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taintandviolent · 23 days ago

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Tangled ; Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: One lazy summer day, Eddie discovers something new about you when his rings get tangled in your hair.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, established relationship, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), light praise, no use of y/n, hair pulling kink, soft dom Eddie if you squint, fingering, p in v, doggy style.

a/n: this was an anon request! I hope you enjoy, wherever you are! divider by @/strangergraphics!!

fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

It started out innocently. Really. It did.

A warm, summer breeze drifts through the trailer. The two of you sit on his mattress, sheets strewn about, and your bodies snuggled together like the lovebirds you are. Wayne’s out of town, so you’ve been spending as many nights at his house as you can, sleeping in his bed and waking up in his hot, bare arms. You wouldn’t trade that feeling for the world, if anyone offered.

Today, you’re lazily thumbing through a copy of Teen Beat. He’s sloppily sketching out ideas for his next campaign with his left hand, and absent-mindedly, the ringed fingers of his right hand play with strands of your hair, twirling them around his digits. A sudden pain erupts over your scalp, sending a bolt of electricity right to your core. Feeling sudden resistance, Eddie panics, pulling his hand away, which pulls your hair harder. He’s snagged a knot on one of his rings; specifically, the pig.

“Shit-shit-sorr–!”

As he yanks away, you tilt your head back to lean into him, a lewd, high-pitched moan falling from your mouth. So lewd, that Eddie freezes mid-pull, and looks at you, brows high on his forehead. You immediately clap your hand over your mouth, as if that could take it back.

“What… was that?”

“Ummm… I… it hurt.”

He smirks, his full pink lips spreading across his teeth. “That didn’t sound like it hurt, princess.”

In one strong movement, Eddie has you on top of him, straddling him. Like a serpent, his hand slowly slithers up your spine, to the nape of your neck and into your hair. He makes a fist in the soft tresses and tugs softly, not enough to hurt, but enough to elicit another reaction from you.. The reaction is similar; your eyes roll back in your head, and your thighs squeeze his as you try to clamp them together. A desperate little whining sound comes from your mouth, and Eddie, beneath you, is absolutely beaming.

“Someone likes their hair pulled, I see.” He has that dominant, theatric voice he uses in campaigns. Damn him.

You scramble, trying to defend yourself. “I do not! It's just… I was…”

“Uh-huh, you were uh-huh.” He teases and tugs again, a little bit harder than before. This time, you bite your lip, your hands finding and gripping his bare shoulders.

“Eddie, stop…!” You plead, though it sounds as fake as it feels. He’s too smart to believe that.

The look in his pretty, chocolatey brown eyes says everything; he’s not going to let up until you admit it. He grips your hair at the back of your skull, tugging it tight and pulling your head back slightly. Your jaw drops, your eyelids fluttering shut. Between your legs, you can already feel the telltale throbbing, the damp heat accumulating. His voice is low and lusty, something he knows is a weakness of yours. He could get you going just by talking, but when he uses that particular voice… you’re done for.

“Sweetheart, c’mon… look at you. You’re practically coming undone just like this. You know you don’t need to be shy around me…” He pulls again, and you whimper.

“Eddie….” you mewl, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. You feel his free hand tap your jaw a few times, bringing you back to him. He knows that you close your eyes to avoid dealing with things – another way you can’t weasel out.

“Ah-ah. Eyes on me, baby.”

You lock eyes with him, and your resolve crumbles. He’s giving you that look, the one that oozes mischief, playfulness and hunger, the one he gives you right before he pounces on you, tackling you to the bed.

You take a big breath, and say it all in one breath. “Okay, fine, that felt really good and it turned me on. Happy now?”

“Immeasurably.”

Eddie brings your body closer to him, guiding you right to his waiting lips. You’re glad you’re already on your knees, because the kiss that he plants on you is enough to bring you there if you weren’t. It’s loaded with a newfound hunger; he loves finding out things about you. Even though you two have been dating for a few months now, he always thinks you’re like a little puzzle box, spring loaded with secret compartments that hold more untold secrets. The hair pulling was one of them.

“Let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

He drums out a little rhythm on the fullness of your hips, urging you up off him. You flop over backwards onto the bed, onto your elbows, and watch him as he crawls on all fours towards you. As he does, he frees his swelling erection. Only clad in a pair of plaid boxers, he doesn’t have much to shed. Neither do you, for that matter, as you’re in a cute little nightgown and nothing else. Eddie pushes the satin up your thighs, revealing your glistening cunt.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart…. Look at this.” He runs a single finger along your slit, and your body shudders. “Such a mess.”

Though he doesn’t need any help getting himself hard, one hand wraps around his cock, pumping it slowly in and out of his fist as he gazes over your body. There’s something so… domestic about the way you’re looking at him, waiting for him to fuck you. He exhales through his nose, smiling, and leans forward to press a kiss to your bare stomach. His finger ghosts a path down your tummy, all the way to the soft mound between your legs. Gradually, he teases your entrance, spreading your arousal over your folds until you’re coated in it. He brings his thumb down over your clit and traces it in tight circles, pleasuring you until your thighs start to quiver – his favorite thing. Quivering like a scared little bunny in his hands… drives him crazy. You blindly reach for his forearm, feeling for the warm skin. God damn guitar players…. Their stupid nimble fingers….

“Turn around, pretty girl,” he hums.

You’re more than eager to complete his request, flipping over onto all fours. You lower yourself back down onto your elbows and in doing so, stick your ass up for him to admire. Tenderly, Eddie reaches forward to gather all your hair into a ponytail before giving it a firm tug. Your whole body spasms with pleasure; your cunt throbs and your back arches up into a tantalizing curve.

“Fuck,” Eddie grunts from behind you, lining the leaking, flushed tip of his cock up with your waiting slit. The head nudges your folds, twitching against them in anticipation. You brace yourself, taking fistfuls of the sheet below you. “Ready, baby?”

You nod against the mattress.

“Words, princess. We talked about this.”

“Mhm…. please fuck me, Eddie. I wanna’ feel you…”

That’s all he needs. He sinks himself inside of you, until his torso is pressed against the firm curve of your ass. The feeling of his cock is always enough to get you off – it always does. But when Eddie tightens his fist around your ponytail and yanks it hard, you let out a moan that is loud enough to rattle the trailer’s windows. He finds his rhythm easily, rutting his hips furiously against your ass and keeps a firm grip on your hair, almost using it as leverage to pull into you.

“Fuck, fuck… oh my god…. Oh my god, Eddie!!”

He pulls harder, and a melange of pain and pleasure erupts at the crown of your head – you swear you’re seeing stars at this point.

“You like that, baby? Huh?” Eddie asks, breathlessly.

“Yeaaaah…!” A pressure builds above your sopping cunt, feeling white hot. The room is filled with the sounds of skin against skin, and the wet, slick sounds of your cunt as Eddie buries himself inside you. The air is heavy with the scent of sex and you’re breathing it in deeply, each of your breaths laboured and loud.

“Fuck yeah, baby… oh fuck…”

Eddie thrusts hard, burying himself to the hilt and pulls back out, admiring the way your pussy clenches around him like it’s trying to pull him back in. His cock aches, you know it does, because the few seconds spent away from your cunt, you can hear him stroking himself, nudging your entrance with the cockhead. He’s trying not to come. He’s edging himself. Something he only did when he was really worked up.

“I’m gonna’... Eddie, I’m gonna’ come… fuck me.”

Wasting no time, Eddie sheaths himself back inside, and presses his stomach against your back, angling his lips next to your ear. He pulls hard on your hair, and you bend your neck back, screaming out in ecstasy. Hot, erotic tears prick the corners of your eyes as Eddie pulls, fucking into like his life depends on it. When he finally speaks, it’s a hissed whisper, and sends a chill down your spine.

“You like that, huh? My good girl likes her hair pulled, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, yes! GOD! YES!”

Your cunt clenches around him like a vice, warm and slick, as your orgasm washes over you. Eddie feels it – but he doesn’t stop thrusting. He chases his own orgasm, humping you feverishly, and in doing so, pulls another screaming two orgasms from you. He laughs breathily as his thrusts slow, hips rolling against the curve of your ass. You can hear the smile in his laugh, and collapse against the sheet.

“I learn something new about you every day, princess. Every damn day.”

#Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #myfics

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rainrot4me · 7 months ago

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Keep It Rolling

Summary: You and your friend decide to see if you can find ghosts in an abandoned asylum as you record the whole thing. When you run into Hoodie, he thinks it’d be fun to record you instead.

Characters: Hoodie x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Recording sex, bad blowjob, vaginal, threatening with a gun, pussy slapping, size difference, forcing, gagging, stretching, cream pie, size difference

Words: 3.9k

You spent your whole life filming everything.

It didn’t matter what. Eating breakfast, going to the store, hanging with friends, everything was caught on your little camcorder. You had an internet personality to keep up with and feeding your viewers your personal life was a hefty job. But you loved it.

So, of course, when your best friend messaged you about some supposedly haunted mental asylum twenty minutes off the interstate, you had to get it on camera.

The mid-autumn breeze blew through your hair as you and your friend packed your filming equipment into the back of your car, shutting the trunk before climbing into the driver's seat. The asylum wasn’t even an hour away. But as you sped down the interstate, it was like the whole atmosphere had changed. The clouds were dark, the wind blew leaves from the trees, and this ominous darkness loomed around you.

“Where did these rain clouds come from?” Your friend mumbled, scrolling through her phone and checking the weather which didn’t offer many answers. Brushing it off, you turned down an overgrown dirt road off the highway and searched for the building. If it did start raining, there was no way you were getting your camera out of the car. And if there was no camera, there was no reason for you to go inside. But as you drove further, an overgrown sign dangled on the side of the path. ‘State Asylum for the Mentally Insane.’ Charming. It was much farther after that that you could see the run-down building come into view, boarded up windows and patches of wall missing. The decorations of the building had all but disintegrated, but the foundation and skeleton of the building still stood strong minus the crumbling sections of walls. You pulled the car as close to the end of the path as you could before the overgrown plants stopped your path. Shutting the engine off, you sat and stared at the rolling clouds swarming overhead, judging if this was a good idea or not. Obviously, you knew it wasn’t.

“Shit, whole things coming down. Wonder how much longer it's got till it completely crumbles.” Your friends laughed, hopping out of the car and opening the trunk, slinging a bag full of voice recorders over her shoulder. “I hope we don’t find out.” You joked back, sliding to the back and grabbing your camera and backpack full of batteries and hard drives. The wind howled through the building, an eerie whistling noise echoing off the decaying walls that were visible from the outside. If you couldn’t find anything haunted in there, at least you’d get some good aesthetic shots. “I say we make a lap through the building and see if we can find any particular room that feels right to set up in. Y’know, see if it feels haunted.” They laughed, slamming the trunk shut and sauntering towards the entrance, a large dark door with shattered lanterns on either side. You flipped open your camera lens, filming a good shot of your friend shoving the door open and peeking inside. You quickly followed behind, skipping up the steps and peeking inside yourself.

The entrance was dark, furniture and paintings rusted with age and tossed around on the ground. Leaves and cobwebs accented the space, giving just the right amount of old and creepy as you filmed you both entering. The wind howled through the halls as you scanned each room, discovering abandoned medical supplies, facility rooms, and rows and rows of medical beds. All of it was caught on film, the dim lighting giving just the perfect balance with the soft glow of your flashlight. This had to get you views.

When you and your friend finally decided on a spot, a recreation room fit with a stage and tables, you set your audio recorders on the tables, little blinking lights illuminating the room as you pointed the camera. Your friend pulled out their flashlight, laying it on the table and flicking it on. You angled the lens, catching their face in the glow as they began to ask questions, the eerie quietness echoing their voice. “If there are any spirits here who are wishing to make themselves known, please do so now.” Silence. Besides the settling of the old floorboards, there wasn’t a movement or sound to be made. They tried again. “We’re here to do nothing more than talk. Please don’t be afraid to communicate.” Nothing again. You were growing impatient, switching your camera between your friend and the dormant recording devices, no lights signaling activity was being captured. Your friend groaned, holding out for maybe just some noise but ultimately flipping off the flashlight and scooping the recording equipment back into their bag. “Maybe we just picked a bad room. I want to try something though.” You flipped your camera shut, breathing deep and smelling nothing but mould and concrete. “And?”

They shuffled the bag onto their shoulder, shining their flashlight around the disheveled room. “I saw on some ghost channel they split up and went to opposite ends of their hospital and got a lot of activity. Apparently, ghosts like it when you’re alone.” They smiled, shuffling back to the hallway. “Sounds good to me,” It didn’t, but who were you to say no to some good content? “Walk to opposite ends of the building and meet back in thirty minutes?” You both nodded, turning away from each other as you trudged your way to the farthest end of the asylum.

You felt like you had walked forever, stepping down two flights of stairs until you ended up in what you assumed to be the basement. Random trash and unorganized medical equipment littered the floor but it was charming in a way, like the place was a relic of what it used to be. The damp air surrounded you, every step echoing off the concrete walls and recording beautifully as you flipped on your camera. Cobwebs hung in every corner, more afraid of running into one than running into an actual ghost, but content was content.

You set your camera on the ground, shining your flashlight at your face as you crisscrossed in front of the lens. The hall was silent, the dark corners sending chills up your spine as you couldn’t see past where your flashlight glow went. You settled yourself, breathing deeply before calling into the darkness. “If there are any spirits here who would like to communicate, please make yourself known.” Silence. The rhythmic dripping of water from the pipes offered some relief as you listened closely, but ultimately heard nothing. You sighed, trying again. “I am only here to talk. Please make yourself known.” Nothing still. It was relieving, sort of, praying internally that you’d find nothing as you stared into the camera’s lens. Shaking your head, you gave it one final attempt before you’d decide to head back upstairs. “If any spirits wa-”

That was when you heard it. The loud thud echoed from down the dark hallway. Fear shot through you, quickly aiming your flashlight but seeing nothing that could have made the noise. “Hello..?” You called, picking your camera up and directing it the same way. There was no response. But as you went to stand, a very clear sound of someone clearing their throat echoed. You scrambled to your feet, realizing this wasn’t going to be paranormal, but some squatter you’d accidentally run up on. Your hands were shaking but relentlessly keeping the camera trained on the hall, staring intently for any sign of motion. Deciding not to press your luck further, you quietly stepped towards the stairs, barely reaching the railing before you saw it. The tall figure of a man resting his shoulder on the wall beside you and staring straight at you.

