#sage reads bnha

[brushes-of-sage]

Just bringe read through the Paranormal Liberation War Arc and I was not ready for those emotions

[fandomanimatic-tournament]

Fandom song animatic tournament: Bracket 2 Side B

The Bro Duet - Written by Alexander Sage Oyen

"Well, no homo But that's the day I fell in love with you No homo But that's the day I knew you were mine Looking into your eyes made me realize No homo But your lips touching mine Changed my life"

Cabinet Man - Lemon Demon

"You can't win me, I can't be beat I won't hurt you unless you cheat You can't see me behind the screen I'm half human and half machine"

Remember that we're voting on how Iconic they are for ANIMATICS, not for the song itself. In order to make things fair, the tone and mood of the song should not affect how iconic it is (for example, a serious song should not be considered more iconic than a joke song just because it's serious)

Propaganda and animatic links of the songs under the cut:

The Bro Duet - Written by Alexander Sage Oyen

Propaganda:

No Written Propaganda Submitted

Animatics with the song:

Ace Attorney Narumitsu

Bungo Stray Dogs Ranpoe

Siki K Kubokai

The Click and One Topic

BNHA Kiribaku

Cabinet Man - Lemon Demon

Propaganda:

Cabinet Man is such a big song in the past few years and along with a lot of other Lemon Demon works is incredible and fitting for a variety of animations. Mfs turn this song about an evil arcade cabinet into their blorbos being epic and I’m all for it!!!!!!

Animatics with the song:

Hermitcraft NPC Grian

South Park Leslie

DSMP

Little Nightmares 2

Your Turn To Die

Please be cautious and read the title, description and warning cards on the animatic videos if you decide to watch them. If you've got specific triggers I'd recommend even more caution when watching animatics of fandoms you don't know, since sometimes canon-typical themes don't get warnings.

Please keep in mind that I don't know all the media and fandoms of the animatics provided as examples and I don't have the time (nor the will) to research them all. Don't come into my notes or my ask box complaining about them being included, I will simply block you. If a ship animatic included is about an adult and a minor, do tell me and I'll take it out of the post

ALSO keep in mind that I don't know all the artists submitted; in fact, even if I do know them I do not know absolutely nothing about them as people (I do not have twitter nor tiktok) and I could not POSSIBLY have the time to research ALL of the artists' controversies and what came of them so PLEASE don't flood my inbox with the artists' entire crime list.

[healerscharm-a]

@.healercharm rules and info!!

🌼⸝⸝˚₊・one ; minors dni, mun is twenty-one and will not write with anyone below the age of 18

🌼⸝⸝˚₊・two ; i am non-selective and oc friendly!! if you want to interact go ahead (even if we aren't mutuals!) drop me a message if you ever want to plot <33

🌼⸝⸝˚₊・three ; nsfw is a strict no go! nsfw interactions or threads are completely off the table for all my oc's. i just don't feel comfortable writing it!

🌼⸝⸝˚₊・four ; i am more than happy to plot any potential ships and develop character relationships with all of my oc's. however with sage i'm a lot more selective/picky. bloom and emi are open for discussion though.

🌼⸝⸝˚₊・five ; please be patient with me, some days i may struggle to get out a reply. give me time, and if its been more than a week for a thread you can let me know/remind me

🌼⸝⸝˚₊・six ; please let me know if you want to drop a thread. i sometimes take hiatuses or absence from here and i may come back to continue on a thread- however if you'd rather it be dropped please let me know!

🌼⸝⸝˚₊・seven ; more rules may be added as time goes by! but for now these are all i can think of T-T

ABOUT MUN BELOW

.: NAME - keys .: AGE - 21 .: PRONOUNS - she/they .: TIMEZONE - bst

helloo friends 💗💗 thank you for reading all the way down here, i appreciate it! i look forward to getting to know and writing with you!!

other accounts/muses ochako uraraka - @uravityxo multimuse bnha - wip

[opalinewish]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚:

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ minors/ageless blogs dni ࿐ྂ

Hello friends (⁠♡⁠) my name is Opal, I'm twenty and my pronouns are she/they !! it's absolutely lovely to meet you all! I'm new to RP community on Tumblr, however I used to roleplay a few years ago! So I'm somewhat semi-new so please be patient with me !! please note this is a BNHA rp blog , my muses are below !!

Please may you take your time to read and accompany yourself with my rules ( you can find them here ) all I ask is that you please respect them and give them a read before interacting (⁠♡⁠)

main muse- bloom kaede ( she has a healers charm ) and she knows no evil .

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ twenty years old * , she/her ] ࿐ྂ

other muses - sage yumeno ( is the luckiest yet unluckiest ) person alive , who relies on their quirk to survive daily life

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ twenty-two years old, they/them ] ࿐ྂ

canon muses - denki kaminari ( @electrichus ) BLOG WIP

*can be verse dependant !

[myyandereblog]

Grand. My current include a band named Malice Mizer, various anime & video games (Pokémon, WuWu, Genshin;Black Butler, Nanbaka, Land of the Lustrous, etc), and writing.

I plan to stick around, so please, feel free to call me whatever you wish. (A few names I go by are Crow, Hikaru, Lyre, Sebastian - whatever best suits you.)

-🖋️

Well nice to meet you crow I go by Sage and I like anime too mostly MHA/BNHA, SDS, OHSHC, Demon Slayer, and JJK and those are the main ones I am in I also play video games from time to time like genshin and I just downloaded Wuthering waves

I like to write mostly fanfiction though and reading is big one for me but it mostly ends up being fanfiction

[palbabor-writes]

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it    

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow. 

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito​ & @kugutsuu​ for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!  

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on. 

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class. 

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date. 

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings. 

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’ 

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away. 

Fuck. 

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors. 

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students. 

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now. 

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.” 

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess. 

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously. 

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number. 

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago. 

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class. 

Ugh, why is this so stressful? 

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too. 

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing. 

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you. 

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall. 

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine. 

He’s watching you. 

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms. 

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness. 

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass. 

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his. 

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either. 

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged. 

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied. 

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class. 

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his. 

Wait. Sexy? 

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you. 

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit. 

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium. 

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race. 

Maybe it’s those eyes of his. 

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed. 

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.  

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips. 

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon. 

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares. 

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs. 

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.” 

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare. 

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God. 

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade. 

No. No, no, no, no. 

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA. 

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces. 

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips. 

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door. 

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves. 

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you. 

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence. 

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea. 

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N). 

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright. 

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk. 

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line. 

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow. 

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression. 

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult. 

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair. 

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name. 

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again. 

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question. 

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.” 

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move. 

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands. 

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin. 

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him. 

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him. 

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin. 

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead. 

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.” 

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that… 

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.” 

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side. 

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.” 

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand. 

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.” 

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin. 

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes. 

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully. 

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath. 

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences. 

Wait. Didn’t you just…  

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed. 

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter. 

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice. 

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back. 

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips. 

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.  

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs. 

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold. 

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”  

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing. 

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?” 

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless. 

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you. 

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–” 

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements. 

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.  

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis. 

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N). 

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet. 

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright. 

“What is the cell membrane?” 

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain. 

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance. 

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer. 

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you. 

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin. 

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.” 

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.  

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips. 

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior. 

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.   

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine. 

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus. 

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision. 

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather. 

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait… 

There’s a faint clicking sound. 

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper. 

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.  

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade. 

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise. 

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts? 

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit. 

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.  

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg. 

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by. 

“Hold still,” he commands. 

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit. 

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form. 

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?” 

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face. 

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you. 

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance. 

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think. 

