

[hairsplit]

( with the towel secure, he feels a little more confident, turning back to face bakugou again--but his shoulders slump, his chest deflates, and his mouth threatens to fit into one slender line of a pout until he stops himself. his gaze goes to the tub, then back to bakugou, and then to the tub again; it's true, he beat him to it, and now he's mad about it. well, mad in the sense that he's giving bakugou a pointed stare of puffed up disappointment; and then, with a playfully jagged roll of his eyes, he turns away again. if he can will himself out of the bed in the morning, he'll see about tidying up the bathroom as a whole before they leave--and maybe making some coffee, or whatever else might exist in this tiny little suite of a room, to bring it into bed.

it's hard enough to put his back to bakugou--it's harder still, thinking of how good he looked, how that towel had slung purposefully low, almost comical compared to the way that he's neatly knotted his own up to cover as much as possible.

still, it counts for something. bakugou doesn't get to the see the way that he runs his hand over his own face like he's trying to smooth out his expression; he doesn't get to see the way his tongue laps over his lower lip, the way his teeth pinch there like he can force himself to forget the feeling of them locked into a kiss together. self control is something that he has in spades; it just feels nearly impossible when all the sense has been literally fucked out of him, when all he wants to do is slink back to bakugou's front and dip his hands down the front of that towel.

buttons, instead. he's looking for buttons. it repeats in his head like a neat little mantra, forcing his feet to move, to carry him in a daze out of the bathroom door--and back towards the bed, though his hand reaches, outstretched, to feel over the wallpaper along the way, stopping himself neatly when his fingertips connect not with plaster but with smooth plastic. a small little console of switches.

his knuckles bend in against the first: which has the room plunged into darkness, making him choke on a soft, breathy laugh, embarrassed, before he gropes for the next switch. rather than flood the room with light, again, it starts with a slow fade in of multicolor LEDs, a rainbow of colors across the rim of the ceiling, which he watches only for a moment, both confused and amused. it makes the red hair, sloping down his temples, wet and shadowed, the color seeming to change with each fade in and fade out of the rainbow. )

...This doesn't feel right. ( to himself, amused, before he turns it off and hits the next switch--which appears to cloak the room in darkness, again, except that when his gaze goes towards the ceiling above the bed, he can see it peppered out with tiny little blinking lights, as though looking up at a starry sky.

pointed, he leaves it there--and pursues the edge of the bed again, feeling for it with a hand once he gets there to sit on the edge. )

Ba-- ( he starts, stops--his lips fit into a clumsy smile, feeling warm all over. ) Katsuki. We're camping, now.

[blastedass]

[a pouting face. droopy shoulders. sunken chest. and his own expression warps into a shitty little grin to combat. lips corner hook upward, one eye lidded more with his angled brows set in a smug slant. looks so damn proud of himself for besting his boyfriend in the dutiful race. now todoroki's annoyed because he wanted to be the one to pop the plug. goddammit, who the hell gave him permission to be this cute? his chest warms like a damn hearth beneath his beau's disappointed teal-and-slate glare. sucks you came in second place again, huh, half-n-half.]

Guess we're gonna have to get another later. [he'll let todoroki pull the plug on their do over. ignorant his boyfriend intends to clean the entire bathroom like some live-in maid bumped from one piece of duty. question is whether he'll wake ahead of time enough to pull off such a feat. then again... he's planning on sleeping in. no alarms. only a warm body beneath one arm. or cool, depending on which side of todoroki he sleeps on. good luck slipping out from under his embrace without waking him.

