#there’s no need to take that tone with me

[pennjammin]

geeked up.

you fucked around and snuck him an aphrodisiac, so now all you’ve got to do is survive until the effects wear off!

content: smut, established relationships, bondage, edging, overstim, degrading, oral sèx, public sèx, exhibitionism, drüg/alcohol use, afab!reader, gn!reader on nanami, spit kink, masochism

incl pairings: kento, toji, satoru, suguru

word count. 8.3k

soundtrack 🌧️💿: sativa ft. swae lee

COCK THAT TEA / NANAMI.

A cup of hot tea. That's all Nanami had requested.

The lemon stimulant you’d mixed into the drink had made him wrap up his work early, clamoring downstairs, his eyes glassy with desire.

"Darling," he breathes out, staring at the floor, holding the cup in his shaky hand. "Are you busy?”

He’s so polite about it. At first.

“What ever is the matter, Ken?” you question, running your cleaning rag in slow circles over the dining room table, standing on your toes as you stretch across the surface. “I’m trying to clean.”

He nearly growls, eyes shutting and reopening with frustration. His fingers flutter at his side like butterfly wings and he takes a step towards you.

“I need to be inside of you,” he blurts, looking momentarily embarrassed before his face darkens, then he looks up at you with viper eyes.

“Right now?” you fake your surprise, walking around the table to stand in front of him. “But the dining room is so filthy…” You watch as his nostrils flare; he’s clearly taking in your scent.

“You know I would never force you,” he grits out, voice choked. “But also - mmh - p-pretty please?”

His arms come up, either side of you, and he moves to pin your body between himself and the table. He releases the teacup on the table and his fingertips grip onto the surface so harshly that his nails make tiny imperfections in the wood.

“My God, are you feeling alright?” you stall, pressing the back of your hand to his flushed forehead. “You look unwell.”

“I feel unwell, baby,” he says, tone serious and apologetic. “I feel like I might die if I can’t put my cock in you. That is unreasonable.”

Even as he says the words, it’s clear in his eyes that he doesn’t care how irrational it is. He wants to act on his urges so badly.

You rest your hand over the painful lump in his pants. “Is that so?”

“No, please don’t,” he breathes. “D-Don’t wanna lose my control…”

“You won’t,” you purr, slipping his zipper down. “You’re gonna be good and let me take care of you for once, ‘kay?”

His shoulders visibly slump a bit as the pressure from his hard cock is released by his unzipped pants. You take it a step further and dip your fingernails underneath the waistband of his Calvin’s, softly scratching over the blond happy trail.

“No, no,” Nanami’s head falls onto your shoulder, full body shudders coming out of him.

“I’m just trying to help, Ken,” you quip, rolling your eyes, moving to pull your hand out; but in the same beat his large hand clamps around your wrist and shoves it down deeper.

He jerks forward against you, a whine for help coming out of his mouth and landing breathily in your ear canal. You try not to shudder yourself, wanting to maintain the facade that you’re in control.

“Please, just take it out,” he begs.

How could you deny him? Your usually composed, control-taking husband is begging you for something. It breaks your heart as much as it nearly makes you cream your undies.

"Alright," you say calmly, clamping your fist around his shaft, squeezing harshly as you remove it from its barrier.

Nanami whispers gratefully in your ear - over and over - until it fades into moans, because of you sliding the pad of your thumb over his oh-so sensitive cockhead, spreading his precum all over the throbbing skin.

You have his heartbeat in your palm. You feel it racing faster with each stroke of your finger. The organ jerks in response and so does Nanami.

His hips begin to mindly grind back and forth, his torso rubbing yours, hardening your nipples and exposing your arousal.

You let his length slide in and out of your fist, and his hands grip onto your breasts like they can save him from ruin. His hair has fallen down around his head, sweat ruining his gelled style. He looks so desperate.

You'd only wanted to see if the aphrodisiac would remove some of his patience. He's always so kind, slow, gentle. You were writhing to see him lose control, have his way with you, rough you up. You’d hardly expected it to turn him this submissive and needy.

Fwip! Fwip! The sound of your top disappearing makes you gasp. You’d gotten too lost in thought and allowed him to get your shirt off, leaving you in just underwear.

Your thighs turn in on themselves, but they’re no match for his strength. It’s as if you'd let a feral panther out of its cage, his nails clawing at the waistband, threatening to shred it as his hips pick up speed.

On a whim, you release his shaft and put your palm to his tip, running it over the shiny pink skin. Nanami’s neck nearly snaps back. You rotate your palm over the tip and rip! his iron grip accidentally tears your underwear off.

He doesn’t notice, as he maintains his grip on the fabric with his eyes closed. He freezes in place as you violate his sensitive tip and the underside.

“Agh - shit, shit, nonono…” Nanami spits out.

Until finally he’s had enough.

In exactly three movements, he has your spine curved painfully against his torso, hand clasping a handful of your hair and pulling it against his chest, your shredded undies fallen somewhere on the floor. His groans in your ear are wet and raunchy, coming from the depths of his throat.

His cock pushes through your soaking ring of muscle, sliding through the ridges until it rams into your cervix. He has no regard for your pain level, punishing you even as tears brim your eyes. His hand cracks harshly on your asscheek, before scratching the sensitive skin and making you scream.

"My love, you feel so fucking good.” The lewd words leave his lips in an uncharacteristic way.

You want to roll your hips in time with his but he releases your hair and brings his hand around to cup your neck - faltering you as he thrusts deeper, the painfully solid cock violating your walls. If not for your pussy flooding the veiny organ, your entrance would be raw from the harsh stroking and lack of regard for your pleasure.

With a release of your throat, Nanami's hand moves to the back of your head and forces it down against the table, cheek pressed to the wood. You look at the abandoned drink at the other end. Now you’re watching as the cold liquid ripples through the teacup with each rhythmic thrust of your husband splitting you from hole to hole.

“F-Fuck, Ken, take it easy,” you whine, knowing it’s a full fib.

You want him deeper than he already is, cock bottomed out, heavy balls sticking to your clit each time he goes all the way in. Your internal organs feel like they’re being bent out of shape, pressure in your belly a bit painful, but mostly exhilarating.

“I-I can’t, baby,” Nanami grunts from above. “Your pussy has me so out of control.”

You decide to admit, in a sultry moment of regret what you’d done. Your pussy can’t take all the credit for making him this feral, can it? Nanami doesn’t respond much, but his cock begins to take it out on you.

His veins pop from his wrists as he pushes your head further into the wood, cheek squishing in on itself, muffling your sobs.

He moans in response to his new rhythm, grunting your name over and over, mixed with naughty minx, take me, feel good?, mhmm.

He hikes his hips at an upward angle and the new spot he's hitting is foul, causing you to scream so loud the noise reverberates off of the walls.

