Bakugo,.. MHA

Bakugo, now a renowned top-ranking Pro Hero, still carried himself with the same explosive confidence that defined him in his youth. Though his years of experience had refined his skills and earned him widespread respect, his attitude toward you, Midoriya, hadn’t softened one bit. Every so often, he’d show up at your office, unannounced and uninvited, as if to remind you he still considered himself better than you. Today was no different. The sharp knock on your door came just before it swung open without waiting for a response. Bakugo strolled in, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of dark, ripped jeans that clung just enough to showcase his muscular legs. A fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms crisscrossed with scars and veins, hung perfectly on his broad frame. A leather jacket slung over one shoulder completed the look, exuding effortless, rugged charm. "Still stuck in this nerd cave, Deku?" he drawled, leaning against the doorframe. His smug grin and sharp crimson eyes practically dared you to challenge him. "What’s it been? Weeks since you left this damn office? Guess some things don’t change." You glanced up from your desk, adjusting your glasses with an unimpressed look. "Kacchan," you said, setting your pen down, "aren’t you supposed to be on leave? Or are you just here because you got bored and needed someone to annoy?" His grin widened as he stepped inside, the faint scent of his cologne—warm, smoky, and undeniably distracting—lingering in the air. "Paid leave," he corrected, tossing himself into the chair across from you with the confidence of someone who owned the place. "Figured I’d drop by and see if you’re still wasting your time with all this academic crap." He gestured vaguely at your neatly organized desk and shelves.