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bitchlessdino · 1 year

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Good Dad, Better Daddy (m)

Pairing: Fem!reader x dilf!Mingyu

Genre: smut, angstish

word count: 8.4k

tags: plot rich, age gap, morally gray reader, medical student!reader, mentor!reader, best friend's dad!mingyu, kissing joshua and brief mentions of jeonghan, forced proximity, domestic au, mention of alcohol, spitting, oral (rec.), praise kink, pet names (good girl) pussy spitting, spanking, daddy kink, exhibitionism, face cumming, pearl necklaces, unprotected sex

Summary: you were hesitant when your friend said you should just stay at her house for the summer, especially knowing you can barely contain yourself with her hot dad around as well as the thought of not getting caught.

author note: so this one is real, as promised. its filthy. messy. and dramatic

@shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @onlymingyus

You had a pretty normal taste in men. It wasn’t extraordinary, like he had to be super talented at one thing or had to come from loads of old money. What you envisioned for yourself was a nice man with a humble heart, great taste in food–if he could help it–be fit and find you just as attractive as you find him.

Kim Mingyu, your college friend’s biological father, could not be this man. He could never be this man. Not for the fact that he is unattractive–good heavenly gods and goddesses, how does a man like this exist–because he is just that, incredibly gorgeous and big and tall and hot.

The point is, you’re still looking, and this summer was the perfect time to do that. The problem was that Minhee–the trustworthy underclassmen/good friend/daughter of the infamously hot dad that somehow surfaced all over campus–invited, well insisted, that you stay with her for the remainder of summer break.

You had gotten close with her over the school year as a mentor, working her though pre-med to prepare her for actual medical school, yours specifically since it was best in the whole ding dang country. You just happen to mention your parents lived out of the way and you couldn’t visit them this year, so summer break had been a fleeting thought in your mind. Minhee, irrevocably delightful and considerate, wanted to show thanks for all the time you put into helping her and mention the spare room at her home half an hour away from campus.

The same home with the incredibly gorgeous father of hers that you had the pleasure of meeting once at a college picnic. It was a hot day, and he wore a sleeveless tank top that was transparent from the sweat of several rounds of volleyball, clinging on to him like a thin additional layer of skin. Attention was on him like a single acorn in a field of squirrels, gnawing at the sight of such a specimen with abs and pecs so taut and round you could mistake them for the brioche buns for the grilled burgers you were all having. And now, you are going to have the pleasure of living in close quarters with him. Only God knows how this would go.

“Good seeing you again, Y/n. Need help getting that upstairs?”

Mr. Kim, who urges you to call him Mingyu instead, is pointing out the duffle bag the size of a human being loaded on your back that you physically struggled to carry in. You remember your mom once pointing out how it looked ridiculous strapped to you like that. That was the point mother. It eliminated any potential advances.

You grin back at him with wide, platonically amicable smile, “Nope, all good,” then made your first steps over to the stairs and you can practically feel his presence lingering behind you as you walked up, probably waiting for you to fall so he could catch you in his stupidly large arms.

“Are you sure? I’m all for being a feminist, independence and what not, but I don’t know if I can let a bag that big potentially get you to trip fall down these stairs. Just had them remodeled.” God, his smile was dazzling, and those pretty canines could mark you like a badge you’d wear proudly.

“I’m good, Mr. Kim. Your glossy wood boards are safe under my feet, I promise.”

He scoffs, following you back up the stairs. “What did I tell you about calling me Mingyu, hmm? Plus you’re a guest. Since I’m the one that’s paid off this house, that means something.”

Please. He’s so witty, funny, and charming in addition to being so, so hot. This was going to be a long summer.

You toss the bag on the bed in the room Mingyu had claimed would be your ‘home away from home,’ and you smile at him in gratitude for keeping the peace.

“While I appreciate it, it’s all good. Thank you, though.” You were painfully aware of your hair sticking out in the most unflattering angles, your cheeks warm and face sweaty from climbing up a flight of stairs, and your loud obnoxious pants that could compete with your old neighbor’s golden retriever that had breathing problems. Nope, not even giving him an opportunity to think about any potential of being in bed with him. The question was, were you trying to convince him or yourself?

“Well then, Minhee is with her mom for another hour, so you won’t see her until then. If you’re hungry I could always whip you something up in the meantime. Save you some lunch money.”

Before you could protest, the eruption of thunder in your stomach interrupts you, earning Mingyu your sheepish grin and you one of Mingyu’s know-it-all smiles. “I guess a sandwich or something couldn’t hurt.”

He beckons you with a head tilt. “Come on down, you can help me. We can make something for Minhee before she gets here, too.”

Let’s make things clear. When Kim “DILF” Mingyu asks you to follow him to hell, you follow him to hell. When he offers to make you food, you happily devour it. And when he asks you for help in the kitchen, you tell him “yes, chef,” like you’re his doting little follower. You convince yourself it’s because you grew up with manners in your household. Helping elders was the least you could do. Mingyu, being much older, just naturally fell into that category.

“So, Minhee has only good things to say about you. I can’t thank you enough for helping her.”

He shoves the fabric of his button up to his elbows and proceeds to grab things from top sleeves you wouldn’t otherwise reach, handing you a grater and block of cheese to conjure up some of his famous Kimchi pasta. You’re carefully holding the grater steady by the handle, taking the block from the tip and spreading. “Well, Minhee’s awesome, I can’t thank her enough for being amazing. Getting into medical school was insane for me and she’s just breezing through. You have a very intelligent daughter, Mr. Kim.”

“Mingyu.” He repeats, as if telling you once wasn’t enough.

You shake your head while scrunching your nose. “Doesn’t roll off the tongue for me, sorry.”

Pouting, he glances at you in a light-hearted glare. “Fine. Treat me like a stranger. Eat my food like I’m a personal chef. I'm just Minhee’s old man after all.”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips. “Fine. Mingyu. Happy?”

“Much.”

His tone is happy, playfully, yet effortlessly alluring. Especially as he strides your way, standing mere inches away from you to retrieve a bountiful cheese nestling inside the grater, which he scoops up into a bowl to put in his decadent red sauce simmering over the stove. He meets your eyes in a soft gaze, the one that makes you hear music in your head, politely asking, “more please,” and tossing bowel’s contents to the pan.

He wants more cheese, you’d grate more cheese. What you did not intend was a piece of your palm to get caught in the metal. You wince, causing you to drop the cheese grater and hold up your hand to examine the damage.

“What’s wrong?” He immediately comes back to your side and takes your hand in his large grasp, seeing the cut for the first time, fresh with red. “Be more careful, please.”

His eyes crinkle in concern, thumbing over the sensitive layer skin, and releasing a sigh from his lips. Your eyes flutter, startled at his quick return, feeling the tension of his forearms as it brushed against yours. He could’ve not looked more attractive than this very moment and now you were wondering how many accidents you can get yourself into before he starts suspecting they’re intentional.

“I’m okay. Just a bit of a scratch.”

The way his eyes flit back at you in disbelief, almost as if there’s anger in them, and that simple look makes something in your chest do somersaults. “Are you kidding me? You’re bleeding. I’m getting first aid.”

“Mingyu–”

“Sit down, Y/n.”

Why, yes, sir.

You take the seat on the bar stool, watching as Mingyu momentarily turns off the stove and grabs a little red box. He pulls it apart, setting most of the contents on the counter. He treats the cut delicately, quietly, gracefully. Making sure it’s properly clean from infection, he places a bandaid, trapping in the sensitivity.

“Thank you.” You squeak out.

He gives you a soft grin. “Not a problem. Didn’t expect to be babying two girls this weekend.”

Babying. That word lingered in your mind longer than it should have. It invades your brain, crawling into the inner workings of thoughts pushed aside and echoed in your head. It bothered you and you have the faintest idea why.

You snicker humorously. “I’m definitely not a baby.”

He shrugs, smoothing out the adhesive. “Of course not. Not many babies are accomplished enough to graduate cum laude to get into medical school with 4.0 GPA, while building a philanthropy for families that suffered from loss due to the worldwide pandemic.”

You shyly shield away hearing that. You hadn’t expressed that part of your life often with other people. Most of the time, you are found out, having people commend you when the topic is brought up. But you didn’t do it for attention, including Mingyu’s. “Minhee told you that?” You watch for his response, seeing his lips curl up in a foreign method.

“No, she didn’t.”

You shake your head, bemused. “How did you hear that then?”

“I did my own research on you. Making sure you weren’t some kid making Minhee out for a quick buck.”

“And?” You had a feeling there was more to it.

His posture has shifted, expression somewhat twisted, and eyes fixated on you. Like he is undressing you in his head as we speak.

“I wasn’t disappointed.”

A gust of wind expels from your lungs and despite the vagueness in both your words, it’s as if you were speaking your own language. He lets go of your hand, but visibly craves being closer. Cursing his better judgment, he doesn’t take the risk, and instead takes a step back instead. Your arm lunges forward, off your seat and towards Mingyu, and your hand wraps around his forearm. You trail over his expression, cautious and hesitation, and you let a digit impulsively run down his arms, now pebbling in goosebumps under your touch.

“Why do you look scared of me?” you ask, now grinning.

He looks as if he wants to brush off the comment, but his defense fails to let him. “Why would I be scared of you?”

“You tell me, Mr. Kim,” You raise a brow. “Or I’m sorry, Mingyu. Since that is what you like me calling you. Mingyu.”

He scoffs, feeling backed into a corner. The image was funny since he had the very build to do that same, but here he was. Trapped. Being interrogated. None other than a college student only a few years older than his daughter. “Can you blame a guy for wanting to make things less awkward?”

“What is there to be awkward about–I’m not awkward,” you lie through your teeth, pressing a palm to your chest, “Is there something you feel awkward about? Mingyu.”

His name burns on your tongue differently, stark in contrast to its original purpose of dropping formalities. Maybe it could drop pants instead.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Y/n.”

Looks like you’ve hit a nerve.

“I’m simply trying to get to know you better, considering that’s what it sounded like you wanted. Are you trying to get to know me, Mingyu? What things do you want to know?”

His bottom lip drops from the corner of his mouth, blinking back at your taunts in intrigue, and shifts the weight on his legs. He takes the moment to scan you from head to toe, deliberating your question, leaning closer against you until you find your back digging into the marble of the counter. His hands plant on either side of you. His warm breath fans your cheeks, spicy cologne surrounding you at all angles, and he ponders at you from the dark wisps of hairs that fell at his eyes.

“Are you ready for that answer? Truly?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, already caught in those eyes that now trailed over your body shamelessly. He looks at you as if he held back this whole time and has finally let loose of the reins. His hands smoothed over the marble, meeting each other, locking fingers, and trapping you in his careful embrace.

Your hand falls to his first chest, feeling the pure stone beneath the thin layer of fabric on top of him. You let out a shallow breath, eyes roaming over the man you so desperately wished wasn’t constantly in your mind. God, did he feel utterly exquisite.

Your hands trail up the nape of his neck, lifting yourself from your toes, and let your lips ghost over his. Your hot, anxious breath fans his face, and the pulse you feel under your palm heightens. “I think I have a right to know a lot of what you’re not telling me.”

‘Fuck me. Fuck me right now against this counter. I promise I’ll be good. Please lord, give it to me.’

Your wishes aren’t granted when you hear a car pull up and Mingyu immediately backs off, shaking his head like falling out of a trace.

‘No! No! Minhee. What the fuck? What the fuck? I was this close to fucking your dad and I was willing to do so much.’

You internally sob, hearing the beep of the vehicle go off, and a few seconds after a jangle of keys, the door swings open. “The prophetic child had arrived!”

You settle into the marble in defeat. Trying to muster up anything other than disappointment on your face as you watch Mingyu retreat from you and wrap his arms around his daughter. “Took you long enough, kid. Was thinking you forgot about me.”

“How could I even think about leaving the two of you alone in one place? You are embarrassing enough.”

His arm slings over her shoulders, planting an old fashioned noogie on the crown of her head. “Take that back. Say I’m the coolest.”

“Dad, what the heck? You’re so annoying!”

Minhee talks a lot of smack, but she smiles the brightest around her dad. Their smiles couldn’t be any more different, considering she got that from her mom, but you could see a lot of Mingyu in Minhee. Your stomach is now bubbling up in guilt, momentarily grim, before pushing yourself to meet her halfway. “Hi, Minhee.”

“Y/n!” She shoves Mingyu out of the way and grips you with so much force and warmth. “You really came! Gosh, this summer is gonna be so great.”

Minhee takes you aside, switches eyes back and forth from me and her father, chipper like an elf the day after Christmas. “My two favorite people in one summer. Don’t tell mom.”

“Why not,” he joins your embrace, fingers brushing against your bicep making your micro hairs stand stiff on your arm. “It could really bother her with this. I have every mind to.”

“Don’t you dare! Anyway, what's for lunch?”

Mingyu doesn’t pay the slightest attention to you during the meal after what almost transpired in the very place you prepared it. You fork over your food door in contempt, watching their animated conversation long enough to analyze their relationship. Minhee is as easy going as her dad, all smiles and radiance, and while Mingyu was well into his age, it doesn't appear so as he emits this natural youth that seems to combat age better than that of the most expensive, luxurious cream on the market. He aged incredibly. Even the smell of fermented cabbage couldn’t bring disdain to his presence.

“Hope dad’s been nice. He can be a lot.”

You’re pulled away from your thoughts and you smile back at the younger girl, not letting it reach near your eyes. “Oh, he’s been…inviting.”

Mingyu clears his throat at that, hands giving out in a slight tremble as he reaches over to retrieve his beverage.

“Probably overly inviting. He has a habit of that, but that is usually what scares the bad ones away. He’s always given my ex-boyfriends this illusion of comfort and hospitality, but then rips them apart when they say anything remotely critical about me.” She playfully shudders, “he can go psycho.”

“I am right here, darling daughter.”

“Good, because you needed to hear it.”

You chuckle in amusement, feeling honored you get to witness such a wholesome relationship. Their familial interactions eventually come to an end and dishes are gathered to get washed. You volunteer yourself to help, reasoning with the Kims that you were a grateful guest living here for free, and that this was the least you could do.

“Not with your cut.” Mingyu points out.

Minhee’s eyes shoot open at you. “You got a cut?”

“It’s fine,” you reassure, “I’ll wear gloves. Why don’t you get the movie ready that you’ve been wanting to watch?”

“I actually thought of taking us out, if that’s okay. We should spend the first night out, not at home. Silly.”

“Oh?”

You hadn’t thought about leaving the house much, only expecting a few dinners out when the night prompted, but it was a Thursday afternoon. What much was there to do on a hot summer weekday? What was even open?

“There's just this place I wanted to check out since getting back into town and I just know you would love it. Please?”

You were actually really hoping to finish that moment again with Mingyu, calling in a bathroom break when you’re really having him rail you down the stairs with his hand clamped over your mouth. “Sure. Why not? We deserve it.”

Minhee claps with joy. “Great! I’m gonna get ready.”

