KatsukiBakugoxFem!TeahcerReader
synopsis: Reader is KB’s little sister’s home room teacher. She's fighting for her life to be professional around him.
cw: internal conflict, ridiculous sexual tension, nsfw in part 3, mdni
A beautiful start to the spring semester. You stood at the door, today’s >attire<. Your Monday board was already up:
Ms. (Y/LN) infamous handshake?
One by one, they came in —tiny voices, backpacks, energy that filled the hallway. Then the last student stepped up. You already knew her name. You’d been looking forward to meeting her all morning.
You crouched slightly, smile easy, practiced, warm.
“Hi, Aria. I’ve been waiting for you.”
But you felt it before you even stood back up.
You straightened, smoothing your hands lightly over your outfit, and looked up and there he was.
Blonde hair, spiked like he didn’t care enough to tame it. Red eyes that didn’t soften when you met them. Tall —taller than most of the parents you saw every day —and built in a way that made it obvious he didn’t skip the gym.
Serious face. Not unfriendly… just not trying.
Except when he glanced down at his sister.
Soft. Immediate. Protective in a way that didn’t need to be said out loud. Your stomach did a small, inconvenient flip.
You smiled anyway. Professional.
You repeated it with a small nod, like it didn’t matter that your brain had already filed away everything else about him. Like you didn’t notice the way he was still looking at you.
He almost missed what you said. Not because he wasn’t listening —he always listened when it came to his sister. But because you didn’t look like what he expected.
You were shorter than him, but not in a way that made you seem small. Just enough that he had to look down slightly. Your eyes caught him first.
Then your mouth. Then everything else followed a little slower —your shape, the way your clothes fit like you actually thought about it before you left the house.
You looked like you always smelled good.
Clean. Soft. The kind of scent that lingered if someone stood too close.
But when you spoke to his sister, something in his expression shifted anyway.
And when you looked up at him—
But this time, he didn’t stop at the doorway.
His voice was lower than you expected.
You nodded, matching his tone with something lighter.
“Good morning, Mr. Bakugo”
There it was again —that look.
Aria rushed past him toward the board, already talking about something you couldn’t quite catch.
He didn’t follow her right away.
“She talked about you all night.”
You smiled —automatic, polite.
“I take good care of her.”
Because now you were aware.
You don’t date parents. You don’t even entertain it.
It’s unprofessional. Complicated. Not worth it.
So why does that feel like a compliment?
You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. You just needed something to do with your hands.
“She already likes it here,” he added.
You nodded, stepping slightly to the side to give him space —while also very much aware of how little space there actually was.
He didn’t leave right away again.
Even as your pulse did something a little less controlled.
You’ll shut it down if it becomes something.
He finally turned, following his sister in with his eyes before heading out.
And this time you watched him go.
By the third day, it wasn’t a coincidence anymore.
Not long enough to be obvious.
“Good morning, Mr. Bakugo”
Aria ran ahead again, leaving the two of you in that now -familiar space by the door.
And neither of you rushed to fill the silence.
You blinked, just slightly thrown off.
A small breath left you, almost a laugh.
“They’re five. It doesn’t last long.”
“You always this patient?”
That didn’t feel like a normal question.
You tilted your head just a little, folding your hands together in front of you to keep them still.
It was your usual answer.
Low. Not quite challenging, but not accepting it either.
You knew this was coming.
Set the boundary. Keep it clean.
“You don’t have to stay,” you added lightly. “She’s settled in already.”
It should have sounded like a dismissal.
Like he heard what you said and chose not to move anyway.
If he pushes, I’ll say it.
Just gave a small nod, like he was filing something away.
But the look he left you with?
you felt it long after he was gone.
By the fourth day, it felt… familiar.
That shouldn’t have happened this fast.
You said it a little more deliberately this time.
His eyes flicked to your mouth for half a second at the title—
“You’re always this nice?” he said, voice even, “or just with my kid?”
Closer to something you could actually name.
But there was a hint of something else in it now.
“I’m nice to all my students’ parents, Mr. Bakugo”
You let the title sit there.
So why did that feel like you were playing with him instead of shutting him down?
He shifted his weight slightly, stepping just a fraction closer.
Not enough to be inappropriate.
he didn’t sound unconvinced.
He sounded like he didn’t care.
Your fingers pressed lightly together, grounding yourself.
Instead, you held his gaze.
Just long enough to feel it settle in your chest.
You’re letting this happen.
“Have a good one,” he said finally.
The classroom felt different after hours.
Like everything that usually blended into background noise was suddenly… noticeable.
You were organizing papers when you felt it.
Like someone had stepped into your space without touching you.
“Didn’t think you’d show,” you said, keeping your tone light.
He walked in slower this time.
You set the papers down, giving him your full attention now —whether you meant to or not.
“Most parents don’t make it to these.”
Closer than any of the other mornings.
“You always this formal outside of school too?”
You exhaled a quiet laugh before you could stop it.
His voice dipped just enough to make you notice.
“…or is that just for me?”
You don’t date parents. You don’t entertain this. You—
his jaw tightened slightly.
Just enough for you to notice.
He dragged his tongue over his lower lip —quick, controlled, like he caught himself doing it.
You cleared your throat, shifting your weight, forcing your focus back up to his eyes.
Silence stretched between you.
“You can drop the ‘Mr. Bakugo you know.”
Didn’t pretend you didn’t understand what that meant.
Your lips curved slightly.
You didn’t correct yourself.
You didn’t add the title back.
The way he looked at you after that—
like he’d been waiting for it sat heavy in your chest.
You should say something.
Reestablish the line before this turns into something you can’t control.
So you do what you’re good at.
“Did you guys just move to the area?” you ask, reaching for the papers again, keeping your tone light. “Aria’s been adjusting really well. She’s great in class.”
He watches you while you speak.
Not distracted. Not polite.
“Yeah,” he says. “Recently. She’s fine, though.”
You nod, glancing down at the paper in your hands.
“I can tell. She’s comfortable here already.”
“She talks about you a lot.”
So why does it feel like it’s not about Aria right now?
You force yourself to keep going.
“How’s she doing at home? First couple weeks can be a lot for them.”
“My sister stays with her aunt on weekends.”
“Fridays through Sunday,” he adds. “Gives her time with her cousins.”
You nod anyway, keeping your expression neutral.
“That’s nice. It’s good for her to have that consistency.”
You hear it the second it leaves your mouth.
His eyes don’t move from yours.
Like he’s watching you try to keep this where it belongs and deciding whether to let you.
He steps just a little closer.
Not enough to cross a line.
Enough to make one feel like it’s there.
“You always got somewhere to be in the mornings?”
No space left to pretend.
You don’t date parents. You don’t blur lines. You don’t—
The word lands between you, simple and steady.
He watches you like he already knows you’re not going to shut this down the way you should.
That’s exactly how it starts.
So why have you been waiting for him to ask?
Because even you don’t sound convinced.
His expression doesn’t change.
Doesn’t fill the silence.
You exhale slowly, eyes flicking away for the first time since he walked in—
“…Just coffee.” It’s quiet.
Like if you say it any louder, it becomes something else.
His mouth shifts —barely.
Something close. He reaches into his biker jacket and hands you a menu from a coffee shop.
He steps back first this time.
Like he didn’t just tilt something in your chest completely off balance.
You nod once, like this is normal.
Like this happens all the time.
you’re still standing there, papers in hand—
your thumb dragging absently along the edge of the menu,
your thoughts nowhere near the classroom anymore,
and that one word sitting heavier than it should—
