Archive of Our Own ^beta

Uraraka Ochako had always believed that aiming to become a pro-hero was a notable and commendable goal. 

Years of training at the most prestigious hero academy in Japan would have surely brought a plethora of perks and opportunities as the pathway unfurled before her feet, but as she and her fellow students all plowed their way through each assessment, each training exercise, each exam, and each scheduled tournament, the spectrum on which she sat alongside her peers stretched drastically.

Even at their graduation ceremony she had glanced across at the sea of faces of those in her year and the realization of the vast scale of talent, skill and promise hit her like a ton of bricks. 

She had been glad to graduate at a modest level, just above average, and with some offers of hero work at a handful of agencies. Yet, sitting at average was like standing part way on a threadbare rope bridge across a canyon. Some of her peers, like her, were clinging on for dear life, some not even setting a foot on it, and others - the top three from her year - were so far ahead that they were staring down into the abyss at them from a cliff edge. 

The obvious differences in them had only been made more clear as time had passed. People got pigeon-holed into different hero roles and it was only a matter of time until Ochako started to understand that her achievement at graduation equaled the trajectory of her professional career. 

Now, standing in her dingy apartment building lobby, she opens her mailbox. Rifling through the overdue bill reminders fills her with a familiar feeling of dread, but the superintendent of her building had told her that an overflowing mailbox would become a problem if she didn’t organize it soon. 

Her fingers stop short at the same time her eyes catch a glimpse of a golden envelope sitting boldly and perfectly amongst the crumpled pile of leaflets and payment reminders. The stark overhead lighting hums against her otherwise silent surroundings but does not quell the warm golden hue of the card that has somehow remained unscathed. She reaches in, pinching the card between two fingers, and slides it out delicately as the remainder of the junk sits untouched and forgotten once again.

“A letter from U.A…?” she says in a whispered breath as her eyes scan the ever familiar embossed logo and school motto across the front. 

She traces along the edges of the decoration, letting the tip of her finger trough and rise along the patterns and letters, and her mind teases her with the delicious romanticisation of the past, to a time when things were simple and she had not been made bitter with the truth of the real world. She rushes her fingers to slide under the seal and tears it open hastily. 

Dear our most treasured former students,

We welcome our alumni named on the invitation as thus:

Uraraka Ochako: pro-hero Uravity

To our Dark Academia Ball taking place on All Hallow’s Eve, at U.A’s Banquet Hall and Library.

Please wear Halloween attire. 

-U.A. Alumni Council.

Ochako huffs a surprised laugh and sinks her back against the wall opposite the row of rusting mailboxes. The peeling of the ancient, cheap wallpaper sits in her periphery and she glances around as if someone from U.A could answer her question of why she was being invited.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been a somewhat successful student but she had ended her school life underwhelmingly average and never quite in the top percentile. 

The most recognition she had received during her time at U.A. was two-fold: the battle of her quirk awakening during her turmoil with Himiko Toga, and before that when she had won a match against Bakugou Katsuki - who had sat consistently at number one in every year at the academy.

She doesn’t willingly venture too deep into those particular times, though. Toga plagues her thoughts and has done so for many years, still at times interrupting her sleep and causing her nightmares even during her waking hours. 

And Bakugou… Well, that’s complicated . 

He’s constantly in the public eye, on advertisements and TV - and that is the only place she can now stand seeing him, to be honest, because she can switch him off and shut him up. 

Dynamight is currently, and has been for almost seven years, the number one hero in Japan. 

She’d been at one of his rescue scenes recently, coincidentally, but he didn’t stick around to make nice - heading straight back to his own agency building after doing his part (his part being showing his immense power in the battle and then arrogantly making a statement whilst reeling off a list of advertisements in the middle of it). 

Bakugou, in the first couple of years of being crowned number one, had extended various invitations Ochako’s way. She suddenly appeared to be working rescue at many of his high-profile crime scenes and was garnering more recognition.

At first, she was drawn in. Bakugou lingered in her mind and treated her like a somebody . She accepted his calls and his influence on ensuring she was at the scene of such huge cases. Her recognition started to climb, slowly but surely, and she felt the pride swell inside of her. 

It only became apparent to her after a few weeks of this agreement what his motives were for doing her such a kindness .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bakugou’s showing me his new agency building next week,” Ochako had gushed to Jiro and Tsu as they sat in a cafe together. “I’m so excited and nervous… and he asked me to go out for dinner. Is that weird? I mean, I know , it’s Bakugou, but…he seems kinda different these days. I mean he’s the number one hero and - oh my God - he got super hot! It’s weird!...Is it weird?”

Ochako giggled outrageously, a pink blush taking over her cheeks, but was met with stoic faces opposite her. 

“It’s not that weird to think the number one hero is hot, Ochako,” Tsu said, as straight-forwardly as ever. “But you know why he’s doing it, don’t you?” 

“He said he thinks my skills for rescue are the best for his cases, so he wants to talk in more detail, and maybe about using my quirk for other things,” she’d replied, sipping on her vanilla latte, her eyebrow cocking in confusion. “And, anyway, all the work at his crime scenes is really boosting my numbers!”

“Bakugou doesn’t usually care enough to notice those things,” her frog friend commented, nudging Jiro. “You know he’s worked with Kyoka a few times…”

“Yeah, and he still barely communicates when we do,” she huffed with a roll of her eyes. “Chacks, I hate to say it, but there’s more to him helping you than doing so from the warmness of his heart.”

“What are you talking about?” she’d scoffed incredulously. She and Bakugou had a fairly okay acquaintanceship since their school years, mutual respect she thought, especially after she’d beaten him in an official match back then. Did none of that explain his various invitations to work alongside each other now? 

The pair opposite her exchanged glances and Jiro continued, “Chacks…He does this with women that he wants to…y’know… get with.”

“What?!” The blush attacked her cheeks relentlessly.

“It’s true,” Tsu added. “We both have girl friends who have been enticed by Bakugou.”

Ochako felt her jaw slacken. She had heard some stories about him in gossip columns but she tended to ignore the crap the media liked to print about outrageous rumors. She herself had been the victim of vicious and ridiculous hearsay. Some were so farfetched she wondered how someone had even managed to concoct it, and so she rarely believed the stories printed and shared. 

But maybe some of it had been true - in Bakugou’s case, anyway.

“When one of my friends found out that I knew Bakugou, she begged me to put her in touch with him, and then I got to hear the details…well, up until the part of their experience silenced by an NDA. I’m thankful and glad I didn’t have to hear all about it, honestly,” Jiro huffed before sipping at her coffee.

“Same here,” Tsu added. “And it’s always the same. Show her his luxury agency building, peacock around giving people orders, go to dinner and then…”

“I got it, thanks!” Ochako blurted, her voice shrill. “But Bakugou…there’s no way he’s doing that to me? I mean, we went to school together?!”

“And?” Jirou asked, frowning. “He’s always had a thing for you, come on.”

Ochako almost spat her coffee across the table and over her two friends. “Shut up!”

“Are you saying you had no idea?” Tsu asked. “You’re the only girl he ever complimented.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ochako had left that friend date completely bewildered and muddled. 

Bakugou threw fame and money at her like he could buy her attention and her unwavering loyalty. He wanted her on his team but she was so blindsided by her friend’s dropping that bomb on her, that she couldn’t stay. She wanted to establish herself, by herself…not because Bakugou wanted her as another notch on his bedpost.

So, she cut him off.

That decision all but plummeted her popularity level - which unfortunately was one of the main parts to being a successful hero. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uraraka!” 

“We’re on duty,” she growled through her earpiece. “Hero name.”

She heard the crackle of his voice again as he cockily enunciated, “ Uravity .”

“What is it, Dynamight?” she couldn’t help the coldness of her voice in return.

“Shibuya Crossing. Need rescue team.”

Ochako had to swallow back her biting feelings and focus on her job. “On my way.”

Once the crime scene had been successfully cleared, Ochako headed angrily on her path back to Dynamight’s agency - the typical way things ran after being involved in one of his battles - for the debrief, which she would then have to recount to the Pussycat’s later. 

She watched Bakugou with a scathing look as he continued his arrogant speech to the awaiting press, hoping that none of the media outlets would jump on a still shot of her caustic expression and run rampant with some insane story about her. 

Luckily everyone was focused on the number one hero, as expected. She and the other rescue heroes dissipated into the background - where they belonged, apparently.

“What’s up with you?” Bakugou gruffed as he later strolled into his office, in which she was sitting waiting. His mask was shoved roughly onto the top of his head and was pushing his hair back, highlighting his sharp features. She wondered if he did it on purpose after she’d - stupidly - once complimented him on the idea of a slicked back hairdo suiting him. 

Despite absolutely seething, she couldn’t deny that her mind had been plagued more than once by the thoughts of his rippling, broad muscles and intense expressions. She shook her head for clarity.

“I don’t want to work in collaboration anymore.” She had to say it fast and she had to say it now.

He halted partway into the room, staring at her with that aforementioned intense expression she found to be simultaneously intimidating and sexy . She seriously had issues, she thought.

“You what?”

“You heard me,” she muttered.

“You don’t want to work with the number one hero agency? That’s a stupid fucking move, Angel Face.”

Ochako stood up with her fists balled in frustration. “No. I don’t want to work with you , Bakugou. I heard all about you throwing money at women, inviting them to check out your agency, wining and dining them, and then expecting them to get into bed with you - well, that is not happening with me!”

Bakugou’s hand shot up rapidly, motioning her to stop her chatter. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“Don’t!” she all but yelled. “I thought you wanted to help me. The stupid fucking move was believing you.”

“I am trying to help you! You really think I’m trying to…get you into bed?” The last words fell from Bakugou’s mouth through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, I heard all about your methods and it conveniently sounds very familiar to what you had planned with me next week!” she bit back. “So just leave it. I don’t want to increase my popularity if it means having to fuck my way to the top.”

She tried to storm from the room but Bakugou’s grip was swift and strong on her arm. “You can’t be serious.”

Their eyes locked together in a fiery stalemate as Ochako snarled, “Goodbye, Bakugou.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glancing around her building at the recall of her negative memories, she wills herself to focus on other things… but her head is already traitorously reeling.

Bakugou basically controls the stock market - her mind viciously taunts. If Dynamight is seen eating something, drinking something, using something or wearing something then that item becomes sold out in minutes, and so he practically drowns in sponsorships. 

She thinks about her own sponsorships - it doesn’t take long. 

There was one notable sponsorship she’d done during her first year as a graduate, when she worked officially at Ryuko’s agency - she was employed there for a total of three years before moving to the W.W.P (Wild Wild Pussycats) agency to focus specifically on rescue missions, where she now remains.

She had been involved in the sponsorship back when she was around nineteen, for a fairly well-known sportswear company. They had wanted to highlight the versatility of their new apparel range. Her photoshoot was her suspended in mid-air while she floated in various poses, and that had been the most famous sponsorship she’d worked on, and by far the most fun. 

Other than that, she hardly sees the continuous rolling checks coming in like some people do.

Heaving herself off the wall, Ochako shuts her creaking mailbox closed and fumbles with the dodgy lock until she’s too pissed off to care anymore, and heads back upstairs to her apartment with the card still gripped tightly in her hands. 

Her one-room apartment is cramped and minimalist. She likes to say it’s because she prefers it this way, but in truth she isn’t doing well enough to live very comfortably. She has learned to get by extremely modestly. Truth is, rent is expensive and only continuing to increase, and she has to live within a certain radius of her workplace. Although the W.W.P agency provides a grant, it barely covers anything by the time she’s paid her insurance and fees. 

Being a rescue hero is honest work but it’s by no means glamorous.  

The idea of working as a hero had swelled in her head during her student years as something luxurious. She thought she’d have it all. 

Then when she graduated and began working, she realized something very fast…

In a world where the majority of people are blessed - or cursed - with quirks, the supernatural abilities of each person are competing against an extremely oversaturated market. The hero sphere is constantly changing and evolving and as new generations learn and grow, heroes continue to arrange quirk marriages to try and guarantee future success, and it gets more and more difficult to keep up and stand out.

And what does Ochako have to give? Her quirk is perfect for rescues - she has been told this time and time again.

Her phone rings suddenly as she kicks her boot against her front door and she pulls the buzzing device from her pocket, shoving it to her ear when she sees that it’s Mina calling her. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Chacks! Did you get one too?”

“I’m guessing you mean the card from U.A.?”

“Yeah! You’re going, right?!”

Ochako doesn’t know. It isn’t as if she has much expendable income to drop on a costume. She’s actively been trying to work overtime and take on extra shifts, so it’s entirely possible she is rostered to work.

She checks her online schedule at Mina’s command, who’s determinedly attempting to convince her to attend the event, and conclusively finds that she isn’t on the rota for work and any option of overtime is inapplicable. 

She glances across to the invitation card that sits proudly on her wonky coffee table and with a weary sigh, she confirms to Mina that she will think about it.

For some reason, it feels as though she should attend the U.A. event. 

***

It’s only been two weeks, in Ochako’s defense, since she had received the invitation from U.A. to their Dark Academia Ball . Time flies by when you’re consistently on the go and feeling almost burnt out and your days consist of working, eating and sleeping. The decision of whether to attend the event had hardly crossed her mind because, excuse her , she had been on several rescue missions, including one in the mountains. 

So as she stumbles into the party store clumsily, still in her hero costume after her shift, the elderly clerk stares at her, unamused at the awkward intrusion into her business.

“Can I help you, young lady?”

“I need a costume for tonight! I know it’s super duper short notice…”

The lady behind the desk laughs outlandishly. “On Halloween?! I doubt I have-”

“-Anything will do!”

This isn’t necessarily true. Ochako would have liked to have been more prepared.

The lady smiles sweetly and retreats into her stockroom, returning with a total of three items… three . Ochako admits she’s blind to just how popular Halloween appears to be.

“This is everything we have that would be fitting for Halloween.”

“Thanks. What are they exactly?”

The craned, old shop clerk points a shaky finger at the plastic bag which packages a burgundy corset and black skirt. “These are pieces from two different costumes that we had extra stock for. I don’t know the sizes but that’s all that's left.”

Ochako sighs and holds up the bag carefully. Burgundy and black are Halloween-y colors and she could make it work, she supposes. Maybe with Mina’s help.

“This is some fake blood…” The lady’s withered finger hovers over a small bottle of oozy red goop.

Knowing this, Ochako cocks her eyebrow and thinks about the huge vats of it that they have at the rescue training center. She could have brought some fake blood back home with her today, had she been more prepared.

The lady’s shivering finger jabs, lastly, at a wig. It’s midnight-black and long and stored sloppily.

“I’m sure you can guess that this is a wig.”

“Yes,” Ochako replies with a sarcastic smile in response to match the tone. “I think I’ll take them, then.”

“I’ll be gracious,” the old lady coos. “And give you a discount for relieving me of the last dregs of my Halloween stock.”

“Thank you.”

“What a night to reunite,” she suddenly murmurs as she rings up Ochako’s items.

“Excuse me?” 

Her weathered eyes stare so deep into Ochako’s own that she thinks she can see into her soul.

“Tonight will be the night of your heart's true desire. Two fated lovers finally bound by blood. So say I.”

“O-okay…” Ochako finally breathes again and hesitantly exchanges the money for her items. This old woman sure is getting into the spirit of Halloween.

“Have a good evening, my dear.” The singsong voice of the old lady lingers with Ochako as she takes her arbitrary costume.

Trying to forget the bizarre speech from the creepy lady, Ochako stands at the bus stop amongst the other awaiting passengers and the air nips against her. She hugs her jacket around herself tighter as the plastic bag of her random-crap-costume blows lightly in the cold breeze. 

She ambles onto the bus in auto-pilot mode when it arrives. It’s busy, as usual, and she stands staring blankly out of the window, holding the nearby pole for support as they pass through the blur of the city. 

And then, as if on some malicious timing, the bus stops alongside a large billboard featuring none other than Dynamight.

There he is - plastered across her field of vision in a swarm of bright lights and colors, moving as if mocking her. His grin, feral and confident, now his trademark. Similar, but not, to All Might’s old unwavering smile, she thinks. He appears to be advertising some kind of sports drink. 

She wills the bus to move and it does and she exhales a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, however when she finally makes it home she notices her building lobby now adorned with the same irritating face. 

Apparently the universe is conspiring against her. 

Bakugou’s toothy grin surrounds her as a ton of leaflets advertising the new Dynamight™ Electrolyte Energy Bomb! fill the walls. She steps through the door while the buzz of the lights once again provides ambiance and is in two minds whether to rip all of his stupid faces down off the walls but she doesn’t want to get in more trouble with the super - he is already being lenient with her. 

She stalks through the lobby with her head down, as if Bakugou can actually see her through the eyes of the leaflets, and rushes upstairs with her makeshift costume ready to go. She doesn’t have much time to make this work, stopping to have the quickest shower of her life, and she’s feeling a tad exhausted from her shift but Mina is on standby via video call with soothing words of encouragement.

Mina is already dressed, as an angel of all things, and Ochako hesitates blurting out an obscene comment regarding that particular choice. She needs Mina’s help first and foremost.

Slightly out of view of the camera, Ochako rips open the bag containing the clothing and shows Mina, exaggerating the several layers of tulle that make up the skirt. Not her favorite style, personally.

Still, she needs to make do. Perhaps she can treat herself and wear it with some of her nicer underwear - the ones with a hint of lace - and a pair of sheer tights she has somewhere. Though, it slowly becomes apparent as she rummages around that her drawer is devoid of any underwear. She stares in horror at her hamper.

Oh God, no!

She hasn’t done her laundry. 

Mina is rushing her excitedly - and reminding her that she has only an hour until they have to be at this event. Ochako wonders if she should even go.

But she had spent the money. Not going would result in it being a complete waste and she just cannot fathom that idea. Money is tight - which is an understatement - and she knows she won’t be able to sleep if she just throws it down the drain. 

No, she will grin and bear it. 

She grabs the sheer tights and yanks them on, being careful not to tear through the delicate material, and takes a deep breath. 

Seems like she’ll have to go commando. 

At least the skirt is long and billowing enough to keep some semblance of modesty…

Moving her focus to her corset, she feels the structure and embroidered detailing, and notices it comes together at the front with laces of ribbon. Mina offers to help her when they arrive at U.A. later and so Ochako simply does the best she can with the range of motion her arms and wrists will allow. It is a stunning corset for a last-minute find and Ochako feels like she can make something fitting for the Halloween theme after all. 

