༄.°loony 🫧⋆˙

thirst tweet #1

@bakudekudefender69

Pro Hero Dynamight saving the city with explosions AND that slutty waist. Pick a struggle, sir

He leans back in the chair like he owns the space, tongue pressing briefly to the inside of his cheek.

“…Slutty?” he repeats, incredulous, then scoffs. “I’m literally working.”

His eyes flick up, sharp with amusement. “And I’m doing it well.”

thirst tweet #2

@greatexplosionfuckmegod

Dynamight could tell me to shut up and I’d say thank you.

He doesn’t even look at the camera at first. Just reads it. Then—

“Shut up,” he says flatly, like he didn't even care. He glances up with sharp eyes.

“Now where’s my thank you?”

Laughter breaks out, loud and immediate.

thirst tweet #3

@peonypunk00

i’m going to destroy every chair on earth so the only place he has to sit is on my face

He drops his gaze, looks at the chair beneath him, then spreads his legs just slightly — claiming the space.

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job,” he says, smirk slow as his gaze dips. “I’m clearly sitting just fine.”

thirst tweet #4

@dynadaddy_

top me @/dynamightofficial, i deserved it

Katsuki hums, slow and thoughtful, like he’s genuinely considering it. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing with interest rather than annoyance.

“What’d you do to earn that?”

thist tweet #5

@explosive_thoughts

‘Oh look at me I’m so strong and handsome and I defeated afo’ girl fuck you

He squints, then laughs— sharp, surprised.

“…Okay, first of all,” he says, sitting up straighter, “accurate.”

Then he shrugs.

“Second, I kinda wanna meet them. That’s my level of confidence.”

thirst tweet #6

@dynamight_s_waist

oh i know its veiny @/dynamightofficial

Katsuki’s smile turns slow. He tilts his head, eyes gleaming.

“Oh?” He leans back, arms crossing, gaze never leaving the screen.

“Then go on,” he says. “What else do you know?”

thirst tweet #7

@sparksandzerofucks

Dynamight’s explosions are loud but my moans would be louder.

He exhales through his nose, amused, shoulders relaxing like he’s settling into this now.

“That’s a big claim,” he replies, shaking his head.

thirst tweet #8

@/groundzero0

I could take Dynamight

“In a fight?” Katsuki asks immediately, brows furrowing, genuine confusion on his face.

The director coughs. “Uh… no.”

He blinks. Then groans, dragging a hand down his face. “…I hate this place.”

thirst tweet #9

@bunnyspony

dynamight’s name is so long, i wonder what else is

Katsuki leans forward again— slowly, intentionally— forearms braced on his thighs.

“I’ll tell you what isn’t,” he says coolly. “My patience.”

thirst tweet #10

@y_n_bakugou

@/dynamightofficial tomorrow isn’t promised!!! we need to fuck today!!!

“The fuck—” He freezes. Stares intently at the username, then groans so hard he drops his head back.

“Why is my wife on this list?” He points at the screen. “And why does she have internet access?”

thirst tweet #11

@no1pussypopper77

I need to see Dynamight’s abs right now 😫😫

He sighs, already halfway standing. “Relax.”

With zero hesitation, he lifts his shirt just enough— no flexing, no posing, just defined muscle and obvious strength.

Gasps and giggles erupt in the studio, and one very loud oh my god can be heard.

He drops the shirt like nothing happened.

thirst tweet #12

@redsoji

Dynamight’s fav sex position must be missionary since that man never shuts his mouth. We can argue in peace while he’s dicking me down.🤤🤤

Katsuki considers it, nodding slowly.

“Clever theory,” he says.

Then he looks straight into the camera. “But wrong.”

There is a pause, then,

“It's doggy.”

People in the studio gasp, again.

thirst tweet #13

@dynamightfanpage

the way he leans in when he’s annoyed??? Sir, this is not foreplay. Or is it??👁️👁️

He reads it, then deliberately leans in again— closer, heavier, gaze unwavering.

“This is how I get people to listen,” he says evenly. “If you’re distracted,” his mouth curves, “that’s your problem.”

thirst tweet #14

@katsuki_s_lefttesticle

I’m IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN THERE’s JUST SOMETHING UNDIAGNOSED ABOUT HIM

Katsuki snorts.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s called drive.”

thirst tweet #15

@explosionbetweenmylegs

Dynamight makes me see sparks but can he make me see stars as well???

His smile turns sharp and controlled.

“That depends,” he says slowly, “on how much you can handle.”

thirst tweet #16

@kurabaku88

I love Great Explosion Sex God Dynamight or whatever is name is

He exhales, shaking his head.

“…They never say it right,” he mutters.

Katsuki exhales slowly through his nose and finally lowers the last cardboard, as he lets it drop onto the pile.

He leans back in his chair, spreading his legs, one arm draped over the backrest, the other sitting in his lap. There’s a grin pulling at his mouth— lazy, entirely too pleased with himself.

He quickly scans the studio: the crew still half-laughing, the director rubbing their face, someone behind the camera very clearly regretting their life choices.

“You’re all insufferable perverts,” he says, voice low and rough with amusement. Not angry. Not scolding. He’s entertained. His eyes flick towards the camera, sharp and knowing.

“Seriously. You really think you could handle me just because you’re typing behind a screen?”

He scoffs, shaking his head once, smirk widening as he taps the edge of the cardboard against his knee.

“Pathetic,” he adds— then pauses, grin sharpening. “…But I don’t hate it.”

Then his grin fades into something slower, more deliberate. His eyes narrow as if he has just remmebered something.

“…And you,” he says, lifting hand, finger pointing towards the camera, voice dipping into something dangerous but unmistakably playful, “just wait until I get home.”

He hums at your words, eyes still locked on his phone, trying to stay composed.

He wants to act like you’re not affecting him at all, but you catch it anyway — the way his thumb pauses for a split second, hovering over the screen before he continues scrolling like nothing happened.

“Katsuki, I’m bored,” you repeat.

“What does it have to do with me?” he replies in a flat, unimpressed tone.

“Well, you called me here.”

“No the hell I didn’t,” he rolls his eyes. “You invited yourself over. Like always.”

“You calling me here, me inviting myself — it’s the same thing,” you gesture vaguely.

“It literally isn’t,” he frowns at your logic.

“Whatever.”

