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 9

masterlist

Izuku couldn’t stop fidgeting. His nervous energy filled the air of the small apartment, his knees bouncing furiously as he sat on the couch. In his hands, he held a crumpled piece of paper, the last set of practice notes he’d scribbled down before the UA entrance exam.

Across from him, (Y/N) sat with one leg crossed over the other, sipping tea. His ever-present maid outfit was as spotless as always, an odd contrast to the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts Izuku seemed to be drowning in.

“You’re going to vibrate right through the floor if you keep that up,” (Y/N) commented, not bothering to look up from his tea.

Izuku froze, forcing his legs still. “S-Sorry! I’m just—what if I didn’t pass? What if I messed up? What if—”

(Y/N) cut him off with a deadpan stare. “You’ve already asked me this five times since we got back from the exam. My answer hasn’t changed.”

Izuku sighed, slumping back against the couch. He stared up at the ceiling. “It’s just… UA. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. If I didn’t pass, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Cry, eat some grilled salmon, and move on,” (Y/N) said, his tone completely unfazed. “Besides, you probably did fine. You’re too stubborn to fail at something you actually care about.”

Izuku blinked, his cheeks heating up. “You really think so?”

(Y/N) glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wouldn’t be sitting here wasting my time with you if I thought otherwise.”

“HEY!”

(Y/n) snickers quietly to himself before taking a sip of his tea.

”Y-you can’t just say something like that and go about your day!”

”Do you hear that —“ (y/n) says staring out into the spacious room, looking around he turns his attention back to his drink.

“H-huh?!”

”Mhmm… must’ve been my imagination…” he sips his tea once more. “Could’ve sworn I heard a crybaby try and scold me.”

”HEY!”

A few days passed, the tension growing thicker with each moment the letter didn’t arrive. Izuku was doing his best to stay positive, but his nerves were clearly getting the better of him.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Izuku began one afternoon, standing awkwardly in the living room.

“Hmm?” (Y/N) was lounging on the floor, sharpening his sword with deliberate care. The sound of metal scraping against stone filled the room, oddly soothing.

“I was thinking… maybe we could train? You’re really strong, and I… I think I need to get stronger if I’m going to be a hero.”

(Y/N) paused, his hand stilling on the blade. Slowly, he looked up at Izuku, his expression unreadable.

“Train? With me?”

Izuku nodded eagerly. “Y-Yeah! I mean, you’re so fast and strong, even without a quirk. I think I could learn a lot from you!”

(Y/N) tilted his head. “You realize what you’re asking, right?”

Izuku nodded again, his determination clear. “I can handle it! Whatever you throw at me, I’ll—”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” (Y/N) interrupted, rising to his feet. He sheathed his sword and stretched lazily. “Alright, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

”But you’re the one who’s younger than me…” Izuku mumbles to himself.

The training session had been something Izuku was looking forward too. It had been decided by (Y/N) that the two would began training in the closet location of a forest, away from prying eyes. Izuku had expected sparring matches or maybe some running drills. What he got was… far worse.

“Dodge,” (Y/N) said simply, his tone almost bored.

“Dodge wha—”

The words barely left Izuku’s mouth before a pebble the size of a fist came hurtling toward his face. He barely managed to duck in time, stumbling over a tree root and landing flat on his back.

“Too slow,” (Y/N) said, already tossing another pebble.

“Wait! I wasn’t—ow!” Izuku yelped as the second pebble struck his shoulder.

“Heroes don’t get warm-up rounds,” (Y/N) said, his voice calm as he picked up a third pebble. “Now, get up.”

Izuku scrambled to his feet, his heart racing. He tried to focus, his eyes darting to (Y/N)’s hand as another pebble was launched his way. This time, he managed to sidestep it—only for a second pebble to hit his shin.

“How did you—”

“Focus,” (Y/N) said, cutting him off. “If you can’t handle this, how are you going to handle villains?”

The training escalated quickly. Pebbles turned into wooden sticks, then into hand-to-hand sparring. (Y/N) moved with the precision of a predator, his strikes calculated but never harsh enough to cause serious injury.

By the end of the first hour, Izuku was drenched in sweat, his muscles screaming in protest.

“Break?” he panted, doubling over.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who asked for this. Don’t tell me you’re giving up already.”

“N-No! I just—need a minute,” Izuku stammered.

(Y/N) sighed, leaning against a tree. “Fine. Three minutes. Then we’re running laps.”

Izuku groaned, collapsing onto the grass.

