𑣲 sex in front of a mirror with katsuki. it’s his absolute favorite. ⋆｡° — SMUT! ♡♡
katsuki loves to watch you in the mirror while he fucks you—especially when you watch too.
watching your wrecked face in the mirror is all he cares about, as he slams his dick into you over the bathroom counter. squeezing your hips and keeping his hand tight around your neck, he murmurs—"you look so fuckin' good looking at me while i stretch you out."
"you like that?" you love it. seeing his low-lidded, possessive eyes while he completely owns you drives you wild. it drives you right over the edge too..
when keeping your eyes open gets harder, his hand tightens on your neck as he whispers in your ear. "look at the mirror, baby, keep them open."
he keeps his relentless pace, his chest pressing hot against your back as his fingers dig deeper into your hip, holding you steady. the heat of his cock sliding deep inside you is almost too much, making your knees buckle as the pleasure threatens to completely pull you under.
"i'm not letting you slip away yet." he drives his cock even deeper, his hips hitting yours with a heavy thud that makes you cry out. his grip keeps you focused, forcing your watering eyes to stay locked on his reflection in the glass.
"look at how much you're shaking for me." he groaned out, his chest vibrating against your back as he drags his cock out slow, only to slam back in even harder. "shit.."
you whimper, your hands clawing at the cold marble counter for any kind of grip as your vision starts to blur.
losing control himself, he pants—"fuck, told you to keep your eyes open.."—his thrusts turn sloppy and needy.
when you finally break, your body seizing and spilling a hot mess all over his cock, you look so beautiful in the reflection.
the tight, pulsing squeeze of your soaked cunt around his dick is almost too intense for him to bear. he needs you to watch this—needs you to see your own wrecked, flushed face as you fall apart all over him.
you looked absolutely perfect. if he could fuck you in front of a mirror all day every day, he would.
✰ the indulger that is KATSUKI BAKUGO and his pretty baby who he spoils rotten ˖°.
𝘴̳𝘧̳𝘸̳ &̳ 𝘯̳𝘴̳𝘧̳𝘸̳ 𝘩̳𝘦̳𝘢̳𝘥̳𝘤̳𝘢̳𝘯̳𝘰̳𝘯̳𝘴̳ : fluff : 18+ mdni : established relationship : language : extremely spoiled!reader
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indulger!katsuki who is completely unapologetic about the way he spoils you, often using it as a weapon to shut down any argument. whenever you try to tell him he's “too much” or that he “doesn't need to spend so much,” he simply doubles down.
“too much? you think this is too much?” he points to the walk-in closet that is essentially a second bedroom, filled with luxury clothes and jewelry. “i make more money in a week than most people make in a year. what the hell else am i supposed to do with it? save it for a rainy day? it's always raining somewhere, you moron!”
“i just feel bad that you work so hard and then i—“
“shut up,” he silences you by pulling you into a deep, bruising kiss that tastes of cinnamon and heat. he breaks away just enough to whisper against your lips. “i work hard so i can see you in these clothes. i work hard so i can buy you things that make you smile like a damn idiot. your only job is to look pretty and be mine. everything else is handled. now, tell me what else you want. a new car? a trip to paris? just say the word, you spoiled little brat.”
this was the first year into your relationship. many more years later he would continuously complain about you being spoiled rotten, which you find ironic because he was the reason you turned out the way you are today.
indulger!katsuki who cannot handle a single pout from you, especially when you’re staring at something that costs more than a mid-sized sedan.
you both stood in the center of a glittering ginza boutique, the air smelling of expensive lilies and cold air conditioning. you didn’t say a word; you simply stopped in front of a gold necklace with a pear-cut diamond that caught the light in a way that made your eyes widen.
you looked at the jewel, then slowly shifted your gaze to katsuki, tilting your head with a small, hopeful shimmer in your eyes.
katsuki stopped dead in his tracks, his shoulders tensing under his your gaze. “don't even start with that look,” he barked, though his eyes didn't leave your face.
“i didn't say anything, katsuki.” you chuckled.
“you're saying it with your damn eyes! you're practically screaming 'buy me this overpriced rock' without opening your mouth! it's a piece of carbon, you greedy brat! do you have any idea how many zeros are on that price tag?” katsuki had his hands in his hips, looking down at you like he was your mom scolding you.
“i didn’t even ask for it, baby. just looking… it’s pretty, that’s all,”you let out a tiny, theatrical sigh and began to turn away, your shoulders slumping just a fraction.
“tch! stop it! get back here!" he grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but careful, and yanked you back toward the glass case. he slammed a hand onto the counter, making the sales clerk jump nearly a foot in the air. “wrap that one up! now! and put it in the fancy box so she doesn't complain that it looks cheap!”
“of course, sir! right away!” as the clerk hurried to package the necklace.
katsuki leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. “you're a manipulative menace. a spoiled, pampered little menace. you think you can just look at me and i'll cave? you think i'm some kind of pushover?”
you beamed, leaning into his chest. “yes!”
“damn right i am! for you i am! now let's get out of here before you decide you want the matching earrings too!”
“ooh! now that you mention it…”
indulger!katsuki who believes that “out of stock” is merely a suggestion and that rules don't apply when you want something.
you were in a high-end streetwear boutique, your eyes locked on a limited-edition cropped leather jacket. it was the only one in your size, and it was perched precariously on a headless mannequin in the window. the store manager had already told you three times that display items were not for sale.
you looked at the jacket, then at your boyfriend, your lower lip trembling just a bit. “let’s just go. he said i can't have it,” you whispered, looking devastated.
katsuki’s eyes snapped to the mannequin. he looked at the manager, who was sweating profusely, and then back to you. a slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. “what do you mean it's not for sale?”
“sir, it's the display model! it's meant to stay on the mannequin for the aesthetic of the window—”
“i don't give really a damn about the bullshit of your window. isn’t a store like this supposed to be taking money?! tch,”katsuki stormed forward, his heavy boots thudding against the polished floor. in one fluid, violent motion, he reached out and gripped the collar of the jacket. with a loud rip of plastic fasteners and a crash of the mannequin’s arm snapping off, he tore the garment right off the plastic form. he didn't even wait for the manager to react before he tossed the jacket over your shoulders. “there. now it's yours. stop looking like a kicked puppy.”
“katsuki! you can't just—”
“i just did! now, you,” he pointed a finger at the trembling manager, “ring this up. now. or i'll blow the front door off your hinges and pay for it in pieces.”
you giggled, hugging the leather to your chest. “you're so aggressive. aren’t you supposed to be a hero…? that wasn’t heroic at all.”
“did i steal it?! no, i didn’t. now shut up and pay for the damn thing with my card, you brat.”
indulger!katsuki who will cross entire prefectures just to satisfy a midnight craving because he can't stand the thought of you being unhappy.
it was 1:00 am on a tuesday. katsuki had just finished a grueling sixteen-hour shift dealing with a villain breakout in the city center. he was covered in soot, his muscles aching, and he had just collapsed onto the sofa. you crawled into his lap, rubbing your cheek against his chest. “kats baby... i really want that strawberry shortcake from that one bakery in chiba.”
he groaned, the sound vibrating through his ribs. “are you kidding me? chiba? that's an hour's drive! go to sleep!”
“but the cream is so light... and they use those organic strawberries... i can almost taste it.” you practically whined as you nuzzled closer to him like an annoying cat.
your boyfriend closed his eyes, praying for strength. he stayed silent for a full minute, his chest heaving. then, he let out a loud, frustrated scream and sat up abruptly, nearly dumping you off his lap. “god damn it! why are you like this? why can't you just want a normal snack from the convenience store?”
“because i'm your pretty baby?”
he glared at you, his vermillion eyes narrowing, but the heat in them wasn't anger. oh, no it wasn’t. it was absolute, unconditional devotion. no matter how hard he glared, you had him wrapped around your pretty manicured fingers that he also payed for.
katsuki stood up and grabbed his keys from the counter. “get in the car. if we get there and they're sold out, i'm leaving you on the sidewalk.”
“you love me too much for that.”
“tch. keep talking and i'll buy you a whole damn bakery and make you work there just so i never have to drive to chiba at midnight again!”
indulger!katsuki who expresses his love through a constant stream of “shut up” and “you're annoying,” while simultaneously funding your entire lavish lifestyle.
you were sitting on the bed, surrounded by a mountain of shopping bags from your latest spree. you were trying on a pair of towering gold heels that were probably impractical for any one human being to walk in.
katsuki walked into the room, stopping to stare at the chaos. “what the hell is all this? did you rob a bank while i was at the agency?”
“they were on sale!” you beamed up at him giddily as if that answered his question.
