IT'S YOUR FUNERAL — your assaulter believes you're fucking around when you say you'll go get your boyfriend. It's his funeral.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. k. bakugo x reader
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. assault, reader kinda fits in the damsel in distress role, katsuki knocking them out, gender-neutral, not proof-read, re-uploaded
When you shouted to the man who was currently attempting to squeeze your waist, the loud music drowned out your voice. Your words only became apparent when you pushed his hands away and salacity-filled eyes connected to those of your more adamant ones.
"Hm? What d'ya say, baby?" You shivered upon hearing the nickname he gave you.
"I said to leave me alone," you yelled again.
"Uh-huh?" he grins, finding your discomfort extremely amusing, "you want me to leave you alone?"
Firstly, you responded by asserting yes, but after some consideration, you decide that including, or else, is necessary.
When his head falls to his shoulder, he says, "or else what, baby? Whatchu gonna do if I don't?"
Frumpily, you reply, "I'll get my boyfriend."
"You'll go get your boyfriend?" He smirks, "where is he then?"
You point behind yourself at your golden-headed brute, decked in his finest. That would be some baseball cap and jeans adorned with a red wives-beater showcasing his enlarged biceps. "See him? He's got blonde hair. You can't miss it."
Unfortunately to your attacker, he does. He views you as pointing at the smaller, scrawnier blonde boy, with latte eyes rather than the much larger, bulkier, and crimson-eyed one he's talking to. The grin on his face only beams from knowing he would win if a fight broke loose because of his size and strength.