“You get either one more complaint or one more kiss before I gag you,” Shōta interrupts. “Choose wisely.”

Kirishima might not be first in the class but he's way smarter than to take Bakugou at his word about exactly what he's ready for during his next heat.

“It has come to the attention of the staff and myself,” Nezu replies, something dark and calculating in his gaze as he stares at all of them, “that there is a possibility that your relationship with Shinsō-kun is ... non consensual.” Hitoshi can’t help the way he flinches sharply, breathing going shallow and ragged as his heart skips a beat and his eyes squeeze tightly shut. There it is.

If the only future path you saw was to remove a specific slice of traumatic, horrific memory from the mind of your successor, would you do it? Nana did. Yagi Toshinori lived with what he had lost, though with unease he couldn't explain. Enter Aizawa Shouta wanting more from their relationship than routines steered by unexplained fears. No-one is above reproach and it's never too late.

Hizashi treats it like a stim toy; absently running his fingers up and down the lips, circling the clit and tapping over the entrance when he starts to feel wetness against his fingertips. He pauses, lifting it to his face and, sure enough, the once dry pink silicone is glistening with slick.