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itsjaywalkers · 1 month

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a lil smth under the cut for u guys (part 3) <3

(light nsfw)

part 1 part 2

“Well, it’s not perfect, but it’s decent enough, so it’ll have to do,” James says, and Regulus it’s too busy trying to keep his breathing under control to be bothered by the other man’s words. “Relax your shoulders a little, love.”

“Don’t,” Regulus hisses, even though he isn’t sure himself if that response is because of the nickname, or James’ touch, or James’ closeness, or something else entirely.

“Don’t what?” James asks, sneaking a hand up and massaging one of his shoulders until both of them sag.

“You know what.”

“I don’t even think you know.”

Regulus huffs loudly, and hates that he can’t argue back.

“Show me how you do a jab,” James requests, his hands returning to Regulus’ waist after one last press on his shoulder.

Regulus clears his throat slightly, feeling a bit flustered all of a sudden while he raises his right arm and gets ready to do what James asked. He only hesitates for a couple of seconds before doing the punch, not as confident as he’d usually be after having James criticise him so much.

He knows he’s no expert. He isn’t even that athletic to begin with. But he still has a boxer brother, which means he’s definitely not as clueless as James is making him out to be.

Maybe if it were someone else, Regulus would find it in himself to fight back, defend his knowledge and Sirius’ teachings. But, as it turns out, having a professional boxer watching you try to punch is an incredibly humbling experience. Especially one as mind-blowingly good as James.

Not like Regulus would ever tell him that.

James hums. “Not bad,” he says, and really, it shouldn’t satisfy Regulus as much as it does. “It’s a bit too slow, though.”

Regulus tilts his head back, in an attempt to look at the other man, but he barely lasts a second after realising how fucking close both of his faces are.

His heart beats wildly in his chest. He can only hope James doesn’t notice.

“How so?” Regulus wonders, so relieved to hear his voice sounds completely normal.

“Jabs focus on speed over strength,” James explains calmly. “It’s a matter of overwhelming your opponent, rather than properly hurting. The punch has to be quick, and once the arm returns, it’s gotta go up, protect your face. Like this.”

He grabs one of Regulus’ arms gently, moving it forward and then back very slowly, to demonstrate how to do it, and then fast, jostling Regulus’ whole body with it.

“See?” James murmurs, and he could swear that his tone has gone lower. “You don’t have to worry about being strong enough. It’s all about speed.”

“Okay,” Regulus replies with a tiny nod, doing his best to concentrate on what James is seeing, and not on all of the points where they’re touching. Or on how close James is. Or how nice he smells, despite all the sweat—maybe even because of it. “I think I get it.”

“Yeah? Wanna try again on your own?”

Part of Regulus wants to snark back, argue that it’s only a stupid jab and James is just being picky because he’s a professional boxer and it’s not like there’s an actual science to throwing a punch. But having James holding onto his waist must be clouding his mind, because he just gives another nod, and does his best to replicate James’ movement and speed.

“Yeah, that’s it,” James breathes out, and Regulus can almost hear his smile. “Very good, love. You’re a natural.”

“Oh, I’m a natural now?” Regulus huffs out, but it comes out more teasing than irritated.

“Or maybe you just have a great teacher,” James adds playfully, accompanied by a squeeze on his hips.

“You’re right, Sirius is pretty great,” Regulus responds with a shrug, relishing in the way James clicks his tongue.

“But I’m better.”

“In your dreams, Potter.”

“Wait, what happened to ‘James’?”

Regulus feels heat rushing to his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

James chuckles way too close to Regulus’ ear, and his breath hits the side of his neck, goosebumps breaking all over his skin. Regulus has to swallow a very embarrassing and very needy sound before it makes it past his lips.

“C’mon, love, we were getting along so nicely. Don’t try to ruin it now.”

“You’ve finally lost it,” Regulus states, trying to laugh the whole thing off. It probably doesn’t work, though, considering how unstable he sounds. “There’s not a single universe in which you and I get along, Potter.”

