#i need more of him on my screen please and thank you

[hyuckworld]

need to binge the masterlist…. long overdue but ๐·°(⋟﹏⋞)°·๐ (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) "(っ- ‸ - ς)ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (꩜ᯅ ꩜｡) ദ്ദി˙ ᴗ ˙ ) interpret this message

also i have almost (almost......) forgiven you for The Crime™ but i will be mourning its loss while i read this #seventeen fluff fic…….. also can’t say i’m surprised about mingyu being bullied but mc better than me because i would Not let him be my EX

vernon already going through it at work and then there’s mc god (Pretending I Don’t Know What Vernon’s About To Be Put Through) but oml him geeking over how pretty she is what if i Die <///3 the disney movie discrimination is CRAZYYY if vernon was woke enough he would’ve been even More down bad after the disney princess movie question

He tried, as confidently as he could, to voice out his supposed opinion. “Nolan’s Inception is one of the greatest films ever made.”

LMFAOOOO THIS MADE ME LAUGH TOO SORRY VERNON of course he’s a christopher nolan fanboy 🤮

HIM TAKING HIS SISTERS MOVIE SET IS INSANEEEEE i would never forgive him fr but also from mc’s perspective…… waoww ❤️ he want me so bad ❤️

vernon: Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university me: 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 #NEEDTHAT

Your smirk deepened. “Judging by your blush, you’re either terrible at lying…or,” you offered, voice lowering a little as you drummed your fingers against the counter, “You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.”

my queen why en GET HIM AGAIN!!!!!

this might as well be a contract killing with the way they’re about to swipe mingyu’s entire collection Tbh but ACTUALLY SO VALID BECAUSE WHY IS MINGYU SLANDERING MC LIKE THIS 😡 also vernon feeling guilty for being an asshole because of his hate boner for mingyu #truelove

AND VERNON AGREEING TO THIS PLAN WITH ZERO CONTEXT OF WHAT IT IS LIKE HE IS DOWN HORRENDOUSSSS he’s so valid tho don’t let anyone hurt ur queen <3

“Please tell me, Miss Bond, how are you planning to carry this out?” You offered him an incredulous look. “I don’t know what that reference means, I’m too pretty.”

LMFAOAOOA THIS IS THEE BEST TWO LINER ok three but like. ok just the dialogue. ok.

vernon malfunctioning because he insinuated he wanted to see mc again and in the context of robbing mingyu’s house again GODDD WHAT A LOSERRR (i want him so bad u have no idea) (god i should’ve bullied u harder into writing that smut scene)

You still could not believe how your ex-boyfriend was taking this long for the realisation to hit. Even when Eric jumped up on the screen, holding onto the ship’s ropes, the watcher only regarded the character intently, as if he was somehow part of the stranger film.

LMFAOOO WHY DID IT TAKE HIM SO LONG TO REALIZE FUCKKK he just secretly really enjoyed watching it ❤️ AND HIM TAKING SO LONG ON MULAN TOO i love my men useless with innate babygirlism so somehow this isn’t even giving me the ick .

VERNON HALFWAY OUT THE WINDOW AND MINGYU STILL CALLING HIM A NERD GODDD HOW ARE U GONNA ROB SOMEONE AND STILL GET GAGGED . okay wait my bad i read further and he actually followed up with the craziest line ever #ThankYouAmourCheol like wow. true literature

the way he’s so endeared even though she’s geeking out to disney Omg that is called real true love <3 UR KIDDING HES GONNA KISS HER TO THIS SONG….WWAOWW oh i killed myself i really did <3//33 WOW WOWW….. and she likes him sm missing out on TANGLED for a man like gawd. and the shrek reveal was so perfect he really matched her freak in the end

worst timeskip of my life TELL US WHAT HAPPENED IN BETWEEN. also the fact that it was to shrek goddd they were boning to all star

THE BARBENHEIMER SCENE LMFAOOOO kitten and the reader killed themselves after reading that thank u mc Okay waow. CUTEST FACKING FIC EVER i need to die at the way he was ready to commit crimes for mc from beginning to end. his down badness needs to be studied. in a lab. with me as head scientist. anyways that was beautiful and i think fia ficology also needs to be studied because how does it hit every single time!!!!!!!

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐨-𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

❝Who knew all it takes is a hot girl with top-tier taste for a man to admit he's wrong?❞

𝒈 𝒆 𝒏 𝒓 𝒆 : fluff, comedy, suggestive, college! au

𝒘 𝒐 𝒓 𝒅 𝒄 𝒐 𝒖 𝒏 𝒕 : 21.7k words

𝒔 𝒖 𝒎 𝒎 𝒂 𝒓 𝒚 : self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slam his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.

𝒄 𝒐 𝒏 𝒕 𝒆 𝒏 𝒕 : loosely inspired by watching the detectives, film major! vernon who owns an outdated film store, fem! reader is the baddest (but also the craziest) bitch in this fic, vernon is a loser, film major! mingyu who will be violated many times in this fic sorry king, mentions of many filmbro films which will also be violated, self-indulgent mentions of some of my favourite films, a few super dark jokes nothing serious though, kissing, mentions of sex and the act of cumming (all joking wise) but no actual sex because im fearing god today (super suggestive at best), barbenheimer reference <3

𝒕 𝒂 𝒈 𝒍 𝒊 𝒔 𝒕 : @hyuckworld @junyangis @hiraethmae @lllucere @intoanothermind @kokoiinuts @shnnzsworld @lilifiedeans @talkyoongitome @vanishingboots @cookiearmy @person1fys

𝒂 𝒖 𝒕 𝒉 𝒐 𝒓 ' 𝒔 𝒏 𝒐 𝒕 𝒆 : she is finally here !! so so sorry for taking so long </3 i never thought it would be finished atp but thank you addy and alice for pushing me to complete this lil fic !! addy ur film major info birthed the filmbro slander, and alice...no smut LMAO LOSER anyway do enjoy homies <33

𝒑 𝒍 𝒂 𝒚 𝒍 𝒊 𝒔 𝒕 : if you're too shy (then let me know) by the 1975 || q&a by seventeen || wonderful women by the smiths || confidence by ocean alley || talk talk by charli xcx || oh my! by seventeen

back to masterlist

“NO, THE HOBBIT IS SET BEFORE THE LORD OF THE RINGS.”

This particular customer, however, refused to grasp the concept. “But the Hobbit was released after,” he repeated, as if he had not heard twenty minutes ago, when he first entered the store. “Wouldn’t it make sense to watch the more recent movies?”

Vernon clamped his lips together, stopping himself from saying something that would lose him a potential buyer. Well, not that it would matter much, considering the man before him could not comprehend what a prequel was, but still—he had to make this idiot understand.

“I understand that, sir, but the Hobbit is a prequel to the Lord of the Rings.” Holding onto the DVD set, he pointed to the grand picture of the movie’s protagonist. “It’s based on Bilbo Baggins’ adventures.”

“But was that not the little fellow from the Rings?”

“No, sir, that was Frodo. Bilbo is Frodo’s uncle.” The boy then clarified, tone heightening, “You know, where he reclaims his home from Smaug?”

“Smog?” The customer parroted incorrectly, scratching his hair as if the action would jog his memory. “Now why does this hobbit’s home have health violations?”

The twist of his lips was inevitable. “Smaug,” he corrected. “The dragon…the villain…the whole reason the movie was created?”

“See, I only know that one slimy creature with the ring. What was he always saying…” The man snapped his fingers, a lightbulb switching in his otherwise empty brain. “Ah, yes!” He then completely distorted his voice, rasping, “My presh-shious!”

For a split second, Vernon was a little gob-smacked at the impression. Then, he remembered he needed sales, and made sure to laugh as if that customer was the funniest man that ever stepped foot in the store. 

This particular joker, who was clearly not understanding Vernon’s analogies, instead asked, “Well, which one do you recommend?”

Ah, the fated question. 

Besides from the Lord of the Rings collection, he had been asked this very question a few too many times, when customers would browse the films on offer and ask for his opinion. Not that he considered himself an all-knowing master of movies—

He smiled. Now that was something he could chuckle about.

“Well, sir, the Lord of the Rings is a timeless classic. I would recommend it to anyone interested in a well-written, well-produced fantasy.”

The man twisted his lips. “But I don’t really like fantasy, though.” 

Vernon could not help his smile dropping. I don’t get paid enough for this.

With as much strength he could muster, he persuaded the idiot to get a rom-com instead, and ushered him out. 

He sighed, going back to the desk. The store was never busy—unsurprising, since nobody buys DVDs anymore—but that was how he liked it. The less customers that bothered him, the better. He did not want to be that type of guy, but he would rather have his own company than those who thought that the Marvel movies were God’s gift to man. (The Spiderman movies, however, he had to leave out of his apparently controversial statement).

Vernon was about to close the shop out of pure boredom when someone stepped in. 

His eyes darted to the newcomer. 

They stayed as he beheld you.

Perhaps this was a gross generalisation, but he did not expect someone so cute walking in a store this run-down. Maybe you had mistaken it for a vintage shop, planning to rob the CDs, or thought there might be decades old clothing in here. He was certain you had walked in by mistake, but then you began to browse the movie sections.

His first thought was that you seemed to have excellent taste. 

You slowed your steps in the classics section, eyes roaming at the Fan Favourites shelf which was simply movies Vernon had seen this week. Still, they were amazing fucking movies, hence their place on the shelf, now being admired by the likes of you. He wondered what you thought of the one DVD you picked up, assessing the blurb at the back. Roman Holiday. The boy could have smiled—you truly had a knack for picking out special films. 

Your fingers lingered on the movies for only a couple of minutes before you saw the desk—first the counter, and then the person behind it. 

The fact that your first instinct was to smile at the boy behind the counter had a profound effect on him.

Now, he did not want to sound pathetic; he did not know you, had never seen you before, but someone this aesthetically pleasing did not come to stores like his. Someone who picks up Roman fucking Holiday and be this cute did not acknowledge boys like him.

But Vernon Chwe will be cool about it. He will not look like a loser in front of you.

He pretended to look over some DVDs on the counter desk as you approached him. “Hey, there,” you greeted, and only then he allowed himself to look up, glancing you over. Already you had propped your arms on the top, eyes darting around the store as if finding something which deserved your attention. “I wanted to ask about a specific film. Well, films.” 

Films? Vernon really thought all the intelligent minds had rotted in this lifetime, but clearly you were an exception. “Of course,” he said, setting the movie on the side. “What genres are you interested in?” he ticked his head towards the Fan Favourites. “You were looking in the right place, to be fair.”

“Hmm?” you only spared that shelf a momentary—dismissive—glance. “Oh, sorry! I was looking for a specific box-set, but I can’t seem to find it on the shelves. I was hoping you could have it out back.”

Specific box-set? Vernon tried to contain his smile. Of course you were looking for a collection of timeless classics. “What’re you looking for?” he asked you, hoping you were going to request Hitchcock’s best. If you asked for Wong Kar-Wai’s trilogy, he might have fallen to his knees. 

You smiled at him.

Then dropped the bomb.

“I don’t know if you’d have the Disney Princess box set? You know, the complete edition?”

Vernon’s eye twitched a little. What the fuck?

Your gaze on him did not shift. “Are you okay?”

It took a moment for him to realise that you had asked him a question. “Huh? Right, sorry,” he said hurriedly, mind rushing for the many possibilities as to why you had requested a set like that. Perhaps you were braindead? No, that was too harsh. But then, who was watching Disney movies at that age?

Then an idea came into his head, and it made him feel much better. 

“So sorry about that,” he reiterated, scratching the back of his neck. “Anyway…Disney Princess set, huh?” He sighed out a laugh. “A sweet treat for your younger siblings, then.”

“Younger siblings?” A swift shake of your head, still smiling. “Haven’t got any of those.” 

The twitching was back. “...anyone under the age of 12 you know?”

“Now you’re making me sound like a freak,” you mused, locking your hands together. “Is it that shocking that I’m getting the set for myself?”

Vernon’s any attempt to diffuse the conversation died the moment you said those words.

Disney. Princess. Movies. The box-set you wanted was a Disney. Fucking. Princess box-set. 

At this rate, his eye-twitching was very much visible to you. “Don’t tell me no one’s ever bought a Disney movie from you,” you said, surprised by his change of attitude.

“Well,” he jeered, “I usually have first-time parents with their toddler kids asking me about sets like that.” 

You then titled your head back a little, taken aback with the comment. “Are you saying I’m too old to watch Disney movies?”

“No!” he instinctively defended himself, though he had virtually no defence to offer. He had, in his own words, called you a hag. 

This was it—he was usually stellar at keeping his opinions to himself. Now, the one time he could have kept his mouth shut, it spluttered open and not only embarrassed him, but one of the only cute potential customers. He was his own saboteur. His own destruction. 

After catching the flurry of emotions on his face, you had a realisation. 

Did his stupid comments get to you? Perhaps they would have, had you not seen his like before. Not only that, you had a sneaky feeling he himself had no clue on what category he was slotted into.

So you let the corners of your mouth curve upwards—up to the point where you were smirking, completely catching the boy off guard. 

“My god, you’re a filmbro!” 

Those emotions that you had witnessed now all conjoined into confusion. “Huh?” was his intelligent answer to the accusation. Filmbro?

And then you began to chuckle—little bursts of soft giggles, which escaped your mouth the more the revelation settled over you. “Wait, wait,” you began, “I need to ask this first!” You wiggled your finger at him. “What is your favourite film?”

Again, the fated question. This time, though, he felt as if his answer would not be the right one. Still—if there was one thing he was confident about, it was his expertise in films.

He tried, as confidently as he could, to voice out his supposed opinion. “Nolan’s Inception is one of the greatest films ever made.” 

There was one, solitary, quiet moment.

It was ruined by the subsequent laughter, courtesy of your mouth, which could not shut after his answer. You had to grip the counter, cackling at the response, and Vernon could only gawk at you, face reddening with every second spent watching you keel over. 

After what seemed like a lifetime (but was only about thirty seconds), Vernon finally cleared his throat. “Alright now, that’s enough comedy,” he muttered.

Another thirty seconds later, you finally seemed to calm down. The mischievous mirth on your face, although would have had any man swooning at your feet, seemed to irritate him all the more. “I’m sorry,” you gasped out, wiping a slight tear from your eye, “You just…you reminded me of my boyfriend.”

Of course. Vernon nearly clicked his tongue in disappointment. Of course the pretty, borderline-mean, borderline-terrible-taste-in-movies girl was taken. Fuck my life, son.

Your smile flickered—almost as if it turned cruel. “My mistake…ex-boyfriend.”

His eyebrow then raised a little. Maybe life can be unfucked; maybe the pretty, not-that-mean-as-he-thought, changeable-taste-in-movies girl was still attainable. 

Your eyes wandered once more, but this time to your hands. “I was actually going to get the Disney Princess set for him.”

The eyebrow decided to raise further up. He was dying to know why you were 1) getting your ex-boyfriend a present and 2) getting your ex-boyfriend the worst fucking present. But of course, due to the lack of balls in his pants, he did not ask you.

The crazier notion was, maybe you knew the lack of balls that should be present in his pants, because you iterated for him. “I’m surprised you’re not asking why I’m giving my ex a Disney Princess movie set, Mr. Filmbro.”

That term had him immediately frowning. “I don’t particularly care,” he lied as best as he could. He then crossed his arms. “Plus, I’m afraid the store doesn’t have the sets. I’m gonna have to order them in.”

A tilt of your head. “Are you lying?”

The cross of his arms was gone—now his hands were raised in surrender. “No, no!” At least not the set order bit…

Although it was quite clear that you did not believe him, you spared him this once. “Alright…” you receded your arms from the desk, taking a step back. Instead, you pointed at him. “But don’t think I’m gonna leave you alone on this!” 

Vernon’s insanely suave, cool, mystique response was giving you a thumb’s up. “Of course.” 

As you walked back to the entrance, hand on the door, you looked back at him. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Filmbro.” 

The eye-twitch was about to come back. He did not bother waving as you left the shop.

VERNON COULD NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU FOR THE SEVEN DAYS BETWEEN YOU AND TODAY. 

It was slightly embarrassing—he supposed he should have expected some extraordinary meet-cute, where someone who looked and acted like you would waltz into his dusty-ass film store and ask for possibly the worst movie collection to grace the western cinema. 

But then you called him a fucking Filmbro, and now the self-hatred might bubble to the surface of his usual calm demeanour. 

The boy scoffed as he fixed the alphabetical order of the CD covers, located in the Classics section. Filmbro…what the fuck do I look like a Filmbro for…

He firstly supposed that he should consider it a compliment—so what if he had superior knowledge of movies over the average morons that wandered into the store? He was paid minimum wage for this knowledge! Fuck, he was doing a degree within this field! (Not that he was quite sure he would end up as a blockbuster director at the fine age of 21, but the arts majors were always told to dream beyond the realistic limits.)

The more he contemplated over the vicious term, the more it began to bother him. Filmbro…Film. Bro. God, it sounded like a classist clique—a club where the members considered themselves above the laws of society, but were horrendously ridiculed by the outsiders. At the end of the day, he had always been an outsider in these clubs—he did not enjoy being the laughing stock, even if it meant being a member of an elitist group. 

Whatever. So what if you called him a Filmbro? He had only spoken to you once; the opinion of one girl—regardless of how pretty she was—was not of any relevance to him.

But then you sauntered into his store, and suddenly he forgot that he was seething over you for an entire week. 

There you were, footsteps harmonising along the bells of the entrance, and he swerved back to see you. You, in all your frill-skirted, layered-shirted, gum-chewing glory, catching his eye and bringing back the smile which you had offered him the moment you bestowed him that term of little-endearment. 

“Hello again, Mr. Filmbro.”

Don’t be a prick, don’t be a prick, don’t be a prick—

It was fine—it was okay. Vernon was a man now—no longer in his teens. He could have a normal, pleasant conversation. He was mature and able enough to interact with a girl who just happened to disagree with him on certain interests. 

He would be cordial—kind.

“How can I help you, Miss Disney-Hag?”

His skin nearly crawled. I need to kill myself immediately. 

A bit of a low blow from his nickname, but you were laughing, a silly little melody. You must have been crazy, because any other sane, rational human being would have been offended—should have been offended. Vernon fought to keep his face straight. 

“I see you’ve been thinking about me then,” you said. 

That had him looking away, walking behind the counter. “It’s not everyday I get a grown-ass woman asking me about children’s films.”

You mocked a gasp, slapping a hand over your chest. “Ouch. Do you hurt every girl that walks into your filmstore, or is this special treatment reserved for me?

Vernon focused on the cash in the register. “When another girl asks for the special edition for the Cinderella trilogy, then I’ll hurt her just the same.”

You clicked your tongue. “I should have known all men suck in their own ways.” You then approached the counter, propping your elbows atop the surface. “At least show me you’re good at your job and bring me the movie set I ordered.”

At this precise moment, all the thoughts about your stubborn addiction, playful smirk and how terrible the Little Mermaid was had completely vanished.

Shit. 

Maybe his irrational dislike ran further than he thought.

“Yeah…” but then he realised he sounded incredibly suspicious, and cleared his throat, forcing a little assurance in his usual monotone. “Yes! Yeah, of course! The movie set.” He took a step back, nodding his head ever so slowly, as if his head was not churning out a million different plans. “Give me one second…”

“Sure,” you could barely get out before Vernon whirled on his heel, bursting through the backstage door, and into the Chwe flat. 

He did not know whether this was going to work out. 

Like lightning he ascended the stairs, hands brushing against the bannister as he went past his bedroom, door slightly ajar. Not the destination he was seeking, he stopped before the neighbouring door—this one firmly closed. 

The boy made sure to knock first. No answer. Perfect. Slowly turning the knob, he opened the door, peeking around just in case there was someone in the room, and then he would have to resort to more planning. Since the coast was crystal clear, though, he put his mind at ease, only focusing on the main plan.

The room he had entered was a myriad of pop culture references and childhood memories, plastered on the butterfly-covered walls, sitting atop bedside tables or hanging off the hooks. Vernon never realised how invested his sister was with certain TV shows or films till he saw Lindsay Lohan’s mugshot plastered next to her bed. He had asked about it once, but she only waved him off. You wouldn’t understand her impact, she had said to him, and went back to shitting about him to her friends. 

Prying away from the poster, his eyes settled on what he came for, settled in the middle of the huge book shelf.

Sofia prided herself with her book and movie collection, a hereditary trait which Vernon shared: the top and bottom shelves were filled with her all-time favourites, even resorting to furthering her obsessions with the merch related to her treasured characters. He remembered laughing at her ideas until he saw a Barbie FunkoPop figure staring back at him one day. That notion was already horrendous, but the black, soulless eyes had guaranteed its spot in his sleep paralysis the next day.

Thankfully, the little horror was not on show on her bookshelf—this time, right in the middle, was the very prize that he sought. 

The Disney Princess Movie Set—Complete Edition.

Packaged in pink casing, Sofia’s most treasured piece sat, almost with its head held high as the other movies orbited around its pull. As far as Vernon remembered, it held all the Princess movies, and was worth at least 6 hours of his wages.

The boy looked around the room, as if his sister would appear any second.

Then, like a thief in the night (even though it was broad daylight, and would definitely be caught), he swiped the set off the bookshelf, and hurried out of her room.

“Sorry, Sofe,” he could only murmur under his breath as he dashed down the stairs, hoping you had not been bored by his absence, and left him with stolen goods at the scene of the crime.

He opened the door adjacent to the shop, and he almost sighed in relief when you perked up, eyes darting straight to your apparent order. When he saw your face light up like fireworks in the night sky, he titled his head back a bit, stunned by your boisterous reaction.

“You actually bought it!” you exclaimed, drumming your hands against the counter as he set the movies down. “I had a feeling you would blow me off.”

“Business is business,” Vernon said, crossing his arms, “Shit taste in movies will not stop me from making my money.”

You clicked your tongue. “Spoken like a business major.”

“Film major, thank you. I would rather kill myself than submit to the horrors of finance.”

“Don’t die on me just yet.” Bringing out your purse, you fished through its contents, first setting your card on the counter. Then, you brought out a crumpled piece of paper. “I actually have a few more films I want to ask about.”

The boy was expecting another long list of early 2000s rom-coms—perhaps an opinion for every Disney movie ever made in its existence. He swore if he had to hear about Rachel McAdams’ versatility one more time, he might blow his brains out in front of a customer. 

Then you dropped the names, and he had to surge his head forward.

“What are your thoughts on Wolf of Wall Street, American Psycho, Pulp Fiction…Fight Club, Saving Private Ryan, Scarface…” You squinted at the list, finding the names neverending. “Jeez, this list keeps going, huh?” 

He could not help the scoff. “And you called me a Filmbro.” He set his forearms on the counter, locking his hands together. “What do you need these movies for?”

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

The term had him pausing. Of course—the ex-boyfriend. How has he heard of this man, but not know a thing about him? Shit, he did not even know your name.

“This ex of yours has…an interesting taste,” he said slowly. “What’s he like?”

“I can tell you he attends the same college as you. Well, us,” you clarified, jerking your head towards the college colours of your server’s hoodie. “Film major. Just like you, actually.” 

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

A hesitant nod of his head. “I have a few classes with him.”

“Oh?” Your stare was a little more intense now. “What do you think of him?”

Right. 

Another fated question—the people around him had to stop asking him such controversial questions, or else he was bound to piss someone off. You were already letting him off the hook too many times; one more judgemental comment, and he was having that Princess movie set smashed on his head.

Kim Mingyu. Fuckass Kim Mingyu. Film major—just like him. One of the most popular boys in the year—very unlike him. All the teachers love his essays, all the girls love his freakishly-perfect six-pack, which Vernon is extremely irritated (and devastatingly intimidated) by. 

What all these people failed to realise, though, was that Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university—and the planet, if dramatics were in order. If you thought that Vernon was a filmbro, then Mingyu was Filmbrother. Filmcomrade. Filmnemesis. 

It was as if you could hear the thoughts churning in his head. “You can be honest, you know. He did dump me at the end of the day.” A smirk began to appear. “Say your worst.”

The reassurance did not help. “I mean,” he started, swiping your card, “He’s okay? I haven’t talked to him enough to have an opinion on him.” 

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

But because the fates like to shit on his head every now and then for kicks, they decided to leave you unsatisfied with his answer. “Or, you can keep lying!” 

Excellent intuition, really. “I’m not!” he exclaimed, slapping the card back on the counter. “I really don’t know much about him.”

The big man upstairs was testing him even further, when, with a determined gaze, you set your elbows atop the surface. You leaned closer, tilting your head to the side as you inspected him, and Vernon blinked back at the sheer lack of space you had created. His mouth twisted, eyes frantically darting at the features of your face, not quite taking in the entirety of your being. Your vision seemed to work perfectly, because it caught the slight flush at the tops of his cheeks, where it was just pale skin seconds before.

Your smirk deepened. “Judging by your blush, you’re either terrible at lying…or,” you offered, voice lowering a little as you drummed your fingers against the counter, “You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.” 

Fuck everything and everyone, because that only made him blush more furiously. You could not help the chuckle that escaped, deciding to cease torturing him and take your card. “I’ll not say the answer, Mr. Filmbro, but I think you already know.”

Since he had no plans of turning into a human form of a ketchup bottle, he evaded the topic entirely, instead focusing on interrogating you. “You still haven’t told me how Mingyu is related to the movie list you made.”

That seemed to hold your interest. “Oh, of course!” Putting the list back into your bag, you began, “Well, the list holds my ex-boyfriend’s favourite films. I wanted to know your opinion on a few.”

He could not contain his sigh. Oh, he had an opinion on these films that you mentioned. Again, he would rather be buried with his thoughts on the specific genre than ever tell you. The curiosity, though, was eventually going to eat him alive.

So much for minding his business.

“I mean…” he began to think, trying to find the right words. “I don’t mind them? Godfather is a good film, but I’ve seen better from Brando. I like American Psycho, but again, people tend to miss the point of the movie.”

As you nodded, listening to his two-cents on the movies you mentioned, he paused, furrowing his brows. “Why do you care about my opinion?”

You smacked your lips together, folding the list back. “I don’t know much about you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, “But you don’t run a filmstore without knowing a thing or two about the films you sell.”

“So?” He crossed his arms atop the counter. “Shouldn’t you have asked the guy who you made the list about?”

“Trust me,” you said, your smirk turning more into a rageful flash of teeth, “I know exactly what he thinks of these films.”

Don’t particularly know what to make of that comment. “Well, I don’t know what my opinion for these films is going to help you in any way.”

“It has helped.” You paused then, waiting to see if he would egg you on, asking how his seemingly tame opinions would play into the grand scheme of things. “All part of my master plan.”

Master plan? Vernon may have been interested before, but he was certain that, before, he could have hid it without letting you catch onto it. In a sudden flash, though, as if his mouth was beyond his control, he regrettably slipped out the words which had you smiling more than he would have liked.

“What master plan?”

He almost closed his eyes. Shit. Now I’m fucking invested.

The corners of your mouth, lifting upwards, had him almost nervous. “I was hoping you would say that.” 

Great. Brilliant. Fantastic. Fucking Stupendous. Vernon could not think of other pretentious synonyms. “I will tell you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, once again settling your locked hands on the counter, “If you help me out with it.” 

That had his eyebrow shooting upwards. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I intended.” A pause. “Look, I know it’s a little crazy…being asked by someone to help in some mysterious plan. But hey!” you added, “You know who the target is, and you know I can be trusted.”

“Calling your ex-boyfriend a target makes this sound like a contract killing. Also, I actually don’t know that,” he corrected, crossing his arms. “The only thing I know about you is your weird obsession with children’s movies.”

“Well, buddy, that’s basically my entire personality, so you don’t need to know any more!”

Vernon sucked in a breath. “I don’t even know your name.”

Your eyes darted to his features, the sharp brows, the speculative eyes, the flared nostrils. His lips, which were twisted in a curious, bemused line. “That’s an easy problem to solve.” You decided to battle his frown with a smile. “_____.”

_____. At least he knew one important thing about you. He swore Mingyu had mentioned your name before, but then he should not also hold certainty—that boy’s favourite subject had always been himself. 

You snapped him out of his thoughts. “This is when you tell me your name now…or do you enjoy being called a filmbro?”

Man…he could not look you in the eye afterwards. “I don’t…” he got out, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And it’s Vernon. Chwe Vernon.” 

“Vernon,” you repeated, lips curling upwards. “Alright, Vernon, since both of us know each other’s names, you can definitely help me now!” 

The said-boy tried to smile, which was more a grimace. “Well…”

“Tell you what,” you said, trying to find something in your bag. “Wait, give me a second…shit, where is that piece of paper…?” You finally managed to fish a crumpled piece out. “Right!” After catching sight of a pen lying around the counter, you took it and scribbled something quickly, sending it his way.

Taking it, he looked at the messy scribbles—your number. “You’re looking at it as if I passed you a death threat,” you snickered. Vernon gave an uneasy smile. “Just think it over. I need movie expertise, and there’s no one else I know who can help me more than a guy who runs a film store.”

The boy behind the counter listened to you, paper still in hand. Maybe Mingyu made some points breaking up with you—you did not know who Vernon was, save for the name that was tied to him, and the job he was forced to do by his parents. Realistically, he had to decline, because if he has ever learned something in his life—or from watching a myriad of golden age romantic tragedies—is that you never trust the beautiful, crazy girls. 

“Hey,” he heard you say, and he swore your chirp had softened. “I’ll go ahead with my plan in a week’s time. If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll know your answer. You don’t have to tell me now.” When he looked at you, he saw your expression shift. “That’s why I only gave the paper.” 

He supposed he could appreciate this sentiment. “Thanks,” he could only say, pocketing your number. “Is there…anything else you want? Aside from the—” a snide glance at the DVD set—”the movie?” 

“I saw that,” you scoffed, taking hold of the movie set. “And no, I’m alright. I’ll bother you about children’s movies another time.” 

“I’ll make sure these children’s movies are all conveniently sold out when you come,” he countered without thinking. 

You could only shake your head, trying to contain your laugh. “Careful, or I just might bother you after the plan.” 

Vernon did not know what he felt at that notion—would he want that? However, he did not have time to ponder, since you were already heading for the door. As you nearly left the store, bell ringing, he did not hear the door close. He glanced up, catching you looking at him with an indecipherable expression. “Yes?”

You waited a moment before parting your mouth. “I hope to hear from you, Mr. Filmbro.” 

With that, you swiftly exited the store, leaving this Mr. Filmbro even more helpless than he was between the seven days between your first encounter, and now this very second. 

“JO MADE SENSE WITH FRIEDRICH AT THE END. SHE SIMPLY…NEEDED A MAN AFTER PINING FOR LAURIE.”

The professor listened in the small circle, the rest of the students typing or writing down the answer. “Like, realistically,” Mingyu went on, twisting his mechanical pencil between his fingers, “The whole point of the movie is her relationship with Laurie, and that was shattered the moment he married Amy. Friedrich was like…” he pouted in thought, furrowing his brows. “The light at the end of the tunnel…does that make sense, Minghao?”

The said-man nodded. “Interesting take,” he noted, walking closer to the circle he was teaching. “So you agree that Jo needed Friedrich at the end of the film?”

“Absolutely.”

There were a few murmurs around the room, majority of them agreeing with the golden boy who was sitting at the head of the circular, white table. Vernon, who was sat one girl away from him, typed furiously in his laptop, adding to his notes. MINGYU IS A FUCKING IDIOT…CINEMATICALLY ILLITERATE…BORDERLINE MISOGYNIST…Okay, perhaps he was exaggerating on the last one, but his analysis of the question pissed him off. 

Did Jo need Friedrich at the end of the movie? Was what Professor Minghao had asked them about an hour ago. Vernon knew the answer immediately, and, although did not share it with the seminar, was surprised to be disagreed by the majority of the class. Not surprising, however, when his class was filled with men who could not imagine a woman in a film wanting anything else but a man beside her. 

Whatever, he thought, straying from the web page and instead checking the release date for Oppenheimer when he heard your name crop up amongst the discourse in the table. 

“Did _____ actually?” 

“Oh, yeah, said she thought Jo should have been on her own.” A click of tongue. “Not surprising, coming from her.” 

Vernon instantly perked up, fingers pausing on the keyboard. Not surprising? The boy was actually floored at that opinion—and how valid you were for expressing it. 