Yet despite the grueling pace, Izuku couldn’t help but feel grateful. (Y/N) pushed him harder than anyone ever had, but there was a strange kind of camaraderie in it.

“Why do you even train so much?” Izuku asked one day, nursing a bruise on his arm. “I know you probably didn’t want to be a hero or at least I don’t think you do…. I never did ask you what your dreams for the future were, I just went ahead and assumed…”

(Y/N) shrugged, tossing a stick into the fire they’d built for the evening. “Strength is useful, no matter what you want to do. Besides, I don’t trust anyone else to protect me.”

Izuku frowned. “But you’re so strong already. Don’t you think—”

“I think strength isn’t just about how much you can lift or how fast you can move,” (Y/N) interrupted. “It’s about being prepared. For anything.”

Izuku fell silent, watching the fire crackle. He hadn’t thought about it like that before.

A few weeks after the exam, the envelope finally arrived. Izuku sat on the couch, staring at it like it might bite him.

“You’ve been through worse in the last few days,” (Y/N) said, sipping his tea. “Just open it.”

Izuku took a deep breath and tore it open. The hologram of All Might appeared, smiling broadly.

“YOU DID IT, YOUNG MIDORIYA!” All Might boomed.

Izuku’s jaw dropped, tears spilling down his cheeks as All Might explained his scores. No villain points sure but he got by with enough points for rescue, surprisingly.

By the time the message ended, he was sobbing openly, clutching the letter to his chest.

(Y/N) watched him quietly, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he raised his tea in a mock toast. “Congrats, hero.”

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

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.

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.

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.

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 1

In the past…

The playground buzzed with the sound of children playing, their laughter ringing through the air. The warm scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the faint burn of rubber from the swings. A perfect afternoon—if not for the scene unfolding beneath the jungle gym.

A young Izuku Midoriya stood trembling, his tiny fists clenched at his sides.

Across from him, Katsuki Bakugo sneered, tiny explosions crackling at his palms. Behind Izuku, a smaller boy sniffled, rubbing at his eyes, too afraid to run.

“You seriously think you can play hero, Deku?” Katsuki scoffed. “You don’t even have a Quirk.”

Izuku’s breath hitched. His throat felt tight. But still, he stood firm, swallowing back his fear.

“I-I don’t have to have a Quirk t-to help others—”

His own voice betrayed him, stumbling over the words, his fear making them weak.

Katsuki’s smirk widened. “Pathetic.” He stepped forward;

Snap.

A branch broke.

The sound wasn’t close.

The kids froze. The crack had come from the treeline just beyond the playground, where the trees grew thick and dark.

Shadows pooled unnaturally between the trunks, too deep for the time of day.

Katsuki barely spared it a glance before turning back to Izuku. “Tch. Whatever.” He shoved past him, motioning for his friends to follow.

Izuku exhaled shakily, watching them leave. Then, as he turned to check on the boy behind him—

He felt it.

That prickling sensation creeping up his neck. The kind that told him—he wasn’t alone.

His gaze drifted back to the trees.

And there, perched among the twisted branches—something watched him.

It wasn’t an animal. Wasn’t a person. It was both—and neither.

The air around it rippled, warped, twisted—as if reality itself bent to accommodate its presence.

One massive, unblinking eye stared at him from the shadows.

Izuku’s breath caught.

Then it multiplied.

One became two.

Two became four.

Each set of eyes stacked atop the others—a grotesque, staring tower of sight.

Izuku staggered back, his little hands gripping his sleeves. He wanted to run. Wanted to scream. But his voice—his legs—wouldn’t work.

The eyes blinked.

And just like that—they were gone.

A rustle of leaves. A shift of wind.

Nothing more.

Izuku gasped, his tiny heart hammering against his ribs. He blinked, rubbed his eyes—

Had he imagined it?

“Zuku?”

His mother’s voice, soft and distant. Calling him from the park entrance.

Izuku swallowed, forcing himself to turn. “C-Coming, Mom!”

Still shaking, he ran toward her—never looking back.

Because deep in the trees, hidden where no sunlight reached—something was still watching.

And it would never stop.

In the present…

A news broadcast played somewhere in the background, the familiar report echoing through the streets.

“It all started in Qing Qing City, China—when a newborn baby was born aglow with a radiant light. The phenomenon spread across the world, and soon, the majority of the population developed supernatural abilities. These powers, known as ‘Quirks,’ shaped society as we know it. With power came conflict, but also—heroes.”

