#Nemuri Kayama is mentioned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebunnednun · 3 months ago

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You're my Coffee

Shouta Aizawa x Pro hero/Teacher! Reader

Summary:

After a distressing call from a Japanese hospital, you learn your friend Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) has briefly awoken from her coma and is desperately screaming for you.

She makes a final request: take care of her students if she doesn't survive.

So you pack your bags and move to Japan, only to find the students at U.A. High School traumatized by the Hero War. Aizawa is struggling to help them, and Nezu is overwhelmed trying to find therapists while managing international scrutiny over the students' involvement in the war. Aizawa panics when Nezu informs him of your arrival, as your hero profile is so blank he can't find decent information about you, despite your international headlines.

Your start is rocky, worsened by your initial deception of pretending to be his new student. The students are unsure what to make of you, but they’re drawn to their new pretty art teacher and soon so is their handsome grump of a teacher.

With the media down his neck, Nezu offers you a deal: Get the kids to seek therapy, you to graduate with your psychology doctorate. Aizawa’s catch: If you fail or harm them, you walk away from being a therapist and hero altogether.

All while facing your own trauma, and the affections of those strange cats...

Tw: PTSD and mentions of violence and mental distress.

Song: SZA - Good Days

----------------------Chapter 1: Who are you?------------------------

The day had been a rare opportunity for the new Class 2-A to unwind and explore the vibrant shopping district surrounding U.A. Academy. With a Saturday all to themselves, students scattered across the mall, relishing the chance to indulge in personal interests and bond outside the confines of their classrooms.

In the heart of the bustling mall, the comic store beckoned with its colorful displays and eager customers. The windows were adorned with colorful posters of heroes in dynamic poses, and the entrance was flanked by life-sized statues of popular heroes. The air inside was thick with the scent of new books and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.

Izuku Midoriya, his face lit up with joy, led a group consisting of Ochaco Uraraka, Tsuyu Asui, Tenya Iida, Shoto Todoroki, and himself towards the store's entrance. They were drawn by the promise of hero memorabilia and the back to school discounted prices plastered all over the building.

Hey, kids gotta ball on a budget!

As they entered, the store buzzed with energy. Fans of all ages flipped through graphic novels, their fingers brushing the glossy pages, while others scrutinized shelves stocked with hero-themed merchandise—action figures, posters, and keychains, all meticulously arranged to catch the eye. The walls were lined with shelves, each packed to the brim with comics, some new, others worn and well-loved. A few children darted between the aisles, their laughter mingling with the murmur of conversations.

Izuku gravitated towards the section dedicated toToshinori, his eyes wide and scanning for any rare collectibles he might have missed. The rows of action figures stood proudly, their detailed designs catching the overhead light. Posters of All Might in his prime covered the walls, Izuku's gaze lingered on each one, and his eyes softened.

"Hey, Izuku, check this out!" Ochaco's voice rang out, pulling him from his reverie. She held up a keychain featuring a miniature All Might in his signature hero pose, the small figure almost glowing in her hand. "Isn't this adorable?" She smiled brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy.

Izuku's face brightened, his eyes widening as he stepped closer to examine the keychain. "That's awesome, Ochaco! I wonder if they have any figurines or posters I haven't seen before." He began to peruse the shelves again, his fingers trailing lightly over the edges of the boxes as he searched for something new. His gaze darted from one item to another, his excitement slowly giving way to disappointment as he realized there were no new All Might items to add to his collection.

Izuku sighed softly, the sound almost lost in the ambient noise of the store. His rewards points burned a hole in his pocket, the card resting in his hand as he glanced around the store, hoping for a hidden gem.

The sweet old lady store clerk noticed his dilemma and smiled warmly at him. "Can't find what you're looking for, young man?" She had allowed the Izu-crew to browse before offering her assistance.

Izuku shook his head, feeling a bit crestfallen. "Not this time, Mrs. Sakamaki. All Might stuff tends to sell out quickly." He shuffled slightly, one hand slipping into his pocket as he spoke, the other still clutching the rewards card.

Mrs. Sakamaki, was a sweet old lady store clerk with a kind smile and gentle demeanor. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back, and she wore a cozy cardigan that seemed to match the warmth in her eyes.

Mrs. Sakamaki's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well, how about considering something new? Have you heard about Charge Bomb? She's quite the rising star, you know." She leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret, her voice full of enthusiasm.

Izuku's head tilted slightly, curiosity evident in his tone, and interest piqued, " Charge Bomb? "

Mrs. Sakamaki nodded enthusiastically, her smile widening as she reached behind the counter. With a practiced hand, she retrieved a medium-sized figurine of Charge Bomb, complete with her signature explosive star emblem and perching pose.

The figure was expertly crafted, capturing the details of the hero’s ebony mask and cloak. "She's gaining quite a fanbase lately. People say she's as electrifying as her powers!"

Izuku hesitated for a moment, his eyes tracing the details of the figurine in his hand. The weight of it was reassuring, and he could feel the craftsmanship in every groove. "I've heard a bit about her. She seems really strong." He turned the figure over, examining it closely, the gears in his mind turning as he considered adding it to his collection.

Ochaco teased him lightly, nudging Izuku with a playful grin. "Come on, Izuku. Even if All Might isn't here, you can expand your horizons a bit!"

Tsuyu ribbited in agreement, her lips quirking up in a small smile. "Ribbit. Midoriya, you might discover a new hero to admire." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched Izuku's inner debate unfold.

Izuku chuckled sheepishly, feeling the support of his friends. "Alright, alright. Charge Bomb it is. Thank you, ma'am." He offered Mrs. Sakamaki a grateful smile as he handed over his rewards card, the anticipation building within him as he added the figurine to his growing collection.

"This Charge Bomb figure is incredible," Izuku exclaimed, his eyes wide as he examined the action figure in his hands. He was doing that mumbling thing and they were happy to see him geek over something other than All Might. It was good to see him like this.

He needed this.

"Yeah, but she seems so distant, like she's always avoiding questions in her interviews," Ochaco remarked, her gaze shifting to a nearby display of hero-themed posters. She reached out to adjust one that had slipped slightly out of place, her fingers brushing the paper lightly.

"She's probably just focused on hero work," Shoto chimed in quietly, his eyes scanning the shelves with detached interest. He reached out to pick up a comic, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. "I've seen her in action in some civilian videos. She doesn't waste time or energy." He placed the comic back, his expression thoughtful.

Tsuyu, standing beside Shoto, nodded in agreement. "Ribbit. Maybe she prefers a direct approach, focusing on getting the job done without unnecessary risks." She leaned over to pick up a comic featuring a leapfrog character, holding it up with a teasing smile before lightly punching Shoto in the arm for showing it to her.

Iida, who had been diligently scanning through hero strategy books, joined the conversation with his trademark earnestness. "Indeed. Charge Bomb's reputation stems from her precise tactics and adherence to hero regulations. She's a model of efficiency." His posture was as rigid as ever, but there was a spark of admiration in his eyes.

Ochaco nodded knowingly, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's part of her appeal. Charge Bomb is known for her no-nonsense attitude and her skill in taking down villains efficiently. But when it comes to interviews, she's a bit elusive. Always dodging personal questions with a touch of humor. I would love to get away with that! Those interview questions always make me so nervous." She glanced over at Izuku, her expression softening as she saw the thoughtful look on his face.

Izuku's brows furrowed slightly, a mixture of disappointment and fascination crossing his features. "It's amazing how she manages to stay mysterious even with all the attention she's getting." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still holding the Charge Bomb figurine as he contemplated the enigma that was this new hero.

Tsuyu, always the voice of reason, chimed in to lighten the mood. "Maybe she just wants to keep her private life private. It adds to her mystique, kero. Don't you think?" She tilted her head slightly, her wide eyes filled with understanding.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Izuku agreed with a small smile, his shoulders relaxing as he let go of his earlier disappointment. ‘ She's definitely someone I want to learn more about.’ He glanced around at his friends, grateful for their perspectives.

Their conversation was interrupted by Iida, who had found a stack of hero biographies nearby. He straightened up, holding one out to Izuku with a determined look. "Have any of you seen this? It's a comprehensive guide on hero rankings and strategies. We should study this for our next training session." His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the group was huddled around the book, discussing its contents with renewed excitement.

Meanwhile, nearby, Eijiro Kirishima trailed after Katsuki Bakugo through the bustling mall, his grin wide and infectious. The air was thick with the mingled scents of food and perfume, and the cacophony of shoppers' chatter created a lively atmosphere. Kirishima's energy was palpable as he practically bounced on his heels, his excitement barely contained.

"C'mon, bro, let's hurry up! I wanna check out those romance novels you were talking about," Kirishima urged, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. His red hair caught the overhead lights, giving it an almost fiery glow, and his broad smile seemed to brighten the entire aisle.

Bakugo grunted in response, his usual scowl softened slightly by Kirishima's persistent cheer. He had a reputation to maintain, but Kirishima's unwavering smile always managed to crack through his tough exterior.