“I mean,” another girl, right next to him, chimed in, “Didn’t you say she was really stupid, Gyu?”

“God, I don’t know where to begin,” Mingyu said, aghast, and the boy who eavesdropped felt a little dread at every word that escaped his mouth. “Everytime I watched a movie with her she always got bored, or argued with me when I tried to explain shit to her.” 

“I remember we sat with her while we were tryna do our film project last semester,” the boy beside Mingyu recalled. “She had no fucking clue who Martin Scorcese was, man!” 

The group audibly gasped, save for Vernon, who could not help himself, refusing to mind his business. Nasty habit this—he made a note to call you out for this later on, should you walk into his store again. 

Fuck. He did not want that. Of course he did not. He should stop thinking about it too. 

You, that is.

“She’s gotta be the dumbest one yet, Gyu,” the boy snickered, snapping his laptop shut. 

“You don’t even know the half of it,” the dumper groaned, raking through his locks. “You know she was always watching those fucking Disney princess movies?” Vernon’s eyes widened a little. “Man, I remember she wouldn’t get enough of them. Like, what are you, six? Why the fuck am I watching a movie about a midget dragon?”

Then, Mingyu said the words that made the eavesdropper’s spirits shot down. 

“_____ may have been hot, but she was one stupid bitch. Thank god I got rid of her.” 

The others agreed. He may have spoken more on the matter of your lack of media literacy, but the professor was back, and the seminar had quietened, all in focus. 

All except for the boy who had not given his two cents on the matter, frozen solid at the conversation that occurred. What the fuck was that? He had first thought, over and over to the point that he nearly typed it in the seminar document. He had always known Mingyu was an asshole, but what he said about you gave him a very uneasy feeling.  

What sent him over the edge was that a lot of his grievances sounded identical to Vernon’s own words. 

Miss Disney Hag he had called you—to your face he had insulted your taste in films, and you had only laughed. He wondered how you felt when it was Mingyu amplifying those very opinions on a daily basis. 

A frown marred his features. Damn it. He knew he was a loser, but he did not know he was an asshole. Like Mingyu…

Vernon visibly shivered. 

As Minghao voiced out the objectives for the second half of the seminar, the boy brought his hand into his trouser pocket, slipping out the paper. He looked over your number, the messy scribbles dancing in his eyes. Darting to his phone on the table, he held it in his free hand, looking over the contacts. 

“Damn it,” he said under his breath. 

Was he going to regret this? Most probably. Will you probably make him do something that would result in a fatal injury, and land a permanent stain on his social record? One hundred percent. 

If he knew these things already, then what he should have done was toss the paper in the nearest bin. What he did instead, as he typed in some vital information in his phone, was something that changed his life (or at least the life he will live for the next few weeks).

vernon: u dont have to wait till next week 

vernon: ill help u with the plan

There. And now, he shall wait.

Which, he pondered as he saw the immediate response, was not very long. 

normal disney enjoyer: wait who tf is this??

Oops. 

vernon: oh mb this is vernon lmao

vernon: from the filmstore

normal disney enjoyer: oh damn why didn’t u say so !! freaky ass text 

vernon: ??? ive said it now tf

normal disney enjoyer: and im happy u have ;)

Well. Vernon sighed a little, trying to focus back on his work, but to no avail.

Let’s see what you have in store for the next week.

VERNON WAS WONDERING WHETHER HE STILL HAD TIME TO KILL HIMSELF. 

It could be quick—maybe if he jumped in front of the next incoming car, full speed, he might suffer a haemorrhage in his brain, and die bleeding out as his parents took him to the hospital. Of course, that does mean that it would be slow and excruciating, but he thought that nothing would be as painful as whatever you had planned for him.

Come on…maybe it won’t be that bad. Perhaps his thoughts were spiralling too quickly. Perhaps his assumptions of you were a stretch, and that all this anxiousness, pent up in him, would wash away the moment he saw your car pulling up to the store’s driveway.

He felt himself prepare mentally as, eventually, your small, red car slowed in front of him. Right before him, he saw the passenger window roll down, and he caught sight of your smiling face, teeth showing. 

Perhaps it truly would not be as bad as he imagined. 

“Get in loser, we’re going trespassing.”

Nevermind.

“Oh my God,” was the unsatisfying answer to your perfect reference. Seriously, you should not bother saving your precious material on such a lame boy, but there was something so exciting about his eyes sharply rolling, colour staining the tops of his cheeks. “I’m not doing this if you’re going to quote terrible movies the entire night.”

“First of all, fuck you. Mean Girls birthed half of your customers.” You flicked the lock on the passenger door, pushing it open. “Second, you don’t have a choice. You’ve agreed to ruin Mingyu’s life.”

“First of all yourself, I did not agree to that.” Begrudgingly, he settled shotgun, snapping the car door shut. “Second, Mean Girls was a waste of Rachel McAdams’ talent.” 

You scoffed, starting the car. “I don’t take opinions from men who can’t drive.” 

This shut the boy up nicely, clamping his lips together in quiet shame. He wished he could argue with that—you, he feared, had a good point. Despite that, it was not his fault that his parents insisted on the reliance of public transport; the bus was his greatest villain—aside from the middle school kids in his store that always ask for the next FIFA game. 

You could not help taking a second glance at him, chuckling at his defeat. “Don’t be sad, Mr. FIlmbro,” you reassured him, changing gears. “I like my men a little pathetic.” 

That did not help at all—his eyes widened, gawking at you, but you were already looking ahead, pressing your foot on the accelerator. 

“Jesus!” he exclaimed as he held onto his seat, taken aback by your sudden rush of speed. “I thought you wanted to kill Mingyu, not yourself!”

“My bad,” you only said, turning right. “I’m just so excited! You know, getting there.” 

“I can see that,” he mumbled, looking away from you into the back. Strapped in with the seatbelt, bizarrely, was Sofia’s Disney Princess Set, as if the dozen-movie box was a toddler in need of extra assistance. What the fuck…?

“I’m having these films in pristine condition, Vernon,” you explained, though it still made no sense in his head. “You understand, don’t you?”

Of course not. “Sure.” 

He waited for further explanation, which, as the silence continued, you decided to throw him the conversational bone. “I don’t just carry the set around with me, you know.”

Sure. “Of course not.” 

“It’s relevant to today’s plan,” was all you would offer, speeding more to reach the destination quicker. Vernon held onto the belt a little tighter, still eyeing the movie set rather suspiciously before focusing back on the road. 

The drive was not long—perhaps thirty minutes at most—but he knew he was leaving the rougher parts of the city when nicer neighbourhoods welcomed his vision, the litter on the roads disappearing, instead trees in an orderly line painting the sides of the pavement. The further you drove into these suburbs, the more he was surprised at the sheer luxury of the exterior of these houses; granted, he did not originate from poverty, but his idea of a holiday was three days in the comforts of his bed, bingeing the Miyazaki collection with a lifetime supply of mint chocolate chip ice cream on his lap. 

Vernon had to save his mouth dropping to the seat of the car floor when they rolled into the Kim household’s drive. 

He was aware that Mingyu derived from wealth—the former could not help noticing his pricey, flashy brands every time the taller boy sauntered into the Film Sound classes, but he did not expect this Bridgerton-ass looking house, nestled in between the other million-dollar homes in the neighbourhood. He was greeted with a clearer picture the closer you parked in their drive, surprisingly empty; it was around that moment that you noticed that all the lights were turned off in the house, almost a haunting image. 

The boy was on his way to make a comment about your terrible spying skills when you rebuffed him immediately, saying, “I know what you’re thinking. I have it covered.”

“Please tell me, Miss Bond, how are you planning to carry this out?”

You offered him an incredulous look. “I don’t know what that reference means, I’m too pretty.”

His answer to that was a thin, long line of his mouth. You chose to ignore it completely. “Mingyu’s parents are out of town right now, and his sister’s on a ski-trip in Austria.”

A glance of confusion. “In the middle of March?” 

A shrug. “You know what rich people are like.” Weirdly enough, he knew exactly what you were talking about. “But it worked out great for us.” With a hard exhale you got out of the car, the boy beside you reflecting your actions. “All the easier for what we have to do.” You opened the car door behind the driver’s one, unstrapping the seatbelt and carefully bringing out the movie set. 

“How’re we getting into the evil lair, then?” he asked dryly, crossing both his arms. “I assume the millionaires don’t happen to put a spare key under the carpet?”

“Imagine,” you said, sighing melodramatically. “I tried making them do it so I could sneak into his house, but for some reason, Mingyu never agreed to it.” 

“I wonder why,” he muttered.

“Worry not, young grasshopper!” You strolled to the very right of the house, where a thin wooden door was almost hidden from view. “Where there is a door closed, another is mysteriously open.” 

With a hard push, the door trudged back, swinging heavily away. He stared at it, not quite believing how someone can be so careless to keep their gates unlocked. “Another weakness of Mingyu’s—” You pointed at the cleared path into the house—”whenever he leaves from the garden, he never locks the gate.”

Vernon could not quite believe it. “Either the wealthy are incredibly secured in their safety, or stupid as fuck.”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you joked, going further into the journey, ushering him over. Like a siren calling his name, he followed you, unaware of the shit you might be getting him into. 

Into the fancy garden they arrived, clean-cut hedges bordering in dozens of flower bushes, peppered also with a few fruit trees—berries of every kind ripening on the green. While Vernon admired the natural luxury, you hurried to the nearby shed, where a ladder was situated right beside it. “Quick, help me out here!” you shouted in a whisper, ushering him over. Dropping the DVD set for a moment, you grunted as you held the large ladder up with his assistance, slowly making its way to the brick wall of the house. “Wait, line it up against that window over there,” you instructed, jerking your head towards the far right window, no doubt on the second floor. Once the ladder was lined up properly, you moved the boy out of the way, shaking the rails to make sure it stayed put. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Vernon muttered, watching you take the Disney Princess set in one hand, the other making the first step on the calendar. “We can still…you know, not commit breaking and entering.” 

“You can happily leave, Mr. Filmbro,” you offered, looking up at your destination. 

That had him scoffing. “My ass is not walking two hours back to my house.” 

“That seems more like a you problem then!” you chirped. “Now are you following me up, or pussying out?”

Once again, pussying out seemed like the obvious choice for the boy. He was not made for missions such as these—he was merely meant to watch other people act out said missions in front of his television. Unfortunately, because he was too far away from the film store, it was either sitting it out, waiting for you to come out and do something diabolical, or at least watch over you should you cross a line (if the latter were the case, then Vernon had already failed). 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he kept uttering like a mantra, waiting for you to climb up enough to hold onto the ladder as he began to follow after you. He made the mistake of looking up as you climbed up, and he got a full, HD view of your ass. He tried his very best to look away out of some semblance of respect, but you also made the mindful decision of wearing the shortest skirt known to man. His fuck, fuck fucks! rang louder, causing you to shush him.

“Stop freaking out, my guy!” you called out, right on the top of the ladder. “I know my ass is crazy built but this is not the time.”

“That’s not why I’m freaking out, _____!” he countered, but knowing you, you did not care for his explanations. He only waited as you pushed open the slight-open window, all the way to the top before climbing inside.

As he reached the top of the ladder, he watched you dust yourself before glancing back at him, ushering him inside. “Here goes nothing,” he said to himself, hands on the top of the window ledge as he put his foot on the sill, pushing himself inside. 

Vernon dropped into the unknown room, an oof! leaving his mouth as he landed rather ungraciously on his feet. Quickly, he looked up, surroundings rather dimmed due to the lack of lighting. Still, with the help of the moonlight, he could slowly make out the huge smart TV in the middle of the bedroom, beneath it a wide shelf filled with DVDs, some opened and scattered on the carpeted floor. The bed was on the opposite side, right next to the window the two of you had entered in, black and gold sheets tousled and unmade.

As you turned the light on, the boy then made out that Mingyu, in fact, did not have a bed frame, but just a mattress, with the sheets barely done properly.  The wall on his left was a full black-shutter closet, where he could see the collection of his designer clothing behind the gaps. Posters were plastered on the rest of the walls, most of them being the Tarantino classics —a reclined, raven-bobbed Uma Thurman watching him with bedroom eyes being the most prominent—with certain papers of autographs also stuck next to the posters. There was another poster—American Beauty and the girl surrounded with rose petals—which had him quickly looking away.

“Jesus,” was all he could say, but he supposed he should not have judged. He himself had only his posters in his room—except he did not have the same taste as a middle-aged incel.

“I know.” You looked around at the familiar space, and the memories you had made here. “Imagine having sex in this hellsite.”

Then the image of you having sex with Mingyu on that messy bed came into his mind, and Vernon could have combusted then and there. “I can’t imagine,” he mumbled out, walking to the door, opening to make sure no one was inside. “_____, are you sure no one’s here?”

“Swear on my life, Mr. Filmbro.”

He had to trust you now—or you had very little respect for your life. 

He kept eyeing the DVD set you had in your hand. “Are you still not gonna tell me what we’re doing with that?”

You marched over to the shelf beneath the TV, settling yourself down. “Come here and I’ll show you.” You patted the empty carpet space next to you for added emphasis.

Hesitantly, he obliged, sitting cross-legged next to you. Finger pointing as it scoured the shelf, you carefully brought out one of the films from Mingyu’s selection, all the while sliding out a Disney film from your own set. “Now, tell me,” you began, as you showed him the two movies. “Do you think The Dark Knight and Mulan are a good match?”

First pulling a face at the choice, he then resorted to keeping his twist of features as he turned to you. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“So like, you know Mulan is a woman disguising herself as a soldier in order to defeat the Huns and save her father’s honour, right,” you explained, though you had a small feeling he was not particularly listening. “And Batman is the same thing, except he dresses up as a fucking bat…stupid furry.”

Vernon could not understand how you compared one of the most beautiful, nuanced depictions of a broken, three-dimensional superhero into a furry, but he needed to get to the bottom of your plan, once and for all. “No, I mean, what are you doing? Why the hell are we here?” 

You tutted extra loud. “I’m gonna swap the CDs, dumbass!” You held up the princess movie. “Thought Mingyu could say to me that Disney princess movies sucked, huh?” Then, the classic DVD’s turn to rise. “Let’s see how he’ll like watching a talking dragon in China instead of a talking bat in Fantasyland!” 

The boy could only watch, shock growing with the successful swap of the movies, the secret Mulan CD safely tucked into the The Dark Knight’s DVD case. “It’s Gotham, actually,” he murmured, but he knew you were not listening. “Wait, _____, we really just snuck into your ex’s house to swap a few movies?”

You looked up briefly as you began opening another DVD case. “I mean, if you want to trash the place, that’s fine, but you can’t do anymore than what Mingyu’s dirty ass hasn’t done already.”

Fair point. “I think you’re going insane. Like, clinically.” He kept looking at the door, which was closed shut. “He’ll kill us if he catches us.” 

“Forget about us, you’re barely doing anything!” you exclaimed, tossing some of Mingyu’s movies to him. “Can you actually help me instead of complaining?”

What he should have done was argue with you properly, perhaps even make his escape and leave you to dig your own grave. Sure, he could not drive, but was it not just three pedals, a wheel and a dream? He could have left, never to see you again. 

But then his eyes wandered to the Inception DVD scattered beside you, no doubt collateral damage as you took out the other Nolan films, and saw a Disney Princess movie sitting beside it. Sleeping Beauty, it read out, with the picture of some skinny blonde chick slumbering with a man overlooking her. He thought it a bit strange, almost creepy how this brunette was watching her. 

And then an idea came into his head. 

He closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, clamping his lips together. Please forgive me, Mr. Nolan, for what I’m about to do. 

Hand reaching out to grasp both DVDs, he opened one of his favourites, unclipping the CD. You glanced at him, swapping the movies around. You could not help your stare lingering a little, watching his lips pout, brows furrowed as he fixed the new CD in the Nolan set, as if the task was a serious one. Well, it was a serious task for you, but you expected more complaining. 

When he looked up, he managed to catch a small smile on your lips before he quickly looked away. “And now you’re slacking,” he accused, closing the DVD and setting it atop the newly improved. 

“What’s the plot for Inception?” you asked him, cracking open The Princess and The Frog. 

“I thought you knew, since you laughed at me for saying it was my favourite.” 

“I don’t know the full thing,” you admitted. “The only reason I knew about it was because Mingyu never shut up about it…sorry about that, by the way.” 

Vernon sighed. “It’s fine…if I made fun of your Disney favourites, then bullying me for Nolan isn’t the worst…I think.” He looked at your new suggestion before picking out Alien from Mingyu’s selection. “A thief has to implant an idea into this powerful guy’s mind, and he does this through infiltrating other people’s dreams. However, he has to be asleep while he does it.” 

As you began to laugh, he threw you an irritated look. You shook your head, unable to erase your smile. “That’s a really good match.” 

His eyes widened for a moment, mouth parting. For a moment (and he did not know whether he was going to regret making this assertion), he did not care for Christopher Nolan’s disrespect, after seeing your reaction.

With that, the two of you sat in near silence, the crisp opening and closing of the DVDs, the sliding of the discs being the only sound between the two of you. The Princess of the Frog was successfully matched with the Alien—you, unsurprisingly, had not watched the movie, but Vernon had watched both (one against his will, which you could guess), and thought it the best match. Brave was slotted into The Revenant's case, while Beauty and the Beast went straight into Pan’s Labyrinth’s. 

“Okay so…” the boy held up the Pocahontas CD. “Native American princess falls for the coloniser? How the fuck are you defending this?”

You could only offer a sheepish smile. “The soundtrack is really good?”

“Knowing Disney,” he crowed, cracking open the DVD, “They probably have a song on how terrible the poor Natives are.”

You eyed him, surprised. “How the hell did you guess that?”

First, Vernon made a face, as if he himself could not believe his excellent intuition. Then, he only laughed a little, taking out the Dances with Wolves DVD from the shelf. “I’ve watched enough Disney movies with my sister to know how they work.”

“Oh, so you have watched them?” you mused, watching him exchange the discs. “All that time I thought you only watched what Mingyu watched.”

“No, I watch foreign indie films like an asshole,” he clarified, shutting the cases, and putting Dances with Wolves back on the shelf. “The thing is, I still have my grievances against the super popular films. You know the list you mentioned to me the other day?” You nodded. “Most of these film junkies get off on those movies. I’ll admit I like them, but I’ve seen so much better.” 

You snorted. “Like Inception?” Vernon watched you for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “What? You asked him, tilting your head. 

He followed your movement—he too, craned his head, his brown curls cascading along his forehead. “Like Inception…and better.”

“Better?” you gasped out, fingers rising to your bottom lip in shock. “Does Mr. Filmbro prefer a movie over Nolan’s grand—no, best release ever?!”

“Ha, ha,” he monotoned, only adding to your amusement. “It’s still his best film! But,” he added, shrugging a little, “I may or may not have lied to you the first time we met. Inception’s not my favourite movie.”

“What?!” you could barely contain your grin. “Oh my God, if I find out it’s a fucking Disney movie, I’m never letting you live it down!”

“Let’s not go that far,” he jeered, earning a harsh nudge of your elbow. “Hey! You should be thanking me for my honesty.”

“How about you extend that honesty and tell me which movie is your favourite?” 

Vernon mocked a ponder. “It’s a hard pass.” 

“Come on!” you pressed, scooting a little closer, almost reaching out as if to nudge him some more. “You’ve already committed a felony with me. Telling me your favourite movie is naturally the next step.” 

“Because that’s obviously how normal human interaction goes,” he countered, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Tell me.” 

“No.”

“Tell me!” 

“Hmm…no!” he repeated, assembling the last of the DVDs. “Maybe if we raid Mingyu’s house next time.”

“Oh?” Leaning closer, you paused his hands on the movie sets. “Do you want there to be a next time?”

It was then Vernon realised the implications of your question, a consequence of his own suggestion. It was almost comical, how his eyes widened like full moons, and he immediately shook his head. “Now you know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Then what did you mean?” you asked him, and the way he exposed a slight stutter at your question had you laughing. “Would you want to see me again?”

What Vernon wanted to tell you was no, no, no, because another second with you would end with all the blood in his system rushing to his head, and other places. Damn everything and everyone, he would want to see you again—no. No. He wouldn’t. He would not. 

“You haven’t answered the question,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

The boy was about to stutter out an answer when the two of you heard a door slam downstairs. 

You whirled back, eyes instantly darting to the door. They then focused back on you, widened very much like his not long ago. “_____,” Vernon muttered. 

“Mr. Filmbro…”

The furrow of his brow appeared for a split-second before it disappeared at the shuffling underneath. “What the fuck do we do?” he gulped out, looking around to find anywhere to escape from. This was it—he thought he was getting away with trespassing just because you had convinced him to, but that fuckass ex-boyfriend was going to catch them in his bedroom, two inches away from kissing you, and—

“Wait,” you then said, catching his wrist in your hand. He barely had time to react to it before you shot up from your seated position, hauling the boy along with you. He stumbled, but then you nearly made him fall flat on his face as you ran to the shutter closets, sliding them straight open. The inside was a mess of branded clothing and boxes of sports equipment, but there was one opening with just enough for two people in trouble to hide. 

You first went in, and, with a harsh tug, pulled him in with you. He crashed into you, but you had enough control to slide the shutter door shut. There was so much commotion that when you both finally stilled, breathing harshly as you heard Mingyu enter the room, Vernon blinked back to see your face about two inches away from him. 

He was going to yelp—strong on going to, because you sensed his incoming shock, and smacked your hand against his mouth. His eyebrows could have touched the top of his forehead, but what you noticed the most was the warmth of his skin, burning the longer your touch lingered on his lips. 

The smile you offered him as you put a finger to your lips had him almost passing out. 

“Yeah, man, come round whenever,” was all Vernon could hear, still not comprehending Mingyu’s speech due to your hand. “No, Minseo’s not here, what the fuck? Why do you wanna know where my sister is?” 

Slowly, ever so carefully as not to alert him, you pulled down on one of the blinds of the shutter, spying the movie which he was about to see. Vernon should have been following your movements, but he could only sense you, inching closer and closer to him till you were pressed against him. Of course, you were only trying to better your vision of your ex-boyfriend, but the boy beside you could not focus. The hand on his mouth—God—he needed, so badly, to be put down. Your fingers were soft, and although his lips could not help brushing against your palm, everything in him resisted the urge to react.

Quickly glancing at your accomplice in glee, you dropped your hand from his mouth, silently urging him to watch. He could have rebelled against your pulling away, but he instead obliged. Bringing his face next to yours, he glanced at you one last time before peering at the vision that welcomed. 

There he was, the golden boy, raking his hair as he strolled into the middle of the room, observing the TV before him, and the DVD player sitting at the bottom. He kept humming, as if agreeing with whoever was on the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go to that party later…no, I’m not bringing _____! You know about that already!” 

The boy in hiding quickly snuck a peek at you, who soured a little at the mention. “Hmm? Yeah, whatever. What? Nah, I’m just gonna watch a chill movie before leaving.” Mingyu scanned the films on his shelf. Walking over, he leaned down, sliding out The Shape of Water from his collection, cradling his phone between his shoulder blade and his craned head as he opened the DVD. 

Vernon could not help pulling a face at Mingyu’s choice of a ‘chill movie’ being a film about a mute woman wanting to fuck a water creature. You probably did not understand the reference, but by the growing anticipation on your face, you only cared about the scene you two had created, and was about to unfold just then. 

Mingyu slid the CD into the player, pressing play as he made his way to his frameless bed, settling down in the sheets. “Yeah…no, no, it’s just starting.”

The two of you could hear clearly the opening credits, which began with the most obnoxious opening music of Disney’s intro. Vernon was taken aback by how Mingyu did not realise it from that very moment, but considering he was too busy chatting pure shit on the phone, laughing to himself, the boy assumed he was simply waiting for the action to occur.

“Any minute now, Mr. Filmbro,” you whispered, oh-so-fucking close to him. He did not respond, merely a nod.

Craning his head to see through the shutters, he noticed the animation come to life, the ship within dangerous waters sailing with uncertainty. He snuck a quick glance at Mingyu’s face, which started garnering a little confusion. 

“Are these extra credit scenes? I don’t remember any of this,” he heard the OG filmbro complain. 

You could not help the snort that escaped you. Vernon glared at you, but with little effect. “What?” you whispered. “I don’t remember him being this thick.” 

“What the fuck is this cartoon…” the two of you heard Mingyu pipe up. Finally, the buffoon is realising this is not the two-time Oscar winning animation, but the four-time Oscar winning CGI. “This wasn’t in the director’s cut.”

You still could not believe how your ex-boyfriend was taking this long for the realisation to hit. Even when Eric jumped up on the screen, holding onto the ship’s ropes, the watcher only regarded the character intently, as if he was somehow part of the stranger film. 

Only when, fifteen minutes in, Atlantis is finally introduced that something clicked in his brain. Mingyu tilted his head, thinking out loud. “What the fuck…?”

Getting up from where he sat, he ended the call, informing whoever was on the other side that he would meet later. He took out the CD from the player, examining its exterior. “Can’t see shit on this CD…” He was not wrong—you were smart, choosing the discs which did not have any images, confusing the boy all the more. “Maybe I put in the wrong one…”

He shrugged it off, taking out The Dark Knight instead, another easy, breezy movie to watch when The Shape of Water did not pull through. Now Nolan was a hard one to criticise—Vernon himself was a huge fan, but seeing Mingyu try to watch it irked him. A good thing, then, was it not, that he was bound for a second surprise?

Repeating the routine, he slid the secret CD, settling back into his frameless bed. “Great minds, huh?” you whispered to him, and Vernon only rolled his eyes, not enjoying the dig against him in the slightest. 

“You dated him,” he griped, watching the movie start up.

“Waste of good looks,” you whispered, your partner-in-crime nodding in agreement. The movie beginning had you both falling silent as a bird of prey hits on one of the soldier’s heads. The scene is set in the cold mountains of China, but the sole audience does not catch it immediately. 

“So fucking weird…” Mingyu trailed off again, leaning forwards. “This isn’t the robbery scene…”

Of course it was not—the idiot would not witness one of the best film openings in Vernon’s humble opinion. He would not feast his eyes to the workings of Joker’s bank robbery, nor the cold one-liners from the incapacitated bank manager. 

No, what he was served was the Huns crossing the Northern border, which, as the boy finally began to clock after a good ten minutes, was not what he was expecting.

“What the…” once again, he heaved himself up, walking over to the player. “Now I know something’s wrong…”

Both you and Vernon stretched further close, as much as the closet would allow, to peek at Mingyu’s frustration as he brought the CD out once more, examining the back and front. He then took out some more of his favourites, opening their cases and taking out the CDs, observing them closely. He was suspicious now. How could he not be, when he was expecting incel excellence, but was greeted with the same shit his younger sister—his crazy ex-girlfriend, even—would usually watch.

He blinked back. 

His deathly stillness had the two trespassers pausing. You two looked at each other, faces losing any humour, perhaps recognising that he had clocked on. You watched the scene as Mingyu rapidly added one CD after another, expecting one movie only to have a Disney-fied replacement, completely botching his plans. Every movie that received such Disneyfication further enraged him, the grit in his teeth heard, the tick in his jaw visible. 

The final straw was when the Godfather was slotted in, his all-time, unmatched favourite. There was darkness for the first few minutes, and he sighed too quickly in relief, about to lay back on his mattress. 

Then, a curly-haired girl, a toddler at best, in huge green glasses becomes visible, being told to open her eyes. 

“Is this where magic comes from?”

“What the fuck?!”

And as a conversation between the little girl and her elderly grandmother blossomed, there was a specific dialogue which sent the young boy over the edge.

“This candle became a magical flame that would never grow out…and it blessed us with a refuge in which to live…a place of wonder…An Encanto.”

You nearly burst out laughing. 

Mingyu, on the other hand, could have seen red. 

“Who fucked with my CDs?!” he demanded to no one in particular, though in his mind he knew there was a culprit. “My fucking CDs, man!” 

“Did you do the Godfather swap?” you whispered, barely able to contain yourself.

“Two special families with one heir that doesn’t feel connected to their lifestyle.” Vernon grinned at you, impressed with himself. “It was too easy.”

“Where did you even find the Encanto DVD? It wasn’t in our set.” 

“I found it in his little filmbro shelf.” He ticked his head towards the boy in physical agony. “My guess is that his sister is a Disney fan and left it in his mancave.”

“Oh my God,” you got out, watching the melodramatic scene of your dear ex show rage akin to a teenage boy losing Call of Duty online. 

“That fucking bitch,” he guttered, over and over again as he threw the Encanto CD across the room. Those words came out, and the boy behind the shutters stiffened. Okay—there is rage, and then there is straight up promise of violence. Vernon may not be much of a knight, but if they were caught, he knew he would have to protect you.

He hoped to everything that existed that it would not have to come to that—Vernon would rather fake having a heart attack and have you drag his body out of the Kim Manor. 

It seemed as that might have been a real possibility, until the boy called out a threat to a name they were not expecting.

“Minseo, I’m gonna kill you!” Mingyu roared as he stormed out of the room, undoubtedly on his way to destroy her room, even take his anger out on her Jellycat collection.

As you heard his frenzy disappear down the halls, the trespassers took this as the opportunity to escape the closet, Vernon already creating a little distance in case you come too close and cause his passing out.

“We need to get out now,” he declared as you crept out of the wardrobe, his head whipping to the door which Mingyu left from. 

You nodded, not quite looking at him as you dashed straight for the final DVD. “Oh, Jesus,” He groaned, watching you scramble for the movie, trying horrifically to hide it within your clothes. “You do realise he can come in any second!” 

“Okay, okay,” you said, hurrying over to the window. “Wait, you can go first.”

Vernon raised a brow, following after you. “How come you don’t want to go first?”

You only ushered him further, grinning. “You can peek at my ass again.”

“My eyes will be closed,” he sniped, already carrying it out, trying his absolute best not to imagine your ass in his mind—maybe stakeouts for goofy purposes were not for the weak-willed. “You know, just for that alone, you’re going down first.” 

“Whatever suits you, Mr. Filmbro,” you almost chanted, aggravating him all the more as you stepped out of the window, beginning the trek down. 

He looked down as you descended with one film in hand, still stealing glances at the only door in the room, terrified that the boy would burst through the door, see you both and bring about his downfall. Subconsciously, his fingers hovered just before his mouth, biting the skin around his nails. He knew he should have run himself over with an oncoming vehicle. A messy plan, but still fool-proof. 

“Stop panicking and come down here!” your voice snapped him out of his anxious frenzy. “I know you’re biting your nails off right now!”

The boy instantly repelled his hand, instead furrowing his brow. A little irritating—scary, as well, really—how predictable he was in your eyes. How quickly you had figured him out.

“Alright,” he said, absent-mindedly as he reached for the windowsill. He peaked down again, not realising how far down the descent truly was. Rationally, he knew it was not the worst drop he’d seen on the first floor, but the nerves had started affecting his mind. Now, this entire time he was watching you take one step, two steps down, but he did not have the strength to follow you. 

Still, he knew it was now or never.

Vernon was going to be at your heels (or, more anatomically correct, at your head) when he heard a shuffle from behind him.

He whipped his head around, anticipating the worst.

The worst arrived in all his golden-skinned, empty-headed glory. Holding one of his DVDs, Kim Mingyu stood at the doorway, his eyes widening with every second they beheld the intruder, one leg out of the house, the other a moment away from heaving him up.

Oh. Jesus. Christ.

“The nerd from film theory?”

Vernon’s face dropped. 

The Nerd from Film Theory? The Nerd from fucking Film Theory? 

It was then and there, in that exact moment of time, that the filmbro in question did not give a single care for what the popular boy thought of him. Vernon knew everything about this boy (whether he wanted to or not); his every class, his every terrible friend, even his film preferences, thanks to yours truly. Yet Mingyu did not even know his name—did not even bother to remember.

It was because of that that he managed to garner some essence of his bravado, finally settling both feet on the ladder steps. 

He also decided to add in some corrections to Mingyu’s knowledge. 

“Jo March did not need any man after Laurie…in fact, she did not need any male support, asshole.”

For added effect, he raised his middle finger, as if the burn was sick enough to hurt. 

Mingyu’s devastating response was a confused tilt of his head, clearly not understanding his reference. 

It was enough time for Vernon to hurry his descent down, catching the former more off guard. 

