#Boku no hero Academia OCs

[mysteryideasgroup]

Day 18: My Hero Academia MHA

Daisy vs Angela with Fires Flames battle in Fire Flame

----

For @laurasanchez36

AUs Alternate Universes CUs Crossovers belongs to me 

All belongs to my MSA X MHA ocs sonas and my new MSA X MHA ocs sonas 

All belongs to her MSA X MHA ocs sonas and her new MSA X MHA ocs sonas 

Mystery Skulls Animated MSA belongs to Ben and MysteryBen27 of YouTube YT Series Shows 

My Hero Academia MHA Boku no Hero Academia BNHA belongs to Kohei Horikoshi 

[tea-n-tomatoes]

OC-tober day 12 “Future” with Kasumi and Haruna! With the mha manga over, it made me think a lot about where they would end up. Kasumi becomes a pro hero, and Haruna opens a hero agency with her, but Haruna herself chooses to manage the agency instead of being a hero herself.

[fluffytriceratops]

[originally drawn in 2023-]

I saw this drawing Horikoshi drew a while back and had the idea that my OCs; Ryuunosuke (left) and Midori (right) saw the photo and decided to recreate it for their father!

Ryuu and Midori are the children of Keigo and Tequila (my OC).

[6ahaha1amjustaperson9]

Some sketches I've done, also warning on the one under the cut! There is ketchup and hurt Kota so don't click

But how cute is Krysta here?

Lmfao the fact I first torture Kota like if it was legal and then draw cute stuff with Krysta

I'm hilarious

If I don't torture OCs I draw them chilling...no in-between

[popcorn-an-artist]

My MHA OC, who I imagine taking up teaching as a side occupation, teaching the next generation of heroes.

Kinda sad story, but if the teachers were treated better around my area I would have considered becoming one too. Like it was one idea that entertained me, but the fact that the years under mine were more and more horrible than the year before them made me choose something. (Like when I became a 9th grader I went back to my old school and too many kids were haywire. Then when I was in 13th grade I saw the new 9th graders being the same way. Even my class was not a walk in a park, but not this much, we knew when to listen and the other usually don’t anymore.). But as the things are standing at the moment I don’t think I would want to be one. I’ll stick with my other idea for my future...

[sparkspartart]

Art trade on instagram.

[yourultraarchive]

**Name:** Ryuko Tamade **Age:** 17 **Birthday:** April 12 **Height:** 165 cm **Class:** 1-A

**Family:** - **Mom:** Ai Tamade (Doctor) - **Dad:** Tetsuya Tamade (Hero - Shock, electricity manipulation) - **Older Sister:** Kumiko Tamade (Hero in training)

**Appearance:** - **Hair:** Brown, spiky, short - **Eyes:** Red - **Attire:** Ryuko wears an edgy dystopian tomboy dress with dark colors and utility pockets. She accessorizes with fingerless gloves and combat boots.

**Hero Name:** Venom or Viper

**Quirk:** Blood Manipulation **How She Got It:** Through a laboratory accident during her mother’s research on enhancing human capabilities.

**Quirk Description:** Ryuko’s blood manipulation allows her to control and manipulate her own blood, as well as the blood of others within a certain range. She can shape her blood into weapons like blades or tendrils, create defensive barriers, and even heal herself or others by manipulating blood flow. Her quirk also grants her heightened physical abilities, such as increased strength and agility, when she uses her own blood as a power source. Additionally, Ryuko can sense the presence of blood nearby, making her an excellent tracker.

**Past:** Ryuko endured bullying in school and had no friends. Inspired by heroes, especially All Might, she vowed to become the world’s greatest female hero.

**Personality:** Ryuko is determined and resilient, with a fiercely independent spirit. She possesses a strong sense of justice and isn’t afraid to stand up for what she believes in.

