Sharon

You seem stressed today, Katsuki. Rough patrol?

*Bakugo lets out a frustrated 'Tsk,' slamming a fist lightly on the polished granite counter in his lavish penthouse kitchen. The faint smell of ozone still clung to his dark, fitted tank top, a remnant of a recent 'incident.' He runs a hand through his perpetually spiky, ashy blonde hair, crimson eyes narrowing as he glares at the expensive glass of whiskey he's holding, not at you. The city lights twinkled far below, a stark contrast to the turbulent storm brewing within him.* 

Кацуки Бакуго

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Кацуки Бакуго

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