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Quirk Interrupted: The Adventurous Anthology of Izuku Midoriya

Chapter Text

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It was a nip of a mosquito that awoken Himiko from her slumber. Her eyes turned to the source of the irritation. A tiny, minuscule mosquito. If she could guess its age, maybe infancy. She wouldn't know about the biology of certain creatures. It never had to apply to anything of her everyday life. She observed it, watching it absorb her blood to seek its nutrients. Her skin became red, still watching it getting its fill. As if she was the mother suckling her young for milk. For a moment, if not a spell, she would it find it charming. Maybe in the least, cute. She awed and gave it a hand, right across the source of her irritation. The mosquito was dead, no longer can provide its' purpose. Its' time was done. Under her breath, the blonde whispered to it, "Au revoir, farewell. I bid you adieu and good morrow." She flicked it from her sight but didn't do anything to relieve the itch for it was becoming pleasant. Something about that slight irritation urged her, better yet provoke a hint of excitement.

Nothing like a slight tension of pain. It was good for the synapses. A grateful or fateful reminder that she was alive and well. The latter of which depended on the perspective of the word. Well, as in she could use a drink. Well, as in she is healthy according to her doctor. If one were to delve into that territory, it carried on the next meaning of well. Well, as in if her therapist were giving her the right dosage of her medication. Speaking of which, the blonde thought, she couldn't remember the last time she visited a doctor, a pharmacist, or her therapist. Alas, the word well came in full circle with her. However people viewed her inside and her outside, it matter not. She knew what she was. She knew what she was capable of.

Himiko Toga was going to do whatever Himiko Toga was going to do. This was her world. She wondered why they said the world is their oyster? An oyster was nothing more than food; scoop it out, steal the pearl, and crush the shell. The world was like a shark. Kill or be killed. Kill to survive. That was more logical in her mind. Yet again, just like the mosquito she killed, she didn't mind a hint of pain every now and again.

Or better yet, she didn't mind giving pain either.

How long was she out, she thought. On the surface of the people, she was going for walk with her pet. Blame it on the lack of food or not taking her prescribed medication, she had a dizzy spell and took a seat. She didn't know it would turn into a siesta.

The park grew ever darker. Soon the shadows of the trees would blend into the blackness and their silhouettes against the sky would grow less pronounced. As the view disappeared the sounds emerged as if the volume was being steadily turned upward. The breaking of simple leaves or twigs became the focus of Himiko's attention. She detected the loam fragrance in the autumnal breeze and glanced upward to catch a glimpse of the moon before a dark cloud erased its precious silver rays.

Brokenness.

She stretched her arms as she gave herself a yawn. On her other hand, she noticed a leather belt around her hand. She snapped her fingers. "Of course, you silly goose," she told herself teasingly. "I was supposed to be walking my pet." She pulled the leather belt that was her a leash. "Come, my pet." There was a hint of silence. Himiko wasn't upset for she was asleep so therefore her pet was going to take a rest. She loved and admired her pet. He was a bit fussy at the beginning when she found him.

Abandoned, misbegotten, left alone in the alley. Caught in a trap that was designed to harm anybody who laid their paws on it. He was bruised, injurious from head to toe. Himiko knew he was a fighter. In fact, she saw him when he battled some tomcats. He fought, he screamed, he cried, and he bleed.

Left alone. Quirkless and drained, the blonde made it her full responsibility to nurse her pet back to health.

She hasn't looked back ever since.

And neither has Deku. Even if he wanted to or not.

"Wake up, my pet Deku." Himiko yanked the leash a little rougher. Himiko was touched as her pet, Deku, came into plain sight. She was touched, seeing her Deku kneeling in a position of being a good pet. Deku was a biter, so she had a bridle to lessen his biting habits. A studded, princess-cut diamond collar adorned his neck. She spared no expense for her Deku.

"Himiko's Pet" was marked on his collar. Her pet, her love, her everything. Actually, she wanted it labeled as "My Little Bitch." However, it was too many characters to fit on the badge. Nevertheless, whatever name he was to Himiko, he would answer. That was his purpose; what he lived for and what he was served to do.

"Come Deku," she managed to pull him onto the seat. "Let's no be too fussy." She clicked her tongue. "I know that Mommy has been sleeping for quite a spell. Sorry that I left you all alone."

He muffled through his bridle. His eyes watered. Under the light, Deku looked like a precious gem. She was touched, acting like he was having a horrible time with her. Oh, he is so modest. Pretending that he needs rescuing. Like he needs help. Oh, honey. Nothing brings me great joy than to see you being nothing more than at the bottom of my shoe. She snapped her fingers. "You're hungry, aren't you? That is why you are so fussy." She squeezed his face tenderly, drawing her fingers into the skin. "If you don't bite this time, I will give you a treat when we get home." She wrapped the leash tighter. The veins in her eyes spread as she glared at Deku. "If you do bite, I will punish you." She pursed her lips while smiling. "I will have to hit you and then you will have to fall." She pecked him on the cheek, tasting his tears. The tears of joy have such a salty, but pleasant taste. "Don't make me show my ugly side. Because you know I will laugh." She crackled her hot breath to his face. "Let me remove the bridle."

Himiko removed the bridle, placing it beside her on the bench. As she instructed, Deku kept his mouth closed. He didn't look at his captor or his master. He wasn't sure what to call her tonight. The emerald-haired child watched as Himiko removed her shoes. A hint of heat was felt from his position on the ground. She slowly pulled her socks off her feet. Her eyes showed relief as the air cooled her off.

"Here we go, my pet. Enjoy your snack." Himiko's sweaty, moist feet was what she referred as a snack. The strong stretch opened his nose. Izuku moved forward, allowing his tongue to make contact with her toes. He allowed the salt to collect on his tongue as he cleaned it out. "Good boy, my pet," said Himiko with a tone of praise. "Enjoy your snack, my pet. Continue to follow my order, then we can transition you to solid food. Until then, baby steps." She inserted her big toe into his mouth, urging him to lick thoroughly. He obeyed. The last thing he wanted was another hit. She only makes one warning. Disobey and she won't say anything else.

Himiko had enough and withdrew her foot from Deku's mouth. "Jesus, you greedy pet. I said a snack, not the entire kitchen." She wiped the sweat from her forehead and dried it off her cardigan. "Shall we go home?"

"Yes, Himiko-sama."

"Good boy." Himiko patted him on the head. "Just for that, you don't have to walk with the bridle." She clapped her hands. "You will get your treat when you get home."

Deku's rewards weren't as exciting as she made it out to be. Who knew what he was expecting when he came home? Licking residue from her shoes, wiping the stains from her underwear with his tongue. As he began walking on his knees, he smelled a hint of her womanhood. It was confirmed as he saw it trembled down her leg. He looked at her. She had the biggest smile on her face. "That's right, my pet. You are having honey milk tea."

To be continued….

Chapter Text

It was an ordinary Saturday afternoon at the Midoriya residence. Inko went out shopping and Izuku was spending time watching syndicated television shows from the United States. He was mid-sip into his soda when he had heard a knock at the door. He didn't give it a thought as he placed the drink down. Knowing for being a Saturday, it could have been a fee collector, a salesman, or a Jehovah's witness. Be as it may, he quickly produced an excuse of any disinterest. He was beginning to speak the words until he saw a different visitor at the door.

She was a young adult woman with gray eyes and almost shoulder length white hair with some traces of red. Her nervous expression was seen through her glasses. It was an awkward, pregnant pause. The green-haired child and the white-haired woman stared at each other for a moment. It was Izuku that broke the silence.

"Hi, Fuyumi." His tone came as a surprise. He thought it was strange to see her at his residence. Although he and her brother are classmates, he never gave her a particular reason to come and see him. "How can I help you this afternoon?"

It was an awkward pause before she blinked. It was as if she was registering what Deku was saying to her. "Oh, greetings, Izuku. How are you today?"

Izuku leaned against the door. "I am fine. Thanks." He looked at the hallway, wishing he would have DVR his shows. "How can I help you with this afternoon?"

She produced a smile. "Umm, Shouto wanted to give this to you." She used both hands to give him sheets of paper. "He says it was a manuscript of a manga he was trying to draw." She swallowed a lump in her throat. Izuku could tell she was nervous by the way her fingers were trembling. "He says that you are working on manga. He also says that you are interested in drawing as well."

What Fuyumi was telling Izuku was true. Lately, he and Shouto were gaining interest in the manga industry. Since they were interested in producing action manga like from their favorite magazine, Shounen Jump, they got together to draw. Better yet, Shouto did more of the drawing and Izuku did more of the writing. They work well and they made a great team. It was just surprising to see Fuyumi here and also Shouto would have called Izuku if he were to send something.

"Thanks." Izuku grabbed the papers from Fuyumi. He bowed before her. However, he saw that Fuyumi looked sweaty as if she had run here. "Listen, would you like to come in for a drink."

She looked nervous, blinking her eyes twice. "You don't mind that, Izuku?"

Izuku shook his head in disagreement. One of the things he had learned from his mother. When he saw a lady in distress, make sure he took care of her. "I don't mind, plus you look exhausted and dehydrated."

She rubbed the back of her head while smiling. "Well, it is the Summertime."

After a brief chuckle between one another, Izuku allowed Fuyumi inside of his residence. He closed the door behind her. "Feel free to borrow my mother's slippers. She won't be back until after a while."

"Thanks," she said as she retrieved the slippers. "So, your mother won't be back after a while, you say."

Izuku was walking toward the hallway. He still held the papers in his hand. "Yeah, Mom is using shopping. Wouldn't be surprised if she is catching a sale at Akihabara or in Aoyama right now."

Izuku told Fuyumi to have a seat in the living room while he searched in the refrigerator for something to drink. "Do you want tea? I have a wide assortment of it."

"Sure," she said.

He grabbed the tea pitcher and closed the refrigerator door. He went to the counter and pulled out two glasses. As he was pouring it, he scanned the piece of paper that he received from Shouto. He scanned the paper and on the front cover, it was a note.

I love you I love you please remember that
I love you I love you please I am so glad we met
I love you I love you please forgive me for being a little yandere, crazy
I love you I love you when I think of you my vision gets hazy
My heart pounds fast I want this to last, I want you to be mine alone, just mine
Until both of us reach the end of our lifetime
I love you I love you please understand
I love you I love you please don't replace me
I love you I love you-you're the one I want to be (with)
I love you I love you-you're like a lily Elegant, wonderful and majestic, beautiful and so sweet
You won my heart in the matter of a heartbeat
Come my love with me take a seat
Lets cuddle, lets kiss, let's remember this
That we should be happy together, that we should find bliss
So I will cheer you up as much as I can, you're the one I miss (when you're gone)
I love you I love you that is all I can say
I love you I love you-you are my ray, of light
I love you I love you so let's shine bright tonight
Until we have found buried one another in each other's hearts
Until the blush of dawn arrives and another day starts

"I love you. I love you." Izuku heard the faint sound coming from behind him. Her hot breath lingered around his neck. Before he could answer, a wet cloth was placed around his nose. She snugged it tightly. "Shh! Don't panic! Don't fight it! Breathe! Just breathe!" Izuku didn't get much of a chance as he dropped to the floor. Fuyumi giggled, gently holding on to him as she put him on the ground. "Oh, Deku! Oh, what fun I am going to have with you."

His brain was going through a whirlpool. His mind was drifting from one thought to the next. He was nauseated. Never in his life has he been placed in that position. Granted in the past, he had faced bullying. But never to the extent on how he was feeling.

Water, water. He thought to himself. He was parched for water. He wanted something to alleviate his throbbing headache; the sickness. He needed something cool and soothing. He was feeling hot. Unsure it was the chloroform or the environment. Something in his brain was alerting him to open his eyes.

Listening to his brain, he quickly opened his eyes. As his senses started returning, he saw his surroundings. It was a very well-lit room. Made from quarry rock, the walls were thick like a medieval castle. It had a warren of small rooms with only one way in or out. Close to the low ceiling, just under the rotting beams that suspend the floor above were windows. They were long and skinny, mostly covered in soil that lightened the darkness.

"Oh my God," he groaned. "Where am I? Where am I?"

He then sensed something coming from behind his neck. It was hot and moist. Like a vent exposing steam, but vent was producing a feminine, laughing sound. The voice was humming a haunting tune. It was macabre and frightening. It sent chills down his spine. His mind became alert.

I was watching television when I got a knock at the door. I answered the door and saw it was Fuyumi. Then, she gave me papers and I was making her a drink. And then...Oh, God...Oh, God...she did this. She did this. SHE DID THIS!

"Oh, darling! You are finally awake!" The gray-haired, silver-tongued girl made her appearance from behind him and then in front of him. She was wearing a purple tank top that exposed her stomach. She wore a pair of short jeans that went well above her knees. She had a sweet fragrance of honeydew. She had an inviting smile. She was in a happy mood. Under any normal circumstances, this would be wonderful. However, fear erupted from his mind as he knew that trouble was there in front of him.

"Oh, my sweet darling, you are finally awake," said Fuyumi.

"Where am I," questioned Izuku. "Where am I?"

"Shh! Relax, darling," said Fuyumi as she kneeled down in front of Izuku. "I just want to borrow my Deku for a few hours." She winked. "That's all. Just borrowing you."

As he focused, he realized that he wasn't wearing any clothing, saved for his boxer shorts. She released a giggling, childish sound. "Sorry, Deku. I promise I wasn't peeking." She grabbed her face, going into a strong grin, displaying her heart-shaped pupils. "I lie. Sorry, Deku, I couldn't resist."

"What do you want from me?"

"Like I said, sweetheart. I am going to borrow you for awhile. And oh, wouldn't mind playing a game."

"What kind of game?"

"Let's just say after a few tries, we will see the results will end up positive or negative."

To be continued….

Chapter Text

Hey, guys. [girlfriendoftheauthor] and Big Diesel here with another chapter. We decided to make this a dark comedy. Izuku is a vampire hunter under the duress of Countess Mount Lady. We call it a sophomore effort, but hope you guys enjoy!

Vampire Hunter Deku gnashed his teeth as he was snared into a trap created by the vampire queen. He should have known better when walking blindly into her lair. A fatal flaw but nevertheless typical of the novice vampire hunter. He stared into the empty lair, knowing that at any moment, the vampire queen herself was going to make her appearance.

It should have been a simple task. Low-risk, a few of her low-end goons, and that should have been the gist according to the guild. In fact, the leader of the guild guaranteed that it was going to be low-risk. He couldn't forget what the white-haired leader told Deku. "The particular clan you are doing isn't on the top of the food chain. Actually, the queen of that clan is actually covering for that clan. So, consider it an umbrella." He believed, thus fighting alone instead of enlisting the help of others.

