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iwaasfairy · 2 years

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┌─ “ ! „ ROGUE

tw. incest, spit, dom/sub stuff, reader is a textbook brat, size kink, i think i mention tummy bulge once, manhandling, jealousy, virginity, aemond is mean but pussy wipped, tiny lil bit of breeding and wifing up wordcount. 7.2k

a/n. local anime blog goes rogue and writes hotd smut. yes i know okay just look away if you only like anime boys, we will get back to out usually scheduled program soon i swear i sweaarrrrrr dont judge me i have such a fat crush, i sWear i am only doing it to stay sane iT iS MY CALLING ♡

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

The heavy cover of smoke and dusty sage circles up in slow rounds towards the ceiling, like a flock of vultures. Candles burn low in the heavy air of the room, and the long curtains allow just enough fresh air into the room for the scent not to be stifling. Aemond assesses the whole of his room for a few breaths as the chambermaid softly slips out without another word, and pulls the heavy door to a clicked close behind her. Like a fleeing animal, he muses, unclasping and placing his sword upon his desk. The girl has always fled his company as fast as a mouse in a trap. Not like he’s ever done her wrong. Not like how he knows his older brother continues to do.

A small puff of annoyance comes out of his mouth as he starts to peel back some of the layers of his daywear, and drops them over the back of the chair.

Oh well, at least he’s alone.

His room is cast in a soft, golden glow that melts every want for pretense into the floor. Slowly dripping off him like wax, it seems to reveal a bit more of himself with each heavy drop. He only really notices how tired he is of spending time at court when the time comes to abandon it for the evening. Exhausting, ‘s what it is. The mastering of every trade is the lesser of the evils, but the constant ass-sucking, the looks, the reading of the room— he has no want for it. The Queen assures this is the life of a prince. He protests that it’s a simple lie to play at royalty. And no one gets to mark their own vision correct. No one gets to grab the upper hand. Because that’s the life of a prince.

Aemond finishes undressing most of the heavy, leather garb for a looser fit. Then moves to sit into the chair beside his bed, as always, and lets his eye fall to the sets of books on the desk. Few of them are untouched. For an acquiring of knowledge that is purely showy at best, because he is only a second son. A downright shame. He rolls the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth for a few moments, and instead pours the can of wine, holding onto the cup loosely, with slow sips. If only to have something to do.

The humming of the choir down in the bell tower reaches all the way up to his room, and gives the night an awfully dreary feeling, reminding of winter, of death, of the sniveling of people in the sept and those praying in the darkness. Not that he minds, or cares much— but he knows the sound well. Knows how it is the sign for Aegon to double the size of his own drink, the time for Heleana’s maid to start getting their children ready for the night, the moment his mother the Queen finally stops fretting for long enough to enjoy a moment of peace. And for you… He knows it’s a sound that makes you anxious, reminded that you’re alone for the next hours to come. And he supposes that makes the repeating, melodic chants the sign that he’s about to have company any second too, and for that he guesses he’s grateful.

Grateful for the warning, or for the company, he’s not quite sure. He swishes the burgundy liquid around the cup until he hears the familiar click of the door, and the heavy knock. “Come,” he doesn’t look up from the drink, instead perching it onto his lip.

“Her majesty the Princess, my Prince.” The guard doesn’t usher you inside as much as you waltz in, low dress falling every so softly over your frame as the man spares just a few looks and nods, retreats and closes the door back behind him without another word. Curt, quite unlike the older man. Aemond can only guess you’ve been at this for long enough now for the guard to have made peace with the fact that the Prince doesn’t care. And that whether or not he accepts, you’ll enter anyway.

“You shouldn’t walk around the palace after dark,” your brother says, taking a sip of the wine before his eye ends up falling onto you without wanting to. “You’re the first person to blame when people start spinning rumors.”

“I don’t care about the opinions of ladies in waiting or the small council. I am not the Queen,” you simply reply, pulling your dress up to sit down on his bed beside him, knocking knees. “If you’re worried about rumors, you should hear what they say about you, big brother.” You’re not a bold person, but somehow, when it comes to him… every smart remark is able to fall from you like it’s a game. It amuses Aegon to no end, and even dares bring a smile to your mother’s face from time to time. Any of them expecting an outburst, to be sure, a fiery bite back or a quick smack to the back of your skull. And if you were another of his siblings, he supposes his family would be right. But somehow… it doesn’t bother him as much when it’s you.

Still not enough to have him silenced, though. His lip lifts into a grimace. “Enlighten me.”

“I won’t.”

Your feet are bare on the stone floor and your untied hair sways softly with each movement, and like this you sit by his side late at night, as you’ve taken to doing ever since half of your family moved back to Dragonstone. You’ve always gotten along better with people, were able to ignore your grudges better. An admirable trait, if not a weak one. He searches for something to say back to your resolute refusal, but fails. And lets out a sharp breath, glaring.

Whatever is going on in your tepid, little mind, you slowly place your feet upon his thighs, and shuffle a little closer. And his hands follow to come grab your ankles, half to keep you steady, but the other half in warning. It is a fact of your family that everything exists in pairs. Your mother and Sire for one, your eldest brother and his sister the future Queen… and you seem to have taken that to mean that you and Aemond exist in a pair too.

Always shoving past his barriers like it’s your birthright, with those big, searching eyes and a dopey, genuine smile that seems to belong more to a story book than the stern darkness that is expected of your family. A part of him wants to hate you for it. For being so callous when the rest of them are struggling to stay afloat. Unburdened by responsibilities, or haunted by dramatics. He could tell you he hates you too, but that wouldn’t do him much good. Not with you.

Still trapped by his grip, you stretch your hands to his face and place them to his cheeks, and he groans. “Take your hands off of me.” The irony of your soft skin playing beneath his fingers doesn’t go lost on him. “If I wrestle you to the floor and belt your little ass, you won’t be able to go crying to the Queen for it. I’m warning you.” You don’t listen, or care, before your hands slide to the back of his head and start slowly unbuckling the clasp of his eyepatch.

“Your eye is hurting again, isn’t it? You always get difficult when the chambermaids don’t clear out the smoke.”

He squeezes his hands harder around your little ankles. “You’re not a Maester, don’t speak of things like you know them,” he snaps back, only to move his hands to support your bottom when you push closer and press to slide into his lap for better access. Settling so comfortably against him, he doesn’t move his hands. “Shouldn’t you be learning your rhymes and asking the septa for some hot blankies instead of fussing over me-”

“-If you didn’t make your own little sister fuss over you, maybe I could.” You stubbornly peel the patch away to reveal the brightly glistening stone in the candle light, casting blue flickers all over the room. But he’s too busy looking at you to notice, ignoring the way your weight is pressed upon his lap. He has to ignore it. You tuck the pink little sliver of your tongue between your teeth as you let out a nasally breath, and your lashes cast dark, little shadows into the depths of your eyes. Sure enough, he can feel the relief the second you take a wet towel from the jar to the side and press it to the irritated skin, scar pulling and sore.

You’re awfully gentle with it. With him.

“I told you to take your fucking hands off of me,” he repeats, softer this time, watching as you still and he titls his head back to lean atop the chair, and helping you up onto your knees on his thighs. This way you’re fully above him, and with better access to his face, and you stay so very quiet. Unflinching. You suck your lip into your mouth for a second before releasing it, and then slowly start wiping again.

“You shouldn’t speak to me that way.” If you make a sport out of prodding, he makes a sport out of making blows hit.

“I am your big brother, I’ll speak to you as I wish. And I wish you to know what an insolent little cunt you are.” It’s out before he stops to think about it, and you instantly let him know it lands. By slipping off of his lap with a huff and tossing the rag onto the table, while accidentally knocking over the cup and spilling it over the table. You don’t stop to see the damage you cause as you stomp toward the exit, and he’s up and pulling at your dress before you can get far.

“Get off of me, Aemond,” you screech as he wraps long arms around your waist and you let your entire weight hang into them, squirming to get out. “You’re so annoying! Agh-uhh—Seven Hells!”

He can’t help the grin that slips on as he clenches his jaw, and doubles down. Because that’s what he does. You know it, and he knows it— and you go round in circles. “I could tell your septa you’re a misbehaved brat.”

“You’re a gross pervert, you—Ugh, f- You get your dirty hands off of me.” You spew the words like hot venom in his face when you make it halfway out of his grip and dig your nails into his arm and go to bite at his hand, before he manhandles you to the cold floor and bars you from moving under his hard grip. “Ae- Aemond! You’re the worst!” One arm almost pressing onto your throat, and the other over the soft of your stomach, as he takes a few breaths. Your own equally winded, as you start blinking like crazy to avoid the onslaught of tears that is to follow. “Aemond, let go.”

“Pervert?” he raises his brows now that you’ve stopped struggling, and gives you a look that reads ‘really?’ as underlying question clear as day. One you’re not inclined to answer, because you bite your bottom lip as glare at him as a drop rolls down your temple. You’re hot in the cheeks, hair a mess with the struggle, and your body feels ever so small under him now. Reminds him that he’s been told you’re too small to defend yourself by his mother, his father, and even their uninvolved craven of a brother. But you sure don’t act like it. Even if they are right.

“Just get off of me, you’re heavy.” And there it is. When he invades too far and too aggressively, and you stop pushing back to win it, it’s suddenly like it's a matter of life and death in your mind. When you declare the game is no longer to be won, there’s not a single move that’ll sate you. The signs are easy to read. The way you avert your eyes from him is one of them, and the crinkle between your brows as you stare resolutely at the door like you’re hoping a guard will just burst in to save you. When he doesn’t move quickly enough, you change your tune. “Will you please get off of me? I want to go to bed.”

Aemond lets out a sound between a laugh and a huff, and rights himself a little, but keeps hold of your shoulders pressed to the floor. Making him feel bad is another of those magical traits you have, that he hates about you. Leave it up to his youngest sibling to make his stomach feel heavy and empty, like he hasn’t eaten in days. A hungry beast declaring war at seeing you this way. “Hate me again, do you?” he asks without much fire, and your eyes go hard, and mouth a thin line.

“All you want to do is try to hurt me,” you hiss back when his fingers creep up to wipe the silvery line of tears along your cheek, brushing hair away from your face and taking you in as you are. Before you finally look at him again as the hall outside the door stays quiet. You’ve gone through this same song and dance too many times, cried wolf a bit too often. The guards don’t want to risk disturbing him with that temper, he knows they whisper it behind his back.

But it’s of no difference to you, because if looks could kill, you’d have one brother less by now. You manage to worm your arm out of his grip to wipe your own eyes again, before lowering your tone. “If you hate me so much, feel free to kill me sooner rather than later.” As if he’d let just anyone do what you do. As if he’d be so close to someone he hates. He has only you. Still your chest rises and falls with a heavy motion. “At least I wouldn’t have to marry some ugly, old lord if you did.”

In moments like these, he remembers. You’re a burning wildfire with enough fuel to light up an entire city; and you have no intention of doing any less than the rest of them. But stupid. And ignorant. He gets up and takes his heavy body off of you to see the mark where his arm presses so hard into your collarbones, already starting to bruise. “You’re an idiot,” he simply says, and gets up from the floor and up from you. You stare as he does, but keep your mouth shut. And Aemond swears to himself and averts his eye from you to readjust his pants, with suddenly more interest in the canopy of the bed than the soft, warm body of his little sister. “Get out.”

You get up from the floor with slow movements, too slow for his liking, and he walks back over to grab your arm and hoist you up onto your feet as you cling onto his tunic. But though he wants to keep you as far as he can away from his sanity in moments like these, he doesn’t resist when you linger so close he can count your lashes, and feel your puffs of air on his lips. He keeps your dress sleeve fisted into his hand as you stand up onto your toes and pull his shoulders more down to your level, until you can nearly brush your noses and you press a kiss to his lips. Soft and warm, it makes his heart knot and roll around in his chest, and makes your little hands squeeze around his shoulders. “Aemond…”

He dips again, and connects that smart mouth of yours to his without second thought. Another long kiss is met by a soft rumble of his chest, and he is halfway to leaning into you further when you drop back onto your heels. Leaving his mouth tingling with heat. “Ser Arryc is waiting for me to return to my chambers.” You fix your dress and wait for him to slowly peel his fingers out of the fabric, before sucking hard on your bottom lip as you turn about here and there in sudden nerves. “Well, good eve.”

And then he’s left alone for the night, with the memory of your body pressed under him, withering, fighting, crying. And no one to plead him to stop as he twitches in his pants.

As younger siblings dare do, you have an intrinsic ability to set his nerves on end. Born and bred for it even, he’d dare say, as he lets his gaze trail after you. The dragonpit is no place for one of your disposition, and though perhaps the same could be said about Helaena, there’s a few cards laid differently between you both. Youngest sibling, and having grown up without any dragon to speak of. Blame the lack of eggs to distribute to the last of Viserys’ children. Helaena also doesn’t possess the uncanny and endlessly bothering capacity to make his blood sour in his veins with a simple look.

His older sister doesn’t really bestow a care to any of you, while you— care about being loving way too much. He can feel his brows start to pull almost distractingly as you prance around with wide eyes and flit about next in and out of the covered hall. Sunfyre is the current object of your affections, and Aegon’s glittering smirk as he watches you coo and bathe him in compliments has his hands tightening around the handle of his sword where it hangs against his side. “She’ll soon fetch a handsome collection of suitors, don’t you think?” his mother asks innocently, distractedly, as he juts out his lips in slight annoyance. She’s gone from distant and sheltering, to exceedingly fretful these last few years.

Aemond hums a vague noise, but doesn’t bother to look away from your soft shape set against the big beast— and how you shine up like a penny at his oldest brother with compliments. He clicks his tongue, and his mother distantly continues from his side. Out of all the people for you to fawn over… all the beasts to be impressed by— he attempts to focus on the conversation aimed at him, but glares around the field instead. At the guards who feel a bit too comfortable casting glances your way, or a brave squire taking a bit too fond a notice. Every second of it makes his jaw set tighter. “Your grandfather the Hand would rather see her married off sooner than later but— Oh, Aegon,” his mother suddenly speaks with a slight worry.

You’re climbing onto the dragon. No, Aegon -the fool- is making you climb up, putting his grimy hands under your bottom and just about heaving you towards the saddle himself.

“Aegon, stop that,” his mother tries again, starting to make her way down the stage as the eldest turns to look at them both, “your sister can’t be up there by herself. She’ll get hurt-”

“-I’ll get her.” For once he’s glad for his mother’s ever present concern, and hurries past to walk up to you. You, with your hair sun kissed in the evening light, and your cheeks and lips full of mirth as you glance over at your mother first, and then him. His brother’s staring up your dress by the time you’re standing fully on his shoulders, and doesn’t even bother to wipe the grin off his face, tongue peeking out in full enjoyment— Aemond doesn’t have time for this absolute mockery. “Get down,” is all he has to say, for your pretty, flushed face full of excitement to blank. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth as you stare back at him for a few seconds… before slowly starting to slide back toward him.

