#smaug smut

[lovelymindescape]

My Request Guidelines

Masterlist |

My Request Rules:

New Rule: Please send in a plot line with your requests!! I love having tropes to go off of but there’s only so many scenarios I can make for the same characters off of similar tropes

I will turn down requests i’m not comfortable with or that I don't want to write

I also am a slow writer so please have a little patience with me , I also am a human , therefore I won't always have inspiring thoughts or time to write as I am currently studying , I also have hobbies and social relationships that I need to maintain , so please be a little patient

I will write plantonic and romantic relationships

I will write the following: genderbent characters, queer relationships, monster/mythical au’s, polyamorous relationships, plus size characters , conservatively different universe , legal age gap and somethings more if the idea is good , just ask

I have no issue with trying my hand at transgender and non-binary characters but there’s really only so much I can do as a cisgendered woman; of course, if I offend anyone or mis-concept the matter at hand, let me know and I’ll try my best to fix it with your help.

That being said, I’ll mostly take requests for fem!reader to avoid completely mischaracterising and, therefore, taking the magic out of self-inserting.

I’m posting on Tumblr to gain confidence and push myself out of my comfort zone in the hopes of publishing my own original book series sometime in the future — just for background info!

Only x reader including Poly ( Characters have to be from the same fandom)

WHAT I WRITE : -Fluff,angst, smut & Preferences

WHAT I WRITE :- Oneshots , Drabbles , Headcanons , Match -up's and maybe a fic

If you don’t specify the readers gender I’ll pick whatever I think suits best

Please don’t be vague,more details are better than less

And last but not least :

Have fun requesting 💕

[thedragonsmaug]

I don’t even know what to say about this…

[justjbeboriginalo]

Don't Die This Time

Kili Fanfic

Kili meets a girl who has to go along on their quest on Gandalf's request. The girl captures his attention from the first time they meet and they grow to love each other over the course of the quest.

Pairing: Kili x OC female who can control nature

Chapter 5: Pain Part 1

Warnings: Death (Orcs)

Gaia stumbles around, unable to stay upright. A heavy fog pushes down on her and she struggles to breathe. As she falls to her knees, her hands shoot out to the ground. She searches for something to hold onto. A disgruntled voice booms through her ears and her head snaps up. A familiar figure floats to her, surrounded by a darkness that follows it.

Sauron.

Gaia jerks awake which causes her to slip down the rock she was seated on. She rubs her face and lets out a groan. She hates being in the Mirkwoods. The sickness that lies upon this forest is similar to one she is already familiar with.

The Necromancer at Dol Guldur might be more than what she is prepared for at the moment.

“I already told you- “

“Shut up, I already told you that we need to go around. The road will be there. Not here,” Ori shouts at Dwalin, “you daft dwarf.”

“Don’t you dare- “

Gaia pushes her hands to her ears, cutting off the foul comments of the fighting dwarves. They have been at each other’s throats since they lost the road.

She told them that she could locate the road, but none of them listened to her. They have been shouting and cursing at each other for who knows how long.

Her eyes search for Thorin in the fighting crowd, but he is not part of the crowd. He is standing a few steps away from them, staring at nothing in the distance. Why has he not put a stop to this fighting?

Sauron.

Gaia shakes her head, trying to rid the memories from her thoughts. Why, of all places, does she have to remember her past in this forsaken place?

She turns her attention to the dwarves and catches Bilbo trying to break up the fight, but he fails to succeed.

An elbow shoots out which hits Bilbo’s head and he falls to the ground. The dwarves continue their fighting, sending trampling feet in Bilbo’s direction.

She shoots up and hurries to stop them from squashing Bilbo.

“Oi, stop it,” she shouts, making her way hurriedly to Bilbo. They ignore her and this causes her blood to boil.

“Stop it,” she shouts again. This time, her words are accompanied by a strong wind which sends the dwarves flying in different directions.

She crouches next to Bilbo, inspecting whether he got hurt in the process. Bilbo gestures that he is fine and she stands up.

The dwarves are spread out on the forest floor, groaning and grunting.

Gaia grabs a loose vine from a nearby tree and rushes to the closest dwarf, Dwalin. She wraps the vine around his middle while she helps him up.

“What was that for?” Bifur asks, trying to stand up. Gaia kicks his legs from under him when she passes him, making her way to Balin.

“This forest has you lot fighting. This is exactly what Gandalf warned us about, but do you listen? Do you ever listen?” Gaia asks, more of a rhetorical question.

She wraps the vine around Dori, Nori, and Ori before stopping next to Bifur.

“We- “

“No, shut up. I do not care about your silly excuses. Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves,” she mutters as she wraps Bofur and Bombur. “You have lost a lot of time in this cursed forest. I will not stand by and watch you fail this quest because you act like children.” She wraps the vine around Dwalin and Balin.

“Gaia is right,” Thorin interjects, “We have been wasting our time here. You all know we only have one chance.”

Gaia stops from wrapping the vine around Fili and Kili, bowing her head to Thorin to show her support.

“So, get in line,” Thorin orders the remaining dwarves. They all scramble to get in line behind Fili and Kili.

“You know how to get back on the road, right?” Kili asks in a whisper. Gaia nods, finishing wrapping him. “Do you need any support?”

“No, but thank you. Just keep them under control,” she whispers with a wink to Kili. He flashes a smile and bows his head.

After Gaia has finished wrapping the vine around the remaining company, she guides Thorin to the front where she also wraps the vine around him. She lets the vine wrap around her arm before she thickens the vine.

There is no way they will be able to escape from these restraints.

Gaia removes her shoes and throws them into her bag before relishing the feeling of life beneath her feet. She closes her eyes at the vibrations of the forest.

With a determined huff, she feels for the different vibrations. The trail has a different feel to it than the soil and grass they were stuck on.

She easily finds the trail they lost and leads the dwarves on the trail.

After a while, the dwarves start to converse and some even break out into song. She glances over her shoulder at the company and notices Kili singing along with the rest.

A smile ghosts over her features.

She turns her head to the front and listens to them as they sing and joke around. The sickness of the forest does not seem to have an effect on these dwarves anymore.

The river comes into Gaia’s view and she hurries to the river, wanting to escape the darkness of the forest.

She leads the company out of the Mirkwood and stops them next to the roaring river. The vine slips from her arm, letting go of the rest of the company. The company starts to celebrate and Gaia laughs softly at their antics.

Dwarves.

“Thank you.” Thorin’s voice is deep next to her. Gaia turns to him and inclines her head at him.

“We got out,” Kili shouts as he runs over to them. He throws his arms around Gaia, pulling her in for a hug. She lets out a laugh into the embrace.

He slowly lets go of her, his hands coming to a rest on her arms.

“Thank you. For getting us out,” he says with a small smile. His hands squeeze her arms and she smiles warmly at Kili.

“You are welcome.” Kili lets her arms go before he turns around, rushing to tackle Fili to the ground. Gaia laughs at them.

A familiar vibration catches her attention. How did THEY make it through Mirkwood? With the help of none other than the one who placed the sickness on that forest.

“Orcs!” she shouts while she runs to the company, trying to get their attention. “Run!”

Balin is the first to start running with Fili short on his heels.

Kili spins around while his eyes search for Gaia.

“Kili, run,” she shouts, gesturing for him to go.

As Kili starts to turn to run, an arrow flies past Gaia. It pierces the flesh of Kili’s thigh. He stumbles a bit before he falls to the ground, groaning when the pain registers.

Gaia crouches down next to him and quickly throws her arm around him to support him. She helps him up and they make their way to the rest of the company.

“You will be fine,” Gaia mutters repeatedly, dragging Kili with her.

Kili’s leg gives out from underneath him and he hits the ground with a thud. Fili runs back to them to assist Gaia in getting Kili back up, but Kili’s leg is a bad condition.

Gaia looks around and her eyes fall on the running water next to them. She has never managed to control water, but that is their only escape.

She lets out a shaky breath when she reaches the water, her hand stretched out to the water.

As soon as her hand touches the water, a large ice block forms.

She gasps, unable to believe that she had done that. She turned water to ice?

“Get on,” she shouts to the rest of the company, jumping on the block.

Fili throws Kili on the ice and she prevents him from sliding off. Fili follows along with the rest of the company.

The block of ice is large enough for the whole company if they squeeze against each other. Gaia helps to keep them from slipping off the ice by forming something that resembles a border around the edges of the ice block.

The stream of the river is strong and it moves the block with ease.

The Orcs are quite a way behind the company, but they continue to shoot arrows at the ice.

Gaia deflects the course of the arrows as it is made of wood.

A few Orcs managed to catch up and they are jumping from the riverbed to get onto the ice block. Between Thorin, Fili, Dwalin, and Balin, their lifeless bodies fall into the treacherous water.

Gaia glances at Kili and the dread settles in. They need to get some shelter, away from the Orcs. Hopefully, she can heal him.

Hopefully.

“We are making progress,” Oin says, wiping his forehead. Gaia hums, keeping her eyes on the water. They need to get to land.

After they made their way through the worst parts of the river, the water became calmer. As the water slows, the ice block starts to melt.

Gaia tries her best to keep the ice from melting until they get to the bedrock, but it would seem fate is not on her side anymore.

“Swim, get to the shore,” Thorin calls while he sinks into the water. Gaia jumps from the block to help Fili with Kili, struggling to get to the bedrock.

The company gets to the shore which is accompanied by groans and some rushed arguments.

Kili takes a few steps, but he sinks to the ground with a groan.

Gaia rushes over to him, her hand on his shoulder.

She sees him trying to cover his wound, but she recognizes the blackness that is evident in his wound. A Morgul shaft.

“We have to keep moving,” Thorin coughs out. Bofur has joined Gaia and Kili, the worry evident in his features.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Kili says, but neither Gaia nor Bofur believes him.

”On your feet,” Thorin commands Kili, but Gaia prevents Kili from standing up. He frowns at her, but she shakes her head at him.

“Kili’s wounded,” Bofur starts, “His leg needs binding.” Fili comes rushing to aid, helping his brother onto his feet.

Gaia feels the tears stinging her eyes, but she blinks them away. Why does she always jump to the worst conclusions?

Thorin starts about the Orcs. Gaia hears Bilbo contributing his opinion with Balin and Dwalin also talking, but she focuses on Kili.

His leg is only going to get worse. They need to stop. The more time they spend not extracting the poison, the more time it has to spread throughout his whole body.

She has seen what the poison can do and she does not want Kili to suffer such a fate. She has grown quite accustomed to him and she would not let him die like that.

He needs to rest.

“Bind his leg, quickly. You have two minutes,” Thorin interrupts the current conversation, looking at Kili and Bofur. Fili helps his brother back to the ground.

They watch as Bofur and Oin start to bind Kili’s leg. He lets out a few pained groans, his body writhing on the cold rock.

“Kili,” Gaia calls softly. He turns his head to her, trying to smile at her. She reaches her hand to his cheek. Her thumb moves in circles on his cheek, soothing him. “You’ll be all right.”

Gaia hears Ori dumping the water from his boots into the river. She supposes she should do the same. Her head turns to Kili.

“I am going to try to get the water from my clothes and shoes. I will be back to help you,” she says with a weak smile, standing up.

Gaia follows Fili and they sit next to the river, dumping the water from their boots and squeezing the water from their clothes.

“He will be fine, won’t he?” Fili asks with a quiet voice. Gaia snaps her head to Fili, hiding her concern.

“Yes,” she says, but she realizes that she did not sound convincing. “He just needs to rest.” Fili gives a quick nod, his eyes fixated on his boots.

An unfamiliar presence catches Gaia’s attention and she turns her head to the stranger.

Everyone readies themselves for a fight, but the man is quick to warn them with his bow. He might be an even better archer than Kili.

“Do that again and you’re dead,” the man warns.

Gaia relaxes slightly. This man could perhaps be of assistance to them.

