[ denji never really understood what it meant to be drawn to someone in a way that made his whole body respond before his mind could catch up, not in a sense of him chasing hollow indulgence, but to be genuinely bewitched by it. with bakugou, it wasn’t about fear or power in the usual sense— it was something heavier, more charming. every time bakugou’s tone turned a bit sensual, every time his movements carried that quiet confidence, denji found himself getting pulled in. it wasn’t weakness, not exactly. it was as if his body had learned to recognize it as control and crave it, but this time, without the danger that had once come with it. every act of obedience back then came from fear of losing what little affection he thought he had. it was survival disguised as devotion. all fake and empty.
but the hero wasn’t like that. his influence over denji didn’t come from wanting to break him— no, nothing like that. it's impossible to ignore, but never cruel. the half-devil felt safe around it, safe enough to let that part of himself surface again, the one that wanted to surrender, to stop feeling ashamed that he's falling into old habits, to accept that in a very fucked up way he is into it. maybe that's okay. with bakugou it's okay, isn't it? that safety only made it worse, or better, depending on how he looked at it. because since he knew his boyfriend would never ever take advantage of it, the more he wanted to give in, to lose himself in it. it scared him sometimes, how much he wanted it. how much he wanted him. but there was a strange kind of peace in that pull, a calm hidden inside the chaos. for once, being submissive didn’t feel like being used. it felt like being seen.
and the young hero knew exactly how to get him riled up. how to talk to him, how to move around him, how to press all the right nerves without even touching him. sometimes it was just a look, sometimes a sharp tone that sounded like a challenge. denji could feel it pulling him in every time, that mix of restlessness and thrill that made him gasp for air. bakugou didn’t toy with him; he just understood him in a way that felt dangerous and exhilarating all at once. he knew where to touch, to kiss, to tease - he knew how their bodies would twist and fit against each other; almost every shift triggered a spark that would send shivers down his spine, even in this tight space, bakugou didn't miss a beat. ]
Please, please, please ... [ barely a whisper, yet desperate. his neck arched, exposing the sharp line of his jaw as his head tilted all the way back, welcoming the hot brush of bakugou's tongue over his sensitive skin. his throat moved with a heavy swallow, the rise of his adam’s apple catching the faint light that filtered in from the morning light outside. his hair, a mess of pale curls, pressed against the cold glass behind him. a few strands flattened, others curling tighter against the moisture collecting there. his breath came out hot and uneven, the mist blooming and fading with each puff. through it, the blurred colors of the city passed by like streaks of fading fire. and then, he tensed, gasping. ah, he recognized the way he's positioning himself; the anticipation is killing him. not even a deep exhale managed to calm denji's nerves. the lashes trembled once, twice, before the eyes slipped half-shut, pupils drifting upward - wait, that hurts. it hurts. they kiss again, it's slower yet more intense. the press of their lips lingered, mixed with heavy breathing, a sharp touch of teeth here and there. his tight muscles ache with another push. it hurts, hurts, hurts. his fingers never left bakugou's hair, kneading into the roots, the motion almost frantic. each pulse of pain drew another tug, the spiky strands slipping and catching around the half-devil's fingers. it's a mess. and, 'pop'. the pain burned at the edges, radiating outward until it was all he could feel. but somewhere in the middle of that intensity, something shifted. the line blurred. the ache twisted into something that made his body shudder instead of recoil.
oh .... it hurts. ♥
that's when his jaw slacked; it spread slowly, thick and earthy in a way that clung to the back of the throat. he lets go of bakugou's tongue, sharp teeth detaching from the fragile piece of flesh they latched on, now covered with fresh blood. again, it was a shallow wound, on the surface and nothing too deep, and it was an innocent mistake this time. honestly. did denji seem sorry? he truly is, as he 'cleaned' every smudge of red from his lover's open mouth, cautious of the small drop that slipped between their kiss, down bakugou's chin, catching it before it could get away. he wanted bakugou's eyes to focus on his own, to ignore the way his legs trembled, a fleeting quiver that ran through the muscles with every shift of those hips. he didn't want to give his boyfriend any reason to stop or go easy on him. his breath caught in short bursts that barely filled his lungs. his chest rose and fell too quickly, each inhale shallow, as if the air itself couldn’t keep up with him. heat rushed across his face, coloring his skin in uneven shades. he dares to push back, grinding his hips and squirming under bakugou's weight, and fuck! the sound that threatened to escape stayed trapped behind clenched teeth, swallowed down with a shaky exhale. it was the look of someone completely caught off guard by what they were experiencing, the kind of expression that didn’t know where pain ended and pleasure began. drunk with lust, a smile that's crooked and oh-so lovesick. no point in hiding it. it's too obvious. bakugou knew from the way those muscles squeezed him with no mercy, unwilling to relax and loosen up. a sane person would acknowledge he still needs more time, more prep, more patience.