“Oh, Aemond, don’t be a bother—”

His hand is wrung in his older brother’s tunic before he has time to blink, glaring absolute venom his way, nostrils flaring. Alicent calls for him from a distance, but the plea goes unheeded. The fabrics of your dress are halfway obstructing Aegon’s face as you try to get down, but there’s still plenty of room for a dagger to be fit somewhere into it, a thought rings; one he banishes with some fight. Instead he simply reaches a hand for you to grab, and motions you to get down already. You jump and wobble upon landing, and he grabs your wrist tight when you try to run off. But he still hasn’t stopped glaring at Aegon, to his own surprise, chest rising and falling a bit too quickly to be normal. “You try that again-”

“-and you’ll what, little brother?”

“Don’t fight,” you quickly quip in, tugging softly on his pinky as Aemond’s mouth corners tug up, and he squeezes the fabric tight enough around his own brother’s neck to hurt. He leans in, ignoring your pulling and begging to really tower over Aegon. And Sunfyre gets restless beside them, scaring you even more. “Aemond, please. No harm was done.”

Aegon’s face turns a harsh ruddy color with each passing second, and Aemond’s never enjoyed a sight quite so much. “Shall we see how you do without your eyes, brother?” He releases all at once, just in time enough for their mother to miss how he steps back and gives you a look to keep your lips glued shut. If Aegon wants to tell, he’s at least smart enough to keep quiet, for now. The woman looks between the three of you in worry. But he has no intention of explaining. He couldn’t, really. The absolute blinding rage dies down enough for him to suck the sourness off his tongue and take your hand better, lacing fingers. “I’ll take her back to the keep.”

The Red Keep has never felt smaller as you don’t say anything until you get all the way to your chambers, staring resolutely at the floor. And though his mood hasn’t changed, there’s part — parts of him, that want you to just look his way like you usually do too much of. Your guard is quick to open your door, but stares a little too long when he lingers. “You may go see upon the King, Ser,” he says curtly, and before he can care enough to watch the man leave, closes your door behind you both. “Are you an absolute imbecile, that you’d let Aegon disrespect you in front of everyone?”

“It wasn’t anything to get upset over, he wasn’t hurting me!” you bite back as you do, making him crowd you against the door.

“Oh, no,” he rolls his eye, “he was only about to do much worse later!” You stay pressed between his body and the door as you stare up at him and hold your hands to his chest, both of you breathing hard. But you don’t back down, don’t roll over and apologize. And that bothers him. It shouldn’t, and yet… “Hah,” the sound of it is hard and sharp as he lifts your hands above your head in place with his own. Your lips are a puffy, flushed color, and eyes so focused on him that it momentarily distracts him. Before the feeling of you against him comes back full force, as always. Try as he might, he can’t escape you. “You like that sort of perversion, then?”

“I don’t know what kind of perversion you speak of.” You’re whispering now, long lashes spread over the haunting appearance of you below him. Swallowing hard, chest rising and falling. Hell, the way you look is entirely deviant, but he still leans in despite knowing better. You smell faintly of dragon, but the majority of it is still that soft, sweet innocence that drives him to grab at your chin and force your face to his. And your free hand reaches for his cheek, cold fingers brushing his skin. Your lips brush his as he allows himself to sink just a little lower, letting you moan into his mouth. “Aemond… big brother, please.”

“What do you think you’re playing at?” He lets the soft kisses be placed onto his lips in between the words, resolve growing weaker by the second. How did he get here? And why? Aemond isn’t like Aegon, so why does the sight of you all soft and needy below him have him so hot in the face. Heat burning all along his neck, chest, down to his… cock. He knows very well your poor mother would riot at his taking of your virtue. Because unlike Aegon, she knows he knows better. But you press your mouth against him again, and let your soft, little tongue push against the crack of his mouth with another moan— all while arching against him.

“Haven’t you thought about it?” He’s only half aware his hand is grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you up against his hips as your lips make those little noises against his, lifting you so you can wrap your legs around his glutes. The pressure of your body grinding up against his is entirely wanton, your eyes glossy and lips even glossier. “Taking me to wife?”

“You’re set to marry a lord—”

“I want to marry you. Don’t you want to marry me too? Have me abide by your side, call me ‘yours’?” Your hands slide into his hair, pulling at the hair at the base of his skull just enough to have his tongue push back into a kiss and take the warmth of your mouth as his own. Hotly, with a demanding rumble of his chest you’re kissed- the sweetness of your mouth and warm, squirming tongue against his. It’s intoxicating, setting every hair on his body upright. He grabs your cheeks to keep you in place even when you try to pull back, kissing longer, deeper— like he could die in it. He probably could.

When you’re allowed to pull back you roll your hips against him with a slight smile, and pant against his mouth. “Isn’t that why you love laying on top of me?” His breathing ceases automatically, chest tightening a little more. All he ever hoped was never to hear it out loud. Don’t breathe life into it and it won’t exist, right? See no evil. Your little smile grows a little more as you kiss him again, and he doesn’t pull away, though he should. Your daring tongue moves down his jaw to his neck instead, licking along his pulse as you push. Can’t help but stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, right, a family trait? “Doesn’t that get your cock hard, big brother?”

He takes a stuttered breath as he turns and you cling onto him, walking over to the bed to lay you down and place his large hand over your mouth. “Shut. Up.” You lick the inside of his hand, and he hisses before grabbing your thigh instead, tight enough for your pretty little face to turn into a grimace, and you pull his hair a little harder. Doesn’t matter. He’s nose to nose with you, his own little sister, the one who was always so fond of him it was annoying as sin— as every bit of pretense evaporates by the second. “Do you even know what you’re talking about when you say that?”

“I know what Aegon taught me,” you breathe back against his lips, and it’s this -not any of the other stuff, though that should have done it too- that has his blood turning green with jealousy and has him shutting you up with a kiss, hands sliding up your body over the tight bodice. You’re burning underneath him, lifting your back from the mattress as he crawls further up the bed and over you. You’re so flimsy and small beneath him that it should be laughable. All it does is make his cock so much harder in his pants, as your noises ring above the smacking of mouths and tongues and teeth. Your little fingers press into his shoulders hard and needy. “Mhm-Ae-mond.”

He pulls at the clothing under his hands until you squeak and it rips, one of the too-many layers you’re wearing dropping to the side. He pulls back to stare at you and the way you’re biting your lip, eyes flicking from him to his pants. His cock is chubbed up against the fabric as much as it will allow, and starting to get too tight for his liking, but as you reach out a hand, he smacks it away. Instead he slides a hand under your head to pull your hair and you make a little noise of displeasure, until he leans back in. “When you talk like that it makes me want to smack you around. You understand that?” You whine into the silence, but don’t fight back as he makes your head nod. “You know what I am?”

“B-big brother-”

“Then treat me like it. Open your mouth.” For a few seconds and deep breaths through your nose, you seem to debate it, but whatever you see in his eye eventually has you obliging. He collects a good glob of spit and has it land onto your tongue, and you cry out something unintelligible— but let him slide his thumb into the wet mess of your tongue as your lips get even shinier with all the wetness. Before he can say anything though, you wrap your lips around his digit and whimper. It’s a little too disarming, and his cock twitches hard in his pants. Balls heavy and length straining against the confines. He lets out a little breath, before pulling back out of your suckling mouth to grab himself through his pants. “Shit.”

Your voice sounds so much more high pitched and girly when you speak again, a strange sort of mockery of him over top of you, but it works. Fuck, if it doesn’t. “Please, please, please, big brother.” You whine his name and press tens of little kisses to his mouth, he feels how his balls pull against his body at the display. You get impatient though, start pulling the top half of your dress down to reveal your shoulders and then, with another little noise, your tits. He’s ahead of you though, pulling you down more and leaning in to lock his mouth around your puffy nipple to suck hard, have you curling off the bed with pitiful whimpers. “Big brother, mh-ah- big- br-brother.”

He starts working the drawstrings of his trousers to get them down as quickly as possible too, moving to the other tit and taking as much of it into his mouth to lave his tongue all over it. You sound almost beside yourself with pleasure, kneading at his shoulders and neck like you’re losing your clouded, little mind for him. He gets out of his pants enough to kick them off the rest of the way and lay his much larger body on top of you, back to your face to kiss you with slow, deeper kisses. Then he pulls back, for only a moment of true emotion, to grab your blushy cheeks between his fingers and stare. “Are you still…”

You go limp, and embarrassed and flushed with heat all at once, and squeeze his hips between your thighs like it’s meant to hurt. All it does is push your covered cunt against his rock hard cock and make him take a sharper breath. “Of course I am-” you bite out though, digging your nails into his shoulders a bit harder like you’re just wanting him to keep going. “What- that not good enough for you?”

But he’s quick to shake his head, and press a few spare kisses along your ear, finally being able to let out a little grin at your flustering. “You’ll let me take your maidenhood?” You’re back to whining his name in that overly girly, pouty voice; and he sucks at the shell of your ear for long enough to have you shivering below him. Your little breaths and noises are too fucking cute. And the way you’re pawing at your dress to get it up your body is even cuter. “Beg big brother Aemond to have you. Take you.”

“Just do it already,” you mumble though, and your eyes tear up at the corners.

So fucking cute. He shrugs the eyepatch off too, half for comfort, half at the grabbing of your hands. And pulls back just in time to see how much it pains you to admit it out loud, and rubs his fingers over your wet, pebbled nipples while your eyes flutter and your hands go open and closed at the feeling. He keeps one hand busy by unlacing part of your dress, as the other pinches each nipple until you suck your lip into your mouth and can’t stand it anymore. “Please, big brother? ‘Mond, please-uhh. Please, please do it? W-want you to.”

His lips curl up again at your admission, as he takes you in a few more seconds, grinds his center against your thigh while he’s at it. His cock is leaking enough pre to make a wet spot on his undergarments, red head twitching every few seconds. If he’ll wait any longer he might explode— until you finally give up and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back close to you in total embarrassment. “I saved myself for my big broth-errr—” you whine like a child, burying your face into his neck, “so please! Only wanted my big brother to- I swear. Only love my Aemond.”

This way you don’t see— just what it does. This way you don’t notice it has him hook, line and sinker, and he grunts out loud as he has to grab the base of his cock tight not to shoot hot ropes of cum all over your thighs. He lets you press your tits into him as he shudders over you, and you make a little noise as he suddenly yanks the dress down your body, over your thighs and kicks it aside. “Off, get this off…” You open your teary eyes to see him plant another kiss onto your face, down your neck and to your tits as your chest heaves against him. Your panties are absolutely soaked, and he’d make a crude comment about it if he was any more lucid— but…

He can’t possibly think about anything but sliding his heavy cock inside your little cunt. “Fuck, fuck… you want to fuck me?” His fingers slide over the wet patch as your mouth cracks open a sliver, before peeling them off you with impatient yanks. You nod wildly into it in response, and let him press another kiss onto your mouth to tangle your wet, squirming little tongue with his. It’s vile, the way he thinks about fucking you like this. But it’s all that overtakes him, rutting his leaking cock against that wet little slit. And his fingers have to push in a little to make it halfway into your wet pussy, softly scissoring you apart as your mouth opens more. “You’re dripping all over my hand,” he breathes into your mouth, and you close your eyes and pull your lips into a tight little line.

“‘M sorry.”

“You imbecile.” The dry, non-humoured chuckle is unexpected even to him, as he pulls his wet fingers from between your legs to slip them straight into his mouth and his eye rolls into the back of his skull with a low groan. His fingers go back to rub at that wet slit, as you moan and whine his name like it’s a prayer. His cock bobs heavily between his legs while he fingers you in the heat of the shared bed, and you mumble noises against his skin.

“Aemond, Aemo-ngh.. big, you’re— r-big.” You’re panting, and shivering as his fingers slide in and out and get wetness to drip all the way to your ass, all over the inside of your thighs. Not even to talk about the pride burning along his neck at the way you’re clinging to him like you mean it. Your cunt stretches each time he moves them in and out and spreads them apart, staring at the way your little pussy clenches around his thick, long fingers with each pump. “Big brother—”

“Like that?”

“Mhm-” you’re nodding like a madman, and thighs shaking a little, but your tears are still glistening at the corners of your eyes, “I- f-feels good, bu-but you’re- going so- deep.” He doesn’t tell you that what you’ll be fitting in there in a few seconds will be much bigger, and only lets you drench the bed and wait for you to push back into his hand for that wet ‘pap, pap, pap’ sound and his palm can rub over your little nub. The sapphire in his eye socket makes obnoxious flickers on the walls, that only seem to cheer him on. Not for nothing, watching his baby sister cream all over his fingers like you are. “O-oh,” you say after a while, allowing him to curl his fingers all the way into you and your spongey, perfect spot to make your lower body curl so needily. “I… feel weird, Ae— feels- good- hng.”

Your little pussy is so wet everything’s glossy and needy, and his two fingers can finally slide in and out without much more resistance; though your noises would hardly convince him otherwise. Mewling and whimpering like you’re going to cry any second— it has him rock hard and so fucking sensitive. “I need you to keep that little cunt open for me, okay?” He presses the words into your mouth before rubbing his fingers over your puffy, needy clit; and you make to wrap your thighs around his glutes to keep him right to you— not that he’d go anywhere. “‘ll put it in. Have my cock filling my little sister up.”

He pats his cock against your clit a few times, before nodding at it. “Keep your thighs open, come on.” He doesn’t wait up for you to act as he pushes the leaking tip against your pretty, clenching hole and leans over you to nose at your neck, grabbing at your perky, pretty tits to pebble up your nipples more with each swipe, before kissing you again. He can’t help it, can’t get enough of your moans into his mouth, filling up the room. He pushes in, the slowest he can bare as your hot fucking pussy envelops his cockhead and you moan and whine. “Oh, dear g— goin’ to fuck my little sister for real,” he breathes back, too much to keep it in.

“Ah, ah, ah— Aemond- Aw, oh-hmn- ah.” Your desperate little noises are impossible. Sliding in deeper with each breath, over filling that tiny pouch of your tummy like he was always meant to be inside it. His arms strain not to fuck right into you hard and fast with the way you’re wiggling and curling against him, slick a soft pink when he pulls back to thrust in deeper. “Big bro—ther,” you whine it long and needy, as it has him sliding into you until he bumps up against the walls of your tight fucking cunt. So tight it’s making his balls pull up, entire body so hot it’s almost unbearable. Your one Targaryen claim to heritage. His little sister.

“Love you, big brother, l-love you.”

“Ugh, shit, you’re so tiny. So tight, hot— and wet,” he’s rambling to himself more than to you as he rocks himself into that spongy spot in you, watching your body try to take all of him in. Your eyes are a little lidded, glistening and so pretty and desperate as he pulls back and into you again, hitting your cervix once more. You shudder, and he can’t help but press onto your tummy to make the fit even tighter. It’s too much. Your clenching walls around his big, hard cock— that tight, wet little cunt clinging onto him each time he pulls back, your face as he takes you. “You’re only mine,” he hisses, “only mine, you understand? Gon’ make you my wife and make you carry my heirs. Waiting to give your maidenhood away to the better brother, right?”

“Hng, yes- yes, yes! Please!” You kiss him first, before grinding hard against him and pulling at his hand. “Aemond, Aem— b- I feel- weird-” you admit, smacking your lips and desperately curling your toes against his glutes. “Big bro-ther-agh-h—”

He can’t possibly stop now, frown instantly digging into his brows as you cling to him. He doesn’t bother to even pretend to care as his cock kisses your pussy walls and his white pubic hair rubs over your overly sensitive nub, but you keep on whining for him. “Weird how?” He pulls his face up from your neck only to watch how your cheeks are flushed and your eyes flick all over his face, your tongue jutting out. And suddenly, it doesn’t take you explaining for him to press his rough thumb to your clit and rub rapid circles into it, for you to start going all tense. “This? You want to come for me like a good, little whore?”

