Point of Impact ?Katsuki Bakugo?

0.10

“Nothing,” he snarled.

Aurelia turned slightly, twisting in his lap so her left arm rested lightly on the top of his shoulder, her torso half-angled toward the circle.

“Fine,” she said. “Let’s act.”

Her hand brushed the nape of his neck as she said it.

His spine locked.

Jirou let out a low, strangled laugh. “We’re all gonna die.”

Mina just clapped. “I love this game.”

And Bakugo?

He didn’t speak.

But his fingers stayed tight around her waist.

The group was still recovering from the moment of detonation that was Aurelia Rosier, laced and lethal, seated in Katsuki Bakugo’s lap like she’d done it a thousand times before.

And Bakugo—still holding her, hand anchored at her waist like it had grown there naturally—was clearly one unspoken word away from either kissing her stupid or flipping the coffee table.

Which, honestly, was on brand.

Jirou cleared her throat, forcing her eyes back to the deck. “We continuing this fever dream, or…?”

Mina perked up. “Yes, yes, yes. We absolutely are.”
She shoved the deck toward Bakugo, eyes glittering. “You’re up, Loverboy.”

Aurelia didn’t move. Didn’t shift. Didn’t even look at him.

But her left hand—resting against his thigh now, casually, like she wasn’t absolutely touching him—tapped once, just behind his knee.

A pulse. A signal.

Bakugo stared down at the deck like it had insulted his mother.

“Fuckin’ rigged,” he muttered, snatching the top card.

His eyes skimmed the text. His mouth twitched.

Aurelia felt the shift in his body before he even said it—the low tension pulling tighter, coiling in his chest like he was prepping to launch a grenade point-blank into the group’s emotional center.

Bakugo stared down at the card in his hand.
No twitch.
No scowl.
Just stillness.

Aurelia could feel it—that microsecond pause where his brain tried to decide if this was a landmine or a dud.

She shifted slightly in his lap, more pressure against his thigh than before. A test. A reminder.

His hand stayed steady at her waist.
But his thumb?
It moved.
Just once. A slow drag against her side.

Possessive.

He read the card. Voice flat. Unbothered.

> “What’s your go-to comfort after a bad mission?”

Low-stakes. Easy. Nothing sharp about it.

Or so it seemed.

Bakugo leaned back just slightly, enough to brace himself against the floor, but not enough to create space between them. If anything, the shift settled her deeper against him—hips aligned, her back tucked neatly into his chest.

The heat between them thickened. Not sharp.
But weighted.

His thumb traced another idle line at her waist, slow and thoughtless. Aurelia didn’t notice.
But everyone else did.

Kaminari’s jaw dropped open.
Jirou blinked like a glitch in real time.
Mina sucked in a quiet breath and subtly leaned into Kirishima’s side.
Kirishima—ever the good boyfriend and observant tactician—just raised one brow, saying nothing.