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etherealyoungk · 15 days ago

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crush on you | choi seungcheol

SUMMARY: in which seungcheol is completely smitten by you and will do anything to hangout with you, even if it means eating spicy food.

PAIRING: seungcheol x reader

THEMES: acquaintances, friends to lovers

WARNINGS: flirting, fluff, just seungcheol being down bad for you.

WORDCOUNT: 2593

A/N: i just love seungcheol so much <3

the warm aroma of freshly ground coffee fills the air as you work behind the counter, expertly crafting yet another latte. seungcheol casually leans over the counter, his gaze fixed on you.

"are you free later after work?" he asks, his voice light. he seemed more interested in your response than in the coffee you were preparing.

you glance up, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "don’t you have better things to do? you’re always hanging out here. seriously, i’ll have to kick you out if you don’t order anything, it's store policy, sorry", you say, not bothering to look at him.

seungcheol chuckles softly, unfazed by your mock threat. "please, i know you secretly love having me around," he says with a grin that could rival the sun for brightness.

you snort, shaking your head as you continue to steam milk and fill cups, preparing orders. "yeah right, you’re a pain in the ass actually, go hang out somewhere else", you tell, which only makes him chuckle more.

it had become something of a routine—seungcheol dropping by the café, engaging in playful bickering, and sometimes even dragging out his visits just to be around you, but you enjoyed it. you enjoyed his company even though you sometimes didn't want to admit it.

you’d known seungcheol for almost a year now, having met him through your mutual friend, and as fate would have it, he also went to the same university as you, which meant you crossed paths with him more often than not.

"why?", you ask after a moment, looking up again, meeting his big, brown, sparkling eyes.

"just asking, i thought we could grab a bite to eat later, doesn't smelling all this make coffee and pastries all evening make you hungry?", he asks. you pause, a sigh escaping your lips as you consider his offer. because he was right. the only downfall of working in a cafe was the constant smell of pastries and cakes wafting in the air and it always made you so hungry.

"i guess we could, i don't have anything planned", you admit and seungcheol's face seems to light up at your response "great", he says.

seungcheol waits until you finish your shift and now you're both walking down the road, the evening slowly turning into night.

"what do you wanna eat?", he asks, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockes as he glances over at you.

you tilt your head to the side, thinking. "tteokbokki", you say slowly. "i want to eat tteokbokki", you say. so, that's how you both end up at at a small restaurant - the one you always went to when you craved tteokbokki. you order the food and you're waiting, and seungcheol kindly pours some water in a glass, placing it in front of you.

"you haven't eaten here before have you? this place really has the best tteokbokki in the area. i've tried all the tteokbokki in this area and this place really makes it the best!", you explain.

seungcheol's smile softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. it was clear he was more amused by your enthusiasm than anything else. "you’re talking like you're a tteokbokki expert," he teases.

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest in mock offence. "of course i am. who do you take me for?", you say making him smile wider, his dimple peeking out and your heart does a little flip at the sight.

the food arrives and the rich, spicy red sauce glistens. the scent of the perfectly cooked rice cakes mixed with the spicy sauce makes your mouth water. your eyes light up with anticipation and you can't wait. you grab a piece and pop it into your mouth, only to wince as the heat catches you off guard.

"ahhh, it's hot!" you exclaim, fanning your mouth dramatically.

seungcheol is quick to react, handing you the cup of water. you take a grateful gulp of water, trying to cool your burning mouth. "slow down, the food isn't going anywhere", he says and you nod.

"aren't you eating?", you ask after a moment, as you take another rice cake, blowing on it this time before putting it in your mouth. you watch as seungcheol picks up a tteokbokki and carefully takes a bite out of it, chewing carefully.

"what do you think? it's good right?", you ask, leaning forward slightly and he nods. "yeah, it's good", he says, putting the rest of the rice cake in his mouth and chewing, before taking a sip of water, trying to hide his nervousness as he picks up another piece of tteokbokki. he had never told you, but spicy food wasn’t exactly his forte. you notice his discomfort and look at him with concern. “is it too spicy?”, you ask.

"no, it's fine, it's really good", he says immediately, taking another bite as he looks at you. though he was struggling to keep up with the heat, he didn't want to admit it to you, not right now. so instead, he took slow measured bites, each one followed by a quick sip of water and despite the heat, seungcheol kept eating, determined.

he really didn't know when he came like this - eating spicy tteokbokki even though he couldn't handle spicy food. but ever since he met you, he started doing things he would never do before. before he met you, his mornings were a blur of snoozed alarms and missed classes. but now, he woke up early with a smile, eager to get to campus. the reason? you. seeing you in class and catching your eyes across the lecture hall or seeing you on campus, that made every early morning worth it. and then there were the café shifts. he’d become a regular, only because it meant he could spend time with you. and now, eating spicy tteokbokki even though his mouth was on fire right now - all because he had a crush on you.

after eating, you both walk to the bus stop, the cool night air refreshing as you walk. "gosh i'm so full, that tteokbokki always hits the spot when i'm craving spicy food", you say.

as you reach the bus stop and the bus pulls up and he turns to you with a serious yet caring expression. “text me when you get home, okay?”

you laugh softly and give him a playful nudge. “so overprotective,” you tease, stepping onto the bus. you glance back and wave at him with a grin, your heart feeling warm from the simple, sweet gesture.

when you're waking back home, you happen to run into seungkwan, your friend whom you met seungcheol through. "seungkwan!", you call out and he lifts his head up, looking at you.

"yn! what are you doing here?", he asks. "i'm on my way home", you say. "i was just about to head somewhere for dinner, do you wanna join me?", he asks.

"oh, i actually just ate some tteokbokki not to long ago", you say and he nods. "the usual spot", he asks and you nod. "yeah, that's the best place. i took seungcheol there today, he had some too", you add.

seungkwan's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "seungcheol?" he repeats as if he needed to be sure he’d heard you right.

"yeah, i'm pretty stuffed actually, i ended up eating most of it, but seungcheol did eat some of it", you say and seungkwan seems to have a realisation and laughs softly to himself. "seungcheol ate the spicy tteokbokki?" he asks again, disbelief in his tone.

you nod puzzled. "yeah, why?"

a smirk spreads across seungkwan’s face. "wow, there’s something wrong with him. he can’t handle spicy food at all, and you’re telling me he willingly went to eat spicy tteokbokki with you?", seungkwan asks, baffled.

you furrow your brows, taken aback by this new information. "he can’t handle spicy food?"

seungkwan laughs softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "yep, he’s a bit of a wimp when it comes to spice. his stomach is definitely not going to forgive him for that, poor guy".

"well, i guess i’ll see you around. get home safe," seungkwan adds after a moment, offering you a wave before heading off.

you are left alone, you mind going over he new revelation about seungcheol. he couldn't handle spicy food? if that was true, why had he agreed to eat tteokbokki with you? why hadn’t he mentioned anything? why didn't he tell you?

the next week when you see seungcheol, he's his usual bright self, smiling when he sees you and following you around and once again, hanging out at the cafe with you. he's sitting right up at front at the first table near the counter, his eyes fixed on you as he watches you make more coffee orders. he looks at you with almost a lovesick gaze, like he can't get enough of you.

"seungcheol", you finally speak once the rush seems to slow down and you are winding down, your shift coming to an end.

"yes?", he says, standing up and leaning against the counter again, waiting for you to continue.

"wanna grab some tteokbokki again?", you ask. "sure", he agrees.

so that's how you're sitting at your usual tteokbokki spot again with seungcheol. the tteokbokki arrives and you both eat and seungcheol eats some too, though he doesn't show any signs that it is too spicy for him. but after what seungkwan said, you know better.

you both are walking back after eating and you glance at seungcheol. "are you okay?", you ask and he looks at you. "yeah, why?", he asks.

"wasn't the tteokbokki too spicy for you?", you ask again and he shakes his head, denying it. "no, it was really good, just right", he says. and that's when you can't take it anymore. you stop in your tracks, seungcheol stopping a few steps ahead of you before he turns around.

"why'd you stop?", he asks, coming closer. you look up at him and do the only thing that seems to come to your mind - you smack his arm, hard.

"OWW", he exclaims, clutching his arm as he looks at you, utterly confused and also worried. "what was that for?", he asks, rubbing his arm as he continues to look at you.

"that's for lying to me", you tell and seungcheol furrows his brows. "seungkwan told me everything, i know you can't handle spicy food, but yet you were eating that deathly spicy tteokbokki for me? you're such an idiot", you say, digging into your bag and pulling out a bottle of banana milk.

"here, this might help ease your stomach a bit", you add quietly, shoving it in his hands before you continue walking, leaving seungcheol behind. he looks down at the banana milk you had handed him, then back up at you. he catches up to you, falling in step next to you. he really doesn't know what to say.

"are you mad?", he asks softly and you glance at him. "i'm mad because you put yourself through that and you didn't even tell me. you could have just told me you can't eat spicy food", you say, your expression softening a bit.

"i just wanted to experience it with you", he says, hoping he could redeem himself. "i thought it would be worth it, just to see you smile", he says.

you look at him, and the sincerity in his eyes stirs something in your chest. there'sna moment of silence as you process his words and the evening seemed to pause, the hustle of the city fading into the background. seungcheol shifts nervously, his fingers fidgeting with the edges of his sleeve as he tried to think about how to navigate this tender moment. his eyes, usually so confident, now held a vulnerable gleam.

“i guess i was trying to use that as an excuse to spend more time with you” he begins softly and he pauses, his gaze dropping to the floor before he looks back up, meeting your eyes with a mixture of apprehension and sincerity.

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but i really like spending time with you. even in small ways, like this... it means a lot to me.”

he took a deep breath as if drawing strength from the air between you both before he speaks again. "i like you yn, i really like you", he confesses, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

your heart skips a beat at his confession and his cheeks are slightly flushed, and he looked at you with a hopeful, almost earnest expression, as if he was bracing himself for your reaction. as you took in his words, you could no longer deny the affection that had quietly grown within you for seungcheol. it would be a lie to say you weren't fond of him, you liked spending time with him too, liked his presence, liked him.

“i like you too,” you finally whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. the words felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders, and the relief in his expression was palpable. seungcheol's eyes brightened as he took in your response. there was something profoundly sweet about the way he looked at you, like he would do anything for you.

you watch as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, before breaking out into a full-blown smile. it was one of those smiles that seemed to light up the entire room, making his eyes sparkle as his lips curved upwards, and a deep dimple appeared on his cheek, a tiny but unmistakable mark of his joy and happiness.

"that's good", is all he finally says, looking at you. "good?", you question and he nods bashfully.

"yeah, because i'm sort of head over heels for you already. so if you like me back, then that's really good", he says, emphasising his words.

his words are so sincere and the way he says them makes your heart swell with warmth. the casual but gentle way he admitted his feelings, combined with his adorable smile and that charming dimple; it didn't make his confession feel heavy. it felt right.

“so you're really head over heels for me huh?” you tease gently.

"i wouldn’t have it any other way", he says giving you a wink and making you smile, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

as you both continue to stroll down the softly lit street, the evening air is cool and refreshing. you glance at seungcheol, who’s still holding a bottle of banana milk that you had given him, but now it’s slightly crumpled from being clutched tightly, and the sight of it makes you chuckle.

“drink it up soon,” you say, gesturing toward the bottle with a small nod. “your stomach must be in a bit of a war right now".

seungcheol quietly pokes the banana milk with the straw and sips on it. he bumps his shoulder against yours gently, his gaze full of affection when you turn to look at him.

"want a sip?", he offers but shake your head and you pull out another banana milk bottle from your bag instead, showing it to him. "i see you came prepared", he says.

"yeah, i had to neutralise the damage on your poor stomach", you joke and the sweet sound of his chuckle fills the air, his dimple deepening as he grins wide and looks at you.

god, how he was hopelessly in love with you.

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yandere-wishes · 3 months ago

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✮⋆˙Red Hood and The Big Bad Wolf ˙⋆✮

⭒⌒★ Yandere! Jason Todd x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓕𝓪𝓲𝓻𝔂 𝓣𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓐𝓤 ♡ ｡゜

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

*ੈ✩‧₊ Thinking about how similar Red Hood is to Little Red Riding Hood, not just in name but also in practice. At their core, they are both things, red things, that survive. Reborn from the lugubre maws of death, forced to live another day, carrying baskets weaved of anguish and instability.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Jason keeps the old picture book tucked in his jacket pocket. He can't quite remember where he found the fickle thing. Can't remember why he chose such an evanescent tale to cling to.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Or maybe he does, maybe he knows exactly why he runs his fingers over his inside pocket after every fight, just to make sure the eccentric fable is still in place. Maybe it's because he understands Red Riding Hood. Knows what she's been through, what it feels like to have your innocence stripped like skin being torn from bones. To be killed and revived all in the same breath. Maybe it's because he wants to know what happens next. What happens when Little Red learns to breathe again? He wants to ask her, beg her to tell him. To be the solution to all his problems.

*ੈ✩‧₊ "How do you swallow the trauma? What do you do with the phantom pain of your heart's reanimation? How do you make the darkness go away? Did you come back the same?

*ੈ✩‧₊ There is only one thing that makes them differ. One fundamental little thing...

*ੈ✩‧₊ Jason doesn't mind the wolf. Pretty pup prowling about. He blames it on his upbringing. He'd been taught to fall in love with such wicked things. From as early as he can remember he's watched bats chase cats across gargoyle-littered rooftops. Watched pretty girls throw themselves at bleached killers. That's why he's quick to be enarmed with the new villain terrorizing the Gotham streets. The girl in a wolf mask, planting bombs in jewelry stores and biting off her victim's ears.

*ੈ✩‧₊ There is nothing scary about the big bad wolf, Red Hood thinks, as he re-reads the page where the wolf and girl meet. Why fear pain when you've been to the end of the road? Why fear something when you're acquainted with its ending?

*ੈ✩‧₊ "Shouldn't wolves only come out when there's a full moon?" He swings in from the skyline, ironclad military boots lodging into your stomach pushing you back into a glass display case. "That's werewolves you idiot" you mumble out of breath, glass shards pocking at your spine. The ticking of your newest explosive rings melodically through the air. He's quick to cut the wires, to defuse your toy without a second thought. Professional you think bitterly as you pounce on his back looking for an opening of flesh to sink your teeth into.

*ੈ✩‧₊ The thing they don't tell you about dying is that you always come back wrong. Primordially, spiritually, the person who closes their eyes, is never the same one who opens them again.

But Red Riding Hood was lucky, her story ended before she realized that dreadful thing. Jason has to deal with it every day, the reverberating scars, the colorless world that fractures and breaks should he let his mind wander astray. The fact that his heart only ever truly beats when he sees the fluffy ears of your cowl and that damn bloodthirsty smirk.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason Todd who's only brave enough to call it love after you stake a knife through his heart. The bulletproof vest and armor keep the damage away, but he can see the murderous intent shimmering in your eyes. It's only then that he pulls you down by the back of your neck. Lips to lips, a messy clash of anathema and apprehension. Your teeth gnaw at his lips while his tongue composes ballads on the roof of your mouth.

*ੈ✩‧₊ He wonders if Little Red ever went back for the wolf. If she ever dares kiss him with all the pain and anguish she has left in her body. Nicking her tongue on his razor-sharp teeth. Guiding his claws to ghost over her frail body. He wonders if the wolf can even hurt her. There's so little left that can hurt you when you've already felt the end.

*ੈ✩‧₊ He knows you stalk him, follow him even during the day. Sometimes he pulls you into the back alleyway. Knife at your throat as he soaks up your ethereal face. Mask on, mask off. In the end, you'd have found out anyway. His hands squeeze at your hips, needing the flesh, leaving his essence over your body. His lips danced over the back of your neck, biting tenderly at the apex of your shoulder.

*ੈ✩‧₊ You seem to like it when his knife cuts deep. When his punches crack bone. When his boots crush you into the pavement. You throw your head back and laugh, witty little threats spilling from your mouth. So this is love he thinks as your claws rake over his biceps ripping the muscle like ribbons, rummaging through the blood and tissue in search of bone. "Poor little puppy" he mocks "looking for a bone to chew on". "Shut up you tomato-looking freak" you scream as his teeth sink into your jaw, crunching of bone.

*ੈ✩‧₊ He thinks you look gorgeous when you're irritated, he thinks you're beautiful when your bloodthirst seeps through the anger. He bites back a moan as your knee nests into his gut.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Did Little Red ever talk to her mother again? Or did she hold a grudge, haunted by her betrayal of sending her into the woods unarmed, heartbroken that she never came looking for her? Jason's thoughts pound inside his head, picture-book illustrations flash before him of Little Red pushing her mother away, of tears streaming down her face, screaming, screaming, screaming. He hisses as his lacerations burn. Hand suspended, pushing down the urge to knock on his father's door. Bruce would know what to do...he always knows what to do. It's such a childish notion, he clings to. Even now, even after he was killed and left un-avenged Jason still wholeheartedly believes in the notion that Daddy will fix everything...He's halfway to the entrance gate when Bruce alls after him, cadence thick with grief and ache. Jason doesn't turn back, he runs and runs and runs.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason who crashes through your apartment window. Pushes you back onto the bed and lies next to you as you squirm and scream. He wraps his arms protectively around your waist and nuzzles into the crux of your neck. Mumbling Little Red Riding Hood's tale until you fall asleep. "How did You know I love the story?" you ask, the next morning to the empty half of your bed. Last night's tremulous dread still laying heavy on your corpse.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason who lays on his window seal, watching as the sun pokes through Granny Red's face. It's funny isn't it, in such a twisted way didn't he also die in his grandfather's house? Only to be reborn while he watched? Didn't the same thing happen to Little Red?