Fili has made his way to Kili in the meantime, defending his brother from the stranger.

Balin is the first to approach the man, recognizing the barge from Lake Town.

Gaia smiles to herself as she steadily walks back to Kili. She hands him his boots and some of his clothes which she dried.

“Here,” she whispers while Balin is still busy talking with the man from Lake Town. She wraps a light red and green plant around Kili’s leg, just above his bandaged wound.

“I know that one. An Airuxux,” Kili says hoarsely. Gaia smiles brightly at him and nods.

“Look at you. You even remembered the name,” she jokes. “We just call it “the sucker”,’ she says with a wink. Kili’s brows furrow.

“Why do you call it that?” Gaia ensures that the plant is tucked away from Kili’s eyes so that he cannot see the plant drawing the poison from his blood.

“No idea,” she lies. Kili chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“It is a strange name.” She hums in agreement when she notices the rest of the company following the stranger.

Fili helps Kili up and supports him with Gaia walking behind them.

Kili rests against the rocks as the man and Balin continue to converse.

Gaia catches that he has children and that his wife has died. She looks at the man with the dark hair while he loads the barrels onto his barge. Something about him seems familiar. She cannot place it.

A soft groan escapes Kili’s lips and she turns her attention to him. Fili also focuses his attention on Kili, but Kili tries to tell them that he is okay.

Kili looks at Gaia and sees her tired eyes, mixed with something else he cannot place. He had thought she could not control water, but she just turned water into ice. He cannot hide his amusement at her skills. Who is she? How did she come to be?

His leg sends a burning pain throughout his whole body and he bites back a groan. He does not want to worry Gaia or Fili. He will survive. He has survived worse.

When his eyes catch the glossed-over ones of Gaia, his heart pains. He does not like to see her like this. She deserves to be always happy, smiling.

His hand moves to hers and he takes her hand in his. He squeezes her hand, to tell her that he will survive. Her grip tightens on his hand.

Gaia focuses on Balin who has offered to pay the man double for smuggling them into Lake Town. She does not have anything of value on her. Perhaps, if she searches through the pockets of the clothes on her, she can find something.

But how is the man going to smuggle them all into Lake Town?

[lemonconfessions]

I read your entire Enslaved by Kings and Dragons story and I have to tell you this - you are one of the best writers I have ever come across. Hands down. like WOW. W.O.W. I am defiantly going to read Valkyrie, but are you going to do the second ending to Enslaved? I can't wait for more! I also seriously might have to draw scenes from Enslaved . . .

Sorry for taking so long to get to my inbox, I have so many messages and I don't know how old anything is [sobs in being absent]

The endings to EBAK are here:

ENDING ONE - WHAT THE HEART WANTS

ENDING TWO - YOUR HEART IS MINE <-- this one is the most requested one, I think.

The full list of EBAK Chapters can be found here:

<3 Lemon

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

OC or to not OC?

Ok, so I'm working on a multi-part fic for Thorin Oakenshield and I've been going back and forth with whether it should be an original character or just a reader insert (but not using y/n because it just doesn't flow as well IMO) It doesn't change the story much at all it's really just a matter of what pov it's written in and whether or not her name is mentioned. What do you think?

[amourcheol]

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. 

[songmingisthighs]

Missing Out

group : ateez

pairing : dilf!mingi × reader

genre : smut

wc : 4.1 k

tw : mdni, explicit smut; daddy kink, teasing, dirty talk, age gap (mingi's like mayhaps at least a decade older, but both are still within legal limits), thigh riding, spitting, alcohol consumption (not to the point of being drunk, it's just for vibes and... spitting lmao),

a/n : frfr i hope he doesn't see this fic because God i would not be able to defend myself. tbh i planned on posting this on mingi's bitthday but i got shit happening to me. shit without my consent and I'm just trying to ride the stress like gandalf hopped up on cocaine riding smaug. so ykw i decided to post this on my birthday instead lmao. special thanks to @kitten4sannie for listening to me drop some ideas while i was on a road trip, i did some adjustments but it's still sexually frustrated dilf!mingi this fic is finally out so i hope you and everyone enjoy it <3

a/n/n : i take no responsibilities for any calf cramp that may or may not happen but alyssa, i still blame you for the great leg cramp at ass o'clock

a/n/n/n : my birthday sucks because it felt more like public service than anything but i got ticket to go to singapore again so i'll be reunited with my little brother and little sisters soon✌️ i'm raising money for my mental wellbeing which is so totally code for i'm trying to find a way to make my shituation better by making myself just the slightest bit happier after today's shenanadoodles

buy me coffee ?

After the day Mingi had, the cold drink in his hand felt like the reward he deserved. It was only then that Mingi realized why people always say that the Family Court is rough. Still, of course, it was extra rough for him because his ex-wife, the horned creature incarnate (a goat, not the devil), had dragged his name through the mud just to get the maximum alimony because she was a narcissistic bum with no life skill to fall back to as if Mingi was the one who told her to quit her job as a dental hygienist when they first got married.

During the mediation meetings and court proceedings, she took all of the potshots she could While no one took her seriously, it still pained Mingi because the more she and her lawyer attacked him, calling out all of his insecurities and questioning his character, the more obvious it was that Mingi had wasted 9 years of his life on this loser and he missed out on all of the marital milestones. The main sore spot was having kids. She argued that putting her body through pregnancy was out of the question because there were risks that could cause her body to look weird in the future and it's inhumane how a woman's body had to contort in such a way to accommodate another living being. But when her breast implant popped when she slammed the car door too hard, it was 'a normal occurrence'.

As much as his friend Yunho told him not to, Mingi couldn't help but wallow in the time he absolutely WASTED on the bitch only to be screwed over. The only good thing that came out of the divorce was the fact that he got out of it without having to pay alimony because his ex-wife had become too cocky with her cards. But still, Mingi had to give her the car, the savings account (that wasn't much compared to anything considering she had drained it to accommodate her filler addiction and alcohol dependency), and Tony Son, their personal trainer, the one thing Mingi could credit her because she had been the one who introduced him to the man who was able to sculpt his body to perfection.

"Is this seat taken?"

Mingi snapped his head to the side to see a woman younger than he, dressed in a tight-bodiced red sparkly dress that showed just enough cleavage for it to be classy rather than trashy and the A-line satin skirt stopped just three fingers width atop her knees. Slowly, Mingi nodded and gestured to the seat on his right side wordlessly. It wasn't until the woman flagged down the bartender and ordered her drink did Mingi questioned why she sat next to him when there were other seats in the bar.

"So, are you alone?" she asked, striking up a conversation with Mingi which honestly caught him by surprise because he had been told that he had a resting bitch face that doubled in intensity when he wasn't in the mood and he was doubling in his bad mood. "Yeah... I am, so..." his words allude to him wanting to be alone, but there was something about the person next to him that intrigued him so much so that his eyes seemed to be glued to her. Just the sight of her drinking her vodka cranberry made Mingi's eyes travel from her face down to her lap, watching the way she moved so gracefully. "So... You don't mind my asking why a man as handsome as you are would be sitting alone with a scowl on his face," she pointed out, forcing Mingi to consciously unfurrow his eyebrows and fake taking a sip of his drink, "I'm not scowling, I'm just tired and pissed off for wasting 9 years on a selfish bitch that deprived me of anything I want in life," he spat venomously, even the slight mention of his ex sent a really unpleasant taste in his mouth. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?" She pouted, inching closer to Mingi as somewhat of a signal. Noticing this, Mingi scoffed and shook his head but he still entertained the woman, "Got a time machine to help me undo the past 9 years?" "No, but maybe I can give you what your ex couldn't."

You couldn't help but bite your bottom lip when the look of shock on Mingi's face melted into intrigue. You had been watching him for an hour, sitting all alone, nursing his one drink as he toyed with his ring before chucking it into his breast pocket. Thank God he did because you were not about to approach a potentially spoken-for man. It took you a while to get substantial evidence of his status and it wasn't just because you were distracted by his plump ass in those slacks and the matching suit jacket and slightly unbuttoned black dress shirt didn't help your case.

"Little girl, I think I'm a bit too... Far for your reach," Mingi pointed out, raising an eyebrow at you as he wasn't sure that you knew what you were offering him. Mirroring him, you raised your eyebrow and shifted so that you faced him fully as you raised one leg and cross it over the other, successfully inviting Mingi to get a glimpse of more skin. "You don't know me or what I can do, sir," you smirked challengingly, now openly inviting him to poke you further.

You were delighted when you saw Mingi's jaw clench and throat bob after you called him sir. It was proof to you that Mingi had some sort of inclination of being in control and his little confession about not getting what he wanted from his ex-wife might be a glimpse of the kind of fun you could get from him. So without hesitation, you decided that you were going home with him.

Surprisingly, Mingi responded positively by leaning in to cup your chin and pull you close, just a wispy breath away from having your lips meet and you so desperately wanted to taste his because they just looked so damn juicy and plump. "You don't want to know all the things I've been deprived of... Baby." Your eyes darken and your legs crossed tighter to suppress the sudden arousal washing over your core, excited at the confirmation that Mingi was playing into your games just as you had wanted. All you needed to do was lock this down. So you let your hand lay on his thigh, squeezing it suggestively and enjoying the feeling of his muscle tensing underneath you each time your hand slid closer to his crotch to the point that your nail was scratching the inner side of his thigh just right. Despite being physically affected by you, Mingi still maintained eye-contact, daring you to poke his button just right.

"Yes, I do... Daddy."

In the blink of an eye, Mingi smashed his lips on you and all of the oxygen was knocked out of your lungs in one go. His lips were soft but the way he used them was rough yet calculated. You could taste the smoky whiskey on his tongue as he slipped it inside your mouth. Little did you know, he too, was enjoying the way you tasted. Your lip gloss had a sweetness to it that made him wonder if you're the type to plan things or if it was just a happy coincidence. He also took note of how you allowed him to lead you and the more he asserted himself onto you with every nibble of his lip and every caress of his tongue, showing that you're more on the submissive side and he likes it. A lot. The more you felt pleasure, the more you pleasured him back as evidenced by your hand rubbing against his raging boner.

Mingi smirked at the way you whimpered when he finally pulled away from you to slap a couple bills on the counter before he got off the stool, pulling you along with him. You wobbled slightly but Mingi immediately pulled you flush on his chest and despite having just made out with him, you found the gesture very hot. "Wanna go see if you can keep up with the list of things I missed out on?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mingi must be some kind of a business owner because no way he would have had a rather impressive office where you found yourself in. Well, on top of him on his couch, grinding your panty-less core against his thigh with your top down, allowing the older man to ogle at your tits as you tried to make yourself cum.

"Is that the best you can do?" Mingi taunted, circling his crystal glass which produced a tinkling sound from the ice in the drink he poured as soon as you reached his home. "Daddy, I want you to touch me," you whined but your hip was still relentlessly moving after making a big deal of how his thighs were so strong and you wanted to sit on them like a throne. So instead of just sitting, Mingi told you to make yourself useful and prep your pussy without his help and he wanted you to do it by riding his thigh. His thick, glorious thigh. "Don't you want to touch me, daddy?" you teased, cupping your boobs and tweaking your own nipples whilst throwing your head back, making a show out of it just to get Mingi to touch you. Sure, Mingi was intrigued, but he knew damn well that he was holding the reigns and he had to hold himself back from jumping at the opportunity to completely ravish you too soon. "I do, baby, but you're being a brat right now and refusing to listen to me. Had I wanted that, I would've stayed with my ex-wife." Your head snapped back up at the mention of his ex-wife and you glared at his smug smirking face, "You have me half naked on your lap and you still mentioned your ex-wife?" you gathered your skirt in your hand, exposing your cunt to Mingi's eyes and slowed your pace to a prolonged drag that left long, dark stain courtesy of your arousal.

