Bakugo Doesnt Do Up His Top Button Because The Uniform Shirt Doesnt Stretch Over His Massive Badonkers,

Bakugo doesn’t do up his top button because the uniform shirt doesn’t stretch over his massive badonkers, and I will not be accepting criticism.

I dunno if this is already a thing, but I think we should start a trend where someone writes a short story but leaves it open ended then someone reblogs it with a small continuation and we just let it keep growing and see what happens…

I want to see more fanfics about Bakugo and his pretty s/o who looks like actual ass in pictures. Like, there are plenty of people who are not photogenic and think we need to address this.

Bakugo : Oi, dumbass, look over here.

S/O : Wut—

Flash

S/O : ...

Bakugo : ...

S/O : Did you just take a picture of me?

Bakugo : The hell is wrong with your face?!

Hehe, I like it

Honestly though, Bakugo would probably get really pissed at the camera.

Bakugo : This thing's a piece of shit.

Bakugo : Damn camera making my s/o look like a horse

Beauty's in the eye of the beholder or whatever, right? So how about Bakugo with a s/o who always looks awful on photos but he manages to capture perfect photos that make them look stunning.

S/O : I hate photos.

Bakugo : Just one princess.

I would love to tell you all that I've been busy writing—like a good little unpaid author—but you all deserve the truth and that truth is... I have been... distracted...

Your Bakugou's fluff is soo good!

M-me?? Tanku sm 🥺

This is basically a shitpost and it’s gotten more attention than a few of my better posts and I just want to say I respect that

I just want you to know that if class 1-A had to pair up for sit-ups, I would be with Bakugo so I could sit on his feet and rest my arms on his knees. Then I'd rest my cheek on my arms with a smirk and watch the flustered blush on his pretty face deepen each time he rose up—inches from my face. He'd finally be all ‟The hell are you doing?‟ And I'd smile, rising up a little to meet him as he came up from another sit up. He'd act tough but we all know his heart would be skipping like the classic school girl with a fat crush and he'd pout, lips inches from mine. I'd tilt my head to make that space a mere centimeter then, I'd flick my eyes up to his and smile. ‟Your feet smell like ass.‟ And I'd run away as he tried to kill me.