“Liar,” James whispers. “I’m growing on you.”

“Whatever gave me away?” Regulus grumbles, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“The fact that you’re letting me touch you,” James murmurs, voice smooth and silky, feeling like a caress. “How you keep leaning against my contact, and catching yourself at the last second.”

Regulus’ breath hitches. “That’s—”

“The way you’re not even arguing with me anymore. Not really,” James continues, unrelenting, his lips grazing Regulus’ earlobe and making his eyes flutter shut. “If anything, I’d even dare to say you’re flirting.”

“You’re delusional,” Regulus spits, too breathless to sound as furious as he’d like to. “The fucking audacity—”

“And,” James cuts him off, tone so frustratingly smug, “I bet you’re aching between those pretty legs of yours.”

Regulus lets out an embarrassed noise, barely suppressing the urge to press his thighs together.

“No,” he croaks out, shaking his head a little and face burning.

“No?” James mocks him, pressing his smirk behind Regulus’ ear. “Shall we check?”

One of James’ hands moves slowly, sliding from its place on Regulus’ waist to rest under his navel, fingers playfully caressing his waistband.

Regulus hates how that mere touch is enough to turn his mind into static. To make his heart stutter in his chest, and the mess in his underwear almost unbearable.

“Potter—”

“No.”

Regulus’ eyebrows shoot up, and before he has the chance to ask, he feels James’ teeth at the side of his neck, nipping teasingly and dragging a fucking whimper out of him.

“What—?!” he begins, completely red in the face and attempting to move away from the other man for the first time since he allowed his touch.

James holds him tighter, bites down harder. “Behave, Regulus, or I’ll fucking make you.”

Regulus doesn’t listen, despite how the tone of James’ voice makes him tremble like a leaf. He keeps resisting, an outraged sound leaving his mouth while his body betrays him and becomes even wetter.

“Oh, you don’t get to play the clueless card on me,” James murmurs, his teeth giving way to a devilish tongue that turns Regulus soft and pliant, his attempts at freeing himself growing sloppy, lazy. “I always do my best to be patient, to respect your boundaries and control myself, but you’ve been a damn tease all afternoon, and I’m fucking done.”

“What the fuck are you even—”

“Enough,” James growls back, and it’s so commanding Regulus’ mouth snaps shut with a clack.

There’s a beat of silence, and then James is laughing under his breath. “Good boy.”

It’s filled with mockery, bordering on mean, and yet, it still makes Regulus moan like a fucking bitch in heat, eyes rolling to the back of his skull and body going completely boneless.

“Fuck,” James whispers, a mix between awed and devastated. “I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known. Is that what does it for you, baby? You wanna be my good boy?”

Baby.

Regulus moans again, even though it’s weaker this time, but he still shakes his head, or tries to at least, holding onto the last traces of sanity and refusing to let James win whatever twisted game they’re playing.

“C’mon, you were doing so well,” James mumbles, tongue licking up the side of his neck. “And you can’t fool me anymore. Not like you ever did, but still. I know you wanna be good for me, baby. Know you wanna please me, let me use you in whatever way I see fit.”

He tries to shake his head once more, but somehow, his brain gets the order wrong and Regulus ends up nodding instead.

“That’s right,” James coos, dropping a kiss on his skin, long and lingering. “Now, say my name, Regulus.”

“James,” he gasps almost against his will, mouth moving before his mind can catch up.

The other man groans and then attaches his lips to his throat immediately after, tongue pressing down as he sucks, the sting feeling absolutely heavenly.

Regulus tilts his head to the side to give James more space, eyes hooded and limbs heavy, back coming to rest against James’ chest.

“James,” he says again, without being prompted this time and the word almost sounding like a whine.

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” James hisses against his neck, peppering the skin with open-mouthed kisses, his tongue and teeth mapping out Regulus’ skin. “You don’t understand how long I’ve been dying to do this.”