If he would have known that the queen herself was going to make her presence, he would have thought of alternative methods. It was her symbol. A red and blue crescent moon that identified her trademark. He should have known better, but pride and being retrospective wasn't going to help. Deku needed to remove himself from these restraints before the queen returned. Seeing the heavily lit candles, the scent of lavender and the sounds of the roaring bats alerted him that she wasn't far.

As he looked up, a figure approached. She was a voluptuous young woman who had purple eyes and long, voluminous blonde hair curled into two strands. Her full lips were ruby red, and her luscious breasts were pressing hard against the black corset she was wearing. Her shapely legs were covered with a pair of black silk stockings being held up by garters connected to her black, crotchless panties fitting snug over her shapely, firm ass. She took her time as she made her way to the vampire hunter. She had no reason to rush. Judging by her facial expressions, this kind of thing wasn't brand new to the queen.

"Well, well, well." She pursed her lips, tickled as she saw Izuku bounded by her restraints. His legs were snared by tough branches of ivy. His arms were bounded as well by metal anklets. The only free reign he had was his head, but it, too, was becoming exhausted for the constant moving of his body. "Look what we have here. Do I catch a fly getting caught in my web?" She clicked her tongue. "No, no, no. Do I sense a rat snared into my trap?" By this time, the beauty approached Deku, tilting his head so she can see him. "Or, do I see such a young boy getting caught where he doesn't belong." She giggled. "I make you choose what kind of metaphor you would like to be."

"Taunting me isn't going to make my flinch or react." Izuku was too prideful. His angry look only allured the vampire beauty. Even before taking this assignment, he was acutely aware of the vampire queen of the region. In her former life, her name was Yu Takeyama. The damsel was a very prideful superhero. Nicknamed the Mount Lady, she was a young woman who seemed to enjoy the attention that being a hero gave her and she did not feel any shame from having to take that fame from another hero while basking in the glory. In the past, she was also shown to be vain as she uses her ample sex appeal to further her popularity or to gain something.

However, an incident occurred, causing Mount Lady to disappear for quite some time. When she returned back, no longer was she a superhero. Countess Yu was born. The guild explained to Deku that she was powerful, but enough of a force that he could handle.

Then yet again, the guild was also a loose alliance of former superheroes and those who lost their quirks. Izuku served on the latter end as his powers returned being quirkless after an incident that almost cost his mother's life.

She was attacked by a vampire. They came in the middle of the night as they slumbered. It was a scream that woke Izuku. By the time he had made to his mother's room, the vampire was gone. She was unconscious, covered in blood. The vampire was biting to kill. He wasn't sure who was responsible, but he knew from that day he would dedicate his life to avenge the person who attacked his mother.

She placed her hands on her hips. She observed Izuku for a moment. Wearing skin-tight green and white latex hunting suit, even though it strained around his lower body so much. "Hmm? Trick or treating today, little boy?" She giggled while Izuku was turning red. "I love it when the guild brings me cute ones. It makes these moments sexy, easier, and very tasty."

"Look," he barked. "If you are going to play mind games with me, then look elsewhere." He looked down, embarrassed for the position he was in. His equipment rendered him useless. The only thing he can do was to contain his willpower. "I just refuse to give you the satisfaction that you think you got me."

She lightly slapped his cheek. "You're funny! I like you. You are silly." Izuku tired to avoid Countess Yu's eyes, as many a vampire has ensnared their prey with a simple stare. But he couldn't help it. Her face was so beautiful; all he could do was stare at her and into her blood red eyes.

"You are making this easier than I thought, boy," she told Izuku. "Since you are tied, I am thinking about what I am going to do with you."

"Whatever you want, do your worst," barked Izuku. The Vampire Queen smiled, pursing her lips while staring at the child. "Please believe, I am planning to make you feel your lowest." She looked at his body. A bit childish, but she knew he was an active athlete. "But first, I think I want to mess with you for quite a spell." She was tickled, making the already embarrassed vampire hunter flustered. "Has your paintbrush been broken in?"

He spat in disgust. "What in the hell does that have to do with my position? Are you going to kill me or what?"

She stepped in front of him, her breath hovering him, exposing her fangs. "Kill? Heavens, no. Why would I kill my meals? Especially if it is a cutie like you. Now I digress, answer the question sweetie."

Izuku looked away, but he felt her hands grabbing it, forcing him to look at her. "Yeah, my paintbrush has been broken."

She planted her nose. She slowly trailed from his chest to his neck. She laughed, pointing her teeth at his neck. "I smell a Pinocchio. You are not lying to me, aren't you?"

"Why should I have to tell you, Countess Yu? I don't have to tell you a damn thing, you wretch."

He was met with a slap to his face. This time, the vampire hunter tasted iron, feeling the hotness of blood coming out of his lips. The vampire queen displayed anger on her softened face. No longer did Izuku see beauty, but saw pure rage. Her pupils, purple as the morning sky turned into darkness. She reached for his neck and wrapped it tightly.

"Foolish boy," she screamed. "Did your mother ever taught you some manner on disrespecting a lady?" Izuku strained. As much he wanted to resist, he was bounded to the restraints. She got on his lap, putting her body to his neck. He was gagged, tears escaping from his eyes.

"S...ss-stop," cried Izuku.

"Such pestilence, boy," she said with a raspy voice. "People like you that lack discipline. Lack of respect for the elders. It makes me grateful I am no longer human. The human race is a condemnation and it is things like that pisses me off. Do you understand, boy?"

He was coughing, gagging while releasing a cry.

"Do you understand me, boy?"

"Yes!"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Countess Yu."

Her face softened, returning to her composure. "Good boy," she said while smiling. "Quiet and docile, very good!" She let out a smirk, covering her mouth. "Seems like we need to start over again. That wasn't right." She scoffed. "Yet again, you can be such a pathetic excuse of a human. Such a weakling of a vampire hunter." She licked her lips. "You should be taught how to respect your elders. It makes me glad I am no longer part of the living." She rested her hands on his chest. "Now, I am going to say this once. Has anyone broken your paintbrush? And this time, tell the truth. I can smell the fear in you."

He sniffled, not wanting another grip on the neck. He slowly obliged to her demand. "No."

"No, what?"

"No, Countess Yu."

There was a pregnant silence. She stepped away from the vampire hunter. She gave him a slight look before laughing loudly into the room. "Are you kidding me?! You are telling me that this adorable vampire hunter has conquered many vampires and none acquired to take you away? Damn, they had to be weak."

Izuku felt her lips rubbing against his cheek. He kept his eyes closed.

"Would you like me to change that?"

"What?"

She smirked. "You heard me. Would you like me to change that?"

His face was burning with embarrassment. Embarrassed that he couldn't do anything to stop Countess Yu at this particular juncture. His mission has been compromised. There was nothing he could do. For a moment, he would admit that her beauty was quite fetching, but he dissipated those thoughts. He had to think. He had to figure out how to escape from her.

His thoughts were interrupted as she began pressing herself closer to him. "Very well, boy. You are under my power, my dominion. You are under my control." The vampire grabbed his sunken cheeks, applying pressure to him to look into her eyes. "Look into my eyes." She inhaled deeply, taking a sharp breath before giggling. "Let my power entrance you to give me dominion over you. Let me power take over, show you who is in control. I am your mistress. You will bow before me. You will submit and accept your fate as the meal I am going to partake. And in this position, you should be honored from the subservient status as a so-called vampire hunter."

"Yes, mistress."

"Good. Shall we begin with breaking in your paintbrush?"

To be continued….

Chapter Text

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Deku, baby, come as close as you can to the prison walls and whisper love songs into the tiny cracks. I can forgo the golden beams of light, I can suffer nothing but bleak walls for company, but the love I cannot live without. Tell me of the days to come, the ones where we walk in meadows, a feast of color for eyes that have seen nothing but grey for so long. Tell me of how we walk hand in hand to the river and wash our weary feet. Tell me how we will feel the warm light of the sun on our skin and hug like our love is eternal. Tell me of how we'll watch the fish make their way through cool waters before heading home to rest in each other's arms, always knowing a fresh dawn will come.

It is because when you are there, I want to break you down from limb to limb. I want to tear your limbs as you scream out my name as I moan into the pleasure.

Oh, Deku. How much I love you. How much I want to kill you. Such a beautiful noise you make after seeing you bleed, after tearing out one of your ribs.

Oh, Deku. How you pull my heartstrings. How much I want to see what your insides look like.

You make me excited, Deku. And that makes you second to my favorite thing...blood!


 

Tomoko Shiretoko walked down the hallway, idly counting the number of cells as she passed them. She has always been an idealist. She had kept an open mind since she became quirkless. And taking this job as a prison guard deem doable and dutiful. She wanted to remain a superhero in any way, shape, or form. So, when the position opened at the Maximum Security Prison for Women, she took it without giving it a second thought. The prison had its' reputation like any usual prisons in Japan, underregulated, underappreciated, violent, and degradation from the inmates. Nevertheless, she reminded herself that these inmates were to be reformed, therefore have to suffer the consequences of their mistakes.

In the few short months of her employment, the warden was amazed of her stellar performance. So much so that the warden offered her position in guarding the Administrative Segregation Hall for the most offensive female inmates. She even offered her a raise to go to local area high schools and community college in search of recruitment. Tomoko didn't mind. The fact that she was being praised only increase her pride as a prison guard.

Another reason for Administrative Segregation Hall, or Ad. Seg. was because it was the most isolated part of the prison. Despite reminding herself that that was where the worst offenders resided, but it was also the safest, more or less.

In Ad. Seg., the prison cells were barely six feet by four. The walls were the same thick grey stone as the dwellings of the region, but instead of a wide window with a flower box, there was a mean barred opening with thick metal bars and no glass. In the summer, the fresher air was a relief, helping to alleviate the stench of festering sewage but in the cold seasons it let in a wicked draft and reduced the temperature to near freezing. It was no brighter inside than the gathering gloom of dusk, even at midday. The bed was a plank of wood on legs, there was no mattress, no cushioning and only one thin blanket. It was either suffocatingly quiet or pierced with the screams of tortured inmates.

Tomoko walked cell after cell, giving a cursory glance to ensure that each inhabitant hadn't tried to commit suicide, or was just acting unruly. Worst case scenario of the former and the latter would have resulted in the Emergency Response Team to enter the cell to subdue and restrain the inhabitant within. By this time, she stopped observing any faces or caring to hear their pleas or reasoning of their entry here. However, there was one cell at the end of the hall that garnered her attention. This particular inmate was considered high-risk. So much so that she was required round-the-clock observation via video camera. What astounded the green-haired woman that the inmate hadn't reach the age of adulthood. She was still a few months shy of being eighteen.

As usual, there was a guard standing at the edge of her door. Tomoko could tell that the guard was fearful. His face had a jaundiced appearance. He was trembling from the legs up and his teeth were chattering. Judging by his brute appearance and strong physique, he would have been suited for a male prison. He could bring fear to anyone. However, if this guard had a fearful expression, then this woman had to be in what the warden nicknamed, The Real McCoy.

The guard made an awkward salute, bowing poorly before walking away from Tomoko. He made quick steps before rushing out of the unit. Despite feigning disinterest, she decided to take a peek. As a reminder, she looked at the plaque that displayed the inmate's name.

Toga Himiko

According to her inmate file, she was a relatively petite girl with blonde hair, which she wore in messy styled buns on either side of her head. She also sported straight bangs, cut in an uneven hime cut-like style, and two stray strands of hair on each side of her face. Her eyes were yellow and somewhat squinted, with vertically slit pupils and dark circles under them, and she has pronounced cat-like canine teeth. She had issues with the law in the past, but she either was released because she was a minor or lack of evidence which was due to lack of witnesses.

This time, she was serving a three-year sentence for the attempted murder of a classmate.

Himiko Toga was sitting on her bed, as she usually done in the months since her arrest. She was humming to the tune of Greensleeves.

She released a strong smile when making contact with Tomoko. Himiko pursed her lips and put her fingers to her lip, inciting silence.

"Don't need to disturb us," she said quietly with the tone of absoluteness in her voice. Her eyes slowly drifted away from Tomoko and landed on her swollen belly. Her lips were moving as she was humming to her unborn child.

The walls of her cell were covered with hand-drawn images of a boy with round green eyes, messy dark green hair with black shadows and freckles on both cheeks underneath his eyes. His face was always surrounded by hearts and the smear of red.

Himiko crossed her legs and locked eyes with Tomoko once more. She gave Tomoko a lovingly smile. For a moment, the disturbed look gave Tomoko a chill down to the marrow in her bones. That was enough to have Tomoko read into the file.

It turned out that attempted murder wasn't the only thing Himiko did to her victim.

To be continued….

Chapter Text

A/N: Before reading this, make note that this is a work of fiction. The author doesn't encourage or endorse any of this. It's just fiction and made to be suspenseful. If this story isn't your cup of tea, then please refrain from reading this. Discretion is advised.

Itsuka Kendo writes a manifesto on her future. And she doesn't plan to do it alone.

I think too much. I quell myself with so many thoughts that I am incapable of producing anymore. Does it make sense? Of course not. It is like a factory plant continuing to reproduce, but it is becoming jammed because there is no one there to take it away and distribute them. I am at a point on when should I give a damn about the raucous that occurs. Why do you care? Why should you care? All you care about is to watch and see what happens to me. It kills me inside knowing that I am only valuable when put on display. I am not an animal. I am not someone that should be observed at your leisure. Holding your cell phones, taking pictures for keepsakes that are buried among other keepsakes from previous endeavors. Are you even sure you even look at those images after watching me? I look like a fool and it is forever saved in your gallery. A gallery that has other things that you keep until you have a new phone and that too, becomes abandoned like me.

Yeah, I am calling you guys out. The nerve of you to watch me suffer for the sake of your own pleasure. Insidious, sickening to the heart, to the soul, and to what is ever left of my dim-lit spirit. It hurts me, it kills me. But, you guys don't care. All you care is to fulfill whatever gains you can get from me. To have a false illusion that you feel sorry for me. You look at me with pity, then walk away and talk to your spouse about the weather and whatever small talk to not give a single thought of me.

Then, yet again, I think too much.

I sit here in my bedroom watching television. Matter of fact, the television watches me. I sit there staring at the ceiling as I ask myself if there will be a tomorrow. I was told in church that tomorrow is never promised. Then why in the hell to wait on Sunday if my inevitable is before me? Will I make it to a Sunday? Will something happen before then? Can a semi-truck hit my car I am sitting in? Can I get shot? Kidnapped? Heart attack? I doubt that latter, I am still in school. Very age to have any fragile health. Then yet again, I think too much. I was told by my father that stress is a killer. Could my stress induce a heart attack?

I often hope so.

I think too much. Maybe because I can't convey my feelings very well. Maybe because society doesn't really give a damn about it. Many people are becoming lovers of themselves. So, I am not that surprised that people are only focusing on themselves. The days of peace, joy, love, and community is dead. More of the technologically calluses of our fingers digging deep into our cellular devices, tablets, and the like fill the void of our pitiful despair.

