Chapter One

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.

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 14

masterlist

The machine calculating (Y/N)’s throw began to whir and beep, its internal mechanisms straining as if it couldn’t process what had just happened. Then, with a loud sputter, it froze, the screen flashing a single word in bold, blinking letters: ERROR.

The class erupted.

“Holy crap, he broke the machine!” Kaminari shouted, eyes wide with awe. “That’s insane! What kind of Quirk does he even have?”

“That was so manly!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands on his hips as he beamed at (Y/N). “You gotta tell me your secret, dude! That’s next-level strength right there!”

“Manly?!” Bakugo snapped, his voice cutting through the excitement like a blade. He stomped toward (Y/N), fury blazing in his eyes. “That wasn’t manly! That was freakish! What the hell was that, huh?! You think you’re hot shit just ‘cause you broke a stupid machine?”

(Y/N), as calm as ever, ignored him completely. The faint traces of mist that lingered around his shoulders continued to dissipate as he walked back to his place beside Izuku, the stick still loosely balanced in his hand. As Bakugo’s tirade grew louder, (Y/N) cast him a sidelong glance and muttered, “Focus on yourself, brat.”

The low, steady tone carried enough weight to cut through Bakugo’s yelling, silencing him momentarily. His face twisted in anger, but he didn’t move, his hands trembling with frustration as (Y/N) continued walking without looking back.

“Dude…” Kaminari muttered again, still staring at the broken machine. “Is he even human?”

Momo stood silently, her gaze fixed on (Y/N). Unlike the others, her awe was tempered with thought, her mind racing as she replayed the moment of his throw. “That technique,” she whispered to herself, her brows furrowing in confusion. “That wasn’t a quirk… Was it?”

Her words went unheard amid the excited chatter of their classmates, but her thoughts continued to spiral. There was something eerily familiar about his movements—the precision, the fluidity, the power. She wasn’t certain, but her instincts told her that this wasn’t a result of some flashy, powerful quirk. This was something else entirely.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she pondered the possibilities. Could he be… a descendant of the Mist Hashira? The thought felt absurd, yet it lingered, refusing to leave her mind. If that were the case, it explained the refined, almost ancient technique, but it also raised even more questions.

As the class buzzed with speculation, Momo stayed rooted in place, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze followed (Y/N), her admiration and confusion growing in equal measure. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was far more to him than what he let on.

Her eyes lingered on his retreating figure as a thought surfaced in her mind, clear and resolute :

Tokitō (Y/N)… you’re a mystery I can’t wait to solve.

• 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 •

The teachers’ lounge was abuzz with discussion, the usual hum of casual banter replaced by something far more focused. Gathered around a large screen displaying the recorded footage from Aizawa’s training session, UA’s teaching staff sat in rapt attention, each of them visibly intrigued by what they had just witnessed.

On the screen, Tokitō (Y/N) stood poised, mist curling around his frame, the ball flying into the horizon with an otherworldly precision and power. The footage paused on that moment, the faint remnants of mist still visible, clinging to him like a cloak.

Principal Nezu, perched comfortably on a chair far too large for his small frame, clasped his paws together. His sharp, intelligent eyes swept over the room. “Thoughts?” he asked, his calm yet curious voice breaking the silence. “I think we can all agree that this was… unconventional.”

“It’s not a Quirk,” Midnight said confidently, leaning back in her chair with arms crossed. “At least not in any way I’ve seen before. The way he moved—it was like something out of a martial arts film.”

“Yeah, but did you see that ball fly?” Present Mic added, leaning forward with an exaggerated motion. “That wasn’t just skill; that was raw power. So what gives? Is he Quirkless, or are we missing something here?” He turned to Aizawa with a grin. “Well, what’s your take on the kid, Shota?”

Aizawa shot his best friend a tired look, his tone flat but edged with irritation. “Hizashi, use my last name at work.”

Present Mic raised his hands defensively, grinning sheepishly. “Right, right. My bad.”

Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “From what I observed today, the kid doesn’t use a Quirk. His physical ability is well beyond that of a normal person, but I didn’t detect any trace of quirk, I admit I did use my quirk on him to test my own theory. He completed all the tests without showing any signs of external augmentation—no visible abilities, no mutations. I’m just as surprised as you all but the kids actually quirkless.”

”The way he moved though, it wasn’t that of a few months of training— the way he reacted to the tests, how he handled and overcame them with better scores than even All Might in his younger days here at UA, it was refined to a degree I’ve never seen in someone his age.”

Ectoplasm tilted his head thoughtfully. “If he doesn’t have a Quirk, how is he capable of something like that?”