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–” 

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips. 

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass. 

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need. 

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness. 

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice. 

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head. 

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again. 

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms. 

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good. 

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face. 

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting. 

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips. 

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release. 

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs. 

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release. 

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders. 

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you. 

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy. 

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love​, @libiraki​ <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here. 

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

[royal-ruin]

mha/bnha fic recs (part 2)

dabi/hawks recs this time! ah, this is a long one. someone should save me from all of this hotwings brainrot. mha/bnha fic recs part 1 personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise.

dabi / hawks (takami keigo / todoroki touya)

*little brother, we are all grieving by jurassicqueer (gaybirdkid) (~30k)

When a teenager is dragged into a police station by someone with a self-proclaimed de-aging quirk, it seems too improbable that one of the most notorious villains in Japan could actually be reverted to a scrawny sixteen year old.

But then the blood tests come back, and the quirk labs hand in their results, and it seems that Dabi really is a teenager again- and claiming to be the dead Todoroki Touya, of all things.

OR: Touya never expected to wake up a wanted fugitive, but with his luck, he's hardly surprised.

Through the dark side of the morning by StrikerEureka (~8k)

Hawks manages to keep his baby a secret from Dabi for a grand total of two months. Once Dabi finds out about him, he starts coming around a lot more often, usually at night. These are snippets of their time together.

-

“Hawks smiles as he helps him to stand on wobbly feet, both thumbs lost in a tight-fisted grip. Toma coos at him and Hawks coos back. To his surprise—and Dabi’s, judging by the look on his face—Toma then turns and makes the same sound at him.

Dabi huffs a breath and reaches out a hand to stroke over Toma’s fuzzy head.

“I don’t know how to make that sound, kid.”

i don’t usually read mpreg, but i actually really liked this one. i’d recommend giving it a shot.

Who let Touya Teach!? (Spoiler: No One) by QuoiGhost (~2k)

Touya (Mainly to spite his dad) has been come an underground hero know as Pyre. As an underground hero, he knows Aizawa, who is currently covered in bandages after the USJ attack. Yet he still wants to go teach his class?!

"Just take a day off," Touya pleaded.

"No."

Aizawa tried to get get and shove past him. Touya, who was having none of that, knocks him out instead. It's fine, he'll teach the class instead. How hard can it be?

-or-

Underground hero Touya subs for Class 1-A.

this one is really short, but it made me snort my water out.

darling, thank god it’s this universe we’re in (and you can annoy me as much as you please) by juurensha (~83k)

Todoroki Rei divorces Endeavor and moves all four of her children into a small apartment next to a boy with wings as red as the hair of her eldest son.

todoroki rei adopts hawks. really slowburn, lots of slice of life with touya and hawks being idiots about each other. it’s the longest fic i’ve read in a while (@ my commitment issues) but it was really good. very slowburn tho. oh, and dabi never becomes a villian.

what am I supposed to do with that mental image by bluebelle (~14k)

"Her decision to make," Dabi's mouth says without his permission. Wait, what the fuck? This is definitely encouraging this awful relationship, now. Hawks looks at him like he's never seen him before. "All you can do is offer people what you have, and they decide to take it or leave it. If it's too much for them, fuck 'em." Hawks stares at him for a long moment with something that looks like awe before Twice breaks the silence.

"Wow, relationship advice from Dabi! How rare!" Dabi flips him off and turns back to the soup he's been working on. "And it's awful! Nice going, onii-chan!" Dabi stifles a flinch at that, carefully keeping his eyes trained on the pot. No one's called him 'onii-chan' in a decade.

"I'm younger than you, idiot," he says with no real bite.

"Yeah, but you ooze 'big brother,'" Twice says sagely. Dabi doesn't trust himself to turn around. He has no idea what his face is doing, but he's sure it's revealing. _____

Dabi disapproves of Hawks wanting to date Fuyumi, so obviously the answer is to seduce him. (He is not jealous, he’s just horny. The timing is a complete coincidence.)

enemies to lovers and there’s a bit of explicit smut.

Feels like home by Anonymous (~4k)

Red-tailed hawks mate for life, and Keigo, with his bird quirk, is no different. Choosing a partner would have probably been a complicated matter; that is if his instincts hadn’t already decided for him when he jokingly agreed to marry Touya back when they were children. Back when he had no idea what he was engaging himself into, and when Touya was still alive.

Now a hero, Hawks has resigned himself to never experience love, but things get a thousand times more complicated when he has to infiltrate the League of Villains and his instincts suddenly go crazy for Dabi of all people.

Or the fic where Hawks is oblivious to Dabi’s real identity, but his bird instincts are not.

if we could always be so new by jihnari (~12k)

Hawks panics. "Okay, alright, jeez, you caught me, I..." Hawks hesitates, gulps; tumbles forward, "Have no idea who you are." The eyebrow is still raised. "...Sorry?"

Crispy Cream doesn't say anything for a long moment. The mental pressure it creates makes Hawks want to babble, but he manages to hold his tongue this time.

"I can't tell if you're screwing with me or what," Crispy Cream drawls.

"It's the 'or what'," Hawks offers.

Hawks gets hit with an amnesia quirk. Dabi gets begrudgingly involved.

*Grass Is Green (Except For When It's Not) by Numanum (~17k)

When someone else walks through the door, the staring contest dissolved with his Handler as the winner after Hawks whirled around to assess the new threat in the room. Juice drips from where his grip had crushed the juice box, further staining his clothes and making a mess on the bar top. Hawks continues to blink owlishly at the newcomer. The person, who seems to be made of shadow, rather than it clinging to him, looks at him with mild interest, a towel and a bar glass in his hands. His eyes move to address Hawks’ Handler.

“He’s very,” the man pauses, as if choosing his next words carefully, "small.”

His Handler grunts in irritation, and Hawks almost chimes in that he's sorry, he knows he supposed to be bigger.

A hesitant pause.

“Was it-?”

“Fuckin’ drop it,” his Handler spits out.

“Ah, I see,” the other hums tactfully, and wisely drops the topic. Hawks thinks that his eyes are pretty, the color of a flower that grows in the part where he meets Touya sometimes, but he doesn’t tell him. He's not supposed to meet anyone, and he's not supposed to speak without permission.

Or: Hawks get's de-aged and the league takes care of him

commission is trash, league finds out about hawks past with the commission.

Winter Flower by umathe (~16k)

It all transpires in a heartbeat with a flurry of flashing lights, entrapping Hawks before he could introduce himself - before he could sing the Hero Commission’s sales pitch - before he could even gasp. As his senses shut down one by one, there’s a passing thought that thank goodness he landed prior to being pulled into this vision; except, the next thought is fuck - of all people?

At least his assigned contact into the League seems just as surprised, beautiful turquoise eyes framed by horrendous scars bulging out wide.

Or: when you meet your soulmate, you’re forced to relive either the best or worst day of their lives; be it their past or future, fate knows best.

*Dabi’s Contact List by caiussw (12.5k)

Dabi’s system for naming his contacts was convenient for many reasons. Unfortunately, it also had many downsides. Such as now, when the League was scrambling to pack up everything and switch bases because their entire building had been compromised.

(or, 5 times dabi changed hawks’ contact name and one time hawks did the same)

crack and humor

*Tickets to the Todoroki Trauma Drama Are Buy 1 Get 1 Free by miniongrin (~24k)

“Fuyumi would be charmed, if she weren’t suddenly so sad. The day doesn’t seem as bright, suddenly, at the unexpected reminder of Touya. “I… don’t think I can help you practice,” Fuyumi says quietly. “I lost my twin a long time ago.”

