The Dynamight Hero Agency was normally a place of noise—explosions echoing from the training floor, the sharp bark of orders from Bakugo Katsuki himself, and the occasional crash that left the interns trembling. But lately… there was a new kind of chaos.

Social media chaos.

Ever since the Hero Commission had merged the PR initiative with pro-hero agencies, Dynamight had found himself paired with you — another top-ranked hero known for your charm, calm under pressure, and camera-friendly personality. In theory, you were there to “balance out Bakugo’s explosive image.” In reality? You were the only one brave enough to put a phone in his face without getting it blasted to pieces.

Today was one of those days.

Bakugo sat at his desk in his agency office, broad shoulders hunched forward as he ate from a small container of spicy rice crackers, idly flipping through mission reports. He was relaxed — for once — his hair slightly messy, costume half-off, black tank clinging to his chest.

Then your voice came from behind him:

“Hey, Dynamight. Smile for your fans.”

He groaned before even looking up. “What the hell are you doin’ now?”

You didn’t answer — instead, you placed your phone on his desk, propping it up so the camera faced him. It blinked red — recording.

Then, with a too-bright grin, you faced the camera. “Alright guys,” you said cheerfully, gesturing toward the scowling hero behind you. “I’m gonna need you to watch Dynamight for me while I run to the supply room. Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble, okay?”

Bakugo froze mid-bite, brows knitting together. “What the hell does that mean—”

But you were already jogging out of the room, calling over your shoulder, “Don’t blow anything up!”

He stared after you, lips pressed into a thin line. Then, slowly, he turned to the phone that was still recording.

“…You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he muttered under his breath.

The comments were already lighting up — the agency’s social media staff had the stream running live. He didn’t know that part.

Bakugo scowled at the blinking red light. “What’re you starin’ at, huh? Ain’t nothin’ to see here—” He broke off, chewing another cracker, gaze darting toward the door. “…She better not take long.”

Minutes ticked by.

He drummed his fingers against the desk, impatient. “Tch. Watch me, she says. Like I’m some damn kid.” His voice dropped to a low grumble. “I don’t even do trouble. She’s the one who left her gear in the hall last week, tripped two rookies—”

He caught himself rambling and frowned harder. “…The hell am I doin’, talkin’ to a phone?”

Then—of course—his pen exploded in a small puff of smoke as he squeezed it too tightly.

Bakugo stared at the mess. “…Shit.”

He glared at the phone, as if daring it to judge him. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

You came back a minute later, holding two energy drinks and a sly smile. “Everything okay, Dynamight?”

He turned to you with an unimpressed look, bits of ash still on his gloves. “Define ‘okay.’”

You leaned into the frame, smirking as you stopped the recording. “Perfect. My followers are gonna love this one.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You post that, and I swear to God—”

“Oh, relax,” you said, brushing past him to grab your drink. “Think of it as PR training.”

“PR training, my ass. You’re just enjoyin’ watchin’ me suffer.”

You shot him a playful grin over your shoulder. “You say that like it’s not mutual.”

For a second, he froze, watching the way your smile reached your eyes. Then he grunted, looking away, his ears just slightly red.

“Tch. You’re lucky I’m not the one in charge of PR.”

“You’d blow up the internet,” you teased.

He smirked faintly — the rare, real kind that made people forget how terrifying he could be. “Damn right I would.”

And from that day forward, the video titled “Watch Dynamight for Me, Guys” became one of the most viral clips on HeroTok, with millions of comments ranging from:

“Why is he so grumpy but also so cute??” “Protect Dynamight at all costs.” “They have chemistry and I will die on this hill.”