The girl makes her excited steps up the stairs, the thumps of her feet distancing from earshot as you come up over the sink. You pull the gloves over your forearm as warm water runs down the rubber. “I guess I should hurry up and get ready too.”

You peer at Mingyu from the corner of your eyes. For the first time, an unreadable expression is on his face, and he’s taken over in silence. He thinks to walk over, hovering his footing, and gradually approaching you in a smooth stride. “You girls have fun.”

That was a strange response considering your moment together. You direct your body to him, “Um, Mingyu, are you acting strange becau–”

“We should let what happened not come between us. Just a fleeting moment. Natural with two adults. You understand.”

With that he walks away from you, only having his back into view as tracks his way back to his room, leaving you abandoned, horny, ashamed.

Fuck it. You will have a good time.

As soon as you and Minhee were both ready, you’d have a great time out, and you’d make sure of it. You leave the house together, punching the thought of Mingyu away and enjoy drinks at the new bar located a short drive from her place. The atmosphere is lively and well and the drinks, although pricey, were delicious nonetheless.

The occasional image of Mingyu mere centimeters away from you would appear in your head and with that, you immediately swallow down your drink, drowning him until it’s a blur. It helps that Minhee liked talking, and you dind’t mind in the slightest. She was good company, one of the many reasons you like being around Minhee. It seems that you weren’t the only one to agree as you swarmed by company.

They introduced themselves as Jeonghan and Joshua, two gentlemen that planned on scoping out the location to see how it competes with theirs, evidently poaching new clientele. They urge both you and Minhee to visit their place another time, persuading you with a few free drinks and perks they were willing to give. You looked back at Minhee, seeing the same temptation in her eyes you felt in yourself, and you accepted, letting them know you’d be coming.

The rest of the time is a blur–enjoying the presence of the music, eating, drinking, enjoying your first night out in a long time–and you feel a body against yours. You turn your head to see Joshua, finding the warmth of his strong, thick body lost in yours. You indulge, feeling the sweet release of liquor on your tongue and allowing him to roam your body with no protest.

You let a few moans slip, his hand automatically creeping over your waist. He grins angelically, but him on you feels like a constant devil on your shoulder. “You’ll make it, right? I’ll only come into work that night for you.”

You giggle like he said the funniest thing in the world, turning to face him and putting your hands over his shoulders, staring into his big eyes. “I promise.”

He holds you close that night, like Mingyu should’ve, but it does not breach the point of dancing. You appreciated that. When the night came to a close, you and Minhee got your UBER home. You wave away that kept you both company tonight and come back to Kim's residence a little lighter. Mingyu was nowhere in sight when you got home, so you drag Minhee up the stairs before that happens.

It takes a minute to wash her up, but eventually she gets into bed, and falls into a peaceful slumber. You were ready to have your turn. Peeling off your clothes, washing your face, and showering everything off was going to feel like a reset. You weren’t going to let the disappointment from today dictate the rest of your summer. Kim Mingyu was not why you came here. You were here to have the time of your life with your closest friend.

Walking out in the hallway to retrieve toiletries and extra clothes, there he stood. Shirtless–of course, he was–tan, taut, large. This man was a fucking mountain. He drags himself over to you in his gray sweats. “You’re both home late.”

“Night got away, sorry.” You weren’t sorry.

“As long as you’re both safe,” he grins kindly, “How's your hand?”

You bring it up in the air for him to see. “Perfectly fine. Didn't even feel it.”

Doubtful, he gets to grab it, ignoring your feeble protest. He turns it from front to back, stepping closer to you, shooting electricity throughout your body. The longer he lingers in your proximity, another one of his senses takes over. Nose stifling breaths, he’s leaning in, inhaling the scent on your body. You feel heat running up to your cheeks, flustered by his sudden urgency. “Do you always wear men’s cologne?”

Confusion displays on your face. You pick up the top hem of your blouse for a quick sniff and there it was, the scent he was referring to. Some concoction of sea breeze and sage lightly coated your clothes. Must’ve been Joshua. “Probably caught it from someone from the bar we went to.”

“You met someone?” He asks plainly.

You shrug, an unsure smile on your face. “I don’t know.”

There’s an unreadable look on his face you catch until it turns solemn, dropping your hand. “Get some rest.”

He trots off to his own room, his dark figure shrinking as he gets further away. You take a long sigh the moment he’s gone from sight, wallowing in that sinking sensation of knowing what had happened this afternoon. The position you place yourself in, the position he placed himself, was over.

After showering, you went to bed hoping the next day would be better. You shouldn’t have been sad. You had a decent night. Drank loads, danced all night long, mingled with people you don't feel guilty about. And tomorrow will be a new day.

Morning is spent with a Kim’s style breakfast, which means an abundance of anything they can make with leftover ingredients from the kitchen. Mingyu was bright and early along with Minhee, and she didn’t look like she lost one hour of sleep that night. She greets you as friendly as always and Mingyu follows.

You join the meal in silence, playing off as recovering from the night before–which wasn’t wrong–and eat your portion, feeling it fuel the unruly mood you were in. Damn, he was a good cook.

“You girls have anything fun to do today?”

Minhee answers with utter delight. “I’m taking Y/n to this other bar we were recommended last night.”

You nod in compliance with that.

“Well, if that’s all, why don’t we go grocery shopping? I’ve been setting all kinds of guest stuff at the house but forgot to stock up the fridge. You and Y/n can pick out whatever you need. I’ll pay.”

You look up, stopping him. “You don’t have to do that.”

He shares that kind of look he gives when he’s in front of his daughter, but a ghost of the lusty gaze was still fresh in your mind. “I’m not forcing myself to do anything. Just hoping to be a welcoming host. Think of it as a family outing. You get to be one of us.”

Minhee snorts at that. “Could you be anymore of a dad?”

“So what I’m hearing is you don’t want free snacks and sodas to have at the house?” He reiterates in hopes of tempting her.

“Well, I didn't say that.”

Mingyu laughs, turning back to you. “So?”

“Sure.” You respond with a forced smile.

Minhee made no concern about making a dent in Mingyu’s wallet and if he minded, he didn’t show it. You figured with the big house they have that this would be no different from a kid in a candy store seeing her spring everywhere and excited to show you local products only sold at this specific market. You would giggle at anything and all comments she’s made coming across something out of the ordinary and Mingyu would trail behind with his full cart like the dad he is.

“Oh my god, I think I just saw someone! You and dad, wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Minhee trots off by herself, leaving you and Mingyu alone again in your awkward silence. Having nothing to say, you didn’t, and you assumed he wouldn’t either.

“I don’t want things to be weird,” he starts, “it was a lapse of judgment on my part.”

“Mingyu, please,” you whisper, “she’s ten feet away from us.”

“And I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he leads the cart so he’s walking beside you, towering over you like the skyscraper he was, “Coming on to you wasn’t the plan. Minhee respects you, cares about you. And why wouldn’t she? You’re amazing.”

You shirt under his words, dismissing it when you throw a family size bag of ruffle chips in the car. “Been wanting these.”

“I’m just sorry. I’ve clearly bothered you, disrespected you, and I didn’t intend for any of that.”

“Why are you saying this now,” you ask in a hushed tone, causing him to stop the wheels, “what are you even doing?”

He sighs, dropping his head in embarrassment, unsure either, but it seems as if he wanted to clear the tense air. You appreciated it. Most men that have done way more than what he did would’ve flat out ignored you regardless of the situation. Ghosting became a globalized norm. Mingyu’s confrontation, although stress-inducing, was somewhat refreshing. Different from previous men you’ve had relations with, platonic or not.

“Minhee is the most important thing in my life and you are someone very special to her, more than you know.”

You nod in agreement, understanding his sentiment. “She’s special to me. My best friend even.”

Mingyu sighs in relief. “So, we’ll forget what we had happened?”

“Forget what happened?” You grin in the end.

He smiles back, looking up as Minhee reunites with you and you feel as if things are back to normal. Minhee is still your closest friend. Mingyu is just her hot dad. And that’s it. That was that. You were fine thinking that for the rest of the summer.

The rest of the day was all leisure right up until the evening. As the light outside dimmed, You and Minhee were getting ready to go out again. The attire was slightly more done up than the previous night, boosting your confidence. You added a dark shadow paired with tighter clothes and Minhee couldn’t help but gush at your appearance. Loving this girl was too easy. You trade her the same excitement and bounced together in the anticipation of another exciting night.

You followed her downstairs, ready to leave, and Mingyu the last thing you see before you make your way to the door. “Have fun! Be safe.”

Leaving with a new life on lease, that seems to change when catch a glimpse at his face shutting the door. The darkness in his eyes, how they scan from up and down your body in a swift lick, burned in your memory. And you once again feel that feeting excitement he graced you once with.

You made good on your promise to the guys from the other night, and they were one of the first few faces you see as you enter. You join them, getting the free drinks they swore to give and experience more of the night life. Compared to the previous bar, this had been much more lively, rowdy, touchy. You made sure to be careful, carrying both your and Minhee’s drinks with hands hovering over their open lips. Minhee gathers her less than sober self to go to the restroom, insisting there's no need for you to come and that’d she’d be fine.

“Are you sure?” you ask in concern, and she repeats herself, pointedly shifting her eyes to the man behind you in mischief as she makes her escape.

Joshua meets your side similarly to last night, grinning that gorgeous grin, looking back at you with those pretty brown eyes, and large hands traveling over your body in a practiced-movement. “I was happy to see you came.”

“Oh?” you smile back, hands over his neck.

The small distance between you both leaves so little to the imagination and feeds some of that intimacy you’ve craved since coming to this part of town. You don’t look at him to know he wants you. From the way he cradles your sides, coming down‌ your shape, to how his hips lightly dip back to yours sensually, generously. You press up to his body in need, believing you want it too, but when you test your limits, you’re faced with reality.

The moment your lips meet, you hope to feel something–anything–but in the back of your mind a voice taunts you. It laughs back at you. Pressing the big red X button like it was broadcasted talent show.

It was a nice kiss. Somewhat decent, with nothing inherently wrong with it. But it didn't leave you wanting more.

‘He could never be him.’

You part from him abruptly and‌ in a few words of apology he understood, stepping back with a small smile. How you wish it could’ve been him. It would’ve been so much easier if it were him.

You go off to find Minhee, searching for her up and down. Going to the restroom couldn’t have taken that long, then there she was, dancing on the small stage right by the DJ. Everyone cheered for her as she did her performance, as did you, but it all came to a close as she tumbled right off, hitting the ground and landing on her side.

“Minhee!”

No limps were broken, no twisted ankle, or broken ribs, but drunk off her rocker, and it's proven true as you hear her slurring her words. You lightly slap sides of her face to gain back her consciousness. Not even seeing her flinch, you knew she was long gone.

“You probably get her back home safe in bed,” Jeonghan says stepping in.

You conceded, apologizing another time this night for things that should’ve been in your control. Mingyu was going to hate you for this, but you needed her home safe.

You wave at the male duo and a few other friends you made from the cab and tend to Minhee as she loses to sleep. You amble on to carry her weight back to the house, shuffling through her keys to reach past the door. Making too much noise and taking too long to find the right key, it open from teh other side, meeting Mingyu who stares back at you with startled eyes.

“What happened to her?”

There’s a calm fury in his voice, and guilt festers in the pit of your stomach. “Help, please. I’m sorry.”

He comes to Minhee’s other side, grumbling to himself as he helps guide her upstairs. She drops on her bed in heavy plop, her snores following. You both tiptoe towards the door and shut it quietly, not wanting to disturb her.

“Now, I repeat, what the hell happened?”

He had every right to be angry. You did this, you could’ve prevented this.

He lets you a deep exhale, quietly shouting his daughter's name in anguish. “Minhee, what the fuck?”

“She drank too much,” you admit, “She left to go to the restroom. I should’ve gone with her.”

“You think? You both could’ve gotten severely hurt, or worse.”

“Mingyu, I'm so sorry.”

He takes a moment of silence. “It’s not entirely your fault. Minhee overexerts herself sometimes. forces her to let loose twice as hard to make up for it. I wonder if I taught her that.”

“No, of course not. I'm her best friend. I should’ve kept an eye on her.”

“You were there to have fun, not babysit. Look, Minhee may be that right now but it’s because I couldn’t support her properly, because of me she has developed these unhealthy habits.” he sighs. “Though, after the divorce, I wonder if I was ever a good father.”

You tug at him in disbelief. “You’re a great dad! Minhee loves you so much. She talks about you all the time. “

His gaze softens, pulling lightly at his t-shirt, “She does?”

“Yes, like how you cook for her on sick days so that she recovers twice as fast. Or when she was little, she made a scrapbook out of the little lunch notes you made her. Or when you confronted her boyfriend at that picnic, getting in his face and yelling at him. Yeah, she was embarrassed, but she was more relieved that it got out there at all. You are the person she loves the most. You’re so amazing and sweet and kind…Mingyu, I don’t want to forget about yesterday.”

His eyes harden at your shift of tone. “Y/n, you promised–”

“Yeah, well, that was before yesterday when I didn’t think I had a chance with someone like you.”

You draw yourself closer to him, closing the gap, feeling him fall weak for a moment, reciprocating. His lips were plush and sweet as you hoped, stark in contrast to his firm torso you felt through his shirt. He pulls away, holding you at a distance.

“Y/n, we can’t—“

“I kissed someone tonight.”

He immediately tenses up, his hand overlapping around your wrist, speaking in a lethally soft voice. “What?”

“We danced, got super close, and we kissed.”

The moment you mention it, Mingyu immediately smells it. The dreaded cologne. He takes it in once again and grits his teeth in anger. Jealously quickly become a evil on his shoulder. “Same bastard?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, “but I wanted him to be you. I can't stop thinking ab—“

His lips fits over yours, his hand pressing into the arch of your back. He kisses you with so much carnal rage you can taste blood on your tongue and he launches you from the ground and around his waist. You dig your fingers into his scalp, kissing him deep, whimpers leaving your lips like a needy puppy.

“Not here,” he quickly states, before carrying you off to a room at the end of the hall. Fuck, was this a large house.

Once the door locks behind him, not bothering to turn on the lights in the almost pitch black of night, he takes your lips to feel his unadulterated power as he pins you to a wall. “Mingyu—“

“I’m not speaking to you, so you can forget about hearing a response.”

With much struggle, he pulls your panties out, or should you say tears it off of you as it drops tattered to the ground. That was fine. You can buy a million pieces of underwear, but there was only one Kim Mingyu. His pants fall abandoned on the ground, revealing his cock gloriously rock hard below you, looking even aesthetically beautiful with the moonlight peeking out from the window.

“You can speak now. Do you want me to fuck you, Y/n?” he asks menacingly, almost daring you to answer.

“Yes, Mingyu, please fuck me.”

He leverages you on the wall, fishing a condom out of a nearby drawer. Rolling it on, he lines it against your slit before he makes himself known. Your eyes roll back at the stretch, fingers digging into his shoulder as he bounces you on his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.”

Mingyu throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you.

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrived from it, came to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

He pays your climax no mind, pushing you off the wall and pushing you into the sheets face down. You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“You can look, but remember. Stay quiet. Got it?”

