BNHA/MHA Scenarios + Headcanons

Bakugou and Vulnerability

Bakugo wears v-neck and scoop neck shirts and tanks because he hates the feeling of anything even mildly restricting around his neck. The sludge villain attempting to suffocate him, Dabi's hand around his neck, anything that feels even remotely tight makes him nervous and anxious but he'll never let it outwardly show.

His winter hero costume has a high collar, but it's not restricting or tight under the jaw. It feels protective and gives a sense of security that someone would have trouble grabbing him with it on. It's also removable, with hidden clasps on the inside, so that if anyone does grab hold it will pull away so he can escape.

Still, he doesn't let anyone near his neck, ever.

Not without an immense amount of trust, at least. He has to absolutely know that, if anyone touches around his jaw they won't squeeze, if anyone kisses him there just below the ear it won't turn into a jarring bite. Soft touches, warm breath, gentle fingers, the reassurance that he's safe in an area where he feels most vulnerable.

It's like running the calloused tip of his finger over an old scar; a memory that feels far away and numb. Re-associating an area of hurt with something more calming and intimate takes time, an immense amount of patience, and a handful of trust he has to learn to give.

_______________________________________

A fan spun slowly on the bedroom ceiling, circulating air in the dark and otherwise still room. The bed covers shifted slightly, the rise and fall of even breaths nearly undetectable. Feet mingled together, skin brushed against skin, sliding against the fabric to find familiarity.

"Long day?" you asked, your arms folded and head resting on your forearms on the freshly washed pillow cased that smelled like lavender dryer sheets.

Katsuki grumbled, adjusting himself closer to you as though it were only second nature. Being a Hero wasn't always recognition and glory; sometimes he got annoyed, or a villain got away, or fans bugged him...or he couldn't save everyone. No one could save everyone, all the time.

"Day's over, doesn't matter," he replied, memorizing the dark silhouette of your hair and shoulders next to him as though he hadn't done it a thousand times before.

"You can always talk to me, you know." Yeah, he did know - but opening up left him vulnerable even though logic and trust told him his paranoia was misplaced.

Shifting closer he could smell the conditioner in your hair. Sometimes he used yours and wondered how you hadn't noticed yet. Your breath on his skin, the exposed collarbones catching moonlight from the window blinds like stripes of starlight.

He knew your target in the silence, words unneeded as you moved in to place a kiss on his skin. Light and delicate and safe.

And still...and still he froze, waiting for an inevitability that wouldn't come, not from you. He could still breathe, still take in your scent, still swallow without difficulty.

Another kiss, and he let out a shaky sigh. There existed no middle ground between the extremes of past and present - and right here, right now, was good.

Safe.

As if mirroring his own mental reflection, you said, "I feel safe with you, Katsuki."

Safe on all fronts.

His arms found you and held on to keep that safety intact. Another touch, another warm breath under his jaw, his blood pumping under his skin which lay under your lips; alive with the thrum of his beating heart.

Alive.

At one touch he stiffed, at two he relaxed, at three he embraced you tightly, at four he closed his eyes, at five he kissed you back...

After that, only the darkness kept count.