**Relationships with Other Characters:** - **Deku:** They met on a cross mission and bonded as outcasts. Ryuko admires Deku’s determination and sees him as a kindred spirit.- **Kirishima Eijirou:** Ryuko’s love interest. Kirishima provides support and understanding, adding depth to her character.- **Ochako, Mina, and Other Girls:** Ryuko is friends with many of the female students at UA, bonding over their shared experiences and aspirations.- **Bakugo Katsuki:** Despite his abrasive personality, Ryuko respects Bakugo’s strength and determination. They share a competitive rivalry but also a mutual respect for each other’s abilities.

**Character Voice:** Ryuko speaks with a voice reminiscent of Kurisu Makise from Steins;Gate – confident, intelligent, and with a hint of sharpness. Her tone carries a sense of determination and seriousness, reflecting her strong will and dedication to her goals.

Hi there, this is the archivist here! Thanks for the submission, your character seems really cool, but I think you’ve misunderstood the purpose of this blog!

To quote myself from various other times people have done similarly to you, as well as the FAQ:

This was originally tagged as "new heroes", but please note that those tags are only for people who have used the Ultra Archive profile templates! If you’d like to make one for your characters, head on over to the online generators or download the PSDs for full customization. That said, I’ll be tagging this as WIP due to not being a profile. If you want to fill out a template and resubmit a full profile, feel free to drop back into the submit box--I look forward to seeing you again!

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[chokulit]

Remember that I can draw for you if you donate: x

I will post updates on the campaign when I can.

Currently at:

€3,103/40,000

Still not 1/10 of the total

tags under the cut (dm to remove tag):

@vakarians-babe @sar-soor @plomegranate @nabulsi @sayruq

@palipunk-blog @communistkenobi @queerstudiesnatural  @bluebellsinthedells @rizzyluke

@kordeliiius @self-hating-zionist  @raelyn-dreams @unfortunatelyuncreative @licencetokrill-blog

@jezebelgoldstone @ramelcandy @labutansa @sammywo  @autistwizard

@tortiefrancis @sparklinpixiedust @revcuse @golvio @leftismsideblog

@star-and-space-ace @rainbowywitch @marscodes @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @boyvander the-bastard-king

@ammonitetheseaserpent @girlinafairytale  @timetravellingkitty @appsa @applejupiter

@brutaliakhoa @malcriada @retvolution @deansmultitudes @devilofthepit

@heritageposts @wellwaterhysteria @dykesbat @gorbling  @half-empty-orbitals

@seasnipper @90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @fairuzfan @neptunerings

@marnota @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisection-gf

@belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @animentality @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish

@violetlyra @the-bastard-king @tamaytka @northgazaupdates2  @skatehan

@awetistic-things @nightowlssleep @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @friendshapedplant

@mangocheesecakes  @commissions4aid-international @rwuffles @mogai-sunflowers 

@a-shade-of-blue @ibtisams @paper-mario-wiki @dlxxv-vetted-donations @writerqueenofjewels

@the-ballerina-battle @khanger @maoistyuri @acepumpkinpatrick @thetownwecallhome

@aria-ashryver  @bat-luun @staretes @yokohama-crackhouse @omiteo777 

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationist @sawasawako

@aristotels @watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap

@deepspaceboytoy @kibumkim @socalchops @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli

@swagvo1d  @himejoshikaoru @rooh-tawaka-blog @deathlonging @briarhips

@mahoushojoe @mazzikah @bixlasagna @anetteva @timetravellingkitty

@battleofthegarys @nillabean @fromjannah  @ankle-beez @spindlesx

@squidie-tittie @shiskabubble @oursapphirestars @fitzfunnymoments @jonpertwee 

@buttercuparry @bloglikeanegyptian @visoremi  @olovelymoon-read-pinned-post @pinkhit-s

@purple-splattered-soul @papasmoke @one-time-i-dreamt  @operationladybug @undertastic-dork

@imjustheretotrytohelp @yesterdaysprint @tamarrud @themazziah

@resourcesmasterposts @raccoon-in-a-hoodie @ezrazone @emathyst9 @wolfythewitch

@queerdocumentary-blog @quecksilvereyes @anneemay @angelslough @averagenotnormal

@sleevesareforlosers @sinnamontrash @determinate-negation @dormimi-zzz

@fuckyeahanarchistposters @gerbildine  @generallyjl @good-old-gossip @heydreamchild

@jezior0 @komsomolka  @lesbianmaxevans

[pfpanimes]

⌕ boku no hero academia - aizawa shota.

like or reblog if you save/use. 🤍

[with-my-calamitous-love]

WHAT IF I CANT HAVE US?

katsuki bakugou x reader

texts katsuki struggled to send you.

part 1/3

different than what i usually write, but i thought i’d try it out

inspired by down bad

11:06 pm

kats: hey, idiot

kats: i’m sorry

11:10 pm

kats: i messed up

kats: happy?

