#bless anon

PLEASE

Hiii! Thank you so much for the lovely message and yes I'm doing good! Just been busy with stuff and trying to enjoy my quarantine summer 😅 I try to come back here once and awhile to see what's up with everything but so far I just been playing games and taking care of dogs sooo yeah I just been trying my best to stay off social media to enjoy myself lol

Thanks again for the love and I hope you're doing well too darling, stay safe! 🥺☺️♥️🥺❤️

okay so i’ve been working on this for a while, so sorry for the late response dear!! it sounds like a fantastic idea uwu

i also got really carried away tbh haha, it’s just such a cute au~ i might eventually make it a whole story bc it’s just so dang adorable! ;u; hope you like it anon <33

***

“What do you mean we can’t use the court?” Bakugou slams his hands down on Principal Nezu’s desk hard enough to knock over an innocent cup of pencils. “I’ve had it booked since last week! Who the hell took it?!”

“Language, Katsuki,” Nezu scolds, calmly fixing the cup. “Shouto made a very compelling argument, so the board and I decided to—“

“Dammit, that bastard?” Bakugou sits down hard, knocking over the pencils again. “He can’t keep stealing the court! My team needs to practice, too. What did he tell you this time, huh? Is he spreading rumors about me again?”

“He’s never spread rumors about you,” Nezu sighs, setting the pencil cup on the windowsill to save it from further assault. “Katsuki, it’s simple: his team has more funding and more support from the school board. There’s nothing I can do—“

“Bullshit.” Bakugou stands up to storm out, ripping a volleyball poster off the open door on his way. “Dammit, I’ll deal with it myself. Thanks for nothing.”

Todoroki Shouto is the most annoying, aggravating, horrible person Bakugou has ever met. That asshole constantly steals the court that the basketball team needs, sabotages their attempts to gain new members—and, most importantly, he’s got the support of the entire student council and faculty. Being the captain of the basketball team means nothing when Bakugou is terrible at making social connections.

“Bro, did you ask about the court?” Kirishima appears from thin air, Kaminari and Sero on his heels. “What’d Nezu say?”

“It’s that fucker again,” Bakugou growls, storming into the gym with enough ferocity to scare first-year volleyball members out of the way. “Dammit, Todoroki!” he yells across the gym at the irritating bastard who’s preparing for a serve. “You’re fucking dead!”

“Wait, you can’t just kill him!” Kirishima quickly grabs Bakugou by the arms, saving Todoroki’s shitty fucking pretty boy face in the nick of time.

“Ah, I see you found out about the gym.” Todoroki hands his ball to the vice-captain, Iida, and crosses his arms. “Did you come to fight me for it?”

Bakugou struggles against Kirishima’s grip, but it only gets him an inch closer to Todoroki’s irritatingly calm, unflinching face. “You must think this is a real fucking riot, huh, interfering with everything my team does?! This isn’t over, you fucking Half bastard!”

“You say that every time,” Todoroki calls after him as Kirishima and the others drag him away. “See you later, I guess.”

“Fuck you!”

***

“You’re the worst,” Bakugou says vehemently between impatient kisses down Todoroki’s pale throat. “You’re the worst fucking person I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Yes, I know.” Todoroki’s fingernails dig into his shoulders, spreading pinpricks of heat down his back. Bakugou wants to take a picture of his ruined expression and frame it. “Hey“—the bastard’s gasping now—“don’t leave marks.”

“Shut up.” Bakugou bites his collarbone spitefully, igniting Todoroki’s yelp. “You piss me the hell off. Give me back my court and I’ll consider being less rough.” He accentuates the threat with another bite. Fuck Todoroki Shouto and his dumbass ‘no marks’ bullshit. As if Bakugou would listen to him when he’s pissed off—or, fuck, even when he isn’t.

“Blackmailing me won’t work,” Todoroki replies with the same irritatingly docile expression. “I like it rou—“ He gasps when Bakugou kisses him harshly on the mouth. He was just about to say he likes it rough, this motherfucker.

Yes, Bakugou despises Todoroki more than anyone else in the world—but that may be the exact reason he likes seeing him defenseless and at his complete mercy so damn much. Hate-fucking him in a janitor’s closet has become a perpetual, reluctant, and mostly accidental habit that he tries to refrain from… but never can.

After they’re finished, Bakugou always feels like something is left unresolved, and no amount of cursing or regret will fix it. The two-tone bastard Todoroki doesn’t seem to share his thoughts, though. “Hey… You should come to my game tomorrow.”

