Hes Everything To Me - Tumblr Posts
I need to compress him in a hydraulic press into a small travel sized disc and keep him in my pocket at all times
poketober day 17!! prompt was pokemon oc!!! heres kitkat the skitty, hes a bit silly alot of the time :3
Rewatching Naruto once again and god I can’t wait to fall in love with kakashi all over again.
“Army, you’re in my heart. Please accept this love of mine. You’re in my heart.”
hobi via instagram 220715
It's A Great Day ❤️🔥
Matt Murdock is the type of guy to have an entire piano fall on him because he got distracted by something and then he pokes his head out from the top to have cartoon birds and stars spinning around his head while he goes "Well at least it can't get any worse." before an anvil gets dropped onto his head with a loud BANG sound.
ok but can we talk about how martin is such a manipulative lying little bastard. like the fandom likes to make him soft and scared (never mind the fact that this man likes spiders, my greatest fear) but he lied on his CV and got away with it for a while, fed jon lies on the tapes, manipulated peter lukas?? peter lukas???? stood up to elias while burning statements, and knew elias would come at him about his mother and was prepared to feel that and then move on because he had work to do
like this isn’t even getting to any of his behavior in S5. we gotta stop downplaying martin i need more content about him just straight up lying!
joon’s ending ment at permission to dance on stage: los angeles ♡
I’m sick of y’all bashing my boy
Okay, let’s be for real here.
I am the same age as Grayson Hawthorne. And if I fell deeply in love with someone a few years back, and was in this complicated love triangle with my sibling, and then that someone I fell in love with died, and it appears to be my fault…
That would’ve fucked me up for years. Maybe even for life.
I know people usually disregard traumatic things like this in books because they already realize that this fictional. But the story itsself doesn’t know it’s fictional, because within that book everything is rule, just like the lives we are living right now, is real. If that makes sense.
So let’s put outrselves in Grayson’s shoes for once.
Blaming yourself for someone’s death is one of the the worst things that you can do to yourself. It will destroy you, point blank. And to carry a burden like that at such a young age, during a time where you don’t know what the fuck to do with your life, especially since he was disinherited out of no where, after being grromed to become a deattached heir—it has to be damaging.
And then he finally does fall in love with someone else—as in Avery—he can’t express it, he can’t pursue anything because, once again, his brother is involved and also, Grayson will NOT let himself feel, whether he’s still in love with Emily, or he still blames himsself for his death, or he simply doesn’t think he’s worth it. So what does he do? He doesn’t even try. He steps back, knowing damn well he’s in love with that girl, and leaves open room and practically pushes Jameson to have a bigger chance to be with Avery.
This is fucked up. No matter how you see it. No matter what you think. Grayson’s trauma is hell, and it’s hell because this could literally happen in real life. This isn’t like some crazy shit happened like fantasy stories. I bet you there a millions of other people right now that don’t think they are enough, and I bet there are some people out there that blames themselves for someone else dying. That is one of the hardest things to live with and kudos to Gray for living through it, because I don’t know man… that shit is rough.
i present: jacob drawfee's slow descent into woody from toy story while playing mario
suggestive. college au boyfriend!bakugou. installment II “poor timing”
He’s barely awake when he picks up his phone from where it’s charging near the bed, blearily sliding in one of his amplifiers as he presses it to the side of his head.
“Th’fuck are you callin’ me at 2am for?”
Kirishima pauses from his side of the line, curious male voices leaking into the speaker that irritate in their familiarity. “Are you just waking up?”
“What the fuck else would I be doing?”
“That’s what I’m wondering too.” He plops himself on the large bean bag sitting in the middle of his roommates floor, after knocking on his door for what felt like hours. Kaminari starfishes against his comforter, and he has to snap a few times to stop Sero from going through his friend’s stuff.
“Dude, where are you?” He asks. “Your truck’s not in the parking lot. Are you at a hotel?”
Bakugou stays silent for a long moment, fleeting as it is, it's a little disconcerting, and the chat runs empty as the sound of a running fan hisses through the static.
