Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 6

masterlist

It was a quiet afternoon at the park. The golden hues of the setting sun painted the sky in warm tones as (Y/N), Izuku, and Toshinori—who had opted to leave his towering, muscular form at home—sat together on a bench. Toshinori, currently in his skeletal form, was taking a break from his usual hero duties. (Y/N), though still indifferent, could tell there was a certain level of comfort in the air. Toshinori seemed to relax more than usual, without the pressure of being the larger-than-life symbol of peace.

The three of them had been sitting in silence for a while, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Izuku, with his usual spark of curiosity, was taking in the moment, his eyes wide, appreciating the rare calm.

“I’m glad we could take a break,” Izuku said, his voice light. “It’s nice to relax for a bit.”

(Y/N) glanced at the sky, the colors shifting and changing as the sun set. His expression was unreadable, as always. But despite the cold indifference, he couldn’t deny the moment’s peace. It was rare—too rare—but something about this setting felt like it was meant to be, like a calm before the storm.

Toshinori, still in his frail skeletal form, chuckled lightly. “You know, Izuku, it’s important to take breaks. The weight of the world can get to you if you don’t.” His smile, though softer in his current state, still had the same warmth as his iconic, heroic smile.

(Y/N) shifted slightly, his gaze drifting to Toshinori. He had never fully understood why someone like Toshinori would be so… devoted to helping others. From his perspective, it seemed like a never-ending cycle of exhaustion and responsibility. Then again, (Y/N) had always seen things differently. His focus was on the practical aspects—what worked and what didn’t. In his mind, Toshinori seemed lonely, constantly burdened by expectations. But he didn’t voice that. There was no need. He wasn’t here to analyze the man. He was here because Inko asked him to look after Izuku—and that was his job.

“You’re probably right,” Izuku said, staring off into the distance. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m always chasing after something—training, learning—trying to prove I can be a hero, just like you.” His voice dropped slightly, his uncertainty creeping in.

(Y/N) didn’t offer any comforting words. He simply observed, his expression unreadable as always, feeling the weight of his own silence. He wasn’t here to comfort Izuku. He was just… there.

Izuku leaned back on the bench, looking up at the sky. “I’ve been training so hard lately. Sometimes I wonder if I’m really getting anywhere…” His voice was filled with frustration but also a glimmer of hope, as always.

“You think I’m improving, (Y/N)?” Izuku asked, his eyes full of expectation, though his voice had a slight edge of doubt to it.

Before (Y/N) could respond, Toshinori gave a tired chuckle, adjusting his glasses. “You’re doing great, Izuku. Just remember that progress isn’t always visible right away.” He sounded reassuring, though (Y/N) could sense the exhaustion hidden behind the kind words. He was too perceptive for Toshinori to fully conceal it, but there was no need to address it right now.

The sound of laughter and chatter from some nearby park-goers filled the air for a few moments, but then, out of nowhere, the atmosphere shifted. A low hum filled the air—a strange, almost oppressive pressure that made the hairs on the back of (Y/N)’s neck stand on end. He immediately stood up, his body tensing as his instincts kicked in. There was no mistaking it—danger was approaching.

Izuku, sensing the shift, started to look around. “Huh? What’s happening?” he asked, his voice questioned.

Before Toshinori could respond or find a spot to transform into All Might, Izuku’s question was cut off by a familiar voice—(Y/N)’s voice, grumbling in annoyance. “Great. This is so not in the schedule…” He turned to Izuku, looking more exasperated than concerned. “I’ve got this whole day mapped out, and now some lowlife villain has to come and mess it all up.”

Izuku blinked, slightly confused but mostly surprised by the sudden change in (Y/N)’s demeanor. 

A figure stepped out from behind a row of trees, a villain who looked as though he had just walked out of some bad manga. He had messy hair and his entire body was surrounded by a swirling vortex of air—an airbender wannabe, from the looks of it. The villain sneered as he floated above the ground, his eyes locking onto the trio, focusing on Toshinori first.

The villain sneered. “I am the villain Vortex! I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget!”

Izuku, body language read that he was eager to jump into action but also nervous and maybe a bit fearful… perhaps a lot fearful actually, he turned his attention to Toshinori and their eyes locked as if they were having a silent conversation with one another.

But (Y/N) interrupted him with a bored groan, completely disinterested. “Ugh… so lame.”

 (Y/N) reached down to his side and pulled out a sword with one fluid motion. The sound of metal scraping against leather echoed in the park, making both Izuku and Toshinori stiffen in surprise. They hadn’t seen the sword before, and they both assumed it was some sort of prop or fake.

But when (Y/N) unsheathed the blade, they quickly realized it was very real—real enough to have weight in the air.

“You’re going to fight with that?” Izuku asked, his voice filled with surprise, even a little concern.

(Y/N) nodded without hesitation, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the villain. “It’s not a fight,” he said flatly. “It’s just… a minor inconvenience. I had everything in order for today, and this idiot’s messing with them.”

The villain, hearing this, was enraged. “What did you say to me, brat?! I’m not some minor inconvenience! I’ll—”

“Shut it,” (Y/N) snapped, turning his attention back to Izuku. “I had a full day planned. Training with you, afterwards a nap, maybe some ramen, but no. No - now I have to deal with this… wannabe airbender.” His tone was dripping with disdain, and the villain’s face twisted in fury.

“You’re dead, kid!” The villain roared, gathering all the air around him into a massive sphere before launching it at (Y/N).

Izuku flinched, but (Y/N) barely moved. In the blink of an eye, he darted forward, his sword slicing through the air in a swift arc.

“First form: Mist Bloom,” (Y/N) whispered under his breath, and the blade danced through the air, cutting the swirling air sphere in half. The force of the attack sent a shockwave through the park, but (Y/N) remained unfazed, his stance still composed.

The villain staggered back, his control over the air faltering for just a moment. He gritted his teeth, now more determined than ever. “No one cuts through my winds!” he bellowed, gathering more of the turbulent air to strike again.

This time, (Y/N) moved with even more speed, barely visible as he closed the distance. His sword flashed again, and he whispered, “Second form: Mist Crescent.” The blade arced through the air, this time cutting not just through the air but the very essence of the villain’s power.

The villain cried out in frustration, his body getting hit by a powerful gust of wind from his own attack as his control slipped completely. The force of (Y/N)’s blow had knocked him back once again, this time leaving him struggling to regain his bearings.

“You’re pathetic,” (Y/N) said with a sneer, his sword moving effortlessly. He wasn’t even breathing heavily yet. “You think this is impressive? It’s not. You’re just a low-tier joke.”

The villain’s face twisted with rage. He pushed more of his power into the wind, now surrounding himself with an impenetrable barrier of swirling air. “You think you’re better than me? I’ll show you—!”

“Third form: Mist Flash,” (Y/N) whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. The speed of the attack was blinding, the sword flashing as it cut through the villain’s wind barrier like butter. In one fell swoop, (Y/N) closed the distance and appeared in front of the villain, the blade tracing a perfect path through the air as it knocked the villain off his feet and sent him crashing into the ground.

The villain’s attack faltered completely, and he crumpled, unconscious, to the earth.

Izuku stared in awe. The entire fight had been over in mere seconds—(Y/N) had dismantled the villain’s defenses with a casual ease that left no doubt about his capabilities.

Toshinori watched, impressed but also slightly relieved. He had been ready to intervene, but he realized (Y/N) was more than capable on his own. He could feel the tension in the air even before the villain fully showed but now that the fights over the once tensed air begin to ease as the fight ended.

(Y/N) sheathed his sword with a soft click and turned to face Izuku, his expression unchanged. “Well, that’s that. Now, where were we? Oh right—your training. We’re done for the day. I’ve got it all scheduled, so no more interruptions, got it?”

Izuku was still wide-eyed. “Th-thank you! That was incredible!”

Toshinori chuckled softly, nodding. “Indeed, incredible… and fast. Well done, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) gave a shrug, his eyes flicking back toward the horizon. “Yeah, yeah. I want my nap.” 

Izuku couldn’t help but smile, a sense of awe lingering in his chest. If this was what (Y/N) could do in a few seconds, he couldn’t wait to see how much further he could push his training under his watch.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: WELCOME TO MY HOMEPAGE :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

ᵔᴗᵔ hello, here is a guide for you or rather in this case a navigation on what's to come ᝰ.ᐟ

✶ about :

african-american / 22 fem writer / multi-fandom & original ideas / requests are open

✶ what I do :

multi-fandom & original works | AUs galore l open to requests and collaborations

✶ current vibes :

epic crossovers, haunting themes, and characters who thrive in the chaos

✶ stay awhile :

Follow for creativity, chaos, and the occasional overly dramatic monologue.

A Totally Normal Student

⬐ U.A. High School is known for producing Japan’s greatest heroes. With legends like All Might and Endeavor paving the way, Class 1-A is expected to uphold that legacy. They train, they fight, they grow stronger every day. And then there’s (Y/N). No one really talks about (Y/N). Not because they’re weak—oh, no. If anything, they might be the strongest in the class. But there’s just… something off about them. The way they tilt their head just a little too far. The way they appear in places they shouldn’t be. The way they say things that don’t make sense—until they do.

⬐ anothers note : full story is here on my quotev page, A Totally Normal Student

⬐ fandom : MHA x Duolingo Reader ᓀ ᵥ ᓂ

masterlist

chapter 3

The city was alive with the hum of distant traffic, the glow of streetlights flickering to life as the sun dipped below the horizon. Shadows stretched long against the pavement, and the air held a crispness that signaled the transition from evening to night.

Izuku Midoriya walked home, his mind swirling with thoughts, emotions tangled like frayed wires. The day had been relentless. His chest still felt tight from the weight of Katsuki’s words, the sting of burnt pages lingering in his hands like ghostly remnants.

He barely noticed the shift in the air—how it grew heavier, how the streetlights flickered unnaturally.

Not until it was too late.

A gurgling, wet sound slithered into his ears.

Then—

A thick, putrid mass exploded from the shadows, lunging at him with a sickening squelch.

The world tilted.