“on sale? you bought six pairs of the same shoe in different colors! you're a damn shopaholic is what you are!” katsuki had his hands on his hips as if he was your mom scolding you.
you stood up, wobbling slightly in the gold heels, and walked toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “but look how they make my legs look, kats.”
he looked down at your legs, then back up at your face. his expression shifted from irritation to a hunger that made your stomach flip. he gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, his palms warm through your clothes. “tch. your legs always look good. you don't need overly expensive gold shoes to make me want to rip your clothes off.”
“are you saying you don't like them?” you pouted at him.
“i'm saying i find it stupid how much money you spend on things that just make me want to keep you in the bedroom all day. now get those damn things off and c’mere."
indulger!katsuki who views your shopping addiction as a challenge to his bank account, and he loves winning. you once mentioned, in passing, that you liked a certain vintage watch that was being auctioned off, a piece that was practically unobtainable.
you didn't expect him to get it; you just liked the idea of it.
two weeks later, katsuki tosses a small, velvet box onto your lap while you're eating breakfast. “here. stop thinking about it. it’s starting to annoying me.”
you open the box to find the watch, its gold face gleaming. you gasp, looking at the price estimate you'd seen online. “katsuki bakugo! this cost... this is insane! why would you do this?”
“hah! because i can!” he yells, though there's a smirk playing on his lips. “because i'm the best, and my woman should have the best. i don't want you looking at some auction site like some extra. i want you to look at your wrist and remember that i'm the one who got it for you.” he pulls you into his lap, his arms locking around you. “i'll buy the whole damn auction house if it means you'll stop daydreaming and focus on me. you get it? everything you want is yours, as long as you remember who the hell provides it.”
you weren’t entirely sure what his deal was… he either loved you so much that he was willing to throw money at everything, he actually finds it annoying when you talk about stuff you want, or he loves flexing his hard-earned money.
it was all the above.
indulger!katsuki who treats every anniversary, birthday, holiday, or “just because” day as a competition to see how much he can possibly spoil you.
for your anniversary, he didn't just get you a gift; he rented out an entire rooftop garden in tokyo, filled it with your favorite flowers, and had a five-course meal prepared by a michelin-star chef after he went on a full-scale rant on how stupid it is to pull cliché “bullshit” like they do in the movies.
as you looked around the breathtaking setup, your eyes glistening with tears, he stood beside you, looking uncomfortable in a tailored black suit that hugged his broad shoulders. “stop crying, brat. it's just a dinner.”
“it's not just a dinner, kats! it's beautiful!”
“tch. it's whatever. i just didn't want you complaining that i didn't do enough this year." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. inside was a ring—not like the diamond one he'd bought you months ago, but a rare, deep red ruby that matched the color of his eyes.
“i saw this and thought it looked like something a greedy brat would want.” katsuki shrugged as if he was talking about the specials on the menu.
“katsuki...”
“don't get all mushy on me. just put the damn ring on so we can eat before the food gets cold. and don't think this means you can buy a new car next week.” he pointed a stern finger at you.
you laughed, sliding the ring onto your finger and throwing your arms around his neck. “i was thinking a yacht.”
your boyfriend froze, his eyes widening. “a yacht? who the hell wants a boat?!”
“a pretty one! with gold trim!”
katsuki sighed, but he was already pulling you closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tasted of promise and absolute, unwavering devotion. “fine. but if we get a yacht, i'm the captain. and you're just the pampered passenger who looks pretty.”
“deal.” you nodded your head eagerly.
“good because your also a terrible driver and i have no plans being the jack to your rose when we die in sea.”
“asshole! fucking forget it then!”
indulger!katsuki who can't maintain a professional demeanor when you decide you miss him too much to let him work.
you were at home, lounging in one of his oversized shirts, feeling particularly needy. you knew he was in the middle of a high-stakes strategy meeting with the top ten heroes. out of impulse, you sent him a message:
i'm so bored and the bed feels too big without you.
five minutes later, your phone buzzed.
stop sending me shit while i'm working, brat.
you replied: i might just go buy another little lingerie set to pass the time. i saw a gorgeous red set… oh, did i mention i’m wearing a black set rn
you quickly followed it up by sending him a single photo: a selfie of you biting your lip, nothing on but a black lace teddy set, sitting prettily in the bed.
his response was almost instantaneous it made you giggle.
stay. put.
another ten minutes passed before the front door slammed open with such force the windows rattled. katsuki stormed into the bedroom, still in his full hero gear, his arm bracers were removed and thrown on the couch in a blink of an eye. he looked absolutely livid, his chest heaving. “who the hell do you think you are, interrupting my meeting with a photo of you dressed like that?"
“i missed you,” you whispered, sliding off the bed and walking toward him.
“you're a menace. i had edgeshot staring at my phone screen for three seconds because i reacted too loud! i'm supposed to be a professional!”
you wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “are you going to go back, dynamight?”
katsuki looked down at you, his gaze darkening as he felt your warmth against him. he reached up, gripping your chin and tilting your head back. “not a chance in hell. now, since you wanted my attention so badly, you're going to spend the rest of the afternoon making up for the fact that i had to walk out of a very important meeting.”
“how?”
“shut up. i'll show you.”
indulger!katsuki who loves the way you beg, not just for things, but for him, and he takes his time making sure you earn every single touch.
he pulled back, his eyes scanning your flushed face, a smirk playing on his lips. he didn't move to take off the rest of your clothes; instead, he just watched you squirm beneath him, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. “what's the matter? you were so bold over text. where's all that energy now?”
“please... kats, please.” you squirmed.
“please what? be specific. i don't do vague requests.” your smug boyfriend tutted.
you arched your back, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. “i want you... i want you inside me. please.”
katsuki chuckled, a dark, rough sound. he shifted his weight, his hand sliding down to touch you, his fingers finding you already drenched and aching. he didn't push inside; he just teased the entrance, circling the sensitive peak of your center with agonizing movements. “tch, you're so impatient. you think because i get you whatever you want, you get the reward immediately? no. you're going to wait until i decide you've begged enough.”
“fuck—i'll do anything! just... please, baby!”
“anything? then tell me, brat. tell me how much you love being taken care off by me. tell me how much you love that i'm the only one who can handle you. the only one who is capable of giving you everything and anything you want.”
“i love it... i love you... i love that you're mine—hah… only mine,”
katsuki didn't wait another second. he ripped the loose shirt you were wearing upward, exposing you completely, and drove into you in one powerful thrust.
“oh! f-ffuuuck…” you screamed, the sound muffled by his mouth as he crashed his lips against yours, swallowing your cry. he moved with a violent, rhythmic intensity, his body a storm of heat and muscle, driving you deeper and deeper into the mattress.
indulger!katsuki who is surprisingly attentive during sex, ensuring that while he is dominant, your pleasure is the absolute priority. despite the aggression of his movements, his eyes never left yours. he watched every flicker of pleasure, every curl of your toes, every time your eyes rolled back in your head.
“look at me,” katsuki commanded, his voice strained.
“i'm... i'm looking!” you mewled as you fought your head from tilting backwards.
“tell me how it feels. tell me how i feel—ffuuuck, yeah, baby. take it just like that—inside you.” katsuki pounded you into the mattress, his knees bent as his hips moved relentlessly.
“it's perfect... you're... oh god, katsuki!” your nails digging into his back, marking him.
katsuki gritted his teeth, his pace increasing, his palms sparking slightly against the sheets, the scent of sweat and the burnt fabric filling the room. he reached down, his thumb finding your clit, the exact spot that sent you over the edge, adding a level of stimulation that made your entire body convulse.
“that's it... take it all, my greedy baby. take everything i give you.”
as you peaked, your voice breaking in a long, shuddering moan, he followed you, his body stiffening as he let out a low, primal roar, filling you completely. he collapsed against you, his breath coming in heavy heaves, his heart hammering against your chest like a trapped bird.
indulger!katsuki who becomes an insatiable force of nature when you are ovulating, turning your heightened desire into a marathon of pleasure that leaves both of you completely spent. and in his opinion, as much as he thinks you’re the best thing to ever exist, this version of you might take the cake.
you had told him you were in your peak window, and the moment the words left your lips, the air in the room had shifted. katsuki didn't just become more affectionate; he became obsessed.
“i can smell it on you,” he whispered, his voice a dark, predatory hum as he backed you against the bedroom wall. “you smell like you are wet f’me already.”
