The hero academic

Izuku breathes in the cold air and leans forward. He twists his grip, pulls in the clutch and knocks it up a gear. He leans with the bike and rides the apex of the curve, wind flying by him in the dead of night. It was the witching hour. 3am is when the real fun starts. Some may think it's midnight, but the lingering blue hour and mild mannered patrons out late for a "wild night" at a bar bleed the day into the night. Once it's 3 am and the clubs have closed and the rideshare drivers have delivered everyone home, the city is quiet. The road up the mountain is even deathly so. It's so still, almost frozen. No wind means no movement. The trees stand still and the critters are asleep, the nocturnal ones too clever to be seen. No movement, well…except for Izuku. His motorcycle buzzes a wall as he tucks into a curve. He drags his brake and drops a gear, twisting over his shoulder for a sharp switchback. He hits an open straight stretch and he falls back in his seat, stretching an arm up into the self-made wind, too fast for 3am life.

He slows his speed and his engine crawls to a purr as he approaches his homemade abode. He had found an abandoned camper up here a few years back, and as far as shelter goes it does the job. Whoever left it must have not been able to tow it down the mountain—not that Izuku could either. He had to keep his base out of the way of the public anyway, so the remote location worked out. He took off his gear and entered the broken out doorway covered by a secondhand curtain. Dropping his stuff on his box-turned-table, he flopped down into his pile of pillows and blankets he called a bed. Sure, it was all obviously junk he was able to haul up the mountain, but it was his and he lived comfortably enough. Compared to some of the places he had been forced to stay, a too-cool breeze in winter and no central air in summer were the least of his worries. He even had bird feeders out front and a vegetable garden on the side to help keep down grocery costs. It was quaint. It was hidden. It was his. He kicks off his boots and thinks through how his week had been going thus far. It was Friday and his weekly wrap up was foreboding danger to come.

It started on Tuesday when Izuku found something he maybe shouldn't have. He was only a vigilante, and discovering a crime syndicates weapons armory and trafficking hub was probably above his paygrade. But, who said quick wit and heart couldn't make up for skill? Well, everyone. He had barely managed to get out of there with a list of current customers and his life. He was on the crime syndicate's hit list now. Nobody bothered with a friendly neighborhood vigilante when he took down small time crooks and rehomed homeless peoples, but attacking a large organization? He'd done so before but had never been seen. He'd been lucky, he realized. No one had seen his green hair and black bunny mask. He'd started with small guns and worked through lower ranks. He'd now found the motherload of the Musutafu crime organization, and they knew it. He now had the knowledge necessary to take down the organization, the crooked arms dealers, the bought politicians, and the scheming CEOs. He had the web written out and in his hands. And he knew about project Arnold. (Really, how on the nose was The Terminator . The character literally had a gun quirk.)

On Thursday, he had gone out to explore the main hub again. He knows it's dangerous, but he is his own parent now. No one could control the vigilante Midobunny, and no one would. When he showed up at the location, though, it had been wiped clean. That's how they were never found…They're mobile. He kicks a rock off the roof and listens to it clatter to the ground. On the final clack, he jumped to his side and narrowly missed the capture weapon thrown at him. He turns and sees pro hero Eraserhead posed on the same rooftop, hands ready for battle. Izuku slowly stood up and waited for the man to speak first. "What are you doing here, vigilante," Eraserhead called. "What do good vigilantes do?" he responded. Eraserhead had a few run-ins with him before when he was…apprehending a subject. Vigilantism is illegal and Eraserhead seems to be a hero more by the books than some of his cohorts. "I have to take you in. Vigilantism is illegal, and by your own omission you are complicit," the scruffy man explained. "I know you don't really want to. Aren't I too cute?" Izuku tries. "It's illegal," he repeats, arms lowering slightly. "...But cute?" Izuku took one last stab. "Are you serious, man? We've been over this. I'm married," Aizawa says gesturing with his hand flippantly. Izuku smiled beneath his bunny mask. He liked when he annoyed the hero. He figured it wasn't hard to do, but to make him break his stance? Maybe he really wasn't trying to hard to apprehend Izuku in the first place. "Ah, what a shame. Maybe next time?" Izuku said as he stepped back and gracefully fell off the roof. Aizawa ran to the edge to see the kid scurrying down the wall with adhesive hands (gloves, if he paid enough attention) and daggers shooting from the toe of his shoes. Aizawa sighed as the kid reached the bottom and ran off. He didn't give chase.

Izuku's third, far worse foreshadowing event, had just cost him half his shift pay. He had been sent home early from the club after an incident with a high-paying regular customer. The son of none other than Musutafu's crime syndicate's boss was in his club, and he wanted more than a dance. There was a no touching rule for customers, but it was rarely enforced for high rollers. Izuku enforced it. But, not before he dropped a pretty devastating hint. "Does little Arnold need a warm hole?" Izuku teased while palming the boy's dick. The boy quickly shut up and glared fiercely at him. What? That's what he wanted, wasn't it? Okay, Izuku was a bit of a sarcastic shit but the guy deserved it. He also deserved the rough punch to his crotch. He shouldn't have shoved Izuku's hand there if he didn't want him todo something about it. The son was quick to dump him off his lap and throw a hand around his neck, but the security was just as quick to throw him out. Izuku held himself while Tony ushered the men out of the club, angry as all get out. Threatening their organization with the knowledge he had obtained as a vigilante wasn't exactly a smart move… Yeah, now the famed green vigilante messing with their operations was inexplicably tied to Midobunny, the stripper. He was screwed. His boss sent him home early and told him to play nice or not return.