He barely had time to react before something thick, suffocating, and vile wrapped around his body, sliding over his limbs like living tar. The smell was unbearable—rotting sewage mixed with something acrid and unnatural. His arms flailed, but his hands found no purchase, slipping uselessly through the gelatinous substance.

His lungs seized.

It was inside his mouth. His throat.

He tried to scream, but only a muffled, strangled sound escaped.

“A small fry like you will make a good cover,” the creature’s voice gurgled, words distorted as though spoken through bubbling liquid. “Just stop squirming, and this will be over soon…”

The edges of his vision blurred. His heart pounded against his ribs in rapid, panicked beats.

No—No, I can’t—!

Just as darkness began creeping at the corners of his mind—

A gust of wind exploded through the alley.

A deafening BOOM followed, like the very air had been torn apart. The pressure knocked the slime villain back, ripping it from Izuku’s body in one violent motion.

He hit the ground hard, gasping, his lungs finally dragging in air—burning, painful, glorious air.

His ears rang, his vision spun.

And then—

A figure loomed before him, silhouetted by the city lights.

“Fear not, young man!”

A voice boomed, powerful, unwavering—familiar.

Izuku’s breath hitched.

The world seemed to snap into place as his vision cleared, revealing the unmistakable figure standing tall before him.

“Because I am here!”

All Might.

A legend.

A living symbol.

He had seen this moment play out in his dreams a thousand times—All Might, standing before him, saving the day like he always did. But now? Now it was real.

His idol had just saved his life.

His vision blurred again—not from dizziness, but from the sheer weight of the moment. His body trembled with unprocessed adrenaline as he tried to push himself up, but before he could find his footing, darkness overtook him.

He fainted.

The next time his eyes opened, the world was still unsteady.

And yet—there he was.

All Might.

Standing mere feet away, larger than life, his bright grin as dazzling as ever.

Izuku scrambled to his knees, his breath catching in his throat. “A-Ah! I—!”

He reached for his notebook, fumbling for a pen, desperate—he needed an autograph, something, anything—

But when he flipped open the scorched pages—

It was already there.

All Might’s signature, scrawled across the page in bold strokes.

Izuku choked on his own breath, tears stinging at the edges of his vision.

“You’re safe now, young man,” All Might assured him, giving a thumbs-up.

And then, just like that, he turned to leave, dragging the villain’s remains with him.

No—Wait!

Panic surged in Izuku’s chest, desperation overtaking logic.

He couldn’t just let this moment end.

Before he could think, before he could stop himself—

He grabbed onto All Might’s leg.

The next thing he knew—

The ground disappeared.

Wind roared in his ears, his stomach lurched as he realized—

He was flying.

“Let go, young man!” All Might’s voice boomed, alarmed.

“I—I’ll die if I do!” Izuku clung tighter.

All Might’s face twitched, his grin straining, and then—blood.

A thick spurt of red leaked from his mouth.

Izuku’s eyes widened in horror.

Before he could react, All Might twisted in midair, scanning the cityscape before making a sharp descent.

They landed—hard—on an empty rooftop.

Izuku tumbled, rolling onto his back, gasping for breath.

All Might stood over him, looking…off.

Strange.

His body trembled slightly, his posture rigid.

And then—

He deflated.

Note : fucking balloons I tell ya. — Duolingo

Gone was the towering figure of muscle and might.

Before Izuku now stood a gaunt, sickly man, steam rising from his frail frame.

Izuku’s world cracked.

All Might sighed, wiping blood from his chin. “You had to ask something, didn’t you?”

Izuku swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Can… someone without a Quirk… be a hero like you?”

Elsewhere… 

Back at the streets, the night deepened.

Katsuki Bakugo stood with his “friends,” though the term was loose at best.

“You might’ve gone too far, man.”

One of them spoke cautiously.

Katsuki scoffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Tch. It’s his own damn fault.”

The others exchanged glances.

They had seen Izuku take a lot over the years, but today? Today was—different.

Katsuki didn’t care.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

What he didn’t notice, though—

Was the pair of eyes watching from the shadows.

Waiting.

Hunting.

“Heh. Get lost, kid. I already found me a meat suit!”

The slime villain gurgled, tightening its grip around Katsuki’s struggling form.

From the edge of the alley, a figure stepped into view.

Unbothered.

Unhurried.

(Y/N).

“Spanish or vanish.”

The villain paused.

For a moment, silence hung between them.

Then, to its credit—

“Hola?”

(Y/N) smirked.

Katsuki, however, wasn’t so lucky.

It’s not like he’s drowning in slime or anything.

Oh wait.

He is.

Imagine—lungs filled, oxygen cut off. The slow, excruciating realization that no matter how hard you struggle, no matter how much you claw, there’s no air left.

Imagine the sheer, burning agony of suffocation—not just from lack of breath, but from inside out. His skin tingles, his nerves alight with an eerie numbness as the sludge seeps into every crevice, clogging his throat, squeezing his chest, crawling behind his eyes—

He is dying.

And no one is there to save him.

Particles.

Bit by bit, Katsuki’s body began to disintegrate.

The slime villain froze.

Then—

There was nothing.

Just empty air where Katsuki once was.

The villain recoiled in confusion.

(Y/N), however—

Simply grinned.

“All in a day’s work.”

Spoken to no one in particular.

Just a statement.

A fact.

A predator’s satisfaction.

And where does that leave our lovable pomegranate dog? Gone? Vanished ? Perhaps he now resides elsewhere? Elsewhere like…

El Bosque de la Lengua Perdida.

(The Forest of the Lost Tongue.)

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

breathing forms (not a chapter)

1. First Form: Mist Bloom : The First Form, Mist Bloom, is the foundation of (Y/N)’s Mist Breathing techniques. It emphasizes precision and overwhelming speed to confuse and disorient opponents.

Description : When (Y/N) uses Mist Bloom, his movements blur, creating an illusion of multiple afterimages around him. The technique involves a flurry of swift, shallow strikes delivered in rapid succession, each strike seemingly coming from a different angle. This creates the visual effect of “blooming mist,” where his attacks are as unpredictable and ephemeral as mist itself.

Capabilities Include :

Speed and Deception : Mist Bloom leverages blinding speed to make it difficult for opponents to track (Y/N)’s movements. The afterimages confuse and distract, making it almost impossible for them to anticipate where the real attack will land.

Precision Attacks : The strikes are not random—they are carefully aimed at the opponent’s weak points or openings, ensuring maximum damage while minimizing energy expenditure.

Utility in Combat : Mist Bloom is ideal for overwhelming opponents or defending against multiple attackers. It also works well as a countermeasure, exploiting the smallest mistakes in an enemy’s defense.

•••

2. Second Form: Mist Crescent : The Second Form, Mist Crescent, is a more direct and offensive technique compared to Mist Bloom, focusing on delivering a single, devastating strike.

Description : In Mist Crescent, (Y/N) channels his breathing into a fluid, arcing swing of his weapon (or in this case, a stick). The arc of the strike generates a concentrated wave of mist-like energy that travels outward in a crescent shape. The mist created by this technique is so dense that it obscures the user’s position while simultaneously disorienting the enemy.

Capabilities Include :

Ranged Attack : The crescent-shaped wave of energy travels several meters, making this an effective mid-range attack. It is powerful enough to cut through obstacles or even strike multiple targets in its path.

Obscuring Mist : The dense mist released by the swing cloaks (Y/N)’s immediate area, making it hard for opponents to see or pinpoint his location. This mist can linger momentarily, offering both offensive and defensive utility.

Raw Power : Mist Crescent is less about speed and more about sheer destructive power. The swing carries enough force to break through defenses or knock opponents off balance.

Shockwave Effect: The strike’s force generates a shockwave that can destabilize the terrain or send debris flying, further adding to its disorienting effect.

•••

3. Third Form: Mist Flash : The Third Form: Mist Flash is a high-speed, single-target offensive technique that combines incredible agility with precise execution. It is designed for situations where (Y/N) needs to close the distance between himself and his opponent in the blink of an eye, delivering a critical strike before they even have a chance to react.

Description : When activating Mist Flash, (Y/N)’s body vanishes from view, shrouded in a sudden burst of mist. The technique allows him to move at an explosive speed toward his opponent, seemingly “flashing” from one point to another. The move is completed with a single, calculated strike aimed at a vital point, leaving behind a lingering trail of mist in his wake.

Capabilities Include :

Blinding Speed : Mist Flash allows (Y/N) to travel short distances almost instantaneously, making it difficult for enemies to track his movement. It is ideal for ambushing opponents or evading an incoming attack before countering with a precise strike.

Pinpoint Accuracy : The technique focuses on delivering a single, powerful strike to the enemy’s weak point, ensuring maximum damage with minimal effort. It is particularly effective against enemies with slower reaction times or those caught off-guard.

Disorienting Mist : The sudden burst of mist that accompanies the move not only conceals (Y/N)’s position but also disrupts the enemy’s vision and focus. The mist lingers momentarily, obscuring (Y/N)’s location even after the strike is complete, allowing him to retreat or set up another attack.

Utility in Combat : Mist Flash is excellent for one-on-one combat, especially against stronger opponents who rely on brute force. It can also be used to bypass enemy defenses or barriers, enabling (Y/N) to land a decisive blow.

•••

4. Fourth Form: Blessed Mist : The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique in the Mist Breathing style, which (Y/N) has mastered through rigorous training. Mist Breathing is known for its reliance on swift, unpredictable movements and creating illusions to disorient opponents. Blessed Mist embodies these principles by blending immense speed with precise, controlled force to enhance attacks or actions.

Description : The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique designed to amplify both speed and control by cloaking the user in a dense, swirling mist that obscures their exact movements. The technique creates the illusion that the user is moving in multiple directions at once, making them difficult to track. While primarily a combat technique, it is highly adaptable and can enhance the effectiveness of various physical tasks.

Capabilities of Fourth Form: Blessed Mist:

Burst of Speed : The user generates a sudden surge of speed that makes their movements almost imperceptible to the naked eye. This burst is not only visually disorienting but also allows for rapid and powerful actions to be executed in an instant.