“What, you mean the one that you stole my gym time to practice for?” Bakugou scoffs while pulling on his wrinkled jersey. “How about fuck you?”

“You do a good enough job of that on your own,” Todoroki replies evenly, slipping on his red practice jacket and zipping it up to his neck to hide the dark blemishes there. “You left hickeys all over me again, so it’s really the least you could do.”

“Just because I sometimes fuck you in closets doesn’t make us friends, or anything close to it,” Bakugou reminds, slinging his practice duffel over his shoulder and flipping off Icy Hot on his way out. “I still don’t fucking like you. Bye.”

“It’s at three o’clock!” Todoroki calls after him before the door closes, pissing Bakugou off even more. He won’t do this ever again, he swears—and he definitely won’t go to that stupid fucking game, either.

***

“You’re going to the volleyball game?” Kirishima is so surprised that he misses his free-throw, and the rogue basketball hits Kaminari in the head. “But… why?”

“Oi, proper passes asshole!” Bakugou yells at a first-year before answering, “I thought about it, and it’s a good chance for revenge. That dick Todoroki is always stealing members and support from us, so it’s time to get back at him.”

Kaminari pauses mid-dribble to raise an eyebrow disbelievingly. “That’s the only reason? You sure?”

“What exactly are you implying, huh?” Bakugou elbows him on his way to center court. “What other reason could there be? I’m just going to fuck with him.”

“But do you really even hate Todoroki, though?” Kaminari asks with a frown. “I mean, you guys are like… Ugh, you know when two people both like and hate each other at the same time? You’re, like, uh… Help me out here, Kirishima.”

“Frenemies?”

“Frenemies! You guys are like frenemies. I mean, you wouldn’t be so bothered by that guy if you didn’t like him at least a little.”

“Fuck you,” Bakugou scoffs, smacking the basketball out of his hand. “I’m going for sabotage reasons: that’s it.”

“Me too!” Sero calls suddenly from across the gym, elbowing a first-year in the chest when he throws his hand up. After apologizing and passing his ball to Shinsou, he trips over to them. “I wanna come, too. Uh, you know, to help with the espionage.”

Kaminari rolls his eyes. “You guys have fun, then. I’m not going.”

“Nobody fucking asked you to.” Bakugou takes a position at the three-point line. “I only told you two so you’d keep an eye on practice for me.” He takes a shot and it sails straight into the basket. “Just make sure nobody dies—and for fuck’s sake, get these shitty first-years to improve their damn passes!”

“Aren’t you worried Principal Nezu will be mad if you’re there?” Kirishima interjects. “He knows you hate Todoroki’s guts. He’ll definitely suspect something.”

“He won’t suspect shit.” Bakugou pulls the sweatband off his wrist and tosses it to Kaminari with a smirk. “Just wait and see: I’ll pay that pretty boy over ten-fucking-fold.”

“Pretty boy?” Kirishima echoes.

“Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou makes another three-pointer, but he can’t focus on his game when the memory of Todoroki’s stupid face is haunting him. Sometimes he can’t get the look of that bastard out of his head—of Todoroki’s parted lips and splayed hips; of Bakugou’s own hands on that delicate porcelain skin.

Shit, he already wants to break his promise and fuck him again. If he goes to the game and sees Todoroki playing, he might just have to. Sweaty skin, a neckline low enough to show off the marks Bakugou left, and those tight, tight shorts— Oh fuck, he’s totally done for.

Shit, Bakugou’s riled up now. He passes his ball to Kirishima with an irritated scoff. “Fucking take this. I’ll be right back.”

“What? Wait, where are you—“

Bakugou slams through the gym doors before he can finish his sentence, punching a locker hard enough to dent it. “Calm down,” he orders himself. His body is basically flipping him off, though. “I hate him. I hate him.” He has to say it twice to make it sound believable. Lately, Bakugou has been struggling to put a name to his feelings. Hate is there, but it’s not the only thing he feels anymore. Why did he become closer to Todoroki in the first place? How can he possess him one second and let him go the next? It doesn’t make any sense if he takes time to think about it.

“Fuck.” Bakugou punches the locker again. Pain is one thing he has no trouble feeling. “Fuck,” he says again, resting his head against the dented metal.

