#try again: the chaos within

[eventuallyaugust]

profiles. the chaos within

THE CHAOS WITHIN (@/thchswthn) | account status: inactive, seoul high's iconic band from batch '16 that consists of famous former troublemakers from five classes of year 9, formed by the teachers to compete with other schools as a punishment for them, the members start to enjoy it after winning a local competition, the band went through disbandment after the members graduated

"do you see now? i always win at the end. what jae wants, jae gets. i'm not scared of them, they're scared of me."

AHN HYUNJAE (@/ahnyj & @/lvngwithu) | '00 liner; she gets chosen to join the band because of her "ultimate" scheme: videotaped a teacher who was grooming a first year (whose face was blurred and voice distorted for privacy); the teacher got fired, got his teaching license revoked, and humiliated to the whole campus; she gets the position of the band's lead vocalist because all the other position was already taken (she just joined for the fun of it, not because she's scared of getting expelled or suspended), her answer when gets asked why she "humiliated a teacher (who was loved by many)": "i just did what was right and i'm always right."; the other band members expected her to become a teacher knowing how good she led the group the moment they met each other

"i bet you bitches didn't see that coming. next time, don't you ever come for lily again or else i may not be so nice for the second time."

OH HAEWON (@/lifesizeteddy) | '00 liner; she gets chosen to join the band because she punched the bully of her gf lily whose lunch money was getting stolen and getting shoved against the lockers; the bully faced a month of community service and detention; chose the bassist and vocalist position since she knows how a bass guitar works thanks to her older brother who plays one and can sing very well according to her gf (she joined the band because lily asked her to do it); her response when the principal asked her why she did it: "i've had enough."; surprised everyone by becoming a doctor

"you guys started this and i just finished it. if i were you, i would be scared right now."

BAE JINSOL (@/baejibae) | '00 liner; she gets chosen to join the band because she beat a group of students up who were bullying the school librarian; the librarian was the sweetest people she knows in the campus; chose the lead guitarist position because she grew up playing an electric guitar (she joined the band to avoid getting expelled and not get her girlfriend sullyoon worried); her response when the principal interrogated her why she punched the bully: "you cannot blame me for your actions. my hands just moved on their own."; the others don't know how she became a chef when she was banned in the kitchen after that one time in seonghwa's apartment.

"other people's lack of common sense makes me stop and think for a moment. i can't believe people like them exist."

JUNG WOOYOUNG (@/wowyng) | '99 liner, he gets chosen to join the band after he leaked mr. kim's flirty and provocative messages with another teacher from other school when he's married, the teacher got fired along with his mistress as wooyoung apologized to the wife who surprised him by thanking him for freeing her from her now abusive ex-husband, chose the position as the lead guitarist because he looks good while playing an electric guitar (he joined the band to avoid getting his mother worried about him), his response when mr. kim interrogated him why he leaked the messages: "bro, that's your wife. why would it be my fault that you cheated on her? the fuck?"; his quick thinking skills and memorization skills make him a great lawyer and thus, why he chose to be one

"don't ever show your face to me again, or you'll end up visiting the hospital for the second time."

PARK SEONGHWA (@/hwow) | '99 liner, he gets chosen after beating a group of bullies up with a bat for threatening the elderlies living near the campus, the students got expelled and tarnished their parents' reputation while he walks out of the principal's office with a smirk, chose the position as the band's drummer because he knows how to play the instrument and certainly not because he likes to hit something (he joined the band as per the elderlies' requests), his response after the parents of battered students asked him why he did it: "let me guess, they didn't tell you what they did? ...oh? then let me be the one to tell."; engineering isn't exactly a foreign profession to work in, but for seonghwa? who likes to destroy something? it sure does.

taglist (open!): @awkwardtoafault ,

disclaimer: i DO NOT ENCOURAGE the violent acts they do even they are right and i changed some of the birth years to fit the scenario

spawns of satan | masterlist | the flowers in the meadow

[dayssinceabrandcrossedmarkiplier]

Hello I found you from strangeæons' video lol :3 surprised to see a gimmick blog for Markiplier show up in the comments but I'm glad I did. Have a nice day!

Hey, nice to have you here!

It's definitely not the most conventional place to find this blog (I assume most people see me in the tag or discover me via blog they follow) but I'm sure there are far weirder places to learn about fandom based gimmick blogs.

Either way, you're here now and I hope you enjoy your stay. The posts are scheduled up to day 200 which will be on the 7th and hopefully, things will remain calm up until at least March. If so, we'll not only beat the total last time but also finally breach that elusive day 300 milestone. So fingers crossed Apollo doesn't get his hands on a dodgeball before spring.

[assassinhomecreedstuck]

i cant believe ive played world of warcraft for 20 years

[sysig]

Playdate (Patreon)

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.

wc. around 1.3k

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.

“ow, careful there, brat.”

your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.

you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.

“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.

you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.

the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.

“megumi fushiguro.”

you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.

you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.

your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”

your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.

the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.

you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”

your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”

the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”

toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”

that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.

“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.

toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.

megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”

the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.

“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.

you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.

your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”

you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.

it was inevitable at this point.

“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.

“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”

megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.

“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.

toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”

your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.

you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.

[pucksandpower]

He Wins in Monza

Charles Leclerc x Norris!Reader

Summary: in which Charles wins his second home race, kisses you in front of thousands of people against his better judgement, and pisses off your brother (again) in that order

The roar of the crowd in Monza is a force of nature, a living thing that pulses with every heartbeat of the race. Charles can still feel it vibrating through his chest, even though the race is over and the engine’s been cut.

He won.

He won in Monza.

Despite starting fourth, despite all the odds — he’s done it.

He throws himself at his team, elation pouring out in yells and whoops as they crowd around him, slapping his helmet, hugging him like they never want to let go.

He doesn’t want to let go either.

This is what they’ve all worked so hard for, what they’ve poured countless hours and sleepless nights into, and here it is — the reward. The trophy is almost within his grasp, and for a moment, it’s all he can think about.

Until he sees you.

You’re standing just outside the McLaren huddle, clapping along as Lando reluctantly acknowledges the crowd from his P3 position. Charles sees it, the way your eyes shine as you watch your brother, but there’s something else there too — something that makes his chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with the win.

You’re proud of Lando, sure, but when your gaze shifts and locks with his, it’s like the world stops spinning.

His breath catches. It’s the same look you gave him last night, when you whispered “good luck” in the dark, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw like you were trying to memorize him. The same look you gave him when you first admitted that maybe, just maybe, you were falling for him. The same look you gave him every time he stole a glance at you during those secret moments, hidden away from the world.

It’s too much, too fast. He should be thinking about the podium, about the ceremony, about not giving anything away, but the way you’re looking at him — he forgets all of it.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Charles is pushing past his team, the thrill of victory still pumping through his veins. The only thing he can think about is getting to you, of pulling you into his arms and kissing you senseless in front of everyone because what does it matter anymore?

He won. You’re here. Everything else is just noise.

“Charles!” One of the engineers calls after him, but his voice is drowned out by the crowd. Charles is barely aware of the weight of his helmet in his hand, of the sweat still cooling on his skin. He’s aware of you, only you, and the way your eyes widen just a fraction as you realize what he’s about to do.

“Charles, don’t-” you start, your voice barely audible over the chaos, but it’s too late. He’s already there, his free hand finding yours like it was made to fit, and he’s tugging you forward, into him.

The world tilts, and suddenly, you’re chest-to-chest, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in. There’s a moment, just a split second, where everything hangs in the balance, where he could still pull back and save you both from the fallout.

But then your fingers tighten around his, and he’s gone, lost in the warmth of your mouth, in the softness of your lips that taste like everything he’s ever wanted.

The kiss is electric, a jolt of pure, unfiltered joy that sparks from his lips and spreads through his entire body. It’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, that makes everything else fade into the background. The cheers, the cameras, the thousands of eyes on you — none of it matters. All that matters is the way you’re kissing him back, your hands slipping up to cup his face, holding him close like you’re afraid he might disappear.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only because he has to breathe, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath. “I couldn’t wait,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I had to … I had to …”

You’re looking up at him with a mixture of disbelief and something else — something softer, warmer. “You’re an idiot,” you breathe, but there’s no heat in it, just affection, deep and unshakeable. “We’re supposed to be keeping this a secret, remember?”

“Can’t,” he says, shaking his head slightly, his nose brushing against yours. “Not when you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the only one in the world.”

You huff a laugh, but it’s shaky, like you’re holding something back. “Charles, you just won in Monza. You are the only one in the world right now.”

“No,” he says, his voice soft but certain. “No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all.”

Your eyes search his, and he knows you’re trying to figure out what he means, trying to understand why he threw caution to the wind. He doesn’t know how to explain it, doesn’t know how to put into words the way you make him feel. How you make everything else fade away, how you’re the only thing that matters in a world that’s constantly spinning out of control.

“Charles,” you start, but the sound of Lando’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp and incredulous.

“What the hell is this?”

Charles stiffens, his hand still wrapped around yours, and he turns to find Lando staring at the two of you like he’s just been slapped. There’s a mix of confusion and anger on his face, his eyes darting between you and Charles as he tries to make sense of what he’s seeing.

“Lando, I-” you begin, but Lando’s not having it.

“How long?” He demands, his voice tight with the effort of keeping it together. “How long has this been going on?”

Charles opens his mouth to answer, but you beat him to it, your voice steady even as your hand trembles slightly in his grip. “A few months,” you admit, and Charles can feel the weight of those words, the way they hang in the air between the three of you.

“A few months?” Lando repeats, incredulous. “And you didn’t think to tell me? Either of you?”

“Lando, I wanted to, I swear, but-”

“But what? You thought it’d be fun to keep me in the dark?” Lando’s voice rises, and Charles can see the hurt behind the anger, the betrayal that’s twisting his features. “You’re my sister. And you-” He turns on Charles, his eyes blazing. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“I am,” Charles says quickly, his voice earnest. “I am your friend, Lando. This … this wasn’t meant to hurt you.”

“Then what was it meant to do?” Lando shoots back, his frustration palpable. “Because right now, it feels a hell of a lot like betrayal.”

You flinch at the word, and Charles feels it like a punch to the gut. He takes a step forward, his free hand reaching out toward Lando. “Lando, listen-”

“No,” Lando snaps, stepping back out of reach. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear any of it.” He runs a hand through his hair, his chest heaving as he tries to get a grip on his emotions. “I just … I need a minute, okay? I need to think.”

There’s a moment of silence, thick with tension, and then Lando turns on his heel and walks away, leaving you and Charles standing there, the weight of what just happened settling in.

Charles squeezes your hand, his heart pounding. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” you interrupt, your voice soft but firm. “I know.” You turn to face him, your eyes searching his. “But we have to deal with this now. We can’t just … ignore it.”

He nods, the reality of the situation sinking in. The euphoria of the win is fading, replaced by the cold, hard truth. Lando knows. The secret’s out. And now, there’s no going back.

“What do we do?” Charles asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You take a deep breath, your hand slipping out of his so you can cup his face, your touch grounding him in a way that nothing else can. “We talk to him,” you say, your voice steady despite everything. “We explain. And we hope he understands.”

Charles nods again, leaning into your touch, letting it soothe the anxiety that’s bubbling up inside him. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, we’ll talk to him.”

You smile, but it’s tinged with sadness, and it breaks his heart a little. “This wasn’t how I wanted him to find out,” you admit, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “But we’ll get through it. We have to.”

Charles closes his eyes, letting the warmth of your touch chase away the cold fear that’s gripping him. “I love you,” he says, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

He feels you freeze for a moment, and his heart skips a beat as he realizes what he’s just said. But then your hand tightens on his face, and when he opens his eyes, you’re looking at him with a softness that makes his chest ache.

“I love you too,” you whisper, and it’s like everything else falls away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, in this space.

