[weeks? days? hours? no clue. only one moment he's there... and the next... bedding. sheets. warmth. softness beneath him, bunched around his shoulders and limbs. fuck, pain. seconds wrench into eternity, one hand clenching into material. a ceiling vaguely familiar, the scent of something... someone... wrapping around his head. bringing with it a flood of memories and splits his head into throbbing pieces. a city. raging monsters. the hell? an organization. a building. where? faces flash by. people he knows he should recognize. you again? this place, this world, he had- ... no! fuck no! a desert. a worm. a forest. a castle. not again! no! he doesn't- ... he had a life here. he had people he cared about. but his world, his life, his home. don't- ... don't! NO!
i'm back.
fingers ease out of their death-dealing crush and he slowly lets himself come down from a rushing heart. instantly cringing in pain and gripping at his chest. fuck! ... right. slowly he pulls himself up, breathing easier amid his pounding head. his life here. lilith. the outsiders. denji. his boyfriend. that's whose scent clung to him in a comforting embrace. god, feels like someone crammed a book in his head. resting his forehead on his hand, he gives himself a few minutes of adjusting before lifting his head. right. nothing he can do about it.
the room's a fucking mess... how long has it been? morning.
denji. god, the half-devil's probably gone fucking mad. where's his phon- ... oh right. the other headache.]
denji. hey. stop raising hell. i'm in your room.
[and looking... different, body sporting a collection of new and oldscars, his right arm hanging by his side looking a complete wreck.]
it's not like bakugou didn't wiggle his way out of the strong embrace many times before, whether he had to use the bathroom, leave on an early jog, or he decided he had enough wasting the morning and would rather be productive— for whatever reason, denji always felt the slight shift and shuffle, and he would always, always force one eye open to check on his partner. this time, as he followed an old routine, he peered through his tired lids, only to find no one around. he woke to silence. the kind that wasn’t peaceful, wasn’t soft, but hollow. a void where something should have been. instinctively, his hand reached across the bed, searching for warmth, for presence— for him. but all he found were cold sheets, untouched, undisturbed ... as if bakugou had never been there at all.
dread and utter fear begin to settle in. denji's fingers curled into the emptiness beside him, gripping at nothing, trying to find proof that bakugou had been there. that this wasn’t real. that this wasn’t happening. this can't be happening! a deep, sinking chill spread through his chest as he threw the blankets aside and bolted for the door. his pulse pounded against his ribs, panic creeping up his throat, drowning out reason, drowning out everything but the need to find bakugou. the first victims happened to be aki and tsurumaru, blissfully sleeping in their room, unaware of the chaos coming their way. they didn't have an answer. raidou's next— he's bakugou's friend, right? best buddy. he should know something. the poor guy was up for a rude awakening, but he also had no answers. who's next? yuuji. vash. any other everlight who managed to answer his rapid knocking on their door. denji pushed forward, turning sharp corners, scanning every room, every shadow, expecting— no, praying— to catch a glimpse of him. a flicker of movement, a sliver of hope. but all he found were empty spaces where bakugou should have been.
the air in his lungs turned thin, tight.
this wasn’t right.
this couldn’t be right.
the hours felt like days, even weeks. it was so easy to slip into an ugly mindset, desperate to escape a pain that's fate to consume him. it's unbearable. suffocating. and then— he got the text. his legs moved before his brain could catch up, shoving past furniture and bolting down the hall at full speed. the walls blurred around him, and his breath tore through his throat. denji's heartbeats roared in his ears as he shoved the door with enough force that it slammed against the wall, barely registering the sound, barely registering anything beyond the fact that his boyfriend was there. real. living and breathing. ] Katsuki ... !! [ yeah, he noticed immediately. the way the hero was sitting, stiff and too still, shoulders slightly hunched as if bracing for something. the morning light behind the sealed curtains cast shadows along bakugou's skin, but not enough to hide the fresh marks carved across. denji's eyes locked onto his arm first. the way it rested too carefully in his lap, fingers curled but tense. the bruising, dark and violent, creeping along his forearm. the scars are another story. how did— .... when did he get all of this?!! denji didn't know where to look. some healing, some raw. some thin, some deep.
it's not right. he's not okay ... ]
........ what happened?
[ there are ten other questions lined up and ready to bust out of him, but denji bites them back. breathe. breathe. breathe ... ]
[in the middling moments between sending the text and denji crashing through the door like hell on earth, katsuki took the time to gather himself and put his damn brain back on track. memories pounded in his gray matter, yet he elbowed and jostled them aside to move forward. get a time, get a date, ground himself. ocular accessed, calendar... fuck, it's "tomorrow" - the morning after he went to sleep last night. so sometime during the moonlit hours, he'd vanished. returned home. that's what happened. denji's likely been up the entire time, freaking out and panicking over katsuki's disappearance. he rubs at his hairline, scrunching his choppy bangs in his fist. shit... his boyfriend's gonna be a wreck. after what happened in november, kicking up all that trauma once more-
BAM!
there goes the door. katsuki looks up to hall light streaming in, momentarily outlining denji's figure in a darkened silhouette, one arm flung out and body hunched slightly with his chest heaving in and out. this guy. relief and heat flood through his chest, sappy nostalgia and a seed of guilt nestling in the sticky gore of his fucked-up-but-repaired organs. denji's eyes snap and jerk, going from one place to the next, trying to put reality back into his mind after spinning wildly for hours. yeah, time for some fucking damage control.]
Looks like I went home. [to answer that right off the bat. katsuki lifts his good arm towards denji.] I'm back, Denji. It's me. [a few tiny sparks snap and pop around his hand, offering it in some further proof he's alive and present, not some illusion or dream or recording.]
guess its time to use the tracker rings even when baku needs to leave to piss
[ and ... the blood. okay, he'd seen bakugou covered in blood many times during missions, and it mostly belonged to the unfortunate kaiju or the aftermath of assisting the injured civilians into a safe spot— and at times, it was his own, but today is different. as much as he didn't think of it this way, but it didn't seem like the hero returned from a winning battle ... whatever blood tainting his battered suit is probably bakugou's. his face, once so familiar and warm, was drawn and exhausted, streaked with dried blood and shadows of pain, telling stories he hadn’t been there to witness. denji's hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. anger flared, hot, and blinding. who had done this? how had it come to this? but just as quickly, the anger collapsed beneath a wave of helplessness, fear wrapping around his chest like a vice. even if he couldn't recognize the expression on his boyfriend's face, denji was familiar with this kind of sight— watching another loved one in pain. he squeezed his eyes shut, breathe, breathe, breathe ...
slowly, hesitantly - he approached the other, kneeled down before him, glancing up and meeting bakugou's gaze. of course denji is a mess. of course he looked like he was crying the entire time, and he sure was. his eyes, red and swollen, held the weight of too many tears shed in too little time. the delicate skin beneath them was darkened and bruised with fatigue, the kind that sleep wouldn’t fix. his lashes, still damp, clumped together. his lips, trembling and chapped from uneven breaths, pressed together as if trying to hold in whatever was left of his shattered composure. until he had to speak- ] Were you fighting alone?!!
[ look- denji knows it's a war, shit happens, but what the fuck?! it's like bakugou was fighting all the dangerous guys with zero support. all alone! he cussed, shaking his head. fuck, this is not the time. ] A-Are you still bleeding? Let me take you to the doctor right now!
[there's... at least some good news when denji approaches him. nightmares and horrid expectations mingle with shadows in a room where curtained windows let in only a bare sliver of light. expectations and dread play tricks on the mind and his boyfriend's panicked state makes for easy prey to that. meaning once the other boy begins to approach him and shadows give way to light as denji's body stops blocking the hall light, katsuki's physical state comes through hopefully clearer.
the "blood" on his body reveals itself to be little more than shadows from where he'd been facing. unlike the first time, he hasn't been pulled from the middle of the war with his body a ravaged mess still oozing blood and gore. instead, a week or two has passed from the battle's end. it looks more like he's been in the middle of his wounds being redressed. the garish burst in the middle of his chest still sports fresh staples and stitches from where his exploded torso had been frantically sewn up by his panicking mentor and ultimately reforged by the pro hero willing to give his life in exchange for katsuki's. his right arm's a mess, with sutures and staples and bio-glue holding on layers of flesh, restructuring his bone, tying together sinew and tendons, one thing on top of another to miraculously manage to keep his arm's shape. cheek stitched shut from where it'd been torn open. but for all that, katsuki's not dripping his life onto the bed or even looking like he's in pain. well, asides from a splitting headache from having his two lives' memories smashing together.
sorry to give you a heart attack, denji, but yeah, it's been several days since the war ended when katsuki was brought back. he's in recovery mode, enough to even return back to u.a. (even if some of his friend think he should still be in the hospital.)
he reaches up with his left arm, the right one remaining still and suspiciously immobile beside him, and rests his hand on the side of denji's face. touching his cheek, feeling the warmth of his flesh, the very real tangible evidence his boyfriend is here in front of him, alive and well. puffy red eyes, tear-stained face, lips bitten and worried, bruises on his nose bridge from where he'd scrunched his brows far too much over the past several hours. denji's gonna crash hard whenever all this shit catches up to him. katsuki silently resigns himself to staying beside his boyfriend for the next few days. honestly, he's gonna need it.
but those words, panted out in surprise, desperation, accusation... red eyes narrow and he immediately fixes denji's brain with a serious-toned rejection.] No. I never would've been able to beat him on my own. Everyone was there... We won.
[he refuses to let denji believe katsuki's allies, classmates, friends, the other heroes, abandoned him to fight alone. for as much as he did, katsuki's well aware he basically stepped in at the end and bought the last two minutes needed or victory, after a hundred other heroes were brutalized over the past several hours on the path towards it. each one giving their all to buy just even a few more seconds.]
I'm okay, Denji. [he's not okay entirely.] The war's been over for about two weeks.
[ right— it's not actual blood, and there is a very brief second of relief there, one that didn't linger for too long. as the hand reached up to feel his cheek, denji's stare didn't waver, anxiously focused on that arm of his, aware those little doubts were becoming a reality with every beat. it was hard not to be bitter about those classmates of his because why the fuck is bakugou like this? why is he this injured? and his arm - it's not moving. he's not moving it. considering the nature of his quirk, did that mean the end of his career as a hero? the end of his dream? everything bakugou worked hard for is stripped away from him? even when the war is over, and all those civilians are saved, victory to hero society and all that ... it didn't need to be at the expense of that boy. it's senseless, if not borderline cruel, of denji to be thinking this way, seething with animosity on how it all turned out, selfish enough that he wished this upon someone else and not his bakugou. those reflections are something he's not proud of— it made him feel gross, breeding his self-hate, but he also didn't care enough to wear the righteous attitude and be 'the bigger person' here. he's mad. he's fucking mad. why bakugou?
why him? ]
... You're not okay. [ despite his feelings, his tone came out a lot softer, calmer, and undoubtedly loving. if there are changes within him, whether they will alter his perspective about certain matters or not, one thing is for sure— he will always love that boy. he's more important than all the growing conflicts inside of him, and even if he was fuming from within, none of it would reach the surface when he speaks to the other. ] You probably won't be okay for a while, too. But ... I'll take care of you.
[ it's his turn to care for the other, and he won't start it by spitting fire in his boyfriend's direction. he wouldn't scream 'Why?!!' and demand how that all happened when his tantrum wouldn't change the outcome. if anything— it would probably upset bakugou instead. again, breathe. shifting closer, he carefully unbuttoned the other's top, just enough to check on the wounds underneath. the old bandages, once white, were now stained with dried blood, clinging stubbornly to the somewhat healing yet wounded flesh beneath. no, bakugou didn't appear to be neglected; they were wrapped professionally, but perhaps ... he got dragged back in here before someone could change them. even behind the covering, denji can see the scars carved into his skin too deep, fated to shadow bakugou for the rest of his life.
denji looked sick, not out of disgust, but just sheer sorrow. he's quiet, slowly tilting his head as he inspects the other dark bruises and markings around his lover's body. ] ... and your arm? [ had to let that one out, preparing himself for the worse. he can't predict his own reaction to this one, which is a dangerous gamble. ]
and he is taking that knowledge extremely seriously
[let him look. let him see. he doesn't allow the hand on denji's face to stop his boyfriend's pretty eyes from running panic all over his upper body. jerking from one place to the next, incredulous, angry, pained, grieving, confuse. so many questions, so much to tell him so denji understands everything that happened. but not right now. his furrowed brows and scrambling gaze all but evidence those once-flushed ears of his won't hear a damn thing he says. he brushes a thumb across denji's cheek again, wondering what sorts of ideas and feelings are whirling about his mind. likely a bunch of jumped-to conclusions and emotionally-charged verdicts without knowing the entire story. a sigh escapes his lips. guess he'll be doing some mental knot de-tangling later on.]
I'm not dead. [he'll let him have the gentle chiding about being "okay" because he's obviously not. the wounds are still healing, his arm's obviously not functional, and katsuki looks tired compared to his usual state. but compared to others who made it through the war with amputations, horrific scars, and even lost or irreparably damaged quirks, he's... made it out alive. he can't say the same for some. hearing denji's voice, the love and affection inside, grips at his chest in a warm and painful way. how much he missed his voice, even if he didn't remember it in his mind. he thumbs over the shell of his ear, trying to calm denji down from everything raging around inside him.] Aa. The doctors and Aizawa-sensei stuck me on stupid light duty.
[he shrugs his shoulders to roll the shirt off his upper body, letting it fall down around his waist and arms, it's easy enough to strip off his one wrist free, but the other... he ignores it, letting denji see everything in full. shoulder, side, chest, arm, luckily one his cheek was wrecked enough to scar when it could've been all the way up his neck and jaw. yeah, he'll need to change his bandages tomorrow. but they'll hold for another day. denji's right in that katsuki got yanked back in the middle of trading the dressings, hence the bared skin in some places and the dried-bloody bandages in others. if it's any consolation, or even more damning, the scars katsuki got from his boyfriend's chainsaws in vegas are now... gone.
before he answers, he leans in, takes denji's chin in his good hand, lifts his head and eyes to meet his own, then touches his lips to his boyfriend's. kissing him long, warm, deep, hard, needing to show him his feelings are all still there, 100% intact and burning a bright as the explosions he embodies. he won't leave it too long though. even in abject sorrow and frustration, body reactions are body reactions. and he and denji have a lot of physical memories together. breaking the kiss, he lets him go and leans back, freeing the half-devil to inspect again.]
The doctors were able to keep its shape with surgery, but it's pretty fucked up. There's no guarantee it'll ever go back to normal even with physical therapy. [he thinks about telling denji how the doctor suggested amputation in order to continue being a hero, but... katsuki opts to save that for another time.] Heh. He doesn't know who the fuck he's talking to. I'll kick the physical therapy's ass and bring it back to full health!
