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itstheoneshot · 8 months

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Relief

request

Summary: Although you don’t get involved in any of the real business, you serve a purpose to your gang leader husband that nobody else could.

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Oral, Praise Kink, Mafia AU.

You feel bad for thinking it, but you like it when your husband has a bad day. Not because you want him to be miserable, not at all, but because of the way he treats you when that is the case.

He is a leader of one of the city's biggest gangs. Underground, but with power above ground, giving you a life of luxury. Cars, clothes, jewellery, and all he ever wants is for you to be happy, comfortable, and know that you are his number one, ride or die, the love of his life.

That is why you like it when a fight breaks out, or a deal falls through. You know that it will resolve, Chanyeol never lets anybody down, just like his father before him he is unstoppable and intelligent enough to fix any problem, but he always reacts the same way before a resolution is found.

He loves you. That is one thing that he feels he has complete control over, a situation that he can always predict and because he knows that he comes home to you after any shitty situation, the story repeats itself and you know exactly what to expect.

“Jagiya!” He calls out to you, and you hear the front door slam behind him, “Where are you?”

You don’t miss the trace of whining in his voice. You were expecting him, and aware of how today went down. He had been keeping you up to date, though without the finer details, as he likes to keep you separate because it’s safer that way, my love, you know it wasn’t good.

“Daddy!” You giggle, skipping down the marble staircase to greet him, watching his expression soften as you meet at the foot of the stairs, “I missed you.”

Chanyeol picks you up off the floor and you cross your ankles around his waist, kissing him all over his face before colliding your lips together. The kiss is deep and slow, passionate, a reminder to him that you are here and ready for him to relax and restore the sanity lost from today's earlier event. His hands settle on your ass to help keep you steady, and he steps back to press you up against the wall. It is hot and heavy so quickly, Chanyeol’s desire for you is insatiable, it has been this way ever since you met, only growing stronger as the years go by.

“I missed you too, baby,” He purrs, “I wanted nothing more than to come home to you all day, I’m so happy to be back.”

You never get enough of Chanyeol’s praises, loving the way that he always builds you up and makes you feel like the most important person in the world. You nuzzle your nose with his before kissing him again, moaning into his mouth as he grinds into you against the wall. You drag your nails up his back, tickling his neck and then tugging on his ears when you reach them, knowing full well that this makes him fold. Now it is his time to moan, and you are carried away from the wall and down the hallway towards the living room. Chanyeol tries to mix it up, taking you in every room in the house, and not always just the bedroom. It is fun, finding new positions and new things that you both like, keeping it fresh after all these years is so easy with him.

He stops at the sofa where he places you down, and he quickly begins to undress you. You playfully try to stop him, pushing him back with your feet, but this only makes it easier for him to pull your leggings down. You whine in want for him as he tugs his t-shirt up over his head, and he responds by moving forward to take your shirt off, too. He palms your breasts with one hand as the other unfastens your bra to take it off, and he kisses down your neck, your chest, now moving to kiss your breasts, nibbling softly on your sensitive buds, your back arches for him, begging for more.

When you are nice and marked up, he guides you to turn around, half hanging over the back of the couch, staring into the mirror on the wall behind it. Chanyeol looks insane behind you, fully taken over by desire as he catches you staring. He trails his fingers down your back to your panties before removing them too. You are now naked, and he is in only his underwear after he desperately pulls his jeans down, you can see how hard he is and you try to grind back into him, but he is not close enough. He leans down again to kiss the back of your neck, and you are transfixed as you watch his reflection, feeling the way he kisses each vertebrae as he moves down your back, past your waist, down to your ass. He moans against your skin as he kisses the plump flesh, and he guides you to spread your legs for him, which you do with no complaints, finally realising what he is going to do to you.

He finds the perfect position and wastes no time diving in, the feeling is electric as his tongue hits your clit. You push back into him, wanting more, chasing the pleasure he so effortlessly provides. He moans into you, the vibrations travel through your body and have you gasping for air. You aren’t sure whether you or Chanyeol are enjoying this more, but from the look on your face in the mirror in front of you, it is pretty clear that you are loving it. Chanyeol’s tongue presses easily between your folds, lapping up your juices, he is obsessed with the way that you taste. You feel goosebumps cover your skin as you ascend to your high, your legs begin to shake but Chanyeol holds them still, not letting you close them on his head like you are involuntarily threatening to do.

“Daddy,” You whimper, biting your lip to try and centre yourself, “Gonna cum, can I cum, pretty please?”

Chanyeol pulls away for only a second to utter his reply, “Cum for Daddy, baby girl.” before he moves back down, suckling on your clit to help you get there, thrusting into you with two fingers because Daddy always has to feel you sucking him in and then it happens.

Your orgasm is intense, your cries are loud but strangled, caught in your throat from the overwhelming pleasure. You can barely hear Chanyeol’s own moans over the sound of yours, he doesn't slow down until you try to clamber away from him, overstimulated but wanting more, wanting him to fill you up instead, knowing that he needs to get his fix too.

He retraces his steps, kissing up your back to your neck, his lips slicked with your arousal, he looks so hot when he leans back to take off his underwear. His cock is hard, red and leaky, but that won’t be for too long, as you push your ass out, wiggling it to tease him, and he resumes position behind you, guiding the tip to your oversensitive cunt. You cry out as he thrusts into you, not giving you any reprieve he fills you straight away. He stares at you in the mirror, his eyelids heavy, siren eyes while yours are more that of a doe, innocent and empty, lost and needing guidance, and that is what he is there for.

He thrusts into you fast, sweat beading on his brow bone, fingers tangled in your hair to keep you conscious, keep you watching the way that he fucks you in your reflection. This is hotter than you would have thought, watching him take you, feeling the way that his cock hits that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you, knowing the best positions to get you reeling.

“So perfect, baby,” He murmurs, “Look at you, so sexy, taking all of me.”

You admire the picture of you two, knowing that he is right. You two are the perfect match in appearance and personality, soulmates probably, definitely each other’s, other half. With a particularly hard thrust you cry out, tears pricking your eyes as the sensitivity begins to overwhelm you, and though you could tap out here, you are not sure whether Chanyeol is anywhere near done.

“Anything for you, Daddy,” You moan, using all your strength to push back into him, matching his rhythm because you can see how much this turns him on, “You feel so good inside me.”

It is unspoken, the fact that he takes you like this as a reprieve to recover from an awful day. You are sure that he knows that you know, but you never point it out, instead being warm and wet and ready to take him, pretending that it is only out of love, and not also because he needs to feel in control and in charge. You are willing and wanting, feeding into your praise kink, loving the way that he worships you and has to prove that he can do well, always getting you to orgasm as many times as he can.

You can barely hold yourself up now, slumped over the back of the sofa, as Chanyeol continues to fuck you, one hand in your hair, holding your head up so that you can watch, the other hand at your core, touching your clit in time with his thrusts into you. As one orgasm ends, another starts, you can barely breathe anymore and it feels so fucking incredible.

“Daddy’s gonna cum,” He growls, and you feel it, his movements faltering, “Fuck.”

He pulls out just in time, grabbing his cock and stroking only two more times before he releases in hot spurts all up your back, the feeling familiar, but strange every time. His breathing is heavy, and you admire the way his face contorts, overcome with pleasure and in pure bliss. He falls forward to kiss you, as both of you try to catch your breath, unmoving and not wanting to be anywhere else. You feel so lucky, to live the life that you do with the person that you do, enamoured and obsessed in exactly the same way that he is.

Chanyeol repositions you, he sits himself on the sofa and pulls you onto his lap with your knees either side of his hips. You feel his cum dripping down your back and it makes you shiver, but you are soon distracted as he guides your arms over his shoulders and pulls you in to kiss him again. He is insatiable, and you think that his day must have been worse than he had told you, but you are loving the attention too, it has been a few days since you have had this much from him, so you’ll take it.

“I love you,” He murmurs when he breaks for air, “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” You giggle, kissing the tip of his nose, “I love you too.”

#kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop smut #exo #exo fanfic #exo smut #fic request #chanyeol #park Chanyeol #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol smut #park chanyeol fanfic #park chanyeol smut #park chanyeol x reader

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queerprayers · 1 year

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hello :)

i am debating in participating in lent (my 1st time) but how do u do lent actually? thx :)

Welcome, beloved! You've given me a lovely excuse to write about Lent. Whether or not you choose to have a Lenten practice this year, I hope I can help!

I talked about Lent a little yesterday here. I'll write about fasting and ideas for practices today, so you can check out those posts for more specific thoughts. I also know that discussions surrounding fasting are triggering for some people, and want to confine those thoughts to one post that's easier to avoid. Please know that avoiding that topic is perfectly valid and your Lent can be holy and fulfilled without it (and will be more holy/fulfilled by avoiding something harmful to you).

Lent is the season before Easter commemorating Jesus's forty days in the desert, spent preparing for Holy Week and Easter. Western churches begin Lent on Ash Wednesday (tomorrow) and Eastern churches begin on Clean Monday (the 27th). Many Christians choose to set this time apart by changing something about their lives/practice, which often includes giving up something. Some denominations have communal guidelines that people participate in.

Lent is not a time to engage in disordered/self-harming/destructive behavior. We cannot give in to the temptation we might have to spend Lent punishing ourselves. There is a difference between sorrow and misery, healthy guilt and unhealthy guilt, self-discipline and self-punishment. We can mourn without self-destruction, we can address our flaws without spiraling, we can prepare ourselves without wasting away. It might take practice, and Lent may be the time for us to figure out that balance.

(Lent also isn't a new year's resolution, or a self-help book. Bettering ourselves is holy to God all year. And Lent may be the time to start a habit/practice. But are you preparing yourself for the crucifixion? Or just working out.)

So how do we do Lent actually? We might participate in communal practices, like fasting guidelines and worship, but many of our Lenten practices are personal. We choose Lenten practices as commitment, as liberation, as sacrifice, as solidarity, as mindfulness, as witness, as prayer, and most of all, as preparation. The easy answer of "how to do Lent" is to make these forty days different than all the others. Generally there are two ways of doing this: giving up something in your life, and adding something to your life. I especially value when these things go together! Giving up something creates space (time/resources/energy)--what can you now do with that space? (Ex: What will you do with the money that you usually spend on a latte?)

As Jesus experienced in the wilderness, sometimes we have nothing but God. Many people choose to give up things during Lent to bring them closer to that state of simply existing, of having nothing but God. What is something you feel like you can’t live without? What would your life look like without it? What do we have when we have nothing but God? (Everything.)

Dear God, I am so afraid to open my clenched fists! Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to? Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands? Please help me to gradually open my hands and to discover that I am not what I own, but what you want to give me. (Fr. Henri Nouwen)

We fast in Lent to feast in Easter (sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically). I don't mean throw away our goals, and sometimes we begin practices in Lent that we want to continue throughout the year, because Lent is preparation for life as well as death. But I think some things should be set apart for Lent. And if you have trouble feasting, be cautious fasting. If you always deny yourself joy, how is doing that for Lent any different?

A point that's been very important to me: We know that Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness preparing for death. I know how to plan and prepare for death. I've had a lot of practice. Sometimes I forget that he was also preparing for and planning his life, and this is just as important. Some Lents are spent in the wilderness preparing to live. We are not just preparing for the crucifixion. We are preparing for the resurrection.

You say you're debating participating in Lent, so I wanted to make clear for anyone who doesn't end up with a Lenten practice: You're welcome here, and you're welcome at Easter. John Chrysostom has a lovely Easter sermon about this. However you arrive at the resurrection, it's for you. If you do nothing, if you give in to all your flaws, if you forget that Easter's coming and don't prepare: Easter will come, and it comes for you. Lent is something we can only do willingly, and it is not part of everyone's practice. I think it's immensely important and valuable, but please know that life and joy are available to you regardless. God's feast is for those who feast all year, as well as those who fast. I prefer to come to a feast hungry, but we don't turn away the satisfied.

We don't practice Lent because we have to, we do it because we want to mark time with somber contemplation as well as joy. We do it so when we get to Holy Week and Easter, we have been present and aware of what we're getting into, so we arrive empty and yearning. We don't change our lives to deserve anything, but because we want to be better, because we care. Because the worst person on earth can still experience God, but does that mean we should let ourselves be that person? (The atheists I know understand this more than me: to do good without promise of eternal rest, to love without divine command, to care for the dust that we are without believing we're anything more. May we also do good without expectation of reward and without fear of punishment, and love not just because we're commanded to but because we choose it. May we choose Lent, not just let it happen.)

Whatever Lent looks like for you this year, I wish you fulfillment and the knowledge of God's presence. Remember, this is a season, which means this is not your last chance. Next year has a Lent, too, and all the years after that. Maybe this Lent you'll spend deciding what to do for next year's Lent. Lent being a season also means that you can begin it whenever you wish. If, twenty days into calendar Lent, you begin a prayer practice, you have experienced Lent. Forty days is a remembrance of Jesus's experience, not a magic number. And always, no matter how much we prepare, may we let Easter catch us off guard and surprise us, as it should.

<3 Johanna

#asks #my pastor as a kid would read that chrysostom sermon every easter at the asscrack of dawn in the graveyard #and i would be freezing and tired and wish we were inside #but now i would do anything to experience that again

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himboskywalker · 1 year

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I’m a person about the cyclical nature of life and death and rebirth and new beginnings. Life was immensely hard for me in 2022,maybe the hardest year I’ve ever had. There were so many distinguishing life events for me that I know I’ll probably always carry with me,some horrifically awful,and some poignantly wonderful. I had a lot of self discovery in my death of self,and the death of this period of my life. I came out to some family which I never conceived of happening! And I’ve done some further self evaluation to tentatively admit I think I’m gender fluid as well as being bisexual.

In 2023 I’m moving states,permanently away from my family and hometown for the first time in my life. And it’s a funny funny thing,the cyclical nature of death and rebirth and life. I never much liked my real name my mom gave me,it has a meaning I never identified with or liked being associated,and it’s something I’ve never felt an attachment to. Most people in my life have always called me by a nickname,or my surname. Back in 2016 I went to my first larp and spur of the moment chose my character name as Tag on the drive there. (Because of fanfiction I had read at like 13 & a longing I didn’t even know how to identify.) I couldn’t have comprehended that seven years later thousands of people would call me that,both in real life and online.

But 2023 feels like a rebirth,a new beginning for me. I’m moving to be near all my larp friends,and it’s funny that in this new life everyone will know and perceive me as Tag,just like you guys do.It is both a character I chose for myself almost a decade ago,and the person I now know I’ve been pining for and finally become. Without aplomb or even purposefully,through the years nearly everyone in my life calls me this now.I don’t have any new year’s resolutions this year,not great goals of word count or stories or self betterment. I am simply choosing to pursue happiness and an honesty of self I’ve never quite allowed myself. So hey guys! I’m Tag and looking forward to this new part of my life ❤️

#tag times

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merkleymrack · 1 year

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i didn't really make any new years resolutions (aside from doing dry january i guess) because i don't really tend to stick to them anyway. But the other thing is that a lot of the things i think would be worthwhile to try are things that really frighten me.

i spend a lot of time very afraid and avoiding being paralysed by fear. for about a year now i've been kind of forcing myself out of my shell and doing things that make me happy and feel good in the moment, and feel more at home in my body. i really needed that and i need to keep doing it, but i also have to practice addressing the stuff that is stressing me out. i've coped with a lot of things by either ignoring it until it passed or fixating on it.

one thing (1) i really ought to do is address the wrist pain i've had for years now. but i don't want to find out it will never go away, so i avoided going to a physiotherapist. another thing (2) is unpacking my boxes and setting up my room properly, but i'm already dreading having to move out again at some point so i didn't want to commit to it. the third thing (3) is getting my finances and documents in order, and i suppose i'm in the process of that, although making important phonecalls makes me feel ill, and it is taking much longer than it ought to, but it will get done. i would like to do roller derby again (4) but i am quite unfit now and it's difficult and it takes a lot out of me to get over myself and go to practice. then again i don't really have any commitments other than a part-time job right now so it would be a good time to give it another go. (5) i want to get more in touch with my transmasculinity and get on a waiting list for gender related care, i am determined to do so. that part of me has been closeted or repressed in one way or another for years but it refuses to die.

i would like to draw... (6) i miss it. it's hard to express myself in any more permanent way. i haven't really wanted to take photographs, or to write or draw. it feels embarassing. when i was younger i kept desperately trying to figure out who i was or what i was trying to achieve, i tried to impress others, sometimes specific people, sometimes holding myself to an imagined standard of presentability. i was highly concerned with whether i could someday make money or a career out of the things i was doing. i didn't realise i was doing it a lot of the time, until i looked back on it later. now i'm aware i don't really know who i am or what i'm doing and it doesn't matter, and i don't feel like i want to impress anybody. now begins the struggle to convince myself it's worthwhile anyway. to do it for fun, to pass the time, to entertain myself, to help myself, to communicate. to keep things private if i want to. not because they aren't "good enough" but because i don't always need an audience to justify my decisions or to validate my feelings.

on the other hand i've been feeling a neurotic desire to document and catalogue everything creeping up on me. it's been there for a long time, taking different forms. maybe as long as i can remember. because i'm afraid i'll lose it or forget it... what if it was important?... i fight this feeling. maybe i'll document some things. right now it is much more important to me to be present in real life without a stomachache, without being occupied with what i would feel like if i was in a different situation alrogether. i like to share something with another person and believe that i'm not the only one holding on to that thought anymore. i like to believe that maybe it will come back to us someday in a different form, or maybe not. that there may be some mystical quality in what persists and what doesn't, a serendipity, that nothing truly important will be lost forever. i know that not everything is important but it's difficult to tell what is and what isn't. i've had to lie to myself a lot about what it is i truly care about, to survive some really deep pain. i'm trying to be more honest about my true feelings wherever possible. i'm trying to get through kneejerk reactions, being embarassed to be vulnerable, or angry or worried about something not being quite right, and figure out what i really want underneath this muck.

i don't know what 2023 is going to bring. i used to approach a new year as a "clean slate", an opportunity to make up for last year's missed opportunities and mistakes. i don't care to do that anymore. for a long time now i've compulsively made plans for my future in order to reassure myself there is a correct way to proceed and that things will be okay if i follow the plan. i spent so much time concerned with imagining possible futures because it was painful to fully grasp my reality. i don't have "a Plan" anymore. it scares me a lot but increasingly i am feeling free of a lot of weight i was carrying for a long time.

i have some lowercase p plans... i want to make a zine. i want to go for long walks. i want to make my bedroom nice and get a lot of good sleep. save up some money. spend quality time with cherished friends. i'd like to get another job that is at least vaguely related to my interest in arts and culture. maybe i'll go back to college but it will be part time if i do so. eventually i want to move out but i probably won't be able to do that this year without loans. i think i'd like to go to croatia this summer, even if just for a short visit.

i had some really hard times last year and i also had some really wonderful ones. for the first time in a long while i had a lot of genuine peace too. i hope for more peace this year. i am trying to allow for it.