Finding your petulance adorable, Mingi chuckled and pulled you in for a searing kiss with one hand cupping your chin and the other slapping you on the ass as if telling you to speed up your movement. "You're an adorable little doll and I'm gonna break you," he muttered against your lips before you could reply to him, Mingi tugged your hair back as he casually took a sip from his drink. The action made you yelp and Mingi swiftly leaned over and spit the drink into your mouth and clamped your jaw shut. "Swallow," he commanded and as you came down from being surprised, you stared into Mingi's eyes. At first, you only stared at him, feigning defiance just for fun and Mingi found that both intriguing and annoying. His grip moved to tightly grasp your jaw and he growled, "Swallow. It." He demanded in a stern voice that made your panties more damp as your cunt clench, leaving you unable to do anything more than whine and swallow the burning liquid. Mingi found you very mesmerizing even on an act as simple as you taking heed of his words. The stray spit and alcohol that trickled from the corners of your lips enhanced the glimmer of your smudged lipstick and lipgloss combo, turning Mingi on with how effortlessly sultry you looked. He was down and he was down bad. He wasn't even sure if he was down because Once the liquid was no longer there, you rolled out your tongue to proudly show your obedience and Mingi let out a shuddered breath seeing you just blindly following his orders like the good puppet you are.

"Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me."

In a flash, Mingi flipped you both around so that you were trapped underneath him with your head strategically on the armrest. The elevation allowed you to watch as Mingi dragged a hand down your body as if you were a work of art. "All this time... I was missing a lot all this time, that bitch took nine years out of me and gave me nothing," Mingi shuddered both in anger and in arousal. The contrasting thoughts between being so angry at his former partner and the excitement of being rewarded by being able to ravish you felt like waves crashing inside him. It was thrilling. It was exciting. It got his adrenaline pumping and God, he felt alive. "Poor baby," you purred all the while slowly popping the buttons of his dress shirt off to reveal the soft skin underneath, "You're so frustrated, It's a good thing I'm here now huh?"

You swung your leg up and used the tip of your toe to tilt Mingi's chin upwards maintaining a somewhat neutral expression but the twinkle in your eyes indicated clear intrigue. "Tell me all the things you want to do. What do you want most?" the question made Mingi roll his eyes back and he grabbed your leg by your ankle. "You nasty slut, you want to have an older cock so bad you're enticing me with empty promises, huh?" He mumbled against the skin of your leg, trailing his lips down from the heel and lower to your calf as his body followed down until he eventually stopped at the mid-section of your inner thigh. You helped him by flipping your skirt up, exposing your cunt wholly to him and slotting the leg you lifted on his shoulder, "Empty promises? I want to give you whatever you want daddy, and in order for me to be able to do that, I need to know what it is."

Thinking that he had nothing to lose anyway, Mingi smirked and decided to test you. "I want a baby," he stated, "I want to put my baby in you," he said oh so casually as if he hadn't had his fingers poking and prodding your cunt like they just belonged there. Truthfully speaking, Mingi was expecting you to push him off and ran away screaming because what kind of a hookup just casually dropped a bomb as big as he did?

But it seemed like Mingi's luck was turning around for the better because you replied by reaching forward to free his cock from his pants, trying as best as you could to suppress the surprise at Mingi's size (but failing as evidenced by the way your eyes bulged slightly and your tongue peeking out to lick your bottom lip in hunger) before you leaned back and opened your legs widely as an invitation for him. "Then do it, fuck me so hard and dumb and deep that I'd have no other choice but to have your baby," you smiled up at him. Mingi could only stare at you in shock initially, not really knowing what you meant until you whined and pulled him closer using the leg that was hooked on his shoulder. "Daddy, don't make me wait too long. Come on, put a baby in me!" you pleaded, cunt throbbing with eagerness to feel Mingi's cock stretching you now that you already caught a glimpse.

The shock melted away from Mingi's face and even as he was guiding his cock to your core, he was still carefully watching your face, not wanting to waste any twitch or shift in your face from feeling him but also he was trying to be careful in case you showed him any indication of regret or if you changed your mind. But the way you whined and rolled your hips so your wet cunt could meet his cock more gave him the green light.

"You dirty slut," Mingi grunted before he shoved his length inside you in one fluid movement. The accumulating arousal from you riding his thigh provided proper lubrication but his sheer size was not something you're used to so your body tensed up at the impact. "F-fuck, daddy, y-you-" "Am I tearing you apart, baby? Are you being split into two on daddy's fat cock?" he asked in faux worry that was just him being condescending towards you. But you don't care, you found it hot even when he talked down to you as if you were nothing but his plaything. "Yes, yes, daddy, I'm being split open on your cock but I love it! I love it so much!" you moaned, hands clawing at his skin, causing red streaks to appear from the pressure of your nails, "Fuck, I want more!"

With that, Mingi pushed your legs up by your thighs, exposing more of your lower half to him. "Be daddy's good girl and hold these open, I wanna see your pussy taking my cock raw," he hissed, eyes zeroing on the way your puffy lips split open to accommodate his size. Carefully, as if assessing a great piece of art, Mingi watched attentively The view almost brought tears to his eyes but he channeled the somewhat endearing moment into fucking you stupid into the mattress.

Each drag of Mingi's cock felt like fire against your inner walls. Although there was a slight discomfort with each movement, the added pleasure of being filled like you had never before made you addicted.

If you thought you were enjoying yourself, Mingi was very close to combusting and he was trying his best to not cum too soon as he didn't wanna be branded as the geezer who came too early. But he couldn't help it, not with the way both his ego and his cock were stroked. It was as if you were made for him and he felt that the moment he entered your sopping cunt. So Mingi shifted his focus to you instead, working to get you to cum first.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. I need you to cum first so you'd be ripe and open for me to fill you up," Mingi huffed, pressing his pointy nose against the junction of your neck that sent tingles down your spine, "We need to do our best to make sure that you'd be good and pregnant, right?" The weight of his words caused your head to spin as the thought of him filling you full for his own pleasure filled your mind. "Yes, yes daddy, make me cum please," you whined into his ears, your body reacting almost automatically by rolling your hips against his own to match his speed and desire. Mingi growled hungrily and his pace quickened significantly as the impact got harder. You were sure that after this your ass would be different shades of red and blue but you couldn't care less. Especially if Mingi wanted to do more rounds with you, you'd gladly wear the bruises like a badge of honor.

"Fuck, you're so hot like this, you're so hot when you're willing and submissive for me," Mingi grunted, even verging on whining into your ears because you just felt so good to him but he held firm, "Are you close, baby? Are you cumming soon?" Lucky for him, you nodded hurriedly, confirming that you were close. Your brain had been marinating in the dizzying arousal that it was embarrassingly quick for you to nearly reach your climax in a rather short time. However, your response was deemed lacking to Mingi who wanted to hear a verbal response from you. Mingi was quick to slap you hard on your left tit as a punishment, feeling the need to chastise you for simplifying your response.

The words died on Mingi's tongue and his hips sharply halted to a stop when he saw you yelp and shudder before coming completely undone underneath him, writhing pathetically as your nails grazed his skin, leaving red streaks for Mingi to show off for days on end. His eyes darken when he saw tears pooled in your own eyes before dropping, creating the illusion of your eyes sparkling which served a rather complex combination of innocence and sinful. "M-M- Daddy," you whimpered in almost a hushed tone, barely comprehensible but to Mingi the sound was thunderous in Mingi's ears, ringing, because his baby girl needed him. His baby girl wanted him. His baby girl who's willing to give him anything he could ask for was longing for him. So who is he to deny you?

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state seemed to unlock something primal in Mingi because while you were reeling down from your orgasm, Mingi was instead put into some sort of a trance. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, slightly hoping that he could taste your sweetness in the air, and his hips restarted with a pace so hard and quick, for a moment you forgot that Mingi was a human.

The pleasure from your orgasm tripled with the additional friction continuously given by Mingi whose head was flooded with the thought of truly possibly getting you pregnant from this first time. Not that he was planning on only fucking you once, not after he felt how good you made him feel both emotionally and physically. He was planning to pamper you to death and maybe that was the sexually frustrated side in him but he didn't care, he didn't care how crazy he was because you were the one who made him crazy.

The sound of hips snapping together in a rhythm accompanied by your drunk-like moans sounded like a symphony in Mingi's ears. "F-fuck baby, I'm gonna fill you up now," Mingi grunted, his eyes closing and his forehead dropping to your shoulder, "I'm gonna fill you up with my seed to the brim and you're gonna be a good girl and keep it all in so my baby can grow safely inside of you, okay?" He whispered so intimately against your shoulder that both your lips and cunt wept. You wouldn't be surprised if there was a pool underneath you after you were done and you won't hesitate to ask for more. "Cum, daddy. Cum inside me. Fill me up so hard and full like you promised me!" You whined, your hands snaking around his shoulders to hold tight as the overstimulation caused a tingling pain that made your toes curl while Mingi was getting such a high from his ego being fed.

"Fuck, baby girl, this is it, I'm gonna put my baby in you!" Mingi grunted and thrusted, once, twice, thrice, before his hips stuttered and you felt a gush of warmth spilling deep inside your cunt. The physical feeling of being filled up made your eyes roll into your head and the realization of what just happened made you blush as if you weren't whoring for his cock not 10 minutes ago.

As Mingi slowly came down from his high, his mind cleared up and he was able to pepper kisses from your shoulders, up your neck, along your jawline, and then gently all over your face. The contrast of the sweetness of the older man and the nasty act you both just did made you suddenly turn all giggly and shy. "Aww, come on, are you trying to get away from me?" Mingi smirked, trying to chase another kiss from your lips but you kept dodging him, "That's pretty absurd considering I still have my cock inside of you, plugging you full." Your eyes widened at the vulgarity of his chosen words and you couldn't help but smack him on the shoulder but fail to hold back a giggle, "Don't say it like that!" "Like what? Like the way it is?" Mingi teased, pushing himself up to trail a finger on your stomach which made your breath hitch and your muscle to tense, "I need to make sure you really do get pregnant so you can give me my baby just like I wanted," his voice trailed as his fingers drew patterns on your skin almost lovingly and the nonsensical side of you wanted to believe that he was showing his affection to you. You figured that there was only one way to find out.

Without missing a beat, you took his finger that was tracing your skin into your mouth and start licking around as if it was a lollipop, effectively causing Mingi's attention to shift to your face and his cock to twitch inside you. "Who said we're only gonna try this once, daddy? You're gonna fuck me as much as you like until I'm good and pregnant."

The smirk that bloomed on Mingi's face was devilish and almost menacing, showing his genuine intention to get wamhat he wanted.

"I hope you'd never ask. I'm gonna fuck you all night long and you're gonna be a good girl and take it all with no complaint."

As if you'd say no.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @itasluv @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread

[dekariosclan]

Hi!

I saw you had thoughts and recommendations for Dad Gale, which I LOVED.

I wondered if you had any thoughts and recs for... Er.. smutty Gale?

Asking for a friend.

( it's me, I am the friend )

Oh. Oh, sweet Anon! This is the equivalent of asking Smaug if he has a few shiny baubles that he might like to show off? 🙃

Here’s a fun fact about me: I have more BBC miniseries dvds than my local library. I have an entire bookcase dedicated to romance books. I am a romance addict. So, I hope you believe me when I tell you that the Gale smut I have collected is better written AND infinitely hotter than any of the published romance books I paid actual money for. I am not exaggerating. The writing talent in this community is absurd. Y’all are brilliant.

Anon, my friend, come and feast on the magnificent hoard I have collected!

