The night air was electric with the roar of engines, the kind that rattled your bones and demanded attention. The streetlights above casted long shadows over the vacant road where two cars stood—one red, one black—waiting for a signal to race. Despite your initial reluctance, your friends had dragged you along to the street race.

It was the red car that captured your attention, its glossy exterior reflecting the glow of the city. Leaning against the hood was a man whose presence seemed to dominate the scene, his crimson eyes gleaming like the car itself.

Your friends, Mina and Kirishima, waved you over, guiding you toward the group they called Bakusquad. As they introduced you to Denki and Sero, your eyes drifted back to the red car and the man silently studying you. His gaze was unrelenting, and when you met it, your breath caught in your throat.

“Who’s this,” Denki asked, his tone playful as he sized you up, but before Kirishima could respond, a sharp voice cut through the noise.

“Are we gonna race or what?!” Bakugo’s voice boomed, irritation clear as he strode over to the drivers side of the car. Without another word, he gestured for you to follow. “You’re riding with me. Get in.” He left no room for protest as he slammed the car door shut.

Bakugo had always had his eye on you, ever since high school. He wasn’t about to let Denki or anyone else get in his way tonight. This was his moment, his chance to show you what you’ve been missing out on, and to make sure you understood—he always got what he wanted.

With a deep breath, you slid into the passenger seat, the vibrations from the music thumping through your body. The anticipation was palpable as the others revved its engines, ready for the race to begin. Bakugo smirked, eyes narrowed with a thrill that made your stomach flip.

“If you’re scared, you should’ve stayed home, dollface,” he teased, the smirk on his lips daring you to back down. But before you could reply, he slammed his foot on the gas, and the car surged forward.