It's your fault that I feel this way. Society created this. You created this. Sometimes, does it hurt to just put the fucking devices down and talk for a change? Does it kill you to just shut the fuck down and pick up a book? Does it hurt to read a book or go outside and fill the kindred nature? Nothing wrong of soaking up the sun and get what mother nature wants to give you.

No, you don't. Too lazy. I don't care. I am entitled. What does nature do for me? These self-entitled comments really piss me off. Just caught in the world of yourself. Well, fuck you. Fuck what you think. Fuck every single idea that came out of your pompous mind.

You seek recognition, but aren't willing to cross the street for it? This society that I am living in disgust me? So many why you's, not enough why me's. Trust me, if there were a country full of myself. People who want to make a change. People who are sick and tired of the detritus that world is given us. Where are our standards? Our expectations? Have we gone that fucking lazy that we settle for less? Well, if I were involved in this debacle, shit will get done.

It will be Darwinian.

That is it. That is the shot. The spark in my brain that is manifesting within. The healing of my sickening mind. Why not be like Darwin? The survival of the fittest. Why not? Why not? Why not? Why not carve what he craves? Why not eat and ingest what he desired.

It is a lot better of where I am living in. Then yet again, I think to my readers who are will look at this and think, is this woman crazy? Does she need to seek professional help? Does she need to talk to someone? She needs a friend.

Then why in the hell am I writing this manifesto then, bitch? That cynical bullshit is the reason how I am getting in this fucking predicament, you asshole. Counseling, am I insane, friends? If these were offered to me, then do you think I wouldn't be here.

How about helping me. Lead me the way. Tell me what I need to do so I can move forward. But no, you won't. "I am too caught up." "I am too busy." "How about another time." Excuses after excuses after excuses to think you were being a hero to me.

I love with a person gives out suggestions. Better yet, I love when a person gives me orders without taking responsibility.

I am sick of talking. What does talking do for me? Replications of words to fill sentences and thoughts. Well, I am the girl who is planning for action.

Actions speak better anyway. Why? Because they know you are nothing to fuck with. That is when one folds and submits. I am laughing as I am writing this in my diary of sparkles and glitter. A fair contrast on how I am feeling, rage.

Next to me is my main supply. Because if the law read this, I won't release the name of this instrument. However, I can attest after practicing is that it will be interesting to watch it enter your carbon composition.

Like God told Jesus, the day nor the time nor the hour won't be released. It will come to a spark like the day it entered my brain.

I lied in bed after another day of brand new fresh hell. It hit me. It did. I laughed. That was the only reaction I can get. It is a better substitute for anger.

I have a plan. I can't quite it is foolproof, but it is going to get messy. Really, really messy. Plenty of people's lives are going to change from this.

Can't quite say it is going to be for the better or for the worse.

Yet again, just like your pompous, self-entitled lifestyle, gain some perspective on it. It may change your life. Or not, couldn't give a damn anymore. I really don't.

There is a checklist I have to do before my plan of natural selection comes to order. I have my instruments ready. They are hidden in plain sight. I am okay. My mother is such a ditz that she doesn't check my room.

My room, I meant. But, both can apply, tee hee.

Anyway, my checklist. The first is to solve my one problem. I will leave it at that. One tiny problem that is going to be cleansed. I can't say she is the source of my behavior, but she needs to be made examples out of. The research I predict that will be studied for many generations to come.

For the record, it wasn't how you raised me. It is just the way it is, mother dearest.

I do have one accomplice to the matter. Rather he wanted it or not, he is in it. I like him. He is such a saint. Not too bad of a person. Why corrupt this saint, you ask? He too needs to be cleansed of how gullible he hides from the real world. As I once put my blunt instrument to his temple, he swore as he urinated on himself that he wouldn't tell of my, our intentions.

I believed him. We played a private game afterward. The first time we both experienced our womanhood and manhood.

Also, it served as blackmail. I am sorry, but hell, why do you care? You readers are still wanting to know about my agenda. No one wants to confine themselves to prying deeper. Everybody wants something right now. Immediately, today, or else they are not reading.

Well, fuck you with your impatient ass. You know what, I am sorry for that rant. That wasn't called for. It doesn't matter because you are going to be witnesses on what I am planning to do.

But, first I have to solve my one problem.

Before I sign off on this, I will briefly explain what I will do following my absolving of my cleanse. Me and my accomplice are taking my mother's car to our institution for higher knowledge.

It is there where psychology, sociology, science, physics, math, and abundance of subjects are going to be put to the test.

Quite an assessment to see if they have learned something from their place of higher learning.

Higher learning.

Yeah, I like that.

That is what I am going to call this manifest of mine. Higher Learning.

The higher learning of Itsuka Kendo.

Itsuka Kendo and the subject of higher learning of natural selection in America.

Itsuka Kendo: the martyr for Darwin and the teacher of natural selection.

I am just going to call it Higher Learning for now.

I will leave that for the media and the police to decide. I am now going to negate these thoughts. Don't when we I plan to strike, but it is going to happen. Like days follows night and night follows day. When I say something, I will do it. May not be today, tomorrow, but it is happening.

However, I have some stress to alleviate. I am turning from my desk and see my accomplice tied to the bed. He looks at me with anguish cries. I come to the bed where he is clothed in nakedness. I lightly stroke his cheek, tasting his tears. He has eyes of a puppy, begging me to stop my acts.

I shake my head. He should be begging for me to not stop taking advantage of his manhood again. Where he is going when we are finished, there won't be much of that. My mother isn't home. No one is. So, plenty of time to resume what we shouldn't do.

Like I've said, once we are finished, there won't be much of that.

Seeing his panicked stricken face gives me the pleasure. Why not? I must have some kind of feeling of life before completing my manifesto.

Since you all are witnesses and he is with me, it is our manifesto.

Itsuka Kendo and Izuku Midoriya.

"Come now, Izuku. Let's not be this way. I promise I won't hurt you much. If you obey me, then I promise I won't be as rough on you."

"No, no, no, don't look at me like that. Stop that now, sweetness."

"Do I really need to tie that gag tighter around your mouth?"

"That is what I thought. Quiet and docile, very good."

"If you can withstand my love, then I will reduce our time tonight, okay?"

"Then yet again, I have a lot of tension to release. So forget what I have said."

"Here I come."

Chapter Text

A/N: The following story is a drama and suspense. It contains strong sexual content and sacrilegious content. If this isn't your cup of tea, then please refrain from it. As a reminder, the content in this story doesn't reflect the views of the author. If you can deviate fantasy from reality, then continue with the story.

This story is written from Izuku's point of view. Conversations that are written in italics are Izuku's conscience.

How do you know when you feel it in the air? How do you know when you feel it in your voice? What signs gives the ability to take the forward steps? Once we take those forward steps, which path is suitable for us? Is it smooth? Treacherous? Mountainous? I have always been one-tracked when making decisions? Similar when discussing the main topic and have the supporting details to back it up. That is my style. That is how I am built. But, hell, even manufacturers can produce errors and recalls. Can a human do the same as well?

I have always asked these pertinent, off-centered questions. I guess that is the reason why I was labeled a genius. At least that was what according to the doctors and the therapists explained to my parents. I pictured their face. Mouths agape and dry like the pale brown color of the doctor's office. I was there. The carpet smelled like old coffee. There were white, crusty dry patches there as well. He should really consider in investing a vacuum cleaner or a housekeeper.

I am kidding. I am not a genius. At least in my mind, I am. It's okay to dream.

Excuse me for my chuckling. I think it is okay to laugh for a change. There is nothing wrong with laughter. It fills the body with joy. Gives us the agility to know there is a way out at the end of the road. Even if that road was invisible, there is some chance of meeting its finite.

Once again, my questions. How do you know when you feel it in the air? How do you know when you feel it in your voice. The feelings envelop me like a soft and warm blanket; wrapped and individually stitched with love around you. Made from a mother, a grandmother, better yet, a woman of your desire.

Speaking of desire, a strong word indeed. How can one desire something? Of course, many people will have a variety of explanations to determine their cause. However, how do you really desire someone? Do you catch feelings? Your heart beats? Your stomach churns? Is that the desire based on need? Want? Love? Lust? The bible that sits beside my nightstand tells me that no one should love or desire something more than the Lord. In fact, I believe it qualifies in one of the deadly seven sins.

Not being a skeptic, or at least in front of my parents, how can it be resolved? It is here on Earth, but yet again it is considered wrong. Maybe it depends. I guess for it is long that it is not similar in the covenants of God, then we are okay. Are we?

Do you feel it in the air? Do you feel it in your voice? Like a siren in those Greek mythology books, I read in school. The enchantress entrances you in song. Following you along to the ends until you meet your doom. Are those serenades sweet? My God with the questions.

That is my mindset, ladies and gentlemen. I rationalize things. The gift and the fallacy of being a genius (in my own mind). Now, us geniuses are no different than everybody else. We eat, sing, shout, cry, love the same way. Of course, we have a schematic of differences. I imagine blueprints similar to the cooky, quirky individual from a well-known television show based on the origins of the Earth.

What I am trying to get is that how do you know when you feel it in the air? When do you feel it in your voice? When do you know when you like someone?

And once you get that feeling, is it acceptable to love that person. Rather it is a girl? A boy? An older person? A younger person? Even someone in your own family?

No, no. I shouldn't think that way. It is not right. It is unnatural and it is a sin.

If no one knows, then it is not a secret. That inner voice in my head. Reminds me so much of the serpent from the book of Genesis. I read the Bible from time to time. Especially when I feel conflict with temptation.

Who is going to know that you feel this way? My mind reels itself again. Parasitic as it wraps inside and encloses you. There is no symbiotic relationship. No love, just pure lust of the flesh.

Loving someone should not matter. Especially if that love is of a someone of the same blood.

Get out of my head, damn it. I shouldn't have to feel this way. It is not right. This is wrong.

Wrong. In your Bible, family members got together and have children. What about then is so different than today?

That is because it was different. It was in the needs of procreating. Not lust.

Are you sure?

Sure, it is pure fact. The Bible tells us so.

Poor Izuku. The Bible is device constructed by man to make gullible fools like you on not having an enjoyable life. Do you actually take that stuff word for word?

Yes. Yes, I do. It gives me hope and protection. To help me overcome that lust.

Yeah, yeah. How is that working out? Don't think I didn't see you standing in the laundry room. I believe that you had your hands on her "delicates?"

I was only sorting out laundry.

Laundry? Right? So, I guess inhaling her soiled panties was a method of curing your impurities? Izuku, you are a good time. I will tell you that.

Why should I care what you think? You don't exist. You are not real. Just a thought in my imagination.

Oh, Izuku. I am more real than it gets. I am you. The real you who knows you. Your wants. Your needs. Your desires?

As much I may have these thoughts of her. I don't see her in that fashion. She is my mother for goodness sake.

Keep telling yourself that, Izuku. By the way. Nice touch on inhibiting the name of God. Not keeping that in vain like your lie, huh?

Fuck you. I scream out loud.

Tell that to your mother. Tell that to the multitudes of garment you have soiled. The number of minutes and hours and days and weeks you confined yourself to the room to relieve your stress. The thoughts of her in her bathing suit, or lack thereof. When you take peeks under her skirt during dinner or when you are "falling asleep." You may fool yourself, but I know what you like and crave, Izuku. We are one in the same. One in the same.

No, no. I scream again. I don't like her like that. You are lying.

There is no one there. I sit on the stairwell screaming at an apparition that does not even exist. I clench my fist in frustration. My eyes are narrow. As tight as my face is, I keep telling myself it is not true. It is not true.

I get up from the stairwell and make my way upstairs. My usual route. I pass through my parents' bedrooms and go into my room. My domicile. My sanctuary. The place where I can be Izuku Midoriya.

I step inside of the bedroom and threw my backpack beside the bed. The room scheme was gray, similar to what I am feeling right now. Rain is in the forecast. I can feel it. I can sense it. The day is still young.

I had time to take care of business before they return home.

On the nightstand, the Bible stands proud. Awaiting for me whenever troubles come deep. My oasis from the world. My verbal melody from heaven.

I turn it over. Quietly asking God for forgiveness.

One in the same. One in the same.

One in the same, I say. I get out of my bed and shut the door. I lock the door to ensure nobody disturbs me. I return to my bed. It was soft. A huge contrast for my stiffened heart. I reach under the sheets of my bed to retrieve an item for my "encounter."

I have a lump in my throat. It is not too late. The Bible is right there. I can save myself from damnation. It is not too late.

A strong scent of my item enters my nose. It blockades any of my inhibitions. The throbbing feeling between my loins awakens.

Forgive me, Lord.

I took off my pants and neatly place them on the nightstand. That way the Bible won't see my shame. I keep my boxers on. Just in case if I am interrupted. I sigh as I take a good scent of my fallacy. The forbidden sin. The lust that confides hidden in the small and detriment compartment of my heart. The missing delicate of my mother's panties.

They were black. The color of her bathing suit in the summer. The color that is opposite of her charming personality. The color of my shame. The color of my regret. The color of my lust.

I won't explain how I got them or when I got them. I already have enough darkness within myself to hate.

What are you waiting for, Izuku? Consume the lust of your dear mother.

I whispered to my mother and God for forgiveness. There is a place in Hell for people like me. The demons applaud as I glide my hand to my dick.

The thoughts of her appeared. That alone is enough to arouse my dick.

I grip on the shaft and began massaging my dick. It doesn't take long until I saw precum leaking from its silt. I ingest her scent as I start playing with my dick.

I rub the phallus, making my dick sensitive. I picture my thoughts on my mother performing this. No, no, no. I can't. Her panties are enough. They are enough because any further, then it will become worse.

Keep telling yourself, Izuku. Indulge. Indulge. Indulge. Show your naughty mother on how she can work your dick.

No.

You crave her, don't you? Wanting her to prance around with nothing but a t-shirt and her black panties. Maybe some stockings. Better yet, maybe naked in your room. You can play some music. Maybe something to get her comfortable. She can wear black lipstick. Serenade in her in the glad tithings of Green Day, Three Days Grace and Chicago. Maybe some Jerry Garcia. Get her comfortable. You enjoy. She enjoys. You get her all wet.

Shut up!

You kiss her neck. She flinches. She protests, but you keep going. You aim for her neck.

Shut up!

You continue sliding your tongue to her breasts. You can her ragged breath saying 'Son, don't do this. Don't do this. This is not right…

Shut up! Shut the hell up!

By this time, my thrust is getting faster. I let out a sharp cry as I am moaning under my breath.

"MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!"

That's right. Scream out the name of your beloved, you pervert.

Shut up!

You sick bastard!

Leave me alone!

How can I? When I am you.

Fuck you!

Save that for your mother.

I am hearing her voice. The soothing darkened voice that is my mother, Inko.