Control over Momentum : The swirling mist doesn’t just serve as a visual distraction—it allows the user to channel their movements with incredible precision. This ensures that every ounce of effort is directed toward the intended target, whether it’s cutting down an opponent.

Illusion of Multiplicity : The mist creates afterimages of the user’s movements, making it seem as though they are striking or acting from multiple directions at once. This effect confuses opponents or observers, leaving them unsure of the user’s exact location.

Force Amplification : The momentum generated by the user during this technique is highly concentrated. By combining speed and precision, the user’s attacks—or in this case, the throw—carry much more force than what is physically apparent.

•••

5. Fifth Form: Shrouded Tempest : Shrouded Tempest : Creates a swirling mist vortex that blinds and disorients enemies while providing (Y/N) with enhanced perception. It is both a defensive barrier and an offensive tool, overwhelming multiple enemies simultaneously.

Description : Shrouded Tempest is a defensive and offensive technique that creates a swirling vortex of mist around (Y/N). This mist obscures visibility for his enemies while enhancing his ability to perceive movements within it. The technique is particularly useful in overwhelming groups of enemies or turning the tide of battle when outnumbered.

Capabilities Include :

360-Degree Defense : The swirling mist acts as a protective barrier, deflecting weaker projectiles and disorienting enemies trying to close the distance.

Enhanced Perception : While enemies are blinded by the thick mist, (Y/N) gains heightened awareness of movements within the vortex, allowing him to predict and counter attacks.

Group Suppression : The expanding vortex spreads rapidly, enveloping multiple enemies at once and making it nearly impossible for them to pinpoint (Y/N)’s location.

 Debilitating Mist : The swirling mist is infused with high-speed strikes as (Y/N) moves unpredictably within it, landing precise cuts that slowly whittle down his opponents.

•••

6. Sixth Form: Lunar Drift : Focuses on evasive, fluid movements that allow (Y/N) to dodge and counter with precision. Its unpredictable gliding motion confuses enemies, turning their aggression into openings for devastating counterattacks.

Description : Lunar Drift focuses on evasion and counterattack. (Y/N) appears to “glide” across the battlefield like moonlight on water, moving unpredictably to dodge enemy strikes while setting up his counterattack. This form embodies the ethereal grace of Mist Breathing, allowing him to outmaneuver even the most relentless foes.

Capabilities Include :

Unpredictable Movement : (Y/N)’s movements are smooth and erratic, making it almost impossible for enemies to predict his position.

Perfect Counters : Lunar Drift creates opportunities to exploit enemy openings, as (Y/N) can flow effortlessly into precise counterattacks after dodging.

Momentum Control : The technique uses the enemy’s aggression against them by redirecting their momentum into devastating strikes.

Sustained Evasion : (Y/N) can maintain this form for extended periods, allowing him to outlast opponents who rely on stamina or brute strength.

•••

7. Seventh Form: Ethereal Shroud : Cloaks (Y/N) in a dense, luminous mist that makes him nearly invisible and silent. This form creates afterimages and illusions, allowing him to strike from hidden angles with lethal precision while evading detection.

Description : Ethereal Shroud is a high-level technique that envelops (Y/N) in a thick, luminous mist that distorts both his appearance and presence. Within the shroud, (Y/N) becomes nearly impossible to detect, allowing him to strike from unexpected angles with unparalleled precision. This form is ideal for assassinations or turning the tide in a difficult battle.

Capabilities Include :

Invisibility in Motion : The luminous mist refracts light and sound, rendering (Y/N) almost invisible and silent as he moves.

Untraceable Strikes : Attacks launched from within the shroud are nearly impossible to predict or counter, as enemies can’t locate the source.

Overwhelming Illusions : The mist creates afterimages and phantom attacks, confusing opponents and forcing them to waste energy defending against feints.

Enhanced Lethality : The form allows (Y/N) to focus all his energy into swift, precise strikes that target vital points, maximizing damage with minimal effort.

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 10

masterlist

The first day at UA was finally here, and the buzz of excitement in the air was nearly overwhelming. Students crowded the gates, some whispering in awe, others loudly boasting about their performance in the entrance exams. Izuku Midoriya was among them, his nerves bubbling over as he clutched his bag tightly. For him, this day had been a lifelong dream, but now that he was here, the sheer magnitude of it was almost too much to handle.

Standing beside him, (Y/N) was the polar opposite. His posture was relaxed, his gaze detached as if the massive gates and prestigious reputation of UA were just another backdrop in his otherwise mundane life.

“You’re doing that nervous thing with your hands again,” (Y/N) muttered, not even looking at Izuku.

Izuku immediately flinched, shoving his fidgeting hands into his pockets. “I can’t help it! I mean, this is UA! The UA! What if I mess up on the first day? What if someone—”

“Chill,” (Y/N) interrupted flatly. “No one cares as much as you think they do. You passed, didn’t you? You’re here, aren’t you? Just don’t trip over your own feet, and you’ll be fine.”

Izuku blinked at him, his mouth opening to argue but closing just as quickly. He knew (Y/N) wasn’t wrong, but the bluntness was still jarring.

The classroom for Class 1-A was huge, with desks neatly arranged and a commanding podium at the front. The moment Izuku stepped inside, his nerves spiked. Students were scattered around the room, chatting, sizing each other up, or silently observing.

“Move,” (Y/N) said, brushing past him to take a seat near the back by the window. He sank into his chair as if it had been waiting specifically for him, resting his chin on his hand with a far-off look in his eyes.

Izuku scrambled to find a seat nearby, eventually settling in the one directly in front of (Y/N). His hands gripped his bag tightly as he tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

The noise in the room grew louder as more students arrived, some conversations growing heated. A tall boy with glasses and a rigid posture was confronting someone at the front of the room—a boy with ash-blonde hair and a permanent scowl.

“You need to check your attitude!” the boy with glasses barked, his hand slicing the air dramatically.

“Shut the hell up, extra,” Bakugo snarled, his crimson eyes blazing with irritation. He leaned back in his chair, smirking arrogantly. “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to waste my time on losers like you. Go sit down before you embarrass yourself.”

The glasses-wearing boy turned red but seemed to decide it wasn’t worth pushing further. He stormed off to his seat, muttering under his breath.

Bakugo’s sharp gaze swept the room, landing on Izuku. His smirk widened into something far more menacing. “Deku,” he growled, practically spitting the nickname.

Izuku tensed in his seat, clutching his bag as if it could shield him.

Bakugo’s eyes shifted to (Y/N), who hadn’t even glanced his way. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

(Y/N) finally turned his head, his expression unreadable. “Someone who doesn’t have time for whatever daddy issues,”

The ash haired boy growls— something (Y/N) notes down, “Mommy issues it is, and childhood drama you’re trying to stir up,” he said, his voice calm but laced with a subtle edge.

Bakugo bristled, his smirk faltering for a split second. “What’d you just say, you—”

Before he could finish, the door slid open, and a disheveled man in a yellow sleeping bag shuffled into the room.

The room fell silent as the man unzipped himself and stood, his tired eyes sweeping over the class.

“It took you eight seconds to quiet down,” he said flatly. “That won’t cut it.”

Izuku whispered, “Is that… Eraser Head?”

(Y/N) tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on the man with mild curiosity.

“I’m Shota Aizawa, your homeroom teacher,” the man continued. “Put these on and meet me outside.” He dropped a pile of gym uniforms onto the podium and walked out without another word.

The quirk assessment test was going to be grueling to say the least, or at least that’s what some of the students were thinking. Aizawa didn’t waste time with pleasantries or introductions, instead throwing the students into trial after trial to gauge their abilities.

The 50-meter dash was up first, and the students lined up to showcase their speed. Bakugo, as usual, was itching to show off. When his turn came, he launched himself forward with a burst of explosions from his palms, rocketing down the track and finishing with an impressive time.

“4.13 seconds. Not bad,” Aizawa said lazily, jotting it down.

Bakugo smirked, throwing a cocky glance at the others. “Let’s see any of you extras beat that.”

(Y/N) approached the starting line, his expression as blank as always. He didn’t react to Bakugo’s words or the murmurs from the class, his body language relaxed and unhurried, almost as though he were bored.

“Let’s see what the so-called maid boy’s got,” Bakugo muttered, smirking again.

Did Bakugo remember who (Y/N) was in class? Yes— in what world would even bother to forget that maid boy who he challenged back in middle school just to get his ass handed back to him on a silver platter. It was embarrassing but it was also a lesson bakugo would never forget— so he trained.

He trained and trained, and strained his muscles. There were days he’ll pass out and his father would carry him inside and lay a cold rag on his forehead to cool him off, days when he’ll have to rest his hands in buckets of ice water to cool off as his mother yelled and berated him for being a brat and overworking himself, he’ll yell back but the argument would never go on for long.

It was simply his mother’s way of showing her love for him— though aggressive, as for him he simply wouldn’t have the energy to spare.

His only thoughts were to beat that ‘maid ass extra’ and be Number 1.

But— don’t get it twisted just because (Y/N) more or less was in the boys mind 24/7; it’s giving fanboy. He wouldn’t give that extra the satisfaction of knowing he remembered him.

When the signal went off, (Y/N) moved—and the world seemed to blur around him.

He wasn’t just fast—he was blinding. His feet didn’t pound the ground so much as skim across it, as if gravity barely applied to him. Each step was a fluid, seamless motion, too swift for the eye to fully follow. To the students, it was like he vanished, leaving only faint traces of movement in his wake. The rush of air trailing behind him felt almost deafening, as though the sound itself was trying to catch up and failing miserably.

The timer beeped sharply at the finish line. Aizawa stared at the time displayed for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in intrigue. “0.43 seconds.”

There was dead silence. Even Bakugo, who had been smug only moments before, froze mid-sneer. The other students’ mouths hung open, their disbelief written across their faces.

“What?” Bakugo barked, his hands sparking with irritation. “No way in hell that’s right!”

(Y/N) walked back toward the group, not sparing anyone so much as a glance. His breathing was steady, his expression as calm and detached as ever. To him, it was as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

As he passed Bakugo, he lazily adjusted his gloves and muttered under his breath, “Huh. Felt slow.”