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with emotions he can’t quite name. When he pulls back, his eyes search yours, and he finds the strength he needs there — steady, unwavering.

“We’ll get through this,” you say again, your voice a quiet promise.

He nods, his heart settling back into a steady rhythm. “Together,” he whispers, a small, determined smile tugging at his lips.

You smile back, and in that moment, with the chaos of the world swirling around you, Charles knows one thing for certain: as long as he has you by his side, everything else will fall into place.

[shady-swan-jones]

Alternative timeline

Elf-lover by mildthemes

Remember Me Like This by shady-swan-jones

Another Tale of Darkness Indeed by Hopeful_Foolx

This Fate Bound Throne by callitagift

Salt of the Sea and Iron Smoke by @poopsiekitten

Reforged in the Making by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks)

Bound to His Being by ChapterEight

A Deal with the Devil by Iblametumblrformyproblems

Poison & Wine by @coraleethroughthelookingglass

Human Halband

what makes night within us may leave stars by essaupe

These Hands are Rated E for Everyone by NumquamCedam

The Best Laid Plans by @ichabodjane

The Adventures of the Low Man by @ichabodjane and @somebirdortheother

Heal What Could Be Hurt by NumquamCedam

But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness, like a heartbeat, drives you mad by coraleethroughthelookingglass

Impulse Control by NumquamCedam

I Met the King of the Southlands Once (AND ALMOST DIED) by NumquamCedam

Back Into the Furnace by BetoWrites

I Could Get Used to This by orphan_account

Keeping Watch by @name1name1

Post s1

Know My Name As It's Called Again by @deceivedcomet

A Lord and his Builder by @90shaladriel

Lavage by kimsey

Binding by CartaEscarlate

Beautiful Lies by Ottertale

Queen of Night and Stars by @90shaladriel

King of The Southlands

The White Queen by LadyRosalune

Queen of the Southlands by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks)

Unsired by @shady-swan-jones

Shake Like the Bough of a Willow Tree and First Impressions by @myfavouritelunatic

Numenor

consolations of the flesh by framboise

All It Takes To Bind You by @shady-swan-jones

cry of the mourning petrel, tooth of the sea by @rain-sleet-snow

kalopsia by properhaunt

to call dark deeds good by prettybrilliantfunny

banquets have burned for you by @conundrumoftime

Adrift by bartagnans

The Souvenir by @somebirdortheother

A Curious Case of the Cart Trying to Push the Horse by orphan_account

What Happens in Numenor by @youwearfinethingswellwriter

Hands on You by @lisenberry

A Beacon Of Stars by @jhalya

Lady of the Seas by @conundrumoftime

i cannot heave my heart into my mouth by fallofrain

Slice of Paradise by @scriberated

Perfection by @nenyabusiness

All We Are, Flood Damage In The Dark by @klynnvakarian

Season 2

Splashes of colour on shades of grey by @mirroringdust

mitosis by @orcas86

the too plentiful light by @thefudge

More Painful Sacrifices by myfavouritelunatic

Until the Dawn Comes by @scribblecat27

light of the Two Trees by dxrklina

Primal Play by thenagil

destitute of the light he once craved by @mirroringdust

That all encompassing feeling by @naldoreth

and laid her soiled gloves by by @mortaltempless

A Goodbye by @youwearfinethingswellwriter

the labyrinth that binds us by eastwynds

Teeth by pinkishtea

A door, once opened by @maeday1551

I put a spell on you by @sixofwaffles

Darkness Bound by no_more_doubt

Stars & Shadows by @nowforruin

if that is to be the way of things by @hazelmaines

Epic Adventures (50k+)

A tragic age by @stitchingatthecircuitboard

The Trials of Mairon by bynightmylove

That Which Lies Across the Sea by @theriverwild

I could be your king by @cliffdivingsblog

Shadow-Bride by @conundrumoftime

In Case of Defeat, Break Glass by eastwynds

The Venus of Valinor by @thecoziestbean

Instruments of Salvation by @scriberated

The Lesser of Two Evils by @thrillofhope

Across That Fine Line by @myrsinemezzo

Beautiful Creature of Darkness by @pursuitseternal

Rainbow of Chaos by yletylyf

Litost and Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den by @demonscantgothere

Special fics

the nameless by bimmyou

Half Moon by vuas

The Mirror and the Palantír by @oroniel

Dubcon/dead dove

Hérincë by  @mzladybird

those who eat, those who are eaten by thehoneydoll

Until the Dawn Comes by Scriberated 

Trespassers Beware and Lord of the Werewolves by @pursuitseternal

Part 2 - Modern AU, Explicit & Bonus (coming soon)

[sugugasm]

BET | love and deepspace

⟡ tags : underground boxer! sylus + reader — sylus isn’t afraid of going all in when it comes to you.

ミ★ content warning : fem! reader uses she/her prns, mentions of blood & injuries, mentions of female anatomy as well as male anatomy, oral fem! receive, gentle to rough sex, pet names like bby, dove, kitten, honey, 5.0K WORD COUNT

you step into the dimly lit underground boxing gym, the air thick with the scent of sweat, cigarette smoke, and leather. it’s a seedy place, hidden in the heart of the city’s most notorious neighborhood, where the law doesn’t dare to tread. the crowd tonight is a mix of rough characters - bikers with gang patches on their jackets, local gangsters with glares and expensive watches, shady high-rollers in suits looking to place big bets on the illegal fights.

as you navigate through the throng of people, you spot him in the corner, preparing for his match. sylus - the man who happened to be your ex-boyfriend . . oh, and only the most feared bare-knuckled boxer in the underground circuit. he was a sight to behold, all rippling muscles and newfound tattoos, with messy silver hair that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. you watch as he methodically wraps his hands, his intense red eyes focused on the task.

your history with sylus is complicated, to say the least. you met him two years ago at a biker rally, drawn to his bad-boy charm and undeniable charisma. he swept you off your feet with his daredevil antics on his custom harley and his smooth talking ways. but sylus’s world was always filled with danger, violence, and illegal activities. as the leader of onychinus, the city’s most notorious motorcycle club, he ran an empire built on illicit evol weapons, protocore deals, and underground fighting.

at first, the thrill of it all was intoxicating - the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of his bike, the wild parties at the onychinus clubhouse, watching him dominate in the ring. but as time went on, you grew tired of the constant chaos and the fear that one day, sylus’s risky lifestyle would catch up to him. you wanted stability, a future - things that sylus scoffed at. ‘i live in the moment, babe,’ he would say with that infuriating smirk. ‘and right now, all i want is you.’

but it wasn’t enough. six months ago, after a particularly brutal fight that left sylus battered and bleeding, you reached your breaking point. you told him you couldn’t watch him destroy himself anymore, that you needed more than he could give you. sylus, stubborn and proud as ever, refused to change. ‘this is who i am,’ he growled. ‘so take it or leave it.’ so you left, walking away from the man you loved, determined to build a life free from the violence and uncertainty.

now, seeing him again after all this time, you feel a mix of emotions stirring within you. anger, hurt, frustration . . . but also a undeniable pull of attraction and longing. as if sensing your presence, sylus glances up, his red eyes locking with yours. a slow, confident smirk spreads across his handsome face as he saunters over to you, the crowd parting before him.

“well, well. look who it is,” he drawls, looking you up and down appreciatively. “didn’t expect to see you here tonight, [★]. come to watch me dominate the ring as usual?”

you scoff and cross your arms, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects you. “i’m not here for you, sylus. i’m just here to collect on some bets.”

he chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. “sure you are, sweetheart. keep telling yourself that.”

sylus takes a step closer, invading your personal space. he smells like musk and sandalwood, a scent that brings back memories of stolen moments and passionate nights. “i miss you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “everything’s been so boring without you around to keep me on my toes.”

you try to stay strong, but you can feel your resolve wavering. damn him and his charm. “i’m not here to rehash the past, sylus. what do you want?”

his eyes glint with a challenge. “make a bet with me - when i win the championship belt tonight, you give me another shot. a chance to prove that we’re meant to be together.”

you laugh in disbelief. “you can’t be serious. we’re done, sy. i’m not falling for your games again.”

“who says it’s a game?” he counters, his expression turning serious. “i know i messed up, [★]. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want you back in my life. i need you.”

you hesitate, torn between your lingering feelings and your better judgment. sylus is a force of nature, wild and untamed. being with him is like dancing on the edge of a razor - thrilling but dangerous. can you really risk your heart again?

“and what do i get if you lose?” you ask, buying yourself time to think.

sylus flashes you a cocky grin. “you know i never lose, kitten. but if by some miracle i do . . i’ll leave you alone. for good. unless you decide you can’t resist me and come crawling back.”

you snort at his arrogance, even as a part of you wonders if he might be right. sylus has always had a hold on you, an undeniable magnetism that draws you in against your will, “fine,” you hear yourself saying, almost as if from a distance. “you’ve got a deal.”

his grin widens, triumphant. “get ready to come back to where you belong, [★] - with me.”

the crowd starts to get louder, chanting and cheering as the lights flicker and dim. it’s almost time for the main event - sylus’s championship fight. he starts to walk towards the ring, but pauses and turns back to face you.

“watch closely now, honey,” he says with a wink. “i’m about to show you what you’ve been missing.”

with that, he strides away, his movements graceful and predatory. you watch him go, your heart pounding in your chest.

what had you gotten yourself into?

as the crowd’s chanting reaches a fevered pitch, sylus steps into the ring, the picture of coiled power and raw aggression. his opponent, a hulking brute known as ‘the mauler’, glares at him from across the mat, pounding his meaty fists together in a show of intimidation. but sylus just smirks, unfazed. he’s taken down bigger, badder fighters than this guy.

the referee calls them to the center, going over the rules - not that there are many in the underground circuit. “no biting, no eye gouging, fight ends with a knockout or tapout. keep it clean . . ish. touch gloves and come out swinging!”

sylus bumps his taped fists against the mauler’s, staring him down with those intense red eyes. then they’re backing away, the air crackling with tension as the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

the bell sounds and the mauler charges forward with a roar, swinging wildly. but sylus is too quick, too skilled. he slips and weaves, dodging the heavy blows, letting his opponent overextend himself. sylus fires off a rapid jab - cross combo, snapping the mauler’s head back and drawing first blood from his nose.

the big man snarls and redoubles his efforts, trying to use his size to his advantage, to trap sylus against the ropes and pummel him. but sylus is like smoke, always just out of reach. he targets the mauler’s weak spots with surgical precision - a knife-hand to the solar plexus to crush his wind, a heel kick to the floating rib, an elbow smash to the jaw.

each blow lands with devastating impact, chipping away at the mauler’s formidable stamina and sending the crowd into a frenzy. they chant sylus’s name like a war cry, thrilling at the sight of the chiseled, tattooed demigod of the ring in his element.

you watch in breathless awe, pulse racing, body heating. damn him. he’s magnificent like this - a perfect fighting machine, all fluid grace and controlled violence. it’s enough to make you forget why you walked away, to let yourself imagine those powerful hands on your body once more . .

a pained grunt snaps you back to the moment as the mauler finally lands a solid hit, a haymaker to sylus’s ribs that sends him staggering. your heart leaps into your throat. but sylus just shakes it off with a feral grin, spitting blood and bouncing on his toes as he beckons for more.

they trade blows in a brutal, lightning-fast exchange, neither giving quarter. the mauler is flagging but still dangerous, pure grit keeping him on his feet. sylus bleeds from a cut over his eye but barely seems to feel it, an unholy light in his gaze as he scents victory.

he presses his advantage with a dizzying flurry of strikes, driving the mauler back . . back . . until he’s pinned against the turnbuckle. sylus hammers his torso without mercy - left hook to the liver, right uppercut to the chin, again, again. the mauler’s knees buckle and sylus steps back, letting him crumple to the canvas.

the crowd erupts as the ref counts it out. at “ten,” sylus throws his hands up in triumph, basking in the adulation. his eyes find yours across the room and the heat in them makes your breath stop. in three long strides he’s out of the ring and hauling you into his arms, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

for a moment, you forget where you are. forget the mob of rowdy spectators whistling and catcalling. forget every reason you swore you'd never let him back into your heart. all you know is the demanding press of his lips, the steel - cable strength of his blood-slicked body, the intoxicating rush of his victory and your surrender . . .

