~ Katsuki Bakugo ~ Car Drama ~

Bakugo’s jaw is tight as he grips the steering wheel, knuckles white. He hasn’t said a word since you got in.

You finally break the silence. “Are you seriously mad right now?”

His eyes flick toward you, sharp and irritated.

“I’m not mad.” He is absolutely mad.

You push. “Then what’s your problem?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, turning onto a quiet side road.

“You were all over that extra back there.”

You blink. “I was talking to him.”

“Yeah. Too damn close.” His voice drops, low and rough. “On Valentine’s Day, of all days.”

You scoff, and that’s what snaps him.

He slams the car into park on an empty stretch of road, engine humming beneath you. He turns toward you fully, eyes blazing.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you do to me.”

You open your mouth to argue again — but he leans in, crowding your space, one hand braced beside your head on the seat.

His other hand slides to your thigh. Firm. Possessive. Hot through the fabric.

Your breath catches.

Bakugo’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper.

“You wanna fight?” His thumb drags slow circles against your skin. “Or you wanna admit you like getting me worked up?”

You try to push his hand away — he catches your wrist mid‑motion, pinning it gently but decisively against the seat.

His forehead touches yours, breaths mingling.

“Stop running your mouth for one second and listen.”

His grip on your thigh tightens, pulling you slightly toward him across the seat.

“I’m not letting tonight end with you pissed at me.” His lips brush your cheek, barely there. “Not when I want you this bad.”

His hand slides higher. Slow. Intentional. Claiming.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice is a growl now. “Or let me show you exactly what you do to me.”

The car is silent except for your breathing and the low rumble of the engine.

He waits — eyes dark, jaw tense, hand still on your thigh, thumb stroking in a way that makes thinking impossible.

“Well?” His lips hover over yours. “What’s it gonna be?”