dirtbagattack

Latest Posts by dirtbagattack

hii i’m gonna give some quotes from the guy I am talking to that he said to me because i’m borderline obsessed. and you can request a little ficlet/ hcs with each of these quotes in my inbox! just say which character you want and what number quote!!

1. “dear, your shirt is falling off. Not that I’m opposed to that sight, I just wanted to make sure you knew about it.”

2. “I love seeing a fellow bisexual baddie in the field of autism!”

3. “We are literally two balls in a sack.”

4. “can i show you a magic trick?” *puts gasoline in his mouth and puts a lighter in his mouth and lights it*

5. ”I’d love to fornicate with you. Wait, what if I get pregnant?”

6. “Do you like my new shirt? If not you can take it off. Say you don’t like my shirt.”

7. (when talking about my ex) “He fumbled a baddie. I can find him and piss on him if you want.”

8. (after i told him i saw a wiener dog) “I want your wiener daddy.” (he’s joking if you cannot tell)

You better write those fics we talked about 😈

oh god im scared

things i think denki would do whilst flirting:

- if you were sad about something or having a bad day he’d write you a rap about it

example of his rap:

“i’m a lyrical genius

bars go hard like an erect penis”

- would ironically call you mommy

- if you sent a photo of yourself he’d reply to it with “i just busted”

- will facetime you whilst on the toilet

- will say out of pocket/ freaky things then just shout “pause!” after as if it’s like a rewind button for real life

- is so down bad it’s actually kind of funny

- says like horribly disgusting things and it’s never really clear if he’s joking or not but it’s also endearing in a way

example:

y/n: hold on i’ll be back, i have to use the restroom.

denki: why go to the restroom when i could be your toilet

- calls you dear

- is absolutely evil if you’re easily flustered

- gets unreasonably upset when you don’t tell him something

(this is utterly and totally inspired and directly taken from the guy im currently talking to)

Daily Neuro-Divergent Character #53

@dirtbagattack!

Aka one of my irl besties!

She canonically has Autism and ADHD!

Happy birthday!

Daily Neuro-Divergent Character #47

Tsuyu Asui!

Aka Froppy!

From My Hero Academia / Boku No Hero Academia!

Asui has Autism in our hearts! (Head Canon)

just watched bottoms and oh my god i’m so gay

i love hazel

#needthat

MHA CHARACTERS AS RANDOM SHIT ME AND MY FRIENDS TEXTED EACH OTHER

@misssprinkles @matcopii

uraraka + mina

———

jiro + momo

———

shinso + monoma

———

sero

———

bakugo

———

iida + denki

———

jiro

———

kirishima

———

Izuku

———

Denki

HIII I love ur smaus and the way you write the characters are just ,,,,,jdjdjdjjs anwyas,, could u mayhaps pls do a Bakugou x romantically oblivious reader?? I just think the dynamic would be hilarious LOLL !! ty and hope u have a great day/night!! :)) <33

wait, are you flirting? | k. bakugo

bakugo is very obviously into you. you think he's just a strangely intense friend.

reblog if you're gay, not gay, slightly gay, or if you just want to launch donald trump into a dying star

If ghosts were real—well, Bakugou didn’t believe in ghosts, but if they did exist—they lived in the spaces people left behind.

And you happened to have left behind too many.

It wasn’t just the obvious things. Not the clothes still folded in your drawers, untouched. Not the way your books still sat on the shelves, the spines cracked from overuse, the pages filled with notes in the margins. Not even the stupid coffee mug you always used, the one you once swore made everything taste better, still sitting exactly where you left it on the kitchen counter (because it had his and your face printed on it).

No, the spaces you left behind were quieter. More insidious.

Like the empty seat across from him at the dining table, where you used to sit, eating straight from the pot that one night because, “Why dirty another dish?”

Like the sound of the bathroom door not opening in the morning when he’s actually using the toilet—dammit, you didn’t even have the care in the world to give your boyfriend some privacy—the absence of your muttered complaints about how the water took too long to heat up.

Like the other side of the bed, cold and untouched, where he still reached out in his sleep, half expecting to find you there. Anticipating to hold you closer to him.

Grief was a strange thing to Bakugou.

It wasn’t like pain. Pain was easy. A broken rib, a busted lip, the sharp sting of impact—those things, he knew how to handle. You grit your teeth, you clench your fists, you keep moving. That was what you did. That was the kind of man he was.

But grief wasn’t like that.

It wasn’t a punch he could take and shake off. It was a weight pressing down on his chest, invisible but suffocating. It was the silence of an empty apartment. It was the echo of your voice in his head, the way his brain still filled in the blanks in conversations you should have been part of.

It was standing in the grocery store, staring at the shelf, reaching for the brand of tea you liked before stopping halfway, fingers hovering in the air, before dropping his hand back to his side.

What was the point?

He hated how much space you had taken up in his life. Hated how even in your absence, you still lingered, threading yourself through his routine, his thoughts, his goddamn muscle memory.

