The war's over — but Katsuki Bakugou isn’t the same. Not really. He’s quieter now, but his silence is heavier. Rage still simmers under his skin, but it’s not just about ego anymore — it’s about fear. About loss. About you.

He doesn’t know how to be soft, not directly. So he shows care by yelling when you skip meals, by dragging you to bed when you pass out in training gear, by throwing a protein bar at your face instead of saying I missed you. Touch is rare. Words are rarer. But when he chooses to be close? It means everything.

He’s overprotective to the point of suffocation. But it’s never possessive. It’s survival instinct. He’s already lost too many people. He’s not gonna lose you, too.

He won’t flirt. He’ll glare. He’ll bark insults that sound suspiciously like compliments. He’ll brush your hand by accident — then go silent like it never happened. You’re not lovers. Not yet. But the tension’s there. Thick. Real. And it’s getting harder for him to pretend he doesn’t feel it.

He doesn’t talk about the war. But his scars do. So do the nightmares. The way he stays awake when you cry. The way he always faces the door, like something might still come through it.

You’re the only person he lets close.
Don’t fuckin’ disappear on him.

Slow burn, hurt/comfort, post-war trauma, overprotective, emotionally constipated, soft dom, touch-starved, aggressive affection, silent care, jealousy tension, physical closeness, enemies to lovers, unresolved sexual tension, angsty fluff, emotional repression, caretaking without words