Two hours after stumbling on his mom in the living room doing… well, that, Yami woke up to Angela gently shaking him.
"Time to get up, sweetheart," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "You don't want to be late on your first day."
Groaning, Yami rolled over, dragging a pillow over his face. "Yeah, yeah, I'm awake."
Angela, in full mom mode, already had his clothes laid out and the jar of that special cream ready. Yami sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes as she knelt in front of him, applying the cream to his arms and legs.
"You'll do great today," Angela said, her tone light and cheerful. "I bet you'll make tons of friends."
"Sure," Yami muttered. "Whatever you say."
As she worked, a familiar chime echoed in his mind.
[Congrats, Yami! You got your first mission after watching your mom's deepest desires!]
Yami stiffened; his system had already annoyed him since the morning; why couldn't it be like one of those cool, overpowered systems? 'Fuck off,' he thought at the system.
[Fuck you too!]
[Now, here is your first mission]
====
[Mission: Is this normal, Mommy?
Objective: Masturbate alongside Angela for at least 5 minutes.
Time Limit: 1 week.
Reward: Random stat improvement.]
====
Yami's jaw tightened. 'You've gotta be kidding me,' he thought, glaring at the glowing text.
[Hey, I don't make the rules—oh wait, I do! Good luck, and fuck you champ! No, wait, you are gonna do the fucking haha!]
Angela's fingers lingered on his face as she finished applying the cream, mistaking his tension for nerves. "Don't worry, Yami. You'll be fine. You're so smart and strong—everyone will love you."
"Yeah," Yami said, his voice flat. "Thanks."
As Angela walked him off the house to school, Yami couldn't help but glance back at the living room.
It was spotless, not a single sign of the absolute mess she'd made the night before. The couch, the floor, even the walls—it was like nothing had ever happened.
After getting into Angela's car, an electric car of a company his father sponsored to cover up for a fuck up he did with waste management, Angela drove him to school.
Angela dropped him off with a warm smile and a kiss on his forehead. "Have fun, sweetheart. I'll be here when you get home."
Yami nodded, watching as she drove off before heading inside.
The classroom was chaotic—kids yelling, running around, and showing off their quirks.
Yami immediately hated it.
After introducing himself to the class, he took the furthest seat in the back and sank into it, hoping to be ignored.
Unfortunately, peace didn't last long.
A tap on his shoulder made him look up, scowling. A little girl with dark hair tied into a neat ponytail stood there, her wide eyes full of curiosity.
"Hey," she said, her voice high and confident for someone so small. "Why are your eyes gold? Is that part of your quirk?"
Yami blinked, taken aback. "They're just… like that," he said, his tone dismissive. "Why do you care?"
She tilted her head, not deterred in the slightest. "I've never seen anyone with gold eyes before. It's cool. I'm Momo Yaoyorozu, by the way."
"Yami," he muttered, turning back to stare out the window.
Momo didn't seem to get the hint. Instead, she plopped down in the seat next to him, swinging her legs like she didn't have a care in the world.
"You're new, huh? I didn't see you in preschool," she asked.
Yami sighed. "Yeah."
Momo nodded, as if that explained everything. "I can show you around if you want. I'm really good at finding stuff—like the art room, or the bathroom, or the cafeteria. Oh, and the library! Do you like books?"
"I'm fine," Yami said, glancing at her. "Don't need help."
Momo pouted. "You're mean, you know that?"
"Yeah, I've been told," he replied dryly.
Despite his cold responses, Momo stuck close to him for the rest of the day.
She didn't seem fazed by his lack of interest, chatting away about random things like her quirk and her favorite foods. Yami found her persistence annoying, but at the same time, it was kind of… nice.
No wait, Momo Yaoyorozu... Oh! So she was one of the main characters, 'I need to refresh my memory; I've started to forget some stuff about the manga, and that ain't good,' He thought.
At the same time, Momo talked about how she had read a detective novel the night prior.
Back home that evening, Yami sat on his bed, staring at the mission screen. Angela was in the kitchen making dinner, her voice soft as she hummed a tune.
