in which midoriya expects this ‘relationship’ to be dead after what he did—but your soft spot said otherwise.
cw: edging (m receiving), handjob, blowjob, teasing, facial, cursing, degrading +18(mdni)
It was Friday, at exactly 1:47pm, a few minutes after lunch ended. Well, not a few, almost 2 hours and you were absolutely livid. Why exactly?
You checked your phone expecting to see a flurry of apologies. No messages. No missed calls. Not even a lazy apology or some exclamation-ridden excuse.
A hard breath slipped from your nose as you stood. You weren’t going to cause drama, slamming into his class and demanding why he had stood you up, you weren’t even going to ball tears in your room. A boy—no a pet—didn’t deserve such attention from you.
But the irritation within you bubbled steadily, just enough for your glossed lips to curl as you picked up the bag of food you hand prepared yourself and threw it inside.
Satisfying, in the most unfulfilling way.
The hallway was loud when you turned to go to your destined class. Midoriya’s voice echoed off the walls—soft, warm, that boyish excitement that made people like him. Laughter scattered like marbles, and you spotted him too easily. In the center of the hallway, sweat clinging to his brow. His arm, well one arm were too full—of joy, of forgetfulness, of Uraraka.
The other was clearly in a bright blue sling, his wrist seemingly injured.
The entire class seemed bubbly, talking animatedly among each other about wherever they were in their hero gear. She was the loudest, recounting a move she fumbled on the training sights in glee.
And then—without warning—Uraraka jumped onto Midoriya’s back with a bubbly squeal. He nearly lost balance, red in the face, trying to steady both of them.
Your eyes narrowed for a brief second.
The same boy who couldn’t be bothered to send a single message was here, letting someone cling to him like a baby to its mother. Sweaty and smiling. Joking around like he hadn’t promised you a part of his day.
But you didn’t say anything.
You didn’t give yourself the luxury of expression. You adjusted your grip on your bag, straightened your posture, and kept walking. Your heels echoed against the tile as you passed through them. A few of them—Mineta, Kaminari, even Bakugo—stiffened at your presence and instinctively stepped aside, parting like the Red sea.
You didn’t look at him. Not once. Let him feel your presence, let it haunt him.
Midoriya turned at the movement and froze, caught mid-laugh, hand still holding Uraraka’s knee behind him. His smile died quickly, eyes going wide.
You didn’t break stride. And by the time he remembered—
“Crap.” He whispered, voice tight. “Lunch.”
He shifted forward, peeling Uraraka off his back gently but urgently. “Wait—I had lunch plans—I forgot—”
Iida blinked. “With who? What are you—”
But Midoriya was already stepping forward, heart pounding, searching down the hall. Gone were you, too far to catch without running. He cursed under his breath, fingers twitching like he wanted to grab at the moment and rewind it. To say wait, to say he’s sorry, to explain, to—
He didn’t enjoy his entire day like earlier. He pondered nervously during class, how would he explain himself? You hated excuses—that’s one thing. And he’s been drawing out the chance to apologise by the second. It was currently 7pm, in the common room of the dorms—a blur of voices and plates and clinking utensils. Midoriya sat between Uraraka and Iida, pushing his curry rice around while his mind chewed through imaginary texts he hadn’t sent.
“You can yell at me, if that helps.”
But nothing he could type would be enough. Not for a girl who didn’t just plan a lunch, but curated it. Not for a girl who had given him gifts that cost more than most students’ scholarships. Your silence didn’t just mean disappointment to him—meant he’d become something to file under “not worth the reminder.”
“Alright,” he muttered, standing. “Gonna call it early.”
“Midoriya you’ve seemed fidgety ever since we got back from training. As your friend and class president, what’s the matter? Is it your arm?” Iida asked.
All he did was smile, strained tight, and shook his hand, treading to the dustbin. He tossed what remained of his dinner, rice half-eaten, and waved a vague goodnight before trudging off alone. His fingers trembled around his phone as he walked, screen lighting up again and again as if the universe was mocking him. Only weather alerts, news updates and this stupid widget app—Nothing from you.