*ੈ✩‧₊ That night Jason dream he's was walking through the grass, headed for the forest behind Wayne manner. He's trapped inside his jejune body, the body of a boy wonder. Clutching a basket with a crowbar inside as dread dances in his stomach. His old red cape taut around his neck, suffocating, skin-tight. He's forgotten how to breathe, puerile fear of those ghoulish old trees clawing at his body. Through the dimness, through lose rays that escape the moon's greed he's able to spot you. Weaving through the bushes and trees, stalking closer and closer. He doesn't know whether to meet you halfway or retreat. Frozen like a robin being pounced on by a sickly smiling cat. His eyes meet yours, right before you attack.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason who misses you, when he doesn't catch you on patrol, of course, he misses you, it's hard not to miss a broken bone. Hard to feel the sting of your wounds and forget who put them there.

*ੈ✩‧₊ Yandere!Jason finally realizes that he just can't bear to be away from you. This love, this mania, it's all for you. He needs you. He's got you corned, the end of a chase. You smile, all teeth and games, "You're pretty when sulk" you whisper, tracing claws up his chest, digging into the space between each ridge. "Oh really? How can you tell when I got this helmet on?" You laugh, coy and flirtish "I just do" you shrug. Pulling his helmet up, lips ghosting over his in a mockery of a kiss. Jason pushes forward, entraping your lips against his. Lost in intimacy he's quick to grab you, to drag you back to his apartment, to lock the doors and throw away the key. To keep the big bad wolf where she belongs, right next to Little Red Riding Hood.

🎀I feel like every Batson deserves a villainess to fall in love with. Let's call this one WolfWoman. TBH I feel like I want to write more for her in the future.

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witchofhimring · 11 months ago

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Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and claiming Cannibal

This is sort of an offshoot of my Being the Daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen where Reader claims Cannibal instead of Tessarion. Thanks to @katiekatluvz for giving me the idea! Sorry for the long wait I finally have time to write after exams!

Minor Rhaenyra x Reader (platonic)

This happens before Aemond looses his eye.

This was dangerous, possibly suicidal. But after Aegon's comments earlier you could not take it anymore. It was another forced family gathering where Viserys tried to get his eldest child's family to sit with his second wive's. Things started out okay, there was eating and the occasional conversation. You were merely concentrating on just finishing your meal and getting the hell out. Everything fell apart, with it simple being an innocent comment made by Helaena. She had simply said; "When will you get a dragon Y/n?" Oh poor Helaena. She had meant well but of course Aegon had to stick his nose in matters not his own. "Maybe you would like a pig. Call it the pink dread." Aegon threw you a nasty look. Face heating, you shyly looked down, avoiding his gaze. Of course Aegon would find it funny to make fun of other peoples misfortune. "Shove off." Jaecery's snarled at Aegon. Aegon was not done, even when you had gone back to eating. "I guess one day you shall have a dragon. After all, you are a very strong girl." A thick blanket of tension blanketed the door. Everyone, even those at the other end, heard. Helaena's breath hitched, a low exasperated sound escaped Alicent. Aemond snorted. Your cheeks burned with hurt and shame. "Some of us burn hotter than others." Aemond added.

A fist slammed on the table. Visery's, despite being well past his prime, struck the table with enough force that it quivered. Even your mother, normally so vocal, had fallen silent. "You will not utter such slanders in this house." He snarled. At that moment Visery's did not remotely look like the loving grandfather you knew. Visery's glanced at his wife before ordering Aegon to his study. Hanging your head, you ran out of the room, ignoring your mother's cries.

Your door was locked, barring anyone from entering. Even your beloved mother. As the hour grew late there was silence outside. Night did nothing to calm the raging heat in your heart. Of course Aegon thought he was better, riding on oh-so-great Sunfyre and his silver Targaryen hair. And who was Aemond to laugh at you! He didn't have a dragon either!

Here you were, deprived of Targaryen looks and dragonless. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Outside a roar echoed across the water. Wiping the remaining tears you opened the window. A gust of wind nearly blew you back. Bellow the sea surrounding Driftmark thundered, crashing against rocks. Far ahead was a great black lump, so dark that even against the sky it was easily seen. You would have thought it was Vhaegar except that Laena and Daemon were in Pentos. Beyond a stretch of sand were the dragon caves. If one exited the gaves and ran across the sand they could reach the dragons. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre were snoozing in their cave. Vermithor and Silverwing were back at Kingslanding. There were others, of course. You entertained the idea it might be Meyles until the dragon roared once more. It's screech was nothing like you had heard. It sounded like metal being scrapped together. Yet instead of being afraid, an idea came.

Any sane person would have thought twice. Then again, Targaryens were not exactly known for their sanity. Waiting till the early morning, you slipped out. When the sun was just pocking over the horizon that Driftmark was quietest. The guards would be tired and few would be up. Down the halls you slunk, nearing the exit. There was a small side door leading to stairs. These stairs took one right down to the courtyard. Passing a pair of sleepy guards you slipped behind a pair of barrels. Now it was just down the steps. That was when you heard a noise.

A familiar drawl could be heard. Great. Aegon was awake. Quickly you ducked behind a pair of barrels by the door. He stumbled inside and right past you. "I should have kicked him." Once he was gone you looked left and right. Then came the hard part.

The court yard was empty. Not even your father Laenor would be out training. Beyond was the gate, with two guards standing sentry. If you could slip past them, and across the sand, then you could take a small passage that lead to the dragon cave.

It was down to luck. The guards would need to be distracted for long enough. Fortunately, there was luck on your side. The walls supporting the gate were made of stone. And they just so happened to be uneven pieces of stone. Meaning all you had to do was climb up. The guards were so focused on the other side that you could get up without being spotted. Small hands grasped the rocks and you climbed. It occurred to you at that moment wearing a nightgown was likely not a good idea. But it was too late to turn back.

The salty air whipped your hair. Reaching the top you had a view of the caves beyond. There were soldiers guarding but none were looking up. There were four you could see. And now that you had reached the top there was yet another problem. You had no plan other than wait and hope. It was poor planning strategy. Though in your defense you were ten. The sun was rising higher in the sky. Would you even be able to sneak out!?

"Change!" A call nearly caused you to jump up. Looking over the side you saw the guards marching away. Taking the chance you jumped down. The force in which your feet hit the ground made them sting. "Hey!" To your horror you saw guards rushing toward. Shit. Taking a deep breath you plucked up the courage and ran. Having a head start helped. But these were full grown men, and running in sand was hard. The only thing on your side was that they were covered in armor. It meant you were able to reach the dragon cave that remained unguarded. It was was left unguarded for a reason. Because none would ever dream of challenging The Cannibal. For a moment you looked at the dark passage, and then looked back. You could hear them calling out. "I've come this far." And with that, you headed in.

The first few steps plunged you into pitch black. The air tasted stale and the rocks threatened to rip open your feet. Most dragon caves were well maintained, but even dragon-keepers would not dare go near this one. A few steps later and a few crack in the walls gave light. Step by step you walked forward. Now you could smell it and it nearly made you gag. But you had come so far that to turn back now was not an option. You heard a deep rumbling and stopped. Even the foundations of this cave seemed to hum. When the noise stopped you proceeded. Ahead you saw the tunnel end. Finally you met The Cannibal.

Despite the dragons infamy few could describe it. In fact many did not survive such an encounter. And it was enormous. Only slightly smaller that Vhagar, The Cannibal turned his head and mad poisonous green eyes met yours. Dragon eyes had always fascinated you. They held this terrifying imperious gaze. But when you looked into The Cannibal's all you saw was a wild raging fire. You had heard of Wildfire, created by the lords of Old Valyria to mimic dragon fire. While you had never seen wild fire, you thought his eyes might be close enough. Dragon scales came in all colours, but black was rare. The only other dragon known to possess such a colour was Balerion the Black Dread. Smooth pitch black scales glistened in the sunlight. His great jaw had uncountable razor sharp teeth larger than you. The large tale swung around and The Cannibals body was facing you. Then he opened his mouth and fire curled at the throat.

"I will die." In that moment you felt fear and rage. You were as good as the rest of them. Why should you not have a dragon! “Dohaerās, Cannibal! Lykirī!” Those were the only words you could say. Something akin to fire swelled within you at that moment. A defiance bordering on madness. The fire in The Cannibal's seemed ready to burst forward. "Lykirī!" You thought those would be your last words. It was not fear you felt in that moment, but the desire to prove something "At least I tried, like a true Targaryen." The blast of white hot flame which would encase and disintegrate your body never came. Your eyes met his. The Cannibal was looking down at you with his imperious glance. Was he not going to burn you?

That was when you heard voices. It seemed the guards had decided to go in. Better to perish in dragon fire than whatever your mother might do to them for failing to protect her only daughter. Then you stepped forward. Now was not the time to be afraid. Already you had braved possible dragon fire. Over rock and bits of bone you stepped, ignoring the stinging in your feet. From The Cannibal was a ladder attached to a harness. "So The Cannibal once had a rider." At that moment you did not ponder too much. They said The Cannibal had never been ridden before. But since his very being was a mystery you supposed it was possible.

Scrambling up the rough ropes you desperately hurried to the top. "There she is! She's...she's on the dragon!" The Cannibal jerked back nearly sending you flying off. "Daor!" You ordered loud as possible. To your astonishment the dragon listened. Reaching the top you fastened the harness, securing you in place. The Cannibal seemed to know what you wanted, for the moment you were settled the dragon gave a great huff and speed down the corridor. Every jut of his muscle sent you roughly inching forward. "This is much more uncomfortable than I thought." You always imagined dragon riding as a smooth ride. But now you realized that was untrue. Then what would flying be like? You barely had any time to comprehend anything before sunlight was visible. The Cannibal then picked up speed. Suddenly The Cannibal launched into the air with a great jerk. Had you not been harnessed in you would have fallen. His leathery wing beat the air as the ground became smaller.

You would have smiled if it had not been for the fact your voice has disappeared. The thrill, terror and excitement nearly paralyzed you. The Cannibal was not going up smoothly. The dragon seemed to be doing his best in order to shake you off. Despite this the harness was well made, and thank the gods. You had just enough sense to seize the reins and pull at them. It did nothing to slow The Cannibal down but you were suddenly possessed with a renewal in courage. Sitting straight in your saddle there was suddenly a level of control you felt. The Cannibal must have felt it, for he leveled himself. Soaring above the clouds you finally looked down. "We really are close to the Gods." You muttered.

You flew several laps in the sky. It was less about commands and more about the connection between dragon and rider. You had to remain in control of your emotions. Not being used to dragon riding, your legs started to cramp. Deciding it was time to descend you ordered The Cannibal down. Surprisingly graceful, The Cannibal started to climb down. His cave became more clear. A crowd was gathering outside of the cave. You were not too surprised since they probably thought you dead. With a great thud The Cannibal landed sending sand into the air.

"Y/n!" You had never heard your mother scream like that. Practically leaping off the rope ladder you flew into your mothers arms. "Oh Gods Y/n!" Rhaenyra clutched you close with shaking arms. You mother who was usually so indomitable and strong was shaking and weeping. Her arms held you in a vise grip. "Y/n...never do that again!" Rhaenyra had broken apart, gripping you by the arms. Normally you would bust into tears and apologize. But a fire was ablaze in your chest was burning bright. Taking your mother by the hand you lead her to The Cannibal. Rhaenyra looked hesitant but seeing your determination encouraged her. Reaching out you placed a hand on The Cannibals warm scales. "Touch him." Rhaenyra's fingertips grazed the dragon. Then she steadied and placed her hand directly on the dragon. The Cannibal crooned and for the first time seemed something close to calm.

Looking back you saw your brothers, aunt and uncles. There was pride such as you had never seen on your brother's faces. Your eyes met Aegon's and Aemond's, for the first time you did not look away. This time it was them who looked away from your defiant eyes. You were Y/n Velaryon. Daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Rider of Cannibal. And fire dwelt within your veins like any blood of the dragon.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Taglist:

@katiekatluvz

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader imagine #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader

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avocado-writing · 6 months ago

Text

Kinktober #6

6. A/B/O Heats or Ruts // Sadism-Masochism // Anonymous Sex (Old Man Logan x Reader)

You see him at the bar most nights that you’re there, nursing a whiskey and keeping to himself. On the occasion he deigns to lift his gaze from his drink you always feel it on you, hot and heavy and oh so aware of every movement you make.

You like it. Your skin lights up beneath him, a little static dancing over you where his eyes settle. But every time you turn back to your fiancé and his dull friends and try to be interested in a conversation they have no intention of including you in.

Why do you suffer through it? Well, things have been this way for so long now that you don’t know what they’d look like were they to change. Grit your jaw and bear it, it’s only the rest of your life, after all.

The man closes the gap the first time you enter the establishment alone. You swig down your beer, bitter and nasty but the cheapest thing they sell, grimacing at each hoppy mouthful. After a long moment he pulls back the stool in order to settle in next to you at the bar and you’re intensely aware of the size of him.

“No boyfriend tonight?” he rumbles, broad fingers raising his glass to his lips.

“Fiancé,” you correct half-heartedly. Is he still your fiancé? It was a pretty vicious fight you got in not two hours ago, and right now the ring on your finger feels like a shackle. He picks up on your unease and chuckles, and oh, it is a lovely and rich sound.

“Mmm, sure.”

The two of you lapse back into silence, nursing your drinks.

“We got into an argument,” you confess when you feel like more words are necessary. The stranger cocks a brow.

“He seems like an asshole.”

“What would you know?” you ask, desperate to defend for some reason. Pride, perhaps. He finally fixes you with a look, sunken hazel eyes boring into your soul. You are transfixed.

“Seen the way he treats you when you’re out together. Like you’re an annoyance. A second thought. Doesn’t deserve you, sweetheart.”

When his warm hand moves to rest on your thigh you don’t make any effort to shake it free. You let it stay there, possessive. You tap your nails on the pocked bar and consider his words.

The stranger moves in, closing the stale air between the two of you. His breath is warm on the shell of your ear as he speaks, gravelly velvet.

“Does he even make you come, honey?”

You should throw your drink in his face and slap him. Instead you feel your cheeks get warm.

“No,” you confess, a whisper. The stranger looks quietly smug at knowing this before you could even voice it. He swallows down the last of his liquor before standing, holding the hand that was on your thigh out to you as an invitation.

“Let me take care of you.”

You eye your beer, decide not to finish it, and take his hand.

“Can I get your name?”

“Maybe if you like what I do to you,” he states and your cunt floods.

He leads you out to a limo in the empty parking lot, sliding the key inside the door and holding it open for you. You cock your head to the side, silently asking a question.

“The driver,” he chuckles. Fuck. Yeah, okay, after hearing that laugh, he can do whatever he damn well likes to you. You’re going to fuck this limo driver in the backseat and he’s going to make you forget your fiancé’s goddamn name.

The moment you enter into the limo he’s upon you. The door slams behind him as he holds your head in his hands, bringing your mouth to his for a rough kiss, claiming you as his. You let him as his beard scratches you. His tongue swipes against your own, hot and tasting of rich liquor, and his hands go for your jeans. You buck up into his touch and let him strip you without complaint, let him explore every inch of your skin he unveils. His hands are calloused but tender, caressing each new part of you he unveils, and when he touches between your legs? Oh, heaven. Heaven.

Your clothes thrown across the backseat and him still fully in his suit he fucks you with his fingers, one hand pistoning in and out of you, the other rubbing rough circles on your clit. Your orgasm hits you with such force that it’s like a freight train - your head thrown back and eyes blurry with tears and stars as you squirt up the length of his thick forearm. Another one of those delicious chuckles as he licks his fingers clean.

“Did you know you could do that, baby?”

You shake your head, desperate for a repeat of it. The stranger doesn’t leave you hanging. He wrestles with his fly just enough to free his cock, hard and red and dropping with need for you. The size of it is something to behold but you don’t get a chance to adjust before he’s lining himself up and slowly pushing inside. Each inch is a gorgeous stretch that takes your breath away, his hand stroking your hair as he talks you through it.

“That’s it, sweetheart. There we go. You’re being so fucking sweet for me, hm? Letting me fuck you in the back of my limo like this… you’re dirtier than anyone’s ever imagined…”

When he reaches his lips to yours you can taste the orgasm he kissed off of his own fingers. You moan into his mouth as he starts to move, the glorious length of him the pinpoint of your entire universe. Pulling out to the tip, slamming back home, whispering strings of filthy praise in your ear. All you can do is hang on and trust him to take care of you, the way he has once already.

It isn’t long before that sweet pressure builds up again. His cockhead brushes the inside of your walls and you come all over his cock, drenching the front of his suit in a way he looks pleased by. His grip tightens as he finishes inside of you, spilling inside of you hot and thick. You feel utterly claimed. You have been ruined for anyone else.

He helps you sit up and redress, offering you an unopened bottle of water. A moment of silence passes as the smell of sex settles into the leather seats.

“I’ll drive you home…”

Your grip on his forearm is vice-like.

“Take me back to yours,” you beg. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know his name, you don’t need to. He’s taken better care of you in one night than your fiancé has in years.

He softens at the pleading in your voice, those hazel eyes tender.

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay.”

#my writing #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #wolverine fanfiction #mcu fandom #avo's kt 24 #kt 24 #Old man Logan x reader #Old man Logan imagine

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demigoddessqueens · 8 months ago

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Hello may I request a reader whose a star druid and that whenever they're in battle they call upon the constellation to fight with them or become the embodiment of the constellation as they're willing to do whatever it take to protect the one they love. Can it be with Bells Hells or Vox Machina or Even both.