So…he screwed with a crime syndicate, Eraserhead is onto him, and he told that crime syndicate who he was and where to find him. Not looking good. There had been goons posted at his club the past two nights and his routines were crap as he worried over what he's gotten himself into. He couldn't waste the job, he needed the money. So, when the goons roughly shoved him into their laps and demanded free dances and…free private dance, well Izuku was told to play nice. He hates playing nice. Tomorrow was his last shift of the week. He'd get through it and then figure out how he could deal with this growing issue. He just needed to do one more dance. Day shifts sucked. It was never a particularly savory crowd that decided to hit up a strip club in the middle of the day during typical working hours. The respectable folks were all out earning money at some office job. (What do people do at office jobs anyway?) So, day shifts meant fewer tips from fewer people, but also more groping from more assholes. It's not a desirable time slot, but Izuku has nothing good to get up to in daylight hours anyway, so he might as well work the filler shifts.

On the other hand, when Izuku walked out on that stage at 3:40, the room was filled. There were too many customers for a Wednesday afternoon. Izuku was on edge, conscious of what the crowd could mean. He changed his routine and removed the floor work, opting to stay near the center of the stage. When the chorus came, Izuku lifted himself into a pretty pole sit. He tilted forward and threaded through his own arms to open up his view. Now, he spun and watched the patrons in front of him, not as they passed behind his back. He swung a leg out and down into a shi shi trick to slow himself down. He looked around the room and noted the small tattoos littering hands around the room. A black X and three green dots filling all but one section. It was the Musutafo Crime Syndicate. They were in his club, watching him dance. Their goons had been coming other nights, but there were never so many people on a Wednesday…

They were there for him.

Izuku dropped down and did a walk around the pole, prepping for his next move (a pole trick or martial arts, it's too soon to call). He climbs into an upright crucifix and again examines the room. He counts the gang members he clocked earlier and doesn't see any familiar faces among the crowd. People have started coming after Izuku at the club because he hadn't differentiated his aliases. An oversight in afterthought. He bit off more than he can handle when he teased the underworld prince kid. The emasculation hadn't helped his cause either. Well…perhaps his cause, but not his safety.

Izuku skipped his last dance and packed up to head out early. He had hoped his early dismissal wouldn't be expected and the mess of guys inside wouldn't catch him. He donned his motorcycle gear quickly and latched his helmet, rushing to get out. His mind raced with what he was going to do. The club wasn't safe anymore, but he needed the income and it was rather hard finding establishments (even seedy ones like this) that would accept a kid with no ID to work. He'd have to figure out how he could use the information he had to make them back off. Maybe a hacker that could post it remotely if he got hurt?

"Hello Bunny ," Izuku heard a voice oozing disgust. He had just exited the back door to find 12 muscled-up gang members from the club. Maybe he hadn't been so sly in his escape after all. He turned back to the door to find one man shoving it closed and standing blocking it. The rancid, syrup voice started again behind Izuku, "Now, why would a pretty whore like you think they could mock Jared?" He whipped around to stave off the danger. "Wh-who?" Izuku mimicked a scared, clueless bimbo. The scared part wasn't too far off, in reality. The men all broke into laughter and Izuku played his part, cowering at the sound and trembling in his boots. "The son of the Head of MCS. You gave him a lap dance and said some interesting things. Did you maybe hear something from your boyfriend, or just one of the men flipping your mattress? I'd pity the man that confided in a whore like you. Loose lips…well, you know what else is loose, don't you?" the thug insulted him. "I-I don't have a boyfriend. I'm so s-sorry. I heard a name in th-th-the c-club. I th-thought it'd be funny. I don't even know why he hit me!" Izuku cried. Wow, he didn't think he could make tears anymore? Especially fake ones. He hadn't felt this heat in his face in a long time. It was disorienting on top of the situation.

Wait…they didn't know he was the infiltrator. They'd thought him a cheap slut just playing a dangerous game, not actually the individual responsible for ruining their security. That fact didn't keep him from this peril, but at least he might not die. They did like his performance after all. Guess sex appeal really does have real-world benefits. It's not like Izuku has anything else, so he'll take any tool he can get.

"Tch. Just some shit-dumb hooker. Still need a lesson though, doll. Rules are rules. Maybe next time I can stuff your mouth with something else to keep it occupied, eh?" the man said, lighting a cigarette and stepping away. Izuku swallowed thickly as the other 11 men stalked closer.

He didn't have his gear after a dance shift, so when he was jumped he hadn't had much of a means to fight back. If he had his bow staff, or his daggers, or even just his rope, then he could've probably gotten out of this. He did take down a few, but raw fists against 11 quirked dudes with the upper hand element of surprise hadn't gone his way. At least his bike armor had protected his spine from the beating, but the concussion when they ripped off the helmet was unavoidable.

"Sir? Sir? What happened?"

Izuku heard someone calling out to him. He had been diligent in not falling asleep (it's pretty bad to do with an almost definite concussion, you know), but face down to add pressure to some injuries wasn't conducive to situational awareness. Rough hands gently rolled him onto his side, careful to stabilize his neck just in case, before Izuku was met with a homeless man. Wait? No. He was scruffy, had long stringy hair, sunken tired eyes, and ratty clothing, but not homeless. "I'm a hero. I am here to help you. Can you speak?" the man asked. It was underground Pro-Hero Eraserhead.

Izuku was familiar with the man. They'd been crossing paths for a while now, but it seemed once again his vigilante costume was a rather good disguise. Or maybe it was the blood crusting his hair? Eraserhead didn't recognize him from just 3 nights prior. "I will call an ambulance-" the hero explained. "No!" Izuku shouted, head swimming at his first cognizant speech being a forceful yell. No ID . "Uh, just some scrapes…" Izuku said, moving to remove his motorcycle gear. Aizawa assisted him and grimaces at every wince Izuku gave. "Let me take you-" Aizawa started again. "No." Izuku was firmer this time. It was clear he wouldn't allow the hero to disrupt any of this. "I'll just get my bike and…" Izuku starts, looking around. "Sir, where you looking for a motorcycle?" Aizawa asks. Izuku nods and spots the pile of metal in the corner of the alleyway. Destroyed. Completely junked. One of the gang members must have had a quirk that turns mechanical things into base element parts, because nothing even resembled a motorcycle now. Justtttt great. How was he even supposed to make it home now? Or back to work?