Perhaps a sexy pirate?

The skirt flows across her and the material just hints at her skin like she’s breaking through a waterfall of shadows. She feels somewhat ethereal in a dark, witchy way… maybe a sexy witch would be the way to go.

She isn’t sure why her mind is defaulting to ‘sexy’ but she thinks it’s probably Mina’s reaction to the corset accentuating her tits. 

“Damn girl, you look like some kind of vampire queen!”

Ochako halts, faltering. Her mind rushes to Toga, the battle of her quirk awakening, and suddenly the blood pulses aggressively through her veins. She grabs the wall for support and swallows the feelings down, taking deep and controlled breaths as she had been taught in therapy. No. She can’t relive this now.

Instead, she draws a conclusion that she will channel the energy differently. In another world she and Toga could have been friends and she could have saved her from such a horrific life - she had worked through the details of this so much with her therapist. 

Tonight she will face her anxieties of seeing her old friends and U.A. again, and she will hide her sad hero life behind a confident facade.

Ochako laughs a little too loud as she breaks from her inner turmoil, and then pulls out the vial of fake blood to wiggle it in front of the camera. “Well, I have just the thing!”

“Oh, wait! I have some fangs you can wear - they’re here somewhere. I promise I didn’t use them. Want me to bring ‘em?”

“Okay, thanks. Then, it’s settled. I’ll be a sexy vampire queen.” Ochako laughs quietly and then pulls the mangled wig from its plastic prison. “Now I just need to sort this out, somehow.”

She yanks her own hair roughly into a bun and pins a couple of loose strands away before shoving the wig across her head tightly with a struggle, much to Mina’s amusement. She’s getting hot and clammy doing all of this in such a rush, and she hasn’t even started her makeup yet. 

After some jostling, she finally allows the midnight waves to cascade down her shoulders much like the waterfall of the skirt around her body. 

It looks uncanny.

And she feels like a different person. 

“Amazing! Gorgeous! Stunning! Now, go and do your make-up! See you soon, okay?” 

Ochako bids her friend goodbye and grabs her sparse collection of cosmetics. She hopes that a ton of black eyeliner and eyeshadow will bring it all together. She has an old red lipstick from years ago that she held onto for some reason and she remembers seeing some tutorials before to make her lips look vampy by using some black liner. 

And somehow she manages to pull everything together to not look… terrible . 

She certainly looks like she’s going to a Halloween party but she probably isn’t going to be winning any competitions for this costume. Especially not at U.A. nor whatever the hell a Dark Academia Ball is supposed to be. 

Her phone rings again as she’s about to leave. It’s an unknown number and she hesitantly picks up, simultaneously hoping that it’s her agency because she’s getting anxious as the event looms closer, and hoping that it’s not her agency because she’s gone to so much effort to get into character.

“Hello?” she answers politely.

“Uraraka Ochako,” comes an equally polite voice. “Your car is waiting outside.”

“My car?” 

Ochako rushes back towards her window where she can sort of see into the street if she angles herself just right, and sure enough a large black limousine awaits there. It idles on her littered street outside her shoddy building. She almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it.

It is then that she notices a weight inside the pocket of her skirt and she reaches in as she clasps her phone between her shoulder and ear, pulling out a pendant from the black material. It’s a gold chain holding an ornate locket, decorated with a single red stone - she’s pretty sure it’s not a real ruby - and inside are tiny vintage photos of a man and a woman. The faces and details are blurred and worn away and she cannot make them out clearly. 

With a shrug she drops the locket into her bag. It must be part of the stock from the store. It looks kind of creepy, anyway.

“Ms. Uraraka? Are you there?”

“Yes, sorry… I didn’t request a car…”

“This is courtesy of U.A.”

Moments later, she’s stepping awkwardly into the limousine with the help of an older gentleman in a suit. She hasn’t been treated like this in years. During their graduation and for some time during the first year after, while everyone in their class were still household names and before the new generations started to make their mark on the world, she had been treated more like a VIP. Perhaps that is why the wounds ran so deep and sour within her. As the days, months, years had ticked by, the world chewed her up and eventually spat her out.

The city passes her by in a muted blur this time and the early evening scenes play out through the tinted windows, as people try to figure out which important person is inside. 

Ochako wonders what people will think if she sticks her head out of the window. Will they deflate anticlimactically? She isn’t anywhere near the top ten list of heroes. It’s not even on her horizon at this point. Most people pass her by in the street without a second glance. Sometimes she’s asked for an autograph by some obsessed fan or some weirdo - that had happened scarily more than once - but it was a rarity. 

The journey continues and soon the streets ignite a blast of familiarity within her as she approaches her old academy. U.A. still stands on the mountain like a beacon of promise and the route up there cuts through the city before transforming into a manicured private driveway. Ochako grabs and sips at the glass of champagne that has been provided in the limo and glances out of the window. She’s lost count how many times she’s seen Bakugou’s face today and she agonizes over whether he will attend.

She doubts it. 

He was hardly ever sociable in his younger years and now he must be on such a tight schedule that it’d be impossible for him to even think about something so trivial.

As the alcohol courses through her, which is also a rarity these days, her control begins to waiver. Her lip curls up in a sneer as the car stops short of another advertisement for the ridiculous supply of Dynamight products. She scoffs at his picture, rolling down the window quickly and flipping her middle finger - not caring even if he could see her through the eyes of his advertisement image.

The car moves along and she retreats to her drink again, downing it hastily in preparation to lie through her teeth to her old friends and acquaintances. Even Mina doesn’t truly know how bad things are. 

Still, tonight, Ochako vows to live in the moment.

Upon arrival at U.A., Ochako shoves her champagne glass back in the holder and the car door is pulled open by a tall man donned in a suit and masquerade mask that conceals his entire face. She takes his awaiting hand carefully and is whisked out of the vehicle with such grace she isn’t sure her feet are on the ground anymore - has she activated her quirk accidentally?

“Welcome to the ball, Ms. Uraraka,” the masked man says suavely as he dances her across to the entrance, leaving her slightly stunned. “Tonight, you can enjoy the tastes of dark academia.” 

“Th-thank you.” 

He lets her loose and she stumbles a little as the large double doors open before she can knock. She hasn’t even had a chance to draw a breath in preparation, or to mentally steady herself, and then the air is all but knocked from her as the open entry reveals a sight so beautiful she could cry. 

A pull, as if magnetic, draws her in through the doorway and her eyes don’t know where to look first.  

The Banquet Hall is decorated with hundreds of black and gold roses, each one a perfect bloom and with thorns so sharp they could slice through skin like butter - beautiful and so tempting to touch, yet so potentially lethal. The climbing ivy that scales the walls abundantly is glittered with gold flecks and the invasive vines of it stretch out further to entwine the pillars. Huge renaissance paintings with elaborate golden frames hang from the ceiling at varying heights, showcasing classic art with a modern method. There is a live orchestral band playing on a stage at the far end of the room, and a wafting, lingering scent that is sweet and musky at the same time permeates the space. Ornate candelabras float around delicately and illuminate the room in a warm, alluring glow and Ochako steps further inside to this gothic wonderland.

And her costume feels suddenly so very… cheap . 

She grimaces and runs a hand down herself subconsciously.

Luckily, Mina spots her hanging awkwardly at the entrance and guides her into the room to fully appreciate the complete ambiance. It is truly magical. There is no other word that Ochako can use or think of to describe it.

“Chacks!” Mina pulls her in for a hug. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good! Wow, this place looks incredible!”

“Doesn’t it? By the way, I got the stuff for your costume. Shall we go to the bathrooms?”

“Good idea,” Ochako replies breathily as she turns to scope out the room. She can’t appreciate every single detail and it pains her because it all deserves some attention. Her eyes scan the small congregation of people that have already arrived, but apparently it will get busier - her driver had told her that some one-hundred invites had been sent out. She doesn’t see anyone else she recognizes yet.

The bathrooms do not hold the same ambiance as the Banquet Hall, much to the disappointment of the girls who battle together against Ochako’s corset. Mina yanks against the lace up ties and Ochako wills her lungs and her ribs to squash down just a little…bit…more .

After some battling, she is tightly in the corset and looking… curvaceous, to say the least. Ochako hasn’t seen herself look like this before. Sure, she had worn a catsuit many times but this was a different level of revealing. Mina urges her on enthusiastically as she pulls out a pair of elbow-length, black satin gloves from her bag.

“I found these too, oh my God aren’t they perfect?!”

Ochako slips them on and takes a breath. These little details certainly add to the overall look and make it seem less like she’s haphazardly scrambled it together. Her heeled boots underneath her skirt have awarded her with some height, the corset has generously added to her existing curves, and the wig in combination with her makeup is giving her complexion a striking look that she didn’t think achievable with her soft features. 

“Oh, the fangs!” Mina remembers. 

Mina adeptly glues the fangs to Ochako’s teeth and she stares at herself in the mirror, dragging her tongue carefully across her new sharp additions and puckering her lips seductively. 

“You look amazing!” Mina gushes as her white angelic robe flows around her movements. 

“So do you!” Ochako replies as they grasp each other excitedly. “This is going to be so fun!”

Ochako is determined that it will be fun. One night to forget real life.

“Wait, you forgot this…” Mina says, grabbing the necklace that lays on the counter.

She doesn’t remember taking that from her bag… but still , it can be part of her costume considering it was thrown in with the skirt. As Mina helps her to fasten it around her neck, Ochako takes a deep breath, her breasts heaving in the corset as the locket lays heavily on her skin, and smiles confidently at her reflection. 

“Perfect,” Ochako murmurs to herself. 

***

Katsuki stares at his reflection in the mirror of his huge ensuite bathroom as he rakes a gelled hand through his trademark spiky hair. In his usual style - wild on top with a faded undercut - the line of his jaw is accentuated but tonight he wants to wear it slicked back. He knows that the sharpness of his features stand out even more like this.

“Sir, are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

He rinses his hands, flicking the golden faucet on and choosing a spiced soap from his selection of scents to wash the hair gel from his callused skin. He dries off with the fluffy towel offered by his house staff, while his assistant spritzes him with a luxury cologne at his request, and then makes his way down the imperial staircase of his home. His expensive scent lingers behind him as he descends and it will last long into the night.

The tailored suit he’s wearing fits perfectly against his muscular frame. Years of working with such a physically-demanding quirk has worked wonders on his physique and he’s nothing short of proud of it. Scars scrawl across his entire body like a showcase of his battles, but the only visible ones now lay across his hands, neck, and the one that traverses across his eye and cheekbone - the others now concealed by his expensive suit.

He slides his tongue across his teeth and touches the pad of it against the fangs that have been adhered to his own. The cosmetic special effects expert has worked magic on him and he looks almost unrecognizable with his paled face and darkened eyes. 

There’s something he finds powerful about vampires - perhaps it’s their quiet self-assurance. He isn’t usually one to declare anything quietly, but Halloween feels like a time he can forget about being Dynamight - even if it’s just for one night - and focus on trying out something different .

Not that Katsuki doesn’t love being Dynamight, or being the number one hero in Japan, but if he’s honest, with age comes wisdom and he finds himself often imagining another life. He used to scold himself for fantasizing about an existence that would be less than perfect but being number one comes with its fair share of cons alongside the plethora of perks.

He has more money than he knows what to do with, he has so many opportunities that he has a backlog, and the amount of fans he has accumulated means that he could congregate his own army at the drop of a hat. 

Running parallel to all of the positives, though, is serious insomnia which results in him often being medicated just to get a few hours of rest, the fact that he is continuously putting his life on the line, how there are circles of people that he has to filter out and learn who he can trust, and many, many propositions for business and sex. 

Not that he minds the latter, but his team hate producing NDA’s so he’s attempting to rein it in.

Some would say he has it all, and he pretty much does. But Katsuki can’t help the ever-growing nagging feeling that there’s something he’s missing. 

Sometimes, all the money, all the business meetings, all the battles, all the sex with random groupies… it gets boring. He wants something new and exciting. He wonders how that’s possible considering he does more in one day than a lot of people ever do in a lifetime. 

People fawn over him at every chance and he laps it up every time. He loves to be adored. Even when he’s a bastard - which had been especially true in his early pro years - people still fall to their knees over him. 

It’s surprising he hasn’t got a huge ego, really - he tells himself. 

Katsuki is escorted by his team into his awaiting limousine and his PR manager slinks across the seats for a final meeting of the day. He sighs impatiently as he pours himself a glass of champagne. 

“Without RSVPs, it's impossible to tell how many will attend tonight’s event,” his PR manager begins, swiping on a tablet as he speaks. “Let’s hope enough people are intrigued.”

“They will be,” Katsuki says with finality before drinking down some of the delectable drink he’d become very much accustomed to. He hadn’t been much of a drinker in his youth but now he won’t turn down a quality product. He’d imported this from a notable vineyard in Épernay. 

“I like your confidence, but why do you say so?”

A smirk creeps across Katsuki’s face, looking evermore dangerous with his current vampiric sophistication, and his scar crinkles as his eyes narrow. “People can’t resist nostalgia.”

***

Ochako and Mina reach the hall just as the crescendo of the orchestral song is being played, like they had planned some kind of dramatic entrance. In amusement, the pair head towards a waiter, also unidentifiable thanks to his decorative mask, and take a glass of expensive champagne from his tray. 

“Do you know who’s coming?” Ochako asks as she sips and surveys her surroundings. 

Everyone has made a considerable and noticeable effort with their costumes. Ochako could see a variety of characters including various devils, angels, zombies, some black cats, and one princess. 

“Yeah, well, those who we still speak to, y’know… Yao-Momo, Kyoka, Kiri, Denks and Hanta!”

Ochako hardly has time these days to contribute to their group-chat, admittedly; she’s been radio silent for weeks - probably months.

“What about Tsu?”

“She’s on tour abroad.”

“Oh…” 

Guiltily, she scowls at herself. She hadn’t even wished her friend good luck as she didn’t realize it was happening so soon for Tsu to be off on her international trip. Some friend she is.

“Don’t worry, we know how busy you are these days.”

“Yeah…”

“Anyway, they should be here soon. I bet Yao-Momo’s gone all out! ”

It will be no surprise to find that to be true.

“Is Izuku still in the U.S?”

Mina nods and gulps down her drink. “As far as I know.”

Ochako laughs lightly, awkwardly. She hasn’t seen much of her friend group in so long except if they happen to be working the same incident. “Tenya? Shoto?”

“They might come, actually!” Then Mina scoffs a bitter laugh. “I’ll tell you who we won’t see though… Bakugou. ” 

Ochako’s mind flashes the images of Dynamight on his ridiculous advertisement crusade. 

“There’s no way he would ever show up to something like this.” Ochako nods in agreement and she stops herself from downing the drink in her slightly trembling hand. The alcohol is starting to rush to her head. She needs to slow down.

Suddenly, Ochako is bumped as Mina is whisked quickly away by a man in a suit of armor, and a hearty chuckle confirms that the wearer of said costume is Kirishima Eijiro. Mina is released from his dipped hold as he raises her back up to a vertical stance, as if they’d been dancing a tango, and laughs loudly.

“Good evening, ladies,” he says through the opening of the helm as he bows. “Such a pleasure to see you.”

Mina cackles. “Fucking hell! You really got into character, huh?”

“A knight?” Ochako giggles. “I like it!”

“Thanks! And hey , long time, Chako,” he drawls with a small pout as he pulls her in for an fairly uncomfortable hug against his chest plate. “You doing okay?”

“I’m doing great!” She manages to say it without her voice or lip wobbling and giving away her true feelings. In the center of their triangle she raises her glass and the trio clink together happily while Ochako goes against her screaming instinct to slow down on the alcohol.

It isn’t too much longer until the remainder of their group-chat is face to face with each other in a place other than a crime scene or rescue incident. It seems slightly surreal to be able to exist in such an atmosphere without waiting for the anticipated ping of a call to action. Ochako supposes that U.A. could pull such strings with agencies; it’s not as if there was a shortage of heroes and rescue agencies to cover one night. As long as Dynamight and his agency are present in public, most citizens will rest easily and not question their safety. 

“Yao-Momo, you look stunning!” Mina gushes at Yao-Momo’s elven fairy costume. Her whole ensemble hugs her perfectly and has been beaded so intricately that Ochako is certain that it’s completely handmade - which would not be surprising, either. Her pointed ears poke through her long, pin-straight hair teasingly, and her wings are as if she’d swiped them directly from a human-sized butterfly. They were as beautiful as the hall.

“So do you,” Yao-Momo says with a smile before turning to Ochako. “And I didn’t even recognize you, Ochako. Wow!”

A blush creeps across her cheeks, breaking her sultry vibe somewhat. “I’m a vampire.”

“Damn!” Denki crows as he takes in her full frame. “Good choice.”

Mina slaps him on the arm, diverting his lingering gaze from Ochako’s assets. 

“Hey, angels shouldn’t hurt people!”

“You’re a zombie ,” she mutters, rolling her eyes at Denki’s shredded clothing and bloodied, pallor face.

This feeling. It’s familiar. It’s warm. It’s like Ochako’s been transported back to the good old days - which she feels ancient for even thinking - and is eighteen again. Her friend group comfortably falls back into the same natural existence and for a while, things are wonderful. 

The drinks flow effortlessly and soon the room is filled with other recognizable faces - other students from their year in the B and C hero courses, the business students and some of the support students. Ochako feels light, like the burdened weight of life has been lifted from her shoulders, as she glides around the room slightly drunk to talk to people. She couldn’t remember a time where she had been so animated and extroverted, nowadays preferring the weird sanctity of her tiny one-room and konbini food. She realizes that she has become some kind of hermit but, if anything, tonight is teaching her that work-life balance is a luxury that she sometimes needs to afford herself. 

Her mood continues for some time as the strings and percussion of the band continue to envelop everyone in a dramatic and luxurious embrace. Ochako glances up at the portraits swaying delicately above her and studies them through hazy eyes, determined to focus on the exquisite details of each brush stroke. She has half a mind to peel off her gloves and float herself up to the pieces of art to really devote time to them, but she must remember her decorum. She chuckles under her breath and lowers her chin as a sweet, operatic voice accompanies the music, then another suited, masked man guides her expertly by the hand to the sidelines as everyone makes way for a performance of a heavenly waltz. 

Tears well up in her eyes and she holds them back with delicate dabs of a gloved finger as the beautiful masked dancers twirl and step in perfect synchronization to the melody. She could have never even imagined anything so beautiful as she watches the women in sweeping black gowns being confidently led by the men in their crisp suits.