[ "I'm not dead". denji closed his eyes for a moment as if trying to compose himself and not allow the emotions to run as high as they desired. it's not something he wanted to hear; such words are not reassuring when he's in this mindset, especially when he can see, even behind the bandages, the wounds are far too deep. almost fatal. they looked like it. denji was sure they'd feel like it, too. the flesh is probably too soft, skin hasn't healed or closed up yet, raw and vulnerable. subconsciously, his gaze settled on those injuries over anything else, finally picking up on the missing scar — the one his chainsaws engraved during the infamous vegas mission. for some reason, one he couldn't understand, it made him feel a certain way. the touch on his cheek is kind, but faint. bakugou's tone was too low, nothing but a whisper— in contrast to bruises blooming in violent hues across his skin, bandages obscuring injuries that probably gave the hero a small taste of what death feels like. those visuals were loud in his mind, heart, and soul. denji was lost in it, staring, watching, and if he was quiet enough ... he could almost hear bakugou's heart strain to match a steady beat. he allowed the fabric to slide down each shoulder and let go. denji was still crouched before the other boy; shoulders slumped, head tilted. his hands dangled between his knees, fingers half-curled, motionless. it was the kind of stillness that came from a realization that he is, once again, helpless.
he then picked up on a shift, the urge to lift his chin upward, unwilling to break off his stare until the view was completely blocked as bakugou leaned in. then warmth wrapped around him, one that felt more real. a kiss that lingers long enough to fade away any doubts; bakugou is still alive and breathing. he's back here, not in the best state, but it's his boyfriend. he went back to the moment when he noticed his side of the bed was empty, thinking of the way he desperately searched for him around the base, knocking on doors and demanding answers. and in that shared kiss, in that unshaken presence, denji reminded himself this was not the time to break apart. mourn, that's fine, no one is expecting him to act like it's another day. they had to ... find a way to get through it. together. so he kissed him back, matching his intensity, keeping it soft with its slow intimacy. a much-needed breather before they returned to their reality. his arm ... that's the hard part of it all. there is a chance he will never be able to use it again, and bakugou might not be the hero he always dreamed of being. he knew this was everything to him. there is no way ... he's okay with it.
was he scared when he found out? when he woke up with a mutilated arm? ah, surely he wasn't alone during that hard time? his parents were with him, right? his friends? his teachers? - yeah, bakugou isn't like him. he had a support group. ahhhh, why did that hurt a bit? maybe because denji realized he didn't need him there. fuck, this isn't about him. why is he thinking like this? ] I, uh ... don't know much about physical therapy. But I'd like to be there with you. To help.
[ there's a pause, gaze low, he then pulled himself from settling on the floor and joined his lover on the bed. gently, he placed a hand on his knee, meeting his eyes. ] We'll find a way to fix this. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll do anything for you ...
[stop taking everything he's trying to say to reassure and comfort you and turning them into horrible things that make you feel even worse about his fucking return, dammit! sheesh. you want him to stay silent and just spread his arms in offering to let you suss out if he's alive or not? unfortunately he doesn't have ways of actually knowing what denji's thoughts are, but seeing little change in the other boy's expression after an attempt at comforting him, katsuki tells himself it might be best to let denji drive for now. whatever he needs to somehow convince himself he's not suffering another nightmare ready to be whisked away at a moment's notice. of course he can't expect his boyfriend to sober up the second he returns after he's spent hours despairing over his disappearance. probably similar issues when trying to tell his mom and dad he was okay, he wasn't dead, he was lying in the stupid hospital bed with oxygen in his nose and ivs in his arms and bandages everyfuckingwhere and they shouldn't be fretting over him and crying because he wasn't dead, dammit! it's probably the same damn thing. being the reason for someone else's pain. maybe his heart is straining, weakened from his transfer back into this world. but he trusts edgeshot's quirk and determination. his repaired heart was brought back from utter ruin by his mentor's desperate refusal to let him die, and his senpai's willingness to give his life if it meant snatching him back from the embrace of death. he won't hear someone smear their effort and sacrifices by doubting their strength! ... not that katsuki's going to run himself ragged on the treadmill to test it.
yet he still kissed him. sometime to try and give denji tangible proof he's not some wrecked ghost come to grace his bed for a few moments of garish goodbye before vanishing forever. denji's always been a physical person, even before becoming a half-devil, as it's far easier for him to accept what's right there in front of him, against him, than trust some words or far off future he has no clue about. this is real, this is now, this is what he can react to immediately without worrying about how or why he does something later. katsuki expects him to need his time to mourn and melt away his shock into tears. but right now, he needs his boyfriend to understand this is happening. he's back, albeit in rough shape, but he's alive and here. denji kisses back and that's all the assurance the young hero needs to know his lover's at least going to try. the kiss slowly breaks with a soft smack of skin peeling off skin, a gentle breath ghosting warm/cool on their mouths, and he eases back to sitting quiet.
he'll have to tell him eventually. of his fight with the others in that floating coffin, of how shigaraki ruined his arm, of how his heart exploded, of how best jeanist and edgeshot frantically kept him alive until they could repair his heart and save his life, of how he returned to save all might and received his armored splint, of how he fought against all for one and fucked his own arm and heart up even more with a death's-door-raised power level of his quirk, and finally ended that monster simply by running out the clock's last two minutes after so many other heroes weathered the hours before... was he scared? a few times. but by the time he woke in the hospital, he knew his body had paid a price for his victory.]
You will. [a soft, gentle affirming. denji will be there with him for much of this effort.] I'll tell you what we have to do. [passive physical therapy, where the treatments are performed by someone else on him, rather than by katsuki's attempts himself. lifting his arm, gently curling his fingers, bending at the elbow, resting it on a shoulder, reminding the muscles how to move even if katsuki's not allowed to actually try and move them. they aim to improve pain, range of motion, and function without requiring active participation from him. denji's going to have to be strong and both deal with katsuki's resulting pain and bitch at him for trying to speed up the process by moving on his own.
he rests his good hand over denji's once his lover settles on the bed in front of him, knees almost touching each other. a warm promise, offered help, reassurance, things he needs and wants badly right now.] I know. I'm not gonna let you down.
[ or, bakugou should acknowledge people process trauma differently. it's impossible to feel 'good' or 'comforted' at this early stage of their reunion; not only did he disappear, but denji had to deal with a glimpse of the life that awaits him once they part ways and it's all over. he had to deal with those emotions and for someone who had nothing growing up, and has lost so much— denji did not have the emotional strength to process loss like normal, healthy-minded individuals. then that boy returns in pain and gushing wounds, which is another realization that bakugou's world is equally cruel. his boyfriend won't return and live a perfectly mundane life. he will be dealing with enemies that will come for his head, stripping away the one ounce of reassurance he stupidly fed himself that the hero will, at least, live a long, happy life. it's — a lot. and no, he will not feel good today or anytime soon. will he be leading anything? no. denji is coping. his human side will grieve in a burst of unconsoled sentiments, only to simmer down a few hours later when his devil side mutes them all into utter nonchalant. then— what's next? find something to keep your heart full, run after cheap thrills if you must, pull yourself together, and move on. the next step is supporting bakugou with his recovery, a goal to keep his mind fixated on something palpable.
a physical touch will always be the most effective way to put matters into perspective. it tends to both sides who are equally deprived and starved for validation. it speaks louder than endless words, more grounding and vivid. more trustworthy. not that his boyfriend's verbal reassurance had no influence on him, denji would still perk up when he got compliments here and there; it's bakugou's confession that kept him from slipping away during the rescue mission— it all means so much. however, in this early morning, that kiss is what he needed the most. a smart move from the other, whether it was intentional or not. denji isn't sure what to expect from the therapy sessions, how beneficial would it be to try to contact lilith to do something about bakugou's situation? shouldn't they be able to cure him? then again, didn't the hero mention the lack of painkillers was a major issue? which encouraged him to start finding alternative ways to assist the outsiders heal better? guess that means lilith won't be so helpful in boosting his recovery. ]
You'd never let me down ... [ he glanced over, inwardly a bit taken back. it made him wonder if bakugou was feeling any guilt for all of this. it's not his fault, and denji's feelings about it are not his fault either. his thumb traced delicate circles over the back of bakugou's hand, savoring the texture of his skin, the quiet intimacy between them. he then lifted it slowly and pressed his lips against his knuckles, lingering there for a moment. a simple gesture spoke of devotion, a promise that even if the world kept hurting him, stripping him of his fragile humanity, denji would always be devoted to him. if he couldn't be strong for himself, he would be for bakugou. this might not be the ideal outcome for the hero, yet -unfortunately- there is no way out of it. ]
If you want to talk about it ... I can handle it. [ the war is over. the heroes won. that's one thing that would calm denji down as the details come to light. yet, he wouldn't push the other to go through it if he wasn't ready. ] Your friends ... are they okay?
[despite their relationship and experiences together, there are things that are incompatible between them. understanding how each other process things and handle intense elements is one of them. their backgrounds and histories are so completely divergent, it's impossible for bakugou to really "get" how denji handles his trauma, leaving him frustrated when his attempts backfire in his face. likely a similar feeling to denji's frustrations over bakugou never being the kind of open person willing to share when he's feeling badly. he knows his boyfriend's not mentally healthy or emotionally put together, missing out on those growing years with a strong family and friends to form such resistances and safe coping mechanisms. but it doesn't make it easy on bakugou to be put on the back foot. he's so used to understanding and being able to handle people, finding himself glancing off and struggling for balance is a completely alien experience. even if he's felt it with denji a few times. the immature side of himself often wants to toss his hands and "fine" until the other boy's able to pull himself together in his own way. but, maturity's a bitch and he stays.
can't say the kiss was a smart move or not. part of him wonders if physical touch, while reassuring and comforting to denji, will somehow be construed as a way to shut up his emotions and push aside his thoughts or feelings in exchange for a few pats and rubs. leaving him alone to handle his grief and fears on his own while his body receives its shot of dopamine. he doesn't want denji to think his raw gooey messy parts aren't important. as the kiss separates, bakugou realizes he's going to have to trust the half-devil on what's good for him. he can't make those decisions himself. he shouldn't. what he can do right now is to simply be with him, and let him know he's not going anywhere. that for all his strength, bakugou's going to be relying on denji for help in the next several months. therapy's not going to be fun or easy. as for lilith... hell no. those bastards have no idea what kind of work the doctors in bakugou's world did to put his arm and organs back to this state. he doesn't want them reverse engineering his surgery and trying to fix it faster, shove nanobots in his blood, or lop his fucking arm off as they seem so eager to do for people who get wrecked. leave lilith out of this.]
I'd be a pretty shit hero if I let my biggest fan down. [of course he's feeling guilty about all of this! it's stupid hero guilt he's so quick to yell at others for feeling, and then hypocritically dumps on himself! enjoy playing with that, denji. bakugou glances down to the other teen's thumb as it brushes over his knuckles. ironic part is, he's probably going to have to do the same motions during therapy on his fucked up arm. well, maybe not the kissing part. denji's soft touch, the devotion in his silent promise, brings warmth to his chest and a gentle throb in his heart. ow. kind of... he curls his hand around his boyfriend's and nudges his knuckles against his mouth in a small return of that affectionate contact. they have their differences, but it only makes him love this guy even more. he didn't fall for denji because he was the "ideal" guy with a perfect everything. he fell for him because no matter what, denji continued getting up.]
I know you can. I'll tell you all about it later. [he wants to give them both some time to rest and recover from the shock of vanishing and returning. rather than tell denji about how his arm was wrecked, his heart exploded, endeavor lost his arm, midoriya had his own arms decayed off, uraraka got almost eviscerated, todoroki had to almost kill his own murderous brother... all might... no, he'll tell denji the details later when they're in a better state to talk.] Yeah, some are more banged up than others, but they're alive.
[ considering they just recently started— well, actually talking to each other, sharing more of their painful past and grim future ahead, it might take time for them to understand how the other copes during the hard hours. despite that, denji isn't the type to push anyone away, if anything — he yearns to share his distress with another kind soul who could embrace him. desperately wanting to be loved. a boy who isn't shy to ask for help, to run after happiness in the face of a merciless world, isn't shy to admit weakness and his flaws, far too honest, open, and vulnerable to anyone who could handle him. denji didn't hide behind his anger, nor did he allow himself to drown in hatred - he still wanted to believe there was more in this life than pain. is there anyone out there who would accept the imperfections that came along with him? a lot of people won't, and he wouldn't blame them. they wouldn't want to hear it, harbor it, or be burdened with it. it's too much work. is he worth it? and yet, shameless as ever, he wants someone to take it, to love him the way he is, as the broken, damaged, fucked up mess of a human and devil ... and the person who took him in is bakugou. even if the hero gets frustrated at times that his efforts are unheard, they still reach denji's heart. they still mean the world to him.
maybe. maybe physical contact is a way to escape, but isn't it the same for everyone else? isn't it normal to want to be close to the people you love when you're hurting? seeking their touch and warmth to soothe the distress from within. it's only human. however, there is a thin line between seeking solace and creating a coping mechanism for suppressing emotions. that's where denji tends to struggle, though. unsure of that blurred gap between trying to calm yourself and repression, often interpreting feeling a bit 'better' means there is no need to talk about it when, in reality, this is the right time to bring it out. still learning traumatizing events don't really go away with time or distraction. no, they linger, and after a while, they start poisoning one's heart. they are not meant to be confined and ignored. yeah, that's — one thing denji has yet to understand. ]
Katsuki ... you could never disappoint me. [ his expression softens, sad, yet he had no intention of taking away bakugou's right to feel that way. just because he didn't agree with it doesn't mean they're not valid. he stayed quiet, taking a moment to think. bakugou's friends are alive; maybe they're not fully healed and thriving yet, but the hard part might be over. he shifts his gaze lower, staring over those wounds, then over his injured arm. ] You're not dead. You won.
[ yeah, took him long enough, but it hits him now. bakugou is so young, younger than him, and yet he had to go through a huge war with enemies who are arguably stronger and more vicious than him ... and he's still alive. he won. he faced them all and was the last one standing, breathing and now healing. relief that it might be over. relief that he had all the support and love around him to come out of stronger. bakugou will be fine. it overwhelms the half-devil, the rush of raw sentiments when those toxic thoughts are muted down, and the bigger picture comes in. it is so hard to see the positive when your heart is bleeding all the time, but when it comes ... god, it's so warm in his soul. with that, denji's shoulders hunched a bit; the thick air eased out of his lungs, cheeks a bit flushed. ]
I was so scared ... [ he kept his head low, fingers curling a bit tighter around bakugou's now, still careful not to squeeze so hard. ] ... I knew you were gone instantly. I didn't see it happen, but I felt it. I felt you leave. Your side of the bed wasn't even warm ... it was cold ... it's like you were never there. It was like it was all a dream. I knew one day this would happen ... but I never thought it would hurt ... that much ...