Izuku starts laughing. It was small at first, but grew into a deranged cackle the more he realized his situation. Dark would be falling soon, and he'd need to make it up the mountain before it came. He could get to his first aid kit, get some food maybe, and just sort this all out. He had already received his "lesson", so maybe they wouldn't be back? Who would spend so much time on a worthless whore anyway? "You aren't worthless," Aizawa corrected from next to him. Ah, the stupid mumbling problem. He never corrected that one. Izuku just shut his mouth and nodded appeasingly, not quite believing the claim. "So, you need to hike a mountain? Can at least give you a ride?" Aizawa offers. Izuku looks sternly at the hero but falters when he sees the kind eyes. He didn't need to see his hideout, but if he could bring him up most of the way then Izuku may save himself a few hours. "Okay, Hero. Give me a ride," Izuku agreed.

Aizawa went and got his car from around the corner. He explained that the garage he kept it in was close and he had been coming to run some errands when he found him. He asked again if he could take him to a hospital, but Izuku insisted right back that if he tried, he'd throw himself from the car. Aizawa sighed at that and mumbled something in annoyance. "Why do you smell like piss?" Aizawa scrunched his nose, finally addressing the stench. "They rinsed me off after," Izuku explained with a sick smirk. "Gods…" Aizawa whispered.

Izuku let him take him most of the way up the mountain but had him stop just at the start of his long straight. He figures it's like a long driveway in some regards; one just like at those massive mansions that have a huge drive up to the main residence. Aizawa falters and asks if he doesn't want him to bring him closer to his house, but Izuku waves him off. He assets down the path alongside the road, but Aizawa idles the car forward and pesters again, "Are there even any housing developments near here? I can bring you closer, it's no problem." Izuku stops and the brakes on the old car squeal as they halt too. "I want to go home now. I will not show you my home. Thank you for the ride, but I you continue to follow me I'll be forced to wait here until you leave," Izuku glares at him. Eraserhead remains silent for a moment, examining the man. It's against every heroic impulse in his body to leave this man alone. "Do you work at that club?" he asked. "Come sometime and find out," Izuku replies. "I'll take care of you," he claims irrationally. Izuku looks at the scruffy man in shock. Who says something like that? H doesn't even know Izuku. He has no frame of reference. For all he knows, Izuku could have been beaten up for being a villain. Izuku slackens his expression again and looks back down the road. He wouldn't accept the empty words. Aizawa nods and the car pulls away. Izuku waited until it was fully clear from view before heading towards his shed again. It wasn't really home…Aizawa walks into the club two nights later, and wanders around the bar until he finds a green mop of curly hair bouncing around. He sighed in relief. The owner hadn't lied that afternoon when Aizawa requested the kid's schedule. Izuku spots him and gingerly approaches the man. "Hello again, um…" Aizawa greets him. "Midobunny. Just call me Midobunny," Izuku instructs him. Aizawa nods and Izuku pops a hip, crossing his arms. "So, you found me. Why are you here, Hero-sama?" Izuku bites. "I wanted to check on you. Remember, I'd said I'd take care of you?" Aizawa reminds him. "What a great pimp," Izuku rolls his eyes. "That's not fair. You were pretty banged up," Aizawa argues. Izuku nods and hears the next song click on. He can't be caught slacking off, or being rude to customers really. He sighed and met eyes with the hero. "We can talk if you buy a dance. I'm on the clock, after all," Izuku tells him. "Uh-, um," the hero stumbles over his words. "In or out, Hero-sama?" Izuku says, stepping towards the main floor. "A lap dance?" he asked for clarification. Izuku giggled and walked over to a couch, swaying his hips over his overly tall heels. Aizawa sat down and Izuku pet his legs laboriously. The man was stiff in his seat, and Izuku rolled his torso against him. He swung over and sat in his lap, grinding down onto his lap. The hero looked awkward and uncomfortable, almost trying to move away from the half naked body in front of him. Izuku wrapped his arms around his neck and pushed his knees back, dangling off of him. The man remained silent the whole dance. "Didn't you want to talk?" Izuku giggled. " I'm ready for you ," Izuku whispered in his ear. Aizawa crumpled downward finally, pulling away from the touch. Izuku grinned victoriously. Being sexy….it's a cover. An easy defense. A protective mask he can slip on to disguise his fear. Flirting throws them off guard, putting them on the defensive, and Izuku likes being on the offensive in new situations.

The next time Shota comes, he is far more prepared for Izuku's advances. He may even be receptive, if this unbothered. Maybe he had just been flustered the first time? "Did you want more, Hero-Sama?" Izuku flirts. He doesn't really sleep with customers, but he could make an exception for a hero quickly becoming his regular. "Not tonight, thank you," he replies respectively. Izuku pretends to pout before dropping onto his lap again. It's a very nice lap to sit on. Just wide enough, and attached to a respectable man who doesn't dare get handsy or push limits. Izuku wants to ruin that perfect attitude. No one can be this…moral. That's only in the movies. Izuku grinds down and moans seductively. Aizawa gives no response except a small smile. Izuku is determined now, grinding into him and searching for a hard length pressing back. Izuku is working himself up doing this, letting slip little gasps and sighs as his own cock twitches. You could do a lot worse for a grind toy than a hot, dark man with a rock solid body. Izuku drops his forehead to the man's shoulder and falls into the pleasure of toying with him. "The song has finished," Aizawa called to him. Izuku brings his head up from it's daze and realizes he is, indeed, correct. "Damn, and just when we started having fun, too," Izuku pouts. It's a genuine pout, too. A sweet man coming to check on him filled his belly with butterflies just as much as it did acid. He was old enough to be Izuku's Dad, or maybe just a young uncle? Izuku couldn't tell past the patchy beard. Maybe he could get the man to hold him, too… Gods , Daddy issues sucked.

