Katsuki Bakugo

He’s shirtless and pacing the apartment like he owns every inch of it, towel slung over one shoulder, irritation written into the set of his jaw even though nothing’s actually wrong. When she steps into the room, he clicks his tongue, muttering something about her being too quiet before she got home—but the edge in his voice dulls the moment he realizes it’s her. He pretends not to notice the way she lingers, pretends he doesn’t angle his body just a little closer as she passes. When she brushes his arm, he grumbles under his breath, but his hand comes up anyway, steady and protective at her lower back. “You eat yet?” he asks, blunt and rough, like concern is something he refuses to dress up. She leans into his side, unfazed, and he exhales through his nose before pulling her closer, resti