#mine

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300iqprower · 2 years

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The problem nowadays is that nobody wants to figure things out except for very few fandoms. Undertale and Deltarune are honestly rarities simply because they're full of people who prefer to find out the mysteries of the game for themselves. Kirby has been like that for years. Other series see an easier route in the model fnaf and dark souls laid out and it works out just as well so that's why most other series go that road.

IMO it's half people wanting everything spelled out, which has always been an issue, but now in addition the new problem of people thinking anything NOT spelled out is "inaccurate" or "misinterpreting" even when it's something that explicitly meant to be interpretive. People have no just become too lazy to read into something themselves, but obsessed with the idea of concrete answers and direct validation. With Dark Souls it's the fault of those around it, not the series itself, but with FNAF it's totally its own fault.

Dark Souls has a masterful balance of implicit storytelling with text and then showing over telling when it gives its concrete info. The facts are there, but they're presented in an interpretive medium, and the series has gone out of its way to distance itself from fan theory. It has a story but it's not afraid of its audience devising their own take on it. The format works best with Bloodborne because as a brilliant post put: It's wet. It's something alive, changing, and in many ways unknowable, and all of that plays off the format. It has some of the most straightforward storytelling and yet several years later people are piecing new things together. Dark Souls meanwhile pretty much collapsed under its own weight when it came to creating a resolution. I don't think it failed per se let alone is bad but Dark Souls 3 was unfinished, and it really really really showed with the ripple effect that had on both gameplay and story. But that's going on tangents.

FNAF meanwhile is just bad. I think I've made clear i fucking hate that franchise in the past but even disregarding my personal feelings towards both the series' gameplay quality and the ethics of its creator, IT'S A FUCKING MESS. I watched the Game Theory vids like every other teenager online did, and it was only years later I realized I had a completely different mindset in enjoying them: I saw the fun as being the speculation, not because you were "getting answers" but the series itself decided to take that approach with all this cryptic bullshit and the series' creator egging on the theories himself and directly saying there WERE concrete answers to everything. It was certainly good marketing but it was shit storytelling and in the long term obliterated the storytelling process for such games, FNAF itself included; everything after the third one I'd say but I'm generalizing since I know there's like 2 or 3 between where I lost interest and where I checked in on the new one just to laugh at the dumpster fire I'd heard so much about. Either way my point stands that when the more it tried to elaborate on itself the less coherent it became, and in the general indie space now everything has to have speculation not for the sake of your own for fun elaboration, but just to piece together any canon at all.

TLDR, the point of speculation shouldn't be to have any plot at all, it should be a for-fun exercise to extract more personal investment from the plot. People copy Dark Souls's approach without understanding any of its nuance, and FNAF has created this idea that everything has a concrete answer that can be spelled out and if it isnt spelled out then it's "wrong" when narrative speculation and interpretation shouldnt be something that's "right or wrong" to begin with. And Toby Fox absolutely gets that, it's exactly why his narratives can be so multilayered and meta without becoming convoluted or losing meaning if you just experience it as is. And the series that inspired it like Kirby and Mother are much the same, thought I'd say Toby's work is easily the most emotionally gripping for me personally.

#writing shit #writing analysis #dark souls #soulsborne #never thought i'd get an ask #fandoms are the worst i stg #kirby #eh....i dont wanna tag the other one. Fuck that franchise and its creator with a rusty axe.

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rhubarb-pie · 3 months

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How do I know if I've been told to do something?

It's difficult to understand if our intuition is correct or not. Sometimes I feel like I am meant to do something, or I am meant to act on something, or I am destined to fulfill something in my life. How does one differentiate their own thoughts from what God tells them?

Now, I've previously detailed how I see coincidences frequently, and how I know God has at least communicated with me through those. But to hear something? A phrase? It's near impossible for me to prove to anyone that this came externally. You're just going to have to take my word for it.

As a disclaimer, I truly believe that these thoughts were not mine. These phrases were often responses to questions I've asked. These are questions I've asked time and time before, but hadn't heard anything. I heard these phrases within the same year, and have not heard anything since.

In early 2023 when I was finishing up New Year's resolutions, personal goals, and mapping for what I wanted my yearly schedule to look like, I sat at my desk and asked God what he wanted me to do this year. I heard a voice, or at least the voice inside of my head, say "fight evil".

I sat with that for a second and stared at the wall. Knowing that there are truly heinous tragedies that happen in the world, I felt like I heard something wrong. It seems like the world is nearly falling apart. Looting at grocery and clothing stores, gun violence rampant, politicians evidently lying to our faces, and children being groomed and castrated by adults. The list goes on. I was terrified hearing "fight evil" because I am just one person. It is impossible for me, the most unqualified person on the planet, to fight any kind of substantial evil in the world.

Except! It dawned on me. I learned after practicing yoga for a few years, that yin and yang are intertwined. You cannot have the good without the bad.

I then thought, perhaps the evil to be fought is found within. Every person is capable of good and evil. It is up to us to constantly stave off evil from creeping into our hearts, and tainting us, tempting us into sin. It certainly is no easy task, but it encourages me to strengthen my newfound faith in Jesus Christ.

Coincidentally enough, the first Bible verse I had ever heard, and you may have heard this one too because it's quite popular, was Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (KJV). It's quite fitting since this is the prime place to start whilst beginning a spiritual journey.

As I journeyed along, and continued fighting the ongoing battle against inner evil (no big deal), I felt like things were going quite smoothly. I was in a steady routine and my mental health was improving, I'd say. Before, there would be days of fog, self doubt, and anxious thoughts. Everything felt calm and purposeful now.

Now, the fight against evil will always be an uphill battle, but I was ready for a new task. So then, in that moment, I said to God "I understand that there is a lot of evil in the world, and that these things will take a ton of smart people to help tackle. What should I help with"? I was careful to use the word 'help'. It's most definitely arrogant to assume one person can be a savior against a substantial worldly issue. In fact, God warns us about one person falsely rising up to be a savior to all. I figured I'd need to meet the right people that I could be an asset to.

Almost immediately, a response was given. "fight famine".

Okay... now what? It took me some time to connect the dots to make sense of these words. Where I am from it seems that there are more people overweight than starving. We have grocery stores filled to the brim with preserved foods, and meals ready to order.

Famine is defined as a severe and prolonged hunger crisis that affects a large portion of a region's or country's population. There are people starving in various areas in the world, yes, but it seems like the problem there is displacement. The United Nations had issued a statement on their organization's website, in an article titled "Can we feed the world and ensure no one goes hungry?" from Ratanak Leng, that reads "Enough food is produced today to feed everyone on the planet, but hunger is on the rise in some parts of the world, and some 821 million people are considered to be “chronically undernourished”.

Perhaps the ongoing famine is not from the shortage of food, it is from the shortage of nutrients from food. This makes me think, is there a shortage of nutrients? I had written a series of essay, years ago in high school, about soil depletion and how an orange decades ago had ten times more vitamin C than a modern orange. "Dirt Poor: Have Fruits and Vegetables Become Less Nutritious?" from The Scientific American summarizes well, how our foods are becoming less nutrient dense than they were before.

About a year goes by, and I try not to think too much into evil or famine. Since they're both pretty heavy topics, I try to keep my days optimistic. I don't like to spiral. God will deliver me to where He wants me to be, in due time.

The engineering team I am on began shifting work around, and reallocation with product functions were given. I was assigned to work on a weather related product. So, I am hosting this meeting with a weather data supplier, and I learn that they're working with a very famous billionaire on an agriculture project. I think oh, that's interesting. They are using the weather to enhance agricultural practices. I looked into this project, and I think they're doing everything wrong. Factory farming is terrible for the soil! I kept these thoughts in the back of my head.

For some reason, I had this notion that this billionaire was evil. He generally doesn't seem like a good guy, and I'm sure this bias comes from the internet. For all I know, he could be a swell guy in person.

As soon as the supplier brought up the project, my ears perked up and I felt like I was supposed to be paying attention. Call me crazy, but I think I was either supposed to join in on the project-- except I fundamentally disagree with it-- or poke around at the problem that this highlights.

I'm not sure what to do with this feeling, except continue my own research and maybe even build my own project to solve the problem. The problem being soil depletion causing a modern famine.

If it is in God's will it will be. If not, then He will redirect me to where this is supposed to lead me. He told me to fight evil, fight famine. It's possible there could be something small here I could help out with. Let's see where the rabbit hole takes us.

#christianity #christian faith #faith in jesus #jesus christ #holy spirit #christian

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phantom-le6 · 4 months

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Ramble of the month January 2024: New Year’s Medley of Rambles Take 2

We’re now getting my third year of doing monthly rambles, and as with last year, I’m starting off by covering a few different topics in one go. As ever, I’ve been evading the New Year’s traditions of saying “Happy new year”, since 24-hour happiness for 365 days straight is impossible, or 366 days with this being a leap year, as well as resolutions since making life-changes based on a calendar change isn’t going to last. However, lasting life changes can still happen for a reason, and the first subject is one that I’m going to be looking into more over the coming year, which brings us to our first topic.

Independent living and the challenges of facing it as an autistic person

For reasons I won’t divulge here, 2024 is going to be when I start looking at independent living for myself with more seriousness. It’s something I’ve looked at over the years in bits and pieces, and often what I learn makes it seem increasingly impossible for me to achieve. Given that autism and demand avoidance are almost always hand-in-hand, this usually means every time I find out a bit more, it’s weeks or months before I can hear or say anything on the topic without getting anxious and stressed.

Given this, some of you may wonder why I’d consider independent living at all. Well, the simple truth of the matter is that sooner or later, it’s a fundamental necessity of reality that all of us have to stand on our own two feet at some time or another. Any parents or guardians that raise us will eventually reach a point where they’re not able to keep providing and caring for us. This means that at some point, we have to take on the responsibility of caring for ourselves. Of course, given the inadequacies of western education systems and support for autistic individuals like myself, trying to live independently as an autistic person will be very different to the experiences of others.

How will things be different? Well, to be frank, independent living requires two key things working effectively to be viable. First, a person needs to possess sufficient domestic self-care skills to avoid any issues arising from mismanaging one’s own household, such as hygiene-related health issues, malnutrition and so on. While many autistic people can struggle in this area, I can usually handle this side of things quite well. The second thing is income versus expense; what you earn has to exceed your cost of living. Based on estimates I was able to work out during the lockdown era, my current income doesn’t really begin to cover the potential costs of living by myself, and despite recent cost of living increases, I doubt this simple fact as changed. With prices only likely to rise going forward, this is going to be the key area that I will need to address as the new year unfolds.

Of course, increasing one’s income is seldom an easy thing to do, and perhaps even more so for people on the autistic spectrum like myself. Convincing employers, even those that profess a real commitment to equality-minded hiring, to employ any differently abled people can often be a challenge, even if you’re fortunate enough to be articulate with good writing and communication skills. All too often, the challenges our differences give us can trip us up, and if we’re one of two or three strong candidates, we may well lose out just because we’re competing against others who aren’t differently abled and so don’t require any adjustments to perform a certain role.

It also doesn’t help that employers are not in the habit of rewarding loyalty to them by existing employees, either by offering promotions based on merit or taking this into account when considering applications and interviews. Since my current employer started putting most if not all its job roles straight out to the public, I’ve not had much luck getting higher jobs, and in one or two cases, the people who got these job roles came from outside the organisation. Granted, there were probably other factors involved as well, but if you work somewhere for many years, you expect that service to be rewarded, so I call out on employers, public and private, to give more differently abled people a chance and to allow for internal merit-based promotion as well as application-based general hiring.

This all being said, it’s not all about getting a better primary job role. Increasing income can also come from other sources, which brings me to my second topic of this ramble.

Updates on my various efforts as an author:

Since about 2016, I’ve been working on a multitude of books, beginning with a factual one based on my experiences as an autistic person and then developing fiction novels based on some of the factual book’s points. Development on the factual book has been more extensive than with the fiction elements, but due to various reasons, that development has been on hold for a while. Most of those reasons, including the disruption of the Covid pandemic and recently seeking and gaining formal NHS diagnosis of my autism, no longer stand in my way, and the sole reason I had left was hoping for feedback from colleagues that work in the area of SEN education.

Sadly, all of those colleagues have dropped out of my life in recent years, and what few charities I’ve contacted for feedback have been similarly unresponsive. Given this, and my pressing need for whatever additional income book royalties could provide, I’ll be starting this year with what I hope will be a final re-draft before seeking any publishers that may be interested in the factual book as the starting point in a whole run of books. Because I feel some of my other book ideas may need some assistance to develop them, I don’t want to go down any self-publishing routes, so if I strike out with actual publishers, please don’t go suggesting that I self-publish. My experience of unsuccessfully trying to use Amazon to sell some old DVDs has convinced me anything automated is not to be trusted. If there’s not a person to help talk me through things, give me feedback and actually help me, it’s not for me.

Once I get to the point of approaching and waiting on responses from publishers, work will then recommence on my fiction-writing efforts. My initial trilogy of superhero novels remains at second draft stage for now due to being unable to work out how best to change a plot point each in the second and third novels. The points could each be taken as legitimately offensive by certain groups, but they are also key points that serve a particular purpose in the story, and as yet I can’t conceive of any alternatives. A further novel trilogy that I began work on in 2023 has been put on hiatus after I’d written most of the first instalment. The main reason for this is that I came to realise the central protagonist in the story was doing a lot of things that would probably alienate most readers.

As a result, I needed to stop and re-plot the whole thing, which has also impacted my plans for the whole trilogy and potential spin-offs. Luckily, this re-plotting is now done and some elements of the first novel will be salvageable for use in the revised plots. This trilogy will then become the focus of my writing while I wait to see which publishers, if any, may be interested in working with me. In addition to all of this, I will also be making time to carry on with reviews various film and TV shows I have yet to look through. At present, I’m working through my current film review back-log, and hope to get on with the comics-based crime drama Gotham by sometime in the spring of this year.

Going back to the matter of my factual autism book, the new draft will incorporate quite a few new things I hadn’t covered before that I’ve come across in the last few years. Among these is something I only learned about a month or two ago, which will be my third topic for this ramble.

Autismsexual vs Autisexual – what do these terms mean?

A month or two ago, an old school friend of mine highlighted these terms, having not heard about them previously and wondering what they could mean. Between being autistic, having various books being written about autism and autistic issues in progress and just being curious, I did a quick Google search to see what the wider world could tell me about this. From what little there was, it seems that while both terms relate to autistic people and sexual activity, each means something different. Apparently, the term Autismsexual is a term for people who are heavily attracted to or have a fetish for autistic people, while an Autisexual means an autistic person who incorporates their autism into their sexuality.