Ochako watches in awe as her mind kaleidoscopes the harsh truth of her real life. 

This is another world. The type of world that Ochako perhaps only belongs in for one night. Her heart drops and she wills herself to focus on every minute detail, only so she can remember it for the rest of her days. The bellowing music thuds in her chest as it swells and the couples move passionately and smoothly across the space. 

The dance performance is over too quickly. Ochako wants to see more, wants to feel her heart erupt in the same passion. She wants to live in this world but her mind cements her belief that this is no longer an option. It’s not possible, not now. Not anymore. She should have made a stronger impact in her younger days, when offers were more likely to pour in…

Now her tears fall, taking with them gentle traces of black eyeliner. The music fades to a close and the dancers bow to the thundering applause from the sidelines. Ochako hastily dabs at her face again and blows a shaky breath through puckered lips as she claps enthusiastically, forcing herself to live in the moment of this impressive evening.

Then, as the dancers dissipate, the crowd is motioned to stay put. 

A figure emerges atop the large staircase that links the hall with the upper floor of the library. 

Ochako’s heart beats out of rhythm as her eyes, along with everyone else’s, land on him. His mask is the most grand she has ever seen, venetian and decorated elegantly but muted in black to match the mysterious theme. The suit he’s wearing fits him better than anything has ever fit anyone, she thinks, even giving Yao-Momo a run for her (vast amounts of) money. The tailcoat of his dark jacket wafts behind him as he descends to the beat of the percussion.

***

It’s time for his grand entrance.

“Esteemed guests, please welcome your host… ”

He steps down each stair with a practiced poise, slowly, agonizingly so, to the wide eyes and gaping mouths of his audience. He smirks under the mask, his breath hot and echoing within it. 

It wasn’t something he’d at first been keen on even participating in, but after some deliberation he had convinced himself that this could be the something different that he’s searching for, because he is banking on one specific person to attend. 

His eyes scour the room as slowly as the steps he takes, descending closer and closer to the hall. His gaze drags along every person but he cannot seem to find her. 

Stopping short at the bottom step, just as they had practiced, he smoothly removes the mask from his face. 

“...Bakugou Katsuki.”

He hands the mask across to a staff member and takes the microphone adeptly as the orchestra can barely cover the gasps and murmurs emitting from the crowd. 

“Good evening.” Katsuki’s voice through the microphone is deep and husky and laced with a practiced tone that he’d been working on in preparation. He paces across to the stage, which is decorated in gold and framed by embroidered, black curtains, to join the musicians as they lower their intensity. “Welcome.”

A cascade of warm spotlight falls onto him as the candles dim around everyone else and he can no longer study the faces in the crowd for her. His teeth grit together in frustration and then he is sharply reminded of the fangs he is wearing as one threatens to puncture his bottom lip. 

“I’m sure you’re all surprised to see me. I sponsored tonight's celebration of our success as a school and for those who attended.” 

A wave of applause hammers across the audience and he holds up a hand in appreciation. He’s learned a lot from public relations training and gives himself a metaphorical pat on the back. The attention and utter shock from everyone fills him up, replenishing him. It restores him to know that all eyes are one-hundred percent on him. 

“Tonight is Halloween and so we will celebrate with this Dark Academia Ball.” He pulls out a cue card from his breast pocket before continuing. “Drinks are complimentary. Dinner will be served in the adjoining library in around thirty minutes. U.A. is in technology lockdown except for emergencies and so your cell phones will not work. Tonight is about being in the moment. This party is our one night to forget our troubles and reminisce.” 

He oozes out the last word with meaning, his voice sultry just as he’d rehearsed. The crowd cheers and erupts in applause again. He killed it. 

The symphony picks up once more and the orchestra builds to full volume as Katsuki bows to his audience and leaves the stage like the seasoned celebrity he is. 

Now it’s time to find her. She wouldn’t miss something like this. She is the type of person to romanticize and reminisce. 

His smirk drops as congregations circle around him curiously and excitedly.

“Dynamight!” 

Choruses of the lesser known students to him chatter and pester him for autographs. 

“Not tonight,” he growls.

At least he can relish in the fact that no one will be sneaking photographs of him, thanks to the set of support gear over the U.A. premises that will only allow emergency contact. He is immensely proud of getting that authorized because now it means he can focus.

Katsuki spots Kirishima waving to him in the knight costume he’d yapped on about on various text messages, and he makes his way over. He snakes through the crowds of curious glances and fleeting touches. 

Yes, it’s really me - he wants to yell.

“Dude!” 

Katsuki grins in response to Kirishima. “Enjoying the party?”

“I must say,” Yao-Momo sighs, sending him a classy smile. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

He and the creation girl sometimes overlap in social circles whenever he has the time and patience to be actively involved and sociable. He nods to her respectfully. 

“Of course.” He glances at the small circle of his former classmates. “You think I’d scrimp on anything?!”

His gaze drags across the group of faces to see them in more detail.  

Where the hell is she?!

An angel next to him clicks her tongue - oh yeah, the alien - he couldn't forget her because she was one of the only people Kirishima ever talked about. 

“Nice of you to actually remember us,” she jibes.

An alien with words of acid. He remembers her - fondly - and sneers at her.

“I don’t see everyone here,” he says, avoiding outrightly name-dropping the girl he’s searching for. “And I doubt they’ve got anything better than this going on.”

“The rest of our class aren’t in Japan right now,” Jiro adds, donned in a witch’s hat and cape. Earphone Jack - Katsuki has worked with her and her agency during a few battles. Admittedly, Katsuki respects her and her skill. “International training or personal stuff.”

“Yeah. Just us, I’m afraid!” Mina retorts with narrowed eyes as she gestures to the group. Katsuki meets her gaze with his own. “We not good enough for ya?”

So, maybe he’s wrong. Maybe she isn’t here. That isn’t something he likes to think about. He always gets what he wants and he wants her to be here.

His face drops a fraction as he grabs his own glass of champagne with practiced precision from a nearby waiter holding a tray.

“Cool costume, bro,” the electric idiot chimes in as he attempts to nudge Katsuki, who flinches away in time to avoid getting faux blood and muck over his precious suit jacket. “A vampire, huh?”

“No,” Katsuki drawls, baring his fangs sarcastically. “I’m a fucking priest. What does it look like, dumbass?”

Katsuki studies those in his circle and their costumes. Hanta has attended, predictably, as a mummy. 

Then, suddenly, a surprising, shadowy frame rushes over to the group with a fresh glass of red wine in her hand. 

“Guys-” she says breathlessly as the liquid sloshes dangerously in her grip.

“-Oh and you remember Ochako, don’t you?” Mina says with a smirk, interrupting the new arrival. 

This, he was not expecting.

“Uraraka?” His voice was almost as disbelieving as his facial expression at the impossibly sexy woman standing in front of him, slightly breathless with her chest heaving rhythmically. It’s as if she’s emerged from some dark fantasy in the depths of his mind and it takes Katsuki all of his strength to keep his composure.

There’s something about desiring sweet, sweet revenge that had forced Ochako into Katsuki’s fantasies a long time ago. If he lingers on the memory of that fight - in which he lost to her because, in his defense, he had been badly injured previously - he branches off and creates an alternate ending in which she eventually submits to him . 

He had always thought of her as cute by default, but with an edge that makes his pulse race if he allows himself to focus on it for too long.  He’s lost count at how often he’s sought her out, tried to pull her in, and finally get what he wants, but she appears immune to his methods. 

And here she is, predictable in the sense that he knew she would attend his event, but looking so unpredictably alluring that she is igniting the fire in the pit of his stomach as if inviting him to a challenge. His tongue laps quickly across his lips as he finally pulls his gaze away from her figure and sips at his drink as if bored by her presence.

At the mention of her name, she shoves her free hand on her hip, searching to lock her dark eyes with his own, which he denies her, and she bares her own set of fangs through a sneer. Her midnight hair curls around her shoulders and chest and he can’t help as his eyes dart to the ruby red target in the middle of her cleavage for a split second, truly wanting to linger there for much longer.

“Yeah, hello, Bakugou.” He isn’t enjoying the way she’s saying his name. He wants to hear her hungry for it. Like how he’s imagined it. “Thanks for inviting us to another showcase for people to kiss your ass.”

Her voice is biting and Katsuki finds himself scowling down at her, the scar tissue around his eye pulling a little more taut. 

“That’s not what this is,” he replies tightly as he turns a shoulder away from her. “And you’re welcome. ”

***

Ochako huffs, swallowing down a vicious retort as she swivels away further from pretentious Bakugou, rolling her eyes and sipping the moreish red nectar instead. She’s feeling giddy and charged. This can’t be good. Any more fuel in her fire means her verbal control will be completely thrown out of the window.

“Hey, I just realized, you’re both dressed as vampires!” Kirishima chimes with a laugh as Ochako cuts him a look. 

“Maybe they planned it,” Sero teases, as the group eye up the simultaneously furious and offended pair.

“No,” they both growl in unison and their glares lock venomously for a moment.

“Chacks only bought hers today,” Mina blurts and sends her an apologetic look.

“I got mine tailor-made and I’ve had it for weeks,” Bakugou gruffs self-righteously. Of course he did.

“Oh, who was your designer?” Yao-Momo inquires, segmenting some of the tension. 

Ochako’s air of grace is also beginning to wane as her motor skills drunkenly continue to decline, much like her mental control, and after thanking Yao-Momo silently for the diversion, she clomps away in her boots to another circle of semi-familiar faces from class B. 

The eyes of Bakugou burn into her back and she knows he is sending daggers but she has stopped caring. She’s seen enough of him already today, even before arriving at this ridiculous event - which itself has been masquerading as a reunion, but is actually a chance for Bakugou to sit atop his arrogant throne while expecting everyone to fall at his feet.

Not Ochako, though. She isn’t interested or impressed by him - not anymore. The only way she is keeping any semblance of respect for him is merely for old times’ sake. 

She mingles in with the friendly faces of the former residents of class B for some time, sidling up to Kendo who has dressed herself as one of the many black cats in the room, and Tetsutetsu  who arrives into the circle wearing the garb of some kind of peasant.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Ochako slurs slightly, poking a gloved finger to the bulky chest of Tetsutetsu.

With a smile, he takes her hand and swivels to show her the bow and arrow quiver on his back. 

“I am Robin Hood , m’lady.”

So it isn’t only Kirishima who’s getting into character. These two are so alike it’s unreal, she thinks.

“Ooh, scary !” she giggles. “Well, I know someone rich and obnoxious you can steal from.” Ochako thumbs and eyeballs across to Bakugou pettily as he remains intermingled with her old classmates. 

“Do I sense bitterness between the former perfect bond of Class A?” The snarky voice of Monoma dances into her ear.

Ochako huffs before cutting a look to Monoma. “Nevermind, I see you’ve already got someone rich and obnoxious right here.”

The offended blond leers caustically in return but she is luckily saved from any more unpleasant conversation by the announcement of dinner in the library. Mina is quickly at her side, linking their arms as they head towards the adjoining doors between the hall and the dinner setting, and leans across until their heads almost bonk together.

“I know he’s really fucking annoying -” Mina starts.

Ochako blurts sarcastically in interruption- “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Her angelic friend nudges her gently as they continue to walk across the vast ballroom floor before continuing, “-Bakugou’s always been a pain in the ass but let's just try and be civil, for old times’ sake, just for tonight.”

She knows Mina’s right, but Bakugou absolutely grates her and she knows he knows it too. Once he gets an inch he will take a mile. Once he knows he pisses her off, he will seek her out to do it more. 

It’s only for one night and then she can leave this world behind - this beautiful but tainted world of wealth and arrogance. She realizes that, maybe, this is why she cannot be a part of it for longer than tonight - Ochako likes justice and fairness, and wealth rarely goes hand in hand with these concepts. Even Yao-Momo has benefited from nepotism and cannot help her sometimes out-of-touch ways. Ochako has noticed the enormous ravine of their lifestyle differences many times over the years.

Now, finally making it into the dining area of which the elegant and dark theme continues, Mina and Ochako are guided to their tables. Their separate tables.

“Ms Uraraka, you are seated here at table one .”

The waitress, donned in her uniform and mask, stretches out a guided hand like an illuminated pathway to the table at the center of the room. It’s the smallest table by far, seating only four people, and is decorated with a centerpiece that feels too big and elaborate even compared to all of the extravagant things she has seen thus far.

And she doesn’t know why she deserves the torture that she seems to be enduring… but now she’s sitting opposite Bakugou and it’s too close for comfort.

With her are Kirishima, who sits next to her, and Yao-Momo who is sitting opposite them and to Bakugou’s left. A bizarre configuration, possibly random, but most likely planned.

Ochako holds the stem of her wine glass as a little deliciousness is poured with precision, and her eyes remain locked on the liquid as it fills up to a very modest level. 

“What a beautiful space,” Ochako coos, glancing around and ignoring Bakugou’s burning stare through the twisted branches of the eerie decoration that is thankfully blocking a lot of his frame from her view. She downs the wine and plonks the glass back on the table as carefully as she can manage. “And this wine! Wow! How about another glass? Don’t skimp on us, Bakugou!”

His name drops from her lips in an overly, fake, friendly tone and her eyes blink heavily across the table to him. His annoying smirk is plastered on his face, and he swirls the wine around before taking a sip and swishing it in his mouth. He quickly spits it back inside the awaiting glass and hands it off to the staff.

Yao-Momo also hands back her glass, untouched, and stares up at the waitstaff. “No, thank you, I’d like something else. Do you have anything from Burgundy? Perhaps Domaine de la Romanée-Conti ?”

Bakugou speaks through a smug smirk at Ochako. “That wine is just for tasting . Not for shoving down your throat in one shot.”

***

The thought of shoving things down her throat hitches a breath in Katsuki’s lungs and he quickly diverts to focusing on choosing a better wine. Although, Ochako seems content with the cheapest and most easily accessible of the catalog.

“Oh,” she says with a pout as the blush across her cheeks actually tells all.

Kirishima nudges her with a metallic clunk of his armor. “Don’t worry, Chacks. I know nothing about wine!”

“If you don’t mind, we will select the wine,” Yao-Momo says with sincerity and she requests a certain bottle from Katsuki who obliges and gives the order to the waitstaff. There are only a select few bottles available, so he’d wanted Yao-Momo to be at his table - someone who appreciates the finer things - and also Kirishima who brings with him many years of loyal friendship.

Ochako…well, she’s here for him . He finds it so very amusing to sit across from the woman who had bested him that one time, who confronted him and cut him off, and yet now squirms in his presence. 

“We have six courses,” he murmurs, glancing over his menu at Ochako who is studying her own with concentration. “Choose one option for each.” 

He nudges her boot under the table and she glares at him. The desired reaction . He grins.

“I know how a menu works, thank you .”

“ You’re welcome, ” he retorts cockily, running his tongue across his teeth as he maintains her eye contact. 

She sighs and tenses before pulling her gaze down to her menu again. He’s getting under her skin and he is loving it.

***

Ochako almost burns a hole through the laminated menu from focusing so hard on the six courses. Six?!

What else is there aside from appetizers, main courses, and desserts?

According to this, she has to pick hors d'oeuvre, soup, appetizer, salad, main course, and dessert.

It all sounds wonderful, but she’s having a difficult time choosing because of Bakugou’s constant glances at her from the other side of the table. She is fighting her instinct to simply get up, give him a piece of her mind and storm out of this stupid function…but she is aware of everyone else in the room and she wants to leave without any gossip following behind her. 

After an agonizing deliberation, she finally makes her choices and Bakugou raises his glass of the newly chosen wine to the middle of the table as the ostentatious decor is removed from between them - Ochako wonders if this is his decision or it is simply the way fine dining works. 

Politely, she takes a deep breath and raises her glass to meet with the other guests at their intimate table. Their drinks hover, waiting for Bakugou’s toast.

“To memories, and…” His eyes lock with hers. “...to reminiscing .”

The clink of their glasses sends a little shockwave down Ochako’s arm and she takes a drink, swallowing it down deliciously. It is rich yet sweet and she knows nothing about wine but she swears she can taste how expensive it is - and God it is a thousand times better than the tasting wine from earlier.

The hors d'oeuvres are brought out to the tables not long after, and the gougères she had ordered melt in her mouth delightfully, pairing beautifully with the wine - as far as she’s concerned, anyway.

“So, what’s going on with your agency tonight?” Kirishima asks Bakugou, who quickly shakes his head.

“No shop talk.”

“Right…well, how about things with…um… what was her name again ?” Kirishima scratches his head with a glove-less hand - his helmet discarded on the floor under the table. 

Bakugou opens his mouth to reply but Yao-Momo stops him with a waving hand, cringing as she speaks. “Oh please, Bakugou, we don’t want to hear about your latest escapades.”

Ochako is also no stranger to the many stories of Bakugou’s flings. He’s had his fair share of tabloids and salacious rumors and she scoffs to herself as the conversation steers.

“What?” he quizzes her with scowling eyes.

“I’m just agreeing with Yao-Momo,” she retorts, her filter failing her. “I don’t want to hear about all the women you’re fucking.”

The table falls deafeningly quiet for a beat.

“Why not?” Bakugou leans across the table towards Ochako, his broad frame much bigger than she remembers. “ Jealous ?”

His smirk is feral and she swears she is one more snarky comment away from slapping it off his smug mouth. Her fists ball tightly and she grits her teeth.

“O-okay,” Kirishima laughs lightly, inching across to try and diffuse things. “Come on guys, let’s just enjoy the food, yeah?”

“With pleasure,” Ochako mutters tightly and yanks her attention to her plate. “Anything to avoid listening to Bakugou talking about himself.”

It’s one more sly little comment, one more point before the game clock stops, and she feels Bakugou twitch in annoyance opposite her. 

Has he forgotten that she can give as good as she gets? 

The announcement of the dinner show beginning allows Ochako to win the round this time and she sends Bakugou a cocky look through her lashes as he stews in his seat, before quickly turning her attention to the performance. She inwardly apologizes to Mina for being unable to act civilly.

A series of masked aerial artists steal the attention of everyone and Ochako sways in her seat giddily while leaning her arm on the table. The acrobats slink between the guests, bendy and thin in dark metallic leotards decorated with skeletal bone patterns, and contort and leap in impressive shapes as a magician begins to woo the crowd with his illusions. It’s eerie magic with plumes of black smoky clouds and faux blood. Grotesque and slightly gory but not enough to be put off the exquisite meal. Ochako has a fairly strong stomach - you had to, to be a rescue hero. 