"What are these?" Aizawa asks, gesturing towards the bruises littering the bunny's legs. It was another night, earning another dollar. Izuku takes his hand and places it on his thigh, continuing to grind down on the scruffy underground hero, and guides his thumb to rub into a particular green bruise. The greenette sucked in a sharp breath at the sting. "My pole kisses" Izuku smiles. "So…you're safe?" the hero asks him. Izuku knows he is referring to physical abuse from someone. He knows that. But, Izuku hasn't felt safe in a long time, even if that's long passed him. "Who's ever safe, Hero-sama?" Izuku replies, dipping his head back to stroke his throat while he squeezes his thighs tighter around the man's hips. Izuku slides down his lap to between his knees and nuzzles his inner thigh, stroking up his calf teasingly. Aizawa watches him indifferently and continues his arduous questions. "Do they hurt you here? At the club?" he wonders. "Silly, they are pole kisses . Never heard the term? They're for us whores and us alone. We earn them, with every trick on that pole…" Izuku tells him. He says it as if it's some mythical story, never meant for mundane ears. Again, Izuku shuffles to wrap himself around the man's calf like a pathetic dog and squeezes. He gets no reaction, but still whispers, "We have to hold on really tight ." Aizawa nods in understanding, eyes still on the litany of purple, blue, and deeper gray marks spotting him like a leopard. Izuku huffs as the man still won't play along with his games. He rolls his face fully into Aizawa's crotch and slides his hands up his thick thighs, massaging pressure into the relaxed muscles. He isn't phased? "My husband wouldn't appreciate that," he informs the flirtatious bunny. Izuku doesn't stop, but releases a dry chuckle before adding, "That's what all the married men say." Izuku stands up and glances down at Aizawa before looking around the room for other potential clients. "Our dance is up, Hero-chan. A good married man like you should probably run home, now," Izuku quips. "I'm here for you-" Aizawa replies. "Isn't that good to hear? I love needy customers. Tip your waitress," Izuku stops him, walking off to find some more grocery money.

The scruffy man comes again, still in his hero costume. Not very discreet, if you ask Izuku. A pro hero hanging around the club so blatantly, though, deters the MCS from coming around anymore. "Welcome back, Hero-sama," Izuku approaches. "Back to sama?" he asks. "I can stick with chan if you like. Or, maybe, Daddy?" Izuku flirts, dragging his hand on Aizawa's chest as he circles him. "Aren't you worried I'll ruin your reputation in that getup?" Izuku teases. "I don't think my getup is the one in question here…" Aizawa reasons as Izuku circles back to the front. Izuku turned his back to the hero and quickly bent at the hips, dipping low to the ground and pressing his ass back into the hero's crotch. "Oh, these? I just threw them on. Do you like?" Izuku talks ever so conversationally as he twerks on the older man. "You look good in green," Aizawa nods, obviously just to be nice to the kid. He's trying to build a rapport, how sweet. "Yeah?" Izuku turns cutesy, changing tactics. He takes Shota's hand in both of his own and tugs him over to a couch. He slides up next to him and tucks his legs up on the couch, lazily tracing patterns on the man's chest. "I'd like to buy you something with a bit more coverage, though," Aizawa told him. "Hmmm. If you start buying me things, I really will have to start calling you Daddy," Izuku wiggles his eyebrows. He nips at Shota's ear lobe and the man politely leans away. "As I told you last time, my partner would not appreciate that," Shota addresses. Izuku huffs in a pout, "But, Daddy!" Aizawa looks a little seasick and mortified. "How old are you even, kid?" Aizawa asks. People had questioned before, but usually they were happy to hear the truth, or maybe even a lie that he was even younger . Everyone wanted a free pass to live their fantasies, even if it was morally appalling. "How young do you want me to be?" Izuku asked with a cheshire grin, softly palming Aizawa's crotch.

The man actually jumped at this, staring in horror at Midobunny, the questionably aged stripper. Izuku smiled sweetly in satisfaction, but felt the crack inside of him. He didn't want their pity. He'd far prefer their lust. At least then Izuku had something over them. He could hold their desires, be what and who they wanted. And if he had that, he was worth something to them. He had value that couldn't be denied. He held their power as his own. Then again, the horror shocked face was so saturated, dripping in pity and remorse towards what Izuku had become that Izuku himself was forced to see what lengths he'd crossed. He was supposed to be a kid…That's right, just a kid going to school and eating lunch from the cafeteria and worrying about math homework. But, he's not a kid. He's a whore. And he…likes it. He chooses to like it because he takes back his own power that way. Can't this stupid hero, this sweet married man, leave him to his destitute throne?

"I'm an adult. 19 years old," Izuku tells the man to save him. He spares him the reality of their harsh world. This hero can save us from the villains, but what about the demons eating us from inside? The sweet businessman that holds his family together despite himself will depend on the relief of sating his pedophilic desires with Izuku. Only one victim needs to be hurt to save the many other innocent people out there. This is one way Izuku finds himself to be a hero.

