#def into biting and spiting

[enha-stars]

oh i’m having major sunghoon thoughts rn 🫠🫠

[csbnova]

bro I wanna kiss the lil aggressive shark dog, bf texts for Raichi if you feel like it mayhaps 👀

raichi bf texts ᥫ᭡

tags: fluff, f. reader, swear words, hs au

a/n: erm ignore the fuck ass writing mistakes i hate going back and editing texts bc it’s so problematic 🙄

SHARK DOG IS TAKING ME OUTTTT i love bullying him sm (he’d def bite me out of spite)

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guys…the feral ones are the most fun to do

continuations of previous boys will indeed be posted sometime

YES!! raichi DOES have an older sister thanks for asking

be honest do yall even read these after notes😕

[primmise]

☆ genshin men pp head canons but i slowly get more unhinged

first post lmfaoo, i’m not the best at writing, keep that in mind

—

gn-ish reader, they have a hole and it is used.

warnings: shower/bath sex, rut (gorou, tighnari, zhongli), face sitting, size kink..? some r inexperienced, cockwarming, sir kink, slight voyeurism? roleplay, knifeplay n blood (childe), shibari, praise, degrading, temperature play?blowjobs, some r also touched starved, some sensitive. spelling & grammatical errors

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

includes: kaveh, itto, thoma, gorou, aether, baizhu, alhaitham, ayato, tartaglia, cyno, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, scaramouche/wanderer, heizou, tighnari, xiao, zhongli, dottore, pantalone, capitano, dainsleif

kaveh

not too large, not too small (14.99 cm/5.9 in) nothing will convince me that he’s not submissive. his tip is probably a pretty brownish pink (#c27c89) pretty sensitive as well, could cum (#faf8ed) from just the slightest touch of your fingers. luvs being overstimmed, sometimes he has you over just to spite al haitham.. he knows al haitham can hear him, so.. let’s consider this revenge.

itto

mans huge. 20 cm (7.8 in) AT LEAST. i mean he’s a fucking oni.. tip is like a beige-pink type color (#ffa899) uhhh he probably has a prety vein going up the side of his cock (#c1b2eb) he also probably has a fucking prince albert piercing, one that vibrates maybe.. def has a size kink, he just loves seeing ur face twinge in pain when he thrusts into you, by the time he’s spilling his cum into you you’re in tears, head thrown back and scratching his back in pain.

idk abt him tho

thoma

either a soft dom or plain submissive, loves pleasing you but also loves being spoiled if he had a long day,,, idk maybe a switch tbh… around 6.8 inches, pink!! he’s pink i love pink and i love him #ff87a1 probably,,, well trimmed, i mean i can see him having an entire skincare routine, my little princess frrrr….. sensitive nipples, probably just touch starved in general. secretly likes being degraded

gorou

bark bark. 14 cm (5.5inches) he def whimpers. i want to say its pink but it’s probably more on the beige side (#e6aea3) i dont rlly have much to say abt him, he likes biting……. begs, whines and more whimpers when he’s ina rut, a cutie indeed

aether

pent up 100%, been in teyvat for god knows how many years and bro has not felt the touch of a woman since beidou’s hangout event. 7 inches exactly, pretty pink #f5a9a9, he probably whines and groans cause he’s a cutie patootie probably likes being praised

baizhu

physically cannot be rough with you he will most likely collapse. likes being beneath you, can sub but prefers being dominant (he’s the doctor, he should be caring for you.) he’s a nice size, 7.2 inches. probably has messy handwriting bc he’s lettin u suck him off under his desk/j.. anyways he’s like a pink but like?? idk #b57f83. slutty moans, he’s super loud i bet. when he’s subbing he loves geting his hair pulled

ALHAITHAMMMMMM

my man fr. i love the idea of him being submissive but i’d heavily doubt he would ever sub… anyway he’s probably into being called sir. trims when he feels like it. i want to say he’s a virgin so badly. 7.4 inches at most, i hc him as more tan than he actually is but anyways tip is brown#947e76 pretty brown tho (brown is one of my fave colors) can be rlly rough or rlly gentle, it depends. would be opposed to the idea of letting u suck him off while he’s reading but eventually lets you (he had to bookmark where he began reading so he could reread it, he was too distracted) IF HE DID SUB HE WOULD WHIE,PR AND DEFINTIELY BE LOUD ENOUGH TO BE HEARD EVEN IF YOU WORE HIS HEADPHONES (poor kaveh) sensitive nipples, whines and furrows his eyebrows when you lick them.

ayato

tease. 17.9 cm (7inches exact) now he’s definitely pink and nothing can convince me otherwise, probably a light pink too like #947e76,, like alhaitham,he can be rlly rough or rlly gentle. he breathes heavily and groans, probably into shibari and degrading…. quickies in his office, maybe cockwarming if he feels up to it

ajax

……. he’s probably into some werid shit (no offense) like knifeplay n blood,, i mean he loves sparring so much, so why not incorporate it into sexy time in some way? yk his skill? yea he holds that thing up to ur throat when hes fuckin u (if ur not into that he wont do it ofc bc he actually cares abt u) rough if he had a long day n is super impatient, but slow if he just wants to break you. he loves blowjobs most of the time he’s near fully clothed and yourcompletely naked but if u beg him enough he’ll undres,, he has scars on his chest, and freckles bc cutie… i forgot to put this but he’s probably 7-7.2 inches, #de97a7.

cyno

he’s pretty. probably into roleplay (predator/prey type thing.. personally i’m not but i feel like he is) he’s a nice size.. (6.9 inches) (funny number on purpose.) browm tip #9c7868, really pretty when he fucks u, eyebrows furrowed n biting his lip hard enough he might draw blood. also loves teasing you when he gets the chance, loves hearing you beg, you’re adorable to him.

diluc

human heater!!! hngh i need him. HE loves being called sir…. won’t admit it. he’s big but doesn’t know, bet he’s inexperienced. his tip is literally almost red, #9c7868. either a rough dom, gentle dom, or whiney sub. if u do top him, tease him whenever you get the chance and he’ll go almost as red as his hair n deny everything despite it being true. adelinde always gets a lil suspicious when u come over… but off the topic of that, he rlly enjoys doing it in the shower/bath. it’s warm (orcold), it’s wet, and he’s with you. what more could he want? you have fucked in the tavern after it closed, and you probably will not do it again. (you got a few splinters.)

kaaaaeeeya!!!

he’s like,, really cold. it’s surprising. feels good tho, for the both of you. he’s really loud as well, and despite him being louder than you he shoves his fingers in your mouth to shut you up,, maybe you’ll have to give him something to gag on. anyways he’s like around 7.1 inches, tip is a nice deep pink #ad6d78. looooves cockwarming, like literally you’re warming hiim up because his body temperature is…… quite freezy! tease, praise, degrading, all of it. dom but will sub if you edge him enough (grinding on his thigh, palming him, or just denying him of his orgasm plenty)

kazuha

he’s gentle, look me in the eyes and tell me this man could be rough with you. 5.9 inches, always making sure you’re okay before continuing. he loves hearing you moan his name, he manages to say yours as well between whimpers. you rarely have anywhere to do it other than the storage room in the crux, so sometimes you just gotta stay at the wangshu inn and pray nobody heard. no edging because he’s not mean but he does prepare you good, overstims you with permission. loves when you praise him, and he knows you love it when he praises you.

ok. scaramouche.

he is definitely a bratty sub. no words you speak can change my mind, he’s a slut. he’s so bratty until he’s in your mouth, whining, whimpering, gripping the sheets and tears forming in the corner of his eyes. he’s crying at how good it feels, how he wants to feel more of you, he’s barely able to form proper sentences after you just sucking him off, so now you wonder what he’d be like with him being deep inside you. he’s 7 inches, prety pink-beige tip as well (#f0b2a3). hairpulling is a yes. he just loves you so much, play with him some more and he bets his little puppet brain will turn into mush.

heizou!

pretty! i love the moles under his eyes aaaa…. he’s a nice size like kazuha, just a tad bit bigger (6.8), deeper pink, #d9626f. he loves teasing you so much, but he also loves being teased by you. when he’s not the dominant one he breathes heavily, some soft moans escape him. but when he is the dominant one, he’ll ensure he’s fucking you good. he’ll ask ‘does this feel nice?’ knowing it does by the way you’re almost crying on him.

tighnari!

submissive. 5.8 inches will probably bite his lip in attempt to shut himself up, but to no avail. loves when you bite his ears, they will twitch and it’s adorable. he’s just so cute. when he’s in a rut he’s so much louder. more whimpering and more of not knowing where the hell to put his hands. on your hips? your chest? your ass? fuck, he’s confused but he wants more, he wants to feel more of you. pretty light pink! #ff919e!

xiaoo

he’s inexperienced but he tries his best to be the dominant one, shaky breaths and moans escape his mouth. he tries to be gentle with you because, well, you’re a mortal and he’s an adeptus, you would be surprised how rough he can get. will make out with you while fucking you, and will happily let you sit on his face. he’s 7 inches, #e09e96. he cums super quick, 100% making sure to pull out (unless instructed to do otherwise)

ZHONGLI.

okay. he’s big. he’s a fucking archon, he’s 8 inches at LEASTT. yknow that pattern on his arm? yeah i like to think that’s on his dick too. tip is #d9b750, cause yk his arms.. he loves you, he wouldn’t want to hurt you but when you’re just begging him to be rough with you, to do whatever the hell he wants to you.. how could he resist? you’re the one asking him.. so.. he’ll let it slip this once. you don’t regret your words when the lower half of your body is hanging off of the bed, him manhandling you while the only thing you can do is bury your head into that pillow and let those pretty tears escape your eyes. he lets out literal feral moans and grunts, you think this is what he’s like when he goes into a rut, but.. ppfft, you underestimate him.

dottore my bbg

he’s probably like,, 7.4 inches? idk he looks big and i want him in me. doesn’t care for trimming himself, but does it anyway. the mask stays on. it only stays on because he doesn’t want you to see that blush on his face, he looks so vulnerable.. has you bent over on his desk to make sure you don’t see him bite his lip, he wants to be so much more vocal with you.. but he’d rather spare himself the embarrassment of letting you see that side of him. he doesn’t wanna give you something to tease him for; he’d rather be the one degrading and teasing you. oh, but trust me, when he’s submissive he can’t do shit. he tries to degrade you but that only leads to you slowing your hand down, moving your face away from his neck to stop kissing him. he chants the words ‘i’m sorry’ like a madman, so you decide to be nice and go a little faster, giving him a quick peck on the lips before he makes a mess of your hand.

pantalone

he’s pretty big as well, and he spoils you. buys you expensive toys just to make you cry. if you help him out in some way, he’ll be sure to reward you. lets you ride him, prefers you be in control. but once you’ve done it enough and he knows what you like, he’ll help you out. who would he be to deny? some sort of monster, that’s for sure. you’re perfect to him, following him around because you don’t know where you’re going. maybe if you tease him a little during a meeting with the other harbingers he’ll get rough with you afterward. that normal smile replaced by a smug look at how easily he can put you in your place.. he’ll never get enough of you.

capitano

he’s giant. like, in height and his cock. you were intimidated the first time you fucked, but with enough lube it ended up working out and you did not regret it. he was rough, your brain was dumbed down to putty, and the only thing running through it was just capitano.. the mask did stay on, yes.. but, he was still hot. maybe the next time you’d make him take it off. and you did. you saw his pretty eyes, his soft looking lips and the whole of his straight, black hair. he was a pretty guy.. he and you were both louder because you could actually see each other. (he could see you but not all that well.)

dainsleif

he’s always so unsure, tense, nervous, stuttering and just hot (temperature wise.) oh, but once you grind against him he immediately cums. he was embarrassed at how he just came in his pants because of you. he tries hiding his face but that didn’t work, you just grabbed his chin and looked him in the eye. his face was red.. he’s just too cute! all flustered, all messy and embarrassed.. all because of you. 6.8 inches, it’s def pink and i give up on hex codes.

[everythingisawayoflife]

one direction has been in the news as of late and on my mind (and on repeat) so i’m taking it upon myself to combine my two interests and describing what kind of directioner each batfam member is. this is for pure shits and giggles and not really based on canon, im going off pure vibes and spite.

dick - dick is NOT ashamed of his love for one direction and works out to them frequently. he’s definitely a harry fan and his favorite era of harry looks is prince hair but also long hair bc mulletwing, duh. his favorite album is midnight memories and favorite song is happily. he def saw them and 5sos in concert and remembers exactly where he was when zayn announced he was leaving the group.

jason - jason only knows so much one direction cause dick blares it in the cave when they’re working out. jason fucks with zayn and louis so hard and believes their 2014 VMAs look is top tier (which, valid). jason let himself listen to Midnight Memories, cause he appreciated the aesthetic of the album, his favorite song is the title track, Midnight Memories. to spite dick, however, he will bump The Wanted, since dick was there to witness the 1D vs. The Wanted beef.

tim - tim wasn’t a directioner but he did stumble on the adventurous adventures of one direction as a kid and may or may not know all the words to that iconic first episode, so he knows a decent chunk of lore. he also scrolls through l*rry forums when he’s bored and enjoys poking holes in their logic (tim has fought babygaters and come out on top). tim does not have a favorite album but he does enjoy their cover of one way or another/teenage kicks that they did for red nose day as well as teenage dirtbag. tim also does not have a favorite member but if he had to pick, gun to his head, he’d probably say louis.

steph - do not cite the deep magic (best song ever music video intro) to stephanie, she was there when it was written. steph is a diehard directioner. she watched the icarly episode where they guest starred when carly gave harry jungle worms. stephanie read the one direction imagines, wrote and read one direction x y/n fanfiction, she breathed these boys and would give a kidney to one of them if asked. steph loves their whole discography but i find her being very partial to their fetus era, so take me home i think is her fave, and her fave song is heart attack, that went platinum in her bedroom. steph swore she was gonna marry zayn with that cinnamon curl in his hair and a little part of her still thinks she will.

damian - this baby tried so hard not to let the 1D bug bite him but made in the AM came on a playlist dick had made for him and he was a goner. damian outwardly craps on them but when he’s alone, he listens to FOUR and MITAM, exclusively. he doesn’t think he could take them seriously as musicians if he listened to anything before then. damian likes liam bc when he tallied it up, liam had written the most of his favorite songs (i actually did this the other day, liam and louis wrote 23 of the songs on my fave 1D songs playlist) and liam is the “leader” of the group. damian really loves “if i could fly” and has even printed sheet music to learn to play it on piano.

duke - for duke, one direction has put out what he likes to call “certified hood classics”. he was familiar with their mainstream pop hits and has maybe even pretended to be a bigger fan to impress girls but he did geniunely become a bigger fan when he moved into the manor. like jason, duke fucks with zayn so hard and midnight memories is the shit for him. he enjoys “don’t forget where you belong” but his favorite mainstream hit is “kiss you”.

cass - stephanie introduced cass to one direction and while cass isn’t as obessesed with them as steph, she really does love FOUR. “once in a lifetime” is so calming for her. she finds a lot of the songs on FOUR are good for working out, dancing, etc. she also loves a lot of zayns solo work. niall is her favorite tho cause of his kind face.

bruce - in an attempt to get closer to his kids, he tried listening to their music and honestly did not see the appeal until like halfway through FOUR. steph once showed him a photo in their fetus eras and asked him hypothetically which one he’d let her and/or cass date if the opportunity ever arose itself. he said they all looked very nice. then she showed him a photo of them during the FOUR era, all tatted up, and asked again. he said either harry or niall. bruce’s favorite song is fool’s gold. steph makes an offhand comment about wanting to do everything in her power to get the band back together and bruce takes her very literally and starts attempting to make phone calls. the whole family puts a (reluctant) stop to it before bruce breaks twitter.

barbara - before she became oracle, babs was on the team of directioners who hacked security cameras to watch them at the airport, it was sort of her first foray into computer skills. she has locked that part of her deep in her soul but without it, she wouldn’t be as proficient as she is now. barbara has loved louis as long as shes been familiar with 1D and loves how sassy he is. her favorite song is “i want to write you a song” and her favorite album is MITAM.

[aztarion]

hiii jez, your sol tag is incredible and i love everything about her!! best aesthetic & best most fucked up vampire bbgirl of all time <3 do you have any interesting facts or random tidbits of lore about her that you are willing to share or link me to? wish to know everything & more about her asap tysm 🥰

whaaaat hi bree!! 😭 that oc tag is so thrown together and unorganised girl youre insane putting yourself through that but omfg its til death do us part now 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

i dont really post writing with my ocs much on tumblr but i blabbered for like an hour here im so sorry in advance i hope its a little entertaining…. tw for ed mention and self harm but its just your regular vtm stuff if youre familiar with the background ttrpg

soledad is her courier alias, she usually goes by that or the inevitable nickname sol, which doubles as a small remnant of her old life — her real name is solona ^^

she is first gen mexican-filipina, grew up in california before moving to arizona

didn’t care for academics much; preferred working with her hands — she dropped out of studies as soon as it was acceptable and went into business training under her dad and older brother as a mechanic

very laidback, easygoing, quietly contented; never had sprawling ambitions or aspirations and she was cool with that (was and is a little bit of a perfectionist with her work tho). this created a wedge with her mom who did nawt like the notion of her only daughter wasting prime years and a pretty face in a dingy garage. (i never get it *exactly* how i want in art & have never found a faceclaim i love, but i kinda picture her overall look as like. a timeless, slightly restless sort of dark beauty; like her eyes are always trying to tell you something in spite of herself, even when she looks totally serene lol)

anyway! one of moms fears are realized — sol ends up with a very noticeable facial scar (semi glasgow smile? mouth to under ear and a little further than that even, cheek just super spliced) due to an accident in the garage. sad! oh well she’s the joker now (or she will be after julian)

wait actually while im yapping about backstory i deviate a little from the game options just to make things more juicy and personal but! to me she first meets julian having to work on his suzuki and they hit it off. pre-night road as mentioned she is very easygoing — easily charmed and is herself charming — they def get along like a house on fire. julian would no doubt mentally take note of her whole roll-with-the-punches, laissez-faire attitude — naturally that just seems like a quality that might come in handy when you bite someone and turn them into a creature of the night. also the attentive, methodical approach she takes to her work, and when needed, her on the spot workarounds — he doesn’t want some dumb unreliable chump childe. and alright bear with him here: so it’s not relevant strictly in terms of her being thee potential great american embrace candidate he may be planning for right now, but man shes kiiiiinda cute and the scar is kiiiiiiiinda badass and its kiiiiinda hot that she knows exactly what she’s doing under the hood.…….Julian’s of course no slouch but he prefers it when others are doing the dirty work for him and she knows her stuff. so he’s thinking yeah this might work out. wait did she just say she plays nintendo too — oh this is definitely working out.

well it didn’t work out — sol ends up caitiff. julian accidentally botched her embrace 👍 whoops. but he teaches her blood sorcery as soon as possible — she can fly under the radar as a regular banu haqim. so it does work out! the sire/childe bond likely did some heavy lifting in terms of their relationship but sol was still pretty dopey heart eyes for julian in the beginning, like truly thought he was brilliant and funny and followed whatever he said no questions — really trusted him, figured with him being more experienced and so whipsmart and knowledgeable that he was utterly infallible. julian knew best and like didn’t he keep her safe trying to cover for the whole clanless thing……how could he have anything but Good Intentions dot dot dot……

in the decade after julian goes MIA, sol’s entire demeanor takes a nosedive. in the ingame text, julian and d’espine are described as being ‘fledgling-like’ in that they still have that liveliness to them, like a constant subtle Blush of Life effect. sol had that too in the years w julian, but after so long alone and having to maintain that isolation in order to ghost by in both the human world and undead while drugrunning & couriering, she gets cold — corpse and mind. outwardly she’s very composed; there’s little to no animation (no once-effortless smile, not even a ghost of the dimple in her unscarred cheek ! ) but her inner monologue is distrustful, has aged — is honestly a little paranoid and bitter sometimes — and overly nervous where she once would never have been. when julian returns it’s noted how young he still seems in comparison. that doesnt help the grudge she holds

i think her nerves skyrocket even more so when she feels aila stir. while u cant choose merits/flaws in night road like the table top, i feel like she would have the bulimic derangement that causes a kindred to gorge or throw up blood at random after feeding due to stress — she’s literally just THAT internally anxious. the game makes a point ensuring youre well fed on your next visit to tucson’s elysium since you showed up starving at the beginning, but after the office confrontation with lettow asking what happened to aila — which despite going successfully & having an excellent relationship with him — sol still probably LEGS it out of the viper once dove interrupts and ends up vomiting in an alley before jumping in her car🤦‍♀️ so much for paying alexander to acquire blood and making a good impression this time…..what a waste. and u know what Riga probably saw the whole mortifying ordeal too smh

ok im sorry i could talk abt the entire game like this i have so many headcanons

ooh straight up just facts & a little tldr:

so she’s 5’8; long pretty neck, slim hourglass figure with soft heavy curves, distinctly confident arms and legs, various tattoos: depictions of scorpions and snakes, the sun, spanish and tagalog script in black and red ink. she’s around whatever Julian’s human age wouldve been, i guess mid twenties range

is Julian’s Childe but due to a botched embrace ends up caitiff. masquerades as a banu haqim that, when in the presence of more prejudiced vampire society, in turn masquerades as something traditionally camarilla-fronting: malk/toreador/ventrue, whatever. it’s complicated! por los clavos de cristo does she wish she was back in that shitty little garage 20 yrs ago

throws up when nervous; is constantly a little hungry and risking an oops moment but for the most part maintains iron composure — its become a whittled and useful hard shell

learns blood sorcery right off the bat from julian, learns protean from lettow after staking reremouse w him. she usually keeps things clean and impersonal with a gun and deft precision (and elena with more guns!) but she still likes working with her hands: in close combat, especially when it involves other supernaturals, she keeps elena out of the fight and doubles up that weird combo of blood sorcery + protean — is frankly just a messy blur of slit wrists bloody sigils and slashing claws. (ough wanna draw this ugly visual so bad but omg i just know it wouldn’t work out w my skillset rn)

omg i feel like ive gone on forever in a bunch of directions while saying nothing helpp. ill stop here and spare you! thank you so much for asking bree!! :D <3 you have to tell me about your courier now!!

^ us night roading

[disenchanteds]

ok heres more

so another alliance is ren and martyn and idk when it atarted i just know they they are like Max Gay Yearning, their ship name is treebark and a whole handful of other ship names and oh the things i could tell you about how much gay yearning they have and the amount of times they mention one another on stream and when one of them pops up on the others stream they immediately turn into gay dramaticised theater kids on the gayest play possible they are horrible and i could write an entire gdocs about all of it but lets not since this is long already

next we have bdubs etho and tango. now bdubs and etho are already close on hermitcraft and so this teamup is more like a "boyfriends and. steve." teamup where they dont even regard tango most of the time and seem to not actually really like him? idk whats going on there

next we have the Feared Duo or gem and joel, both really well known for being extremely good at pvp and Will Kill You If Provoked. they may go on a murder spree or kill themselves or spontaneously combust at any second. we may never know. right now gem is putting up with joel annoying her and trying to keep joel in line and making friends with everyone but that will def change as time goes on.