By the time he reached his dorm, he was exhausted from trying to think of what to say to what didn’t have a shape. He pushed open the door—
—and stopped dead. There, curled into the black leather of his desk chair, you sat idly. Legs crossed, body leaned back like you’d been there for hours, like this was your chair, your room, yours.
A tight, long-sleeved black shirt hugged your arms, sleeves pulled neatly over your wrists. Shorts, ridiculously tight and short, cut high over your thighs, paired with tall cotton socks. No shoes adorned your feet but that wasn’t the biggest issue. You were in his dorm—not even expressing the faintest glint of guilt for breaking in, sitting there like you owned everything.
“You look comfortable today, Izuku—except for the arm.” you said coolly, your voice steel.
He stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. The air thickened with tension so fast it felt like a wire stretching tight between you. You rolled your eyes. Always a deer caught in the headlights, pretending to be baffled.
“Oh, calm down. I’m not here to kill you.” You stood slowly, brushing invisible dust from the chair as if that had offended you more than anything else. Irritation, pure and practiced, carved into every movement you made.
“Seriously—how… how did you get in?” he asked, still stiff, voice unsure. “My room’s pretty high up—”
You smiled, dry as the air between them.
“I flew in. Duh.” Sarcasm dripped off every syllable, but you didn’t elaborate. You never did, it was always a secret.
Midoriya stared at you for a long moment before moving forward, stepping in, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. He flopped onto the edge of his bed, body heavy with exhaustion and regret. He peered up at your motionless body, thinking.
You looked back but not in the way you used to look at him. Your eyes are usually playful, cunning and unpredictable, now? All you felt was displayed proudly on your face. Disappointment, anger—annoyance.
No one spoke for a minute. The silence this time wasn’t as peaceful. It was charged. It sat between you two like a thirdwheel , loud in its restraint. You didn’t need to ask why. The weight of his guilt was doing it for you already.
“Midoriya, you know the type of person I am.” You said, swallowing harshly, “ You missed lunch. You missed my lunch.”
He stopped. “I know. I swear I know. I felt awful the second I realised—“
“And yet no message,” you went on, still motionless. “No excuse. Not even a lie, Midoriya. I was disappointed and it takes a lot to disappoint me.”
“Were you?” you snapped. “Because I didn’t hear from you at all. But it’s fine, at least I fed the rats of UA with the food I carefully prepared this morning myself. At least they never pick and choose—they are thankful for what’s given to them.”
So much for no drama earlier today.
You stepped closer, your eyes narrowed, a cool fire lit beneath them.
He looked sheepish. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you really sorry? Because with all the giggles you had with Uraraka today, you seemed perfectly content.” You muttered lowly, emphasising on the Uraraka part. His breathe hitched and he felt a part of him crack.
“That’s just my friend—I swear I had so much—
“I don’t care! I don’t care if she’s your friend or not or you broke your arm, was it so hard to inform me that you weren’t available?” You reached out, took his available wrist in his hand, where the silver bracelet you gifted dangled with your initials.
“You forgot about me today,” you murmured, voice quieter now. “But you wore what I gave you.”
“I didn’t forget about you,” he whispered. “Just the time.” That startled a tiny breath of laughter from you.
“I hate that I waited for you,” you continued. “I don’t wait for anyone, Midoriya. I don’t. Not for my mother. Not for my guards. Not for people who call themselves royalty. But you? You vanish for half a day and I still think you’ll come. I sat there for almost 2 hours—thats the most patience I’ve held.”
“I wanted to spend time with you.” he said softly.
Your eyes flicked down, kissing your teeth. “Don’t make me want things I can’t have. I may be bossy but I know my limits, if you don’t agree to this—just say so so I can find someone else who actually respects the rules I set out for them.”
There it was—unguarded emotion. For a second, the walls fell a tiny bit.
He looked at you gently, pleading. “You already have me. I’m genuinely so sorry and I’ll do anything to show that. Please…just don’t give up on this.”