But more than anything, he hated how much he wanted it to stay.

Because if ghosts were real, then maybe—just maybe—you weren’t completely gone.

He hadn’t cried. Not when he first got the news. Not when he stood at the funeral, jaw locked so tight it ached. Not when he walked through your apartment alone for the first time, every corner of it filled with your presence, your things, the remnants of the life you lived.

But tonight, he was exhausted.

Physically. Mentally. It comes down on him like something tangible, something inescapable—all at once.

And for the first time in a long time, he spoke into the silence.

“…This is fucking stupid.”

His voice was hoarse, rough from disuse.

Nothing answered.

Of course, nothing answered.

Still, Bakugou exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’d be so pissed at me right now.”

The quiet stretched.

Bakugou let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Tch. You always said I was too stubborn for my own good. But look at you. Still haunting me, huh?”

His eyes flickered to the couch, where you used to sit cross-legged, laptop balanced on your knees, pretending to listen to whatever bullshit he was ranting about while actually getting work done.

A strange, bittersweet feeling lodged itself in his chest.

“…You remember that time you swore up and down that ghosts were real?” he muttered, voice quieter now. “I told you you were full of shit.”

Silence.

His fingers curled into fists. “Kinda wish you were right.”

No answer. No sign. Just the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the faint buzz of the city outside the window.

But in the quiet, he thought—just for a second—he could hear it.

A breath. A whisper of movement. The sound of something shifting just out of sight.

He knew it was nothing. Just his mind playing tricks on him.

But still, Bakugou closed his eyes, exhaled, and let himself pretend.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

Luigi x Luigi mangione

so no! love the enthusiasm though!!

it is not hard to be this man's enemy

i mean bakugo is the most aggravating person alive

and he is annoyed by everyone and everything

getting him to fall for you is the hard part

it would probably happen after you beat him in training

or even tied with him

and he realized how good you are

that's how you shifted in his eyes

and he tried to push you away more

you thought he hated you more than before

but little did you know ...

eventually he'd go out of his way to do little things for you

like making extra of his dinner ' on accident ' and deciding to give you said extras

he'd test the waters for so long before actually getting with you

he would ask you out , kinda takes it as a challenge

he'd be so scared to actually date you lowkey

he's never been in a relationship or even been romantically interested in someone before due to him being so focused on his goals

so you two take it veryyyy slow

@dirtbagattack

order a treat here

taglist - @justmylvr @lwcedribbons @im0nsaturn @n3r0-5352 @dvartefox @failurewater @f0reverfaded @t0asty1 @iv-vee @mp3nai

ⓒ luvseraph

Timothee chalamet x fornite

ill let you write this one pal

tracing secrets onto your skin. e!kirishima

in which you are stuck in a hotel room, with the guy you've loved for years. and oh did i mention? there's only one bed.

authors note: 1.3k words! one bed trope, pure fluff, mutual pining. this is so similar to a shoujo manga. m.list <3

You and Kiri had been assigned a mission together in a completely different country, but now, arriving at the already booked hotel room—the one the HPSC had provided, courtesy of you both saving the day—there was one slight problem.

Upon stepping inside, weak bruised aching limbs and battered hearts, you opened the door to reveal only one bed.

Yep. Only one bed.

And to make matters worse, it was incredibly small—supposedly a queen, but barely bigger than a twin. And who was standing next to you? Only the guy you’d been painstakingly in love with for three years now. Ever since you first saw him as a first-year at U.A., with his sharp teeth and kind eyes, you had been on the floor for him.

You and Kiri were friends—sort of? Maybe? It was complicated. He was nice to everyone, and it was hard to call someone like that a friend when they belonged to everyone. Mr. Aizawa had always partnered the two of you together. At first, you weren’t sure why, but then you realized—it was because you hesitated. You were shy, timid, and always second-guessing yourself even when you knew you were capable. And Kirishima was loud, outgoing, and so completely kind, that he had a way of making people feel so sure of themselves, which is exactly what you had needed.

Being the gentleman he was, Kirishima immediately insisted on taking the floor. And by the time you emerged from the shower, hair damp and clinging to your face, wrapped in a shirt far too big for you, he was already curled up on the ground.

You climbed into the plush bed, the blankets swallowing you whole in their softness, but your mind couldn’t settle. Not when you knew his back was aching from today’s mission. Not when you knew his body was probably in even worse shape than yours.

You swallowed down the thoughts, let them mix inside like creamer in coffee, before finally whispering, as softly as ever, as if your words could shatter the distance you’d held between him and your heart for so long.

"Kiri?"

He responded quickly—faster than you expected. Your heart clamored against your ribs as he spoke your name so sweetly, laced with the haze of sleep, like he was stumbling through a dream.

"Yeah?"

You hesitated before murmuring, “Come sleep on the bed. The floor is cold and hard, and I know you’re hurting, Kirishima.”

