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iznsfw · 2 years ago

Note

Tutor eunbi where she rewards you increasingly everytime you get an answer correct starting from clothed groping and ending up with creampie

(inspired by a jav that uhhh... my friend saw definitely not me)

[KWON-0927] "P-please be gentle!" Busty School Tutor Whimpers Cutely As You Go Down On Her Curvy Figure After A Rough Revising And Has Her Sensitive Nipples Played With! Never Gonna Fail An Exam Again!

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 1 - Kwon Eunbi

First Part of Dulce Periculum | Next Part

IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

8,131 words

Categories | tutor!Eunbi, uniform sex, rough sex, nipple play, corruption, titjob, mating press, tit play, fingering, creampie, squirting

Start of Iz*Mas! This is my EIGHTEENTH Eunbi fic. Me writing too much Eunbi.

Anyway, enjoy this :)

There's the stab of overmorrow's claws that sink into your skin as early as ereyesterday. Add the fear that creeps into your heart when you look down into the textbook and realize there is a one-way path with this situation and it does not look safe at all. Everything goes downhill from here. There's the—

Three quick knocks pound onto your wooden door like silver rain on a rooftop. You close the textbook with jerky surprise, but you do not need to look into the eyehole to know who it is. The visitor is obviously her. It's obviously Kwon Eunbi, the smartest girl in your school.

You have requested her to help you revise for your exams, and accordingly, she comes to your home every Sunday since the start of September to do so. How you got so lucky to have such a pretty girl visiting you regularly, you'd like to say you have no idea. But you can only point to your report cards and feedback sections scribbled with dark red negativity. If the scathing words from exhausted teachers written on the back aren't enough to send the message, you will be straightforward: you aren't the brightest student.

You are quite average in other subjects, which is probably one of the two redeemable qualities about you. But English is just a ridiculous setup for failure. You do not like having people know you need help with it either, which makes your situation a bit more difficult than it already is if not for Eunbi being the sweetest girl in the world. (Besides being the prettiest.)

The fear partially washes away, like leftover combed seashells on sand. The phobia of failing has gone by a small surge, but a new one takes its place: one of Eunbi.

It's not that she's an overly strict and brutal tutor; in fact, she's as kind as a girl can get, and too pretty to be frightening anyway. But you are afraid of what you might do that can seem out of place if you want her to like you. If you want her to want you as much as you do her. It's such a stupid schoolgirl crush you have on her, yet you find no escape. Nor can you find a girl that can match the beauty she has, or a distracting enough video game to keep your mind off her.

Your heart aches with anticipation as you open the door. It is no big surprise to see that Eunbi looks beautiful. The pair of round black-rimmed glasses sits on her nose neatly, matching the color of her curled long hair. In addition to that, she is still wearing the school blouse and skirt, making her look like the perfect cute nerd in movies. It's a very usual and everyday outfit, nothing too model-ish or fashionable. But it still dumbs you down to nothing but admiration. How it wraps around her busty form and shows off her thighs oftentimes make you lose the answer to her questions even though it's on the tip of your tongue.

"Hi, oppa!" Eunbi says kindly. She is just a little younger than you, but definitely only by years. In terms of knowledge, she is way out of your league—she's miss Valedictorian, the biggest bookworm, writer of the year, and a good volleyball player. You... well, there's not much to go over.

She gives you a big hug. Emphasis on the "big." Her breasts practically push into your body and almost nudge you out of her embrace. The girl is adorably oblivious to it, only beaming with giddiness at seeing you, and hugs you tighter. Your breath sounds heavier than her giggle.

But wrap your arms around her a little too confidently. Her smooth back and taut stomach feel good under your fingertips. How much more if you were holding—

No. You can't think like that about her! She's your tutor, a completely innocent girl who doesn't deserve to be lewded by your thoughts depsite her insane body. But no matter how many times you remind yourself about it, you keep forgetting. Kind of similar to your relationship with sentences and predicaments.

But it is a different kind of forgetfulness when it's with Eunbi. Unlike the panic that grips you when you forget an essential fact while answering your test, you are blissful to delve in its ignorance. For a limited time, the world allows you to believe that she might like you. That you might have a chance with her. It's a little thing that makes you happier and sadder in the same breath, but you wear a big smile.

"Hi, Eunbi. Thanks for coming by so early!"

It's a statement free of sarcasm. You are glad to have Eunbi come by, especially when you are about to have a breakdown over English. But even with that aside, she's a beauty, and beautiful things are more than allowed in your home.

You lead her to your living room. Several of your textbooks, reviewers and fillers are already out and open on the coffee table. There is science... mathematics... history... they all make your head hurt more than any car ride could.

"Yeah, Miss Bae dismissed us early so I came here five minutes before time," she says with a giggle. But then her face suddenly loses its brightness and surges into fear. "I didn't disturb you, did I? I'm really sorry if I did! You know I could wait till you're settled!"

Oh, that cute downcast look. She is so painfully cute that you want to hug her again, and not just for the feel of her body. "No, not at all!" you say, calming her down. "I needed to work on revising early anyway. Will you help me a little more today? Maybe some extra time, too?" you add hopefully.

"Of course, it's my job! And you pay me very... abundantly." Eunbi gives you a cleverly-timed wink. "So I don't mind at all. Shall we start?"

She hands you the worksheets she has prepared. They're not too lengthy, and have her watermark: a clean red doodle of a bunny and her name in Korean. Nothing out of the ordinary. These letters in the questions aren't in Korean, though. Wait, why are they...

Oh dear God, no. It's English. English, the goddamned language you are forced to learn since everybody in the world knows it and writes it because one day, some stupid people decided to build the tallest tower in the world and made God angry. Or so you were told. But why couldn't you be the exception and go on without knowing the languages?

It's important to note that you are an overall average student. Not good enough to make the honors' list, but not bad enough to be one of the rejects sitting at lunch in the corner either. You barely pass exams, but something is still better than nothing. So, on other subjects, you lend in time to study without putting in much effort. However, this one is your weakness. While you still have hopes to pass in other subjects, the chances slim when you are put in the English spotlight.

You can never wrap your head around it. For example, why do "though," "tough," and "thorough" all have different pronunciations but are spelled nearly the same? Why does the menaing of a word or sometimes a whole sentence change your approach?

It is too broad of a language for you. You'd rather stick to the Hangeul characters you know by heart and say something in your native language. But you know Eunbi won't let that happen.

She sits there with her hands folded, patiently waiting for you to go on answering. But she notices the crease in your forehead and immediately knows what is going on; you have hit a rut, and she has to help you out of it. "Do you want me to go over some flashcards first?"

"I didn't know we were going for English first, but yeah, sure," you say, a little reluctantly. To you, flashcards are just the same as worksheets: difficult and senseless. So you do not understand why she thinks this will help. But hey, you're the student, she is the tutor slash teacher slash cutie. You have to trust her to do her thing well.

"Okay!" says Eunbi cheerfully. She brushes back long strands of curls behind her ear with another hand as she picks up a deck of cards with the other. She remains optimistic and bright-eyed throughout the first minutes of the session, even if you are the opposite. "What is a verb, and what does it do?"

The honey-colored card that invades your line of vision is hard to scrutinize. It is a basic question, really. But not for you, for in that second, every bit of the little knowledge you have about a verb dissolves to nothingness. Verb... verb... what the fuck is a verb?

You are stuck with nothing but a slacked jaw and an empty mouth. Even a third grader can answer this, so why can't you?

You look back at Eunbi with troubled eyes while her brown ones remain cheerful. Never lose your spark, little one. "Uhhh, I think—fuck, can I get a clue?"

"Haaah, oppa-ya!"

The little one has lost her spark. Your ignorance extinguished its heat. Eunbi bumps your shoulder with the force of both mock and real frustration. "There aren't gonna be any clues in the exam, y'know?" she scolds you. "You can't just go up and ask the teacher for a hint!"

You feel a little bad now. Your mind's habitual way of letting important pieces of knowledge slip from its grasp makes Eunbi feel bad, too. Because of it, she begins to doubt her own teaching ability. Is she not patient enough? Did she not choose the questions properly? All those things run in that pretty head of hers now that you have immediately failed to answer.

But it truly isn't her fault. She spends nights printing out your worksheets and reviewing your subjects beforehand, always trying to add a sweet touch to them with a scribble of encouragement on the margins. And you... you are just mind-numbingly forgetful and lazy. None of it is her doing.

But you want to answer the flashcard question with a little bit of help. At least just a tiny bit of help.

"But it's just a tutoring session right now, isn't it?" you reason with her. Look through those brown eyes and attempt to find a hint of patience she can use for you. It is only barely less than the forgiving glimmer that is there on the usual. "Just one hint can do."

You are desperate for it. They are not always helpful, but they do give you time to reflect on what you have studied. On rare occasions, they tap into long-forgotten memories of your other sessions with Eunbi. Sometimes they are about studying, sometimes they're about the little talks you have with her that aren't study-related. There's the right keyword sometimes to put two and two together. Only sometimes, but right now, all you have around that can be of assistance is a hint.

Eunbi is not dumb. She sees through your reasoning and understands why it makes sense. So, being the kind girl she is, she relents. You have the heavens and her parents to credit for making her so forgiving.

"Fine," she says sullenly. She looks adorable; her full lips are pulled downwards in a pout, paired with her spectacles. She looks like the perfect nerdy girlfriend. Oh, if only... "But if you still give no answer or a wrong one after this, we're going to review again. Do we have a deal?"

"I promise we do, Eunbi. With all my heart."

"Good oppa!" says Eunbi cheerfully, back to her normal self. "Here's the hint: it's what you, um, do. In that sense of the word."

Realization hits you, only by a little jab. "Oh! I think that's—um..."

"You just said a verb! Come on, you can do this!"

Then it hits you with unsure slap, as if it were doubtful that it hit the right victim. "The, the action that the subject of the sentence does—?"

"Ding, ding, ding! Yes, you got it!"

Eunbi claps happily, hugging you again. You are blissful, too. Maybe there is a chance of you succeeding after all. Maybe the path isn't so foggy.

"Do I get a prize for getting the correct answer?" you ask with much anticipation. Eunbi always has little treats for you to go by. After a particularly difficult mathematics session, she went with you to the café for a milkshake. Sometimes you would go out for a quick snack. But honestly, you'd take anything, just as long as she stays by your side.

But the Eunbi by your side currently does not look so sure of herself. You can identify well the look on her face because you wear it all the time: an expression of curiosity. You wonder what had gone on behind the scenes for her to look so insecure.

Her index fingers meet and part repeatedly as she gazes at you. Her eyes tell a story you cannot piece apart, but you can get the mood of it: a strange wistfulness left unattended to.

"It's all up to you, actually," she says, quietly, "and I just want to know what it feels like when it's from you. Just that."

"What do you mean, Eunbi?" you ask, with more confusion than ever.

"F-for your prize, you can touch my, um, chest."

"Huh? What happened, is your heart beating weird?"

"No, oppa, I want you to touch my breasts, pleaseee!"

She spurts out the statement with frustration and embarrassment. Eunbi's cheeks have grown bright red, and they only tone up when your hands start to fidget. You may have a hesitant mind of your own, but your hands have known what they wanted to do since the day Eunbi dropped that pencil and accidentally flashed you more than an eyeful. Ever since your eyes took in the beautiful yet limited sight of her breasts, you realized that there is more to Eunbi than a cute girl. And all the time, you thought that she didn't know of her own danger. You ignorantly thought that she is simply too young and innocent to find it out for herself, but she must have seen your provoked expression that day.

"Eunbi...?"

"Look." Eunbi pouts at you and unbuttons the first few buttons of her blouse. The two hills—no, mountains—of flowing cleavage rises into your view. "Does oppa want his prize or not?"

"Of, of course I do."

Tentatively wrap your deft fingers around Eunbi's tit. It feels even better than you imagined. Even with the partial cloth blocking you from its full glorious nakedness, its softness remains. You can feel her nipple harden under your thumb as you continue to squeeze her.

It is a new feeling to Eunbi, having a foreign hand touch where she is second most sensitive. Especially since she has not done any of this sex thing besides touching herself. And even the orgasms that had her whimpering and rocking against her pillow with desperation cannot compare to your fingers groping her.

"Mmm, oppa, that feels good." Her eyes close with all the pleasure you give to the softness of her heavy breasts. "So good... getting touched by you like this."

"Fuck, Eunbi"—your body inches closer to her busty figure, eager to press against its form—"I want to—"

"No, s-stop, we aren't done with reviewing yet!" Her weak voice sounds as if she is trying to convince herself rather than tell you off. With a reluctant look on her pretty face, she positions herself on the sofa normally, trying to proceed. "Don't be so greedy, oppa-ya."

"Seems like you're greedier than me, Eunbi. You were whining like a puppy," you counter her insult. While you understand that she still needs to go on with her job as a tutor, she does not need to pretend that her heart is burning with desire, too. Literally.

Eunbi crosses one thick thigh over the other and shakes her head with clear denial. "No, I'm not! I just... wanted to know what it feels like," she now confesses with a sullen look. "And, and I know you wanted to touch me for the longest time."

Longest time? Does she mean that she figured you out that day, too? Kwon Eunbi is not as oblivious as you originally deduced. She may be sweet and cute, yet she is undeniably intelligent. You might have not said anything verbally about it at the time, but it turns out that she read you like a book.

Eunbi hides her face behind your English textbook like a shy bunny, leaving only her eyes for you to see. "I thought that it would be nice if I let you, because you're really cute, oppa! And it can be motivation, right?"

"Smart girl, Eunbi-ya," you praise her. Her cheeks glow red. She hides her face behind the book even more.

