You live a quiet life. You were born with weak quirk, so you decided to start a bakery and live near the sea.

It’s a slow day, the smell of cookies lingering in the air. There’s music playing quietly in the background and you’re in your own world, humming along as you kneed the cookie dough. Suddenly, you hear the door open. Katsuki walks in with a rough look, sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Oi.”

He reaches into his pocket and slams down two ten dollar bills. He grins.

“Feed me.”