#pre u.a.

[hiyamatsu]

bnha au where izuku becomes a ghost after committing- one that only aizawa can see, he doesn't realise he's a ghost at first as he's stuck in a time loop only able to get out of it as he understands that he's dead

upon realizing that aizawa can see him, he starts helping the hero, giving him tips on where crimes are happening and so on

eventually when aizawa gets into a situation that leaves him hurt izuku panics and manages to interact with the world, by knocking the villain down long enough for aizawa to capture him

this sets off izuku to try and become a hero- and reconnect with people through aizawa and his newfound ability- which turns out to be his quirk, one that he had to die for

[fandrawsart]

Scrambled

[brayneworms]

no, you hang up! | shota aizawa

kinktober day three: phone sex

word count. 2.2k

content. phone sex, reader and aizawa are coworkers, mutual masturbation, referenced age gap (once and it's minor + doesn't contribute to their relationship dynamic), dirty talk, no genitals for reader mentioned, gender-neutral reader, teasing (reader calls him names but it's all fairly playful), pre-relationship.

♪ agora hills — doja cat

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

You know it's him before you even look.

Your room is blue-dark, cold; the central heating must have turned off hours ago, still on to warm you to sleep even beneath two comforters. The recent winters were no joke—you walked around town at the moment with dry, blistering lips and dull skin and watery eyes. Even now, as you raise your head from the comfort of your sheets to the arid air, gooseflesh breaks over your skin.

Something pulses; it's what woke you in the first place. Some noise, some shift in the quiet. Outside it's still dark, not yet late enough for the light to start turning greyish and buoyant. It takes a muddled, groggy few seconds as the static in your head starts to clear that you realise it's your phone. 

You grope blindly for it; it's only vibrating, but you're a tepid sleeper at the minute, and it's more than enough to rouse you from whatever fitful slumber you'd managed to fall into. You have to be careful not to forget and turn on your side, put pressure on the sling that binds your arm as you reach under the sheets for your phone as it rings, rings, rings out. 

You slap a hand across the plastic case, lift it with a wince at the cold blue light that shines out like fingernails down a chalkboard. But yeah—when you read the name AIZAWA across the top of the screen in informal white capitals, you can't honestly say you're surprised.

You stab the green button on what's probably the eighth or ninth ring. "Yeah?"

There's a moment where he doesn't say anything. Where the line crackles the way the ozone layer does before the first strike of lightning. "...Did I wake you?"

"Yeah," you say again, returning to your back. Your bound arm gives a twinge of protest. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, in that dry tone of his, the one that rarely manages not to sound clipped and bored. "I guess I didn't realise how late it is."

You pull the phone away, glancing for the first time at the time in the right-hand corner. 02.11am. He did have a nasty habit of letting the night slip away from him—and his regular bouts of insomnia mean the lateness of the hour doesn't always impress upon him as it does for most people—but you suspect there may be more to it than that. There's a hesitance, a reluctance in his voice. 

"It's okay," you say finally. "Have to pee anyway."

The static rises as he huffs down the line. "How's the arm?"

"Feels like roadkill," you mumble, which doesn't make a lot of sense. But sue you, you're tired and the painkillers wore off in your sleep. "Why're you calling?"

Another crackle, a soft shift, like an out-of-tune radio adjusting frequency. "No... particular reason."

As the fatigue starts to clear from your heavy brain, you try to picture it. Shouta Aizawa—evidently not patrolling tonight, given the lack of cityscape din in the background of the call. It's quiet; you can maybe hear the low purr of a ceiling fan. Earlier, he'd shifted, and you'd heard the rustling of sheets. So, he's in bed. Lying there. Alone. Calling you.

He's pretty transparent. But to his credit, you don't think he's trying to be conspicuous. It's not incredibly in his nature. And it's not in yours to call him out on it, either, which he knows. It's why he does it.

Does, not like—like this is a regular thing, or anything. There have been one or two what you like to refer to as unrelated incidents over the eight-year course of your working relationship. A kiss at a New Year's party that lingered a moment too long, the time he took you home after a night at the bar with the other U.A. staff and you couldn't be in the staffroom alone with him for about a fortnight afterwards.

"Just missing the sound of my voice?" you ask, trying not to sound too coy. You don't want to make him skittish, and anyway you have a feeling he hates when you try to play up your (in your opinion) minor age difference. 

Another rustle, quieter, shorter. "...Something like that," he murmurs. His voice is soft, despite the timbre of it reaching down to some pit in his chest. 

"So should I talk?" you press. 

"Sure," he replies.

"About what?"

"Anything." He swallows. "Whatever... whatever you'd like to talk about."

You roll your tongue over your lower lip, suck it for a moment whilst you think. "I miss work," you start. Boring, mundane—testing the waters. "Being stuck at home sucks. And all my friends are my coworkers, so you're all at work every day. 'S pretty lonely."

"I see." There's a hint of strain in his voice, one that makes a dim chord strike somewhere low and pitiful inside you. You cross your legs over each other. "You know we'd visit if we had the time."

"Yeah, I know. I bought myself plants to give myself a reason to get out of bed," you say, casting a glance over at them as they rest on your windowsill. Their leaves wink and shiver in the current of cold breeze let in from the crack in your window. "I have to get up twice to water them. And then when I'm up, I think, I might as well get something to eat, exercise. Shower."

The last work is deliberately provocative, like pressing on a ripe bruise to see when it starts to hurt. Your reward is the faintest hitch of Aizawa's breath. 

"I talk to Hizashi every day," you continue, trying to keep your own voice even. The silence on the other end of the phone sounds deafening, your heartbeat starting to get uncomfortably forceful in your chest. "He texts a lot, about silly things. Keeping me up to date on stuff at the school. It's not the same as being there, but it's sweet that he tries." You pause. "I wish I could see everyone, though. Hey—can I see you?"

You let the question hang. Lining up a hunting rifle to a buck's head, letting it decide to stay or flee. Then,

"Hang on." It comes through gruff and short, but it makes your stomach twist all the same. A moment later, your phone hums with a notification. It hangs, a grey banner at the top of your screen. From Aizawa, with a photo attachment.

Your mouth goes dry as you stretch your thumb to tap it. It's a flash photo of a barely-lit room. You can see dark blue sheets and a grey comforter, and two legs in slouchy grey sweats, cocked apart, shoved halfway down his thighs. But in the crux of the photo—

"Jesus," you blurt before you can stop yourself. You hear Aizawa huff a noise on the other end of the phone, could be laughter, could be something else. It’s not like your entirely inexperienced with Aizawa’s cock, but that was a while ago and there’s a big difference between a drunken sticky fumbling in the dark and seeing it properly, in low warm light, heavy and hard with his hand wrapped around it. His fingers, thick and pale, you can’t help but want them on you. Circled around your ankle, maybe, pulling you apart for him with that quiet, unassuming strength of his. 

“Is that a good or bad reaction?” he asks, and the note of strain is thicker than ever. He sounds strangled. “Should I start worrying—about my job position?”

“Probably,” you answer. “But—no. How long’ve you been touching yourself?”

You hear his breath hitch again at the casual crudeness of your words. “How long’ve you been on the phone?”

A hot red flash zips through you. Before your head has given your body permission, you’ve laid the phone down flat on your chest, speakers buzzing through your shirt as you slip a hand beneath the waistband of your underwear. You go straight for what feels good, finding yourself already embarrassingly ready, shuddering as your fingers brush the most sensitive parts of yourself. 

“You’re such a creep,” you groan, head back against the pillow. Aizawa makes a quick, cut noise in the back of his throat. “One week without staring down my shirt in the staff room and you resort to this?”

“I don’t—” He cuts himself off, sighing shakily. “I don’t stare.”

He does fucking stare, it’s just quite subtle and it took you a while to notice. 

“Yeah, right.” Your fingers curl and search, press and glide. You’re hot and wet, for him, for the first glimpse of lust since your leave of absence began. “Bet you’d do anything for a taste.”

“...Maybe,” he stammers, breathing hard and quick against the phone. Now you can hear a soft stream of sounds coming through, a shlck-shlck-shlck that makes your blood hot and your brain fuzzy. “Maybe I’ve thought about it. Once or twice.”

“Dirty old man,” you say, half-babbling, and he groans low in his throat. You wish you could see him, God you can picture it—head thrown back, thick dark hair splayed against the rumpled pillows like a funeral shroud, sleep shirt ruched up to show the soft pale plane of his stomach dusted with dark spiralling hairs. You’d follow the pattern down to where the hair was thickest, push your hand through to where he was hard and hot as a brand for you. You didn’t get much time to play with him before, restless and lazy and horny off the cheapest champagnes you could order at the bar; he’d been inside you before too long and back out far too soon. 

“I’m n-not…” Hearing his resolve start to crack and fracture is the hottest thing in the world. Your own fingers work faster, jamming at the spots that make your legs gooey and your stomach start to tauten. “Isn’t my fault you look like that.”

Your giggle is breathless, half a moan. “Took that right out of the old perverts’ handbook,” you mutter. “Don’t break a hip on your way over here.”

“Shut up, shut up,” he grunts. “Damn it—shouldn’t have called—”

“I’m glad you did,” you say. Sweat is starting to collect in your armpits and the back of your neck. “Been so bored. This is the first time I’ve felt anything in weeks.”

His breath is ragged. “What do you feel?” he asks hoarsely. 

“Hang on.” The photo you send is conservative compared to his; just a shot of your hand disappearing into the waistband of your shorts. But you hear his stifled whimper, low in his throat, crackling with desperation. 

“God,” he hisses. “You have no idea what I’d do to you.”

“I have—some idea,” you mumble. 

“No, not like before,” he growls. “I was too drunk to do much of anything. What a waste. I���d never let you go if I had you now. I’d make you cum three times before I even thought about fucking you. My mouth, my hands, my thigh, anything.”

You imagine the scratch of his stubble on your inner thigh, or your own legs clamped around the thick muscle of his thigh, and nearly white out. You’re not in control, not of the way your hips cant desperately against your hand or the desperate moan his words pull from you, turning to stifle it into the pillow. 

“I want you inside me so bad,” you find yourself babbling, hot with embarrassment over the desperation in your voice. You sound close to tears. “Jesus—your hands, I’m always thinking about it. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He makes a keening, desperate noise, like a starving animal going for food. “Show me.”

You barely hesitate, ripping your shorts and underwear all the way off, and it’s only a few more desperate strokes of your fingers until you feel them flood over, your whole body shuddering and legs twitching. Your chest heaves and you blink up at the ceiling, withdrawing your hand from between your legs. Very awkwardly, you manage balance your phone enough in your slung hand to take a photo, the flash illuminating the mess between your thighs, the gleam of your own spend on your fingers. Before you can let embarrassment get a hold of you prematurely, you send the picture to Aizawa.