You can’t speak. Only clench your eyes shut as he keeps rubbing- and grabs your face with his free hand. “Look at me. Look at me as you get to come on big brother’s cock.” You physically can’t open your eyes through your tears, but he demands it anyway, and watches as you go a bit cross-eyed at the perfect pressure. Your cunny clenches so hard around his cock it hurts, but he doesn’t stop his hips and the loud sound of skin meeting skin. “No one loves you like I do,” he says it like a prayer, whispering into the silence as your mouth drops open and you let out some broken noises, “no one.”

And you desperately claw at his back and tangle your fingers into his hair to pull, your legs tightening around his thighs to get his steady, brutal pace to slow down even a little— but nothing stops your orgasm from crashing over you with a pitched squeak of his name, and your body shuddering so hard beneath him the bed creaks with the motion. Each hard bottoming out in your small cunt having you jerking and moaning a string of unintelligible explicites into his mouth, before he kisses you long and deep. Your tongue can barely do anything except take what he gives, until he fucks you through your orgasm and his balls are so, so hot, his cock twitching every few breaths.

You look perfect as you come down and let him fuck into you even more, pussy like a vice around his too-big-for-you cock. It’s a miracle really, it didn’t happen sooner. Two of a whole. As always, you take and he gives, as is your role in the family.

#hotd smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #tw.incest #tw.size kink

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heartofbusan · 2 months

Text

The sun's radiant vibe.

Rebirth and the declaration of Park Jimin.

DPPAKCVBMMNNN HES SO PRETTY. HELP. FOCUS.

Over on Twix, a quietly renowned translator named Colin delivers his version of lyric translations for nearly all BTS songs. He just posted his translations of MUSE and boy..🫠...be sure to read them as they are well thought out and nuanced. It's just beautiful the way he seeks to find the most fitting word to convey a feeling. His translation made me realize that people been sleeping on Rebirth. Not only streaming wise, it's kinda lagging behind, but lyrics wise as well.

It's been my clear favorite since I first heard it. It reminds me of church music, say I the atheist. But it's the way that choirs can move your soul with those soaring compositions and exalted professions of love for the glorious in a harmonious coming together of voices. It's just so beautiful. I can hear you screaming: THERE’S AN ACTUAL CHOIR SINGING ALONG, OH, so that might just be it, Sherlock 🧐 ok ok. Noted.

It's also that line: "With you. I will be your reason, reason." He's singing his promise, his praise.

Rebirth is Jimin laying his love at the altar, ready to be either burned or scorned or blessed. In any case, he's no longer hiding. He's professing. He's been through utter despair, and there was his love, arm outstretched. He wants to be as one.

Furthermore, i think Rebirth is kind of a coda to the closing song of FACE: Letter.

If Letter is a quiet confession, whispered from one lover's lips to the other's ear, warm breath tickling his hair, then Rebirth is Brat.

Rebirth is one hell of an opening song. Bold and bravely confident, utterly romantic in the meeting your lover at dawn kinda way. But the irony lies in that it would be an amazing closing song of an album. The way the choir lingers and the music resonates long after the song has ended. The clapping! It screams, ending concert song, and the audience is absolutely weeping, hugging their seat mates, mascara running, chimmy headband drooping.

There's probably a technical explanation for why, but I'm telling you, a closing song. Because once Showtime (interlude) hits, we're in a totally new environment audibly and emotionally. Yet it had to be the intro because it's the seed that was planted in FACE.

Rebirth is this Jimin:

"Both he and the object of his affection have feelings for each other." It's mutual. Equal. I am you, you are me much?!

"So that I can sing as we lock eyes." Insert TTU 'But I still want you.' gif here

"...implying that the other person won't let him remain hidden."

'In my despair, you act as light. Like the sun's radiant vibe, You pass by me tenderly.'

The sun is tenderly beckoning him with its warmth, to finally step into the light. We all know who has been there for Jimin throughout 2022/2023, encouraging him both publicly with his simping and privately.

Jimin told Namjoon in MMM that JK diligently helped him, assisting him when he spent two months re-training his voice for longevity.

I don't want to read more into the lines of a song that could also be totally make-believe, but it's Jimin were talking about. A man who is willing to break down himself, piece by piece, to rebuild himself back stronger, more confident, and with his eye firmly set towards the future. Do we think he wouldn't speak in these exalted terms about his good love? Have you heard Letter!?!

*DEEEP SIGH*

No wonder Jimin wants to give pay back in bedtime cuddles. 🙂‍↕️

Rebirth is so confident, and it's not only the lyrics mind you. It's also the way he sings notes we haven't heard him sing this brazenly before. I will scream into the void once he performs this live someday. CAN YOU IMAGINE?!

Stream Muse and Rebirth for Real Love.

TLDR: Jimin is GOAT, author a simp.

#jimin #park jimin #kookmin #jikook #muse #rebirth #author cannot be brief nor concise about this song #jimin as johnny castle #i need this fic!#Spotify

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yoongiseesawmp3 · 2 years

Text

made for this - wooyoung (m)

part of the church boy series.

summary: you’re volunteering for this year’s vacation bible school, and wooyoung’s little brother just so happens to be in your group. is it wrong of him to use kyungmin as his wing man? eh, who cares. wooyoung is just determined to get you to fall for him before the week is over, and he’ll do whatever it takes.

word count: 10.5k

warnings: light smut!!! afab reader. wooyoung is whipped.

“kyungmin, come here!” you shout, shortly followed by a sigh. he’s not a problem child, per se, but whenever he sees his older brother he goes running.

wooyoung, said older brother, is a vbs volunteer, like yourself. except he’s with the older kids, and you’re stuck with the younger group. you’re still dealing with some criers, some biters, and some brats, while wooyoung’s biggest issue is keeping his one fourth grader off her phone.

his brother, kyungmin, is one of your youngins. he’s sweet, and funny, and smart. all things he shares with his brother, but you’d pick kyungmin over wooyoung any day. wooyoung makes your blood boil only slightly, so you sigh again as you head his way so you can peel kyungmin off his leg.

“come on, bud, we gotta go outside for games,” you say politely, patting kyungmin on his back. you don’t make eye contact with wooyoung, trying to keep this interaction short.

“listen to your leader, kid,” wooyoung encourages, shaking his leg and jostling his brother. “y/n.”

“wooyoung,” you smile curtly. “kyungmin, seriously. i’m not even gonna count i’m just gonna leave you here.”

“no please, take him,” wooyoung begs, and you have to laugh. kyungmin looks up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes and you tickle him under his chin. his giggle makes you and wooyoung smile, which warms wooyoung’s heart. you have a soft spot for the little one, even if you didn’t want to admit it. it made him happy seeing someone else dote on his brother the same way he does.

“ok,” you sigh. “guess i’ll have to eat your snack if you don’t come with me.”

“no!” kyungmin yelps, detaching himself from wooyoung’s leg finally. “i’ll come with you.”

“great choice,” you smile. “say goodbye to your brother.”

“bye,” kyungmin waves sadly, and you take his free hand and give it a squeeze.

“bye smelly,” wooyoung replies, and kyungmin shouts “hey!” to which wooyoung says, “i wasn’t talking to you, that was for y/n.”

“yeah, y/n stinks!” kyungmin laughs, and you groan. you shoot a glare at wooyoung and he waves sweetly.

“thanks,” you tell him. “that’s gonna be fun to deal with all day.”

“have fun!” wooyoung sing songs, finally following his class to their next station as you usher yours outside.

you really don’t like wooyoung, you think to yourself.

too bad though, because wooyoung really likes you.

your relationship with wooyoung is complicated. well, let’s not call it a relationship, because if he knew you even used that word in relation to him it would make him levitate. no, your, uh, friendship? with wooyoung is kinda weird. you grew up together at the church, but went to different schools and therefore had different friends and different lives. but you saw each other a few times every week for the past 20 or so years, and that constitutes some kind of situation based friendship at least. when you were kids, he’d swap snacks with you when he got animal crackers and you got pretzels. he’d save a seat for you at choir practice, and you’d make sure to find him during worship on youth nights. a couple times you even did joint costumes for the pg halloween parties the youth ministry held, so yeah, you were friends with wooyoung. but had you ever seen him outside of church? no, absolutely not.

that hasn’t stopped wooyoung from utterly falling in love with you, though. he was in denial for a few years, initially thinking his prepubescent feelings for you were just side effects of his changing body. but as he went through high school and now into college and adulthood, he’s realized there’s always been a part of him that hoped you’d be into him too. so far you’ve given him no reason to think you are, especially as of late. when you were younger your friendship was lazy, sure, mostly by proximity than anything else, but now you barely talk to him. it took an act of god for you to end up as kyungmin’s group leader for vbs (not really, wooyoung just learned you could request a certain leader and the kid would pretty much end up there). but it still made his heart leap when he got the email about volunteer assignments and he saw your name paired with his brother’s.

so why does wooyoung get the vibe that you don’t like him anymore? well, earlier this year he broke your best friend’s heart. she went off to another university while you stayed close to home, and she kept telling you about “the most amazing guy” who “might just be the one” and come to find out, it was wooyoung all along. he wasn’t aware that your friend even liked him, he thought they were just really good friends, and wooyoung just happens to be super touchy with the people he’s comfortable around. so what your friend construed as wooyoung being into her was just wooyoung being wooyoung. that went on for about a semester before wooyoung finally broke it to your friend that he had feelings for someone else, and it took you a while to help your friend repair that damage. that’s left a bad taste in your mouth toward wooyoung since, plus he just seems to be more annoying lately, too. you were thrilled to have kyungmin in your group for the week, but it irked you that you’d be around wooyoung so much against your will. everyone outgrows their childhood friends at some point, right? maybe this was your chance to leave mr. elmo laugh behind.

even though this is just the second day of vbs, you’re exhausted when your final kid is picked up at dismissal. well, technically your final kid. kyungmin is still in your care, and he’s excitedly kicking his feet trying to stay still while he waits for his brother to finish up with his group and take him home. your other volunteer already left, so you take a seat next to kyungmin and ask him about the day and what he liked most. he said he liked snack the best, because you traded with him so he could get pretzels and you’d get his animal crackers, just like you used to do with wooyoung. he hears this as he’s walking up, and his heart warms at the sight of you and his lil bro sharing stories and giggling over the day. wooyoung would stop and admire the scene in front of him longer, but you turn just slightly to settle in the chair and see wooyoung from the corner of your eye.

“oh, hey kyungmin, your ride’s here,” you say, nudging your little buddy, and instantly he’s out of his chair and in wooyoung’s arms.

“hi,” kyungmin smiles and wooyoung just laughs.

“where’s your stuff, kid? don’t leave anything behind,” wooyoung warns, and his brother hops down and gathers his goods from the day. wooyoung catches your eye and asks, “how was he?”

“i wanna say he was perfect, but that would just give him a big head,” you joke.

“yeah, and it’s massive already,” wooyoung joins in.

“just like his big bro,” you counter, and wooyoung feigns insult as kyungmin reappears at his side.

“ready!” he shouts, then looks up at his brother. “can we get mcdonald’s on the way home?”

“no, we have food at the house.”

“you sound just like mom,” kyungmin whines, and then he turns to you. “i bet y/n would let me go to mcdonald’s. y/n is more fun than you.”

“that’s true, i am more fun,” you agree, “and i would totally take him to mcdonald’s. you know they have adult happy meals right now?”

“then let’s go,” wooyoung says, catching you off guard.

“what?”

“let’s go to mcdonald’s,” wooyoung says again with a shrug. “my treat. consider it my thanks for holding min’s sticky hands all week.”

you try to protest but kyungmin is so excited you don’t think you can turn the offer down. you quickly grab your things (and one more thing kyungmin almost forgot) and follow wooyoung to his car. he’s got kyungmin on his back, so when you see wooyoung’s beat up hand-me-down car, you walk ahead so you can open the door and help get the little one into his car seat. wooyoung’s heart warms again, and you share a sweet smile as he slides kyungmin into the seat and you get him buckled.

“thanks for coming with us,” wooyoung says as he opens the passenger door for you.

“you said you were paying, so how could i turn it down?” you tease.

“oh, so you only want to spend time with me because i’m buying your lunch? low blow, y/n,” he whistles. “i thought our 20 plus years of friendship meant more to you than this.”

“but how much of that time were we actually friends?” you ask once wooyoung has made it to the driver’s side of the car. “we only ever hung out at church.”

“and you didn’t cherish every moment?” wooyoung asks, shocked.

“you guys are talking too much,” kyungmin pipes up from the backseat. “i want music.”

“hum to yourself, kid, the adults are talking,” wooyoung tells him.

“we can put some music on,” you offer.

“do you keep taking his side because he’s your favorite or is this payback for you still being mad at me?” wooyoung whines.

“both, actually. i’m a multitasker,” you tell him. “you want me to take the aux, or?”

“nothing with cuss words,” he sighs, handing you the cord.

“nothing with cuss words,” you mock as you plug your phone in, frantically turning the volume down just in case. you pick your babysitting playlist, which has plenty of kid-friendly songs from your favorite artists, and wooyoung chuckles when the first song plays.

“you still listen to them?” he asks, noticing the paramore song playing softly through the car.

“uh, yeah,” you reply. “they’re my favorite band, why wouldn’t i still listen to them?”

“they haven’t made an album in years!”

“they have one coming out next year-”

“y/n, turn it up!” that was kyungmin.

“not too loud or i can’t see,” wooyoung says.

“that makes no sense,” you respond, blasting the music only for wooyoung to turn it back down.

“no, seriously, there’s a weird turn to get into the parking lot so i need to focus,” wooyoung says as he checks his mirrors. “mom would kill me twice if i got in an accident with you and kyungmin in the car.”

“wooyoung is no fun, right little man?” you ask, craning your neck back to kyungmin. he nods in agreement and you start to say something else, but wooyoung flooring it to make the turn yoinks you back into your seat, and wooyoung can’t help but laugh at the pathetic sound you let out at the seatbelt holding you in place.

“you good?” he asks calmly, parking quickly so he can get out and help his brother before you have time to hit him for inadvertently choking you.

“you’re lucky your brother is here,” you grumble as you get out.

you all get your food, and kyungmin inhales it faster than you can even open the toy from your big kid meal. once he’s done, you both agree that he can play in the playplace if he washes his hands really good after, and then you’re alone with wooyoung. you pick at your fries for a minute, not realizing how awkward it would be without kyungmin as a buffer. you’re trying to still be mad at wooyoung, just a little bit, but he’s making it really hard. being away from him because of school made you forget how warm he made you feel, and how easy it is to be around him. he makes you want to be his friend, but you have to remind yourself that your actual best friend had her heart broken by the man sitting across from you. the man who’s currently putting fries into his mouth to make him look like a walrus. he gets your attention, hoping to make you laugh, and when you just stare back at him he sighs.

“tough crowd,” he mumbles, eating the fries quickly like that will make you forget that he just made a fool of himself. “so you are still mad at me.”

“just a little.”