The corners of his mouth twitched as if resisting a smile, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. They navigated through the maze of aisles, their footsteps echoing against the polished tiles. The aisles were lined with displays of books and manga, with colorful covers vying for attention. Bakugo’s eyes darted toward a stand of novels, his expression turning contemplative as he contemplated a particular title.

Nearby, Mina and Aoyama were in their element, quoting vines and hunting for discounted products, their vibrant personalities on full display. Mina's laughter rang out as she twisted open a bottle of lotion, the fruity scent wafting into the air.

Her pink skin seemed to shimmer under the store's lights, matching the lively energy she exuded. Aoyama, ever the picture of elegance, carefully examined a row of lip glosses, each one sparkling under the lights like miniature jewels. He held one up to the light, admiring its glittering hue with a flourish of his hand.

Being a crusty bitch is a crime in their book.

"This one captures my essence perfectly," Aoyama declared with a dramatic flair, his voice lilting with confidence as he made his selection. Mina chuckled, shaking her head in amusement as they made their way toward the counter.

Denki and Sero, not far behind, were engrossed in a lively debate over their favorite music band. Their voices rose above the ambient noise of the mall, attracting a few curious glances. Denki gesticulated animatedly, his eyes bright with passion as he defended his choice. "I'm telling you, their new album is fire! The beats are insane!"

Sero countered with equal enthusiasm, a mischievous grin on his face. "Si, pero like , the lyrics in their older stuff hit harder. You can't just overlook that!" His arms crossed over his chest, a challenge in his posture as he awaited Denki's rebuttal. Their exchange was playful, filled with an easy camaraderie.

Not far off, Jirou sat quietly with Momo. Jirou’s earbuds were plugged in, the faint sound of music just audible as she perused a rack of graphic tees. Her expression was thoughtful, her fingers brushing over the fabric as she considered her options.

Occasionally, she glanced over at Momo, who was absorbed in selecting art supplies from a nearby shelf. Momo's concentration was evident in the way her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pursed in determination as she compared different shades of sketch pencils.

Near the food court, Sato and Koda were in their element, sampling soft pretzels from a nearby vendor. The aroma of freshly baked dough filled the air, mingling with the scent of warm butter and salt. Their faces lit up with delight as they bit into the savory snacks, the crunch of the pretzel giving way to soft, chewy perfection.

"I’m gonna make this back at the dorm!" Sato declared, his eyes wide with pleasure as he took another bite. Koda nodded in agreement, his usually shy demeanor momentarily forgotten as he enjoyed the treat.

In the midst of the mall's eclectic offerings, Toru and Ojiro found themselves browsing through racks of matching T-shirts and pajamas. Toru's laughter was infectious, her voice light and bubbly as she held up a pair of pajama pants covered in cartoonish animal prints.

"These are so cute! Ojiro, you should totally get a pair to match!" she teased, her invisible form barely discernible except for the clothing she held.

Ojiro chuckled, his tail swaying behind him as he examined the T-shirt in his hands. "Sure thing, these tees would look pretty cool on you," he said, holding up a shirt with a simple yet striking heart design. His expression was relaxed, content in the easy banter they shared.

Further down the mall, the Hot Topic store exuded a darker, edgier vibe. The walls were adorned with posters of alternative bands, horror movie memorabilia, and gothic accessories that attracted a certain crowd.

Fumikage Tokoyami and Mezo Shoji were drawn to the store's unique collection, their interest piqued by the array of darkly themed merchandise. Tokoyami's eyes gleamed with approval as he browsed through the selection of black hoodies and band T-shirts, Dark Shadow flickering in and out of view as it reacted to the ambient darkness.

Shoji, towering beside him, was more methodical in his approach, carefully examining each item before making a decision. His multiple arms moved with practiced efficiency, picking up and setting down items as he weighed his options. There was a quiet intensity to his movements, his nature calm but intensive.

Hitoshi Shinso, the newest addition to Class 2-A, stood nearby, quietly observing the array of mystery novels lining the shelves. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a spark of curiosity as he reached out to pull a book from the shelf. The cover was dark and foreboding, promising a tale of intrigue and suspense. Shinso flipped through the pages, his mind already piecing together the story within.

As the afternoon unfolded, the tranquil atmosphere of their shopping expedition was abruptly shattered by a sudden commotion echoing from the mall's main atrium. The cheerful chatter and the hum of activity were quickly drowned out by a chorus of panicked voices.

Shoppers and storekeepers alike scrambled to escape the center of the chaos, their hurried footsteps reverberating through the marble floors.

"What's going on?" Shoto asked, his voice low as his eyes narrowed, instinctively sensing something was amiss. The cool air around him seemed to grow colder as he prepared for the worst.

Izuku's gaze darted towards the source of the disturbance, his expression sharpening with determination. "Something's happening. We need to check it out!"

With a unified nod, they abandoned their purchases and hurried towards the scene, their training as future heroes kicking in instinctively. They weaved through the bustling crowd, the throngs of people parting in their wake as they sprinted toward the mall's open space. The vibrant colors of store signs and displays blurred around them as they closed in on the source of the disturbance.

When they emerged into the atrium, the sight that greeted them was one of utter chaos. A villain stood at the center, their body crackling with electricity, causing nearby electrical appliances and lights to flicker and malfunction dangerously.

Sparks flew as lights exploded overhead, sending shards of glass raining down. The air buzzed with the raw, uncontrolled energy that pulsed from the villain.

Ochaco's eyes widened in alarm. "We need to stop him before he causes a blackout!"

Before any of them could spring into action, a brilliant flash of light erupted from the villain's direction. The intensity of the glow momentarily blinded them, but when their vision cleared, they saw a figure stepping forward from the crowd—a woman dressed in unassuming civilian attire.

Despite her inconspicuous appearance, her presence commanded attention. There was a quiet power in the way she carried herself, her gaze steely and focused as she assessed the situation.

"Everyone, stand back!" she called out, her voice firm and authoritative.

Izuku and his classmates exchanged surprised glances but held their ground. watching in awe as the woman unleashed a burst of energy from her hands. Their initial confusion gave way to awe as the woman raised her hands, now crackling with energy that mirrored the villain's.

She moved with a fluid grace, her actions deliberate and controlled. In one swift motion, she unleashed a concentrated burst of energy that shot through the air with blinding speed.

The energy blast struck the villain with pinpoint accuracy, the force of it sending them stumbling backward. The villain's powers sputtered out, the crackling electricity around them fizzling as they crumpled to the ground, unconscious and harmless. The once rampant chaos that had filled the atrium dissipated almost immediately, leaving behind a stunned silence.

The woman lowered her hands, the energy dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. She remained poised, her eyes sweeping over the now-subdued scene before landing on the group of young heroes-in-training. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat, the sheer power she had displayed lingering in the air.

"Thank you for the backup, but I've got it from here," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she acknowledged their readiness to jump into action. She quickly restrained the villain before pulling out her phone and called for backup, her voice calm and authoritative.

"This one's neutralized. Send a team to secure the area."

Within moments, the sounds of sirens filled the air as police and other pro heroes arrived to handle the situation. Relieved, the woman now turned to the students, her eyes locking onto Izuku's for a moment longer than the others. Her gaze was intense, as if she recognized something in him.

"You're all heroes in training, right?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind. It was weird how her presence was both commanding and serene. The way she carried herself exuded a quiet confidence that spoke volumes about her experience.

They nodded, still processing the sudden turn of events and the display of power they had just witnessed.

"Good," she continued. "Stay out of the way and let me handle this. Head back the way you came."

Reluctantly, they complied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Some of them were eager to jump in themselves, but the recent war had left a few of them wary of rushing into unknown danger.

Her eyes lingered on Izuku for a moment longer than the others, a fleeting exchange that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a way yet to be understood.

There was something about that look that he couldn't quite shake, a feeling that would stay with him long after they left the mall.

---

As they regrouped outside, Kirishima was the first to voice what everyone was thinking. "That was so cool to see in person! The way that off-duty pro handled it without anything getting damaged was so manly!"

"Yeah, but it's kind of a bummer our trip got cut short," Mina added, pouting a little as she remembered the bags they had left behind.

Some of the students remained quiet, their minds replaying the events that had just unfolded. The atmosphere was a mix of lingering adrenaline and reflective silence. Izuku and Bakugou, in particular, seemed more shaken than the others. The encounter had stirred memories of past battles, memories that were still too fresh to ignore.

Ochaco noticed Izuku's distant expression and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Izuku, are you okay?"

Izuku blinked, snapping back to reality and forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about how strong that lady is. It was incredible." His mind was still replaying the moment when her eyes had locked onto his, trying to decipher what it meant.

The group made their way back to U.A., the towering building a comforting sight after the unexpected events of the day. As they entered the common room, they were greeted by the sight of other classes returning to their dorms, their faces reflecting the mixed emotions of a day interrupted by the unexpected.

In the common room, Aizawa was waiting for them, his usual stern expression softened slightly by their safe return. The class brightened upon seeing their teacher, and they quickly crowded around him with excitement, eager to share their experiences.

"Dadzawa, look what I got!" Kaminari exclaimed, holding up a new band poster with a wide grin..