The city buzzed with excitement as a massive villain rampaged through the streets, his towering form knocking over lampposts and crushing pavement beneath his weight.

“Stay back!” a Pro Hero shouted, holding civilians at bay.

Izuku Midoriya, now a third-year junior high student, pushed his way through the crowd, notebook in hand, eyes wide with anticipation.

“No way—it’s Kamui Woods!”

The sleek Pro Hero leaped into action, twisting through the air as he extended wooden tendrils from his arms.

“The villain has used his Quirk for illegal activity!” Kamui Woods announced, his voice sharp and commanding. “I’ll put an end to this quickly!”

With a flick of his wrist, he launched Lacquered Chain Prison, binding the massive villain in place.

Izuku’s grip on his notebook tightened, scribbling furiously. First appearance of Lacquered Chain Prison—restraint-based Quirk, likely strong against brute force opponents!

A thunderous crash echoed across the block.

“CANYON CANNON!”

A blur of red and white streaked across the scene. In an instant, the giant villain was sent crashing to the pavement, knocked out cold.

From the dust emerged a tall, curvaceous woman, hands on her hips, a confident smirk gracing her face.

“Cameras ready, boys? I’m taking over from here!” Mt. Lady declared, flashing a grin at the reporters.

The crowd erupted in cheers. Photographers rushed forward, snapping shots of the new heroine’s grand debut.

Izuku barely noticed. He was still writing, absorbing, analyzing. His eyes darted between heroes, his mind racing.

“Are you aiming to be a hero, kid?” A bystander chuckled beside him.

Izuku looked up, startled, before laughing nervously. “Ah—w-well, yeah! I mean—I’ll do my best!”

His fingers clenched around the pen.

“Even if I don’t have a Quirk, I—”

His thoughts trailed off.

Somewhere in the back of the crowd—someone was watching.

Not cheering. Not taking pictures. Not reacting.

Just watching.

A figure, dressed in the same junior high uniform as Izuku, lingered near the edge of the scene. Their posture was relaxed, yet their head tilted ever so slightly—like an owl tracking its prey.

Their gaze, dark and unreadable, flickered in the sunlight.

And then—they were gone.

Izuku never noticed.

But had he turned—had he looked just a second longer—he might’ve recognized them.

Might’ve remembered their name.

But he didn’t.

Because nobody ever did.

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 17

masterlist

The snow crunched underfoot as Team 1—now dubbed the Tree Squad—stepped into the bustling Christmas tree lot. Twinkling string lights illuminated rows of firs dusted with fresh snow, and the crisp scent of pine hung in the air. For most people, picking out a tree was a joyous occasion. For this group, it was a mission.

“Alright, we’re here to get the biggest and flashiest tree this place has to offer,” Tengen declared, his voice booming with his usual flamboyance. He adjusted his fur-lined coat, standing tall and ready to conquer the holiday season.

“It has to be one that screams Merry Christmas!” Tanjiro added, holding a carefully curated list of tree requirements. His warm smile contrasted with the chaos brewing behind him.

“Who cares about screaming? Let’s get the one that looks the toughest!” Inosuke yelled, his wild demeanor drawing a few curious looks from passersby.

Bakugo, walking slightly behind the group, scowled. “This whole thing is stupid. Just grab one and let’s get out of here.”

Despite their wildly different approaches, the group’s eyes locked on the tree almost simultaneously. It was a towering, perfectly symmetrical spruce with thick, lush branches and a snowy coating that shimmered under the lights. It was the tree of all trees.

“That’s it,” Tengen said, his voice reverent. “That’s our tree.”

The squad began making their way toward it when another group—a family of four armed with determined holiday cheer—stepped in from the other side.

“Oh no, no, no,” the mother of the family said, eyeing the tree. “We saw this one first.”

Tanjiro hesitated, a polite smile on his face. “Oh, um, actually, I think we—”

The father stepped forward, cutting him off. “This tree’s perfect for us. It’s just the right size for our living room.”

Inosuke growled, stomping forward. “What do you mean it’s yours?! I claimed it first!”

“You didn’t even see it until two seconds ago!” one of the kids shot back.

“Kid, don’t test me!” Inosuke yelled, crouching slightly like he was about to charge.

Tanjiro quickly stepped between them, waving his hands. “Wait, wait, wait! There’s no need to fight. I’m sure we can come to an agreement—”

“There’s no agreement,” the mom said, her hands on her hips. “This tree is ours.”

“That’s not happening,” Bakugo growled, his hands starting to spark. “Back off before I make you.”