Natsuo shifts uncomfortably next to her. Satomi gasps. “Oh—oh, I’m so sorry—“

Masako must misunderstand, because she lights up, excited. “Oh, I know! I can help you find them again!”

Her hands close over Fuyumi’s before she can protest, and the world flips upside-down until she’s suddenly somewhere else.”

When Fuyumi gets hit by a quirk that body-swaps twins, she wakes up somewhere else—despite the fact that her twin died a decade ago. That’s confusing enough on its own, but why is she surrounded by villains?

Dabi, meanwhile, keeps accidentally freezing things, but he thinks that’s a fair response to being called a name he hasn’t heard in a decade.

To Drink A Thousand Needles by Ihavecoldhands (~32k)

“My reason for helping the League of Villains? Well, a long time ago, I had a friend.” Hawks says, smiling widely at Kurogiri. “It’s a common story. Bullied kid meets another bullied kid, they become each other’s first and best friend, bullied kid #1 finds out bullied kid #2’s abuser is actually a hero, and so bullied kid #1 decides that hero society needs to be destroyed.”

Hawks first meets Todoroki Touya when he is eleven years old, on a humid afternoon by a concrete staircase.

He meets the villain Dabi eleven years later, on a chilly evening by a decaying building.

for i am sick of love by Markovia (~1.5k)

Keigo wakes at midnight to a familiar sensation. It feels like pressure on the back of his brain, an increasingly noticeable itch that he’s unable to scratch.

Touya is kissing his feather again.

warning: heartbreaking :’(

*Time™ to Go Feral by Anubis_2701 (~8k)

Sir Nighteye's quirk was a deeply useful one, with a rich history of helping solve cases, assist investigations and offer support to friends and acquaintances. It was, absolutely, not intended to be misused and abused for something like this.

"Can you explain why you’ve seen fit to consort with villains?”

“Consorting? I’m not-”

“Okay, fine.” Mirai huffed, impatient. “Why are you fucking villains-”

Hawks made a noise like a car trying to restart. This was going well.

(In which Nighteye survives, inadvertently discovers a conspiracy, emotionally adopts a small child and an utter dipshit, and fights the Hero Commission in hand to hand combat...completely by accident)

crack and humor

Reddit, AITA? by nocturnalgf (~9k)

I (23M) faked my own death when I was 13. WIBTA if I didn't tell my boyfriend?

(A story told through Reddit posts)

[justadekusimp]

Hello! Can I request a BNHA and AOT matchup???

My name is Irene

My Pronouns are she/they

My MBTI is INFP (I don't think this is the most accurate for me but its close enough lmao)

I am a huge jokester, i have social anxiety (im pretty good at hiding it though) i am a major Empath and extremely curious, so much so that I'd get in trouble as a kid because I asked to many questions, im as stubborn as I am awkward (both of which are a lot)

I do a lot of photography, graphic design, drawing, reading, and working out. I also do some videography but not enough to call it a hobby.

I am 5'6, I am decently muscular, I have olive skin and Hazel eyes, my hair is a shoulder length wolfcut and its dark brown on top and a dark red underneath.

My likes are: working out, anything in the horror genre, video games, drawing, chocolate oranges, sage green, dyed hair, cats & dogs (especially my dog Ricky), alternative rock or any kind if music really, dance, basically anything considered to be creative.

My Dislikes are: eggs, Texas drivers, pick me's, people who bash on stuffed animals, the color yellow, the sound of people brushing their teeth, and loud areas.

My favorite color is Sunset Orange, favorite music genre is Alternative Rock.

I am one of seven kids, two older and four younger (ages range from 4-32)

Id prefer male characters but if you think a female character would fit better then I'm 100% okay with that.

Thats pretty much it, thank you and have a fan-freaking-tastic day!! <3

Heyo,

Sorry for taking so long.

These are gonna be a bit lazier cuz I'm smashing them all into a short period of time.

Also- I WILL NO LONGER BE DOING MATCHUPS AFTER DECEMBER 30'TH.

BUT, I Will be doing compatibility match ups In it's place.

SEE MORE INFO HERE.

But-

Here you are Irene!

Katsuki Bakugo

Wow, you managed to pull him. Not an easy task.

I could kinda tell from the start that Bakugo would be your MHA match, but you are also able to consider Kyoka Jiro or Hanta Sero as your MHA match.

Contrary to popular belief, I don't believe that Bakugo would like someone who is exactly like him.

I think he would be happy with someone like you.

Someone stubborn yet, empathetic.

Reiner Braun

Um, so- have fun with him.

It's Season 4 Reiner btw

Not sure what to tell you for this one.

Lemme check my chart real quick.

Alright, so you understand each other deeply like, you just get each other, I don't think you would start an official relationship, but you would definitely be a thing.

Hope you enjoyed your matches Irene!

Thank you for your request!

[cyber-phobia]

In the BNHA ATLA someone said that Izuku studies old bending techniques right??? SO WHAT IF he reads old scripts about the "cold fire" and rediscovers lighting (which is green due to spirit shenanigans)

With the royal family gone there wouldn't be anyone else who could bend lightning or teach the forms, makes sense that the Fire Sages would have them documented and make them available to the "new royal family" 👀

[cpidsworld]

‧₊˚✩ vex → izuku's #1 fan <3 → 19, she/they/he

your resident mentally ill bisexual who gets attached way too soon

MORE ABOUT VEX !!

my favourite colour is sage green. i flirt alot and use alot of petnames so please lmk if ur uncomfy with it. i will melt if you use any and all petnames for me. give me clit kisses please.

YAYS!

misty places, animanga, tea, art, writing, long talks at 3AM, museums, when people make playlists that remind them of me, sad music, cuddles & headpats

NAYS!

sexism, racism, transphobes ect..., police, toxic masculinity, waking up, school, writers block

ANIMANGA!

aot, bnha, tokyo rev, devilman crybaby, naruto, jjk, hxh, sirius the jaeger, hq, free, owari no seraph, banana fish, demon slayer, sk8, ybc, balance unlimited

currently watching: one piece, mha s6

currently reading: re- reading tokyo rev, mha

FAVES!

aot: erwin, marco, jean, reiner, levi

bnha: deku, katsuki, tomura, touya, shouta

hxh: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio, meruem

hq: seijoh, matsukawa, asahi, aone, daichi, ushigushy, shoyo

tokyo rev: mikey, mitsuya, takemichi, draken, hakkai, inui, rindou, sanzu

others: naruto, tengen, nanami, toji, rin, ash, ryo, mika + more :)

KINS!

oikawa toru, katsuki bakugou, reki kyan, ashy lynx, ryo asuka, atsumu miya, tsukishina kei

[brushes-of-sage]

I have many feelings about Aoyama rn 😭

[reincarnateslime]

More Tensura x BNHA Crossover AU notes!

-Rimuru is born into a family of heroes, specifically those with Dragon Quirks! Veldora and Milim are his brother and sister. More info on their family later--he gained Great Sage from his mother, who has Wisdom King Raphael.

-Rimuru is the black sheep of the family, considering he is a slime rather than a dragon... however, his family loves him very much, and they don't care that he is a slime.

-Legally, his quirk is "Slime". However, Great Sage is technically his real quirk.

-He meets Shizue before he applies for UA. His decision to apply to UA stems from his wish to avenge Shizu (though he applies for the gen-ed course rather than the heroics course).

-His family is supportive of him wishing not to be a hero. They worry about him because he is only a small slime (the yougest), and would have worried more if he had chosen to become a hero, so the choice to enter gen-ed was a relief to them.

-Despite this, he is still majorly overpowered and becomes something like a vigilante, helping out when necessary (defeating Chisaki...) shielding his identity using Shizu's mask. And also the leader of the Kijin Yakuza clan. Somehow. Don't ask him what happened, it just. Sort of did.

