18+
you didn’t mean to send it to him.
really, you didn’t!!! the plan was simple: try on the lingerie set you panic‑bought for your first ever tinder date this weekend, snap a quick photo of the lacy orange set in the mirror, and send it to mina for her honest opinion. easy.
except you weren't paying much attention. and now your phone screen is staring back at you in horror: Message sent to: Katsuki Bakugou.
you swear your heart might have actually stopped. The phone almost drops as you scramble to type WRONG CHAT before he can even open it, but the three little dots appear instantly. of course he saw it. bakugou’s annoyingly fast like that.
the call comes through 30 seconds later.
“you fucking serious right now?” his voice is low, rough, carrying that familiar mix of irritation and something else you haven't heard before.
you squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the phone to your ear. “imsosorry. it wasn’t for you, katsuki. I swear I was sending it to mina.”
“yeah, no shit?” he scoffs, but there’s a pause on the other end, long enough that you feel heat creeping all the way up your neck. “the hell you sendin’ her pictures like that for anyway?”
you freeze. “because she’s my friend? because i wanted an opinion?”
his exhale is sharp, static buzzing in your ear. “you’re wearin’ that for a date?”
you swallow, throat feeling strangely dry. “yeah. why?”
another beat of silence. and then, lower, almost like it slips out of him on accident. “he doesn’t deserve that.”
your stomach flips. bakugou never says things like that. not to you, at least. he’s your best friend, your anchor, the one who’s been around since forever. you try to laugh it off, shaky and thin. “it’s just lingerie, katsuki.”
“‘just lingerie,’ my ass.” his voice drops even further, rasping now, deliberate, pulling the words slow. “don’t go wearin’ shit like that for some random extra. he won't even know what to do .”
your chest tightens. the warmth in his tone makes you bite your lip without thinking. “and you would?”
there’s a pause. a faint chuckle. “don’t know. maybe.” his voice is low, teasing now, and you can almost feel him leaning closer.
your breath catches. you don’t answer for a minute. you can’t. because suddenly you’re replaying the picture in your head—except it’s not some faceless tinder dude seeing you in it anymore. it’s him. "katsuki?" is all you can comeuppance with when you finally do speak.
“don’t start something you can’t finish,” he mutters, quieter now, his voice rough in your ear.
and then the line goes dead. your phone feels impossibly heavy in your hand.
