bakugo: “the fuck? why?” — instant hostility (toned down because it’s towards you). this mf was probably doing stretches on his floor because we all know he’s quietly all about that nightly wind-down routine. his brows furrow, lip curled in near disgust (you know that ugly face he makes all the time? yeah, LMAO) at the mere possibility that you don’t wanna stay the night. “because i’m not feeling it,” you retaliate with a shrug. bakugo watches you for a moment, completely silent as he scrutinizes your words. you almost break under his gaze cause like can he chill for 4 seconds… but he’s too smart and can see through your façade. “is this another damn tiktok trend? fuck outta my face with that.” (he spends the rest of the night by your side, doing whatever it is you want in silence)

todoroki: stares at you dumbfounded for a whole three seconds before quietly asking “… oh … why?” BUT SHOUTO IS SO SWEET BECAUSE THEN he’s questioning if you’re feeling okay, all gently and calmly. he’s quick to place a palm to your forehead, “are you feeling under the weather? i think fuyumi has some medication. do you want some water, too?” and he’s already half off the bed to fetch you whatever :( AWWW MY ANGEL BOY. you probably vow to never prank this boy in this sense again because he’s just too oblivious for his own good. got a good laugh outta you though because when you tell him it’s a prank he’s just like “.. oh, okay. i’m glad you’re feeling good, though.” with a cute small smile HAAHAH <3

iida: starts thwacking his hand in that chopping motion and he’s all flabbergasted like ???? has no genuine reason as to why you would say that, you seemed to be enjoying yourself the rest of the time. class rep takes off his glasses and cleans them like THAT COULD HELP HIM HEAR YOU BETTER OR COMPREHEND THE SITUATION LMFAOOOOOO. iida would gently hold your shoulders and ask you if everything is okay, like, did he… do something wrong? you burst out laughing in his face because he’s so serious and when you tell him it’s all a joke, the man’s glasses fog up in embarrassment. “do not play these games,” he says as he proceeds to grab a fresh pair of glasses off his wall. OKAY IIDA.

kirishima: you tell him from downstairs, yelling that you’re gonna head out soon. CUE HIS “what?! hey, babe—wait!” FROM THE TOP OF THE STEPS AND THE LOUD STOMPS OF HIS BIG ASS COMING DOWN. he’s like basically naked because he was in the process of changing before he heard you announce your leave LMAO. “why? what’s wrong, baby?” he’s so genuinely worried and confused, walking up to you with open arms. “don’t leave,” he’s POUTING. poor boy probably had the whole night planned out (movies, activities, snacks, hell—even your skincare regime he’ll do with you!). he wanted to do EVERYTHING. doesn’t find the prank very funny but sighs in relief. “don’t do that…” sharp-toothed lopsided grin <3

kamanari: i’m already dying at the thought of this man SCRABBLING to you from his bed to his door when you get up and announce you’re leaving. slides to you on his knees and wraps his arms around you. “BABE, WHY?” LMFAOOOO this dramatic mf I CAN’T. biggest puppy dog eyes. now see, i think he’d know about this prank but all reason flies out the window when his amazing and hot partner is threatening to leave his house for the night. all he can think about is HE CAN’T SPEND MORE TIME WITH YOU? it’s enough to make him beg at the camera that blatantly in his face (he doesn’t notice it).

⭑ fashion icon pinky, known for her model-worthy looks, bundled up in blankets and stolen hoodies and mismatched socks and sweatpants with her girlfriend as the two of them binge-watch all five seasons of riverdale 

⭑ charming and dashing hero chargebolt, sitting in front of the tv at seven am, sharing a blanket with his fiancée and watching cartoons and eating cereal because neither of them wanted to cook and definitely not resembling two responsible adults whose wedding is in two months

⭑ the ever cool and composed ingenium absolutely losing his shit because his wife was unaware that the dominos pasta containers are aluminum and cannot go in the microwave, as they found out the hard way, the pair now staring at a crispy microwave and charred countertop

⭑ sweet and kind uravity who becomes an absolute menace when up against her girlfriend at mario kart because they agreed the loser would do the dishes and she refuses to even touch that mountain of plates after tamale night 

⭑ the manliest of all heroes, red riot, who swears there is no manlier thing than going for drive-thru at one in the morning with his fiancée in the passenger seat because they had a fry craving

He huffed a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “That’s what surprises me. I thought I was done growing after high school. But my pants are shorter now, and my shoulders feel broader. And then there’s this.” Shouto pinched lightly at his undershirt over his stomach, the cotton tenting between his fingers. “It wasn’t like this before.”

