bakugo + marriage fantasy
Bakugo rubs his dick while thinking about you.
He canāt help himself sometimes. Itās not very often that heās home alone, and itās even less often that he finds himself unsatisfied when it comes to you.
But itās true, heāll admit itā¦ heās unsatisfied, desperate for you, and not for less, but for moreā¦ How does one get closer to someone they are already so close to, he wonders, and how is he supposed to tell you that he wants to?
Itās something that he could never explain to anyone lest his heart fall right out of his mouth and into your fucking hands.
He can see it now, the ceremony, the honeymoon, the forever.
You would make the perfect wife, he thinks, he knowsā¦
Youāre already so good for him, so soft, especially when youāre waiting for him at home, as you always do, as you always should, your arms his favorite resting spot.
Which is why someone so strong, so loving, shouldnāt be burdened with hero work, someone whoās so perfect for him should be protected, kept safe, always, so that you can always help to keep him safe, too.
His chest aches at the thought, the muscles in his stomach tightening, his dick throbbing in his hand as he strokes himself to the thought of you between his thighs.
Thatās why he needs to marry you.
He can see it, the way that youād get on your knees for him, the way you do now, rewarding him for being a good hero, a good husband. But it would be different, because on one of the hands you use to touch him, there would be a ring, one that he chose and one that youād loveā¦ he knows the sight would never get old, and when he grips his cock now he pretends that he can feel it, the cool metal against his shaft as he throws back his head and growls at the thought of coming home to you everyday in a ring and an apron and pictures on the wall that show him in a tux and you in a perfect, white dress.
He really needs to marry you. Soon. Just propose at the least.
He doesnāt have a ring yet, despite all his thoughts of one, but that could easily be fixed. Have his parents pull a few strings and heāll have enough of them shipped to the door of the apartment that you share that just choosing one becomes an issue.
He can guess the headlines now, as when the tabloids see the new accessory on your hand he knows the proposal will become a national affair before every stylist in the country has a field day trying to sell you a dress.
But its not that simple, because heād want to do the wedding dress shopping with you, enjoying how youād laugh at all his comments, nasty or not, before heād tell the shop keepers that you needed a minute so he could hike one of the fakes they gave you up to your waist, practicing for the real thing by pulling a leg around his hip and fucking you until youāre calling out for him, your husband, even though youāre not married yetā¦ one hand bruising your waist and the other in your mouth to keep you quiet.
He hopes the dress you end up choosing is expensive, big, and has little diamonds and pearls on it that sparkle, mostly so no one can take their eyes off of you when you walk down the aisle, wanting everyone to know that heād do anything and everything for you, whether itās buy you a dress or be with you forever.
The thought makes him groan, his rough fingers still slipping around his shaft, his pace shifting from soft to desperately tight at the thought of you pulling back your veil at the altar so later he can smash cake into your face.
Because after dress shopping comes cake tasting, and he most definitely wants to go with you to the bakery. Heād complain the whole time, but it wouldnāt matter to you, not when heād get to impress you with his knowledge of cooking, and especially not when heād get to kiss you with frosting and sprinkles on your lips before youād both decide on a seven-tiered chiffon cake wrapped in marzipan with little green and orange flowers hugging the sides.
He can taste the flavors on your lips now, the same way he can imagine how youād turn your warm cheeks away from him at his open displays of affection, probably because he loves kissing you, loves being with you at all times, and wants to be your husband so badly it makes his dick leak and ache despite the fact that he still hasnāt the nerve to tell you that he feels like he needs to marry you or heāll actually, truly explode.
He continues the assault on his cock even faster now, if possible, and groans when he thinks about seeing you before the ceremony, maybe before they rest the tiara in your done-up hair, and maybe even before they tie you up in your dressā¦ the dress he knows heād accidentally rip off later, promising to get it fixed before anyone ever saw it again.
Youād try to keep him out of the fitting room, laughing, telling him that itās bad luck, but bad luck and Bakugo Katsuki donāt really exist together, ever, not when it comes to you, as he knows that nothing can ever change the fact that heās already the luckiest guy in the world for snagging you.
And when he would finally shove a foot through the door, delighted at the sight of you getting ready for him, heād have to stop himself from absolutely ruining you right then and there, wanting to save that for later in an attempt not to ruin the ceremony. So instead he imagines the way heād get on his knees, demanding that you pull your little white slip up above your hips so he can throw your leg over his shoulder, shove his nose against your cunt and eat your pretty kitty until tears are streaming down your face, his last time seeing you like that as a bachelor.
āHush,ā heād tell you, āor your bridesmaids will hear,ā but the words would mean nothing as he doesnāt try to stop you when your perfect moans slip through the fist you shoved against your lips to hide what he is doing to you, what Bakugo Katsuki is going to do to you every day for the rest of your life once he makes you his wife.
Finally, he is pushed over the edge at the thought, at the notion of you taking his last name, and he cums, spilling his seed across his navel, breath heavy in the emptiness of the room without you.
In the silence, his cheeks red and forehead sweaty, he swears to himself that one day, he will make this happen.
