Bakugou x (chubby) reader pt. 3
Synopsis: Bakugou makes you dinner
He texted you that night, insisting that for your third date, he was making you dinner.
Unfortunately, both of your schedules made it impossible to plan when said dinner would actually be.
It took two (long, horribly agonizing) weeks for Bakugou's and yours schedules to line up again, but the stars had aligned, and you had planned for a date on a Friday night.
It took you less than a week into waiting to begin to overthink the situation entirely.
Sure, two weeks wasn’t even that long, but what if he lost interest before the next date?
He was a pro hero, also like insanely hot, so surely he gets offers all the time. The grumpy teddy bear he won was a constant reminder of how amazing your last date was. It sat there practically taunting you - making you dream of the one who won it for you.
After one of your shifts, you FaceTime Mina while walking home, lamenting your worries.
“He’s just a great guy, I don’t know - it feels too good to be true,” you sigh.
“Girl, you’re blind,” Mina retorts. “I know Bakugou, if he doesn’t wanna do something: he won’t. ALSO inviting you to his place!!! I mean that practically is screaming interested.”
“Plus, it’s the third date, most people are hooking up by that point! “
“Hooking up? Oh fuck Mina,” you groan, fingers coming to pinch the bridge of your nose.
“Oh, don’t act like you’re a virgin,” Mina says, wiggling her eyebrows.
It really wasn’t. After your last date, you can’t help but feel guilty about fantasizing about what it would be like to kiss him, how soft his lips would be, how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair - ugh.
“It’s just that, oh god! I didn’t even think that he would want to do that. That he would even be interested in…. I don’t wanna think about all that!” You say, brushing away your heated thoughts “I’m already nervous about having to eat dinner in front of him.”
“What’s stressful about that? I’ve had his cooking before, he’s actually really good! Just another reason you should make him your man,” Mina states knowingly, “and another way he’s like Gordon Ramsay.”
Eating in front of others is something that has always made you insecure. Growing up chubby, comments about your diet or the way you ate didn’t help your insecurities. You still go out with friends and eat, but it’s hard not to think about how others are perceiving you in that moment. Of course, Mina didn’t understand that that was the reason for your nerves.
“Oh my god - you’re ridiculous. I’m just saying what if he changes his mind! Surely he has women throwing themselves at him 24/7”
“Bakugou is picky! AND he has good taste, which is why he’s interested in a date with you – you specifically. So quit doubting yourself!” Mina reassures you “It sounds like things are going really well, so just let them happen! Now what are you gonna wear?”
You and Bakugou kept a steady string of texts over the week. Periodically, he would message asking questions about spices or vegetables you preferred - making your insides flutter at the thoughtfulness he was putting into the date.
Along with pictures from your day, you had begun to send each other selfies. You couldn’t deny the giddiness you felt every time he would send a photo. They were never focused, but it was enough to admire his handsome features. You wondered if it was weird to save them?
One morning, you had sent him a photo of your outfit before work, to which he simply responded: “Stunning.”
That single word had you reeling for days.
Friday couldn’t come soon enough.
Friday, you woke up with butterflies, eager to see the man who had been invading your thoughts. As your pug licks your face, you start to daydream of what the night would be like. You spent the morning doing chores, taking your puppy for a walk, and then getting ready. After a shower, you started to craft an outfit for the night.
Since the dinner was at his house, you decided to go with something a little more casual: picking out one of your favorite bands' T-shirts, which had been cut to be off the shoulder, and paired with a lacy white bralette that peaked through.
You try not to think about how you were matching it with your panties, I mean, it’s not like that they would be seen anyway.
You decide to make the fit more formal with a small black skirt and finish the look with matching heeled boots paired with white frilly socks.
You give your puppy a kiss and apply maybe too much perfume before heading out the door.
You text him once you arrive, looking up at the tall building in front of you. You figured he would have a nice place, but this was unreal. The marble flooring of the lobby echoes as you pace in your boots. Hearing the elevator ding, you look over and are rewarded with the sight of your date.
He’s in a maroon sweater with jeans. You try not to think about how good the denim looks stretched across his strong thighs.
You greet him with a hug, one that reminds you of the way that he embraced you back at the train station.
“Hey there,” he greets you, pulling back to look at you. “You get here okay?”
You hum a yes, and he responds with a soft “good” while leading you into the elevators.
The entire ride up, he can’t help but stare. Did you even know how good you smelt right now? He could feel his hands getting clammy - dammit - the date hadn't even started, what does he have to be nervous about?
The elevator opens up to a small entrance way with a shoe rack.
Holy shit - he lived in a fucking penthouse.
After taking off your shoes, he gives you a little tour of his place.
Surprise, surprise - it’s fucking massive.
You don’t know what you’re expecting with a pro hero, but by the looks of it, it’s clear he lives alone. The entire place has minimalist decor, focused on simple and neutral colors. Everywhere you looked, it was clean and tidy, and you wondered if he had maids or was just a neat freak.
He leads you into the dining area.
“It smells really good!” you say, looking around the dining room as he walks into the kitchen.
