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written-in-flowers · 1 year

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Aegon ii Targaryen x niece reader where it's like Damon and Rhaenyra, Aegon and reader go to a brothel but they actually fuck and now they have to marry but there okay with it because they love eachother?

Molding and Shaping

Warnings: incest, slight dub-con, virgin!reader, slight dumbification(?) or allusions to it in the future, somnophilia, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie, no protection, manipulation, cock-warming, power-dynamic, older/younger dynamic,

***

He found you laying in one of the brothel’s private rooms. He’d lost you ages ago during a trip into the city, and spent a good stretch of it looking for you. Aegon knew his mother would flay him alive if he returned without you at his side. Rhaenyra already coveted her daughter so much; if she should have gone missing on her uncle’s watch, he’d never hear the end of it. So, rather than bury himself in wine cups and whores, he’s been searching for you. A man whom he often gambled with in a tavern up the street said he’d seen someone of your description wandering through the Street of Silk.

Perhaps you hoped to find him here, in the Flower Garden, an establishment known to have the finest maidens in King’s Landing?

Or, you hoped he might find you there, vulnerable and oblivious to his presence?

Aegon’s body grew warm seeing you laying on a cot in an empty room. The madam told him she’d taken pity on you, and let you sleep quietly in one of the private rooms. A small room, the walls draped in red and gold curtains, he saw the plush furniture and amenities the place offered. He spotted small vials of different scented oils on a table near the bed, a comfortable mattress with red and white sheets, and his mind began to turn.

For as long as he could remember, your uncle desired you. He watched you grow from an annoying, whiny brat into a blossoming young woman who made him hard in a single glance. Aegon needed to have you, but he knew his sister would never willingly agree to a marriage. She most likely planned on giving you to Jace, your brother, but he refused to let that happen. Rhaenyra took much from him, and he planned on taking you from her. Aegon spent most of his teen years flirting and seducing you. He knew you felt the same. He knew because he still thinks about the time he cornered you at Driftmark, tugged down his trousers and convinced you to stroke him. He thought about your soft hand sliding up and down his length, sending shivers of pleasure over him while people feasted right on the balcony above you. Aegon continued small trists like this, slowly bringing you to him with promises of undying love and devotion mingled with passionate kisses and touches. You were a lonely girl with very few friends to guide you. You were perfect for molding.

Aegon started carefully removing his clothes. He couldn’t avoid the arousal stirring in him. You’d worn your peasant clothes tonight. A cloth and linen gown that cinched at your waist sat over a chair, and he saw your corset beside it, so you only wore your small clothes on the bed. He could make out the shape of your breasts underneath the chemise; the thin fabric rode up around your thighs as you tossed over to one side, your bottom exposed to him. He’d be gentle. You saw his cock plenty of times over the years, but he rarely saw your body. Mostly because your family lived on Dragonstone and had not visited in years. But, the times you had met, you often pleasured him.

He finished undressing and slowly walked over to the bed and sat down. You didn’t stir at the shift in the bed, so he took that to be a good thing. Carefully, he reached over to the collection of oils, finding one that smell of coconuts, and dripped it onto his fingertips. He then gently applied it between your thighs. He bit his lip at the feeling of your soft folds on his fingertips. The oil made it easier for him to move around, wetting your pussy and touching on your clit. He sometimes lowered his hand to your thighs for a soft squeeze, before running back up to your bottom. He gave the one cheek he could touch another tender grip. He’d have you tonight whether you knew it or not. Aegon’s cock started to harden touching your parts: he slid his oiled fingers back over your pussy slowly, and even spat on them to make it slippery. Visions of this tight heat around his cock, squeezing and milking him, made his jaw drop. You’re temptation personified. You’re the one thing he can’t have but desperately wanted.

“Mmmhm,” he heard you stir in your bed, “Uncle...”

“Shush,” he quieted you gently, watching your pussy glisten in the candlelight. You said it so sweetly, so innocently. “Just relax for me, Princess. I’ll do the rest.”

“Uncle...it tingles.”

“It’s supposed to, love.”

He loved it when you played innocent. You spread yourself a bit further out, and Aegon took advantage of the access. He smiled at the soft gasp you made once he slid a finger inside. Yes, just as tight as he thought. Your walls clenched at the intrusion, the slippery digit massaging against them as he curled inside. He watched you clutch the pillows as his fingered you. Your low whimpers made his cock twitch; the feeling of your pussy clutching his fingers caused him to bite his lower lip. Gods, you were perfect. He often had to pay extra for maidens. He once bought a girl at auction. But even those common girls paled in comparison to your sweet, untouched, virginal cunt. Aegon knew nobody ever touched you this way before. He could tell by how easily your pussy spread for him. You’ll be his by the end of the night. Nobody will be able to take you away; not Rhaenyra, not Daemon, not his mother and especially not his corpse of a father.

Aegon chuckled at the sound you made when he pulled out his finger. “Don’t worry, pet,” he said into your ear, rolling his fingers over your clit once more, “You’re going to get something much better soon.”

“Two fingers?” you asked shyly.

“No, sweetling,” he laughed, kissing right at the edge of your ear, “Something bigger and longer than my fingers. I think you’re really going to like it.” He kissed down from your ear to your neck, then to your shoulder. “Stay still,” he said when he noticed your grinding into his fingers, “And let me enjoy your cunt.”

He felt the hard pearl of your clit brush on his fingers, and you shuddered. Aegon continued running it between his fingers, rubbing over and under it every so often to hear you moan. Finally, a pussy he didn’t need to pay for. It’d be all his. If he takes your maidenhead, his family will have no choice but to marry you both to avoid scandal. Then, your body would be his to do what he liked. He couldn’t possibly wait. The tip of his cock began hitting his stomach as he leaned down to rub your clit with his other hand. While he pumped two fingers inside you, he circled right on the nub that sent sparks through your body, causing you to jolt each time. Your heat pulled his fingers fully inside you, fluttering and coating them in your juices.

“Uncle,” you moaned, tugging down the neckline of your chemise underneath your breasts, “Please, go faster.”

“Faster?” he said, eyeing your bare breast from the side. He groaned watching you start pinching and grazing your nipples.

“Yes, please.”

He moved his fingers faster. He wriggled them inside and continued teasing your clit until you were shaking in his grasp. Aegon groaned at the squirt of juices covering his hand. God, you squirt. He loved that. He continued fingering you even after you’d finished making a mess, unable to stop himself from giving you another orgasm. He sensed you must be overstimulated, since you squirmed around every time he brushed your sensitive clit. Keeping you on your side, Aegon finally withdrew his fingers. He pressed them to your lips, moaning when you sucked them. Relief finally sparked when he pushed his spongy tip to your pussy. Your body immediately spread your cum over his tip. He ran the head over your throbbing clitoris, letting his length side between your thighs to wet his shaft. This slight teasing drove you wild. He watched you grind into his cock, whimpering incoherently about him putting it inside you.

“If I take your virginity, Princess,” he said, prodding your entrance with the head, “I will cum inside you.” It was not a fact. It was a promise. “I will fill you with my seed. I will keep filling you over and over until you’re pregnant with my child.”

Then your mother has no choice. He liked the idea of you round, swollen and carrying his baby. Aegon did not particularly want children or to be married, in fact. He simply liked the idea of you holding his child. He smiled imagining his sister’s face whenever you walk by, heavily pregnant, and remember who put it in you.

“Please, Uncle,” you moaned out the title, a word you used so innocently but which caused him so much arousal, “Fuck me.”

“Fuck you?” he questioned coyly, still teasing you, “Not ‘make love’? Not ‘take me’? Do you wish for me to fuck you, little bird?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get.”

He aligned himself with your entrance, then slowly sunk himself into you. Your eye widened at the length and girth stretching you, possibly breaking your maidenhead and causing slight bits of pain. Aegon did not particularly care. The pleasure surging inside his loins made him blind to all sense. Your pussy felt unreal. He’d taken plenty of virgins; he’d rammed himself deep into whores from dawn until dusk, yet yours was so much sweeter. Aegon straddled one thigh, holding the other up and pounded deep into you. Each moan came in a small squeak, still adjusting to his size in spite of the gradual pace. He looked down to his thickness forcing you open; your pussy gripped him tightly, and he couldn’t help being mesmerized by it. He pictured himself fucking this hole constantly. He’d fuck you everywhere and anywhere: his bed chambers, his mother’s apartments, your mother’s apartments, Aemond’s bed (for laughs), and maybe even the throne room. His wild fantasies filled with you riding his cock right on that stupid, ugly chair everyone wants so badly. Your tits bouncing as they did now in each thrust; you moaning his name and pleading for more even when you’d finished. You’ll be his pretty, dumb cocksleeve; his little sex slave who will do anything to satisfy him.

“Such a good pet,” he growled in your ear, the new angle making your eyes roll back. He grabbed you by the throat, forcing you to stay fully still as he pounded your cunt. “Taking my big cock so well and being so good for me. Don’t worry about anything. You stay right here and be a good whore for me...a pretty, dumb, silly little whore...”

And that you did. Aegon watched with satisfaction and amazement when you climaxed a second time. He loved how you clawed at the pillows and sheets; you held them bundled up against your body for a shred to hang onto. Aegon withdrew to see a small sliver of pink mix in with the cum streaming from the tip of his cock. You'd bled. More dropped onto the sheet he used to wipe it. He could’ve cummed just from that alone, but no, he wanted more.

"Ride me," he said, laying on the bed and bringing you with him. He laid there to watch you straddle his hips and sit there. "Well?"

"I...Uncle, it hurts..."

"I know it does, pet," he cooed, running his hands on your thighs, "But it's supposed to. It'll start to feel better soon. Now, get on my cock like a good girl."

You grabbed his shaft and guided him into you, moaning as he impaled you. Aegon groaned at the pulsating heat swallowing him. He gazed down to see your clit rubbing on him, the friction making you grind on him gently. He allowed you to go whatever speed you liked for a while, content to enjoy your hot pussy instead. He grabbed at your tits in the meantime, cupping and palming them as much as he could. Hard nipples poked at his palms, and he pinched them tenderly. The additional pleasure caused you to start bouncing. The sound of skin on skin broke him, and he began bucking his hips to meet yours. He knew your insides would ache in the morning, but he did not fully care. He'd fallen too into his desires to care.

Soon, Aegon tightened his grip on your breasts, hearing a soft moan of pain as he came. As promised, Aegon pumped every drop he could deep inside you. Trembling, his eyes fell closed as he savored your pussy shuddering around him again. He didn’t stop until his cock softened, still twitching somewhat at the stimulation, and you finished cumming over him. Aegon did not pull out. He rolled you onto your side, lifted your leg over his to keep your bodies together, and held you. Under the glow of your orgasms, you rested in his arms. He pushed hair from your face, kissing your cheeks, nose, and lips and muttering praises.

“You did so well, pet,” he muttered, kissing your lips. “You took it all like a big girl and made me so proud of you.”

You smiled brightly, “Don’t pull out of me, Uncle. Please. Not yet.”

“I wasn’t planning to, sweetling,” he replied. “I told you. I want to keep filling you.”

He’d let you relax for a while before having you again. Aegon won’t stop until he is sure you’re pregnant. If you prove not to be, then you have the rest of your lives to do so. Idly, he spent a good while kissing and caressing your body while stuffed in you. As he slipped out, admiring the thick substance spilling from your hole, he looked over to the doorway. Behind the shadow of the curtain, he spotted a small street urchin watching them. He smirked at the boy before he scurried off. A spy. One of Otto’s? One of Larys Strong’s? He didn’t care. The more people who knew about it, the better his chances will be. Aegon began kissing and nibbling your breasts as he imagined his sister hearing about this treachery. The victory felt too sweet.

****

“Aegon, how could you? How could you be so blind? To do this? To do this to her?”

For once, Aegon was not bothered by his mother’s tears or fury. He watched with a sly smirk as she raged in front of him. The boy must’ve been Larys Strong’s spy after all, since it’d been her who approached him first. She’d come into his bed chamber, ripping the covers from his body and tearfully confronting him. He worried she might have gone to you first, giving you moontea and killing any chance of a child. But, that did not matter. He’d taken your virginity, which in a society like theirs, made you worthless to anyone who’d want you.

“What were you thinking?” she asked him. “With her? You do understand that Rhaenyra favors her daughter immensely, and will take this as a slight on her and her family. You’ve spoiled her for any potential matches.”

He almost told her you weren’t innocent either, and had asked him to do it, but he refrained. “I was thinking about my family.”

“Your family?” she huffed. “How is bedding your niece thinking of your family?”

“In order to avoid any more scandals and rumors,” he began, “Rhaenyra will have to agree to a marriage between our house and theirs. She loves Y/N. She adores her. If I’m married to her daughter, who is over the moon about me, then when she ascends the throne, she won’t execute us all.”

Aegon knows there are many flaws in his plan, but that did not matter. Rhaenyra’s always been his father’s favorite child. He’s willfully blinded himself to her treasons, and always came to her rescue whenever a problem arose. He showed time and time again that he cared more about her than the rest of his children. Aegon knows he’ll never be king, and he doesn’t want to be king, but he’d once wanted acceptance. He’d once wanted his father’s love. The night he realized he’d never have it, he decided if Rhaenyra can take things from him and his brother, he can certainly take things from her. Such as her pretty little daughter. By the time Rhaenyra saw her daughter again, she’ll be completely under Aegon’s control and influence.

You’ll belong to him.

****

A/N: this ended up a lot darker than I originally intended, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it too!! <3

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x yn #aegon ii #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd drabbles #hotd imagines #hotd smut #aegon ii smut

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zepskies · 5 months

Text

Show Me - Part 2

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

AN: I know I said I'd release this on Wednesday, but I thought I'd get this out a bit early. Here’s Part 2! **Read Part 1 here.

Word Count: 5,300

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, body insecurity, hurt/comfort, body appreciation.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: “A Thorough Reminder”

It’s a few hours’ drive back to Lebanon.

Dean stops at one of your favorite restaurant chains for takeout, though he notices how you only eat about half of what you ordered. Even he managed to eat all of his bacon cheeseburger, and that was after an entire afternoon of snacking and day drinking.

“Thought you were hungry,” he says.

You shrug as you package up the rest of your dinner and lean back in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know. Guess I don’t have much of an appetite today.”

You’re normally a stress eater, by trade. But today, a familiar anxiety has crept in, taking root in your chest, and creating a mental block between your throat, your brain, and your stomach.

Despite what some people might like to believe, Dean does notice the small things, when it matters.

He glances at you, catches the way you rub at your tired face and release a small sigh.

“You okay?” he can’t help but ask.

You nod absently. “I’m fine, Dean.”

His lips press together. That doesn’t sound like fine. It sounds a lot like Winchester fine.

“I didn’t know he was a hunter,” he remarks.

You both know who he’s referring to. You look over at him, resigned, and a little annoyed.

Dean’s palms lift halfway off the steering wheel as he shrugs.

“You made it seem like he was a normal Joe,” he says. “Some dude you met in Miami.”

“We did meet in Miami,” you confirm. Part of you falters with another sigh. You don’t want to talk about this, but you suppose you might as well get it over with. Dean deserves an explanation.

“Okay, here it is,” you begin. “Carter came into town on a job. I caught wind of it not long after he did, and when we eventually ran into each other, we agreed to work the case…”

And you and Carter were good together, at least on the hunt. There had been a certain rugged charm and confidence to him that had drawn you in (apparently, you had a type). When he’d asked to stay with you for a few days, you hadn’t been able to say no.

“I thought it was because…he wanted to see more of me,” you explain. Your expression turns dry. “Maybe that was part of it, but mainly, he was broke. He literally couldn’t leave. Not until he scored some cash.”

Dean doesn’t want to think about how that guy charmed you, luring you in with what he thought you might want to hear. Though he processes all this with a nod. You’ve filled in most of the gaps, and he thinks he knows where this part of the story leads to: the one thing you did tell him about your ex.

“So you helped him get a job,” Dean supplies. His wry gaze meets yours. “At the local strip joint.”

“As a bouncer,” you specify. “He wasn’t qualified for much else. As it was, he needed me to talk to the manager for him. It was a Miami club run by Latinos. They weren’t going to hire a random white guy off the street who didn’t even speak Spanish.”

“Not until you finessed them,” Dean smirked.

You flash him a small smile. “I’m good with people.”

You hadn’t realized it at the time, under the haze of a hunters’ romance, but everything with Carter had been at his convenience, and whatever he needed from you. A hunting partner. A bit of money (a loan, he’d claimed). Some good food and a place to stay, free of charge. Not to mention a warm bed.

The giver in you had been all too ready to oblige.

“And when he got enough money to hit the road, he asked me to go with him,” you continue. “My grandma was still alive at the time. I had never left the city for more than a few days before, in case she needed me, but she told me to go. To live my life…so I did.”

You turn to Dean then. You suck in a breath as your eyes begin to sting.

“It’s my biggest regret,” you say. “She was gone by the end of the year.”

Dean sobers. His eyes soften, and he reaches across your thigh for your hand. You lace your fingers with his.

“I told you, she basically raised me,” you say. You brush away a tear from your cheek, sniffling. “…I should’ve been there.”

Dean raises your hand to his lips. “That’s not on you.”

You shake your head instead of answering. You’d been on a hunt with Carter when you got the call from your grandma’s neighbor. For almost a year, you’d lost what you hadn’t realized was precious time.

Meanwhile, you’d become what you’d thought was a partner, both on the Job and in life. Turns out, you’d been more like a sidekick, allowing Carter to tell you where, when, and how. It took your grandmother’s death to snap you out of the trance.

So you went home, picked up the pieces of your life…and you started again, somehow.

“A few months later,” you say, squeezing Dean’s hand. “I met you in a dirty bar in Las Cruces.”

He shoots you a more amused look.

“You mean you tried to hustle me,” he says.

Your lips curve into a grin. “Oh, please. You knew what you were getting into.”

Dean chuckles at that, tossing his head back against his headrest.

“Well, not exactly,” he says. Your hand is still tucked in his, and his thumb draws back and forth across your fingers.

He hadn’t known you were a hunter at first. He’d noticed your curves in those tight jeans and fitted top, your red lips, the shade of your hair, the perceptive gleam in your eyes—he’d liked it all.

Still, after he watched you hustle a guy out of all his money that night, just to give him $30 back so he could afford to get home…he’d known then that there was something special about you.

Then you’d slid into the seat next to him at the bar. Your English had been as smooth as your Spanish, and he’d been all too willing to get hooked into a game of pool with you.

He hadn’t known then that he was staring into the face of his future.