“i’ll tell you the same thing i told her: i didn’t know she liked me. if i had, i wouldn’t have acted like that. i didn’t mean to lead her on, i swear,” he explains.

“yeah, but you still really hurt her,” you say. “i guess that’s what i’m still mad at. you’re not really recognizing that she got hurt because of what you did even if you didn’t mean to do it.”

“i really messed up, yeah,” he says. “i really liked being her friend, so i just got comfortable and didn’t think about how that would look. i just like being touchy with my friends.”

“yeah, but she told me you would like, hold her hand and walk her to class? kiss her forehead? like i know you’re a touchy but damn. and the whole time you were interested in someone else?”

“yeah, wonder who that could be,” wooyoung mumbles quietly, sipping his sprite as you go on. he notices that you’re using your hands a lot while you speak, and your elbow is dangerously close to the ketchup on your tray. he carefully pulls it to the middle of the table, and you stop midsentence.

“what are you doing?”

“you were about to dunk your arm in ketchup,” he explains, sneakily taking a fry as he speaks. “nothing else.”

“so not fair,” you reply, stealing a fry from his tray. this leads to a childish fight where one of you might have, maybe, thrown french fries across the table (it wasn’t wooyoung) but the mess was interrupted by a woman walking up to your table.

“um, excuse me,” she starts politely. “are you his parents?” she points toward the playplace, where you see kyungmin on the ground with his lip quivering. you don’t wait to hear what’s wrong from the woman before you’re springing up to help kyungmin, and wooyoung just watches on. he listens intently as the woman tells him kyungmin and her son were playing and min just lost his footing and fell, but it must have knocked the wind out of him because wooyoung sees you helping kyungmin breathe. he politely thanks the woman and joins you in the playplace, kneeling down to be at eye level with his brother.

“are you good, man? you fell pretty hard?” wooyoung asks, and kyungmin nods. “do you wanna go home?”

“yeah,” kyungmin nods, voice still shaky.

“ok, let’s go,” wooyoung says, picking min up easily while you grab his shoes. wooyoung takes him to wash his hands as you go back to the table and eat in silence. they come back as you finish your food, and you watch kyungmin not only eye your last chicken nugget but he seems very interested in the toy from your happy meal as well. you slide them both over to him, assuring him that he can have them, and then you start to clear the trays.

“i’ll go pull the car around,” wooyoung says as you help kyungmin throw away his things. you nod and grab kyungmin’s hand, trailing behind wooyoung. while you wait outside, you try to make kyungmin smile but the best you can get is a little giggle here and there.

“you need to eat lunch with us more,” kyungmin says. “you’re my favorite leader, and wooyoung really likes you too. so i think he had fun just like me.”

“you think so kid?” you ask as you ruffle his hair, and wooyoung pulls the car around. he smiles at you from the front seat as you help kyungmin into the car, his little words bouncing around your head. wooyoung really likes you too.

the next day at vbs is a rough one. you’ve got two kids that keep crying throughout the day (one periodically remembers her mom isn’t right next to her and the other keeps getting scared by his own hiccups) so you’re doing just about as well as you’d expect for this many kids of this age. but it’s a tough day for everyone, it seems. this morning wooyoung was made aware that one of his kids was bullying another older kids, and they made plans to go fight in the bathroom. at church! so on top of wooyoung needing to watch that one kid like a hawk, the rest of the group is afraid of this kid, and they also want to know every minute detail and therefore won’t shut the hell up. wooyoung looks frazzled, to say the least, and he doesn’t even pick on you when you pass by each other in the hallway. he gives a simple nod and waves to kyungmin before yoinking his line into the correct classroom. so you and kyungmin devise a plan.

you’re currently taking your kids to snack time, and that means you get to head to the volunteer snack room, which is perhaps what heaven actually looks like. people from the church donate all kinds of delicious food throughout the week, and it’s some of the best food you’ll eat all year. wooyoung’s group had snack first, which is decidedly the worst time to have snack because all that they set out for the volunteers is granola bars and maybe some fruit. you know that he needs a little pick me up, so you tell kyungmin that you’re going to make an extra plate and sneak it to wooyoung (food can’t leave the room because kids have allergies, lame) but you need kyungmin to fake a stomach ache so you have an excuse to go get wooyoung in the middle of a session.

“so you understand the plan?” you confirm with your mini-conspirator as you walk into the snack room.

“yep,” he says with a nod. “i’ll wait a few minutes-”

“how many exactly?”

“i’ll count to 300,” he informs you, and you do the math quickly.

“five minutes?”

“sure,” he shrugs. “i’ll count to that many and then tell one of the snack leaders i have a tummy ache. and then they’ll take me to you, and we can get my big brother.”

“perfect, kid,” you tell him, a smile on your face at how proud he looks. you lean down so you can whisper in his ear, “i’ll try to sneak a brownie just for you.”

“please!” he shouts out of excitement, and you have to shush him quickly. one of the snack room leaders looks at you funny and you assure her it’s nothing as you ruffle kyungmin’s hair before heading to snack paradise.

they’ve got a good spread today: sandwiches, cheese dip, those meatballs people only make for baby showers, and so many desserts. you try to quickly gather your plate without drawing attention, and just as you sit down there’s a knock at the door. everyone looks in that direction, and you see kyungmin hiding behind one of the snack volunteers. he’s putting on the show of his life, lip quivering, hand on his stomach, everything.

“y/n? sorry to bother you, but your friend here says his stomach hurts and he won’t let any of us help him,” she says sweetly.

“oh buddy,” you coo, heading toward the door then squatting in front of kyungmin. “what’s wrong sweet boy?”

“it’s my tummy,” he says in a shaky voice. “it hurts really bad.”

“like bathroom hurts or hurt hurts?” you ask, hoping kyungmin can continue playing along.

“i don’t know,” he says, and you nod before standing back up. you put your free hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze.

“is it alright if i head out and find his brother? he may need to go home,” you tell one of the snack room volunteers. he immediately eyes the plate of food in your hands, and kyungmin chooses that exact moment to whine. somebody give this kid an oscar!

“just don’t bring the food around the other kids and you should be fine,” he says, and you thank him quickly. you usher kyungmin down the hall, stopping at the cooler to grab a sprite which you pass to kyungmin, and a coke for yourself.

“maybe this will help settle your stomach, bud,” you say as you walk off, and when you’re far enough down the hall you let out a laugh. kyungmin looks up at you proudly, and you smile back. “dude! you did great! where’d you learn to act like that?”

“wooyoung and i pretend like that sometimes so we don’t have to do things with mom and dad,” kyungmin says easily, and you laugh at the idea of wooyoung using his little brother to get him out of unwanted situations. as you near the big kid’s hallway, you find a quiet spot to deposit your little sidekick and place the food on an abandoned nursery chair.

“i’ll go get wooyoung really quick, you stay right here, ok?” you tell kyungmin, and he nods solemnly, playing his part through till the end. you head around the corner and slow down, peeking past doorways to see if you can spot your target. you finally find him, and lightly knock on the open door. wooyoung immediately catches your eye and you motion for him to come with you, and he’s on his feet in seconds.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, worry evident in his voice. “did he get hurt? is he sick? oh i hope he’s not throwing up, i couldn’t handle that right now-”

his rambling is cut short by the sight in front of him, his brother happily swinging his legs and sipping a sprite with brownie crumbs around his mouth. wooyoung looks at him and back to you, mouth unsure what to ask first.

“we thought you could use a break,” you say with a shrug. “plus today was meatball day and i remember those are your favorite.”

��i could kiss you right now,” wooyoung says, and kyungmin’s little “do it!” in the background makes you both laugh. you make a gagging noise and ignore the way wooyoung is looking at you to continue explaining what snacks you brought, mostly so you can tell him explicitly which are his and which are just for you. kyungmin also fills him in on the whole plan, and wooyoung looks on with a smile as his brother gets excited to let him in on the secret.

“yeah how’s that tummy doing now, min?” you ask once he’s done explaining everything. “we might need to head back.”

“no,” he whines. “a few more minutes?”

“just a couple,” you sigh, and wooyoung laughs. “what was that for?”

“he’s got you wrapped around his finger, you know,” he says matter of factly.

“no,” you scoff. “he’s a kid, i have the power here.”

“oh so you’re telling me you didn’t just cave at him whining once? and he didn’t convince you to come do this for me?”

“no he didn’t, actually.”

“what?”

“it was my idea,” you tell him. “you looked miserable last time i saw you so i wanted to do something nice. y’know, since you bought my lunch yesterday.”

“hm, sure, sure,” wooyoung nods. “kyungmin still has you in his pocket. he could ask you to bring him the moon and you’d do it.”

“wouldn’t you?” you say with a laugh.

“depends on who’s asking.”

“ok, we can go back now,” kyungmin says with finality, like he’s the one that makes decisions around here. which apparently he does, because you stand as soon as he says that. wooyoung catches your eye and he quirks an eyebrow, but you shut him up quickly.

“i was about to say the same thing!” you explain. “he and i are just on the same wavelength. we get each other. he’s my partner in crime.”

“crime is bad, y/n,” kyungmin pipes in.

“yeah, crime is bad, y/n,” wooyoung parrots, and you stick your tongue out at him. “but thanks for breaking the rules for me. i really needed this break.”

“anytime friend,” you tell him, grabbing your trash and beckoning kyungmin to follow you.

later that same day, you and wooyoung find yourselves being volun-told to stay longer and help prepare one of the big group activities for tomorrow, and this is another one of those rare moments nowadays where kyungmin isn’t there to wingman himself into the situation or act as a distraction if things get awkward. he’s spending the night with the oldest jung brother, and he seemed so excited about it that you could tell wooyoung was a little jealous. dare you say it was...cute? no, snap out of it. back to work.

you and wooyoung aren’t the only volunteers staying longer today, but you’re probably the only ones under the age of thirty so you’re sticking close together. because of your young, spry state, they’ve given the two of you the job of laying tape down on the gym floor because you can “get up and down faster than us” so currently you’re secluded in the corner with wooyoung as he opens a new roll of neon colored duct tape.

“so did your day get any easier?” you ask while wooyoung focuses on finding the start of the new roll.

“yeah,” he says, tongue between his teeth and concentration clear on his face. “gimme a second though. no distractions.”

“didn’t know i distracted you.”

he wants to say that you do more than distract him, but he literally bites his tongue to stop himself. instead he lets out an “aha!” and pulls the tape out before handing it to you. you bend down and add it to the mess on the floor, hoping you’re doing this the way the children’s minister explained.

“so my day. yeah, it got better,” wooyoung starts again as he watches you work. “i don’t know what happened while i was with you guys, but it’s like everyone’s attitude in my group just...disappeared.”

“weird,” you say, and wooyoung hums in agreement. “maybe they just needed a break from you as much as you needed a break from them.”

“hey, i’m a lotta fun, y/n,” wooyoung says sternly, finger pointed at you accusingly. “those kids love me.”

“not as much as mine love me though,” you say with a fake pout. “did you see my bestie started crying when her mom said they had to go? she didn’t want to leave her favorite leader.”

“since when is this a competition?” wooyoung laughs. “i’m sure your kids like you enough.”

“oh come on, you used to make everything a competition when we were kids,” you remind him. “we couldn’t even walk down the hallway without you asking me if i wanted to race.”

“that’s because i wanted to show off how fast i was.”

“too bad i never caved and saw it then.”

“we could race tomorrow with our kids,” wooyoung offers, and you laugh.

“yeah, and then neither of us would have an easy day. encouraging these kids to race each other indoors would be asking for trouble.”

“i think it’d be fun,” wooyoung says with a mischievous smile. “i say we just have one day where the kids need to figure it out on their own, lord of the rings style.”

“you mean lord of the flies, you dork?”

“whatever. i didn’t read either of them.”

“of course not.”

“hey, you messed that one up,” wooyoung points out, and you sigh. you move from a crouch to sit completely on the floor, and you start picking away at the strip of tape that doesn’t want to come off the floor.

“can you help me?” you whine, and wooyoung is down at your level in a heartbeat. he joins you in picking at the sides, hoping that you can get enough up to get a grip and yank it all in one go. there’s an unusual moment of silence as you work, but wooyoung has to break it.

“so,” he begins. “i think you being nice to me today proves that you don’t hate me anymore.”

“it may seem that way, yes,” you agree with a nod. “but i’m not all the way there yet.”

“and what’s stopping you?”

“i don’t know,” you sigh. “i guess i just have one more question about the whole thing, and then i’ll be okay.”

“shoot.”

“who was the other girl?”

what?

“huh?” wooyoung asks, so shocked by the question that he pulls the tape up on accident.

“hey, nice,” you grin, pulling at the last couple pieces. “didn’t expect that to shock you so much.”

“why? what do you mean?” he asks incredulously. “the other girl when?”

“the other girl you told my friend you liked all along,” you say. “the one you wouldn’t date her because of?”

“oh, that, right, um. well, i don’t know,” he rambles. “it was just-”

“if you don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine,” you shrug. “i can just keep not liking you until you tell me.”

“hey, at least you’re not saying hate anymore,” he points out.

“baby steps,” you tell him. “who knows, maybe one day i’ll get back to saying the big one.”

“that you like me? how very elementary of you, y/n.”

“no, the real big one. the love word. we loved each other when we were kids, right? we were close enough that we would say that to each other.”

“oh, haha, right,” wooyoung laughs. “probably didn’t know what it meant but yeah, i bet we did.”

little do you know, but wooyoung could still say it now and mean it more than he ever did before.

you kept talking to wooyoung as you worked, and after a while you finished taping up the gym floor. you started warming back up to wooyoung the more time you spent with him, and you forgot how bright his personality is. spending time with him is like sitting outside in the sun, you could do it all day and you definitely feel a difference when you’re done.

making small talk, wooyoung asked what you had planned for when you got home, and you told him all about the exciting world of online grad school. he didn’t even know you were taking classes. so he’s shocked to hear that you’re doing that on top of volunteering and work.

that being said, wooyoung knows you had a late night yesterday. and he knows you’re probably going to be super tired today, and since his older brother is dropping kyungmin off this morning, that means wooyoung has a little extra time to himself. he decides to use it wisely, and sets out early enough to get himself a little treat while he’s at it.

when you come into the church that day, you are exhausted. staying later yesterday meant you had less time to decompress after being around the kids, so you really had to jump right into coursework and it kept you up for a while. you’re mid yawn when you notice wooyoung standing with your other leader and the one kid that always seems to get there super early. it’s not out of the ordinary to see wooyoung mingling, but it’s what’s in his hands that has you confused.

“hey,” you call out, and he turns around with a sunny smile. “whatcha got?”

“breakfast,” he says proudly. “for me, you, and kyungmin.”

“none for your older brother?”

“nah, he’s a big boy, he can get it himself,” wooyoung scoffs. “here, sit.”

you do as he says and sit down, noticing wooyoung doesn’t just have a tray of drinks but there’s a bag of food, too. he hands you a drink that you hesitate to sip, still waking up honestly, and unsure of whether or not you can accept this kindness so early and so unwarranted.

“i couldn’t remember what kind of donuts you like, or if you even like donuts at all, so there’s a couple different ones plus a bagel and cream cheese in there,” wooyoung says, opening the bag and peeking in. “you can take what you want and me and min will have the rest, we can eat anything.”

“thank you,” you say meekly as he goes on.