-This is a crossover/au type of thing, so all your favourite characters are here! Izuku is here and Rimuru saves him. Izuku knows of Rimuru's true identity and tries to befriend him. Rimuru is sweating nervously.

-Veldora attends U.A as well, a third year in the heroics course. One of the Big Four! However, he actually doesn't give a shit about being a hero, and would much rather be home reading manga with Ramiris. Despite this, he does take his role as a hero pretty seriously, and does his fair share of work. Most of the time.

Let me know what y'all think! I have a lot more ideas to write down and explain, especially relationships between Rimuru and the BNHA cast. I think Aizawa and Rimuru would have a grand old time...

[lotti-lyric]

Hihi! Can I request a MHA matchup please? I'm 16, he/it, and im bisexual <3

I'm 5'5, I have straight, short red hair with brown roots starting to come in. My eyes are hazel and they pretty big, I usually but eye liner on to make them appear more slender. I'm pretty pale, and I have light freckles all over my body. I usually wear more tight fitting cottagecore/dark academia clothes, or anything that is sage green!

I'm and INTP. I'm more introverted, but I tend to be very talkative and friendly to those I know and like. I consider myself to be a pretty approachable person as I usually have a smile on my face, and I am a optimistic realist who sees the most probable outcome but tries to look at it in a positive light. I'm pretty funny, artisitc, charasmatic and cuddly, I love physical touch between myself and people I consider my friends, little things like holding hands or hugging. I can be naive and bothering at times, when I don't get enough attention I get overly clingy and annoying. When I dont receive attention after asking I can become distant and irritated, not understanding why no one is paying attention. My mood changes pretty quickly, one moment I will be sad the next I'm beaming ear to ear. I'm impatient and i get very paranoid at times.

I'm someone who tends to find comfort in different kinds of media and then obsess over it for months. I've been obsessed with Harry Potter (dont support JKR) and BNHA for a very long time now, they are definitely my main interests atm. I love to draw, read, and play video games. One of my favorite things to do is go to the mall or just walk through thrift stores, as seeing all the clothes make me feel excited and sparks my creativity. I dislike heat and hot weather, my favorite season being fall and my favorite holiday being halloween. It also doesnt help my love for the fall season that my birthday is in October. I love spicy and savory foods, but I do occasionally get a sweet tooth and eat all the chocolate or strawberry shortcake in my house. I am a night owl and have a hard time wanting to get up in the early mornings. My favorite flowers are Snowdrops as they are so delicate and they remind me of my childhood. School is fairly easy to me, and I always get A's with the exception of a B or two. I love helping out my teachers or fellow classmates, but tend to stay away from larger groups, eating my lunch in classrooms or in the courtyard. My love language is physical touch and quality time!

I think thats it, thank you sm! I hope your day has been good so far <3

charlotte’s interlude 💗- hey!! i hope you’re having a good day!! ofc! i hope you enjoy this love, take care of yourself!! thank you, have an incredible day!!

warnings; swearing, paranoia, food

i match you with…

Uraraka Ochako!! (aka Uravity)

- this for you both!! ^^

- she has got it sooooo bad for you holy shit

- loves ur makeup but loves ur big eyes!!

- big eye club whoop whoot!!

- matching cottagecore matching cottagecore m-

- she’d never ever force you into a conversation but once you’re comfy with it, she’s sooooo happy!! you always have the best, energy filled discussions about the little things!!

- THE SMILES ITS TOO BRIGHT 😩 i need some sunglasses guys

- even before you two are together, you’re joined at the hip!! cuddling, leaning against each other during lunch outside, holding hands, laughing and cheering together

- not getting enough attention is never an issue with her!! she knows just when you need her and just like that she’s there!!

- she’s really amazing at quelling your paranoia, assuring you of what’s real and making sure the smile ends up back on your face!!

- when you’re into something, she’s into something!! you have so many inside jokes after u binged all the HP movies

- You, using a strand of her hair: aVEdEE KaDEbEE

- she is WHEEZING

- you both just walk around malls a lot, picking out little fits for each other and having fun in general

- ur upset? expect a beaming uraraka at the door with tissues, cute videos games, loads of sweets, and snowdrops just for u!!

[makeste]

I'd love to read some Naruto analysis by you!

lol I might not be the best person to ask about this, tbh. Naruto happens to be one of the series I mentioned last week where I eventually stopped reading because of things related to the timeskip. it basically got to the point where I realized I was forcing myself to keep reading it, and that everything I had originally loved about it was basically gone. it had all of the problems I mentioned about timeskips -- characters splitting up (AND characters staying together, but us missing out on their development); fights becoming boring; the series becoming way darker and killing off more than a few characters for shock value; and the clumsiest attempt at a romance plot I can recall reading in a manga. I stopped reading it sometime around chapter 400 or so, which would have been around 2009 I believe. the series ultimately went on for another 300 chapters and didn’t end until late 2014, and I have little to no idea what went down in those chapters, and no real interest in ever going back to finish it. I’m not saying it was objectively bad, because I can hardly judge what I haven’t even read. but it just stopped having any type of appeal to me.

regarding Naruto and Sasuke’s relationship, the best way I can describe it (and be warned this is gonna get kind of long lol) for someone who’s unfamiliar with Naruto but knows BnHA, is that it’s basically Bakugou and Deku’s relationship, if both of them were orphaned at a young age, and in Bakugou’s case he was specifically orphaned by his evil older brother who murdered their entire family in front of him. and so Bakugou basically grew up being all “the FUCK is up with that, I am going to KILL THAT DUDE,” and so he went to ninja school to learn how to be a badass so that he could avenge his family. and meanwhile Deku went to ninja school because he was lonely and wanted to be Ninja President when he grew up so that people would finally want to be his friend. and so they both learned to become ninjas, and then they graduated at the ripe old age of Twelve and started ninja internships under ninja!Aizawa’s tutelage along with a badass girl ninja whom ninja!Deku had a massive crush on even though she herself was not-so-secretly crushing on ninja!Bakugou.

and even though ninja!Bakugou and ninja!Deku didn’t get along at first, they started doing all of the usual Rival Things like competing with each other over who is better at running up trees sideways, and their relationship gradually got a little bit better. and then ninja!Bakugou all of a sudden saved ninja!Deku’s life OUT OF NOWHERE (like this boy really had his own “my body just moved on its own” moment all of 27 chapters into the series) and nearly died, and ninja!Deku went into rage mode because of it, and so that was awesome. and so it basically went on like this, with both of them continuing to do rival things like egging each other on to become stronger and talking about how much they want to fight each other and stuff. all that good shit.

anyways though, but where it started to go south was when ninja!Bakugou, much like actual!Bakugou, eventually caught the attention of one of the villain characters who started being all “HEY KID, JOIN ME AND I’LL HELP YOU BECOME STRONG ENOUGH TO KILL YOUR BROTHER.” and at first of course ninja!Bakugou was all “wtf, no”, which, good. BUT THEN it all really started to go to shit when ninja!Bakugou’s Evil Brother came back to town because he wanted to kidnap ninja!Deku, but ninja!Bakugou found out about it and was all “OH HELL NO” and went and found his bro to try to kill him. but seeing as ninja!Bakugou’s brother was one of the strongest characters in the series, and ninja!Bakugou was LITERALLY A CHILD, to make a long story short the Evil Brother basically kicked his ass and was all “nyah nyah nyah what’s up with that you’re still so weak” and subjected him to a little hypno torture session for good measure.