“I knew I wanted you in my bed that night,” Dean says. His easy smile is flirtatious, but his eyes are honest, finding yours. “I just didn’t count on you being even more badass than I took you for.”

Your cheeks warm as you fight a deeper smile, shaking your head.

You lean over as far as you can with your seatbelt on and press a kiss to his cheek. You linger there, with your hand reaching out to caress his face. You don’t want his eyes to leave the road, but you want him to know what he means to you right now.

After you pull away, he gives you one of those grins, and his eyes are dancing. It makes him both a giant dork, and incredibly charming all at once.

Not for the first time, you’re grateful to know this man—let alone be with him.

And yet, Dean knows.

Something’s not quite right with you.

He feels it in his gut when you two get back to the bunker that night. You shower quickly and alone, and you took a change of clothes into the bathroom with you, like he’s never seen you naked before.

By the time Dean finishes his own shower and gets dressed, you’re getting ready for bed as you putter about the room. He eyes your long pants and sweatshirt.

“You cold?” he asks, while digging in his dresser for a clean pair of sweatpants.

You spare him a glance, but you don’t fully turn to him while you go through your skincare routine with your hair clipped up.

“No, I’m good,” you reply.

“So why the long johns,” he quips, gesturing at your pants. He can’t remember the last time you wore anything but a shirt and underwear to bed (or less). He catches the look on your face in the dresser mirror: a slight pause, a press of your lips, but your face is otherwise guarded.

“I guess I am a little cold,” you say. You head to the bathroom again to finish the rest of your nightly routine, but you don’t see the way Dean’s frown follows you.

He later waits for you in bed. He pauses in his iPad scrolling when you slip in beside him under the covers. You've let your hair back down, nice and wild the way he likes it.

You heave a sigh. “Good night.”

“Hold up,” Dean says. With a hand on your shoulder, he stops you from facing away from him. He leans in and caresses your cheek with his thumb. You give him a small smile.

And he gives you a slow, purposeful kiss. He pulls away, just enough to see your eyes, beautiful and warm. He leans in again and angles into a new kiss, one that deepens with a spark of heat. He props himself up with a forearm above your head, digging into your pillows.

His thigh slots between your legs. For a reason you don’t want to name, you fight the instinct to press your center against him. His hand on your cheek slides down your neck, down the front of your close-necked shirt, between your breasts. He finds purchase on your hip and squeezes soft, tender flesh.

That’s when you stop him with a gentle push on his chest.

You slowly break from his kiss and lick your lips. Your eyes are apologetic.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m just…I’m tired,” you say.

Dean nods and lets out a sigh through his nose. He shifts more fully onto his side, lifting his weight off of you, and brushes your hair back from your face.

“You sure you don’t have anything you wanna talk about?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “Like what?”

“Like how you’re letting that asshole get back into your head,” Dean replies.

His gaze feels heavy on you, and you pause, staring back at him in soft shock.

“I’m not—”

“Look, I know you. And whatever this is, it’s more than what we talked about in the car,” he says, with a firm, yet gentle gaze. “If there’s something else you need to get out, you can tell me.”

Dean has worked hard to help you through the mental roadblocks you’ve had in the past—about you being comfortable with yourself, and with him. He’s not going to let some dipshit like Carter undo all of that, unraveling you with a single thread.

But your mouth works as you start to get annoyed, and even a bit angry at his accusation.

“Just because I don’t want to have sex, doesn’t mean I’ve got a problem, okay Dean? I just want to sleep,” you say tersely.

Dean’s jaw clenches at your tone. His head quirks, and he nods.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll sleep.”

He turns around and shut off his beside lamp, casting the room in darkness. You huff and turn onto your side, away from him.

You cover yourself with the blankets up to your shoulders, but the longer you lay there in silence, the more that guilt prickles in your chest, along with the tightness of anxiety that welled up when he started to touch you.

Fuck, what’s wrong with me? you think, trying to work through the emotion clogging in your throat. You haven’t felt like this in years…

Slowly you turn back towards Dean. By now your eyes have adjusted enough to see the outline of his broad back in his gray shirt. You steel yourself with another shaky breath, and you scoot forward across the bed. Your curled hands rest against the middle of his back, where you also press your forehead. You feel his body tense up a little.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper in the dark.

After a beat, you hear him sigh. Dean reaches out to turn the lamp back on, filling the room once again with soft light. He turns and finds you haven’t moved, though you stare up at him with shining eyes.

His own soften. He takes one of your hands and presses the back of it to his lips.

“Talk to me,” he says, and he waits for you to gain your courage.

After another couple of steadying breaths, you begin.

“There’s too many things I didn’t realize at the time,” you say. “He didn’t force me to go with him, to stay with him. Even when I felt like shit inside, I thought he was right about me. About how I looked, and…and what I was good for, I guess. I thought he needed me, and that made everything else okay.”

You sniffle, and a tear rolls down your cheek. Dean’s hold on you tightens a fraction. He’s listening intently, but in his silence, there’s anger. He wishes he really had broken that guy’s hand. Or at least his goddamn mouth.

“I mean, what the hell was I thinking?” you ask, laughing a bit through your tears. “I always thought I was stronger than that, you know? I just realize now that…I must not have liked myself very much.”

Dean lets go of your hand, just to dry your face. He’s no stranger to looking in the mirror and not liking the man staring back at him, but he doesn’t think that’s your problem.

He caresses your cheek, shakes his head, and he offers a rueful smile.

“Nah. You just have a habit of fallin’ for poor sons of bitches who don’t deserve you,” he says.

You read between his self-deprecating lines there, raising your brows at him.

“Hey. That might be true, but you better not be lumping my boyfriend in with the rest of them,” you say firmly. Your arms slip around his waist, and you press yourself in close.

Dean chuckles and welcomes you into his arms as well. His hand tangles in your hair, and his lips find your neck with a deep inhale.

He knows what kinds of thoughts are likely plaguing your mind, just like he knows that whatever he says will only go so far. He presses a kiss to your neck that grazes with teeth. You let out a little hum of surprise. He smiles and begins to move down, letting his lips brush across your skin.

“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower and brushes the side of your breast. “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”

His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.

You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.

“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”

His grin deepens, teeth shining. “Yes, ma’am.”

This man is nothing if not endearing, and it earns a giggle from you as he moves down your body. First, you help him with getting your sweatshirt up and over your head; the collar is close to your neck and he doesn’t want to choke you (yet).

His gaze focuses on the rise and fall of your chest, the familiar sight of your full breasts, waiting for him to touch and tease.

Before he can start to follow through with his mental plans, you sit up with him and your hands dive under his shirt, both to start inching it up, and to feel him. His stomach clenches under the soft graze of your nails, but he gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

“What’d I just tell you?” he chides.

You give him an incredulous smile. “What, I’m not allowed to touch you?”

Dean reaches up to pull his shirt off from behind his neck. It’s a smooth move, and your eyes roam over his chest, and lower still.

He smirks. “Just be a good girl and wait your turn.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh. You let him finish undressing you by peeling off the sweatpants. You were getting hot in those anyway.

He leaves your panties on for now, but he travels back up to slot himself between your open legs. With a forearm braced above you, he starts again from the top.

He caresses your cheek, and begins with a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

You sigh at the attention, tilting your head to make room for him. The sound of your voice is just one thing that he loves (and you know it), but Dean also loves the smoothness of your tan skin. He doesn’t mind a few faded stretch marks here and there, the lower he gets. He’s got a few scars and worry lines himself.

What matters to him is the sounds he’s able to pull from you as he nips and licks down between your breasts. He massages and teases one with his hand, while his tongue lavishes attention on the other. He earns a breathy sigh, a moan when his lips find the hardening buds, your knees starting to bend and squeeze his waist. He already feels the dampness of your clothed core brushing his thigh.

“Already squeezing on me, huh? I’ve barely touched you,” Dean teases. He nips at a plush spot on your left side, below your breast—something you might’ve been insecure about, if his thumb wasn’t also still distracting you by swirling over a nipple. His hands are sinfully good (something you love).

You utter a small moan and grasp his wrist just for something to hold onto as his mouth continues worshipping every curve of your body. Even the parts you’d usually rather him steer away from.

Dean senses your tension, however, when his teeth graze your soft stomach. He glances up at you, finding a bit of insecurity in your eyes.

“Here’s the thing,” he says, and his lips move against your skin. “You act like I haven’t already seen and conquered every square inch of you. Like I haven’t torn you apart, time after time.”

He sits back up, and his hands squeeze your hips and thighs and ass. He moves up to look down on you with almost predatory focus. Like he’s trying to determine what part of you he wants to devour next.

It’s a look you’ve seen before, though it still makes your face warm and your pussy clench on nothing. Your mouth parts with an unsteady laugh.

“You’ve got a point,” you nod. Dean shoots you a smirk, but he still takes your hand from where it’s been tangled in the sheets. He presses a kiss into your palm.

“You don’t gotta hide from anybody,” he says. “For damn sure, you ain’t hiding from me. You're too damn beautiful for that.”

You smile up at him, softer now as you thread your fingers with his.

He soon lets you go though. Because his hand moves down and down, to brush his fingers along your clothed core. You breathe deeper in anticipation, but his grin tells you that he’s not going to make this quick.

“Dean,” you implore him.

“Yeah, baby,” he answers. The pads of his fingers stroke and press into you. You lean into his touch, wanting and craving more. But he doesn’t give it to you just get.

He keeps teasing you, brushing your clit through the soaked fabric of your panties. It’s sort of what you want, and yet nowhere near enough. You can taste the edge of pleasure, just starting to make you squirm against his hand.

“You’re killing me here,” you whine.

“I’m ‘a need you to be patient,” he says.

You laugh, both incredulous and frustrated. His grin is damn near insufferable now.

Dean’s fingers move your panties aside, but they do no more than brush against the wet seam of your pussy. You hum and try to press into his hand. He doesn’t heed your unspoken demand.

He thinks you’re sexy as hell like this, writhing and waiting for his touch. He just wants to savor that for a bit longer—that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. He’s the only one who gets to tease you, to be with you, to love you.

You’re getting impatient though. With a ragged sigh, you sit up and hook a hand behind his neck and pull him down into your kiss. He chuckles against your lips when he feels your hand sliding from his chest to the generous bulge in his sweatpants. You stroke up and down the full length of him with a practiced hand.

“I get it, baby. I do,” you pant, “but I need you.”

He falters for a moment, grunting when your hand slips into the front of his pants and boxer briefs and takes his cock firmly in hand. Your touch is soft and warm and you know how to elicit a shiver running down his spine.

Dean has a plan though, and he forces himself to focus through gritted teeth. He takes your wrist, carefully guides it out of his pants, and pins it beside your head, using his strength against you. It’s as frustrating as it is hot, making your skin flush as you stare up at him.

“We’re not there yet,” he tells you. Amusement gleams in his eyes. “But I like the enthusiasm.”

Without warning, he pulls away from you. He sits up on his knees and grabs the nearest pillow. He grasps your thighs and raises you up enough to slide the pillow underneath your ass, which he bares after snatching off your panties. You yelp and the suddenness of your underwear sliding off your legs. He tosses them elsewhere.

“What, now you’re speeding things up?” you remark.

Dean raises his brows at you. “What gave you that idea?”

He shifts down the bed and sinks down between your thighs. You lean up just on your elbows so you can try to figure out what he’s about to do (though you have a pretty good guess). For a delicious moment, you feel his warm breath against your pussy. You clench in anticipation…

Until he veers further down the inside of your thigh. His hand moves smoothly underneath one of your thick thighs and hooks it over his shoulder. He starts with wet kisses from the inside of your knee, steadily moving up your thigh. Your eyes close as your breathing shallows.

You force yourself to take deeper breaths as the gentle feeling of his lips, and a hint of teeth, continues to make your body tingle with pleasure. You feel warmth and wetness pooling between your legs. Your core is already throbbing with need.

Just as Dean draws near to the apex of your thighs…he changes course, starting the same path of kisses up your other leg. You blow out a shaky sigh and have to clench your hands into the sheets. His name falls from your lips, both a reverent sigh and a plea.

You know what he’s doing. He’s worshipping your body in the sweetest of ways. You knew he was going to take his time with you, working you up, but this is both heaven and hell.

“Would you relax?” he says, chuckling into your skin.

You release a breathy giggle. “Yeah, right. I love and hate you right now.”

Dean’s shoulders shake with near silent laughter. His free hand soothes up and down the thigh he holds propped up on his shoulder.

“As long as it’s more of the first one, we’re good,” he teases.

You groan, but eventually you relax against the bed. You realize now that you’re more comfortable, more focused more on the pleasurable sensations he’s giving you than on how exposed you are right now. You smile begrudgingly, as you realize that’s probably what Dean wanted all along.

Just when your body is starting to settle into this, you gasp when you feel his tongue finally lick a warm stripe up the seam of your pussy.

Your head raises, and you see your man’s mischievous green eyes and the edge of his smile between your legs. Your mouth opens to say something petulant, but you cry out when his fingers slip past your wet folds and find your clit.

He knows where you’re most sensitive, what’s going to have you even more slippery and pulsing with need. His tongue replaces his hand, licking and sucking at your clit, while his fingers slip into your tight entrance and fuck into you slowly.

“God, Dean,” you breathe. Your nails dig back into the mattress.

You feel his voice reverberate inside you when he says, “Relax…”

He's already hooked your thighs over his shoulders. The pillow under your raised hips just gives him even more leverage to work you over. His mouth is noisy and makes you blush down to your neck, but you can’t help fisting a hand into his hair and clenching tight as he brings you right to the edge…

And he tumbles you over. His fingers brush deliberately and firmly against that sensitive spot deep inside you, until your inner walls quiver and your legs shake around his head.

Then you’re coming all over his hand. Your whimpers turn into a moan of release as warmth travels from your center, throughout the rest of your body. His tongue doesn’t stop, and your skin tingles, causing a shiver to run up your spine and arch your back as you moan.

He doesn’t pull away until your clit becomes oversensitive, and you start to squirm away from his hold. When he finally gives you reprieve, your body sags on the bed and your head rolls to the side as you try to catch your breath.

Dean’s panting hard too by the time he’s done. He has to wipe his mouth, nose, and hand, but he still strokes your thighs after he guides your legs off his shoulders and back to the bed.

Since you’re incapable of speech at the moment, you tug more gently on his hair to get his attention. He greets you with a grin as he takes in how wrecked you are.

You smile back and beckon him with a curling finger. “Come ‘ere.”

Dean obliges you, moving up your body to prop himself up on a forearm, next to your head. You grab his chin and bring him down to you for a searing kiss. You shudder a little, as you can taste yourself on his tongue. The press of his fingers along the small of your back brings more tingles across your skin.

You feel him hard and heavy against your thigh. You let your hands run down his back as well. Down the slope of his spine, and under the waistband of his sweatpants.

“I need you,” you whisper, in the small space between your faces.

“Yeah?” he pants, though his tone is teasing. “Where?”

“Inside me,” you reply. Your thighs squeeze his hips, pressing his length against your center and earning a groan out of him. “Fuck me ‘til it hurts.”

Dean’s grip on your hip tightens. He drops a biting kiss to your throat and nods. He quickly gets the rest of his clothes off, then he directs you to move onto your side. You’re a bit confused at first, but you oblige him. He kneels between your thighs, straddling the bottom one, then hooking your top leg over his.

He pushes his cock into you slowly, making you both breathe harder as he stretches you and finds his way home.

This angle is different, but it’s good. You feel him bottom out deep and snug inside. Already your inner walls respond to the feeling of him, and you tighten on reflex.

Dean makes a sound of pleasure and presses his forehead against your shoulder for a moment.

“What’s this, like doggy style?” you ask.

“Kind of,” he says, giving you a grin. “This way, I can still see your pretty face.”

You can’t help a giddy burst of laughter, even though your face warms. Yes, he still manages to make you blush when he talks like that.

Dean smirks in amusement. Once again, he swipes a thumb across your cheek and presses a kiss to your lips. You hold him there and lick into his mouth. When he starts to move, rocking out, then back inside of you with ease, you shudder at the feeling of him. Your thigh curls tighter around his hip, and he squeezes your soft flesh there.

“I happen to like a little give,” he says, with a lusty gleam in his eyes. “You know why?”

You’re already panting for breath. His slow strokes make you feel every inch of him, but you lick your lips and meet his hot gaze. You start to smile as you humor him.

“Why?” you ask.

“Call it a ‘soft landing,’” he grins. “Makes it feel that much better when I fuck you good and deep.”

Your mouth falls open, this time more in shock as you blush further and shiver in arousal—not only at his words, but the sound of his voice, and his sincerity. You unintentionally clench on his cock, and he groans. He gives your ass a heavy smack. You jolt with a gasp.

“Keep that up,” his voice deepens, rough with pleasure. “’Bout to fuckin’ wreck you.”

All you can do is nod and hold on tight for the damn ride.

He builds up the pace, until he needs a hand on the headboard for balance. The old mattress creaks to the tempo of his pounding strokes, and he’s hitting your G-spot with every single one of them. Your toes curl and you grab onto his thigh to help keep both of you steady.

You feel that coil starting to tighten, but you’re not quite there. You reach down between your bodies and massage your clit in time with his thrusts. Your eyes close on a gasp.

And the coil eventually snaps. Your inner walls spasm and flutter around him, making his hips stutter.

“That’s it, baby. Let go for me,” he grits out. He chases his own release as well as yours. “So fucking sexy like this, coming apart for me.”

He's spurred on by the way your voice echoes in his ears. A few more hard thrusts, and he’s spilling into you. He fills you up with his warmth and makes a shiver run through your body.

You’re gripping his thigh so tightly you’re probably giving him bruises, but it’s not unlike the fingerprints you often find on your ass and hips (and probably will find tomorrow).

You finally twist onto your back and relax. Dean catches himself against the bed before he crushes you with his weight. You welcome him anyway, with your hand soothing up and down his back.

“You okay?” he asks. Somehow, his gruff voice is still soothing to you.

You smile, giving a teasing squeeze on his arm. “Much better.”

He chuckles at that. His skin is dewy and sticks to yours, but you don’t mind. In turn, he brushes your now frizzy hair away from your face and neck, so it fans out on the pillow instead.

After he untangles from you and rolls onto the bed at your side, he lays there on his back and tries to regain his breath. You turn toward him and press a kiss into his shoulder.

“Thank you…for reminding me,” you say.

For making me feel beautiful, wanted, loved…

You try to blink past the sting of tears, but you know your eyes are shining.

“I love you,” you remind him.