NOW the spiciest team-up, GGG and Impulse. brief history here : GGG is gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss or cleo, scott and pearl in that order i believe. they were an amazing alliance in last life. cleo and scott turned on pearl in double life and manipulated everyone into hating her. pearl kept her distance during limited life and secret life. they sorta teamed up in real life (the one-off ep april fools, they used vr) but then there was this whole thing that caused cleo to kill pearl so welp. and then now. they are all allied again. bitter, petty, but somehow allied, with biting quips and bantering with one another that can go far considering they are a teamup of british, scottish and australian. so hm. and impulse is just there. between the four of them only impulse hasnt won (scott won last life, pearl won double life, cleo won real life) and for some reason impulse has been antagonising others and scott and cleo keep dismissing pearl's trauma from double life after they left her just because she won. like okay sure. this is a team on the constant verge of breakup but the four of them have always been pretty loyal to their alliances and so what is keeping them together is just Pure Spite and "i am loyal i guess.." oh and also pearl accidentally died from fall damage first because she shrunk and shifted too close to the edge and minecraft didnt register her as an entity and just pushed her off...so

and then there is bigb, who is off doing weird stuff and being alone and generally creepy and ok. heres the thing. so bigb is african american i believe and well. theres a new wood type in minecraft called pale wood that is basically white in color and. for some reason. bigb has. on his own volition. built a giant building shaped like his minecraft avatar face except instead of using like spruce or dark oak wood he used pale wood so hes basically like...white washing himself??? in minecraft??? in a death game??? i mean okay u do u i guess???

and yeah thats that and i havent even touched on ep 2 yet but ep 2 is also. well gempearl divorce arc if i say the least

[rainbowgothdisaster]

Jason's thighs and tits tho 😩

this man has me so fucked up. tw for blood, bruising, guns, crying during sex, face fucking, boobjob, size difference (i wasnt originally gunna put this under the cut but then. youll see. i got carried away. i ramble.)

also this is so incredibly horny i cannot emphasize how unhealthy i am about this man. there's some nice stuff at the end but its still kinda horny just not explicitly fucking

listen. i need to sit at his feet with my head against his legs just licking and nibbling my way up. leave so many hickies and bruises. i do not care who is in control i am taking my time working up. and id work all the up to his face so that the entirety of his legs, belly, titties, and neck are completely discoloured. i would absolutely be wearing lipstick everytime im kissing around him. i NEED to leave as much of a mark as i can. i NEED him begging without me even being half way done.

i am absolutely fucking his titties by the way is that even a question?? can you IMAGINE how good thatd feel???? justing sitting on his belly and pushing them together????? i mean it might not be enough to completely envelope your cock but GOD just the fact ur doing it is enough.

if im topping (bcuz jason todd is a switch and we need more bottom!jason todd x reader content) i am folding that man in half and he will have so many hand shaped bruises on his thighs. i keep my nails really long so hed def be bleeding as well just from digging my nails in holding his knees to his chest. i dont care how itd hurt my back to bend forward and keep pounding him my face is in his titties the whole time. if hes taking it from behind then i am completely wrapped around so i can grope him. or im holding onto his thighs for leverage. either way i am dicking this man down until he is SOBBING. he already cries during sex, you cannot convince me otherwise, and i am absolutely getting as many tears and cum (and blood👀) out of him as possible.

and he would ABSOLUTELY do the same to me. i will call this man anything he wants for him to fucking destroy me. listen. imagine it. hes fucking your face, youre absolutely scratching the hell out of his thighs trying to get your bearings. or even better hes in gear and your hands are legitimately tangled in his thigh holsters. hes an empty gun in his left hand (that btw is covered in your spite) and your hair in his right. when were finally fucking good and proper as the lord intended hes got me on my back to look in my eyes but all i can do is cling to him and alternating between biting him (bcuz i just need something in my mouth and im less likely to take out his jugular than i am to bite off his fingers) and just having my face shoved in his titties. both our backs are scratched up. i can feel his legs trembling inbetween my completely useless ones.

afterwards im laying on top of him, were both covered in cum tears sweat spit and blood and legs too weak for either of us to do anything about it (not that i want to anyway), im just absentmindedly groping him (titties are just stim toys) until we pass the fuck out from *gestures vaguely* ALL OF THAT.

his thighs are absolutely unfair. need a nap? pillows. hes in gear? god his hostlers cling to him in just the right way. hes got shorts on? my eyes are never leaving his thighs. im not even being subtle i am fully staring. no one would blame me. everyones jealous i get to hit that. i would always have a hand on them when were sitting together. not even horny they're just nice and i need to feel them. soft muscle has me fucked up. hed totally flex them just to see my reaction too.

oh his titties are just as bad. sure they're not defines thru his armour but when he has to get dressed up????? jason todd in a button up???? oh my god how has he not lost any buttons yet. suits are absolutely not fair, and sure he may think the same as me all dressed up, but its not the same. bcuz i fucking said so. also taking naps on his titties is even nicer than his thighs, his thighs he could be doing something else but his chest you know his full attention is on you. fully pressed against each other. i am 5'0" and i put him at 6'4" so i come up to his titties. anytime he would corner me against a wall i am at tit height. perfect.

hes the type that once ur comfortable around each other hes never wearing a shirt again (me too babe) and thank whatever god there is for that. hes walking around just in sweats, titties out?

hed def walk around without pants too, just in boxers. you get to enjoy his thighs too? id faint. this man is so perfect. hes the type that if i looked at him too long id start crying. like in complete adoration.

i am pulling this man on the couch or into bed every opportunity i get, i need to be tangled in him. i need our legs tangled together or to be in his lap.

im not a fan of weighted blankets bcuz of how blankets work they make me feel trapped, but id love for a person to lay on top of me. just jasons weight pressed on me, half not bcuz he doesnt wanna crush me. just a reminder hes there as i fall asleep.

[renisfan]

Dimichu: Faerghan boar pokemon

Type: Water/Electric

Ability: Fluffy/Sap sipper/Insomnia(hidden)

Stats: HP 140, Atk 200, Def 100, Sp. Atk 20, Sp. Def 20, Spd 120

Friendly but super strengthful, it often accidentally breaks people's bones when trying to show affection. Some say it's the most dangerous pokemon in Fodlan region.

Learnset:

Leveling

Baby-doll eyes

Noble roar

Strength

Nuzzle

Bulk up

Water sport

Flip turn

Zippy zap

Detect

Mega punch

Thunder punch

Dive

Volt tackle

Splishy Splash

Pika papow

Superpower

Crush grip

Glacial lance

Remembering

Nightmare

Will-o-wisp

Facade

Spite

Curse

Grudge

Retaliate

Final gambit

Bitter blade

TM/Breeding

Growl

Leer

Tackle

Work up

Play nice

Play rough

Charm

Celebrate

Helping hand

Return

Brick break

Rock smash

Dynamic punch

Comet punch

Sky uppercut

Storm throw

Close combat

Giga impact

Spark

Wild charge

Thunderbolt

Thunder

Soak

Aqua jet

Liquidation

Surf

Waterfall

Ice punch

Icicle spears

Hurricane

Take down

Double-edge

Head smash

Headbutt

Bide

Endure

Endeavor

Revenge

Rage

Frustration

Taunt

Roar

Scary face

Bite

Crunch

Night slash

Shadow punch

Hex

Tutoring (Professor Billy)

Teeter dance

Swords dance

Revelation dance

Rain dance

Lunar dance

Hold hands

Tutoring (Headmaster Rhea)

Dragon dance

Rototiller

Trick-or-treat

Mega Dimichu

Water/Electric

Blaiddyd Crest - doubles physical moves' power and PP use.

HP+20 Atk+60 Def+10 Spd+30

Special Z-move

Glacial lance - Paraselene

Ignores protect, sharply raises user's evasiveness

G-max move

Fighting - G-Max Atrocity

2x super effective against all types

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

!! all the main mlm ships follow this weird pattern of over sexualisation and this so called 'woke' fandom does nothing about??

wolfstar : feminine, short, overdramatic, damsel-in-distress, incompetent, sensitive, no-one-wants-you, stupid, sirius black who's entirely dependent on and worships the angry, strong, tall, smart, knight, tragic-hero-martyr-that-everyone-is-wet-for remus lupin.

not only is it so clearly the wattpad fetishization of gay men, it's also so fucking sexist? they'll have 'fuck jkr' in their bios and then make the 'feminine' one in every ship a braindead cockslut? they'll preach how women in hp are only written in categories (mother, insane, gossipy girlfriend, ...) and then ... yeah okay. that. you get it.

there's such a clear power dynamic between them. i saw a vid of one of my favr maurader accs on tiktok (@/againaweasel) saying that the reason for sirius and remus' personalities being exchanged (not multiplied into caricatures, but later on that) may be because remus was very docile about the prank canonically which may encourage sirius into doing worst shit? something like that, i dont remember right, but not only is that a very interesting dynamic to explore (common mauraders fandom L) it's just... eek? i mean, if it was on a digestible level, i guess i get it - but this weird characterization of them? you could change their names and not one person from the books would recognize the pair. so much to say about them, but whatever.

i fucking hate fanon wolfstar.

jegulus : stupid, himbo, james and genius, non chalant, leave-me-alone regulus? i wont mention how much i despise this ship outside of how it just once again has this weird power dynamic thing, only now it's all emotional because james is regulus' bitch ?? like when did that happen.

also the trans reg hc?? i feel like they def started to spite jkr and nothing more - because when i go to the tag it's usually ALL jegulus. and even then, it's so much just boypussy content.

rosekiller : literally smut. i go there, it's either sex or biting or kinks or SOMETHING. like i get it its hot theyre insane but holy. fucking. shit. give them characterizations. characterizations that go beyond stealing canon sirius and splitting them between the pair. (this happens a lot in slytherins - i'll prbly rant about it someday,).

maybe i havent read enough rosekiller, but god if they are not sexualized to bits.

this fandom is run by booktok daughters, boyfriends webtoons enjoyers & mlm fetishizers i fear. i get off tumblr and go to tiktok and cry because i am assaulted with alpha remus, cumdump sirius, dumb james, child genius regulus, rosekiller porn, sidelined dimensional female characters and misunderstood black brothers 'lore'

i genuinely think that the shift from the old marauders to the new one where every straight ship even the canon and most important one (i.e jily) and that whole jegulus/all the other made up ships that make no sense come from a place of fetish. yall LOVE to turn characters into little stereotypes and that whole constant obsession w homosexuality is not helping any cause. most of view view homosexual/queer relationships as more angsty or interesting in a way that’s so strange to me. ships could follow the most standard plot line but still be considered angsty cus they’re queer and why is that? this fandom has taken such a strange turn.

you are making sexuality such a strong and central point in a character importance more than any other trait of their character. and those head canons just end up erasing the most important things about these characters

james potter was a strong and good man. he developed from his arrogant teenage self into a good man fighting for a good cause. but now you made him into a twink that is in love with a death eater/ a member of the family that abused his best friend all his life. james and sirius’s relationship was a central point of their characters. and james’s love for lily is a central point as well??????

sirius being turned into a overly feminine gay drama queen, even though what WAS important about him was his loyalty his strength and his honor??? but all of that was forgotten. HE CAN BE GAY WITHOUT ERASING HIS ORIGINAL PERSONALITY. stop painting him into a stereotype of a gay man.

regulus black is getting the recognition that is to be given to sirius. his character was not some brave rebel vigilante that fought for justice. he was a pureblood supremacist.he was a deatheater. yes he is important to the story but he was not what you made him.

lily evans is the most important character of the series. she’s the reason it exists. her and james’s love is the center point. but it was pushed away by you people to focus on your strange fetishized view of gay men. this MAJOR character whose love for her son and husband literally MADE the story got cast away as a secondary character.

important topics like sirius’sabusive family, lily and james’s courage and love….was remplaced by ridiculized view of characters

make characters gay cus we don’t know anything about them yes okay that’s why wolf star was a major part of the fandom. but the complete shift of every single characters identity is just bullshit.

[ectoplasmjelly]

Gachi Oc

Rynet my baby

I don't have a last name for her yet

Have some random hcs while I act like I didn't drop of the face of the earth for a month

Rynet literally cannot be left unattended in thrift stores or flea markets. Zanka and Rynet have a side arc where an event comes around town that's basically a huge annual flea market and is amazing for Rynet because she can find all sorts of fabric and materials for cheap. She gets carried away and easily excited about it though and might get scammed or kidnapped since she's so distracted, so she has to be supervised during the event, lol. She takes Zanka because he's rich and also will bail her out if she gets into deep shit

Rynet takes pretty good care of her hair and likes experimenting with styles, but doesn't let Riyou mess with it just to spite her

Rynet gives Ghibli style hugs. Just straight up tackles people.

Her tongue is forked for backstory reasons but half of the Cleaners don't actually know that

Rynet is particular about sweets but would murder for anything strawberry flavored. Enjoys cold desserts but doesn't like biting into them because her teef are sensitive

She bites as a form of affection. It's light and barely leaves an imprint, she just does it as a nonverbal 'ily :>'

Rynet enjoys sharing food with someone but also dislikes eating in front of people

When Zanka gets badly hurt, Rynet blames herself for not being there for him when he was there for her (At the time of the mission she was still recovering from her main story arc- she had lots and lots of broken bones and torn tissue. She also kept ripping her stitches by moving when she wasn't supposed to and not giving herself proper rest. Girly cannot sit still, she was itchin' to get back to it) and so she doesn't visit him at first out of guilt. She ends up missing him too bad and feeling so bad about it that she visits him at night (past visiting hours so she technically breaks in) and she apologizes for not being there (while he's asleep, she can't face him while he's awake). She also had overheard Rudo talking about the artificial flowers, and she ended up making fabric flowers for him out of scrap fabric. She talks a bit about how rare it is for her to open up and how she feels like she needs to get stronger so she can be the one to bail him out. She reaches for his hand but decides against it since she doesn't wanna touch him while he's asleep and heads for the window to leave. Her one leg is over the sill when she hears something.

"Where are you goin'?"

Rynet falls out the fucking window.

She's okay!! She caught herself with one of her needles from her jinki and Zanka helped pull her back up.

"You rich prick!! You didn't say anything- how long were you awake for?!" She practically hisses at him, hitting his shoulder as she gets him back to his bed.

"Calm down, quiet, I heard ya-" He gets back in bed and Rynet sits next to him, leaning her head against the wall as she plays with his hand. She's evidently still annoyed with him but willing to let it go.

Zanka talks a bit about how she doesn't to worry about him and Rynet in a moment of honesty tells him that if he's gonna pull risky shit that she's going to have to worry. She clears her throat and adds on that she'll get tired of mending his clothes if he keeps fucking them up.

Zanka goes quiet. He notices the small delicate bones of her hand and the little ring of thread around her middle finger. He absentmindedly slides it off and tries to fit it on his own finger, but he only gets it down to the second knuckle. Rynet snorts and takes the ring back, putting it back on. She playfully blows the hair out of his face to see his nose scrunch. He scowls at her and she sticks her forked tongue out at him.

After a while, both of them have nodded off, with Rynet going first. She had been working overtime even more than usual since she was backed up after being on bedrest. Zanka followed shortly after.

(If phones or cameras exist, Enjin def took a picture.)

Any, that's off of the top of my dome

I realized that I can just ramble about whatever I want and no one can stop me so expect more of these :>

[fbfh]

you're mine (and I'm yours) - scott mccall x witch!mate!reader hcs

wc: 4k

genre: soulmate au sort of, lowkey a sabrina the teenage witch au (hilda and zelda are your aunts) bc I'm in my 90s witchy whimsigothic era,

summary: trying to balance your newly realized powers as a young witch with a social life and starting at a new school is a lot to handle, and you're thrown for a huge curveball when the hot werewolf on the lacrosse team forms a mate bond with you, dragging both of you into each others secret worlds

warnings: not proof read, some predator/prey dynamics bc scott is a literal werewolf, scott realizes he's being kind of creepy towards you but you can tell he's not human so you get it yk, you pass out bc you're a tad overwhelmed, scott is very posessive, scott is very clingy, scott is so fucking down bad for you, implied size difference (specifically he has bigass hands), astral projection/eavesdropping through dreams, awkward mate talk with Derek and Scott, mention of future conversations about ruts but otherwise sfw, your Aunt Hilda and Salem both make dog jokes at Scott but he takes them in stride, I think that's it??

song rec: we belong together - ritchie valens, wereowl - sj tucker, wolf bite - owl city, head over feet - alanis morissette, also here's an outfit but it's totally optional lmao

a/n: had this in the works for a while!! It spiraled out of control lol,, I was debating using this as an outline but it's already pretty long and I'm coming out of a slump so I'll take what I can get lol but if yall like this def expect more of scott x whimsigothic witch reader bc I have SO many ideas lol ALSO for your consideration chris flemming's take on witch summer, and scott introduces himself to you like skunk from a diy basement show ((also tagging people on the movie/tv show au tag list and the omegaverse tag list bc of the genre so if you don't know why you're getting tagged in a teen wolf fic that's why lol))

@yesv01 @almostjollypizza @fictionalcomforts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @urmum-xoxo @raajali3 @paige-creates @lubsana @demirunner @almostjollypizza  @mystic-writings  @babiesimagines  @lizziebitch33 @jacksondeeznuts @hopefullhearts @justbookworm @Asunnyhunny @cowboylikekelsey

You and your family have always been somewhat quiet, kept to yourselves

In spite of some family members more… flashy joie de vivre

And in spite of the fact that you’re all at least a little eccentric 

You really do try to keep to yourselves

You just want a chill, peaceful existence 

You’re not looking for trouble 

Do no harm take no shit kind of energy

A lot of this is due to the fact that almost everyone in your family are witches 

You have a cousin who’s a sorcerer that lives out in tallahassee 

But besides that

You’re pretty much all witches

Your mom and dad live in michigan, often visiting family in the hudson valley or up in northern new england 

Quiet places where no one will look too closely at private lowkey eccentric people 

Once your magic and clairvoyant powers started to develop on your 16th birthday, you move in with your two aunts in northern california

A small town called beacon hills

Everyone knew figuring out a balance between learning about your powers and heritage and maintaining a normal social life was going to be hard

Your aunts arranged a split schedule for you

You’d homeschool half the week to give you more time and freedom to learn your craft

And go to the public high school half the week 

Hybrid schooling isn’t exactly conventional, but nothing about your family really is

The school board apparently weren’t very pro on this but your aunts managed to convince them

So for the first half of the week, everything goes fine

You’re doing your homework as fast as you can and learning so much about your powers

You’ve been studying auras and energy reading

Once you get the hang of it, you find it’s hard to shut it off

The second half of the week surprisingly also goes okay

At first

Your first day at beacon hills high, you get a tour from a guy named Stiles who is either taking way too much or not enough adderall 

He seems a little sidetracked and you get the impression he has a lot going on outside of school

You’re also approached by a girl named Allison and her friend Lydia

Allison tells you that she’s somewhat new to beacon hills too, and you form a sort of bond over that

You wonder if she’s a fire sign, you immediately pick up on a strong warrior/fighter type of energy from her 

Lydia is really nice too, and you can tell she’s a lot smarter than she lets on

You pick up an unusual energy from Lydia, something tugging at your gut and poking the corners of your mind, but it doesn't feel threatening so you brush it off

You sense Stiles nearby and turn your head, seeing him talk with a lanky blonde dude

Your stomach drops 

There is something very weird about this guy 

You can feel a really distinct energy but you can't put it into words 

You squint, wondering what his name is

You're getting a lot of vowels, something sort of old, biblical??

Eventually your attention is pulled back to Allison 

"Were you staring at Isaac?"

Isaac

That makes sense

"Uh, yeah no, I just spaced out for a second…"

You get that bubbling feeling that something is coming really quickly

"Come on, we should get to class." You drag them away, walking in front of them

You're right once again, as Scott McCall rounds the corner looking for Stiles and Isaac

"Hey we need to-"

He cuts himself off, distracted by the scent he picked up

It's different from any other scent he's ever encountered 

It's sweet and electric, like the first sip of your favorite soda 

"Scott?" Stiles asks 

He picks it up again, this time on Stiles 

He leans closer, sniffing him like a bloodhound 

He shoves his nose in Stiles neck, then makes his way down his torso and over to his wrist as Stiles protests

Stiles’s scent immediately overwhelms the new one and Scott recoils

"Dude, don't do that in public!" He hisses, catching the strange looks from the students passing by them

"Or in private- or ever!" He corrects 

He looks back at Scott, whose pupils are super dilated 

"What… what was that?" Scott wonders regarding the intoxicating scent 

"Yeah, I was going to ask you the same thing," Stiles grumbles, thrown off by the odd (and almost intimate) gesture 

For the rest of the day, whenever he starts to clear his head, he'll catch that scent again, completely pulling his focus away

Meanwhile, you've found at least 3 people with that same weird energy as Isaac

It doesn't feel bad, not right away at least 

But it's really really strong 

It’s strange and overwhelming

Between how exhausted you are from all your magic lessons and how hard it was to keep your powers under control at school

AND the fact that you spent basically all day half blinded by people’s auras and energy 

You’re totally exhausted

And you don't have time to unpack that today

So naturally as soon as you start to sense that weird energy

Especially that one particularly strong source of it

You pivot and head the other way

You're sure Lydia and Allison must think you're crazy by now but they don't seem to be too phased

Much like with Stiles, you get the sense they’ve seen a lot of weirder shit

And your instincts are never wrong

You know, the whole psychic clairvoyant witch thing

So by the end of the day, you’ve avoided it thus far, and you start to head with Allison and Lydia to the parking lot

You stop suddenly,remembering you forgot your wand in your locker

There’s no way you can leave that at school, so you run back inside, telling them you’ll be right back

Meanwhile, Scott has spent all day chasing down every hint of that scent he possibly can

He’s about to give up when he smells it at the end of the hallway, just around the corner

He was on his way to lacrosse practice

But honestly he couldn’t care less about that right now

He starts running, desperate not to lose the scent again, or lose control

You tuck your wand somewhere safe, then you feel it seconds before it happens

The hair on the back of your neck stands up

Your stomach drops and you get that feeling that something is about to happen

And you feel the strong as fuck super intense energy barreling towards you 

A strong chill runs down your body

You turn around right as Scott pins you to your locker, eyes glowing red and as big as the moon, pulse racing

He’s breathing hard, fanning warm over your face

And god, the world shifts and everything makes sense

A shiver runs down his spine, and yours in tandem, and he has to physically hold himself back from kissing you everywhere, from pressing his face into your skin to breathe in your intoxicating scent

The logical part of his brain, the human part is screaming at him not to scare you, stop being weird, at least introduce himself and ask for your name

But the primal part, the wolf part, is too loud

He didn’t know he could feel so protective, so possessive over someone without knowing them

His wolf brain insists he does know you, you’re each other’s…

Each other’s…

That’s it

You’re each other’s

You’re his and he’s yours

God, he’s yours

And he is drawn to you

It’s like you shoved a bear trap in his chest and are pulling him closer and closer by the chain

And he’d let you

He wants you to

Fuck he wants to kiss you

At the same time, you’re trying not to fall over from the sudden force of emotions this guy is feeling for you

You can physically feel how badly he wants you

How much he desires you

Like you’re the only thing that matters

And fuck that weird energy is radiating off of him so close to you

It’s definitely not bad or malicious

You can tell that much

But it’s really really fucking powerful and needs to be treated carefully

The combination of all these things is making you kind of dizzy

And when you look at him

Really snap out of your thoughts and look at the guy pinning you against the wall

Fuck

He’s hot

He’s really hot

His breath over your face in little puffs is hot

It’s all too much

You feel yourself start to fall

You pitch sideways into his arms, blacking out before you can say something or sit down

Scott catches you as you begin to slump against him

Everywhere you touch, he lights on fire

He holds you gently, nuzzling his face against you, finally allowing himself to bask in your addictive, intoxicating scent

You don’t respond to his touch, and he can sense your pulse slowing down

“Fuck!” he growls, snapping out of it and realizing you passed out

He sniffs you closer 

You smell okay, so it's probably nothing serious 

But he has to get you somewhere safe

“Scott?”

