hi can i request bakugou confessing to reader who’s very self conscious about their smile? like they cover it up a lot, and thinks it’s scary looking :( maybe like a graduation scenario where everyone’s happy and reader leaves for a bit and bkg follows them? have a nice day!!
a/n ;; i wrote him so out of character help what is the fucking ending
gender ;; neutral (no pronouns used)
warnings ;; being insecure, swearing (it’s bakugou bro what did u expect)
word count ;; 1k
“and the next award goes to… [name] [last name]!”
claps and cheers followed you as you made your way to the stage, nervously adjusting your mask to make sure that nobody could see. you bowed slightly to principal nezu, receiving your reward which was for “outstanding bravery and companionship” or something like that.
you didn’t know, everything was a slight blur until you were off the stage and back in between bakugou and iida.
“congratulations, dumbass,” bakugou muttered in your ear, watching as the part of your face he could see began to turn red from the close proximity.
katsuki smirked slightly.
“thanks, i guess.”
“do you even know what the damn thing’s for?” he inquired, and you shook your head.
“oh my fucking god,” he mumbled, slamming his palm against his forehead and groaning slightly.
“you’re the one who got the fucking award, and you don’t even know what it’s fucking for?”
with a shake of your head, you glanced down at the title.
“outstanding camaraderie throughout the thick and thin,” you muttered, hissing in surprise when iida’s elbow came in contact with your ribs, telling the two of you to shut up, but you simply shrugged.
wasn’t your fault you were here to get plaques and meaningless medals.
“huh,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “who would’ve thought?”
“maybe the people who actually heard you get the fucking award, dumbass!” he hissed in return, lightly punching you in the side.
you never would’ve thought you would see this side of bakugou when you first met him, but somehow, you had managed to break through his carefully built up walls and had become good friends with him.
it was nice.
you merely chuckled, elbowing him back and successfully dodging his next attempt at assaulting your shoulder.
iida, of course, got mad at the two of you and threatened to move you if you didn’t quit.
the two of you stopped after that.
the other students got their awards, and everyone filed outside to have their pictures taken and celebrate. you, however, had begun to heat up in the dark mask you wore, and swiftly began to sweat. you decided to sneak away for a quick moment, hopefully before anyone noticed you were gone, and shed your mask to allow some air on your mouth and lower face.
soon, you were in a secluded hallway, ripping your mask off and sighing in relief. it felt so good to breathe fresh air again.
you didn’t notice a certain blonde following you, nor staring in awe at the beautiful face hidden under that stupid mask of yours. he didn’t even understand why you wore it; whenever he asked, you’d just respond with “clout.”
which, i mean, makes sense. you need all the clout you can get to be honest. he just didn’t think that you should wear it all the time.
you leaned your head against the wall, still relishing in the feeling of air.
katsuki leaned against the wall, still relishing in your beautiful smile.
“i’m gonna be a hero,” you whispered, an awestruck smile on your face. “i’m gonna be a pro fucking hero.”
you began to giggle slightly, looking at your award and diploma with unlimited happiness.
for the first time in his life, bakugou katsuki thinks he swooned.
was this what falling in love felt like? he wouldn’t fucking know—does he look like the type of person to fall for somebody?
the correct answer is no. no he does not and he never has and he almost doesn’t want to again because there was this feeling of helplessness that came along with it. what if you didn’t like him back? how was he ever going to get out of this endless pit? would he ever get out of this endless pit?
but then, bakugou katsuki did what he did best: he impulsively decided to confess his feelings to you.
on an exam he would consider his options, and when it came to saving somebody’s life he definitely would, but he felt like this was the perfect chance. it was just the two of you, with no signs of anyone coming over anytime soon, and he still had the rush of adrenaline that came with the realization of love.
he rounded the corner.
you gasped and dropped your stupid mask (that he never wanted to see again) on the floor but scrambled to cover it up, hiding your hand over your mouth in the meantime.
“don’t!” he called, startling the both of you.
“don’t,” he repeated, quieter. “i want to see it.”
“it’s ugly,” you mumbled. katsuki recoiled in shock.