“What the fuck—” was all the boy heard before he quickly tried to travel downwards, feet nearly slipping on the steps by his sheer carelessness. Mingyu’s head popped out from the window, and saw the great ladder leaning against the sill, shocked gaze lowering to where Vernon was descending to.

When his eyes found yours, he could have choked on his gulp. Even more so when you smirked at him.

“_____?”

As Vernon finally dropped off the ladder, dusting himself off, he watched the two of you, staring each other down. When he gauged Mingyu’s fear of you, there was a small part of him that was filled with admiration.

Mingyu’s demand sounded more like a whimper. “What are you doing here?”

You only curled your lips further upwards, grinning like a wild animal. It chilled your ex-boyfriend to the bone when you held the Tangled CD up for him to see, with your other hand raising your middle finger. 

“This is for calling me a stupid bitch.”

His mouth dropped open. That gave you just enough time to grab onto Vernon’s hand, enveloping your fingers around his wrist. 

And run for your life.

Vernon let out a yelp as he was yanked forward by your hold, barely hearing Mingyu’s loud curses and retreating back into the house, no doubt to follow after you two—the trespasser could only guess, much too occupied by your hand, a guiding beacon of mischief, never absent in his life as you ran and ran and ran out of the garden, out of the sleek maze which you two first entered, catching sight of the open garden gate.

The boy heard distant footsteps coming from the house, and as you both saw your car parked beyond the greater gates, you fished out your keys, finally letting go of his hand to dash over to the driver’s side, jamming the key in the lock. Vernon let out a startled noise as the car unlocked, wasting no time to jump inside, heart beating loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear. Mingyu appeared at the main doorstep at the exact same time, even more shocked to realise he had not noticed his ex-girlfriend’s car casually parked before him. 

Just as you climbed inside, swivelling the keys into ignition, Mingyu began to run after the car, a mere ten seconds between him and catching you two.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _____, just start it already!” the nervous boy in shotgun begged, his head swivelling back at every chance, heart lurching at every metre closer the filmnemesis crept.

The car revved to life at your signal.

It was time to get the fuck out of here. 

“GO, GO, GO!” Vernon screamed at the top of his voice, fisting the handle at the roof of the car as you slammed on the accelerator, racing out of the driveway with Mingyu’s bellowing following after you. Of course, since he was a mere, enraged college student, and you both were in a (slight) state-of-the-art vehicle, you zoomed out of the neighbourhood, his curses fading with every turn further out, you managing to escape. 

Vernon, because he had never done such a thing before, was still screaming to leave for the next ten minutes until you had had enough, swerving to the side of the road, not far from his DVD store. You almost crashed into the nearby park, frightening a few birds that expected peace within the sidewalk trees, only to be disturbed by a troublesome ex and a film-obsessed loser. 

You gushed out an exhale, fingers gripping tightly to the wheel, almost as stunned as the boy beside you, who seemed to take in the town’s worth of air in his little body. But then, you realised the gravity of the situation, the sole movie at the back which could not be swapped, and the valiant escape from something you never thought you would come out of alive.

Just then, you burst into laughter. 

The boy whirled his head to you, who could not stop the tumbles of laughter that escaped your mouth, hanging on to the car wheel as you cackled and cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West. Well, that was what you thought you sounded at that time, but you, as always, did not care.

Only that you were wrong—at least in Vernon’s eyes. You were wrong, because if you were laughing like some Disney villain, then he would have been more pissed off—enraged even. He was instead in awe, shocked at the raw guffawing that spluttered out of you without shame. Had the two of you not evaded a great danger? Nearly been arrested for your legally ambiguous behaviour? 

For the first time in his life, he was not embroiled with dread. 

There was no anxiety in his body, no essence of panic at the consequences of your actions. No, he could only stare at you and your mirth, and find himself raising his brows, the beginnings of a scoffed laugh creeping from his lips. 

The more he looked at you, the more his own laughter joined yours. 

And then you were both laughing, giggling beyond control at the narrow escape, and the near crash against some tree. Vernon knew how stupid this whole situation was, but strangely, he did not seem to care—not when you did not see it like that. A very odd prospect. 

After a few minutes, when it finally seemed as if you would settle down, you sighed, leaning back into the driver’s seat. “We should do that again.”

Despite the amusement lingering, he immediately shut the idea down. “Not a chance.”

You admired the ancient lining of the tree’s bark in front of the car. “The way you were laughing with me just now, you’d think you want to commit crimes from now on.” 

A dramatic roll of eyes. “I’m not going to jail. They don’t even have a TV there.”

“You and your fuck ass movie collection…”

That brought out another chuckle from the boy—you smiled at the notion. He then looked at the rearview mirror, where the last movie was splayed, all alone and away from the others. “Kind of a shame we missed out on one last movie.”

“Right?” You followed his line of sight. “Fuck, Tangled of all movies?”

“Wait, isn’t that the one with Rapunzel?” 

You let out an impressed hum. “A week of seeing my face, and you’re already catching on!” A mischievous raise of brows. “Another month with me and you can sing all the tracks from the film.”

“You really shouldn’t have this much faith in me, _____,” he said, shaking his head. “Plus, this might be the one movie I didn’t watch with Sofe.” He saw you perk up at the new name. “My sister. She’s the one who forced me to watch all those Disney films years ago.”

“I like her already,” you mused, a finger on your chin. You paused for a bit, looking down at your shoes, settled lightly upon the pedals. Then, you started the engine once more.  “So…Tangled is the only one you haven’t watched, huh.” 

A glance at you. “Yep.” 

You looked back, hoping to reverse away from the tree. “Right…” You checked your watch, the car slowly moving out of the pavement. “Interesting…super duper interesting.”

It was something insane, fantastical the way Vernon’s nerves seemed to hum at the implications. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“What? I just said that it’s interesting you’ve never watched Tangled…”

The boy scoffed, crossing his arms. “This is where you’re gonna force me to watch the stupid movie.” 

But then he caught the look of surprise on your face, as if you had been caught. “Oh, Jesus, you’re not gonna let me out the car, are you?”

“No, no!” you countered at once, raising your hands. “Well, yes as in I was hoping you would watch the movie with me, and no, I won’t force you.” You sighed a little, fingers back on the wheel. “You’ve already done so much today. If you want to go home, I’ll drive you straight there.”

He watched your expression, the prepared acceptance, the anticipation—the sliver of hope, hiding itself amongst the flurry of other emotions. In all honesty, he was tired; the entirety of this evening had exhausted his social battery (which he doubted he had to begin with) and he still had some sound image work left back at the college studio. If it was any other person asking, he would have happily bunked them off—pretended that he had suddenly developed a terminal illness in the span of minutes, and begged them to drive him back home to ‘live out the rest of his days’.

You, on the other hand, were a problem. He could not let you down—not anymore. Not after today.

When he let out a soft sigh, you were anticipating the worst. Then, he revealed the answer. 

“Let’s watch a fucking Disney Princess movie.”

VERNON DID NOT WANT TO WATCH A FUCKING DISNEY PRINCESS MOVIE. 

The moment you opened the door to your house—a shabby, student house about twenty minutes from campus—stepping inside, he realised there was no way back, and that he had to humour your wish, or else lose respect in your eyes. 

As you brought him down the small hallway, leading into the little living room, you quickly grabbed the takeout boxes of your flatmates, murmuring hurried apologies as you left the room. The boy looked around, the slight cracks of the blue walls, the 32” TV sitting at the opposite end of the fraying couches. Posters of Bridget Jones, Notting Hill, and other Hugh Grant movies were plastered on one end of the wall, while Vernon nearly had a jumpscare when he caught a life-size cardboard cutout of some Disney hero—this one unrecognisable. 

“That’s the love of my life you’re staring at,” came the voice behind him, and he whirled to see you, a huge bowl of popcorn cradled in your hands. “Why’re you standing in the middle like an idiot? Sit, sit!” Vernon obliged, making to settle on the sofas when you tutted. “Are you mental? No, sit on the bean bags near the TV!” 

How stupid of me to assume I could sit on furniture designed for sitting, he meant to crow, but the moment he settled on the bean bags, he instantly preferred their malleable comfort. When he let out a relaxed sigh, you huffed out a laugh, propping the bowl before him. “See?” 

“I was gonna say…” Vernon trailed off, watching you press a few buttons on the DVD player. “Where’s the CD?”

“Already in,” you said, picking up the remote as you settled in the beanbag next to him, scooting closer. Catching a look at his face, you bellowed, “Yes, Mr. Filmbro, I watched it recently!”

“How recently are we saying?”

“...yesterday evening.” 

“And this is the masterpiece you wanna show me,” Vernon murmured, sneaking a look back at the cardboard cutout. “Don’t tell me he’s the floozy that’s leading the film.” 

You turned the TV on. “Fine. I won’t tell you.”

He then looked at you. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Trust me!” you then reasoned, putting a hand on the boy’s knee—the mere touch had his brain rewiring, nerves all ceasing to work on the one point where your touch remained. You really had to stop—first your hand was on his mouth in that damned (blessed) closet, and now this soft reminder. He tried his best not to fix his eyes on your lingering fingers as you carried on, “This film is a modern classic. I promise.” 

Well shit, he thought. When you looked at him like that, you could have convinced him that Quentin Tarantino was a better foot fetishiser than a filmmaker. 

“Okay,” he said, almost believing in your words. 

With that, the landing page for the movie turned on, and there were the main characters; he assumed the chick with the long, blonde hair was Rapunzel, and the man behind her—which, Vernon thought, did not deserve to be celebrated as a life-sized cardboard cutout—was the love interest. Whatever. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he mumbled as you pressed the fated Play, anticipating the worst. 

And as the two of you fell silent, Vernon still holding out on the popcorn, watching suspiciously at the screen, the voice of a man flooded the TV speaker.

“This…this is the story of how I died.” 

The boy immediately reacted, face dropping. “The fuck?” he got out, catching the WANTED! Poster of the very man he bad-mouthed not two minutes ago. 

“But don’t worry, this is actually a fun story…and the truth is…it isn’t even mine.” 

“Wait, this dude is already dead?” he asked.

“Just watch the movie!” you answered impatiently, making the boy sigh and lean back into the bean bag.

“This is the story of a girl named Rapunzel. And it starts…with the sun.”

You wanted to keep your eyes rooted to the screen, watch the unfurling of Mother Gothel’s backstory, but that was precisely when the incessant complaining began. 

“Now why are we already getting context of some random witch’s actions? Less telling, more showing, man!” Vernon kept his arms crossed, shaking his head at the TV. “Oh, great, poor little king and queen in their big ass castle!” 

“Having basic sympathy will take you great places, my guy,” you merely said, scoffing down the popcorn in the bowl. “Their kid just got stolen by some crazy bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, piping down once more when the flashbacks ceased, and the present day was introduced into the story. On the screen, a small, green chameleon entered, camouflaging himself behind a pot of flowers. He guessed that the chick with the long hair—Rapunzel—would be finding him, and, lo and behold, he was right. In all fairness, though, it did not take a film degree to work that out.

He also did not need a film degree to guess that a musical number was about to be introduced, not even ten minutes into the movie. That he worked out all by himself, when the guitar riffs sounded. Beside him, you instantly brightened, smile widening as TANGLED morphed on the screen, the song about to begin. 

It was around that point when, as he spared you a glance, he realised you were about to sing along.

“Oh, Jesus—”

If his life was a romantic film, this would have been the perfect setup; the girl that made his heart flutter was seated dangerously close to him, bean bags already touching with shoulders barely following, watching the cheesiest animated movie. He could have seen the shot now, with his gaze turning rose-y as you would open your mouth and sing along to the song. Of course, you would sing beautifully, better than the original singer, and he would sit there, absolutely mesmerised. 

Oh, he was stunned alright. 

“SEVEN AM THE USUAL MORNING, LINE UP—!”

The boy flinched at the sheer volume of your chant—screech would be the better word for it, for he guessed singing was not one of your natural talents. 

You could not see his judgement at all, eyes closed and clutching your fists to your chest, continuing the song. “START ON THE FLOOR AND SWEEP TILL THE FLOOR’S ALL CLEEEEEANNNN—!”

A scoff escaped him, not quite believing the scene before him. He was shocked to silence, the movie’s music now in his background, the forefront being your attempt to outsing the princess. Either no one had told you how horrendous your singing was, or you simply did not care for the opinions of others. A part of him hoped that it was the latter—for you to be so comfortable in singing away, despite what others thought, made his judgement disappear. 

Shamelessly you sang the entire number, up to the point where the scene cuts and the supposedly hot love interest—whose name was Flynn Rider, apparently, which he should have known if he just read the poster at the start of the movie like a normal viewer—was now trying to steal the crown jewels. 

Vernon was too busy thinking about how stupid ‘Flynn Rider’ was as a name to realise that another song had just started. Immediately you changed your tune, your tone lowering, almost sultry. 

This time, you looked at him when you started singing. 

“Look at you, as fragile as a flower…”

“Ayo?” A glance at the TV screen, where Mother Gothel was now singing. “Another song?”

But you did not answer his question, only singing further as you reached your hand out to him. “Still a little sapling, just a sprout!” You continued, and, at that, your hand patted his mess of curls atop his head, mirroring Mother Gothel’s actions. 

Blinking back repeatedly, he could not even shrug it off, stunned once again by how you were casually able to touch him and not feel anything—while his entire system shuts down like a lagging desktop when it tries to run the Sims. 

The overdramatic flair was present in your singing, changed from the sweetness of the previous song. It was crazy how you remembered each word, not slipping at any chorus—you were a true fan, a committed admirer of the film. Even he could not comprehend knowing every single line of his favourites. 

It was admirable indeed—to love a film as you did this one.

It was what made Vernon smile a little, turning away from your melodrama and focusing on the screen, where Mother Gothel now threatened to never be asked to leave the tower. Again.

This time, he would give the movie a chance. Thank God he decided to wake up.

The movie picked up the pace instantly—he had not expected Flynn to meet—and be whacked out by Rapunzel’s frying pan—so quickly, and had reflected her dejection when the mother screamed at her. He could tell where this was going, especially with the thief now in the closet, but he found himself grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl without turning away from the screen.

By the time the third song of the movie came around, he was taken aback that it arrived further in, surrounded by the thugs of the Snuggly Duckling. Without realising, he turned to you, anticipating you breaking out into a song, but you were merely watching the movie, bobbing your head along to the beat.

Noticing his stare, you glanced at him. “Expecting a show?”

“Since you were giving them out without request, I figured this time would be like any other.”

You snorted, grabbing the popcorn. “I’m saving my heavenly voice for the best song, actually.”

Vernon mocked a gasp. “So you’re telling me Mother Knows Best isn’t the best feature?”

“Don’t chat shit, Mr. Filmbro, because Mother Knows Best is one of the top five.”

“I look forward to seeing which song you’re holding out for,” he only said, turning back to the movie again. The popcorn ran out about this time, and you shot up from your bean bag, promising more as you exited the room, leaving him to continue. 

By the time you returned, the protagonists were escaping, chaos ensuing all around them with the guards, his partners and that eccentric white horse chasing them. Ending up in the cave, they recognise a lack of way out, and although Vernon was aware that the movie ends on the happiest note, a small part of him filled with dread. 

That dread disappeared instantly when Flynn confessed his little secret.

“Eugene Fitzherbert?!” The boy demanded.

You chuckled at his disdain. “Yeah, Flynn Rider was hotter. Eugene Fitzherbert ages him about forty years.”

“Flynn Rider was silly, but Eugene is straight up diabolical.” 

“He is still fuckable regardless!” you shushed him, raising your pointer at him. “You wish you had his sex appeal.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let me just change my name to Bartholomew Whiteman real quick.”

“Hey!” you whacked him on the arm, this time laughing heartily at his quip. “Let my man live!”

He decided to spare your fictional man any more bullying, taking in the town atmosphere where the two adventurers and Maximus had now ended up. “Ooooo, the castle dances are my favourite scenes!” you gushed, scooping popcorn in one hand and eating with the other. “Wait, look, look at the braid!”

“Jeez, I’m looking!” he insisted, watching the girls braid Rapunzel’s hair. Flynn—which Vernon is continuing to identify him as, because Eugene was too much for him—stared at her longingly at the results. Vernon used the popcorn as an excuse to gaze at you matching Flynn’s longing at the screen. Your head rested on your knees, locking your hands in front of them, forming a lazy smile. This smile remained throughout Rapunzel and Eugene’s activities, even to the point when the couple were settled in a boat, waiting for the lights. 

“It’s happening,” you declared, the smile widening as you released your legs from your hands. “Oh my God, it’s fucking happening!”

Raising the volume, the boy watched the screen, where thousands of lanterns were sparking alight at the king and queen’s signal. The lanterns’ lights broke across the borders of the town, melting into the sea, the docked ships. Rapunzel had not noticed though, too busy dropping flower heads upon the water’s surface, Flynn helpfully holding out the bunch. 

As the princess dropped another upon the waterbed, she finally noticed the beginning.

It was then Vernon heard your favourite Disney song.

“All those days, watching from the window…All those years, outside looking in…” 

You followed this time, not as loud as the other songs, quiet and soft, as if letting the blonde shine in her song. “All that time, never even knowing, just how blind I’ve been…”” 

You exhibited the same excitement as Rapunzel, who, noticing the lanterns, threw off Flynn’s balance, hanging onto the curling bow of the boat.

The boy, however, was not really focused on the screen.

Because the music that surrounded the two crept into his ears, playing the strings of his senses; because the lights were off save for the TV, shining its dimmed lighting upon your face, making you glow with the dark purples, blues, golds of the Tangled scenery. He lost all interest in everything because you were looking something out of a daydream, watching the events of the movie as if they were scenes of salvation. The two of you were definitely not on any kind of boat, merely sitting on bean bags. Despite all of that, he began to float—swaying from where he sat, as if he was truly settled on water. 

“Now I’m here—” You put your hand to your chest— “Blinking in the starlight…now I’m here, suddenly I see…”

You kept singing the lyrics, voice more subdued than your last outbursts, and Vernon could only watch you, the pure love of this song radiating off your very pores. Vernon’s anticipation rose with every octave of the singer’s voice rising, eyes never leaving your face, the parted mouth. 

“Standing here, it’s oh! so clear…!”

As the viewers themselves were about to observe the thousands of lanterns Rapunzel witnessed, Vernon himself waiting, he made the mistake of averting his gaze from you, if only to see the grand reveal.

It was what made you unconsciously envelop your fingers with his, clasping his hand with yours.

He whipped his head to yours, eyes widening to the point of spilling. 

You were already looking at him. 

When you sang the next lyrics, Vernon could have melted molten.

“I’m where I’m meant to be!” 

And as the lanterns surrounded the protagonists, lighting up the entirety of the night, you sang the chorus to the boy in your little college flat, no one to witness it but two of you.

“And at last I see the light! And it’s like the fog has lifted!” 

Your voice was hoarse now, all the screech-singing catching up to you. Vernon, in another lifetime, would have instantly resisted, ran for the hills if it was literally anyone else in the room but you.

“And at last I see the light! And it’s like the sky…is new…” 

But it was you—you holding his hand tightly, you looking at him with the light of the lanterns in your eyes, you opening up to him in your little haven, away from anyone else. Granted, you could have offered this performance to anyone, but he liked to think—shit, he was truly hoping—that you would not have done this for anyone else. 

You would have only sang your favourite song to him. 

“And it’s warm, and real, and bright! And the world has somehow…shifted…”

Vernon watched you halt a moment, waiting for the next verse, your hand tightening in his. 

“All at once…everything looks different…”

You were right—the world had shifted underneath him, stilled under the dimmed lighting of this dingy living room. The two of you now faced each other, music still tuning from the TV, but the characters long forgotten, as if they never existed. Yes, you were right in that everything looked different, seemed different, as if he was seeing you for the very first time. 

“Now that I…see you.”

Shit. You were rather beautiful before him.

You paused then, watching his reaction. You tilted your head, thoroughly amused by the sheer awe that radiated from his face, but then you noticed his chest rise and fall, more unevenly the longer you observed him. 

The next detail you caught was how his eyes darted down—down to your lips.

It was the lips, which were watched so intently, that parted.

You attempted at a little humour. “Out of all my talents, I guess singing isn’t one of them.”

But Vernon did not respond with words. Sure, he would have agreed with you, but singing was irrelevant now. Out of all these infinite talents you possessed—your natural charm, your ease in making him laugh, your trespassing and eventual escaping of such crimes—Vernon could not have given less of a shit about singing. Not when you were before him, bathed in an unnatural, extraordinary light, soft music playing in the background. Almost as if he had adorned the rose-tinted glasses, courtesy of the universe.

In any romantic comedy, he would have kissed her.

The boy was not known to be courageous—anything but brave. Real Life, Not Clickbait Vernon would have left by now. The Real Vernon should have pussied out. 

You, however, looked a little too beautiful to be treated with cowardice. 

“Are you going to kiss me, Mr. Filmbro, or are you gonna make me wait till the end of the movie?”

He parted his mouth for a split second, gob-smacked at your question. The twinkle in your gaze, though, had him spluttering out a harsh chuckle, craning his head down at the sheer absurdity of it all. But then he looked up, smiling, not quite believing what he was about to do.

“I should make you wait.”

That was what he said. What Vernon instead did was finally grow the two balls that were supposed to be hidden in his pants, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. 

Now the boy always wondered whether the movies were right—when mouths would touch, move against each other, whether a fire would ignite between souls, whether one really felt as if they were not of this world.

It seemed like Hallmark-level bullshit to him, but the moment his lips touched yours, he began to float out of this room. A soft hum reverated from you, approval at his actions, and he could have burst as he felt you smile against him. 

Maybe Disney was right. God, he really did not want to be in such accord with that stupid corporation, but they were onto something with the fireworks, the orchestral singing when couples kiss. He himself felt a choir-like chant all around him as he brought his hand to your face, angling it slightly so he could gain better access, boost your pleasure as he delved slightly deeper.

He was unstoppable. He was alive and ecstatic and delirious, opening his mouth wider, his other hand now finding your waist, snuffing out any distance between you two. It was not like he was a pro in these situations—he had only ever had one serious girlfriend, and that was at an age where a boy could get away with merely ‘french-kissing’ (as the kids back then would have gloated) your significant other. Again, he may have fooled around a little in college, too, but never had he experienced this haze of lust, this newfound desire. 

This desire enhanced further when you slipped your tongue from the seams, sliding it along his as an invitation for more, and he could have honestly thanked that heinous hag Walt Disney for making movies you adored so much, to the point of showing him and landing him in this situation. Of course he indulged you, opening his mouth enough to let you inside. The sensation of your tongue slipping past his lips had a soft noise releasing from his throat. 

Tangled was all but forgotten, the two of you too occupied being entangled with each other. You pulled him even closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair. The soft touches had every strand of his locks standing on edge, a wave of delight washing over him. 

You were sagged into the bean bag, Vernon’s weight upon you sinking you further, but you did not mind it—relished it, his scent engulfing you, the sighs and soft murmurs of his every exhale haunting your eardrums. Who would have thought that a boy who could recite every Joker quote from The Dark Knight—Virgin Supremism you termed the talent—had this kind of game hidden underneath? How was he able to ignite such powerful emotions from you?

How was Vernon ‘Filmbro’ Chwe able to make you feel so good you did not realise Tangled finishing right before you?

The two of you could have spent all night intertwined in each other, perhaps would have gone past the boundaries of mere making out. However, between the haze of his soft whispers to you, your own mist swimming in your head, you heard the starting music of the DVD reverting to the home page, and like instinct you opened your eyes, finding that the movie had ended.

You must have paused, because Vernon immediately stopped, concern staining his pretty features. His knitted brow, eyes laced with nervousness, shamed you for ever stopping. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Oh, no, no!” You felt like a fool for the answer you attempted to give him. “It’s just, um…”

He followed your line of sight, turning around. Once he realised, he looked back at you, you surprised to find a little shock replacing his concern. “We were going for that long?”

Your smirk had his stomach knotting. “This is what happens when you make out with someone you like, Mr. Filmbro.” 

He could not respond, looking away as his flushed face managed to redden some more. You only laughed at him, playing with the hem of his shirt, his arms still steady as they caged you. “You are so lucky, you know.”

He quirked a brow. “And why is that?” 

“I would never miss the second half of Tangled for a man.”

It was so incredibly stupid, how he felt a semblance of pride at the notion.“Happy to know I’m an exception.”

“You do know I’m gonna make you watch it again so you can say you’ve watched it.”

Vernon tilted his head to the side, lost in thought. You watched him, anticipating. “This is the part where you say you’d rather Mingyu jump you than rewatch Tangled.” 

“Well yes, but…” He glanced over his shoulder, where your shelf of DVDs were stacked, a particular movie which had caught his eye previously now standing out all the more. “I, uh…” 

He looked back at you, and the self-conscious glint in his gaze had you watching his every movement. “I was hoping to show you my favourite movie instead.”

You were ready to make a comment on how you prided on avoiding Nolan films like the plague, but then you remembered the conversation at Mingyu’s house. Your eyebrows could have touched your hairline. “You said I could never know.”

“Well…” a small smile escaped him, slowly pulling himself away. “If I am to be your exception, _____, then I suppose you can be mine.”

Gaping at him, you could only keep silent as he, with great effort on his part, heaved off you, making his way to the shelf. He was lucky, you thought—had he been a moment slower, that comment alone would have had you kissing him again. 

What quickly caught your attention was him sliding his pointer finger through your collection, a series of your favourites. The anticipation was rising, you not quite believing that Mr. Filmbro’s favourite film was within your arsenal. Weeks ago, you would have bullied him relentlessly for the ironic hypocrisy.

When he pulled out the fated DVD, you let out the greatest laugh.

The boy instantly frowned, but you did not realise, cackling and cackling away at the selection, the final boss of Vernon’s favourite film, nestled between his fingers. “Shut up,” he mumbled, but again, you did not hear him, lost in the shrill sound of your laughter, erupting the room to life. 

“Oh, Jesus—” Your chortling did not seem to stop, almost to the point of hiccups. “Your ass…this entire time—!”

“And suddenly I’m leaving!” Vernon announced, getting up and about to drop the DVD. 

He did not last long in his determination when you grabbed onto the end of his shirt, grinning still. “Thank God you’re not a Nolan kiss-ass…that’s all I’m saying.”

All he could do was stand like an idiot, the tips of your fingers caressing the skin just above his trousers. “But I am a Nolan kiss-ass,” he murmured, crossing his arms. 

“That’s what I thought, too, but this film—” you jerked your head towards the prize in his hand. “You’ve redeemed yourself.”

“Stop it,” he only said, crouching down to pull out the Tangled CD, replacing it with the new, and, in his opinion, improved movie. “This is why I didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“And nobody will know,” you assured him, watching the movie’s main menu pop up, the PLAY option highlighted. “This’ll be our secret.”

“First the trespassing,” Vernon began, sitting down beside you, “Then the tampering of movies, and now this.” He grabbed the remote, about to play the movie. “How much more are we gonna sneak around?”

You looked at him, and the smile you offered him had him glancing away—only for a second. “Have you not had fun, though? Sneaking around with me?”

Normally, in a situation where he had zero balls, he would have evaded such a question, not fanned the flames of your fire. But tonight he had watched a Disney movie with you, felt your fingers caressing his skin, had even kissed you in the purple hues of Tangled’s light. Tonight, he could conquer the world.

What would answering a heated question do any harm?

Vernon locked eyes with you then, trying to fight his smile. “I think I could have fun with you anywhere…in secret or for anyone to see.”

As something in your gaze shifted, he turned the film on (an entendre which was completely intentional). 

Once again, the two of you were in the same position, watching yet another film, this time another’s all time favourite. The narrator began in a strange, European accent, explaining the tale of an unfortunate princess, much like Rapunzel, and her dire situation. 

Although it was undoubtedly his most treasured film, the boy had a very hard time paying attention when all he could feel was that penetrating stare of yours, capable of revealing his very soul from beneath his measly shirt. Even when the stranger main character was introduced, following his main routine in his strangest abode, Vernon was not particularly concentrating anymore.

Not when he heard your voice, a soft question amongst the gaudy music of the 2000s. “Do you mean that, Vernon?”

And perhaps it was because you said his actual name, especially when your voice sounded like…like that. Like something from a perfect movie soundtrack, akin to the end-credits of an unforgettable TV show. 

Because he was too occupied with simply admiring you, he merely nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

And because you were too busy admiring him, his words, the entire night where you had felt pure, euphoric joy, you did Mr. Filmbro a little dirty by making a decision that negated his film.

You shifted closer once more, hands reaching out to hold his face. 

This time, Vernon was prepared when you kissed him.

There was a certain eagerness in your lips this time which was newer—more enjoyable to his senses. It made sense now, why all these couples in movies made out for hours and hours on end. He felt as if he could kiss you forever, move against your mouth, delve inside until his tongue memorised your very imprint. 

You moaned a little louder this time, and the very sound had his heartbeat racing, moreso when, as he pressed you against him, shifting upon his beanbag, he knew then and there that something in the air shifted.

Last time, you had stopped. This time, there was no such indication—the very thought had him skirting his hands around you, holding you tight enough to never let go.

Still—even with such possibilities, there was no way you and him would escalate to the point of losing his virginity.

Whatever happens though, he will still watch the end of his favourite film. 

Whatever happens, Vernon would not be having sex with you if Shrek was playing in the background.

VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.

Certainly not his greatest achievements, considering he could not focus on his favourite movie, but it was certainly not his fault. You were—to put it quite plainly—hot as fuck.

He did not leave until the very next day because—as he had stated that night—he still wanted you to watch Shrek, and did, somehow, end up watching it properly. You did not stop teasing him, and he did not stop shutting you up by kissing you senseless. 

Unfortunately, the boy did have college the next day, so he had to leave at some point, but not without promises of meeting you again. This time, however, you two did not continue the crimes he committed with you. You and Vernon were not modern-day Joker and Harley Quinn.

When the two of you were not terrorising Mingyu’s livelihood, you decided to hang out at the filmstore, where it all began. Vernon would host weekly movie nights, and both of you would eat popcorn and watch each other’s recommendations, scoring them differently in accordance to what was most important for each other.

For the film majoring student, the rating was influenced not only by the actors’ performances, but also from the intricate storyline, the character developments, their relationships. A story, for him at least, was about relationships. Good cinema was about the chemistry between two actors, the emotional connection they had not just with each other, but also their effect on the audience. The actual editing of the film, too, was another bullet point in his criteria.

Your rating, on the other hand, differed slightly. 

“Michelle Yeoh is such a MILF,” was your only comment upon finishing Everything Everywhere All at Once. 

This comment nearly made Vernon lose his mind. “One of the greatest movies of this decade, and this is your only input?”

“But am I wrong, though?”

Vernon sighed a little at that—at the end of the day, you were absolutely in the right. There was a reason Crazy Rich Asians went platinum in his dingy little room. 

Of course, it was not just his personal recommendations that played. You had compiled a list of your all-time favourites, going beyond Disney’s borders, and Vernon was introduced to the dashing timeless genre of the rom-com. Now having a younger sister who (he thought) was a basic bitch meant he did possess some knowledge of the genre, but he had never really sat down and watched a rom-com without falling asleep in Sofia’s bed. 

For you, though, he braved the most famous romances, which he found himself enjoying more than he would have liked—more so when he found one of his favoured actors in 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Heath Ledger singing was something I never thought I needed,” Vernon commented as the ferocious couple finally kissed. 

“And this is the same fella who was the Joker in your little Nolan film,” you reminded him, as if he was not aware already. “Oh, and he was the gay cowboy in that movie.”

“Gay cowboy?” His confusion lasted for approximately thirty seconds before he groaned, pushing you over on your beanbag. “My god, are you talking about Brokeback Mountain?”

“Yes, that one!” you exclaimed, picking up the TV remote. “My guy has range, but him as a high schooler is still my favourite role.”

“You do realise how bad that sounds, right?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, waving him off as you began searching for the next movie. “Now, Two Weeks’ Notice or The Proposal?”

Vernon endeavoured to weigh in on the options. “Which one do you think I’d like?”

“Well, both have Sandra Bullock in them…”

He looked over both DVDs. “Now that’s a white woman I can get behind.” 

You scooched a little over to him, locking your hands together. “We can watch something you like…” When he knitted his brows together, not quite answering you, you went on, almost unable to look him in the eye. “You’ve been super nice, you know…sitting through all my favourites.” 

