[ 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 ... ]
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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 ... ]