👿 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]

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.