#also i highkey headcanon that todoroki rly enjoys power bottoming mostly bc he likes to watch u ride him

[revasserium]

Idk if I requested this already but can you do sfw and nsfw for todoroki and Midoriya

bnha requests open

todorokisfw -- 

a little bit touch starved, though he’d be quite hesitant at first with the contact, still a bit unused to the concept of closeness that isn’t related to pain or wrongdoing; eventually, the dam breaks and he’ll itch to be close to you, to be ever closer, all the time, whether it be your knees pressing beneath the table when studying, or your arm casually slung around your shoulders; he’d ache for your touch, miss it the moment you’re gone, biting his lips when you kiss him goodnight, wondering if it’d be too much to ask you to stay just a little longer (or perhaps, just forever) 

tiny little gestures of affection, like cooling your icecream on a hot day, or keeping your tea hot on a winter afternoon; tiny things he thinks you don’t notice (but you do, because you always notice when it comes to him), and when you say thank you, he’d start, because he really thought he was being subtle (he wasn’t; he never is when it comes to you) 

“is there something wrong with my hair?” “no, i just like it a lot. reminds me of neopolitan icecream.” “... there’s only two colors.” “yeah, i know, but still.” he’d smile, and then you’d smile, and eventually he’d ask if you’d like icecream, to which you’d say, “well, i thought you’d never ask.” 

sometimes he goes quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you wonder if he’ll ever speak again, but then it’s during those times that he’d reach for you, with shaking palms and a whole ocean of uncertainties locked behind his lips; you let him hold you, as close as he likes; you kiss him, slow and sweet and soft, and eventually he comes to, with a smile that tastes like thank you when he presses it against your lips 

“you’re staring.” “... i know.” “why’re you staring?” “because... i can, and i want to.” you grin, “take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he shakes his head, “i’d rather stare.” “why’s that?” “cause... if i wanted, i could just reach out and touch you.” 

nsfw -- 

he’d hold your hand, because he’s nothing if not a gentleman, twist your hair in his fingers and pull just had enough, sink his teeth into the skin of your neck until his name sounds less like a name and more like a prayer falling from your lips -- chanted, shouted, and screamed. 

“let’s take a bath.” “we literally just had a bath yesterday.” “you don’t like them?” “no... it’s just -- we never really actually bathe.” his grin is a little too wicked as he tugs you to him, “exactly why i like them.” 

(he likes them because he can heat up the water again without running more hot water)

he prefers the slow kind of love, the drawn out, feathers and flower petals and candles kind of love, the kind where he has time to spell out his desires across the parchment of your skin, kiss his name into the ridges between your ribs, savor the sting of your fingernails in his back as he drags you to another high, and then another after that; he’s never satisfied, but he sure as hell makes sure you are 

don’t think he won’t use his quirk to his fullest advantage, because he will; and maybe he spent half a night googling temperature kinks, but he’s a quick study if nothing else, and when he puts his research to the test, he has you writhing beneath him, begging and whimpering -- it’s one of the only times he’d properly considered his own quirks as dangerous; he’d have to use them sparingly in the bedroom; he’s not sure he’d survive another night with the sight of you reaching for him, asking to be fucked until you can’t remember anything but his name 

midoriyasfw -- 

he’s almost too pleased, too excited, and endeavors to make sure you know just how pleased and excited he is; he’ll hold your hand, a little too tightly sometimes, because if truth be told he’s still not sure this is really reality (he’d pinched himself more times than he can say), and he laughs too loudly, says “yes! i’d love to!” too many times, but it’s one of the things you love about him -- how excited he gets, how loud he can be, how determined when it comes to the things he loves -- well, now one of them just happens to be you 

lots of giggling and blushing, at least when it first starts out, lots of reaching for your hand, unsure if this is okay -- but once you assure him that it is, he gets better, until it becomes a second nature hand, his fingers slipping through yours, swinging between you on the way back from class, his palm against yours like it was made to be there 

“let’s go on a date!” “oh! where to?” “uhm -- hadn’t really thought that far yet.” you grin at his blush, “we could go to the movies.” “oh yeah! there’s that new docufilm about all might’s best rescues, have you seen the trailer? it looks super good!” you laugh, “sure!” “oh -- wait do you even want to see that? sorry, i shouldn’t have assumed...” “no, it’s okay! i’d love to go.” “are -- are you sure?” “yeah, i’m sure.” “okay then, let’s do it.” “yes, it’s a date.” 

cuddle-studying, because why not have both? 

sometimes he’d get carried away talking about the things he loves: all-might, curry buns, all-might, a new drill for his quirk, all-might, the cafeteria banana milk, all-might, fall as a season, and of course -- all-might, and then he’d pause to look at you, a blush on his cheeks, his fingers twisting and dancing in a language all their own (you swore you’d one day learn that language too, and you think you’re making good headway), he’d tell you sorry, that he didn’t mean to get carried away, to which you’d smile and shake your head, tell him that it’s okay, because you like hearing about the things he loves; and he’d say “well, i’d talk about you too, but it’s just whenever i try, no words come out -- like...” another blush, deeper this time, “like i could never find any words good enough to describe how much i love you.” 

nsfw -- 

it would be a bit fumbly, in the beginning, a bit awkward, and a lot funny -- but he’d figure it out eventually (with a lot of help from the interwebs, but he isn’t about to tell you that); there’d be a lot of “is this okay” “does that feel good” a lot of “tell me if i’m hurting you” and “ah -- am i doing that right?” but once he finds it, once he figures it out, it’s (mostly) smooth sailing from there, and well, he’s always been something of an overachiever 

maybe he’d get embarrassed about how much you turn him on, how quickly the heat gathers in his belly, how it snarls like a hungry beast at the base of his stomach, how sometimes it feels like he’s going insane, like he’s sitting in a boiler room with no ventilation, how his mind fizzles out into carnal desires and impulses when it comes to you; because sometimes when you kiss him like you do (like you want to do more than just kiss him), he feels like his entire body might catch fire and he thinks that he might have to ask todoroki about that temperature quirk because it feels like he’s got it 

“please, god you’re so hot -- i’m getting really hot too, i mean not that i think i’m hot just -- you’re -- ngh -- you know?” 

would 10000% get off on you riding his thigh, getting off on the thought of you being needy enough, the wonder in his eyes almost eclipsing the desire in his gut as he watches you work yourself over his leg; he tenses it just to watch you gasp, your head falling back; he thinks that if there’s a heaven, then this must be it; and he figures there’s no other paradise he’d rather be in than the one right here, right now 

when he figures it out, how to push your buttons, how to get you panting, it’s all he can do to stop himself from tugging you into every semi-secluded corner; its all he can do to stop himself from imagining bending you over every surface -- the desks tucked into the back of the library stacks, the counter in the kitchen in the dorms at night, the sofa in the common room where everyone will sit and no one will know; he learns how to make you scream and gets addicted to the sound, presses his hand over your mouth, even though he knows that it won’t do much to muffle the noise; he wonders if everyone can hear, and revels in the thought that bitch, they just might be able to.