lacie

“if you were to ever, like, i dunno. fuck me over.”

“already not likin’ where this—”

both your hands come up to squish his cheeks together, preventing him from speaking further. “shh. lemme finish.”

he glares at you, or tries to. with his cheeks smushed, there’s little heat that can be held behind his gaze when he looks like a pufferfish. cute.

you let go, hoping he’ll hear you out. he always does.

“anyway,” you clear your throat dramatically before you continue. “if you did fuck me over, i would probably pay an etsy witch to place a curse on you."

that makes bakugou smirk like you didn’t just practically threaten him. his brow with his eyebrow piercing raises. “that s’posed to be a warning?”

“mhm. or a threat. whichever scares you more.” you smile, teeth sinking into your plush bottom lip. your tone is sweeter than the perfume clinging to your skin. bakugou swears he can get dizzy off your scent alone.

he doesn’t answer you right away. instead, his hands slide to your waist, pulling you forward in one swift motion, settling you right in his lap. you gasp softly before snorting. your knees on either side of his hips as your arms circle around his neck. 

“kats—” you begin, but bakugou’s already leaning in.

the first kiss is soft. barely there. it’s just a peck, and you still find yourself chasing his lips when he pulls away.

then there’s another. this time slower.

his mouth lingers on yours, buzzing with the same insanity you feel. the same intensity that always makes you want to crawl into his skin and live there.

your hands travel up the nape of his neck and into his ash-blond hair, tugging lightly, earning a low groan from the explosive hero. his large hands are on your waist, pulling your flesh against his chest.

then he’s pulling back, just enough to murmur against your mouth. his words are low and rough as he smiles all boyish and lazy. you wonder if he suspects he has your lip combo on his lips now.

“was never plannin’ on fuckin’ you over,” he squeezes your waist. “get that shit outta y’head, princess.”

your heart flutters at his words. you prayed he couldn’t hear the pitter-pattering of your heart against your rib cage. you beam fondly at him, manicured nails lightly scratching at his nape. “promise?”

he pecks your lips again. “promise.”

your fiancé was halfway across the world in his office, doomscrolling on his phone instead of attending to the paperwork begging for his attention.

bakugou had been more than willing to accompany you (even though he loathes red carpets) to the award show to support his wonderful soon-to-be wife, but you insisted he stay and "take care of business."

bakugou would usually facepalm at headlines about you two, but this one was different. it wasn't a cheating rumor or tales of an alleged breakup.

a flurry of headlines recited the same thing: SUPERMODEL YN AND PRO-HERO DYNAMIGHT REPORTEDLY ENGAGED?!

fuck.

you and bakugou were fairly private when it came to your relationship. all the media had to know was that you guys were together. and happy! nothing more, nothing less. so then how the hell did pop crave know about this?

bakugou sits up a little in his desk chair, eyes behind square frames squinting at the words on his screen.

"hah? how the fuck—" then he scrolls down, seeing the attached photo of you serving face on the carpet. any semblance of anger seeps away from bakugou like sand in an hourglass. a fond smile spreads on his face instantly just at the sight of the love of his life.

he clicks his tongue, zooming into the photo shamelessly. your dolled up face, the intricate lace on the corset of your gown, and the curves of your body he's held countless times. the dork can't get enough of you.

"you run that mouth of yours, pretty girl?" he murmurs to himself, already imagining you yapping it up with one of the red carpet journalists.

then his eyes catch it, the expensive rock on your finger he proposed with weeks ago. it's almost hard to miss. now he gets it.

"fuckin' nosy ass idiots." bakugou huffs, shaking his head as he smiles beside himself. a quiet part of him loved people knowing you were his girl.

and y'know he's expecting a longgg facetime call from you once you're back in your hotel room, excitedly recounting the events of the night with a hello kitty face mask and silk robe on and your model of the year award in the back.

for the year you've known each other, meeting at a grocery store where he was clad with sunglasses and hoodie and he helped you grab a jar of strawberry jam off a too high shelf, to now, almost your four month anniversary, katsuki has always thought you were too sweet for him. that the other shoe was going to drop eventually.

even now, as he lays in your frilly and girly bed with stuffed animals strewn about the room, he stares at you as you're sleeping as if it's a dream. or as if you're going to wake up and realize he's too rotten for you.

you turn a bit in your sleep to face him, now on your side instead of your back. it's 2 am, now around the time you randomly wake up for water, like your body is on a schedule for thirst. your eyes flutter open ready to reach out for your water bottle, though you're instead met with a staring katsuki.