But your cheeks are beet red, too. Did Kwon Eunbi—the Kwon Eunbi, straight-A student and the campus crush—just call you cute? How long has she thought that about you?

The tables have been turned and your back was, too. You were the unmindful one all along.

You are struck by how dumb you are. It's not like it isn't already a usual factor in your life, but you don't miss things like this. You can tell how someone feels right off the bat with just a look. You pride yourself with your certainty of the state of everything. But even when it's already outside of academic fields, she's bested you. Again.

Just how smart is Eunbi? You have never underestimated her intelligence. It is hard to when she is always on top of the honors' list and the first to announce that she's finished with the exams. But now you realize she notices little things, too, just like you.

A silence passes over the living room for a few seconds, but Eunbi proceeds to the next question anyway. The two of you are blushing too hard and are just eager to move on.

"Second question," says Eunbi, shoving a card in your face, "it is defined by Oxford Languages as 'a word or phrase naming an attribute, added to or grammatically related to a noun to modify or describe it.'"

You appreciate the sources from which she gathered the fancy definition, but the elaborate meaning just makes your head hurt. Why stretch a simple definition out to such flowery words? One particular keyword rings a bell, though.

"An adjective," you answer confidently.

"Yes! Give three examples."

"'Pretty,' 'small,' and 'smart.'"

Eunbi blushes then nods approvingly. She knows all those adjectives were about her since you keep giving her pointed glances as you list them. She flips the flashcard to show that you got the right answer.

"You're getting better at this!" she says happily. "Your next prize is you can touch my legs."

Eunbi does not wait for you to accept her prize. She swings both of her legs over your lap, pressing them firmly to your thighs. Just when you thought Eunbi could not get more dangerous, she has showed you up again. The skirt barely hides the roundness of her thick thighs, nor does it hide the shorts that hug them so tightly.

You do not hesitate this time. If Eunbi wants this, then you should give in. Your hand graces the toned muscles on her thighs, formed by her days as a varsity volleyball player, and runs down the rest of her smooth legs. They feel almost as good as her tits, although the only thing that can outdo them is her face. That pretty, pretty face that reacts almost instantly with parted lips and closed eyes. You watch her responses to your caresses with a few pants of your own; seeing her orgasmic reactions is a thing straight out of a JAV porn.

Her center moves against your thigh demandingly. You take that as a signal. Slip your hands underneath her skirt and feel for—

"Hah, no, no, no!" Eunbi's gasps sound like they're wrung out of breathless lungs. "We still have more questions... and the worksheets—mmmm!"

Part of being a good tutor is to have the high ground, but not make it seem like it. But Eunbi is slowly losing the upper hand, all because of your fingers brushing over the center of her underskirt shorts and feeling for the insides of her thighs. She tries to be a good tutor. She tries with all the strength she has in her little body, but they cannot fight against your lingering touch. Nor can they resist the prods of your fingertips at what you think is her clitoris. You might be right; a sharper whine is heard from her.

"Noooo, why does it have to feel so good?" Eunbi whispers. She tugs at your shirt, burying her head in the nook of your shoulder. "Please, oppa, you have to answer some questions still..."

"Oh, fine," you reply with a kiss on her hair. "What's the next question, Eunbi?"

Her free hand shuffles the flashcards. "A word that represents persons, concepts, things, and places. Answer this right and you'll get a bigger prize."

Suddenly, you become the best student there ever was in English. You remember almost everything you and Eunbi have gone over during your sessions. It turns out that all you needed is the promise of Eunbi's body. The promise of the freedom to do everything good to that body that is just begging and pleading to be fucked thoroughly.

"A noun," you answer.

"Correct! You can put them inside me now!"

Swift and ready, your fingers travel through the sides of Eunbi's underwear and shorts and take pleasure in their destination: her hot, tight cunt. When your two fingers enter her, she practically screams. The virginal clamp of her walls is hard to navigate, but they are only a foretold joy for another part of your body. So you truly don't mind spreading your fingers and parting them. They bring another pro: Eunbi's helpless whines.

"Kiss me," she demands. "Kiss Eunbi, please. Kiss her neck."

Your lips arrive at her full tiers, only for a moment for they line down her cheeks, jaw, and neck. Her scent invades and controls your senses. She cries out needily, and she's honestly evil for it. So completely evil for enunciating her sounds with such desire and submissiveness, even if you're sure it's completely unintentional. But you fall victim to her anyway. You bury your face in her hair and kiss her hard, like you've always wanted to.

That's probably as true as the illustrious tits heaving up and down before you.

She's quite inexperienced, and it shows with the quiver of her form with every kiss you place, in addition to her constant whines, as if she weren't oriented originally to the feeling of being penetrated by your diligent fingers. But she wants it. She wants more of you playing with her body, yet she's hesitant, too. Should she abandon her job as a tutor and instead become your fucktoy for the hour? Or should she return to the former Eunbi—the Eunbi who smiles and claps for her oppa because he asked for her help?

"Come on, oppa. I have to, hmph, read another question. Please let me."

The good Eunbi still lives on. You're so impressed by it that your next kiss is one of tenderness rather than lust. "Good girl, Eunbi. Go on."

Her fingers grasp at the flashcards desperately, trying to keep them visible. "It is the topic of a s-sentence, and can usually found at the beginning or end of the sentence," she reads. There's a pleading glint in her eyes, and they send you a message: Answer this correctly, I need you.

You thumb her clit firmly, causing her to buck against it. It's a sign of her upcoming orgasm, and you are surprised that it will arive earlier than expected. But Eunbi hasn't been touched like this other than by herself. She's new to all this, you have to let her off the hook.

Rack your mind for the answer while Eunbi whimpers at your ever-so-constant thrusts. As you consider the possible answers that present themselves in your mind, she whispers pleads for more. Her thighs squeeze around your arm, telling you to keep going, even though your arm aches. You needed the exercise anyway.

"P-parallelism?" you say dumbly.

"No!" Eunbi shakes her head. "Now you have to stop, oppa. You answered incorrect—no, please, please slow down!"

Frustration wrecks your senses and sends your fingers furiously jabbing in the direction of Eunbi's slit. They do more than just jab. They dive into her and wiggle in order for the tiny hole to allow them in. Eunbi sobs as your kisses get harder, not knowing what to do when the orgasm rips through her body. How can she handle all this?!

You're being too rough. You know you are, yet you keep pistoning your digits inside her like it's an addiction of yours that you simply can't let go of. The sounds of her pussy slick with wetness and juices intoxicate you and send your impulsive actions into a flurry. Meanwhile, Eunbi's screams are becoming more and more concerning.

"No, it's not your prize anymore! It's too much, you have to slow down!" All those words yet she moves in accordance with your actions, giving you mixed signals. "I want more, oppa, but I have to be a good tutor!"

"The only good you're going to be is my good little girl," you declare. Teeth capture her earlobe then her neck. "And my good girl is about to cum, isn't she?"

Eunbi blushes at your words. She nods. She can tell from the way the heat is becoming borderline unbearable. It's dangerous, it's hot, and most importantly, it's wrong. She shouldn't have offered her body as your prize in the first place. She should have yielded to the temptation and resisted her lust. But they are all would've-could've-should'ves now. Eunbi is trapped in you.

She isn't sure if she wants to find a way out.

"Then cum for me. Cum for oppa, be good for him."

Her tummy is becoming too tight. She's scared, she's turned on, and she is very very close. "But oppaaa! I can't!" she sobs. "I can't, it's too hot, I can't I can't I can't—!"

She says she cannot, yet the stream of liquid sprays on your hands anyway. Eunbi's legs flail and spread, allowing you to furiously pump her core to climax. She screams the whole time, blinded by pleasure along with the heat. It pushes her nipples to erection and her toes to curl tightly.

You could have cum on the spot just from watching her cum. The climax electrifies her being and makes her shake from it. You never thought you could ever see Eunbi cum. The world is funny like that, bringing out the unexpected and hiding them once it becomes the opposite. You thought that her climax would be accompanied by quiet pleads. Instead, she cums hardly and violently. Her core holds onto your fingers and her clit twitches with need.

The flashcards have long dropped on her skirt. The worksheets are stained and wet from her squirt. It's all greatly unprofessional and low. But to you, she's still a good tutor. Still your good girl.

"You okay, Eunbi?" you ask softly. "Are you alright, sweet girl?"

She's shuddering like she's cold. Anyone would have offered her a jacket. You, however, offer her a kiss.

"I'm okay," Eunbi says, both to calm your fears of having hurt her and herself. Her eyes are closed and her mouth hangs slightly open to let out heavy pants. "Eunbi's okay."

"Glad to hear that," you say with a relieved smile. She smiles back tiredly. "Still up to tutor me after this?"

She nods. Of course she is. She is yours now, after all, although the two of you haven't been able to grasp at saying it out loud yet.

"Any last questions?"

"Yes, of course."

Eunbi lies back into your chest with a sigh of exhaustion. It's the happy kind of tiredness though. It was quite the surreal experience. In just a matter of minutes and only with your finger, she saw stars and still needs to be brought back down to earth.

Her whole body is numb. She needs to feel something. "The answer was noun, by the way."

"I thought so."

"Sure you did. What's a pronoun?"

That, you know. It's easy to remember since they are used so often. "Words used to substitute for names and things so they don't get repetitive. Examples are 'it,' 'she,' 'him,' and so on."

"Correct! Your prize is this!"

Her fingers stretch the garter of her shorts, and let its material fall to the floor. Her underwear follows shortly after. Your dazed eyes follow each slip and descent with longing. Then you realize that you don't have to long and wish for it like you did all those days ago. You can actually have it. She wants you to have it, and that fact alone makes it all the more exciting.

The storm of lust takes her down. She crashes on the sofa of your living room. You splay her legs apart to prepare her for the second taking. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she watches you fish out your erection, which already leaks with desire.

Then she looks up at you.

Kwon Eunbi looks up at you with bewildered eyes, with her legs spread apart and the skirt unable to do even the slightest bit of covering up. Her tits look even bigger from this angle, because they're squished up behind her black bra and by the blouse.

But most importantly, there's her pretty pussy to admire.

And to savage.

All she tells you before it happens is one, simple request:

"P-please be gentle."

You, however, do not reply. You can't make promises you can't keep.

After that, only obscene sounds come spilling out of the valedictorian's mouth. And it's all because of your dick rushing into her hugging walls, forcing them apart. Eunbi cries out, grabbing for anything to keep her sane, yet her fingers only discover the pillows of your sofa. They aren't strong enough to be immune to the dig of her fingernails in them, nor are they soft enough for there to be any comfort for her panicked hands. So she uses her thighs as substitute. She holds her legs and pulls them whenever the pain returns again, somehow unknowingly putting herself in a mating press position.

Her narrow textured walls embrace your cock with unyielding tightness. You were so unprepared for it that you have to calm yourself down before thrusting again. But how can you calm down at all with Eunbi's face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain, and her legs up in the air like that? Not to mention her round tits peeking through the unbuttoned fabric of her blouse?

"S-so big! Oh!" Eunbi flinches as you fire a harder thrust. Your cockhead pokes places even her long, pretty fingers can't reach. She feels so worked up, so utterly vulnerable that her eyes begin to water with tears behind her spectacles. "Please be gentle with me, oppa, you're too big!" she pleads once more. But it isn't the only beg she's going to ask of you this afternoon.

Consider being gentle. Consider engaging in loving, soft vanilla sex with her. But your cock says otherwise. It wants to dive into her with every bit of mercilessness you have, and corrupt this pretty little tutor more. And you are not one to withhold anything from what your cock desires.

But you settle for slow but hard drills first. Eunbi hums, full lips pursed as she tries to take the width and girth of your dick. Her senses still run high because she has just experienced an orgasm from you fingering her, so it's difficult to go through it all without sobbing a little. She's never felt this turned on before, and she is becoming a bit overwhelmed.

"Show me your tits, Eunbi," you ask of her. It's more of a demand, really. Their bounces are limited by the containment of them by her bra, and if you were to give in completely to your desires, you'd rip it straight off. But you want to see her take it off by herself. You've wanted to for as long as you can remember.

Slow down to let her take it off. It's a white lace bra, obviously a little too old and small for her since its clasps let go easily. Her heavy breasts spill from the soft cups and into your line of view.

If you were to use adjectives for Eunbi's bosom, you'd use three: round, soft, and pretty. Their areolas and nipples are pink, erect because of the arousal and the air. They begin to bounce repeatedly now that they are free from their fabric prison. You couldn't be more intrigued with their rising and falling movements. They are far more interesting than the rising and falling action of any stupid classic your English teacher requires you to read.

They drive you to strengthen the force of your pounds. Eunbi wails again. "Oppa!" she says. "Oppa, just let me ask you another question!"

"Ask it while I'm fucking you," you reply.

Her voice strains and cracks as she tries to speak. "What is a... p-predicament, and—oh, god!"

This is the only test Eunbi will ever fail. She cries because of the rough assault your cock offers to her virgin pussy, yet her walls still embrace it demandingly. They never cease with their squeeze, so she can do nothing but want to be subjected to your using even more. She wants you. She wants you to make her cum.

But being a tutor comes first.

"Oppa, please make me ask a question!"

The heave of your hips take a while before they get the message. You force yourself to a stop. God damn it, you were already so close. Screw school for cockblocking you.

Eunbi is both relieved and disappointed that you stopped. The tears that watered in her eyes have slid down her pale cheeks while the juices from her well-fucked pussy drip down the sofa like a waterfall. You've taken her so roughly that there are red marks of your hands on her legs. You feel a little sorry that you've treated such a sweet girl so harshly; she looks so spent. And to think that this is only her first time!