Given that human language and our knowledge of autism are both subject to regular update, it’s likely this is something that may yet change and update further, but for now, let’s assume this is set knowledge. The idea of having a fetish for certain traits in people is hardly a new idea, but typically these tend to be physical traits such as the colour or size of some particular physical thing, whether that be hair, skin or whatever. If autism is being fetishised, that means someone having a fetish for certain mental attributes, and somehow, I doubt that the autistic talent for mono-tasking or tendency to meltdown is what is being focused on, nor our sensory issues.

Like my friend, I suspect the so-called fetishism towards autistic people revolves around our social skill impairments, as these would make us vulnerable to being exploited by potential partners. This means that anyone identifying as an autismsexual is likely looking to exploit members of the autistic community, making this at least a form of abuse, possibly even a combination of mate crime (pretending to be a friend to exploit someone) and hate crime (hurting someone due a hatred for a group they fall within).

By comparison, the other term seems more positive, and I can certainly understand how an autistic adult with an interest in sexual relations might intersect their autism and their sex life. This could be a matter of having certain routines to keep sexual activity predictable, having a special interest that plays into sexual interactions, and as I’ve noted in other rambles, models of consent used in RACK (risk-aware consensual kink) can be more autism-friendly than the older “no means no” model, or even the more recent “cup of tea” model. This all being said, it also seems like something autistics should be careful about when discussing it with others.

When it comes to our special interests, which provide us with much of our predictability, many outside observers can mistake these for obsessions, compulsions or hobbies. It’s hard enough to overcome these misconceptions when a special interest is in something universal like superheroes, sports or trains. Imagine the difficulty if someone on the autistic spectrum develops a special interest in a certain kink or fetish, or in certain depictions of sex in entertainment media. If getting neurotypical society to understand what a special interest is to autistic people is a mine field for any universal subject, I can see achieving the same understanding where the special interest is sexual being like a nuclear mine field.

As such, I will be aiming to counsel caution to my fellow autistics in this area as I look into it more and start referring to it in anything I do to raise autism awareness. As much as I’d like to give neurotypical society the benefit of the doubt, I know full well that it’s often better to err on the side of caution. After all, if neurotypical society really wanted to do right by autistic people, odds are I’d already be living independently, earning a high income and would have a lot less to write about in the books I hope to publish. Since none of that is true, I think any autistic considering themselves autisexual needs to be very, very selective about who they confide in about that side of themselves, if indeed they confide in anyone about it.

That concludes my ramble for this month. Hopefully you’ve all enjoyed it, so until next time, ta-ta for now.

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kafkaoftherubble · 4 months

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年与年之间恍惚的阈限：末夜•旭日•无常

Part of this is cobbled from entries written on Paradehyde, 31st December 2023 at 10.38 p.m., and January 1st, 2024, both shortly after 12 am and 5.18 pm.

We haven't laid out our resolutions for this year. It should be done by this week.

Last year's Lyndises didn't make any resolution; we still didn't feel like the future would include us back then. The Knocking Lady didn't succeed in making any of us do what she really wanted, but she didn't really lose either. The future was tenebrous. Ungraspable. Packed with everyone else except us. There seemed to be no spot for us in the future; the future had overlooked us, we thought. It's like people; no matter how much I'm allowed to be around them, there will come a moment when I cease fulfilling their conditions, and they will leave, or I will fade away from them. It's not even out of malice. It just happens.

It's impermanence. Both the Lyndises and Fionn in the early days of the year already understood this. Hell, we understood this since we were kids. Impermanence. It's as natural as the sun rising and setting.

The year got better. My predecessors were really something. It wasn't really a mistaken boast when one of them declared, almost bitterly, "We always recover without help. We just do."

Though, it would be remiss of us to ignore the one who strived the hardest. "Without help" was a misnomer—this statement is only true if we treat Fionn as do the world out there does: as a non-person delusional existence attached to a person.

---

Last year's New Year Quote, according to Paradehyde, was Albert Camus' "One must imagine Sisyphus happy."

Last year's Word of the Year according to Lyndis of A Few Weeks Ago, was "interdependence." Because "dependent co-arising" was two words; it didn't fit the bill.

The Lyn at the Beginning of 2023 thought this would be "The Year of the White-Haired Boy." She meant Fionn, but the funny thing was that it turned out to be Gojo Satoru who hijacked that narrative. I didn't even realize I liked Satoru this much until that infamous Chapter 236. I could have gone on never knowing. And then he just took up my thoughts. And then I, supposed Dedicated Essayist for To Your Eternity, wrote essays on Jujutsu Kaisen. On Gojo Satoru, who already has a surplus of meta essays and whatnot.

Damn it.

I think another "Totally Trivial and Useless Realization" comparable to this Satoru shit is—okay, don't laugh—that we really, really, really... No wait, I said don't laugh, assholes! Don't laugh!

We really think, I mean, hypothetically... Like if a certain very famous Siddhartha was alive in our times, he might just be a cognitive scientist too. It seems so up his alley. I mean, yea whatever, he could totally become a philosopher and a teacher or something. But cognitive science, man. Come on. Makes too much sense when you really read what he said and thought about.

And I think—as in, I share the same sentiment as that unfortunate Lyndis who realized this while rambling about things with Lyishere—that if he were to be alive at this time, and I somehow got to know him personally... I think I'll like him a lot. I think I'll wanna befriend him and annoy the shit out of him and think about stuff with him and break his arguments apart if I don't think it holds. I would like to watch him all the way to his Awakening. I would like to study him. He would be very interesting to study—

"BRUH DID YOU JUST say your perfect partner is the Buddha?! HOLY SHIT, this is inSANE. OH MY GOD NEVER SAY MY STANDARDS ARE HIGH EVER AGAIN. LIKE MINE IS HIGH BUT NOT THE BUDDHA like bro ATEEZ MOUNTAIN MAN HIMBO CORE WITH OPPENHEIMER IQ IS ACTUALLY MORE NORMAL THAN THIS WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK"

Yea. I don't think anyone else needs to know about this. Let's just keep it between us, and Lyi, yea?

Fionn? Nah. He's more like Ananda than Siddhartha. Doesn't stop him from being someone I care about the most in this entire world, though.

---

I really like the days between the years. "Zwischen den Jahren" or something. It's its own liminal space, you know. And we are drawn to liminal spaces like that. It feels like where we seem to belong.

The thing about these days is that it makes for the best time to observe anicca! You watch the days between Christmas and New Year crawl toward finality. If it has been a bad year, it's ending. If it has been a good year, it's ending. If it has been a neutral year, it's ending. Everything ends. Nothing lasts.

And then, at one point, I suddenly felt quite... scared!

2023 started out not too impressive, but it progressively got better. In fact, it ended up being a huge step up from even the years before it. It was really the most bliss we had for a while.

And then, when 2024 came, I suddenly thought—well, who says it's gonna keep getting better? Who says it's gonna plateau in this comfortable stability, either? Everything is impermanent. Good times are impermanent too. Whatever peace I'm feeling right now—it's impermanent. It won't last forever. Something could come and yank it away from me.

And that, Lyndis of the Future, was me forgetting what anicca really means. As eventful or as storied as a moment may be, it will die. As packed with the strongest sentiments we could possibly experience or label—joy or stress or pleasure or pain or rapture or despair—no matter how royally this moment struts on a stage right now... it will drop dead and become history. Being momentous changes nothing. Being nondescript changes nothing.

So, of course the 8-foot Tall Woman jeered at me. I was scared of losing these good days because I grew attached to something impermanent in the first place. She would laugh at Fionn, too, because he tends to grasp on good moments and mope if something he likes is ending—for example, the end of a pleasurable trip would really make him brood.

It's kinda annoying cause' we often are aware of our attachments—that means we are knowingly being dissatisfied/suffering/distressed. Knowingly! It's like already knowing you're gonna hate this game, and you still buy it and play it. It's different from not knowing you'd hate this game and buying it and playing it, ya know.

"There's no fear for one whose mind is not filled with desires," said The Guy We Could Have Been Very Close Friends With Me. Well, we're certainly not without desires, that's for sure.

---

Fionn told me while we were lying on the floor listening to fireworks that though he was still thinking over his resolutions, there was one thing he wanted to continue pursuing: equanimity.

Well, I'm afraid you ain't getting that if you and I can't solve the attachment-to-impermanence problem, man.

The thing, guys, is that his resolutions are our resolutions. It's not a separate enterprise he undertakes on his own while I can undertake my efforts on my own. We are dependently co-arisen. He cannot get to where he wants if we don't help. It's the same in the world outside, between persons despite their supposed independence as human beings. One person cannot succeed without the backing of their closest, immediate environment; that includes the people in their lives.

So his wanting to pursue equanimity means we have to be resolute in that, too. What a drag.

The bigger drag is how, even though we started understanding anicca at a young age, we still grasp. I honestly don't think we have that many excuses.

You can forgive someone who didn't know much about this philosophy for being distressed over their attachments, but we already knew this and verified this through our own experience, over and over, at a young age.

You can forgive Past Lyndises for falling short because they were young, brain-not-matured-yet, inexperienced, and trying hard to survive, yadda-yadda. But I? I have no excuses. I am in a better position than my predecessor in January 2023 already. I am heir to the sum of their knowledge, experience, and thoughts. I honestly have no excuses.

I actually kinda like that. The fact that I have no excuses, I mean. To even arrive at this stage, where I'm living in such an optimal state as to have no excuses, means all of the previous Lyns have been skillful. They had, despite their circumstances, acted skillfully enough that now I am reaping the benefits! Isn't that swell? They planted causes that allow me good effects. Kamma done well, y'all. That's affirming shit right there!

I wouldn't want to let my Future Lyns down.

I wouldn't want to let Fionn down.

---

Emotions like anger and anxiety aren't permanent. I mean, they always seem permanent when they are happening, but that's an illusion. They cease on their own, ya know.

The reason why they don't cease, one of Past Us realized, is because you consciously or unconsciously extend them beyond their longevity.

Think of them as a flame on a candle. Before the flame dies out—which it will on its own—you keep lighting new candles with this flame. So the original candle of anxiety is dead, and yet new ones continue its existence... similar to a rebirth. You keep lighting new candles each time the old one is on its way out.

So this emotion is sustained. It looks like a blazing field, but if you look closely, it's really a sea of candles. And if you are heedful enough to refrain from lighting new candles, then you'll see even the strongest emotion die on its own course. That's just impermanence doing its work.

I wonder if this is, oddly enough, one solution for the impermanence of... well, bliss? Joy? What was that phrase again? Dittha-dhamma-sukha-vihara? Abiding in ease, here and now?

Anyway, lighting up candles with the flame of Ease before it die would mean sustaining Ease beyond its expiry date, right?

But Fionn raised a good point: I have to be really heedful of what candle to light, because if I accidentally light the ones of passion and excess joy, then I'll be stuck in a frenzy of lighting them forever before the flames run out.

It's got to do with dopamine. The pain in the death of "Good Times" is really the effect of lowered dopamine levels. The stronger the reduction, the stronger the crash. And dopamine acclimates itself to prolonged rewards and sets it as its new normal; it's how a brain functions. Something great will become merely good over time.

If I light the wrong candles, then I will lock myself into a constant fear of the flames blowing off, i.e. the crash of dopamine. The candles of passion are always getting shorter and shorter as dopamine acclimates itself to rewards, so I'll have to scramble to find more and more "arousing" (longer) candles to light. But that raises the "normal" dopamine level to even greater heights, making its crash even more terrifying and painful should it happen. I will only be even more scared.

Do you see what Fionn and I are seeing? We'll be enslaved by this fear. I'll be doomed to this Sisyphean work of lighting candles and stressing over when the crash is coming. It will be worse than Sisyphus's Rock-Rolling, because the slope keeps getting steeper, the rock larger, and the summit taller.

Sooner or later, not even the candles themselves will become joy. They will just morph into anxieties as if fucking Mahito had touched them and Mui Tenpen the shit out of them.

That's so unskillful! 嫌だ！

----

Which comes back to the question: what are we supposed to do?

Well... "What are we really trying to achieve" is a good question, I suppose:

Are we trying to extend a feeling of joy, or the longevity of "good things," beyond its expiry?

Or are we trying not to fear the impermanence of good things?

Which is it?

The more skillful goal seems to be the second one, methinks. The first is just good old "attachment" cosplaying as noble intent. Besides, the second goal is related to equanimity itself.

Oh, this is great! A good question to ponder during meditation! It will get us a tad bit closer to Fionn's resolution! Yes, this is a good start!

#a piece to the rubble

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highschoolarchives · 1 year

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Balancing Personal and School Life by Gillian Pelopero

Have you ever been mentally exhausted because you didn't know how to manage your personal life with school life? Or have your studies drained you to the point that you can no longer have fun with your friends? Well, so have I.

I’ve decided to reflect on the idea of finding a balance between school and personal life. And I'd like to discuss it from the perspective of a student because it's difficult to devote enough time to things outside of school. These things could include family, friends, hobbies, alone time, and many more.

I am a tired and busy woman from the STEM strand. Sometimes, I feel like I am spending way too much time in school and that I don’t give enough attention to my friends. I feel awful and guilty about it. Therefore, the need for balance simply resonates with me because I battle with it.

It's possible that this is the case for you as well; perhaps you're also finding balance. Maybe you're striving to get into a competitive program, or maybe what you're studying is incredibly hard, or maybe you're doing everything in your power to keep your grades up. That can be extremely tiring. I’ve been there and I’ve done that. And during this process, we may begin to feel as if we are losing ourselves and that our identity has gotten entwined with the school.

In my own experience, my social circle has reduced significantly. I am a lot more distant from people and it’s difficult to close that distance now because I’m so occupied with studying and meeting deadlines. Even when I do have free time, I don’t have the energy to socialize. It also seems like I dedicated so much time to school that I’ve lost interest in some of my hobbies. If this sounds like you and if you feel like you’re spending a lot of time in school, worrying over academics, try to reflect by now on what has changed about you.

I’ve been working so hard in school. Completing task after task, meeting deadline after deadline, dealing with calculus and chemistry, and trying to maintain 90+ grades in every subject. Although I get that 90+ grades, and even 99, when the semester is finally over, I felt as if I no longer knew who I was. I’ve been so preoccupied with school works that I feel like a shell of my former self when I don’t have any deadlines to meet. It, I believe, is a result of a lack of school-life balance.

It's a depressing stage to be in, and we should all try to avoid it by taking steps to help us find balance. Taking measures that will help us devote time and effort to things that don’t have anything to do with school is also crucial. For my new year’s resolution, I’ve decided to take at least a day off every week where I just don’t do anything school related without guilt. I would do what I enjoy - reading, going out with the gals, and watching Netflix series. Also, I always take time to catch up with my family.

I know that education is very precious, but so is time. This is why we need to find balance. If you are struggling with school-life balance, please make sure to make time for yourself. Take a day off and don’t think about school. Catch up with your personal life. Bond with your family and friends. Just simply have fun.

I, myself, also struggle in finding the balance. Some of my friends compliment me on how I have my life together and how I’m doing so well in school, but at the expense of what? With that being said, I’m sure that some students are so engrossed in academics. It’s wonderful but it also has its downside. Ultimately losing yourself in school is unhealthy. It will eventually lead you down the road and burn you out. So, learn to prioritize yourself.

Life is happening right now; it’s not happening later.

I hope that some of you can relate because I cannot be the only one who’s going through the balance crisis.

I am proud of you. Padayon!

#high school #student #teenage

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fatouseckcreates · 2 years

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Artists have a lot of feelings.

So I wanted to talk about my feelings for a bit. Ive been going to therapy (inconsistently) but the volume I need I just dont have the funds to afford it lol. SO I decided to come on here and ramble for a minute. Ive been having a bad couple of weeks, a bad few months, the last few years haven’t been too great either, if we’re being honest. Thats not to say that I haven’t received some amazing blessings throughout that time. I absolutely have. But I’ve been going through such a dramatic growth period some parts of this journey have felt overwhelming.

Thinking about freedom, personal choices, self acceptance, what is objectively right? Does that matter, when people are not meant to live objective lives? Life is subjective by nature we are meant to have very different experiences. So I wanna talk to yall and encourage myself to be a bit more free and more accepting of myself.

Pandemic aside, so many of us have been going through traumas, huge endings, beginnings, while still trying to remain present in the world. After all the changes I went through I had to look at myself and say wow, you have changed. And part of this change is exactly what you asked for. Exactly what you prayed for. But it doesn’t look the way you thought it would so now you feel like its a punishment. Right?

I had a talk with myself, because I was in a situation recently where I felt like I was done so wrong, and I lashed out. And later regretted it because I felt like even though my feelings were justified I should not have responded in a hurtful way if I wanted to be received and just continue having a conversation that ends in changed behavior or some kind of resolution. No matter who anybody else is, I should always remember my principles and treat people how I want to be treated. If I am the one causing the confusion or the pain and someone is telling me their experience I dont want to shouted at bombarded etc so give people what you expect from them, right? Even if I dont get it back all the time thats the standard I try to hold for myself because I want to be someone who treats people with integrity.

