I refuse to spend more time on this, his jacket is so ugly

cut ultimate moves cut

Yatai

    ☆.｡.:*　ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ꜱʜᴏᴜᴛᴏ❣ (ᴊᴀɴ 11) ♡　.｡.:*❆

Your crown around my heart

Todoroki Shouto 轟焦凍

hawks' day off 🐥🌾

“mister dynamight! mister dynamight!” a young girl called as she ran up to you and your boyfriend while on a day out, you hear a woman —who you assumed was her mother— shout to come back.

you instinctively reach to grab some of the shopping bags out of his hands in case he needed to give an autograph, but his grip tightens with a warning glance.

“is it true you once captured three villains in one day?!” the girl asked, eyes gleaming up at her role model. chest puffed out, katsuki clicked his tongue, “don’t believe everything you hear. psh, three in one day..”

then he knelt down, leaning close as if to tell the girl a secret. “it was four.”

he smirked when she let out an amazed gasp, ‘wow!’ while you roll your eyes, mumbling under your breath.

hawks vs the fandom

horikoshi has made the absolute funniest series of choices here. first he straight up kills katsuki on-screen. THEE katsuki bakugou. then he immediately goes on a week-long break leaving fans on the edge of their seats. then he comes back and promptly switches POVs and gives us AFO's oh-no-he's-hot new body instead. i need to learn his trolling ways. troll master

“he has no pulse”

bitch you better fucking find it

part two to fwb bakugou short story, but it’ll probably not make you feel anymore happier:

bakugou katsuki never though he was actually attractive until he found out he had a fan club.

call him a naive, but truly, he had no idea. he was always focused on things that mattered — intelligence, ability, skill — that being attractive felt more like a stupid parlor trick. he was thriving one night, having just turned 20 and even though his friends couldn’t drink, that sure didn’t stop them from buying him way too many drinks.

at first, he had been able to yell at them for buying drinks, but kaminari had slung an arm around his shoulder, a conniving smirk on his face as he looked more at kirishima then him.

“well, i’m sure that midoriya would be able to handle all these drinks~”

katsukis hubris would always be his downfall.

he doesn’t remember most of the night, can barely remember the bitter taste of alcohol, but could remember the scalding embrace of the person who warmed his bed. the way their backs arched from the bed, their sweet beautiful praising ringing in his ears as his cock entered their squeezing hole over and over again.

there were a few things he realized that night.

1. sex was good. like really good…. and-

2. being attractive meant more possibilities to have sex.

and finally, the stupid parlor trick had a true value.

sex was a great relief for katsuki. it was mindless, rhythmic, and a new territory for him to become the best in. he realized quickly that he wasn’t exactly looking for anything more than a bed partner, he didn’t really want anything romantic because that meant that this relief would become a job.

not that romance was bad or anything, but with his partnership with work-till-he-drops deku of all people in the hero world, he didn’t have any time to provide anything but sex. but he knew entirely well that working with deku showed the pros and cons of having a partner, and well, there wasn’t a lot of cons. so sue him, sometimes there were a few people that stayed longer then a night.

by the time he’s 26, he’s thriving off the system he’s made, work eat sex sleep, even if sometimes the sex part had angry rioters after him, they were the only things that mattered.

nothing seemed to be going wrong, well until it did.

he had met some girl at a conference. she had said she wasn’t a hero, nor a support hero, so bakugou assumed she was nothing more than some overcommitted fangirl who managed to get in to the conference.

she had a nice smile, pretty eyes, and seemed to put up with his sometimes brute personality, so he invited her over after the many blunt displays of flirting.

now that was mistake number one.

so after a week of sleeping together, he called it off, but of course of all people she could have been, she was the daughter of the most influential man in japan.

blacklisted.

that’s what he was.

no one wanted him, despite his attractiveness. no one wanted a man who broke hearts after fucking “virgins.” his ability as a pro was being questioned because of his sex life, and not even savior of the fucking world deku could stop the slandering.

before katsuki could decide whether or not he should figure out a way to prove that he had told every past partner that he was simply here for sex, you approached him.

katsuki remembers being a bit confused, a bit put off by your quiet confident approach. you guys weren’t exactly friends in high school, but you had been tight with deku. deku was the reason you had been recruited to work in their agency anyways. as if the world wasn’t already falling apart, your proposition definitely made his unstable world even more stable.

maybe that’s why he laughed bitterly at your request, why he even wanted to agree with it, why he even looked at your plainish features and thought to himself that he’s done so much better that he says, “I can’t promise that I won’t break your heart.”

and you, truly adding the most chaos into his life, simply shrugged.