You put a leg up, knee to the edge of the table for stability. Your arms stretch across the surface and you feel drool trickle out of your mouth - your mind so fucked out that you can't even bring yourself to moan.

"Where's my spouse?" Nanami questions rhetorically, shoving a deep thrust in you while cracking his palm on your stinging asscheek. "Why can't I hear them?"

You swallow, trying to stop some of the drool, attempting to answer him but all that comes out is a guttural cry for mercy.

Nanami pretends not to hear it, and runs his nails along your pretty arched back.

His fingers yank your head in the direction of his old cup, “Be sure to look at what got you into this ordeal, dear. Stimulants in my tea, really?”

Your moans return when you feel the pool of fire deep within your belly, and Nanami feels you fluttering your walls around him in an attempt to fight off the orgasm. But he recognizes your moans all too well, so he drills his hips harder to push it out of you.

"Ken! No!" you cry, trying to hold it off, but just before you release he's spilling his own hot spurts into you.

You feel each rope hit the opening to your cervix and your cunt sends you into the harshest orgasm you've had your entire marriage; your one leg that remained on the floor giving out, leaving you to dangle on the edge of the table.

But Nanami's strokes show no sign of slowing down. You feel the veins in his cock drumming against your slick ridges, and his length remains solid.

“Mm, so much wetter now,” he notes, his cum nearly sticking his balls to to your clit every time he shoves his groin against your ass.

The noise that comes from your cum mixing together as lubricant is so nasty; it makes your toes curl as you lay on your stomach and continue to take the pain.

You’ll spend the rest of the evening begging him for mercy and not receiving it. When you think he’s finally done, he carryies you upstairs, telling you that he’s going to give you a massage to calm your strained legs.

But when you end up on your side as Nanami stuffs you full of kids for the sixth or seventh time, you realize the massage had been part of his plan, and he gives no hint that he’s near finished with you.

KNOTTY BOY / TOJI.

Toji had arrived home from work right on schedule. You'd been in the middle of preparing breakfast for dinner, the kitchen smelling of bacon grease and syrup.

He'd come in and given you a quick kiss, then disappeared to the back of the apartment to shower.

While he was gone, you'd finished cooking, and loaded his plate up with sausage, bacon, and eggs. Then, you plopped a tower of pancakes in the leftover space. This is when you ripped open a packet of honey from the gas station. You'd seen it on the counter one day whilst getting snacks and, you were curious to see if the rumors were true.

You’d felt a twinge of guilt as you drizzled the honey all over his pancakes and then hid your naughty work by covering it with maple syrup. It almost felt like drugging him, but you knew it wasn’t, and the worst that’ll happen is consensual rounds of sex. You’d disposed of the empty wrapper in the trash just in time.

Toji comes back from his shower with damp hair and oily skin, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts that cling low on his v-line. Your chest heats in response, but you maintain an innocent smile as you pad over to him with his dinner.

He sits down at the kitchen table, ready to dive into your delicious meal with a thankful grunt.

"Not hungry?" he questions, noticing that you remain standing behind him, rubbing some of the tension from his shoulders.

"I had a heavy lunch," you lie. "How was work?"

Toji pokes his fork into a sausage link before bringing it to his mouth, "Hot. Annoying. Lil' bitch Shiu was moaning about his sunburn all day."

You giggle, observing the darker shade on Toji's skin from where he has the privilege of tanning instead of frying in the sun. He's glowing like a cinnamon roll coated in sweet icing, and you want to drag your tongue over his moisturized torso.

"Well, least you're home now," you kiss his cheek. "I missed you. I hate when you have to work such long shifts."

He sighs. "Gotta do what I gotta do, puss. Have ta'make sure you have everything you want."

"That so?" you coo. "There’s something I want right now."

Toji reaches for the cup of orange juice you'd poured for him, thick eyebrow raised, “Spit it out.”

"Have you ever considered letting me tie you up? You know, 'stead of the other way around?" The words are out before you can stop them, and you're immediately writhing in regret when there's silence for several moments.

Toji takes a sip of the juice, and then turns to face you. "Needy brat, you thinkin' about tying me up while I'm tryin'a eat?"

You tap your fingers on his traps, trying to build a shovel to dig yourself out of this hole. "Actually, I've been thinking about it all day," you admit. "I was just worried you might be too tired for… you know."

His fork pokes into the pancake stack. You’re overcome with a sense of urgency. The minute he ingests the honey, the timer begins.

Toji chuckles and tilts his head awkwardly, rolling his neck. "You know I would never let you go to bed without a couple of nuts, ma." He takes a big bite of the cakes. "Didn't expect that, though.”

"O-Only if you want, of course," you throw out quickly, suddenly more nervous.

Toji swallows and turns to wrap an arm around you, pulling you flush against his body as he sticks his fork back into his food. "If you're gonna be in control, ya can't backtrack. Gotta stand on business.”

You swallow, "Well, unlike you, I need your compliance because I can't just throw you around like you weigh nothing."

Toji's body shakes against you as he takes another bite of pancake. You know the effects take a bit to kick in, but you aren't sure how much time you have left now.

"Would like to see you try to throw me around, though,” he says before adding, “do ya even know how to tie a knot, lil’ girl?”

"Of course," you say, offended. "I've watched you plenty of times."

"Usually while you're already on your second orgasm and cockdrunk, but..." he shrugs, "we'll see.”

You part from him, allowing him to finish his dinner as you collect the ropes from the closet. You untangle them as you wait. You're buzzing with excitement, blood pumping through your ears and your cunt, as you can already imagine his large torso being pierced with puffy red marks from the ropes digging into his baby-soft skin.

You're just about ready to drag him away from the kitchen by his ears when Toji finally comes into the room, sucking leftover syrup off of his thumb, eyeballing you.

"Mm, did you do something different to the pancakes, puss?" he questions. "Might be a new favorite of mine."

You smile and shrug. "Nope, don't think so." 

He buys it, or if he doesn't, he doesn't press the topic further. Instead his eyes travel over the wooden chair in the center of your bedroom.

“Welp, let the games begin,” he says, holding out his arms as he releases himself to be at your mercy.

Around ten minutes later, his sits with his arms pinned behind his back. His torso is attached to the back of the chair while his ankles are bound to the legs.

“Well done,” Toji grunts, attempting to tug on the ropes and being unsuccessful in loosening the knots. “My lil’ brat does pay attention.”

You lean over him, putting your hands on his shoulders. His cock has definitely hardened by now, sitting pretty in his lap as you’d requested he take his shorts off before being tied up.

You watch as his thighs flex and his cock jerks up, tip glistening under the warm lighting in your bedroom.

“Agh, fuck,” he spits. “Show me what you got, dollface.”

You continue to stand, fingers linked together in front of you, implying you have no intention of touching him. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently.