Dean’s face warms and softens. He reaches over and takes your hand. Again, he presses it to his lips.

I love you too, that gesture says. Then he smiles.

“Any time you need a little show and tell, I’m here.”

AN: 😮‍💨 Well then! lol I hope you liked this! For me it was equal parts fun and cathartic, being a plus-size girl myself. 💗💗

I was definitely thinking of that scene in 9.13:

Mala: "What can I say? Sometimes it's nice to feel a little give."

Dean *has an epiphany*: "Oh. Yeah, I get that. A little extra cushion for the, uh..." *fist pounding motion* (lmfao)

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "Get Stuffed":

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

▶️ Next Story: Get Stuffed

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Show Me #Part 2 #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x latina!reader #dean winchester x plus sized!reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #Midnight Espresso verse #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x poc!reader #poc!reader #latina!reader #plus sized reader #zepskies writes

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despairots · 5 months

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#A NIGHT TO REMEMBER, o. dazai!

a special oneshot!

description, it’s special to know how the other feels. to communicate is the best, though, dazai isn’t one for words but it’s fine, you’re the same. neither of you can put the feelings you have into words.

— story contains, angst, established relationship, swearing, suicide mentions, depressing talks, “no longer human” connections i think?, r! psychoanalysis’s i guess?, mental health, trauma talking, character deaths, if i missed anything let me know! gender neutral! reader.

“why are you writing this?” bc dazai is one of the characters i heavily relate to on another level. hes so much different from mizuki akiyama and satoru gojo. and this is just me talking a lot about dazai’s character and analyzing him… btw, r! wears a black blazer (or leather jacket) white button up with a black waist coat, either brown shorts or pants (maybe black of u want), underneath the shorts or pants are like black tights and slip on penny loafers.

long before you started dating dazai, there was an obvious connection that you only saw and felt. obviously, you were friends during those time periods because you worked in the same place, everyone there were friends.

though, the friendship you two had were entirely different from the rest, had the same humour but showing it differently. you wouldn’t lie and say that dazai flirting with you just to ask for a double suicide didn’t concern you, because it did. there’s no doubt that he’ll try and eventually succeed (although, death doesn’t accept him).

there’s nothing that can kill this man, no matter how hard he tries. you picked that up during one of his failed attempts, it almost succeeded if kunikida wasn’t there, you thanked him a ton. all he said in response is that; “i have to look over that idiot one way or another.” no matter how much dazai annoys his coworkers, they still care.

when dazai tries to commit and somewhat fails, it’s almost like he’s punishing himself for still being alive. you know his past, after all, you were in port mafia with him, even though you two didn’t work together or how he didn’t know you during that time, you sure knew him.

he was surrounded by death, in the port mafia and the ada, it follows him yet never accepts it’s his time to come to the afterlife. he makes these plans that somewhat end up succeeding though he hurts himself in the process, always worrying you. what if eventually death actually accepts him at some point?

dazai has been extraordinarily smart every since he was a kid to the point where he’s been dehumanized by dubbing him; “the demon prodigy”. you didn’t know anything about his parents, you did know what drove him to be tired of living. he’s tired living, bored by life and the people around him, to him, they are easily predictable and manipulated that nothing can surprise him.

he can’t find sense to the world but most importantly, he doesn’t find sense in life, he ends up reverting to extensional depression, continuing the cycle he lives in.

dazai has been exploited ever since he was 14 and taken into the port mafia by mori. he was kept alive by mori, by chuuya, by everyone. he was used until there was nothing left. he never had any love nor hope (that he’d ever have someone to understand him) until a friend he later brought up to you, oda.

he truly believed he deserved everything that happened to him in the port mafia.

you believe that younger dazai never believed that he could be better, but if he’s changing now than he always had the ability to change, just never tried. he was sure the mafia was the only fate he had and the only place to escape of living.

then oda died. dazai was free, with ango’s help of wiping his criminal records. without ango’s help, he would’ve never been free from mafia, though he knows his past will always haunt him, he’s accepted that. he also knows that his indebted to ango, he knows he owes him.

since oda’s death, dazai’s trust had ran thin and he’s always on guard, his ability to open up to anyone had been cut off because he can not lose anyone again. the things he cares about and didn’t wanna lose, is lost the moment he gains it.

his plans always evolve other people, rather to manipulate or exploit. you don’t blame him, if it meant surviving, you would do it too.

he is someone who jokes but never opens up nor can be his true self. he’s a wreck who will drag anyone else down with him, that was a price you had to pay for dating him. he repulsed the idea of love and being in a relationship with you because of how he’ll be afraid of losing you.

dazai dated you as a joke, to see how thing will end, until he realized that you were somewhat different. you were always one step of ahead, had almost the same ability that involved contact, and you had this missing glint in your eyes. that’s just the surface though.

dazai knows there’s more to you— he doesn’t know about your connections to the port mafia though— but he doesn’t bother bringing the topic up to you though nor does he like talking about it.

at nights like this, where he’s staring aimlessly somewhere and devoid of emotion, he’s completely vulnerable in your shared dorm. sitting on the couch, cheek on the palm of his hand as the other searches the cold touch of your hand, seeking for some company.

—and you’re there. sitting on the couch with him and a book discarded in your lap, only staring at dazai with a look of curiosity and content, he looks peaceful despite the war going on in his head.

(you were memorized by the destruction he creates and has, it was peaceful to know what beautiful destruction that dazai carries with him).

when dazai feels the cold skin of your hand, he could feel his ability cancelling yours out as your hand covers his, holding it tightly yet so soft that he wonders if you’re even there. dazai finally looks at you, face still devoid of emotion, watching you reopen your book.

“morning, sleeping beauty.” you hummed softly, an amused tone with your words. dazai groaned and knocked your book off your lap, kicking his legs up into your lap and laying down, now staring up at the ceiling.

hearing dazai go silent wasn’t rare, it was rather common when you two are in your shared dorm, but not hearing him say something stupid back confused you.

you turned your head to dazai, taking notice of his eyes that threatened to pour tears in front of you, “you okay, ‘samu?” knowing him for a while now, he wouldn’t open up and talk about his feelings. it’s fine though, you’re like that too, and you wouldn’t mind waiting forever even if it didn’t come.

dazai didn’t respond.

he never did.

he closed his eyes and if you listened closer, you could hear the shaky breath that he exhaled. taking his hand in yours, you placed a chaste kiss to his palm, the contact making dazai open his eyes slowly and sit up on his elbows.

“when are you gonna leave?” he’s says stupid shit all the time, it doesn’t effect you, none of his words effect you. it should’ve effected you but it didn’t, and dazai could tell by the unamused look on your face, “when are you gonna take your life seriously?” you lightly jabbed at him, hearing him scoff and mutter ‘hypocrite’ underneath his breath.

dazai sat up properly, scooting closer to you and grabbing your hand, setting his head on your shoulder. dazai’s touch starved but refuses any contact that doesn’t involve him initiating it, you’re an expectation, you’ve always been every since the relationship started.

silence took over you, the fan in the background aswell as dazai’s calming breath stirring you into a tired state, laying your head on dazai’s head (knowing the neck pain wouldn’t be worth it tomorrow).

“y’know i’d wait, right?” dazai hums underneath his breath as a response, “how do i know you’re not lying?” and you scoff. rolling your tired eyes, for a guy like him to ask you that question is amusing. “we’ve been lying to eachother for a while but i’m not lying about this, ‘samu.”

the former executive makes himself more comfortable in the crook of your neck, forcing you to lay down and keep him close, “i know.” the words came out muffled, and alas, his eyes are shut again and his sleeping in your arms that are now warm.

with him being asleep, you could pick out the smallest details about the boy in your arms. in your arms, he isn’t the former demon prodigy, in your arms, he isn’t a former port mafia member, in your arms, he isn’t a dehumanized person.

he’s just a boy.

osamu dazai isn’t one for words, but it’s okay, because you’re not one for words either. it’s gonna be like that for awhile, or forever, only time could tell. dazai knows this; you know this. and since dazai’s betrayal to the port mafia, he’s changing, but if he’s changing now, he was always capable of changing, he just never cared enough to try.

osamu dazai isn’t one for words, neither are you.

tick.

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calypsocolada · 5 months

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PAPER RINGS | takuma

synopsis: takuma meets your parents, it goes better than expected. authors note: hi there. i was watching the proposal and this story came to me :] i really think jjk is for the girlies and gays with the amount of male characters that are literally too sexy. anyways pls enjoy this story!!!!!!!!!!!!!! does anyone else wanna help me track down gege? he's a fucking menace. cw: slightly suggestive, ANGST, shibuya mention, slight spoliers about nanami wc: 4.3k

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You glance over at the driver's seat, Takuma is bouncing his leg up and down, his hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. He was nervous. You could tell it instantly. He was rigid, Takuma was never rigid, he was always relaxed. Your first few weeks of dating he was nervous around you and you could see those same mannerisms now. You reached over, turning the radio down a bit. It had been playing the same three Christmas songs on every channel. Takuma glanced over at you and gave you an anxious smile. So you reached over and laced your fingers with his free hand.

“You survived Thanksgiving, Christmas will be fine.” You whispered, pressing your lips to the top of his hand. You nod his head.

“I don’t think your Dad likes me,” He starts.

“Why would you think that?” You asked, leaning your head against the seat, inspecting Takuma’s side profile. He was distracting, his jawline and soft brown hair, his chestnut eyes that matched the soft tan sweater you got him. He looked good. Really really good.

“I don’t know, I just feel like he doesn’t like me.”

“My father is very outspoken, Ino, he once told one of my ex’s that he was ‘fucking annoying’ right to his face.”

“Oh god.” Takuma breathes out.

“My point is that if he didn’t like you, he would’ve said something to you already.” You say, reaching over to run your fingers through the ends of his hair. Takuma leans into your touch as he presses lightly on the break at a red light.

“And your mom?”

“My mom,” you laugh. “She loves you.”

Which is true. Your mom had pulled you aside during Thanksgiving to rave about Takuma. How he helped her in the kitchen and didn’t seem bothered the least bit when helping clean up. Takuma glances at you with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Really?” He asks as you nod your head. He bites his lip to keep from smiling too largely. You see his shoulders relax slightly and you roll your head back towards the passing trees. The heat blew from the vents to your cheeks, snow falling fresh and white from the dimmed sky.

There were things you were keeping to yourself. Big changes you weren’t ready for. You wanted everything to go perfectly this weekend but in quiet moments of reflection you wondered who you wanted it to go perfectly for. Because once you said the things on your mind that just might be the end for you and Takuma.

You and Takuma have been together for about three years now. You met in Shibuya on Halloween night. It was a crazy night that you didn’t like to remember much of. You’d been there for a Halloween party and next thing you know things were blowing up and people were dying. Takuma had appeared like some sort of superhero, he helped escort you to safety. That night you learned about things you never wanted to learn about. Such as the existence of curses, and that cute boy that you’d fall in love with worked to exterminate such curses. Some jobs he did were fine, minimum damage. But most jobs he’s barely make it out alive. Like the one in Shibuya. Takuma didn’t talk about that night at all, only meeting you. Everything else was an extremely sore subject for him. He had talked about a Nanami Kento at one point while somewhat drunk but the most you got out of him was that he looked up to him but then he got quiet. You assumed Nanami wasn’t around anymore, probably because of the curses they fought.

That was something you could’ve gone your entire life without knowing because it irrevocably changed things. Life was scarier now. But on the other side of the coin you also met Takuma.

You and your friends had gone to some stupid party, you remember it raining at one point, your freshly curled hair going flat. You stepped out of the party into the brisk cold air, rain hitting your hot skin, cooling you off. You let your head fall back against the brick wall behind you. You don’t even know why you came out tonight, it wasn’t less than an hour until your friends all found some boys to mess around with and leave you all on your own. You pulled the cold beer bottle up to your lips and downed what little you had left in it, tossing the glass bottle in the trash. It cracked loudly in the bin. You needed another drink. Or maybe you needed to call a taxi and get the fuck home already. You let your eyes fall closed, the bunny ears on your head sliding and almost falling off your head. You adjusted them and shivered slightly, the cold air finally getting to you. Then again what did you expect, wearing a flimsy corset and ripped tights, a cotton ball glued sideways on your ass. Something shifted down the alley, a few cans falling over. You turned at the sound. You were wary usually and dressed like this you shouldn’t have left the club alone. A growl erupted from about thirty feet down the alley. This had you turning and walking back towards the bar until something large stepped in your way, knocking you back on your ass. There was no explanation for what you were looking at. It was a monster, about nine feet tall, with grotesque features and a gaping mouth, its purple tongue lolling to the side. The scream that left your lips was part fear and confusion, part hoping someone slipped you some mushrooms or something because what you were looking at right now couldn’t have been real. The monster spoke then, in a garbled tone, something about its mother? Something about shopping? You couldn’t understand it before there was a burst and suddenly you were covered in purple goo.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s dead.” A comforting voice said, you hadn’t noticed you were still screaming. You took a staggering breath, wiping the goo from your face. A hand extended and you took it. The man in front of you steady you, looked you over for any wounds then slung his jacket over your shoulders. “You're okay? I got it before it could touch you?” He asks. You blink a few times, unable to form words through the shock of what you just saw. He reached forward, barely touching your shoulder. “Ma’am, it’s dead. I’m here, nothings going to hurt you.” He says and slowly your eyes raise to meet his. Beautiful brown eyes. There’s a quiet moment, like the world has slowed for a moment. The stranger's eyes looked gentle, his voice the only keeping you from freaking out all over again. “You're not hurt are you?” He asks again and slowly you shake your head. “Thank god for that,” He says and he sounds genuinely relieved.

“You saved my life.” You say with a sort of unbelievable amazement. “From--from uh- what- what the fuck was that..?”

You’d asked him his name that night he saved you, he made a show of things and kissed your knuckles as he left. A month or so later he walked into the bookstore you were working in. He had bandages on his eye and the color gone from his face. You almost didn’t recognize him. When he checked out he looked at you, squinting slightly.

“I recognize you,” he says as you look up.

“I was in Shibuya during Halloween.” You say and recognition dawns on his face.

“You were dressed as a bunny.” He points out as you blush. You certainly were, it was your friend’s idea. You each went as some kind of cute animal. There was a cat, a mouse, a rabbit and your youngest friend dressed as a dog.

“Not my best costume.” You say, somewhat shielding your face.

“You looked cute.” You blushed even deeper. “I didn’t get to thank you.” You say as you hand him his receipt. “You saved my life.”

“You’re welcome. I’d do it anytime.” He says before blushing. You smile down at your shoes.

“Could I buy you a drink maybe?”

That was the start of everything. You kept seeing Takuma until he finally kissed you, then you saw him all the time. Now three years later you two lived together. Things had been busy and your parents lived in another state which is why he never got to meet them in person until recently. Takuma grew up in a warmer climate and coming down to where you lived, mid-winter was like a Christmas all of his own. The first time you guys flew here for thanksgiving it was snowing. Takuma ran out of the airport and took thousands of pictures. It was cute. He eagerly bought a parka, beanie and earmuffs. He wore them all the entire weekend. This weekend was no different. He was ready now for this climate. He had various cable knit sweaters you helped him pick out, and a barrage of scarfs. You loved how he loved your hometown. He called it Christmas town, and said it reminded him of Hallmark movies. It always made you laugh because it was one of many states that got lots of snow, he just wasn’t used to it.

You pull up and the front door to your house is already cracked open. The lights are perfectly placed outside, white snow covering the roof and the ground. There’s a shoveled path for you two to follow. You both hop out, Takuma grabs all the bags before you can even think about grabbing your own.

“Give me a bag, boy wonder.” You tease as Takuma just shakes his head and walks towards the front door. He was very chivalrous all the time, always putting you first. You rolled your eyes lovingly and jogged to catch up with him.

“Don’t slip on the ice patch there.” Takuma calls out over his shoulder as you step over said spot. Your Mom appears at the front door, the fog on the window blurring her figure. She waves as both you and Takuma wave back. Then she pushes open the door and holds it open for you two.

“Hi honey! Merry Christmas!” She says as you two meet in a tight hug.

“Hi mom. Merry Christmas,” you return. Your mom pulls back, tucks your hair behind your ear before turning to Takuma.

“Hi handsome, love the sweater.” She says, reaching and pulling Takuma into a hug.

“Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N. Merry Christmas.”

“Come inside you two, out of the cold.” Your mom said as Takuma picked the bags up and you held the door open for him. The heat hit your cold cheeks immediately, the smell of your Mom’s homemade cookies hitting you. You smiled to yourself. You moved away from home several years ago, teenage rebellion, but lately you’ve felt a bit alone. You had your friends, who weren’t really all that great if you were being honest, and you had Takuma of course but all your best friends and family lived here. You missed the cold weather, the snow, the wide open space that city life back there was lacking. You sort of felt like you were being pulled in two separate directions. Homesick and lovesick, you just wished there was a cure. Where everything could be in one place. Then there was the glaring fact of Takuma’s dangerous job. That had you unable to sleep the nights he was out working. Laying on the cold side of the pillow wondered if tonight will be the night he doesn’t make it home. It was really fucking with you lately. Which is why you planned the trip back home on thanksgiving and Christmas, maybe to ease some pain in your heart.

“Alright, I fixed up your room so if you guys wanna rest for a bit dinner will be ready by six.” Your mom says.

“Where’s Dad?” You ask.

“Late, work has been crazy. He’ll be home around six.” She says as you nod your head.

You lead Takuma upstairs, pushing open the door to your old bedroom. Your mom redecorated it a few years ago, thank god. You’d be humiliated if Takuma saw your old one direction posters. Takuma dropped the bags on the floor and fell onto the bed. You kicked off your shoes and shimmied out of your jacket. Takuma leaned up on his forearms, giving you that look. You cocked your head and bit back a grin.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that.” You say walking a bit closer. He leans up, reaching for your thighs to pull you closer.

“Like what?” He asks innocently, large fingers wrapping around you as you bury your fingers into his hair. His eyes glistened in the dim light of your room.

“You know.” You may as he gives a quick tug and you fall on top of him, legs spread to straddle his legs. His hands travel up and rest just at your hips. “My mom is right downstairs. You’re going to make a terrible impression.” You half laugh as his lips press softly against your open throat.

“Me? You’re the one who can never keep quiet.” He says muffled against you. You blush deeply remembering the time you met his parents. You two had snuck off and got caught by his cousins. It was humiliating. His lips travel up to your jaw, kissing softly. You shudder, pushing him back onto the bed, caging his body with yours.