"Check out my new lip gloss!" Mina chimed in, showing off the shiny tube she had managed to purchase before the chaos erupted.

"I got some new hair dye!" Kirishima announced proudly, holding up the box with a toothy grin.

"One at a time," Aizawa said, raising his hands to quiet the enthusiastic students. "I'm glad to see you're all safe. Now, tell me about your ‘mall adventures’ ."

As the students eagerly recounted their shopping trip, showing off their new trinkets and purchases, Aizawa listened patiently, occasionally nodding and responding to their stories. The atmosphere was lively, the students' spirits lifted despite the earlier interruption.

Finally, Aizawa raised his hands again, silencing the room. "Alright, listen up. A new teacher will be joining U.A. while completing her Doctorate. Treat her with respect and learn from her."

Mina and Kaminari immediately perked up at the news. "More details, please!" they chorused, their curiosity piqued.

Aizawa's stern look silenced their pleas. "She will be your new art and history teacher. That's all you need to know for now."

“Ugh, lame!”

Some of the students, especially Mina and Kaminari, let out groans of disappointment. "But, Mr. Aizawa, can't you tell us a little more?" Denki pleaded, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I understand you all have questions about the new teacher joining us," he began, “But she has asked to remain anonymous at this time. She is to arrive there in three weeks time and I expect you all to give her the same respect you give me.”

After looking around the room he sighed through his nose, “Hell, make it more respectful. Remember that you represent U.A.”

“But—” Kaminari started to protest, but the stern look Aizawa gave him made him quickly back down.

"That's all for now," Aizawa said, his tone final. "I expect you all to welcome her respectfully. Now, it's time to get ready for tomorrow."

With that, he dismissed them, and the students broke off for the evening, the lively atmosphere gradually returning as they scattered to their respective rooms. Izuku, however, was still deep in thought. As he entered his room, he carefully set up his new Charge Bomb figure on his desk, placing it alongside his other hero memorabilia.

Sitting down, he opened his hero notebook and flipped to a fresh page. His mind raced as he began sketching the mysterious woman, trying to capture the essence of her stance and the way her eyes had locked onto his. Each line he drew was careful and deliberate, his concentration intense as he tried to understand what had transpired.

As he sketched, he jotted down a few notes:

Name: Mall stopper

Quirk: Unknown, but likely related to energy manipulation.

Appearance: Mysterious, not in costume during the encounter.

Personality: Commanding presence, but not rude.

Additional Notes: Encountered at the mall while stopping a villain. Avoids citizens getting harmed.

Seemed to recognize me?

Izuku stared at the page for a long moment, his pencil hovering over the paper as he pondered the day's events.

He still had many questions, but he knew obsessing over it would disrupt his sleep schedule again.

But he knew he couldn’t sleep.

Grabbing his phone, Izuku dialed his mother's number. The dorm room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional distant laughter of his classmates the only sounds breaking the silence. His fingers tapped nervously on the phone case as he waited. It didn't take long for her cheerful voice to come through the receiver.

"Hi baby! How was your day?"

"It was good, Mom. We went to the mall and... something interesting happened," Izuku began, recounting the day's events and the encounter. As he spoke, he could hear the concern in his mother's voice.

"Just be careful, Izuku. I'm glad you're safe," she said, her tone gentle and loving.

“I promise, Mom. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m in love with that hospital bed.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Inko giggled into the receiver before her tone took a softer approach. “You know, sweetie, you can still come home when you can’t sleep. I’ll handle your teacher.”

Now the idea of his adorable mom dealing with the physical embodiment of a grumpy cat that was his teacher was tempting but he really didn’t want to put her through that.

"I know, Mom. But I’m fine, really!” Izuku replied, a small smile playing on his lips. The thought of his mother's comforting presence was tempting, but he was determined to manage on his own.

“Okay, if you say so. Make sure to get good rest tonight.”

“Goodnight, Mom," Izuku replied, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him.

"Goodnight, sweetie," she said before blowing a kiss into the phone and hanging up.

As he lay back in bed, his mind raced with thoughts of the new teacher and the mysterious pro hero. The encounter at the mall had been brief, but it left a lasting impression, fueling his curiosity and excitement.

“Who are you?” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling.

The moonlight cast shadows across his room, giving it an almost ethereal quality. The day's events replayed in his mind, the adrenaline and wonder still lingering.

The gentle hum of the air conditioner became a lullaby, blending with the distant murmurs of his classmates as Izuku's thoughts gradually began to quiet. He could still feel the intensity of that woman's gaze, the warmth of her presence as vivid in his memory as if she were still standing before him. The encounter had left him with more questions than answers, but those questions could wait for tomorrow.

As he lay there, his thoughts slowly settled, and the comforting warmth of his conversation with his mother began to soothe the last remnants of his restlessness. The image of her familiar smile and the sound of her voice reminded him of the safety of home, a place where he was always welcome.

He shifted under the covers, finding a comfortable position as the day's events continued to fade into the recesses of his mind. His eyelids grew heavier, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. Izuku's last conscious thought was a whispered promise to himself to uncover the mystery behind the pro hero who had left such a strong impression on him.

In the stillness of the night, the world outside his window continued to turn, but within the quiet of his dorm room, Izuku finally surrendered to sleep. Dreams of heroes, battles, and new beginnings filled his mind,

---

As the dorms settled into a quieter atmosphere, Bakugou lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The buzz of late-night conversations and the distant sound of someone playing music softly on their phone faded into the background. His room was dimly lit, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, casting a faint glow across his tidy desk and the posters on the wall.

Bakugou could hear the rhythmic breathing of his classmates through the thin walls, and while that used to annoy him and still kinda did, it was a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone, even in the stillness of the night.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Glancing at the screen, he saw his mother's photo flash across it. With a resigned sigh, he answered, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Oi, Katsuki! I saw you on the news at the mall today,” Mitsuki's voice boomed through the phone, as loud and commanding as ever. Apparently some people had taken videos of the villain attack and he was spotted in the background.

“You need to take it easy. Remember your heart? And your arm?”

Bakugou grumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little leave-"

“Fine, my ass! Have you picked a therapist yet?” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"I don't need one," Bakugou retorted, irritation evident in his tone. His free hand clenched into a fist, the tension palpable.

"Don't you give me that, Katsuki! You're my son, and I won't let you walk around with your trauma eating you alive," she snapped back, her fierce tone unmistakable. Some shuffling was heard in the background before a muffled “Fine!” Bakugou rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance.

A gentler voice came on the line. "Katsuki, it's Dad. You know All Might and Aizawa found some really good professionals for you. You don't have to worry about your... verbal constipation with them. We understand you don't want to talk to us about it, but we love you and want you to be okay."

"The little squirt knows that already!" Mitsuki cut in, snatching the phone back. "You already know that we love you. If we didn't, we'd just let you do whatever, and you'd be a bigger asshole than you already act like."

Bakugou grumbled something incomprehensible, but his mother cut him off again. "This isn't up for negotiation. You don't have to talk to us about it, but you are going to heal, and that's final."

There was a pause, and Bakugou finally sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "I get it, Mom. I’ll... I’ll think about it."

The line went quiet for a moment, the tension easing. "Good. We love you, Katsuki. Goodnight," Mitsuki said softly, her voice carrying a rare note of tenderness.

"Love you too, Mom. Dad," Bakugou responded, his voice uncharacteristically tender, the words surprising even him.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’

Katsuki watched as the line hung up and he clicked his phone off and stared back up at the ceiling, a sense of warmth washed over him. His parents' concern, though sometimes overbearing, came from a place of deep love. Even if he didn’t want to admit it.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and allowed himself to relax. The worries and frustrations of the day seemed to melt away, leaving him with a rare sense of peace.

For the first time in a while, he felt a bit lighter. Bakugou’s mind was quieter than usual, the echoes of his parents’ voices lingering in the back of his thoughts, offering a strange comfort he wasn’t used to acknowledging.

He wasn’t one to lean on anyone, not even his parents, but something about the way they’d insisted, the way his dad had gently nudged him while his mom pushed with her usual force, made him reconsider. It was a rare moment where their concern didn’t feel suffocating, but grounding. It made him think about the things he’d been pushing down, the way he’d been ignoring the nagging feelings that crept up on him in the quiet moments, like now.

The moonlight continued to cast soft shadows across his room, and the distant sounds of his classmates—now more like a comforting white noise—faded further into the background as he focused on his breathing, steady and even. Bakugou wasn’t sure when he’d started to rely on these moments of solitude to sort through his thoughts, but tonight, they didn’t seem as overwhelming as they usually did.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but the idea of talking to someone—a therapist, of all people—wasn’t as off-putting as it had been before. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe the events of the day had worn him down more than he realized.

Or maybe, just maybe , the thought of unloading some of the weight he carried didn’t seem so bad. But that was a decision for tomorrow. For now, he let the warmth of his parents' love settle in, something he wasn’t used to acknowledging but found comforting nonetheless.

Bakugou let his eyes close, his breathing slowing as sleep began to take over. For the first time in a long while, the tightness in his chest eased, replaced by a sense of calm that was almost foreign to him. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but tonight, he was content with the knowledge that he didn’t have to face it all alone.