"I—I need to catch my breath," she says. Her eyes close while her mouth performs the opposite. It inhales sharp draws of breath that make her breasts heave and fall. You feel the slightest tinge of guilt that despite the rough session and the break the two of you are taking, you are still utterly turned on.

Lucky for you, there's only better things to look forward to in the hour.

"You were so big inside me, oppa," she moans. "I thought that I couldn't handle it... but I liked it so much."

Recall your earlier line and state it: "I thought so."

"I still have another question or two," she says.

"Hit me."

"Give three kinds of adverbs."

"Adverbs of time.... uh, place? And manner?"

"Correct. You've earned a tit...." Eunbi struggles to say it without getting flustered. "I'll just show you."

One gentle push from Eunbi and you're the one on the sofa now. Buttons are released and undone, and her two breasts wrap your length with its loving softness. It takes time for you to realize what is going on. So it hits you a little later to realize that Kwon Eunbi, your pretty little tutor, is giving you a titjob.

Where did she learn all of this? That she answers right after the thought touches on your mind.

"Does it feel good?" she asks nervously. "I tried to watch some, um, videos of it, but it always seemed so hard."

She moves her breasts up and down, trapping them in the jail that is the soft flesh squeezing your appendage and stimulating your senses. Her tits love the sensation, too, especially when Eunbu's fingers tap on her all-too-sensitive nipples. Whenever that happens, she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, in a feeble attempt to calm her thoughts.

"You're doing great, Eunbi," you groan out. More than great, in fact. Her bosom does most of the work, but her expressions contribute to your wants and needs as well. Those watery puppy eyes and the stretched frown of her lips make you want to fuck her mouth. See how much she can take and how much she can cry.

Next time.

Claustrophobia never overtakes your cock. They enjoy the pillowy closeness of the tiniest spaces of Eunbi's boobs. Eunbi looks on with utter fascination. She has never done this before, and never even thought that this was a thing. So she's a little surprised at how easy it is, and how good it feels for you. The breathy groans you make as you slide in and out of her voluptuous chest make her core wet with need.

You get off more easily and earlier than you expected. Just a few more upwards thrusts and you've ejaculated all over her. Eunbi gasps surprisedly at the sticky white substance that sprayed so suddenly. There's spurts on her collarbone, chin, and bosom. She looks so satisfyingly dirty that your guilt for arriving earlier almost completely washes away.

Her eyes connect to your tired gaze. Then, she fingers the wet semen and circles them on her nipples. She bites her lip, whimpering a little, but starts to tweak her nipples to deliver shudders of pleasure throughout her body. A drop of cum is swallowed from her finger.

"Eunbi-ya..." You're more than take aback. In a good way. "When did you get so dirty?"

"I had Sakuchan teach me." Her eyes close as she remembers what Sakura did to her. "She was a good tutor."

Sakura? Does she mean Miyawaki Sakura, the girl who wins a lot of the pageants at school? Oh. Well, the two of them do seem particularly close...

"Oppa."

You dash a look towards Eunbi inquisitively. "Yeah?" you ask. You can't believe her glasses have managed to stay on despite the rough fucking.

"I have one last question for you."

"And what might that be?"

Eunbi places her arms on your lap and rests her chin on one of them, tilting her head to the side. "Do you promise to treat me like your good girl?"

She's a seductive force to be reckoned with, one that was more of what she was born with rather than was taught. She climbs onto your lap like she has always known she's fit for it, and cages your sides with her beautiful legs. Her skirt lies on her thighs, a curtain disguising what is yet to come, while her hands drape themselves over your shoulders. They squeeze your tense muscles, yet your form never relaxes. Your body is too caught up with the lack of oxygen.

There she goes again with that pout. Downward tugs at the end of her plump lips, eyes glossy with the ghost of an innocence long gone. The specs allow her to see your hesitant face, so she spices the deal up.

"Do you promise," Eunbi says, "to make this memorable for me? Make it a good first time?"

Jesus, what was Sakura teaching her?

"Of course, Eunbi," is your answer. And apparently, the correct one. The only answer she'd take.

"Correct. For that, you can fill me up."

She has made plenty of requests over the time of the session: requests for you to go easy, to answer her questions correctly... too many to count. The word is starting to sound made up. But your head is only filled with thoughts of fucking her senseless.

Oh, you'll make it memorable for her, alright.

The tension breaks. You go wild, now that this second session won't be interrupted by academic questions. Those stupid questions that shouldn't dictate your worth, nor your future. Your job isn't going to ask you what time fucking Shakespeare was born. So why should you have to spend eternal hours studying for a test paper you're going to fail anyway? Why should you?

But surely there is no reason why you shouldn't fuck Eunbi. There is no reason why you shouldn't insert yourself inside the hole between those slick folds, see the pleasure run through her gorgeous face, and watch those exposed tits bounce. There is no reason for you not to grab her body and trap her against the sofa and take her pussy from between her widespread legs.

So you do it.

Switch positions. Grab Eunbi's shapely hips and turn around swiftly, pinning her down to the sofa. Swiftly enter her quivering form. She's still so hot and tight, you think, with a groan that mixes with Eunbi's moans.

Your brisk actions make her tense around you. She isn't sure if she is going to be able to take it again. Your erection still remains as large as ever. It penetrates her inexperienced body so well that she doesn't think she'll want any other dick to take her this way, even if she's only received one all this time: yours.

Her moans return. From there, you cannot hold back. You pound into Eunbi with gusto. She yelps everytime, squirming to make herself comfortable in this position and to bring herself closer to your cock. Not that it's leaving anytime soon; only a few inches exit with your in-and-out thrusts, driving your leaking mushroom head repeatedly to her cervix. Her cries are as constant as your drills.

You fight against the narrowness of her walls. You thrust in her with the intention to fuck her so good that you make them memorize the shape and length of your dick. Eunbi's tightness isn't a problem, though; it's easier to rub the texture of her walls this way. Easier to make her scream.

Her cum-covered tits now bounce freely. They've been released from the confinement of her bra and buttons earlier, so you are offered the pretty viee of them jiggling as you knock Eunbi up. Semen covers their nipples. It drips down to her toned stomach. You've been put in such a sex-crazed trance by them that it almost steals your attention away from her pleasured face.

Lopsided glasses remain before Eunbi's wide, fluttering eyes. You are using her thighs to pull yourself to her, and to spread them to allow more heavenly access. Her skirt has flown up to her taut tummy. She is such a mess for your cock in every way, yet you still find yourself wildly attracted to her. She's perfect, from her moans to her squirms, her whines and her cries.

"D-don't stop!" Eunbi tells you. There's no "please" attached to the starts or ends of her requests anymore. Her politeness has melted away. Its loss has allowed her to show that her screamed statement isn't a request. No, she's demanding that your thrusts don't falter nor pause. She's demanding for every might you have in your body to be delivered to her in the form of your pumping. "Make me cum, oppa! Make me... hngmph!"

You rub her wet pearl with your thumb, meriting a delightful pursed moan from her. You start to give it harsh and forced flicks. Eunbi responds with several gasped groans that sound higher than before. They're followed by raspier moans, which you didn't expect to love hearing from her. Her screams are better, though, you'd say.

Her celestial form writhes and shifts in its position on your sofa. Eunbi cries out everytime you swipe at her clit again, or throw a spank at her ass, which you only discover now is as equally deserving of appreciation as her tits or face. Every inch of her is perfect. Every inch of her deserves to be loved.

That is precisely why your hands touch everything. You lean over to take one of those pretty nipples in between your fingers and give it a firm squeeze. She sighs delightfully. After kissing her lips and taking in their strawberry bubblegum-like taste, you decide that it is time.

Grab her legs firmly, push them together, then shove them up in the air. Your stomach slaps the curves of her thighs while your dick joins her cervix once more. Eunbi's skirt has no purpose now. At least, not any purpose that is enough to hide her naked obscenity. But you care more for the yells that wickedly corrupt your heart that come from Eunbi's gorgeous set of lips—

For the panicked shake of her legs as your pounds obtain maximum strength—

For the severe cry she makes while her hands yearn and play with her breasts beautifully covered with your semen—

For the look of uncaged wildness in Eunbi's eyes; the one you recognize as the result of a freshly-broken innocence—

—are too much.

"Cum, cum— cumming!" she shrieks. Her whole body spasms and quakes, and you begin to have difficulties keeping her legs, which have been used even in the timespan of half an hour or so to spread for you, in the mating press position. "Oppa, slow down, slow down, can't keep—Ican'tkeepcumm—haaaaah!"

Paint the insides of the little slit with white while Eunbi renders the sofa fabric torn. Tears run down her cheeks. Her fingers, betwixt the red sofa blanket, have gone numb. Breathing becomes a chore; you're still going and going, draining yourself inside her to make the most out of it all.

Then, finally, slide yourself out. Eunbi's pussy has successfully been ejaculated on, just like her breasts and chest. You pray that the next time you find yourself inside her heavenly cunt, one of her name is already "mine."

Nervously, tentatively, lay Eunbi's legs down. Smooth her skirt back down on the pillows that are her thighs. The slightest whine escapes her mouth derived from the soreness. It's her first time, after all—it isn't going to be fine after just a few seconds.

————

"So, uh...." Strangely, you're the one asking the questions. now. Trading places with her, putting yourself in her shoes. Gaze at the exhausted Eunbi on the sofa and the anxiety returns to you. "You want anything? Frozen peas, a blanket, anything?"

"Thank you, but don't try to fool me," says Eunbi, smiling tiredly at what she thinks is your not-so-subtle way of trying to outrun responsibility. Unfortunately for you, responsibility can run nine marathons with the speed of twenty-seven horses.

She tries to spread her legs, but flinches when the pain hits. "You still have a test on T-Tuesday, remember?"

Of course. But you smile anyway. "I'm guessing you don't want another go then?"

A hopeful look passes over her eyes. "Do you still like me?"

Heart thumping against your throat, nod. "Yeah. A lot."

Eunbi nods understandingly. She asks another question that you are surprisingly ready for. "Are you still going to keep me stretched and filled up?"

"Of course. I'm still your oppa, aren't I?"

"And I suppose," Eunbi says quietly, as she looks down a little sullenly, "I'm still your tutor."

Understanding passes between the two of you, without words nor signs. You two dodge glances and avoid dialogue, and you're once again a little scared. You may have fucked Eunbi senselessly and impulsively, but you still have a massive crush on her. Has the sex ruined any chances of a relationship with her?

There's the stab of tomorrow's claws that sink into your skin as early as today. Add the fear that creeps into your heart when you look sideways at Eunbi and realize there is a two-way path with this situation and it does not look easy at all. Everything can go up or downhill from here. There's the phobia making your hands tingle, the shortness of your breath, the sweat on your face.

But there's also Eunbi's head on your shoulder, and her hands sliding into the comfort of yours. And although you still fear the depth the pierce of the future's claws can probe, the monster to whom they belong to doesn't seem so scary at all.

#kpop smut #kpop #smut #izone #izone smut #kwon eunbi #kwon eunbi smut #eunbi #eunbi smut #izone eunbi #izone eunbi smut #male reader #x reader #reader insert #request #iz days of christmas #iz days of christmas day 1

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embossross · 3 years ago

Text

Dinnertime with Daddy

»Pairing: Mikey x AFAB fem!Reader

»Warning: smut; 18+, minors DNI

»CW: exhibitionism, daddy kink, degradation (use of slut)

»Synopsis: Your boyfriend likes things fast and exciting. Why should a meet the parents be any different?

»Word count: ~5.25k

If you squeeze Mikey’s hand any harder, it will break.

“One last time, just to get our stories straight,” you say. “We met when you tutored me last year, but we only started dating this semester. We’re not ready to say it’s serious, but of course we’re dating towards marriage. You are studying Chemical Engineering, and you hope to someday work as a civil servant. Got all that?”

Mikey blinks at you apathetically.

You squeeze his hand again.

“Right, let’s just do this,” you say and ring the doorbell.

You never planned to introduce Mikey to your foster parents.

Six months into your relationship and you haven’t introduced Mikey to anyone from your social circle really. He met your roommate a few times picking you up, but that was the extent of the overlap. Your days are spent paling around with the girlfriends of Toman, waiting for Mikey to call you in from the other room once business settles. On quieter days, you sit on his lap while the boys play cards or go for a ride on his bike, escaping the neon cityscape to drive along the riverbed and watch the sunset.

There is your university life, where you attend classes and go to coffee/study sessions, and then there’s your life with Mikey. And never the twain shall meet.

Except you made a terrible error, allowing your grades to slip. Once your parents learned you were teetering on the edge of failure, they insisted on meeting your boyfriend. They pegged him as the obvious culprit behind your backslide, and now you are here for dinner and formal introductions. An ambush.

There is barely a pause before the door opens. Both your foster parents greet you. Your father smiles kindly – a farce – while your mother does not bother to pretend this is a pleasure visit.

No one would suspect the aging couple to be parents of a university-age daughter. Your mother’s back is hunched and crooked with age; your father’s hair is white and thinning. Both should be enjoying the care-free years of retirement, but six years ago, they chose to adopt an orphaned fifteen-year-old and save her from a path of delinquency. The Maruyamas offered you a home, a family, and discipline. If not for their guidance, you never would have tested well enough to attend university, and you owe them everything. You expect them to remind you of this tonight.

“Otosan, Okasan, sorry for intruding,” you greet politely.

When Mikey doesn’t immediately greet your parents, dread fills your tummy. He promised to behave and put on a good face for your parents, but what does Mikey truly know of manners? How much of his carefree impudence is arrogance versus the ignorance of the strong?