“Maybe I should make a mess out of you then, see how you like it.” You say teasingly, pressing your knee between his legs. He jolts at the contact, a strangled noise escaping his lips.

“Shit,” he gasps. “No, no, you’re right. It’s not smart.” He said as you laughed, moving off of him. His hands are still on you though, as though he’d really like to take a chance.

“We should’ve stayed in a hotel.” You sigh, reaching to pull the blankets out from under you. Takuma snorts at that, helping as you two get under the covers. He pulls you against him, wrapping an arm around your back.

“Are the walls that thin?” He asks as you nod your head against his chest.

“Trust me they are.”

“I don’t wanna think about why you know that.” He mumbles in the dark as you giggle.

Your father was about fifteen minutes late and he came rushing inside, profusely apologizing and kissing your mom on the cheek as he entered. His eyes found you and lit up. You rushed to him as he grabbed you up, spinning you around. You giggled. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hi pumpkin, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Dad.” You beamed. Takuma was a few steps behind you as he held out a hand to greet your father. Your dad glanced at the hand and shook his head.

“Bring it in, son, it’s Christmas.” Your Sad said as Takuma breathed out a soft laugh, meeting your Dad in a hug. Your heart soared. None of your other boyfriends ever made it past a second trip to your parent’s house. Not a single one. Your father usually had his mind made up the first time. It seems as though Takuma made a good first impression.

You sat beside Takuma at the table, he held your hand underneath the entire dinner, even as your hands went clammy. It was cute. The dinner went over better than you could’ve imagined. You had never seen your Dad laugh so much, he was usually somewhat serious. But Takuma was funny, that was one of the many things you found attractive about him. He was charismatic and charming, you never stood a chance staying single around him. After dinner Takuma helped your mom clean up as you and your Dad drank cocoa in the living room.

“Pumpkin,” Your dad started as you turned to him. “I think this one’s good.” He motions to the kitchen. Your heart swells.

“He is.” You say, there was a sort of swoon to your tone.

“A lot better than that last one you brought home that one was fucking-“

“Annoying.” You finished with a laugh as your Dad nodded his head, making a face as he remembered.

“I can tell he cares and as much as I don’t want you married off states away from your family I guess I wouldn’t mind if it was with that boy.” You stared at your Dad, feeling slightly choked up.

“Won, that’s uh- thanks Dad.” You said, sipping the hot drink, but you couldn't stop the tears from falling. Your Dad noticed.

“Oh honey, did I upset you?” He asks as you shake your head.

“No! No of course not its-- I,” You buried your face in your hands. Saying it outloud would make the things you felt finally real. You weren’t ready for that. Your Dad reached for you, pulling you into a hug. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, hugging you tightly.

“What is it then?” He asks. You didn’t want to talk about it. Today was a happy day. Your family liked Takuma. You loved Takuma. You weren’t ready for things to change. Things were starting to feel normal.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Takuma’s voice came from the threshold of the kitchen. Your teary eyes slid to his. Fuck. You turned and pressed a kiss to your Dad’s cheek. Getting up you reached for Takuma’s hand, pulling him upstairs to your room. “What’s going on?” He asks as you press the door closed behind you. You blow out a breath, everything hitting you at once. Tears slid down your cheek in a hurried rush, clearly taking advantage of you finally letting them fall. Takuma was across the room in a split second, pulling you against his chest, kissing your forehead and holding you tightly. You sniffled, his scent strong, warmth and cashmere. He ran his hand through the back of your hair and just held you until you calmed down.

“I don’t want things to change.” You said, your voice sounding pathetically sad. Takuma pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his. He reaches and rubs the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

“What things, Baby?” He asks, eyes searching. You swallowed.

“Us.” You say. He looks at you for a long moment, slowly cocking his head before shaking it.

“Us?” He echoes. You let your eyes fall closed, annoyed at how you’ve thought about this shit for months but couldn’t form the right words right now.

“I didn’t wanna do this but my Dad-- he said something.” You say.

“What he’d say?” He asks, concerned about his features, looking as though he might take care of your father for you.

“It’s not like that, he- he meant well.”

“What’d he say, baby?”

“He said he’d be okay if we got married.” You say, letting your eyes drift back up to Takuma’s. He’s gently biting his lower lip.

“Really?” He asks, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. You nod your head.

“And that’s not something you want?”

“Of course it’s something I want,” You say in a rush, not wanting him to think you didn’t want him, not even for a second. You wanted him. Forever if you could. He slowly nods his head, trying to understand. “I’m sorry, I wanted to know what I was going to say before I said it.” You sigh. “I want to marry you, that’s something you want to, right?” Takuma looks at you like that's a stupid question. He nods his head. “Then there are things I have to say.”

“Okay,” Takuma says softly. You take his hand and walk across the room, sitting down side by side on the bed. You remembered years spent in this room. Dreaming of the moment you fell in love. Writing little stories in your journal until the sun rises in the sky. Reading them to your family at breakfast. You remember the first boy you brought in here, how he made fun of the books on your nightstand. The second boy you brought home got in a screaming match with your dad. The third one apparently was fucking annoying. And now the fourth. Takuma. There wouldn’t be a fifth. This one was the love of your life, you fucking knew it. It was the love your parents had.

“I can’t stay with you if you continue to be a sorcerer.” You say and the weight of it leaves your shoulders and presses down on your chest. The look on Takuma’s face. There were no words to describe the confusion, the hurt, the whirling of emotions.

“Oh,” He says. That’s all he says.

“Ino, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do this on Christmas but it is something I’ve been thinking about. Especially lately.”

“Why did you talk to me about it?”

“Because- because I know how much you love it.” Tears well up again. Fuck you hated crying. You never used to cry but now it came so damn easily.

“I do. I do love it.” He says and your heart breaks a little.

“I know you do.” You say and your words sound so damn sad. Takuma’s warm hands find yours, lacing his fingers with yours. You take in a breath and clear your throat. “I’ve thought about it ever since Thanksgiving. How my parents seemed to like you. How you being home with me just felt right. How much I love you. Then my Dad says something about marriage and suddenly it hits me. I don’t want to be married years from now waiting by the door while you're out at a job. Wondering if you're going to make it home. Wondering if one of those fucking monsters got you. You told me yourself how many sorcerers die and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that because, Ino, I don’t want to be without you. I don’t want to know how it feels to lose you.” Tears were coming steadily now. You look and see that Takuma is crying too, he’s nodding his head as though he understands.

“I didn’t- I never thought about it. Jesus…” He sighs, pulling you into the tightest hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Y/N.” He mumbles into your hair. “I got so caught up in working I never stopped to think about how it would affect you.” He says and you feel that weight lifting from your heart. “I like being a sorcerer, but I love you, of course I’d choose you. I’d choose you anyday, anytime, anyway.” He vows, pulling back, he’s smiling, he’s kissing you. This was all sort of a surprise, you really thought it was selfish to make him choose, thought you’d push him away. “I love you. Fuck sorcery.”

“Ino, are you sure-” He’s kissing the doubt from your lips.

“I’m sure,” he says softly against your lips sending shivers down your spine.

“Marry me then.” You say and Takuma pulls back, a stricken look on his face. You meant it. He’s shaking his head.

“Asshole,” He says and it pulls a surprised laugh from your lips. “I had a whole thing planned.”

“Can we forget what I said then?” You ask and he laughs heartily, pulling you back to his lips, kissing you softly. “There’s one last thing,” You say.

“You want to move back home.” He says, it’s like he read your mind. “I had a feeling when you pretended not to cry on the way back from thanksgiving.”

“I miss my family.” You say, Takuma smiles.

“I know. I’m fine with that, I like it here.” Takuma says. As far as you know Takuma didn’t get along much with his family which is why he was so eager to impress them.

“Are you sure? Because we don’t have to move.”

“I want to, baby. Being here feels right.” You can’t help but smile.

“We don’t have to worry about that now.” You say, wiping your face as Takuma leans and presses his lips against your own for a long moment. Then he’s pressing against you as you pull him down on top of you on the bed. His hand grips the back of your thigh, hiking it up as his core presses against yours. You both make some noises as the kisses get messier, more desperate. Your cold hands slip under his sweater, sliding against the cut of his abs. He shivers under your touch. The building tension growing. Something else has grown, pushing against the inside of your thigh as your hands travel around his back, pulling his weight fully on you. His lips kiss a trail to your neck. His other hand sliding down your stomach to the button of your jeans. Fingers deftly unbuttoning your pants, dipping slowly under the waistband.

There’s a knock on the door that has Takuma’s hand springing out of your pants.

“Hi, honey, just wanted to check on you guys, is everything alright?” You heard your mom from outside the door. Takuma’s head fell on your chest as he sighed, defeated, you bit your lip to keep from laughing too loudly.

“We’re fine, be down in a minute!” You called out as Takuma groaned against you.

“I don’t think I can make it this whole weekend.” He whined as you pushed up off the bed, pulling him with you.

“Don’t you sorcerer's exercise restraint?” You tease as he grabs you by the waist making you yelp slightly, dissolving into laughter.

“You’re really funny,” He says, leaning and pressing his lips against yours. He really can’t keep his hands off you as you two find yourselves falling back into the bed again and again that weekend.

#fem reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #takuma ino #ino takuma #ino x reader #ino jjk #ino smut #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino x you

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riverofrainbows · 16 days

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Something I love about Terry Pratchett's books, and why i love the ankh morpork books so much, is that he also loved civilisation.

And i don't mean "force technological progress, all hail harsh and unforgiving bureaucracies, plow down everything that was before", i mean that when a bunch of people live together, then you need to organise The Public to make their lives good. And not against, but in service of the people living there. The small minded, unpleasant, nosy, selfish people. All of them.

And civilisation needs tireless small acts and work to build something that is larger than the sum of it's parts, and it's annoying, and sometimes hard to see the big picture, and you cannot do it alone.

But, when you don't forcibly stop them, many many people will look at a bunch of resources at their disposal, and say "so how can we organise them so that they help people the most efficiently, that we can make life easier for all people".

And that's why i weep with joy when i see this happening in real life, whenever there is something structured with the goal of people living there (and not just existing and being wrung dry for the benefit of others).

And i feel like Terry Pratchett felt the same.

And while you can also see it in the witch books, and very clearly at that, many people like to idealise rural life and write off urban life as hollow. And that's why i singled out the ankh morpork books, because ankh morpork has all the things people claim as negative about city life, and still says "look at the beauty of humanity and being alive".

The utter beauty of the postal service, of bureaucracy, of maintained streets and the white chalk horse. Of streets so old they burrowed into the ground, of canalisation, of records maintained since thousands of years.

#own post #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #civilisation

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tombofthemummy · 17 days

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THE WHITE PHARAOH

This man (The WHITE PHARAOH) is the one being that I hate the most in the world.

His horrific antics exceed any kind of annoyance I have ever felt towards anyone, HUMAN or otherwise, LIVING or otherwise, PHARAOH or otherwise, WHITE or otherwise. His existence is an atrocity on the concept of being a PHARAOH.

1: HIS UNJUST WAYS

I myself am an EVIL MUMMY, often killing people for fun and to defend my TOMB. However, the WHITE PHARAOH does far worse things for far worse reasons. His continued enslavement of people with MINIMUM WAGE for the sole purpose of building more PYRAMIDS is awful, and he likely thinks of himself as a good person.

2: HIS IMMEASURABLE GREED

Any PHARAOH will tell you that all you need is 1 good PYRAMID. So why does he want more? My one PYRAMID has a COMBAT ARENA, a GIANT PIT, a BAR, a SARCOPHAGUS CHAMBER, a PUZZLE ROOM, and much, much more. What more could the WHITE PHARAOH want from hundreds of PYRAMIDS? He is going to sell CHARCUTERIE BOARDS and WINE in shops in the PYRAMIDS? He is going to sleep in 100 TOMBS? It sickens me. His GREED for PYRAMIDS is horrendous.

3: HIS LIES

I know for a FACT that the WHITE PHARAOH is not, will not be, and has never been a real PHARAOH. His HEADDRESS was stolen from a TOMB, and he has never been to EGYPT. His insistence that he is The WHITE PHARAOH comes from a twisted view of EGYPTIAN SOCIETY that he wishes to appropriate. His OBSESSION with PYRAMIDS has spurred him to build an EMPIRE of LIES so he can control more of the world in unjust ways.

4: WHITE

The WHITE PHARAOH says things like "aw shucks," calls people "Pal," and is always eating some CHEESE AND CRACKERS. It isn't morally reprehensible, but it is very annoying. There are few people WHITER than the WHITE PHARAOH in his irritating mannerisms of the ANGLO-SAXONS. Normally, I would be okay with someone being so WHITE, but in conjunction with his AWFUL PERSONALITY and EVIL WAYS, it becomes far worse.

5: HIS MUMMY DISCRIMINATION

Some may recall that in a PRESS CONFERENCE, the WHITE PHARAOH stated that he would not be MUMMIFIED because it's "gross and ugly." As a MUMMY, I found myself terribly offended. But to make matters worse, he constantly alludes to his HATRED OF MUMMIES elsewhere. In the televised HOMEOWNERS ASSOCIATION MEETING of the WHITE PHARAOH'S EMPIRE, he gave an entire speech about how PHARAOHS should not be MUMMIFIED, and every PHARAOH that is now a MUMMY should be unraveled and buried in a CEMETERY like "normal people." He mentioned ANIMATED MUMMIES as one of the worst things of all time, and said that every MUMMY who is alive in any way (like ME) should be KILLED. I need not elaborate how terrible of a person this makes him.

THE WHITE PHARAOH SHOULD BE HATED BY ALL

I know that when the WHITE PHARAOH dies, for a reason that I hope is me KILLING him myself, or some other extremely painful event, ANUBIS will be waiting for him. When his HEART is placed on the SCALE, it will be so heavy and drop with such force that it will immediately SLAM into the GROUND, shaking the EARTH in the LAND OF THE DEAD and catapulting the FEATHER into the sky.

The WHITE PHARAOH deserves nothing that he has. His POWER, his WEALTH, his HEADDRESS. He is worthy of none of them. The WHITE PHARAOH is a truly horrible being and I wish nothing but the most painful suffering on him for eternity.

I hope each and every one of his PYRAMIDS falls and crumbles into SAND scattered across the houses of the UTAH SUBURBS.

Words cannot describe how much I hate the WHITE PHARAOH.

#the white pharaoh #white pharaoh #hatred #violence #rage

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sugar-plum-writer · 4 months

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A God Has Descended to Earth

Paring: Gojo Satrou x fem!reader Tags: God complex, one-shot, what happens when a god like existence on Earth makes you wonder? if all the gods you knew were fake A/n: I just wrote this after being inspired from Lana's - "Salvatore", I have listened to it many times but this version of it being in a cathedral unblocked my writers block. The echo, the reverberation, and blue cathedral inspired me to write some lines and it evolved to this lol~ I hope you guys like it! pls leave a comment for any feedback if you like it!

Throughout the lands and the sky above, beyond the glistening stars the breeze itself seemed to freeze to not disturb his walk. Black, white and blue sky, a gold painted sun cathedral with echo's of power resonating through each crevice swirling like the depth of oceans, and storming like a titanic on the clouds

Stepping down he looked like a God

using the sky itself as a staircase he stepped down, elegantly- playfully smirking, he needed no cathedral, he needed no church or temple, why? The sky was his, the sky was the cathedral, the only place high enough for a man like him to look down on the world and be worshiped.

No throne was worthy enough for him, none dared to bear his weight, no gold or diamonds needed to show his wealth, Afterall, which diamonds could ever compare to the azure blue painting his eyes reflecting the sun and the ocean in it's wake.

The sky was his, it exists because he exists, with just a drop of his power thousands could be ripped till bones and daggers cannot be forged. Having the strength to take the Earth from the back of Atlas and bear it on his mere hands; spinning it like a child spinning the globe. As if it was the most weightless object in the world.

How did such a man exist- was beyond you, having heard about him through many people, calling him annoying, cocky, over-confident, but one thing the whole world agreed on- he was the strongest. You laughed it off as you heard many things related to him, so many stories a 1000 nights couldn't match up, wondering if you could meet this man known as the strongest yourself

Until, you saw him, the man himself walking down from the sky

Sharp cuts on your body stung dripping with blood, making you beg your nerves to stop feeling this piercing pain. If it stopped you could focus more, hot blood drenched a side of your face, blurring your vision hazy, it smelled like iron and tasted disgusting on your throat making you want to vomit

Seeing him made your breath stop, world stop, the chaos fell silent and deaf to your ears- looking at him breathless as he walked towards you not even realizing the curse you were fighting was still alive

With a light grin he raised his hand

"Red"

Such a simple word, just 1 syllable

Obliterated half of the area you were standing flat, grimy blood of the curse splattered on the wall behind you- with a crater big enough to hold an elephant, but rather than horror it looked like a painting- a painting of raw power

Is this what ultimate power looks like?

The curse you struggled to fight against, gasping for breath in every killing blow, small cuts graced your body making your skin be basked in crimson, nearly dying fighting this curse and for him it was just

One Syllable

You stared at him, stunned to speak, he did not avert your gaze rather kept looking in your eyes, the azure eyes melting into your own- evoking the feeling of your soul being consumed by him

Gently raising his hand- he brushed your hair aside- though his hands got covered in your blood he paid no mind

"My My~ that's quite an expression you've got their my dear"

leaning in his lips close to yours- inches apart- gaze unwavering looking into your heart

"A-Are you a God?"

You do not know why such words came from your mouth, they just did, as if wanting to know, if the god you have been worshipping your whole life was fake

"Am I?"

He chuckled

"If I am, will you go down on your knees and worship me? will my name be the only prayer on your lips? Answer me dear? Will you?"

With a light smile he said the words as if they are weightless- even a god declaring his words would make himself look mighty, is he above a God?

"If so"

"Kneel"

Link to my Masterlist in case you want to read other works of mine

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iznsfw · 1 year

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Eunbi and Taeyeon threesome where Taeyeon unnie teaches Eunbi how to properly please her man 👀

In Absentia Lucis, Tenebrae Vincunt

Part two of Dulce Periculum | Previous Part | Next Chapter

Girls Generation's Kim Taeyeon x IZ*ONE's Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

10,144 words

Categories | sex-ed_professor!Taeyeon x valedictorian!Eunbi x student!Reader, mommy kink, lesbian sex, squirting, breeding

Content warning | teacher/student relationship, age gap (all legal, needless to say), slapping, degradation

mobile masterlist | masterlist

This piece is edited by and dedicated to @midnightdancingsol and @capslocked, two of my favorite writers. Thank you so much, I appreciate it! Originally had a different plot, but ideas hit, and I've been working on this ever since. There wasn't supposed to be mommy kink here, but then I realized that no one has written Eunbi calling someone mommy here before, so I wanted to try that but with my top two, Taengoo ;) IZ's best girls coming your way... now!