“Brat, don’t piss me off,” he grunts, a vein in his neck throbbing as he tilts his neck, fighting harder against his restraints now.

You giggle innocently and bring your knee up to the meeting of his thighs, ghosting it over his light brown tip. “You doing okay there?”

His eyes flutter closed, beads of sweat appearing on his brow line just under his hair. “Fuck. Stop doing that shit.”

“Or what?” you taunt, knowing he’s trapped.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” he threatens, but he can’t help but let out a delicious grunt when you glide your knee up his wanton shaft - back down again.

“What is it you always call me?” you tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “Needy whore.”

“Fuck you,” he grits, fists balled up behind him. You see his fingers attempting to reach the bottom of the knot but to no avail. He has no way out of this and he knows it. You’re watching the aphrodisiac kick into his system in real time.

His pupils expand when he looks up at you. His cheeks are slightly pink, and his bottom lip is underneath his teeth.

“Okay, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes. You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it slowly past your stomach, then over your chest. You shake your tits in his face, and he leans forward, snapping his teeth, like a shark threatening to take a chomp out of your flesh.

“Quit playing with me, Y/N,” he says sharply. “I’mma fuck you up. Bruise your little uterus so bad.”

“Would love to see you try,” you crack, pulling the fabric off your head and shaking your hair free. You know just how bad your hair turns him on, how much he enjoys nearly ripping it from your scalp as he delivers painful backshots.

He jerks against the chair, causing you to jump a little. You turn around and sit on his lap.

Toji’s entire body stiffens. “God, why is my shit so sensitive?” The sentence comes out breathy, almost whiny. Toji never allows himself to switch, but you feel you may have unlocked the ten percent of him that likes to be submissive.

“What did you do?” he goes on. “You did something to me - fuck.”

And the moment you'd come clean, you were already bouncing deliciously on his cock, watching as he squirmed against his restraints and cussed in your ear.

"You're fuckin' dead," he keeps saying, before giving up and breaking into a pathetic little, "fu-uck. Mmh, yeah, ride me baby. Gonna fill you up."

"No you're not," you say, noting how his cock begins to twitch and using your knees to lift yourself up and slide it out of you, leaving your cunt pulsing with ache.

"What the fuck - get back here," he growls. His arms pull against the ropes, and you fear at any moment they're going to pop.

"This is payback, Toji." You look at your nails and then sit yourself back down, facing him with your cunt touching his cock but not allowing him the pleasure of being inside of it. "All those times you overstimulate me, or edge me.”

You lean forward and kiss him on the nape of his neck. He howls, jerking his cock up against you for even the slightest bit of pleasure.

You're just about to drag your teeth across the prominent vein in his neck when a terrifying shred! sound enters the air.

You sit up straight and stare down at Toji in horror, but his face has twisted into a sinister, knowing smile.

"You fucked up, you know that?" he questions, and before you can scramble off of his lap, his arms are around your body, capturing you against his chest.

The next few seconds are a blur. Before you can blink or breathe, the tip of Toji’s cock feels like it’s inside your intestines, your back against your bedroom door as he fucks you against it.

“A honey packet like I’m some booty call?” Toji gripes, drilling his hips into you so mean, that all you can do is slap your hands on his back for mercy. “‘Bout to turn your pussy inside out, demon brat.”

“Toji! Please,” you cry, trying to spread your legs on either side of his hips to make it feel like he isn’t going so deep, but his cockhead is so slick and fat that it’s threatening to crack you open.

His body being covered in oil is not working to your advantage. Your hands are sliding off of him, until you finally give up and take your hands in his hair, and he increases his speed because of it.

“I oughta chain you to the bed with a vibrator on your clit,” he threatens. “Since you wanna play with me. Fuck. So fucking creamy, ma.” His head falls to stare at your cunt as his cock drills in and out of it, white substance layering on his groin and between your folds.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry,” you whine into his ear, “o-ooh. Shit.”

“‘Sorry baby,’” Toji mocks. “Yeah. ‘M sorry too. Sorry that you ain’t gonna be able to walk for a few days. Hold on tight, brat.”

SHOOT MY STEAM / GETO.

"Baby, can you pass me my bottle?"

The sentence you've been waiting to hear for about thirty minutes now.

You're at the gym with your boyfriend. You've been resting on the bench, watching him do his sets, waiting for him to ask for his water.

Suguru knows you always mix in his electrolyte packets for him, only this time, you'd found a convenient aphrodisiac powder to put inside instead. You wanted to see just how hot and sweaty he could really get with it flowing through his veins while he trained.

Only one issue with that: you’d accidentally forgotten about putting it in there, so you’d taken a fat swig a while back and now you’re paying for it as you sit and watch him.

"C'mon, monk, back on your feet," he says, taking a deep breath after chugging some of his water. He places it next to you and then reaches his hands out to help you stand. "'M gonna lose motivation if you're not up with me."

You swallow thickly and force a smile, before taking his hands and rising back up to follow him to the weights. Your body is tingling, cunt ripe with desire.

You decide to do some lunges to distract yourself while Suguru works on the lat pulldown, and you stare with heat in your chest as his back muscles flex under the cut-off sleeves of his shirt.

You think about your nails sliding over the sweaty skin to incite dangerous growls from your boyfriend, making him fall apart as he pumps you full of dick. Your head spins.

You attempt to shake the thoughts away and continue lunging until he finishes his pulldowns. When he stands, an erection is painfully obvious in his shorts.

He walks over to you, voice low. "Well, I guess this means I'm doing good," he comments, pointing to his new friend, and then gesturing to you. "It's also probably because your legs are looking good, angel. Damn."

You giggle and walk to drop off the weights. "Are you gonna be able to keep working out with... that?" You’re mostly asking for yourself, because if you’re forced to sit here and watch him workout with a boner, you may combust.

Suguru glances at himself in the mirror, rolling his shoulder blades. "It'll go away in a second. It's just all the blood pumping through me."

You blink. Your self control is dwindling but you try to redirect your focus. "'Kay, well I'll be over here starting some squats."

Suguru nods and pulls you in for a sweaty kiss, "Alright, love you."

God, you wish he hadn’t done that. Now everywhere his body touched you feels like a thousand needles. You want to grab him the minute he attempts to pull away, but you’re frozen in place, the fuzzy memory of his sweaty lips on yours making your panties damper.

And the next twenty minutes are history. You watch as Suguru loses more and more of his focus, his painful erection never coming close to dying. He slows down in his workouts, his eyes lingering on you much longer than before. You even watch him blink harshly, attempts running futile at pushing away his feelings. Then at last, he comes to collect you.

Now, you know it's a little unsanitary to be laid out over the sauna bench, Suguru leaning over you as steam and sweat drip from his locks.