The boy could not help it, unable to let a smirk slip. “Is this _____ appreciating me for once?” The beginnings of his shit-eating attitude did not develop, since your smack on his arm completely snuffed it out. “Ow, damn!”

“You deserved that,” you muttered, beginning to scoot away until Vernon’s hand on your wrist stopped you. 

When you focused your gaze at him, he already beat you to it. “Let’s watch both today.” 

It was silly, how that made your heart beat faster. “Really? You would watch two rom-coms in a row?”

As his hand pulled you closer, his stare had you almost—almost—nervous. “I’ve done worse for you.”

“Very true,” you said, absent-minded, more lost in the twinkle of his eyes. “Very, uh…good point.”

Vernon thanked all the higher bodies that may have existed for the pure, unadulterated rizz he was attempting to spew. “I’m full of good points,” he crowed. “Now, are you going to stare at me all night, or are we going to watch Sandra Bullock?”

Although your cheeks burned, you pushed him off, earning a chuckle from him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mr. Filmbro. The only man I’ll be staring at will be Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal.”

All of the boy’s suave attitude dissipated at his shock. “The Deadpool guy?!”

“Ryan Reynolds did have range before,” you explained, shaking your head. “Then the superhero bug bit him.”

“What a shame,” he only said, as if Vernon did not follow the Deadpool universe to the point of possessing special editioned comics in his room. Still, he happily slotted the CD inside the player, and excused himself to make more popcorn for the two of you.

As the boy prepared snacks, glancing back every time at the opening scene, he managed to sneak a look at you, eagerly watching the screen. 

He could only smile, putting all the popcorn in the huge bowl before hurrying back to you. 

THIS WAS PROBABLY THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT TO A CINEMA. PERHAPS THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT AT ALL.

Admittedly, it was not as if you had intended to go into the cinema in formal attire—or, at least the only formal clothing you had. Your first plan was to steal something from your father’s wardrobe, but when you tried it on, it did not fit properly, and you refused to look like an idiot in public.

Not that you cared much about looking like an idiot in public before, but there was another person to look out for. And that person, although had already done embarrassing enough actions for you, did not want to push it further. One more ceremonious act of humiliation, and Vernon would have run a thousand miles from you—or that was what you thought. 

You observed your cinema fit one last time before your bathroom mirror, fixing the lapels for the nth time. Your rented three-piece suit was almost a second skin, waistcoat snug underneath the tweed jacket, matching coloured trousers adorned alongside. You borrowed some Oxford brogues from a friend, which made you realise that you had more posh friends than you knew. You tried to find a hat similar to the one Cillian Murphy wore in the promotions, but because you did not have the wardrobe of a middle aged man, you resorted to let your head rest. 

All of this elaborate planning to see Nolan’s (apparently) greatest release yet—Oppenheimer. 

Because the cinema was not far away from you, you decided to walk, messaging your date to let him know that you were on your way. You were certain he was already there in the cinema; Vernon, since you had started hanging out more with him, had only ever talked about Nolan’s upcoming epic. You swore if you recited the IMDB plot out to him during sex, he would have spunked within minutes (a mental note to experiment on that later). His excitement had you booking midnight release tickets, which consequently made him so happy you thought you had invited Nolan to the town cinema. 

The night, furthering along, had beautified the black sky, stars twinkling on your journey. The consistent vibrations from your phone indicated the boy’s imminent excitement, and you smiled, double-checking your formal attire once more. You would have romanticised the nighttime further but living in student area brought you right back to fearing slightly for your life, so you quickened your step, cinema already a close speck in the distance. 

You knew you were nearer to the destination when the flocks of pink and black grew, the cowboy hats and fake pipes all piling up in your vision. Seeing the pink reminded you of Barbie’s influence, also being released tonight alongside the more serious counterpart. 

A small part of you really wanted to see the midnight release for the new movie. The original plan most people were following was either to watch Oppenheimer and then Barbie, or the other way around. You were so close to procuring tickets for the latter, but decided that it was important to accompany Vernon to the seemingly bigger release. After all, you were never as excited about films as the dear film major you had rather grown to like.

Another vibration of your phone, and you finally decided to stop ignoring said-film major and text him, possibly informing you of his arrival.

mr. filmbro: yo where u at

mr. filmbro: they’re too many pink mfs out here im getting suffocated

You rolled your eyes.

_____: im coming to save u kitten.

mr. filmbro: :0

Once you were inside, it was a complete sea of pink and black and grey. Two sides, which one would assume would be opposing, were all celebrating, sharing their drinks, anticipating when the theatre doors would open to let everyone in. Within this myriad of fans, you tried to search for the most mentally ill one—the one who you were certain had a finer three-piece set than you, who would have happily stolen Cillian Murphy’s set clothes to truly honour the movie. 

Strangely enough, after a few minutes, you could not find him, even after confirming your seats. You searched for anyone wearing anything devoid of colour, but did not find the boy. This time, you decided to bother him, calling him and pressing the phone to your ear. 

“Where are you, kitten?” you purposely growled, lowering your voice an octave. “Daddy’s waiting.”

“Kitten actually killed himself after hearing that,” was his purposeful monotone. 

“Can you resurrect yourself for me real quick? I’m tryna find where you are.” 

“I’m next to the Oppenheimer popup.” Immediately you tried to find it, scouring through the crowds. “I figured you’d find me easier.”

Scoffing, you ignored the Barbie stalls, walking further ahead. “How very smart of you to wear Oppenheimer clothing while standing next to it. So much easier to find you, isn’t it?”

He did not retort back, instead inciting your excitement. “Wait, I think I can see you…?”

Your eyes darted over to the fresh faces of the Nolan fans, all taking pictures of the cast pop-ups. What you were observing were the men and women, all lack of colour. 

What your gaze ended up on was someone completely different. 

What you were expecting was a mini-Oppenheimer, the too-large blazer, the sashed hat upon pretty brown curls. What you received instead was a boy engulfed in all the pinks of the colour wheel.

Pink was the colour of his top, bubblegum pink the colour of the stringy fur coat sporting over said shirt. Magenta was the colour of his flared trousers, whilst rose was the colour of his converse. What topped off the entire look was the hot pink cowboy hat, sitting perfectly upon his wavy locks, completing his fit—a fit which was perfect for the Barbie movie. 

It was around that point that he caught on to your stare—through the oceans of opposing fans, he, too, finally found you.

Vernon heard your curse murmur through the phone. “Oh my fucking God.”

That was when his own gaze roamed over you, shocked and shameless amongst the crowds. Not that the crowds mattered, not anymore. He was a little nervous, he had to admit it to himself, only because there were so many people, and they were only watching for the fad, for the trend. A part of him wanted just you and him in this midnight cinema, the biggest official date yet. 

But then seeing you here, in all your black-clad, Oppenheimered glory, had stunned him to his core. Although he had specifically brought you here to watch the movie, he had completely expected you to arrive in the pinkmania fit. Because you had kindly booked tickets for his anticipated film, he thought at least to participate in the Barbie craze fit.

It was like instinct, how his steps gravitated towards you, his phone still pressed against his ear, very much like you. You followed him slowly, hearing his ragged breaths through the speaker, watching him walk closer and closer until you both were a mere couple of feet away.

Only then did you drop the call, your hands at your sides as you admired him. It was a while before any of you spoke. 

Like always, you spoke first. “Tell me the fur coat is yours.”

A ghost of a smirk. “Sofia’s.”

“Stealing’s like second nature to you now, isn’t it?” you taunted. 

Like always, he dodged your taunts. “I thought you were gonna wear all pink.”

“I thought you were gonna wear all black.”

He tilted his head. “Well, I thought since we were watching both movies…”

Your confusion was clear, the corner of his lips curling further up. “Wasn’t Oppenheimer first?”

He then went inside his flared trouser pockets, fishing out two tickets—its colours matching his outfit. “I know how much you wanted to see Margot Robbie be silly.” 

“I did!” you exclaimed, taking the tickets from him, admiring how pretty they were designed, especially when compared to the Oppenheimer marketing tickets. In your admiration, though, you noticed a detail which had your excitement faltering. “Wait, are you sure? It says the movie’s at the same time.”

Vernon then checked the timings, mouth parting. “Oh shit. Didn’t think about that.” He shook his head, mouth straightening in a line, dejected. “This is what happens when I try to do something romantic.”

“I have to give points for effort,” you offered, bringing your hands to his wrist. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s watch Oppenheimer, honestly. Cillian Murphy is still hot when he’s old.”

“No, no,” he countered, clasping your hands on his wrist. “It’s chill.” He glanced down. “Let’s do Barbie first.”

You attempted to argue him on this, but he simply let go of your hands, with his one hand wrapping around your waist, and the other hand’s wrist being checked for the time. You bit back a smile at his mere actions, relishing his fingers skirting under the suit, the waistcoat. “Vernon,” you attempted. 

“_____,” he said back, staring at you with an awe that you would have deserved had you worn a couture gown, not some rented hand-me-downs. 

You knew he would not take no for an answer now. “But what about Oppenheimer?” you asked anyway as the two of you made your way to the cinema. 

Vernon only pretended to think extremely deeply of the situation, making you elbow him playfully. “Now tell me, Dear Disney Hag, how did we enter Mingyu’s house?”

“Why, we walked straight in!” you answered like an over-enthusiastic student, in which he sarcastically clapped for you. 

“Right on.” As you both walked towards the Barbie theatre, the opposing movie was being screened right beside you, where people were bursting in. “See how everyone is walking in right now?” He gave you a knowing glance. 

That knowing glance had you scoffing in excited disbelief. “My God! Look at you, all ready to commit crimes!” you looped a hand around his arm. “I have taught you well, young man.”

He patted your arm. “Mr. Filmbro has come a long way from chatting shit about your movie taste.”

“So you admit it?” you leaned in. “Disney makes better movies than your flop directors?”

“That’s a completely different claim,” he clarified. “My taste in films is objectively better.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact you're watching the Barbie movie before Oppenheimer.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging you closer. “That’s ‘cause I like you a lot, Disney Hag…”

You did not stop your smile from lighting up your entire face. “You’re not the most insufferable filmbro I’ve dated I guess…”

”I better be the last filmbro you date,” he muttered, watching over the last of the crowds, where they now stood, waiting to enter the theatre.

The longer you waited to answer him, the more incredulous his face became, brows knotted in disbelief. You only chuckled, leaning in and pressing your lips upon his. Of course, he was taken aback, but surprises like these were pleasant, welcomed with open arms as Vernon closed his eyes, pulling you in. 

The moment the line started quickening you broke away, only to make sure no one skipped in front of you and him, and thus deal with yours and his passive aggression. You could not help the giggle that escaped you at breaking away from his lips, relishing in his dazed state. 

Honestly—you truly would not have minded being anywhere with him.

When it was finally your turn to go inside the Barbie screening, you held tightly to his hand. “Let’s go, Mr. Filmbro.”

Vernon only smiled. “Right behind you, _____.”

And as the two of you entered the theatre, hand-in-hand, the boy learned that perhaps he, too, would have gone anywhere with you. 

[rafedaddy01]

Rafe has been obsessed with his assistant y/n ass

And she knows it

He always looks at it and even "accidentally "brushed his hand across her butt

Of course he is happily married so nothing has happened between them

Until now

Y/n walks into his office late in the evening

Slowly taking of all of her clothes telling him:

" Please f my ass sir"

-

You’ve seen the way your bosses eyes occasionally drop down to your ass and the way he ‘accidentally’ brushes his hands against your behind whenever he can. You also know that he’s happily married and would never lay a finger on you himself, which is why you’re standing in his office late at night when everybody has already gone home.

“Y/n, it’s late. Why haven’t you gone home” Rafes eyes are glued onto his computer screen but immediately look up when you shut his door and lock it. “”Y/n?” He clears his throat as he eyes your body up and down, watching as you reach over and pull the blinds closed.

“Just needed one more thing for the night, sir” you step closer to his desk and slowly start pulling your dress down until your standing in only the black lingerie you put on this morning. “Will you fuck my ass, sir?” You flutter your little lashes as you watch Rafes cheeks blush up red.

He pushes his chair back from his desk, standing and walking closer to you, “since you asked so nicely”

“Thank you, sir” you smile as you turn around and wiggle your ass at him, looking behind your shoulder and enticing him further.

“My god” he says under his breath as his eyes fall from your face to the material wrapped tightly around your flesh.

He wasted no time reaching out and palming your ass, his fingers leaving indents as he squishes the skin before pulling his hand back and swatting you, watching it jiggle and loving the little yelp that escapes you. He holds your ass with one hand as the other reaches for his belt, undoing it and pulling it from the loops of his dress pants. You watch his every move as he grabs your wrists, pins them behind your back and ties his belt around them. He brings you to his desk and pushes you down onto it, your face presses against the cool metal and your breathing picks up as you hear the zipper of his pants being pulled down.

He pulls the little panties off your body and groans as he takes in your naked skin. “Please, sir” you wiggle your ass, inpatient and ready to take what he’s about to give to you.

He doesn’t say a word but you feel his fingers touch you. You hear him spit against your tight ring and feel it dribble down as he pushes a finger into you and you wince then moan as he continues stimulating you.

He continues warming you up, shoving a second finger alongside the first as he feels you relax under him. You’re already a moaning mess, your pussy pulsating around nothing as you grow wetter by the second at the thought of what’s to come.

He pulls his fingers out, pushing your legs wider with his knees as his hands play with your ass. Palming the flesh and slapping it just to hear you gasp and watch the flesh jiggle before his eyes.

He grips the base of his freed cock with one hand and taps his tip against your hole. You moan at the small sensation.

“Rafe” you breath out a moan “please, sir. I need it” you groan as you feel him start to slowly push his tip in.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you fucking want” he grits as he feels your tightness start to envelope him, sucking him in.

He pushes all the way in, groaning at how tight you are. You moan his name and curses as he bottoms out and stays still for a minute to take it all in. “Good, you feel so fucking good” he chuckles breathlessly.

“Such a little slut. Coming into my office, Late at night and asking me to fuck your ass” he pulls back slowly only to slam forward with aggression.

You gasp at the new sensation. Arms reaching out for anything to grasp onto, only to be pulled back by his belt tightly wrapped around your wrists.

“Don’t try to run now” he snaps his hips again, more roughly this time.

“You wanted this” he pulls on the belt, tightening it further so your hands have no where to move.

“You asked for this” another harsh thrust as he picks up the pace.

You’re a babbling mess of thank yous and sirs and pleases. Your eyes permanently stuck in the back of your head as your mouth hangs out and drool spills out all over your bosses paperwork. “You feel so good” you moan out his name, tears spilling out your eyes as you thrash. The pleasure all too much.

His palm comes down against you ass, the sound of flesh on flesh echoes in the office as he lands another smack on the other side.

“Yeah? You like it” his voice is shakey and breathless as he continues putting in work, hips moving back and forth.

“Yes, oh god yes. I love it” you squeal. The mixture of pain and pleasure bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You want me to cum inside this tight little ass?” He lands another harsher smack against your ass.

The skin turning a dark red color from all the abuse it’s taken. You know it’ll be hard to sit down tomorrow, but you don’t care.

You felt the way his cock swelled up, the way it throbbed and alerted you he was already close to cumming.

You felt your own insides flutter and tighten, especially when Rafes fingers moved to toy with your clit.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet” he groaned as he felt the sticky juices that gathered against your thighs and dripped down onto his desk.

“Maybe I should fuck this sweet pussy next” his fingers pushed down onto your clit, circling it and loving the way your body and mouth reacted.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum-“ your voice moaned and squeaked as your legs started to shake.

“There we go, baby. Cum for me” he soothed you as he continued to fuck you through it and his fingers flicked your pearl faster with each thrust he delivered.

You clenched harder around him and he choked and groaned as he couldn’t contain himself much longer, releasing every last drop into that sweet, juicy ass he stared and dreamed about every damn day.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10 @writingroom21

[inkdrinkerworld]

Migraine

Aaron helps you with your migraine. wc: 532 cw: fluff

part two of this blurb

Aaron’s immediately perturbed as he passes your office and smells chamomile rather than peppermint coming from your diffuser.

It’s basically Christmas at this point, and given your job you choose to celebrate as early as you can.

It’s not like you’re not allowed to change the scent, it just immediately strikes him as odd because you’d never.

There isn’t any soft hum of music coming from your office either.

Aaron knows something is off but he has case file reports to review and Strauss is on his ass. He’ll check on you before lunch.

Lunch rolls around and you’re still in your office, the door and blinds closed tightly.

Before he can really realise what he’s doing, Aaron knocks on the door and pushes it open.

Your office is shrouded in darkness, the lights off, your screens dim as you sit with shades on.

You’re facing your laptop, but you move slowly; like sticky treacle dripping from a spoon.

“Y/n?” You turn to him, a little frazzled but you hiss all the while.

“Sorry Hotch, I know this might not be work appropriate but I’m working.”

Your words are urgent even if slow, Aaron frowns.

“Migraine?” His words are whispers, soft and sweet.

You hum and feel the vibration course straight through the right side of your head.

Aaron coos at the way you grimace.

“I don’t mean this condescendingly, have you been drinking water?”

You manage a little laugh and Aaron frowns.

He’s sure that has caused the migraine to pulse. “I suffer with them chronically. It’s not every day but it’s most days. Today’s little beast is just worse than I’ve had them in a minute.”

He nods.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You push the sunglasses up your nose. Even with the migraine you’re sure he’d see the way your pupils melt into pools of adoration at his question.

“I don’t think so, my medicine should kick in soon.”

“What about tea?”

You can tell he wants to be useful, especially when your palm cradles your temple as you twist a little more to face him.

“Chamomile, please. Or peppermint.”

Aaron nods, “I’ll be right back.”

He shuts your door so it’s hard to hear him as he moves further into the bullpen.

You make Aaron out just enough;

“Are you sure, Spencer?”

Spencer chuckles, “Yes I’m sure. Cashews, almonds, cantaloupe. You can even try pears.”

“Anderson,” You hear him call and then Aaron mumbles something else.

When he comes to you with a steaming cup of peppermint tea, you note that he also has a plate of all the foods Spencer had mentioned.

“They’re high in magnesium.” Aaron explains carefully, allowing himself a moment to card some hair behind your ear to distract from the blush that blooms under his chin at your coo.

“Thank you Hotch.”

You sound wistful and dreamy, you ignore him and the tender way he strokes your ear a little while more as you take a sip of your tea.

“Let me know if you need to go home. Sleep may be better than any of this.”

You lean into his touch before he pulls away, “You’ve helped plenty already.”

[azaharinflames]

Will you share your theory on what you think is happening behind the scenes of 911?

Hi, Nonnie!

Sure! As long as everyone is aware this is purely speculation, and nothing I say should be taken as proof of anything, I have no problem.

I've gone over a few things in my head, to be honest. I thought that JLH having filming conflicts could've been a major factor, and I still don't exactly disagree with that initial idea, but overall I think it was one of the things that threw TM for a loop.

Now, I've seen a lot of people theorize that perhaps Angela is leaving and that is what is causing so much chaos in BTS, but I am on the fence about this. I do think she might've asked to not have such a big role moving forward, especially if they get a season 9 (which I am also on the fence about ngl), like perhaps retiring, or just having a more laidback position training new recruits. The seeds are planted for that, not so much for her fully leaving. And it would give Angela more free time to dedicate to other projects (which, yes please. I need her in new projects ASAP).

So... (and please don't kill me for this, it's just a theory).

I think it all comes back to Ryan. And that he perhaps is leaving, or actively wants to leave. I will try to explain myself as concise as possible:

A couple of months ago there was already speculation about this. In all of his individual interviews (which were a lot, to be honest), Ryan made a point of talking about his work beyond 911 and talking about what he would like to do after 911.

On top of the individual promo, there was an uncharacteristically high amount of BTS dedicated to him and the godforsaken mustache. To the point where they threw a mustache party. And in the pics of that party, the vibes were that it was a party for Ryan, not in general.

Small thing, but Josh randomly dressing up as Eddie for Halloween. Perhaps unrelated, but I wanted to add it.

The 911 account reposting and celebrating Ryan's 100th ep, when 1. it wasn't his 100th (if we count the eps he was actually in) and 2. it was also JLH's, and yet they didn't say a thing about it. Ryan reposted that as well and the message he reposted it with was more nostalgic than anything else. Very much giving 'it was an honor to work with you, what a journey'.

I could be wrong, but I do think his contract ends this season. So, that just adds to it.

The timeline of the move to Texas. By the reactions alone I was fully expecting Eddie to leave for Texas at the end of 808, and then to be back with Chris (in a lazy way of solving their conflict off-screen) by 809-810. But the way he's currently thinking about it makes it very sus for me. As in, it can be a thing for the end of the season, and an actual goodbye for Eddie.

Of course, nothing of this has to actually happen, and it's quite possible it just exists in my brain. But this makes sense in my funny brain because then it explains why BT had to break up so soon... because they wanted Buck to feel completely isolated.

We know 809-10 will deal with Maddie being kidnapped. That alone will make Buck spiral. But if on top of that his best friend is also leaving... well, being alone just adds to the isolation and the angst. Because if Tommy was still around he'd be able to lean on him, and have him help him through this. But it seems like the writers wanted Buck fully alone for this, because sure, seeing a character never learning and being completely isolated is so much fun.

If this ends with BT getting back together, I honestly don't know. It wouldn't surprise me if Tim doesn't know. But, all in all, I wouldn't be surprised if RG deciding he's done is the thing that kinda created the domino effect.

(Also: I do not believe Oliver was telling Tim to fire Lou and end BT. Sorry. I just don't really see it. Nor do I think there were actual conflicts between actors BTS, as much as everything they're doing right now does feel a bit weird)

Anyway, thanks for letting me rant, Nonnie! My inbox is always open for ranting, venting, or discussing

Take care <3

[starsungwithamelody]

do you write for oliver aiku? :3

-yep anon!! feel free to send in more requests!

car sex w Oliver Aiku

afab! reader

context- you just got stood up at a date, planned by anri of course. you’re sad, upset, kicking the bed, but then… you get a text.

your ex fling, Oliver Aiku

a/n- ignore how trash my writing has been… sorry

warnings- car sex, riding, a lil cunilingus and my horrible “fluff” or “angst” I DIDNT DO A PROOFREAD

its 10:38 pm

you’re laying in your bed, sighing about some random guy who stood you up! you are never trusting anri again, who would’ve known she was horrible at choosing blind dates?

you’re just doomscrolling now, liking and commenting on every somewhat cute guy.

“... this is so STUPID!”

you push your head in your pillows, swinging your legs around. maybe you’ll be alone for the rest of your life!

bzzt!

“please! please tell me that’s a like back!”

you rush to pick up your phone, a text from oliver. your ex-fling..

“you up?” -10:40 pm

oh. it’s this guy again! some stupid strong idiot with some really good dick! i mean you did sleep with him enough… for the number to be in the double digits.

whatever, you’re done with guys! they’re nothing but stupid-

bzzt!

he double texted?! what the fu- you rush to open the chat again.

“c’mon now, don’t leave me on read.” -10:43 pm

okay.. no way he just double texted! that means he definitely wants to fuck right now! wait what are you thinking girl? just one last night stand? your fingers start flying on the screen typing the most perfectly written text message back!

“haha yeah heyy” -10:44 pm

did you come off too strong?! whatever! he just wants to fuck and you don’t mind that!

“come outside cutie” -10:44 pm

wait. HES OUTSIDE?!

you quickly head out to your window, oh my god! he’s actually outside?! you quickly brush your hair and clean yourself up before you rush out the door.

“hey there!”

wait did you even reapply lipstick? did you just forget your phone? you’re so flustered and nervous about a guy you’ve fucked so many times already.

“you were ready for this?”

he looks up and down at you, a cute elegant blue dress. it’s not too revealing, but it makes you look gorgeous!

“oh! well.. my date stood me up earlier..”

you pause, taking a deep breath in.

“whatever.. he was really shitty anyway”

you feel aiku pull you into his arms, one of his hands pressing onto your back pulling you closer.

“ooh! aiku.. i don’t think this.. this is appropriate-“

he quickly shuts you up with a kiss, his other hand holding your head, keep you locked into the kiss. you can’t help but reciprocate the kiss back.

he only lets go after you’re left panting. he watches your eyes, you feel nervous. but then he speaks again.

“i want you back.”

he pauses, his hold on your back moving lower.

“i don’t want to keep just fucking like this.. i want you”

he pauses again, this time he looks through you. you start to sweat a little, no freaking way! no way he just said that!

“i need you, i can’t let some other guy have you for himself.”

is he for real? no way! he has to be lying right?

“im not lying sweetheart, you are the missing piece in my life”

he understood you, he understands you. you feel a real.. genuine connection with aiku, you’ve never felt any spark or connection with any guy.

“so please? will you be my girlfriend?”

you snap back into reality, quickly processing what he just said. maybe you’ll give him a chance.

“a-ah.. shit!”

you grip on to aiku’s shoulders tightly, he just keeps thrusting into you! the comfy leather seats are stained with a mix of your juices.

“fuuuckk… you’re so good to me baby..”

you press your head into his neck, peppering small kisses along his collarbone.

“hah-ha.. is this your way of thanking me?”

you can’t help but smile at his words, his hands tangle into your hair pulling you closer.

“you’re so warm y’know?”

he slowly moves your hands to your hips, keeping you bouncing on his shaft.

“soo.. glad that date stood you up”

he softly pecks a kiss to your cheek, moving down to your neck. you can barely respond, he’s just wayy too deep inside you! his hand moves to your stomach pressing on the bulge.

“just.. too big for you hm, your cunt is just begging for me right now…”

he laughs softly squeezing your hips, lifting your hips up again.

“yeah.. you’re too b-!“

your insides are immediately rearranged with one thrust.

“ahh.. fuckk..”

you look up at him, holding onto his biceps.

“i- i want more aiku..”

in a few seconds, oliver presses your back against the car seat. his hands keeping your legs pressed up to your chest. he quickly kisses your clit, licking up your juices.

“let’s do more then.. shall we?”

he lines himself against you, slowly teasing you with his tip. thrusting fully inside you when you start whining about how empty your stomach feels without, his finger pressing on the bulge on your stomach.

its gonna be a lonnnggg night for you two huh?

a/n- can you tell when i got bored of writing lololol

[magicalbuttertarts]

AEW Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: oral (m receiving) cum swallowing. Pussy fingering Unprotected sex (p in v).creampie

Photos do not belong to me.

Requested by anonymous. Hope you like it.

From my previous account plentyoffandoms.

WC: 1439

©️ magicalbuttertarts 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

"I am sorry, but there is only one bed." The staff member behind the desk said once more.

"Well, as you can see, there are two of us, and we are not in a relationship."

"I understand that ma'am, but there is nothing that can be done."

I was ready to rip into the poor hotel staff member when James placed his hand on my shoulder and held his hand out for the key card.

"We will make it work." Was all he said.

I went to open my mouth to complain once more when he just shook his head no at me. I sighed, knowing he was doing the right thing.

I muttered an apology to the staff member and followed James to the elevator.

Once the two of us were in the room, I looked at the bed. It was only a queen size. "It is for only one night." I said to myself.

"If you would like, I can sleep on the couch." I looked at the couch, and I shook my head no. "You are taller than the couch, and you have to get a good night's sleep for your match against Mike. I'll take the couch."

"No, you will be sleeping in the bed. I will not have you sleeping on the couch. We are both adults. We can share a bed." Was all he said before going into the washroom.

The problem is, I sleep naked. I hate sleeping with clothes on. Always have, but I can't sleep naked next to James.

I grabbed the longest t-shirt I had and begrudgingly pulled it over my head and got under the covers.

It was already a bit late when we checked in, and me throwing my little hissy fit did not help any.

I was facing the opposite way when James came out of the washroom. "Going to bed already?" He asked.

"Yeah. May as well."

"Look, why don't we watch a movie and then go to bed."

I thought it over, and it sounded good to me. "Okay." I sat up and propped myself up against the bed.

◆

"This movie is terrible." I groaned.

"It isn't that bad." He couldn't take his eyes off the TV screen. I should have picked the movie instead of him picking Shortbus.

"I have a feeling you wanted to watch porn, but you can't cause I am in the room." I teased, but instead of him denying it, his face seemed to go red.

"I can just step out if you need to take care of business." I tried to offer.

"Thank you, but that isn't going to help. I'll just have to deal with it tonight."

The mood was now ruined. We turned off the TV, and I laid down, trying to sleep.

◆

I couldn't sleep due to the fact that I was wearing clothes, and oh, James kept moving around.

After him tossing and turning for what felt like was the tenth time, I turned to face him and came face to face with his bare chest.

I have seen it many times, but not this close. I actually lost my train of the thought for a moment.

"Am I keeping you awake?" The shook me out of my thoughts of licking his chest.

"Yes! I need to sleep, as do you."

"I'm sorry, I can't, though."

"You are not a teen. Just jerk off in the washroom. If not, I will step outside like I offered earlier, or fuck, I will help you. Anything to get you to sleep." I was joking about the last part.

"Really? You'll help me?"

"What? No! I was kidding."

"One night is all I ask. Please." I was about to say no, but my mouth opened and on its own accord, I said,"Yes, but you owe me."

◆

James was softly moaning my name as I took more and more of him into my mouth. I was only supposed to jerk him off, but as I lay between his spread legs, my hand jerking him off, I mouth watering at the sight of him.

His chest was glistening, his back was arched, and his mouth was hanging open. Just one taste is all I wanted.

I did one long lick up his cock, before wrapping my lips around the tip and started to suck, moaning at the taste of him.

"Oh fuckin' hell. Gonna make me cum." He moaned, as he tried to pull my head away, but I just slapped his hand away.

The tip hit the back of my throat, and I gagged, making him groan, but I pushed through it until my face was buried in his pubic hair.

"Better than I imagined." Did I hear that correctly?

"So good."

"Oh shit, no." Was all the warning he gave before I felt the first rope of cum hit the back of my throat. I started to swallow as fast as I could, but some did spill out of the corners of my mouth.

I pulled my mouth away from him dick, opening my mouth to show him I swallowed all his cum.

I left James on the bed, with his arm covering his eyes, as I went to the washroom to brush my teeth and rinse my mouth out with some mouthwash.

◆

I came out of the washroom, and James was still lying there naked. I was about to question why when I saw that he was hard again.

"I am not sucking you off again."

"I know, just get on the bed." I did as he asked, and he pushed me until I was lying on my back. "Let me repay you." His hand was trailing down my body, towards me legs, that were already spreading for him.

"Shit, you're soaked. That usually happen when you suck cock?" I nodded my head, moaning as he inserted two fingers easily.

I went to cover my face, embarrassed with how wet I was, but his free hand grabbed my hand. "Don't cover your face. There's no need to be embarrassed. Just relax, and let me help you, like how you helped me."

I went to point out that his cock was still hard, but nothing came out expect a gasp as he curled his fingers just so, easily hitting that spongy spot inside of me.

Oh, he is good. He is very good.

◆

I had to physically move his hand away from me. I had tears streaming down my face after he coaxed a fourth orgasm out of me.

I pushed him down, climbing on top of him, smashing my mouth against his, raking my nails down his chest.

"Need you." I whimpered.

"I got you, baby. This isn't going to last long, though." He said as I lifted my body just a bit, as I reached down between our bodies and grabbed his dick, holding it as I sunk down on his lap.

I was already so sensitive, that I felt like I was going to cum with him just the tip inside of me.

I looked down to see James, with his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hanging open. I cupped his face, "Come back to me, James." I started to move back and forth, not wanting him to leave my pussy.

But James flipped us around, and I had my back against the mattress, his hands gripping my legs to wrap them around his body.

He pulled back until just the tip was in, and then he slammed in side of me. I cried out his name.

"Hold on, baby."

His pace was brutal as he fucked me like I have never been fucked before. I came two more times around his cock, and he fucked me through both.

His cock stretched me out just the perfect amount, and I don't think I can go back to anyone else.

"Where?" My sex-haze brain didn't catch all of his questions.

"Huh?"

"Gonna cum. Where?"

"On the pill."

That was all he needed.

He fucked me like this was his last day on earth. Then his thrusts started to get sloppy until he stilled.

He came so much, it started to leak out around him, between my ass cheeks and onto the mattress.

He collapsed on top of me, and I wrapped my arms around him.

"Can you sleep now?"

