I don't want a simple life. [bakugou looks out at the waters, eyes focused and tone quiet. they both come from too divergent lives to understand each other's thoughts on this. a simple life is heaven for denji, someone who never had anything simple as he grew up. while a simple life for someone like bakugou is dull and boring, having had everything he wanted during his childhood. one of their incompatible characteristics. but he's accepted that a long time ago, letting him admit such a contrary opinion while still biting at his lover's earn and earning himself a flush, breath catch, and squirm. there's nothing he can do to alleviate his boyfriend's fears and anxieties. everyone has to content with themselves as their own enemies.
what he can do is provide him with support, someone to look up to and come back to as many times as he needs to rest and recover. bakugou settles his chin on denji's shoulder again, resting his cheek close to the other boy's as he takes in his warmth. broad shoulders. beating heart. rise and fall of silent breaths. a very real and alive young man he wants to stay next to so many times.]
Come on. Let's get up. [it's not doing denji any good to sit here and stew in his own conflict. bakugou might have matured, but he's not fond of sitting here listening to someone complain about shit or be down on themselves. there's something to do, something they could do to address whatever the hell's bothering the other person. suck it up, get it together, stop complaining, find something to make yourself worry less. if he felt weak, they can do something to get stronger. if he felt slow, they can work on helping him get faster. bakugou isn't gonna let his fears about the unknown paralyze him from moving forward. he likes to punch his shitty fears in the face and trample them to the ground until they know he's the one who owns them. not the other way around.
a hand captures his own and brings it to denji's lips. he curls his fingers around his boyfriend's, shifting his hand to gently move it in slow rotations, encouraging each kiss to touch a different part of his hand. first knuckle, fourth, back, middle finger, mapping out the contours of denji's mouth. unlike the boy in his lap, bakugou isn't afraid this would be the last they speak to each other. there's far too many examples in the past of them getting taken and still coming back. living life with "what if" hanging over your head's a shit way to live.] ... I always like your mouth.
no subject
what he can do is provide him with support, someone to look up to and come back to as many times as he needs to rest and recover. bakugou settles his chin on denji's shoulder again, resting his cheek close to the other boy's as he takes in his warmth. broad shoulders. beating heart. rise and fall of silent breaths. a very real and alive young man he wants to stay next to so many times.]
Come on. Let's get up. [it's not doing denji any good to sit here and stew in his own conflict. bakugou might have matured, but he's not fond of sitting here listening to someone complain about shit or be down on themselves. there's something to do, something they could do to address whatever the hell's bothering the other person. suck it up, get it together, stop complaining, find something to make yourself worry less. if he felt weak, they can do something to get stronger. if he felt slow, they can work on helping him get faster. bakugou isn't gonna let his fears about the unknown paralyze him from moving forward. he likes to punch his shitty fears in the face and trample them to the ground until they know he's the one who owns them. not the other way around.
a hand captures his own and brings it to denji's lips. he curls his fingers around his boyfriend's, shifting his hand to gently move it in slow rotations, encouraging each kiss to touch a different part of his hand. first knuckle, fourth, back, middle finger, mapping out the contours of denji's mouth. unlike the boy in his lap, bakugou isn't afraid this would be the last they speak to each other. there's far too many examples in the past of them getting taken and still coming back. living life with "what if" hanging over your head's a shit way to live.] ... I always like your mouth.