Silence stretches between you two, as you watch him scroll through TikTok, completely ignoring you — and completely ignoring the position he’s ended up stuck in because of you.

He’s at the end of his bed, back pressed against the wooden table behind him, while you’re leaned into his side, cheek resting on his shoulder as if it is the most usual thing. His body is rigid, not matching how casual he is trying to act.

Minutes pass like that.

Then—

“Remember the last time I was here?” you suddenly ask.

He tenses instantly.

“…yeah,” he mutters, the answer too quick, followed by a fake cough like it might erase the crack in his voice.

His grip tightens slightly on his phone before he forces it to relax again.

“Wanna know something that happened after?”

“Do I have a choice?” he says, still not looking at you.

“C’mon, it’s really funny.”

“Just tell me.”

A devilish smile spreads across your face as you tilt your head, studying his profile, fully knowing you’re about to ruin his peace on purpose.

“That same night I also had a wet dream,” you say, voice light, almost teasing. “Isn’t that funny?”

For half a second, there’s nothing.

Then Katsuki’s face drops completely.

The phone slips from his hand, falling face down onto the surface between you.

His head snaps towards you fast as his lips part. His eyes widen in a way you’ve never seen before, like all of his usual cool disappeared. He is utterly taken aback by your words.

For a second, guilt pinches your chest, yet you quickly brush it off. In your defense, all of this is for his sake because he is clearly still thinking about your night together, but won’t admit it even if it gives him a hard time. So you decide to crack the door so he knows it’s okay to push it open.

“Funny?” he repeats, the word scraping out of his throat with a rough voice.

You don't say a word. You just look him in the eyes and offer a nod.

He shifts his weight, turning his entire body towards you in a second. The sudden change in his energy makes you instinctively lean back a bit, trying to reclaim some personal space.

“That shit,” he says, his voice dropping as he holds your gaze, “was anything but funny.”

“Oh, right. Maybe it wasn’t funny, but…” You pause, tapping a finger against your chin as if deeply lost in thought. “…hmm. Hot? Sexy?” you offer, flashing him a teasing smile.

He lets out a sharp scoff, his lips curling into an annoyed smirk.

“I wouldn't go that far,” he grunts, trying to take a jab at your ego.

You don't let it slide.

Instead, you raise an eyebrow and tilt your head to the side, letting a knowing look settle on your face. “Really? Because you seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit.”

“Don’t remember that,” he mutters, shrugging it off with a dismissive wave of his hand, acting as if it’s no big deal. As if he hasn’t been obsessing over it, thinking about it non-stop for the past few weeks.

“Liar.”

“Tell me what you dreamt.”

He completely ignores your provocation, dropping the question so suddenly it catches you off guard, apparently deciding he'd had enough of your bullshit.

Your eyes widen slightly, but the playful smirk remains on your lips. You honestly didn’t expect him to actually ask, but it seems you pushed him too far.

A slow, winning grin begins to spread across his face as he watches your reaction. It was small, barely there, but he caught it.

“You really want to know?” you ask, still trying to sound teasing.

“Yeah, we’ve got nothin’ better to do anyway,” he replies, a forced smile tugging at his lips. “And don’t be afraid to give details.” He squints at you, wondering what kind of lie you’ll come up with.

“But, Kats, it’s really explicit,” you continue, hoping to make him give up.

He lets out a mocking chuckle. “As explicit as me shoving my dick down your throat?”

“Oh,” you say, seizing the opportunity to deflect, “so you do remember.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he warns.

This time, there’s no escaping. He’s cornering you, his eyes reading every microexpression on your face. He knows you're spinning a story, but he wants to hear it anyway.

Left with no choice, you try to build on the lie, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I was at your place, and we started making out. Things got really heated... your hands were grabbing everywhere while I was riding your thigh. Then, while we were still kissing, my hand slipped inside your boxers. I gave you a handjob, but I didn’t let you come.” You swallow, trying to sound convincing. “I wanted you to do it inside me.”

He stays quiet.

But the way his jaw tightens gives away what he’s really feeling. You notice his fingers also curling into the sheets beneath him, yet you force yourself to keep talking.

“Then… we finally had sex. I was in your lap, riding you, while you held me close...”

He clears his throat.

“Still want it?” he asks vaguely, making you frown.

“What?”

His eyes finally meet yours.

“Me.” His voice comes out quieter this time. “Inside.”

The words hit you far harder than you expected.

Just a second ago, this was a stupid lie you were making up to get under his skin. Now it suddenly doesn't feel like a joke anymore.

Your throat goes dry and your stomach flips.

He's not asking about the dream.

He's asking about now.

“I...” Your voice falters for a second. You lick your lips before trying again. “I do.”

For a brief moment, he simply looks at you.

Then his hand drifts down to his waist.

Your eyes follow every movement as his fingers hook around his belt, slowly unbuckling it with a quiet click. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls the zipper down before slipping his hand inside, palming himself through the thin fabric of his boxers.

You can't look away.

“I want to do it,” you admit quietly.

His hand stills.

He looks back up at you with a gaze you can't quite decipher.

Then, after a brief pause, he gives a small nod.

Slowly, you reach out, sliding your palm between his muscular thighs. Your fingers wrap around him as you begin stroking him through the fabric. A low hiss escapes his lips. Katsuki leans back on his palms, watching you, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

“Who initiated the make-out session?” he asks, his voice already strained as your hand continues its steady rhythm.

“It was me,” you answer quickly, meeting his eyes.

A small, almost ironic smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Hah. Figures.”

He rolls his hips into your touch ever so slightly before looking back at you.

“C'mere.”

Taking the invitation, you shift closer, your knees framing his thighs as your free hand slides up his chest, fingers gripping the front of his shirt to pull him closer. Your lips hover over his until you finally close the gap.

His lips are parting instantly as his tongue drives past your lips, tangling with yours in a desperate rhythm. You tilt your head, shifting your weight to deepen the angle, swallowing the low groan that tears from his throat.

Even as the intensity of the kiss makes you dizzy, your hand between his thighs doesn't falter. You tighten your grip around his cock, your palm sliding up and down the dark fabric of his boxers in a relentless pace.

His hands rip away from the mattress, one wrapping firmly around the nape of your neck to keep you close to him, while his other hand digs into your hip, pulling your pelvis flush against his thigh.