He sighs, brief movement stirs sleepily under his bicep and he figures it’s best to end this conversation as quickly as possible. “I’m with ____.”
“You’re-“ Kirishima stammers a little. “Can you say that again?”
“I’m at _____’s apartment.” Bakugou repeats himself - he’s obviously trying to be quiet.
“No fucking way! Dude?!” Kaminari chimes in from somewhere in the room, because of course he’s on speaker. “Like is she right next to you?”
“Can you be any fuckin’ louder?!” Bakugou whisper-yells.
“She totally is, isn’t she?” Sero chimes in. “Did you two fuck?”
Kirishima grimaces up at him from where he’s sitting. “Don’t be crude.” Though, he hesitates a moment before speaking a little closer to the speaker. “Wait, did you?”
Bakugou kisses his teeth. “What the hell was so fuckin’ important that you had to call me at two in the morning anyway?”
“Well, those of us who weren’t out getting some wanted to know if you wanted to play DnD. Since it’s the weekend and all.” Sero says.
“But I guess now you’re too good for the loser club, now that you’re some bigshot with a hot girlfriend.” Kaminari pouts.
Bakugou audibly scoffs. “I was never a part of the loser club to begin with.”
“Says the guy who’s gonna make us look for another DM in the middle of a campaign.” Kirishima retorts. “Seriously, you couldn’t have picked a better night to fuck ____? With you two gone Jirou’s gonna wanna take over your post - and she always gives us the worst scenarios.”
“They’re not that bad.” Bakugou jumps a little when the hand around his waist slithers to wipe at her sleepy eyes, cursing hushedly before the men hear him quietly apologize away from the speaker.
His three friends blush as a familiar voice leaks softly into the receiver.
“What’re you doing…?”
“…Nothin’, angel. Go back to sleep.”
The three squeal in unison.
Bakugou kisses his teeth again, whispering angrily into the speaker. “Shut the fuck up. And don’t call me this late, again!”
Click!
endearment
synopsis. first, second, and third instances; it's official, there's something going on with bakugou and you're determined to find out.
cw. fem!reader, pro hero!katsuki, aged-up (26 yrs old), established relationship, a lot of cursing
word count. 1.9k words
The first time it happens, you don’t think too much about it.
“Bakugou,” you call out from where you’re snuggled on his corduroy sofa. “Can you pass me some tissue?”
From the bathroom, you could hear a faint ‘tch’.
The sound of house slippers colliding with the tiled floor grows louder and louder until he finally emerges with a roll in his hand, which he promptly tosses to you.
You catch it—barely—and grin when you feel the thickness of the 3-ply roll, no doubt a staple in Bakugou Katsuki’s pristine apartment unit.
Go figure.
He’s circling the coffee table and plopping down next to you when your phone rings.
Confused, you pick up your phone to see a picture of you and Kirishima from your last get-together—his caller ID. Curious, Bakugou peers over your shoulder, frowning upon seeing his other best friend’s name.
“Isn’t he on patrol right now with Midoriya?” you ask.
Bakugou shrugs. “Answer it.”
Humming an okay, you click the accept button.
“Hey, Y/N! Is Bakubro with you right now?
You eye Bakugou, who’s pretending to be disinterested and not at all eavesdropping. “Yeah. What’s up?”
Kirishima laughs, “Can you tell him to check our group chat? Limited edition All Might merch just dropped.”
At that, you chuckle. “Got this Ei. He’s actually just beside me right now. I’ll make sure to tell him. And tell Izuku I said hi.”
You can practically hear the smile on his face when he says: “Thanks, bro! You’re the best.”
With that, you press the end call button and turn slightly to regard Bakugou, who’s now staring at his hands on his knees, what looks like a scowl etched on his face.
You poke at his side, trying to be playful.
“Aren’t you curious about what he had to say?”
He shakes his head before standing up and heading—again—to the bathroom.
Huh.
The second time it happens, it leaves you and your friends bewildered.
“And so that’s how yesterday’s patrol ended up with me getting a special interview with TBS,” Mina says proudly.
You chuckle, amused. “That’s amazing, Mina.”
From where she’s seated beside you in the booth of your favorite bar, she grins. “Yeah, well I try!”