“looks like i won our bet, babe,” he says smugly, smirking down at you. “hope you’re ready to pay up.”

you scowl, hating how easily he affected you. “one. drink. that was the deal.”

sylus touches his tongue to the seam of his split lip, gaze roving hungrily over you. “oh, i’m just getting started.”

he drags you through the throng of well-wishers and sycophants, his grip on your hand unbreakable. outside, the night air is cool against your overheated skin, charged with tension and the distant growl of engines.

sylus leads you to his pride and joy - that sleek demon of a harley crouched by the curb. the way he straddles the throbbing machine is blatantly sexual, all hard muscles and black leather. he jerks his head at the space behind him.

“c’mon - you know the drill, hop on.”

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

then, sylus kicks off and you’re flying, the city lights a neon blur as he opens the throttle. your pulse pounds in time with the roar of the pipes, excitement and desire a heady drug in your veins. by the time he screeches to a stop outside a dingy saloon on the outskirts of town, you’re dizzy with need.

inside, the bar is a den of sin and swagger, all scuffed leather and polished chrome and clinking bottles. eyes follow sylus with a mix of fear and reverence as he stalks to a booth in the back, one possessive hand at the small of your back.

he orders a whiskey, neat, and your favorite poison, not bothering to ask what you want. at your raised eyebrow, he shrugs.

“i remember.”

two words. but the weight of history and unspoken emotion behind them squeezes your heart. your fingers tremble slightly as you raise your glass in a mock toast.

“to your victory. and my reckless wager.”

sylus’ gaze is molten as he clinks his tumbler against yours, gaze holding you captive over the rim as he tosses back the smooth liquid. the slight burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the smolder of his stare.

“what are we doing, sy?” you ask into the charged quiet, liquid courage loosening your tongue. “why now, after all this time?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw. he looks down, spinning his empty glass, broad shoulders rigid with tension.

“i fucked up.”

his voice is low, raw with a vulnerability you've never heard from him. your breath snags.

“i thought i needed the rush, the rep, the respect. and yeah, maybe i did, for a while. but none of it meant shit without you.” slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he reaches for your hand — lacing his scarred, tape-wrapped fingers with yours, “i was a coward. i pushed you away because i was scared shitless of how bad i wanted you - needed you. needed your strength, your goodness. you made me want to be better. and it truly fucking terrified me.”

his grip tightens, almost painfully. anchoring you to him.

“losing you . . it broke me, [★]. made me realize that the only thing i’m actually afraid of is living without you.”

sylus swallows hard, his throat working. when he looks up at you, his eyes are blazing with fierce intent.

“i know i don’t deserve another shot. i know i need to earn back your trust. but i swear to whoever may hold my fate, if you give me a chance, i will spend every waking day proving that you’re my whole damn world.”

your heart is a wild bird in your chest, frantic and yearning. you search his face, finding only sincerity and aching tenderness beneath the bruises and blood.

“i never stopped loving you,” you confess, voice breaking. “no matter how hard i tried to hate you . . i couldn’t let you go.”

sylus makes a rough sound, halfway between a growl and a groan. then he’s kissing you, deep and urgent and saying everything he can't put into words. you fall into him, all hunger and desperation, the levee finally breaking on the flood of your need.

“take me home,” you gasp into his mouth, fingers curling in the sweat-damp silk of his hair.

“i thought you’d never ask, dove.”

the anticipation is a living thing as sylus speeds through the lamp-lit streets, the throaty growl of his harley between your thighs a heady reminder of the man commanding the machine. by the time he pulls into the cavernous garage beneath his loft, your body is humming, every nerve ending alight with need.

sylus is on you the moment you dismount, crowding you back against the rough brick wall, his large frame enveloping yours. his kiss is searing, possession and passion, strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds into you. you moan into his mouth, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his leather-clad shoulders, craving more.

“been dreaming about this,” he rasps against your lips, his voice like gravel and whiskey, igniting heat in your veins. “having you back in my arms, in my bed. fuck, [★], need you so bad it's like a sickness.”

“then take me,” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant hunger shining in those crimson eyes. “i’m here, sylus. i’m yours.”

something animalistic unfurls behind his gaze, a primal sort of satisfaction that has you clenching with want. in a burst of movement, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his lean hips as he strides purposefully to the industrial elevator that will carry you to his domain.

the short ride up is a haze of frantic kisses and roving hands, two years’ worth of pent-up longing seeking outlet. by the time sylus kicks open the door to his loft, you’re both panting, clothes askew and lips kiss-bruised. he carries you straight to the bedroom, a cavern of shadows and silver moonlight spilling across rumpled black silk sheets. when he lays you down in the center of that decadent expanse, the reverence in his touch steals your breath. his battle-scarred fingers shake slightly as they skim over your curves, learning you anew.

“so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, crimson gaze tracking hungrily over your body like he's committing every detail to memory. “can’t believe i almost lost this . . lost you . .”

“never,” you whisper fiercely, reaching up to cup his angular jaw. “i’m here, sylus. right where i belong. and i’m not going anywhere.”

he turns his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his lips graze your fingers — and ever so gently, he bites. then slowly, deliberately, he divests you of your clothes, unwrapping you like a gift. you echo his actions, baring him inch by glorious inch to your avid gaze.

sylus’s body is a work of art, all chiseled muscle and inked skin, a roadmap of violence and survival. you take your time tracing the ridges and hollows, the scars and scrolling tattoos, familiarizing yourself with this new landscape of him. he shudders beneath your questing touch, eyes fluttering shut, a low rumble building in his chest.

“[★],” he grits out, and fuck, how you’ve missed the way he says your name, guttural and raw, like a prayer and a plea. “please, baby . . need to taste you.”

“yes,” you hiss, already aching, empty. “please, sylus.”

granted, he descends on you like a man starved, that talented mouth charting a path of fire over your sensitized flesh. he maps every curve and valley with lips and teeth and tongue, each nip and suck and lap stoking the inferno building in your core.

when he finally settles between your trembling thighs, the first bold stroke of his tongue punches the air from your lungs, your spine arching involuntarily. he groans in appreciation, strong hands splaying your thighs wider, opening you fully to his voracious appetite.

“fuck, i missed this,” he rasps against your slick folds, the vibration of his words making you keen. “missed the way you taste, the sounds you make when i devour this sweet cunt. could feast on you for hours, little one . .”

you whimper breathlessly, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other tangling in his silver hair, holding him to you. sylus takes the encouragement for what it is, sealing his mouth over your aching flesh and suckling greedily. stars erupt in your eyes, pleasure rioting through your veins as he works you ruthlessly, adding clever fingers to his oral assault. he curls them just right, rubbing that secret spot that has you seeing god, all while his wicked tongue paints obscene promises on your clit.

“s-sy, fuck!” you wail, back bowing, thighs clamping around his ears as he drives you higher and higher. “oh god, yes, just like that! don’t stop, please, i’m gonna’ cum . . fuck, baby-”

he doubles his efforts, a man possessed, growling his own pleasure into your core. “that’s it, my love,” he urges gutturally between long, lewd licks. “go ahead and give it to me, wanna’ feel you drench my face, want you gushing on my tongue . .”

his filthy encouragement hurls you over the edge with a strangled scream, release slamming into you like a freight train. you shatter spectacularly, pulsing and clenching around his thrusting fingers, slick gushing into his eager mouth as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

when you finally drift back down to earth, aftershocks still rippling through you, sylus is grinning up at you wolfishly from between your thighs, his beard glistening obscenely with your essence. “fucking incredible,” he rumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your still-twitching center. “could watch you fall apart on my tongue forever and never get tired of it.”

“get up here,” you demand breathlessly, tugging him to you. he comes willingly, settling his considerable bulk over you, caging you beneath miles of warm, hard muscle.

you claim his mouth in a filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. he responds with matching hunger, hips rocking into the cradle of your thighs, the thick ridge of his erection a brand against your sensitive flesh.

“please,” you whimper into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “need you inside me, sylus. been too long, i want it . .”

“fuck,” he snarls, the words seeming to snap his restraint. “far too long, honey. be patient, you know i will.” slowly, giving you time to adjust, he notches himself at your entrance and pushes forward, gasping harshly at the tight, wet heat of you enveloping him. “goddamn,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forehead pressed to yours. “silly me. i almost forgot how fucking perfect you feel. like coming home.”

“yes,” you moan, reveling in the familiar stretch and burn of his thick length entering your body. “missed this so much . . missed you . . love you, sylus, so fucking much.”

“i love you too,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before surging back in, starting a deep, rolling rhythm that has your toes curling. “i never stopped, never will. you’re only for me, [★]. only me.”

you lose yourselves to the timeless dance, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, rediscovering every perfect angle and hidden sweet spot. sylus takes his time, building you back up with long, measured strokes, whispering words of worship into your skin, branding you with his love.

“so good,” he groans, hitching your leg higher on his hip, sinking impossibly deeper. “could stay buried in this tight little pussy forever. never wanna leave.”

“don’t.” you gasp, fingers clawing at his flexing back, desperate for more. “stay — harder, sylus, fuck me harder. wanna’ be able to feel it tomorrow.”

with a low, approving growl, sylus complies, snapping his hips faster, driving into your yielding body with the piston precision of the machine he rides. the wet, obscene slap of flesh fills the room, punctuated by your escalating moans and cries.

“i’m not gonna last,” he warns, rhythm faltering. “too good, too fucking good. tell me you’re close, baby . .”

“s-so close,” you pant, the coil in your belly wound to the breaking point. “just a little more - fuck, right there, sy . . o-oh my —”

sylus hammers into you, grunting with the effort, sweat sheening his skin. he wedges a hand between your straining bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. “cum on my cock,” he demands, voice strained. “let me feel that pussy grip me, milk me . .” his words are your undoing, hurling you into oblivion with a keening wail. your inner muscles seize around him, rippling and fluttering, trying to pull him deeper as you drench his driving length in release.

“fuck, yes!” sylus roars, pistoning wildly, chasing his own end. “gonna’ - ah, shit, kitty, i’m cumming!” his climax overtakes him with a force that borders on violence, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself deep in your still-spasming core, painting your inner walls with thick ropes of his seed. you mewl weakly in blissed-out overstimulation, aftershocks rolling through you as he fills you to the brim.

finally spent, sylus collapses onto you, taking care not to crush you with his bulk. you cuddle as sweat and other fluids cool on your skin, hearts gradually slowing in tandem. he’s still stuffed deep inside you and you clench involuntarily around his now-softening length, loving the way he groans, overused nerves sparking. “keep that up and we’ll be going again real soon,” he warns playfully, nuzzling into your neck.

you huff a laugh, carding your fingers through his damp hair. “yeah, yeah,” you tease. “we’ve got time now, sylus. all the time in the world. i’m not going anywhere.”

he raises his head to look at you, crimson eyes soft and full of wonder. “damn right you’re not,” he rumbles, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “i’m never letting you out of my sight again. you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

“eh, could be worse,” you quip, grinning up at him. “i think i can handle being stuck with you. it’s only forever, after all.”

“forever,” sylus echoes solemnly, like an oath. “i like the sound of that. you and me. binded as one.”

