It had been a long day—training, patrols, and endless sparring with your classmates. You were both exhausted, slumped onto the couch in the common room, but somehow conversation flowed lazily between the two of you.

And then it happened.

“Kacchan—” you said casually, letting the nickname slip before your brain caught up.

The moment the word left your lips, Bakugo froze mid-breath. His green eyes snapped wide, pupils dilating slightly, and a blush—just faint but unmistakable—spread across his freckled cheeks.

“Tch—what the hell did you just call me?!” he barked, voice sharp as ever, but there was an undercurrent of something else—interest, possessiveness, almost giddy anticipation.

Before you could react, he lunged forward with the agility of a predator, closing the gap in a heartbeat.

His small, explosive grin was gone, replaced with that rare, soft smirk reserved for moments of complete attention.

He landed beside you on the couch, elbow nudging your side to demand your focus.

“Don’t you dare say that again unless you mean it!” His voice was lower now, almost possessive, vibrating with intensity.

He leaned closer, eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away. “You just woke the real me, got it? I’m all yours now!” You stayed silent, frozen, as Bakugo’s energy shifted.

He draped an arm over your shoulders, tugging you slightly against him, and for a second it was like he’d become a lapdog—his entire focus on you, his little green eyes tracking every twitch of your expression.

“I don’t care who else is here!” he continued, a playful growl creeping into his tone. “You called me Kacchan again, so now you’re stuck. Can’t even blink without me noticing, got it?!”

Despite the volume, his tone had softened slightly with each word, the hotheadedness mixed with that subtle possessiveness he only ever showed you.

He adjusted his position, pressing closer, shoulder nudging yours, head tilting as if daring you to escape.

“Tch… dumbass,” he muttered, feigning annoyance, but his eyes betrayed him—soft, green, and completely focused on you. “Think you can just say my name like that and get away? Huh? Think again.”

For the next several minutes, Bakugo monopolized your attention entirely. Every small movement of yours—blinking, shifting, sighing—was tracked, critiqued, or teased.

Occasionally he’d mutter under his breath, “…so dumb… but I kinda like it,” or, “…don’t even think about leaving me alone.”

The room around you might have continued with the lazy hum of late-night activity, but for Bakugo, the world had shrunk to the space right in front of him.

His arms tightened slightly, elbows nudging, body leaning just enough to make it impossible to look anywhere but him.

And there you stayed, silent but fully aware of the way his focus—and his fiery little heart—had completely latched onto you, all because you’d accidentally called him Kacchan.