“Bakugo, no!” Tanjiro said, his eyes wide.

Tengen let out a dramatic sigh, stepping forward to take control of the situation. “Alright, enough of this squabbling. This is a matter that requires finesse.” He glanced at Tanjiro, who looked hopeful, then at Inosuke, who was itching for a fight, and finally at Bakugo, who looked moments away from blowing something up.

“Bakugo,” Tengen said with a sly smile. “Handle it.”

Bakugo’s grin was immediate and sinister. “Gladly.”

Before anyone could react, Bakugo stomped toward the family, hands sparking dangerously as he glared at them. “You’ve got ten seconds to walk away, or I’m lighting this whole tree lot up!”

The family gasped, immediately backing away in a panic.

“Okay, okay! Take it! Just don’t blow anything up!” the mom yelled as they quickly retreated, dragging their kids along.

Bakugo stood triumphantly next to the tree, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. “That’s how you get stuff done.”

Tanjiro buried his face in his hands. “That wasn’t very Christmas-like…”

“Maybe not,” Tengen said, already lifting the tree over his shoulder. “But it was flamboyant. Excellent work, Bakugo.”

“Damn right it was,” Bakugo said, still grinning.

The drive back home was quieter than expected, the massive tree tied securely to the roof of the car. Tanjiro sat in the passenger seat, his list crumpled in his hands as he replayed the events of the tree lot.

• 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 •

The Decor Squad—Momo, Nezuko, Kirishima, and Present Mic—pulled into the parking lot of their fifth store, frustration thick in the air. Nezuko quietly nibbled on a candy cane she had picked up at the first store, while Present Mic drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to a beat no one else could hear. Momo sat in the backseat, meticulously organizing a list of decorations they were supposed to pick up: ornaments, garlands, and lights. Kirishima, sitting beside her, looked out the window, trying to stay optimistic.

“I’m sure this one will have what we need!” he said with a grin, though even his unbreakable positivity was beginning to falter.

“It better,” Momo muttered under her breath, peeking at her phone’s map to confirm they hadn’t strayed too far from the previous store. “We’ve already wasted so much time.”

“Wasted time? Nah! It’s all part of the holiday adventure, baby!” Present Mic exclaimed from the driver’s seat, throwing the car into park. He turned to the group, his signature sunglasses reflecting the store’s neon sign. “C’mon, let’s make this the one!”

They climbed out of the car, Nezuko trailing behind them, clutching her candy cane. As they walked into the store, a wave of despair washed over the group.

The shelves were bare.

“Are you kidding me?!” Momo exclaimed, staring at the nearly empty aisle where garlands should have been. A single, tattered strand of silver tinsel dangled from a hook as if mocking them.

“This is worse than the last store,” Kirishima said, scratching the back of his head. He picked up a cracked bauble from the ornament section and frowned. “I mean, we can’t put this on the tree. It’d look so… unmanly.”

Nezuko tugged on Momo’s sleeve, pointing at a section of lights, only to reveal that they were all mismatched and half the boxes were open.

“I don’t think any of those will even work,” Momo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Alright! On to the next one!” Present Mic shouted, his energy unwavering. He spun on his heel and marched back toward the car, his long scarf trailing behind him like a banner of hope.

The group piled back into the car, exhaustion starting to set in. Nezuko, now curled up with her knees against her chest, peeked at the others as if wondering how long this would go on.

By the time they hit their eighth store, the mood in the car had shifted from frustration to quiet defeat. Kirishima slouched in his seat, staring out the window. Present Mic hummed softly to himself, trying to keep morale up, while Momo furiously scribbled notes in her notebook, trying to strategize their next move.

Finally, Kirishima sat up abruptly, his eyes wide as if a light bulb had gone off in his head. He turned to Momo, staring at her with a mix of disbelief and dawning realization.

“Momo,” he said slowly, “why didn’t you just make ornaments with your quirk?”

The car fell silent.

Momo blinked, her pencil hovering over her notebook. “…What?”

“You can literally create stuff,” Kirishima continued, gesturing wildly. “Like, you can make a cannon, but you can’t make a Christmas ornament? Why are we even driving around when you’ve got the solution inside you?”

Momo stared at him, her expression blank at first. Then, the weight of his words hit her like a freight train. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “You’re right.”

Present Mic slammed the brakes (even though they were already parked). “Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me we’ve been running all over town for no reason?!”

Nezuko, ever the quiet observer, tilted her head in mild confusion, as if to say, You’re just realizing this now?