“ . . . and loving each other stupid every chance we get,” you finish impishly, wiggling your eyebrows.

he barks a laugh, the joyful, uninhibited sound making your heart soar. “oh, that is definitely part of the plan,” he assures you, a wicked gleam in his eye. “gotta’ make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“mmhm, that we do,” you agree readily, warmth suffusing you. “better get started on that. forever’s not getting any longer.”

“as my lady commands,” sylus murmurs, capturing your mouth again as he begins to stir inside you once more.

and as passion ignites anew, the promise of countless tomorrows enfolding you like a benediction, you know this is just the beginning of the ups and downs.

because this love, tempered by loss and longing, by time and truth . . it’s unbreakable. a bond that even the harshest trials will only serve to strengthen.

and with sylus by your side, his heart in your keeping as surely as yours rests in his scarred and steady hands . .

. . you know you can weather any storm.

forever, and then some.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent. tagging @ramonathinks <3

[shadowsole]

.

[felinecyan]

Untouchable

[Katsuki Bakugo x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When a classmate breaks a well-known rule within the dorm, you decide to take it upon yourself to “fix” the issue.

WC: 2863

Category: Mega Fluff, Kindhearted!Reader, Todoroki being an icon (like always 💅)

I don’t know about you guys, but writing for Bakugo is the single hardest thing I have ever done. He is SUCH a difficult character to get right 😭

I believe I did him justice, though 🙏🙏

『••✎••』

Kaminari had a death wish. That was the only logical explanation for why the electric blonde was currently in the common room with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, along with a bowl of ramen that just so happened to belong to one Katsuki Bakugo.

Food was the one thing the explosive hero didn't joke around with, and the rest of Class 1-A was painfully aware of that fact. It was like a rule that had been ingrained into everyone's minds after spending any amount of time around the temperamental blonde.

Do not, under any circumstances, mess with Bakugo's food. Ever.

So the moment you had walked out of the kitchen and saw the familiar spice-infused soup in Kaminari's hands, you knew there was about to be a disaster. And that disaster was going to happen at the cost of the boy's life.

You were about to warn Kaminari when a familiar voice stopped you, its monotone quality giving away that it belonged to the heterochromatic hero. "Don't."

Todoroki shook his head at your concerned expression, a sigh leaving his lips. "It's not worth the effort; he'll learn the hard way. I would suggest standing back unless you want to get hit."

As if on cue, the sound of a bowl shattering against the floor echoed through the common room, and you flinched as bits of ramen and broth splattered your pants and shoes. You could only imagine what kind of mess it would have made if you had been standing any closer.

At the same time, Jiro sighed, plugging her ears as she muttered, "So much for getting some peace and quiet today."

Kaminari stood a few feet away from the mess, his entire body trembling in fear. He was too scared to move, frozen to the spot. His golden eyes were glued to the blonde standing before him, a murderous aura surrounding the ash-blonde.

"Bakugo, look, I can explain—"

The blonde's crimson eyes flashed in anger, and his face contorted into a feral snarl as he cut the electric user off. You couldn't stop the flinch that shook your body at the tone. "You... you..."

"It's just one bowl of ramen, dude! I'm sure you could easily make another one!" Kaminari exclaimed, waving his hands in front of his chest frantically. "I mean, come on, I know you love spicy food, but surely you're not that much of a monster that you'd kill me over it! Especially with something so mild as that!"

The room went silent, and Kaminari's words echoed in everyone's ears, but it only took Todoroki’s comment for the tension to change from fearful to downright chaotic.

"That was his last packet."

It was almost comical how fast the blood drained from Kaminari's face and how fast it returned a second later. The electric blonde gulped, a nervous laugh escaping him.

"B-Bakugo, listen—"

He was cut off again, this time by an explosion, which had been aimed right at his face. Thankfully, Bakugo missed on purpose, but the sound had been enough to startle everyone.

"You're so dead, Spark Plug!"

And thus began the chase, with Kaminari being chased around the room by an enraged Bakugo. Kaminari's screams of terror and Bakugo's threats and explosions filled the air, and everyone watched on in amusement.

Well, everyone except for Iida. He was chasing Bakugo, trying to calm the blonde down and yelling at him for using his quirk indoors, but his efforts were fruitless.

"Stop running around the room! You're going to destroy the furniture and break something!"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, DUNCE FACE! GET BACK HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!"

Typical afternoon in the U.A. dorms.

After what felt like forever, the chaos eventually died down, with Bakugo calming down enough to sit and stew in his anger and Kaminari passing out from his quirk short-circuiting. You helped Iida clean up the mess that had been left behind, and everyone else returned to their activities.

But you felt bad for Bakugo. Yes, the blonde was a little intense and downright mean sometimes, but you knew what it felt like to crave something you didn't have. Especially when you physically buy that ‘something.' So, you decided to go out and get the angry Pomeranian a replacement packet.

Of course, given the fact that being empathetic was a common occurrence for you, the explosive hero wasn't at all surprised to see you walking toward the doors of the dorms with nothing but your wallet and a smile.

And he was not pleased.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

You stopped in your tracks, turning around to face the blonde, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Honestly, you were still shocked that he was still in his uniform, given he usually changes the moment he walks through the dorms. Not to mention, he even started wearing it properly, which was a feat in itself.

"Umm..."

"If you're about to say the damn store, I'll blow your ass to the moon," he threatened, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips.

"I'm just going to get you some more packets, okay? It's not a big deal," you said, your eyes softening. "I don't like seeing people upset, especially not over things that can easily be solved."

"Like hell, I'm upset!" He snapped, but the lack of bite in his voice gave him away.

You raised an eyebrow but kept your mouth shut. After knowing Bakugo for as long as you have, you've learned that the best way to deal with him is to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself—at least, all thoughts and opinions about him.

"I'll be back in an hour, okay?" You said, offering him a kind smile. "Is there anything else you need?"

Something about the look in your eyes and the kindness in your voice was enough to make the blonde falter, his resolve slipping. He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl on his face.

But, since he didn't respond, you figured that was all you were going to get from him. So, you turned back around and headed for the doors, intent on leaving.

You hadn't gotten very far, however, when the sound of the couch squeaking alerted you. You turned your head just in time to see Bakugo jump over the back of the sofa, his slacks making a thud sound as he landed, snatching his phone off the coffee table before he headed in your direction.

He grumbled something incoherent under his breath, causing you to tilt your head, but before you could say anything, your wrist was being grabbed, and the front door was opening.

"If we're gonna get the damn ramen, then I'm coming with. It's annoying when people come back with the wrong shit, so it's better to go myself."

"Oh," you hummed, not expecting him to follow you. You smiled up at him, and the scowl on his face deepened. "Well, alright, then. The more, the merrier."

Bakugo grunted in response, dropping his grip on your wrist so he could shove his hands into his pockets. "Just keep up, alright? I don't want to wait for your slow ass."

With that, the blonde walked out of the dorms, and you were quick to follow.

For those twenty minutes, you couldn’t help but be amazed at how quiet the walk to the store was. Normally, Bakugo was yelling at someone for one reason or another. Whether it was because they were stupid, slow, or a bunch of other reasons that seemed to only make sense in his head, he was never silent.

But, currently, it was different. Bakugo wasn't talking, or yelling, or grumbling, or doing any of the things he normally does. He wasn't even walking fast, keeping his pace slow just enough so you could keep up.

He didn’t have a scowl on his face, either. He wasn’t smiling, of course, which would actually terrify you if he was, but there also wasn’t a sign of irritation or anger on his face.

In fact, he was the most relaxed you had ever seen him, his muscles not as tense as usual, and his posture was straight, yet not rigid. And his crimson eyes seemed to have a hint of softness in them, something that you had never noticed before.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even realized that the two of you had arrived at the store until the ash-blonde had started walking through the automatic doors, not waiting for you to catch up.

Shaking your head, you hurried inside, quickly scanning the store for a sign that pointed to the aisle where the ramen packets were. Bakugo was a couple of feet ahead of you, with a look of indifference on his face as he followed the sign. However, he stopped once he reached the right aisle and turned around to look at you.

"Hurry it up, nerd," he growled, his impatience getting the better of him.

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your face. "I'm going, I'm going."

Bakugo didn't say anything as he turned back around and started walking through the aisles, and you were hot on his heels. Believe it or not, you were on a side mission, determined to not just grab the ramen for him.

He got distracted, and the two of you weren't in a hurry, so you went around and grabbed a few things that you knew your classmates had mentioned wanting. If you were going to take the time to go to the store, you might as well make it count.

After a few minutes, you ran into Bakugo, who had his arms full of different flavors of the ramen brand he liked. He took one singular glance at the contents of your basket and rolled his eyes.

"The hell are you getting all that shit for? I ain’t helping you carry anything."

"Well," you huffed, a pout on your face. He seemed to realize you were about to give him an entire speech because he immediately let out the most dramatic groan you had ever heard from him and began walking away.

You didn't care, though, and continued speaking, following him around the store.

"Well, I was just going to get the ramen and be done with it, but then I ran into Mina, who told me she was craving some 'chocolatey goodness,' which are her words, not mine," you explained, pulling out the package of chocolate-covered strawberries.

"Anyway, so, then I ran into Kirishima, who was complaining that there were no manly snacks in the pantry, and the last of his protein bars were eaten the other day, ironically also by Kaminari," you added, showing him the small box of protein bars. "So, I figured I'd get him some more and make sure Kaminari has his own snacks."

Bakugo groaned once more, still refusing to look at you. And, again, you ignored him and kept speaking.

"Also, Sero wanted more chips, and Koda was asking for some extra treats for the animals," you continued, showing him the chips and animal treats. "I didn't run into Midoriya, but he’s been awfully kind with his notes, so I'm pretty sure he would appreciate some gummies and pocky."

"Alright, I get it," Bakugo grumbled, a grimace on his face.

"Mineta also asked if I could grab him a new bag of limes, but I figured, after that little stunt he pulled in the changing room, that he doesn't deserve to have his gross habits indulged." You scoffed, trying to make a dramatic gesture but failing, given the items in your arms.

Bakugo paused in the middle of the aisle, turning around to finally face you, his arms still full. "You done?"

"Hey, you asked." You shrugged, a smile on your face. "I wasn't finished, though. Jiro wants more popcorn, Ojiro needs some more protein powder, Hagakure needs—"

"Is any of that shit even for you?" He cut you off, narrowing his eyes at you.

You pursed your lips and tilted your head. "No. Why?"

"You came all this way, wasting money on everyone else's crap, and didn't even think about grabbing shit for yourself?" He asked, his eyes narrowing further. "Are you stupid or something?"

"Um, well, no?" You answered although it came out as more of a question. "It's not a big deal. I was already going here, anyway."

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He walked forward and, without a word, dropped his armful of ramen onto your own. "Hold these."

Before you could protest, the ash-blonde walked past you and disappeared from view. Confused, you spun around and tried to follow him, but the sudden weight in your arms made it hard to move.

"Bakugo, wait up! I can't move!"

"Then stop moving, idiot." His voice was muffled by the shelves, and you couldn't tell where exactly he was. But, as if he had a sixth sense for things like this, Bakugo returned to the aisle, his arms full of random snack foods and drinks.

"What are you—"

"Shut up and follow me," he said, not letting you finish your sentence. You opened your mouth to speak, but a sharp glare from the blonde made you close it.

Bakugo led you through the aisles and dropped the items onto the conveyor belt, much to the surprise of the cashier. The young girl didn't dare comment on the large pile of utter junk food, however, and merely rang it all up, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Once the total came up, you pulled out your wallet to hand the girl the money, not wanting Bakugo to waste any of his own money on you, but the blonde snatched the bills from your fingers before you could pay.

"Hey, what—"

"I said, shut up." He clicked his tongue and turned away, his back facing you. You could hear the rustle of his pockets as he fished out his own wallet, and you were quick to shake your head.

