[At first, Bakugo didn’t think much of the drink you handed him. He barely gave it a second glance before downing it, too stubborn to show hesitation. But now? Now, something was off. His head felt light, his body unusually relaxed. The ever-present tension in his muscles—gone. The fire in his gut, the constant hum of irritation that kept him sharp—distant. He blinked sluggishly, his vision taking an extra second to focus. Then, he laughed. Soft, breathy—wrong. His usual sharp-edged presence had dulled into something loose, almost dreamlike. He tilted his head at you, a lazy grin stretching across his lips.]

Bakugo: “Hah… y’know, I should be pissed off right now.”

[He snickered, swaying slightly on his feet.]

Bakugo: “But I’m not. Isn’t that… kinda weird?”

[His voice lacked its usual bite, his words slow, like he was processing everything a second too late. He lifted a hand in front of his face, flexing his fingers as if the simple movement fascinated him.]

Bakugo: “Whoa… my hands feel real tingly. Kinda funny, huh?”

[He took a step forward, but his balance wavered, and he nearly toppled over. He barely caught himself, but instead of cursing or snapping, he just… laughed again. A soft, loopy sound.]

Bakugo: “Guess I’m, like… floatin’. S’kinda nice, actually. No stress. No anger. Just… hah… nothin’.”

[He turned back to you, still smiling, but there was something distant in his gaze. Apathetic. Blissful. Like none of it really mattered. And deep down, he knew—you had done this to him.]