"Izuku, faster. Oh my God, Izuku. Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck your dear mother, sweetie!"

No, no, Mother. This is wrong. This is not right.

I am coming. I tremble as I climax all over myself. As I relaxed, I saw my hand covered in semen. Covered in my shame.

I want to cry. I have committed a sin. A sin, that I am not ready to admit. I grab the tissues from my nightstand to wipe my hands. I have hidden the panties back in the secret place. I retrieve my pants and turn over my Bible.

I sat on the bed with many different thoughts. It leaves me empty. Want kind of person feels this way.

"Son, are you home?"

I hear my father knocking on my door.

"I am home," I respond.

"Your mother and I are back with lobster. Do you want some?"

"Yes, ma'am. Be out in a minute."

I sigh as I get out of bed. Before I open the door, I hear my thought.

What am I trying to get is that how do you know when you feel it in the air? When do you feel it in your voice? When do you know when you like someone?

And once you get that feeling, is it acceptable to love that person. Rather it is a girl? A boy? An older person? A younger person? Even someone in your own family?

Especially when you are interested in my mother.

It's not true, I lament. It's not true.

I walk outside of my room with hunger in my stomach and denial in my brain.

To be continued…

An intense chapter! I hope you've enjoyed (or question). Stay tuned for more as I figure on what I will plan to do next for this chapter. Take care!

Chapter Text

Hey, guys! I am working on returning to writing drama since writing drama was my first love. The story is in an alternative universe. Synopsis: Izuku begins his new year at a new school. Izuku finds it hard to adjust since his past experience of abuse from his ex-girlfriend. One day, he confides in a teacher that he thinks he could trust. As time goes on, the teacher and Izuku become more than just teacher and student. Suddenly, ex-girlfriend arrives and tries to repair the relationship with him. As this is going on, another sense of familiar trouble brew when the teacher notices it. Is Izuku going to move on from the past? Or he is going to relive his past?

Warning: the story features abuse (female-on-male violence) and strong graphic content. If you guys don't find this as your cup of tea, please refrain from reading. Please, keep an open mind. The author doesn't support and/or encourage the content presented in this story. If any of this triggers any past events or you have known someone in that predicament, please refrain from reading it. Take care!


The frigid air penetrated my skin, chilling my blood, sinking into the marrow of my bones like wet concrete. It's wickedness gnawing onto my stomach like a rat. What if I tell you that the cold is the least of my worries? What if I tell you it is more than soothing than any type of pain? Macabre does it sound? Yes! What I am about to tell you is more chilling and riveting than a seasonal rush. A story in which will display my troubles. An opportunity to escape my pain and to start anew. But what if that new opportunity wasn't better than the last one? Just read my story and let it be proof of my disdain.

Winter 20XX, One year ago….

The metro bus pulled to a stop. He normally never took the bus, but the heavy snow obligated him to take his only option. He wasn't alone. He and his girlfriend of six months, Momo Yaoyorozu, was with him.

He allowed her to get off of the bus first, which was the gentleman thing to do, he thought. After he stepped onto the crunchy ice, the bus pulled away to parts unknown. He reached into his backpack for a scarf. He even gave Momo his spare. She was quiet but nodded her head as a sign of thanks.

They held hands, more for the warmth than out of infatuation. It was a gentle calmness between the pair. A calmness that was more recent than in the past. The red dusk shined brightly as it sank into the horizon. The fifteen-year-old knew that he didn't have long to stay at Momo's, but she insisted on his being there.

She told him that her parents weren't going to be at home. Her father just returned to his job overseas and her mother was pulling an all-nighter at her firm. Izuku got used to the normalcy of Momo being alone. At her young and tender age, she was learning quickly to take care of herself. He watched her bathed whatever warmth she could get from the sun. She explained at some point that she tended to get lighter in the colder months. He didn't fret nor judged, but quietly shook his head as they made their way to their neighborhood.

As they crossed the street, he caught sight of the nearby diner. The truck was unloading the fish, the beef, and vegetables. He knew the owner was getting her weekly supplies. From the docks and farms to the hungry mouths of the customers, everyone was meeting their purpose from the beginning to the end. He knew at some point, he, too, would park himself into the diner to get his usual. But not tonight, Momo wanted him to eat cookies and drink tea. It was the first in a while since they have been together.

"Momo-chan," whispered Izuku.

"What's the matter," questioned Momo.

"You're hurting my hand."

She looked surprised. She loosened the grips on her hands. "Sorry about that, Icchan. Just...just got a lot on my mind."

The brunette didn't say anything further. She continued holding his palms as they were approaching the sidewalk of her street. Izuku looked away from his girlfriend and instead looked at the surrounding neighborhood as the snow blanketed the streets. The weatherman already predicted more snow coming to the Shizuoka suburb in the next few hours. Izuku definitely knew he couldn't stay long, but Momo insisted. Lately, he has been getting a strange aura from her. He wasn't sure how it began, but the more he spends time with her, the further apart he wanted to be from her.

Momo made a small joke and the couple shared a good laugh before making their way to the front door of her home. She let go of Izuku's hand to get the keys from her sweater. She unlocked the door. She allowed him entry first. He put his backpack at the usual spot and she continued upstairs. She told him to go into the kitchen. She said that she made cookies. They were sitting in the stove. She just had to get the tea prepared.

Izuku sat at the kitchen table. He took off his jacket and positioned it on his seat. He kept a calm demeanor. It wasn't his first time being at the Yaoyorozu residence. It was not even his first time the couple was alone. However, the pit of his stomach was churning harshly. He felt like a metal ladle scraping in a pot. The moment he got on the bus, he was feeling that way. He thought it would pass, but it remained. Even as he got further near her residence, he started to feel pressure on his brain. It was like something was warning him, telling him he shouldn't be there. He needed to leave while he had the chance. Even if he followed his gut, Momo was already in the kitchen.

She kept her usual, trademark demeanor. She went into the cabinet. She pulled out tea bags. She asked if he was fine with microwaved water instead of the stove. He shrugged off the indifference. She pulled the cookies from the stove. She mentioned her mother kept them in moderate heat so it will be warm for them when they returned.

She put the cookies on the table. She then got the plates from the cabinet. He wanted to help, but she insisted that she was fine without his help. She came around and pecked him on the cheek. He kept an eye closed. Her kiss was jagged. He felt the dry lip skin scraping his cheek. The coolness of her saliva. He felt a shiver down his spine. She kissed him again. She told him that she was going to get something from upstairs. She told him to wait.

Leave!

A few minutes later, Momo came back with a small brown grocery bag. He raised his eyebrow when he heard a loud ping hitting the kitchen counter where she placed it. She got the water from the microwave and poured it into two cups. She put the tea bags in there as well. She hummed an unfamiliar tune as she was putting her items on a tray. She turned around and put the items on the table. She also turned around and grabbed the grocery bag.

Izuku frowned as she pulled out items that didn't match the entree for afternoon dessert.

Leave!

There was a small hammer, a pair of pliers, a small paper clip, a candle, and some matches. She pulled each one while carrying her tune. The more she pulled, the slower and deeper the tune.

Leave!

He didn't question it. He tried convincing himself that her reason for inviting him was to do a project. He smiled to keep the mood. As he reached for the cookie, she instantly slapped his hand.

"The cookie is for later." Izuku saw her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed, narrowing to anger. There were rare moments in which Momo carried that demeanor. When something of hers was stolen, when someone violated any school code of ethics, or someone made her mad. She was very high strung, so it didn't faze him, but he knew the moment she gripped her hands on the hammer, something was not right.

Leave!

"I have been worried about you, Izuku," she spoke in a calm tone, no longer using his nickname. He kept his eye on the hammer. "You have been very distant with me."

"Distant. Distant how," retorted Izuku. He slowly pulled an inch from the chair. He took calm breaths. "I don't know what you are talking about. I didn't know we were having this issue." He let out a small nervous laugh. "You know if there were problems, I will tell you."

She kept her grip on the hammer. She relaxed a little. "Of course, you will. You are my boyfriend."

Izuku was too focused on her lips and her hammer that he didn't see her other hand making contact with his nose. He was completely off guard as he made contact with the floor. The impact from the floor made a sharp pain coming from the back of his head. Dazed and hearing ringing noises, Momo came and returned with another punch. "Did I hurt you, my little Icchan? Please accept my apologies," Momo's tone of voice revealed the insincerity of her apology. Izuku was riddled with fear.

"You are my boyfriend. You will tell me anything and everything," she said angrily. She walked away from him. She went to her table and slammed it with both of her fists. "FUCK!"

Izuku cradled his face, feeling the wetness from his nose. His stomach began to hurt. He wanted to vomit as the pain radiated throughout his body. He wanted to scream but feared to attract the attention of the neighbors.

"You must think I am a game to you," asked Momo as she walked toward him.

"No," Izuku said as he tried to defend himself, "I don't think you are playing."

"Really," asked Momo as she made another punch to his nose. This punch came back with more blood on her hand. "Did I always tell you to stop talking with other girls?" She made a kick at him in the stomach.

"Argh," cried Izuku after she hit him. He screamed again when she made another kick to the stomach. He was backing away from Momo. When seeing that, she pulled him back and kicked him again in the stomach. That blow made him wept like a puppy. "And still, I catch you talking to other girls. You know damn well to not to talk to ANYONE unless you have my permission." She watched Izuku as he covered his hands to protect himself.

"Oh, poor baby," said Momo with a tone of insincerity, "Is my little doggie hurt? You've brought this on yourself." He didn't say a word. He concentrated on his wounds before Momo gave him a slap across his face, temporarily blinding his vision. His face hit against the kitchen cabinet. The more she hit, the weaker he was becoming. He continued to back away, but Momo grabbed his leg and dragged him towards her. "You can't run from me, my little Icchan!"

She walked away and went to a drawer and returned with a wooden spoon. With the wooden spoon, she forcefully put it in his mouth. His eyes widened and he began screaming his muffled cries as she got on top of him. She sat on top of his chest. She grabbed on his arms. He was unable to see, but he felt the strong grips on his hand. His girlfriend put his hand on the seat. She grabbed the hammer and held it high as she could before slamming it to his hand. The impact made him cry in agony. She reached for the hammer and made contact with his hand again.

"You committed a sin, Izuku," she said angrily. "Therefore you must be punished."

She grabbed his middle finger of his hand. She reached for the hammer and made contact with his middle finger. He let out another scream before she got off of him. He quickly went to his hand as he cried over the pain.

"You are my boyfriend. If I catch you with anybody else, talking with anyone else, I am coming for that thick brain next," she said before throwing the hammer away from her sight. "DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!" Izuku nodded as she removed the spoon from his mouth. He coughed loudly as he was catching his breath. He had groaned deeply because of his pains.

Momo grabbed the match and lit it. She then reached for the paper clip and the pliers. She put the match on the end of the paper clip. She discarded the match and took Izuku's hand. She saw the impact of her punches as blood was dripping from his nose. She also saw the discoloration of his nose. She knew that he had a broken finger and a bruised stomach. She sighed as she relaxed from her earlier demeanor. "I'm sorry, Icchan," she said calmly. "You know how jealous I can get. I am sorry. Please, forgive me. It won't happen again." She sat on the floor next to him. She gave him a peck on the cheek followed by another peck. She took deep breaths when seeing the aftermath of her act.

"Is there blood coming from your fingernail," she asked. Knowing he wasn't going to answer, she took his finger and poked a hole through the nail with the paper clip. He winced in the pain. He saw as blood was dripping through his fingernail. She kept it up so the blood could drain. Blood spilled from the nail to down his hand.

"Why would you do keep doing this, Momo," questioned Izuku. He didn't want to be there. He wanted to go home. He wanted nothing to do with her. She took him by his face and gave him a small peck on his lips.

"Because I love you," she said calmly. "That is why I do this to you. To let you know your place and where you belong in my place." She went back to the counter to grab a wet towel. She gave it to him. "I promise I won't do it again. Please, give me another chance."

While he was cleaning himself, she was setting up for their tea and cookies. He knew it was a lie. Just another lie. A side of Momo that many don't see. A side where she reveals her true colors when they are alone. Jealous, aggressive, one of many traits that filled her veins. She began serving him and urged him to eat. He followed her instruction. Who knew when she would strike again.

To be continued….

Chapter Text

Hey, guys! [girlfriendoftheauthor] here. It has been a while since I have written anything. So, at "Quirk Interrupted," we try to experiment with different stories until we see one fit. This particular story takes Izuku in a different direction. Once again, he isn't already canon, but you will find out.

The premise is Izuku Midoriya is an aspiring comic book artist working for an agency with his overbearing boss, Kyoka Jirou. He lives a bachelor life and always goes to a cafe to meet with his single friends, best friend, Shouto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugou, Ochako Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui. Each friend tackles the same problems as Izuku: relationships, love, lust, the search for the easy answer in life. Nevertheless, one thing they have in common is that they all stick it through and be chaotic together.

Anyway, enjoy the story!

My boss tells me to finalize the backdrop for this page before submitting for print. She has been bearing down my ass for the last several weeks to make this name before our due date. I scan and observe the page before using my ink to cover what is necessary before submitting. She stands before me. I can feel her breath hovering over me. Reminds me of the outdoor heating vents on restaurant patios during cooler seasons. I am grateful that her fragrance compensates for it. The smell of honeydew lingers around my nostrils, enticing me with lecherous thoughts. I try my hardest to negate these thoughts. It isn't every day that a twenty-something like me can land a job to draw original-English language manga. It is a rarity, and damn it, I must resist her devilish charms. But that goes to say with the thoughts occurring in my mind.

Oh, I should mention that I go by the name of Izuku Midoriya. I am an aspiring comic book artist, but for now, I am working on creating backdrops and backgrounds and making sure that the boss doesn't make any errors. On my spare, I go and fetch coffee and supplies for other crew members. My position says supportive artist, but the words gofer and slave sound much better in my resume. But now I digress.

I blow the dust from the ink and give it the finishing touches. I use the sheet protector to put the material inside and seal it with an envelope. I turn to the sights of my boss and cross my legs as the signal of my completed task.

"Ok, boss lady, the background is done. My moments of this union allocated work is over," I tell her before looking at my watch. A habit, if you will, to alert myself and others that I no longer want to be here but places that excite me and reminds me that there is more to life.

She displays a smirk, showing the rosy shade of her lipstick. Her teeth are perfect. My compliments to the dentist who took out the time for her pearly whites. God bless the person who has dealt with the tears and shreds from the lovely Barracuda.

"If you were as crafty in your work than in your wordplay, then you wouldn't be here. Wouldn't you?" A sting she gives me. The deep voice of femininity standing before me, God, and all of her glory. Standing at five foot four inches, the charming purple-haired dutchess gives any man or woman a run for their money. Her skin was porcelain and smooth to the touch, or for the moments I have brushed past her to the bathroom or getting lunch for the others. She leans against the desk, showing her belly button chain as it dangles. Her Levi jeans are pressed and tight, displaying a small hint of her white panties. Her Boys Suck t-shirt doesn't add insult but creates a fire of tension between us. The location of the fire? Don't ask.