The explosive blonde’s face turned a furious shade of red. “What did you say, you damn extra?!”

But (Y/N) was already walking away, his eyes fixed on the horizon, clearly uninterested in engaging.

“Interesting,” Aizawa murmured, jotting something down. He didn’t say anything else, but his gaze lingered on (Y/N) for a moment longer than usual, as though piecing together a puzzle no one else could see.

its a question i can't find you in quotev 😔💔

Awesomesauce, so thank you for asking such question, I’ll be happy to answer— so this is my profile right here

Link wise seedofdoubt

Ｌｕｒｅｄ Ｉｎ

⬐ All Jack wanted was a quite place to rest his head after a encounter with a monster on his mission that left him wary and muscles aching for relief, what he receives is what he’s wanted and possibly something more.

authors note : this was a story requested by @princeasimdiya12

warning : this story is an 18+ one shot story between men. If you find men on men action to be something not of your taste I ask that you click off and not read please

The valley reeked of smoke and death. A soft wind carried the ash of what once had been a thriving village, brushing against Samurai Jack’s face as he stood at the edge of a scorched cliff. His katana hung loosely in his grip, its polished blade catching the faint light of the setting sun. Below him, blackened structures jutted out like broken teeth, the remains of homes reduced to cinders.

This wasn’t the first time Jack had arrived too late. And as much as he tried to steel himself, it never got any easier.

A low rumble shook the ground beneath him, drawing his attention to the heart of the destruction. Standing there amidst the rubble was a hulking figure, half-machine, half-sorcery. Its body gleamed like molten iron, patched with cracks that glowed green, pulsating like a diseased heartbeat. Its head swiveled unnaturally, glowing eyes locking onto him with a mechanical whirr.

“Another pest crawling to meet its end,” the construct snarled, its voice layered with malice and static.

Jack narrowed his eyes. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. He didn’t reply. There was no need.

The construct—a creation of Aku, no doubt—rose to its full height. It had to be at least twenty feet tall, its limbs reinforced with jagged plating. With each step it took, the earth groaned beneath its weight. This thing had destroyed the village and its people, not out of necessity, but out of cruelty. Jack could feel it. He could always sense the twisted fingerprints of Aku’s darkness.

“You’ve come to die like the rest,” it said, raising an arm that ended in a massive blade. “I’ll make it quick.”

Jack moved.

The construct swung its blade down with the force of a falling tree, splitting the earth where Jack had stood a moment before. The shockwave sent chunks of rock flying in every direction, but Jack was already gone, darting to the side and closing the distance. His katana flashed in the dim light, striking the creature’s leg with precision. Sparks flew as the blade bit into metal, carving a shallow groove before Jack leapt back to avoid the counterattack.

The golem roared, slashing horizontally. Jack ducked low, the blade slicing just above his head. He countered with a series of quick strikes, his movements sharp and efficient, each one aimed at vulnerable joints and exposed mechanisms. But the creature was fast—faster than something its size had any right to be.

A heavy fist came crashing down, forcing Jack to roll out of the way. He came to his feet in one fluid motion, his breathing steady despite the intensity of the battle. He studied his opponent, looking for an opening.

“You’re nimble, samurai,” the golem sneered, its glowing core flickering as it spoke. “But your blade is useless against me. You cannot destroy what is unbreakable.”

Jack wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Everything breaks,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm.

The construct roared again, its core flaring brighter as it unleashed a barrage of energy bolts. They screamed through the air, leaving trails of smoke in their wake. Jack dodged, his sandals barely touching the ground as he moved. One bolt grazed his shoulder, singing the fabric of his gi, but he pressed on, ignoring the searing pain.

He closed the distance once more, darting under the construct’s arm and leaping onto its back. His katana struck true, severing a bundle of cables that ran along its spine. The creature staggered, sparks erupting from the wound.

“You little—” It spun wildly, trying to shake him off.

Jack jumped clear, landing in a crouch a few feet away. He could see the damage now—the flickering core, the uneven movements. It was weakening. But he knew better than to get careless.

The creature raised its remaining arm, dark energy coalescing into a massive, crackling orb. Jack stood his ground, waiting. The energy surged forward, a blinding wave of destruction aimed directly at him. At the last second, he sidestepped, the attack missing him by inches and carving a deep trench into the earth.

Before the construct could recover, Jack charged. He sprinted up a piece of fallen debris, using it as a ramp to propel himself high into the air. With a cry that echoed through the ruined valley, he brought his katana down in a two-handed strike.

The blade pierced the construct’s core.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Then the light within the creature flared violently before fading altogether. Its body shuddered, joints seizing, before it collapsed to the ground in a heap of twisted metal.

Jack landed softly beside it, his katana already sheathed. He stood there for a moment, the only sound his steady breathing and the distant crackle of dying flames. The battle was over, but the weight of the loss lingered in the air.

He turned toward the horizon, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. There was no one left to save here. But there were others—other villages, other lives that Aku sought to destroy.

Jack adjusted the strap of his sword and began walking.

The road stretched long and empty ahead of Jack, framed by distant hills and thick clusters of trees. Each step was measured, his sandals brushing against loose dirt, the faint sound of birdsong filling the quiet spaces in his mind. The fight earlier had left his muscles tense and his spirit heavier than usual, though he kept his composure as always.

The sun hung high in the sky when he reached the outskirts of a small town nestled in the valley below. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the hum of daily life buzzed faintly in the air—a blacksmith pounding steel, children laughing somewhere nearby, and the muffled conversations of townsfolk trading goods. Jack paused on a ridge, taking it all in.

It wasn’t much, this town, but it was alive. That alone was enough to soothe him.

As he stepped onto the main road, his presence drew the occasional curious glance. His attire—worn from travel and battle—marked him as an outsider, his katana slung at his side a clear testament to his purpose. Yet most people went about their business, leaving him to his own path.

The scent of cooking fish drifted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of fresh-cut hay. Jack followed the aroma to a modest restaurant with wide-open windows and a simple wooden sign swaying in the breeze. His stomach tightened, reminding him how long it had been since his last meal.

Inside, the restaurant was quiet but welcoming. Lanterns hung from the low wooden beams, casting a warm glow over the small crowd of patrons. Jack found a seat in the corner and rested his katana against the wall beside him. His movements were deliberate and respectful, as if the weight of his journey carried into every gesture.

When the server approached, Jack gave a small bow of thanks and ordered a plate of grilled fish, rice, and tea. He didn’t ask for anything more; simplicity had long been his way.

As he waited, the soft murmur of nearby conversations floated through the room. A table of women sat not far from him, their voices carrying just enough for Jack to catch snippets of their conversation. He wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but something about their words drew his attention.

“The Lucid Dreams Inn,” one of them said, her tone hushed but eager. “Have you been yet? It’s just outside of town, through the woods.”

“Not yet,” another replied, a wistful note in her voice. “But my sister went last week. She said it was like paradise—baths so warm you feel weightless and staff that treat you like royalty. It’s a dream.”

Jack kept his gaze on the table in front of him, but his focus shifted to their words. He didn’t often indulge in luxuries. His path was one of duty, not leisure. Yet the mention of a spa—a place of peace, even for a short while—stirred something in him.

“You should see the themed rooms,” another chimed in, laughing softly. “They make you feel like you’re in another world. And the massages…” She trailed off, sighing dramatically, which drew laughter from the group.

Jack’s food arrived, and he ate slowly, savoring each bite. The fish was perfectly cooked, the rice soft and steaming. He felt his body relax just slightly, as if the meal itself was a small act of kindness.

When he finished, he stood and approached the women’s table, bowing his head respectfully. “Forgive my intrusion,” he said, his voice calm and polite. “But I couldn’t help overhearing. Could you tell me where this Lucid Dreams Inn is located?”

The women exchanged surprised looks before one of them smiled warmly. “It’s not far,” she said. “Just follow the eastern road out of town until you reach the edge of the woods. You’ll see a path lined with lanterns—it’ll take you straight there.”

Jack gave a small bow of thanks. “I appreciate your guidance.”

With his meal paid for, he left the restaurant and followed the directions he’d been given. The eastern road was quieter than the bustling town, flanked by trees that swayed gently in the breeze. As he walked, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lighten slightly. The idea of a spa—a chance to rest, even briefly—felt indulgent, but perhaps it was something he needed.

It wasn’t long before he reached the woods. Just as the women had said, lanterns lined a narrow path, their warm glow cutting through the shade. Jack followed them, the soft crunch of dirt under his sandals blending with the rustle of leaves overhead.

The woods eventually opened to reveal the inn, and Jack stopped in his tracks. It was breathtaking—an elegant structure that seemed to glow in the fading sunlight, its carved arches and intricate patterns whispering of distant lands. Soft golden light spilled from its windows, and the gentle hum of a nearby stream added to its tranquil aura. It wasn’t just a building; it was a promise of peace, a refuge from the chaos that had defined his journey. For a moment, Jack allowed himself to simply stand there, taking in the stillness. Then, adjusting his katana at his side, he stepped forward. Perhaps, for just one night, he could leave the weight of his remaining mission behind.

The soft sound of the flowing stream faded as Jack crossed the threshold of the inn. The air inside was warm and fragrant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and sandalwood. A tranquil ambiance enveloped the space, with low lantern light casting a golden glow across the polished wood floors and richly woven rugs.

Jack was immediately greeted by the sight of a staff gathered near the front, a diverse group of young men and women. They moved with an effortless grace, each dressed in elegant yet modest attire that complimented their features. Their bright smiles and welcoming demeanor immediately put Jack at ease.

However, it was the group of men by the front desk that caught his attention. A handful of them lounged casually against the counter, clearly enjoying a break. Their voices carried across the room, drawing Jack’s gaze in spite of himself.

“Too rough,” one of them groaned dramatically, rolling his shoulders. “I’ve still got bruises!”

“That’s nothing,” another cut in, laughing. “Mine was too soft! If you’re gonna pay for time like that, at least make it memorable.”

The others burst into laughter, their easy camaraderie filling the air. Jack found himself averting his eyes, but not before sneaking a quick glance their way. They were striking, each in their own way—tall and lean, or broad-shouldered and strong, their features as varied as the stars in the sky. A faint blush warmed Jack’s face as he cleared his throat, silently admonishing himself for his wandering thoughts.