In the moments of silence, you feel your parents catalogue Mikey’s appearance. His shoulder-length, blonde hair is an immediate strike of disfavor. Dressed up by his standards, his baggy pants are still a fashion faux-pas in the eyes of your conservative parents. Then, there’s Mikey’s dull eyes, so hard to read and offering no pretense of friendliness. Already, your parents must hate him.

“I’m sorry for intruding. Please accept this gift,” Mikey says, offering a small, red-wrapped box from his pockets. He then bows respectfully and crosses the threshold. He sounds like he’s reading a script and is a beat behind what social nicety demands, but it’s close enough to respectable that you almost collapse in relief. You could kiss him.

“Have you been eating enough? You look thin. I can send you back with some snacks. Have you been getting enough sleep? You look tired,” your mother worries, keeping up a steady tirade of maternal cooing as you remove your shoes in the entryway.

Seeing your foster parents’ familiar faces, acting so proper and polite, relaxes you. There is no finger of indictment pointing in your direction, and no sign that Mikey will balk. A part of you always fears asking too much of Mikey as if he might decide you’re not worth the hassle at the slightest stress, so it is a relief that he is not only here but acting the part. You catch his eyes over your mother’s shoulder and share a tender smile.

The table is already laid for dinner. Neither university nor gang life allows for the pleasures of a home-cooked meal, so you kneel with pleasure to observe the nostalgic aromas of your mother’s cooking. There is saba misoni for the main dish with vegetable tempura and hijiki seaweed as the sides, miso soup, green tea, rice, all the staples of a hearty meal. Mikey almost drools, his expression equally dopey as hunger sets in. He hardly listens as your father makes a toast to your auspicious meeting.

And then, dinner begins.

“Have you introduced our daughter to your parents, Sano?” your father asks.

“Unfortunately, my parents are no longer with us. I was raised by my grandfather,” Mikey explains, preparing his plate.

Your parents hum in sympathy. “You have that in common with our daughter. I am sorry for your loss.”

“It’s part of what drew us to each other, I think. We both share an understanding of the world that most people our age don’t have to face until they’re much older,” Mikey says.

Thankfully, the conversation quickly turns away from sober topics. Most of Mikey’s hobbies and interests are taboo: fighting, gambling, and fucking were all off limits. His most mundane interest is probably for the city itself. Mikey knows Tokyo like the back of his hand, has traveled its streets and sampled all it offers. While Mikey loathes small talk, he can comment on most of the goings on of the city, which keeps the conversation flowing.

The Tokyo Skytree will open to the public in May, and your father is eager to be one of the first to the top of the tallest tower in the world. Mikey trades factoids about the tower’s construction with your father as the soup course winds down. Against the odds, you feel your father thawing towards Mikey and his apparent knowledge of the city you all call home.

“Sano, my daughter tells me that you are studying chemical engineering. Perhaps you should have pursued mechanical engineering. You speak so passionately of architecture. You could have someday designed a tower even taller than the Tokyo Skytree,” your mother comments.

At the first mention of your lies, Mikey tenses. You can see his thighs flex where he kneels. The urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder is overwhelming.

“You speak too highly of me, Maruyama-san. Sometimes it feels like I chose Chemical Engineering just yesterday. Perhaps I should change my major while there’s still time,” Mikey says.

There is a quirk of amusement that twists his mouth as he takes dark amusement at his own joke.

“You are a third-year, like our daughter? It would be impossible to change your major now. I hope you don’t take your future so lightly,” your mother scolds.

“Of course, Okasan. Mikey has serious ambitions for next year after he graduates. He speaks lightly, but he’s very responsible and caring towards me and his family,” you offer quickly.

“Tell me more about these ambitions,” your father orders.

If Mikey follows the script, you don’t hear him because your attention is completely arrested by a sudden vibrating pulse. It rocks your body and jolts you in your seat. Focused on Mikey, neither of your parents notice or comment on your restlessness. Slyly observing from the corner of his eye, however, you have Mikey’s undivided attention.

Initially, when you broached the subject, Mikey agreed to meet your parents without hesitation. It felt like a huge step for your relationship, but Mikey didn’t blink. His attitude towards the meeting turned cold last night, however, when you texted him the cover story he needed to maintain. He left your texts on read and ignored your phone calls all day.

Half-expecting him to stand you up altogether, you melted with relief when he arrived on time to take you to your parents’ house. He even remembered to drive you in a four-door sedan because his bike would scandalize your parents.

Mikey was sweet to you on the drive over. Rather than giving you the cold-shoulder, he leaned into your body, pet your hair aside, and kissed your neck. He did everything a good boyfriend should to comfort his girlfriend before a nerve-wracking meet-the-parents until he whispered the treacherous words that doomed you.

“You know, you’re asking a lot from me with nothing in return. Not only do I have to spend an evening with your parents, but I can’t even have any fun? Have to lie the entire time, too? Sounds lame.”

You were horrified at the thought of disappointing, Mikey, and turned to him with big eyes. “I’m sorry, Mikey. I wouldn’t ask if there was another way. What can I do to make it better?”

“There is one thing that could make dinner more entertaining,” Mikey mused, tapping at his chin.

“Anything!”

All frustration disappeared from your boyfriend’s face as it relaxed into what you called the Mikey-smile. The one where his eyes and lips became upturned lines that promised the heights of heaven and the depths of hell.

“Anything?”

That was how you came to sit before your foster parents with a vibrating egg buried in your pussy.

With your walls stretched to secure the toy in place, it was impossible for you to forget it was inside you. Still, you half believed Mikey was bluffing and would let you escape the evening with only the indignity of clenching a sex toy inside your cunt. With the first tremors of the toy rocking your body, you realize Mikey has no intentions of letting you escape that easily.

Upon inserting the toy between your legs, Mikey let you know it has six different settings, which he can control with a digital remote stored in his pocket. The first is a dull treble that pulses and fades at a 2/4 meter, which is enough time for you to relax and then startle over and over again at each blast. There is no getting used to it, but the sensation is muted enough that you have no excuse not to rejoin the conversation.

“The mackerel is so fresh, Okasan. Did you buy it this morning?” you ask.

“Mmhmm, I went to the market today. Your father offered to catch me something even fresher, but I knew better than to believe him. Sure enough, he returned empty-handed this morning. If I had trusted him, we would have had to serve sawdust to our guests,” your mother replies.

“The fish have a mind of their own these days,” your father grumbles.

“Do you fish often?” Mikey asks.

“Every morning if time allows. I retired last year. I’m still not sure what to do with all the time to myself. I hate feeling purposeless,” your father says.

“I agree. There’s nothing worse than feeling bored,” Mikey says with a smile.

In tandem, he pushes the button on the remote, and the vibrator ups the ante. Not only is the power behind each vibration stronger, but the beats per minute nearly double. It feels amazing.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a shaky sip of green tea. Surely, Mikey is entertained now as a flush creeps up the back of your neck. Nothing you do with your face feels natural as you blink rapidly to prevent something far lewder from dominating your expression.

“Is it spicy?” your mother asks, noticing your condition. “I don’t think I used any strong seasonings.”

Mikey places one of his hands on your arm, long, white fingers tickling along the baby hairs there. Only an hour earlier those fingers had gagged you to lube up the vibrator with spit, and then guided it into your spread hole.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

It’s an infinitely cruel question from your, at times, cruel lover. He is delighting in the way your eyes plead with him for mercy, even as you lean more into his warmth. During sex, you like to be touched all over. To only have stimulation against your inner walls feels bizarre, inadequate. You want Mikey’s fingers to trail up and down the silky skin of your under arm, to dance a trail down your ticklish sides, to tweak and scratch and cup and twist down down down until he reaches your clit at which point…

“I’m fine. I choked a little and needed to wash it down with tea,” you force the words out through gritted teeth.

Mikey’s smile is predatory.

“I admit, I see why you two are in a relationship,” your father says. “You look very comfortable with one another, and yet, the way you watch her, Sano …I’d say you are still very much in the infatuation phase.”

“I think your father means I can’t keep my eyes off of you,” Mikey says, smiling.

It’s true. Once the little egg started to tease your pussy, you became the undivided object of Mikey’s attention. In any other scenario, this would be a dream. Even now under the judging eyes of your parents, the thrill of it almost overwhelms your embarrassment.

To have Mikey’s full attention is a rarity, something to be cherished. There is always someone else asking for his time. The excitement of a new conflict or exploit that supersedes the soft intimacy that you could offer. Only when buried deep inside you is Mikey’s attention unequivocally yours. Then, his focus burns.

“We remember, of course, what it’s like to date at your age. I met my wife in our first year of university, and I cherish those early memories with her more than any class I attended or book I read,” your father says.

“There’s a reason so many songs speak of the springtime of love,” your mother agrees, though she doesn’t sound happy about it.

“Otosan, are you not hungry? May I serve you more mackerel?” you say in a desperate bid to stop the inevitable lecture. The build up from your parents is recognizable, rehearsed even.

“No, the meal is done,” your father waves his hand dismissively. “To speak plainly, we worry about your marks this semester.”

“You have always completed such distinguished work but in the last few months, there is a noticeable decline in your performance,” your mother tries her best to sound encouraging, smoothing the edges of the pending reprimand.

“We can’t help but worry that the change is our daughter’s new boyfriend,” your father finishes, looking to Mikey expectantly for an apology or rebuttal.

Mikey takes his time in answering, turning to look at your uncomfortable expression. There is a crinkle in your brow that only appears when you’re stressed or straining to cum; right now, both causes are very much in play. Mikey’s own face is a mixed message. The endless void of his eyes suggests an absence, as if he’s not fully engaged in the conversation, but the wrinkle at the corner of his mouth shows tension. Mikey never takes well to being chastised.

“Your parents think I’m a distraction for you,” Mikey says. “Nothing could be further from the truth, right?”

He accompanies his question with a ratchet up of the vibrator. Your eyes go wide, and you claw at the edge of the table as the pulsing becomes impossible to ignore. With every throb of the vibrator your pussy clenches, sucking it in deep where it belongs. You hold your pelvis perfectly still, afraid the smallest shift might stimulate your inner nerves too well and cause a scene. Unable to answer the question in words, you let out something close to a polite cough. Now, Mikey’s smile holds sincerity.

“Dates are important, but studying is important, too,” your mother says firmly.

From the moment Mikey entered her home, your mother decided Mikey is the cause of your downfall and nothing he says will change her mind. And, she’s right.

In truth, Mikey is the architect behind your falling grades. You must compete for his time against the rest of Toman, which means catching Mikey in the right moment is imperative. Lately, you stopped attending study sessions with your classmates to instead hang around Toman’s base. The tactic pays off handsomely when you catch Mikey in the down moments when one piece of business wraps up and another has yet to start. You then insinuate yourself onto his lap and claim his sweet attention for yourself. Sometimes, he fucks you right there on the conference table Toman uses for meetings. And when the next item of business arrives, you go back to waiting, knowing another opportunity for time with Mikey is yours if you can only be patient.

“I agree completely. Perhaps, she needs a little discipline. I could always tutor her again,” Mikey muses.

You almost whimper at the possibilities. Mikey cockwarming himself inside you while you study, refusing to thrust until you answer correctly. Mikey spanking you when you fail a practice exam. Mikey ordering you to repeat your English vocab words like a mantra, while he drills into your sopping hole.

So subtly that the unaware would never notice, you rock your hips a little. The tiny movement presses the vibrator forward against your slippery walls and your eyes flutter closed.

“You understand why we have concerns?” your mother continues, obliviously addressing you like you aren’t seconds from rubbing your thighs together in front of her. “Your boyfriend has many admirable traits, but there are warning signs.”

“Like?” Mikey challenges.

“Your…personal style is attention-grabbing,” your father offers up awkwardly.

“Otosan, Mikey’s hair is not what’s distracting me from my studies,” you say. “I do appreciate your concern and see your points. I was not prepared for how the classes would be more difficult at the 300-level and need to adjust my study habits accordingly. I promise to be more diligent moving forward.”

You are amazed to get the words out so clearly when you’re starting to drip into your panties.

Beneath the table, Mikey squeezes your knee and then glides his hand higher suggestively. Slight imprints of your nipples are visible. They push through your bra, desperate for tongue, mouth, or hands. When you rub your upper lip, you discretely brush your forearm against throbbing them.

You think you are going to hell.

“We’ve said what we wanted to say and can only trust you to heed our words,” your mother offers diplomatically.

“We trust you,” your father says, smiling.

Mikey increases the vibrator’s tempo again. Unable to stop a mewl of pure pleasure, you drop your head in shame. A tear slips trails down your cheek. The shame and delicious pounding of your pussy war for first place in your downfall.

“There’s no need to cry, sweet girl,” your father says.

“Your father and I will clear the table. Why don’t you show, Sano-kun into the living room?” your mother says.

On shaky legs, you rise from the table and flee the room. It is a small home, offering only the illusion of privacy, but you abandon any decorum outside the direct gaze of your foster parents.

Without hesitation, you collapse fully against Mikey’s side. You rub your body against his like a cat in heat. The grind of your bodies sparks through you, and your eyes roll back. More now. While your parents are safely away in the kitchen, you need to kiss, rut, touch, and lick your boyfriend. Then, you’ll surely cum and this erotic nightmare will end.

“So, which one of your parents is the reader?” Mikey asks, studying the bookcase idly.

“Mikey!”

“So desperate,” Mikey chuckles. He looks down at your scrunched up face and affectionately kisses your brow. He hardly acknowledges the way you undulate against him.