“i am,” you whimpered, your legs already shaking. “i can't stop thinking about you, baby. i want you inside me. now please.”
katsuki didn't need to be told twice. he ripped your clothes off, his movements frantic yet precise. he lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist. it didn’t take long before he drove himself into you with a force that made the wall rattle. “you are so wet,” he groaned, the sound of his cock sliding into your drenched pussy creating a loud, squelching noise that echoed in the room. “you are practically dripping for me.”
he fucked you for hours, moving you from the wall to the bed, then to the floor, and back again. every time you thought he was finished, every time he came in a loud, shaking burst of pleasure, he would look at you, at your flushed skin, your swollen lips, your pleading eyes, and he would harden again.
“more,” you sobbed, clutching his shoulders. “please, suki, more.”
“fucking hell. you are a bottomless pit, katsuki panted, his sweat dripping onto your chest. “i can't believe how much you can take. it is unbelievable.”
he explored every inch of you, his tongue tracing the line of your thighs, his fingers stretching you open before plunging back inside. he was rough and demanding, his voice a constant stream of praise and possession. “yes, take it all,” he commanded, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythmic thud. “you want this, don't you? you want your man to fill you up until you can't take another drop.”
by the time you were finally satiated, katsuki collapsed beside you, the sun was beginning to peak through the curtains. you were both covered in a mixture of sweat, saliva, and cum, your bodies entwined in a tangle of exhaustion.
“you are a monster,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, his voice sounding completely wrecked. “my beautiful, greedy little monster.”
you giggled, tracing patterns on his chest, “you tired? what happened, dynamight? i thought you were the best of the best.”
“i am going to spend the rest of the day making sure you stay this exhausted if you keep talking like that.”
indulger!katsuki who is unexpectedly devoted to your physical comfort in the aftermath of your endless love making, turning into a protective heater that refuses to let you go.
after a particularly grueling session where he's left you spent and breathless, he doesn't just roll over and sleep. he carries you into the oversized marble shower, the water steaming and hot. “stop shivering, you idiot. i've got you.”
“it’s not like i’m doing it on purpose,” you retorted, splashing him on the face with water which earned you a glare.
katsuki washes you with a slow, methodical care, his large hands scrubbing your skin with a luxury soap he bought specifically because you liked the scent of vanilla and sandalwood. he doesn't yell now; his voice is a low, sleepy murmur. “you're so damn small compared to me,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “how the hell do you fit all that greed into one person?”
“i'm not greedy,” you murmur, leaning back into his chest.
“you're the greediest person i've ever met. and the worst part is, i can't stop giving you everything. you've got me wrapped around your finger, and you know it.”
he wraps you in a towel that's far too big for you, effectively swallowing you in plush fabric, and carries you back to bed, tucking you in as if you were something fragile that might break if he didn't hold you just right.
Like he claims he’s not sentimental yet he hates it if you give him the silent treatment so he just spoons you from behind, him this time being gentle with words as opposed to his usual prickliness or mayhaps him doing little acts that let you know that he cares
-💠
Omgggg THIS WOULD SO BE HIMMMM 😭😭😭 also also he’d definitely be the type to say it annoys him when you are too affectionate, but the moment you stop giving him the same amount of affection he’d look at you sideways.
“But you told me to not do it so often,“ you’d try to defend yourself when he finally, finally brings it up.
“Never listen to the dumb shit I say,” he’d roll his eyes as if it wasn’t obvious it didn’t mean it.
katsuki letting you try on his gauntlets while he does his routine gear check and you're confused cuz he would never let someone other than himself put them on.
you're ecstatic tho so he gives you his gloves and then puts his gauntlets on you and you giggle about how their so heavy and how impressive it is that he wears them everyday, making them look weightless.
as you shower his strength in compliments he stares at you sitting on the edge of the bed, watching how you can hardly lift your hands wearing them and he drops to his knees, pulling you forward and shoving his head between your thighs, wasting no time he leaves a long lick over your clothed cunt.
you try to shoot your hands out to pull him away with a surprised gasp but realize you can't do much of anything with the gauntlets on, they fall weakly at your side while he gets to work quickly, pulling down your shorts and panties in one go and quickly latching onto your clit.
you go to pull your hands out of the gauntlets but he stops you by gripping your arms and pulling you closer and then your just kinda stuck there just moaning and whining while he has his way with you and he's laughing at you and idk katsuki come get me pls...
synopsis: bakugou is assigned to visit an elementary school every friday as part of a new hero outreach program. though this friday's hero field day left a lot more surprises than he had anticipated.
cw: fluff, slow burn romance, prohero!bakugou and teacher!reader, light teasing/banter, bakugou being bakugou, canon-typical hero themes, angst kinda?eventual romance,
a/n: this is a series! part one is here!. also might keep the title, i think it grew on me. or if anyone has suggestions for a better title? or any suggestions for the series at all? my asks are open!
Bakugou has started to look forward to his Fridays, but it’s not like he’d ever actually admit that.
It was just the schedule. The hero outreach program was every Friday, and he had committed to it. The kids enjoyed it, and it was good practice for future heroes. That was all.
Except lately, Thursday nights had started feeling longer than usual.
The program was always the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep and the first thing he thought about when his alarm dragged him awake the next Friday morning. His eyes cracked open, rays of sunlight already leaking through the gap in his curtains. They turned his ash blonde tufts of hair into little rays of sunlight, messily splayed across his forehead.
Bakugou wondered what was on the agenda for today’s Hero Course Program before the answer came to him a second later, his paper schedule flashing through his mind.
Today is Hero Field Day. Bakugou scoffs at the thought in his mind. Some type of kiddie bullshit so all the students can have fun and exchange information about what they’ve learned through the hero course program. Whatever, that part doesn't concern him much.
He pulls his arms behind his head to rest on them, now pondering in the morning glow. He wondered if you'd be wearing that stupid cardigan again.
Bakugou blinks away his tiredness in frustration, the edges of his eyelids still sore with every pass. Why does he know what type of cardigan you wear? He sprawls his muscular limbs across his bed, his soft cotton sheets spread to cover his crotch and upper thigh. He stared up at the ceiling, annoyed with himself before he’d even gotten out of bed.
It was just a cardigan. A piece of clothing. A completely normal thing to notice about someone he saw every week. Of course he would grow fond of someone he’s regularly interacting with.
Except he didn’t remember what any of his coworkers wore when they were out of costume. Or what color their mugs were. Or how their perfume smelled. Or what they looked like when they tucked their hair behind their ear, or when their lips curl up slightly before they start to giggle, hand rushing to cover their mouth as they smiled wider.
His jaw tightened.
Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, and somehow he’d managed to develop a problem. Every damn day he told himself to knock it off. She was a teacher. He was there to do his job. End of story.
But every time he walked into that classroom, his eyes found her before anyone else. Every time she laughed at something stupid, it stuck with him longer than it should’ve. These past few weeks, he’s shut down villains bigger than buildings. Negotiated media interviews and rescue operations under pressure.
Yet somehow he couldn’t stop thinking about one damn teacher. He slowly dragged a jagged hand down his tired face, sighing before forcing himself to get up for the day.
Hero Field Day. The idea was actually a little exciting. With the weather finally warming up over the past few weeks, the school board had decided to host the event outdoors as a celebration of the Pro Heroes who volunteered their time to inspire the future heroes of Sakura Elementary.
The setup looked very cute from what you saw when you walked in this morning, it should be pretty fun for the kids.
You turned toward them at the doorframe of your classroom, reminding them what a single-file line was supposed to look like. The excited kids shuffled into something that resembled a line. Crooked, with a few students grouped together at the back.
“Okay,” you started, raising your voice just enough to gather their attention. “Who remembers the rules for our Hero Field Day today?”
You lifted your hand as an example, and almost immediately, tiny hands shot into the air. You smiled, scanning the eager faces before calling on one of your students.
“No fighting, no crying, and stay with a friend!”
“Exactly.”
You waited until the chatter died down before motioning for them to follow you into the hallway, Walking backward toward the exit —this was a skill you’ve learned over the years. Your eyes continuously swept over the line of students, making sure everyone stayed together.
You didn’t notice Bakugou leaning against the exit door, watching as you guided your students toward him. No cardigan today. His eyes dropped for half a second. New jeans, though. They looked good.
The hero immediately frowned, pushing the thought away before it could settle. Before he could catch one more glance to see the brand name of your new pants, you turned around, nearly walking straight into him before your feet come to a quick stop.
Your smile was bright enough to catch him off gaurd. “You came back!”
Bakugou shoved his hands into the pockets of his hero costume, deliberately looking past your gaze. “I work here.”
One brow arched. “You work at an elementary school now?”
A quiet scoff left him. You continued to walk out of the door into the field with your class, Bakugou staying close beside you. “Once a week. Don’t be a smartass.”
His words lacked any real bite, and the corner of your mouth lifted a little further because you knew it. This time, he actually looked at you. His gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary, taking in the warmth in your expression, the way you seemed genuinely happy to see him. It was nice.