Still, curiosity gnawed at him. The conversation wasn’t exactly what he’d expected in a place like this, and it left him wondering about the services the inn provided. Steeling himself, Jack approached the main counter where one of the women was smiling warmly at him. But before he could speak, the group of men noticed him. Their conversation stopped mid-laugh as they turned to look at him—really look at him.

The shift was almost palpable. Their gazes swept over him with a mixture of intrigue and appreciation, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the quiet intensity that seemed to follow him wherever he went. It was clear, without a word exchanged, that they all had the same thought: they wanted him.

“Excuse me,” Jack said, his voice soft yet deliberate. “I was curious… What kind of services does this inn provide?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, and the group exchanged knowing glances, small smirks curling at the corners of their lips. One of them, a tall man with chestnut hair and a confident air, stepped forward.

“We offer all kinds of services,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “Massages, baths, private rooms for relaxation… Whatever you need to ease your mind and body.”

Another man chimed in, his tone playful. “And we do our best to make sure every client leaves completely… satisfied.”

Jack’s eyes widened slightly, and he quickly looked away, his usual composure faltering. “I see,” he murmured, his cheeks flushing faintly.

The group chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect their words had on him. “Don’t worry,” the first man said, his smile widening. “You’re in good hands here. Why don’t you let us take care of you for a while?”

Jack hesitated, torn between his curiosity and the unfamiliar heat rising in his chest. This place was unlike any he had ever encountered, and for a moment, he wondered if stepping through its doors had been a mistake. But the thought was fleeting. Perhaps, just this once, he could indulge in something beyond his usual discipline and duty.

Jack followed the group of men as they led him down a dimly lit corridor. The soft glow of lanterns and the delicate hum of distant music created an intimate and relaxing atmosphere. The men chatted casually among themselves, their confidence and playful energy drawing Jack in despite his initial apprehension.

They came to a stop in front of an ornate door. One of the attendants, a tall man with striking amber eyes, gestured toward it with a flourish. “This is one of our special service rooms,” he said, his voice smooth as silk.

Jack stepped inside and took in the lavish setting. One side of the room held a heart-shaped bed draped in luxurious crimson sheets, surrounded by soft golden lighting. On the other side was a bathing area separated by a carved wooden screen. The bath itself was a work of art—an oversized tub made of polished stone, filled with steaming water that shimmered with faintly glowing herbs and oils.

“Relax, Samurai,” one of the men said with a teasing smile, placing a hand lightly on Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of everything.”

Jack hesitated for a moment, unused to such attention. “Perhaps you gentlemen can step out for a moment while I undress.”

One of the men tilt his head towards jack, “But whyyy,” whines the man.

“We’re all friends here, no need to be shy.”

Jack hesitated for a moment before nodding his head, as he shrugged off his outer robe and stepped toward the bath, he felt a rare sense of ease begin to settle over him. The warm water enveloped him as he sank into the tub, sighing deeply as the tension in his muscles started to melt away.

The harem boys moved with practiced grace, gathering around the bath with sponges and towels in hand. They began to gently wash him, their hands skimming over his shoulders and arms, tracing the lines of his taut muscles. Their touch was firm yet soothing, accompanied by lighthearted laughter and conversation that kept the mood light.

Jack’s body sat slouched in the tub full of water and scented oils, he hunched over almost as if he was cowering in on himself. It was his way of hiding himself from these men - hiding from their view.

One of the younger attendants, a slim boy with mischievous green eyes, perched on the edge of the tub. “You’ve got some serious muscle,” he commented, poking Jack’s bicep with a grin. “What do you eat to stay like this?”

Jack still nervous chuckled softy, in a nervous manner almost— shaking his head. “Mostly rice and vegetables. Simple food.”

The group laughed, some jokingly telling him that’s not enough for a man of his size and another chimed in, “Well, tonight you’ll have to try something a little more exciting.”

From a nearby tray, the green-eyed boy grabbed a delicate glass filled with amber liquid. “This,” he said, holding it up, “is one of our specialties. Sweet, smooth, and perfect after a long day. You have to try it.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. “I’m not much of a drinker,” he admitted.

“Just a sip,” the boy coaxed, offering the glass. “I promise you’ll like it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack took the glass and brought it to his lips. The liquor was surprisingly sweet, with a hint of fruit and spice. It slid down easily, warming him from the inside. He nodded approvingly and took another sip—then another.

Before long, Jack had finished the glass and reached for another, the smooth sweetness of the drink luring him in. The harem boys exchanged knowing glances, their smiles growing wider as Jack unknowingly indulged.

It wasn’t until he set the glass down and leaned back in the water that one of them, a lean man with a cheeky grin, pointed out, “Well, would you look at that.”

Jack followed the direction of his gaze, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what they were referring to. The warm water and the liquor’s effects had left him in an unmistakably compromising state, and he quickly shifted to sit up straighter, his cheeks flushing a faint red.

The group of men burst into laughter, though their tone was more playful than mocking. “Don’t worry, Samurai,” one of them said with a wink. “It happens to everyone here. Think of it as… part of the experience.”

Jack cleared his throat, feeling both embarrassed and strangely amused by their casual demeanor. He wasn’t sure whether to blame the liquor, the bath, or the harem boys themselves, but one thing was certain—this was a night unlike any other he’d experienced.

The harem boys guided Jack from the bath to the heart-shaped bed, their movements fluid and practiced. The room was filled with a soft, golden glow that seemed to pulse in time with the distant hum of the inn’s music. Jack, now dressed in a light robe provided by the attendants, sat down hesitantly, his damp hair falling loosely over his shoulders.

“Lie down, Samurai,” one of the men said softly, gesturing to the bed. His voice was calm, soothing, and Jack found himself complying without hesitation.

As he stretched out on the plush bed, the boys moved around him with care. One began to massage his arms, kneading away the tension that had been building for what felt like years. Another worked on his back, his strong hands expertly pressing into the tight muscles along Jack’s shoulders and spine. His legs, feet, and even his hands weren’t spared the attention, each boy ensuring every part of him was thoroughly tended to.

Another attendant, a younger man with soft features, approached with a small jar of a fragrant cream. He leaned over Jack, spreading the mask gently across his face. “This will help with the wear and tear of your travels,” he said with a smile.

As Jack relaxed under their care, the boys began to ask him questions. Their voices were gentle, curious. “Tell us about your life, Samurai,” one of them asked, his hands still working over Jack’s calves. “What brings you here?”

Jack hesitated at first, but the liquor had loosened his tongue. “My life has been… a long battle,” he began, his voice heavy. “I fight to return to my home, to undo the evil that has taken everything from me. Every day is a struggle—another fight, another challenge.”

The boys listened intently, their hands never ceasing their work. One of them, the man massaging Jack’s shoulders, frowned slightly. “It sounds exhausting,” he said softly. “To live with such a burden. Have you ever thought of letting it go?”

Jack’s brow furrowed, but before he could respond, another boy—a playful one with a mischievous smile—spoke up. “You could stay here,” he suggested. “Achieve peace. This place could be your refuge.”

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but a soft, melodic tone interrupted him. One of the boys had retrieved a singing bowl, its rim gliding under his practiced touch. The sound filled the room, vibrating softly through the air and into Jack’s very core. It was unlike anything he’d ever heard, a sound that seemed to strip away the layers of tension and pain he had carried for so long.

His thoughts grew hazy as the boys guided him to another part of the room. This area was set up for grooming, with mirrors framed in gold and trays of combs, oils, and brushes neatly arranged. One of the attendants began brushing Jack’s damp hair, while another trimmed his beard with precise care.

As they worked, the questions continued. “What else do you remember about your life?” one of them asked gently.

Jack’s eyes softened, his defenses slipping further. “The hardships,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “The battles, the loss… I’ve been fighting for so long, I don’t know what peace even feels like anymore.”

One of the boys, who had been running his fingers through Jack’s freshly combed hair, spoke softly. “Then perhaps it’s time to stop fighting.”

The words lingered in the air, carried by the soft hum of the singing bowl. Jack couldn’t help but consider them. The longer he stayed here, the more the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift. Time felt strange in this place; what had been hours felt like mere moments. The thought of staying—just for a little longer—grew more tempting.

Jack glanced at the group of attendants, their serene smiles and gentle hands easing him into a state of complete relaxation. His heart, which had long been hardened by the trials of his journey, softened slightly. Perhaps, just for now, he could allow himself this peace.

Finally, he closed his eyes and gave a slight nod. “I will stay.”

The first boy, Takeshi, with his raven hair and piercing blue eyes, had a smile that could charm the toughest of warriors. His little form was wrapped in a kimono of deep midnight blue, adorned with delicate silver threads that shimmered like stars in the candlelight.

The second, Akihiro, had skin as pale as the moon and hair as gold as the sun, with eyes that held the warmth of a summer's embrace. His kimono was a soft shade of ivory, with intricate gold embroidery that mirrored the patterns of cherry blossoms. Next to him, Satoru's emerald eyes sparkled with mischief, his crimson kimono a stark contrast to his raven hair, hinting at the passion that lay within.

The remaining four introduced themselves as well: Ryuu, whose kimono was as fiery as his spirit; Kaito, whose eyes were the color of the stormy sea and whose demeanor was as mysterious as the depths of the ocean; Yukito, whose kimono of gentle lavender whispered of his tender soul; and finally, Hiro, whose kimono was the color of freshly fallen snow, reflecting the purity and innocence that seemed to radiate from his very being.

The boys' gazes held a hint of something more than mere welcoming, something that sent a shiver down Jack’s spine. They spoke in soft, hypnotic tones, their voices laced with urges of desire that seemed to fill the very air around him. The harem of men had two conditions for his acceptance into their fold, they explained.

Firstly, he must agree to lock away his manhood in a chastity cage, a symbol of his commitment to their unique form of service. Secondly, he must engage in an unbridled orgy, allowing the hypnotic tunes of a singing bowl to guide him through the evening's carnally ecstatic ritual.