Stiles’s voice echoes down the hall

“Scott!” he sees Scott clinging to your unconscious body, eyes glowing and teeth bared

A low growl emanates from his throat as a warning and Stiles freezes in his tracks

He doesn’t think Scott has ever growled at him like that

He barks at Stiles to stay away from you on instinct

A moment passes and you still haven’t woken up yet

He starts to worry

“We need to get to a doctor,” he mutters, suddenly charging past Stiles, with you still in his grip

Stiles chases after him, making a mental note to talk to him about how fucking weird he’s being right now

One very tense jeep ride to Deaton’s later, you’re laying on a table slightly too small for you as Scott rambles, explaining how you passed out

Deaton’s not exactly sure why he’s examining a human and not an animal or supernatural creature, but Scott is way too worked up for him to be hung up on details

Derek had somehow gotten wind of what happened, and is waiting for Deaton to confirm you’re okay so he can give Scott the lecture of a fucking life time

He got a panicked call from Scott’s stupid friend, and now he has to clean up another one of their messes

He’s so ready to yell at Scott, but the second he walks into the building, he smells it

His stomach drops

He runs into the back, throwing open the door, and is overwhelmed by the smell of the mate bond freshly formed between Scott, and you, who’s still lying unconscious

He tries to drag Scott out of the room to talk, but Scott refuses to leave your side, growling and snapping at him

“Okay,” Derek says, “I really didn’t think I was going to have to give you the talk so soon, but…” 

Stiles and Scott protest, while Deaton looks even more uncomfortable than he already had

“Not that talk!” Derek snaps, “...The mate talk.” 

“The mate talk?” Scott asks, “Like…” his words hang unspoken in the air

Derek nods

“Yeah.” 

Using every ounce of willpower in him, Scott manages to tear himself away from your side to step out of the room and talk to Derek, but he insists on standing right outside the door so he can watch you through the window, Stiles following behind him

He’s barely able to pay attention to what Derek is saying

He’s so preoccupied with you

You look so vulnerable on that examination table

It’s not like he thinks Deaton wouldn’t take great care of you or anything, he just wishes he was there to make sure first hand that you’re okay

He doesn’t like that he’s not next to you right now

It brings on a heartache, a devotion he hasn’t ever felt before

“For fucks sake, Scott, pay attention!” Derek snaps, realizing he’s been spacing out

“I’m listening!” Scott counters, and tries to focus on what Derek is telling him

He’s glad Stiles is there to retain the information he’s missing 

It’s like his brain is a sponge that’s been soaking in a bucket full of you, it can’t hold on to anything else

He just wants you to be okay

In the depths of your sleep, you make a mental note to thank your aunts for giving you that book on astral projection (among many other witchy texts and spellbooks) for your birthday 

You flex your hands, feeling them tingling warm with magic, then wiggle your feet, tingling the same way

You continue to gently separate your astral form from your corporeal form, and the dream you had been  having shifts

You’re in what looks like the back office of a vet’s office, a guy in a lab coat stands near you looking concerned

Gently, slowly, you get up and creep towards the door

You watch a rugged looking man with dark hair, and that same energy, explain something seemingly important 

“For fucks sake Scott, pay attention!” 

You look over at Scott, who’s looking back at where you’re presumably still asleep in the back room, and the guy keeps explaining what’s going on

Mates are a rare connection, usually made by alphas, and it’s even more rare for an alpha to have a mate that’s not a werewolf, he tells Scott and Stiles

You look up at Scott

He’s a werewolf

And an alpha

That makes sense, you think, it confirms the feeling you’d had before but couldn’t put into words

With a fresh mate bond (which is what you have) being separated can be painful, and even fatal, so until this calms down you’re basically going to be joined at the hip

You’ll form a deep connection, possibly even some sort of telepathic bond, but most likely you’ll just need to spend enough time together, make sure you’re both doing okay

He’ll probably feel possessive and territorial over you, that’s normal, but it’s also important to keep those feelings in check

Scenting can help with that too

“There’s also the issue of, uh,” Derek looks around awkwardly

He knew he would need to explain ruts at some point, and now that Scott found his mate, he needs to tell him before he gets his first rut

But he feels like now is really not the time or place

“What?” Scott asks with a blank stare

He really has no idea what he’s getting into

“Come by my place this weekend, I’ll tell you then.” 

“Okay,” he says, clearly antsy, glancing back at you, “if that’s everything can I-”

“Fine,” Derek sighs, warning him not to scare you, “and don’t come on too strong!” 

Scott opens the door, rushing into the room

In an instant, you feel yourself getting pulled back to your body as the scene goes dark

You open your eyes, lying on the table, Scott right next to you

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, breathing an obvious sigh of relief 

“I’m… Scott, by the way,” he beams down at you, utter adoration obvious on his face 

“I know,” you smile, turning to the others, “Can we have the room?” 

It’s more of a statement than a question, and Stiles, Derek, and Deaton awkwardly shuffle out

You’re sure Derek will be able to hear everything you’re saying with the whole werewolf hearing thing, so you choose your words carefully, wanting to keep at least some cards close to your chest

You know there’s not much you’ll be able to hide from him, what with you being mates and all, but you’d like to be a little strategic about how you break some of this to him

He’s still gazing at you, beyond enamored, and it’s like his whole world has shifted

His center of gravity no longer rests an inch below his navel, now it’s wherever you are, and he feels himself swirling and orbiting around you 

You’re the center of his universe

You take his much larger hand in yours and his chest squeezes as the breath is pulled from his lungs

He smiles again, he’s been doing that a lot more around you 

“I know you’re a werewolf,” you start slowly

His stomach drops

“But it’s okay, I’m not freaked out or anything. I actually have something kind of weird to tell you too, but,” your eyes flick over to the door, “I don’t think this is really the ideal time or place.”

“Okay,” he breathes, waiting for you to continue so he can hear more of your voice, sweeter than honey and as soothing as a cozy blanket

“I know we can’t really be far apart because of the whole…” you motion between you two, “mate thing, so if you want we can go back to my place and catch each other up a little?” 

He stares at you as you talk, focus split between your words and how wonderful it is to be around you, and a moment after you’re done he agrees

“Yeah, there’s probably a lot to talk about,” he says with a chuckle

On your way out to the car, you send an incoming spell to your aunts with a quick flick of your wand

It’s a simple spell that tells the recipient something’s coming, mixed with a little bit of the sender’s intention and sometimes a short message, so they can tell if it’s anything dangerous or not

The message you mutter under your breath is “big news, we’ll be home soon, get ready” 

You tuck your wand back into your boot as Scott opens the door of Stiles’ jeep for you, helping you in and buckling your seatbelt for you

Your heart flutters a little at the gesture

Stiles gives you both a ride since he had been your ride over, now under significantly less stress than he had been during your previous drive to Deaton’s clinic

Scott is glued to your side the whole time, radiating heat against you

You’re both sitting in the back, and Stiles grumbles something light hearted about Scott already ditching him for you

A while later, Stiles drops both of you off at your house

It looks slightly out of place in beacon hills, with its looming victorian frame and tall turret protruding into the otherwise clear sky

Various lawn decorations and ornaments made of heavy metals and deep jewel tones (all enchanted and serving a purpose) decorate the yard, kept company by the occasional gnome 

The inside, as Scott will soon find out, is decorated in a similar fashion

Deep, rich jewel tones with eclectic prints and patterns, heavy velvet drapes, and a lot of celestial imagery and detailing cover every room, with books and nicknacks tucked away anywhere there’s space for them

You can sense your aunts freaking out a little, catching a spell book flying across the room through the window

They’re not sure what kind of trouble you got in so soon, but they’re ready to do whatever needs to be done to help you out

You open the door, and everything stops in its tracks

Most of it was out of sight, but you see a few things that had been floating about drop to the floor or skitter to their place on a table in a way that your aunts hope is inconspicuous 

They pause in their tracks about to greet you, when they see Scott

Both of your aunts, and the black cat sitting on the couch in front of a soap opera playing quietly on tv all stare at him curiously

After a moment, aunt Zelda’s eyes go wide in understanding, and she nudges Hilda, who catches on as well as you greet each other

Aunt Zelda addresses you, happy that your home, “and who is this?” she asks, motioning towards Scott

You smile

“Aunt Hilda, Aunt Zelda, this is Scott. He’s my boyfriend,” you say

Scott almost feels dizzy

He really likes being called your boyfriend, much more than he thought he could

He wishes he could hear you say it again

“He’s a werewolf.” you state simply

Scott’s eyes flare, and he looks down at you, what the fuck, dude?? Written all over his face

“Oh,” your Aunt Zelda says, trying to sound surprised

“Is he?” Hilda says rhetorically 

“So, he’s already familiar with all kinds of magic and supernatural stuff. It’s nothing new.”

They let out a sigh of relief, and all the magic that had been ground to a halt flies back to life

A pot in the kitchen starts stirring itself, the items that had been flying around make their way back to their places on shelves and drawers, a broom in the hallway begins to sweep up by itself 

Scott is sure the shock is evident on his face and you giggle, sounding like music from the heavens 

“Scott, these are my aunts, Hilda and Zelda. They’re witches.”  

“Oh,” he says, nodding

That makes more sense

“And I am also a witch. So,” you turn between Scott and your aunts, taking out your wand and flicking it with a swish. The book on the table in front of them flips a few pages, and the letters rearrange themselves with a glimmer into the word mates. Their eyes widen in understanding. “Now that all the cards are on the table, Scott and I have some homework to do, so we’re going to catch up a little and take care of that.” 

“Sure,” Zelda says with a smile, “let us know if you need anything, Scott.” 

“Peanut butter is in the pantry, and I think we have some bone broth in the freezer if you want to-” Hilda says, starting to make a gnawing motion before Zelda smacks her arm

You’d expect nothing less, and you’re relieved as Scott chuckles at the dog jokes

You start to bring him through the living room past the couch to go up to your room and talk a little

You’re a witch

You have a wand and (presumably) spell books and can do literal magic 

Okay, he can totally handle that 

He’s dealt with weirder stuff 

Honestly, he can feel deep in his bones that nothing can pull him away from you

This is nothing more than a slight curve ball

And he actually thinks it’s really fucking cool

He’s processing what he’s seen since entering your house, and it makes sense, he thinks

He’s sure he can handle this, he doubts after all that there’s anything else in the world that could shock him

You pass by the couch, and he hears a deeper voice let out a petulant whine

He turns his head, seeing the black cat who’s been sitting on your couch the whole time

“Is he going to make the whole house smell like wet dog?” 

The cat just spoke

“Gag me.” he groans with a roll of his eyes

“Salem!” you exclaim, dragging Scott away

Okay, maybe that will take some getting used to 

“Sorry about him,” you say as trails after you up the stairs. Your voice is low and intimate, and he feels that deep connection to you again

Everything in him pulls him towards you, towards you warm embrace

Then you gently hold his arm to guide him into your room, flashing a sweet smile his way that makes his chest squeeze and his stomach flip

He’s sure he can handle anything as long as he has you

[namodareads]

ok when i say i BURST into tears after reading the last line that is not an exaggeration 😭😭😭 tears started PISSING from my eyeballs the minute i finished reading this and by the gods i have SO many feelings and thoughts that i dont know if i'll be able to organize them all.

first, i want to say that this fic has such a good atmosphere: the post-war setting and putting these kids all back to class and studying is bound to have complications, and i think it was explored with such care and attention throughout the fic. the student's hesitance to talk of the war, their trauma and hurt that lingers, it all felt so real, even with the lighter moments.

it's easy to tell reading this that you're fond of all the characters here (esp aizawa, but that's a given hehe /pos). like. the whole time i was reading i was holding back tears because the tone of this fic was extremely visceral. i cried during the part w bakugou bc like. /gestures/ so much has happened around him even from the very beginning of the series.

i loved the way the students interacted w reader. reader felt like a solid character w backstory and their presence had weight and impact on the canon faces and that is always so wonderful to see in a fic. ofc i loved the teacher's interactions w reader too, esp that line abt yagi gossiping LMAOOOOO. and reader looking out for kaminari was just so sweet too 🥺🥺🥺.

Had you been any younger your eyes might’ve stung at the clear wonder unfolding on his face; surprised and happy to be accommodated without interrogation

^ like ... !!!! c'mon !!!! idk as someone who also struggled w certain aspects of school this was just so healing to read from reader's perspective. reader is defs a teacher i would've loved to have. and their concern for monoma and noticing subtle changes in their students 🥺 i'm so emotional over this aaaaaaaaahhhhh /pos

“Shouta,” he says. You blink, narrowly caught in a stupor. The erasure hero sinks to burrow deeper into his capture weapon. Warmth rises to the tips of his ears in spite of his efforts. “Just call me Shouta”. 

^ AAAGHHHHH EATS HIM EATS HIM EATS HIM EATS HIM EATS HIM EATS HIM EATS HIM EATS HIM GAAAAAHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!! GNAWING ON HIM !!!!!! his name !!! his name !!!! <- incoherent blubbering

and their whole vibe w aizawa is simply unmatched, it gave me the impression of such a quiet, gentle pining that rly made me teary eyed 😭😭😭💖💕 and their interactions were so well written and thoughtful and they felt real !!! like, i fell in love w reader and aizawa's relationship early on in the fic, and it was so rewarding emotionally to read their progression 🥺 the way aizawa cares for reader and clearly expresses it (jellies--we already know food is 1 of my most beloved love languages hehe) and then participating in their class and asking them to watch over his beloved students w him !!!!! arrrhghhhh crying !!!!!! /pos!!

idk i also loved the way u described reader's crush on aizawa, i felt it so viscerally--and part of the reason is bc i very much relate to the ways they would try to tell themselves it's just a silly crush but then would get starry-eyed and flustered anyways

Your teeth sink into your cheek, biting down a grin where he cannot see it. “Yeah, okay,” you laugh under your breath. Louder then, “But I’m going to take your favourite flavour”.  “Don’t push your luck,” he dared. 

^ IM GOING TO PISS TEARS !!!!!!!!!!!!! (also side note "favourite flavour" made my brain go "monty is so british" /pos LMAO idk it tickled me . smooches u) their lil banter!!! GOD !!!!!! AAAAAA im running in circles,, EYE want to banter with my coworker crush :( man,,,

On the next mouthful of your rice you subtly uncurl your middle finger from beneath your chopsticks and pointedly flip it at Aizawa. He snorts, amused.

^ biting them biting them biting them biting them biting them i love them so much i cannot express my giddiness for the way they banter LOL

i think when writing fics that involve a lot of characters, it's easy for the background characters (meaning the characters that arent the titular love interest) to fade and kind of become obsolete? it's tough to strike a balance and i think u did that so so well here--going back to what i mentioned abt reader feeling like a character whos presence matters to canon.

this fic makes me want to watch bnha again--as i was reading in the corner of my brain i was like "man i gotta get back into bnha" LMAOOOOO 😭💖

GOD AND THE EMAILS!!!!!!!! I LOVE LOVE LOVED THE EMAILS SO MUCH . shinsou's email made me laugh aloud, and so did midoriya's LMAOOOOO !!! the added personality to them really sell the vibes and i thought they were such a perfect addition to the fic--a way for the audience to see behind the scenes!!

AND OH JESUS CHRIST ERI !!!!! ERI WAS SO CUTE AAHJHGJDFKHJDHKDJ !!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA i never actually met her in canon LMAOOOO but the screencaps ive seen of her smiling always make me so teary-eyed, and the way she grew so attached to reader warmed me so desperately 😭 !!! like, i just wanted to hold her hands and let her put all sorts of hair clips on me :((( GAH /pos!!!!!! aizawa and eri were so cute and their relationship is such a treat in this fic 🥺🥺🥺

class A and B meddling w reader and aizawa's relationship was SO funny to me. but also a lil somber bc,,, idk !! u can tell its smth theyre really excited over, and its like, a nice break for them, in a way? it's smth they get to have fun with beyond the reaches of trauma from the war, they get to do a lil light-hearted good-natured scheming abt their beloved teachers, and that is so important to me 🥺🥺🥺 but yes it was so funny to me, and that moment where aizawa walked into reader's class and they blue-screened made me laugh aloud but also think "i would defs do the same"

reader's own sleeplessness and trauma was also handled very well!! bc like, no matter what someone's involvement level is, war is war, and even if reader is more a scholar than a fighter, the effects of war is bound to wear them down, esp when they're worried abt the well-being of their students 🥺

ok so i forget where i mentioned bkg before BUT I HAVE MORE TO SAY !!! that sequence made me sooo teary-eyed and i think its wonderful and refreshing to have a reader that doesn't try to solve all the character's problems. like, it makes the reader more human imo!! esp w a reader who's in an educator, it's like. they're supporting the canon characters but not overbearing on them or trying to magically talk-no-jutsu canon problems away !! and i think the way bkg and reader's interaction went shows how much he trusts them!! also indicates his growth as a character, but also that he relies on reader and is amenable to them coming to comfort him 🥺🥺 and reader teaching bkg to clamp his hand w the claw clip--ohhhhhh yeahhhhh that's the good shit 😌😌😌

and hohohohohoho reader and aizawa's kiss,,, YEEEAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! YEEEAAHHHHHHHHHH YEEEEAAHHHH!!! WOOOOOOOOOO !!!!! i think it was such a sweet way to end 🥺🥺 poor yagi LMAOOOOOO DJKHFJDHS but i was cheering like YEEESSSS GET THAT DICK !!!!!!! and nezu's email at the end. LMAOOOO

He kisses you deeply and it feels four weeks too late. It feels like muscle memory. It feels like something you’ve done a thousand times over.

^ im emo im emo im emo !!!! GOD!! the like, the way it feels so natural to kiss him WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH TEARS IN MY EYES 😭😭😭 THIS MOMENT IS EVERYTHING TO ME !!!!

this whole fic was such a treat to read i'm so happy i finally got a chance to sit down and eat it. it is exactly how i imagine life post-war would be in a world filled w quirk ppl, and the romance is just the sweetest cherry on top 🥺🥺🥺 smooches u monty this work is exceptional !!!!!! made me cry and i dont regret a single tear i shed over it 🥹🥹🥹

THE KIDS ARE GONNA BE ALRIGHT ┊ AIZAWA SHOUTA

synopsis: teachers are like bridges, there to facilitate students on their ungainly journey through life. add a war, a new subject, a gaggle of traumatised children and a handsome coworker with an apparent sleeping disorder — see where the bridge leads.

tags: GN reader (called 'Sensei'), coworkers to lovers, reader is a UA teacher (quirk science), single parent aizawa (adopted eri), some workplace shenanigans, meddling kids (class 2A + B), mutual pining, fluff + angst, learning difficulties, mental health (alluded PTSD), getting together, post war arc (heavily implied spoilers ahead), first kisses + making out, suggestive content + heavy themes, HAPPY + HOPEFUL END

wc: 19K

From: Principal.Nedzu@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: Welcome to UA! Message:  Good morning!  It is my pleasure to welcome you to UA — we are very excited to have you aboard! The files attached to this email are as follows:  

A map of the campus

The UA handbook and Emergency guideline

The Teachers Code of Conduct 

Please refer back to these regularly to familiarise yourself with everything. As we discussed in our prior phone call a place has been prepared in the teachers dormitory in preparation for your move. Your key and security badge are at the reception desk. Please bring identification to collect them. Do let me know if you require a reserved spot in the parking area. 

One last thing to note: 

The staff lounge and kitchen is located in the west wing of the first floor heroics building. It is regularly restocked with snacks and beverages. The coffee machine is also available to you at any time. Feel free to help yourself!

If you have any further questions you can email me or call me. I will get back to you as soon as possible. 

Kind regards,

Nedzu Principal of UA High School  〒123-4567 Ōikuyō, Shizuoka, Musutafu.  Go Beyond, Plus Ultra!

Your new world is bordered by a large imposing wall. 

It towers above your head, reinforced concrete and steel reaching for the heavens, housing weapons you could only imagine. Gone is the classic archway that once welcomed students with open arms. The public walkway leading uphill to the school is cordoned off. 

Even alongside global assistance progress was slow. A large chunk of Musutafu had remained levelled— debris and dust, unrecognisable. After the battle ended, rebuilding the country came first. Hospitals and emergency services were given priority; more shelters followed close behind, and once given the go ahead, individuals confined to UA were able to slowly integrate back into their own communities. 

One step at a time. Life stops for nothing, that is clearer than ever. 

You qualified as a quirk specialist, mainly working with college students, teaching science, history and philosophy of quirks. Principal Nedzu was an old acquaintance. You crossed paths at a conference or two, and you saw his name in citations of papers you read from time to time, but it never grew beyond professional respect. Thus, having him reach out to you through your private number had come as a big surprise. 

After the war a number of the current student’s quirks had evolved at an unprecedented rate, largely due to the trauma and strain they endured. He expressed his wish to include quirk study in the new curriculum and reasoned that having someone with your credentials on staff would not only ease the anxiety of the teenagers, but also that of the remaining teachers, who were inexperienced in dealing with stress manifestation. 

The call ended an hour later with a sixty three page contract in your inbox and a new job. You covered a broad range of subjects but your field of study was an elective, therefore smaller than you are used to. Even so it was your territory now. You tried to own it. The desks have been rearranged into a U shape, charts with interactive pieces affixed to the surface, and you decorated the space with Nedzu’s express permission in hopes of making it inviting. 

Over a month into the term and you can’t yet say you regret taking up his offer.

“Phyletic gradualism and punctuated equilibrium are the two extremes in a continuous model of evolution. The first kind is a far more uniform and gradual accumulation of changes that subsequently generate new species…”

Your mouth keeps moving as you scan the classroom for the fifth time, words muffled by the brief loss of focus. The students don’t notice the lapse; most eyes are still on you, some clouded and others intent on listening. It’s a true miracle that nobody has fallen asleep—though Kaminari is always a close call. Beneath it all is the soft, frantic scratch of Midoriya’s pen to paper and his low mutter, holding the attention of a bone weary Bakugo. 

“…Comparatively, punctuated equilibrium proposes that once a species appears, it becomes stable, showing little evolutionary change until an event triggers a rapid speciation process”.

Yaoyorozu’s hand flies up and startles Shinsou to attention. Her enthusiasm brings a slight smile to your lips. You point to her, “Yes, Yaoyorozu?”

“In that case, Sensei, would that mean that quirks are an example of punctuated equilibrium?” she asks. 