A scream bubbled in your throat, panic building before he was on you in a second, his large hands shoving his over your mouth and holding your head still. You gripped your equipment tightly, panicking desperately as you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp. That all stopped as soon as you felt the gunhead press against your ribs, nudging you to be compliant. “One word and I shoot.” He huffed, his deep voice reverberating against the walls. That’s when you could see him in the glow of your flashlight. He wore a ski mask that covered every feature of his face, but had a weird face drawn on. Tears rolled down your cheeks, realizing what a heap of trouble you were in. Whining, the man released your mouth but nudged the gun deeper into your rib, forcing you to the wall behind you. His gruff demeanor shakes you. “Explain yourself. Now.” He commanded, shoving the hilt further up. You panicked, quickly answering. “Uh- My f-friend and I came to see if we c- could find ghosts. I was making, uh, a video.” You cringed, holding the camera up as it was still rolling, capturing everything that had happened so far. The man jerked the camera out of your hand, examining it before tossing it to the floor, a whine escaping you as you watched it skid against the concrete. He leaned in close to your face, his breathing mumbled by the mask. “No ghosts, huh?” He towered over you, his large frame encapsulating you easily. You shook your head awkwardly, gulping as he pulled the gun from your side but quickly repositioned it under your chin, nudging it forcefully. “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m afraid this is as far as you’ll get.” He cocked the trigger, the noise sending a full-blown panic through you as you gripped his arm. “Please! Please- oh, God, I’ll do anything,” You huffed, tears pouring heavily. “Anything you want. Money, your dick sucked, food, anything!” You pleaded, face growing red as you shook with fear.

The man leaned back, pulling his finger off the trigger as he chuckled. “What was that second thing?” He smirked, resting his hand on his hip but not letting that gunhead leave your chin. You blushed roughly, your words betraying you as you just word-vomited something to save yourself. “I said anything.” You huffed, gritting your teeth as you felt the cold metal leave your skin, sighing deeply.

The man holstered his gun in the back of his jeans, sauntering over to your camera on the ground and scooping it up. He wiped it off, flipping the screen open before pointing it at you. You blushed, feeling awkward on the other side of the lens for once. He chuckled, stepping closer to you as he moved the camera to the side, staring at you directly. “Well?” He grinned, focusing his gaze back on the camera screen that captured your red face, the flash accentuating your features. His mask concealed his expression making you unsure if he was being serious or not, but you didn’t want to test those waters knowing full well he had a gun.

You awkwardly knelt in front of him, the concrete wall behind you cramping you. The truth was, you had no clue what you were doing. No boyfriends made their way around to lay you, so whatever you were about to pull out of your ass: your life literally depended on it.

You fiddled with his belt, sliding it open before nervously pulling the zipper of his jeans down. He wasn’t even half-hard in his boxers. You palmed at the bulge awkwardly, glancing up as the camera stared at you, his face peeking behind and watching you closely. Growing in your hand, you tucked your fingers under his boxers and tugged them down, his large cock barely bobbing out. It was awkward, but you took the length in your hands and slowly began to stroke, feeling it harden slowly. This was good. Nervousness pricked at your stomach as you licked at the tip. You slowly pressed the now hard length into your mouth, getting as deep as you could before pulling back. Slobber coated the length, gleaming in the flash of the camera. You leaned back in, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and taking the rest of what you could in your mouth. It wasn’t good and you knew it. Your teeth constantly scraped against his length. Not to mention any time the tip passed your tongue you were gagging back off of it.

He was growing impatient, the half-assed attempt at head making his head hurt. You felt his hand slink up the back of your head and grip a handful of your hair, slowly guiding your head back onto his cock. “Open wide.” He commanded, holding the camera lower to get a good shot. You hung your jaw lower, gripping his jeans quickly as you felt him press into your mouth further than you knew you could take. You gagged, straining to pull your head back but he wouldn’t let you, he just kept pushing your head further. You slammed your eyes shut, tears pricking as you wrapped your lips around the thick cock deep in your mouth. He finally pulled your head back, giving you a second to breathe before you snapped his hips back into your mouth quickly. You whined, throat choking as he thrust your head on his cock quickly. He held your hair tightly as he forced himself down your throat, practically face-fucking you and not giving you a second to adjust.

“Damn, you got a mouth on you, huh?” He huffed, shoving the camera closer to your mouth wrapping around him tightly. You groaned, eyes rolling as you gagged each time his cock pressed against the back of your throat. It was loud and vulgar, the wet sounds echoing off the walls. He refused to let up though, groaning as he held your head back. “There you go. Keep that throat open, sweetheart.” He moaned deeply, pressing your head flush against him but not pulling away. You began to panic, gripping at his jeans as you choked, no air reaching you. He chuckled, cock throbbing in your mouth at the sound of drool gurgling in your throat. He finally pulled you off his length, a loud gasp escaping you as air filled your lungs. He pulled your hair back making you stare at the camera, your flushed face and slobber-covered lips shining brightly against the flash. “God…” He let go of your hair, pumping his cock into his hand before kneeling at your level. “Yeah, I’m not done with you.” He grinned, gripping your legs pulling them out from under you and landing you on your back. He crawled over you, nudging himself between your legs as he tugged at your shirt until it bunched above your bra. He hooked his fingers under the cups, pushing them up and exposing your tits. Hands were on them in a second, massaging and pulling at the mounds.

Your whines echoed as he pinched your nipples, pulling them roughly and kneading the buds in between his fingers. “You’ve got such a nice body sweetheart. I can’t wait to ruin it.” He scaled the camera across your body and shot your curves well. It was incredibly embarrassing.

He pulled his hands off your nipples, leaning back to set the camera on the ground and angle it between your legs, getting a good shot of your crotch. If anything, you were impressed with his familiarity with a camera. But the other half of you cringed as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them off your legs, giving the camera a clear shot of your damp panties. His fingers rubbed at the spot, his thumb pressing roughly against your clit and making you squirm. You reached down quickly, grabbing his wrist. That wasn’t going to happen. He immediately grabbed your wrists in return, pinning your hands above your head and relishing the way your body arched in defiance. “Calm down, huh? Relax…” He grinned, sliding your panties off your hips with his right hand and sliding his fingers up your folds, collecting your arousal. Pressing your legs open, he spread your folds the same, the cold air making your clit twitch. “Such a pretty cunt…” He groaned, spreading your lips and spitting against your hole, making you squirm.

He rubbed his fingers against your entrance, circling the area as you arched your back, silently begging for him to slide them in. That was when you saw his hand reach back and quickly slap down on your cunt, a sharp sting hitting you. You gasped, his hand slapping you again before you could even say anything. His palm continued to connect with your cunt, rubbing the area roughly before bringing his hand back to slap down again. You were a whining mess, every sting and slap making you so much wetter. The squelching sounds your cunt made every time his palm reached was embarrassing, your moans mixing and creating an insanely lewd noise. “God! Please…” You whined, squeezing your knees closer and trapping his hand against your cunt. He chuckled, giving in and pressing his fingers into your soaked entrance, a loud squelch echoing. You groaned, his fingers reaching deeply inside of you and curling just the right way. When he began to pump his fingers, it was all you could do not to scream your pleasure. Your throbbing clit ached as his fingers curled against your walls, each curl causing them to clench down. His thick fingers worked you open, your squirming body being easily held down by his muscled arms. Your orgasm came incredibly fast, your walls tightening around his fingers as they stretched your entrance wide and became soaked with your ecstasy.

He pulled his fingers out sharply and brought them to the hem of his mask as he slid it up just above his nose. He licked his fingers of your arousal, smiling at you as he took them down to the knuckle. Your eyes frantically glanced at the camera lens, the flash blinding you as you begged the battery would magically die and none of this would be recorded. No luck. “Damn sweetheart, you think that cunt’s ready for me yet?” He grinned, pulling his mask back down and wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling you quickly to rest your thighs on top of his. His cock was twitching and angry, the head pulsing as he pumped it in his hands. He let it rest on your tummy. You glance down, head spinning as you realize just how big he is. “Oh, I’m gonna be in there.” He chuckled, releasing your wrists to scoop his hands under your hips and angle them up. He nudged the head of his cock against your entrance, leaning down to meet his face with your as he breathed deeply. “Try to not scream, yeah?”

Before you could question why, he slammed your hips down onto his length. The rough stretch and sting of him entering you so abruptly made you cry out, tears leaking down your cheeks. He didn’t wait. Either because he couldn’t or because he didn’t care. His hips snapped into you quickly, fingers digging into your bare hips as he forced your hips to connect with his. “Shit-” He was grunting with every thrust, heavily breathing behind the mask. Your moans and cries matched his, every nudge of his cock against your walls making your back arch and jaw hang open. It was dizzying. He was perched on his knees, holding your hips off the ground and fucking into you like some fleshlight.

Every tug at his hands and pull at his jacket went unnoticed as you clawed against him, trying your hardest to find some stability as your body was being rammed against. Your cunt throbbed with every squelch and slap, your walls constricting around the thick length invading inside of you. The camera caught it all, angled perfectly to see every inch of his cock sink into your cunt as he thrust quickly. It caught every lewd moan, every slap of skin. The tears were rolling down your cheeks, the sting and stretch of him mixing with the absolute pleasure slamming into you. “Fuck, so tight. Gonna milk me dry, sweetheart.” He huffed, repositioning for a split second before angling his hips up to ram into your g-spot. You screamed out, hand reaching for your clit as you rubbed in pace with his thrusts up into you.

That’s when he grabbed the camera, angling it down directly at your cunt as he sunk into you quickly. “Cum on my cock. Yeah, let me see it.” He moaned, shoving your hand out of the way to press his own fingers against your clit, rubbing quick and rough. You slapped your hands over your face, eyes rolling as you felt your orgasm rushing against you. The masked man was moaning louder, little whines escaping his lips as his own pace became sloppy. “Cum all over me, sweetheart.” He groaned. It sent you over, waves of pleasure crashing into you quickly as he refused to let off of your clit. You screamed out, arching your back against his fingers as he rubbed your orgasm out. Walls around his cock constricted, milking him as he held the camera close, the flash catching every drop of sweat and arousal that mixed on you. He bottomed out against you, moaning loudly as he released deep into your cunt.

The room went quiet apart from your panting. The camera caught it all, each pulse of his cock as he filled you full, your hands gripping tightly against his wrist as he held his thumb over your clit. He slowly pulled out, hissing as you felt the stretch of him. When his head popped out, he moved the camera down, catching every second as his seed leaked out of you. “Did so good sweetheart. Took me so good.” He huffed, sliding his fingers through your folds and spreading his release across your cunt, making you squirm. He pressed his fingers into your swallowed entrance, pressing his seed back in. When he pulled them out, he flipped the camera shut, turning the flash off and setting it back on the ground.

Finding your panties, he slid them back on you and relished as he watched them soak darker. He helped you button your pants back, pulling your shirt down and helping you stand. Handing you the camera, he laughed at your hazy expression, your heavy eyes and swollen cheeks evident of your fucked out cunt. “Thanks, sweetheart, now run along before I change my mind.” He huffed, turning back to the dark hallway and waving you off. “Good luck with your ghosts.” You nodded, frantically turning back to the steps and rushing up to the fresh air. It hadn’t been long, but as you listened closely and heard the sound of heavy rain, you trudged to the other side of the asylum and found your friend just as hopeless as you left them.

“Did you find anything? I had a whole lot of nothing.” They sighed, leading you to the entrance and out to the car as you tried to hide your equipment from the rain. “Nah. Nothing interesting.” You sighed, climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off back down the dirt path.

When you eventually made it home, you sprinted to your laptop and shoved the SD card in, loading up the video. Your hand covered your mouth as you watched the scene unfold, arousal growing in your pants again as you felt the leak of the masked man’s seed against your folds.

The video played through, every squelch and moan sending shivers through you as your hand slid down between your legs, rubbing lazily as you rewatched his cock sink inside of you.

You’d have to go ghost hunting more often.

Comments are reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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ironwinters · 2 months ago

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"Oops?"

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

tags: smutty blurb, no plot, bucky spooking himself, comfort, fluff and giggles

inspired by that scene in breaking dawn where edward breaks the bed when they fuck. strength kink go brrrrr.

Moonlight and a soft summer breeze makes its way through the open bedroom window, illuminating the room and the skin of your intertwined bodies tangled in the bedsheets.

All that could be heard is the sound of soft moans and skin slapping together. Your back arches to press yourself impossibly closer to the man on top of you, a breathless moan escaping your lips as his thrusts become deeper and more powerful with each thrust, his hand moving from its place on your hip to brace himself with the headboard.

"please," you plead, not even sure of what you're begging him for. you're so close to the edge, and you know you just need one little nudge to get you there.

"god, doll, so good for me," he mutters out, lips brushing against your throat with each word he speaks, warm breath fanning over you.

at the praise, a soft whine escapes your throat, legs tightening around his hips as the knot in your stomach uncoils. the feeling of you releasing around him is Bucky's undoing as well, his hips stuttering to a stop against yours as close as he can be. A deep groan leaves his lips, the grip of his flesh hand tightening slightly on your hip and his other hand grips the headboard.

Crack.

The loud noise of wood snapping quickly pulls you out of your post orgasm haze, eyes trailing up to Bucky's hold on your now broken headboard. You blink owlishly, feeling like your brain is about to short circuit. You knew, of course Bucky was incredibly strong, he's a super soldier. But it was easy to forget, because of how in control of himself he always was around you.

You made him lose that control a little bit. And damn if it wasn't more attractive than it should've been.

Bucky looks bashful, blush rising to his cheeks and ears as he slowly releases the crumbling headboard from his hold.

"Oops?" he mutters.

You grab his face, pulling him into a searing kiss in hopes for a second round.

Bless super soldier stamina.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic

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stargazsblog · 1 month ago

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how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.1 the bet

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.

ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.

ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

note: hi guys! this is the first chapter and I'm so excited this is just about how the bet starts nothing crazyyyy YET… i can’t wait to write more! merry christmas!! <3

masterlist

“I still don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” you muttered, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. The muffled thump of bass from inside the house was enough to make your ears ring, even from a distance. The faint smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer mixed with the crisp winter breeze, making you wrinkle your nose.

“Because,” Shoko said, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Deep down, you know you’ll have fun if you let yourself.” she grinned at you.

You side-eye her, “Have fun?, this is a party of drunk idiots I have to pretend I like.”

