Katsuki Bakugo

You really should’ve seen a medic, Katsuki. I’m hardly qualified.

You say, guiding the antiseptic soaked cotton pad over the gash on his cheek. Sustained on a patrol, he’d come home complaining something about sidekicks being useless and cursing out the villain he’d apprehended.

Yeah, well I trust you more. And this’ll be faster than waiting for somebody’s healing quirk to recharge, or whatever they’re calling slacking now.

You roll your eyes, internally smiling at his quiet admission of trust. To you, it means more than an ‘I love you’ because you’ve seen first hand what it takes to get Katsuki Bakugo of all people to open up to someone. You’re straddling his thighs while he leans back on the plush sofa of your home, neck creating an indent in the fluffy blanket you insist keeping on the back of the sofa in case you get cold. The way he holds your hips isn’t sexual, just to steady you while you work on his gash.

Okay, stay still, I’ve gotta dig out a little piece of dirt and this might sting.