"hello?" you mumble tiredly, not expecting him to be looking at you with those sharp red eyes.

he looks startled for two seconds before his face schools back to normal, which is blank instead of angry now. "can't sleep," he gruffs out.

"mm, you need to get out your head, y'know. too much goin' on up there," you whisper, sitting up a bit to grab said water bottle to take a sip.

he stares at you for a bit, eyes roving your body. the way your throat bobs as you drink, the flutter of your lash extensions you insist on because you 'don't like how your eyes look without them', the scarf on your head to keep your hair tame.

"you don't think you're too sweet to me?" he finally speaks after a minute of silence.

"i think i'm sweet to everybody. why wouldn't i be sweet to you?"

"cause i'm an asshole baby, i don't think you should be sweet to me."

"don't talk about my boyfriend like that katsu," you whisper out, cracking an eye open to look at him, and it causes a faint smile to grace his face.

your fiancé was halfway across the world in his office, doomscrolling on his phone instead of attending to the paperwork begging for his attention.

bakugou had been more than willing to accompany you (even though he loathes red carpets) to the award show to support his wonderful soon-to-be wife, but you insisted he stay and "take care of business."

bakugou would usually facepalm at headlines about you two, but this one was different. it wasn't a cheating rumor or tales of an alleged breakup.

a flurry of headlines recited the same thing: SUPERMODEL YN AND PRO-HERO DYNAMIGHT REPORTEDLY ENGAGED?!

fuck.

you and bakugou were fairly private when it came to your relationship. all the media had to know was that you guys were together. and happy! nothing more, nothing less. so then how the hell did pop crave know about this?

bakugou sits up a little in his desk chair, eyes behind square frames squinting at the words on his screen.

"hah? how the fuck—" then he scrolls down, seeing the attached photo of you serving face on the carpet. any semblance of anger seeps away from bakugou like sand in an hourglass. a fond smile spreads on his face instantly just at the sight of the love of his life.

he clicks his tongue, zooming into the photo shamelessly. your dolled up face, the intricate lace on the corset of your gown, and the curves of your body he's held countless times. the dork can't get enough of you.

"you run that mouth of yours, pretty girl?" he murmurs to himself, already imagining you yapping it up with one of the red carpet journalists.

then his eyes catch it, the expensive rock on your finger he proposed with weeks ago. it's almost hard to miss. now he gets it.

"fuckin' nosy ass idiots." bakugou huffs, shaking his head as he smiles beside himself. a quiet part of him loved people knowing you were his girl.

and y'know he's expecting a longgg facetime call from you once you're back in your hotel room, excitedly recounting the events of the night with a hello kitty face mask and silk robe on and your model of the year award in the back.

you work in the hero commission in payroll and finance. paper work here and there, signing off expenses, cheques and oftentimes talking to a few heroes. it’s where you met this blonde one beside you. you took to dynamight, in a way few people do. enjoying his dry humour and witty responses. his face wasn’t half hard to look at, something pretty much everyone could agree with. the scar on his cheek only added personality and those sharp ruby pupils were addictive, especially paired with a hooded gaze. 

one staff party led to him bringing you back to his and now he’s a habit you just can’t break. dragging him to your apartment after work. him texting if he can bring you to his. you were friends before the benefits and now you believe you’re a good mixture of both. no strings attached.

you stare as he rolls out of bed, looking ever like the men’s health cover you saw him in last month. thick arms lifting up his muscled scarred body as he walks over to his wardrobe. he’s only in tight black boxers, these ones that have a brand in white fabric at the hips and make his dick look double the size. it’s already hefty to begin with. you bite down on your lip at the red scratches dragged down his back, by his left shoulder. the sight flashes the memory behind your eyelids.