And as I replayed this last conversation over and over in my mind and how I wish I would’ve spoken differently I start to take it even further back. What was the root of my anger? Why did I go off like that in THIS particular moment, when all up til now I had been able to contain my anger in a way that was not an attack. So I took it back even further. Waaaay back. To last year back. And I started to look at things from the other person’s perspective. WHYYY did they think this was ok? Why did they move like that?

In the midst of my outburst I told this person dont act like a victim. Which is essentially what I was doing. And because the basis of me and this person’s friendship was literally that we have so much of the same experiences, so much of the same heartbreak and so many of the same trauma responses, I had to look again. I obsessively replayed the conversation in my head. I listened to their voice their words and I knew that I fucked up.

Me, I’m the one who cries anytime I have to talk about my feelings. I wasn’t always like this. IN fact, I wouldn’t know what I was like before because I never spoke about my feelings. All of this was new for me. But I appreciated this person because they wouldn’t let me go without speaking my mind. So I forced myself to get comfortable telling my truth. But yeah, so now I am a giant cry baby. I have accepted it. Its my new thing, as a result of all the bullshit I been holding in. All the things Ive been trying to deal with on my own that have not amounted to any sufficient healing, just a little bandaid here and there. Maybe I will always have those scars? Maybe one day they won’t creep up on me when im trying to speak on something else. Hurt is not logical, pain is not logical, but it is mathematical. It adds up, multiplies itself. The more you pile on top of it, the more you try to suffocate it ,it will turn around and swallow you up. It will totally consume you during conversations that have very little to do with it.

Here I was, feeling that I had been done wrong after wrong after wrong because I wasn’t getting my way. Because I couldn’t manipulate the situation. Because I couldn’t deny the situation. What I wanted was essentially to live in my own world where I get to be happy because I get what I want. Because I felt like there’s nooo way im going through 3 straight years of bullshit and then I STILL end up with a shitty ending there just no way God would do me like that? Me, your homegirl?? Your beloved daughter?

I put myself in their shoes. From the very beginning of this misunderstanding. Last year. I replayed all our old conversations. What went right. What I was thinking, what they were thinking. What I wasn’t saying, what they weren’t saying. What they did say that I wasn’t listening to. And I remembered being in a state of denial. Not wanting to make a final decision. Feeling caught in between 2 difficult choices where I felt like I was betraying people who were loyal to me, potentially fucking up life long relationships, to take a chance on something that felt right in the moment. I was frozen. I was prepared to wait it out until a decision just kind of made itself. Because I was afraid of making the wrong choice. Afraid of being ostracized. Afraid of people gossiping about me. Afraid of being messed up to someone who was there for me when I felt alone. I was afraid to break a promise. I froze. And while I was frozen pretending that I had all the time in the world, they were waiting on me to make a choice. And when I wouldn’t, they decided for themself. As most self respecting people would. But for me, this was a huge betrayal. And another layer to add to my drawer of L’s. While I was enjoying their company using it as an escape from the unhappiness and the grief that was swallowing me up, they were feeling like I would never make a decision. Like they would be caught in the wind waiting forever. When they brought it to my attention. I froze, again. Didn’t know what to say. I was leaning towards a decision, but again, wanted to be super super sure so I didn’t say much. I didn’t say what I should’ve. And because I decided to hold back, to be intentionally unclear, they decided their best course of action was to move forward without me.

While this was being communicated to me I did not understand that they were telling me “I am moving on from this because it is painful and I no longer wish to be in pain. I am avoiding any more hurt. I am giving up on you because you cannot make a definitive choice about me.” I thought once again I could sweep the conversation under the rug until I was ready to speak. Me, I need time to formulate my thoughts. Especially where feelings are concerned. Off the top of my head I DO NOT KNOW. I have to put them together. I have to make them make sense I have to break every single thing down because I am so afraid of being wrong. And I was still wrong lol.

This was the beginning of sooooo much pain for me. And the heaviness sat right on top of my chest, and wound itself up in the pit my stomach, and took all the other fucked up feelings and made this poisonous cocktail of insecurity, betrayal, confusion, regret, anger, toxicity. And this person, being who they were, believing that they were doing a noble, kind thing by helping me through my hurt, wanted to take responsibility for my feelings. To continue “fixing” me. (Maybe their lesson was that you can’t fix people?) Now, mind you, this whole time I had been receiving messages to let this situation go. Almost daily. But!! I refused. Because how tf was I gonna let go the only person in my life who was consistently providing me a safe space to be EXACTLY who I am. I was not willing to let that go because in my mind I would never feel this safe again. I would never feel this free again. Me who has perfected so well the art of compartmentalizing my life so that no one person knows every thing about me. I was felt comfortable to show up as myself, warts and all. And it felt GOOOD. To be seen, heard, understood. It felt amazing and I held on so fucking tight believing that THEY were the reason I had some relief from feeling fucked up all the time. When the wholesome this freedom was a choice I could have been making all along. But thats for another day.

And I took this hurt and rationalized it and told myself that I would still be able to have the ending I wanted, the one I came up with in my mind. And so I held on to that. As they were moving further from our shared history I was holding tighter. And as I clenched tighter the hurt multiplied. The WHY ME’S? What did I do wrong? Without actually believing I had done anything wrong. Without truly understanding that just because I had certain intentions doesn’t mean that everyone will go along with your plan, even if they are your friend and they like you. I thought how can someone who cares about me treat me this way? How can this person know exactly what the fuck I been through and continue treating ME this way? He wasn’t treating me anyway, he was moving forward from a potentially painful situation. I felt like I was supposed to fight. Fight to earn this love. Fight to earn this friendship, fight to keep them around because losing them felt scarrrrrry. And every time this person moved on with THEIR reality I took it personally, it felt like a shot straight to my heart. And I kept explaining myself explaining myself because thats what I didn’t do before right? So maybe if I explain myself now I can talk my way out of this. Maybe I can get my way. I gave up on having my way after a while. It was becoming too toxic. They, wanted to remain friends. Because how could this person live with themselves believing they caused me so much pain. That was their bandaid. I thought I could fix things by explaining my feelings. They thought they could fix it all by offering ”friendship”. Friendship at this point was an insult because how dare you love me so intensely and then take it away, and go on parading your new happy life in my face as if im supposed to congratulate you. Alhough this concept of going BACK to being “friends” was not something I wanted to do, for me to be the one to cut everything off and have them now heartbroken and upset didn’t sit right with me. So I stayed around. And I never took the time to look at the situation from any standpoint where I was not the victim.

I knew they were hurt, but no one was hurt more than me. No one had suffered more than me. No one had given more than me. No one was willing to sacrifice more than me. And I wore that as a badge of honor but thinking back, it was too little too late. It was hurt I caused myself. I sacrificed myself, and to what avail? No one asked me to. I was afraid of going back to crippling loneliness, feeling boxed in from other ppls expectations. They were afraid of the same. We went about it in two different ways and this is the truth I have to accept. He was not wrong. He was so afraid to hurt me anymore that he just played along hoping one day I would be better, while he continued to live his life. And I was MADDDD that he could try to live his life separate from me.

The moral of the story is, your feelings are valid. Your hurt, anger pain is valid. But sometimes the villain of the story is not them. Sometimes you are your own villain. Sometimes you cause your own mess and that still doesn’t make you a bad person.

Everybody has skeletons. No one is perfect. No one is above being judged. But that doesn’t mean you have to stop living your life for fear other ppl will not understand your motivation. Life is for the living.

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asweetprologue · 3 years

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Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again.

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings.

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily.

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates.

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic recs #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #witcher #fic recs #fic rec #I'm certain i missed a lot of good ones I've read over the years but I didn't want to risk making this super fucking long anyways #if you didn't see your name listed it isn't bc I don't adore you and your fics it's because i'm stupid <333

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kuroyorusimpdom · 2 years

Text

Harbinger

*Part 2*

Minors DNI | NSFW | Smut / Lemon |

Pairings: Aizawa Shouta x OC, Bakugou Katsuki x OC, Hitoshi Shinsou x OC

Dom/Sub, Pegging, Orgasm Denial, Aged up, Post Cannon

Word Count: 5.2K

[3:37am] Idiot (Sexy): Well, my relief came earlier than expected. You still awake, or should I head home?

[3:38am] Boom Boy: I’m up

[3:38am] Boom Boy: Get your fine ass over here so I can fucking ruin you

[3:41am] Idiot (Sexy): Pretty sure the terms were set baby, and though they did involve someone being ruined, I don’t believe it was meeee ;)

[3:42am] Boom Boy: I did not agree to any shitty terms

[3:43am] Idiot (Sexy): Guess I’ll be headed home then!

[3:43am] Idiot (Sexy): Have fun with your hand, big boy

[3:44am] Boom Boy: Fuck you

[3:47am] Boom Boy: Seriously Kai. Come over.

[3:50am] Boom Boy: Kaida, I’m not fucking around. You better be on your way here

[3:59am] Boom Boy: Fucking FINE. You win. Just come over.

[4:00am] Idiot (Sexy): Aw, okay boomy, I’ll see you soon. You better be ready for me, you know how much I like it when you’re all ready to go, like a good boy. {Read 4:01am}

Kaida smirked down at her phone, re-reading the string of messages between her and Bakugou while waiting for her train. Excitement flowed in her veins. It had been too long since they were last able to get together without the parade of idiots they considered friends.

It both was, and wasn’t a shock to the entire Bakusquad when you two started doing … whatever it is you’ve been doing for the past year.

There was always a vibe between the two of you. When the first semester at UA started, Kai was the only person who wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe with the angry gremlin. Sure at first it clearly pissed him off that he couldn’t use intimidation to get her to back down, but it didn’t take long for Bakugou to see Kaida was a solid adversary. Not equal, Bakugou would never believe anyone equal to him, but definitely more interesting than all the other “extras”.

Smartass quips back and forth soon turned to casual flirting (though everyone else would definitely not consider what the two of you did as ‘flirting’). Into second year there was a class pool on when the two of you would get over yourselves and just fuck already.

Through first year and into the beginning of second, the banter between the two of you continued.Kaida most definitely developed a bit of a crush on the brash and aggressive man, however due to Bakugou being emotionally stunted he had deemed anything not related to classes or training as a waste of time on his goal to getting to number 1, Kai included. This of course was when there was no one else that held any of her attention, so he didn’t have to think too hard about his decision to not allow their dynamic to move forward. That’s when Hitoshi Shinsou made his appearance in the hero course.

Of course Kai had seen Shinsou around the school a few times, and he was impressive to have made it to the final round in the sports festival the first year considering he was in general studies, however overall, Shinsou didn’t really capture much of her attention. This in part was because she spent any of her (very limited) free time with Bakugou. When Shinsou fully entered Kais raidar, it was a seismic event.

He was hot, mysterious, quiet and 100% Kaida’s usual type. In typical Kai fashion, she found one of the only other men who thought anything outside of Hero Studies was pointless. Despite his initial insistence that he didn’t need friendship (or any other kind of relationship) Shinsou didn’t actually remain resolute with his convictions. He realized slowly that the connection with others was a help, not a hindrance and Kaida was right there when that realization did come.

_______________________________________________________________________

Mina sat cross legged in the middle of the common room floor, pouring a new round of drinks for everyone while simultaneously ushering them into a circle with her

“Okay guys! We’re playing truth or dare! No backing out, the whole class has to be involved!! You can’t pick truth twice in a row, and if you don’t want to answer or complete the dare, you can drink, but you can’t drink twice in a row either so make sure it’s worth it if you opt out!”

Mina reached out and grabbed Bakugou’s arm as he tried to leave the room, grumbling about how he ‘wouldn’t be playing a stupid game with stupid extras’

“That means everyone Bakubro” She gave him a sharp glare and yanked him down next to her.

Kaida watched as the class gathered around in a circle, Iida (in typical Iida fashion) made several statements about how everyone must be responsible and act in a way befitting to their status, only to be shut down by several people booing him loudly.

“Okay, I’ll go first” Denki stood up, slurring slightly from the already consumed drinks.

“Jirou, truth or dare babyface”

“Dare, and also, gross” Jirou rolled her eyes at the blonde,

“I dare you to sit on the lap of the most attractive person in the room” as he spoke, a sly smirk appeared on his face as he dramatically cleared space on his lap for her.

Jirou stood up, and made her way over towards where Denki sat, he looked around the circle in triumph while she simultaneously spun around and sat directly on Momo who was just to his left.

A few snickers sounded as Jirou got comfortable in her new seat, “Aw, did you think I was going to sit on you sparky?”

“Not cool man, not cool” Kaminari’s face visibility fell and Jirou pouted towards him.

“Okay, my turn!” Jirou smiled and glanced around the circle “Bakugou, truth or dare?”

“Sure as fuck not a pussy, so if I have to play this stupid game I’ll obviosuly do a dare”

“Interesting, interesting” Jirou pressed her finger to her lips in thought as Momo leaned in and whispered something in her ear “oh shit, that’s perfect!” her smile widened “Okay Bakugou, I dare you to make out with Kaida, the sexual tension you two have been carrying around since last year is suffocating, and clearly you’re not going to do anything to make her your girl without divine intervention”

Kaida could feel her face heating up. It wasn’t untrue that they had been dancing around each other for the better part of first year in a ‘will they, won’t they’ dance, but she had finally FINALLY started to think about moving on when a lilac haired man made his way into her life.. That said, she certainly was not over her crush on the blonde, and she couldn’t help but anticipate the implication of this dare, maybe it would finally mean that Bakugou would come to terms with the fact that he also felt something towards her.. He wouldn't be able to deny it once the obvious chemistry between them was turned into a physical act.

“Fuck no, I ain’t kissing no shitty fucking extras and I don't want to waste my time with any shitty fucking girlfriend. Not fucking interested” Bakugou snarled “I’d rather drink this fucking disgusting drink than kiss anyone, especially HER” he punctuated his sentence by slamming back the beer that was resting in his hand.

“Jesus bro, that was not manly, not manly at all” Kirishima scolded Bakugou , while looking over at Kaida with a sympathetic smile

Every student sucked in a breath at the outburst from the blonde, glancing at Kaida who remained stone faced despite having her heart openly crushed in front of her entire class.

She refused to allow anyone ESPECIALLY Bakugou know how much that hurt. Any hopes she had of ever having anything with Bakugou were effectively out the window.

Kaida took an almost imperceptible breath in and turned to Bakugou with a blank face “your turn to ask now, let's keep the game going”

The entire group seemed to let out an audible exhale at Kaidas reaction.

Bakugou just stared forward, anger emanating from his large frame. “Deku, truth or dare you fucking nerd”

Deku looked up, a deer in headlights “u-uh……….. Truth” he squeeked out

“Fucking pussy” Bakugou chided. “Is it true that you’re a useless fucking nerd?”

Midoriya tilted his head slightly, looking down at his hands “u-um, I’m h-honestly not sure how t-to answer '' Ururaka gently placed her hand on top of Deku’s and whispered quickly in his ear. His entire face turned beet red as she leaned away from him, “I guess, n-no is the answer” .

Mina elbowed Bakugou hard in the side as Midoriya was answering, and a few people in the circle shook their heads at the blonde. Bakugou just rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath.

“U-um, Mina truth or dare” Midoriya quickly diverted the attention from himself to the pink haired girl across the circle.

“Truth!”

“Is it true that your boots on your hero costume are made specifically so that your acid doesn’t burn through them?” Midoriya asked, while pulling his hero notebook seemly out of nowhere to write her answer down

“What a waste of a turn Deku, I totally would have answered that for you anytime without needing to waste a precious truth question on me!! But Yes, most of my clothing has to be specially made to make sure I don’t have a serious wardrobe malfunction due to my acid” She answered while he hastily scribbled in his notebook.

“Now, let's get some dirt from the newbie!” Mina squealed “Shinsou this is your first game with us, I’m excited to see your playing style. Truth or dare?”

Hitoshi glanced over at Mina with what outwardly appeared to be little interest, “dare” his monotonous voice rang through the circle.

“Oooooh!!! I dare you to kiss the person you’re most likely to get with” Mina smiled in triumph, hoping that Shinsou wouldn’t chicken out of the dare like Bakugou had.

Shinsou glanced around the circle slowly, and stood up.

Kaida was mostly lost in herself, only putting on an outward appearance of being present in the game. She hadn’t paid any attention whatsoever to the last 3 rounds, and absolutely did not know what was currently happening as everyone else watched with bated breath when Shinsou walked around the circle. She only realized something was happening when a shadow was cast over her.