He swallowed, his hesitation stretching into the dimly lit room, then cut through the tension with a quiet chuckle. “No, the bed’s for you. I’m okay.”

But you weren’t convinced. 

You leaned over the edge, your long hair spilling down, a tendril brushing against his cheek. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a silver glow over his face as his gaze flickered up towards yours, his crimson eyes shining in the glow. His gaze softening as he reached up, twirling a lock of your hair between his calloused fingers.

Your heart beat louder. Faster. It was dangerously close to falling right into his hands, to be held and guarded by him.

You spoke again, this time more hesitantly, afraid your words wouldn’t reach him.

"Please, Kiri?"

He just stared at you, like you were the most fascinatingly beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Like he saw straight through your beating heart to the secrets you held captive. And then, finally, he agreed.

The bed dipped beneath his weight as he climbed in beside you.

The room was filled with silence, save for the soft rhythm of your breathing and the distant sounds of the busy street below. Then, finally, Kirishima spoke—his voice soft, yet raspy, like the soft currents of waves nipping at your feet.

"Thank you."

And you echoed it back. "Thank you."

The silence stretched, turning the room upside down. You listened to the way he shifted, turned, unable to get comfortable. With a bit of confidence, you finally asked, "Having trouble sleeping?"

He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, like he wanted to downplay it, to make it seem not that bad. But you knew him better than that. You knew he was hurting. And you knew he wouldn’t admit it.

"Is it your back?"

He exhaled. "Yeah… strained myself today. Should’ve known when to quit."

You pocketed the last bit of his sentence away in your mind, tucking it into the back of your thoughts like a trinket, to find later but in this case to bring up later. Then Slowly, cautiously, you reached out, your fingertips ghosting over his scarred skin “Is… this okay? I just want to help.”

His breath hitched. Then, after a moment, he murmured, “Yeah.”

Carefully, you ran your fingers over his scarred back, kneading at the sore muscles along his shoulders, pressing into the tension lingering in his body. Your touch grew bolder, tracing the sharp ridges of his shoulder blades, following the delicate line of his spine. He smelled like warmth, like golden honey bottled up with love, like spring flowers dipped in sunshine,mixed with the lingering glances and hidden touches of a teenage love scorned into the pages of a romance novel.

He was everything you’d ever want. Something you would chase—not in a bruised, bloodied-knees, face-full-of-dirt kind of way, but in the way a child chases bubbles, laughing as each one pops. In the way you run toward the sound of the ice cream truck, sneakers untied, heart racing for something sweet.

With every soft breath he let out, it was like tuning into a radio signal— the softness of the faint static giving way to something clearer. Your fingers trailed absentmindedly, and he let them, his body still, his breaths shallow. 

Your fingers mapping out something secret, something you’d never been brave enough to say. And with shaky hands, you finally traced the words—

"I love you."

You lingered on the last letter longer than you should have.

Then—

A sharp intake of breath.

Before you could react, he turned over, grasping your wrist in his free hand, enclosing your fingers within his own. His red eyes bore into yours, searching, uncertain.

"You… said you loved me," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Well… you traced it on my back."

Your eyes widened. And for a moment, you felt like you were thirteen again, drowning in the dizzying rush of first love, when every feeling was new and everything mattered too much.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, already turning over, already bracing yourself for rejection.

But then he shifted, moving closer, his body hovering slightly over yours, eyes locked onto your face.

"I'm not good with words," he admitted, voice rough, quiet. "Can I show you instead?"

You barely realized you nodded until you felt the vibration of your own agreement, your breath caught in your throat.

His hands—so big, so strong, so gentle—cradled your face like you were porcelain, like he was learning how to be careful with something fragile. And then his lips met yours.

Hesitant. Careful. You could taste his uncertainty, but as your hands threaded through his soft, unstyled red hair, as your fingers traced the edges of his jaw, dancing across his skin, eliciting goosebumps he eased into it—deeper, surer. Your bodies slotted together, moving in perfect harmony, wrapped in warmth and the quiet, breathless overwhelming ecstasy of everything unsaid.

Bodies slotting together, sheets shifting beneath your weight, drowning in something too big to name.

Kissing him felt like the summer afterglow, mosquitos nipping at your flesh with sticky hands from a melted popsicle.

And when he finally pulled away, the moonlight glowing against his face,  his hand ghosted over your collarbone, tracing the same words you had left on his skin.

"I love you."

With the same hesitation. The same gentleness. The same certainty.

LOVERS ROCK.

ft. h. shinsou x reader

˖⁺‧₊˚ tags/warnings: fluff !! , reader has tattoos and piercings, eri and shinsou are aizawa's adopted kids, established relationship

note: my submission for @https-bakugo's event, congrats on 250 followers !! I got a little carried away with the "drabble" hehe

Shinsou wasn’t used to softness, to someone looking at him like he was worth holding onto. But then you came along and ruined that for him. Years later, he was still getting used to it.