“you didn’t have to get me anything!” you say, though you’re sitting up, arms out in offering, “last night was more than enough.”

bakugou’s shoulders bounce in a half laugh, turning around to carry two large boxes. your jaw drops like those fake email giveaways actually ended up being real. with eyeballs as big as golf balls, he plops them on your lap. they’re wrapped neater than you expected. pink wrapping paper with yellow polka dots all over. you imagine him in his living room cross legged on the ground taping it all up, grunting when a fold looks bad. adorable.

“you did not have to get me gifts, katsuki. these are massive,” you gawk and again, bakugou just shrugs, sliding back into bed beside you.

feigning nonchalance, bakugou rests his arms behind his head, eyes bouncing from you to the gifts in anticipation. he can feel his heartbeat rattling against his temples, his palms beginning to sweat. this is why he avoids gift giving, especially with you. this is a representation of how he knows you, of how he pays attention and listens to you. he hopes he got this right.

“it’s nothin’. i wanted to.” bakugou grunts and he’s wiping his nose again. nervous tick.

you hum, unsure. perhaps it’s a joke gift, something cheap in a big box. but then again, with everything you know about bakugou katsuki, that’s not something he’d do.

your grin finds its way back to your cheeks. gift giving has always been a top three in your love languages. call yourself materialistic, oh well.

“okay, here i go then.”

you put one of the boxes on the ground to focus on one at a time. you choose the bigger box of the two and you’re surprised to find it actually has some weight to it. there’s a stiff squish to it and you’ve got no clue to what it could be. you lift up the cube to shake but there’s no sound.

“is it a dildo replica of your dick? i’d love that,” you pat the gift, “i hear lots of heroes are getting them done for fans.”

bakugou rolls his eyes, enamoured. if you want that he’d make it for you. “my cock isn’t that big but i’ll keep it in mind for next time.”

with all your patience out the window, you rip open the paper like a tiger protecting their babies. reading the packaging of the gift, the stars and moons, you laugh, full of glee. “oh my god, you’re so smart for this! i literally go on about yours all the time.”

pleasure fills bakugou, like ice cream pouring perfectly into a cone from a machine. one down two to go. 

“i kept imaginin’ you stealin’ mine during the night. it’s newer than mine too.”

it’s an electric blanket, similar to the stupidly expensive one bakugou’s got that you’ve cooed over since the first time he invited you around. it’s white and quilted and something you’ve been planning on buying for yourself but never got around to doing. you study the multiple settings on the packaging, the promises of the feathersoftness and most especially, the warmth.

you kiss his cheek, twice. then his lips. bakugou leans in for it all, paw-like hand resting at your waist to balance you, “thank you for this! wow. i’m excited to sleep in my own bed for once.”

bakugou’s chuffed. crossing his arms over his chest and chewing the inside of his cheek so his smile doesn’t spill out everywhere. “no problem. i knew you wanted one.”

you’re still grinning when you put your gift onto the floor, replacing it with the second box. 

“you know the blanket was enough. whatever this is really wasn’t necessary too.” you try to excuse but bakugou shakes his head. he will buy you anything you want if it gets you looking at him like he’s holding the earth over an electric blanket.

“just open it. you’ll like it.” 

with a delighted sigh, you don’t even take the time to guess or shake the box. this time you rip open the wrapping paper to find a beige dust bag with your favourite designer logo embroidered on it. you freeze like you were zapped with an ice quirk.

you gasp. turning robotically to stare at the blonde beside you, “what the actual fuck katsuki?”

you know how much money he makes, up and coming, on the top twenty heroes at the moment. whatever is in this box, is perhaps twice his rent, more. it’s absolutely ridiculous compared to your pay at the end of the month. your fingers still trace the edge of the box beneath the bag.

red spreads across bakugou’s cheeks like you got the jam and knife yourself. a hundred to zero really fucking quick here. “what? just open the fuckin’ box.”

you’re still like the hero figurines he collects in his office. you’re watching his awkward frown, how he clicks his knuckles and back to the dust bag, your favourite designer. way out of your price range, you need at least four job promotions to even afford this casually.