Yeah I’ll give the Bells some love 💕

Masterlist 11

Imogen

She may be at a standpoint with her abilities, coming to grips with her arcane heritage, but she feels inspired in seeing yours at work, the entire forces of the Celestials at your disposal and the unapologetic nature you wield it with

Laudna

Summoning hounds and the dark ichor magic is her trademark but she is in awed fascination at seeing how your magic works, as if it wasn’t obvious enough her ichor hound gets along so well with your constellation hunting one

Orym

He’s felt so down, so lost and seeing you in your element at your strongest is still a bit of comfort to his downtrodden heart, there is still the bits of hope that remain (that it won’t end in tears and more destruction) as you summon the literal heavens to protect him

Dorian

He’s heard of such of your kind before in story books that he would sneak away to read with Cyrus, to see you summon these creations fills him with bittersweet pride at who he used to be

Fearne

A witch in her own right, she’s confident of her skills and is never short in giving you praise as well. Always looking for an excuse to be near you and/or trace the silver dots and lines on your skin

Braius

He may be a paladin of the Hells but he’s completely awestruck when you form into one of the Hunter constellations, looking for any excuse

FCG

The automaton was wary of his powers, given how strong the surges can become but he feels a kinship with you because of how you both realize you’re stronger than what you get credit for

Chetney

He is one of the biggest cheerleaders of the party when he sees you using your powers, sometimes even suggesting if you can create a “werewolf” one for him

Ashton

The Genasi just lays it on thick with the compliments towards you, asking constant questions about your different constellations, how long you have been around, etc.

#critical role #inbox requests #critical role x reader #bell’s hells #headcanons #braius doomseed #my writing #imogen temult #laudna #chetney pock o'pea #orym of the air ashari #dorian storm #fcg critical role #ashton greymoore #fearne calloway #cr c3 #cr campaign 3 #cr campaign three #writeblr

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afro-hispwriter · 10 months ago

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Hearts on Fire

Tom Glynn- Carney x reader, Ewan Mitchell x reader, Glytchell x reader(eventually... maybe)

Summary- falling for either of your co-stars was NOT on your bucket list

Warnings- single mom!reader, both boys are single, mentions of past pregnancy

wc-1.1k

A/n- I don't know exactly how sets work but I'm pretty sure actors all meet each other way before the first day, so everyone knows the baby already

It was like yesterday that you were still auditioning for the role at 9 months pregnant. Now it was the first day on set and you had nobody to take care of your six-month-old son. Your cousin could only stay with you for so long and you were no way in hell leaving your baby with a stranger.

There was a bus that would pick up cast members but you weren't sure how they would feel about you bringing your baby on the bus and then to set.

But a call wouldn't hurt. And it didn't. Your assistant made sure something would be there. The set managers were more than happy to accommodate you as long as you brought everything needed.

You got a text from Olivia that they were close by you instantly gathered up your things and put the playpen outside, along with the baby bag.

"Okay Miles, you're coming with mommy to work today." You picked up the chubby baby put him in the travel car seat and walked outside just as the bus pulled up. You waved and shut your door and locked it. You bent down grabbed the playpen strap and swung it over your shoulder, it clashed against your backpack making you stumble. You grabbed the bag strap and started hauling it all towards the bus.

The bus doors slid open and your co-star Ewan Mitchell came running out.

"Let me help you out there."

"No Ewan I got it." You smiled at him but he shook his head. He grabbed the playpen and baby bag from your arms and gestured for you to go first.

"Thank you." You sighed and walked up the steps of the bus. Everyone greeted you and moved their stuff so you could set Miles down. Ewan came in behind you and handed you the baby bag.

"I'm going to take this to the back." He says and takes the playpen.

"Thank you again." You say.

"Don't mention it," Ewan says and walks to the back then back up to the front to sit directly behind you. Miles' car seat was secure and you took your seat right next to him.

The next stop was Tom. He stepped on the bus and his eyes instantly matched with you.

"Hey, Y/n." He sat down next to you in the other set of chairs. His eyes dashed over to the little have stretching. "You brought your baby!?" Tom instantly cooed and tried to get a look. And just at the same time, Miles started getting fussy. The kind that he wanted to be held.

"Okay okay." You cooed and started unbuckling him. You pocked him down and tried to sit him down on your lap but he planted his tiny feet on your thigh to stay up. "Oh, we want to stand today." He looked around the bus as it was completely new to him.

"Hi there." Tom waved at the baby with a big smile on his face. "I don't think you remember me but I do remember you." Miles giggled as if he understood. "You were so much tinier."

"Now he's a big boy." You say and tickle his sides making the baby squirm and giggle. Then he stopped as his little eyes caught onto Olivia. His tiny mouth was open in awe.

"Uh oh, I think someone's got his first crush," Tom says and you look at Miles who was staring intently at Olivia.

"You think she's pretty huh, I know she is." You say in a tiny baby voice.

"Oh, that is adorable," Olivia says with a smile which triggers Miles to smile as well. He sat down abruptly, digging his knees into your stomach making you huff then stood up with force to look at Olivia again. As if he was playing peek-a-boo.

The whole ride Miles had everyone smiling and laughing. You were only 15 minutes away when Miles suddenly leaned over to reach for Tom. It was like something clicked to Tom and he instantly reached out but then hesitated and looked up at you for reassurance.

You were going to be working with these people for who knows how long. You had to trust them.

You nodded and passed over Miles to Tom. He gladly accepted it with no issue. He sat in the man's lap contently while Tom kept a secure hold on him.

Once you deemed he was okay you let yourself relax as much as you could.

Ewan tapped your shoulder and you turned around.

“How old is he now?” He asks looking at Miles.

“6 months.” He nodded then looked at you.

“You look absolutely amazing by the way.” He says. “I wouldn’t have guessed you had a baby 6 months ago.”

Your face heated up and you broke out in a big smile.

“That is very kind of you Ewan, I appreciate it.” He gave a satisfied smile and grabbed his phone.

“Can I get your number? I have pretty much everyone but yours.”

“Yeah!” You grabbed his phone and typed in the number and handed it back to him. The bus pulled into the lot and parked. Everyone stood up grabbed their stuff and got off the bus just leaving you with Ewan, Tom, and Miles.

“I can take it from you, thank you.” You tell them but they don’t budge.

“We’ve got you, don’t worry. I can carry Miles.”

Tom says and stands up, bouncing Miles slightly.

“I can carry the other stuff. You worry about yourself for a bit.” Ewan says and grabs the baby bag and walks to the back to grab the playpen.

“Guys I’ve been doing this for months, please let me carry my stuff.” You pleaded but they didn’t budge. Tom waited for you to start walking and Ewan waited in the middle of the aisle.

“We know you’re doing this, but you’re basically by yourself Y/n, let us help. We’re going to be around each other for a long time. I'm sure everyone in there is going to want to help you as well.”

You didn’t know what to feel. Your chest tightened but your belly fluttered at his words. Your breath hitched and you bit your lip. The boys worried you were about to cry but you just nodded.

“Okay.”

A/n- this was more of an intro but, more to come!

@callsignwidow

#ewan mitchell #tom glynn carney #ewan mitchell x reader #tom glynn carney x reader #glytchell

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darnell-la · 6 months ago

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heyaa could i request dark!old man!logan x naive/virgin!reader with corruption kink (maybe with some degradation too if youd like). i know its like a basic prompt but the thought of manipulative Logan does something to me???? i need that man religiously and im not sure if i can ever recover from it thats all please and thank youu!!

warnings: drunk reader, consensual sex, slight finger play, neck kissing, rough sex, dominated, public sex, crying, orgasm, ass slapping, lots of degradation, loss of virginity, hair pulling, choking, etc.

summary: Logan couldn’t help himself at how sweet y/n treated him when she was drunk. He needed her now, and once he felt that she wasn’t lying about her being a virgin, he couldn’t stop his dirty mouth.

note: Logan is the king of degradation and domination. He’d make you feel any kind of way when he uses you, but also somehow show he loved you.

———

“How many did you have?” Logan asked, voice serious and deep as he pulled y/n into the bathroom to use. “Only a few,” y/n dragged, making him shake his head. By the smell of her breath, she knew they weren’t mixed.

“You’re just so damn slow, huh, y/n? Why would you drink straight Bacardi!?” Logan tried keeping his tone down, but it was hard. “Bacardi raspberry,” y/n corrected the man.

Logan breathed through his nose as he shut his eyes, trying to keep himself back. He was angry at so too many actions she’s pulled tonight.

“No wonder those men were lookin’ at you. You’re a fucking piece of meat out there — That ain’t good!” Logan shouted as she sat down on the toilet to use it as she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I wasn’t paying attention to any of them. Only you,” y/n pocked at the man’s lower stomach. He wanted to react angrily, but he could never stay too angry at his girl.

“Oh, is that true? You still love me after all them drinks?” He asked, making her nod her head. “Of course, I do,” she smiled as she grabbed a hand full of toilet paper to wipe.

“God, you’re a pain in my ass,” Logan admitted as he turned around and walked out of the stall. “But you love it,” she smiled as she flushed the toilet and walked next to him to wash her hands.

“Maybe I do, but you’ll have to let me show you one day,” Logan said as he kicked himself off of the wall and moved behind her, pulling her body into him, knowing she’d feel his bulge.

“One day, baby,” Y/n said as she tried her hands then turned around to look up at him. “Why not now, Bub? Been together for so long, I would never leave you. Even if those pretty little legs opened up for those nasty men out there,”

Logan’s hands began to travel y/n’s body, sending shivers down her spine. She loved his touch, but she was too scared to move further.

“C’mon, baby — Lemme feel it,” Logan said as one hand cupped her cunt through her panties. “This small ass dress ain’t makin’ my life better,” y/n laughed as the man as she shifted to leave, but his free hand grabbed her waist to keep her in place.

“Logan, maybe another time. We’re out in public,” y/n said, but Logan couldn’t care less if someone came in here and saw them. “Only makes me want you more,”

“Logan, baby,” Y/n said, but he reacted by burying his face into her neck. Y/n couldn’t help but let out a small moan as his hands rubbed her bud through her panties. The groans Logan let out would let anyone know how much he needed her.

“Lemme do it, baby,” Logan said as his hand disconnected from her waist and fumbled with his belt. “Not here,” y/n said low as he sucked harder. Whether she gave him the go or not, he was going to get something before they left the bathroom.

“Yes, here, baby — Need it right here and right now,” Logan finally got his pants to fall down a bit until he could balm his cock through his boxers.

“Got me so fuckin’ hard, I can’t stay away. Needa feel you right now,” Logan said as he rubbed her bud harder, making y/n squirm against his body. His fingers always did the trick, but right now, she felt higher than usual.

She didn’t know she’d be so turned on by Logan needing to feel her. She loved how needy and demanding he got. She couldn’t bring herself to push him away.

“That’s it, baby — Lemme in,” Logan moved in between her legs as she mindlessly let them open. “Good girl — Good good girl,” Logan said as he reached into his boxers to pull himself out.

“Always so good for me. Can’t help but ruin you every time — Thankfully this time will be so much easier,” Logan said as he rubbed his tip along her folds. She had no idea what he meant by that until she felt him push through her folds.

Logan was huge, and he’d only got the tip in. She wouldn’t be able to handle this for the first few times, but Logan couldn’t care less about it. He just needed to feel her and fill her.

“Lo,” y/n cried low as her hands gripped his shoulders. Logan said nothing as he pushed further, deep groans slipping into y/n’a ear.

“T-Too much,” y/n whined, nails digging into his shoulders, but that only made him want this more. The older man slammed into her, forcing her to take him all at once.

The cry that left her mouth sounded painful, but he knew she’d adjust. She had no choice but to. “No more, no more,” y/n repeated as he slowly slipped in and out of her.

“Ssh, princess,” was all the man said as a hand snaked around the back and grabbed her ass as the other grabbed the back of her head. Logan pulled Y/n closer as his pace built.

“Lo- Lo!” Y/n cried in the crook of his neck. Before she knew it, she was gushing around the man. “Augh, fuck, y/n,” Logan’s voice came out as a growl as he felt her juice leak down his balls and legs.

“So fuckin’ tight, almost thought you were lying when you said you were a virgin,” Logan finally spoke to her as the sound of the sink loosening began filling the bathroom.

“Almost everyone knows how sweet a virgin is these days. Always thought you were lying to me just to get with me,” Logan gripped y/n’s ass cheek harshly, breaking a bit of skin with his nails.

“I’d still want you even if you lied — The thought of men fucking this pretty little cunt doesn’t sound too bad watch. Would love to see you all fucked out and dumb,”

Y/n’s never heard this side of Logan. Some of it made her feel off, but that off turned into a turn-on. She didn’t know why. All she knew was that anything Logan wanted, she’d like.

“Yeah, you wanna get fucked for me? Spread this little girl across my bed so I can hire a few men to fuck you? Dirty little slut — I might even do it,”

Logan pulled out of y/n and pulled her off of the sink before turning her around to push her face against the dirty mirror. Before she could even blink, his cock was back in her.

“A damn whore you are, baby. So fucking dirty in here for me. You’re nowhere near innocent. You’re a pathetic little cum dump,”

Y/n whined at his words his pelvis slapped against her ass harshly. “You wanna be used, don’t you? Your first time having sex, and you’re enjoying the way I throw you around — Fuck, y/n,”

Logan’s hand which wasn’t pushing her head into the mirror, came down onto her ass repeatedly. “Logan, that hurts,” y/n cried with pleasure, but that only made him laugh.

Logan used that hand to clamp over her mouth and grip down onto her face. “You think I care how you feel, slut? Think ima treat you sweet just because this is your frost time? Your cunts too wet for princess treatment,”

Logan spat a bunch of hard words in y/n’s ear as his hips snapped against her, causing his cock to make these ungodly noises. She couldn’t see it, but she knew she was making a horrible mess on his cock.

“How do you feel about an old man fucking you dumb in a bar bathroom, hm? Did you think your first time would be more romantic? Boohoo — I'll give you romantic,”

Logan tugged on y/n’s hair, causing her neck to snap back. Logan smashed his lips onto her after he released his hand from her mouth. His teeth clashed with hers, but she was too gone to say anything about it. She couldn’t help but only moan into the man’s mouth.

Her back ached from how he forced her to arch. She felt like she'd break any second but chose to stay quiet about it. What he wanted went from now on, and she was beginning to understand that.

“Mhm hm,” the old man growled in y/n’s mouth as his free hand began to come down on her ass again. Y/n cried just like last time, but he didn’t stop this time. He continued, and even slapping was harder.

“Nah uh, take it. Take it. I said fucking take it!”

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http-tokki · 10 months ago

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ʚ⁺˖ ↠ blue

ᰔ pairings: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader ᰔ content/tags: mha spoilers, childhood pov, abusive childhoods, childhood crush, blood, allusions to self harm/suicide, explicit language, smut, kinda not really, its smutty talk, angst, allusions to s/a, power dynamics, time jump to when touya is like 26, creative liberties have been taken with the original story, set in the century 2400 ᰔ wc: 10.5k ᰔ a/n: so there is a bit of a weird timeline with this one. instead of touya dying at 13, I've made it he dies at 16 and the subsequent events are a lil delayed, in the manga he is 24 atm but here i have him as 26, please suspend your disbelief for a sec cause the amount of work ive put into this so it makes sense, i almost went crazy

March 10th 2460 Touya: aged nine You: aged eight (and three-quarters)

Breakfast is at five, lunch at twelve, and dinner at seven.

The clock hands tick over the first five graduations and onto the sixth, meaning it is six minutes past seven and dinner is late.

Lateness is not tolerated by the Todoroki clan.

No reason, whether it be big or small, would be accepted nor understood by the head of the family, and punishment for being tardy ranged from groundings to lectures and in the most severe cases, a beating. However, those parameters do not extend to said head, who you think to be more akin to that of a prison warden than a father.

You watch the housekeeper slide the last of the food onto the table and take another look at the clock.

7:08.

The table had been set, food diligently prepared and presented, plates piled high with greens and dripping meat, three different kinds of fish, an array of soups, and other liquid foods. Mrs Todoroki often had trouble eating, so instead opted for warm broths and hot teas, and they were all going cold while you waited for Mr Todoroki to come in from Touya’s nightly training. Saliva coats your tongue as you breathe in the heavenly scents wafting from the mountains of food, your stomach growling in protest at not being filled with the delicious smells.

Ten minutes pass and just before the eleventh has a chance to be observed, the sliding doors to the dining room whoosh open. With the ease and casualness of someone who is above the law of the household, Enji Todoroki strolls in followed closely behind by the eldest sibling.

Touya trails behind his father, movements sluggish and slow, his frail body slumped in exhaustion and what you would only later realise as terror. You can almost see the muck that weighs on his body, dripping off sharp bones in big flat globs of swamp green mud, seeping into the reeds of the tatami mats below. Fresh wounds litter his arms, blooms of dark red blood pock the sterile bandages that were hastily wrapped around his limbs. The stark white began at his wrists and climbed up and up his arms until they disappeared beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. You follow Touya, eyes lingering on his wounds as he sits down opposite you.

“Fuyumi. Is he-“ Your question is hushed, spoken from the corner of your mouth to avoid raising suspicion of the subject.

“He’s okay, we don’t talk about it.” Her answer comes in a rush, eyes darting towards her father like a prey animal watching their stalker. “Just eat.”

Fuyumi’s mouth pulls into a frown for a quick second before her attention moves to the food before her.

You nod, attention shifting from the boy across the table to the plate that had been prepared just for you. A small helping of meat and fish paired with a big serving of rice and vegetables, the nanny even going as far as to put it into a divider plate as though you were a toddler, but you thanked her regardless, smiling up at the haggard-looking woman as she nodded politely and moved onto tending to baby Shouto. The food only holds your attention for so long before you glance back up at Touya, watching as he cuts into his steak with the precision of a man far beyond his years. Each move slow and calculated; every shift of his arms or turn of his head deliberate and purposeful, small actions to avoid raising awareness of his person. Come to think of it, all the children, save for Shouto, moved like that. As if they were in constant apologetic states just for breathing, existing, and with their father you understand why, but it doesn’t stop you from staring at the boy before you.

