[freedom should be absolute. chaos and anarchy being the result, but hey, who's he to care? telling people they can't use their own natural gifts simply because the weaker people bitch about it is bullshit. life's not fair or equal. either get strong or smart enough to do something about the oppressors or shut the hell up and die for the strong. it's a cruel world out there and dabi's already spent plenty of time getting chewed up in its mouth. pretty fun to do some chewing back.
maybe he'll just cash out and bury his fortune under the corner of their estate like a miser. then go right back to doing what he's doing now. wasn't a lie when he told endeavor he wasn't interested in money. it's not hard to come by when you don't follow the rules set to keep it safe. (oh sure, give him money so he can rot in jail; that's quite the sacrifice on your part, dad.)
no surprise to him that endeavor can manage to compartmentalize the dichotomy between dabi and touya and whether each is responsible for the actions of the other, past and present. to care for his son. to hate the villain. it's not like endeavor himself had easily ignored what he was doing to his family for the sake of ambition. dabi's picked up that trait from his father as well, focusing on the long-term goal with heedless care of whatever he destroys in his path towards it. something else enji can be proud of him for.
however, who knows if he's proud of him for this... can he truly separate himself from the reality that he's pressing his own adult son to the wall, that they're both naked in the shower with some very intense ust quickly catching aflame between them? dabi finds the entire notion a taboo thrill, revulsion and excitement mingling behind his stoic smirk. this'll make him feel fucking filthy, but so damn good at the same time. kind of like drugs and cigarettes and alcohol and all the other messed up shit he's done in his life. what's one more tossed into the cesspool? touya always did want his father's attention.
how much closer to him can he get than this? ... something about that thought snaps another chord inside him and he slaps a hand up against the side of endeavor's face, eyes burning a little wider and brighter with heated arousal and maniacal interest. there's no way he's going to stop now, breath coming hot on his lips he seizes onto that realization. it's sick, disturbing, and reaches into an area he never wants to go back to, but holy fuck is it an exhilarating thought.]
I put up with the pain for you. But now, the only way I get to "feel" is to make sure it really burns.
[masochist. he's more a sadist than a masochist, but that's not saying is isn't one. these staples and piercings aren't just for holding his ruined flesh onto his body. the demarcation lines between healthy skin and charred remains are where nerve ends meet. sinking hooks and spikes through them at least help him have a sensation of something other than the numb and itch. same goes with the rougher treatment. only rare times do those lighter touches do anything for him.
larger hands wander over his legs and as dabi spreads his fingers on the side of endeavor's head, he answers that encouragement, wrapping his lankly limbs around the man's sculpted hips. wiry muscle flexes under scar tissue and smoother flesh, the scrape of metal staples skimming against the man's pelvis and the top of his ass as dabi knots his ankles together at the small of the hero's back. locking him in there with him. maybe he shouldn't have talked about other villains finding endeavor attractive either... but then again, this isn't a bad way to enjoy the time together. not when he's confronted with stacks of muscles that profess healthy dieting and steady workout alongside the damn dosage of proud genes.]
That's ya area of expertise.
[not that dabi's frequently letting people close to him either. he might be a bit more lax about people he knows getting into his space if he's in the mood, but generally he likes his space. he's well aware this is probably an infrequent thing for endeavor and that'd be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic. actually... it's pretty hilarious too.]
We got different definitions of "wholesome quality time", huh-
[the last part terminates in a grunt when endeavor suddenly thrusts forward. wet makes it easy to move and he tightens his legs on him, free hand pressing to the wall with a sudden slap as skin slides across his own. oh yeah... much better. he might not be able to feel much in most places, but his dick and ass work just fine. thank fucking god for that. as endeavor turns his head into his hand, he finds himself with his fingers and palm spreading over the side of his scar. that half of his face he ripped off with his pawns. touch of pride for messing him up like that... shame he didn't get a chance to take his eye.
fingers wander down the side of endeavor's head, tracing across his temple and the seam of his scar before wandering into the messed-up area. touching the textured flesh and scant reappearance of his eyebrow, thumbing just under the lower lid of his eye. down further, playing at the jagged rip as it begins to shrink and decrease into the point of his torn-off visage. a single tap of his index finger notes the scar and dismisses it as he heads for the slight stubble dusting at endeavor's jaw and chin. all the way down until he could play the tip of his middle finger across the rims of his mouth. even his lips are strong. probably from that nigh-permanent scary look on his face.