and so basically, ninja!Bakugou spiraled into a mental funk and eventually was all “I GUESS I’D BETTER GO FIND THAT VILLAIN FELLOW AFTER ALL” and RAN AWAY TO GO BECOME EVIL. and ninja!Deku found out about it and went after him and they had a HUGE DRAMATIC FIGHT, but ultimately ninja!Deku lost, and ninja!Bakugou knocked him out and spent some time staring at him sadly and longingly in the rain before shuffling off. and basically after that is when the timeskip happens, and ninja!Deku and ninja!Bakugou spend three years training and then at that point ninja!Bakugou’s character starts to go completely off the rails and he’s out here genuinely trying to kill all of his old friends for Reasons, and at that point I was basically done with him and it was a whole big “YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BRING BALANCE TO THE PLOT, NOT LEAVE IT IN DARKNESS” thing, and I eventually just quit out of annoyance lol. smdh.

anyway so yeah. and after that I don’t really know too much about what happens. they basically have a whole Star-Crossed Enemies thing going on where ninja!Deku keeps trying to turn ninja!Bakugou back to the good side, even after he literally declares war on their entire country and kills a bunch of people lmao. and it’s supposed to be inspiring I guess, because he never gives up on his friend no matter what. and I think eventually it does turn out all right, or at least bittersweet, from what I’ve gleaned.

but I’m not gonna lie, for me everything I loved about the series was in that pre-timeskip relationship that the two of them had. and honestly, BnHA is such a fix-it in so many ways that I sometimes wonder if Horikoshi (who also grew up on Naruto, millennial that he is) didn’t feel the same way about it. like, there are almost specific things about it that he goes out of his way to “fix.”

first and foremost, unlike Sasuke, Kacchan point-blank refuses to join up with the villains who try to recruit him. still one of my favorite parts of the series honestly. this one specific plot is so reminiscent of where it all started to go wrong in Naruto, and Horikoshi subverts the shit out of it. there’s all this buildup to it, and everyone is all “oh shit is Bakugou really going to turn evil??”, and then when the moment finally happens, Bakugou doesn’t consider their offer for a second. there is no doubt in his mind. he’s a hero, end of story. there’s so much conviction in him, so much determination. god I just love it so much.

Naruto and Sasuke also have their version of a Therapy Fight, pre-timeskip, in which Sasuke challenges Naruto to a fight because he needs to prove to himself that he’s not weak. Sasuke is clearly hurting during this battle (this is just after his encounter with his Evil Brother, and I mean the fight literally takes place on the rooftop of the hospital he was recuperating in), but unlike Deku, Naruto never takes any notice of this. and unlike Bakugou, Sasuke keeps his feelings all bottled up inside him, and so basically they both just get swept up in the Rivalry and wind up nearly killing each other. and again just like in BnHA, Naruto and Sasuke’s fight also gets interrupted by one of their teachers; but unlike All Might, Naruto and Sasuke’s teacher doesn’t give them any sage mentor advice or make sure that the two of them are in a good headspace afterwards. and as a result Sasuke leaves that same fucking night to go join up with the villains. basically it’s almost the exact same Shounen Rival Throwdown, but with completely opposite outcomes. it’s almost uncanny.

and last but not least, unlike Kishimoto, who gives Sasuke his “sacrificing himself to save his rival” moment barely half a year into the series and then basically never refers to it again, Horikoshi spends almost 300 chapters building up to Bakugou’s own version of that moment, so that when it finally happens, it feels earned. not to say that I don’t like the Sasuke moment in chapter 27 of Naruto, because twenty years down the line and it’s still honestly one of my favorite scenes. but I do think Horikoshi’s version of it was ultimately much more satisfying. when Sasuke saves Naruto’s life, you get the sense that he was conflicted as to why he did it. but when Bakugou makes the sacrifice play for Deku’s sake, he knows exactly why he’s doing it, because he’s spent the last 285 chapters going through all of that character development and realizing that Deku is important to him, and realizing that he wants to atone for how he treated him. and so to me that moment is all the more meaningful because of it. definitely a highlight of the series.

anyway, so I’m not sure any of that actually counts as analysis lol, but there you go. fwiw, pre-timeskip Naruto (pre-Shippuuden I should say, although the manga never really made a distinction like the anime did) was and is still one of my all time favorite series. but to my mind BnHA is an improvement on it in almost every way, and with the BakuDeku relationship in particular it’s almost wish fulfillment lol. finally I get to see this childhood-friends-turned-rivals relationship play out the way I always wished it had. that’s basically what I mean when I say it feels like therapy lol. anyways it’s good stuff.

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Twelve

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :P

-> Word Count: 4.2k

-> Warnings: talk abt breeder farms, cooking/killing a bunny lol

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat @zphilophobiaz

People pass by Y/n, becoming a sea of faces. All she could think was how she would get Mina back too. She would do anything to get Mina back. It seemed that it had become her centennial project. She wondered if she would ever just have the people who had become her new family all together, or would she die still looking for one.

“Where did they take her?” Y/n asked again. The huge boys hug and mess with each other’s hair. She wanted to shout but Bakugo saved her the trouble.

He looked around, “Where’s Mina?”

“Hunters got her two days ago. She went looking for Y/n and I heard her screaming at the edge of the field. I couldn’t run. They took her in a truck.”

“I’m so sorry Kirishima.”

He shook his head, “Y/n you went for food after you went for medicine to save me. None of this is your fault. We’ll get her back.” He looked at Bakugo and smiled. “I can’t believe you’re alive man.”

Bakugo ruffled Kirishima’s hair again, “You too shitty hair. You should have died a long time ago with your survival skills.”

Kirishima laughed, “Mina.”

“We need to get her back shitty hair.”

Kirishima nodded. Y/n couldn’t pretend that everything was warm and fuzzy.

She shoved him, “So how did you end up here? Why didn’t you stay at the farmhouse in the barn bunker?”

“I tried to go after them. I went over the hill and broke the branches like you told me. I knew you’d find me.” He shook his head at Bakugo. “She’s like a fucking terminator.”

Bakugo laughed, “I know.”

Kirishima fixed his hair, “Anyway, I came here yesterday. They all know you Bakugo.”

Bakugo shrugged, “I made friends at camp shitty hair.”

Y/n hated the way he called him shitty hair. She hated Bakugo in a horrid way. She wished he was at the breeder camp instead of Mina. Him and his girlfriend in the shorts. They have their mini reunion. She turned away and walked to the nearest small tent. She looked in the flap. A younger looking guy was asleep inside. Half his face was burnt. She walked from one small tent to the next, until she found one with a man with blond hair holding a pen and looking at a map that was spread across a table.

“Are you Monoma?” He nodded, but looked at Y/n suspiciously. “I need to know where the closest breeder camp is.”

He chuckled, “You aren’t thinking about volunteering are you? The food’s not that bad here.” She doesnt laugh, instead she looked at the map. She didn’t know how to read maps. She added it to the list of things her father should’ve taught her.

“My friend was taken. I need her back.”

He started laughing again, “What do you plan on doing?”

She looked up into his periwinkle blue eyes and stare him down, “I’m going to get her back.”

“Look, I get you’re upset but there is no getting them back. They go in and nine years later they get a nice house in the city. It’s not a baf gig. They get healthy food and a place to sleep. Your life here is harder.” She felt her face change. He put his hands up defensively, “Look we have bigger fish to fry than worry about one girl at a breeder farm.” He turned his back on her and looked at the wall of the tent where other maps were hung. She felt her fingers twitch. She wanted to pull an arrow. She left the tent disheartened and lost.

“Y/n where’d you go?”

She looked up at Bakugo and Kirishima walking toward her. She scrunched up her face and walked away from them both. She didn’t know how to be dramatic. She felt the need burning inside of her, but she didn’t physically know how to get angry without using her hands. She walked to a group of ladies who were standing around a fire.