“and then i got you coffee because you said you had an assignment due last night,” he begins, handing you the warm cardboard cup. “but i only got one because i remembered what you like.”

“latte with oatmilk?” you ask with a smile, and wooyoung nods.

“made them add some cinnamon too, you like that right?”

“love it,” you confirm before taking your first sip, and you sigh at the warmth it brings you. you glance over at wooyoung and he’s just smiling back at you. “thank you, really. this was too nice.”

“thought we could all use a little treat,” wooyoung says, brushing it off like he didn’t just make your entire day better with this gesture. “besides, you need your energy for our race later.”

“very funny.”

“i mean it, my kids are ready-”

“wooyoung! y/n!” a little voice shouts, and you share a look because you know who it belongs to. you wait while wooyoung grabs his little brother up and brings him over to you, waving goodbye to the oldest as he stands by the door to make sure kyungmin found the right people.

“welcome back best buddy,” you tell him, patting the seat next to you. “big bro got you a present.”

“a new car?”

“what? no, you don’t need a car,” wooyoung says sternly. “i got you breakfast.”

as wooyoung explains what he got for kyungmin, you take a moment to appreciate the man in front of you. you’ve always known wooyoung was caring and thoughtful, but you let a little scuffle take away all the good things you used to feel for him, and that’s not fair. you find yourself admiring him for too long, actually, noticing not just how sweet he is with his little brother, but also noticing how handsome his side profile is. wooyoung catches you off guard with a question, and when you ask him to repeat it there’s a blush on his cheeks. he knew what you were doing, but you don’t know that you just got caught.

“i asked how the donut was,” wooyoung repeats himself, and you assure him it was delicious. you watch as he splits one with his brother before heading over to his group area, but not without a final look in your direction and maybe a wink too, just to keep things fun.

you don’t know where this change has come from exactly, but you find yourself daydreaming about wooyoung all morning. your mind might just be clouded by the bribery in the form of the perfect coffee, but you’ve had plenty of time to think back on how sweet wooyoung has been to you all these years. you’re in the middle of the bible story session when it hits you: wooyoung has liked you all along. like, the big one liked you. like, you were probably the girl he rejected your friend for liked you. how could you not know this? he was so obvious. sure he was shy about it, but that doesn’t mean he was slick. the signs were there, you just didn’t notice them until now.

you’re also noticing just how..thrilled? excited? the thought of wooyoung liking you is making you feel. it might have taken all this time for you to admit, but you had a crush on him when you were kids, you just tried to make it go away once you both started getting involved with your friends at school. those childlike feelings are back now, butterflies flapping around in your guts as you make eye contact with wooyoung during a transition. he smiles at you like always, but you panic and look away. that’s not un-normal for you, but it does have wooyoung thinking for a minute that you may not be as warmed up to him as he thought. and you simply can’t have that.

during the next session, you find some time to slip away to the restroom and set up a game plan for yourself. how could you tell wooyoung you know he likes you? how do you tell him you think you might like him too?

all of this is swirling around your head when you crash straight on into a strong chest that steadies you immediately. wooyoung’s signature giggle lets you know your target is closer than you thought, and you look up at him innocently as he looks down with a smile in return.

“hi,” he says simply.

“hi,” you respond, and there’s a beat of silence while you process how close you are and the fact that wooyoung hasn’t let go of you yet. you look up at him and glance down at his lips, deciding in the moment this is what you need to do. you peck him quickly, just to see if you could, and when he looks at you with those big, surprised eyes of his, you lean back in and do it again, but this time you mean it. when you pull away the second time you detangle yourself from wooyoung as he’s left blabbering about what just happened. you give him a quick “bye!” in response, and then you’re gone.

after you kissed wooyoung, you half expected him to tell kyungmin since he’s been so involved in your friendship lately. but the little guy doesn’t say anything or act differently the last two days of vbs, so that’s good. wooyoung does, however. suddenly he’s not bothering you as much. in fact, he’s not bothering you at all, and that’s incredibly out of character. you realize the last two days are going by so slowly because you don’t have wooyoung breaking up the day by asking you a stupid question or blatantly flirting with you, and you miss it. the first day post kiss he was almost business like dropping kyungmin off and picking him up, and that was really weird. the last day was a little better, he at least joked with you this morning, but nothing since. you’re wondering how you can get a chance to talk to him before the day is over, but then you remember you have snack at the same time today. so that means you’ can ambush him on your way to the snack room in hopes that he’ll at least acknowledge you exist again.

when it nears the end of the day and you’re dropping your kids off at their snack area, you step to the side and wait in the hallway so you can see wooyoung coming. when you hear his boisterous voice coming closer, you act like you’re looking for something in the bag they give to each leader, and when wooyoung rounds the corner you look up and stop him.

“hey! do you have any extra bandaids?” you ask him. “i’ve got a kid with a paper cut and i’m fresh out.”

“uh, lemme check,” he says, patting his pockets quickly.

“you don’t have the bag?”

“if we were paired together, would you trust me to keep track of the bag all week?”

“valid point,” you reply. “so i’m guessing you don’t have one?”

“nope, i do,” he says, pulling the ziploc of bandages out of his back pocket. “just one?”

“yeah, i just need it to shut the kid up until his dad comes to get him,” you explain.

“he’s a whiner?” wooyoung asks, and you nod. he hands you the bag and you dip back into the snack room to find the kid (you really did need a bandaid) and you’re back outside in seconds. wooyoung is waiting for you, hands in his pockets and a sheepish smile on his face.

“thanks,” you say, handing him the bag as you start the walk to the volunteer snack room.

“sure,” he says, and you fall into an awkward silence. it’s not a long walk to the snack room, and you want to get something out of him before there’s a bunch of people around so you stop abruptly and wooyoung follows suit.

“sorry, but i have to ask,” you start. “did i kiss you wrong? i mean, wait, sorry. was me kissing you wrong? should i not have done that? because now you’re acting all weird.”

“so you noticed something was up?” wooyoung asks shyly. “sorry about that.”

“it’s ok,” you tell him. “just give me a clue as to whether or not i just messed up by doing that.”

“no, it was good,” he assures you. “very good. nice. it was nice. i liked it.”

“ok, good.”

“i’d like to do it again.”

“right now?” you ask. “the kids could see us, and you know we’d never live that down.”

“no, not now,” he laughs. “but later. eventually. if you want to.”

“definitely,” you nod. “but not at church?”

“not at church,” he confirms. “the lord is watching.”

“that’s pervy of him,” you say, making wooyoung let out an elmo pitched laugh. the sound lights you up, like the sun is shining just on you for that moment. you want to make him laugh a million more times just like that.

“remind me why i like you again?”

at the end of the day, kyungmin begs you to get lunch with him and wooyoung again. he’s sad that after today he’ll go back to not seeing you every day, but you assure him you’ll be around, sending a wink up to wooyoung as you say so.

“actually, i think i’m supposed to babysit you one day this weekend,” you tell kyungmin, and his face lights up.

“really?!”

“yeah, really. your mom asked me about it last night,” you say, and wooyoung looks confused but you don’t notice because kyungmin is literally jumping with glee.

“i can show you all my TOYS and we can watch my favorite MOVIE and can we get pizza? mom lets me get pizza when there’s a babysitter, i swear!”

“calm down, buckoo, we’ll see what happens,” you laugh. “but i’ll see you soon, i promise.”

“ok!” kyungmin shouts happily, and he runs off to say goodbye to his friends, leaving you with wooyoung.

“who knew my little brother would take you from me the weekend i wanted to ask you out,” he says with a smirk, pulling you in for a proper church side hug. he places his lips to your forehead ever so lightly as he whispers, “guess i’ll have to tell you about my undying love for you another time.”

and then he pulls away, waving over his shoulder as he walks off to find his brother. you’re left sputtering, much like wooyoung was the other day after you kissed him, and you have to reset before you remember how to act like a human again.

it doesn’t feel like long before saturday night comes around and you find yourself heading to the jung residence. vbs wore you out so bad that you cancelled plans with friends last night so you could just sleep the week off, and you barely feel rested enough to be around kyungmin for a few hours now, even if he is one of your favorite people.

it’s been ages since you’ve been to their house, too, so it feels a little weird walking up the path to their front door. it seems oddly quiet, but you pay no mind as you reach for the doorbell and...wooyoung? answers the door.

“what?” you ask, surprised. “sorry, where’s your mom? she said you were all going to a wedding tonight and...” you trail off, thinking back to what ms. jung really said. “the wedding is next weekend, isn’t it?”

“no, really?” wooyoung asks in fake shock. “that would explain why my family went to the beach for the weekend.”

“really?” you ask, and wooyoung nods. “why didn’t you go?”

“i wanted to see your face when you realized you had the weekends wrong.”

“no, seriously,” you laugh as you push his arm, and he shrugs.

“i needed to rest, honestly,” he says. “and spending most of the weekend in the car with my family is not my idea of rest. laying in my bed for 12 hours straight is, however.”

“that sounds nice,” you say wistfully, thinking about how warm your bed was before you had to leave to come here.

“it is,” wooyoung agrees. “wanna try it for yourself?”

“are you inviting me up to your room, jung wooyoung?” you ask in disbelief, and wooyoung simply quirks an eyebrow before disappearing into the house, giving you no choice but to follow him and close the door behind you.

the last time you were here, kyungmin was much younger, and wooyoung was still off at school, so his room was converted into min’s vacation home. seeing it in wooyoung’s style was a stark difference, but it made you smile to see this detail of his life. you note the movie posters plastered on the wall, laughing at the childish posters they’re obviously covering up.

“was that your toy story poster or kyungmin’s?” you tease.

“hey, that was a great franchise,” he scolds, finger pointing at you and hand on hip accordingly. “stop standing there so awkward, come inside.”

“sorry,” you laugh nervously. “what should we do?”

“wanna watch a movie?”

“how bout toy story?”

“okay, never mind, you can leave,” wooyoung says as he pushes you toward the door, and you push back. you both lose your footing, and you tumble into his chest, but thankfully wooyoung catches you. you brace yourself on his chest and look up at him with a smile.

“hi.”

“hi,” he smiles back. “deja vu.”

“yeah,” you laugh, holding his gaze for a moment before glancing down to his mouth. this time though, wooyoung makes the first move, cupping your cheek and bringing your lips to his. it’s tentative at first, but the more you lean into it the more you enjoy it. you catch wooyoung smiling into the kiss before you pull back to take a breath. you share a look with wooyoung before you both dive back in, this kiss different from the others. this one is hungry, wooyoung’s gripping your face with both hands, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t keep you right here in his grasp. he licks at your lip, and you let him in, moaning softly when his tongue explores your mouth. you pull back briefly and ask, “still wanna watch that movie?”

“hell no,” he growls into your mouth, and then he separates from you for a moment, staring deep into your eyes. “let me make love to you.”

“wooyoung, i-”

“please,” he begs. “i’ve loved you for so long i don’t think i could put it into words. let me show you how i feel. please.”

“ok,” you nod, pecking his lips sweetly before connecting your forehead to his. “but when you’re ready i’d really like to hear about this whole you loving me thing. i’ll do my best to explain me loving you, too.”

“it’s a date,” he says with a smile that reaches his eyes, and it’s like the warmth radiating from that smile transfers to you through every spot where your bodies are connected. wooyoung is your little piece of sunshine here on earth, and he’s about to show you why you should never let him go.

he starts with a tender kiss, cupping the back of your head to angle you just right so he can pick up where he left off. his other hand slides down your arm and settles on your waist, giving it a squeeze before backing you up to his bed. the back of your knees hit the mattress and he helps you lay down gently, asking you to crawl up the bed while he takes off his shirt. when he settles above you, your hands graze his abdomen and he giggles as he leans in for another kiss.

“tickles,” he whispers, and you pull your hands from his waist to wrap around his neck as you deepen the kiss. wooyoung’s hands slide under your shirt, tracing lines over your hips and you gasp when they travel further and trace lines over your stomach. wooyoung pulls back to tug at your shirt and you nod, helping him slide it off your arms. he helps you out of your bra next, gluing his eyes to your chest and how delicate you look beneath him.

“i’m up here,” you tease, and wooyoung tears his eyes from your tits for a second to roll his eyes at you.

“yeah, but i’ve seen your face like a million times,” he scoffs. “let me look at your boobs a little bit more.”

“how romantic.”

“shut up,” he mumbles into your chest, kissing from your collarbone and further down. he stops to place a kiss around each breast, sucking on your nipples to get them hard before he continues down. he’s kissing across your stomach and you hope he can’t feel the butterflies in there threatening to break out. he keeps going, and you know where he’s going to end up. after placing a final kiss under your belly button, he looks up at you and you tell him to keep going. he’s barely done anything and you’re already breathless. he kisses along the waistband of your panties, and instead of taking them off like you expected, he continues down to place kisses over your covered core, drawing out whimpers from you the more he focuses on your pussy without making actual contact.

“wooyoung don’t tease,” you whine, and he shakes his head.

“nope, gotta take it slow or it won’t be right,” he tells you. he places one more kiss on your clothed clit before pulling your panties to the side. he ghosts his finger over your folds before rubbing lightly at your clit, and you gasp at the contact. he lets his hand go further, finding your entrance where he collects some of your arousal before finding your clit again. he looks up as you let out another breathless gasp and asks, “you doin okay up there?”

“mhm,” you squeak out. “want more though.”

“greedy baby,” he smirks, replacing his hand with his lips as he kisses at your nub. his hand trails back down and strokes into you softly, and your hips keen at the feeling. he pumps his finger a few times before adding another, mumbling against your pussy that you’re doing so well. he starts curling his fingers inside you, tearing a moan from deep within your chest. you realize you’re closer than you’d like to admit, because you don’t want him to stop. at the same time, you think you might die if wooyoung doesn’t make you come soon.

“faster please,” you whine, bucking your hips again to get a little more friction. wooyoung takes the hint and picks up the pace, pumping into you faster and lapping at your clit in a way that has your legs shaking. he keeps going, and just when you’re about to warn him of your release he adds a third finger, stretching you so well that you come with a silent scream, his name squeaking out at the end as he watches in awe.

“you’re beautiful,” he whispers, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you come down.

“come up here and say that to my face,” you challenge him, and he wastes no time climbing back up the bed and trapping your lips in another kiss. you moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, his tongue venturing past your lips in a heated kiss. he pulls away for a moment to whisper again.

“you’re beautiful,” he says, holding eye contact with you long enough for you to get shy from the attention. it’s like he’s looking straight into your soul and you’re a little afraid of what he might find in there.

“what happened to you making love to me?” you ask, breaking him out of his concentrated gaze. you watch as he snaps out of it in real time, and he gets up quickly to rid himself of his pants and his boxers. you didn’t notice how hard he was before now, but it must have been painful. his tip is so red, and the veins are so prominent that you catch yourself staring only to be interrupted by wooyoung’s own hand pumping himself a few times for relief. “hey, let me do that.”

“no, need to find a condom,” he says through gritted teeth. “need to be inside you like right now.”

“we don’t need one,” you tell him, and he stands completely still. his eyes find yours and he quirks an eyebrow.

“we don’t need one?”

“no,” you almost whine. “i’m clean. i trust you. i’ve got protection. please just have sex with me.”

