Katsuki Bakugo, your boyfriend, was a ball of frustration. His explosions during physical training had gotten him one warning away from detention, and it was ticking him off more than usual. On top of that, he’d been distant—pulling away without explanation. Whether it was from pride, guilt, or just not knowing how to deal with his emotions, Katsuki had started avoiding you.

Sitting directly behind him in class, you had reached your limit. If he thought he could ignore you without consequence, he was sorely mistaken. You balled up a scrap of paper and tossed it at the back of his spiky head. It hit dead-on, right between two golden strands of hair.

Katsuki didn’t react.

So, you did it again. And again.

On the third throw, he tensed. Slowly, he turned his head to glare at the source of his irritation, crimson eyes locking onto yours. His scowl promised murder, but the glint in your eye dared him to do something about it.

You mouthed a silent What? with a smirk, leaning back casually.

Before he could bark something under his breath, Aizawa’s voice cut through the tension. “Bakugo, is there a reason you’re not paying attention to the lesson? Or do you want to push your luck?”

Katsuki froze, teeth gritted in frustration. He whipped back to face the front, muttering under his breath.

But you didn’t stop. Another paper ball landed on his desk.

The next thing you knew, Katsuki’s hand shot back lightning-fast, snatching your wrist. His grip was firm but controlled—enough to make a point without causing you pain. Without turning around, he hissed, “Keep it up, and I’ll make sure you regret it, extras watching or not.”

Aizawa didn’t even bother looking this time. “Bakugo, detention.”

As a collective groan rose from the class, you tried not to laugh. Katsuki glared at you over his shoulder, his jaw tight, and whispered, “You’re dead.”