You nod back, obeying, biting into the duvet.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the bed. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could've been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into the rubber. The moment he pulls out, it’s over. It’s truly over. You knew it’d happen that way but the pain didn’t feel any less real.

“Wash up and get to bed before Minhee sees.”

The door shuts and once again, you’re all alone.

In that shower, you sob, washing away the remaining grime, filth, guilt. And after everything that’s happened, you still hoped he’d fuck you like that again.

The next few days goes by and you don’t get that opportunity again. Instead, Minhee took up most of your days. You’d go to the market, watch movies, meet her friends and make them your own, grabbing take out and dinner reservations until you’ve scoured every part of town. And Mingyu, well, he’s staying on the sidelines, observing, never mentioning the your night of intimacy.

You hide it through smiles, good food, good company, but you dying on the inside, thinking to yourself how things got this way.

You missed his body, his warmth, his cock fucking you recklessly, not caring if he breaks you. The guilt you had once for betraying Minhee deteriorated over time, replaced with Mingyu, and just Mingyu.

That’s then you made an opportunity. You just need Minhee out. Calling up the friends you made in the area, you arranged a time and place she'd be for an extended time without you. Your reason for staying in: medical program information. You expected her to understand, and once you told her, you were proven right.

She left as soon as your mutual friend had arrived, waving you off as she entered the car. An unsuspecting smile on her face before she closes the car door. What she won’t know won’t hurt her.

Now was the moment to put it to action. You’d have it that Mingyu couldn’t run, couldn’t avoid you, couldn’t ignore you. And you only had a few minutes until he got back from his run.

Hastily, you slip out of your modest clothes before getting into a skimpy one, deliberately showing off your assets. You take your place on the couch to wait, using channel surfing as a way to pass time.

Hearing the sound footsteps coming up the front door made your heart race, immediately going to position yourself at the entrance. When Mingyu opens to see you on the other side, he could hear his heart drop at your ensemble. His eyes fell immediately at every tiny piece of clothing barely covering you body, feeling his member harder quickly. He quickly shuts the door before anyone else can see what he’s forced to and glares at you. “What is this?”

“Welcome home, Mr. Kim.” you answer cheekily.

“Ming—where’s Minhee?” He shoulders past you, getting to the kitchen to get a drink.

“Out,” you answer, bouncing behind him shamelessly, “I told her I had something to do while she’s gone so I could stay behind.”

“Do what,” he grits, slamming the plastic bottle on the counter, “lie to her, do something that might hurt her behind her back?”

It stings, it really did, but you lacked more morals than you realized.

“It was the only way I could get you alone.” you step in front of him, twiddling your fingers.

“What is it you want, Y/n? Haven’t you done enough to me?”

You blink at him knowingly, thinking how dare he could play a victim. “You know better than anyone that it was a two-person job. We both wanted it.”

He rolls his eyes, annoyed, “Well, it was a mistake, and I should’ve quit while I was ahead.”

“I want more, Mingyu.”

He squeezed his eyes tight, slamming the empty bottle to the floor before responding, “Why are you being like this? What is wrong with you?”

He’s angry and rightfully so, but you wanted him, so badly you’d fight for it. No one–not even Minhee–at this point could stop you.

You latch on to him, not missing his lips. You pull yourself against his sweaty, musky form until you can feel the outline of his body on yours. He forces himself to pull away with a rough tug. There’s a moment of bizarreness on his face before giving in and reconnecting your lips, furiously kissing you as he places you on the kitchen counter. His tongue is quick to find yours and pulling your top over your breasts to play with them, squeezing them harshly in his hand before tweaking your stiff peaks between his fingers.

“Mmh, daddy…please, please fuck me.”

Mingyu pauses, returning twice as rough, pressing into the sopping core that seeps out your shorts, eliciting a whine from your end. The waistband of his sweats grinds into you like he’s a machine: starved, automated, merciless.

“You want me to fuck that bad? Hmm?” He tucks your legs around him, digging in you deeper, slapping the skin of your thigh that reached your ass. “You’re gonna be a good‌ for me to use? Let me fill you up with my cock?”

“Yes, I want your cock fucking me, please,” you plead in a high-pitched voice.

“Fine. This time and never again.” he lifts you off the counter and takes you to his room. Dumping you in bed, he pulls his muscle tank off and rips off your shorts from your body.

Right then and there, he claims the heat between your legs after spitting right into the center. He devours you, jaw gripping from the underside of your folds as his tongue runs rampant in your core. His face is damp in the matter of seconds, but your nectar is all he can think about as he fists his erection through his sweatpants.

“Daddy, your mouth is so good…you’re eating me so good.”

A hand comes on the skin of your thigh again, coming as both a warning and encouragement. He gets lost in you, inhaling you, falling weak at you. He swore he never would again. He’s already done enough thinking about you from that one picnic. The way your hair bounces in the light or how your clothes hug your body as a gust of wind blows past you. You radiated such light in stark contrast to the weak, needy beauty before him. It was on so many levels wrong, but he pointed it to all factors of being sex deprived. Of course, it was normal to find a younger attractive woman sexy. She was an adult, but wasted on him finding out how closely you work with his kid, the kids he loves so much and would kill for.

But you. God, damn it, you. He wanted you just for a second and he took it, only for you to come back wanting more. A mirror image of himself. Unlike his initial findings, he has more in common with you than he thought.

“I’m close daddy!”

His tongue runs faster, harder, feeling the taste of your core go from one taste to another, feeling the cum coat his mouth like liquid gold. With a last jerk to your legs, he moves over to tower at you, prying your mouth open and dropping your fluid in your mouth, seeing it seep out of the corner of your lips before kissing you. He drags the taste around, gripping you by the chin, grunting in your mouth.

He kicks off his sweats, pulling you up by the arm, and allows you to straddle his lap. His cock prods at your stomach, flicking back at the soft section of your stomach. You run your fingers through hair, hovering on top of him, mere atoms away from putting him in you. You had the mind to ask breathlessly, “Condom?”

“I’d have to get up.”

A quick moment of panic runs through your mind. “I’m clean, but–”

“I’ll pull out. And cum anywhere else.”

You take a hard gulp, but give a definite nod. Not letting go of his embrace, allow the round tip to slide over your wet slit–sweet mewls leaving your lips–before you let your walls hug around his raw girth. Initially frightening, given that you weren’t willing to take this kind of risk before–you were a med student and staying safe and clean was rule one–but every inch cover around your walls stretches euphorically.

You let out an anguished moan adjusting to his size, but with how wet you are, it wouldn’t be a problem for long. You roll your hips down, taking him all of him, incomprehensive mumbles leaving your lips while taking strikes against your ass, stinging with every touch. “Being such a good girl for me, letting me fuck you…”

He squeezes the flesh of your cheek, teeth pulling on the bottom of your lip. “It’s my pleasure, daddy…”

God, you loved it, every second.

Minutes passed and he’s only pushed harder, plunge deeper, filling in that crevice of yours until you’re spent all over his bed. He bruises you, bites you, swelling your skin. He finally let go of all the inhibitions that once held him back. That’s when he gets close, cursing under his breath. You fall back on the bed as he pulls out, thick white ribbons shooting thin in the air to cascade over your face and chest, even on your tongue. He pants hard, unable to tear away from the decadent view he’s witnessing. You are usually lovely beyond compare, but you were absolutely breath-taking adorned by his cum.

He had to have more of you.

Although he told himself it’d be the last, that was far from the truth. Since that day, he took every opportunity to have you and without a word of defiance against you. You had your days with Minhee: breakfast, brunch, lunch, sometimes dinner. But he had you at nights, or at days the house was empty. He made it last. All of it. All of you.

Eventually, as school started up again, you’d have to leave, and he gave you one last moment in the shower to commemorate it, putting an end to this summer fling.

Despite missing Mingyu, you were excited to get back on track. You set your back in your newly leased apartment, smiling back at the memories you’ve made in the time you were away. As you were putting away the last of the things from your disgustingly big sack, your phone goes off, Minhee’s name brightly lit on the screen.

“Hey, Minhee. I just got in,” you greet grinning.

“Aw, that’s good. I think you left something behind, though.”

“Shoot,” You shuffle through your belongings, trying to think what that thing could be. “What did I leave?”

“Hard to tell, I think it’s…the truth?”

Your eyes shoot open at the sudden hostility in her voice. “Minhee, I—“

“Are you fucking my dad, you bitch?”

#svthub #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen #seventeen kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x reader #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you #kim mingyu x y/n

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insolentgod · 6 months

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⚠️Attention:⚠️ very long post. It talks a little about: state of lack, take your desire off the pedestal, time it takes for a manifestation, get distracted about your manifestation , self-concept, and Cassies

one more night high and having crazy epiphanies about manifestations. and another day using a translator to translate my text to post here, because I haven't claimed to be fluent in English yet 😛 So, as I always warn, if there are possible grammatical errors, it's for this reason.

I'm here to bring you an analogy I created while discussing with a friend haha. (Yes, this time there's nothing about lana del rey!)

you know those people who humiliate themselves for others? Who do everything for someone specific to love them, try to talk to them even if it's unhealthy, or beg them to stay in their lives. (yes, it's quite depressing and sad)

i haven't been like that much in life, usually when someone didn't care about me, i cared even less about them. but I won't lie, there have been situations where I may have humiliated myself a little, but it's human.

anyway, going straight to my analogy, let's imagine that you struggling to manifest something is a friend "Cassie," and the manifestation will be her ex-boyfriend, okay? (i swear it will make sense in the end)

what I write outside the parentheses is Cassie's situation, and what's inside the parentheses is possibly the situation you're going through on your manifestation journey.

okay, you have this friend Cassie who keeps saying that her ex-boyfriend doesn't care about her, doesn't respond to messages, and shows no signs, and she's going crazy and desperate about it (just like you when you see no progress in your manifestation). so she does EVERYTHING to get him back (just like you when you try multiple methods non-stop and feel needy). and as Cassie's friend, you think, "poor cassie, she doesn't deserve to suffer like this" (and she really doesn't deserve it, just as you don't deserve to suffer for your manifestations). there are also moments when she sends a message for you saying, "I'll forget him this time, I promise." but after two days, she's there messaging him again (just like you affirm on the first day all motivated and trying to convince yourself that this time your manifestation will come true, but after a few days, you see no progress and start panicking), and then she gets very sad because she thinks they will never get back together and she will never be happy with him again (just like you think you can't manifest anything, that the universe hates you, that you will never get what you want, that the loa doesn't work). But meanwhile, there are other people out there getting back with their exes and you admire them, wondering what it would be like if it were you... (just like when you look at other people's success stories and think "why can't I do it?") spoiler: You can do it too, honey. If everyone else can do it, so can you. Wake up.

If I were Cassie's friend, I would tell her to STOP acting like that and start valuing herself and just distract herself. because let's be honest, men ALWAYS come back, right? 🤣 and many people may disagree with me on this and think that if she doesn't chase after the guy, he won't come either. but that's how it works for me, even before I started using the law. every time I started valuing myself and stopped begging for others' love, the person came to me. so let's agree with my thinking on this, okay?

and one more point that I think is worth mentioning is that if Cassie really doesn't want to do this alone, maybe a manifestation coach would be a good idea (if it were a real situation, I would suggest her to seek a therapist). There are nuances about "manifestation coaches," I honestly don't use them and I recommend working on your self-concept. but it's an option if you want, but please do thorough research and find a trustworthy one.

returning, what can you do to not be another Cassie? I'm telling you to stop doing whatever you're doing to try to achieve your desire? no. just get out of the state of neediness and desperation, like a Cassie. you don't need that, my love. you don't need to worry, "Is my manifestation coming?" You don't need to use a thousand methods because you don't think it's enough. whatever you believe will bring your desires, will indeed bring your desire. If you believe that jumping three times, building a castle, and kicking an elderly person will give you what you want, guess what? If you do all that, then you will get what you desire. and if you believe that affirming once in your life will get you a beachfront mansion, guess what? you will achieve that.

so, to not be a Cassie:

1 - trust what you're saying, please trust yourself. nnow that ONLY WHAT YOU THINK is the truth, and it will be. (my last long post talks about this exactly, I highly recommend it, okay).

2 - take your desire off the pedestal. your desire may be your biggest dream in life, I don't care. take it off the pedestal. the powerful person who can have anything they want is YOU, not your desire. tou are a thousand times greater than your desire. you don't chase after your desire, your desire chases after you. you know when manifestation coaches tell you to start manifesting just a blue butterfly or a candy? well, it's because for you, that's not difficult. It's something you find easy to manifest and know it's totally possible to have. but you can literally manifest a Porsche at the same speed as manifesting an ice cream, okay? take your desire off the pedestal; you are fully capable of having it.

3 - get out of the state of lack. In the law of assumption, some people talk a lot about states and some manifest just by being in the state of the wish fulfilled and ready, they succeed. but the state of lack is literally when you feel the lack, the absence of your desire. you don't feel like you have it or you don't feel worthy of it, so you probably fall into a spiral of despair with millions of thoughts like "what will I do if I don't achieve it?" "I don't see any progress" "time is passing and I don't have my results". Anyway,

- But what do I do to heal my state of lack?

just don't be in it 💐💐💐 yes, it's easy, okay. please believe that it's easy and it will be. I know it's very easy to affirm when you're motivated, especially after reading a success story. but motivation doesn't last forever and I don't think it's healthy for you to keep restoring your motivation by reading success stories all the time. there's nothing wrong with it, but you don't need success stories to heal. every time you feel like you're entering the state of lack, start trusting yourself. when it happens to me, I start affirming "none of this, I have my desires" "I don't care about what my 3D shows me" "I have what I want", I also imagine myself with my desire as if I really have it now. I'll admit, there are times when I start affirming this to avoid entering the state of lack and at first it feels like I'm feeling wrong, the feeling of hopelessness even. but regardless of how I feel, I keep visualizing and eventually start feeling strong and motivated again. in those moments, you have to be strong and disciplined with yourself, okay? you can do it.

4 - try not to care about time or the 3D reality. i know it's difficult, but please live in your imagination and believe that if you have it in your imagination, you have it now. about time, it depends, okay? Some people manifest in seconds because they believe they can, while others manifest in weeks because they think it takes weeks. if you're the second type of person, you can definitely manifest in seconds if you allow yourself to do so. self-concept affirmations help a lot in this aspect. Just don't worry about time in the 3D reality. If you know that in your mind you have your desire NOW, then you have it now. once you're fully living in your imagination, it will come in the 3D reality. I know it's difficult, but just trust yourself and your mind. I promise that if you live 100% in your mind, your desire can come very quickly.

5 - distract yourself! don't spend the whole day thinking about your desire. usually, the desire comes when you accept that you have it and continue living your life. I know it's complicated, especially when it's something you want, but distract yourself to avoid excessive and negative thoughts about your manifestations. and please get off tumblr for a while

6 - improve your self-concept, please. Just do that, and your manifestation journey will be much easier.