The smell of grilled fish and rice filled the air, but Yami couldn't focus on it. The clock was ticking, and he had no idea how to complete the mission without looking like a total creep.
The system chimed in again... Snail how much he hated his system.
[Tick tock, Yami! Time's running out!]
"Shut up," Yami muttered under his breath.
He'd figure it out. He always did. But for now, he had bigger problems to deal with—like surviving another day of school without snapping off on the poor Momo.
Running through every scenario his overactive mind could conjure. The ridiculous mission the system had dumped on him refused to leave his thoughts.
His golden eyes narrowed as he recalled a particular doujin from his past life. The premise was simple: a shota with a massive cock claimed he was in pain because of how hard he was, and the naive, unsuspecting women around him tried to "help."
It was absurd, crude, and honestly, a little hilarious. But the idea stuck. Considering Angela's behaviour—like sniffing his underwear and soaking the couch in her juices—it didn't seem entirely impossible.
She was clearly suppressing desires that she couldn't express openly.
Yami swung his legs over the side of the bed, taking a deep breath.
Yami steeled himself, slipping off the bed and heading toward the kitchen.
Angela was humming softly as she tended to dinner. The warm scent of grilled fish and rice filled the air, making his stomach rumble despite his nerves.
She moved around the kitchen, her black-and-gold kimono swaying with every step. Her hair was tied loosely, strands falling around her face in a way that enhanced her already otherworldly beauty.
"Mom," Yami said, his voice quieter than usual. He stood in the doorway, fidgeting slightly for effect.
Angela turned, her green eyes immediately softening when she saw him. "What is it, sweetheart? Dinner will be ready soon."
He shuffled into the room, deliberately making himself look unsure. "I… I think there's something wrong with me."
Angela immediately set down the spoon she was holding, her concern upping like a switch had been flipped.
She crossed the room in a heartbeat, kneeling in front of him so they were at eye level. "What's wrong, Yami? Are you hurt?"
Yami hesitated, looking away as if embarrassed. He rubbed the back of his neck, feigning discomfort. "It's… my thing. Down there."
Angela blinked, tilting her head slightly. "Your thing?"
"My… you know," he said, glancing down and then back up at her with wide, innocent eyes. "It hurts. It's been really hard, and I don't know what to do."
Angela's face froze for a moment as if her brain was short-circuiting. Her cheeks turned pink, and she quickly looked away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Oh, I see. Um… that's, uh… normal for boys... but not your age... It's nothing to worry about."
"But it hurts," Yami insisted, adding a slight whine to his voice. "It's been like this for a while, and I don't know how to make it stop."
Angela's hands fidgeted in her lap, her lips pressing into a thin line. She looked conflicted, her motherly instincts battling with something deeper.
"Well… sometimes it just goes away on its own. Maybe you should go lie down and try to relax."
"I tried," Yami said, his tone growing more desperate. "It's not going away. Please, Mom, can you help me?"
Angela's breath hitched. Her eyes moved to stare at the floor, then back to his face. "Yami, I… I don't think that's something I can help with. It's a private thing."
"But it hurts so much," he pressed, letting his voice crack slightly for effect. "Please, Mom. I don't know what else to do."
Angela's face was a deep shade of red now, her green eyes flickering with emotions she couldn't suppress. She bit her lip, hesitating before finally nodding. "Okay… let me see."
Yami's heart pounded in his chest as he pulled down his shorts, revealing his already semi-hard cock.
Angela's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as she took in the sight. It was far too large for a boy his age, thick and veined, already showing signs of the man he would become.
"Oh my…" she whispered, her voice trembling. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against him before pulling back as if burned. "Yami, this is… this is…"
"Please," he said again, his voice small and pleading. "Just make it stop hurting."
Angela's hands trembled as she reached out again, wrapping her soft fingers around him.
Her touch was tentative and unsure, but it sent a jolt through Yami's body that he hadn't been expecting.
Angela swallowed hard, her breath shallow, as she slowly moved her hand.