A thin line of saliva drags between your lips when you pull back just a bit for air, but Katsuki immediately chases you as he seals his mouth over yours again, sucking your tongue back into his mouth.

He is completely gone at this point, caught between the kiss and the strokes of your hand between his legs. The small space fills with the smacks of your mouths, your moans combined, finally letting out the sexual tension that has been building between you for the past weeks.

When he tears his mouth away, panting heavily, he doesn't go far.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath against your skin as he trails a string of wet kisses down to your collarbone. Your hand keeps moving over his length, feeling the wet patch forming on the material of his boxers.

His entire body trembles under your touch. The friction is too much as Katsuki abruptly catches your wrist. He pulls your hand away from his boxers as he looks at you with blown-out pupils.

“F-fuck this,” he grunts, his voice completely wrecked.

His hands suddenly move from your hips to grab the hem of your shirt. He pulls it over your head so aggressively a seam pops, and you laugh at the sound of your clothes actually ripping because of him.

“Jesus, Katsuki,” you wheeze as you place your hands over his chest to keep your balance. “Slow down. You're acting like you’ve never actually done this before.”

Katsuki freezes at your words. He stares at you with a weird expression, remaining quiet for a few good seconds and an unexpected shade of red creeps up his neck, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, his usual loud arrogance suddenly gone. He looks away, refusing to meet your eyes. “Maybe I haven't. What about it?”

Your eyes widen, your heart doing a sudden flip in your chest. Yeah, next time when you hookup with your friends you should definitely ask them some details first.

The realization hits you fast, melting away all the playful malice from earlier. A sudden wave of emotion washes over you.

“Wait... really?” you ask, your voice softening. You reach up, gently cupping his cheek, forcing him to look back down at you. “Are you sure? Are you sure you want to do this... with me?”

Katsuki lets out a low sigh, leaning his face into your palm, then closes his eyes at the touch.

“Don't start getting all soft on me now,” he murmurs, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“No— it’s just…” you bit your lip, before talking again. “You know I lied I had a wet dream, right?”

“Of course I did, you’re a shitty liar,” his eyes lock onto yours again, brows pulled together in an annoyed frown. “And why the hell would I want anyone else?”

A warm, giddy feeling spreads through your chest. You smile at him as you nod.

“Okay,” you whisper, shifting your weight.

You place your hands on his broad shoulders, gently pushing him backwards. “In that case... lean back. Let me do my thing. I'll give you a show.”

Katsuki grunts, but obeys, sinking back onto the mattress and propping himself up slightly on his elbows. His gaze is heavy and completely fixed on how you unbutton your jeans, pulling them down your legs, before you straddle his lap again.

Your hand moves to his face, stroking his cheek then trace the side of his neck, as you move down to feel the muscles through his shirt.

Your then stop at the hem of his boxers and dip your fingers under the material. You finally drag it down his hips, gaining a sigh of relief from Katsuki as his cock finally springs free from the restraints.

His pink tip was already glistening in pre-cum, seeing it drip down his veiny sides. His lenght and thickness make you squirm in his lap, as your wet panties become more uncomfortable on you.

In a swift move you pull them aside, revealing your sticky, wet folds to him. You wrap your hand around his cock as you guide him near your entrance.

Slowly, you sink down his length, making sure to let him enjoy every second of your warmth. Everything was too hot and sensitive, making you both gasp simultaneously, as your breaths catch.

Katsuki’s hands fly to your hips, his fingers digging in deep to steady you as his head falls back against the soft pillows, a low groan tearing from his throat.

While you adjust to the big stretch, you watch him carefully, noticing the way his body reacts to you. His jaw is tight, the veins on his neck are a lot more pronounced, sweat already prickles at his forhead and his fingers grip you for dear life.

Once the tightness eases, you begin to move, setting a slow, agonizingly pace. The friction between your bodies creates a slick, wet sound that fills the quiet bedroom. You arch your back, riding him with controled movements, at first, rolling your hips and watching the way his eyes track your body, completely mesmerized.

Then, as you feel your knees get tired and the pleasure building inside your stomach, the movements get sloppier and messier.

Seeing this, Katsuki can’t just lie there anymore.

With a sudden surge of energy, he sits up, wrapping his huge arms around you and pulling you tightly against him. He buries his face in your chest, his mouth finding on of your breasts, sucking and biting your skin with desperate hunger. The sharp sensation sends a jolt straight to your core, making your head fall back at the sensation.

Katsuki moves his mouth to your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark, his ragged breaths vibrating directly against your pulse point.

You can feel the tension in his muscles coiling tighter and tighter, his breathing turning into choked gasps. Seeing him so fucked out and vulnerable under you motivates you in the worst way possible. You wanted to ruin him completely.

“Fuck, I'm gonna—” he chokes out, his fingers bruising your hips as he locks you in place.

He doesn't pull out as he drives up into you one last time, his body going completely rigid beneath yours.

You feel the sudden, intense warmth spilling inside of you, filling you up as he cums deep within, his chest raising as he lets out a broken groan. His orgasm ties with yours, your walls clutching tightly around him as you both ride out the waves of the release, as if you don’t want it to end. You drag it at much as you can, riding him until your body gives out.

With one more stroke, you fall breathlessly against him, being welcomed by his sticky, hot skin and his warm breath hitting your cheek. Your eyes are half lidded, your hair is glued to your forehead and you feel his cum spilling out of your cunt and making a mess where your bodies connect.

“Fuck— this was…” you try to describe it, but you can’t really find the right word, probably because your brain is all mushy and you are completely intoxicated with his scent.

“Yeah,” Katsuki says on a raspy voice, but he doesn’t really know what he agrees to.

A few moments of silence pass.

Then— you suddenly let out a giggle, making him look at you confused.

“What’s so funny?” He flicks your forehead to catch you attention.

“The fact that all this started because you had a wet dream of me,” you say amused as you rub the spot he hit, totally unbothered.

He groans at your reply, dragging a hand over his face.

“Don’t even remind me. I have been through hell and back because of you.”

“But do you like the outcome?” you look for his gaze.

His red eyes lock into yours in an instant and a small smirk dances on his lips.

As usual, his genuine concern had been twisted into something ugly.

“Damn,” Katsuki scoffed, shaking his head. “She really knows how to spin shit. Always on your ass.”