When you finally stepped onto the sprawling school field, you couldn’t help but pause. It was even better than you’d imagined. Colorful booths stretched across the grass, each one decorated to match the hero running it. Balloons bobbed in the breeze, music drifted through the air, and the excited chatter of hundreds of students filled every corner of the field.
You tried to recall the details from the Field Day Protocol email the school had sent out the week before, though by now it had long since been buried beneath a mountain of unread messages.
Every hero participating in the Heroes Public Safety Commission’s program at Sakura Elementary was there, each standing alongside the class they’d been assigned to throughout the year. The field had been divided into different stations, each one designed around the hero running it, showcasing their quirks, their strengths, and the skills they used as heroes.
You had to admit, it was actually a pretty thoughtful idea.
You spotted Lemillion in the distance, standing proudly beside his station. The Number One Hero. It was still a little surreal seeing someone like him here, spending his Friday afternoon at an elementary school field day. But more than anything, it made you appreciate the heroes involved even more. The fact that the Number One and Number Two heroes were willing to step away from their busy schedules to encourage the next generation of heroes said a lot about them.
Lemillion’s station was titled Save the Civilians. A giant inflatable building structure sat in the middle of the field, with stuffed animals scattered throughout the “damaged” building, waiting to be rescued. You could already guess the objective: students would have to crawl through tunnels, squeeze through obstacles, and “phase” through hanging curtains to reach the civilians trapped inside.
Judging by the excited screams coming from the station, it was already a hit. Lemillion beamed down at each of the kids with his signature smile. He was actually a lot more handsome in person, you thought.
Your attention drifted back to Dynamight’s field day station, finally taking in the setup you’d been too distracted to notice before.
A large sign overhead read BLAST ZONE. The course was packed with obstacles. Cardboard villains lurked around corners, while others were rigged to spring up without warning as the kids made their way through. Their mission was simple: toss “grenades”—bean bags—at every villain they encountered before reaching the end, where a towering villain dummy waited as the final boss. One direct hit would trigger a dramatic explosion of colorful confetti.
A slight giggle escaped you. It was ridiculously over-the-top, but still very fitting for the Pro Hero.
You were crouched beside one of the students, helping them adjust the strap on their helmet before they ran through the obstacle course. The kid was rambling excitedly about how they were going to beat the “villains” faster than anyone else, and you listened with a smile, encouraging them before sending them back toward their classmates.
Bakugou watched the interaction from across the field. He wasn’t even sure when he’d started doing it.
Maybe it was the way you never rushed the kids, even when there were a dozen other things demanding your attention. Or how easily you matched their excitement without ever talking down to them. Maybe it was how good you looked in these jeans he’s never seen before, or the way your messy hair always fell perfectly around your face and ears. He found himself noticing you. And unfortunately for him, someone else noticed too.
“Woww Katsuki, shameless.” Bakugou’s shoulder stiffened, the simple comment was enough. He turned slowly, already knowing exactly who he’d find standing beside him. Mina Ashido wore the kind of grin that meant trouble.
Bakugou let out a rough sigh. Of course she had to be here. She didn’t even know Mina was in the Hero Classroom Program, or that she was even assigned to this school at all.
“What?” he asked, though the warning in his voice was immediate.
She glanced between him and you, far too amused. “Nothing,” she said, drawing out the word. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Mind your business, Mina.” He grumbled, hands still in pockets. He didn’t even have to look over at her anymore to see the huge grin plastered across her face. He scanned the field for her Field Day Station before landing on it across the field. An Acid Agility game with bright colors, obstacles, and music playing. It even had a dance floor at the center.
It didn’t take you too long to notice that Bakugou was chatting with the Number 10 Hero, Pinky. Your cheeks went flushed. He knows Pinky? Your mind flashes to the moments you were obsessed with her in college, even had one of her posters up in your dorm. You practically wanted to be her. Plus, her Pinky’s™ Pink Acid Power-Hold Hairspray is totally iconic. And you had the commercial memorized.
Mina was exactly as she appeared on the media and publicly; bright, energetic, and impossible to miss. Her signature pink hair bounced as she practically beamed over, a huge smile spreading across her face as she talked excitedly to Bakugou.
You watched the interaction with a small smile, surprised by the familiarity between them. It was strange seeing heroes talk so casually. Mina’s eyes bounced with eagerness as her gaze met yours. “And when were you going to introduce me to your cute teacher friend?” She teases. “Katsuki, you’re so rude.” Hearing Mina use his first name made you deduce that they had probably met a while ago, during hero training.
You smiled a little awkwardly, clearly caught off guard. Mina had that effect on people. Plus, you’d been obsessed with the Pinky’s™ haircare line for years. “O-oh thank you. I’m Ms. L/N” you stuttered, holding out your hands for her to shank “I’m a big fan.” Is all that you could muster. Your palms were definitely sweating.
Bakugou watched the way you immediately got flustered, your attention completely stolen by Mina’s presence. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance.
Seriously? This was the same person who’d looked him dead in the eye and talked back without hesitation. He couldn’t even get five words into a conversation with you before you were already firing back with some quick comeback. But Mina shows up with dumb pink hair and a smile, and suddenly you’re tripping over your words? Unbelievable.
He looked away, annoyed by the strange feeling settling in his chest. Pinky had you nervous. Not him.
Mina laughed nervously at your admiration, one hand met with yours in a handshake, “I’m not all that, promise me.” She turns toward the number 2 hero, who still had an annoyed look plastered on his face, two hands in his pockets.
“Who you SHOULD be gawking over is Mr. Dynamight here. It’s not easy to be Number 2.“ she slaps him on the shoulder playfully, he glares at her, his eyes like bright crimson lasers in response, “Plus Kacchan’s totally a softie underneath all of that yelling.”
Bakugou knew exactly what she was doing. Somehow, Mina had developed an infuriating sixth sense for sniffing out the moment any of her friends caught feelings for someone. She’d been weaponizing it against Katsuki specifically ever since he’d admitted to his first crush after high school, making it her personal mission to drag him into the dating world whether he liked it or not. He suppressed a groan.
Because the second he let himself think too hard about you, his mind went straight to everything that could go wrong. You were a teacher. Normal. Grounded. Completely outside the mess of hero society.
And he was Dynamight. A hero with enemies, cameras, reporters, and a life that never really belonged to him. Wanting you felt selfish. Acting on it felt reckless. He suppressed another groan.
“Don’t even start,” he muttered.
Mina’s grin only widened. “I didn’t say anything.”
She didn’t have to. Because he knew where this was going. Next time they see each other she’d give him the same speech she always did. That he worked too much. That he was too hard on himself. That maybe he deserved to have something outside of hero work.Mina didn’t understand. Or maybe she did, and that was the problem.
You stood confused between the two, did you miss something?
He opened his mouth to shut her up before she could get any smug ideas, but a student came rushing up at the worst possible moment, tugging at your sleeve and asking for help with something small and urgent. Whatever it was, it pulled you away again before Bakugou could even get a word in.
He watched you go, jaw tightening. Of course the universe would keep doing this to him, giving him just enough of you to make him want more, then yanking you out of reach before he could do anything about it.
Mina followed his stare, then looked back at him with a knowing expression that made him want to explode. “Seriously?” she said once you were out of earshot. “You’re gonna stand there and brood every time she walks away?”
“I’m not brooding.” He sniffs, eyes still planted on you.
Mina sighed, clearly done with his stubbornness. “You need to put yourself out there. Stop acting like wanting something normal is a crime.”
He scoffed, but there was less bite in it than usual. “Normal isn’t really my thing.”
“No kidding,” she shot back. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.” Bakugou didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
Mina knew him well enough to recognize when she’d hit too close to the truth. She just watched him stand there, stubbornly refusing to admit she had a point.
A few moments later, you came back over, your attention shifting between him and the obstacle course behind you. There was a slight crease between your brows, like you were debating whether or not to interrupt.
He noticed immediately, “What’s up?” he asked before you could even get the words out.
You blinked, surprised that he had noticed something wrong so quickly. “Sorry, but…” Your gaze flickered back toward the kids gathered around Dynamight's Blast Zone course. A few of them were struggling with one of the obstacles, looking unsure of what to do next. “I think they need your help. They’re having a bit of trouble. I tried to help but I don’t really know what I’m doing” You chuckled. Your voice was soft and semi-defeated.
For a second, Bakugou just looked at you. It was almost irritating how easily Mina’s words had gotten under his skin. Like she’d reached past every excuse he’d built and dragged something out into the open that he’d been trying not to acknowledge.
