#titht

His thoughts were still on you when you walked down the stairs and into the main hall, still in your school uniform like him. The sight of your slight smile further enraged him. He had no idea what you could be smiling about, and he wanted to know. Instead his words came out harsher than he intended.

“What are you so happy about?” His voice was gravel crunching beneath boots. Rough and addictive, painful when you fall against them. The frown that took over your face almost made him do a double-take, your eyes narrowed the second they saw him.

“None of your business.” You replied, and it was true. Shinsou and you had just briefly spoken across your balconies before he went back for lunch. The kitten’s name was Kit-kat and you promised not to tell anyone. The mental image of the kitten clawing its way up his white, uniform shirt made you smile again.

“Well, knock it off. Here.” He pushed a bowl of rice and chicken cutlets across the dining table, now cold. “Eat this while I get the cleaning supplies.” He ignored the raised eyebrows, turning around.

“Bakugou, that’s almost kind of you.” He scoffed at the skepticism.

“I don’t need to deal with you fainting and leaving me with all the fucking work,” he mumbled, pulling out equipment from the storage closet in the corner of the living room.

This might’ve been a record for Bakugou. Neither of you was at each other's throats yet, which made you hold your tongue, digging into the slightly cold meal, wondering if he cooked it himself.

It’d been two hours and you wished you wore shoes. From time to time, you found yourself reaching out to him involuntarily, either to feel vibrations through the soles of your feet, or with your fingertips passing by him, but not touching. The waves you felt earlier were no longer there, but traces of it were,always right on the surface. And God, did you want to feel it again.

You were both in the laundry room at this point. You mopped the floor while he dried it. When a step backward kicked over the bucket onto the newly clean floor, the dam burst. It poured off his body in waves through his bare feet, into the tiled floor, and up your soles. The fuse he seemed to keep at a simmer exploded as he jumped up, lifting the edges of his baggy pants and swearing. You were frozen, unable to move. The high frequency at which his body began to vibrate caught you off-guard.

“No, don’t tou—”, the words caught in your throat as he walked, reaching out to push you to the side. He did, and it was as though the air itself was made of Bakugou. Your body moved before you realized what happened and your fingertips wrapped around his wrist.

Katsuki saw it happen as if in slow motion. The way your pupils dilated and the goosebumps prickled under his palm. The look returned. His heartbeat stilled as your head whipped to stare at him. Your grip was strong, holding his sweaty palm in place, the water around his feet forgotten, already draining out into a hole in the corner somewhere in the room.

Your breaths were shallow as you kept his gaze, Katsuki was too shocked to move when your hand traveled up his forearm, over his bicep and shoulders. It was almost as if you were not in control of your own body when it wrapped around the back of his neck and forced his head down to your level. There was something in him that couldn’t look away from the predatory gleam in your eyes. As confusion replaced his anger, you could feel the vibrations begin to die down, too fast, too soon. His hand dropped from your shoulder.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” he whispered, entranced by the swirling emotions in your eyes. The rational part of your mind was losing the battle as it began to cloud over.

“Touch me.” A demand by your body. The waves began to pick up again, different than before but just as intense.

“Don’t tell me wha—” He was cut off when he felt something begin to course through his body, originating from your palm. A moan escaped his lips, his head fell backward.

What was this feeling? There were oscillating waves, traveling down his arms, into his hands, which lifted and grabbed your waist. He felt the shiver wrack through your body the instant his palms touched you, over your shirt, the last barrier. He had no control over his movements, almost floating above his body as he witnessed himself pull you close, against his chest.

“Not enough.” The words were muttered against his chest, and his hands followed unheard instructions as they began to unbutton the front of your shirt.

Why couldn’t he stop himself? His fingertips grazed your skin as they moved under the fabric, around your sides and splayed open on your back. He thought he would collapse under the pressure coming from his neck and flowing into your body. You were all-consuming, absorbing everything he had. It was a closed circuit, a switch turned on, that touch.

It was when your hands brought his head further down, did he realize what was happening. The tsunami that he felt brewing inside himself crashed onto the shore of your lips and nothing else mattered. All he could do was feel the immense power flowing through his atoms, creating nuclear fission, multiple explosions going off all at once.

I don’t want this. Your tongue darted out, a gentle touch against his bottom lip as if asking for permission, although he had no power to resist. Katsuki couldn’t breathe when your tongues danced together, circling each other before you sucked on it. When you panted a hushed ‘more’, he was ashamed of the moans that echoed in the room. Both your hands were on his shoulders to steady yourself when he picked you up and placed you atop of the washing machine. Lips still against each other, his shirt fell off his shoulders, onto the damp floor with just a touch. He was standing between your open legs now, a growing erection pressing against your inner thighs. He felt his hands wander over your chest, cupped your breasts out of the bra, rolling and pinching your hard nipples.

The need to have him was too much for you. Your mind clouded in a thick fog and his hands were your guiding light. You couldn’t see without his touch, he couldn’t see with yours. You whimpered when his calloused hands left your body only to moan as they stroked up your thighs and under your skirt. When they reached the hem of your underwear, toying with the fabric, it was bliss on a knife’s edge.

At the bristle against your damp core, electricity shot through you, parting the sea of mist. You were clear-headed, pulling your face away from his, but only for a second. The needy whine that escaped from Bakugou’s lips made your eyes cloud over. Lust for power overcame you, and you no longer held back. Your hands explored his body as his fingers stroked languid lines along your slit. One hand gripped his hair, blonde tufts poking out between your fingers as you pulled his head down, against your neck. He sucked and licked the salty skin, each taste making him thirstier, harder. Your other hand began to undo the button of his pants. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill. He was frustrated and angry at not being able to move at his own volition, not feel you on his terms.

The emotion hit you like a tonne of bricks, making your toes curl and back arch as his fingers crept underneath the fabric and played with your wetness. A thumb circled your clit, your moans a whip that spurred on his movements. Your fingers dragged against his upper back, red lines raised on his skin as you marked him, before you grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, pants dropping down so he was left in his underwear. His body and actions were yours, hands trapped between your bodies.

The control must’ve slipped as you got lost in the friction, like the sweat rolling off his palms and against your skin. Katsuki’s mouth started to falter against your skin, but when his finger slipped between your folds, he saw nothing but stars. The breath knocked out of him, forehead on your shoulder with your palms pressed flat against his back, wanting to absorb everything into your body. You turned your head to smell his hair—sweat and shampoo—and sucked on his earlobe.

His thick finger pumped in you, your whine against his skin made him hyperventilate. He couldn’t believe what was happening, but he didn’t want to stop. Not anymore.

“Fuck, Bakugou.” Your lips moved, finding his name through the fog, calling out to him.

A part of you sensed the shift; the vibrating waves changed tempo instantly underneath your grasp. Without your bidding, he slipped in a second finger. They massaged your walls with precision, exactly the way you wanted it. The stretch was new, his fingers thick and delicious as they curled up and into your g-spot. The movement shocked you, woke you up, and your palms flew to his chest as if to push him away.

Not again, the thought danced around your head as the hand that gripped your thigh reached up to grab your waist, then your bicep, and ended on the back of your neck, fisting your hair. The feeling of lust so different from anger, yet equally as potent. With it came a new sense of longing. He was no longer oscillating but rather swirling under your touch, like a tornado, each cell spiraled and made you dizzy.