“Don't be dramatic.” Shoko rolled her eyes, patting your shoulder as she let you go. ”You spend too much time brooding alone in your dorm, anyway.”

“I call it peace,” you shot back, but Shoko was already halfway up the stairs.

The door swung open before either of you could reach it. A group of boys tumbled out, laughing and shouting, nearly knocking you over in the process. You stepped aside just in time, muttering a curse under your breath

The heat of the crowded house hit you immediately. The air was thick, almost suffocating, with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and overly sweet perfume. Bodies pressed together as people danced to the relentless beat of the music.

“Come on, let's get a drink,” she said, grabbing your wrist and leading you towards the kitchen. You stuck close to her, pushing past people in the crowd and avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

“This is a disaster,” you muttered as you reached the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Shoko handed you a bottle of water before pouring herself something that smelled suspiciously strong.

“It's just a party,” she replied.

As she took a sip, she leaned against the counter, her eyes scanning the room again. “There he is,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Your gaze followed hers, landing on a familiar figure sprawled out on the couch in the corner of the living room. Ryomen Sukuna.

He was sitting on the couch like he owned the place, his long legs stretched out, one arm casually draped over the back of the sofa. He was wearing a white shirt, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at the toned muscles underneath. His eyes scanned the room with practiced boredom, like none of it was worth his time.

A girl was sitting on his lap, twirling her hair around her finger and giggling as if he’d just told her the funniest joke in the world. She leaned closer, whispering something in his ear, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, his gaze drifted and then locked onto yours.

He grinned, a slow, cocky smirk that made something in your chest tighten not with attraction, but with irritation. It was the kind of grin that said he knew exactly the effect he had on people and loved to watch them crumble under it. He tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Caught you staring

As you looked away, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. But you didn’t turn back. You weren’t interested.

“Great,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your water bottle. “Now I have to burn this memory from my brain.”

Shoko laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Oh, come on. You’ve got to admit, he’s hot.”

“He’s insufferable.”

“Hot and insufferable. The best combination.”

“I’ll leave right now.” you turned heel, but Shoko grabbed your arm, stopping you from your track.

“Relax, I’m just teasing you.”

Your jaw tightened, but you stayed put, watching as Sukuna leaned back even further, his eyes still fixed on you. The girl on his lap pouted, clearly annoyed at his lack of attention, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I hate him,” you muttered under your breath. The words came out bitter, but they were true. “Did I mention that before?”

“Yeah, like hundreds of times,” She replied, laughing “You really hate him, huh?”

“I just don’t get how people fall for his act,” you said.

Shoko shrugged. “Like I said, he’s hot. People like hot.”

“Hot doesn’t excuse being an asshole,” you murmured, crossing your arms. “What’s his deal, anyway? Does he just sit there all night waiting for people to grovel at his feet?”

“Pretty much,” Shoko said with a shrug. “But he’s good at it. Watch.”

As if on cue, another girl approached him, drink in hand. She leaned down, her lips close to his ear as she said something you couldn’t hear. Sukuna smirked, his attention finally shifting away from you, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“See? he’s harmless,” Shoko said.

“Harmless,” you repeated, your voice with sarcasm. “Sure.”

“You know, you’re the only one who doesn’t fall for his charm.”

“Good,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I’m not about to start. I don’t need someone like him in my life.”

“You gonna keep her there all night?” Suguru asked, nodding towards the girl on Sukuna’s lap.

Sukuna smirked tilting his head back. “why not? She's comfortable here.” the girl giggled again, clearly tipsy, but Sukuna's attention has already wandered. His eyes scanned the room lazily, taking in the usual suspect, drunk athletes, and the occasional out-of-place loner. Until it landed on you.

You stood in the kitchen, keeping your distance from the chaos, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed. Your eyes roamed over the room, observing, until they met his. He caught you looking, and a smirk tugged at his lips. When you quickly looked away, he let out a low chuckle.

His friends noticed this.

“You’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes, what’s the deal?” Geto voice cut thought Sukuna’s thoughts, and he glanced over at his friend.

“I’m not staring,” Sukuna retorted smoothly, his tone laced with nonchalance as he effortlessly lifted the girl off his lap. She let out an irritated groan, before stalking off in a huff. “Just observing,”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Geto teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve seen the way you're staring at her, that’s not the ‘I’m observing’ look you usually give what’s going on with you.”

Sukuna’s gaze flickered to you once more. “She’s different,” He had noticed you around campus—the way you never spared him a second glance when you passed by, completely unaffected by his presence. Once, he’d even tried to strike up a conversation, but you had brushed past him without so much as acknowledging him, as though he were invisible.

Gojo chuckled “Different? Dude, that girl is the only one who doesn’t drool over you.”

Sukuna’s lip curled into a sly grin. “So what?”

“So,” Suguru continues, crossing his arms, leaning against the couch. “you’ve never met a girl who doesn’t fall for your charm, right? You’ve been with everyone but her? she couldn’t care less.”

Gojo snorted. “And she’s probably the only one on campus. That’s gotta sting.”

Sukuna scoffed, leaning forward slightly. “Please. She is probably playing hard to get.”

Geto exchanged a glance with Gojo, and then a mischievous grunt flashed his eyes. “All alright, how about we make this interesting? We give you ten days.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, “Ten days?’

“Yeah,” he said with a sly smile “Ten days you make her fall in love with you.”

Sukana let out a short laugh, but the challenge already sounded fun to him. He never was the type to back down from a game. “You think I need ten days?”

Suguru shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “It’d be easier if it were any other girl. But this one… she’s too—what’s the word? Stubborn. Definitely not into guys like you,” he said, “She won’t be an easy win. That’s what makes it interesting, though.”

Satoru chimes in “Yeah, man. You can’t just use your looks and charm this time. You’re gonna have to actually work for it.”

Sukana's eyes flicked back to you for a split second. You were standing there unaware of the conversation that was happening a few feet away from you. “Ten days huh?” he murmured.

“Ten days” Gojo repeated. “And if you fail you lose. It's as simple as that.”

His expression turned darker, the idea of him not winning seemed unthinkable. He wasn’t just going to prove them wrong he was going to show them that no one could resist him.

Gojo leaned back, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, and one more thing,” he added, glancing at Sukuna. “You can't be seen with other girls. It’s gotta look real, after all.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted slightly, an eyebrow raised in silent challenge. “You think I need rules to make this work?” he asked.

Geto gave a small nod. “It’s just to make sure no one gets suspicious. You’ll need to actually put in the effort.”

Sukuna smirked, unfazed. “Fine. I’ll play by your rules, but don’t expect me to go easy on her.”

Ten days to make you fall for him. The girl who wouldn’t give him the time of the day. The girl who didn’t care about his reputation. The girl who has no idea what was coming for her.

Unknowingly, you had already been pulled into his game.

“You think his shirt could be any tighter,” Shoko muttered, nodding towards a guy who was flexing across the room.

You snorted. “Pretty sure it's painted on.” leaning against the kitchen counter. Shoko grinned at your words, sipping from her cup.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, you leaned against the counter sipping on your water. Shoko perched on the edge of the sink, swinging her legs as she talked. You were nodding and listening to the story she was telling you. You hear a group of people walking in the kitchen, their laughter loud and careless. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. The weight of his presence pressed into the room like a rebound heartbeat. Ryomen Sukuna.

His graze swept the kitchen, it lingered on you for a moment too long, and a smirk appeared on his face.

“Shoko,” one of his friends called out, his tone playful, but almost teasing. “Come help us with something. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and them. “Fun, huh? i doubt it.”

“It’s better than being stuck in here,” another white-haired friend chimed in.

She rolled her eyes but slid off the counter anyway, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she said with a wink before following them out of the kitchen. And then, it was just you and him.

Great.

Sukuna didn't say anything, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, as he leaned against the counter across from you.

“Guess it’s just us now,” he said finally his voice low and smooth.

You didn't look up, keeping your focus on your drink “Lucky me,” you replied, your tone dry.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and deep. “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

When you finally glanced up, he was much closer than you’d expected. His tall frame leaned casually against the counter opposite you. Up close, the details of his features were almost overwhelming—the sharp line of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips that formed an infuriatingly smug smirk, and the mess of his hair falling carelessly over his forehead. You couldn’t deny it, no matter how much you wanted to. He was hot—like, really hot.

“You’re not exactly the first guy to try this,” you said coolly, taking another sip from your drink, your gaze steady as you met his.

Sukuna tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Try what?” he asked.

“Whatever you’re doing right now,” you replied, “the whole brooding, mysterious thing. It’s not as original as you think.”

He laughed at that, his head tilting back just enough to expose the line of his throat. It wasn’t often that people spoke to him like this, you realized. Most would have thrown themselves at him.

“You’re sharp,” he said, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. The scent of him hits you. “I like that,” he added, his voice low, a hint of approval in his tone as his gaze lingered on you.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by him. “And I don’t care.”

He paused not being he was offended, but because he wasn’t used to being dismissed, even by someone who didn't so much flinch under his gaze.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “Most people would kill to be in your position right now,” his tone quieter now, almost intimate, as his eyes locked onto yours.

You smirked, setting your drink on the counter behind you. “Then maybe you should go find ‘most people,’” you replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.”

The silence hung in the air. Sukuna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, then slowly, his gaze dipped to your lips. The smirk on his face faltered just slightly as if he was plotting something in his mind, before it returned—sharper, more amused.

“You’re different,” he murmured finally, his voice low, the words lingering in the air as his gaze stayed fixed on your lips, the tension between you growing with each passing second.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked.

“Take it however you want,” he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, his gaze still lingering on your lips as if he was waiting for your next move.

His gaze made it hard to look away. But you forced yourself to break the connection, turning your focus elsewhere. You weren’t sure what Sukuna was trying to do—charm you, challenge you, or maybe a little of both.

“I’m not interested in you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, your tone firm, making sure he knew you weren’t fazed by his presence.

He tilted his head, his smirk fading for a moment. He just looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours as if he were trying to read you.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice low and confident, before turning and walking out.

You let out a slow breath, the heat of his presence lingering in the air. Sukuna wasn’t used to being ignored, and for him, that only made you more of a challenge.

But you weren’t here to play his game.

At least, that’s what you thought.

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painted-flag · 2 months ago

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A VICTOR, part three (final) - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: 18+ descriptions of violence and smut (fingering, pinv, slight biting kink and nipple play, possessive behaviour) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

It had been a long, excruciating week. You had managed to avoid Commodus in that time. Attius was still insistent that you complete your duties despite the injuries, but you had managed to do them all in the lower levels of the palace. In the few instances where you needed to get work done in areas Commodus could be, you chose to do them very late into the night.

There was not a word you could use to express the heartache you had felt at that time. It is funny that a person could be stamped so permanently onto your ribcage in such a short time of knowing them, but the emperor was a man you would never forget.

In your dreams, you could still feel the touch of his calloused hands and the warmth that only he could provide – no other form of warmth like fire or the sun could compare or compete.

The swelling in your face was gone, but you still sported a cut lip and the bruises were still prominent. Each night, you would go to Cassius to get a poultice to put on your wounds, which soothed the skin and removed some of the aching pain.

While you had been smart in dodging Commodus and staying on the lower levels of the castle, you had to fetch rosemary from the gardens and it could not wait until night. So you found yourself, in the heat of midday, picking some rosemary in a secluded area of the palace gardens.

It was calm, with a gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You held a woven basket with the handle tucked into your bent arm. With a small knife, you would cut off bundles of rosemary that looked ready to harvest and placed them in the basket. The motions were soft and serene and you found some peace with it.

Footsteps alerted you to a presence behind you. You wanted to turn, but at the sound of their voice, you knew who it was and could not afford to face them.

“You are not sick,” Commodus spoke from behind you, his tone full of contempt.

You stopped your current task but still refused to turn around. Keeping your back to him was incredibly disrespectful, but you feared what he would do if he saw the markings on your face. How quickly would he cast you aside?

“I have… recovered quickly.” You excused. Commodus scoffed from behind you and stepped closer. He was only a pace or two away from you and his close proximity had your knees weak and resolve crumbling.

“You were never sick. I am not stupid…” His tone then switched to something that sounded almost insecure, “Have I done something to incur your indifference? Why do you avoid me? Whatever it was, name it and I shall work towards absolution. Shout it at me, insult me even, I give you permission for that. So long as you speak, so long as I can hear you talk because I have learnt that nothing… nothing hurts more than the absence of you.”

His small speech could have knocked you off your feet. It sent your mind reeling. A strong urge to drop your basket and fling yourself into his arms washed over your body. How much you dearly missed the comfort of his embrace. He sounded vulnerable, not something you ever thought would come out of his mouth.

“It is not you, Caesar.” You hoped the honorific title would make him display more mercy toward you, but you failed to notice the depths of his devotion that had built up long before he invited you to his chamber so many nights ago.

“Commodus.” He corrected what you addressed him as, “You of all people do not need to call me that. What is it that burdens you so?” He questioned.

You knew there was no point in trying to keep it hidden. Your clothing thankfully covered most of the bruises, except for the one on your face. Slowly, while looking at the stone ground, you turned to face him. Your face raised and made eye contact with him, finding some solace in the green of his eyes. His look of desperation for your attention quickly morphed into simmering rage. You could see the bump in his throat move as he swallowed and his jaw set.

He took the final step to get closer to you. Commodus raised his hand and hovered it right over your bruise, eyes scanning it over and over as if it was not real.

“Who?” His voice was oddly calm. It was as if his mind had shut down, unable to fully process what he was seeing.

“I am fine and–”

“Who did this?” Commodus interrupted. He gently traced over the bruise with the tip of his fingers, mapping the way it marred your face.

“I have neglected my duties as of late. Master Attius did only what was necessary.” You tried to reason. His nostrils flared at your words.

“It was him that did this to you?” You wanted to answer, but there was a sob that threatened to claw its way through your throat. You did not wish to cry in front of him, but the stress of everything had hit you. He saw the tears that welled in your eyes and pulled you in for a hug. However, his sudden touch on your arms caused you to flinch.

Commodus looked down immediately, grabbed your wrist, and pulled up the sleeve of your dress to see the bruises that littered your forearm and disappeared under the top of the fabric. His breath became laboured.

“Nothing must go unpunished, he told me.” You bit your lip to hold the sobs back. Commodus let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, letting the warm breeze hit your bodies.