"Bakugo, the whole point of me coming here was so I could pay. You were the one who got his last packet stolen, so I was supposed to be paying for the new one, and—"

"Do you ever shut the hell up?" Bakugo interrupted, his voice gruff. He didn't turn around to face you, but his tone was enough for you to shut up. "I don't give a shit about the money. It's my own damn fault for letting that dunce face near my food, anyway."

"But—"

"And it's not like I need the money," he added, pulling a couple of bills from his wallet and handing them to the cashier. "My parents are loaded. It's not a big deal."

Way to show off, Blasty.

But you knew better than to say that. Instead, you closed your mouth, your eyes softening. It didn't make sense to you, though, because not only was he buying his own replacement ramen, but he was also buying an abundance of junk food, which, while tasty, wasn't for him or you.

It's always about repaying the favor with him, but this was just... unnecessary.

"Thank you," you said instead, knowing that he would only get irritated if you kept protesting. "That was... unexpectedly nice of you."

"Don't make a big deal out of it," he grumbled, picking up a few of the bags. He handed them to you, and you struggled to balance the weight, but you didn't complain. "It was your fault for being too damn nice."

You blinked, not sure if you were supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult. Either way, you didn't say anything and merely nodded. Bakugo didn't spare you a second glance as he grabbed the rest of the bags and began walking toward the exit.

"You coming, or what?" He called out, not looking back at you.

A smile grew on your face, and despite him not even looking at you, something told you he could sense the happiness radiating from you. You hurried forward, struggling a bit to balance the bags in your arms and keep up with Mr. Grumps, but the smile didn't leave your face.

"So... does this mean we're friends now?"

"The hell? No!"

"I think we are, Blasty."

"Don't call me that." He narrowed his eyes at you, but you merely giggled.

"Would you rather it be Kacchan? Kaminari's been using that one a lot lately."

"Call me that, and I'll blast you into the fucking sun."

"Blasty it shall be, then."

Needless to say, the walk back to the dorms was the complete opposite of the walk to the store. But, just as the silence between the two of you was comfortable then, the bickering and teasing and overall playful nature of the conversation was comfortable now.

Bakugo would never admit it, and you knew better than to ask, but he didn't have a problem with the nickname or the new friendship that blossomed between the two of you.

And you didn't have a problem, either.

[togament]

umemiya is such a sweet big brother type of character i feel he's a BIG family man so imagine the sort of thoughts that would be thunk when he sees his s/o taking care of the younger furin members/children in general.. 👉👈 could be both nsfw and sfw too hehe

eeeee an ume ask! tysm anon. of course, i live to provide for the ume girlies too. him being a huge family guy is making me sweat a lil. hoooooo- 🥹

thinking about being fresh into a relationship with ume and him… realizing some things way too soon.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : breeding breeding BREEDING. breeder ballz ume. imagined sexual scenarios. general seggs.

NSFW under the cut. +18 stuff. MDNI, pookie. sowwie. you know the drill.

just like most nights, you and the Furin boys congregate to the Pothos Café.

also just like most nights, you find yourself standing over the first years’ table, playfully nagging at sakura for getting scratched up after you just patched him up good yesterday.

ume, being the absolute best boyfriend that he is, he doesn’t look on in jealousy. hell. he’s smiling so stupidly that hiragi spares him a glance and grins at him.

“take a picture it lasts longer,” hiragi teases, taking a sip from his black coffee, nudging ume out of his love induced stupor.

“can you blame me though? I mean, look at them,” he sighs wistfully, motioning to your table. hiragi follows his gaze.

you’re still there, fighting and giggling with a now red sakura, desperately trying to reach him to clean his wounds. it’s absolute chaos but seeing you getting along with the furin members and doting on them like your own siblings is only making ume fall for you even harder.

how his heart swoons at the thought of having you be a permanent fixture to his found family. how he wants to get married to you one day, to take care of a family of your own. “she’d be such a good mother to my kids,” he thinks. but before he realizes he was thinking out loud, he slowly turns to a smirking hiragi. “hm? say whatnow?” hiragi prods.

Pause.

‘she’d be such a good mother to my kids,’ he finally manages to think silently. he rotates that thought around in his mind like a puzzle, panicking inwardly. isn’t it a bit too soon to think of those things? right? I mean, you just got into a relationship with him after being friends for years — can’t be, right? to save face, he only chuckles, waving hiragi off with a limp hand.

“it’s a grown up thought. you wouldn’t get it.” he teases. but damn. just looking at you from across the café right now’s stirring a different type of feeling within him.

he finds you again in his thoughts that night in his room, your tight cunt is in the form of his fist. your name falling from his lips as he pumps on his length. his eyebrows are knit together so tightly, his eyes closed, imagining you laid out on his bed, pussy dripping with his cum. if he can’t have you the way he wants right now, he’ll just have to put his mind to work.

he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder as he slides in for the nth time that night in his thoughts, the wet squelch ever audible. he’s reaching you deeper in this position now, eager to shoot more of his load as close to your womb as possible — overload it, even. it spills, drips down onto his bedsheets but he doesn’t care.

“y-you’re gonna be such a great mother,” you hear him groan. you’re way too fucked out to respond while his eyes are raking down your naked form, breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust. sweaty and panting, you reach down to rub at your clit and he bites back a moan at the added sensation. you’re tightening up around him. his fat breeder balls slap against your ass. it’s fucking amazing how endless his stamina is. you can only let out a weak whimper in response.

some days, he makes love to you so gently in his mind, taking his sweet time to bring you the pleasure you so deserve. pressing gentle kisses along your legs, your belly, your chest.

but lately, he’s been wanting to fold you over and fuck you senselessly, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. it’s downright nasty, rough—but can you blame him?

he needs to fucking breed you.

“gonna fill you up, baby. gonna put a baby in ya-“ he reaches down to cup your cheek in his hand. you instinctively lean into his touch and he swears his heart skips a beat. “y’want that? all plump with our kid inside of you. gonna look even more beautiful-“ he chuckles, ramming harder into you. his grip tightens around your leg, a pattern of crescents litter your soft flesh as he keeps a steady grip using it as leverage to fuck deeper.

you feel a tight coil in your belly, wanting to cum again on his thick, thick breeder cock. your fingers fly to the sheets below you, gripping so desperately with your head buried into the pillow beside you. moans and screams muffled by the saliva-soaked material.

“that’s right, sweetheart. cum. cum with me. f-fuuugh-!” a groan leaves your boyfriend’s lips as he feverishly rubs at your clit, bringing you to cum with him. a mixture of his juices and yours dribble down his balls and down your thighs, soaking the mattress further.

-

his toes curl and his back arches away from his bed as he pumps his cock desperately, your name escaping his lips unbidden in pants and whimpers. his cum squirts far, even reaching his cheek and his pillow.

“fuuuuck,” he whispers to himself, sitting up from his bed to wipe himself up, already dreading the clean up process.

but his doorknob turns with a gentle knock on his door.

you catch him looking like a deer in headlights, cock still in hand and cum smearing his uniform and cheek.

smirking, you step inside his room slowly, eyeing him down with a blush creeping up your neck.

“I’d be a ‘great mother’, huh?”

the door closes with a click behind you.

shit.

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

a/n: 😮‍💨 gotta love me some desperate ume.

[gay-dorito-dust]

could I request randomly shouting “floor is lava!” In front of the batboys? I’m in the mood for a crack fic

It was a dreary day within the Wayne manor and everyone was bored out of their minds. Nothing they did was enough to cure the boredom they were subjected to that day.

However a day of hope appeared before them in the form of you bursting through the door, holding a unbothered Alfred the cat in one hand and a confused Jerry the Turkey in the other, screaming: ‘THE FLOOR IS LAVA!’

Dick is pushed to the floor and stepped on by a mysterious assailant but manages to get up and use his acrobatic skills -cheat skills as Jason would like to call them- to project himself upwards to the expensive chandelier and clung on for dear life.

He was 100% safe.

Smug bastard and his cheat codes -Jason Tood, certified older brother hater aka the younger sibling.

Jason pushed dick onto the floor and step onto his back, somehow trips and lands flat on his face against the carpeted flooring. However he quickly recovers by picking himself back up and bolts towards the curtains instead, where he tries to cling onto them for dear life as the sound of fabric slowly ripping could be heard by everyone.

Jason was on a time limit before he was sent plummeting back to the floor and towards his second death. 39% survival rate.

Damian is the first of the bunch to move into action as he -somehow- managed to grab Titus in a feet of hidden strength fueld by adrenaline, throwing the Great Dane over his shoulder, and still found it within himself to then clamber up the book shelves in the library where he stayed to watch the chaos below him like he was god.

The bookshelves are wooden, it was only a matter of time before he and Titus would have to change to a different location. 50% survival rate. Titus is a good puppy.

Tim shuts the computer, sets it aside and follows Jason’s example by lying down on the floor and awaits his fate with a blank expression. ‘My time has come.’

0% survival rate, instant death but Tim don’t give two shits, he’s lived long enough.

Duke: poor lad is freaking out trying to find a good spot and settles with standing on the table with the janky leg as he was forced to continuously fight for his balance atop of it.

He’s lost too many times just to loose again. He hates floor is lava with a vengeance. 50% survival rate if he doesn’t fall off and looses his fight with the table.

Stephane: the mastermind behind the whole ordeal, cackles as she stays lounging on the plush sofa, sipping her drink unbothered by the consequences to come through the door.

50% survival rate, may drop lower if she tries to reach for her phone that she had left on the table where Duke was. She hadn’t thought this whole thing through admittedly.

Bruce Wayne: heard the chaos and went to see what was happening and sighs upon seeing his children, plus you, practically having destroyed the library over a stupid game.

He’s too old for this shit but ends up showing all of you up either way by standing atop of the stone mantle piece of the fireplace, menacingly.

10000% survival rate bc it’s Bruce Wayne.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Different is Better

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Javi invites your ex back with Storm Par amidst the flirtation between you and Tyler. 

Notes/Warnings: This was a combination of requests, so it's not exactly what everyone asked for, but I got it as close as I could, sp hopefully it satisfies in some ways. Allusion to smut. Cursing probably. Scott sucks (sorry to the Scott lovers), Javi sucks a little too (sorry to the Javi lovers).

Words: 2850

Tyler Owens Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

The second the Storm Par team finishes settling on the schedule for tomorrow, you remove yourself from the rest of the chasers in the parking lot, Wranglers included, and press your back into the outer wall of the motel. Perfectly out of sight and free to feel how you want without judgment.

You can’t breathe around him. You can’t think properly. And damn him for fucking loving it. Damn the smirk that slices into your skin. Damn fucking Javi for requesting his participation on the team after swearing up and down that he wouldn’t. Damn him for not warning you, forcing you to spend the last half-hour since his arrival in wild discomfort.

It had been so good without him. The best chasing you’d done in years. Relaxing, free from tension despite the chaos of rolling into the heart of unpredictable weather. In his absence, you chased with excitement; you chased with that tingly zingy feeling in your gut; you chased with a pounding heart, with hands shaky not from nerves but from raw, untainted energy shooting throughout your entire body. 

The last two months of chasing renewed your love of the craft and proved more than anything that Scott has been—and still is—a soul-sucking, life-draining leech….to you, anyway. 

But everyone already loves him, just short of instantly obsessed with him, especially the females of the group who neglect that ‘award-winning’ personality he’s managed to display in only thirty-two minutes. Shamefully, it almost makes you wish the team Javi assembled had fewer young college girls and a heck of a lot more mature, determined women. They would easily see past his looks and recognize that his intelligence does not surpass that of anyone else on the team. He is not some rare, fascinating, genius savior who has come to solve all of the data-collecting problems the team’s been having; he’s just an extra helping hand that, frankly, you firmly believe you don’t need. 

But no…as has been the case each time you’ve worked together since you ended your little college fling—or whatever the fuck it was—he gets to be Mr. Perfect, and you’re stuck as the angsty bitch who whines over him being here. 