Regulus whimpers, hands moving on their own volition and reaching behind him until they bury themselves into James’ messy locks. He pulls, a bit harsher than intended, but before Regulus can manage to apologise, James is moaning loudly, the vibrations on his skin making him shiver.

He pulls again, and James bites down on his throat hard enough to leave a mark. Regulus doesn’t have it in himself to reprimand him, or to tell him to stop. His brain is unable to focus on anything that isn’t James’ mouth working down his neck.

“We could’ve been doing this ages ago if you weren’t so fucking stubborn,” James sighs, lips caressing his exposed shoulder and dragging another obscene noise out of Regulus. “I knew you wanted it. I knew you wanted me.”

“James—” Regulus pants, apparently unable to speak anything else apart from the other man’s name.

It’s kind of embarrassing, how pliant a couple of kisses and a few dirty comments can make him. Regulus isn’t usually this easy, especially not in bed; he likes having a modicum of control, always ready to remind his partner that he doesn’t enjoy being bossed around. But, and as much as he hates to admit it, James knows what he’s doing.

Although, maybe it’s not even a matter of skills. Maybe it’s simply that it’s James, and despite how much he’s tried to deny it, he’s been desperate for him almost since the moment he laid eyes on him.

“God, baby, you taste divine,” James grunts, sucking on his collarbone almost at the same time that his fingers dip into Regulus’ waistband. They don’t get very far, and it’s more of a playful contact than anything else, but his breath still hitches. “Can’t wait to put my mouth between your legs.”

Regulus makes a keening sound, hips twitching, and James chuckles cruelly against his shoulder.

“You’d let me, right, baby?” James goes on, the hand that had slipped inside the basketball shorts changing its course and travelling up up up, until they’re caressing Regulus’ chest, following the shape of his scars. “There’s no point in pretending you’re not fucking gagging for it at this point. Just look at you. Look at you. I bet you could come from this. From me marking you up while I whisper in your ear.”

“N-no,” Regulus huffs, blinking furiously and doing his best to break out of his daze. “You’re too—too full of yourself. This isn’t enough, it could never be, and I—”

“Not enough?” James questions, stopping his ministrations. Regulus bites his tongue to stop the protest at the tip of his tongue. “Is this your way of asking for more, baby? Because you’re gonna have to do better than that. I don’t listen to brats.”

Regulus wishes he could scoff, elbow James in the stomach so his touches stop clouding his mind and tell him to fuck off. Maybe even show him how well he can throw a stupid punch.

But his body isn’t listening to his mind. It doesn’t care about what Regulus truly wants. Or what he’s been telling himself he wants, at least.

That’s why when he parts his lips, none of the curses he’s been preparing come out. Instead, there’s only need and lust. “Please,” he whimpers, closing his eyes tight momentarily. “Please, James, I—I just—”

James shushes him gently while circling a nipple, Regulus’ toes curling inside his toes and cunt clenching around nothing. “Oh, baby. It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you so well. Give you exactly what you need.”

“Yeah,” Regulus exhales, hands spasming around James’ curls. “Please.”

“Gonna let me fuck you, baby? Let me finger you nice and open, so you can get ready for my cock?”

Regulus moans and nods and thrashes around, one of his hands slipping from James’ hair just so he can grab one of James' by its wrist, pushing his arm downwards and hoping to get some relief where he truly needs it.

James stops right before he reaches his waistband, a cocky grin curving against Regulus’ skin.

“Well, well,” James breathes. “Aren’t you a needy little thing.”

“C’mon,” Regulus complains, uncaring of how childish he sounds. He feels too fucking drunk on everything James to be able to think about anything else apart from getting off.

James laughs again, because he’s mean like that, and Regulus can already feel some tears prickling at his eyes out of frustration.

“You have to tell me what you want, Regulus,” James says, and his voice is so damn casual it actually hurts. “This won’t work otherwise.”