[is he worth it? is denji worth the challenges arising in their relationship, presenting themselves to bakugou in one gory or frustrating moment after another. splayed and grisly, a far cry from the perfect he image he likes to see himself in. a boy who wants to be a hero, a boy who wants to be loved, a boy who wants to be accepted even with his damaged self. he comes with baggage, he comes with issues, he comes with background, trials, pain. is he worth it? ... yeah. yes he is. bakugou took stock of everything and more when he realized his feelings for denji. a life with the half-devil would bring challenges, would drag his hand down his face, would vex and rankle him. he knew all these things, and accepted them. arguments, disagreements, knowing there would be things he'd never fully understand about his boyfriend, there would be places inside him bakugou would never be able to reach. he made his decision with his mind weighing heaps of "but's" and "you know's" and more he wouldn't know until later. and he still said yes. to his feelings, to denji's, to the "us" that became of their individual selves.
human, devil, hero, civilian, strange, normal, denji is denji, and denji is the man he loves. no matter how broken he is. so he reaches out and cups his cheek, smooths his thumb over flush skin under his eyes, cards his fingers through his shaggy hair (reminder to get that trimmed soon), and caresses the back of his neck as he leans in for a quiet kiss. promising though touch alone he's not going anywhere. denji will never be "too much" for him. even if they have to take some time to sit alone and let things vent. even if they don't see eye to eye. even if denji's heart slams in his ribs and he wants to scream at bakugou's world for abuses he sees. if he wants to talk about those things, he can, but all the same, there's hesitation on the hero's part to bring up everything right now. mostly because war remains fresh in his mind and he'd rather not go diving back in on either of their parts. later. when they have some time to rest and accept this.]
Heh. So where'd that pout come from when I pulled you away from the dessert bar last time? [a quiet tease. times he's seen denji's expression furrowed and his lower lip stick out. earlier moments when sex had to be put on hold. or a request to stay in bed longer gets rejected. yeah, he knows that's not the same disappointment denji spoke of just now. but he's going to poke at him even a smidgen for the sake of bringing his heart up in his sorrowful sea.]
Aa. We won. [there are places where he doesn't think it felt like they did. all for one died. shigaraki died. toga died. toya's on the road to death. jirou lost her ear. midoriya's arms were crushed. all might's body was wrecked. tokoyami and hawks were all but eviscerated. cities were demolished. land masses were torn asunder. their nation is scarred even as it begins to recover and the losses are tallied. they won, they have a society and nation to rebuild, not to the way it was, but to a way that's better for everyone. a burden no one symbol of peace can shoulder alone. victory... (oy, he's 17 too, you know, only three and a half months from 18.)
as denji slumps and his shoulders hunch, bakugou wraps his arm around the other boy's shoulders and neck, holding him close as they sit in bed together. listening to his words and feelings leaking out around the chokehold in denji's throat. their hands remain joined, resting close to denji's collar.] I'm sorry...
[of course he shouldn't apologize. it's not his choice to leave or stay. and yet, the guilt remains, knowing his disappearance tormented his boyfriend. leaving behind someone he cared about so much. what else could he say? anything sounds pithy and even dismissive. chiding him for not trusting he'd return is out the window. encouraging him to have faith if it happens again is foolish. reminding denji he vanished twice now as well is pointless due to the sheer speed at which he blinked out and returned. promising he wouldn't leave again is stupid. bakugou rests his head against denji's own.] I'm sorry I left you alone.
[ there is a part of him that is mindful and oddly aware that not everyone can handle his past, who he is, and what awaits him in the future, often trying to find a balance between being honest and reserving on certain details. of course he wanted bakugou to get to know the real him, open up to him and trust his boyfriend enough that he will not repel him— it's difficult when he also is desperate to protect the young hero, as well. there is beauty in bakugou's unshakable desire to fight for a better world, to reach a hand out to those who need saving, hopeful that everyone could be saved because that's what heroes are for ... to 'fix' the world and make it a better place. denji did not believe that. not in his life. not among devils. not in a japan that lost all its humanity. he knew if he invited bakugou further in, fed him every segment of his timeline, and painted a clear image of what it's like in his home, he might ruin that brilliance inside of him. denji could be wrong; he could be foolish to assume katsuki would have any doubts, but he loves that boy too much to risk it. he wants him to carry that flame until his last breath, the confidence that societies can change, good overcomes evil - he loved to see him thrive like that, content to rest under the shadow of his shine until he can no longer do it. this is their time together; not everything should be heartbreaking and full of sorrow. he wants his lover to see him get better, find some peace, and be happy. whatever awaits them after they part ways will be buried with denji; he will endure it alone, only wishing that bakugou will remember him with a smile over anything else.
the little tease made denji scoff a bit, bringing his free hand to rub away the few tears that made their way down his hot cheeks. ah, busted. he knew bakugou was trying to lighten the mood, and he also knew he took his words in the way he intended, so there was no sense of urgency to explain himself. he kept his head low, hiding behind those messy bangs (time for a haircut for sure), leaning his head against the other. there is something unspoken about denji's body language: the lack of confidence in it, almost hiding or seeking refuge against bakugou's, begging for comfort. ] ... I still have some candy in my stash since fucking xmas. I don't blame you for stopping me that day. Heh ... [ as for the other times denji was dramatic enough to protest for not getting his way, well— bakugou denying him is justified most of the time. it didn't mean the half-devil wouldn't pull out his fake 'smart' glasses and try to negotiate a deal, but you can't win them all. and, after he's done scowling at a nearby wall, he is still aware that his heart is full of warmth. he loved every moment they had together. last night? or, this early morning, to be precise ... might not be a fond memory he'd like to keep. he's still a bit shaken from it, the faintest hint of a quiver through his fingers, unwilling to let go of the other's hand as they sat there on the bed, staring down at their knees.
bakugou is apologizing. the first time was a bit tolerable; the second made denji close to breaking apart again. he pressed his lips together, holding still, muting the shudder in his breath. he's quiet for a bit, unsure what to say. it wasn't his boyfriend's fault, yet he understood that guilt. he understood bakugou was hurting, too. they're both trying to be each other's safe space, trying their best to push through all those foreign emotions that are consuming them. denji might not be as helpful at this moment, but he's adamant about not entertaining those thoughts for too long. the hero needs him to step up, and he will. he will attend all the physical therapy sessions. he will take care of the heavy-duty side of the job, pick up on bakugou's active cases, patrol the streets, and let the other focus on the paperwork or solving the puzzle from the office. whatever he can do to support him through the healing journey, denji is committed wholeheartedly. as for now, he will carry a face full of tears, whimper softly under his breath, and allow himself to be utterly vulnerable under the weight of his grief. maybe they both need to do this? drop their guard and just — let it be.
denji leaned in to kiss him soon after; started with a brief touch against bakugou's cheek, and then the corner of his mouth, and another on the lips. he shifts a bit, turning his upper body to face the other before kissing him again, deeper, allowing his lover to relax his arm if he wishes to. is he hiding behind intimacy? ... maybe. however, wasn't bakugou gone for a long time? denji knew how it worked. a few hours, a few seconds ... could mean days, weeks, or even months back home. how long was the hero gone? when was the last time, in his memory, they shared a kiss? when was the last time someone got close to him? a little reminder won't hurt. denji is very careful not to touch any open wounds or his aching arm. after all, he wanted his boyfriend to feel ... good. ]
[might. only a might. bakugou's seen darkness in his own world. and his world didn't have the excuse of devils from another realm. only human darkness. bad choices made from fear, pride, eagerness, protection, good and bad reasons and emotions. even good choices that ended up with bad results. he's seen people murder, he's seen people die, he's seen people torture, imprison, bully, hurt, ignore, abandon. he's walked through ugly alleys and stood in criminal dens. yet all of that comes from a young man who never lived in the shadows. of course his mindset will never be able to align with denji's. and he has to accept that. but at the same time, he has to prove to his boyfriend nothing he says or does (short of straight-up continued villainy) would ever be enough to turn bakugou away from him. the only way to prove it is to smash into every damn doubt the half-devil births in his head, crash against each foul thought promising nothing good can come to or for someone as messed up and unimportant as denji, sink his hands into them like shadowy vestiges and rip them apart one by one, over and over, as many times as he needs to in order to reach that small boy way down inside, and offer his hand to him. maybe he'll never be able to touch his soul and heart in this life... but he won't stop trying. he vowed to never be one of those bodies lying behind denji. never wear a label of regret, betrayer, left, mistake, abuser, or anything else littering his boyfriend's past. bakugou won't break that vow. ever.
he lifts his head to give him some space enough for his hand's invading between them, watching his skin come away wet with tears smeared across his cheeks and nose. good thing he doesn't bother explaining himself; that'd've gotten a miffed look. part of him wants to raise denji's head, look into his eyes and remove them from the shield of his bangs. but he holds back, waiting to let the other boy make that decision for himself. he doesn't expect his body to swim with confidence and assurance right now. not after having someone he cared for so much so suddenly and easily ripped away from him. it's a miracle the other boy's even got his head together as much as he does. he continues to be his source of strength. as much as he can. if it'll be of any comfort to him.]
You would've gotten sick. [can denji get sick? he's seen his boyfriend eat a lot of things... going on a sugar binge would make him hyper at worst. those other aspects when he had to put his foot down for one reason or another are becoming more rare as they two work out their life compromises between them. denji's more and more able to cut deals with the hero, and bakugou's able to encourage the hunter to accept a few more "healthy" life choices. hopefully, this trauma will begin to fade after a few weeks. he'll never be able to convince denji he won't leave. but he intends to give him day after day of good memories as long as he's here. fingers wander across his own and he curls them, lacing their digits together and brushing his fingertips over the back of denji's hands, feeling warm skin and slender bone. physical. raw. present.
they can compromise, again, one actions going forward. of course bakugou's going to be mad he has to let his boyfriend take over the heavier work. grump about not being able to drive as much. stuck doing paperwork instead of kicking villain butt. relegated to handcuffing the bad guy only after denji's beaten them to a sobbing mess. guess they'll be working together more in the kitchen too, sharing meal making in their rooms over the small collection of burners and cutting boards. that'll be nice though. making the bed's gonna suck...
he leans into the kiss once it settles on his cheek. eyes lid halfway as they gravitate around towards his mouth. finally closing when lips meet lips and he's taken back to so many times they've kissed together. sheets scuff under skin and clothes, knees clunking as denji faces him and deepens the kiss. he eases his arm to rest on his boyfriend's shoulder, his bad one remaining resting on his thigh under the care of bakugou's back of the mind. intimacy might be a shield, but it's also its own bandage. and denji's right. it's been days in the hero's world. days since he's had a kiss, been kissed, but the man he loves. only a few hours here, but so many in his mind. the half-devil knows what that's like, doesn't he. unfortunately... kissing is touch and denji is a very attractive young man. and bakugou's still a young man himself. memories and heat eagerly return to his mind, resulting in his hand curling in his boyfriend's shirt and giving him a small pull forward. if he's not stopped, bakugou's going to ease onto his back and pull denji down with him.]
[ there is some healing in those simple gestures of holding hands, seeking closeness, the slow exchange of words, merely coexisting and sharing space as they go through what has happened. neither of them is pressing to jump back into their old routine, nor are they eager to wipe away those tears and force themselves to move on from this. instead, both bakugou and denji are taking their time. they're facing it, talking about it, acknowledging it wasn't easy and it will never be, all the while making sure their feelings are heard. denji is scared, and he said it out loud. bakugou's wounds are too fresh, and he's not ready to talk about it right now, and he said it out loud. they both understood the pain won't leave their hearts anytime soon — and maybe that's okay. maybe that's how it's supposed to be. they should embrace that heartache, and perhaps in time, denji wouldn't be as scared, bakugou wouldn't be as reserved, and they both find their way to keep themselves grounded. they are fighting two completely different battles; the road to recovery is their journey that they need to explore on their own. denji didn't know where to begin, but he is ... slowly ... realizing that it was something only he could figure out, and when he does— he would be able to ask bakugou to help and do it right this time. he'd no longer find ease over someone dictating his every step, taking control of his life, but instead ask for their support. while the thought is there, and denji does wish to go through it, to be strong enough to execute it and prove to bakugou that he has grown, it's hard to deny that it is still tempting to sit back and allow someone else to fix everything for him. it's such a liberating feeling in a very fucked up way, even at the expense of his own freedom. ugh, maybe in a few days, when things calm down, he'll stop having such weird thoughts ... ]
Hmm, I might ... [ unlikely, considering what he can stomach; between eating nasty kaiju meat, swallowing devils and throwing them up, and feasting on something that is more delicate in its nature. denji is not apologetic about what he had done in the past yet subtly aware he shouldn't run his mouth about it around bakugou. regardless of their closeness and the fact his boyfriend did make an effort to be accepting of the half-devil's little quirks, this might breed some unwanted doubts. in the end, he won't forget he is dating a hero. perfect standards, polished grades, top of the class, born into a successful family, and has all the support to be the new symbol of peace. he's too damn bright and golden, and denji ... loves it. the scum in him loves he somehow managed to be associated with someone so perfect and so so good. someone who is -let's be real- out of his league. so, nope. no confessions of cannibalism. it's a good thing that kabru guy is not part of their close circle, probably never spoke to bakugou either (?), so that incident in the cult will not see the daylight.
unfortunately ... they're both oh so young. without breaking their kiss, one arm supported bakugou's lower back; fingers splayed to provide balance as he guided him downward. the other hovered just above the injured arm, not quite touching but never straying too far, a silent promise of protection. the sheets wrinkled softly beneath them, the mattress sinking with their weight. denji moved with the utmost caution, tugging on the pillows to provide extra support to bakugou's head/neck, ensuring he wouldn’t have to move too much. his hands ghosted over bakugou's side, lifting a lightweight blanket with care before draping it over them, the fabric settling in gentle folds before he got himself cozy on his side of the bed. he shifted, facing his lover under the shared warmth of the blanket, eye to eye. then, back to kissing him again. sighing softly, bakugou would feel the faint touch of his tongue between their pressed lips, the way denji relaxed his jaw, and the unspoken words of 'i missed you so much' — even if it was a few hours, he still missed him. ah, it was a bit tricky here, as he didn't know where he could and couldn't reach for. where it hurts and where it doesn't. even if bakugou's major wounds are explicit, it doesn't mean his bare skin isn't aching either. it's okay. all denji desires is more closeness, more warmth ... and while he couldn't pull his lover into an embrace, mindful of his chest injury, maybe he can get away by tracing a hand over his thigh, attentive to any reaction that might illustrate discomfort.
and because they're so young, denji will take a few pauses between each kiss. not that it contributed to anything more than turning it into some sensual tease to himself. ] Do you need ... painkillers? when was your last dose?