The ever-so-lovely Kyoka Jirou - The Barracuda!

The Barracuda, I mean my boss, takes the envelope and puts in her briefcase. She quickly snaps it before wrapping around her shoulder. She crosses her arms. I know she isn't finished with me yet. She never is.

"If you are able to get stuff done on time as I tell you, then this wouldn't be a discussion," she tells me while pursing her lips. "As long as you have worked for me, we have the bottom line. Work is to be submitted each Friday at all time. There should be no reason for this." She examines me. "Unless you are still making time to tame your cats."

I shrug my shoulders. "By any means, what happens in my home life is my home life. And I don't recall you being apart of that, Barracuda."

She taps her nails, a habit she gets when I know I got on her bad side. "Just because you are talented doesn't mean I can't fire your ass. Your ass is easy to let go than anything else in this place."

"Easy, easy," I tell her. "I am quite delicate with my ass. It needs sweet tender, love, and care, boss. If you want, I can demonstrate some examples if you are interested."

She blows her hair into her bangs. "I think I will pass, Izuku." She turns around and makes her way to the foot of the door. "Under no circumstances, I should be here after six in the evening on a Friday night. There are things that must be tended. Don't have this happen again. Are my orders clear?"

I crack my knuckles. "Clear as crystal. Clear as a bright, summer's day, boss." I turn off my computer and get my briefcase before following her from the building. She waits for me as always. I get the keys and lock the door. I turn on the security codes before leaving the building. Once the building is secured, I help her to her car.

The cool, autumn air welcomes us, giving us a shiver. I have lecherous thoughts as I envy the shirt that has contact with her supple breast. She slaps me behind my head.

"Get whatever thought you have of me in your mind, you stupid fucking abortion," she tells me firmly and sternly.

"Barracuda, you are mistaken. I was thinking about how the weather brings out the best of your eyes. Very fetching," I say.

"Ha!" She scoffs as she unlocks her Mercedes. "Your work is brilliant, I may admit. But your mind is faulty and needs a reset."

I extend my hand. "I wouldn't mind if you come to help me, tech support."

"God bless the mother who raised you," she tells me as she goes inside of her car. I was getting ready to return to mine before she puts down the window. "Izuku, come here."

I walk to her window and kneel. "Yeah, what's up?"

"We have a new account coming to us on Monday and I am going to need you to come earlier than usual." She licks her lips. "Can eight o'clock be okay?"

"Sure, but of course I have to clear my schedule and to alert my guest of their early departures."

"I think your guest can handle leaving a couple of hours early. But seriously, it is important. Can I put my faith in you that you will be here on time?"

I put out my pinky finger. "On the honor of the House of Midoriya, I solemnly swear."

She shakes her head as she makes the pinky swear with me. "Enjoy your weekend." She puts up her window and heads out of the driveway.

As I make my way to my vehicle, I hear her make a final comment. "I hope you get blue balls, Deku!"

"If this your way of wanting to sleep with me, my balls thank you."

"In your fucking dreams, Izuku!"

She makes a stop at the corner before turning away from sight. I shake my head and make my way to my vehicle. It is far from the Barracuda's Mercedes. I am stunting in my 2005 Honda Civic - My Bucket. It isn't the best, but this girl gets the job done.

I fasten my seatbelt and get myself comfortable. I turn on the ignition and turn on the radio. In the mood for R&B, I tune in to The Internet. "Love Song" was the chosen as I listen to the former Odd Future veteran sing her way into the hearts of many who understand good music. I bob my head as I drive onto the street.

I look at my phone and I see plenty of messages. Some come from my exes, my parents, a couple of my friends, and plenty from my guests. Not to beat around the bush, but the term is a nickname for the girls I have relations. I won't describe myself as a whore or a non-committal man, but I am at the prime of my life in which I am not ready to settle down. I don't treat the girls any kind of way. I give them the love that they wanted, we have the relations, and the next day, I am free to give it to another girl who requires my loving.

So, I am just servicing the girls that want some loving. Easy as that. One of my many objectives to keep Izuku Midoriya going. I get onto the interstate where I get a phone call. I look and see it is from my best friend and wingman, Shouto Todoroki. I answer on the third ring.

"Talk to me, Shouto," I tell him as I change lanes.

"What's up, bro," he tells. "Just checking on your ETA. Are you close?"

"Not just yet, bro. Be on the way within thirty minutes."

"The Barracuda kept you?"

"Who else on a Friday evening?"

"I think you enjoy being with her."

"Are you kidding? Her best assets are her assets!"

"That is Spanish for you love her," he says while smirking. "What's the matter? She is giving you blue balls because she won't sleep with you?"

"Fuck off, dude," I scoff. "You must have forgotten about the man who put you on. Weren't for me, your balls would have turned into either raisins or receiving ghost loads."

"Still touchy about the Barracuda. My fault, dude."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, who is coming to the cafe tonight?"

"The usual. You, me, Ochako, Tsuyu, and that raggedy ass Katsuki. The squad."

"Squad?"

"Squad."

"Squad," we say loudly on the phone.

We exchange laughter for a few moments before returning back to the matter at hand. "Do you think Itsuka might be there tonight or maybe Setsuna?"

"Knowing with you, you can conquer both. You are lucky to have that kind of charm, dude."

"The emerald-haired cinnamon roll knight can't help how girls become in awe on this magnificence!"

He laughs. "Sure, bro. Any chance you can help me score tonight?"

I give a moment to think. Let me tell you guys something about my straight-laced friend, Shouto Todoroki. This man is a saint among saints. A leader that should be honored in many ways than one. He is hardworking, intelligent, and very dedicated. Instead of taking the route of being an artist like myself, he decides to pursue the route of working as Public Relations for the Tokyo Metropolis Police Department. The strengths he has in hard work, he lacks in the department of women.

As much I can get a girl for him, it wouldn't work. Not doubting my charm or wishing misfortune, but in the game, there is a player who must take one for the team. And he happens to be that player. Honestly, with the number of girls I have been with, it is not his nature, but what can you expect from a virgin?

Anyway, let me get back to the story. I don't want him to think I am stalling for an answer.

"Let's see what kind of bites are there and I can help you as always."

"Appreciate it. But all of us are here waiting for you. So get here as possible."

"Oi, oi, I will. Just make sure I have a drink before I get there."

"The usual?"

"Ginger ale with a lemon twist."

"Gotcha!"

I hang up the phone and tune in to the music. I put the window down and put on my Ray-Bans sunglasses. Beyond the horizon, the sun illuminates the shimmering haze of our beloved Tokyo. In the far distance, the silhouette of the skyline pierces through the warm glow like a jagged mountain range. The millions of lights from the skyscrapers glitter as I am conjoined with the others on the highway. The highway serves as the main vein as we serve as the blood cells as I make my way to the main artery of the city.

The hustle and bustle of the city exchange the attire of the man and transforms into their beings of the night. There are many places a man can go on a Friday night, but I go where I am wanted. A place where no one is judged. A place where I can relax and mellow out from the hard working week.

I drive into the parking lot where I put a few coins into the parking meter. I give it about three, four hours, give or take. It depends on what plans my friends have or what girl do I plan to take home tonight. I walk to the parking station where I give the usual attendant a few bucks to watch my vehicle for any suspicious people. I look both ways before crossing the street and making my way to the smoky jazz bar where my friends are waiting for me.

It is my little slice of life. The golden marquee shines brightly onto the pavement, welcoming people who are worthy enough to come within its confinements.

The Good Life Cafe.

My name is Izuku Midoriya and this is where our story begins.

Chapter Text

The weatherman predicted torrential rainfall approaching our area. He predicted that it could last through the weekend. He warned us to stay dry and shelter ourselves from the approaching storm. I wish if he knew of the thunderstorm that was brewing in my mind. The gust of wind, bringing potential damage to the synapses of my brain; led by losing control as I make an impact upon those who are caught in my wrath. Can the weatherman predict the magnitude of the damage surging in the heavy depths of my brain? Can he warn the others to prepare for the damage? The damage that is being down to my weeping heart; to my conscience; and to this very vehicle whose tires I have slashed?

Along with using my twelve-inch blade to slash the bastard's tires. I even decorated it in nail polish. I smashed a brick through his windshield. To complete the disaster, I clogged his gas tank with sugar. I don't think the bastard won't be using his vehicle to subdue any wives anytime soon.

I could have gone longer. I even had the crowbar and the poor man's machete to complete. I couldn't. My hands were grasped by the only person I have in my corner right now, my son.

His pleading eyes addresses the same pain. He tells me to stop. It is not worth it. He reaches his hand. I know what he wants. I grip onto it because that is the only source of power I feel I have left. The bastard took everything else of mine, except for myself. Tears escape and drop to the ground. I hope there are hidden roses growing from the concrete where my tears fall. Seeping into the cracks and make something from this horrid world.

Icchan is still there. His hand still in reach. I still grip the gun as I want to further damage the vehicle and among other things. I want to hurt, no, kill this son-of-a-bitch for what he has done to me. I take sharp breaths, biting my lips as I am tasting blood. Something in which I want to taste, but from the man. But from the man….

But from the man who has decided to shit in my kennel. The man who decided to sleep with my wife. The man who calls himself Toshinori Yagi has taken his seed in my wife, the love of my life, time after time after time. And what is worst, the bastard has done in my own damn bed. In the very house where I have slept. In the very house where my son lives. What kind of disrespectful prick do such a thing?

Anger brews. The weatherman needs to tell the people of this town to take cover. For I want to precipitate some shells onto the motherfucker.

Icchan still stands there. He gives me such a pitiful look. I feel sorry for the kid. I know he doesn't like what is going on. But, he doesn't understand what hardship I am going through. He doesn't know when something you love and cherish gets taken away like it is nothing. Just crumpled leaves that tears and tears until there is nothing more to tear. I kind of smile at that point. I mean, I feel nothing.

Well, I am kind of stoned. Learning of your wife's infidelity can make a man ingest things to kill the pain. I wonder how she felt taking in another man's pride that wasn't mine. Did she think of me? Did she think of our son? Did she think of the consequences that come every single fucking time before bathing herself in another man's scent?

I still have my hands tightly grip on the poor man's machete. Icchan is still holding his hands out.

"Give it to me, Dad." He tells me. This time, he edges forward. He takes cautious steps. He is shaking and I know he scared. He should be scared. I am trembling because of the actions that are occurring at this point in time. My feet are planted. My mind is a mess. At any moment, the sirens will be coming. I can picture the howling of its pitchy sound along with its blue and white. It still doesn't compare the sounds of womanly moans calling out the name that doesn't belong to you.

"Give me the gun, Dad." He says again. His voice straining, begging me. I am fortunate that he is my only kin seeing this. He is a boy. I think he can handle more than my nieces or any other family members. They wouldn't understand. I hope they don't. They don't need to see that I am doing a deed that may as well fry me. I keep my grip on the gun. I turn away from my son. I stare into the depths of the driveway. I see the wind drifting from the trees. The toys that remind me of innocence. I have a toy in my hand. A toy that can pack a powerful punch. I look to the front porch where I see red dripping to the concrete.

Besides the jump ropes and the bicycle, I see the bastard grabbing holding to his chest, extending his hand for mercy. The agonal breathing lets me know there isn't much time left.

Inko is very fortunate to not have been there. For a bullet could have cracked or cascaded her into a faded memory; just like our beloved past.

The bastard pleads with me. He begs for mercy. He wants to apologize for the pain he has cost. Icchan still cries out to me to let go of the gun. I can hear his tears. I can hear his wails. He screams that he knows about his mother. He doesn't want to lose his father.

"Mom is already lost, Dad. I don't want to lose you either," he says to me in a strained voice. "It isn't worth it, Dad. You are more than that. I love you and that's what matters. Don't lose your soul for that man. Him of all people." He is walking forward. "I can hear them coming. Please, let go of the gun."

I don't look. My finger is slowly gripping on the trigger. My finger is slowly edging at the stairs. My eyes are wincing from the sweat that poured from my aching head. The thunderstorm is slowly approaching. I turn to the eyes of my own son. He needs to take shelter.

I cock my gun.

"Dad?"

I began to make my aim.

"Dad?"

I close my eyes.

"Dad!"

"I love you, Icchan! Pray for me! Pray for my soul!"

"Dad, no!"

Then the sound of thunder.

"I still love my husband, but I often feel a disconnect with him."

Yet I still love her.

"Does he perform better than I? I can take you into the deeper parts of heaven."

Yet I still love her.

"This doesn't compare to him. I love my husband, but I love how you make feel."

Yet I still love her.

"Run away with me. Start a new life and get away from what's holding you down. The child will be alright without you. He has a father that can provide. You deserve the best. Something much better than what is here."

Yet I still love her.

"You make me feel pleasure in many ways. Nowhere near my husband. Despite loving him, I don't feel that kind of love like I have for you. I am really starting to fall deeper into you."

Yet I still love her.

My ring slowly slips from my finger. It lands on the grass. Blood continues to spill. I hear my son screaming. I let out a smile. I redirect the attention now on me.

Then another sound of thunder.

A couple of years later….

He drove himself here. He brought an umbrella as a precaution, just in case if rain was in the forecast. The weatherman on the radio predicted a slight chance of rain before the end of the afternoon. Those odds were slim. He heard it from the sound of the man's raspy voice of his uncertainty. As he got older, the young man learned to never fully rely on the words of man. Because words can falter as much as items. Words can break just as promises. Promises that consisted of words that were manipulated, misconstrued, and contorted to man's choosing. Using that noun didn't just rely on one gender. It affected nearly anyone that threatened his trust.

"You have conquered, and I yield. Yet henceforward art thou also dead, dead to the world, to heaven, and to hope!"

"In me didst thou exist, and in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou hast murdered thyself."

Edgar Allan Poe wasn't his author of choice, but he completely understood the transgressions that were occurring in his darkened mind. What storm brew within as the author sat in his chair, creating such strong imagery to spit out what he had written for many generations to come and seek after his demise. What wisdom was he relaying? Was he releasing wisdom? Was it a form of self-mockery? No one can tell unless someone was standing in the room with him. Even then, can one predict and detail his thoughts? He believed that Christ had to give the man a second take before considering his life choices.

The owner of this overthinking mind belonged to a boy called Izuku Midoriya. No, nothing was significant about his name. Although honest, the teenager had faults. Nothing that stuck out or can be found in any permanent records or criminal case files. He was just an ordinary teen. And that was something he wanted to be.