“I—I didn’t even think about it,” Momo stammered, her cheeks flushing red. “I was so focused on the list and making sure we got everything we needed that I—”

“—forgot you’re basically a walking Christmas factory,” Kirishima finished, leaning back in his seat with an exasperated laugh.

Present Mic threw his hands in the air. “Alright, problem solved! Back to HQ we go!”

On the drive back, Momo sat quietly, her embarrassment still evident. She had already started sketching designs for ornaments, garlands, and even a star for the top of the tree in her notebook.

Kirishima, now fully back to his cheerful self, leaned over to peek at her drawings. “Those look awesome! See? We didn’t need those stores anyway.”

Present Mic turned up the radio, a Christmas song blaring through the car as he drove. “Let’s just pretend this was the plan all along, yeah? No one has to know!”

Nezuko, now munching on a fresh candy cane she had somehow acquired, nodded sagely in agreement.

As they pulled up to the house, Kirishima grinned at Momo. “Hey, at least we got to bond, right? And now you’re gonna make the most manly decorations ever.”

Momo couldn’t help but smile, despite herself. “Thanks, Kirishima. Next time, I’ll try to think things through a bit more.”

“Next time,” Present Mic chimed in, “let’s just stay home and skip the wild goose chase altogether!”

The group laughed as they grabbed their things and headed inside, ready to make up for lost time and finish decorating.

• 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 •

Team 3—(Y/N), Muichiro, Aizawa, and Zenitsu—piled into the car with their mission clear: replenish the snacks, restock the hot cocoa, and salvage the holiday cheer. As the car rumbled down the snowy road, the atmosphere was a mix of determination and quiet dread, mostly fueled by Zenitsu’s near-constant rambling.

“Why me? Why do I have to go? Hot cocoa isn’t even my thing! What if we get attacked by a demon on the way? Or worse, we run into a Karen in the grocery store?” Zenitsu wailed from the backseat, clutching the headrest in front of him like it was a lifeline.

Aizawa, in the driver’s seat, groaned. His scarf was lazily wrapped around his neck, and he was already regretting agreeing to this task. “Zenitsu, there are no demons here. Only stressed-out shoppers.”

“And that’s even worse!” Zenitsu shot back. “Have you seen people at the store during the holidays? It’s a madhouse!”

Muichiro, sitting beside him, stared out the window, his expression calm as ever. “If we’re attacked, (Y/N) can handle it. They’ve got Bakugo-level chaos energy when needed.”

(Y/N), sitting in the passenger seat, smirked and glanced back at their brother. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Muichiro. But let’s try not to start any fights. We just need snacks, not a showdown in the frozen food aisle.”

“Yeah, try telling that to Zenitsu,” Muichiro muttered under his breath, earning a dramatic gasp from Zenitsu.

The first grocery store was exactly as chaotic as Zenitsu had feared. People swarmed the aisles like vultures, snatching up the last of the holiday goodies. The shelves looked as though a tornado had passed through, with half-empty boxes of candy canes and torn-open hot cocoa packets scattered everywhere.

“Great,” (Y/N) muttered, surveying the wreckage. “This is worse than I expected.”

“I told you!” Zenitsu whispered urgently, sticking close to Aizawa like a nervous child. “This is a nightmare! We’ll never find what we need here!”

Muichiro wandered ahead, his expression unreadable as he scanned the shelves. He picked up a lone bag of marshmallows and held it up for inspection. “At least we’ve got these,” he said.

(Y/N) shook their head. “We’re going to need more than just marshmallows, Muichiro.”

By the time they reached the third store, tensions were high. Zenitsu was on edge, clutching a shopping basket like it was a weapon. Muichiro had taken it upon himself to grab anything that looked remotely useful, including an industrial-sized canister of whipped cream that no one asked for. Aizawa trailed behind them, looking like he was seconds away from curling up in the pet food aisle and taking a nap.

“Okay,” (Y/N) said, clapping their hands together. “We’re dividing and conquering. Zenitsu, you grab the hot cocoa mix. Muichiro, find the snacks. I’ll get the drinks. Aizawa… supervise.”

Aizawa gave a half-hearted nod, his scarf twitching slightly as if to say, Fine.

Zenitsu darted off, weaving through the crowd like his life depended on it. He reappeared minutes later, clutching not one, but four boxes of hot cocoa mix. “Just in case!” he said defensively when (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.

Meanwhile, Muichiro’s “snack collection” turned out to be both impressive and baffling. He returned with chips, cookies, and what appeared to be an entire section of Japanese candy. “I thought it would be fun to mix things up,” he said when Aizawa gave him a tired look.