"Stop looking. He doesn't like it when you stare." Fuyumi whispers, smacking her knee against yours.

"But it looks like it hurts." You whisper back, unable to look away from the red splotches on the white bandages.

You want to ask if he is okay. If he needs a doctor and who did that to him? Was it a bully at school? How was the school not getting involved if he was being bullied this bad?

"Fuyumi," Touya sneers from across the table. "Tell your friend to stop staring at me."

Unabashed hatred simmers in his blue eyes as his glare falls on you. Heat rises to your cheeks, stumbling out an apology, and vowing to never look at him again.

No one had ever looked at you like that. With such hatred and malice, you didn’t even know existed.

"He plays rough, always falling over at school," Mr. Todoroki’s voice booms throughout the room, so loud and sudden it is like a thunderclap on a clear day. "You've got to be more careful, Touya. What would people think if they saw you like this!"

The lack of care for his son’s well-being gives you pause mid-bite. The vegetables fall from your fork as goosebumps skitter along your skin.

What would people think if they saw you like this?

What would they think other than he had been in an accident? Is Touya’s broken body a regular occurrence that people would be so used to seeing that it would start to raise suspicion? Had he been hurt on purpose? Why would Mr. Todoroki say that? Did Mr. Todoroki do that to Touya?

Your attention is pulled outwardly as Natsuo starts to talk about his day, telling his mom and the housekeepers all about the latest games and toys at school, the newest edition of a card game you like captivates you and your thoughts are swept away from the strange boy across from you.

Dinner ended as it always did.

Mr. Todoroki called the housekeeper over to deal with the mess and children as he retired to his office and Mrs Todoroki took her evening walk around the grounds of the estate. You can’t stay the night despite it being a Friday, you’re never allowed to stay the night. Fuyumi had stayed at yours plenty of times, your parents never saying no to another friend but never you at hers. You thanked both her parents and waved bye to her brother before the youngest housekeeper walked you home. That’s how every Friday night ended.

That routine had become a staple in your life, going on two years, before there was a change to the way of things.

------

July 1st 2362 Touya: aged eleven You: aged ten

The shift was subtle and gradual, like the way a house is warmed by a fire on a winter’s eve. Slow and steady, seeping into all corners of the once-frozen house until all you know is warmth and you can’t remember how the cold felt. That’s how you would describe Touya’s presence in your life. From the arctic interactions each Friday night at the dinner table to someone you would call a friend.

The first thaw of the ice wall that had formed around your friend’s brother, was an accident.

Knee deep in the heat of summer, you had rushed over after summer school, swimmers in your backpack and a dream of jumping into the fresh cold heaven that was the local pool. You had come looking for Fuyumi, hell-bent on getting your poor friend out of the stuffy old house and somewhere she could have fun without the risk of her dad making her or her siblings cry.

You had come to hate Mr Todoroki.

He hadn’t done anything to you personally to deserve the contempt you held towards your friend's dad but you had heard enough from Fuyumi. She had told you all the times he made her mom cry. How there would be arguing and then the sounds of breaking plates followed by her mom’s cries. Mrs. Todoroki never said anything was wrong, never alluded to anything other than a mild argument but there had to be something more, right? Adults didn’t cry over nothing!

“ ‘Yumi, let's go to the pool!” you call down the hall. “I’ll buy ice cream this time.”

The housekeeper had let you in, instructing that your friend was in her room finishing up some school work but after you checked her room and found no sign of her, you went looking.

That is how you found Touya.

Walking into the bathroom under the assumption you would find Feyumi, you are greeted with a situation you are not old enough to understand the severity of.

Touya slouched on the bathroom floor, surrounded by bloodied towels, unspooled bandages, and uncapped ointment tubes. A piece of gauze caught between his teeth as he attempts to bandage his bleeding hand.

He shouts at you to leave, his command broken as he hiccups around the sobs falling from him. Scorched skin covering the majority of his arms, fingers red and blistering as they shake.

That image sears into your brain. Imprinting itself onto your eyelids so that each time you fall asleep, you see Touya; broken and bloody.

There isn’t much you remember from that afternoon, only flashes and stills that live in the recesses of your mind.

The feel of the cold tiles on your exposed legs as you knelt before the once terrifying older boy who had never had a single nice thing to say to you.

The smell of salt and metal of his fresh blood.

The sound of Touya’s cries as you peeled incorrectly placed bandages off raw and exposed skin.

The acidic taste of bile in the back of your throat upon first laying eyes on the scene before you.

It had been too much for little you to comprehend so you just forgot most of it. Thrown it into a locked drawer in your mind and lost the key.

That was the beginning of the thaw, a gruesome and bloody beginning to a friendship that spanned years and ended just as horribly.

------

September 23rd 2463 Touya: aged twelve You: aged eleven

“So it's this really old movie that my mum used to watch” you explain as you click on the familiar title screen. “It’s about a girl who gets transported to this weird world and she has to solve some weird riddle to get out.”

Touya looks at you like you had grown a second head but accepts your weird movie recommendation. You sit down next to him, popcorn bucket jiggling as the couch sinks under your frame.

The beginning animation of Spirited Away starts and the familiar tune wraps around you like a warm hug. This was the movie you liked to watch whenever you felt sad, and you noticed Touya was a little sadder than normal these days so you offered to have a movie night. His siblings had all said yes but upon discovering that the movie was one from decades ago, backed out. So with just the two of you left, you sit in silence and watch as the beautiful world comes to life.

It’s a nice moment between the two of you, sharing something so personal with someone you would have never considered a friend and here the two of you were, watching a movie. Like friends!

“I’m gonna call you Chihiro cause all she does is cry and that’s all you do too,” Touya announces as the credits begin to roll.

“I do not!” you retort, slapping his arm lightly. “I cry a normal amount for a girl my age!”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Chihiro.”

------

February 14th 2464 Touya: aged thirteen You: aged twelve

Spring is only a month away yet it feels as if it were the middle of December.

The cold of winter had sunk its claws deep into the city and it seemed as if it did not have plans to let go of it anytime soon. Everyone in Tokyo bundled up against the frost that coated the wind but it wasn’t the cold that had your hands trembling as you gripped a single rose.

It was Valentine's Day and you were about to ask Touya to be yours.

The nerves that had built in your stomach had taken over your extremities. It was as if your entire body was a live wire that every so often touched an exposed pipe and jolted.

In the two years since the bathroom incident, you had grown closer to the oldest Todoroki, sparking a friendship that consisted of more than smiles and shy hellos across the dinner table. Phone calls and text messages were the daily, walking to school and home together was the new norm, all things that one would consider friendly but there was a part within your heart that was growing to like Touya a little more than a friend. You knew it was a crush, you weren’t a little kid anymore, but you also knew that he was unattainable for many reasons. One was that he was a sibling of a close friend and the other being that he was not someone who thought about life that way. There was no room for crushes in Touya’s world. There was only hero work. How to become a hero and then how to become the number one hero.

You had heard this speech a million times. His plans to surpass his father in the rank of heroes and become the ultimate symbol of peace. Heroes had no time for girlfriends, only villains.

But you had no plans of becoming a hero so there was no real reason you shouldn’t try, right? Your mom had bought you the flower this morning, picking up on the crush that you had developed on your friend and very excitedly pushed you to give Touya a gift.

“What do I do with this?” Touya asks, confused as he takes the flower from your hands.

You had stopped halfway through the walk home and turned to your friend, eyes wide with fear, and shoved the bloom into his hands. Originally the plan was to hand it to him as you said goodbye for the afternoon but you were swiftly running out of ways to regulate your breathing to counteract the anxiety wreaking havoc in your stomach.

“It's for you” you answer, eyes trained on your shoes.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you asking me to be your valentine?” There is a pause. “Do you like me?”

Yes.

“No!” you lie, shouting the word even though you didn’t mean to. “I felt bad that you hadn’t gotten anything, so I got you something and there you go, it doesn’t mean I like you.”

You hear footsteps, watching Touya’s shoes move closer to yours. “Just admit, you like me.” He teases.

“I do not!” balling your fists, you stomp your foot. “I already told you why I got them now shut up before I take them back!”

Another pause.

“Thank you,” Touya says gently. “Even if it's just cause you felt bad for me”

Spring had come early for Touya Todoroki.

------

June 28th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen

Romance had blossomed between the two of you, then wilted, then blossomed again, then wilted again.

Teenage hormones had been unleashing havoc on your friendship for the past year. One day you were fine and the next, barely speaking but it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“You two just need some time apart and then you can talk about it, you guys will sort it out.” Your mother had cooed, stroking your hair back as you cried one afternoon after you and Touya had had a ruthless argument.

The topic of fighting was always the same. His insane need to overtake his father and prove him wrong. The need within him had turned insatiable. Morphing from a dream that would one day be achieved with dedication and hard work into something that was turning your best friend into a ravenous beast.

“You’re not listening to me. I need you to listen to me.” Touya shouts as you walk home together.

“I am. You’re just not making sense.” You roll your eyes at your friend, turning your attention away from the raving lunatic walking beside you.

“Why would your dad have it out for you? He’s your dad?”

Touya huffs and stops, hand wrapping around your wrist to pull you back.

“My dad isn’t like your dad. He doesn’t love me or any of us. He just wants us to be better than All Might.” His words are slow as if explaining something to a toddler. “He knows that I am more powerful than him and now he’s scared that I might beat him so he wants me to stop training.”

You groan out his name, annoyed at the constant conversation topic. “Your dad wants you to stop training because you keep hurting yourself. He has told you that a million times, he’s just trying to keep you safe.”

“If he wanted to keep me safe, he wouldn’t have let me train like this. This isn’t about me being safe, this is about me outranking my dad.”

“Touya-“

He continues his tirade. “Enji has realised that I am better than him and Shoto but he doesn’t want his loser son who can only use fire to become the number one hero. I don’t know why you’re on his side. Why can’t you be on my side for once?”

“I am on your side!” you shout, yanking your arm away from his grasp. “I’m always on your side, why do you always make it seem like everyone is against you!”

Touya’s mouth snaps shut at your sudden outburst.

“I can’t keep having this argument with you. I feel like you don’t even want to be my friend so you come up with this stupid stuff to push me away and if you want that, fine. Just tell me so I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” You huff and turn around, starting on your way home without your friend.

You don’t hear his footsteps follow you.

His apology comes in a text later that night.

I'm sorry, Chihiro. Can we still be friends?

------

October 19th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen “Can you promise me something?” Touya’s words become mist in the mid-autumn night.

“Depends.”

You turn to face your friend, feeling the dew-soaked grass squish beneath your shoulders. Hidden behind the garden wall, lost within the shrubbery the two of you hid from the housekeepers who had been tasked with wrangling the children in for dinner. Touya had run first, taking off down the hall the second he heard the call of his name and you followed, unaware as to what you were running from but you followed him everywhere so why wouldn’t you now?

“Please don’t forget me.”

“Forget you?” your brows crinkle in confusion. “Why would I forget you? Are you going somewhere?”

Touya is still on his back, attention rapt on the stars twinkling above him.

“Just when we get older and go to different schools and things change, you know.” He sighs. “Just don’t forget me.”

You sit up, concern overtaking your confusion. Why was he talking about this stuff now? Your friend turns to look at you, mouth pulled down in a frown as tears line his cerulean eyes.

“I won't.” You shake your head, scooting closer across the grass and grab his cold hand, interlocking your fingers together, you squeeze and swear an oath. “I promise, I won’t ever forget you.”

November 24th 2367 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged fifteen

Nights come quicker in winter.

Which means less time spent with Touya.

But at least there is a little extra time when he walks you home on an evening.

It is a little awkward. Walking so close together but not actually touching aside from the occasional brush of fingers that sent your heart into a sprint. There is something unspoken between the two of you, something that teeters on the edge of romance but not something that you are both ready to dive into. It’s not like you are kids anymore, if you are going to date, it will be different than if you just liked each other. You will have to act like a girlfriend and not his friend and you didn’t know how to be a girlfriend. Was it any different than how you acted now? Plus, kissing and hand-holding. God, you want to kiss him.

You both stop at the gate of your house. The lights in the living room are on which means your parents are up waiting for you.

Touya drops your backpack at your feet.

There is a beat of stillness between the two of you, the tension rising with every second. You had not spoken a single word to each other the entire walk home and you don’t think you will even say goodbye. Touya offers you a tight smile and steps back, confirming your suspicions of a silent goodbye.

"Hey, I need to tell you something." You blurt out the words, not wanting him to leave just yet.

"Yeah?"

"I…umm," you stammer, slipping your hands into your jacket pockets. "I know it's your birthday in a few weeks, so I wanted to know what you want as a present."

"That's a question, Chihiro” Touya's mouth lifts at the corners. “You said you needed to tell me something."

“I got mixed up." You amend.

"You sure? There isn't anything you need to tell me?" Touya pushes, taking a step to close the gap.

"I'm sure. I just got confused" You nod, affirming your choice of words. “What do you want as a gift?”

"Hmm,” He pauses and takes a few more steps closer, lips pursed as if deep in thought. “Well, I want some of those cookies your mom makes."

Touya stops a few feet from you, close enough for a hug but not close enough that it was weird.

You laugh. "Really? That's it? You don't want a proper present?"

He nods. "Wrap it up, and it'll be a proper present.”

“Okay, cookies it is” You mirror his nod and smile. Your palms start to sweat, cheeks and ears begin to burn as you look up at your best friend.

“Any more questions?”

You shake your head. “Nope, that’s all.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna go 'cause I should have been home ten minutes ago but you are such a slow walker” he teases, bouncing up on his toes.

“I-Um,” you stutter, unable to come up with a snappy comeback due to his proximity. “Go home before you get into trouble.”

“I’m gonna.”

He makes no move to go.

Silence fills the gap.

“Ahh, well I’m going to go since-“

You’re interrupted by a soft kiss against your cheek.

You still, unable to move at the realisation that Touya had just kissed you.

“Okay, I’m going.” He announces and takes a step back. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

You nod, raising a hand in goodbye as he starts back down the street.

“I hope you like me too, 'cause that kiss made me late and my dad’s gonna kill me!” he shouts back, already halfway down the street.

“I do…like you…back” you shout awkwardly, feeling every inch of blood your body had flood into your cheeks. “Good luck. Hope your dad doesn't kill you!”

------

November 30th 2467 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged fifteen

You speak at Touya’s funeral.

The third speaker of the ceremony, having been urged on by Fuyumi and Natsuo despite your protests, and the one to close off the day before his ashes were taken home. You tried not to cry, bottom lip wobbling all day and you would have made it had you not been shoved on stage, microphone held to your face as you unfolded the crumpled sheet you had stuffed into the pocket of your coat.

The rest of the day was a blur as was the week, then the month and only after six full months of grieving daily, crying god only knows how much, did you finally start to see the light at the top of the hole you had buried yourself in but unlike the times you and Touya would play together, his warm hand wasn’t there to help you back up.

------

January 4th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You think about Touya Todoroki often.

How your best friend had been killed in some freak accident. How despite his father rushing into the flames to save his son, had come out unscathed yet all that was found was Touya’s jaw bone. It didn’t make sense and you had driven yourself crazy with theories surrounding his death. It was an accident, they had all said. Even if it was an accident, Enji Todoroki was not innocent.

You think about the kind of man Touya could have been if he had lived, what kind of hero he would have become. How he would save the day then turn and smile at his adoring fans, blue eyes blazing bright with pride. You often think about his eyes, remembering how they softened whenever he would smile at you, brighten as you offered half of whatever snack bar you had that day. You think about him enough that you think you’re going crazy when you look up into the eyes of a stranger and see Touya staring back at you.

"Touya?" you whisper as you stare at the strange man.

You had walked headfirst into their chest while crossing the dark street, ducking under awnings to avoid the winter rain. Hoping to cut ten minutes from your usual walk home, desperate to beat your roommate home and into the warm embrace of your apartment’s limited hot water, you took the risk of walking down the alley; what you weren’t hoping for was to bump into your best friend’s dead brother. There was no way it was him, maybe he was a distant Todoroki. Enji did seem like the type to spread it around so maybe a few illegitimate children were running around with the eyes of Endeavour.

His hand reaches out to grab your arm, nails digging into your exposed flesh. You want to wince, to cringe away from him but something within you is telling you to hold your ground. The stranger pulls you closer, all false bravado leaving you as you realise what’s about to happen. Your body tenses, hands uselessly curling into fists at your side.

"Who the fuck are you?" a harsh whisper cuts through the quiet patter of rain.

The hand your arm tightens when you take too long to respond.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Your answer whooshes from you, all air leaving your body in a single sentence.

The stranger ducks his head to get closer to yours and you turn your face away, afraid to look into the face of the man who had the eyes of a long-lost love. This had to be some sort of joke, right? You were not about to be assaulted by a guy who had Touya’s eyes, there was no way the universe was that cruel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I’m sorry, please.” Hot tears roll over your cheeks, your bottom lip quivering as you fight the frown wanting to form. You were not above begging despite knowing it wouldn’t do any good, if there was some way to get out of this situation alive and unscathed, you were going to try it.

“Hey,” the stranger calls to you, shaking you gently. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Great, he’s playing mind games now. You’ve seen enough true crime to know that there are no good people left in the world, especially the ones who lurk in alleyways.

A cold hand reaches out and grips your chin, lifting your face to his. The gesture is intimate, gentle and familiar.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sorry, I-“You’re sobbing now.