You take a good look at him as he walks, admiring how he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater to cut some more vegetables. Jesus - the veins in his arms.
“You look good” you say without even thinking.
Bakugou pauses cutting, and you can swear you can see the tips of his ears turn red.
“Tch, I should be saying that about you.” He turns to face you, red eyes glancing up and down your figure. You can’t help but look away, bashful from the attention.
He smirks, watching you squirm under his gaze.
“What? Can dish it out but can’t take it?” He teases, the same shit eating smirk plastered on his face as he walks over to you, pulling out one of the end chair tables for you.
“Dinner should be ready in a few – what do you want to drink?” He questions, walking back to the kitchen.
“Whatever is easiest! I’m not picky,” he clicks his tongue at your response.
“Not what I asked.” He states bluntly, using the knife he’s holding to jester to the small door behind you.
“Got a little wine cellar in there, you can pick something out if ya want. Or I got beer and water in the fridge.”
Oh god: a decision. You know you didn’t have much time to overthink. You instinctively lean towards the beer, having always been an enjoyer ever since your college days, but would that seem too casual? Picking out a wine stresses you out even more - you have no clue what his preference would be. You typically like a sweet wine, but after hearing his coffee order, you doubt he would want something sweet. Plus, you couldn’t handle the guilt of opening something expensive.
You bite the bullet and finally pick.
“I’ve got some Asahi and some Sapporo.”
“Shut up!” You shoot up from your chair, walking over to the fridge to inspect.
You open up and lo and behold, your favorite beer - Asahi Super Dry. You pull one out and flash him a smile
“These are my favorite! It’s the first beer I had in Japan,” you reminisce, opening the tab. “I know it’s not the highest quality, but it tastes like home.”
He chuckles. All the other women he’s had over before typically go for his most expensive wine bottle, so seeing you starry-eyed over a cheap can of beer can’t help but make him laugh.
“Glad I stocked up then.”
You take a sip contentedly, walking over to watch him cook. “Do you need any help?”
“No,” he says while turning off the stove, “you sit yer pretty self down, and I’ll bring the food over.”
His heart squeezes as he watches you put your hands together, thanking him for the meal. You grab utensils and look to him for the first bite - his skin prickles under the weight of your attention. He looks away, shoving a bite into his mouth. You follow suit.
Mina wasn’t lying when she said he was a good cook, and as much as you hated it - you couldn’t help but wonder how accurate this Gordon Ramsay comparison was.
You take your time savoring each bite, holding your hand over your mouth as you chew. A comfortable silence is held between the two of you for the first couple of minutes of the meal before you look up and are met by his piercing red gaze.
Oh God, were you eating weird? You straighten up a little bit and look down, before playing with your napkin on your lap - as you ring your fingers around the napkin, you clear your throat.
“This is amazing, Bakugou. How long have you been cooking?”
“It's something I’ve done since my school years, it was easier to bulk and get the calorie intake I needed if I was making my own meals. - Plus, everyone else’s cooking was ass, so why would I deal with that when I could make a perfectly fine meal myself?
You giggle, admiring how unapologetically he was himself.
“So, do you have a favorite dish to make? Or just eat”
“Hmmm,” He thinks while chewing, “anything spicy.”
“Checks out - someone with an explosive quirk loves some fire?” You tease, taking a bite.
“What do ya keep doing that for?” He asks as he watches you raise your hand to cover your mouth while taking your bite.
You freeze, chewing slowly before swallowing.
“Doing what?” You nervously ask, beginning to fidget with your beer.
“Covering your mouth,” he speaks hesitantly, “I know you’re eating - you ain’t got a hide it” you flush it his bluntness, and you can feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
“Sorry, it’s a force of habit. I’m not used to people watching me eat.” You laugh nervously, looking back down at the napkin in your lap.
Fuck, he was fucking this up big time. Why would he even say that? It’s not like it’s an issue, he doesn't give a fuck what you do - he just wants you to be comfortable around him.
He sucks his teeth before responding, “Do what you want - I don’t care,” he states gruffly “but I like looking at your face.”
If your face wasn’t red before, you’re certain it is now. The compliment echoes around in your head. He likes your face. The face that you currently have on you. holy shit.
You let out a giggle, shooting him a smile and then taking a bite, leaving your other hand on the table
The rest of dinner is filled with easy conversation, catching each other up with what you haven’t texted about in the two weeks since you’ve seen each other last.
Once the conversation comes to a lull, you begin to stand up, grabbing both of your plates before he throws his arms up in surprise, looking almost offended.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
“I’m cleaning up! It’s only fair, you cooked,” you throw back at him.
“Like hell,” he follows you to the kitchen as you begin to put the dishes in the sink and fill it up with water, practically pouting as he watches.
“If you’re so butthurt then you can dry them, okay?”
He hums in agreement. As you pass him the silverware to dry, his stomach can’t help but twist at the domestic feeling the action has. The cleanup is quick - especially with four hands - and after drying off, you turn to him, looking up.
“Well, what now?” You ask.
Fuck, he hadn’t thought this far.
“Do you wanna watch a movie?”