You couldn’t think of anything, only feel the tightening coil in your belly. Your hands moved up as you clung onto his neck. His eyes were open now, just as hazy as your own. When you began to rhythmically pulse around his fingers, he quickened the pace. Your hands dropped to the cool metal of the washing machine beneath you, keeping you upright along with the hand on your neck. A pained growl erupted from Bakugou at the loss of contact.

“Touch me,” he panted your words from earlier. He couldn’t see straight and when your palms left his body, he felt cold and empty, the only warmth between your legs and on his hand.

There was something in his face that made you believe that he might crumple to the floor without your hold. You knew not to continue, that this wasn’t him, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were close to orgasm, the willpower to stop too far out of reach. Your hand reached to palm his erection, tugging down the waistband. His cock sprung free, joining the tangle of limbs between your legs. Unlike his palms, where there was rage, his groin seemed to be the epicenter of lust and when your fingers closed around his girth, you screamed as you teetered over the edge.

The coil in you snapped as stars danced in your vision, flashes of white and black and the red of his eyes. The sounds of the ocean crashed around you. He kissed you again, mouths clashing as teeth bumped and tongues intertwined. All too quickly, his fingers left your sopping core to grip your thigh, right thumb hooked over your underwear to keep it pulled to the side, he aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. Your sensitive cunt tensed as he pushed in and he hissed through his teeth, warm air blowing against your lips.

It was what you were looking for, and more. Finally, you felt it inside you, pulsating and swirling outwards through your core and into your body and limbs, flowing right back out of your palms. You swore the contraption beneath you shook with the same energy, vibrating beneath your fingertips. The hand that was wrapped around his cock had moved to his Adonis belt, palm pressing down hard as Bakugou began sharp thrusts into you.

You fell backward with a moan, eyes rolled up and into your skull at feeling so full. You relied on the hand supporting your head to keep you upright, his forearm against your back. The way his hips snapped against you was sure to leave bruises against your inner thighs, hip bones hitting the same spot over and over again. You were being wound up, a second time, with more vigor, as the machine beneath you rocked in time with his thrusts. His hand pulled at your hair, tugging your head back and your eyes flew open to find his, clear as day.

Katsuki was finally in control of himself. It happened when your hands first left his body and fell to the equipment he was fucking you on. It was torture for him to feel you beneath his hands but not be the ones to control them. He’d never felt such longing before, already accustomed to the intense waves of energy flowing through his body and feeling empty when the connection cut off. Now, he would pleasure himself the way he wanted to. With his right hand still on your thigh, he lowered the left one that supported you until you laid flat, palm spread over your chest, latching onto a breast as he pounded into you.

“Don’t let go,” he grunted in time with his thrusts, venom seeping into his voice. His eyes narrowed as they glanced down at the point where your bodies joined. That jaw of his clenched again and you brought your ankles together behind his back to pull him in deeper. He moaned when you brought your palms up and gripped the arm pinning you, the circular connection established once more.

“Fuck,” Katsuki breathed, thrusts becoming sloppier, “You’re such a slut, aren’t you? So needy, couldn’t fucking wait to feel me inside you.” His degrading tone alone had your heart beating out of your chest, shame welled up inside you.

When he felt the way your cunt clenched around his length, he could tell you were close once more. He leaned forward, a hand traveled up and wrapped around your throat. It pressed on your veins, your head swam with the limited blood supply. Your hands went to his shoulder, then chest, palms flat once more as you felt the full force of his vibrations; rage and lust combined. He groaned the second he felt it, in sync with you. His breath fanned against your cheeks as he grunted into your ear.

“I’m not even wearing a condom. I bet you thought about that. You wanted to feel all of me, didn’t you?” There you were, falling against the gravel that was his voice. “Ungh, fuck, answer me.” The hand that was holding your thigh dug into your flesh, bruising, and the waistband of your underwear bit into your skin at the tug.

He could see the hesitation in your throat; you were unsure of the answer yourself at this point, so he ignored it as he chased after his release, letting go of your underwear and grinding a thumb down on your clit instead. He watched your back arch up in response as you clamped down around him. The sight of you so helpless in his grasp pushed him that much further over the edge, reminded of how he’d felt moments before.

Too soon, before your orgasm crashed around you, Bakugou pulled out and you felt warm, sticky cum spread underneath your skirt, onto your thighs and the bend of your groin. Just as sudden, the vibrations died down and you fell limp. Your hands dropped from his chest and open, knuckles hitting the machine next to you. Your ankles unclasped and lowered down. You felt the cum drip, between your ass and the smooth metal of the washing machine. You felt like curling up inside yourself. The hand around your throat went slack, before it inched upwards and gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“You didn’t orgasm just now, did you?” he asked. You shook your head no. A smirk lifted one side of his mouth, but the amusement didn’t reflect in his eyes. “Good, you shouldn’t get to.” He pushed himself away, clicking his tongue as he tucked himself back into his boxers and pulled up his sopping wet pants. He bent over to pick up the forgotten, spilled bucket and his shirt, but when he stood back up, both slipped out of his grasp, clattering to the floor. Shock plastered across his face as he looked around the room. His head whipped around to look at you.

“What the fuck is your quirk?”

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taglist: @aizawascumslut​, @whats-her-quirk​​, @joyousandverywarlike​, @bubbzibubbles​

Two figures were standing underneath the looming gates, hands clasped behind their backs and chatting to each other as they waited patiently for your arrival. One was extremely small, covered in white fur, and you squinted against the sun as you studied the figure. It was the Principal himself coming to greet you, along with a taller person that had messy black hair that partially covered his face, a thick scarf wrapped loosely around his neck.

The car stopped and you stepped out, a small black backpack in your hands that contained only a notebook, a few pencils and some other necessities. The Principal smiled and walked over to greet you hand raised in a wave, his short legs moving deftly.

“Welcome to UA!” He greeted, his voice was commanding and yet friendly. “I am Principal Nezu and this is your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta.” Aizawa lifted his hand slowly. He had a look on his face as though he had just woken up.

“Please to meet you.” You greeted and bowed slightly, your loose hair tumbled past your shoulders, the ends of your curls swaying in the cool morning breeze.

You hoped that the greeting was satisfactory. You had never lived in Japan before, being a transfer student from abroad. Your father, a top Hero in New York, was offered a job post back here in Japan and had seized the opportunity. He’d always wanted to bring you back to his home, where he’d grown up. It was your final year in a hero course and so it was frustrating to leave everything behind to move to an entirely new country. Being a Hero that helped everyone meant everything to him and you want to show your support. Besides, UA was one of the best schools in the world and you would never give up the opportunity to train with the kids that have been making waves all across the world.

The crime in Japan had increased exponentially over the past years, and any Hero worth his salt would jump at the chance to help. The request had come from the Number 1 Hero’s agency. Your family was in no way friends, but your father grew up in the same classes as Enji Todoroki, even graduating U.A. together all those years ago before taking the first job offer to move oversees. To be clear, Endeavor did not request your father himself. He was much too prideful to acknowledge he needed hep, but it was agreed by the city governors that a few more Hero’s were needed and so the simple letter came in the mail that changed everything.

“We hope you will enjoy your time here at U.A.” The Principal continued and you straightened back up. “It’s difficult to change schools in the final year, but we have no doubt that you will adjust quickly and be one of the top students.” You smiled at the remark.

“That sounds like it will be quite a challenge,” you replied, a small smile on your lips. “The class of 3-A has quite the reputation, even internationally, and I look forward to learning from them as well as the top-rated teachers here.” You bowed your head slightly again. This time it was overkill but you could never be too polite.