“…that’s okay, as long as it’s my heart and not yours.”

to say the least, katsuki was taken aback by you. your stamina was par to his own, the keening and crying praises spilling from your lips into his ears sent fire down his spine. finger raked down his back, and the way you submitted to his every whim, desire, and sadistic demand. eyes that were soaked with tears looking at him with blown pupils while swollen blubbering lips begged for more.

it was perfect.

too perfect.

so perfect that when kaminari comments on it one day, something snags on bakugous throat.

“seems like our explodey boy is finally whipped and settling down with y/l/n!” he whistles, low and impressed. “good for the two of ya!”

everyone cheers in agreement.

maybe it was the sake in his system, the cheap beer sitting flush on his cheeks, and the intoxicated energy of high school friends sitting at a bar together, but bakugou opens his mouth and does the one thing he’s undeniably good at: destroying things.

“it isn’t anything serious,” he snaps. “it’s just sex. y/l/n knows it and it hasn’t stopped me from sleeping with anyone else!”

no one dares to call him out on it, but the array of wide eyes and parted lips pisses bakugou off more than them rebutting them could ever do.

“i’ll prove it to you fuckers then!” he hisses, anger wasted on nothing.

so he stands up, upper body flexed and on display and has no issue finding someone immediately interested in fucking a top ranked hero who hasn’t been around in more than a year.

bakugou takes them home, lips and fingers working magic, but his ears don’t hear the buzz of his phone. his angry and slightly drunken brain forget that you’re meant to come over tonight. it was tradition after all.

the moment bakugou finally gets the courage to rip the shirt off the stranger, mind aching because this doesn’t feel right, his front door opens.

as a pro hero, there are many times the world has slowed to a complete stop for him. when he watched buildings fall on friends, when it was one last punch or die, when he needed to save someone. he was used to this uniqueness of time perception and how things slow down. but he never imagined seeing it happen as his eyes open as see you at the entrance of his apartment. files and dinner in your hand, and the millions of emotions that flew through your eyes.

bakugou doesnt even hear the exchange, his heart too loud in his ears, but when he tries to call out… you leave.

the mood is killed, and there’s no more point in lying to himself… bakugou wants you. irrevocably and desperately wants you. with everything he can muster, he runs to your apartment after rushing out the nameless stranger through the front door.

he needs to explain.

he needs to tell you the truth.

he likes you! just you!

it was a mistake.

a hubris, fat headed mistake!

“I told you already, katsuki,” you say softly, the smile on your face small, knowing, yet somehow still so fucking kind. “I told you that it was okay. as long as it was my heart that broke, and not yours.”

the words scream in his ears, and it’s almost tragic that he doesn’t remember that until right now because his heart is frantically beating.

but bakugou musters up a sound again, mind spinning, heart aching. he needs to tell you his thoughts! you need to understand!

but the click of the door in front of his face is louder than any explosion he could ever make.

the sad, distant look on your face remains burned in his mind as he sinks to the floor. back pressed against the wall.

fuck.

fuck!

“it’s not okay though,” he whispers to no one. “my heart is breaking too.”

the way i gave myself secretary x pro hero brainrot LMAO what a clown 🤡🔫 congrats u little fool, u bimbo, u played YOURSELF.

okay no we’re going now:

Pro Hero AU where you’re a secretary at the Big Three’s brand new agency—it’s a big, open space, filled with amazing heroes who come and go and you’re only one of many, many staff members who help keep the paperwork side of things running smoothly, so Japan’s best can get out there and do what they need to.

You’d gotten the job after Deku—the Deku!—pulled you out of the rubble of your old one.

“Are you okay?” He’d asked, breathing in with his relief at having found you.

In reply you had burst into tears. “My—my job—”

Afterwards, when you’re calmer, you’ll understand that it was the shock making you grasp at and worry over the wrong thing—but Deku had been so, so kind, rubbing your back carefully like you were a small child. “It’ll be okay,” he promised, “I know it will!”

(Later a cheery EMT will give you a small slip of paper, with a wink. “The Big Green wanted you to have this!” He says, brightly. It’s an email—for Deku’s not-yet started agency, the scrawled message underneath saying: When you feel up to it, contact us. We’d love to have you be apart of the team somehow!! A week later, you’ll be in the agency itself, bare-bones as it was, then, Deku giving you a bashful tour.)