Kirishima, who’s sitting opposite the both of you, chimes in. “You have to tell Bakubro that story.”
“Where is he, anyway?” Mina asks.
You squint, looking through the glass windows of the bar. “I think he’s still searching for a parking space.”
At that, Mina cocks her head to the side in confusion. “But it’s been a while since you guys arrived?”
“Yeah…”
You pick up your phone, thumbing through the contacts until you arrive at the one marked with the red asterisk.
Emergency contact.
You’re in the middle of quickly typing out a where r u when Mina, the ever meddling Mina, peers over your shoulder unbeknownst to you.
“You named his contact…Bakugou?”
Attention divided between texting and talking with your friends, you retort lamely with: “Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” Kirishima pipes up. “It’s just that couples usually save each other’s contacts as sweet pet names.”
Mina nods in agreement. “For example, I have Ei saved as baby, with a red heart.”
Before you can even defend yourself, let alone playfully gag at the nickname Mina has given Kirishima, Bakugou appears at your table, sitting down at the booth next to Kirishima and in front of you, uncharacteristically quiet.
When you lock eyes, you raise your eyebrows ever so slightly— denoting a question: everything okay?—but he doesn’t sustain eye contact.
Instead, he stands up again quite abruptly.
“Restroom,” he explains curtly, stuffing his hands in his pockets before walking away, leaving the three of you speechless.
The third time it happens, it happens in his childhood home.
You didn’t expect to meet his parents this early on in the relationship; you haven’t even been together for a year. Yet Bakugou was determined to introduce you to them, said something about his sharp intuition telling him something or whatever.
Which is how you now find yourself in the living room of the place where he grew up, poring over photo albums like how dehydrated animals in hot climates pore over water.
With his mother, of all people.
“And this is him when his quirk first manifested,” Mitsuki explains, speeding through the pages of the album whilst grinning. You can’t help but grin back.
She points to a rather old photograph on the last page. “And this one is him playing baseball in 8th grade.”
Intrigued, you move closer to see the picture, smiling when you spot him, crimson eyes and ash blonde locks sticking out like a rose amidst the thorny bushes—impossible to miss.
Wanting to fill the air, you offer: “Bakugou was a very cute kid, Mitsuki-san.”
In a flash, she looks up at you, a puzzled look decorating her beautiful features, instead of the look of gratitude you were aiming for.
When you look back at her with confused eyes yourself, she asks, “You still call each other by your last name?”
“Oh—I—uh…”
You eye Bakugou who’s in the kitchen, chopping fresh vegetables for the salad, as per his mother’s instructions.
You convince yourself that he’s got to be out of earshot.
Stumbling over your words again, you scramble for purchase. “Well—”
To your relief, Mitsuki only laughs good-naturedly in response, cutting you off.
“Don’t worry, Y/N. I know my Katsuki can be a bit intimidating sometimes, but inside he’s a real softie who appreciates the little things.”
You could simply nod in response.
From the kitchen, Bakugou announces: “I’m going to the restroom. Start eating without me.”
A fourth time does not end up happening.
Instead, you find yourself riding the elevator to the rooftop of Bakugou’s apartment complex, where he’s already waiting for you.
‘I’ll just go ahead’ is what he said after both of you finished cleaning the dishes from dinner. ‘Make sure to catch up’.
Before you know it, the elevator doors slide open and you step out, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the heavy feeling now sitting in your stomach.
Will you finally figure out why Bakugou’s been acting a bit off lately?
You immediately spot him, back turned against you, and arms folded across his chest, resting on top of the railing.
Slowly, you walk towards him, ultimately situating yourself to his right.
A tense—albeit not uncomfortable—silence falls upon you.
Neither of you says anything until you pipe up with: “Is there bad news?”
At that, he finally turns his head to look at you. “Hah?”
You school your expression into a pensive one. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“What?” he exclaims, his entire body now facing you in a frantic hurry. “No!”
You chuckle. “Then what’s with the bad news face?”
“Bad news face?”
Nodding, you continue. “The face you make when you hear or are about to deliver bad news. It’s the more solemn iteration of your scowl.”