Aizawa’s eyes were trained on you, analyzing your words and the way you presented yourself. There was a shyness about you that confused him. He had read your file, knew who your father was, and yet you were being extremely modest. The Principal laughed, the scar on his right eye crinkling up.

“Yes, well, it’s true your classmates are a lively bunch. Let’s get you settled with signing the final paperwork. I have heard you did not bring much with you to move into the dorms, but that can be sorted out when the day is done.” They started walking away, and you slung the backpack that was in your hands over your shoulder as you followed, making polite small talk with the Principal all the way.

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You had your class schedule in your hands as you made your way through the empty halls of the new school. The first bell of the day had already rung and your footsteps echoed against the tall ceilings. The glass windows let in the sunlight and it danced across the linoleum flooring. You were sure that every class was full of students and chatter, and yet you couldn’t hear a single thing.

The door of 3-A loomed above you, bright red, and you prepared yourself for the classmates on the other side of the door. They were infamous in your old school, first popping up two years ago during their sports festival when the boy called Izuku Midoriya went about breaking his bones while fighting the son of your fathers old school friend, and you let out a shaky exhale as your knuckles knocked. The door slid open and Aizawa stood there.

“Ah yes, right,” He mumbled, as if forgetting he was introduced to you just an hour earlier, walking back to the front of the class while you followed behind him. The class was lively, people all talking to each other, but as you stood in the front of the podium, they hushed down and wide eyes stared at you, taking you in.

“Everyone, we have a new student joining us today.” He gestured to you. “She has just transferred here from an academy in New York City, USA, and will be with us for your final year.”

You bowed for the third time today and introduced yourself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you knew you sounded robotic. Meeting new people and opening up was not a strength of yours, but you pushed through it, straightening back up and smiling.

You heard a scoff in the back and a boy with spiky blond hair leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. The consensus around the room was to ignore him and everyone started talking out loud again, welcoming you with smiles and enthusiasm.

“Yes, yes, welcome to UA and 3-A. You can continue this at lunch.” Aizawa shouted over the chatter. Everyone quieted down. “The first lesson of the day is general training to get your bodies moving after the summer holidays. Although, all of you had work and internships, so this should be a piece of cake.” He turned to face you. “There is an empty desk in front of Bakugo you can take later. Now everyone, get ready for your lesson and I’ll see you outside on the sports field.”

Aizawa handed you a metal briefcase with your gym kit in it. Your new classmates stood up and started filing out the door, whoops of excitement in the air. A pink-skinned girl with even pinker hair and thin horns came up to you and gave you a big hug. It took you by surprise, but you hugged back with one arm as your other held the briefcase.

“It’s so nice to meet you! Trust me when I say we are all happy to have another girl in the class.” She beamed, “My name is Mina Ashido!” Her eyes were filled in with black, and yet they shone with happiness.

“Hi, Ashido, I’m looking forward to studying with you,” you smiled back. She laughed in response and linked her elbow with yours to drag you out of the class.

“So formal. Let’s become friends, call me Mina.” With that, she dragged you out the door, following the crowd outside and into another building that house the gym and the changing rooms.

You dressed quickly, surprised that the suit was your size, and wondered what today’s class was going to be like. The girls in your class were all talking loudly, sharing stories of what happened to them during the holidays, and although they weren’t necessarily talking to you, you didn’t feel ignored. There was a large part of you that was hoping today was just regular sparring. You didn’t really want anyone to know what your quirk was right off the bat. It was something that you tried to down-play, instead focusing on hand-to-hand combat and honing your physical skills. The reflection of yourself in the tight suit made you smile. Your muscular thighs and arms were well-defined. Your hair tied up high in a pony-tail.

“You’re not wearing any shoes.” The statement came from Tsuyu Asui. She held up a long finger with rounded edge, placing it on her lips thoughtfully. As she looked down at your bare feet. You curled your toes under before flattening them back down again. You laughed, embarrassed, and rubbed the back of your neck.

“Yeah, I don’t like wearing them when exercising. I prefer to feel the ground.” It was also useful for your quirk as you could intensely feel the vibrations of everything through the soles of your feet and your hands if you needed to. Bare feet was something all your old classmates were already used to and it was just second nature to you. You had forgotten that people usually wore sneakers.

She gave a small nod and smiled.

“I can understand that, let’s go outside.” And you followed her onto the grassy field for the first class of the day, stretching your arms above your head.

Even though winter was around the corner, the sun was hot and there was no clouds in the sky. The cool breeze of this morning seemed to have died down, letting the sun warm everything up. Everyone was excitedly waiting for class to start. Basic training classes were always your favorite and it seemed like everyone was eager to show what they practiced during the summer.

“We will just start with some simple sparring, no quirks allowed, to get your bodies back into the swing of things. Everyone pair up.” Aizawa gestured to the field where white chalk was sprinkled in neat squares to mark the sparring boundaries.

“Hey, new girl. Let’s fight!” The boy called Bakugo shouted, he was frowning and his red eyes were glinting mischievously. His hair was seemed to be alive as he walked to one of the squares, not bothering to see if you had agreed. He was trouble and you knew that from when he won first placing the competition two years ago. You had snickered with your old friends when that picture circulated around the campus, whispering how crazy he looked. You shrugged and followed him, ready to move your body and see if he really was as good a fighter as he seemed to be.

Bakugo had his eye on you the second you walked into the class. He hated the fact that there was yet another person to beat out at the end of the year, even though he was not worried, just annoyed. He challenged you to make a point, show you that just because you were new, he would not take it easy on you.

Facing each other, you got into your fighting stances and for the first time in a long while, you were caught off guard. There wasn’t enough time to dodge and instead you blocked the high kick to your head with your forearms, grunting as your feet slid wide and digging into the grass with your heels to keep your self planted firmly. He smirked and jumped back.

“Welcome to U.A.” He stated, rolling his shoulders and jumping lightly on his toes as he got ready to attack again. You heard the murmurs from your new classmates about how Bakugo just ‘could not wait to start a fight’. You were ready the next time and both of you began to dance around each other. He sent a right hook, which you blocked, following with your own punch, which he dodged. It was a flurry of punches and kicks. He was getting angrier as it turned into a minute where he had yet to land a punch on you, and you could tell your new classmates were not used to this.

They had all stopped to watch. This caught your attention and you dropped your guard, not wanting to let everyone think you were a show off on your first day, and Bakugo sent his palm into your chest, making you fall back onto the ground. The wind was knocked out of you, but you quickly recovered and rolled away, missing the fist that had come towards your face by a second.

“Bakugo!” Iida shouted out, “Please be careful! It’s rude to attack our new classmate with such vigor.”

Katsuki ignored him though, straightening up and punching his fist into his palm.

“I just need to make sure this,” he gestured to your body that was now standing, breathing hard, “extra has what it takes to be in our class.” He was cocky, more so than you expected, and it irritated the shit out of you. You huffed and squared up. He wants to see what you have to offer? You’ll show it to him.

He rushed toward you again, throwing his infamous right hook, and you sidestepped, grabbing his muscular forearm and hurled him onto the ground over your shoulder. Jiu-Jitsu was one of your favorite martial arts and you followed him down, quickly mounting yourself onto his chest, still holding his arm. You were about to fall into an arm bar but he rolled to the same side you were about to lean back to. His sheer strength overcoming your legs that would’ve kept him pinned down. He ripped his arm away from your grip and had now flipped you so that his knee was on top of your chest, in the same place where his palm hit you previously, pressing down so that it was difficult to breath.