... holy shit. todoroki turns away, puts his back o him, and all he can do is stand there like a moron struck dumb. staring. broad shoulders and narrow hips in perfect ratio, fair skin still beading in places with lickable dampness, angled shoulder blades mapping defined muscles like a damn underwear model, funneling down to a shitty towel suddenly very much too in his fucking way. can they go back to the bath? fuck, the shower? where he can put his aching tongue to todoroki's pulse and trace a path from clavicle to jaw... it'd be better than his sharp enamel digging into his wet muscles instead, half-biting his tongue to keep it from jumping out of his mouth. goddammit have some self control! why the fuck does he need self control around his boyfriend?! he's so damn tempted to pin him front-first to whatever closest surface wants to be debased next.

his heel leaves the floor, toes indenting the bathroom rug with a damp trail of droplets in his wake. following todoroki out into the room, eyes failing any attempt at wandering on furniture, appliance, suggestive decorations. nothing here captures his attention save for a single strong figure paused by the wall. fingertips touching wallpaper when they should be in a five-point splay across his chest mapping out his heartbeats.

*click* ] Don't turn out the fucking lights! [what do you think he is, a bat?! he pauses midstep, not wanting to slam his foot into something, only continuing forward when lights bloom into color. mood lighting. a mixture of hues casting the room into kaleidoscope from top down and changing todoroki's hair into a flipping color chart of red and white. crimson, magenta, scarlet, purple, sage, brown orange, on one side, prismatic on the other, both matching his nape from behind. if he ever wondered what a lion felt while stalking prey, he doesn't have to anymore.]

You're such a little kid. [heated words husk along todoroki's ear shell as he captures him from behind. closed the space while his boyfriend felt up the bed. he touches his fingers to his boyfriend's chest, caressing one pectoral on the path from left to right. his other hand takes hold of his waist, embracing him in a possessive, loving wrap buckled about his pelvis from one side to the other. has to go up on his toes thank to someone's extra damn inches in height, but he gets his ear where he wants it: in his mouth. nipping, sucking, licking, bullying in a gentle capture beneath todoroki's chosen starry sky. skin melds to skin as he slots himself perfectly against his lover's back, following the contour of his spine with his chest and stomach.] Shouto... You better not be planning to sleep tonight. I'm gonna fuck every thought out of your head but me.

[hairsplit]

( he wants to blame it on those lights--as though the steady blink of them, pattering above on the ceiling, could steal his attention enough not to notice, but the truth is that he doesn't expect bakugou to slide in at his back because he's not thinking of it, because most of the time, they orbit around each other like magnets of the same pole, unable to crash in without some fissure of tension. he expects to see the broad expanse of bakugou's chest from across the mattress, too far to touch; he expects his own knees to bend, to give into the pressure to climb up onto the bed and cross the space himself, because bakugou's towel is too low-slung to be asking for anything else, because he still wants him just as badly as he wanted him twenty minutes ago, flush in the lukewarm bath water, because this is a room that practically begs for sex in as many places as possible.

but there's a warmth at his back, the shape of hips against his ass, against the towel, pressure at his thighs--an arm that wraps itself up around his middle while the other gropes over his chest, and he forgets the lights, forgets the fake stars, forgets the idea of splaying himself across the bed on his back to look up at them and make up silly constellations. bakugou's voice is hot in his ear, enough that he can feel a flush spread, eager, across his own skin, too quick to be chased off by the regulating power of his quirk.

his throat bobs with a swallow: it isn't nervous, but the anticipation feels like lightning, his nerves sparking with interest, and even just the warm, steady, demanding curl of bakugou's voice in his ear makes his cock feel heavy, an embarrassed twitch beneath the towel. )

You don't think you did that already? ( half-wondering, half-teasing, but he's not complaining. )

I'm only thinking about you.

( --which is why one of his hands drops, slides, drifts cool fingertips over bakugou's wrist so that he can reach for the front of his own towel, tugging at it, wrenching it with a firm grip to undo the neat little tuck he'd put in earlier. it dips, splits apart, gathers up in his hands so that he can drop it to the floor, where it lands between his heels; there's still enough light for bakugou to look at him, which is why his skin prickles with embarrassment--both hands reach for the bed, but it's more so that he can slide his palms down to his forearms, bracing his weight there.

his back cranes, bent over the edge of the mattress: his hips press back into bakugou's still, bare, arching up onto his toes just slightly before settling back onto his heels to spread his thighs further apart--a bold, almost bashful sort of offer. )

Fuck me anyway. ( softly, his voice almost matter-of-fact in its teasing. ) Katsuki.