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The clock says 10 AM sharp, and the skies are a warm sight of lively blue. Morning has long been here, yet for Kwon Eunbi, it’s an hour she can view as nighttime. With the school uniform keeping her warm from the wind of the powerful air-conditioner, she feels right at home. For once, she cares not for paying attention to lectures or reprimanding her classmates’ buzzing conversations. For once, she puts herself first—not her schoolwork, not her classmates, but her.

It’s not like she can continue her usual routine of studying even if she wanted to. Her body’s worn from endless days of studying and playing. Her forearms, formerly milky white, are now peppered with purple bruises. With the number of textbooks she’s flipped through under a flickering lamplight, it’s likely that she'll need to replace the lens of her round prescription glasses.

Still, she’s Sleeping Beauty herself. Chocolate hair falls messily but prettily over the pillow she rests on (AKA your arm) as she finds solace in slumber. The softest of snores barely make it past her full lips pressed together.

You gently rock her side to side, admiring how pretty she is even when she’s resting.

Too bad she's sleeping due to stress.

During class.

For a girl like her, classes are a lifeline. School in general is. She would never dare fall asleep in class. However, here’s the deal: she’s been put through stress harsher than the healthy amount (stress can be healthy, you’d argue, because if someone has nothing to stress about, then surely they aren’t alive?), and she’s starting to give out. Her grades start to stagger as time goes by. She almost passed out during volleyball training and could barely button her uniform right for school because of how tired she is. Eunbi’s leading the volleyball team for your senior year after all; it should be expected, but it just isn’t fair for her, and especially not for you, the one you’d argue cares for her the most.

Seeing her tired and battered makes you refuse to rouse her. She deserves the rest, more than anyone.

Jo Yuri, the annoying kid in class sitting at the desk beside you, thinks otherwise. She raises her hand high in the air mid-discussion of the importance of condoms, attracting the attention of your teacher.

“Professor Kim!” says Yuri; she stands up proudly. Roll your eyes at her, warning her to stay in her lane, but when has Jo Yuri ever done that? She quirks her brows back at you mockingly.

Kim Taeyeon glances at the girl's direction. Shit. Wait, she might have missed her—she’s looking back at Yuri with an inquisitive look. “Yes, miss Jo?” she asks.

“Eunbi is sleeping.”

“I see that,” says Taeyeon simply. She looks at Yuri from behind her gray-framed glasses with a slightly squinted look. “Anything else less of the obvious I should be informed of?”

A few small chuckles pass around the room. Although people won’t say it directly to Yuri, they all revel in her humiliation. Yuri’s the definition of a brat, and not the good kind. Her parents have funded the school's activities for decades, and because of that, she thinks she’s got a one-way ticket out of anything.

Unfortunately, you aren’t the train conductor. You can’t usher her away for every passenger’s convenience.

“W-well,” Yuri answers, a little unsurely now, “isn’t it basic class etiquette to be alert for discussions? You can’t make an exception for her.”

Taeyeon’s lips create a small, sarcastic smile.

“Kwon Eunbi works hard, Miss Jo,” Taeyeon says. “If anyone deserves a cut of slack, I’d say that it's her, someone who’s been truly conscientious, and not one who doesn’t put in effort even from a place where most of it has been done for her.”

Yuri’s cheeks transform into two red roses. “B-but, but you scolded me when I fell asleep during class.”

“That’s because you’re not an honor student, Miss Jo.”

The quietness is almost death-like. If it went on any longer, the classroom could become a graveyard. Everyone’s thinking the same thing. You can see it from the looks in their undead eyes.

“Now, Yuri,” continues Taeyeon, smiling, “would you like to say anything else?”

“No, Professor.”

“I thought so. Please take your seat.”

Taeyeon lifts her gaze from Yuri. She then addresses all of you, the calm yet piercing look in her eyes never fading.

“It would do us well if the only interruptions my class will have from now on are insightful questions and answers.

“Shall we continue?”

The class murmurs in response, their words echoing in the room. Yuri glowers in her seat, suddenly taking particular interest in her manicured nails. Even from afar, you can see her red ears.

The combined choir of young voices responding to Taeyeon rouses Eunbi from her sleep. Her eyelids flutter, and she gazes at you with sleepy eyes. She still hasn’t registered everything.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you say with a grin.

Eunbi looks at her surroundings, then at Taeyeon, who’s continuing to teach.

“Oh God, oh fucking fuck.”

Suddenly, her notebook and pen are all on her table, clicked and open. She glances at you with panic in her beautiful face. “What did I miss?” she asks frantically.

You don’t know how to tell her that you’ve witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime sighting: the annoying kid getting a taste of their own medicine.

But you smile instead.

“Nothing, babe.” You kiss her forehead. “A whole lot of nothing.”

“Class dismissed,” Taeyeon announces. “Have fun at the intramurals, everyone!”

The class files out rather slowly. Some are caught up in conversation about her earlier scolding of Yuri, and others are still arranging their books into their backpacks. Whoever’s already taking their exits are yelling their goodbyes, waving at her cheerfully; she waves at them, too, with a kind smile of her own. Despite her strict upholding of rules in class and her no-bullshit approach to discipline, she wants to show her students that she’s still a good teacher. She remains the same: someone who wishes to make a healthy connection with her students.

The last to leave are the boy and his little valedictorian of a girlfriend. It’s been a year since they two had gotten closer. Although they never officially announced it, Taeyeon can see the status of their relationship in the little things: their joined hands that draw envious looks, Eunbi's head on his arm, and the playful touches. It’s sweet seeing connections grow between her pupils, but she can’t help feeling a little...

Jealous?

Is that what it is? Taeyeon contemplates as she sits back down.

Yes, she is jealous, but not because she misses the proud, youthful feeling of being an adult nearly out of high school. She misses those days, that’s for sure, but it isn’t the root of her feelings. (She’s certain—not entirely yet—that it’s because of their relationship.

She’s only been teaching for a year, so she makes it a habit to catch a pretty face among the masses. For example, Kim Minju is pretty, but the honor student has a different kind of prettiness in her possession. It... attracts her.

And so does the boy.)

Said boy looks at Eunbi expectantly whilst he waits at the doorway. He’s the delinquent, isn’t he? His wrinkled uniform is enough indication—the punks always dress like that no matter the dress code or situation. They could be at their grandfather’s funeral and they’d still dress like a missing kid who’s learned to adapt to the streets.

“You coming, Eunbi-ya?” he asks her.

Does he ask her that privately? When he’s fucking her? When he’s pinning her down to the bed while her parents are out of town, as he gives her a hard and well-deserved pounding? He’d look so good doing that; he's far more attractive than he likes to make it to be. He’s nineteen, after all—boys are still like that at that age, even though they’re barely teenagers anymore.

Taeyeon can’t take her eyes off him. She doesn’t know how to; it’s like they're permanently glued to his movements, like she's only capable of looking at him and nothing and no one else.

What do her moans sound like when he’s fucking her?

Turns out she can, but only for the girl. She’s saying something to her boyfriend, but with how much she’s absorbing her—her body, her face, her cute little smile—she doesn’t quite hear everything.

Her moans would sound so pretty; she speaks so prettily that she’d sound good even when she’s below him. She’s a screamer, I bet, she looks like the type of girl who’d cry when—

“Professor? Excuse me, professor?”

Speak of the fucking devil (... angel?).

It was unusual of her to be caught by her students without her guard up. She has to remain focused. When those large, bouncy things are directly under her nose only restrained by a school blouse a tad too small, it’s difficult to.

“Yes, Miss Kwon?” asks Taeyeon, brought back to Earth.

“Um.”

Eunbi has her hands behind her back. Her eyelashes flutter beautifully as she guiltily fails to meet her eyes, leaving much to Taeyeon’s imagination about a fictive good little Eunbi, who’d sit on her teacher’s plaid-skirted lap and say soft, innocent things like that and—and—

“I’m sorry for falling asleep in class,” Eunbi says in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to. I was just so tired, I… I couldn’t help it. And I know that’s not a good excuse—”

I swear, if you put your tits in my face one more fucking time, rambles the voice in Taeyeon’s head—(it’s been there for a while now, and comes to life whenever she sees the wind blow Eunbi’s skirt up just right, or when the school collar fails to hide the forbidden view when she bends down to pick up a fallen pencil); it’s not my fault anymore if I do anything.

It’s such a raw, wrong thought, because it isn’t Eunbi’s fault either that she’s so tempting. It’s not her fault that those lips of hers curl downwards in the cutest, most pitiable angle or that her body is naturally carved to fit more than a handful. However, when one knows what they feel is morally repulsive, they tend to put the blame on anyone else but themselves.

“Water under the bridge, miss Kwon. We all have our moments.”

Eunbi looks surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” Taeyeon repeats.

Eunbi smiles widely. Even the way she grins is pretty. “Thank you, professor,” she says gratefully, bowing ninety degrees.

Taeyeon chuckles amusedly. “No need to bow like I’m an emperor, of course. Just do your best in the intramurals. I believe in you.”

“Yes—”

“(,) but I don’t think I can do this. Please, oppa.”

“Eunbi, that’s nonsense. You’re a great player, you’re gonna be fine.”

Star player and top student Kwon Eunbi squirms fearfully. That many achievements to her name and she still has doubts about her own abilities.

“I'm... I'm really not,” she says in a small voice.

She looks around the covered court with fear dancing in her large brown eyes. All these students—her classmates, anyway—are rooting for her. Thirty-six and more have all laid their eyes and expectations on her. She figures that’s probably what scares her more rather than the game itself.

“I don't want to do this,” she whines.

“But you can’t do anything about it now, can you, baby?” you ask her. Your hands frame her nervous face, rubbing your thumbs over her cheeks.

“I can, actually,” she says. “I can just go up there, say ‘oh, fuck this, fuck you all; I’m not doing it,’ watch them go bananas over it.”

Her lips have a sarcastic side to the smile it holds, but you know her. You know that she’s actually considering it. For the first time in her school life, she’s contemplating ditching it all for something, anything that isn’t this game.

She’s looking down at her rubber shoes again, but you raise her face to look you in the eyes. “You signed up to play. You’re a varsity player now. So you have to go do it whether you like it or not.”

Eunbi presses her forehead to yours and closes her eyes with a sigh. “I know,” she whispers. “I know.”

Considering your first intimate encounter was rough lustful sex, the two of you actually really care about each other. It made you realize that your crush on her isn’t purely from lust. You care about her, and you’re not happy about the amount of stress she's been under. To be fair, the whole school is suffering, including you, but you’re a known failure. You couldn’t give less of a fuck if your future transformed into a person, went on its knees, and begged you to take it seriously. Exam season is another Tuesday to you: nothing to care about, nothing new.

But for Eunbi? Exams and games mean everything. She has her reputation of being an honor student and overachiever to maintain. She has her parents, who are constantly pressuring her to join every extracurricular activity under the sun, to please. Additionally, due to a particular school board teacher’s brilliant idea to schedule the intramurals a week before the exam season, she has to juggle hours of eternal volleyball practice and studying and tutoring students to make it through the year. She barely has time in her packed schedule to breathe.

While the students on the bleachers are roaring and cheering excitedly in their color-coded shirts, she's in a tight sleeveless white shirt stressed to death.

There’s only a few minutes until the most important volleyball match of her life. What could go wrong?

(Everything.)

“Baby,” you say softly. “Baby, listen to me.”

Near tears, Eunbi looks up at you. “Yeah?” she asks.

You kiss her sore fingers, the insides of her thin wrists, and the bruises from the volleyball that mark her forearms. Kiss her where it validates her pain. Kiss her where it hurts. Kiss her where it means something.

“Whatever happens in the game,” you tell her truthfully, “I’ll still love you. I’ll still be proud of you. So just do your best for me, okay? I’ll be there all the way.”

“You promise?” Eunbi raises two fingers wrapped in medical tape.

“I promise.” Make your promise by gently grasping the digits she holds up. “Hell, I bet Professor Kim would be holding up a ‘Kwon Eunbi 4 The National Team’ tarpaulin.”

Eunbi giggles. You both know who you’re referring to: your sex ed professor, Kim Taeyeon. She started teaching at your high school just this senior year, and looks young for her age. Many students adore her, but she only really has one favorite, Eunbi. Always particularly sweet with her, just like earlier, and always attentive to her intelligent questions. If it weren’t for Eunbi being eighteen going on nineteen and in high school and Taeyeon a teacher, anyone would have thought the latter had a crush on her.

Her defense of Eunbi earlier just adds to your suspicions.

If Eunbi reciprocates those alleged feelings, you’d see why. Taeyeon is a charmer. She’s watching the basketball game with crossed arms and a stern look behind her round spectacles. Without saying anything, she attracts people. Anyone can see how beautiful Taeyeon is. She gave a short welcoming speech earlier and you could hear the oohs and ahhs of both parents and students alike.

“Oh, hush,” Eunbi says, waving it off, but she’s visibly more cheered up. “She likes me, but not that much.”

“If she liked you less, she wouldn’t have let you off the hook for napping.”

“It’s called empathy, dear oppa,” says Eunbi, flicking your forehead. “Don’t s’pose you know what that means.”

“Someone’s got a crush on their sex ed teacher.”

“And if I do, so what? She’s really beautiful.”

Take your biased eyes off Eunbi and you’d see that she’s beyond the statement of just “really beautiful.” Taeyeon has the look and aura of an older friend who’s blunt but loving, and would help you out of sticky situations, but not without tough-love advice. Her hair and minimal makeup always look perfect and natural, besides the fact that she looks quite young for her age.

But you won’t see that until later.

“See? If you need anyone to do your best besides me, do it for professor,” you add to make her laugh. “Okay?”

Eunbi wipes the last of her tears. She’s chuckling as she shakes her head at her current emotions. She’s Kwon Eunbi, for fuck’s sake, why is she like this? “Okay,” she says. She sounds a little more assured now. “I will. Thank you, oppa. I love you.”

“Same here.” You kiss her cheek. Comb your fingers through tangled strands of her side fringes left unrestrained by her high ponytail and pat her shoulder. “Ready?”

“Yep. Never been more ready.”

Eunbi’s team lost the game.

It wasn’t her fault. A lot of her volleyball teammates kept missing whenever the white ball was plunged back over the net. And by “a lot,” you mean fucking every one of them. She basically hardcarried the team. More bruises started to appear on her beautiful arms, and she looked more and more discouraged as the game time quickly passed.

The first thing she did was rush in your arms after the game.

“Oppa,” she muttered softly. She’s all sweaty and wet, but you didn’t mind. She needed you, and even if she needed you while covered head to toe with acid, you’d still hug her.

“I’m here.”

The second thing she did was weep.

“I fucked up,” Eunbi moaned, burying her head further in your shoulder. Now tears replaced the sweat that coated your skin. “I… I couldn’t catch the ball, and—”

“That’s not your fault, Eunbi. Your teammates were shit.”

Even as she continued to cry, she went to their defense. “Don’t talk about them like that. They did their best.”

If the situation wasn’t pulling her self-esteem down this much, you’d laugh in her face. “You call that best?” you asked.

Her incompetent teammates made you infuriated. They caused your girlfriend’s wane of confidence and more tears right after. It only made your anger grow from a flame to a fucking house fire.

“I… I just need a break,” she murmured. “But I never get it. It’s all just stupid fucking games, stupid fucking quiz bees. I’m just some toy to be passed around whenever there’s a competition that needs winning.” She chuckled sarcastically. “Nothing more.”

“Eunbi—”

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said firmly, putting a full stop to the conversation. She was done here. She didn’t want to go back.

Eunbi took to the school showers after that like she said, and dressed back into her little school uniform for the resumption of classes later. What you didn’t know is, after everything that happened, she still intended to get dirty.

The program is still going on. Lee Chaeyeon and the rest of the dance club are performing a dance number as an intermission. As the trendy pop beat resounded through the school grounds, Eunbi dragged you back to an empty classroom and sat you down.

“Eunbi!”

Her knees land on the tiled, classroom floor. “Mmm, just... oppa, let me do this.” Eunbi frustratedly pulls down your jeans. She wipes the back of her hand on her lips. “I saw oppa staring at my chest earlier. He was more focused on them than the game.”

She’s wrong for that. Well, partly wrong but—

“Eunbi, aren’t there—” Tap her gently on the cheek when she keeps pulling your pants down. “Eunbi, oppa’s talking.”

Eunbi looks up. “Yes, oppa?” she asks.

“Aren’t there other ways to de-stress? I—I can buy you some ice cream. Baskin Robbins, just how you like it. We can even cuddle later if you want to. It doesn’t have to always be like this.”

She’s licking your cock sloppily now, as if she needed to do it or she’d have to repeat a whole game again. Your cock is her source of serotonin and dopamine—even chemistry can’t teach her that. (Sorry, professor Myoui, you’d say; but it’s the truth.)

Eunbi, with her pouty lips and ponytail coincidentally perfect for what’s about to happen, shakes her head. “No,” she says firmly. “I want oppa’s cock right now. I don’t want anything else.”

She sucks on your cockhead severely, treating it like her own candy. The pleasure hits, even though it only affects the tip of your length. You moan softly. She moans, too, and it goes on even without touching herself. She loves being a good girl for your cock. That alone gets her off.

If the school knew of the little tutoring incident that sparked your relationship, they’d be scandalized. That part is something you know secretly makes her wetter than you can imagine. The cliché, teen love story-ness of it all—you, a guy who wouldn't give two fucks about school even if you were paid to do it, and her, someone who’d die rather than put off a day of studying but would get on her plaid skirt coated knees for you—is something she’d like to roll her eyes at, but it's kind of destiny, isn’t it? Just like the stories.

What if they know? The teachers could suspend you. Better yet, expel you and put it on your permanent record.

Oh, but they don’t need to know about how fucking pretty Eunbi can look like when she’s being good for you. You can submit the squirms of her thick yet toned thighs, the passiveness evident in her eyes, and the eagerness her voluptuous body holds to pleasure you and herself as evidence. Nothing more is needed to prove it.

They don’t need to know.

Eunbi pauses her effortless bobs of her head to moan. “I love your cock, oppa,” she confesses, though it isn't really a confession when one thinks about how evident it is. Her tender licks already hold adoration in them.

Chuckle. You can get used to this. “More than me?” you ask.

“Nooo... oppa, I love you, too. You know that. But, hmm,” she licks your cock worshipfully, “this is number two. Mwah.”