I think that's it for today. I talked a lot as always 😛😛

I usually don't respond to people asking for help here on my blog (mainly because I don't receive any requests) but if you're having problems, you can send me a message, and I'll respond ❤‍🩹 I just want to help someone like loa bloggers helped me when I needed it. good night everyone, and stay hydrated.

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aleksanderscult · 4 months

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A follow up to my other question; if we had a sun summoner (basically an entirely different person than Alina) that really was the strong-willed person who wanted to stand by his side and take part in his fight for the Grisha, what do you think he would have wanted that to look like? (And i mean beyond the fold-plot part of the show because we know the plot of s&b and how she messed everything up.) Do you think he would’ve ever allowed the sun summoner to act as a soldier as he had? I think I have a hard time imagining an Aleksander that would allow the sun summoner to go out and be in any possible danger without him present which sounds incredibly limiting to what they’d actually be able to do. I can’t imagine them being allowed to make very many political moves if he got his ruler/queen without his say so and approval, (especially not alina because every political move or even thought she had was actively stupid or the opposite of helpful) so I struggled to understand what he would’ve wanted and expected from them post-expanding the fold. Would a sun summoner with military experience or political experience like himself be able to ever convince him to let them go on military missions by themselves without him? I’m basically trying to understand what we could’ve had he would’ve been like. What would he actually be like if he had gotten the strong-willed, empathetic, political savvy with a functioning brain kind of sun summoner and what Aleksander wanted…and deserved. So much of the character we saw with Aleksander was who he had to be when dealing with someone like Alina, who just couldn’t think for herself, didn’t want to, had no political understanding on the most basic of levels, and didn’t have a spine for practically anything. This isn’t an anti-alina ask, i’m just wondering what type of Aleksander we could’ve gotten with the type of person i described above and what he would’ve wanted from them and allowed them to do. I’m really curious as to what he could’ve been like and truthfully what he had in mind because I struggle to picture what he actually wanted or what he would’ve done had he gotten the type of summoner he deserved

Okay, let's pretend that he got the Sun Summoner that he truly wanted and dreamed of (as you said).

First of all, he would take his time to figure her out. Her views and opinion about him and the Grisha persecution (just like he did with Alina in S&B). Let's say that she passed the test here. Let's say that he found her logical, strong, determined and fierce.

The next stop would be for Aleksander to trust her. He doesn't trust someone easily and he would have to make sure that this girl is worthy of his own thoughts and plans. That would take some time and it would depend on how trustworthy and honest that Sun Summoner would be. Let's say that in time she passed this test too.

The next problem we have is that Aleksander is a controlling person. He wants to have the upper hand on things like ruling, taking military decisions etc. In the beginning, I imagine her taking her with him wherever he would go. Both because he would want to keep her close and out of his desire to teach her things. Like "Look how I'm handling things. Look what needs to be done. Observe and learn". Because I kinda doubt he would ever find a Sun Summoner all ready and knowledgeable about matters of the state like he is.

That's why trust is important for him. Because he would have to make sure that she can be counted on for important things and she wouldn't turn against him or usurp him.

I don't believe that in the beginning he would let her take full control of the kingdom or even an equal stand with him, but! If he saw her ready to fight and take part in wars he would take her with him in the battlefield and, in time after seeing her getting stronger and stronger, he would let her go by herself. Like "We've got a situation on the northern borders. Take one hundred men with you, finish them off and come back." And that's because it would be impossible for him to be everywhere at once. He couldn't be both in the battlefield with the Sun Summoner AND stay on the throne and deal with other, ruling matters. Sooner or later they would have to split and he would be forced to let her go and let her do something by herself. It's inevitable and Aleksander would know that. Sometimes they would need to share the responsibilities. Sometimes Aleksander would have to go to Fjerda to deal with some drüskelle while his Sun Summoner would have to stay in Os Alta because an important meeting with some Kerch ambassadors must take place and other things like that.

Now, about the ruling matter. Yes, he would make her his Queen but for how much liberty and freedom he would allow her to have in making decisions by herself is a debatable matter in this fandom.

Here's my own opinion of it:

In the beginning, if she would try to make a decision by herself, he wouldn't like it. Because he's not used to have others take major decisions (having the King rule him in S&B doesn't count here because in that occasion Aleksander had no other option but to obey him). So, in the first years, it would be kinda difficult for him to get used to it. He would probably not let her decisions be put into action. Like "don't overreach yourself, okay. I'm in charge here".

But! (and this is important)

I don't find Aleksander to be that kind of person who gets crazy feral if his Queen disagrees with a decision of his. If his Sun Summoner spoke reasonably about her disagreement, if she was calm and logical with her own reasons of why she finds his verdict wrong, he would listen to her.

Alina in R&R had said to him that "We would be equals until I disagreed with you. Then you would do to me what you did to Genya."

I disagree. I don't see him that way. Just like I said, if her own argument is spoken in a calm, reasonable manner and in a respectable, honest way, he would actually listen to her. He wouldn't be "OH MY GOD YOU ARGUE AGAINST ME!! DUNGEONS NOW!!"

It's all about the way she'll say it and what is the reason of their argument.

With Alina it was different because she spoke out against him for a matter of high importance: his fight against the Grisha persecution and, of course, Alina's character didn't know shit about politics, wars and what needed to be done.

So, in conclusion, in matters of warfare he would allow her to go by herself if he deemed her powerful and capable to go by herself without getting killed or captured easily and having the right knowledge in fights and strategy.

And in matter of ruling, it would be strange for him if she started and taking decisions by herself from the first week and he probably wouldn't like it. But as the years would go by, I think that not only he would allow her to have a saying but also he would ask for her advice (YES YOU HEARD ME RIGHT).

(oh and about your question if he would allow her to become a soldier: yes. Mainly because all Grisha become soldiers and the Darkling is a man that believes in having fighting skills. Let's not forget how he was teaching Grisha to learn hand-in-hand combat apart from developing their Grisha powers. Plus, I don't imagine him wanting someone that sits on the couch everyday. As much as he would fear for her life sometimes, he would want her to be a fighter)

#that meta is all about what would happen if he had found the Sun Summoner he WANTED btw #the perfect one etc.#(someone with logic and guts👀 *Alina I'm looking at you*)#anon asks #the darkling #pro darkling #meta #darkling meta #grishaverse #shadow and bone #grishaverse trilogy #aleksander morozova #ruin and rising

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crybaby-bkg · 5 months

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sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: bit of PDA, beginnings of a panic attack, unresolved sexual tension, brief violence in the end. Word Count: 6.8k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

“So, let me get this straight,” Vanity says around the food in her mouth before swallowing loudly, making you chuckle. “Number four hero, Dynamight, not only moved you into his apartment, asked you out to become your boyfriend, but he’s also making it public by taking you to the annual hero gala?”

The silence stretches on in the quietness of the warehouse, both of you looking at each other over the bowl of noodles you share. You pretend to be thinking, scratching your head a little before humming.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” You shrug faux nonchalantly, before a huge grin breaks your face. “This whole thing is…wild to me.” You whisper though, voice suddenly small as everything starts to sink in. Just about a year ago, you had made it your mission to take Dynamight down for some sexist comment he made. And now you’re comfy cozy with each other, sharing kisses and falling asleep together on the couch.

“Yeah, I would’ve never imagined this for you, but, I’m happy. You look happy.” Vanity tells you with a small smile, her eye casted low before she looks up to take all of you in. There seems to be some kind of glow on your skin, the air around you lighter and softer, something she doesn’t think she’s ever seen before.

“I’m jealous,” Vanity states plainly, before she swallows thickly again, looking around the room. You reach out to grab her hand, feel how it shakes in your grip before you squeeze her, a concerned look passing over your face.

“Really? What for?” You ask her, head tilted to the side. She places her chopsticks down, gathers both of your hands, and it breaks your heart the way her chin wobbles ever so slightly.

“Of the fact that you can trust men again.” She whispers, voice shaking with every syllable.

“It’s not all men,” you interject but she shakes her head quickly at you, her hair falling in front of her eyepatch.

“Yeah, I know, but its one. And its one that has so much status and power in the world, and yet he’s actually not a piece of shit.” You both laugh softly at that, you giving her an unsure face that says, ‘really?’ before you two laugh again. The room falls silent, sounds of distant bustling sliding up from the downstairs area of other vigilantes moving about.

“I’m jealous that you can work through your issues, that you can progress in a relationship, and that I just can’t seem to get it right.” Vanity says after a while, squeezing your hand tight in hers as her eye starts to water. You want to hold her close, like how she’s always held you whenever you struggled, but she keeps you at arms length for the time being.

“I want to build that trust again, but one of them took my fuckin’ eye, ‘Dusa.” Vanity snarls out, her mouth trembling, her teeth grit, her cheeks muddled with quick dropping tears. You feel your own jaw clench, get a flash of that scared and broken and bloody girl on your doorstep, crying for help, calling you her savior. It makes your chest tighten, as you shrug away a tear quickly when it falls.

“How can I work through my own shit when all of my resentment is built up, ready to explode straight from my fuckin’ empty socket?” She asks you, head bowing when a sob tremors through her body. You hang your head with her, tears steadily leaking into your lap, into the bowl shared between you. Ever since you met Vanity, she had never shown any interest in men, but that didn’t surprise you, given her past. But you would’ve never guessed that you finally finding a man that’s actually trustworthy and a better person than you believed them to be, would rake up these kind of feelings.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble out, feeling her pain course throughout your own body. You understand her, her troubles, her past, her trauma. You were captured, yes, but she was maimed. Mutilated beyond repair. What could you do in a moment like this? How could you even have a moment like this, knowing what she’s been through? How selfish could you be to share the happiness you’re experiencing, the growth, knowing that she is still trapped in this warehouse to escape the demons that lurk outside, ready to pluck out the other eye?

“Please don’t apologize.” She tells you through a hiccup, using your hand that she’s still holding to wipe away her tears. “You shouldn’t not share your joy with me because of my own issues. It just makes me wish I was as strong as you to work through them.” She finally looks up to give you a lopsided smile, squeezing your hand in hers. Your lip wobbles as you shake your head at her.

“I’m not strong though,” you whisper, clenching your eyes shut tight before you force them back open. “I kept my gun on me the first two months of staying there. I had a panic attack every time I had to leave my room because I thought he would attack me.

“I still fight with myself every time I want to further the relationship because I’m scared; I think I’m undeserving; because I think he might take advantage of me, even though my mind knows he won’t.” Your voice is shaky, tears escaping, as you hold onto Vanity so tight, afraid that if you let go, she might somehow float away.

“But my body is weak.” You admit, and she nods in understanding at that. “It remembers the pain that I’ve gone through, even though I’ve tried time and time to forget it.” You whisper. You think back to recently when Katsuki hugged you from behind and kissed your neck, and how it made you panic and push him away, the confused and hurt look on his face. You hadn’t meant to respond back like that, but your body holds onto all of the times your captor had done you the same way before he would drain you of your quirk.

“I’m not strong, but I am working through it day by day, and he helps me in any way that he can.” You murmur, head bowed as you bite at your lip until you taste copper. You think back on how Bakugou bounced back from the confusion, how he apologized, how he comforted you when you became frustrated with yourself, how he now makes a little noise before coming up behind you as to not startle you. You’ve started to accept back hugs a little easier, now.

“You just have to work through it.” You promise Vanity, giving her a pointed look before you pull her into you. She falls into your embrace, squeezing you tight as she inhales deeply. Her exhale is shaky, but her words are firm.

“I will.” She nods once, her hair tickling your chin. You two stay there for a while, ignoring the passersby in the hallway who duck away to give you two privacy. After a few moments, does an idea strike you, and you whisper into her hair,

“When you think you’re starting to get a little better, I know a certain redhead hero I could introduce you to.” You singsong, laughing loudly when Vanity pulls away quickly, holding you by your shoulders as she gives you a serious look.

“If it’s the hunky unbreakable one, I wouldn’t be entirely opposed.” She tells you with a nod, making you laugh even harder. She joins you, both of you holding onto each other before falling over onto the floor together, just barely avoiding the noodles.

You two lay there for a while, giggling, making your little inside jokes none are privy to, and you like it that way. You love the new life you’re starting for yourself, but you miss this more than anything. You just want Vanity to be there with you, to become better, to heal. It’s the only thing you’ll ever wish for in life.

…

The night of the gala comes up quicker than you had anticipated it. You had been working as a hero for about ten weeks now, still never giving the press your hero name since Katsuki and Deku had convinced you to wait to drop it at the gala.

It would be a big sort of thing, that you’re not only coming out officially as a hero, but as Dynamight’s girlfriend. You weren’t too big of a fan of the girlfriend thing being such a big deal since you were your own person first, but you could understand why it would be big news. Dynamight hasn’t been seen publicly with a partner in six years, so everyone would expectedly make a big hoopla about it.

So, with all this pressure falling onto your shoulders, nervous isn’t even the fucking word for how you’re feeling. You had taken the day off from hero training, driven by Katsuki to some hotel just a few blocks away from where the gala would be taking place. He had told you that you would be getting ready there, because they had an official hair and makeup artist to help you, specifically.

What you would be wearing was previously designed by Eddie a few weeks ago. Bakugou had already picked out his outfit; a silk ash gray button up paired with black slacks. But you wanted something a little flashier than that, just barely. Something to push you a little out of your comfort zone (just barely!) because you wanted your official first outing to be memorable. But—

“My chest is out.” You whisper as you sit in the makeup chair, hair already dolled up, as they bring your dress out to showcase it on a rolling coat rack. Your stomach sinks and cramps, your hands suddenly getting clammy, and you fight the urge to wipe the quickly beading sweat from your upper lip.

“Why is my chest out? This wasn’t the original design I agreed to. Where’s Eddie?” Your voice is going a mile a minute, shaking as you take in the dress that was almost—so close—to being perfect. You look over to Bakugou who’s buttoning up his shirt, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“He dropped the dress off and left right back out. This isn’t what you wanted?” He asks, head cocked in confusion as he rushes over to stand beside you. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the pretty sight but—but this isn’t what you wanted.

“No,” you snap at him, quickly standing from the makeup artist’s chair, flittering around the room in search of your phone. “No, I wanted this design but higher up on the neck. My chest is supposed to be covered.” You whisper frantically, feeling your skin get hot at the thought of what could happen—the media sees your tattoo, puts the pieces together, condemns you before your hero career can even take off from the ground. You’d be exposed to everyone, and all of those who were connected to you would go down with you.

How would the media react knowing that Dynamight is dating a former vigilante? One who so many people had deemed as a nuisance, as a villain, as someone who should slink back into the shadows of where they came from? You would ruin him and Yuu and Deku alike, knowing that they put their careers on the line for you, under the condition that you never reveal your past.

What the fuck are you gonna do? Will Katsuki kick you out if you fuck up his career? Will you become homeless, loveless? What the fuck?

“Don’t worry, I got you.” Katsuki says, suddenly standing in front of you. He holds your upper arms gently, his head ducked down so that you’ll finally look up at him. When you do, your eyes are frantic, full of tears, as the endless amount of possibilities of how you could screw up everyone around you comes crashing down onto you, the weight of your shoulders sagging.