Which was that he wanted to get to know everything about you. What you ate for breakfast when you were too tired to cook. What songs you listened to on your way home. Whether you were the type of person who stayed up too late despite knowing better or if you actually went to bed at a reasonable hour. If you had a pet waiting for you when you got home. If you talked to yourself when you were alone. What color were your pajamas?
He wanted to know all of it. More than anything, he wanted to know what was going through your mind when you looked at him like that. That earnest, eager expression on your face should’ve been easy to dismiss, but somehow it had carved itself into his memory ever since the day you two met.
And even though helping the students was literally the reason he was there, a small part of him was grateful for the excuse to step away before Mina could say anything else.
“Yeah,” he put his thoughts beside himself, already walking over. “I’ll handle it.”
Mina followed your gaze toward the obstacle course, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Well,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’m gonna go check on my group before they decide the bean bags are actually weapons.”
You laughed softly. “Probably a good idea.” Probably for the best, too, since you’d likely end up just fangirling and unintentionally freaking out the pro hero.
Mina shot Bakugou one last look before walking away. A look he definitely noticed.
“Don’t,” he called after her.
She didn’t even turn to meet his gaze. “Didn’t say anything!”
You watched as Bakugou crouched down beside the students who had gathered around the obstacle course, all of them staring at the setup like it had personally offended them.
“Alright,” he said, eyes flicking over the course. “Who’s freezin’ up?”
A few hands went up immediately.
“I keep hesitating!” One of the students explains.
“I know where to throw, but I miss every time!” Another one joins.
More students angrily complain about their qualms with the field day event.
Bakugou stared at them for a second. Then he huffed, just like he’d already figured out the problem. He positions himself to stand back up, his muscular arms that you definitely don’t stare at every week bracing themselves on his thigh before he gets up in one swift motion.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “You’re all thinkin' too much.”
The kids blinked at him.
He picked up one of the bean bags and rolled it once in his palm. “Y'don’t need to make it perfect. You need to commit.”
He stood and demonstrated the throw, not with a huge burst of power, but with a clean, controlled motion that sent the bean bag straight through the opening. The cardboard villain quickly thuds to the grown with a loud electronic “OH NO!”
The kids gasp in excitement, ready to try their hand at his new advice.
“See that?” he said, pointing at the target. “Pick your line. Trust it. Then move.”
One of the students tried again, this time without stopping halfway through their throw. The bean bag landed exactly where it was supposed to. The kid’s face lit up. “I did it!”
Bakugou’s mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”
More students began grabbing bean bags and racing through the obstacle course, their cheers and laughter filling the field as they knocked down the cardboard villains in their path. Dozens of electronic “OH NO!”s rang out from the defeated targets.
You watched from the side, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. The program had been everything you could have hoped for your students, but there were only two weeks left before it came to an end. The Heroes Public Safety Commission had chosen the timing intentionally, giving the children time to adjust to the excitement of seeing heroes every week before the sudden change of summer break.
Still, knowing it wouldn’t last much longer left a dull ache in your chest. This school year had already been one of your best, but this program had changed something. It had given you more opportunities to connect with your students, to see them open up and believe in themselves.
You watched the students play, a hint of melancholy softening your expression. From the field, Bakugou caught sight of you standing off to the side, watching your students with a look he couldn’t quite place.
Kids ran around him, laughing and shouting as they threw bean bags and took down cardboard villains, but his attention kept drifting back to you. He wondered what was going through your head.
“Hey there!”
You turned at the sudden voice, finding a bright smile and a familiar face standing in front of you.
“I don’t think we’ve properly met yet. I’m Mirio Togata. Lemillion.” He offered his hand, the brigthness of his smile somehow rivaled the sunshine outside. “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself.”
You blinked, a little surprised before shaking his hand. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you. I'm Y/N L/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope,” he teased, his eyes crinkling with amusement. He looked exactly how you expected him to up close, handsome and bright. “Though I have to admit, I was curious about the teacher brave enough to let Dynamight loose around a bunch of kids.”
You glanced toward the field, laughing softly. “He’s actually been really good with them.”
Mirio looked over as well, amused. “Yeah… that’s probably something not many people get to see.” His eyes returned to you, a playful glint in them. “Guess I’m lucky I got to meet both of you today.”
For a second, when his eyes met yours, you swore your heart stopped.
Was Lemillion… flirting with you?
Lemillion? The number one hero?
Your thoughts immediately went somewhere ridiculous. Was it the new pants you bought? Was that the secret? Had you accidentally unlocked some kind of confidence boost without realizing it?
Or was he really just being friendly and finally taking the chance to introduce himself? Whatever the reason was, you were definitely enjoying all of the Pro Hero attention you were getting today.
The field day ended earlier than Bakugou realized. The loud screams of kids had dissipated as they all made their way back to be picked up or after school programs.
After the principal’s announcement, teachers and heroes began working together to clean up the field, gathering equipment and returning the obstacle course pieces back to storage.
Bakugou should’ve been focused on the task in front of him. He wasn’t.
His eyes kept drifting back to you.
More specifically, to the way you and Lemillion were standing together near the edge of the field, packing up some last pieces of equipment and smiling at each other like you were sharing some private joke.
Bakugou frowned, taking a deep breath to keep his irritation from consuming him. The hell was so funny?
By the time everyone started heading back inside, he found himself walking near you before he’d even decided to. “What’s with that face?” he asked.
You looked over, confused. “What face?”
“The one you’ve had all afternoon.” His eyes flicked briefly toward where Lemillion had been standing. “You and Togata. What’s going on? Some type of inside joke?” His tone was almost interrogation like.
You paused, realizing he’d been paying attention more than you expected. You hadn’t even noticed him watching you and Togata that closely. Why did he care so much?
“Oh.” The memory came back to you, and you felt a little heat creep into your face. You had been smiling pretty much the entire conversation.
Bakugou immediately didn’t like that reaction. “Oh?”
You looked away, a small smile tugging at your lips. “He asked me on a date,” you said softly.
And Bakugou froze. Your eyes glimmered with something he couldn’t quite name; something warm, something excited. He’d never seen you look like that before. Not at him.
For a moment, Bakugou said nothing.
“…A date?” He sounded almost perplexed.
Of course someone like Lemillion would make a move without even thinking twice. He was friendly, confident, easy to talk to. The kind of person people naturally gravitated toward.
“Yes, Dynamight,” you teased. “Despite what you may think, men actually do ask me out sometimes.”
Bakugou scoffed internally. You bent down to grab a basket of bean bags, tilting your head slightly toward the pile of cardboard villains sitting at his feet. Without a word, he followed behind you, picking them up as instructed. That was when he was finally able to catch the brand of the new pants you were wearing. Not that it mattered now.
“Tch. But you guys work together,” he called out, trying to ignore the irritation creeping into his tone.
“Not really,” you replied. “Plus, you guys are leaving soon anyway.” You glanced back at him with a small smile, gesturing vaguely in his direction. “Might as well take what I can get, right?”
The hero frowned, a low grunt leaving his throat in defiance. He didn’t like the way that sounded. Not one bit.
Bakugou felt utterly defeated. He couldn’t tell what bothered him more: The fact that Lemillion had asked you out… or the fact that he hadn’t even thought to do it himself until now. He felt like a damn coward.
“So where’r you guys goin’?” he asked after placing the gathered equipment on the nearest bench inside of the storage shed. The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Was he jealous?
“Oh my goodness, am I being interviewed?” you joked, throwing your hands up dramatically. “I don’t know yet,” you admitted with a laugh. “He said he’ll text me tonight and let me know where we’re going.”
Great. The date was tonight.
Makes sense. Bakugou knew Fridays were usually Mirio’s days off. With UA students and provisional license heroes taking over patrol rotations for work studies, it gave active pros a little more flexibility during the weekends.
He fought the urge to roll his eyes when he looked back at you. You looked way too excited. Like some teenager gushing over a celebrity. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like other heroes having your attention. He was the one who came here. Dynamight. The hero who was supposed to make this program fun for you and your students. The one who’d spent weeks watching you smile, watching you care about those kids.
So why the hell were you going out with fucking Lemillion? Sure, the guy was popular. Sure, everyone loved him. But Bakugou knew he had more than enough to back himself up. More power. More bite. More confidence.
He wasn’t letting Lemillion win that easily. Not again.
“Enjoy your date,” he grumbled, the words coming out sharper than he intended.
Before you could respond, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there in the storage shed alone. You stared after him for a moment, caught off guard by the strange edge in his voice.
You didn’t let it bother you too much, knowing you had a date to rush home and get ready for.
The night patrol should’ve ended hours ago. Bakugou knew that.
His assistant definitely knew that.
“Bakugou,” her voice crackled through his earpiece, already sounding exhausted. “Your patrol time was up two hours ago. You can go home now.”