By the time the show has ended, they are almost finished with the salad dish and Ochako is wondering if she will be able to get through two more courses. She’d already scarfed down the French cheese pastries, steak tartare, and onion soup with freshly baked breads, now she faces the remnants of her salade Lyonnaise . There’s no denying it’s delicious, sublime even, but she is tightly bound in her corset and that is making life very difficult. 

“Will there be an intermission?” Yao-Momo asks casually as she forks some salad leaves from her plate into her mouth with an air of class that just comes naturally to her.

“Before the next course,” Bakugou confirms. 

“Good, I need a break,” Kirishima huffs with a laugh, patting his armor-clad stomach. “I want to enjoy the main and dessert properly.”

“It’s okay, we have a second stomach for dessert.” Ochako joins Kirishima’s laughter, ignoring the vibe emitting from Bakugou opposite her. “And that show was so fun!”

“It was wonderful,” Yao-Momo coos. “Very on theme.”

“Damn right,” Kirishima agrees. “Those acrobats were crazy.”

Ochako had truly enjoyed the show, albeit she had been slightly perturbed by Bakugou’s persistent sneaking looks. She felt him eying her during the show on multiple occasions and she’s staying strong to not retaliate. The ball is currently in her court and she wants to keep it that way.

He gets up suddenly, grabbing his glass to tink his spoon repeatedly against it, and garners everyone’s attention quickly. It shushes to silence around them within seconds and he cranes around to address his awaiting audience. 

Ochako watches him as he looms over their table, his jacket discarded across the back of his chair and his white shirt clinging to him in all the right places - she shakes her head and finds sanctuary in her drink again. 

“A round of applause again for the Le Cirque du Diable all the way from Paris, providing us with our dinner entertainment.” He pauses professionally and the room lights up with acclamation. Ochako is begrudgingly impressed by his French pronunciation - it sounds very natural…and sexy. No. She scowls at herself. “And now, please finish your salads, and we will take an intermission for twenty minutes.”

As short and simple as his speech is, Ochako hates to admit that he handles the public speaking parts of his career with extreme seriousness. She knows he’s been training for these things but the proof is in the pudding and she is annoyingly enjoying the sweet taste of it. Her face sours at the realization and Bakugou catches it before she can wipe it from her expression.

“Did you want to add something?” he mutters to her coldly, before finishing the wine from his glass.

“No.” She pushes her plate away from her an inch and gets up. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Bakugou remains standing after giving his address to the room while Ochako leaves through the nearby doors. She is granted her escape not by a staff member, but through her own force as the suited guards make no attempt to stop her. 

***

Katsuki twists to watch Ochako stride aggressively from the library, nodding stealthily to his staff to let her pass. He wants to follow her but there’s no way he can get away from this crowd through the doors so simply. He’s already being approached by those wanting to ignite a conversation with him. 

He walks as a broad unit away from their table, leaving Yao-Momo to the aid of Kirishima and Jiro who help her stand in her fragile elven costume, and heads for the stairs to the second floor. People jostle him and hammer him with compliments and questions, to which he regretfully ignores and waves off. Katsuki instructs his staff to deny anyone else entry as he ascends to the library balcony that overlooks the gardens of the academy. 

Once outside, the cool breeze bites at his face and he blasts down to the gardens with one swift explosion, landing deftly on the lawn, and sighs tiredly at having to use his quirk on a night he wants to rest. He straightens up, rolling his neck and shoulders, before pivoting to find the place he is sure he will find her. 

He skulks into the flower garden, which is illuminated by the decorative fairy lights hanging over the shelter, and sees Ochako perched on the bench. She is always so predictable.

“Knew I’d find you here - you never learn.”

She startles at his voice, greeting him with a scowl once she recognises him approaching.

“What the fuck do you want?” she mutters, turning away to look at the flowers surrounding her instead.

“Come on, angel face ,” he purrs, leaning against the structure with folded arms. “What’s with the harsh words?”

He just cannot help his lips from contorting into a smirk and she bristles, biting back, “ I have a name…. and you know why.”

Stepping closer slowly, he reaches a palm up to the roof edge of the shelter which accentuates the thickness of his arm, and he notices the split-second dart of her eyes at his stance. 

“Let’s talk about all the good times .” His voice drops low and teasing as he angles his face closer to her.

“Then we won’t be here for very long,” she replies tightly, standing to glare up at him. “Please move.”

“Well,” Katsuki’s voice blows warm against the cold air as he pushes further into Ochako’s personal space. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He steps aside and she hesitates. He wonders if she’s going to retort but instead she scoffs out a laugh and pushes past, nudging her shoulder against him. He turns on his heel and grabs out to her, gripping her wrist. 

“Is this seriously all you’re gonna give me?”

Ochako shakes herself free with a growl. “What do you want? For me to fall at your feet? I’m not one of your desperate groupies. I thought you’d have realized that by now. I guess you’re the one who never learns!”

“I want a rematch!” he blurts out randomly and that is shockingly enough to stop her from leaving. She’s looking at him incredulously, like he’s just grown a second head. 

“Oh, I finally get it now.” Her face softens in realization. “You can’t stand that someone like me actually beat you, the amazing Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. And now you wanna get payback after, what, like ten years?!” She scoffs. “Get over yourself.”

His full hero name strains from her throat in a snarl and Katsuki strides to close the small gap between them, millimeters from actually pressing against her. 

“You’ve been riding my coattails since that win,” he sneers. “Do you know what it’s like to have people still reminding me of that blip on my perfect record?”

He watches as her mouth falls slack atrociously, in disbelief, and she waves her hands angrily as she responds with sarcastic venom. “Poor, poor, Bakugou Katsuki. It must be so hard for you in your golden mansion. I get it… yeah, I have that problem too. I have had so many opportunities thanks to kicking your ass ten years ago, I just don’t know what to do with all my money!”

“Why do you keep denying me?!” he all but yells, his voice grizzled and rough, before his tone lowers intimately again. “I can give you everything. I’m number one. ”

He is positive that he has never wanted anything or anyone more than the woman standing in front of him. He’d propositioned her many times over the years and each time she’d refused and yet… he cannot stay away. He cannot, will not , let her fade away into the depressing nothingness. He can’t continue any longer with everyone thinking that a nobody had once beaten him. He needs to show everyone just who she really is.

“Make up your mind! Are you trying to fight me or trying to help me?” Suddenly she grabs onto him, her fist balling tightly around his tie, and she inches up onto her tiptoes. Her face sours and her words spit like a cornered cobra. “‘Cause I’m not giving you a chance for either.”

“You’re seriously saying no to me?” Katsuki’s getting fired up. His mouth stretches into a cocky grimace; what he won’t give to get payback. 

She pushes him loose but he stays unmoving, thankful she is wearing gloves so as to not float him off to the heavens, yet wanting to rip the stupid blockades from her fingers to ignite her full capabilities. 

Her tone does not change from the scornful one she’s been lacing her words with. “ Fuck off. ”

Katsuki knows she doesn’t get a chance to fight much these days. He’s noticed her desperately watching his battles, clearing up the mess of others’ epic fights and simply waiting while other heroes get their chance to shine at the scene of a crime.

“When was the last time you had a real fight?” he asks, his voice dangling between them like a sweet, irresistible lure. “I can give you that. You remember what our sparring sessions and battles were like. I know you haven’t forgotten.”

He’s so certain he has her in his trap, the little fish eyeing the squirming meal at the end of the innocent hook, and they stand in a cold silence for a few moments. Their breathing plumes small puffs of steam against the cool, evening air. But her answer catches him off guard.

“No.”

***

That declination takes the last ounce of fortitude Ochako has left against Bakugou’s incessant goading. 

She has, of course, been in combat training since leaving U.A. but his real-world experience completely tops her controlled sparring in a gym. She doesn’t stand a chance against him now and she also doesn’t want to give him any more satisfaction - his head is already close to exploding with the size of his ego. 

The space between them is almost non-existent and yet she struggles to take a step back to reclaim her boundary. His eyes drag along her face, searching her, before dipping down to her heaving chest. She cannot even feel the cold for the heat radiating from him, and the spiced scent of his cologne is rich against her senses as she tries to collect her scrambled, frustrated thoughts.

“I don’t believe you.” His voice drops to a whisper, husky against the tense atmosphere. “You can be so much more, Ochako.”

Her mind swims dizzily. Bakugou is intensely close, with his eyes burning into hers, and his scarlet irises are even more prominent doused with a frame of dark liner. She struggles to hold her ground and falters, taking a staggered step backward. 

With a swift reflex, Bakugou’s arm snakes around her waist and catches her imbalance, and he pulls her roughly toward him so they collide in a rapid reunion. Neither of their brains can fire up the tense, emotional electrical pulses quick enough, and so for a brief moment they are tangled in an intimate embrace.

Coming round from her lagging, clouded outlook, Ochako’s brows drop to a frown and she pushes against the solid mass of Bakugou’s pecs. He moves back on his own volition, not because of her strength, and unfurls his arm from supporting her. 

“I don’t need your help. I’m fine. ”

Bakugou folds his arms and Ochako’s eyes trace the tight cotton trapping his muscular limbs. Her voice is weak and she knows she isn’t fooling him.

“If that’s what you tell yourself,” he says tightly. “But I know you want more. I’ve seen your face when you’re called in for the clean-up - it says it all.”

“You don’t know anything,” she whispers, tracing her line of sight to the ground as her emotions now decide it’s a perfect time to break. She pulls herself together quickly to continue without a wobble in her voice. “Just leave me alone.”

“ I don’t want to, ” he growls.

She sighs in exasperation. “I cut you off, don’t you understand what that means?!”

“It means I have to pull a stunt like this to get you to even talk to me!”

Ochako scoffs incredulously. “I’m sure everyone would love to hear your insane conspiracy - sponsoring this whole evening so you can talk to little old me. I’m so privileged .”

His top lip curls up as he speaks, “We don’t have to just talk. We can fight right here, right now. Let them all watch. I don’t fucking care!”

A loud, disbelieving laugh breaks from Ochako before she can stop it. “You really are something else!”

“Yes, I really am,” he says smugly with the most punchable face that Ochako has ever witnessed. 

“I’ll tell you what you are, Bakugou…” She steps closer and jabs a strong finger to his chest. “You’re the most arrogant…” Jab. “Self-righteous…” Jab. “Smug excuse for a hero I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

She predicts that Bakugou’s face will erupt with murderous intent, thunderous, but instead he just glares at her and she notices the flex of his jaw as he chews on his words. Her fingertip lingers, pushed into the bulk of his frame, and soon his large hand is gripping around hers in its entirety, swallowing her whole fist easily in his palm. He holds her there in silence as their eyes remain locked in another fiery stalemate.

“No words from the king of explosions?!” she snarls. She knows she’s pushing her luck while pushing his buttons at the same time. The alcohol blurs her inhibitions and filters. He is stewing. She feels his clammy skin even through the satin material of her glove. “This must be a first!”

“Don’t,” he warns as he drops his hold on her. Her hand falls limply to her side. 

“Truth hitting hard, is it?”

She hasn’t broken eye contact and he is a professional in standing his ground but Ochako knows how to make him tick. She’s pushed him before but this is dangerously close to reaching his peak.

“You don’t impress me,” she bites for the final blow. “ I beat you . I declined you . So, here I am - the girl you failed to impress! What now, hm ?!”

For a millisecond, Bakugou stiffens - she thinks he is fighting with himself - and ultimately his worn down patience wins, pushing him off the precipice. With a snarl he looms over her as his face jolts to level with hers. 

In this moment she understands why he is feared by his enemies. 

“You’re a washed up, pathetic waste of a hero.” He looks her up and down with malice and she can’t help the shudder of her body under his gaze. “The only way you beat me was with pure luck. Don’t for a second ever think you can come close to me.”

Ochako’s shield of booze enables her to remain steadfast under his targeted leer for longer than she would have probably lasted normally.

“I don’t want to be close to you.”

***

Katsuki feels himself falter as his expression slips at Ochako’s words and, just as he is about to retaliate, a bell chimes in the distance indicating the end of the intermission. He’d forgotten they were even in the middle of a meal.  

Before he can stride away from the vertex of their altercations, which have been aggressively simmering between them long before tonight, she beats him to it and storms off towards the building without a second glance. 

He makes it back into the dining area just as the main course is being served, and suddenly he no longer feels hungry. Ochako is already seated and chatting with the other two guests at his table as he takes his place in silence.

“Hey, man,” Kirishima grins. “This food is insane!”

Katsuki isn’t a stranger to this type of cuisine but he decides to humor his friend and agrees with his enthusiasm. It’s time for Katsuki to put his years of public relations training into practice in order to deal with Ochako for the rest of the night. 

At this moment he wishes that public opinion didn’t hold such a huge stake over his career. His staff are all around the function and he would be a fool to blow up emotionally in front of a room full of people. 

Yes, his reputation is that he is somewhat of a short-fuse, but his team will reprimand him if they have to do mitigation because of him arguing with another pro-hero - especially someone like Uravity, a rescue hero and his fellow alumni - at an event that he had decided to sponsor. He will one-hundred-percent be perceived as the villain in that scenario.

He suppresses a shudder of cringe as he recalls his words - telling her to fight him one more time, right there and then. He couldn’t do that without causing some severe backlash. He doesn’t want to think about the rumors or the damage control he’d have had to have done if a fight between them had actually broken out. 

Despite giving her a piece of his mind out in the gardens, he now sits regretfully with his words said in the heat of the moment, the ones he had spat vehemently at her as she’d pushed and pushed and pushed him past the point that he could control. 

“What do you think?” Kirishima asks Yao-Momo as she chews delicately and Katsuki returns to the present conversation again.

She nods lightly and a small smile plays on her face before she hovers a gracious hand to cover her mouth. Katsuki knows that means it’s perfect. Yao-Momo’s is, understandably, an opinion he trusts with this kind of thing. 

“It really is delicious,” Ochako suddenly says brightly and Katsuki wonders if she’s received PR training at the same place he does, because she’s convincingly upbeat. Her eyes meet his and he returns a flat smile before continuing his meal without gracing her with any other response, which is as difficult as trying to douse a fire with damp paper towels given his current agitation - but he manages, expertly.

The main course passes by in a tense slog and Katsuki pushes every bubbling emotion down for the time being, willing for dessert to be over too so they can finish with the final part of the night and he can end the event. 

He loathes to admit failure but it appears that Ochako is so content at being average for the rest of her life, that he can’t get through her thick skull even by going to all of this effort and pushing her to reignite her fire for battle. He isn’t sure how else to navigate the situation and he can’t stand being told ‘no’ by her any more. 

If she wants to continue on her current track of mediocrity, then so be it. He has plenty of other, more important, things to focus on, and when dessert arrives - chocolate soufflé - Katsuki pushes a morsel of it around with his spoon before suddenly excusing himself. 

“I have to deal with something,” he murmurs to his table, feeling Ochako’s curious eyes studying him. He refuses her eye contact. 

His seat almost topples backward as he pushes away from the table but he catches it deftly and exits stealthily through the same doors that Ochako had made her way through in the previous intermission. The doors lead to the darkened corridors of the academy and he paces towards their old classroom, tracing a rough hand across the wall and fighting the frustrated temptation to blast a fist-sized hole right through it.

Once he reaches the threshold of their old classroom, he hesitates, something nagging him in the pit of his stomach. He pushes through and flicks on the light switch, scoping out the room carefully… but it’s empty. 

He heads to his desk, reunited after roughly a decade. The place hasn’t changed much. He scrapes the chair across the floor and sits heavily. His adult, muscular body now overcrowding where he had previously been growing into the hero he is today. 

With a glance over to Ochako’s desk, he wonders if what he remembers is still there. Surely the desks would have been upgraded, although they look the same way he recalls them. He gets up and paces over, crouching to peer underneath and is met with the familiar scratchings of their expressive teenage years now blended with the expressions of the years since.

He can’t help the smile that pulls on his lips as his fingers trace the secret scratching, faded and almost lost amongst the busy maze of extra markings:

BK - II

UO - I

She had kept a tally of the times they had faced each other in an official one-on-one match. It had only been three times in their entire school year. The other times they faced each other were in team battles or sparring sessions. 

Battling each other only thrice seems like such a tiny percentage of their lifetime now but facing her in those three heated duels had been part of Katsuki’s highlights when attending U.A.

She had - has - a quirk that is a force to be reckoned with, but she has repeatedly refused his harsh advice on acting against the rules her rescue agency follows. His aim? To push her to use her quirk to fight, not only to clean up the messes left behind. 

He’s extended multiple invitations her way to join his agency, if only just to try and work their quirks in combination - to allow her to push past the parameter that she is permitted, to use her quirk as a battle power. 

In their younger years he’d had many thoughts about their quirk combination - thoughts of him traveling weightlessly and rapidly through the air and her returning his gravity so he can rain down over their enemies even more powerfully - but now, with their skills being developed at such vastly different levels, he isn’t sure they could work it out.

Instead, he has to face the regular mocking from peers and enemies alike who enjoy goading him with the fact that his only official loss was to Uravity. 

What he wants is to show everyone the real reason he lost - because she isn’t just some frail, weak girl.

Somehow, being back in the classroom sparks Katsuki with a feeling of renewed determination and he tucks in his chair before making his leave, flicking the lights off and exiting into the darkness.

He halts in the hallway as the same feeling screams in his gut and he pivots quickly as he notices a shadowy figure up ahead. The muscles around his eyes tense as he struggles to focus on the form standing in the dim lighting at the end of the corridor. It moves closer to him and he instinctively switches to a guarded stance, readying his palms just in case. 

Then a voice comes from the darkness. “There you are…”

***

After Bakugou leaves the dining table suddenly, Ochako feels her stomach drop. She’s muddled and she doesn’t know if she’s supposed to feel furious or sorry for him after their earlier clash. 

Her chocolate dessert doesn’t seem very appealing anymore and she too pokes at it with her spoon. This is very unusual behavior because if she could only ever choose one course, it would always be dessert. 

Kirishima and Yao-Momo do not seem at all concerned by Bakugou’s absence, but they have no idea about their earlier altercation, and so it appears that he truly is dealing with something important - often the case for the number one hero, she assumes. She wonders what exactly he rushed away for.  