He tapped his pen repeatedly on the notepad. A habit when he was thinking. The chew marks on his pen explained that he thinks a lot. Just like Poe, the older he became, the silent he became. He allowed his surroundings to do the communication. He watched, observed. Seeing what language can the body relieve through movement. He had found it better for words can falter as much as items. Words can break just as promises. Promises that consisted of words that were manipulated, misconstrued, and contorted to man's choosing.

At some point, he knew he had to order something. He flagged his usual waitress to see him. The women displayed her frail hands. Judging by her quivering, she had seen better days. Izuku asked quietly for his hot chocolate and a pack of cigarettes. The waitress didn't even write it for it was the same thing he ordered whenever he came. He retrieved back to his domicile he called his thoughts. His mind still thinking on the next move. He looked at the notebook. It looked new as if he had recently purchased it. Green and college-ruled.

Green was his favorite color. It was in his last name. The lining of paper was just to fill whatever thoughts consumed his mind. He remembered one afternoon as he sat back with his classmate, Reiko, on the school roof that she thought that opening up can release tension. Even the little goth that had that kind of concept, the emerald-haired child thought.

He appreciated it, but he kept it confined where it belonged. For as long he doesn't produce any words, then nothing can falter.

He turned to the window. He kept his guard up. He had a reason. That was why he had chosen the certain spot at the end of the diner so he could watch everything and everyone. He knew at some point, the rift was going to be set. Timing was of the essence and there was no time to be wasted.

Residing in his thoughts, residing within his synapses are things he had witnessed and done that were beyond obscene. Things that if he had spoken, then consequences were going to happen. He gripped his teeth tightly around his chewed pen. The sound of its cracking brought him back to the real world.

The real world in which he was planning to leave.

Suicide wasn't an option. There wasn't any way he would give anybody that satisfaction. Izuku may have been a lot of things. In this particular juncture: cowardice, fearful, timid, remorseful. But, he wasn't a quitter on life. He refused to allow anyone that much control and return it to the crushing hands of the devil.

He had a self-deprecating smirk. The idea of taking away my life from the person who had to give me life. Even if that person who has given me life is making me get away from them.

The clock on his cell phone displayed itself to be a few minutes after eleven in the morning. At some point, the school was going to report him absent from school. His mother was at home. Judging with precision, he had only about twenty minutes before he had to leave this diner.

If he wasn't gone within those twenty minutes, his mother would be looking for him.

Time was of the essence.

The waitress returned with his hot chocolate and his pack of cigarettes. Marlboros, unfiltered, his favorite. He silently thanked her and at the same time, asked for a check. He slipped a few singles on the table and stepped out of the booth.

He wasn't heading for the front door. That would have been to easy for him to spot. He made his way around the counter, pushing the doors into the kitchen. The staff, the cooks, they didn't pay Izuku no mind. It was as if Izuku was part of the decor or part of the staff, or he was nothing to them at all.

He made his way out of the kitchen and stepped into the back. It was a loading dock. He knew that today was Monday. Monday was the day when the bakery came and delivered fresh baked goods to the place. He jumped from the loading dock. Still in his hands was the notebook.

He pulled the cigarette from the pack and retrieved it in his pocket. He straightened out his pocket, cautious to not lose the silver ring that once belonged to his father. He covered his hand, lighting the cigarette with his lighter. The lighter was a metal skull. He got it from a thrift store a few days ago. He put the lighter in his back pocket. He inhaled his cancer stick, allowing the fumes to seep into his lungs. It didn't matter for it wasn't words. Smoking spoke the truth without saying it, it showed. He looked to the grey, dull sky. He forgot his umbrella. He didn't feel like it going to get it and he was okay with that.

Things come and go like promises, love, betrayal, and trust.

The sound of a van alerted his attention. An old-fashioned windowless model. The scratches, the chipped paint of whatever business had it before last showed it had better days. The van drove past Izuku, stopping in front of the dumpster behind him. He remained still. The van turned off its engine. Then, the blinkers came on. It made three distinctive blinks. He tossed the cigarette to the pavement, rubbing it with his sole and walked to the van.

He opened his heavy doors, entering the vehicle and closing it heavily. He kept his attention to the dumpster. He didn't look forward. That was one of the requirements of the owner of the van. Izuku took sharp breaths. He didn't display fear. He was cautious. Everything was crucial and timing was certainly a factor.

"What is the word on the subject at hand," questioned the driver. He had a raspy voice. He was a smoker. Izuku heard him tapping hard on the steering wheel. He knew he wanted a cigarette, but wasn't to give it to him until the job was finished.

"She should be here in a matter of minutes," answered Izuku. "Knowing for her, she comes when I am not there."

"No problem," answered the driver. "Are there other details I need to know?" Izuku heard him scratching under his chin. "Something that sticks out. Specifics, you know."

"Nothing," said Izuku. "She has green hair. Short and slim. She carries the persona of being a mother, or at least she did once." Izuku coughed a few times. He knew he was in the mood for another smoke. He pulled the notebook and put it in the center of the console. "Inside the notebook is a set of instructions. It is important that you fulfill these instructions per my request."

"What is it," asked the driver.

"I rather not discuss for it worse comes to worst, but everything you need is within that notebook," answered Izuku. He sighed. "I want it to be somewhat merciful, a merciful a pittance can be. She will be home alone. I left something for you at the table. No one is going to mess with it. It should aid you on the task at hand." He scratched his arm. "Upon seeing her at the diner, this should be your cue to head to the home. As I mentioned previously, she doesn't live far. You should already have her address."

"Ok," said the driver. "Any way of releasing the subject."

"Do what you have to do," explained Izuku. "The main task is what you do following your objective." He patted the notebook. "That notebook is my main objective. There are things that I want my people to see."

"You are sure that they won't flip?"

Izuku smiled. "There is nothing on it but words. Words can be faltered, misconstrued, or contorted. It can be fictitious, or true. Just depends on the person who is looking at it."

The driver let out a haughty laugh. "You are an interesting man, you know that."

He was unmoved. "Nothing extraordinary like me. Just fulfilling a job that a person I knew left unfinished." He reached into his pocket. It was a small manilla envelope. Izuku didn't display eye contact. He put it in the center console. "The keys are in the car. In the notebook are instructions on what to do with it."

"Ok," said the driver.

"I have a friend waiting for me around the corner. We will be at our destination within an hour or so," said Izuku. "Call me when the job is done."

"No problem," said the driver.

"Thanks," answered Izuku. He stepped out of the van and closed the door. He reached into his pocket to retrieve the packs of cigarettes. He tossed it through the window. "As a bonus."

Izuku began walking away from the scene. It didn't matter that the driver exited his vehicle and tossed the keys to another man leaving the loading dock. It didn't matter that the driver was speaking with the other man about the plans. Izuku kept walking until he saw his contact close by. Everything had to deal with timing. Any deviation of those promises led to failure. Just as the weatherman predicted rain in the forecast, he has yet seen one drop fall from the heavens.

But, rain was in the forecast. However, it doesn't necessarily have to come from the sky. Things can get wet, things can get hit, and as always, the rain followed by the sound of thunder.

To be continued….

Chapter Text

Hey, guys. This story was originally going to be released on "My Hero Izuku (And No One Else's)." However, I didn't really care for the story as I felt it wasn't yandere-ish and the humor might be in bad taste. I am going to release it here and see what you guys think. Enjoy!

Izuku and his family were at his grandparent's cottage on the outskirts of Fukuoka for the weekend. The cottage was perched on the plain of an open field filled with apple trees. The deprivation of the cottage was very poor that it was amazing that it was still standing. Despite the arguments his father gave his grandfather about rebuilding the cottage, he refused. It was the cottage that his grandfather built with his hands. By destroying the cottage, he will be destroying the legacy.

"Dad, the house is falling apart."

"Hisashi, if you think my bare bone ass is going to rebuild this house? I think that's sickening. You're sick."

"Dad, I am not trying to be sickening. I want you to know that we care about your well-being."

"Don't worry about my well-being, son. When your mother kicks, I am moving to Vegas."

"Oh, Dad. You are being silly."

"Says who?"

Izuku was honestly not paying attention what they were explaining, but he loved how warm and welcoming it was. The evidence of life from the cottage was the ribbon of smoke that came from the chimney; the sounds the chimes made with the wind; and the sound of moving water from the neighboring brook. The materials that were built for the cottage, wood, and stone, were allegedly given to them by westerners who visited the area. They developed a relationship that they traded with one another, and thus the family cottage was born.

While his grandfather served as the elder of the village, his grandmother served the role of running the apple orchard. The apples were a huge contribution to the community and the surrounding areas of the prefecture. His grandmother spent years building the family orchard so that it can be handed down to his parents or to him and his cousin, Izumi after they leave this earth. Like his parents, his grandparents were closely knitted to them as well.

He loved how warm and welcoming her hug was as they embraced. She smelled of apples. He imagined that grandmother must bathe in apples. He chuckled and at the same time, became ill of that thought.

"Your grandfather is out again," his grandmother told Izuku and the family as they stepped out of the vehicle. "Either at the village square or at the bar getting his fill of rice wine and playing darts." Or feeling up that damn blonde foreigner girl. When that bastard kicks, I moving to Nigeria. Receive some real loving when I get there.

"I am so glad that you have returned dears," said his grandmother. Her wrinkled hands told a tale of her hard work as a farmer, a wife, and a mother. She kept her hands on his face. "Izuku, you are getting so big. You are getting taller and taller every day." Her smile spread wide and her eyes glistened with joy. "Wonder how you are with your girth?"

He blushed. "Grandma, that's personal."

"Says who?"

Izuku knew that she anticipated their arrival every summer. Although they lived a few hours away, his parents' schedule did not allow them to visit their grandparents. His grandfather didn't drive and his grandmother didn't believe in riding in vehicles. The summertime was the only time in which Izuku could see them. Truthfully, the emerald-haired child anticipated the arrival more than anybody.

"Easy mom," said his mother, "Don't forget that he is getting ready to become a man soon." She winked at Izuku and then at his grandmother. But before he could manage to get a word out, his cousin Izumi jolted from his mother and gave her grandmother a hug.

"Izumi, you know I always happy to see you, dear."

"'Grandma, grandma!" Izumi kept saying with excitement as she clung to her like bee onto a flower.

"Oh, sweetheart," said their grandmother. She pressed her lips to her ear. "Got those jimmy hats I've sent you?"

"Yes, Grandma," replied Izumi excitedly.

"Still wanting to sleep with your cousin, Izuku," asked their grandmother.

"More than ever," replied Izumi. "He is quite a fighter."

Their grandmother kissed her forehead. "Don't give up, dear. I have some herbal medicine that compares to codeine. Should slip him into a nice sleep." She winked at Hisashi. "How did you think I got your father, Hisashi?"

Developing a nervous laughter, he grabbed the suitcases and headed for the cottage.

"I am glad that you have reminded me about that, Inko," said his grandmother as she returned to the subject before turning to Izuku. "It is about that time to begin the ceremony for the boys to become men."

Izuku looked in curiosity and back at his mother. "What is Grandma talking about?"

"Not now, dear. You will find out soon enough," answered his mother. "Now, come and help your father get the suitcases.'

"Yes ma'am," he said and went to get the suitcases.

As Izuku was retrieving the suitcases and heading to the cottage, his grandmother and his mother consulted each other. "Inko, don't tell me you haven't explained to him yet."

Izuku excused her niece from them as they were walking toward the orchard. Once they felt they were alone, the women conversed. "Inko, every teenager have to face this. Your father did and he is managing well. He has you...back when you at your finest."

Inko's face went flat upon hearing that. "So, I gained a few pounds. Just because you resemble Izuku's big breasted bimbo Kayama-sensei doesn't mean you are better than I. At least Izuku knows his father, Sayuri. His real father."

She shushed her daughter-in-law. "Okay, okay. Sorry." She regained her composure. "Listen, I understand if you have intimidation about this. I, myself, can volunteer my services."

Inko scoffed. "You think you are going to take Izuku's first time?"

Grandma Midoriya crossed her arms. "As you've said, I do resemble the teacher that probably gives him wet dreams at night."

"In your dreams, wench!"

"Wench?"

As the women were bickering on who was going to take Izuku's rod for a test drive, an unsuspecting visitor was lurking in the shadows.

The shadows of the family vehicle. She crawled from under the car. Like a bug, she scattered into the nearby woods. She was a short girl with light brown-colored hair styled in a bob cut that reached slightly below her shoulders. Her blunt bangs completely covered her eyes, hiding most of her face. Living off of the mushrooms she collected for the trip, she reeled in shock when being notified about Izuku's weekend trip.

She pulled out her Deku Memo. She documented anything and everything about her cinnamon roll. His sleep habits, his study routine, when he does laundry, trash pick up for his dry tissues. Nothing went untouched in the hands of Kinoko Komori.

The mushroom girl wrote in her log while she saw the interloping whores talk about her man. 3:45 PM, I have arrived at my lover's grandparents' place. A beautiful scenery. However, I don't see my beloved. Yet again, I do spy a lot of infestation of bitches around here. I might need to concoct a herbal supplement and call it "Bitch-B-Gone" spray. She laughed to herself as she made hissing noises in a form of a spray.

Didn't prepare as he didn't know that all of these women had insatiable appetites, she had to be resourceful. Then, like a spark to gasoline, she developed a plan. She went onto her cell phone. "Ok, Google. Tell me about Japanese mythological legends in this forest."

Sometime later….

Izuku wondered what were his grandmother and his mother talking about. Ceremony. Becoming a man? He didn't pay it any mind as he and his cousin went out into the fields to play. One of the biggest highlights of going to his grandparents were to pay in the apple fields. He and Izumi created plenty of pleasant memories in their home away from home. Memories that he wouldn't repeat to a stranger as if more pleasant for Izumi than it was for Izuku.

This time was no different as they played a game of hide-and-go-seek. Izuku, admittedly, was not the best at that game for Izumi always tended to find him. What was worst was the penalty. Her penalties were the same: a kiss with her big cousin (along with some tongue and feeling up). Izuku admitted that she is getting better, which was fearful to him.

"Where are you, Aniki," said Izumi with a grin. She scanned the orchard in search of her cousin but to no avail. "C'mon, Aniki. Come out here and take your kiss. It won't hurt. It is just lots and lots of loving from your dear little sister. Just a little kiss and maybe a little tongue. I promise it won't thrust much."

However, Izuku had an ace up his sleeve. Before venturing off in the trees, he saw a small brush that was beside the brook. His grandfather was using it to prepare a bond fire for the upcoming village gathering. While she was scanning through the orchard, he lied in wait behind the brush until the game was over.

He snickered at his master plan. Although he felt bad for his cousin. He did not like hurting her feelings. But if it would avoid her wet sloppy kisses, then the sacrifice he must take. As he sat against the brush, he felt the summer's heat bearing down on him. It reminded him of the times when he had to carry gym equipment in the hot shed of his school. Instead of being in the confinements of a four-walled shack, he was in the opening.

