“Person with designated prior consent in the case of medically severe aphrodisiac exposure?” Hizashi reads off the medical form, his eyebrows rising up towards his hairline. “Hey, Shōta, is this a misprint?" “Just put me down,” Shōta replies, making Hizashi’s brain short-circuit for a moment.

“It can’t be that difficult,” Shōta snorts. “You have clearly never tried to apply nail polish before,” Hizashi says flatly, giving Shōta an unimpressed look.

“You get either one more complaint or one more kiss before I gag you,” Shōta interrupts. “Choose wisely.”

'I just thought...I mean, we're 18! I figured maybe you'd fooled around. A little?' First time comic.

When he’d admitted his problem to Shouta in an embarrassing split-second decision that he’d almost regretted—because what twenty-two year old up-and-coming pro hero had never managed to get off before, seriously—he hadn’t expected his best friend to bluntly offer to help. But now. Oh, now. Hizashi felt like he was going to explode, and not in a good way.

Shouta’s plan had been ill-defined and desperate from the start, but he figures the important shit boiled down to, “Change as little as possible, make sure Midoriya doesn’t get himself killed, and stock up on lychee jelly pouches because that flavor got discontinued three years from now.” Keeping it simple’s always better, and he’s normally good at improvising. Somewhere along the way, he must’ve fucked up since now he has: A quirkless problem child hanging off of his every word His best friend going through a sexuality crisis thanks to said problem child’s mom His other best friend clinging to him like a security blanket Some two-bit mob boss threatening him with bouquets of daffodils To wring the number one hero’s fucking neck for not telling him anything useful before sending him decades into the past All he did was walk Izuku Midoriya home. It wasn’t meant to turn into whatever mess this is.

Shouta's never squirted before. When Hizashi, an instructional adult content creator, finds this information out, offers to help change that via a demonstrations video for his audience.

"It's not like any of my exes ever said 'let's fuck or I'm leaving you' but...yeah. It's a factor." "You just didn't want to sleep with any of them?" "I wanted to. Or wanted to want to, I guess." *** The impact left by Hizashi's ex-boyfriend still looms, too big and too much, so he asks Shouta for a favor.

Growing up Quirkless in today's society leaves its scars. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. This is a story of Aizawa Shouta finding and treating these scars and doing his best to keep the world from scarring his student further.

“About that… does the hospital have a copy machine?” Hitoshi chooses that moment to peak over Shouta’s shoulder, undoubtedly giving Tsukauchi a full view of his bloodied face. Unintentionally, he also gives Shouta the perfect opportunity to watch shock, understanding, and sheer resignation flash through the detective’s eyes. “You’re not telling me that you found another child on the way to the hospital with the first one,” Tsukauchi says. “I did not find another child on the way to the hospital with the first one,” Shouta lies. OR A story of two rooftops, two kids, and one extremely long night.

Hizashi treats it like a stim toy; absently running his fingers up and down the lips, circling the clit and tapping over the entrance when he starts to feel wetness against his fingertips. He pauses, lifting it to his face and, sure enough, the once dry pink silicone is glistening with slick.

Hizashi is spiralling; his hero career is on the brink of collapse, no radio station will give him a shot and he isn’t sure how much more he can take. When people start turning up beaten half to death, they lead him to an underground quirk fighting ring. Could it be the big break he needs to save his career or will the mysterious Referee show him something better?

“I dunno,” Hizashi shrugged. “He’s clearly not the worst guy in the world, considering who he goes after.” “I heard he’s pretty brutal,” he pointed out, not disagreeing. “Some of those people deserved brutal,” he said and decided to push a little more. “Did you hear about his last victim? That pharmaceutical director using experimental drugs on his son?” “Daughter,” Shouta corrected mindlessly before stiffening. Hizashi grinned. Gotcha.