[ he kept those arms still, smile steady and not a hint of doubt on sight. the middle finger is expected, and it made his lips curl up some more and kept reaching out for him despite the hesitation behind bakugou's scowl. he won't stop until he hears a solid 'no' but luckily the hero didn't keep him waiting for long, and that's when it started getting — interesting.
bakugou complied, and he watched him step closer, one arm holding into him before his own could do anything. he found himself thinking (his brain is truly working overtime tonight. fucking hell), but shut it off before the thoughts had any influence on him, he would leave that for later. denji knows they will harass him when there's nothing around him but silence, and that's fine. other priorities took the lead and he finally relaxed, moving his arms around a foreign body, far too callous unlike nayuta and pochita's more delicate frame. he lowers his head so he could rest it against bakugou's; one arm curled around his shoulders, and the other settled on the center of his back, trapping him into the embrace — and it was a strong one from the start, firm, bodies pressed against each other.
there is a sense of familiarity in it ... as if it wasn't their first time at all. as if denji knew where to position his arms, comfortable with the other's body against his own. a hug between old friends. it's subtle, the way denji's breathing slowed down until his chest raised and fell in a quiet sigh. it lingered for a bit, and he closed his eyes, taking in another inhale before he urged himself not to push his luck. he was careful with his hands, more careful with his footing, careful not to make it too invasive. well, that was the plan. he likes to believe he did just fine to tame his curiosity while respecting bakugou's boundaries until it was time to break it off— and that's when he relaxed his arms, unmindful of the manner his hands slipped lower and traced along bakugou's, hmm, oddly slim waist before he let him go.
was it intentional? honestly, no. even denji didn't expect himself to do it but he's certainly had no fucking problem staring the other down with an inappropriately relaxed half-smile. an expression that was hard to read, because he wasn't fucking thinking about anything, head empty. aside from the simple, single-brain cell realization of being ... intrigued. ]
Good night, Katsuki. This is, without any doubt, the best date I ever had.
[ he's not asking the hero to return the gesture, he's fine with anything coming his way from the long list of 'chainsaw' related nicknames. denji is just that pleased.
[interesting. it's not the word he would have used to describe the feeling. awkward is more like it... and yet, bakugou can't find it in himself to hate the feeling. this is the young man who dodges and yells at his classmates' attempts to smack christmas sweaters or hats on his head during the holiday, who even arches and ducks out of his own mother and father's attempts to hug him as he headed off to the new dorms before a national war. and yet, denji's embracing him and bakugou... he's certainly not pushing him off. obviously, since he was the one who accepted the invitation and implemented the embrace.
he'll be thinking about this later. the feeling of denji's body against his own. strong muscle on his chest, the pleasant v of a well-formed torso beneath his arm, solid shoulders and warmth radiating from the half-devil's core he hasn't felt anywhere else. the truly oddest part is when denji simply drops his head against bakugou's own. there's a different between just putting your arms around someone... and resting your damn head against theirs. yet the half-devil's doing just that. sandy blonde hair nuzzling into spiky ashen blonde, ears brushing together as more than just chest and arms touch in this little connected moment. it's not shoulders brushing side by side on the couch, or occasionally kicking at each other's feet to be brats. this is a quiet, warm, momentary entrapment of an embrace, with one of denji's arms around his shoulders, the other curled at the diamond of his back. strong, solid, firm, warm, pressed together, two young men in a strange world taking comfort in each other. and perhaps a bit more.
nostalgic? the briefest of gossamer glimmers in such a shade floats through. as if he's felt this before. denji's embrace. his arms, his head, his breath, his heartbeat against his own. it should be weird or even disturbing, and yet it's only comforting. bakugou's arms settle in a position that he feels is best, curled round denji's shoulder blades and hip. weird as fuck, yet pleasant. as if the embrace was an invitation to take a snooze right here in these strong arms. a gentle breath, a nigh-silent sigh, and then denji's finally relaxing his arms as bakugou lowers his own. his face... might be a bit pink, but damn if he's ever going to acknowledge that! hands fall away, drift down his back, and slide right over his waist in a manner bakugou's suddenly not sure if intentional or accidental. his shoulders tense, eyes widening, the idea to knee denji in the nuts flickering in his mind. but none of that goes anywhere as he finds himself accepting even that touch. wasn't like he hadn't been paying attention to the definitions beneath denji's shirt. even where that ripcord dangled between his pecs.
maybe a good thing they step back and bakugou can find something very interesting with the wall clock to glare at. time, right, look at the time and not at denji for a few seconds. before finally looking back at him, at that cloud-soft half-smile, all relaxed and essentially blank-slate except for a good feeling. fucking doe-eyed sap. bakugou gives him a flat look. good thing he's used to denji being a little weird from time to time? and he's not... complaining about it.]