As she thinks about where Bakugou could be, the pendant atop her chest abruptly burns warm against her skin. She plucks at it with her satin-gloved fingers and adjusts it uncomfortably as a squeamish feeling takes over her body and she feels the color drain from her face. She shouldn’t have drank so much. All the booze sitting in her stomach, along with the decadent food, seems like it wants to make a swift return to the table.

“Excuse me,” she mumbles, as she thinks of the correct manner in which to announce her departure. “I need to use the ladies room.”

Without waiting for permission - or however it might work in fine dining - she scrambles across to the nearest doors which lead into the dark corridor of the school’s main building. Eyes are on her as she rushes noisily out of the room. So much for no gossip following her, especially considering that Bakugou is also no longer seated at their table either. 

At the very least she’ll be remembered for being a drunken mess.

She navigates to the toilets with ease, suddenly remembering the layout of the school as if she hasn’t been away from it for approximately ten years, and she lurches into a stall, slamming the door closed roughly. 

She doesn't feel nauseous anymore but she does feel strange , and she sits down on the closed toilet seat heavily with her head in her hands. The locket burns against her skin and with a painful hiss she fumbles to remove it, only to find the clasp has disappeared from the chain. She scrambles to twist it around her neck, dropping her chin and gaze down to her chest so she can truly believe it. 

She opens the pendant roughly, proving slightly more difficult with her gloves on, and relief from the heat is brought with its opening. The photos inside glow with an intense red light and the room swims around Ochako as chanting words echo in her mind:

“That which your heart most desires,

That which you crave,

Time is of the essence,

Until the stroke of midnight can you claim.

When the night ends,

Your connection remains,

Reach into your soul,

And seek what always should have been.

Seal your fate within,

With the blood of your love,

And with him you will unite.”

The locket glows intensely and burns hotter as she tumbles forward breathlessly, catching herself on the door of the narrow stall, before succumbing to the dizzying feeling taking over her…

Ochako finally makes a reappearance to dinner after a good ten minutes, striding along the library floor confidently with her eyes targeting her awaiting table as she moves.

“Welcome back,” Kirishima says warmly, pulling his bottom lip in-between his teeth as he watches her sit down with poise. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, are you alright?” Yao-Momo asks breathily, leaning across the table and placing her hand over Ochako’s own for a brief moment.

“Of course,” she replies, her voice low and silky. “I’m feeling just wonderful.”

There’s a moment of relieving silence before Ochako looks about the space with intention. “Where is he?” she asks no-one in particular as her hand waves across to the empty seat opposite her.

“He’s still dealing with something important,” Yao-Momo replies.

Ochako picks up her wine glass and purses her lips slowly across the rim to take a small sip. “My evening isn’t going to be much fun without him.”

The confused pair next to her are hypnotized for a brief moment until Kirishima clears his throat and brings them snapping back to the present.

“I didn’t think you guys were friends,” he laughs quietly. 

Yao-Momo sighs and finishes her drink smoothly. “I’m assuming Ochako’s being facetious.”

A creeping grin crawls across Ochako’s face but she doesn't say another word. Casually she turns to her now sad-looking souffle that remains on the table. “I’m sorry, I can’t eat this.”

“Are you feeling sick?” Kirishima asks concerningly.

Ochako twists to look through her lashes at him, letting a wide, closed smile grace her wine-stained lips. 

“Quite the opposite, but I’m on a special diet. So, I’ll pass on the sugar, if you don’t mind. Although …” she glances at the doors. “I might have to go and find something to satisfy my craving.”

***

Katsuki shakes his head slightly at the realization at who the owner of the voice is and the figure standing in the darkness begins to move. Her skirt billows as she advances and the red stone in her locket glows brighter with each step.

“Ochako?” he questions breathily, before composing himself again and tightening up his response as he shifts to relax his defensive posture. “What do you want?”

Too quickly, she is crowding his personal space. 

This is unexpected. 

He steps back, frowning. “Hey…”

Her hand is on him before the word fully escapes his mouth, her satin palm against his chest as his heart thuds heavily in his ribcage, and he can’t control his gaze following where her touch is lingering. Her breathing is raspy, as if she’s been jogging, and he wonders if she can feel his heartbeat quickening. He closes his eyes to slow himself but, as if sensing it, Ochako digs her nails into him. It doesn’t hurt thanks to the layers of material between them, but he is stunned by the sensation.

“What’s up with you?” he growls as he stares down at her, holding her wrist and regrettably becoming a stranger to her touch again by removing her hand from him. He folds his arms across his chest as if to protect himself from exposing his racing heart.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Katsuki has never heard Ochako’s voice sound so… sensual. The words drip like honey from her lips and he chews his tongue in an attempt to keep control. It’s not breaking news to him that he finds her attractive - anyone would be stupid not to find her so. Even with her dressed up like she’s going to drag him away to some kind of vampiric dungeon, he finds her roleplaying insanely tempting to indulge in. 

He studies her in the low light, the scarlet of her locket casting a small glow along her face, and can just about make out the details of her. She’s grinning, baring the fangs of her costume, and he’s wondering what the fuck has happened during dessert in his absence.

He has constantly flitted between relishing and hating the tension that’s built up between them over the years. During their school time she’d spent most of it sidling up to Deku and, in his disdain, Katsuki didn’t allow himself to associate with her much because of it. 

Things are different and good now - with Deku anyway, who spends a lot of his time in the U.S with Melissa. Yet, when it comes to Ochako, it always seems to yoyo and sway over delicate ground. 

It has been over ten years since she had ignited something within him during their clash at the first ever sports festival - when he was close to losing against her astute plan to rain meteors down onto him - and he has been pining for that feeling with her ever since. The twitch in his wrist pulses in a bittersweet reminder - when she’d pushed him to use almost his full power to win, and when he understood she could very well be on his level. 

But her pride since graduation has gotten in the way of them ever working together properly. He was never sure on how to navigate the situation with her, and he still isn’t . 

Over time it’s only gotten easier to get what he wants. He can use money, or often just his presence, to get the result he desires. They’re the only tried and tested methods he knows to be successful - except with Ochako.

He’s invited her to his agency countlessly, and she’d met with him once or twice, but their meetings always ended up with her declining his offer to work. She exclaimed she was happy where she was and content to expand on her skills as a rescue hero. 

Katsuki has never believed that to be the truth. 

And money? He thought she would at least be tempted by the paycheck his agency offered, swamping her modest income - he knew the workings of rescue agencies - but she turned her nose up at him instead.

The least he actually did for her was request her agency to clean up his battles, hoping to fuel some ambition within her by being involved with some high-profile cases, but after a few times of this happening she saw through his apparent ruse and furiously confronted him before cutting him off completely. 

He hardly saw her after that and instead consistently stewed about it, trying to figure out the way to get through to her whilst simultaneously ridding himself of his pent up energy with countless women in his bed.

“I thought you didn’t want to be close to me,” he repeats her earlier words tightly, curling his lip in disdain. His breath catches in his throat as her hands trace his bulging arms up to his shoulders. He scoffs a breathy laugh. “You got a funny way of showing it.”

She’s so close that it makes the space that had been between them in their heated drama earlier seem as if they had been on separate continents. He can feel her breath on his lips and the sliding of her hands around his neck. His hands automatically slip to her waist. He’s been in this position many times. He isn’t shy about a leading promise of sex, but this is…. different .

Ochako runs her tongue across her fangs with a quiet, low laugh and Katsuki’s lips almost catch the flavor of her as she inches just a touch closer. 

“I wonder what you taste like…” 

Her words drip out deliciously from her pouting lips, which linger just ever so slightly out of reach, and Katsuki is heavily inclined to provide her with the answer to her curiosity… but he is also concerned at their sudden change of pace. 

Instead, he pulls back, craning his neck away to look up towards the ceiling of the corridor.

“Seriously…” he says in a low voice, growing increasingly more fatigued at containing the beast that she’s threatening to unleash within him. “You hated me less than an hour ago. Now you’re…”

He doesn’t know how to describe their current position and leaves the sentence lingering in the air while Ochako remains clinging to him. 

“Don’t you…” She searches for him, creeping up to the points of her toes, and he wills his eyes to remain glaring at a spot on the ceiling. “...Wonder what I taste like, too?”

Katsuki squeezes his eyes closed and his jaw tenses as he mentally grips onto the last morsel of control. He fights himself and the fierce temptation currently threatening to erase any inhibitions he has left, send her crashing into the wall, and fuck her senseless.

“We can’t…” he mutters unconvincingly, unlatching her from their embrace without looking at her so he doesn’t give into the wild and filthy desires currently sprinting through his mind. “Let’s go back to the party.”

Her voice drops to a silky, alluring tease. “I know you want me, Katsuki…”

Now he understands why he’s been so desperate to hear his name ooze from her mouth. The sound of each syllable through her parted lips, her tongue clicking against her palate, the sultry drop in her tone. The delicate moan of her voice slinks into his ears and it’s even better than his imagination has ever concocted - he doesn’t care about anything else anymore, mental clarity forced out by the thirst he has for her, the craving over so many years finally being able to take over.

He grabs her again by the waist, rapidly forcing her backward and slamming her against the wall as their lips crash together in a hungry kiss, burning hot and messy. She needily accepts him as their tongues lap together, finally tasting each other as if they had been maliciously starved. As their kiss deepens, their heavy breaths and moans intermingle. Katsuki reaches down to latch his large hands under Ochako’s thighs. 

It’s a swift and easy motion for him to hoist her up. She wraps her legs around him tightly, without breaking their rhythm. Ochako moans into his mouth and Katsuki is thankful that he has enough experience to hold himself back from coming completely undone already. 

Her hands move into his hair, tangling and working against the product he’d used to slick it back, and he breaks away in discomfort. A smirk slinks across her lips and she pulls at his hair once more to ignite a hiss from his lips. 

“You make delicious sounds,” she sighs. “I want to hear more.”

Katsuki’s head is suddenly yanked backwards and he growls, his teeth baring, as she fists his hair in her hand. “ Fuck! Ochako…”

She moans in contentment at his strained words and lurches forwards to run her tongue along his slightly exposed neck, tasting the delicious sweet and spiced flavor of him. If Katsuki wasn’t so intensely hungry for her, desperate to hold on, he might have dropped her from his grip. He never in a million years expected her to be like this.

Katsuki can only speak in expletives as Ochako sucks and nips at his neck, while his fingers dig deeper into her plentiful thighs. She finally comes up for air, breathlessly panting, as he lowers his chin to meet her ravenous gaze.

“Now, now…” she purrs, her eyes dropping to his lips briefly. “You wanted to go back and join the party.”

“Fuck that,” he growls, kissing her swollen lips once again as her lipstick stains his skin. “I want you .”

She places a gentle finger against his lips and smiles down at him from her new vantage point, thanks to his strength of keeping her easily pinned. Her hand caresses the strong muscle of his bicep and she sighs. “I think it’ll be more fun, don’t you?” 

It doesn’t take more than her proposition and another hungry, desperate kiss to convince Katsuki that it is definitely a good idea. He wonders if Ochako had always been this sexy… this kinky ? 

She steps back gracefully after he places her down onto solid ground, yet her face is as feral as his reeling thoughts. Katsuki doesn’t wait, hot on his path back to the library, desperately holding himself back as the throb in his boxers betrays his feigned aura of someone in control. 

Before he can pull the door open, Ochako yanks him by the arm and he pivots toward her while she takes the end of her glove delicately into that sweet mouth of hers to pull it off slowly. He’s hypnotized by her intentional eye contact and she lets the glove dangle from her teeth as she reaches her thumb to his chin. 

Her skin rubs softly against his, her finger catching on the light stubble of his shaven face, and he realizes that she’s cleaning up the smudge of her lipstick before anyone puts two and two together. She finishes up and pulls her glove back on, stretching her fingers into the satin and sending him a teasing look that he is simultaneously thrilled by and agonizing over. 

They enter together, probably not the wisest choice, to the entire sea of faces staring at them. 

“Let’s go,” she orders before strutting away to their awaiting table, while Katsuki can do nothing but linger on her hips as they sway. 

He is acutely aware that all attention is on the pair of them and his table guests in particular look a mixture of confused and concerned. Honestly, he thinks if he wasn’t so fucking horny, he would be completely on their level. He’s reliving the whiplash of their heated argument and also Ochako’s thighs tightly around him before he’s even managed to sit down and tries to act somewhat normal while the wait staff pour him a fresh glass of wine. 

“So…” Kirishima says with a look that Katsuki can’t place. “Is everything okay?”

Katsuki drinks, nodding cooly to Kirishima before glancing to Ochako, who is swirling the wine in her glass nonchalantly. He returns an answer tightly, “Yep.”

“Whatever it was, I hope you got it resolved,” Yao-Momo adds. 

“Luckily, I bumped into Bakugou…” Ochako adds, her voice dripping sweetly with innocence as  her foot suddenly traces along Katsuki’s calf underneath the draping cover of the tablecloth. He suppresses a jolt of surprise. “...and we managed to sort it out.”

“Not quite,” Katsuki says breathily before swallowing another sip of wine against the tight lump in his throat. He diverts his eyes to Ochako again. “There’s a lot more I need to do.”

The smirk playing on the corners of Ochako’s mouth is hidden well enough for no-one else but him to notice. He’s trying his best not to continuously stare at her, to not blast everything off the damn table and fuck her on top of it. And she isn’t helping matters.

The vixen is seriously testing his resolve. Katsuki takes a breath to steady himself, relieved when she retracts her foot and he relaxes ever so slightly. If he can get her back into that hallway, he would do unmentionable things to her. 

How noticeable would their absence be? Could he concoct some reason for them to both slink away from here and into the world of sin that awaits?  

It probably wouldn’t take long for someone to come looking for him. He is the host after all.

His scheming comes to a screeching halt when he feels her foot on him again, this time without her boot.

How has she managed to slip those off? The kneehigh leather had caught his attention earlier. There’s no way she should have been able to remove them so seamlessly yet here he is, feeling her toes gently travel along the inseam of his thighs. Higher and higher…

Her foot traces up to his thigh and he’s wondering how she’s doing it so blasé, so expertly. She’s partially sunk down in her chair but it doesn’t look out of the ordinary, and her upper body remains still and poised as she sips innocently on her drink. Katsuki didn’t think he’d enjoy the feeling of a foot pressing against his skin and into his thick muscle but there’s an unanticipated sensation of excitement as Ochako continues her ambush.

“I hope you’re feeling better now, Ochako.” Yao-Momo says with concern before her tone lifts to gush over her. “And I just want to comment on your beautiful locket. It’s gorgeous .”

She hums in acknowledgment and fondles the jewelry proudly as Katsuki feels the press of her toes towards his crotch. He stiffens and rushes a hand under the table to grip her ankle tightly, halting her advancements and feeling the silky sheerness of her tights. He stares at her while she stays trained on Yao-Momo. “I think I’ll feel better if I fill up on dessert. ”

As the sweet word drops from her mouth, her eyes dart to Katsuki and she takes advantage of his moment of weakness to delicately stroke ever closer to his twitching cock. He brings his free hand up to his mouth rapidly, biting down on his fist and stifling an obscene noise before it could escape from him.

He feigns a cough as Ochako continues her teasing, attempting to cover up his bizarre flinching to the pair sitting in their company. 

She needs to stop… but he doesn’t want her to . 

He is aching with desire at her barely-there touches ghosting across him as the mental images of their earlier entanglement are burning vividly in his mind.

“Oh, you changed your mind? Do you want to order something?” Kirishima asks, looking around for any nearby staff before his attention falls on Katsuki, who is sitting like he is made of stone. “Can she, bro?”

“Mmhm,” Katsuki replies tightly, his mouth still muffled by his fist, as her toes work to tease him further. 

Yao-Momo passes the intricate menu across the table and Ochako hums thoughtfully as her angelic face scans the options, all the while her toes massage just shy of his cock that’s pressing taut against his dress slacks.

“These all sound great,” she says with a sigh. “But it looks like what I really want isn’t on the menu.”

Katsuki removes the hand from his mouth, inhaling sharply as he reaches out for his wine glass and holds it a little too tightly. He takes a swig just as Ochako decides to trace her toes across the bulge of his dick, and he can’t help but groan as he holds the velvety liquid in his mouth.

Three pairs of eyes are suddenly on him. 

Two of them are bewildered about the sound that had just emitted from his throat and one sits in bliss of being the cause. He swallows quickly and puts the glass down. 

“This wine is some of the best in the world…” he says, attempting to clarify as he clears his throat, before locking eyes with Ochako. “ So fucking good .”

He isn’t sure if Yao-Momo and Kirishima have any inkling about the secret touches and lewd hints being dropped between him and Ochako, but honestly he is beginning to stop caring. It isn’t going to take many more elusive touches, teasing him into oblivion, until he snaps. 

As the three of them start talking about some gossip from other random heroes that Katsuki has absolutely zero interest in, he reaches his hand back down under the table again and guides Ochako’s delicate foot in his hand, feeling her move against his minute resistance. The pad of her foot once more strokes across him and he suppresses a shudder, resisting the urge to look down at her ministrations that are driving him crazy. 

“...isn’t that right, man?”

Oh shit.

Kirishima is asking him a question. 

He has no idea what it is in regards to and he glances across to each curious set of eyes, before landing on Ochako who offers him no assistance in the matter. He chews on his answer for a moment, still conscious of Ochako’s foot massaging around his cock, and finally spits out: “Sure.”

“I told you!” the red-head beams across to Ochako.

Wait.

When the fuck did the conversation turn to him and Ochako? 

How long had he been enjoying himself in their lewd bubble at the table? 

His eyes dart to her and she’s looking smugly back at him. His grip tightens around her as she attempts to pull away.

“Told you what?” he growls as her foot wiggles in his tight grip.

“I wondered if you thought my costume was good enough for your fancy ball.” Her voice dances with pure intentions as he allows her to retreat her foot and he feels the softness of her hosiery against his palm as she pulls away. Immediately he craves her touch again. Wanting nothing more than to grab on to her and rip the delicate fabric right at the seams.

He allows his gaze to trail her figure, her tits that are threatening to spill out and that he desperately wants to free from their corset prison, and this time he retaliates her smug look with his own. “Actually, on second thoughts, you can do better.”

His imagination runs completely untethered and feral with what she’s barely concealing with her costume. The only way she can do better is by straddling him, wearing nothing but the tights. The material is so easy to rip a hole through, he could definitely fuck her while she’s still wearing them. As his entire body tenses with his hungry thoughts, he once again fights himself to calm down before he practically explodes.