You reached out and gently caught his wrist before he could pinch himself again. “Shouto,” you said, soft but firm, “you’re in your late twenties. Your body isn’t going to look exactly like it did when you were sixteen and training like your life depended on it.”

“I still train,” he added, his wrist warm and pliant in your hold.

“I know,” you replied, smiling. “But you also eat.”

He blinked.

“I… yes.”

“And enjoy it,” you added, teasing a little.

He considered that. “I do.”

You slid your hands up to rest on his sides, your thumbs brushing warm, slow arcs over the firm plane of his ribs. “You’ve been eating better, too. More balanced. Less… strict diets.”

“That was Father’s idea of efficiency,” Shouto replied dryly.

“Exactly.” You leaned in and pressed a quick, warm kiss to the center of his chest through the soft fabric. “Now you’re independent. You cook. You go out. You try new things. Of course your body is adjusting.”

He looked down at you, his eyes thoughtful, searching yours. “You really don’t think I look… worse?”

You laughed softly. “Worse? Shouto, you look hot.”

He stiffened slightly, a faint pink blush blooming on his face, creeping up toward his hairline. “That’s not an objective measurement.”

“It is when I’m the one married to you,” you said, squeezing his sides gently. “You look strong. Healthy. Comfortable.”

“Comfortable,” he repeated, as if testing the weight and texture of the word on his tongue.

“You’re not constantly on edge anymore,” you continued, your hands smoothing up to his shoulders, kneading the relaxed muscle there. “Your shoulders don’t sit up near your ears. You sleep better. You laugh more.” You tilted your head, smiling up at him, letting him see the utter sincerity in your gaze. “And yes, you have a little more softness here.” Your hand brushed his stomach again. “I like it.”

The blush deepened. “You always say things like that so easily.”

“That’s because they’re easy to say,” you replied simply. “You’re my husband. I get to be honest.”

He exhaled slowly, a long, quiet sigh that seemed to release tension from the very marrow of his bones, easing from his frame. “I suppose I’ve been thinking about it because we’ve been going out more. Restaurants, bakeries, street food stalls—”

“You dragged me to three dessert places in one afternoon last weekend,” you reminded him.

“They were all different,” he defended. “The variety in flavors mattered.”

You laughed again. “You sounded like a critic.”

He paused.

“…Do you think I could do that?”

“Critic?”

“No. A food blogger.”

Your eyes lit up immediately. “Shouto.”

He straightened a little, your reaction pulling his shoulders back. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” you said, excitement creeping into your voice like honey into tea. “You already take pictures of your meals. You take notes. You talk about flavor profiles like you’re analyzing combat tactics.”

“That’s not intentional.”

“That’s exactly why it works,” you insisted. “You’re sincere. You don’t exaggerate. You pay attention.”

He thought about that, his gaze drifting briefly toward the kitchen, where a well-used cookbook lay open on the counter from earlier that morning, since he helped you make his birthday breakfast (much to your dismay, he was quite a stubborn husband). “I’ve been enjoying cooking more,” he admitted. “Learning techniques. Timing. Heat control.”

You hummed. “You literally control temperature.”

“Yes, but not like this,” he said, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. “Food reacts differently. It’s… humbling.”

You reached back for the shirt you’d finished ironing, the fabric now perfectly smooth and warm, and held it up like an offering. “Put this on. We’ll be late.”

He puts it on, the cool, delicate cotton over his skin, and stands patiently as you fix the collar and sleeve for him. “So you really don’t mind if I keep exploring this?”

“I encourage it,” you told him. “Honestly, if you ever quit hero work, we could open a restaurant.”

