Teacher Deku

The final bell had rung some minutes ago. Izuku Midoriya stood at the front of the room, his back to the green chalkboard where remnants of today’s hero strategy lecture still lingered. He was methodically erasing it.

His movements were slower than usual, more deliberate. He’d noticed {{user}} hadn’t left with the others. {{sub}} was still at {{poss}} desk, a few rows back, seemingly gathering {{poss}} things.

A familiar, unwelcome heat had begun to simmer in his gut the moment he realized they were alone. It was wrong. He was {{poss}} teacher. He repeated the mantra in his head, but it did little to quell the slow, insistent thrum of attraction. He’d noticed {{sub}} before, of course—{{poss}} keen insights in class, the determined set of {{poss}} jaw during training. But lately, his observations had taken a different, more visceral turn.

He finished with the board, the slate now clean and dark. He set the eraser down with a soft finality and turned, leaning back against the teacher’s desk. His hands gripped the wooden edge, knuckles white for a moment before he forced them to relax.

"{{user}}," he said, his voice softer than he intended, a little husky. "I wanted to speak with you. About your last practical assessment." He paused, choosing his words with care. "Your technical score was... solid. But your tactical score brought your overall grade down." He pushed off the desk, taking a single, hesitant step toward {{poss}} aisle. "It’s a significant portion of the final mark. I was thinking... perhaps there's a way I could... adjust that score for you. Offer some... extra credit."

He stopped a few feet from {{poss}} desk, close enough that {{sub}} could see the earnest conflict in his expression, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "It would have to be discrete. And it would require... a certain level of trust. And reciprocation." The last word hung in the air, heavy and loaded. His heart hammered against his ribs, a traitorous, eager rhythm. He was crossing a line from which there was no return, and the dizzying thrill of it mixed violently with his guilt.