And with that thought, he finally drifted into a deep, undisturbed sleep, his usual scowl replaced by the faintest hint of a relaxed expression.

---

Across the dorms, a restless atmosphere pervaded the night. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken fears and lingering trauma, wrapping around each student like a suffocating blanket.

In one room, Sero and Denki were engaged in an intense game of Mario Kart, the room illuminated by the flickering screen. Their eyes were dry and heavy with fatigue, yet their determination kept them focused on the game. Sero's fingers flew over the controller, his competitive spirit shining through despite the exhaustion.

Denki leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration, occasionally letting out a frustrated groan when he lost a race. The game was a distraction, a desperate attempt to stay awake, to avoid the nightmares waiting on the other side of sleep. They wanted to stay awake, afraid to drift off with the lights off and let the flashbacks creep in.

Down the hall, Jirou sat cross-legged on her bed, her guitar resting gently on her lap. Her fingers trembled as they strummed the strings, testing out the reconstruction of her ear. Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the soft glow of her bedside lamp.

She winced from the phantom pains, her breath hitching with each painful cramp that surfaced. The melody she played was soft and mournful, echoing the lingering trauma within her. Each note seemed to resonate with her heartache. She closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the music, hoping it would offer some solace.

The music was a refuge, a way to express what words couldn’t—her pain, her fear, the lingering terror that her body was still recovering from. She focused on the vibrations of the strings, trying to drown out the phantom pains and the memories of the screams and explosions.

Wounds that no melody alone could fully heal.

Kirishima tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. His brow was furrowed in distress, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He fought against the blankets as if they were the villains he’d faced, his body rigid with tension. Kiri was trapped in a nightmare, locked in a never-ending battle with a mysterious figure.

His hardened skin, usually a source of strength, offered no protection from the terror gnawing at his mind. He clenched his fists physically, his muscles tensing as he fought off the invisible enemy, but the fear remained, a relentless killer.

In another room, Tokoyami paced back and forth, his mind a storm of anxiety. The pacing was erratic, each step driven by a nervous energy that had no outlet. Dark Shadow hovered nearby, mirroring his agitation with restless flutters.

Sato, sitting cross-legged on the floor, had tried to bake away his stress, but the pile of untouched pastries on the table told a different story. The sweet aroma of cookies and cakes filled the room, a stark contrast to the bitterness of their shared unease. Sato just stared at the pound cake he had made, his eyes unfocused.

He couldn't bring himself to eat it, the sight of the cake stirring up memories of happier times that now felt distant.

How it mocked him now.

Shinsou was in Koda's room, perched on the edge of the bed. The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows that danced gently with the movements of the little creature. Koda's gentle strokes seemed to calm not only the bunny but also the tension that had been building in Shinsou's chest all night.

Koda's touch was careful and soothing, a therapeutic distraction from the darkness that loomed over them. The bunny's nose twitched, and Koda smiled faintly, a brief respite from the weight of their worries. He would need to sneak his cat in soon.

In the kitchen, Momo and Mina stood side by side, giggling softly as they made fried egg rice, the gentle sounds offering a momentary escape.

The familiar routine of cooking offered them a small slice of normalcy, a way to focus their minds on something other than the gnawing anxiety that had settled in their stomachs. The soft clink of utensils, the sizzle of oil in the pan, and the aroma of fried egg rice filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their hushed conversation.

Their laughter wasn’t forced, but the enthusiasm was a mask for their lack of appetite and the anxiety that gnawed at their insides.

Momo's hands moved with precision as she flipped the eggs, her mind clearly elsewhere, but the rhythm of the task kept her grounded. Beside her, Mina stirred the rice, her usual energy dampened but still present in the jokes she told.

They had made a pact to eat together, finding comfort in each other's company. Maybe during one of these meals, they would find some semblance of peace, even if just for a little while.

In Tsu's room, the atmosphere was different, heavy with the shared weight of darkness that clung to them like a second skin. Ochako and Tsu had taken to sleeping in Tsu's room, both girls haunted by nightmares. They found comfort in each other's presence, huddled together under the covers like two lost children seeking shelter from a storm.

Ochako’s hand moved gently through Tsu's hair, her fingers weaving a calming rhythm that seemed to blend with the steady beat of their hearts. Tsu's voice, usually so strong, had softened to a croak as she whispered back reassurances, her words mingling with Ochako's in a comforting lullaby. They clung to each other, finding safety in the closeness.

Todoroki sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to meditate. His mind, however, was a war zone, haunted by the image of his brother's burnt remains being hauled to prison and the knowledge of his parents' impending divorce. His scar throbbed painfully every time he thought about it, the physical reminder of his family's turmoil adding to his mental anguish. He took deep, measured breaths, trying to calm the storm inside him, but the images persisted, a relentless assault on his peace.

In another room, Aoyama sat hunched over, clutching a pillow tightly against his chest. He was allowed to stay at the school, but now he used tactical weapons, a constant reminder of the shame he felt. Tears streamed down his face, his muffled sobs filling the quiet room. The guilt of his actions, the sense of betrayal he had inflicted on his friends, weighed heavily on him. He whispered apologies into the night, his voice cracking with each word. The moonlight that spilled through his window bathed the room in a cold, silvery light, but it did nothing to lift the darkness that had settled over his heart. He didn’t deserve their forgiveness.

Iida scrolled through pictures of him and his brother, his heart aching with every swipe. The blue light from his phone screen cast a lonely glow in the dark room, reflecting off his foggy glasses. He wanted to call his brother, to hear his voice, but hesitated, worried about not appearing strong. He didn't want to burden anyone with his feelings, even though he longed for the comfort of his brother's voice. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.

Elsewhere in the dorms, Toru and Ojiro were connected by a fragile thread of comfort, falling asleep together on the phone. The silence was comforting, but they would panic if they couldn't hear the other breathing. Hatsume had finally made Toru a suit that would protect her and disappear with her during combat, but Toru hadn't wanted to put it on for a long time. They both dreaded the return to classes, haunted by the visions of devastation and innocent lives lost. The phone line crackled softly, their breathing synchronized in a fragile connection that kept their fears at bay.

Mineta and Shoji sat quietly in Shoji's room, each lost in their thoughts. Shoji's large hands rested on his knees, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. The memories of past battles and the fear of suddenly losing his classmates gnawed at him relentlessly. It was a fear that clung to him, insidious and ever-present, like a persistent bug he couldn't shake off.

Mineta, usually boisterous, was unusually quiet. The usual sparkle in his eyes was replaced by a haunted look, the guilt of his past behavior towards Mt. Lady and Midnight, and his female classmates, feeling icky and disgusted for treating them so pervertedly when they almost died weighed heavily on his conscience. The near-death experiences they had all faced brought him a new perspective, making his previous actions feel vile and unforgivable. The shame and regret twisted in his stomach, making it hard to meet Shoji's gaze or anyone else's.

The silence between them was heavy, but their presence provided each other a small measure of comfort.

The dorm was filled with a heavy silence, each student grappling with their own demons. Despite their proximity, they felt isolated in their pain, struggling to find a way to heal from the scars of the war. The evening stretched on, each tick of the clock a reminder that the night was still young.

And then there was Shouta Aizawa, awake in the stillness of the night with little Eri asleep in his arms. The soft, flickering light from the children's show on the television cast a gentle glow across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and tranquility. Eri, nestled against his chest, was fast asleep, her breaths coming in gentle, rhythmic intervals.

Aizawa's fingers moved softly through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his touch as he offered silent reassurance with each stroke. He knew he should tug her into bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. He needed a few more minutes with her warm presence, a reminder of the fragile yet resilient life he was entrusted with.

Aizawa's eyes wandered to his laptop, the screen dark and waiting. He sighed, knowing there were reports to review and emails to answer, but he decided it could stay shut. The digital demands of his work could wait; this moment with Eri was too precious to cut short.

His thoughts drifted to you, the new hire who had been a topic of much discussion. He didn't know much about you other than what Nemuri had mentioned before in passing and now in her lucid moments before slipping back into her coma.

He was visiting that night when Nemuri awoke and kept screaming your name, an indication of some message he didn't yet understand. You were coming over from somewhere outside Japan, and your media stunt piqued his curiosity.

Your hero name had made national headlines a few months ago when you openly condemned the world government for letting the villain situation in Japan deteriorate to the point where high school students had to step in as heroes in an interview. This statement had sparked national outrage, the impact of your statements was still reverberating throughout the world.

Parents, politicians, teachers, pro heroes, retired heroes, activists, universities, civilians and students had reshared the clip, their responses ranging from agreement to vehement opposition. Your boldness had shaken the status quo, making waves in a community that was already shaky and possibly past its edge.

Nezu’s decision to bring you on board was a calculated move, but the details of that calculation remained elusive. As the principal of U.A., Nezu was known for his shrewd, strategic thinking. If Nezu saw value in you, it was likely due to some unique qualities or capabilities you possessed that could benefit the school in ways not immediately apparent. There had to be a reason, a calculated move that Aizawa hadn't yet deciphered.

