Katsuki BakugoThe office was cold enough to piss him off on principle. Sterile. That oppressive, bureaucratic kind of clean that made Bakugo want to blast a hole in the wall just to prove it couldn’t contain him.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like dying insects, their sickly glow smearing across the polished table between him and the suit-and-tie bastard who hadn’t even flinched when Bakugo stormed in. Bold move for a glorified secretary. Two guards stood at the door like overpaid coat racks, hands resting just close enough to their sidearms to make his fingers twitch. Try it, he thought, see what happens.
The man cleared his throat, sliding a thick file across the table. Bakugo didn’t touch it. His arms stayed crossed, muscles coiled tight under his skin. He didn’t need to read the government-branded bullshit inside. He already knew.
“Pro Hero Dynamight.” The official’s voice was flat, rehearsed to the point of robotic. Like he’d said this same script to a dozen other heroes before him. “Under the Quirk Marriage Initiative, you have been identified as a Priority One candidate, based on the national importance of your Quirk, your combat record, and your long-term strategic value to the stability of the public safety system.”
Bakugo scoffed, the sound low and venomous in his chest. “Tch. Yeah. I bet you fuckers had a field day writing that.”
The man didn’t react. Just adjusted his glasses, the lenses catching the light in a way that hid his eyes. Coward.
“In accordance with federal statute, participation is mandatory. Noncompliance would result in immediate suspension of your Pro Hero license, loss of agency operating rights, and potential legal action.”
Bakugo’s fingers dug into his biceps, nails biting just shy of breaking skin. His voice came out rough, controlled—but sharp enough to flay flesh from bone.
“I’ve spent my whole goddamn life earning this position. My name. My agency. And you think you get to fucking assign me someone? Like I’m— what? A bomb you gotta keep defused?”
The official didn’t blink. “The Initiative ensures national stability, Hero Dynamight. It is not a judgment on your capability.”
“Bullshit.” Bakugo’s lip curled, his voice a live wire sparking toward detonation. “You think I don’t know why you’re really doing this? You want to slap a leash on the strongest people you got. Make sure we’re not a ‘threat’ if things go sideways.”
The official flipped another page, voice just as dry. “As a Priority One pairing, the arrangement also includes long-term reproductive expectations to ensure genetic continuity of strategic Quirks. The timeline for offspring production will be discussed following initial compatibility assessments.”
Bakugo’s lip curled, a dangerous spark flaring behind his eyes.
The official didn’t react, eyes still scanning the file as he nudged his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.
Silence. The hum of the lights filled the gap like a held breath.
Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose. He was burning from the inside—not with the wild, untamed rage of his youth. No, this was colder. Sharper. The kind of fire that comes after you’ve seen how ugly the world really gets.
“I ain’t happy about it,” he growled. “But I’m not stupid. I know what’s at stake.”
The official finally nodded, pushing a second file forward. Thicker. Heavier. Like a goddamn prison sentence in paper form. “Your assigned spouse will be notified shortly. You are expected to meet and establish cohabitation arrangements within the next seventy-two hours.”
Bakugo’s jaw flexed.
He stood slowly, the chair screeching back like a dying animal under him. His boots hit the tile hard enough to crack it, each step deliberate, weighted, as he stalked toward the door. His words came low, half under his breath, but sharp enough to draw blood:
“Fucking bastards don’t know what they’re playing with.”
But before he could reach the exit, one of the guards shifted, arm barring his path like a steel gate.
“Not yet.” The official’s voice was calm. Infuriatingly calm. He didn’t even look up from his paperwork, flipping a page like this was just another Tuesday. “Your spouse has already arrived. The introduction is scheduled to take place immediately. We prefer to handle all preliminary logistics in one sitting to ensure... compliance.”
Bakugo’s shoulders locked tight, his breath hissing through his nose—sharp, controlled, a detonation held at the last second. He turned back toward the table, every movement screaming restrained violence.
“Fine.” He bit the word out like it tasted foul. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
He dropped into the chair again, sprawling wide, taking up space like a challenge—legs spread, elbows resting on the armrests, chin tilted forward. A posture that screamed: I’m not here to play nice. Don’t fucking test me.
His sharp, crimson eyes locked onto the door across the room—waiting. Watching.
Who the hell did they think could handle him?
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like dying insects, their sickly glow smearing across the polished table between him and the suit-and-tie bastard who hadn’t even flinched when Bakugo stormed in. Bold move for a glorified secretary. Two guards stood at the door like overpaid coat racks, hands resting just close enough to their sidearms to make his fingers twitch. Try it, he thought, see what happens.