He had a wild look in his eyes, taken aback at the sudden improvement of your fighting and had his arm pulled back, smoke starting to leak out of his palm. Before he could bring it down, thick white ribbon wrapped itself around his wrist and pulled him back and off you, the grey whisps disappearing and the smell of burnt sugar lingered in the air. He thrashed against the fabric.

“Enough, Bakugo.” Aizawa boomed, his voice loud and commanding, “Go get a sip of water and calm down.”

You could see he was holding in insults, snarling out swear words under his breath as he tugged at the bandage tied tightly around his wrist. He had grown since his first year, calmed down a little, but his manners had not changed and it took a lot in him to hold back. Aizawa’s pinched the bridge of his nose as the scarf let him go and Bakugo gave one last glare in your direction before turning sharply on his heel and walking to the water dispenser against the wall.

It was for your safety that Aizawa had stopped the fight then, and you bit your tongue to keep in a retort that you could’ve handled it. A hand reached down to help you up. It was Uraraka. Her round face had a slight blush and her eyes closed as she smiled.

“Sorry about him, he gets defensive when there’s any kind of changes.” She explained, waving toward the figure that was now kicking the water dispenser, water flying everywhere. You took the hand, letting her pull you up.

“It’s okay. I kind of expected it.” Shrugging as you rubbed your chest with your palm, feeling a bruise forming where Bakugo’s knee had been pressing. There was dirt and leaves in your hair that you tried to pry out. During the sparring session your ponytail had come loose and your eyes dropped to the grass to look for the small hair-tie that you have no doubt lost to the grass God’s. You sighed and gave up working the grass out of your hair, instead tucking the messy locks behind your ears. The only thing that would help now was a shower.

You and Uraraka teamed up on the next round, playfully sparring and testing each other. You were surprised at just how good this girl could fight, which she explained was due to the internship in her first year. She was shorter than you, but that just made her quick. Soon, your five minutes were up and you switched partners. Within the two hour class, you were able to meet and get a feel of almost everyone.

The class was finished and you all headed back to the changing rooms to shower and get ready for the lunch break. Mina’s arms were slung across your shoulders as she asked where you studied before coming to U.A.

“I studied in NYC,” you started, opening the locker that had your school uniform hanging inside.

“Oh, then how come you speak Japanese?” Mina asked. She was already undressing.

“My father is Japanese, my mom is American.” You stripped the sweaty jumpsuit off and grabbed for the towel folded neatly. Mina and the girls all walked into the showers, and she continued her questioning over the roar of the water.

“That is so cool! Why did you move here?”

The warm water felt good against your aching muscles. The flight to Japan was long and you had only landed yesterday evening, barely giving you any time to see your father since he was already working late. He’d arrived a week before you. Lathering the soap between your hands, you scrubbed at the dirt on your arms, looking down at the purple bruise on your sternum with a frown.

“My dad got offered a spot at Endeavor’s agency to help weed out the rest of the League of Villains.” You replied. The water that ran into the drain was a light brown and you scrubbed the bottom of your feet before starting to tackle your hair once more. You winced when pulling out some more grass.

You heard a collective gasp in the shower room and the shower curtain next to you pulled back, the rings scraping against the metal. Mina’s head poked around, her pink head floating against the white curtain, and you screamed, turning towards the wall away and from her gaze. You weren’t normally shy but you couldn’t help your reaction.

“Your dad is Soil?” She asked. You winced. You hated his Hero name as it made you think of soiled underwear. But it was to-the-point seeing as he could manipulate the terrain and your father was a very straight-forward man. You nodded and she smiled wide, pulling her head back behind the curtain and you heard her go back into her own cubicle.

“Wow you’re so lucky. That man is HOT.” She exclaimed, there was a collective agreement echoing in the tiled room. You finished rinsing out your hair and turned the shower off before grabbing for your towel. As you stepped back into the main dressing area, you crossed your hands over your chest, a look of disgust on your face.

“Ew, that’s my dad you’re talking about.” Your mouth turned down and faked a gag. Mina rolled her eyes. You knew your dad was handsome. You had gotten your own good-looks, height and body stature from him. But you could not stand other people discussing it. Your mother had left him after enduring years of adultery and mental abuse of the way he jumped from women to women. If he wanted something, he went for it. She lifted her hands up as if in surrender and chuckled.

“Sorry, but it’s true.” You shook your head, getting dressed in your uniform.

“Lunch time!” Yaoyoruzu called out as the bell rang and you were glad you did not have to talk about it any longer.

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a/n AGH so there it is. Hope you enjoyed it lol

I’m going to log off and sleep now as it’s 1 am and I have work in the morning

You walked to the dorms that you were to live in. Large doors loomed in front of you as you dragged your purple suitcase over the stoned walkway. The 3-A was hanging above the entrance painted in white on the red brick.

During the last class of the day, you were called to the reception to fill in some forms about the living arrangements, and received the key to your bedroom and front door. You recalled the amenities mentioned by the smiling receptionist; a full gym, kitchen, laundry and bath area’s. Your suitcase had also arrived, being couriered directly from the airport. You had only one that wasn’t even full, so it had felt like a waste to not have waited for it yourself.

As you stood in front of the large doors to the dorm house of Heights Alliance, the butterflies in your belly managed to start up again, wings fluttering and getting caught in your intestines. There you stood in front of the closed front door, not knowing what to expect on the other side. It almost felt as if you were supposed to knock before entering, even though you now lived there too. Your eyelids shut as you took a breath before gripping the handle with white knuckles.

The floor was wooden. A light birchwood that bent and bounced under your weight as you walked across it. Inside the large front room, the lights were bright and gave the room a warm glow. Some of your new classmates were sprawled in the lounge area, watching T.V. It was a collection of arms on the back of the chairs, legs thrown over the top of pillows. Mineta was sitting on the floor near the tv as an actress was jumping off a building, almost as if he could look up her skirt from his angle.

There were dishes clattering in the kitchen, it was carrying voices arguing about who is cooking and who is washing up. Kirishima wants barbecue meat, Momo wants a green salad with plently of fried sides to share. You heard them come to a decision of a mixture of both. Todoroki was standing in front of sink, filling up empty ice cube trays with water. It was as if the house was both the eye and the storm at once. They were working together in a neat chaos and you took it all in as you walked in.

The sounds of your footsteps and the bag wheeling behind you caught the girls’ attention and they all rushed to you. Mina and Uraraka gave you a welcoming hug. Your intestines unwound and you forgot why you were nervous in the first place.

“Finally! We were wondering if you were going to be living with us in the dorms or not!” Mina gestured, linking her arms with you like when you first met. She was extremely friendly and put you at ease with how natural it felt to talk to her.

“Yeah, I am. I had to go fill some stuff out before I got here.” You replied, smiling back at her.

“Awesome,” She said with a thumbs up, catching you off-guard because it was in English, and your smile widened. You pulled your arm out of hers and fumbled for your room key in your pocket.

“What room is 2-3?” You ask, showing the girls the yellow tag.

Mina, Tsuyu, Momo and Uraraka said they would accompany you up to your room.

“Do you mind if we help you unpack?” Uraraka asked, footsteps lightly padding on the floor as you made your way to the staircase, past the kitchen. “We want to get to know you! There are so many boy’s in our class, it’s nice to have another girl to talk to.” You heard a laugh that bordered on a bark.

