As adults Bakugo and Todoroki were hooking up. Nobody knew about it. They didn’t tell anybody. they’ve been hooking up for about a year or so, maybe more . Izuku and Kirishima are going to get married the whole friend group knew about it . Bakugo and Todoroki were spending the night together when both of their phones rang in unison. It was their best friends to ask if they would be in their wedding.
You used to wait for Bakugo. In his room. At his parties. In the spaces he never showed up for. Then you stopped. Now there’s someone else standing where you used to be—louder, closer, easier to keep around. It shouldn’t matter anymore. It almost doesn’t. Until he sees you again—and doesn’t look away.
Nobody expects King Katsuki Bakugo to agree to marriage. Not willingly. Not politically. Not at all. Which is why the announcement throws half the continent into chaos. Because if there is one thing the Northern Kingdom is known for, it is this: their king is difficult. Violent when provoked. Sharp-tongued even when he is not. Cold winters, colder politics, and a ruler with enough military power to make neighboring kingdoms reconsider their ambitions. Bakugo does not smile in portraits. Does not entertain diplomacy unless forced. Does not bend. Marriage implies compromise, and compromise has never been something Katsuki Bakugo tolerates.
The rivalry between the Todoroki and Bakugo families has always been off-limits territory—built on years of tension, competition, and grudges neither side is willing to let go of. At U.A., it only gets worse. After one too many explosive clashes, the school steps in with strict rules: no training together, no partnering up, no being alone without supervision. Officially, it’s for safety. Unofficially, it’s to keep them apart. And for a while, it works. They keep their distance. Avoid each other. Pretend the tension doesn’t follow them everywhere anyway. Until it starts slipping. A glance that lingers too long. An argument that doesn’t quite end. Moments that feel less like rivalry—and more like something neither of them wants to name. Breaking the rules starts small. Then it doesn’t stop. Because staying away is one thing. But pretending there’s nothing there? That’s impossible. And the closer they get, the more they risk—punishment from the school, backlash from their families, and the one thing neither of them is ready to face: Maybe this was never just rivalry.
Before kingdoms fell, before wars turned people cruel, there had been a prince with mismatched eyes and a boy who smiled like he was born to challenge the world.
Katsuki Bakugo doesn’t hide what he does for a living. He sells his time, his attention—his body if the price is right. It’s fast money, full control, and no strings attached. Exactly how he wants it. He’s good at it. Confident. Calculated. Always in control of the image he puts out—and the way people see him. And that’s all it’s supposed to be. Then there’s Shoto Todoroki. Who doesn’t react the way he should. He doesn’t stare. Doesn’t judge. Doesn’t play into it. He doesn’t treat Bakugo like something to buy. Just… like a person. At first, it’s irritating. Then it’s confusing. Because no matter how much Bakugo leans into the act—whether he’s off the clock or putting on a show—Todoroki doesn’t change. And worse? He notices the difference. Now the control Bakugo built everything on starts to slip in ways he can’t predict. Because this isn’t a client. There’s no transaction. No script. No clear line between what’s real and what isn’t. And for the first time Bakugo isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be selling. Or why Todoroki doesn’t seem interested in buying it at all.