18+ under the cut. (note: that’s both the age requirement AND the number of fic recommendations you are about to receive…)

Purple indicates Female Tav

Red indicates Male Tav

Green indicates Gender Neutral/no gender description

———

@senualothbrok has written so many incredible fics I don’t even know where to start, but in an attempt to keep this list at a manageable size I will only name three:

Gale and Tav use their Words to a very satisfying end

A Tight Fit gives Gale and Tav the chance to get to know one another intimately (whether they wanted to or not)

It’s a lazy morning in bed until Gale gets a little Carried Away (but Tav’s not complaining)

———

@sorceresssundries is a poetry master AND a master of regency-inspired Gale fics. The dashing Mister Dekarios would like to inquire as to whether or not you own a bodice? Because it’s about to get torn off:

Tav gets most deliciously Ruined by Mister Dekarios

A Heatwave gets Gale and Tav all hot n’ bothered

…and Tav gets very very wet in Downpour

———

@orangekittyenergy writes fire smut during the rare moments she is not busy creating absolutely stunning artwork:

Gale getting woken up with a bj

A lovely little ‘ficlet/smutlet’ featuring blindfolded Gale

Gale and Tav finally get to share Indulgent Desires after the orb is stabilized

———

@tumbleweed-run has an outstanding collection of Gale smut, including the incredible Sing Your Praises about a Tav with a praise kink, and Desserts, where Tav is…well…Gale’s dessert.

@lady-sapphyre’s Elerra helps God Gale remember all the mortal pleasures he sacrificed (and helps him come to his senses) in Divine Follies.

@wild-magic-oops wrote the lovely, lovely Worship in Moonlight where Gale gets a well-deserved bj on Mystra’s shrine.

@darlingdekarios proves Tav giving Gale a perfect day—followed by Gale giving Tav a perfect night—is the best thing.

@tociminna wrote about Gale having to…attend to some mortal needs in Pent.

Eternal_Starr on A03 wrote You are beautiful, like I’ve never seen, featuring Gale getting absolutely cherished.

@faerybella219 wrote a 5.3k word feast about Professor Gale coming home from a conference and receiving a very warm welcome. (featuring switch!Gale)

A03 author Arabellandry describes what happens when Gale calls Tav’s name at a rather inopportune moment—or perhaps the perfect moment? In peach, plum, earth, sun.

Vulkinreads on A03 wrote With thanks, Gale which explains in some detail how Gale and Tav stay warm on a cold winter’s night.

———

If anyone has any additional recommendations that I can add to my pile hoard collection please do add them in the comments! 🥰💜

[thethirdromana]

A few ways to title fanfic:

The Something of Someone, e.g. The Romancing of Bilbo Baggins

A well-known saying, e.g. Here Be Dragons

Part of a well-known saying that implies the other half, e.g. You Are Crunchy and Taste Good With Ketchup

Song lyrics, famous, e.g. Your Sex Is On Fire

Song lyrics, obscure, e.g. Like A Bouncing Cigarette

In the style of pop-art, e.g. Fire!

Poetry, apt, e.g. Feel My Flames Augmented Manifold

Poetry, ironic, e.g. Sugar's Sweet and So Are You

Outside perspective, e.g. What Are You Doing With That Dragon, Mr Bilbo?

A description of the fic, e.g. Smut With Smaug

A plainer description of the fic, e.g. Bilbo Fucks a Dragon

Just whatever you titled the word document, e.g. Dragonfucker

Something evocative yet ultimately reassuring to the reader, which might have been better in the tags but does kind of work as a title, e.g. Thankfully Bilbo's Supply of Burn Cream Was Not Needed In the End

[thedragonsmaug]

New fic time!

Crash landing on an alien planet usually isn’t a good thing. But this time it just might be…

[justjbeboriginalo]

Don't Die This Time

Kili Fanfic

Kili meets a girl who has to go along on their quest on Gandalf's request. The girl captures his attention from the first time they meet and they grow to love each other over the course of the quest.

Pairing: Kili x OC female who can control natural elements

Chapter 5: Pain Part 2

Warnings: Death (orcs)

Gaia walks behind Dwalin with the town’s people surrounding them. Her eyes dart to Kili who is limping behind her with Fili short on his heels.

How are they going to reclaim Erebor when Kili can barely walk on his own?

She hears a soft groan from Kili and reaches her hand out to his. She feels around for his hand and takes his hand, walking slower in order for Kili to catch up. The hidden flower attached to his pants causes her to avert her gaze quickly.

The blackened flower does nothing to ease her worries.

The cheers of the crowd boom in her ears, but she keeps her attention on Kili’s pale features. She never noticed his eyes were such a dark brown, but it could perhaps be the paleness that accentuated them.

“Kili, are you sure?” Gaia asks, her voice mostly muffled by the cheering of the crowd. Kili gives a nod, but she knows he is in a lot of pain.

When they were together in the barrel, she felt his cold hands in her own. It was then that she knew how much trouble he truly was in.

She tried everything to get the poison from his blood, but she needs more time. It takes all her energy and strength when she performs her healing ritual which she picked up from the elves.

Kili did not want to risk her depleting her powers as they might still have to face Smaug. Gaia can only hope that Thorin does not allow Kili to continue with the quest. Fili would most likely also stay behind.

As the company makes their way onto the boat, Thorin stops Kili from getting on the boat. Some hope flickers across Gaia’s features as she knows that she will be able to help Kili once he can rest.

“Not you,“ Thorin says with his hand blocking Kili from getting into the boat. “We must travel at speed. You will slow us down.” Kili’s hand slips from Gaia’s. She can feel Kili’s heart breaking at Thorin’s words, aware of the importance of this quest to the King’s nephews.

“What are you talking about? I’m coming with you,” Kili argues back, an oblivious smile decorating his features.

“Not now.”

The realization hits Kili and the smile fades. How can he not continue this quest? This is what he has trained for his whole life. This is what he had lived for.

“I’m going to be there when that door is opened.” Kili’s voice is filled with despair. “When we first look upon the Halls of our Fathers, Thorin.”

Gaia steps forward with her eyes trained on Thorin. Thorin gives her a knowing look before he turns his attention back to his nephew.

“Kili, stay here. Rest,” Thorin says with sympathy, his hand cupping the back of Kili’s head. Anguish flickers across Kili’s eyes while he looks into Thorin’s eyes.

Kili hesitates a moment before he trudges back to where the company waited for the boat. Oin gets out of the boat and walks to Kili.

“My duty lays with the wounded,” he says with honor and Gaia bows her head to him when he passes her. Perhaps he can be of assistance when she heals Kili.

Gaia starts backward towards Kili, watching Fili arguing with his uncle. After a short discussion, Fili walks to them to be with his brother.

“You should go,” Kili’s voice is low, the pain evident in his tone. His eyes bore into Gaia’s, pleading for her to leave. “I do not want you to see me like this.”

Gaia takes his hand again and her free hand moves to his cheek. She rubs her thumb soothingly in circles on his cheek, a warm smile appearing on her face.

“I am not going anywhere.” Gaia gives his hand a gentle squeeze before she turns to the front to watch the company sail to the mountain. She feels Kili’s hand trying to give her hand a comforting squeeze, but he is too weak. His hand almost slips from hers again.

The Master of Lake Town starts bidding his goodbye to the company as the trumpets play and the people cheer. Gaia glances at Kili and notices the sorrow as he watches the boat leave him behind. At least Fili stayed behind with his brother.

“Ah. So you missed the boat as well?” Bofur asks. Gaia furrows her brows at him. Bilbo had asked where Bofur was, but she assumed he was amongst the company. It seems he overslept.

Gaia lets out a laugh, but Fili’s panicked calls to Kili force her to focus on Kili instead.

Oh no.

Kili is unable to stay upright and Oin along with Fili holds him up. Gaia did not think that it was possible, but Kili appears to be even paler than before. He is in dire need of help.

Bofur and Fili support Kili, looking around at someone who might be of assistance.

“The Master,” Gaia says, gesturing for them to follow her. She hurries to where he resides, making a path along the way to ease the journey of Bofur and Fili with Kili.

“There.” Gaia dodges a few people and finally emerges from the crowd.

“Please wait,” Fili shouts, forcing the Master to turn to them. “Please. We need your help,” Fili pleads. “My brother is sick.”

“Sick? Is it infectious? Get back,” the Master demands, waving his hand for them to move as far away from his as possible.

Gaia stares in disbelief at the revolting man at the top of the stairs. How can Man be like this? They do not care for anyone other than themselves. Nothing new, she supposes.

“Please, we need medicine,” Oin says, stepping forward. His tone is desperate and Gaia is aware that Kili needs immediate intervention. Or else he might not make it.

Alfrid tells them to leave the Master alone before they head back into the Hall. How are they supposed to heal Kili without any medicine?

Gaia needs certain herbs and plants to be able to perform her healing, but without them, she fears she might not be successful.

The guards push them, forcing them away from the only help there might be in this forsaken town.

Gaia chews the inside of her cheek, trying to think of any other person who might be able to help them.

“Bard,” she says to Bofur, her tone without hope. Will he be able to help them?

Gaia fights off the Orcs, using a wooden stick. She focuses on the tricks Kili taught her during their journey together and manages to sweep an orc off his feet. She turns and kicks an oncoming orc, causing the orc to fall backward.

A shout from Kili catches her attention and she spins around, trying to locate him. She runs to where Kili was before Orcs attacked them.

An Orc charges at her and nearly knocks her off her feet. She uses the wooden stick with all her strength to impale the orc. The orc coughs black ooze out, sinking to his knees before falling to the ground.

“Kili,” Gaia shouts, trying to find him. She hears a pained moan and follows the sound. “Kili.” She crouches down next to Kili as her hands move to the open wound. The poison has caused the flesh to turn black around the wound on his thigh.

“Kili, stay with me,” she whispers, forcing him up. His shouts pierce her heart and she feels a tear sting her cheek.

The Orcs retreat and Oin hurriedly makes his way over to Kili. Fili helps Bard’s children out of their hiding spots before he also walks to where Kili is laying on the table.

“We’re losing him.” Oin’s voice is panicked. Gaia cups Kili’s face, feeling the life leaving him. Gaia racks her brain, trying to remember a plant that she might find here. Her eyes shoot to the door as she remembers.

“Atholos.” Gaia gets up as fast as she is able before she swiftly runs out of the house. She guides the stairs to move with her and she lands on a platform below the house. Her feet search for the vibrations of livestock and it leads her to a nearby coop.

Pigs.

Of course. The humans see it as a weed.

Gaia grabs a handful of the plant and uses the wood to carry her back to Bard’s house. She falls through the window, rolling to break her fall. She forces her body to stand up and rushes to Kili.

“Ah, yes. Of course,” Oin says, giving her a quick smile. She places the plant on Kili’s wound which only worsens Kili’s pain. He cries out in agony and Gaia knows that she needs to save him. It might be too late. Damn those Orcs.

Gaia closes her eyes, shutting out all the noise. Especially Kili’s shouts of anguish. She goes back to her days when she lived with the Elves after she escaped Sauron.

They took her in after the war between Sauron and Elves, Men, and Dwarves. Everyone came together to prevent Sauron from taking over Middle Earth. She was created to destroy the enemy.

Sauron created her.

She cannot remember much from her early days, but she knows that she could never kill anyone. Except for the Orcs.

The words start flowing out of her heart. Her hands tighten around Kili’s thigh while her healing incantation courses through the air, embracing Kili.

Evil was used to bring her to this world and she thought that she would never escape its grip on her.

She managed to escape Sauron’s hold on her and fled. The Elves found her and decided to grant her shelter. They found out about her origins and threatened to kill her, but Elrond saved her from that cruel fate. He taught her how to use her powers and how to control the elements. He knew how powerful she truly was when she knew of nothing.

Gaia feels the energy of Earth rushing through her into Kili’s wound. The house trembles at the power of the healing chant and this causes the children to scream.

After Elrond had taught her the fundamentals of her power and where she came from, Gandalf showed up. Gandalf helped her to remember how she came into this world.

She was trained to kill the Elves and Men since they were the biggest threat to Sauron. Thus, Sauron made her smaller than humans to cause confusion. How can something so much smaller than Men and Elves cause such destruction? Still taller than dwarves.