You blinked. Your body stilled, no breath, no twitch of your lips. Just silence.
He continued, quietly, “I mean—I’m not good at this odd relationship we have. You know that. I’m… not built for mind games or knowing what girls want me to say. But I want to try, I want to be no—I am yours fully. Today was a mistake, one that I am going to learn from moving forward.”
“You’re earnest,” you muttered, almost annoyed.
You leaned closer to him, your body slightly towering over his perched one and glared into his eyes—then your expression softened gradually. As much as you hated it, he was—“ You know you’ll have to make it up to me somehow.”
He nods, “I know. And I want to.”
“Show me.” You smirked. Midoriya’s jaw tensed. He shifted closer, hand brushing along the outside of your thigh. His fingers trailed upward, inching toward the hem of your shorts, slow enough.
A sharp smack to the back of his hand made him flinch.
You shook your head. “Oh, no. You don’t get to get off while making it up to me. That defeats the point.” He lowered his hand, throat dry. He stared for a moment lost.
Then slowly and quietly, he shifted off the bed. His knees hit the floor.
He lowered his head until his forehead touched the cold wood of the floor, hands flat against the carpet, body bent.
“Forgive me,” he murmured.
You watched him, lips parted slightly. His posture wasn’t performative. It wasn’t flashy or begging for pity. It was reverent and honest. He was learning. Your expression softened. Not by much, but just enough. Your fingers reached out, brushing against his curls, and you exhaled, a faint breath of amusement breaking through the tension.
“I do love when people kneel,” you said with a small smile, half-hidden. “It’s very… grounding.”
He didn’t move. You sat on the bed, legs parting to rest on either side of one of his shoulders and his breath caught.
“Look at me.” His eyes lifted, green and wide and heavy with nerves. Your legs framed his jaw. His body was still rigid, but his face told you everything—regret, restraint, and something more vulnerable. You slid a hand along his cheek, fingers brushing his jawline.
“I should make you stay there all night,” you muttered.
“Wouldn’t stop me,” he whispered.
You bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead—just above the fresh bandage from today—lips cold.
Then, without a word, you tugged him upward. Midoriya followed your pull, moving fluidly until he laid back, propped up on his soft pillows. You sat on your knees, your manicured fingers skimming the edge of the mattress, your lips parted slightly as your eyes tracked his form—settling at the bandaged wrist that rested gently against his side.
Your voice, low and laced with curiosity, slid into the space between you two.
He looked over at you and offered a tired smile, though his eyes still held the problems of the day. “Boulder. Almost fell on me. I dodged just in time—well, kind of. Ended up fracturing my wrist when I hit the ground wrong.”
Your brows lifted slightly, expression unreadable. Then, with an eerie sort of calm, you reached out and cradled his injured arm in your hands like it was made of glass. Your fingers were icy but soft as they slid up to the edge of the wrap. You leaned in and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss on the outside of the bandage.
“You’re reckless,” you murmured, not looking at him as your lips brushed his skin again. Then, you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, pupils dilated. “It makes sense considering you forgot our lunch today.”
Midoriya flinched, a sliver of guilt flashing across his face. “And I begged for forgiveness—“
You cut him off with a sharp inhale and a faint, controlled smile, pursing your lips in mock consideration.
“I shouldn’t be here at all, you know.” Your voice dropped to something more teasing. “But… you’ve had a long, painful day.” You lifted a hand and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “So I’ll do something very special. Just this once.”
He blinked rapidly. “Special?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you rose slowly, deliberately, and with the kind of grace that made his mouth go dry. You slid up next to him on the bed, knees settling over either side of his hips. Your palms flatted over his chest as you leaned closer, your lotion harbouring a soft but intoxicating smell.
“Pick a spot on me,” you whispered, your lips barely an inch from his.
His eyes widened instantly, darting in pure panic between your face, neck, the slow curve of your waist, and lower—too low. His breath caught when his gaze momentarily faltered between your legs before he shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, flustered beyond belief.