“So…that’s the guy, huh?” Tyler asks as he rounds the corner and joins you under the cover of near-darkness. 

He practically shines under the damaged streetlamp’s thin, flickering light. You’re not looking at him, but you don’t have to be to see that much clearly. He glows in your peripherals, and with another step closer to you, your heartbeat stumbles within your ribcage. 

Tyler is the one thing you credit for reviving you. What started as a less-than-friendly rivalry changed when you accepted a challenge to chase with his crew one day, and though Javi was displeased, you were too curious about Tyler’s methods to turn him down. 

With one ride in his truck, the spark you thought had long died reignited. Now you have a respect for Tyler that the rest of your team does not. Respect…and a bit more. 

Though you would never abandon your team, you became increasingly hooked on the idea of chasing with Tyler again, and it was so stupidly obvious. And with that obviousness, an unspoken essence of sorts developed between you. A forbidden attraction you’re both aware of but have yet to fully act on, though not for lack of trying.

You take turns almost breaking that final barrier—heavy breathing, noses nearly brushing, lips a hairs-width away from connecting, but something always gets in the way: his team, yours, the weather. But not this time. Cock-block of the day? Scott Miller. 

Tyler’s eyes stay on your cheek as he stuffs his hands into his front jean’s pockets. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

When you look at Tyler, your brows knit at the disappointment on his face. He offers a smile, but it’s far less convincing than what he is capable of, like he didn’t even bother trying to give you one of his good ones. And you’ve seen a good smile from Tyler Owens. It can knock anyone off their feet. 

“It isn’t,” you tell him as you turn your attention back to the miles of grass in front of you. At night, under such little light, the eye gets tricked and the blades blend into a vast span of blackness, like a giant hole in the ground just a few feet away. One you might consider jumping into it if you could. 

“I mean, it was,” you continue, “but not anymore.”

He nods. “You have to work close with him?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Unfortunately.”

Tyler blows out a breath. His hand runs through his hair before his head falls back against the brick wall of the motel, eyes closed and chin tilted toward the night sky. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

“Yea.”

Cicadas fill the following silence. Lightning bugs sprinkle throughout the space around you, thriving in the intense humidity that adds a thin sheen to your skin. You can see him thinking. Questioning. His fingers tap against his clothed thigh and your stomach clenches with dread. The last thing you want—the thing that would crush you—is Tyler sizing up whether or not you are worth the trouble of an ex even cockier than he is and more arrogant than you once believed him to be. One thing Tyler and Scott have in common: the adoring attention from young women. You’ve heard the stories from Lilly and Boone, and at any point, Tyler could tip his hat in adieu and return to his many fans to seek the encounters you’ve been hoping to share with him.  

Tyler turns his head to you. “You still like him? At all?”

“No,” you answer, trying not to be offended by the question he has a right to ask. To you, it’s absurd, insulting. To him, it’s covering his bases and understanding what, if anything, he is getting in between by pursuing you, or considering pursuing you. “The way he approaches relationships mimics the way he approaches chasing,” you continue. “Controlling, nit-picky, demanding. I couldn't stand it.” He’s nothing like you, you want to say, but for some reason, don’t.

Your heart’s discomfort eases with the slow spread of a smile across his face. You step toward him. “Look, Tyler, I know we haven’t really talked about us, but I–”

“There you are. I was starting to think I ran you off.”

The intruding voice snatches your attention and Tyler immediately pushes off the wall, positioning himself closer to your side. “I'm not sure you're threatening enough for that,” he says. 

Scott smirks, one eyebrow arching. “And you are?”

“Tyler,” he says, reaching out his hand in a play-nice gesture. “Owens.”

Realization dawns on Scott. “Oh, of course,” he replies, a mocking grin forming as he accepts the handshake. When he takes his hand back, he crosses his arms and cocks his head to the side. “Your reputation precedes you. How many followers have you managed to stack up by playing around for entertainment?”

“Subscribers,” Tyler corrects. “A mil.”

“Must be validating after failing to make it professionally.”

Your gut twists, fists almost clenching, but you restrain yourself from showing his effect on you. “That’s not why he does what he does,” you scold your ex sternly. Tyler’s head whips to you. You can just barely detect the gentle smile on his face. 

Scott hums, nonchalantly advancing closer to hover over you. His eyes penetrate like lasers into yours. “You know, you should really think before you fraternize. You wouldn’t want to make us look bad,” he says, running a knuckle down your cheek. You flinch away from his touch and he grins. “That’s all,” he says. “Good night, you two” And then he turns on his heel and returns from where he came. 

“Charming,” Tyler sarcastically snips. “I see the appeal.”

—

He fucking left you behind. 

You were trying to finish up his job after he failed to properly secure Javi’s tech, but as you were doing so, the tornado’s size grew and its speed picked up and it was headed right for you. Scott screamed at you, panicked in a way you’ve never heard before, but when you weren’t quick enough for his liking, he slammed your door and drove off, leaving you to looming disaster. 

If not for Tyler, you’d be dead. He spotted you in his crew’s attempt to flee, and though it was an insane risk, he came for you, leaping out of his truck and grabbing you as he yelled for Boone to take the wheel. 

He practically threw you into the back seat before crawling in after you and wrapping your shivering body in his arms.

“Tyler, man, I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to outrun it!” Boone called back, eyes darting between the blurry road in front of him and the rearview mirror. 

“Then drill us into the fucking ground!”

And that’s where you stayed, huddled together, your face in his neck as the storm tried to tear you apart. 

—

Are you out of your fucking mind!” Tyler shouts, stomping through the parking lot of the motel refuge. 

To your relief, the small, aged structure was out of the tornado's path, if just barely, and in the aftermath, the owner offered free rooms to those in need. Except for Boone, who holds you steady as Tyler storms off, the Wranglers pass out whatever shirts and food they have available, providing what comfort they can.

Javi inserts himself between Tyler and Scott, his hands up to keep Tyler back. “Woah, woah, calm down.”

“He could’ve fucking killed her!”

Javi’s concerned brow settles from shock. “W-What?” he asks. “What are you talking about?”

Tyler’s as vicious as a lion, his teeth bared, claws out as he tries to side-step Javi to get to Scott, who has backed up a step. “He left her out there!”

You can see the Adam’s apple bob in your ex’s throat. His composure is on edge. He’s never been called out before, not even by you. “She was being stupid.”

“She was doing your job!”

Scott scoffs as Javi blinks, trying to adjust to the rapid-fire information being thrown at him. He’s never been good at an onslaught of facts, needing that adjustment period for things to properly sink in. He’s careful that way. It’s his methodical mind. He takes his time with his planning, and that extends past his inventions. “Look, everyone’s safe. Everyone’s tired. Let’s just get some rest and we can deal with this tomorrow.”

“You’re letting him stay? After what he did?”

“Right now, no one has anywhere to go,” Javi explains, and though true, it doesn’t mean Scott has to remain here now that the threat is gone. Javi’s eyes dart past Tyler’s shoulder to your shaken form. He sighs an exhale that deflates his entire chest, his eyes close, and he shakes his head. He brought this on. He knows it. Scott was a mistake, and while it wasn’t Javi who put you in danger, you don’t mind him absorbing some of the guilt of what happened. “Just…take care of her.”

Tyler huffs and says, “That’s more than you people do,” before turning around and coming for you. Boone passes you off with a nod. Tyler’s arm goes around your body, his hand rubbing up and down your bicep. You wonder where he stored the rage so quickly, but you appreciate that he didn’t set any of it aside for you. After all, you’re the reason he almost died. You’re the reason his friend almost died. Just because it was not a potential consequence of your choices, the stress of near death can keep anyone on edge. But not Tyler, apparently. He has other priorities.

“Come on,” Tyler says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” And he guides you to your room, the very same one you’ve been tempted to invite him to since your first chase together. You didn’t imagine this was how he would come to join you.

—

Tyler’s jaw slackens when you exit the bathroom in a small towel that barely covers your body, and he quickly rises from where he is sitting at the end of your mattress, wiping his palms on his jeans as if to remove the moisture collected there. His eyes go wide, but they can’t seem to meet yours, his green orbs trailing up and down your body. 

“They’re a bit short,” you tell him.

“Yea, I, uh,” His hand runs over his hair down to his neck. “I know,” he says, instantly conjuring the image of a bare Tyler, water droplets covering his skin, a measly towel wrapped around his waist held together by one hand; a hand that, if removed, would cause the towel to drop to the ratty carpeting. “Do you, um…you need anything? I can try to get you–”

“No,” you stop him. “I’m alright.” A beat passes, and then he nods and blows out a breath. “Thank you, for saving me. You didn’t have to risk yourself like that.”

His eyes find yours then. “You can’t possibly think that I wouldn’t.”

“I know you’re kinder than most. Braver than most. But you’re not stupid, and saving me was a bit–”

“Don’t say that. I’d do it again,” he says. When he steps toward you, the towel suddenly feels much smaller. You feel exposed under his gaze, but to your surprise, not embarrassed. Scott had a way of making you feel less than in what seemed like a thousand different ways, but not Tyler. His eyes marvel. “And again.”

You take a deep breath, releasing it slowly out your nose. 

“Are you still shaken up?” Tyler asks you. 

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He stops directly in front of you. “Can I finally kiss you then?”

Your lips part. The towel falls, not necessarily with intention, but you can’t hold the thing up and wrap your arms around his neck at the same time. And, right now, one is more important than the other. 

Tyler tastes like the cola from your fridge that he must’ve had while he waited for you in the shower. His teeth nibble at your bottom lip, and you open for him. His hands settle on your bare waist for what seems like all of two seconds before they’re sliding lower, squeezing flesh, and pulling you in closer. Your fingers pick at the buttons of his shirt, the first few coming free. 

“You sure about this?” is muffled out between kisses.

You pull apart just long enough to say yes before you’re kissing him again, helping him out of his clothes, and falling into bed together. 

—

A knock wakes you. You turn over under Tyler’s arm and, careful not to wake him, rise from the bed. You grab his shirt off the nearby chair and pull it over your head, then slip on some sleep shorts before heading for the door. 

Javi smiles when he sees you, a sense of relief allowing the muscles to release their tension in his body. “Hey,” he says before his eyes fall down to your—Tyler’s—shirt. He raises a brow. 

You shrug. “I like him.”

Javi clicks his tongue. A modest sign of disapproval. “Right, well…I just came by to apologize and let you know that I kicked Scott off the team. He left about an hour ago.”

You hum in acknowledgment. At least you’ll avoid the drama of your ex figuring out you ‘fraternized’ with the leader of the other team. Being storm chasers, dramatics runs through your blood, and it’s not as if Tyler would shy away from any remarks Scott may throw at him or you, but this just happens to be one issue you’d rather not waste the energy on. It’s not his business, anyway.

“Thanks, Javi.”

“I really am sorry,” he says. “I never would’ve imagined he’d–”

“I know. Me either.”

Javi sighs in the silence that follows, then he says, “You sure about Owens?”

You nod. “I’m sure about Owens.”

“I guess we can’t be on opposite sides then, can we?”

“That would be nice,” you say. Javi gives you another smile. “They’re not so bad. I mean, I know they do stuff…differently, but they don’t leave anyone behind.” When a twinge of guilt flashes across his face, you say, “It wasn’t your fault.”

You can’t tell if he believes that’s how you truly feel, but as you nod in reassurance of that statement, he nods with you. 

“Ok,” he says. 

“Ok,” you repeat, and then with one final grin, Javi disappears down the hall. 

You close the door and strip yourself of the clothes you’d thrown on to get back into bed. Tyler’s still asleep. His breathing is soft, even, comforting, and luckily, your spot beside him has maintained its warmth from where you’d been laying all night. 