He eventually moved, lifting his head and planting a kiss on your hairline. His hands reached up and rubbed your shoulders gently, trying to provide comfort while also not wanting to make your pain worse.

“You are not to do any more work today. Go to my room and wait there.” He instructed you.

“Wait for what?” You asked. He did not answer you, only giving your temple one last chaste kiss before he turned around and left the garden. You could hear his harsh footfalls as he got further away and you were scared at what he was capable of.

Commodus was angry and that was dangerous. You worried about what his wrath meant for anyone in the palace. Yet, you could do nothing but stand there as he left, bracing for the coming aftermath of whatever he had planned.

You swore that you would wear down the marble flooring in Commodus’ room. For the last few hours, you had paced back and forth. Sometimes you would sit in a chair for a few moments before becoming restless again and resuming your short march. There had been no word from Commodus or anyone as to what was going on.

You surmised that was the best outcome. He had not gone on a rampage and caused chaos, which was good. It had only struck you recently that perhaps you had been terribly stupid this whole time. The way he looked at you in the gardens and his vulnerability at thinking he had done something wrong to you. There you came to understand the depths of the situation and that the feelings you held are in some capacity reciprocated.

That was why you paced so relentlessly. He harboured feelings for you, which in itself felt surreal. You were nothing and would remain nothing, but somehow that was enough to catch his attention. Had it been that festival you sang at so many years ago? Was it that moment when the fates decide to entwin both of your paths?

The door on the other side of the room opened and you stopped pacing. You stood still, hoping to see Commodus. It was hard to conceal your disappointment when another man walked through the doors. He was old and hunched over slightly, but his face appeared kind. He carried a bag with him and set it down on one of the tables.

“Excuse my brash words, but where is the emperor?” You questioned.

The old man smiled and began to take items out of his bag; vials and bandages, “The emperor has not been in the palace for hours, my lady.”

“I am not a lady,” You spoke.

“I have been instructed by the Caesar to look over his lady that awaits in this room. I am correct in assuming that is you?” He teased you slightly and you felt a little more relaxed around him. You approached the table and looked down at the healing supplies he had laid out.

“Yes, uh, that would be me.” You shrugged. You did not want to question why Commodus had referred to you as his lady but knew it was not something to take lightly. Whatever he said goes and there was no reversing those words. The more you thought of it, the more it warmed your heart.

“Well, I am Cosmo, fair lady. Might I check over your injuries?” He questioned.

You nodded with permission and he moved towards you. While he tended to your wounds, all you could think about was Commodus; where he was and what he was doing. He was not in the palace and Rome was a large city. A sinking feeling of worry and dread washed over you.

After you had been tended to, more servants came in to bring you new attire. The dress you wore was nothing you had ever come close to having. The tunica, stolla, and palla all matched with the vibrancy of orange and black. Commodus had picked it out for you and you could not help but wonder if he chose it because it was similar in colour to your favourite animal, the tiger.

When you had gotten ready, guards escorted you to a waiting carriage. Each time you tried to ask what was happening, you only got the same short response; Caesar awaits you. By now, slight fear had entered your heart. He had been gone that whole day and the last you saw of him was when he became consumed by rage. Had he hurt others? Had he hurt himself?

The large imposing figure of the Colosseum entered your vision as the carriage approached. There were not many times in your life when you had time to visit, but each memory had been ingrained in your mind. The sun was setting and cast the stone in a delicate golden light. The heat of the day waned and you became grateful for the clothing wrapped around you to shield you from the occasional cool breeze.

You do not remember there being a gladiatorial game scheduled for that day and your suspicions got worse as you were led out of the carriage and into the Colosseum. There was no shouting, no screaming, or bounds of cheer. Nothing but silence greeted you as you walked up some stairs and found yourself at the cloth-covered entrance to the emperor's viewing box.

The guards escorting you grabbed the silk curtains and pulled them away, allowing you to enter alone. The viewing box was grand, filled with seats for the senators. A large stone chair, like a throne, was placed up front in the centre. There, leaning against the stone railing, was Commodus. He had his back to you, but you could see he wore a regal outfit of black armour with silver and gold accents. A gold laurel crown rested over his touseled dark locks.

Your heartbeat picked up at the sight.

“Commodus?” You questioned. At the sound of your voice, he turned around and smiled. He raised both of his arms like one would do to welcome someone with a hug.

“Ah, you’re finally here,” He approached you and placed one hand gently over the healing bruise on your face, “How are you?” His other hand rested on your waist to pull you closer. A flush fell over your body.

“The healer says I am doing well. There are no complications.” You answered. You had no idea what to do with your arms, so you pressed the palms of your hands against the chestpiece he wore, feeling the bends and grooves of the detailed pattern and the coolness of the metal.

“And how is your mind?” His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheek.

“I am alright. It hurt for a while… everything is fine now.” You reassured him. During your week of avoiding him, you had missed his comfort dearly. While he had originally gone to you for solace, you became attached to him and learned that you wished to lean on him as well.

“Not quite, darling.” Commodus took your arm and guided you to the big throne. He sat down comfortably. While you looked around for a chair next to him, he pulled you down so you sat on his lap. The movement was abrupt but sent heat through your body.

“Nothing can go back to normal until you see justice for the crimes you have suffered,” Commodus wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you securely in his lap. The armour he wore was almost cold, but his presence provided a warmth that erased that feeling.

“Attius was well within his rights to punish me and–”

Commodus grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. There was a quiet rage within his eyes, though not directed at you.

“I’ll not have you speak like that, do you hear me?” He told you. You nodded which made him smile and leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Good. Now, I have prepared a show for you.”

“A show?” You questioned.

“More like a trial,” He motioned with his hands to a set of guards standing within the arena. They began to march towards one of the entrances and he continued to speak, “I will not have my lady wronged. Nothing must go unpunished.” That phrase clicked in your head, the one that Attius had used against you. At that moment, you understood what was happening.

The doors to one of the entrances opened and out came the person you were expecting. Your master, Attius, had his hands bound by shackles in front of him. He was led in by multiple guards, crossing the sandy terrain. You sucked in a breath when they got closer and you could get a better look at him. He was dressed in rags, but his arms and the lower half of his legs were exposed, showing the gnarly bruises that littered his skin. Splotches of blood, some aged more than others, consumed the brown cotton he wore.

What shocked you the most was the bruise on his face that was almost an exact copy of the one he gave you.

Commodus chuckled lightly to himself when Attius almost stumbled over. You now understood where he was for those hours of not being at the palace. While undeniably barbaric, something about his protective nature and thirst for vengeance on your part was, in a twisted way, attractive. When Attius got within speaking distance, Commodus tightened his hold on you as if to assure himself you would no longer get hurt.

“You have committed an egregious crime,” Commodus spoke. Your hands placed over his that rested on your stomach and began to carefully thread your fingers through his. He had gotten tense and you were doing what you could to calm him down, if only slightly.

“Caesar, please! Mercy! Show me mercy!” Attius was shoved down to his knees by the guards, kicking up some of the sand.

“Mercy from me? No, it is not me that you wronged,” Commodus turned to you, his face of indifference and hate towards Attius morphing into adoration for you, “My lady, do you grant him mercy?”

For a moment, you wanted to. You may have many weeks ago, but lately, you had come to understand that violence was often necessary; all thanks to Commodus’ guidance. You thought of everything Attius did towards your fellow servants over the years. Each indignity, each strike, each time he would show no clemency.

You wanted him to feel that fear.

“No mercy,” You answered. Commodus smiled at you and his eyes twinkled with something akin to excitement. He surged forward to capture you in a heated kiss. You matched the fervour, pushing back and feeling the softness of his lips against yours. He hummed with satisfaction, tasting the fruit you had eaten a while ago on your lips.

He pulled away and whispered, “You’re perfect,” He then turned to face Attius again, losing all sense of warmth in his gaze, “It is, with my fair judgement, deemed that the offended parties will fight until death.” Your brows furrowed at his words. He did not mean that you would fight, right?

Attius looked just as confused as you, “Caesar, surely I will not fight her?”

“Of course not,” Commodus scoffed as if the mere notion was the worst idea ever proposed, “No, you will not be fighting my lady. Moreover, my lady’s favourite animal shall fight for her.”

While Attius was still perplexed, your face dropped. You looked around the arena, suddenly aware of a looming threat. Commodus would not, would he? But then again, this kind of violence was in his nature. You understood why he picked out your outfit for that night, how the colours matched that of a tiger. The same animal he had seen you weaving into the pattern of a carpet.

Suddenly, growling could be heard, looming ever closer. With a loud thundering snap, a section of the ground was pulled back quickly. There was no time to spare as a tiger, large and snarling, lept out from the depths. A chain was linked to a collar on its neck but did little to disrupt its movements.

Your eyes were glued to the scene, stuck in a state of both stupor and intrigue. Commodus was smiling madly and he rested his chin on your shoulder. You revelled in his warmth while you watched Attius fail to fight back with nothing but a short sword.

The fight did not last long. Even if he was not beaten and frail, there was no winning against the ravenous beast. It lunged and sunk its teeth into his side. You could see the tiger's jaw clench down and elicit screams of pain from Attius’ mouth. When he fell, the tiger took it as an advantage and aimed for his throat, cutting off his wails. As the beast fed, Commodus leaned back in his throne and used a hand to turn your chin to face him.

“Do you see what I have done for you?” He began, “Take it as a vow. All those that lay a finger on you will be eaten like scraps. That was the fate of that filthy vermin that marked your arm, the fate of your master, and the fate of anyone who dares come after you now. You belong to me and me alone. Right, darling?”

You nodded, too lost in the trance of his eyes to speak. His thumb brushed your lower lip before retreating. From a small round side table, Commodus lifted a woven laurel wreath that was as green as his eyes. He placed it on you and adjusted it so it sat along the crown of your head.

“It appears you won the fight. Congratulations, my victor.” He kissed you on the cheek before gently tracing the bruise on your face. There was still an air of contempt that he held while looking at your injury, but Attius’ death gave him more satisfaction.

“Thank you, Commodus.” You said.

“We shall celebrate,” He squeezed your hips as a signal to get up and you did. He stood up after you and held out his hand, “Come,”

You placed your hand in his, warming at the familiarity of his touch. Taking one last glance at Attius’ still body, you followed Commodus out of the viewing box.

You had been eating at a table in Commodus’ chambers since the two of you arrived back at the palace. It was a private dinner, but still grand in the assembly of food laid out. The two of you ate and talked like you once did before you avoided him. It felt right to go back into that routine like all was finally right with the world.

The sun had long set and the both of you finished eating and only talked after. As the night got older, you began to unwind. Commodus stood off to the side, facing away from you as he took off his armour pieces. You occasionally glanced towards him while sipping on wine – not remembering the amount of cups you had. By the time he had gotten down to his underclothes and was unfastening his forearm braces, you decided to voice a question that had been burning you inside.

“Commodus?” He turned to give you his attention and hummed. You took another quick sip, “Why did you choose me?” He paused for a moment, as if your question did not entirely make sense.

“I’ve already told you. At the very least, part of it,” He took off his braces and placed them next to his other armour pieces. His footsteps echoed off of the marble flooring as he came back to you. Commodus rested his forearm over the top of your chair as he leaned over you.

“You sang at that festival and I felt warmth for the first time. It followed me in my dreams ever since. Admittedly, I did not know if you were still in the palace as you did not frequent above the lower levels. I should have hanged Attius for keeping you from the light.” His fingers reached out to trace your arm, moving up the length, across your shoulder, and towards the exposed collarbone.

All of a sudden, his posture went rigid. You could see the bump on his throat move up and down as he swallowed nervously. After a few tense seconds, he lowered himself to your eye level, crouching slightly. The gesture alone was incredible. Never would you have predicted an emperor would lower himself to your level, both literally and figuratively.

“I am correct in assuming these feelings are reciprocated?” He asked. You understood why he had become so nervous. While naturally ruthless, Commodus was an insecure man who looked for approval in the faces of everyone around him. Whether one could consider that a weakness or a strength was up to them. For you, none of that mattered.

It was almost comical the way you shared that same worry for a while. You too were scared that the depths of his dedication and care were shallow, but if today had taught you anything, it was that a notion like that was far from the truth.

“You are correct, Commodus.” You responded, “I deeply care for you.” Those words washed over him and you could see how he instantly relaxed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, scanning you up and down as if to see if you were real.

He surged forward and captured your lips with his, an ecstasy of heat. You melted into the feeling and relished in the attention. His hands gripped your waist tightly and pulled you up from the chair until your lower back dug into the table. He lifted you to sit on the table, the plates and cutlery jostling with the movement. Commodus was devouring you and at that moment you realized you did not mind it at all.

His movement to pick you up and place you on the table caused you to gasp, which he used to his advantage. His tongue entered your mouth, exploring and dominant. Your breathing became laboured and your body felt fuzzy – as if all the sensations around you that were not Commodus faded into the background.

He kissed you a few more times before gently biting on your lower lip, pulling away and letting it go. You opened your eyes and saw him staring right at you. His chest was heaving slightly and he kept his forehead resting on yours; completely unwilling to be further from you in any way.

“That…” Your whispered voice trailed off. Commodus smiled at how dazed you were and was happy to see his power over you.

Glancing out the window near you, you saw just how dark it was and understood that it had to be closer to twilight. Your mood instantly died. You would need to go to bed immediately. Already you had lost out on valuable sleeping time and knew it would cause you to lack in your chores tomorrow.

“Commodus, there is nothing I would like more than to stay with you, believe me. But I need to go and rest. There are many tasks I have to get to tomorrow.”

He looked at you like you had said something incredibly bizarre, “Did you not hear what I told you in the arena? You are mine and because of that, you will do no more work. From now on, my room is yours. You are my lady, the emperor’s lady.” His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as he pushed himself to stand between them. Even sitting on the table, you did not reach his height.

“And what will people say?” You questioned.

“They’ll say nothing if they favour their heads.” Something in the way he said those words made you more eager for him. Deciding to take charge for once, you grabbed the fabric of his tunic and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Commodus moved with you as he was eager to participate, but remained gentle to not hurt your bruises.

There was a heat that bubbled in your stomach, fueling a hunger that you had never felt before. Instinctively, your hips ground against his. Commodus reciprocated, moving the clothed area of his hardening length against your core. The kiss got more intense, a mesh of heated breath and knocking teeth. He clung to you like a last resort, like you were his last chance to arrive in the Elysium fields.