“Please, Mikey. I can’t take it much longer,” you moan. “Touch me!”

The order might as well be rhetorical because you don’t give Mikey the opportunity to refuse. You guide one of his hands to grope and squeeze your breasts. Meanwhile, you bury your face in his neck. There is no space between your bodies, and you position yourself so you can hump his thigh. Tingles multiply up and down your spine, and only the skin of his neck muffles your moans.

“Fuck, do you think if I checked the table there’d be a wet spot where you were sitting?” Mikey mocks you. “Who knew I had such a needy girlfriend? So mindless when her pussy takes over that she’d try to get off in front of her own parents. That’s a special kind of slut, huh?”

“You’re so mean, daddy. Want you to take care of me. Make me cum,” you whimper.

“Ahh, don’t whine, baby. I like that you’re such a needy slut for me. You made me so hard earlier with the way you were trying to be good even as your little pussy gushed,” Mikey says.

His words only add on to your growing humiliation. It’s rare for Mikey to talk so much during sex. You typically do most of the work. He will listen with a smile as you babble about how much you want him, offering up lewd fantasies to try to arouse him to new heights. Maybe because this isn’t really sex – the only purpose of the vibrator to tease you for his amusement – he is more loquacious.

He moves your hand to his pants, so that you can feel his half-hard cock. Any other time, you’d drop straight to your knees to mouth kisses along his length. Limited by circumstance, you instead grip him through the fabric.

“I want your cock, daddy. Take me to the bathroom and fuck me,” you plead.

Gripping your hips, Mikey repositions you abruptly, so that your cunt lines up with his dick. He humps into you once, twice, three times, and it’s almost enough to send you over the edge. Not quite. Just enough to make you lose control.

“Daddy!”

“What was that?”

You freeze in place at your father’s voice from kitchen. Mikey’s eyes are bright and excited at the prospect of getting caught. There will be no aid from that corner.

“Sorry! I thought I saw a spider, but Mikey took care of it,” you call back shakily.

“Ok.”

Your sigh of relief is stopped short when Mikey tips your head back with a grip around your throat. He massages your pulse point and chases kisses up your jawline. The edge you teeter on is turning painful with time as the need to cum escalates. You try to realign your hips with his, but Mikey keeps your lower bodies separate, so that only the vibrator stimulates your cunt.

“Please take me to the bathroom and fuck me,” you whisper urgently.

“Sorry, can’t. I’m trying to make a good impression with your parents. What would they think if they found me using their daughter’s pussy in their own house?”

“But, daddy, I ca-a-a-nnn-t-t,” you start to stutter around the words.

It’s so hard to think when your pussy is alive and throbbing. Relief keeps dangling above you only to be pulled away at the last second. Mikey laughs outright at your misery, and you, lacking any dignity, only grow more desperate at the taunting.

“Do you want me to make it stop, or do you want to cum?” Mikey asks in a clear voice, the one he uses to let you know he’s not teasing. The choice is yours.

“I want you to take me to the bathroom and fuck me,” you repeat with high hopes of manifesting your true desire.

“No, I already told you that’s not happening. I’m giving you two options. One, your parents rejoin us, and I turn our little toy up to the max and watch you cum right in front of them. Or, two, you tell them the truth. Tell them you’re not dating a wholesome college boy, but a dangerous criminal. Tell them the reason your grades are really slipping is because you’re a slut who can’t be separated from her boyfriend’s dick for more than a few hours. Those are your choices.”

So fucking mean.

So fucking mean that your pussy tightens rhythmically around the egg, and you almost cum. There are few things that get you off faster than the rare times when Mikey calls you names and details all the nasty things you’re made for.

There are hundreds of girls that would gladly take your place to get closer to the money, power, and excitement that Mikey commands. But, you are special. You know no one else could love him the way you do. Only you can make him laugh and smile like the terrors of his past are just a forgotten nightmare. Just as importantly, only you can be a slut for him the way he likes. You are ravenous for each other, sharing all the same fantasies and swapping pheromones and bodily fluids like trading cards. Disappointing him is less an option than disappointing your foster parents.

“See anything interesting?” your father’s voice interrupts.

To an outsider, it looks like an innocent embrace, but you still spring away guiltily. Thankfully, Mikey’s pants are black because there is definitely a wet spot where you rubbed against him. The smell of sex is subtle but there if you search for it.

“It’s a good collection,” Mikey says with no trace of your recent activities in his voice.

“Please take a seat,” your father says, directing you both to the sofa.

You sink straight back into the couch, fingers digging into the leather. Looking at your parents is impossible, so you gaze aimlessly at nothing. The sofa dips with Mikey’s weight as he joins you. Both your parents sit opposite in separate chairs.

“We’d love to hear more about you, Sano,” your mother says with noticeably more warmth, like maybe she and your father have come to a positive conclusion about Mikey in their clandestine kitchen conversation. “What does a day in your life typically entail?”

Mikey quirks an eyebrow in your direction. It’s the perfect opportunity to set the record straight and fess up to the truth. Subtly, you shake your head.

“They keep him very busy, Okasan. He’s actually a Teaching Assistant for the Calculus 1 course, and he plays for the football club,” you say with surprising clarity.

Locking eyes, Mikey nods once. The decision is made, and now you will live with it. To signal your demise, he pushes the button on the remote one last time, sending you to the highest level. You suck in an enormous breath and hold it. The pulsing is gone entirely. The egg emits one long, continuous vibration that flickers against your upper walls.

“Oh my God!” You can’t hold back the exclamation, hanging your head in shame.

“Are you alright?” Your father asks.

“My stomach – feels awful,” you manage.

“Should we call the doctor?”

“No, I just…let me sit here and breath,” you implore.

“Was it something I served? I just bought that mackeral today! Let me check the ingredients again!” your mother says, hurrying up to check the expiration dates on what she just served her guests.

“Here,” Mikey says, placing a decorative blanket over both your laps. “You’re shivering like you’re cold.”

With the cover of the blanket and your stomachache alibi, you tilt your head back and just feel. You can press your legs together to pinch your clit a little bit without your father noticing. You can also lean a little into Mikey’s side and inhale the scent of him. He kneads the flesh of your thigh encouragingly.

“I really think we might want to go to the hospital if you’re shaking. It sounds like food poisoning,” your father begins, only to be cut off by the ring of his cellphone. “I’m so sorry. I normally wouldn’t take this, but our neighbor, Saito, just had surgery on a herniated disk. This is his wife calling to tell me how it went. Would it be terribly impolite if I answered?”

“Go right ahead,” Mikey says.

It is the green light you need – both your parents otherwise occupied – to start chasing your orgasm in earnest. Your hair forms a curtain between you and the world, so that you can deny the reality that your father is sitting right there having a conversation. Shameless, you lay your head right on Mikey’s shoulder, ear near his lips.

“What a slut, getting all worked up with her father right there. What would he think if he knew the truth?” Mikey whispers. “If he knew I was the luckiest man in the world with a greedy slut like you as a girlfriend.”

“Daddy, it feels so good,” you whine back.

“I know, baby girl. You need me to talk you through it? Tell you to cum here and now?”

Beneath the blanket, his fingers trail inward until they find your panties beneath your skirt. The fabric is so damp, it hardly qualifies as a barrier anymore. When Mikey presses his forefinger inward, he’s able to press right into your clenching hole. His thumb slips up to jam down hard on your clit.

Your thighs start to tremble uncontrollably. The shaking rises and enters the pit of your stomach. It lights up your nipples and parts your lips.

Mindless, you don’t know what your father would observe if he chose to switch his attention over to you. Perhaps the blanket shifting damningly as you hump against Mikey’s hand. Perhaps the keening whine that comes from the back of your throat with seemingly no end. Perhaps the absolute pride of ownership that lights up Mikey’s face.

“Yeah, that’s right. Cum for me. Soak my hand,” Mikey hisses. “Soak my hand now, and later in the car, I’ll pound your wet pussy until you squirt again, this time around daddy’s cock.

Obedient to the end, you cum.

“Daddy!”

You twitch, and you convulse, and you almost push the egg right out of your cunt as it squeezes down powerfully. You would sing with pleasure if your voice wasn’t gone as your orgasm breaks in long waves that tighten every muscle in your body. Being so edged out, the pleasure lingers and caresses you long after it should end.

“Are you going to be sick?” your dad asks urgently, angling the phone away from his ear.

You realize you called out for Mikey a little too loudly and caught your father’s attention. At the same time, your mother returns from the kitchen. Mikey turns off the vibrator.

Pulling back from Mikey’s neck, you face your father. Tears have streamed down your face, leaving you with red rimmed eyes. Each breath comes out in a heavy pant. You look completely fucked out.

Or like you’re going to be sick.

“I’m sorry, Maruyama-san. She’s getting worse and worse. I should get her home now,” Mikey says.

“Oh no! Are you sure? We still have her old room if she needs to sleep,” your mother says.

“Thank you for the offer, but it’s alright,” Mikey says, and then smiles – a smile completely ill-fitting to the situation, one of almost pride. “After all, it’s my job to take care of her now.”

And, as Mikey leads you out with a proprietary and wet hand on the small of your back, you have no doubt that he will take very good care of you for the next several hours

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x reader smut #mikey smut #mikey x reader #manjiro sano x reader #manjiro sano smut #exhibitionism tw #daddy kink tw #degradation tw #embossross masterlist

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rebo-chan · 10 months ago

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Hello!!

You are absolutely not bothering me with the reblog, not at all!! But you are absolutely right, I totally agree!! The original post and this subsequent ask were a super feel good post so we were definitely looking at more of the sweeter actions to read here more than anything. But, there are also numerous actions that sort of imply a negative or at best morally grey interpretation of a character. To clarify, I should say that I'm not someone who sort of blindly dislikes Iemitsu. I totally understand that a lot of the bad baggage put on him is done by Tsuna and Tsuna alone, while he does do things that are generally considered good. (As you mentioned, finding Tsuna's mist guardian) I do actually think that Iemitsu DOES try to bond with Tsuna. In the anime, there's a scene at the start of Varia arc where Iemitsu asks Tsuna if he'd like to go catch their food together and Tsuna rejects. A lot of the hostility here is coming from Tsuna.

My point of the original post was that the bonds in KHR never really needed to outright say that characters were close but rather showed us it through its actions.

That being said, KHR is also good with actions that need more of a deeper look into them as you brought up or that may have that negative/morally grey connotation that I mentioned. For example, Tsuna killing Byakuran and not regretting it, Xanxus laughing when Squalo "died" during Varia arc, the first half of Enma's character arc, etc etc. These characters are not perfect even to each other all the time. Iemitsu included.

To explain what I said that you're responded, as I was talking about bonds originally rather than individual characters, Tsuna himself does not view Iemitsu as a great dad or a particularly present one when he needs him. He left, having Nana convince him that he was dead, and only seems to show up when it's convenient for him in TSUNA's eyes. Obviously, the audience gets a bit bigger of a picture in order to make more nuanced opinions of Iemitsu. But those two's bond while not necessarily nonexistent is a very fragile one that causes Tsuna a lot of issues. Specifically in Rainbow arc, where Reborn has to, as you mentioned, have Tsuna recheck his arrogance. Which is a whole other can of worms. I do think its safe to say that their bond is really messed up due to mistakes on both characters parts.

As for how the kind of Tsuna we see becomes someone like TYL Tsuna? An open question for sure. But from what we do see from Tsuna's actions, there can be some interpretations made. We see that Tsuna while being slow to anger does not HANDLE his anger well. Varia arc, seeing Timoteo in Gola Mosca and turning to Xanxus and saying he won't let him succeed the ninth. Future arc, obviously he kills Byakuran. Shimon arc, he agrees to the inheritance ceremony for the sake of avenging Yamamoto nothing else and then proceeds to snap at Enma saying that he's angry too and that Enma has made his friends suffer. Rainbow arc, the situation with Iemitsu, telling Byakuran that he didn't understand him even up to the end, snapping at Reborn telling him that if he wants the boss watch he's better try and take it from him and also calling Reborn a failure as a home tutor. We know TYL Tsuna was backed up against a wall in Future. We know he tried peaceful methods like getting rid of the Vongola rings. We also know that Millefiore targeted Yamamoto's Dad and ALL of the Arcobalenos. Which means that TYL Reborn was killed too. Based on how hard rainbow Tsuna fought for his Reborn and based on the fact that Tsuna does something as stupid as agreeing to the inheritance ceremony to avenge Yamamoto? Who's to say that in his wrath for losing his trusted mentor, he wouldn't come up with the plan he does? Definitely interesting to think about that though.

I hope I answered what you were going for? Please feel free to continue the convo if you want to ofc :]

I think one of my favourite moments in the series is the end of the storm battle. for one i am a die hard gokudera fan and in my opinion only the gamma fight surpasses it. And on the other-

The fact tsuna who is usually so reserved and just lets dera do his thing despite telling him quietly "you really don't have to"

Gets SO pissed at Gokudera for DARING to put his life on the line for this. A piece of jewelery and an empty title..

He calls it all meaningless if that means they cant just hang out together anymore.

Dera who links his own worth as a human being to his usefulness and position as a mafiosi is told "I just want you alive and by my side" in i think one of the most direct "this is the core of the whole series" moments we get.

When yamamoto faces ken he still holds back bc he doesnt want to get injured but as soon as TSUNA is in danger he says "fuck it" and gets serious.

In the shimon arc hibari picks up on tsunas depressive state and it annoys him so he changes that in his own way.

Its how mukuro in the rainbow trials cares for a tired fran.

Its how during the ring battles the girls and mama Sawada CONSTANTLY visit Lambo to make sure he is okay.