She smiled sweetly and looked at the one who looked most like her mother did, “Hi.”

“Hi sweetie.” The rebellion people were nice.

“Do you know where the nearest breeder camp is?”

She frowned, “Yeah.” She looked over at a dark strawberry blonde who had a scar along her mouth, “Beth where was that camp that you all saw not far from here?”

“South east, over two small mountains and a ghost town. Used to be a place called Licoln there. Stay on the outskirts of that place.”

“Thanks so much.”

“You aren’t trying to go there, are you?”

Y/n shook her head, “No way. Just wanted to know where my friend went. Her nine years is almost up.”

The lady with the scar laughed bitterly, “Honey she aint coming back out here to shit in a ditch. She’ll get herself a nice place in the city. I hear they even got air conditioning again.”

A lady with a t-shirt with a big tongue on it laughed, “Oh girl, what I would do for air conditioning.” They all laughed and it made Y/n grin. She walked away from them and went back to the small tent. The man looked less than pleased to see that she was there.

“Really, you’re back again. Look I’m not sending a bunch of men to their death over some girl.”

“I’m not asking you for a thing. I just want to see the map.”

He held his arm out at the one on the table, “Have at it.” She looked at the compass on the map.

“Where are we?” He dropped a finger onto the map next to a blue line. She dragged her finger southeast to the place that said Licoln. She looked up at him, “Which way is south east from here?” He pointed to the back of the tent where the other maps were. He was blocking her view of them on purpose. “Thanks.” She started to walk in the direction he had told her.

Her quiver wasn’t very full. Normally she would make arrows once a month but she hadn’t had a chance in the last month. Nothing had been the way it would have been back at the cabin. She thought about the moment she stood at the door as Mina knocked outside of it. She remembered the regret. She saw Kirishima and Bakugo and started to walk faster. She didn’t know what to say, but running away from them seemed like a pretty good idea. Kirishima still has a limp, but they move quickly.

“Y/n wait up,” Kirishima shouted. She wanted to be alone. It figured the only boys she’s ever liked had to be friends. Her mom would have been proud. She too had a thing for friends.

Fingers bit into Y/n’s arm and spun her around.

Bakugo towered over her, “What are you doing?” He looked annoyed.

She pulled her arm away from him, “I’m going to find her.” She looked at Kirishima, “Stay here and get better. That leg isn’t going to heal with you walking around so much.” He looked hurt.

Bakugo grabbed her arm again, “Y/n we aren’t going to let you run off half cocked. We need a plan.” She felt angry, maybe it was because she liked them both or maybe it was because they’re not running after Mina, like she expected they would.

She glared at Kirishima, “When you fell in that holse she did the bravest thing I have ever seen anyone do. She told me that she didn’t care if I shot her but I had to come find you.”

He shook his head, “We need a plan.”

She pointed south, “There’s a three day hike, we can plan on the way.”

Bakugo’s grip on her arm tightened, “We’ll be down a mountain and in the woods alone with no resources when we find her. What plan can you come up with there?”

Y/n shook her head again, “I’ve made it this far without anyone.” She pulled her arm free and took a step back, “I don’t need either of you.” She felt something in her stomach. She should’ve grabbed food. She started her hike. She realized she not only had a plan but that she was starving. She heard their footsteps behind her.

“She’s really stubborn.” Kirishima tried to whisper, but Y/n could hear him.

“I noticed that. How’s the leg?” Y/n made a face but didn’t look back at them.

“Good. She did surgery on it. I don’t think I’ll ever win the Boston Marathon if it comes back in style.” Bakugo snorted, Y/n wanted to laugh, but she was pissed off.

“Mina been a handful?”

Kirishima laughed, “Oh my god. The year she started the road to womanhood was the beginning of the end. Oh my god it was so bad.”

Y/n felt her face flush with heat. She remembered getting her first period and cringed. She had thought she was dying for a few days. She had to read an encyclopedia on health in order to find the answers she had been looking for. She made rags and stayed indoors. She rubbed clary sage oil on her stomach for the cramping and put warm compresses on her stomach. It was the first thing she added to the list of things he should have told her about. Being twelve and alone in the forest was daunting. Bleeding every month for no reason was much worse.

She realized how far ahead of them she was when she came out of her daydream and couldn’t hear them. She looked back. They were laughing and walking like it was a stroll in the park. She glanced up in the trees to see the guard strategically placed. She knew they were still safe from the others but she couldn’t imagine laughing and joking and catching up the way they were.

She walked faster. She missed the silence and uncomplicated days of traveling with Hades. He would hunt and they would touch each other every now and again but neither of them needed to make a sound. She looked back at Kirishima and noticed the way he lumbered through the woods and let out a sigh. The bottom of the mountain led to a valley and she climbed a tree and sat on a sturdy branch.

“What do you see?”

“A highway. There’re cars on it, they’re burned.” It frightened Y/n. Scavengers were always nearest to the old remains. She stayed away from the remains.

“Do you see movement?”

She shook her head but narrowed her eyes to improve her vision. The infected had a way of not moving when you needed them to. The sun was going down and she wanted to scross the highway and be halfway up the next mountain before it’s completely dark. She climbed down the tree and tried not to look at either of the hulking men standing next to her.

She pulled an arrow and crouched low to the ground. She shut her mind off. She tried not to think when she was scared shitless.

She could hear Kirishima walking behind her, no doubt completely upright and picking his teeth with a piece of grass. Y/n decided to shoot him herself if he started to hum. The grass on the side of the highway was long. As she slipped through it the wind played with it, making it whisper. The birds here were not the kind who warn you of prey, they were scavengers. They wanted you to die.

The long grass swayed and played with her hair. Her heart was beating faster when her foot touched the gravel on the side of the highway.

She looked back at Bakugo and he nods. Kirishima’s lips curled into a smile. She couldn’t help but want to smile with him. She saw herself back at the cabin for the briefest of seconds. Images of her and him laying on the couch filled her mind. She smiled remembering the way they tried not to get caught staring at each other.

Her mind snapped back.

She closed her eyes and listened to the wind. There was no sound. She climbed out of the huge ditch and walked quickly and silently up onto the broken asphalt. It had started to crack from the weather and lack of care. Where her foot stepped first it crumbled. Her eyes scanned every inch of the deserted highway. Burned out cars sat staggered along the long straight road. The people caught in the traffic jams when the tidal waves were coming or the bombs were dropping to contain the sick. They fled from their vehicles. They left everything and ran. She remembered running.

She shook her head back to focusing. She slipped between an old burnt SUV and the skeleton of a small car. The hood of the car was lifted and the battery was gone. Not uncommon.

“Which way?” Kirishima asked louder than Y/n would’ve liked.

“Shhhh.”

The gravel on the other side was a welcomed sight. When her feet touched the grass she broke into a run. The bushes hit her in the face when she entered the forest. She ran until shesaw the tree she wanted. She climbed it and sat with her arrow pulled and at the ready. She scanned the highway and the ditch vigorously.

Kirishima was huffing and panting while he rested below the tree.

“Oh man you can run. Holy shit. I thought your leg was hurt. Whoa.”

“Kirishima.” Bakugo was back to being Business Bakugo. There was no fun with him, only survival. She didn’t take her eyes off the road. Nothing moved. She was about to climb down but she waited one more second. She saw the bushes across the move and pulled the arrow tighter. It looked like an animal but she couldn’t see clearly.

“I see something,” she said in a low voice.

“What?”

“Animal. Dog maybe.”

“Shit.” She looked down through the thick branches at Bakugo’s;ook and raised an eyebrow. “Trackers.”

