#todoroki fluff

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 has one hand in your hair, the other on his chest before sliding it down his scarred, toned body, then sinking his matte black nails into your sheets, hissing through clenched teeth.

he’s anxious, but he’s still closer than he’s been in weeks; his entire body is molten, flames flickering against his palms and threatening to ignite because he has so little control right now .. it’s all yours, and you’re loving every second of it.

“such a pretty face.” you purr, looking up into his eyes through your long lashes while you stroke his long, gorgeous cock.

the pale skin on his face flushes and he looks away for just a second, pouting and drawing his brows. “s-stop — don’t say that.”

“why?”

“because it’s not true.”

“dabi, baby, you’re a pretty, gorgeous thing.”

strangely enough, that was more comforting because you called him a pretty thing instead of a pretty boy. there are tears in his gorgeous aquamarine eyes, mixing with the small rivulets of blood that catch along his stitches and tint his thick, snowy lashes a soft, diffused red. he looks like an angel.

“f-fine, I’m close, just please—”

“I told you to shut up and take it, did I not?”

“yes, mama…” he pouts, before crying out, “oh! fuck,” feeling you suck him into your heavenly mouth again. you slide down his shaft, your soft lips gently catching on his piercings and it makes him shiver in your hold. you have to use your hand to stroke his base because it won’t fit, your other hand kneading and cradling his balls. he’s a wreck, both hands now holding your face as you do your best to deepthroat him.

“oh my god..” he’s whining and you have to pull back for air, stroking his length as quickly as you can while you watch him carefully. his hips are chasing your touch off of the bed, eyes crossing as he finally, finally cums all over himself. you catch some in your mouth, but it’s too much, painting his perfect abs in thick, glistening white. the poor thing is shaking, practically crying as he tries to come down.

“good boy, dabi.” you praise him, still gently pumping his cock, leaning forward to lick up every drop of cum and it tastes so fucking good.

“call me toya, please.” and his voice is shaking.

“t… toya?”

he looks at you with the biggest, sweetest puppy eyes, his brows drawn from pleasure, whimpering deep in his chest. that’s his actual name? huh, cute.

you kiss around his navel piercing, humming against his warm skin. “yeah, toya? you did such a good job, baby. are you feeling better?”

he nods eagerly, abruptly saying, “I can keep going, I need more of you.”

“yeah? you’re certain it’s not too much?”

“it’s not enough … I’ve never even come close to feeling this good, baby, please, I need you.”

“you don’t have to beg for it, I just wanna take care of you, okay?” your voice is so honeyed and sweet, and you’re saying exactly what he wants to hear.

“then let me eat that pretty cunt, baby, please, I wanna taste you.”

“yeah? you like eating pussy?”

“I love it.”

he sounds confident but he swallows nervously, gently guiding you onto his face. his chest is still sticky with his cum, but he doesn’t even care. you have an insane hold on him, and he’s completely lost in you.

“mmm, toya, fuck.” you mewl, one hand in his hair and the other on his thigh. you’re perfectly arched back over his body, just the right angle to grind your clit on his tongue and that little metal ball, gently rolling your hips up and down while you both gasp and moan into the cold air.

he tongue fucks you just enough to fit two of his fingers, and you’re close, but you need him inside of you. you forgo the impending orgasm for something even better — his big, perfect cock stuffing you absolutely full.

“just fuck me, please.” you cry, pulling him away from your aching pussy by his thick, snowy tresses.

“oh, was it bad? I haven’t done that in a while—” he pouts, softly kissing your inner thigh.

“no, baby, not at all, i just need to feel you.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you—”

“toya.”

and that’s all he needed to hear. he sits up as you eagerly adjust to straddle him, laying your face against his warm chest, rubbing your glossy, soaked pussy against his tip. he shushes you softly as you whimper and whine, spreading you with his hands on your ass to help your tight pussy slide down onto him. his tip catches, and then his piercings — his cock is perfectly shaped, and the cool, smooth metal makes him feel like a living sex toy. the feeling is breathtaking, literally.

“toya, god, you feel so fucking good.”

( he whines whenever you say his name. )

you sigh in content once you’re seated fully, sucking on his neck as you slowly pull yourself up and back down, setting a languid pace that makes dabi’s head spin. you rotate your hips just enough so that you can feel each and every one of the barbels on his ladder piercing with each bounce, threading your hands through his soft, silky hair just to keep yourself grounded.