You like your job. You like your coworkers. You get paid well, the leave is decent—and mandatory—and you’re able to build a new life on top of the one you’d had before this, where you lived paycheck-to-paycheck and had to think carefully, twice-over, about every and any purchase. Now you can do frivolous, soul-feeding things like: get your nails done, with cute designs, upkeep them. Go out to spontaneous lunches with your coworkers or your friends. Buy gifts for the people you love and not have to apologise every time you gifted them with, “I’m sorry it’s not much—”. You invest in good, solid cookware—French-made cast iron dutch ovens in deep, jewel greens and copper pans with lifetime warranties. Life is wonderful when you don’t have to worry about what you have to live off of until your next payday.

Your favourite part, however, are your coworkers. They’re good people, you think to yourself, watching as other admin assistants rush past you with a wave, or one of the visiting Pros winks at you. Your bosses (are they your bosses? Technically you think you answer to their manager more, but it doesn’t matter) especially. Every morning Deku makes it a point to stop by your desk, ask how you are, tell you about whatever interesting thing he learnt about or observed the other day. He’s enthusiastic and wonderful and you grin at him every time you see each other in the agency.

Then there’s Shouto. You’ve always wondered if he ever questioned your appearance on the team. They’d had their staff that they trusted, in the early days, a small team that they’d known either as teenagers or just after they all debuted onto the Pro Heroics scene. Deku slipped you in, sneakily, as though you wouldn’t be noticed and while you knew that Dynamight had given him immedate—and lasting—shit for it, Shouto had seemed unperturbed, just accepting that you were now there. He talks to you like he’s known you for years, comfortably.

“Good morning,” he greets every day, “I’ve brought you coffee.”

The order changes: sometimes it’s an Iced Americano with vanilla syrup, or a hot Latte on non-diary creamer. Every time a new season rolls around he brings you the corresponding special, every day, with the fitting seasonal cups and decorations. You thank him for all of them, even the ones you don’t enjoy and he nods, smiling at you as he disappears into itinerary meetings with the others, or to be berated by their manager for being uncooperative with the media. You start bringing him fitting treats you can think of: little keychains from joke-stores, candy-cane cookies your neighbour makes you for Christmas. Dark, fruit-filled chocolate you buy from tiny, luxurious little shops that have the sanctity of a jewellery store. He thanks you for every single one of them, amused at each.

Deku and Shouto are absolute sweethearts who make you feel valued, welcomed, even after all this time. Dynamight—Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, the third of their trio—does not.

He’s not mean, or even rude. You just don’t think he even knows you’re there half the time, stalking past your desk even as you greet him with a cheerful—and standard—“Hi!”

Sometimes he grunts. Sometimes he’ll even look at you. Other times his jaw tightens and he strides past and your Work Wife, who sits across from you, will quietly laugh to herself at the face you make behind his back.

Nothing changes. At least, nothing changes until you’re having a rough day: it’s bucketing outside, the type of weather that threatens a typhoon and you’re one of the few skeleton staff that have managed to make it in, getting soaked in the process. You’re cold, even with your cardigan and you haven’t been sleeping well the past few days, thanks to some… issues—you don’t notice Dynamight’s even come in until he stops, just past your desk.

“Where the fuck’s my hello?” he demands, startling you.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. He scowls under the attention. “Well?” he asks, voice rough and unreasonably, you can feel the sudden, unwanted prick of tears.

“Hi,” you say, wobbly. And then you burst into tears.

(You’ll never forget the alarm on his face—or the horror on Deku’s as he walks in to see you snivelling into some tissues, Great Explosion Murder Mittens Dynamight standing over you with the box, his face twisted unpleasantly.

“What the hell, Kacchan!” He’d demanded, green lightning crackling around his fists.

“Fuck off, Deku!” Dynamight had snarled back. “And you!”

Shouto, who’d come in behind Deku, only says calmly, “I didn’t say anything.” He’s carrying a drink—for you, your name written on it neatly and as Deku and Dynamight start their vicious bickering, he passes them to place it on your desk.

“I asked them to draw a little cat on it,” he tells you, like a secret; turning the cup until you can see that there is, indeed, a fat-faced cat on it.

“He has good whiskers,” you whisper back, and Shouto smiles at you and you think: things will probably be okay.

You know it will.)

there’s this line I read awhile ago, it was part of some comic I can’t remember from who, but the flavor????????

“I can’t promise I won’t break your heart.”