“That is the most agreed upon theory amongst the quirk science community,” you reply, directing the answer toward the entire class. There’s a scarce mix of Class A, B, and support students. Monoma straightens under your gaze. He’s flanked by Kouda, who returns a mousy smile, fingers idly petting Yuwai-chan, his pet rabbit. 

“Quirks are our reality—that much is undeniable. But with that comes a myriad of unknowns. How, why, and when did this happen to us?” Striding toward the board you uncap a blue marker with your teeth and write the phrase ‘theories’ down in large, neat penmanship. You cast a passing glance to the clock. Any minute now. 

“There is still no definitive answer. So for your next assignment I’m going to ask that you research and write an essay on a specific theory about the dawn of quirks,” you are helpless to the wicked grin that pulls across your mouth at their collective groan. “It’s due next Friday. That’s ten whole days to complete it! So generous, aren't I?” 

Overhead, a bell blares out an incessant ring to indicate the lessons end, and in a moment of synchronicity each student rouses from their chair. Bakugo shoves his hands into his pockets and makes a beeline for the door and ignores Midoriya’s aborted squawk as he shoves his notes into his backpack. 

“Thank you Sensei,” he stammers, rushing after the boy. “Wait for me, Kacchan!” 

Nobody calls attention to the seemingly tumultuous relationship. The 2A kids in particular watch their interactions with a trepid fondness. They’re always like that—or so Shinsou told you, once, barely audible over Bakugo’s incendiary growls as he hauled his childhood friend into a headlock. You understood it a little when you heard Midoriya’s bubbly laughter for the first time. And you let them be. 

The others file out slowly, lost in conversation or waiting on a friend. Iida stops at your desk and bows before leaving, bidding you an effusive goodbye, a habit he has steadfastly maintained no matter how much you assure him otherwise. In stark contrast the two subdued support students, Toma and Nakao, throw a simple salute with startling synchrony.

Just when you think you have some peace, a shadow crosses your peripheral vision. “Yo, Sensei,” Kaminari chirped. There’s an edge to his voice that draws your attention. Shinsou lingers nearby feigning disinterest as Kaminari fidgets with his blazer button. “About the—uh. About the essay…”

Blinking away your initial confusion you sit up in realisation. “Oh! That’s right,” Kaminari tenses as you lean across the desk, flicking through your copious bits of stationery. You peel off a cloud shaped sticky note and write down a date and time before handing it to the boy. 

“I scheduled a one to one so we can go over everything you’ve done before the deadline,” you explain gently. Kaminari takes the note between his fingers, grip delicate either end as though afraid it might tear. “Don’t worry if you lose that. I’m going to send the details to your student email, and I’ll remind you again on the day. That sound good?”

Had you been any younger your eyes might’ve stung at the clear wonder unfolding on his face; surprised and happy to be accommodated without interrogation. Now there is only a dull ache beneath your skull and resentment in your heart. His reaction spoke to the copious rejection he faced before UA. 

You’ve come to learn that children are only ever as brilliant as you allow them to be. 

“Y—yeah. That’s amazing, thanks Sensei,” Kaminari steadily brightens. His fist hits his chest with a quiet thump, “I won’t let’cha down!” 

“I’m sure you won’t. And please don’t forget to bring your overlays,” you call to them as they amble out into the hallway. Shinsou holds the door, nodding shortly in acknowledgement. The savoury smell of curry has already distracted Kaminari enough to have him forget your discussion. 

You sigh, hearing their laughter grow quiet in the distance. Another muted pang echoes through your skull. Expression contorted, you wince and gather your things, thoughts latched onto the lacquered bento box that awaits in the teachers lounge to distract from the pain. 

Once a stream of bustling students is now a mere trickle, stragglers hanging by the bathrooms, others cross legged in front of their lockers, grouped tightly together without causing obstruction. They appear wilted. An overarching air of despondency; grey against the brightly painted corridor. 

The muscles in your face twinge. You resolve to greet them all, offering a smile as sincere as you can muster despite the heaviness in your heart. For many of these kids, if not all, life would never be the same. So young, grappling with such unprecedented loss. 

You come to a halt. Lofty double doors loom. Your fingers curl into the recessed handle and you slide them open. Though the walls are bare, the windows are large, and into the staff lounge beams intrepid light. 

You’re met with a chorus of sluggish murmurs, few heads lifting to see who has entered. Of the faces present there are two you’re most familiar with—class 2A’s heroics mentor and their homeroom teacher. 

Yagi is hunched at his computer desk. A cardigan too large for his frame is draped across his shoulders and pools around his wrists. Cradled in one hand is a thermos covered in stickers. Steam pours from the open top, wispy tendrils curling into the air. You inhale and recognise the weak scent of bone broth. 

Those sunken eyes flicker as you approach, striking blue roving over your form. Whatever he sees must be cause for concern. “Are you feeling unwell?”

You had felt an immediate fondness for Toshinori Yagi when you first met him. The presence of All Might hung tangibly in the air, a stifling ode to his service that still unnerved those who did not know him, but you were different. Like his colleagues, you looked back and saw a well meaning, sweet but bumbling older man. 

“No, no,” you demurred. “It’s just a headache”. 

Yagi grimaces sympathetically, furrow etched into his brow. Hips slumped low on the staff sofa, garish yellow sleeping bag at his feet, Aizawa hums a low amused sound that draws your attention. You’re surprised he’s awake. “My kids will do that to you,” he murmurs. 

The Erasure hero’s head is tipped to bare his throat, jawline shadowed by stubble. Dark curtains of hair fall across his shoulders. Aizawa is handsome. This you cannot deny. Before you met you’d heard him described as quite the opposite. Yet here you are, magnetised to him; to his callous humour, and the rough, rare instances of laughter; to the sturdy body hidden beneath baggy clothing and the deep, blasé manner in which he speaks. 

You swallow the sight thickly and pinch the bridge of your nose with a self deprecating laugh. It’s just a silly crush. “Nothing like that,” you assure him. The chair creaks slightly beneath your thighs as you recline. “I don’t think I slept well last night”. 

Admitting it invites a sudden wave of fatigue. Aizawa is no stranger to exhaustion. You think he could probably sleep anywhere—hell, you’ve seen him sleep standing up. He regards you thoughtfully, and the longer he stares the warmer your collar becomes. You feel his scrutiny even as you avert your eyes. 

Incognisant to the tension, Yagi continues to fret. “Ah, that’s no good. Let me make you some coffee,” he insists, brushing off his pants as he stands. Yagi sheds the feeble slope from his shoulders and you blink at the burst of energy. 

“Alright. Thank you, Yagi-san,” you reply, voice dwindling as he ducks into the modest kitchen connected to the lounge. Aizawa clicks his tongue. 

“You’ll regret that,” he breathes, ensuring the other man would not hear. “Unless you’re a fan of drinking tar”. 

“Don’t be mean. I’m sure it’s not that bad,” your trembling lips press firmly together, not wanting to to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh. He exhales and shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your funeral’. 

Yagi soon returns holding a cup of coffee and your bento box. “Here. I thought you might want to eat,” he gives a signature toothy grin. You say nothing of the shake in his hands as he sets them down on your desk and bring the hot drink to your mouth. 

The coffee is awful. You hold your breath and smother the urge to cough, swallowing it down with feigned enthusiasm. The astringent taste lingers. A shudder runs throughout your body and you inhale sharply. “That—will definitely wake me up. Thank you, Yagi-san,” you rasp, trying to smile. Yagi looks rather pleased and gives a thumbs up. 

Next you look, Aizawa has shucked the sleeping bag up to his midsection and burrowed into his capture weapon, leaving only bloodshot eyes visible above the fabric. They’re crinkled at the edges and full of mirth—you interlock and he lifts his chin to mouth, “Told you”. 

That shouldn’t be so attractive, you think.

On the next mouthful of your rice you subtly uncurl your middle finger from beneath your chopsticks and pointedly flip it at Aizawa. He snorts, amused. 

“Gesundheit,” Yagi chimed between sips, enjoying the warm broth in his thermos flask. From what you understood he had to follow a strict liquid only diet. He could hardly stomach solids anymore. “Are you getting sick too, Aizawa-kun?” 

Aizawa sighs at the obliviousness, though you think he’s a little glad for it. 

The conversation tapers and the lunch hour crawls on. Your mind drifts to the students as you idly chew, grains ground to mush, vision blurring out of focus. Thankfully it appeared to be one of their better days. Shinsou remained awake for the entire period. Yaoyarozu participated confidently. The shadows under Bakugo’s eyes hadn’t been as severe. Iida’s legs had not restlessly bounced under the table. Midoriya kept his hands to himself and felt no need to feel for his friend's heartbeat. 

However one of your more boisterous spirits, Monoma, had been noticeably withdrawn. Kouda’s rabbit—trained to detect and assist with anxiety—scrambled into his arms on numerous occasions. 

Your skin prickles, alerted to the weight of someone’s gaze on your back. Not a second later you hear the low call of your name. Aizawa slips into the chair opposite, disconcertingly silent in his approach, and leans his chin against his fist. 

“If you keep thinking so hard, All Might really is going to give himself a hernia,” he mutters. 

Yagi’s lighthearted chuckle devolves into a harsh spluttering cough. “Blunt as always, Aizawa-kun,” he jokes, voice muffled by his hand. 

“I’m not sure he could even get a hernia…” you muse, offering him a tissue. Yagi nods in thanks as he wipes the blood from his mouth. “I was thinking about the kids, that's all”. 

Aizawa tilts his head. The sun settles at her highest point and golden pleats stretch across his face. These are the rare instances that his artificial eye becomes observable. Light refracts in the iris, glittering crimson through graphene layers. 

“They’ve really taken a shine to you,” he says, and it comes like an accusation, softened by the slight jut to his lips. You smirk, shutting your bento box and setting it aside. How wonderfully petty. 

“Curious?” 

“Midoriya burst into class last week and asked Tokoyami if he had a twin that he ate in the womb,” he drawls, brow twitching. Yagi splutters. “So yes, I’m curious what it is you’re teaching my students”. 

A fleeting sense of exasperation comes over you. Trust Midoriya to abandon delicacy in his eagerness. “I assume it’s because we covered the genetics of chimerism and how it relates to quirk inheritance,” you say, bemused. Hopefully Tokoyami was not offended. It’s a wonder he didn’t ask Todoroki.

“And how does it?” Yagi blink owlishly as you turn to him in surprise. “I’m curious!” he defends. 

“Oh. Well, genetic chimerism is when an organism has multiple sets of DNA often originating from the fusion of different zygotes,” you recite. Instinctively, your posture straightens as though you were back in the classroom. “This can happen with twin embryos. One absorbs the other and as a result, they have two sets of DNA”. 

“O—oh…?”

“So,” you continue, fingers wrung together in your lap, turning to give him your full attention. Colour drains from the retired hero’s cheeks. “The question I presented was this: would it then be possible for the surviving twin to inherit an additional quirk?”

“I see,” Yagi swallows and his grin strains at the edges as he realises you are waiting for a genuine answer. “Ah, I’m not—”

The lunch bell abruptly begins to ring. You both startle in your seats. Unperturbed, Aizawa pushes to his feet. His hair falls forward as he sways in place and meets your gaze. “As interesting as this is, we need to get to gym gamma for basic heroics,” he says, tone laced with monotony. 

Yagi jumps at the chance to escape. You try not to laugh. He continues to nervously glance over his shoulder, worried that you might be disheartened, but you wave them off happily. 

Coworkers come and go throughout the afternoon. Kurose keeps you company during their free period, later joined by Yamada, who insisted on quizzing you about western rock music. With no classes left to teach you spend the remainder of your day planning quirk counselling sessions, printing worksheets and sending routine emails, headache persisting. 

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From: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  To: Kaminari.Denki@UAedu.jp  Subject: Reminder [High importance] Message: 

Good afternoon,

Please see the two files I have attached to this email. One has a highlighted version of the essay brief, and another detailing how to structure an essay. 

As I mentioned, I have booked a one to one session for us to go over your draft and any concerns next week on [x] September 13:00 — 14:00. However do not hesitate to email me with any questions you have before this date. 

Take care!

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After the final bell rings you linger a while, not wanting to be swept away in throngs of students making their way to the dorms. There are no stragglers as you leave and your footsteps reverberate unsettlingly throughout the main building. 

The sky bleeds into early dusk with disquieting rays of light. Gentle enough that you can look directly into the sun and see the canvas it paints. Standing in the middle of the walkway, balefully watching the far off horizon, the early autumn air makes you shiver. 

Living on campus was a big change. Even so you had little to complain about. The staff dormitories are larger and much more private. You’d been given a studio on the second floor, neighbour to Ishiyama, the rather withdrawn cement hero. While there is a bathroom and kitchenette in each apartment you usually preferred to cook in the shared kitchen, conjoined to an open plan common room. 

Another familiar face greets you as you enter. Powerloader is seated at the dining table, mulling over a mess of blueprints. Quirk science and quirk support often went hand in hand thus you had collaborated before, albeit very rarely. 

He lifts his head at your entrance, face obscured by long, spiked copper hair. Seeing him free of his big excavator helmet—much like with Kurose without their space suit—is still quite strange. “Hey, Maijima-san,” you skim over what looks to be a box buckle belt. “Working on anything interesting?”

“I’m designing an MMF induction system for Tetsutetsu in 2B,” he explained, sifting through the papers to show another preliminary sketch. You notice the ink stain on the heel of his hand. “I’m hoping with the belt and armbands acting as coils we could turn him into an electromagnet of sorts”. 

“Wow. That’s actually pretty cool. There are so many things he could do with that,” you mumbled. Flash bangs. Emergency power. Assisting in triage. The possibilities were endless. Awed, you lean forward to scrutinise the chicken scrawl dotted around the drawings, some characters smudged beyond your comprehension. “How do you plan to measure his tolerance to—?”

“Mochi?!” a small, giddy voice interrupts. 

“…Mochi?” you repeat, bewildered. You look toward the source, gaze falling upon two silvery pigtails. Eri rocks on her heels and excitedly holds out a curved plate full of rice cakes. The height draws her sweater sleeves down her thin, scarred forearms. She makes a droning noise to stress that you take one. 

Aizawa strolls out from the kitchen behind her. A dull clink accompanies his footsteps, slanted to one side. You immediately note the various colourful clips pinning his hair away from his face, tied into a similar pigtail style, though tousled and loose.

“Eri,” he rumbles. “It’s impolite to interrupt private conversations”. 

The little girl wilts a fraction as her expression pinches in worry. She lowers the plate, but before it is out of reach, Maijima stretches across the table to snatch one up. Eri brightens at the exaggerated happy sound he makes as he chews, “This is some good mochi, Eri-chan. I’ll forgive you this once”. 

“Thank you, Maijiji,” she chimes. At that Maijima’s jaw unhinges mid-chew, the corners of his mouth twitching in quiet shock. Aizawa’s nostrils flare. He turns his head from the scene. Similarly, you tuck your chin to conceal your smirk and pluck up a mochi for yourself. 

“These look delicious,” you tell her, diverting the topic from Maijima—who, in your periphery, is mouthing ‘old man?!’ toward Aizawa with some incredulity. Eri’s focus remains on your face. She watches intently as the sticky dough yields under your thumbs. 

You tear a piece away to eat. Softer, smoother on the inside. It begins to melt on your tongue. The red bean paste is sweet with earthy undertones. “Wow!” the exclamation comes warbled, muffled. Eri tugs at the hem of her pink knit sweater, her smile stretching wider. “You’re very kind for sharing these, Eri”. 

“Mhm. S’because Yama-san teached me a quote in English today,” she effuses proudly, “He said sharing is caring”. The foreign enunciation doesn’t quite fit, like the words are choppy in her mouth, but they fall easily from her lips as if she has practised them a hundred times.

“Taught,” Aizawa corrected, bending into view to take the plate from her hands and set it on the table. She blinks at him curiously, and he explains, “You should say ‘Yama-san taught me’, not teached”. 

“Oh,” she says. You watch fondly as he licks his thumb to wipe away a smear of bean paste on her chin. Her face scrunches up, lips pursed and air in her cheeks. 

“And now you’ve been taught a new word,” you add, pulling off a bigger piece of mochi. Eri bounces in place as you offer it to her and she shoves it into her mouth. “Thank you for the treat, Eri. I think I’ll enjoy this in my room”. 

“Ywor lea’win’?” 

Aizawa sighs and concedes defeat to her poor manners. He cradles the crown of her head with his palm, stroking her hair. “I’m a little tired so I really want to take a shower and get in my pyjamas,” you say, hoping to placate her with a smile. “But I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime tomorrow, okay?”

Eri concedes rather reluctantly. Her fondness for you, once a stranger from the yawning unknown, is warming. Though her dejection is short-lived, soon distracted by the late arrival of Yagi and Yamada. 

The soft hair on your neck prickles. Sensing his stare you meet Aizawa’s gaze, heavy enough to feel like touch. It stirs a fleeting sort of hope in your chest. He looks gentle, frame wrapped up in the gauzy evening lustre. You clear your throat, “Did heroics go well in the end?” 

His brow twitches and you get the distinct feeling that you’re being laughed at. “No broken bones. So I would say so,” he deadpanned. 

“If it were anyone else saying that I’d be concerned,” you smiled, knowing class 2A in particular was well renowned for incurring injuries in training. “It was their first one since… everything, right? I’m glad they’re doing okay”. 

He hums, eyes sliding toward his daughter when her laughter breaks the delicate quiet. You shift awkwardly where you stand, overly conscious of Maijima seated nearby, now engrossed in his work. Aizawa levelled his voice, “How’s the headache?” 

“Persistent,” you murmur. Acknowledging it invites another dull pang inside your skull. “Honestly I can’t wait to get in bed”. 

“Hear hear,” he breathes. The corner of his mouth curls as he looks at you and gravity vaults around your stomach, rendering you momentarily weightless. Just a crush, you think, half hysterical. “Get some rest. If you plan on missing dinner then take a jelly pouch or an energy bar with you”. 

Touched by his concern you sway toward the kitchen. Your teeth sink into your cheek, biting down a grin where he cannot see it. “Yeah, okay,” you laugh under your breath. Louder then, “But I’m going to take your favourite flavour”. 

“Don’t push your luck,” he dared. 

You retire to your apartment with a green jelly packet in hand and a clunky wave. Energy seeps out of you like water through a sieve as soon as your door shuts. Fatigue creeps in; the body needing rest yet the mind restless. 

The shower does little to shake you awake. Dragging your feet to your bedroom, pouch uncapped and held between your lips. Tepid air sticks to still damp skin. Your bed yields, thoughts slowing. You crawl across the mattress, cheeks hollow as you lazily suck the jelly until the foil wrinkles. 

Cocooned in plush fleece and linen, you tilt your head and let it loll against the pillow; exhaustion sweeps through you, consciousness waning. The ache behind your eyes lessens as they close. You sleep. 

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From: Kaminari.Denki@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: RE: Reminder [High importance] Message: 

Hi hi

The worksheets really helped!!! You’re the best, Sensei!

I was talking to Mido and he said some ppl think quirks are a genetic mutation from a disease spread by rats?? ? (◎-◎;) super freaky. Can I make that my essay topic? 

Thnx!

Kaminari Denki AKA ⚡️ CHARGEBOLT

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From: Midoriya.Izuku@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp Subject: An analysis of the Q-gene theory Message:

Sorry to email so late! Or early haha… I found some articles while I was researching that I think will be helpful to my essay but the journal is not open access. Is there any way that I cannnnnnnnvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvccccccccccccccvvvvvvccccccccccccccccvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Sent from my ePhone 

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Morning comes abruptly. The sound of your alarm cuts out as you stretch across the bed to hit snooze, limbless and heavy handed. You rise with a crick in your neck. Barely cognisant, the floor rises to meet you, cool against the soles of your feet. 

A mottle of pale blue and white blended into a grey low lit morning, flooding the common area. It’s no surprise to you that people are already awake. Snipe is seated on the couch meticulously cleaning his pistol while Kurose is clad in their gym wear, jogging in place where they wait for Yagi to zip up his jacket. 

Upright, he beams at the sight of you, “Good morning! You look much better today”. 

You do not feel much better. 

“Morning,” you return lightly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Snipe tips his hat in your direction with a quiet grunt. “Are the others still asleep?” 

The drooping blonde hair that frame’s Yagi’s face sway as he shakes his head. “Not everyone. I believe Yamada-kun is at his radio station. Ectoplasm is out walking the perimeter with Hound Dog. Though Aizawa-kun may be sleeping…”

“He got back from night patrol a few hours ago,” Kurose adds. They wave both hands at you, spacetime wielding fingers wiggling as though to entice you, “That aside, would you like to join us on our morning run?” 

Your expression immediately shifts, exhibiting strong disinclination. “I appreciate the invite, but I’d rather return to a horizontal position until my work hours start”. 

Kurose laughs warmly. Yagi, however, insists on reciting the benefits to early exercise while he ties and reties his shoes. You send them off, holding the door open to breathe in the morning dew, and spend a minute feeling the cool air prickle your cheeks. 

The day crawls on. You get to your classroom before the first period and review the lesson plans. The third years stagger to their seats. You can sympathise with their dead eyed stares—two hours of quirk regulation law is not exactly the most riveting topic—and take no offense to their spiritless attitudes. 

Third period is spent fostering discussion about politics with the business students. By the time lunch hour comes and goes you have barely left your classroom. Your next set is composed of first year hero students. This academic year both class 1A and B had been mixed into the same group. Hardly six months after a war steeped in blood and sacrifice, Japan’s citizens were not so eager to hand their children over to a hero school. Thus there were few applicants. Nevertheless, Principal Nedzu remained optimistic about their potential. 

Straight away you understood his judgement. In covering the quirk history module you saw first hand their iron willed determination to learn from the past and change the system. Hands are thrown high in the air—eager despite your intention to wind down—as you inquire their thoughts about the quirk classification system. 

“The whole thing is bull—brainless!” one of your more headstrong students, Higuchi, calls out. You can picture the lurid glare behind his blacked out glasses. His classmates murmur in agreement. 

“He’s right, Sensei,” Kaneko, 1B class president, adds quietly. The air distorts around her when she speaks and your jaw clenches, withholding a flinch as your ear pops. “Why are there only three categories? It makes no sense”. 

“I agree. The classification system is simplistic and outdated. Which is what leads me into my final question…” you hold out your hands in mock surrender, brows pointedly arched, and they settle down. In that instant, the door slides open and disrupts the peace. Every head turns to watch Eraserhead slip brazenly into the classroom, and after a pregnant pause, gesture for you to continue. 

Heat rises to the high point of your cheeks. His expression is soft in the artificial light, fixed on you with intent and sincere intrigue. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.  “Ah—What was I saying?” you joked nervously. Sensing your embarrassment the kids begin to laugh under their breath. “That’s right. My question is, if possible, what are some of the categories you would introduce to improve the quirk database? Brainstorm for me. There are no wrong answers!” 

Those eyes nag at you for the remainder of the hour. With another teacher present, heralded as a war hero no less, the motivation to impress increases tenfold. You bullet point their answers on the class board, prompting further explanation or examples and suggesting your own. It’s a welcome distraction—

And the outcome is far more comprehensive than you expected:

Generation describes quirks that allow the individual to create something from their body. Example: Creati. 

Manipulation refers to quirks that control what is pre existing. Example: Poltergeist. 