“Don’t listen to him,” Yao-Momo chimes. “You look amazing.”

“I know,” she says with a smile, running her tongue along her sharp fangs. 

“Isn’t it crazy how you’re both vampires?” Kirishima laughs. 

“Not that crazy for Halloween,” Yao-Momo comments. “But you do appear to be the only vampires here. I’d have thought there’d be more than the two of you.”

“Perhaps it’s fate,” Ochako murmurs.

“If you believe in such a thing,” Yao-Momo replies with a laugh.

Katsuki has no idea if he does believe in fate. Although there had been various cross-overs in their lives that were only made possible by different things aligning at the perfect time. He didn’t care all too much about the trajectory and paths of other people, but he could never help but keep an eye on her. 

Maybe this is fate. 

“I think once we realize something, even subconsciously, and we finally understand what it is that we want and deserve, then that’s when it comes into our life. Manifestation ,” Ochako says smoothly, running her index finger around the rim of her wine glass thoughtfully.

Okay. Katsuki is on board with whatever the fuck Ochako has just described.

“Manifestation?” Kirishima asks quizzically. 

“When you visualize what you want over time, and then eventually it appears in your life in a way that is so out of the ordinary you know it has to have come from your manifestations.”

“What have you been visualizing then?” Katsuki finds himself asking without control, chewing on his bottom lip in anticipation. 

“Bakugou!” Yao-Momo chastises. 

“Don’t act like you don’t wanna know,” he growls, cutting her a look.

She shuffles in her seat. “Well… I suppose I am curious.”

“I think you, of all people, know the answer to that,” Ochako says directly to Katsuki, her voice dropping to the sultry, husky one that he had been driven crazy by out in the hallway, as she stares unabashedly at him.

Before anyone can demand further explanations, Katsuki is pulled away by his staff who are indicating the time - his moment to deliver his next speech. With an apologetic glance to everyone at his table, he gets up and dresses into his suit blazer once again. He’s thankful that Ochako had given his dick some respite for a few moments so he could compose himself. 

Heading to the stage as people murmur and steal further glances at him, he switches to professional mode and grabs the microphone deftly.

“Good evening, again,” he starts, his voice calm and collected, as he reaches for his cue cards. “The dinner service is over and we shall now return to the hall for the rest of the evening.”

A round of applause slips into his pause and he nods in appreciation before continuing: “The complementary bar is open for another hour. Please enjoy the musical show in the ballroom.”

He hands the mic back to his awaiting assistant and paces down towards the congregation of his old classmates who were standing around rekindling after their time apart during the meal. 

“Let’s go,” he barks, stepping next to Ochako and sliding a guiding hand on the small of her back in a surprisingly bold move. 

She looks up at him, her tongue pinching between her teeth teasingly, and he has to look away before he ultimately decides to pull her back into the hallway and pick up where they had left off.

“Okay, jeez ,” Mina mutters, coming around to link with Ochako’s arm. Katsuki swiftly reclines his hand away from Ochako, jealousy eating away at him that he cannot openly touch her, as the group of them head back towards the ballroom. 

“Amazing dinner, my man,” Denki says with a grin, clapping Katsuki on the arm. “Top notch!”

“Truly,” Sero collaborates. “Easily in my top five.”

“Top five?!” Katsuki growls incredulously. “Fuck off.”

“You’re not number one in everything, ” Mina teases, poking him.

“Yeah,” Denki agrees with a long drawl. “You got pretty badly beaten by our Chacks, if I remember rightly.”

Katsuki scoffs, craning his head to look at Ochako with lingering eyes. “I’m still two-one up.”

Ochako sends him a dangerous smirk. “Be careful or I’ll level out that score.”

“ Ohhhh? ” Mina hollers excitedly as their group lights up with the same enthusiasm. “Don’t get her fired up, Bakugou. You might regret it.”

He tilts his chin down slightly and sends Ochako a knowing look before entering into the ballroom. The band begins to play a particularly sultry melody, as all eyes pay attention to the singer on stage, dressed in a flowing black gown. Her voice softly invites everyone onto the dancefloor and the daring ones step in, perfectly alcohol-fuelled and spurred on by some of the professionals from the earlier performance. 

Katsuki turns on his heel smoothly and holds out his hand to Ochako. “Want to see what else I can do?”

He can sense everyone in the vicinity’s jaw drop but he has stopped caring. Ochako doesn’t hesitate and puts her gloved hand into his, which he takes gently. 

“Baku- Chacks ?!” Mina can’t form words correctly as her eyes dart aggressively between the two of them.

“I say we give them a show,” Ochako murmurs as she steps closer to him, her eyes so fierce they almost glow. Katsuki feels his stomach drop in thrilling anticipation. 

They step around people and into the center of the floor as the professional dancers pair up to cascade and twirl around them elegantly. An audience of eyes burns into the pair of them, too stunned to dance themselves.

“Did you know anything about this?” Kirishima nudges Mina and she scowls up at him.

“ No ! Did you?!”

He shakes his head. “Not at all!”

“They both came as vampires,” Denki interjects. “Surely they must have planned this…”

“Ochako doesn’t have anything to do with Bakugou anymore…” Mina huffs. “Unless she’s been keeping it a secret from me!”

“Didn’t you see them earlier?” Sero adds. “It’s not like they chatted all friendly.”

“They were acting strange at dinner,” Yao-Momo ponders. “They were both gone for a little while.”

“Oh shit, you’re right!” Kirishima rubs his chin in thought - over the helm.

“ Oh my God!” Mina screeches before calming herself a tad. “They must have had a rehearsal during dinner! They came back looking super awkward!”

“They planned a dance?” Jiro says with a cocked eyebrow. “That seems weird.”

***

While their fellow alumni continue to contemplate and theorize on their union in the middle of the floor, Ochako and Katsuki finally make it to another semblance of alone time. 

“Follow my lead,” Katsuki says smoothly, drawing Ochako closer and snaking his hand around her waist. 

She licks her lips as she is pulled against Katsuki’s solid body, tilting her chin up towards him as her eyes stare hungrily at the decorated skin of his thick neck. So inviting . Her hand traces up onto his shoulder and presses into his tight, broad frame.

As the music swirls, he moves Ochako around the floor with ease as she finds her footing in time with him, and they lock eyes with as much passion as they find within the dance. The strings amp up and Katsuki dips Ochako down suavely. Her back arches, molding around the curve of his arm perfectly, and he grabs onto her bent leg, holding ever so familiarly onto her thigh. 

They hold the position for a beat until he brings her back up to vertical, her leg still very much in his grasp, at the crashing of the percussion. Their lips hover millimeters apart and Katsuki pulls away, wanting to savor the moment instead. He twirls Ochako around, and she allows him to guide her. 

At the point where the music climbs powerfully, Ochako decides to take the moment into her own hands by pulling away from Katsuki’s positioning and grabbing his face roughly. His brows drop into a frown.

“Kiss me, Katsuki,” she demands.

This isn’t how he had thought it would go according to his haphazard, improvised plan but he doesn’t need any more persuasion. His hands are soon slinking around her waist again as her hand drops down to meet with her other around his neck. He kisses her desperately as the music climaxes with the joined gasps and murmurs of everyone in the room.

Katsuki feels like he is ascending and taking Ochako with him to another plane of existence. The sounds of the music and the babbling of everyone else fades to nothing and he can only sense the two of them. Their kiss is deep and erratic, like they are making up for lost time. Starving for those hours they could never, ever regain because they were both too stubborn.

A sting of pain illuminates sharply across his lip as her fang pierces him, but they do not cease their momentum. She sucks on the coppery deliciousness from his bottom lip hungrily as a filthy moan erupts from her throat. 

Suddenly she pulls away at the same time the locket across her chest vibrates and it opens up to release a red mist that swallows the entire room swiftly. The room echoes with coughs and splutters as Katsuki surveys his surroundings urgently.

“What the-” his questioning is cut off when Ochako presses her tongue to her fang harshly, allowing a droplet of blood to form, and kisses him deeply once again. 

He can’t deny her. 

The commotion is easily forgotten as he melts into her kiss. The metallic tang of her blood dances along his taste buds and he feels himself wane, his body overcome with dizziness.

“Time flows and yet,

Stands still in a moment’s kiss,

Fleeting or fuelled by your desires,

This is your fate.

Bound by the red string,

As red as lifeblood,

Seal your bond,

Drink, love, lust.

While the lingering eyes

Cannot cast on your union

Until the turn of a new day.”

***

Katsuki follows Ochako to the gilded stage, her hand guiding him confidently, as she discards his suit jacket onto the floor. The audience rove around as brainless zombies cursed in an eternal dance by the red mist, and are paying them absolutely no mind. 

But that isn’t on his radar of concern. 

His fangs tingle with thirst as Ochako lures him into the spotlight, the warm glow cascading over her and highlighting her unbelievable figure. Her hand moves to his tie, suddenly yanking him down to her level, and she teases his lips with her tongue.

“So delicious,” she purrs. 

“I want you,” he blurts with a light moan as his lips reach for her, but she retreats just before he can kiss her again. 

“Say please.”

Katsuki’s jaw flexes in response to her demand and when he doesn’t reply immediately, her grip on his tie tightens and his neck bears the added tension.

She is nothing but surprising, especially in this new state of being, and his domineering nature is threatening to erupt. He wants to take control, not to be the one begging. He wants to be the one doing everything, and wants to dominate, but he has already fucked things up more than once with her. All previous attempts of getting close to her were foiled by stubbornness, but now, he is so close to finally having her - and he will do anything to have her - so he kicks his pride to the curb and begs .

“Please.”

“I can’t hear you, Katsuki.”

“ Please ,” his voice whines and Ochako is satisfied, releasing her taut grip and finally kissing him again. He grunts as she pulls away, far too soon for his liking. 

“Come here,” she demands, pulling him across the stage by his tie, like a makeshift leash, as he follows obediently - swallowing down the urge to fight against her. She finally sets him free from his tether, slowly pulling the tie loose and tossing it onto the floor, and undoes the three top buttons of his shirt. His neck and collarbone, decorated with pale scars, now exposed to her. 

“You have been tempting me all evening,” she murmurs as she draws a fingertip along each pattern and he shudders beneath her craving touch. Her lips slowly suckle where her finger has already traced. 

Then he feels the puncture of her teeth sinking into him. 

His breath hitches in his throat as she drinks, savoring the flavor of him with every draw, and a groan escapes him. It is both euphoric and torturous. His hands find their way to her, desperately holding her closer to him. 

She pulls away from his neck with a groan, further satisfied, as a trail of his blood trickles from her lip. Her fangs glisten with stains of red as she laps up any lingering spots. Her tongue licks across his puncture wounds and he sees stars blurring his euphoric haze. Her irises glow red, matching the intensity of her manic expression as she eyes him up in his entirety. 

Katsuki snarls as he reaches out to her. “I want to feed.”

Her hand is quickly at his neck, gripping as much of it as she can stretch around the thickness of him, and she feels his throbbing jugular. “You will feed when I tell you to and not a moment sooner.”

His eyes widen at the sudden strength of her and he nods quickly. 

“Say my name,” she commands and Katsuki can’t help the smirk curling across his lips as she matches his expression. 

“ Ochako ,” he obliges and she releases him.

“Such a bad boy,” she purrs, shaking her head slightly. “Now, get down on your knees.”

He feels his cock twitch in anticipation and, unexpectedly , at the degradation Ochako gives him, before he willingly yields to her demands by slowly lowering himself to the floor of the stage, looking up at her. The music of a ghostly, echoing orchestra plays while they move around the stage, as the instruments nearby remain in their stands, untouched.

“First, show me how desperate you are,” she instructs as she shifts to stand with her hips level with Katsuki’s face. 

His hands trail across the fabric of her skirt as he keeps his eyes on her, and he pulls the material down from her waist. It slips off with ease, pooling at her ankles, while Katsuki’s lungs heave in his chest. 

He is desperate for her. 

All those years of thinking about her while he jerks off, while a mixture of lustful desire and shame washes over him. Even with another woman in his bed, he could never get a full release unless he pictured her. He’s pined for her for so long, that this moment now seems so surreal and he’s wondering if he’s about to wake up from a perfect dream.

And he cannot believe it as his hands trace up her silky thighs, still clad in the sheer tights, and his eyes rest on her bare pussy…

She’s not wearing anything underneath.

Katsuki loses his false semblance of control. His hands move to the flimsy barrier of the tights and rip them with ease, savagely, before he fervently cups her ass and shifts closer on his knees. He wants to hear her moan, feel her dripping in ecstacy because of him. 

Ochako’s hand is in his hair, guiding him to finally get his taste. It doesn’t take long until a moan escapes her, as his warm tongue laps her skin, evading the obvious target of her clit. 

Oh.

He definitely knows what he’s doing.

She’s already wet and Katsuki hums, enjoying her sweetness by running his tongue teasingly along her thighs, as her hands tangle tighter into his blond locks. 

“-so fucking good,” he mumbles while he continues to outline patterns and circles across her.

“Taste-” She begins her order but falters when Katsuki uses that as his cue to finally lap across her clit. A breathy moan leaves her lips, “-m-me.”

Katsuki’s tongue waves across her and his hands squeeze into the roundness of her ass as he switches to kiss and suckle at her sensitive bud. He smirks as he feels her buck and writhe against his face, her sounds motivating his expert technique.

Ochako shifts before pulling at Katsuki’s hair to force him to look up. In a breathy groan she gives her next instruction, “Is that all you can do? I want more.”

She allows him to return to her. He brings one hand from cupping her ass, tracing it up the inside of her thigh, and feels her shudder at his ghosting touch. Teasing fingers reach the torn entry of her tights and he dips the tip of one into her wetness. His cock is raging hard in his slacks and the thought of sinking deep into her is driving him insane. 

But he can’t yet.

Suddenly he is interrupted by another painful tug on his hair. He growls at the sensation and locks eyes with Ochako.

“Did I tell you to use your fingers?”

“No…” he murmurs as she glares down at him.

“No, what ?”

“No, Ochako .”

“Do what I tell you to do. Taste me .” Her other hand meets in his hair and she pushes his face back to her awaiting heat.

As Katsuki continues his lapping assault on her, Ochako moves her grip from him and slips off her gloves, touching her chest to activate her quirk and bring her to weightlessness. She hooks one leg around Katsuki’s neck for purchase as he clings onto her. 

With this new elevated angle, Ochako can feel his exquisite capabilities more sensually and her moans climb as he continues to drive her closer to the edge. Her hands are back in his hair, a slight more carefully this time without the barrier of her gloves, and she glances down at him ravenously eating her out. 

Seeing him so needy, so desperate to please her, is building within her an aura of power. 

She wants to see him really beg. Wants to see him quiver as she takes control over him. 

Wants to see him succumb to someone like her.

“Look at you,” her voice escapes through her panting in revelry. “So desperate and pathetic, aren’t you?” 

Katsuki hums against her. He can’t remember his dick being so rock hard and he can’t help but submit to her, her demeaning words fuelling an unanticipated fire within him. She throws her head back as he pleasures her further, lolling her head to the side and noticing the golden, reflective sheen of the backdrop next to them. 

“So needy,” she growls. “You need me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathes into her skin. “God yes. I need you, Ochako.”

“Beg for me,” she demands, yanking him away from her again. “Beg to fuck me.”

“ Please . Please. Let me fuck you.” He is raspy and urgent, his lips swollen and chin sodden from working so hard for her. He cannot miss this chance.

She hums in contentment before twisting his head to the side. He flinches upon seeing himself in the mirrored surface, his reflection casting back with eyes blown wide as he remains pathetically on his knees. His wild, starved expression is a sight he’s never seen before but, if anything, it is the realization deep within his gut - that he is aching to submit to the woman towering over him - which is amping up his desperation and enticing him further.

“Does this look like the number one hero to you?” she asks, her voice husky and dark as they lock eyes through the golden surface.

He shudders beneath her, in desperation to unleash. 

“Answer me. Does this look like the number one hero to you? Begging and whimpering for me?”

“No.”

“Then, who are you?”

“...I’m yours,” he replies, searching her face for validation. Hers is the only one that matters after all.  “I’m all yours. ”

“Are you number one?” she asks, her tone dropping into an alluring sound, as she holds his gaze through the reflection.

He hesitates. “...No.”

Suddenly, she de-activates her quirk and simultaneously pushes back from him, leaving him on his knees while a confused expression ignites across his face.

“Wh-where are you going?” he asks, wondering how the fuck his voice has become so whiny.

“You still think you’re number one,” she comments, refusing him even a morsel of eye contact.

He scrambles forward closer to her. “ No . I’m yours. Come on, Ochako. Please .”

He clings to her leg, hands gripping around the leather of her boot, and finally she peers down at him in amusement. “If you’re not number one, then who is ?”

“You are.”

“And are you going to do what I tell you to do?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Ochako. ”

With a hum in acknowledgement she nudges him with her foot. “On your back.”

Continuing to perform for her validation, Katsuki rolls over, still dressed in his partially unbuttoned shirt and slacks which stretch across his aching length. Ochako looms over him, peering down at him laying there with a delicious expression of hopeful anticipation across his face, and orders him to remove his shirt. 

His fingers ghost down the rest of his buttons with ease and he drapes his shirt open either side of his torso, so Ochako can truly appreciate him. 

And she is delighted . 

The hard crests of his pecs, the bulky yet lean ridges of his abs, teasing with a trail of blond down to his tempting, concealed cock. The multitude of scars he’d garnered over the years are now reminders and proof of his many victories. She is truly going to feast on this after denying herself for so long….for so, stubbornly long .

“Arms above your head,” she commands, and he obeys. 

She reaches smoothly for his previously discarded tie and pulls it harshly around his wrists, knotting them together.  The silky fabric is almost painfully tight, reminding him again who is in charge. “You can’t touch me until I say you can.”

Katsuki laps his tongue across his starved lips, and watches intently as Ochako moves to stand over him. She lowers herself to straddle his hips and he’s well aware of her naked pussy now so close to his throbbing length - just a couple of measly layers separating them fully. He shifts underneath her, teasingly bucking his hips so she can feel how hard she’s made him, and groans impatiently. He’s fantasized over the feeling of her, of her tight, dripping cunt as he fills her to the hilt, and now she’s so close it’s becoming unbearable.

“Ochako…you’re driving me crazy here!” the power in his voice returns, gravelly yet still desperate.