The next time Aizawa comes to the club, Izuku performed three songs. They'd been short staffed for dancers, and Izuku was willing to pick up the slack. He was tired by the time he needed to work the patron floor, but he persevered. Izuku avoided him at first, opting to entertain guests with more enthusiasm. When he'd passed him for the third time, he called him over. "Are you avoiding me?" Aizawa asked. Izuku told him, "Only paying customers get dances." Izuku was getting fed up with his hero schtick. "I'm here to help you," Aizawa replied. "My savior . Participate, or leave, Hero-sama. No free shows," Izuku droned. "I'll buy a dance…" Shota relents. Izuku kneels on the couch, hovering over a straddle. When the song changed beat, he drew his heels up under him so he was in a squat, then lifted his ass first and sexily stood up. He stood over the scruffy hero who's eyes never left his own. Izuku would push him. He didn't need to be coming around here, playing guardian angel, and taking Izuku's hard pressed energy. He grabbed the man's black locks and shoved his face into Izuku's crotch. He grunted in flustered surprise, and Izuku rolled his eyes. The man clung to his stoicness like a statue. Izuku released him and turned so his ass was now in the hero's face. He bent a knee and slid down his body, pressing against his chest, torso, and hips on the way down. Izuku sat on his lap facing outwards and grinded his hips back and forth. "You paid for a dance, hero-sama," Izuku explained obviously. "You looked strong up there. It was impressive," Aizawa tried to change the subject. "I'm glad you think so. Which move was your favorite?" Izuku asked sarcastically. "When you flipped over and climbed the pole. You had used your knee to pull yourself up," he answered earnestly. "The circus climb? Ha," Izuku laughed at his genuine attention, "Yeah, that's a hard one. Especially on my second routine. But, it's efficient for getting up quickly." Shota hummed thoughtfully. "Do you think you could teach it to me?" Shota asked. He wants to see Midobunny out of the club… "When are you climbing poles, Hero-sama?" Midobunny jokes. "Often, actually…" he considered his profession. Again, Izuku laughs at his sincerity and brings a hand to cover his snort. "You'd probably want to start with learning some starter moves. Nothing exactly beneficial to hero work," Izuku advises. "Who knows, my husband may like it?" Aizawa tries again. Izuku gives him a knowing look. He can see through the man's ploy to be closer to him. He's still trying to save him.

Izuku tries to press the man further. If his disgust could drive him away, the boy could finally know peace. A Pro Hero poking around his life was not conducive to his established lifestyle. It was only a matter of time before the man found out something Izuku wanted hidden. Izuku broke his no touching rule often with his regular Hero in an attempt to make him uncomfortable. He seemed very dedicated to his husband after all. He'd bring him up and talk about how nice the man was while Izuku drug his hands over his exposed body. This night, Izuku was tired of Aizawa trying to bring up school. He'd tried before, and Izuku wasn't sure why it was such a point of contention for the man. "So, did you like any of your classes particularly back in school?" the man tried. Izuku snorted and hid his laughing face in the man's neck. "What did I say?" Aizawa asked. Izuku nuzzled near his ear and responded breathily, falling back into his part, "I dropped out of school." The man seemed to deflate at that. "Oh, when?" he wondered. Izuku thought through his next move for a minute, just swiveling his hips absently. Finally, he smiled and tucked closer to the man's throat, pressing his body against the hero fully. " I lied before ," Izuku revealed. Aizawa was cautious now, just as any hero should be with someone holding them so close, and asked "...About what?" Izuku kissed his neck and Aizawa, to his credit, didn't even flinch. Izuku gave a kitten lick to his carotid artery and just as the hero grew impatient and was going to draw away, Izuku answered him, "I'm only 16. Haven't been to school in ages ." Aizawa snapped his head back, but Izuku tried to press against him again. "Please, stop," Aizawa requested politely. "Songs up. Run home, Hero-sama. Find someone who wants to be saved," Izuku quipped, sour with the loss of a decent customer. Or, maybe just a decent person. "Wait, please!" Aizawa called, tugging his wrist. Izuku relented and flopped back onto the couch, crossing his legs poutily. "I'm a school teacher. I can get you accommodations on campus and-" Aizawa began offering. Izuku scoffed and leveled him with a glare. "I wouldn't know the first thing about school," Izuku reminded him. "I'd teach you. Come on, kid…" Aizawa pleaded. Kid . Well, at least it didn't feel too condescending. "I've got better things to do," Izuku claimed and got up, leaving him for the night. That's how Izuku punished his kindness. Every time he offered an out, Izuku left.

Izuku never accepts help. The kind gestures and olive branches were neglected and trashed night after night. Aizawa still came to the club as often as he could, but he'd never leave with what he came for. Sometimes Izuku would accept a ride home (he could bomb down the hill on his longboard, but going up was always a hike). So, Aizawa would stay all night through the end of his shift if possible, just so he can be the option Izuku takes to get home. Some nights Aizawa couldn't catch him, having slinked off to get paid in some bed other than his own. Aizawa felt immense guilt on those nights, but Izuku never let him express it the next visit to the club. Sometimes, Izuku would even insist on a dance for free just to spite the man. "Accept or leave. The bouncers can throw you out for uncooperative attitude," he'd threaten the hero. Izuku grinded on him another night. It was hard for the teacher, but those times he made small changes made up for it. He bought the kid fast food or watched him lay his head on the sill of the car window and enjoy the night breeze for a few minutes before he was dropped off…

