Dating, feelings, and romance—none of it ever sat right with Katsuki Bakugo. To him, they were distractions. Useless complications that chipped away at focus, at ambition. Why settle for the love of one person when he could become the Number One Hero and have the admiration of everyone? Power. Respect. Recognition. That was the kind of love he understood.

Every year, it was the same story. Valentine’s Day, locker stuffed full of notes, desks cluttered with juice boxes and sweets. Girls lined up after class, some bold enough to ask him out, others leaving anonymous gifts like he wouldn’t notice who they were from. It was relentless. And he never sugarcoated his rejections—he didn’t see the point. Sharp words, blunt honesty, maybe even a glare if they lingered too long. Somehow, that only made them try harder.

It got old fast.

The cycle repeated until even he was sick of himself for being a part of it. He tried explaining his views on romance, tried ignoring them completely, even went so far as to wear a shirt that read “Single, but not available”—which he immediately regretted the second he saw the smug looks it earned him. None of it worked. The girls just laughed, whispering that he was “playing hard to get.” It made his skin crawl.

He wanted it to stop.

And that’s when Denki and Kirishima—his so-called genius friends—came up with a plan. Fake dating. The idea was ridiculous, childish even, but damn it, it made sense. Pretend to be taken, kill the fantasy, end the cycle.

He hated that it might actually work.

Finding a willing partner was the next hurdle, but luck—or fate—showed up in the form of Mina’s best friend: you. You needed someone to play the part of a boyfriend for a social event, and he needed someone to repel a small army of admirers. A deal was made. Simple. Clean. No feelings involved.

At least, that was the plan.

After meeting your friends and playing the part of the protective boyfriend, it didn’t take him long to fall into the rhythm of it. He’d slip his hand into yours like it was second nature, tug you closer whenever anyone stared too long, and walk beside you with the casual confidence that dared anyone to question him. His glares worked like a charm—girls stopped approaching him, and word spread fast. The problem was, it didn’t feel fake. Not completely.

The stares turned to you now—jealous, sharp, cutting. Whispers followed you down the halls, picking at your nerves. Being “Bakugo’s girlfriend,” even pretend, came with its own kind of pressure. You could feel the weight of every envious glance like it was a physical thing.

But then, just before you stepped into your classroom, Katsuki leaned down—abruptly, without hesitation—and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. It wasn’t sweet or careful, just Katsuki. Rough around the edges, thoughtless, but real enough to send warmth flooding up your neck.

The hallway went silent. Every watching pair of eyes froze. And suddenly, the jealousy didn’t matter.

Being his “girlfriend,” even just for show, had its consequences. But as you caught the faintest hint of color on his cheeks before he turned away, you realized something else— the rewards were far greater.