“i love you so much,” wooyoung says in one breath, basically pouncing back on top of you to reconnect your lips. he mumbles in between rushed kisses “i’m clean too, by the way,” and you just nod and urge him to get to it.

you both watch as wooyoung pulls back and guides his tip to your core, rubbing against your clit so deliciously it has you moaning pathetically, begging him to fuck you already. he slides between your lips a few times before guiding himself to your dripping entrance, and he slides in with ease. he bottoms out completely before letting out a moan of his own, and he stills for a moment so you can adjust. you take a moment and nod, reaching down to squeeze his hip to let him know he can continue. he pulls back with a shaky breath and bottoms out once again, trying his best to hit your innermost wall with each thrust, it seems. he’s so deep, and he settles so that he’s holding himself above you in the perfect position to connect with your g-spot every time he pumps in. he spends plenty of time thrusting all the way in and pulling out as much as he can, but you’re clenching around him so well there’s no way he’s going to last. he pumps in one more time before he stills, making sure to take deep breaths to calm himself down.

“are you okay?” you ask, worried at his sudden change. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong baby,” he assures you. “you’re just so warm. and tight. don’t think i can take it much longer.”

“come whenever you’re ready,” you tell him. “i wanna feel you.”

“you’re literally perfect, did you know that?” he asks before ducking down to bury his head in your neck. he lazily kisses at your skin as he fucks back into you, his thrusts a little shorter and sloppier but still perfect. you wrap a leg around his waist to keep him from going too far, and you grab for one of his hands to reconnect with your clit as you warn him that you’re close.

“i’m almost there,” you gasp, hips rising to chase every touch. “wanna come with you.”

“okay, shit. warn me before you do, i’ll pull out-”

“no.”

“no?”

“i said i wanna feel you,” you say sternly, pulling his chin up to look in his eyes. “give me everything you’ve got baby.”

“really?” he asks, hips picking up speed again until he’s fucking you so fast that you’re practically bouncing on his cock. “that’s so hot, y/n. gonna give you everything. gonna start a family with you one day, gonna come, fuck-”

“wooyoung, i’m coming,” you whine as he picks up speed rubbing your clit and his hips give you one final thrust that sends you over the edge. it feels like every ounce of you is on fire, and the warmth radiating off wooyoung and shooting into your core heightens your senses so you feel everything ten times more. wooyoung pumps into you slowly, riding out the end of his release. he’s pushing his come back into you as it falls out, and he groans at the sight, getting turned on again.

“how soon can you do that again?” he asks sheepishly, and you shake your head. he falls to your side as he waits for your response.

“gimme a few,” you reply. “you took my breath away.”

“okay,” he says, propping his head up on your shoulder. “i’ll be here.”

you lay still for a moment, eyes closed and focused on regulating your breathing. it’s in this silence that something wooyoung says passes through your mind again, and you decide you should address it now.

“wooyoung?”

“yeah?”

“did you say you wanna make a family with me?”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“i didn’t think you’d remember that,” he says shyly, and you laugh at the blush gracing his cheeks.

“it just happened!” you shriek. “what, you thought your dick was so good i’d completely block out what you were saying?”

“a little?”

“so obviously you’ve thought about this a lot,” you say, getting back on topic. “about us?”

“yep.”

“and what will our kids be named?”

“i dunno.”

“yes you do,” you insist, rolling onto your side to look at him directly. “tell me.”

“later,” he says, pecking your lips sweetly. “i think there was mention of a round two?”

due to no fault of your own, you ended up spending the night at wooyoung’s house. you were honestly so tired you didn’t want to leave anyway, so when he offered to make you breakfast in the morning you couldn’t pass it up.

spending the night also gave you a chance to be intimate with wooyoung in another way. after the promised second round (and maybe a third in the shower) he helped you get ready for bed, offering up his comfiest clothes and insisting on helping you get dressed and into bed. he wrapped you up in the covers just to mess them up as he wormed his way under the blankets right next to you, immediately wrapping himself around you and burying his head in your chest. you absentmindedly played with his hair as you talked quietly, and the topic of feelings came up again.

you already knew how wooyoung felt, so it was really your turn to grab the mic, but wooyoung being ever the gentleman assured you he didn’t need a love confession just because you had slept together. he was okay with waiting for you to process as long as you’d agree to be with him while that happened.

you easily fell asleep, tired and at peace in wooyoung’s arms, but when you woke up the next day to an empty bed you panicked. almost as if he knew you were awake, wooyoung poked his head into the room a few minutes later and reminded you of the meal he promised you, asking how you wanted your coffee. he scoffed when you didn’t say cold and straight black (like him) but he still took extra care to make it just right for you. it takes you another minute to get the will to get out of bed, but when you make it downstairs to the kitchen you’re left speechless.

“you did all this for me?” you ask quietly, noticing the pancakes, eggs, sausage and the assortment of cereal boxes wooyoung laid out in case you wanted something really sweet. there was a bowl of fresh strawberries, your carefully crafted coffee, and a beautiful vase of flowers too.

“i was hungry too,” wooyoung shrugs. “so i thought i’d do it right.”

“you’re so concerned with doing things right around me,” you start, “you know you don’t need to do all of this to impress me.”

“but i want to,” he pouts. “i’m tinkerbell, i live off of attention.”

“that explains so much.”

“just shut up and eat.”

you do just that, forgetting that wooyoung is probably one of the best cooks you know. maybe he is tinkerbell because he did something magic to those pancakes.

“what did you put in these to make them so good?” you ask, pointing to your plate.

“love,” he replies with a dreamy sigh and you laugh, but wooyoung was being serious.

“oh come on, tell me,” you whine. “cinnamon? vanilla?”

“not everyone knows this but love is in fact cinnamon flavored,” wooyoung says matter of factly.

“you’re annoying.”

“you like it though, admit it!” he says, pushing your shoulder. “you wouldn’t have been my friend for so long if i annoyed you that bad, and you definitely wouldn’t be dating me if i annoyed you so much.”

“wait, so are we dating?” you ask, and he nods in confirmation. “we haven’t had a real date though.”

“um? i took you to mcdonald’s.”

“yeah, with your little brother,” you laugh. “that’s not a real date. that’s like a trial run.”

“for when we have kids.”

“sure, but that’s not a real date,” you say again. “you need to plan something.”

“why do i need to plan it?!”

“because i kissed you first, so it’s your move, jung.”

“that doesn’t make sense.”

“too bad,” you say as you pop a strawberry in your mouth. “think of something good, my little chef.”

wooyoung falls silent as he thinks about what he could plan, and this gives you a chance to look at the clock.

“oh shit, i need to go home,” you say quickly. “i have to meet my friends for lunch.”

“and leave me here all alone?” wooyoung pouts, and you kiss him to make it go away.

“yep, sorry sweets. it’ll give you more time to plan the perfect date,” you say with a wink as you head to the stairs to grab your things from wooyoung’s room.

“hey!” wooyoung calls out as you’re collecting your clothes (but conveniently keeping the hoodie he let you borrow). wooyoung appears at the door and leans against the frame as he continues. “you know what i just thought about?”

“hm?”

“kyungmin is gonna be so thrilled we’re finally together,” he says, and you smile.

“he sure put in work to get us here, didn’t he?”

“yeah, that little rascal,” wooyoung shakes his head. you stop, making sure you have everything before you walk to the door and put your hand on wooyoung’s cheek. he leans into your touch and you smile, giving him one last kiss.

“i’ll see you later?” you ask, and he nods.

“can we do what we did here but at your place?” wooyoung asks hopefully, and you pretend to think about it.

“if you tell me what you put in the pancakes, then yes.”

“it was brown sugar,” he says quickly, pulling you closer to him by your hips. “so i’ll see you tonight?”

“sure,” you laugh, kissing him one last time. “see you later, love.”

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez imagine #ateez one shot #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung fluff #wooyoung fic #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung x reader

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rtfics · 9 days

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Seeing BJ2 the 3rd time.

LONG & FILLED WITH SPOILERS

SO much to think about, and my memory is shit.

I rapidly scribbled notes during the film. But when I got home and tried to read them:

So here's an overview. I'll post other details if I ever translate my notes.

First, the casting was perfection. I'd never seen Jenny Ortega, Justin Theroux, and Monica Bellucci before, so for me they were the characters.

It was interesting that the film opens with the Warner Brothers Studio lot in black & white. Why B&W? It sort of sets the tone.

Donna Summer singing lines from "MacArthur's Park" was a foreshadowing. This film was made by a guy who was a teen in the 70s, and it's for others his age (he's only 2 years older than me). BJ2 is packed with 70s nostalgia that only those who were alive then would get.

This sequel was also made for die-hard fans of the original Beetlejuice. Burton took special care to give us the Winter River we love, but updated it to show the story and its characters aren't stuck in the past. The covered bridge is there, the church, cemetery, Miss Shannon's, and fire station are there, and so is the Maitland's building, but it's a coffee shop now.

Seeing Lydia as shell-shocked and pill-popping threw me, but the plot gave it sense (I'll go into detail in a separate post).

Rory, OMFG, I've known Rory. Anyone who's had anything to do with the entertainment/media biz, even peripherally, knows Rory. His "enabler" bullshit was so spot-on; faking that he's going to get Lydia off her dependency on drugs while keeping her hooked by making it seem that he's doing it because she's begging him. Classic user methodology. You just know he's the one who got her on "coping" pills in the first place; all the better to manipulate her. I loathed him immediately.

I adore what they did with Delia. It completely fucking made sense, and followed what's happened in the modern NYC Arts scene. I love how she and Lydia now get along, I mean, shit, Lydia's in her 50s and Delia's in her 70s, they're both middle-aged women, and, bless their hearts, the screenwriters and Burton made them act like grown women.

Astrid seemed older than 16 to me, but hey, I'm not around teenagers these days. I appreciated that she wasn't a brat. Her resentment and having her back up were appropriate for her family situation; a beloved father whose body was never found (I think); a mom always working or promoting because of Rory, doped on pills and famous for being a ghost-seeing nutjob, who can't see Astrid's father. That's a lot to deal with.

The way they handled Charles was perfect, especially his claymation demise. His afterlife body was comically gross, and an ingenious way of including Charles in the film without having to recast another actor, except for his voice. Charles being in the Netherworld provides a great thread to Delia's later death. His headstone being the shape of a shark's fin was a humorously grim touch.

The Sylvia Young Theatre School Choir sang at Charles' funeral, and their voices were beautiful.

Arthur Conti was fantastic as Jeremy (70s teens remember his grandfather, Scottish actor Tom Conti). His American accent was flawless. He was the perfect balance of cute and mature, and his niceness made his being evil all the worse; while Astrid says the incantation you can see him slightly out of focus behind her, smiling in a chilling way. I love that there isn't the slightest hint that he's a multiple murderer, and of his own parents! When he's about to get his passport stamped he shows absolutely no remorse toward Astrid, which makes his damnation all the sweeter.

Beetlejuice . . . . What can I say? Michael Keaton created Beetlejuice as we know him, and he fit right back in character as easily as drawing breath. His body language, his weird way of walking, his expressions, everything is just as you'd expect Beej to be. But then we get to see more! I can't express how happy I was to see Beej's origin story, which turned the throw-away line about having a pretty good time during the Black Death into something more substantial. Seeing Keaton as human Beej was a delight.

An important detail was that, even though Beej says his heart had long since withered, he fell for Delores. He says he was "bewitched." Perhaps not love, but lust certainly. It's quite clear that Delores was much higher in social station than Beetlejuice, so he must have thought he'd won the lottery with her choosing him. My god, his ego had no problem with his drunken ass being hauled to bed by his new wife, and his enthusiasm was huge. I love that they gave him the gut in his human form (Keaton doesn't have one).

Richard was the nice guy I hoped he would be. But it was telling that, when he says goodbye to Lydia at the ladder in the mausoleum, they don't hug. They don't even shake hands. It shows the truth of Lydia's previous statement to Astrid that she and Richard's relationship had ended long before his death.

Wolf is every 70s crime drama/movie distilled. Hammy, over the top, constantly spouting his Catch Phrase.

Why are there so many shrunken head guys? And why did Beej hire people who can't talk to answer his phones? It's loony and fits the Netherworld random login. They're Beej's Minions.

I've seen a lot of people on tumblr, as well as professional movie critics, say there were "too many villains" and that the plot was "too hard to follow."

For those who agree with this, I recommend you never attempt to read anything by Charles Dickens, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo, Edgar Allan Poe's detective stories, or Agatha Christie. Because your brains would fry.

Look, there are two villains. Just two.

Delores poisoned Beetlejuice, he killed her with an axe in revenge, in the Afterlife she reassembles and hunts him down, killing others in her wake, which sets Wolf Jackson and the Ghoul Squad after her, until she's defeated with a sandworm.

Rory has been manipulating Lydia, keeping her doped, gas-lighting her, until under the Truth Serum injected by Beej he spills the beans and Lydia rejects him, until he's eaten at the same time as Delores by the sandworm.

As for "Delores and Rory weren't given enough story," what more do you want? How Delores joined a soul-sucking cult? How Rory became a user, seeking out vulnerable, grieving women to exploit? We learn as much as we need to. Anything more would have stuffed the film with unnecessary crap.

The only shit I didn't care for was the baby.

The whole Counseling scene was a big gross-out, and I'm sure Tim Burton intended it that way. The original couldn't have been more gross than it was or it would have earned an R Rating, keeping out everyone under the age of 18 (21 in some states; this was the 80s). But now, Burton could be a lot more graphic. I was stunned that he had Lydia go through the "pregnancy," but it obviously didn't hurt her. For me Babyjuice has no point. It doesn't advance the plot, and its reappearance only drives home the weirdness of the ending.

What the ever fuck was the ending??

Especially Astrid giving birth to the Beetlebaby. It would suggest Beetlejuice is its father, which means he and Astrid had sex. Which we can be pretty sure they didn't . . ? In the counseling scene Beej refers to the baby as his "inner child." So its not his literal child? Even so, why would Astrid give birth to it the same way her mother did?

I've read all the theories about the ending, and at this point one's as good as the other. Perhaps that's the point: To keep us all guessing. Because I'm sure, all along, there's been a plan for Beetlejuice 3, IF this movie was a hit. If it wasn't, if it bombed (since 2010 all of Burton's films have bombed), the ending would lead to speculation forever, to people writing fucking dissertations about its symbology and metaphors, etc.

But if it was a hit, which it is, the seeds are there for a third and final film. But so fucking murky no one can guess what it'll be like.

The only part of the ending I liked was Beej shaking awake and saying, as he glances at Lydia, "I just had the weirdest dream." And Lydia looking over. Not terrified. Not screaming or leaping out of bed. Not seeing the indentation in the pillow and yelling in protest. Just staring.

Do I want a third film?

I love Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. I love it more every time I watch it. I accept everything in it as canon, even the baby, resentfully.

But Burton might fuck up the last one. He might do things I never wanted to be canon. When a sequel is made of a hit film, the creators sometimes become self-conscious. BJ2 wasn't, because it'd been 36 years since the original. They had no idea whether this version would fly. Since it has, massively, I'm afraid the screenwriters and Burton may become too aware of the audience and try to cater to it. OR they'll go the opposite direction and try to come up with a plot they think fans would never imagine.

So I'm pretty much stuck in the same place I was before I saw Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.