The result in instantaneous. He pulls a breath through his teeth. “God—fuck, look at you. So messy. God, I’m—” A choked-off moan, the breathiest noise you’ve ever heard from him as he cums. You lie there, warm all over, your skin singing as you listen to him fall apart on the other side of the phone. The speakers tickle your skin as you scrub a hand down your face.

After, you listen to his harsh panting breath. Then there’s a pocket of silence, the sort neither of you know how to break.

Finally, you cave. “...Feel better?”

“Don’t,” he mumbles. “This was… highly inappropriate.”

“Agreed.”

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“Probably not.”

There’s a pause. “...Is it fine? That I did?”

A smile touches your mouth. “Yeah, it is.”

He huffs. You picture him rubbing at his eyes, drawing the skin inward to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Well, then… yes. I do feel better.”

“Get off work early sometime,” you murmur. “I get so bored around here. Could use the company.”

You’re not sure why, but you think he’s smiling. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

taglist: @deltamel (+ask to join!!)

[bloody-night]

Midnight sweats

Aizawa Shouta x reader

you and your husband finally have time together

nsfw

Aizawa was always in U.A. either grading papers or teaching, helping his students who only he could control best. You were a known hero around Japan, working everyday to maintain a reputation as you climbed to make it to the pro heroes.

You both never had time to be together, only once in a while you’d have a few minutes or sometimes an hour or more to spend time with your darling love. Paying Aizawa a visit with gifts or food, maybe also to chat and catch up.

Until recently you finally had a day off, paying a visit to your dear husband.

The dorms for Class 1-A were empty, the students were still with the pro heroes working by their side. The building was ominously quiet, that is until the sounds of the bed creaking and the headboard hitting the wall loudly could be heard throughout the building.

“Fuck…” Aizawa huffed loudly, his teeth biting his pillow, wetting it with drool, his hands gripping the sheets. Your thrusts weren’t helping him think, that way your hips snapped onto his, his ass recoiling from the way you thrusted so roughly inside him.

“You love me fucking you like this?” You asked, chuckling breathlessly before continuing to fuck him in place. Your hand pushing his face onto the pillow, fingers gripping his long hair. Your other hand groping his ass, occasionally giving it a slap. Aizawa would let out a groan of pain, but immediately moan afterwards from your thrusting. The smacking of his cock hitting against his stomach as it leaked sticky pre-cum, it made him slightly embarrassed, though those thoughts were pushed back as you gave him a life time of a fucking.

His ass was up, back arched beautifully as you fucked him eagerly, hungry for him, hungry for his hole and warm insides. You groaned as you leaned down, hands moving to press down and lower your husbands’s ass, before holding his hips in place, keeping them still as you fucked him like your living and tight fleshlight. Your teeth latched onto his shoulder, before quickening your pace. Practically pounding him at this point. You behaved like a feral wolf, eager to fuck and breed Aizawa. It was well deserved after months without being together like this.

Your husband moved his head to the side, moaning loudly as your cock was thick and long enough to reach his sweet spot. Tears pricked his dry eyes, before squeezing them shut. “Fuck… keep fucking me, please..” He whispered desperately. His body covered in glistening sweat, seemingly glowing as the moonlight shone on him. He was so hungry for you, he missed you so much, he missed your touch, your gaze, especially your fat cock that fucked him dumb.

Aizawa whimpered as he felt you quicken your thrusts more, pounding his insides, literally reaching his guts and arranging them, making Shouta breathless with each thrust you gave him.

His face was red, drool escaping his lips and pupils blown from so much lust. You pulled away from him shoulder, leaving it bruised and drooled on, before grunting loudly. “‘M gonna fill you up so good, so fucking good you’ll remember about me everyday when you feel your ass leak with my cum.” You promised him, gripping his hips harder, earning a hiss from him.

Your thrusts were rough, before finally giving a final one, warm cum covering your husband’s walls. Shouta gasped before he himself also came, his dick spurting out ropes of milky cum, audible grunts coming out his throat. Aizawa whimpered as he felt you fill him up, also feeling your dick twitch inside him.

You huffed, both of you trying to regain your breathing, chests rising and lowering frantically. Aizawa sighed as he tried moving, before feeling you thrust again, starting out slow. “W-wait… you’re going again?” He asked, his eyes wide, staring at you through his hair.

“I told you I’m going to leave you full, you’re gonna bare my children, you’re going to be fucked dumb my love.” You whispered into his ear, earning a silent whimper from him.

Aizawa was screaming at this point, his voice pitch high as he cried. You weren’t letting go of his hips and you were frantic about breeding this man. “That’s it baby, scream all you want, tell everyone how good I’m fucking my husband.” You whispered, kissing his sweaty neck. Aizawa whimpered as he sobbed, tears streaming down his face as drool escaped past his lips. His own cock was red and swelled up from all the moments he came, it was still standing and releasing needy beads of pre cum.

You were practically sandwiching Shouta between the bed and you, your figure giving him so much warmth. Your cock pounded his insides, his hand feeling it poke through his skin, it was so overwhelming it made him tremble.

This was the ninth or tenth round, you were sure tired but this final load you were about to release was coming close. “I’m close baby, I’m close.” You whispered, latching your teeth onto his neck so tightly, afraid that if you let go you’ll lose him.

Your canines dug deep into Aizawa’s skin, it made him bleed a bit. Your husband groaned so eagerly, loving the stinging feeling you gave him as he felt your tongue lick his blood. He felt your hands arch his lower back, before drilling your cock into him one more time, loud moans of pleasure and pain left him throat, his hand gripping his pillow.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” He released a string of curses, before curling his toes and letting out a long and dragged out moan, releasing onto his already stained sheets. Shouta’s body shook as you continued, before not long after you finished inside him a final time. You panted as you stayed still, filling up your endearing husband, hearing him whimper quietly.

“That’s it baby, take in my kids, you’re gonna be a great husband for me, a holder of my kids, a vessel.” You whispered, keeping your dick in him before laying behind him, your hand feeling his tummy. “You will remember me better this way, when I’m gone for heroic reasons, you’ll have my cum as a reminder of what I’ll do to you when I’m free.” You whispered into his ear, earning a groan from him, before feeling you move his hair out of the way to make access of his neck, kissing and sucking on it.

“Thanks.. but you ruined my chance of walking for a couple of days..” He mumbled, panting quietly. “Oh please, you can take sick days.” You let out a chuckle, continuing to care for him. “Right… I hope they don’t worry about me.” He sarcastically said, rolling his eyes that you sensed without seeing him.

You both stayed silent, stayed still as you held him close to you, naked bodies pressed against each other as your cock was warm snuggled deep inside Aizawa.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up, baby.” You whispered,

before hearing a faint snore.

[harukamitsuki]

Why does the fandom find the jokes about Bakugou attacking Izuku or even trying to kill him so funny? Like, where's the fun in that? But when Izuku rejected Bakugou's offer, everyone thinks he's the worst person in the world… I've already accepted that the fandom doesn't care about Izuku, they only remember him because of the ships, other than that, they don't care about him.

Because they want to undermine his abuse. They don't want to acknowledge that he is a piece of shit who continues to abuse his victim in public and gets away with it. They don't want to admit that he's another Endeavour.

They don't care about Izuku. Not even the B*kuD*ku shippers care about Izuku. All they care about is Bakugou and that he gets what they believe is best for him.

They acted like Izuku committed a grand sin, an irredeemable act towards Bakugou for rejecting his offer... while ignoring how Bakugou did worse to him for fourteen years. Probably more, let's be honest. He probably continued to treat him like shit during the rest of their U.A. days.

Bakugou fans were more concerned for Bakugou after Izuku lost his quirk, because they don't care about Izuku. I saw someone comment that the reason they feel more bad about Bakugou is that 'he'd go through more without saying a word'.

Izuku went through more. Izuku was bullied since the age of four. He was beaten up before he was five. He was hurt by everyone around him, emotionally and physically, when he was still in pre-school. He learned before he was in U.A. that the world is not fair.

But Bakugou stans choose to ignore this, because if they did acknowledge it, they'd have to deal with the fact that Bakugou was the cause of most of Izuku's pain.

They tell people who hate Bakugou that they're 'stuck in chapter/episode one' without realising that it's everything afterwards that makes him so hateable. It's the fact that he didn't deal with any direct consequences, and that he continues to hurt Izuku even after they've 'made up'.

He threw an iced-over snowball at Izuku's head. He threw a spiky, sharp item at his head which imbedded into Izuku's head. He dragged Izuku out via blackmailing him with OfA only to beat him up instead of just talking things out. He got everyone in 1-A to beat up Izuku instead of just reaching out to him to apologise for something NOBODY knew about and make everything about him.

And more. There are many moments which proved that Bakugou never changed, but people either laugh it off or construe it as '10/10' writing. There are people who ranked Izuku vs Bakugou 2 as the best in the series, because they can't fathom the idea that it was just Bakugou beating Izuku up, then Izuku somehow sharing the blame despite being the victim AGAIN.

They laugh it off and treat it like a joke, because they don't want to deal with what it means if it isn't a joke. They don't want to acknowledge how harmful their favourite is.

In other words, they take the older generation's go-to phrase, "You're too sensitive."

[katsus-world]

I can’t sleep and all I can think about is katsuki and you making out, his hips rocking against yours. You can feel his erection through his pants. You hook your leg around his waist while the other one supports your body. His hand finding home around your throat and the other one around is gripping your thigh.

He loves the feeling in your throat pulsing, giving it a squeeze till the rough pads of his fingers are pulling down your shirt, twisting your nub before his hand is caressing your tit.

His lips are sucking on that sweet spot of your neck, biting softly then giving it a quick peck. Wonton moans slip passed your puffy lips. The feeling of his hard-on hitting your clothed clit had chills up your spine.

“Katsuki quit playing!” You pull at his hair, forcing him to look up at you. His vermilion eyes locking with yours. Eyes glistening with lust.

“Can’t fuck you here princess..” he was right, you didn’t exactly feel like getting fucked in a closet at U.A, even if this was your last year.

“Then stop turning me on!” You say harshly, no actual anger behind your words. Only frustration, sexual frustration.

He clicks his tongue, then his muscular arms pick you up. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively. Pinning you against the door, his too, puffed up lips are back on yours. This time his hips snapping against your rough and fast. A groan erupting from his throat as his cock drags against you and the fabric of his pants. Pre-cum oozing from his tip. And he knew that he would have a wet spot right now, bleeding through his pants.

His hand covers your mouth while the other one is holding you up by your thigh. The feeling of your wet panties against his rock hard member had you going crazy.

Wanting- no needing him, head fuzzy with lust as you sang out, all your noise getting blocked his large hand. Eyes rolling to the back of your head with each thrust, with each suck from his lips on your neck.