"Yes. Fuck yes."

I pushed him off of me, and went to go and clean myself up. He yelled from the bed. "Yeah?"

"Want to get one bed the next time?"

I thought it over.

"We will see James. We will see."

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @madhatterbri @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @tahiri-veyla @crowleysqueenofhell

[camillomea]

child of crime alley chapter 5: nox

and new chapter. I hope you like it. Write your thoughts in the comments. Enjoy reading. Thanks for everyone's support.

Tim was working on something on his computer when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He had only left his post once to go on patrol for an hour but had returned when the patrol was over. He had jumped when he felt a hand and grabbed the hand that was holding him. It was Jason. “Hey bird, it’s me. I’m sorry. I was calling out to you and you didn’t hear me. That’s why,” he said. Tim let go of his hand and relaxed when he saw him. Jason said, “Good reflexes little bird.” Tim asked, “Thanks. What’s the matter?” Jason said. Tim looked over there curiously and saw a tray with a plate of cookies and two mugs in it. He sniffed the air and murmured, “It smells nice.” Jason chuckled. He put the tray on the table. “Go on, eat it bird. You should eat the cookies before the vultures swarm,” he said. Tim tilted his head to the side curiously. Jason asked, “It’s not a big deal bird. What time does your shift start?” Tim looked at his watch. “It’s 4 o’clock. That means we have 45 more minutes,” he said as he picked up one of the cookies and started eating it. Jason said “You need to eat.” Tim shook his head “I’ll eat when I get there. My workplace is a cafe and they serve hot pastries at all hours, to be honest I can’t wait to go and eat.” A voice said “Do you prefer Alfred’s food to a crappy cafe?” Tim looked over and saw Damian. Jason said “Dami” in a warning tone. Damian said “What the hell?” Tim said “Kid, I’ve never had Alfred’s food in my life. So I can’t compare” he said expressionlessly. Damian flinched “That’s impossible” he said. Jason said “He’s telling the truth” Damian froze. But they knew my situation and made sure I ate without a penny even though I had money for a long time. So no matter what happens that place will always have a special place in my heart.” Damian froze at that. Jason said “Drink your drink, bird, eat it before you go to work. I didn’t make it for nothing” Tim said “Sorry for the trouble”. Jason, no need to be sad, bird, I got some for myself too, look,” he said, pointing to the tray. Tim nodded silently. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Jason ruffled his hair gently. Tim looked at him with glassy eyes. It was obvious he wasn’t used to this. Jason pulled his hand away. “Oh, by the way, Bird, I’ll drop you off, it’s cold out here, don’t freeze,” he said. Tim said, “I don’t want to bother.” Jason said, “Hey, you live in the alley, it’ll just be up the road.” Tim hesitated but nodded. “Thanks, Hood,” he said quietly. Jason said, “Of course.” Then he asked, “By the way, where do you work?” Tim said, “Uh, uh,” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow. Tim asked, “Do you remember the Nox cafe in the alley?” Jason froze. “Is that the place in the alley that gives free food to anyone who can’t afford it?” Tim nodded. Jason said, “WAIT! Are you telling me you met the owner?” Tim said, “I’m exercising my right not to answer,” he said, looking away. Jason’s eye twitched. “Timmy, timbelina, timbuktu, timothea, thea now please answer me. Have you met or not?” he asked. Tim said. “Maybe.” Jason said. “Okay. So who is this person?” he asked patiently. Tim looked away and took a long sip of his hot chocolate. “Good.” Jason’s eye twitched. “Bird.” Tim said. “You wouldn’t believe it even if I told you.” Jason said. “Try it.” Tim took out his phone and typed in a name. Jason leaned over and looked at the text. He blinked. “Are you serious?” he said. Tim nodded and continued drinking his drink, closing the screen. Jason sighed. “Whoever it is, I barely ate there when I was little. I guess I’ll have to go say hello to him later.” Tim shrugged.

[hyperfixationcritter]

#YES I love these thoughts thank you#I fully believe that if the scope had stayed contained there would have been plenty of time to tie Ekko into the parent themes too#we could've learned what happened to ekko's parents and learned more about the legacy ekko is carrying on with the firelights#at least he could've been drawn into the warwick plot if the warwick plot still has to be there#the extra kicker to tesla's mom's death is that she died uneducated and tesla spoke of how she would've changed the world#had she had the opportunity to do so. but living in a village in 1800s croatia she didn't have that opportunity#reflecting that in viktor's story would've doubled the gutpunches to his character in realizing that he has been ineffective in piltover#his mother gave him the opportunity that she never had and then he was too late to bring the benefits he wanted for the undercity to her#there is so much potential with jayce's character and ximena especially with how jayce's character has so much to do with image and ideals#and with how jayce never really grapples with where he came from compared to where people from the undercity come from idk#we really just needed a different vision for season 2 because if all the writers had was 2 seasons then a different game plan was needed#i always love seeing your thoughts on the show

AAAHHHH thankyousomuch 💖 I like seeing your thoughts on the show too!

If Ekko was trying to carry on an ideological legacy of his own, it would be a cool comparison to him, Jinx and Vi and bring him back into their shared story instead of sidelining him.

Also, I really how you worded Viktor being "given an opportunity his mother never had and being too late to bring the benefits he wanted for the undercity to her." Like, just reading that breaks my heart but if that actually played out in the show I'd be screaming, crying and falling over lol XD

Edit: Viktor's mom being a character could also add some interesting context/flavor to the song "The Line" now that I'm thinking about it.

And YES, Jayce doesn't really grapple with where he came from. I feel like I've seen different takes as to whether or not he was originally from Piltover and his near-death experience in the mountains was from a trip him and Ximena were on or if they came from somewhere else and ended up settling in there. I'd like to see that clarified on screen because either version would do interesting things for the two of them.

If it was the latter though, it could make for an interesting parallel between him and Mel as immigrants compared to Viktor who's a local and would further feed into the themes of image and ideals with Jayce. I personally would've liked to see more of Jayce grappling with how easily he was let go by people he thought supported him, namely house Kirraman, after being put on trial and how that affects his trust in others/people pleasing tendencies. If he was an immigrant too, that would add onto how he feels about his place in Piltover.

In a different world, with Arcane season 1 having such a focus on fathers, Arcane season 2 has a focus on mothers. The highest stakes remain the Piltover/Zaun conflict.

Mel and Ambessa, Caitlyn and Cassandra, Vi and Jinx and Felicia, Jayce and Ximena, Ekko could have someone too, and you know what? We meet Viktor's mom too. Here's why.

Viktor is inspired by the real historical inventor Nikola Tesla. Today, Tesla's family is usually considered Serbian and they lived in what is now Croatia. His father was an Eastern Orthodox priest and his mother, Đuka Mandić, ran the household, a genius in her own right in several ways, including being a clever seamstress, having an incredible memory, and being an inventor herself because she made tools and appliances to help with household tasks. Letters and pieces of interviews show that Tesla spoke fondly of her and that he felt that his talents came from her.

Tesla lived in Prague, Paris, New York, all over, throughout his career. When he was in his 30's, he was giving lectures in Paris when he got word that his mother was dying of illness. He rushed back to Croatia to see her and was there when she died, devastating him.

Listen, arguments can be made about respectfully reflecting real historical figures' lives in fictional characters - but the good, bad, and ugly parts of Tesla's life have already been ground up and used for parts of Viktor's story and in many other pieces of fantasy media. Just imagine a Viktor who leaves home (this wasn't in the show, but according to the writers, they believe Viktor's mom helped him sneak into the Academy, which makes me think they knew about Đuka and if they had included Viktor's mom, she would have been like her) to attend the Academy, intending to help the undercity someday. Arcane plays out in its usual tragic way. Imagine a plotline where Viktor hears that his mother is dying. He goes to see her, help her, something. She dies in his arms.

Just think about Viktor's mom being the specific example of someone he couldn't save, this moment being the one where he realizes his time in Piltover was spent in vain. Imagine she dies because of the problems Piltover and the Hexgates are causing Zaun, be it the Zaun Gray or the tainted water or what have you. It would tie Viktor's story so much more strongly to the plight of Zaun itself, it would be thematically consistent with the other Arcane characters who lose parents, it could be just one of several concrete examples of Viktor trying to help someone with his own hands, and it would show that he had connections besides Jayce that were tethering him and that Singed's "loneliness is often the byproduct of a gifted mind" really was bullshit (whether Viktor realizes it or not).

[soup-sponge]

when everyone starts calling for the mirror at the auction winkman looks at adelaide like he's a street cat who's just been kicked into a puddle and i find it so amusing

[leafsfromthevine]

my favorite bromance ever, actually (x)

[fisheito]

snakes have something called a jacobson's organ that allows them to smell. they stick out their tongue, and then when it enters their mouth again, the jacobson's organ processes what they just smelled with their tongue. i say this to propose that, after yakumo licks eiden's dick for a good 10 minutes, he closes his mouth and processes it all like O_____O

when i TELL YOU that this message left me bracing the wall like

(overwhelmed with positive affect)

[taeghi]

let's collab | (m)

⇰ summary : you've always vied for the top spot on onlyfans but "hluvsbabes" makes it tough with his undeniable charm and looks. when you unexpectedly meet him you realize he's even more captivating up close. despite the competition, you find yourself unable to turn down his one request.

⇰ pairing : camboy!heeseung x camgirl!y/n

⇰ genre : smut!! masturbation, vibrators lol, dirty talk, oral, throat fucking, unprotected sex, degrading, praise, sir kink, spanking, brief spitting and hair pulling lol.

⇰ word count : 10k (8k of it is just pure, filthy smut) !!!

⇰ taglist : @criminalyun @princeseung @seokseokjinkim @loveydoveyhee @immelissaaa @iselltulips @strxwbloody @ensaz008 @loavibeycipoosan @liwugy @starfallia @you-make-skz-stay @ineedsomezzz @heeshlove @niniissus @mirramirra @skzenhalove @fandom-freak-geek @lilifiedeans @woahhhhaw @cchangli @enhabooks @heelovesmeknot @fakeuwus @soobinsnovia101 @river-demon-slayer @jjklvr9 @hanjisunginc @iamliacamila @jaylaxies

mdni

you started ‘darlingdove01’ when you needed some extra cash in your second year of college. at first you didn’t show your face at all and you were nervous that someone you knew was going to find out. godforbid your parents found out about your sex work. 

over time, you started to get more comfortable in front of the camera and started to show your face. though you never said your real name. you had started to get a close following and were at the top of the creators of the week every week. the way it worked was that the longer you were number one, the more increase of pay you got. though, you had never been number 1 for more than one week at a time. 

all thanks to hluvsbabes. 

it seemed that every week you and hluvsbabes would alternate who was number one. no matter what new things you tried to increase your audience and views, the next week you were back at number two. 

the day that you were fed up with always being put back to second was the day that you would very soon regret. 

you were lazily scrolling through the app when you noticed hluvsbabes had just started streaming, so, you clicked onto the livestream. 

and there he was. hluvsbabes shirtless with his hard cock pulled out of his pants and sitting in between his fist. his pale skin gleamed against his computer screen light, showing off his abs. he had a black mask covering the lower part of his face. his bangs fell into his squinted eyes as he casually pumped his cock up and down in his fist. 

you couldn’t stop your jaw from going slack as you took in the sight before you. you could tell his mouth was in a playful smirk as he watched the comments fly. suddenly a tip of 20$ flew in the corner of the screen : “take ur pants off pls”. 

you could hear his dark chuckle through your speakers, “mmm, only because you said please.” 

you watched him do as the viewer asks. he dug his thumbs into his pants and boxers and pulled them down to reveal his pale legs that matched the rest of his body. 

he seemed so confident and casual as he sat in his chair fully nude, as if 8,000 people weren’t watching him right now. 

“is that better for you?” his voice asked with a tone of amusement. you watched him laugh as all the comments immediately filled with variations of “yes”. “what else do you want me to do? tell me.” the comments were instantly filled with nasty things that you have to admit you also wanted him to do. 

you had figured hluvsbabes was hot since he was always top one or two, but you didn’t think he would look like this. and that his voice would be so seductive. 

“i won’t be taking off my mask, guys.” hluvsbabes shakes his head with a chuckle, he’s just so amused with his fans. along with his fans you also wished he took off his mask. you would love to see the mouth that formed such seductive words. 

suddenly, a tip came up in the corner of the screen of 100$, “start jerking ur cock, baby”. your jaw dropped at the amount of the tip. you had only ever received 100$ worth a few times in the past two years. hluvsbabes didn’t even seem that shocked by the amount as he did as he was told. 

his hand started to move faster up and down his hard cock. the tip of his cock looked so red and swollen in the light of his computer screen. 

“will you spit on it for me, baby?” hluvsbabes whines out and you instantly shut your legs together. 

the comments are gradually picking up pace, commenting demands and praises, asking questions for him to answer. you can hear his deep grunts through your speakers as he keeps his bang covered eyes on the comments. 

a 15$ tip pops up in the corner again; “tell me i’m ur good girl pls”. 

hluvsbabes amusingly shakes his head, “of course you're my good girl. do you have your fingers in your panties? how wet are you? tell me how wet you are, good girl.” 

you’re in shock from his words, the comments, the amount of tips and from how hot hluvsbabes is. 

his deep laugh distracts you from your thoughts. he throws his head back on the chair’s headrest, making his bangs reveal his forehead. even with his mask on, you can tell that his mouth is open agape from the pleasure he’s feeling. 

“fuck, guys. i’ve been thinking about this– about you all day. my dick has been hard since my morning class.” 

the thought of him having to walk around with a hard cock all day because he thought of getting off in front of thousands of people only turns you on more. he continues to move his hand up and down his cock, his grunts getting louder and louder. 

“i-i’m getting close. i wish you were here to taste my cum, shit.” 

it was getting to the point where you couldn’t ignore the tingly feeling starting to increasingly grow in the pit of your stomach. you felt entranced by him, not being able to take your eyes off of your screen. you had only planned to watch a couple of minutes just to see what the hype was about, but now you’ve been watching him for close to twenty minutes. you lean onto your desk uncaringly over your keyboard and your heart stops when you see : 

darlingdove01 : ghj

your eyes widen at your username in the comment section, praying to god none of his 15k viewers notices. 

“oh, darlingdove is in here,” hluvsbabes’s voice speaks suddenly, making you jolt away from your computer screen and grab the handles of your chair. he tilts his head and looks directly into the camera as he continues, “how are you, darling? do you like the show? do you like watching me get off?” 

you are in shock and you can’t think of what to do. you never thought you would be in a situation like this. you notice all the comments start filling up with your name as hluvsbabes is still stroking his cock and groaning. 

“maybe she’s too busy with her hands to type right now.” hluvsbabes jokes in a grunted laugh. you cover your mouth with your hands in shock. and you read one comment that says “who can blame her?”. 

and with that, you immediately leave the one and only hluvsbabes livestream you have ever watched, the embarrassment being almost too much.

a few days and a lot of thoughts of hluvsbabes later, you know you have to get back to livestreaming. you had planned a few things for your next live stream despite being busy with college and being distracted by the memories of hluvsbabes. 

the way ‘darling’ slipped from his mouth so casually and sensual. 

usually, people only referred to you as ‘dove’. you didn’t anticipate for darling to be so efficacious. but maybe it was only because hluvsbabes had said it. the way it sounded in his smooth, mischievous tone. it kept you up at night. 

tonight, you had to live stream on your account. 

you started at your usual time; 10pm, in your usual setting; your bedroom. your nightside lamp was lit behind you, being your only source of light besides your computer screen. your body was covered by an oversized hoodie which covered your panties and the top of your bare thighs. 

“hi everyone,” you spoke into your microphone, looking at the rising amount of viewers on your live stream. the comments started piling in, regular questions about yourself mixed with sexual ones that made you laugh to yourself. “my week was good, thank you. how has your week been, guys?” 

you read some of the comments, recognizing some of the usernames that comment. and when you notice a steady amount of viewers and when the comments start teasing you and begging you to start, you begin. 

“tonight,” you start, and sit back in your computer chair, “i think i’ll have some fun with my new toy.” you reach out of the camera’s view and grab the toy you had bought earlier in the week. it was a long, white vibrator. you take your time to show the camera the entire toy, smiling proud of it. “what should we name him?” you giggle out, reading the comments as they flood with names and praises and begging. 

you sit back in your chair, “he has three settings, should i start with the lowest? see how wet he can get me?” you ask, your voice teasing. tips start to come in, telling you to turn it on, telling you that they want to see you cum. 

with a flick of your thumb you turn it onto the lowest setting. a low buzzing sound fills your bedroom, entering the mic for your audience to hear. you lift your feet so they rest on the chair, your knees up in the air. your hoodie bunches at your waist for your panties and bare legs to be revealed. you press the vibrator against your clit over top of your panties, testing it. 

“oh god,” you moan, “even the lowest setting is good.” you inform your audience, keeping your eyes on the camera and comments. you giggle when you read a tip that tells you to move it in circles. “want me to move it? want to watch me pleasure myself?” the comments flood with yes’s. 

you start to move the vibrator in slow, small circles around your clit. wanting to tease yourself and the audience for as long as possible. you would be lying if you said it didn’t feel good. the feeling of the vibrator against your pulsing clit and the eyes of hundreds of people watching you in real time. 

a tip catches your eye; 

heesacc tipped 50$! : that looks like it feels good, darling. why don’t you move up a setting.

your eyes linger on the word darling and the large tip they gave you. 

“okay, let’s put it up to the medium setting.” you agree, your finger flicking the button up. the buzzing becomes louder as the toy starts moving faster. your hand still moves the vibrator in slow, small circles over your panties. “fuck, this is even better, baby.” 

you read comments that compliment you, that tell you they wanna see you cum right now, that you should remove your clothes. 

“want me to take my clothes off?” you tease the camera, your free hand playing with hem of your oversized sweater. “tell me what you want me to take off.” the comments tell you that they want you naked, that your sweater should come off, that everything should come off. 

heesacc tipped 50$! : take your sweater off and play with your tits, darling. rub your nipples and pretend it’s me.

“wanna see my tits? wanna see me play with them just for you?” you bite your lip at the tip, but do as they said, putting down the vibrator for a second as you pull the sweater off your core. your breasts being revealed to the audience. you look at yourself in the mirror, noticing the large wet stain on your panties from your juices and the vibrator. “oh my god, look wet i am.” you wiggle so your panties can be seen better on camera. the large wet stain evident in the computer screen’s light. “this is how good you make me feel.” 

you read the comments that say they wish they were there beside you, that they want to rip your panties off. 

you pick up the vibrator again, still on the medium setting. your one hand holds the vibrator steady against your covered clit, as your free hand comes up and starts to tweak your nipples. your forefinger and thumb hook your nipple, rolling it. you let out moans at the feeling, your back arching off your chair naturally. 

“fuck, i love playing with my nipples, it turns me on so much.” you state honestly, switching between nipples with your fingers. 

heesacc tipped 70$! : let’s see how swollen your pretty pussy is, darling. 

you gulped as you read the tip come through. just reading the words sent a shiver straight to your core. you swore your pussy got so much wetter as you finished reading it. 

you set the vibrator down again, “you wanna see my pussy, baby? wanna see how wet and swollen you got it?” you tease the camera, your hand dragging across your panties. with the multiple “yes”’s commenting, you start to slowly slide your panties off your legs, showing the camera the larger wet stain on them. 

you lean back in your chair again, the same position with your feet on the chair and knees up, but this time your pussy was visible to the camera. your hand glides down between your legs. you keep your eyes on the camera as your fingers slide through your lips so easily. you whine when your fingers rub over your sensitive clit. “i’m so wet, fuck. you could slip right in. stretch out my tight pussy. god, i need that so bad. need to be stretched out.” 

you reach for the vibrator again, “let’s see how long i can last on the high setting. i’m so close already.” you giggle out to your audience. 

you turn the vibrator to the highest setting, the toy buzzing in your hand as you bring it to your bare pussy. instantly you throw your head back, crying out at the pleasure. your other hand massaging your breast. 

heesacc tipped 100$! : cum like a good girl, darling. 

“oh god!” your eyebrows pull together from the pleasure. your knees start to buckle as the pleasure starts to take over you. “i’m gonna cum! fuck, i’m cumming.” you nod your head and try to keep your eyes on the camera as you hit your high. your bare chest heaves as your orgasm washes through your body, struggling to keep the vibrator on your clit from oversensitivity. 

when your head clears and your body relaxes, you manage to say goodbye to your audience, that you’ll see them again next time. you end the livestream, your eyes reading the tips, resting on the username ‘heesacc’. you had never seen them before, but they tip generously throughout the entire livestream. 

and they kept calling you darling.

you always had to get coffee before class. but your usual coffee shop had a line out the door today, so you had to go to one on campus that you’ve never been to before. though you knew you’d probably be late to class now, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sit through the two hour lecture without your daily coffee. 

you’re distracted by the menu of unfamiliar drinks that you don’t hear the barista question if you’re ready to order until the third time he says it. 

“oh sorry,” you tell him, shaking your head to wake up, “uh, could i get the blonde vanilla latte, please?” you tell the barista. you start to dig through your backpack for some money. 

“darlingdove01?” his voice questions, recognition definite in his voice. 

your head snaps up to look at the barista properly for the first time. your username making your ears and cheeks paint red. “uhh, yeah!” you’ve only been recognized in public a few times, and they’ve usually been at parties or get together, never in a public public place before. 

the barista has dark brown hair that’s covering his forehead. his eyes are big, doe-like and expressive. his features are sharp and delicate at the same time. his complexion is so smooth in the harsh coffee shop lights. “oh, cool.” his voice is smooth as he shrugs, almost impressed. “that’ll be 5.49$, please.” 

so shocked, you scramble to pile some change on the counter, dropping it for him to pick it up. you smile with a faint nod before you walk away for the next person behind you to order. 

you take deep breaths as you wait for your order, telling yourself that it’s okay, that that could’ve gone a lot worse. you weren’t used to people looking at you in public, that’s why you chose to stay behind a screen. 

“blonde vanilla latte!” the barista calls out a few minutes later. you go up and take the cup from him. “have a good day.” he’s polite, and his eyes tell you something that you don’t quite pick up. 

you turn away from the counter, ready to get the hell out of his coffee shop. you glance down at your drink, noticing words written in black on the side. 

let’s collab, hluvsbabes

with his number written underneath.  you turn your head to look back at the barista, but find a woman working the cashier instead. the brown haired boy disappeared from sight. you think back from the one and only hluvsbabes stream you had seen of his. he had kept his bangs over his eyes, hiding how doe-eyed they really were. his mask covered the entirety of his lower face. there was no way to know if the barista was really the hluvsbabes, but his eyes seemed to tell you that he was. that he knew who you were, too.

your fingers hover over your phone’s keyboard. the apparent hluvsbabes’s phone number typed in above, but the message box left empty. you decide to bite the bullet, even if it wasn’t him, all you had to do was block him after and then act like this never, ever happened. 

youhi, uh hluvsbabes? 

only a few minutes pass before you get a response. 

(123) - ***-**** hahaha yeah but you can call me heeseung

(123) - ***-****

hi, darlingdove01!

you

how’d you know it’s me? my name’s y/n btw

heeseung

bc you’re the only one i’ve given my number out to lately

heeseung

and bc i knew you’d text me sooner rather than later ;)

you smile, rolling over onto your back, your phone in the air as you text hluvs- heeseung back. 

you

damn, i knew i should’ve waited a month

heeseung

noooo i’m glad you texted me

heeseung 

i wanted you to text me 

you

righttt, you said something about a collab? 

heeseung

yeahh, i think you should come over sometime soon 

you could hear your heart strumming against your chest at his text. the hluvsbabes wanted to collab with you. you had only been competing against each other on onlyfans for months. and neither of you had done a collab before, solely solo stuff. you wondered if it’d be a good idea or not. 

heeseung

c’mon, you know i can make you feel good ;)

you were leaning towards it being a good one.

later in the week you found yourself outside of hluvsbabes apparent apartment. he had only lived a quick bus ride away from you, both of you living close to your university campus. you were biting your fresh manicure the whole bus ride there. 

heeseung had texted you to make sure you knew he wasn’t expecting anything from you. that he just wanted to get to know you, and hey, if a collab happened then it happened! 

though he was very polite and tried his best to reassure you and make you comfortable, you were still nervous to go to a guy’s house that you had seen masturbate before. you had heard what he sounds like when he masturbates. you had thought about his voice and his moans so many times since the “incident”. you were going to a boy’s house that you had cursed at so many times when you saw that he had passed you yet again in subscribers every few weeks. 

you knock on the apartment number’s door that he had given you. you waited a few quick heartbeats until the door opened. 

there stood the barista you had seen a few days ago. his doe-eyes the same and his long bangs covering his forehead. 

“y/n?” he spoke, a smile on his lips that made him seem even prettier than you remembered. 

you tried to picture what hluvsbabes would look like so many times, and now that you finally got a chance to see him, standing in front of you, letting you in his apartment, you were in shock. 

he was so much hotter than you could have ever imagined– now that you weren’t embarrassed in public when someone said your username outloud. 

“wanna come in or stand in the hall all day?” he spoke again, his eyebrow propped up. 

“oh!” you jolted, “sorry, sorry– i’ll come in.” you tell him, smiling at him as he held the door for you and closed once you were in. 

a quick glance around the apartment and you noticed how clean and home-y it looked. a regular couch, coffee table and tv took up one side of the apartment. and on the other side was a small island in the small kitchen. there was a hall on the far side of the room from you– which you figured led to his bedroom. (the room where he masturbates online for money– oh god!) 

“you can sit down on the couch if you want,” heeseung gestures to the couch, wiping his sweaty palms on his gray sweatpants, “do you want a drink or anything?” 

“uh no, i’m good thanks,” you reply, sitting down on the couch, your hands clasping together in your lap. 

as he sits down beside you on the couch, you think about how after you had texted him the other day you had seen he was live on onlyfans– and how you made sure to not press it. the thought of him seeing you watching his livestream again made you physically cringe. 

“so uh,” heeseung starts, a casual smile on his face as he looks at you, “have you thought? about my offer? about the collab?” 

you nod, “i have,” 

“right, well, we don’t have to do it if you don’t want– like i said. we can just hang out– i just saw you and i needed to give you my number i couldn’t just–,” 

“i wanna do it.” 

heeseung’s eyes widen at your answer, “really? only if you’re comfortable.” 

you nod, “yeah, i want to.” 

heeseung’s body relaxes at your words, “okay, when?” 

“right now?” you shrug at him, “i mean you usually stream soon anyways, right?” 

heeseung thought his mind was gonna explode. the hot girl that he’s competed with for top creator was sitting in front of him on his couch, telling him that she wants to collab with him. she could collab with anyone, but she wanted to collab with him. he couldn’t believe what was happening. 

“o-kay,” heeseung stutters and clears his throat, “uh, is there anything you're specifically into– or not into? i mean i’ve seen your streams so i know some things but i-,” 

“you’ve seen my streams?” you ask him confused and intrigued. 

heeseung fights the urge to slap himself, “i mean, yeah. you’re always top creator right?” 

“right, i just didn’t think that you’d watch them, i don’t know.” 

“why wouldn’t i watch them? you’re hot and you know how to engage with the audience.” heeseung admits honestly. 

you squirm at his compliment. “you’re hot, too.” 

heeseung seemingly relaxes completely at this, finally being able to comprehend what’s happening and what you’re thinking. “thank you, i mean i know you’ve seen my streams before, you commented once.” 

you cover your face with your hands, “oh god.” you groan out. 

heeseung laughs at you, “what? is it bad that you’ve watched me masturbate?” 

“no!” you shake your head quickly, eyes wide, “it’s just– i didn’t mean to comment that time– i didn’t even mean to press it! it’s just, just…” 

“i’m just that hot?” heeseung teases you, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“oh my god, shut up!” you laugh, shoving his shoulder. it’s then that you realize how close you’ve gotten on his couch. 

heeseung laughs harder, his face turning serious again when he speaks, “okay but seriously, anything you are or aren’t into?” 

you settle into your spot on the couch and think, “uh, i think i’m okay with anything.” you shrug, “but no anal though. and i’m more into, it being rough.” 

heeseung smirks and asks, “okay no anal. how about choking?” you nod in response, “slapping?” another nod from you, “how about degrading?” you blush and nod. 

“i’m okay with everything but anal, heeseung.” 

“okay, and if you wanna stop, should we come up with a safe word?” 

you ponder for a second and think, “how about, latte?”

heeseung smirks at you, “latte it is, then.” 

both of you stare at each other, lust and playfulness filling your expressions. somehow, your faces are only mere inches apart now as both of you take in the other’s features. you had only seen each other through a computer screen before. had only read each other's usernames on the top creators list– without even knowing your real names. and now you were about to give each other everything– including your first collab. 

your breath quiets as you look into heeseung’s eyes, scanning the brown in them before glancing down at his pretty lips. your lips are just centimeters away from his when he speaks again, “let’s start.” 

heeseung grabs your hand and pulls you up, guiding you down the hall and into his bedroom. he leans over his computer, setting up his account and livestream. you take the time to look around his room. 

his room is definitely the same one you’ve seen on live steam. the multiple monitors on his computer desk. a basic bed with a black and white comforter. and you recognized the few posters on his walls that he allowed to be seen in his lives. 

“okay, it’s ready.” heeseung tells you, “are you sure you wanna do this? we can stop whene–”

“i’m sure, heeseung.” 

“okay, i’ll press start live then,” 

“wait!” you reach for his shoulder, “what about your mask?” you know he’s never gone live without his mask– it’s the one thing that helps keep his identity unknown.

heeseung simply shrugs at you, “i mean, i can’t really eat you out with a mask on, can i?” 

your mouth drops open, but before you can say anything, the camera light flicks on, signaling that you’re live. the camera is pointed towards heeseung’s bed behind you as heeseung ushers you to sit on his usual gaming chair, he stands beside it. 

“hi guys,” heeseung says cooly to the camera. he lowly chuckles to himself as the comments start pouring in. there seems to be hundreds of comments in a second about “darlingdove01” and heeseung’s face. a lot of the comments are talking about how hot heeseung is and that they “always knew he’d be hot!”.  

“today we have a very special guest, darlingdove01 is here,” heeseung gestures to you. you wave at the camera, watching the viewer numbers grow higher and higher as the introduction continues. “and she told me that she likes anything… but anal.” 

“hey!” you shove him playfully with your shoulder. 

he only chuckles before continuing, resting his arm over the back of his gaming chair behind your head, “so today, i’m gonna do anything to please her.” he takes his other hand and cups your chin so you’re forced to look at him, “does that sound alright, darling?”

“yes,” you tell him, watching his warm brown eyes turn darker as you make eye contact. you can tell he’s no longer heeseung, but instead he’s “hluvsbabes”. 

“yes what?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“good girl,” heeseung leans down and presses his lips onto yours. you don’t have time to register that you are kissing the hluvsbabes. his lips are soft against yours, but their movements are deep and rough. just from the kiss you can tell what direction this live stream is going in. he pulls away too soon for your liking, “pull up your shirt.” 

your hands reach for the bottom hem of your shirt and lift them so your bare breasts are visible to heeseung and the audience. 

“fuck,” heeseung groans, his hands cupping both of them. both of you mentally note how perfectly they fit in his warm hands. he turns to the camera, “doesn’t she have the most beautiful tits?” 

heeseung starts to tweak both your nipples in between his thumbs and forefingers. your hand flies to grip the handle of the chair, your back arches into his touch. 

“that feel good?” he asks you with a smirk, obviously amused by your reaction. 

“yes, sir. they’re sensitive,” you admit. 

“are they?” heeseung tilts his head, “keep playing with them, then.” 

your hands replace heeseung’s. your hands are definitely not as big and as warm as heeseung’s. but you massage your breasts, your fingers playing with your nipples like he told you to. 

meanwhile, heeseung starts to kiss down your revealed torso, his hands unzipping and pulling down your shorts so fast. you watch him get down on his knees in between your legs, his hot breath against your panties. heeseung groans once he’s eye level with your core and can see the faint wet strip on them. he could always see how wet you were on livestream, but now he gets to see in person. 

“i wanna make you feel good,” heeseung says against your skin, pressing kisses on your inner thighs, your legs spread wide for the camera to see. “are you gonna do whatever i say?” 