“you feel like heaven, baby, so good for me … I don’t deserve you.” he whispers in your ear between soft grunts and groans, lightly sinking his perfect teeth into your neck just to taste your skin. you whine and keen into him, riding his thick cock a bit harder now.

the dermal piercing on his pelvis bumps against your clit with each impact, making you want to melt into him and never let go. it’s like a soft little kiss with every drop of your hips to reward you for how good you’re riding him, and the added stimulation is pulling you even closer to the edge.

you’re both a mess, just kissing and panting and crying, with both of his big, pretty hands on your ass to help you keep pace. you pull away to flick your tongue against one of his cute, pink nipples, gently sucking the barbel into your mouth and he moans like a bitch in heat.

you do the same to the other side, and he almost cums right then with a deep, shuddering breath, but there’s no way that he’s going to let himself cum a second time before you do even once. he locks his hands around your waist and finally decides to take control. dabi doesn’t even pull out as he lays you down, sitting up on his haunches with one hand holding your hip.

you cross your ankles around his slutty waist, bringing him just a bit closer. his thumb searches for your clit, and his touch feels so much better than the pelvic piercing. it makes your back arch off of the bed so pretty, and dabi leans over you, his free hand stabilizing himself on the mattress by your hips while he fucks you even harder.

each push and pull has your tight pussy holding onto him for dear life. you can feel every ridge of him, be it his veins or the metal, as he desperately drags himself through your warm, velvety walls. his strokes feel ethereal, and his tip grazes your cervix if he gets just the right angle.

dabi is silently in awe of the perfect expanses of your soft skin, and he almost wants to dig his nails in to ruin it, to create bloody red tracks amidst the silken canvas but it’s you — and you’re allowed to be perfect, even if nothing else is … even if he wants to destroy absolutely everything else.

“god, you look so fucking pretty on my cock … my perfect angel girl.” he exhales, readjusting his hips upwards so that his tip hits your sweet spot. “I’m already so fucking close again, baby, doin’ so good for me.”

your toes curl and you nod, just letting yourself feel everything. “just like that, toya, just a little bit harder, you won’t break me, I can take it — o-oh!” and god, is he desperately obeying every single one of your words, just trying to make you feel good, to feel your pretty cunt squeeze and flutter around his big cock when you finally cum for him.

all of your nerves are buzzing, your stomach in scalding knots as the pressure continues to build. you’re close, but it’s not until he lays one of his palms flat across your pelvis to feel himself moving inside of you that your body can’t take it anymore. dabi is pressing on that little squishy patch from both inside and out, which makes you cum with a loud, unrestrained cry.

“oh my god, so pretty.” he’s practically whimpering, settling as deeply inside of you as physically possible, grinding that little heart-shaped piercing against your clit while your pussy soaks all over his cock, but you wrap your hands around his back and pull him in.

“keep fucking me until you cum again, I need it inside.” you tell him, and it’s way more intimate than you intend. you’re friends, but it’s not like your relationship will ever be the same after this. not when you make each other feel this good, not when you’re the first partner to ever make him cum, and it was so easy for you.

“you’re so fucking good to me.” he kisses you again ; it’s messy and heated, no thinking, just satiating his need to taste you.

it’s a lot, it’s too much, but you need him to feel good, and you need him to stuff your pussy full of his cream. the overstimulation is almost numbing, and you feel like you’re floating in a warm, gentle ocean while dabi’s body laps against you just like waves hitting the sand.

“fuck! gripping me so tight like you were fucking made for me, doll, your pussy is too fucking perfect, shit, I can’t—”

“cum, toya.”

he shivers in your hold, groaning into your mouth as you feel thick, hot ropes flood your cunt. he pulls away to rest his face in your neck and a shimmery, sticky line of spit briefly connects your lips. he’s panting, trying to collect himself while he listens to your breathing and you play with his hair, but he can’t stop shaking, it’s too much.

“that’s it, baby, good boy.” you shush him and he whines, nearly collapsing on top of you before pulling you into his arms. he brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your blushed cheeks.

you’re quiet for a few moments, just feeling him against you, letting him come down, gently running your fingertips along the stitches near his jaw .. but you can’t stop yourself from teasing him just a bit : “you’re buying the plan b.”

( this was only supposed to be a handjob .. and possibly head if that didn’t work … )

“hm? yeah, I guess we better stock up.”

“toya!” you whine, pouting so cutely that he has to kiss you. “sorry, sorry .. I’ll pull out next time.” he relents, feeling slightly guilty. you sigh, but you’re not actually annoyed, smiling when you look over at him. “fiine, I’ll refill my birth control just for you, pretty thing.”

先輩 ⸻ written by senpai with love

notes. I worked really hard to have this ready for valentine’s day, so I hope that u liked it :3 bakugo, kirishima, megumi, and yuji fics soon !! if you liked this, please consider reading my ↬ dabi headcanons :D

( I love love love love him and writing about him !! )

[ @slutsenpai ⨯ my masterlist ] — likes, reblogs & comments much appreciated! ◟♡ do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing anywhere for any reason

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.