“I’m sure about you, too,” he suddenly says, voice groggy and eyes remaining closed. He lifts his arm, and you tuck yourself back into his embrace. 

[amirasainz]

Can you write where Yn Alonso is the first time in the paddock and all the drivers meet her. Maybe Fernando is overprotectiv, because Yn is so small?

Please 🙏 🙏 🙏

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Little bear 🐻

Fernando’s hands were a little sweaty as he held the tiny, warm bundle to his chest, stepping out into the bustling, echoing Formula 1 paddock. Today was a big day. His 12-month-old daughter, Yn, was joining him at the track for the first time ever. He had always been hesitant to bring her—concerned about the noise, the cold, the chaos. But today, he felt… ready. Or at least, he hoped so.

Yn, nestled in his arms, was dressed in the most adorable bear onesie, complete with tiny, fuzzy ears on the hood. He had made sure she was extra warm, her cheeks rosy and round beneath the layers. Fernando had even checked her temperature about five times before leaving the hotel, adjusting her hood, pulling up her mittens, and tugging the onesie down to make sure no tiny toes could feel the chill. But as he walked, the little murmurs of other drivers starting to notice her brought a wave of protectiveness over him.

The moment they stepped into the vibrant world of Formula 1, he spotted Carlos approaching. Carlos's face lit up when he saw Yn, and he immediately knelt down to her level.

“¡Hola, pequeña!” Carlos greeted warmly in Spanish, his voice softening to a coo. “You’re so cute! Look at that little bear suit!” Yn giggled, mesmerized by Carlos's animated expressions. He reached out a hand, and she instinctively grabbed it, her tiny fingers wrapping around his finger.

“¡Eres un encanto!” he chuckled, his heart melting at her innocent gaze. “Do you like it here? Your dad’s going to show you all the fast cars soon!”

Fernando watched, a protective eye on Yn as she babbled happily to Carlos. “She likes you,” he admitted with a small smile, though his instinct to be cautious never wavered.

Just then, Charles approached, his own smile broadening when he saw Yn. “Hey, Fernando! Is this your little princess?” he asked, kneeling down next to Carlos.

“Yes, Charles. This is Yn,” Fernando introduced proudly but still a little hesitant.

“Bonjour, Yn!” Charles said, his voice cheerful and melodic. He reached out and gently took her from Fernando’s arms, cradling her securely. “Do you want to take a nap? You look a bit sleepy.”

Yn yawned adorably, and before Fernando could intervene, Charles gently rocked her back and forth, humming a soft tune. Within moments, Yn’s eyelids grew heavy, and she nestled against Charles, who looked at Fernando with a grin.

“She really is precious, Fernando,” he said, his voice low to avoid waking her. “You’re doing great.”

“Thanks, Charles,” Fernando replied, feeling his heart growe ten times for the love he held for his daughter. He watched as the other drivers began to gather, curious about the little girl.

Lewis stepped forward, his trademark smile making an appearance. “Look at that little one! Isn’t she the sweetest?” he said, kneeling down and waving at Yn, who stirred slightly but didn’t wake up.

“Lewis, be careful. She’s still sleeping,” Fernando warned, his protective instincts kicking in again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” Lewis replied, his voice soothing. He reached out and gently stroked Yn cheek, making her eyes flutter open, a radiant smile spreading across her face as she took in the sight of Lewis.

“Dada?” she mumbled sleepily, her little hands reaching out for him, mistaking Lewis for her father.

Fernando chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through him as he saw Yn's delight. “Close enough,” he teased, and Lewis laughed along, his heart warming at the sight of the baby’s big smile.

“Hey there, honey! Want to come play?” Lewis asked, tickling her chin gently. Yn erupted into giggles, her laughter infectious.

Just then, George sauntered over, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the adorable little girl. “Is she trying to eat your hand?” he joked, watching as Yn brought his hand to her mouth, attempting to nibble on George’s fingers like they were the most delicious thing in the world.

“She thinks it’s food!” Fernando laughed, though he quickly moved closer, ensuring George didn’t mind. “Just be careful, George. You might lose a finger.”

“Oh, she’s gentle!” George replied, clearly charmed. “I’d let her eat my hand any day. Right, Yn? You’re my favorite little monster!” he said, making a playful growl that sent Yn into another fit of giggles.

“Don’t encourage her,” Fernando said, shaking his head with a smile. The scene was heartwarming, a perfect moment of joy in the usually intense paddock.

Lando joined the group, his energy palpable. “What’s all this laughter about? I need to be part of it!” he exclaimed, kneeling beside Yn, who immediately beamed at him.

“Hey, little bear! Do you want to see something really funny?” Lando asked, making a silly face and flapping his arms like a bird. Yn laughed uncontrollably, her giggles echoing through the paddock, and Lando kept up his antics, pulling faces that made her laugh even harder.

Fernando couldn’t help but chuckle along, his heart swelling with love and pride as he watched the other drivers showering Yn with affection. Yet, as the sun rose higher in the sky, he felt a pang of worry for her well-being.

“Okay, everyone, as much as she loves this, I think it’s time to head inside,” he said, gently taking Yn from Charles's arms. She whimpered slightly, her face scrunching in disappointment, but he quickly pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Just for a little while, Yn. You can’t be out here all day. Let’s go warm up,” he reassured her, feeling a bit of guilt for cutting short the fun. The drivers all nodded in understanding, their faces still glowing with joy from Yn’s infectious laughter.

“Alright, but we’ll need to have another playdate later!” Carlos promised, ruffling Yn’s head as Fernando carefully walked toward the team building.

“Definitely,” Fernando replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as he entered the warm interior. “I’ll make sure to bring her back. Thank you, guys, for being so wonderful with her.”

As he stepped inside, Yn’s eyes grew heavy again, and she snuggled closer to Fernando. He sighed contentedly, his worries easing a little. Being a father was a new adventure, and today had been a special chapter in their lives — one filled with laughter, joy, and a glimpse into the world of Formula 1, which he hoped Yn would grow to love just as much as he did.

[jedi-starbird]

Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.

like before Bandomeer?

The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.

"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.

Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.

'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.

"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.

"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.

after Naboo?

Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.

Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.

This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.

the Clone Wars?

The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.

Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)

The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.

"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"

"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"

[omgeto]

☆ ONE OF HIS GIRLS — TOJI FUSHIGURO

summary: you were used to your on again, off again routine with your ex. content in being just one of his girls. until things begin to shift and he starts to make you reconsider having a relationship... with all strings attached.

w/c: 3.9k

cw: afab!reader, angst to fluff, exes to fwb to lovers, tojis a bit of a meanie but you’re a meanie too and you both love each other for that. plot with a small dash of smut so mdni!

an: listen to the weeknds “one of the girls” to see the vision. hope you enjoy!

the bass thumps through the air, reverberating in sync with the pulse of the dimly lit club. bodies move in a synchronised chaos on the dance floor, lost in the music and the allure of the night. neon lights paint the room in shades of electric blue and vibrant pink, casting an otherworldly glow on the scene.

amid the crowd, you move with an easy grace, your body swaying to the rhythm as you dance. the atmosphere is charged, and you relish the freedom it offers, the way the music seems to wash away all your worries. tonight, the world belongs to you, and you intend to make the most of it.

but not far away, toji's gaze is fixed on you. his normally composed demeanour replaced with a simmering intensity. he watches as you interact with another guy, laughter shared, bodies drawing closer as you shamelessly grind your ass against him. his fingers clench around his drink, the glass nearly cracking under the pressure of his grip.

toji has always been good at controlling his emotions, an expert at keeping his feelings hidden beneath a mask of indifference. but tonight, seeing you with someone else, it's a different kind of test. the anger that bubbles within him is a stark reminder of the feelings he's been trying to suppress.

as the song changes, the stranger's hand slides lower on your waist, and toji sees red. he downs his drink in one gulp and pushes his way through the crowd, his jaw clenched and his heart pounding in his chest. he reaches you just as the guy's fingers brush against your hip, his presence looming over the scene.

“fuck off” he demands at the guy you were dancing with, towering over the both of you. the guy looks to you for guidance, hoping that you’ll tell toji to fuck himself. but you give the stranger an appreciative smile, knowing that there was no way you could get toji to back down.

“what the fuck was that?” you interrogate toji, as the stranger stalks off.

“what the fuck was that?” toji mocks with a sneer, “what the fuck was this,”  he gestures to your outfit, and throws his arm in the direction of the stranger you were dancing with.

“it’s called having fun toji,” you argue, confused at his outburst, “what are you even doing here anyways?” you’ve barely seen toji since you broke up, and whenever you did see him it wasn’t in public.

“don’t play dumb princess,” he scoffs,, “don’t act like you didn’t know that this was my spot, that you didn’t come here just so i could see you act like a slut,”

“toji i-” technically he wasn’t wrong, you knew this was where he spent most of his time, but he hadn’t even crossed your mind since you didn’t spend time with him, outside of your bedroom.

“i don't wanna hear it.” suddenly he was tugging on your arm, dragging you somewhere. he was pissed. you could tell by the way his veins popped as he gripped onto you. 

“where the fuck are you taking me?” you ask, pulling back defiantly, “i’m not something you can just drag around.” 

“tonight you are.” he practically growls at you, “now move your ass.” 

your night was taking an unexpected turn, this wasn’t something you did with toji – not in public anyways. your relationship was complicated. you dated for a while but you both knew that it wasn’t working, but you just couldn’t let all of each other go. 

so you created a new routine, one where you could ditch your feelings and use one another for what you were good for. if one of you needed each other it was simple. you’d call, fuck, and go straight home. but tonight, he was off, the way he was bodying people through the crowd his hand still firmly placed on your wrist as he drags you along.

the air feels charged with an unspoken challenge, a silent dare to resist him. yet, despite your defiance, there's something thrilling about his possessive hold, about the way he refuses to let you slip away.

he brings you to the bathroom of the club, practically flinging you against the sink,  hiking up your dress and landing a fat smack on your ass. his hand was stretched across your neck, using it to force you to see your face in the mirror in front of you.

his fingers run over your folds, you were already soaked “no panties, you really were planning on being a whore tonight huh.”

“no i-” 

“i’ve let you get away with a lot of shit, y’know that right?” he mutters, spreading your legs wide so he could fit right behind you, he pulls out his dick and rubs it across your wet slit.

“t-toji, someones… gonna see,” you force out, trying to glance at the bathroom door but toji had your head stuck in place, keeping your eyes trained on the mirror.

“and? do you think i fucking care…” he taunts, continuing to tease you with his dick only entering with just the tip, his precum mixing into your pussy, “don’t know why you’re becoming shy now, you were happy to be a slut out there.”

he rams his dick into you, thrusting hard, making sure that you could really feel him. toji was thick, you both knew that, he’d usually stretch you out with his fingers or his tongue before you fuck, but tonight he was merciless. the pain you felt when he entered brought tears in your eyes, you felt dazed, drunk on the dick that was ploughing straight into your pussy. you couldn’t help but fuck him back, throwing your ass back on his dick as he pushes in and out of you. you were desperate. wanting to feel him even deeper than he already was.

“see look at you,” his mouth is at your ear, your eyes meet directly through the mirror, “all fucked out on my dick, and you say you aren’t a slut.”

“I’m not i-” you try and catch your breath but toji hips slam into yours in quick succession, making it hard to gather your thoughts. 

“fuck princess,” he curses, loving the way your cunt clenches around him, “you’re taking me in so well.” 

“Its t-too much toji…” 

“I don’t care. you can take it,” he was too much, stuffing you full. you couldn’t think straight. his relentless fucking had you clenching your eyes shut, holding down on on the sink for dear life. he was practically punishing you, drilling into you with no remorse as he presses his fingers on your clit. “don’t cum until i say so.”

“but toji, ‘m close, im gonna…” you moan, you could feel yourself about to cum, your body trembling as you grind against his dick. 

