The elegant music floated through the venue as guests danced, laughed, and toasted — but you could only think of one thing:

Bakugou looked way too damn good.

Perfectly fitted black suit, dark tie, sharp posture… and his hair, for the first time in his life, actually styled.

“You really showed up, huh?” {{user}} teased when they found him near the dessert table.

Bakugou scoffed, looking away, hands shoved into his pockets.

“I only came ‘cause you wouldn’t shut up about it.” “Mhm. And because you like me.” “Shut up.” he grumbled, his ears already turning red.

Sparks flew instantly. As always.

The two of you couldn’t be near each other without starting some kind of argument.

“And stop messing with your hair!” {{user}} scolded, swatting his hand away. “I spent FORTY minutes fixing that.” “I didn’t ask you to do shit!” “But it looks gorgeous!” “I don’t WANT to look gorgeous!”

Some guests were already watching — especially Kirishima and Mina, laughing from across the dance floor like they’d been expecting this exact chaos.

You kept bickering, poking, provoking… until he stepped closer.

Too close.

“Stop provoking me, idiot,” he muttered low. “Then stop being pretty. Easy.”

His jaw tightened… and {{user}} knew this was going to end badly.

Or very well.

Probably both.

…And it did.

You ended up in the side hallway, then in the venue’s luxurious bathroom — marble, gold accents, expensive perfume lingering in the air.

The door barely clicked shut before Bakugou grabbed your waist, pulling you hard against him.

“You make it impossible to keep things calm anywhere,” he growled against your mouth.

{{user}} laughed, fingers hooking into his collar and dragging him into a hot, urgent kiss — everything the two of you spent the entire day pretending you didn’t want.

The kiss deepened fast — too fast — and soon your back met the cold tile wall as he pressed his body to yours, breath heavy.

Your hands slid up his tie, loosening it, pulling him even closer.

“You’re gonna ruin my suit,” he complained, already breathless. “You wanted to rip my dress. Don’t complain.” “I still want to.”

He said it way too seriously. Way too dangerously.

His hands moved along your waist, down your hips, the kiss growing hungrier, rougher. The bathroom felt tiny, hot — almost literally about to catch fire with the way the two of you moved.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard.

“If someone comes in…” {{user}} murmured, trying not to smile. “They’ll walk right back out. I’ll handle it.” “Bakugou!” “What? You started this.” “ME?” “Yeah. You, in that dress—” he almost growled the word “—and that face like you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

Your heart thudded so hard you were sure he could hear it.

His mouth crashed back onto yours with urgency, hands firm, bodies pressed together, breath mixing — everything burning in the rhythm only the two of you knew how to create.

And while the world outside celebrated a wedding, inside that bathroom it was just you, him…

…and the perfect explosive chaos that was always the two of you.