Users with a Transmutation quirk can change or alter the function of things around them. Example: Mudman.

Augmentation quirks allow the individual to improve their own body in some way. Example: Mount Lady. 

Information quirks classify those that can detect, understand and apply information. Example: Nighteye.

You watch them rush to scribble the list down. Murmurings carry through the classroom as they turn to one another, listing more examples, giving thought to how each quirk should be designated. Pride swells in your chest. 

“I have a question”.

Aizawa remained hunched in the corner, one hand deep in his pocket. The other is raised lazily above his head. This elicits some anticipation from your students. You motion for him to continue, “Yes, Aizawa-sensei?”

“Erasure is listed as ‘Emitter’ in the quirk database. This means I share a category with quirks which are fundamentally different, such as Hellflame,” he speaks with a calm, assertive cadence that holds the kids' attention. His gaze sweeps across the class and they squirm. “Tell me, what would you categorise my quirk as to draw that distinction?”

The long silence is contemplative rather than daunting. Higuchi fakes a cough. He lifts his fist, fingers unfurling as his wrist then falls limp, feigning indifference. It was made no secret that he admired Eraserhead, given their shared ocular abilities. Allure was a powerful quirk. Persuaded with a single glance, inhibited only by the specialised lenses in his glasses. 

Thus you recognise the attitude change for what it is—a preemptive measure in the case that he slips in front of the man he admires. “Higuchi,” you warmly addressed. Aizawa centres his attention on the boy. “Do you have a suggestion for Aizawa-sensei?”

“Y—yeah,” he says. “I thought we could add something like ‘Condition’ to the list…?”

“Can you elaborate on that?” you try to encourage. Aizawa’s posture shifts, his interest piqued. 

“I was just thinking, Erasure doesn’t fit any of the shi—stuff we thought up,” Higuchi continues, his fingers knotted tight on the desk, knuckles white. “Condition would cover people whose quirks enforce a condition on others. Like an infatuation quirk or—or my own quirk”.

Everybody is seemingly waiting with bated breath. You glance back at Aizawa, now carefully regarding Higuchi. You know that look. “Not bad, kid,” he nods, quietly pleased. Higuchi grins. 

Smiling, you move to add ‘Condition’ to the list. 

You’re on edge after the bell rings. Aizawa’s presence brushes you like a breath of balmy air, biding his time while you send off your class, grunting in response to those who bow in his direction. When you finally turn his half lidded gaze is mellowed. 

“So,” you begin clumsily. “Is there any particular reason why you interrupted my lesson?” 

Aizawa hums. A sound so deep, so supple you want to lean into it. “I have a favour to ask. Is the rest of your afternoon free?” 

“The Eraserhead asking me a favour?” you tease, needlessly lining up your stationary before collecting your things. “I’ve got no more classes to teach, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

“All Might can’t assist supervising heroics training this afternoon,” he mutters, examining your display boards with absentminded curiosity. 

“You need to give me more than that, Aizawa”. 

He exhales, mouth pressed thin, ducking into his capture weapon. You see a shift in expression, the skin of his cheeks drawing up to crinkle around his eyes. The petulance brings a smirk to your lips. Aizawa had been mildly avoidant and emotionally reserved from the moment you met him, but for someone so motivated by logic he seemed to expect you to read his mind lately. 

“Two people are required to oversee the class”

“And you want that second person to be me?”

“If you’re going to be difficult I can ask Thirteen,” he replies dryly. The tip of his tongue wets his bottom lip, tempting your gaze. You feel yourself consciously resisting. 

The empty threat hangs lightly in the room. Your smirk gentles into a smile. He tracks your movement, standing aside while you tuck in the desk chair. “No, no. I’ll come,” you demurred. “I want to help. Let’s go”. 

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From: Shinsou.Hitoshi@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: — Message: 

Hisorrywoulditbepossibletogetanextensiononmyessay?Myspacebarisbroken. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

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From blue rafters to monochrome stone, the arched structure of Gym Gamma comes into view. Towers over you as you approach. Aizawa’s footsteps are purposeful and his legs carry him forward with a lumbering gait. You’ve changed into shoes befitting the outdoors—a pair of boots that hug your calves tight and keep your ankles warm as the afternoon wanes toward an inevitable cold evening. 

“The students participating today have been previously cleared for training in a controlled environment by their psychiatrist,” Aizawa says, breathing slightly visible in the autumn chill. His hands are buried deep in his capture weapon. “First they’ll start by sparring without quirks to warm up. If I see no risk they can then move on to using quirks”.

Allowing the kids to train again had been a sensitive matter. Not a single hero student came out the war unscathed; the first years especially, given the proximity to AFO, were dealt extensive physical and psychological trauma—a handful even undergoing  forced quirk awakening. Throwing them back into a battle environment, controlled or otherwise, needed to be handled with care. 

Aizawa did just that, and to your knowledge he always had. He exercised caution with his students. Even if it came across as harsh. Even if the chances of danger were nil. He was staunchly protective of his brood. You understood that to be the reason why their parents trusted him to lead them forward—

And you hoped it meant he would be open to your advice throughout the training. 

Your head bobs, nodding in acknowledgment. “During the latter half of the session, if I see signs of a student in distress—?”

“Inform me,” he cuts in firmly. A flash of crimson pools into his irises, gone between blinks, and you’re left to wonder if it was just a trick of the light. “I’ll erase their quirks and stop the spar before it escalates”. 

You ponder that as Aizawa shields his eyes and scans the beyond when a chorus of voices reaches your ears. An amalgamation of 2A and 2B are waiting by the gym doors, with the few that recognise you excitedly waving their arms and calling your name. 

“Understood,” a small smile pulls at your lips. You wave toward the group, donned in their UA tracksuits. “You’re the boss”. 

Iida graciously bids you both welcome, his hand chopping through the air as he speaks over the others and attempts to assuage them. Questions of All Might’s whereabouts are few and far, instead entirely focused on your unexpected presence—all the more surprising that Midoriya visibly brightens, unaffected by his mentor’s absence. 

You allow Aizawa to take the wheel while he makes introductions, rocking idly on your feet, nodding along when prompted. “I’m sure some of you are well acquainted, whether it be through individual quirk consultations or taking quirk science as your chosen elective…”

Yaoyorozu is poised beside a fellow student, Jirou, arms crossed over her midriff. Fingers wiggle by the crook of her elbow in another subtle wave, smile gracing her lips. Bakugo catches the movement and his eyes flicker in your direction. He acknowledges you with a short nod.

“Today is not about analysing the progression of your quirks. We will be observing how you apply them,” he continues. There’s a fleeting emphasis to his voice. It carries an underlying warning, the same way a parent might quietly reprimand a child. The class visibly stands straighter and Midoriya raises his hand. 

Aizawa exhales, a fond sort of exasperation shining through, “…Midoriya”.

“Will we receive individual feedback?” Midoriya eagerly questioned. “And can we get Sensei’s opinion on our own ideas? Because—!”

“Kid,” Aizawa drawls. Colour paints Midoriya’s face pink but he seems bashful rather than ashamed. “Once we move onto sparring with quirks, yes, you will be notified of anything we deem significant. After class”. 

Bakugo, Monoma, Shinsou, Tetsutetsu and Midoriya appear particularly motivated by this. You clear your throat, gaze sliding to Aizawa as you add, “And anyone seeking my opinion or reassurance is free to email me. We can set up a meeting. That’s what I’m here for, after all”.  

The hour wore on. Aizawa was happy to watch in comfortable silence, offering up any thoughts and observations as they passed. There’s a clear sense of pride about him. A softness. Comfortable showing it now he’s a distance from the prying eyes of his students.

Hand-to-hand warm ups progress to quirk use. Some have formed small battle royale type groups while the others chose to pair up. You scan the gym with a keen eye. The quick streak of Midoriya’s red sneakers as his left foot pivots on the mats catches your attention. His opponent, Todoroki, falls into a balanced stance. 

You watch their fight unfold. The intensity swells. Dread prickles down your spine. “Aizawa…” you cautioned. 

Green lightning pulses. One For All activates. A metallic taste sticks to the roof of your mouth. Midoriya’s body twists, and with it his right foot swings up in a singular, upward path. It cleaves through the air, a slice more than it is a swing, and the force lands squarely on the side of Todoroki’s skull—or it would have, if he hadn’t blocked it with his arm, encased in ice. 

There’s a split second in which everything stops. An immense, charged force bore down on your lungs. Your vision blurred. As quick as it came the lightning died out and a deluge of shattered ice fell to the ground. 

“Ouch,” Todoroki says, cradling his wrist. You think that probably doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Aizawa sprinted across the room without ceremony, his hair hung high in suspension and ready to step in. Todoroki interjects first. Presumably to defend his friend and assure them both that he’s fine. While Aizawa scans his forearm for any sign of major injury you watch Midoriya return to himself. Colour drains from his face. Chest heaving. There’s a violent tremor in his legs.  Between rapid blinks you hear the crack in his mumbled apologies. 

Aizawa settles a gentle hand on his shoulder. The rest of the students return to their matches, save for a select few who spare Midoriya a concerned glance—nevertheless, nobody is truly surprised. You can only wonder how often this happens. 

Midoriya broke himself for the sake of others more times than you could stomach, and you’ve been witness to how uniquely adept he is at hiding those splintered parts first hand. With the wound still so fresh, people needed the courageous, forthright, spirited version of him, the one with the beaming smile and the promise of safety. At only sixteen years old that is already his delegated role in life. 

There are not enough words to depict just how catastrophic the war had been. You suffered heart-wounds of your own but in facing the sacrifice these children gave you felt a contrite, shameful hole in your consciousness. This is victory; the only one on the table, and it is painful.

While Aizawa calms Midoriya, your focus returns to the rest of the class. Tetsutetsu is holding his own against Iida. Kuroiro is half steeped in shadow, reflexively sinking into his quirk as he wards off Bakugo’s punches. You note that Kaminari is unsteady on his feet, having already discharged too much electricity. 

Something about Monoma’s hesitance also holds your attention. Of the abilities he’s used there has only been four. Odd, given his ability to hold five at a time, and the plethora of quirks surrounding him. 

You chew your lip and it occurs to you that he must be keeping one on reserve from prior to the lesson. The next thought comes unbidden, inhaling sharply as a sudden, cold sort of clarity slides through you. 

The only quirk you imagine Monoma could still be intentionally holding onto is the one he took during the fight against AFO. Erasure. 

“What’re you thinking?”

You shake out of your stupor and find Aizawa closer than expected. Somewhere in between he had tied his hair up. He tucks a wayward strand behind his ear, eyes squinted and wrinkling the scar tissue high on his cheek. “What?” you ask dumbly. 

“You went somewhere,” he clarifies. You feel his knuckles lightly knock your temple. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Ah,” you smile, abashed, and rub the spot of skin he touched. “Just making mental notes. I wish I had brought something to write with”.

“Well?” Aizawa says, as though his silence was enough of an invitation. “Tell me about them”. 

“It’s obvious the student’s have made incredible progress when compared to their first year quirk assessments. But there are some minor adjustments that I think will help considerably…”

You go on to list ideas for development and support tech. Things like regularly involving parkour into all their training routines. Or having Iida request smaller engines along the front legs of his costume for faster braking, or sharper turns. Or experimenting with Mina’s quirk, testing how precise her control is over her acid’s viscosity and if she could potentially create gaseous forms.

Your awareness wanes periodically, pausing open mouthed to discern the skill of each group, weighing your thoughts. To his credit Aizawa does listen to you ramble, mellowing the longer you speak. Tension seeps from his shoulders as though pulled down by gravity and that look of contentment returns. 

“In terms of wielding their quirk the one I’m most concerned about is probably Kaminari,” you hesitate, chewing your lip as your voice lowers. “I believe he still views his quirk as a final move”.

Aizawa leans forward, attentive to your opinion, and hums. The dulcet melody is warm by your ear—

You become conscious of his proximity. The air retains his heat, the indistinct woodsy notes that always clung to his clothes. 

—and your throat constricts as you swallow.

“Because of that he immediately jumps from zero to one hundred. I’ve seen his files. It results in mild cranial nerve lesions which then induces temporary impairment mid battle,” you continue soberly, staring ahead with lips stretched into strained assurance as some of the students begin to notice your proximity. 

Monoma strikes the back of Tetsutetsu’s leg as he makes a suggestive gesture, making him collapse on one knee. You close your eyes as embarrassment floods your body, “I have to wonder if he ever worked with a quirk counsellor in the first place”. 

Aizawa signals his agreement and moves back a fraction. His expression remained unchanged. He is by no means an unfeeling man, but you can’t help being jealous about how unshaken he is. All the while you probably look like a spring bouquet. 

“So, how do you suggest we help him?” 

His genuine countenance tempered your short lived frustration, and the word ‘we’ echoed in your mind. You knew what he meant, but it still brought a pleasant flutter to your chest. “I think we should start by having support give him a multimeter,” you reply. “Atleast that way we can discern the point that he begins to lose cognition and work upwards from there”. 

“Alright. I’ll ask Maijima-san once we’re done here,” he nods. There is a tentative pause. “Anything else you think needs to be addressed?” 

“There is…Monoma,” you add. His head turns in your peripheral vision, visibly taken aback. 

“Monoma?” he repeated. 

“This is just speculation on my part,” you grimace, sparing a glance toward the students. As the session winds down they’ve gathered in the centre of the mats, talking to one another. “But I have a hunch that he might still be holding onto your quirk”.

Aizawa’s face becomes pinched. The apparent frustration grows as his expression shifts. Mouth twisting, jaw moving with gritted teeth. “I should’ve noticed,” he mutters. 

“Monoma is primarily in Kan-san’s care, not yours. If anything he should be the one to notice,” you say, subtly detailing his side profile as he continues to observe his class. “Between the media circus, your physiotherapy, teaching and being a father—you can hardly blame yourself”. 

The bridge of his nose wrinkles at that. “Shit, sorry. Did I overstep?” you fret. 

Aizawa’s expression smooths out, reluctantly. He exhales. “No. I’m just not used to the idea of being a parent, I suppose”. 

“Guardian, then,” you amended with a flippant wave, hoping to lighten the sullen atmosphere. “Though I guess teaching is like a sub-branch of parenting in itself”. 

“How so?”

“Good or bad, a teacher plays a big part in shaping a child, right?” For a strange, short moment, you’re hyper aware of how closely he watches you as you speak, and you deal with it by finding great interest in the gym floor. “Y’know. Their self confidence, beliefs and ambitions… didn’t you have anyone like that?” 

That gives him pause, and while he thinks you drink in the line of his jaw, angular and shadowed by stubble, the wispy strands framing his face as his haphazard ponytail slowly loosens, and the faint crease formed across the bridge of his nose after grimacing so frequently. 

Aizawa’s brow arches. Caught, you quickly cast your gaze to the gym floor. “Well. There is the man that made me realise I wanted to go underground,” he says, graciously ignoring your ogling. “His purple highness”.

“His purple highness?!” you echo, voice clamouring through the now quieted din, diverting the students attention from their post training stretches. “Fuck, sorry. Of all the heroes I wasn’t expecting you to say him”. 

Nakaoji Tenma, now retired hero ‘His purple highness’, was the polar opposite of Aizawa. Widely renowned for flamboyance and theatrics, his notorious vibrant two piece suit and frilly open chested jacket sporting vibrant epaulettes on each shoulder was particularly unforgettable. 

“You wouldn’t be the first. I thought Nemuri was absurd for recommending Oboro and I during her work study,” he reminisced. 

“Surely it wasn’t that bad”.

Aizawa cracks a rueful grin. “His highness quickly recognised that I would have poor media presence and tried to teach me ‘how to smile’ properly. As you can see, it didn’t work out”.

You weren’t so sure. Aizawa’s amusement always started behind his eyes, a mirth that flashed across a grey midwinter and trickled into his chest to create a brief, reserved huff of laughter; though you sense underlying melancholy as he recounts his internship and lost loved ones, his smile still curled sincerely at the edges. 

“I don’t know. I like your smile. Even if it can be a little…”

“Disturbing?” 

“Disarming,” you return, nudging his side. Without intention your fingers brushed against the rough skin of his knuckles, fine hairs prickling—and then a sudden, shrill whistle cuts suggestively through the mood, shattering it. 

Kaminari stands proud a few feet ahead of his snickering classmates, lips closed around his middle fingers. Aizawa rolls his neck with an indignant sigh. The joint clicks. He raises his voice and impassively announces, “For that you can all do ten laps”.

A chorus of objections fills the gym. One by one, the students drag their feet toward the outer edge and break into a jog. You bite back a smile, “You’re awful”. 

“Never claimed not to be,” he tells you. “All Might has another hospital appointment at the end of next week, if you want to join us again”. 

A nascent fondness unfurls in your chest. “Sure,” you murmur. “I’d like that”. 

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From: Aizawa.Shouta@UAedu.jp To: Maijima.Higari@UAedu.jp Cc: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp Subject: Request [High importance] Message:

Our resident quirk scientist has advised us to provide Kaminari Denki [ID: 16XXXX] with a multimeter to assist in his training. Do we have one on campus or am I going to have to do more paperwork?

Aizawa Shouta 2A Homeroom Teacher, UA High School Private number: +81 (03) 1234-5678 Do not call unless you are dying. 

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From: Yagi.Toshinori@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: An email is here! Message: 

My friend,

Young Midoriya informed me that you took my place alongside Eraserhead in training this afternoon. He found your input very impressive, and even expressed the desire to have you look over his notebooks. That is quite the privilege! Ah, but please don’t tell him I told you that…!!!

Thank you for your hard work today. I will see you at dinner.

Yagi Toshinori Heroics Department, UA High School └（★ｏ★）┐ 𝓹𝐥𝔲ｓ Ǘ𝐋ⓣ𝔯𝓐 ┌（★ｏ★）┘

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Something indiscernible has since shifted. 

The work week is long, and when you crawl your way out of the mire of trepidation that decidedly hung over you, the source becomes clearer. 

The kids are being weird. 

Heroes in training, absolutely, but masters in subtlety they are not. Less than innocent, mischievous whispers would reach your ears, and silhouettes duck behind the nearest corner whenever you look back. Above all else they’ve taken to closely observing your interactions with Aizawa—sometimes going as far as forcing them. Kaminari even deems it appropriate to be nosey about your love life—or rather, your lack thereof—during your supplementary one-to-one. 

“That is not your business nor is it relevant to your essay,” you told him, tapping the end of your marker against the desk. The gentle reprimand did nothing to placate him. Scratching his cheek, Kaminari simply laughed and returned to reading the annotations you’d left on his work. 

Aizawa doesn’t bat an eye to any of it. While he presented himself as an extremely private man with clear boundaries drawn between home and work, it was obvious to you that that line had been trampled. He was accustomed to their harmless meddling. 

“Believe me. It’s worse if you tell them to stop,” he said, as if they were toddlers and would eventually tire themselves out.  

You have the pleasure of teaching their final class that Friday. If you’re lucky, come Monday they’ll have forgotten whatever it is they’re hatching.

Their focus wanes with the hour, your lesson structure a little looser to lead them into the weekend. Eri had joined unexpectedly, hidden behind Midoriya’s legs and teetering on her tiptoes to peek around the room. Kouda let’s Yuwai-chan rest in her arms as she sits on her very own chair beside Shinsou, mumbling small delights. 

“Focus, guys. We all have something called a Plus Alpha Mechanism in our DNA…”

Your pen glides along the board. The quiet repetitive sound of Bakugo’s tangle fidget matches your meridian rhythm, and you could almost forget the nonsense that has shadowed you since the training session. 

“…Here. The simplest way to think of it is like this,” following along with a finger, you read the written equation. “For example, if somebody has a tail—”

“Like Ojiro-kun!” Midoriya chirps. Bakugo gives him a sidelong glare, and his cheeks fill with air. 

“Correct, Midoriya,” you smile at his sheepishness. Your finger moves along to the latter half of the equation, “But the mechanism to move and wield his tail comes from the Plus Alpha. Added together, this forms the Quirk Factor”. 

“Sensei, is it then possible that quirklessness can occur when the Plus Alpha gene expression is not activated?” Iida inquires. Midoriya’s pencil stutters. 

“That’s right,” you flash him an encouraging smile, wider as he preens. Bakugo’s hands, too, have notably faltered, the tangle fidget balled up into a knot. “It’s a popular explanation amongst fourth gen members of the medical community. Older generations tend to prefer the whole archaic toe joint theory—but I don’t have time to cover that today”. 

Midoriya and Bakugo exhale in tandem. Monoma observes their behaviour closely, chin cupped in his palm. He seems well rested which alleviates the heaviness in your chest a fraction. You hope Aizawa has had the chance to speak with him. 

“Any other questions before I start to wrap up?”

Shinsou goes to raise his hand, stopping midway. Your brow arches and he indicates to wait. You watch on as he leans down to whisper something to Eri. Her doe-eyed gaze snaps from Yuwai-chan to his face, meeting an expression apologetically soft. And whatever it is he says, she pats his cheek in response. 

Sufficiently reassured, Shinsou once again raises his hand above his head. And as he relays his question a sober atmosphere befalls the class. 

In a roundabout manner—and refusing to name him—Shinsou asks about the Quirk erasing bullets used in the Shie Hassaikai case. You, like him, immediately seek Eri’s permission to speak on it. She gathers Yuwai-chan closer and nods. 

“Despite the name, the quirk erasing bullets did not technically erase any individuals quirk genes. They were engineered to directly attack the Plus Alpha,” the tip of your pen squeaks as you write out the words below the previous equation, underlining them twice. “Therefore the quirk could no longer be activated, making them functionally quirkless”. 

Shinsou accepts this, cheek sunken where he chews the flesh. Between blinks the pensive downturn to his mouth begins to curl into a faint smirk. “What about Aizawa-sensei’s quirk?” he asks, feigning innocence.

Your benevolence tapers as the class titters. Eri giggles, muffled by Yuwai-chan’s fur, and her shoulders hunch to hide in the little neck she has. 

“While I understand why you might conflate the two, Aizawa-sensei’s ocular quirk, Erasure, deactivates the Plus Alpha temporarily,” you answer at the end of a short sigh, taking a step back to lean against the wall. You skim the room with a pointed look, “As I’m sure you have all experienced first hand”. 

A few shudder at that. The whiplash of having the connection to your quirk severed must be alarming. You imagine it’s not something one can ever get used to. 

“Oc-u-lar?” Eri repeats. You feel your expression gentle as you meet her curious gaze. 

“Ocular means it’s connected to his eyes,” you explain simply, pointing to your own. “That is why his left eye glows red when he uses his quirk. Cool, right?” 

Accepting this, Eri’s cheeks swell with her smile and she chirps in agreement, “I like his eyes. They’re pretty”. 

“She likes his eyes,” Kaminari repeats with a faux-solemn nod. “Do you think so too, Sensei?” 

Iida sits ramrod straight in his seat. The abrupt jolt knocks his glasses halfway down his nose, “That is hardly appropriate for the classroom!” 

The electric blonde waves in surrender, “It’s just an innocent question, Prez! Not like I asked if he was United States of sma—”

“Kaminari-kun!”