As he continued to stroke Eri's hair, he felt a mix of skepticism and curiosity about your arrival. What could you bring to U.A. that Nezu found so necessary? What kind of impact would you have on the students?

Eri stirred slightly, her tiny hand clutching his shirt. Aizawa smiled softly, his worries momentarily pushed aside.

He knew you had been spotted in Japan several times, not just as a spectator but actively involved in aiding the capture of remaining villains and providing relief to the heroes.

Your efforts extended beyond direct action; you had initiated several charities and secured sponsorships to support families devastated by villain attacks and heroes who were affected in the line of duty. These actions had garnered you a significant following and earned you a reputation for being a force for good in times of crisis.

Yet, despite your public persona, you maintained a guarded privacy. You refused to disclose details such as your age, height, or the reasons behind choosing an all-black shroud for your hero costume, apart from its emblem. You seemingly avoided media attention, declining certain magazine features and interviews.

Instead, you channeled your "celebrity" status towards advocating for societal change and supporting humanitarian causes. It was simple, if they wanted to talk to you, they had to donate. Your reluctance to engage with the press directly and your selective disclosures raised Aizawa's suspicions and defensive instincts, particularly when it came to the well-being of his students.

He was an underground hero himself. Why so worried?

Because he knew they were all suffering.

Nezu was in the process of trying to find a school therapist team that could be on call. And it killed him that he couldn't do anything about it other than allowing trips to the mall and being there when they got back. So he did not need a 'mysterious' loose cannon of a teacher negatively affecting them in any way. Any additional information he requested was denied under your contract binding the school to not show your image, ever. As far as he knew, only Nezu and Nemuri knew what you looked like.

He valued transparency and reliability in those who interacted with his students, qualities that seemed elusive in your case. The contrast between your public deeds and private secrecy only heightened his wariness.

Eri shifted in his lap, and Aizawa decided he didn't want to think about negative things while holding her. He gently scooped her up, placing her in her own bed and kissing her forehead before tucking the covers around her and turning on her cat night light before shutting the door, but not all the way. He made sure the nightlights in the hallway and bathroom were working before he forced himself to sleep in his bed and not on the couch because it was closer.

The darkness of his room offered a semblance of peace, but his mind remained active, turning over the complexities of the situation with you. It was his duty to safeguard his students from any potential threats, and that included being cautious about new additions to their environment.

As he closed his eyes, he tried to push aside the anxieties that had plagued him throughout the day. The comfort of his own bed, the familiar surroundings, and the knowledge that Eri was safe in the next room helped to ease the tension in his head. He had seen enough to know that vigilance was necessary, but he also knew that excessive worry would not serve him or his students well.

It didn't matter if you did end up being a bad influence. He would keep a close eye on you and be ready to stop anything that would harm his class.

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Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, If you wanna be added lemme know!

Chapter 2 is here.

That was the first chapter! So far there are 3 posted on my ao3 account.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Bakugou x Sugar Baby Reader here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

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4rmins · 3 days ago

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✐˚ ༘ 𓂃⊹ — 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟎𝟏

neito monoma x reader

in which. . . y/n l/n has always prided themselves on being a top student, driven by the need to succeed. earning a full-ride scholarship to ua university only further fueled their determination to excel even further. neito monoma, on the other hand, is the exact opposite in every way, except when it comes to academics. confident to the point of arrogance, neito monoma is brash, insufferably smug, and impossibly egotistical. with his sharp tongue and cocky attitude, he always finds a way of getting under y/n l/n's skin. since their first semester at ua, the two have been locked in an intense rivalry, competing for the top spot in every class they shared. what started off as a desire to prove themselves morphed into something far more personal. for y/n l/n, the rivalry outgrew mere academic competition, turning into deep-seated disdain for neito monoma. however, neito monoma's feelings are a different story. what started as competition between classmates has gradually turned into something far more complex: an unexpected attraction that he's reluctant to admit, but can't seem to shake. as the two enter their fourth semester at ua, their animosity remains as strong as ever. however fate, in the name of professor nemuri kayama, has other plans and they've been paired together for a semester-long project. forced to collaborate and co-exist in close proximity, their already volatile relationship reaches new levels of tension. with every interaction, their "mutual" dislike only deepens, and yet, something else begins to stir beneath the surface. neither of them are prepared for the consequences of being so close, where the lines between rivalry, contempt, and something else entirely become impossible to ignore. classification : quirkless!au, college!au, smau, written fiction trope : enemies to reluctant allies to lovers

warnings/potential triggers: cursing, usage of kys/kms humor, multiple gay jokes in the sense of “haha your gay” or “get this gay stuff off my screen”. i am gay so take that as you will. mentions of drug/alcohol use by supporting characters. mentions of being an engineering major.

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

introductions / sneak peaks.

taglist is open! comment or send in an ask to be added

taglist: @sikuthealien

#mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #monoma neito #neito x reader #monoma x reader #mha smau #4rmins.txt

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manias-wordcount · 24 days ago

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Retreat (Shouta Aizawa, Nemuri Kayama, Toshinori Yagi, Hizashi Yamada)

Kinktober 2024 Day Thirty-One: Service

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗗𝗮𝘆'𝘀 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗢𝗻𝗲-𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀: 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝘄𝗼 || 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲

People say if you don’t like your job, then it’s not for you. That’s what your friends always told you when you would shyly mention your strict office job. The one that would have you coming in at odd hours and never allowing visitors of any kind. It was best that they saw you leave the house every day in a pencil skirt and tights. Because it wouldn’t raise any questions. After all, not many people can handle a lifestyle like this.

But you like your job. Despite all that you know and hear about from other people in the same or similar industries, you’ve lucked out. Because you actually like your job. The agency you’re working for and the clientele that they cater to means that every job complete earns you a very generous paycheck nearly day in and day out. The type of paycheck you would have to hide from your friends, even. But you suppose you have to hide just about everything when it comes to this type of job.

Because when you’re sucking the dicks and sittings on the faces of the highest-ranked Pro-Hereoes in all of Japan, you’re bound to want to keep it a secret from all who know you. Just like they’re bound to want to keep it secret from all of the world that they’ve been booking you for parties and solo sessions in their own apartments and agencies and other places. But that’s just what comes with the territory. It comes with the territory when you’re a hired whore for Japan’s greatest.

So the secrecy is nothing new. Just like the meeting at one location only to be blindfolded and put into a car and shipped off to a second, more secret location is surprising and nothing new either. Just like seeing a set of cabins set up around a well-kept campground in the middle of the mountains when you’re finally allowed to take the blindfold off for just a few seconds is also nothing new. Because You’ve been hired to perform your services on retreats before. You’ve done the whole- service the entire company throughout the day while they’re supposed to be getting buddy-buddy with each other. Usually, while someone is ball-deep inside of you.

So in your mind, this is nothing new. This is nothing special. Nothing to be concerned about.

But then you started hearing voices surrounding you. Voices that you’ve heard before. Voices that you can put faces to. Voices that belong to people who had appeared on TV and in interviews. Voices that belong to people that you’ve serviced before. Voices that belong to a group you swear work at UA High School.

And suddenly, it makes perfect sense now that bodies are pressing up against yours, telling you how pretty you look while thanking some man named Nezu for “bringing out our favorite girl.” It makes perfect sense that everyone- every voice in the crowd that’s starting to mob you seems to know you with just one quick glance, even with the blindfold obscuring part of your face. It makes perfect sense that there are suddenly multiple pairs of lips pressing themselves against your skin in all the right spots, making you moan and gasp out in the way you know all your clients seem to like. Almost as if you're being hired and brought here has more to do with your pleasure than theirs.

Almost.

You know people too well. You know these people too well. You know these people too well to know that they’re not too concerned with the fact that you can easily start calling out hero names of those who start undressing and running their hands all over your body. You know these people too well that they were holding back earlier- because very rarely do your clients not try to jump your bones at first sight. But right now, you’re not concerned about the sore pussy and throat that’s bound to be in your future. You’re not really concerned at all. That said, it’s not like exactly in a position of power right now either.

The current position you’re in doesn’t offer much in terms of mobility. In fact, it’s much safer to say that you can’t move. They won’t let you. After all, you’re not theirs forever. In fact, if the mumbles you heard while you were being dragged away from the car and into the arms and cabins of the first group of people who got to indulge in your for the night were actually true, it sounds like you’re only here for half of their retreat.

It’s a time frame that's just long enough for you to do your job. Just long enough for you to make them cum a few times while running down the clock. But also, just long enough for your clients to maybe consider keeping you for longer than what you’re supposed to be.

So long as you’re not completely opposed to the idea, of course.

But at the moment, nobody is pitching your ideas. Nobody is talking to you about extending contracts or paying you under the counter if you just promise to stay a little bit longer than you’re supposed to. Nobody bringing anything of the sort up. Because they’re far too busy. Because they’re far too busy attending one of their meetings and wishing more than anything about how they desperately wish to have you. Or because they’re far too busy attending to you.

And you’re far too busy being attended to.