“That’s her job,” Izuku replied with a casual shrug, even though the constant villainization still unsettled him more often than he cared to admit.

And Katsuki saw straight through it.

“Hey.” The blond suddenly spoke again, a slow, devilish smirk spreading across his face as his eyes glinted with something dangerous—and mischievous.

Izuku stiffened. He knew that look far too well.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Izuku cut in immediately, pointing a finger at him, “it’s a no.”

“She deserves it,” Katsuki insisted, nudging his shoulder. “Let’s just mess with her a little. It’ll be fun.”

“Kacchan… it’s not right,” Izuku trailed off, gaze shifting to the side. His voice softened, conflicted.

“C’mon, Izuku,” Katsuki pushed. “Why not just give her what she wants?”

“And what does she want?” Izuku raised a brow, genuinely confused.

“To meet her favorite hero.” Katsuki winked suggestively.

Izuku blinked—then almost laughed. “Favorite?”

“Yeah, you heard me. I know freaks like her.” Katsuki snorted. “Bet she’s got posters of you all over her walls. Probably sleeps with a fuckin’ Deku-sized pillow every night.”

Izuku froze for half a second, the idea uncomfortably vivid.

“Well… studies do show that people who spread extreme negativity often develop obsessive tendencies towards the subjects they criticize,” Izuku began, hand coming up to his chin as he slipped into analytical mode. “There’s a big possibility this behavior applies to her as—”

“Oi, nerd.” Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Shut up. Let’s do it.”

Izuku sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine.” He hesitated, doubt gnawing at him. He wasn’t the type to mess with people. Not like this.

…And yet, something darker stirred in his chest at the thought of finally confronting you after months—of making you feel the weight of every careless word you’d written and said about him when all he’d ever done was help.

***

“You sure that’s the street?” Izuku asked through his incorporated mic, frowning down at the crumpled scrap of paper in his hand before glancing up at the massive apartment complex looming above him.

“You think I don’t know how to do my fuckin’ job?” Katsuki snarled back through the speaker.

Izuku winced instinctively. “Jeez… loud.”

“Wow,” Izuku muttered, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Talking shit really does pay well, huh?”

“She’ll be back around six,” Katsuki continued, all business now. “No neighbors nearby. Private area. Stay out of the cameras and activate suit camouflage.”

“Yeah, yeah. Relax,” Izuku replied smoothly. “I got this.”

“You better,” Katsuki warned. “Or tomorrow there’s gonna be a headline like: ‘Friendly Hero Deku Breaks Into Woman’s Apartment.’”

Izuku laughed quietly. “Alright. I’m off.”

With a flick of his wrist, the camouflage function activated—and he vanished.

***

Today was longer than expected.

Every minute felt stretched thin, exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin. All you wanted now was to soak in a long, hot bath and fall asleep early—no noise, no thoughts, just silence.

You arrived home very late, as traffic had been unbearable, horns blaring, lights flashing endlessly. You told yourself again that you should just take the subway. Yet you never listened.

With a tired shake of your head, you entered your apartment, locking the door behind you. Your coat and shoes were discarded carelessly by the entrance as you stretched, muscles aching, steps slow as you walked down the hall towards your bedroom.

You twisted the handle without much care, pushed the wooden door open… and instantly froze in place for a few good seconds.

Then,

Your body moved before your brain could even process what was happening.

You slammed against the wall, breath stolen, heart thundering as a wave of disbelief and fear collided with your chest.

“W-what— what are you doing here?!” you screamed, horror ripping through your voice, heart hammering so violently it felt like it might burst out of your chest.

Deku was there. In your room. On your bed. Lounging like he had every right to be there.

Holding a stuffed plushie to his chest.

Your stuffed plushie.

Of him.

“Oh,” the masked man said lightly, tilting his head, eyes scanning the room attentively.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me? Given all the posters… figured you’d be thrilled to have the real thing,” his voice was soft, almost teasing.

Your words failed you. Your tongue tied itself in knots, mind spiraling. Shock, fear, disbelief—they all churned together like a storm inside you.

The man who had occupied your thoughts for months ever since the first moment you saw him on screen—your fixation, your obsession—was here.

“Didn’t know you were such a big fan,” Deku said while he finally stood up from your bed, leaving the plushie behind and stepping towards you.

“I—I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking. Tears pricked your eyes, and your lip trembled.

He softened slightly. “Aww… don’t cry. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not the bad guy you make me out to be.”

Ouch.

That stung harder than you expected.

“T-then…?” you sniffled, blinking rapidly, ashamed that your body betrayed you like this.

“I’m here to talk,” he said, stepping back just enough to give you room to breathe—but not enough to make you feel free. “Your articles… they make me feel bad, y’know?”

You lowered your gaze, shame flooding you. “I—I know.”

“Then why do you write them?”

“I just— I—” The words stumbled over themselves.

“And don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, pointing his finger towards you. “I’m already pretty mad,” he chuckled lightly.

You took a deep inhale, needing air more than ever as you felt your chest tightening painfully. You weren’t supposed to say what you were feeling—but it was your only choice. You didn’t want to upset him even more. Being honest was the best you could do.

“Lots of people write g-good things about you,” you stammered, cheeks burning, voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t stand out, so I… I did the opposite… because I… wanted your attention.”

His silence made your stomach flip. You dared a quick glance up. Even if you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he was surprised. Not angry. Not even annoyed. Just… slightly thrown off by your confession.

Your heart lurched. “I—I didn’t mean… I mean… it sounds stupid…”

“Okay,” he said softly, eyes locking onto yours behind his mask, sharp but not unkind. “You have my full attention now. And what next?”

You felt the weight of the moment press down, every nerve screaming, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. This was your only chance.

“I—I like you!” you blurted, barely able to hold his gaze. “I… you’re everything I want!”

Deku’s body stiffened at your second confession, expecting anything but this.

“You don’t even know what kind of person I am, what I look like,” he chuckled, voice low, teasing—but gentle.

Your heart melted at the sound.

“But I know you!” you insisted, cheeks hot and hands trembling. “You’re heroic, kind-hearted… helpful. You wouldn’t be standing here to just talk if you were like I portrayed you… I’d be dead!”

“Oh?” he murmured, eyes widening slightly behind the mask, and you saw a flicker of real surprise.