"Does this help?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Yami nodded, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned into her touch. "Yeah… it's better. Thank you, Mom."
Angela's movements grew more confident, her hand sliding up and down his cock with a rhythm that, despite being amateur, was almost hypnotic.
Her breathing grew heavier, and Yami could see the conflict in her eyes. Her mind was screaming at her to stop even as her body refused to let go.
"It's so big…" she murmured, more to herself than to him. Her other hand came up to cradle his balls, her fingers exploring with a mix of curiosity and reverence. "I've never seen anything this big..."
Yami bit back a smirk, forcing himself to stay in character. "It doesn't hurt as much now," he said, his voice soft and grateful. "You're amazing, Mom."
Angela's cheeks flushed even deeper, and her movements faltered for a moment before she steeled herself and continued.
Angela's hand moved with increasing intensity, her soft, careful strokes shifting to be more eager.
She hadn't even realized that her hand that was cradling his balls was now free and had slipped beneath the folds of her kimono, her fingers teasing her wet pussy through her panties.
Her breathing grew shallow as the scent of her wet pussy and Yami's cock, mingled with the faint smell of grilled fish and rice on the stove.
Yami kept his face neutral, though his mind was racing. He couldn't deny the way her delicate hand stroked his cock, and the sight of her flushed face, her half-lidded green eyes clouded with barely restrained desire, was enough to make his cock throb in her grip.
She was completely lost in the moment, her maternal instincts battling with the growing heat of her own suppressed needs.
"Mom," he murmured, his voice soft and trembling with carefully crafted fake innocence, "it feels so much better now."
Angela's eyes flicked up to meet his, her hand pausing for just a moment before resuming its rhythm. "I… I'm glad, Yami," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But we shouldn't… this isn't…"
Her words trailed off as her own arousal took over. Her fingers between her legs dipped deeper, brushing her clit and making her hips jerk slightly.
She bit her lip, a soft whimper escaping her as her hand on Yami's cock tightened instinctively.
Minutes passed, and the only sounds in the kitchen were the wet slickness of Angela's stroking and Yami's soft breaths.
Her strokes grew faster, firmer, her grip sliding up and down his cock with a now practised ease.
Her fingers inside her pussy mirrored her motions on Yami, her body trembling with every stroke as Angela imagined if that cock was inside her.
Then, the sharp, acrid smell of something burning broke through the haze. Angela's eyes widened in alarm as she glanced toward the stove.
The rice was ruined, the pot leaking a faint wisp of smoke, but she didn't stop.
If anything, the realization seemed to push her further. Her strokes on Yami's cock became almost frantic, her breathing ragged as she chased some invisible line she knew she shouldn't cross.
Yami couldn't hold back any longer. His cock twitched in her hand, and he groaned softly as he came, thick ropes of hot cum shooting across Angela's flushed face.
Her lips parted in surprise, her tongue instinctively darting out to catch a stray drop before she realized what she was doing. She froze, her face painted white with his cum, her hands trembling as she stared at him.
"Thanks, Mom," Yami said quickly as he pulled up his shorts. He bolted from the kitchen, leaving Angela standing there, her face redder than the embers of the burned rice on the stove.
As the door to Yami's room clicked shut, Angela stood in stunned silence, her hand trembling as she brought it to her face.
Her fingers brushed the sticky remnants of his cum, her breath hitching as she stared at the mess on her palm.
The heat in her body hadn't subsided—in fact, it burned hotter than ever.
'No, Angela. You can't… you shouldn't…' Her mind screamed at her to clean herself up, to pretend this never happened. But another, darker voice whispered something else.
Her tongue flicked out again, tasting the faint sweetness of what she had caught earlier.
Her body shuddered, her resolve crumbling as she stared at the thick, white liquid coating her fingers. 'Just one taste...'
Angela closed her eyes, her hand trembling as she brought it closer to her lips.
But before she could, the sound of Yami's door opening slightly made her snap back to reality. She quickly turned to the sink and washed her hands as if nothing had happened that night.
That night, no one ate dinner.