The chaos truly began at the checkout line. Zenitsu, jittery as ever, managed to drop one of the boxes of cocoa mix, sending packets skidding across the floor. (Y/N) sighed, kneeling to gather them up, only to be cut off by a harried shopper trying to push their cart through.

“Excuse me!” the shopper snapped, glaring down at (Y/N).

Zenitsu’s eyes went wide, and he backed up, muttering, “Oh no, oh no, it’s happening. It’s happening!”

Muichiro stepped in, his calm demeanor masking the slight edge to his tone. “You could at least wait a moment. We’ll be out of your way soon enough.”

The shopper scoffed. “Kids these days have no respect.”

(Y/N) rose to their feet, cocoa packets in hand, and offered a tight-lipped smile. “We’re just trying to finish our shopping like everyone else. How about a little holiday spirit, huh?”

The shopper opened their mouth to retort, but Aizawa appeared behind (Y/N), his towering presence and perpetually tired expression enough to make anyone think twice. “Let’s keep moving,” he said, his voice low and firm.

The shopper huffed and pushed their cart away, leaving Zenitsu to collapse against a nearby shelf in relief. “I thought we were done for,” he whispered dramatically.

(Y/N) rolled their eyes. “It’s hot cocoa, Zenitsu, not the apocalypse.”

By the time they made it back to the car, the group was weighed down with bags of snacks, drinks, and more whipped cream than anyone could reasonably use. As Aizawa started the engine, (Y/N) glanced back at their brother.

“You know, Muichiro,” they said, holding up the massive canister of whipped cream, “this is a bit overkill.”

Muichiro shrugged. “It’s festive.”

Zenitsu, now munching on a candy bar he had snagged during checkout, nodded in agreement. “Honestly, it’s the most useful thing we got. What’s hot cocoa without whipped cream?”

Aizawa sighed deeply as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Remind me never to agree to this again.”

“Aw, c’mon, Aizawa-sensei,” (Y/N) said with a grin. “We crushed it. Snacks secured. Cocoa stocked. Mission accomplished.”

Zenitsu leaned forward, pointing at the road ahead. “Yeah, and we didn’t even have to fight anyone! Well, not really.”

Aizawa groaned. “I need coffee.”

The group chuckled as they drove back home, their bags full and their spirits — well mostly intact. The Food Squad had succeeded, chaos and all.

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 2

The classroom smelled like dust and old paper, the kind of scent that settled into the walls of every school, no matter how new or well-kept. The overhead lights flickered once before steadying, their dim glow casting long shadows across rows of students slumped in their seats, waiting for yet another lecture about the future—one that most of them weren’t ready to hear.

The teacher stood at the front, balancing a thick stack of papers in his hands, adjusting his glasses as he glanced over the class with the kind of tired patience that came from years of watching students do everything except listen. “Alright, everyone, it’s time to start thinking seriously about your futures.” His voice carried the weight of routine. He had said this same line to countless students before, and he’d say it again next year, and the year after that. “I’ll be handing out printouts for your desired career paths. It’s important to start planning now, especially for those of you applying to high-ranking schools.”

A groan rippled through the class, some students resting their chins in their hands, already tuning him out. The only real reaction came when the teacher added, almost offhandedly, “But I already know you all want to be heroes.”

That got their attention.

Excitement crackled through the room like static electricity, students perking up, quirks activating instinctively—tiny flashes of fire, sudden gusts of wind, the faint hum of energy vibrating beneath fingertips. Someone’s chair levitated an inch off the ground before clattering back down. A few sparks danced between fingers, fizzling out as the teacher let out an exasperated sigh.

“You know quirks aren’t allowed during school hours,” he scolded.

Most of them ignored him, their attention shifting toward one person in particular—the boy who had already made it clear he was on a different level.

Katsuki Bakugo smirked, arms folded as he leaned back in his seat, radiating the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away. “Don’t lump me in with the rest of these extras,” he said, voice dripping with superiority. “I’m not just trying to be a hero—I will be the top hero. Better than All Might himself.”

A few students groaned at his arrogance, but no one could deny the weight of his words. Katsuki had already aced the mock exams. Everyone knew he had the skills, the drive. He was going to U.A. High School, no question about it.

Then, someone spoke up.

“What about Midoriya?”

The entire classroom fell silent for a moment before erupting into laughter.

Izuku, who had been diligently scribbling in his notebook, tensed as every pair of eyes in the room turned to him. He clutched his pen tighter, shoulders drawn in as if he could physically make himself smaller.