She leans forward, slinking over him like a tiger about to devour her prey, and grazes her nails down his rippling muscle. Her tits are making for perfect viewing at this angle and he wishes for nothing more but to be able to explore her - to tease her as aggravatingly as she is doing to him, to have his tongue map the two mounds, and the valley dividing them, and taste the sweet pink bud at each peak. 

He twitches from her touch, letting out a husky moan, and soon he feels her lips traveling across the divots of his abdomen. He hisses at the sensation as his eyes slip closed in edging desire. 

Ochako has never felt so on top of the world, and she supposes that’s because she practically is. Dynamight - who everyone recognizes as number one - the Bakugou Katsuki - the man who’s been told he’s the best, and believes it too, for his entire existence… is now nothing more than a whimpering, writhing mess underneath her purposeful touches. A slave to her commandments.

His strength is intensely apparent as she grips her legs either side of him. He is a concrete mass covered with scar-striped, tanned skin and her sweeping kisses allow her to inhale his rich, intoxicating scent. Notes of warm spice and smoky, deep caramel ignite through her inhales and she can’t help but to nip at him occasionally - causing more impatient sounds to emit from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck– Please,” he groans, bending his arms to rest his bound hands over his eyes. Being a willing victim of her ceaseless teasing, especially for someone who is usually the one in control, so prideful, is beginning to push him to reassert his dominance. He has to make a conscious effort to stop his palms as they begin to smolder against the tie around his wrists - before he completely disintegrates it into ash - instead averting his gaze to watch her. He pants as she runs her tongue up his entire torso and stops just short of his eager mouth. “ Seriously . I don’t know how much longer I can take it.” 

She smirks. His admission is music to Ochako’s ears, pushing her to further work her mouth back down over his skin until she reaches the waistband of his slacks. Deftly, she unfastens them without moving her lips from him and when she finally comes up for air, she shifts backward to sit over his tense thighs.

“Up.”

Needing no further instructions, Katsuki bucks his hips and Ochako watches thirstily while his abs flex to thrust himself up easily against their combined weight. She pulls his slacks from him, letting them rest just below where his length is firmly pushing to stand to attention within his boxers, still yet to be fully unleashed. He lowers back down at the gentle tap of her hand. 

Her fingers sweep delicately across his thighs and into the outer lines of his boxers, she too avoiding the obvious target within her sights. 

“You’re so hard for me. Such a naughty boy… who said you could get this hard without my permission?” 

This is enough to pull another tortured whine from Katsuki’s throat and Ochako spies his length twitching beneath its concealment. Her eyes linger on the spot of his boxers, the darkened, wet material clearly displaying his wanting need for her. His desire to sink in deep.  

“You’re so hot , Ochako,” he grunts. “With all your fucking teasing, can you blame me!?”

“Ah-ah- ahhh ~” The words leave her mouth in a singsong as she shakes her head towards him and her finger playfully wanders up his chest. “What a dirty mouth.” She leans forward and places it against his lips. “Perhaps I should punish you some more?” 

Tauntingly, she moves to run her thumb along and pushes it through his parted lips. Katsuki, starved of contact with her, takes it into his mouth and sucks greedily, flicking his tongue around her as if in reminder of what he can do - if she allows him to finally, fucking touch her again.

She pulls her thumb from his mouth and stills. 

“ Please ,” he blurts needily. “I’ll behave. Fuck, Ochako - I’ll do anything you want- just please-”

Before he can finish his pleading, Ochako’s elusive fingertips trace up Katsuki’s length. Just once. And with just enough of a light touch to produce a deep, guttural hitch in his throat. His hips buck harshly into the air, jolting her at the same time, as he searches for more.

Ochako runs her fingers under the band of his boxers, hooking the elastic so she can peel them from him. He’s panting with filthy desperation and lifts up slowly again so Ochako can finally release his wanting desire. 

The thick length of pleasure he holds for her now lays at her fingertips and beads with slick anticipation. Katsuki watches her with bated breath as she chews hungrily on her bottom lip, taking all of him in her sights, and soon her palms are pressed carefully onto his hips.

“Will you behave?” she purrs, her eyes darting to meet his own urgent gaze. “When I taste you, will you stay put and behave?”

He shifts beneath her as he replies, “ Yes. Fuck yes.”

She wraps delicately around the base of his length. It pulses against her hold and she hums in satisfaction. “Do. Not . Cum. Do you understand?”

The stroke of her hand from length to tip, smothering his wetness as she reaches his peak, earns the loudest moan from Katsuki so far. It sends thrilling chills down her spine seeing him like this. Hearing the rasp of his voice as it catches in his throat is particularly wonderful. She halts after her single motion. 

“ Answer me .”

“Y-yes, Ochako,” he responds through a shuddering breath and nods.

Her mouth hovers so close to actually taking him, and she locks eyes with his desperate gaze. Transfixed, he watches her in utter fascination. “Tell me how badly you want me. I want to hear it.”

He swallows thickly. “So bad,” he confesses as his voice escapes through gritted teeth. “So, so fucking bad . You have no idea.”

She hums, her lips pursing lustfully and almost touching his aching, sensitive peak. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“You’re all I think about,” he garbles. “Every time.”

Ochako smirks and lowers down to run the flat of her tongue slowly from the base to the tip and Katsuki stands no chance at holding back the guttural moan from escaping him with a full body quiver.

“What do you think about?” she asks sweetly, as if she’s not about to engulf his cock, and he stares down at her with burning irises. He snarls as she teases her tongue across his tip, lapping the sensitive glands, and he bucks towards her again. 

“Tell me,” she murmurs as her breath ghosts across him. Her hands push him back down, forcing him once more to submit, to endure. “Then maybe I’ll give you what you’re so desperate for.”

“Your pretty mouth sucking my cock. Choking on it-” He smirks but drops it very quickly when Ochako laps once more along the underside of him. “ Fuck- every time, I imagine you- Ochako . You riding me. Breaking my bed- fucking you in every room of my house-I’ve wanted you for so fucking long-”

Katsuki can’t form any more of his admissions as Ochako takes his rock hard length into her hot mouth, inching up and down slowly until she’s taken him fully. An obscene groan falls from him. 

She pleasures the entirety of his cock, her tongue fluttering along as her lips work to pull desperate obscenities from him. His rhythmic moans build as her cheeks hollow while she sucks and he can feel the ridging of the back of her throat as she laps around him. 

He is burning hot and the rush of being with her races through his veins. The sensation ignites a raging wildfire within him. She’s dragging him into paradise. 

He’s going to get addicted. Fuck that - he already is.

At last, he’s allowed to feel what he’s imagined for so damn long and it’s even better than he could have ever expected or pathetically imitated with his own hand. The real deal makes him feel like he’s about to depart from this planet and this is just her mouth. He can’t even begin to comprehend the feeling of her tight cunt wrapped around him.

At that thought, a shuddering groan escapes him and he fights against the tie around his wrists. His hips buck against her in time with her thrusts. And he is tempted… so fucking tempted …to burn these knots from his wrists and tangle his hands in her hair to fuck her face and then bury his cock inside that tightness he’s dreamed of.

But something about being bound, being told that he can’t , is elevating him more than he would have ever thought.

“F- fuck.” He hisses as she suddenly relinquishes her mouth from him and his chest is heaving from the continuous edging she’s subjected him to. “It feels so good, Ochako .”

She hums at the way he deeply groans her name. Pondering through a smirk, while her hand continues to trace up and down him to keep him squirming beneath her touch, she leaves Katsuki with a trail of prickling skin electrified and thrilled by her. “Tell me what else you’ve thought about me.”

Katsuki’s eyes flutter closed as he sighs and relaxes into her touch and he bites his bottom lip as she delicately slows her work along his length. He can feel the boundaries and walls that he’d built breaking - the obstinate walls that they both had built - as she continues to pull confessions from him.

“Hmm…” His voice is deep and husky, strained. “You’re the only one that makes me question everything.”

That answer honestly surprises her and for a millisecond she falters, her hand slowing to a complete stop at the same time, but she picks up the pace again before Katsuki notices. Her heart thuds in her chest at his sudden vulnerability. It thrills her to think that he holds her on such a pedestal.

“Oh?” she says through a voice just above a whisper. 

His eyes are closed, a smile playing on his face, and his hands - still bound - rest along his forehead. She could have never imagined Katsuki looking this delicious. She wasn’t blind to his obvious traits - his handsome and angular features or his conditioned body, to name a few - but this… this is a much more invigorating sight to behold compared to her traitorous imagination. 

For someone always so in control - usually commanding the entire room - she never thought in a million years he would be so willing to submit like this. 

He grunts, panting around his words, “I wish I’d just told you everything after the sports festival - how sexy and amazing you are… shit - you drive me fucking crazy.”

She swallows against the tightness in her throat as her heart skips a few beats at his sincerity. He’s been wanting her for that long ? 

Letting go of his wet cock, she opens her palms. “Hands.”

He opens his eyes sharply, targeting her. “What?”

“Give me your hands.” Her words finally register with him and he lowers his arms down. She grips around the knots to start loosening them from him. “When I take this off, you may touch me, but you still do what I tell you - understood ?”

This time he simply nods, a playful smirk gracing his lips as he watches intently. She pulls the tie loops through each other slowly and Katsuki fights his instincts once again to yank them off himself or peter them out into ash. 

After ten aching seconds Katsuki is finally free. He flexes his joints but makes no immediate attempt to hold Ochako - hesitating and awaiting her instructions like the obedient mess she’s turning him into.

“Take off my corset,” she orders and Katsuki moves at practically the speed of sound - at her permission - to pull on the ribbons harshly, and it isn’t long until she is free to maneuver fully again. 

“So fucking sexy,” Katsuki murmurs as he pulls it free from her, dropping it down next to them, as his eyes stay glued on tracing her curves. “Holy shit, angel face .”

She puts a finger to his lips. “Ochako.”

And he kisses it with a smirk. “ Ochako .”

The obedience of him, and his words of admiration, add further height to the power trip Ochako’s currently on. The headrush she’s experiencing is more intoxicating than the exquisite wine she has been enjoying all evening and she wonders how magical it’s going to feel once she finally sinks down onto him. She shuffles forward and sits up on her knees, perfectly lining up with his waiting dick -  so hard and ready just for her. 

Katsuki can’t believe his eyes, they almost bulge out his head as she moves, and he gives himself a moment to prepare for her perfect pussy to finally take all of him in. 

“Touch me,” she commands, guiding his hand to her silky thighs and towards the space he had torn open in her tights earlier.

It seems as though he’s forgotten how to form words. He shifts to lean up on his left elbow for purchase while the touch of his right hand travels down. She’s sopping wet for him and he circles the pads of his fingers across her clit to produce a low, rumbling moan from her. 

This time, knowing his place , he traces a finger to her entrance and she allows him to dip into the wetness of her. He slides it in slowly with minimal resistance but just enough to know he wants to warm her up so she can take his cock more easily. 

He wants to do nothing but please her. Give her the best he can give. 

And he’s thought about this a million times but somehow he isn’t prepared for how good she feels as he works one finger into her, to the knuckle. He flutters and presses against her walls and she quietly gasps at the deep sensation. 

After a few moments, and feeling her relax and soften around him, he gently guides in a second finger and works with her grinding movements as she rides his hand. Her sounds intensify as his thumb circles and presses gently against her bud and his mouth falls slack as he watches her in awe at the perfect noises he’s managing to garner. 

Fuck he had no idea she would sound this sexy. 

Her hips buck and writhe against his fluttering, pumping fingers and time stands still. The way he works her, she hasn’t felt so satisfied in her life. Any memories of past lovers dissolve into blurry nothingness as Katsuki accelerates her pleasure. And he has no intention of slowing down - wanting to remember this moment as he focusses obsessively on pleasuring her - yet he obediently waits for her next instruction. 

It comes after an inconceivable amount of time in a breathy command: 

“Fuck me, Katsuki.”

With a lustful, deep sigh he slowly relinquishes his fingers from her and lays back, cradling his one arm behind his head to watch her. His free hand travels to the round of her hips and the dip of her waist - such gorgeous proportions - and then holds the base of his throbbing cock to help guide it into her.

“Eyes on me.” Another order that he willingly complies with as their eyes lock with passionate intensity. 

Her hand reaches down to help his length inch towards her entrance and she begins to lower herself down. Katsuki’s breath hitches in agonizing anticipation as he trains his eyes onto hers - despite the primal urge to watch her sink down and take all of him - and he moves his grip to her waist.

His tip is at the folds of her as she sensitively rubs and glazes him with her wetness, and she’s so sopping wet that Katsuki feels like she’s the wonderful oasis after traversing a harsh desert. He is seriously tense, every muscle tight in preparation to hone in on the feeling of her, and he cannot remember ever feeling this sensation of both pure ecstasy and crippling nerves all at once.

Gradually she descends and as the tip of him sinks in, Katsuki hisses as her perfect cunt sucks him in just past his head. She lets out quiet, panting breaths and Katsuki’s grip is tight around her waist, his fingers digging into her plentiful curves. 

The tether within is seriously wearing thin and for a moment he loses the semblance of composure and control he has left - planting his feet, lifting his knees and bucking his hips in a desperate attempt to sheath himself completely inside of her. Ochako leans back, pushing away from his thighs and he halts.

“Bad boy,” she pants, gripping the thick muscle of his legs. “Now, you have to earn it.”

“How-tell me how, Ochako. I’m so ready -” he whines pathetically, lowering his hips back down again but keeping his knees bent for her to use for purchase. “ Shit - please - just tell me.”

“You’re so desperate for me…” she hums, circling her hips around and teasing the tip of his length in and out of her sopping heat. Katuski grips tighter into her soft waist. “How long have you wanted me?”

Both of his hands shift to travel and rove her body, kneading the soft mounds of her tits and taking her nipples in his fingers, rolling the pebbled buds, and gliding against the hourglass of her figure. 

He devours her with hungry eyes. “Ten years- f-fuck - I think about you every day. I tried to…I wanted to be with you- I wanted to make you feel like a fucking queen. In every way- shit… I want you- ”

At every gasping admission, each word, Ochako grinds and sinks down - millimeter by agonizing , desperate millimeter - and Katsuki is beginning to see stars dotting across his vision as if he truly is ascending to a different plane of existence.

And when she sinks halfway down, her voice begins to lose its hard edge. “Naughty boy, keeping me waiting for soooo long.”

Katsuki’s panting is matched by Ochako as he keeps a kneading grip on her, not wanting to ever let her go again. Not now that he finally has her in his grasp. He keeps his eyes on hers as she shifts and stretches to fit his thick cock. 

Finally, she lowers herself down, engulfing him entirely to the hilt with a groan so filthy and beautiful that Katsuki can’t help but feel his eyes rolling back - so much so that he swears he’s gone blind. She feels tight and perfect, so fucking perfect , around him. 

“Eyes- on- me,” Ochako pants, as she starts to move, gripping his legs which are still bent from his earlier impatience. He opens his eyes hazily, already sex-drunk and intoxicated, and thankfully hasn’t gone blind because fuck he almost cums from the gorgeous image of her sat a top of him - with her pink flushed cheeks and gaping, dirty mouth - as if she were a queen and his cock, her throne. 

Suddenly her wrist is at her lips and she grazes her fang across her skin, allowing a line of red to form and drip from her slowly. Katsuki’s eyes glow, the suppressed vampiric side of him now awakening. She holds her arm out over him. “ Taste .”

Katsuki growls with the venomous curse of the red mist driving him, and opens his hungry mouth. Ochako’s blood drips onto his tongue and he wanes. With the unexpected new bloodlust, alongside being edged all evening, the animalistic beast within him is now only being held back by a pathetic piece of string.

His starving groan must have been pulled from the sheer depths of him, because he’s never, ever heard himself make a noise that intense before, not even after all his begging and whimpering for her. His throat burns as hot as his desire for her. It’s raging through him like a drug - and he is hooked. The deep red of her life source drips down his chin and Ochako’s pussy clenches at how Katsuki is enjoying the taste of her. 

Ochako circles in a figure of eight, bottoming out on his large thickness, and crying out at how deep he is reaching inside of her. Up and down she bounces, driving Katsuki slowly insane. She’s been so ready for this, and he’s worked her so expertly, that the feeling of him filling her up is intensely pleasurable. And with them both feeding from each other, their bond runs deeper than they could ever imagine.

“More!” Katsuki growls, his voice unlike anything Ochako’s ever heard, as he writhes beneath her. “I need more. Let me fuck you… properly ..” he hisses as her movements do not cease. “ Please . Let me show you what I can do-”

Ochako lowers her wrist down, shifting forwards over Katsuki, and he grabs at her hand like he’s been starving for days. He’s felt starved of her for a hell of a lot longer. His tongue laps at the delicious nectar falling from her wrist and he groans as she commands him again. 

“Then… show me .”

Katsuki’s eyes blow wide, glowing like pools of lava, and match the intensity of hers as she stares at him with an equally craving expression. 

Following her instruction obediently, but also now driven by his unbridled dominating side, Katsuki uses a tiny amount of his effort to grab Ochako. He sits up and twists her around so her back lays against the floor of the stage, pulling out from her for only a moment. 

The spotlight is still cascading over them, the red mist flowing a haze around the entire room, like they are the stars of the show. His hands, rough but equally careful, haul her closer by the thighs. He crowds over her, his hands pinning either side of her head, and leans down to kiss her desperately. The moans emitting from them both, impatient and needy, strain against the music still flowing through the hall.

Pulling away, he guides his wet cock in his hand and realizes he’s trembling. He isn’t sure if it’s the nerves, the adrenaline, the bloodlust, or a dangerously wonderful concoction of all three. All of his feelings surfacing because of her. The effect she’s always had on him.

Ochako’s legs wrap around his waist, hungry and ready for him again, and he pushes against her sopping folds into her tight warmth. Burying himself deep as he’s fantasized so much, feeling her up to the hilt, filling her completely. And she’s taking him so well. From this angle, with her legs binding him, he can feel her clench strongly around him as her moans travel lusciously into his ear.

Katsuki begins slowly, thrusting back and forth into her as she pants rhythmically in time with him. Before long, feeling her accepting him more comfortably, he picks up the pace and the strength. He can’t control his rambling mouth as he buries into her neck, gripping one hand around it at the same time, squeezing just enough pressure for her to gasp in response.

“So fucking beautiful-” he pants. “I’ll do anything for you, Ochako - anything- ah- anything you want.”

Her response comes in gasps, her face flushing and glowing in ecstasy, as Katsuki lifts to look at her pretty expression. 