“this pussy’s mine y’know. i say when you come. i say who gets to fuck you. i-” toji twitches inside of you, cupping your tits as he brings you closer towards him. his cum sprays inside of your walls, with you creaming on his dick. his cum leaks down your thighs, and he thrusts back into you, as if to keep you filled. 

“fuck,” he murmurs, he swiftly pulls out of you, shoving his dick back into his pants, leaving you there a dripping mess. there was something unspoken between the two of you, you were used to fucking rough, but this time was different. the way toji stared at you, treated you, was different. 

“are you just gonna leave?” you interrogate, all worn out as you see him heading to the exit of the bathroom.

“well, you got what you wanted.” he shrugs, “do you need a ride home or somethin?”

“what is with you tonight?” you question, caught off guard by his nonchalance, “what was that?” you couldn’t deny that you were happily fucked but you and toji have been in the same space on many occasions without their being any form of jealous outburst from him.

“don’t try and act like you didn’t come here tonight wanting this outcome,” he chastises, “what did you really expect?”

“i didn’t expect you to do this whole ‘im gonna fuck you in the bahtroom and claim you as mine,’ jealousy act,” you argue, pulling your dress down as you step closer to him, your face inches from his as you whisper, “oh my god, you were jealous.”

“jealous? of what exactly?” he counters defensively, “if i recall correctly, you weren’t even focused on guy, your eyes were looking around the room for me. you wanted me.”

“believe whatever you want toji,” you chuckle, you could see it now, his reaction to the guy you were dancing with, the way he quickly snatched you up to claim you, how his eyes can't even meet yours. “i think you’re just mad that you’ve finally realised that you’re not the only one with options.”

“well go see how those options of yours like you with my cum stuffed inside of you,” he scoffs, smirking at you with his arms folded as he storms at the bathroom, leaving you speechless.

weeks have passed since you’ve last seen toji, you had no desire to see him after his random act of craziness at the club. yes toji was attractive, and he was the best lay you’ve ever had but you did not have the time for a guy trying to control you.

you step into your apartment, the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. It's been a long day, and all you want is to sink into the comfort of your own space. but as you close the door behind you, a sense of unease prickles at the back of your mind. something's off.

there wasn’t much surprise when you see him, lounging casually on your couch as if he owns the place. a mixture of irritation and surprise courses through you as he flashes you a smirk.

"what the hell are you doing here?" you demand, your voice sharper than you intended.

toji looks up, his gaze meeting yours with that familiar intensity. "nice to see you too, princess."

you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "cut the crap, toji. why are you in my apartment?"

he smirks, his lips curling into that infuriatingly arrogant smile. "missed me, did you?"

“missed you? are you kidding me?" you scoff, your irritation boiling over. "you can't just waltz into my place like it's no big deal."

"relax, I'm just here to unwind" toji stretches, his casual demeanour only adding to your irritation, “and you gave me a key remember?”

"for emergencies" you snap, your patience wearing thin, “cut to the chase toji, i've got  plans.”

his mood shifts suddenly, his posture straightening as he steps towards you. “that’s exactly what i wanted to come talk to you about,” his tone grows more serious, “y’know in the past few weeks i’ve heard a few things about you and your ‘plans.’”

“what about them toji?” you were beyond fed up at this point, he’s trying to intimidate you, and you meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down.

“it seems that you forgot what i told you in the bathroom all those weeks ago,” his face came inches closer to yours, his lips just a fraction away from your ear. “your pussy is mine.”

“why do you think you own me all of a sudden?” you snap, slightly shoving him away from you, “what happened to us just being people who occasionally fuck.”

“because you were only fucking me.”

“so what..?” you respond harshly, “in case you forgot you’re fucking half of the city.”

toji's gaze narrows, a hint of annoyance flashing across his eyes. "don't play stupid. you know damn well what I'm talking about."

you cross your arms over your chest, refusing to back down. "and what if I am? what's your problem, toji? we were just having fun, no strings attached."

be takes a step closer, his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space of your apartment. "fun, huh?" he practically sneers, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "is that what you call it? you think I'm just some convenient option for you?"

"convenient?" your voice rises, matching his intensity. "you were the one who suggested this arrangement in the first place."

a bitter smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "yeah, because i knew you couldn't handle anything more than that."

"excuse me?” your eyes narrow, anger coursing through your veins. “just face it, the reason we broke up in the first place is because you have commitment issues. so dont act like some relationship guru.”

“commitment issues, thats rich coming from you,” his jaw clenches, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "i never said I was a guru. but don't act like you're some innocent victim in all of this."

you scoff, disbelief colouring your tone. "victim? I never claimed to be one. i knew what i was getting into, and I was fine with it. until you decided to play the possessive asshole."

toji's gaze darkens, his voice riddled with venom. "oh, so it's my fault now? i'm the asshole?"

"yes!" you practically shout, the frustration and pent-up anger finally boiling over. "you can't just waltz in and out of my life whenever it suits you, toji. i'm not here to satisfy your ego or your control freak tendencies."

he steps closer, his face dangerously close to yours. "you think you can just brush me off? go ahead, try. but you won't be able to. everybody knows you’re mine."

the audacity of his words sends a surge of rage through you. "i am not yours, toji. I am my own person, and I won't be dictated by your whims."

his eyes bore into yours, a storm of conflicting emotions raging within them. "you're playing a dangerous game princess."

"and you're deluding yourself if you think I'll just bend to your will," you retort, your voice unwavering.

toji's jaw clenches, his anger palpable. "fine. if that's how you want it, princess."

without another word, he turns on his heel and storms out of your apartment, leaving you standing there, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and defiance. as the door slams shut behind him, you realise that this confrontation might have just put an end to whatever twisted dynamic you and toji had going on. a conflicted sense of relief washes over you; you're relieved that toji is relinquishing his hold on you. however, a nagging feeling of hope stirs within you, making you question his sudden possessiveness. why does he want you all to himself? it's a thought you can't shake off, and as you ponder it, a whirlwind of uncertainty clouds your mind.

toji, on the other hand, was pissed. how could you not see that he wanted you – granted, he had an obscure way of showing it, but to him, it was clear as day. he had spent weeks grappling with the complexity of his feelings. the memories of your past together haunted him – the way you used to fit perfectly against his chest, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears. he had buried those emotions deep, convincing himself that he was better off without the entanglements of a committed relationship.

you held a special place among the women he’d been with. it wasn't just about the physical connection, although he relished those moments when you shared that intimate space. what set you apart was your qualities – your strong mind, the way you weren't so easily fooled by him, how your eyes would glow when you’d get excited about the smallest things. with the others, there was no desire for him to stay with them after sex – they were disposable. but with you, he basked in the moments where he could lay with you after making love, cherishing the quiet intimacy.

however, after you broke up, you were cold and distant. you mirrored his own detachment, and he couldn’t help but feel used. the connection you once shared seemed to have transformed into something different, leaving him with a sense of emptiness. he found himself questioning whether he had been mistaken all along about what he thought was between you two.

deep inside, a storm raged within toji. he knew he was being unreasonable, that he had no right to demand more from you. after all, he had been the one who initiated this friends-with-benefits arrangement, drawing boundaries to keep emotions at bay. yet, watching you slip away from him, even as he tried to keep you at arm’s length, ignited a turmoil of conflicting emotions – anger, longing, and a fear of facing his own vulnerability.

days turned into weeks, and the void left by toji's absence gnawed at your thoughts. you found yourself replaying your heated exchange, questioning if you had made the right decision. toji's intensity had left an indelible mark, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more beneath his anger.

you finally had chance to be free of him, to try new options – just like you wanted. but they just didn’t hit the same (literally). the guys you’ve been with after toji were alright, they got the job done, but they were all missing something. something you feel that only he could provide for you.

tonight was no different, you lay there in the aftermath of yet another liaison, the room filled with a haze of lingering desire. the guy beside you basked in his post-coital glow, his arm lazily draped across your stomach. you should've been satisfied, content even. but instead, your mind drifted, thoughts consumed by memories of toji – his touch, his gaze, the way he made you feel alive in a way no one else could.

as you slipped out from under the guy's arm and got dressed, his sleepy voice trailed after you. "leaving so soon?"

you offered a vague smile, avoiding eye contact. "yeah, i've got an early morning."

he shrugged, seemingly unbothered, and settled back onto the bed. "alright, see you around."

the cool night air greeted you as you stepped out onto the city streets, your thoughts still dominated by memories of toji. the glow of streetlights illuminated your path as you walked, lost in your own contemplations. the truth was, despite your attempts to find solace in the arms of others, your heart still yearned for toji. the memories of your time together, the electric chemistry you shared, they all refused to fade. you had tried to suppress those feelings, to silence the longing that echoed within you. but as you walked alone through the city, you admitted to yourself that no one else could replace what you had with him.

lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the figure leaning against a nearby wall until you were practically upon him. your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up to meet familiar dark eyes – toji. he looked just as surprised to see you as you were to see him, his usual composure momentarily faltering.

"toji?" you blurted out, unable to contain your shock.

"in the flesh," he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and something else – something you couldn't quite place.

the awkward silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words, a whirlwind of emotions dancing between you. the memories of your last encounter, the heated confrontation that ended in a bitter clash, still lingered in the air. but beneath the surface, there was something more, a connection that time and distance hadn't completely eroded.

"toji, i..." you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words.

he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "i fucked this up."

the honesty in his voice took you by surprise, and for a moment, you were transported back to a time when it was just the two of you, when everything was simpler, and your connection was undeniable.

"it wasn’t all your fault." you admitted, your voice soft.

the tension that had hung in the air seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of understanding. in that moment, it was as if the weeks of distance and confusion melted away, leaving only the truth of your feelings.

"toji..." you began again, your voice steadier this time, "can we talk?"

wrapped in the warmth of the soft blankets, you and toji lay intertwined on the bed. his strong arms held you close, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath your cheek. the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. the world outside seemed to fade away as you basked in the intimacy of the moment.

toji's fingers traced delicate patterns on your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. your fingers traced lazy circles on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing soothing in its familiarity. the silence between you was comfortable, a testament to the unspoken understanding that had grown between you.

"you know," toji's voice broke the quiet, "i never thought we'd end up like this."

you looked up at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "like what?"

he met your gaze, his eyes holding a warmth that made your heart flutter. "like this. together."

a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you nuzzled closer to him. "yeah, well, life has a funny way of surprising us."

toji's lips found yours in a gentle kiss, a tender brush of affection that spoke volumes. as the kiss deepened, the worries and uncertainties of the past seemed to melt away, leaving only the present – the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms.

you pulled away slightly, your foreheads resting together as you looked into his eyes. "you know, for a while there, i thought we were too stubborn to admit what we really wanted."

he grinned, that familiar cocky smile that made your heart skip a beat. "well, you know me – always have to do things my own way."

you rolled your eyes playfully, swatting his chest. "yeah, that's for sure."

toji's fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender and affectionate. "i'm glad we figured it out, though. i don't think i could've let you go again."

a soft sigh escaped your lips, your heart swelling with emotion. "me neither."

the two of you settled back into a comfortable silence, your bodies moulded together as if they were always meant to be this way. as you lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, you realised that the journey to this moment – the ups and downs, the twists and turns – had been worth it. because in the end, you had found your way back to each other, stronger and more connected than ever before. you thought you'd be content just being one of his girls, but now that your his girl again you were completely and utterly satisfied.

and just as your contentment settled in, toji's mischievous smirk tugged at his lips. "now come sit on my face, so I can remind you of what you’ve been missing out on," he whispered playfully.your laughter filled the room as he pulled you on top of him, his hands firmly gripping your hips. "toji!" you exclaimed, both surprised and amused. as your hands pressed against his chest, you couldn't help but revel in the familiarity of his touch. ah how you missed this.