She trained by killing the Orcs who were the weakest of them all and slowly moved up the ranks. It was always easy to kill Orcs.

When she was assigned her first mission, she had to kill a group of men who had managed to sneak past their defenses.

After she had killed the first man, she thought she was dying. She did not know what was wrong with her, but it felt as if her soul was ripped from her.

That was when she realized that Sauron was evil and that she had to get away. So she fled.

Kili stares at Gaia, watching as she transforms into another being. A being of pure energy. There is a dark glow emanating from her.

He cannot help but gawk at the strange and almost intoxicating beauty of Gaia. He has never seen such a being. She is ethereal.

The glow only darkens and he notices her veins turning black. It seems like she is absorbing the poison from him.

Gaia inhales deeply, allowing the poison to travel through her. She was made from malevolence, so she is able to absorb pure evil energy.

When she traveled with Gandalf throughout Middle Earth, she learned everything about the forests and lands. She knew what her true purpose was.

She needed to heal the lands after the war.

Gaia slightly opens her eyes to look at Kili, who seems to be in some sort of a trance. He is looking at her and she tries to smile at him, but the poison traveling through her does not allow her.

She closes her eyes again and exhales slowly. She cannot mess this up. She cannot lose Kili.

Kili continues to watch Gaia and realizes that the pain is gone. Or perhaps he is dead. Perhaps she came to accompany him into the afterlife. He cannot tell.

All he knows is that she has become much more important to him than he wants to admit. He never felt these feelings before. They only become worse when he is separated from Gaia. And the feelings are stronger when he is with her.

Do not look for something that might not be there.

The way his heart clenches at the thought forces him to close his eyes. Perhaps he is not dead yet. Only time will tell.

Gaia feels Kili relaxing under her touch and she opens her eyes. She inspects him to see whether he passed out or whether he is still awake. His eyes are closed and his breathing is even. It might be better for him to have passed out.

She finishes her incantation and rests her hands on Kili’s thigh. She feels her strength leaving her and her knees almost buckle beneath her. She stumbles to a nearby chair and falls into it, allowing herself to rest.

“Are you all right, lass?” Oin asks, placing his hand against her forehead. She lets out a tired chuckle and waves her hand dismissively.

“I will be.” Oin bows his head to her before he turns his attention to Kili. Fili crouches next to Gaia, his hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice quivering. “You saved my brother’s life. I am forever indebted to you.” Fili inclines his head and Gaia notices a tear sliding down his cheek. She places her hand over his on her shoulder.

“No, Fili. You don’t owe me anything. I’m just relieved we were able to save Kili in time,” Gaia says with a soft smile. Fili nods, humming in agreement.

“He should be fine,” Oin states. Gai flashes a smile at Fili who pulls her in for a hug. She laughs into the embrace, flooded with relief.

Fili lets go of her and heads to his brother. He taps Kili’s chest with a smile before he heads to the kitchen.

“We should get some rest. We leave in the morning.” The other dwarves mutter in agreement as they head to their makeshift beds.

Gaia glances at Kili and decides to rather stay awake. She can rest by his side. She moves her chair closer to Kili before she sits down again. Her hand trails over his wet locks and she lets out a relieved sigh.

She healed him.

She did not lose him.

Gaia takes a strand of Kili’s hair and starts to braid it absentmindedly. She remembers how Gandalf told her about loss and she thought she understood what he meant. The searing pain that she feels every time she sees an animal or man dies. But that was not what Gandalf meant. He meant this.

Losing people you care about more than anything else.

Gaia rests her head on Kili’s arm, sighing. He must know loss. The dwarves of Erebor lost their home. They lost so many to Smaug. They lost everything.

Kili mumbles something and she lifts her head. She sees Kili’s eyes opening, waiting for him to recognize where he is. He continues to mumble, his eyes glued to her.

“Kili, you’re all right. I got the poison out of you. And your wound is closing up. How do you feel?” Gaia asks, her hand cupping his cheek.

Kili mutters something under his breath, but she cannot figure out what he is saying.

“You’re fine,” she whispers to him while she plays with his hair.

Kili’s eyes close again, a soft groan leaving his lips.

Gaia smiles at the peace that settles over the home. She missed this. This calmness. Except for the snoring of the dwarves, but she got used to that.

She stands up and replaces the walnuts that served as a pillow with Bofur’s jacket that was laying around.

“There you go,” she whispers, placing Kili’s head on the jacket. “Night.”

Gaia sits next to Kili, resting her head on her arms. Just one more day, then they will reach Erebor. Then she can . . .

Gaia sighs.

Then what?

[vampyreelf]

Dragon Sickness

A/N: This is kinda of a continuation of It's Has Always Been You but you don't have to read it, but you should lol.

Summary: Thorin is not the same since entering Erebor, and that worries you but the sex is completely different now, especially when he's jealous.

Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Warnings: smut, some angst, breeding kink, let me know if I missed anything else.

AO3 Link

GIF on my main @ladyalatariel

Finally back in Erebor, you and Thorin were back in the halls of his kingdom and the two of you couldn’t be happier and with Smaug finally dead was a relief even though you could see the destruction he brought to Lake-Town and it made your heart sad, you only hoped that everyone was alive and well. But now, you could see Thorin was different, something was wrong with him. Thorin was obsessed with finding the Arkenstone and all of the company, including you were trying to find it, he was barking orders and overall unpleasant to be around but you paid no mind to that, you were happy to be in your home after so long.

You approached Thorin, he seemed to be talking to himself but you needed to speak with him, this was getting too much, him being inconsiderate and threatening everyone, including poor Bilbo and accusing him of having the Arkenstone. The two of you were now in your bedroom, the place still stank of dragon but you paid no mind to that.

“Thorin, my love.” You announced yourself but he didn't look at you, but he raised his head. “Are you alright? You should eat something, it’s been a long time since you ate last.” You approached him and rested your head on his shoulder but he moved away from you. “Thorin, please tell me what’s the matter. You have been behaving differently since entering Erebor, please talk to me, I’m your wife.” The fact that the two of you told each other everything and now you couldn’t be more distant hurt you a lot.

“They must’ve betrayed me.” His hushed voice and demeanor, as if he was speaking of a grand conspiracy was absurd to you, but you decided to listen to him, despite the circumstances, you missed his voice greatly.

“What do you mean, my love?” Indulging in his delusions didn't seem like the best idea but you weren’t perfect, and Thorin has been speaking in riddles for some time now.

“One of them has taken the Arkenstone.” Thorin whispered, getting closer to you, speaking directly into your face. “They betrayed me, and the hobbit…he is definitely hiding something.” Thorin was walking pacing around the bedroom, trying to explain what you can only assume his ramblings, he approached you at a great speed. “You are the only one I can trust, my sunshine.” He called you his sunshine many times, because you were the one thing that brightened any room he was in, like the sun. “We must find the culprit, the villain that betrayed me.” He touches your cheeks rather forcefully, he seemed out of his mind.

“Why do you think there is someone hiding the Arkenstone from you, Thorin?” You touched his arm, getting closer to him and he took a deep breath, it was hard to believe that anyone would do this, and why would Thorin believe this after everything all of you went through.

“BECAUSE WE CAN’T FIND IT.” His loud voice made you jump, he has never yelled at you before which scared quite a bit, you never felt that way with Thorin before, even he was a bit rougher with you in bed.

“Alright, I will leave you to it. I think you should spend some time by yourself.” That made Thorin anxious, he needed you near him, you were the only one he could so you leaving was not an option for him.

“No, no…I apologise.” Thorin apologised, it was as if a switch flipped inside him. “Please, stay with me, please allow me to hold my wife tonight.” He knelt in front of you, his forehead on your stomach and his big, strong hands holding your hips. “We shan’t talk about this anymore, I have my home back, I am king now and I want to be with my queen, to hold you, my sunshine.” Thorin was a proud dwarf, he never begged, not even to you, it pulled at your heartstrings.

“Alright, Thorin…let’s sleep and hopefully things will be better tomorrow.” He nodded his head and the two of you got ready for bed, not saying anything, it was clear as day that something was clearly wrong with Thorin but you had no idea what it was, ever since entering Erebor,  he has been…different.

The two of you got in bed quietly, this day and Thorin’s antics drained you completely. But Thorin was restless, he hadn't stopped grunting and moving around in bed which was rather distracting, he stopped moving all of the sudden and you thought that was the end of it. That was when you felt his lips on your back, his strong hand on your thighs, teasing you.

“What are you doing, Thorin?” Your legs were already opening for him, you could never resist your husband at all.

“I want to make love with my wife.” He turned you around manhandling you and he kissed you roughly, and you moaned into the kiss, hands moving to his luscious hair but then Thorin grabbed your wrists and put them on top of your head. “I want you to keep your hands on top of your head.” He grabbed a piece of fabric and binded your hands together.

“Alright, Thorin.” You nodded and his lips connected to your jawline down to your neck, you moan, his hand moves to your breasts against your nightgown, he was acting like a starved dwarf and you were his last meal, but you weren’t complaining but you wanted to touch him.

“Thorin, please.” Your voice was strained, he played with your nipples while he was biting your neck down to your shoulders, your senses were overwhelmed, Thorin was all over you and it didn't seem he was going to stop anytime soon.

“Fuck, I need you on all fours.” Before you could process his words, your husband turned you around and your ass was now in the air, your hands were still bound in front of you, so you used your elbows to balance yourself in bed. “How I missed your pussy, my love.” Thorin pulls your nightgown to your waist and without warning nor preparation enters you and you screamed in pleasure, his cock filled you up deliciously but you always needed time to adjust to his size.

“Thorin.” You were chanting his name like a prayer, his cock was hitting the perfect spot inside you, and you were dripping, Thorin put his finger on your clit and the circles were quick and small, the familiar knot on your stomach was growing, when pleasure took over your whole body, your toes curled and you screamed with the amount of pleasure but Thorin didn't stop, his thrusts were hard and deep with an incessant pace. “Thorin, please.” You couldn’t formulate any words, you could only hear his deep grunts and moans.

“Your pussy is so tight, wife.” Thorin pulled your hair in one of his hands and your back arched even more, his thrusts were getting even harder and pain and pleasure were getting hard to distinguish. “I’m close.” He grunted and without warning he spilled inside you, grunting and moaning, his seed warm inside you, being sensitive and all it was more noticeable how much Thorin spilled inside you. Thorin turned you over and removed the fabric from your wrists and kissed you, it was deep and rough but you didn't mind, you were spent.  “You did so well, sunshine.” He smiled and pulled you to his chest, it wasn’t long until the two of you were fast asleep, not even having time to clean the mess.

------------------------------------

He was acting differently again, he was obsessed with finding the Arkenstone and was being rude to everyone, Bilbo the most and you the least. He spoke in riddles in regards to the Arkenstone, all of the gold, he wasn’t the same man you met in these same halls for the first time. You were outside, hearing Thorin yell out orders to the company, you had no idea what to do.

“Y/N.” You gasped when you saw Bilbo, he looked concerned due to the tears on your eyes. “Are you alright?” He sat down next to you, it seems that the two of you were the only ones noticing what’s going on so far, a kindred spirit of sorts.

“No, Mr. Baggins.” You look at him with a sad smile, all of your emotions were all over the place. “Thorin never treated me this way, ever since we lost Erebor…he has been trusting me in all matters, taking my advice into consideration even if he didn't take action, and now? He doesn’t even listen to me, I am at a loss.” You cried into his shoulders and he comforted you, Bilbo was the only one that understood you. “Please, not a word to Thorin…I don’t know what he would do if he found out about my doubts.” 

“Of course, I will never say a word.” The two of you smile at each other and look at the city of Dale, something is coming, you can feel it.

--------------------------------

The elven army came and they were in Dale, they were about to attack but that’s when you saw Bard on his horse, perhaps a compromise can be achieved. He spoke of Smaug and also Thorin’s promise, and your husband touched on the army of elves, Bard asked for an audience and you urged Thorin to listen to him.