[weird thoughts are gonna spawn no matter what. bakugou's never been one to want someone else controlling his life. even advice and support from others, parents and teachers included, tend to chafe at him. bristling against the idea someone else is telling him he's wrong in his own damn life, or someone wants to take part of the effort and reason behind his accomplishments and victories. but for all his pride and aggression, he's slowly come to learn what it means to be part of a team, what it means when people are willing to come after him to help him, what it means to see a hand offered. will he take it all the time? hell no! but when he does, it won't be with teeth grit and tears burning as if he's walking through hell to do so. denji's going to help him, this time, the next time, and every time beyond that. not because he needs to or has to, but because he wants to. and the hero knows he's going to accept it for the both of them. to help denji in return. not as an ordering command, but as supporting encouragement asking him to think or consider before making a choice.]
Right. [he doesn't trust that for a moment. denji's mouth and stomach are impervious. hunger branded in his soul not to waste something edible. fitting his devil powers include eating. though part of him wants to know everything about denji, he's aware much of his past is sordid, dark, and likely clashes hard with what bakugou feels about being a hero. best some things are left unsaid. just as there are things in the hero's past he'd rather leave personal between him and the person involved. no one ever knows 'everything' about someone else. even the people they love. only enough room for one full life in one head. pieces of others are best they can have. pieces of denji in his life. not as the dirt in an alley or the gore of some monster, but as a warm growing hero refusing to fall despite the tragedies and struggles his life throws at him. that's what bakugou focuses on in his boyfriend. who he is, what he wants, who he could be. but at the heart of it all, is denji. not chainsaw man. not a weapon or a pet. denji. the boy he took hold of his hand and held on tight. maybe he is out of his league. doesn't stop him from making his choice and hauling his ass up to stand beside him. no one gets to decide denji's worth to bakugou except bakugou. not even denji. tried with kabru twice, both soon ignored/dropped, so ixnayed any future attempts
guess there's something to be said about meeting up with your boyfriend after what is weeks in his world but only hours in this one. bakugou rests his free hand in denji's hair, arches his back as that arm loops around his spine, and lets the other boy ease him down onto the bed once more. his injured arm slowly slides to rest flat on the sheets beside him, hopefully out of the way of potential hand or knee placements. his good one will have to make up for its missing partner, running huffle scuff through denji's hair in more heated movements as kisses turn to nigh making out while his boyfriend ease atop him. has to lift his head somewhat for those pillows to wedge under there. a hand on his side, catching a blanket to curtain them in the bed, heedless of it being well into morning by now. denji's been up without sleep for hours, hasn't he. kisses break, forehead to forehead, eyes to eyes. and back again, tilting his head to deepen those touches. tongue on his lips, inciting his mouth to open and his own slick muscle curling out and running across the surface of his boyfriend's. he knows exactly what words exist in those movements. dammit, he wants to hug him, pull him into a tight embrace, press bodily to him and soak in all those tactile physical closeness devils like so much. but he's stuck with a hovering body and a hand on his thigh. dammit... denji's gonna be responsible now?]
A few hours ago. I was in the middle of changing the bandages.
[ he can almost hear the disbelieve in bakugou's tone here, in which he returns it with a faint smile, one that is a bit apologetic for that tiny white lie. yeah, they both know gluttony is denji's main sin, a few inches higher than lust, and while he likes to make an excuse for growing up starved enough to use clean toilet paper as his dinner— did he have any reason to carry that habit now that he's secured financially and surrounded with people who enjoy feeding him? there is no doubt denji is slowly but surely adopting the culture of 'feeding' on his enemy, almost as if mimicking the way the chainsaw devil would function in a fight. sure, it helps heal his wounds, but it's also a growing instinct to not only kill but to grab a taste. is this why he started feasting on the falling devil during their fight? was he actively thinking of erasing them, or was he doing it subconsciously? did he consider how the world would function without such a concept? nope. head empty, but the stomach is happy. this— is something he will have to think about if it ever crossed his mind as a red flag. in this city, where his powers are limited and only one devil is around as a threat, perhaps he didn't need to stress about it. the kaiju palate cleansing will be purely for the sake of healing and growing missing chunks out of his flesh. as for asking bakugou for a few drops of his blood during missions, that will stop. he'd rather carry around extra fuel, such as blood capsules or anything functional, or feast on a kaiju's corpse. his boyfriend is off-limits moving forward. for very valid reasons.
of course he will be responsible. this is the ultimate test in his journey of having a mate, and he plans to come out of it with high scores. his boyfriend is injured, not only physically but also emotionally. going through a war can leave an endless scar, plenty of near-death experiences traumas, and at times - survival guilt. while bakugou hasn't talked about it yet, denji is certain he probably lost a few people he cared about, and on top of all that ... he almost lost his arm, and with it, he might've lost his dream of being a pro hero. the future is uncertain, will he ever regain his strength back, or is that arm will never be able to cope with the intensity of his quirk? the unknown is terrifying. bakugou, despite the calm behind his gaze, the desire to indulge in their brief intimacy and comfort his boyfriend, is probably - scared. he's just not the type to show it; whether it's pride or strength or both, denji didn't want to dismiss it. ah, it's okay if they don't talk about it, but this is still bakugou's time. his time to lean on the other, his time to be taken care of. ]
And you're not in pain? [ the agonizing type, when the meds wear off, but yeah— he assumes the hero will feel a lingering throbbing ache in the early weeks into the recovery. still careful, still conscious of their bodies, denji's gaze drifted downward. a thought perked his interest as he leaned closer, instead of targeting those lips, he went for a fading bruise on bakugou's neck. there was another over his throat, a bit darker, and this skin is fated to be extra sensitive. yet, with a tilt of his head, he lightly brushed his lips over it and another right above his collarbone. the touch is more of a whisper, as if each kiss could take away even a fraction of his pain. those were the small ones, but staring lower, with bakugou's top still unbuttoned and with his bandages exposed, the half-devil could see the real damage; the harsh discolorations bloomed along his ribs, the dried blood stains all over the coverings and the scars underneath. can he? should he ... ? kiss it. would it be soothing, or would it hurt as hell? probably painful. of course it would. ]
Shouldn't we change the bandages? We will be sleeping for a few hours ...
[bakugou bites at his lip even if it means making the smile vanish for a gasp or increase with pleasure. no complaint from his mouth about denji's insistence on treating all food as sacred. even if he'll put his foot down when it comes to his boyfriend wanting to save fish bones and clam shells. look, he'll boil them to make a stock, but he's not gonna watch his mate crunch away on scraps and refuse as if he's got no idea where or when his next meal will come from! (no he doesn't bitch at denji for apple cores or carrot tops, but he's not making any damn banana peel "spaghetti" - that's bullshit and you know it.)
alas, he can't answer any questions on why the other boy might start chewing on devils during his fights, apart from needing blood to regenerate his injuries being the obvious answer. why bother wasting time holding up the spigot for a drink, or exposing your vulnerable side to bend down and lap, when you could do damage with a chomp and regenerate simultaneously? maybe he should tell denji about that yakuza member who's quirk was eating things... he might be intrigued by it. or that straight-jacket freak who could attack by elongating his teeth to fucking ridiculous size and shapes. gross. bakugo used to carry some little packets of his blood on him when teamed up with denji during kaiju fights, but he stopped doing that after the disastrous vegas mission, aware of denji's feelings about hurting him in the desert. it hasn't been a problem since, though they did have that talk about how to supplement that in a battle. raw meat or blood packets.
oy, don't talk about emotional injury unless you want to see bakugou get growly. does he consider himself emotionally injured? no, though he unconsciously bears scars of war in his mind and heart as well as on his flesh. he endured war and experienced it, but refuses to let the battle cripple him in any way. a hero doesn't falter in fear or ptsd flashes! (this from the guy who still tenses up if someone grabs him by the nape out of nowhere -- thanks, fucking bacon face.) if anything lingers after the war, it's a quiet somber over not being able to save everyone. he didn't have a final boss he emotionally resonated with like the other three, and yet, he saw how sorrowful midoriya, todoroki, and uraraka were over their inability to save the villains they tried their hardest to reach. he'll eventually talk to denji about these things. though they lost plenty of heroes and villains in the war, miraculously, his classmates and teachers all made it through. though midnight's death will forever affect him. as for his arm, well dammit, he's getting the fucker back! even if physical therapy drags him through hell to reach it! there's time to think about his unknown future and his fear later. denji will probably need to do some digging to reach that topic.]
Not right now. [which is probably telling. aching happens when he pain meds wear off. throbbing, burning, itching, freezing, whatever the fuck his frayed nerves feel like feeling under his skin. breaking his bones in so many places, having his muscles ripped apart, his flesh half peeled off from the torquing, his arm went through a lot. but the doctors did their damnest and its shape was salvaged. these ugly scars and weaknesses will be the payment for quite some time. bakugou drops his head to the side, breath catching as denji latches onto the slope of his neck. he feels no pain now. only denji. his boyfriend, his warm body, his strong form, his sucking drag and sharp teeth. leaving marks already. on his skin that's already mottled from before. tension pulls at his body, free arm wrapping around denji's shoulders in a desperate grab that sees his fingers digging into the other boy's shoulder blade as he works on his collarbone next. dammit, he's really trying to rile him up, and it's working. gentle kisses to heady sucks. but when he reaches below his collar, hovering above the repaired damage of his chest and sternum... reality finally takes its due and bakugou drops his head on the pillow.
dammit. downstairs is working just fine! why's denji gonna focus on his fucked-up upstairs?! ... fuck.]
If you got some around here, fine. [might as well finish what was started.]
[ the bite, unfortunately, just made his smile a bit wider. still spicy, even when injured. and, no, denji will always finish every single edible portion within sight; whether it's bones or fruit peels, they're still nutritious. this might be a habit that would be difficult, if not impossible, to break away from— unless katsuki has the energy to prepare a second meal of the leftovers or maybe promise denji he will reserve them later for another dish. compromise. it might bring an unattractive visual to the other fellow everlight sharing their space, to open the fridge and see a small container full of chewed bones, shells, and other undesired bits of a meal. maybe at times, one of their teammates thought they were doing the base a favor by tossing them, and hence denji's utter heartbreak of good food going to waste. yeah, it would be a lot easier for bakugou to let this guy munch away and not stress himself over the aftercare.
and the part about dying. when/if denji finds out about that, he'd be more focused on bakugou. considering he experienced dying in every gruesome method possible- it's safe to say he knew how utterly traumatizing it is. the pain, the fear, the slow descent into darkness, and the unknown of what will happen next. For devils, it might be child's play, but for someone who is human, flesh and soul, bakugou surely wouldn't brush it off as another monday. then again, he had a feeling bakugou isn't the type to get too personal about certain matters, often choosing to deal with it on his own, it's less of the hero faking a brave face and more of a genuine dismissal of matters he cannot control. it happened. why dwell on it? he's alive. move on. well, denji hopes that's not the case. while he didn't know the remedy to heal such anxieties, he's certain dismissing them is not an option either. since he's the one in charge, leading the recovery mission, he decided to give the hero a week or so to calm down before cornering him. yeah, be ready for that one, babe.
as for marking his lover, it was an honest error from his end, one he should have apologized for but didn't. after all, denji was attentive to the other, mindful of every shift or ease in bakugou's features, searching for any inkling of discomfort with every move. if those small hickeys didn't hurt him, then it's fine. he's not about to treat his boyfriend as frail. even when mild frustrations slip in, watching the way his head dropped back against the pillow, blinking slowly with his head tipped to the side. what's up with that? no idea. ]
Okay. I'll change 'em. [ he knew he had a first aid medical kit somewhere in his cluttered room, something he decided to include a few months after they started getting cozy with each other, adopting a joint night routine that involved— well, some patching up. both their jobs are not easy; between fighting kaiju and criminals alike, bakugou would need a little attention after an exhausting shift. ah, he's thinking about whether he had enough bandages to attend to all those wounds. when was the last time he checked if it required some restock? he's thinking about it, seemingly distracted, before denji pulled away; his hands pressed against the mattress on bakugou's sides, muscles tensing as he gradually pushed himself up. the fabric of the blanket over him was clinging to him for a fleeting moment before it relented, sliding down the curve of his back in a lazy descent.
just when denji gives the impression of leaving the bed to fetch the medical supplies, he ends up fiddling with bakugou's pants instead. he hooks his fingers on the hem, securing his waistline before tugging down. he then gestures for the other boy to arch his back a bit, allowing him to decide how far he can comply and lift his hips without triggering any ache. on any other day, denji would manhandle him, but that's off-limits until full recovery. he doesn't plan to strip him off completely, too much effort, just enough skin for denji to bend over, curl his fingers around his lover's cock, and - well, continue his string of soft, light kisses along his length, up to the tip; breath warm, cheeks flustered. ]
[while he's fully able and ready to make side dishes out of fish guts and broccoli stalks, refuse like banana peels, peanut shells, bones too oft boiled for a stock, and so forth are going into compost for the greenhouse. it's called recycling. there's a difference between leftovers and "trash" when you're not living in the alleys. bakugou'll raze people to the ground for throwing away leftovers, one for wasting the food, and two for being picky morons who avoided it until the food went bad! denji probably got away with his containers of scraps for a while, but bakugou was likely one of the outsiders who found what to him was a container of trash and recycled it. if they got into an argument about it later, so be it. you're not some alley cat chewing on a fishbone! and if he had to show why those items weren't going to waste, he'll take denji to the greenhouse for a full tour plus lesson in compost.
what's up with that? mostly because he's got a damn boner now and denji's talking about changing his bandages. dismissing his death is his proud flippant way of focusing on something more important: his life. very much an "i survived, bitches" person rather than lying in bed at night reflecting on a trauma he can't even remember. pain, drive, impact, darkness... and suddenly he was standing up again, knowing he had to move. he doesn't "remember" his own death. who the fuck does? so why dwell on it. when he can dwell instead on trying not to think about denji's lips on his skin, memories of his hands sliding between his legs, a warm breath on his nape, a strong chest pressing to his back, hips slotting with his own, a now-familiar girth and length filling him- FUCKING HELL!
so much for making it go away. flopping on the bed, he cussed under his breath and glares death at the ceiling. ceiling, now that denji's head's not in the way. frustration boils under his skin. he'd rather be looking at denji's pretty face than the stupid lines and gleams of his bedroom roof. these bastards couldn't pull him back just a few minutes later when the doctors were done redoing his dressings, so he could focus on his boyfriend rather than getting these damn scraps taken off again? ... why's denji not getting off the bed? so ready to glare at him as he putzes around the room, bakugou completely misses the part where those strong legs never left the bed itself. he tugs his head up from the pillow, eyes finding his boyfriend perched on his knees between his legs instead. fuck, he did that arched spine temptation where the sheet flows down his back to pool erotic around his waist on purpose!
fingers grip at his pants and bakugou growls in relief, surprise, and vexation. he curls his fingers in the bedding beside him, teeth gritting and muscles pulling taut as his boyfriend curls into his pants' rim and tugs down. abdominal definitions crunch on his core as he lifts his hips, using his heels and calves to arch his thighs and waist so denji can work his pants down. fuck, he'll take this if the half-devil's going for a compromise. his lower body's not in any rough shape. maybe some bruises from tumbling around, but those are mostly faded. until he's got his pants worked down to that uncomfortable level of his thighs. guh, he hates that feeling... which is completely lost once denji's warm breath ghosts over his tip and fingers wrap around his aching arousal. a half-choked groan of his lover's name wrangles from his throat, good arm lifting to run his fingers down his own face. fuck. even small kisses like that are intense thanks to the time passed between then and now. knees bend outward, spreading his legs as much as he can with his pants trapping his upper thighs. denji's gonna steal his breath like this.]