“What—” he scoffs, although he sounds pleased, “—You’ve fucken memorized my expressions?”
You shrug sheepishly.
When he doesn’t say anything in return, you prod further. “How bad is it?”
He huffs, breaking eye contact. “No bad news. Just—it’s…shit, never mind.”
“It’s just me,” you remind him. “It’s okay.”
With your reassurance, you can see his body relaxing a little bit, though he still refuses to say anything.
A few more seconds of tense silence pass before Bakugou finally looks you straight in the eye.
“Why the fuck do you call me Bakugou?
You stare at him. “...because it’s your name?”
Whatever he wanted to hear from you, it sure wasn’t that.
He scoffs. “Yeah? Well, why do you call shitty hair Ei or shitty deku Izuku? Have I failed some fucking test to qualify for first name privileges?”
“What are you talking about?”
This is what made him act weirdly the past week?
“Don’t make me say it again, woman,” he spits, although there’s not much venom coating his words.
“God,” he combs through his hair in frustration, “this is fucking humiliating.”
“I call you Bakugou because that’s what I called you back when we were just friends,” you try to reason. “Also, I…I didn’t want to start calling you Katsuki out of nowhere.
“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” you finish, voice small.
“Who said I wanted you to call me that?”
You shoot him a knowing look.
You stare at each other for a few more seconds before he groans in defeat, turning to face the city skyline instead of you. You follow suit, opting to look up at the stars that seem to be twinkling extra tonight.
Moments pass with neither of you saying anything.
You gently bump his shoulder with yours.
“For what it’s worth,” you start, “I don’t think there’s anything to be embarrassed about.”
He only grunts in response. You press on.
“The fact that you just told me all this…I don’t know. It makes me happy. It’s sort of like saying you care enough about our relationship to communicate even the most ‘humiliating’—your words not mine—of concerns.
“Of course I fucking do, dumbass,” he retorts. “Wouldn’t have confessed to you if I was just gonna chicken out at some point like a loser.”
You smile at him and his words, and you hope your adoration translates to your face, because the thing with Bakugou is that sometimes you have to deliver the message without having to utter the words—all to preserve the moment before it’s adulterated by shame.
“Right,” you look at him, “why don’t you call me by my first name?”
“Figured I haven’t earned it yet,” he says bluntly.
Amused, you push forward. “And how were you planning to earn it?”
He shoots you a glare. “By being the best fucking boyfriend, that’s how.”
At that, you cannot help the delighted laughter that erupts from you.
He side-eyes you, annoyed, though a smile manages to crack through the facade.
“Stop laughing at me.”
And when you don’t: “Hey.”
“Sorry, sorry,” you exclaim, trying to catch your breath. “I’m just happy.”
He studies you for a beat, eyes fluttering across your face as if he’s searching for something. You feel yourself grow warmer under his piercing gaze.
There’s a pregnant pause before he finally says: “Call me Katsuki.”
You grin, “Okay, Katsuki.”
At your mention of his name, the scowl plastered on his face eases a little into a neutral—borderline happy—expression.
“And I’ll call you by your first name…” he declares, “if you’re fine with it or if not, just forget I said that.”
You take his hand and squeeze it before he can ramble some more.
“Sounds good to me, Katsuki.”
bonus:
“I swear,” you argue while putting on your shoes, “I can ride the subway, Katsuki.”
“At this hour?” he snorts.
“Best fucking boyfriend, remember?” he sneers as he obtains his car keys by the doorway. “Just let me do this for you.”
You relent, knowing better than to fight with Katsuki on the matter of your safety, when suddenly a brilliant idea dawns on you.
Straightening up, you say: “I don’t think I saw you drinking water after dinner, Katsuki.”
“What?”
“Go hydrate yourself,” you command.
At that, he grumbles but submits to you anyway, walking back to his tidy kitchen.
Once you see that he’s in the middle of chugging down a bottle, you call: “Katsuki?”
He grunts—the best he can do while downing a bottle of water—in response.
“Can I call you babe?”
Bakugou chokes on his spit.
tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19