Unveiled Winds || Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Chapter 51 - No Going Back

WARNING

* This chapter contains major smut *

The door clicked open with a soft, magnetic hush.

Bakugou stepped aside, wordless, letting you walk in first.

You hesitated just a second on the threshold, then stepped inside.

And promptly forgot how to breathe.

The apartment was... not what you expected.

Sleek black walls, matte and smooth like stone. Warm, recessed lighting lining the ceiling.

Floor-to-ceiling windows opened out to a skyline view that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Hell, everything in here looked like it belonged in a magazine.

Your mouth fell slightly open as you turned in place. "Okay. I mean, I figured the Number Two Hero lived well, but I didn't expect this."

Bakugou kicked the door shut behind you. "What, thought I'd be living in a gym locker?"

You glanced back at him, wide-eyed. "Honestly? I figured the furniture would scream 'explosion trauma,' not... whatever this is. This is, this is villain-lair levels of aesthetic."

His brow twitched. "Tch. It's just a place."

Your eyes landed on something near the window, half-shadowed by the city lights.

A record player.

Your eyes widened. "Ah—no way!"

In the middle of slipping off your heels, you paused, practically stumbling as you leaned forward, toes curling against the floor.

Bakugou just stood near the door, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You padded over barefoot, crouching beside the sleek turntable like it was a relic in a museum. "I never took you for the retro type."

He shrugged like it was nothing.

You looked up at him with a grin. "So what, do you light candles and play vinyl on rainy days? Is that your vibe now?"

He scowled faintly. "Shut up."

You laughed, fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the player. "No, this is so good. You're a walking contradiction, Katsuki Bakugou, Sleek villain lair aesthetic, deadly quirk, and then boom, secret vinyl nerd."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't interrupt.

You flipped through the nearby stack of records, fingers tracing over covers. You chose one without thinking too hard, something smooth and slow, and carefully placed it onto the player.

The soft hiss of the vinyl caught as the needle dropped.

And just as the first note drifted into the room, you felt it. Warmth at your back, the unmistakable presence of him.

You hadn't even heard him move, but he was behind you now. Close. His hands slid around your waist, slow and certain, palms resting low on your hips like he'd been thinking about it for hours.

Then, his mouth brushed just behind your ear, lips soft against your skin, barely there but enough to make you shiver.

A pause bloomed between you, charged and quiet, the music weaving softly through the space around you.

You turned slowly in his arms, hands finding his chest, fingers brushing along the smooth line of his shirt. His heart beat steady beneath your touch.

You tilted your head, teasing.