“HA! As if she’s a girl.” Bakugo roared out, still bitter that you had the upper hand for a few seconds during the short fight. Kirishima grabbed him in a headlock, pulling him down low. Your eyebrows shot up as he was able to keep a firm hold on the neck, not faltering under the strength of Bakugo’s threats and tugs. He had a grey gym tank on that had wide armholes. The movement had shifted one so that half of a dark brown nipple was on display.

“Ignore him,” He flashed a toothy smile. “He just needs to get used to you. Kind of like a dog.” You gave Kirishima a small grin in return. Your eyes snapped back to Bakugo who had set off an explosion against Kiri’s side to free himself. The girls dragged you up the stairs as they rolled their eyes.

“See what we mean?” They all giggled.

Your bedroom was on the second floor, the third to the right of the split hallway. You unlocked the door. It swung open with ease, as if welcoming you home.

There was a simple bed with light grey covers folded neatly on the end. A dark wood desk and chair to do your work on, a set of drawers and a single closet, that already had some school uniforms hanging, courtesy of dad. The mini-fridge and microwave was snugly against a marble counter that had storage space both above and below it. There was an attached bathroom with a toilet and a sink. It was a bare room, which was fine because it meant you could decorate it throughout the year with things you come across.

Your bag fell heavily on your bed and Mina jumped on after it, giddy with excitement. Uraraka explained that they wanted to see what kind of clothes you wore in the USA.

“Well, I don’t want to disappoint you, but it’s pretty normal stuff.” You laughed. They were acting like you came from another planet. “I also don’t actually own a lot of things, so I’m sorry if it’s not up to your expectations.” The purple trolley bag was now unzipped and open. Tsuyu peered over your shoulder as everyone looked at the items. They watched as you hung up your clothes and they chatted animatedly among themselves, handing you some of the shirts and jeans.

It felt good to be talking to other girls your age. Ever since your mom left, it had been you and your dad. The people in your old school had started to shun you after a particularly bad incident with your quirk, which is why you didn’t want to bring it up for as long as possible. And the girls were fine to not talk about what it was, instead bringing up other topics. They’d seen how you’d danced around the questions about yourself from Midoriya’s examination during lunch. He’d been scribbling a notebook about your father but you had changed the topic as soon as he asked about you.

“Oh my!” Momo interrupted as she saw your underwear. It was a rather large collection of thongs, some lacey, most plain. Yet you only owned three bra’s in total. “So skimpy!” She lifted one up by the waist band and stretched it out gently, blushing red. You grabbed it from her, your own face and ears going pink, burning hot.

The girls fell down in their laughter. You quickly gathered it all up and stuffed it into a dresser, deciding to sort it out later.

“I like nice things” you shrugged, closing the drawer quickly.

“What else can we expect from the land of Victoria’s Secret?” Mina wiggled her eyebrows.

They soon left you to your own devices to sort out the rest of your room, welcoming you to UA as they closed the door.

It was 1 in the morning when you were finally ready to climb into bed, having just changed into your red night dress. Everything was meticulously packed away, and you were happy with the way the day turned out. Three framed photograph’s of your family sat atop the dresser. You were about 10, gap toothed smile on display with your parents staring lovingly at each other behind you. The other two were more recent pictures of you with each of your parents after their divorce.

But then your stomach rumbled and you moaned as you realized you had never eaten dinner. You raked your fingers through your thick hair, pulling it against your scalp. How could you have completely missed it? That’s also when you realized that you had not looked at your phone the entire day, and had no one’s numbers. Which was a shock. Your body was still not used to the time difference, so you convinced yourself to head downstairs since you wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

Maybe there are leftovers? You thought to yourself as you shrugged on a thin, white cotton bathrobe and padded quietly down the hall with your bare-feet to make your way to the kitchen. The nerves in your feet hummed in response as your quirk begged to be used.

*************************

Bakugo was definitely not expecting to see anyone. He’d went to the gym after dinner, training until late and was once again hungry. He’d just finished a shower, drops were dripping down his neck. Fingers combing through the blonde hair to fluff it back to its usual points as he made his way to the kitchen, stopping when he saw the light was already on.

Who else could be awake at this time? He thought to himself, eyebrows knitting together as the corners of his mouth turned down.

He really did not feel like talking to anyone and he was exhausted from the extra hours of exercise, so he had every plan of ignoring who else was in there until he saw her. The sight of Rei’s back to him made his blood boil, white-hot heat exploding in his body. It was a melting pot of hormonal lust, embarrassment and knowing there was an unfinished fight. It was made worse by the red nightdress hanging on her body. It dipped into a slight V, showing half of her back. She was fit and muscular, it was obviously the kind of body only achieved by intense training. He found her insanely attractive, which pissed himself off even more. He was 100% focused on being the top hero when graduating at the end of the year. He did not have time for feelings. Especially when it was only normal hormonal lust. So he redirected the anger onto other things: the punching bag in the gym, the sponge he scrubbed himself with and at Rei.

He watched in the shadows as she opened the fridge, bending forward slightly to scan the contents. Her short nightdress rode up, dangerously close to the fold of her ass and he felt his hands begin to sweat. His frown deepened. It felt stifling hot in the dark common area and if he wasn’t already shirtless, he would’ve been pulling at the neck to try and get some air. She straightened up, not finding anything that would satisfy the midnight cravings, and her dress dropped again to a somewhat respectable length.

What an idiot. Dressing like this in a common area. He thought to himself, then he saw the bathrobe on the table that had been taken off when she thought no one was going to be there. He wondered if she was as warm as he in that moment.

He heard a huff and she put one hand on her hip, the contours of her shoulders muscled reflecting in the warm glow of the kitchen and moved the hair that was over her shoulder to the back, thick strands covering smooth skin. It bounced with the movement, natural highlights glinting from the hours she would spend in the sun. It was almost mocking Bakugo for staring so intently.

He watched as she moved to inspect the cupboards and scowled when his designated doors in the corner were opened. Rei’s hands lifted up above her head as she reached for a cookie tin that was just out of reach, her dress lifting up one again. Part of him wished for it ride a little higher, the other part of him wished she would crawl back to the hole she’d come from. It was his cookies that he saved for whenever he wanted a treat. There was no way he was letting her take some. They were his.

*******************

The cookie tin kept shifting away from your fingertips as you made a grab for it, pushing it back a little further each time. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you stretched up onto your toes. You huffed as it scooted all the way back and you dropped back down onto your heels. Someone tall must be their owner to store it up so high, or someone wanting to keep it hidden. Your stomach grumbled again, egging you on for the sweet snack.

Fine. You grumbled, stretching your arm out, hand open. To an outsider, it seemed as if an invisible string was connected to the tin, dragging it from the shelf as it flew into your hand. But what you felt on the inside was pure bliss. It was the first time you used your quirk, in weeks. You loved the rush of endorphins it gave you to have control over the object and you smiled. The cool metal of the tin vibrated against your palms, double chocolate chip goodness gripped firmly.

“Oi, new girl!” A gruff voice cut through the silence of the kitchen and you froze, painfully aware that you were naked underneath the dress. Pivoting on your heels, you saw Bakugo standing across from you, leaning against the counter top with his arms crossed across his bare chest. His biceps and shoulders bulged, nostrils flared.

How long has he been standing there? You wondered. Usually nothing could sneak past you, especially when your feet could feel the vibrations of everything.