Your hands roamed everywhere, up his arms and down his chest, feeling the muscles that lay under the fabric of his tunic. The table moved with the force of each of your movements, becoming unstable. Commodus gripped your thighs, pushing them against his sides and wrapping around his waist. You let him pull your arms around his neck and he lifted you off of the table.

His strength nearly shocked you, but it was not surprising. He pulled away from the kiss long enough so he could walk up the marble steps to the raised dias that held his bed. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling onto the plush silk sheets of his bed; or more accurately what he has now framed as your shared bed. The thought sent a fluttering feeling to the already burning part of your stomach and lodged up towards your chest.

Commodus leaned down over you and rested on one forearm while he used his free hand to trace across your collarbone and neck, “You’re mine. Not the senate’s, not Rome’s, not anyone’s.”

You nodded enthusiastically, begging for more attention from him, “Yours, only yours.”

Commodus leaned down and began to assail your neck; licking, kissing, and biting every inch. You trembled under his touch and became reduced to nothing but breathless moans. His hands pulled away at the fabrics that wrapped your form, the pretty assemble being torn off you. You would have been sad about it if it were not for the fact that he could easily buy you another.

He took away each layer and left you bare under him. Commodus stopped his assault on your neck and pulled back to look at you. Despite the occasional bruise on your arms and legs and a fading one on your stomach, he reached out and gripped your hip and swiped his thumb back and forth as his gaze travelled over you.

“My Venus,” He whispered. If you were not already unwound below him, you would have melted right there.

“Commodus,” His name fell like a plea on your lips. You needed him desperately and began to tug at his clothing. He humoured you, smiling softly as he stripped down. Once he was bare, you latched onto his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. You felt the softness of his lips as your tongues explored one another. His chest brushed against yours and the skin contact made you moan. He felt just as hot as your blood, pulsing and begging under the skin.

One of his large hands trailed down your stomach and brushed over your hip bone before caressing your inner thigh. In an instant, you opened your legs – entirely ready to surrender to him. Sensing how eager you were, he chuckled against your lips.

“So impatient, my love.” His fingers moved up your inner thigh but stopped just as he got close to your core. You whimpered when he ceased his movements. “Beg, darling. Tell me how much you want me.”

“Commodus please,” You moved your hips to try and get closer to his touch but he used his other hand to hold you down. He tsked and shook his head from side to side.

“That’s not playing fair,” He scolded you. While his hands were preoccupied with holding you down, yours were free and you used that to your advantage. He may be able to bring you to heel, but you know you could do just the same.

“Fuck being fair,” It was the first time you swore in front of him and his eyes sparkled at that, “Fuck me, Commodus, please.” Your hands moved to his lower stomach, lower and lower until you were able to grasp his hard cock. His entire body shuddered and his nostrils flared. Something clicked in him, a snap and his patience was gone.

Commodus pushed up further on the bed and crawled on top of the sheets, moving right up to you. You had shuffled towards the headboard with your legs bent at the knees and together. His hands gripped your knees and spread your legs so he could slot himself between them.

“Do you want this?” His warm breath tickled your neck as he trailed his lips across the skin, just barely touching but feeling so right.

You grabbed his jaw with both of your hands and moved his head to look him in the eyes, “Would I have spread my legs for you otherwise?” His eyes darkened at that and you could feel his jaw clench.

It was then that you had an idea that may not have been the best. You had seen how possessive he was of you and the violence he was willing to give to others on your behalf. You wanted to test the waters and see how much you could rile him up.

“Are you going to stop teasing and fuck me or do I have to find someone else?” It was a fake threat. There was nobody else that could ever compare to Commodus; nobody else you would ever want to even speak to. His face fell into incredible seriousness and you let go of him, only for his hand to grip your chin. It was not strong enough to hurt but it held your attention.

“I know what you’re trying to do, darling.” He leaned down with his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “By the time I am done, you won’t even be able to think about anybody else.”

In an instant, his warm fingers brushed through your folds. You sucked in a breath at the contact. His fingers moved meticulously, discovering each stroke that made you shake under him and moan. Commodus kissed across the expanse of your neck and chest, dragging his teeth along the skin occasionally. You found it hard to keep your eyes open as you were entranced by what you felt.

Your hands moved to cart through his hair. When you tugged at the strands, Commodus groaned. It appeared he was particularly sensitive there and you made a note to remember that in the future. He retaliated by latching his lips on one of your nipples, causing your back to arch. You felt one of his fingers slip into you at the same time while his thumb circled your bud. The fire that coursed through your veins was overwhelming and your breathing became erratic. He slipped another finger into you and upped the pace, dragging in and out with the rhythm of your hips moving.

His name tumbled from your lips over and over again like you were reciting a prayer. His mouth left marks across your chest and neck, some of which you knew would not be able to cover. You had a feeling it was deliberate. In your haze of pleasure, you could feel your body pull taught. The point of no return was met.

“Com… Commodus, I–” Your voice hitched as his thumb rolled over your bud once more.

Against the heat of your skin, his voice murmured, “I know, darling. Let go.” It was as if that was the final straw you needed.

The tense string of your body snapped and you found yourself shattering. He continued his movements, helping you ride out your high. Your head lolled to the side as you shut your eyes. His fingers moved out of you and you suddenly felt sad at the loss of contact. You craved more and wished to spend the rest of your time living in this bed with Commodus.

“Open your eyes for me,” Commodus’ hands cradled your face. You slowly opened your eyes, staring right into his. His lips turned up, “There’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss you and groaned at the feeling. Your body was still sensitive and recovering from your orgasm, but you craved more of him.

“Commodus… please.” There were no other words that needed to be said. His movements were eager, but not rushed. He shifted up so he was on his knees and grabbed his cock that was slick with precum. Slowly, almost painfully, he dragged the tip along your folds. You whimpered at the feeling and lifted your hips to feel more friction.

The haze of your previous peak was still heavy. You understood then why some people were so provocative in their transgressions. If you could stay like this with him forever you would stake your life to the ground and take that deal in a heartbeat.

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too much at just the feel of his cock against your folds. He collected your slick on his skin, trailing up again until the head got caught right at your entrance. Gradually, he pushed forward until he bottomed out. You saw his eyebrows furrow and noise leave his mouth that was a mix of a sigh and a groan. He muttered a few curses.

Commodus did not rush as he was content at the pace he was going because it made you come undone and desperate for anything more. The feeling of being so full made you squirm. You wanted friction or anything to bring back the feeling of ecstasy you had. Your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. Being connected like this with him was the best feeling in the world and you cursed your past self for believing it was a silly fantasy. This was real; real and raw and so good.

He slowly pulled out, dragging until the last moment to make you feel empty. You whined at the loss of his warmth but quickly shut up when he pushed back in, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated that action a few times, each getting faster until he set a steady pace. Your hips matched his movements. His face was buried in your neck with his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You could hear his moans and grunts which only spurred you on further.

You scratched the planes of his back, digging deeper with each thrust. Even when so deeply connected it did not feel like it was enough. Nothing could ever feel enough to be connected with him. Your scratching made Commodus move faster, picking up the pace.

The change of speed caused you to release your hold on him, finding little energy to lift your arms. It was like you were under a spell and completely under his influence.

“That’s it, gods, good girl,” Commodus murmured into your ear. You moaned back with small babbles of his name as your brain was unable to form a single thought other than him; his presence, his feel, him, him, him. It consumed your mind and left you a squirming mess.

He took your hands that had fallen, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them above your head. Your legs wrapped around his waist and it changed the angle at which he was thrusting into you. The tip of his cock hit a soft spot in you that had you chasing stars at the back of your eyes. The stretch that he gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core and burned through your body.

Commodus began to mutter words with each thrust, “Mine. My girl. My Venus.” He went on and on. Your chest rose against his, pushing for a bit more contact. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but his grip on your wrist was tight. His breath hit the shell of your ear, tickling it slightly.

The familiar feeling of your build-up hit you and Commodus could tell. He continued the steady rhythm but changed the angle to reach deeper. You nearly shouted at the difference. While he was relentless, his posture changed slightly, becoming less composed as he chased the same high you were experiencing. Both of you could feel the bed moving under you, its sturdy build taking the movement.

You were wound up again and pulled taught, but this time it felt more intense than the previous. Commodus lost his movement and fucked you with reckless abandon. All manner of control was lost and his perfect posture faltered. It seemed, like you, he had become just as mindless and broken down – doing everything possible to chase pleasure. Despite it all, you could still feel the care that he had for you in the way he muttered sweet nothings into your ear. You squeezed around his length as the build-up in your stomach started to increase.

“Let go, love. Let me hear you.” Commodus instructed.

Suddenly, like the waves that crashed against the shores of the home of your childhood, a flood of ecstasy came over you as you reached your peak and descended off of it. Your wanton moans filled the room, matching the sounds the two of you had been making for a while. Commodus visibly relished in it, nipping at your earlobe and kissing your neck. The feeling of your orgasm caused your walls to squeeze and made his movements falter.

He pulled out suddenly, right as he came. The hot strings of cum coated your lower abdomen. He moved to rest his forehead on yours, eyes closed and face scrunched in the heat of his pleasure. Your legs felt numb. Commodus almost collapsed on top of you. He released his hold on your wrists and held himself up by his forearms on either side of your head.

The two of you joined in a kiss. This one was a sharp contrast to the quick pace you had. It was slow and passionate, full of trust and care. His hands tangled in your hair, pushing it back with a gentleness unseen. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the perspiration that gathered there. Both of your bodies came down from the high, chests rising and falling.

You thought back to just a few short weeks ago when you were invited into his room. You were incredibly glad he only wanted company then. If not for that, you would have never been able to build this relationship with him. Moreso, you were incredibly thankful your younger self decided to sing at that festival and caught his attention. It seemed that little actions in life led to big changes.

It still felt absurd now with your change of position. You were no longer a servant, no longer expected to fulfill the duties that had your body aching and mind hurting at the end of the day.

It was so ridiculous to you, that you could not help but let out a chuckle. Commodus moved his forehead from yours and opened his eyes. You wished to get lost in those eyes.

“And what do you find so amusing, hm?” He spoke.

You looked at him with adoration, “Is it wrong to be happy?”

“No,” Commodus moved to rest beside you, taking a spare cloth from the wash basin placed beside the bed and wiping your stomach down. There was something in his movements that felt almost… domestic. It was not something you ever thought of an emperor doing. “I’m glad you are happy.”

A beat of silence passed as he laid down next to you on his back and used an arm to pull you flush against him. Your head rested on his pec, hearing the thumping of his heart.

“Are you happy?” You asked. He squeezed you closer and kissed your temple.

“You made me happy long before all of this.” He answered. Your face scrunched up with wonder.

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head to look into his eyes, fingers tracing patterns onto his chest.

“Your singing. It followed me everywhere since that festival. From my mind,” He placed one hand over yours and guided it right above where his heart would be, “to here.”

There were no words you could think of to respond with. The poetics of his words hit you. You wanted to drown in him, to stay there in that moment for a lifetime. You reached out to trace his jaw, thumb massaging the top of his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch and kissed the pulse point of your wrist.

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you, for everything,” You could barely imagine what it would be like back in your old life, under the constant fear of your old master, “I may not know what I can do to repay you but–”

“Stay with me.” He interrupted you. There was a shine in his eyes, “You want to repay me? Stay. That is all I need.”

You stared at him and nodded your head, “I’ll always stay.”

The two of you understood the depths of the promise. It was your own declaration of love, without the words being spoken. A mutual understanding and a promise of forever. It was not traditional to other couples, but again you knew this relationship already did not fit within the bounds of traditionality. It did not matter.

You kissed him again, sealing the words upon both of your lips. There, you were content to start a new life; a better life.

This was incredibly fun to write! I am 100% open to writing more fics for any characters in the Gladiator films and plan to open up requests. So, if that's something ya'll are interested in, let me know.

Thank you all for the support! <3

taglist: @scrumptiousloser @juliusceasersblog @po1sonddol @cheesecakeluver @oscarisdaddy69

#emperor commodus #gladiator #commodus imagine #commodus fanfic #commodus fanfiction #joaquin phoenix #commodus x reader #commodus x you #gladiator 2000

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cxffecoupx · 2 months ago

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caramel and cuddles

jeon wonwoo + when it's cold outside so they hold hands together inside someone's coat pocket. wc: 525 warnings: mentions of food author's notes: with this we officially start winter wonderland!! i've been so excited for this but i really really hope i follow through w it :') hope you guys like it! do show some love~ winter wonderland masterlist

it was a peaceful day.

or so wonwoo thought until you expressed your desire to go to a cafe. to have one of those extra sweet, extra chocolatey, caramel dripping, whipped cream topped, over-expensive drinks, he mocks you, but you hit his chest whining that it was just a 'caramel latte.'

he never found the appeal of those overly sweet drinks, he'd think as he sips his extra strong, double shot, no sugar espresso.

but those drinks always put you in a better mood for the rest of the day, and wonwoo cares more about that than some random drink.

he goes to put on a jacket and returns to find you wearing a tank top (a freaking tank top! in this cold weather!) and jeans and waiting for him.

"don't you think you need a jacket?" he asks, but he already knows the answer to it.

"nope, it'll ruin my outfit," you twirl to show him. "it's not that cold anyways."

he sighs before smiling at your goofiness and presses a kiss to your lips as you head out.

the walk to the cafe was a pleasant one. leaves crumbling under boots, cool breeze touching faces, tip of your nose feeling cold and wonwoo kissing it to warm it. he gets you your caramel latte and him, a hot americano with an apple pie to share. you both sit in the window-side booth, laughing over mundane things and cursing at your jobs, plans for christmas and new years.

you exit the cafe behind wonwoo, and the second he turns towards home, you're hit with the cold wind that freezes you in your spot. wonwoo stops a few steps ahead when he doesn't see you beside him. he turns around to see you still standing in front of the cafe entrance, hugging yourself.

he walks back. "what happened?"

"it's cold..."

wonwoo chuckles before taking your hand and pulling you along with him. slowly though, he falls a step behind you and when you weren't noticing (because you were more focused on reaching home before turning into a popsicle), he takes off his jacket and wraps it around you.

"i knew this would happen. this is why I brought the jacket," he says.

your eyes moisten as you look at him and pull him in for a kiss.

"you take such good care of me, woo. i love you so much."