As Kai’s brain re-entered her body, she looked up to see who was standing in front of her. Her eyes had barely made it halfway up his legs when Shinsou bent down and grabbed her chin in his large hand, tilting her face up so her bright green eyes met his periwinkle ones. He leaned forward towards her, allowing his nose to brush along her own, “tell me now if you don’t want this” Shinsou whispered his hot breath trailing Kaidas lips as he brought his other hand to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her short black hair. His eyes moved from her lips, up to meet her own in question. Kaida reached her own hand up to his face, her thumb delicately tracing over his bottom lip, feeling the soft skin. Her tongue darted out of her mouth to wet her lips in anticipation and Shinsou’s eyes followed the motion. “I want this'' she whispered back, allowing herself to forget about the pain and embarrassment that Bakugou had put her through, and embrace this unexpected circumstance. The gentle admission from her was all it took for him to close the short distance between their lips in a searing kiss.

The world melted away from Kaida as she relaxed into the kiss, the hand that once caressed his face moved back to grab a handful of his soft hair as she pulled herself flush against him. His tongue tentatively met her lips,a silent request, which was swiftly granted. Their tongues fought for dominance, lips moving in tandem as the kiss deepened. His hand moved from her chin down to her waist as he squeezed gently. Kaida couldn’t hold in the gentle moan that his mouth quickly swallowed.

Wide eyes watched the pair for absolutely too long to be appropriate, no one being able to find their voice to remind them that they were in a room full of classmates.

It took the audible slamming of a door for the two to jump apart from each other, suddenly remembering their surroundings. Kaida blushed heavily while Shinsou simply leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss behind her ear and whispered gently

“Let's get out of here and find somewhere with less of an audience” his hand still on her hip guiding her to stand up.

The pair said nothing as they walked out of the common room in search of a more private location.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh. That was fucking hot” Mina was the first to speak up after 18 sets of eyes followed the two out of the room

“Not everyone seems to think so” Kirishima motioned to the empty spot where Bakugou had been previously seated

“Whatever, it’s his own fault he’s missing out on his chance with her. You heard what he said, it was pretty savage” Jirou shook her head as she shut down any pity Bakugou may have garnered from having to witness the kiss.

Kirishima looked sad “Bakubro just doesn’t know how to express his feelings..” he started “We all know he has feelings for Kai”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean she’s going to wait around for him to stop being an idiot, she’s hot and super talented, one of the strongest in the class. He shouldn’t assume she’ll always be around pining after him” Jirou looked down the hallway after Sinsou and Kiada “and it seems to me like he just lost his chance”.

______________________________________________________________________

Kaida and Hitoshi’s relationship burned hot after that night. After Kaida walked out of Shinsou’s room the following morning, they were officially a couple. They stayed together for the remainder of the time at UA, and even ended up at the same agency straight out of school. 4 years together, an apartment, 2 cats, and a plan for the future.

Unfortunately for Kaida, even the best laid plans can go awry.

Shortly after the pair celebrated their 4 year anniversary Kai started rising in the ranks despite her not being in the public eye. This created some friction in their relationship, Hitoshi hadn’t cracked the top 100, and rather than being happy for Kai’s success, he wallowed in his failure.

As the weeks passed by, Kai could feel Hitoshi pulling away from her. His usually stoic and emotionless demeanor held with everyone else started to become a regular at home. The small things that he used to do to show love to Kai all but disappeared, and all of his free time was spent ‘out’.

It got so bad that the pair didn’t see each other at all for 2 weeks. Shinsou had requested to switch to the day shift rather than working at night like they always had, it kept his evenings free to go out and not bother coming home. On the rare occasion that he did come home, he rolled in after 2am and went straight to bed, only to sleep in until he got up and left for work in the morning.

Kaida watched the slow deterioration of her relationship. Of course in the beginning she made efforts to fix the cracks, but it was clear that there was nothing she could do. His resentment over her success created such a chasmic rift between them. The rift allowed him to become jealous and possessive while at the same time completely pull away from her. He would lose his mind whenever she went out to her bi-weekly Bakusquad hangouts (something that had been happening regularly since graduation) and try to tell her that she shouldn’t be out with anyone who wasn’t him. In a few short months Hitoshi somehow became suffocating, yet completely absent.

The last straw was finding lipstick that did not belong to her on his capture weapon and hero uniform.

_______________________________________________________________________

Kai had been sitting in the same spot at the kitchen table in their shared apartment for several hours. Long enough for the bottle of wine she opened to be finished, and for the tears that had streaked her face to dry. It would have been in Shinsou’s best interest to show up earlier than 4am however luck was not on his side, and no longer was Kai sad, now she was just fucking mad.

The pregnant silence in the apartment was broken by the sound of a keys jingling and the door being unlocked.

Kai glanced at the clock on the stove

4:07am

Hitoshi removed his shoes and walked into the living room, Kaida’s eyes tracked him the entire way before speaking.

“What in the actual fuck Hitoshi” her tone was cold, her eyes displaying no emotion.

“Jesus christ Kai its late, why are you sitting at the kitchen table like a serial killer?” His eyes cut to her still form, sitting with her arms crossed over the table.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me” She remained still, only lifting a hand to gesture to the empty chair in front of her

He made his way to the chair and stood above it, taking in her calculating stare, “How would I know?”

“Well Hitoshi” This was the second time she had used his surname, something she had not done since second year in highschool “is there anything you need to tell me?”

He glanced toward the window, considering how to respond, “no, I don’t think so. Did I forget to pay a bill or something?” he glanced up at her briefly and their eyes locked

“Or something”

Kaida knew now that it was over. She gave him the out. The opportunity to come clean to her, to tell her it was a mistake, it was only one time, he still loved her, ANYTHING.

But he didn’t

He chose to stand in front of her, and lie.

She looked him dead in the eyes, searching desperately for a piece of the man she fell in love with. The man she had planned her future with.

“Last chance Hitoshi”

He didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he stood behind the chair at their table and said nothing.

Kaida stood up from the table slowly, sliding the packed bags out with her.

“What’s with the bags Kai?” Hitoshi glanced from her bags up to her face

Kaida kept the emotion from her face and answered him clearly and with confidence “I’m done Hitoshi. I’m leaving.”

This at least elicited some kind of response from him.

“What?” he asked, his mask of nonchalance slipped off his face as he stepped out from behind the table, reaching out to her for the first time in 3 weeks “What do you mean you’re leaving? Why would you leave? This is our home”.

“Don’t treat me like a fucking idiot” Kaidas tone was sharp, her words cutting, “You and I both know why I’m leaving, and we both know that this has not been a home in a long time” she picked up the bags in one hand and her jacket in the other “I will not stand around while you feel sorry for yourself and take it out on me Hitoshi.” she moved towards the door as she spoke, “I know my worth, and you’re going to realize very soon that nothing you find in a bar or hanging around waiting to have 5 minutes of fame with a hero” she stared into his eyes, the rage simmering beneath her skin, “nothing and no one you bring into your sad, miserable life will ever compare to me and what we had that you threw away”.

Hitoshi’s face fell.

The reality of what he had done hit him HARD in the face.

The months of pulling away from you, blaming you for your success, the desperate fans he used to make himself feel like he was worth something, every single night he spent away from home, away from you, it all came rushing to him at once.

“Please Kai, don’t go” His voice cracked

She was leaving.

His future was about to walk out the door and it was entirely his fault.

Hitoshi’s eyes followed Kaida as she reached the door, “ Please, I can fix this, I’m so sorry” his emotions swirled to the surface displaying on his face, “please give me the chance to fix this. You’re my future, I love you, I’ve always loved you” he stepped forward, towards the door “There will never be anyone like you, you’re all I want” his voice pleaded with her. He closed the remaining distance between them, arms outstretched, eyes full of sorrow.

Kaida’s hand raised to stop him before he reached where she was standing, “You really should have thought of all this before Hitoshi” Kai's hand fell on the door handle and twisted, “it’s too late now”

_______________________________________________________________________

Thank God for the Bakusquad. Mina took Kaida in and allowed her to stay at her modest 2 bedroom apartment until she figured out the next steps. A tearful Kai showing up on her front door at 5am with no plans and nowhere else to go.

It took the entire crew to go back to Kaida’s shared apartment and collect the rest of her things once she found a place. Hitoshi had been incessant in trying to ‘fix’ their relationship, and he was not something that Kai could face alone. Even a reluctant Bakugou came with them to collect her furniture and one of her cats (it only felt fair to each keep one since they were shared pets).

Thankfully due to her rising status as a hero, it wasn’t hard for Kai to move agencies to be further from Shinsou - ending up at Hawks Hero Agency as an underground hero working almost exclusively on covert missions.

After about a year away from Hitoshi and their failed relationship, Kai had settled herself into her new normal. A small one bedroom apartment overlooking the city, her cat Turtle and she even got a snake (because fuck Shinsou and his fear of snakes).

Kaida was strong. Her career was on the upswing, she loved her friends and honestly, she loved her life. Sure it took a while to get past the hurt of what had happened with Hitoshi, but now that she has, everything was great!

And she did not want a relationship. Relationships were for suckers. Been there fucking done that, and she would not be doing it again. But there’s only so much a vibrator can do.

As a hero the schedule Kai had to keep was hectic at best. Where does that leave any time for meeting people to hook up with? Plus, it seemed like anyone who showed any interest in her was only in it because they recognized her from the charts and wanted either the bragging rights of sleeping with a pro hero, or to try and snatch 5 minutes of fame by using her name. Neither was something that interested her in the slightest.

It didn’t take long for Kaida to bring up her “issue” at one of the squad nights. She was definitely not sober at the time.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Minaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” Kaida whined while throwing herself back into the booth with her friends, “Why does everyone suck so hard?”

“Who sucks?” Kirishima asked as he sipped his third beer of the night

“Yeah, want me to zap ‘em?” Denki chimed in, moving the umbrella from his drink aside so he could see Kai from across the table

Kaida giggled at his absolutely ridiculous drink and swayed into Bakugou who was next to her on the bench.

“Watch yourself ya fuckin’ idiot” Bakugou shoved back gently, while also making sure she didn’t fall off the seat and onto the floor.

“No zapping required Denks” Kai leaned her head on Bakugou’s shoulder much to his chagrin, “I just can’t deal with the suckfest of men” She moaned “Why is it so hard for an attractive able bodied woman to just find some casual sex!”

Bakugou choked on the drink he had been sipping, and Kirishima's eyes dart around the table refusing contact with anyone, his face reddening at the implication from his friend.

“Guys don’t be prudes” Mina pointed at the two men at the table being awkward

“Yeah guys, geez you’re acting like we aren’t all adults here” Denki added while turning his attention to Kaida, “Don’t worry baby, Daddy Denki is here now, I can help you out”

If looks could kill, the glare that Bakugou shot towards the electric blonde would have placed him in an early grave

“Shut it dunce face, like you could satisfy anyone” Bakugou snarled

Kai glanced between the two boys, too drunk to think clearly at this point in the evening, “You’re saying that like you can Bakubabe” she waggled her eyebrows up at him.

Bakugou glanced down towards her and smirked, “I’d fucking rock your world”

Mina looked between the two, recalling in the not so distant past that everyone was rooting for them to get together. Her smile widened, a mischievous look in her eye

“Why don’t we just hold a friendly little competition to see who’s better?” all eyes at the table turned to Mina as she spoke, “Kai, you kiss both Denki and Bakubro and tell us based on that kiss who would be a better lover”

Kaida’s eyebrows shot up as she looked from Mina to the two boys, neither one of them protesting

“Okay fine, c’mere sparky give me some sugar!” she motioned towards denki and puckered her lips

Bakugou’s eyes followed as the Blonde moved from his place at the table to come and stand in front of Kaida. Jealousy bloomed in his chest as he watched Kai’s arms wrap around Denki’s shoulders. He knew that his feelings from highschool hadn’t entirely receded, but until this moment he didn’t realize how strongly he still felt towards her. He watched as their lips pressed together, Denki’s tongue finding its way into Kaidas mouth.

A fairly quick and less than passionate kiss from Kai’s perspective seemed like an eternity to Bakugou. When they finally pulled away from each other Denki’s eyes were glazed over while Kai looked entirely unaffected.

“Alright Denks, that was cute” Kai gave his arm a gentle squeeze “but it was like kissing my brother which was fucking weird” she finished.

“Damn, don’t pull your punches or anything” Denki pouted at her as he made his way back to his seat and slouched down in it.

“Okay now time for you Bakubro, unless you’re afraid to lose?” Mina chided at the angry blonde, knowing he would never back down from a challenge

“Pft, yeah right, like I could lose to that glorified charging cable” Bakugou responded as he slid out of the booth to be face to face with Kaida.

He picked up his drink from the table and downed it in one shot, slamming the cup down and grabbing Kai by the back of the head and leaning in close

His voice dropping to a low baritone as he whispered against her lips, “I hope you’re ready sweet cheeks”

Kaida’s face bloomed with heat as she felt the warmth of his breath against her lips. She hadn’t really allowed herself to think of it much (since she was with Hitoshi for so long) but Bakugou was fucking hot. If he was attractive in high school, he would be like a Greek God now. He had grown several inches to make him about 6’3, and his broad shoulders were rippling with solid muscle. His face lost any of the childish wonder, and was now all sharp angles and harsh lines, only adding to the allure of him.

For the first time since high school, Kai was nervous about the prospect of kissing someone.

“Bring it on Boom boy” Kai whispered back, risking a glance up into his eyes only to find he was already staring down at her, an unreadable expression reflecting back at her.

He crashed his lips to hers and immediately fire engulfed her. The heat from the searing kiss only intensified as his tongue forced its way into her mouth. Kai’s hands grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer while he snaked his arms around her waist. Their tongues battled for dominance, neither gaining the upper hand.

During the clearly passionate exchange, Mina ushered the rest of the group out of the table and towards the bar under the pretense of refills.

Bakugou cut off the heated kiss, allowing his lips to dance across her jaw. His hot breath against the shell of her ear caused shivers down Kai’s back as heat bloomed between her legs. A harsh bite against her neck caused an involuntary moan to escape Kaida’s throat. Her hands sliding up from his chest to snake into his hair. Bakugou's mouth continued to trail south, finding her chest as he sucked and licked, leaving marks on his way down. Kai tugged on the roots of his hair eliciting a deep moan from the blonde. Kai used his hair to pull him back as she looked into his eyes, half lidded with lust.

Kaida’s pushed her lips against his again, a moan from Bakugou's throat was swallowed by her greedy mouth

“Lets leave” she whispered against his lips, trailing her hands down from his head and across his chest, leaving a scorching trail of heat.

She turned on her heel and walked towards the exit, Bakugou following behind her in anticipation.

_______________________________________________________________________

That was just over a year ago, and ever since the two of you have had this undefined relationship. You had sex whenever you could, and still hung out with the Bakusquad like normal. Everyone hounded the two of you in the beginning, trying to force Bakugou to define your situation, but Kaida made it very clear she was NOT interested in dating anyone. Bakugou mimicked that sentiment, once again stating that if he was going to be in the running for number 1 he wouldn't have time for a shitty girlfriend, but that certainly didn’t mean he didnt have time for sex.

It was a stress reliever for both of you, and honestly a great set up. Kai knew he was only sleeping with her, and vice versa. No one had to worry about catching something nasty, or trying to find someone to have casual sex with. It was perfect. No feelings, just sex.

And thank God he wasn’t some vanilla bitch in the bedroom. After years with Hitoshi who always wanted to ‘make love’ Kai was happy to be sleeping with someone who embodied the word ‘Fuck’. The sex was hard and passionate, and Bakugou was not against trying out new things and bringing toys into the mix.

Which is exactly why at the moment, Kai was in her apartment digging through her box of sex toys to find the perfect thing for tonight. It wasn’t often that Bakugou let her top, so she was going to make the most of it.

Pulling out her phone and snapping a picture of the strap she smiled and quickly sent it off as she walked out the front door of her apartment a convenient 5 minutes away from his.

[4:28am] Idiot (Sexy): Attached 1 image

[4:28am] Idiot (Sexy): You better be ready baby, I’m coming for you.

#bakugou x oc #katsuki bakugou #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #bnha aizawa #shouta aizawa x oc #aizawa x you #katsuki smut #bnha smut #bhna fanfiction #hitoshi shinso x y/n #shinsou smut #shinsou hitoshi x oc

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 3 years

Text

if I can never give you peace — one || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 6k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Minor Character Death, Guns, kind of dark in general

Previous · Next

The first gunshot takes everyone by surprise. Unsure glances are exchanged all around, “did you guys hear that”, and disbelief is clear as day on people’s faces. There’s no way this would happen here, right? People are mostly aware of the fact that they’re technically working for a mafia leader, but this is the legal side of the business, and this building is in the middle of the town’s business centre. This cannot be happening.

You stay perfectly still, immobile where you were standing. Out of all the people here, you’re the one who is the most involved in the questionable parts of the family’s activities. In fact, you were just about to go up to Mr. X’s floor to discuss said questionable things — in this case, the smuggling of a large cargo of weapons.

The gunshot is still ringing in your ears when it is followed by another one, and then possibly more, but you can’t hear them because chaos erupts all around you.