#Beetlejuice Beetlejuice #beetlejuice #Beetlejuice 2 #Beetlejuice sequel #Beetlejuice 2 review sort of #Michael Keaton #winona ryder #jenny ortega #catherine o'hara #justin theroux #monica bellucci #willem dafoe

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hitomisuzuya · 2 years

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Yandere! Scaramouche x fem!reader. College AU (by request of sorts from @that-one-gay-writer1227. They really said they really liked College AU Scara) Smut. Halloween themed. Chase in the woods. Obsessive behavior. Possessive!Scaramouche. Choking. Praise. Degradation. Outdoor sex at night. I think I covered it all.

Tagging @xxventiswindblumexx cause smut soulmate <3

When you asked him to go to the haunted attraction the campus set up every year for Halloween with you, he'd told you it was stupid. He asked you what the point was. You said the idea was to have fun and get scared. He'd been all set to shut you down and spend the night watching horror movies with you.

Until you said that Halloween was your favorite holiday.

Now Scaramouche couldn't say no.

So here he was, standing in line with you and one of your friends, who came with her boyfriend from the campus choir class. At least that was what you told him. He didn't expect the gaggle of geese that followed you around the equestrian facility to come along. Uninvited.

Scaramouche had a glare reserved for each one of them. They were intruding on his time with you. He even considered paying off the stupid brats so they would leave. Your friend and her boyfriend were going to leave you alone since this was a date for them too.

Putting arm around you, he pulled you against him, inhaling your scent. He'd taken great care in making sure your clothes smelt like him, unmistakable to anyone breathing near you. He sprayed your perfume on your clothes to, mingling the two scents together. You even smelt faintly of *sweet fresh hay.

Even making sure it smelt faintly like cigarettes, weed and leather. It was a further sign of possessive dominance.

All scents you loved and made you feel comfortable. Damn it, he really does love you.

It started off exactly like he knew he it would. People jumping out and trying to scaring everyone. Screaming people and shrill laughing. Scaramouche swore he thought his ears were going to bleed. Until he watched how you were acting.

You having fun, but not in the way everyone else was. No, you were having fun in a different way. A way that captivated him. And excited him.

Scaramouche watched you approach someone who was overacting. He thought he recognized from some classes or another but he couldn't be sure. He was dressed as the stereotypical chainsaw welding horror movie characters. It was easy to see where they got the inspiration for the costume, seeing as how he watched a few movies from the franchise with you. You were picky about your slasher movies. You preferred more supernatural horror than anything.

You calmly approached what's his name, smiling somewhat at him, completely unfazed by him being in character.

He loved that you seemed so fearless and unfazed. Of course, why would you be easily rattled? You navigated a very hateful creature who outweighed out by a thousand pounds at least around a course of jumps with more than five or six feet in height. He'd never seen anything like it before. Your posture always perfect and straight, your eyes focused ahead but around you at the same time, looking for anything that might disrupt you. The tedious multitasking almost seemed unreal to him everytime he watched. Watched more often than not with jealousy. Jealousy that you weren't riding him instead.

Scaramouche enjoyed seeing you act this way. But here is where it got unfortunate for the other boy. He knew no one was supposed to touch anyone during this. But Scaramouche still felt threatened. No one was allowed to touch you. Ever. Only he was allowed. Platonic hugs with your friends who were girls were the only thing acceptable to him.

So when Scaramouche felt that this poor unfortunate fellow got too close to you, his life flashed before his eyes. He couldn't decide who scared him more. Not only was he unnerved by your reaction to him, but Scaramouche was staring into his eyes with a look that he had never seen before.

One that made his blood run cold. It was a dark, possessive look, one with cold rationality. It said if you even think about touching what's mine, I will end you.

Scaramouche put his hands on your shoulders to further push his point. Mine. Not yours. All mine.

He suddenly felt an interesting reaction that quivered through your body. He felt it vibrate against his fingers like electricity. Scaramouche had startled you. And you smiled, like you were aroused.

He had to be sure. Scaramouche could read your body like a book. But he wanted to test his theory. His fingers itched to. He waited for you to relax and continue passing everyone trying to scare you by, giving them a wave or reminding some of them that a paper was due in a few days. There was that disgusting consideration for other people showing again. Why were you like that? He didn't understand.

Scaramouche capitalized on your letting your guard down when you came to a room with a wooden owl on the table. "Aww, look at the cute owl!" The girl jumped out from under the table. You screamed, blushing embarrassed but you were only startled.

Not scared.

"Boo," he whispered in your ear, suddenly wrapping his arms around you. You jumped, giggling. Since it was dark, the air hanging cloudy from a fog machine and flashing lights, Scaramouche groped you discreetly, making you whimper. "You are getting off on me scaring you, aren't you," he whispered, his fingers brushing against one of your nipples for a moment before anyone noticed.

Why not wind you up more? Make you cave a little faster before he fucked you tonight.

Rinse and repeat until you reached the end of the of the maze in the woods. He scared you a little more each time. You were wet by the time you said goodnight to everyone and started to walk back to the dorms with him.

"You wanna try something that I think you'll like, and one I will enjoy?" He poised the question with anticipation.

"Oh? What do you have in mind?" You replied, feeling suspicious. Scaramouche had made it evident that he was only tolerating tonight because you enjoyed Halloween. So why wasn't he grumbling about how long it took or how stupid it had been?

"Let's have some fun. Why don't I chase my little kitten through the woods and catch you. I'm sure you know where this is headed, now get moving. I'm not giving you a headstart," laughing as he tried to grab your hair.

You giggled and yelped, darting around him and running into the woods.

"Here kitty, kitty, I'm coming for you. Your body looks extra soft today, pliable in my hands," Scaramouche called out when he saw you cut a hard left, looking over your shoulder for a moment to see how far behind you he was. Your heart was pounding. The more he called out to you into the night, saying he was getting closer made you feel even wetter. But you weren't going to make it easy for him.

And Scaramouche didn't want you to either. He wanted you to run fast. He knew you were fast. You had to be to deal with horses, especially thinking fast. Which is what you did.

You danced away from him with ease, making it feel impossible for him to reach you. And it turned him on. "Run, run, slut. My hands are going to wrap around your pretty throat when I catch you."

When you showed one second of fatigue, your ankle rolled out from under you, making you trip. You tried to scramble to your feet but you just weren't fast enough. Or maybe you wanted to be caught.

"Gotcha!" Scaramouche exclaimed, laughing as he grabbed your ankle, dragging you back down onto the ground. Pinning you down, he put a knee between your legs.

You mewled, your body immediately going limp underneath him. "Ha! You were always the best at submitting to me in every way," he rubbed his knee roughly between your legs, feeling your arousal dampening against your pants onto his knee. "I knew you were getting off on me scaring you. You are absolutely wet and no doubt throbbing for me."

Scaramouche pressed a thumb down on your windpipe, smirking when you struggled to moan as the air was cut off from your lungs gradually. He unbuttoned your pants and thrust two fingers inside of you. "You really are a slut for me! I don't have to prepare you. Your pussy is going to swallow my cock well, you are that wet."

You moaned, grinding desperately into his fingers. He held your legs open when you tried to close them around his arm for more friction. Your fingernails clawed at his arm, your body twitching from harsh stimulation.

Scaramouche took his thumb from your windpipe, his hand tearing your shirt and your bra as he did away with your pants and your panties. He shivered when he saw just how wet you were. Your slick was shining wet in the moonlight. He licked his lips.

"Go on, kitten! Tell them all who pleases you like this! And you'd better call me Master, slut. I own everything about you!" He glared down at you, his eyes hazy with a feral lust.

You cried out in pleasure when Scaramouche roughly thrust inside of you, snapping his hips to bottom out against your cervix. "Go on! Say it! Tell them who is fucking you dumb! Did I stutter, slut?!"

AH! AH! It's you, Master! It's you, Scaramouche!" You cried out, digging your fingernails into his back.

Grunting, he moaned huskily in your ear, his pace ruthless and rough. His fingers dug into your hips. Each thrust practically made you see stars. He kissed you roughly, growling as he licked inside of your mouth, curling his tongue around yours.

Scaramouche grinded his teeth harshly against your lower lip as he reluctantly pulled away. Panting, he squeezed your throat, making your body jolt with with pleasure.

His thrusts remained frenzied, but they turned sloppy the more your walls clamped around his cock. The more he squeezed the tighter you felt. Hissing in pain, he pried one of your hands from his back. He put it against your clit. "Rub yourself while I cum inside of you," he ordered, his eyes transfixed on his cock sliding in and out of your cunt, your fingers circling your clit desperately trying to chase the high you felt building up in your core.

"Fuck, I am cumming.." Scaramouche babbled, releasing his hold on your throat. His cock twitched inside of you. You gasped when your felt his cum spill inside of you. The feeling of him cumming and rubbing your clit ushered in your orgasm.

Snatching your hand, he licked your fingers, fucking you through your orgasm. When he was satisfied, he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck. You stroked his hair to calm him down.

"You tore my shirt and broke my bra," you giggled, making him scoff against your neck as he nuzzled his cheek against your jaw.

"So what? You threw your jacket over there," he pointed in the direction where it lay a few feet away without picking his head up.. "I would've taken off your jacket myself. I don't want any assholes leering at what's mine. You belong to me, remember."

"Of course, dear. That fact will never change," you replied, rubbing your fingers against his scalp.

Scaramouche laughed softly, lifting your body so he hold you against him, his fingers stroking behind your ear. "Damn right it won't."

*fresh hay smells really good.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #suzu after dark

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usamifriends · 13 days

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IDOLiSH7 Anime vs Game Comparisons

First Beat - Episode 1

Banri & Tsumugi’s first interaction

Takanashi Productions was in charge of a few other talents before: models, dancers, choir. But i7 is their first boy idol group.

Banri calls the i7 boys as a Japanese multi-course bento (Kaiseki Bento). Tsumugi is confused in both the anime and game, but we don’t get an explanation for why he calls them this in the anime.

It’s actually Banri’s temporary group name 🤣 He says the it’s a name filled with the agency’s hopes and dreams!

Basketball Game

There’s more dialogue in the game that shows us more of their personalities and dynamics. But we’ll learn that eventually~

Sogo, Riku, Nagi team is disorganized. Nagi does what he wants. Riku gets distracted by Nagi. Sogo tries to keep things under control.

Tamaki, Mitsuki, Iori team is super competitive. Tamaki and Mitsuki says, “I hate losing!”, while Iori says, “My life has no room for defeat”.

Unlike in the anime, we actually see parts that show that they’re unfamiliar with each other. Mitsuki and Iori were taken aback at Tamaki’s nicknames. Sogo got a bit weirded out by Nagi’s monologues. They don’t feel like they’ve known each other for a long time like Tsumugi observed (probably bc she was watching from farther away).

Auditions! We get to see Tsumugi’s reactions to this in the game.

Iori is good at singing and dancing. He makes it look effortless!

Yamato is great at expressing things both in singing and dancing. It’s interesting because he’s always repressing his feelings.

Mitsuki has great energy. He brings life to the room.

Tamaki is great at dancing and is athletic.

Sogou is an all-rounder, ready for a professional debut.

Nagi has the elegance of a Prince but also a touch of sensuality to him. On top of that, he’s handsome! A girl’s ideal type.

Riku!! He stumbles on his introduction 😆 He’s really, really good at singing!!

The anime moves these comments to Tsumugi’s report to Takanashi papa. I like this change because we’re not just watching Tsumugi listen and watch the boys as they perform one by one.

When telling the boys about the audition results:

I like the little detail when Tsumugi goes, “Iori-kun… Iori-san.” Iori can be quite intimidating when you first meet him. Although he has a very sharp tongue, he doesn’t come off as some high school brat; he speaks really formally and is really serious about the task on hand, so it’s hard to treat him like a younger person. He has an aura that commands respect.

Side Story I

This side story is from Riku’s POV. We start from Riku walking over to Takanashi Productions to sign the contract. He was calling his mom! He tells him mom about how he won’t be like “that person” (Tenn) who abandoned his family. He calls Tenn “that person” because he doesn’t want to call him “Tenn-nii” anymore, but his mom points out how he called Tenn “Tenn-nii” just yesterday 😂😂 And then he just fully returns to calling Tenn, “Tenn-nii”. He also promised his mom that he will buy her something amazing once he gets famous 🥺❤️

Riku explains that he wants be an idol because he got curious about the job that convinced Tenn to abandon his family (Gon, is that you?)

We see Riku’s first impressions of the members. His interactions show more of his carefree, no sensor, shameless self (ily Riku), which is quite different to the good boy who works hard that we see from Tsumugi’s POV in Part 1, Ch. 1.

Riku -> Nagi: “Wow, this person has a beautiful face unlike any I’ve ever seen! Is he Japanese? …Maybe a foreigner? He face looks as pretty as a sculpture… He seems like a cool and elegant person. He must be a calm person.” (🤭). Riku says Nagi looks 25. Nagi replies that he’s nineteen in English. Riku didn’t understand but just assumed Nagi is younger than him. Iori was speechless. Mitsuki explains that nineteen = 19. Later, Riku introduces Nagi and the Izumi brothers to Sogou and Tamaki. He says the Izumi’s brothers ages normally in Japanese but chooses to use English to say nineteen for Nagi 😂😂 (He’s adorable)

Riku -> Izumi brothers: “Looks like a bright younger brother and a somewhat cold older brother. They’re probably both younger than me?” After making this assumption, he immediately treats them like younger people. He calls Iori “Iori-kun” and Mitsuki “Mitsuki-kun”. Iori immediately criticizes him, but Riku pays him no mind.🙂‍↕️😂 Mitsuki explains that he’s the older brother and that he’s probably older than Riku as he is 21. Riku…. Asks if that’s his shoe size. 😭😭😭😭😭 Mitsuki shouts, “That’s my age! And I’m not that small!!”. Riku is not bothered at all. He just goes “Oh ok!” Then, he POINTS HIS FINGER at Iori and asks, “Then what about this kid over here?” 😂 Iori says, “Don’t point your fingers at other people.” (Is this why they chose NOT to be in Riku’s team? 😂)

Riku -> Sogou: He looks like a nice person!

Riku -> Tamaki: This guy looks like a punk (punk with a cat ears hoodie? Rikuuuu 😂😂)

No first impression for Yamato :(

Side Story 2:

Most of this side story actually makes it into the anime! It’s the part with Sogou and Yamato buying drinks and the rest of the five’s reaction to the auditions.

We get to see a bit more in the game because we get to hear the boys’ thoughts. One of my favorite parts is seeing Iori’s more dangerous side 😌

He calls Takanashi papa a “smug, opportunistic old man”

And threatens to file a complaint, drag Takanashi Production’s reputation down, and drive Takanashi papa to bankruptcy if Mitsuki doesn’t make it in.

#idolish7 #First Beat #re experiencing i7

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ckret2 · 10 months

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Gideon as Stan stepson is hilarious.

Not only for the shenanigans, but the fact Stan cares 1000% about his family. Eventually he will care about Gideon, and have to deal with the mental shutdown of realizing he cares about him

You know what I don't even think he'd have a mental shutdown over it. He'd just gradually slide from "HE'S THE WORST AND I'M ONLY PUTTING UP WITH HIM FOR BUD'S SAKE, can't WAIT to ship 'im off to college and the feeling's mutual"

to "I mean what the kid really needs is a little discipline around the house to straighten him out, Bud's been too lax on him"

to "he's a brat but he's got his good points, I'll give him that"

to "yeeeah, the kid's a holy terror, but he's my holy terror, ya know?"

to "HEY, HEY, WHAT'D YOU SAY ABOUT GIDEON? MY BOY SINGS LIKE A CHERUB AND HE'S TWICE AS CUTE. Which off-key brat did YOU contribute to the school choir, come on, I'd like to see yours do better—!"