He doesn’t finish the sentence and her eyes scanned across the highway again. The animal was gone. Nothing moved. She climbed down fast and turned to face the dense woods.

“That way.”

Kirishima looked pained, “Seriously? We’re going to run some more?”

She looked at him and nodded, “Think about what it’s like for Mina now. She’s terrified. She thinks the breeder camps are what we all think. She is waiting for her turn no doubt.”

He flinched, “Jesus Y/n. Easy on the visuals. She’s my friend for christ’s sake. I’m not bitching, my leg is just killing me.”

Y/n glared, “Is it bleeding?”

“No but it hurts.”

“Climb the tree and wait for us,” She handed him a water bottle from her belt. But Kirishima shook his head and looked at Bakugo who’s face was stoic

“Bakugo I’m not staying.”

Bakugo licked his lips and thought for a second, “You can’t hold us up.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes and sighed, “Let’s just go.”

Y/n held the water bottle out for one more second but he didn’t take her up on the offer. She turned and started to run. Her leg was sore and her stomach was empty. In her haste she never stocked up. Mina had been hard on her rules.

When the sun had started to set they were where Y/n wanted to be. Kirishima hadn’t complained and Bakugo was starting a small fire. She took her bow and found a nice quiet spot to sit and wait for something to make a sound.

The silence of the woods was alarming. She had never been in the woods here. She was exhausted but she stayed focused.

She heard the crunch of a stick and raised her arrow in the direction she heard it in. A large hare hopped over a branch and sniffed the wind. It’s ears twitched and Y/n knew that it had smelled her. She released the arrow, anticipating the hop it would do. The arrow slices through the neck of the rabbit. It tried to move for a second and then stopped. She gutted the hare where she killed it. She never brought it back with its guts. Leaving guts outside the cabin proved to be a mistake. She skinned it quickly with the skinning knife she kept and left the animal’sremains and carried the carcass to the fire.

She heard the cracking of wood when she got close. Bakugo was standing over the fire and Kirishima was sitting on a log next to him.

“So is there something between you two?” Bakugo asked but didn’t move his face.

Kirishima shrugged, “I don’t know. She’s a tough one to get to know. We kissed but it was a mistake.”

Bakugo looked at him and smiled, “I hear that. You remember the Laura Croft movies where Angelina Jolie was all hot and quiet but would kill anything that moved?”

Kirishima laughed, “Yeah. Exactly. Jesus, give her some pouty lips and bam. Laura Croft.”

Y/n felt her insides trembling. She didn’t remember the movies they were talking about. She couldn’t help but want to cry.

Bakugo laughed and shook his head, “But what a bitch though hey.”

She grabbed a rock from where she was standing and tossed it back a few yards. They couldn’t see her if she crouched.

“She’s back. Manners.” Bakugo spoke low and started poking the fire. She stood and walked from the bushes. She just wanted to throw the stupid hare down and leave them there, but her stomach was growling. She was exhausted. She would stay as long as it would take to eat and then she would be sleeping in a tree. Maybe if she was lucky she would fall in her sleep and wake up in hell.

Bakugo held out a small sack, “I have some potatoes from the camp and tinfoil.”

She nodded, “Okay.” She felt awkward. Kissing both of them was obviously bad, but having them call her a bitch after they kissed her was awful. Having Kirishima say it was a mistake was killing her. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. She walked around him and found a good stick to make a spit with.

She searched the ground around the fire until she found a good branch. She stripped the small branches and leaves from it. She smirked and shoved the stick into the open neck. She was imagining it was one of them.

“You’re a scary little thing.” She frowned at Kirishima who was watching her get the hare on the spit. “It’s a compliment.” She didn’t stop frowning. It didn’t feel like a complement. Even if it was, it wouldn’t stop the pain of the kiss being a mistake.

She built a spit with rocks and branches and twine from her backpack. Bakugo sliced the potatoes and laid them in the tinfoil. He placed them high on a rock with a flat surface in the fires circle of rocks.

Bakugo glanced at her, “So what’s to plan?”

“Get captured and free us both.” He laughed at Y/n. “I can do it.”

He shook his head, “I know you can, it's just funny that’s all. You’re willing to sacrifice yourself to save my friend?”

“She’s the only person I’ve met that I liked. Genuinely.” It was a stab at them both. Fuck them.

He raised his eyebrows, “Fair enough.” He looked hurt. The image of the girl in the short shorts didn’t leave her mind easily.

Kirishima looked hurt, “What am I, chopped liver?” Y/n smiled. She hated that she was smiling. She hated that he made her smile so easily. He grinned at her and she remembered his hands on her. She couldn’t stop staring at his lips. It made her feel sick.

Bakugo cleared his throat, “So how’ll you get captured?”

She shrugged, “Just act lost near the area.” She glanced at Kirishima who was still staring at her. His grin hadn’t left his face. She dug her stick in the dirt and drew a circle. She hit a rock and dirt went flying up at Kirishima’s face on his stump.

She laughed as he wipped his face clean, “Thanks.”

Bakugo laughed, “Stop being a baby.”

Kirishima shook the dirt out of his hair, “You did that on purpose.”

She put her hands up with the stick in them, “I didn’t, I swear.” She wish she had.

“I don’t think you shouldgo there, Y/n.”

She dug with the stick again, “I have to.” She didn’t say that she led them straight to Mina. She doesn’t say that it was all her fault. She didn’t have to. They all knew it was true. Bakugo turned the hare on the spit slowly. The smells were starting to make her stomach make noises she hadn’t heard since before she found the cabin.

Bakugo looked around, “When you get captured you need a way out.” He got up from the fire and muttered, “Kiri turn the hare.” He went to a tree and ripped off a branch. He sat next to Y/n on the log. The warmth of his body was touching her and it was setting her nerves on fire.

He bent down and drew a rectangle. In each of the corners he made small boxes, “There is a section that is for the women who are pregnant or about to be impregnated. This is probably where you'll go. Then this wing is for the younger girl who can't have babies yet. This is for the women with the babies. This is where the little girls are kept. Girls they raise to be breeders." He moved the stick to the other side and made a smaller box, "This is where the men are, if there are any men. Sometimes they don’t have any there." He cleared his throat nervously and drew an X in the middle but off to one side, "This is the fertility lab. This is where the lab coats and doctors and cleaners all stay. This is your only chance. They will have a dump somewhere near the clinic. The garbage goes every few days."

She frowned at him but Kirishima asked the question burning in her mind before she could, “Dude how do you know so much about the breeder farmer?”

Bakugo blushed in the firelight, “I lived there for a time.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, “As a cleaner or a doctor?” He laughed like he knew the answer.

Bakugo laughed, “I wish.”

Kirishim shook his head, “Nasty bro. Nasty.”

Y/n felt lost. She looked blankly at them both. Bakugo’s face looked like it was on fire.

“I was forced to um… donate.” Y/n didn’t understand what they were talking about.”

Kirishima started to make an odd motion with his fist, “He had to jerk his chiken for the big men.” She didn’t know what that meant but she nodded before they explained. Bakugo looked at her face and laughed.

Kirishima turned the hare, “So how many little Bakugo’s are running around?” Y/n felt her stomach drop. She understood. She felt judgment burn its way across her face.

“I wasn’t exactly in on the plans.”

Kirishima poked the hare, “How was life there?”

Bakugo snorted, “Thinking about signing up?”

Kirishima looked up, “Hey if there are three square meals a day and I get all the, um, reading material I need to deliver the goods, I’m in.”

The humor fell from Bakugo’s face. He almost twitched when he shook his head, “No. No three meals and material shitty hair. It’s more like milking a cow.”