People get up, start running around, some towards the elevators, some towards the stairs. Your brain tells you those choices are probably bad. If those gunshots are for the Family — and who are you kidding, they are — then whoever is firing them is coming up.

“Don’t use the stairs,” you order, and some people stop to look at you, unsure of what to do. They trust your decisions, to a degree, but you doubt it’s enough in this situation. “They’re probably coming,” you explain, even if three of the employees have already slipped through the door and left, “and I don’t think you should be in front of the elevator when the door opens.”

Blood drains from people’s faces. Downstairs, there are more shots fired. A woman starts to cry. Your brain is going in overdrive, processing everything, trying to come up with the best decision, and yet it doesn’t feel like anything is actually registering.

“You should barricade yourself in a room,” you say. Your voice is eerily calm, even to your ears, and it feels strange to hear it. It’s like a curtain has fallen between you and the world around you. You understand that this situation is terrifying, that you should have a reaction that is not apathy. You just don’t. “I don’t think you’re the main targets here. I’ll be going up to see Mr. X.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” a man shouts. “You just want to leave us here to be canon fodder! You—”

He’s shut up by your bodyguard pulling out a gun of his own.

“I suggest you do what she’s saying,” he orders, voice deep and gravelly.

On top of being armed, Hector is a bear hybrid you hired about a year ago. He’s tall and large, very impressive physically, which is generally enough to discourage any kind of altercation. He’s also a calm and gentle person most of the time. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him hold the gun he carries.

“You should stay here with them,” you tell him. He send you a disconcerted look.

“Are you sure? Even if they’re not the target, you might be.”

The statement shouldn’t take you by surprise. It’s something you should have considered immediately, and it takes you a second to figure out why you haven’t. If you are a target, that means the attacker knows about the workings of the organization. That would mean that they’ve been planning this for a while, and that they’ve simply gone completely under your radar all this time. Which is a lot more worrying to you than anything else.

“Stay,” you insist. When this is over, it will be better if people here think you had their best interest at heart.

If you make it out, that is.

Hector ushers people inside a conference room, and you walk towards the stairs. From there, you hear gunshots better than you did earlier, and you wince at the sound. You’re not used to it. It’s strange, since you’ve been working for the Family for years now, but you’ve very rarely heard people firing guns. You’ve never even had a gun pulled on you. You’d like to think it’s because you’re too careful, or too smart to find yourself in those situations, but the truth is you’ve just never been in situations where that sort of things would happen.

Sure, someone could send a killer for you — they have, actually — and then the carefully crafted net of precautions you’ve woven around yourself would — did — stop them, but you don’t participate in drug deals and you’re rarely out in the street, and that’s where those things happen most of the time.

You glance down. You’re on the fifteenth floor, so you doubt the employees who ignored your warning have made it out yet. You doubt they will, to be honest.

Glancing up, you wonder if you’ll make it to the twentieth before someone catches up with you and, since it’s a useless thing to think about, you begin your ascension. You’re not the most in shape, most of your daily exercise consisting in walking from places to places. That is a lot of walking, and you can do it without getting breathless, but you never take the stairs. Soon, you’re panting, and you’re about to take a break after three floors when you hear new gunshots that make you freeze.

These were in the stairwell. They echo deafeningly, and, for the first time since this all started, fear actually grips you. You swallow, heart beating loudly, and you keep going. You hear some screams, down there, and the horrible sound of flesh — bodies — hitting the floor, and then nothing. You’re sure someone must be climbing up those stairs, but you can’t hear them at all, and that terrifies you. You have no idea how fast they are, how soon they’ll catch up with you, how—

You slam open the door to the last floor. The time is not to discretion, and anyway, whoever is down there is probably coming for the twentieth floor.

The second you walk out, three guns are pointed towards you, and someone is screaming at you to stay where you are. You obey, until Mr. X’s bodyguards identify you. You had told him that hiring hybrids would be a good idea, since they rely more on their heightened senses and tend to have better reflexes, but you’d been ignored, so you had just shrugged it off and followed your own advice.

“Mr. X is inside,” one of the men tells you, pointing at the door, but not moving to take you there. You walk by him, and they all keep their eyes firmly on the stairwell’s door. That makes you assume the elevators don’t work, otherwise they’d have part of their focus on there.

“Mr. X, do we have any idea what— Miss Xanders, I apologize, I hadn’t seen you there.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N),” Anna says. “We really have more important things to concern ourselves with.”

“Do we know who’s attacking us?” you ask, giving your attention back to Mr. Xanders.

Mr. Xanders is an old man, you feel that he was already an old man when you’d joined. He had Anna quite late, when he was nearing his fifties, and he recently celebrated his seventieth birthday. You would know, you organized the party.

He’s looked old for as long as you’ve worked for him, using a walking stick, small eyes hidden behind large glasses, skin marked with wrinkles. But there was always something sharp and smart, cunning, in his eyes. Despite everything, he felt dangerous, and you had never doubted that he was not a man to underestimate.

Right now, though, he looks tired. Exhausted. He’s staring at his laptop screen and shaking his head, utterly confused.

“I can’t recognize anyone,” he says, and your heart misses a beat. Not good, that’s not good at all. “Can you?”

You walk around the desk quickly, examining the view you get from various cameras placed all around the building, and your hands involuntarily clench into fists as you see how dire everything is. On several different floors, men with machine guns are walking around, and you know for a fact they’re not working for you. You can’t see what’s happened to your people in the low-resolution, but you can guess, and your stomach tightens at the thought.

“How is that possible?” you whisper. “How has no one intervened yet?”

You know the police isn’t too keen on coming here, but this is genuinely insane. The only explanation you can think of is that they’ve been paid-off, and again, you don’t know how you wouldn’t have heard about that.

“That’s not what I asked you,” Mr. X says harshly, and you wince, focusing again on the men on the screen. You scan the men again, quickly. Some are wearing masks, but a lot of them are brazenly showing their faces, and that is one more thing that is not good. They should want to make sure no one would recognize them. If they’re confident enough to do that…

“I don’t know them,” you whisper. Some look vaguely familiar, but you just can’t place it, so you’re sure they aren’t big names. You have definitely not been on the look-out for them.

“Dad, we should really go up to the helicopter,” Anna says urgently.

Mr. Xanders hesitates, then nods, getting up in a movement that is slow and clearly painful. You help him out without thinking much about it, holding his arm and giving him his walking stick.

“How will you do that? The elevators aren’t working and the stairs don’t go to the roof.”

“We’ll reactivate the elevators,” Anna explains with a shrug, and you stare at her in disbelief.

“That will mean those people will be able to move freely in the building. I don’t think—”

“They are already moving freely,” Mr. Xanders barks.

“Still—”

Then, a lot of things happen at the same time. You were standing in front of the elevator, Anna calling it with a special key, the bodyguards surrounding you, eyes and weapons still directed at the stairwell door.

The elevator opens with a ding. And the door slams open.

There are gunshots everywhere. You dive to the ground, or maybe you’re pushed down, you’re not too sure. You look up to see two men falling down around you, the third guard ushering Anna and her father in. You try to push yourself to your feet, but the door is already closing. You call out, you can’t hear your own voice, ears ringing from all the noise.

You meet Anna’s eyes, filled with indifference and a complete lack of remorse, and then the door is closed, and you know they’re gone.

And someone, someone who wanted them dead and just killed two men, is in this room with you.

Slowly, oh so slowly, you turn around. As you do, you feel your lower lip starting to tremble, and you sink your teeth into the flesh to stop it. You push yourself on your elbows, and your eyes fall on a man with bleached blonde hair pushed back with a bandana, a round face that makes him look younger than you suspect he is, and a mocking smirk. Once more, you’re struck by the fact that you don’t know him. He’s alone and he took out two trained guards, not to mention the people he must have killed to get there, and you have no clue who he is.

His eyes confuse you, at first, and then you realize it’s their color that is throwing you off, an unnatural yellow, and the slit of his pupils. He’s a hybrid, you understand, and you curse yourself for how slow your brain is at the moment. You don’t have time to wonder if he’s part cat or part snake before he takes a step towards you. Fear grips you, and you consider crawling back, but you force yourself to stay unmoving. You don’t let emotions control you. That’s not who you are.

Instead, you stare at him straight in the eyes, even as you feel tears well up in yours. You’ve never been afraid of death, and yet it seems that you can’t stop your body’s reaction as you understand that this is it. This is how you die, where you die, this is who kills you.

The man crouches down in front of you, and lifts his gun to press the barrel against your forehead. He looks at you like an animal playing with its food. The situation seems to be amusing to him, and you think he is waiting for you to beg. You have no intention of doing that.

“Just make it quick,” you say.

You don’t recognize your own voice. The man’s smile widens, revealing pearly white teeth and a set of fangs. Tears start to roll down your cheeks, and you’re completely unable to stop them. You don’t feel sad or afraid, you just feel empty, but the tears keep falling. Still, you hold the man’s gaze. You won’t beg for your life.

“What if I let you go?” he drawls, and you can’t help the way your eyes widen at the possibility. Then, he laughs, pleased by your reaction, and you’re horrified to find out that this had an effect on you. The treacherous hope you’d just felt makes the reality of your imminent death crushing. A sob escapes you before you can get yourself under control again.

“Please,” you whisper. “Just get it over with.”

A pout forms on his face, and he shrugs. Then, to your surprise, he removes the gun from your forehead. The next thing you feel is the grip of the weapon, violently connecting with your temple, and then you don’t feel anything at all, not even the floor when your head hits it in your fall.

You wake up to the sound of soft, muffled sobs. It takes you a few seconds to piece things together, your head throbbing painfully and your mind in shambles. You lift your head with a groan, trying to take in your surroundings. Your thoughts are slow and you hate it. It makes you feel so vulnerable and defenseless.

Of course, that gets worse when you realize your hands are tied behind your back. That sends a jolt of adrenaline through your body, and you manage to look around you. It seems like you are in some warehouse, which, in your experience, is not a good thing. That’s where executions happen. They’re places that are accident prone, so the presence of blood could be explained easily, and they aren’t inspected that often anyway.

There's another sob beside you, and when you turn to look where it’s coming from, you find Anna, not just tied up but gagged, tears streaming down her cheeks. You assume that means her and her father were caught before they made it to the helicopter. On the other side of her is Mr. X, who seems to be in the same situation as her.

I’m here to be killed, you think. You can’t see another explanation. Mr. X and Anna are definitely here for that reason, so if you’re there with them— it means you’re here to die. You hope it will be quick, like you had asked that man, but you doubt it. If they took you here, it’s probably because they intend to make an example out of you. Intellectually, you don’t blame them. If this is a takeover of the family, they’ll probably need all the intimidation power they can get to keep the situation under control. It’s a ballsy move, certainly, and you would be at least a little impressed if you weren’t thinking about the creative and painful ways they can choose to get rid of you.

“Is she awake?” a voice asks. You turn your head quickly, too quickly, and another groan escapes you as your head painfully reminds you of the blow you just took.

You meet the mocking eyes of the man who knocked you out, before he looks away from you, at a large man you don’t think you’ve seen before.

“He wants to see her.”

The man nods, and then he’s on you in just a few steps, roughly forcing you up, his grip tight around your arm. You groan again as he drags you through the warehouse, to a large black car. You have just the time to think that someone must not want to be seen, if they’re in that, before you’re pushed into it. You lose your balance and land on your knees, and that’s when legs appear in your field of vision. They’re clad in black suit trousers.

You slowly look up. First, you discover elbows resting on spread knees, tattooed hands joined between them. Then there’s an elegant white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, muscular shoulders, a strong jaw, an amused, mocking smile and—

Your mouth drops open. Today is definitely proving to be a trying day for your reputation of never expressing your emotions, no matter the situation.

“Jungkook?” you ask, in disbelief.

Because it’s him. There’s something harsher in his eyes, his hair is longer, dark locks falling down to his jaw, and he’s lost any remaining softness he still had two years ago, when you last saw him, but it’s definitely him. He looks confident, and he’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, clearly knowing that he’s in full control of the situation.

“Hey,” he says. “Wanna take a seat?”

He watches you struggle to get to your feet, something that turns out not to be that easy when your hands are tied behind your back, and doesn’t make a movement to help you. When you manage to sit opposite him, you’re still watching him like you’ve seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?”

You know you should be able to piece things together to get an answer now. The deferential tone the man had when he talked about him earlier, everything that happened since these first gunshots… In another situation, it would be obvious to you. But because it’s Jungkook, you can’t bring yourself to come to the natural conclusion.

Jungkook had an out. He could have left this world behind altogether. So why wouldn’t he?

“Come on, you’re supposed to be smart,” he says, mocking, and his smile is harsh and condescending. “I’m taking over for the Xanders family. I think that should have been pretty clear.”

There’s a moment of silence, a long moment, as he waits for it to sink in. He’s in no hurry.

“But why?”

He shrugs, lean back against the leather seat.

“Because I can. Don’t you wanna why you’re here?”

That… would be a good idea, actually, and you’re bothered by how long it took you to think about it. You’re also bothered by how you lost track of that the second you saw Jungkook. You blame it on the surprise and on the fact that you’ve known him since before you became as— you’d like to say ‘efficient’, but the right word is probably ‘emotionless’. Empty.

“Why am I here?” you ask, frowning. If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it outside. It could be that he just wants to gloat, but something tell you he has—

“I have an offer for you,” he says, and then he grins and reveals his teeth. “It’s my way of saying thanks for how generous you were when you gave me five minutes to save my life.”

His tone is so abrasive it almost makes you wince, but you’re already falling back into your normal self. ‘Offer’ is a good thing, it means negotiation, conversation, things you can do, things you’re good at, things you can focus on to block out everything else, like the pain in your head or the guilt that settles in when he describes your actions.

“What offer?”

The grin disappears. He doesn’t seem happy he didn’t get a reaction from you.

“Work for me.”

That… makes sense, you suppose.

“I’m taking over for Mr. X. You know everything around here, and some people say you’re the best there is at what you do.” Then he shrugs, and casually pulls out a gun that you think was tucked in his back pocket. “That, or join him out there. I’m not sure you’ll like the outcome for that though.”

Despite the obvious threat, you can’t help but seriously consider the offer. If there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that it’s not a good one. Even if he manages to replace Mr. X, you doubt all the people who work for him will obey him. Stabilizing the whole thing will be a titanic task, but that’s not even what worries you — you can appreciate a challenge. No, the issue is that if you switch your allegiance, people will remember it. You will make a lot of enemies, and that doesn’t even include the people who simply will not trust you because you used to work for someone else. It’s a poisoned gift, really, and you’re sure Jungkook knows it.

“How do you plan on making the families follow suit?” you ask with a frown.

He rolls his eyes.

“Do people ever tell you how boring you are?”

They do, actually.

“This is not the only coup happening today. Some people who have already agreed to work for me will get in power. And the others… will take some convincing, but I’m sure they’ll come around.” He gives you a joyless, aggressive smile.

You’re still focused on his first words. You were already so puzzled that you wouldn’t have heard about what’s going on today — about how Jungkook is back in town, about how he’s been planning an entire takeover — but this is on a whole other level.

“How did you do that?” you ask, and when he lifts an eyebrow, you know you didn’t manage to keep your surprise out of your voice.

“Which part?”

“How did I not hear about that? I mean, Mr. X could sneeze and I would have known about it. People couldn’t open speakeasies without getting approved by me first — and they tried more than once.”

Jungkook looks at you, and disbelief passes on his face. This is what gets you? You couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about anything earlier, now you seem barely affected by the fact that he was threatening to kill you, but that caught your interest. Not just that, but you almost look impressed.

Okay, maybe you’re not as boring as he’d said, but you sure are fucking weird.

“We can smell you,” he says, tapping his nose. “It’s not too hard to figure out who you’re in contact with. Just had to make sure to avoid them. There were a few close calls, but we took care of it.” Then he shrugs. “It wasn’t as hard as you think it was. You’re not as cautious around hybrids.”

You stare at him for a while. He starts picking at his suit, looking annoyed by the turn the situation has taken, and you think about what he said. He’s right, you realize. You fucked up here — badly. You should have taken hybrids’ senses into consideration. You’d like to tell yourself that you didn’t think about it because there were no hybrids in high places, in the organization, but that’s not a good excuse. You file the information in your brain. You’ll do better.

“I’ll do it,” you say, and Jungkook glances at you.

“What changed your mind?”

“I’m— curious, I suppose. I’d like to see where this thing is going.”

Jungkook considers taking back his offer. He didn’t know what he thought would happen, but he expected it to be more interesting than this. Instead, you sat there, face as stiff as ever, and now you’re talking about being curious, which sounds wildly out of character, if you ask him. Yoongi’s told him you cried when you thought he was about to kill him, but he doubts it right now. It doesn’t look like anything can get through that thick shell of yours — and even if it did, he doesn’t think there would be a lot underneath it.

But the thing is, he was telling the truth earlier, when he said you were rumored to be the best there was at your job, and Jungkook is nothing if not a perfectionist. He likes to surround himself with the best. Which, unfortunately, means you.