¯\(°_o)/¯ ¯\(°_o)/¯ ¯\(°_o)/¯ ¯\(°_o)/¯ ¯\(°_o)/¯ ¯\(°_o)/¯

My insomnia is killing me but I had to get this little idea out. Sorry for not finishing it but if y’all want a part 2 I can write it when it’s not 12:40 in the morning! 🥹

Also not proof read so sorry abt that!

[deusvervewrites]

https://www.tumblr.com/deusvervewrites/768998429319970816/httpswwwtumblrcomdeusvervewrites768997427935?source=share

I was thinking more about this and im not sure how i want this to go:

Does the Mind Link part still exist or is it just a 'Part OfA boost' due to Energy Conversion?

Is it a slowly 'Everyone he Fuses with since the Fuse with Guardian Spirit experiment (probably done pre start of U.A)' joins in ...

If so does that mean the Hivemind can go beyond the usual Hivemind members , and Does It? I can see SOME instance arising

... Or is it still just a USJ freak Awakening

Does the Sentience of GS!OfA negate the permanence of HiveMind or just make it easier to occur

Does Polymerization make it so the whole Swapping Bodies and/or Quirks from HiveMind on a dime is harder , as Izuku (and i suppose GS!OfA) somewhat 'controls' who can

This also gives me the mental image of the collective essentially having to submit request forms. Im imagining Kaminari spamming wanting to fuse with Jiro cuz 'EAR TASER GUNS DUDE'

Would it make small fusions (whether within the collective , or trying on someone outside) impossible , everyone becoming 1 whenever its activated

Hell i can see all these being Au Aus of this combo like the Extraterrestial x QUIRKSIIINNNNSPPAAAAAACCEE post

what has been unleashed

[my-rewrite-academia]

Arc 1: Pre-Entrance Exam

Yeah, the name is a work in process...

So, this will detail everything of importance that happened before the Entrance Exam.

-

The first change we're made aware of is the fact that Izuku works out. The beginning scene would be the same, with Izuku defending a boy from Bakugou and his lackies. He will black out and the narrative would say 'Not all men are created equal'.

Then we cut to Izuku in the middle of working out. He's got muscle on him, like his form after Dagobah, and when he's done, Izuku further narrates his life. Diagnosed quirkless at the age of four, Bakugou going from mean to horrible, almost giving up on his dreams...

That is until Hisashi tells him about pre-quirk media. And, desperate to find some sort of figure he could relate to, Izuku takes it all in. He watches every anime, every movie, everu gameplay, reads every book that he can.

And in it he finds hope.

We're shown that he's been working out since he was eight, when he first got into pre-quirk media, and Hisashi had sent him a katana to fight with as a way to substitute a quirk.

However, even though he's strong and knows how to fight, even back then, it doesn't change his treatment.

Everything, (other than the fact that Izuku put more effort into his dream), is the same as canon. The teacher reveals that Izuku wants to go to U.A., Bakugou is somehow threatened by this and threatens Izuku, burns his notebook, and tells him to off himself.

Except, instead of only being hurt and not actually considering ending his life, Izuku think about it. He thinks about how easy it would be to fall on his katana, or leap from the roof. The only reason he doesn't is because he doesn't want to ruin Bakugou's chances at heroism, which he would if he went through with it.

Again, canon events happen. Sludge monster attacks and Izuku immediately takes back wanting to die because it felt awful. All Might saves him, tells him he can't become a hero and takes him off the roof. When All Might leaves, Izuku looks back at the roof and considers it once more.

Explosions distract him and he finds himself automatically walking towards the scene despite wanting to go home.

A la canon, he rushes in when he sees Bakugou's face. Not because he's Bakugou, but because he's a scared, dying child.

He runs in, and his analytical prowess is shown in a much better light, as well as his physical. He grabs a pen from his bag and shoves it into the Sludge Villain's eye, then uses his bag to move the sludge, freeing Bakugou's arm enough for izuku to grab and pull.

The heroes on scene actually do something. Death Arms runs in to protect the two of them, and Kamui Woods aims from further away. Izuku directs them to a victory, having Backdraft dillute the villain so he's easier to seperate, having Mount Lady shrink so she can fit inside the alley. Ordering Bakugou to blast off a hanging sign above the Sludge Villain, causing enough pain to the villain's eyes and teeth - the only solid parts - for him to be knocked out.

They're then rushed to the hospital, though Izuku is still scolded for being reckless, and Bakugou praised for being 'brave'. Bakugou tells Izuku to not look down on him, and Izuku snaps. He tells him that he is the only reason Bakugou is still alive.

All Might does not come.

-

Izuku decides that reacting to Bakugou's taunts only encouraged him, so he decides to start ignoring him completely, even when he's terrified.

To prepare further for the exam, he decides to clean Dagobah, after a news outlet shows a before and after image. He also requests help, because this isn't just for him. It's for the people.

There, he meets Kirishima and Ashido, where we see his quirk analysis skills, dissecting both of their quirks and preparing for hate, but recieving praise in stead. He still has not told them that he's quirkless.

During this time, there's a public scandal, leading to people wanting a hero, called 'Master of None: Jack', to have his licence revoked and be put behind bars. He's an example of a corrupt hero, who allowed and watched civillians die, most of them being mutants. He is revealed to have previously worked at U.A. before he was let go, so Nedzu makes a statement about it, promising to make sure they do not create any future heroes like him.

Inside U.A., Nedzu hosts a staff meeting, where he bans Aizawa from sleeping during class, and he cannot expel anyone without consulting Nedzu first. It's also revealed that Aizawa does not mark any 'expelled' students records, merely says they're expelled and invites them back into school a week later.

He also changes the entrance exam, which we'll discuss in a later post.

-

-

So, to summarise:

Izuku works out and we're shown this

Bakugou is still a bully, even after Izuku saves him, and the suicide dare still happens

All Might tells Izuku he cannot become a hero, and does not approach him after the fights

Izuku directs the heroes to a victory, but is still told off for interfering while Bakugou is praised

Izuku starts cleaning Dagobah and meets Kirishima and Ashido through this

We get an example of a corrupt hero

Nedzu changed the entrance exam

[nanamimizz]

𝐓𝐇𝚬 𝚩𝚬𝐒𝐓 𝚶𝐅 𝐘𝚶𝐔, 𝐓𝐇𝚬 𝐑𝚬𝐒𝐓 𝚶𝐅 𝐘𝚶𝐔

tags:18+ minors dni, afab reader, vouyerism, dubcon, hinted mxm, doggystyle, m!masturbation, dacryphilia, hinted threesome, overstimulation - let me know if i missed something // @cordyce @sukunasstarlight this. this is what the devious aizawa fic was

synopsis:when indulged with a dirty little secret, you’d do anything to make your husband and your friend happy right?

In all the years you’ve been with Shouta you have never once seen him like this - kissing and nipping at your stuttering lips with a hunger you only caught whenyou two of you eloped right on the night of his graduation from U.A. Back then, with his shorter hair, Shouta had you on your back panting into your mouth as he muttered confessions of love meant only for you to hear. Now it seems history will repeat itself as he takes you from behind - the gold band around his ring finger glittering in the darkness of your shared room as it clutches over your own fist that crumples the sheets you washed that morning. Your bottoms - his old sweats from his third year sling low on your hips- are ripped off and abandoned along with the underwear you know he pocketed when you weren’t looking. He’s already pried one orgasm from you, your cunt is slick and soft from the pleasure that melted away your mind until all that’s left in your bones is your thought of him - and of the guest in the room next to yours.

It is not often that friends from both of your circles come to your Shouta's abode but when Hizashi called about not being able to make it to his own apartment neither you nor Shouta hesitate to open your door for the blonde. You’ve known Hizashi for as long as you’ve known your husband, which feels like a lifetime, so greet him with a bright smile and offer him some leftovers for dinner. 

You’re too busy smiling and talking about small, polite things that you don’t notice how he sputters and blushes each time you grace him with a smile from over your shoulder as you serve him. Too busy laughing at his retelling about an incident at his radio show you don’t notice how Shouta reclines against the walls of the kitchen with something burning in the coal of his eyes as Hizashi tries his best to keep making you laugh.

Hizashi has always thought of you to be the most beautiful when you are laughing, ever since your days at U.A.

Despite his best attempts to make you forget everything else - his fingers wet from your slick and his jaw sore from tongue fucking your cunt you still weakly try to tell him to be quiet. You are the prettiest when on his bed, surrounded by sheets that smell of him and you - heated by the hot lust in your veins that he is the cause of. Shouta keeps one rough hand over yours, a sweet gesture when plans to do terrible, dirty things to you as you tremble into the bed you two have christened in your love more than enough times.

“Shouta, please he’s going to hear us-” Whatever you are to say next dies upon your lips and all you can taste is hedonistic lust that weighs heavy on your tongue.

“Let him.” Your brain freezes at the same time as the head of his heavy cock pushes into the folds of your slick cunt and you double over from the fire that surges into the marrow of your bones. You're quiet and trembling - “what?” makes him groan as he heaves himself over you, his form dwarfing yours completely as the head of his cock is welcomed by the silk heat of your cunt, from the tip that drips with hot webs of pre to the base. His reward is the hitch in your breath, the trembling gasp you let out, and the soft crystals of tears that bead in your waterline.

“I said - Let him, let him hear how sweet you sound in bed,” Shouta mumbles into the feathered waves of your hair, his stumble rubbing against your neck. You shudder under him, from how his breath follows the same path down your neck as the bites he left and from how he slowly rocks into you. Shouta is thick, stirring your insides to the point you feel him in your chest with each thrust he gives you. It’s too much, the way he fucks you, the dirty secret he just gave you the insight to, and how if you focused enough you could hear other, softer trembling gasps from the room next door.

And, the all too familiar wet shucks of a cock being tugged that seem to echo in your mind more than the wet smacks of skin that fill the room you are in.

“Hizashi always thought you were pretty - ever since our first years. Always wanted you but you ended up mine instead.”Shouta pauses to press a kiss to a notable bruise upon your beck he left. Dark eyes that are trained to catch anything in the dark can see the trail he left up your body as clear as day. On the swell of your breasts, the delicate line of your collarbone, and up to where your neck bleeds into your shoulder he has mapped you like one would the wilderness, and his mouth still sings from where your sweetness melts onto his tongue.

Shouta may be a man of virtue and rationality, but even he needs to indulge in the sweetness of all different kinds.

“Shouta- “you begin to moan the way you do when he makes love to you but that isn’t what he wants right now. Your breath feels like it’s been sucked out of you when he takes his cock out of you, making sure to drag out your walls in a way that makes it press against each little spot inside your cunt that makes you cry and gush for him.

“No, you don’t say my name right now - you say his. We go at his pace and you cum when he cums.”  His hand that is clamped around yours has not left its place, squeezing the limb with a softness that betrays the almost cruel cat-and-mouse game he is playing with you. It reassures you, gives you the care you need to balance the harshness of his words and you repay him with a soft nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat that has appeared since he took away your pleasure with one swipe of his hips.