Then you realised he saw you. It was nothing impressive, just moving a small object to you, but it wouldn’t be long until the rush of power it gave you would call out to be used again.

“Is that your quirk?” He sneered, with an eyebrow raised, “controlling cookie tins? That’s so shitty.”

You frowned. It was anything but that, but you learnt your lesson a few months ago when people challenged you and it went horribly wrong, and so you bit your tongue.

“Whatever, I’m not trying to impress anyone.” You retort back, opening the lid. You saw his eyes dart to the cookie tin, pupils narrowing.

“I don’t think you can impress anyone even if you tried.” He snapped, his hands dropping to the counter behind him as he leaned back. The pose was relaxed, inviting you to prove him wrong.

“Oh yeah?” you challenged, slamming the tin on the countertop, taking a few steps forward. If he wanted to fight, you wouldn’t back down. You were now a meter away from him, and you puffed your chest up to show that you weren’t going to take any of his shit.

“Yeah, dumbass. You fight like a girl, can’t even punch right.” You had to look up to him. Even though you were tall, he was still a few centimeters above you. His eyes glanced down at your chest before glaring at your eyes again. It was so fast that if you weren’t paying attention, you most probably would’ve missed it. The purple bruise on your sternum that he gave you was bright against the skin of your chest, perfectly in between the sun and moon tattoos underneath both your collarbones. His eyes glinted wickedly.

Your body moved before you knew what you were doing. You stuck right your hand out diagonally, a few centimeters away from touching him. He didn’t flinch, eyes traveling to look at your outstretched hand, raising an eyebrow.

“What’re you going to do? Throw the cookie tin at me? Hah.” He barked, laughing at his own joke.

You held your tongue and just dragged your hand horizontally through the air. Your toes pressed into the floor, feeling for the vibration you wanted. His eyes followed your hand and before he knew what was going on, the cupboard door behind him opened and smacked into the side of his head. He grunted and you turned on your heel, walking back across the kitchen. You were no longer hungry, angry at a man that taunted like a child.

“What the fuck!” Bakugo shouted, his voice echoing in the empty space.

“What are you going to do? Swear at me?” You spat back his own ‘insult’. Your comeback felt sour on your tongue. It wasn’t any good, but you were pissed off and anything you said seemed to make him angrier, which was fine with you. “I was going easy on you during training today.”

His nostrils seemed to flare at that last sentence. The palms of his hands began to steam and spark. There was nothing he hated more than people not giving their all when fighting, people thinking they had to hold themselves back when fighting him.

“YOU WERE WHAT!?” He bellowed, his fists clenched. “I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO AMERICA!”

If you weren’t already used to intimidating men in New York, you probably would’ve flinched at his shouting, but instead you squared your shoulders and started walking back towards him, your own fist closing. You both pulled back to launch punches at the same time. Then, the air got freezing cold and Bakugo’s fists came crashing down as two thick balls of ice wrapped around them. If he weren’t as strong as he was, he would’ve fallen to the floor. Instead, they dropped to his sides, making his shoulder droop down with the weight. A look of complete shock came across both of your faces and your heads snapped to look at the source.

Shouto Todoroki was standing behind the dining room table, looking extremely pissed off in his beige pyjama set. His half-white, half-red hair messy and shadowing his eyes.

“Can you guys please just shut up and go to bed. You’ve woken up the entire building.” He said, voice dripping with contempt. A slew of curse words erupted from Bakugo’s mouth as he lifted up the ice to bang them against each other, trying to crack them open.

You felt your nipples harden in the now cold room and grumbled, once more aware of just how bare you were. You grabbed your dressing gown that was on the dining table. Wrapping it around yourself as you walked back to the cookie tin to put it away. Bakugo seemed to ignore what Todoroki said, instead calling out to taunt you again. There was no way he was going to let this go.

“What, don’t want to eat the cookies anymore? Fine with me, you were pretty fucking heavy.”

You froze. Through the vibrations, you felt Bakugo adjust his weight to lean back, pleased that it granted a response from you. With the cookie jar away, you strode back up to face him for the final time that night. Shouto tensed up, ready to interject once more. It was a low blow, Bakugo knew it too but his chin was raised indignantly.

You said nothing as you stood in front of him. Your eyes searching one another for a hint that either one of you would back down. The balls of ice were already melting and forming puddles by his feet, the cold water spreading to tickling your toes, so you twisted them out. The cupboard door that you had opened next to his head slammed shut. The loud noise echoed in the kitchen and you turned away from the irritating man.

“Sorry, Todoroki. Good night.” You nodded to him and walked back to the stairs, fuming with anger. You could just hear Todoroki mumble about the time to Bakugo and a scoff in reply, but you couldn’t care enough to pay attention anymore, his insult replaying over and over in your mind.

****************

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Your eyes were wide, glancing from Bakugo, to the laundry room, back to Bakugo. The events that just transpired replayed in your mind. Nausea began to bubble up in your stomach as you sat upright, willing your feet to be steady once it hit the wet tiles. He shouldn’t have touched you. No, it’s your fault for not controlling it. You winced when you felt the cold cum slide down your thigh, buttoning your shirt, rubbing whatever you could feel on your legs with the inside of your skirt, thankful you were still on birth control.

The room, once clean and mopped and tidy, was now a complete mess, all thanks to you. All the dryers lining the wall were open, a few dented inwards with the one furthest away shifted out of line, almost ready to fall onto the floor below. The washing machines below, usually two neat lines, seemed to have gotten the brunt of the attack. They were scattered, zig-zagging across the room as the white metal tops and sides were dented in. Somewhere in a corner, a pipe must’ve ripped free as a puddle of water began to form and pool down to where you both stood. Your eyes wandered up, taking in the hanging lights. Thankfully, none had burst. The vibrations must not have traveled there.

Bakugo’s red eyes burned with anger and confusion and you wondered if he always had that level of energy in him. You were used to your quirk, yet you still found it difficult to remain standing, so how was he moving so freely? You were mortified, embarrassed, disgusted. Where could you even start? Do you apologize to him first? Do you explain everything? This was so messed up and you feel your chest start to constrict, tighten up so that it’s hard to breathe.

“Oi!” Bakugo’s sharp tone cut through your inner turmoil. He had taken a step away from you, standing as far in the width between two machines as possible. “Explain yourself.”

Your thumbs fidgeted awkwardly as your palms clasped together, the cold tiles under the soles of your feet an inviting, cool thrum against your frantic nerves.

“Bakugo, I’m sorry,” you began but he waved you off, an exasperated look in his eyes, biceps twitched as his arms across his chest. It was the only sign of muscle strain you could see in him.

“Fuck that, apologize later. What the fuck happened?”

You took a labored breath, tight chest hindering your movement as your mind whirred around the different explanations you could give him. So you settled on the easiest, most detached one.

“I can feel, absorb, and control the vibrations of atoms.” You said, opening your palms and lifting them. The fingers prints and lines on your hands were defined, which magnified your sensitivity with whatever you touched. “Even with my eyes closed, I can see what’s happening around me through the neighboring vibration and move it.” Your fingertips curled into your palms, half-moon indents forming against the skin. “I can’t control it properly. Sometimes, there’s too much energy…”

Bakugo made a strange growl, deep in thought, brows furrowed.

“So, what I felt when you touched me? What was that?”

You swallowed, the feeling of nausea returning as you struggled to look at him.