[ ha. if only he knew his beloved bakugou would get in the mood after such an intense reunion, then again— denji shouldn't be judging anyone since he's the one who instigated it. why did he think it was appropriate to start fondling his boyfriend's dick after everything that happened this early morning. it is questionable, indeed, on both their ends, but who is he to judge what they chose to embrace as a method of de-stress? denji is anything but okay; a lot is going on in his head, and he is still a bit stunned after spending hours wreaking havoc across the base. the dread he went through was unbearable. he couldn't find any word, touch, or thought that could even begin to reassure him that he could get over this utter heartbreak- he couldn't imagine the thought of moving on, living, finding joy and motivation to go on. it was a dark, helpless hell, and it would be foolish to pretend with a snap of his fingers he was all okay. he's not. bakugou is still injured. he's hurt. their routine will change. he'd end up watching the person he loves struggle with everyday tasks, and they would have to prepare themselves if his arm would never recover. it's a lot to take in; he understands, he's ready, and he will fight by his side no matter what.
... so why now? why couldn't he leave bakugou to rest? why didn't he get up to change the old, bloodied bandages that were fated to stain the sheets? why? hmm, because it's been a while, hasn't it? to katsuki. he never thought to ask if he had a love interest back home, someone to keep his bed warm and dick wet even if they were indulged in an active war. ok, he doubts the hero had the time to exchange kisses and spit while trying to survive. another thought that perked denji's interest was the disappearance of the scar he left on bakugou during the vegas mission, almost as if he had never been in this city before. while lilith can restore their memories, they can't do much about the physical aspect of their travels. he wonders if - hey, maybe it's a silly thought- he wonders if bakugou is a virgin again. somehow? he did say his time with denji was his first, didn't he? was it a wild idea? maybe. but intriguing, regardless.
it might explain why the half-devil didn't bother to wait for a full recovery and was adamant about leaving his mark on the other boy immediately. well, while being mindful of his injuries, of course. which explains why denji is more patient, allowing the other to shift into a more comfortable position against the bed while slowly working his fingers and seeking some friction, kissing, and nuzzling into his arousal. soon after, bakugou would feel the pressure from his lips and his tongue, followed by the cool, slick spit sliding down his shaft. fuck, he's eager already, breath hot and heavy. denji knew he was getting a little too excited himself, yet he didn't plan to pay much attention to it. he hums and pulls up so he can play with the head, suckling on it and swirling his tongue over it, all the while, his hand pressed along bakugou's cock, jerking him off — not too fast, but certainly adopting a steady rhythm, fingers messy.
back to kissing, turning his head to brush his lips against his inner thigh, shifting a bit so he could help keep bakugou's knees propped up; leaving behind more love bites over the bare, clear skin. his lashes lower, cheeks burning - fuck, that boy's skin is too damn soft, if only he could sink his teeth a little harder as he'd always do. ugh. denji then tilts his head to the other side and slows his hand down so he can secure his wet lips over the tip, the faintest brush of sharp teeth against the sensitive flesh, a sensation that could make anyone a bit uncomfortable. and then, with ease, denji takes in the hero's cock inside his hot mouth, going lower, and lower ... without a hint of a gag reflex on sight. ]
[he'll immediately blame denji for instigating the damn thing! and yet, here he is, doing fuck all about pushing him away or wriggling free of his grip. katsuki's more than capable of stopping it. his mind races in two parts: one logical (quieter) side yelling about how stupid this is, how he'll elevate his heart rate, how there's only one accidental twitch or touch away of hurting his damaged parts, and one erotic (much louder) side snarling at his other brain to shut the fuck up because denji's below his damn waist, it feels amazing, and he hasn't seen his fucking boyfriend for weeks! devils are physical creatures and denji's always been more easily assured and comforted with touches than words. if taking a flight risk is the cost of giving the man he loves some reassurance, then dammit, he's going to do so! that's also not taking into account katsuki's still a teenager and he's got a fucking libido more than eagerly reacting to his handsome mate threatening to go down on him here and now. fondling the entire time. fuck...
ask him if he's a virgin and he'll promptly punt him right in his stupid face. the answer is yes if we don't accept the idea a bunch of handsome teen boys living in close proximity with each other would end up messing around with each other, and yes since his body technically reset to canon level, and no if you wanna say he has all the memories of emotional and physical reactions to denji taking his virginity (and vice versa) once more held in glowing red and gold light inside his head.
fuck, he wriggles on the bed slightly, trying to keep his motions limited to hips and lower, his good arms, and his head. wanting denji to stop fucking around and pull his damn pants off completely so he's not stuck with his legs trapped in the hem, knees twitching each time he tries to instinctively spread his legs around his boyfriend's strong chest and narrow hips. each kissing run along the side, hot breath ghosting over his shaft, fingers playing along the seam of his sac, cheek nuzzling into the now-leaking tip of his cock leaving a wet smear on denji's skin. all but tossing his head to the side with a snarling cuss when saliva drips and oozes cool slick hot onto his glans and runs down his shaft soon enough. fuck, he's salivating all over his dick and katsuki wants to grab his head and shove it right down onto himself. resisting, instead fisting the sheets and groaning as his boyfriend eases his head up to the tip once more and torments him with playful suckling and circling tongue, simultaneously fluting his fingertips up and down his now-glistening length. he's being so damn slow with it too-!!
bakugo whips his head to the front, snarling breathlessly down the length of his damaged chest when denji kisses the inside of his thigh. he can only get his knees partially up before the dynaband of his sweats' hem catches on the half-devil's chest, pinning his ripcord to his sternum and holding the hero's legs down at a certain level. the guy's basically lying between his thighs as it is and only bothered those pants down to middle thigh. bastard, lounging down there with his lashes long and his cheeks covered in rouge and his tawny eyes almost glowing behind that shaggy covering of sandy hair... he missed him. he missed him so damn much. only now remembering it clearly. until denji sets his mouth on katsuki's tip and closes his lips around it. soft and warm suddenly giving way to sharp white points that would make most people recoil and shout, but has the other boy panting in pleasure, finally ripping his hand from the sheets and fisting into his boyfriend's hair instead, head falling back on the pillow and legs struggling against their confines as precum lances onto denji's tongue. yeah, so apparently he's still got that kink for denji's teeth. fuck off. good to know his lover hasn't regained his gag reflex in the past few hours.]
[ bakugou got a few points right, and while it does seem denji is on the giving side of this erotic service, he was doing it mainly for reassurance to himself, and if he dares to admit - please himself, too. his boyfriend's compliance is exactly what he wants if the endgame here is both of them finding comfort after such a dilemma, and since they do have a habit of being extra mindful of when they can share/open up ... physical affirmation is their love language. they would rather rely on touch over whispers, and maybe that's okay. maybe that's how they function, whether it's the right thing or not. if bakugou chose not to talk about the war, then he will fucking suck his dick then. does this escalation make any sense? it does to denji. of course, the half-devil wouldn't proceed if it wasn't mutual. if bakugou chose to stop it, he would stop. no questions asked and no protests. if he picked up on any hint of distress, a little groan that sounded less sensual and more out of pain, he would stop as well. his partner comes first, always and forever.
riding high on instinct and impulse, working his wet mouth as he slid his stretched lips along his lover's dick in shallower, short thrusts, making sure that sensitive tip gets a proper feel of the warmth of the back of his throat; again, not a single cough and gag, just pure bliss. eyes closed, denji took him in deeper, moving his hand in sync with his head, humming appreciatively while his tongue painted hot swirls around the hero's arousal. as for his teeth? yeah, he will always be careful with those fuckers, but it didn't mean bakugou wouldn't feel them. the occasional, light touch along his length; a fleeting sting just before retreat. and at some point, as denji paused very briefly to swallow the mess pooling inside his mouth, the pressure lingered for just a second longer, letting the points rest against flesh, feeling the pulse and throb beneath. there was no teasing, talking, or goofing around this time— it was intense, way too eager for a tease, and denji didn't want to even entertain another pause after the first one. he kept sucking, licking, and stroking his lover with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. the fact he's actively ignoring bakugou's silent demand to free his legs is something. no, he didn't plan to assist him with that, favoring restricting that boy this time. for his safety, at first, and for denji's pleasure, second. speaking of pleasure - it's getting a bit too intense. for himself.
while it was merely a few hours in the half-devil's timeline, as bakugou hasn't been out of the picture for too long, he also missed him. he can't explain the fucking logic behind it, but everything about this felt like they'd been weeks apart for some reason. so it's to no one surprise he was painfully hard already, and if it was any other day, he'd probably go for more. fuck. taking him in deeper, denji muffled a groan against his full mouth, hollowing his cheeks a bit. he caught his breath, not missing a beat as his fingers took over, leaning back with reddened lips as he popped them off bakugou's cock, wet and slick, smeared with the leaking pre-cum all over. a short retreat, they caught each other's gaze for a second, denji even smiled - he dares to do with those lips and teeth bared. yeah, he missed this handsome face.
the sounds he's making now, both unintentional thanks to the drool and the ones full of aroused need forming in the back of his throat, are obscene. the room is too quiet to mask them, but nothing about their act is modest, to begin with, or moral. whenever he feels bakugou attempt to shift or squirm under him, denji is careful to keep him in place, mindful of his injuries even when improper thoughts are getting too loud in his head. "he can take it." ... "he's a hero and trained to handle any amount of pain." ... "maybe if you ask nicely, bakugou would agree!"
yeah, the recovery journey will be interesting ... ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[morning-ish]
i'm back.
fingers ease out of their death-dealing crush and he slowly lets himself come down from a rushing heart. instantly cringing in pain and gripping at his chest. fuck! ... right. slowly he pulls himself up, breathing easier amid his pounding head. his life here. lilith. the outsiders. denji. his boyfriend. that's whose scent clung to him in a comforting embrace. god, feels like someone crammed a book in his head. resting his forehead on his hand, he gives himself a few minutes of adjusting before lifting his head. right. nothing he can do about it.
the room's a fucking mess... how long has it been? morning.
denji. god, the half-devil's probably gone fucking mad. where's his phon- ... oh right. the other headache.]
denji. hey. stop raising hell. i'm in your room.
[and looking... different, body sporting a collection of new and old scars, his right arm hanging by his side looking a complete wreck.]
thank you for the 💥 PAIN 💥
it's not like bakugou didn't wiggle his way out of the strong embrace many times before, whether he had to use the bathroom, leave on an early jog, or he decided he had enough wasting the morning and would rather be productive— for whatever reason, denji always felt the slight shift and shuffle, and he would always, always force one eye open to check on his partner. this time, as he followed an old routine, he peered through his tired lids, only to find no one around. he woke to silence. the kind that wasn’t peaceful, wasn’t soft, but hollow. a void where something should have been. instinctively, his hand reached across the bed, searching for warmth, for presence— for him. but all he found were cold sheets, untouched, undisturbed ... as if bakugou had never been there at all.
dread and utter fear begin to settle in. denji's fingers curled into the emptiness beside him, gripping at nothing, trying to find proof that bakugou had been there. that this wasn’t real. that this wasn’t happening. this can't be happening! a deep, sinking chill spread through his chest as he threw the blankets aside and bolted for the door. his pulse pounded against his ribs, panic creeping up his throat, drowning out reason, drowning out everything but the need to find bakugou. the first victims happened to be aki and tsurumaru, blissfully sleeping in their room, unaware of the chaos coming their way. they didn't have an answer. raidou's next— he's bakugou's friend, right? best buddy. he should know something. the poor guy was up for a rude awakening, but he also had no answers. who's next? yuuji. vash. any other everlight who managed to answer his rapid knocking on their door. denji pushed forward, turning sharp corners, scanning every room, every shadow, expecting— no, praying— to catch a glimpse of him. a flicker of movement, a sliver of hope. but all he found were empty spaces where bakugou should have been.
the air in his lungs turned thin, tight.
this wasn’t right.
this couldn’t be right.
the hours felt like days, even weeks. it was so easy to slip into an ugly mindset, desperate to escape a pain that's fate to consume him. it's unbearable. suffocating. and then— he got the text. his legs moved before his brain could catch up, shoving past furniture and bolting down the hall at full speed. the walls blurred around him, and his breath tore through his throat. denji's heartbeats roared in his ears as he shoved the door with enough force that it slammed against the wall, barely registering the sound, barely registering anything beyond the fact that his boyfriend was there. real. living and breathing. ] Katsuki ... !! [ yeah, he noticed immediately. the way the hero was sitting, stiff and too still, shoulders slightly hunched as if bracing for something. the morning light behind the sealed curtains cast shadows along bakugou's skin, but not enough to hide the fresh marks carved across. denji's eyes locked onto his arm first. the way it rested too carefully in his lap, fingers curled but tense. the bruising, dark and violent, creeping along his forearm. the scars are another story. how did— .... when did he get all of this?!! denji didn't know where to look. some healing, some raw. some thin, some deep.
it's not right. he's not okay ... ]
........ what happened?
[ there are ten other questions lined up and ready to bust out of him, but denji bites them back. breathe. breathe. breathe ... ]
suffer in misery and resulting gross fluff
BAM!
there goes the door. katsuki looks up to hall light streaming in, momentarily outlining denji's figure in a darkened silhouette, one arm flung out and body hunched slightly with his chest heaving in and out. this guy. relief and heat flood through his chest, sappy nostalgia and a seed of guilt nestling in the sticky gore of his fucked-up-but-repaired organs. denji's eyes snap and jerk, going from one place to the next, trying to put reality back into his mind after spinning wildly for hours. yeah, time for some fucking damage control.]