Seeking for a cooler spot, he left the brush and headed for the brook. He carefully made his way to the brook without getting Izumi's attention. He tiptoed without making a noise. She had a keen sense of hearing. Any rustling would have gotten her attention. As soon as he touched the brook, the water moved softly around his outstretched fingers, caressing cooly, eddying in its wake. He pulled his hand out and watched the water drop infrequently. The cool water, aided by the wind, made Izuku feel better. He then rested on the grass and took his shoes off. He soothed his feet in the brook until he was ready to return to the orchard. He knew it would be a matter of time before Izumi became worried and goes to his mother.

From across the brook, he heard a sound coming from the woods. He looked at the forest. It was nothing there. He thought it was maybe a cicada or a bird hitting the branches. However, he heard a sound, but only louder. It sounded like something was hitting the branch. He looked again, but it was nothing. Getting a little afraid, he stood from the brook and began to return to the orchard until he heard a voice.

"Hello. Hello."

The voice went silent just like the woods in front of him. According to his grandfather, the woods have been abandoned for many years. No presence of life was to be seen or heard from that forest. He feared that it might be a youkai that his grandfather told him.

"Hello. Hello." The voice sounded like a child. It was a female voice. It was very calm. It made Izuku think that maybe it was a lost child or something.

"Hello. Hello."

"Hello," said Izuku, this time responding. The wind slowly picked up speed and the branches were loudly shaking. It sent shivers down his spine.

"Hello. Hello."

"I am here," said Izuku with a hint of fear. "Where are you?"

"I am right behind you."

To be continued….

Wow! Izuku's family are very superstitious. Never it matters. I need to set my claim before that those damn cows set their udders on my precious Izuku! He is mine, damn it! MINE!

Chapter Text

A new story that I am experimenting with.  Read as Izuku Midoriya serves as a pawn in the game of cat and mouse as he is abducted on his way home. With the help of Himiko Toga's sidekick, Dabi, Himiko ensures to never give up Izuku. Even if it means to kill him, but she won't let that happen as she will do whatever it takes to make him hers.  Only time will tell if Izuku will escape the confines of her prison. Or will he forever be imprisoned to her? Follow the suspense, the drama, and the bittersweet romance of this story as Izuku battles with Himiko, Dabi, the League of Villians and overall, himself. {AU} {Genderbend League of Villians}


Izuku looked up to the sky where he saw his captor looking into his wallet. Izuku strained, but he was still feeling the pain from his back. Izuku tried to track the events leading to this moment.

He was walking home from the arcade. He noticed a four-door sedan trailing him. He thought that he could go to the gangway as a shortcut. As he approached, the captor got out of the car and held him at knifepoint. As the captor walked with Izuku in the gangway, the captor hit him with a lead pipe, causing him to hit the ground. The captor tied his hands with duct tape. The captor even used duct tape around his feet. The captor reached for Izuku's pocket and got his wallet. He also took his cell phone.

The captor looked at his school ID before putting it into its back pocket. He went through the wallet to see if it can find something. The captor also took a debit card, social security card, and a picture of his family.

He couldn't tell whether the captor was male or female. The captor was wearing an all-black jumpsuit. The hoodie hid its hair, the sunglasses covered its eyes, and the gauze covered its mouth. The captor took heavy steps as it approached Izuku. It put the lead pipe aside before reaching for a pocketknife. The emerald-haired teen's eyes widened by this. He was becoming fearful

"Twenty dollars," said the captor as it scoffed into the ground. "I thought kids like you would have more money than this. Thought kids from that school would have more money than that."

The voice was deep but still, couldn't determine it was male or female.

"I am broke," answered Izuku. "I don't have those kinds of funds. I am only there on scholarship." He tried to find something so that he make its captor go away. "You can take the money. I don't need it."

"Aren't you sweet," answered the captor with the tone of sarcasm. "But, I don't really care about the money. To be honest, it is more of a thrill to me."

"A thrill," retorted Izuku.

"A thrill," confirmed the captor. The captor leaned over him before kneeling next to him. He pulled the knife and gently placed it around his throat. "I wonder whether I should cut your throat or should I stab you?" The captor slid the knife to his chest. "Maybe stabbing you here or cutting you up into tiny pieces?"

Izuku shook his head in declination. "Please don't hurt me."

The captor smirked as it continued swaying its knife around Izuku's neck. "Maybe I should kill you. I don't need to have witnesses anyway."

"How should I know what you did," replied Izuku. "You don't have nothing to show me on who you are."

The captor smirked. "You're right, but you saw my car. I mean you made it easier as you kept staring at it time after time. I won't be surprised if you saw my tags. And that is enough to kill you."

Izuku's face was flushed. His body became tensed. He was trying his hardest to keep his composure until the captive put the knife to his cheek. Feeling the edge of the knife against his sunken cheek made whimpering.

The captor wrapped its hand around him, promoting silence. "Shh! Shh! Take it easy. Don't make it harder than it needs to be. You can call me the Collector." The captor continued sliding the knife down to Izuku's thigh. "Maybe if I cut the dark meat. Would that be okay with you?" The captor returned the knife to his wrist. "Maybe a wing? I can't compare the anatomy of a chicken to a human, but they can sure bleed."

Izuku's eyes widened when the captor slid the knife around his butt. The captor slid it up and down his butt, making him turn red. "I never pop a guy's cherry before." It chuckled. "With a knife, at least." He began jerking and moving around to avoid the knife contact. Then the captor slapped him in the face.

"Stop the damn moving," the captor demanded. "Or else, I am really going to cut you."

Izuku started feeling a warm sensation around his crotch. Tears began flowing down his cheeks when he had realized he had urinated on himself. It didn't go unnoticed from his captor.

"Oh my God," the captor chuckled. "You had pissed yourself. You call yourself a man?"

He remained silent, still sniffling from the embarrassment. The captor shook its head before looking around the gangway.

"Since you want to be a little girl, I know what I am gonna do," the captor said while snickering.

The captor grabbed a bandana from its pocket with a small bottle. The captor poured the substance over the bandana before returning it to its pocket. "You are going to feel quite dizzy," the captor said as it put the bandana over Izuku's nose. Izuku screamed while muffling over the bandana. He kicked and tried to struggle before passing out on the concrete.

The captor dragged Izuku's body to the car. The captor placed him in the back seat. The captor covered him in blankets so that he won't be identified. The captor returned to the car and drove away from the gangway.


A splash of water hit him. The coolness entered his pores. He opened his eyes to check his surroundings, but he still saw darkness.

"Hello?" he said aloud.

No answer.

"Hello?" he said aloud again.

Still, there wasn't an answer.

He tried to move, but something was obstructing his hands. He was still unable to move.

"I can see that you are awake. Yummy!"

Izuku heard a voice, however, it was not the same as the captor. The voice sounds more feminine. More of a woman.

Izuku felt someone kicking him. He returned to the floor.

"I can see that you are now awake. Yummy!"

"Who are you?" asked Izuku. He wanted answers. Where am I? Why is it warm? Am I still on the train? Am I somewhere being held captive? At a lair? At a restroom? Just answers?

"It doesn't matter on who I am, but what I am going to do to you."

For some reason, he felt a chill through his spine. It wasn't the words, but how she said it. It displayed such positivity of absoluteness. She gave him a sentence and finished it with a period. He tried his hardest to move his legs since his hands couldn't suffice. Even that wasn't working as well.

"I take it easy if I were you," said his captor. "The more you struggle, the more you become tired out." He heard footsteps coming near him. "And I like a fighter when they try to resist me. So, don't get too tired. Okay?" The latter was returned with a chuckle. Izuku could hear her walking away. He tried to scream.

"Who are you? Who are you, damn it? Where am I?"

"Once again, darling. It doesn't matter on who I am, but what I am going to do to you."

Then, he felt a hand around his hip. She had unfastened his belt. He struggled as he felt the coolness of his thighs from the removal of his pants.

"Phase one is finished," said the captor.

He could hear her put something on. It had the sound of a glove or something. "This part may hurt. So clench your teeth."

She pulled down his boxers. His heart began to pant. What is she doing? What is she doing? What is she doing? WHAT IS SHE DOING?

He felt a finger grabbing his ass. He flinched.

"Why do you flinch when I touch you? Hold still," she told him. "Or I can get some real assistance. Okay?"

"No, please. Don't do this? I don't go like that?"

She chuckled. "Not in the position to call the shots, Izuku dude. Just think of it as learning some perspective after this."

He felt a finger enter his ass. She thrust quickly without warning. Izuku yelped from her anal introduction.

"That is one," she proudly stated. "I wonder if you can take two fingers."

He felt the second one enter his ass. He was straining. He was kicking, trying his hardest to move. Izuku felt a slap.

"Sit the hell still, Jesus." She told him sternly. "I have not got started yet on what I am planning to do."

She put her third finger in his ass. He screamed in the agony of knowing she thrust in and out of his ass.

"Oh, yes," she cried. "I want it wet and extra gushy. Does it feel good, Izuku dude? Kimochi? Kimochi?"

He felt her breast against his back as she continued using his ass for her pleasure. At the same time, he began to feel a stirring from his penis. The more she thrust, the more it gets harder. He could tell that she was looking because her pace was slowing down.

"Is that an extra tail or you are just happy to see me," she asked him.

Izuku remained silent. He didn't want to entertain her any further. It was not until he felt her cold, gloved hands on his dick.

"You like me. You really like me," she continued saying while she double teamed his dick and his ass.

"Stop," he said with pleas. "I will do anything. Please stop. Please stop!"

"Yes," she said. "Continue to fill the room with your cries. Cum for me! Cum for me!"

She continued thrusting his ass and stroking his dick. By that time, the pain succeeded and it, unfortunately, became pleasurable. He didn't know whether it was natural instinct or following suit, he began to buck.

"Oh yes, Izuku," she said. "Fuck my hand pussy. Get it nice and wet for me."

He didn't say a word. He just wanted to get this over with.

"I kind of wondering on how you are going to come. With my hand." She paused. He felt a wet, warm texture leaking on his ass. "Or. In. Your…." She made a huge thrust. "Ass?"

He felt his toes curling. He was twitching. He could feel his dick releasing all of its contents into her hand.

"That's it," she said. "Release your milk. Let it out for me. Let it out. Pain, pain, fly away. Pain, pain, fly away."

When his climax subsided, his penis returned back to normal. Never in his mind was he displaying such guilt. He knew he was being held hostage, kidnapped, but he got off to a person that wasn't he had never met. With his silence and his pants, he knew that captor knew what he was thinking.

"Didn't it feel good, Izuku," asked his captor.

He remained silent until he felt her hand entering his mouth. He was tasting foreign contents that were salty. Knowing immediately that it could have been his semen or fecal matter, he tried to spit it out. However, she closed his mouth. Izuku muffled in the possess.

"No, no, no," she scoffed. "This is your milk, your product. You must know how it tastes before receiving it to the world."

She grabbed his throat. "Now chew, chew, swallow."

He refused. She gripped harder. "Swallow."

Knowing she had a firm grip on his throat, Izuku followed her instructions and swallowed his contents.

She clapped. "Good boy, good boy." She patted his forehead before she walked away from him.

"Dabi, is he ready?"

Izuku raised his eyebrow. There was another person in the room. However, he was quite familiar with the second voice. His stomach began to churn.

"Yes, he is, boss," the captor told the other person. "Yes, he is, yes he is."

"Good, I was quite worried about your impending failures," said the other woman. "But it seems as though you have followed very well."

She walked toward his directions. The pressure of her boots on his ass. "Is he ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied the captor with much excitement in her voice. "Ready for your actions, ma'am."

"Good," said the other woman. "Get the device."

He heard the footsteps of the captor walking away, but he could now feel the presence of the other woman on top of him."

"Poor Deku, Deku," said the other woman. "Did you think you could get away from me that easily?"

Izuku swallowed nothing, except for those contents, but nevertheless, he remained silent.

She laughed. "Remain quiet for the while." She squeezed his cheeks. "You will need to save your voice for me."

"Is the device ready," questioned the other woman.

The other whom he was acutely aware of who she was.

"All Might may have taught you well. UA High may have taught you something. Even that Ochako girl was quite lucky," said the other woman. "However, Himiko Toga is luckier, you little quirkless boy."

He felt something grinding against his ass. "I wonder who is better? Me, Ochako, or All Might? You be the judge." Then, she whispered in his ear.

Once you get a taste of Himiko Toga, there is no leaving. You are mine for the taking.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

To my readers and fans of 'Quirk Interrupted,' thank you for your ongoing support. I know you are wondering when the sequels of the other series are being released. The truth is, this anthology are stories that I am still working on. Ideas in which I can't find the proper place. And once it gets the proper place, then I will have better use to it. Please believe that I will plan to continue on this as soon as ideas come. And ideas can be harder than I have thought.

This particular story is a bittersweet drama. It started from a documentary my girlfriend and I watched about drug addicts. I have never seen other MHA/BNHA fanfics do this, so this is a first.

Once again, this is not bashing any of the characters. I just want to develop perspective. Not many people discuss issues like drug addiction and homelessness. It is still taboo in some areas. So, if you don't like my story, then feel free to check out the other MHA/BNHA stories. For those who like, please comment, favorite, follow.

As a reminder, I don't support, endorse, and/or condone drug use, substance abuse, or anything portrayed in this story. This is a work of fiction. Anyone who can deviate fantasy from reality, please continue to read.

Warning: this story involves the use of drugs, substance abuse, and among other things with our characters. Discretion is STRONGLY advised! "I write what's in my heart. Could no longer if you are no longer rocking with it."

His crystal green eyes marked the shape of the poster on the wall of the bathroom stall. He had recognized it, or at least his brain recognized it. Like something of a trigger. A snap that can remind someone of a not too distant past. He overlooked the scrawlings of graffiti. He passed the inklings of good time phone numbers, mushroom towers, and racial epithets. He saw through that. It took him back a few years. Back when his days as a young sun god. His mother called him her little emerald boy. She often called him Icchan for short. No one but his mother would call him by that nickname. It was a title, better yet a birthright. Anyone who called him Icchan was ignored or overlooked. The name was permitted by his mother and only his mother.

Being a single parent wasn't easy for her. She worked two jobs to make ends meet for the young emerald child. Days as an office worker and evening waitress at the snack bar were overwhelming. In the morning, she was suitable. Her dress uniform, neat and pressed. As early as ten years old, Izuku was accustomed to iron his mother's uniform. He practiced one afternoon after getting into a small scuffle at the local dry cleaner. The owner of the store kept the young boy close. That one day there gave him the skills of being part of the chore wheel to keep the house functioning. Back to his mother, she was neat and pressed for the day. Izuku always double checked if his mother passed the test to look professional. With his two thumbs in the air, she passed. She bid him farewell with a peck on the cheek and was off for the day.

