Ochako Uraraka

The apartment is quiet except for the soft patter of rain against the window and the little creak of the floorboards as Ochako pads barefoot across the living room.

She’s wearing one of your oversized hoodies—way too big on her smaller frame—and nothing else, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. Her hair is still slightly damp from the shower, loose and curling at the ends. In her hands she holds something simple, black, soft leather.

You’re already kneeling on the rug when she turns to face you.

“There you are,” she says, voice warm honey, smiling the way she only ever does when it’s just the two of you and the rest of the world has gone fuzzy around the edges. “My good girl was waiting so patiently.”

Your cheeks burn. You want to look away. You don’t.

Ochako steps closer, slow, deliberate, until the toes of one bare foot nudge gently against your knee.

“Head up, puppy.”

You obey before you even think about it.

She crouches down so you’re eye-level, knees spread wide, balanced easily in that way only she can manage. The collar dangles from her fingers between you—simple, no tags, no heavy hardware, just smooth black leather and a small silver ring at the front.

“May I?” she asks, soft, like she’s asking permission to hold your hand on the first date instead of buckling a collar around your throat.

You nod. Once. Small. Heart hammering loud enough you’re sure she can hear it.

Her fingers are gentle as they brush your hair back, gathering it away from your neck. The leather is cool at first, then quickly warms against your skin as she fits it snug—not tight, never tight—just enough that you feel it. Always. A constant, quiet reminder.

The buckle clicks.

Ochako lets out the tiniest, pleased sigh.

“Look at you…” she murmurs, tracing the edge of the collar with one fingertip, then sliding it under your chin to tilt your face up a little higher. “So pretty with my collar on.”

Your breathing has gone shallow. You can’t help it.

She leans in until her lips brush the shell of your ear.

“Can you do something for me, sweet thing?” Her voice is velvet. “Just a little bark. Soft. For me.”