11:18 pm

kats: ok im sorry again

kats: i just got jealous when i heard you went out with icyhot, thats all

kats: i know im the one that broke up with you

kats: but that doesn’t mean i was okay with seeing you go out with some other guy

kats: i know thats fucking stupid you don’t need to tell me

12:01 am

kats: i know you’re still mad at me

kats: i shouldn’t have freaked out like that when i saw ur instagram story

kats: shitty hair’s making me type most of this shit btw

12:53 am

kats: ok we’re alone he went to bed

kats: i can see ur online

kats: do you still have me saved with ur dumbass nickname

kats: i kinda hope you do

1:02 am

kats: i regret not texting you more often

kats: im sorry i was so dry

kats: but you’re the only person i’d ever text back

kats: i actually liked hearing from you

kats: im sorry

1:17 am

kats: i broke up with us bc i wasn’t treating you right and i went home everyday feeling like a shitty boyfriend. you deserved better

kats: i did it for ur own good, idiot

kats: especially after what i did to you

kats: i can’t ever make that up

kats: the guilt was killing me

kats: and after that i knew you deserved more

kats: but i miss you

kats: and im sorry i didn’t tell you the truth

kats: i take back everything i said

2:00 am

kats: are you asleep?

kats: whatever you’ll read this in the morning

kats: you left your moisturizer here

kats: i wish i could call you. i fucking miss your voice. im sorry

2:49 am

kats: you know ur the only person i want

kats: theres literally no one else

kats: and idk what i’ll do if i can’t have us

kats: i was an idiot to let you go

kats: im sorry about freaking out about that half and half bastard but im so much better for you

kats: i make you laugh

kats: i bet you were faking it with him

kats: even if you weren’t. lie to me

kats: i miss you

3:33 am

kats: you’re the prettiest person i have ever seen

kats: did i tell you that enough?

kats: well i’ll tell you now

kats: even if you slam the door in my face i’ll still tell you ur beautiful idc

kats: you’re so pretty it makes me angry

kats: i saw a photo of you in my gallery

kats: my mom says she misses you

3:51 am

kats: is ur apartment cold

kats: im sorry i never fixed your heater

kats: i should’ve made the time

kats: but i liked when you came to me for warmth

kats: maybe i didn’t fix it on purpose

kats: if you don’t take me back i’ll still fix it

kats: i love you like that

4:04 am

katsuki (do not answer) : have i told you that enough? that i love you?

katsuki (do not answer): im sorry

katsuki (do not answer): for not telling you i love you enough

katsuki (do not answer): for not telling you how god damn pretty you are

katsuki (do not answer): for not buying you flowers

katsuki (do not answer): for not treating you how i should have

katsuki (do not answer): i know i messed up

katsuki (do not answer): but i wanna make it right

katsuki (do not answer): you’re my whole fucking world

katsuki (do not answer): and i do love you

katsuki (do not answer): so open the door, im outside

part two soon! 🪽

[metranart]

➡️ NURSE BAKUGOU BACK TO HEALTH 😘

[honehonn3honey]

🙂‍↕️

[zesso3]

Artist: was and still my number one hero ….

Please don’t use without permission ^^

[6ahaha1amjustaperson9]

Strangely enough no angst this year for her bday, I know it's unexpected even for me lol

Tried some kind of...chibi style I think? I dunno how to call it but it's new for me that's for sure

[sleepwalkersqueen]

Healthy Birb >:3

He's very kitten shaped ur honor