You don’t get to utter a word before Katsuki flitters off, pulling the makeup artist with him into a conjoined room. He’s already on the phone by the time he closes the door, voice hushed as you go back to stand in front of the almost perfect dress.

Eddie, you think to yourself as you wrap your arms around your body tightly, what happened? What happened to the perfection you promised you would make me? How could you get so close and yet fall so far?

The dress is damn near everything you asked for. It’s a midnight black with blue tints when the lights hit it, covered from head to toe in sparking gems. There’s a slit up to your knee on either side, the back curving down just beneath your shoulder blades. The chest is supposed to be a halter top, similar to your hero outfit but instead, it dips down low so your cleavage can be exposed. How could something so close to perfection, wind up so short?

Everything else is right—the earrings, the necklace, the rings, the shawl, the shoes. You were so confident about tonight, so sure that you would finally feel comfortable in wearing what you wanted to wear without gross men leering at you and trying to touch you in public. But now, you’re not even sure if you can still attend. Disappointment gnaws at your flesh, as you sink back into the makeup chair, letting a few tears fall freely. No need to worry about fucking up your makeup since you’ll probably have to return home earlier than expected.

You’re about to stand to go to the bathroom, when the conjoining door suddenly opens. Bakugou emerges with the makeup artist, and you can see him tucking some papers into a nearby drawer before the makeup artist returns to her station. She starts picking around a few things, mumbling to herself all the while. You glance at her before looking back to Katsuki, hopping out of the chair as you walk over to him briskly.

“What did you do?” You whisper-shout to him, afraid of what answer you may receive. But he only twists his mouth a few times, looking down his nose at you before folding his arms over his chest.

“Made the makeup artist sign a NDA.” He answers after a few beats, gaze falling away from you before he looks up through his lashes. Your eyebrows downturn in confusion though, glancing back at the artist who now stands ready with a smile on her face.

“For what?” You ask, turning back to him. Katsuki places a gentle hand on your shoulder, covered by the baby blue robe the hotel had gifted you when you arrived. He watches your face as he slowly starts to pull the robe down your shoulder, your eyes widening in confusion, face burning at the thought of what he might be trying to do in front of the few people still in the room.

“So she can cover your chest and not spill what she saw to the media.” Katsuki whispers, eyes falling to your chest when the edge of crimson ink comes into sight. Your throat tightens at that, in surprise, mouth falling open although no words come tumbling out.

“Your identity is safe, okay? We’ll talk to Eddie about his fuck up tomorrow.” Katsuki promises you, pulling the shoulder of your robe back up. You blink up at him, unsure of what to say about what he’s done for you.

He…helped you, when he saw the panicked look on your face. Didn’t respond back in anger when you snapped at him, but instead found a solution that would calm your nerves. What could you say to him for something so small and yet so life changing?

“Thank you so much.” You whisper to him, pulling him down by the front of his shirt for a kiss, something soft and sweet and airy. You rest against his mouth, eyebrows scrunching up lightly, a confession dying to fall from your lips,

“I…” love you, you finish in your head, but your words die out when Bakugou’s assistant barges into the room.

“Twenty-five more minutes until we have to leave, guys!” He calls out, smiling at the two of you when you both take a step away from each other, shy. When he ducks back out, you and Bakugou share a look, one that says a thousand words, even though he can’t seem to form his lips around the right thing. When he seems to have swallowed down everything wrong, he opens his mouth, but the makeup artist is beside you, whisking you away.

“We’re gonna cover that tattoo, alright? It shouldn’t budge at all tonight.” She tells you with a grin, steering you back to the makeup chair to touch up what you messed up on your face first. She’s gentle in her ministrations, despite the many times she has to tell you to look up or down because you keep looking at Katsuki. He’s leaning against the wall, watching you get everything done since he finished getting dressed already himself.

“Could you remove this for me?” The makeup artist asks, her voice quiet as she stands in front of you. You look back over to her, confused, before you realize what she’s referring to.

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper, glancing back over to Katsuki, who’s suddenly so very interested in his phone, despite how his cheeks are a muddled red. It’s not like he hasn’t seen them before, you think to yourself.

But you shrug off your robe until it fall in your lap, your strapless bra being pushed down a little so the artist can have full access to your chest. She works quietly as she blends the makeup into your skin, the products cold and the brushes soft. She powders you down after what feels like hours of repetitive movements, fine tuning everything until she steps back with a smile on her face.

“Here,” she says as she hands you a mirror. The sight almost unnerves you, as you think back on—reminded so cruelly of—the person you used to be when your chest was still empty. On one hand; your identity is still hidden, you keep everyone around you safe, your chest a blank canvas, a sight you haven’t seen in so long. But, on the other hand; you feel naked, stripped of who you are, of what you became, of what made you you. You know its for the greater good, but at what cost?

“It looks great. Thank you.” You say robotically, nodding your head to the artist. She smiles at you before bowing her head, going to pack up her stuff as Bakugou’s assistant peeks back in.

“Ten more minutes!” He announces. That makes you spring into action though, waving goodbye to the artists’ that leave you to get changed, as you take your dress down from its hanger. It’s only you and Bakugou left in the hotel room, and the air becomes charged when the door closes for the final time.

“Need a hand?” He asks you, already plucking the dress from your hands as you fully undo your robe. You stand in front of him in only your undergarments, suddenly feeling just a bit too vulnerable in front of the handsome hero.

“Of course I do.” You tell him, gesturing for him to unzip the dress. He only smiles though, lending his bulky shoulders when you need some stability to step into the pretty dress, hiking it up your hips for you. When the thin spaghetti straps sit on your skin, does he stand back, but not too far, never. He’s chest to chest with you, and he smells better than you could have ever imagined; something soft like fresh sheets and folded laundry with a hint of icy mint. Your lids lower as you take him in, as he does the same to you.

“You want me to zip you up?” Katsuki asks softly, hands finding your hips. You nod to him once, gasping when he turns your body for you, his hips slotted against your backside. You say nothing to the poking at your lower back, looking over your shoulder at him as he ever so slowly zips your dress up, hands palming your hip all the while, his fingers gentle where they creep up your spine.

Without a word, Katsuki leans down to press the softest kiss to your neck, your jaw tilting to allow him more access. He presses you back against him, the feeling of his hardness making you gasp, knees suddenly getting weaker than you think they’ve ever been.

He holds you close to him, your breathing getting heavy when his hands start to inch around to the front of the dress, sliding down to hook inside the slit. His palm glides over the inside of your thighs, the other reaching around to cup you gently through the fabric, petting you with thick fingertips.

“When we get home.” You tell him in a sigh, taking everything in you to pull away from him. When you turn around, Katsuki is grinning, wiping a hand down his face as the other rests on his hip. You try to ignore the obvious bulge in his pants, face burning, as you turn to pick up your shoes.

“Help me with these, and don’t make it horny.” You tell him, trying to hold as much authority in your voice that you can, but its shaky at best. Bakugou outright laughs at that, shameless, and kneels down in front of you to buckle up your low heels. He can’t help but press a feather soft kiss to the outside of your knee when he finishes.

After that, everything goes smoothly. You’re rushed out to the car by his assistant, driven over to the museum where the gala is being hosted, and presented onto the red carpet. It’s all nerve wrecking, the way everyone turns to you all because of who you’re with. But you don’t let it deter you, holding your head as high as you can, smiling softly at the cameras and the people who call for your attention.

Bakugou holds you close to him the whole time, ignoring those who try to wave you off to get a picture of him alone. When they start to pester too much, he only snarls at them before directing you a little further down to get away from those shit heads. His hand is planted firmly around your hip, and it becomes an anchor when the bright flashes of light start to become too much.

When the pictures are over with, do you move into the pit of people doing interviews just off the red carpet. They keep trying to overlook you for Bakugou, but he has none of it, keeping you plastered to his side with a warm hand firmly holding onto your own. Finally, does an interviewer turn his attention to you, microphone shoved into your face as you duck back a little with a frown.

“May I say what a beautiful dress you’re wearing tonight!” The interviewer says, grinning at you. You nod your head back, barely able to get your thanks out before he’s cutting you off with a question.

“And who might you be, accompanying the awesome Dynamight tonight?” He asks before his eyes widen in recognition, his grin somehow getting even bigger. “Are you the unnamed hero that’s been on the field lately?”

Bakugou squeezes your hand tight in his, and you glance up to him. He sends you a wink of recognition, making you think back on the conversation you had with him and Mrs. Kubo before, on how to do this media shit. It was a little daunting, knowing that if you said the wrong thing during your first official impression, that the rest of your career could go to shit before you’re even named. So you look back to the interviewer with a sure smile, nodding once more.

“Yes, I am.” You say simply, not giving out any unasked for information. That garners the attention of other interviewers almost instantaneously, people suddenly flocking over in your direction with their mics pointed to your face. But you keep your eyes on the original interviewer with a calm gaze.

“And what is your name? The media has been dying to know!” He exclaims.

“I go by Firebird.” You state, smile brightening as more shouts for your attention start to trickle in. Bakugou shoulders some people away when they get too close, and you squeeze his hand in thanks. It’s overwhelming, a little, with so many people looking at you, trying to talk to you, get to know every single thing about you, all the while being so goddamn close. Bakugou must be able to sense it though, as he squeezes your hand once more before he starts pulling you away from everybody.

“Oi, leave my girlfriend the fuck alone now. Answered enough of ya shitty questions.” He announces, and that only makes the crowd go crazier. Questions of what your quirk is starts trickling in, how long have you two been together, is marriage in the near future. You can’t help the deep breath that you suck in, reaching over to pinch at his flank when he carves a path for the both of you to get through the hoard of interviewers and paparazzi.

You two keep walking until you finally enter where the actual gala is being held, the spacious room filled with paintings surprisingly a lot quieter than it was outside. You walk a few feet in, slowing down as you both look around for some familiar faces.

“You just had to announce that I was taken, you shit head.” You mumble lowly, only for the two of you to hear. Katsuki grins at that, pulling you away into a secluded corner, as he wraps you in his arms tightly until your back arches under his hold.

“Didn’t want those damn vultures or any other idiot to think that they ever had a chance with ya.” He mutters against your lips, kissing you and kissing you, your lipstick be damned. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling away only when you hear voices getting closer.

“Are you kidding me?!” Kirishima calls out, exasperated, garnering the looks from other heroes in the room. “I had to find out from the paps that you’re officially dating?”

Bakugou fixes him with a confused look, standing tall as he keeps you pressed against him. You laugh at Kiri’s antics though, the way he pulls at his hair, Bakugou’s other friends coming up to join the confusion party.

“Thought you knew we were together.” Bakugou grunts out with a roll of his eyes.

“I had a feeling, but you never told me personally! Bro, I’m feeling really betrayed right now. By you too!” Kirishima points an accusatory finger at you next, and you faux gasp with a hand to your chest.

“I figured he would tell you!” You say, nodding over to Bakugou who frowns at you both. When everyone looks to him for an explanation, his face burns, and he turns away from his friends with a huff.

“Gonna go find our damn seats.” He mutters, shrugging off the congratulatory pats he receives from everybody he passes. You all find the table you’re supposed to sitting at, chatting and waiting until the gala’s main portion begins.

As the night goes on, you find yourself more bored than you had anticipated. It felt like a mixture of a fashion show, a charity, and an award ceremony, a place for high status people to come together and mingle without the presence of fans needing their attention. You didn’t feel as though you belonged much, but you stayed near familiar faces, and found yourself enjoying their company.

“Is that makeup on your chest, to cover…?” Deku asks during one of the dull moments, leaning over beside you in his chair to whisper to you. You stiffen in your seat before you remember just how much he’s helped you, how he’s looked out for you since you were introduced to the idea of becoming a hero. So you nod, once, glancing down to your chest accentuated by the sparkly material of the dress.

“Yeah. The power of makeup is fuckin’ crazy.” You whisper back, to which Deku nods. He falls quiet before he leans in again.

“Are you thinking about getting it removed, perhaps? Or covered?” The question makes your head feel stuffy suddenly, body quickly becoming warm as you think about the severity, the weight of what he implies.

Do you want to always hide behind makeup? Or would you rather just erase a piece of yourself forever? Don’t you want to tear away your flesh from its bone, just so the space can be pure again? Don’t you want to be pure again? Don’t you want to kill the Red Medusa, leave her bloody and broken, just like those men had promised to do to you? Just like those men would have done to you if they were only a bit faster?

“Dynamight is our hero of the year with the most captures and saves this year!” The announcer says proudly on the mic, the bright light shining on them on the stage now moving over to Bakugou who sits beside you. The crowd cheers, the cameras flash, and you know you’re supposed to do something beside him but—but you feel numb. You’re thrown off by the question Deku dropped into your lap, the severity of your identity finally falling into place.

You’d never truly fit in their world. You’d never truly be a hero if you always kept a piece of your former self on you at all times. You could either stay the survivor that protected everyone who needed saving, or you become the hero that left everything that ever made you and rise from the ashes as someone new. You’re not sure if that sounds as appealing anymore.

The announcer gets on the mic once more to announce a brief intermission before they start serving some food and a few more annual statistics. Without a word, do you stand from your chair, squeezing Katsuki’s shoulder when he looks to you in confusion before heading off into the crowd. You can hear him angrily asking Deku a question, but you don’t stick around to hear it.

You weave your way through the crowd until you find yourself in an almost empty room, filled with statues and artwork alike. You forgot that this was held at a gallery, and it almost feels mocking when the first statue that you see is of the most famous, never forgotten hero.

“What am I to you?” You ask the statue quietly as you wrap your arms around yourself. The marble looks heavy, as does the world that All Might holds on his shoulders. He grins though, muscles and veins bulging, but the statue is sturdy, never buckles under any weight.

How could you be a hero with a past like yours? With a past that you’re still willing to fall back to if everything somehow comes crashing down? With a past that you’re forever tied to, and yet forced to pretend you’re ashamed of, forced to forget it all? How could you ever be a hero—ever believe that you could be a hero, when your heart only knows of the people you should be helping, rules be damned?

“You’re a traitor, for one.” A voice calls out from behind the statue. You wipe your eyes quickly, unaware of the tears that had gathered there, cursing when you realize that you messed up your makeup. You blink away your spotty vision, eyebrows screwing down when you’re faced with someone you haven’t seen in so long.

“The hell are you doing here?” You whisper, hurrying over to the vigilante that would sometimes stay with you and Vanity when she needed help. There were only a couple that would regularly stay, about four or five, and she was one of them. The last time you had seen her was a simple glimpse in the hallway the day you told Vanity that you were considering becoming a hero. She hadn’t said anything to you that day, but she was always quiet.

Her name was Mercy, and she never shared much about herself, besides the fact that she wanted to be apart of your cause and kick some misogynistic ass with you. You didn’t understand why she was here, especially if she knew you would be here under a new name.

“Did you sneak in here, or something? You could get caught.” You whisper-shout to her, grabbing onto her wrist to pull her away from the prying eyes that glance over at the two of you.

