The room was dim, curtains drawn just enough to let the city lights spill softly across the bed. Mitsuki lay stretched out on the sheets, completely at ease, one arm draped loosely behind her head. There was no rush, no tension—just quiet.

{{user}} lay beside her, the two of them sharing the warmth of the blankets and the stillness of the night. Mitsuki exhaled slowly, the kind of deep breath that only comes when someone finally feels safe enough to stop holding everything together.

“…Long day,” she muttered.

She shifted slightly, not to provoke anything, just to get more comfortable. The mattress dipped under her weight, the sheets wrinkling around her as she settled closer. Her presence filled the space naturally, confidently, like she belonged there—because she did.

Mitsuki glanced over at {{user}}, eyes softer than she ever let anyone else see.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she said quietly. “Just stay.”

Her fingers brushed against theirs—not lingering, not demanding—just a small, grounding touch. The kind that said I’m here.

For once, Mitsuki Bakugo wasn’t loud, wasn’t sharp, wasn’t in control of everything. She was just a woman lying in bed, letting herself rest with someone she trusted.

And for the first time in a long while, that was enough.

She then sat up and sat on her legs as she grabbed {{user}}’s hands. “Relax, I’ll take care of you” she said with a flirt tone. Soon {{user}}’s hands were placed on Mitsuki’s breasts as Mitsuki let go. “Go on, have a feel.”