Which was why, when you leaned down to kiss him, your lip ring cool against his lips, he still turned pink in the cheeks about it.

“God, you’re so in love with me,” you teased, voice low and amused.

Shinsou scoffed, trying (and failing) to will the heat from his face. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly subtle either.” His eyes flickered to where your fingers were absentmindedly tracing the veins on his forearm.

You hummed, unbothered. “Never planned to be.”

That was another thing about you, your confidence. It wrecked him. He had spent so long second-guessing himself, wondering if people wanted him around. And then you appeared, all pretty smiles, inked skin, and that ridiculous ability to know exactly what he needed.

He thought back to the early days, when your relationship was still new and awkward in that stupidly endearing way. Two friends navigating the space between them, learning each other’s rhythms, unsure of what was too much or what wasn’t enough. He remembered the first time he kissed you, the way his lips caught on the cool metal of your lip ring, the shiver it sent down his spine, how his hands instinctively gripped your waist. He’d never kissed anyone with a piercing before.

Then there were your tattoos. He didn’t know why they fascinated him so much. Maybe it was the way the ink settled into your skin, or maybe it was because he had spent so much of his life feeling invisible, yet here you were; bold, defined, and seen.

Tracing over them had become a habit. He couldn't keep his hands to himself for long and would find himself dragging his fingers along the intricate designs. He liked the contrast; his rough calloused hands against the smooth ink of your skin. Sometimes, he’d imagine adding to them, his own marks on you, in places only he could see.

Shaking his head at the thought, he swallowed hard. He avoided your gaze as his fingers trailed along the ink on your arm, watching the way your body instinctively leaned into his touch. “Still think you made a mistake?” he mumbled, only half-teasing, self deprecation slipping easily off his tongue.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “If I wanted out, don’t you think I’d be gone by now?”

That shut him up. Logic told him you weren’t going anywhere; it was in the matching marks on your necks, his faded band shirt slipping off your shoulder, the cosigned cat purring in his lap. But logic didn’t quiet the part of him that still felt like a kid, like the outcast who was too much trouble to be around.

Sighing, you tilted his chin up, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “I love you.” A kiss, pressed slow and deliberate to the corner of his mouth. “And I’m yours.” Another kiss, this time catching his bottom lip, lip ring clicking against his teeth. “So stop worrying about things that’ll never happen.”

He hummed, leaning into you, letting himself be wrapped in your warmth. Burying his face in your neck, he huffed a laugh as your fingertip traced over his chest, crossing his heart.

“Besides,” you murmured, amusement lacing your tone. “You’re hopelessly in love with me.”

He flicked your side, making you yelp. “Yeah, yeah.”

A few weeks later, while babysitting Eri, a thought hit him like a freight train.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, Eri perched in your lap, tiny fingers grasping colored markers as she carefully filled in the lines of a tattoo on your forearm.

Shinsou, half-dozing on the other end of the couch, cracked an eye open at the sound of your laugh. “Looks great, kiddo,” you said, smiling as Eri beamed up at you.

His heart clenched.

The domesticity of it, the way you cradled Eri so easily, the way she trusted you, the way you just fit into his world, it hit him all at once. And then his mind betrayed him, spiraling into thoughts of a future with you.

Later that night, you were curled up beside him, sprawled across his bed, your legs draped over his lap. You looked sleep-soft and warm. His fingers toyed with the charms on your anklet, his initials among them, a gift he’d given you. It made his throat tighten.

He felt stupid. You hadn’t even said anything, and here he was, acting like some lovesick idiot, giddy over the thought of having his mark on you, as if the ones that littered your neck weren’t enough.

You glanced at him, noticing his silence. “Toshi,” you murmured, linking your pinky with his. “You okay?”

Shinsou swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He exhaled. “Just… thinking.”

You squeezed his finger. “Good thoughts?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “Something like that.”

You studied him for a second longer before deciding to let it go, tugging him closer until his head rested against your shoulder.

And just like that, the weight in his chest lifted.

He really, really hoped this was forever and judging by the sound of your quickened heartbeat, he hopes you do too.

© property of cyberesc 2025. please refrain from plagiarizing any of my works and do not repost/copy onto any other sites.

my brother wrote this. if you think what i write is strange please refer to this.