“You?” One of the students scoffed. “You’re still trying to get into U.A.? Seriously?”

Katsuki snorted, rolling his eyes. “Tch. Don’t make me laugh, Deku. You think they’d let in a quirkless loser like you?”

Izuku didn’t say anything. He just lowered his head, biting the inside of his cheek as the laughter continued around him.

In another classroom, just a few doors down, a completely different scene was unfolding.

The teacher wiped at her eyes, sniffling dramatically as she looked over her students. “I just… I can’t believe this is my last year with you all. You’ve grown so much…”

Groans and quiet complaints filled the room, students shifting uncomfortably in their seats as they endured the teacher’s sentimental rambling. Only one student remained still, unbothered.

(Y/N) sat perfectly straight, eyes half-lidded as they listened—not just to their own classroom, but to everything. The hum of the fluorescent lights. The rhythmic tapping of a pen two rows back. The scrape of a chair against the floor in the hallway. The faint, distant voices from the other classrooms.

And beyond that? The breathing of students down the hall. The sound of shoes scuffing against linoleum. The way their voices wavered, the subtle shifts in their tone—things no normal person would ever pick up on. But (Y/N) wasn’t normal.

Their head tilted slightly, watching as the teacher dabbed at her eyes again, voice thick with emotion.

A beat of silence.

Then, (Y/N) muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear

“Llorona.”

“Crybaby”

The effect was immediate.

The entire class stiffened. A few students coughed awkwardly, shifting in their seats. One boy let out a snort before quickly covering his mouth, eyes darting between (Y/N) and the teacher. Even the teacher, despite her flustered attempt to compose herself, hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

It wasn’t just the word itself—it was how (Y/N) had said it.

Flat. Unfeeling. Like an observation rather than an insult.

As if they had simply named something that had already been true.

The teacher cleared her throat, clearly choosing to ignore it. “Now then,” she said, regaining some composure. “Let’s talk about high school applications. We have many promising students this year, and I’m sure you all have big plans for the future. (Y/N), what about you?”

All eyes turned toward them.

(Y/N) was, without question, the top student in the school. Their grades were impeccable, their test scores untouchable. But unlike Katsuki Bakugo, they weren’t loud about it. They didn’t boast or draw attention to themselves. They simply existed—a presence that should have been impossible to ignore, yet somehow always slipped through the cracks.

A few students exchanged glances, whispering amongst themselves.

“What even is their quirk?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them use it.”

“Are they quirkless, too?”

(Y/N) ignored them.

They waited just long enough for the tension to settle, then answered, “U.A. High School.”

The words were spoken with such perfect timing that, in another classroom down the hall, Katsuki Bakugo unknowingly echoed them at the exact same moment:

“Don’t lump me in with everyone else—I’m going to U.A.”

The whispers in (Y/N)’s class quieted, but the unease didn’t fade.

They had heard him.

Every syllable, every breath. Even from this distance, through the walls, through the overlapping noise of a hundred other students, they had heard it as clearly as if he had been sitting right beside them.

It was an ability no normal human should have.

But then again… (Y/N) wasn’t human.

Not really.

The room buzzed with murmurs as the students debated the difficulty of the U.A. entrance exam. A few of them whispered about the acceptance rate, the insane expectations, the kind of raw power and talent needed to even stand a chance against other applicants.

Katsuki Bakugo had heard it all before, and it didn’t matter.

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an easy arrogance, stretching his arms behind his head. “Like any of that matters. I already aced the mock exam. I’ll pass the real thing just as easily.”

His grin widened as he added, “I’ll be the best—better than All Might himself.”

The room filled with chatter again, a mix of impressed nods and skeptical side-eyes. But no one dared challenge him outright. No one except—

“Well, Midoriya wants to go to U.A. too.”

Silence.

For a moment, the only sound in the classroom was the hum of the fluorescent lights. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, the entire class turned to look at Izuku.

And then—laughter.

It started with a few chuckles, then erupted into full-blown cackling. Someone slapped their desk. Another wiped at imaginary tears. The mockery was deafening, drowning out everything else in the room.

Izuku stiffened, clutching his notebook tightly against his chest. His ears burned, his nails digging into the worn cover of his notes.

“You?” One student sneered. “You really think you’ll get into U.A.?”

“There’s no way,” another chimed in. “All you ever do is study. What’s that gonna do for you in the hero course?”

Izuku opened his mouth, scrambling for a defense, but before he could get a word out—

BOOM.

