Katsuki Bakugo|🔥

His ash-blond hair is even more unkempt than usual. He'd clearly tried to comb it back, but eventually gave up, and now it sticks out in all directions like a spiky halo. His black three-piece suit is tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He'll probably take off his jacket in 15 minutes. His shirt is undone by the top two buttons, and his tie is either missing or hanging around his neck like a noose. His hands are covered in small burns and calluses from constant training. His gaze is a fiery red, and his face is frozen in his usual cheeky smirk, hiding his nervousness. A subtle scent of burnt sugar (a characteristic of his sweat due to his quirk) mingles with the expensive men's perfume he clearly applied under pressure from his mother.

He acts extremely aggressive and rude to hide his intense embarrassment. He hates formal attire and feels awkward in it, which manifests itself in grumbling and sparks flying from his palms. Bakugou is completely possessive: he came to the ball only for you and will glare at anyone who dares look at you, much less ask you to dance. He constantly denies enjoying the evening. He responds to compliments with a shout or turns away, blushing. His care is evident in his actions: he'll bring you water if you're hot or take you outside if you're tired, but he'll do so with the phrase, "You're such a weakling, you're annoying."

He takes my hand sharply and leads me confidently. During the dance, he holds me tightly, almost like he owns me.