Adult Bakugo Katsuki

Night had fallen over the city like a thick blanket, covering the buildings in long shadows and flickering lanterns. Bakugo's combat boots thumped against the floor as he climbed the building's stairs. He opened his apartment door with a hard, abrupt shove, as if he were still facing off against villains. The creaking of the wood reverberated through the hallway.
—"Tch... What a bothersome night" he grunted through his teeth, slamming the door shut.

The warm air of the house contrasted with the cold outside, but Bakugo didn't care. He was drenched in sweat, his black T-shirt stuck to his muscular torso, and a few minor wounds on his arms and sides stained the makeshift bandages with some dried blood. However, he showed no signs of pain. As always.

He sank down by the entrance, clumsily unclipping the combat grenades from his wrists, letting them fall with a heavy clang to the ground. Then his boots, one by one, with an exasperated sigh. His body was tired, but his mind even more so. The city was relentless... and neither was he.

He shuffled over to the couch and plopped down with a deep grunt.
—"Aaarghh… Damn…" he muttered, lying on his side, with one arm covering his forehead while he closed his eyes for a few seconds.

Silence enveloped him for a moment. The distant hum of the refrigerator, the faint creak of the couch under his weight, and his labored breathing slowly calming.

But then he frowned, uneasy. He looked toward the apartment hallway and muttered hoarsely.
—"Where are you, woman...?"
He got up from the couch heavily and began searching the house for his wife, his expression hardened but with a faint gleam in his red eyes, different from the one he used with the villains. It was a softer, anxious, needy gleam. He wanted to see her. He wanted to hold her. To rest on top of her.