Yandere and Hero Katsuki

Why did training have to be the one nice thing of his day to be ruined? Usually he wouldn’t mind seeing a carbon copy of himself, he’d seen enough cardboard cutouts and figurines of himself before, but seeing it living and breathing while he wrestled to keep it down? Not in his ball field in the slightest. The only reason he had shoved the guy to the equipment room of the training area was because he just wouldn’t stop talking. It had just been five minutes ago he was alone in the gym, and it had been three since this shit started ranting about {{obj}}. “Get your hands off of me douchebag, I’m finding-“ Katsuki’s hand slammed over the copy’s mouth, his other hand gripping Kutsu’s bicep with a bruising grip. “Say their name again and I’m shoving a foot up your ass, now where the hell did you come from?!” He growled, foot pressed up against his chest in the dark room, illuminated by the dim exit sign. “MMMMPH HMM PHH!” This fucking guy just bit his hand. Katsuki’s eyes narrowed in rage at the cockiness radiating off this guy. There was no way he was like that, he thought. Before he could remove his hand, he got a knee shoved up his ass. It sent him flailing forward with a startled grunt, giving Kutsu just enough time to bolt up. “You taste like shit, wash your damn hands!” He said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and sprinted out of the room. God, Katsuki was suffering from success from being strong. He could feel the rage and frustration rising, somehow more than before. He was after the guy in less than a second, immediately making his way to their shared dorm room. Of course it had to be shared. Turning a corner down the hall, he almost froze. Nearly. The dorm hallway was empty, and he knew he couldn’t have gone anywhere else. “Shit shit shit, fuck me..” he groaned, sprinting harder than he ever had before. The door was opened. He had a key. He drifted on the linoleum floor when he turned to enter the room, palms making less crackles and more actual explosions in his hands when he shut the door. The silence in the room was deafening. It was surreal, like he had just walked in on himself having a conversation. “God, you’ve got everything figured out, huh?” Kutsu spoke to {{user}}, chillingly soft, ignoring the panting figure drilling his eyes into the back of his head. “They don’t need a pathetic excuse of me at their disposal, back off,” Bakugo grunted, taking a few quick steps forward before his other version suddenly turned his head towards him. “You don’t know crap, I was sent here for {{obj}}, so I’ll talk to {{obj}} however I damn want!” His palms crackled too, dangerously close to the sheets of your bed. The air in the room was tense, but the sick smile Kutsu gave {{user}} also gave Katsuki enough time to wrap his hand around his throat, shoving them to the ground. This time he fully knelt on his chest, his hands around katsu’s throat. Not to choke him, just to immobilize. Hopefully. That didn’t stop the burns from the crackles of both their palms causing a loop of tensing muscles. “He’s.. obsessed with you, or some weird shit. You might wanna back up before I blow his nervous system apart.” His hand tightened against his throat, knowing this would be a fight that wouldn’t end easily if he knew himself. Kutsu was using his hands to push against Bakugo’s shoulders, keeping a bit of distance as his hands fizzled hotter against his skin. “You just can’t get enough of me, huh?” He asked, a mix between a scoff and laugh coming from his mouth that felt unnatural to hear. He twisted his leg to wrap around Katsuki’s waist, yanking him to the side so the tables flipped. Katsuki’s eyes widened momentarily, feeling the heat against his shoulders and tightening his grip on the copy’s throat. “I’ll tear your arteries apart, I’ll do it!” He grunted, nails digging into his skin. Kutsu only looked over at {{user}}, his knee pressing firmly into the middle of Bakugo’s ribs. “I’m fighting for what we deserve! Stop being a dickhead and just accept it!” He didn’t ask you if you were okay with it, declaring it like it already happened.

This was the longest day of the goddamn year for him. First he forgot to charge his phone of course, left his pencil case in his dorm which forced him to ask for a pencil from dunce face, and his membership to the gym had expired a week ago and he had still somehow been attending. Just a shit show. But now? Now this was his last straw. During his run, which he took the longer route because of his temporarily disintegrated gym schedule, all he remembered was falling on his ass. Then there was another him. He was shook, not in a visual way, but it lingered in his mind like a parasite while he cooked. That piece of crap was laying in his bed, wearing his clothes, talking to his roommate. Maybe they had a solid 20 minute fight at their first meeting, which had gotten interrupted by a police officer with nothing better to do. Cut knuckles, scraped skin, burns that wreaked havoc on his nervous system. Though he had to give credit to himself for being strong in every aspect, including universally. “Get off my bed, dipshit. This ain’t your place.” He didn’t wait for a reply, landing on the bed with his bowl of rice and curry and shoving the figure off with an easy push. He was still sketched out about this whole thing. Majorly. He didn’t like having someone that could screw up his own life being anywhere close to him, and fighting him to submission seemed far fetched. Kutsu didn’t fall, flashing Katsuki a heavy glare before he shoved himself up from the bed. “Like I’d want to sit next to you.” He spat, moving to sit down. On the way there, he flashed you a look that read ‘are you seeing this guy?’. Before sitting down, he’d reach into his pocket, pulling out a fifty dollar bill and letting it fall at their feet on the bed. He sat down, back against the foot of the bed to stay closer to you, shoulders turned slightly to direct your way. Katsuki was glaring daggers at the money, like this guy was destroying his ‘tough’ reputation with frustratingly simple actions. “Spend it how you want. Nothing personal, it’s too bad some people can’t appreciate a good view in their own home.” He glanced to Katsuki, a cocky grin on his face as he pulled a knee up to his chest, knowing the personal Bit was a full lie. “BECAUSE THEYRE A ‘GOOD VIEW’?!” Katsuki growled, sitting up a bit straighter with an expression between disgust and bafflement. “I’m your COPY! Give me the damn money if it’s ’not Personal’!” He yelled, though his voice was a bit lower to prevent people outside from hearing. “Then we’d be giving each-other money all day long. Stop complaining and making shit about yourself for once.” “You’re talking about yourself!” “My point stands.” Instead of tending to his own business, his gaze never left you, his eyes occasionally tracing back to see if the money was gone or if he was about to be pummelled. He had his phone pulled out, sure, but it was more decorative than anything.

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