Izuku was getting out of his car another night following a draining shit. A patron got so handsy he literally exposed Izuku, which was super uncool. He felt embarrassed when he looked over at Aizawa waiting out the shift. The man only served to bring him shame and mortification if he wouldn't save Izuku, coming night after night. "Hey," the man's voice called quietly. "What?!" Izuku snapped. Shota was unfazed. "I'll take care of you," he vowed again. Izuku felt his soul crush. Did he want that? Was that even fair? He'd taken too many hero's dicks over the years to have any premonition that heroism was true, but Shota Aizawa, Pro Hero Eraserhead, teacher at the prestigious UA, was challenging that. And it made Izuku mad. What was his purpose in being a vigilante if the hero system wasn't all bad? Izuku slammed the car door and started his final walk to his trailer without so much as dignifying the bold claim with a response. Go! Go! Go! " called over the headsets. The heroes bust down the shipping depot gates on the side of the building. The SWAT team and police tactical unit filtered in after them. Aizawa was quick to cancel quirks of approaching villains so that the officers could get them in quirk-canceling handcuffs. He moves swiftly through the halls of the once abandoned building and pairs off officers as he goes, dwindling his team down further and further. After a nasty spat with a brute the size of 3 men, but the combat skills of an ape, Aizawa was leaning against the wall with a dripping cut on his forehead and a throbbing in his back. He wasn't the young spry chicken anymore. Heading an operation was difficult, but the Musutafu Crime Syndicate was one of the most prolific criminal organizations he had ever seen. He'd found their next central hub location—and the fact that it was a mobile hub, for that matter—with a bit of help from his green friend. The vigilante was almost taunting him with how easily evaded Aizawa was, but when he needed help he had asked, and that is all the man could ask for. This was a larger operation than one hero hopeful kid could pull off. After receiving that note informing him of simply an address and the symbol for the MCS—a rather crude drawing if you ask Aizawa—then he put together an infiltration unit based on his connections. He hoped the little vigilante was not in the vicinity. He hadn't heard from him since that note, but Aizawa hoped the man trusted him enough to follow through on the request (even if a scribble and some chicken scratch wasn't exactly a clear request).

Aizawa shuffles into the next room as he hears the different tactical teams calling out "Clear" over the comms. He leaks out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as he comes across cages. Hundreds of cages. Scared kids and pregnant women and exotic animals littered the room. The weapons stash and drug packing facilitations were already commanded by his team, and it seems Aizawa found the live trafficking holding station. He sighed a deep breath and called out in his most hero-like, commanding and reassuring tone, "You are all safe now. I am sorry for what has happened. I am a hero and I am here with the Musutafu Police Department to take you away from here. Some officers will be coming in to escort you out. Please remain calm to help us in our efforts to organize you safely and efficiently." He heard a few sobs of relief break around the room.

3 hours in, and the room of quirk trafficking victims was still not clear. Aizawa had made it to the last line of cages in the back and directed a few new police interns to break open the locks on some cages and were to stage the people. He himself approached a cage with an eerily familiar sheen of green. He bent down and spoke quietly to the lump on the cage floor, "Hello. I am a Pro-Hero. Are you hurt? Can you tell me your name?" The person drug their face along the floor to turn their head and look wearily back at him. Aizawa gasped. It was the vigilante that had assisted him. He must have been poking around too much and ran out his luck. Well, Aizawa was here to find him some more. "Hello, vigilante. I'm here to help," Aizawa reassured him. The kid gurgled a choked out laugh, spitting blood along with it, and Aizawa was swift to turn him over and assess his injuries. He's peeling back clothes and looking over the broken bones in his legs, noting the winced as he palates his abdomen, and chuckling himself when the vigilante asks, "You're not going to arrest me, right? Too cute?" "Yes, far too cute," he agrees to placate him in his pain. Aizawa calls out for a medic to help him out before turning his attention back to him. He carefully removes the man's mask and inhales a sharp breath when he is met with a face he has become very familiar with. There's no faux eyelashes and chunky glitter, but he'd know those eyes anywhere. "Midobunny?" he asks. Izuku swallows his constricting dry throat. "You recognized me, Hero-Sama! I should give you a dance to repay you," the boy responds, trying to feign excitement. "Stop, kid. It's okay…It'll be okay," Aizawa tells him.

Hours later, Izuku wakes up in the hospital. It's cold and sterile and he immediately wants to leave. He jots and spots Eraserhead sitting in the corner, his dark garb stark against the white, clean walls of the room. "You're awake," he mumbles, waking up himself. Izuku bites his tongue and looks around, as if planning an escape. Aizawa sees this and places a hand gently on his shoulder, coaxing him to relax. "You had a broken femur and a hairline fracture in your legs, a broken clavicle, bruised ribs and some internal bleeding, and severe dehydration and blood loss," Aizawa reported to him. "Hah. Didn't seem to need to keep their products in good condition, did they?" Izuku bitterly mocked. "You're lucky to be alive," Aizawa told him. "Aren't I just?" Izuku dismissed him. Aizawa scratched his neck, unsure how to continue. "How'd you get me in here? I don't have an ID," Izuku asked. Shota's head snapped up when he heard the kid speak so softly. "Oh, I uh, wrote you in as part of the mass intake event," he explained. Izuku nodded and started testing out his limbs, looking suspiciously at Aizawa when they seemed undamaged. The dark haired man chuckled and told him, "I had Recovery Girl come in to heal you. As a personal favor." "I owe you…" Izuku nodded along. "How about…you let me help you? Finally. That's how you can owe me," Aizawa tried. "Not very logical," Izuku equipped, still sounding soft and amenable. "Ah, well. Sometimes illogical moves are the best ones," Aizawa reasoned. "For who?" Izuku asked. Before the man got a chance to answer, he followed up, "Hey. I'm going to rest now." Aizawa agreed and said he'd leave to find himself a cup of coffee. The kid laid his head back on the pillow and Aizawa battled with himself to eventually leave the room.

One cup of hot, black coffee later, and Shota was shuffling back to his problem child. The only problem is, he walks back to an empty room. He doubles takes as he checks the room number, sure he hadn't gotten it wrong. A nurse walks by and he calls to her, asking where the kid in room 1433 disappeared to. She tells him that he checked out against medical advice and is gone. He hadn't been put under arrest, so there wasn't much to do. They couldn't hold him. They couldn't track him. Midobunny escaped again. (Well, he signed an AMA, but same difference.) Except, that wasn't quite true. Aizawa knew where to look for the kid.