Looks like I went home. [to answer that right off the bat. katsuki lifts his good arm towards denji.] I'm back, Denji. It's me. [a few tiny sparks snap and pop around his hand, offering it in some further proof he's alive and present, not some illusion or dream or recording.]
guess its time to use the tracker rings even when baku needs to leave to piss
slowly, hesitantly - he approached the other, kneeled down before him, glancing up and meeting bakugou's gaze. of course denji is a mess. of course he looked like he was crying the entire time, and he sure was. his eyes, red and swollen, held the weight of too many tears shed in too little time. the delicate skin beneath them was darkened and bruised with fatigue, the kind that sleep wouldn’t fix. his lashes, still damp, clumped together. his lips, trembling and chapped from uneven breaths, pressed together as if trying to hold in whatever was left of his shattered composure. until he had to speak- ] Were you fighting alone?!!
[ look- denji knows it's a war, shit happens, but what the fuck?! it's like bakugou was fighting all the dangerous guys with zero support. all alone! he cussed, shaking his head. fuck, this is not the time. ] A-Are you still bleeding? Let me take you to the doctor right now!
he's gonna send smarmy feelings at him
the "blood" on his body reveals itself to be little more than shadows from where he'd been facing. unlike the first time, he hasn't been pulled from the middle of the war with his body a ravaged mess still oozing blood and gore. instead, a week or two has passed from the battle's end. it looks more like he's been in the middle of his wounds being redressed. the garish burst in the middle of his chest still sports fresh staples and stitches from where his exploded torso had been frantically sewn up by his panicking mentor and ultimately reforged by the pro hero willing to give his life in exchange for katsuki's. his right arm's a mess, with sutures and staples and bio-glue holding on layers of flesh, restructuring his bone, tying together sinew and tendons, one thing on top of another to miraculously manage to keep his arm's shape. cheek stitched shut from where it'd been torn open. but for all that, katsuki's not dripping his life onto the bed or even looking like he's in pain. well, asides from a splitting headache from having his two lives' memories smashing together.
sorry to give you a heart attack, denji, but yeah, it's been several days since the war ended when katsuki was brought back. he's in recovery mode, enough to even return back to u.a. (even if some of his friend think he should still be in the hospital.)
he reaches up with his left arm, the right one remaining still and suspiciously immobile beside him, and rests his hand on the side of denji's face. touching his cheek, feeling the warmth of his flesh, the very real tangible evidence his boyfriend is here in front of him, alive and well. puffy red eyes, tear-stained face, lips bitten and worried, bruises on his nose bridge from where he'd scrunched his brows far too much over the past several hours. denji's gonna crash hard whenever all this shit catches up to him. katsuki silently resigns himself to staying beside his boyfriend for the next few days. honestly, he's gonna need it.
but those words, panted out in surprise, desperation, accusation... red eyes narrow and he immediately fixes denji's brain with a serious-toned rejection.] No. I never would've been able to beat him on my own. Everyone was there... We won.
[he refuses to let denji believe katsuki's allies, classmates, friends, the other heroes, abandoned him to fight alone. for as much as he did, katsuki's well aware he basically stepped in at the end and bought the last two minutes needed or victory, after a hundred other heroes were brutalized over the past several hours on the path towards it. each one giving their all to buy just even a few more seconds.]
I'm okay, Denji. [he's not okay entirely.] The war's been over for about two weeks.
at least he will know you're still here 😔
why him? ]
... You're not okay. [ despite his feelings, his tone came out a lot softer, calmer, and undoubtedly loving. if there are changes within him, whether they will alter his perspective about certain matters or not, one thing is for sure— he will always love that boy. he's more important than all the growing conflicts inside of him, and even if he was fuming from within, none of it would reach the surface when he speaks to the other. ] You probably won't be okay for a while, too. But ... I'll take care of you.
[ it's his turn to care for the other, and he won't start it by spitting fire in his boyfriend's direction. he wouldn't scream 'Why?!!' and demand how that all happened when his tantrum wouldn't change the outcome. if anything— it would probably upset bakugou instead. again, breathe. shifting closer, he carefully unbuttoned the other's top, just enough to check on the wounds underneath. the old bandages, once white, were now stained with dried blood, clinging stubbornly to the somewhat healing yet wounded flesh beneath. no, bakugou didn't appear to be neglected; they were wrapped professionally, but perhaps ... he got dragged back in here before someone could change them. even behind the covering, denji can see the scars carved into his skin too deep, fated to shadow bakugou for the rest of his life.
denji looked sick, not out of disgust, but just sheer sorrow. he's quiet, slowly tilting his head as he inspects the other dark bruises and markings around his lover's body. ] ... and your arm? [ had to let that one out, preparing himself for the worse. he can't predict his own reaction to this one, which is a dangerous gamble. ]
and he is taking that knowledge extremely seriously
I'm not dead. [he'll let him have the gentle chiding about being "okay" because he's obviously not. the wounds are still healing, his arm's obviously not functional, and katsuki looks tired compared to his usual state. but compared to others who made it through the war with amputations, horrific scars, and even lost or irreparably damaged quirks, he's... made it out alive. he can't say the same for some. hearing denji's voice, the love and affection inside, grips at his chest in a warm and painful way. how much he missed his voice, even if he didn't remember it in his mind. he thumbs over the shell of his ear, trying to calm denji down from everything raging around inside him.] Aa. The doctors and Aizawa-sensei stuck me on stupid light duty.
[he shrugs his shoulders to roll the shirt off his upper body, letting it fall down around his waist and arms, it's easy enough to strip off his one wrist free, but the other... he ignores it, letting denji see everything in full. shoulder, side, chest, arm, luckily one his cheek was wrecked enough to scar when it could've been all the way up his neck and jaw. yeah, he'll need to change his bandages tomorrow. but they'll hold for another day. denji's right in that katsuki got yanked back in the middle of trading the dressings, hence the bared skin in some places and the dried-bloody bandages in others. if it's any consolation, or even more damning, the scars katsuki got from his boyfriend's chainsaws in vegas are now... gone.
before he answers, he leans in, takes denji's chin in his good hand, lifts his head and eyes to meet his own, then touches his lips to his boyfriend's. kissing him long, warm, deep, hard, needing to show him his feelings are all still there, 100% intact and burning a bright as the explosions he embodies. he won't leave it too long though. even in abject sorrow and frustration, body reactions are body reactions. and he and denji have a lot of physical memories together. breaking the kiss, he lets him go and leans back, freeing the half-devil to inspect again.]
The doctors were able to keep its shape with surgery, but it's pretty fucked up. There's no guarantee it'll ever go back to normal even with physical therapy. [he thinks about telling denji how the doctor suggested amputation in order to continue being a hero, but... katsuki opts to save that for another time.] Heh. He doesn't know who the fuck he's talking to. I'll kick the physical therapy's ass and bring it back to full health!
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he then picked up on a shift, the urge to lift his chin upward, unwilling to break off his stare until the view was completely blocked as bakugou leaned in. then warmth wrapped around him, one that felt more real. a kiss that lingers long enough to fade away any doubts; bakugou is still alive and breathing. he's back here, not in the best state, but it's his boyfriend. he went back to the moment when he noticed his side of the bed was empty, thinking of the way he desperately searched for him around the base, knocking on doors and demanding answers. and in that shared kiss, in that unshaken presence, denji reminded himself this was not the time to break apart. mourn, that's fine, no one is expecting him to act like it's another day. they had to ... find a way to get through it. together. so he kissed him back, matching his intensity, keeping it soft with its slow intimacy. a much-needed breather before they returned to their reality. his arm ... that's the hard part of it all. there is a chance he will never be able to use it again, and bakugou might not be the hero he always dreamed of being. he knew this was everything to him. there is no way ... he's okay with it.
was he scared when he found out? when he woke up with a mutilated arm? ah, surely he wasn't alone during that hard time? his parents were with him, right? his friends? his teachers? - yeah, bakugou isn't like him. he had a support group. ahhhh, why did that hurt a bit? maybe because denji realized he didn't need him there. fuck, this isn't about him. why is he thinking like this? ] I, uh ... don't know much about physical therapy. But I'd like to be there with you. To help.
[ there's a pause, gaze low, he then pulled himself from settling on the floor and joined his lover on the bed. gently, he placed a hand on his knee, meeting his eyes. ] We'll find a way to fix this. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll do anything for you ...
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yet he still kissed him. sometime to try and give denji tangible proof he's not some wrecked ghost come to grace his bed for a few moments of garish goodbye before vanishing forever. denji's always been a physical person, even before becoming a half-devil, as it's far easier for him to accept what's right there in front of him, against him, than trust some words or far off future he has no clue about. this is real, this is now, this is what he can react to immediately without worrying about how or why he does something later. katsuki expects him to need his time to mourn and melt away his shock into tears. but right now, he needs his boyfriend to understand this is happening. he's back, albeit in rough shape, but he's alive and here. denji kisses back and that's all the assurance the young hero needs to know his lover's at least going to try. the kiss slowly breaks with a soft smack of skin peeling off skin, a gentle breath ghosting warm/cool on their mouths, and he eases back to sitting quiet.
he'll have to tell him eventually. of his fight with the others in that floating coffin, of how shigaraki ruined his arm, of how his heart exploded, of how best jeanist and edgeshot frantically kept him alive until they could repair his heart and save his life, of how he returned to save all might and received his armored splint, of how he fought against all for one and fucked his own arm and heart up even more with a death's-door-raised power level of his quirk, and finally ended that monster simply by running out the clock's last two minutes after so many other heroes weathered the hours before... was he scared? a few times. but by the time he woke in the hospital, he knew his body had paid a price for his victory.]
You will. [a soft, gentle affirming. denji will be there with him for much of this effort.] I'll tell you what we have to do. [passive physical therapy, where the treatments are performed by someone else on him, rather than by katsuki's attempts himself. lifting his arm, gently curling his fingers, bending at the elbow, resting it on a shoulder, reminding the muscles how to move even if katsuki's not allowed to actually try and move them. they aim to improve pain, range of motion, and function without requiring active participation from him. denji's going to have to be strong and both deal with katsuki's resulting pain and bitch at him for trying to speed up the process by moving on his own.
he rests his good hand over denji's once his lover settles on the bed in front of him, knees almost touching each other. a warm promise, offered help, reassurance, things he needs and wants badly right now.] I know. I'm not gonna let you down.
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a physical touch will always be the most effective way to put matters into perspective. it tends to both sides who are equally deprived and starved for validation. it speaks louder than endless words, more grounding and vivid. more trustworthy. not that his boyfriend's verbal reassurance had no influence on him, denji would still perk up when he got compliments here and there; it's bakugou's confession that kept him from slipping away during the rescue mission— it all means so much. however, in this early morning, that kiss is what he needed the most. a smart move from the other, whether it was intentional or not. denji isn't sure what to expect from the therapy sessions, how beneficial would it be to try to contact lilith to do something about bakugou's situation? shouldn't they be able to cure him? then again, didn't the hero mention the lack of painkillers was a major issue? which encouraged him to start finding alternative ways to assist the outsiders heal better? guess that means lilith won't be so helpful in boosting his recovery. ]
You'd never let me down ... [ he glanced over, inwardly a bit taken back. it made him wonder if bakugou was feeling any guilt for all of this. it's not his fault, and denji's feelings about it are not his fault either. his thumb traced delicate circles over the back of bakugou's hand, savoring the texture of his skin, the quiet intimacy between them. he then lifted it slowly and pressed his lips against his knuckles, lingering there for a moment. a simple gesture spoke of devotion, a promise that even if the world kept hurting him, stripping him of his fragile humanity, denji would always be devoted to him. if he couldn't be strong for himself, he would be for bakugou. this might not be the ideal outcome for the hero, yet -unfortunately- there is no way out of it. ]
If you want to talk about it ... I can handle it. [ the war is over. the heroes won. that's one thing that would calm denji down as the details come to light. yet, he wouldn't push the other to go through it if he wasn't ready. ] Your friends ... are they okay?
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can't say the kiss was a smart move or not. part of him wonders if physical touch, while reassuring and comforting to denji, will somehow be construed as a way to shut up his emotions and push aside his thoughts or feelings in exchange for a few pats and rubs. leaving him alone to handle his grief and fears on his own while his body receives its shot of dopamine. he doesn't want denji to think his raw gooey messy parts aren't important. as the kiss separates, bakugou realizes he's going to have to trust the half-devil on what's good for him. he can't make those decisions himself. he shouldn't. what he can do right now is to simply be with him, and let him know he's not going anywhere. that for all his strength, bakugou's going to be relying on denji for help in the next several months. therapy's not going to be fun or easy. as for lilith... hell no. those bastards have no idea what kind of work the doctors in bakugou's world did to put his arm and organs back to this state. he doesn't want them reverse engineering his surgery and trying to fix it faster, shove nanobots in his blood, or lop his fucking arm off as they seem so eager to do for people who get wrecked. leave lilith out of this.]
I'd be a pretty shit hero if I let my biggest fan down. [of course he's feeling guilty about all of this! it's stupid hero guilt he's so quick to yell at others for feeling, and then hypocritically dumps on himself! enjoy playing with that, denji. bakugou glances down to the other teen's thumb as it brushes over his knuckles. ironic part is, he's probably going to have to do the same motions during therapy on his fucked up arm. well, maybe not the kissing part. denji's soft touch, the devotion in his silent promise, brings warmth to his chest and a gentle throb in his heart. ow. kind of... he curls his hand around his boyfriend's and nudges his knuckles against his mouth in a small return of that affectionate contact. they have their differences, but it only makes him love this guy even more. he didn't fall for denji because he was the "ideal" guy with a perfect everything. he fell for him because no matter what, denji continued getting up.]
I know you can. I'll tell you all about it later. [he wants to give them both some time to rest and recover from the shock of vanishing and returning. rather than tell denji about how his arm was wrecked, his heart exploded, endeavor lost his arm, midoriya had his own arms decayed off, uraraka got almost eviscerated, todoroki had to almost kill his own murderous brother... all might... no, he'll tell denji the details later when they're in a better state to talk.] Yeah, some are more banged up than others, but they're alive.
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maybe. maybe physical contact is a way to escape, but isn't it the same for everyone else? isn't it normal to want to be close to the people you love when you're hurting? seeking their touch and warmth to soothe the distress from within. it's only human. however, there is a thin line between seeking solace and creating a coping mechanism for suppressing emotions. that's where denji tends to struggle, though. unsure of that blurred gap between trying to calm yourself and repression, often interpreting feeling a bit 'better' means there is no need to talk about it when, in reality, this is the right time to bring it out. still learning traumatizing events don't really go away with time or distraction. no, they linger, and after a while, they start poisoning one's heart. they are not meant to be confined and ignored. yeah, that's — one thing denji has yet to understand. ]
Katsuki ... you could never disappoint me. [ his expression softens, sad, yet he had no intention of taking away bakugou's right to feel that way. just because he didn't agree with it doesn't mean they're not valid. he stayed quiet, taking a moment to think. bakugou's friends are alive; maybe they're not fully healed and thriving yet, but the hard part might be over. he shifts his gaze lower, staring over those wounds, then over his injured arm. ] You're not dead. You won.
