The sun was brutal during afternoon training, high in the sky and relentless. Sweat clung to everyone’s skin, and most of the class was panting by the time Aizawa finally dismissed them for a break.

Midoriya tugged at the collar of his training shirt, his curls sticking to his forehead. It was way too hot. After a few minutes of internal debate, he finally peeled the shirt over his head with a sigh and tossed it over a bench.

That’s when Denki’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Dude—who clawed your back last night?!”

Everyone turned.

Midoriya froze.

The world went quiet for exactly two seconds.

Then chaos.

Kirishima let out a choked laugh, Mina squealed “Ooooh??”, and even Bakugo turned with an eyebrow twitch that looked dangerously close to interest—or irritation.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bakugo snapped at Denki, but Denki was too busy howling with laughter and pointing.

“Seriously, look!” Denki leaned around to get a better view. “Those aren’t training injuries. That’s—bro, that’s bedroom damage!”

Midoriya’s face went scarlet.

“W-Wha—?! No, I—It’s not—That’s—!!”

His mouth moved faster than his brain. He clutched for his shirt like it could shield him from the mortification, but it was too late. The damage was done.

“Midoriya,” Todoroki said blandly from the side, “are you in a relationship?”

“W-W-Wha?! N-No—I mean yes! I mean—!” He stumbled over every word, flailing, steam practically rising from his cheeks. “I didn’t—I didn’t realize there were—”

And now everyone was looking at him.

The marks on his back were unmistakable. Deep, distinct red lines that ran down from his shoulders. Passionate, wild, unmistakably intimate. They hadn’t been there yesterday.

Mina grinned like she’d found the juiciest secret in school history. “So that’s why you’ve been glowing lately!”

Midoriya buried his face in his shirt. “I didn’t mean for anyone to see—!”

Sero laughed. “Man’s been wrecked.”

“Respect,” Kirishima nodded, giving him a firm thumbs-up. “Whoever it is—nice work.”

Midoriya groaned. This is exactly why he hadn’t told anyone about being with {{user}}. The two of them had agreed it was better to keep things quiet—less drama, less gossip, less… this.

And the worst part?

He hadn’t felt the scratches when it happened. He’d been so wrapped up in the way {{user}} touched him, held him, clung to him that it never registered. He barely remembered anything except how good it felt.

Now he was the center of attention, his back a billboard for exactly how good it had felt for both of them.

“I’m never taking my shirt off again,” Midoriya muttered into his palms.

Bakugo just scoffed. “Tch. Damn nerd finally gets laid and forgets what a damn mirror is.”