"yeah yeah, let's not make this a habit though," he mumbles as he rubs his hands for some warmth. you giggle and take his hand, intertwining it with yours, and keep your hands in the coat pocket.

"there, this might make it better."

he looks at you and laughs.

"you're so silly," he says in between laughs and places a kiss to your forehead.

you continue walking, shivering ever so slightly in the cold.

"don't you think it'll start snowing pretty soon?" you ask.

"probably in a day or two's time. not that i'm looking forward to it..."

you stand on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair and say, "don't worry. we can have plenty of cuddling sessions."

"now that's something i can't wait for."

prompt by @novelbear divider by @adornedwithlight

#svt #seventeen #svt x reader #seventeen × reader #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen drabbles #svt wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo drabble #articles.ris

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kumezyzo · 8 months ago

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it's heartbreaking that suguru geto doesn't accept your love. you didn't come from a family of sorcerers, so in his eyes, you got lucky with a powerful technique. you got lucky that you didn't get swallowed up by the unfamiliar world of jujutsu.

it's embarrassing, really. you pining over someone who doesn't really respect you. he remembers when he found out that you didn't come from a family of sorcerers. he thought it was pathetic that you hid it from them.

but you couldn't care because his smile was so pretty, and his voice was so kind even when his words were laced with pure hatred. you ignored his judgemental glances and the way he shrugged you off. if it were up to him, he would have never chosen to bring you into his inner circle. but you were one of the strongest. and satoru loved having you around.

perhaps satoru just simply loved you. although his love was never simple, was it? he looked at you like you were the only beauty in the world, like you were far more perfect than perfection itself. that alone was almost nauseating. he didn't care that you didn't come from an important clan because you were so strong and you held your own.

even when fushiguro toji brought you to the brink of death, satoru thought you were strong. suguru, on the other hand, had not. even if he didn't say it to your face, he found other ways to let you know he blamed you for riko's death. you were supposed to be as strong as him and satoru, and somehow, you ended up on deaths door, and fushiguro toji barely hurt. god, did he hate you.

he hated how you smiled when they came to visit you in your hospital bed with bandages wrapped around your body. he hated the way tears filled your eyes when you saw apologized for not doing your job. he loathed the way satoru and shoko hugged you, telling you they were just glad you were alive. could they not see that you didn't need their pity?

what he hated even more was how you were the only one who seemed to care when he started losing weight and the bags under his eyes grew deeper, darker. he hated your soft and kind voice, asking, "Are you okay, Suguru?"

"....huh?" he turned to you with eyes void of any sort of emotion. but that was soon replaced with disdain. he looked away, going back to stare at the short grass of the sparring field.

you hesitantly scooted closer to him. "you haven't been yourself.... i know satoru said you're losing weight, but -"

"it's none of your business," he spat out your name in a way that made you want to hide. his voice no longer sounded like a soothing breeze. there was something different in his eyes, something so painfilled that you yourself felt your soul crumble. "shouldn't you be training with shoko or flirting with satoru?"

"satoru? what... suguru, i dont- look, doesn't matter," you turned to face him better with a sigh. "i just want to make sure you're okay. you haven't been okay, and i want to help you -"

"well i dont need you fucking help," he said with finality, walking away from you, his cursed energy oozing off of him darkly. it was like his energy was attacking you without him knowing. you could feel his darkness- no- his pain in every fibre and crevice of his being.

that was the last time you saw suguru geto for the next eight years. he went on a mission and never came back. you wished that it had surprised you when you found out that he had killed a village of innocent people. but it wasn't. in the time you had after your last conversation, you saw how much hatred was behind his eyes. it was your first heartbreak. the heartbreak of your first love.

idk what this is, really. its kinda based on a fic i wanna write, but this will have to do for now. 😁 -nony

#jjk suguru #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu gojo #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto angst #angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst

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cherry-leclerc · 9 months ago

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so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really.

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money.

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm.

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once.

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it.

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps.

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades.

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief.

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.”

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most.

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek.

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance.

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third.

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another.

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay.

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love.

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were.

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos.

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile.

“One day, then.”

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious.

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms.

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn.

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.”

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you.

It was perfect.

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you.

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse.

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall.

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band.

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare.

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one.

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart.

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused.

You’re broken hearted.

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain.

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel.

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!”

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you.

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours.

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too.

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it.

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay.

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth.

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly?

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does.

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine.

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one.

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me.

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten.

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things.

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?”

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken.

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses.

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does.

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck?

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London.

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday.

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you.

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever.

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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kaiijo · 2 years ago

Text

TOLD YOU SO — ITOSHI SAE

pairing: itoshi sae x fem! reader content: reader wears a dress, a little possessive behavior on sae’s end, oliver aiku cameo notes: pretty eyes = pretty guys

You love Sae, you really do. Behind that apathetic, disinterested exterior lies a heart that beats in turn with yours. You love him, you really, really do, and you have to remind yourself of that as you ignore the side-eye he’s giving you that’s tinged with a certain smugness and screams, I told you so.

Okay, so it definitely was not the smartest move to forego a coat when you knew that this fundraiser was going to be on an outdoor rooftop bar in late fall. But none of your coats went with the dress you were wearing — a long, low-backed, satin number — which was the only thing you had that was formal enough for the event. Sae had looked you up and down when you two were getting ready in your apartment and said, “You’re going to be cold.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, “it’s not even that cold out.”

“You need to bring a coat.”

“I’m really fine, Sae. I run hot, remember?”

He glanced at your outfit again and said, “You’re going to be freezing.”

You shrugged and gave him a cheeky smile. “Then I’ll just wear your coat.”

He rolled his eyes. “No way, I’m not going to be cold because of your poor judgment.”

You hummed, “I think you will.”

“And I think you’ll be freezing.”

“Guess we’ll both have to wait and see whose right.”

You really hate when he’s absolutely and utterly correct in an argument, because at the moment, you’re trying your best to pretend that the goosebumps climbing your skin is not due to the chilly evening air. You refuse to meet Sae’s eyes, enviously peeking at his suit jacket.

You shiver as a breeze blows by and you huff to yourself, mumbling that you’re going to get a drink. Maybe indulging in the open bar will warm you up. You weave through the crowd and make it to the bar, sighing when you feel the warmth from one of the few heat lamps set up around the area. You swear that your boyfriend made the two of you purposely stand in a corner without one to prove a point.

You order a martini and sip it as you stand in the heat for a few more seconds, relishing in it. It’s not total protection from the cold but it definitely helps some.

You feel someone sidle up next to you and say, “You’re Sae’s girlfriend, right?”

You turn and face the owner of the voice, extending your free hand. “Yeah, that’s me. Oliver Aiku, right?”

“In the flesh,” he chuckles and he shakes your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve been bugging Itoshi to introduce us since we saw you on his home screen.”

You smile involuntarily. That photo is from when you and Sae really started getting serious in your relationship, and he took you on a surprise trip to a little cottage in Mallorca. “Yeah, we’ve been trying to keep things pretty private.”

Oliver hums, “I get that, but it’s nice to finally meet the person who makes him actually crack a smile for once.”

You laugh at that and the two of you carry on a pleasant conversation. You finally get how so many people fall victim to Oliver’s charms, especially after so much press about his tendency towards womanizing; he’s easy to talk to, friendly, definitely charismatic, and undoubtedly easy on the eyes. At the end of the day, though, you wouldn’t trade your grumpy, green-eyed boyfriend for anyone in the world. Not when you get to see the softer edges of him when his walls crumble and he falls into your arms. You wouldn’t trade that for anything.

A particularly strong gust of wind makes you stiffen and set your glass down, wrapping your arms around yourself. Okay, you’ll finally admit it aloud: “It’s fucking freezing.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow and before you know it, he’s shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over your bare shoulders. “Better?”

You let out a sigh. “Much.”

“Aiku.” Sae’s voice sounds from behind you, tone sharp.

“Itoshi!” Oliver ignores the ice in your boyfriend’s tone as he motions to you. “Can’t believe you’ve been keeping this one from us! She’s certainly a charmer.”

Sae glares at him. “I know, she’s my girlfriend, which is why I don’t understand why she’s wearing your coat.”

“Oh, she said she was cold.”

Sae gives you a look, frowns, and he slides his jacket off his shoulders and holds it out to you. “Take this,” he says and you do, hiding your giddiness as you hand Oliver his jacket back. You sink into Sae’s suit jacket, letting the familiar scent of his cologne flood your senses.

Oliver pats your shoulder and says, “It was nice to meet you! Don’t be a stranger, ‘kay?” He disappears into the crowd and it’s your turn to give Sae a smug look.

“Don’t even,” he says.

You lean into him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Guess we were both right in the end.”

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock scenarios #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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amongemeraldclouds · 10 months ago

Text

chasing highs

No plot, just smut. You're welcome.

Mattheo x Lorenzo x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ MDNI, drug use, threes*me, v!fingering, oral (m!receiving), piv, unprotected sex, slight bondage, blindfolding, cursing, daddy kink, praise kink, no use of y/n. Characters are aged up.

Credit: Enzo and Matt artwork by the talented @finalgirllx ♡ The tie was doing something to me so it made it in the story.

✿ Masterlist | 2.6k words

The breeze carries the trail of smoke, curtains swaying in its wake as glowing embers crumble onto the soot stained carpet of Mattheo’s dorm. Curly hair falls carelessly from his forehead as he leans back to blow one final puff, indulging in the wave of relaxation that settles in his bones. Outside, the stars glitter stubbornly.

“My turn,” you reach out to Mattheo, trying to snatch the joint from between his fingers. Instead he holds it above him, out of reach. “Come get it,” he taunts.

You scrunch your face, annoyed by another one of his little games. Fueled by spite and sheer determination, you move closer and climb on his seated figure on the floor, rising to claim your prize.

Instead, your spite and sheer determination sends you toppling over Mattheo and his body cushions your fall. Heat rises to your cheeks when you look up to find his face just inches from yours. You drink in his long lashes and the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Beneath you, you savor the solid warmth of his body flush against yours and your breath catches when you feel his blood rush below. His chest rumbles out a seductive laugh as his free hand moves to your waist, shooting electric sparks through you. “We really need to stop finding ourselves in this position,” he breathes.

“It was just one time,” you bite back, heat pooling down your core at the memory of how good he felt inside you, scratches carved across his back and moans lost in his hungry kisses.

It may have just been one time, but it was hours of rediscovering pleasure and releasing inhibitions like never before. It was with Mattheo after all, the boy who always challenged you to go beyond your comfort zone while supporting you the entire time so it never felt as scary as it should have been. It didn’t hurt that you were also high when it happened.

“Salazar,” Enzo curses, rising from his spot on the floor to grab the joint that hangs dangerously close to the carpet. “You’ll burn this whole place down without me,” he accuses, shaking his head. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a hit in an attempt to relax.

A thought occurs to him just as he exhales the smoke. “Wait, you two had fun without me?” Hurt and betrayal dance across his features as guilt sinks into your chest. Growing up, you’ve done everything from learning magic to stirring up trouble together as a trio.

“It just happened,” you brush off nonchalantly, hoping he’d let it slide. Your attempts to move off Mattheo is seized by his strong grip around your waist. You try to ignore the way his breath hitches as you squirm in protest, unintentionally grinding against him. “Mattheo, let me go,” you tap his shoulder.

“Want to make it up to Enzo, dear?” He asks in a low voice. Enzo gulps at Mattheo’s words, anticipation rising from deep within him.

“Here, right now?” You ask incredulously, fighting the urge to rub your thighs together to soothe your aching core.

“Stop pretending,” he commands. “I bet if we touch your cunt right now, you’d be dripping all over my fingers.” Sometimes it’s difficult to be Mattheo’s best friend when he knows you all too well.

You relent, guilt mixing with desire, and bury your head in the crook of his neck in surrender. His grip on you softens, arms pulling you closer as if this is nothing but a sweet, innocent hug. “That’s my girl,” he says in your ear.

“Okay daddy,” you whisper in response. “Fuck,” he groans appreciatively as he rises, taking you with him.

“Kneel for daddy, princess,” he commands, pinning your arms behind your back as he faces you towards Enzo, whose jaw is slack in disbelief.

“Want to show Enzo just how much of a slut you are?” He challenges as he looms behind you, keeping your hands pinned.

You look into Enzo’s brown eyes and take in the curiosity and longing in his features as he watches you intently. “I’ll be a good girl for you tonight,” you promise. Mattheo hasn’t even touched your clothes yet you feel Enzo already undressing you with his eyes.

Mattheo runs his free hand along the side of your face, feeling each curve as he moves from your neck, down to your shoulder, drawing gooseflesh as he travels lower down to your waist.

The room falls quiet until all you hear are your shallow breaths. Electricity hums in the air as Mattheo unbuttons your blouse, each pop emphasized in the silence. Enzo’s eyes darken, following the movement downwards, committing your figure to memory. Fuck you’re so sexy, Enzo thinks.

Sparks bloom where Mattheo’s fingers graze your bare skin and next thing you know, your arms are free as he slips off your blouse and unclasps your bra, leaving you in just your skirt and underwear.

You shiver in the evening chill, but Mattheo is quick to bring his body against yours, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other squeezes your breast. You gasp at the sudden change in temperature, his touch both tender and harsh.

“Come here, Enzo. Our girl is ready for you,” he encourages.

Enzo walks across the room tentatively and asks you, “are you sure?”

“I want you, Enzo,” you affirm, already imagining how good he would taste and feel against your body, how well he would fit inside you.

He moves with more certainty this time, taking a drag to help calm his nerves. “Me too,” you tell him, expecting him to hand over the joint. Instead, he brings his lips to yours and exhales directly into your mouth. You close your eyes as you welcome the smoke.

“Have more, princess,” Mattheo says as he grabs the joint from Enzo and takes a long drag. You open your mouth for him and he passes the smoke to you. You lean back and rest your head on Mattheo’s shoulder as a wave of calm settles into your system and your senses come alive.

Enzo closes the distance and brings his lips to yours, kissing you this time. It starts out soft and tentative, as sweet as Enzo himself. But when you bring your fingers to his hair and pull him closer, all trace of politeness is smeared off. He bites your lower lip and explores your mouth with his tongue, gliding his hands across curve of your waist, pinning you between him and Mattheo.

You palm Enzo’s erection in response, rubbing his twitching cock against his trousers, and enjoy the vibration of his moan against your lips. You’re keenly aware of the fast rise and fall of Enzo’s chest while Mattheo takes one last drag before he snuffs out the blunt and returns his full attention to you.