“Good girl. You can touch yourself, you know.”

Eunbi gives you a clever grin. “I don’t have to. I have you.”

Touché.

She resumes sucking you off, letting out soft “Mmph”s of pleasure and satisfaction as she goes. Over time, she’s gotten better at giving you head. Her sloppiness begins to feel fulfilling, and she learns to make good use of her sweet, full lips as she wraps them on the sides of your cock and around it. Occasionally, she pushes up her glasses so that they don't slide off her nose while she goes about her pleasurable blowjob, which adds a more wholesome and cuter side to the daring fiasco the two of you are engaging in.

“Mmm, love this cock.” Eunbi gives loving kisses to your length. Her tongue erotically stimulates it with languid licks and sets fire to your emotions. “I can’t live without it. Hmph. All I'm ever good for.”

“Eunbi,” you say, concerned, “don't—”

“Please, oppa,” she says. Her eyes make contact with your own, and she pouts prettily. “Let me do this. I need you.”

Your cock rubs the inside of her cheek. It makes a visible imprint, making her look like she’s munching on ice. She ensures to devote soft laps of her tongue on the sides of your length. When she takes it all in, you gasp. You’re too wrapped up at her tongue also licking your heavy balls to be distracted by her whimpering. The deeper your cock goes inside her pretty mouth, the tighter her throat becomes. Her hands squeeze your thighs powerfully.

“Fuck.”

“There’s more where that came from,” she says cheekily.

“Oh yeah?”

She nods.

“Show me, then.”

Her lips part, as if going for an open-mouthed kiss, but it simply takes a couple inches of your length, caressing them with the softness of her balmed tiers and wetness of her mouth. She withdraws, then repeats, but now with more of your cock in her mouth. She looks up at you expectantly for approving reactions, but you give them, and would have given them without her expecting you to.

“Yes, fuck, yes, Eunbi.” Her hair tangles in your hand. She whines a little when your tip reaches further places down her throat. The jeers and yells of school spirit outside you’d love to join in, but you'd choose Eunbi's cute moans any day of the week, weekdays through weekends. “Take my cock. That’s a good girl. My good girl.”

Although she finds it difficult to deepthroat you, you can see her shiver at being called that. She likes it, oh, yes she does: being told she’s under your ownership, and being treated as such. With your cock fucking her tight throat and your hand pulling on her hair like you hate her rather than love her, it's all true. True and clear.

“Love you, oppa,” she says in between suckles of worship on your dick. Her eyes are watery, but now from the pleasure of having her mouth used. Oh well, it’s better than negative.

“Love you, too, sweet girl.” That’s another thing you like to call her: good girl, good sweet little thing, which sounds so corny but fits so well with her. And she likes it—and you can’t deny a good girl of being exactly that. Besides, she looks so sweet with her lips parted to fit your cock like that, and her eyes full of tears. She’d—

The door creaks open. Oh, curse interruption. Goddamned interruption.

Wait—

You look up. Oh, fuck—

“Professor!” you and Eunbi yell out in surprise.

A stuttering Eunbi withdraws her mouth from your cock, looking at her teacher with bewildered, brown eyes. You aren’t sure what exactly she’s thinking, but you can place fear in that face of hers. You’re pretty sure you look red as hell, too.

Kim Taeyeon is standing at the door. She’s watching the two of you closely. How long has she been watching? Or... or perhaps she just caught the two of you in the act? Her face holds an expression of nonchalance, like she’s been expecting this to happen.

All the earlier thoughts come back. You were so turned on by the thought of getting caught, but now that it’s happened, you realize you just put Eunbi’s future at stake. You might not care about your own, but you care about Eunbi. She has a whole, long and successful life in front of her, and you might have just ruined it.

“P-professor,” Eunbi stutters. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes grow wider as Taeyeon approaches her. With each step Taeyeon takes, she grows more scared. “It’s, it’s not what it looks like! I was just—”

“Shhh.”

Taeyeon pushes the side of her finger to Eunbi’s lips. There’s little distance between them. Eunbi’s knees would have knocked severely into Taeyeon's if not for the shushing index.

Eunbi’s flustered by their closeness. Her voice, normally so confident when stating answers in class, is broken in pathetic stutters. “P-professor,” she tries to say, weakly, her hands waving about, “it’s really not what it looks like. I was just—we were j-just…”

“Resting!” you pipe up, getting to your feet. It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing you can think of as an excuse.

Eunbi nods. “Yes! Resting! I was lying on his lap!” she adds helpfully.

Taeyeon stares at you two coldly for a few, long seconds, then chuckles softly. “Resting?” she repeats, and tilts her head to the side.

“Y-yes. And, and I was drooling, and it was—”

“Miss Kwon.”

“—really hot so I kind of, kind of fell to the—”

“Miss Kwon.” Taeyeon's eyes flare dangerously. “I told you to keep that mouth shut, didn’t I? Or do you just not listen to your teachers anymore?”

Eunbi’s eyes water. That’s the biggest insult anyone could ever tell her. School life means everything. If she couldn’t listen to her teachers, what good can she be?

You place a reassuring hand on her shoulder and step forward. “It was my fault, professor,” you say. How to get balls big enough to admit to that? Just ask Kwon Eunbi for a fucking blowjob, that's how. “I wanted a quick, uh, blow,” you wince, “so I asked her to do it for me. It wasn't her fault.”

“I knew what the two of you were doing, sweetheart. I wasn’t born yesterday. My only problem is that Eunbi doesn’t know what she’s doing, nor is she doing it properly.”

“Professor—” Eunbi tries to defend herself.

“Sit down, boy,” says Taeyeon to you. You do, hesitantly. You have no idea what’s about to happen. She gestures to Eunbi. “Miss Kwon, come here.”

Eunbi follows blindly, getting on her knees again. She’s still looking at her teacher with disoriented eyes.

“Look here, sweetheart,” Taeyeon says. She grabs Eunbi’s chin to direct her gaze to your cock. Then, she wraps her hand around your member and jerks upward. ‘Have you blown your boyfriend much?”

“S-sometimes,” says Eunbi, looking up at you unsurely. But you’re too busy gasping at your teacher's strong, firm hand to return her gaze.

“Don’t you know that the first thing you have to do is to give him a few pumps? It’s not necessary, but it’s good to get him going. Just like this.” Taeyeon slowly jerks your cock up and down, keeping a grip that’s tight but not too much that it’s uncomfortable. Her thumb rests on your cockhead to rub its sensitive surface, making you tense up.

Eunbi watches with hesitant yet curious eyes.

“Don’t go too fast now,” advises Taeyeon. “The whole point is your mouth. That’s where you want to hold nothing back. Do you understand me?”

Even as she teaches Eunbi how to pleasure you, something that's a little dangerous even for a sex ed subject, her voice remains the same as her teaching one: calm, no-nonsense, and nurturing. You’re a little turned on by it, you’re not gonna lie. Additionally, there’s Eunbi sitting there with her hands on her lap, looking like an obedient puppy as she listens to Taeyeon, ever the valedictorian.

“Yes, professor,” says Eunbi. She looks at you closely. “Oppa, are you okay?”

“Never been better,” you rasp out.

Taeyeon sifts through Eunbi's hair with her gentle fingers. “See?” she assures her. “He’s alright. He’ll feel even better when you learn how to put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Scarlet creeps onto Eunbi’s ears and face. Her thighs squirm again. “But it’s wrong,” she whispers. Uncertainty is written all over her face. “We could get in trouble for this, professor. I’m, oh, I’m so wet, b-but my grades—”

Taeyeon has had enough of her talking. She leans forward and shuts her up with a firm kiss.

Your mouth falls open.

Eunbi's pupils grow large like a cat’s in the dark. Her hands are suspended mid-air, seemingly unaware of what they should do. Meanwhile, Taeyeon has already grabbed Eunbi's tiny waist, insistent on keeping her close to her.

But then, like ice, Eunbi melts. She melts into the sin, she melts into Taeyeon. Her lips find themselves locked tighter with the older woman’s. She becomes the one who pushes forward, looking for more of that sweet taste.

Should you feel hurt? Scandalized, perhaps? Angry? You attempt to find the morally correct emotion to have in this situation, and you come to realize that you feel none of them. Instead, as you watch your teacher dominate your girlfriend in a French kiss, you’re painfully turned on.

Taeyeon lets her go after a few seconds. She cups a hand around Eunbi's full breast. Gently, she parts the buttoned lapels of the uniform and helps the girl undo her bra. Eunbi's expression remains one of disbelief and arousal. It switches to pure horniness when Taeyeon starts to suck and bite at her big, beautiful breasts. She begins to squirm, but Taeyeon holds her in place.

“Professor…” Eunbi whimpers. “Please, they’re so sensitive.”

“Shhh, let mommy do the work.” The professor squeezes the two round breasts at the same time, licking one’s nipple lovingly. “You like your teacher sucking your tits like these, Eunbi-ya?”

“Hnnn, yes,” squeaks out Eunbi, closing her eyes. “Professor, I—”

“It’s mommy,” corrects Taeyeon, kissing her student on the lips. “I thought you’d pick up on that, darling. You’re my top student, right?”

“I’m sorry, mommy. P-please suck my tits again. I’ll be a good girl.”

Never did you think that hearing your girlfriend call an older woman mommy would make you so hard. “Fuck,” you curse. You rise from the chair to join them. You’ve never heard of morality; its meaning evaporated the moment their lips joined.

“No, boy, stay there,” Taeyeon orders. “I’m going to show your girlfriend how to really ride dick.”

All of a sudden, not one article of clothing lies on Taeyeon’s body. The sweatshirt and jeans no longer hide her beautiful figure. Now, you can behold the glory of her body completely. Her form is toned and small. Her pilates, which she talks about when asked during classes, really helped carve her perfect belly. Her pink nipples, hard from the air-conditioner wind, sit on top of her handful-sized breasts, begging to be touched.

Eunbi looks like she’s just seen a goddess. Her worshipful gaze runs up and down the professor’s buttocks and breasts. Most importantly, there’s Taeyeon’s small, shaved pussy to marvel at. “Mommy,” your girlfriend says, “mommy, you’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you, baby,” says Taeyeon, bearing a confident smile. “Watch and learn, okay? And you,” she looks over at you, and leans down so only you can hear as she whispers: “Try not to cum so fast.”

You’d defend yourself if she didn’t slam her beautiful ass so quickly on your lap. That’s when your cock slips inside her, causing the both of you to moan and, additionally, for you to figure out exactly why she told you that. Your teacher is so fucking tight. Your cock immediately is covered by her juices, from base to tip.

“Oh, fuck!” Taeyeon cries out. Both her eyes and mouth become round at the pleasure she takes in. She looks at Eunbi in disbelief. “You really take this dick everyday?”

Eunbi doesn’t know how to respond. All that comes out of her mouth are moans. You suppose she’s a bit lost about what to feel right now as well. Perhaps she’s rejecting what she feels, which is turned on. But that can’t be it: her fingers are already under her skirt, trying to replicate the pleasure Taeyeon must feel about your dick.

“D-does it feel good, mommy?” she can’t help but ask. A small part of her young heart is mortified at the scene of her boyfriend fucking another woman, but another part is curious. She’s never seen her teacher in this state, and probably never will again. Eunbi’s mind is voracious on any hints of pleasure Taeyeon feels.

“Y-yes, oh my god,” says Taeyeon. She tries to maintain a neutral expression, but fails. “See what I’m doing? Circle, fuck, your hips a bit, just like this, s-so it feels good for you, too.”

Taeyeon lifts her hips a little, letting the rest of your length breathe for a little while. “Then take a few of it inside to get ready. You just have to get used to the size. After you’re used to it, you can start riding him.”

You’re left breathless in the wooden school chair as your sex ed teacher does exactly that. After riding only the first couple inches of your dick, she starts violently slamming herself up and down. You have to hold on to her muscular thighs to subconsciously direct her to slow down. And she does, but still not at a pace you can take. Her breasts keep bouncing in front of your face, as if they were asking you to devour them or choose death. And, with Taeyeon’s slick, tight cunt around you, you really don’t want to die yet.

Capture her breast in your mouth. Her sharp fingernails press down on your scalp. Her pitched moans beat on your eardrums. You can barely even hear Eunbi’s soft cries of pleasure anymore, nor can you place the sound of skin slapping and touching. Even the outside sounds of students cheering and referees narrating sound inaudible when Taeyeon’s obscene moans fill too much of the atmosphere.

“Good boy, bounce me on that big fucking cock,” growls Taeyeon. Her pussy grows impossibly tight, and you’re forced to perform your own upward thrusts to continue penetrating your painfully hot teacher. “Give our girl a show, you know you want to.”

You’re not a submissive guy, but you can live with Taeyeon praising you and calling you a good boy. You can live with her sweet, delectable vagina fucking itself on your cock. Fine, you admit you can live with Taeyeon basically confirming her ownership over your girlfriend Eunbi. But more than anything, you want to please her, to please your mommy. So it’s inevitable that you fuck her faster and rougher, summoning all the might you have in your body to make her scream.

Eunbi’s definitely been given a show, one that’s good enough for her to get off to. “Fuck, oppa,” whines Eunbi, ecstatic. The gleam in her eyes exhibits slight jealousy and more bliss. “It looks like it feels so good. I…” Her eyes shut, and her lips purse. “I’m so close.” Her fingers pump faster. Her hole struggles to catch up with the almost brutal pace of her digits.

“I’m close, too, fuck!” Taeyeon says. It’s almost like she’s angry when she throws her hips up and down, back and forth. She has more strength than your phys-ed teacher, that’s for sure. It’s like the gyrating of her body holds no self-control, and her mind is just on you and your cock, and nothing else. “Yes, yes, make me cum! Make mommy a slut for your cock!”

And you’d say you succeeded—Taeyeon’s voice reaches volumes a human being should be incapable of making. Her legs curl around your waist and behind the school chair to keep you as deep as possible as she cums on you. By then, you’ve sucked her breasts to redness and soreness. By then, Eunbi had reached her climax. You’ve managed to stave off your own. Some other time, you’d look back and wonder how you did it.

“Good boy,” Taeyeon gasps. She lifts your face up and kisses you on the mouth. “Such a good boy.”

“I want a turn, too, mommy,” says Eunbi. She’s pouting; there’s a whine tied around her tone. “Please? Please?”

Your professor removes herself from your lap. Her body has lost some of its former strength, but her actions still possess womanly confidence. She takes a slow walk over to Eunbi, kneels to her level, and lifts her chin upwards.

“Only if you promise to show what mommy taught you and clean off your oppa’s cock.”

“I will.” Eunbi nods furiously and repeatedly. She’s more than happy to do that just to have a turn of your cock. “I will, please, please let me!”

She crawls over between your legs. She forgoes the jerking part of Taeyeon’s hands-on lesson and goes for your cock with her lips immediately. Eunbi’s pink tongue glides on the coat of slick Taeyeon left on your length, delicately cleaning it up. The juices are replaced with her saliva. Carefully, inch by inch, she bobs her head on your dick, collecting the delicious taste of her teacher and the musky scent of your cock.

Her throat still isn’t used to your size. So, when she tries to take you in like she did earlier, she gags. You’re careful not to thrust in her mouth too much. You don’t want to hurt her, or block her from creating those adorable sounds of determination and arousal.

“Good girl,” coos Taeyeon, softly encouraging the girl to go on. “Just breathe through your nose, sweetheart. Take deep breaths. That’s my girl.”

When Eunbi comes back up for air, she’s breathless. Her shoulders ascend and fall with difficult pants. “Did I do good?” she asks expectantly.

“You did better than earlier,” Taeyeon says. “Did he taste good?”

“Yes, he did. But you were delicious, too, mommy.”

“You’ve always been a sweet girl, Eunbi,” Taeyeon remarks. She plants a kiss on Eunbi’s neck. “Just for that, you can have your oppa’s dick and taste mommy at the same time.”

Eunbi draws in a little excited breath. She practically drags you to the teacher’s desk that Taeyeon directs the two of you at, and lies down almost immediately when asked. Taeyeon pulls down your girlfriend’s schoolgirl skirt and volleyball shorts, which boasts a prominent cameltoe. But you and Taeyeon are able to see the real thing after just a few tugs of her clothes downwards.

There’s a genuine smile on Taeyeon’s face. “What a pretty little pussy.” She turns to you. “Tell me, is she tight?”

“See for yourself, professor,” you say without realizing it.

Even Eunbi is surprised. She lifts her back off the table. “Oppa— ah!”

Taeyeon’s finger finds shelter in Eunbi’s grippy pussy. Eunbi struggles and moans. You can see her little hole clasp onto the singular finger that intrudes its space, and how her enclosed walls part.

“Oh, ,” says Taeyeon with an evil grin on her goddess-like face. “She is.”

She moves her finger in and out, watching Eunbi’s blissful reactions to it.

“How can she take your cock if she’s this tight?”

“I’ll—ah!” Eunbi winces. Her legs close together, but that doesn’t stop the greedy Taeyeon. “I’ll do my best, mommy, I promise! I just want oppa’s cock!”

“Very well. Open your mouth and legs, Miss Kwon. Take those glasses off, too, and get ready. We’re not going to be gentle with you.”

Eunbi does as told. The honor student in her is still there behind the sex toy she’s become for you and Taeyeon. Her immediate obedience says it all. While Taeyeon throws one leg over the side of the table and her face, you part her legs. Eunbi’s legs never failed to amaze you. Her thighs, though muscular from running around the covered court all day, are full and jiggly enough to hold and use. Maybe one day you’ll give in and fuck her thighs. Cream them with semen milkier than her skin itself.

But her pussy will do just fine today, you think, if not better.

You and Taeyeon go to town in your respective parts at the same time. You fill Eunbi up with one, hard thrust, causing her to moan into Taeyeon’s pussy. Taeyeon sighs happily, too; Eunbi’s warm, wet tongue feels insanely good inside her pussy. Although inexpert and untried, just the steady thrusts of her tongue inside her can do.

“G-good girl, Eunbi,” she sighs. “Good girl.”

Eunbi’s whine of happiness turns into a groan after you form a steady rhythm. The teacher’s desk creaks back and forth along with your hips. You and Taeyeon squeeze and play with Eunbi’s huge tits, sometimes slapping them to draw a muffled, helpless reaction from her. But one look into each other’s eyes confirms this: you need to have each other, too.