“It’s like an electric circuit. That’s the best way I can describe it. If I touch something… alive, it can feel my vibrations while it’s being moved, and I can feel theirs.” The explanation is chosen carefully, avoiding the fact that your feet were the same, you didn’t always need to touch objects, that you were a child of a quirk marriage.

Katsuki unfurled his arms and stared into his hands with an expression of longing and confusion. The skin on his palms was so thick, he could barely feel anything underneath them, but when he touched you, he had felt every centimeter beneath his calloused hands. Just remembering the way those vibrations flowed from his and into your body was enough to send him into a spiral of doubt, self-loathing and once again, need.

“Bakugo, I really am sorry. There are no words I can say that makes me losing control over my quirk okay.” The apology erupted from your chest as you saw his face, staring into space at his hands. His eyes snapped up, signature frown and clenched jaw evident.

“Tch, I don’t need your apology. I wanted to fuck you anyway, but don’t touch me again.” He stooped to pick up his shirt and twisted it, the water trickling into a puddle beneath his feet. The wet fabric was thrown over his shoulder, the resounding slap against his back sent another wave of shame through you. He picked up the bucket, then the mop, and busied himself with tidying up whatever else had fallen to the ground.

“Don’t just fucking stand there, we need to clean this place up.” Bakugo chastised, the glare in his eyes deadlier than before as he pushed a machine back in line with the rest.

You hesitated before turning to the machine behind you, limbs heavy like you were wading through water. The cold metal beneath your palm welcome as you focused on the dull thrum. The zig-zagging vibrations of aluminum laid out a map behind your eyelids. You were exhausted and the energy that poured into you from the metal contraption helped you feel a little more human, until you lifted your hands and it dispersed, draining back through the soles of your feet. The machine looked new again, no more dents in the side, the white surface completely smooth. Although your quirk did not drain you of your own energy, it did work your muscles more than any gym could, flushing them with an ache and endorphins.

So you moved to the next one, smoothing out any imperfections that were created before Bakugo maneuvered it back into place. It was soothing and painful at the same time, the feeling of the metal popping back up akin to the sound of a spoon scraping against a pan. It made your skin crawl, goosebumps rose on your forearms and shins. Bakugo made sure to keep a distance from you, at least a machine width. Everything about this day ended up wrong, and you couldn’t wait to crawl back to your room and hide beneath the covers for the rest of the night to ignore the hollow feeling in your chest.

He’d only stood next to you one time for the entire hour that was spent cleaning the room, and it was right before you both turned to leave. Your arms were close enough to feel the static between the hairs, but not touching. You suppressed a shiver and curled your toes up to ease permanent wave rolling off him. The bucket, mop, and broom gripped tight between those large palms, with the same strength they had latched onto your breast. He let out a sigh, head-turning only slightly towards you, ruby eyes peering down.

“I don’t blame you,” Bakugo said. It was curt and final, his tone sincere. Although not entirely relieved, those words made some unwitting tension release from between your shoulder blades. Saying ‘thank you’ in return felt wrong like he meant to pity you. You didn’t know him very well, at least emotionally, but you could tell that he did not pity anyone.

“Don’t tell anyone,” you replied, meeting his gaze, just as pointed. He made a snarky comment under his breath and walked out of the room.

You stayed a minute longer, partly to give him space but mostly to rid yourself of the feeling of his footsteps on the floor. When you could no longer feel him, you cried.

************************************************************

Dabi stood in the middle of the dark room, facing a figure shrouded in shadows, seated in an overly large, pompous armchair. His piercings glinted in the orange flame of the fireplace that flickered in the corner. He crossed his arms, scarred skin tight on his forearms that pulled dangerously against thin skin. They were in the middle of a boring conversation; how to get the League back on their feet, next steps, and it was all Dabi could do not to set the entire place ablaze.

Absentmindedly, he picked at a scab and blood fanned out into the dips of his flesh, red on bruised purple. He mumbled a fuck before pressing the fresh wound with his thumb, annoyed at his habit.

“So, what do you think of the plan?” Shigaraki croaked out, his voice similar to the crackling of the fire before him. Honestly, Dabi had stopped listening twenty minutes ago, he couldn’t care less about how the League pulled out of their slump as long as he got to have some reckless fun.

“Yeah, sounds good. Let me know wha—” The door burst open, slamming against the wall as Giran hobbled in. The golden light of the hallway created a runway directly to Shigaraki’s chair, illuminating the grey hand on the red leather, pinky fingers lifted. Eyes peered around the edge, chapped lips pressed together tightly, as the newcomer was observed.

“You’re late.” He quipped, voice dripping with contempt.

“Sorry, Shigaraki,” Giran reached into his pocket for another cigarette, his tone indifferent to the underground ‘king’. After a long inhale, stretching out the silence, Giran blew smoke out, his jaw tilted to gaze at the ceiling. “I’ve got… news.” He selected his words carefully. Shigaraki had started losing his temper frequently, and Giran did not want to be on the receiving end of it.

“Spit it out.” Dabi huffed, his weight shifted from one foot to the other, a finger stroking the column of staples pressed into his chin. A sigh left Giran’s lips.

“I was cornered last night, well, this morning. There’s a pro-Hero currently in Japan from America, perhaps you know him? Soil?” Shigaraki grunted in response, neither a yes or no, but in distaste. “He wanted me to tell you that’s he’s waiting for you and that you can no longer hide in the shadows.”

The edges of Shigaraki’s lips turned up at the threat. “Someone I don’t know is making threats? Directly at us? They must be incredibly dumb, or incredibly strong. Dabi?”

The scarred man ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it slightly, ignoring the way his skin itched.

“Why don’t we go find out?”

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You and Bakugou were on a yellow couch in the break room, sitting as far from each other as possible. The smack to your chin had caught you off-guard, making you slip off your seat in the middle of class. The chair that followed your body caused a bang so loud, Present Mic had to look at his quirk support item to make sure it hadn’t activated. He’d quickly intervened once he realised it was, to no one’s surprise, Bakugou and the new girl butting heads. He was just going to reprimand the hot-tempered student, when he saw the thick black lined drawing of male genitals penciled in the notebook, balls and all. You remembered the red of the teachers face against the yellow blonde hair exploding upwards as he kicked you both out of the classroom for some reprimanding. He was more embarrassed than angry.

You sighed and leant an elbow on the armrest, pressing some ice against your face.

Todoroki had given it to you as you passed by his desk. It was wrapped in a tissue in order not to give you freezer burn, and you gladly accepted it as you were shooed out and ordered to wait in the current room. Your other hand picked at the material of the sofa. It wasn’t leather, yet it wasn’t canvas either, and you racked your brain trying to think of what it could be.

You tried to keep yourself distracted in this way, focusing on the cold water dripping down your wrist from time to time. However, you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes wandered over to the blonde porcupine. He was slouched down, hands shoved angrily in his pockets, jaw clenching over and over again. Unfortunately, you knew were definitely in the wrong this time. You should not have teased him with your quirk and so you shifted in your seat to face him.

“What?” He snapped as you opened your mouth. His eyes narrowed as his head whipped around to stare at you. Why the hell is he so infuriating? You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that your father would want you to stay ‘grounded’.

“I’m sorry,” you began, “for drawing a dick in your book.” He frowned, looking away from you and staring at the beige wall behind the matching couch that was opposite you.

“You’re damn right you’re sorry,” He spoke, voice carrying in the silent room. The ego behind his words made your blood throb in your ears. He’d been throwing insults at you since yesterday, and here you were trying to make amends first.

