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willowser · 2 years

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bakugou is at your apartment, when you get home.

you recognize his car in a spot that's usually vacant, over by the mailboxes in the back lot no one ever parks in. it's the only one he ever uses when he comes over, the only time it's ever used, and the sight of it has something tingling in your belly. he didn't tell you he was coming, no text or missed call, and your first thought is one of worry.

maybe he’s here to break up with you, in person because he's not a coward, or he's getting the few things of his to take back to his house. maybe he's not all that interested in you anymore. he's a busy guy, busy life, probably meets all kinds of beautiful people on the daily. he just got back from a three week case a few days ago; maybe he met someone new.

maybe it's not even him. maybe it's deku or kirishima in his car because something's wrong—

when you fling the front door open, bakugou is standing in your tiny kitchen. shoulders raised. popping the joints of his knuckles as he glances from the tv to you. he's alive and fine and he's kind of glaring at you but he's kind of always glaring at you, and it's not the kind that makes him look actually angry.

"hey," you breathe, and he nods once, mouth in a stiff line as he scratches the back of his head.

it smells—good. you realize it delayed, but once your mind catches up with the sound of a sizzling pan and the sight of him in a pair of soft sweatpants and the garlic fragrance in the air, you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt. bakugou squeezes a fist at his side, but drops it just as quickly.

you dump your bag on the ground and shuffle out of your shoes, moseying up to him to plant a fat kiss on his cheek, that he accepts with little reluctance. he runs a palm down your back firmly, quickly, before pressing his mouth against your hairline as a silent greeting. so close to him, you can peer over the curve of his shoulder to see the plates that are already made and waiting on the counter, and when you step back, he turns before you can ask any questions.

the few veggies he'd been finishing get served into the second plate and he makes you sit at the shoddy dining table before placing the food in front of you, without a word. he still hasn't really said anything, and so you ask, "is this for me?" and it's not about the food. it's about the act, whatever this is. him, being here unannounced. waiting for you after work, looking soft and cuddly and kissable.

bakugou grumbles, "who else?" before shoving a steamy carrot into his mouth and any leftover fear about getting dumped is tossed out the window. he still doesn't say much, but he listens to you prattle on about work, shakes his head when you recount the ugly thing a customer said to you—trying to hide his smile when you tell him how you clapped back at the dirtbag—and he asks you, once, if the food is any good.

"of course," you smile and it drops his eyes back to his plate. "always is. thank you for doing this, by the way, it's—i'm so touched. seriously. thank you."

you two haven't been dating all that long, a couple of months maybe. four or five; it's hard to say exactly when you crossed into this territory, going from texting every other week to getting drinks on his off days to sleeping at his house more than you probably should. nothing really official happened, just one day you decided to visit him at work and when the receptionist asked who you were to him before buzzing you in, you'd said,

"i guess i'm—we're sort of, uh, seeing each other, maybe. i guess."

and she'd called his office and told him, "dynamight, sir, your girlfriend is here to see you."

and he'd come down, looking more surprised than you'd ever seen him, and he said, "yeah. she's—let her in, or whatever. she's—my girlfriend. yeah."

and that was it.

now he's in your apartment, unannounced, cozy and sweet, shooing you away so he can do the dishes.

"'s my damn mess, so get out and lemme clean it."

when he finishes, he comes to sit on the couch at the opposite end, snorting when you bounce your way into his lap, back against the arm so that you can lay your legs across him, and he pretends not to notice all the attention you're giving him. you think it makes him uncomfortable, something that always surprises you, but he's been like this before. unable to look at you, stiffening almost imperceptibly every time you touch him.

you run a hand through his hair, pinching at the thin skin of his ear until it makes him flinch, and then you whisper, "hey," for him to finally look back at you.

he's frowning, and he doesn't say anything.

which makes you frown, has that worry coming back. "everything okay?"

bakugou huffs. "somethin' gotta be wrong in order for me to come see you?"

you press your lips together, because you don't want to rile him up. you're learning that it's easier to do when he's soft like this. as if he's exposed and expecting a fight. he must realize what he's doing, the defensive act, and he sighs, returning his gaze to the tv as he squeezes your thigh.

"'m fine."

doesn't sound like it, but maybe that's just him. it feels like there's so much you know about bakugou, and yet as if there's still much to learn. it excites you in a girly, giddy way, getting to meet all his different sides. "hey," you grab his cheeks in your hand tightly so that his lips pucker, turning him to you again. his eyebrows pull down hard and you can tell he's getting ready to thrash out of your grip, so you give him a quick kiss that turns him red when you pull away.

you tuck into the curve of his neck, kissing the thick vein there, and you laugh when he squirms. bakugou squeezes you again in quick succession until you're squirming, and you aren't looking at him, but you think he might be smiling. playful.

the tv plays on for a while before he finally clears his throat. "case lasted three weeks, or whatever." you hum in acknowledgement and nestle further into him, into his warmth. "felt like for-fuckin'-ever."

"i bet, you're probably worn out, huh?"

tch. "no, 'm fine. just sayin'. it's—been a while."

you sit up to look at him, though he's purposely keeping his eyes elsewhere. anywhere that's not you, as the heat on his face burns to the tips of his ears. he must be able to feel how intently you're watching him, because the longer you look, the deeper his frown gets.

the bigger your smile gets. "what, d'you miss me or something?" he scoffs, but doesn't say anything. doesn't disagree. against your leg you feel him again, making that fist just to drop it. your smile melts down into something real. soft. "bakugou," you poke at his cheek until he jerks his face away, scowling. it makes you laugh and he tries to disentangle himself from you, but you just wrap your arms around his neck to hug him tighter, pressing your lips to his hair. "i missed you, too. i was so excited to see you here, i love having you over."

it takes a minute, but he finally relaxes into you, turning his own face into the curve of your shoulder, hiding. you feel his lips right under your ear, slightly damp from biting them too much. all he says is, "yeah" and you don't know exactly what he's answering to, but you think—when you feel him smile, just a bit before nipping you—that he might love being over too.

#idk what this is #self indulgent really LOL #i wanted domestic bkg #and i love early relationships #where you're learning how to reveal yourself to someone #how to put your trust in them #i'm—an incredibly touchy person #bakugou would get so sick of me LOL i'd be trying to crawl into his shirt #sleeping with my legs all wrapped around him #maybe he needs someone like that who knows? ;)#bakugou drabble #again #bc i cant write anything coherent except for this kind of thing rn #i didnt proofread this either whoops #hope this makes any sort of sense !! LOL #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: domestic bakugou

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