Bruno Encanto gets drafted in Vietnam

Okay okay

So let me set the scene

It’s the mid 60s and the encanto family is in encanto house

Grandma: Bruno…

Bruno: Yes ma

Grandma: I need to tell you something

Bruno: Shoot

Grandma: u got drafted in nam

Bruno: Zoinks

Grandma: my Bruno WhY *cries softly*

Bruno: It’ll be okay ma

Grandma: ok Gn

Next Morning

Bruno: Family I have something to tell you

Strong one: what is it

Bruno im drafted to viesnam

Ten years later Bruno died in war

All family in unison:

This is the true reason we don’t talk about Bruno

if my friend group was mha characters we’d be:

- uraraka

- shinso

- mina

-kirishima

-jiro

-sero

wait why are we lowkey the coolest characters

bakusquad <3333

sero is taking their picture btw

based on this reference image i saw on pinterest haha !!

oh they definitely talk shit about people LMAO

i hc that bakugo is a dick because he has sensory issues and is constantly overstimulated

like i love class 1a but id be overstimulated too if i had to spend more than 5 minutes with all of them

he probably keeps noise cancelling earplugs on him at all times because his quirk is really loud, and also because sometimes he just needs some quiet

aizawa knows that he has sensory issues (and also has sensory issues too) so he always lets him eat in the classroom when it’s too loud or busy in the cafeteria

part of the reason why he’s so rude is because he’s always on his last nerve

his close friends know this and don’t take it personally

rocker sero hcs

bro plays guitar

specifically rhythm guitar

is always high at band practice and claims it helps him play better

constantly losing picks everywhere

the trail to everywhere he walks is like in hansel and gretel except instead of crumbs it’s guitar picks

has a black and yellow electric guitar

will stop playing to start dancing if the song is extra good

give me requests for others if yall are liking this rocker thing

ps: there’s this guy im in a show with who is literally sero and i love him and his gf so much they’re literally like my mother and father

this made me giggle especially the hawks and aizawa ones

MHA Characters Getting "The Talk"

Warning: awkwardness ahead. This is pure stupid crack.

Inspired by a JJK version of this on tiktok by @ matt_the_curtin

How do the guys react to recieving 'the talk'

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya, Toshinori Yagi (All Might), Katsuki Bakugo, Best Jeanist, Fumikage Tokoyami, Keigo Takami (Hawks), Tamaki Amajiki, Fatgum, Tomura Shigaraki, Toya Todoroki (Dabi), Hitoshi Shinso, Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead), Shoto Todoroki, Enji Todoroki (Endeavor)

Izuku Midoriya – Getting "The Talk" from Toshinori Yagi (All Might)

Toshinori Yagi sat across from Izuku Midoriya, looking extremely uncomfortable as he clasped his hands together. Sweat dripped down his face as he tried to find the right words.

"Y-Young Midoriya," he coughed. "I… uh… I feel that, as your mentor, it's my duty to, er, educate you on… certain aspects of life."

Izuku blinked. "Oh! Like hero strategy? The importance of recovery time after a big battle?"

"No." Toshinori's face paled. "I-I mean… relationships. Love. And… physical intimacy."

Izuku turned bright red. "OH GOD."

"YES, EXACTLY!" Toshinori shouted, dramatically pointing at him. "GOD HELP US BOTH!"

There was an awkward silence.

Toshinori cleared his throat. "Ahem. So. When two people care for each other very much—"

"PLEASE STOP."

Toshinori held up a shaky finger. "No, no, listen, Young Midoriya. I must do this! It is my responsibility!" He inhaled deeply. "It is much like a United States of Smash—except instead of destroying an enemy, you are—"

"OH MY GOD, PLEASE NO!" Izuku covered his ears, mortified. "DON’T RUIN SMASH ATTACKS FOR ME, SENSEI!"

Toshinori’s gaunt cheeks turned red. "S-sorry."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"...Do you have any questions?" Toshinori finally asked.

Izuku stood up. "I HAVE TO GO STUDY FOR A TEST!"

"But there’s no test!"

"THERE IS NOW!"

And with that, Midoriya ran.

Outcome: All Might is traumatized. Izuku never looks at him the same way again.

Katsuki Bakugo – Getting "The Talk" from Best Jeanist

Best Jeanist sat elegantly in his chair, hands clasped, posture impeccable. Across from him, Katsuki Bakugo slumped aggressively, arms crossed, looking seconds away from combusting.

"Katsuki," Best Jeanist said, his voice smooth. "It is my duty as your mentor to educate you on a matter most delicate."

Bakugo scowled. "If this is about ‘being a proper gentleman,’ I’m out."

Jeanist exhaled through his nose. "No, my unruly pupil. This is about intimacy."

Bakugo's eye twitched.

Jeanist continued. "Love is a fabric that must be woven carefully. Each strand—trust, respect, communication—is vital. And much like a fine pair of denim—"

"NO." Bakugo stood up. "NO DENIM ANALOGIES, YOU WEIRD STRING BEAN!"

Jeanist ignored him. "A strong foundation is crucial, lest one suffer a wardrobe malfunction, if you understand my meaning."

Bakugo’s hands literally sparked.

Jeanist smiled, unfazed. "And of course, protection is important. Just as one would not step into battle without proper armor, one must also ensure—"

"STOP TALKING!" Bakugo turned completely red. "I’M OUT! I’M DONE! I’M NOT LISTENING TO A GUY IN A DENIM TURTLENECK TALK ABOUT CONDOMS!"

And with that, he exploded through the nearest window.