Tch. It better stay that way, Denji. Until I top it myself. [right, because being in contest with yourself is a thing to do on dates. bakugou is only minorly miffed at denji using his given name, but feels the other boy earned it. with one last look, he decides that's enough and heads past the half-devil, going to the stairs to make for his room. there's a lot to think about and he'd rather do that alone before going to sleep. the second date will be in his mind throughout the week; that's for sure.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
bakugou complied, and he watched him step closer, one arm holding into him before his own could do anything. he found himself thinking (his brain is truly working overtime tonight. fucking hell), but shut it off before the thoughts had any influence on him, he would leave that for later. denji knows they will harass him when there's nothing around him but silence, and that's fine. other priorities took the lead and he finally relaxed, moving his arms around a foreign body, far too callous unlike nayuta and pochita's more delicate frame. he lowers his head so he could rest it against bakugou's; one arm curled around his shoulders, and the other settled on the center of his back, trapping him into the embrace — and it was a strong one from the start, firm, bodies pressed against each other.
there is a sense of familiarity in it ... as if it wasn't their first time at all. as if denji knew where to position his arms, comfortable with the other's body against his own. a hug between old friends. it's subtle, the way denji's breathing slowed down until his chest raised and fell in a quiet sigh. it lingered for a bit, and he closed his eyes, taking in another inhale before he urged himself not to push his luck. he was careful with his hands, more careful with his footing, careful not to make it too invasive. well, that was the plan. he likes to believe he did just fine to tame his curiosity while respecting bakugou's boundaries until it was time to break it off— and that's when he relaxed his arms, unmindful of the manner his hands slipped lower and traced along bakugou's, hmm, oddly slim waist before he let him go.
was it intentional? honestly, no. even denji didn't expect himself to do it but he's certainly had no fucking problem staring the other down with an inappropriately relaxed half-smile. an expression that was hard to read, because he wasn't fucking thinking about anything, head empty. aside from the simple, single-brain cell realization of being ... intrigued. ]
Good night, Katsuki. This is, without any doubt, the best date I ever had.
[ he's not asking the hero to return the gesture, he's fine with anything coming his way from the long list of 'chainsaw' related nicknames. denji is just that pleased.
he's looking forward to the next one, for sure. ]
no subject
he'll be thinking about this later. the feeling of denji's body against his own. strong muscle on his chest, the pleasant v of a well-formed torso beneath his arm, solid shoulders and warmth radiating from the half-devil's core he hasn't felt anywhere else. the truly oddest part is when denji simply drops his head against bakugou's own. there's a different between just putting your arms around someone... and resting your damn head against theirs. yet the half-devil's doing just that. sandy blonde hair nuzzling into spiky ashen blonde, ears brushing together as more than just chest and arms touch in this little connected moment. it's not shoulders brushing side by side on the couch, or occasionally kicking at each other's feet to be brats. this is a quiet, warm, momentary entrapment of an embrace, with one of denji's arms around his shoulders, the other curled at the diamond of his back. strong, solid, firm, warm, pressed together, two young men in a strange world taking comfort in each other. and perhaps a bit more.
nostalgic? the briefest of gossamer glimmers in such a shade floats through. as if he's felt this before. denji's embrace. his arms, his head, his breath, his heartbeat against his own. it should be weird or even disturbing, and yet it's only comforting. bakugou's arms settle in a position that he feels is best, curled round denji's shoulder blades and hip. weird as fuck, yet pleasant. as if the embrace was an invitation to take a snooze right here in these strong arms. a gentle breath, a nigh-silent sigh, and then denji's finally relaxing his arms as bakugou lowers his own. his face... might be a bit pink, but damn if he's ever going to acknowledge that! hands fall away, drift down his back, and slide right over his waist in a manner bakugou's suddenly not sure if intentional or accidental. his shoulders tense, eyes widening, the idea to knee denji in the nuts flickering in his mind. but none of that goes anywhere as he finds himself accepting even that touch. wasn't like he hadn't been paying attention to the definitions beneath denji's shirt. even where that ripcord dangled between his pecs.
maybe a good thing they step back and bakugou can find something very interesting with the wall clock to glare at. time, right, look at the time and not at denji for a few seconds. before finally looking back at him, at that cloud-soft half-smile, all relaxed and essentially blank-slate except for a good feeling. fucking doe-eyed sap. bakugou gives him a flat look. good thing he's used to denji being a little weird from time to time? and he's not... complaining about it.]
Tch. It better stay that way, Denji. Until I top it myself. [right, because being in contest with yourself is a thing to do on dates. bakugou is only minorly miffed at denji using his given name, but feels the other boy earned it. with one last look, he decides that's enough and heads past the half-devil, going to the stairs to make for his room. there's a lot to think about and he'd rather do that alone before going to sleep. the second date will be in his mind throughout the week; that's for sure.]