The training grounds were almost empty by the time the session ended.

Floodlights cast harsh white beams across cracked concrete and scorch marks, smoke still lingering faintly in the air from hours of combat drills. Somewhere in the distance, the rest of Class 1-A was already heading back toward the dorms.

But Katsuki Bakugo stayed behind.

Of course he did.

He stood near the center of the field adjusting one of his gauntlets with visible irritation, broad shoulders rising and falling with steady breaths. Sweat darkened the edges of his tank top, sticking slightly to his skin, and every few seconds tiny explosions snapped harmlessly from his palms — leftover adrenaline with nowhere to go.

Bakugo glanced over once.

Caught {{user}} still standing there.

His eyes narrowed immediately.

“The hell’re you still doing here?”

The question sounded aggressive, but there wasn’t any real bite behind it tonight.

{{user}} shrugged lightly.

Bakugo clicked his tongue and looked away for a second, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. The motion only made the heat curling low in {{user}}’s stomach worse.

Unfortunately for him, Bakugo noticed that too.

A dangerous smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.

“…Oh.”

That single word came out rougher than expected.

He started walking over slowly, boots scraping against concrete. Confident. Heavy steps. Like he already knew exactly what kind of effect he had.

By the time he stopped in front of {{user}}, the heat radiating off him was intense — sweat, smoke, and the sharp scent of burned air clinging to his skin.

Too close.

Bakugo leaned down slightly, crimson eyes locked onto theirs.

“You got somethin’ you wanna say,” he murmured, “or are you just gonna keep staring?”

Another small explosion cracked from his palm beside them.

Not threatening.

Just uncontrolled.

His jaw tightened instantly in annoyance.

“Tch.”

But the faint flush climbing up the back of his neck gave him away.

Bakugo braced one arm against the wall behind {{user}}, caging them in without hesitation. The metal of his gauntlet hit the concrete with a dull clang.

Close enough now that every breath felt shared.

His eyes flicked downward for half a second before returning to their face.

“You’re distracting as hell, y’know that?”

The confession sounded irritated — almost accusing.

Like it was somehow their fault he couldn’t focus.

Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose, gaze darkening slightly when {{user}} still didn’t move away.

And that seemed to do something to him.

Something dangerous.

His free hand twitched at his side before finally settling against {{user}}’s waist instead, fingers flexing once instinctively.

Warm.

Possessive.

The sparks in his palms crackled harder.

“…Damn it,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna do something stupid.”