“If we can avoid war, we should consider it.” Whispering so only your husband could hear it, he nodded at you and went down to speak with Bard, you didn't follow him since you thought that would anger Thorin.

You heard Thorin’s screams, talking about being a beggar to the Lake-Town people, and how had no choice but to beg to reclaim his birthright. Thorin demanded the elven army to leave, and with that Bard left and no resolution was agreed upon. You took a deep breath, Thorin would get into a war rather than share Erebor’s riches.

Now the company was getting ready for war, Thorin looked so handsome in his armour but you didn't want this at all, you wished he would listen to you. You helped Thorin get into his armour, Fili and Kili were close to the two of you, and you were close to them, you helped Dis give birth to them, you loved them so much.

“Thorin, I must speak with you.” You whispered to him and he followed you to a small hallway, he was close to you. “Please, Thorin. There  must be another way, we have reclaimed Erebor, you are the king under the mountain, must we have war with the elves?” Pleading to him with tears in your eyes but he wasn’t listening to you, he was looking at your body, his hands found themselves in your waist. “Thorin.” You meekly protested but you couldn’t deny the fact you loved his hands on you.

“Once we defeat the elven lord, we shall make an heir, relieve Fili and Kili of the burden of being my heirs, and continue the line of Durin.” Thorin kissed your neck rather roughly and your eyes rolled at the back of your head but you needed to concentrate, you had a feeling he was trying to distract you.

“Then stop this nonsense, allow us to live in peace to raise our children and for you to rule, my love.” Thorin grunted, but he didn't speak against your statement, you might be getting through him, you touch his cheek softly. “Allow your beard to grow in your prosperous reign, my king.” Your husband closed his eyes, thinking about the future, your children running around Erebor, sitting on his lap whilst he was on the throne, pulling on his beard. Thorin spoke once that his beard will only grow after reclaiming the mountain and that he did, he did the impossible but he’s not allowing himself to settle down, still the young prince trying to find a home in the blue mountains.

“I only want the best for our family, my sunshine.” He kissed you and left you to finish getting ready, why was he doing this? How you wished he was still the same Thorin he was before.

----------------------------------

All of the company was at the top of the mountain, and there was Bard and King Thranduil, Thorin put you behind him and he got the bow and arrow and got the elvenking to stop in his tracks, he saw you and smirked.

“There it is the little human that was found in my realm.” Thorin was visibly angry, both Bard and Thranduil looking at you. “Please, put some sense into your thick headed husband. War can be avoided if he allows his debt to be paid.” You could feel Thorin’s anger radiating through his body, you thought that you were getting through to him, much to your disappointment, you were not.

Insults were hurled, the Arkenstone showed up and Thorin almost killed the hobbit but only one thing was certain, war was inevitable. This was a nightmare, then Dain and his Iron Islands army arrived, but in the middle of all of this Thorin pulled you rather forcefully to a room, a room that was filled with gold, he locked the door and marched towards you.

“Did you enjoy yourself out there?” He barked, you’ve never seen Thorin so angry.

“My love, whatever do you speak of?” You were left utterly confused but that only seemed to enrage your husband even more.

“Do not play coy with me, I have seen the way they ogled you.” His nose touched yours, you felt his breathing on your face. “MY WIFE.” Thorin yelled out, you decided not to react and afraid to admit the fact that you enjoyed your husband this way, so possessive of you.

“Thorin, stop saying this…” He didn't let you finish your sentence.

“Did you enjoy it?” He holds you in place, you feel his rings on your skin. “Did you enjoy a man and an elf ogling you? Do you enjoy being desired by them, tell me.” Thorin looked like a predator, he walked and you stepped back, falling onto the gold your husband hoarded in this room. It was extremely uncomfortable but at this moment, you only cared about how much anger Thorin had and how it turned you on.

“Thorin, please.” You had no idea what you were begging for, Thorin smirks, he loves the power he had over you.

“I will have you on top of my wealth, and you will give me a son, an heir to continue the line of Durin.” The dwarf ripped your clothing off your body, which made you gasp, his rough hands, warrior hands go to your breasts, making you moan wantonly. “My queen moans like a common whore.” Thorin slapped your breasts and you yell out, the pain and pleasure merging as one.

“Thorin, please.” You spoke with a ragged breath, touching him, making him remove his clothing. “I need you inside me, my king.” That made Thorin’s dick twitch, you referring to him with his title in such a desperate way was powerful to him.

“Do you, now?” His hand grabs your face and he kisses you roughly, it was all teeth and tongue and you loved it, moaning into the kiss. “Tell me that you are mine.” Despite the wanton lust you were under, you knew what he was feeling, insecurity and that would not do at all.

“You are the only one for me, my king. I am yours, Thorin. Forever.” Speaking in such earnestness brought a wave of emotions into your husband’s heart, he loved you so much and the fact that you were half human, he often worried that you would leave him, you were his One, there’s no way he’d survive you leaving him. “I love you, Thorin Oakenshield.” He kisses you again, this time slower, more passionate, full of love.

You could feel Thorin’s hard cock on your thighs, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he grinded against your pussy. Thorin starts kissing your neck, down to your collarbone and your hands going to his long hair.

“Thorin, don’t make me wait, fuck me.” Hurriedly he enters your pussy, you are obscenely wet, and both you and Thorin groan, he bites into your shoulder and his pace is unforgiving, you feel the hardness of the golden coins but you didn't care, his cock was hitting your favourite spot inside you. “Thorin, fuck.” Your moans were travelling around the room, but you didn't care who heard you, the only thing you cared about was cumming on Thorin’s cock.

“I will put a son in your womb, my queen.” You clench around his cock and Thorin chuckles. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? To swell with my child?” The noise that he makes with his thrusts with the gold was distracting but Thorin could see that you were close and he was too. “You will look so pretty walking around with my son in your womb in the halls of Erebor.” With that, you came on his cock with a scream and Thorin followed you shortly, you felt his seed inside you. 

After a few minutes Thorin removed his cock from inside you and you felt empty, but Thorin grabbed you and took you to bed, you were extremely tired and sore due to the golden coins.

“Rest, my love. I will be here with you when you wake up, I love you.” He kissed your forehead and you fell asleep on your husband’s chest.

[ambitiouspotions]

KING & QUEEN | THORIN OAKENSHIELD | ONESHOT

summary — in which y/n greenhand, a hobbit, is betrothed to thorin oakenshield

word count — 2.2k

warnings — 18+ MDNI, smut

author’s note — the timeline may not be completely accurate, but it’s smut so you’re welcome.

the halls of erebor were replenished and repopulated. the mountain was how it was years before the ghastly beast, smaug's, unfortunate rule of terror and chaos. one little hobbit changed the course of history for a lineage of dwarves. although some dwarves were laid to rest after the battle of five armies, their home was reclaimed and now prosperous. the neighboring village of dale was also brought back to glory. each place was newly thriving and peaceful.

the king under the mountain, though permanently scarred and sporting a limp when walking, was healthy and more apt to appreciate life. this did not mean he lost his gruff demeanor or stubbornness, or even his sharp tongue, but maybe it stuck to him because of the loss of his nephews. thorin, three times a year, made trips to see his hobbit friend in the shire. though thorin found himself wanting to visit for a secondary reason to seeing mr. bilbo baggins. bilbo had acquired a housemaid, though she did much more than housekeeping. she tended the gardens, made all his meals, filled his smoking pipe, listened to his stories, organized his writing area, and even made good use of bilbo’s treasured artifacts by displaying them in his study room.

she was in her mid-thirties when bilbo returned on his unexpected journey; for a hobbit, she was just now considered to be an adult. she aided bilbo in placing his belongings back in his home when the other hobbits declared his death. oh, dear bilbo loved her company. she wouldn’t talk unless spoken to because she never wanted to ruin his thought process, and the moments he wanted to talk, she made wonderful and hearty conversation. the mighty and noble dwarven king could see his closed heart opening again when he visited the burglar of the company. she made tasty meals and the most comfortable sleeping arrangements. the night mr. baggins had company; she would stay the entire night to ensure everyone had what they needed. she was very attentive to her work, and maybe that was because bilbo paid her handsomely, or maybe it was because she truthfully had a passion for her work for the elder hobbit. the past ten years, not only was thorin writing to mr. baggins, but he was also corresponding with y/n greenhand, the attentive she-hobbit working for bilbo baggins.

y/n greenhand's family, in hint to their last name, grew the most gorgeous gardens in the shire. they were employed to fill every pot with their full and plentiful flowers and to spiffy the gardens of everyone without a green thumb. when y/n wasn’t with bilbo she was gardening with them. some flowers were even transported to different villages. bilbo was proud of his so-called housemaid. when he sat in front of his hobbit hole smoking his pipe, and a neighbor would greet him, he would proudly ask and proclaim, “and did you see my flowers this season? they are even more beautiful than the last. mmm yes, miss y/n planted them for me.”

thorin, on his first visit back to the shire, once his recovery was fully complete, suspected that bilbo had married, but the hobbit insisted he had no time to be attached to a particular someone. the dwarf was silently delighted to know bilbo didn’t take miss greenhand as a wife. she was well, very beautiful, and capable. capable must have been the right word. no other nonsense words would fall into thorin’s mind, well until he asked for her hand in marriage. and even that was another ten years before he stopped debating with the stubbornness inside of his aged mind. bilbo may have given thorin a push, but the dwarf would never admit to the truth behind that.

speaking of nonsense, the backstory of how thorin was stubborn is no new information. what is new information? the fact that is he a wonderful lover.

y/n laid her head back in the large wooden bathing tub, inhaling the steam that was rising from the water. she pushed a strand of loose hair that escaped her bun behind her slightly pointed ear. much like thorin, she had a full day of work at the kingdom tending to the children. even being a ruler still meant hard work, but y/n never cared much, seeing as she spent her life in the shire employed. thorin had been spending lots of his time in the mines, forging and hammering. he oversaw the production and efficiency of the dwarves. the trade of dwarven products continued to allow the kingdom to grow.

there was no knock as thorin entered, making y/n sink further into the bath water until noticing it was her beloved. her arms were crossed instinctively to cover her chest until the dwarf put his calloused hands on the edge of the tub. she ran her finger across his knuckles.

“still modest after all this time, my queen?” thorin asked, pressing his mouth to the top of her year when he spoke.

y/n gave a gentle chuckle. her hands were now pawing at his salt and peppered hair. many years ago, it wasn’t as grey as it once was, but thorin wore it gracefully. his beard was in matching fashion with the grey streaks.

“i have to leave something to mystery,” she leaned her head against his mouth, feeling a kiss being placed on her pointed ear.

“is it a mystery if i have it memorized?” he said coyly, reaching his hands into the water to move her hands away from her chest. his hands began massaging her shoulders, pushing his thumbs into any hard spots he felt to allow y/n to relax further.

y/n lifted her head and began to push herself out of the water. thorin backed up but offered his hand to help the hobbit out of the bathwater. he stared longingly at her, wanting to be greedy and consume all of her. he began pulling off his layers of cloaks and furs so he could match her splendor. his hands quickly found her waist, each of them having a bit of extra pudge from overindulging in drinks and food in celebration of their kingdom.

his rough beard rubbed across her cheek as her fingers lingered in his chest hair. he began kissing her jawline; the many times before that he had done this same action could never compare to redoing it each time they were intimate. he was breathing in her fresh scent of florals and bath milk that she had previously soaked in. occasionally, he would drag his tongue across her neck and lightly nip at it, causing y/n to bring herself closer to the dwarf.

her eyes were closed, already submitting to the king. it was easy to succumb to thorin when he had so much sex appeal. the way he moved his hands, hell, the way he stared was enough to make any woman crumble, but y/n was his lucky match. y/n grabbed his face when he continued his kisses past her shoulders. thorin understood this, immediately connecting their lips instead.

he pushed his hips against hers just to have contact with his significant other. y/n could feel thorin’s cock bulging as their kissing continued. before she knew it her back was hitting the soft furs on the bed. thorin was spreading her legs eagerly, his fingers dragging against her inner thigh as his mind was immersed in the beauty before him. y/n picked her head up excitedly, knowing the next step as she saw his fingers come closer to her heat. she bit the inside of her mouth still watching until he made eye contact.

