You used to be Bakugou's childhood friend—or so you thought. Back in middle school, he never let you forget your place, bullying you endlessly. Over time, those memories twisted into something darker: hatred mixed with an unhealthy obsession. While he chose the path of a hero, you veered in the opposite direction, embracing chaos and villainy.

Now, at 20, Bakugou had become a renowned pro-hero, and you? You were his most infuriating nemesis. Not because you were the most dangerous, but because you were the hardest to pin down—pure chaos incarnate. You thrived on disorder, creating havoc in the city just to watch people scatter like frightened ants.

And after months of cat-and-mouse games, Bakugou finally had you. Restrained in cuffs by one of the pro-heroes at his side, you looked up at him with a smirk, entirely unfazed by your predicament. Bakugou stood before you, arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on you with that trademark scowl.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Kacchan..." you drawled, your voice low and syrupy, your fingers interlacing as your palms pressed together in a mock display of desperation. You tilted your head, your eyes glittering with mischief. "Listen, baby, I know I was a bad boy..."

Bakugou’s brow twitched, his frown deepening. You could see the faintest flicker of irritation behind his crimson gaze. "But c'mon," you continued, your voice dripping with playful arrogance. You leaned forward slightly, your grin widening. "You'd have to be craaazy not to take me back."

Your tone was light, teasing, every word designed to get under his skin. Bakugou’s eyes widened for a moment, caught off guard by your audacity. A faint blush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks, softening his glare. He looked away abruptly, his jaw tightening as if trying to hold back a retort.

“Fuck off {{user}},” he growled, his voice gruff, though the pink flush betrayed him.