“That seems extreme.”

“You married me,” you countered.

He snorted quietly, a soft, affectionate sound.

You smoothed his collar one last time, your fingertips brushing the line of his jaw, then stepped back to take him in. The polo shirt fit him well, broad across the shoulders, snug but not tight at the waist. He looked grown, settled, and quietly confident in a way he hadn’t been when you first met.

“See?” you mused. “Perfect.”

He glanced at the mirror again, then nodded once. “Alright.”

Shouto reached for his keys and hesitated, his hand on the cold metal. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low.

“For ironing?”

“For… reassuring me.”

You slipped your shoes on and stood, facing him, the outside world waiting just beyond the door. “Anytime you forget how I see you, remind me to remind you.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead, his lips gentle and lingering. “It’s strange,” he murmured against your skin. “Birthdays used to feel… heavy.”

“And now?”

He straightened his posture a little. “Now I’m mostly thinking about what I’m going to order,” he admitted.

You laughed, looping your arm through his, pulling him toward the door and the noon ahead. “Progress.”

As he drove, Shouto’s hand focused on the wheel, and the other squeezed your hand, his larger palm warm and sure around yours. “I was thinking,” he said, his voice carrying a note of quiet adventure, “maybe I’ll order something I’ve never tried before.”

You smiled at him, the city lights catching in his eyes, making them bright with anticipation. “It’s your birthday. Try everything.”

He nodded. Yes, perhaps he would.

⟢ he also loves it when you spit in his mouth, but he doesn’t often do it to you unless you pissed him off, the sex is getting too intense, or if he’s feeling possessive. he loves your taste, even your spit.

⟢ turns him on if you call him a brat.

⟢ he’s more of a biter than a scratcher. breeding kink, but he doesn’t even know it yet, and you’re so down bad that you don’t even mind being on birth control for him .. you also love when he cums inside of you .. :3

⟢ blood kink, and he loves period sex ..

⟢ like, as soon as you utter even the first word of a complaint about your period, he’s carrying you to bed and finding a way to ease the ache. it’s only to make you feel better, of course, and not for his own selfish pleasure! and he’ll eat you out ; he’s filthy and does not give a fuck. like I said, he just wants to taste you.

⟢ let’s talk about his piercings — my headcanons are based on how @/birf draws dabi because it is so fucking good omg. tongue stud, nipple barbells, navel piercing, a heart-shaped dermal that sits right above his pubic hair, and a frenum ladder. FUCK.

“you really like my piercings, huh? can’t stop fucking staring, baby.”

⟢ soft white happy trail :3 he usually keeps it trimmed.

⟢ his cock is gorgeous, perfect ; close to eight inches and he’s cut (I know this isn’t common in japan but you can’t stop me). thick with velvety skin, defined veins, and a sensitive, soft pink tip .. his balls are heavy and even they look pretty.

⟢ luckily, dabi’s cock has been unscathed by his flames thus far, but some of his stitches are dangerously close to his sack …

⟢ even though dabi isn’t built like his father like natsuo is, I feel like the todo boys still got those girthy cock genes ;-; where endeavor’s is monstrous and veiny and too big, and he doesn’t even know what to do with it (endeavor is an awful fuck and you can’t convince me otherwise), his sons have that perfect size and their cocks are pretty.

⟢ he always smells so good, like smoky maple and vanilla.

⟢ it would start out as fwb, maybe you met in a bar, but he quickly becomes a possessive yandere over you. definitely would kill for you, if he hasn’t already.

⟢ instead of lingerie, he prefers that you’re naked for him, mostly because he trusts you enough to bare himself and all of his insecurities to you. it’s his favorite way to have you, but he also loves to see you in thigh-high socks and maybe a leather collar.

⟢ he also loves to fuck you absolutely stupid. he knows that he’s got you there when he asks you a question and you can’t even answer (you would’ve used your safe word well before it got to this point if needed, but you love it just as much as he does). he’s grinning, fucking you in deep, perfect strokes, his piercings only making it feel even better.

“your tiny pussy can take more than that, can’t she? yeah, thought so, she loves me too fuckin’ much.”