Stan's probably still fully convinced he doesn't like that kid even as he's stitching him a "GIDDY" fishing buddy hat.

Inevitably they'll have some big emotional argument that culminates in "Stan Pines, don't you forget who you're messing with! From now until the day you die, I am and shall always be your arch-nemesis!" "MAYBE YOU ARE my arch-nemesis... but you're ALSO... my SON." And then Gideon starts crying.

#anonymous #ask #grunkle stan #gideon gleeful #gravity falls

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gojoshooter · 1 year

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They say, all good boys go to heaven — Gojo Satoru

Pairings : atheist!gojo x choirboy!reader, m/m

A/N : doing smth with my angst skills since people seemed to like the previous post, so here goes another one :P reblog if u like? ♡

Genre : angst, fluff, hurt and comfort

WARNINGS : homophobia, gojo doesn't have powers, no one has — actually, claustrophobia, male reader is not geto, secret relationship

Disclaimer: this hc is based on catholic beliefs where few of the description might be exaggeration of reality. so if you feel uncomfy, u may kindly exit.

"N' if I win, you stop bringing yer' church boy to our place".

"Got it." a darker hue of blue seemed to fill in Satoru's crystal orbs, as he sits down the wooden chair. A new sense of raw competitiveness swirling in his eyes.

You can hear the smirk in his voice though the man you're looking at is Satoru's supposed opponent, who appeared rather scary with a buzz-cut and cat eyes.

You were far from where you were supposed to be — watching men arm wrestle in the wilder outskirts of your town that Satoru once assured you to be a 'fun place'.

Your thoughts were cut short the moment the white haired male locked eyes with you, a way to make you look at him win the round.

You caught him biting his bottom lip too, either in an attempt to take the opposing arm down or his cocky trademark that he liked to show you off, you'd never know.

And if the way his muscular biceps flexed in his tight grey hoodie made your cheeks hot, he wouldn't know either.

It was a matter of seconds and the buzz-cut's arm banged on the wooden table, the slam unforgiving. He hissed as the small crowed erupted from Satoru's side, the said male standing and patting his toned left arm with the right, pompous of his built.

"I told you! Maybe you can catch up to me in a few years, ay? " Satoru's mocking sweetness dripped off him as he patted the lost boy's head.

You expected him to join the boo-ing of the losing team, but then he turned around to walk you towards the exit of the run down cabin they used as a common party place, clutching your hand.

"Satoru, what was that? " you sighed, trying your best to hide the funny proud feeling.

"That? Just a friendly match with kids." He grinned, swinging your hand lightly in his hold. You couldn't help but shake your head.

"Yeah... friendly... you kept beating the kids." He chuckled at your comment, head thrown back slightly. "Hmmm, I was about to let them have the last round y'know. It's that brat's fault " he shrugged with his pouty lips.

You gave up the never ending argument, but for some reason, that made you feel giddy inside.

"I think you enjoyed my choir practice session more than I enjoyed that " you add with a huff, trying to convince no one but yourself about who gave the other a 'better part of the evening'.

The beautiful orange hue was starting to darken, the wind howling loudly.

Satoru was too lost in his thoughts to speak, meanwhile you were suddenly too shy to start up a conversation. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as Satoru walked you home.

Your teeth chattered lightly at a particular gust of wind, making Satoru's head snap to the side. That was him, the young tire shop owner from the outskirts — Satoru

"You're cold." He frowned, already removing his grey hoodie.

"Oh no, it's fine-" you began before he threw the soft fabric on your petite body. You blush furiously, grateful as it was getting dark out.

"Thank you." You mumble softly, unconsciously sighing when you inhaled Satoru's minty cologne. The sweater was definitely big on you, creating cute sweater paws that had Satoru smiling. It amuses him — your doe eyes, your big cute grin, brown hair with curls similar to the men in old greek sculptures.

He couldn't bring himself to ask. What if you don't see him as a friend? And all your 'subtle' shy glances were friendly gestures? Or worse, what if you see him more than a friend? Then good lord, he's sure he'd mess up someday.

Satoru presumes it possibly can't be the later one, considering you're the town's renowned pastor's only son and the local church's choir boy. Following the 'right' path and doing 'holy deeds' runs in the blood.

He talked for the reminder of your way home, his cold hands in his pockets. You were two houses away when you giggle adorably at something he had said.

Walking further close, Satoru becomes aware of the dark figure standing on top of the porch of your house.

His smile drops, and you must have noticed what Satoru was looking at as well, appearing nervous. He lowered his voice as both of you reached the front of your house, very aware of the person watching them.

Satoru was about to say goodbye to you but a loud harsh voice from the top of the stairs stopped him from doing so.

"Get inside."

His eyes stayed solemnly focused on the small boy that was you, as he gives you a weak smile. "Shit, isn't his father a crazy one?" he thinks to himself.

Satoru looked up only to see the angry eyes of pastor staring down at him.

He glared back at him, watching as you silently disappear behind your father into the house.

You had already informed your father that you'll be gone in the evening for the choir practice so he wouldn't go crazy looking for you. So why does he sound so mad? You lowkey agree with Satoru, sometimes he's too much.

Once inside, you realize Satoru's hoodie is still on you. The loud slam of the front door had you flinching lightly, cutting your thoughts off.

"I thought you were going to church to practice your singing " He spat out in rage. You shrunk lightly under his burning gaze, feeling so small.

"I-I was. It's just that my friend came along and we practiced together." That wasn't a lie, was it?

"I better not see you near that boy again. He's a good for nothing street rat. Do you understand me? " He ordered, jerking you by your shoulders as he spoke, tone threatening. He never stops screaming, never. Sometimes you wonder if he will bargain his way into heaven with that skill of his.

"...Yes father." you whispered, head bowed down. You want to cry, but held your breath instead.

"Speak up you disgrace of a child! " He roares, stepping closer to you. "Dad, stop it " came a shaking voice from you, tears building up in your eyes. You did not notice her, just heard the sound of your mother that tsked behind you. It wasn't going to get easy for your tonight.

Your breathing hitched the same time your body fills with fear, palms sweating profusely as the town pastor approaches you with big steps and grabs your hand rather roughly. Your father ignores you as he opened a familiar dark closet at the end of the hallway.

"No, please." You whisper, knowing that no one could save you in that moment.

"You want to go against the Lord and hold hands with that dirty street rat like some fag, then have at it with the consequences."

You sob loudly as you begged your father not to do it, body shaking uncontrollably. You shook your head furiously, trying to pull away and making your father angrier in the process.

"Please, don't, dad " you screamed helplessly as your father shoved you inside with a harsh push. "You will stay inside untill you learn to follow the lord. " The pastor sneered, closing the door just when you ran up to it.

Only if you knew he cared less about the 'lord' and more about his reputation in the town.

No one liked the poor 'outcasts' of this region you often marched proudly with. You never understood the whole point, wasn't it in our own will wether to or to not believe in god? He would love all his children equally.

"Dad please, I can't breathe in here " you screamed, your fear of the haunting little spaces of the empty closet kicking in as you desperately banged at the door. The room was small and stuffy, your breathes coming out labored as sweat truckled down the soft damp skin.

It was dark but you've been there enough times to know where the flashlight was by now, reaching out blindly. You sniffled and sobbed, grasping the flashlight once you found it. You quickly turn it on, feeling less panicked now.

You flash it towards the floor where a Bibble and a Rosary were sitting together. With gritted teeth, you shakily reach out to grab the book as hot strings of tears flowed through your red eyes. A whimper leaves your lips, opening the book to recite passages in a soft whisper.

You cried and cried until your eyes felt puffy and sore. You couldn't help but inhale Satoru's lingering scent from the hoodie you were wearing.

It was a vein to wait for the dinner, you'd probably not even get a breakfast the next morning. That's how it has always been.

It must've been a few hours later when the door finally opened, the bright light blinding your sight.

Your tears have already dried on your cheeks, feeling your face numb as your stood up from the floor with blank eyes.

"Go to your room" your father barked before turning away, leaving you disoriented and traumatized.

You shakily grab the Bibble from the floor as you made your away to your room.

"God is good. " You whisper.

The day went in a blur of you practicing for your new prayer this Sunday, futile attempt at reading something in the local library, and in the town's school teaching the young kids of the town. That was probably the only good part of the day, you loved children as much as they loved you, though the fact that your father kept an eye on you the whole time kept you bugging. You need a release.

You wave at the little kids in distance as they ran around happily at the sound of the class dispersal.

"Get in the car "

You turn around to see your father waiting for you in his white truck. The smile on your face fell quickly, eyes losing their shine.

School just ended for the day and the pastor was not joking about bringing you home right after. You sigh as your father drove off with a straight face.

After the whole incident with your father catching you and Satoru, he forced you to read three passages of Bibble before you eat breakfast. You read and read until the letters seemed like an unreadable mess, tears clouding your eyes every two minutes. It only made you feel worse as you read about all the things that lord considered to be sins.

You wanted to be good. You wanted to be pure and clean of heart. To be a son of God.

"F-father?" you ask softly, terrified of his unleashed hot temper. Your father grunts in response.

"Could you...um- may i be dropped at the church? " came your unsure voice like a small whisper. Once again the pastor did not reply, eyes focused on the road. You had already accepted defeat, trying not to seem too upset.

It was a few moments later that you notice your father take a left turn instead of right. You release a breathe you did not know you held, relieved that you wouldn't be stuck at home.

You looked out of the window watching cars and people pass by and wondering when will you be free again.

The truck came to a complete stop, you snap out of your thoughts to see you're now in front of the church. You hesitantly look to your father, waiting for him to say something.

"Are you going to get off? " he barked. You quickly scrambled to unlock the door, muttering a quick apology.

"I expect you home by seven. Remember to pray for your sins! " the pastor spoke before driving off.

You watch your father leave with blurry eyes, tears waiting to fall. It seemed like these days all you did was cry, but he couldn't help it when his father accused him of betraying God.

It wasn't fair.

A loud sob left your lips once your father's pick up truck disappeared down the road. You quickly turned and ran inside the church, not wanting anyone to catch you crying.

Unfortunately you failed to notice the tall figure walking down the opposite side of the street.

Satoru.

He had been on his way to his repair shop when he caught sight of you being dropped off at the church. It's the first time he sees you after your father had caught you and Satoru together.

His eyes focused on your faint distraught whimpers, listening to you cry before you disappeared into the building.

His heart broke the second a pitiful sob left your small body.

Satoru frowned, crossing the street quickly. He stood by the lawn in front of the church, eyes contemplating his next move.

He bit his lips harshly, remembering the promise he made to himself about never entering a church. The nasty people of big name — the reason of his and his little family being out-casted preached and prayed here.

But the memory of the your tear-stained face had him more determined to be by your side. All he wanted was nothing more than to comfort the beautiful boy he's in love with and wipe his sadness away.

"Fuck it. " He whispered angrily before stepping forward, into the sacred building.

Sinking to your knees in front of the alter, you ignored the pain in your bones at the impact. You were glad the church was empty, this way your emotional release would be easier to get off. In that moment you didn't try to hold back your sobs, letting them out freely.

You wanted to scream your lungs out, but the only sounds that escaped you were your loud sobs.

"Please God," you cried, bottom lip quivering "take this pain away." you croaked, staring up at the statue of Jesus Christ on the cross.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks but it felt so good to just let go.

"I can't take it anymore." You grab at your heart. Memories of your father cursing and telling him he's a sinner flashed through his mind. He never seemed happy regardless of what you did.

The thought of him punishing and locking you made you cry even harder, feeling like a failure of a son.

"I-I need a sign, please I-" you begged desperately, vision blurry with tears.

"y/n"

You heard your name echo throughout the church hall, making you whip your head towards the sound.

Satoru stood at the back of the church looking around unsurely before he ran down the asile towards the broken boy. The sound of his heavy leather shoes hitting the floor sounded loud in your ears.

You felt relief fill your body at the sight of Satoru there with you.

When the male finally reached you, he gently squatted down placing his hands under your arms, hoisting you up.

"Come on, get up." he whispered softly as you got up off your knees. Satoru did not want to focus on the sacramentals starring down at him, he focuses solemnly on the boy in front of him.

Pressing your face into Satoru's chest, you sobbed your little heart out as he quickly wrapped his arms around your body.

Satoru's heart broke the second you screamed into his chest, the sound muffled but still there.

"Shh, let it all out " he whispered, rubbing small circles with his warm palm around your small back.

"He hates me" you cried, looking up at Satoru with a messy damp face. "Trust me, nobody can." He took it upon himself to wipe your tears with gentle strokes of his thumb.

Satoru knew the pastor was a bad guy, but being an asshole to his own son? A sense of protectiveness kicks in him as he holds you tighter into his muscular arms.

"N-No matter what I do, I upset him. I'm a bad son." you sniffled.

"My, my, little baby. That's not true. They're lucky to have someone like you as their son. You're... a perfect boy."

Satoru gently cupped the boy's cheeks with both hands, feeling your breath begin to even out. "If beating up your dad doesn't work, we can just run away." The seriousness in the white haired male's voice made you chuckle into his arms.

There was something about your tears that made his heart crack.

Perhaps it was because someone like you didn't deserve to shed a single tear.

Or perhaps it made him want to hurt whoever made the angel in front of him upset. He thinks — if heavens exist, that's where you truly belong.

"Let's sit for a bit, okay? " Satoru suggested, holding your shoulders and making you sit in one of the benches.

"Hmm. Let's see, what can we do to get your mind off things? " Satoru spoke softly. His mere voice calms you down every time. There is this thin string of bliss and delight wrapped around his vocal cords that enchants you, brings you closer and closer to Satoru the more he talks. And you, as if in a trance, can not help but be pulled no matter what how harsh the punishment your earn each time.

"I... I like to pray the Rosary." you pulled out the beaded necklace out from under your shirt.

"Okay let's do that." Satoru encouraged with a smile, watching with curious eyes as you grab the wooden cross from the necklace.

You breathe in deeply before starting, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

Satoru watched fascinated as you did the sign of the cross, with head slightly bowed, making him do the same.

"I believe in God, the Father Almighty" you began focusing on your prayer.

You carry on as if nothing happened, but you can feel Satoru's warm hand slip in yours. He closes his eyes as well, listening to your sweet voice reciting the prayers.

Satoru had no idea what they meant, but if that brought you comfort and peace, he would sit there to accompany you.

Because whether you knew it or not, God did give you a sign, in the form of a troubled boy named Gojo Satoru.

A/N: aaand that's it! i didn't plan to extend the hc this long, but oh well. reblog if you enjoyed it <3

Tags: @luckimoon @nanamikentoseyebags @jspenft @aikaisnika @gh0stwish @dianagracesworld @Icheerymotion @tamakin7

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo headcanons #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #gojo stan #gojou satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo sensei #gojo #gojo x male reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo sfw #jjk satoru #gojo fanfic

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