Having thoughts about possessive!Bakugo at a public hero event.
His voice dropped lower. “You know exactly what that did to me.”
There were too many people watching now.
But he didn’t care. He stepped closer. Breach of space. Breath to breath. One hand moving to you lower back—not rough, but firm—enough of a statement to guide you back toward the edge of the room.
You could’ve resisted.
You didn’t.
You vanished through a side hall lined with deep shadows and velvet tapestries, and the moment conversations around you turned into distant whispers and laughter turned to white noise, he backs you into a wall with a hand on either side of your head.
He wasn’t touching you. But the want was vibrating off of him like heat.
“Don’t do that again,” he said. “Don’t laugh like that for someone else.”
You stare up at him, breathing shallow. “You don’t get to decide who I smile at, Bakugo.”
“I know.” His jaw flexed. “But I still want to.”
There it was. The raw truth he never let slip. Not in the light. Not around others.
And gods, it burned your chest.
“You’re jealous,” you said, stunned.
“I’m furious,” he corrected. “Because he looked at you like you were his to charm. And you—” He leaned closer, voice now a whisper against your lips. “You let him think he had a chance.”
Your pulse pounded.
You didn’t reply.
Didn’t have to.
Because then, slowly—deliberately—Bakugo’s hand came to rest against your jaw. Thumb brushing your cheek like he was trying to remember who you belonged to.
And he said it again. Quieter this time.
“Don’t do that again.”
You whispered back, voice shaky. “Then stop running from this.”
Silence.
Then he kissed you.
Not gently.
Not sweetly.
But like he was trying to undo every second you hadn’t been in his arms.