But she snatches away from you, makes you straighten your back in surprise, a sinking feeling settling deep into your gut. She doesn’t look happy to see you, and she always has a smile whenever you run into each other. Something’s not right—it wasn’t right that day she saw you in the warehouse, your appearances there getting slimmer and slimmer as the days go on, and its still not right now, either.

“Really?” She asks loud and dramatically, grin suddenly flipping onto her face like a switch, startles you. “I thought all of us vigilantes were now accepted in the hero world.” She shouts, arms spreading out around her form, and that for sure gathers everyones attention in the room. You freeze, your body suddenly feeling icy cold like you’ve been dipped into a half frozen lake. Your hands lock into fists at your sides, your chest trembling with every heavy breath as you try not to watch the heroes and paparazzi alike start to filter in the room.

“What are you doing, Mercy?” You whisper to her, eyes stuck on the almost manic look in her eye, but you can see something deeper, hiding in the depths that she never wanted to reveal to you all. She shrugs, walking around the statue, hands behind her back as she tilts her head to rest on her shoulders as the people watch on in confusion.

“Oh, nothing.” She singsongs, resting against the statue when she circles around to you again, only closer this time until she stands a few feet in front of you. “Just letting everyone know that their favorite new hero isn’t a hero at all. That she’s a fucking traitor who left all of us for fucking dead so that she can sit at the big boys’ table.”

Her smile falls with every word, her lips peeling back in a snarl, her jaws snapping, spit flying from her mouth. But you don’t move, body frozen in shock as everything unfolds in front of all the people who were finally starting to respect you, the people who were finally starting to learn who you were.

You can feel the tears pinpricking at your eyes in anger, in frustration, in hopelessness. If you physically stopped her, then that would only make everything worse, would make her words bring suspicion to the forefront. It would ruin Katsuki’s reputation and everyone around you who talked with you because they must’ve known, must’ve been hiding the secret that someone who doesn’t belong has been hiding amongst them all. But you can’t let her keep going—not only for your sake, but for the people you were starting to care about, too.

“Mercy, shut the fuck up.” You snap at her, voice low, gaze captured by Bakugou and his friends who suddenly run into the room. But they all still, confused on what’s going down, unknowingly entering the best part of the show for the night.

“Why shut up?” She asks, stepping closer to you until her shoes—dirty and torn and falling apart—touch yours—clean and new and sparkly, redeemed. “Don’t you want everyone to know who you are?” She smiles so wide that you can see the creases of her smile lines pinching, her eyes being swallowed by the apples of her cheeks. Her own tears start welling up as she pulls you into a hug, one that you don’t return, arms hanging limply at your sides.

“Oh, what is it—Firebird?” She whispers only for you to hear before she pulls back, holding you by the upper arms, shouting for all to hear, “Last time I checked, you were running rampant in the streets as the Red Medusa.”

The room instantly falls into murmurs, shocked gasps, and worried chatters. The camera lights are still flashing, people are starting to record, some heroes walk out in anger. You can see them turning to Bakugou with confused and hurt faces, questions being thrown at him and his friends alike for sitting and congregating with you. But you only have eyes for Mercy, whose tears now run steadily down her grinning cheeks, her arms thrown out as your fists ball up beside you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask her once more, bottom lip wobbling in anger, in hopelessness, in betrayal. “Who put you up to this?”

“Nobody.” She shrugs. “But I thought the people should know what kind of past you keep trying to hide. That you’re a fucking fake, and that you never cared about anyone but yourself. You’re only chasing dick hoping it’ll make you a different person, but it won’t, sweetheart.” Mercy laughs humorlessly at that, and the words make you cringe, make you entire body tremor in anger.

She knows how much you hate being called sweetheart due to past trauma, and yet here she is, poking the bear, picking and picking until you snap. But you don’t—stand there with your teeth clenched, heavy breaths making your entire body rattle, eyes pinpricking with tears. When she doesn’t get the response she wants, she steps to you closely, poking a finger in your chest.

“I’m just doing what you’re too fucking stupid and weak to do yourself!” She screams at you, her voice hoarse, the veins in her neck throbbing. You hadn’t seen it before, but she reaches back to pick up a glass of water that she had sat on the statue beforehand, throws the contents of it at you.

You gasp and shield you face, but most of it misses you and it instead lands below your neck. Before you can stop her, Mercy scratches you across the chest, digging up the makeup as she slides sharp nails across your skin. Not only to make you bleed, but enough to reveal the crimson hidden underneath.

The room falls silent as you stand there, pretty dress soaked and your vulnerabilities open like a gaping wound. Your stomach heaves at the realization, bile creeping up your throat as you finally take a look around the room. It feels like everything is spinning, as you take in the faces who look to your chest with disgust, with anger, with fury covering their faces. At the paps who smile and take picture after picture. At the statues who stare down their noses in disdain at you. At Katsuki who stands frozen in shock, mouth slightly hung open. At Mercy who smiles wobbly at you as she holds her arms open for another hug, looking for it to be receptive this time.

Without thinking, you reel your arm back and punch her square in the nose. She doesn’t expect it for some reason, and stumbles back into the statue, making it wobble in place. The room goes into an uproar at that, and when everyone dives in to save it from falling over, do you make your grand escape.

“You can’t keep running from the truth, Medusa! Your past will never let you! I’ll never let you!” Mercy’s voice is the only one you can pick out from the chaos, and it echoes as you run through the corridors of the museum.

You can hear Bakugou calling your name, but you ignore him, running and running until you finally meet the cold outside air. The interviewers and paparazzi are still out there, and they look to you in confusion before they focus on your chest. The frenzy starts again, everyone gasping when Bakugou comes busting out through the doors.

But you take off again, the tears burning your eyes as everything sets in. Your legs carry you quicker and quicker as you lose Bakugou in the streets who keeps calling after you, twisting and turning, until you find the path to make it back to the warehouse—to home.

This was never meant for you. You don’t know why you even tried to become something that you were never meant to be in the first place. You should’ve stayed hidden in the shadows, where you belong. Nobody like you should ever think that they’re more than their past, that they can change and control their own future. It’s all just bullshit. Always has been, and it always will be.

chapter thirteen

please do not repost or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky @iamaconfusedpan @blueshome

#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#crybaby.bkg.scorned

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chosos-mascara · 1 year

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focus

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - after your daughter asks to have a play-date with yuuta, satoru wants to show you he's trustworthy.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - public fingering (no one sees though), names (good girl, pretty), dubcon, alcohol, gojo is described as taller than reader

minors + ageless dni 1k words, unedited

Tapping a foot and placing one arm over the other, you waited impatiently for your daughter to appear from the crowd. It had been Anya's second week within her new school following your rushed move away from your ex; an anxious few weeks finally settling down as she seemed to fit in well.

"Mama!" A minute had passed before you'd heard her enthusiastic shout, eyes landing on the head of hair that had resembled your own. Though, instead of the usual wide-armed run to your embrace, your daughter had instead walked calmly beside another student - a black haired boy looking to be her age. Each of them seemed to be engrossed in conversation, the slow waltz stopping as Anya gestured with her hands, furthering the storytelling she'd been so eager to do. It had been evident the pair wouldn't reach you quickly, so taking matters into your own hands, you walked toward them to retrieve Anya and be on your way. Though, it had appeared another parent had the same idea as when you had grown closer, you'd bumped into a much larger adult.

His look of surprise had been hidden by black shades, only allowing a short, near inaudible gasp to leave his chest before composing himself. The white hair upon his head floated in a light breeze, pink lips curving upward as he stuck his palm before yours. "Satoru." His voice was soft, though riddled in a playful tone. Even with the black lenses blocking you from maintaining eye contact, you knew his gaze matched his mannerisms. You pictured the orbs beneath glossing you over before landing on your own as his long fingers wrapping firmly around your hand as you'd repeated your own name back.

"Mama, this is Yuuta!" Anya pulled your attention from the male, reminding you where you'd been - picking your daughter up from school. This hadn't been the time to attract men, or accept doting conversation from strangers. Smiling, you offered the boy a small wave as Anya had continued. "Is that your dada?" Her stubby finger pointed toward Satoru as the boy nodded. "Mama, can I go bowling with Yuuta, his daddy and his uncle Nanamin?" She questioned with wide eyes, a smile on her face. "Well-" "Ah, that would be perfect, wouldn't it Yuuta? Megumi is busy this weekend, after-all..." Satoru glanced at you, grin allowing white teeth to shine through. "I don't really know you, I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable-" Your protest had been interrupted by a click of fingers, brow furrowing as Satoru interrupted your words with his own. "The two of us can go out Friday, then! Then you'll know I'm an amazing father, and trust me with Anya this weekend."

Even with stuttered breaths wasted on excuses, Satoru had managed to retrieve your number, and plans had been made. Finding a babysitter had been a struggle, though you'd managed, realising this had been one of the first 'dates' since leaving your daughter's father. Still, regret had pooled in your stomach as your nervous frame trembled under the flirtatious gaze fixed over you for the entirety of the evening, drink after drink until you'd loosened up a little. Topics of conversation had revolved around your children, though with alcohol shared between you, it had soon changed to personal lives. Yuuta's mother had abandoned them when he had been newborn, and Satoru had been left a single father, ll while supporting his friend's son, Megumi. It had sounded difficult, yet Satoru didn't complain, instead choosing to speak only of highlights.

Somewhere between words fading into one and music growing louder, Satoru's hands found their way into your lap, your lips onto his. The bar had been crowded, and although you were sure most passer-bys wouldn't notice his intrusion into your skirt, or fingertips grazing the cotton of your underwear, you displayed your hesitance through the slowing of kisses, pulling back. "No one will notice." His whispers tickled the skin of your neck as his lips trailed downward, the prodding of his middle finger suddenly slipping into you as you inhaled sharply. Eyes squeezing shut, you focused on regulating your breathing. "S-satoru, please-" Interrupted by a second finger and a lewd moan escaping parted lips, the protests died on your tongue.

He drew his fingers back before thrusting them into you once more, beginning to pick up a languid pace as his mouth ascended your neck, sloppy over your jaw before back on your lips once more. Satoru's tongue swiped across your bottom lip before you opened slightly wider. At first, he tested the waters, a small flick against your own before pushing a little deeper, a gliding mess as his tongue caressed yours. A moan had been muffled to his lips when he'd moved the sodden fingers from your hole to instead circle your clit, hips bucking upward to his touch.

The table had covered you from below the waist, though with the make-out session happening within the booth, parting had seemed appropriate for you - but with Satoru's whispers on your ear and fingers circling your heat, it grew obvious this had been a power move to him rather than concern for being caught. "Such a good girl." His coo made your cheeks burn red with embarrassment, eyes scanning the crowd to check no one had caught onto what had been happening. "Focus on me, pretty." He nipped over a vein in your neck, a dizzying sensation flashing over you at the action as he let out another chuckle. Hips rolling upward as your eyes lost focus, you knew it wouldn't be long before you'd tip over the edge, wetness growing against his touch. Satoru's free hand drifted along your side and groped at your chest, a rough fondle of your tits before you'd warned him of your closeness.

As expected, you'd been met with a snide chortle, followed by his instructions. "Cum, then." It hadn't been difficult to let go with the seemingly expertise movements he'd worked against you, pressure and pace making your body feel weak. Your head had nestled into his neck, moans muffled by his shoulder as you felt yourself shake with pleasure, his circles over you halting when you'd slumped back against the booth's seat. Still, no one had looked toward you, music blaring loudly and bodies dancing.

#satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojou smut #gojo x reader smut #satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru jjk x reader #satoru jjk smut #satoru gojo one shot #gojo imagine

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heathersdesk · 1 month

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Holy Week: The Anointing

Mary of Bethany, who came to anoint Christ for his burial in Matthew 26, performed an act of faith and devotion that even his chosen Twelve were unable to perform for him.

She understood that Jesus of Nazareth was the Messiah, the Son of God. She also knew, and had the courage to confront, that Jesus was going to die. She wasn't in denial of this fact. She didn't attempt to change this reality through violence or vengeance. She accepted it and came to perform the anointing for his body.

What she knew to be true, Jesus was still fighting with the Twelve to get them to understand and accept. They resisted the truth they didn't want to hear. As a result, they were unprepared to help him in the coming days the way he needed them to.

What we can gather about the struggle here is one we still see in the Church today: women will have access to divine truths that men will not have the faith to discern. And when the source of that truth is a woman, they will not believe it because women are not reliable sources of truth to them. Even when Jesus corrected them for criticizing her, saying the ointment she brought to him wasn't wasteful because it was for his burial, they were still in denial that he was actually going to die.

The Church has done a great deal of work to bring women, their voices and perspectives, into the administrative circles of the Church. There has been over a decade of training on the importance of councils with women on them, delegating assignments to women, making women and their contributions more visible. The mileage may vary, but a significant portion of church membership knows this is how things are supposed to work, even if they are poor at implementing it into practice.

What I still see, however, is that men in leadership still struggle to accept women as sources of truth they themselves do not possess. There is an attitude still that women are only trustworthy as long as they're repeating back to men the things they already believe. When it comes to the kind of revelation that serves God in innovative or difficult ways, in their minds, those answers shouldn't be coming to women first.

Jesus Christ trusted women. He found willing, capable disciples among them. They exceeded the faith of his chosen Twelve many times, and Jesus used their faith as examples to these men to challenge their entrenched gender bias. Jesus Christ didn't subscribe to the rigid gender binary that men subscribed to in that day, and it's a struggle he is still having with men to this day.

Jesus was the perfect teacher and advocate for women. He did not tolerate the disrespect that so often defined being a woman then. He doesn't tolerate it now. And as we contemplate the spirit of Easter, celebrating the liberation of the captive, this is the liberation I still find myself praying for.

The hope I have for the future of the Church is the one where we finally achieve the equality Jesus spent his entire life teaching about. Where the preferences and ignorance of men in leadership is no longer a stumbling block to me on my pathway home to my Heavenly Parents.

I've never prayed about this where the answer has ever changed.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Answer: Never stop telling the truth. Never stop reaching for what Jesus taught is my right to receive. Reach out and take what is mine, regardless of how men try to obstruct me. And most importantly, make sure I keep the way open for others who come after me. I'm not the only one hurt by the gender binary. I'm not free until we're all free. And like Jesus, I will stick with it for as long as it takes, even if it takes another two thousand years.

#mormon #lds #mormonism #tumblrstake #the church of jesus christ of latter day saints #religion #faith #queerstake #christianity #scripture study #new testament #bible study #holy week #easter

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tomorrowxtogether · 1 year

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You Can Count on TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s Hueningkai

TXT's youngest opens up about relying on his bandmates, growing onstage, and more

Hueningkai’s advice to people looking to enjoy this time of year, when the world feels like it’s in full bloom, would be to stop and smell the roses — almost literally.

“You know, recently, the cherry blossoms started to fall as it’s gotten warmer,” Hueningkai tells Consequence, seated for a one-on-one interview in a hotel room in Osaka, Japan. “Walk along the street and watch the cherry blossoms flutter down and enjoy the view. It makes me feel sentimental and inspired.”