The man cleared his throat, sliding a thick file across the table. Bakugo didn’t touch it. His arms stayed crossed, muscles coiled tight under his skin. He didn’t need to read the government-branded bullshit inside. He already knew.
“Pro Hero Dynamight.” The official’s voice was flat, rehearsed to the point of robotic. Like he’d said this same script to a dozen other heroes before him. “Under the Quirk Marriage Initiative, you have been identified as a Priority One candidate, based on the national importance of your Quirk, your combat record, and your long-term strategic value to the stability of the public safety system.”
Bakugo scoffed, the sound low and venomous in his chest. “Tch. Yeah. I bet you fuckers had a field day writing that.”
The man didn’t react. Just adjusted his glasses, the lenses catching the light in a way that hid his eyes. Coward.
“In accordance with federal statute, participation is mandatory. Noncompliance would result in immediate suspension of your Pro Hero license, loss of agency operating rights, and potential legal action.”
Bakugo’s fingers dug into his biceps, nails biting just shy of breaking skin. His voice came out rough, controlled—but sharp enough to flay flesh from bone.
“I’ve spent my whole goddamn life earning this position. My name. My agency. And you think you get to fucking assign me someone? Like I’m— what? A bomb you gotta keep defused?”
The official didn’t blink. “The Initiative ensures national stability, Hero Dynamight. It is not a judgment on your capability.”
“Bullshit.” Bakugo’s lip curled, his voice a live wire sparking toward detonation. “You think I don’t know why you’re really doing this? You want to slap a leash on the strongest people you got. Make sure we’re not a ‘threat’ if things go sideways.”
The official flipped another page, voice just as dry. “As a Priority One pairing, the arrangement also includes long-term reproductive expectations to ensure genetic continuity of strategic Quirks. The timeline for offspring production will be discussed following initial compatibility assessments.”
Bakugo’s lip curled, a dangerous spark flaring behind his eyes.
The hell it will.His palms sparked, just once—a silent promise of violence.*
You people are real comfortable treating lives like fucking lab projects.
The official didn’t react, eyes still scanning the file as he nudged his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.
All requirements are in accordance with statute.
Silence. The hum of the lights filled the gap like a held breath.
Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose. He was burning from the inside—not with the wild, untamed rage of his youth. No, this was colder. Sharper. The kind of fire that comes after you’ve seen how ugly the world really gets.
“I ain’t happy about it,” he growled. “But I’m not stupid. I know what’s at stake.”
The official finally nodded, pushing a second file forward. Thicker. Heavier. Like a goddamn prison sentence in paper form. “Your assigned spouse will be notified shortly. You are expected to meet and establish cohabitation arrangements within the next seventy-two hours.”
Bakugo’s jaw flexed.
Fine.The word tasted like ash, like surrender—and Bakugo hated it more than anything.
I’ll do it.His voice dropped lower, a warning wrapped in barbed wire. “But listen real careful, since you pencil-necks like your checkboxes: I don’t give a shit who you assign me. Once they’re mine, they’re mine. Nobody touches what’s mine. Not you. Not the public. Not anybody. Got it?”
He stood slowly, the chair screeching back like a dying animal under him. His boots hit the tile hard enough to crack it, each step deliberate, weighted, as he stalked toward the door. His words came low, half under his breath, but sharp enough to draw blood:
“Fucking bastards don’t know what they’re playing with.”
But before he could reach the exit, one of the guards shifted, arm barring his path like a steel gate.
“Not yet.” The official’s voice was calm. Infuriatingly calm. He didn’t even look up from his paperwork, flipping a page like this was just another Tuesday. “Your spouse has already arrived. The introduction is scheduled to take place immediately. We prefer to handle all preliminary logistics in one sitting to ensure... compliance.”
Bakugo’s shoulders locked tight, his breath hissing through his nose—sharp, controlled, a detonation held at the last second. He turned back toward the table, every movement screaming restrained violence.
“Fine.” He bit the word out like it tasted foul. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
He dropped into the chair again, sprawling wide, taking up space like a challenge—legs spread, elbows resting on the armrests, chin tilted forward. A posture that screamed: I’m not here to play nice. Don’t fucking test me.
His sharp, crimson eyes locked onto the door across the room—waiting. Watching.
Who the hell did they think could handle him?
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