Maybe he shouldn’t go. If he sees Todoroki at the game, he’ll… Well, he honestly doesn’t know what he’ll do. Hit him? Maybe. Kiss him? Probably. Fuck him again? Almost definitely.

***

The amount of people that show up to a volleyball game is… depressing. Bakugou has never seen a crowd of more than eighty people at a basketball game, but there’s well over a hundred here. He’s scowling as he sits down in a seat where that bastard Todoroki won’t see him. What is it about volleyball? Basketball is way fucking harder. Sure, Bakugou’s never seen a volleyball game before, but their practices look easy as hell. Dammit, he’s forgetting why he came here: there’s a job to do.

“Sero, did you remember to bring it?” Bakugou whispers, keeping his eyes trained on the court. The Half bastard hasn’t shown up yet. “Sero? Sero— For fuck’s sake, what are you doing?”

Sero jumps, quickly ripping his gaze away from the face of the volleyball tram’s vice-captain. “Oh, uh… sorry. I brought it.” He digs in his bag to retrieve a package of marbles. “Isn’t this plan too childish, though? And some people could get seriously hurt.”

“It’s just fucking marbles. Don’t be a pussy.” Bakugou snatches the package from him and rips it open. “As soon as the game hits the second set, you trip me and spill these all over the court. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Sero agrees reluctantly, eyeing Iida again. It’s no secret he’s got a thing for him. “…I got it.”

“Good. Stay on your toes and…” Bakugou’s mouth goes completely dry when Todoroki steps onto the court. It’s hard to explain, but there’s something… different about the way he looks right now. His eyes are filled with such unnerving intensity that it makes Bakugou shiver. He could be thinking about his classes or the hickeys that are just visible above the collar of his uniform, but his mind seems laser-focused on the game ahead.

Fuck, he’s beautiful. Who the fuck gave him the right to be this hot? Bakugou silently drinks up the sight of him running, jumping, blocking—everything that makes his heart slam suicidally against his chest cavity. Point after point; Todoroki’s team scores again and again, easily taking the first set. Bakugou doesn’t even remember what he’s supposed to be doing until Sero’s shoulder roughly smacks into his arm.

He falls forward, throwing out his hands to right himself. As he does, the marble package slips from his hands, cascading over the heads of the row in front of them to tumble across the gym floor. The world stops, time crawling to a painful halt. Todoroki had been mid-jump, about to serve. The marbles have spread across the court, and he lands on one almost immediately. The chaos is more broad-spread than expected: both teams are down.

Everyone is too busy panicking to look for the source of the incident, but Todoroki’s gaze pierces straight through the crowd. Bakugou makes direct eye contact with him before vaulting the bleacher railing and disappearing into the hall. He fucked up. Or, no, he succeeded. He wanted to cause destruction, and he most definitely did. But, then… why does he feel so shitty?

He embarrassed Todoroki. Wasn’t that his goal from the start? He has no reason to be filled with… What is this feeling, anyway? Guilt? No fucking way. Bakugou refuses to even think about feeling guilty. But staring at the locker he punched, the sensation builds and builds until it’s unbearable. It was an accident. Even if he was planning it, it was still an accident. But fuck, he shouldn’t have to justify it at all. What the hell—

A fist catches him in the jaw “What the fuck—“ Bakugou gasps when hands seize him by the collar, slamming him against the dented locker. It’s hard to believe what he’s seeing. “What… Todoroki?”

Bakugou has never seen Todoroki angry before, and he wishes he didn’t have to see it now. His stormy eyes are full of raw, unbridled rage. He’s quite clearly pissed off. The emotion is even clearer in his voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The question is so cold and serious that it’s impossible to give a joking response. “I… didn’t mean to.”

“You’re lying.” Todoroki’s fists clench against Bakugou’s shirt. “I invited you because I thought things could change, but they can’t, can they?” The anger drains from his eyes as quickly as it appeared, grip slackening on Bakugou’s collar. “You must… really hate me, huh?”

The words feel like bullets. Why does it hurt so much to hear them? Bakugou does hate him. He hates looking at him and hearing his voice and being powerless against his charm. But he can’t stop coming back for more and more of Todoroki Shouto, like he’s a drug. A drug with too many damn side-effects. Doubt, insecurity, fear, and something else… Something deeper that’s too hard to think about.

“So it’s true?” Todoroki shakes his head and releases him when Bakugou doesn’t say anything. “I guess this is it, then. I’m done being the object of your amusement. This isn’t a game.” He backs a few steps away, but the distance feels like miles.