⟢ fucks you like he owns you (because he does), wants to break you into his shape so you’ll never want anyone else (as if you ever could).

⟢ he’ll have both hands on your waist one second, then he’s pushing down on his bulge in your tummy, making you cry and arch and pull him even closer. he is so fucking in love with your perfect, cute, tight cunt, and you always make him cum so fast if he isn’t careful.

⟢ can also make you go so fucking stupid on his fingers. his hands are big and his fingers are long, especially compared to yours, and he knows exactly where to touch you. it’s not fair — your own fingers will never be enough after having his.

⟢ prefers to overstim you, but edging on himself.

⟢ he’ll press one of his big hands on your stomach, the other with his thumb on your clit and fingers deep, perfectly hitting your sweet spot while his gravelly voice is in your ear, saying, “thaaaat’s it, take it f’me .. that’s my pretty girl, so fucking perfect.”

⟢ meanwhile when he’s touching himself, he edges himself to tears, panting deep in his chest, and taking a drag of a joint between strokes of his big, pretty cock, inhaling through his teeth to suppress any whines. such a fucking pretty sight.

⟢ these are my headcanons, so I’m gonna say it !! — dabi might not be an eater like kirishima is, but he still loves eating pussy, and he does it often … like, almost every session, unless you’re getting too impatient. he has a tongue piercing for a reason !!

⟢ he wants to make you feel good, he loves your taste, and he would get bored if he’s usually getting most of the attention. he just wants his face shoved between your soft thighs and you pulling on his thick hair. just be careful with the stitches near his mouth. :(

⟢ they break the easiest, and he doesn’t care anymore because his appearance is so far gone and he hardly feels the pain, but you care.

⟢ it’s canon that he can’t really cry tears because his tear ducts are burned up :( and when he cries, it just comes out as blood :( but that’s okay, because you’ll kiss and lick the droplets off of his pretty face, whether it’s his stitches bleeding, or if your poor baby is crying.

⟢ you often have to stitch him back up after the sex gets too heated :( usually on his face, shoulders, back, and thighs. it’s not like he gives a fuck about what his stitches look like anyway, but your sutures are really precise and pretty so he doesn’t even mind, and he likes when you do it.

⟢ if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t make any sort of noise while getting stitched up .. but with you? he’s whining when it hurts because he knows that you’ll dote on him ; with soft kisses, running your hands through his hair, and a quiet, sweet daijōbu or yoshiyoshi as you gently rub his back to calm him.

⟢ you’re sweet to him when he needs it, but sometimes you’re mean just to get a reaction .. and god, he absolutely loves to fuck that cute brattiness out of you, no matter how adorable he thinks it is .. and it’s fine as long as he knows that you’re just teasing, right?

⟢ he always used to shove your face into the pillows, and he didn’t care if your eyes were open or not because he fucking hates himself, but now .. he’s desperate for your validation. you’re the only person who makes him feel handsome, like he’s worth something, anything, and he feels like he’ll fucking die without your praise.

blood-tinged tears on thick, snowy lashes, and he’s begging, “look at me, please .. please.”

⟢ completely falls apart if you call him pretty or tell him that he’s an angel. at first he thinks that you’re just being sweet, but it becomes obvious that you mean it.

⟢ breath play, but not for the reason you’d think — he mostly loves how his massive hands look around your pretty neck, but he’d never want to hurt you. he loves when you softly choke him with your small, dainty hands ; he can’t really feel pain, but the pressure and lightheadedness feels nice.

⟢ absolutely loves your chest. always cuddles up into it, and he would spend hours just kissing and sucking on it if you’d let him (and sometimes you do).

⟢ you always lock your doors at night, but you also always leave the same window unlocked in case he wants to come in. he never tells you where he’s been, and you never ask. it’ll be 4am and he’s soaking from the rain, slipping off his wet clothes and cuddling up to you in your warm bed.

⟢ about half of the time, he can’t help himself, and you wake up with his silky black hair tickling your thighs, his big hands on you like a vice while he groans softly and eats your cunt. he needs you and your warmth and your sweet taste and scent. :(