“Anywhere. I’ll let you. But you’d better choose before I change my mind.” You smirk deepened. You could feel his pulse race beneath you.
“M—My… your mouth,” he said finally, voice small and cracking.
“Good boy,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear.
You leaned in and kissed his forehead. Once, then again. You moved lower—his cheek, then the other, soft, lingering. And finally, your lips found his. Light. Slow. Just a whisper of pressure, as though you were testing how much he could handle.
You pulled back slightly, your noses still touching, and stared into his eyes. “You’re shaking,” You didn’t wait for an answer.
Your lips dropped again, this time to the underside of his jaw—then his neck. You found a spot just behind his ear that made his breath hitch and hovered there, biting gently. When you felt him tense further—the telltale signs of his dick tented right against your ass, you chuckled low in your throat.
“So sensitive Izuku,” You giggled in his ear.
You pressed lower, kissing down his throat, his collarbone, and then—you paused, resting your chin just above the hem of his shirt.
“You always get so nervous when I’m nice to you,” you mused, lips brushing the edge of his shirtline.
“How can’t I?” he mumbled in a haze.
Then your fingers toyed lightly with the waistband of his pants, just the elastic, as if weighing a decision. You glanced up at him, your eyes dark with amusement. “You trust me, don’t you?”
He nodded. It was barely perceptible.
You leaned in and bit playfully at the waistband, not pulling—just grazing your teeth along the fabric, enough for him to twitch. His breath left him in a staggered exhale. Then you dipped lower, dragging the flat of your tongue along the sharp cut of his v-line—slow and hot and deliberate.
His hand flew to his mouth.
A choked sound slipped past his lips, half-formed, feral in the back of his throat—and at that exact moment—footsteps.
“Deku?” Uraraka’s voice rang through the door, light and concerned. “Hey, we just wanted to see if you were okay.”
Midoriya’s soul nearly left his body.
“We were gonna grab snacks,” came Tsuyu’s calm voice. “Do you want us to bring you anything? Or maybe come in and cheer you up for a bit?”
Your tongue flicked again—this time even slower, bolder—like a threat disguised as affection. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, squeezing his eyes shut as his body arched slightly against the bed.
“I—I’m good!” he called out hoarsely, forcing a smile into his voice. “Just gonna—just gonna sleep it off!”
You looked up at him with mock innocence, eyes gleaming.
“Okay! Let us know if you need anything, alright?” Uraraka called.
“Feel better soon, Midoriya,” Tsuyu added. He didn’t move until he heard their footsteps finally retreating down the hallway.
Midoriya waited a beat longer before letting out a strangled sigh and collapsing back into the mattress, utterly drained from the effort of not embarrassing himself in front of half the dorm.
Your laugh was low and husky against his skin, sin wrapped in amusement. “You actually kept it together.”
Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants.
“Let’s get you more comfortable, yeah?”
Slowly, teasingly, you began tugging them down—his pants and underwear at once—inch by inch, like you were unwrapping something precious and fragile. Momentarily, his full length sprang up and the voice in your mind was impressed. His dick was wow, even your parietal lobe couldn’t work out his exact measurements—but you knew—this was big.You pressed another kiss to his lower abdomen, then murmured,
“You won’t forget again.”
Your fingers curled around him slowly—deliberately—like you had all the time in the world and every intention to savor it.
Midoriya shuddered. Your gaze flicked up to watch his face: his lashes fluttering, his jaw clenched tight, and that familiar, adorable flush creeping over his cheeks. You moved a little closer, your hair brushing against his thighs.
You pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along his length, languid. The contact was light, teasing, and devastating. You hummed quietly, almost in glee, as his cock gave a faint twitch under the movement. His tip leaked thick globs of precum and your wet muscle darts out to lick at it, tasting the hint of saltiness and fruit?
Your glossed lips wrap themselves around his tip, sucking lightly, noting the way his voice goes up an octave and the trembles in his abdomen increase. Midoriya’s hand slipped to the back of your neck—hesitant at first, but desperate for something to ground himself. His other hand hovered over his mouth, trying—failing—to hold back the sound that nearly broke from him when you licked a slow line from the base afterwards and back to his tip, swirling.