You also don't care. The lust in his eyes, the furrow in his brow from where he doesn't understand why he couldn't wait to get home to do this is making your pussy throb around him.

"Fuck me," Suguru’s eyes roll back as he brings one of your slippery legs over his chiseled hip, sides of his cock gliding against your internal ridges. “Feels too fucking good, monk.”

All you can do is whine in response, as the subtle curve in Suguru’s dick causes it to poke the squishy roof of your tunnel. Your arms are trying to hold onto him, but with the steam, the two of you are just sweaty, wet bodies gliding against each other.

His abs rub over your belly and sensitive nipples, and he takes in the way each grind makes you gasp a little harder than before.

"F-fuck, Suguru," you whimper.

"Hah - ngh," he growls in your ear. "Don't say my name like that."

"S-Suguru," you repeat, feeling his nails attempt to dig into your skin before his fingers slide over your wet hips. "Wanna feel your cum."

He shakes his head, slinging water all over your face until you’re envisioning it being his warm semen instead. "N-No, feels too good, don't wanna cum yet."

You continue pushing him. "Cum for me, please?"

"No," Suguru spits, the end coming out breathy as he tries to compose himself.

"Please fill me up," you keep going, knowing that he won't be able to even if he tries.

"Baby," Suguru whines pathetically, but his strokes have noticeably gotten sloppier, needier. "Y-You have to stop."

You shake your head defiantly, before you crash your sweaty lips onto his. You moan against his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth, piercing pressure onto it. His lips part as he continues slipping in and out of you.

Your bodies roll to the side on the sauna bench and continue going at it.

“Can’t get enough,” he mumbles against your mouth. “So wet for me, angel.”

It’s not long before you’re practically shoving him off of you, pussy sore and swollen. But he keeps holding you back onto his cock, making sure you nut on him as many times as he is able to drag it out of you.

Then, after concerns about your time spent in the sauna, you wrap it up - even though Suguru still hasn’t cum himself. But that doesn’t remain the case for long.

You find yourself pressed against the wet shower wall not even five minutes later, only a curtain hiding the two of you from the rest of the people in the bathroom. Suguru keeps his hand clamped over your mouth, whispering in your ear how good girls keep quiet, while making it impossible for you to obey.

And when he finally releases his thick cum all over your asscheek, watching as it instantly washes away under the hot water, he’s sticking it back in just a few seconds later.

Your brain is mushed with ecstasy from the powder, so you hardly notice that you’ve cum on his cock twice already, still ready for more.

GUMMY THROAT / GOJO.

“Want a hit?”

Shoko coughs and turns her wrist to hold her blunt out to you. You sit beside her on the couch and shake your head, holding up the bag in your hand.

“I’m good,” you grin. Inside the bag is edible gummies, which you’ve taken two of, and can already feel your toes stretching.

Shoko nods in understanding and passes it to someone else, leaning back against the couch with her eyelids laying low.

You check your pockets for your other bag, which has libido gummy bears, not edibles. This is the bag you’d handed to Gojo, watching as he’d devoured three obliviously.

“Satoru, you know you shouldn’t have eaten that many,” you’d scolded, trying to play along.

“Relax, my tolerance is higher than yours,” he’d quipped sassily.

But now that Shoko’s party has started to slow down, people disappearing in spurts, others sitting in corners or on the floor because they’re stuck, you and Gojo are having a staring contest - and you know what it means.

His eyes are wide and his fingers are restless. He’s sitting next to Suguru, who’s naively engaged in conversation with a pretty ginger. You’re pretending to ignore Gojo’s clear body language that says he wants to leave so that he can scramble your brains.

You giggle as your head falls on Shoko’s shoulder. Your body feels like it’s lifting off of the couch as the THC begins to flood through your bloodstream. All you can do is grip onto your skirt as if it’ll ground you.

Gojo stands from where he sits and struts over to you, his blue eyes appearing to glow with madness. “Y/N, get up,” he instructs, his voice commanding and unlike him.

“No,” you huff, nuzzling further into Shoko.

“Have it your way.” He reaches down and grabs your wrist, yanking you off of the cushions, and you can distantly hear Shoko laughing as Gojo puts his hand under your thighs and lifts you into his arms.

“Hey-!” you protest as you’re now being hauled princess style, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin with just how harshly he’s holding you.

“It’s way late,” he says. “And you’re high as hell. We need to go.”

“You’re being extra,” you scold, bopping your finger on his nose before letting yourself go limp against him. “Y’sure this is about it being late?”

“No, it isn’t,” he admits. “Watching you sit there and play with your skirt is making me lose my damn mind.”

“But I was hanging out with Shoko,” you pout, and realize he is not taking you towards any exits at all. He’s walking you to the back of the house, near the laundry room. “Gojo, what are you-?”

“I need your throat,” he blurts suddenly, glaring down at you with a compulsory twinkling in his eye. “Happy now? That’s what this is about. Need it so fucking bad.”

You giggle. The air feels crisp and your mind is so free. The room spins and you still feel like you’re floating.

“Okay, but be warned that I have cotton mouth,” you hold up a finger matter-of-factly. “May be a bit dry.”

He reaches the laundry room and pushes the curtain aside. If you were more sober, you’d realize how incredibly risky he’s being, but since you aren’t, you don’t care.

He puts you down in front of the washer, and wraps his fingers around your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing your mouth to open. In the same beat, he tuahs a mean glob of spit in your mouth.

“There,” he whispers. “That should help. Now I need you on your knees.”

He uses his grip on your face to push your head down until your knees collapse and you land on them. He releases you and you look up at him expectantly.

“All this for some head?” you taunt, placing your palms on his thighs. “Not that serious.”

“Yes it is,” he whines, “might die if I can’t shove my cock between those pretty lips.”

He leans down and swipes his thumb across your mouth, flicking your bottom lip and making your eyes flutter. You’re looking at him but not quite seeing him, as the gummies in your system have you spaced out. Your limbs feel like they’re stretching. You dig your nails into Gojo’s pants and he responds with an unearthly growl.

Your face is shadowed immediately, and upon focusing your eyes, you realize there's a fat, peachy cock looming over your face.

You gasp, watching as it comes down and taps you on the nose, fleshy and dripping in precum.

“Satoru-!” is all you can manage to say, as his tip grazes your cheek.

“Open up,” he instructs, and you part your lips slowly, expecting him to shove himself inside but instead he leans forward and sends another drop of saliva down your throat. “Just making sure it’s wet enough.”

“Y- mmh,” you're cut off, because Gojo has rammed the tip of his cock between your lips.

You part your teeth and wrap your tongue on the underside instinctually, eyes fluttering closed as you take in his salty taste.

"Speak up," he grunts, “you were being so bratty a minute ago.”

"Ngh - no," you gargle around his girth, saliva filling your mouth and making it hard to breath, pouring out of the sides of your cheeks and coating his shaft.