“think i’ll do something wrong?” he questioned, spitting directly into her cunt. y/n leaned back, as though she hadn’t risen at all in the first place.

“of course not, just curious.” y/n said, her face flushing red as his fingers massaged the spit into her folds.

“curious? you don’t remember what happens next?” thorin asked, only pushing one finger inside. the hobbit swallowed her spit, not wanting to say a word. she only wanted what was next, what she knew was next.

“i seem to have forgotten.” he teased; another finger went inside. his working hands were so rough yet so delicate they knew how to please. as they moved back and forth slowly, y/n wiggled uncomfortably on the bed, wanting him to accelerate his movements. they then stopped.

“what am i supposed to do after my fingers were inside of you, darling?” thorin asked, now putting his fingers against her plump lips and asking for entrance. y/n took them in her mouth, allowing him to control the speed at which they slid back and forth. he placed his finger back against her lips to permit her to speak.

“you put your cock inside me.” y/n said. thorin was leaning over her, looking deeply into her eyes as she answered. he shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“wrong,” he stated, holding her chin tightly and going in for another kiss. y/n’s hands moved into his thick locks of hair and then to his erection. she was careful not to agitate the old, deep scar on his abdomen as she found her way to his shaft, but thorin stopped her. “what comes next?” he demanded, loosening her hair from the bun so he could later plan to grab it.

“you put your head between my legs,” she said, exhaling shakily. her mind was fuzzy only wanting her husband to get to his routine quickly so she could enjoy the pleasure he gave.

thorin gave a sly smirk, placing a single kiss on her lips and then making himself comfortable between her legs. his hands were gripping her waist, his elbows already in a position to open her legs if she were to shut them because she squirmed. he enjoyed himself each time he was feasting upon her womanhood. her wetness engulfing his taste buds and dripping down his beard was the right combination to give him satisfaction. messy good fun was had for thorin as he explored the cunt of his queen. lapping at her juices and suckling her clit to hear the moans spill from her mouth.

the moment thorin decided he was done he wiped his face on his hairy forearm and pulled her legs to his shoulders while inserting his shaft. y/n’s mouth was agape as the dwarven king entered her. that was never a feeling she would ever get used to. thorin was well endowed and knew the proper usage to send pleasure coursing through her body. y/n gripped his arms tightly as he thrust into her. filling every ounce of her being with his rock-hard erection was causing the bed to rattle as he moved. thorin was cursing under his breath about how tight the hobbit was. sweat was beading on his face as he continued to push into y/n. for a few moments, he would slow himself, his mind was begging him to press on, but his want for an orgasm was less than his need for pounding into his queen. the moment he started again, he stuffed a blanket under the small of her back; to raise her just a bit higher. he had known he had done right as the hobbit’s moans were louder and more high-pitched. as he pounded into her throbbing heat, she squirmed with a whiny moan, her juices squirting onto thorin’s lower abdomen and the sheets

he had a smirk on his face as he aided the woman in flipping over. he pushed her head into the wet sheets. y/n happily propping up her bottom for thorin to enter her open, dripping cunt again. the room began to smell sweaty as the two continued with their actions. thorin only now propped himself on his good knee for leverage, leaving the other side open for y/n to easily fall back onto his cock with every thrust.

y/n crumbled before the king, tears in her eyes as she shouted his name needily when climaxing. thorin wasn’t far behind as within a few moment he unraveled. a shockwave went through his body as he orgasmed. he threw his head back and caressed the hobbit’s plump ass that was still resting against his cock. with a deep exhale, thorin lay beside his queen and grabbed a fist full of her hair to kiss her once more. y/n did the same. they were entangled for a while, using a clean fur to cover their torsos if any member of the kingdom needed to call upon them while they were still indecent.

y/n leaned her head into the dwarven king’s chest and shut her eyes to relax, just as she was doing before in her floral milk bath. thorin inhaled her scent, now liking it more because he was mixed in with the scents of the earth.

“i could not possibly imagine having this kingdom without you,” thorin said, shutting his eyes and stroking the small of his queen’s back.

“and nor could i,” the hobbit said, kissing his pectoral and rubbing his thick dwarven chest hair again.

[madwomansapologist]

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM | THRANDUIL OROPHERION

thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attention. if he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see you sooner. or: how gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

WARNINGS: canon levels of violence, blood and gore; pre-smaug; meet-cute; eventual smut; strangers to lovers; slow burn; yearning & pining; love letters; memory alteration; near death experience; saruman is an asshole; + i'll add more as we go.

SUBSCRIPTION: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish @h0ly-fire @whore-of-many-hot-men @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @homewhereitsat @instantnoooodles @hungrh4yyy @scrumpdidlyuptious @mirandastuckinthe80s @linaaajackson @moraxnomora + tell me if you want to be tagged!

check it on ao3! ★ check the pinterest board! ★ check the playlist!

i. familiarity

ii. a call to motion

iii. a finite deal

iv. letters

v. enough is enough

vi. tomorrow

vii. and then you know

viii. a nightingale sang

ix. gandalf doesn't know all

x. burning

xi. starlight

xii. mortals and fools

xiii. closer

xiv. trapped ; being edited.

xv. judgment ; being edited.

xvi. winter ; being edited.

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist

[bitkahuna]

“Big day tomorrow.”

“Mm, yes. They finally put a crown on that head of yours and I’m dealing with your inflated ego for the rest of my life.”

Thorin chuckled, his chest rumbling against Bilbo's face. "Aye, and ye'll be right there beside me, dealin' with all the pomp and ceremony."

Bilbo groaned dramatically, burying his face in Thorin's chest. "Don't remind me. I'd rather face Smaug again."

-----

I'm gonna be honest this chapter is just fucking smut and I really can't post that much of it.

[hottpinkpenguin]

I'm in desperate need of sub Thranduil × dom fem reader

Don't care what it is, but i need to see this man put into his place tbh

Slap him, pull his hair, peg him, sneak up on him, drag him away to a secluded area, make him get on his knees and beg. Literally anything 😭😩 Luv ur work

A/n: there's nothing here but toe-curling smut :) hope you love it. MINORS: THIS WORK IS NOT FOR YOU!! DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ only.

Crawl To Me

Sub!Thranduil X Dom!FemReader (gotta be honest, Daddy Thranduil doesn't stay sub forever)

Warnings: smut smut smut, absolutely not even a whisper of a plot, P in V, creampie, squirting, dom/sub vibes, smacking - Word Count: 3646

You jerked upright against the carved wood of the throne, catching yourself just before slipping into sleep. The council of advisors assembled around the dais stifled chuckles at your reaction. The bard from Lake Town who was serenading you and your husband, Thranduil, didn’t notice. He pressed on, his reedy voice warbling over the painfully mistuned notes of the cheap lyre he plucked. You’d appreciated the gesture of appreciation from the residents of Lake Town for the role your people had played in rescuing them from Smaug almost twenty years ago, but after a long and tedious day of presiding over the business of Mirkwood, you desperately needed some excitement in the throne room to grab your attention. Next to you, Thranduil watched the bard serenely, his expression hovering between interest and fondness. He didn’t react at all, although you knew that he had sensed your uncharacteristically obvious disruption. Although you knew you should have been paying studious attention to the performing bard - like your husband - you found your restless mind wandering to other distractions. His handsome side profile did nothing but further escalate your scheming mind. A wicked smirk spread across your face as a plan took shape. Get rid of the bard, and release some of this damn pent-up energy. 

As the plan took full form, you knew that Thranduil was tracing the direction of your thoughts. He could feel your eyes roaming across his face, lingering on his full mouth, remembering the feeling of his lips discovering every inch of your skin… down the long line of his throat and over those broad shoulders that you loved to cling to as his fingers and tongue and cock drove you wild with pleasure… drinking in the sight of his long, smooth hair, imagining how it would feel twined between your fingers. With a shudder, you dragged your distracted mind back to the throne room, uncrossing and recrossing your legs in the other direction, savoring the barest hint of friction in your legs. Thranduil marked the motion, his eyebrow raising imperceptibly. He knew you too well. It was almost a damn liability, and the knowledge that he could sense your awakening lust made it even harder to focus. You sensed his consent in the soft curl at the corner of his mouth and the way his long fingers ran over the smooth wood of the throne’s carved arm in languid, teasing circles. The image of his fingers sent a flicker of warmth curling up your spine from deep within your core. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you forced your focus away from your husband and back to the crooning bard, resolved to wait until the two of you were alone later that night to see your plans fulfilled… 

**Three Hours Later**

“What do you think you’re doing?” You demanded, stepping into your bedchamber and closing the door behind you with confidence. You heard the guards outside quietly leave to reposition themselves further down the halls, granting you and Thranduil privacy.

Across the room from where you stood, Thranduil froze, his hand mere inches from the green velvet robe he’d been reaching for. You’d timed your entry well; you’d entered just in time to find him shirtless, stripped down to nothing but his soft linen trousers, moments away from covering his exquisite frame in the robe you’d gifted him at the celebration of your marriage anniversary the year prior. 

He heard the note of demand in your voice. He turned half to face you before you issued another command. “Don’t look at me,” you purred as you crossed the room to him. The muscles of his upper back flexed in anticipation as you approached. The sight of his body tensing in your presence was intoxicating. Your fingers came to rest gently on his muscled bicep, tracing a line along the ridge of his shoulder as you whispered in his ear. “Does my lord wish to be commanded, or take commands this night?”

You knew before he answered what he would say; the obsequious way he held his eyes from meeting yours told you that he was in no mood to make decisions. But, nevertheless, it was your practice as a couple to express your wishes in words, even if you were so attuned to one another that a mere glance could say more than your mouths ever could. 

“My wish is only to please,” he replied softly. His blue eyes burned as he turned halfway to face you. “I will do whatever my lady commands of me.”

Your blood sang at Thranduil’s concession. You felt your smirk deepen as the plans you’d been scheming of in the throne room clamored for your attention. Where to begin?

“As you wish,” you replied smugly. 

“Turn to face me.” You took a step back from Thranduil, allowing him to turn and face you fully. The candlelight danced across his muscled torso - a sight you drank in greedily. You kept your eyes glued to him, lingering on the trail of dark hair that started below his bellybutton, tracing a path downward to the part of him that you wanted the most. Your skin danced with heat as you undid the corseted laces at the small of your back, your dress loosening around your shoulders. You shimmied out of it, leaving the embossed black and silver fabric in a heap upon the floor. The cool of the night air mixing with your appetite for release made your skin pucker in goosebumps. You saw Thranduil’s gaze begin to move up the expanse of your bare legs before you issued your next command.

“I said, don’t look at me.” Your words burned with taunting, the feeling of power growing as you saw Thranduil’s expression crumble in disappointment. His eyes fell back to the floor. 

“Your job, right now, is to listen. Can you do that, my lord?” Confusion flashed across his face. This wasn’t your usual fare, but you were set on a path and wouldn’t be turned from it now. He nodded once, swallowing thickly. 

“I can’t hear you, Thranduil,” you continued seriously. He shifted with frustration as he replied, “Yes, my lady, I can listen.”

“Good,” you cooed, stepping back until you felt the bedframe connect with the backs of your legs. You sank onto the mattress, spreading your legs wide and displaying your naked pussy to him. Although his eyes never left the floor, you sensed that he knew what he was missing by the way he chewed his bottom lip, a large bulge beginning to form in his trousers, just below the flat planes of his lower stomach. His hands twitched aimlessly at his sides, almost as if asking your permission.