“Yeah, that sounds awesome!” you answer, excited to keep the date going.
He leads you both to the living room, grabbing some blankets while you find a place on the couch.
He sits down next to you, with about a foot in between y’all.
“What do you wanna watch?” He questions, turning to hand you the remote. You search through, clicking on a streaming app. When his account opens, most of his top recommendations a romcoms.
He throws a side glance at you, waiting for a laugh or a mocking comment when you notice. Instead, you point excitedly to one of the recommended films.
“Oh! What do you think about this one? I love the lead actor.”
You silently thanked his algorithm. You were worried he was going to want to watch some action movie or war film - you weren’t expecting so many romantic recommendations, but you can’t help but feel warm getting to see this side of him.
Shortly after starting the film, you two begin to get comfortable. You pull your legs up, throwing the blanket he gave over both of your laps, while he casually throws his arm around your back. Mentally, you swoon over the gesture.
By halfway through the movie, the foot of space is gone, and you guys are practically cuddling. You try not to think about it too much, but you wonder if he could hear how loud your heart is racing.
You go to sneak a glance at him, but when you look over, he’s staring directly at you.
You freeze - eyes flickering from his gaze to his lips. For so much of him to be rough, his lips looked surprisingly soft
He lets out a breath as he notices the action before letting out a soft and low, “Hey.”
You can’t help but shiver, your face drawn to his as you let out a shy “hi.”
The arm that is behind your head moves, reaching underneath your hair and around your neck.
This was actually fucking happening.
Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips in anticipation, his red eyes immediately flicking down, catching the motion. He looks back up at you, his gaze dripping with want.
The next thing you know, your mouths are on one another.
Everything about the first kiss was soft: his lips, his grasp, your breath. Your fingertips tingle as your heart pounds.
The second kiss grows, and instead of brushing lips, there’s a clear intention behind it, his fingers tightening into the back of your hair while you reach up to finally touch his blonde locks.
You let out a sigh, feeling the silky threads run through your fingers, and he uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss, teasing your bottom lip with his tongue.
You allow him in, and a sloppy make-out ensues before you split apart breathless, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you.
He looks flustered, you think. His sight fixed on you, he swallows before letting out a gentle “Was that good?”
The question makes something within you snap. Was that good? Is he stupid? You had to show him just how much you wanted this.
You lean forward, throwing your arms around his neck and bringing him in for another kiss. He grunts as you embrace, and you feel a smirk dawn his lips.
“It was more than good,” you answer earnestly, biting your lip, “it was everything I wanted.”
“'Cause I’m the best,” he teases, bringing a hand up to move a stray hair behind your ear. You snicker at his jest, pushing his chest.
“Oh shut up.” You respond, rolling your eyes. He moves both hands to hold onto your arms, which are still around his neck.
“Make me.” He challenges with a raised eyebrow before leaning in to kiss you. You close your eyes and accept it happily, feeling his lips on yours again.
Suddenly, you feel his hands on your waist, and before you can break the kiss to question - you are hoisted up and onto his lap, a leg on either side.
You tear away with a gasp, your hands pressing against his chest. “I’m too heavy!” You say in a panic, moving to get up.
He grabs your hips, holding you in place, “bullshit - who the fuck said that?”
He lets go of you quickly, and you stay hovering above his lap.
“Look. I won’t make you sit like this if you don’t wanna, but don’t insult me by thinking I can’t handle my woman”
You’re unsure of what to say. You lick your now swollen lips, before slowly lowering yourself back on his lap. You pray he can’t feel the heat between your legs.
“No - I want this! It’s just…new,” You state, playing with the stitching of his sweater.
He takes your chin, lifting it up so your focus is on him. “I want this too. I want you”
The movie had long ended by the time you wrapped up your sloppy kissing session, the silence finally drawing your attention away. You lay your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his smoky scent before letting out a sigh and moving back over to his side.
“I’ll probably have to leave soon, if I want to make the last train,” you admit begrudgingly.
He lets out a grunt of acknowledgement, silently cursing that he couldn't stay in the moment forever. “Let me walk ya to the station.”
The walk is peaceful, and despite locking lips just hours ago, your heart quickens every time your hands brush as the two of you walk side by side. You spend the time sharing stories about your kiddos at work, cherishing each moment you can make him chuckle or smile while you talk. You can’t help but feel melancholy when you see the station.
“Thank you for today, Bakugou.” You turn to look up at him. “Everything was wonderful, thank you for taking the time to cook for me.”
He turns red at your praise. “Tch, it was nothing,” he shoves his hands in his pocket before moving his gaze back to you. “I had a really good time.”
His honesty has your heart bursting, giggling as you respond, “Me too.”
Neither of you can seem to look away, not wanting the night to end.
In a moment of desperation, you blurt out, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Before you can feel embarrassed, he breaks into a grin, walking towards you.
“Taking you out.” He answers before taking his hand out of his pocket to move it to pat the top of your head. He glances down at your lips, silently asking for permission.
You lean up, brushing his lips softly. “I can’t wait!” you respond as you pull away.
He looks over your face one last time before leaving a kiss on your cheek.