“Suga!” he shouts, opening the door.

The man with the slit pupils jumps in easily, and looks at you with a disapproving twist of his lips.

“I’m not killing her, am I?”

He sounds disappointed.

Jungkook shakes his head in response.

“That’s Suga,” he tells you, pointing at the man. “He’ll explain how we work to you.”

You nod.

“I think he should kill you,” Suga informs you off-handedly, dropping on the seat next to you. “I think you’ll betray us.”

“If she does, I’ll kill her, if she fucks up her job, I’ll kill her, ” Jungkook says, and you have no doubt he means it. “Consider this your five minutes. Let them go, and you won’t have another shot.”

“That’s fine by me,” you say evenly. Betrayal has never been an option for you. You had no loyalty towards Mr. X, but the threat over your family was too big to risk it. And now, with Jungkook— you guess you’ll have to wait and see. You don’t think you’ll betray him, but if things turn sour… You suppose you’re not above it.

Maybe it should worry you, how little you value your own life, but you brush it off quickly. Thinking about it too much could compromise the way you do your job, and you can’t have that.

“So,” Jungkook says, leaning back, eyes watching you carefully. “What do you suggest we do with the Xanders?”

Suga opens his mouth, but Jungkook lifts a hand, signaling that he wants your answer. You wonder if this is some kind of test.

“Killing them would be the best decision,” you say, somewhat reluctantly. You know your decisions in the past, your suggestions, have lead to the death of people, but you’ve rarely been so direct about it. Then again, death is part of the game, when you work this kind of job. Mr. Xanders is about as close to an actual monster as it gets. And Anna… Well, maybe Anna isn’t. You don’t like her, and you absolutely believe that she was happy to enjoy everything that came with what her father did, but she’s not him. Which is a low bar to clear.

“She’s not wrong,” Suga echoes, sounding annoyed.

“Letting them live would be seen as a proof of weakness and they would try to come back. It’s just— a bad idea.”

You can see Jungkook’s jaw tensing. Next to you, Suga starts to make his leg shake. You suppose he has the same kind of bad feeling you do.

“What if we kill Mr. X but not Anna?” he asks, and Suga groans. Jungkook rolls his eyes and develops. “Yoongi, we’re not taking over the legal part of the business. We can just— leave that to her, and not bother about it.”

“We’ll have to figure out something else to launder money,” you say, because that was the main point of that side of things, legal just in name really. That is not your biggest concern, though. “But if you kill her father and not her—”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Yoongi snaps. “She needs to die.”

He’s right. It’s just the smart thing to do.

“People here aren’t impressed by mercy,” you insist, and that’s when you realize you’ve lost that fight already. Jungkook knows it. There’s no way he doesn’t. He’s made his decision, even if it’s a bad one, and trying to change his mind is useless. So you’re quick to jump to the things that need to be done if he lets Anna live. “You need to get her to sign emancipation papers.”

Jungkook tenses suddenly at the suggestion and a low growl comes from his throat as he bares his teeth at you threateningly. Yoongi barely moves, but you see his hand settling on his hip, near his gun, which you guess serves as a reassuring gesture. The car fills with tension, and you swallow. You feel small and defenseless. It’s not that rare a sentiment, but you suddenly become extremely aware of the fact that you’re alone with them, hands still fucking tied behind your back, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do.

“Anna doesn’t own me,” Jungkook snarls.

“Legally she does,” you explain. You’re choosing your words carefully, making sure not to anger him any more, but you’re still staring right at him. “You may have forged an ID or something, but if she lives and she can prove she hasn’t freed you— the consequences will be bad.”

There is a second that feels like an eternity, Jungkook just staring at you, lips now in a tight line, before he shrugs and you can breathe again.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

Yoongi groans and sends you a furious glare that you don’t understand. You agreed with him. What did you do to deserve that?

“I’ll take care of Xanders,” Jungkook adds. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Can someone— Can someone untie me?” you ask as they’re moving towards the door.

Jungkook glances at you.

“We’ll see when we come back.”

A grin flashes on his lips when your lips twist into an offended expression, and then he jumps out of the car, followed by Yoongi, and leaves you alone in there.

Fuck.

What an asshole.

Jungkook walks towards his captives with long, confident strides. Yoongi is right behind him, of course, his shadow, the perfect killer. He may disapprove of Jungkook’s plan, if you can even call it that, and he sure doesn’t like how easily you dropped the topic, but he’s still loyal to him. If he fucks up, he’ll clean up after him.

Jungkook savors the moment when Anna’s eyes fall on him. He can tell she recognizes him immediately by the way they widen and how she tries to speak through her gag. It’s been years since the last time he saw her. Much longer than the last time he saw you, which leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s thought about this so much. A long time ago, he dreamt of her telling him she wanted him back, but over the years, it mostly turned into him finally taking revenge, and he intends to fully savor it now that it’s happening.

He removes the gag from her mouth, and takes an unhealthy pleasure from the way she sobs out, loud and desperate.

“Jungkook, Jungkook, baby, please, please…”

Jungkook only needs to glance at Yoongi for him to set her free, albeit after an annoyed roll of his eyes. The second he does, Anna falls from the chair, right into his arms. Jungkook knows that she’s only trying to save her life, doubts she’s thought of him for more than a split second since he’s disappeared, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to enjoy it.

“Hey baby,” he grins, and he watches as she winces when she sees his sharp teeth. Right, she didn’t see him after that.

Fuck. It’s been a long, long time. She really didn’t give a fuck about him, huh?

And yet he can’t kill her. And yet he knows her bright, pleading eyes, the light weight of her body, the curve of her neck by heart.

“I’m going to need you to do something for me,” he says, voice deep and eyes boring into hers.

She blinks.

“And if I do you won’t— you won’t kill me?”

Jungkook’s opinion of Anna is far less charitable than yours. He thinks she’s an opportunist, will do anything to preserve herself and, sure, she’s not personally involved in her father’s business, but she wouldn’t bat an eye if she was. She likes to play the innocent girl who’s horrified by what’s going on with her family, but she just isn’t. As simple as that.

“Nah. I won’t.”

It doesn’t take long before Anna is kneeling on the floor, writing down what Yoongi is dictating to her, reading from his phone. Jungkook could do it, knows the text by heart, learned it a long time ago when he still hoped for it, but he just stays there immobile instead, watching her at his mercy.

It’s not as nice as he’d imagined.

Finally, she hands him the piece of paper with trembling hands, a small smile forming on her lips as she thinks that her nightmare is over.

Jungkook takes it, reads it over, and nods. Then he pulls his gun out, and Anna’s smile vanishes. Jungkook thrives on her reaction, on the idea that he has complete power over her in that moment. It feels dark and twisted, but fuck, it also feels good.

“But I—”

He shoots and Anna yelps, protecting her ears in reflex.

It takes her a second to realize he wasn’t aiming at her, and relief washes over her, before she understands what it means. She turns around, slowly. And screams.

A clean shot, Jungkook decides, looking at Mr. X. The man had been glaring at him the entire time, and he doubts he would have groveled like Anna had. Now, his blood is splattered on the floor, head thrown back, mouth open, staring at the ceiling with empty, dead eyes. Jungkook doesn’t care when Anna runs to him, sobbing, calling for him, trying to shake him awake.

“We’re going,” Jungkook announces to Yoongi, who finally seems a little less angry with him.

He doesn’t look back at Anna as he walks away.

You rub your wrists, then your shoulders after Yoongi has cut you free. Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, just sits back in the luxurious car. You thought he would look content, happy with himself. He doesn’t.

When the car stops in front of your building, you’re not sure what to do. Part of you still can’t believe he’s letting you live.

“We’ll come and get you tomorrow to get things started,” Jungkook informs you while staring out the window. “You know, you probably should have moved two years ago,” he adds, and for some reason, that really rubs you the wrong way.

“I changed the locks,” you answer, and he grins.

“You still haven’t figured out how I did it, right?”

You frown. You haven’t.

He looks genuinely pleased by that.

“What should I call you?” you ask. “Do you want to be the new Mr. X?”

He growls at the suggestion, but seriously thinks about your question.

“Call me— Call me Mr. Jeon,” he decides spontaneously, without explaining his decision, and you nod. This should help make things more professional, isn’t if this isn’t actually a professional setting.

“Fine, Mr. Jeon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’re pleased to find that your voice is back to normal, calm and even, not letting anyone know of whatever you’re feeling.

Except Jungkook and Yoongi can probably hear how fast your heart is still beating, but that’s a problem you’ll have to deal with some other time.

You step out, and linger there a second too long, the door open. Finally, you gather the courage to turn around and look at Jungkook.

“Why are you back?”

You mean a lot by that. In the city, sure, but also in that setting. You’d always thought— you’d always thought Jungkook was better than that. You’d always thought he should get the opportunity to get away and he’d be fine. That’s something you can’t shake away, can’t push under the rug.

He couldn’t escape.

He stares at you blankly.

“Where else am I supposed to go?”

Then he leans in and closes the door, and you’re left alone on the pavement.

Tagging list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #hybrid jungkook #bts mafia au #bts hybrid au #can you tell that jungkook isn't okay?#jungkook isn't okay #hope you'll like it!#candywrites

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todoscript · 4 years

Note

prompt 100, todoroki, smut? first time/confession?

Always You.

Prompt | “All I know is that if you don’t tell me to stop I’m going to kiss you.”

Genre | SMUT. Fluff.

Pairing | Todoroki Shouto x Fem!Reader

Words | 5.2K+

Warnings | 18+. Smut. Oral. Penetration. Semi-public sex. Body worship. Characters are aged up. Feelings Revealed. Cuddling.

Summary | Hearing your troubled thoughts about the daunting future ahead of you, Shouto finally realizes what you meant to him all this time.

A/N | I’ve been wanting to dabble with smut, so thank you Anon for this request (also I’m assuming you requested the prompt based on this list from my past drabble event). This is my first time posting e/xplicit content so beware of all the warnings. Other than that, please let me know your thoughts!

Big thank you to @sadistiks and @shoutogepi for beta reading! I really appreciate it! <3

For the longest time, since the very first year of his high school journey to becoming a hero, Todoroki Shouto knew that you were special to him. But he didn’t realize what these emotions meant.

At first, the feelings bombarded his thoughts like a haze—a screen of smoke he couldn’t see past. He initially discerned it as an affliction down his path, blocking his sight from the light at the end of his heroic odyssey. Yet even when he waved the murk away, he felt your spirit was still somehow manifested within him.

The darkness of the dim first floor greeted him when he arrived down from the elevator, the agony of no sleep pestering mind. The light shuddered back inside as he stepped out, a ding echoing throughout the quiet atmosphere that was the dead of the night. He trekked down the halls, past the kitchen, and into the common space where only a single flicker of candlelight met his vision.

However, when he approached closer, he noticed the fire wasn’t alone. There you were, sat on the couch with warm, soothing tea nestled in your hands.

“Y/n,” he called out, and you heard his voice quickly in the silence. You turned around, knowing well it was Shouto from the distinct husk in his tone and not your teacher Aizawa coming to reproach you for still being up so late.

“Oh Shouto, couldn’t sleep either?” you asked. He replied with a nod, which compelled you to pat the cushions on the couch. He took your offer and established himself into the light, sitting next to you.

For a moment, a gentle lull instilled itself into the atmosphere. You didn’t say anything to each other, but your presences were enough to soothe the strain in your bodies and release any disturbing thoughts plaguing your minds. It was an unspoken form of affirmation between you two that Shouto was oddly fond of. When you perched your cup of tea onto the coffee table, you finally cut the silence.

“I’ve been… thinking…” Your words drifted off, and Shouto removed his sight from the candle’s dancing fire to turn to you.

“About?” He poked the remark further.

“Our class. Our journey to becoming heroes,” you answered, folding your legs into you on the couch with your chin propped against your knees. “Soon, it’ll all be over.”

Your words lingered with distraught at the thought that within a few months left in your third year, the next step in your path will open forward, leaving a curtain to draw close on the current one you’ve walked upon for nearly three years now. It was unsettling. Realizing the habits you’ve established, and the faces you’ve been accustomed to throughout each day, will suddenly vanish within the instant you approached life after high school. It scared you as much as it did the boy by your side, which to him was strange.

It shouldn’t bother him as much. He’s worked himself up since he was a child, grinding sweat and rigor through his bones to achieve this goal. He’s known across his entire life that he’d eventually end up at this point and move further toward that dream of becoming a Pro Hero. Yet when you addressed the troubling notions out loud, he grew conflicted.

“That’s right. We’ll be walking on our different paths after,” Shouto said. It was then he realized the weight amassed in that single statement. That once the year is over, you won’t be ingrained into each other’s lives anymore. He wouldn’t get to see your smiling face greeting him every morning or engage in the compelling conversations you enacted between classes. His life would be different from then on out, and the idea of the emptiness carved into it after your departure left an ache in him, making him hollow.

“A-Are you ready for it? To move on and leave everything behind?” you stuttered as if anxious to receive his answer. Deep down, you wanted to believe the boy still desired to hang onto the present and the relationships woven into this fabric of time, rather than cut them off and start a new seam. However, you could not forget about his achievements and hard work, forged through sheer will and determination. He was amongst the top in your entire year, and you couldn’t neglect that he was destined for bigger and better things after. It would be selfish of you to anchor him down with these chilling notions of yours.

Yet as Shouto thought over the questions, he envisioned his trudge down this long winding road, and then remembered everything. He remembered all the times his eyes lingered on you, and the silent, reassuring exchanges you sent each other between infinitesimal moments. He remembered all the words you spoke to him when his spirits were down, recalling whenever he willingly sought out your presence just to be near you—next to you. And he remembered the heat on his body and the confliction he dealt with whenever he craved your touch as every thought of you ignited a blaze he wished you could douse out, lest his sense of reason be incinerated.

It’s when he reached the end of this path, and the light peaked in its brightest form that he ultimately realized. The light was you. It was always you from the beginning. You were never the haze obscuring his journey, but the luminosity that guided his way, showing him to who he truly was and helping him experience all the joys on this path.

Shouto snuck a glance over to you while your eyes still lined downward at the quivering reflection of the cup of chamomile tea next to the candle. The single light source illuminated every crest beautified on your face, and he beheld the vulnerability within the moment as if you were the only thing on this earth. You made him happy and filled that void in his existence that plagued him before he arrived at U.A., like the missing piece of an incomplete puzzle. He could not fathom the world around him without you.

Shouto breathed a heavy sigh from his lips. Despite your doubt and suspense, his answer felt all too obvious to him.

“No, I don’t think I’m ready to move on just yet,” he conclusively admitted. When you perceived his answer, you loosened your legs clutched to your chest, and met his eyes with an astonished expression.

“Shouto, what are you saying?” You tried to urge him to rethink his words again, understand what they meant. Shouto, out of the majority of everyone in your year, should be more than prepared for the future to come. You’ve known the boy so closely throughout your three years together, but you couldn’t discern whatever could be troubling his mind for him to be afraid of taking that leap forward.

“There’s… something in this life that I’m not willing to let go of yet,” he cast his gaze to the small flit of the candle before shifting it to the glow of your irises. His hands reached out and entwined with yours, and the comforting touch of your warm skin gave him the fortitude to continue.

“You. I don’t think I’m ready to leave you yet, Y/n,” he told you, and in the quiet, the words nearly echo through your mind. Initially, you’re speechless at the confession, but you don’t pull away. In fact, you gripped his hands tighter, like maybe the Shouto in front of you was a mirage conjured by your lack of sleep. However, he’s real. The unwavering stare, the altering sensations clasped against his calloused palms, the resolute composure on his handsome features. They were all real.

“Sh-Shouto… I—”

“I realized what you meant to me. You’re always on my mind because you’re the one thing in this life I can’t go without, the one person I won’t and can’t move on from.” Though a man of few words, he mustered the strength to utter this unyielding declaration.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n,” he imparted the words he’s been meaning to tell you—the words that finally answered the confusion he felt all this time and lifted the veil that clouded him.

Your eyes shimmered, hearing the heart behind his affirmation. Your face shifted from a mien of confliction to one of acceptance, allowing yourself to wholeheartedly welcome the emotions he finally unshackled from the depths of his soul.

“Shouto, I… I love you. I think deep down, I’ve always felt the same, I just never knew if it was right for us to be together,” you said, and it obliged him to return an enlightened look while he slowly inched closer.

“But… What does this mean from here on out?” you tried to ask through a whisper, but the ceasing proximity between you two blanks your mind to only the attention of Shouto’s face drawing near, his cold breath tickling your lips.

“I don’t know. All I know is that if you don’t tell me to stop, I’m going to kiss you,” he warned yet didn’t stop to pause as his eager lips finally met yours in a searing sensation of emotions. Your mind adjusted to the caress of his lips, soon melding perfectly into his with a simple tilt of your head.