Kirishima ignored the terror on his friend's face and grinned ear to ear, “Are there milk maids?”

Bakugo nodded, “Not the kind you’re thinking of. Mine was a guy named Dr. Stevie.”

Kirishima gagged, “Oh shit never mind.”

Bakugo looked down at the drawing again and chuckled, but Y/n could tell he was haunted by it.

“There’s no human contact Kirishima. It’s all done by machines, the girls and the boys. Anyway this section here has the surgeon’s clothes and boots. Change and climb into the garbage bin in the morning on a Tuesday or a Thursday or a Saturuday. The garbage comes around lunch and the best chance you have at not being noticed is then. They’ll be looking for you after lunch.”

Y/n felt sick thinking about the plan. She was not as strong as the look on her face suggests she is.

“I think it’s done,” Kirishima poked the hare.

Y/n shook her head, “Always over cook wild animals.”

Bakugo nudged her with his body, almost playfully, “You sure about this?”

She nodded and reached into the flames to turn the potatoes. The fire licked at her skin but she ignored it. It hurt. It was a warning of pain to come if she continued to stick her hands in the fire. Sitting between two men she couldn’t help but feel like it was appropriate.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Gen

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter. Just Nemuri and Hizashi being dweebs

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 6/16 (all chapters)

While you slept and Shouta squinted at the collection of food in his fridge, Hizashi and Nemuri sat in silence at the izakaya.

They’d stayed at the school for much longer than planned to go over the upcoming sports festival. Going for a beer had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the alcohol only added to how tired they already were.

Nemuri picked at her garlic fries with one hand and rested her head on the other. Hizashi had mostly abandoned his beer in favour of checking his phone.

You had texted him when you found Shouta’s apartment and then again on the train ride home. That should have been the end of it, but he couldn’t stop opening and closing the thread. Almost everything about that sequence of events was strange. He had concluded mere weeks after meeting you that you were a charitable sort of person, so the fact that you had gone to see Shouta wasn’t out of the ordinary. He couldn’t, however, understand why Shouta had let you in.

“Say, Nemuri,” he said. “You’ve known Eraser about as long as I have, right?”

“Sure,” she said, “what’s on your mind?”

“In all of the time you’ve known him...has he ever...you know…”

Nemuri raised an eyebrow and he sighed.

“Dated?”

Nemuri’s reaction was all he needed to know. Instead of saying yes or no she cracked up into boisterous laughter, slapping her hand against the table.

“Good one!” she said, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Do you remember Shinohara?”

Shinohara was a girl from general studies who attended UA at the same time they did. She had always been the shy sort, though just about everyone knew she had a crush on Aizawa. Everyone, that is to say, except Shouta himself. He never noticed that she blushed and hid when he passed her in the corridors. Whenever he found love notes in his locker he assumed they were meant for someone else.

Eventually Shirakumo got tired of his obliviousness and explained the truth of Shinohara’s feelings in detail. It was painful watching her be so thoroughly ignored, however innocently. He urged Shouta to say something to her, even if it meant letting her down gently.

That’s not exactly how it worked out, though.

Shouta did ask to meet her after school in one of the empty classrooms. He got there five minutes early and Shirakumo, Hizashi and Nemuri all hid in the classroom next door to eavesdrop. Shouta had never expressed any interest in anyone romantically or otherwise prior to this moment and it was strangely fascinating, like watching gorillas hump at the zoo.

Nemuri brought snacks; Hizashi brought custom made earphones from the support classes to listen in.

Shinohara was so excited that it was almost painful. She arrived several minutes late, having neatened up her hair and fixed her makeup. She was already incredibly awkward and, now that she was alone with her crush, stumbled over every word to cross her lips.

“Shinohara,” Shouta had said. “Is it true that you have feelings for me?”

She nodded.

“How long for?”

“Two years now.”

“I see. Well, don’t waste your time anymore. I don’t feel the same way.”

That was the last thing he ever said to her and Shirakumo, Nemuri and Hizashi all winced.

Years had passed since that moment and he had never expressed any desire to date or hint of a crush. They were pretty sure he’d never even had sex.

“What do you suppose his type is?”

Nemuri leaned back in her chair, still picking at her fries.

“Hmmmm,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“Something strange is happening,” said Hizashi. “I spoke to (Name) earlier and she…”

He leaned over to whisper, as if he was about to reveal confidential information.

“...she called him by his first name.”

Nemuri dropped the fry in her hand.

“No!”

“She went to his apartment...and He. Let. Her. In…”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I swear,” he said, turning his phone to show her.

Nemuri read the message chain, eyes widening.

“We’ve fallen into an alternate dimension,” she said, aghast.

“The sky’s going to fall!”

“We have to do something about this,” she said. “(Name) is a kind person...perhaps he’s mistaking it for affection.”

“Could it be...he’s the Shinohara?”

“Oh my god,” said Nemuri, clapping a hand over her mouth. “He’s the Shinohara.”

“Poor Eraser,” Hizashi said, tears forming in his eyes, “and his maiden’s heart.”

“We have to do something,” said Nemuri, “I don’t know what a rejection would do to him.”

They both fell into a stunned sort of silence, going over their complicated situation.

“Wait a second,” said Hizashi, eyes bright. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Oh?”

He opened up his phone and searched through his photos.

“There was a girl a while ago,” he said. “We went to Ego and...here!”

He turned his phone so Nemuri could see the screen. He had taken a lot of photographs that night, many of which with fans who had gotten incredibly excited to see him. He had also filmed a video, which just so happened to face out onto the bar.

“Say cheers, listeners,” he yelled over the thumping music, tossing back shots with the crowd.

Hizashi paused the video and caught Nemuri’s eye.

“Did you see it?”

“I see that you went without me.”

“No, not that. Watch again.”

He restarted the video and paused it moments before he shouted cheers.

“Look.”

Nemuri peered over as he pointed to the screen, showing a clear shot of the bar, however briefly. It wasn’t much, given the darkness of the video and sheer number of people in the room, but it was enough to show Shouta sitting at the bar, and he wasn’t alone.

Hizashi pressed play and the video continued, though this time they both focused on Shouta and the mysterious woman with him. As Hizashi and the girls with him downed their drinks, Shouta led the mysterious woman away from the bar, hand in hers.

“Who is that?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at her face.”

Nemuri took the phone and replayed the video several times, watching over and over as Shouta and the woman left the bar.

“For Eraser to show any interest, she must have had three tits or something.”

“Perhaps he’s still hung up on her.”

“You’re right.”

Hizashi took his phone back and shook his head.

“Poor (Name),” he said, “she has no idea she’s Eraser’s rebound.”

“She’s the Shinohara after all,” said Nemuri, wiping a tear from her eye.

“We have to do something,” said Hizashi. “At this rate both of them are going to get hurt.”

“As I see it, we have two options. We can find that girl and reunite our dear Eraser with the love of his life.”

“Ooooh, I like that. What’s the other option?”

“We play matchmaker. Get Eraser to forget that other woman and (Name) to consider him as husband material. That way neither of them is the Shinohara.”

Hizashi nodded sagely, picking up his beer.

“You know what we have to do,” he said, reaching up for a toast.

Nemuri nodded and lifted her own drink.

“That settles it then,” she said. “Once the sports festival is out of the way, it’s game on.”

“They’re not going to know what hit them.”

Unfortunately, through a grave misunderstanding, Nemuri and Hizashi had come to completely different conclusions.

Nemuri toasted to convincing you and Shouta of one another’s better qualities.

Hizashi toasted to finding the mysterious woman from Ego .

Little did they know that while these options appeared contradictory on a surface level they both led to the same outcome.

Similarly, neither you nor Shouta could possibly have predicted the chaos heading your way.