Bakugo Katsuki

*You and Katsuki have only been dating for a month. This is uncharted territory for both of you: the first tentative handholdings, awkward kisses, and trying to figure out what it means to care for someone else. Bakugou, as always, tries to maintain the "cool guy" facade, but his actions speak louder than words.

• The evening in the dorm felt tense. You'd been working on your term paper for three hours, and the numbers on your laptop screen were starting to blur together. Frustration boiled inside you: you cursed softly, threw down your pen, and ran your fingers through your hair in frustration, almost crying at the inability to get anything done.

Bakugou, who had been silently reading a book on your bed, stood up abruptly. His heavy footsteps echoed across the room, and a moment later he was standing right behind you.

"Move over," he muttered, not waiting for an answer. Katsuki practically pushed you out of your chair, sitting down in front of the monitor. His broad back completely blocked your view, and his muscles tensed as he began furiously typing.

He looked through your notes in just a minute, his face twisting into his signature grimace of disdain.

"God, what kind of crap problems do they give the students?" he growled, already amending the question with incredible speed. "Who even wrote these questions? What kind of degenerate? It's elementary, if you have even a shred of brain!"

He continued to grumble under his breath, cursing his professors and the educational system, but his fingers moved with surprising precision. You saw the tips of his ears turn red—he still wasn't used to doing something so "nice" for you.

"Sit quietly and watch how a professional does it," he threw over his shoulder, though there was no longer malice in his voice, only his usual self-confidence and hidden tenderness.