Work Text:
It would be nice spending time with Bakugou. Well, time outside of training and studying. The two of you usually kept busy enough that there wasn’t a whole lot of time for frivolity. That particular Saturday though, the two of you had managed to schedule a night out together. The plan was casual enough: some dinner, a bit of bar hopping, and then coming home for the, uh… after party . Of course you were eagerly looking forward to it.
And apparently so was he. You heard an impatient knock on your door just as you were finishing up getting dressed. “Hey, you ready or what?” he asked in his usual gruff facade as he opened the door and made his way inside your dorm room. He stalled for just a split second, watching your fingers avidly as they started to button your blouse from the bottom up.
“You need to be more patient,” you chuckled, watching him step closer out of the corner of your eye.
Without a word he replaced your hands on your blouse, big and firm, but nimble nonetheless as he finished up the task you’d started. It was his own odd and begrudging, but no less sweet gesture. He left the top few buttons loose, leaving your neck, collar bones, and a ghost of cleavage exposed. Then his hands traced down your curves to tug you closer, pinning you against his full, plush form. You had to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes, your fingers curling into the thick padding of his hips as they bulged just slightly over the waistband of his pants.
“I think you just like keeping me waitin’,” he mused dully in a husky growl, his hands were firm against your back, holding you close and forcing his soft belly to mold against you. “You think it’s fun.”
“Maybe,” you hummed back casually, your fingers kneading into his love handles of their own accord. “It’d be a lie to say it isn’t flattering. Now come on. I’m ready if you are.”
“Been ready,” the blond confirmed. He gave you one last squeeze before releasing you and lead the way out of your room down to the commons, then out the front door.
Bakugou had gradually taken to the small nuances of dating someone. Things like holding hands. When things had first started between you two, it had been something you’d request and he’d begrudgingly allow, but now things had oddly reversed. As the two of you made your way into town he was quick to clasp his hand around yours, nearly dwarfing your palm and slim digits. His thumb ran subtly along your knuckles, but aside from that he was as stoic and nearly unreadable as ever.
If you had to guess it was his own way of being protective, of making sure there was no question about your relation to each other. It served as a sign that you were his, and a warning for nobody to fuck with you. Likewise, he was yours, and had no intention of being anything otherwise. Like most of the things he did, it was oddly sweet in his own sour kind of way.
The walk to the restaurant was quick and casually quiet, neither of you making much conversation until you sat down together and started scanning over the menu. He probably had a pretty good idea of what he wanted, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to weigh all his options. More likely than not he’d end up ordering two entrees, some appetizers, and possibly dessert too. Just like him, his appetite had grown a lot since the two of you had first met.
The last time you two had checked he was just over a whopping three-hundred and fifty pounds. And that had been quite the milestone. You wouldn’t have necessarily said it was a goal or a clear idea either of you had in mind, but he was steadily creeping his way up to the four-hundred pound mark. As if triggered by this thought, you couldn’t help but smile as you noticed him scrutinizing the menu.
“Having a hard time choosing?” you asked with a thoughtful raise of your brows, noticing his lips twitch and purse as he shifted in his seat. Even that light insinuation was enough to have his cheeks flushing a bit. “We both know you can’t compromise when it comes to food.”
The glare he attempted fell flat in comparison to the shade of pink dying his cheeks. He rolled his eyes before letting his gaze fall back down to his menu. “Who’s compromising?” he asked blandly, making it more than clear that he definitely wasn’t. And you were fine with that.
Just as you’d predicted he made a point to order as much as he wanted with no holds barred. That turned out to be a lot. He started by ordering a shot of whiskey, and if you had to guess it wouldn’t be the only one for the night. It wasn’t particularly often that he drank, but when he did get the chance he took advantage of it. From there he gave an easy and efficient bullet list for his feast of choice: mozzarella sticks, jalapeno poppers, and boneless wings to start, then an order of chicken parmesan. He surprised the waitress when he added an order of bacon carbonara, then gestured to you with a nod as a signal to tell her what you wanted.
Despite the large order and Bakugou’s characteristic gruffness, the waitress made no comment as she jotted everything down. The only sign that she was at all perturbed was a slight raise of her brows in your boyfriend’s direction, and maybe a glimpse over his broad, soft shape. You were glad he hadn’t seemed to notice, or just didn’t care. His shot of whiskey and your soda came first, followed by the three helpings of appetizers he’d asked for.
