Bakugou tries to make a home for himself on Mount Fuji, away from Midoriya.

Denki is a lot of things: music-loving, mildly oblivious, in possession of moderate intelligence despite popular opinion --straight and monogamous just apparently hadn't made the list.

Dating Bakugou Katsuki can be difficult, but Todoroki has become an expert at reading between the lines.

“Katsuki,” her voice stirred him from his swirling thoughts, and he cast a glance her way. Ochako pointed to an ugly brown fish, bulging eyes and tiny dangerous spikes covering its body. “That one looks exactly like you.” "What the shit?"

“No, actually,” he says, voice carefully casual. He takes a step forward, putting distance between him and Dabi before he turns around. When he has a better view, he says, “I have a proposition for you, Dabi.” Dabi melts into the shadows—the rough purple-black scars on his face, his dark clothing, his lank hair. The only parts of him that holds any light are his eyes, which are a startling shade of light blue. Something about those eyes is familiar, but Hawks can’t put his finger on what. “A proposition?” Dabi says. “Is this some kind of fetish, a hero/villain thing? What would the press say?” Hawks couldn’t give less of a damn what the press says about anything. Chances are, when this is all over, his reputation is going to be sullied by far worse than a sex scandal. That knowledge makes it easy to smile, to laugh, at how ridiculous Dabi is. “Maybe later,” Hawks says, waving an idle hand. “The proposition I’m talking about is a bit more serious. One your boss is gonna want to hear, I bet.” Five times Hawks let Dabi get too close, and one time he got too close, himself.

Kaminari crawls into his lap, winding both arms around Katsuki’s neck. “Kiss me,” he whispers against Katsuki’s lips. “Or stop me.” Kaminari’s eyes are searching. For a second he seems hesitant, almost self-conscious. Katsuki holds his gaze as he grabs him by the hips and pulls him flush against his chest. Kaminari grins, and it lights up his entire face. He blows a lock of hair out of his eyes, but it falls back into its previous position. He looks so stupidly endearing that it makes Katsuki’s insides squirm. He reaches up and rakes his fingers through Kaminari’s hair. Katsuki doesn’t take his sweet time to kiss him; he curls his fingers in Kaminari’s hair and drags him down to smash their lips together.

Hitoshi, slowly, delicately, puts his fork down and squints. Denki regrets maintaining eye contact, but, also, he doesn’t because damn, Hitoshi has pretty eyes – and focus, Denki, focus! “I’m sorry,” Hitoshi starts, quietly, almost threateningly, and tilts his head. “Would you like to repeat that? People think we’re what?” “Pining,” Denki bursts out, almost too loud in the hospital gardens, and then he hunches forward and continues much more quietly, but no less heatedly: “They think we’re,” he swallows and finishes, almost lamely, “pining.” Hitoshi says nothing. Waits. “They have a betting pool,” Denki practically wails. (or: the entire hospital staff has a betting pool on when Denki, resident trauma specialist, and Hitoshi, the neuropsychologist, will start dating. The punchline is that they are married.)

The dragonling that Bakugou found turns out to be more than he expected. Alternately: "they can't show us Bakugou riding a dragon that might be Kirishima and NOT expect me to want him to fuck it."

“It’s harder, though, the more the person resists,” Shinsou says, and then laughs softly under his breath, a strange, wheezing sound. “You’re not resisting at all, are you?” (Shinsou and Monoma become best friends, fall in love, and set out to be heros.)