“yes, sir.” you nod down at him, watching his tongue lick his lips so close to your pussy. ‘i wanna be your slut.” 

heeseung chuckles against your skin, his fingers slip inside your panties as he speaks, “let me feel my slut’s pussy then.” 

you take a deep breath as his fingers start to massage your clit, exploring your pussy for the first time. he’s thought about his fingers touching you so many times before. he could hardly believe that you were actually in front of him right now. 

“you want me to taste your pussy, darling?” 

“please,” your voice sounds so breathy when you speak again, his fingers pressing hard. 

“ask me to.” 

“please taste my pussy, sir.” 

with that heeseung slides his middle finger into your core. it feels so long as it reaches right to your g spot immediately, as if he knew it’d be there. your jaw drops open as he pushes his finger in and out. a whine leaving your mouth as you start to move your hips to meet his finger. his palm is massaging your clit as he moves his fingers in and out of your core. 

heeseung then pulls his finger out of you, “take off your panties, show everyone your pussy.” heeseung leans more to the side as you do what he says. your panties drop to the floor and your legs are on either side of his gaming chair. “fuck, doesn’t she have the most perfect pussy, everyone?” heeseung is staring at the camera as he massages your thighs. 

heeseung’s lips meet your core before you can comprehend. he’s making out with your clit, the sloppy sounds fill your ears and the audience’s as he sucks your clit into his mouth. he reaches his finger up to slide into your core again, so easily. 

“my finger barely fits in there,” heeseung smirks. 

his mouth continues to lick and suck on every part of your pussy. his tongue circles your clit in his mouth. your hand is gripping the chair arm as you watch him, unable to contain your moans. 

“fuck yes, sir.” you cry out, throwing your head back from pleasure. you don’t think anyone has been able to make you feel this good with their mouth before. your ex’s could never make you cum at all. 

heeseung is moaning against your core, letting you and the audience know that he is also enjoying this, “god this pussy tastes so good, tastes better than i’d ever imagined before.” your stomach tightens at his words, feeling high on the pleasure heeseung’s mouth and fingers is giving you so easily and the audience watching you both. “keep playing with those tits, darling.” 

your hands fly up to your sensitive nipples, almost forgotten by how pretty heeseung looks while he makes out with your pussy. your body’s whole senses are heightened. heeseung can start to feel you clench around his fingers as your hips start to buck up to his mouth, wanting more of him. 

“fuck that feels so good.” you whine out, your eyebrows furrowing together at the pleasure. 

“are you gonna cum?” heeseung asks lowly. he watches you nod at him, unable to form words. 

then, heeseung rips away from you. his mouth and finger gone and before you can realize, he’s standing again beside you. his hand wrapped around your neck gently– forcing you to look at him with your legs spread. 

“you have to ask for permission if you want to cum,” heeseung’s voice is stern as he looks you in the eyes, “understand?” 

“yes, sir.” 

heeseung’s smile returns as his hand leaves your neck, “here, taste yourself.” your mouth opens for heeseung to slide his finger inside your mouth. your lips close around his finger, sucking it into your mouth as your tongue swirls around it, wanting to taste yourself. “good girl.” heeseung removes his finger, and instead presses a kiss to your lips, softly, passionately, as if to check in on you. but you’re so hungry for an orgasm that you really would do anything right now. “are you ready to make me feel good?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“get on your knees.” 

you sit up, closing your legs for the first time and feeling how wet your inner thighs were. heeseung pushes his chair to the side as he stands, looking down at you as you kneel before him. “you wanna suck my cock?” heeseung questions you, noticing how you tighten your thighs at his question. his hand slides down on your chin for you to look up at him. you nod in response to him. “ask me.” 

“can i suck your cock, sir?” 

“good girl, take it out.” 

your hands work to unbutton his pants, pulling them down to his upper thigh to release his cock. you just have to stop and marvel at it. there in front of you is hluvsbabes huge cock that you had thought about stretching you out for weeks. it’s much bigger in person you think. it’s hard, and the tip is so pink as some veins swirl down it. 

“open your mouth.” heeseung starts to glide his dick into your mouth. your hand coming up to grip the base of it as your lips close around the tip. “god, keep those eyes on me.” heeseung groans out as you start to such his cock. heeseung keeps his hand on your head, hsi fingers meshing with your hair. 

you do keep your eyes on him with as much of his cock as you can manage in your mouth. your hand jerks what you can’t fit as you moan against his dick. 

“god you’re so big sir,” 

“yeah? think it’ll fit inside your pussy? think it’ll stretch you out so good?” heeseung retorts, watching your mouth work on his cock. he’d be lying if he said you weren’t making him close to his orgasm already, your innocent eyes looking at him as your mouth sucks his soul out. 

“yes, sir, please– want your cock so bad.” you speak before going back to sucking his cock. your tongue circles the hot, pink tip of it before tracing the delicious veins. your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth. 

“are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth?” 

you nod at him with his cock still fully in your mouth. heeseung moves both of his hands to grip your head as your own hand drops to your thighs, so tempted to play with your clit, but you know sir wouldn’t approve. 

heeseung starts to slowly move his hips so his cock moves in and out of your mouth. he stops when the tip is at your throat– feeling your throat tighten against the tip. he almost pulls out fully everytime, just so that the tip is at your swollen lips before he pushes back in again. 

“oh, my fucking god,” heeseung moans out, looking at the camera monitor to see him fucking your pretty mouth. your mouth feels too good for him to even notice that the viewer count is at 16,000. “play with my balls like a good girl.” 

heeseung continues to fuck your mouth as your hand reaches fro his balls. they are heavy in your palm as you start to massage them gently. tugging on them and moving them around easily with your salvia that has dripped down. 

heeseung pulls his dick fully out of your mouth, letting you breathe for a moment. you could feel your pussy drip down onto his carpet– you hoped it wouldn’t stain. 

“open your mouth,” heeseung tells you. your jaw drops open, revealing your used tongue and mouth. heeseung leans over you and let’s a drop of his spit lands right onto your tongue before he starts to hit his dick against your tongue. he mixes your spit with his on his cock and both of you groan out at that the thought of it. 

heeseung goes back to fucking your mouth. his grip on your head tight as he’s picked up the pace of his hips. his cock sliding so quickly in and out of your mouth. the sounds of your saliva and gurgling against his cock fill the room and microphone. 

“that’s it, like that, like that like a good girl,” heeseung groans out his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his own pleasure boiling. probably boiling too much if he wants this to last any longer. 

heeseung pulls away from you and pulls you with him for you to sit on the floor while he moves back to sit on the edge of his bed, his feet on the ground for you to sit in between them. your chest is heaving from excitement and lack of air. you watch as heeseung pulls down his pants fully and throws them on the floor beside his bed. 

heeseung’s hand wraps around your neck as he looks down at you, “you ready to get fucked, darling?” 

“yes, please.”

“ask me to fuck you.” 

“can you please fuck me, sir.” 

“get up on the bed and turn around.” 

heeseung’s voice is demanding as you scramble to stand up, your knees tired from kneeling for so long. you get up on his bed for the first time. you turn around so your ass is towards him in the air, your face pressed into his bed. 

heeseung pushes your chest further into his bed by placing his hand on your back, “stay like this like a good girl, okay?” 

“yes, sir.” 

“i’m gonna fuck this little pussy just like the slut you are.” heeseung grunts, spreading your ass cheeks more for him to slide his cock right inside of you.

the stretch of his cock is just what you imagined it would be. it’s almost blissful once he’s fully inside. you can feel the tip of his cock basically reaching your cervix. once he’s bottomed out completely, both of you groan out into his bedroom, pleasure taking over both of you. 

“there we go, darling,” heeseung grunts through his teeth as he starts to slide back out of you. both of you feel each and every vein of his cock sliding against your oh, so wet walls. “let sir fuck you like a slut.”

heeseung’s one hand grips your waist as the other one stays on your back. his hips quickly pick up pace, his cock easily going in and out of you due to his saliva and your juices mixing together. your hands grip the blanket on his bed, crying out into the bed as you finally get what you want. 

“oh my god it’s so big!” you whine out, your eyes trying to focus on the camera. 

“yeah? it’s so big and full just for you, it’s all just for you.” heeseung grunts out, his bangs covering his forehead like usual, his eyes entranced only on you. he watches as your entire body jerks forward everytime he slams his cock into you. his hands run down and grab your ass, wanting to finally feel it after he’s seen it so many times on your livestreams. 

heeseung slaps your ass, making you cry out a curse. the pain of it turning you on even more. you can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs as heeseung fucks you even rougher. heeseung’s balls are soaked from your juices. 

“reach down and rub your clit for me.” heeseung demands you, trying to keep his voice steady when he speaks.

you manage to sneak your arm under your body to start rubbing circles on your clit with your index and middle fingers. you instantly cry out. with your fingers on your clit and heeseung managing to hit your g spot with every single thrust the pleasure starts to boil up more and more in your tummy. 

“oh shit!” 

“you better not cum unless i tell you to,” heeseung smacks your ass again, harder, a warning. “you hear me?” 

“fu-fuck yes, sir.” 

heeseung suddenly grabs you up from the bed from under your arms, mumbling a “come here” before he turns you to face the camera. both of you standing now with his cock still lunged inside of you. 

“let everyone see this fucking slut’s body.” heeseung grunts out, staring directly at the camera as he continues to thrust up into you from the back. he reaches over your front, rubbing your clit for you now. your head is thrown back onto his shoulder, trying to keep standing upwards. “you like everyone seeing me use you like this? like using you to get off?” 

“f-fuck sir, can i cum? please?” you whine out, barely being able to keep your eyes open as you look at him. 

“yeah? you wanna cum, darling?” heeseung voice is almost teasing as he doesn’t stop his movements. 

“please let me cum, sir. please i’m so close.” 

“ok, cum for me, do it.” heeseung nods, his grunts loud in your ear as he manages to fuck you faster and faster. 

you can’t lift your head from being thrown back onto heeseung’s shoulder. your body feels weak as heeseung fucks you infront of the camera, probably hundreds of people watching you come undone on hluvsbabes’ cock. you’ve been so close to orgasming for which feels like hours at this point. 

“i’m cumming! i-i’m cumming!” you manage to cry out. your moans get higher in pitch as you finally reach your high. 

if heeseung wasn't holding your body up with his arms, then you wouldn’t fell straight to the floor. the pleasure was almost over consuming. your body was on high sensitivity everywhere. to be honest, it had been awhile since anyone besides yourself or your vibrator had made you cum. that probably not getting any dick for a while and then fucking the hluvsbabes would probably make you feel as lightheaded as you do now. 

heeseung gently pulls his cock from you, his hands slowing down on your clit before pulling away from it. he leads you to lay down on his bed. your head is on his pillow as he crawls on top of you. your bodies are still very visible to the camera from the way his bed is positioned. 

heeseung starts to press soft, gentle kisses into your neck and jaw, letting you calm down from your very obvious, hard climax. 

you hear heeseung chuckle into your ear before he speaks, “is this a bad time to tell you that i donated to you on your livestream before?” 

through your post-nut haze, your eyes widen as you process the information, “what? when?” 

heeseung laughs before he moves down your body, kissing every (sweaty) inch that he could, “a few days ago i guess, darling. i’ve watched your streams quite a lot to be honest.” 

the way the nickname rolls off his tongue so easily makes it click in your head. “oh my god, you were the person who donated like 200$ the other day!” you also start laughing at the realization. who could not believe that hluvsbabes not only watched multiple of your streams, but also donated to you. your competitor for top creator was also boosting your content. 

“yeah, i didn’t know how or if i should tell you that. but i guess now is the better time.” heeseung pulls away from your body so he’s on his knees hovering over you. “now put those legs up, let me see your swollen pussy again.” 

heeseung helps guide you to hook your arms around your knees, holding your legs up, pressed against your chest. your entire core is exposed for not only heeseung’s eyes, but the camera’s and all of the audience’s. 

“god please but your cock back inside of me, sir.” 

heeseung drags his cock through your folds teasingly, “yeah? the slut wants to be stretched out again?” 

“yes! sir, yes!” 

heeseung guides his cock back inside of you with his hand, bottoming out completely in one thrust. your arms stay hooked around your knees, your hands resting on your ankles to keep yourself from squirming from the pleasure. 

heeseung leans over you, his hand coming down to choke you again. his grip on your neck tight as he starts the previous pace he had. rough and hard. your whole body moves with every thrust, his headboard hitting his wall. 

“oh fuck oh fuck!” you cry out, your pussy so sensitive from being overstimulated. 

heeseung could feel your walls flutter around his cock, “you better not cum.” he pulls his cock out again, his hand slaps the tip of his cock over your clit, making you jerk up into his pillows. “tell me you won’t cum without permission, slut.” 

“i-i won’t cum without permission, sir.” 

heeseung slides back into you, his pace rough. the banging of his headboard in rhythm with his thrusts. your cries of pleasure mixing with his grunts. heeseung keeps both of his hands on your waist as he hovers over you. his main focus is to fuck you so good that you forget everything else. and by the way your eyes start to haze over with pleasure he can tell that he isn’t too far from it. 

“keep your legs up,” heeseung grunts to you, reminding you to keep your knees by your face. your swollen pussy is visible to him now. he has clear access to see his cock fucking into you. your lips are so puffy that he can’t help his thumb rubbing your also swollen clit. your head is thrown back into the pillow, his hard, circles on your clit mixing with his hard thrusts are overpowering you completely. 

heeseung leans over you, his hand gripping your neck again. his face is inches from you, his lips almost on yours. his thrusts don’t stop as he chokes you. 

“you like being a good girl for me?” heeseung asks you more quietly, loosening his grip on your neck for a moment to let you speak. 

“y-yes sir, i love it.” you nod up to him, completely submissive to him. 

“turn around for me again, then.” 

although your body felt weak from the pleasure, your adrenaline was rushing enough for you to be able to get up and turn over quite quickly. your ass up in the air as you grip onto the pillow in front of you. you feel heeseung behind you, lining up his hard, soaked cock with your soaked pussy. 

“push back on it, darling.” 

you let your knees push back, feeling his cock insert inside of you, filling you up yet again. this angle made him feel even bigger. his cock pressing into your cervix is only when you stop pushing back. heeseung’s hands land palm down on your ass when you bottom out. the pain makes you jut forward. the moan that escapes your lips as the pain settles on your ass is sinful. 

“god, i love your ass,” heeseung smacks it again, watching it start to turn red, turning him on more he thought his cock was going to explode any minute now. 

with that thought, heeseung starts sliding in and out of you again. his hand reaching over your back to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your upper half backward. the pain from his pulling makes you cry out in the best way. all of your senses seem to be overcome by heeseung. your grip on his pillow that smelt like him, tightened. 

“you like being fucked like this? like being used?” heeseung grunts out to you, his own eyebrows furrowing together as your walls clench around him. 

“ye-yeah, sir.” 

“say it.” 

“i like being used, sir.” 

“look at me while i fuck you.” 

with his hand still pulling your hair, you turn your head to look at him. his face is flushed, his lips are swollen from probably biting them so much. there’s sweat dripping down his line of abs that you just want to lick off. his bangs are sweaty and stuck to his forehead. he looks so hot. 

heeseung continues to fuck you until his thrusts get sloppy, his grunts get softer and his headboard isn’t banging against his wall. you turn to look at him, “let me ride you.” 

his hand smacks against one of your ass cheeks, making you cry out, “ask me.” 

“can i please ride you, sir?” 

heeseung pulls out of you, both of you switching places so now heeseung’s head is in the pillow that you were gripping. his legs are flat out against the bed as you crawl over him. both of your knees are on either side of him as you look down at him now. 

slowly, you start to sink down onto his cock. you close your eyes as he bottoms out in you once again. this angle felt entirely different. you could feel how hard and big he was inside of you. heeseung’s hands run up and down your bare thighs, letting you get use to the angle. 

“you good?” he asks from below you, concern on his face. 

“yeah, just sensitive -is all.” you shrug to him and start to move slowly. you start out slow, wanting to build both of your orgasms again. your knees lift your body up and down with the help of heeseung’s hands on your waist, he helps lift you. 

your hands grip your tits, massaging them again. your sensitive nipples hard against your palm. you start to bounce down on his harder, his tip hitting your g spot everytime now. you cry out in pleasure again. 

“fuck just like that,” you tell him, your eyes closed as you nod to him. 

“like that?” heeseung teases you, his cock hitting your g spot again. 

“y-yes,” you tell him, bouncing harder. 

“fuck, i love his pussy,” heeseung grunts to you, “so warm and tight around my cock.” 

“oh my god,” your body falls forward, your hands resting on either side of his head as heeseung takes over the thrusts completely. his hands on your waist as he thrusts his hips upwards into your pussy. “fuck, sir.” 

heeseungs grip on you leaves you to go nowhere. just stay on top of him as he fucks into you. your knees feel weak against his mattress. you can feel his balls slapping your ass every time he bottoms out in you. heeseung can feel your juices dripping down onto his lower stomach. 

“okay turn around, slut, let the audience see you.” heeseung gently pushes your core up and off of him. your mind feels dazed as heeseung has to literally, physically flip you over on him. 

now that you’re in reverse cowgirl, you can see yourself in the camera’s monitor. heeseung lays underneath you still, so just your bare body can be seen completely. you look so different you usually do, you’re glowing. 

your feet and arms hold your body up over heeseung, his hands on your waist as he slides himself up into you. 

“oh fuck!” you cry out, watching heeseung dick disappear inside of you in the camera. you start to bounce up and down on his cock again, though you keep your eyes open to watch yourself. 

“shit, keep going, baby.” heeseung grunts below you, “just like that.” 

with every thrust heeseung’s balls are hitting your clit. you can hear a wet squelch between your bodies everytime you move. your pussy is so wet around his cock. heeseung wraps his arm around your body, massaging your clit with his fingers in a circle once again. 

“yes, sir! rub my clit, sir please!” you cry out to him. your hands sturdy yourself on his chest behind you as you continue to bounce on him. his cock filling you up every time. his hard balls slapping against your pussy. his fingers keep moving against your clit. “i’m so close, sir, so close!” 

suddenly, heeseung’s fingers stop and he’s pushing you off of him. your chest is heaving as you look back on him. your pussy is clamping around nothing, so desperate to cum. 

“lay down,” heeseung is also out of breath when he speaks, “wanna see your face when you cum.” heeseung grabs your forearm and helps you lay down again. he puts your one leg up to your face, allowing him access to slide into your fucking soak pussy again. 

heeseung holds your leg up, while the other starts to rub your clit again. his thrusts continue to stretch you out, to hit your cervix over and over again. you aren’t sure how much longer you can last with this much pleasure he continuously gives you. you’ve never had sex this good before. 

“want me to fill up your little pussy?” heeseung grunts above you. 

“yes, sir.” 

“ask me.” 

“please cum inside of me!” you cry out, heeseung’s hand smacks your thigh before returning to hold your leg up, “own this pussy, fucking own it it’s yours!” 

“oh fuck!” heeseung grunts out, your words making him closer to his own orgasm so quickly. 

“oh my god i wanna feel you fill me up so bad, sir.” you were becoming so desperate, so needy. you wanted to cum so bad. you wanted heeseung to cum so bad. 

“fuck me, keep talking, keep talking, darling.” 

“please cum inside of me! i want it so bad!” you tell him honestly. his thrusts making your whole body move with each thrust. you can feel his cock start to twitch inside of you. his moans getting higher, mixing with your own. 

“fuck, baby, i’m gonna fucken cum,” heeseung tells you, his fingers rubbing your clit faster and harder. 

“me too, me too.” you cry out, your eyes closing as the pleasure takes over you. 

heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed together as the pleasure became too much for him, too. curses and moans fill up his bedroom– entertain the audience that’s watching you through the camera. he feels your walls clench harder around him than ever before as his cock starts to spurt his white sperm. 

heeseung paints your walls with his cum as you grip his forearms tight. your second orgasm making your body feel numb from how good you feel. his thrusts finally stop as his grunts slow down. his cock rests inside of you as he lays on top of you. both of you catching your breaths and coming down from your highs for one second. 

“fuck,” heeseung curses in your ear, his chest heaving against yours. he finally pulls out of you, both of you watching his cum slowly trickle out of your pussy. “god that’s so hot.”  heeseung reaches down to swipe some of his cum. 

you immediately open your mouth, wanting a taste of it. heeseung rests his fingers on your tongue, letting you taste his salty sperm. you moan around his fingers, sucking them dry of his cum. 

“you’re such a good girl.” heeseung grunts out, “you’re gonna make me hard again.” 

you laugh around his fingers, “i wouldn’t be opposed to that.” 

heeseung smirks at you and kisses you deeply. both of your eyes closing as you welcome the other’s lips. the taste of heeseung’s cum not bothering either of you. 

heeseung pulls away from you and is the first to stand up. he reaches over and tosses you his shirt to slip on before he heads back to his computer desk. 

you easily slip on his shirt and pull his sheets and blanket over top of your bare legs. 

“holy shit.” heeseung exclaims, pure shock and what almost sounds like fear in his voice. 

“what?” you sit up in his bed properly, trying to look at his computer screen. 

“there’s 30,000 viewers right now.” 

“holy shit.” you cover your mouth. you had never had that many viewers before in your life. 30,000 viewers, it’s literally like yours and heeseung’s fan bases came together to view your live stream. 

heeseung clears his throat, “uh, thank you guys so much, really. we hope you enjoyed, right?” he looks over at you from his shoulder. 

“right, we’ll see you next time, hopefully. thank you.” 

“right, because there definitely needs to be a next time.” heeseung winks and with a final wave he ends the stream. you notice the red light on the camera turns off. 

you lay back in heeseung’s pillows, feeling tired as your legs gain back their strength. you hear heeseung hum gently as he fixes things on his computer, on his hluvsbabes account. you feel relaxed as you lay in his bed, wanting to sleep so bad. 

“holy shit!” heeseung yells louder suddenly, his humming stopping as he pushes his chair back, standing up in only his boxers. 

“what?” your heart races, concerned from his yelling. “what happened?”

“y/n,” heeseung turns to you with a silly grin on his face, “do you know how much money we made off of that?” 

you sit up straight, leaning closer to him though he’s meters away, “how much, heeseung.” 

heeseung can’t contain his excitement when he states, “15k.” 

“oh my god!” you cover your mouth, not believing what you’re hearing. “you’re fucking lying.” 

“no i’m not! come look!” 

you stand up, legs wobbling a bit, but heeseung catches your arm nonchalantly. bringing you over to sit in his chair again. there, on the computer screen, is the number 15,000$ in tips connected to the livestream you had finished. 

“oh my god, heeseung!” you turn to him, your excitement meeting his. both of you wrap your arms around each other, your squeals filling the room as you rock side to side with excitement. “15k!” 

“15k!” heeseung shouts back as he pulls away slightly, his hands still on your waist. 

“now we definitely have to do it again.” you tease him. 

heeseung smiles, but you notice his shoulders tense, “yeah, but before that,” heeseung swallows harshly, “could we go on a date?’ 

you sit up in his chair, wearing his shirt and nothing else, “wow, the hluvsbabes wants to go on a date with me.” 

“of course, i mean, i recently got a lot of money. so, i can spend it all on you.” 

you shove his shoulder with your hand, “of course i’ll go on a date with you, heeseung.” 

“really?” heeseung asks, his face lighting up so prettily. 

“yeah, but only if you fuck me really good after.” 

“that, i can definitely promise.”

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

[yuujispinkhair]

Boxer!Sukuna headcanons

Inspired by this lovely ask. Thank you so much for sending me that and making me lose my mind over Boxer!Sukuna.

Pairing: Boxer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, modern AU, smut, squirting. Mentions of boxing injuries, biting, blood. I know that boxers usually wear a groin protector, but I chose to ignore this for this AU because I wanted to write a sexy detail lol. Sukuna + Reader are in a relationship. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always wants you by his side backstage until it's time for him to enter the arena. You are his good luck charm and the only one who is allowed to wrap the bandages around his hands before he slips into his gloves. Not that he needs any luck with the skills he has, but he loves seeing you press your sweet kisses on his boxing gloves and smile at him before you hug him tightly and tell him to please be careful.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gets a warm feeling in his heart when he sees how worried you always are. Much more nervous before his fights than he is. But he always reassures you, wrapping his muscular tattooed arms tightly around you and hugging you to his firm body while he tells you, "Don't worry, princess. You know I never lose."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who smiles while you help him get dressed before a fight, helping him slip into the white silk kimono he wears for his ring entrance show. He can clear his mind the best when he feels your gentle hands caressing over his broad back.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gives you his most charming smile before he grabs your chin and asks you for a good luck kiss, not just on his boxing gloves but also on his lips.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always tells you he loves you before he leaves the backstage area. And hearing your "I love you, too" in return gives him another surge of motivation.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose ring-entrance show always makes the crowd go wild. The whole arena is bathed in blood-red light. A picture of an ancient shrine in a sea of blood gets projected onto the large screens. Dramatic classical music starts playing as a huge throne of skulls emerges from the fog, with Sukuna lounging casually on it, his head resting on the back of his hand. He's wearing the snow-white kimono and a crown on his pink hair, presenting himself as The King of Curses, which is his stage name.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose stage name fits him perfectly. One look at him and his powerful body and that dangerous and ambitious glint in his eyes, and everyone knows this guy is truly a King in the boxing ring.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gracefully walks towards the ring with an arrogant look on his tattooed face, only accompanied by his assistant Uraume, who walks a few steps behind him as if they are a loyal shrine servant who follows their master obediently. They take off Sukuna's kimono for him and bow respectfully while the crowd cheers loudly.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks intimidating but beautiful as he stands there with a posture like a God while the white silk slips off his broad shoulders and reveals all the firm muscles and the sexy tattoos on his tall, athletic body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who drops his serious act the moment he climbs into the ring and instead smirks his most charming smirk and lifts a hand to casually wave at his fans, letting them celebrate him as if he already won.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose last glance before every match belongs to you, though. As much as he enjoys the attention and worship from his fans, he always loves your gaze on him the most. You are the one who grounds him before a fight, the one who gives him the strength and the right mindset to lead him to victory.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose maroon eyes look directly into yours while he kisses his boxing gloves, at the same spot where your lips left their kisses a few minutes ago backstage. And right before he turns around to face the referee and his opponent, he winks at you and mouths, "I'll win this fight for you, baby".

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who already mocks his opponent before the fight even starts. Smiling tauntingly at him and asking him if he is scared. "You know, you can still run, little boy."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy during his fights. All of his attacks are powerful and well-planned. He moves gracefully through the ring, like a big cat on the prowl, beautiful and deadly. Everyone can see that he isn't someone who just relies on his brute strength. Sukuna is intelligent, and he uses his mind to win his fights.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is both hated and loved by the judges. They hate how cocky he is but admire his skills and respect him for how well-prepared he is for his matches.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wins most of his fights with a knockout, laughing triumphantly when the referee counts down the seconds.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who only loses fights when he gets disqualified for committing a foul. Sometimes, he bites his opponents, drawing blood with his sharp teeth and laughing as he licks the blood off his lips. You know that this is also part of Sukuna's strategy. He is too controlled to let himself get carried away during a fight, but he loves the reputation those bloody attacks give him, basking in the fear he sees in his opponents' eyes when he whispers to them before a fight, "Did you see the guy I bit last month? Let's see how your blood tastes on my tongue."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is brilliant at blocking punches but also cannot be stopped if he gets hit. You used to be worried sick when you saw him receiving blows to the head until Sukuna reassured you that he is allowing it on purpose. It's all for the show. And sometimes, because he craves the pain since, it will spur him on even more.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who laughs after every punch his opponent lands, smirking cat-like as he licks the blood off his cracked lip, and his wild maroon eyes glitter amusedly at the other guy: "Aww, was that all you can do, brat? Gimme more, come on! Punch me! Make me bleed for real, you coward!"

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy with his tattooed skin all sweaty, every muscle in his tall, strong body taut. His veins standing out, and his broad chest rising and sinking as he breathes deeply. The outline of his long, thick cock visible through his dark red boxing shorts, making you want him so much.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wears a sexy smirk on his beautiful tattooed face when he gets declared winner. He looks deeply into your eyes when the referee yanks his hand into the air to signal his win. This first moment is always for you alone, mesmerizing maroon eyes silently telling you that Sukuna dedicates this win to you.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who then punches his fist into the air and does a little round in the ring to let the crowd celebrate him like the King that he is. He is a professional, giving his fans what they crave, even while he craves something very different at that moment after a match.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who expects you to wait for him in his private locker room backstage, naked and wet, with your legs spread, ready to get taken by him.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who takes you rough and hard. He needs to fuck you to come down again after being so pumped up during his fight. His tall, muscular body is still dripping with sweat, smelling so sexy, a mix of sweat and musk and his expensive cologne. His breath is loud and harsh in your ear, turning into low, hoarse groans as he pounds your cunt with his cock and his heavy balls, just like he pounded his opponent with his fists.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who rubs your swollen clit firmly and whispers dirty things in your ear, making sure you give him your everything and squirt all over him when you cum on his fat cock.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who coos at you and calls you his good girl, his love, as he chases his own orgasm, finally allowing himself to let go, fucking you with hard erratic thrusts, his face buried in your neck, moaning loudly until he captures your lips in a heated kiss when he shoots his hot cum into your cunt.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who cuddles you afterward, pressing himself tightly against you while he is still buried balls-deep inside you, resting his forehead against yours and thanking you for being his lucky charm and the one who gives him strength. He stays like that, pressing you down with his heavy body, kissing you tenderly until his breathing finally calms down and the sweat on his body begins to dry.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who picks you up and murmurs to you, "Hold on to me, princess," before he carries you to the shower, not letting go of you even for a second, needing his princess on his cock and in his arms.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who showers with you and lets you wash him, sighing when you massage shower gel into his taut muscles, caressing him, and cleaning him, easing the tension in his body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who returns the favor and lets his large, calloused hands wander gently over your naked and soaped-up body while he kisses you nonstop. Who caresses another orgasm out of you while you stroke his long thick cock slowly, making him spill his seed all over your hand.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who isn't the famous boxer, The King of Curses, anymore, when he is here under the shower with you. Here he is just Sukuna, your fiancé, who is joking around with you, all playful again, grinning that sexy grin and kissing you so sweetly, whispering against your skin how much you mean to him, and asking you where you want to have a late dinner tonight.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who fucks you once more, this time against the shower wall with your legs wrapped tightly around his hips and your hands in his pink hair. But this time, it is slow, sensual lovemaking. Slow, deep thrusts and tender French kisses until you both find completion at the same time and moan into each other's mouth. The perfect finish for a successful match.

HE IS SO SEXY 😭😭 I didn't know I would write so much for Boxer!Sukuna, but I enjoyed it so much to think of his dramatic ring-entrance show and the way he boxes, etc. I hope you enjoyed it too!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[honeypiehotchner]

Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)

Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation

WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes. 

The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork. 

Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make. 

“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”

You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.

Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”

You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention. 

Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.

But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.

Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.

He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.

“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”

“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.

He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”

“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”

“Honey, we can’t have--”

“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”

His hands squeeze again. “I see.”

You frown. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”

You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.

“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.

“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.

“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom. 

Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.

You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.

“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.

You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”

He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.

“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”

“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”

“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”

You can’t help it; you laugh. 

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say. 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor. 

You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.

Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.

“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”

“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.

“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”

That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break. 

The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you. 

You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.

“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You nod. “Green. You?”

He smirks. “Absolutely.”

He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.

“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.

He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.

There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.

So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs. 

You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting. 

You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.

The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.

Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex. 

He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.

He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be. 

All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours. 

It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.

He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.

He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.

You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”

He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”

“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”

He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.

The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.

“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”

His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.

It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak. 

You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you. 

Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you. 

You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.

Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven. 

Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm. 

He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”

“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.

“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.

It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside. 

He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.

It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”

You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.

You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.

He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out. 

He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you. 

Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist. 

“You need to rest,” he chides softly.

“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”

He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”

“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”

You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”

He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”

“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”

You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.