Its also how tsuna saves him in the first place. Fuck the rings, fuck the position, fuck this whole stupid arangement of fights- he has to save his family.

These people often get violent with each other and agressive, they bicker and they fight, but when the chips are down, all they care about is each other.

Most shounen protags have some kind of dream or goal, Tsuna just really really wants a quiet life and to spend that with his friends and family. The whole mafia buisness is just what he needs to do to keep that family he gained safe. Nothing tsuna EVER does is motivated by some ulterior motive for fame or riches. Its either him being FORCED into action bc he was literally kicked into it by reborn, or its because he has to resolve the situation to keep his friends and family safe.

The Caallone has a FUCKTON of members and so does the vongola and Tsuna really really really really REALLY doesnt care for any of that because in the end his own world is very small compared to the mafia.

I have to think of that one quote "why do you want to save this planet?" -"Because I live here!" for tsuna it would be "because my family lives here."

I mean be Tsuna isn't "heroic". Yeah he cares about other people and strangers, he helps old ladies, but when something is going on his go to isn't "I have to do something!" it's uauslly "man I hope SOMEONE does something. Not gonna be me tho!"

Sorry for the long ask i just wanted to rephrase what you said basically and send it back to you

HELLO AGAIN, thank you for the ask. Don't apologize at all for length, I'm absolutely foaming reading this.

I'm so glad you get what I was going for in the post. Those moments drive me insane. "They bicker and they fight but when the chips are down, all they care about is each other" and "Because my family lives here" I FEEL ABSOLUTELY INSANE ABOUT THESE LINES. You're so so right!!! The Vongola kids bully and tease and are nasty to each other, until it comes down to it and they fight tooth and nail for each other. Exactly what I was going for. The series doesn't need those scenes where Tsuna tells Gokudera he cares about him and they're warm and cuddly towards each other, bc it comes through in his words when meek and reserved Tsuna yells at him and tells him to stop trying to die for him or for some stupid ring. And I think that's so fun!! All the other stuff you listed also drives me so insane. For yamamoto, him letting himself get injured for Tsuna's sake was so good and Tsuna's love for Yamamoto shone through there too because Tsuna saw the injury and felt such immense guilt only apologizing for ruining everything for Yamamoto. Only for Yamamoto to go "No, I'm fine. As long as YOU'RE safe" like that's so good???

The Hibari thing?? How he sees Tsuna's depressed state over it all and all he says to comfort him is "Watch me." because that's all he could understand about the situation. That if he wins his fight, somehow Tsuna will cheer up. and its just so???? GOD ITS JUST SO FULL OF LOVE. Every character in this series shows love in their own ways and it drives me maddd

Mukuro taking care of a tired child too doesn't surprise me with his backstory. He's so gentle with people that are in "his care" even if he won't actively admit it.

The girls as well I'm so glad you pointed them out!! We so like to ignore them in this fandom and thats so sad bc the series makes it really clear that they are part of this equation too. That without their support, the fighters would not have made it. Tsuna could relax knowing Mama Sawada and the girls were watching Lambo and focus on his fight. And during future, he could focus on his training. Not to mention, they're just so supportive especially after they find out what's going on. The boycott episode and its resolution are some of my favorite scenes in Future, it makes me insane that the show gave the girls a Moment to remind us that they too are both deeply loved and ALSO love the boys just the same.

You're so right about Tsuna not being heroic, hell even in Shimon arc Enma is being bullied right infront of him and its Reborn that has to be like "STOP OR SAWADA TSUNAYOSHI WILL HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!!" He's kindhearted and he's got a good moral compass.. It's hard to explain, but you basically have to be IN Tsuna's circle for you to get that sort of "I will die for you" behavior kksjng otherwise he sorta reverts back to his "who me? im just a 14 yr old boy im nobody"

Thank you for sharing Lou (Or eternitas, whatever you'd prefer!) Spreading my own brain rot back at me very nice :^)

#longpost

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soracities · 3 years ago

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i started crying when i read all of your kind words, thank you so much. this might be the first time someone told me that a failed exam doesn't matter in my life. i'm just scared at being yelled at by my teacher in front of everyone.

- 15yo anon.

(cont’d /2) its 10pm right now, and i have school at 7am tomorrow. i'm sorry for this ask, it's just that i sat down and realised no adult has been kind to me in the way i need. your responses are still making me cry tears of joy and hope.

that being said-

i'm scared since it's the first time i'm going to in-person school in a long time, it's the first time i've failed an exam, and i know my tuition teacher will later yell at me in front of twenty other kids and i don't know.... maybe my scholarship is being taken away. i'm terrified.

i don't even plan on taking math next year and i'm furious at how my bad grades in math dictate whether i get a scholarship to study liberal arts and social study next year. i was so excited to study at my new school next year.

i don't know what i'll do when i get yelled at, because crying means i'll only get scolded harder or slapped.

i just want to go to art school or syudy history when i'm 18 i hate the way this one exam is making me thinking whether i'm a dissapointment and should have died at birth or something.

and it's even more fucking silly, because i got a 47% in math last time, had to take a retest and then i got 89%. i barely even remember that. i'm certain i won't remember my bad grades in a few years, and yet right now i'm just.... so scared.

i'm really, really, really sorry for these three asks. i hope i didn't take too much of your time/effort. i'm sorry for being a bother.

/3) also it felt nice when you called me a kid in the tags. everyone tells me fifteen is so grown up and adult-like. i've always known that fifteen is nothing compared to 26, 30, 39, 50 etc etc, but being called a fully grown teenager and young adult by everyone made me forget i'm just a little kid who's trying his best.

i don’t know where you are in the world or what your education system is like there in that your teacher can get away with something like this but i am telling you right now that under no circumstances does your tutor (or anyone) have the right to yell at you or physically assault you in any way whatsoever no matter how they try to justify it or how much the environment you’re in allows it: your teacher is an asshole. pure and simple. and absolutely no part of how they respond or treat you is your fault in this and i really, really, really need you to believe this and tell yourself this over and over if you have to until you believe it as readily as your own hearbeat because it is absolutely, entirely true. their responsibility here is far bigger than yours. if your student is struggling it is your job, as a teacher and also as the actual literal adult to address that appropriately, not punish and belittle and berate for something as simple as a bad grade my god.

i don’t know if anyone has told you this yet, maybe they have because it seems like such an obvious thing but it was something i know would have made my life so much easier if i had learnt it earlier: but if you are going to get better at something, if you are going to grow and learn anything, you have to fail--you need to fail -- so you can know where and what to improve on, what to do and what not to do and crucially, move beyond the familiar and comfortable spheres you’ve already made a home in. this is what will make you better, more confident, more resilient and capable in the long run, whether its in academics or anything else. your failures need to become far more valuable to you than your successes because of all the potential they are holding for you, all the things you can learn from them and the person you can become as a result. and these failures need to happen in an environment where you are not punished for them. any teacher who actively makes you feel like you, as a human being, are a disappointment and not worth anything because of this (which happens to literally everyone at some point) is someone who is, once again, an utter Asshole, and someone who is actively sacrificing your growth as a student and your very wellbeing for the sake of some warped and dehumanizing excuse for an education that assigns merit to nothing else except for how well you can tolerate stress you do not deserve to be put through in the first place.

again, i don’t know where you are, or what your school system is like, so i don’t know what or who will be available for you to go to and talk to so that you can at least get some practical and immediate information or advice that might give you perspective and help make this less frightening because you don’t deserve to be put through all this. like, i can’t stress enough how entirely out of line your teacher is here and i’m so so sorry that you haven’t had adults around you to give you the support, protection, and assurance you need and should be getting in what it sounds like such an unbearably stressful and traumatising environment. all i can really say to you that i hope can help and comfort you a little is that since your ask i’ve had a few others send their own experiences in which i’ll publish as i get the chance to, and if you get nothing else from all this please, please know that you are not alone and not a failure -- not ever a failure -- and that even if it is coming from nameless and faceless strangers, you are sharing a space in this world with people who understand what you are going through and have come out of it or are coming out of it and sending love and support to you so that you know, or at least can hopefully see one day, that you will come out of it, too.

and also, yes, you are absolutely a kid and the idea that you are adult-like at 15 is laughable to me like oh my god...yes you are gaining more responsibilities and expectations which are important to learn to navigate but you are also still very much a kid, and i literally do not know a single person my age who thinks of themselves as anything other than that at 15; i see a photo of myself from school and am immediately in Mom Mode so believe me: you are so, so, so young and you have so, so, so much yet to learn and see and you are absolutely trying your best, you are, you are, you are. and even if you feel that no one around you believes it, i believe it for whatever that is worth and i’ll keep on doing so. sending you oceans of love, anon. i hope you can feel it ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

#genuinely genuinely am livid at your teacher this is.....jesus christ #and you are not a bother!!!! you are dealing with so much and trying your best and looking for some kind of comfort and assurance #AND YOU ARE ALLOWED TO FEEL THIS WAY #so please dont apologise just please please please remind yourself every chance you get that you matter and are not a failure #or a disappointment #write it out and tape it to your wall and read it every night before bed and every morning because you are worth so much more than this #no matter what ANYONE tells you #ask #anonymous #notes from elsewhere

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itoldsunset · 4 years ago

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the more i sit on it the more it makes sense to me that 21-year-old teh is vastly different (yet in other ways, very much the same) from the 18-year-old teh who woke up at 4am to help oh-aew study, who tutored oh-aew, gave him all his books and flashcards, and gave up his spot for oh-aew. because high school teh had dreams and a vision, and college teh has been beaten down by the real world and is growing more frantic that that vision will never come true.

21-year-old oh-aew is doing AMAZING, found a major that he enjoys and is getting A's in, found a group of friends who get him, is independent and driving himself around the city in his new car, and becoming more comfortable with who he is. he no longer needs teh to help him get good grades. he no longer needs to ride in the back of teh's motorcycle to get around the city. he is living his best life. oh-aew is literally all the things you don't want to be around when you're a miserable mess of a human being.

meanwhile 21-year-old teh has not been cast for a single role, feels nothing but abandonment because he has one friend/mentor left at school since the other two graduated, is devoting all his time and energy into a career that looks like it will no longer pan out, had his one idol "abandon" this dream which makes him doubt even more whether he's actually on the right path, and worst of all cannot seem to perform his role as the lead actor in his mentor's play which probably feels like his last shot to prove himself.

teh at 21 has nothing to offer oh-aew in the way he did when they were 18, and he feels that and he hates it, because it reminds him of how much of a failure he thinks he is. he can barely compliment oh-aew for getting an A on his assignment. it wouldn't surprise me if oh-aew brings home good news like that all the time, meanwhile all teh has to offer is, "went to another casting, didn't get it again." it's lowkey another form of jealousy, not in the rivalry way like we saw in itsay, but a sadder, dejected kind of jealousy that makes you feel like you don't want to hear about their day and you wish they wouldn't ask you about yours. failure is alienating as hell.

so he keeps building distance between them which is something you do when the world moves on and you're stuck in a standstill, and it's a feeling i know because it was me avoiding my friends for a whole ass year while i was unemployed after getting laid off. there was a whole fucking year of my life that i barely even remember. there is an inexplicable pain of having to answer simple questions like "how are you?" or "what have you been up to lately?" when your career has gone to shit and you feel like you've accomplished nothing and are going nowhere in life, especially as the people around you are making moves and going places. it is especially harder when it's the people who love you, because as bad as it feels to know you're a failure, it's even worse if you let them see you that way too. teh sees oh-aew moving up in life while he keeps sinking further into the ground. and promise or no promise, there is a real insecurity that once you get found out for what a loser you are, the people in your life are gonna leave.

obviously none of that excuses the cheating because nothing does. but it explains how teh created so much distance between him and oh-aew in the first place, distance that led him to get as swept up with jai as he did. teh going to the plays alone? not really paying attention to oh-aew? taking oh-aew for granted? not out of character at all. makes a lot more sense now when i think about what an absolute wreck he is at this current stage in his life. he is absolutely broken and maybe you also have to have been that broken to recognize it. there are a lot of things they could have done to show it better [like for example, having teh narrate oh-aew's new changes was a missed opportunity to show, not tell the audience] but overall he's still very much the same teh, just in a much worse off place than he was in itsay.

the more i sit with it the more i realize p'meen and co have no mercy on the audience, so it makes sense ipytm is not meeting many of our expectations. it is very classic nadao to play with the audience's feelings, but they definitely went too far with the experimentation this time because after four days i still can't log on to twitter without seeing the backlash. and as much as people want to blame p'meen and the new team, p'boss and p'yong are producers on the show and i don't believe for a second they would green light this storyline if they had big misgivings about it. [p'yong is literally the reason we got a coming out scene with hoon in itsay, since it wasn't in the original script. they don't let anything fly by. so the lazy writing comments?? i don't buy it.]

nadao took a risk here that they could sucker punch the audience with episode three and still count on people to come back for some big reveal in episode four. they lost some folks, maybe more than expected, but i'm assuming they made the executive decision that whatever happens in the last two episodes is going to make up for the emotional damage of episode three, and i will wait and see if they were right.

#ipytm #i promised you the moon #itsay #i told sunset about you #textpost

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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I am briefly pausing my normal RWBY content to talk about something completely different: Kang Soo-Jin.