“And I don’t care what you look like! I fell for you anyway… nothing can change what I feel for you,” you mutter, gaze falling down as you felt so ashamed. “Let me make it up to you!”

“Make it up to me?” he asked, tone teasing, voice softer than before.

“Yeah! In any way. I would do anything for you!” you admitted. “Please.”

“You know what you’re implying, right?” His hands twitched at his sides, but he didn’t touch you, nor move closer.

“Yes,” you whispered. “This… this is what I’ve wanted since… since I first saw you…”

He paused, studying your face carefully, and then lifted his hand to your cheek, pressing gently but assertively.

“Maybe I should,” Deku said softly, tone darkening just enough to make your stomach flutter, “…knock some sense into you, yeah?”

Your fingers grazed the fabric of his gloved hand, heart leaping with a strange mix of fear and longing.

“I… can’t believe this…” you started, voice trembling with excitement.

But then, his posture stiffened. You could see the shift in his body language—a caution threading through his usual softness.

“But I don’t think I can trust you,” he said, his voice calm, low, but firm as his hand moved away from your face. The mask softened the words, but the weight behind them pressed against your chest.

“What if… you twist this?” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “What if you say… that I forced myself on you?”

Panic and shame surged. Your stomach dropped. Your hands reached his strong chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit, desperate, trembling.

“No! I would never! Just, tell me how I can win your trust!”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you with a smile behind his mask, amusement spread all over his face.

“I’ll do anything— I won’t write lies! I won’t make up negative things about you anymore!”

“Hm…” he murmured, tilting his head again, eyes bright behind the mask. “That’s a good start,”

He took a slow step closer, and even in the suit, the closeness made your chest flutter uncontrollably. “Since you’ve already got my attention,” he added softly. “You don’t have to… keep pretending.”

A shiver ran through you—not from fear, but from relief, awe, and a rush of something dangerously sweet. Your heartbeat finally began to slow from its frantic pace. The tension between you felt fragile but alive, charged with possibility.

There he was— the hero who had inspired you in secret —and maybe, just maybe, he was letting you in. You didn’t even know how he looked like, what his real name was, but you didn’t even care.

But then,

Deku gently pushed your hands down, taking a slow step back, glancing towards your window. His posture shifted slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing—but there was a quiet purpose in his movement.

“I should go… for now,” he said softly, voice calm behind the mask, almost gentle.

Your chest tightened, panic bubbling up. “Wait! Wait—please!” you called, sprinting after him, voice trembling.

“Don’t go!” Your fingers clenched around his bicep, gripping tightly as if your hold alone could keep him grounded.

“Just—stay! Please?” The words left you urgent, determined, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

“I’m sure… you don’t even have time for dating with this hero life… or am I wrong?” Your voice was quiet, thoughtful.

He stood silently, hands twitching at his sides, fighting the urge to touch you—but he didn’t. Oh, this hero discipline… always so painfully precise.

“You can trust me! Look around—I’m your fan!”

You stretched your hand to gesture around, every inch of your room plastered with posters and photos of him, every shelf filled with action figures, fan made comic books, newspapers in which he appeared… Everything was a confession, proof of your obsession.

“I would never make this… something bad,” you continued, voice shaking but steadying. “I wouldn’t even tell anyone about this!” Desperation bled through your words, eyes pleading.

“Or is it that you don’t find me attractive?” you asked softly. “If… if that’s it, I understand…”

“No,” he answered simply. Short, firm, unwavering. Relief flooded your chest like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Then? Will you let me?” The words were almost a whisper, tremulous, hanging between you like fragile glass.

“Not tonight,” he replied, shaking his head, his voice soft but resolute.

“Then… when?” The question slipped out before you could think, vulnerability raw in your tone.

“Let’s wait,” he said carefully, each word deliberate, measured. “See if you keep your word. Then… I will come to you.” Even through the mask, you could feel the faint curve of a smile in his tone—warm, teasing, and sure.

“Okay…” you exhaled, letting go reluctantly. Of course it wouldn’t be this easy. After months of tearing him down, his skepticism was understandable.

“Promise me,” you called as he moved towards the window, voice small but resolute.

“I promise,” he offered a firm nod, as he opened the lock and stepped onto the ledge.

His movements were precise, fluid—the kind that came from years of training, agility perfected. He waved at you, a playful flick of his hand, before launching himself into the night. A black webline shot out, anchoring to the neighboring buildings, pulling him swiftly and silently out of sight.

Your eyes followed him, mind spinning with a storm of disbelief, excitement, and longing.

***

Izuku moved through the city silently, the shadows swallowing him like a second skin.

Normally, he would call Katsuki for advice, reassurance, or just to vent—but tonight, he craved solitude. The confessions you’d made weighed heavily in his chest, twisting him in ways he hadn’t expected, leaving his thoughts tangled in knots.

Was it right for him to respond to your advances?

The question gnawed at him, sharp and insistent. The power imbalance pressed against his conscience like a thorn, even as a soft, insistent desire coiled in his stomach.

You liked him, desperately, urgently, and he had seen it in your eyes, heard in your voice, felt it in the tremble of your hands. Yet that didn’t erase the rules he lived by, the moral code that governed both hero and man.

He had never used his fame for this. His life was buried under hero work, college, training, endless obligations. Attraction from someone else? That had never been on his radar. And now, here you were, daring, honest, vulnerable… impossible to ignore.

As he neared his dorm, he dropped lightly into a dark alley, the soles of his boots thudding against the concrete. He checked the yellow backpack tucked carefully in his usual spot—everything in its place.

He discarded his suit, then he scanned the street again, making sure no one had witnessed him. He then smoothened the clothes under the suit, which were pretty wrinkled now, and started walking.

Every step towards his dorm felt cautious, aware. Even in solitude, the memory of your words lingered, warm and dangerous.

And for the first time in a long time, Izuku realized he wasn’t just thinking about heroics, duty, or morality—he was thinking about you.

***

“Took you long enough, nerd,” Katsuki drawled as soon as Izuku stepped in, locking the door behind him, eyes turning towards his friend with curiosity and mischief.

“What’s with the long face? Pussy not that good?” he smirked, and Izuku pressed his hands to his face in immediate shame.

“We didn’t do anything,” he muttered, slumping onto his bed, a sigh escaping him.