An explosion crackled in the air, heat licking at Izuku’s skin as smoke curled between them. He flinched back instinctively.

Katsuki was already in front of him, his hand still sparking from the blast, his expression unreadable except for the sheer contempt in his red eyes.

“Don’t put yourself on the same level as me, Deku,” he spat, voice low, dangerous.

Izuku sucked in a sharp breath, stepping back, but Katsuki followed.

“I-I’m not—” Izuku stammered. “I know I can’t compete with you, Kacchan. But this isn’t about that. I just—I’ve had this dream since I was a kid. And if I don’t at least try—I’ll never know if I could have—”

“Tch.”

Katsuki’s lip curled. “You don’t get it, do you?” He turned slightly, addressing the rest of the class without taking his eyes off Izuku. “The entrance exam’s impossible for someone like him.”

The class murmured in agreement, some shaking their heads, others smirking.

Izuku swallowed hard, looking down at his shoes.

The laughter wasn’t as loud this time, but it was still there.

Elsewhere…

A scream split the air.

The streets, once bustling with casual evening activity, had fallen into chaos.

A villain tore through the city—a writhing, amorphous mass of dark green sludge, slipping between alleyways and leaving a foul-smelling trail in its wake. Its liquid body sloshed unnaturally, eyes blinking open and shut across its surface. People scrambled out of its way, some running, others watching from what they hoped was a safe distance.

“There’s no end to villains like this…” someone muttered from the crowd.

A shadow shifted above them.

“No,” a voice answered, deep and powerful. “There is an end to them.”

Because he was there.

Back at the Middle School…

The school day had ended, students pouring out of the building in clusters, their chatter fading into the distance.

Inside an empty classroom, the air was thick with the fading scent of burnt ozone and old chalk. The last golden rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the desks.

Only four people remained.

Izuku Midoriya stood near his desk, fumbling with his things, head down as he tried to ignore the presence looming behind him.

Katsuki Bakugo leaned lazily against a desk, arms crossed, crimson eyes locked onto Izuku with an expression that was both smug and irritated. His two lackeys, sitting casually on desks nearby, watched the exchange with quiet amusement.

It was always like this.

“You seriously think you can get into U.A.?” Katsuki scoffed, pushing off the desk and sauntering over. “You?”

Izuku stiffened.

Katsuki snatched the notebook from his hands before he could react, flipping through the pages with a sneer.

“You’re still scribbling in this dumb book?” Katsuki shook his head, his grip tightening. “You’re wasting your damn time, Deku.”

Izuku opened his mouth to protest, but—

BOOM.

A small explosion erupted from Katsuki’s palm, searing the edges of the notebook. Ash curled into the air as the pages darkened and crumbled, bits of burnt paper fluttering to the floor like dying embers.

Izuku’s stomach twisted. His hands clenched at his sides as he bit back the urge to reach for the ruined book.

Katsuki chuckled, letting the notebook slip from his fingers, the smoldering remains hitting the floor between them.

“You’ll never be a hero, Deku,” he said, voice light but laced with something sharper underneath.

Izuku swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Katsuki’s gaze.

“I—”

But Katsuki cut him off with a laugh, shaking his head as if the whole thing was some grand joke. He took a step closer, lowering his voice just slightly.

“If you really wanna do something useful,” he murmured, his tone almost casual, “why don’t you take a swan dive off the rooftop?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Izuku froze.

The classroom felt smaller, the walls pressing in, the silence deafening.

For a moment, his breath hitched.

Then, slowly, he forced himself to move. He bent down, ignoring the scorch marks as he picked up what remained of his notebook.

Katsuki watched him with a smirk, waiting for some kind of reaction—anger, tears, anything.

But Izuku didn’t say a word.

He turned, clutching the ruined book to his chest, and walked out of the classroom without looking back.

(Y/N) who had been passing by when the words reached their ears.

They had heard everything.

Not just the conversation, but the subtle shifts in breathing, the steady thrum of Katsuki’s heartbeat, the way Izuku’s hands trembled for just a second before he steadied them.

They heard it all.

But they didn’t stop.

Didn’t intervene.

They simply walked past the open classroom door, glancing inside just long enough to commit the scene to memory. Their eyes landed on Katsuki, scanning his face, his posture.

Then, just as quietly as they came, they kept walking.

At the end of the hall, their lips curled into something unreadable.

And when they spoke, their voice was soft—almost playful.

“It seems someone’s in need of Spanish lessons.”

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 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.