[A/N: Do not put yourself in Masarus shoes. Unless you enjoy that kind of this. This is Netori not Netorare which I find disgusting. ]

They stayed there for hours, the arcade's bright lights eventually dimming as the evening crowd began to thin out. Izuku leaned against a wall near the claw machines, casually scrolling his phone while the girls from earlier hovered nearby. By the time they all decided to leave, he had all three of their numbers saved in his phone—though he had zero intention of ever calling them.

Why? Simple.

They weren't even Canon. And in his mind, that meant they didn't matter to his story.

Eventually, everyone split off, heading back to their homes.

Izuku and Katsuki ended up walking side-by-side in awkward silence, the sound of their sneakers scuffing against the pavement the only thing filling the air.

Why was Izuku putting himself through this? Why willingly walk with someone who looked like they were two seconds away from either picking a fight or storming off?

Easy.

He wanted to see Mitsuki.

What other reason could possibly justify walking around with a time bomb.

After several minutes, they finally arrived at the Bakugo residence. The lights inside were warm and soft, spilling faintly through the curtains. As they stepped inside, the very first thing Izuku saw made his lips twitch upward.

Mitsuki Bakugo was bent over in the living room, her toned back arched, rummaging under the couch for something. Her short blonde hair fell just enough to frame her face, and the position left… well, nothing to the imagination.

Izuku didn't even try to hide where his eyes went.

For some reason, Katsuki didn't announce their arrival to his mom. Maybe he didn't care, maybe he was too tired, or maybe he was just that oblivious.

Either way, he stomped past without so much as a "hey," ignoring the fact that Izuku was clearly looking.

Mitsuki pulled a small battery out from under the couch with a victorious hum, then stood upright. She turned around—only for her eyes to land on Izuku standing there next to her son.

A faint blush crossed her cheeks before she quickly masked it with a glare. Without a word, she marched over to Katsuki, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him into the other room.

"Why didn't you say you were bringing a friend? What if I was naked!?" she hissed in a low but furious tone.

"Who cares, you're an old hag anyway," Katsuki shot back, which only made her twist his ear harder.

"Ahh! Okay, I'm sorry, ma!" he yelped, wincing in pain.

Satisfied, she let go, smoothing her hair and taking a slow breath before walking back to the living room.

"Hi, Izuku, what a surprise. Didn't expect you here," she said, stepping forward and giving him a warm, friendly hug.

"Yeah… I can tell," Izuku replied with a smirk.

"So, how long do you plan on staying?" she asked casually, but there was a subtle, playful edge in her tone.

"As long as Kacchan can handle," he said smoothly.

She chuckled, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Guess you won't be here that long."

Katsuki, still muttering under his breath, stomped upstairs with his ear glowing red. The slam of his bedroom door echoed through the house.

The moment it shut, Izuku's entire demeanor shifted. The polite guest mask vanished, replaced by something far more direct and predatory. In two steps, he closed the distance and pinned her against the wall, his palm flat beside her head.

"You really know how to tease a guy, huh, Mitsuki?" he said, tilting her chin up so their eyes locked.

Her smirk widened, unflinching. "And how do you think I get Masaru to do whatever I want? Let's just say…" her voice lowered, "I'm a woman who knows how to pull anything out of a man."

Izuku's chuckle was low, almost dangerous. "Oh really…?"

Mitsuki didn't break eye contact for a second, her smirk as sharp as ever.

Izuku leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against her ear. "You talk a lot of game… but I wonder if you can handle it when someone plays back."

Her eyebrow arched. "Oh? Is that supposed to be a challenge, kid?"

"Not a challenge…" he murmured, his voice slow and deliberate, "just a preview."

Without warning, his hand slid lower from her chin, down the curve of her side, until his fingers teasingly grazed the edge of her chest. His thumb rested just under the fabric while his index finger lazily circled over her breast, the motion slow and deliberate.

Mitsuki's breath hitched—not enough to give him full satisfaction, but enough that he caught it.

"Bold," she said, her tone still playful but laced with something warmer. "You do know I could scream right now, right?"

He smirked. "You won't."

Her lips curved upward. "And why's that?"

"Because…" he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, "you're enjoying this way too much."

She chuckled, not denying it, and tilted her head slightly so her lips were closer to his ear. "Careful, Izuku. If you keep poking the tiger, you might just get bitten."

Izuku almost cringed. ' She probably got that quote from a Facebook post. What Era is she even a apart of again. Boomer maybe? I'm not sure ' he thought.

"Maybe I'm counting on it," he said, still circling his finger slowly before finally pulling his hand away—leaving nothing but the lingering heat between them.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, tension thick enough to cut with a knife, before Mitsuki smirked again and stepped past him as if nothing happened.

Clearly thinking she had the last word, but Izuku didn't move.

Instead, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, spinning her toward the couch.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but before she could say a word, he pushed her down onto the cushions. The movement was quick—controlled—but firm enough to send a clear message.

In one smooth motion, Izuku stepped forward and braced his hands on either side of her, leaning in so their faces were inches apart.

"You like playing games, Mitsuki?"he asked, his tone calm but edged with a quiet authority.

Her smirk returned, though softer now, her breathing just a little heavier. "Yeah why?" She asked her cheeks turning pink a bit .

He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "I was just asking…" His eyes scanned her face slowly.

She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her composure, but he noticed the faint shift in her expression—the small tell that she was, in fact, just a little thrown off.

Izuku's gaze dipped briefly, deliberately, before returning to hers. "Let's see how long you'll last" he said.

Mitsuki opened her mouth to fire back, but a sudden creak from upstairs caught both their attention.

Katsuki's door opening.

Her eyes flickered with alarm for just a split second, and Izuku saw it. He leaned in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Looks like you're out of time."

Katsuki's footsteps started down the hall.

With a light tap on his chest—half warning, half surrender—Mitsuki gave him the signal to move.

Izuku straightened up, stepping back with a slow smirk. "Guess that's my win."

Mitsuki's heart was pounding against her ribs, the rush of adrenaline mixing with something she hadn't felt in years. She kept her breathing steady, hiding it behind that sharp, confident expression she wore so well.

Katsuki's footsteps grew louder until he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He passed right between them, heading for the kitchen without so much as a glance, muttering something about being hungry.

The moment his back was turned, Mitsuki's eyes cut toward Izuku—a sharp glare that lasted only a second before the faintest curl of a smile crept onto her lips. That smile wasn't sweet. It was dangerous.

She leaned in just enough for only him to hear. "Let's go to my room. And we'll play an even better game."

Izuku's smirk deepened. "Are you willing to risk it?" His tone was low, smooth, and far too confident.

Her grin widened, eyes glinting with challenge. "As long as I get to see you beg in desperation."

Izuku chuckled under his breath, tilting his head as if weighing the offer, though they both knew he'd already decided. "Well then…" His voice dipped an octave lower. "…lead the way."

Without another word, Mitsuki turned on her heel, hips swaying just a touch more than usual, glancing back once to make sure he was following.

Izuku did—his smirk never leaving his face.

TO BE CONTINUED