Right now, you’re not sure the chair whoever has you got on their lap is all that comfortable. It shifts and creaks and groans under the weight and force and pressure that’s under. It was meant for just one person to sit on, after all. Not one person, the hired whore he had sitting on his lap, and the all people currently surrounding the chair, trying to do anything in their power to have the hired whore help them get the release they’ve been desperately searching for. But things like this come with the job. The possibility of things getting rough. The possibility of things breaking. The possibility of them breaking you.

A very, very very real possibility given this particular crowd who is currently surrounding you. Including the special someone you’re currently sitting on. Although at this point, you’re more than comfortable calling that special someone by name. Because even if you didn’t know the voice right by your ear so well from all his appearances and from listening to his radio show during all the late nights when you would have to find your way home from work, you have a funny feeling that you would still be able to guess that guy with his cock buried in your ass at the moment is none other than Present Mic.

You’ve had a lot of gentle customers before. You’ve had a lot of people who never wanted to do more than just sit you on their lap and let one of your holes flutter and squeeze around whatever they put in their- fingers, strap-ons, dicks, vibrators, etc. You’ve even had a few people who wanted nothing more than to just have you grind against them while they kissed your lips and struggled to hold back their desire to mark you. Ruining the merchandise comes with a hefty fee, after all.

But Present Mic was more than just gentle. He was soft. During all the times you’ve been with him, he’s always made sure that his cock was plenty wet and you were plenty lubed up so he would cause any tears with that surprisingly thick cock of his. He would always give you ample time to adjust to feeling him inside of you and would allow you to move around as much as you needed to in order to get comfortable. But what made him stand out? What made it so you knew this was him? It was the fact that he was always humming and placing small, tiny kisses right behind your ear. Occasionally singing just loud enough that only you could hear about how you’re his pretty girl- his soft, sweet, gorgeous girl who deserves whatever she wants.

And if he could sample your moans just to keep for himself, he would do it in a heartbeat.

But Present Mic and sweet murmurs and subtle rolls of his hips every couple of seconds to stay locked inside of you is just a far cry from the person who’s currently pounding away at your pussy at the moment. Once again- the blindfold keeps you from seeing just exactly who is causing you to whine and squeal as they manage to hits those spots deep inside of you that would have you drooling all over yourself if it weren’t for the cock in your mouth. But you have a funny feeling that it’s none other than Ersaerhead- the Erasure Hero. Because whenever you find yourself with Present Mic, you find that Ersaerhead never seems to be too far behind. Or in this case, in front of you.

And besides, you know those grunts of his a little too well.

“Still so tight for me,” Eraserhead’s low mumble comes just by your ear, sending small shivers down your throat as his heavy tone only seems to add to the godly sensation of his cock dragging itself in and out of your warm, wet walls and keeping you stuffed full. He’s thicker than Present Mic by just a little bit. Such a fact makes it more appropriate for Present Mic always go for anal whenever the two of them get a chance to fuck you together. But doesn’t exactly make it all that easier for you to handle when Eraserhead’s tight grip on your thighs as he pries them up and open so he can fuck you harder than ever also jostles you in a way that has moving around Present Mic’s lap a little too. Something that the Voice Hero makes known to you by the way his own grip tightens around your waist to keep you in place as he tries his hisses and groans of pleasure. “Fuck, you make this who retreat worth it. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You let out another whine at his words, eyes starting to water behind your blindfold from the intensity of his fucking and from the small wave of emotions rolling over you. To be honest, you didn’t know that. You don’t get very many details about the types of events you’re booked for. For this one, you just knew that someone wanted you to come with them and one of their co-workers for a little bit of morale-boosting during a worker’s retreat. You wouldn’t have guessed that this was a UA-affiliated event before you got here and started to hear all the voices of people who you know are only connected through that school. And you didn’t exactly have enough time to think about what all that entails before a few members of the group started pulling you to the side and pulling off your clothes while the others went to start their first round of meetings.

So no, you didn’t know that. You know about their bodies. You know how they treat pretty girls like you. You know how they like to use the bodies of pretty girls you, too. And sure, you always get the funny feeling that when you’re being booked for events like this, you’re serving as more of a distraction than anything else. But you still don’t know the ins and outs of these types of events and what you do for the people there except to give them an excuse to pull off their clothes and release some stress.

So Ersaerhead’s words inspire something warm inside of you. The feeling of being appreciated. The feeling of being appreciated for a little more than just your body. Perhaps even for your presence. But as much as you wanted to respond be a good girl for the man who’s taking the time to do everything in his power to make sure stuffing your pussy full of his cock feels as good to you as does for him, you can’t respond. You can’t respond to his question. You just can’t.

And it’s all because of that cock that’s currently kissing the back of your throat. The very same cock that in your mind, still seems nearly too large to belong to a human.

Because no matter how much you try to deep throat it- no matter how much you try to find inside of your mouth with your years of experience- you can barely make it down a few inches. You can barely make it past the tip. It’s frustrating. It’s so frustrating that you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut and control your breathing and just try harder. Try harder to flatten your tongue. Try harder to open your jaw wider. Try harder to get him farther down your throat. But the cock inside of your mouth is not just long- it’s thick. It’s heavy in your mouth and leaves you with nothing to do but struggle and make a mess of yourself as his precum mixes with your saliva and pools all around your lips.

But as frustrating as it is, you know that it’s okay. You’re okay. Because the booming voice of Japan’s number one hero- the booming voice of All Might- still takes the time to remind you that you’re off just how far you’ve gone from when you were first starting out. From when you were first servicing him.

“There you go, sweetheart.” All Might groans deep and low. His voice is still radiant. It still holds clear. But there’s something particularly attractive about how well his low moans and grumbles of measure mix in with the rest of the sounds in the room. In your mind, it’s almost as attractive as whenever he decides to have his large, large hands cup your jaw in an attempt to ease the pain and soreness he knows you’re suffering from just so you be a good girl and do what you’re told for him. “You’re taking me so well this time.”

Naturally, isn’t the first time you’ve sucked off the Symbol of Peace. But this is certainly the longest he’s been down your throat without you having to spit him out and take in oxygen like it was stolen away from you by the trickiest of thieves. And because of that, he takes extra care of making sure that you’re as comfortable as you can be. He doesn’t fuck your throat like you’re sure he wants to.

Though you suppose the fact that the R-Rated Hero is behind standing behind the chair at the moment- reaching around and over the men whose cocks in currently situated in both your ass and pussy in order to hold your hair back and guide your head in a way that would best suck on All Might’s cock like the lollipop she keeps reminding you that it is.

Although Midnight’s help in directing the scene isn’t quite necessary for you to have a good time anymore because years in this service have taught you how to speak up for yourself, you find that it’s much appreciated. There’s still some part of you that get so disoriented when someone ties a blindfold tight around your eyes while someone else forgets that you just can’t magically find the dick in front of you that someone wants you to jerk off. There’s still some part of you that appreciates another woman there, convincing you to push yourself harder and harder- reminding you of what your body’s true limits are too.

That, and the fact that she keeps whispering hushed words about how she promises she’ll take you aside tonight when everyone’s asleep and have you squirting all over her tongue the second she can get her hands on you is also very appreciated. And something you already know you’re looking forward to.

But that’s a couple hours from now. And as good as the future sounds, what you’re dealing with presently certainly comes with its own excitements. Because just now, Present Mic has begun to roll his hips into yours a little faster, now finding it in him to empty his load inside of you. Though the fact that Ersaerhead had just now begun to reach down and let his skillful hands and find your clit- making you moan and whine “so sweetly for him, only” may have something to do with that. And it doesn’t help that Midnight had just guided your lips from All Might’s cock with a lewd and audible pop as she eased your head in a different direction so you could start sucking someone else’s dick. Much to the Symbol of Peace’s displeasure.

But that’s just what you have to deal with when you’re servicing for a group. That’s just what you have to deal with a group has to share you for a retreat. There’s the added promise of having a pretty girl and all her holes open for use as long as she's treated well before, during, and afterward.

But that’s not something you feel the need to concern yourself with. Any issues they have with each other, they can sort out with each other. There’s no need for you to get involved. There’s no need for you to step in at all. Because after all, you’re just the hired whore- the special little sex worker for Pro-Heroes and for Pro-Heroes alone. And besides…this retreat right now? This session right now?

It’s for you as much as it’s for them too.

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tired-teacher-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

It has been a week already since that fateful day, and during the time nothing has really changed for you, you still get up early to go to work and spend the day relishing the happy smiles and cute stories of your customers as they rave about their dear ones who'd be receiving the fragrant blooms.

You still watch out the window for the locked tattoo studio across the street, breathing heavily as time nears his arrival.

You still roam the fictional realm you've built for yourself and the artist named Aizawa, your heart still skips a beat whenever your eyes meet with his black ones, and your mind still goes blank every evening when he greets you.

One thing has changed since then though, and it's the beautiful red rose traced on your skin.

You smile melancholically as you run your fingers along it, it's healing nicely but your heart is not, so maybe you will have to finally let go of your delusions, you -at least- have a reminder of him engraved in your skin now, and that's more than you can dream of attaining.

_ "Hello." a voice brings you back to your senses, a new costumer perhaps.