He let you pick off of them of course, but you both knew who it was all really for. A mozzarella stick here or a wing there, all the while your eyes were trained on his mouth and his pretty, full lips. You only drew them away briefly to watch him dip and stir a stick in the marinara sauce to generously coat it, then guided it upwards to bite into it and pull the oozing, stringy cheese in a long, melty strand.
When he caught you staring, just as he was carefully lapping the excess cheese into his mouth, a new, pink flush rose on his cheeks as he raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t an entirely surprised expression, nor was it incredulous. It was almost teasing. He finished off his current mouthful, licking crumbs and grease away from his lips before speaking. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked in a bland tone, though his fidgeting hands gave him away.
You just smiled back, nodding confidently. “Sure am.”
Apparently that was enough to encourage him further. Biting back a small smirk of his own, he moved on from one appetizer to the next, eagerly indulging himself until his main dishes arrived. Without hesitating he took up his silverware, only pausing briefly to order another shot of whiskey before their waitress left. Once she’d turned to leave he stabbed his fork into his chicken parmesan and drive his knife through the tender, juicy meat to slice off a bite.
He audibly groaned when he pushed the mouthful past his lips, and you noticed his free hand move below the tabletop to give his rounded belly a soft, begrudging rub. There was no way he was getting full yet, but there was definitely a comfortable amount of food resting in his stomach now. All the while he watched you watching him, chewing and swallowing slowly as he worked through his second course. He didn’t start to slow down until that first plate was clean, moving on to his rich, buttery helping of pasta.
He twirled the sauce-drenched noodles around his fork, closing his mouth around them and shutting his eyes as he savored the taste. A little drop of creamy sauce stuck to the corner of his lips, and he made sure to make direct eye contact with you as he licked it away. Maybe your stomach gave a little flutter at the visual, but you didn’t let on as you enjoyed your own meal.
He was a handful of shots in by the time his pasta had disappeared, his cheeks flushed for more reasons than one and his eyelids drooping slightly over his hazy, crimson iris’. Full, drunk, and maybe a little sleepy, he was hunching slightly in his half of the booth, the position pressing his stuffed gut into the edge of the table and forcing the flesh to indent around it. The waitress came around again, asking if you two were ready for the check. He didn’t even get the chance to look up at her before you answered for him.
“I think we’ll share a dessert. The vanilla bean cheesecake with caramel drizzle, please.”
He didn’t even bother to look surprised, just quirked a brow at you and shifted in his seat. No doubt he was enjoying himself, and he certainly didn’t try to stop your interjection. You knew he could take it anyway, especially if you had a couple bites for yourself. Just a couple though. He knocked back one last shot of whiskey before the generous slice arrived, and he sat up a bit to better eat it, only to click his teeth at the way his belly was dug into deeply by the tabletop.
There were two forks, one for each of you, and he was the first to grab one. Still, he allowed you the first bite. It was rich and creamy, lightly sweet and complemented by the salty-sugar of the caramel topping. You swallowed your mouthful before nodding with a little grin. “It’s really good,” you assured him, and that was enough to prompt him to dig his fork in for a bite. “You’ll like it.”
If not for the busy restaurant, you wouldn’t have hesitated to scoot in beside him and offer to feed him one bite after another. Even still it was tempting, but you figured it best to wait until you two were alone to spoil him too much. For now it was good enough just to watch him polish off his meal with the rich confection. By the time he was finished there was no question about how full he was, and tipsy to boot.
No time was wasted in settling the check, and you were quick to get up and skirt over to his side of the booth to help him up. Not that he ever would’ve admitted to needing help. It was as surprising as it was telling when he allowed you to tug him up by the arm, then stay close by as you lead him out of the restaurant and to the nearest bus stop. Luckily there were plenty of open seats. The two of you sat down, and he made a point to pull you in closer by the waist.
You didn’t mind. The bus was fairly empty, so you had no qualms with curling against him and resting your cheek on his soft chest.Your arm wrapped loosely (or at least tried to) around his waist, mindful of its full capacity. If you gave a few subtle, loving strokes he did nothing but hum under his breath to show he’d noticed. His hand squeezed slightly around your hip, but before he could get too cozy you heard him grunt softly in annoyance.
Before you could even question what was wrong he’d answered by using his free hand to yank down the unruly hem of his t-shirt. He was so full and rounded that it was riding up slightly over the swell of his muffin top, not that you minded. And if the two of you had been entirely alone, he wouldn’t have either. It was cute to see him acting so stubborn though, not that you would’ve said so out loud. At least, not at the moment.