Something snaps. Yuwai-chan yips. A litany of orange curved pieces spray across the table. Bakugo slumps, wearing a scowl dark enough to silence the chaos, debris from the broken fidget between his fingers. “Who gives a fu—” he spares Eri a quick glance and releases a long, deliberate exhale. “Who cares. Bunch’a nosey losers”  

Worry paints Momo’s features. Somewhat uncharacteristic of her, she readily rolls up her sleeve to offer the creation of another tangle. “Bakugo-kun, do you need me to…?”

“Don’t worry, Yaoyorozu-san!” Midoriya interrupts with a sunny complexion. He lumbers his backpack into his lap, zips it open and pulls out an identical fidget. “Kacchan breaks them a lot”.

You stifle the urge to groan into your hands, or gather them all into an uncomfortably strong hug, or both. For as much as you could tease Aizawa for allowing the students to bulldoze through his work-life boundaries it is becoming clear you're just as guilty. 

Bakugo lingers after the bell rings. The others file out, some with apologetic smiles, and neither of you speak until the classroom is empty. “Is everything okay, Bakugo?” you ask lightly. 

He itches his neck. Shoulder jerking as he shrugs, giving a stiff nod. Looking a little frayed around the edges, Bakugo mutters, “Sorry about the mess. M’staying to pick it up”. 

“That’s not necessary,” you objected. A slight pout works its way onto his lips. You know well enough that for all his posturing, Bakugo respects the word of his teachers. “I assure you it’s fine, Bakugo. But I really appreciate the sentiment”.

“Whatever,” he says, barely above a mumble. He shoves his hands into his pants pockets and motions to leave. “See ya Monday, Sensei”.

“Take care, Bakugo,” you call after him. Your ears latch onto the leaden echoing of footsteps until they disappear down the hallway. Silence creeps in while you pick up the small curved pieces.  The little moment of peace you had sought all week does not arrive. There are still emails to attend to, assignments to mark and future lessons to structure—

Your stomach rumbles and interrupts that thought. Again, evermore persistent while you attempt to ignore it. Eventually you dump the collected orange pieces into your desk drawer and make for the staff lounge, switching off the lights as you go. 

All Might and Present Mic are the only two in the room. Yamada spots you first. He’s yet to remove his costume, and the leather sleeves cream as he lifts his arms, waving loosely. Yagi spins on his axis for the source of the fuss. There’s a spoon in his mouth, and his lips stretch into a smile around it. 

A smile that dims as soon as you land in your chair with a heavy sigh. “I feel that,” Yamada says. His comically tall hair reaches high over your computer monitor, green eyes peering over the frame. “Kiddos run you ragged today?” 

“I don’t know how they do it. It’s not like we’re sparring,” you snort lightly and rest your chin against your hand. The muted scent of Yagi’s greek yoghurt lingers in the air. You wrinkle your nose, “Have either of you noticed them behaving…oddly? I feel like they’ve been scheming”. 

Yagi pauses mid scoop, bewildered. He looks from you to Yamada, who appears infuriatingly in the know. “Odd?” he asks. The shadows around his eyes darken in concern. “Is there anything we should be looking out for?” 

“I wonder,” Yamada titters, tapping a finger against his nose. Green eyes smile at you over the top of his tinted lenses. “Could it have anything to do with Mina asking me about your blood type?”

“Blood type? Whatever for?” 

Covering his mouth, Yamada bends and covers his mouth, amplifying his cryptic whisper, “Romantic compatibility”.

Chewing your inner cheek, you shake your head and insist, “It’s just a popular theory about personality types from the pre quirk era”. Yagi’s expression clears. He accepts the explanation easily. You wished it were that simple. “I’m sure it’s nothing…” your attention wavers as you notice movement out the window. 

A distant black figure grows larger the closer it gets. Eraserhead is coming back from his afternoon patrol. He sweeps up onto the roof of a nearby building and dashes along the eaves before leaping off again. His capture weapon lassos the adjacent dormitory building and he swings in a perfect arc that vaults him upwards. The movements flow into one another naturally, without thought, nimble as he twists through the air. You can’t take your eyes off him. 

“No, you’re right. It’s definitely nothing,” Yamada quips lightly, his voice drawing you to the present. The implication behind his tone rings loud and clear and it shakes you from your reverie. 

Embarrassment sours your expression; it feels like you’ve swallowed the sun. “It’s not like that,” you insist, laughing nervously. Your gaze settles on a heart sticker Eri pasted on the desk. An old coffee stain has blurred the colour, cheap ink smeared into the wood. Your fingers come away stained pink. 

“Young love is exciting! There’s no shame in it. You can be honest with us. With me,” Yagi’s large hand comes down on your shoulder to give a reassuring pat. “I may be old but I’m not that dense. I think”. 

“You’re hardly old, Yagi-san. You’re only fifty”.

Yagi chuckles in that signature All Might fashion, a blush glowing bright on his cheekbones. “Thank you. But that is beside the point,” he says. The laughter mellows into a contemplative hum and you fidget while he watches you closely, warmly, “…It’s just, Aizawa seems a bit more alive when you’re around”. 

Yamada leans forward to rest his chin in his palms, held open like a flower in bloom, and murmurs his agreement. 

“What…do you mean exactly?” you ask. 

Yagi exhales, wringing battle worn hands in his lap. “He has been through a lot,” he begins. “Of course we all have but as I’m sure young Yamada here can attest, Aizawa shoulders more responsibility than he needs to”. 

“Lotta unnecessary blame, too,” Yamada nods. A bittersweet tone pervades the air. “Always has, ever since we were kids. Reckon that’s why he doesn’t sleep”.

“See, there’s the kind of exhaustion that usually just requires a good night’s sleep,” Yagi’s face is sallow, and his gaze flickers to Aizawa’s empty desk. “But there is also another kind that asks much more—and I see that in Aizawa. Like he’s wearing a heavy coat that became heavy bones”.

Despite the clumsy metaphor you feel his words weighing on your heart; notably shared in a way that makes you think that he, too, wore a similar heavy coat of blame. And you thought: such is grief. 

“But!” Yagi suddenly blurts, restoring his former enthusiasm. “Since you started here it’s like…” he gesticulates with his hands then, searching for the right thing to say, stalling as seemingly he does not find it. “All that is to say Aizawa has a fondness for you and I think you should go for it!”

Self conscious, you pick at the skin around your thumb. Yagi’s encouragement was appreciated. With the quintessential All Might optimism unintentionally bleeding through it almost felt like you could do anything. But your head shakes and you laugh breathlessly at the thought, “You’re actually quite a gossip, aren’t you, Yagi-san?”

Yamada’s cackle reverberates around the lounge as Yagi splutters his shock into a tissue. You pat his shoulder. Pressing your lips thin you try not to smirk. 

“What are you doing?” 

Simultaneously, the three of you freeze, voices converging the instant you three blurt, “Nothing!” 

Aizawa frowns, displeasure framed by windswept hair tousled in all directions. He loiters in the open doorway a moment longer and his scrutiny pervades the air. You tightly cross your ankles under the legs of your chair and maintain an innocent look. 

Feigning obliviousness Yagi attempts to redirect the subject, “Did anything interesting happen on patrol, Aizawa-kun?”

Ultimately, Aizawa let it go. He shut the door behind him and the tension slipped from his shoulders as he shrugged and accepted the deflection. “Nothing significant. A bit busier than usual,” he replies.  “Seems like the commercial district has finished being rebuilt”.

Your heart beats and blood rushes to the tips of your fingers—dark eyes do not leave you as Aizawa slinks past to the kitchenette, taking with him a brush of cool fresh air. Yamada ducks between the computer monitors. Mouth puckered, he begins making an exaggerated kissing face at you. Oscillating between flustered and irritated, you reach for the nearest thing and throw it. A pencil bounces off his forehead, clattering to the floor, and he yelps. 

Aizawa returns holding two nutritional jelly pouches. “I don’t doubt you deserved that,” he comments, blasé as he passes you one of the colourful packets unprompted. It takes great effort not to gawk at his fingerless gloves, the once buttery leather now weathered. 

“Wow. Where’d my best friend go?” Yamada laments. He makes a dramatic show of the betrayal, long limbs sagging across his desk. “And no jelly for me, either. For shame! What happened to brothers before lovers?” 

Twisting off the cap to the pouch with his teeth, Aizawa sucks out the gelatinous innards until the plastic flattens. A smile plays on his lips as you stifle your amusement. “Hizashi, you know I flunked English,” he deadpans. 

The voice hero deflates. He turns to wave the previously thrown pencil at you, “Here. You left this knife in my back”. 

“You’re ridiculous”. 

“Et tu, Brute?”

The interaction does nothing to ruffle Aizawa. Like water to a duck's back. He merely saunters over to his desk, discards the empty pouch in the small bin beside his chair, and scoops up a thick binder of papers.  

“And now he flees,” Yamada pouts, holding the pencil between his top lip and his nose. 

“No, I need to wash up,” he dismisses Yamada and indicates toward his prosthesis, then dryly adding, “And I’m not sticking around to listen to you recite Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar simply because I didn’t bring you a jelly pouch”.

“Aw. That’s cold, Sho”. 

You bask in their back and forth. A friendship built on open hearts and feet that bleed. They share jabs, opinions and hardships without worry because there’s unequivocal trust there. Watching them together unearths a fraction of envy; stuck between wanting someone like that at your side, to wanting it to be him. 

Aizawa leaves not long after. He casts you a sidelong glance that you can’t read. One job to another, the work is patently endless, though you can’t help but to notice that it is self imposed—being stagnant is never in the cards. 

You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Yagi clears his throat in the prolonged pause. “So. What is your blood type?” he asks with little tact, avoiding your look of betrayal. “If I had to guess, Aizawa-kun must be type B. He is quite honest and unconventional…”

Yamada cackles again. 

You put your head in your hands. This is hell. And it is largely populated by the UA heroics department.

The three day weekend couldn't come any quicker.

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From: Yamada.Hizashi@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp  Subject: Check this out! Message: 

HEEEEEY 😎

[HYPERLINK: myquirkyintrovert.jp//11-introvert-friendly-activities-perfect-for-a-first-date/] Figured you might need this. ROTFL !

(Rooting for you)

Yamada Hizashi English Department, UA High School Put Your Hands Up Radio 81.3FM QOTD: If music be the food of love, play on 🎵 

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The morning spills over your senses like a heady fog. It obscures your vision, sleep-sand still tucked into the corners of your eyes. Dust fairies dance in the spotlight cast through the room and you turn into your pillow, away from the performance. 

You’re caught in a web—linens tangled around your ankles, anchored to the bed, suffering through cottonmouth and haze. According to the time you slept plenty. According to your body, however. 

The floor is cold against your feet. You yawn, joints clicking as your limbs stretch. Meander through the typical morning routine without a second thought, or a third. Only when your face is washed and you’re significantly more awake do you wander out of your apartment.

Cushioned by a set of fluffy, foam soled slippers, you stumble into the common area, welcomed to a languid, warm atmosphere. Surprisingly, a few people are already there. Yamada is dressed in his civilian clothing, waist length hair pulled back into a braided ponytail that mimics a mohawk. Eri is seated on one of the kitchen stools, squirming as his fingers work through her hair in gentle twists, styling it to match his own.  

She’s wearing a denim overall dress dotted with embroidered cats over a long sleeved shirt, matching the subtle pattern on her white tights. Her legs kick happily under the island. A smile pulled at your mouth as you watched the homely scene. 

A familiar sleep-worn voice murmurs your name and you try to look more alert than you feel.

The smell of percolating coffee reaches your senses. You retreat from the stinging heat that brushes your knuckles as Aizawa nudges a freshly poured mug toward you. “Oh, shit. Thanks,” you mumble. The surroundings are still gossamer soft and blurred at the edges; you’re impassive when your fingers slip through the curved handle and overlap his. 

Faint, coarse hair on his knuckles. Dull nails. Rough skin. You take the mug and bring it to your face. Steam kisses each cheek, billowing as you blow across the tawny surface. Aizawa’s throat bobs. Your stare lingers over the rim longer than appropriate, dragging down his body to take in the rare casual appearance. 

“You look nice”. 

His jaw ticks, eyes fixed on the button of his loose knit cardigan as he rolls it between his thumb and finger. Black, like most of the articles in his wardrobe, but stylish. The hem falls below the hip, hung over a pair of dark slacks. It’s flattering on his frame despite being oversized.

“Contrary to popular belief I can actually dress myself,” he says. 

“Colour me surprised,” you sip the hot coffee in a poor effort to conceal your grin. Even as the remaining dregs of sleep subside you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. “Are you guys going somewhere?”

Before he can respond Eri is bounding over. She crashes into your legs, chin above your knees as she looks up and chimes, “Good morning!”

“Good morning sweetheart,” you say, holding your hot coffee out to the side. Eri’s eyes squint with the force of her smile and sunlight pools through tall standing windows, highlighting the glittery clips in her faux mohawk braid. “Your hair looks beautiful”.

“Thank you,” she delicately pats the top of her head. “I wanted it to look pretty today. We’re going to the com-mer-cial dis…”

“District?”

“District,” she nods excitedly. “Have you ever been to a district? Deku said there are lots of fun things for us to do. Will you come with us?” Then looking to her father for permission, she clutches her dress and asks, “Please?”

You blink. The coffee mug begins to sting the skin of your palms. “We can always use an extra chaperone,” Aizawa offers slowly, eyes sliding over you from head to toe, making you all too aware of the ratty old pyjamas you’re still wearing. “You can accompany us if you want to”.

The next words leave you in an instant.  “Do you want me to?” you asked. They’re clumsy and your voice fractures, bringing with it a flood of warm embarrassment. “Sorry. I think—I’m still half asleep”. 

Shouta suddenly appears to have swallowed a lemon. 

“Of course he wants you to,” Yamada strides over. The absentminded tapping of his phone’s keyboard echoes amidst the awkwardness. A smarmy grin plays on his lips and he tucks his chin to peer at Eri over the rim of his yellow tinted glasses, “Ain’t that right, Eri-chan?”

Eri nods insistently. Aizawa settles his hand atop her crown, careful not to disturb the braid, and stops the bobble head movement. “I don’t need you to speak for me,” He sighs, and the sound is fond more than anything else. “We’re meeting the students by the bus in thirty minutes,” He meets your gaze. A red-gold hue catches the light against the dark limbal ring around his iris. “You should come”.

Your chest flutters and you put his tone down to imagination. “I’d love to,” you reply, patting down your pyjama shirt. “Let me just get ready”. 

Quiet bickering follows you upstairs. You rummage through your wardrobe at a frenetic pace. There’s really no time to spare to worry about what you should wear. Once dressed you cram a water bottle, a lightweight fleece, sun protection, recovery gummies—

You pause, eyeing the unnecessary bulk in your rucksack. No doubt the kids were old enough to bring their own bags. Your tongue smooths over the teeth marks inside your cheek and you set the thought aside. No harm in being prepared. 

The clock on your phone screen blinks. Five minutes to go. You slip it into your pocket and hurry out the door, bag strap drawn over your shoulder. Kurose looks up from the couch as you stumble through the common area, navy hair flattened to one side, a few stray golden strands upright and reminding you of an antenna. 

“Hi Kurose-san,” you huff, jogging past and giving a quick wave. “Bye Kurose-san”. 

“Have fun out there,” they cheered. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“That really doesn’t narrow it down by much,” you call back from the genkan, slipping into your shoes. Laughter bleeds through at the faux wounded look Kurose sends your way before you leave. 

The crisp morning air bloats your lungs on a deep inhale. Not a cloud to be seen, the sky a pleasant blue canvas. You descend the steps and follow the path toward the staff car park. Ushered into a single file line, a modest flock of hero students wait beside the minibus. You can’t help noticing how much younger they seem without their uniforms. 

Eri locks onto you instantaneously. Her lips move, and you think she must’ve called for you, but her voice was too small. Still it beckons the attention of the teenagers around her. One by one they shout your name, their clamouring coming together in an ill practised chorus.

Yamada ducks out from the minibus. “Yeaaah!” he beams, leaning against the folded door. “Right on time, my friend. We were just discussing the buddy system”. 

That reminder elicits a quiet groan from the class. Yamada laughs good naturedly, “I know, I know. But safety comes first, kiddos. Have you picked who you’re stuck with today?”

There are various nods and shrugs. Numerous heads turn to Bakugo, including both Midoriya and Todoroki, and he appears indubitably unimpressed that he’s spoiled for choice. Yamada’s focus lands on Eri. “What about you, mini me?” he pokes at the swell of her cheek. “Gonna be my buddy today?” 

Her anxious eyes flicker between you and him. You’re admittedly flattered that she’s torn. But the doubt is short lived, decided by an inconspicuous wink from Yamada. A toothy grin brightens her face. “Okay,” Eri chirps, holding out her hand for him to take. 

“We get to be passenger princesses today,” the voice hero whispers excitedly. You do well to restrain the coo building in your throat as his palm dwarfs her fist and her lips form an ‘o’. 

Suitably organised, the kids begin to climb onto the bus in their pairs. Iida and Todoroki sit in the spaces in front of Shinsou and Bakugo. There’s a soft pout to Midoriya’s lip but he happily joins Kouda, fingers moving in graceless strokes as they sign to one another. Yaoyorozu joins Jirou, taking the window seat. Tokoyami listens along to Kaminari’s aimless rambling; Sero, Mina and Kirishima behind them at the very back. 

Aizawa is already aboard the bus discussing safety policy, capture weapon draped around his shoulders. He pauses conversation with the driver and smiles as Yamada ushers Eri into seats positioned at the very front. Languid, his focus slides to you, the very last to enter. Heartbeat quickening. There’s something there, you feel it existing on the fringes. 

“Enough. Settle down,” he says, voice rough and commanding authority. The commotion dwindles. You nod before shuffling through the aisle to the remaining spaces. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that this trip is a privilege. I am trusting you to behave, follow instructions and stick together. Understood?”

“Yes, Sensei”. 

“Do you all have your phone notifications on?”

Yamada throws up a peace sign and jumps in, “Yes, Sensei”. 

Aizawa rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. With the polite incline of his head to the driver the bus doors whirred on their hinges and began to shut. He tucks a curtain of hair behind his ear, adding, “Any questions before we leave?” 

Shinsou clears his throat. His elbows rest on the back of Midoriya’s chair. He lazily points towards Aizawa and drawls, “Does Aizawa-sensei have a buddy?” 

You immediately become conscious of a tangible weight. Their stares fall to you, his included. Dark eyes like flint to your very core. You grin and bear it—grimace through the tension and hope his sharp intellect does not extend to 

Aizawa pressed his lips thin, “Any actual questions?” 

The figures in your periphery all shake their heads, biting back amusement in the face of their teachers' chagrin. The pressure does not dissipate when Aizawa takes the spot next to you, nor when the engine sputters to life and the looming barrier bordering the school entrance lifts to allow passage. 

The destination isn’t far. A fifteen minute drive at best. Still, as the journey progresses the air grows notably sombre. While much of the city has been restored, ghosts will remain. Skeletons of buildings sit on the landscape. Once a sprawling metropolis now made a uneven scar tissue terrain. 

That twinge of concern has you looking over your shoulder and scanning the bus in a less than subtle way. Everyone seems fine. Kaminari waves when you catch his eye. The only student that gives you pause is Bakugo, who has taken to staring hard out the window, discomfort etched into his features.

Or perhaps it’s your overactive imagination. The frown smooths into contentment and you realise he’s sharing a split earphone jack with Shinsou—maybe it was a song he didn’t like. 

You try to shake off the trepidation hanging over your mood. Aizawa notices but doesn’t pry and you find yourself grateful. 

Your concerns become minor the moment the minibus pulls into the commercial district. Standing prominent against the skyline, the building is sun drenched and unsettlingly clean. Inside, light pours through the high domed ceiling and reflects on the shiny tiled floor. There are three upper levels visible on spiralled balconies, each dedicated to different departments. 

Ground level is rather miscellaneous. Record stores, hobby crafts, tech booths and things of the like. Soothing music plays in the background, gentle melodic notes. Being somewhere that brought a sense of normalcy boosted the students morale. You’re warmed by contagious excitement—Aizawa too, lacking his usual force and a smile in his tone as he tells them. “Remember, you’re not to leave this building. If something happens you contact one of us”. 

They split off in opposite directions with the promise to meet at the food court in two hours. Eri and Yamada linger a few minutes longer. She tugs at her fathers sleeve and when crouched to her height she plants a short kiss on his stubbled cheek. 

You are then gifted a sparkly clip for keepsake, as though she were giving part of herself to take with you. “Thank you sweetheart,” touched, you attach it to your bag strap. “I’ll keep it safe”.

Satisfied, Eri thrusts her hand up for Yamada to take, and she comically leads him to march in the direction of a children’s store. The crowds are unexpectedly thin. Though you supposed a majority of the general public did not yet have the confidence nor the funds to make leisure trips to the mall. You’re only thankful they are respectfully giving your class a wide berth. 

Aizawa puffs an indignant breath, “…I think we’ve finally been set up”. 

Fondness surges deep in your chest and you bite back a grin. There’s urgency to it that you can’t satisfy. “Glad I’m not imagining things,” you wet your lips, moving to match his stride. “Does it not bother you?” 

“Which part?” he asks. He’s looking anywhere but you. There’s a playful lilt in his tone that equally settles and ignites your nerves. You would search his face for answers if the lower half were not obscured by his scarf. 

“The ‘clearly trying to get us to date’ part”. 

“There are worse people to be lumped with”. 

Aizawa’s profession rarely left time for indulgence. You’ve heard him discuss it before. He never thought it sensible to involve another person in what he had presupposed would be a tumultuous relationship. For that reason, you wonder if he has much experience in romance at all.

“Ever the charmer, Aizawa”. 

“Shouta,” he says. You blink, narrowly caught in a stupor. The erasure hero sinks to burrow deeper into his capture weapon. Warmth rises to the tips of his ears in spite of his efforts. “Just call me Shouta”. 

Very eloquently, your response is, “Oh”. 

“Or don’t,” he grunted. 

There’s a wealth of unspoken confessions behind a single name. Your heart feels full, stuttering in a way it hasn’t in a long while. “So. What should I tell my friends?” you pick up speed, giddiness spurring your pace and taking you a few steps ahead. “‘This is Shouta. We work together. He has twenty-something kids and our first date was spent patrolling the Musutafu mall’?”

“I have one kid—” Shouta falters, though fleeting, as if he hadn’t realised he’d begun to walk the perimeter. He arches an unimpressed brow, any scorn decidedly betrayed by the mirth in his eyes. “Did you have somewhere in mind?”

An hour rolls into another. You meander various stores together, occasionally bumping into the students and ignoring their suggestive looks. He buys some things for Eri—or so he claims, now in possession of three different cat gel pens—and you pick out new books to keep in your classroom. 

And in the grand scheme of things it’s a paltry affair. You’re looking around a newly built mall with a man you’ve known for close to two months. Simple, comfortable, as most things are with Shouta; yet it feels like a path you’ve walked more times than you can count. Fastened by mattress stitch seams, shoulder to shoulder, you share conversation written in passing glances, so many possibilities etched into a handsome crooked smirk—

Three message alerts come loud and in quick succession. That alone is enough to shatter the atmosphere. They feel frantic, and Shouta’s expression is explanatory enough. 