There’s no this, Regulus wants to snap back, but then James is pressing nearer, until Regulus can feel the outline of his hard cock against his ass. It makes him gasp and push back against it, really pleased by the little hiss James lets out at the pressure.

“See what you do to me, baby?” James whispers, dragging his lips over his shoulders, the side of his throat, behind his ear. “We barely did anything, and yet I’m so fucking hard it’s actually painful. You’ve no idea of how many times I’ve jerked myself off to the thought of you. Wishing it was your hand instead. Your mouth. The inside of your cunt.”

Regulus’ knees shake, a mewl escaping his parted lips, and James’ grip on him turns even stronger.

“I bet you’ll feel all tight and warm around me,” James goes on, tone husky, words dripping with so much desire it makes Regulus light-headed. “Make the sweetest sounds, too. I used to think you were too uptight and that I needed to fuck the stubborness out of you, but it turns out that you’re real fucking dirty, baby. Grinding back against my cock and opening your legs the moment I praised you a little. Oh, if they could see you now, baby. Big bad scary Regulus Black. Reduced to a pathetic, whimpering mess.”

“Shut up,” Regulus grits out, but he doesn’t stop rubbing his ass on James’ cock, or pulling at James’ wrist insistently, in an attempt to get his hand inside his pants. “You’re all bark and no bite. Spent all these months telling me everything you wanted to do to me, and now that I finally give you a chance, you’re only teasing and babbling in my ear.”

“Good try, baby, but you should know by now that that attitude of yours only turns me on.”

“Yeah? Then how come you’re not fucking me yet, huh?”

James’ other hand, the one that hasn’t stopped gripping Regulus’ waist for a single second, lets go and climbs up, taking a hold of Regulus’ chin. James uses it to tilt his head back, forcing their gazes to meet, and Regulus despises how he feels himself get slicker at the flash of danger on James’ gaze, the sharpness of his smirk.

“God, the mouth you have on you, baby.” James cocks his head to the side, considering, and he grips his chin even tighter. “So fucking filthy. And so pretty when you beg.”

“I don’t beg,” Regulus murmurs back, aware that it’s a lie. He still narrows his eyes when James barks out a laugh.

“Yes, you do. You already have. And you will do so again, if you want to come.”

“I don’t need you for that. I can just—just walk out of here, leave you hanging and get off all by myself—”

“No, you can’t. I’m sure you’ve also jerked off while thinking of me, right, baby? All that tension, all that repression, I know it took its toll. Did you finger yourself slow and deep as soon as you got home after our interviews? Came with my name in your mouth?”

Regulus only glares at him, not even trying to defend himself. What’s the point, when James can see right through him? Lying won’t do him any favours.

“You did,” James states, ridiculously pleased with himself. “You’re not gonna go and waste this chance over your wounded pride, baby. Argue all you want, but we both know you’re not going anywhere. Not when you’re practically drooling at the thought of taking my cock.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want it as much, if not more, than I do,” Regulus grumbles.

James shrugs, leaning forward and forcing Regulus to do the same. Until their noses are grazing each other, breaths intermingling.

“Never said otherwise,” he retorts with ease.

“Then what the fuck are you playing at?”

“Nothing, really. Just waiting for you to tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you, baby, I swear. You just gotta ask.”

Regulus purses his lips, but James does sound sincere, and at this point, it’s not like he has anything else to lose. It’s too late to try and save face, and his dignity, or whatever was left of it, took its leave the moment he allowed James to get this close.

Besides, he wants this. He wants James. Has done so for a while, probably since the very beginning, and not even he has this much self-restraint.

“Fuck me,” Regulus says in a soft exhale, watching the way James’ pupils eat at his irises. “Please, James, fuck me. I need you inside me, it’s—fucking unbearable, really, and I’m gonna lose it if you don’t—”

“Yes,” James gasps out, nodding fast, moves turning erratic as he finally slips his hand under the shorts, under Regulus’ briefs. “Yes. Of course, baby, anything you want, I’m—shit, you’re so—let me just—”

His fingers rub at his clit playfully, pulling a moan out of Regulus, before they continue their path down, until they’re running through slick curls, teasing at his entrance and marvelling at the wetness they find there.