the whisper carried a strange warmth, tender yet offbeat. ] Oh, this is gonna be sooooo good ...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
but the hero wasn’t like that. his influence over denji didn’t come from wanting to break him— no, nothing like that. it's impossible to ignore, but never cruel. the half-devil felt safe around it, safe enough to let that part of himself surface again, the one that wanted to surrender, to stop feeling ashamed that he's falling into old habits, to accept that in a very fucked up way he is into it. maybe that's okay. with bakugou it's okay, isn't it? that safety only made it worse, or better, depending on how he looked at it. because since he knew his boyfriend would never ever take advantage of it, the more he wanted to give in, to lose himself in it. it scared him sometimes, how much he wanted it. how much he wanted him. but there was a strange kind of peace in that pull, a calm hidden inside the chaos. for once, being submissive didn’t feel like being used. it felt like being seen.
and the young hero knew exactly how to get him riled up. how to talk to him, how to move around him, how to press all the right nerves without even touching him. sometimes it was just a look, sometimes a sharp tone that sounded like a challenge. denji could feel it pulling him in every time, that mix of restlessness and thrill that made him gasp for air. bakugou didn’t toy with him; he just understood him in a way that felt dangerous and exhilarating all at once. he knew where to touch, to kiss, to tease - he knew how their bodies would twist and fit against each other; almost every shift triggered a spark that would send shivers down his spine, even in this tight space, bakugou didn't miss a beat. ]
Please, please, please ... [ barely a whisper, yet desperate. his neck arched, exposing the sharp line of his jaw as his head tilted all the way back, welcoming the hot brush of bakugou's tongue over his sensitive skin. his throat moved with a heavy swallow, the rise of his adam’s apple catching the faint light that filtered in from the morning light outside. his hair, a mess of pale curls, pressed against the cold glass behind him. a few strands flattened, others curling tighter against the moisture collecting there. his breath came out hot and uneven, the mist blooming and fading with each puff. through it, the blurred colors of the city passed by like streaks of fading fire. and then, he tensed, gasping. ah, he recognized the way he's positioning himself; the anticipation is killing him. not even a deep exhale managed to calm denji's nerves. the lashes trembled once, twice, before the eyes slipped half-shut, pupils drifting upward - wait, that hurts. it hurts. they kiss again, it's slower yet more intense. the press of their lips lingered, mixed with heavy breathing, a sharp touch of teeth here and there. his tight muscles ache with another push. it hurts, hurts, hurts. his fingers never left bakugou's hair, kneading into the roots, the motion almost frantic. each pulse of pain drew another tug, the spiky strands slipping and catching around the half-devil's fingers. it's a mess. and, 'pop'. the pain burned at the edges, radiating outward until it was all he could feel. but somewhere in the middle of that intensity, something shifted. the line blurred. the ache twisted into something that made his body shudder instead of recoil.
oh .... it hurts. ♥
that's when his jaw slacked; it spread slowly, thick and earthy in a way that clung to the back of the throat. he lets go of bakugou's tongue, sharp teeth detaching from the fragile piece of flesh they latched on, now covered with fresh blood. again, it was a shallow wound, on the surface and nothing too deep, and it was an innocent mistake this time. honestly. did denji seem sorry? he truly is, as he 'cleaned' every smudge of red from his lover's open mouth, cautious of the small drop that slipped between their kiss, down bakugou's chin, catching it before it could get away. he wanted bakugou's eyes to focus on his own, to ignore the way his legs trembled, a fleeting quiver that ran through the muscles with every shift of those hips. he didn't want to give his boyfriend any reason to stop or go easy on him. his breath caught in short bursts that barely filled his lungs. his chest rose and fell too quickly, each inhale shallow, as if the air itself couldn’t keep up with him. heat rushed across his face, coloring his skin in uneven shades. he dares to push back, grinding his hips and squirming under bakugou's weight, and fuck! the sound that threatened to escape stayed trapped behind clenched teeth, swallowed down with a shaky exhale. it was the look of someone completely caught off guard by what they were experiencing, the kind of expression that didn’t know where pain ended and pleasure began. drunk with lust, a smile that's crooked and oh-so lovesick. no point in hiding it. it's too obvious. bakugou knew from the way those muscles squeezed him with no mercy, unwilling to relax and loosen up. a sane person would acknowledge he still needs more time, more prep, more patience.
the whisper carried a strange warmth, tender yet offbeat. ] Oh, this is gonna be sooooo good ...