“I’m busy.”
“You’re literally still patrolling.”
“Yeah. You noticed.”
“That’s not—”
He ended the call before she could finish.
The city was quieter than usual, but Bakugou kept moving. Kept looking. Kept finding reasons to stay out longer. He told himself it was because he wanted to clear his head. That was a lie.
His attention drifted toward the brightly lit windows of a high-end sushi restaurant tucked between the buildings below. Mirio’s favorite place. The kind of place he’d take someone for a special occasion.
Bakugou had already passed by it twice tonight. This was the third time.
He hated himself a little more every time. His eyes scanned the tables through the clear windows, searching for any sign of you. A glimpse of your messy hair. That smile he’d been missing all day.
He didn’t even know what he was hoping for. Maybe that the date wasn’t going well, or maybe you’d look up and somehow notice him. Maybe he just wanted proof that he still had time.
Before he had the chance to turn around, a sleek black car pulled up along the curb, immediately catching Bakugou’s attention. His eyes narrowed.
The driver stepped out and walked around to the back, opening the door for the passenger. Then Mirio stepped out. Of course.
A moment later, Mirio walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door for you, offering his hand with that same damn smile he always wore. And then Bakugou saw you.
You stepped out wearing a black gown that was perfectly suited for the setting of the restaurant. The dress was elegant, the dark fabric sitting against your skin as it hugged your figure in a way he’d never seen before. The neckline framed you beautifully, the fabric fitting close around your waist and the draped effortlessly with every step you took.
Nothing like the teacher he’d gotten used to seeing every week in the classroom. You looked good. Really good.
Then Mirio took your hand. You smiled, stepping towards him. You looked so happy, excited.
And Bakugou felt it. The familiar sting of heat gathering in his palms. A sharp crackle of sweat and nitroglycerin building beneath his skin before he even realized he’d activated his quirk. His palm sparked.
“Tch—” Too late.
The explosion tore through the quiet night, sending him flying straight into the side of a nearby building.
“Damn it—” he muttered, pulling himself out of the damage.
Across the street, you and Mirio turned at the sudden noise. Bakugou froze, smoke curling around him as he stared from the shadows. For one second, he was sure you’d seen him.
But after a quick glance around, you simply looked confused before Mirio gently guided you toward the entrance. Neither of you noticed him. Bakugou watched as the doors closed behind you.
“Idiot,” was all he could mutter to himself before launching into the night sky and heading home.
synopsis: bakugou is assigned to visit an elementary school every friday as part of a new hero outreach program. he hates kids… or at least he thinks he does.
cw: fluff, slow burn romance, prohero!bakugou and teacher!reader, light teasing/banter, bakugou being bakugou, canon-typical hero themes, eventual romance
a/n: this is a series! and also my very first fic i hope you guys like it :) 🩷 title is uh…work in progress. pt2 is now posted!
“Dynamight, you’re going to be late!” The anxious woman hurried after him, clutching a clipboard against her chest along with a precarious stack of folders ready to spill from her arms.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Katsuki scoffs at his assistant, barely sparing her a glance as he slowly maneuvers his gauntlets on his fingers, twisting his hand in a careful motion as to not scratch the callous skin of his fingers as they click into place.
“I-I’m sorry, it’s just..” his assistant shuffled, struggling to keep pace. A few months in and she still hadn’t adjusted to her new job working for the Number 2 Pro Hero. A part of her had hoped the abrasive personality she saw on TV and in interviews was just exaggerated for cameras.
It wasn’t.
“You know those kids are really excited to meet you today.”
That earns another scoff from the hero, but this time slightly amused.
“Bet your ass they are.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest, smug grin plastered across his face. “Kids love me.”
His assistant winced. His confidence was..impressive. I guess this is the type of ego it takes to become number two hero, she thought.
With a quiet sigh, she adjusted the folders in her arms and continued trailing after him, praying that Dynamight made it to school before the principal called her angrily.
“Right, before I forget,” she hurriedly flips through her collection of documents before landing on today’s schedule, “Today you’re visiting Sakura Elementary. Third grade.”
“Hm.”
“Room 35. Y/N L/N’s class.” She glanced up at him, “The principal has your visitor pass ready.”
Another noncommittal grunt.
She hesitates before adding, “And I know you don’t look at your emails so please don’t forget.”
Katsuki shot her a flat look. Probably the first look he’s actually given her today. “I look at my emails.”
She clears her throat, “Mr. Dynamight, you have two hundred and seventy eight unread messages.”
“They’re unread for a reason.”
“Just..please don’t be late.” She pinches the skin in between her eyebrows, her posture now slumped over the stack of god knows what she has in her hands. “Okay? Thanks.” His assistant surrenders before turning her back and making her exit. Bakugou furrows his brows at the slight annoyance in her tone as she shuffles out of his office.
Brat. Whatever. Guess it’s time to go see more brats.
“And what is something if it’s neither a liquid nor a solid?”
You looked out at your class of eight-year-olds, who were completely out of control today.
Usually during your lessons they sat in a neat half-circle, criss cross applesauce, their tiny faces turned toward you as they eagerly shouted answers to your questions in unison. Today, however, was the complete opposite thanks to the Hero Commission.
The idea was simple: The Hero Classroom Program had been introduced a few years ago as part of the Hero Public Safety Commission’s push to strengthen relationships between heroes and civilians. Instead of only appearing during emergencies, pro heroes were assigned to local schools to teach students about hero work, quirk safety, emergency preparedness, and what it truly meant to protect others.
It was supposed to help children understand that heroes were more than just flashy costumes and powerful quirks.
Though, based on your students’ behavior today, you were pretty sure they’d forgotten that last part.
“Miss L/N, I’m so boooooored.” You turned toward a student who had his head tipped dramatically toward the ceiling as if he were suffering through the most difficult moment of his life.
“Yeah, didn’t you say the hero was coming?” Another tiny voice added.
At the mention of his name, the rest of the class immediately perked up.
“Yeah!”
“When is he coming?”
“Is he here yet?”
You let out a deep sigh, trying very hard not to roll your eyes in front of twenty eight-year-olds.
In theory, it was a wonderful program.
In practice, it meant that every Friday afternoon, your classroom became the most anticipated room in the entire school. Because your assigned hero was Dynamight. The same pro hero whose name appeared across every news channel, whose explosive quirk had earned him a reputation as one of the strongest heroes of his generation.
And, unfortunately for you, the same pro hero who had a reputation for being… difficult.
You weren’t worried about his abilities. No one could deny that Dynamight was an incredible hero. But being a hero and being a teacher were two very different things.
Kids needed patience. They need someone who can explain things without making them feel stupid. They need someone who understands that a nervous question wasn’t a waste of time and that sometimes the same explanation had to be given five different ways before it clicked.
You just hoped Dynamight understood that too.
You waited patiently, letting the murmuring die down before speaking again. “I know everyone’s excited.”
“YEAAHHHH!” The entire class shouted in unison.
“But if Dynamight walks in and sees a room full of students who can’t follow directions…”
The classroom slowly fell silent.
You let the quiet linger, scanning each tiny, chubby face on the carpet before continuing. “…he’ll think you’re all still in kindergarten.”
The room immediately erupted in outrage. Students crossing their arms and making pouty faces at the thought of being mistaken for a mere five year old.
“We’re THIRD graders!” A students voice rang louder than the rest.
“Exactly. Besides, guys…” You crossed your arms firmly. “He’s only here for an hour.”
A wave of dramatic groans filled the classroom.
You smiled to yourself. You loved the playful banter you had with your students, the way they argued with you like they were your own age.
“Unless Dynamight can teach you guys about the three states of matter, we’re finishing this lesson before he gets here.”
More groans.
But then—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
And the room goes completely silent.
The second the knock echoed through the room, twenty heads snapped toward the door.
Yours was one of them.
Twenty-one.
You blink, looking toward the entrance. Of course, right when you finally got them focused.
The door slid open. Pro Hero Dynamight filled the doorway, broad-shouldered and unmistakable in his hero costume. You wouldn’t say he looked better than he did on TV. Just… real.
Close enough to notice the faint color variation in the scar across his face. The faded scuffs and scratches worn into his gear, and the small marks scattered across his arms. Very muscular arms. You were definitely not staring.
Before you could even process what had happened, twenty tiny bodies launched themselves off, racing toward the broad man at the doorway with the type of excitement kids usually reserve for Disneyworld and birthday parties.
You barely had time to react before a small crowd surrounded him.
“He’s here!”
“Can you make an explosion right now?”
“He’s so much taller in person!”
“Dynamight, look at my quirk!”