Jack's brow furrowed in protest, his hand reflexively moving to the sword at his side. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his voice a low growl of discomfort. The thought of such a restriction was foreign to his warrior's spirit, and the idea of an orgy, though not entirely unwelcome, was certainly unexpected. Yet, the allure of the harem's beauty and the mysterious aura of the mansion made his resolve waver like the flame of a candle in the breeze.

Takeshi stepped forward, his smile never faltering. His eyes locked onto Jack's, and his hand reached out to lightly touch the samurai's cheek. "Do not fear, warrior," he cooed, his voice a velvety caress. "The cage is a symbol of your dedication to us, to the experiences that await you here. It is not a prison, but a gateway to new pleasures." As the other boys closed in, their fingertips grazed jack’s skin, sending shivers of unfamiliar sensations through his body. He felt a gentle pull, as if the very air was coaxing him to comply.

Akihiro offered the chastity cage, its golden metal gleaming in the soft glow of the candles. It was an intricate piece of craftsmanship, adorned with delicate engravings of entwined lovers and blooming flowers. The warmth of the metal seemed to pulse with the promise of pleasure. Jack hesitated, but the hypnotic allure of their touch grew stronger, his thoughts swirling like leaves in a tempest.

The surrounding walls around them began to morph, its walls shifting and flowing like a living tapestry. The grand hall dissolved into a surreal dreamscape, an erotic playground that seemed to exist solely to tantalize the senses. The air grew thick with the scent of jasmine, and the floor became a soft, velvet sea beneath his feet. The harem boys flitted around him like ethereal beings, each one more enticing than the last, whispering sweet nothings that danced around the edges of his consciousness.

Jack's hand hovered over the chastity cage, his mind racing with thoughts of rebellion and curiosity. Yet, the gentle yet insistent pressure of the harem's touch washed away his resistance like sand before the tide. He felt his body relax, his will bending to the seductive power of their words and touch. His eyes grew heavy, and his breathing slowed as their hypnotic whispers painted a vivid picture of the unbridled pleasure that awaited him.

With trembling fingers, Jack unbuckled his obi, allowing the heavy layers of his hakama to fall away. The cool metal of the chastity cage was a stark contrast to the heat rising within him. As Akihiro guided the cage over his erection, Jack couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement. The cage clicked into place, locking his arousal within its embrace, a stark symbol of his surrender to the harem's will.

The moment the cage was secured, the harem boys broke into a fit of giggles, their laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes. They led Jack to the center of the room where a large, plush futon had appeared, surrounded by a sea of velvet pillows. The singing bowl, which had been silently watching the exchange from the shadows, began to hum. The vibrations grew louder, resonating through the air and into Jack's very bones. The sound was mesmerizing, a siren's call that he could not resist. His eyes grew heavy, and his body felt as if it were made of liquid, swaying to the bowl's hypnotic melody.

The boys began to undress, each revealing their own unique beauty. Satoru's muscular chest rippled as he removed his kimono, his cock already erect and bobbing with excitement. Kaito's body was lean and toned, with a trail of hair leading from his navel to the base of his cock, which stood proudly at attention. Yukito, the delicate one, had skin softer than silk, his small, firm nipples pebbling with anticipation. Hiro's innocent gaze belied the fiery passion that lurked within, his body a canvas of untouched perfection.

The hypnotic hum of the singing bowl grew more intense, wrapping around Jack like a warm embrace, dissolving the last of his inhibitions. He could feel his own cock strain against the confines of the chastity cage, begging for release. The harem boys lay down on the futon, creating a sensual mosaic of skin and fabric.

The bowl's vibrations grew stronger, resonating through Jack's body as if he were a living instrument. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a low moan as the music took hold of his very soul. The air grew electric with desire, and he felt the mattress shift beneath him as the boys arranged themselves around him. He was the center of their attention, the object of their collective lust and admiration.

Ryuu, the fiery one, was the first to act. He straddled Jack's chest, his cock a vibrant shade of coral against the samurai's tanned skin. Leaning down, he captured Jack's mouth in a kiss that was both fiery and tender. The taste of him was like a spark that ignited Jack's passion, making him ache to feel more.

The other boys followed suit, their hands exploring every inch of Jack's body. They were like skilled artisans, each one knowing exactly where to touch, where to kiss, to elicit the most exquisite reactions. Akihiro's gentle caress of his cheek was as comforting as a mother's touch, while Satoru's rough grip on his thigh was like the bite of a lover eager to claim him.

Kaito's stormy eyes searched his own.

The hypnotic vibrations of the singing bowl grew more insistent, the music resonating with the beating of Jack's heart. He felt as if he were floating in a warm, velvet embrace, the weight of his body forgotten amidst the swirling pleasure. The boys' hands danced over his skin, tracing the lines of his chest, his abs, and finally the bulge of his cock, trapped and pulsing within the chastity cage. They paid homage to his manhood, their lips and fingers worshipping the metal that contained his desire.

Yukito, the tender soul, began to kiss a trail down Jack's body, his soft, full lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. Each press of his mouth sent a shiver through the samurai's frame, his body arching in silent plea. When Yukito reached the base of the cage, he paused, looking up with eyes filled with a mix of innocence and lust. With a gentle touch, he traced the outline of Jack's trapped erection, eliciting a moan that seemed to resonate with the very air around them.

Takeshi, the master of seduction, took hold of the singing bowl, its vibrations now a deep, resonating bass that seemed to echo the pounding of Jack's heart. The other boys began to kiss and touch each other, their bodies moving in a sensual dance as old as time itself. The sight of their passion was almost too much for Jack to bear, his cock straining against the unforgiving metal. The cage grew warm from his arousal.

The air grew thick with the scent of desire as the harem's hands moved in unison, teasing and stroking Jack's body. Their lips and tongues found every sensitive spot, leaving no inch untouched. The heat of their breath against his skin sent waves of pleasure crashing through him. He could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building, a pressure that grew with each stroke, each kiss, each whispered word of encouragement.

Hiro, the youngest, approached shyly, his snow-white kimono fluttering like the petals of a cherry blossom. He knelt beside the futon and took Jack's hand, placing it on the cage. The samurai's grip tightened, his knuckles turning white as the pressure grew. Hiro looked into his eyes, his own filled with a gentle warmth that seemed to pierce the haze of lust that clouded Jack's mind. With a soft smile, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on the padlock that kept Jack's cock imprisoned. The metal grew hot, as if responding to the touch of his lips.

The singing bowl reached a crescendo, the vibrations resonating through the room and into Jack's soul. The harem's movements grew more frenzied, their bodies tangling together in a passionate display of eroticism. The sight was overwhelming, Jack could feel the beginnings of an orgasm, a storm gathering on the horizon of his consciousness. His hips bucked, seeking relief from the relentless teasing.

Akihiro took mercy on him, sliding his hand between the bars of the chastity cage. His touch was feather-light, his fingertips dancing over the sensitive head of Jack's cock. The sensation was electric, sending bolts of pleasure through Jack's body. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a guttural moan, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The other boys took turns, each one offering their own brand of torturous pleasure, their hands moving in perfect harmony with the bowl's pulsating rhythm.

The pressure grew unbearable, and Jack felt as though he was on the precipice of something profound. He could feel the beginnings of his climax, a coil of ecstasy winding tightly within him. The cage grew slick with pre-cum, a testament to his desperate need for release.

Yet, the lock remained steadfast.

Akihiro, one of the harem men who had been watching Jack sends a quiet smile his way. His eyes were gentle, yet there was something mysterious about them. He spoke in a soft, reassuring tone, “You’ve done enough, Jack. You’ve showed that you are indeed promising for us all. Your mission is over. All your struggles, all your pain… they’ll be gone by morning. You can rest now.”

Jack blinked slowly, his exhaustion overcoming him. Akihiro’s words felt like a balm to his soul, a promise of peace he had longed for but never believed he would see. His head felt heavy, his eyelids drooping. He gave a small nod. “I can rest… at last…” he whispered.

Akihiro placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Jack collapses back onto the bed, and within moments, the weight of sleep consumed him. His breathing steadied, and the room fell still.

But as Jack slept, the world around him began to change. The inn, once a place of comfort, began to shimmer and twist. The walls cracked, the wooden floor groaned and splintered, and the warm air turned cold and thick. The peaceful atmosphere had been an illusion, one crafted to deceive the weary traveler. As the illusion broke, the truth revealed itself.

The harem men, now no longer hidden in human forms, transformed into creatures of darkness. Akihiro’s body lengthened, his skin turning scaly as his eyes glowed bright red. He was no longer the charming man who had spoken to Jack, but a serpent-like beast, coiled and ready. The others, once handsome and gentle, now revealed their true monstrous yet beautiful forms, each one a creature that thrived on human desire.

The world around them was no longer the inn, but a vast, desolate desert. The sands stretched endlessly in all directions, and the sky above was an oppressive shade of deep orange. This was the true world — the one hidden beneath the illusion, a world where they had lured countless souls over the centuries.

Akihiro grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. “We’ve finally found him. A worthy mate after all this time,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Another of the harem men, Yukito, who appeared as a towering, majestic wolf, shook his head. “Let him rest, Akihiro. He’s been through enough. We’ll have plenty of time to enjoy our new companion when he wakes.”

Akihiro clicked his tongue but conceded. “Fine. But the wait is almost unbearable.”

The men gathered around Jack’s sleeping form, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. As they watched, Jack’s appearance began to shift. The weariness left his body, replaced with something more regal. His clothes changed, too, from the familiar samurai armor to flowing white robes with purple accents. The outfit looked almost like something from an ancient kingdom, regal and princely. It was as if the weight of his past life had been shed, and something new, something more fitting for his transformation, had taken its place.

At the center of the desert, a figure appeared — one that towered over the harem men. His name was Hed, their leader, the one who had controlled them all for centuries. Hed stood tall and imposing, his wild black hair spreading out like a storm. His tanned skin gleamed under the desert sun, and his powerful, muscular frame was on full display. He wore golden cuffs on his wrists and a dark green vest that hung open to reveal his well-defined chest. His pants were wide and billowed out at the cuffs, tied with a golden-brown belt, and he stood barefoot, his feet firmly planted in the sand.