“Look at me” he interrupts, fingers tightening on your cheeks.

He repeats his order when your gaze doesn’t move.

You sniffle, blink back tears that refuse to stop coming, and focus your attention on the man before you.

“I’m not going to hurt you so stop crying,” his voice is soft.

The hand that was on your arm now cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that coat your cheeks. His skin is rough and warm, but there is a bite of something cold on his palm. He holds you with such tenderness you feel a tug at your heart not for any feelings towards the stranger but because you had never been held like this before. That a complete stranger who was probably a crazy psycho villain was holding you with the care you hold a baby animal with.

“I need you to stop crying and answer me, can you do that?” he asks, nodding as his thumb continues to brush over your cheek.

You nod, taking in a shaky breath.

“Good girl.” Heat floods your cheeks. “Now, why is a pretty girl like you walking alone at night?” he asks softly.

You blink up at him, surprised at the switch in demeanour.

“I just finished work and this is shortcut.” you don’t have time to come up with an elaborate lie. “I’m really sorry about the whole name thing, you just look like a friend who died and I thought that maybe he wasn’t actually- I’m sorry” You feel the tears welling up again.

“Well, he’s not me.” He sighs, removing his hands from your face. You kind of miss the warmth they had. “I’m sorry you lost someone, but I don’t think accusing strangers of being dead people is a good idea.”

You nod wordlessly, too stunned at his shift in tone to formulate a response. The man reaches up for the hood of your raincoat, pulling it over your head tight to shield you from the rain.

“I need one more thing from you okay?” he asks, ducking his head to look into your eyes. “You gonna listen to me again?”

“Okay.” Your voice shakes.

“Don’t mention that name to anyone else, alright?”

He waits for your nod and then releases your hood. “You’re such a good listener” The fact he is praising you has your heart spinning. Wasn’t he ready to attack you a few minutes ago?

“Now go home” he nods his head to the exit of the alleyway. You follow his nod and look back at the light-filled street. “And don’t walk down backstreets anymore, you could get hurt.”

By the time you turn back to face him, he is already halfway down the alleyway arms raised in a farewell. You watch as he turns the corner and only when he is gone do you let yourself breathe. ------

March 6th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

"Let it go, dude," Natsuo sighs for the umpteenth time as he packs his books away. "You're lucky you didn't get hurt. He could have been a complete psycho."

Your friend is right and has been every other time you have brought up the strange man from the alley and you can tell by the way he shoves the textbooks into his backpack that his patience is running thin. Over the years, you had grown closer to Natsuo, looking at him like a little brother who you could force to hang out with and do things Fuyumi didn't want to. Unfortunately for him, he was the first person you called upon meeting the stranger (Knowing Fuyumi would have had a heart attack upon hearing about your encounter). Initially, Natsuo was concerned, terrified for your physical and mental wellbeing even going so far as to suggest letting his father know about the incident to launch a formal investigation but you were quick to shut that down. You hadn’t been hurt and the man didn’t seem to be skulking in alleyways to assault anyone so there is no reason you should get heroes involved.

"Dude, he looked so familiar! I know him," you press on, hands splayed on the library table as you lean in as if you were about to reveal a secret. "I think he was a childhood friend."

You had purposefully omitted the fact the stranger bore a striking resemblance to his dead brother or how his entire aura radiated familiarity and warmth something you only really felt from said brother.

Natsuo laughs and zips his bag closed. " 'Yumi was your only childhood friend."

"Fine, a neighbour, maybe I don't know, but I know him."

"Should I schedule you with my family psych, or will this fade by next month?" You frown at Natsu, sigh, and then give in to his pronounced lack of interest.

"I don't need to see anyone because I know I'm right," you start to pack up your things. "But, just for you, I won't mention it again."

------

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You feel stupid.

Really fucking stupid.

So monumentally stupid with every single decision that has led you to this moment. Led you to stand before a thick metal door, the sliding peephole pulled back to allow the man guarding the entry a view as to who knocked like some girl scout. The box of cookies in your hands does nothing to evade that image.

“I have a meeting with…Dabi?” you look down at your phone, squinting at the blurry name on your screen then back to the man guarding whatever was in that building. “I think.”

You have no idea if you’re being set up. If the person you had been corresponding with was the infamous villain or just some poser but what you have deduced from your months long investigation is that you had in fact met Dabi in that alleyway so whether it was him or not you were about to meet, he is your only lead into finally figuring out what exactly happened to Touya

“You think?” You hear the smirk in his voice at the uncertainty in yours. “I think you might have the wrong door, sweetheart.”

It is the right door. The creepy encrypted message you received gave you this very location with the exact time to arrive. This was a giant risk on your behalf. Trusting strangers on the internet to give you accurate information as opposed to being lured into a trap for human trafficking but the need to know more about the mysterious man you had met weeks ago was gnawing at your insides so much that you were more need than person. The hunt had begun with a very broad search into Touya’s death and the records surrounding the tragedy before very quickly veering into villain records and archives. There was a small lead with a hospital admittance for an unidentified burn victim in a hospital a prefecture over from Tokyo but that went cold when the body of the patient was identified two weeks post mortem through dental records. You had all but given up when a weird email in your spam box caught your eye. It was from an unknown sender, hence the immediate spam allocation, and had nothing but a link to a chat site. There is no amount in the universe to quantify the stupidity in your subsequent actions from clicking the link to chatting with the stranger on the other side of the screen but they had the information you wanted and so you followed their instructions to a bookstore, then a bar and then finally an internet café where you logged into the already open discord chat that had the location of the final meeting point. You quickly snapped a picture of the chat before it disappeared and three days later, here you stand in a deserted alleyway surrounded by boarded-up doors and graffitied walls.

“This is the address I was given.” You explain, holding up the phone so the guy can get a look at the message. “I promise I'm not with the police or anything, I just have some questions for Dabi and I know that makes me sound like I’m a police officer but I’m not and I’ve been looking for him for weeks so please, let me in.”

Your mouth sets in a frown and despite wanting to look intimidating and rough, you know you look like a child pouting in an attempt to get more cake. “Please, I’ll give you some cookies if you want.” A shitty bribe but a bribe nonetheless.

The man snorts. “You really have cookies in that box?”

“Yes. Fresh and homemade made and some of them can be yours if you let me in” You wiggle the box.

There is a beat of silence then the sliding peephole slams shut.

Fuck.

You close your eyes, disappointed in the fact you had come so far only to be shut down by some guy behind a door. Maybe this was the universe stepping in and preventing you from getting killed or trafficked. Maybe you should let this whole thing go.

Just as the last of your hope leaves you, you hear the click of a lock and then the door is sliding open. The man who you had been speaking to not ten seconds ago stands before you, muscular tattooed arms crossed over his equally muscular chest.

“Choc chip?” he asks, eyes trained on the box in your hand.

You nod.

“Fine, come in” The man tilts his head in a gesture to welcome you in. “Leave some on the counter.”

You nod again, your pace quick as you enter the building beyond the door.

The hallway is dim and damp, filled with cardboard and wooden crates stacked along the walls. The ceilings are high with exposed piping and hanging fluorescent bars that would have once lit up the entire walkway. Light bleeds beneath the many doors that line the hall, muted sounds following the flashes of colour that leak from the closed-off rooms. The smell is unpleasant, with mildew and mould growing along every available surface but what did you expect a dirty unoccupied building to smell like?

“Where’s the?” you turn to ask about the counter, but the man has disappeared. The door slides shut caging you in from the outside world, from an escape if need be. “Hello?” you call out and take a step back, dried leaves crunching beneath your feet.

Fuck. Fuck.

You turn on your heels, heading for the door you had stepped through a few seconds ago but are stopped by a familiar voice.

“Did you really bring me cookies?”

You whirl, fingers tightening on the box between them. “Yes, but if you don’t want them, it’s okay. I just thought that I might-“

You watch as the man you had met weeks before steps into the dim light. Breath catches in your throat as you are met with the face of the villain that has filled your screen for weeks now.

Dabi.

He is taller than you remember. Towering a full foot over you, his intimidating figure looms in the dim light. Your eyes follow the line of his scarred skin over his cheeks, down his neck, over exposed collarbones before disappearing beneath the neck of his shirt. Heat fills your face at your wandering gaze and you’re thankful for the lack of lighting.

“Who says I don’t want cookies?” Dabi smirks, taking a step out of the shadows.

“No one.” your answer is a broken stammer, earning a bemused snicker from your companion.

You take in a breath and square your shoulders. “I just don’t want to accuse you of anything.” A better delivery.

The villain hums and takes another step closer. “So, it is you then.”

Another foot closer, and when you don’t back away, one more. His steps are careful; small and reserved as if trying not to frighten you anymore than you already are. The routine is repeated, a hesitant dance of pushing proximity limits until he is less than a foot away. Blue eyes narrowed on you, brows furrowed in intrigue. Same blue as before. Same blue eyes as Touya.

His apprehension and fascination leave as quickly as it came, and you're left staring at a man who looks as if he wants nothing more to do with you.

“So, pretty girl, what can I do for you?” tone casual, pet name rolling off his tongue effortlessly. “You’ve gone through all this trouble to what?”

The thought of lying did cross your mind on your way over but you had already jumped through enough loops to get this meeting, you aren’t in the mood to play games and risk his irritation.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Dabi tilts his head to the side the way an animal does to hear better. There is something so unsettling about the he moves, something not entirely human.

“Talk about what, angel?” his eyes blaze blue as he notices the twitch in your lips at the byname. “About the league? About you? Me?”

“About you.”

Heat pools in your stomach at his affectionate pet name, embarrassment following suit. You should not be letting him get to you the way he is, but it could also be a good bargaining chip. If you couldn’t afford his services monetarily, physical payment would not be entirely painful.

“We can talk about me but first, I want to ask you something.”

“Sure.” The false confidence you had summoned before has not left you yet.

The insincerity of your act is palpable, but Dabi lets you go, lets you take this small win.

“How long did it take you to find me?” his question is genuine, interested in just how exclusive access to him is.

An exhausted sigh leaves your body at the mention of the time that you had put into locating him and his lips quirk at the gesture.

“Four months and 2 weeks, I think.”

An irrationally long time but there are questions that demanding answers.

“So, you’ve spent almost five months thinking about me?” he taunts.

Me. The emphasis on the pronoun doesn’t evade you but you don’t have time to dwell on his excitement.

“Yes. And now I’ve answered two of your questions, can I ask one?”

Dabi shrugs and reaches for the box in your hands. Rough fingers brush against the back of your hands, goosebumps skittering over your skin at the contact. He takes his time opening the small white box, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in contemplation at the contents before him and after a full minute of silent deliberation, does he pick one. Slender unscarred fingers dig into the box, fishing out the biggest and most chocolate filled treat.

“Did you make these?” Dabi holds up the choc chip cookie, inspecting the biscuit in the low light.

“That’s three questions now.” you announce as the unofficial score keeper. “and yes, I made them this morning.”

The making of the desserts had been a coping mechanism on your part. Too nervous to sit still but not so overstimulated you were willing to exercise to shake off the extra energy, you turned to an activity you hadn’t touched since university. The recipe was one you know by heart, having it gifted to you by your mother on your eighteenth birthday, you were free to think as your body worked through the motions. However, the purpose behind you baking said sweets was not entirely self-soothing.

Dabi nods and bites into the biscuit.

“I know you already said you don’t know the guy I mentioned when I first met you and I haven’t mentioned him to anyone again just like you asked me, and I figured with you being a villain, you might have connections that I don’t have and you can access more information as to what happened to him and I promise that I can pay. I’ll pay whatever you want but I don’t really have that much but I’ll pay in food, and that’s kinda why I brought some cookies to show that I can bake but that will only be a small amount because I’m good for a couple thousand-“ you reach into your back pocket to fish out your wallet. “I promise, I won't ever mention this to anyone, but I just really need your help, Dabi.” The juxtaposition of your pastel purple Kuromi wallet holding thousands of dollars as payment for a villain’s services almost makes you chuckle but the lack of recognition from your companion causes you to pocket the purse.

Dabi’s stare is unamused as he chews.

“Why is this guy so important to you?” he asks around a mouthful of chocolate. “You’re willing to blow thousands on some dead guy, not to mention you’ve risked your life coming here, so why is he so special?”

Your fingers curl into a fist, nails digging into your palm before you relax and answer.

“Because he died in a really weird way, and I need to know if there was anything I could have done to prevent it.”

“That’s a stupid reason.” Dabi spits out.

A frown tugs at your mouth.

“He’s dead. Who cares how he died and whether you could stop it or not.” He continues, rolling his eyes as your pout forms. “What’s the real reason you’re looking for answers? There’s something else.”

“It’s stupid.” You mutter, suddenly embarrassed at the reasoning for your investigation.

“Ohh, it can’t be that stupid if you’ve put all this effort in.” Dabi croons. “Come on, angel. You’ve gotta tell me why if I’m gonna do all this work looking for him.”

You take in a deep breath in hopes of smothering the tears that are threatening to spill but the lump sticking in your throat has other plans.

“Because he was my best friend and I loved him and I never got to say goodbye.” You sniff, nose starting to run as the tears build. “Please.”

Dabi stares at you.

“You made these?” the question comes out of left field.

You blink at the villain, unaware as to where he is taking the conversation but answer him nonetheless.

“Yes, I did. It’s stupid I know, bringing cookies as a bargaining chip but I-“

“Your mom’s cookies are better.” Dabi interrupts.

My what? My mom?

“What?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry but her cookies will always be the best.”

Your jaw slackens as you stare at the man before you.

“My mother?”

“Yes. Your mom made better cookies, and it’s not for lack of trying. Yours are really good, but they’ll never beat your mom's.”

Is he fucking with you? Is this some elaborate psychological warfare that he enacted on all his victims? Are you about to die? How does he know about your mother’s cookies?

“Aww, don’t get upset Chihiro. I'm just being honest.”

The nickname rattles your soul.

Touya.

Before you can even register that you are moving, you have crossed the space between your bodies and swung at the villain.

Your clenched fist collides with his jaw, surprising him out of his teasing. Arms wrap around your waist as you collapse against the villain. Your knees break the fall, bones scream out in pain as they slam into the concrete, and you brace for further impact but it never comes. There is a moment when you truly believe you are going to be killed, incinerated into nothing but ash for your assault but nothing happens and so you are left with no other choice but to get answers from the man under you. There is no clear choice as to why you chose violence, some primal part within you acting out of instinct. There isn’t enough time for you brain to catch up or even process that information that had been thrown at you. . In most high-pressure situations, you would retreat inwards and carefully unpack each and every detail of the occurrence like you were a kid under a Christmas tree; not a package left untouched, but you don’t have that luxury in the current moment.

Hot fat tears stream down your face as you grip Dabi’s cheeks in your hand, his skin rough beneath your fingers.

“You’ve been alive this whole time?” you cry, fingers digging into the gaunt flesh and when no answer comes you ask again, the palm of your hand connecting with his cheek in a sharp slap. “You left me to think you were dead, but you’ve been alive?”

Below you, the villain stares up in disbelief. Eyes wide at the mad woman above him, screeching like a banshee let loose. His thin shirt is scrunched tightly between your fingers, pulling the material taunt against his body. You have no control over your actions, feral and bowing to your emotions. You watch as your hand slips to his neck, pushing at the base of his throat.

Finger wraps around your wrist, pulling your weight off his windpipe and then the world shifts.

You are flipped over as easily as a leaf in the wind. Now on your back, the dust that had been kicked up from the floor sticks in your lungs and you cough as you cry.

Dabi hovers above you. Legs on either side of your hips, hands pinning yours above your head preventing you from causing any more harm to him. You try to kick, to wrench your hands from his grasp, throw him off you with your hips but nothing. You fight back against your opponent, teeth gnashing as you desperately try to find purchase on skin but he has done this too many times before to leave anything to chance. All points of access to an injury on his behalf are sealed up, held high above you and there is nothing you can do to reach.

Your cries are loud and deep and aching. Air leaves you with each heaving sob and you fear you may never breathe again. Spit and tears mix in a hot mess across your cheeks and you would wipe away the mess if not for your hands held above.

“I hate you so much.” You seethe, teeth clenched as you breathe in. “I fucking hate you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You hear Dabi apologising over and over again.

A hand brushes over your forehead, then your cheeks, then your jaw.

“You left me.” You wail. “You left me there, all alone.”

Your chest heaves, air being gulped down as if you had been held underwater to the point of drowning and it felt like you had been. You had been held under for so many years and now you were getting a moment of air, and your brain could not process it.

You take a few more breaths, calming the blood roaring in your ears and pounding heart and finally when your breathing returns to a semi-acceptable rhythm, do you finally acknowledge the man above you.

Dabi glides his palm along your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone before resting his fingers along the side of your neck.

“I’m so sorry.”

A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

There is no longer a villain before you. Dabi does not exist. The boy above you is Touya. Your Touya.

You knew it. You knew it was him all along.

“Is it really you?” your voice is hoarse from crying.

“If I answer, you need to promise to keep it a secret,” he whispers, free hand curling in the ends of your hair that lay splayed out beneath you.

“Promise.” You nod and hold out your pinkie the way you did so many times as children.

Touya interlocks his pinkie with yours.

Fresh tears prick at your eyes.

“Hi, Touya,” you whisper.

“Hi.” He whispers back, hand pulling away from yours to glide over your jaw and slot into the hair at the nape of your neck. “I missed you.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull his body against yours in a bone-crushing hug. A laugh leaves your friend as he loops his arm around the back of your neck, holding you close. You pull back, face now centimetres from him and wait for him to make the next move. Your body follows his breaths, following his lead just the way you would follow him all those years ago. A lump forms in your throat and you know you look insane; hair mused, cheeks flushed and soaked in tears, eyes still red and crying.