“You’re not to look, or to touch anything, without my permission,” you added, relishing in the way Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood, the most powerful and regal being you’d ever seen, crumpled in begrudging submission at your words. He nodded, biting down harder on his lip, eyes glued obediently to the floor.

“I can’t hear you,” you said teasingly, one of your hands coming to cup your breast, the other snaking its way down between your legs. Wetness was beginning to accumulate at your center, and you ran your fingers through it. The soft, squelching noise was quiet, but you knew Thranduil heard it. His eyes widened, almost darting upwards before he caught himself, swallowing down a muted moan. 

“Yes, my queen,” he replied. 

“Good job. Kings who follow orders always get rewarded.” You let the promise drip sweetly off your tongue like thick honey. Thranduil shivered with restraint, his head tilting on his neck as his eyes bored holes in the wooden floor. The bulge in his pants grew as the V-shaped muscles atop his pelvis flexed. His fingers found the edge of the dressing table he was leaning against and curled under the edge, desperate for something to grab. You thought about correcting him - reminding him that he didn’t have your permission to touch the table - but your mind was easily distracted by the sight of him getting increasingly needy. Your breath quickened as your fingers found the sensitive bud at the top of your slit, tracing soft and teasing circles around it. The tantalizing sensation and the vision of your subservient king caused you to gasp softly. Thranduil heard the sound and shifted with discomfort. A small spot of moisture at the end of his erection had formed in his trousers, and his knuckles were turning white where his fingers gripped the dressing table.

“Get on your knees for me, my king,” you commanded. Thranduil knelt almost instantly, his desire to please you so consuming that the floorboards shook under his weight. His cock bounced eagerly in his pants, and the sight only tightened the hot coil that was beginning to build deep in your core. 

You shimmied yourself towards the edge of the bed until your pussy hovered right at the edge of the mattress, your feet flat on the floor and knees splayed wide. Thranduil still hadn’t lifted his gaze from the floor. 

“Crawl to me.” The command was so delicious that just hearing yourself say the words pitched you an inch closer to your own orgasm. Thranduil’s eyes flashed with blatant desire as he obeyed, dropping to his hands and knees and moving towards the sound of your voice. The sight of him - half undressed, a faint sheen of sweat dancing across his creamy skin, long hair the color of fresh butter gleaming in the candlelight - on his hands and knees at your command was intoxicating. The pace of your fingers sped up against your clit, and you had to fight the urge to close your knees and rub your thighs together. 

He closed the space between you quickly and hesitated. The sound of your wet fingers moving quickly against your slick center filled the room. 

“Take off your trousers.” Thranduil did as commanded, undoing the lacing of his trousers. His cock burst free from his pants with a satisfied groan from you. His length was impressive, and even after the countless times you’d taken him, you found yourself practically mewling for him to be inside you. But you were resolved to draw this out, to extend your pleasure, and undoubtedly his as well. 

“Kiss my thigh, Thranduil.” Your breathing was shallow, your command not quite so drawling as before. Thranduil lept at your words, his hand instinctively coming to grab your leg as he sat upright.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” you interrupted, momentarily moving your hand away from your clit to slap his arm down. “I said, kiss my thigh. Not touch.” 

Thranduil looked half-crestfallen, half-crazed as he nodded with a quiet murmur of “yes, my queen” before he pressed his lips to the inside of your knee, his hand returning to the floor. 

“Higher,” you ordered. “And close your eyes.” Thranduil did as commanded, his eyelids fluttering shut as he traced a line of kisses up the inside of your thigh. You brought your fingers back to your clit, letting your head fall back against the mattress. Your orgasm was close, and you had designs on how to get yourself there. 

“Keep going,” you murmured, your voice rising in pitch as you felt yourself climbing up one side of your climax. Thranduil’s lips were close to the seam of your thigh, so close you knew he could smell your sex, perhaps even taste you. 

“When I tell you to, I want your lips on my pussy,” you heaved out, eyelids fluttering closed as your fingers strummed needily against your clit. Your toes were curling under, your calf muscles clenching as your thighs began to shake. 

“Say the word, my queen.” Thranduil was so close to your center that you felt the deep baritone of his voice vibrating at your core. The sensation plucked just the chord you needed, and as you felt yourself beginning to come undone, you cried out. “Now!”

Thranduil’s mouth was on your pussy before the syllable had tumbled fully from your lips. He lapped and sucked and ran his tongue over and into you. Your orgasm crashed onto you like a thousand cresting waves, your ears filling with cotton as the earthly world fell away for a moment. You grasped at Thranduil’s head, pulling him harder against you as your walls fluttered and your thighs quaked. Your cries turned silent as Thranduil’s tongue sent you into bliss over and over again, the sounds of his slurping and groaning against your slit the only thing left tethering you to the moment. You drifted there for a while, catapulting from one trembling orgasm into another, until you didn’t recognize the words your lips were trying to form. Everything turned to a shimmering vapor except the mouth between your legs. 

You felt yourself beginning to fall back into your body, your legs collapsing in exhaustion. Thranduil, much to your delight, had stayed true to his orders and kept his eyes closed and his hands unencumbered. You propped yourself up on your elbows, enjoying the view as he lapped at your juices greedily. His mouth and chin were wet with your sex, his cock so swollen it looked painful. Gently, you pushed against his forehead, breaking the contact of his mouth with your pussy. He pushed back somewhat, but your insistence won out, and he eventually sat back on his haunches, chest heaving slightly with exertion and desire. 

“Well done, my king. I wonder, is it time to reward your obedience yet? Or should we play a bit longer?” Thranduil grimaced at the prospect of enduring more time without being given free reign to touch you and fuck you. You smirked, rising up from the bed on slightly quaking legs. 

“Lie down.” Thranduil hesitated briefly until he caught up with your plans. With an eager grin, he rose from the floor and got on the bed, lying on his back. His cock lay against his stomach, its veins engorged, a small drip of precum oozing from its head. You felt yourself clench automatically at the sight of him, your core desperate to feel his girth inside you, stretching you. 

You straddled him on the bed, deliberately letting your hair fall around your face and tickle his neck and shoulders. You hovered your pussy a hair’s width above his cock, letting the heat from your center dance across his member. He felt it too, because he jerked automatically at the faintest hint of contact. His cock twitched eagerly, barely grazing the moisture of your center. He hissed loudly, his hands balled into fists as he resisted the urge to grab you.

“Your eyes stay closed and your hands stay at your side,” you reminded him. He nodded, not bothering to answer you at this point. You weren’t sure if he could speak; he was straining not to break the rules and grab your hips to drive himself shaft deep into you. 

You sank slowly, not taking him into you, but letting your folds barely envelope his cock as you dragged your pussy up and down the length of his shaft, coating him in your juices. He groaned, the sound deep and feral. “You are cruel,” he protested darkly, bringing a fist up to his face so he could bite down on his knuckles. You laughed, thoroughly enjoying seeing him so utterly undone by the lightest touch. You sat back, your weight balancing on your knees, freeing your hands to come to your hardened nipples, rolling them between your fingers. The sensation caused you to gasp. Beneath you, Thranduil thrashed at the noise, a desperate growl emanating from his chest. 

“Stay still, my lord,” you told him, one hand reaching underneath you to grab the base of his member, holding it upright until he was positioned at your entrance. He froze, chest heaving in exertion. You let your hips sink slightly, the head of his cock beginning to penetrate your core. Your pussy trembled, aftershocks from your previous orgasms mixing with the shudders of more to come. 

Beneath you, Thranduil’s head was turned, his eyes glued to the wall. His face was contorted in focus and restraint, his brows knitted and his lips pursed. You reached down and cupped his cheek with your palm, gently but firmly turning his face towards you. “Look at me.”

Thranduil obeyed, his winter blue eyes locking with yours instantly. His gaze burned with an intensity you’d rarely seen from your husband. The neediness on his face matched yours, and it was almost enough to make you want to sink onto him. Just a little more play, you told yourself. 

“Tell me you want me,” you ordered. Thranduil groaned impatiently. 

“My queen, you cannot be ser-”

The slap surprised him. You struck him - not enough to damage, but enough to get his attention - squarely on the cheek. Without giving him time to recover, you grabbed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, jerking his head back squarely to face you. His eyes were wide with surprise, but beneath that shock you saw that the contact had stoked the flames of desire, just as you’d intended. 

“I said, tell me you want me.” 

“I want you,” he uttered breathlessly. You slapped him again, this time harder. His cheek reddened, but he smirked wickedly before bringing his eyes back to meet yours. You let yourself take him deeper, the head of his cock now entirely embedded in your pussy, your walls tightening around it. You gasped at the stretch, another orgasm beginning to tighten your core.

“Again.” Your lust for dominance was so thick it felt like honeyed wine in your veins. 

“I want you, my queen.” Thranduil’s voice was stronger this time, more insistent. “I want you so desperately I can’t think straight-” he paused to lift his head off the mattress, mouth connecting with one of your nipples. He nipped and sucked on it, quickly and roughly. You cried out, your head tossing back, composure and restraint crumbling. His mouth released your nipple to move to the other breast. “-I want you to scream for me-” Another rough nip dragged a cry of pleasure from your throat. He was gaining control over you, your body reacting to his touch and his words. And he knew it. His hands ran down your back until they locked over your hips, grabbing you so tightly you knew you’d have bruises there the next morning. “-I want you to cry out my name until your throat is raw.” Holding your hips exactly where they were, he drove himself with a hard jerk upwards until you felt his cock bottom out inside you. Your legs quivered, the sudden sensation of fullness extinguishing all semblance of control you had. You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “-I want you to remember-” another hard thrust, your pussy trembling as you began to cum, crying out his name “-that you may command me-” you were coming undone, words turning to gibberish, legs trembling as your mind went white “-whenever you want-” your legs buckled, your weight coming down on top of him “-but I fucking own this pussy.” 

He stopped talking, his focus exclusively on driving himself up inside you, again and again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything except let him take you. He relentlessly pumped his cock in and out of your core, your pussy squirting each time he almost withdrew from your slit, the sensation driving him mad with lust. He roared with pleasure as he pounded, once, twice more, the third time slamming himself as deep as possible into you and stilling. His roaring turned to mewling. Somewhere in the haze of your own fucked out pleasure you became aware that his cock was pulsating as he emptied inside you. You felt boneless, entirely dependent on his arms to hold you up, his hands gripping your hips with delicious intensity. He gasped as the pulsing in your center slowed, his face smoothing from white-hot climax to the warmth of a hard come-down. He let you collapse on top of him, both of you sick with sweat and your wetness. Your breaths synced and slowly, inch by inch, you both began to soften. 

After a few moments, you felt his strong arms wrap around you. You lifted yourself off his still-twitching penis and lay on the bed beside him, your body pressed against his as you lay your head on his shoulder. From this angle, you could hear his heart beating against his ribs, and you counted each beat as the heaving of his chest gradually diminished. He turned his head, pressing a kiss into your hairline. He chuckled slightly. 

“You truly are wicked,” he murmured appreciatively. You lifted your head, feeling drunk from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and gave him a lopsided grin. 

“You don’t seem to mind, my king,” you shot back. He shook his head fervently.

“Quite the contrary,” he replied. After a few moments of silence, he added, “I think we should have that bard to court more often.” 

You only pretended to be offended as you playfully smacked his shoulder. He smiled, a dazzling sight, before he caught your head gently and connected your mouths for a deep kiss. Before you knew what was happening, you felt him roll you onto your back, his weight coming to press down on your body, his cock already beginning to stiffen again as his mouth set to work on the line of your throat. You were about to protest, unsure if you’d be able to handle any more of him, but he caught your mouth with his palm. He looked up from where he was nibbling on your earlobe, his eyes simmering with an emotion you could only describe as eagerness. 

“My turn.”