If he keeps going, there won’t be a problem: Bakugou can probably go on believing he despises him. But the Half bastard always has to ruin everything, so he stops and looks over his shoulder. “For what it’s worth… I never once hated you.”

Dammit. Why did it have to be this way? It would be so much easier if Todoroki hated him. They could keep being at odds with each other, fighting over who gets to use the gym, bickering with Nezu about club funding. In the end, though, that’s impossible. Bakugou knows deep down what he wanted from the start—what he still wants now. He can’t make complete sense of his emotions, but… maybe he doesn’t have to.

“Todoroki.” Bakugou is surprised by the rawness of his voice. He’s supposed to be walking away, not closer. “Don’t.”

Don’t… what? Don’t go, don’t stay? He’s even confusing himself. But there’s no going back now: Todoroki has turned to face him again, lips parted in a yet-to-be-voiced question. Bakugou doesn’t let him speak, taking him by the wrist. Where his fingers touch Todoroki’s soft skin, he can feel a rapid-fire pulse. It skyrockets even more when they kiss.

Todoroki loses his balance, gripping fistfuls of Bakugou’s shirt when he slams him against the dented locker. A noise of protest rumbles from the back of his throat when Bakugou’s tongue slips into his mouth, but he could care less. His head is screaming. This stupidly annoying, beautiful bastard is all he wants right now. Fuck, is this what he’s been waiting for? For this shot of clarity? 

He doesn’t hate Todoroki Shouto at all. He never did. No, in fact, he just might be madly in love with him.

With a gasp, Todoroki finally manages to separate their mouths. “What the… hell do you… think you’re doing?”

He’s so out of breath that he can barely speak. Doesn’t this dumbass know to breathe through his nose? It pisses Bakugou off even more. “You god damn idiot.” He presses Todoroki’s back harder against the locker. “‘This isn’t a game’? I never saw this as a fucking game, asshole. You started shit with me, and I wanted to finish it.”

Todoroki grabs his wrist, eyes aflame again. “I’m not the one who picks fights with you. I admit that I don’t treat you properly, but I never start things directly. You’re the one who’s always hanging around, threatening me.” He scoffs softly. “It’s because you hate me, isn’t that right? You despise me.”

“Motherfucker…” Bakugou slams his fist against the wall to keep from punching Todoroki’s stupid fucking pretty face. “Are you stupid? I’ve never once said I hate you, Half n’ Half. Not fucking once.”

“You’re going to tell me you don’t? After everything you’ve done?” Todoroki pushes his head away from the wall, eyes steely. “Why would I ever believe you?”

Fuck. Does Bakugou have to say it? To say it will mean admitting it to himself first. Can he do that? Can he throw away years of resentment so easily? Then again, maybe that resentment has been disappearing for a while. When was the last time he thought about Todoroki with disgust? Or, rather… has he ever?

“I don’t hate you,” Bakugou mutters eventually. All the strength rushes out of him, and he drops his head against Todoroki’s shoulder. “I don’t hate you at all. I think I actually… Fuck. I think I actually like you a lot.”

It’s been a long time since Bakugou’s told the truth like this. Todoroki’s eyes convey his shock at the pure honesty in the words, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond. People are filing out of the gym, their loud voices carrying down the hallway—including Todoroki’s teammates.

“Fuck,” Bakugou mutters, backing up down the hall. “I’ll… see you later.”

Todoroki starts to protest, but Bakugou has already turned to run.

***

Bakugou isn’t sure how far or for how long he’s walked, but he should’ve been home twenty minutes ago. Ha… Not like it matters. What the fuck has he gone and done? He confessed to Todoroki, even though his feelings are a total mess. God, he’s so fucking dead. Why the fuck would he go and say such stupid shit?

“Ugh… Fuck me.” Bakugou collapses on a park bench, tearing his hands through his hair. “Dammit. Fucking idiot. What the hell is wrong with you, Katsuki? Oh my god, I can never show my face at school again. I’ll move to fucking Osaka and start bartending or some shit. Fuck. I wanna die…”

“Bakugou?”

For a moment, he thinks he must be imagining things. Why, at the peak of his misery, would Todoroki appear to worsen things? The universe can’t possibly be that cruel. Oh, but of course it can. Todoroki Shouto is standing in front of him, wearing casual clothes and a streetlight halo. Fuck. He’s as stupidly beautiful as ever. The universe really is an asshole, isn’t it?