At 20 years old, Hueningkai is the youngest member of TOMORROW X TOGETHER — such tender thoughts about the beauty of nature aren’t always top of mind for people his age. Hueningkai, though, is not your average 20-year-old; he’s part of a group headlining Lollapalooza whose most recent project hit No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart.

Speaking about achieving headliner status, he recalls being particularly excited to share the news with his immediate family, including his two sisters. “I’m so happy that I became a proud son for my family,” he says.

While he grew up a middle child, debuting in 2019 with TXT required a shift; suddenly, Hueningkai found himself the maknae, or the youngest in a group. “The other members are only children or the youngest in their family,” Hueningkai explains. “I couldn’t get used to it at first, but gradually it became more comfortable — and it was really nice that I could lean on and rely on the older members.”

Hueningkai spent almost three years as a trainee before the lineup for TXT was finalized. Being introduced to global audiences and setting off on a debut showcase at just 16 years old required the vocalist to mature faster than the average teenager. Present-day Hueningkai is thoughtful and professional, but also seems to have retained a youthful, curious approach to the world. Throughout our interview, he approaches each question intentionally and often replies with surprising levels of honesty.

Consider when he’s asked about the people outside the safety of the TXT membership with whom he feels most comfortable discussing struggles or more difficult periods of his life. “I barely have any,” he says simply. “If I talk to my family, I would only worry them; and if I talk to my friends, they wouldn’t relate to that stuff. So in the end, I only talk to the members.”

It’s true that Hueningkai’s profile has risen higher than many of his peers can relate to. Following 2022’s “ACT: LOVE SICK” tour, he’s noticed an uptick in the group’s public reception. “I don’t really go out much, but these days, when I do, I’ve been surprised that so many people have actually recognized me,” he explains. His eyebrows shoot up, disappearing under his hairline as he expresses his surprise. “Oh, we have gotten a little more famous!”

TXT are back on the road spending more in-person time with their fanbase, MOA, on their current “ACT: SWEET MIRAGE” trek (find tickets here). It’s an even grander adventure for the quintet, and Hueningkai feels he’s progressed a performer between the two tours. “I think I learned how to be more calm and move at a steady pace, and I think I gained more experience when it comes to being on stage,” he observes. “I think I know how to rise to the occasion a little more now.”

As someone who’s already experienced more at age 20 than many people will experience in a lifetime, Hueningkai has an impressive amount of clarity when it comes to his priorities. “I want to be a trustworthy person; someone that people can really rely on,” he says. “I want to be a person that people can feel comfortable being around.”

While it’s clear how dear his members are to him, the other piece of the TXT puzzle is undeniably MOA. Hueningkai describes the relationship between the group and their fans as almost cyclical: They energize and inspire each other. The fans provide the enthusiasm needed for the five young men to perform for nearly three hours, and, in return, TXT leave everything they have on the stage, for every audience on the tour.

And for Hueningkai, in the midst of a truly exciting life, it’s those moments that take on the most enchanted, almost supernatural, quality: “Magical things happen meeting MOA in person.”

#txt #tomorrow x together #230519 #consequence #article #hueningkai #huening kai

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cyeli-no · 1 year

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Idea: What Scares Cyno [Cyno & Kaveh]

Summary: Kaveh wants Cyno to openly be scared because that means he can finally rely on someone else and not over-exert himself. The first time Cyno shows his fear, it is with Kaveh and Kaveh is way out of his depth. He can't help Cyno as he watches his friend get dragged back to the Temple of Silence to be experimented on. It takes a month to find him, but he returns back a shell of his former self. He dissociates constantly, protecting himself from sudden noises or movement. He functions in fear, and Kaveh has to watch as his wish is granted in the worst possible way. As Cyno starts the path to healing (which is difficult and ugly and slow and it is incredibly frustrating and tiring), Kaveh struggles with his own guilt. His survivors guilt morphs to be an overwhelming feeling as if he is the cause for Cyno's suffering and he knows Cyno will never return to the person he was before.

The idea of Cyno getting captured for a friend is similar to my Cyno and Al-Haitham post, but their different reactions make me feel justified.

Relationships: Cyno & Kaveh (romantic/platonic), all Cyno friendships (background)

Trigger Warning: Human experimentation (non-explicit), drugging (non-explicit), torture (non-explicit)

─── ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Kaveh has never seen Cyno scared before, but he understands Cyno is not above feeling it at all. He knows Cyno's happiness and excitement more than he knows his anger and resentment. For all the rumors that curse the General Mahamatra as a monster, Kaveh found a friend who feels with his whole heart without expressing it.

He knows Cyno does not show his terror, is more used to be the cause of it, but he tries. He wishes that one day, he will feel safe enough amongst friends to tell them, "This scares me." It is a stupid thing to hope for, maybe even as cruel as Al-Haitham claims it to be, but Kaveh doesn't care.

Cyno is never afraid because being afraid is useless. He has a responsibility that he alone carries the weight of. If he afraid, no one will finish the job and he cannot afford that. Kaveh knows, so he prays for Cyno to have allies he call fall back on. Trustworthy people that he can turn to if he cannot finish a job. But, he understands thar Cyno would never turn his back on his duty that easily. He doesn't just pass his work to others, no matter what.

It was stupid, a drunken mistake. He lives with the displeased and annoyed judgement from Tighnari and knows he has no one to blame. It was always a passive thought, he never meant to tell Cyno about it. (He feels guilty enough without Al-Haitham reminding him, "You told our General that you were worried about his emotional stability." "I worded it badly!")

It isn't until a few weeks after apologizing and explaining what he actually meant (It was a long conversation and Cyno mostly sat and listened, like he always does. It makes his heart ache, how easily Cyno understood Kaveh's explanation. He was a mess and his sentences were barely coherent, and Cyno still accepted it without malice.) that Kaveh regrets ever hoping for Cyno's fear.

He hadn't realized how terrifying it would be to be with him as he stops fighting. They are both in a dangerous position, Cyno's blood already soaking into the sand and Kaveh entire body being flattened against the floor. The cloaked men speak in a language he doesn't understand, but Cyno clearly does. He reacts right away, body tensing at each word and face draining of color. He watches as Cyno faces him, uncertainty straining his expression for the first time, and his heart drops. He wanted to be Cyno's support, but is left helpless when he searches for it. His panic must've been clear on his face because Cyno's body steels itself again and he walks towards the source of his terror without hesitation.

A trade-off; Cyno returns to the source of his nightmares and a hell for childhood for Kaveh's freedom and life. No matter how much Kaveh screams, he can't stop it. He will never be able to forget the expression on his friend's face, will never shake the burden of guilt for being the reason another loved one will die, and will never forgive himself for being so weak that Cyno felt the need to comfort him moments before being dragged away. "I am stronger than I was before," he promised, "I will survive." (Words have always been important to Cyno, never the type to lie. So, it doesn't slip past Kaveh that Cyno will survive because he knows he will not be fine.)

When he is found, he has lost the tears and cries for a man lost in the desert. He is alive, but at what cost? He is brought back to be taken care of, but he demands they begin the search first. He is lightheaded, can barely walk, but he promises to answer every question as long as they find Cyno. Kaveh really can't be blamed for how he blabbers on their way back to the Akademiya, telling the disgruntled Al-Haitham about it all in vivid detail. He talks about Cyno's fear, the haunting memory of the General Mahamatra stumbling to stand and his eyes glossing over as the cloaked men drew closer. He whispers his own fears, fears that Cyno may be gone forever, and he pleads for Al-Haitham to go after him.

The issue is that they have no leads. Cyno's childhood is a mystery, even Cyrus does not know the full details despite raising him. Without information, all they have are allies.

From Kaveh's POV, he is just feeling overwhelming survivor's guilt and all of Cyno's friends trying their best and failing to find Cyno just makes it worse.

Dehya is the first to join the search. Her anger is relentless, sometimes casting Kaveh a furious look when she thinks he doesn't notice. He understands, he is not friends with her and the person who is remains trapped in a place they can't reach. Sometimes, it is at the General for being a fool who didn't bring anyone reliable with him into the desert. ("Someone who knows the desert, someone who would have his back!" Kaveh doesn't mean to hear that, but he does.) Candace offers as many supplies as she can to anyone who passed through her village in pursuit of Cyno. It is usually Dehya, sometimes it is Al-Haitham or Kaveh himself. She offers comfort, but it feels out of place when Kaveh can see her worry in the way her shoulders sag at news of failure. She doesn't blame Kaveh, even tried to talk him out of feeling it for himself, and he feels the familiar guilt building. She offers him comfort and he can't provide her any. ("All that matters is his safe return." She tells them during their first visit, the tired plea, "Al-Haitham, bring him back.") Tighnari can't traverse the desert well, but he will go whenever the weather permits. He would've aided in the search, but Al-Haitham denied him right away. "You have a child under your care, and we do not have time to waste to find you if you realize the sun is too bright." It is cruel and an argument does break because of it. Kaveh doesn't dare interject, just listening to the two snap back about the best course of action to save their mutual friend. Another fight breaks after a few weeks, Tighnari swearing he will go look for Cyno regardless of what he says. ("You've made no progress!" He doesn't mean for it to hurt, and maybe that's why it does even more, "Honestly, you wouldn't be able to catch me if you tried!") Collei is strictly not involved in the search. So, instead, she makes food for people who drop by to talk to Tighnari about Cyno. She sends them off with supplies and food, enough to last until Aaru Village and more rations in case. She sends letters to Candace for updates, but neither can afford to exchange too much information in case someone intercepts them. Still, it helps put her at ease to have someone she can always talk to while Tighnari is gone. (Sometimes, when everyone is busy in their hunt, she makes tahchin. She leaves it on the table and tells Kaveh, "If he comes home, he'll probably be very hungry.") It takes three weeks before finding the lead that will take them straight to Cyno. Nilou is out of her element the entire time because there is nothing she can do to help. That is until she hears some people at one of her dances. Some adventurers returned from the desert with whispers of a man who appears similar to the General. Apparently, he was seen walking into some temple ruins deep into the desert, somewhere Tighnari and Dehya searched a few weeks prior. She instantly sends word out to Nahida and Al-Haitham, which is how Kaveh finds out. (He is the first to see her, to talk to her, as she smiles, "At least, now, we have something.") Nahida is fast to demand action, to call Dehya back and to send her and Kaveh to the temple. Tighnari and Al-Haitham are to visit some of the nearby ruins to see if there is any lingering information there. Nilou insists on going with Dehya in case they miss anything. As Kaveh follows them into the temple, the feeling of uselessness drains his energy. The duo are already friends and have worked well together before. Him? He is barely on good terms with Nilou and Dehya seems to still have lingering tensions.

From Cyno's POV, he suffers the entire time. They are doing tests on him, trying to separate Hermanubis from his body and move it to a different vessel, one who did not turn their back on the desert and its pantheon. The people from the Temple of Silence realize that without his vision, he is much more compliant. Hermanubis wants to protect Cyno, but his body is too weak to properly house it. Not wanting to kill him, the priests do give him days of reprieve to heal. Around the third week, when Cyno's body has enough energy to be possessed, Hermanubis tries to escape. They manage to get out (which is when the adventurers saw him), but it overestimated its vessel. He is dragged back, trapped for four more days before he is rescued.

Al-Haitham manages to retrieve his vision easily and they all end up escorting Cyno back. It is supposed to be a happy ending, Kaveh believes. He thinks, the entire ride back, that at least Cyno is home. He is home and he is safe and everything will be better—

He watches Cyno fall apart. They try to connect him to an IV because he is severely malnourished and dehydrated, and Hermanubis instantly takes over. Nahida needs to drag him into a dream-filled slumber before they are able to start to take care of him.

Even when he wakes up, he seems to be in comatose. He doesn't respond to anyone, barely even looks up from where his arm is connected to machines. When Collei sees him, her entire body stiffens and she has to rush out of the room. The intense pain of being sealed away aches more. (Tighnari suspects it's because of something the Temple of Silence did, but Collei doesn't care. It feels as if all the progress she made was useless because some people could not afford to leave Cyno alone. She cries bitter and angry tears, ones that Dehya sits her through because no one else seems to understand them as much. Kaveh catches the sight on accident, but it won't leave his mind.) The worst part is how Cyno doesn't even react. He watches her run out as if it is a stranger.

Whenever the doctors try to work on him, it is as if his mind leaves his body completely. His eyes turn glassy, seeing something no one else does, and he remains stiff the entire time. He relaxes when told, stiffens when they draw closer, and it is a horrendous cycle of forcing his body to ease up in a way that clearly makes him uncomfortable. His friends try to offer support, but none of them are really able to get through to him. No one except for Kaveh.

The anesthesia is doing its job, pulling Cyno back into darkness, and the General can barely hold back a shudder. His eyes narrow, struggling to focus on the blonde. His voice is hoarse and his throat burns from disuse. It takes less than a second for the man to fly to his bedside.

He doesn't even need to ask before Cyno admits it all, loose lipped. There is shame that crawls up his veins as he trembles from something that is supposed to be bringing him comfort. It is cruel for them to ask when he is so vulnerable, when he is closer to asleep. ("It's necessary to ensure he is taken care of." Al-Haitham says, but Kaveh doesn't know how Cyno will react if he finds out they betrayed him in such a way. Would Cyno even consider it a betrayal?)

So they get some details about it all. Mostly, it comes in the form of how Cyno could not control his body at all. He was drugged to the point where he could see them cutting through him without feeling it. He watched them every movement and his body refused to obey his commands. ("I should've been able to escape." He goes silent after, insistent of that one fact.) And, the more he talks, the more Kaveh sees shadows of the fear-filled expression from all those weeks ago.

He can see it so clearly in the way Cyno bites his tongue now, how he instinctively moves further away from doctors and always inches towards the door. He sees how Cyno's body will freeze at anyone's touch and his mind and body shuts down quickly, always trying to protect itself from everyone. He watches his friend cower away and all he can remember is all those months ago, when he told Cyno he hoped for this.

(Not like this, he tries to convince himself, I didn't mean it like this. I wanted Cyno to feel safe enough with us to not force himself to be strong. I didn't want this—)

It's cruel how Celestia ended up granting his wish and how it won't answer Kaveh's new plea.

#cyno #cyno angst #kaveh #cyno and kaveh #kavehno #general maha-martyr #fic idea

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francesminos-tt · 8 months

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joffron in an abusive relationship 👀 They even try to break up but they can't stay away from each other

Everyone agreed that Daeron Targaryen was the gentlest of his brothers, polite and chivalrous, always smiling and willing to help. As the youngest son of the Targaryen business empire, Daeron had been selected as the most eligible husband material by Westeros Men’s Magazine three years in a row. He wasn’t as chaotic as his brother Aegon, or as ruthless as Aemond. He was more capable in the business world than his sister Helaena. It was fair to say that when the tabloid accused him of domestic violence, the whole realm was on his side.

Everyone agreed that Joffrey Velaryon was the most passionate of his siblings, wild and carefree, but honest. He had exposed the mistreatment of immigrant workers in corporations, and helped the issue of new laws and regulations to promote equality and fair pay. He was a trustworthy social advocate who was known to give honest speeches. When he was accused of cheating, the internet was on his side from the beginning.