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking dripping,” James whispers in wonder. Regulus can only whimper, pushing against his eager hand. “And it’s for me. All for me. Fucking hell, just—come here—”

It’s when James tilts his head up, clearly wanting to kiss him, that Regulus finally manages to go back to himself. That Regulus remembers where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s doing it with.

Reality hits him with such harshness that the ground seems to tilt under his feet, leaving him breathless, and dizzy, and having to swallow down a wave of nausea.

What the actual fuck is wrong with him?

“Wait,” he squeals, James’ mouth already touching his. “Wait.”

To the other man’s credit, he does stop immediately at Regulus’ words, pulling back and fingers freezing where they were exploring at his cunt’s entrance.

Regulus takes a gulp of air, heart rumbling loudly inside his head, his brain screaming at him to get a fucking grip.

“Reg?” James calls him, a worried frown twisting his features while his eyes roam all over his face. “Baby, you okay?”

“Don’t—” Regulus wheezes out, clawing at James’ arm until he gets the hint and takes it out of his pants. He can’t think with those thick, calloused fingers resting on his cunt. “We can’t do this. It’s—no, James, just—no.”

Something pained flashes in James’ gaze, before it disappears, being substituted by a harshness Regulus has to look away from. “Regulus—”

“No,” he repeats, a lot firmer this time. “I’m not—I can’t, James. I’m sorry, I really am, but I just can’t.”

Regulus doesn’t stick around to hear James’ response, or watch his reaction. He moves away from him, legs shaky but still managing to support his weight, and he exits the ring without daring to glance back.

#AND FINALLY #ITS DONE #god i cant believe this silly scene ended up being so long #especially when i wrote it . without actually making an effort . since it's just a snippy and i was simply having fun #but i guess i should've expected it #anyways hope u guys enjoy!!#and that the wait was worth it!!#if u see any mistakes or something that doesn't make much sense #no u didn't #it's almost 4am and im knackered #be gentle with me etc #going to sleep NOW #boxer james agenda

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keulixeutin · 1 year

Note

So hey! How was your day? Hope you're having a good week!

I'm not the most experienced person with requests but here we go: I just read your "lovelorn and lovable" and I really like it, it's just so cute! Could you please write a "previous hurt/comfort" type of thing were the reader feels insecure of their relationship with bakugo in the beginning of it because they still can't see this little things he do to show he loves them? I would be really grateful if you could make it gender neutral too but if you don't want to write it at all, is also completely fine.

Thank you either way, have a good day!

hi hi!!! i’m doing much better now that i’m leaving my stupid ass job bahhahah. i hope life is also treating u well, and i really appreciate the request!!! it’s my first one; i was so excited!!!! it’s also long as fuck and i’m not sure it constitutes as a drabble anymore (considering it now also has a title) but whatever LOL. anyways thanks for enjoying my L&L fic, and i hope u enjoy this one, too!!! 🥰🥰🥰

title: multilingual. summary: requested. you weren’t always so confident in your understanding of bakugou’s love language. a companion piece to lovelorn & laughable.

cw: gn!reader, gender neutral pronouns used. hurt. fluff. swearing.

wc: 1765.

A fifteen second video of you and Bakugou trends for three days. It’s something innocuous, something that Bakugou always does for you; you’re genuinely surprised that it catches so much attention.

The clip starts with a sleek, black car pulling up to you in front of a mall entrance. Bakugou steps out, dressed in ripped jeans and a pale sweater, donning round, gold glasses. He steps to the other side of the car, opens the door for you, and takes your many shopping bags. Before closing the passenger door, he dips his head inside the vehicle, presumably to kiss you in greeting; then, he closes the door, pops open the trunk, and places your bags gently in the back. The video ends with you and Bakugou driving off.