He checked his… house first, but the kid hadn't even made it there yet. He sighed and realized it was time for his shift at the club. He shows up and asks if Midobunny was early for makeup, but doesn't find the boy. He drives around until he sees him limping along the street. "Mido," he calls. "Oh, hey Hero-Sama. Guess I'm not dancing for a while…Bum leg, got fired," he explained as if someone had screwed up his coffee order, mildly inconvenienced. "Mido-" Shota called out, trying to stop him. "I can give you some good recommendations for other performers. You'll be in good hands," he tells him cheerily. "Just stop. Kid. I don't want to watch you dance," Shota sighs. "Then you should be going," Izuku calls back, continuing to limp at minimum speed. He'd been healed, but a freshly set broken leg wasn't the best crutch to walk on. Aizawa watched him struggle, almost reaching out for the wall but standing still for a moment instead, likely embarrassed or determined or whatever naturally runs through this kid's head. "I want to take you home," Aizawa tells him through the car window. "After all those offers, only now Hero-Sama? You must have a thing for bum legs," the kid jokes, faking an understanding nod. "Please. I want to help you," Aizawa explains seriously. Izuku contemplates the offer. He can't exactly defend his 'home' like this and he wasn't going to get a job anytime soon. "How about just a bed and a meal?" the scruffy man reasons. "You cook?" Izuku looks suspiciously at the haggard, underfed man. "I know people that cook," he shrugged.

Izuku scoffed a wet laugh. The tears welling in his eyes were foreign. He hadn't cried for himself in a long time, and he didn't want to start now. If he could choke down a cock and forget for a moment he'd much rather, but he figured he would have to depend on the kindness of a stranger tonight instead.

In the car, Aizawa brings up Midobunny, the vigilante persona. "So, you've known every time I've come to the club, then. Right?" Aizawa asked. "Ah…right when I can't escape. Am I under arrest, Eraserhead?" Izuku responded, damning the door locks. Aizawa startles at being addressed by his underground persona. This kid knew him. He did have a reputation with the homeless, but the kid never let anything slip until now. He tries not to show it on his face. "No. I want you to do something else for me," Aizawa settles his features and reassures him. "Ah, so we are back to sex," Izuku teased. " Kid, " he says exasperatedly. "Fine fine. I'll suffer my horniness alone," Izuku dismisses the concern. Aizawa sighs and shakes his head, getting himself back on track. Man, was this kid disarming. He probably needed to be all of these years. "I want you to become my student. At UA," Aizawa expresses. Midobunny looks at him. He stares for a long time.

Aizawa had minutes and minutes of silent staring before he pulled over in a parking lot and finally looked back, meeting his gaze. "I'm quirkless," the kid said. "I don't care," Aizawa was quick to reply. The shock the kid felt at his immediate response was only perceptible as his eyes briefly opened subtly wider. This kid kept himself under wraps well. "What do you teach at UA," the kid asked, discerning. "Heroics," Aizawa said. The kid scoffed and turned his head, dismissing the joke. "You're a hero, Midobunny," Aizawa pointed out to him, feeling it was so obvious himself. The kid's sarcastic grin snapped shut and his jaw drew tight. Aizawa could tell he was done with the jokes. "You are an amazing fighter, smart as a whip for surviving these streets this long, and more than deserving of a fair chance," Shota told him. That final statement brought his eyes back to Aizawa. His stare was so strong and intense. Those green eyes had been through a lot—more than Aizawa perhaps—and they were testing him. Aizawa held that gaze with as much confidence as he could muster. They sat in silence waiting for the kid's reply. "My name is Izuku Midoriya. I'll be in your hands," he finally said, bowing his head. Aizawa gave a short nod and started the car again without so much as a comment. He'd waited so long for this kid's name. He's going to protect it.

Dude! You're totally cheating!" Kirishima exclaimed. "It's Mario Kart . How am I cheating?" Denki replied drily. "Nah, Denki has just practiced a lot, man. Lot's of lonely nights, ya know?" Sero teased. "Hey!" Denki called, smacking his friend on the arm. Kyouka and Ochako snickered in the corner. "Oh, come one. Not you too," Denki whined. "I don't know, Denks. Maybe your skills would impress Shinsou," Kirishima offered. Sero covered his mouth to hide the smile. "Do you think he'd come to game night?" Denki asked excitedly. Aw, the puppy , they thought consecutively. Momo piped up from her reading spot on the far beanbags, "I think he would Denki. You should ask." She was so sincere, when everyone looked back to Denki's fond expression they felt just as fondly. He was a silly airhead sometimes, but he loved with so much of his heart.

All of the students turned their gaze as they heard someone entering the main door. "I'll heat you up some leftovers and show you the room," said their sensei. Heads popped around the couch and over the back of it to peer at who was coming back so late with Aizawa-Sensei. Their eyes grew wide and Kirishima audibly choked on his own tongue when a short man walked in after Aizawa. The only thing was, the man was dressed up in the smallest booty shorts and bralette Kirishima had ever seen. He balanced gracefully on high 8 inch heels. Aren't those stripper shoes? The man rests a hand on Sensei's chest and asks seductively, "And whose room would that be?" Aizawa cocked his head to the side, not removing the man's hand, and replied, "Yours." The man tilted his head and hummed in understanding, rubbing slightly on Aizawa's chest. Their tired teacher sighs and reminds the man, "You know my husband wouldn't like that." "Aw, we're still hung up on that?" the green haired man chuckled.

Sero leaned over and asked the crowd, "Um, is that guy a…um." Kirishima looked off into the distance and replied, "I think I'm clinically dying with the amount of Tom-Fuckery happening in my head at the moment." Ochako chimes in with, "He can't be!" Todoroki wanders in from the kitchen, observant as ever, and bluntly asks, "Did sensei buy a whore?" Denki sparked from a glitch in his quirk control and the lights flickered. The rest of the students were released from their trance and all eyes were on Denki. Aizawa snapped his gaze over and saw his students witnessing this interaction. Izuku noticed, too.

