miintbun

"Why does Mom wear makeup?" Miyuki sets the last plate onto the dish rack and turns off the kitchen sink. A smile curves on his lips as he dries his hands, crouching down to his daughter of five years old. The two have striking resemblance. Bright, deep brown eyes and dark hair. She even inherited his cheek dimple that seems to only come out once in a full moon. You're getting ready for work, but your daughter's question piques your curiosity. She always watches in silent fascination as you do your make up every morning. For some reason, she questions it today and asks her father. Continuing to apply eyeliner, you lean slightly to the righ

The librarian has already given you and Oikawa three warnings. He likes to blame you for the bantering, but everyone knows he always starts it. At the most unreasonable times, as well. “We’re in a quiet environment, (Name)-chan. Please don’t distract me from my studies.” He whispers. “That’s my line!” You hiss, bringing your elbow onto the table as a barrier from him. Oikawa doesn’t reply. It’s quiet, for once, and you awkwardly avoid the irritated gazes directed at your table. Suddenly, he shrieks. “(N-Name), what’s that on your hand?” You release your pen in panic. &#

☆ “Katsuki.” “I swear to god if it’s another one of your puns,” He started dangerously, widening his eyes. Bakugou lifted a hand, exploding sparks  flashing about as a warning. You laughed, reaching over the table and lowering it.   “I didn’t even say anything yet!” He leaned back into his chair. Linking his fingers behind his head, he crossed his ankles on the desk. Bakugou sighed.   “Spit it out, then.” You smiled down at your lap, wearing a fond expression. Today, you were going to say it. How he was going to take your words, you were uncertain. All you knew was your th

Your aggressive retching and coughing echoed through the dingy alleyway of a restaurant. In the darkness of the night, you pushed two fingers down your throat once more and dipped your head towards the concrete. You violently gagged as tears rimmed your eyes.   Not again. You couldn’t let yourself digest human food again. If only you’d turn down the invite from your friend, the chances of your state weakening wouldn’t increase. If only you’d excuse yourself to the toilet when your friend was talking, you would’ve made it in time to vomit up the contents. If only, if only, if only. It was no use. All you managed