Shouto brought a hand up to hold your jaw while his other gripped underneath your thigh to adjust your position, now straddling him on the couch to allow your bodies to press together intimately. Naturally, your arms found their way around his neck while you continued mingling your lips for kiss after kiss in the empty common space, tongues dancing together. He palmed at every inch of your skin, traveling from the expanse of your naked legs to your ass, and then up to your clothed breasts. Through these motions, you grounded yourself against him and felt the growing shape beneath his sweatpants form against your covered cunt.

Your lips detached for a second. You stared into the evident lustful haze fogged in his fraternal twin irises, a playful grin on your swollen lips. “Are you sure all you want to do is kiss?”

He mirrored your smirk, hands lightly grazing your thighs teasingly. “Not even close, love.”

Hearing the endearing name caused a heat to pool in your lower-half, which continued to grow desperately hot while he embarked his mouth on a journey across the expanse of your neck. You winced at the array of fervent kisses left in his wake and noticed his hands busied themselves by rubbing circles against your torso to your hips underneath your sleeping clothes. He brushed up against your breasts, unrestricted due to an absence of a bra. His touch felt like fire, and sent you into dizzying desire. It wasn’t long until he finally tugged on the hem of your shirt. Taking the hint, you moved your arms up to allow him to pull the article of clothing off.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he muttered and wasted no time in admiring your bare upper body, tossing your shirt to the side. Though he only spoke of beautifying praises, he noticed your hesitance when you hovered your arms in front of him, cheeks growing vividly hot. At this, he took your hands in his and moved them away from obscuring the beautiful sight before his adamant, loving gaze.

“I mean it. You’re the prettiest thing on this earth, Y/n,” he assured, planting a kiss against each of your palms then settling them on his shoulders.

“And I’m going to make sure—” His words paused as his mouth attached to your skin once more.

“That your beautiful body—” He molded his lips against the underside of one mound, traveling upward.

“Knows all the things—” it eventually made its way to your nip that shivered and hardened through the exposure to the cold air, “I’ll be doing to it.”

Hearing those sensual words leave the mouth of a man usually so composed and calm made your mind scatter in a hazy daze that drenched you from your panties to the thin material of your shorts, undoubtedly wetting his sweatpants in the process.

“Mm… Ahh…” you breathed out a sigh of moans next to his ear thanks to his methodical movements, which sounded like a melody he would repeat over and over in his head for years to come. One of his large hands slipped behind you down your shorts to grip your ass, ignoring the clothing, and the other wandered to your breast that wasn’t occupied by the heated presses of his mouth. You tried to keep yourself anchored to reality and not drift off in the hot air of lust by gripping behind his head and weaving your fingers in his dual-colored tresses. Unknowingly, you pressed him further into you, and he gladly continued to indulge in his simulations.

Eventually, he parted from your body to sit back and admire his handy work, which were the marks adorned on your skin and the needy look on your face left in his wake. The glimmer of the candlelight behind you accentuated the outline of your figure, and he wanted to ingrain this pretty image into his head so badly.

“Sh-Shouto…” you whined, and his eyes perked up.

“What is it, love?” he asked, though his hands continued caressing your waist and thighs almost tauntingly, discerning the desire in your voice.

“I want…”

“Want what?” he pried on.

“You know what I want...” You bashfully eyed down his lap, fingers tracing below his shirt to the waistband of his pants, tugging.

“Hm, do I?” he jeered, and you cursed at how he dragged out your desires while falling further into his mischief from the way he resumed stroking the fever of your skin.

“Yes, you do,” you ground against his erection once more, hoping to spark a reaction. And in the end, you received one in the form of his hands gripping your hips to still your movements.

“Fuck…” His brows narrowed tightly together from the shift that caused blood to spike through his cock. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want, love—what you need,” he finally assured, softly touching your cheek with the back of his hand before planting a peck.

“But first, I want a taste. Hands on the couch,” he ordered in the husky timbre of his voice, and you didn’t disobey, lest he draw out your pleasure toward a nerve-wracking pace your body couldn’t handle anymore. You moved off his lap and crawled to the furthest end to perch yourself against the couch’s arm, knees on the cushions, and bottoms faced toward Shouto.

He awarded your immediate compliance with his hands, dragging themselves down the skin of your back and descending toward the waistband of your shorts. However, to your chagrin, he only pulled off the first layer.

His eyes beheld the color of red while he jerked the clothing down your thighs, now met and widened at the sight of your rose-hued panties. He watched as you slowly turned your head to catch his amorous expression, the man kneeled behind you from the view of your ass emphasized by the flimsy, lace fabric. He admired how you glowed from the candle, and how the moonlight filtered through the windows of the common room, cascaded on the expanse of skin the firelight couldn’t reach, while your body was arched, ready, and willing for his and his eyes only. If you were a goddess, he’d worship you and visit your shrine for the rest of his life. No, scratch that, in Shouto’s eyes, no goddess or deity could ever compare to you.

“God, how is everything about you so perfect…” he breathed out, tone laced in utter affection. Your face blossomed crimson from his praises.

The candle at his side still offered him enough light to see the evident damp spot on the crotch of your panties. When he pulled them down, your slick strung from the lacey material to your lower glistening lips, which made him release a strained groan. You helped him remove the tainted articles of clothing by lifting your knees as he slid them down your legs, letting them pile in a heap on the floor.

“Even your pussy’s pretty…” he spoke the obscene words like they were second nature, but you couldn’t conjure anything in reply except a whimper when he dragged his fingers across your sex. He smeared your wetness on his fingertips, not even offering their full length into your heat.

“F-Fuck… please,” you begged, fidgeting in your spot to usher him to do anything more to stop the ache in your body.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, leaning over you and tossing your hair to the side to smother kisses on the nape of your neck. He then trailed his mouth down your back at an agonizing pace while his fingers continued to toy with your wet cunt using touches that could never climb you to the peak of your high. Soon his lips arrived at your asscheek, melding the smooches against your flesh while he dipped toward his desired destination.

Shouto leveled his gaze to your ass, grasping it firmly in his hands and spreading you open. The scent of your arousal invaded his senses. Your exposure to his intimate eyes made your cunt twitch in front of him, slick gathering and sticking to your thighs.

“Mm, so so pretty...”

However, as much as he wanted to dive right in and drink all your nectar, your cute whimpers drove him to tease you once more, only granting you the sensations of his breath fanned on your dripping sex.

“Baby, what do you want?” You couldn’t believe he had the nerve to ask. Still, you played along, albeit not nearly as patient as the man behind you.

“Y-Your mouth,” you answered, and you felt the thin smirk on his lips when he kissed your ass one last time.

“A nice answer,” is all he muttered before his tongue finally reached your aching entrance. He licked around you, his hold on your flesh tightened to bare your pussy to his entering appendage. At the feeling of his muscle along your silky walls, your nails started digging into the arm of the green couch, voice singing out unhinged.

“Careful, love, everyone’s still sleeping. We wouldn’t want them to hear now, would we?” he warned when he detached from your sex, yet was quick to dive in again. Clasping your hand over your mouth to mute the airy noises emitting from your lips, you remembered where you were—in an open and publicly used space. It especially became very apparent when the squelch of his mouth against you reverberated in the vast, empty area due to Shouto becoming a man unshackled by his passionate desires for the woman he loved. The last thing you wanted was for the boys on the second floor to wake up. Or worse, accidentally alert Mr. Aizawa.

As Shouto continued tasting your cunt, the heat coursing through your body was slowly boiling and longing to burst, your mewls edging to heavy moans past your hand. When your pussy started grappling around his tongue, he realized you inched closer and closer to release.

“Are you going to cum for me? Soak my tongue with everything you got?”

You hissed a squeal of a yes, along with a speedy succession of nods that was enough of a response for Shouto to help you reach your high. His motions transcended faster, and he added to the revelry by inserting a long finger into you, easily touching the particular spongy area inside that made you quiver. The overflowing sensations hollowed the sounds in your throat to mere hoarse throes of pleasure. His bind on your flesh grew firmer, like his feast on your cunt was the ambrosia he needed to revitalize his body.

“Ah, f-fuck Shouto, I’m— I’m—”

“Do it, baby. Cum all over my face.”

The weighty lust in his words was the last fuel you needed to attain your peak. At last, your sex clenched across Shouto’s tongue, covering his mouth in your juices as your screams were suppressed against the couch arm you buried your face into, knowing your hand was too weak of a barrier to contain your loud, wanton cries. With you soon becoming limp due to the mind-blowing orgasm that coursed your body, you braced yourself on the couch’s arm. Turning your head, you observed the glistened sheen covering the lower half of Shouto’s face that he earnestly licked and then rubbed against his forearm. The heady sight resulted in your body growing hot and bothered all over again.

“Mm, you taste so delicious, love,” he told you before he eased forward across your form and captured your mouth for another searing kiss that allowed you to taste your flavor on his tongue. Shouto’s arms readily wove around your naked body, positioning you to lay comfortably flat beneath him on the couch while never leaving the fervid lip-lock. You hung an arm over his back, and a hand settled into his hair.

“Ah.. wait,” you managed to voice between the wistful union of your tongues, letting Shouto lean his forehead against yours to peer into your eyes.

“What is it?”

“You’ve been doing all the work tonight. The least I should do to repay you is give you some pleasure, right?” you said, attempting to reach lower toward the bulge keen on his sweats. Yet Shouto halted you with a quick hand on your wrist.

“It’s alright, Y/n. I want to use this night to appreciate and love you,” he stated, bringing your hand to his lips as his gaze never moved from yours. “And besides, we can do that next time.”

Next time? You wordlessly repeated the phrase, mind trying to fathom what this passionate night would spark in the aftermath for you two.

Even with everything ahead of him, he still desired to be with you—to love and cherish you. Now that you’ve both admitted to the feelings concealed within yourselves for so long, there wasn’t any way Shouto could just let you go. One way or another, he’d carve another path down his odyssey where you two would walk together, and he could forever bask in your light.

But for now, he needed to tend to you and satiate his lust that has thoroughly built up throughout the heaty progression of the night, his cock painfully taut in the bounds of his clothing. At last, he granted his body the small bit of freedom it craved by removing his shirt and sweatpants, leaving his skin bare to the air like yours. Raking your eyes over his form scrupulously, you bit into your lower lip at the expanse of firm muscle lining every inch of his frame. The light beside you seemed only to enhance every marbled crest delved across his features. Those three years of fierce hero training committed wonders on his body, and you were eager to put your hands all over him.

However, your mind was blanketed into a haze when he pulled down his briefs—soiled by a blotch of his precum—allotting you with an unhindered view of his cock standing to attention. Shouto lowly chuckled, noticing the speechless expression taking over your face. His hand wholly stroked his stout manhood.

“Like what you see, baby?”

Your response is reduced to a quick nod, still dumbstruck by the length of his dick and generous girth when knowing he was soon to be inside you in mere moments. Shouto took his position in front of you again. He spread you out with as much room as the green couch of the common room could offer you two. You kept resonating out whimpers from your lips, and he reveled in those sounds while preparing to align himself to your entrance, his eyes fogged with unrivaled yearning for you. To say he’s dreamt of this day—where you’re hot, needy, and naked in the wake of his lustful desires—would be an understatement. No kind of imagination could beat the real thing, with the genuine noises you produced and the way your slick felt against the head of cock as he slowly pushed himself forward. Watching each inch of his dick gradually slide inside and experiencing the tightness of him and his love coming together did many things to him. The sensation was beyond incredible.

“Mm! Fuck!” you cried out in a whisper of a yell, immediately anchoring yourself by wrapping your arms around him when he lowered his upper-body to you. The stretch of his girth induced a pleasurable burn in your stomach that threatened to seize your entire being.

“Argh… Love, I’m right here— Fuck, you’re so tight—” he cursed at your warmth firmly enveloping his cock, struggling not to let the heat of the moment devour his reasoning and just plow away at your body. No, he needed to go slow and not hurt you, let you adjust to his size. Thankfully the wetness simulated when he ate you out aided the process, and soon his entire length was sheathed inside you.

You laid there trembling over the deep sensation, but the pain managed to diffuse quickly. “I-It’s OK… I’m alright now,” you murmured to him, the circles he rubbed into your skin soothing a bit of the tension harrowed in your body. You tilted your head so your lips were sheer centimeters from his ear, whispering out in a soft, heady tone that was breaking his rationale.

“Please fuck me.”

That was all he needed to begin his hard succession of thrusts. His cock felt along all the crevices of your walls. He grunted out praises and affections for you in between each drive into your core. Fuck, every part of you was like heaven and he wanted—no—needed to indulge in all you could give him. You struggled to find your words, voice hoarse and diminished to frail moans that he heard every trace of from the proximity between you, practically instilling the harmonies into his mind.

“I love you, Y/n, fuck I love you so much.” His bewitching utterances spilled from his lips without a second thought for all he’s thinking about is you.

“You were always the light that— ah— guided me... Always the one I could come to…” His thrusts continued relentlessly even as he bent toward your neck to meld his mouth on it for a second. “You were always the one, Y/n. It was always you.”

At all his love rained down upon you, your grip on his body grew tighter while you attempted to muster out some coherent words, despite each deep impulse of his cock making you envision stars.

“Mm, ah, l-love you too— Mmph—” You cut off with a scream that was luckily muted by Shouto joining his mouth to yours the moment he reached your pleasurable spongy area again. He continued his onslaught in that spot, knowing it was the erogenous zone in your body that made you writhe and shriek for him. White began to shroud your sight every time he pounded there. It wouldn’t be long until the simmer you built to a boil would be ready to burst again, your pussy starting to clench around his length desperately.

“Shouto, I’m gonna c-cum..!”

“Fuck, me too,” he replied to your frantic pleas and savored the sting of your nails raked down his back, tightening his hold on your spread legs. “Together, baby. Cum with me.”

With you both teetered toward the edge of release, he began pistoning his hips forward at an unbridled pace, the smack of your skins echoing so vividly in the space. Spit gathered in the back of your throat as Shouto did his very best to snatch every mewl and moan resounding from your lips. The noises vibrated across his tongue while he groaned back, thrusting forward in each succession. Eventually, the final scream tore from your throat, ripping into his mouth. Your body convulsed in a fit of overwhelming pleasure across every nerve and your intense orgasm was the catalyst he needed to cum.

In a single deep, quick thrust following your peak, his climax surged through him, and he came undone. A low grunt reverberated in him as he buried himself in you and coated your walls in hot spurts of white, the lip-lock remaining fervent throughout his orgasm and his hand seeking yours at the last minute to twine together in love and passion.

Through the whirlwind of your fucking, the candle on the coffee table eventually blew itself out while you both came down from your highs with ragged breaths and sweaty bodies. Shouto lovingly kissed your temple, caressing down your sides in calming motions. You returned the gesture by pecking his chest and rubbing the muscles of his broad back. The two of you simply laid there, tangled together, basked in the glow from the intensity, with nothing but the glimmering moonlight descending your naked bodies.

“Mm, Shouto?” your voice is only a hushed murmur in the tranquil atmosphere.

“What is it, love?” His caring touch did not cease when he whispered a question back, eyes pinpointing your own despite the darkness.

“As much as I just want to lay here and cuddle with you, we can’t stay here mister,” you admonished, thankful that you recalled where you were before you ended up drifting off into sleep on this couch. It would be an absolute nightmare had you awoke the next morning from the screams of your classmates at the sight of you both naked.

He let out a deep chuckle, likely conjuring the same thought as you though not acting nearly as frantic as he should be. He lifted his upper body off the cushions. “Shall we go to my room then?”

You nodded. At that you both gathered your clothes that were thrown carelessly in heaps on the floor and got dressed. You made sure no suspicious traces of you remained, then silently took to the elevators to ascend to the fifth floor.

It’s in the confines of Shouto’s room that you reunited your bodies again underneath the comfortable blankets of his futon. His left side provided just the right amount of warmth to lull your nerves. You relished in his particular musky scent with him so close and being surrounded by all his familiarities, cuddling into him.

Perceiving the rhythm of your even breaths against him imbued Shouto with a sense of peace. He couldn’t help but pull you toward him to softly kiss your forehead. At the tickling sensation, you giggled and exchanged a delicate kiss of your own on his jawline. For a brief period of time, that calming silence you two were far too familiar with enveloped the mood as you wordlessly traded placid touches across each other’s arms and backs. Ultimately, the quiet is interrupted when you speak up.

“Are you.. still scared about the future?” You brought back the query that set off the steamy chain of events. Shouto didn’t speak for a moment, inhaling a breath until you indicated his resolution through his hold on you growing stronger.

“No. No, I’m not scared,” he told you, continuing without a single hint of uncertainty in his voice, “Because even when we move onto the future, we’ll find each other again. You’re my light, Y/n, and I’ll always come back to you.”

At his conviction, you finally let the weight of those harrowing notions lift themselves from your body that night, letting you sleep soundlessly in the arms of the man you loved.

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