“…that’s okay, as long as it’s mine, and not yours.”

like imagine this:

being 26 years old, 8 years into a friendship with bakugou katsuki. as far as you know, he’s never really had a stable relationship.

sure bakugou katsuki is a very upfront person, what you see is basically what you get. the loud angry screams, the cursing, the sometimes demeaning nicknames, the molten hot glare. he’s that with no problem, but he’s also a lot more quieter than strangers would expect, quiet, calculating, a perfectionist in everything that losing cannot be an option.

maybe that’s why when people slip into his bed for the night, a quick and easy way for him to release stress, and they think just for a moment: “I’ll be different, I’m not like the others” because he prefers them for more than one night, they fall apart when one day he drops them.

screaming, crying, and shrieking follows him as they all blame him for their broken heart. even though the very first night when his fingers hooked under their shirt, he warned them: this is just sex.

it’s just sex for him, never for them.

but a scandal breaks loose one day, because even if he was a top three pro hero, not even his title could save him from the wrath of the daughter of a multibillion dollar investor. his sex life is outed, and when old partners come forward to say that yes, he lead them on and dropped them at the first convenience!!!! his ability to pick up on partners tanks.

but you’ve been in love with bakugou for the past two years, quietly waiting for him to get to the stage of being ready to manage a romantic relationship on top of his career. and you notice his tense shoulders and quicker temper. your friends he used to sleep with have partnered off already, happily in committed relationships with no room for bakugou.

it’s after the third wailing intern that you finally approach and give him your offer.

“i can’t promise I won’t break your heart,” he huffs, half joking, half bitter from the avalanche of bad pr he’s been through.

you stare at him, knowing it’s stupid to even try, but you shrug slowly, “that’s okay…” his eyes meet yours. “as long as it’s mine and not yours.”

so a relationship begins. the two of you begin having sex that sends your head into the sky, and your heart further into your throat. everyone, your friends especially, tell you it’s a bad idea.

don’t casually sleep with someone you love.

it never ends well.

but you don’t listen.

bakugou comes over for sex once a week, which slowly evolves into two to four times. sleeping over slowly happens, and breakfast and lunch is sometimes even shared. he swipes food from your plate, and you rant about your terrible day. he walks you home after drunken nights out with friends, and clothes slowly bleed into each other’s closets. his nickname for you is dropped soon enough, and it’s just your first name that rolls off his tongue that makes you want to shiver.

some nights you don’t even have sex at all. just bodies pressed against each other with heavy eyes and tracing fingers.

but you show up unannounced one day, nothing out of the blue because you both do it practically every day. both your orders from a take out restaurant in your hand, and case files in another. you just wanted to have dinner with him and go over work.

words ring through your memories as you watch bakugou stand straight up off the couch, a person with blue hair tumbling off his lap immediately.

you’re not naive, not a fool. you see ruffled hair, a shirt that’s halfway off, and red eyes that scream: fuck.

but you remember his warning, his heed, and even if it’s been a year and a half of whatever this was — friends with benefits, you remind yourself coldly — you don’t react.

“sorry!” you apologize, hands slamming back to the doorknob, trying to give them space. “I didn’t realize you were having someone over tonight! please continue!! ignore me!!”

“the least you can do is leave the food behind,” the stranger huffs on the floor, once flushed cheeks pale. excited eyes now fed up.

you freeze, but nod in agreement, you didn’t need to eat this food anymore. plus bakugous order was in it.

“y/n—“

“consider this my apology!” you laugh, the sound much more natural then you ever thought possible. “have fun, you two!”

you’re home faster then you can blink, and your couch with his burnt orange blanket on it seems like a joke.

still, the tears don’t fall.

you expected this.

you knew.

a thunderous knock echoes through your apartment, and your chest feels sourly numb as you open it.

there bakugou stands, face contorted with emotions you couldn’t read, sweatshirt wrinkly and backward.

“y/n—” he tries again but you don’t want to hear what he needs to say.

“I told you already, katsuki,” you say softly, the smile on your face small, knowing, yet somehow still kind. “I told you that it was okay. as long as it was my heart that broke, and not yours.”

you shrug again, watching his jaw drop but no words passed.

you inhale slowly, and smile wider at him.

“thank you for everything though, I really enjoyed myself.”

and before bakugou can even let out a whisper, the door clicks in his face.

You’re doing research in an old library when a stranger comes running up to you. They go to give you a hug while saying, “My love.” You flinch away and their expression falls. Under their breath they say, “Fuck. Wrong timeline.”

True ⚬ Colours

Them