Your grip adjusted on the base, pace measured and maddening. Your warm mouth took him in deeper, inch by inch, and he felt his mind start to blur around the edges—heat curling in his gut, tension tightening in his core like a bowstring ready to snap.
You moved rhythmically now—mouth and hand working in tandem, perfectly in control. The moan of satisfaction you let out as you felt him throb in your mouth made his head fall back against the pillow. He was unraveling—completely, helplessly unraveling—and you were thriving in it.
The pressure of his fingers at the back of your neck grew just slightly—pleading, shaky. You smiled inwardly against him, removing yourself, just your hand stroking slow and casual. A dribble of spit ran down your chin but you still looked so, so addicting.
“Look at yourself, ready to blow your load so early,”You murmured between slow motions, voice husky and low.
Midoriya let out a broken sound behind his hand. You just looked up at him again with dark, heavy-lidded eyes—utterly calm, utterly in control—as you let go of his twitching length, more precum escaping and laid your head on one of his sculpted thighs, pouting mockingly.
“I want to help you, I really do but…do you really deserve it Izuku?” You asked, darting a playful lick on his tip.
He breathed, almost a whimper. “P-please…”
“Please what?” you asked softly. You didn’t look up yet, just letting your breath fan warmly against his skin. “Use your words, darling.”
He bit down on the side of his finger, trying to compose himself. Failing completely.
“I c–can’t,” he whispered. “Please… I—don’t stop, I c-can’t take it…”
His voice cracked, and your heart stuttered for just a moment. You lifted your head slightly, hand teasing a pulsing vein then you grinned.
“You’re so polite when you’re desperate.” His hips trembled. A strangled noise escaped him—muffled again by his palm, but raw and pleading. Your name was a prayer and a warning all at once. “Please, I—please let me cum…”
You take him fully in your mouth, the tip of his cock kissing the back of your throat as you suck him slowly all the way. Your throat bulged as you moved your head back and forth, spit flying everywhere but he didn’t care, not when you were making him feel so good. He knew he shouldn’t disturb your focus, or touch you at all, you were still angry.
But the nasty, wet sounds that came from you as you deepthroat him, the slightest gag you had when he touched your uvula once and help him so, the single trickle of a tear down your right eye, it was all so sexy. His fingers crept slowly behind your head, hesitant at first—almost like he was afraid to touch you too boldly. You didn’t pause—mouth continuing the pleasure.
His fingers slipped deeper into your hair.
You felt it then: the faint pressure. A gentle tug. Not forceful, but firm—needful. Your eyes flicked upward just as his hand pressed you further down. A small, muffled sound of surprise escaped your throat, not in protest, but curiosity. Your lashes fluttered, and for a moment, your pace faltered.
Midoriya’s breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His hand trembled where it gripped your hair, like even he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing—just lost in the moment, drowning in sensation. His hips bound forward into you, and you choked, shocked, then relaxed your throat as he thrusts, chasing his pleasure.
So… he could be bold, after all.
You moan lowly, letting the vibration travel between them—rewarding him, encouraging him. Then you resumed, your tongue swirling, deliberately drawing out every whine you could feel rolling through his covered mouth.
His fingers tightened, and he slows, pulling you off by a grip in your hair as he visibly twitches, then erupts. His thick cum doesn’t land where he expects it though. It streaks in wild spurts over your cleavage and face. A small, involuntary gasp leaves the both of you. All you can do is take it.
You exhale slowly, eyes fluttering shut for until it reduces to oozes. Jizz clings to your skin, trailing like heat down the curve of your face. You draw two fingers across your cheekbone, dragging through the moisture like you’re savoring the weight of it. It glistens faintly in the low light—evidence of how deeply he’s satisfied.
Your fingers pause near your lips. With slow, deliberate movements, you bring them to your mouth. A flick of your tongue—measured, sensual. You hum softly, letting him watch the way your lips close around the taste of heat and control, the tension in the air almost magnetic.