Touya closes the distance, mouth hovering above yours and you think he is going to kiss you but nothing comes.

“Did you really love me?”

A sob leaves you involuntarily.

“I loved you so much, you have no idea.” The truth spills from you. “I love you so much.”

At the confession, Touya kisses you.

His mouth is soft on yours in the gentlest of kisses, almost as if he was afraid that you would fall apart if he pushed any harder. You part your lips to test the waters and when Touya follows your lead opening his mouth against yours, you grip onto the shirt bunched up around his waist. He lets you lead, lets you take control and set the pace for the first few minutes. Following your moves and pressure against your body to not push you any more than you already had been but as you whimper beneath him, his demeanour shifts.

Fingers tighten in your hair and the hand that had been holding himself up comes to rest on your waist, slipping beneath your body to pull you closer to him. Your mouth opens wider beneath his and you feel his tongue trace your bottom lip before flicking into your mouth. Menthol and chocolate fill your senses and you scramble for more, hands gripping his face as you desperately try to get your fill of him; of Touya. The steel of the staples bites into your palm but you don’t care, don’t care what form you have him in, you have your Touya back.

You’re being lifted off the floor, hoisted to sit on his lap, feeling the entirety of his body against yours.

You pull away to stare at him, not believing this is happening and that at any moment you are going to wake up or snap out of your delusion.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Touya asks, eyes frantically searching for the reason you aren’t kissing him anymore.

Your chest constricts at his concern. The same sweet and caring boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I’m okay, I just-“You stroke his cheeks and he leans into your touch, inhaling a shaky breath. “I missed you so much. There was so much we didn’t get to do.”

He frowns and nuzzles further into your palm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to apologise, I just want..” You can’t form the words. Can’t articulate the need within you for him. All these years you’ve held a torch for your deceased best friend. All these years you could have had him with you and now that you do, you aren’t letting go. “I just want you.”

Touya’s frown deepens. “Even now?” His thumbs stroke circles along your clothed skin.

You know he is referring to his crimes. All the bad he has done and probably will do. You do not care. You had long ago abandoned your hope in the heroes of society, having been granted a look into the past of the now top hero. There is nothing for you in that world, nothing on offer that could sway your feelings for the man below you.

“Even now, and tomorrow and the day after that and yesterday and the day before and the month before that” You smile, knowing you weren’t making sense but none of this made sense. “I never forgot about you.”

Touya’s eyebrows knit together in an expression you don’t know and for a moment you panic; worried you had crossed a line that you didn’t know existed. You want to apologise, take back the words that had so carelessly tumbled out but his grip on your body stops you.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he sighs, hands sliding up to press into the small of your back.

“Really?” you beam, unable to stifle the excitement that grows in you at his confession.

You are no longer an adult woman sitting in a dirty and dusty warehouse; you are fifteen and hearing your crush confess words you had been so desperately wishing to be spoken.

Your best friend’s fingers trailing over your spine pull you back to the present.

“Never for a single second,” he tests the waters and slips one hand under the hem of your shirt. “I never wanted to forget you.”

When no protest on your behalf comes, Touya slips his other hand beneath the material and begins to trace shapes into your skin.

“What did you think about?” your question is breathless, head beginning to swim as you feel heat bloom in your stomach.

Touya hums in thought, fingers beginning to climb your ribs. “Good things. Great things actually.” hands splay over the band of your bra. “some bad things but that isn’t important.”

Your thighs slip further apart at the implication; weight now fully resting atop his hips. There is no doubt that he can feel the heat from between your legs, the warmth that had begun to pool in the seam of your panties.

“Bad things?” you ask the question without knowing what kind of answer you would get. “I was nothing but nice to you, what bad things could you be thinking of?”

You feel his cock twitch at your innocence. Perfect.

Your answer comes in the form of an action. Touya leans forward and captures your mouth in a searing kiss. All teeth and tongue as his fingers pressed hard into your spine, holding you against his body as if you are a buoy and he is lost at sea. Your own hands begin to wander, sliding from where they came to rest on his neck, into the hair at the nape of his neck and as he digs his teeth into your bottom, you pull at the strands between your digits.

Touya pulls away, breathless.

“I always kept an eye on you, you know.” he pants, pushing your body away only enough to ogle you freely. “And I’ve gotta say you grew up so well.”

There are two thoughts that cross your mind in that spilt second. One: to bring up the fact he has kept you within his sighs for years, has been in the shadows of you life and how there is a part of you, not that big but enough to plant a seed of betrayal, that you can’t forgive him for that. Two: to throw caution to the wind and give into the part of you that aches for him.

The latter wins out.

“I did always think that Dabi was really handsome” you admit, an air of nonchalance in your words.

“Oh yeah? Even with all the new mods?”

“New mods?” you laugh. “Why do you make it sound like you’ve upgraded a game or something?”

Touya laughs with you.

“I’m serious,” vulnerability swims in his eyes as he looks up at you waiting for praise. “Do you really think that I’m still handsome?”

You nod and duck your head closer to his. “I still think you’re so handsome and you will always be handsome, which is really unfair.”

His lips are pressed against yours in a soft kiss. It's gentle and sweet, with no hint of the darkness lurking just below.

“Even after all these years how do you manage to make me so weak?” Touya pulls away to admire you.”You, my pretty girl, are my weakness.”

He tucks your hair behind your ears, holding your cheeks in his cupped hands and pulls you back in for a kiss and you melt into his touch at the possessive compliment.

“All these years, I never thought I’d get to talk to you again let alone touch you.” His mouth moves to your neck, pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “but, fuck, have I thought about it.”

Your skin flushes at his confession.

His teeth sink into your neck, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to break the skin.

“Thought about kissing you like this” his words are slurred.

Slick begins to pool in your panties, the seam of your jeans dampening.

“Thought about having you in my lap, just the way you are and how good you’d feel on my cock.”

Your head swims at his words.

“When I saw you again for the first time a few years ago, it took everything in me to not walk up to you and kiss you right there and then.” He bites lower, nipping at your collarbone.

Rough hands make their way under your shirt, exploring the expanse of your back.

“Thought about holding you and kissing you and taking you home.” he bites again. “God, the amount of time I’ve spent imagining you under me or spread out just for me.” Breathing becomes hard. “All for me, just for me.” He chants your name as if it were a prayer.

You grind your hips over his, feeling his cock hard and aching beneath you. Touya groans against your throat, fingers digging into your skin. Hands begin to wander downwards until they find purchase on the buttons of his pants, stopping at the metal for approval from the man beneath you and when it comes in a rushed yes, please you flick open the clasp. Your movements are awkward and nervous, having never thought this would happen and you can tell Touya is just as jittery. His fingers dip under the waistband of your pants, toying with the soft elastic of the band. Your hands follow his and pull at the material, trying to pull it down but stop at the realisation there is no way you could do this and still look seductive.

“I’m trying really hard to make this hot, but I don’t think it’s gonna work.” You admit, giggling at the absurdity.

Touya shakes his head, removing his hands from your hips to hold your face again. “I don’t want to fuck you here.” He presses a kiss to your nose.

Before you can ask, he is answering.

“I’m not gonna have the first time I fuck you be on a dirty floor in a random building.” A kiss on your right cheek.

“But what if I want that?” you retort, hand reaching down between the two of you.

His breath catches as your fingers brush against his clothed cock.

“I know you want that,” he pulls your hand away and entwines your fingers. “and you know I do too,” A kiss to your left cheek. “But I had a plan back when we were younger,” he brings your hand to his lips. “and I’ve already had so much taken from us that I’m not letting our first time be taken too.”

Your heart squeezes. He really is the same boy you fell in love with.

“So as much as we both want it, please let me do this, okay?”

You pout, a habit you had formed long ago that usually got you what you wanted from him.

“Please, baby.” The pet name is a gut punch.

You nod and hold up your pinkie.

“You promise?”

Touya grins wider than you had ever seen and entwines his finger with yours.

“I promise.”

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged twenty-six You: aged twenty-five

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ᰔ a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! ohmygosh, this was a long haul. I wrote it and then rewrote it and then rewrote it and so on and so forth till I got here. tiny TINY smut cause i didn’t wanna write a whole ass thing so I might do a one shot of it later. this exhausted me holy- also shout out to billie eilish lmao her entire new album helped me write this mainly chihiro, the greatest and blue but also harry styles' as it was and madds buckley's brother

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kunasthiast · 4 days ago

Text

jumpsuits and motors (1)

summary: when one visit to his usual mechanic changed his life for the better… or not? especially when the mechanic he had in mind to check his car wasn’t you – the one who is unbelievably unimpressed by who the fuck he is. and now, you’re on his mind 24/7 – right next to his narcissistic tendencies and thoughts of only him and his precious baby (his car).

pairings: sukuna x reader (female) genre/warnings: sukuna is an arrogant, cocky, bratty asshole, racer AU, mechanic AU, underground street car racing, reader’s a mechanic (currently studying engineering), fluff, future smut, attempt at humor word count: 3.2k All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

taglist is still open for those who wanna be added!

masterlist

part one > part two

The thrill of the chase. The pulse of adrenaline. The deafening roar of the crowd after every victory. This is what Sukuna lives for. This is what he’d die for.

And this weekend, he’s gonna risk it all.

As an undefeated underground street racer, Sukuna’s days revolve around training, fine-tuning his technique – or whatever else you call it – and making sure his car is in always in peak condition. Every week, without fail, he brings his baby to his shop – the only one he trusts.

This time, though, he’s not just racing anyone.

His opponent? Gojo Satoru. The cocky, loudmouthed idiot who’s been his biggest rival – and his biggest pain in the ass.

For months, Gojo’s been running his mouth about how he’s gonna take the win. Please, when he sees Sukuna, he never fails to mention it. Every. Single. Fucking. Time. And always with that damn smug smirk and a wink, just to piss him off.

“Who’s faster between you two?”

Sukuna’s response? Always the same: “Why even ask when you already know?”

And yet, Gojo never lets it slide.“Nah, I’d win.”

It takes a lot of everything in Sukuna not to punch this stupid idiot square in the jaw. And being the calm, cool, collected one (of course) Sukuna settles for flipping Gojo off instead. Yup, this pink-haired dude is highly confident he’ll win this coming race, maintaining his undefeated history and finally break off his rival’s win history.

This race? It’s his.

Easy, as always.

With one week to go, his red Audi R8 purrs down the highway, weaving through traffic effortlessly as he heads to his one and only favorite shop – the one place that keeps his car in top condition, no exceptions. He pulls into the garage, kills the engine and steps out – only to find the place empty.

Frowning, he tucks his keys into his pocket and crosses his arms. He knows he booked his baby's checkup. He’s fucking meticulous about this shit.

Just as his irritation bubbles over, a voice calls out from the pantry.

“Uh, we’re closed!”

Sukuna’s brow twitched. The fuck?

“What do you mean it’s closed? I have a scheduled appointment,” he shouts back, which by the way is very obviously annoyed.

Footsteps shuffled and a moment later, you walked into view, casually biting into a cinnamon roll. You’re in a navy-blue jumpsuit, the top half tied around your waist, revealing a black tank top clinging to your frame. And, your trusty 5-year old scuffed-up boots – clearly well-loved – to complete the look.

“Chill out, cutie,” you say between bites. “I definitely sent everyone a message this morning that we’re closed today. Maybe you just forgot to check your phone?” You continued chewing on your cinnamon roll – without missing a beat – even offered this pink-haired hottie your half-eaten cinnamon roll, “Hmm, this one’s good. Want some?”

Sukuna deadpan stared at you. Cutie? Yep, his irritation spikes. So does his curiosity. Because you? You’re fucking hot.

Ignoring your snack offer – he’s not a fan of sweets – he pulls out his phone. Sure enough, a message from the shop sits unread. This pulls out a groan from him. Shit. He really should’ve checked his phone before driving out here.

“Why are you even closed today?” He mutters, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “I need my car checked today.”

You take another bite, unfazed. “Suit yourself, I’ll just have all the rolls to myself. Dad’s out running errands. I’m the only one here.”

Sukuna’s barely listening now. He’s watching you. The way you’re leaning against the workbench, the grease stains on your arms, the way your jumpsuit sits low on your hips.

And – fuck.

Pink hair or not, he know he looks intimidating. People usually tread lightly around him. Even the mechanics here. Even his competitors. Even people who walk past by him on the streets.

But you? You’re standing there, eating a damn cinnamon roll, calling him cutie, and acting like you don’t know exactly who he is.

Not a fan of awkward situations, you continued chewing on your pastry and observing this hottie. He’s wearing a tight black shirt and gray sweatpants which clearly outlined his sexy, muscular physique. He has a cute fluff of pink hair, too, that’s surely something you didn’t expect for someone with an intimidating demeanor and face tattoos. You thought, he’s kinda cute and hot, why have you only seen him today?

Sukuna knows you’re gawking at him. He notices everyone looking at him. Every time.

Naturally, his lips curl into a smirk. “What, in love with me already?”

You snort mid-bite. “Please.”

Unbothered, you finished eating your damn cinnamon roll, then turn on your heel, walking back toward the pantry, clearly ignoring what he just said and replied back with, “You are kinda cute, though.”

Oh.

Sukuna blinks. That’s… not what he expected.

And, fuck, he likes this attitude of yours.

He follows you inside, eyes locked on your back. Who even are you, he thought and realized. “Wait a second. You’re Akira’s daughter?! I didn’t even know he had a daughter.”

You glance over your shoulder. “Uh, yeah? I work here, what else would I be doing here?” You reach into the small fridge with your ass clearly hanging in front of him, rummaging for another drink. “Soda or beer?”

“Soda. I’m driving,” he says, but he’s not thinking about the drink. He’s openly staring and thinking about the way you’re bent over, ass sticking out, completely unaware of the perverted thoughts running through his head.

He forces himself to look away, leaning against the wall as you toss him a can.

“What kinda work you do here, then?”

“Mechanic.” You went to the other side of the room to sit down at the table and pop open your drink to take a sip.

Sukuna nearly chokes as he’s sipping on his soda. “You’re a mechanic?!”

Arching an eyebrow, you were offended. “What, that hard to believe?”

He scoffs, eyeing you up and down. “Didn’t expect that. Why don’t you just check my car then?”

“Nope, I’m off duty!” You chuckled and winked. “Just wait for my dad.” You then grabbed your phone on the table and opened it to scroll through your messages, checking if you got any update from your dad on when he’ll be back. Yup, no updates.

You just sent a message to your dad to update him about the mysterious, sexy man’s presence in the garage. Yes, he’s very sexy.

You what time will u be back? pink haired boy’s here to see u says he got weekly car checkups & can’t miss it 9:02AM

“Anyway, who are you? What’s up with the weekly car check up?” You said, looking at him. He was eyeing the room idly and turned his eyes to you while taking another sip of his soda and raised his eyebrows, “You don’t know me?”

“Uh, should I?” You snorted, clearly finding his confident aura interesting.

“I’m the best street car racer in this city. Undefeated. Sukuna, King of the Tracks. Ring a bell?” Sukuna said as he fixes his stance and threw the soda can on the trash can near the fridge. He’s staring at you with a smoldering smirk.

“… Nope” You blinked. Yeah, you really don’t know him, heck, it’s your first time meeting him! You thought.

“Unbelievable! You work in a shop that caters to race cars, and you haven’t even heard of me? This has been my go-to shop ever since I’ve started like 5 years ago.” He said with a chortle and clearly showing his disbelief on his face, his smoldering smirk faltering into a teasing grin.

You gave him a light chuckle and shrugged your shoulders while flashing Sukuna a smile, “Sorry to burst your bubble, I haven’t had the time to keep up with local street-racing celebs. ‘Sides, fixing cars is more fun than racing them.”

He snorts at this. “Blasphemy.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. ‘King of the Tracks.’ And, I just started this job a year ago.” You admitted with an emphasis on air quotes.

Sukuna feigns offense at this. But before he can argue, your phone buzzes – it’s a message from your dad.

Mecha Boss meeting’s running late be back in an hour don’t touch his car 9:05AM

You tch, yea yea not like i was gonna T^T 9:07AM

You sigh dramatically after sending your dad a text. “Dad’s gonna be back in an hour. He said he’ll check your baby by then.” You said to Sukuna with an eye roll as you close your phone.

“Why don’t you check it?” Sukuna perked up out of curiosity.

“I can’t trust myself with supercars, alright? Even dad.” Yes, you were sulking about it.

Sukuna watches you, amusement flickering in his gaze. “What, afraid of supercars?”

“Nope. Just extra careful. If I screw up, you could crash and die. Not something I wanna have on my conscience.” You ruffled your hair into a tousled mess thinking about the possible life and death consequences when you do touch a fucking supercar.

Sukuna chuckles at your animated response and gave you a fucking wink, “Damn. Didn’t know you cared so much about my safety, princess.”

This left you gaping at him with your eyes twitching, “The audacity –”

He laughs. Full, deep, cocky as hell.

“Don’cha worry, sweetheart, I got a pretty good track record of staying alive.” His voice was practically dripping with smugness, his eyes gleaming with that devil-may-care charm he wore so well.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips betrayed you, twitching upward. “Yeah, right, Mr. ‘Undefeated King of the Tracks’.” You threw in a set of air quotes for good measure.

That earned another laugh from him, a rich sound that made something in your chest tighten – not that you’d admit it. “Yeah, I think it’s better you don’t touch my car,” he finally conceded, grinning like he’d just let you win.

As his laughter faded, you shook your head, more amused than you wanted to be. Cocky, arrogant, insufferably confident – but there was something about him. Something magnetic.

“Alright,” you replied with a playful smirk, letting the subject of his car checkup drop – for now. “I'll make sure to steer clear of your precious baby.”