Whaddya know. We fit together. [eroticism and insanity mingle in his expression as he leans closer to endeavor's face, taking his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. and deliberately locking his legs together again.] Ya ain't done this with any of them... It's just us...
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Date: 12/8/21 20:39 (UTC)maybe he'll just cash out and bury his fortune under the corner of their estate like a miser. then go right back to doing what he's doing now. wasn't a lie when he told endeavor he wasn't interested in money. it's not hard to come by when you don't follow the rules set to keep it safe. (oh sure, give him money so he can rot in jail; that's quite the sacrifice on your part, dad.)
no surprise to him that endeavor can manage to compartmentalize the dichotomy between dabi and touya and whether each is responsible for the actions of the other, past and present. to care for his son. to hate the villain. it's not like endeavor himself had easily ignored what he was doing to his family for the sake of ambition. dabi's picked up that trait from his father as well, focusing on the long-term goal with heedless care of whatever he destroys in his path towards it. something else enji can be proud of him for.
however, who knows if he's proud of him for this... can he truly separate himself from the reality that he's pressing his own adult son to the wall, that they're both naked in the shower with some very intense ust quickly catching aflame between them? dabi finds the entire notion a taboo thrill, revulsion and excitement mingling behind his stoic smirk. this'll make him feel fucking filthy, but so damn good at the same time. kind of like drugs and cigarettes and alcohol and all the other messed up shit he's done in his life. what's one more tossed into the cesspool? touya always did want his father's attention.
how much closer to him can he get than this? ... something about that thought snaps another chord inside him and he slaps a hand up against the side of endeavor's face, eyes burning a little wider and brighter with heated arousal and maniacal interest. there's no way he's going to stop now, breath coming hot on his lips he seizes onto that realization. it's sick, disturbing, and reaches into an area he never wants to go back to, but holy fuck is it an exhilarating thought.]
I put up with the pain for you. But now, the only way I get to "feel" is to make sure it really burns.
[masochist. he's more a sadist than a masochist, but that's not saying is isn't one. these staples and piercings aren't just for holding his ruined flesh onto his body. the demarcation lines between healthy skin and charred remains are where nerve ends meet. sinking hooks and spikes through them at least help him have a sensation of something other than the numb and itch. same goes with the rougher treatment. only rare times do those lighter touches do anything for him.
larger hands wander over his legs and as dabi spreads his fingers on the side of endeavor's head, he answers that encouragement, wrapping his lankly limbs around the man's sculpted hips. wiry muscle flexes under scar tissue and smoother flesh, the scrape of metal staples skimming against the man's pelvis and the top of his ass as dabi knots his ankles together at the small of the hero's back. locking him in there with him. maybe he shouldn't have talked about other villains finding endeavor attractive either... but then again, this isn't a bad way to enjoy the time together. not when he's confronted with stacks of muscles that profess healthy dieting and steady workout alongside the damn dosage of proud genes.]
That's ya area of expertise.
[not that dabi's frequently letting people close to him either. he might be a bit more lax about people he knows getting into his space if he's in the mood, but generally he likes his space. he's well aware this is probably an infrequent thing for endeavor and that'd be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic. actually... it's pretty hilarious too.]
We got different definitions of "wholesome quality time", huh-
[the last part terminates in a grunt when endeavor suddenly thrusts forward. wet makes it easy to move and he tightens his legs on him, free hand pressing to the wall with a sudden slap as skin slides across his own. oh yeah... much better. he might not be able to feel much in most places, but his dick and ass work just fine. thank fucking god for that. as endeavor turns his head into his hand, he finds himself with his fingers and palm spreading over the side of his scar. that half of his face he ripped off with his pawns. touch of pride for messing him up like that... shame he didn't get a chance to take his eye.
fingers wander down the side of endeavor's head, tracing across his temple and the seam of his scar before wandering into the messed-up area. touching the textured flesh and scant reappearance of his eyebrow, thumbing just under the lower lid of his eye. down further, playing at the jagged rip as it begins to shrink and decrease into the point of his torn-off visage. a single tap of his index finger notes the scar and dismisses it as he heads for the slight stubble dusting at endeavor's jaw and chin. all the way down until he could play the tip of his middle finger across the rims of his mouth. even his lips are strong. probably from that nigh-permanent scary look on his face.
Whaddya know. We fit together. [eroticism and insanity mingle in his expression as he leans closer to endeavor's face, taking his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. and deliberately locking his legs together again.] Ya ain't done this with any of them... It's just us...