Hed’s presence was overwhelming, his gaze locking onto the harem men with a knowing smirk. “Akihiro, it seems you were right. Jack is a worthy mate,” he said, his voice low and powerful.

Akihiro nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Yes, master. He is the one we’ve been searching for.”

Hed’s smile was almost predatory. “Let him rest. When he wakes, he will join us in this world. And then, we shall see if he is truly ready for the life we’ve prepared for him.”

The harem men stepped back, watching Jack as he slept peacefully, unaware of the transformation that had taken place around him. The desert stretched on, endless and barren, and the harem men, though monstrous in form, stood silently, waiting for the moment when Jack would awaken and face the truth of his new life.

As the night stretched on, the desert was still, the only sound the quiet shifting of the sands. Jack’s fate, sealed by the harem’s dark desires, would unfold in the morning. But for now, he slept, unaware of the world that had changed around him.

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 5

masterlist

It had been a normal morning for (Y/N), that is, until he received the call from Inko. She was frantic, her voice a mixture of concern and embarrassment. Izuku had forgotten his lunch again, and with his schedule already packed, there was no way he could go home to get it. Inko, naturally, was worried that her son would be hungry for the rest of the day.

(Y/N) sighed, already knowing what was expected of him. It wasn’t like he had any personal attachment to the boy yet—he was just doing what Inko had asked. After all, it wasn’t much trouble, and the thought of Izuku going without lunch felt like a small, easily fixed problem.

But when Inko had asked him to run to the school, he hadn’t anticipated how dramatic it would turn out to be.

A few minutes later, (Y/N) was darting from rooftop to rooftop, the lunchbox in hand. The day was clear, and as he reached the school, his well-timed leap landed him smoothly on the window ledge of Izuku’s classroom. The students inside gasped, watching the maid-like figure—or rather, the feminine-looking male—gracefully land on the ledge like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Inside, the class was in session, and the teacher was in the middle of explaining something when the window suddenly creaked open. The teacher’s gaze shifted from the chalkboard to the window, where (Y/N) stood, almost casually. He knocked lightly on the glass.

With wide eyes, the teacher, still in shock, opened the window.

“Um… can I help you?” the teacher asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

(Y/N) smiled politely, his voice calm. “I’ve brought Izuku his lunch. He left it at home.”

Izuku, sitting at his desk, turned to see (Y/N) standing in the window. His eyes widened in surprise as (Y/N) passed the lunchbox to him.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Izuku said, a bit embarrassed by the attention, but grateful.

The moment the lunchbox was handed over, the murmurs from the class began. Whispers of curiosity and judgment flooded the air, but it was one voice that cut through the noise—the unmistakable, aggressive voice of Bakugou Katsuki.

“What the hell is this?” Bakugou’s harsh tone made everyone pause. “What kind of weirdo is this?”

Katsuki’s gaze shifted between (Y/N) and Izuku, his sharp eyes narrowing at the seemingly delicate figure standing in the window. He couldn’t quite place the strange vibe about (Y/N)—there was something off, something that didn’t sit well with him. Despite the feminine features, there was a hidden strength in the way (Y/N) held himself, and it bothered Bakugou. The other students were whispering, clearly fascinated by the unusual sight of a maid-like male in their classroom, and Bakugou didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Oi, you’re a guy, right?” Bakugou demanded, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why the hell do you look like that? You some kind of freak?”

(Y/N) didn’t flinch, his gaze steady and unamused as he locked eyes with Bakugou. “Not everyone fits your idea of what ‘normal’ is,” he said coolly.

That’s when the murmurs turned into full-blown mutters of jealousy, curiosity, and mockery from the other students. Some of them laughed under their breath, while others whispered about how (Y/N) must be doing something for Izuku. Bakugou’s stare was burning, his frustration growing. The teacher, still in shock, hesitated, unsure of what to say or do.

Finally, Bakugou’s patience snapped.

“After school. You and me. Fight me,” Bakugou snarled, pointing a finger at (Y/N), his hands clenched into fists. His tone was commanding, daring (Y/N) to refuse.

(Y/N) remained silent for a moment, considering the offer. He didn’t care about Bakugou’s attitude, nor did he particularly care about showing off. But something about the kid’s anger—his constant need to assert dominance—felt almost laughable. Still, (Y/N) knew it was best to teach him a lesson.

• timeskip •

When school let out, Bakugou was already waiting by the gates, looking agitated and eager to prove himself. The other students had gathered around, eager to see the fight. They expected Bakugou to wipe the floor with (Y/N), who was still dressed in his usual maid-like uniform, his expression calm, almost uninterested in the spectacle he was about to partake in.

(Y/N) strolled over to the designated area, his steps relaxed and measured. Bakugou’s eyes burned with frustration, his hands sparking with his explosive quirk as he prepared for the fight.

“Ready to get your ass handed to you, weirdo?” Bakugou yelled, his voice grating with annoyance.

(Y/N) didn’t answer, merely taking a step back and picking up a small, toothpick-sized stick that had been lying around on the ground. The crowd’s chatter grew louder, some of them snickering, thinking this was going to be a quick show of dominance from Bakugou. After all, who would take a fight seriously when their opponent was using such a puny weapon?

Bakugou sneered, readying his hands to explode. “You think you can beat me with that?” he mocked, already feeling the fire in his hands ignite. “Pathetic!”

Without warning, Bakugou lunged at (Y/N), his quirk flaring up. He threw an explosive punch, intending to blow the smaller figure away. But (Y/N), unfazed, side-stepped with ease, the toothpick-sized stick in his hand never faltering.

Before Bakugou could even process his failed strike, (Y/N) reached out, tapping the side of his face with the stick. It wasn’t hard, but the effect was immediate. Bakugou froze in shock, his body temporarily paralyzed by the sheer speed and precision of the tap.

“Is this really all you’ve got?” (Y/N) said, his voice low and almost bored. “You’re all bark and no bite.”

Bakugou’s face flushed with rage, his fists clenched tighter as he powered up for another strike. But this time, (Y/N) didn’t move. Instead, he stood there, his posture unbothered.

With a swift movement, (Y/N) pressed the stick against Bakugou’s chest, using just the slightest amount of pressure to send the blonde boy stumbling back, his body pushed off balance by the touch. The crowd went silent, surprised by how easily (Y/N) had dominated the fight.

Bakugou, now visibly fuming and humiliated, gritted his teeth. “You… you bastard…” he spat, struggling to regain his posture.

(Y/N) simply lowered the stick, a faint smirk on his face as he stepped back. “I don’t fight for entertainment, Bakugou. You’re not worth the time or energy.” His eyes narrowed. “Next time, don’t waste my time.”

With that, (Y/N) turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Bakugou, who stood in the middle of the crowd, seething. The other students stared at (Y/N), unsure whether they should be impressed or terrified by how easily he had subdued the explosive teen.

Izuku, watching from the side, felt a small sense of relief and admiration. He never expected someone like (Y/N) to not only stick around, but to also protect him—both in and out of school.

Bakugou was left to stew in his embarrassment, but deep down, he knew better than to challenge (Y/N) again. He had just met his match—and it was a match he never saw coming.

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 1

masterlist

It was far too early in the morning for most people to be awake, but (Y/N) was no stranger to odd hours. Dressed in a black maid’s uniform that fell just below his knees, he walked briskly down the dimly lit streets. The soft swishing of the skirt was oddly calming; he found the outfit freeing in a way he hadn’t expected when his former employer had mistakenly assumed he was female. Not that it mattered anymore—he’d been fired yesterday.

The memory of his firing was hazy, like most things. His forgetful nature made even significant events feel distant, but one detail stood out: the conversation.

“You’re fired,” his boss had said bluntly.

(Y/N) had tilted his head, confused. “Who are you again?”

It hadn’t gone over well. Regardless, he’d left the job without much protest, thinking only of his next steps. Homelessness wasn’t appealing, so finding another job was now his top priority.

As he walked, his sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a green-haired boy jogging in the opposite direction. The boy was clearly exhausted but determined, sweat dripping down his face as he pushed himself forward. Not far behind, a woman stood on the sidewalk, clutching her robe tightly around herself. She looked worried, her gaze fixed on the boy as he disappeared into the distance.

(Y/N) slowed his pace, curiosity piqued. The woman’s anxiety was palpable, and before he even realized what he was doing, he stepped closer, his silent movements startling her.

“Ah!” she gasped, spinning around. Her wide eyes locked onto his, and she pressed a hand to her chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” (Y/N) said calmly, his voice soft but steady. “You seemed worried. Can I help?”

The woman hesitated, studying him. Despite the maid’s uniform, his demeanor was calm and collected. “It’s my son,” she admitted after a moment. “He’s been pushing himself too hard lately…training. I just—” She stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind. It’s not your concern.”

“I can be whatever you need,” (Y/N) said simply.

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He held up a hand and began counting on his fingers. “A butler, a maid, a babysitter, a cleaner, a bodyguard…” He paused, noticing how her expression shifted at the last option.

“A bodyguard?” she repeated, her tone skeptical.

“Yes.” His expression remained blank, though his tone carried a faint hint of confidence. “I can protect him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The woman, Inko, looked him over carefully. Despite his slight build and unassuming appearance, there was something about him—an air of quiet strength. But before agreeing, she asked cautiously, “How much do you charge for your…services?”

“A warm meal and a place to rest my head,” he replied without hesitation.

Her eyes softened, and she frowned slightly. He was homeless, wasn’t he? That explained a lot. Her heart ached at the thought of this young person out on the streets. She nodded, deciding then and there. “Alright. Follow me.”

She led him into her modest home, guiding him to a small guest room. “It’s not much, but you’re welcome to stay here.”

(Y/N) stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the space. It was plain but clean, with a neatly made bed and a small dresser. He set down the small bag he carried and turned to Inko as she said, “I hope this will do… Miss?”

He blinked, tilting his head slightly before saying, “Oh, yeah, by the way…I’m a boy.”