Sukuna leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you like he was trying to figure something out. “You know,” he said, his voice dripping lower, more thoughtful now, “I didn't expect to find someone like you here.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he meant. “Someone like me?”

His smirk softened just a fraction, turning into something more curious. “Yeah. Someone who's not impressed by the usual flashy cars and racing scene.” His gaze flickered over you, assessing. "You're different. Refreshing, even."

Sukuna's words lingered in the air, and you found yourself drawn to the genuine curiosity in his eyes. There was a playful edge to his demeanor that you couldn't ignore.

“Refreshing, huh?” you echoed as you met his gaze with a coy smile playing on your lips. “Well, I'll take that as a compliment, coming from the 'King of the Tracks' himself. I just like fixing cars and stuff.”

Sukuna lets out a low chuckle, a hint of admiration shining in his eyes. “Trust me, it's not a title I give out lightly,” he mused, voice laced with something undeniably flirtatious. “But you? You're in a league of your own.”

Rolling your eyes and waved him off. “Flattery’s cute and all, but that’s really a bold claim coming from you.” You then remembered that you brought your knapsack today and looked for it. As you see it, you pulled it out and fished around inside for your laptop.

You had plans. To study.

Technically.

Your dad had given you some actual race data to review, but instead, you booted up Stardew Valley. See, your mom had made a deal with your dad – if you studied for your upcoming final exam this week (which starts tomorrow, by the way) while you’re at the shop today, you could tag along to the race this weekend.

And in your genius brain, you figured that optimizing a fully automated farm system was basically the same as learning resource management and problem solving.

Flawless logic.

You set up shop on the counter, flipping open your laptop. The familiar pixelated graphics greeted you, and within seconds, you were deep into harvesting your cranberries, managing your sprinklers, and planning the most efficient layout for your barn upgrades and eventual greenhouse.

Sukuna, who had been watching you with mild curiosity over your abrupt attention of not remembering he’s there, suddenly leaned over your shoulder.

“The hell is that?”

You didn’t look up, too focused on getting a perfect harvest cycle before the in-game day reset. “My farm.”

He blinked. “Your what?”

“My farm, pretty boy,” you repeated, exasperated. “I need to get my wine production up and running before winter hits. This is serious business.”

There was a long pause. Then a raucous laughter.

You scowled as Sukuna actually doubled over, gripping the edge of the counter for support as he wheezed.

“Wait – wait,” he gasped between laughs, “you, the grease-covered, ‘I’d rather fix cars than race them’ mechanic, are sitting here, running a farm?”

“Yes,” you said flatly.

He snorted.

You clicked your tongue, eyes still glued to the screen. “It’s called being efficient, sweetheart. I don’t just fix cars, I build sustainable economies.” And please, your kegs weren’t gonna make themselves.

That earned you a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t peg you for a nerd.”

You finally looked up, smirking. “Didn’t peg you for someone who’d give a shit about a farming sim.”

“I don’t,” he shot back. “I just find it hilarious that someone who refuses to touch a supercar has no problem running an entire pixel farm like a fucking tycoon.” He leaned in closer, tilting his head as he studied your screen. “So what, you just… plant stuff?”

“Plant, harvest, sell, reinvest,” you corrected. “It’s all about strategy.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you. “That sound suspiciously like racing.”

You gave him a deadpan stare. “How in the hell is this like racing?”

He crossed his arms, clearly enjoying himself. “Think about it. You plan your route, optimize your car’s performance, anticipate obstacles, and time everything perfectly to get the best results. What’s the difference?”

“… Shit.” You blinked. He had a point. A stupidly good one. Looking back, your logic is actually flawless. Just sounded stupid coming from him. It’s actually a good thing you’re playing instead of studying those boring race data. You’re subconsciously learning how to strategize better.

Sukuna grinned, clearly reveling in the fact that he just blew your mind. “So basically, you’re a racer. Just… in a really fucking nerdy way.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Don’t make me rethink my entire existence, pretty boy.”

“Nah, I like this.” He drummed his fingers against the counter. “I show up for a routine car check, and instead, I find a grease-streaked mechanic-slash-secret gaming strategist who doesn’t give a damn about street racing but somehow thinks running a fake-ass farm is the height of excitement.”

You shot him a playful glare for that. “You say that like you’re not just as obsessed with your car.”

“Difference is,” Sukuna leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief, “I drive my baby at over 320 kilometers an hour. You just sit here clicking shit.”

You dramatically gasped, placing a hand over your heart. “How dare you insult my empire?”

His laughter was deep, amused, and annoyingly really nice to listen to. “I’ll give you credit, though. You’ve got a different way of thinking. Kinda refreshing.”

You just puffed your cheeks at this, continuing to play. And when you were at the Stardrop Saloon to talk with some of the villagers, disaster struck.

Sukuna, who is currently grinning like a damn idiot, reached over and hit a random key on your keyboard. And you accidentally gifted your one and only iridium bar to Shane.

You gasped. Audibly.

A horrified silence filled the garage.

On-screen, Shane – the absolute waste of space that he was – sneered and said, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Oh no, your precious, valuable, hard-earned iridium.

Gone. Given to Shane.

FUCK.

You snapped your head towards Sukuna with murder in your eyes. He looked between you and the screen, struggling not to laugh, “…Did I just –”

“YOU –” you pointed at him, voice audibly shaking with rage. “Do you have any idea how rare iridium is? Any idea what you just did?!”

Sukuna, looking way too entertained by your reaction, leaned against the counter, smirking down at you. “Damn, sweetheart. Didn’t think you’d get this worked up over a little farming game.”

“Little farming game,” you inhaled sharply, then exhaled like you were about to commit violence. “You’re fucking paying for this.”

He just grinned. “Yeah? What, you gonna make me till your soil? Water your plants?”

Thank heavens you were in the pantry and playing on the counter. And the knife holder was on the counter. Yep, you grab one and threw a knife at him.

Sukuna barely dodged, the fucking knife clattering onto the floor behind him. He whistled, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Shit, you’re serious.”

“DEAD serious,” you seethed. “You didn’t just give iridium bars to Shane, Sukuna.” Yeah, he definitely wasn’t expecting that the first time you’ll call him by his name was when you want him dead.

He just leaned in, still smirking. “Pretty sure I just did. Whoever that is.”

And you really, really want to strangle him. But then, he moved. One moment he was lounging against the counter like an asshole. The next, he had you trapped against it, hands braced on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

Your breath hitched, totally not expecting this one. And, please, you’re still mad.

His grin turned dangerous, voice dripping low. “You gonna make me pay, princess?”

Your brain short-circuited with how close he is right now to your face. You can practically smell his cologne and feel his heat and that smug, unbearable confidence. His words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but look up to him (mind you, he is a tall ass handsome man).

Your fingers twitched at your sides, itching to either shove him away or – God forbid – grab onto his shirt and yank him even closer. You weren’t quire sure which impulse was stronger, but judging by the way his smirk deepened, Sukuna knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

“You gonna keep staring, sweetheart, or are you actually gonna do something about it?” His voice was all smoke and embers, teasing and taunting, like he wanted to see how far he could push you before you snapped.

And, you were this close to snapping.

Your hands shot out, fast enough that he might have flinched if he wasn’t so damn arrogant. Instead of shoving him, you grabbed the collar of his shirt. His smirk widened, but it faltered when you yanked him even closer, lips nearly brushing his ear.

“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” you whispered.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I like the sound of that. And that’s exactly why it’s fun.”

a/n: i don't even know what came over me to write this story. i just know that i put everything what i love here – from a cocky Sukuna to a bratty Reader. and then there's stardew and motorsports. so i hope you'll enjoy this one lol ^^

taglist: @xylov @junitries @bloomtatsuki @maeamora9 @gojoscumslut @onlypickless @domainofmarie

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #au sukuna #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x oc #jjk x y/n

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londonfog-chan · 3 months ago

Text

Emperor Caracalla x Reader: Asklēpiós

A/N: I promised one day I would write for my precious little lad. Now that day has come.

Also, if you’re not nearsighted and legally blind without glasses like me, you are now. Congrats.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and neglect, prostitution, STD/STI mention, Female Reader

Credits: dividers by @strangergraphics

“Come now, Agapi, won’t you be agreeable?”

Caracalla’s lips pressed tightly together into a thin line. Head turned to the side in defiance.

Slender fingers tapped against his pock-marked cheek— a gentle coax to open that pretty mouth of his. But as usual, he scrunched his aquiline nose and shook his head in vehement protest. Night time was a gamble with Caracalla. One never knew what version of him they would get. Would you have the monster with enough physical strength to turn over a lectus with someone laying upon it? Or would you have the sniveling, crying angel, who buried his face in your breast and begged for affection.

“You promised, Agapi.” you said, running a finger along the length of his nose bridge, “You said you would take your chinaroot for me.”

“The horse piss herb?!” He whined, swatting your hand away, “I don’t want it!”

“You did promise me you would take it as I asked.” You said, using your calloused fingers to brush his strawberry blonde bangs from his forehead, “Or did you lie to me, Agapi? Me, of all people.”

Pink lips pouted in quiet contemplation. You could see the conflict in his slate blue eyes. Below the surface of his pink cheeked charm, a feverish, maddened mind was working to determine whether or not to deny, lash out, or seek forgiveness. Treading carefully when it came to your emotions, you knew he was warring with his own impulse.

Since his affliction, the other concubines of the realm refused to lie with Imperator Geta’s brother or even go near him at all. Not since they had given you to him had anyone bothered of late to reciprocate his touch. The isolation was fraying his nerves. He became moody, volatile. Constantly lashing out when he called out for pleasure, and only got you instead.

“I want pleasure! Not this piglet!” Caracalla screamed that first night.

You were frozen under Geta’s clutching of your shoulders, and gasped softly as you were pushed forward into Caracalla’s furry chest.

“You’d infect our courtesans with your disease, take what I give you and be grateful for that at all!” Geta had growled back, a cupful of wine to the face enough to silence his brother as the both of you were drenched in sanguine liquid.

You were not stupid enough to question your place. They gave you to Caracalla as a joke. Lesser goods for the lesser brother. You were not comely and lithe like the others. Admittedly you were rather plain, a Hellene from Chora who had been treating the infected in the concubine’s quarters. More of a servant’s apprentice than a vessel for the imperator’s bastards, and for a time you preferred things as they were. Treating the sick. Nursing them to health. It was a peaceful existence.

Not even the praetorian guard dogs wanted to touch you. Another aspect of the general disinterest was the semi state of blindness you lived in. It got steadily worse from childhood until now, when you could not perceive eight paces before you, without the world dissolving into an unfocused blur. Everyone either pitied or despised you, believing that your affliction was something to be controlled. You made your peace with it a long time ago, just as you made your peace with being Caracalla’s pleasure dregs.

“… As you wish, give me your piss herb.” He finally acquiesced, lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“Thank you, Agapi.”

But unlike the others who fled from his touch, you were gentle with Caracalla, and you would continue to be. The coldness of his stormy blue eyes softened and became ensconced by pupils dilated in affection, his cheeks a blushing rose pink as you held out a bronze cup steeped with the juices of a dried rhizome.

Even in his feverish state, he could tell the difference in care. You treated him with tenderness. Not like he was an invalid, but more with affection and respect as a spouse would for an ailing husband. You kept his cubiculum tidy. Carefully selected his ensembles of jewelry and silks for the servants to dress him. Every other day you bathed him in milk, scouring his body with a pumice and then moisturizing him with beeswax and oils. Dressed his wounds and perfumed him with patchouli, even going as far as to perfume his breath by having him chew clove and mint on occasion.

Subconsciously, the co-imperator picked up on your kindness. Instead of raining blows on your head with freakish strength, the man would reach out and cling to your stola. Speaking tender words of affection, and seeking at some points to make you pleased with him.

“You’re a wicked harpy.” He huffed, his soft hands over yours on the bronze cup.

“I know.” you murmured, gently coaxing the lukewarm liquid between his lips, “But I am a harpy that plucks at the mites between her nestling’s feathers, seeking to soothe his itch. Now drink.”

The chinaroot did not go down smooth, it never did. Caracalla gurgled and gagged the liquid and rhizome all the way down his gullet, slender hands wrapping around a pale throat as he chewed and choked. It was painful watching him try to swallow, but he had to. Without the chinaroot, the regression would have only gotten worse, and he would have succumbed to the infection from his chancres.

“It’s like gargling a goat’s testes!” He whined as he pulled away.

“You gargle them well, Agapi.”

Caracalla coughed, throat puffing out in a gag as you wiped his chin with a clean scrap of linen.

“It’s awful! It doesn’t work!” He croaked.

“Have you been hurting or noticing new sores?” You asked.

There was a penetrating silence. So still was the air around the room, you could hear the flame licking against the wick in the oil lamps, as well as the fire crackling in the imperial hearth. While allowing Caracalla to answer, you stood from the bed, shuffling to the diminutive night table– equipped with a brass bowl of hot water that now cooled– to take a brief moment to scour your hands with hot water, natron, and vinegar.

You knew the answer, even within his silence, your beloved was as transparent as blown glass.

“No…” Caracalla admitted ruefully, “But that doesn’t change things. I don’t want it anymore! You said it is medicinal, but it tastes of utter shite and I hate it! I hate you!”

“I love you, Agapi.”

Your voice was so low it was almost a whisper. A breathy squeak that made him stop his fuss, and lean in. The stormy gray of his feverish eyes focused entirely on your form as you wiped your clean hands on a spare piece of dry linen.

“You… you love me…?” Caracalla whispered.

“Yes.” You replied earnestly, “I do. That is why I treat you.”

The sick man leaned back into his pillow, rolling onto the side. Curling up like a pill bug at the slightest hint of a threat, he lay there contemplating your words in the finery of his linens and wool blanket. Crawling on all fours back to the imperial bed, you followed him to lay down. Draping over his hunched back like a rucksack, you lay your head beside his, fingers stroking the cold skin of his shoulder and leaving goose pimples in the wake of your touch.

“No one has ever loved me before…” he mumbled into his pillow.

“I know, Agapi.” You murmured, nuzzling his hair and inhaling the sour scent of vinegar, “And that is very sad. Everyone is deserving of love, my darling, even you.”

His trembling hands pulled your arms around his chest. He held your hands in front of him, whole body shaking.

“Everyone is repulsed by me. They avoid me, they won’t touch me. My own brother pushes me away. But not you… why?”

“You’re just ill, Agapi.” You replied softly, “The rash, the chancre sores… It’s just an illness, like any other. Would you push me away if I told you I had a chill?”

“No.”

Caracalla rolled onto his side. Blue eyes boring into yours as he cupped your cheek tenderly. He pressed his forehead to yours, the two of you inhaling in unison, as if absorbing the essence, the life breath, and sharing in it.

“No… I would never push you away… I would make you rest in my bed, and lay your weary head upon my goose down cushion. I would feed you the piss herb, and tell you stories to make you feel better whilst you choked down the bitter broth.”

You smiled at the innocent sentiment, enjoying the softness of his hot lips as they brushed against yours.

“Just as I did with you when Geta first bade me care for you.” You said, “Remember, Agapi?”

“I remember.”

To placate his brother’s demands for sex even in his feverish state, Geta summoned his manservants to rouse you from your bed at all hours of the night to give yourself to the youngest of the co-emperors. You knew even then he was dreadfully ill, and despite your pity you did not want to get infected yourself. While they dressed you in a shrunken gossamer stola woven so fine the dark of your nipples could be seen, you steeled your heart and prepared for a battle with your leather pouch of herbs.

Geta threw you at his unkempt brother, delirious with fever. Instead of fighting him, you talked softly to him. Coaxed him into letting you care for him by washing his weeping sores with vinegar, sprinkling natron to keep them clean, and ripping his bed linens into bandages to dress the open wounds. You even made a brew of the dried chinaroot rhizome, and after holding his mouth closed and rewarding him with chewed sugarcane to cut the taste, the youngest co-emperor learned to expect the sweet after the bitter.

From then on, Caracalla was your creature. Wholly and entirely.

“You wanted to look after me, even though Geta made you wake from your sleep to pleasure me…” he said, his tone lucid.

“I did it because I love you.” You said softly, showering his bumpy cheeks with kisses, “And I know you love me too, even if you say you hate me.”

“I didn’t say it!” He whined.

His cry was so piteous, like a kitten, that it was easy to forgive the lapses in memory whenever it came to his more biting comments.

“I didn’t say I hate you… I would never…! I love you… I… I don’t know what I would do without you.” Caracalla choked, the warm of his tears staining your stola.

You understood this better than anyone else.

You knew he didn’t mean his vitriol.

“I know, darling…” you whispered, and you fully embraced him as he began to cry, “I know… You shall never have to worry… for I will never forsake you…”

It was one truth you knew you could say and mean, despite your talents as a concubine, a soothsayer… You might have been the only soothsayer in all of Rome who meant it when she said she cared for the youngest, forsaken co-emperor.

#I titled this the little lad dance in my notes #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #emperor caracalla x reader #caracalla x reader #gladiator caracalla #fred hechinger

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prael · 3 months ago

Text

Day 9: Subservience

TripleS Jiwoo x male reader smut

words: 3,980 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"I've known the owner for years. She's really kind and she always gives me extra," Jiwoo explains as she guides you, hand-in-hand, down the street to the ice-cream shop that she swears is the best in the country. You don't question her, she knows what's good and she knows your tastes. You do struggle to keep up with the strides of her long legs. She's still fuelled by annoyance.

The game against the Eagles was a rough one. There were several fights, some more physical than others, but all were fueled by the rivalry. Jiwoo's game ended when she slammed one of the Eagles' players into the boards. It was a rough hit, enough for the ref to throw her out of the game, and you can't blame her. It was a dirty hit. But Jiwoo had been riled up by a series of fouls that the ref hadn't seen. So she reacted, and the player took advantage.