“Why not?” Katsuki raised an incredulous brow.

“Because… I can’t just trust her yet,” Izuku admitted, voice soft, conflicted.

“Then what the hell did you do?” Katsuki pushed, leaning forward on the arm of his chair, sharp gaze fixed on him.

“We talked. She promised she won’t write lies nor bad-mouth me anymore… and I promised I’d come back to her,” Izuku explained carefully.

“You’ll go back, right?” Katsuki prodded, tone light but insistent, sensing something.

“I… don’t know,” Izuku said quietly, eyes flicking away, uncertainty threading through his expression.

“Dude, what the fuck? She clearly wants you.” Katsuki shook his head, half-laughing.

“I’m not used to this,” Izuku whispered.

“Then get fucking used to it. Trust me, she’d spiral if you don’t go.” Katsuki leaned back. “And you’d be surprised how many people want both Deku and Izuku. Have more confidence.”

Izuku blinked, a small, smile tugging at his lips. “You think so?”

“I know so, nerd,” Katsuki said firmly, voice softening just enough to sound like a friend instead of a tormentor.

The room fell quiet, the only sound the faint hum of electronics and distant traffic.

Finally, Izuku let himself exhale. “Thank you, Kacchan,” he murmured, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

“Shut the hell up,” Katsuki replied, tone uneven, already turning back to his game.

“Okay…”

***

The weeks that followed were… quiet.

Izuku noticed it first in passing, half-distracted between patrols and lectures, when a familiar name appeared on his screen. No sharp headlines. No insinuations. No carefully worded doubts about his motives or timing.

Then days turned into weeks. And still—nothing.

Japan News Today continued its broadcasts, your voice still calm and professional, but the tone had changed. When Deku appeared now, it was factual. Neutral. Sometimes even… fair. You reported rescues without commentary. You cited sources properly. You didn’t speculate. You didn’t twist.

You didn’t say his name with venom anymore.

Izuku would tell himself it shouldn’t matter. That this was how things were supposed to be. That this was simply you doing your job correctly at last. And yet he found himself watching anyway.

Then a month passed. A full month where you kept your word. And somewhere along the way, the silence you left behind lodged itself firmly in his thoughts.

He’d catch himself wondering what you were doing when you weren’t on air. Whether you still saw him as your favorite hero. Whether you still thought about him the way you had that night—desperate, hopeful, exposed.

Whether you were still waiting.

The realization crept up on him slowly, unwelcome and undeniable: He wanted you to like him. To wait for him. To look for him.

He wanted you.

***

The city lights painted long streaks across his mask as Izuku perched atop the dorm roof, gloved hands gripping the edge. The smell of rain, the hum of traffic, people’s voices— this would usually calm him down. But tonight it only heightened the tension coiling in his chest.

Your words echoed in his mind, your desperation, your honesty, the way your eyes had glimmered with both fear and hope. He’d been so careful, so principled, yet the idea of finally letting himself act—letting himself be for you—sent a thrill through him he wasn’t used to feeling.

He flexed his fingers, the gloves creaking softly, and exhaled. His thoughts teetered between restraint and temptation, duty and desire.

And for the first time since he took this role, he let himself go.

With a flick of his wrist, a dark webline shot out, anchoring to the nearby building. He swung effortlessly through the skyscrappers, droplets of rain hitting his mask with a faster pace as he moved.

He had a direction, a purpose.

Tonight was not about other people, it was about him.

When he finally saw your apartment complex, he shot another black web, landing on the balcony of your apartment with practiced ease.

His mask glinted under the soft glow of the streetlights, eyes scanning for any sign of surveillance or onlookers. Everything clear.

He pressed the spider shaped like button on his chest, turning the camouflage off. He felt a tiny hum of vibration, reminding him of the subtle tech enhancements Katsuki had installed—the incorporated microphones, the motion sensors and the web-cam alerts.

There was no way back from this.

***

The noise outside your room made your ears perch up, then your whole body moved without thinking. You quickly sprinted towards your balcony, the door opening in a hurry, the click of the lock echoing through the night.

You froze in the doorway, spine stiffening, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He turned towards your figure in an instant, spidey-senses buzzing in his ears. He looked almost terrifying in the dim light of the night. The shadows hugged him, the mask hiding his expression but not the quiet confidence in his stance.

“You stayed true,” he murmured, voice low, calm, but threaded with something darker, something possessive. “That… tells me a lot about you.”

Your lips parted slightly, breath hitching. “I… I’m trying,” you whispered, voice small. “I won’t ever lie. I won’t—”

He raised a gloved finger, tilting his head, cutting you off gently but firmly.

“I don’t need words. Actions speak louder.” His eyes, bright behind the mask, lingered on you, and you felt heat bloom in your chest.

Slowly, he stepped closer, deliberately, measuring every movement. The slight rustle of the suit as he shifted made your stomach tighten.

“You like me,” he said, voice almost a whisper, and yet it carried across the small space between you.

“You’re drawn to me. Desperate for me to be here.” His fingers twitched to touch you more, yet showing the faintest sign of his restraint.

“And I’ve been thinking… maybe I like that. Maybe I like seeing you want me, and knowing I could… respond.”

You shivered, heart thudding against your ribs. “I—I do want you,” you admitted softly, almost trembling. “I’ve wanted… this… since the first moment I saw you,” you remind him, using the same words from a month ago.

His chest rose slowly as he inhaled, a deep, steadying breath.

“You’ve been honest,” he said, voice calm, magnetic, almost commanding. “And I… respect that. But you also need to understand—there are boundaries. Rules.”

“But—” you began, reaching instinctively for him.

He stepped closer at the same time—not enough to let you touch him properly, just enough for your hands to brush his suit. The contact was brief, controlled, and it sent a slow coil of heat through your stomach.

“I’m not saying no,” he continued, his tone softening, assuring. “I’m just reminding you that I can’t show you fully who I am.”

“Knowing that,” he added quietly, eyes fixed on yours behind the mask, “I hope you won’t regret choosing to do… this.”

He emphasized the word with a slow, deliberate motion of his hand between you.

You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your stomach. The moment felt fragile, dangerous—but you didn’t care.

“I don’t care,” you whispered, voice firm despite the tremor beneath it. “I want this. I want you.”

The dim apartment light spilled across his figure—and you couldn’t help but stare.