“That’s the mystery,” Aizawa said, leaning back in his chair. “He’s deliberate, precise. He doesn’t waste movements or energy, and he doesn’t react to provocation like most students would. I wouldn’t say he’s unapproachable, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from everyone, even when they’re trying to connect with him. There’s a discipline about him I don’t see often.”

“Discipline like that comes from somewhere,” Snipe chimed in, his voice steady. “I’d bet money he’s had some kind of training long before he stepped foot in UA.”

“Not just any training,” Power Loader added, adjusting his helmet. “Whatever he’s learned, it’s leagues ahead of what most pros know. That technique with the mist—it wasn’t just a fluke. That was mastery.”

“Do you think it’s possible he’s holding back?” Cementoss asked, his deep voice rumbling through the room. “If he’s capable of that much, who’s to say we’ve seen his full potential?”

“I don’t think he’s holding back in the way you’re imagining,” Aizawa replied, crossing his arms. “He’s careful, methodical. If anything, I’d say he’s hiding something, but not out of malice. More like… necessity. He knows exactly what he’s capable of, and he chooses to act only when necessary.”

Nezu steepled his paws, his expression unreadable as he contemplated the reports and the footage. “It’s rare for someone Quirkless to achieve such a level of mastery, especially at such a young age. But it’s not impossible. Humanity’s potential often surprises me.”

“So, what do we do?” Sekijiro Kan asked, his arms crossed over his massive chest. “The kid’s clearly not ordinary, Quirk or no Quirk.”

“We keep an eye on him,” Nezu said decisively, his tone calm but firm. “There’s more to Tokitō (Y/N) than meets the eye. If he truly is Quirkless, then he’s a remarkable anomaly. If he’s not… well, we need to know. Either way, his presence here at UA warrants close observation.”

Midnight smirked, leaning forward. “And if he’s hiding something?”

“Then we’ll find out in due time,” Nezu replied with a faint smile. “But for now, let’s allow him the chance to show us who he is on his own terms. Patience, everyone. Patience.”

As the teachers nodded in agreement, Present Mic leaned closer to Aizawa, lowering his voice. “Man, Shota, you’ve got a real puzzle on your hands this year.”

Aizawa gave a faint, almost imperceptible shrug. “I’ve dealt with worse. Let’s just hope he doesn’t blow up half the school before the semester ends. Lord knows I don’t need any more problem children under my eye.”

The room chuckled lightly, but the intrigue surrounding (Y/N) remained palpable. As the discussion wrapped up, Nezu’s sharp gaze lingered on the frozen image of (Y/N) on the screen, his expression thoughtful.

“Tokitō (Y/N),” he murmured softly to himself. “A mystery worth unraveling.”

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

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

✶ about :

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

✶ what I do :

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

✶ current vibes :

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

✶ stay awhile :

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

A Totally Normal Student

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

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

⬐ fandom : MHA x Duolingo Reader ᓀ ᵥ ᓂ

masterlist

chapter 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 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.”

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 12

masterlist

Aizawa glanced down at his clipboard, his tired eyes scanning the names. “Alright, Tokitō, you’re up next.”

(Y/N) shifted from where he had been standing beside Izuku, his expression as unreadable as ever. Without a word, he walked toward the throwing circle, his movements fluid and effortless, almost as if he were gliding. The murmurs of his classmates began to rise again, though none of them dared to speak loud enough for him to hear.

“He’s gonna do something weird again,” Katsuki muttered, glaring daggers at (Y/N)’s back.

“Quiet, brat,” (Y/N) said without even looking his way, his voice calm yet dismissive, as though Katsuki’s very presence was unworthy of his attention.

Katsuki’s hands sparked, his teeth grinding together in frustration, but Aizawa’s sharp glance kept him in check.

Reaching the circle, (Y/N) crouched slightly, picking up the ball. He turned it over in his hand, his gaze distant as if calculating something far beyond the comprehension of those watching. The class fell into a tense silence, the air seeming to shift as he straightened.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the ball resting lightly in his fingers. Then, barely audible over the stillness, (Y/N) whispered:

“Mist Breathing… Fourth Form…”

And just like that, the world seemed to hold its breath.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 •

The air was thick with the scent of stone and earth as a younger (Y/N) stood before the towering figure of Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira. Despite his imposing size and the intimidating presence he radiated, Gyomei’s calm demeanor put (Y/N) at ease, even as he stood in a ready stance, waiting for the first move.

Gyomei’s blind eyes were fixed on him, though (Y/N) knew that he could see through his senses, every inch of the training ground. The ground trembled slightly as Gyomei shifted his weight, his massive stone axe resting against the dirt. The weight of the weapon was nothing to him, but the sheer size of it was enough to make (Y/N) hesitate.

“You ready, kid?” Gyomei’s voice was low, warm, but there was an edge of challenge in it.

