Final Exams, "A Couple's Bath"

Seeing the hardball approach wasn't cutting it, I softened up. "Alright, what do you want?"

Toga shrugged, flashing a sugar-sweet smile. "You'll agree to my terms?"

"Depends. Nothing too wild…" I wasn't falling for her trap that easy.

She tilted her head, sizing me up with a scheming vibe that screamed trouble. Giggling, she leaned in close, voice a teasing whisper. "Take the uniform, and I'll tell you my terms later."

I squinted, on guard. But if I said no, I'd be stuck digging through her leftover mess for something wearable - no guarantee it'd fit. I sighed, holding out my hand.

"Fine… gimme the uniform..."

Beaming, Toga carefully peeled the tiny uniform off Mini-Ryuga, shielding it like it could blush. Handing it over, she cradled the bear like a mom soothing a freshly stripped kid. "It's okay, Mini-Ryuga, big bro's borrowing your clothes."

I ignored the weird muttering, snagging the uniform and bolting downstairs to prep for post-shower. Toga trailed behind, skipping along as we hit the dorm's first-floor bathrooms - separate for guys and girls.

...

Steam fogged the air, clinging to damp tiles and warming the slick floor. After a quick rinse, I stepped into the massive hot tub - big enough for all the 1-A boys, though it was just me now.

My wounds weren't fully healed, so soaking was dicey - could slow recovery, scar worse, or invite infection. Screw it - scars are trophies and lessons. Even though it stung like hell, it was better than getting dirty. By then, infection would be worse than a slow-healing wound.

Brushing it off, I closed my eyes, head against the tub's edge, savoring a rare chill moment before the all-night grind with Himiko.

Didn't last.

The sliding door creaked slowly, followed by soft footsteps on stone.

I cracked an eye - and froze, not expecting this.

Toga Himiko, blonde hair damp from steam, sauntered in. She casually shed her uniform, layer by layer sliding off, wrapping a towel around herself with pro-level finesse. I knew what was coming.

I stared for a split second before growling, "…What're you doing here?"

No answer - just a playful hum as she strolled closer.

I frowned, body wired for surprises, but this still threw me off.

She stood at the tub's edge, steam swirling around her like a hazy veil, towel barely covering the essentials - dangerous and magnetic as hell. She dipped a foot in, hot water rippling up her skin, waves spreading out. Sinking in beside me, her pale skin caught the dim light like some Roman statue. So close I could feel her heat, her breath hitching like she was holding back for the perfect strike.

"You promised," she purred, tilting her head, eyes glinting mischief.

I didn't bite, just watched as she edged nearer. She ditched the towel, letting it sink, and suddenly the room's heat wasn't just from the water.

I turned away, cornered with no escape. "I said nothing too wild."

"I'm not," she chirped, sliding closer, arms looping around my neck, body pressing in - heat hitting hard. "Just… bathing together."

I sighed. With Himiko, "bathing together" was never just that. But I don't back out of deals. I'd agreed, no takebacks.

To keep my dignity - and clothes - for the night's grind, I caved, letting her cling and tempt me, water sloshing with every move. She dropped the coy act - fingers tracing near my would, eyes lit with curiosity and… a little sad?

"Another new one," she whispered. "Promise me no more reckless stunts?"

"Sure, I promise…" I started, but she cut me off, diving into a deep, breathless kiss.

Well, here we go.

What I didn't see coming? Post-kiss, she ducked underwater for a sudden BJ, catching me so off-guard I damn near ascended. We'd skipped this stuff before - neither of us liked it, and kissing after that felt like indirect dick-sucking. But this? Out of nowhere, my body jolted from the alien rush she unleashed.

"Wait… fuck… what're you doing?" I growled, fighting to stay cool but losing fast.

Lucky - or unlucky - she surfaced after maybe four minutes, choking on water, gasping, then steadying herself. Sitting astride me, she leaned in, whispering, "This is my condition…"

She guided me in, easing down slow, savoring it. Her warmth mixed with the tub's heat - tight, slick, intense. The water diluted the glide, making it raw, rougher than usual, but it didn't stop us. If anything, it fired her up more.

I gripped her waist, mapping every curve, then left a hickey near her chest. She flinched, a sharp twinge, then bit my ear lightly, pushing me to the edge.

The calm water rippled with our rhythm, steam blurring the lights, soft moans turning the serene vibe into something primal. Her dirty talk - stuff I'd never taught or said - hit hard. I couldn't think, just sank deeper into the high, deadline be damned.

Each time I tapped her waist - my "close" signal - she'd pull off, dive down, and suck me dry before I wasted it, and of course choking on water every time. I'd ask if she wanted to stop; she didn't. We kept going 'til past midnight, limbs pale and spent.

...

Dressed and hauling a limp Himiko - too wrecked to stand - back upstairs in just a towel, I disinfected and bandaged the wound, then tapped my last reserves to tackle Aizawa's deadline. She wanted to help, but after burning everything on each other, she was toast, sprawled on the bed.

I sank into the chair, fired up the laptop, grabbed pen and paper, and opened the doc. 2,000 handwritten tactical words sounded brutal, but compared to Nomu scraps or surviving Stain? Cake.

Still, 2,000 words in six night hours, and Japanese only? Torture.

Himiko lazed on the bed, face in pillow, voice a drowsy purr. "Ryuu-chan… lemme sleep a bit…"

"Go for it," I said, no pause, starting to write.

Unlike 1-A's type-or-write options, Aizawa demanded pure handwriting this time for me.

Sucked? Yep. But it's solid review, so I sucked it up.

"You really doing all 2,000 now?" she mumbled, half-asleep.

"What, save it for morning?"

"…Write some, sleep, finish at dawn?"

"Nah. Aizawa hates late shit. Plus, you need a reference to do your own too, right?"

She buried her face deeper, fingers clinging to my sleeve. "That toilet-paper-neck asshole's the worst."

I smirked, pen moving.

Handwriting's a beast compared to typing - I'd knock this out in an hour on keys, pen's slow, precise - no typos, no scribbles. Japanese flows from this body's memory, but my real tongue's elsewhere, so I go careful, not scratching like a chicken on speed.

Eyes shut, deep breath, I dumped my brain onto paper. Started with tactics - Aizawa'd eat up practical over flashy. Detailed reacting to bad odds, using terrain, reading foes, adapting mid-fight.

Words flowed, stacking into clean paragraphs. Took an hour for the basics, then I hit real-world examples - Sports Festival stuff. Izuku's evolving style, Todoroki's fire compensating weaknesses, Bakugo's speed and brutality crushing opposition.

Himiko went quiet, probably out. But at 1,500 words, she stirred, rolling to the bed's edge.

"…Ryuu-chan…"

"Yeah?" I kept writing.

"Can I hug you a sec?"

I sighed. "I'm finishing this. Save it later."

She whined, voice syrupy. "Just a little… I can't sleep."

Clock read past 1 a.m. 500 words left - I think i could spare a minute.

Pausing, I set the pen down, spun the chair, and opened my arms. "Fine, quick one."

She grinned, crawling over and latching on, head on my shoulder, warm breath on my neck. Her skin prickled - chilly air, no clothes post-towel. Even after our romp, her scent lingered - vague, intoxicating.

"Ryuu-chan's always so warm…"

I didn't reply, letting her soak it in, then eased her off. "Alright, back to sleep. Gotta finish."

She didn't fight, giggling as she flopped back. "Sleep when you're done, 'kay?"

I nodded, grabbed the pen, and powered through, crashing beside her at 4 a.m.