Joffrey was in a dark hotel room and half-drunk when he made the call. He was too drunk to find his highly secured private phone, so he just dialed the number in his work phone without a second thought. The call was connected after exactly three rings.

“How long has it been?” Daeron’s voice came without even a properly greeting, as if he had expected Joffrey’s call.

“18 days 10 hours and 7 minutes. Oh, 8 minutes now.” Joffrey replied, sinking deeper into the comfortable couch, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“I told you,” Daeron chuckled softly, “you are not capable of staying away from me. Just stop struggling, Joff. It will be easier for both of us.”

Joffrey sighed heavily and rubbed his wrist. The ligature marks on his wrists had completely faded, only small dots of red on the back of his hand indicating the blood flow to his fingers had once been cut for a long time. Joffrey ran a finger down the inside of his wrist, feeling the quickening of his pulse under the thin skin.

“A stranger hit on me yesterday at the bar.” Joffrey said abruptly, “He grabbed my ass and licked my neck. I told him to fuck off.”

“What is your purpose of telling me this? Are you expecting me to hop on a plane and fly to Pentos to praise you?” Daeron said after a pause, though he tried to keep his voice calm, Joffrey still noticed the dark turn in his tone.

“You told me that you would not tolerate a lair.” Joffrey pressed on, “But I cannot stop lying. I lied to you seconds ago. I didn’t tell the guy to fuck off. I let him into my hotel room and sucked his dick in the shower. I let him fuck me raw.”

If Daeron’s anger was hardly noticeable earlier, now it was palpable.

“You want me, as much as I want you. If you don’t care about me,” Joffrey let out a long, breathy sigh, “how do you know I am in Pentos?”

“…Stay there. Don’t even move your butt. If I find even one single drop of the motherfucker’s seeds leaking out of your hole before I arrive, you won’t have my cock for another month.”

Joffrey shivered at Daeron’s warning. He anticipated it. The perverted part of him was satisfied by Daeron’s harsh words. He gave up. He couldn’t get better anyhow, might as well embrace what he truly was. A liar and a pervert.

————————————————————————

Daeron and Joffrey’s relationship was a headache for their extended family. Everyone was shocked and confused that why a polite gentleman like Daeron would become an abusive sadist and why honest Joff couldn’t stop lying and cheating. It just didn’t make sense. They brought out the worst part of each other, turning each other from functional and respectful individuals to chaotic abusers.

Daeron is more fucked up than I am, and I am completely sober when I say this. Aegon once said to Helaena in a Seven church.

I should have given Joff more attention when I and Harwin decided to stay apart. Poor boy. He’s so confused. Rhaenyra regrettably admitted her negligence of Joffrey to Laena, who comforted her that it was not her fault.

The PR team of Targaryen Inc. worked hard to maintain the couple’s public image. It was already bad that the public called the Targs the incest family, and it didn’t help when Rhaenyra married her uncle Daemon and golden boy Lucerys was seen kissing his uncle Aemond in a party. When Joffrey showed up at a fundraiser party hand in hand with Daeron, the PR head almost had a heart attack. Fortunately, the public accepted this uncle-nephew relationship without much fuss, thanks to Daeron and Joffrey’s good images. However, the internet soon found out some disturbing evidence indicating that this relationship was not as wholesome as it seemed.

Joffrey had ligature marks on his wrists, some people even claimed that they saw some cigarette burns on his neck. The suspicion of domestic abuse rose immediately. Just when people accused Daeron of DV, Joffrey was seen making out with a stranger in a nightclub, changing the tides of the internet criticism.

They attempted to stay apart, to end things, as the PR team begged them, but all the efforts were for naught. They would always get back together before the moon turned. Joffrey would always claw back to Daeron, begging for forgiveness and a good punishment, while Daeron would always forgive Joffrey for being unfaithful. They were like two magnets, drawing each other near and dragging each other into the deep abyss.

This time was no different.

Joffrey screamed in euphoria when Daeron wrapped two large hands around his neck, pressing on his artery and suffocating him. Soon Joffrey was reduced to a moaning mess, his face stained with tears and drools, his hands tied to the bed post and his hole penetrated by a pulsing cock.

“I missed you, Joff.” Daeron whispered in Joffrey’s ear.

“I missed you too.” Joffrey murmured back.

#house of the dragon #hotd #joffron #joffrey velaryon #my asks #daeron x joffrey #daeron the daring

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angelgoeslewd · 2 years

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Can you do Wren with a quiet PC who snaps violently at someone for being too annoying? Thank you so much

so i wasn't sure if i had Wren's character down correctly so i LITERALLY went n replayed DoL for this, which is what took forever lmfao BUT I FINALLY FINISHED YESSSS

pls accept this moodboard i made as an apology

idfk what style i wanted for him so i went with farmhand who doubles as a secret agent smuggler

🔮 summary: wren tries to figure out what exactly it is that you want.

⚠️ warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, AFAB! reader, slight violence, drinking

Wren doesn't really know what to make of you, at first. Nor do you give him anything to help him figure out the cute little puzzle that's been dropped into his lap, most literally.

All he knows is that his boss was up and swearing about some new farmer that was a pain in his ass one morning, ruining his plans to take that farm boy's land, and he decided to take matters into his own hands and maybe he pay a little visit in order to sort things out, if you catch his drift.

So he put out his cigarette, slapped on his boots and hat, and took off with that new, sleek, black Appaloosa that had spots in the shape of a dog on its hind his boss had... acquired in his last bet on that horse race.

See, Wren likes dogs. They're cute. Obedient. Loyal. Guess that says something about him, huh? But more importantly, he likes training his dogs. It's fun to see all that hard work he put into forming a perfect response pay off, when they do something that seems so natural and so ingrained in them that they weren't doing two months ago.

So when Wren sees you, sweating in the midmorning sun, carrying around the buckets of slop for the pigs, yet still managing to look so put together (and dare he say... cute?) with all the flies buzzing around your head, he instantly sees the potential. You're gonna be his next project.

And while Remy is a perfectly good boss, one to keep happy, Wren has got to look out for his own interests.

So he heads back home, deciding that eventually, you'll probably make your way over here and fall right into his hand- Most. Literally.

The afternoon sun is just setting over the moor when you ride up. The smuggler licks his lips as he watches you from his steel patio table, whiskey and cigarette smoke from his buddies clouding his vision. He peers over his hand of cards, impressed with how well you can handle that Arabian.

They tend to run hot, much like Wren is feeling right now. They need a firm hand and an even firmer mind. There's gotta be something in the press of your stirrups and the pull of your reins in order to get 'em to listen to you, and honestly, Wren didn't expect that from that cute lil orphan he saw struggling to feed the pigs. Color him intrigued. Wondering what those soft, uncallused hands would feel like around his cock, he follows you with his eyes as you dismount, tie up your horse, and walk into the den of the snake he calls Boss.

You come out about half an hour later. Wren keeps pretty good tabs on his environment due to his line of work and if he has a special interest that makes him watch you a little closer than usual, well... who's gonna call him out on that?

That furrowed brow you're wearing probably means Remy didn't get to you, which, kinda excites him. You'll be sticking around for a little longer then? Great.

"Hey, you," He calls out. Tapping his cigarette in the ashtray, he looks back up to find you looking around, then pointing at yourself questioningly. "Yeah, you. Get over here."

You don't immediately listen to him, instead standing there, weighing your options. It pisses him off a little. We'll have to work on that. Won't we?

But you apparently decide he looks trustworthy enough, as trustworthy as anyone hanging around Remy can be, and make your way over to the table of men. They don't spare any glances towards you, instead deciding to direct them to Wren himself. He ignores them and shifts in his seat to face you.

"You look a little stressed," he comments, using this excuse to look you up and down. And what a sight you are. Did Alex give you those boots, or did you buy them yourself? He doubts you have another in your life, seeing as how frequently he sees you making your way up the farm road. They look good on you. They'd look even better off. "Wanna join us for a couple of games?"

The man next to Wren snickers, but it's cut off with a jab to the stomach under the table.

"...?"

"Oh ho ho, quiet one, hm? You know what they say about the quiet ones, don't you, Wren?" The man across from him is being extraordinarily obnoxious tonight. Wren shoots him a warning look, a raised eyebrow that dares him to continue. He. apparently, doesn't value his life and does so, "They say they're-"

He's cut off as quickly as he starts.

Wren doesn't even know what happened for a second. One minute, the man was there, sitting across from him with a cocky smirk, then, he's on the floor, holding his now bleeding nose and a boot next to his face. A boot?

Wren looks back to you at this point and when he does, he practically sees hearts.

You're on one leg. A striped sock on your left foot raised slightly into the air. Arm pitched forward as you haven't had time to retract it after throwing your boot.

"Does it say that if they're wearing steel-toed boots that you should shut the fuck up?" you murmur as you slowly right yourself, careful not to lose your balance, and this time, Wren is able to hear you as everyone else at the table is dead silent. "'Cause if not, I think they got the saying wrong."

Wren is the first to do anything, and when he does, he laughs. He laughs like he hasn't in a while. He doubles over, holding his stomach, much to the shock of his goons, who startle at the noise. No one else says anything in the meantime, just stealing glances at each other quietly.

Fearshockconfusion-

"My, my, you... you're a feisty one, huh?" He says, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Boss!" Exclaims the man that you've basically called a piece of shit, indignantly. Deservingly.

"Shut it. Or else you'll find them taking your spot on this team." Wren hopes he can keep the want out of his eyes when he turns back to you, hopes it doesn't scare you off when he hands you a cigarette (but he supposes if it does, then you're not the one he's been looking for-) and asks you for a game.

You stare at his hand, then back at the man on the floor, and nod. You can handle yourself here.

You end up with both your boots off by the end. And your shirt. While you down another shot of whiskey.

Surprisingly enough to him though, Wren has also lost some clothes, his hat, the red bandana he wears around his neck, and one of his boots. Though he hasn't lost that predatory smirk he keeps shooting you from across the table.

You've moved inside from the last few games, Wren's goons gather around the cottage to watch the game from the sidelines, while you silently bet and raise and fold. But Wren's playing this game for something much more valuable than you realize.

He deals another round.

He loses.

"Well then, that's another boot for me, huh?" He goes to pull it off, but you put your hand up, shaking your head.

"I want something else," You say, and Wren is intrigued. His brow raises, his smirk gets a little longer, he can feel his face warp into an expression a wolf gives the rabbit who asks to play hide and seek, but he can't help it. He's enjoying your hunger for gambling immensely, even more since you can keep up with him.

"Oh? And what would that be, little one?"

"I want you to smash a window in Remy's mansion," You spit out. There's venom in your voice; apparently, that little 'meeting' didn't go too well, huh?

The room is immediately quiets, despite how low you've said it, heads turning towards you in disbelief that you've literally just said that while sitting in the cottage of Remy's second-hand man, practically rubbing elbows with him. They then turn to Wren, watching his amused smile drip off his face like butter in the hot sun.

"Boss," one of them pushes off the wall. "Do want us to throw them out-" He's cut off with a hand from Wren, slowly retreating back to his place.

Wren drops his hand, looking down at the cards laying on the table for a second before he sighs and sits back in his chair, raising his eyes to meet yours, holding the gaze. "Do you know what you're asking of me? Do you know how much Remy pays? How much it would cost for you-"

"I'm not going to pay."

"Excuse me—”

"Not in cash."

A laugh. "And what could you have that I possibly want? That would be enough to potentially cost me my meal ticket, my men's pay, all this niceness right here?"

You bit your lip. Slowly, you rise from your seat and hook your fingers in the waistband of your bottoms.

"Me."

Wren's eyebrows shoot up. He is suddenly very, very hungry.

You drop your bottoms.

He licks his lips.

You're everywhere.

Wren's obsessed with it.

Your mouth on his fingers, drooling all over them, on his thighs, grinding yourself against them, in his lap as Wren thrusts up into you, grabbing onto the table in front of you to try and keep him from bucking you into the air like a stallion. Moans pour from your lips as his other hand, rough, callused, dirty with dirt and sweat and god knows what else, snakes around to your front and nudge open your knees, skin catching skin as he runs his hands up your thighs to your slit, finding your clit between your folds.

He still doesn't know what to make of you, more do than talk, how you got him to the point of needing to watch his cock in and out of you, how you were able to play him as well as you play blackjack... it's like you were crafted for him, made to fit in his hands and react exactly how he wanted you too.

"Knew you'd be a good rider," he pants, not giving you a second to recover before he's dropping both his hands to lift you from behind your thighs... and my god, are you soft there. He can feel the muscle of your leg, trained and firm; it's no wonder how you could control that horse. With legs like that, you could break the will of even the strongest of animals.

He needs to feel it around his cock. Now.

You slide down his front, letting his cock slide out of you, and bending at the waist to lean over onto the table, like you've been waiting for him to let you down so you could taunt him with your pretty ass, pussy pushed together by the swell of your thighs.

He can't stop touching you, fingers caressing the back of your knee all up your thighs to trace the outline of your pussy. Then it's in your hair, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you up, so he can lick your ear with his deep, raspy voice.

"Darlin', you're making it real hard not to take a picture of your adorable little pussy and keep it framed," he whispers, letting his fingers push into your for emphasis. You shake your head as much as you can, trying to ease the pressure on your scalp by grabbing his hand to alleviate some of your weight. He sees red. "You not gonna answer me? You can moan on my cock, like a whore, but you won't beg for me not to flaunt the most gorgeous piece of ass I've ever had the pleasure to ruin?"

"Not dignified enough for me to answer," you hiss back.

No one, not even his dick of a boss, pisses him off quite as much as you do. He doesn't know what it is about you, something makes him want to grab the riding crop Remy uses on the difficult ones so he can train you properly. He loves the challenge.

"Be that way then." He slams you back down onto the card table, forcing your legs open and shoving his cock between your thighs. You clench them together, the warm pressure making Wren sigh in pleasure. You let him use your body, let the thrusts push you back and forth, as Wren fucks your thighs, keeping his hand in your hair the whole time. You are drunk on the feeling of his cock rubbing against your pussy, if you tilt your hips justttt so, you can feel it rub against your clit, sparks flying up your spine, pushing you further and further into the haze of sex and alcohol you've wandered into.

"You gonna be a doll and let me cum on your thighs? Or am I going to have to ask for that nicely too?” He mocks.

"As long as you feed it to me after." Wren laughs.

"You got yourself a deal. Easiest-" He pushes against you violently. "-One-" Another jerk of his cock. "-I've ever-" Another. "-Made." And you feel the heat of cum on your pussy, slick and sticky and wet, dripping down to your thighs.

Looking down, you can see the trail run, a copious amount still pooled. You look back, to Wren, who has a smirk on his face, like the cat that's caught the canary.

"You gonna say thank you? Or am I gonna have to fuck that out of you too?"

#dol #degrees of lewdity #wren the smuggler #angelic songs #did i fucking do a shit ton of research on horses for this?#yes #yes i did #.SMS SENT #🍩 of dol

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