"Look at you, can't even take all of it," he taunts, pushing his hips deeper so that the tip begins to push down your throat, making you gag, your mouth becoming wetter.

Your eyes are hardly staying open. With your brain being so mellow, all that you can see or feel or taste is Gojo’s cock as it pumps in and out of your throat, bulging through your neck.

“So gummy,” Gojo purrs, putting his hands on the edge of the washing machine behind you. “Throat fits me so perfect, baby, y’know that?”

You can’t respond but the moaning attempt you make around his cock pulls a grunt from him. You know he’s being incredibly loud and obvious, but you can hardly scold him. The most you can do is crack your palms on his thighs, leaving tiny hand-shaped prints on the smooth skin.

“Hngh - what was that for?” he scolds before murmuring, “do it again.”

You smack his legs again and keep your eyes closed. You’re salivating all over his length and it drips down your chin, which is being abused by his heavy sac in repeated claps.

“Quiet,” you moan around his cock, as he’s letting out the most pathetic, desperate moans while you drive your mouth down to the base.

“N-No,” he grumbles, lifting his shirt up, before taking it between his teeth. You’re met face to face his with his perfect abdomen, glistening in droplets of sweat. “You suck me up so good, princess.”

Your eyes roll in pleasure at the name, eyes watering, mouth no longer dry. You don’t care if he wants to wake up the neighborhood; you just want to hear the delicious, sultry noises.

But right when you feel his dick twitch against the sides of your cheeks, you force your mouth off and swallow down the pool of saliva in the back of your throat. Your lips are wet and puffy as you part them and stare up at him.

“Gah - baby, why?” he quarrels, gripping tightly on your head.

You answer by leaning back forward and kissing his tip, sticking out your tongue and flicking it over the head before backing up again.

His knees nearly buckle, his grip on your head tightens.

“P-please don’t,” he whimpers. “S-suck it.”

“Mm-mm,” you mouth defiantly, wrapping your lips over the tip and gently pressing your teeth down; should he try to shove it deeper, it would only hurt him.

“Ngh - ‘m too horny for this, baby,” he growls. “Was so close.”

“Too bad,” you shrug, voice muffled because of the way you’re swirling your tongue over his slick pink tip.

His head falls forward, white locks dangling over his face as he tries to fight through his unbearably high libido. Your high has started to wear off but you can tell it’s going to be a long night for Satoru.

“Alright princess, I-I’ll remember this,” he coos from above, trying to push his hips towards your face but ultimately hissing and stopping when your teeth clamp down on the meat. “Goddamnit baby, what’s gotten into you? P-Please jus’ le’me cum.”

“Maybe,” you hum, taking him out of your mouth and using your spit to stroke his cock. “How bad you want it?”

“S-so bad,” he begs. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” you question, running your thumb over his tip. “Hmm. You’re in charge of cooking dinner for a week. Deal?”

“Ah - fuck it, just please,” he whines, writhing under your touch, barely able to get his words out.

“Cum,” you say silkily, sticking your tongue to catch the salty, white ropes that waste absolutely no time shooting from his shaft.

He twitches under your grip until his high has ridden out, but you use his cum as lubricant to keep stroking his poor length.

“Okay, okay,” he whines. “I-I’m good now, agh.”

“You’re not good till I say so,” you gruff, until his hand comes under your chin harshly, and brings you to a forced standing position.

“I said I’m good, but if you think I’m not getting you back for that - you’re a stupid little thing, aren’t you?” He swipes his thumb over your cum-covered lips, and then licks it clean, before cracking you on the cheek. “Now, on your toes baby. And be quiet.”

A/N:

I’ve been trying to finish this for forever bro wtf is wrong with me

I’m fighting demons (writer’s block)

And also… I think I wanna write some Gojo fluff after #jjk271 because my baby deserves love and light good fucking bye.

all the love always!

~pennjammin

[inkdrinkerworld]

soft dom! remus calls reader a good girl just in like a very casual everyday public scenario and she’s like 😳 and he goes “u ok” and she’s like “no not rly can we go have sex now” 💀

Smut: 18+ only p in v penetration, oral (fem receiving) fingering, I’m a little rusty but I like the way this came out!

“Good girl,” Remus murmurs as you show him your graded paper and you frown. “M’proud of you.”

You’re in the living room, James and Sirius on the love seat as you sit with Remus on his recliner.

“Remus.” You grumble, body hot as his hands slip around you and adjust you in his lap.

“Yes, my love?” You rest your chin on his chest and look up at him through your lashes.

“You can’t just say that.” You whisper, Sirius and James paying you both no mind- they’re used to all this by now.

Remus laughs, lips pressed to your cheek when he calms down. “I’m sorry baby,”

You shake your head, “Can we go to the room?” Remus smirks as you wiggle a bit in his lap.

He spares a glance to Sirius and James, both of them looking comfortable and about ten minutes from sleep. Then he looks back at you, with your pupils blown wide and your near breathlessness.

“You’re incorrigible.” He murmurs, standing his his hands under your thighs- your paper long forgotten in the space you’d occupied.

“You’re dogs!” Sirius calls as you and Remus disappear, a blush taking over your face as Remus kicks your bedroom door shut.

As he lays you down, you can’t help but fidget. Remus looks down at you, his hands trailing your thighs.

“Don’t tease Remmy.” You whine chips bucking into his hands making him smirk.

“I’m not,” he shimmies your skirt and underwear to your ankles, swearing when he finds you soaked already. “Dove, this is a little embarrassing.”

You whine, sitting up on your elbows to watch as he lowers himself to his knees. Remus’ eyes go hungry the minute you part your legs, a swear leaving his lips softly before his fingers slide up your slick.

“Remus please.” You’re breathless already and it makes something more than pride and ego swell in his chest.

Remus doesn’t speed up his actions, he only takes his time in sinking a finger into you. Your hips buck a bit and he has to bite back a laugh as his other hand slings along your torso to keep you still.

“I have to get you ready, dovey. Don’t want you hurting too bad.” God your stomach tightens- you’re not sure how your reserved boyfriend has such a silver tongue but it drives you crazy.

Remus peppers kisses along your inner thigh as he fingers you, adding a second one when you let out a particularly pleased whine.

“Remus I need you.” You cry, hand over your mouth as his fingers push a little deeper, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

“You have me, baby.” He doesn’t move a bit, only doubles down his efforts and when he feels the tremble in your stomach, his lips replace his thumb.

Your fingers thread through his hair instantly, holding him in place as your elbows give out under you and your head is flung back.

“Close,” you breathe, it’s more like a harsh puff of the word but Remus hums and pushes his fingers deeper and you let go.

You bite into the heel of your palm, muffling the whine that bubbles out of you. You don’t let Remus waste any more time, pulling him away from your center and closer to your mouth.