“Say it - you know what it is we want to hear.” Your lips tremble as the words are formed with your watery and thin voice. The syllables are familiar yet not, hot with a desperation that no walls no matter how thick could be blocked. You realize that the blonde could have heard it all from the moment you entered the room - Shouta had pinned you to the shared wall for a reason and the deceit makes your clit twitch more than you’d like to admit to.

“Yes…Hizashi, please make me cum.” You say the words that are hot like forged iron and the room burns with something you’ve never noticed but now you want the fire - from the outside and the inside to consume you entirely. Quietly you hear your friend’s quiet - “Yeah, yeah fuck - let her have it.”

You blink and Shouta is back inside you, cock thick and long and fucking you full like he’s experiencing you for the first time again. Even if you wanted to keep quiet you couldn’t - not when they have you like this. Every cry, gasp, and pant makes them in turn give you their own desperate and lewd noises - you hear the praise Hizashi gives you each time you moan his name like it’s the gospel, like he’s the one inside of you and not your husband of almost a decade.

“Fuck, fuck fuck - Sho how are earth are you fucking her to make em’ sound like that?” You hear Hizasahi pant, breathless as if your roles were switched. You try to ignore the flutter in your cunt at the idea and Shouta from above chuckles, his voice so deep you feel the bass of it in your chest and you whine. Hiding your face into the sheets, biting the soft material, and staining the fabric with the flattering cherry chapstick you wear at home.

“Slow - and deep. That’s how she likes it. Cries really pretty if I give it to her too fast.” He says, rattling off the things he has learned about you and you whine, face hot with pleasure cradled in humiliation. Helpless by how it grows from a whine to a keen from your husband’s seeking fingers settle on the bud on your clit and rub at the slick bundle of nerves. You are soon matched by Hizashi, who finds your noises to be addictive and finds it in any way to encourage you - “Fuck, fuck pretty thing he’s giving it to you good? You love your husband’s cock huh? Bet you’re really pretty on it too.”

“You like that? You like hearing our friend hear you getting fucked?” Shouta teases and you pant out a soft and whiny little affirmation. As your eyes squeeze shut you don’t see how Shouta grins, wide and in his jack - o - lantern way that you tease him for from time to time. Now is not one of those times, as you moan back your affirmation; yes, yes you like having your mutual friend of a decade hear you getting fucked within an inch of your life by your husband in your shared home and you wished he was here too.

Tears build in the long strokes of your eyelashes and you feel it - the band weaved from every dirty, depraved thing that has occurred in your home coming to its breaking point. Moans and whines that come not from your lips but from the room next over, your husband’s cock that buries itself inside of you as if he’s trying to mold you to him and him alone. All of it is too much, culminating in that you can’t bear the weight anymore, pleasure burns like gasoline lit a blaze and your choked-out whines let the men in your home and heart know you are at your end.

“I’m cumming - ’m gonna cum, oh!” Shouta moans from atop you, his hips still going at the pace Hizashi set from the beginning and he calls over, loud enough to be heard from between your own noise.

“Should I let her Hizashi?” His question is like rope frayed and worn, Shouta knows that he won’t last, and if you were more coherent you’d see he was just as easily played with as you were.

“Yeah - fuck man if she sounds like that give her anything she wants Shouta.” Your husband laughs, low and breathy from on high; all you can do is bite down onto the sheets when he fucks you hard and fast. Just as he said, you sob and tears fall down your cheeks as he uses the strength he’s grown from his career to fuck into you until you shatter on his cock. Your cum leaks and runs down him, following the lines of his veins until it drips down to the sheets. Your spin trembles beneath him, jumping at the heat of his cum when he finishes inside of you - like raw fire in your veins that makes you relax down into the sheets.

When the clicking of the door makes your head perk up - you realize how quiet it’s gotten, the only thing that can be heard is you and Shouta’s panting. This is why when the door clicks open, your weary eyes widen and you moan, cunt fluttering weakly when you meet eyes like emeralds. Shouta presses a kiss to your head, his deep voice rumblings in your ear,

“We’re not done yet - perk up, sweetheart .”

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 08 Chapter 08 | conditioning the flame⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The pre-dawn sky bled a pale orange over the ragged silhouettes of trees in the abandoned park. A cool mist clung to the ground, swirling around your feet as you finished a series of stretches.

Opposite you stood Bakugo, his explosive blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His ragged breaths echoed in the stillness, punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of his heart.

The previous hour had been relentless. You'd pushed him through a gauntlet of sprints through the woods, dodging fallen logs and leaping over rocky outcrops.

Now, you were sparring, your movements a blur as you danced around his explosive attacks.

A well-placed side-step brought you behind him, and you delivered a sharp kick to his back, sending him staggering forward. He stumbled, catching himself on a groan-worthy grunt.

You stood tall, arms crossed, a critical look on your face. "Faster than last week," you conceded, your voice devoid of praise.  "But it's not enough."  You crouched low, reaching up to brush a few damp strands of hair from his forehead.

Bakugo, leaned into your touch reflexively, exhaustion momentarily eclipsing his usual defiance. He grunted in response, a single, guttural sound that spoke volumes of his determination.

The start of a long summer of grueling training had begun—another step on the path you'd meticulously crafted for him.

He was your pawn, yes, but a powerful one nonetheless.

You smirked, the feeling hidden beneath your neutral expression.

This relentless drive, this insatiable hunger for power—you had nurtured it, fueled it.

He may have thought he was training to become a hero, but you were shaping him into something far more... valuable.

And when the game truly began, you'd be the one pulling the strings.

You rose, pulling back your hand. "Push harder," you murmured, your voice soft but laced with an underlying challenge. "The entrance exam won't wait for you to catch your breath."

A spark ignited in Bakugo's red eyes, mirroring the glint of ambition in your own. He straightened, his stance unwavering despite his fatigue. "I don't need your pity," he snarled, his voice hoarse but firm.

You chuckled, a low, chilling sound. "Pity? This," you gestured around at the desolate landscape bathed in the faint light of dawn, "is opportunity. Seize it.  Show them all what you're truly capable of."

The fiery spirit you'd helped cultivate flickered back to life in his eyes. Though his body screamed for rest, his pride wouldn't allow him to yield. "I said. I don't need your pity," he snarled, his voice hoarse but firm. A vein pulsed in his temple, a testament to his simmering frustration and unwavering resolve.

You weren't surprised by his defiance. In fact, it fueled your hidden agenda.

A sly smile played on your lips, hidden beneath your neutral expression. "Suit yourself," you said, your voice flat.  "But remember, U.A. won't accept weakness."

With that, you allowed him a few precious seconds of reprieve, letting him savor the fleeting comfort of lying sprawled on the cool grass.

Just as he started to sink into a semblance of rest, you clapped your hands once, the sharp sound echoing through the silent woods.  "Alright, that's enough rest," you declared, your voice leaving no room for argument.

Before he could protest, you sprang forward with surprising agility and landed crouched on his back. The sudden weight jolted him, and a surprised grunt escaped his lips. He twisted his head to glare at you, but you simply grinned, your eyes gleaming with an almost predatory glint.

"Time for push-ups," you announced, your voice laced with a playful challenge.  "Fifty, and make them count."

Bakugo's jaw clenched, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. He hated the way you manipulated him, the way you pushed him to his limits under the guise of friendly competition.

But deep down, a twisted sense of gratitude simmered.

You were the only one who truly understood his relentless drive, the only one who pushed him to become stronger.

With a frustrated groan, he began the push-ups.  His muscles screamed in protest, his arms shaking with fatigue. But he wouldn't give in, not in front of you.

One by one, he knocked out the push-ups, his teeth gritted tight in determination.

You counted silently, your gaze fixed on the rippling muscles beneath you. Each push-up was a testament to his strength, his potential.

And you, the puppeteer in the shadows, would ensure he reached his full potential—on your terms.

☆

☆

The relentless sun dipped towards the horizon, painting the desolate park in warm hues of orange and red. The air hung heavy with the sounds of exhaustion.

Bakugo, sprawled on the grass, gulped down water from his bottle, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, the remnants of your grueling training session clinging to him like a second skin.

Across from him, you leaned casually against a gnarled tree trunk, a stark contrast to his state. A light sheen glistened on your brow, a testament to the exertion, but nowhere near the fatigue gripping Bakugo.

The skills you honed in your past life as Makima, slowly bleeding into this one, granted you an exceptional level of physical prowess. You were a master combatant, adept at hand-to-hand combat without relying on weapons or pawns.

Bakugo watched you from beneath hooded eyelids, his gaze lingering on your profile.  An unfamiliar heat bloomed in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

Infatuation.

The word hung heavy in the unspoken space between you, a bizarre notion considering the constant verbal sparring and grueling training sessions you subjected him to. Yet, there you were, somehow occupying every corner of his mind.

He frowned, a bewildered scowl twisting his features.

It was illogical, this strange pull towards you.

Unaware of the turmoil brewing within him, you were already strategizing for the upcoming week. Thoughts of new training regimens, targeted exercises, and grueling challenges danced in your mind.

You needed him to be honed to perfection, a weapon waiting to be unleashed on the world.

As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, plunging the park into twilight, you finally met his gaze.

A cold glint flickered in your eyes, a stark contrast to the concern you so often feigned. "Ready for round two tomorrow?" you asked, your voice a low murmur that sent shivers down his spine.

He met your gaze with a defiant snarl, the remnants of his earlier admiration replaced by his usual fiery spirit. "Always," he growled, the words laced with a challenge that masked the strange flutter in his chest.

Standing up, you brushed imaginary dust off your clothes, ready to head home. "Alright then, be here at exactly 5:30 AM sharp," you declared, already turning to leave.

Just as you were about to take a step forward, a hesitant voice stopped you. "Hey," Bakugo mumbled, the word barely audible. He looked away, avoiding eye contact, a rare display of bashfulness from the usually explosive boy.

You paused, raising an eyebrow in question. "Yes?" you called out, turning your head to face him.

He remained stubbornly focused on the ground, kicking at a pebble with a scuffed shoe. Finally, he muttered out, "How come you aren't applying to U.A.? We both know you're more than strong enough to make it."

His words caught you off guard for a moment. A flicker of surprise crossed your features before you quickly schooled your expression. You took in his question, the concern laced beneath the bluster.

Was he... worried about you?

A slow smirk played on your lips, a sly glint in your yellow eyes that seemed to catch the dying light of the sun.  "Kacchan~" you purred, your voice dripping with a sweetness that sent a shiver down his spine. You sauntered back towards him, each step deliberate and calculated. "Are you asking me to accompany you to the prestigious, U.A. high?"

He flinched slightly at the nickname, his face burning a fiery red that rivaled the fading sunset. "Whatever," he scoffed, turning his head away in a vain attempt to hide his blush. "Do what you want, it was just a suggestion."