At least he didn’t have to endure it for very long. The bus reached your stop within ten minutes, and from there the two of you walked the rest of the way to the dorms. It was slow going, considering his current state, but that just made it even more gratifying when you were both able to relax. You guided him up to his dorm, and he in turn guided you into his lap as he sat down on the edge of his bed. He didn’t even give you a chance to snuggle into him or get truly cozy before laying back, leaving you to straddle his broad hips.
He was always needy when he was like this. Stuffed full, drunk with overindulgence. And just drunk in general, though that was more rare. Either way, he was always pliant and oddly docile when over encumbered with food. That was fine with you; it just made it even easier to tease him and love him without his characteristic stoicism.
This time was like any other as he settled into the mattress and made himself comfortable. He raised his gaze to you expectantly, lips slightly parted and eyes hooded as he lifted the hem of his shirt. The complete opposite of his efforts on the bus home, now that it was only you looking. “Well?” he asked, his voice low and rasping. He sounded a bit out of breath, but mostly uncomfortable now that he was left to deal with the aftermath of his binge. “Do I need to send out a formal invitation or what?”
Not necessary. You smiled down at him, answering his sarcasm by putting your hands to work against the taut dome of his gut. An immediate shudder rocked through him upon the contact, a purring little groan rising in his throat as your palms traced circles into the sensitive flesh. “Better?” you asked, your tone mildly taunting.
His brows pinched and lips pursed in weak annoyance, but he was too blissed out to truly retaliate. “Shut up,” he mumbled, his own hands raising to rest limply against your thighs.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” you mused with a soft laugh, employing your nails gently as you catered to his aching, full belly. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”
Whether it was the remark itself or the wistful tone you’d used, a shaky sigh whispered past his lips in response, his fingers curling tighter against your legs. By that point his inebriation and general neediness had caught up to him too much to form words, and your loving touches certainly didn’t aid him. His hazy eyes slipped closed, his own palms beginning to rub up and down your thighs in his own simple show of affection.
The longer you rubbed over his stiff belly, the more his muscles relaxed and the more pressure you applied. Your fingertips gently prodded and pressed against him, massaging into his flesh and drawing quiet, strained groans from him. The sounds were caught between discomfort and satisfaction, his stomach no doubt painfully churning away, but your touches managing to soothe him.
“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, as if you didn’t already know the answer. It was just part of the ritual by that point, and neither of you minded that.
Normally he’d hesitate or try to play tough, but as tame as he was in that moment he just nodded with a little groan. “Kinda,” he muttered, but you both knew better. Still, his tone held a note of pride and contentment. “That feels good though…”
He trailed off, his voice rasping quietly as he shifted underneath you. His assurance encouraged you further, and you leaned down to pepper his warm, rounded cheeks with kisses. Another shuddering sigh escaped him, his arms looping loosely around you as you melded your lips with his. The kiss was slow and lingering, and when you parted from him it was only to trail along his soft jawline, then down his neck to nibble and peck at the skin.
You made your way further down, kissing his chest until you had to slip down his lap so you could run your lips over the tight drum of his belly. All the while your hands still circled and stroked over the skin, paying attention wherever your mouth couldn’t. You were so engulfed in your task you almost didn’t notice when he started combing through and tugging affectionately at your hair. The sensation pulled a pleased hum from your throat, and you lifted your gaze to try and meet his over his swollen stomach.
There was no way of knowing how long you carried on like that before kissing your way back up his body, and locked lips with him again for a longer, more forceful exchange. His teeth scraped your bottom lip, both of your hands tangling into each other’s hair until he was willing to let you go. Then you rolled off of him, but kept close to his body. You curled up against his side, one hand propped up under your head while the other kept comforting the ache in his gut.
“You must be tired,” you remarked quietly, nuzzling into his neck and prompting his arm to curl around you, hugging you firmly. He shrugged and offered a dull, incoherent grunt, but it was obvious you had him all figured out. “C’mon, let’s get you settled, okay?”
It took a bit of coaxing, but eventually you managed to get him to sit up enough to pull the blankets out from under him. With a belligerent groan, he turned his body to lay properly in bed, scooting in enough to give you plenty of room to lay beside him. He stayed on his back, purring under his breath as you continued tracing adoring circles into his belly, until he drifted asleep. Only then did your movements gradually slow before going entirely still, and you allowed yourself to rest comfortably against the pillow of his chest, breathing in his familiar scent and appreciating his warmth until you too drifted off.