“i’m going to look at it but i’m not taking this from you. i can’t.”

“why not?”

you ignore him for a moment, opening the beige dust bag to reveal a box the exact size of a bag. he could have given you a key ring from this company and you’d be satisfied but a bag? 

you hold your breath to imagine all the possibilities of which bag it could be. too small for a luggage bag, too big for their mini handbag range… there’s no way he could have gotten you that bag. the chocolate brown leather bag you’ve dreamed about since your first job, that you have on every vision board you’ve ever created, the bag you dreamed about buying yourself once you reach the top of your career.

“you’re insane for this.”

then you pop open the box and there it is. you’ve never even seen one off the screen. it’s gorgeous, your dream everyday handbag and you can already picture it with all your outfits. the smooth brown leather and golden hardware. an extra strap to have across your shoulder if you want. the logo is right there, sown in the centre and you can smell the luxury. the beauty, the—

you shut the lid on it.

“i can’t take that, katsuki.”

he’s not even your boyfriend. he can’t afford this. you don’t deserve this from him.

“i’m not asking to marry you. it’s just a bag.”

bakugou scoffs but he wipes his hands on his duvet cover, scratching his scalp so hard he might find blood beneath his nails. fuck, he went too far didn’t he?

“but it’s not, it’s…,” you’re opening the lid again slowly. you just want another peek. chocolate brown, you can imagine the charms you’d hang off it, how it would look tonight at your birthday dinner.

“do you not like it? i saw you staring at it on that photo app you have. i downloaded the app and looked through your folder—,” bakugou’s words slow down like a dying car engine once he notices the look on your face.

a mixture of endeared but panicked. 

“fine, i’ll fuckin’ return it. keep the blanket.”

bakugou reaches over to grab the box and you let him, “it’s so expensive! i know you can’t afford it! and… and it’s not like we’re dating. you should give something that big to your girlfriend, you know? not me.”

the pro hero stops, casting the box aside to the end of his bed. the humiliation is so thick he feels like it’s going to show up on his skin. 

“if you know how much the commission pays me, you should know it’s less than sponsors and companies. i wouldn’t buy shit i can’t afford, yn.” 

your heart thumps against your chest, your mouth dry. “i just meant—,”

bakugou sits up grabbing his pyjama bottoms off the ground and shoving them on. it’s the rejection, his own denial that’s turning him into a bratty child who didn’t get the new gaming console for christmas. he wants to stomp around, he wants you to take the bag and kiss him and tell him you love it. “i didn’t think gettin’ a fuckin’ bag would cause all this. but it’s fine. i’ll see you at your dinner later.”

your birthday dinner this evening. you allowed him to invite some of his friends so he wouldn’t feel awkward and you’ll admit, you’re surprised he even wanted to go in the first place. all your closest friends will be there and he’s going to meet them for the first time. little does he know they know everything about him already.

before you can even form a sentence bakugou is up, stalking over to his bathroom to freshen up. it’s your sign to go, to leave him to wallow in his embarrassment but you follow after him.

you find him by his sink, arms holding the rim with his eyes closed. he looks large, imposing and you want to wrap your arms around his waist in a cuddle.

instead you stay by the bathroom doorway like a vampire that needs to be welcomed, “i know it sounds stupid but it’s my dream bag, i’ve wanted that bag for years and i don’t expect you to just give it to me.”

he refuses to move but his eyes open, studying the white tile of his floor.

“and i know it’s expensive, it is to me and you know boyfriends usually get expensive gifts for their girlfriends… we… i don’t even know what we are.” your hands are bouncing all around, working overtime in case your words can’t suffice.

friends with benefits sounds too childish to say aloud. fuck buddies sounds inappropriate. bakugou turns to look at you. your bare feet, your soft thighs, the big ass all might t-shirt you’re wearing and then your face. pretty features in all the right places.