You opened your mouth to scold the children, ready to apologize on their behalf for overwhelming a pro hero who had barely stepped foot into the classroom. But your words died as soon as your eyes fix over on the pro hero.
You expected irritation. Maybe yelling? Maybe a very public reminder that he was, in fact, a professional hero and not a classroom attraction.
Instead, he simply stood there, calm despite the swarm of tiny bodies surrounding him. He held his arms out slightly, more focused on protecting his hair and keeping his equipment out of reach than pushing any child away.
“Tch. You guys are loud.” He grunted. There was a slight smirk creeping at his lips.
But then he crouches down slightly to meet the kids at their level, lowering one of the heavy gauntlets carefully. He disconnects the gauntlet, a crisp click disengaging it from his forearm. He sets the machinery down in the circle of children, giving them a closer look. Their tiny heads peering down in awe.
“Don’t touch the trigger mechanism.” His voice is firm as he points at the tiny notch in his gauntlet, “It’s not a toy.”
The kids immediately fell silent around him, listening.
“This equipment’s built specifically for my quirk. It’s heavy, it’s dangerous, and there’s a reason only trained professionals use it.” His voice was rough, a low deep grumble escaping his throat with every few words he spoke. A few students nodded seriously, others stared in awe at the Pro Hero in front of them.
“But you can look.” The Pro Heroes voice rumbled as a smirk spread across his face.The classroom exploded again.
Your eyebrows lifted. Interesting. “Ok, ok everyone back to your spots,” you called out in the midst of the chaos, clapping your hands, “Dynamight just got here and I don’t think you guys have given him a polite welcome.”
The students slowly began returning to the carpet, though not without sneaking a few last glances at his gauntlets.
Bakugo watched them settle down, then looked back at you.
The room had been complete chaos thirty seconds ago. Now every student was sitting exactly where they were supposed to be.They just.. listened.
You caught his stare. “Something wrong?”
“No.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the students before returning to you. “You’re good at that.”
You blinked. “At what?”
“Getting them to shut up.”
A giggle escaped you before you could stop it “That’s one way to compliment my teaching.”
He shrugged, leaning against the wall behind him. “Wasn’t a compliment.”
“Of course not.”
The smallest hint of amusement crossed his face.
You walked toward the front of the room and extended your hand. “I’m Y/N L/N. Third grade teacher and apparently the person responsible for making sure these guys don’t destroy your equipment.”
You were used to seeing him on television, frozen in action shots or surrounded by explosions, but in person, he was much more imposing. He was taller than you expected, broad shoulders stretching against the fabric of his hero costume. You tried not to let his arms distract you this time, they were thick with muscle, the kind that came from years of training rather than simply having a powerful quirk.
Bakugo looked down at your hand for a second before taking it. “Katsuki Bakugo.” His voice was rough and gravelly.
“I know.” A pause. Then you smiled.
Most people reacted to him in one of two ways; either they were intimidated or completely starstruck.
You were neither. Bakugo found that interesting.
“Alright, everyone,” you announced, turning back to the class. “Let’s properly welcome Dynamight before he thinks our classroom is always this chaotic.”
A student immediately raised their hand. “Miss Y/N, it is always this chaotic.”
You sighed. “Thank you for proving my point.”
Bakugo let out a quiet scoff.
And for some reason, he got the feeling he was enjoying this more than he expected.
Pro Hero Dynamight planted himself at the front of the classroom like he owned it. Feet shoulder-width apart, distracting arms crossed over his broad chest, he didn’t say a word at first. He didn’t have to. The room had already gone quiet.
You leaned against your desk with a palm on your cheek, watching with mild curiosity.
“Alright,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the class. “Since you all practically begged to have me here, try using those ears instead of just shoutin’.”
Every student immediately sat up straighter. Well. That was one way to establish authority.
“The first thing you need to know about being a hero,” Bakugo continued, “is that having a strong quirk doesn’t automatically make you a good hero. Any idiot can blow something up.” He paused. “…Trust me, I’ve met plenty.”
A few kids giggled.
One hand shot into the air. Bakugo sighed before pointing at him. “What?”
The boy nearly bounced out of his seat. “Are you stronger than All Might?”
The room buzzed instantly. A dozen heads turned toward Bakugo, waiting. You had to bite the inside of your cheek.
Oh, this should be good.
Bakugo stared at the kid for a long, silent second. “…That’s your takeaway?”
“But are you?” Several students nodded eagerly.
“Who’s stronger?”
“Could you beat him?”
Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose. “You brats really only care about who’s got the bigger punch.”
“…Yeah,” the class answered in perfect unison. You had to cover your mouth before your giggle escaped.
Bakugo let out an exasperated sigh, dropping his arms. “Listen up. Being a hero isn’t about being the strongest person in the room.”
The class settled almost instantly.
“It’s about knowing when to use your strength.” His voice lost its usual bite, turning unexpectedly serious, “You can have the strongest quirk on the planet, but if you panic, ignore instructions, or get innocent people hurt, you’re dead weight.”
The students listened without a single interruption.
“Real heroes stay calm. They think before they act. They protect people first. Power comes with responsibility. Forget that, and it doesn’t matter how strong you are.”
You glanced around, surprised. Your students could barely sit through afternoon reading time, yet somehow they’d hung on every word.
“So. First thing you do in an emergency?”
Hands shot into the air.
“Stay calm!”
“Listen to instructions!”
“Help people!”
A small girl near the back yelled, “Don’t ask if you’re stronger than All Might!”
The room erupted into laughter.
A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of Bakugo’s mouth before it disappeared just as quickly. “…Correct.”
The kids beamed like they’d won a prize. You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. He was blunt. Loud. Rough around the edges. But he knew exactly how to work with children.
You lowered your gaze back to the paperwork on your desk, pretending you weren’t paying him just a little more attention than when he’d walked in.
The classroom slowly emptied, the last few students calling out their goodbyes as they disappeared into the hallway.
“Bye, Dynamight!”
“Come back next Friday!”
“Remember my question about your explosions!”
Bakugo stood near the door, looking mildly overwhelmed by the amount of attention being thrown his way. “Yeah, yeah. I heard you.” He said under his breath, staring down at each child’s bashful and excited expressions as they skipped out of the classroom.
Once the door finally closed behind the last student, the room fell into a peaceful silence. You turned around, starting to collect the scattered things from your students’ desks.
“Well.”
Bakugo glanced over. “Well?”
“You survived.”
“Obviously.” He said in a tone akin to one of your students.
You smiled at yourself, shuffling a few papers between your hands. “I wasn’t sure. They were pretty determined to take apart your hero costume.”
“They were curious.” Bakugo found himself watching you as you moved around the classroom, quietly gathering the aftermath of their excitement. You went from desk to desk, collecting forgotten papers, stray pieces of trash, and the random miscellaneous items the kids had somehow managed to leave behind.
You were just there, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy from managing a classroom full of kids, talking to him like he was just another person.
You glanced up and caught him staring. “Seriously, thank you. This means a lot to them. I’m sure they’ll all be very excited to see you again next week.”
A brief flash of sincerity crossed Bakugou's face before he turned away, giving nothing but his usual deep grunt in response.
“Don’t sound too touched.” You joke.
“Trust me I'm not.” The Pro Hero huffs. Kids weren’t exactly his thing. They were loud, messy, and had absolutely no concept of when to stop talking. Being a teacher would probably be his last choice of profession.
“Right.” You started back towards your desk with a neat stack of papers in hand, unable to wipe away the smile that had crept its way on your face. “You know, I was expecting you to scare them.”
"Did I?" There was a slight note of concern in his voice, a rare hesitation that you weren’t expecting.
"No."
The answer came too quickly. Bakugou noticed.
"And what does that mean?"
You look at him, earnest expression, "It means you're really good with them, better than I thought you’d be if I’m being honest."
Another scoff. “They weren’t that bad.”
You glanced up at Bakugo with the smugest smirk he’d probably ever seen. Which was saying something, considering he was pretty sure he’d perfected the look himself.
He immediately realized what he’d admitted. “What?”
You giggled, quickly trying to muffle it under your breath before you could further irritate the Pro Hero. It did not work.
“Nothing,” you said, still fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just glad you liked them.”
He took a pause before answering. You weren’t facing him anymore, but you could feel his crimson eyes staring down your back like a laser. “I tolerated them.” He grunts.
“You answered every question they asked.”
“They asked.”
“You explained your gauntlets.”
“They wanted to know.”
“You drew a diagram.”
A pause. Bakugo looked away from you even though you weren’t even facing him, his voice a little quieter than before. “They were curious.”
Your smile widened. This will be an interesting school year.
The room went quiet for a moment. He looked at you. And annoyingly, he didn’t have a comeback.