“what the fuck do you mean, ‘it’s ugly’?!”
“i mean that i don’t like it.”
“it’s pretty, why the fuck would you not like your mouth?”
“because it’s—wait what did you say?”
“i said it’s fucking pretty, dumbass.”
bakugou rolled his eyes and approached you, pulling the mask you had picked up out of your hands and tossing it somewhere behind him. he then cupped your face in his hands, smiling gently when he saw your complete face.
“god, i’m fucking in love with you,” he mumbled unconsciously, startling when he realized what he was doing. you stopped functioning completely, instead opting to stand still and stare at the tough guy in front of you. was this some sort of sick joke? bakugou katsuki never fell in love as far as you were aware. you sometimes didn’t even think he was capable of loving.
how did he love you?
katsuki turned around to leave, but you grabbed his arm and tugged him back towards you. staring at the ground, you muttered, “i like you too, bakugou.”
“huh?”
“i said, i like you too,” you laughed, poking his cheek. he spluttered and shoved you away, to which you shoved him harder. he muttered something under his breath and tugged you towards him, tracing your smile and the shape of your jaw.
“how did i land someone like you, huh?”
“i have no fucking clue, but i’m not complaining.”
“neither am i.”
“god, your smile is so pretty.”
“thank you.”
“you’re welcome.”
bakugou smiled as he hugged you close to his chest.
yeah, maybe love wasn’t so bad.
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the most important dad bod simon thought is when he’s fucking you in doggy and the swell of his gut perfectly slots into the arch if your back, heat and flesh pressing into every inch of your body as he weighs down on you, thrusts brutal and hard. it’s a perfect reminder of his presence— as if the fucking wasn’t hard enough to keep that at the forefront of your mind
jamieeeee my toes are curled!! this is so yummy im actually licking my screen idk hhhnh but absolutely!! (prev)
just. the way he surrounds you – fills you up – until you’re all heady and dizzy because he’s everywhere. overwhelming in the way he pumps his desires in you, waves of euphoric bliss tingling from where you feel him pressed up against you. the ripples of his fat and his muscles mingling with every thrust, reducing you into putty until all you could do is fist the sheets in hopes it can ground you.
the way he bears down his weight on your back while his arms, thick and strong, pull you up, suspending you on his cock. you hiccup a moan, garbling out your pleas, but simon just grunts in your ear, tells you how you’re such a good girl for taking him.
the way he fucks you in full nelson. folds you over before stuffing you up, and you cry at the dizzying pleasure. you don’t know what to focus on: his cock, rhythmic as it thrusts in you, or his arms folding you so expertly, or his stomach slotted against the small of your back, or his lap and how it cushions you amidst his rough pounding?
the way you mewl when simon wraps his hands around your wrists, the startling size difference making you clench around him. he huffs out a confused moan, nuzzling his nose on the back of your shoulder, before catching on your current fixation. he groans, guttural and packed with want, his thumbs rubbing soft touches along the inside of your wrists. “pocket-sized, aren’t cha?”
and the way you know his hold will leave bruises, hand-shaped marks around your wrists, your waist, your hips. or how your skin throbs at the bite marks he left, your neck sticky with simon’s spit but you’re too far gone to think of anything else other than the bubbling elation of knowing how much he’s marked you as his.
dear gods im sweating. i need him so bad
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@croptopjames happy birthday to the one and only jfp <3
jegulus | 933 words | trans reg & themes of gender identity and transition
Regulus felt his cheeks heat up as he snapped out of his daze and met James' eyes. He was wearing a knowing look, "Oh, I'm definitely keeping this," James declared, his smirk widening. "Especially if it gets this kind of reaction from you every time."
Regulus’ room was a disaster. James had finally coaxed him into sorting through his old clothes, only managing after he bribed him with promises of kisses and takeout afterwards. The closet had all but exploded, leaving piles of clothes scattered all across the room. With ‘yes’s,’ and ‘no’s,’ and ‘maybes’ occupying every available flat surface, Regulus was sure he hadn't seen the darkened wood of his floor in hours.