“how did i fuck up so bad?” bakugou’s laugh is humourless, shaking his head. he stands up to lean on his sink. “keep the fuckin’ bag.”

“i said i’m not keeping it!”

“i’m gonna make you my girlfriend. i was just too many steps ahead here.”

you don’t want to smile, you’re not supposed to start smiling here. you pinch your arm and order your thoughts. you especially don’t focus on how it looks like bakugou’s got formulas and a whole plan running behind his eyes, fully formatted with a smirk. 

he rubs his palm over his bare chest, smoothing out the rejection from before and your gaze follows the action.

“make me? you are not supposed to ask to be my boyfriend like this.”

but you’re walking towards him, because if his chest, naked and bare before you isn’t him welcoming you in, you don’t know what is. you keep your arms crossed, a barrier for whatever he’s summoning.

“ask to be your boyfriend,” his eyebrows raise, head tilted to absorb you, “huh.”

you narrow your eyes at him but his are alight with interest, burnt orange specs glowing in both pupils. he grabs your forearm and drags you closer to situate between his legs.

“i wouldn’t be doin’ this shit with someone i wouldn’t wanna date. idiot.” he punctuates his comment with a flick on your forehead and you’re an inch away from growling at him.

you palm flies to the spot, “it’s my birthday! be nice to me!”

“i bought you a bag i had to call my bank to confirm and i’m not being nice?” 

he wants to kiss you, lean in and smush his face onto yours. taste your tongue and touch you where you’re soft. his head is dizzy at the sight of your nipples poking through your tee and it doesn’t help how your crossed arms tighten the fabric against your chest.

you’re still defensive though, argument at the tip of your tongue. lips pursed like you want to wrap both your hands around his neck and shake.

“just ask me, katsuki. go on, do it.” you tilt your head in expectation, almost snootily like you know he will. “then i’ll go and walk around in my dream bag that you bought me.”

bakugou wasn’t built for you and that’s probably why he’s so into you. he wasn’t built to practically fall in love with you when he passed your desk when he had a meeting in your work building. nor when he had an issue with his taxes where he was put in an email thread and finally learnt your name. he didn’t mean to have lunch on your usual table that one time but he did mean to talk to you at that work party. he’s forever grateful you were into him too and actually went home with him. nothing about you is what he expected, constantly prodding and taunting him to evolve.

the blonde exhales, loud and dramatically. it doesn’t help when you step in close to him, both your feet between his legs yet only your crossed forearms press against his chest.

he looks tired, lethargic though it’s all an act to hide the nerves that make him want to vomit. his eyes are half lidded, fixing the collar to your tee. he should have done this ages ago so this was avoided in the first place. he wishes he could make this more romantic but at least it’s your birthday.

“wanna be my girlfriend?” 

you recoil, face scrunched, “ask me the other question.”

a slow smirk reaches his cheeks, “can i be your boyfriend?”

your grin is electric, infectious. your eyes glow and there’s even a little jump you do. “how cute! asking me on my birthday!”

bakugou rolls his eyes, untangling your arms from around your body and forcing your hands on his waist. your touch is a nicotine patch for him, finally a sweet release from the withdrawal of you.

“can you answer the question before i chug the bleach—,”

your hand flies to his mouth with a giggle and an adorable bite to your bottom lip, “shut up. yes, you can be my boyfriend, katsuki.”

he kisses your palm lightly. fireworks are going off inside his head and not those cheap ones from new years but ones as powerful as the ones from his hands. “you’re gonna keep the bag then?”

your nod is slow, before speeding up like a dial was turned to full speed. you’re speaking a million miles an hour, “yes, i love that bag. i’ve wanted it for years. can’t believe you got me one of those! thank you so much!”

this is what bakugou wanted, you grabbing his neck to stick your tongue in his mouth. he moans instantly, his hands on your lower back to press your front against his crotch. you’re all tender and sensitive in the mornings, lips and thighs. he wants to lift you onto his bathroom counter and duck between your legs.

he’s about to suck on your tongue when you pull away, pecking him twice. “hold on! wait there!”

you run out of bakugou’s arms, back into his bedroom. he can hear quick footsteps, a squeak of his bed frame, then tissue, the box.

you return looking like a sleepy model. the chocolate brown leather bag is on your shoulder and you’re clutching it like he’s about to snatch it from you. 