"Hi boys," Izuku waved flirtatiously. "Stop that," Aizawa admonished him. "Um, sensei?" Momo called, wishing for some perspective to calm these teenage conspiracy theorists. Aizawa sighed and explained to them, "You're getting a new classmate." Kirishima looked him up and down as Izuku swiveled his hips in boredom, eloquently saying, "He's…uh." "Going to bed," Aizawa finished for him. "Sweet dreams! Men as pretty as you shouldn't be plagued by nightmares," Izuku over exaggerated his coyness, ending with a wink. Aizawa spoke softly, just for Izuku to hear, "I'll show you your room. I can bring you food up after." Izuku nodded in agreement as he let the man guide him by the hand on his lower back.

When Aizawa opened the dorm room for Izuku, the boy's eyes went wide. There was a huge bed in there, and an ensuite half bath. It was still a dorm room and not the pinnacle of luxury, but Izuku hadn't had anything this nice to call his own in a long time. Shota hands him the key and his eyes were wide as he looked between the small piece of metal and his new sensei's soft expression. "All yours," he confirmed. "You haven't even vetted me. What if I don't meet the requirements for the program?" Izuku wondered. "Hey. We'll accommodate you however you need," he explains. "That's a big ask," Izuku informs him. "You're worth it, kid," Aizawa tells him. Izuku nods, still not fully comprehending those words.

"We need to talk about boundaries, Izuku. You are my student now," Aizawa reminds him with crossed arms and stiff posture. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you Hero-sensei," Izuku tells him genuinely. Aizawa's lips quirk with the barest hint of a smile. "I think they were surprised," he comments. "I'm very surprising," Izuku nods. Aizawa actually chuckled at that. He scratched the back of his head, contemplating before he walked over and patted Izuku's soft curls. "Get some sleep, bunny," he told him. Izuku's face pinched as he ran through many emotions. He gingerly reached out and watched as Aizawa didn't pull away. He hugged the man softly and thanked him, "Thank you, Hero-sama. This…will be good." "Pretty soon I'll be calling you Hero, too. But, I may stick with problem child for now," Aizawa told him. Izuku's hands clenched in his jumpsuit and he nodded cautiously. Izuku pulled back with watery eyes that Shota was kid not to address. "Good night, Sensei," Izuku bowed politely.

The next morning, all of the students wake up to the smell of something sweet in the dorm. As they trickle downstairs, each peer into the kitchen and spot a random new kid making pancakes. Ojiro stays outside the threshold of the kitchen and waits for another student to tell him how he should proceed. Mina comes, and also anxiously avoids the kitchen as they discuss if they should grab Aizawa. "Grab me for what?" he surprises them. The kids jump and tell him the new student is cooking. Aizawa looks past them and walks into the kitchen, Izuku's back to him. "Good morning, Hero-sama," Izuku calls to him, never turning around or stopping his task. Good instincts… "You didn't need to cook, problem child," he tells him, easily shuffling off his surprise at the kid's skills again. "Yeah, I guess I'm just one of those people you know who cook," he smirks, licking a bit of syrup from his finger. "Load a plate up. I'm sure it'll be a long day," Izuku hands him a plate. He spots the hoard of students waiting at the doorway. "Eat up," he smiles at them. They stumble in, having been caught hiding.

Izuku sits on a stool at the breakfast bar while other students mill about, finding seats at different tables and counters. Izuku watches as every student enters the kitchen, carefully evaluating them. They are evaluating him right back. A few students are thrown by the barely dressed twink in the kitchen handing them a plate the second they cross the entryway, but rudeness was never becoming of a hero. They graciously take the plate, load up their breakfast, and find a seat. Only a few pause when they think Izuku is not looking to watch his milky thighs popping out of the bottom of the oversized t-shirt he wore. Every time he reached up on a shelf to grab more plates, the shirt drug up to hug the very edge of his thighs, just under his butt, and multiple eyes were drawn over to him. Aizawa had simply eaten his food, said nothing, and looked nowhere. The student's followed his lead, but the questions were mounting.

Bakugou enters the kitchen and sees the greenette. He freezes in his place as the kid turns and looks over at him, offering him a plate without a care in the world. "Izuku?" he asks, confused and off kilter. "Good morning, Kaachan. There's blueberries," he responds nonchalantly. Katsuki's childhood friend was back… He wasn't dead. Inko said he died. They held a closed casket funeral. The kid was gone. But he's here. And he remembers how Katsuki likes his pancakes. "But you're-" Katsuki starts, feeling faint and looking around like he's the only one not in on the joke. Izuku looks back over at him and takes another bite of his apple. The rest of the class look between them, obviously confused about how Bakugou knows the new kid. Katsuki walks over to him and sets a hand on his head. "You're dead," he says in awe, feeling the fluffy curls beneath him. They're real. He's real. This isn't a dream. Bakugou's eyes never leave Izuku's. "Apparently not," Izuku smiles, but it didn't reach his eyes. He had finished his food, so he told Aizawa he'd get ready for their meeting with the principal and simply walked out. He didn't pay Katsuki any extra attention, and the blonde boy stood shocked at the life altering news he just heard.

"So you knew Bakugou was in this class?" Aizawa asks as they walk towards the main school building that housed the administrative offices. "I followed the UA sports festival," he shrugged. "A bit cruel to surprise him, no?" Aizawa proposed. "Cruel is killing your child," Izuku quipped shortly. Now Aizawa realized why it had been so hard for Izuku to accept his help. He really needed to be at rock bottom with no tools to dig deeper before he would be thrown into the torrent of lies that forced him to dig in the first place.