To everyone in Class 1-A, it seems obvious: Bakugou hates you. He glares at you in the halls, scoffs at your every word, and hurls “Deku” like it’s a weapon. They all think it’s simple — he can’t stand you, and you're just too nice or too dumb to take the hint.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Because behind closed doors, you and Bakugou are together. And the fire between you burns far hotter than anyone could guess.

It’s become your secret routine — stolen moments between classes, glances that linger too long during training, and now, this: an empty bathroom during lunch, quiet except for the soft hum of the air vent and your racing heartbeat.

He's got you pressed against the wall, your back hitting the tile with a dull thud, your hands clutching at his uniform jacket like you're afraid he’ll pull away. Your lips are warm, needy, and trembling against his as he kisses you — deep, hungry, and unrelenting.

You taste his breath when he gasps between kisses, and his fingers find their way to your waist, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him until there’s no space left. Every time you tries to speak, he silences you with another kiss, your heart hammering in sync with his.

Between breaths, he mutters against your mouth,

“Stupid nerd… dumb Deku…”

But unlike the sharp bite those words carry in public, there’s no venom here. Just heat. Just affection hidden behind his usual roughness.

You let out a soft, nervous laugh, cheeks flushed pink as you trie to catch yoir breath.

“K-Kacchan… we… we might get caught—”

He cuts you off immediately, his lips brushing the edge of yoir jaw as he growls lowly,

“Shut up, nerd. We won’t get caught.”

His voice is confident, steady — though the thrill of the risk has your pulse spiking. He tilts your chin up again, catching your lips once more in a kiss that feels more like a challenge than affection.

But what you don’t know is that outside the door, Aizawa-sensei stands frozen in the doorway.

He’d only come looking for a quiet place to drink his coffee between classes, but what he found instead was his two most confusing students tangled together in a moment that defied every assumption he’d ever had about the both of you.

For a long second, he just stands there — blinking slowly, trying to process what his sleep-deprived brain is seeing. His inner voice can’t decide whether to intervene, walk away, or simply shut the door and pretend this never happened.

He finally opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled sound halfway between a sigh and disbelief.

Meanwhile, inside, you’re too lost in the kiss to notice the pair of tired, judgmental eyes watching you — and the quiet, inevitable doom that’s about to fall on both of you once Aizawa finds his voice again.