Blinded by pleasure to be afraid, you lean forward and kiss Taeyeon. She’s hardly surprised, as if she expected that to happen. She earnestly kisses back. She’s sighing against your mouth. She tastes sweet; you understand now why Eunbi kissed her back like a greedy animal earlier. Your tongue navigates every sweet spot in her mouth, curling ‘round Taeyeon’s own tongue, as she fucks Eunbi’s mouth and you fuck her cunt.

Taeyeon bites your lower lip, licks it, then smirks. “Good boy,” she whispers sultrily. She kisses you again, ignoring the look of utter passiveness in your face caused by her tone and words. Gripping onto Eunbi’s bouncing boob in one hand and the other grasping the back of your head, she pulls you in for a deeper kiss. It’s something you’re glad to reciprocate; you don’t want to hear how pathetic you sound moaning because of Eunbi’s little pussy.

Eunbi has never eaten pussy before, but she knows what feels good. She tests it out by keeping a firm, hard pressure on Taeyeon’s clit. It elicits a positive response: a slightly louder moan from the other woman, and the rougher gyrate of her hips. She can’t see anything besides Taeyeon’s back and round ass. Her legs are numb from the consistent pounding, and she truly can’t feel anything besides breathlessness and pleasure. Her mind goes back to what Taeyeon taught, and finds that what makes her hornier is that Taeyeon is forgoing all that she taught—going against her own teachings, being a hypocrite—and fucking her mouth like she’s just a toy. It makes her so incredibly turned on.

“Fuck! Keep fucking me like that, Eunbi! Fuck yes, fill her up, fill our good girl up like that!”

Your thrusts get rougher, and Taeyeon feels Eunbi’s mouth give their all in eating her. The short, blunt flicks to her clitoris become full-on sucklings alternated with tongue-fucking. Unable to handle it, she lets out a guttural cry, slapping one of Eunbi’s breasts roughly, then wrapping her hands around her pretty neck.

“Come on, toy.” She slams her ass down on Eunbi’s face angrily. Her hands squeeze tighter around the girl’s throat. “Do what you’re good at. Eat my fucking cunt, make me cum.”

Eunbi begins to cry. Her squeal vibrates on Taeyeon’s pussy as her tongue plays with and fucks Taeyeon’s pussy. It’s so messed up, but Eunbi being used impulsively makes you fuck her harder. Her pussy traps your coming-and-leaving shaft as a steady spray of clear squirt goes your way. Eunbi’s screaming, trying to vent her pleasure by eating Taeyeon out more, which causes another orgasm from the teacher. The two pairs of bouncing mounds tempt you, and you have to pull out to blow a heavy load on Eunbi’s breasts.

All three of you are moaning and sighing together, creating an unholy choir of sin that the school choir would find repugnant. Eunbi shivers as Taeyeon lifts herself off her used mouth. Your legs feel like sticks against a heavy wind. You have to grab on the desk for support.

“Did she just squirt?”

Look down at your wet polo shirt and shrug, finding humor at the obvious question and its obvious answer. “I guess so,” you reply.

Taeyeon’s eyes glint with menace. “Make her do it again,” she says.

“What?” you ask, just to make sure you’re hearing her correctly. Now all the humor is gone. She can’t be serious. You don’t know how you’ll make it work. You’re barely coming down from your high, and Eunbi is at the brink of passing out. You can’t give her another orgasm; the two of you are way too spent.

Taeyeon, however, can go for days.

“I said,” Taeyeon grabs Eunbi by the hair and pulls her up, “make her squirt again.”

Eunbi’s tired frame relies on Taeyeon’s to maintain her position of sitting, but she doesn’t need a hand in her hair again to shake her head. She whines in protest when Taeyeon’s fingers play with her pussy again.

“Mommy, no! I’m too sensitive! You can’t!”

“Fuck her pretty cunt, toy,” Taeyeon whispers in your ear. Her finger, which slides back and forth on Eunbi’s clit, grows stronger and faster. “Teach her to take a good cock. Don’t mind her whimpering. She wants it.”

You’re automatically inclined to follow your teacher’s instructions. So, when you slide into Eunbi’s snug pussy again, she screams in pleasure. She grabs for anything—your hand, a chair—but Taeyeon pins her hands behind her back. They’re messily making out again. Eunbi lets out her moans in the form of greedy, wanton liplocks. Meanwhile, you cry out feral groans watching the two beautiful women kissing.

Eunbi’s wrists have fought themselves out from Taeyeon’s hand and have led themselves towards the valleys of her teacher’s tits. You're pretty sure she’s done so to finger her, which is proven when Taeyeon gasps and pins her down even more roughly to the table. They touch each other just the way they like it: roughly and unforgivingly.

Whenever Taeyeon twists Eunbi's nipples, your girlfriend’s cunt clamps protectively around your cock. It’s delicious—it’s difficult to drag it out when all the pleasure from your hands and Taeyeon’s makes her so tight and wet. Taeyeon’s harsh flicks send wet sloppy fluid leaking on the desk. Eunbi’s inexperienced yet somehow skilled fingers drive Taeyeon to hiss and bite down on Eunbi's full lower lip.

“Oppa, mommy’s too good,” Eunbi mumbles weakly. Her legs shake. “And mommy, oppa’s cock is so big. It fills me so well.”

“I know, baby. You’re taking him like a good girl.”

Giving Eunbi one last kiss, Taeyeon scoots over to you. She’s unimpressed; her arms cross, one over the other, below her killer breasts. “How are you going to make her squirt if you can’t fuck her fast?” she asks.

“I’m sorry, professor.”

“And from the boyfriend of a top student, too. You’d think she at least taught you something. Pull out. Now. Somebody needs to teach your girl a lesson.”

You’re actually glad to be able to stop. Eunbi moans at your hard cock leaving her hole, but she screams again—this time because of Taeyeon spanking her cunt.

“Mommy! Mommy, no—mommy!”

“Dumb little girl,” snarls Taeyeon. Her hand makes several rough landings on Eunbi's cunt over and over with little time to recover. You're horrified. “Aren’t you a valedictorian, Kwon Eunbi? You should know better and teach this no-good delinquent to fuck you properly. Do you even remember your classes?”

“Mommy!” Eunbi sobs. Her hips flinch and retract from Taeyeon's hand. “Hurts!”

The girl yelps and whines, but you can see her biting her lip as she watches the teacher punish her. It took your teacher risking her job and literally slapping your girlfriend's vagina for you to realize this: your girlfriend is a freak.

“You like how it makes you cry, don’t you?” asks Taeyeon. She slaps the wet folds until the skin around it is red. “Fucking pain slut.”

“Hurts, hurts, hurts! G-gonna cum again, mommy, please stop, you’re going to make me cum, haaah!”

Eunbi squirms and wails, jutting her legs out while she cums again. In the end, Taeyeon gets what she wanted: a spray of fluids from Eunbi’s pussy. She rubs her nub to prompt more of her squirting. The younger girl’s lower body jerks and moves away, but Taeyeon’s hand always finds her clit again.

“It took spanking to get you to squirt?” the teacher asks, slightly amused.

Eunbi can do nothing but sob and nod. What else is she supposed to do? She looks more tired now than she was post-game. Her naked, beautiful body’s wet and used beyond limit. “Mommy… I’m tired,” she says. “Please.”

“Take your time, angel.” Taeyeon slides Eunbi’s glasses back on her face. Behind the lens, her eyelids barely make it past her brown irises. “You were such a good girl for mommy today.”

Eunbi nods appreciatively. She nuzzles into Taeyeon’s hand. Her whole body feels like it’s going to break anytime soon.

Taeyeon turns to you with a dangerous look in her eyes. That’s how you know she’s not done, at least with you. She still hasn’t had her load, and she’s not leaving without it.

“Now let’s see,” she says, slowly, walking over to you with her shapely hips swaying, “if your little boyfriend can be a good boy.”

You gulp. You’re in for a long ride.

“You sure you can handle me, professor?” you ask. You’re being a hotshot again, you know that, but it’s the only way you know how to deal with nervousness.

You’re gliding her hand across her thighs, taking pleasure in this stalling that benefits you in more ways than one. In doing this, you get to touch Taeyeon’s slim, sensitive thighs, and toy with her prepared pussy.

Taeyeon’s shivering breath is the only indication of her pleasure. Her face remains stoic, almost offending, as she sits on the desk. Her clothes are anywhere but on her body. It’s not like you mind.

“I’d ask you that same question,” she says. She knows how to keep her guard up enough to make you red with humiliation. “But it seems like I know the answer already.”

Pinch her pink nipples. You’re copying Taeyeon’s way of letting her feelings manifest in her little actions and ways, hence the harsh squeeze of your fingers on the nubs. Eunbi watches on with anticipation, searching for the right scene to repeat in her mind to reach her climax. She’s whimpering quietly.

Taeyeon’s slandering you, you know it. It just so happens she does so incredibly sexily. Finding her deserving of a good fucking, line up your cock with her entrance and rub yourself on her lips. Your tip rubs her clit repeatedly.

“Which is?” you ask innocently.

Taeyeon’s breaths are short. “You’re too scared to fuck me,” she says, with no less confidence. In a way, she’s correct, but not for long. “Mmm, you’re scared of what would happen if you get to it and breed me. Your life would be over, you know that, and you’d ruin your girlfriend’s potential to excel.”

Sarcastically: “Am I?”

“Ohh, oh, yes, you are.” It’s a nice save from her. “And that’s not all there is to it, isn’t it? You’re scared of me. What’s promising I won’t tell anyone of what we did? That’s right: nothing, and that’s what scares you. It scares your delinquent ass more than you’d like.”

The table creaks backwards. Taeyeon moans.

You steadily thrust in her, reminding yourself not to be gentle as you would to Eunbi in lighter situations. No, your slut of a teacher deserves to be pounded. If she had to resort to her students to get a good fuck, she might as well get it.

“Am I still scared, professor?” you ask.

Taeyeon’s pussy is as good as the first time you entered her. But now it’s obvious she’s so much more turned on; her pussy grips your cock in any way but gently. Her tits start to bounce again.

“M-maybe,” she weakly gasps out. “With how small your dick is, I’d see why you are.”

Although her lie is clear, it sends a blow to your ego. You force her folds to welcome and swallow more frequent thrusts. Taeyeon is whining; or is that Eunbi you’re hearing?

Take a look at Eunbi and see that her legs, just like her teacher’s, are wide open. She’s rubbing herself while squeezing one boob in her hand. Her moans mix in with Taeyeon’s as she watches the two of you go at it. Needless to day, she’s enjoying the view.

Minutes later, you’ve got Taeyeon sprawled out even more on the table (if that were possible), with a tired Eunbi still kneeling at her side, as you fuck your teacher’s cunt to the point of oblivion. Your cock still drips with semen and precum from the previous sessions, but your desire to keep fucking Taeyeon’s tight, perfect pussy keeps you going. It’s the defiance, the sheer fucking will to go on that prevents you from passing out.

“I think it’s your thing, professor," you whisper in her ear, shedding the honorifics for just this time. “Fucking a pretty little high school student because you know she's curious, and being railed to shit by some delinquent. This cock—”

—Taeyeon gasps when you sharply thrust inside her—

“—and this pretty face—”

—Grasp Eunbi’s face in between careless, rough fingers; she whines pitifully—

“That’s what gets you off, right?” you ask. “Because you know it’s messed up: how good it feels being ruined by some boy who should be a nightmare but is instead the guy who can give you a good dicking-down. It just isn’t right, is it, Kim Taeyeon?”

“Oh, oh my god,” Taeyeon rasps. Her eyes are wide. You've just stripped her feelings out for her, one by one, while you rail away at her mercilessly. Her face is red; she's humiliated, nonetheless, but she's turned on. So fucking turned on.

“So cum for me, mommy.” Speed up your thrusts, grab her bouncing tits before dragging your hand up to her throat. There, you squeeze. “Cum like you want me.”

And cum she does. Taeyeon lets out a feral scream, squirming and struggling on the table. Eunbi, who was touching herself to you and Taeyeon fucking, crawls over and seals her lips around Taeyeon's clit, catching the squirt she expels. Taeyeon propels herself forward, causing your cock to bury itself deeper inside her and Eunbi's mouth to take more and more of her pussy.

“Yes, yes, yes, good boy! Fuck me, fuck me like I’m a whore!” Taeyeon cries. Her beautiful face is stretched and scrunched into an expression of pleasure. Her hips never stop going crazy at the doubled pleasure. “Keep sucking my clit like that, Eunbi-ya; yes, that’s a good girl, yes yes yes please—!”

Eunbi squeezes Taeyeon’s breasts and thighs while you release inside her. It goes against what she taught in multiple classes: safe sex, use of condoms, all that, but you want to continue feeling the beautiful wet walls close in on your cock, like it doesn’t want you to leave her hole.

And if you could, you won’t. But the human body has limits, and it can’t take non-stop sex unless your stamina’s like one of the school athletes. So, you can do nothing but welcome the darkness that covers your line of vision.

In the absence of light, darkness prevails.

The classroom is a mess. White fluid that’s definitely not Elmer’s glue coats the wooden teacher’s desk. You think you’ve broken one of the table’s legs. The floor needs to be mopped with how much of Eunbi’s squirt has sprayed on its tiles.

But you don’t worry about that. Not now, when Taeyeon lovingly takes care of your tired post-sex bodies. She’s dressed now, and although her messy hair and pants indicate a recent frisky session, you don’t suppose anyone would think that.

Through it all, you’re still students Taeyeon cares for.

“My good girl, and my good boy,” she says softly. She might be harsh, but her love is real. She buttons Eunbi’s uniform, kisses her, then kisses your forehead. She’s still trying to find her lost breath, but she’s smiling. She’s smiling despite the messed up morality of the situation as a whole, despite your body looking ragged after multiple climaxes and Eunbi’s body and breasts being marked with her own slaps. If she were asked, she’d do it all again.

“You’ll still be around to please mommy later, won’t you?”

Just like that, she’s put a mark on the two of you. You’re hers and no one else’s from this day forward, and you can’t decide what to feel about it. You had no idea how to react during this whole sex frenzy, but you think that vulnerable, helpless feeling is exactly what makes you smile. The feeling of having someone dominate you, claim you, own you, especially from someone who shouldn’t be.

God, you’re a mess. You’re fucked up. Taeyeon is fucked up. And, in her own little way, Eunbi herself is fucked up, too, but that’s exactly why you have each other.

Someday you’ll look back at all this. You’ll go over everything—meeting Eunbi, being her boyfriend, the whole fiasco with Taeyeon, all of it—and perhaps you'll laugh a little too. All of it is absurd, and is that of a plot straight out of a pornography video. To think it might happen to you, a guy who’s barely above average, would be the main cause of your reminiscent laughter.

They say high school days are wild. You find that to be true; you just bred your sex ed professor, called her mommy and made out with her while she rode your girlfriend’s face. To add to that, your first intimate encounter with Eunbi was raunchy, wild sex. And you sit in the classroom, with her leaning against your shoulder, attending another class as if nothing happened. Halfway through a biology quiz, Taeyeon enters. You don’t know if your eyes were just teasing you, but she winks at you as she leaves. It’s a wink that says don’t get too carried away, toy; we’re not done yet.

#kpop smut #girls generation smut #snsd smut #kim taeyeon smut #taeyeon smut #izone smut #kwon eunbi smut #eunbi smut #x reader #male reader #reader insert #pov smut #request

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kit-foley · 1 year

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Nancy Drew Games are 50% off on Steam right now so here are some shitty descriptions of the games for newbies or partners (not in order, also spoilers)

Secrets can kill: dickface high schooler was pushed down a flight of stairs, find out who did it

The Silent Spy: Nancy has mommy issues and cosplays as a spy in Scotland

Sea of Darkness: all of the characters have trauma around a ship. featuring the only canonically queer character.

Deadly Device: tech bro gets electrocuted, who did it oh noooo. Feat: women in stem

Midnight in Salem: Glitch-wise, this is the fandom-equivalent of the first release of FNAF Security Breach but doesn’t nearly slay as hard and they didn’t patch any of the bugs. Haven’t played it but the fandom is 50/50 on it, maybe 80/20 against

Shattered Medallion: off brand amazing race goes wrong, feat. A recurring character who you’re supposed to know

Alibi in Ashes: Nancy didn’t commit arson (this time) so who the fuck did? See also, “I can commit major theft and prod you about your dead mom, but I draw the line at arson.”

The Captive Curse: monster and intergenerational trauma, beautifully told story. Plus lederhosen.

Shadow at the Waters Edge: ghosts and intergenerational trauma, beautifully told story. Plus kawaii

Ghost of Thornton hall; ghosts and intergenerational trauma, beautifully told story. Plus southern people.

The Final Scene: nancys friend who we’ve never met gets kidnapped. Plus magic tricks/Houdini. Plus old man.

The Haunted Carousel: Dead mom plus the most annoying daughter you’ll ever encounter and her emotional support robot. Also you’re supposed to fix a theme park

Danger by Design: Parisian fashion designer with anger issues and also might deny that nazis happened during wwii

Curse of blackmoor manor: British girl says oh no my stepmom is turning into a werewolf

Warnings at Waverly Academy; the trailer for this one said something like “I hang out with teenage girls in this one, it could be my scariest case yet”, basically be prepared to do other students homework. Also immaculate dark academia/fall vibes tho

Phantom of Venice: white boy of the month shows you his seven hour tesserae slideshow and you single-handedly bring down a crime ring while wearing stupid outfits

Trail of the Twister: someone is sabotaging a storm chasing team but Nancy cares more about asking the local general store owner about his dead wife

Secret of the Old Clock: It’s magically 1930 again, this game feels so far off brand from pretty much all of the other ones imo but the music goes HARD and there’s def some homoerotic tensions between a dead old man and his live-in psychic

Legend of the Crystal Skull: make a curio shop owner sneeze, collect glass eyeballs, watch a Gerard Way look-alike cry, and maybe get buried alive

Haunting of Castle Malloy: banshees and letterpress and a pub that conveniently only serves juice. Terrible Irish accents. Try to find a missing groom for a wedding but also enjoy a walking sim that walked so Stardew Valley could run

Creature of Kapu Cave: get stuck in a tourist trap resort by a guy who calls himself Big Island Mike, then get stuck in a forest with an entomologist who makes you do her work for her, then get stuck in a research facility with an angry white guy who makes you do his work and then falls asleep. Music slaps but no idea what the plot of the game is supposed to be. Also do a “freaky friday” style switch with the Hardy Boys every time you call them on your cell phone.

Last train to Blue Moon canyon: picture Paris Hilton inviting you on a train and then she goes missing. Also on the train with you: the worst police detective, Zak Bagans impersonator, and Colleen Hoover-vibes.

