Embers of Us
pairing : ex boyfriend! anton x fem! reader
genre : smut (MDNI !!), angst | wc : 2.5k
cw : explicit sexual content! mention of alcohol, kissing, praising, unprotected sex, implied creampie
💌: hello !! it’s been a month LOL sorry for the vv late update </33 i got drowned in acads and it drained the shit out of me 🥲🥲 ++ this fic is inspired by "huling sayaw" by kamikazee so if ur a filo, i do recommend u to listen/check that out 😁(proofread so enjoooy)
Life had been filled with the sounds of keyboard clicks, workmates’ chatter, the low hum of fluorescent lights, and the constant, unseen command of life pushing forward without pause. With deadlines rattling louder than clocks, days slipped into nights lit by the glow of screens and half-finished cups of coffee. For you, the routine dulled everything, blurring the edges of the days into one long, colorless stretch of time.
After a long shift, you decided to head to your go-to ramen house — well, the one you used to be a regular at with your ex-boyfriend, Anton. After getting your order, you scanned the room for a seat… and then you saw him. Anton Lee, your long-time love, and the one you never quite forgot.
He was alone, eating, the steam from his bowl curling faintly in the air. He sat slightly bent forward, as if shielding his food from the world beyond, though his shoulders were broader and his hair was a bit longer than you remembered. But his eyes and his nose, that same familiar face, he was still just as handsome as the day you last saw him. You paused for a heartbeat, the past flashing back in fragments, then took a step forward.
“Is the seat taken, sir?” you asked, offering a tiny smile, your voice soft but your chest tight.
Anton looked up mid-bite, chopsticks still poised in his hand. His eyes widened briefly in surprise before settling into something softer, unreadable.
“You’re… late,” he said, lips curling into a small smile, though his voice carried a hint of hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure this was real.
You slid into the seat across from him, the savory aroma of tonkotsu broth and springy noodles curling warmly between you. “Late for what?” you teased, though your hands fidgeted with the edge of your tray.
He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Never mind. Sit. Eat.”
And suddenly, it felt as if no time had passed — yet every unspoken word hovered between you like the rising steam from ramen.
You caught up with him, sharing stories about where life had taken you both after the breakup, the struggles, the little victories, the lonely nights, and the unexpected joys. Words flowed easily between you, one memory tumbling into the next, until you hardly realized how much time had slipped away. What was meant to be a quick meal stretched into hours, the clatter of dishes around you fading as if the world outside your table no longer existed.
“So… wanna continue this at my apartment?” you asked as the two of you stepped out of the ramen house, your voice carrying a mix of insistence and hesitation.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply fell into step beside you, the silence between you saying more than words could. The city lights flickered past in a blur, the night air cool against your skin, until the quiet rhythm of your footsteps carried you both to your apartment door.
The moment the two of you settled, you went over to your mini bar and pulled out a bottle of wine. You poured a glass for him, then one for yourself, and handed it over to him with a quiet smile.
The warmth of the wine and your shared familiarity took the conversation back, somewhat softly. Between sips, memories poured out, some grief, some silly, but each one brought you one step closer to the place you believed you had left behind.
The laughter eventually disappeared and Anton's eyes lingered on you for a bit too long. Even before he made a move, you could feel the pressure of the quiet and the unsaid words. He then pressed his lips to yours as he drew closer.
It was just one kiss at first, tentative, testing , but the moment you responded, it deepened. His hand found your jaw, tilting your face toward him, while your fingers curled against his shirt as if afraid to let go. What began as gentle quickly turned into something breathless and urgent, months of longing compressed into a heated make-out on your couch.
He kissed you again, firmly this time, the kind that made you feel dizzy and out of breath. You could sense the strain in his body, the self-control he was hardly able to maintain, as if he was scared to rush but couldn't help but crave more.
A low sound rumbled from his throat against your mouth, sending shivers racing down your spine as your hands slipped higher beneath his shirt, tracing the defined lines of his chest.
"God… you feel so good," he murmured against your lips, voice low and rough.
With an unhurried motion, he pulled the fabric over his head and let it fall carelessly aside before capturing your lips again.
"Toni…" you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders. "I’ve missed this… missed you."