—The internet goes wild.

There are people who adore seeing the private habits of a Dynamight in love, but there are many others (the louder ones) who can’t believe it—who won’t believe it. They accuse the both of you of faking the relationship, claiming that moment—and many others—is staged for a PR stunt. They’re can’t see that Dynamight is capable of touching without burning—that Bakugou is capable of loving without scarring.

It’s funny. Hilarious, really. You send screenshots to Ashido and Kaminari to cackle about the comments throughout the day. Bakugou, on the other hand, is unfazed.

Once, you ask out of curiosity if it hurts his feelings to have these rumors circling. In return, he asks, You agree with ‘em? Of course, you say no. He rolls his eyes so aggressively that you’re dizzy yourself, and he says, Then why would I give a flying fuckity fuck? After his hostile response, Bakugou collapses on top of you on the couch, his weight making you complain and your complaints making him smirk. He wraps his arms around you like a promise, and he falls asleep while you send skull emojis to your friends and curl your fingers into his hair.

Your relationship with him wasn’t always this easy to understand; you didn’t always understand Bakugou. A while back, you might’ve considered his answer to mean that he was annoyed with you.

At the very start of your relationship, you are too preoccupied with his words and grunts. It’s not that they aren’t important, but you hadn’t yet learned that what he says in his actions are just as—if not more—important. You had to learn his language—not how he says I love you with his lips, but how he says it with his hands, the tilt of his head, his proximity, his silence.

Of course, without understanding that his language its a nonverbal one, it’s difficult at the beginning. Several weeks into dating him, you’re so focused on what he says that it chips away at you. His muttering, his growling, his sighing, they all hit you harder than they should’ve. With every it’s fine’s or it’s whatever’s, you’re left more and more confused and insecure.

He tells you, Wait here, as he enters the gas station, and you wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want you slowing him down in between the small aisles.

He says, Just shut up and sit down, in the kitchen, and you think he finds you a useless helper and unwanted presence.

He says, Yeah, yeah, when he brings you flowers and chocolate-covered fruits on Valentine’s Day. That night, you lay awake in your bed, afraid that he did it out of obligation and not because he truly wanted to.

These are the little things that start to break you.

You think you can ignore or get over them. You think he’ll soften sweetly with time. Logically, you know you should bring it up. You’re a big supporter of open communication in relationships, but there’s a part of you that’s scared that, if you do bring it up, he’ll break off the relationship instantaneously—and you know how ridiculous it sounds. If he doesn’t want to be with you, then it’s his loss; that’s how you should view it, but… You can’t help but want it to work so badly with him.

You don’t bring it up with your friends because you know what it is they’ll say (the same things you’d say to them if the situation were reversed), so you do the easier thing and let it sit, and simmer, and sadden, until, finally, you break down in the shower, sobbing beneath hot droplets.

Your heart clenches and unclenches painfully as you let out your distress, sorrow, and guilt. You know this isn’t a longterm solution, crying in the bathroom in secret, but at least you’ll get some of it off your chest. You’ll feel clean and smell great, and you’ll make room in your heart for more things to carry and bury inside.

When you finish, you dry off, throw on pajamas, and step out of the heated and humid room—and you come face to face with Bakugou leaning against the wall opposite of you.

He knows something’s wrong.

You pretend that nothing’s out of the ordinary, but, of course, he sees right through your half-hearted act. Instead of coming clean, though, you double down, insisting that it’s something work-related and that you’ll tell him another time.

He doesn’t believe you—his eyes narrow and his jaw tenses—but he doesn’t press. Instead, Bakugou says he’s here if you need something, and then he returns to the kitchen.

You stand there, trying to reconcile the reality your fears had created with the present in front of you. You thought that he’d try and drag it forcefully out of you; you were afraid he’d follow you around the apartment with fiery words and fierier glares, but he doesn’t, and you feel immensely guilty that you’re surprised.