“How did you find me?” is all Bakugou can manage to say. He hasn’t been yelling, but his voice is raw.

“I live near here. I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.” Todoroki’s eyes glow in the soft fluorescent lamplight when he takes a step closer. “Are you… okay?”

“You shouldn’t be asking me that, asshole.” Bakugou lowers his head, too embarrassed to look him in the face. They’ve been in far more intimate situations, yet this somehow feels like the most exposing of all. “Just go back home. I’m not ready to talk yet.”

Of course, Todoroki never listens to him. He sits down, close enough for their shoulders to touch. “Did you mean what you said back there?”

“I’m not a fucking liar,” Bakugou grumbles irritably. “I meant it, even if I don’t fully understand it. I like you.” He lets out a breath. What a tremendous weight that’s been lifted… “Fuck. I like you so fucking much, it hurts.”

For the first time since they met, Bakugou lets himself look at Todoroki without a hint of anger. The other emotions that take its place are immediately overwhelming, and Bakugou can’t stop himself from reaching out to brush a fingertip across Todoroki’s soft bottom lip. It’s different from the way he’s touched him before, always full of mindless lust and spite. This is a gentle ache; one that starts in his chest and gradually moves through his whole body like a wildfire.

Todoroki’s breath catches quietly, which is more than enough to send Bakugou into cardiac arrest. He wants him. He wants all of him right now, but in a much different way than before. Rather than doing it to hurt him, Bakugou wants Todoroki Shouto to willingly belong to him. He wants to touch him so gently that he forgets everything else in the world.

“Can I…” Bakugou starts, voice deep and raspy with unchecked desire. His composure is steadily dissolving. Fuck, he wants to melt into him like ice cream on hot pavement. 

Thank god, Todoroki wants it as much as he does. He’s barely finished nodding before Bakugou’s tongue is in his mouth, fingers sliding under his sweatshirt. Fuck, his skin is soft. His saliva tastes like fucking peppermint. Was kissing him always this good? Bakugou’s thirst for him is utterly insatiable. Shit. Hate-fucking is nothing compared to whatever this is.

“Wait,” Todoroki gasps when Bakugou’s hand slips up his inner leg. “Not here, Bakugou—“

“First name,” Bakugou interrupts gruffly, gripping Todoroki’s thigh tighter to shut him up. He’s been waiting for this for a long time, he realizes. Fuck, it’s too good. “If you like me, use my first name.”

Todoroki doesn’t even hesitate. “Katsuki,” he whispers in an absolutely disastrous way. “Katsuki, I like you, too. I like you.”

Fuck, those damn words… He’s definitely trying to destroy him. But even so, it feels too amazing to care. Wreck me, Bakugou wants to say. Bite me. Break me. Bloody me. Tear me up completely.

Anon Asked: This might be a weird request, but I've really liked the videos you did with the disgustang audio, as well as old town road, so I was wondering, if you had time, if you would make maybe a funny edit thing again? Maybe with Raire? because you always seem to get really into those projects! :D but if you're going to do it, do whatever makes you comfortable! It's just fun to see someone new making funny videos with lesser used characters

!!! Anon, I loved doing this honestly ??? It was somewhat based off one idea my friend @trashyhobochancellor told me based on this audio. He made a joke about how Lightning could be doing something completely regular in a different room while you can hear Ravus just raising hell in the next, and I thought that was honestly pretty amusing?

Shiro smiled down at his phone as he laid in bed and scrolled through his and Hunk’s latest conversation. They’d both reminisced about their favorite toys when they were little (Hunk’s was a stuffed cat that looked like a piece of sushi, Shiro’s was a stuffed rabbit named Bunbun), and Shiro had even told Hunk about how awful it was when he lost Bunbun at the airport when his family had been visiting Japan. He’d never told anyone about how he still thought about Bunbun, too embarrassed to admit that he still missed a stuffed rabbit he’d lost when he was 8.

But Hunk hadn’t made fun of him, had completely understood where Shiro was coming from. Shiro had felt warm all over and completely ridiculous because it wasn’t like this was his deepest, darkest secret. It was just something small, practically insignificant… But Hunk hadn’t laughed, had even thought it was sweet.

Shiro turned onto his side and tapped on Hunk’s profile picture to enlarge it. He looked at Hunk’s smiling face frozen on his tiny screen, and his chest felt tight and warm and tingly all at once.

God, he was so screwed.