Time had shaped him in ways that only deepened your hunger for him, yet beneath your palms, his skin carried the same warmth you remembered — familiar, yet changed in ways that made you ache for more.
He eased you back against the couch cushions, his body following until he was above you, his mouth never leaving yours. The press of his weight pinned you there, grounding, intoxicating, while his hand slid beneath your blouse to find the bare warmth of your waist.
"You want me to…?" he whispered against your ear, breathing hot, teasing.
"Y-yes. . . please," you breathed, tilting your head to press against his.
The roughness of his palm against your softness stole your breath, and when his thumb edged higher, skimming just beneath your bra, the quiet gasp that slipped from you was impossible to hold back.
Anton pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath uneven.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, desperate, as if the thought of letting go would tear him apart.
But you shook your head, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer. “Don’t stop.”
"Not… stopping," he rasped, nipping at your lower lip. "Not now, not ever."
Your pulse quickened when you caught the way his eyes darkened at your words. It was as though he was rediscovering every part of you he thought time had stolen from him, his hands exploring with a reverence that bordered on worship.
"Toni…" you moaned, your voice trembling.
His mouth trailed down your throat, leaving heated kisses along your collarbone, each one sinking deeper than skin. Beneath the hunger, every touch, every breath between you carried something heavier—months of aching want, stitched together by a love that had never truly faded.
“Don’t… don’t stop touching me,” you whispered, voice broken, needy.
His kisses turned rougher, hungrier, until the couch felt far too small for the fire sparking between you. With a firm grip, his hand slid beneath your thighs and lifted you as though you weighed nothing.
"Mine," he groaned, pressing his body to yours, voice thick with need.
A sharp gasp escaped your lips, quickly swallowed when your legs instinctively locked around his waist, your body pressed flush to the thick, throbbing ridge straining against his jeans. The contact sent a shiver ripping through you, your nails biting into his shoulders as if anchoring yourself to him.
"Y-yours. . . " you cried, clutching him closer.
He carried you with unshakable purpose, lips never leaving yours, and when he kicked the bedroom door shut behind him, the sound was final — sealing you both away from the rest of the world.
He laid you on the bed, but the pause lasted only seconds, just long enough for his dark eyes to devour you like you were something forbidden, something he had been starved of for too long.
"So pretty," he breathed, lips grazing yours before capturing them again.
Then he was on you again, crushing his mouth to yours, his kiss raw and consuming. His hands roamed urgently, tugging at your clothes with little patience, as though every layer between you was a barrier he refused to endure another second.
"Baby… need you. . " you whispered, nails digging into his back.
Your blouse was yanked over your head, your bra unclasped in a single desperate motion that bared you to him completely. The cool air barely touched your skin before his mouth did—hot, hungry, reverent.
"You’re driving me insane," he groaned, lips closing over your nipple, tongue teasing.
He latched onto one nipple, sucking hard, his tongue circling before his teeth grazed in a wicked tease that sent your back arching off the sheets. A sharp cry tore from your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him to take more.
“Y- yes..Toni. . .don’t stop…” you gasped, breathless.
He groaned into your skin, switching to your other breast, his free hand kneading the soft weight of the one his mouth abandoned, as if he couldn’t decide whether to worship or devour you.
"Fuck… you’re perfect," he muttered between kisses, voice low and hoarse.
Your hands were just as greedy, fumbling with his jeans, dragging the denim down over his hips until his cock sprang free, thick and hot against your thigh. The sheer size of him made your stomach twist with anticipation.
“Mmm… still huge,” you whispered, fingers wrapping around him.
He groaned when you stroked him, his hips bucking into your touch as you savored the heavy length in your hand, each slow, deliberate motion making his breath grow more ragged.
“Fuck…baby. . I need you,” he groaned against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. His hand slid down your stomach, slipping beneath your panties, fingers parting your slick folds with aching precision.
"Y-yes… yes.. please," you gasped, trembling.
You were already dripping for him, and the low growl he let out when he felt it sent heat crashing through you. His fingers teased your clit, slow circles that had your thighs shaking, before slipping inside you, stretching you as his thumb pressed harder on that swollen knot.
"I love you," you moaned, pressing yourself against him.