I binged True Beauty recently. As in, “I haven’t managed to watch anything new in half a year, discovered this drama, and promptly marathoned 14+ hours of content,” so to say I’m enjoying it is an understatement. I might do another post sometime about why I think the show works so well, but for now, like many (drama only) viewers, I’m specifically grappling with Soo-Jin’s descent into antagonist territory. At first I was just as shocked and disappointed as others seem to be, but upon reflection I don’t think this is badly written in the way many fans are claiming. To frame this as, “I can’t believe they would make wonderful Soo-Jin suddenly OOC and bully Ju-Kyung over a guy!” is ignoring core parts of her character. I’m as sick of the girl-hates-girl-over-guy plotline as the next viewer, but in the interest of acknowledging that there are exceptions to every rule, I think this is one of the times where that choice makes perfect sense.

Soo-Jin has been abused throughout her life and I’m not simply talking about the fact that her father hits her. Though that’s obviously horrific, what I think is more pertinent to this conversation is the intense competitiveness her parents have instilled in her. The physical abuse comes about because Soo-Jin fails (in their eyes) to be the best, which is where Ju-Kyung comes in. The Soo-Jin we knew in earlier episodes wasn’t faking. She isn’t an inherently evil person who was just waiting for the right time to show her true colors. Rather, at the start of the story Ju-Kyung—crucially—was not in competition with Soo-Jin. Or rather, Soo-Jin did not perceive her as competition. She’s after the best grades in the school and Ju-Kyung is notoriously at the bottom of the class. All she has going for her are her (new) looks and her easy-going personality that makes her popular, two things that Soo-Jin isn’t interested in. Even if she were, those things already come naturally to her too. She’s already friends with Soo-A and, as is commented on multiple times, naturally beautiful without any makeup on. Soo-Jin has been taught—literally had it beaten into her—that she must be the best and in the beginning of the show she pretty much is: popular, mature, confident, smart… just not the smartest in her class. Ju-Kyung doesn’t threaten any of that, so friendship initially comes easily for Soo-Jin, the sort of friendship that allows her to chase perverts off busses or hide her friend’s real face.

This changes once Soo-Jin’s “perfect” mask begins to slip. They’re heading towards college, she’s running out of time, and she still hasn’t managed to take the top spot in the class. Worse, she drops out of the top ten. This exacerbates the abuse to the point where, as we see, she’s constantly in the bathroom trying to cope by washing her hands. Any tiny deviation from that “perfection” — like, say, leaving your tutoring session when you realize your lifelong friend just got devastating news — results in the sort of yelling/physical abuse she can only escape from via a locked door. While things get worse on her end, they get better on Ju-Jyung’s. Her grades go up some and she becomes even more popular, attracting not only school-wide attention, but the attention of the two hottest guys too, including Soo-Ho. For a while this is still fine from Soo-Jin’s perspective, but things really take a turn when Ju-Kyung changes Soo-Ho. Meaning, she helps him come out of his shell and teaches him how to be a kinder person… which includes being a better friend to Soo-Jin. The Soo-Ho who suddenly lies and announces that they have to go study just to get Soo-Jin away from her father’s insults, all of it stemming from a small tick he paid attention to, or comforting her while she sobs over the abuse… that Soo-Ho didn’t exist at the story’s start. He was too wrapped up in his own grief and has been that way for a long time. They may have known each other since childhood, but Soo-Jin and Soo-Ho don’t appear to be particularly close in the past—all Soo-Ho’s flashbacks are with Seo-Joon and Se-Yeon. But that starts to change once Soo-Ho himself changes. Soo-Jin’s ability to keep it together is unraveling, Soo-Ho is opening up and becoming more emotionally available (something Soo-Jin even comments on), then her whole class starts eagerly talking up how good they would be as a couple… so Soo-Jin sees a lifeline. Soo-Ho will care for her even when no one else will. Of course he will. She’s already seen him be that person multiple times.

The problem is that Soo-Ho has his own life and his own problems to grapple with. Between grief over See-Yeon, panic over telling Ju-Kyung how he feels, and the initial rush of dating—what couple doesn’t want to spend all their time together at the start?—he doesn’t have much energy for Soo-Jin. Which from his perspective is fine. They don’t normally hang out together outside of study groups, so yeah, he can put off a conversation with her… not realizing that Soo-Jin is now putting all her emotional eggs in his basket. By the time her feelings are coming to light, Soo-Jin is actively sabotaging her own attempts to get attention and compassion from Soo-Jin. By manipulating them—here’s a new scrunchy to remind you that you’re my best friend and you can’t ever betray me, here I am showing up unannounced at your apartment and guilting you into not spending more time with me, etc.—Soo-Jin has put Soo-Ho (rightfully) on his guard. He’s wary of having a private conversation with her about something she won’t name when he knows Ju-Kyung has been a mess over losing her friendship. He has no desire to listen to her confession of love after she’s just tossed Ju-Kyung’s beloved necklace into the fire. In her efforts to ensure that Soo-Ho pays attention to her, she only succeeds in driving him away.

All of which makes Ju-Kyung the enemy in her eyes. The new competition. To her mind, friendship and love cannot co-exist because Ju-Kyung stands in the way of that love, therefore one has got to go. (In contrast Seo-Joon, coming from a loving family, is in time better able to accept that he can be friends with Soo-Ho even though he likes Ju-Kyung. We can discuss the problems inherent in giving one plot to the girl and the other to the guy, but as they are, these characters have concrete, in-world reasons for their different reactions to what’s essentially the same situation.) And why does love (“love”) win out over friendship? Because Soo-Jin has latched onto Soo-Ho being her boyfriend as the way to finally “win” at life and fix all her problems. It’s fine if she’s not the best provided she’s dating the best, just look at how much Dad fawned over him. Second place academically is suddenly an option provided the top student is on her team, so to speak. The fact that Soo-Ho is also one of the most handsome, a great athlete, super rich, and one of the few people to provide her with feelings of safety certainly doesn’t hurt matters. And the only thing that stands in her way of securing this life-saving “win” is Ju-Kyung. Who is she? No one compared to Soo-Jin. Her grades are terrible. She’s not wealthy. She’s pretty… but oh, only with her makeup on.

Soo-Jin doesn’t need makeup, so why not win this competition by showing the whole school—showing Soo-Ho—what a fraud Ju-Kyung is?

From Soo-Jin’s perspective she’s done the math and come out on top. Everything that (supposedly) matters she either has equal to Ju-Kyung, or is superior, therefore it’s obvious that Soo-Ho would choose her in the end. She says at much: If I had confessed first you would have loved me first, so now that I have confessed you’ll break up with her. Hell, even Ju-Kyung believes this. She has the nightmare about Soo-Ho learning that Soo-Jin has feelings for him and immediately, publicly breaking up with her. After all, if he suddenly has both as an option the winner is obvious, right? It’s all about competition, what they’ve been taught to believe is a competition: Ju-Kyung through her bullying and Soo-Jin through her abuse. The difference is that Ju-Kyung has had the whole series with Soo-Ho (and others) helping her slowly unlearn this mentality. Soo-Jin had the rug pulled out from under her in an instant.

Soo-Ho says no, I wouldn’t have loved you if you had confessed first and I’m not going to date you now. It’s important to realize that this shatters Soo-Jin’s entire world. It’s not about a girl being upset that she can’t get the guy — not even about Soo-Ho as an individual, really — it’s about an abused girl not knowing how to grapple with the fact that she finally did everything “right” and still couldn’t “win,” coupled with losing the last bit of security she had. Soo-Ho broke the unspoken rules Soo-Jin’s father beat into her and she doesn’t know where to go from there. She literally has no one else to turn to. So she falls back on the only way she does know how to handle a situation like this: by still trying to win. If Soo-Ho won’t admit that she’s better, she’ll force him to realize that by plastering Ju-Kyung’s “ugly” face all over social media. Which, to be clear, isn’t an excuse. This isn’t meant to be a way of absolving Soo-Jin of her absolutely horrific actions, only a means of explaining them. Her descent, while shocking to those of us who loved her initial character, is well written because it’s a nuanced look at what can happen when you abuse a kid her whole life and teach her that competition is everything. Oddly enough, she’ll apply a competitive outlook to everything and deal with her stress in unhealthy ways. Ju-Kyung is a victim of Soo-Jin now, but Soo-Jin is a victim too. Her home life has ensured that she does not know how to accept failure—or what true failure even means—so it was inevitable that when things got bad, she’d try to fix it in ways that hurt both her and those around her. It’s all she knows how to do.

So far less “Perfect girl goes ooc and abandons her friend over a boy” and far more “Abused girl falls into a terrible, but predictable cycle that the other stressed high schoolers around her are not equipped to break.” Soo-Jin’s story isn’t bad writing, it’s tragic. Thanks for coming to my three page TED talk ✌️

***

2/4/21 FINALE UPDATE!

#abuse tw #true beauty #kang soojin #mymetas #true beauty spoilers

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thegingeralien · 4 years ago

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Thought I might share my “doing homework with adhd” tips in case the might help even just one person (because that would make me feel happy).

Who am I to be giving you advice? Good point! I am still terrible at studying and I’m 26 and at University for the millionth time. But I have studied A LOT in my 22 years of schooling with varying degrees of success.

I see a lot of people, especially teenagers or first year university/college students, with ADHD asking for tips on how to study. But if you do a google search most of the websites and advice that comes up can be extremely ableist. So I hope I can help someone!

TIPS TO HELP YOU STUDY WHEN YOU HAVE AN ADHD GREMLIN BRAIN!:

1. Chewing gum!

- This might come across as a weird one, but it has actually really helped me. I use it as a form of stimming to help keep me focused and concentrating. Other forms of stimming can potentially end up being more of a distraction when you actually need to be reading or writing - but they can help if you just need to be listening. Try not to get a bubble gum or fun flavoured one though - as they can end up making your mouth feel dry, lose flavour quickly, and just give your brain way too many sensory things to become distracted with.

2. Buying colour coded stationary!

- New stationary can make me really excited to start studying, but that excitement never lasts long and the act of buying stationary can sometimes become it’s own hobby. That’s not what we are going for here. I really recommend, especially if you are a visual learner like me, to buy colour coded stationary. This means removable page markers, different coloured post it notes, highlighters, sometimes even pens. This way if your mind jumps from one topic to the other, it doesn’t matter. Go with the flow. Forcing your ADHD gremlin brain to focus can be extremely counter intuitive. So pick a colour for each topic, and stick to that system to find organisation among your own chaos!

3. Buy a really cheap, boring year diary with hardly any writing inside.

- Not sure if your school/university has their own diary but they can be perfect for what I am on about. Generally you can find them for really cheap, soft cover, no writing or designs within the dates. Just dates, days, weeks and lines where you can write your homework. This helped me a lot in High School. I wish I had kept doing it in University, but I am good with giving advice, and not so much with taking it. I used to decorate the outside of it however I wanted. Some years I would redecorate the same diary every semester. In the public holidays or holiday days I would colour those lines in with different highlighters to make it look like a rainbow. But every assignment due date, homework, draft, rewrite, form I had to bring back, library book due date, school activity days, ANYTHING to do with school I would write in there with reminds and check lists. Important due dates would be highlighted, general homework and daily to do lists t(o help me not leave my assignments to the last minute) would have a tick box beside them (because ticking tick boxes is free dopamine). Try to not put birthdays or fun things in it. This is a small way to stay on track so it helps you actually stay on track with the big things when you’re home.

4. Big whiteboards stuck on the wall where you can’t avoid it.

- This is not something I had in school, but I so wish I did. I have been using this recently to keep on top of house work (as maintaining your own house is tiring) and my small business or other things I really can’t avoid. If I physically write it down (not just in my phone) it psychologically does help you commit it to memory. Again, physically putting a line through a task you just completed is a hecking great rush of dopamine. But the biggest reason I love my white board, I can’t ignore it. It is stuck to the wall and is never out of sight, out of mind. I can’t put my phone or diary down and then refuse to look at it until I’m past the due date. Again, I’m not a perfect person, there are days where I don’t do anything I have written on the white board. But the great thing is, I don’t have to continuously feel like I failure, as I can wipe it all off the next morning or week and start fresh. I also put important things I have to remember that I’m doing during the week so I don’t forget them.

5. Icky Medication.

- I know not everyone wants to be on medication, and I understand. I am not forcing you to. No matter what your opinions are, you lovely gremlin who is still reading this post, regarding medication, you are valid and I respect you. My personal experience with medication has not been the best. I have been misdiagnosed for a severe chunk of my academic life which has seen me trying to focus and maintain school work under some even worse states then I am unmedicated! However, since receiving my diagnosis and finding the right ADHD medication for me, I have the ability to get so much work done without having to unnecessarily struggle. It’s unfortunately not magic, it will not turn me into a robot that makes me do work and turn out incredible, noble peace prize winning assignments (as much as I wish that were possible). I still have the ability to be a lump, doom scrolling through tumblr, forgetting to eat, and ignoring responsibilities. But it really helps me when I sit down and start that thing that isn’t fun. Yesterday it helped me hyperfocus on cleaning my office which was a terrifying room to be in. So it’s pretty close to magic in my opinion!

6. Accessing Disability Support at your place of learning.

- Not all of you taking the time to read this will have either a) an offical diagnosis or b) a good disability support available to you wherever you are completing your studies. And that is okay. This dot point just won’t be for you right now. But keep it in mind for a time when it might apply to you, as it’s something I never thought I would need, but will never take for granted ever again.

- If you have an offical diagnosis and Disability Support, make an appointment with the disability support adviser. DO IT NOW! Get your psychiatrist to write a diagnosis letter outlining that you have <enter superpower that makes you hilarious here> and that you are receiving <enter x,y,z treatment here> and that you would benefit from receiving <enter what you have always wished you had on the days you can’t make your ADHD gremlin brain do the thing here>. Now these benefits can be, but not limit to: automatic extensions on ALL assignments, extra time on exams, extra breaks to walk around while taking exams, special consideration when marking assignments, my university allows me to take exams in a separate room with only the other students in my subject who also have disability support (occasionally I have taken an exam alone with only a tutor present) so I don’t get distracted, permission to take fidget items into class or exam (I have the option to wear headphones, as long as I can display that they are not connected to anything). Maybe you can come up with some great ones for you with your disability advisor or your psychiatrist.