[fairene]

one of your girls / ln4

part one

lando norris x fem!reader

reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n.

part two

you are just one of his girls. a frequent regular. but something changes, and you are his favorite.

a/n ⋯ how do i explain myself...? guess i can't! this will be divided into two parts for the sake of dramatics, and truthfully i can't contain my excitement to share this with you all. reader's dresses are left to be ambiguous for your imagination, only the cut of the dress is described (perhaps a color, once, but i forget); as usual, it is always up to YOU what you are wearing;) i will be focusing on requests before the next part comes out!

inspiration ⋯ VIDEO

warnings ⋯ SMUT / 18++ minors DNI!!! language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), oral(m!receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, but not here; non monogamous (yet), insecure reader.

wc ⋯11.3k (unedited.)

your phone rang in from your bag, the vibration shocking you from your conference room in new york. you had been visiting there for your job, meeting with clients, and overall needing to schmooze the entire fucking office. you were sick of it at this point. 

and it was sunday, too. who works on a fucking sunday? you. because what’s life without the overtime pay? 

until you saw lando’s contact card lighting up your screen. you blushed, instantly, thinking of just how a week ago he had you laid out on his monaco penthouse, screaming and weeping his name while he fucked you rabidly. 

you answered, clearing your throat. 

“hello?” 

“i won! i won!” he shouted, the background noise of crowds drowning out the baritone of his voice. you raised a brow, but were quick to connect the dots. you’d been so busy with work that you’d forgotten that the race must’ve been over, you were only able to watch the beginning before you were swooped up into a meeting. 

your hand flew to cover your mouth as you stepped into your office, shutting the door. you couldn’t be loud, and tears began to welt in your eyes. “did you really?” 

“yes, yes! god, i’ve wanted this so bad…” he was absolutely full of rile and cheer. you could hear that from his voice clear as day. you were so happy for him. you wiped a stray tear that fell down your face and rolled to your chin. 

“i’m so happy for you, lan.” you breathed, laughing when your voice hitched with emotion. you knew that he caught it, letting out his own gasp at your retention. 

“you cryin’ for me?” he said your name, know damn well he had a cheeky smirk on his face. you scoffed, rolling your eyes and even he could hear the action. 

“shut up. let me be happy for you.” he laughed again, deep and rich, but relieved that you picked up the phone. it was hard for him to get your attention, though you felt vice versa. 

“let me be happy, then,” your brows raised at what he meant. “come to miami. tonight.”

you froze, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your work shirt. “lando…” you sighed. “you know i can’t…”

“please…!” he whined into the phone. 

your resilience to him was not good. clearly.

“call my boss.” you heard him yip and pop his lips. he was giddy and thrilled that you accepted his advances. it never did take much, though, did it? 

you hung up the phone before you could say anything else and settled back into your temporary station before you were back in monaco full time. the office here was more than sufficient and, you couldn’t help but thank god that you were here when lando called. the flight to miami wouldn’t be more than three hours. 

your boss knocked on the door a few minutes later with her brows raised. 

she spoke her name and you perked up. “you didn’t tell me you had family in miami,” she said, crossing her arms. but she wasn’t angry. 

“i do.” the lie was swift. but it wasn't really a lie, was it…?

“your cousin called me, said that you need to use pto hours for a wedding…” she looked at her apple watch. “which is in a few hours?” 

you gulped. “what can i say,” you shrugged, “i’m a workaholic.”

your boss shrugged, turning to leave. “take the week off, you deserve it.”

so this is what working so hard got you? damn. you practically leapt off your seat, packing away your laptop and other essentials you had brought to the office. when you were skipping down the steps of the building to the parking garage, you got a text. 

flight leaves 6

> one attachment 

it was lando. you opened the text as you were unlocking your door, realizing he sent you a boarding pass. he already filled out all your information. he wanted you there that bad, didn’t he? you wouldn’t even consider the two of you close friends rather than buddies who fuck. 

you hearted the message and raced home to pack. 

when you touched down in miami, there was a car waiting for you outside the airport. you were shocked with such lively treatment, but weren’t one to start complaining. the ride to lando’s hotel wasn’t very long, either, but it was beautiful. 

when you stepped out you were greeted by the miami breeze, refreshing from the stagnant air in your humid new york building. 

“thought you were gonna chicken out,” his voice was light and airy. you were so dazed by the grandeur of the building that you didn’t see lando standing there at the entrance. you immediately gaped at him, embarrassed that you were caught off guard. 

“on what, this? luxury? be for real!” you stifled a laugh. he held out his hand for your bag, and you gave it to him. but it was really meant for your hand. 

his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. he peppered light kisses to your neck, but not your mouth. your relationship wasn’t intimate like that, it never was. kissing was the next step to love, you told him, and you never reached for his lips with the amount of times you’ve fucked. 

but he did. 

there was always something about your aura that allured him. it drew him in like a moth to flame, and he would happily burn if it meant being in your presence. but he wasn’t ready for a relationship, so he told himself, and neither were you…so you told yourself. 

yet you’ve explored each other’s bodies like vestigios conquerors. you knew what made him tick, he knew what made you squirm. it was a fair trade, you thought, and you had no intention of staying exclusive to him. 

but you’d make it known to him that when you were both together, there were no other girls around. no boys. it would be just the two of you in your own world, but it was on a time limit. 

your hand found the back of his neck, leaning into his lips, but you pulled back when you heard some whispering– paparazzi. 

you said nothing as you shifted past him, ripping his head from your neck. he looked confused before he glanced towards the growing crowd around the hotel entrance, some phones being whipped out to record. but he honestly didn’t give a fuck. 

but you did. the last thing you wanted was to be plastered as a whore all over your feed. you still needed your fucking job. 

“what,” he said, coming closer to you. you took a distancing step back. he came closer. you didn’t move this time. “you didn’t miss me?”

him and his fucking ego. 

but you did. 

“want me to show you?” you spun around, full of sass. he let out a light laugh, pressing his shoulders back and straightening his posture. little to your knowledge, he was rendered speechless and his dick tightened in his pants. blood flooded to his abdomen, which had him shifting on his feet. this fucking girl. 

“come on,” you cooed, nudging his arm. “i came here to celebrate, no? and you haven’t even bought me a drink yet!” you got him there. he nodded, quickling showing you up to his hotel room in miami. it was a beautiful room with a living room and a single bedroom with a king bed. 

when you were up there you got a good look, running your hands over the fabric of the couch and the untouched champagne sitting on the coffee table. “this doesn’t count,” you picked up the bottle, turning to face lando from where he stood, placing your luggage on an armchair. 

“what? not expensive enough for you?” you rolled your eyes at him, placing the bottle back down on the platter with the glasses. you made haste opening your suitcase, rummaging through the outfits you brought for the duration of your stay, and in particular, your dress. 

you pulled out the carefully folded fabric. you held it out in front of you, impressed by the lack of wrinkles, and turned to lando. 

his jaw fell agape, staring at the magnificent piece. it was a longer dress that went to your mid calf, and sparkled in the dim lights of the room. he moved closer to you, running his fingers over the fabric. you gulped in his presence. 

“shit,” he sighed out, followed by a laugh. “better put it on now.” you raised a brow at him, confused. “else we won’t make it out that fuckin’ door.” 

you stifled a giggle and ran towards the bathroom, changing quickly. 

there was a knock at the front door when you were just finishing up your look. lando answered when you peeked your head out of the archway to the bathroom. it was carlos. 

“ready yet, mate?” 

lando shrugged, moving out the way so carlos could make eye contact with you. he said your name with a cheer, brushing past lando to wrap his arms around you. he kissed both your cheeks in greeting, you returned it. lando hummed to himself, wondering what that kind of affection was like from you. guess he’d never know, huh? too intimate, the words rang in his head. 

fuck off. 

“you flew today?” carlos asked you. you nodded. 

“had to celebrate, didn’t i?” you let out a giggle, covering your stained lips when you glanced at lando who was focused elsewhere, his jaw clenching. it had your joy dying in your throat, suddenly feeling like there wasn’t any reason to smile at all. 

“of course!” carlos cheered, slapping lando on the back which had him falling back to earth. “can’t believe he finally did it.” lando’s first ever formula one win was an astronomical achievement. you wish you could’ve been there in person. 

“neither can i…” your voice trailed when you were focused on his freckled face. a constellation, you called it, and could lose yourself in counting them. and lando was looking at you and your beautiful face. he was addicted to you, he learned, and no girl could fuck him like you could. 

carlos glanced between the two of you and raised his brows. “right, then.” he cleared his throat. “let’s get going then, yeah? got the whole grid celebrating you, lando!”

you were quick to put on your heels and grab your clutch. lando waited by the door for you, holding the door open. 

when you brushed by him, he grabbed your arm and twisted you around. he pushed his head close to your chest, which had you flushing. 

“lando!” you scolded beneath your breath. 

“you smell like me,” he raised a brow. 

shit. you thought he wouldn’t notice. “grabbed your cologne on accident. was rushing…replaced it with mine, see?” you raised your wrist for him to smell and he did, nose brushing against your sensitive skin. your veins pumped just beneath a thin layer. you felt him inhale and you had shivers running up your spine. he glanced at you again, dropping your hand. 

“think mine’s better.”

he meant it. you smelling just like him had him on fucking edge. he didn’t understand why it mattered to him to such a high degree. the primal inclination soaring right over his head, but he knew you were his for the night. longer he would wish, but he would take anything he could get from you. 

you only rolled your eyes at him, proceeding to walk down the hall. he caught up with you, hand coming to your lower back to guide you. when you made it to the elevator, he stuck his head into your neck again, breath hot as it fanned against your skin. you leaned into him, but stomped your heeled foot. 

“lando…” 

he grumbled something inaudible. 

“speak, won’t you?” you gripped his chin, pulling him upward. 

“driving me fuckin’ crazy.”

your breath caught in your throat. he was always touchy, but it was never this intense. the way he grumbled against the skin of your throat, the needy vibrations which plucked deeply at the strings of your heart. but there shouldn’t be any of your heart involved.

“you’re just a madman, then.” 

he chuckled. “gonna lock me up?” 

if only, you wanted to say, but held your tongue. 

“papaya does look good on you.” you giggled, hand roaming his chest. but you were right about his madness. he was sickeningly crazy. he should be institutionalized, even, in the comfort of your home. what a hell that would be, wouldn’t it?

the drive to the club was short. it wasn’t very far from the hotel. the inside of his expensive mclaren had you dazzled, though it wasn’t really his, just a rental whilst he was in miami. still, your fingers found the pleasure of finding the leather that boarded the doors, wondering just how much leather you could adorn as decoration. 

lando, on the other hand, was white knuckling the steering wheel the entire time, debating whether or not his hand would find a good home on the skin of your thigh. your dress had been too long for that, though, and he didn’t…fuck, he didn’t even know. he was anxious to be with you this weekend, not hesitating to call you to be the first one to come down to congratulate him.

he had so many other girls. why did he choose you? he didn’t know it himself, wasn’t sure if he was ready to face such intense truths, but his heart led him astray dialing your phone number. he didn’t even hesitate nor want to connect with another girl, just you. 

fucking hell, and you looked heavenly in that dress. he would spend the entire fucking night shifting his pants to hide his stark boner from your eyes. 

rolling up to the club, he gave his keys to the valet and you stepped out, fixing the fabric of your scrunched dress. you made your way over to him, elegant as ever, when the cameras began to flash. the amount of attention frightened you, and your phone fell to the ground. it clattered against the pavement. 

lando reached down smoothly to pick it up for you, his movements lingering for a moment. when he rose, his hand grazed the back of your exposed calf, trailing up your body to rest on the fabric of your lower back, the top of your ass. you wanted to swat his hand away teasingly, but for the night…you’d allow it. the cameras flashed more and more. lando only separated from you to take a few selfies with fans, but that had been it. 

his hand found your back once more, pulling the fabric down that was scrunched at the back. he also did it as an excuse to rest his hand on your ass. guilty!

and you let him. more cameras flashed. he was yours for the evening. so you’d relish in the momentary fame, but would surely be horrified by the comments the next morning. but fuck it, you looked hot in this dress and wouldn’t let these heels go to waste. let them envy you, for you were surely going to envy the next girl on his arm. what? no you weren’t. that thought was fleeting. you were shocked that you imagined of such a scenario. 

inside the club was an ambiance of celebratory cadence. it was lively. the bright lights, cheering on goers. everyone seemed to swarm lando, congratulating him and patting him on the back. he was so happy here. 

you attempted to shimmy out of the limelight to give him the attention he deserved, but he tightened his hold on you, digging his fingertips into your waist. you were surprised, looking at him with confusion, but he didn’t even take his eyes off of one of the mclaren engineers who attended the festivities. 

playing arm candy wasn’t your specialty, but you had the basics down. smile and laugh. straight posture. being fucking perfect. easy stuff, you know? surely sitting in an office chair for your day to day would enthuse a straight spine. surely listening to your old, ratty coworkers jokes would have you rolling with laughter and smiles. surely it was the easiest thing in the world to be perfect for lando norris–

your name was called by a girl at your side. it was alexandra!

you gasped, swinging out of lando’s arms and throwing yourself into her. she caught you, looking absolutely elegant while doing it, and smiled into your hair. 

“thank god you’re here!” you cheered, your hands landing on her shoulders to steady yourself. she looked stunning this evening. but she always did. you envied her for that much. 

“of course!” her french accent was sweet and endearing. her voice was even softer. “none of us would miss it. i’m glad you’re here!” 

alexandra and you had grown a relationship over the past few years you’ve been acquainted with lando. she seemed to always be where you were, and by coincidence, the two of you followed each other on tiktok and realized you had, if not, the same humor. you began messaging each other back and forth, and there you had it– a beautiful friendship between the two of you. being long distance best friends was hard, but it was times like these that you were grateful to see her. 

lando had froze when he felt you slip from his grasp, a horrible feeling of incomprehensible dread washing over him that he couldn’t pinpoint why. he interrupted the conversation he was having to see you with your arms wrapped around alexandra, kissing both of her cheeks. his face flushed, hand tightening on the drink he was given by his mates. 

why not him? 

lando excused himself and clung to your side. you jumped at the feeling of his hand around your waist, eyes snapping up to meet his… irritated ones? you were at a loss as to what could warrant such a look, but you didn’t let it linger when you shifted closer to him, your hips against his thighs. he seemed to relax both his body and face, giving alexandra a smile.

she was amidst congratulating him when charles and carlos approached. rebecca at carlos’ side. 

“is this a party or…?” charles remarked, luring you all to the center of the room to dance. lando glanced at you. you could feel his eyes, but you didn’t meet them. not yet. you thought that if you had, you wouldn’t be able to stop tonight. not with how good he looked, not with how he smelled. 

on the dance floor was no better. his hands were all over you. it was a bittersweet homecoming to feel so close to you, so flustered. but you loved the way he made you feel. pure adrenaline. alive. your hips swayed and grinded into his own, him matching your pace with a drink in his hand. there had been one in yours too, but you downed it already. 

at one point when the beat dropped, they all began to shout his name. you included. his cheeky little smile had him muster the courage to down his drink, emptying the large glass. whoops and hollers filled the club, and there were no more words to describe how magical this night was for him. he would remember it forever, and you couldn’t blame him. 

he was magnificent in the spotlight. with a charming tongue, funny jokes, and charisma that had him swooping up any girl he could want. there were a pack of women surrounding him before he pulled you by the arm, interrupting your conversation with alexandra, twirling you to be plastered against his side. the women’s attention didn’t last long after that. 

“cheeky, aren’t you?” you raised your lips to his ears, daring to lay one against the top of his throat. you felt him swallow, his adams apple thick and bobbing. 

“don’t like to be a cornered animal.” you knew it was meant to be a joke, but there was a layer of truth to it that you couldn’t ignore. lando didn’t do well in crowds without flustering with anxiety. to that truth about him, you could toast to. 

you were back on the floor with him in a matter of minutes, engaging in conversation with alexandra and charles. lando was talking to others as well, but he was firm against your back, hand on your stomach. the action had you blushing, unable to forget any time that he’d lay his hands there, asking if you could feel him. and you could. now, you could feel the imprint of his cock behind you. you didn’t know how he could last this long without asking you to fuck him in the bathroom, but you weren’t complaining. 

yet!

steadily as the night progressed, he would be laced with sweat and the smell of him. a mix of body odor, sure, it smelt like lando. your lando for the night. he flashed you a smile as he leaned over your body from behind, both hands gripping your hips against him. 

you returned the gesture, but were much more bashful than he anticipated. you were giving him that look. a look that he had become trained to respond to. his dick instantly hardened. pavlov was onto something, wasn’t he? 

you both had been there for hours. you could only handle so many more amped up bass drops. and you were both plastered enough. it was around four in the morning when you were tumbling out, giggling and laughing at who knows what. 

one of the valet club drivers even drove the both of you back to the hotel. neither of you are in the state to drive. 

in the car, one of your legs was atop his, slotted between his thighs. you could feel his pulsing cock and your mouth watered at the sensation. he was staring at you through dangerously dark eyes, reflecting back your own stare of desire. it was like looking in a mirror for the both of you. ravaging and desperate to have one another’s hands on each other’s bodies. 

lando took liberty and lowered his head to your exposed shoulder, pulling down a thin strap of your dress to your bicep. he kissed the skin tenderly, an action too intimate for your own good, but you were too fucking drunk to deny it. 

“fucking beautiful,” he muttered into your skin, quiet for only your ears to touch. you let your fingers trace up the side of his face lazily, feeling your gaze spinning beneath his tender words. 

“i’m proud of you,” you whispered, brushing a stray curl from his sticky forehead up into the rest of his hairs. “you know that, don’t you?” 

your voice had been tender. delicious to his drunken ears. though he knew he’d remember this sober– he had a feeling. how could he forget that tone of voice, your gentle touch, clearly breaking the bounds of what was too intimate.

he gulped, eyes flaring wide at your declaration. his hand found your thighs then, gripping the soft flesh with depth. 

your fingers traced down to his bottom lip, puckering the flesh, but dropped to the car seat with a laugh. you brushed off his shocked expression, leaning back into the cool leather. but his grip didn’t relent. he kept his eyes on you, too, unable to find something else to fixate on. you were the object of all of his desires. he confirmed it then when he was desperate to hear more of your unsolicited praises from your lips. 

he craved your lips. 

lando’s head dropped to your waist, his face nuzzling into your soft flesh. he kissed through the fabric of your dress, desperate to feel you beneath such a guarding sheath from your skin. you turned your head to look at him from where your gaze latched to the window, your hand rolling down the curve of his neck. 

you kept your hand there for the remainder of the drive, but didn’t look down at him. you knew you’d be face with those desperate, glistening green eyes of his. you’d fall weak beneath the light of his love, and you’d find yourself disappointed when he didn’t want what you did. a relationship, dare you think it just for one second. 

the valet driver dropped the two of you off and was able to manage a cab on his own back to the club. lando tipped him a hundred euros for his time, beginning to sober himself enough to walk in a straight line and speak without slurring his speech. 

you were the same. stretching your legs from the car, hands above your head in a dramatic feline stretch. lando’s eyes were on you the entire time, gaping at your figure. your ass. his lip caught between his teeth, and you caught him ogling. 

your hips began to sway beneath the music of his eyes. you’re unable to resist his humorous allure, crumbling the second the second the corner of his eyes uplifted. a smile followed, his gapped, perfect, teeth shimmering the reflections of the pale moonlight. 

he stretched out his arm for you to join him at his side. you sashayed there, twirling in your heels that ached your feet. but you did it for him. you’d do it all, though the alcohol was driving your thoughts. 

lando swooped you into his grasp, wrapping his arms around your waist and digging his fingertips into your hips. you laughed amicably, his presence both a comfort and a feat of pride. 

you mustered the strength to break his hold, trotting up the steps of the hotel. your heels were loud in the quiet, tender moments of the rising miami sun, and your giggles even more so. lando wasn’t far behind, skipping the steps to catch up with you. 

you’d never seen him hit an elevator button harder. you resisted the urge to laugh, knowing it was an impossible situation to be so loud at dawn. so you bit your fist in your mouth, choking down a sound that lando yearned to hear. 

when the elevator arrived he jumped right in, dragging you along– though it’s not like you hesitated– by your elbow. 

he immediately began trailing kisses down your throat, the column of your neck, your collarbones, shoulders. he left no place untouched by his devout, worshipping lips. he’d often say in the heat of the moment that you were the best thing he’s ever tasted– a man feral for your sweet nectar– but you just thought it to be the post-euphoria sex high. 

the british driver muttered something into your neck which had your eyes flaring wide, uncertain if you heard him correctly. 

you pushed his head back, gripping at the curls near the base of his neck. “what did you say?”

he looked flushed. embarrassed. he choked on his words, shaking his head. he was clearly brushing it off. 

“nothin’.”

he resumed devouring your neck, saliva dripping onto your dress, but his words bubbled. 

the ding of the elevator alerted both of you. he was the one to lead the way to his hotel room, swiftly opening the door with skilled ease, and had you against the wall in minutes. he gripped at the fabric of your dress, tempting to rip it. you hissed with contempt. “don’t,” he looked up at you with heavy eyes and a half toothed smirk, challenging you. “too expensive.” 

you felt him scoff against the skin of your chest. “‘too expensive.’” he mocked. 

but he heeded your words, gentle with how he lowered the straps to your forearms. your head lolled against the wall, eyes glistening with liquidated pleasure. there was nothing better in the world that could feel better than lando norris’ lips against your skin. each press was a blessing, a kiss of life, hungry for the divination you relented this evening. 

“so fucking beautiful,” he breathed when he shimmied you out of the dress, neatly undoing the zipper. you wore nothing under the dress besides panties, which had his eyes gawking at your taut, perked nipples. you shifted forward, desperate for his touch on your suddenly cold body. 

lando didn’t wait. his cock was already painfully hard in his pants, punishing the fabric for being so restrictive. he pulsated, precum already ruining the pair. 

his lips found your nipple, other palm fisting the firm flesh. you let out a sweet moan that was delicious to his starving ears, your hips bucking into his for a relenting yearn for release. he let out the deepest chuckle from his throat, finding such impending amusement for your desire. 

when he was contempt with the titillation of your nipples, he moved to the skin of your belly, biting softly at the skin. enough to leave bruises for his own eyes when he’d see you next. next. there was always a next with you. 

but you had other plans. 

your hands reached for his face, pulling him to meet your eyes. his own blew wide, flickering to your lips, to your eyes. 

“let me,” you whimpered, reaching for the buckle of his pants. he’d stop you, usually intending on getting you off with his lips or tongue before he could even cum. but tonight, he couldn’t resist your lips. you looked up at him with pure heaven written in your iris’. 

he swallowed before nodding his head rapidly, his forehead leaning into yours. “yeah, yeah, please.” 

lando norris wasn’t a man to beg. he didn’t have to do any of that shit for his other girls– they were always eager to please him, fuck him, suck him off– but for you…

your lips found his neck, feeling the thick muscles with your tongue. it was arousing how muscular each part of his body was, thundering with endurance. 

there was a soft mewl in his throat when you slid your hand down the front of his pants, beneath his briefs, over the length of his cock. the sound excited you tenfold– wishing that you could hear it a hundred times over again. it was addicting how he wanted you. 

when your finger grazed his tip, his hips bucked instinctively into you, just how yours had. he cursed under his breath, letting his head fall limp into the crevice of your neck. 

you laughed into his skin, finally falling to your knees to drop his pants and briefs. his cock sprung free, red and vibrating for your touch. your touch. you often wondered how his other girls treated him. if you were better, if you were the worst. obviously not the worst if he was the one to call you after his first win, right?

one hand stroked his length, traveling to his balls, simultaneously glancing up at him. he was staring down at you, riddled with urgency, a pleading look reflecting in your eyes. his bottom lip caught between his teeth when his hand found the back of your head, stroking the sides of your face. 

his thumb caressed your bottom lip. it caused your lips to open for him, and his thumb found your tongue. you swirled it around the pad of his finger, never breaking the shared look between you two. you let him go with a pop, and he found his hand at the base of your neck again, hand wrapping a makeshift ponytail with his hand. 

your lips swirled around the head of his cock, swallowing the precum that dampened his briefs. he held back a rumble in his throat which annoyed you, so you took him wide in your mouth, bottoming him out in the back of your throat. 

your cunt clenched around nothing when his whole body sang in praise of your lips. he faltered when you began a steady pace of back and forth, stimulating his balls with your other hand. curses fell from his lips, sinful words, and he gripped your hair tightly. with his other one, he fell forward against the wall, bracing for dear life.

but you didn’t relent. faster and faster you went, and you were awarded by his hips snapping into you, cock gagging your windpipe. you choked, tears forming in your eyes, but it was divine how satisfying it was. to see his eyes rolling back into his head, hands shaking, desperate to feel you up. from this position, below him, you could see the entire world. you had it all on the tip of your tongue. 

“fuck, baby…” he groaned. you felt so good around him. warm and tight. it felt like fucking home for him. somewhere he’d always come back to. and he would. no other girl could make him feel this way, had him about to cum in a matter of three minutes. your lips were made to take his cock, and he would yell that to hell and back for the entire world to know. 

he felt you moan against his cock, the sound echoing in your throat. he swallowed harshly, drool dripping down the side of his chin at the sight of you alone. you were perfect. 

and when your hand came to run over your nipples, kneading at the skin of your breasts, he felt his abdomen tighten. you found so much pleasure in sucking him off that you felt the need to touch yourself. fuck, he never thought he’d see something so hot in his entire life. 

he knew he’d been done for in a matter of seconds. with a firm grip of your hair, he pulled you back from his cock. you looked offended, disappointed when the drool from your lips trailed down your chin. 

“not yet,” he uttered, gripping the side of your face with his other hand. his cock was angry, furious at the lack of attention. he was practically fucking edging himself. “wanna cum inside you.” 

say less, you wished to say, but all that came out from your lips was a whine. 

and then you were laid out on your back on his bed. the white sheets were clean and made, cold beneath your scorching skin. 

lando traced two fingers up your thigh, the junction of your hips, your waist. you shivered, toes clenching at the sensation. then to your naval, your pussy, your dampened underwear. a ruined pair, no doubt. he smirked, lip curling. 

“all for me, huh?” 

you nodded instantly. 

his hand slapped against your flushed pussy. you whimpered, grasping at the sheets. 

“words, pretty girl.”

“yes!” you gasped when you felt him tug the underwear down your legs. “you, you, you, lando. all you.”

he practically purred. your folds were swollen and glistening, drenched from how his cock pounded into your mouth. “so wet,” he observed, twisting his fingers to trail up your slit, gathering the slick between his fingers. he raised the pair to his mouth, tasting your sweet juice on his tongue. your legs pulsed together, eager for friction, a quiet mewl leaving your throat at the sight. “tastes like heaven.”

“lando…” you were getting impatient now. rightfully so. he stood there with his hardened cock, teasing you with his firm fingers. 

“what’dya want, baby? hm?” he asked, knowing damn well what the answer would be. yet he’d trace his hands gently up the sides of your body, fingers dancing over your nipples. you writhed. 

“you.” you said endearingly. “fuck me, lan, please.” 

he was so impressed with your manners that he couldn’t resist slipping his cock inside of you. atop of you he caged you in, a blessed enclosure, lips pressing to your exposed chest. you whined at the initial stretch, always finding yourself so tight around his thick cock. 

“fuck, lando.” you hissed, teeth clenching at his immaculate girth. it was a pleasurable burn, and your arousal only had you clenching around him. he huffed through his nose, hot hair breathing over your skin. 

“i know, baby,” he reassured you with his bittersweet voice. “y’can take me, can’t you? always such a good girl for me.” 

you whined at his words, low moan bellowing in your throat. you squelched with your slick and he could feel it. he smirked, having the gall to chuckle, even. but you didn’t punish him for it, especially not when he began to move his hips back and forth, a pair of fingers coming to rub against the bundle of nerves placatated at your clit. 

the sensation of feeling him slip in and out of you was impeccable. you could find no other pleasure than his cock nestled inside of you, filling you to the absolute hilt of your dreams. the imprint of his dick had him riled with lust when it ran over your lower belly. 

“feel me here,” his hand came to grab yours, bringing it to the imprint of his cock inside of you. “don’t you?” 

you nodded, lip catching between your teeth and opposite hand threading through his curls as if you were a needle and thread. “so good, lando, please. keep going.” 

and he did. if you asked him to do anything right now, he would’ve. the slapping of skin echoed in the hotel room, filling silence with vulgar sounds from both of your lips. lando was a moaning mess at the pulses of your cunt, intent on sucking him dry from his cum. and he was an expert at navigating your clit, pinching and swirling the rough pads of his fingers. 

your eyes rolled in the back of his head when you bucked your hips for a better angle. “deeper,” you said, finding a grim satisfaction at the thought of him splitting you open. 

his eyes flashed to yours, bloodshot and red with lust, and shifted so your thighs were over his shoulders. your back arched for him and he was pleased to see your receptiveness. his hips didn’t falter, and neither did his hands. 

this angle had been more than what any gospel could provide. more than any destiny written out for you. fucking him was written in the stars, you knew it for certain, and you blossomed into a glistening constellation before him. for he was the entire universe for you, and you just a mere fractal in the midst of it all. 

but oh, how that wasn’t true. how you were the sun in which he orbited, woke up and thought of. you were the first person that he called after his father, needing your presence with him in miami. he needed this. your cunt. your pleasures, your moans. you, it was on the tip of his tongue, edging its way forward through the kisses he laid upon your neck. 

you were drenched in his saliva, coated in the thick musk of lando norris. he would never say it aloud but he dreamed of the day to see his cum dripping down your thighs, full of him, the remnants of your love affair sticky and haughty with each step that you’d take. 

it was a primal instinct that became so vicious. it overtook him, thwarting him into a dick-measuring contest whenever you went out with him. he’d keep you close. his, the message would be clear. no man would approach you when he had his hand on your lower back, your hips in his hands, your pelvis grinding against his own. you were his own keepsake. the light at the end of the tunnel. a brazen warrior that he’d follow into any battle. 

the only battle he was intending on winning was the war of your heart, blessed be his troops. 

it only took a few more harsh thrusts of his cock and twiddling of his fingers before you were painfully close to a release. he could feel it. he knew it like the back of his hand. your trembling legs, intense writhing against his hold, your breathy moans. he wished he could take a picture of you, flushed and desperate, and keep it in his wallet. 

“come on, baby.” he urged, feeling the own heat of his orgasm rising in his lower stomach. he had been resisting the urge to cum for your sake, always finding a deeper satisfaction in seeing your overstimulated face after the fact. 

“come for me, won’t you? pretty thing. i’ve got you,” the words of praise that were only meant for you. he didn’t call any of his other girls ‘baby’, but you wouldn’t know that. you couldn’t know. it would ruin all of this, wouldn’t it? wouldn’t it? 

i’ve got you, he said tenderly. it’s what had you compulsing, drenching his cock in your slick. your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the euphoria of what was lando norris’ pleasure. 

he was staring at your worn out face, his own tongue coming to swipe at his bottom lip. he was ready to feast on you. 

lando’s own orgasm was swift to follow. the rhythm of his hips faltered, sloppily, aggressively. the overstimulation against the walls of your cunt was delectable. 

“come for me,” you begged him. it had his eyes flaring once more, shocked to hear such a request from your pretty lips. “inside me, lan, need it…” 

“fuck…” he groaned, and with one last snap of his hips he was spilling out inside of you. his forehead fell into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. your chests moved in unison, catching your breaths after such an intense fuck. 

you were sticky against him. his body fell atop of yours, and your hands wrapped around his back. one hand came to run up and down his neck again, which had his eyes fluttering with sleep. but he didn’t let himself, and instead moved to get a towel for you both.

he slipped outside of you, the warmth of your cunt had his expression falling. he saw your face, too, empty once he made his way to the on suite. he grabbed a handheld towel and ran it under the warm water, and crossed the space between the bathroom and the bed. 

lando let it run up your thighs, between your legs. your cunt was swollen still, his cum thick and dripping from your slit. he smirked to himself, cleaning the remnants of himself from the immediate vicinity, but wouldn’t go further. 

you were aware. entirely too aware of how warm you felt. how filled you were. it was filthy how good sex with him was. you could never orgasm with any man but him. 

lando fell to the bed beside you, opening the sheet for you to slip in beside him. you hesitated, never having spent an entire night with him, except for a few drunk evenings. did this count? you weren’t sure. you’d certainly remember that mind blowing orgasm. 

but his eyes were drooping with sleep, weary when you hesitated. you couldn’t resist, and slid in beside him, comforted by the furnace of his body. 

lando’s head found home, once more, in the side of your neck. you brushed the hairs from his sweating forehead, roamed through his scalp. you ran circles through his hair until you heard the soft snores coming from him. it only took a few seconds for him to fall asleep in your arms and for once, you were perfectly content with that. if this was what your life would be, then so be it. 

the british driver woke approximately twenty four hours later. 

when he woke, you were not there. 

he was startled as he searched for you, but there was no sign of you. he sat up in his bed, sun peeking in through the curtains. he rubbed his eyes, hand resting on the spot that you had laid in. there was an imprint from your body. 

when he checked his phone, he knew he was in deep shit. 