When you open your eyes again, they’re darker.
He’s watching you with wide, dazed eyes, his chest rising fast, lips parted like he’s forgotten how to breathe.
“I am s—so,” He stutters but you lean forward.
Your hand finds the side of his face, firm but gentle, and you tilt his head just enough to bring your mouth to his. You kiss him—slow and full and deep—until he melts into you with a quiet, groan. The salt, the heat, the memory of what just happened—it lingers between your lips.
You moved toward his desk without a word, plucking a few wet wipes from a packet with efficiency. He watched you in silence, chest still rising and falling too fast, his green eyes half-lidded and awed.
Your knees dipped the mattress softly, and you crawled toward him—not with the seduction from earlier, but something more affectionate. You slipped beside him, folding into his side without asking. One arm draped across his chest, the other tucked beneath your head as it found rest against the space just above his heart.
Midoriya didn’t speak. He just turned, slowly, to look at you—eyes still wide, still pink at the corners, as if trying to process that you were still here.
For a long time, silence filled the room like water rising to chests.
“Something about you makes me want to open up everything that urks me,” you said softly. “And I don’t do that often. It’s weak.”
His fingers tensed slightly on your ribs. He didn’t respond.
“People in my world don’t get the luxury to forget things—it’s deadly. I wish…I wish I had that freedom.” You chuckled bitterly. He gently lifted your chin with two fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes.
What he saw there made his breath hitch. No cunning calculation behind your eyes, no riddled playfulness…Just… soft. A quiet vulnerability you try too hard to bury on a daily basis.
He swallowed. He didn’t dare speak. Your eyes searched his for something you couldn’t name.
Then, with a sigh, you dropped your gaze and laid back against him again. Midoriya ran his fingers gently down your spine, a slow, thoughtful stroke, as if trying to memorize the way your skin curved under his touch. Your breathing slowed.
“I can’t say I understand—but I can be an ear. Even if it’s useless…” He whispered into your hair and you hummed, tracing slow circles on his chest to feel the warmth under his shirt, the steadiness of his pulse.
“You’re not what I expected,” you said quietly.
“And you’re exactly what I expected,” he murmured.
He smiled a little, tired and genuine. “Addicting and complicated,” Your gaze hardened for half a second. “Don’t romanticize me.”
“I’m not,” he said, voice dropping lower. “I’m warning myself.”
You laughed once—dry and low and beautiful.
Then you sat up, just enough to shift positions. Your thigh swung over his waist, straddling him in a slow, easy motion. His breath hitched—not from lust, but from the sheer weight of you.
You loomed over him, arms resting on either side of his head. Your top had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of your waist and chest. Your sleep shorts clung, unapologetically tight.
His fingers dug into the sheets, resisting the urge to touch you. You leaned closer, gaze unwavering, “Don’t forget me next time,”
He nodded once. “I won’t forget.”
“You will,” you said. “I don’t chase.”
Midoriya swallowed. “Then I’ll come crawling.”
You smirked. “I’d like to see that.”
“You did. Earlier.” You clicked your tongue and rolled off him, settling back onto the bed beside him with a dramatic sigh.
“I was trying to be serious.”
“Then stop making me want to laugh.” He turned toward you, watching you stretch, lazy and languid against his sheets.
“You’re staying?” he asked.
You blinked at the ceiling.
“Maybe.” He didn’t argue. You pulled his blanket up over your bare legs and turned onto your side, facing away from him.
“I could’ve eaten with anyone today,” you said. “Dozens of boys who would’ve skipped class for the chance.”
“But I chose you,” you said. “Even though you frustrate me. Even though you don’t act the way you’re supposed to.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
He scooted closer behind you, just close enough for your back to graze against his chest.
He reached over, hesitantly, and wrapped a loose arm around your waist and for once, you didn’t stop him.
part 1, part2, part 3, part 4, part 5
(exams have been beating my ahh, so this is probably the last one in a little while)