👿 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]

[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.