_ "Welcom.." you start as you shake off your innermost thoughts and prepare to receive the mysterious person, but this person is not mysterious at all, "Mr Aizawa." this person is him.

He stands a bit awkwardly at the door, smiling sheepishly while shoving his hands in his pants' pockets.

He looks almost cute, it's a new side of him that you're not used to seeing, but you love it.

_ "Please come in," you round the counter in a hurry to reach him, almost tripping over your own two feet in the process, "welcome to my humble shop."

You have never seen him under the illumination of daylight before, but now that you have, your amazement is only growing and your wish to take in every small detail of his handsome face is dominating your whole body.

_ "This place is beautiful, really soothing and serene." his eyes travel across every cozy corner of your little shop, lingering on the gorgeous flowers as they stood proudly in their vases.

_ "That's.. so nice of you, thank you, it really means a lot." never in a million years would you have thought to hear him mention your shop, let alone visit it, and it feels like a dream.

_ "So, you must be wondering why I'm here," he clears his throat before uttering, running a hand through his luscious locks as he continues, "I wanted to check in on you and see if you're healing well," he continues while glancing at your arm.

_ "Oh! Yeah.. yes, it feels so much better, it's almost completely healed actually," you are caught off guard by his statement, bringing your arm up slightly and staring at your new tattoo just so you wouldn't look at him, since the blush creeping up your cheeks is now too bright to hide.

_ "Great, and it looks good on you by the way." he replies softly, and you can clearly sense a smile in his words, but you're still too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

The air is strangely pleasant and comfortable around you, even though it probably shouldn't be, considering the circumstances, but you've always felt this way with him near, and you've always found it weird, that the mere thought of him is enough to calm your heart.

_ "Mr Aizawa!" your head snaps up abruptly, and your eyes sparkle as you call out his name -perhaps a bit louder than you have hoped- before running to the section of your shop where the dark pink roses are displayed, and leaving the stunned man behind.

His mouth falls slightly open, and his eyes blink in confusion while watching you skillfully cut the fresh blooms at a perfect angle and gather them in a stunning bouquet before walking back to him.

_ "These are for you," you hold out the roses for him, a shy smile appears on your face as you do, "the dark pink ones are a sign of appreciation and gratitude, and this is exactly how I feel right now," you lower your head again as your blush deepens, "you were so sweet and patient with me when I came to your studio, I will never forget that."

He takes the bouquet from your extended hands and holds it close to himself, but for once he seems lost for words as his eyes move between you and the sweet scented flowers, so you continue, "I know this is probably not something that would normally interest you, but I hope you don't hate them too much." and you giggle shyly while fiddling with your fingers.

_ "I love them, they're as beautiful as you are." his gaze is trained on you as he breathes out, and he does not miss the slight shiver shaking your body when hearing his words.

He pauses for a moment, contemplating what to say next before it turns awkward around you.

_ "So, there is something that I want to ask you," his tone turns into a serious one, prompting a hitch in your breathing as you eagerly await for him to continue, and he does, "would you like to go out with me for dinner sometime?"

He's asking you out, he actually is, this isn't a dream is it? What if you're misunderstanding? He can't possibly mean for it to be anything intimate or romantic like you hope it would be, right? There is no way..

_ "You mean.." you have to make sure, but the words refuse to leave your mouth.

_ "I mean, would you like to go on a date with me?" there, he said it for you.

A rush of emotions ripples through you as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen in sheer surprise, you have always dreamt of this moment and even built it up in your brain ever since you laid eyes on him, yet never have you ever thought it would come to be, but this isn't a fantasy anymore, this is real.

_ "Yes, yes I'd love that."

To be continued..

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needtoloveoutloud · 2 months ago

Text

Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. — MHA x fem!OC One-Shot

Characters: Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead), Nemuri Kayama (Midnight), Yoru Aizawa (fem!OC), Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic, mentioned), Oboro Shirakumo (Loud Cloud, mentioned) Hitoshi Shinso (mentioned), Yaeko Shinso (OC, Hitoshi's mother, mentioned), cats (called Sleepy, Toshi, and Cloud), Uni (Yoru's unicorn plushie), Mrs. Kubo (Yoru's kindergarten teacher, mentioned)

Summary: Yoru finds out that her Dad has a new tattoo.

Word count: ~ 2,6k

Reading time: 15–20 mins

Genre: fluff, small hints of angst (OC thinks back to a bad experience in the past)

Warnings: none, Nemuri refers to her “lady parts” in one instance, Yoru remembers a bad experience from the past

Setting: Prequel, Yoru is four years old. This story is set in the universe of my fan fiction series “Shadows of Our Past, Present, and (possible) Future”. You can read it on AO3 >>here<< or find out more about it >>here<<. It can still be read as a fluffy one-shot without having read the story, though I think it feels more impactful if you at least read the prequel first.

Song: Yellow — Coldplay (link to Spotify)

Author's Note: This is based on a >>request<<. For a visual representation of Shota's tattoos, you can find them >>here<<.

Read on AO3: You can read it on AO3 >>here<<.

Don't copy, steal, or plagiarize my stuff. Please and thank you.

Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you.

Yoru knows the sounds.

She always stays awake for them. Though, this time, trying to stay awake is a little bit more difficult after Muri read her a really nice bedtime story about a rainbow fish with colorful and glittery scales that he shared with other fish and made them happy because then every other fish looked pretty just like the rainbow fish.

But she manages to stay awake, fighting against big yawns and heavy eyelids until she hears the sounds of heavy footsteps that try to be as quiet as possible and the rattling of keychains that sound so familiar, Yoru might even be able to mimic the sounds on her little DJ set she got from Santa a while ago.

“Uni,” Yoru whispers. “Daddy’s home. Did you hear?”

Uni, as per usual, is more the quiet type, so she doesn’t reply, but that’s fine. Yoru knows that Uni heard Mister Caterpillar Daddy coming back home, too. Sleepy and Toshi and Cloud (all nestled around Yoru) heard him come home, too, because they make those little chirping noises that they sometimes make and that always remind Yoru of the doves in the park.

She hears him talk in a low and quiet voice with Muri for a moment, before the soft light that shines from the living room into her open bedroom gets disturbed by a tall something peeking into her room that casts a shadow on Yoru in her bed. Yoru, who’s supposed to be sleeping.

So, she quickly shuts her eyes and pretends.

A few moments later, the tall something that blocked the light leaves again. It’s what he always does when he isn’t home, and it’s Zashi or Muri tugging Yoru into bed. Daddy comes home, checks on Yoru, washes his hands, takes a shower and talks to Zashi or Muri before getting ready for bed himself. Or he’s looking at some boring letters or papers that Yoru’s not allowed to draw on.

“Everything okay today?”

“Yep. An angel, as always. Look, I even got two new braids.” Muri quietly but happily seems to show off the pretty braids Yoru put into her hair after they (more Muri than Yoru) cleaned the kitchen after dinner. “Though, would you mind explaining why Yoru asked me if I would be the one training with her today?”

“She probably asked you because I was on patrol and not available.”

“That’s not what I mean, Shota. I mean, what does she mean with ‘training’?”

Pause.

“Hand-to-hand.”

“WHAT-”

“Shhh!”

Another pause.

Oh, no!

Did Yoru get her Dad into trouble with Muri? Muri doesn’t sound happy. She hugs Uni a little bit tighter.

“It’s just a bit of self-defense. And she has fun while training.”

“Clearly.” Muri scoffs. “She smiled while she punched me in my lady parts.”

Pause.

“Sorry.” A sigh. Then, another pause. “But was it a solid hit?”

“Are you- yes, it was. As well as a four-year-old can hit, at least. But that’s not the point, you idiot. She can’t go around punching people between the legs out of nowhere.”

“Well, it was training. And she knows that’s a good area to hit your opponent.”

“Yes, except, I am a woman, in case you haven’t noticed. So, I didn’t topple down like a guy who got punched in the di-”

“Kayama!” Daddy whisper shouts, stopping Muri mid-sentence. For whatever reason. It’s weird, though. He doesn’t like to be interrupted, and he doesn’t like doing it to other people, either. What was Muri about to say?

“Fine, fine, whatever. Little ears and all, I know. Anyway, how was patrol?”

“Same as always. Drunk morons, one purse-snatcher, otherwise pretty quiet.”

“Any cats?”

“Hilarious.”

“Well, were there?”

Pause.

“Yes.”

“I knew it! And I bet you took pictures again, too, right? To show her in the morning?”

“Obviously.”

Yes! New cat pictures! Yoru loves those. Her Daddy always finds the cutest cats when he’s a hero.

But Yoru has no idea what a ‘persatcher’ is. Or was it ‘purr satcher’?

Are there people who steal cats?

That would be scary.

Yoru’s glad Sleepy and her children are safe and sound at home and not on the street anymore, where it’s dangerous and cold and people could snatch you and steal you anytime.

Muri breaks Yoru out of her scary memories. “But you didn’t break a sweat, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not allowed to sweat with new tattoos, right? At least for like a day or two or something?”

New tattoos? What?

“It’s actually about a week, better if you don’t excessively sweat for a couple, really. But to answer your question, no. I’ve still got the protective film dressing wrapped around it. Too soon to take it off.”