[blastedass]

[blame it on the lights and he'll sink his teeth so far into shouto's nape, he'll taste his spinal cord. so many ways could've seen them come together in this prismatic dim light show. leisurely approaching across the bed with sheets denting around each placement of his knees and palms, red eyes smoldering in come hither beckoning at the man too damn far from his touch. lounging on his back after a casual fling atop the mattress, hands behind his head and legs brazenly shoulder-width apart as he bares everything to his boyfriend's stupor and waits for shouto's prowling draw. hooking a foot in front of smooth-boned shins as one hand captures a supple upper back with a finger-spread press to encourage an "accidental" trip onto the bed, fair-skinned legs and still-damp muscles flailing for a second as he twists around on his back to huff in confusion arousal mixed. it could've been...

yet he chose this possessive claim, digit tips digging into his lover's pectorals as if he can reach the throbbing heart pounding below, powerful torso slotted up flush to his spine as his body melds with the man he love's. chest muscles squished momentarily to shouto's wing bones, chiseled abdominal wall trying to fit his back's diamond in a curved puzzle piece. warm and damp, strong and limber, all flesh and real, and every part of him his in this den of amorous sensation and gaudy tacky perversion. blocked temporarily by terrycloth shields. fucking annoying. he'll handle that, after his nails stop taking wandering explorations over shouto's stomach, traipsing between each ab groove and circling his shallow navel crater. lips on his ear, eyes behind his profile, yet he knows blood's rushing to his scarred visage, blooming hot along his cheekbones and turning his nose bridge rosy pink. no ice is taking it away. two years ago, he never would've thought this man capable of even a hint of heat on his face. now, he feels him heating up against his body in ways that have nothing to do with shouto's quirk.]

Haa... [feels as if he's expelling steam from his lungs, hot across his ear before lips take descending path. nipping at his earlobe, dropping to the back of his jaw where it curves, to the slope of his neck as cords pull tight in a telltale manner of swallowing. anticipation quivers under his flesh, setting his nerves aflame with desire and burning his lips with each kiss branded into shouto's skin.] You're real cute when you talk back, baka. [damn, this bastard's setting his heart into rapid chasing. his pulse picks up and surges blood hot through his veins beneath several cool points of touch, fingers extending to "drop" his boyfriend's hand downward into the blocking cloth. husks give way to a flap as shouto pulls his towel free, parting around his gloriously naked body. pelvic v freed, his cock exposed to the room's air, pert buttocks exposed in tempting display as he eagerly presses his own groin to twin mounds of toned muscle. why the hell would he look anywhere else?]

What're you embarrassed about? Something you don't want me to see? [taunting because he knows why. shouto moves and he's already following, one hand taking half a second to rip his own towel from his waist in a flurry. muscles ripple as a knee bends towards the floor, toes curled backwards beneath the balls of his foot as he goes down on one knee behind his boyfriend. forever branding the image of his flexing back and lats hardening around his spine. hands no more on his chest, but rather took a trip down his ribs and worshiping descent along toned obliques, until he's resting tough-skinned palms on the other hero's narrow hips. his face directly opposite his boyfriend's presented rump. fingers splay along either side of his cheeks, cupping both mounds in his palms as his thumbs and hand heels press into his skin and pull apart. spreading him open and revealing the wrinkled star between.] Don't order me around, Shouto.

[murmured than ordered, burning the inside of his skin with his breath closing in on his flesh. hot air, a single strand of saliva snapping as he extends his tongue and runs the length of it up his boyfriend's crack. long, languid, deliberate, mouth open and head tilted in a brazen carelessness with each laving pass from the back of his dangling balls to the crevasse of his cheeks and runs the tip over shouto's hole time and time again.] Don't hold your voice back.