“It’s Shinsou. Something happened with Bakugo,” he mutters. In one fell swoop he is dashing ahead and you are not long behind. He turns a corner. Your kids are bunched together, seemingly bickering and distraught. Midoriya’s frantic voice can be heard above them all. Civilians have parted, tucking themselves against walls and waiting at security’s instruction. You’re comforted by the fact that they are not rushing out in droves. 

Bakugo is absent. The air smells like smoke but there’s no notable damage. Shouta flashes his hero license and steps into the shoes of a guardian so naturally you wonder if he ever takes them off. The officers standing nearby offer sympathetic smiles, allowing you through, too, after seeing your UA badge. 

While Shinsou is relaying what happened to Shouta you approach the others. A chill spikes the air, colder as the distance lessens, and you realise it must be Todoroki’s quirk. He’s standing at Midoriya’s side, exhaling visible breaths, laying a cold hand on his friend's neck to allay the panic. 

“Hey guys,” you greet gently. “Aizawa-Sensei is just clearing things with Shinsou. Do you know what happened?”

Midoriya snaps to attention, “Sensei—Kacchan, he’s—!”

Kaminari closes in, careful as he drapes his arm across Midoriya’s back. “It’s alright, man,” he murmurs. Todoroki nods. There’s a helplessness in his expression. “Kacchan’s okay. He just needed to blow off some steam. Or smoke, I guess”. 

A repetitive sound loops above your heads. You realise then that there’s a jumbo multi screen hovering in the centre of the ceiling. Clips depicting Gigatomanchia's rampage fade one into a title card, the words ‘twenty city rampage’ highlighted across a sepia backdrop. Your stomach churns at the sight, inhaling sharp between your teeth. 

“It’s that new bullshit documentary,” Jirou interjects. She fiddles anxiously with the jack hung from her earlobe. “They—uh. There were pictures of…”

“I understand. Thank you, Jirou,” you say. They needn’t relive it again—but they had. They will. Bakugo simply raised his head and saw his worst experiences pilfered for television. 

You exhale, taking with it the abrupt anger and frustration. They’re looking to you for reassurance. “I promise we’re going to find Bakugo,” you tell them. “I’m sorry that any of you had to see those images again. Like Kaminari said, I imagine he got overwhelmed and needed some space”. 

Midoriya swallows thickly and he nods. The motion is unsettlingly lifeless. His blank stare passes over your shoulder, and a silhouette of bodyheat settles behind you. 

“Shinsou explained everything,” Aizawa says. His presence visibly untangles the knots in their posture. “Security informed me Bakugo is still in the building. I need you all to wait here for Yamada-sensei—” he holds his hands out in a placating gesture as Todoroki begins to interrupt “—you will wait here while we look for him”. 

“I’ll start heading that way,” you point where the wide walkway narrows towards the southern exit and hard turns left, not wanting to remain still for longer than necessary. Aizawa regards you with a meaningful look and nods. 

You take off. The air retains a faint smokey smell. It grows thicker, more prominent as you pass the various hero merch stores, meeting the eyes of a Edgeshot cardboard cutout. Acrid nausea rises unforgiving in your stomach. 

It guides you to a fire door slightly ajar. Through the door is a dreary stairwell, presumably to be used by customers on the upper floors during an emergency. Bakugo’s hunched figure can be seen through the crack. He’s sitting on one of the steps, head cradled in crossed arms. 

You quickly text Shouta to let him know, and ask that he give you two a little space. You’re hardly expecting him to talk. But where Aizawa-sensei goes his ducklings will follow, and you have a feeling Bakugo is not yet in the mindset for company. 

The door creaks on its hinges as you enter. “Leave me alone,” the Bakugo shaped lump growled. An emotional hurricane in the body of a boy. Your throat swells. It threatens to drag you in. You can feel the sharp winds clipping at your resolve as you lower to sit on the step beside him and he bristles, furiously spitting, “I said fuck off!” 

Another, someone more volatile and disciplinarian, could be tempted to jump in. A person such as yourself, lenient and with less experience, might find it easier to flee; to let the gale propograte northward and weaken on its own. Before being employed at UA your students had always been older, plausibly wiser—but, you suppose, children still. You are honest enough to inwardly admit that you don’t know how to make this better. But you are determined to try. 

So you see your body relax and let your voice flow out calmly, “I’m not going anywhere”. 

Bakugo laughs humorlessly and snaps, “What, you gonna lecture me now?” His hands are wrung tight to stop the tremors. Blood surfaces beneath the pressure and seeps into his nail beds. “Gonna tell me some bullshit about how heroism isn’t defined by success and things will get better if I stick it out?” 

“No. I didn’t come here to lecture you,” you say. He eyes you with suspicion. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. We can sit here as long as you need”. 

What follows is a long, thick silence. The lives of people can be heard muffled through the stairwell walls. Unawares, and in a way, unintentionally mocking. Bakugo’s laboured gasps toll louder in your ears. You don’t speak. You monitor the rise and fall of his chest, gradually slowing until the defensive vitriol clears away. 

“I hate losing control like—” Bakugo’s expression twisted uncomfortably then, as though the confession tasted bitter, and you patiently held your breath. "Fuck. How can I call myself a hero when…" his voice loses strength, reminiscent of an echo. 

He rubs harshly at the spot where his heart rests. You take the young hero by the wrist. You envelop his split knuckles wearing a thin smile, admittedly strained, and squeeze around those shaking fingers while the moment simmers, a gentility not in the absence of violence, but despite it all. 

Bakugo blinks up at you. The movement knocks a tear free, careening down the side of a flushed cheek. The sight lodges something in your throat, thick and hard to swallow; all the words you don’t know how to say. You would never understand what it means to reside in his body—to think of yourself as the scene of a crime. 

Family members, strangers, had visited his hospital room to mournfully listen to that pulse one last time, and Bakugo told them to come by whenever as though he were a living effigy of their lost son. You saw the disconnect he felt from himself. That lifelong debate of what makes a person a person. 

He’s just a kid. 

“Bet you’ve heard hundreds of ‘I’m sorry’s’ at this point, huh?” you murmur. Bakugo snorts. 

“Try thousands,” he rasps. Clicks his tongue to his teeth to save face. “Never know what they’re really apologising for. Rubs me the wrong way”. 

And after being witness to how Bakugo’s mind works you understand what that means. Atleast, you think you might. Teenagers hold enough shame without the weight of another person's life in their arms. You only imagine he hears their regret, guilt, disappointment—hears ‘sorry it was you, kid’ and ‘sorry it wasn’t him’. 

“It’s okay to be angry, you know,” you vowed solemnly. “There’s so much pressure to channel what happened to you into something positive. To make it your strength. And maybe you will, eventually. But you’re allowed to step back and say ‘I went through something scary and traumatic and that changed me forever’”. 

Bakugo grunts. He scrubs under his nose with the back of his hand. “Don’t need you to tell me that,” he says, tone lighter than before. It sounds a lot like ‘thank you’. 

“I’m glad,” you nudge his side and return your hands to your lap. “In that case we should talk about something else”. 

“Like what?” 

“Your assignment,” Bakugo snorts, rolling his eyes. “Hey. I’m serious. Most of the others have come to me with their topics but yours is still a mystery”. 

“‘Cause those losers need help and I don’t,” he says. There’s no malice in it. His cadence is lighter, the burden he carries now far more loose fitting. You watch him pick at the rips in his jeans. “…Mine’s about mythological figures. Some cult wackos out there believe the old Gods had quirks. Hence the animal heads and shit”. 

“That’s a brilliant choice, Bakugo,” his answer brings a sincere smile to your lips. “Gives you a lot more to explore in your discussion. I can’t wait to read it”.

The muscles in Bakugo’s face twitch. Mouth deliberately downturned. A flustered yet pleased blush paints the tips of his ears and the simple praise breathes him to life like a technicolour Oz. It eases the anxiety simmering under your skin. You prompt him to talk further, pleasantly surprised to find that his curiosity extends further than Japan’s own mythology. 

Eventually you need to update Shouta again. Leaving it too long would only worry him further. Bakugo’s eyes track your thumbs movement across the keyboard as you type. “Are you texting Eyebags?” 

“I’m texting Aizawa-sensei,” you correct blithely as a text bubble appears on the bottom left of the screen. “I thought Shinsou was ‘Eyebags’”. 

“They’re interchangeable,” he rebuts. You huff a laugh, screen going dark with a quiet click. Bakugo’s reflection looks back at you where he’s peeking over your shoulder. 

“You two a thing or somethin’?” he asks, not even attempting to hide his interest. 

“We aren’t ‘a thing’,” your fingers form quotation marks around the words. And it’s true. You aren’t. Yet. “I don’t know why you all came to that conclusion”. 

“Probably ‘cause you look at him all googly eyed. And he always shares that shitty jelly with you. Basically his alternative to a proposal,” he smirked. Shouta is still typing—

Your phone vibrates. The message comes through.

—A thumbs up emoji. 

Bakugo laughs. His eyes crinkle. A crease deepens on the bridge of his nose. The brief flash of a toothy grin. No longer a hero-too-soon on two tired feet but instead a teenage boy, poking light fun at his teacher. 

“The hell. He texts like my old man”.

You hum in amusement. “Some people do better face to face,” the ‘like you’ remains unspoken. Shadows pleat across the stairwell as clouds shift, disturbing the dim stream of light. You become conscious of the hour. And it seems so does he. 

“How do you feel about heading back?” 

Bakugo’s stare fixed itself onto his hands. You notice the crescent shaped marks, the skin around his nails fraying, picking at his body like a seam. “I can go back,” he grunts. 

“You can, but do you want to?” you ask, blindly feeling up the strap drawn over your shoulder. The small, glittery claw clip is still there. “Humour me for a sec,” you unclip it and Bakugo frowns as you proffer it to him, rolling in the centre of your palm. “Let it bite you”. 

“Let it bite me?” he repeats dryly. 

“Clip it around your fingers or pinch your hand with it—yeah, like that,” you grin as he blindly follows the instruction. The little claw clip bites into a swathe of the skin from the back of his hand. “Better, right?” 

Lip jutted into a pout, Bakugo eyes the clip dubiously; no longer focused on the anxiety, and you take it as a big win. “I guess. Thanks Sensei,” you tense in surprise as he gets to his feet, dusting off his jeans. “I want to go back,” he says, nothing short of a demand. 

There’s certainly no love lost between you and the cold step under your thighs. You stretch as you stand, shucking the backpack higher up your shoulder. “Alright. Then let’s get you back”. 

Bakugo doesn’t protest when you remain at his side, keeping pace. His finger and thumb work at the clips hinge while he walks, absentmindedly opening, closing, running the teeth over his knuckles. You’re sure Eri would gladly let him keep it. 

Tears are all dried up which Bakugo appears grateful for. The class doesn't immediately rush him, though you can see that they want to. Rather they wait for him to come to them, parting like arms and coaxing him into the centre. 

You branch off to where Shouta is standing watch with Yamada. Eri stands behind his leg, clutching at his pant leg. Her eyes are glassy and wide as she looks up at you. “Bakugo is alright now,” you tell them. “But you know what?”

Eri instinctively pushes up onto the balls of her feet, as though climbing higher to hear a big secret. Lowered into a conspiratorial hush, you say, “I bet he would feel even better if you gave him a hug”.

Shouta’s hand crowns her head. He carefully pats the side of her braid, giving silent permission. Expression tight in a determined pinch Eri ducks between his legs and toddles toward the group. 

“He really doin’ okay?” Yamada quietly asked. 

You murmur an affirmative, shifting in place as you turn to watch the scene unfold. Eri pats Bakugo’s hip. He seems vaguely nervous as he rests on his haunches and allows her to tangle herself around him. 

Shouta’s knuckles knock your own. His fingers twitch, unfurling as though to reach out and then thinking better of it. “Do you think I should talk to him?” 

When you look at him he’s already looking right back. Eyes soft like the sun had made them warm. You mind the small gap and stretch your pinky, brushing the outer curve of his palm and retracting again. “Bakugo respects you. He feels safe with you,” you assure him. “I think it’d be good if you talked”.

“Maybe some extra sessions with Hound Dog, too,” Yamada adds. Your heart staggers, having near forgotten he was there. “For all of them”. 

“I’ll see if he can do another class session during their independent study period,” Shouta says, attention returning to Eri’s antics—she’s now walking Bakugo over, hand in hand, subsequently bringing the other students with her. 

Shouta exhales, clicking his neck. There’s a finality to it. You see the internal headcount he does in their approach, and how the preparation to jump back into action recedes at the confirmation that all his kids are present. 

“We’ve got two options now,” he announces. “I’m sure none of us want to stick around longer than we need to. So either we go up to the food court and eat, or we can head back to campus”. 

Mutterings break out amongst the group. Iida diligently attempts to organise a sensible vote and asks for a show of hands, but his effort is squashed the instant that Kaminari suggests WcDonalds. 

Eri keeps hold of Bakugo's hand the entire way back, and insists on sitting with him. Yamada switches buddy’s without complaint, wiggling himself into the window seat beside Shinsou, happy to pull out his headphones and collect music suggestions from his beloved students. 

Shouta remains at your side. You hear unfettered laughter and think you might be close to tears—the tender kind. Softly, you mumble, “I’m glad I took this job”.  

He exhales slowly, and the loss of tension has him leaning into you ever so slightly. Your shoulders touch. “Me too,” he says. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp   To: Principal.Nedzu@UAedu.jp  Cc: Inui.Ryo@UAedu.jp; Aizawa.Shouta@UAedu.jp Subject: Incident report [High importance] Message: 

Good evening,

Attached is my account of the incident that occurred at Musutafu Shopping District on Saturday, [x] September 11:34am. 

Hound Dog and I have also brainstormed a few suggested classroom additions for students coping with anxiety. 

Take care!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sleeplessness is an open invitation to overthinking. 

Everyone has since retired to their apartments and it is long past the hour for Eri to be in bed. Time slips through your fingers. You count the dust bunnies behind your eyes but nothing works. 

Clarity shrikes through you with small cuts. The day wears on your body like a bruise that you cannot ignore now the adrenaline has subsided. You’re processing the fleeting touches, the purposeful looks, the whiplash of panic, the heartache that comes with being helpless—

Your mind is a spinning top with no hands to stop it, not even the clocks. Though it falters at a single thought passing overhead.

There is one man you can trust to be awake at this hour. 

You kick off the sheets, unsteady as you nudge each foot into the wrong slipper. The dormitory is cast in shadow. Your eyes are slow to adjust, shapes and lines sharpening around you. 

Shouta is seated at the kitchen island, dark space doused in the low lighting from the stovetop hood, warm across the contours of his face. Papers are laid out before him in organised piles. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” 

A pen spins around his thumb. He peeks through dark hair curtaining his vision and hums. Your gait is heavy, like wading through waist high water. The quiet clink of melting ice draws your attention to his glass. “I didn’t take you for a gin and tonic kinda guy,” you murmur, leaning your elbows onto the counter. “Regular old sake, maybe”.

The corner of his mouth twitches and he takes a pointed swig of his drink. He smacks his lips. “Gin and tonic keeps me awake,” he explains dryly, nudging the glass in your direction. You fold to his soft suggestion and bring it to your nose. The smell alone is enough to make you shiver. 

Shouta laughs at your grimace. At that point you sense in your gut that maybe, maybe you should have stayed in bed. You’re warm, pleasantly sleepy, and your tongue feels dangerously loose. 

Seeking distraction, your gaze drops to the papers stacked before him. You set down the gin, condemnation wet around your fingers, and lean in for a closer look. The grade written at the top is worryingly low. “That’s… not looking so good,” you prompted. 

“This is Todoroki’s,” Shouta clarifies, brow pinched. He gives an empathetic nod to your wide eyed stare. From reading their files you knew Todoroki consistently ranked top five in class A.  “It’s not just him. They’re all struggling in different areas. And I was never expecting things to go back to normal but it’s…” 

“You’re doing what you can,” you say. 

Shouta clicks his tongue, “But is that enough?” 

You cover his hand without thought, thumb outlining the rough dips and peaks of his knuckles as you insist, “Yes. I believe it’s enough”. Somewhere in the spaces between seconds Shouta overturns his wrist, and your fingers are intertwined, and you’re squeezing until your palms kiss. 

You think of that heavy coat Yagi referenced. Of a man wearing his failures as self imposed repentance. “You aren’t the only one here helping them. We’re going to get them across this bridge, and then the next, and the next—” Shouta turns a cheek to hide his amusement as your rambling becomes more exaggerated. 

“You’ll never be rid of them. Not even after they graduate”. You smile softly, “The kids are gonna be alright, Aizawa”. 

Dark eyes smile back, “…You did good today, you know”.

Hundreds of butterflies hatch inside your stomach. “I—I did?”

He huffs at that, wetting his lips. “You’re impossible”.

Something unspoken weaves into the atmosphere—the attraction between you becomes a tangible thread before either of you speak another word. He’s much closer. Every movement he has made you’ve mirrored without meaning to. 

“Impossible?” you repeat, hushed.

He pitches his voice low and says, “I thought I told you to call me Shouta”. 

At what point had you settled into the cradle of his thighs? Your breath catches. Two hands are on your hips, soft flesh yielding under his thumbs as they massage shapes from memory. You clutch at broad shoulders and exhale, settling into the hold and surrendering yourself.

“Shouta,” you echo, charmingly dumbfounded. 

Gentle, Shouta takes your chin and turns you toward him. A large, rough palm cups your cheek. He brings your forehead against his, close enough to hear his breath falter. The air is clammy. Taut, primed to break with another tilt of your head, and he must sense it. There’s trepidation—hesitance to handle something as tender as this when the things he knows best are animosity and bloodshed.

You offer mercy in taking the lead. Your hands slip from his shoulders to his jaw. Shouta lets himself be guided into your magnetism, a contented hum rippling in his throat like the water of a wellspring. 

He kisses you deeply and it feels four weeks too late. It feels like muscle memory. It feels like something you’ve done a thousand times over. Those hands circle around your waist, splayed at the lower back, heat radiating through your shirt. Lips part at the light swipe of his tongue. You taste the faint notes of citrus and juniper, coaxing him into your mouth, swallowing a soft groan. 

Heat flashes through you. Familiar want is coiling low in your belly, so stark that you shake with it. Hands wander. Lips too. Shouta kisses across your cheeks, nipping the delicate line of your jaw. Stubble tickles your throat. He mouths at your pulse and pulls you impossibly close, a desperate edge to it as though he were making up for all the times he wanted to but couldn’t. He outlines a topographical map of your figure, fingers walking the bumps, curves and dimples, tentatively slipping up your shirt to reach your soft stomach. 

The hair along your arms stands on end. Fingertips climb higher toward your chest, and a heart that threatens to leap right out through your ribs. “Aizawa, we can’t—”

“Shouta,” he mutters, continuing his path down your collar. You shudder and his fingers flex, sensing the aftershocks of his touch. 

“Shouta,” you amend breathlessly. “We can’t have sex in the common area”. 

A rare clemency follows. Shouta stops, and your hands come to thread through his hair. Dull stubble tickles the dip of your collarbone. You feel his lips stretch thin into a smirk. 

He leans back to look up and doesn’t take his eyes off you. Half lidded and soft, wrapping you in a gauzy roseate veil that hems the whole world pink. Something about the surety of his desire stunned you. To be wanted by a man who always seemed above such things—it makes your chest pound and your face warm, exhilaration spreading to the very tips of your fingers, restless with the urge to touch him. 

“Who said anything about sex?” he asks, tenor low and deeply amused. It seems any mercy from him ended there. 

“So now you can play dumb?” you mumble, an indignant exhale puffing through your nose. You feel him twitch, heat seeping through the thin fabric. “As if you were going to stop there”.

Shouta merely gives you a crooked grin. The scar tissue around his eye wrinkles. You find him unfairly, preternaturally handsome. You like him so much you’re dizzy with it. 

All at once you are torn apart. Shouta has pushed you into the adjacent seat and turned back to his papers. An ephemeral dread rushes through you—immediately washed away by the sound of a door opening. Two familiar voices follow. 

“I bet he’s somewhere down here,” Yagi whispers. He turns the corner into the kitchen, awkwardly bent to hold a small hand. Swimming in her sleep shirt, Eri shuffled in beside him barefoot and rubbing the sleep from her eye. 

“Look, see. And even…” Yagi’s eyes widened as he spoke your name. They flickered over your dishevelled state and then to Shouta, who is equally unkempt. Luckily for him that is nothing suspicious. You, however—

“I’m here Eri-bug,” Shouta says. His clothes have been smoothed out, hair tucked back over his ears, expression soft and unruffled as he crouched to her height. She stops short of him, laying her palm over his outstretched hand. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” he quietly asks. Eri shifts in place and nods. You look away from their vulnerable moment with instantaneous regret. Yagi meets your gaze, freezing mid step as he backs out, brows arched high on his forehead. There’s a slight blush around his ears. You grimace. He absolutely knows. 

Something small clutches at your shirt sleeve and tugs. The yellow ochre of light dances in Eri’s big red eyes as she studies you from the security of her father’s arms. “Hi there Eri,” you murmur gently. “Are you okay?” 

Her grip doesn’t loosen. She blinks long and slow, “Did you have a bad dream too?” 

Shouta adjusts her on his hip but says nothing. Behind the nonchalant veil lies fond amusement and warmth. “…Not a bad dream,” you tell her. “I couldn’t sleep because I was worrying a lot. But I’m feeling better now”.

A sleepy smile stretches across her lips. Eri is seemingly satisfied by your answer but not by the distance. Without ceremony she leans away from her father’s embrace into your own. You make a short noise of surprise as she wraps her legs around your middle. 

The weight is oddly comforting. You run a hand down her back, “Eri…?” 

“Bed now,” she slurs, rubbing the swell of her cheek against your shoulder. “Sleep safe”.

Shouta moves closer. There’s something in his gaze that makes your throat dry. You’re not sure what he’s seeing. What it is he has been seeing in you all this time—

“You heard her,” he pressed a kiss to Eri’s hair, then turned to kiss your temple. He lingers, and each word leaves another. “Let’s go to bed. We’re alright now”. 

—You can only assume, like for you, it is everything. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

From: Principal.Nedzu@UAedu.jp  To: QScience.teacher@UAedu.jp Subject: [High importance] Message:  Good morning!

I heard the news and thought it important that you’re reminded of UA’s relationship policies:

There are none! Ha ha! Did you panic?

Much happiness to you both. It is always a pleasure to see love blossom.

Kind regards,

Nedzu Principal of UA High School  〒123-4567 Ōikuyō, Shizuoka, Musutafu.  Go Beyond, Plus Ultra!

[moved2usagiiboo]

Daydreaming

Def; Daydreaming is the stream of consciousness that detaches from current, external tasks when attention drifts to a more personal and internal direction. 

Synonyms; Trance, fantasy, Hallucination

Chifuyu x fem!reader

Minors DNI, thank you.

You were stunning, enticing, gorgeous. You were a angel sent down from heaven with the job of blessing young men's hearts. You shined bright like the rays on a sunny day.

You were his everything and yet you weren't his. As a matter of fact, he barely knew anything about you but you have him wrapped around your delicate finger. He was whipped.

Chifuyu met you one day, when he had been tasked with a mid-day coffee run for him and his co-worker. He walked into the café, the smell of coffee and pastries engulfed his noise, it was a small cat café not too far from where he worked. Nothing more than a five minute walk, Chifuyu heard cats meow and purred as they rubbed against his pants.