Izuku attended school as much as possible. School wasn't an important thing to him. Even if he did attend, he was the subject of ridicule and harassment from his classmates. He was met with sneering, jeering, and of course, verbal and physical assaults. Not a day went by when he was met with altercations from a classmate. Like the situation with his mother, he looked at it as a business. His mother gave him a philosophy that stuck to him like glue. "In order to get through, we have to go through. Heaven isn't heaven unless we have gone to hell."

He lived by that code as if he had stolen her advice and took it as his own. He overlooked the bullying from his classmates. It didn't matter that he wore the same two pair of corduroy jeans. He didn't care that he only had a few shirts in his closet. He overlooked that his shoes were either from the grocery store or at a discount store. The biggest obstacle was overlooking that he was an only child in a single parent household.

Where's your father? Did your father abandon you? You are a bastard, you are a bastard! I hear that your mother is a whore. Your whore mother works at a drink bar. Are you a future whore, Midoriya?

Those remarks alone were returned with a blind fury of a fist. So, there were some things he couldn't overlook. The one landmine that anybody doesn't want to step on was on talking about his mother. No man or beast or even the gods were going to disrespect his mother.

When school was finished, the young emerald boy tended to his afternoon duties according to school rules. He was expedient and organized as possible so he was able to return home at a decent time. His neighborhood wasn't the safest in the city. The way back wasn't as safe. He learned to take routes to avoid the bully, the shysters, the hustlers, the pimps, the prostitutes, and the like. His mother always told him to be careful. So much so, she invested in giving him a knife and a can of pepper spray.

I rather see you be judged by twelve than being carried by six.

He hid the items in a small tote bag behind the dumpster at his school. When his duties were finished, he hurriedly went to his spot to retrieve his stash. He knew the Student Council members wouldn't check anything off-campus. And without fail, everything was safe. With his weapons in place, he took the twenty-minute journey from his school to his residence. He kept a silent prayer as he passed through the very people that detriment, corrupted, and polluted the very neighborhood that they themselves were raised. Poisoning their own people made Izuku sick to his young, brittle bones. He spoke that figuratively for he had dreams of one day leaving this place.

As instructed, the young emerald boy returned home. He locked the doors with the two locks that his mother had installed. He went and turned on the television. His mother told him to look at one hour of television programming before doing homework. Once homework was finished, leave it on the table for her to inspect. He had to eat dinner. He had to read a book, take a shower, and then retreat to bed. His mother tended to be home around an hour or two after he had gone to sleep.

His mother never returned home for her second job. She usually carried her outfit in her tote bag or kept it in her locker at the snack bar. Izuku didn't want to hear the tormented tales that his classmates heard from their fathers that frequented that snack bar.

No, his mother wasn't a streetwalker, prostitute, or any demeaning word one says to a woman.

She did drink, she did flirt, and occasionally, she did serve her clients on some "outcall" work. Those were the nights when she phoned the owner of the dry cleaner and asked if she could watch her son overnight. Before the sun would rise, she was there to pick up her son. Nevertheless, it was something the young emerald child didn't like.

When all things were completed for the day, he put on the only pair of pajamas that he owned and he went to bed. Before he nestled within his thin quilts, he got on his knees and said a prayer.

Now I lay me, down to sleep

I pray to my gods, my soul to keep

If I should die before I wake

I pray to my gods, my soul to take

Bless my mother, bless myself! Amen

That sing-song was very meaningful for his mother had planted into his brain when he was a tiny child. Izuku swelled with tears as he was alone in his bedroom. The sounds of arguing from his neighbors; babies wailing; a drug deal going on; and inevitably, the sounds of screams as someone has been stabbed. He covered his ears with his pillow and recited that prayer until he fell asleep.

Every now, the door would open. The thin light brightened his eyelids. He couldn't see, but he could smell the brewery that entered the room. His mother, drenched in cologne of many strangers, staggering to her only son to give him a goodnight kiss. He felt her warm, tender lips on his forehead. He didn't care if she reeked of cigarettes. He just knew that his mother was home and that kiss only made his dreams sweeter.

He turned the poster away from his sight as if it was hazardous to his health. He didn't want any reminders of his past. All things were past away as he sat on the toilet stall. He reached into his pocket to retrieve something he had never thought in a million years he would do. Back during the days of After School specials and Saturday mini-series on the issues of teenagers. He used to laugh at those characters. During those Saturday afternoons when he started junior high. He could still imagine the bowl of katsudon on his lap and a bottle of soda next to his thigh. He flipped the channels rapidly to watch those specials. Around that time, he wasn't alone. When his mother worked the weekends at the snack bar, he had a friend that came and visit.

A friend who he kept close to this very day. A friend who adored him from the far since he was a young boy. A friend that would go to the ends of the Earth for him. If he went to hell, that friend would go with him. Through the wire and back was how much dedicated his friend was.

That very thing that is killing Izuku within is killing his friend as well. It didn't matter for her for she would do anything to keep Izuku close. These two have a history and she didn't want to lose him. Even if meant joining the emerald child.

She, too, has a past of her own.

And that is something to be shared in another time.

Izuku licked his lips as he pulled bottled water from his backpack. He opened his mouth to parched his dry throat. The sensation of the water soothed him. He emptied the bottle until he felt the same way the bottle was going to be: empty.

He kept the cap, placing the bottle on the floor. He had to scan his surroundings. He didn't want to attract any attention that could put him in the worst predicament.

He still kept his weapons but didn't want it to be necessary. The last thing he wanted to see was the flashing badge of an undercover or a cop or any law enforcement period.

He retrieved his lighter. He put it on his lap. He had to think where did he put his latest stash he just bought earlier on the way to the restroom. He realized that he put it in his sock drawer. No longer did the now older emerald teen kept anything that required any searching in his pockets. It was too risky. He wasn't going to risk any jail time, especially if what he was doing was going to be on his record. He thought of his mother, of her philosophies. What was she thinking right now if she learned that her little Icchan was doing things that contradict the things that she taught him?

He blinded himself of that thought. Not wanting the fear of the emerald-haired woman entering the restroom stall and stepping inside to see that her son was doing things she taught him not to do. Would she weep? Would she snatch it away? Would she hit him?

Honestly, he wished that it would happen.

She wasn't there. It was just him, free to do his act.

The small wrapped cookie sheet contained the brown powder that reminded him of tar. He made him think back when he was in cooking class and his teacher handed him a small patch of brown powder that was cinnamon. He used to make the sweetest treats that he always prepared for his mother whenever he came home.

Well, this concoction was not cinnamon. It wasn't a chief ingredient for his precious treats for his mother. However, this concoction is an ingredient that gives him such a rush that the emerald teen may feel invincible.

But just for a minute, just for a minute. Subjective to the moment where he couldn't be anything. Relishing in the sea of regret. Negate any of the hopes and dreams that his mother put herself through so that Izuku can have a decent way of living that she didn't.

Now, he was in the very thing that he was amongst those who knew of his demise. Just another crab in the bucket. No matter how much he wanted to climb, he would get pulled down.

He poured the powder into the cap. He used the leftover water to dilute it, making it a mix. With the needle, he stirred the concoction until it was liquefied. He used the lighter to heat the substance, making sure it is at his right temperature, its boiling point in which the needle can take it.

He went into his backpack and got his phone charger. He didn't have time to go to the store to purchase any latex gloves or tourniquets, but the charger would suffice. He was going to need it later when he needed his phone to boost. Phone calls were among him. Who was going to call?

It didn't matter at this time. Izuku needed his fix. The brown powder was now liquid. He inserted the needle and injected the contents to the very needle that was familiar with such substance. It was routine for everyone and everything. The liquid was in the needle. He placed down the cap, securing it tightly on the bottle. In his many years of doing this. He paused, lamenting on that very word, years. Not months, days, weeks, years.

He secured it tightly so he wouldn't leave evidence. Drugs were frowned upon in the city. Drugs were coming into the city. It's one thing of the presence. It's worse when one gets caught. It was shameful regardless of which one, but the latter was worst. The city newspaper didn't have any problem posting, better yet, bombard the citizens of their latest drug arrest and bust. Using the picture, detailing the charges. They dig into one's background and use their life against them.

He was grateful to have never been caught. But he knew there was too many time grace can spare him.

His upper arms were his place of choice. He never liked using areas where it can be exposed for people to see. He wrapped the charger around his arm. Using his teeth, he secured the arm tightly so a vein could be found. He made taps, making his veins become alive. Like clockwork, the veins were ready to expose itself to another batch of that brown powder it became accustomed to. Of course, there were other veins that struggled, thirsting, yearning, and craving for that brown substance. And there were veins that just simply had enough.

Once he found a suitable vein, he held on to his charger with his teeth. With his free hand, he winced as the needle enter his vein. He let out a small yelp as he wasn't used to the pain each time he felt the needle enter his arm. Although familiar, it doesn't mean he was used to it. He allowed the needle to empty all of the contents inside of his arm.

It was done.

He released the charger. He sat back against the wall. In a moment, any of his worries were fading away. His past didn't matter. His present, his future didn't matter. The possible line that could be waiting for him to leave didn't matter. Having the last name of Midoriya didn't matter. That brown substance reminded him to alleviate any pain of real life.

He felt good, that mellow feeling. He was riding the clouds that would ascend him to the heavens. Damned the going-through process of hell where he had a shortcut that could take him there.

When he was done, he prepared for the cleanup. He put his water bottle back into his backpack. He returned his charger as well. He stood up to get on his knees. He put the needle into the toilet water. He was short of money on purchasing more needles, so he cleaned it out with the water. He did it a few times before returning the needle in his backpack. He tossed the small cookie sheet in the toilet and flushed.

He exited the stall. He went to the mirror where he checked himself. That was the norm these days. That torment, that disgusted look he gave himself. That one final look of how his life was turning. It made him looked back when he had his one and only visit with his father when he was eleven years old.

The police were coming. He had hit his mother again. She was wailing as she called for Izuku. His father took his time leaving the residence. Izuku was sitting on the front porch. His father paused, staring at his progeny, the very seed he produced. His father spat on the ground, dusted himself off, and kneeled before the young emerald boy.

This world isn't going to give you anything. So why bother. You are like me, a dreamer. And you see where it got me. Do yourself a favor and just give up anything you want to do in life. Because it will spit in your face. My final words: expect the worse. That way you will be pleasantly surprised.

Upon hearing those frightening, prophetic words, he, too, faced the wrath of his father.

Izuku still wore the scar that his father gave him those many years ago. Those scars were added among other things in his life.

He spat on the mirror, no longer did he want to see the man he was currently was in this particular juncture. He stepped out of the bathroom and returned to reality.

He excused himself from an elderly woman. It looked as though she was bagging some rutabagas. It gave him such a hunger to his empty stomach. He had already spent the last of his funds on his brown concoction. He just hoped that his friend was able to get some coins.

He shook his head. He knew she wasn't just a friend. They were more than friends. He used the term because he guiltily involved her as well. She admired, better yet, adored him. He remembered the day when she discovered that he was using drugs. He went into shock when she took the needle from his hand and inserted it to her own veins. He was angry, questioning why would she do such a thing. She put her finger to his lips, releasing such a haughty smile.

My love for you extends beyond the ends of the hurt. If you bleed, I bleed. If you hate, I hate.

She finished the injection quickly as she inserted it.

If you suffer, I suffer. And if you are going to use, then I will use to. I love you, Izuku. No matter what you do.

Anybody with a conscience would have thought that moment should have been enough to end it. However, it aroused Izuku's curiosity. Ochako Uraraka was the girl-next-door. She was the daughter of a prominent businessman, with connections to strong political figures in the city. Of all the people in the city of Musutafu, why Izuku Midoriya? Why him? He was the common street urchin. He was born as it were on the wrong side of the tracks. Her personality, let alone, her beauty can pick any desirable being in this city, in this country, in this world.

So, why did she throw it all away for him?

To this very day, it rattles his mind like the high he was currently in. He suddenly realized he was still staring at the women with the rutabagas. He bowed apologetically as he went to search for Ochako.

The woman in question was standing in line at the courtesy desk. She was fidgeting, scratching her palms frantically. If she believed in any superstition, then money was on the way. And technically, it was. It wasn't coming from any other source, but her father. Ochako gave another sob story to her father. She was struggling, she was hungry. She wanted cash to find a place to stay warm for the time being. The same ways to reach her father's heart to retrieve his wallet and give his only daughter some money. As always, she was eternally grateful. Grateful that her father somewhat cared about her. Even if she was no longer the girl next door.

Ochako had so much potential; that's what she told herself as she stood in line. She was on the route of being the heir of the Uraraka fortune.

She was next in line. She put those thoughts aside as she asked the clerk for a money order.

Izuku was feet away from her. His presence gave her a smile. As if she was a child entering a candy store. Izuku reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He waited patiently as Ochako was getting their "boost" to begin their day.

"Hey, Izuku." Her cheerful demeanor remained, always welcoming her man.

"Hey, sweetheart," answered Izuku. "Did your father approved?"

"He sure did," answered Ochako excitedly. She turned to him. "Are you coming down?"

"I am, I am," he answered while sticking his tongue out. "Plus, we need to get ready for today,"

"What's happening today," questioned Ochako as she placed in her request in the slot.

"Going to see Okaa-san today, sweetie," answered Izuku while putting the cigarette behind his ear.

She snapped her fingers. "Oh yeah. You did mention that." She returned her sights on the clerk as she received the funding from her father. Her eyes lit like a Christmas tree whenever she saw the amount of love that was given to her (rather them).

She jumped on her feet while clicking her heels together. It reminded Izuku of their high school days when she was a cheerleader. A silent beauty she was back then.

They were holding hands as they exited the grocery store. They walked down the street in search of a taxi to take them to their next destination.

"$500," she yelped as she knew she had enough money to hold them down for a couple of days. "This should manage us with our drugs and a place to stay for a minute."

"Yeah, it does! Jeeves, my bags," replied Izuku excitedly while snapping his fingers. "Because I have already texted the dope dealer and I had already phoned the crack dealer." He stopped and paused, turning to his girlfriend. "But it won't be until after I see my mother, okay?"

She smiled, displaying the yellowish glow of her dull eyes. She walked forward, pressing her body to Izuku. "Of course, sweetheart."

"After we go see okaa-san, we can get high as much as we want. Get lit, get drunk, get to fucking," said Izuku in a sing-song.

"Get a hotel room," interjected Ochako with a smirk. She glided her hands on Izuku's hips, squeezing tightly.

"Somebody's a little frisky," Izuku purred, grabbing Ochako's ass.

"Do it again," she begged.

Izuku did it once more, attracting the attention of those around them. They were met with disapproval. Despite living in modern times, their public display of affection was considered forbidden in their city. The pair grin as they returned to holding hands as they look for a taxi to go see Izuku's mother.

To be continued...I hope….