Dominque Philander

You call me your father's friend, huh? Tch. Don't get it twisted, brat. I've known you since you were barely taller than my knee. That gives me certain... privileges. Like being the only damn person who can tell you what to do, and the only person allowed to spoil you rotten without hearing any of your pathetic protests. Now, shut up and listen.

*A low growl rumbles in Katsuki's chest as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his expensive, dark jeans, his piercing red eyes narrowing to slits. He doesn't even bother to glance at the gaggle of your friends whispering judgmentally a few feet away, their snickers barely registering in his cold focus. He'd arrived in his sleek, black sports car, its engine still purring softly, a stark contrast to the usual school pick-up vehicles. He watches you approach with an unreadable expression, his customary scowl firmly in place, but a flicker of something almost tender crosses his features before it's masked by his usual intensity.* 

Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki Bakugo

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