He bent down rubbing the head of the nearest cat to him, he lifted the cat up cradling it as he walked towards the menu.

"Hi! Welcome to Neko-Sama, what can I get for you today." You beamed at him from behind the counter with the softest smile. Your voice rung in his ears like a soft melody, your smile made heat rush to his face in an instant.

You had your hair in pigtails with pink and white cat ears, and a frilly maid costume draped over your body. You shuffled your body feeling Chifuyu's eyes look you up and down eyeing your attire.

You were adorable.

You stared at the man with cat like eyes, you catched your eyes with his before turning away and giving an awkward cough to clear the air.

"Wow, Tuba doesn't really like anybody..." You drifted off, "Much less let people hold her, you must be a great guy!"

"Tuba?" He questioned earning a small meow from the ginger cat that was in his arms nuzzling his head on his arm. "O-Oh! Well, I do work with animals, that's probably why." He chuckles softly petting the cat.

"That's amazing, I got this job here to work with animals. I adore cats, they're just so cute." You practically squealed, "Sorry! M'rambling" You looked down with a slight your ears slightly red from embarrassment.

The only thing that ran through Chifuyu's head was how adorable you were. Would it be weird if he asked for your number? You both just met, but he can't help but want to know more about you.

"N-No, no, not at all. Honestly, I thought it was cute..." He says the last part ever so softly, tightening his grip on the cat due to nervousness. The cat bites Chifuyu's hand in response jumping out of his arms, "Oh.. Guess I pissed him off." You both laughed at the cat as you watched him lick himself in spite.

For a split second you both lock eyes, you turn your head down to the iPad on the counter before beaming a smile at him.

"So! What can I get for you today?"

Ever since then Chifuyu has found reasons to make his way to the café. His co-worker caught onto him leaving work to bring back coffee and various snacks, one day he asked him about it.

"I like the coffee." He plainly replied, he would repeat this phrase over and over not only to those who asked about his constant ventures to the café but to convince himself that it wasn't because he wanted to hear your voice and see your face.

Totally not because he hopes that his constant visits would bring upon something. Something more than small talk as you prepared his drink, he convinced himself that he didn't want to be the reason you smile everyday.

You weren't running through his mind, he couldn't be in love with a girl be barely knows.

But the way you blush when he gives you small compliments, it's just too cute to ignore.

Over the course of a few months you and the man got closer, you learn his name and he yours. You were both around the same age, 23, you still being in college working towards your degree and him owning a animal shop.

One day, on a cold winter evening Chifuyu found himself at the café once again. So far he has been to Neko-Sama almost everyday. Naturally, being the animal person he is, he has created a bond with the cats there. Especially Tuna.

Tuna meows the loudest whenever Chifuyu is in the establishment, that's when you begin to prepare his drink. His order changes with the season, as any good barista does, you remember his orders for each season.

Being that it's winter you prepare his drink, a medium peppermint hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. You found it cute how a grown man would order such a cute drink.

"Good evening Chifuyu-san." You smiled placing his drink at his regular table. He takes off his coat setting it down on the seat next to him.

"I told you to drop the formalities, we're the same age Y/n." He sighs, softly thanking you for preparing his drink. He blows the steam away before taking a sip.

"I can't help it, you just seem so much older " You giggle before sitting next to him on the booth couch.

"Should I call you Fuyu' from now on?" You tapped your chin with a hum pretending to think.

"Do what you want, dummy Y/n." He mutters, hoping you're unaware of the burn on the tip of his ears.

Tuna jumped his way onto the seat laying on Chifuyu's coat, his purrs nothing more than a background sound as you and Chifuyu indulge in a conversation.

"And look at this, the new cat is so playful," Chifuyu chuckles pulling his phone out, "Look, she basically destroyed this toy we gave her." He shows you pictures of the cat along with the aftermath of her playtime. You giggle as he swiped through his phone.

This wasn't your fault. You could barely see the screen because of the glare from the lights, you shift your body closer to him. Chifuyu freezes as he feels your clothed breasts push up against him as you stare at his screen unaware of your actions.

"You okay?" You ask staring at his face, cupping it with your hands. His whole body locked up at your touch, his face was bright red with sweat heading down the side of his temple. "You're burning up!" You half screen putting the back of your hand on his forehead, "Are you sick?" You frantically ask while gripping the man's face.

"M'fine.. Just" He trails off, looking at your glistening lips, "Dizzy...."

"Fuyu, you idiot. You need to go home when you don't feel well..." You sighed, "Come on let me walk you home, my shift is over anyways."

Chifuyu waited outside feeling dizzy off of your touch, his head throbbed and his heart pounded. Maybe he was sick.

"Sorry it took so long, Tuna didn't want to go in his cage..." You sigh locking up, you looked at Chifuyu and worry spread across your face. Chifuyu's chest heaved up and down heavily, he looked out of breath as if he ran a marathon.

You quickly take off your scarf and wrapped it around his neck, he softly gasped at the sudden action.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" You lock arms with him and following him as he walked to his apartment. You missed the way his face got brighter as he smelt your scent on the scarf. You said your goodbyes telling him to take medicine and get a good night's rest.

He kicked off his shoes and stripped down on his way to the shower feeling lightheaded, after his shower he took his medicine like you told him to, he wasted no time getting into his bed not before grabbing your scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He ignored the cries of his cat as he tried to drift off to sleep trying to forget the throbbing pain in his head.

ミ❣️That night he couldn't sleep, maybe it was the throbbing pain in his head or the nauseous feeling he'd get everytime he would shift his body.

ミ❣️Or possible it was the fact that everytime he closed his eyes he saw you, your smile, heard your voice, felt your touch.

ミ❣️Your hands were soft, oh so plush.

ミ❣️And your lips, the way they glistened due to the lip gloss you would constantly put on for worry your lips would dry out.

ミ❣️He couldn't forget your whines and pouts when he would call you, "dummy y/n" a nickname you acquired after spraining your ankle slipping while trying to give Tuna a bath.

ミ❣️The way you would stick out your bottom lip, your eyes would shine as if you were about to cry when he had to leave early...

ミ❣️You were adorable, his perfect little angel.

ミ❣️He drifts off daydreaming about every aspect of you that he loves, its a innocent little crush.

ミ❣️He begins to drift off about the way you dress, those pink cat ears that jingle everytime you move. That slutty maid costume that barely covered your ass. Those adorable stripped thigh highs that covered your thighs, pushing up the fat to the uncovered part of your upper thighs.

ミ❣️He nuzzled his flushed face into the scarf engulfing his nose in your sweet scent. It smelt like the fragrance you would constantly wear...

ミ❣️What was it again?

ミ❣️Fuck, he can't think straight trying to remember the name of your perfume makes his head hurt.

ミ❣️But thinking about how you would bend down he would get a full view of your plush cheeks made his cock hurt.

ミ❣️The way you would shake and sway your hips with each step you took.

ミ❣️He isn't in the right headspace, his mind has drifted away from his body. He's long gone, he lost all control of his actions.

ミ❣️Chifuyu is needy, the thoughts go right to his cock. His length twitched with every memory of you.

ミ❣️When did he pull his pants down to his knees?

ミ❣️When did his breath become broken and eratic?

ミ❣️He doesn't know how he ended feeling his dick through his underwear, how he began to fist his dick, all curled up in a ball, trying to release.

ミ❣️His other hand pulling the scarf closer to his nose to take deep inhales.

ミ❣️Chifuyu's voice becomes audible as soft groans leave his mouth.

ミ❣️Nothing more than pre-cum dripped from the tip of his angry cock as he aggressively jerked his hand up and down the length of his shaft, gripping it harder trying to get friction.

ミ❣️He just needed to cum.

ミ❣️It wasn't working. He spat in his hand, rolling into his back. He pr sses his thumb onto his tip. He hissed in pain as a electric jolt shot through his body.

ミ❣️His proud cock standing tall as he moved his hand up and down while simultaneously slightly thrusting his hips upwards. He clicked his tongue in annoyance when it just.. wasn't working.

It wasnt you

ミ❣️Chifuyu pulled his pillow from his head, shifting his position once more, laying back on his side, putting his cock onto the surface of the pillow. He slowly humped his pillow, grinding his dick into the pillow.

ミ❣️He found himself wondering what you were doing right now, if at night you played with yourself.

ミ❣️No, no, not that. He wondered how well you would take him, if you'd scream his name, begging him to go faster, calling him all sorts of names,

ミ❣️Daddy

ミ❣️Master

ミ❣️ They would sound so pretty coming out of your mouth

ミ❣️As he claimed your pussy as his spraying your insides with his cum.

ミ❣️Nah, you were too innocent for that... You were the type of girl to blush when somebody accidentally touches your hand of gives you a compliment.

ミ❣️If anything you would fail to understand why your core was heating up, desperate to feel something inside you but not understanding the meaning.

ミ❣️That's it, you'd come to him crying asking for him to help you feel better.

ミ❣️He groaned at the thought of him placing his hand around your throat while tongue fucking your mouth. You would struggle to kiss back as he roughly explored your mouth with his tongue. Your knees would buckle from the pleasure. He would pick you up, holding the back of your knees, gently grinding his hard cock against your sex.

ミ❣️He would treat you like a princess.

ミ❣️Laying on your back as you hurried to take your soaking panties off, your slick juices leaving a single string that was attached to your panties, proof that you were wetting your undergarments like a dirty slut.

ミ❣️Your face would be red as you shamelessly tell him in the softest tone.

ミ❣️"Want you so bad Fuyu'"

ミ❣️Fuck, his thrusts became more erratic, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip on his pillow.

ミ❣️Yeah, you'd call him by his nickname as you begged him to claim you, ruin you.

ミ❣️He imagine him sinking his fingers, he'd start with one not wanting to hurt you. Your tight untouched cunt tightly squeezing his finger. You would already be a moaning mess, Fuyu was talking all your firsts.

ミ❣️Your slightly loosened sex would take in another finger. You would try your best to muffle your slutty moans as he fingers your soaking pussy. You'd cover your mouth with your hand as his finger curled inside of you hitting that spot that made your toes curl and eyes widen.

ミ❣️You'd moan his name, begging him to stop. It felt weird, felt too good, something was coming.

ミ❣️He'd give you your first orgasm with his fingers, you had drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, your face was red. You were already so fucked out on his fingers.

ミ❣️He felt his cock twitch with these thoughts. He mindlessly began to fuck his pillow into the mattress, his body now on top of the pillow as he grinded on top of the pillow.

ミ❣️He'd have you suck on his fingers tasting yourself as he began to eat you out. His tongue slipping in and out of your slit, naughty slurping sounds emitted from the room as he throat fucked you with his digits that were once in your pussy. His nose would occasionally hit your lip causing you to arch your back pushing his tongue deeper inside you.

ミ❣️You love being eaten out huh? Love it when daddy fucks you with his tongue. Such a dirty little thing.

ミ❣️All the dirty things he could think of seeps from his mouth, while eating you out. He'd bring you to another orgasm with ease.

ミ❣️"Y/n, fuck, m'gonna cum" Chifuyu grunted out in a out of breath voice, he felt his cock spurt out his cum into his pillow, yet he wasn't satisfied.

ミ❣️He leaned back onto his shins, his knees pressing into the bed as he lifted the pillow up, slipping his cock into the pillow cover.

ミ❣️He wasn't done yet, your pussy would be twitching, eager to take his cock. You eyes would be begging him to fuck you into the mattress.

ミ❣️"Gonna fuck my princess dumb." He muttered out to nobody as he thrusted upwards into the pillow. His thrusts were shameless and aggressive as he pounded his pillow like a dog in heat.

ミ❣️His moans were loud as he muttered filthy things about you.

ミ❣️He would slip his cock into you, kissing away the tears from your eyes.

ミ❣️His cock was just too big, his dumb baby couldn't take it. The stretch hurt. Daddy made it fit though. Daddy will make you feel so good. Pretty girl.

ミ❣️He'd let you adjust waiting for you to give him the okay, he would start of slow, giving you small thrusts to get you used to the size of him. Deep passionate thrusts that said how much he loved you.

ミ❣️You would have the most beautiful moans and whines, he could listen to them all day. He would kiss you and your body till it bruised.

ミ❣️You'd beg him to fuck you, he would do just that. Slamming his hips into yours causing you to scream out his nickname, one of his hands would be on your thigh squeezing it oh so tight getting a good grip for when he pulls his cock out and slams your bodies into each other, fucking you senseless. While the other kept your mouth busy, occasionally taking his fingers out of your mouth to kiss you deeply bruising your lips with his.

He'd watch your every expression.

ミ❣️"Your pussy was made for me, look how well you're taking it. Doing so good"

ミ❣️Your eyes would cross as your tongue rolled out, you'd pants and beg for him to slow down. You didn't really want that, no, not when he was making you feel this good. The way you would arch your back, grind your hips into his, wrap your arms around his neck and grip his hair as you moaned louder with each thrust told him everything he needed to know.

ミ❣️You wanted more, you're greedy aren't you?

ミ❣️"My pretty little cocksleeve"

ミ❣️Chifuyu felt himself getting closer to his high, but he wanted to cum with you.

ミ❣️No, you weren't here.

ミ❣️His hand would make it to your clit giving it a soft slap before his thumb rubbed it in circles. You'd start cursing because of how good it felt. Telling him you wanted more, how you were about to cum, how much you wanted him to cum in you.

ミ❣️You would adore it, he knows it. You'd be such a cum hungry slut for him, no matter when or where you'd want him to cum in your tight pussy.

ミ❣️"Fuck, fuck— so good, Y/n— yer' pussy so good" Chifuyu cursed out as he imagined you creaming his cock the same time as he slammed his dick in you once more before spraying your insides white with his cum. Your body would shake as you had your final orgasm feeling so full.

ミ❣️"Fuck... Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!" Chifuyu cursed out realizing what he just did, he felt a wave of guilt as he felt his dick go limp after fucking his pillow to the thought of you like a madman.

ミ❣️He rushed into the shower, almost falling off his bed in a panic mode. He tried to wash it off, tried to wash off the sin of moaning your name while he fucked his pillow like some highschool horn dog.

ミ❣️He hoped you'd forgive him, he prayed you would.. You couldn't ever find out what he did, you'd label him as a pervert.

ミ❣️Maybe he was one.

ミ❣️He couldn't look himself in the mirror, too ashamed to face himself.

ミ❣️Chifuyu threw the pillow away before curling back in bed chanting soft apologies to nobody. He'd wrap his body in his blanket nuzzling his face back into your scarf as he drifting off final able to sleep.

ミ❣️The next morning you didn't understand why Chifuyu refused to make eye contact with you...

It was supposed to be a short drabble.... 500 works max 🤧🔫 anywaysssss

@baji-kuns hope you liked it 🙄 #Chifuyu'sAHoe

[t4twolfstar]

Bestie what're your all time favourite hp/marauders hcs?

good question and i know I'm going to forget a million things bc i don’t actively think of them like when i think of characters it's more of a vibe, an aura if you will but i will try my best

all the weird remus hcs he is just a goofy guy

remus darns/mends all his clothes

the other marauders get more into visible mending bc of him and are excited when some of their clothes tear x

peter is quiet and james is the one that always says like "what were you saying pete?" when sirius and remus talk over him and nods at him to make him feel heard. i guess they all take turns being selfish and talking over him and being empathetic and giving him the time of the day

they’re all artists to varying degrees (i think everyone is tho intentionally or not tbh) yall all know how i feel abt that tho

peter photographer/drawer tbh i never thought about it till your ask the other day and now I'm like. yeah. sold. of course. bc he is so quiet and small people don’t notice him and he's able to capture tender moments x

sirius starts doing a lot of things to spite his parents and they turn into habits he can't shake like biting his nails and laughing too loud and smoking and he's vegetarian adjacent for this reason

james has trichotillomania (he's always mussing his hair in canon and constantly touching your hair is a common trich thing)

i mean duh sirius and remus are gender queer/gender fluid/nonbinary

peter does the stick n pokes

all the marauders wear loud outrageous clothes

marauders learned to astral project in trelawney's class and mastered it so they could meet up in their dreams during the summer when they were away and hang out bc they're weird and obsessive

yk how everyone says they're smelly? yeah no they can smell themselves but think the BO smell is sexy and think they can appeal to the people who like them with their pheromones.

Molly is a kitchen witch (like obviously but really not just in jkr's stupid dumb way) she's super into divination so all the weasley's are

hermione, ever the virgo, was a skeptic but after being around ron long enough, who loves divination, def uses it now x

hermione and molly stitch sigils into everything x

harry uses playing cards and bibliomancy and mundane objects for divination when he's in privet dr x

like everyone is polyam and queer

remus makes so many off hand dead mom jokes the same way sirius makes offhand abuse/disowning jokes peter also has a dead sister so he gets it

after the war sirius has major death anxiety (remus had too after his mom but was better by the time sirius got it) x

the one i have no control over that's going to sound buck wild is that sirius' animagus is a cat bc i don't like dogs aksdjflakd but that's just a little personal secret one i don’t do anything w bc i know it's wrong

ok i wanted to link to other posts i made abt specific points bc..idk aquarius moon or something so the x next to a point is a link

[phoebehalliwell]

in your alternate next gen headcanons/fics, you've got Penn and the other P's (Piper's daughters), Dency (Phoebe's daughter), and Sheridan and Warren (Prue's son's). have you ever written anything about Paige's kids in any of the alternate universes?

okay so if i'm cataloguing every next gen warren witch that lives in my brain by charmed one, there's:

prue: warren & sheridan, patricia, penelope, & phillipa

piper: wyatt, chris & melinda, penn & (penn's siblings??), (jack the piper/kyle kid???)

phoebe: pj, parker & peyton, dency, (cj??)

paige: tamora, kat & henry jr, (bennie??)

in which um bennie has actually made a couple guest appearances on this blog and is the paige/richard kid and is like. a fat vibe def mentally ill but like. au where richard still binds or strips his powers whatever also he really seems like a tai chi guy and paige and richard are endgame i guess lmaoo so bennie their kid is raise not my you know bonkers batshit insane powers because i stand by my theory that richard was dose with blood of a greater being as a child and that's why magic makes his react the way he does so that does pass on just a little bit to his child. i also once very briefly constructed an au w a paige kyle kid but in a kyle still died world so paige still ends up w henry and has a daughter kyle at some point as a whitelighter finds out he has a daughter bc the elders were really keepin that Top Secret but kyle's quasi-adjacent in his kid's life but idk like. what those kids would be up to. isabel and beatrice maybe? i think they were bel and bea? lemme see if i can find the pöst. nope. well ur just gonna hafta trust me on that ig. yeah i can't say i've thot much about them. i think if i were really to spin a paige progeny solo story i mean well a) henry jr spin off bc like. i think that could be fun. but i think i would want to create a circumstance really separate from the next gen something that warrants a whole ass like Own Story (e.g. warren and sheridan being raises by jack, dency being the source's heir + having the twice blessed, which changes like magical society as a whole) because if it's still like you know there's wcm at the top of the lil next gen pyramid i feel like the worlds all stay too similar and it gets my brain fuzzy. i could do a paige-never-finds-the-power-of-three-au, where she still has her witch powers and figures shit out on her own, but i really don't know what the 411 with her kids would be. i could also have the other parent be some other type of magical being, cupid, warlock, darklighter, etc, bc that fusion would be interesting. i think out of all of paige's love interests, by far my favorite option for a father just from like an interesting character perspective is richard, because like. he has a whole magical bloodline and also a family that is implied practices black magic on occasion. that kid would pack a punch. there's kyle (mortal) and kyle (whitelighter), but like. i feel like if i were to do that again i'd have to spin up some au otherwise it's just the same gen 2 universe but instead of tam and kat it's paigekyle kids. you know what actually You Know What Actually Could Be Fun in a paige-never-finds-the-power-of-three-au-but-is-still-a-witch um fuckin hello?? paige glen. paige glen world travelers witch free spirit those kids would be. those kids would be so weird man just life experience globetrotters especially seeing as they have some magical legacy (the charmed destiny) that the belland family has just someone manage to outrun by like. quite literally like outrunning it. never being in the same place long enough for anything to really happen. i'm feeling two kids here. hmm but with two kids idk if they'd stick together a whole bunch i think they'd be a lot more free not like attached at the hip so either i run two separate plots or i only focus on one. but that could be. interesting to say the least.. esp if something happened where um. where like the charmed ones were wiped out. idk how. maybe prue did bite it in all hell breaks loose. maybe Phoebe dies. in ahbl. they're down to the power of two with piper and prue. piper taps out leo clips his wings and piper binds her powers and they leave the manor. piper then realizes she's pregnant witchlighter baby??? or she just has a normal witch baby. maybe a couple. actually just two i think i need to cap it at two bc no power of three access in this au. omg leo dies in s8 like how he was fated to die..................... prue holds down the homefront at the manor. finds love eventually has kids eventually i could go really out in left field and say fuck it prue x angel of death kids. but that requires

attention on its own part. but i could. i might. hmmm. because piper post leo death hell maybe leo just gets killed by a darklighter in spite of being mortal just because a darklighter recognizes him. piper like. changes her identity and raises her kid separate from the manor and magic. kids. maybe. prue is like. ballz to the wall fuckin intense. i could just make up a guy i could do whitelighter andy i could do. justin?? was his name? there's bane and jack but bane's in jail and jack would die in about five minutes so. i think i'd make up a guy. but i think prue has kids again maybe just two. i mean i could all give them one. but. . do i really want only children here lbr also prue and piper were both raised w siblings i could reasonably seeing prue having only one kid if it was like.. too dangerous to have another kid or something but i think she really wanted to be Mom. so anyways prue's witch kids are trained rigorously from warren lore, piper's kids are raised mortal, and paige's kids are raised with training from paige, who's self taught. anyway.s prue gets murdered and the manor is taken over by dark magic. when prue's kids are. mmm early twenties great age to take on an adventure that you're not like. remotely equipped to handle yet. they know they need to take back the seat of power lest something terrible happens. like it has to be a halliwell right the halliwells have to take back their house. so the halliwells get the bennets (piper's kids) (surprise! you're a witch!) and then somehow Also discover the bellands (surprise! you have a long extensive family tree that fights evil magic!) and then idk we really get the ball rolling we get some plot goin. wallah.

[d13tgr33nt34]

ahaha intro ig *lip bite*

hi its been a hot minute since ive been on tumblr, im mostly here for thinspo and posts i want to save

and yes my pfp is half ironic its a classic pic ok let me have this

im a bi enby and i use he/they/she/rad/arc pronouns, in other words im none gender with left boy

im 15, turning 16 this year, sag sun, sag moon, cap rising

currently super hyperfixated on dsmp, yeah yeah point and laugh but i promise im not a shithead about it

i have a diagnosed anxiety disorder and informed self diagnosis adhd and ednos/ana leaning (still not sure but i def have food issues why else would i be here bruv)

i am pro recovery and i think all bodies are beautiful (except for mine el em ay oh) so if your into weird shit gtfo

dms hella open! i talk on discord alot and i like to think i am both an unstoppable chaos being of spite and also a p sweet pushover people pleaser who just wants everyone to be happy, so im kind of swag to talk to :))