What_are_hands



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    Kirishima’s liked Bakugou for years and years and never thought he’d even have a chance. Bakugou could easily become a runway model if he ever decided that’s what he wanted, while Kirishima is... well, just Kirishima.

    There’s no denying he’s strong, but not in the graceful and beautiful way that Bakugou is. He’s got rolls no matter what he does, more body hair than he could ever hope to manage, and thighs that seem to constantly stretch his jeans at the seams no matter how big he buys them.

    Yet, somehow within the span of the last hour, Kirishima’s gone from calling Bakugou ‘bro’ in their shared kitchen to lying underneath him in bed with Bakugou’s lean thigh pressed confidently between his thick ones.

    So, yeah, forgive Kirishima if he’s freaking out a bit.

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    05 Jul 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 64

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    “If my husband gets sick,” Katsuki spat. “If something crawled into his lungs because you and every other wide-eyed scientist on this station wanted to believe hard enough—”
    “Kat—”
    “If Eijirou so much as coughs because of whatever the hell you’re calling ‘life’ right now,” Katsuki went on. “I will burn every data set tied to this mission to the ground. I will dismantle Aquarius piece by piece and feed the scraps to whoever needs to synthesize a cure. I don’t give a shit if it sets spaceflight back a century. I don’t give a shit if it costs me my contract, my reputation, or my freedom.”
    Hanta was frozen in place. And Katsuki got a sick sort of satisfaction at seeing the smug bastard suddenly silenced.
    “Because unlike some people,” Katsuki’s voice was stunningly level. “I actually give a fuck about what I bring into the world.”
    Silence stretched between them for a second before Hanta pushed out a slow sigh. He tilted his head, thoughtful eyes meeting his. “Pot,” he said. “Meet kettle.”

    Or; Katsuki Bakugou built the rocket that carried his husband to another world, and has to live with what came home with him.

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    04 Jul 2026

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    Kirishima is hit with a quirk that requires him to maintain physical contact with someone or risk death. His friends are always willing to help him out, but just this once, he wishes they wouldn’t.

    Especially Bakugo. Has he always cared so much?

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    28 Jun 2026

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    Ochaco seemed like the safe harbor of common sense, at least until she swallowed a mouthful of fries and pointed a greasy finger at him.

    "So you're basically playing gay chicken," she said, her voice bright and far too carrying for his comfort.

    Katsuki stopped chewing, his fork hovering inches from a piece of wilted lettuce. He stared at her, feeling a sudden regret for ever opening his mouth. Ten minutes ago, she had been a sympathetic listener, but now she looked entirely too amused by his suffering.

    "What the fuck are you talking about?"

    — or the one where they flirt and push at each other like it’s all a game, like it doesn’t mean anything. until it does.

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    18 May 2026

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    Bakugou’s face scrunched up as he clearly waged some kind of internal battle before he deflated slightly, a long, annoyed breath forced from him. He plonked himself directly on the edge of Eijirou’s bed, huffing again.

    Eijirou watched, waiting by the door of his own room as his bestie pulled several vile expressions, and then scrubbed a hand over one side of his face.

    “It’s bullshit.”

    “I know. I know it is, man,” Eijirou finally moved closer, bending to pick up scraps of paper and errant rubbish from across his floor, dropping each piece quickly into the bin before setting it back to rights.

    “…I was gonna pick that up, you know,” Bakugou growled, the deep vibration in the back of his throat something he couldn’t have achieved more than a few days ago.

    He’d begun his presentation.

    As an alpha prime.

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    06 May 2026