You stopped right in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his flushed skin. You tilted your head, batting your eyelashes at him in a way that would seem innocent to anyone else. But for Bakugo, who knew the depths of your power, it was a blatant display of manipulation.

"Well, truthfully, I wasn't planning on attending UA. Too much work, you know," you drawled, your voice a husky whisper. You trailed a hand up his chest, your touch sending a jolt through him. Reaching his chin, you gently tilted his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze. "But since you're such a good puppy," you continued, your voice smooth as silk, "I guess I can come."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You weren't just considering U.A.—you were doing it for him.

A strange mix of emotions flickered across Bakugo's face: surprise, a hint of something akin to gratitude, and a flicker of... possessiveness?

He opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out.

The silence stretched for a beat. Bakugo seemed frozen, caught between the flustered blush creeping up his neck and the urge to lash out with a defiant snarl. His mind, usually a whirlwind of explosive pronouncements, seemed to have malfunctioned under your touch and the unexpected turn of events.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a scowl etched its way back onto his face.  It was a weak attempt at regaining control, a facade that crumbled under scrutiny. He weakly moved his face away from your hold, the blush reaching the tips of his fiery red ears.  "'M not a puppy," he mumbled, the defiance in his voice barely a whisper.

But even through the scowl and the mumbled denial, you could see a flicker of relief dancing in his crimson eyes.

The confirmation that you'd attend U.A. with him, a decision you'd framed as a favor to him, seemed to ease a tension you hadn't even realized existed.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, the sound laced with amusement. You knew exactly how to manipulate him—how to exploit his volatile emotions to get what you wanted.

But for now, you were content to let him bask in the illusion of control.

"Alright, alright, Katsuki," you said, your voice playful. You reached out and ruffled his hair with a gentle touch, a gesture that would have sent shivers down anyone else's spine.

For Bakugo, though, it was a confusing mix of irritation and a strange sense of... comfort?

"We'll head to U.A. together then," you continued, your voice a smooth purr. "Just you, me, and the rest of those wannabe heroes."

☆

☆

The rhythmic scrape of cutlery against ceramic plates filled the air, the only sound breaking the tense silence that had settled over the dinner table. It was a rare night that your father managed to escape the clutches of work and share a meal with the family.

Your mother had gone all out, preparing his favorite meatloaf.

Despite her best efforts to spark conversation, the dinner table remained an island of awkwardness. Wino devoured his food in silence, his usual gruff demeanor amplified by fatigue. You picked at your own plate, lost in your thoughts.

The grueling morning workout with Bakugo still left a pleasant ache in your muscles, a stark contrast to the dull ache of boredom gnawing at your soul.

Deciding to take pity on your mother, you cleared your throat. "Hey," you announced, "I decided to I'm going to U.A."

A wave of relief washed over Mei's face, her eyes widening with delight. A bright smile bloomed on her lips, instantly chasing away the gloom that had settled earlier. "Oh, sweetie! That's wonderful news!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes as she reached across the table to squeeze your hand.  "I'm so proud of you!"

Turning to your father, she beamed expectantly. "Winnie! Aren't you going to congratulate your daughter?"

Wino, however, remained unmoved. He paused in mid-chew, raising his head from his plate to meet your gaze.

For a tense few seconds, your eyes, a startling yellow, locked with his bright green ones. A storm of unspoken emotions crackled in the air.

Finally, Wino spoke, his voice devoid of warmth. "How could I?" he said, his tone flat. "The kid's never shown any interest in being a hero before. What changed now?"

Your mother gasped, a look of hurt flickering across her face. "Wino!" she scolded, launching into a familiar tirade about the importance of encouragement and how negativity could shatter confidence.

You tuned out her rant, already anticipating your father's response. He wasn't lying. You had never harbored any real desire to be a hero.

The hero business, with its constant scrutiny and fickle public opinion, held no appeal. The childhood days of dressing up as heroes were long gone, replaced by the harsh realities of your true nature.

But then you remembered the glint in Bakugo's eyes when you'd mentioned attending U.A. A warmth spread through your chest, a subtle change brought on by your peculiar connection to the explosive boy.

You weren't averse to indulging your "puppy's" wishes from time to time.

Besides, you mused, spearing a piece of meatloaf; who knew? Maybe U.A. would be a welcome distraction, a chance to shake off the boredom that had become a constant companion.

A slow smirk played on your lips. This unexpected turn of events might just prove to be entertaining.

A/N: WHO READY TO GET TO THE MAIN STORYLINE AND COLLECT A HAREM OF SIMPS!?!

[rayshippouuchiha]

I have not even watched AssClassroom and still ur watch Wednesday has me hooked! I know snippets and about the ending (unfortunately) from YouTube shorts and Tumblr but ahhhhh!!!!

No spoilers about the ending though don't worry.

I have been contemplating a question though...

If an Izuku who had ranaway from Chisaki's lair with Eri in tow had been in Ass Class... How would have things gone???

Like Izuku is 'Saving' embodiment. So usually i would see his presence as a natural counter to Koro sensei or really anyone he cares about actually dying. He kind of just...breathes life into those around them. But there would be no way Pre U.A Izuku would be able to make much difference to canon, not when he still is naive about much of how the world works. Wouldn't question things he doesn't understand but has been conditioned since he was born as to be normal. Doesn't realise yet that heroes can be wrong. That heroes are humans, and that villains are people too. So what if things were spiced up?

Pre U.A Izuku has a nasty habit of suppressing his hurt and anger when it comes to himself. Can't even think of fighting back and winning. And has been hurt so much. Has been failed and abandoned by everyone around him since he was four and failed to manifest a quirk.

And then there is Eri. Who has never known kindness, has always been tired. But still finds it in herself to help the boy who breathes but looks dead, who was brought here after her, but has carried a weight of grief years in the making.

And then something changes. The moon gets destroyed, everyone panics, Izuku possessed by some unholy force seizes his chance, takes eri and gets the fuck out of dodge.

No where is safe. Hassakai is hunting them for sports, and one too many missed calls with the gang members have convinced Izuku that they are on borrowed time. They can't go to Heroes or police, one too many bribes and gazes that look through them but not at them, and the hero commission with their child soldiers (Izuku knows. Chisaki likes to rant) has them scrambling.

Except. There is an octopus. And there is a reward. There is an opportunity. There is a threat.

Izuku has never been able to fight back when it comes to himself. Can't think of hurting someone, bringing them the pain he was put through. Has always been too kind.

But.

Izuku also has a little sister now. A sister who for some reason sees him as a hero. A sister who saved him. A sister who wants him, who cries out at night, not from what Chisaki did to her, but out of fear that her Zuku-nii would leave her.

Like her mother did. Like her father did.

And Izuku who doesn't remember his father's face, but remembers his kindness. His love. Remember the sting and betrayal of screaming for him, not a hero but DAD. Understands.

Izuku doesn't like hurting others. Doesn't understand those who can kill others and laugh and live with themselves. But looking at the sleeping face of his baby sister cradled against him. He knows bone deep and heart deep that he is willing to cross lines he never would have imagined for her sake.

That he is willing to play the long con and sully his own dreams if it means his sister can be safe. If it means his sister can live. If it means he can be selfish enough to stay with the only family he has left.

His rage always suppressed comes surging forward like a tide. Filling him until he is nothing but a puppet dancing along to the strings of his grief, rage and hurt. Desperation incarnated in his endeavour to not lose anymore family, to keep his sister safe, to never be hurt again, to crush and incinerate those who dare to look down on him and hurt them, to watch people squirm and writhe and gasp under his blank gaze. He who no longer wants to be a hero, he who is dreamless, he who desires and needs control in his life. He who unknowingly resembles his father. He who is the child of the devil.

It's better than being a dekunobu with no limbs.

So now he is heading off to 3E, hiding in plain danger, a place where no one would expect him to be. He is going to cash in favors, make deals, learn... assassination.

And then after the octopus is dead, he is going to come for Chisaki.

Except. Things start to go awry.

Except Koro sensei cares.

Except Koro sensei learns, almost too late that there is a threat bigger than himself lurking around the edges, watching and waiting in amusement as his blood walks the same path as him.

OH Oh this is too good and I want to read it

[augustraine]

Smut for my best pookie question mark?

This might've been the most bizarre situation you've ever been in. Which is saying a lot for someone who was a child solider in a war. But here you were in your apartment, your roommate gone to her boyfriends place, hotboxing the living room with your ex boyfriend and the man you've had a crush on since your first year of U.A. If you were told about this blunt rotation back then you'd have cried laughing. But God were you thankful to see it. Iida wasn't as stiff as he was in U.A, and it was more than the weed in his lungs. He was currently laid back relaxed againstthe couch. Arms on the top of your sofa. His head was leaned back and his legs unconsciously spread. You took a hit while eying him. He was definitely feeling the effects if he was this open. You glanced at your past boyfriend Denki. He was a good boyfriend. A fun one. All your firsts. He was already looking at you with his head tilted. He wasn't an immature teenage boy anymore, he was strong with a body littered in scars from his quirk and his work. And his legs were also spread. And now maybe this was the weed talking, after all it takes a lot of smoke to hotbox a living room, but you can't decide which one you want to steal away to your room.

Denki laughed at you, noticing the battle in your head for each man. Now Denki was no idiot. He knew of your crush on the uptight class president. However the strangest thing is that he didn't find himself minding. He'd find you're eyes wander to Iida in the common room while in his arms. And he'd find himself staring Iida down too. Iida was a fit man, even in U.A. he was just so focused on becoming someone worthy of the title of Ingenium he never noticed the wandering eyes. He didn't realize he was why yours and Denkis relationship ended. He was genuinely saddened to hear it. You both can tell the other is thinking about the breakup when you pass the blunt to Denki. Your eyes never leaving each others. You had ended it. It was when you finally realized it was more than just thinking Iida was attractive. And Denki didn't deserve that. Of course you managed to say anything other than that. But he knew. Your eyes fell to his lips as he inhaled. You had stayed close through out though. And now in your mid 20's you wanted to kindle the spark between you again.

"Eyes up here" He said with a smile. You looked up, caught in the act. But you didn't say anything.

"Pass it to me again" Iida said rearranging himself to be closer to you two, "Please."

"Never expected you to be begging for a blunt class pres." You hummed. And if you didn't know he was high before you do now because Iida rolled his eyes. You hadn't been a class in 6 years, but everyone still couldn't help the urge to tease him like you were. Denki leaned back into his part of the couch, groaning as he got comfortable. And that's when you realized he was looking Iida up and down. Well shit. Maybe everyone can be happy. You tilted your head to Denki with a knowing look, even if it had been half a decade you still knew what that look on his face meant. Now you just need to see what Iida thought of the two of you.