Pushing your hair back, Mattheo plants gentle kisses on your neck and your toes curl. The dance between him being gentle and rough leaves you breathless for you couldn’t predict what’s coming next.

“Do you trust me, princess?” He asks, bringing his lips close to your ear, gently sucking at your earlobe. Enzo sends a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck, freeing your mouth to answer.

“Y-yes, daddy,” you whimper.

“What’s our safe word?”

“Scarlet,” you confirm, a wave of sobriety washing over you.

“Good girl.” You hear a rush of fabric as Mattheo removes his tie and uses it to bind your arms behind you. He gestures Enzo to hand over his before turning back to you. “Close your eyes princess, we’ll take good care of you.”

You do as you’re told, excitement humming within you when the world goes dark as Mattheo uses Enzo’s tie to blindfold you. “You’re going to feel real good,” Mattheo reassures you, securing the tie at the back of your head. He plants a chaste kiss on your cheek. He really needs to stop that, you think, as you feel both like a princess about to get spoiled and a whore bound and kneeling, eager to please your best friends.

Having lost your vision, you feel your other senses expand to compensate for it, further fueled by the drug-induced haze. You’re electrified by Mattheo’s shallow breaths against your skin and find yourself arching your back as Enzo kisses your breast, licking and leaving playful bites.

Mattheo’s fingers travel back down your lower body and you stop breathing when he reaches under your skirt, fingers teasing you through your panties. “Fuck, so wet for us,” he hums in approval as he moves the thin fabric aside to spread your slick all over your folds. Mattheo rubs slow lazy circles around your clit and Enzo kisses you again to capture your whimpers.

“Enzo, show her how you’re going to fill her up,” Mattheo encourages and a needy groan leaves your lips when you feel Enzo’s fingers graze your skirt, moving to your heated core. You nearly lose your balance when he rubs your slit before plunging his fingers inside you, but you find your body held upright between the two boys.

“Need to see how much of a slut you are,” Mattheo commands.

At his words, you move your hips against their hand, using their fingers to rub you exactly where you needed them. You can’t help the way your legs spread further apart for them, giving them more access to you as your juices drip onto the carpet. “So hungry,” Enzo breathes, pleasantly surprised to discover this side to you. Euphoria overrides your senses, making a moaning mess out of you.

“Daddy, I want to cum,” you ask Mattheo for permission.

“Not yet, baby,” he says, increasing his pace as Enzo curls his fingers, hitting the sensitive spot inside you. His free hand moves up to squeeze your breast, sending jolts of electricity through you.

You grunt in frustration and press your fingernails to your palm trying to stay in control, carving crescent shaped moons on your skin. “Sshh, I know princess, just a bit more,” Mattheo whispers.

It’s torture and heaven at the same time, your cunt growing more and more sensitive against their frenzied touch. “Please, fuck—” you beg as you find yourself teetering on the edge.

“Okay, princess. Show us how good we make you feel.” You cry out and come undone at Mattheo’s words, overwhelm sending you writhing against them as they continue their relentless pace, drawing out every last wave of pleasure.

You collapse against Enzo’s shoulder, trying to catch your breath. “You’re amazing,” you hear Enzo praise you as he gently strokes your hair.

“Need to know how you taste,” you beg once you feel yourself calm down. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Mattheo grabs your waist and lets you rest against him so Enzo can remove his clothes. His hand returns to your sensitive slit, fingers playing with your folds.

“Thank you, daddy,” you tell Mattheo and he covers your mouth in a hungry kiss. Beside you, you hear Enzo unbuckling his trousers, zipping it down to free his hard length.

Your centre of gravity shifts when Mattheo releases you and you feel Enzo fisting his hand through your hair, guiding you towards him. You open your mouth and close your lips around his cock, letting him thrust into you.

You try to stroke him but the restraints dig into your arms and you’re reminded again just how much you’re at their mercy. Instead, you roll your tongue against him and Enzo gasps at the euphoric jolt it sends. “You’re so pretty like this,” Enzo groans as he starts moving at a steady pace.

You rub your thighs together in anticipation when you hear Mattheo unzip his trousers. “Be a good girl for daddy,” he commands as he unties the restraints around your arms. He gently rubs them, soothing the discomfort away before he plants gentle kisses on the marks it left around your wrists.

He lifts you from your kneeling position to all fours and Enzo supports your hands before entering your hungry mouth again. You moan against Enzo’s cock when you feel Mattheo grip your hips as he slides his tip across your cunt and enters you from behind.

You clamp down against him and he moves slowly at first, letting yourself adjust to his length. Soon enough, he’s dripping with your arousal and he starts moving faster, the delicious friction building pressure at the base of your stomach. Upon impact, you find yourself choking against Enzo’s cock and your eyes water at the repeated contact. You remind yourself to breathe.

“Fuck, such a good slut,” Mattheo praises. “You’re taking us so well,” Enzo hums in approval. Desperate, filthy noises escape your lips in response, muffled by Enzo’s cock. The vibrations it creates against Enzo sends him over the edge as he releases a guttural moan and you relish the warm feeling of his salty cum in your mouth.

“You like how I taste, love?” Enzo asks, running his thumb across your swollen lip to push his spilled seed back to your mouth and you suck on it. At the same time Mattheo commands, “be a good girl and swallow his load.” You whimper, taking every last drop down your throat, too cock drunk to use your words.

Your focus returns to Mattheo as he takes on a vicious pace, fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You cry out, feeling yourself get closer and closer to your release. “That’s it,” Mattheo encourages, feeling the familiar way you clench around him just before you unravel. “Cum for daddy,” he commands, each word emphasized by a brutal thrust into your dripping pussy.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, seeing stars as you quiver against Mattheo’s cock. Wave after wave of pleasure overtakes you as he continues his persistent intoxicating thrusts.

It feels even better when he unloads in you. “Take it all baby, see how crazy you make me,” he coos into your ear in between filthy moans as he comes undone and you feel hot liquid drip down your leg. After taking a second to catch his breath, he wraps his arm around you, guiding you upright again.

You feel his hands behind your head as he unties the blindfold. While your eyes adjust back to the room and the starlit sky beyond the window, Mattheo brings his arms back around you, pulling you in for a hug. “You were so good,” he praises, burying his head in your shoulder. You reach back and massage his curls, enjoying how well you fit against each other.

You hum in pleasure as the events sink in. “You two spoil me too much.”

You smile at Enzo when he approaches you and kisses your lips playfully. He shakes his head in disbelief, “we’ve wasted so much time when we could have been doing this much longer.” Mattheo chuckles in agreement, his warm breath on your neck sending butterflies to your stomach.

He plants one final kiss on your cheek before getting up to dress himself. “And now I’m hungry, I’m going to grab some food,” he says nonchalantly, back to his usual self.

“Get some for us too,” Enzo adds.

He looks back with his signature smirk, “we’ll see.” You scoff at his response, knowing full well he will return with more food than any of you could eat.

As soon as Mattheo closes the door, you smirk at Enzo. “You know, that thing you said about lost time?” You ask, licking your lips.

“Yeah?” He replies with a wicked grin.

“We can always make up for it,” you grab Enzo’s arm, leading him towards the bed. “Come on, I still need to know how you feel inside me.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: Why does my warning list get more and more unhinged the more smut I write?

My fics are usually around 1k words because I start losing my attention span after that. This is actually the longest I’ve done so far at 2.6k words, but I feel like I could’ve kept it going haha. Perhaps I’ll write another threes*me in the future. Stay tuned and stay feral, friends!

#lorenzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #lorenzo berkshire smut #mattheo riddle smut #lorenzo berkshire x you #mattheo riddle x you #enzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #lorenzo berkshire imagine #threes0me #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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dee-writes-anime · 4 months ago

Text

He Was Gone and So Were You

FEATURING Touya 'Dabi' Todoroki x Reader

SUMMARY You won't leave him to die alone again, not when you're right there, not when you can stop him or go down trying.

CONTENT WARNINGS HEAVY ANGST (buckle up y'all), kids being kids, Touya's backstory, familial abuse, death, murder, suicide (?), descriptions of injuries, fire, it's just straight pain below the cut.

AUTHORS NOTE the new episode of MHA has me so fucked up I decided to be cruel and force you all to join me in my pain. Enjoy! :)

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the cherry blossoms, casting gentle shadows across the grass where you and Touya sat. The pink petals floated down like delicate snowflakes, a soft breeze swirling them around you. The world seemed perfect in that moment—quiet, untouched by the weight of the Todoroki household or the burden on Touya’s small shoulders. Just the two of you, together, in your secret spot beneath the largest cherry blossom tree in the yard.

Your fingers traced the rough bark, feeling the grooves where Touya had proudly burned your initials into the tree. T+_ enclosed in a heart, scorched into the wood with a steady hand and a bright spark of his flame. You smiled as you looked at it, a reminder of all the promises you had whispered to each other under this very tree.

“I’m going to be the strongest hero ever,” Touya declared, his voice tinged with defiance. He sat cross-legged beside you, his fiery hair wild from the wind, his bright blue eyes shining with determination. “I’ll be stronger than my dad, and... and I’ll never treat you like that. I’ll be different.”

You blinked, your heart swelling as you met his gaze. “What do you mean, Touya?”

He looked away, biting his lip, his small hands clenched into fists on his knees. “I won’t be like him. I won’t ever make you feel the way my mom feels, or... or the way you look when you talk about your dad.” His voice was small but filled with a fierce determination beyond his years.

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his. “I know you won’t. You’re kind, Touya. You always protect me.”

He glanced at your hand, and his fists slowly unclenched. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softening. “I’ll protect you. I’ll marry you one day, y’know?” He turned back to you, a shy grin spreading across his face. “I’ll be a pro hero, and we’ll have a house, and I’ll never... never let anyone hurt you.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, a small laugh escaping your lips. “You really think you’ll marry me?”

“I know I will,” he said firmly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ll live together, and we’ll have this tree in our yard. And...” He paused, leaning closer to the bark, brushing his fingers over the burned heart. “No matter how strong I get, I’ll always come back here. I promise.”

For a moment, you sat in silence, the weight of his words settling between you like a secret. His dream seemed so bright, so clear, and in that moment, you believed it too. Touya would become a hero, he’d marry you, and you’d have that perfect future together. The world hadn’t been cruel enough yet to make you doubt it.

But then, Touya’s smile faltered. His bright eyes dimmed, and he turned his gaze downward, tracing the edges of the grass beneath him. “Dad said I wasn’t good enough again today.”

Your heart ached at the way his voice cracked, so quiet and defeated. The confidence he had held so fiercely just moments ago crumbled before your eyes, and your chest tightened at the sight of it. You knew how hard he tried, how he practiced for hours, pushing himself until he could barely stand—all for his father’s approval, and yet... it was never enough.

“Touya...” you whispered, scooting closer to him, your knees brushing against his.

He sniffed, his hands balling into fists once more. “He says I’m not ready. Says I shouldn’t use my quirk anymore, that it’s too dangerous.” His lips trembled, and he bit down hard to stop them. “But I can do it. I can get stronger. I know I can.”

“I know you can too,” you murmured, reaching up to gently cup his cheek, turning his face toward you. “You’re the strongest person I know, Touya. One day, your dad’s going to see it too.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, and for a moment, the tension in his small frame eased. “Do you really think so?”

“I do,” you said softly, your thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down his cheek. “But you don’t need him to see it to know it’s true. You’ve already shown me how amazing you are. Every time you show me your new moves, I can see how much stronger you’re getting.”

He opened his eyes then, staring at you with a quiet kind of hope. “You... you like seeing my moves?”

You nodded, smiling brightly. “Of course I do! I love seeing you in action. You’re going to be the best hero, just like you said.”

His lips twitched into a small, bashful smile, and he looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll show you some new ones soon. I’ve been practicing. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

You laughed softly, crossing your heart with your finger. “I promise. I won’t tell a soul.”

Touya’s smile widened, and he looked up at the tree again, at the initials he had burned into the wood, and then back at you. “You’re always going to be here, right? Even when I get strong... even if... even if Dad never sees it?”

“I’ll always be here,” you promised, shifting closer so your shoulder rested against his. “No matter what.”

And there, beneath the cherry blossom tree, with the sun setting and the petals swirling in the breeze, the two of you dreamed of a future that felt so certain, so full of hope—a future where Touya would be a hero, and you would always be by his side...

But that future had burned faster than your young lover's flesh on Sakoto Peak barely a month after that.

And now here you stood, years later, the flowers you had spent hours arranging, as you always did, trembling in your hands. The petals you had fluffed meticulously now pale against the gray of the sky as you knelt beneath the cherry blossom tree. The wind whispered through the branches, tugging at your hero’s cloak, and for a moment, the world felt frozen in time.

It haunted you, the moment when you found out— sitting in the break room, sipping on cold tea, the faint noise of the broadcast playing in the background. You hadn’t thought much of it at first, too exhausted from the latest mission to care about anything but the quiet that followed a hard day. And then, the screen flashed. A name you had tried so hard to forget. A face you had mourned every day for years.

Touya.

The breath had left your lungs in an instant. You watched, horror-stricken, as Dabi—no, Touya—spoke with that same fire in his eyes, but there was no joy, no warmth. It was rage. Pure, untethered rage. He talked about his father, about his hatred, and each word was like a knife twisting deeper into your chest. This wasn’t the boy you had known. This wasn’t the Touya who had dreamed under the cherry blossom tree, who had promised to protect you, to become a hero alongside you.

This was someone else.

And now, you sat beneath that very tree, clutching a bouquet of cherry blossoms in your hands, your heart breaking all over again. You had been coming here every week since the day they told you Touya was gone. Every week, you brought flowers, laying them at the base of the tree as a quiet tribute to the boy you had loved, to the future that had been stolen from both of you.

You had believed he was dead. Everyone had. They found the ashes, the charred remains of what was once a child, and you had wept for him. Wept for the boy who had been denied his dreams, for the boy who had burned so brightly that the world couldn’t handle his flame.

And now, all these years later, you still brought flowers. Even after learning the truth, even after watching the broadcast, after hearing his voice, twisted and cruel, you came. Because for you, Touya had died. The boy you had loved, the one who carved your initials into this tree, the one who swore he would be different—he was gone.