“fuck.” it really had been a full day that he slept through.

but there were no texts from you. 

his gut tightened, heart beating loudly in his throat. why are there no texts from you? 

he scanned the room to find a glass of water on the nightstand, previously iced from the ring of water around the side of it. and there was a note, too, with some ibuprofen. he picked it up. 

had a good night

proud of you always

text me when you’re up x

and it was signed by you. 

he folded the piece of paper.

he supposed it was a good night. the best sex he’s ever had, in fact, and wouldn’t forget his own confession in the elevator. he wasn’t sure if you heard it or not, but there was a part of him that wanted you to. 

“you were always my favorite,” he spoke into the column of your neck. 

the next time you saw lando was in monaco. 

you were back home and invited by alexandra to the paddocks for the home race of charles. you accepted, of course, hoping to catch a glimpse of lando. 

you hadn’t texted him much, but neither had he. you heard first from him on that tuesday morning and it had you smiling at the airport, bags in hand. you texted back, and it was sporadic from there on out. it’s been a few days since either of you’ve said a word, and it was beginning to wane on you. 

alexandra repeated your name. 

“yeah?” you responded, head snapping towards her direction. 

“i asked if you were feeling alright.” 

“oh.” you breathed, laughing it off. “of course, do i not seem okay?” alexandra shook her head, petting leo’s little head in her hands. 

“you’ve been quiet, that’s all.” 

and you had been. but since she noticed, you were determined to make her forget about it. 

“nervous for charles,” you lied. but alexandra bought it and agreed with you, shedding her anxieties for her boyfriend’s home race. 

you were standing on the balcony with her in ferrari’s hospitality. you looked elegant today, matching alexandra’s own vibe. your hands were clasped together as you were leaning down, watching the drivers go in and out for their free practice. 

alexandra was still ranting about how nervous she was for charles when you saw him.

the papaya was noticeable from anywhere. 

lando

lando and company. 

a girl trailing behind him. her hair was done neatly, blonde, painfully thin. you grimaced against your will, face scrunching with a bitterness you had never felt before. 

alexandra tapped your elbow before she looked down at what you were staring at. 

“asshole.” she remarked, scoffing. 

you raised a brow. “you think so?”

alexandra nodded as if it was obvious. “don’t know why he brings them around,” she sighed. “not when he could have you.” 

you never felt so flattered before. you blushed, thanking her for saying something so kind. though you denied having feelings for him. she knew it was a lie this time. 

lando glanced up at the balcony, finding your eyes inevitably. he could feel your stare at the back of his head. 

and he fucking waved. 

the girl beside him looked up, too, but she did not. 

you could see lando’s smile from up here, but in your intensive bitterness, you did not wave back. you stood and turned to go back into ferrari’s hospitality, not thinking twice about your decision. 

the rest of the weekend you spent in bitter earnest. you’ve never seen yourself in such a state. but you plastered on a smile for alexandra and charles, entirely too elated when he crossed the finish line first in monaco. you held her as she weeped with joy. 

and, of course, you were invited to the festivities for the evening. your attitude was soured by the girl latched to lando’s arm throughout the entire weekend. but he looked so nonchalant with her, careless. none of it mattered. you’d put on your best dress for the evening. 

in the club you were found nursing a martini in your hand, not quaint on the taste, but were keen on getting wasted. you didn’t want to deal with whatever shit storm of emotions were brewing inside of your head. seeing lando with another girl was not new for you to witness. it was the norm, in fact, and you never thought about it otherwise.

but something changed that night of his win in miami. you knew it. he knew it. the words he uttered into your neck in that elevator was sending you up the wall and skyrocketing into the abyss of the universe. and you believe that somehow, he would find you.

he would find you. 

lando saw you instantly when you entered with alexandra and charles. rebecca and carlos paired together, too, leaving you the odd one out with no arm candy on display. good, the thought was impulsive. 

the girl beside him was giggling at something he said. but it wasn’t meant as a joke. he was convinced that she just had no idea what he was talking about, and was eager for a good fuck from him. he knew his skills of pleasure were not in comparison to any low life dude, but no girl could fulfill the void of receptiveness. of yearning desire. 

so when he tilted his head back to down the rest of his drink, he grimaced at the taste, and turned back to the girl he brought with him. but he kept stealing glances at you in your short dress. it was like you were punishing him– were you? he suddenly felt like a dog, a bad boy, reared and chained to the dog house outside your house of a heart. 

but you didn’t see him. not for a while, actually. you were intent on staying true to your morals– staying away from him this evening. he only brought trouble for you. confusion. you were sick of this back and forth, and most importantly, this rotten feeling of jealousy. it wasn’t a good look on you, or so you thought. 

“dance with me?” alexandra asked you. you accepted, of course, grabbing her hand and holding it high above the crowds as she led you to the dance floor. you were both twirling and laughing with your drinks in hand, purely electric with the rap music. charles joined her, gripping her from behind. you couldn’t help but watch, gulping down the feeling of envy. 

alexandra noticed. she knew what you were going through, even if you wouldn’t say it aloud. your ‘relationship’ with lando has gone on for far too long without any real commitment. everyone knew he was your favorite girl to be around, except you. you were the only one, apparently, who didn’t know that lando looked at you like a goddess reincarnate. 

and when you shook off your thoughts of envy, your eyes found another pair staring back at you.

sharp emeralds, piercing through the musk of the club.

your breath hitched, catching solemnly in your throat. 

the blonde was grinding up against him, throwing her head back against his shoulders. one hand was on her hip, the other with an empty shot glass in his hand. the girl was enjoying herself, at least, and you wondered if he fucked her the same as he did you. 

his eyes didn’t leave yours as his hips swayed in motion with hers. his hair was disheveled, a coat of sweat gleaning on his forehead. 

the pair of you were waiting to see who would break first. who would succumb to the challenge. you wanted so desperately to win, to grab another random man and kiss on his neck, but you were detested. 

the air inside the club felt heavy, and the world would collapse on you. the weight was too much on your shoulders as you became lightheaded. 

“i need air,” you said to alexandra before you fled from the dance floor, leaving your glass on the counter. 

the air of monaco was brisk when it pierced your skin, your thighs, your shoulders. but it was a much needed refreshment from the confines of that fucking club. you felt nauseous, sickened by lando’s eye contact with you. how dare he. 

you looked around before turning the corner of the club, seeing a pair of men smoking a cigarette. 

“care to share?” 

the men glanced at one another and the one holding the pack nodded. he handed you one and you placed it to your lips. he held out the lighter, too, and lit it for you. 

you weren’t one to smoke. it was a drunk cigarette kind of night. 

they insisted on you staying with them, talking each other up to be some pair of scrouges who deserved your attention. you politely declined their advances and walked the other way, feeling colder when the tobacco hit your lungs. 

when you blew out your first puff, it wasn’t long before the cigarette was ripped from your lips. 

“hey–” 

“this shit isn’t good for you.” 

lando.

he found you out here. rather, he chased you out. the minute he saw you turn your back he scrambled, pushing past every person that came in his way.

you scoffed, unable to look at him as you crossed your arms. 

“you don’t know what’s good for me.”

he paused, sucking in a tight breath. his jaw clenched. the cigarette was thrown to the ground, crushed beneath his foot. 

“rude–” you uttered, cut off when he grabbed your elbow. that had you looking at him. and his expression didn’t disappoint.

his eyes were widened, pupils blown wide as he looked into your own. his lip trembled momentarily, jaw entirely too tight for his own good. 

“what’s going on with you?” he wondered, holding eye contact with you. 

“nothing.” you answered instantly, brushing him off. but he didn’t accept that. 

“‘nothing,’” he mocked. “you’re not a very good liar.” 

you hummed. “thanks.” 

the conversation widdled down, but he wasn’t about to give up. 

“tell me,” he requested, his face pulling closer to yours. you had to give it to him. he was determined. but you were too.

“there’s nothing to tell.” you bit back. 

“i care about you. come on–” your name fell sweetly from his lips. he was prepared to grovel at any second now. 

but you cut him off. “ohhh…! yeah, right, you care? pfft, no need to pretend, lando.” 

he pulled back, shocked that you got in his face. your words were cruel, but he felt the double meaning behind them. 

“what?” he asked, softly. you knew then that he was hurt. 

but jealousy was a monster.

“i wish i was as stupid as you think i am.” you rambled, hands thrown up with emotion. but you were done with this conversation. “fuck it, i’m leaving–”

but he used his other hand to ground you before him. “don’t.” he pleaded. eyes watering. 

“what? like you’d notice?” 

then the bells chimed in his head. an alert that he understood what this was. he was stupid in not knowing what was happening before him. 

you’re jealous. 

“didn’t take you for a jealous type.”

you scoffed. “you’re ridiculous.”

but he shook his head and tsked. “can’t believe it, baby, that you hid it for so long.” 

“fuck you.”

he blew out a huff of air as if he were wounded, hand coming to run over his chest. it was a fatal one, that was for sure. you tried again to push past him, but to no avail nor universe would he let you go. 

“come home with me.”

his words were determined, sincere, though there was a layer of softness to it. like unsweetened honey that poured from his lips. 

you stared at him. “what?” 

he laughed. “you heard me. let me take you home.”

you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. couldn’t tell if he was mocking you. your facial expression dropped from its intense anger. 

“don’t…” you started, feeling the heat of emotions that you’ve been burying come to the surface. your eyes swelled with tears but fuck, you promised you’d never cry over him. “don’t be mean, lando.”

his smile dropped. he knew then that you weren’t playing around, messing with him in the ways you usually had. what was this feeling inside of him? guilt? he wanted nothing more than to fix whatever he’s done. the instinct blazed a fire through his veins, igniting a deep rooted reaction that he feared only you could bring out of him. 

his hand came to cup your cheek. you flinched backward, staring at the palm of his hand through your wet lashes, but allowed his touch. 

“come here…” his hand dropped from your cheek to hold out for you to melt into. an invitation for a hug. 

you hesitated, shifting closer on your tip toes. when you were in close enough reach, he grabbed you, earning a yelp. 

his body was warm. he pulled you flush against his chest, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. his hands were wrapped firmly around your torso. was he shaking? 

he was. lando was wrought with a surplus of emotion when he saw your anger diffuse. he loved to feel all of your emotions, it reminded him that you cared about him. but when he saw it disappear, faze into an abyss of melancholy, his heart set into overdrive. he never got such a rush of adrenaline before. not from racing. not from anything else in his life.

you relaxed into him, shutting your eyes. there was a wet stain from the single tears that fell from your face on his shirt. 

but you didn’t care. he smelled so good. it was lando. your lando. 

“let me take you home.”

your nose buried into his shirt. his stubble dug into your neck. 

“your place,” you muttered. “i want to go to yours.” 

his place was always for special occasions. but to your unbeknownst knowledge, you were the only girl he’s ever taken there. the only woman he’s fucked in his bed. 

he stuttered. “yeah,” he cleared his throat. “yeah, of course we can.”

you didn’t even end up texting alexandra goodbye. you were too wrung tight with your jealousy, coined poignantly by lando himself. he was quick to catch on to your attitude shift, but you could tell he was frightened. at least you wished for it to be. 

but he was. his heart plummeted when your anger reached him. it did more than touch him, it ripped him apart, had his heart bleeding in plain sight. anyone could see it except you. it was never you who saw the love beneath his eyes. 

lando’s apartment was just how you remembered it to be. 

open space, loosely decorated. it was rather bland. 

“you kept it!” you ran your fingers over the displayed teddy bear, one that you had won for him at a fair. 

he shut the door behind you two, locking it. he let out a soft hum. “‘course i did.” 

he said it like it was obvious. he would never get rid of anything that you’d give him. you squeezed the teddy bear in your palms, but dropped it when you felt lando’s arms wrap around your waist from behind. 

his lips found your neck in an instant. 

“i missed you.” 

you tensed. back arching, you turned your head to look at him, angled perpendicular to his face burrowed into the junction of your neck and collarbones. 

“really, now?” 

he chuckled against your skin, fanning his warm breath through your body. the hairs on the back of your neck rose instinctively, choosing to hold your breath instead of express anger. though you couldn’t help the huff through your nose. 

“you’re so vicious when you’re jealous, darling.” he thought this was funny. it angered you even more, attempting to writhe out of his hold. but he didn’t relent, keeping you taught against his chest. asshole. 

“am not.” 

he tsked. 

“sure.” he continued his trail of kisses down your neck. you fell into him, head lolling back and eyes rolling. fuck, his lips were always so good. he was so good to you. 

“am not.” you said again, biting back a moan when his hands came to your forefront, parting your legs for his hands to rest between your thighs. 

“whatever you say.” 

your hips grinded against his own in retaliation which had him humming in soft praises. his fingers trailed the lining of your panties, other hand holding your hip firmly . 

“because i’m not–” the moan that was pulled from your throat was pure divinity to lando’s ears. his fingers had run up your slit, teasing your entrance. blood ran down to your body, fueling your cunt to a puffy state. your weight went lax against his hold, which he was perfectly capable of supporting you. 

“not what?” he dared you to continue, not when he had you numb in his hold already. he was clearly cocky. you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“i’m not–” you were determined. but lando was coming back in full force. his middle finger teased you, pushing between your slick, finding the warmth of your walls. you sucked in a tight breath, feeling just how wet you’ve become. 

“so wet, baby,” he said into your ear. “what were you saying?” 

“fuck–” you sighed, whining. “i’m not jeal–” 

and then he seized the bundle of nerves around your clit, curling his middle finger inside of you. you cursed, sweat beginning to bead around your forehead. 

“mhm.” lando proved himself right when you couldn’t mutter out a sentence, becoming dumb on his fingers alone. he began a steady pace with just a singular digit, flexing in and out of you supported by your natural lubrication.  

“more–” you pleaded. it had him standing up straight, reacting to your soft pleas like he was a dog to a treat. pavlov, and all that shit. he found himself staring down at the sight of your two– his finger etching in and out of you, drenched in your sweet nectar. if he was no better than a dog, why was he about to drool? 

“yeah? you can take another?” you were rapidly nodding against the back of his shoulder, biting your lip.

“yes, please. please, lando.” you mewled, gripping at his forearms that caged you in. you never wanted to be chained down, but for pleasure like this, you felt as though you could make an exception. 

he obeyed. adding a second finger was close enough to your release, and you knew that was barreling forward at any minute. if he kept this assault of your clit up and the delicious curl of his fingers, you would melt into a puddle. 

and you knew he would. if lando started something, he would finish it. the only priority for him was to make sure you reached an orgasm. that was a promise, forever and always. 

he found himself bucking his hips into you, the sight of you weak in his arms becoming too much for him to handle. the friction between his pants and your hot cunt was too irresistible. what can he say? you were just pure bottled heaven. 

his thumb had been applying more intense pressure to your clit. your face was entirely flushed now, brightened from his attention. he was entirely to carnal to hear the noises you made. noises for him to hear, no one else. 

but his pace was slow. teasing. you felt like this was a punishment. your lip curled, face contorting with both pleasure and angst. “please, please.” you whimpered. 

“what, baby? what do you want?” smug. always so smug. 

you gripped his hand that was flexing inside of you, tightening your grip. he chuckled deeply. 

“wanna come? that what you want?” 

your head bobbed up and down, breaths coming in fast pants. “need.” you corrected him, and he thought that he would fall dead at your feet. his jaw clenched, muscles in his arms flexing, and he would give you want you needed. 

you needed him. 

that was all that he needed to hear from you. 

you turned your head to look up at him with your bloodshot eyes, dreary with lust. lust for him. your lashes fluttered against your brow line, lip quivering with a singular wish. 

he wanted nothing more to kiss you. 

“fuck.” he groaned, your thighs were drenched in your slick, a sight he thought could never be hotter. and when he curled his two fingers sweetly, your hips bucked aggressively. he knew exactly how to navigate your body, but it was always so thrilling to see you react in such a way. 

“yeah?” he smirked, “that good?” 

“so good, lan,” the nickname you used for him was not intentional. it had his dick throbbing in his pants. fuck.

your words of praise would only have him working harder. he didn’t even need to add a third finger when your stomach snapped with tension, coming loose all over his fingers. your vision blurred, legs shaking rapidly. you cried out, head lolled against his shoulder. he held you tightly, and you didn’t miss how he stroked your hip with his thumb. a soothing action. 

how he could ever find this kind of pleasure in another woman, he didn’t know. but the challenge begged– could he ever admit that? 

his fingers remained buried in your cunt whilst you rode yourself free from your high. it was impossible to look anywhere else but you. 

and when he removed them, showing you the mess you made, his popped them into his mouth. it was such a vulgar statement, but you found yourself blushing. he sucked on his fingers, letting them out with a pop, clean as a whistle. 

“heavenly.” he reaffirmed. “no girl compares.” 

you froze, still delirious from your orgasm, but it had you spinning in his hold. he was slightly blurred in your vision, but you could make out his faintly cocky expression. 

“really, huh?” 

your attitude would have him rising, cocky attitude falling away instantly. 

he gulped. “guess so.” was this it? 

a smile grew on your face. your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, grooming through the back of his head. he smiled lazily, lip catching between his top teeth. 

but things like this didn’t last forever, did they?

there was a pounding knock at the door. it had you frightened, shifting your panties back into their rightful place. your fingers fixed your appearance the best you could, whilst lando adjusted his dick in his pants. 

“open the fucking door, lando!” 

it was a woman’s voice. 

your brow raised. 

“i know you’re in there with that bitch,” the woman seethed. you could feel her anger through the door– but you could feel your own flying through the roof. bitch? you didn’t fucking think so. 

you pushed past lando who was about to open the door and he called your name, attempting to stop you. 

the door flew open. “bitch?”

the blonde girl stood there. she clearly didn’t expect you to open the door. but she didn’t back down; fine. 

“yeah. bitch.” you straighten your posture. “he told me not to worry about you–” what? “and here you are, fucking him.” 

not quite, you wanted to correct her. 

“fuck off,” he said the girl’s name. “me and you aren’t a couple.” but she rolled her eyes anyway. 

“you promised me a good fuck, lando,” she had such a venom to her bite. it had you bristle. “i didn’t think you’d stoop so low.” 

“hey, now, don’t be–” lando started, but you were done. you had enough of this night. you turned back into his apartment and grabbed your handbag, your phone, and threw on your heels. you didn’t hesitate brushing past the pair. 

lando called your name. 

but you only turned your head over your shoulder. your gaze read an entire sentence that he felt up his entire body. 

two can play this game. 

[currently-becoming-potatoes]

List of words for the computer:

LONG POST- more under the cut

STANFORD- Pulls up a file on Stanford Pines, written by an unknown scientist. It discusses his extra finger and praises his intelligence, as well as calling him the “next evolution in the human species”.

BILL CIPHER- Takes you to the Wikipedia page for the Eye of Providence. Also took me to a Sesame Street video about a Jazzy Triangle and a Square. Not sure what prompted the change.

STANLEY PINES: Takes you to a list of EBay listings for brass knuckles.

FIDDLEFORD: Takes you to the music video for Cotton Eye Joe by Rednex.

SHERMIE: Nothing. I sure do wish we got some lore about Grandpa Pines.

GRAVITY FALLS: The text on the computer reads “never heard of it” and the red light on the bottom turns green.

ALEX HIRSCH: Leads to Google Images for “flannel”. Huh.

WEIRDMAGEDDON: Pulls up an article from the Gravity Falls Gossiper about how nothing happened at all and there was no apocalypse.

DISNEY: Screen reads “rat.gif censored for your protection”

SOOS: Leads to a page of writing from Soos himself, referencing many things (including Tad Strange being gay and madly in love with Woodpecker Guy. Love wins!!!)

DIPPER: Leads to a creepy yellow parchment with a message from Bill Cipher himself trying to trick Dipper into blinding himself by staring at the sun for 13 hours straight! Silly! (Also if you keep clicking on it, the page gets darker and blurrier until it implies we've gone blind)

MABEL: Causes stickers to appear on every available surface. Clicking it enough times leads to message “lab now fully Mabelized”.

WENDY: Leads to a note from Wendy that mentions a way to ward off evil triangles written in the bottom corner of the book.

GIDEON: Makes a web recording of Gideon scatting play. It ends with “I love you forever Mabel”. Please shut the fuck up you little creep.

TAD STRANGE: Plays a video of bread with smooth jazz in the background.

TOBY DETERMINED: Leads to a Google search for a restraining order. Holyyyyy shittttttt

WHO ARE YOU: “I could ask you the same question”

SEASON 3: “Season Two”. I guess that’s that lol

This was about all I could find. Please reblog with anything else you can discover! Thank you, fellow Gravity Falls enjoyers!

And make sure to give some love to all the wonderful folks down in the comments! Many of these answers and tips come from what they've found. I can't list everyone, unfortunately- I didn't expect this post to get popular- but, to everyone who's helped out, THANK YOU.

FURTHER EDITS:

BLIND EYE: Pulls up an optometrist’s eye exam. Each line reads “WKHBOOVHH”. Too lazy to translate atm.

PIÑATA: Bill Cipher getting beaten to death /hj

MASON: A note from Dipper listing several anagrams of Gravity Falls characters’ names. You can check in the comments for the answers.

AXOLOTL: “You ask alotl questions”. Thanks for the pun, Alex, but I’m kind of losing my mind rn

MYSTERY SHACK: Leads to a Google search for Confusion Hill, the real-life Mystery Shack!

MYSTERY: “?”

MONSTER: Leads to several YouTube videos for “There’s a Monster at the End of this Book.”

VALLIS CINERIS: Leads to an analog-horror-esque video of Baby Bill and his parents, who have been blotted out by static, and a voice repeating “WHY DID YOU DO IT” over and over again until you stop the video.

PORTAL: “Portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build a new one.”

GIFFANY: You need to put it in multiple times. Several warnings about breaching firewall, followed by a message from GIFFANY saying “SOOS! I still love you!” or smth like that, and then GIFFANY herself briefly appearing onscreen. Trying again after that summons her more. Also lets you download some ZIP files.

DORITO: Summons an image of a spinning Dorito, followed by the most cursed image of Bill Cipher I have ever seen.

GOD: A short video of an axolotl in a tank with a Bill Cipher statue plays. This is Alex’s axolotl, shown in the Book of Bill countdown.

REALITY: “Is an illusion”

FILBRICK: “I’m not impressed”

CARYN: “I knew you were gonna write that”

GLASS SHARD BEACH: Leads to an image of the New Jersey Hell Hole.

ANY CUSS WORD: Pulls up a paper reading “NOT S&P APPROVED. WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP” with an image of soap below.

MATPAT: Leads to a video of MatPat next to a conspiracy board, holding the Book of Bill. He tells us we’re on our own.

BABBA: Plays an audio recording of Dipper singing BABBA. Not Disco Girl, a different song.

CRAZ: Leads to the Jem and the Holograms theme.

XYLER: See above.

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA: Shows us two new journal pages from Ford and Mabel, studying the Cipher statue. They’re definitely worth the read, I teared up looking at them.

ANSWER: “Question”

QUESTION: “Answer”

SEASON ONE: “Season -1: Antigravity Falls”

SEASON TWO: “Season 1” …maybe scratch what I said about Season 3. Or don’t. Things are starting to damage my brain.

CURSED (got from @slimslamflimflam decoding the candle! Thanks!): Shows two pages talking about the dangers of drawing triangles, with the bottom of the second page showing several drawings of Bill and the words “HE IS COMING, RUN”

THE UNIVERSE: “Hologram”

RIZZ: “Life privileges revoked. Now releasing poison gas.” This response is repeated if you type in SKIBIDI or FORTNITE.

BABY: Shows an ultrasound of a fetus Bill Cipher, captioned “Look at what’s growing inside you! See you in nine months, papa!”

JOURNAL 3: “The Journal for Me”

PACIFICA: Leads to a note from Pacifica calling Bill Cipher “ick” and telling us to follow her on social media under “Platinum Paz”

PLATINUM PAZ: Pulls up an image of Northwest Manor with the llama symbol overlaid and a “NW” logo beneath. There's also a short story beneath!

LOVE: Leads to an audiobook of “The Love Triangle”. Need to read later.

BLENDIN: “The time agent lost and presumed incompetent”. Uh…?

SCARY: Leads to another audiobook of a cheesy Goosebumps-esque horror novel written by Bill himself, apparently.

DIVORCE: Shows you the logo of the bar Bill went to after his fight with Ford… Billford bitter exes confirmed

ROBBIE: Leads to the cringiest messages ever. He’s such a failure I love him

CONSPIRACY: Leads to a video of a man losing his mind over the countdown counting up. I feel so seen. (I have been informed that his name is Charlie Day, he's an actor from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and that one meme, he had a quote on the back of the Book of Bill, thanks to everyone who explained that to me, I'm sorry, I'm uncultured)

RAT: “Thurburt’s number?”

BLANCHIN: Leads to a YouTube video on how to blanch vegetables.

TJ ECKLEBURG: “Never mention that name again.”

NOTHING: “Something”

SOMETHING: “Nothing”

BURNSIDE: “Burned inside.” Well… at least we know what happened…

WADDLES: Leads to the pig placement network!

THERAPRISM: Pulls up a sign from the theraprism regarding an emergency situation. The code reads "THE OLD ONE".

SHAPE: Pulls up an article on Plato, triangles, and Ancient Greece. This article is presumably written by Bill.

LLIB and BILL: THIS leads to the Sesame Street video every time.

WEIRD: Shows a video of a frightened Weird Al panicking about being trapped in a computer. Sorry, man...

CLONE: Pulls up an image of Paper Jam Dipper, a warning about not getting him too close to liquids, and an option to print.

TRIANGLE: ")" or "Tri harder."

THEYLLSEE: "Is seeing believing?"

DEER TEETH: "For you, kid!"

LIFE: "Life: 72% complete. Now loading: death."

DEATH: "Life's goth cousin."

PINES: "A good family tree."

OWL TROWEL: A slab of hieroglyphs, translating to an ancient ad for an owl trowel.

SCALENE: "Life form not found." EUCLID has the same outcome.

WELL WELL WELL BEING: Some assorted notes from Bill's Theraprism file. These include his greatest love and fear, his art therapy notes, and notes on his phobias. Three clicks is required to read them all.

BOO BERRY: Offers a poem on the meaning of life! Wow! I feel so enlightened!

LOVE YA BRO: Shows us a doodle from Stan of one of his and Ford's Sea Grunks adventures, and another code on the back. It translates to "Kings of New Jersey." I've been told it lets you download the code as a font.

SORRY: Reveals the repaired Backupsmore photo, with a note from Fiddleford about his and Ford's growing friendship. Fiddauthor fans, we are eating well tonight!

HORROR: Pulls up an image and report on The Always Garden, which is essentially a cheap Italian restaurant hidden in the backrooms.

HOLOGRAM: "Universe."

NAITSUAF: Pulls up a page that looks like it would be from the Book of Bill, in which Bill tries to convince us to sell us his soul. Clicking "ARE YOU READY?" pulls up a contract where we can sell our soul to Bill (with an alarming amount of coded fine print. Will need to translate later). You can print this document out, back out, or sign it right there on the web. Hitting "SIGN" causes the words "PLEASURE DOING BUSINESS WITH YOU!" to appear, and the document to close. In other words, I no longer have a soul.

IMSTILLONYOURMIND: Plays a recording of the ocean, with Stan faintly talking in the background. Poor Ford ain't quite over the divorce yet...

HOTXOLOTL: Pulls up a "MOST WANTED" doc on the henchmaniacs.

SEVENEYES: Pulls up a faded polaroid of The Oracle with text on the back that reads "LEAVE HIM. Escape to dimension *blurred out*. It's against the rules but it's the only reality where you'll be safe from him." The code at the bottom (once again decoded by the powerhouse that is @slimslamflimflam) reads "Set a course for Dimension: R34LITY." Is another Cipher Hunt in the makes? Only time will tell, hehehe.

JUST FIT IN: Plays an old commercial with a few moments of speech in the glitches at the end.

EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES: Shows a transcript from a therapy session at the Theraprism. Bill discusses his relationship with Ford and cuts off the session when someone brings up his parents.

NOT A PHASE: Shows a Google search for "black hair dye stained an entire bathroom."

PAPER IS BOOK SKIN: Instantly downloads a page of fleshy pink paper with the word "ENJOY" written on it!

SHAVE YOUR GRANDMA: Pulls up a few more pages about the human life cycle.

LIES: Pulls up an image of "The Game of Lies" board game, with a long stretch of text from (I assume) Bill, ending with "LIE UNTIL YOU ARE NOT LYING ANYMORE." Someone has some issues...

SAY BAAAA: Pulls up a neat little rhyme about being Bill Cipher's obedient flock of sheep. The code at the end translates to "Black Sheep."

ONE EYED KING: Plays a video of a hypnotist's spiral, with Bill proclaiming "YOU WANT TO PLEDGE YOUR SOUL TO BILL CIPHER" in the background. There is also morse code that translates to "NAITSUAF", leading to a previous discovery- the soul contract.

TANTRUM: Pulls up a transcript of a spat between Bill and Time Baby.

TITANS BLOOD: "HOOT HOOT! Password please!"

CURSE WITTEBANE: Pulls up an image of a Bill Cipher ouija board.

FORDTRAMARINE: Pulls up several rejected files from Ford trying to convince us Fordtramarine exists.

SUCK IT MERLIN: Pulls up a tapestry of Bill riding a unicorn. The code at the top reads "DAY MARE VS NIGHTMARE."

HEY NERD: Plays a commercial advertising things such as a Bill Cipher calendar, the Scrubba-Bill, a severed hand, and the entire Cygnus-XIII galaxy. Half of the image can be found in the Book of Bill.

DESTRUCTION IS THE FORM OF CREATION: Pulls up a frantic page of notes from post-portal-shit Fiddleford. A sticky note at the bottom has a code that reads "Unreality."

RUBBERHOSE: Plays "The World is Small Ever After for All."

IRREGULAR: Shows us Bill's mugshot in color. The code below reads "No prison or attention span can hold him."

UNREALITY: Offers a guide by Bill on how to become immortal.

GUN: "Oh yes oh yes oh yes they both."

ABUELITA: Leads to a video on vacuuming the walls.

YES: "What's McGucket's favorite soda?"

NO: "Your loss..."

REPEATEDLY CLICKING STAN: This stuff deserves a section of its own, away from the OG Stan stuff. It takes you through several Ebay listings on various Stan-ish items until you get to a page written by Bill about Stan's secret shames. "Ex-wives" further confirms our theory on Stan and Eda's relationship, as well as revealing many other bits of lore. "Fears" is somewhat goofy to be honest. "Secret Shames" reveals that Stan is a fanfiction writer and that his mother is the only member of his family who truly loves him outside of Ford and the kids. "Unreported Crimes" is somewhat goofy as well. "Failed Products" basically confirms that Stan is that world's Alex. "Lowest Moments" is genuinely depressing, and "Darkest Thought". Well. I'm not spoiling it lol. And the bit on "How He Beat Me" causes Bill to get more and more frantic/angry the more you click it! Comedy GOLD!

DIPPY FRESH: Leads to a Reddit post of the Burger King Kids Club.

MEOW: Leads to a TikTok of a man playing the Gravity Falls theme on that cap keyboard.

HELP ME: Pulls up another video of Alex's axolotl and the tiny statue. Rip Bill ig :/

R34LITY: Pulls up several photos of the henchmaniacs in live-action, captioned "They found a new home."

JOURNAL 1: "The journal of fun."

JOURNAL 2: "The journal for you."

FBI: "Your webcam is on. We are watching."

BURNED INSIDE: Shows an image of a charred Oregon Parks badge and nametag on the ground.

HECTORING: Plays a silly little country song!

OROBOROUS: Pulls up two journal pages about Fiddleford buying Ford an axolotl to keep him company, and Bill subsequently telling Ford to get rid of him. There's also some code on the first page that reads "CHONKY BOY." Ford, you wonderful dork.