Inko froze, her face flushing with embarrassment. “Oh! I-I’m so sorry! I thought—because of the dress—”

“It’s fine,” he said, unbothered. “It’s comfortable.”

She nodded quickly, still flustered but relieved he didn’t seem offended. “Well, um, rest up, and we can talk more later. I’ll prepare breakfast.”

(Y/N) gave a small nod and turned back to the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was warm here, and the idea of stability—even if temporary—eased a tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax. This new job might be unconventional, but he had a feeling it would be interesting.

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 11

masterlist

The memory came like a fleeting shadow sweeping across (Y/N)’s mind as he stood on the UA training grounds. It wasn’t often that his thoughts wandered—his focus tended to remain in the here and now—but this time, the sensation of blinding speed brought him back to a particular moment, years before he ever set foot in this world.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 •

The training field was alive with the sounds of movement—quick, sharp, and rhythmic. The clang of steel echoed through the air, mingling with the light chatter and occasional scolding of Tengen Uzui’s wives in the background. Tengen himself stood at the center of the chaos, the sun gleaming off his twin blades and his elaborate headpiece as he crossed his arms, smirking at the younger boy standing a few feet away.

(Y/N), younger but no less stoic, stood poised with a wooden training sword in hand, his breaths steady but shallow, a light sheen of sweat gleaming on his forehead. His usually calm demeanor was disrupted by exhaustion that tugged at his limbs.

“Again,” Tengen commanded, his deep voice cutting through the soundscape like a drumbeat. “You’re fast, kid, no doubt about it. But if you’re going to make it flashy enough to keep up with me, you’ll need more than just speed. Show me precision. Show me style!”

(Y/N) didn’t respond, at least not verbally. His blank expression barely shifted as he tightened his grip on the sword, his legs shifting slightly in preparation. He was tired—bone-tired—but he wasn’t about to stop now. Not while Uzui was watching.

In a blur of motion, Tengen vanished, his speed so great that even the sound of his sandals hitting the ground was delayed. (Y/N) barely caught the movement in his peripheral vision, his instincts screaming at him to react. He ducked low, narrowly avoiding the edge of Tengen’s blade, and sprang backward, his body moving purely on muscle memory.

“Not bad,” Tengen said, his voice surprisingly close, though his form was now perched on a nearby rock. “But not good enough!” He lunged again, this time faster, his movements a chaotic symphony of speed and power.

(Y/N) darted to the side, his wooden sword coming up to deflect the strike. The impact rattled through his arms, and he staggered slightly, but he managed to stay upright. The world around him was a blur—each of Tengen’s movements was a challenge to track, let alone counter.

From the sidelines, Tengen’s wives watched with varying degrees of concern and encouragement.

“Hina, look at him! He’s going to fall over any second!” Suma whined, clutching her hands to her chest. “We should stop this!”

Makio, far less sympathetic, crossed her arms with a huff. “Stop babying him, Suma. He’s fine. Right, Hina?”

Hina, ever the composed one, placed a calming hand on Suma’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Lord Tengen wouldn’t push him if he couldn’t handle it. Trust him.”

“No babying him my lovely wives!” Tengen called out without breaking stride, his voice as commanding as ever yet still respectful— because yes, tengen drinks his respect woman juice daily…especially from the breast of his wives.

“He doesn’t need your pity. What he needs is determination. Isn’t that right, young (L/N)?”

(Y/N) didn’t answer, but his actions spoke for him. He took a deep breath, his form lowering slightly as he focused. This time, his movements were sharper, quicker, and more deliberate. He surged forward, his wooden sword slicing through the air in a strike aimed at Tengen’s midsection.

The Sound Hashira blocked it easily, though there was a glint of approval in his eyes. “Not bad, kid! But you’re still too slow if you want to match this!”

Tengen moved again, faster than before, his form a blur of color and sound. (Y/N) clenched his jaw, his breathing steadying as he switched tactics. His legs propelled him forward in a burst of speed that left even Tengen momentarily caught off guard. He pivoted at the last second, his sword slashing upward in a motion so fluid and quick that the air itself seemed to ripple.

For a brief moment, (Y/N) moved as if he were sound—his body a whisper of motion, too fast for the untrained eye to follow.

He landed several feet away, his sword lowered, his breaths heavy but even. The faintest hint of satisfaction flickered across his usually indifferent face.

Tengen, now standing a few paces away, let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “That’s more like it! I knew you had it in you, young (L/N)! You might even be able to keep up with me one day!”

Before the moment could sink in, the memory fractured, fading away like mist in the wind.

(Y/N)’s gaze refocused, the present coming back into sharp relief. His breathing was as steady as ever, but for the briefest moment, there was the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. It was gone before anyone could notice.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙚𝙣𝙙 •

“0.43 seconds,” Aizawa repeated from across the training grounds, his tone as indifferent as ever but his eyes sharp with intrigue.

And for a moment, as Bakugo’s furious sputtering filled the air, (Y/N) thought back to Uzui’s voice—“I knew you could do it.”

As the rest of the class stared at the board displaying (Y/N)’s impossible 0.43-second time, he casually walked over to stand beside Izuku, whose expression betrayed a mix of awe and nervousness. Izuku’s green eyes darted toward Bakugo, whose smug confidence had turned into a scowl, his fists clenching and crackling with small explosions.

“It’s your turn,” (Y/N) said simply, glancing at Izuku. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was an edge of expectation in his voice.

Izuku swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath. “Right. My turn…” He stepped forward as Aizawa called his name, his hands trembling slightly.

“You’ll be fine,” (Y/N) added, not looking directly at him. “Ignore the brat.” His gaze flickered briefly toward Bakugo, who froze mid-sneer, his teeth grinding audibly.

Izuku glanced at (Y/N), a flicker of gratitude crossing his face, though it quickly faded as the next test began.

Izuku nodded hesitantly, the words giving him a small but noticeable boost of confidence. He stepped up to the starting line, but as the whistle blew and his legs carried him forward, it was clear he wasn’t anywhere near the speeds his classmates had achieved. His movements were clumsy, lacking the precision and strength needed to keep up with the others.

By the time he crossed the finish line, panting and red-faced, the results were as underwhelming as he’d feared. Bakugo’s barking laughter cut through the silence.

“Hah! You call that running, Deku? Even the extras here could beat that!” Bakugo sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Izuku’s shoulders sagged slightly, his confidence wavering, but before Bakugo could press further, (Y/N)’s calm voice broke through.

“Focus on yourself,” (Y/N) said coldly, his disinterest cutting deeper than any insult could. “You’re wasting energy trying to prove something to people who don’t care.”

“Who are you calling a brat, huh?! I’ll—” Bakugo started, but (Y/N) cut him off with a flat look.

“I said focus on yourself brat.”

Bakugo flinched at the cold look thrown his way, his glare sharpening, but he doesn’t say anything else.

The tests that followed were grueling, with the students pushed to their limits in various physical and quirk-based activities. Bakugo, true to his fiery nature, remained loud and aggressive, barking out challenges to the rest of the class. “Come on, you extras! I know you can do better than that—oh wait, you can’t!”

(Y/N), however, was unfazed. Every time Bakugo tried to outdo the rest of the class, (Y/N) would step in silently and match or surpass his score, his actions speaking louder than words. Whether it was the standing long jump, grip strength test, or sidesteps, (Y/N) completed them with an effortless precision that left Bakugo’s boasts hanging in the air.

Izuku, on the other hand, struggled with each test. His lack of control over One For All, coupled with his already limited physical capabilities, left him at the bottom of nearly every ranking. And yet, through it all, (Y/N) stayed close by, watching Izuku’s efforts with an analytical gaze.

“You’re relying too much on instinct,” (Y/N) said during one test, his voice low so only Izuku could hear. “You’ll never get better if you don’t train your body and mind to handle the strain. I’ll change up your training regimen next time. No more excuses.”

Izuku shivered at the thought, memories of their last training session flashing through his mind. (Y/N) had left him gasping for air, bruised but somehow inspired, and it seemed he was about to go through it all again.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Izuku stammered, more nervous than ever.

“Good.” (Y/N)’s faint smirk was the only sign he was pleased.

By the time the pitching test—the final event—rolled around, Izuku was already dreading the outcome. As expected, Bakugo was the first to land an impressive throw, his explosion-boosted pitch soaring far into the distance.

“Beat that, extras!” he shouted, grinning wickedly as the rest of the class took their turns.

When it was Izuku’s turn, the murmurs of doubt began almost immediately. “He’s going to fail again,” someone whispered.

Izuku held the ball nervously, his heart hammering in his chest. The weight of everyone’s expectations—or lack thereof—felt heavier than the ball itself.

“You’re useless, Deku!” Bakugo shouted from the sidelines, his voice sharp and cutting. “What’re you even doing here? Just throw it and get it over with!”

Izuku hesitated, the familiar sting of Bakugo’s words settling deep in his chest. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught (Y/N)’s gaze.

“You know what to do,” (Y/N) said calmly, his arms crossed as he stood watching.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku channeled the small amount of One For All he had access to into his arm, careful not to let the power spread too far. His grip tightened on the ball as he raised it. This is it.

With a determined shout, Izuku threw the ball, the sheer force of One For All sending it flying further than anyone expected. The class went silent as the ball finally landed, the distance displayed on the screen.

Even Bakugo’s usual commentary was replaced by stunned silence, though it didn’t last long.

“WHAT THE HELL, DEKU?!” Bakugo roared, his explosions crackling violently in his palms. “You’ve been lying this whole time?! You’ve got a Quirk?!”

Izuku barely had time to stammer out a response before Bakugo lunged at him, explosions lighting up his path. Before he could reach Izuku, Aizawa’s scarf shot out, wrapping around Bakugo and pinning him in place.

“Enough,” Aizawa said flatly, his Quirk already erasing Bakugo’s. “Control yourself, or you’ll be expelled before the day’s over.”

Bakugo growled in frustration, but he stopped struggling, his glare never leaving Izuku.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) stepped up beside Izuku, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he said simply. “Let’s go.”

Izuku nodded quickly, allowing (Y/N) to guide him back toward the rest of the class. His heart was still pounding, but for the first time, it wasn’t entirely out of fear.