You can't spell 'cheese' without EEE

wow sorry this took almost a month

Nitroglycerin is a vasodilator. It's a quick-acting medication for angina, a symptom of CAD. All this means nitroglycerin lowers blood pressure and expands the blood vessels to promote bloodflow.

We can see in Bakugo's parents that neither of them have adaptations against their own Quirks. Mitsuki's glycerin absorbs back into her skin, giving her a flawless complexion. We don't know much about Masaru's Quirk, but he seems to not use it often.

(An interesting headcanon I saw in a fic was that Masaru actually is poisoned by his own acid reabsorbing into the bloodstream, incapacitating him mentally and making him a danger to himself and others during the summer.)

So, genetically, Bakugo is susceptible to the effects of nitroglycerin from his own Quirk. Even with his skin functioning as a barrier, think of all the nitroglycerin he's reabsorbing/ingesting, especially during the summer months. And then there's that Team-Up Missions manga special, where the very first mission involves a civilian who's being poisoned by his own Quirk and needs to use it in order to stay alive. Bakugo plays a large role in offering relief to the civilian--he's almost understanding in a way we rarely see. This empathy with the so called "villain" makes me think he may have some of his own experience getting poisoned by his own body.

The human body releases about a litre of sweat a day, which evaporates instantly (so pretty unnoticeable). But this can increase up to ten litres a day depending on exercise, temperatures, and other factors. Even assuming his sweat is a diluted form of nitroglycerin (but not that diluted, for his Quirk to produce such large explosions), Bakugo is probably suffering from incredibly low blood pressure. Bakugo's a loud, pretty angry guy. This much we know. And what happens when you're angry? Your blood pressure elevates. This idea of Bakugo suffering from low blood pressure combated by his anger issues is supported by his apparent lack of balance at Ground Beta after the Kamino Incident, a period of time where he spent most of his time considerably not angry. You can also see in several panels that he's also suffering from blurred vision, pale and clammy skin, and other symptoms of hypotension.

But in the epilogue, these effects seem to be noticeably lessened despite Bakugo's considerably calmer demeanor. My guess is Edgeshot did something in Bakugo's heart to make it larger or stronger to combat this hypotension.

Her mouth sings into the wound, teeth—serrated moissanite, 1.2 carats and flawless, you had noted earlier when they clicked against your own in crumbling dessert—cutting into the glittering skeleton. Like chisel, she etches away with her canine. The precious stone (perceived such, at least) gives into the scraping like tempered chocolate. Her mouth sings into the wound, and—ah, the song, I might mention yet. It's a sister to the one on your neck, and it's rather sweet even if the sound is breathy and lacks strength; but it matters little, for it is only your ears that can discern such fine impurities in resonance. With crystal as its medium it echoes into the hollows of your soul and fills them whole with elegy for those things of innocence, of passion, of grandeur, of pasts, of homes, of futures, of places not trapped in kind limbo.

Blind to the road and reason, your mouth lunges for the glittering riches and your canines puncture deep enough to break the skin and rock. You spit out the flesh—tasting bitter of fading dream—and rip into her like depraved mutt until you reach the delicacy enwrapped within all the extraneous layers. And how sweet it is! Even more so than the macarons, even more so than her cry (be it of terror or delight it made little sense and little difference), even more so than paradise! It borders on nauseating—your stomach twists and struggles—but you do not mind the meagre trouble. She is exquisite, syrupy blood and chewy tendons, and your arms wrap around her in suffocating cage as you savour her.

Blinding white mistaken (no; realised,) to be renewal. Though the rest has turned to magnificent, fragmented mosaic, she is still perfectly vivid and clear against the cracking car. Skin still supple beneath your fingers, oesophagus still glowing beneath your mouth, blood still singing beneath your tongue. You do not let go.