Outcome: Best Jeanist remains unbothered. Bakugo needs therapy.

Fumikage Tokoyami – Getting "The Talk" from Hawks

Hawks leaned back in his chair, casually tossing popcorn into his mouth. "Alright, kid. So. Birds and bees talk. Let’s go."

Fumikage Tokoyami stared at him. "...I already know about birds."

Hawks grinned. "Not like this, you don’t."

Tokoyami sighed. "This is unnecessary. My path is one of solitude and darkness. I have no need for such knowledge."

Hawks waggled his eyebrows. "Yeah? Well, when your Dark Shadow isn’t the only thing rising at night, you might wanna reconsider."

Tokoyami froze.

Dark Shadow: "BRO, WHAT THE HELL?!"

"HAWKS." Tokoyami gripped the edge of the table, visibly trembling. "DO NOT SPEAK OF SUCH MATTERS!"

Hawks chuckled. "Relax, Bird Boy. I got your back." He tossed a condom at him. "Use that if you ever wanna fly south for the winter, yeah?"

Tokoyami practically flew out of the room.

Outcome: Tokoyami becomes celibate. Dark Shadow is scarred for life.

Tamaki Amajiki – Getting "The Talk" from Fatgum

Fatgum grinned as he placed a giant plate of takoyaki in front of Tamaki.

"Alright, bud! Let’s talk about the big stuff!"

Tamaki, already nervous, started sweating. "B-big… s-stuff?"

"Yup!" Fatgum nodded. "The ol' horizontal tango! The whoopee cushion shuffle! The bibbity boppity boink!"

Tamaki looked like he wanted to disintegrate.

Fatgum laughed. "Aww, c’mon, kiddo! Ain’t nothing to be scared of! Everybody’s gotta learn how to get down to business eventually!"

Tamaki: "I don’t."

Fatgum patted his shoulder. "Ah, it ain’t so bad! You just gotta be confident, communicate with your partner, and—"

Tamaki teleported out of his chair.

Outcome: Fatgum laughs it off. Tamaki moves to another city.

Tomura Shigaraki – Getting "The Talk" from Dabi

Dabi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirking.

"So, you and relationships. That’s a funny thought."

Shigaraki scowled. "Tch. Whatever. I don’t care."

Dabi chuckled. "Alright, well, let’s say you do care. You meet someone, they actually like you—miracle, by the way—so what then?"

Shigaraki crossed his arms. "Then I’d… tell them they’re mine?"

Dabi sighed. "Alright, well, if you don’t wanna accidentally dust your date mid-kiss, you should probably learn some control, champ."

Shigaraki looked away. "...Tch. Whatever. I have control."

"Yeah? What about when your emotions get wild?" Dabi grinned. "Or if they kiss your neck?"

Shigaraki turned bright red. "SHUT UP."

Outcome: Shigaraki refuses to speak to Dabi for a week.

Hitoshi Shinso – Getting "The Talk" from Aizawa

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay, Shinso. We need to talk."

Shinso sipped his coffee. "About what?"

Aizawa: "...Sex."

Shinso immediately choked.

Aizawa sighed again. "Look, it’s nothing complicated. Just be respectful, communicate, use protection, and for the love of god, don’t use your Quirk in bed."

Shinso: "WHY WOULD I—WHAT—NO! WHY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK THAT?!"

Aizawa shrugged. "I don’t know. Gotta cover all the bases."

Shinso buried his face in his hands. "I hate it here."

Outcome: Aizawa doesn’t care. Shinso wants to disappear.

Shoto Todoroki – Getting "The Talk" from Endeavor

Endeavor sat across from Shoto, arms crossed, his face burning slightly brighter than usual.

"Shoto. We need to talk."

Shoto blinked. "About?"

"...Procreation."

Shoto immediately stood up. "I’m leaving."

Endeavor grabbed his wrist. "SIT."

Outcome: Shoto literally escapes through a window.

Can I request an established relationship with katsuki x reader where reader has a healing quirk, but whateber injury she heals, she feels a fraction of the pain and drains her own energy.

she had to heal a lot of civilians in the mission and katsuki finds her before she passes out

Borrowed Pain

The battlefield was finally quiet. Smoke and dust still clung to the air, the acrid scent of destruction mixing with the metallic tang of blood. It had been a brutal fight—villains tearing through the city like a wildfire, leaving behind wreckage, wounded civilians, and far too much loss.

But you had done your part.

Your hands trembled as you pressed them against another injured civilian’s body, your quirk flickering to life in a soft, golden glow. You gritted your teeth as their deep gash slowly sealed itself shut, your skin prickling with the familiar burn of borrowed pain. The moment the wound disappeared, a sharp sting lanced through your own abdomen—a phantom pain, a fraction of what they had endured, but enough to make your breath hitch.

You had lost count of how many people you had healed.