[ yeah, took him long enough, but it hits him now. bakugou is so young, younger than him, and yet he had to go through a huge war with enemies who are arguably stronger and more vicious than him ... and he's still alive. he won. he faced them all and was the last one standing, breathing and now healing. relief that it might be over. relief that he had all the support and love around him to come out of stronger. bakugou will be fine. it overwhelms the half-devil, the rush of raw sentiments when those toxic thoughts are muted down, and the bigger picture comes in. it is so hard to see the positive when your heart is bleeding all the time, but when it comes ... god, it's so warm in his soul. with that, denji's shoulders hunched a bit; the thick air eased out of his lungs, cheeks a bit flushed. ]
I was so scared ... [ he kept his head low, fingers curling a bit tighter around bakugou's now, still careful not to squeeze so hard. ] ... I knew you were gone instantly. I didn't see it happen, but I felt it. I felt you leave. Your side of the bed wasn't even warm ... it was cold ... it's like you were never there. It was like it was all a dream. I knew one day this would happen ... but I never thought it would hurt ... that much ...
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human, devil, hero, civilian, strange, normal, denji is denji, and denji is the man he loves. no matter how broken he is. so he reaches out and cups his cheek, smooths his thumb over flush skin under his eyes, cards his fingers through his shaggy hair (reminder to get that trimmed soon), and caresses the back of his neck as he leans in for a quiet kiss. promising though touch alone he's not going anywhere. denji will never be "too much" for him. even if they have to take some time to sit alone and let things vent. even if they don't see eye to eye. even if denji's heart slams in his ribs and he wants to scream at bakugou's world for abuses he sees. if he wants to talk about those things, he can, but all the same, there's hesitation on the hero's part to bring up everything right now. mostly because war remains fresh in his mind and he'd rather not go diving back in on either of their parts. later. when they have some time to rest and accept this.]
Heh. So where'd that pout come from when I pulled you away from the dessert bar last time? [a quiet tease. times he's seen denji's expression furrowed and his lower lip stick out. earlier moments when sex had to be put on hold. or a request to stay in bed longer gets rejected. yeah, he knows that's not the same disappointment denji spoke of just now. but he's going to poke at him even a smidgen for the sake of bringing his heart up in his sorrowful sea.]
Aa. We won. [there are places where he doesn't think it felt like they did. all for one died. shigaraki died. toga died. toya's on the road to death. jirou lost her ear. midoriya's arms were crushed. all might's body was wrecked. tokoyami and hawks were all but eviscerated. cities were demolished. land masses were torn asunder. their nation is scarred even as it begins to recover and the losses are tallied. they won, they have a society and nation to rebuild, not to the way it was, but to a way that's better for everyone. a burden no one symbol of peace can shoulder alone. victory... (oy, he's 17 too, you know, only three and a half months from 18.)
as denji slumps and his shoulders hunch, bakugou wraps his arm around the other boy's shoulders and neck, holding him close as they sit in bed together. listening to his words and feelings leaking out around the chokehold in denji's throat. their hands remain joined, resting close to denji's collar.] I'm sorry...
[of course he shouldn't apologize. it's not his choice to leave or stay. and yet, the guilt remains, knowing his disappearance tormented his boyfriend. leaving behind someone he cared about so much. what else could he say? anything sounds pithy and even dismissive. chiding him for not trusting he'd return is out the window. encouraging him to have faith if it happens again is foolish. reminding denji he vanished twice now as well is pointless due to the sheer speed at which he blinked out and returned. promising he wouldn't leave again is stupid. bakugou rests his head against denji's own.] I'm sorry I left you alone.
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the little tease made denji scoff a bit, bringing his free hand to rub away the few tears that made their way down his hot cheeks. ah, busted. he knew bakugou was trying to lighten the mood, and he also knew he took his words in the way he intended, so there was no sense of urgency to explain himself. he kept his head low, hiding behind those messy bangs (time for a haircut for sure), leaning his head against the other. there is something unspoken about denji's body language: the lack of confidence in it, almost hiding or seeking refuge against bakugou's, begging for comfort. ] ... I still have some candy in my stash since fucking xmas. I don't blame you for stopping me that day. Heh ... [ as for the other times denji was dramatic enough to protest for not getting his way, well— bakugou denying him is justified most of the time. it didn't mean the half-devil wouldn't pull out his fake 'smart' glasses and try to negotiate a deal, but you can't win them all. and, after he's done scowling at a nearby wall, he is still aware that his heart is full of warmth. he loved every moment they had together. last night? or, this early morning, to be precise ... might not be a fond memory he'd like to keep. he's still a bit shaken from it, the faintest hint of a quiver through his fingers, unwilling to let go of the other's hand as they sat there on the bed, staring down at their knees.
bakugou is apologizing. the first time was a bit tolerable; the second made denji close to breaking apart again. he pressed his lips together, holding still, muting the shudder in his breath. he's quiet for a bit, unsure what to say. it wasn't his boyfriend's fault, yet he understood that guilt. he understood bakugou was hurting, too. they're both trying to be each other's safe space, trying their best to push through all those foreign emotions that are consuming them. denji might not be as helpful at this moment, but he's adamant about not entertaining those thoughts for too long. the hero needs him to step up, and he will. he will attend all the physical therapy sessions. he will take care of the heavy-duty side of the job, pick up on bakugou's active cases, patrol the streets, and let the other focus on the paperwork or solving the puzzle from the office. whatever he can do to support him through the healing journey, denji is committed wholeheartedly. as for now, he will carry a face full of tears, whimper softly under his breath, and allow himself to be utterly vulnerable under the weight of his grief. maybe they both need to do this? drop their guard and just — let it be.
denji leaned in to kiss him soon after; started with a brief touch against bakugou's cheek, and then the corner of his mouth, and another on the lips. he shifts a bit, turning his upper body to face the other before kissing him again, deeper, allowing his lover to relax his arm if he wishes to. is he hiding behind intimacy? ... maybe. however, wasn't bakugou gone for a long time? denji knew how it worked. a few hours, a few seconds ... could mean days, weeks, or even months back home. how long was the hero gone? when was the last time, in his memory, they shared a kiss? when was the last time someone got close to him? a little reminder won't hurt. denji is very careful not to touch any open wounds or his aching arm. after all, he wanted his boyfriend to feel ... good. ]
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he lifts his head to give him some space enough for his hand's invading between them, watching his skin come away wet with tears smeared across his cheeks and nose. good thing he doesn't bother explaining himself; that'd've gotten a miffed look. part of him wants to raise denji's head, look into his eyes and remove them from the shield of his bangs. but he holds back, waiting to let the other boy make that decision for himself. he doesn't expect his body to swim with confidence and assurance right now. not after having someone he cared for so much so suddenly and easily ripped away from him. it's a miracle the other boy's even got his head together as much as he does. he continues to be his source of strength. as much as he can. if it'll be of any comfort to him.]
You would've gotten sick. [can denji get sick? he's seen his boyfriend eat a lot of things... going on a sugar binge would make him hyper at worst. those other aspects when he had to put his foot down for one reason or another are becoming more rare as they two work out their life compromises between them. denji's more and more able to cut deals with the hero, and bakugou's able to encourage the hunter to accept a few more "healthy" life choices. hopefully, this trauma will begin to fade after a few weeks. he'll never be able to convince denji he won't leave. but he intends to give him day after day of good memories as long as he's here. fingers wander across his own and he curls them, lacing their digits together and brushing his fingertips over the back of denji's hands, feeling warm skin and slender bone. physical. raw. present.
they can compromise, again, one actions going forward. of course bakugou's going to be mad he has to let his boyfriend take over the heavier work. grump about not being able to drive as much. stuck doing paperwork instead of kicking villain butt. relegated to handcuffing the bad guy only after denji's beaten them to a sobbing mess. guess they'll be working together more in the kitchen too, sharing meal making in their rooms over the small collection of burners and cutting boards. that'll be nice though. making the bed's gonna suck...
he leans into the kiss once it settles on his cheek. eyes lid halfway as they gravitate around towards his mouth. finally closing when lips meet lips and he's taken back to so many times they've kissed together. sheets scuff under skin and clothes, knees clunking as denji faces him and deepens the kiss. he eases his arm to rest on his boyfriend's shoulder, his bad one remaining resting on his thigh under the care of bakugou's back of the mind. intimacy might be a shield, but it's also its own bandage. and denji's right. it's been days in the hero's world. days since he's had a kiss, been kissed, but the man he loves. only a few hours here, but so many in his mind. the half-devil knows what that's like, doesn't he. unfortunately... kissing is touch and denji is a very attractive young man. and bakugou's still a young man himself. memories and heat eagerly return to his mind, resulting in his hand curling in his boyfriend's shirt and giving him a small pull forward. if he's not stopped, bakugou's going to ease onto his back and pull denji down with him.]
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Hmm, I might ... [ unlikely, considering what he can stomach; between eating nasty kaiju meat, swallowing devils and throwing them up, and feasting on something that is more delicate in its nature. denji is not apologetic about what he had done in the past yet subtly aware he shouldn't run his mouth about it around bakugou. regardless of their closeness and the fact his boyfriend did make an effort to be accepting of the half-devil's little quirks, this might breed some unwanted doubts. in the end, he won't forget he is dating a hero. perfect standards, polished grades, top of the class, born into a successful family, and has all the support to be the new symbol of peace. he's too damn bright and golden, and denji ... loves it. the scum in him loves he somehow managed to be associated with someone so perfect and so so good. someone who is -let's be real- out of his league. so, nope. no confessions of cannibalism. it's a good thing that kabru guy is not part of their close circle, probably never spoke to bakugou either (?), so that incident in the cult will not see the daylight.
unfortunately ... they're both oh so young. without breaking their kiss, one arm supported bakugou's lower back; fingers splayed to provide balance as he guided him downward. the other hovered just above the injured arm, not quite touching but never straying too far, a silent promise of protection. the sheets wrinkled softly beneath them, the mattress sinking with their weight. denji moved with the utmost caution, tugging on the pillows to provide extra support to bakugou's head/neck, ensuring he wouldn’t have to move too much. his hands ghosted over bakugou's side, lifting a lightweight blanket with care before draping it over them, the fabric settling in gentle folds before he got himself cozy on his side of the bed. he shifted, facing his lover under the shared warmth of the blanket, eye to eye. then, back to kissing him again. sighing softly, bakugou would feel the faint touch of his tongue between their pressed lips, the way denji relaxed his jaw, and the unspoken words of 'i missed you so much' — even if it was a few hours, he still missed him. ah, it was a bit tricky here, as he didn't know where he could and couldn't reach for. where it hurts and where it doesn't. even if bakugou's major wounds are explicit, it doesn't mean his bare skin isn't aching either. it's okay. all denji desires is more closeness, more warmth ... and while he couldn't pull his lover into an embrace, mindful of his chest injury, maybe he can get away by tracing a hand over his thigh, attentive to any reaction that might illustrate discomfort.
and because they're so young, denji will take a few pauses between each kiss. not that it contributed to anything more than turning it into some sensual tease to himself. ] Do you need ... painkillers? when was your last dose?
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Right. [he doesn't trust that for a moment. denji's mouth and stomach are impervious. hunger branded in his soul not to waste something edible. fitting his devil powers include eating. though part of him wants to know everything about denji, he's aware much of his past is sordid, dark, and likely clashes hard with what bakugou feels about being a hero. best some things are left unsaid. just as there are things in the hero's past he'd rather leave personal between him and the person involved. no one ever knows 'everything' about someone else. even the people they love. only enough room for one full life in one head. pieces of others are best they can have. pieces of denji in his life. not as the dirt in an alley or the gore of some monster, but as a warm growing hero refusing to fall despite the tragedies and struggles his life throws at him. that's what bakugou focuses on in his boyfriend. who he is, what he wants, who he could be. but at the heart of it all, is denji. not chainsaw man. not a weapon or a pet. denji. the boy he took hold of his hand and held on tight. maybe he is out of his league. doesn't stop him from making his choice and hauling his ass up to stand beside him. no one gets to decide denji's worth to bakugou except bakugou. not even denji.
tried with kabru twice, both soon ignored/dropped, so ixnayed any future attemptsguess there's something to be said about meeting up with your boyfriend after what is weeks in his world but only hours in this one. bakugou rests his free hand in denji's hair, arches his back as that arm loops around his spine, and lets the other boy ease him down onto the bed once more. his injured arm slowly slides to rest flat on the sheets beside him, hopefully out of the way of potential hand or knee placements. his good one will have to make up for its missing partner, running huffle scuff through denji's hair in more heated movements as kisses turn to nigh making out while his boyfriend ease atop him. has to lift his head somewhat for those pillows to wedge under there. a hand on his side, catching a blanket to curtain them in the bed, heedless of it being well into morning by now. denji's been up without sleep for hours, hasn't he. kisses break, forehead to forehead, eyes to eyes. and back again, tilting his head to deepen those touches. tongue on his lips, inciting his mouth to open and his own slick muscle curling out and running across the surface of his boyfriend's. he knows exactly what words exist in those movements. dammit, he wants to hug him, pull him into a tight embrace, press bodily to him and soak in all those tactile physical closeness devils like so much. but he's stuck with a hovering body and a hand on his thigh. dammit... denji's gonna be responsible now?]
A few hours ago. I was in the middle of changing the bandages.
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of course he will be responsible. this is the ultimate test in his journey of having a mate, and he plans to come out of it with high scores. his boyfriend is injured, not only physically but also emotionally. going through a war can leave an endless scar, plenty of near-death experiences traumas, and at times - survival guilt. while bakugou hasn't talked about it yet, denji is certain he probably lost a few people he cared about, and on top of all that ... he almost lost his arm, and with it, he might've lost his dream of being a pro hero. the future is uncertain, will he ever regain his strength back, or is that arm will never be able to cope with the intensity of his quirk? the unknown is terrifying. bakugou, despite the calm behind his gaze, the desire to indulge in their brief intimacy and comfort his boyfriend, is probably - scared. he's just not the type to show it; whether it's pride or strength or both, denji didn't want to dismiss it. ah, it's okay if they don't talk about it, but this is still bakugou's time. his time to lean on the other, his time to be taken care of. ]
And you're not in pain? [ the agonizing type, when the meds wear off, but yeah— he assumes the hero will feel a lingering throbbing ache in the early weeks into the recovery. still careful, still conscious of their bodies, denji's gaze drifted downward. a thought perked his interest as he leaned closer, instead of targeting those lips, he went for a fading bruise on bakugou's neck. there was another over his throat, a bit darker, and this skin is fated to be extra sensitive. yet, with a tilt of his head, he lightly brushed his lips over it and another right above his collarbone. the touch is more of a whisper, as if each kiss could take away even a fraction of his pain. those were the small ones, but staring lower, with bakugou's top still unbuttoned and with his bandages exposed, the half-devil could see the real damage; the harsh discolorations bloomed along his ribs, the dried blood stains all over the coverings and the scars underneath. can he? should he ... ? kiss it. would it be soothing, or would it hurt as hell? probably painful. of course it would. ]
Shouldn't we change the bandages? We will be sleeping for a few hours ...