The suit clung to him like a second skin, every line and curve accentuated. His chest was toned and firm, rising and falling with steady, calm breaths. His arms—strong, sculpted, working under the tight material—looked made to hold, to grip.

His legs were long, powerful, perfectly sculpted, and even through the tight fabric you could see the muscles flex with every step. The suit outlined everything, highlighting the disciplined hours of hero training, the strength contained behind that calm exterior.

Your fingers itched, your eyes drank him in, memorizing every curve, every line, the taut confidence of his stance.

“You…” you began, voice trembling with awe and desire, “…you’re perfect. I can’t… I just want you. All of you.”

Your hands moved again, fingers brushing against his chest, tracing the outline of his pecs through the suit. “I’ve never… wanted anyone like this,” you admitted, breath hitching.

A slow, deliberate smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth behind the mask when your hand found his. You slowly stepped back, urging him to come inside your room, and he let you, he followed suit, without resistance.

“You’re… bold,” he said, voice soft but edged with amusement.

“Bold enough to drag me in…” he muses quietly, letting the words linger.

“Yes,” you breathed, stepping closer, pressing against him, letting him feel the urgency in your body.

He inhaled slowly, eyes dark behind the lenses, letting the silence stretch between you like a taut wire. Then, almost imperceptibly, he let out a soft, measured laugh, low and teasing.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice almost a whisper. “If that’s what you want…”

Your hands trembled slightly as they hovered near his chest, fingers brushing the fabric of his suit. Your voice came out quieter than you intended, almost a whisper, but steady enough to carry your meaning.

“C-Can I… kiss you?”

The question hung in the air between you, your pulse thundered in your ears, every nerve alive with anticipation.

Deku froze for a second, mind racing, his own desire raising to the surface. He inhaled, then, after a moment that stretched long enough to make your stomach flutter in anxious hope, he gave a subtle nod.

A small, controlled smile curved beneath his mask. “Alright,” he murmured softly, voice low and gentle.

Your fingers moved instinctively, slowly lifting the edge of his mask just enough to reveal the line of his lips. His eyes stayed locked on yours, green shining through the lenses, calm and magnetic, giving you all the permission you needed.

You leaned in slowly, hesitant, savoring the moment, and pressed your lips against his.

The kiss was soft at first, a careful brush, testing boundaries. His hands stayed at his sides, restrained but ready, his chest rising steadily under your touch.

Your hands clutched his suit, urging him closer, guiding him. “Please…” you breathed, pressing your body against his. “Touch me…”

The soft, restrained control melted from his posture in an instant. His lips parted against yours, soft whimpers escaping from you as he finally gave in. Hands gripping your waist, he pulled you flush against him, body to body.

Your knees almost buckled at the way he bent to deepen the kiss, his figure hovering over you. His tongue traced yours with careful, teasing exploration at first, then with a growing urgency that matched the desperate rhythm of your heartbeat.

You moaned in his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck, lips moving against his, matching the fast pace. With each second that passed, the kissed grew more urgent, desperate, needing him in every way possible. The dirty, wet sounds and your breaths bounced off the wall, echoing in the room.

Feeling heat spread through your body, you carefully backed up, guiding him towards your bed without breaking the kiss. He followed your movements, gloved hands kneading your waist through your thin night gown as you felt the bed frame hitting the back of your knees.

You finally parted from him, looking up.

“Sit down, please,” you asked on a breathy voice.

Deku nodded, sliding onto your bed beside your plushies of him. They looked almost comical now that the real thing—stronger, larger, undeniably alive—was right there.

Your hands rose to his masked face, thumbs brushing over the lips you’d kissed, tracing the swell and redness left from your fevered moments together.

He hummed softly, the vibration through the mask sending warmth into your chest.

“Let me make you feel good, yeah?” You asked with a smile, as you quickly dropped to your knees between his legs.

He stayed still for a heartbeat, then relaxed, letting you guide the moment.

Your hands started roaming over his strong thighs, tracing the taut muscles until your fingers brushed the waistband of his pants.

Slowly, deliberately, you slipped your fingertips under the fabric and tugged it down. He lifted his hips, giving you room, then settled back onto the bed, white lenses locked on yours.

Your hand slid upward, pressing against the black fabric of his briefs. You cupped him, feeling the hardness of his dick straining beneath your palm, teasing him just enough to draw out a soft whimper.

Gently, you lowered your hand, freeing him. His thick, veiny cock sprang into view, tip already leaking with pre-cum. Your mouth watered at the sight, at his grith, eyes following every vein, every curve…

Your gaze flipped to his face, seeing the way his teeth caught his bottom lip, head steady, watching you intently.

“I want to… suck it. Please?” you whispered, hands inching closer in his lap, body leaning forward, heat pooling at the anticipation.

He nodded, and you let out a quiet huff, craving even a hint of his voice.

You moved your attention back towards his aching cock. Your hands wrapped around his aching length, giving a few deliberate pumps, before you stuck out your tongue, starting to lick all over his leaking tip, tasting the saltiness. He shifted under your touch, chest heaving faster.

He let out a guttural moan when you finally took him in your mouth, slowly starting to move down his length, guiding him to the back of your throat.

You began to bob your head and swirl your tongue, exploring every ridge and vein, welcoming him deeper into your wet heat. Every movement was a promise, every sound a spark that pulled him closer to the edge.

Your eyes involuntarily closed at the feeling of him twitching in your mouth, making you eager to bring him close to the edge.

His grunts and moans became louder now, hips bucking forward, watching how you struggle to keep up the pace, yet refuse to stop your motions. Neither the tears prickling at your eyes nor the burning sensation of your throat stopped you to reach your goal.

When his hips started shaking and his breath became irregular you sped up your movements, pushing him towards the edge.

He came with a loud, fractured moan, the sound tearing straight through you and settling low in your stomach. The sensation followed immediately after—hot, sudden, overwhelming—as he spilled down your throat, leaving you breathless, eyes watering.

Still, you didn’t stop.

You swallowed every drop of cum, continuing to suck him dry until his large, gloved hand tangled hard in your hair, harshly pulling at the strands to get you off of him.

Your chest heaved, sweat glistened on your temples and chest. Your cheeks were flushed, lips all wet with spit and cum, as you stared up at him with half lidded eyes.