“You always this annoying?” he asked finally.
You turned around to face him, finger rested on your chin pretending to consider it. “Only with people who deserve it.”
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before he could stop it. He quickly masked it with another scoff, like that somehow made the reaction less obvious.
“Guess I’m special, then.” The words came out almost casually, but the slight curve of his mouth gave away the teasing behind them. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little bit with the cute teacher, especially when she seemed far too amused by him already.
You blinked. Bakugou smiled, amused at the fact that he was finally able to throw you off.
Bakugou sighed. Somehow, one hour with a classroom full of kids with too much energy had managed to drain him more than a full day of patrol.
By the time Bakugou returned to the agency, he was already halfway to his office when his assistant hurried after him, clipboard tucked against her chest as she followed close behind.
The second he stepped inside, she was right there behind him. “So?”
Bakugo didn’t stop walking. “So what?”
“How was the Hero Classroom Program?”
“Loud.”
The second he answered, she scribbled something down on her clipboard, “Right.”
He dropped his gauntlets onto his desk and sat down, leaning back in his chair. “The kids were annoying.” He sighed, dragging both hands down his tired face.
“Also expected.” She scribbled again.
Usually, after events like this, he complained. About the schedule. About the questions. About how much noise he had to deal with. But this time, he wasn’t.
“…Anything else?”
Bakugo looked over at her. “No.” A pause. Then, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it, “The teacher’s alright.”
His assistant blinked, pen freezing mid-note. “The teacher?” She glanced up at him.
He immediately frowned. “What?”
“Nothing.” The assistant’s head flipped back down to her notes, pushing her thick framed glasses up to the top of her nose bridge. The teacher, huh?
Bakugo clicked his tongue. “She’s good with the kids. That’s it.” She hadn’t even asked him about the teacher. I mean, she’s a teacher, of course she’s good with kids.
Instead of a response she gave a slight smile, shifting her clipboard in her arms as she continued scribbling down god knows what in her notes. “What’s her name again?”
Bakugo paused, just for a second.
“L/N.” He ignores how his assistant should already know your name.
The timid woman looked up, because he actually remembered. And she at least knew him well enough to know that meant something.
Bakugo noticed her expression and immediately looked away. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Tch.”
Later that night, Bakugou sat at his desk, going through the schedule for the following week’s assignment.
He should’ve been focused on the details; the class schedule, the lesson plans, everything he needed to know before stepping back into a room full of loud, unpredictable kids.
Instead, his thoughts kept drifting back. To the way the students had actually listened. To the way you’d watched him, clearly expecting something completely different. And, annoyingly, the way he was pretty sure he caught you oggling at his arms on more than one occasion.
Bakugou smirked slightly to himself, looking back down at the schedule in front of him.
Annoying. He had better things to think about.
And yet, when he reached her name on the schedule, his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary. He stared at it for a moment before quickly moving on.
In which you go to your first local ice hockey game and there are definitely sparks flying between you and player number seventeen.
Warning: sweaty ice hockey boys, mentions of alc.
When your boss is practically begging for someone to take his sponsor seats to an upcoming ice hockey game, how could you miss the opportunity? You and two of your co-workers — friends, really, seeing as you’ve had drinks with them plenty of times — accept the tickets and make plans to carpool to the ice rink.
You get lost on the way to your seats, but this huge redhead dressed in the whole hockey get-up and skates catches the lost look in your eyes and offers directions. One of your friends, the one with her hair in bantu knots, is basically drooling over him, and you can’t really blame her. He’s got the kind of smile that could make a woman forget her own name.
Having found your seats, which are right up the front by the glass, the three of you sit down and flick through the hand-out that the usher gave you at the door. It has a list of the players names and the rules of the game in print for ease of reference. Handy.
The local team come onto the ice to an eighties rock song that every dad in the room knows the lyrics to. They do their warmups down your end, not forgetting to wave to some of the sponsors they must know.
Ice Hockey Player!Katsuki sees you in the seats that are almost always empty. They belong to the chief executive officer of some company he can’t remember — it’s on his jersey somewhere. This CEO guy has shown up maybe twice all season.
At first, Katsuki thinks you or one of the other women might be his daughter. But on second thought, none of you look enough like him, and his wife is at most twenty-five.
When you catch him staring, you toss up a meek wave and a dreadfully awkward half-smile before busying your eyes with your phone. Behind his heavy mask, he chuckles, ignoring the practice goals that the shitty wingers, Kaminari and Sero, slip past in his distraction.
Thank God that Mitsuki pushed him into goalie training as a child because there is no way he’d be able to aim if you were behind the goal.
As he moves aside to stretch, he continues to watch how you quiver and flinch each time a puck hits the glass in front of you. Your eyes try to follow the multitude of pucks and fail miserably. It’s so clear that you’re new to this.
Kirishima, Katsuki’s best defender, skates up beside him, spraying him with ice.
“Which one is it?” Kirishima asks.
“Huh? What the hell are you on about?” Katsuki scoffs in return.
“Those girls. They’re hot. I was talking to them before. Which one are you into?” Kirishima explains knowingly.
A dry laugh escapes past Katsuki’s gaol-like lips, but he does eventually admit, “the one in the middle. With the… barely appropriate shirt.”
You. You and your v-neck shirt that you chose because it makes the perfect outfit for drinks at the pub post-game.
“Well, do your thing then,” Kirishima says, shoving Katsuki gently.
“My thing?”
“Yeah, your thing. Your goalie thing,” Kirishima adds, but Katsuki continues to stare at him blankly. He goes on, “you know, the thing where you lift up your helmet and shake the sweat off your forehead and take a sip of your water then spit it everywhere.”
“That’s not a thing,” says Katsuki with a shake of the head.
“It totally is!” Kirishima retorts and calls Midoriya, one of the centres, over to back him up.
“Kacchan, you’ve been doing it since high school, it’s definitely a thing.”
“Whatever.” Katsuki clicks his tongue.
But he takes this discussion into serious consideration, and just before the puck drop, he does the thing. He unclips the face of his helmet and flips it up, turning to the penalty box so you can see his side profile and flicking the sugary sweat away from his brow.
His hand, made gigantic by his glove, reaches over the goal and grabs his water bottle. Some of it, he does drink, but another mouthful he sprays out of his mouth, all over his face to cool himself down while simultaneously making himself a million times hotter. When he’s done, he chucks the bottle back onto the goal and clips his helmet back together, returning to the game only after stealing a glance your way.
“I think that might’ve been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you whisper to your friends. “You can never repeat this at work, but, like, I think I want to lick the sweat off that guy’s face.”
“Girl,” the one to your right, with the braids, laughs, “you’re wild.”
“It looks syrupy,” you tell them.
“Ew,” she pretends to gag.
“No, no,” the one with bantu knots interjects, “I get it. He’s smokin’.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re into the redhead. Number, uh—” her gaze moves between the jersey and the hand-out— “number eight, Kirishima Eijirō.”
This reminds you that their names are listed and you grab the hand-out to check the goalie’s name. Number seventeen, Bakugō Katsuki.
You mouth it to yourself, quickly deciding that you like it. It’s fiery and powerful, like the name bearer himself.
The game goes swimmingly for them. One of the centres — number four, Iida Tenya —gets a hat trick by two minutes into the second period and the crowd goes wild. Two more goals are scored by numbers fifteen and thirteen. The other team gets thirty shots on goal and Katsuki doesn’t let a single one in, catching one last puck in his glove just as the buzzer goes off to end the final period.
The whole team crowds around Katsuki, pulling him into a victory huddle and patting his head with the ends of their sticks.
Over the speakers, the announcer, Yamada Hizashi, fails to remain professionally ambiguous by audibly jumping in excitement. He calls it a devastating loss for the visiting team and a major success for the locals.
When the team starts to ready itself for the obligatory handshakes, Katsuki pulls off from the rest to come up to the glass right in front of you. He unclips his helmet again so he can look you in the eye and points directly at you.
Warmth creeps up your neck and over your ears, but you’re unable to avoid his stare as he tosses the puck up the glass and uses the end of his stick to push it under the net. It slips through and falls down onto your lap.
“Thank you,” you whisper, knowing he can’t hear you through the glass but hoping he can read your lips.
“No worries, cutie,” he mouths back before skating away.
Both your friends grab you and start ranting about how there’s no chance you’ll be going home with them tonight. You just drop your head in embarrassment, and a little bit of delight, wondering how you managed to attract a guy that couldn’t even see you for most of the game.
Note: Since I play ice hockey, I've tried to put everyone in positions reflective of their quirks, but Katsuki's a goalie simply bc it's the position that best befits a drummer. Thanks for reading!