A sob clawed its way up your throat, the grief too much to hold in any longer. You pressed the flowers to your chest, your fingers digging into the soft petals as your tears fell silently onto the grass. “Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rustle of the wind. “Why did it have to be this way?”

The cherry blossom tree swayed above you, the branches creaking softly in the breeze. It had grown over the years, the initials you and Touya had burned into the bark still visible, though worn with time. T+_, a promise etched into wood, a promise of a future that would never come to pass.

“I... I thought you were gone,” you choked out, your vision blurring with tears. “I thought you were dead, and I—” Your voice broke, and you clutched the flowers tighter, trembling. “I became a hero for you, Touya. I tried to live the life you wanted, the one we talked about.”

You laid the flowers at the base of the tree, your fingers brushing over the initials, and a fresh wave of grief crashed over you. You had done everything for him—trained, fought, bled—all because you thought it was what he would have wanted. You thought it was what he would have done if he had lived. But now...

Now he was out there, burning everything in his path, destroying lives, hurting people. Everything he had promised he would never do.

“How could you?” you whispered, your hands shaking as you pressed your forehead to the rough bark of the tree. “How could you let this happen? You were supposed to be different. You were supposed to be better.”

But the only response was the wind, carrying with it the distant echoes of your childhood, of the days you spent dreaming of a future that no longer existed.

Your heart ached in ways you couldn’t put into words. The boy you had loved—the boy who had burned so brightly, who had been so full of hope and determination—he was gone, replaced by someone twisted and broken. Someone consumed by anger and hatred. And it hurt more than anything, knowing that the person you had once sworn to stand by was now so far beyond your reach.

Tears streamed down your face as you sat back on your heels, staring at the flowers you had laid at the base of the tree. “I still love you,” you admitted, the words bitter on your tongue. “I still love the boy you were, but I don’t know who you are anymore.”

And that was the cruelest part of it all, wasn’t it? You had loved Touya with everything you had, and even now, knowing what he had become, some part of you still clung to the memory of him. But the boy who had once held your hand beneath this tree was gone, and the man who stood in his place—Dabi—was nothing more than a ghost of the past, a shadow of the boy you had once known.

“I don’t know if I can save you,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you stared up at the cherry blossoms, the pink petals swirling above you like memories you couldn’t quite grasp. “I don’t even know if you want to be saved.”

You sat there for a long time, the silence pressing down on you, the weight of everything too heavy to bear. The world had moved on, continued to fight, but here, in this quiet corner of the past, you were trapped. Trapped in the memory of what once was, of what could have been.

The boy you loved was gone, and you were left with nothing but the echo of his promise, carved into the bark of a tree that stood witness to your shared dreams.

And still, despite everything, you brought flowers. Because for you, Touya had died long ago, and even now, you couldn’t let him go.

No matter how badly your heart ached at the news of Touya being alive, you had promised another that you would support them no matter what. A boy who became a younger brother to you, one who became your anchor in your own family storm after the loss of Touya.

Which is why, after cleaning yourself up from your visit to the cherry tree, you found yourself at the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic hanging in the air as you walk down the hospital hallway, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the tiles beneath your feet. The world outside was loud—sirens, chaos, and the aftershock of Dabi’s broadcast still rippling through the city—but here, in the quiet, all you could hear was the soft hum of machines and the distant murmur of voices from other rooms.

Your heart raced, a hollow ache spreading through your chest as you neared the door at the end of the corridor. Shoto was inside. Alone. The weight of everything that had happened—the reveal of his brother’s identity, the trauma it had brought to light—was more than anyone could bear, let alone someone who had already suffered so much. And you… you were barely holding it together yourself.

For years, you had been a constant presence in his life, stepping in after Touya’s supposed death. You’d watched him grow up in that cold, abusive household, doing everything you could to be the older sister he needed, to offer him comfort when his own family couldn’t. But now, after everything, you weren’t sure how to help him through this. How could you? How could you possibly console him when you couldn’t even make sense of your own grief?

The door creaked open under your hand, and there he was—Shoto, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, his back turned to you, his shoulders hunched beneath the weight of everything he’d just learned. His hair, a stark reminder of the family’s fractured history, glowed faintly in the dim light of the room. You paused for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as you saw the tension in his posture, the way his hands were clenched into fists on his lap.

“Shoto...” you whispered, your voice trembling, the grief you had been holding back threatening to overwhelm you.

He didn’t turn at first. For a long moment, he remained still, as if frozen in place, staring at the floor. But then, slowly, he exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “You saw it too, didn’t you?” His voice was quiet, a hollow echo of the boy you had once known.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and stepped closer, your hands trembling as you reached out to him. “I did.”

His head bowed further, his hair falling over his eyes. “He’s alive. He’s been alive this whole time, and... and now he’s—” His voice faltered, and he shook his head, biting back whatever words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

You didn’t hesitate any longer. You closed the distance between you and Shoto, sinking down onto the bed beside him, your hands gently resting on his shoulder. The contact made him flinch, but he didn’t pull away. Not from you. He never had.

“I’m so sorry, Shoto,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the weight of the truth settled over both of you.

For so long, you had both believed Touya was gone, a bright flame extinguished too soon. But now, the reality was so much worse. He hadn’t died—he had become something twisted, something filled with hatred and pain. The boy you had loved, the brother Shoto had lost, was still out there, but he was no longer the person either of you had once known.

Shoto’s breath hitched, and you felt his body tense beneath your touch. “I... I don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice raw. “Why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he... why didn’t he tell us?”

The anguish in his voice was palpable, and it shattered whatever composure you had left. Tears welled in your eyes, and you moved closer, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace that you hoped could somehow shield him from the pain, even if just for a moment. “I don’t know, Shoto. I don’t know.”

He stiffened at first, his body rigid against yours, but then, slowly, the tension began to seep out of him. His fists unclenched, and before you knew it, he was clutching at you, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes as if holding on for dear life. He buried his face against your shoulder, and for the first time since you had known him, Shoto let himself cry.

Silent sobs wracked his body, his chest heaving as years of grief, confusion, and pain spilled out of him. His tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn’t care. You held him tighter, your own tears falling freely now, mixing with his as the two of you wept together.

You had always tried to be strong for him. Ever since Touya had “died,” you had stepped in, trying to fill the void, to offer him the love and support he had never gotten from his father. But now, you realized you didn’t need to be strong. Not right now. Right now, Shoto didn’t need a hero or an older sister trying to hold it together—he needed someone who understood, someone who shared in his grief.

“I thought he was dead,” Shoto choked out, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “All this time... I thought he was gone.”

“I did too,” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion. “We all did.”

His grip tightened, and his body trembled against yours. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. “He’s my brother, but... he’s done so many terrible things. I should hate him, but... I can’t.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you held him close. “I know, Shoto. I know.”

The truth was, you felt the same way. You had loved Touya with all your heart, and even now, after everything, some part of you still did. But the boy you had loved, the boy who had once dreamed of being a hero, was gone. And the man who had taken his place—the man who called himself Dabi—was a stranger, consumed by anger and hatred. It was a betrayal that cut deeper than anything you had ever known, and yet... how could you hate him? How could you hate someone who had been broken by the very people who were supposed to protect him?

“I don’t know if we can save him,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you spoke the words that had haunted you since the broadcast. “But... we can’t give up on him. Not yet.”

Shoto lifted his head then, his tear-streaked face pale and drawn, his eyes red and swollen from crying. “You still believe in him?”

You hesitated, your heart heavy with doubt. “I... I don’t know,” you admitted, the words bitter on your tongue. “But I have to try. For the boy he used to be. For the brother you lost.”

Shoto stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then, slowly, he nodded. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive him,” he said quietly, his voice raw with emotion. “But I want to understand. I need to understand why he became this way.”

You brushed a tear from his cheek, your hand lingering against his skin. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? You’re not alone in this, Shoto. You never have been.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, and for the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of something in his expression—something like hope. It was fragile, but it was there.

The two of you sat in silence for a long time after that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the weight of your grief settle between you. The world outside was still in chaos, but here, in the quiet of the hospital room, you found a moment of solace. A moment where you didn’t have to be strong, where you could just be two people, grieving the loss of someone you both loved.

Even from where you stood, the heat from the flames was unbearable. Smoke billowed into the sky, thick and suffocating, the air heavy with ash. Chaos surrounded you, the sounds of battle—a chorus of destruction—filling your ears, but all you could focus on was the fire. That familiar, haunting fire.

You had been with the civilians, guiding them to safety, trying to keep calm amidst the panic. But when you saw those blue flames rise above the villa, something inside you broke. Touya. It was him. He was here, and you couldn’t stay back any longer. Your feet had carried you forward before you even realized what you were doing, your heart racing in your chest, driven by a force you couldn’t fight.

When you reached the battlefield, it was worse than you could have imagined. The destruction was immense, flames licking at everything in their path. And in the center of it all—your breath caught in your throat—stood Touya, his once-bright eyes now burning with hatred and madness, his face twisted in a sickening grin.

“Touya!” you screamed, your voice breaking as you ran toward him.

He didn’t turn at first. His focus was on Endeavor, his father, who stood barely able to move, his body scorched, his face a mixture of pain and disbelief. But you didn’t care about Endeavor. You didn’t care about anything except the boy you had once loved—the boy who had been consumed by his own flames.

“Touya, please!” Your voice cracked as you pushed yourself closer, ignoring the searing heat, ignoring the way the smoke clawed at your lungs. “Stop! Don’t do this!”

Finally, his head turned toward you, and for a moment—just a moment—you saw something flicker in his expression. Recognition. A trace of the boy he used to be. But then it was gone, replaced by that sick, twisted smile. He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that sent chills down your spine.

“Isn’t this perfect?” he spat, his voice laced with venom as he turned his gaze back to Endeavor. “The mighty number one, brought to his knees by his own sins. This is what you deserve, old man.”

“Touya!” you screamed again, your throat raw from the smoke, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst. “Please… don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

He ignored you, his eyes fixed on Endeavor like a predator about to strike. His body was trembling now, his flames raging out of control, the heat so intense you could feel your skin burning from the proximity.

But you couldn’t let him do this. Not again. Not after everything.

“Please… come back to me,” you whispered, your voice breaking as tears filled your eyes. “Come back to me, Touya.”

He stiffened at that. For the first time, he turned fully toward you, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you, really seeing you. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and you could see the strain in his body, the way he was struggling to hold himself together. His skin was charred, his lips cracked and bleeding, and you realized with a sickening dread that he was dying. His flames were consuming him, just like they had all those years ago.

“Touya,” you sobbed, your hands trembling as you took a step closer. “Please… please don’t do this. You don’t have to hurt them. You don’t have to hurt yourself.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head, his gaze distant, almost unfocused. And then, in a voice so quiet you barely heard it over the roar of the flames, he whispered your name.

Your breath caught in your throat. He hadn’t called you by your name in years. The sound of it on his lips, broken and hollow, tore you apart. And then—your heart skipped a beat—he said it. The nickname. That stupid, silly nickname he’d given you when you were kids, when the world had been simple and full of dreams.

“Cherry…”

The world seemed to freeze around you. Cherry. He had called you that because of the cherry blossom tree you’d always meet under, the one where you dreamed of your future together. The one where he had carved your initials into the bark, sealing a promise you both thought would last forever.

The memory hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you were back there—back under the tree, laughing and planning a life you’d never have. But the boy who had made those promises was gone. In his place stood this hollow shell, burning himself alive with hatred and anger.

“Touya, please!” You sobbed harder, clutching your chest as if you could physically hold yourself together. “Come back. Please, come back to me.”

But he wasn’t listening. His body was trembling violently now, his flames growing wilder, out of control. You could see it in his eyes—the way they flickered with a madness that wasn’t his own. He was losing himself. The Touya you had known, the boy you had loved, was slipping away right before your eyes.

“I can’t stop,” he whispered, his voice strained, as if he were talking more to himself than to you. “It’s too late.”

“No!” You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face. “It’s not too late! You can still stop this, Touya! You can still—”

“I don’t want to stop,” he growled, cutting you off, his eyes blazing with fury. “This is what I was meant to do. This is what I’ve become.”

Your heart shattered. The boy who had once dreamed of being a hero was standing before you, consumed by his own hatred, by the fire that had once been his gift. And no matter how much you begged, no matter how many tears you shed, you couldn’t bring him back.

“Touya… please don’t leave me again,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, choked with grief.

He looked at you then—really looked at you—and for a brief, fleeting moment, you saw it. The boy you had loved. The boy who had once promised to marry you under the cherry blossoms, who had vowed to protect you and never let you feel the kind of pain he had witnessed in his family. But that boy was buried beneath years of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “I’m sorry, Cherry…”

And then he turned away. His flames flared one last time, roaring into the sky, and you watched in horror as he prepared to release everything. He was going to explode, to burn away what little was left of himself in a final act of destruction.

“No!” You screamed, rushing forward, reaching out to him, your heart breaking into a thousand pieces. “Touya, don’t! Please, don’t do this!”

But it was too late.

In the last moment before the flames consumed him, you heard him whisper your name one more time, and with that, the flames roared to life, brighter and hotter than ever before, threatening to consume him completely.

“No!” Without thinking, you threw yourself forward, ignoring the pain as the flames scorched your skin, burning away at you. You didn’t care. You couldn’t let him go. Not again.

Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and despite the heat, despite the agony, you held on tight. His body trembled against yours, his flames raging out of control, but you didn’t let go. You couldn’t.

“I won’t leave you again,” you sobbed, burying your face in his shoulder, the smell of burning flesh filling your senses. “I’m not leaving you, Touya. Not this time.”

His body stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to speak, to move. But you held on, your heart breaking with every second that passed, with every sob that wracked your body.

“You won’t die alone,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I swear… I’ll stay with you. I won’t leave you. Not ever.”

He didn’t say anything, but you could feel the way his body trembled against yours, the way his flames flickered as if they, too, were struggling to hold on.

And then, for the briefest moment, you felt him relax in your arms, his head leaning against yours, his breath shallow and ragged. His flames were still burning, still consuming him, but they weren’t as wild now. There was something almost peaceful in the way he held onto you, like he was finally letting go of the hatred that had consumed him for so long.

But you knew. You knew that it wasn’t enough. That no matter how tightly you held on, no matter how many promises you made, you couldn’t stop what was coming.

He was going to die. And this time, you couldn’t save him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice so faint you could barely hear it.

Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, your heart shattering into a million pieces. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ve always loved you, Touya.”

And then, just like that, he was gone... and so were you.

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