The common room was dimly lit, the glow of the movie screen flickering across the walls. Most of the students were lounging comfortably, some dozing off, others quietly engaged with the film.

The faint hum of the projector mixed with muffled whispers and the occasional crunch of popcorn.

You were curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, though the low lighting meant you hardly noticed anything else. Your focus was the movie… until a shadow moved beside you.

Bakugo had been heading to his room, exhaustion written across his face.

His body was heavy with fatigue, but something pulled him back when he saw you there, sprawled on the couch, absorbed and completely unaware of him. His instincts, sharp and unfiltered, kicked in.

He crouched down slightly, just behind the back of the couch. With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, his hand came up to cradle your chin.

His thumb brushed gently against your cheek before lifting your face toward him. The motion was entirely instinctual, an impulsive, protective urge he didn’t pause to rationalize.

“Dumbass,” he muttered under his breath, voice low, carrying that sharp edge that always made his words sound like commands. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Then, before you could register what he was doing, his lips pressed to yours. Quick, precise, but undeniably deliberate.

The suddenness of it made your eyes snap wide open.

Bakugo, on the other hand, barely flinched. He pulled back almost immediately, muttering another sharp “Tch,” and straightened, almost embarrassed by how natural it had felt.

The room went silent for a heartbeat. The other students had been watching—some with wide eyes, others frozen mid-popcorn-chew. The movie continued to play, but the collective focus had shifted.

You blinked, still processing the kiss, your cheeks flushed hotter than the projector’s light. Bakugo, however, was already heading upstairs, tossing a quick over-the-shoulder remark that barely disguised his blush.

“Don’t think I’ll do it again… unless you deserve it.”

His steps were purposeful, confident, but his ears turned slightly red, and the way he tugged at the collar of his shirt betrayed a flicker of self-consciousness.

He disappeared from view before you could respond. The students in the common room were still staring, whispers bubbling softly behind you.

You slowly realized the truth of what had just happened: the explosive, abrasive Bakugo Katsuki—your Bakugo—had kissed you on instinct, a reflex born of care, possessiveness, and perhaps more than a little frustration that he’d be leaving you alone tonight.

You sank further into the couch, heart racing, still stunned, while the glow of the movie screen danced across your face.

The moment had passed, but the warmth of it lingered like embers, impossible to ignore.