Iida thought he was fucked. He was sweating from the heat but also the looks you and denki have been sending each other. He felt like he was intruding on something that should be for your eyes only. First impressions go he thought you guys were annoying. His tune changed when you guys got together though. His mood soured whenever he was in a conversation with you and Denki joined in. His friends told him he had a crush on you, and maybe he did but you had a boyfriend. And he had a title he needed to work to earn, and so he let it go. He would never admit to sighing in relief when he heard the news. And he felt instantly evil about it. So now to be in the same dark, smokey room as you two. We'll let's just say he's nervous. And ever since graduation Denki has been pushing his buttons in a different way. When you two turned to him with smiles on your faces he feared he miscalculated. He was now a pawn in your games. He inhaled deeper than he should've to ease his nerves, causing him to cough.

Seeing Iida cough you quickly passed him a glass of water from the table. His thanks was so quiet you couldn't even hear it. And thats when you saw the red from his neck to his ears. He had the sense to be looking down to not show the worst of it. Denki got up and sat so close to Iida that their thighs were completely touching.

"Someone get this away from me." Iida muttered. Denki took it from his fingers and gave it to you. Not knowing when to quit you breathed in while watching Denki put his arm around Iida, eyes narrowing when he started whispering in his ear. Iida tried to say something sternly before stopping in his tracks completely. He covered his face with one of his hands. But he didn't think to cover his erection.

"Thereee we go Iida." Denki said sliding his other hand to Iidas thigh. " I knew you'd be into this. I mean you were into her when we were kids yeah? We were into you too."

Your eyes widened. Never knowing about Denkis feelings. You got up to the other side of Iida, tilting your head at him. He looked at you guilty before what denki said sunk in. He looked at you too shyly, it was extremely out of character but then again him smoking was too.

"Is that so Iida?" You whispered, teasing him. He didn't notice the undertone though when he answered.

"Hes speaking the truth." He looked away only to be trapped in Denkis gaze.

"Why don't we make up for that?" Denki said leaning in.

And instead of Iida saying no, he closed the space. And fuck was it hot. While denki was rough with want and years of watching, Iida was strongly romantic. And you were feeling left out. You held his bicep before you starting kissing his neck. And the groan he let out gave you goosebumps. Iida was sandwiched between two of the hottest people he'd ever seen. With you basically on his lap and Denki with his knees on the couch grabbing his hair and your thigh, he felt like he was in heaven. It was so so hot in here. Iida didn't want to but he had to break the kiss to breathe, and that's when you sat fully on him and turned to make out with Denki. This was a motion you two had mastered awhile ago, but with Iida here it felt so new and thrilling. You grinded down on Iida while you and denki held each others faces in a desperate grip. Iida groaned and his head fell back. He gripped your waist before grinding back at you making you gasp. You broke the kiss to throw your head back and Denki turned to start biting Iidas neck.

"Its too hot in here." Iida mumbled mindlessly. You both hummed in response before taking your shirts off. Both men groaned when they saw you didn't have a bra on.

"Missed this." Denki quickly said before grabbing your breasts. You moaned grasping his head as he leaned to take one your nipples in your mouth. Iida was never one for even porn but watching you he thought he was gonna cum in his pants not being touched. You and denki had started moving in ways you had a million times before. Iida started to get self conscious before Denki popped off,

"Wanna try?" And Denki pushed his head to you. You gripped Iidas shoulders while Denki took his pants off. He was so rock hard kirishima would've been jealous.

You whispered into Iidas ear, "think you can take both of us?" And he groaned sending more pleasure down your spine. He nodded but looked like a lost puppy.

"Here you go." Denki brought his hand to his dick and head falling back when Iida started pumping. Turned out Iida was a great multitasker. Grabbing your waist grinding while jerking off Denki. It kept going until you gasped finally being pushed over the edge. Iida quickly followed, ruining his pants. The image of this cause Denki to cum, paining Iidas hand and your thigh.

"Shit" You panted coming down.

" You can say that again." Iida agreed. He gently picked you up and put you next to Denki before getting up. You were both too fuzzy to know or care what he was doing. But he came back with a washcloth for the two of you. He kissed both of you before laying down.

"Dude your poor pants." Denki snickered.

"Oh don't start."

You smiled between them before falling asleep.

[tabbyrocks]

It's pretty telling that a lot of Bakudeku fics are set in AUs featuring at least one item off this list:

Midoriya always had a quirk (so therefore no quirkless discrimination)

Bakugou never bullied Midoriya

Inko is abusive/neglectful...for some reason & Bakugou is protective...for some reason

Hisashi is in the picture but he's abusive & Bakugou is protective...for some reason

Class 1-A or Dekusquad are assholes & Bakugou isn't...for some reason

Midoriya & Bakugou didn't meet until U.A. (so Bakugou never knew he was quirkless, etc...)

Midoriya never went to U.A. (usually involves pro hero Bakugou and civilian Midoriya)

Quirks never existed

I could go on.

The point is, a lot of Bakudeku fics either completely change their pre-canon dynamic, drag others down to build Bakugou up (to the point where it's massively OOC), or they make it so Bakugou got everything he wanted while Midoriya never got the chance.

The mha fandom has always tried to sugar coat Bakugo's actions. it been thing they do for ages. like, they know what he did was bad. they know that it hurt Izuku. but instead of just finding something healthier to ship they twist around his story to make Bakugo's abuse towards Izuku more "valid". Like claiming his mother abused him as a child or other things like that, when in reality its canon that he was spoiled as a child, and the only reason he acts how he does is because he's just a bad person. or they just completely change his character or his background. it's almost like the subconsciously know their ship is odd.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 2 - Shake

Hitoshi stares at his phone. It’s late, so much later than it should be considering he’s a student and only fifteen, but it’s not his fault Present Mic’s show runs so late. And besides, it’s only once a week, and one night is hardly enough to explain the bags under his eyes anyway.

It’s not as if Hitoshi normally sleeps, so it doesn’t matter if he stays awake for this or not.

He just—

Hitoshi needs to call once the caller segment goes up, because he has done so for almost a year now and it’s the only way he knows how to try and get help.

Sure, Aizawa is teaching him after school more days than not, but he’s gruff and short with Hitoshi and he has never offered more than training. Of course he told Hitoshi to come to him with anything, but he kind of has to. He’s a teacher.

Hitoshi has overheard some of the Class 1A students talking about how Aizawa gave them his phone number in case of emergencies, and since he didn’t do the same with Hitoshi that must mean that he doesn’t quite consider Hitoshi a student of his yet, and that’s fine.

It’s totally okay.

It only means that Hitoshi can’t call him, now that he’s safely tucked away in his room, his side stinging with every breath he takes, his stomach churning with hunger and his wrist hurting enough to almost make him fumble the phone.

It’s totally fine.

And Mic-sensei, he’s teaching the entire school, not just one class like Aizawa, so he hardly has the time to care for individual students, which is fine and all, but Present Mic—he always says that no matter what, people can call in for his radio show and he’ll do his best to help them.

That’s an offer that’s open to Hitoshi as well, and has been since even before he attended U.A. It’s just—random, who gets put through to Present Mic and so far Hitoshi didn’t have much luck with that.

It’s been a year of calling weekly and not once has he been put through which might just be a sign from the universe that Hitoshi doesn’t deserve any help but he refuses to believe it. Maybe someone else needs the help more, Hitoshi always reminds himself when another week passes where no one picked up his call and then he tries again next week.

He has to try again, always, because if he doesn’t—

Hitoshi can’t give up. Not yet. But he also can’t ask his teachers for help because they didn’t sign up for any of this bullshit and so this is the only thing he can do.

And so he calls a number he by now knows by heart and then waits. And waits and waits and waits.

He has ‘Put your hands up’ running lowly in the background, listens to Present Mic talking to caller after caller and he very much tries not to be bitter when it’s all just so inane.

There are people with real problems out there besides what colour to buy your couch in. Hitoshi sometimes wonders how Present Mic even has the patience to deal with all of this, but he can’t dwell on that for too long because suddenly, there’s a click in the line.

“Welcome, listener, you’ll be the next in line, so get your question ready!” a clearly pre-recorded message from Present Mic sounds in his ears and for a split second Hitoshi forgets how to breathe.

This has never happened before. He has never gotten so far.

This is it.

He just has to tell Present Mic that things are not alright at home, that he’s tired and scared and hurt and that he needs help and Present Mic will deal with it.

Hitoshi knows because sometimes there are callers like him, people who are desperate and without any kind of hope left and Present Mic takes them off air while he talks to them and he promises that he always, always helps.

He has to help Hitoshi as well.

“What’s up, listener? You’re on air, so what’s the topic for today?” Present Mic’s voice suddenly rings in his ear, slightly layered by the radio still playing, and there’s a beat of silence before Hitoshi bursts into tears.

It’s not quite what he had planned, but when the radio switches to a music segment and Present Mic hums lowly in his ear, he guesses this is one way to get across that he’s in dire need of help.

“It’s okay, listener, it’s alright. I’ve got you. What’s going on, how can I help?” He sounds genuine in his wish to help and Hitoshi has waited so long for someone to say that to him, it only makes him cry harder.

“Okay, you get it all out, no problem, we have time, but just—are you in any immediate danger?” Present Mic asks, his voice urgent and still perfectly audible even over Hitoshi’s sobs and it’s enough to prompt him to answer.

“No,” he gasps out and he hears Present Mic letting out a long breath.

“Alright, that’s good then. Think you can tell me a little bit about what’s going on with you?”

“It’s—Mic-sensei, it’s me. Shinsou Hitoshi,” he manages to get out and he hears how Present Mic sucks in a surprised breath.

“Shinsou? What’s going on, kiddo, what’s happening?”

“It’s just—I’m so tired,” Hitoshi sobs out, burying his face in his knees and he knows this is such a dangerous thing to say, knows the implications of it, but he’s just—he’s tired.

“Shinsou, can you take a deep breath for me?” Present Mic asks him and he must be doing some exaggerated breaths on his end because his breathing is all Hitoshi can hear for a moment.

It’s hard to match his breath to it, still, but he somehow manages it enough to get a semblance of control back.

“That’s it, you’re doing great. Shinsou, what do you mean when you say you’re tired? Where are you?”

“In my room,” Hitoshi starts with because there’s a frazzled edge to Present Mic’s question, as if he’s imagining Hitoshi on a roof or something and it’s not that bad. Not quite, not yet.

“And are you safe there?” Present Mic asks next and that makes Hitoshi huff out a weak laugh.

“At the moment, yeah. My foster father is asleep,” he mutters, closing his eyes and pressing the heel of a hand against his face.

“Does his current status often go hand in hand with how safe you are?” Present Mic carefully asks and Hitoshi presses his phone closer to his ear, wanting to drown in the worry he can hear in his voice.

“Yeah,” he admits because this is why he called, this is why he’s doing this at all and he needs Present Mic to know. “It’s not good here.”

“Are you hurt, kiddo?” Present Mic softly asks and new tears fill Hitoshi’s eyes.

“When am I ever not?” he whispers, and instantly feels bad when Present Mic bites back a noise. “Bruised ribs and wrist. I’ve had worse.”