You were moaning openly now, grinding against his hand, the sheets tangled in your fists. He kissed you through every sound, swallowing your gasps, your pleas, until you came undone around his fingers, pulsing and trembling with sharp waves of release.
"So good for me, baby. ." he groaned, voice strained, as he kept up his relentless pace.
But he didn’t stop. He shoved your panties aside and pushed into you in one unrelenting thrust, filling you completely.
The stretch burned and thrilled all at once, pulling a ragged cry from your lips as your nails raked his back. He lingered just long enough to rest his forehead against yours, your ragged breaths tangling in the silence, before his hips began to roll—slow at first, deliberate, every thrust sinking deeper, pulling you further under.
He started slow, grinding deep, savoring how your body gripped him.
"Y-yes… yes. . . just like that," you moaned, pressing into him.
But the rhythm didn’t stay gentle for long—his thrusts soon grew harder, rougher, each one ripping pleasure through you until the room echoed with the slap of skin, your cries tangling with his husky groans.
"Hnggg. . mine," he growled, voice thick with desire, driving deeper.
You locked your legs tighter around him, begging for more, lost in the way he drove into you like he was desperate to fuse himself to you.
His hand hooked beneath your knee, pushing your leg higher, spreading you open until every thrust drove deeper, rougher, pulling broken cries from your lips.
"D-don’t stop… Toni… please… so.. good,” you whimpered.
His teeth grazed your shoulder before sinking in, his groan rumbling against your skin as he breathed your name like it was the only word he knew.
“God. . . my baby…you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, each thrust harder, rougher, his hips colliding with yours in a rhythm that stole your breath.
Your nails scored down his back as you arched into him, desperate for more, chasing the rush building inside you. The pressure snapped suddenly, your orgasm crashing over you relentless. You tightened around him, moaning out his name as pleasure tore through every inch of you.
He let out a rough curse as he drove into the hilt, cock throbbing deep inside you while his release spilled hot and heavy.
"Yes… yes… fuck… god… Anton!" you cried, gripping him.
His whole body jerked with each pulse, muscles trembling as he ground into you, groaning low in your ear like he couldn’t stop, like he needed every last drop buried inside you before he could finally let go.
For a moment, neither of you moved, tangled in sweat, in heat, in the ragged sound of your breaths.
"I love you," he whispered, lips brushing over your temple.
He stayed inside you, his chest heavy against yours, his lips brushing reverently over your temple, your cheek, your lips, as if he couldn’t stop touching, kissing, needing you.
Lying there wrapped in him, you realized it wasn’t about love reignited. It was two souls grasping at what had already slipped away, seeking comfort in the familiar for just one fleeting night. The heat, the closeness, this wasn’t the start of something new. It was an ending, disguised in tenderness.
Sleep claimed you first, your hand still splayed over his chest, fingers curled as if holding onto him even in dreams. Anton lay awake, unmoving, eyes fixed on the ceiling while the steady rhythm of your breathing filled the silence. Each rise and fall of your chest twisted his heart, caught between the ache of needing you and the hollow certainty that need alone could never be enough.
He turned his head toward you, drinking in the softness of your face bathed in the dim light spilling through the curtains. His chest constricted painfully— you looked so peaceful, so safe, as though the months apart had been nothing but a bad dream. And for one fragile heartbeat, he let himself imagine it, mornings like this, forever, waking with you in his arms, building the life that should have been yours together. A life he wanted with every fiber of his being, and one he knew, with brutal clarity, he could never give you. Not now. Not anymore.
You deserve better. A steadier kind of love. A future without the wreckage I carry. The thought twisted like a knife in his chest.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple… then your forehead… then your lips. His voice broke into a whisper only the night could hear, “I’m sorry… I love you. I love you so much… I wish you all the best.”
Before leaving, he paused for one last heartbeat, imprinting your warmth into memory. He dressed silently and cast one final glance at you, searing the image into his mind. Then, with shaking hands and a heart heavy with love he could no longer hold, Anton slipped out of your apartment, leaving behind the woman he would always love.
-end-
tysm for reading and waiting !! >< my ask is always open, let's talk 🩷
divider from @cursed-carmine 🤍
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