���Easy,” he whispers against your lips, amusement colouring his tone. Remus pushes his sweatpants down, his cock springing free and his other hand guides it to your entrance.

“Please, Remmy. Please.” Your hands anchor themselves to his shoulders as he sinks in, your breath caught in your chest.

“Breathe, dove.” His lips trail a path from your jaw to your collarbones, his hips moving only a little as you adjust.

Remus’ hips snap slowly at first, a motion that has you locking your legs around his waist. “More,” you beg and he finds he can’t deny you anymore.

Your belly burns with need, your face tucked away in his neck. Soft puffs of your breath warming his skin.

“Feel so good,” Remus murmurs, kissing your cheek and pecking just by your chin as he sneaks a hand to your clit.

His movements are measured and deep and as you get closer Remus has to put a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

“I know baby, I know. Just let go f’me.” He groans, legs quivering a little as he feels the force of your orgasm against him.

You hold onto his wrist as you come, your eyes crossing and back arching off the bed as Remus works you through your high.

He doesn’t take long to finish inside you either, a few sharp thrusts and he’s there, holding your hips still as he rides out his own orgasm.

“Better?” He asks as he pulls out, kissing your chest when you mewl. You nod, reaching for Remus as he reaches into your bedside table for wipes.

“M’right here, dove. It’s gonna be cold okay?” He warns you every time and every time it makes your heart flutter.

After he’s all done cleaning you up, Remus fits you into the sweater he’d been wearing and a clean pair of panties.

“Coming to get something to eat?” He’d leave you in here by yourself if you want to, but he never really wants you alone after.

“Do we have any more of those fruit snacks? The watermelon ones?” You let Remus pick you up, hissing a little as you wrap your legs around him.

“We should, you can also have some of the leftover spring rolls and a soda.”

Sirius looks at you both in faux disgust, James asleep in his lap.

“Dogs!”

[mythicalmaven]

smut 18 with max please

Burning Rivalry - Max Verstappen

This was my first time writing for Max Verstappen, so please let me know in the comments if i wrote it a okay or not :) Really wanna know if I failed miserably on this one or not lol hahah

Masterlist ↳pairing: max verstappen x female!driver!reader ↳word count: 2.2K ↳prompts used: 18 - "fucking hell, if I knew you were this good, I would have gotten you on your knees earlier" ↳summary: When the tension between you and Max finally gets resolved after a heated and competitive Grand Prix

↳content warnings: rivals to lovers, first kiss, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), explicit sexual content, blowjob, oral sex f!receiving, sassy talk between the two of them lol, slight begging (nothing much tho), a small hint of dom!max (but also not really), sexual tension

The tension between you and Max had always been palpable, but it wasn’t just because you were two of the best racing drivers on the grid. It was the rivalry that simmered beneath the surface, the unspoken competition that pushed both of you to your limits every time you got behind the wheel. You weren’t just friends—you were rivals, constantly trying to outdo each other on the track, and the fire that rivalry stoked didn’t stop when the race was over.

You had known Max for years, your careers growing alongside each other, and though there was a mutual respect, there was also a constant challenge, a need to prove who was better. It led to banter, to teasing comments, and sometimes, to something darker, more intense—like tonight.

The race had been brutal, both of you fighting tooth and nail for the podium. Max had edged you out in the final laps, taking the victory by a hair, and though you congratulated him afterward, there was a spark in your eyes that told him the rivalry was far from over.

But now, as you stood in Max’s driver’s room after the race, that competitive fire had taken on a new form. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that made your skin tingle and your pulse race. Max was leaning against the couch, his racing suit half unzipped, revealing the sweat-slicked skin underneath. His eyes were dark, filled with something that made your breath catch in your throat.

“You drove like shit today,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips as you met his gaze, challenging him.

Max raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk of his own. “Is that why I’m the one holding the trophy?” he shot back, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction.

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “Just barely. You know I’ll get you next time.”

“Is that a promise?” Max asked, his voice low and filled with a teasing edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice laced with challenge. The banter, the back-and-forth, was like foreplay, each word stoking the fire that burned between you.

Max’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with intent as he pushed off the couch and closed the distance between you in a few quick strides. He was in your space now, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent—a mixture of sweat and something uniquely him—invading your senses.

“I think you like losing to me,” Max murmured, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something more, something that made your breath hitch.

“In your dreams,” you shot back, but the words were softer now, your bravado faltering under the intensity of his gaze.

Max’s hand slipped to the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “How about I make you a deal?” he whispered, his voice rough and commanding. “You get on your knees for me, and maybe I’ll let you win next time.”

The words sent a jolt of arousal through you, your heart skipping a beat at the sheer audacity of his proposition. But you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand so easily. “Make me,” you challenged, your voice steady despite the racing of your pulse.

Max’s eyes flashed with something dangerous, something that made your knees weak. His grip tightened on your neck, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so you were forced to look up at him.

“Oh, I will,” Max promised, his voice low and filled with dark intent.

Before you could respond, Max’s lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was hard, demanding, and full of the fiery passion that always seemed to ignite between the two of you. His hands were on you, pulling you closer, holding you tight as his mouth claimed yours with a dominance that made your heart race.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as you pressed your body against his, needing more, needing everything he was offering. The rivalry, the tension, the years of unspoken desire—it all culminated in this moment, in the heat of his body against yours, in the way his lips moved over yours with a hunger that matched your own.

Max’s hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he guided you backward, pressing you against the wall. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving marks that you knew would linger long after tonight.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Max muttered against your skin, his voice rough with need as his hands slipped under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head.

“Good,” you shot back, your voice breathless as you helped him strip you of your clothing, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. “Maybe now you know how I feel.”

Max’s eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you, his hands tracing the curves of your body, making you shiver under his touch. “On your knees,” he commanded, his voice rough and filled with authority.

But you weren’t about to give in that easily. “Make me,” you repeated, your eyes locking with his, challenging him to take what he wanted.

Max’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flashing with a mixture of amusement and arousal. “You’re going to regret that,” he warned, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer.

“Try me,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

Max didn’t need any more encouragement. He pushed you down onto the couch, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you again, his hands sliding down your body, touching, caressing, teasing. You could feel the heat of his arousal against your thigh, the hardness of him making your own desire flare even hotter.

His hands found your thighs, spreading them apart as he knelt between them, his eyes locked on yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “You’re going to beg for me,” Max promised, his voice low and filled with dark intent.

You shivered at his words, your breath hitching as his mouth moved higher, teasing you with soft, feather-light kisses that made your body tremble with anticipation. You tried to hold on to your bravado, but the way he was touching you, the way his tongue flicked against your skin, was making it impossible to think, let alone resist.