- The disability advisor will often go through your course outline with you at the start of each semester or year. This is annoying and a great time for disassociating, but can be useful in hindsight because you are made aware of everything that will come up during your class so you are not surprised. Because lets be honest, it is unlikely you are going to look at the course calendar too often.

- Side Note: I make an appointment every semester with my disability support officer for my area of study to make sure I have my special considerations for the year. Now I may go through the whole year without ever using my considerations. However, the fact that I know they are there takes an insane amount of pressure off of myself. If I’m having an insanely screwy loony tune mental health moment, I can email my coordinator my disability plan and say I need an extension due to personal reasons, and WHOOP, there it izzzzz.

7. Dedicated one thing or a few things that have nothing to do with food/alcohol/other substances to reward yourself with for doing the thing!

- This may not work for everyone. It doesn’t always work for me. I used to reward myself with food, but that only reinforced my stimming with overeating and my already bad relationship with food. And I feel as though that would be the same with any other substance that can be linked with addiction. (Addiction is a tough word, cause what aren’t I addicted to, I have ADHD, but hopefully you get what I mean!).

-Now, boring try and not choose this aside, lets think of somethings that work really well as rewards!

- My partner likes to come give me a kiss and a hug when ever they have written and reread a paragraph, you might buy a book when you get a really good mark, you might want to go make a cup of tea and watch an episode of your hyperfixation after studying for <enter a good period of time here>, you might allow yourself to partake in an activity you usually do while procrastinating (but at least this time you know you aren’t putting something off), talk to someone who you know will tell you they are proud of you as they understand the mental struggle you go through to concentrate (if you can’t think of anyone, it is 110% okay if that person are the amazing people on tumblr or the adhd tumblr chats. We will freaking pop a bottle of champagne for you cause we get it!).

- Try and make what ever you choose be something in a different room or away from your working space. Getting out can really calm you down.

8. Don’t be afraid to ask for assistance.

- This is true for anything, but I don’t mean just asking your teacher to give you extra help understanding the task and marking rubric. Many people online, tutors, librarians at your school, past or present students offer assistance rereading and making small edits (they won’t make it magical unfortunately) to your assignments. If you are like me and once you have written or completed the dreaded thing, you can not imagine or force your gremlin brain reread or edit the thing. So it can help to just delegate this to someone else, who hasn’t read it before, so they won’t disassociate or skim read it. They will often notice things you never would have even if you were neurotypical as that is just what happens when you have been working on something for so long.

9. Repetitive music.

- It generally helps if this has no lyrics. Lo-fi is amazing. Classical is alright too if it works for you, but both my partner and I agree that it can really assist you to keep up pace and focus when the beat is a high and repetitive (almost meditative) tempo.

10. Limit your screen space.

- This is a tip completely from my partner @dr-adhd who also has ADHD, is an avid PC gamer and is consistently in a battle with their gremlin brain to focus on completing their PhD. They have discovered that it really helps them to limit their screen space - simply put, work on one screen only. They have done more work more easily when they have their one screen on their laptop to focus on. Whereas their office has multiple screens so they could be playing runescape, watching YouTube, listening to lo-fi and doing work - which never worked (shocking right hahaha).

11. At the risk of sounding like a Mum... Put your phone and other electronics other than the assignment necessary one, away.

- I am a Mum, but to a fluffy puppy dog, so I hate to sound like my Mum when I was in high school, but she was right. Mobiles are the single easiest and biggest distraction in ADHD history. I often, even at coffee shops, have to turn my phone over so that I am not consistently looking at it every time the screen lights up to say the pizza place has sent me a coupon, or a carpet place that has been having a sale since I was born is... still having a sale, or a friend from school wants you to watch this TikTok. Even though you might not want to ignore your friends, because people pleasing, difficulting making/keeping friends and RSD are hecking real things, but they can all wait. Trust me, none of them are urgent. That TikTok will still be funny in an hour or two. And I’m probably completely right when I say that whomever just messaged you, never replies as quickly as you want them too. So I doubt they are going to think twice if you are MIA to finish your thing.

My partner or I might add to this later, but at the moment I already know that I probably wouldn’t read this wall of words if I was the one reading it, so if you are still with me, THANK YOU and I really hope I might have helped you. Sorry for the mound of words, but maybe you can reblog, screen shot, or save this and read a dot point at a time or refer to it when you need. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, I promise what ever it is, I’ve asked the same thing once in my life or something MUCH stupider.

#ADHD #Study tips #actually adhd #autistic #adhd #neurodivergent #adhd study tips #advice #adhdstudytips #studying with adhd #adhd advice #ask adhd #adhd mood #adhd life #adhd vibe #disability support #uni support #school advice

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the-last-kenobi · 4 years ago

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Sunlight and Seashells (both are broken)

What is affection in a relationship forced into being by the whims of others?

What was affection?

Even in a culture where attachments were forbidden and relationships beyond friendship and mentorship discouraged, the answer to that question had once come easily to Obi-Wan.

Affection was the brightness in the aura of his tiny clanmates when they offered one another hands to touch and hold in comfort, in their high voices when they gave greetings and farewells.

Affection was the embrace of his creche master, the softness of their voice when they explained things he did not understand at first, the steadiness of their arms when they soothed his fevers and nightmares.

Affection was the warmth of Bant’s smile when she saw him and the way her arms fit about his body when she flung them around him in a joyful embrace.

Affection was the way Garen would clap him on the shoulder when he spoke - in solidarity, in reprimand, in greeting, in humor, in congratulations.

It was the way Reeft would save him food he knew he liked from the commissary and the way he walked close to Obi-Wan in the hallways, to shield him from bullies and be shielded in equal measure.

It was the way Siri punched his shoulder when he said anything, and the firmness of her grip when she helped him to his feet after a spar, or vice versa.

It was the conversations late into the night, the inside jokes and quips, the bolstering comments during a trial, the delighted praise after a victory, and bracing reassurance after a failure.

It was the light of suns and the exhilaration of certainty.

...

It was.

Once.

...

After Bandomeer -

After a fight started by a bully who managed to play victim, after being kicked out of his only home weeks ahead of schedule, after being harshly rejected by his last hope for a teacher, after being attacked by Hutts, fought by pirates, tricked by a jealous Darksider and enslaved on a deep sea mine -

After offering his life in exchange for the lives of innocents, and being praised for his Jedi-like heart by the same man who had dismissed him as too angry and too selfish -

After days of ups and downs, of Qui-Gon Jinn drawing near to him and then away again, of his strong hands bringing Obi-Wan back from bruises and breakages after Hutts and then again after slavers, of his cold stare before and after and in between -

Obi-Wan doesn’t know, anymore.

The gap between Master and Padawan is so broad.

No matter how close they stand, they’re never standing together. Even with the maverick Jedi’s hand on his shoulder, Obi-Wan doesn’t know what it means to have the man’s support.

No matter how often they speak, they never seem to speak on precisely the same level. Like branches shaken in a breeze, they bump and rustle against one another with accidental harshness, grating and scraping - sometimes, briefly, locking together.

And sometimes, even more briefly, they settle.

Stretching towards the same sun.

Qui-Gon tells him, “We will practice the basics to perfection, Padawan.”

Perfection is never reached.

Obi-Wan’s limbs have sketched the katas so often he can feel the motion down to his bones merely by thinking about it. He knows his every failure, every repeated stumble, just as well.

...

He raises his grades, and then raises them again.

Food is exchanged for tutoring and meditation, sleep for studying.

He asks his Master, “What do I have to do to be perfect?”

Qui-Gon only frowns, and once again, they have spoken past one another, neither one of them understanding.

After Melida/Daan, things are broken and stretched beyond belief.

Qui-Gon suddenly offers comfort and apologies, but still, still he will not allow Obi-Wan to move on.

“You need to reflect and learn,” he says during katas, but his eyes have the shadows of their broken partnership within them.

Obi-Wan dwells on katas and his failures, and feels he learns nothing.

...

Over the first two years of their partnership, they face Hutts, thieves, mind-wiping tyrants, bounty hunters, fools, insurgent groups, and terrorists.

They brush with death every day.

They hover on the brink of a broken apprenticeship almost as often, lightened only by moments of unity and humor, where a common chord is struck.

Out of all the monsters and terrors they encounter, undaunted, it is surprising - and yet fitting - that what brings them together is the threat of separation.

They’re on a minor mission to a small, sparsely populated system on the regions skirting the borders of the Republic itself, and they make landing on a forested sphere where it rains nine days out of ten. There are no terrorists, no pirates, no tricks.

There are, however, deadly lightning strikes in a violent storm, and they go separate ways in the dark.

Obi-Wan tracks himself through the forests, his focus absolute, his determination unswayed by the rain driven so hard by the winds that it blows sideways and with enough force to sting his skin through his sodden robes. Without stars or compass or signs he flings himself into calculations and plottings and runs, runs, with all the passion of a Jedi. But his mind is not on his mission. He thinks to himself, If I can only reach the capitol, Qui-Gon will be there. I will not let him down.

Little does he know that miles away, Qui-Gon Jinn is meditating in a hollow cave, pressed against the stone, forming himself against the weathered walls. He flings himself into the winding paths of the Force, its whispers and tangled threads, and strides through mud and storm towards the capitol, thinking to himself, Obi-Wan will not let me down. I must not abandon him again. The Force will lead me back to him, it always has.

...

Afterwards, Obi-Wan has an answer -

Affection, here, is Qui-Gon’s signature in the Force reaching, reaching out to him like a plant stretching towards sunlight, but stronger, more protective - a hand plunged into icy depths to rescue to drowning man below.

It is a Jedi Master infamous for rule-bending and for not wanting an apprentice, for pulling people in and then pushing them away, drawing him into a one-armed and muddied embrace, steadying the boy and searching him for injuries in one movement.

It is the pride and relief in his blue eyes, though he does not put them to words.

It is the way Qui-Gon pauses outside his Padawan’s door that night, gently checking on him through their bond, and the soft glow of warmth that passes even into the boy’s sleeping mind, soothing troubled dreams before they even occur.

...

Afterwards, Obi-Wan finds more answers, sometimes rare, sometimes strange - even a little broken - like seashells washed upon the shore for him to find.

He gathers them in his hands and holds them tight to his chest.

Affection is Qui-Gon’s presence at Obi-Wan’s every sparring tournament, silent and steady in the background.

Affection is his Master waiting for him in the seating room of their quarters after every day of exams and trials with his favorite tea already on the stove, miraculously steamed to perfection just as the weary Padawan returned. Triumphant or not, content or not, Obi-Wan would sit with Qui-Gon Jinn and share completely different teas in comfortable silence, the scents of the different brews mingling pleasantly on the air.

Affection is the way that Qui-Gon teaches him to bandage his own wounds, with and without bacta, ever patient. He shows no judgement and no hesitation in the face of the boy’s muffled hisses and tears, his callused hands gentle on Obi-Wan’s smaller ones as he guides his apprentice through sutures.

Affection is the way Qui-Gon throws his head back at Obi-Wan’s jests, where in public his response to humor is a sly smile and a tilt of the head.

It is the way the man refuses to allow certain Masters to influence Obi-Wan’s training in any way.

And it is in the way Obi-Wan tells his Master about his day without being asked, turning it into an anecdote that makes the older man’s eyes twinkle.

In the way Obi-Wan offers to brush back and tie Qui-Gon’s hair when his Master is too injured or too tired to do it himself, or simply when he seems to need a reason to have his apprentice by his side after the mission is complete and the time for separation would come.

In the way the Padawan crafts his saber in his Master’s saber’s image.

In the way he strides one step in Qui-Gon’s wake at all times, a show of humility and learning as much as it is a way to guard the man’s back.

But mostly, affection in the Master-Padawan pairing that some might say should never have come to be was simply that they were.

In so many ways opposites, after so many times where they had grated and clashed and walked separate ways, they always returned to each other, driven by the Force and by things just as deep and powerful and perhaps more nameless.

Friendship, perhaps.

Love, even.

They did not speak of it.

They did not need to.

Qui-Gon simply trusted the Force to guide him back towards the sun, the stars; Obi-Wan trailed in his wake, gathering seashells and cradling them like treasures beyond reckoning.

And always, always, they circled back together, a wayward Master and a straightforward Padawan, by destiny and choice.

...

"Promise me you’ll train the boy,” gasps the dying Master.

“Yes, Master,” swears the Padawan.

There is no devotion in these words, only fear and desperation and the still-surging, fragile hope that somehow, somehow this is not the end, it cannot be, their partnership is not finished and what was it all for, then -

There is, however, one last token to be given, to be recieved.

Obi-Wan nods, takes a shuddering breath, and steadies Qui-Gon with his strong arms.

Qui-Gon reaches up with the last of his strength, and brushes his fingers against that familiar face.

They exchange one last gesture of affection.

...

...And it is thirty-two years before there is another, although it is sweeter, perhaps, for the waiting.

Obi-Wan falls through the veil of death, leaving no form behind for his killer to malign, and directly into the arms of Qui-Gon Jinn.

#why do i always do this #star wars #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #obi wan and qui gon #jedi apprentice #too much poetry #but also too literal #why #father son relationship #could be read as ship #quiobi #whatever #all up in my feels #someone stop me #can't do my WIPS but apparently i can do this #trash

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