“Felt good?” He asked, voice low, breathy. “…sucking me off with the same mouth you used to talk trash about me?” he still tried keeping his composure even if his orgasm left him a total wreck.

You should have felt shame at his words, should have crawled into a ditch and hid there forever, but all you could focus on was his voice.

His real voice.

Loud and clear.

Without the voice modulator, without the mask. His real voice… It was soft, gentle, not very deep, almost boyish and yet so sexy and so fucking addicting, it made your thighs brush together and your heart skip a beat.

“Yes… uh… can you move back on the bed?” You asked impatient, feeling the wettness stick to your underwear as you looked at him.

He quickly looked at your neatly made bed, then at his boots.

“I might get your sheets dirty—“

“Fuck the sheets, move back, please,” you were practically begging and he let out a small laugh, but still complied to your request.

He moved his body on your mattress, until his was back was pressed against the wooden headboard, sitting prettily with his cock hanging out from his briefs, pants dragged around his muscular thighs, sweat and cum forming a sticky mess.

You slipped on the bed, ignoring the stinging pain of your knees as you crawled towards him and settled in his lap.

For a second, you just looked at him, analyzing every visible part of him. His rosy lips, his strong jawline, then going down over his v-line, following the veins that lead to his groin. Your gaze landed on his strong thighs, frowning at the small clusters of freckles dusted over his scarred skin.

“You have freckles?” You asked surprised as you studied the pattern. “You have them on your face too?”

“Yes, and other parts,” he added with a smile, knowing his response will stir you up.

And it did.

You groaned loudly, fingers gripping the material of his suit, head falling against his strong chest.

“You are gonna kill me,” you almost cried, and he let out a laugh, sending a warm feeling through your body.

“I wouldn’t even have guessed you liked me this much,” he teased and looked back up at him.

“You have no idea…” you sigh. “Let me show you, yeah?”

Your fingers quickly reached the hem of your night gawn, pulling it over your head in a swift motion and throwing it on the floor.

His lips parted then closed, remining quiet as he studied your exposed chest. He followed the swell of your breasts, the small beads of sweat forming between them and your hard, sensitive nipples.

You smiled as you felt the tip of his dick hit your stomach. You reached down to wrap it around him again with one hand while the other went to take one of his and place it on your chest.

“You like them?” you tease lightly as you give his cock a few pumps, feeling his large hand squeezing the soft flesh of your breast.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

“Ride me,” he added suddenly, taking you by suprise.

“R-ride?” you stammered, taken aback by his request.

He seemed displeased with how long it took you to comply, so he took matters into his hands. He trailed his fingers down until they reached the hem of your underwear.

In a second you hear the sound of clothing ripping, and when you look down, you see the material of your panties in half, exposing your drooling core to him.

“Deku— what—“

“Shh, it’s okay, you were taking too long,” he explains softly as his hands move to your hips, fingers digging in your flesh. He shifted you, guiding you until you were perfectly above his aching cock, then slowly let you sink on it.

You didn’t try to wiggle away from his touch, stomach twisting in anticipation as your slippery, wet cunt finally made contact with his leaking tip, making you let out a gasp.

Your hands found his broad shoulders as you let him move you however he pleased.

“You seem too wet and ready for me,” he mused watching how his dick slipped between your wet folds with ease. “What were you doing before I came?” He asked on a serious note, eyes leaving your form and skimming over your room.

“Ah— Mhm!” You moaned loudly at the feeling of his dick stretching you out, head thrown back, mouth parting wide, failing to give him a reply.

“Oh,” he smiles as his gaze lands on a used dildo that was clumsily thrown behind your nightstand.

“Hmm… tell me,” he murmured, voice low, eyes studying your reaction like a lab report behind the lenses. “Is my dick better than the toy you were using?” His cock was buried inside you, hips shifting slightly as he tested your response, watching every flicker of your expression, every shiver that ran through you.

“Yes! Yes!” You nodded desperately, as he started moving you up and down, walls contracting and relaxing with each motion.

He grunts in response as he bucks into you.

“Ah!” You cry out, feeling the warmth coil in your stomach.

His moderate pace changed with each passing second, turning it into something faster, deeper, bruising your sweet spot, making your body arch into him, tits bouncing deliciously as you become a moaning and whimpering mess.

“I like you,” you babbled, too fucked out too even register your words.

“Mhm,” he mused quietly, focusing on his movements, brows furrowed behind his mask.

“Deku—Ah!”

“ I like you… I like you so m-much—“ you sniffed and he clicked his tongue.

“I get it—I get it. Just be quiet now,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips as he bounced you against him, irritation and desire mixing in every movement.

“But—“ you were cut off by something being shoved in your mouth, soon realizing it was your own underwear.

“Just keep quiet for me, okay? I—shit—can’t focus with you like this,” he groaned, a low, breathy sound escaping him as your walls clenched around him.

“Fuck,” he bit out, teeth catching his lip as his fingers anchored deep into your hips.

The pressure snapped something in you.

Your body convulsed as he hit that sensitive spot again and again, the sensation sharp and overwhelming. Your fingers clawing into his shoulders as you tried (and failed) to stay quiet. The sound that left you was muffled, broken, nothing you could control.

The tension coiled tight in your stomach, fast and familiar.

Your hands pressed against his chest as your orgasm tore through you, heat flooding your body all at once. Your eyes rolled back, your muscles giving in as you went slack against him, breathless and spent.

He followed almost immediately.

A strained groan tore from his throat as his body tensed beneath you, veins standing out along his neck. His grip tightened reflexively as he came, hips jerking once before stilling, his cock twitching inside you as he spilled with a shuddering breath.

Then—nothing. Just the sound of your breathing, uneven and shaking.

You stayed like that for a moment, bodies pressed together, neither of you moving, the room filled only with the quiet aftermath and the faint hum of the city outside.

That was when the buzz sounded.

Soft at first—almost easy to miss—but close.

His body jolted slightly, the reality snapping back into him as the sound came again, sharper this time.

Deku instantly recogned the sound and then— it hit him: in the heat of the moment, you must have pressed something on his chest. Something you shouldn’t have.

Before he could even do anything about it, a voice blasted through his in-ear, scaring you and making him groan.

“DEKU YOU FUCKING NERD—TURN YOUR FUCKING MIC OFF NEXT TIME!”