Max’s hand slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing against your wetness, making you gasp. He smirked at your reaction, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he continued to tease you, his touch light, almost maddeningly so.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me,” Max murmured, his voice rough with desire as he pressed a finger inside you, making you moan at the sensation.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sounds that threatened to escape, but Max wasn’t having it. He added another finger, curling them inside you, his thumb brushing against your clit in a way that made you see stars.

“Let me hear you,” Max demanded, his voice a low growl as he worked you with expert precision, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips, your body arching into his touch as the pleasure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you were trembling with need.

“Max, please,” you gasped, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Max’s eyes gleamed with triumph, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit as he pushed you to the brink. “That’s it,” Max encouraged, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Let go for me.”

And you did, your body convulsing with pleasure as you came apart in his hands, your moans filling the room as the orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense sensation leaving you trembling and breathless.

When you finally came down from the high, Max was there, his lips on yours, kissing you deeply, passionately, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark with desire.

“Now, on your knees,” Max commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

This time, you didn’t hesitate. You slid off the couch, dropping to your knees in front of him, your hands reaching out to free him from the confines of his racing suit. Max’s breath hitched as you took him in your hands, your touch sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze as you leaned in, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock in a soft, teasing kiss that made him groan with need. “You’re going to love this,” you promised, your voice a low, sultry whisper.

Max’s hand tangled in your hair, his eyes dark with anticipation as he watched you. “Show me,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You didn’t need any more encouragement. You took him into your mouth, your lips closing around him as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, teasing him, driving him insane with every flick, every stroke.

Max’s grip on your hair tightened, his hips thrusting forward as he fucked your mouth, the pleasure building inside him with every movement.

“Fucking hell,” Max groaned, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill of satisfaction through you. “If I knew you were this good, I would have gotten you on your knees earlier.”

The words only spurred you on, fueling the fire of desire burning inside you. You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked harder, your tongue continuing its relentless assault on him. The sounds he made—those low, guttural moans—only made you want to give him more, to push him further toward the edge.

Max’s hips began to move more urgently, his hand guiding your head as he thrust into your mouth, the rhythm becoming more erratic as he lost himself in the pleasure you were giving him. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his body as he neared his climax.

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him shudder, his grip on your hair tightening as he fought to hold on. But you could tell he was close, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his muscles tensing as he teetered on the brink.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” Max’s words broke off in a strangled moan as his orgasm overtook him. His hips jerked forward, and you felt the first hot spurt hit the back of your throat. You didn’t slow down, working him through his release, swallowing every drop as he came, your tongue still swirling around him, milking every last bit of pleasure from his body.

Max’s grip on your hair loosened as the last waves of his climax washed over him, leaving him trembling and breathless. You pulled back slowly, your lips lingering on him for just a moment longer before releasing him, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

Max’s chest was heaving, his eyes dark and hooded as he looked down at you, his expression one of pure satisfaction mixed with something deeper, something almost primal. He reached down, his hand cupping your chin, lifting your face so that you were forced to look up at him.

“You’re incredible,” Max said, his voice rough and still thick with the aftereffects of his orgasm. There was a softness in his eyes now, a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled up at him, feeling a rush of pride at his words, your body still buzzing with the aftermath of what had just happened. “Glad you think so,” you replied, your voice laced with satisfaction and a hint of teasing.

Max chuckled, the sound low and warm as he pulled you up to your feet. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you close until your bodies were pressed together again. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that was all about savoring the moment, the heat of the earlier intensity giving way to something more intimate.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. “We should do this again,” Max murmured, his voice soft but full of promise.

“Only if you let me win next time,” you teased, your lips curving into a playful smile as you looked up at him.

Max’s eyes sparkled with amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his tone light but with an underlying seriousness that made your heart flutter.

As you both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the rivalry between you didn’t seem to matter anymore. There was something more now, something that went beyond the track, beyond the competition. And as you leaned into his embrace, you couldn’t help but think that whatever happened next, it was only the beginning of something much bigger, something that neither of you could walk away from.

Masterlist

[satorusugurugurl]

hiiiii!!! I love your work💗💗💗

Could you do giving the JJK men a honey pack lol

I keep seeing it on my fyp😂

JJK Men: It’s Just Honey—Right?

Summary: JJK Men are given a honey pack, an aphrodisiac, and a male enhancer! What could possibly go wrong?

Characters: Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna(Modern AU), AFAB!Reader

Warnings: aphrodisiac use, smut, public play, language, degradation, unprotected sex, choking, oral sex (F receiving), prone bone, multiple positions, multiple orgasms. Somno

Word Count: 8.7K

A/N: Nonnie, sorry this request took so long! It just sort of took on a mind of its own! I hope you enjoy it. I know I did! 🥴💚

Geto Suguru:

“Does stuff like this even work?” You asked as you lay on the bed in the love hotel you were stuck in.

You and Geto had gotten stuck in a typhoon, and instead of risking one of the assistant supervisor's safety, to come pick you up. You both decided staying in a hotel for the night would be best. The only problem was that the only hotel with rooms was a love hotel. Which, of course, wasn’t an issue for you both, seeing that you were dating happily but were stuck in a love hotel to see all sorts of exciting things.

A majority of the things you saw were related to sex, from sex toys, videos, and male enhancers. You have heard about more common ones like Viagra. But you had never seen one as a pack of honey before. You tossed it up in the air, catching it in your palm before tossing it back into the air, watching the foil package flip before landing back into the palm of your hand. Your boyfriend looked at you from his chair across the room with an amused smile.

“Is this your way of asking if I’ve taken enhancers in the past before?”

“What, no, never! I was just wondering if they work. I’ve never taken one before. I know they make some for women. I’m just lucky enough that I’ve never needed it.”

“Well, I can assure you that I’ve never needed to take one before myself.”

“Oh, trust me, I am well aware of that.”

Suguru placed his book down before taking a long look at you. You were nothing but booty shorts and his T-shirt. You looked good enough to eat right now, and your curiosity had piqued a curious interest of his own. No one was coming for you both until the morning, which meant you had time to kill—or better yet, time to screw each other‘s brains out.

“Hey, can I see that for a second?”

Not thinking much of your boyfriend’s request, you threw the package at him, your eyes glued to the ceiling before you heard a ripping sound. For a second, you thought maybe it had been your imagination. There was no way your boyfriend, who was very logical, ripped open the aphrodisiac honey, but there was the only way to be sure that he hadn’t done something like that; slowly, you turned your head as your boyfriend squeezed the entire package into his mouth, violet eyes watching you as he did so there was a dark, mischievous glee behind them as he stuck his tongue out, letting the honey drip all over his tongue.

You sputtered and blinked before opening and closing your mouth in disbelief. ”S-Suguru? What did you do?” Suguru’s pink tone darted out slowly, trailing over his bottom lip. Not once did his eyes leave yours.

“I’m conducting an experiment.”