You stare at the corner of your glass coffee table in thought, wondering where you are supposed to go from here—and then you realize that it’s clean.

When you had hopped into the shower, you had a several books on the table that needed to be read, three cups of water you hadn’t finished, and a wad of napkins that you had been too lazy to throw away. Now, the table is clean and wiped down. The books have been organized by size, biggest on the bottom, and neatly stacked in the corner of the coffee table. The cups and trash are gone.

Actually, a lot of your trash is gone, you think, looking around your apartment.

The blanket on the couch has been folded, the small trashcan underneath your desk across the room is emptied, and the various items and junk you’ve scattered around your little place have either been reorganized or thrown away. Food has been laid out on your dining table, and when you look to the kitchen, Bakugou is washing dishes; one of the cups that had been sitting on your coffee table is in his hands, covered in soapy suds.

You watch Bakugou put the last mug into the dishwasher to dry. Your back is still wet and warm from the bathroom, and in front of you, the room is peppery and spiced. You will yourself not to become suddenly overwhelmed with this quiet and cry.

You hungry? Bakugou asks.

Yeah, smells good, you manage to say.

You make your way toward the table.

Something tickles at your mind. Something tugs on your heart.

Something tells you to pay attention, to watch carefully.

So you do.

Bakugou fills your bowl for you. You mention that you like the searing on the vegetables, and then you notice that he puts more of them on your plate (some nights later, you see seared vegetables show back up on the dinner table). When you’re both finished, he puts the food away and clicks his tongue and scowls furiously when you try to help. You feel a sharp turn in your stomach, but you push it down to wait, to watch. You grab another plate and Bakugou takes it from your hands instantly.

You’ve had an ass day at work, yeah? So just fucking sit down.

You take a seat on your couch and turn on the TV. You scroll through channels, but you’re thinking about Bakugou’s harsh swearing and intentional movements, how sharply they contrast, how you’re only ever focusing on one half of it.

How did you forget?

That’s part of why you fall for him in the first place: the things he does for his friends without needing to be asked and without needing to be thanked. You’ve seen him excuse himself to the bathroom to sneak off and pay for the group’s meal; you’ve seen him walk all of them home after drunken nights out; you’ve seen him answer the phone at 4 AM and, despite his reluctant, sleepy swearing, lay awake until the other falls asleep through their nightmares. He’s attended Kaminari’s second cousin’s birthday party because Kaminari had asked—begged, really—and attended dancing classes with Ashido because she needed a last-minute partner.

Bakugou takes a seat right beside you, and leaves all that space to the left.

Perhaps you’ve been going about this the wrong way.

Perhaps you don’t know his language as well as you thought.

So you learn.

Over the next few days, you watch closely and think back carefully. Slowly, you learn to read his actions and decipher his words. You learn that he tells you to wait in the car because he wants to get the items for you; you learn he tells you to sit down because he wants to cook you dinner after your long day; you learn he mutters as though disregarding your thanks to hide his pink cheeks and sweaty palms and beating heart.

(Later, you teach him a thing or two about your language, too, how yours is a verbal one, how if you can learn to understand him, then he, too, can understand you.)

Now, months later, it’s still not easy—but it’s easier. You hear what he says, but more importantly, you see what he does, and Bakugou, in turn, sees what you need and says what he means. Sometimes, anyways. (Swearing comes much too easy to him.)

Later on, you tell him how you felt in those beginning weeks. You think it’d be a quick conversation, a fast laugh, but Bakugou doesn’t take it well. You’d never seen him so red-faced and speechless before in your life, like he couldn’t believe you could look at him and think he’d love you in any other way.

#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ titled「 multilingual 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ fandom「 bnha 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ character「 bakugou 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ reader「 gender neutral 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ asked「 answered 」#╰【 FILED UNDER … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ novae writes 」#bakugou x reader #bakugou x gn!reader #bnha x reader #if u saw weird things with the original post #no u didn't

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