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alas, he can't answer any questions on why the other boy might start chewing on devils during his fights, apart from needing blood to regenerate his injuries being the obvious answer. why bother wasting time holding up the spigot for a drink, or exposing your vulnerable side to bend down and lap, when you could do damage with a chomp and regenerate simultaneously? maybe he should tell denji about that yakuza member who's quirk was eating things... he might be intrigued by it. or that straight-jacket freak who could attack by elongating his teeth to fucking ridiculous size and shapes. gross. bakugo used to carry some little packets of his blood on him when teamed up with denji during kaiju fights, but he stopped doing that after the disastrous vegas mission, aware of denji's feelings about hurting him in the desert. it hasn't been a problem since, though they did have that talk about how to supplement that in a battle. raw meat or blood packets.
oy, don't talk about emotional injury unless you want to see bakugou get growly. does he consider himself emotionally injured? no, though he unconsciously bears scars of war in his mind and heart as well as on his flesh. he endured war and experienced it, but refuses to let the battle cripple him in any way. a hero doesn't falter in fear or ptsd flashes! (this from the guy who still tenses up if someone grabs him by the nape out of nowhere -- thanks, fucking bacon face.) if anything lingers after the war, it's a quiet somber over not being able to save everyone. he didn't have a final boss he emotionally resonated with like the other three, and yet, he saw how sorrowful midoriya, todoroki, and uraraka were over their inability to save the villains they tried their hardest to reach. he'll eventually talk to denji about these things. though they lost plenty of heroes and villains in the war, miraculously, his classmates and teachers all made it through. though midnight's death will forever affect him. as for his arm, well dammit, he's getting the fucker back! even if physical therapy drags him through hell to reach it! there's time to think about his unknown future and his fear later. denji will probably need to do some digging to reach that topic.]
Not right now. [which is probably telling. aching happens when he pain meds wear off. throbbing, burning, itching, freezing, whatever the fuck his frayed nerves feel like feeling under his skin. breaking his bones in so many places, having his muscles ripped apart, his flesh half peeled off from the torquing, his arm went through a lot. but the doctors did their damnest and its shape was salvaged. these ugly scars and weaknesses will be the payment for quite some time. bakugou drops his head to the side, breath catching as denji latches onto the slope of his neck. he feels no pain now. only denji. his boyfriend, his warm body, his strong form, his sucking drag and sharp teeth. leaving marks already. on his skin that's already mottled from before. tension pulls at his body, free arm wrapping around denji's shoulders in a desperate grab that sees his fingers digging into the other boy's shoulder blade as he works on his collarbone next. dammit, he's really trying to rile him up, and it's working. gentle kisses to heady sucks. but when he reaches below his collar, hovering above the repaired damage of his chest and sternum... reality finally takes its due and bakugou drops his head on the pillow.
dammit. downstairs is working just fine! why's denji gonna focus on his fucked-up upstairs?! ... fuck.]
If you got some around here, fine. [might as well finish what was started.]
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and the part about dying. when/if denji finds out about that, he'd be more focused on bakugou. considering he experienced dying in every gruesome method possible- it's safe to say he knew how utterly traumatizing it is. the pain, the fear, the slow descent into darkness, and the unknown of what will happen next. For devils, it might be child's play, but for someone who is human, flesh and soul, bakugou surely wouldn't brush it off as another monday. then again, he had a feeling bakugou isn't the type to get too personal about certain matters, often choosing to deal with it on his own, it's less of the hero faking a brave face and more of a genuine dismissal of matters he cannot control. it happened. why dwell on it? he's alive. move on. well, denji hopes that's not the case. while he didn't know the remedy to heal such anxieties, he's certain dismissing them is not an option either. since he's the one in charge, leading the recovery mission, he decided to give the hero a week or so to calm down before cornering him. yeah, be ready for that one, babe.
as for marking his lover, it was an honest error from his end, one he should have apologized for but didn't. after all, denji was attentive to the other, mindful of every shift or ease in bakugou's features, searching for any inkling of discomfort with every move. if those small hickeys didn't hurt him, then it's fine. he's not about to treat his boyfriend as frail. even when mild frustrations slip in, watching the way his head dropped back against the pillow, blinking slowly with his head tipped to the side. what's up with that? no idea. ]
Okay. I'll change 'em. [ he knew he had a first aid medical kit somewhere in his cluttered room, something he decided to include a few months after they started getting cozy with each other, adopting a joint night routine that involved— well, some patching up. both their jobs are not easy; between fighting kaiju and criminals alike, bakugou would need a little attention after an exhausting shift. ah, he's thinking about whether he had enough bandages to attend to all those wounds. when was the last time he checked if it required some restock? he's thinking about it, seemingly distracted, before denji pulled away; his hands pressed against the mattress on bakugou's sides, muscles tensing as he gradually pushed himself up. the fabric of the blanket over him was clinging to him for a fleeting moment before it relented, sliding down the curve of his back in a lazy descent.
just when denji gives the impression of leaving the bed to fetch the medical supplies, he ends up fiddling with bakugou's pants instead. he hooks his fingers on the hem, securing his waistline before tugging down. he then gestures for the other boy to arch his back a bit, allowing him to decide how far he can comply and lift his hips without triggering any ache. on any other day, denji would manhandle him, but that's off-limits until full recovery. he doesn't plan to strip him off completely, too much effort, just enough skin for denji to bend over, curl his fingers around his lover's cock, and - well, continue his string of soft, light kisses along his length, up to the tip; breath warm, cheeks flustered. ]
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what's up with that? mostly because he's got a damn boner now and denji's talking about changing his bandages. dismissing his death is his proud flippant way of focusing on something more important: his life. very much an "i survived, bitches" person rather than lying in bed at night reflecting on a trauma he can't even remember. pain, drive, impact, darkness... and suddenly he was standing up again, knowing he had to move. he doesn't "remember" his own death. who the fuck does? so why dwell on it. when he can dwell instead on trying not to think about denji's lips on his skin, memories of his hands sliding between his legs, a warm breath on his nape, a strong chest pressing to his back, hips slotting with his own, a now-familiar girth and length filling him- FUCKING HELL!
so much for making it go away. flopping on the bed, he cussed under his breath and glares death at the ceiling. ceiling, now that denji's head's not in the way. frustration boils under his skin. he'd rather be looking at denji's pretty face than the stupid lines and gleams of his bedroom roof. these bastards couldn't pull him back just a few minutes later when the doctors were done redoing his dressings, so he could focus on his boyfriend rather than getting these damn scraps taken off again? ... why's denji not getting off the bed? so ready to glare at him as he putzes around the room, bakugou completely misses the part where those strong legs never left the bed itself. he tugs his head up from the pillow, eyes finding his boyfriend perched on his knees between his legs instead. fuck, he did that arched spine temptation where the sheet flows down his back to pool erotic around his waist on purpose!
fingers grip at his pants and bakugou growls in relief, surprise, and vexation. he curls his fingers in the bedding beside him, teeth gritting and muscles pulling taut as his boyfriend curls into his pants' rim and tugs down. abdominal definitions crunch on his core as he lifts his hips, using his heels and calves to arch his thighs and waist so denji can work his pants down. fuck, he'll take this if the half-devil's going for a compromise. his lower body's not in any rough shape. maybe some bruises from tumbling around, but those are mostly faded. until he's got his pants worked down to that uncomfortable level of his thighs. guh, he hates that feeling... which is completely lost once denji's warm breath ghosts over his tip and fingers wrap around his aching arousal. a half-choked groan of his lover's name wrangles from his throat, good arm lifting to run his fingers down his own face. fuck. even small kisses like that are intense thanks to the time passed between then and now. knees bend outward, spreading his legs as much as he can with his pants trapping his upper thighs. denji's gonna steal his breath like this.]
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... so why now? why couldn't he leave bakugou to rest? why didn't he get up to change the old, bloodied bandages that were fated to stain the sheets? why? hmm, because it's been a while, hasn't it? to katsuki. he never thought to ask if he had a love interest back home, someone to keep his bed warm and dick wet even if they were indulged in an active war. ok, he doubts the hero had the time to exchange kisses and spit while trying to survive. another thought that perked denji's interest was the disappearance of the scar he left on bakugou during the vegas mission, almost as if he had never been in this city before. while lilith can restore their memories, they can't do much about the physical aspect of their travels. he wonders if - hey, maybe it's a silly thought- he wonders if bakugou is a virgin again. somehow? he did say his time with denji was his first, didn't he? was it a wild idea? maybe. but intriguing, regardless.
it might explain why the half-devil didn't bother to wait for a full recovery and was adamant about leaving his mark on the other boy immediately. well, while being mindful of his injuries, of course. which explains why denji is more patient, allowing the other to shift into a more comfortable position against the bed while slowly working his fingers and seeking some friction, kissing, and nuzzling into his arousal. soon after, bakugou would feel the pressure from his lips and his tongue, followed by the cool, slick spit sliding down his shaft. fuck, he's eager already, breath hot and heavy. denji knew he was getting a little too excited himself, yet he didn't plan to pay much attention to it. he hums and pulls up so he can play with the head, suckling on it and swirling his tongue over it, all the while, his hand pressed along bakugou's cock, jerking him off — not too fast, but certainly adopting a steady rhythm, fingers messy.
back to kissing, turning his head to brush his lips against his inner thigh, shifting a bit so he could help keep bakugou's knees propped up; leaving behind more love bites over the bare, clear skin. his lashes lower, cheeks burning - fuck, that boy's skin is too damn soft, if only he could sink his teeth a little harder as he'd always do. ugh. denji then tilts his head to the other side and slows his hand down so he can secure his wet lips over the tip, the faintest brush of sharp teeth against the sensitive flesh, a sensation that could make anyone a bit uncomfortable. and then, with ease, denji takes in the hero's cock inside his hot mouth, going lower, and lower ... without a hint of a gag reflex on sight. ]
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ask him if he's a virgin and he'll promptly punt him right in his stupid face. the answer is yes if we don't accept the idea a bunch of handsome teen boys living in close proximity with each other would end up messing around with each other, and yes since his body technically reset to canon level, and no if you wanna say he has all the memories of emotional and physical reactions to denji taking his virginity (and vice versa) once more held in glowing red and gold light inside his head.
fuck, he wriggles on the bed slightly, trying to keep his motions limited to hips and lower, his good arms, and his head. wanting denji to stop fucking around and pull his damn pants off completely so he's not stuck with his legs trapped in the hem, knees twitching each time he tries to instinctively spread his legs around his boyfriend's strong chest and narrow hips. each kissing run along the side, hot breath ghosting over his shaft, fingers playing along the seam of his sac, cheek nuzzling into the now-leaking tip of his cock leaving a wet smear on denji's skin. all but tossing his head to the side with a snarling cuss when saliva drips and oozes cool slick hot onto his glans and runs down his shaft soon enough. fuck, he's salivating all over his dick and katsuki wants to grab his head and shove it right down onto himself. resisting, instead fisting the sheets and groaning as his boyfriend eases his head up to the tip once more and torments him with playful suckling and circling tongue, simultaneously fluting his fingertips up and down his now-glistening length. he's being so damn slow with it too-!!
bakugo whips his head to the front, snarling breathlessly down the length of his damaged chest when denji kisses the inside of his thigh. he can only get his knees partially up before the dynaband of his sweats' hem catches on the half-devil's chest, pinning his ripcord to his sternum and holding the hero's legs down at a certain level. the guy's basically lying between his thighs as it is and only bothered those pants down to middle thigh. bastard, lounging down there with his lashes long and his cheeks covered in rouge and his tawny eyes almost glowing behind that shaggy covering of sandy hair... he missed him. he missed him so damn much. only now remembering it clearly. until denji sets his mouth on katsuki's tip and closes his lips around it. soft and warm suddenly giving way to sharp white points that would make most people recoil and shout, but has the other boy panting in pleasure, finally ripping his hand from the sheets and fisting into his boyfriend's hair instead, head falling back on the pillow and legs struggling against their confines as precum lances onto denji's tongue. yeah, so apparently he's still got that kink for denji's teeth. fuck off. good to know his lover hasn't regained his gag reflex in the past few hours.]
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riding high on instinct and impulse, working his wet mouth as he slid his stretched lips along his lover's dick in shallower, short thrusts, making sure that sensitive tip gets a proper feel of the warmth of the back of his throat; again, not a single cough and gag, just pure bliss. eyes closed, denji took him in deeper, moving his hand in sync with his head, humming appreciatively while his tongue painted hot swirls around the hero's arousal. as for his teeth? yeah, he will always be careful with those fuckers, but it didn't mean bakugou wouldn't feel them. the occasional, light touch along his length; a fleeting sting just before retreat. and at some point, as denji paused very briefly to swallow the mess pooling inside his mouth, the pressure lingered for just a second longer, letting the points rest against flesh, feeling the pulse and throb beneath. there was no teasing, talking, or goofing around this time— it was intense, way too eager for a tease, and denji didn't want to even entertain another pause after the first one. he kept sucking, licking, and stroking his lover with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. the fact he's actively ignoring bakugou's silent demand to free his legs is something. no, he didn't plan to assist him with that, favoring restricting that boy this time. for his safety, at first, and for denji's pleasure, second. speaking of pleasure - it's getting a bit too intense. for himself.
while it was merely a few hours in the half-devil's timeline, as bakugou hasn't been out of the picture for too long, he also missed him. he can't explain the fucking logic behind it, but everything about this felt like they'd been weeks apart for some reason. so it's to no one surprise he was painfully hard already, and if it was any other day, he'd probably go for more. fuck. taking him in deeper, denji muffled a groan against his full mouth, hollowing his cheeks a bit. he caught his breath, not missing a beat as his fingers took over, leaning back with reddened lips as he popped them off bakugou's cock, wet and slick, smeared with the leaking pre-cum all over. a short retreat, they caught each other's gaze for a second, denji even smiled - he dares to do with those lips and teeth bared. yeah, he missed this handsome face.
the sounds he's making now, both unintentional thanks to the drool and the ones full of aroused need forming in the back of his throat, are obscene. the room is too quiet to mask them, but nothing about their act is modest, to begin with, or moral. whenever he feels bakugou attempt to shift or squirm under him, denji is careful to keep him in place, mindful of his injuries even when improper thoughts are getting too loud in his head. "he can take it." ... "he's a hero and trained to handle any amount of pain." ... "maybe if you ask nicely, bakugou would agree!"
yeah, the recovery journey will be interesting ... ]