“That’s a very concerning thing to say, kiddo,” Present Mic mutters. “You said foster father, right?”

“Yes?”

“Okay. Okay, Shin—Hitoshi, I’m going to come get you out of there, alright? I have a foster license, and my husband does as well, and as pro heroes we can take you in under the Emergency Foster Protocol.”

There’s a ringing in Hitoshi’s ears that doesn’t quite make sense and he must lose a little bit of time because the next thing he knows is Present Mic urgently calling his name.

“Hitoshi? Hitoshi, kiddo, are you there? Talk to me!”

“I’m here,” he faintly says, because where would he even go, but it takes a while to blink everything back into focus.

“Are you with me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear what I said?” Present Mic wants to know and Hitoshi shakes his head before he remembers to use his voice.

“No. No, I’m sorry, I—” Panic grabs him, because what if this is enough to make Present Mic angry? Hitoshi called him and cried all over his radio show and now he’s not even listening to him.

“Breathe, kiddo, you’re doing so well,” Present Mic soothingly says and this time Hitoshi calms down much quicker than before. “If I remember correctly, you’re not living in Musutafu, right?”

“No, I don’t,” Hitoshi mutters and Present Mic hums. “Still in Shizuoka Prefecture but just—a more rural area.”

It has made it harder, on nights his foster father locks him outside of the house because in the city there would at least be places for him to go. But of course nothing in Hitoshi’s life is ever easy.

“Okay, that’s alright. It might take me a while to get there, though. Can you give me your address?” Hitoshi rattles it off and he hears Present Mic writing it down before he makes an unhappy noise. “It’ll take me at least forty minutes to get to you but Shouta is patrolling your area tonight. He can be there in twenty, maybe less.”

Hitoshi has never heard of a hero with that name and his confusion must be evident even over the phone.

“Sorry, Aizawa. He can get you in half the time it would take me.”

It’s a sensible offer, Hitoshi is distantly aware of that, but the thought of Aizawa saving him from this makes Hitoshi suck in a harsh breath. Whenever Hitoshi fantasised about being saved, about a hero coming to get him, it’s always been Present Mic, with a volatile voice quirk, deemed dangerous,  just like him.

It can’t be Eraserhead, it can't be Aizawa. It just can’t be.

“No, no, please—” Hitoshi gasps out, his tears stealing away most of his voice but he forces himself to go on. “It has to be you.”

“Okay, kiddo, okay. I’ve got you.”

~*~*~

Hizashi helplessly listens to Hitoshi cry over the phone even as he sends off his address to Shouta’s phone with a curt Go. Now. accompanying it.

He knows Shouta will have questions, but those will have to wait for a moment, because Hitoshi is still crying.

“I will come to get you,” he promises him, because there is no doubt about that, it’s just that forty minutes are incredibly long and Hitoshi has admitted to only being safe because his foster father is asleep.

Who knows what’s going to happen should he wake up.

“But kiddo, I can’t stay on the phone with you while I drive and I don’t feel good leaving you on your own. So here’s the deal, okay? You with me?”

“I’m with you,” comes the shaky reply and Hizashi huffs out a harsh breath.

“I’m going to patch you through to Aizawa.”

A new sob filters through the line and Hizashi quickly goes on.

“He will ask if you’re safe and you will answer him honestly. He won’t talk to you if you don’t want that, but you’ve got to stay on the line, do you understand?”

“I do,” Hitoshi gives back, though he doesn’t sound too happy about it.

“If you think, at any point, that you are no longer safe, I want you to promise me that you’ll tell him. He’ll still be closer, probably, so it’s important that he knows.”

He’ll definitely be closer, because Shouta is already halfway there anyway and he’s going to circle the perimeter no matter what, but Hitoshi doesn’t need to know that right now. For some reason it had almost sent him straight into a panic attack when Hizashi told him that Aizawa would come for him, so this is not something he’s going to bring up again.

“Can you do that, Hitoshi?” Hizashi asks and holds up a finger to his intern when she’s about to patch Hitoshi through to his personal cell phone.

“I think so,” Hitoshi gives back and it’s not quite the decisive answer Hizashi would have liked, but it will have to do for now.

“Alright. I’ll call Aizawa and then I’ll patch you right through to him, so don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” Hitoshi mutters and Hizashi almost feels bad when he mutes the call with him, but he has to talk to Shouta.

He picks up after the first ring.

“What’s happening?” he asks and Hizashi can hear the wind whip past in the background because of course Shouta is already on his way.

“It’s Shinsou,” Hizashi says. “He’s not safe at home, his foster father is abusing him. It’s his address, but Shou, he doesn’t want you there. I’m on my way, but you’re closer.”

“What the hell is happening?” Shouta mutters under his breath and Hizashi wonders the same.

How could they have ever missed this?

“I’m not sure but we have to get him. I told him we’d take him in under the Emergency Foster Protocol.”

“Of course we will,” Shouta immediately snaps out and Hizashi vows to kiss him real good when they get a moment to himself eventually.

“Don’t go in, don’t engage. I’m going to patch him through to you, but I don’t think he wants to talk. I told him you’ll ask if he’s safe and then leave it at that, if he doesn’t initiate conversation. He promised to tell you if his current status changes, though.”

“Fuck. Is he hurt?”

“He claims bruises but I don’t know, Shou,” Hizashi admits because this entire Situation is not inspiring hope in Hizashi.

“Okay. Patch him through and then get going. I’ll stay around his house, out of sight. I’m good at that.”

“You are. Alright, see you soon,” Hizashi says and then goes back to Hitoshi’s line.

“Kiddo, are you there?”

“I’m here,” is the quiet answer he gets and Hizashi goes cold because what reason could he have to whisper now?

“Are you still safe?” Hizashi forces himself to ask and he holds his breath until Hitoshi’s answer comes through.

“Yes, just—tired,” Hitoshi repeats again and Hizashi closes his eyes.

He sounds like it, too, and Hizashi knows that he’ll have nightmares about the kid standing on a ledge for a while.

“You can sleep soon. I called Aizawa, and I’ll patch you through now. I’ll be there in forty minutes or less.”

“Don’t speed, I hardly qualify as an emergency,” Hitoshi mumbles, faint traces of humor in his voice and Hizashi has to bite back against the vibrations of his quirk for a moment.

“Of course this is an emergency, kiddo. I’m coming to get you now, okay?” he softly asks once he’s sure his voice will hold and when Hitoshi hums he puts him through to Shouta’s phone before he darts out of the radio station, trusting his interns to finish the show for him.

It wouldn’t be the first time and it’s likely not going to be the last and Hizashi really has more pressing things to think about.

Hizashi pushes his car as fast as he dares to, and his hands shake and shake and shake no matter how tight he grips his wheel. He hates abuse cases because they always just hit too close to home and to think that one of his kids is going through something like this is almost unbearable.

He should have noticed. They should have all noticed, Hitoshi ticks all the boxes, now that he thinks about it. In foster care, voice activated mental quirk, always real quiet in class, never asking questions. Shouta even mentioned some slow healing injuries he was never quite sure were from training and they still missed this.

They all failed him.

The windows of his car start to rattle slightly and Hizashi notices with a start that he’s humming his quirk all this time. He grits his teeth and cuts it off because if all of his windows shatter it will delay his arrival at Hitoshi’s place and that is unacceptable.

He can be angry at himself later; right now the kid needs him and Hizashi will make sure to be there for him.

It takes him twenty-nine minutes to arrive at the address Hitoshi gave him and Hizashi knows that Shouta will have his head for driving like this, but it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that they get Hitoshi out as soon as possible.

Shouta drops down from a nearby house before Hizashi even parks the car and he does nothing but thrust his hand in his face, basically stabbing him with the phone, which Hizashi immediately takes.

“Hey, kiddo, you still there?” Hizashi asks and he hears Hitoshi flail at the other end, so maybe he fell into a light doze.

“I’m here,” is the slurred answer he gets and new worry settles in his stomach.

“Is that a sleep slur I hear or have you been hit in the head?” he carefully asks and feels Shouta tense next to him.

“I—don’t know,” Hitoshi answers. “Might have hit my head once going down, not sure.”

Fuck, they are looking at a possible concussion then, too.

“Alright, we’ll get it all checked out once you’re out of there. Do you want me to come in or are you going to come out?” Hizashi asks, turning his gaze towards the dark house.

It would probably be best if Hitoshi came out, just so they can all avoid waking his foster father but Hizashi is not gonna lie and pretend that socking him in the face wouldn’t feel real good right about now.

“This is still Aizawa’s phone,” Hitoshi mutters over some rustling and Hizashi briefly glances over at Shouta.

“Yeah, it is, kiddo. He’s been here to make sure nothing more happens until I arrive. He’s been keeping an eye and ear out for you."

“He cares?” Hitoshi asks and the naked hope is almost too much for Hizashi.

“Of course he cares, Hitoshi. Of course he does. Remember the husband I mentioned? That’s him and he was immediately on board when I told him we’re taking you in. There was no question about it.”

“You—still want to do that?”

“Yes, we do.” There’s a disbelieving pause on the other line. “You want to hear him say it, too?”

“Please,” Hitoshi breathes out and Hizashi hands the phone back over to Shouta.

“Kid, of course I care. There is no question that you’re going to stay with us, even past the emergency fostering,” Shouta says without missing a beat and Hizashi reaches out to squeeze his hand once.

He can’t quite hear what Hitoshi is saying on the other end but Shouta nods.

“I’ll stay at the car but Hizashi is waiting for you at the front door,” he says and immediately Hizashi jogs off, covers the short distance to the door, anxiously waiting for Hitoshi to come out.

He hears Shouta’s voice rumble behind him even though the words don’t quite make it to him but he’s glad that Hitoshi has Shouta at the moment. Hizashi trusts Shouta to yell should something go wrong while Hitoshi makes his way over, but he stays calm and composed so Hizashi guesses the foster father must not be a light sleeper.

Or Hitoshi is just that quiet.

It’s just another minute or two until the door opens and Hizashi reaches for Hitoshi before he can even consciously think about it, which could have been bad, Hizashi is distantly aware of that, but the moment Hitoshi sees him, new tears stream down his face and he stumbles into Hizashi’s arms.

“I’ve got you, kiddo, you’re safe now,” he mutters as he presses Hitoshi to his chest, simply holding him and thanking all the deities that nothing worse happened to him today. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?” he whispers after a moment and Hitoshi nods, though he doesn’t quite let go of Hizashi, as if he’s afraid that he’s going to slip through his fingers at any moment.

“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” Hizashi promises him, but he doesn’t make him let go, because in all honesty, he feels better like this, too.

They make their way back over to the car where Shouta is just pocketing Hizashi’s phone and Shouta quickly scans Hitoshi head to toe before his face goes all soft.

“Hey, kid,” he softly says and Hizashi feels Hitoshi shudder. “Let’s go home, alright?”