The door slid open as Aizawa walked in. His loose hair tumbled over his shoulders in a mess. He had that kind of sour expression like he’d woken up from a nap that lasted too long, and he was both dehydrated and pissed off.

“You two…” He began as he stood in front of both of you, behind the brown wooden coffee table. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he took in the tense air. He sighed and called your name. You sat upright, turning to face him attentively. While Aizawa may look like a mess, he commanded an authority beyond anything you would’ve expected from a man hidden behind bangs.

“Why did you draw this in Bakugou’s notebook?” He asked, pulling the notebook out from a pocket behind his back, opening it to show you the crude sketch. You wanted to tear the page out.

“He was being one.” You shrugged, giving Bakugou a side-eyed glare. He huffed.

“Was fucking not.”

“You kicked my chair!” 

Aizawa let out a sigh.

“You were on my desk, shit-brain!”

You almost lost it, then, saying what was actually on your mind. You wanted to shout, but it came out soft, in such a small voice that almost wasn’t your own.

“You called me fat.” He froze, his frown of anger instantly disappearing as it was replaced with confusion. Even your teacher hesitated, not knowing whether to interject, before falling onto the couch behind him to lean forward attentively. Realisation flickered over Bakugou’s face as he remembered the early morning fight.

“No, I called you heavy. Not fucking fat.” He was laughing, gums baring to the world as the rumble exploded from his chest and filled the room. “I’m not a liar. You’re heavy as shit, look at you. Muscle is like, 10 times as heavy or something. Eijirou can tell you the exact fact.” You felt a blush begin to creep up on your cheeks. Your palm squished the soggy ice tissue, forgotten during all the commotion and the cold water ran down your wrist, cooling down your rising body temperature. You wanted to throw it at him. You wanted to hear the satisfying noise it would make when coming in contact with his cheek. You didn’t.

“Bakugou, you shouldn’t mention someone’s weight.” Aizawa threw the book onto the table, effectively silencing the laughter. “You also shouldn’t punch someone in the face.” Bakugou huffed in response, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was aiming for her hair.”

“You’re both suspended from class for the rest of the day, with cleaning duty.” Bakugou’s excuse came at the same time as Aizawa’s punishment. Your mouth fell open. Without leaving room for any rebuttal, your teacher stood up, took a final look at his students and walked out of the room.

You were on your way to the residences. Bakugou was stomping, hands shoved in his baggy pants as he walked a couple steps ahead of you. He didn’t even leave the front door open after he walked in. You blocked it with your toe before it shut, stepping into the empty common area.

A rough hand darted out at you, grabbing your uniform shirt collar and slamming your back against the door. He made you wince as his knuckle pressed into the bruise he left yesterday. He knew it, and dug just a little bit deeper. His red eyes bore down into yours. It made you wonder if he enjoyed the fact that there was a tangible mark under your shirt.

“You really piss me off.” Bakugou stated, voice low and menacing. His free hand planted firmly next to your head, potentially scorching the door with the smoke that had begun to filter out from between his fingers. He smelt like a campfire.

“Yeah, well, bite me,” you pried his fingers open as you kept his intense stare. He moved so that his arms were boxing you in, muscled forearms rippling near your ears. For a second, you thought he would. There was something indiscernible stirred in with his anger. It was the center of a blender, swirling together. It was hypnotising. You slowly placed one of your hands against the door behind you, finger tips spread, palm flat. You almost shivered when you felt the vast amount of energy rolling in waves through your skin, oscillating in your nerves and vibrating your bones. It was all encompassing, making your shoulder jump up with the sheer force of it.

“What’s wrong with you?” His face scrunched up, eyes darting down to see your hand against the door. “Oi, what the fuck are you up to!?” He tsk’d, pushing away fluidly and crossing his arms.

The second his palms left the wood, it’s hum returned to the normal dull pattern that chopped trees would usually give off. It felt empty, stagnant, . As dead as the door itself. Your fingers twitched as they ached to feel such power again. I want to touch him. You bumped the thought out of your head and curled your hands into a fist to subdue the itch. You thought about the ways your father taught you to keep a level head. That’s why wood had such a consistent vibration. Be like the wood.

“You’re the one that keeps picking fights.” You gloss over his quirk comment, straightening your school uniform to make a point. His eyes followed your hands. “I get it, we never established a clear winner in our sparring match, so we should do it now to get it over with.” Bakugou seemed like he was about to explode, but he nodded his head. His eyes darkened as he thought about it, tongue swiping across his teeth and under his lips.

“Fight rules?”

You were almost sorry to pass up the chance to make him land on his back again.

“Rock, paper, scissors.” You deadpanned. A frustrated growl erupted from his throat. His nostrils flared and instead of saying another word, he turned on his heels and stalked his way to the kitchen, slamming open the fridge. You could not help the snicker that escaped your lips. Worth it.

I guess I won this round. You mused, making your way to your room to begin replying to your fathers messages.

You had been talking to your dad for what seemed like hours. You spoke to him laying on your bed, sitting against your closet doors, spinning in your desk chair. Now, while he was finally reaching the conclusion in his speech of disappointment, you were standing on your balcony. You held the phone away from your ear as you lazily took in the details of the building opposite you. Your room was on the side of the dorms, and therefore, was face to face with someone else’s balcony across the grass. There were trees planted that should’ve obscured the view, but there was still a direct line of sight to a sliding door.

His voice rang out loud over the speakers, reprimanding that it was the second day of school, and how he did not raise you to continue unnecessary conflict. You continued to stare in the cool blue reflection of the window opposite you, eyes unfocused as Soil went on and on. Movement on the other side of the glass made you snap back to reality. You squinted to try and see through it, wondering who could be on the other side since it was… lunch time!? Shock coursed through your veins as you realised you’d been on the phone for 2 hours, listening to a one sided conversation.

“Dad,” you interrupted him mid sentence and his voice lulled. “Sorry, I know I—” The sliding door opened and the tall purple haired boy from this morning walked out, cradling something in his hands. Your words of apology forgotten on your tongue.

“Hm, beansprout, can’t hear you.” You brought the phone closer to your face.

“Just, I’m sorry.”

You heard your father let out his heavy sigh that told you the conversation was over. As you said your goodbye’s, Shinsou looked out across from his balcony, catching you with lazy eyes. He held your gaze with a smirk, slowly lifting up one of his fingers to his lips, zipping his mouth shut. Then he lifted up the other hand that was cupped against his chest. You could barely see it, but in his palm was a small black kitten.

***********

Soil tossed the phone back onto his desk with a clatter. Large, calloused hands wrapped around his forehead as he rubbed at his temples before pulling it down his face to scratch at his chin.

What am I going to do with that girl? He thought as he shuffled around the paperwork he was working on, going over what he wrote about the encounter with Giran.

It’s been two years since Shigaraki had disappeared, but the underground network of villains have seemed to surge in number over the last few months, tipping the balance of power ever so slightly. It was enough to bring out the worst in people, have them lose their faith and security they had once felt all over Japan. Soil knew he had to come back home when the influence had started reaching his part of the world, like an incessant hammer until cracks had started to form. He had to stop it at the source.

A knock on the wall of his cubicle interrupted his deep train of thought. One of the many sidekicks at Endeavor’s agency stood there, sheepishly grinning at the visiting hero. His thumbs were twiddling in the thick yellow gloves.