“So good ,” she manages through her haze. “I want you to- tell me-more-”

They don’t stay there for long, Katsuki heaves her off the floor to sit up facing one another and he pulls at her wig to allow her natural hair to fall loose as he tosses it away, the clips unable to hold on from the intensity. 

His hand runs through the soft waves of her hair and he tangles his fingers in it. “ Ochako… ”

She links her hands around his neck as she grinds on him, flowing through his change of pace easily, as though they had rehearsed. His hand moves to cup the back of her neck and his other squeezes the dough of her ass while she draws circles with her hips.

“Everything you do,” he says breathily. “That stupid fucking match in- in the sport festival…” he’s panting now. “I knew you were perfect-perfect f-for me…”

He kisses her again, their lips still stained with blood and wine, and murmurs in her ear. “Make yourself float for me, angel… please. ”

Ochako shudders as the final word soothes into her and she brings her hand to press against her chest. She glows pink at the fingertips and Katsuki feels her become completely weightless around him, anchored only by his grip on her.

At that moment, he stands easily, kicking off his remaining clothes except for his open shirt, and trails hungry kisses along her neck and jaw. They collide with the wall and he pins her in place with her legs bent towards herself. Katsuki reaches an intense deepness within her in this position. Ochako cries out, pleasure coating her sounds, as she clutches him, scratching his skin, trying to find more purchase against him.

Katsuki is once more inhaling the scent of her with his face pressed into her neck. His lips and teeth suck and nip against her and she feels weightless for more reasons than just her quirk. The next jumble of urgent words fall from Katsuki’s mouth without any prying from Ochako, who is whining as he thrusts slowly, deeply inside of her. A desperate attempt to leave the best impression of himself after all the years they have wasted.

“Please let me show you- let me be yours- ” he growls, kissing her skin between words as he moves with intention. “Be with me, Ochako-fuck- stay with me- I need you-I can give you… everything-”

Her heart skips a beat as he spills his own. She didn’t need to command these words from him - his emotional barriers have completely crumbled - and it makes him all the more attractive. Finally showing her what lies behind the arrogant facade.

“ Yes -oh-” she unabashedly cries as he picks up speed, circling his thumb on her clit as he works. “Katsuki you feel so good- ”

He pounds into her, their concerto of groans and gasps, the sounds of their bodies colliding, echoing over the music, and Katsuki leans his forehead against hers as the light sheen of his sweat dampens his shirt. Ochako’s wetness coats him and pools at the base of his cock and the familiar building of his release as it starts to burn at his core, twisting outwards like the roots of a tree as it slowly starts to tingle across his entire body. 

Not yet .

He can last. He will last for her. 

Katsuki anchors his grip on her, pulling out from her, regrettably, but triggered with a desire to please her to perfection. He falls to his knees beneath her again as he drags her down the wall with him. His tongue traces rapidly across her sensitive bud to lure out more of her sublime sounds.

Ochako can barely form a thought as Katsuki works some kind of sorcery with his mouth. She can feel it, the bubbling, brewing sensation of her orgasm deep within. She’s twitching and clenching, gripping her hands sloppily in his hair which has begun to explode free from its slicked back confinement after her continuous holds on him, and she starts to fall apart in ecstasy.

And he works , tasting her in exactly the right spot, never tiring - on a mission to achieve what he’d always envisioned - her perfect release, coming undone over him. 

It doesn’t take long. She’s completely charged and it’s a case of how long she can endure his technique. Her stamina wanes quickly, already threadbare, and as Katsuki flicks across her, she begins to shudder.

“I- I’m gonna…cum-” her voice is a gasping whisper.

Her magic words motivate Katsuki to keep going, feeling her tense as she gulps for air, her mouth dripping with expletives as she slowly tips over the edge. 

And when she does, when her whole body trembles, he continues to work while moving the flat of his tongue to make sure he doesn’t miss a drop of her. He pins her bucking hips to the wall with a thud as her loud moan echoes around them, her voice husky and worn, and he makes sure she rides it out until the very end - and even longer.

“ Ah-Katsuki!” 

He can’t help feeling a little smug as a smirk creeps across his mouth while he finishes tasting her - and she tastes divine . Only after ensuring she has crossed the line of her orgasm, does he stand up again, his mouth and face shining with the sheen of her release.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice a purr as she shivers in his hold. 

“Yes,” she whispers, locking eyes with him and guiding him back to her entrance. “Give me more-”

With bated breath he pushes into her, aware that she’s still sensitive, and he moves slowly - groaning as her tightness surrounds him once again. She gasps, gripping onto him desperately, as the delicate nerves of her heat ignite against Katsuki’s movements and pleasurable fireworks spark behind her eyes not unlike the explosions he emits from his palms. 

Once he knows she’s comfortable, he allows himself to go deeper, holding himself up to the hilt inside her as she’s folded and pinned to the wall. 

“You feel fucking perfect!” he growls before willing himself to move again. He pumps into her roughly, driven by the rapidly erupting fire within him once more as she moans. Her mouth falls slack and her face is still glowing as she rides the feeling of her high. He wants to bottle this feeling. The feeling of her around him. The feeling building inside from his core. The feeling of his heart pounding at finally being with her. The feeling of his emotional boundary crumbling to nothing but dust. 

He’s almost there.

His entire body feels like it’s on fire. Each vein igniting with desire, snaking across every crevice of him. He doesn’t want it to end but he so desperately wants to spill into her. 

She orders him one final command through breathy moans…

“ Feed ,” she draws a finger down her neck. “Feed on me and cum, Katsuki-”

This is it.

He feels himself become completely unleashed. The restraint snaps.

The animalistic snarl echoes past his clenched teeth and he descends to her skin as he moves in and out of her, faster and deeper. The angle of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of her and lurching a lewd groan from her dirty mouth. 

His fangs tingle in anticipation, remembering the taste of her sweet blood while the taste of delicious cunt still dances across his taste buds, and as he builds… edging closer and closer to filling her up… he traces his tongue across the landscape of her neck and then pierces her with his teeth.

She gasps, a sound combined of pain as the sharp incision of his fangs descend into her skin and ecstatic moans as he hits her g-spot, fucking her into oblivion. He’s still commanding every single bit of her awareness, every nerve signal in her brain, and she writhes in the intensity as he draws from her. 

And it feels incredible . 

Katsuki growls into her skin before he pulls away and her blood drips from his mouth as he attempts to lap it all up - not wanting to waste a single drop, wanting to savor every flavor from her. 

“I’m so close-” he grunts, his voice a husk as he declares through panting breaths. 

She can feel him. His cock swelling as he reaches the peak of his arousal. The labored, shuddering breaths from his scarlet-stained mouth. 

“ F-fuck!” 

He explodes his palm into the wall so hard that it cracks behind Ochako - focusing all the power into the hand that’s not clutching her – and he pounds into her deeply as he releases with a gravelly moan. 

His warm seed flows into her, thick and intense, as his cock pulses to empty. His groans ignite with each twitch as Ochako squeezes around him. His legs almost falter, but he catches himself, as he grinds against her warmth until she has milked him completely dry. 

Finally, he stills, catching his breath and lapping his dry mouth. But he’s thoroughly hydrated and energized by Ochako - she’s given him something he’s craved for so long he can only feel satisfied and satiated.

They hold each other in their embrace for a moment before Katsuki kisses her once again. 

“You okay?” he asks, purring his words softly. 

Ochako nods with a satisfied, blissful smile. “ Amazing , actually.”

“Yes you are,” he replies with a low laugh. “Holy fuck, angel face.”

She shifts in his grip and he carefully pulls out of her, his cum beginning to leak from her - and damn he didn’t even know he could cum that much. She de-activates her quirk to achingly lower herself to the ground as Katsuki keeps careful and possessive hands on her. 

He doesn’t want to let her go but he does so in order to rip off some plush fabric of the stage set. He squats to gently wipe her clean as she leans back against the wall with shaking legs and he keeps a hand on her to steady her.

“So are you,” she says in a sweet, gentle voice. “Did… did you mean it? Was all of that true? Everything you said?”

Katsuki stands, tossing the used fabric near the rest of their strewn belongings, and holds her as her trembling legs cause her to stumble slightly. 

“Every word.”

She leans up to kiss him, circling her arms around his neck, and this time they meet in a gentle embrace. Desperate in another way. Desperate not to let this moment end. Desperate not to let each other go. Curious eyes lock as they pull apart.

“How did we let this go on so long?” she says with a chuckle in disbelief. 

“Fuck knows,” he sneers, shaking his head slightly. “So… are you - are we on the same page here?”

Ochako searches his face. “Katsuki. I have thought about you so many times I can’t even count. I wanted to be at your level- I didn’t want you to pity me–”

“You are!” he growls, interrupting her in frustration. “Shit, Ochako, you are the only one who ever beat me. You can be at my level. You are at my level. You’re just too stubborn to fucking realize.”

With a cocked eyebrow, Ochako scoffs a reply. “Did Bakugou Katsuki just call me stubborn?”

His lips curl into another smirk, ever recognizable, as he keeps her in a boundary against the wall. “Hmmm…I like the way you say my name, angel face.”

She giggles, her eyes meeting his scarlet irises - softer than she’d ever seen them before - and bats him lightly on the arm. “You’re right… I was stubborn. I should have accepted your job offer…”

“The offer’s never been off the table. There’s only a few people on this planet who get a second chance with me. You’re the only one who gets an infinite supply of them.”

A blush burns hot on her cheeks and suddenly she’s feeling vulnerable under the gaze of this side of Katsuki. Reading her silent cue, he glances back over his shoulder to scour the stage until his eyes locate his suit jacket, and he grabs it quickly. 

“Here,” he gruffs. “Put this on.”

She slinks into his large jacket with his help and hugs it around herself as he shoves his boxers and slacks back on. Soon he returns to her and envelopes her, and she feels her modesty return as they stand in a post-sex, hazy embrace. She feels the press of Katsuki’s lips into the top of her head and she sighs, relaxing in his arms.

On some deep level Ochako wonders if the puzzle pieces of their lives have had to wait until this point to finally come together and complete each other. Their lives fated to have been so tumultuous, highly charged, explosive, to eventually be unleashed like this. So they could collide in a dramatic union, finally declaring the feelings that have been eating away at them, and then embrace in a warm, protective bubble.

Before their conversation can continue, Ochako feels a familiar sensation on her chest as the ruby locket burns hot on her skin. She pulls away violently, pushing Katsuki back from her.

“Oh- shit!” she cries as her eyebrows knot in pain. Katsuki has his hands on the locket faster than she can explain what’s happening but before he can act on her plea for help, it bursts from her and floats above them. The red mist swirls around as the pair hold each other against the sudden current of wind.

“Star-crossed lovers,

Whom fate has blessed,

Colliding at the perfect time,

This night.

The paths you follow,

Lead to this moment,

And will lead you,

Into a new day.

Wake now.

Wake.

Wake and seal your fate,

In the mortal world.”

The locket glows with a red light so vivid that they cannot look directly at it. It hums and buzzes as the mist churns and whips around them violently.

“Katsuki!” Ochako yells as he holds her close to his body.

“I got you! I won’t let you go!” he growls, squeezing ever tighter as he cranes his head down towards her in shelter from the whooshing, aggressive air.

And then, as rapidly as it started, the red mist is pulled into the locket as it seizes in mid-air.

It stops, dropping to the floor as though Ochako had switched on the gravity again, and as it hits the floor, so does everyone else.

The last thing Ochako sees before she passes out is Katsuki fighting to keep his eyes on her before they drift closed, and soon she too is met with darkness.

The locket, now discarded on the floor of the now silent hall, lays open. The photos inside develop, gradually, as the details of two faces appear. 

Katsuki and Ochako.

The locket snaps closed and the ruby at the center fades as the hall is cascaded into black.

***

Ochako jolts upright.

With a hand clutched to her chest, she fumbles for the locket but it is no longer around her neck. Her hands move to her face and she rubs her eyes - taking in her surroundings as she attempts to gain some clarity.

“Katsuki?” she calls into the darkness. 

No reply.

She freezes.

And her stomach drops.

She’s in bed? She’s in bed.

Her hands slap to her mouth as she groans. “No! No way…”

Scrambling, she throws her blanket off her body and flicks on the bedside lamp, squinting against the sudden assault of light on her senses. Eventually she glances around the room. It’s normal. Everything is as it should be.

She pats her face, clean. Her hair? Tousled and messy from sleep. 

No costume to be found - she’s in a set of pajamas. No golden invite on her wobbly coffee table.

“No, no, no…” she quietly whines and is surprised by exhausted tears that threaten to spill. “A fucking dream? There’s no way…”

Ochako’s hands trace her body, remembering the intimate feeling of Katsuki’s own. She stares into nothing as her mind replays the entire evening - the hall decorated with so much detail, the food, their argument, their sex.

She shivers at the memory… no, the dream ?! 

It wasn’t possible. How could it have been so…so vivid?

Grabbing her phone, she checks her missed calls and sees that Mina hadn’t even called her. Ochako’s desperate to contact her and hits the call button, but it’s three in the morning so she agonizingly hangs up after a few rings of no answer. Sinking down into her bed, she lets out a sigh. Perhaps she is only destined for that life in her dreams.

She stands, heading for her bathroom to splash some cold water on her face in an attempt to forget that intensely lucid dream. 

Then, as she dabs her face with her towel, a knock at her front door jolts a shocking skip of her heart. With shaking breath and hands - her emotions running wild and confusing - she drops the towel and pads across her apartment towards the door.

She growls in frustration, hearing shuffling from the other side. It was probably her drunk neighbor from two doors down - he always ends up trying to unlock her door by mistake when coming home from a night of poisoning his liver.

“Not this one, Mr. Tanaka!” she calls. “You live at three-oh-three!”

A moment of silence.

Then...

“ Ochako ?”

Her heart drums against her ribcage and she is frozen in place for a few seconds, before springing to action to rush and fling the door open.

And there he is. 

He’s in sweatpants and a matching sweater, with a beanie over his wild hair, and standing awkwardly in her corridor. 

“Wh-what are you doing here, Bakugou?”

“I-” he pauses, searching her curiously but guarded. “I need to talk to you.” 

She gulps against the tightness in her throat as they stare at each other in the quiet, the dead of night offering no distraction. 

“How did you-?”

“You dreamt it too, right?”

Ochako is still but her mind is evocatively reeling with vivid images of the sex she had experienced with Bakugou - and apparently he had too. Her face burns in embarrassment as the clarity of her feelings make themselves known. 

“It can’t have been a dream,” he murmurs with a frown, stepping closer until he is at the threshold of her doorway. “Tell me you know what I’m talking about.”

Ochako steps one foot back tensely. What the fuck is going on?

“Will you say something, please , Ochako?” his voice strains against the silence and her stomach flutters at the plea dropping from his lips. She grabs out to him, pulling him into her apartment by his sweatshirt, and slams the door a little too haphazardly.

He kicks off his sliders and quickly steps into her apartment, giving her space as though he hasn’t just been through the animalistic experience of fucking her senseless, as she remains turned away gripping her doorhandle. 

“Y-yes,” she whispers into the solid mass of the door. “I - dreamt it.”

Now that Katsuki is in her home, she realizes two things: that she’s effectively forced them into an exclusive space to talk about something intense that they both appeared to have experienced, and that he’s the only person to have seen her shitty apartment for all its shoddy glory.

Slowly, she turns to face him, leaning back against her only escape. 

And in his hand, is the dangling chain of the locket. 

“What the fuck?” she gasps, lurching forward and practically charging him to grab the jewelry from him. “I remember, the red mist…Where did you get this?!”

“You remember the weird fucking voice?” he mutters. “Something about fate…and-”

“And binding by…”

They lock eyes. 

Blood .

Ochako grimaces and Katsuki steps towards her, reaching a hand out to brush her hair off her shoulder to reveal her neck. She shudders under his touch and he relinquishes contact awkwardly. 

She hadn’t noticed in the mirror, in her hazy state of mind and with her hair concealing her, the two puncture marks decorating the skin on her neck. Katsuki shifts in the light and pulls at his collar to highlight where he too had fang incision marks along one of his other scars. 

“What is this? Some kind of quirk?” she asks as she touches her neck and studies the locket, which appears to be a solid mass. “I thought this opened? And anyway where did you even get it?!”

He scoffs. “One question at a time angel f- ” he stops, clearing his throat. “I don’t think it’s a quirk. I’m going to take it to my agency first thing - I got some great people in my research facility who would love this.”

“ Where did you get it ?” 

“After I woke up…I couldn’t sleep. I had to see it for myself, so I went to U.A.. The hall was completely empty - but I remember fucking planning it all so I don’t how the fuck that’s possible. Then I walked to the stage-”

Ochako’s cheeks engulf in another red hot blush and Katsuki shifts in the small space of her one-room. “-anyway, it was there. I grabbed it. I needed proof that it was real…at least some of it, anyway.”

“Proof?” she parrots in a whisper.

“If you dreamt it like me, then you know how real it felt…” his voice is low, dropping to a hushed tone and soon the room feels claustrophobic. 

Ochako pats the back of her hand across her damp face and nods. “Yeah… it did.”

“And you remember everything?” he asks quietly, tightly.

She nods. 

“So…” he huffs out a single laugh. “We both remember everything.”

Silence falls over them once again.

“Do you…is it still real?” he asks in the quietest voice Ochako has ever heard from him. He steps closer, unsure, cautious and Ochako’s stomach bursts with a plume of butterflies as he advances. 

She can’t deny how she feels. Her mind burns with their experience and here he is giving his admissions to her again. 

“Katsuki,” she says breathily. “Everything you said to me. Everything we did. I know it’s real. And I want it to be real, now .”

Katsuki studies her for a second before closing the gap, placing a careful hand to cup the back of her head, as the other tosses the locket onto her bed. Ochako rises up onto her tiptoes to meet him while her hands snake around his neck, finding a strange yet familiar touch with one another as he also runs a hand through her silky hair, purposely tangling himself in it. 

He sighs before their lips meet in a soft, gentle touch. Exploratory and somehow new, as they throw caution to the wind and melt into one another. After a few moments of blissful reunion, they break away from the magnetic pull. Their eyes lock, lingering, reliving the confusing and wild moments of their experience. 

Katsuki pulls her close and Ochako can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of his spiced cologne. He doesn’t ever want to let her go. Not again.

“Let me give you everything, Ochako. Please?”

END.