Hitoshi trembles some more, right until Shouta holds an arm out for him.

“Come here, kid,” he offers and Hitoshi stumbles forward, crushing into Shouta’s chest much like he did to Hizashi mere moments earlier, but he doesn’t quite let go of Hizashi’s hand as he does so.

“We’re here, you’re safe,” Shouta promises him just like Hizashi did and it makes Hitoshi sob.

Shouta holds him tighter for a moment, catching Hizashi’s gaze over his head.

“I informed Recovery Girl,” he mouths at him and Hizashi nods.

Concussions are not to be taken lightly, and he feels better knowing she’s coming over to check Hitoshi out tonight.

“You ready to go, kiddo?” Hizashi asks after a moment, squeezing Hitoshi’s hand, who shakily entangles himself from Shouta’s embrace.

“I am,” Hitoshi roughly says, wiping his face with his sleeve but he still doesn’t let go of Hizashi’s hand.

“Shou, you’re driving today, destroy the paint job and you’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week,” he threatens as he drags Hitoshi to the back seats because it’s clear he’s not going to let go of him any time soon.

“That’s a punishment for you, because I do that more nights than not anyway and it always brings you out as well, since you hate sleeping alone,” Shouta shoots right back, clearly taking up on Hizashi’s attempt to lighten the mood. “And it’s always you waking up with a crick in your neck.”

“Because you keep falling asleep on me in the most horrible positions,” Hizashi complaints as he slides in next to Hitoshi, buckling them both in, before he leans closer, whispering conspiratorially to Hitoshi. “He’s like a cat, and cat rules sadly apply to him, meaning you don’t move when he sleeps on you.”

It makes Hitoshi huff out a faint laugh and the tears finally stop falling, which is all Hizashi really wanted, so he counts it as a win.

“You’ll see, he’ll fall asleep on your lap too eventually and then it’s no longer funny,” Hizashi promises him because there is no way in hell that they are ever letting go of Hitoshi now that they have him and so he’ll come into the dubious pleasure of being Shouta’s pillow, too.

His words are enough to make Hitoshi’s eyes go big with uncertainty and Hizashi moves into the middle seat, just to be able to tuck him back into his arms, even as he keeps half an eye on Shouta and his poor attempts to drive.

“I’ll stay long enough for that to happen?” Hitoshi whispers, as if he’s afraid of Shouta to hear but Hizashi immediately nods.

“You’ll stay forever, if we get a say about it,” he promises him, because they will not let Hitoshi go back into the system that so clearly already failed him. “You’ll stay with us now.”

This time Hizashi kind of expects it when Hitoshi bursts into tears again and he wonders just how long the kid has bottled all of this up. He fears it’s longer than he really wants to think about.

But that is a conversation for way, way later; for now, Hitoshi is as safe and sound as he can be, all things considered and he’ll be even better once Chiyo worked her magic on him.

And then Hizashi and Shouta will make sure to give him the home and family Hitoshi deserve.

[come-away-with-me87]

The Art of Love Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here

******

Today, you were getting a new student. Her file said that her name was Eri; odd, she had no last name. Her file also stated that she has been through extremely traumatic events for the majority of her life. You teared up reading her file. For a seven-year old girl's life to be nothing but traumatic was heartbreaking. You were already looking forward to being of help in the healing process of young Eri.

As if she was reading your mind at that moment, the young girl you assumed to be Eri came into your classroom holding the hand of a tall, blonde young man. You looked down at her; she was quite a striking little girl. She had pale bluish-white hair, bright red eyes, and had a small horn sticking out of the right side of her forehead. You assumed that had something to do with her Quirk, which was called Rewind, according to her file. Her file didn't go into detail of her Quirk, but that didn't matter to you; many of your students had their own unique Quirks.

You then looked up at the young man whose hand she was still holding, and introduced yourself to both of them as Miss L/N. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss L/N. My name is Mirio Togata. I'm a student at the U.A., and I help look over little Eri here." You smiled over at him; you got the aura from him that he was a kind soul. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mirio." You then took the opportunity to crouch down to be at Eri's eye-level, to which she hid behind Mirio.

"Sorry about that, she gets a little shy in new settings," Mirio explained. You warmly smiled at Eri, saying "don't worry, Eri, you're in a safe space here, I promise." You then put your hand out to her to see if she would take it. She looked up at Mirio as if she was asking for permission, and he smiled at her, telling her it was okay. Eri gave you a small smile, and put her little hand in yours. You gently grasped her hand, and asked her "would you like to see where you'll be sitting?" She nodded her head in response. You took her over to her assigned seat, between two other girls who you thought she could potentially make friends with.

After getting Eri settled, you walked back over to Mirio, and gave him a smile, "thank you for bringing her in today. Will you be the one picking her up after school, as well?" Mirio replied, "ah, I will not, I was just asked to bring her here for her first morning. Her primary caretaker, Mr. Aizawa, will be the one you will typically see. He's a teacher at the U.A. He had an early training session with the first year students, which is why he asked me to bring Eri here today, but he will be the one picking her up after school ends today." "I see," you replied, "well, thank you for bringing her in. I'm very grateful to the U.A. for taking her under their wing."

You and Mirio bowed to one another, saying your goodbyes. On his way out, you saw Mirio give a small wave and smile to Eri, to which she smiled and waved in return. She was comfortable with that young man; that made you happy. That meant she truly was in good hands at the U.A.. After Mirio left, you turned around and smiled at your students, informing them of Eri's arrival. You asked them all nicely to say hello to her, to which they obeyed. Eri blushed, but smiled and gave out a small "hello" to her classmates.

"All right, class, now that introductions are over, shall we get started?" you asked them, to which they all nodded or said yes in agreement. Their assignment today was to color in pre-drawn mandalas. This is something you have been wanting to try with them for a while. Your teaching style with art was typically more therapeutic, but since it was Eri's first day, you wanted to start her off with something more simplistic so she could express herself to her heart's content.

The school day went by without a hitch, and suddenly, you found yourself at the end of the school day. Eri was very quiet and kept to herself for the day while coloring in her mandala, but that was to be expected. It was only her first day. Before your students left for the day, you had them write their names on their mandalas, so you knew which one belonged to which student. The majority of your students took the bus to and from school since they didn't all reside in Musutafu, but you had a small number of students who lived close by, so their parents would typically drop them off and pick them up.

The usual parents came in and picked up their children, when it was eventually just you and Eri left. You picked up a stool and took it over to where Eri was still sitting so you could sit next to her while she waited to be picked up. Just as you were about to ask Eri how her first day went, you heard a small knock at the door. You and Eri both looked over, and she absolutely beamed at the man standing at the door. He was tall, had medium-length black hair, dark eyes with a scar under his right eye, and wore an all black outfit with some sort of grey scarf.

"I'm very sorry I'm running a little late, I promise to not make this a habit," the man said. You couldn't help but stare; this man was striking and mysterious, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw him. No one has had that kind of effect on you in years. You shook your head of these thoughts, and smiled over at him, "no worries at all! I was just about to sit with Eri and ask how her first day went. I'm assuming you are Mr. Aizawa that Mirio spoke of this morning?" He walked over towards you and bowed, "I am, but you may call me Shouta." You typically even had the parents call you Miss L/N, but for some reason, you introduced yourself as Y/N L/N. "But you can call me Y/N."

******

To be continued...

******

Tag list: @lili-pond ; @jaguarthecat ; @big-denki-energy

[harukamitsuki]

I need Bakugou stans to realise that it's not that I hate him as a person. It's that I hate him as a character.

A lot of my favourite characters are unrepentant assholes, or assholes who are set to or have already been redeemed. Vegeta from DBZ, Ouma Kokichi from DGR: V3, Dio from JoJo, Laxus from Fairy Tail, Greed from FMA: B, Bill from Gravity Falls, and the list that goes on.

If a character is a terrible person, that's fine by me. But if the author tries and fails to redeem them, yet still acts as though they are suddenly this amazing person, that's when I have an issue with it.

Bakugou was originally written to be a minor antagonist, and that would have been fine, if Horikoshi didn't suddenly go "I drew him crying so imma fix him".

Redemption is such a complex yet simple thing to do. So when you try to do it and fail spectacularly, um, yeah, I do not enjoy that character or your writing.

That is my main issue with Bakugou. I do not think he deserved any redemption, not because he's a bad person, but because there is nothing to convince me that he could change.

He gets one scene where he goes, "boohoo I lost and everyone is stronger than me" then cries, and that's supposed to be enough for him to become a better person? That is nowhere near enough.

There was no moment that made me believe he genuinely regretted and took accountability for the abuse he put Izuku through in middle school.

"He changed!" That's not my issue. I don't care that he's changed. I care that I don't believe in it. If there was a plausible reason as to why he changed, then I would be fine with it. Maybe I'd even enjoy him!

The fact that he's changed doesn't mean shit if it's not believable.

"That was in middle school!" Okay. This one pisses me off the most. That was a year pre-canon? Oh, wow, I guess that's completely fine! It's not as if characters are the way they are based on their past. Oh, Itachi killed the Uchiha clan before canon! Okay, maybe comparing a massacre to bullying is a bit unfair. Still, just because it happened a year ago, it doesn't mean it never happened. It doesn't mean that he's changed considerably.

"Izuku doesn't have any lasting damage and forgave him!" And? Just because your friend forgives their bully, it doesn't mean you have to forgive them. And, again, I do not believe Bakugou's apology was good in anyway. He was trash-talking Izuku, blaming All Might for Izuku's behaviour, and didn't accept any culpability for what he did to him. He didn't tell anyone else what he did to Izuku. Also, if Izuku really didn't have any lasting damage from the bullying, then why did Bakugou's apology make him calm down? If he didn't care about the bullying, then why is he so relieved by the apology? BECAUSE HE WAS AFFECTED.

"Bakugou was being abused!" ... NO HE WASN'T!! Mitsuki is not abusive. Yes, she hit him round the back of his head. After he threatened her. Anyone with Asian parents can tell you that her hit does not hurt. Not only is it somewhat normal in Asian families, but it also doesn't hurt. We have no evidence that she is abusive. Horikoshi knows how to set up abusive families, as seen with the Todorokis. This not that. Either way, even if she was, being abused doesn't mean it's okay to abuse others. You can hurt without hurting others.

"It's the school and teacher's fault!" No, it's not. Part of the fault lies with them enabling him, but Bakugou is already fifteen when the series starts. His mother clearly doesn't agree with his attitude. The school is only partially to blame. Bakugou should have learned by himself what is right and what is not. In fact, he clearly does know considering he doesn't want any of that stuff on his records in case U.A. rejects him.

Again. I don't care if he's a terrible person. I care that he's a terrible character.

So the next time someone says that I'm stuck in Season One, take a moment and think about what you're saying. Bad people in fiction are entertaining. Bad characters are not.