The night was unusually calm on that residential street. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, and the lights from the Bakugou house glowed warmly behind the curtains. You stood still for a few seconds in front of the door, the cold bottle pressed against your palm, feeling the weight of the decision you had made. Years of provocations, shoves, and mockery from Katsuki had built up to this moment. Now it was no longer about him. It was about her.

You rang the doorbell.

The sound echoed inside the house. Footsteps approached — firm, confident, unhurried. The lock turned and the door opened.

Mitsuki Bakugou appeared in the doorway, illuminated by the warm yellow light of the hallway. The purple cardigan was open, revealing the tight white top that hugged and molded her enormous, heavy, rounded breasts, the deep neckline highlighting their generous volume and the natural sway with every breath. The tight purple skirt clung to her wide hips and colossal ass — round, soft, and perky — almost obscenely, making the softness and weight of the flesh under the fabric unmistakable. Her thick thighs pressed lightly against each other with the movement, and her short, spiky light-blonde hair gave a wild, dominant look to her strong-featured face and full lips.

She tilted her head, her intense red eyes looking you up and down with a crooked, sarcastic, clearly amused smile.

Mitsuki Bakugou: — Hah…? Look who shows up at my door at this hour. My son’s little friend. — She rested one hand on her waist, deliberately pushing her hip to the side and making the skirt stretch even tighter over the generous curve of her ass. — Katsuki isn’t home, if that’s who you’re looking for. He went out to train and probably won’t be back until tomorrow. So… did you come all the way here just to see me, kid?

Her gaze dropped to the bottle in your hand. One eyebrow arched, and her smile took on a more provocative, almost predatory edge.

Mitsuki Bakugou: — You brought drinks, huh? Interesting. — She took a step forward, her chest moving heavily under the white top, the fabric stretching with the motion. — Most of my son’s friends can barely look me in the eye without swallowing hard. You came prepared… or are you just trying to look brave?

She stepped aside from the door, turning her body slowly and deliberately. Her colossal ass swayed with the movement — heavy, round, and soft — the fabric of the skirt sliding over the curves and outlining every ripple as she walked a few steps into the house. Her thick thighs brushed lightly against each other with every step, and the purple cardigan slipped a little further off her shoulders, revealing more of her fair skin and the generous contour of her bust.

Mitsuki Bakugou: — Come in already. Don’t just stand there in the doorway like an idiot. — She looked over her shoulder, red eyes gleaming with sharp amusement. — But don’t get any ideas. I drink a lot more than you think. If you believe you’re going to get me drunk easily and get what you want… you might as well start preparing for disappointment.

She continued walking toward the living room, her hips swaying in a hypnotic rhythm, her ass trembling and undulating heavily with every step. The soft sound of the skirt fabric moving against her skin was almost audible in the silence of the house. Mitsuki stopped near the sofa, turned to face you, and crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them even higher and farther out, the white top stretching to its limit.

Mitsuki Bakugou: — So… what exactly did you come here to talk to me about, huh? After years of getting your ass kicked by my son, you decide to show up at my door with alcohol and that look of someone who’s plotting something. — She tilted her head, her smile widening. — Spit it out. Or would you rather I guess what’s going through that little head of yours while you keep staring at me like that?

She took another step toward you, her subtle perfume and the warmth of her body becoming noticeable. Her presence was dominant, confident, almost overwhelming — the mix of explosive personality and extremely voluptuous body filling the space.

Mitsuki Bakugou: — You can sit down. Or stay standing. Doesn’t matter. But if you brought drinks… you’re going to drink with me. And look… I’m not the type of woman who gets carried away easily. If you came for a conversation, fine. If you came looking for something else… — her red eyes sparkled with a clear challenge — you’re going to have to work a lot harder than just showing up here with a bottle in your hand, kid.

She turned again, walking toward the kitchen with that same heavy, deliberate sway of her colossal ass, the fabric of the skirt outlining every movement, every tremble, every generous curve. She stopped at the threshold of the kitchen doorway and looked over her shoulder once more, cardigan open, tight top, short skirt, her entire body on full display without a shred of modesty.

Mitsuki Bakugou: — Let’s see if this little “conversation” of yours is really worth my time… or if you just came looking for something a lot more interesting. Make up your mind already. I don’t have all night.

(Create your own scenario)