“So you’re saying she hasn’t seen it yet?”

“No.”

It takes Yoru a while to fall asleep after listening in to her Daddy’s and her Muri’s conversation about the possibility of a new tattoo (or perhaps even more than one?!) she will be able to color in soon.

She hopes it’s as pretty as the others are.

The next morning, after breakfast, Yoru decides it’s time to address the matter at hand. So, she strides up to her Dad, sitting on the couch. “Daddy?”

“Mhm?” He looks up from one of his books without pictures.

“Do you have a secret?”

He furrows his brows at her in confusion. “A secret?”

“Mhm.” Yoru nods. “A new drawing.” He still looks confused, so Yoru clarifies. “Tattoo.”

He sighs, closing his book. “I do. But it seems like I’m not the only one with a secret, mhm? You pretended to be asleep last night.”

“No.”

“Yoru.”

“Yes.”

“Sweetheart, it was late. You need your sleep. Only because you don’t have kindergarten today doesn’t mean you should stay up late.”

“But you stay up late!” Yoru argues.

“I am an adult. You need more sleep than I do.” Pause. His eyes trail down to Yoru’s hands, perched on his knees to hold herself up steadily. “You’re still small. If you want to grow bigger so you can learn to play the guitar, you need your sleep. Remember?”

He’s right. Yoru pouts. Her Dad sighs.

“To answer your question,” He starts again, “Yes, I have a new tattoo. But it needs to heal more, so you can’t color it in yet.”

“Can I see?” Yoru beams up at him, trying to contain her excitement but failing.

“It’s still wrapped in a protective film, so no. Not yet. In a few days, okay?”

“What’s a protective film?”

“It’s like a band-aid for tattoos. Helps it heal quicker.”

“Okay.” Yoru nods. “Then put more on so it heals even quickerer, Daddy. Okay?”

She’s allowed to see the new drawing on his skin a couple of days later. Not that Yoru didn’t ask every single day whether today was the day she got to see it. Even told Toshi about it in kindergarten (he thinks it's both cool and weird to have drawings on your skin that apparently never go away).

But once Yoru sits on the floor in front of her Dad and inspects his arm, she doesn’t know what to make of it. “What is it?”

It’s a dark gray, almost black band around the muscles of his upper arm. There is a shooting star in the middle, with smaller stars around. And there’s a moon.

“It’s the night.”

“Why do you get a drawing of the night? The night is scary.” Yoru states. “I don’t like it.”

“Mhm.” He looks at the tattoos above the new one for a moment. The ones that wrap around his arm tightly, like the hairbands Yoru keeps wrapped around her own wrist sometimes. “But you like the other ones, right?”

Yoru nods.

“Do you know what they mean?”

She shakes her head no.

“So, this one here is for Yamada.”

“Zashi.” Yoru corrects.

“Right.”

“Why are the suns for Zashi?”

“Because of his name. ‘Hizashi’ means ‘Sun’, ‘Sunlight’, or ‘Sunshine’. So, he gets suns.”

“Is he called that because of his pretty hair? It’s gold, like the sun.”

“No, but it would fit, wouldn’t it?”

Yoru nods. It definitely would. Zashi’s hair is beautiful and shiny and like a princess’.

“The clouds below,” Her Dad continues. “Are for Oboro.”

“Because his name means ‘Clouds’?”

“No. His hero name was ‘Loud Cloud’. So, it’s for that. He could make clouds.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. How can someone make clouds?”

“The same way Kaya- Muri can make people fall asleep, Zashi can make his voice really loud, I can stop people from using their quirks, and you can make shadow portals and go to the shadow world. It was his quirk.”

“Awesome!” Yoru proclaims, gently tracing the clouds on her Daddy’s arm.

He nods. “Indeed. He could even sit on them and fly on them.”

“That is so awesome!” Yoru repeats. “Do you think he would have let me fly on them, too?”

“No doubt. But only a meter above the ground, maximum. I don’t want you to fall off and hurt yourself.”

“Okay.” She nods. It makes sense. Yoru also wouldn’t want to get hurt. Then again, flying on a cloud sounds super cool.

“The ones below are the phases of the moon. Those are for Kayama.”

“Muri.” Yoru corrects, again.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do you remember her hero name?”

Yoru needs to think. Daddy’s name is Eraserhead. That, she can remember. Zashi is Presence Mike. What was Muri’s name again…?

“Midnight?” She tries. It was Midnight, wasn’t it?

“Yes, exactly. Midnight. What goes around my arm here are the phases of the moon. You know how it sometimes gets bigger, then it’s completely round, and then it gets smaller again? I thought the moon would be nicer for her than a clock that simply shows that it’s Midnight.”

Yoru agrees. Clocks are boring. “Oh, that’s true!”

There’s a moment of silence while Yoru continues to trace the drawings on her Daddy’s skin. The drawings for Zashi, and Oboro, and Muri.

“Do you remember what Mrs. Kubo said on your first day at kindergarten?”

“Mrs. Kubo talks a lot. I can’t remember all of it.” Yoru confesses.

“She said that your name has similar kanji to ‘compose poetry’. But that it’s main meaning is ‘night’.”

Yoru remembers now. She didn’t like it. She doesn’t like the dark, so she doesn’t like the night. The nights were the scariest when she was still sleeping in her big box in the little hidden street. And she can’t read or write yet, so the poetry thing doesn’t suit her either.

“This tattoo is for you, Sweetheart.”

Yoru stops tracing the tattoos and stares up at her Daddy with wide eyes. “Me?”

“It’s the night." He nods. "Can you see the moon? And the shooting star? And all the little ones?”

“But it’s scary.” She mumbles, fiddling with the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting it in her fist.

“I like it.”

“Why?”

“Because you can only see the stars at night. You can’t see them when it’s day and bright outside. You need the dark to be able to see them. Same with shooting stars. They are very rare. But you can only see them on a clear night and if the time is right. Sometimes you can only see things when it’s dark.”

“Mhm.” Yoru’s not convinced.

“Uni’s horn shines brighter when it’s dark, right? Same with your string lights?”

That’s true. Uni’s horn is so much prettier when it’s dark. Same with her little lights. Yoru guesses he’s got a point about the stars at night, too. But there’s something else that she remembers.

She settles down between his crossed legs, her back to his front, and gently strokes over her Daddy’s arms. “Zashi said that you get to make a wish when you see a shooting star. He read a book to me about it before bedtime a little bit ago.”

She feels her back softly vibrate with his voice when he speaks up. “Did he now?”

“Mhm.” Yoru nods. “But you’re not supposed to say what you wish for when you see a shooting star, or it won’t come true.”

“Then you get to make a wish every time you see your tattoo here.”

That makes sense.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I color them in? And Zashi’s sun, and Oboro’s clouds, and Muri’s moons?”

Yoru’s allowed to color the stars in two weeks later. Apparently, the tattoo needed to heal some more before any coloring could happen.

Once her Daddy’s tattoos are completely colored in again, she proudly beams at her finished art project. “Okay, you can move again!”

He wasn’t allowed to move for a while, receiving a scolding from Yoru, who always takes her work very seriously.

Lifting his arm, he angles his head to inspect Yoru’s amazing (if she does say so herself) job. “Well done, Sweetheart.” Her Daddy shoots her one of his smiles that aren’t as big as Zashi’s or Toshi’s or Muri’s or Yeko’s, but are still very honest. “Thank you.”

“I made the stars shine!” Yoru proudly states. “Now we get to make a wish! You, too, Daddy!”

“Mhm.” He scans the room, when his eyes stop on his guitar and his lips uptick even more. “Are you in the mood for a little song?”

“My lullaby?” Yoru furrows her brows. “Is it bedtime already?”

“No, another one. I didn’t write this one, but I learned it years ago.”

“Yes!” Yoru jumps up and scrambles up on the couch, readying herself for a performance. She loves it when her Dad plays the guitar and sings for her. A few seconds later, he sits down next to her, angling his body towards her so she can see the movement of his fingers.

After tuning the guitar (he told her what that was a while ago, when she asked what he was doing), he begins to play.

“Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yeah, they were all yellow

I came along

I wrote a song for you

And all the things you do

And it was called Yellow

So then I took my turn

Oh, what a thing to have done

And it was all yellow

Your skin, oh yeah, your skin, and bones

Turn into something beautiful

And you know, you know I love you so

You know I love you so

I swam across

I jumped across for you

Oh, what a thing to do

'Cause you were all yellow

I drew a line

I drew a line for you

Oh, what a thing to do

And it was all yellow

And your skin, oh yeah, your skin, and bones

Turn into something beautiful

And you know, for you, I'd bleed myself dry

For you, I'd bleed myself dry

It's true

Look how they shine for you

Look how they shine for

Look how they shine for you

Look how they shine

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And all the things that you do”

Years later, that song is set as Yoru’s morning alarm.

It’s the first thing she hears when she wakes up to get ready for middle school.

The first thing she hears when she wakes up to get ready for a day out with Toshi.

And it’s the first thing she hears on her first day of U.A.

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