White Wolf of Icicle Creek: “I fired. And I missed. I missed again. I got sad. I had a popsicle.”

#nancy drew #her interactive #nancy drew games #clue crew

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apolloskazoo · 1 year

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ELLIE & JOEL HEADCANONS PART 2

Here’s the part 2 you people (me) have been asking for. Once again 1k words because I cannot control myself

• When Ellie is looking a little down or bored and Joel isn’t right beside her, he’ll make a silly little face at her from across the room to get her to laugh a little. She always makes one back to get him to laugh, too. They can make each other laugh from literally across the room with one single look.

• Joel keeps everything Ellie makes. Drawings, school assignments, anything and everything he can get his hands on. He has stacks of papers and other things Ellie has made just lying in his drawer or pinned up on the fridge. Ellie always talks about how lame it is, and how they’re not even good, and blah blah blah, but Joel just snatches that paper right out of her hands and pins it up on the wall because he LOVES HIS DAUGHTER.

• One time Ellie got a cut, and while Joel was patching it up he jokingly said, “want me to kiss it better?” Ellie doesn’t understand what that even means and Joel has to explain. Now whenever she gets a cut she forces him to kiss it better because 1) it’s funny 2) to make fun of him when he said it the first time and 3) maybe she wants a Joel kiss, is that so much to ask for?

• In Jackson, Ellie learns that hardwood floors and socks can create a Very Fun Activity (sliding around a room in bare socks) and Joel has a near death heart attack every time she does it because he’s convinced she’s going to slide into a wall one day (she does).

• Joel 100% snores SO LOUDLY like the dad he is and Ellie complains about it non-stop, but in reality she can’t fall asleep without the sound of his annoying dad snores, whether they’re right in her ears or coming distantly from down the hall. It helps her know that he’s alive and okay and that he’s with her, and also it’s become like white noise since it was all she could hear during the nights they were traveling (she would tease him endlessly about raiders finding them by the sound of his snoring alone. He did not find it as funny as she did).

• Joel is known as the “pun guy” by the other adults at Jackson, and whenever there’s a new resident they all tell them that if they have any puns, give them to Joel. The entire reason the name started up was because whenever Ellie was having a bad day, telling her a pun she hadn’t heard before would cheer her up, but he didn’t know enough of them—so, obviously, he went around telling everyone that if they knew any puns, give them to him. He has people approaching him and telling him puns weekly, and he suffers through it just to see the look on Ellie’s face when she’s sad and he tells her them to get her to smile.

• Ellie eats things off of the floor. Don’t get me wrong, she’s NOT running around grabbing week old pieces of food off of the dirty ground, but she thoroughly believes in the five second rule and not wasting food (because of FEDRA school and not eating on the road and such, but I won’t get into that). So if she drops some food on the ground, she’ll quickly snatch it up and keep eating it, because of old habits. The first time Joel sees her accidentally tip her plate onto the floor, snatch it up in record speed, and keep eating it? He’s horrified. Speechless. Beyond shocked. Ellie Williams? Who? You mean the kid who just ate the same food that landed on the floor five seconds ago like some sort of deranged animal? Yeah, he didn’t know her, she was just some random kid. What do you mean, you saw him walking in with her when they first arrived? He’s never spoken to her a day in his life before, because if he had, he certainly would’ve taught her not to eat off the damn ground. He 100% pulls her aside, dumps the food into the trash, and lectures her on not trying to beat the world record of “person who caught the most sicknesses in under a week.” Ellie doesn’t see the big deal (“at least I’m not wasting food, Joel. And it’s hardly even dirty anyway, it was on the ground for, like, a second”) but after he starts listing off all of the diseases she could get she agrees to stop, if only to get him to stop talking.

• Joel teaches Ellie how to build and fix things, and essentially teaches her all of the stuff he learned as a contractor and mentors her. He loves teaching it to her because it’s his work and he loves to share it with her, and Ellie loves to learn it, too. When he’s working on houses or repairs in Jackson, she tags along and helps, and she likes feeling like her and Joel share a skill together, plus she thinks building is pretty rad. Also, if she and Joel share work, they get to see each other more often, which is a bonus. They’re building buds. They have matching construction hats.

• They take walks together, especially during the time when the sun is setting and it’s a bit cooler on hot days. Sometimes they just walk and talk, and other times Ellie brings her sketchbook and Joel brings something to carve and they walk to a river or back to the porch or somewhere peaceful, and they just sit down and do their thing. Joel works on what he’s working on, Ellie draws what’s around her or what’s on her mind. They just exist peacefully beside each other, silently bonding and doing their separate tasks beside one another.

• Ellie pets every animal she sees. A dog is passing by? Joel, stop walking, she needs to pet him NOW!!!!! Is there a cat in the window? She will spend thirty minutes trying to get the cat to trust her enough that it will let it pet her, and an hour later it’s in her lap purring and whatever she was trying to get to has already closed up, and Joel is running to find her in a panic. She 100% brings a rat home one day and asks Joel if they can keep it (she named it Chef Boyardee Ratvioli. She does not, unfortunately, get to keep it).

• Alternatively, Joel is such a big lame dad that he has to interact with every baby he sees. A baby is crying? Here, let Joel hold it, he’ll calm it down. Is that baby staring at him as he walks by? He’s waving and when the baby waves back he cannot control his smile. Yes, of course he’ll watch someone’s infant son for a second while they go to the bathroom despite not knowing either of them. Yes, he cries when he holds Tommy’s baby for the first time and yes, Ellie does indeed make fun of him for it (she cried, too, though, don’t listen to her lies).

• Ellie has a hard time sleeping at night while they’re traveling, so instead of just lying down and struggling to sleep, she talks to Joel every. Night. About everything. She reads him stupid puns. She tells him dinosaur and space facts. She tells him funny made-up stories. She chats about literally everything and anything, and Joel is baffled on how much she can still talk after a whole day of walking. He complains non-stop on how he wants to sleep and she needs to shut up, but eventually he gets used to it and he even, gasp, looks forward to hearing her non-stop nighttime chattering, which usually ends in Ellie talking herself to sleep halfway through a sentence.

Part 3 only if y’all like these and I get inspired again

#tlou #the last of us #ellie williams #joel miller #the last of us hbo #ellie and joel #joel and ellie #hbo the last of us #headcanons #the last of us headcanons #btw there may or may not #be a chef boyardee ratvioli fic #appearing out in the world someday #seems like it would be fun to write #and that pun? killer. joel will drop dead when he hears it #so yeah if the unseen forces allow it there will be a ratvioli!!!!!

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alavestineneas · 1 year

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Alive

pairing: Johanna Mason x fem!reader

summary: Maybe, just maybe, being alive has its perks.

warnings: mentions of ptsd, trauma, panic attacks

District 7 slowly was coming alive—people returned to their work, children started roaming the streets again, and even the forest gradually became green. It seemed like the only one to stay grieving was Johanna. She never thought she was going to get better; the wounds were deeply engraved in her mind. But time passed, and they turned into annoying scratches—almost healed but still bleeding.

She had a new house now—the one the government gave her. Its bricked walls weren't overly hospitable, but Johanna had seen far worse than that. The house wasn't big, but it was close to the market and, more importantly, the hospital, so Johanna was fine with it. Here, her cherished isolation was disrupted by only one human being.

Mac was the loudest child Johanna had ever met. The boy, who was not older than ten, lived two houses away. On a mostly calm street, he raised hell every day with his old red bike. Sure, the little devil helped the old Ms. Lane get the milk from the market or get the letter to the post office quickly, but something about his loud laughter in the evening annoyed Johanna to no end.

Not Y/N, though. Johanna wondered how such vastly different people could live under the same roof. Ms. Lane called her ''Lovely Y/N'' and Johanna had to agree with the old lady for once. Y/N worked as a nurse; Johanna often saw her in the white halls of the hospital. She was just what Johanna loved about her District the most: someone with a big heart and working hands.

This type of people sang old songs in pubs after a day in the sawmill or chatted with their neighbours over a cup of tea on Sunday afternoons. The people Johanna remembered from her childhood, the people her parents and brothers once were. Y/N was just the type—she smiled more often than she frowned and laughed more than she argued.

It seemed distant to Johanna, like a tune she'd heard before but couldn't recall the words of. She doesn't belong among those people anymore. Not after all she went through. And every time Y/N appeared on the porch of Johanna's house with a warm smile, Johanna was reminded of that.

"Good evening, Miss Mason."

Y/N stands in front of her once again. She came right after work, a worn bag over her shoulder, a deep blue coat a size larger, hurriedly buttoned up. The little devil is also here; now, the boy shyly hides behind the woman, hiding his gaze.

''My name is Johanna.'' she clears. Johanna hates that she can't hold a civil conversation for once; her words definitely didn't sound polite.

''Yes, sorry. Johanna, I am so sorry about your flowerpot. Mac?"

''I'm sorry, Miss Johanna. It won't happen again.'' the boy mumbles, his head bowed in deep shame.

Oh, yes. This dumbass broke a flowerpot with his annoying ball this afternoon. To be fair, Johanna couldn't care less about that thing; it was empty anyway. Besides, she had a stupid habit of breaking everything in her house when angry, so sooner or later, the flowerpot would meet its fate.

''Don't worry about it,'' she mumbles, almost embarrassed to see Y/N's warm smile appear on her tired face once again.

''I thought we should buy you a new one, but I didn't know which one to choose. How about we go to the market on Sunday together, and I'll buy the one you want?''

Johanna freezes. The idea of going to the market on Sunday terrifies her. Then, most of the District gathers there. But if she doesn't agree, Y/N will think she hates her. Johanna can't allow it—the nurse is the only thing close to a friend that she has. Mason can't help but think how damn stupid it is not to be able to buy herself a pot. So, the choice is obvious.

''Sounds good!'' Johanna squeezes out. Her voice is harsh, but Y/N still nods.

''Great! At the corner at ten then.''

Y/N is already there when Johanna comes, and Mason feels at ease, distracted from anxious thoughts by a pleasant conversation. That is until they enter the square. It is noisy and too fast for her to keep up, and Johanna almost thinks of running away, but Y/N places a hand on her back.

''First, let's look at Greg's. They changed the aisle; it is closer to vegetables now.''

Johanna might feel like throwing up, but she still got her stupid pot and made Y/N laugh a couple of times, so, in her book, it is a win. Y/N seems to think so too. She takes two pieces of candy out of the bag.

''Would you like some? I stole it from Mac.''

''Do I look like a kid to you?'' Johanna resents.

She still takes it, of course. It's chocolate, for God's sake.

It is Friday; Y/N's shift ends fifteen minutes after Johanna's appointment with the doctor, so they walk home together. Y/N says she doesn't like walking alone, and Johanna almost believes her; after each session with a doctor, Mason leaves the room with bloodshot eyes. Of course, Y/N notices them too.

Johanna waits for her near a small shop on the corner, as she usually does. What is unusual are a few wet patches on the pavement. Johanna feels her heart drop. Its racing beat rings loud in her ears. Suddenly, the air doesn't want to enter her lungs anymore; Johanna grasps it again and again, feeling her knees weaken. Water drops had already found her head and shoulders, each one burning her skin.

That's how she is going to die, she thinks. The water slowly covers small holes in the road; Johanna's hands begin to tremble, chills covering them. She already can't feel her legs. Water, then electricity. Snow fucking got her. She can't escape him.

A pair of colorful shoes blocks the view of the road. Then, concerned eyes appeared in front of Johanna's. It's Y/N, Mason thinks; her figure is a slight blur. She says something, but it is quite hard to understand—the water is pouring down her face.

Johanna shakes her head. "I don't," she stutters, "I can't."

She loses Y/N's face again but feels her presence near. The woman places something cold in Johanna's hands, her voice ringing loudly in Mason's head.

"Breathe.''

And she does. In and out, in and out, until her vision isn't so clouded anymore and she can finally feel her sore legs. The rain doesn't stop, but it doesn't hit her anymore. Y/N is sitting beside her, holding an umbrella.

''Can you walk?'' she asks, her hair and clothes soaked.

Johanna only nods, feeling the usual sleepiness returning.

''Let's get you out of here then.''

Johanna sits on the old chair in the smallest kitchen she has ever seen. They are at Y/N's house. She is in a horrendous dress that Y/N made her change into; she can't remember the last time she wore one.

The owner of the house, if you could call it that, was nowhere to be found. Y/N claimed to go searching for the blanket, but it was highly suspicious—the house was too small for anything to get lost. Johanna wonders if she is calling the doctors now, or hiding in the bathroom with a knife in her trembling hands—the thought brings a smile to her face.

Still, she is not alone in the room—a pair of curious eyes watch her very carefully.

''Are you going to hide there all day?" she asks, annoyed.

The little devil leaves his not-so-well-thought-out hiding spot with a loud sigh. ''Y/N told me to leave you alone,'' he reveals. ''But you are at my house, so...''

The boy looks very confident in himself. He grabs a pear from the nearest bowl and slides onto the chair next to her. ''Why are you here?''

Johanna eyes him up and down. ''Your mom dragged me here, and I didn't have the heart to argue with such a beauty'', she shrugs.

''Mum?'' he exclaims, making a disgusted face. ''Ew! Y/N is my sister, you moron!''

''MAC!'' Y/N roars, returning to the room with a spare blanket. ''What did I say just two minutes ago?''

The boy rolls his eyes. ''Don't bother the guest.''

''And?'' Y/N looks at him sternly.

"And don't you fucking swear." Mac grins, stealing one more pear from the bowl before dodging the rag thrown at him.

Johanna snorts. "A lovely kid you have here."

Y/N sighs. ''He's a pain in the ass sometimes. But I can't really blame him. ''

Mason watches the woman place a kettle on the stove. She changed her wet clothes, but her hair is still damp. Y/N looks relaxed like this, even with a near maniac in her kitchen.

''Why are you raising him?'' Johanna looks at her curiously.

''Well, my parents were executed for supporting the rebellion. So there was not much of a choice.''

''I'm sorry.'' Johanna frowns.

She never thought about how much the revolution affected the people around her. Sure, the District was burned and bombed, but how many people lost their families as Y/N did? Like she did years ago?

''I like to think they were happy to die fighting.'' Y/N watches the droplet of water hit the window. ''You can stay for the night. I am leaving early, but Mac will be home.''

Johanna wants to argue, but frankly, Y/N is right. She can't even bring herself to look at the rain, let alone set foot outside.

''Thank you.''

Y/N nods. She doesn't talk anymore, deep in her thoughts. Johanna wonders what she has also missed.

''I had brothers too, you know. Two. Snow killed them after I won.'' Johanna bites her cheek, feeling her eyes water.

She had never told anyone before. None of the survivors

know where her family is, except for the doctor, but it wasn't really her choice to tell him.

''I miss them.''

''I do too.'' Y/N's eyes mirror hers - something in them makes Johanna's heart squeeze. ''Sometimes I think it should've been me. Mac would've been much happier without a sister than without parents.''

''Don't say that.'' Johanna scowls. ''You help a lot of people.''

Y/N chuckles. ''I don't do much. I am not a doctor.''

It's not what she meant, Johanna thinks but keeps her mouth shut. What did she mean by that anyway?

Johanna cleans for the first time in forever. It's refreshing, although she will never admit it. The weather is pleasant enough to keep the windows open, and Johanna thinks the sky is finally starting to clear. That's when she hears loud bangs on the door. There is only one person who knocks this loudly.

''What do you want, Mac?'' she asks, opening the door only to find a boy completely out of breath.

''Miss Mason, Y/N wondered if you could help us chop the wood?''

Johanna frowns. ''Is this why you were running here?''

''Yes.'' the boy nods.

Something doesn't add up, but Johanna has absolutely no wish to dig deeper; it's easier to say when Mac doesn't have something going on.

''Well, let me grab my axe.''

Johanna doesn't understand why the little devil keeps rushing her. Their house seems fine, with no fire or explosion in sight. When they approach, however, Johanna hears a familiar voice speak louder than usual.

''Mister Pitforest, I'm afraid I can't. I am working at that hour.''

''Oh, Y/N. Are you going to deny me the pleasure of your company? You know, my darling, it gets lonely these days without someone by my side.''

''I am very sorry to hear that, but I have to put food on the table.''

''Sweetheart, you don't have to worry about that. I will take good care of you and your brother—that's what old friends are for, right? So, what do you say?''

Johanna watches Mac's hands turn into fists when the man touches Y/N's shoulder. He is at least twice her age, if not older, and she is clearly uneasy.

''I believe she said no.''

Y/N turns to her, surprised. Johanna knows she probably looks like a mad woman with an axe in her hand and Mac hiding behind her. The axe feels natural in her grip - she still remembers how to use it properly.

''Y/N, don't tell me you know '', he motions toward Johanna, "her.''

''I do. Is there a problem?'' Y/N's face is stone cold, and Johanna can't help but think it was much more intimidating than a weapon in her hands.

''A problem? Y/N, she is a child killer! What would your poor father say to that?''

''And what would my father say to his friend trying to sleep with his daughter?"

The man's face grows red. ''I was trying to help you, ungrateful bitch.''

''One more word,'' Johanna warns.

The man throws a glance at her axe before quickly getting into the car. He is rich, Johanna thinks—not a lot of people can afford cars here. She watches the auto disappear in the next turn before turning to Y/N.

''You should've told me he was bothering you sooner.''

''He was a family friend.'' She shrugs. ''And a dick, apparently.''

Johanna chuckles. ''So, where's the wood?''

Y/N looks at her, confused. ''In the forest, I assume?''

''Mac told me you need help cutting it.''

Y/N laughs. ''That little shit.''

Johanna can't help but notice how pretty she looks like that.

''You don't look bad yourself, with an axe and everything. It suits you.''

Mason feels her legs take a step closer to Y/N, their eyes meeting.

''Can I?'' she asks, but Y/N is quicker; she presses her lips to hers.

It's calm. For the first time in years, Johanna feels calm. They pull away after a few moments, Y/N's arms still intertwined with hers—the one without an axe, of course.

''I haven't been hugged in years,'' Johanna admits.

''Well, that should feel nice then.''

They stay like this, just holding each other - as much as Johanna doesn't want to admit it, it does feel nice.

''Are you finished eating each other's faces?'' Mac asks, his eyes purposefully shut.

Johanna feels Y/N giggle in her chest. ''Tell him he has five seconds to run as far as he can.''

She smiles too, watching the boy vanish into the house. Maybe, just maybe, being alive has its perks.

#johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x you #johanna mason x y/n #thg #hunger games #wlw #imagine #ilovejohannasomuchandiwanthertobehappyforonce

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