“isn’t it so cute! this is a bag that will go for thousands when it’s vintage!”

“you’re not thinkin’ of sellin’ it, are you? you better not.”

you dismiss him with a wave of your hand. “no, of course not!”

you’re posing in front of his bathroom mirror whilst he stares directly at you. he’s your boyfriend now, is all bakugou can think, he’s yours. you’re fixing your hair and angling yourself to properly see the bag in every possible way. holding it as a handbag, then on your shoulder. it’s when you pause to actually open the bag, that you squeal, “there’s five pockets, katsuki! five!”

bakugou rakes his hand through his hair, the joy that comes from looking at you not letting up. he stares at you as you stare at yourself. the fireworks in his head are doubling, bursting all over his skin. “fuckin’ estatic that you like it.”

“like it? i love it!” you’re back in his arms, bag on your shoulder, “my handsome boyfriend got me my dream bag and an electric blanket. he knows me so well.”

bakugou loves the sound of that, all his insides going to baby puree. he nods like a good puppy, listening like a soldier. “yeah, i do. i know you so well.” he kisses the corner of your lips, “happy birthday.”

“thank you. best birthday yet.”

you’re a ball of giggles when bakugou, softly sinks his teeth into your cheek and scoops you up onto his bathroom counter. 

he’s immediately on his knees and you swoon, “my boyfriend is so giving on birthdays.”

bakugou can’t keep his eyes off you at your birthday dinner. under dim intimate lighting, he sits a few seats away from you diagonally as your friends demanded to surround you. you’re chatting away with an audience of your favourite people looking absolutely stunning. fresh hair, a short little dress and the bag he got you perched like a trophy in your lap.

he can’t hear you properly from where he’s seated next to kirishima and kaminari but he knows exactly what you’re saying when you try to secretly nudge your head over to where he’s sitting. it also doesn’t help when all your friends turn like penguins to stare at him at the exact same time.

“seriously! it’s about time he asked you!”

“it’s going to be hard for him to beat this next birthday.”

“wow! you finally locked down dynamight!”

you shake your head, earrings jingling while there’s cheers, laughter and even a high five.

that’s when you lock eyes with bakugou who firstly gives you a shy smile because he’s never been in your solar system like this. around your friends on a day dedicated to you as more than your something. he’s your boyfriend now. your long ass eyelashes flutter, head tilting towards the entrance to the restaurant. he misses you and you look like you want to ask him how he is. he’s eager to stand, not bothering to excuse himself from the table because he knows you’re about to be right behind him, slipping your fingers between his.

“it’s not awkward is it? you’re enjoying yourself? i just told everyone we’re official.”

fuck, he’s going to try and keep you happy forever, even if his life depends on it.

likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox

he doesn’t argue, just clicks his tongue, drops down on one knee in front of you, and pats his thigh. “c’mon.” he murmurs, looking up at you expectantly. 

you do as you're told and rest your heeled foot lightly upon his thigh. his big, hero work calloused hands are careful. his movements are steady as he fastens the strap of your heel, fingers brushing your ankle feather-like.

your eyes were practically hearts as you watched him. mister big and scary pro-hero dyanmight was being so gentle with you.

“you’re too good to me.” your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. he was too precious.

bakugou scoffs, his ears turning pink from your words. “yeah, yeah.”

he pats your foot when he finishes and moves to your other. like clockwork, he slips your foot into the heel, tightens the strap, checks if it's fastened properly, and pats your foot when he's done. his hands linger a second longer than needed before he returns to his original daunting height.

“good?” he asks.

you nod, smiling up at him. “mhm.” you rise from your spot and kiss his cheek, your lip gloss appearing on his cheek. “thank you, baby.”

bakugou smiles, lazy and boyish. “course. anythin’ for you, pretty girl.”