(Y/N) nodded, though the pit in his stomach said otherwise. Despite his training, there was a nagging fear that he wasn’t prepared for this. Gyomei wasn’t just strong — he was a monster, an immovable force. And here (Y/N) was, just a young swordsman trying to prove he was worthy of being one of the Hashira.

Gyomei didn’t wait for him to speak. Without a word, he swung the axe down toward (Y/N) in a fluid, controlled motion. The sound of the weapon cutting through the air was deafening.

(Y/N) barely managed to dodge, leaping to the side as the axe slammed into the earth with a force that made the ground shake. His heart was racing, his breath quickening as he regained his balance. It was just the first move, but already, his body was begging him to slow down, to take a breath.

“Come on, boy, don’t let your mind wander,” Gyomei rumbled, stepping forward. “Focus. You’re stronger than you think.”

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed— sure he had trained with the other Hashira’s before, but none were like this. 

None definitely like Gyomei, who could make a single strike feel like an entire battlefield— that man muscles even has muscles. 

2 words : Fucking scary!

He focused, his hand tightening around his sword’s hilt. Gyomei was moving again, the axe coming toward him, faster than before. This time, (Y/N) didn’t dodge… he probably should’ve though. 

He moved in closer, avoiding the deadly arc of the weapon and closing the distance. He aimed for a strike at Gyomei’s side, but the Stone Hashira’s reaction was instantaneous. His huge arm shot out, grabbing (Y/N)’s wrist before the sword could land.

“You’re too eager,” Gyomei said softly, his grip firm but not painful. “You have strength, but you’re wasting it by rushing.”

(Y/N) bit back a growl of frustration. He didn’t want to hear that. In short— in young Tokitō‘s mind he done heard “SIKE, get recked bitch.”

He wanted to prove he was capable, wanted to show he could fight like the Hashira. But Gyomei wasn’t just teaching him how to fight at the moment, no—

He was teaching him how to think mid battle…

How to be strategic mid battle… because in some cases— the enemy won’t even give you the time of day to come up with your next move.

Gyomei released him and took a step back, giving (Y/N) a moment to breathe. “Strength comes from patience. From endurance. You won’t outlast me by charging in without a plan.”

The young swordsman tried to steady his breathing, wiping the sweat that was growing from his brow. His body was sore, aching from just the first few minutes of sparring. But Gyomei wasn’t done. No, he wasn’t going to let him stop.

The next attack came without warning. Gyomei swung the axe with a terrifying speed, but this time, (Y/N) was ready. He danced to the side, using the movement Gyomei had taught him in earlier training — shifting his weight just enough to evade the strike, but not too much to lose his footing.

Gyomei watched him carefully, like a hawk observing its prey. “Better,” he rumbled, stepping forward again. “But still not enough. You need more than speed.”

(Y/N) exhaled sharply, stepping back, sweat dripping down his face. His muscles screamed for rest, but he knew this was just the beginning. There was no stopping here. Not when Gyomei was still pushing him, still making him face the overwhelming force of the Stone Hashira’s strength.

Gyomei’s voice softened a little, though there was still a challenge in it. “You have potential, Tokitō. But don’t mistake potential for strength. Strength comes when you can push past your limits, when you can keep going even when you think you can’t anymore.”

For a moment, (Y/N) stood there, processing his words. He had always thought strength was just about power, about being fast and strong. 

But Gyomei was telling him something different no— showing him something different.

Without a word, Gyomei moved again, this time slower, more deliberate. (Y/N) mirrored his movements, his body flowing with the rhythm of the battle, a dance of dodges and strikes. With every move, he could feel the exhaustion creeping in. His muscles burned, but Gyomei didn’t stop, didn’t give him a moment of rest.

Then, Gyomei swung again, and this time, (Y/N) didn’t just dodge. He parried the blow, pushing against the sheer weight of the axe. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to deflect it. For the first time, (Y/N) felt like he was taking control of the match.

Gyomei stepped back, his lips curling into a rare smile. “Not bad, kid,” he said, his voice softer now. “Not bad at all. You’ve got the basics down, but there’s still a long way to go.”

(Y/N) stood tall, chest heaving, sweat soaking through his clothes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. This was what he wanted.

To grow stronger.

To learn from the best.

Gyomei’s voice echoed in his mind as he caught his breath. “Remember this, Tokitō: Strength isn’t about winning the fight. It’s about never stopping, no matter how tough it gets. Because the fight never ends.”

To protect those like him and his twin should’ve been protected.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙚𝙣𝙙 •

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

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

chapter 6

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

⬐ 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

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

breathing forms (not a chapter more so information)

chapter 16

chapter 17

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.