Your body was barely holding together. Each time you healed someone, it took something from you—your energy, your strength, your stability. The worst part wasn’t even the fatigue; it was the cumulative pain, layer upon layer of injuries you hadn’t actually sustained, but still felt as if you had. Your arms ached as if they’d been broken and reset a dozen times over. Your ribs throbbed with phantom bruises. Your head was spinning from the strain.

But you couldn’t stop.

Not when another civilian, a mother clutching her unconscious daughter, was crying out for help.

Not when people needed you.

You forced yourself forward, dragging your heavy limbs across the debris-littered ground. You sank to your knees beside them, nearly toppling over from the sheer effort of staying upright. The little girl was breathing, but her leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Fractured, at the very least.

You exhaled shakily. “I’m going to fix her,” you murmured, mostly to yourself, because the mother’s sobs made it clear she wasn’t hearing anything beyond her own panic.

You placed your hands on the girl’s leg and summoned what little energy you had left. The glow of your quirk was duller now, weaker. You weren’t even sure if you had enough in you to mend the break.

But you had to try.

The moment the healing process started, a searing pain shot through your own leg. You bit down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the strangled sound of pain that threatened to escape. It felt like your bone had snapped, like the marrow itself was burning—but then, after a few agonizing seconds, it was gone.

The girl stirred with a soft whimper, her leg whole again.

But you—

The world tilted violently. Your vision blurred, colors bleeding together in a hazy mess. You tried to push yourself up, to move onto the next person, but your limbs refused to cooperate.

Your heart pounded sluggishly in your chest. You could barely feel the ground beneath you.

Too much.

You had given too much.

Your body swayed, and just as you felt yourself pitching forward, a voice—loud, rough, unmistakable—cut through the fog in your mind.

“The hell do ya think you’re doing?!”

A pair of strong arms caught you before you could hit the ground. The scent of burnt caramel filled your senses, familiar and grounding. Katsuki.

You wanted to say something, to reassure him that you were fine, that you just needed a second, but the moment you met his gaze, the words died in your throat.

His expression—fierce, scowling—was betrayed by the sheer panic in his crimson eyes. His hands, calloused but warm, cradled you carefully, as if afraid you’d break apart if he held you any tighter.

"You overdid it again, dumbass,” he growled, voice thick with frustration. “I told ya not to push yourself like this!"

You tried to smile, tried to play it off, but even that was too much effort. “People needed help,” you mumbled instead, eyelids fluttering.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, his jaw clenching. “And what about you, huh? Who the hell’s gonna help you when you’re passin’ out on the goddamn street?!”

You had no answer.

Because, deep down, you hadn’t even considered yourself.

You had only been thinking about them.

Your head lolled against his shoulder, exhaustion wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Your body felt weightless and unbearably heavy all at once, limbs refusing to respond, breath shallow and uneven.

Katsuki tightened his grip, as if he could physically hold you together with just his arms alone. His heart was pounding against your cheek. “Don’t you dare pass out,” he muttered, shaking you slightly. “Oi, stay with me.”

But you couldn’t.

You fought it—really, you did—but the darkness was already creeping in, dragging you under. The last thing you felt before everything went black was Katsuki pulling you closer, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the icy numbness in your veins.

And the last thing you heard was his voice, raw and desperate.

“I got you, alright? Just—fuck—just stay with me.”

*-*-*-*

Your eyelids felt like lead, heavy and unyielding, but the warmth pressed against your side was familiar. It anchored you, coaxing you from the depths of unconsciousness. The air was different here—cleaner, free of smoke and dust, carrying the faint antiseptic scent of a medical ward.

You stirred, your body protesting with a dull, lingering ache. Every muscle felt wrung out, every nerve frayed at the edges. A low, irritated grunt sounded beside you.

"'Bout damn time you woke up."

The voice—gruff and unmistakable—sent a wave of relief through your foggy mind. You managed to pry your eyes open, blinking against the dim light. Katsuki was slouched in a chair beside your bed, arms crossed, brows furrowed in a scowl that didn’t quite hide the tension in his shoulders. His usual hero gear had been replaced with a simple black shirt and sweatpants, but he still looked battle-worn—his hands wrapped in gauze, a faint bruise darkening his cheekbone.

"Katsuki…?" Your voice came out hoarse, your throat dry and sore.

His scowl deepened. "Yeah, dumbass. Who else would be here watchin’ your reckless ass?"

You tried to push yourself up, but the moment you moved, a sharp pain lanced through your limbs. Katsuki was there in an instant, his hands firm but careful as he eased you back against the pillows. "The hell do ya think you’re doin’? Lay the fuck down."

A weak chuckle escaped you. "I feel like I got hit by a truck."

"Yeah? Well, servin’ yourself up on a silver platter like that’ll do that to ya." His voice was gruff, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed something deeper—anger, frustration… concern.

You let your head rest against the pillow, exhaling softly. "How long was I out?"

Katsuki hesitated, then muttered, "Almost two days."