As soon as you step into the shop, Jiwoo visibly relaxes. A warm smile takes over her features that widens once the owner steps out from the back. "Jiwoo! How have you been, sweetie?" the woman gushes as she rounds the counter.

"I'm well," Jiwoo smiles. "And yourself?"

"Always busy!" the woman chuckles. "The business is doing very well." You see Jiwoo's hand tense as it holds your hand tighter. "What are you having today?"

"The usual, we'll share." Jiwoo orders without asking you.

"And who is this fine young man?"

You open your mouth to speak but Jiwoo is already talking before any sound can leave you. She introduces you—first by name and then as her boyfriend, her best friend. It makes your heart swell to hear her speak so highly about you.

You wait for the ice cream to be done, listening in as Jiwoo makes small talk with the shop owner. She seems happy to hear about the great games Jiwoo is playing and asks if next time she can bring some pictures for the bulletin board above one of the booths. It's cute to see her talk so excitedly about her games and everything she does on the team.

Finally, she asks the two of you to take a seat before promising to be over in just a minute. Jiwoo leads the way and slides into a booth in the corner. You sit down opposite her just as the ice cream and a couple of spoons slide into your view.

"Alright you two, enjoy!" the shop-owner exclaims before leaving you alone again. You both mutter your thanks, taking your spoons.

"Thanks," you say after Jiwoo takes a mouthful. "For bringing me out here." She looks up from her spoon and laughs.

"You haven't even tried it yet, here." She takes a spoonful and reaches out to you, pushing the spoon between your lips.

She is right, of course, the ice cream is good. "Really, really good." She smiles in contentment at the compliment of her choice, reaching over to scoop up a spoonful of another flavour.

"The best," she corrects. "So what do you want to do when we get home?"

"A movie maybe?"

Jiwoo raises a questioning brow at your choice as she spoons up more. She pouts for a second. "I was going to say I could fuck you senseless, but sure, a movie." Her laugh makes you realize she is teasing you and you feel the red creeping into your cheeks. The ice cream shop isn't busy at all, just a couple of regulars, but that doesn't stop you from glancing around in case somebody heard. Jiwoo laughs even harder as the worry shows in your expression.

"We could watch a movie first. Before you... you know."

"Oh, I definitely know." Jiwoo chuckles again, this time softer but the fire is in her eyes now, you've seen this before, felt the touch of her fire.

The walk home is peaceful. The sun has just fallen over the sunset leaving a soft glow, the breeze is cool and gentle, and the cars pass slowly. You're the one who is holding her hand now, feeling her body pressed into your arm, leaning onto you as you guide her along the path home, and even without a word spoken, it feels perfect.

Then there's a ring. Jiwoo's phone. She fumbles around for her pocket before pulling it out and sliding the lock screen to the side.

"Yes, this is Jiwoo." You wait in silence, watching her brows furrow. "What the hell? Why?" The look in her eye makes you nervous, you can almost see the steam rising from her ears. She lets go of your hand and stops. You halt with her and listen in. You can hear a voice on the other end of the line but not enough to discern words. Whatever it was, though, it made her mood flip. She ends the call abruptly with a stern 'yeah,' before slipping the phone back into her jacket pocket. Her face has turned to stone.

"What is it?" you ask and place a hand on her shoulder. She turns away from the gesture.

"It was one of the assistant coaches," Jiwoo begins, looking ahead. Her gaze seems lost in the distance, unfocused on whatever was before her but focused on something, something unpleasant. "She's been in touch with the officials, they're suspending me for three games." It's short, sharp, abrupt.

"What?"

"Let's just go home." Jiwoo shrugs off your hand and walks away. You rush after her.

"But that hit was barely—"

"It doesn't matter. Let's just go home."

You leave it at that, following a few paces behind. She doesn't turn to you, doesn't offer her hand, just keeps walking.

As you enter the building lobby you make a point of taking hold of her hand again, as if trying to anchor her in this moment rather than her lost gaze. The elevator doors open and you both step in, her thumb rolls across the back of your hand in a soothing manner.

"I'm fine," she finally says with a deep breath. "I'll be okay."

She throws herself onto the bed as soon as the door closes. Face down, head in a pillow. Her legs dangle over the bed, kicking back and forth. She groans, it's muffled, and she stretches out with a huff.

"Jiwoo?"

Her head tilts to the side to acknowledge you.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

You don't expect much of an answer but you receive one nonetheless, a firm one that makes you gulp. "Yes." She pushes herself upright and stares at you.

"Get naked," her voice is cold and low. Not what you had in mind.

"What?"

"Naked, I need you naked," Jiwoo states again. Her face is stony and her gaze intense. "And on your knees."

Your heart skips a beat. The tone in her voice doesn't suggest this is up for negotiation, not that it matters. She is angry, that much is clear.

"Jiwoo, is this—"

"Did I ask for an opinion?" Her expression stays cold and distant, though there is an unmistakable spark in her eye. She climbs to sit on the edge of the bed and stares through you with that same intensity that is still growing hotter and more dangerous with every second. She crosses one leg over the other, and in those shorts, it is nothing less than a treat.

"Yes, Jiwoo," you nod and start removing your shirt.

"Don't call me Jiwoo right now." You are half-naked and pulling your jeans down to the floor as Jiwoo continues. "From now on it's 'yes miss' and 'right away miss' and 'please let me cum miss.' Do you understand?"

You love it when she gets like this. She's in charge and will not be challenged. You stand in awe for a second as you take in her presence before nodding in response. You drop down onto your knees, naked and exposed.

"Yes miss," you repeat just before shuffling a few steps closer.

She looks down at you, watching intently, then uncrosses her legs to let one foot press to your bare torso. "Good boy," she says. The heel of her foot presses against your chest, and then she kicks out. You're pushed back but regain your composure and return to how you were kneeling before.

"I was so fucking happy earlier!" Her voice is strained as she stands up in front of you. "Now? Now, now, now," she trails off, "Now I just need something to take the fucking edge off."

Her hand snakes around the back of your head to grip your hair. She pulls and it hurts. You look up and are instantly met by her dark expression.

"Do you know how to do something like that?"

You nod in response. She grips at your hair again. There's that pain again.

"I asked if you knew how to do that."

"Yes miss." That earns a smile. It's faint but there. You'll earn more from her before this night is done.

She releases your hair and steps back to sit down again, feet planted firmly on the floor, and her hands on the waist of those short shorts.

"Help me undress." The cold tone is still there and you shuffle forwards again on your knees to obey. Your hands find her thighs first, resting there gently as you lean in, and your lips brush hers with the softest of caress. Your kiss is delicate and gentle, caring even as if you're asking permission to proceed.

"Don't tease me." She huffs and pulls back to glare down at you, and you see the fire there again.

"Sorry, Miss," you offer.

"I told you to help me undress, not play around."

You nod. She is right. This isn't play. Not for you. You reach up for her shorts and unfasten the top button. The zipper goes down quickly and easily. Such long legs and tiny little shorts. Your hands pull at the denim, sliding them down her soft skin and letting your fingertips graze them delicately. You see her underwear next. Pink, cute and such a contrast to the power of its wearer. You throw away the shorts and stare in awe, your mind filling with the thoughts of what comes next.

She sees your expression and wastes no time in calling you out. "You're staring."

"Sorry miss." Your voice is low and quiet.

"It's not yours to gawk at."

"I know, miss."

"So stop staring and undress me, I'm not doing it for you," she snaps. She gestures down and you know exactly what she wants from you now. You know her body well. You know exactly where you should be, where she wants you, and how to please her. And you're not going to leave her disappointed.

With a nod and a 'Yes Miss' you get back to undressing her. The underwear is soft against your fingertips as you hook a few digits around the top of them. She raises an eyebrow, impatiently. Her expression tells you that she is waiting—to have you ravage her. With the fabric held lightly, you pull. Her hips lift a fraction of an inch to help you, allowing you to reveal the pink folds between her thighs.

The pants are discarded somewhere, forgotten as you move in closer, feeling the warmth of her pussy. Jiwoo smirks as you look back up, finding her watching your face and every movement.

"Eat." Her hand pushes your face closer to the apex of her thighs. Her legs rest on your shoulders. Soft thighs hug the sides of your face and the strong muscles tense as she feels you push your lips against her soft cunt. You let your tongue run up the length, taking in her scent, her flavour and her heat. It has you weak in seconds.

Your eyes are half closed as you lap at her juices, and she keeps one hand on your head, her nails raking through your hair. "I needed this so bad." Her words come with a breathy sigh as you suck on her lips. Her head tilts back and she relaxes. Jiwoo moans, softly, sensually, with your head in her grip and your tongue buried inside her pussy.

Her thighs squeeze tighter around your head and her heels dig into your back. "Such a good boy." Her voice is surprisingly tender compared to her actions. "Use your fingers." You immediately oblige. Two fingers sink into her slick wet cunt.

You suck on her clit, rolling your tongue around it as your fingers curl and stretch inside of her. Her sighs and quiet moans start low and light, little hints, little teases. Then the sounds build louder. As your fingers quicken their pace and your tongue beats on her clit, you meet her unspoken demand. Subservience is all she needs.

Jiwoo grips your hair as her moans turn to desperate mewling. "Fuck..." She whines and drags out the word until her hips buck and her thighs tense. In a shivering climax, her voice goes silent and her thighs clench hard. But you're still caught between them. You don't move away, pressing on with kisses and more long sucks until her gasps subside.

"Enough." It's the softest you've heard her this evening, but still, that command is clear and uncompromising. You pull away.

Jiwoo sighs and, while she takes the time to recompose herself, you remain kneeling between her legs in perfect patience.

"Good boy," she comments while her hand is roaming back through your hair. Then she sighs again, leans forward and beckons you to move closer with a simple 'come here.' Jiwoo places a soft peck on your cheek before moving her mouth to your ear. "Stand up and get on the bed."

You do exactly as you're told. Naked and standing, she tugs her shirt over her head. The bra comes next. The toned athletic figure of this woman is enough to make your mouth water, and your throbbing erection twitch, desperate for her to touch. Yet you refrain, knowing, and understanding what this is about. She'll decide when that happens, not you.

As soon as you climb up to sit on the bed Jiwoo moves, too, climbing onto your lap and, once straddling you, making it impossible to not feel the heat of her already wet cunt against your cock. Her lips meet your neck in several rough, hungry kisses and it makes you groan softly, you want more, you need more but you can't have it yet. Not unless she allows it.

"Are you going to behave for me?" she coos, kissing your jaw as she speaks.

"Yes miss."

"Good." The first gentle movement of her hips is torture, the way she ruts against your cock. You're aching for a relief. All you want to do is bury yourself in her right now, feel the tightness as she pulsates around you. "You have to earn that."

Your hands rise of their own accord but you catch them mid-air, waiting for permission to touch, to hold her, to bring her closer. "Please, miss?"

She smiles against your neck, and kisses you again, while the warm wetness of her slick folds pushes down the length of you with slow, tantalizing movements. You moan, louder than you intended and your hips rock up against her, you can't help it. They beg to drive up further, to bury yourself inside her, but you have to wait, wait until she is satisfied.

"What is it? Can't control yourself? Is my pussy making you excited?"

The voice is honey-laced and the heat between her legs, pressed down onto you is torture. This game she plays is nothing less than absolute arousal.

"Yes miss."

"If you can't control yourself..." Her voice trails off as she pulls herself away from you. "Close your eyes."

You nod in obedience, close your eyes as commanded and listen.

A low rumbling meets your ears. A familiar click follows, then a rustle. There are her footsteps next, soft and careful, coming closer to the side of the bed. Jiwoo's breathing is heavy, and so is your own, you still smell the lingering muskiness that lingers in the air. The clink of metal and then the cool sensation of the steel on your wrists causes your eyes to open and stare at the cuffs, binding each of your hands to the bed posts.

"Just in case you don't obey the rules." She smiles and her demeanour is playful, taunting, and seductive. It's her game now and you're just the toy.

"Now, where was I?" Her naked body slides over you. She takes your face in her hands and holds it in place for her mouth to meet yours again.

All you know is the dance of her tongue against yours and the movements of her hands as they run over you. Those long fingers travel from your face, to your jaw, neck and over your collarbone, descending to your chest. Once her hands make it there, she scratches them down along your torso to your stomach. Pain lingers where her nails mark you.

Then the rest of her body begins its motions. Hips roll. Her pussy grinds against you, slick and ready, again and again. Her motions are slow, precise, and calculated. Each kiss and each bite, each scratch of her nails over your body. In turn, your arms pull against the restraints and your cock aches with desire.

This is going to be a long night for you. You're bound, helpless, struggling, desperate. Watching the woman's body undulate above you is maddening. Feeling her on you, feeling her pussy grinding on you is heavenly. Her sharp groans and low moans in your ear make you even more desperate.

Jiwoo shivers, her skin prickles with goosebumps and the muscles in her core tense and relaxes again and again. All you can focus on is the intense and overwhelming feeling of her sex rubbing so eagerly against you. She bites her lip, furrows her brows and leans into her pleasure. Her breaths increase and her movements become erratic.

"I'm going to fuck you until I've had enough," she pants.

This woman can take whatever she wants, whenever she wants. You are no exception.

"Jiwoo..." You can't help it. Her name escapes.

"What did you call me?"

You still. Waiting. Heartbeat in your ears. Worry in your eyes.

Jiwoo shakes her head. She stops rocking her hips and grabs hold of your face, staring at you, almost searching for something as her gaze probes yours. There is a fire in those eyes, like the roaring blaze of a furnace, the blazing sun of a summer day. Fire is a destructive, uncompromising, beautiful, passionate force. The flame of passion burns, you have seen it. The flame consumes as Jiwoo does.

"Now I'm really going to need to punish you. Gonna ride you until it hurts."

"Please," you moan.

She reaches between her thighs to aim your cock towards her pussy and slowly presses down, guiding it through her soft, soaked folds before enveloping you in the absolute hotness and wetness of her cunt. Your eyes roll as she pulls her hips upwards a fraction and then down again, impaling herself, feeling her tighten with her motions.

Slow.

Hard.

She drives her hips down against yours. Your eyes lock again and the flames begin to spill forth. Your legs tremble. Your toes curl. Your back arches, your arms tense and tug against the bonds. The cuffs bite and the bed frame creaks. Each thrust and slam and wet pulse around your rock-hard cock elicits a sound, deep and involuntary, as you try to endure her punishment. Jiwoo knows this, she enjoys it, fucking you over and over, taking her pleasure, she needs this.

Her hips shift suddenly, changing the angle. Everything is better like this, she feels so good, moving, riding, panting. You growl in tortured ecstasy and she seems even more eager. Her grip is so hard on the sides of your body, her nails burying into your skin.

"Ah, right there, yes!"

Jiwoo slams her ass down against your hips and grinds, moving quickly, desperately. And you want her. Fuck, how you want her. But you can't, you're chained to this bed and she owns you now.

"Jiwoo, please!" You have no idea what you're begging for.

A hand reaches up and grasps the bars of the bed frame. Her face comes close. Mouth near your ear. Heavy breaths. Teeth on your jaw.

She releases the bar. The hand meets your face, smacking it. Hard. Pain explodes and your mind spins in agony and lust. Your hips drive up. You cum. Unprepared and powerful. An orgasm hits you so hard that you barely remember the words slipping past your lips—words of release, words of lust. Cum erupts from your dick, throbbing wildly into her. You're saying her name over and over. You're thankful.

You'd be a fool to think she would stop.

No.

In no way is Jiwoo finished with you, not yet. She keeps going, knowing what you can take. The whimpers of your sore cock within the walls of her hot, tight, wet cunt go ignored.

It doesn't matter if your cock is starting to go limp or your nerves are singing in pain, she keeps using you. Her hips bounce on yours, her breath and moans heavy and rough. Her body undulates in lust. Fuck, you're amazed by her beauty, her fire, her passion and her strength, even when you can no longer provide.

Then Jiwoo tosses her head back. Her back arches and tenses. Her skin prickles and her abs tighten. Through the stinging pain, you take pleasure in watching, watching her lose herself. Her sounds are guttural and grow louder as her fingers stroke her engorged clit in hurried, rough circles. Then it happens. She clenches and then nothing, there's no longer the need to move, to breathe or to live, only her orgasm courses through her, wave after wave as her screams and moans mix, you can't distinguish one from the other.

And when finally, the blissful agony has passed, her body collapses. Overheated skin rests against yours, slick with perspiration. For what feels like several minutes there are no words spoken. Nothing but rapid breaths and beating hearts. She doesn't let you slip out of her, not yet, she just lays upon you. Bodies and minds melt together.

Then there comes a whisper. A single word. While your cum begins to leak from her exhausted cunt. "Again."

You choke on your words, holding back your protest. She slowly rocks her hips, spurring your spent cock forcefully back to life and it's all you can do to obey. Hands bound and no choice left, you're forced to let her ride you to her heart's content. After all, everything she does is on her terms.

She keeps her movements slow, languid, barely moving above you. They're not as desperate. Jiwoo can see the way you grimace and takes twisted pleasure in watching the range of pained expressions as she teases. Maybe she will draw it out for another hour, maybe two, until finally she's finished with you, but you can never be certain, not until it ends.

She feels the way your body reacts. Through the oversensitivity of your soft cock re-awakening and regains stiffness as her wet cunt kneads up and down on it. Then Jiwoo sighs, low and heavy and her movements quicken. You know where this leads—more relentless fucking from her, more building up to another screaming orgasm, you tense in anticipation of the same torturous cycle all over again, ready for her to leave you sore and exhausted, only able to simply quiver and convulse under the continuing onslaught of her pleasure.

"Good boy."

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