Sat on his bed, he watched as James dug through his dresser for another shirt. He let out a thoughtful hum as he grabbed two, throwing one over his shoulder and holding up the other: an awful plum-colored blouse. His mother had bought it for him—form-fitting, smothered in ruffles, and, in her words, “the perfect blouse for a sophisticated young woman.”
Regulus thought it was the ugliest fucking shirt he had ever seen.
“Ugh,” Regulus wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Absolutely not, that thing is a monstrosity.”
James barked out a laugh, amused at the disgust evident on Regulus' face, before flinging the shirt into the rapidly growing ‘no’ pile. He grabbed at the one resting on his shoulder.
“And this one?”
It was worn, fabric soft from years of wear. The dark green and gray had dulled, now just muted shadows of their original hues. The words printed on the front, cracked and creased, read ‘Hogwarts Women's Rowing’. It had been his favorite shirt for a long time. His parents had always been on him to join something– a club, a team, an honor society. If he was honest, he only chose rowing because it kept him out of the house the longest.
And he's so grateful he did, because it brought him Pandora. He suffered through early morning rows and long race days, soreness in his body and blisters on his hands. But every discomfort was worth it for the times he and Pandora would steal an extra hour to lie in the sun by the Great Lake, laughing until their bellies felt as sore as their arms. Worth it for the times Evan would cram them into his shitty jeep and drive them to their races so they didn't have to take the bus. Worth it, most of all, for giving him the first people with whom he could be honest—really, truly honest.
"I don't want to get rid of it," Regulus admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. "It was my favorite, but—I’m not ready to wear anything that might make people mistake me for a woman. Not for a while, at least.”
James nodded. He turned the shirt around, head tilting slightly as he considered it. “How about I hold onto it for you? That way it's not gone, just... repurposed.” He looked up at Regulus with a wicked grin. “I bet I could pull it off.”
Regulus couldn’t help but scoff as James began to pull on the shirt. “I’d like to see you try," he challenged, amusement evident in his voice.
But as James stretched out his arms and did a little spin, Regulus wasn't laughing. Instead, he felt his heart swoop. A familiar mixture of fondness and arousal swirled in his gut at the sight of James. Glasses knocked a little lopsided from pulling the shirt on, pajama pants hanging low on his hips and socked feet– it was a picture that made Regulus go warm with affection. But, it was the shirt that really kept his attention. Visibly too small, the letters strained as they stretched across the width of his chest. The hem of it hitting right below his navel, exposing his hip bones and the trail of hair leading down from his belly button. Regulus felt all the breath leave his chest. “C'mere,” he said softly.
James shuffled over to him. “Good?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.
Regulus shook his head, he was in awe of James. “Better than good. It suits you much better than it ever did me,” he mumbled, voice low and distracted. Reaching out to place his hands on James' waist, he absentmindedly dragged his thumbs back and forth over his hipbones, eyes stuck to the sliver of skin peeking out from beneath the shirt.
“My eyes are up here, love,” James gently teased, his voice laced with amusement.
Regulus felt his cheeks heat up as he snapped out of his daze and met James' eyes. He was wearing a knowing look, "Oh, I'm definitely keeping this," James declared, his smirk widening. "Especially if it gets this kind of reaction from you every time."
“I lied,” Regulus deadpanned, “you actually look ridiculous.” But his face was betraying him, unable to fight the smile spreading across it.
James hummed in response, the smugness in his tone unmistakable. He was clearly enjoying every moment of this.
"Oh, shut up," Regulus groaned playfully, his hands gripping the exposed skin at his waist to pull him down. James yelped in surprise before their lips were meeting in a kiss filled more with laughter than anything else. But then James was deepening it, and Regulus let himself be kissed breathless. After a moment, he gently pulled back, hand tenderly stroking through James’ hair.
"Thank you," he whispered, his hand tracing a path down James' neck, over his shoulder, and along the length of his arm until their fingers intertwined. "For being here, for—everything. Everything that you do for me."
James responded with a gentle squeeze of their hands, his eyes meeting Regulus’. "Always, love." His voice was soft but firm in promise. And there it was again, his heart swooping in his chest as James pressed a kiss to his temple. "Always."
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