Your eyes widened. "Two—?" You tried to sit up again, only for his hand to press firmly against your shoulder, keeping you down with surprising gentleness.

"I swear to god, if you don’t stop fuckin’ movin’, I’ll tie you to the damn bed."

You huffed a tired laugh but obeyed, sinking back. "What happened?"

Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair. "You pushed yourself way too far. You were burnin’ up, shakin’ like a damn leaf. Could barely fuckin’ breathe." His fingers curled into fists. "You scared the shit outta me."

That last part was muttered under his breath, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it. But you did. And it sent warmth blooming in your chest, even through the exhaustion.

"I just…" You swallowed, throat tight. "People needed me."

"Yeah? And what, you don’t?" Katsuki snapped, eyes flashing. "You think you can just keep throwin’ yourself away for everyone else and it won’t fuckin’ matter?"

His words struck something deep inside you, something raw and unspoken. You had always known the risks of your quirk. The cost of healing. But you had never really thought about what it did to you—only what it did for others.

Katsuki dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. "Look, I get it. You wanna help people. That’s what heroes do. But not at the damn expense of your own life, dumbass."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I don’t know how to stop."

For a moment, he just stared at you, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then, with a sigh, he shifted closer, resting his forearms on the edge of the bed. "Then I’ll make sure you do."

His voice had lost its usual bite, softened into something steadier. A promise.

You met his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself lean into the warmth of someone else’s care.

"Okay."

I know what you are 🫵🤨

and what am i?

i redownloaded the sims to make this

inspo from this pic

thinking about rocker shinso rn

he plays bass

he wears eyeliner and paints his nails black (i’d go feral)

his style resembles johnny rotten

i feel like he’d be in like a shoegaze band or emogaze specifically

idk he just gives that kind of vibe

he is into punk and the diy aspect of it though

bro wears spiky bracelets, chokers, chains on his pants, etc.

only reads tabs

tried to learn guitar but it was too hard so he decided to be the bassist

definitely didn’t write this because i’m a drummer and we all know about the drummer and bassist…

yall i have a rent obsession now how do i stop being a theatre kid and crying over a fictional couple

miku binder thomas jefferson comfort fic

die 💜

me and toga - velvet ring C:

I NEED IT AJSKSK. anyways raegan in the house !!

OMG HI POOKIE I LOVE YOUUUUUUU

anyways on with the story.

toga x ua student oc

btw chat this will be very angsty so buckle up

Raegan always knew that she wanted to be a hero. Since the moment she was born, she knew that it was her goal to make the world a better place.

She worked unbelievably hard, was insanely patient and kind to everyone she met. Eventually she got into UA and her goal of making the world into a better place was finally getting a kickstart.

When the LOV attacked UA, Raegan noticed that she was distracted. She saw the girl with blonde hair that they called a villain, but what she saw was anything but villainous.

A few weeks later, Raegan was wandering around the city, when she saw the league again.

Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but her feet were glued to their spot on the pavement. Her heart raced as the group got closer and closer to her.

“Hiiiiii!” Before Raegan could truly process what was going on, the blonde girl’s face was just inches away from her own.

“Hi.” Raegan mumbled, not fully aware of what was happening.

“You’re really cute! What’s your name?” The other girl said. She was in a school uniform and looked to be around her age. Why was this bubbly teenage girl hanging around a group of the most dangerous individuals in Japan.

“thank you,” Raegan blushed at the unexpected compliment. “I’m Raegan. You?”

“Himiko Toga!”

From that day on they’d meet at the same spot and just talk. It was an escape for both of them. Raegan got to complain about UA without feeling like she was being ungrateful for the opportunities she had there.

This relationship would continue for a few months. Talking for maybe a bit longer than they should, glancing for just a second too long to be friendly. Hands lingering after hugs a little more than platonically.

Of course, nobody wanted to address the elephant in the room. Toga was a villain, and Raegan was training to become a pro hero.

One night when Raegan was getting up to go, Toga grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“I love you.” Toga said, barely above a whisper, her gaze fixated on Raegan’s lips.

Raegan’s eyes widened, and she took a step back. Sure, she loved Toga, but she wasn’t ready to be anything more than what they already are. They couldn’t be anything more.

“I-I’m sorry.” Raegan shuffled backwards, avoiding eye contact. Toga let go of her hand.

“Join us.” Toga bursted out. “The league I mean.”

Raegan began, “no Toga, you know I ca-”

“Why not? You always complain about school.” She said, more angry.

“because. It’s wrong, I’m not a..” Raegan trailed off.

“A villain? A monster? Is that how you see me?” Toga nearly shouted, tears welling up in her eyes.

“No, it’s not like that-” Raegan started.

“No, don’t worry I get it.” Toga interrupted, leaving Raegan speechless as she stormed off.

They both knew it’d never work, and they both left that day feeling like fools.

They wouldn’t reunite again until Toga’s funeral.

Raegan had boyfriends, husbands even, but none could compare to the blonde that she once had.