“An experiment?”

“A majority of the time, stuff like this doesn’t work. It’s mostly for show, like a placebo for the brain. So we want to know if it works, so let’s put it to the test.”

It was safe to say that Suguru’s initial theory was wrong. The honey packet that he ingested was, in effect, a very real aphrodisiac. He was fine; one second, and the next, his cock was as hard as a diamond. Regret settled in his bones as he glanced back at you, who had taken notice of the tent in his pants. You didn’t say anything; instead, your actions spoke volumes. You took your shirt off by throwing it in his face, followed by your shorts and your underwear.

He swallowed, cheeks flushing, a dusty rose before he was up in on you like green on grass. The normal foreplay and preparation he always carefully took was the furthest thing on his mind. All he could focus on was how hard his cock hurt. It throbbed painfully as he tugged his pants down, freeing his erection—the tip red with rage as he spit into his hand, lubing it up.

“Need you.” he snarled, “I fucking need you.”

Suguru didn’t even give you a chance to respond to him. Because the second you opened your mouth, he had flipped you over onto your stomach while he laid flat on top of pressing the head of covk against your tight entrance. You shuddered, gripping the sheets as he slammed into you, gritting his teeth as he buried his face in the space between your shoulder blades. The sensation of his hot breath against your cool skin sent shivers throughout your body, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

Your boyfriend had lost it. He had entirely completely and irrefutably lost his composure. And you weren’t at all upset about it.

“Fuuuck!” You cried out as he set a brutal pace. “S-Sugu—-!”

“Need you.” He repeated in an almost primal growl. “I need all of you!”

You squeaked out a whimper as he sank his teeth into your shoulder before leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys all along your skin. He was marking you up, claiming you as his and his alone. The need that seeped out of his being through his actions and words left you feeling dizzy.

“S-Sugu!”

“Ahhn! Fuck! Princess.”

Watching him lose control like this, feeling him pressing against you in the rawest way, had your eyes rolling back as he forced himself inside. Your muffled moans left Suguru's cock throbbing so hard inside of you that he was afraid he would cum right then in there. He wasn't sure if it was the honey, or his own desire, but he was losing himself at the feeling of being inside of you. You were so wet and tight, and god, you smelt heavenly.

This new-found lust, the desire, had him digging his hands into the sheets underneath you. The earthy musk had your head spinning, fueling your desire as if you had partaken of the honey yourself. You cried out as Suguru continued littering your skin with bites. It was so raw, so hot, and you were already on the edge.

“S-Sugu!” You cried out, feeling your walls clamping around him, squeezing him for all that he was worth. “Suguru I-I—!”

You didn't need to say those last few words as a curtain of dark hair fell around you. “I know,” Suguru grunted, pulling all the way out before slamming into you, making the bed creak under your combined weight. “I can feel it~ feel your tight walls convulsing; I feel you trying to hold back.” His lips pressed against your cheek, breath hot against your sweat-sheened skin. “Don't do that, baby~ I wanna feel you~ wanna make you feel good with my cock.” Your hips rolled shamelessly back against Suguru’s cock, his words egging you.

“C-Close—”

“Yeah, it feels good, doesn't it, Princess~? My thick cock stretching you out, making you feel so good?”

“M-Mhmm!” Your toes curled, breathing quickening as Suguru used all of his strength to fuck you into the mattress. “F-Fuck! I-I’m gonna! Gonna!”

“Yeah— cum for me, baby! Cum all over my cock.”

His words alone, dark and needy, sent you tumbling over the edge. You screamed into the pillow, crying tears of ecstasy as your orgasm was ripped out of you. It was violent and oh-so-tucking good, leaving you a convulsing mess underneath your boyfriend, who shuddered, cock throbbing inside of you. Warmth flooded your pussy as he came, the hot spurt filling you, but not once did Suguru stop. He kept going fucking into you like a crazed animal, stopping you as you weakly tried pulling away.

Once he stopped, you shakily lifted your head out of the sheets, crying out softly as his still-hard cock twitched inside of you. It seemed as though the package wasn't lying about enhancing male performance. Your boyfriend had just filled you up and was raring to go for another round, which was both alluring and terrifying at the same time.

“You okay?” Suguru questioned, voice gravely in your ear as he gently peppered your skin with kisses. You swallowed hard, trying to alleviate the burning in your throat. “Good.”

Without a warning, Suguru slowly began thrusting in and out of you. He kept his pace soft and sweet to not overstimulate you. But before you knew it, those soft, slow thrusts were replaced with the mean, bullying backshots he had just given you. He kept that pace up for over an hour. Face down, ass up on the mattress. His cock had been so hard that it hurt, and no matter how many times he had cum inside of you, it didn't feel like it was enough.

Until he was the one suffering from the overstimulation. He was panting and crying against your lips as his cock throbbed inside of you, draining the last of his cum inside of your wet and willing hole. Both of you were completely gone at that point. Nothing more than a heap of twitching muscles as Suguru lay down, staring up at the ceiling in a daze.

“Y-You good?” You asked in between gasps.

Suguru swallowed hard, reaching for a water bottle on the side of the bed and handing it to you. “S-So fucking good—“ Suguru sighed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you tight against his side. “I-I think that e-experiment was a success.” You swallowed the last gulp before handing the half bottle to your boyfriend.

“A success indeed.” He slowly reached for his phone, texting on the screen with a lazy smirk. “And it’s an experiment gonna get me out of some paperwork.”

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna tell Satoru about it. Get out of some work for a while.”

“Oooh, texting your ‘boyfriend’ after you just put me in ninety-nine positions?” There was a joking tone to your teasing, but your boyfriend scoffed, sitting up to hover over you.

He pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. “I’m texting my best friend this so I can get out of extra work and spend that free time with you—” he reached for the nightstand waving the other honey pack in your face. “and the honey pack.”

“Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Text him!”

Gojo Satoru:

You had been minding your business, watching some trashy reality TV show, when a box was tossed on the coffee table. You pull your eyes away from the screen long enough to watch a flash of white blur before Satoru plopped down on the ground. Something was going on, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to participate. He snickered, rubbing his hands together as he looked the box over. Something was going on, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to participate.

But your curiosity got the better, urging you to find out why your boyfriend was in such a good mood. “What are you up to, Toru?” Your body almost moved as you kicked your blanket off, sitting on the floor beside him.

“Suguru and I made a bet.”

Yeah, if it were a bet between the two idiots, you definitely would not want to participate in this with them.

“What is with the two of you making bets against each other?” Satoru lost his hearing when it came to that comment. “Baby, what even is this?”

To answer your question, he ripped the tape off the box opening it up. Reaching his hand inside, he pulled out a pouch. The words ‘Honey Package’ were written in red, with hearts surrounding it. Before you could even begin telling Gojo, you had no intentions of taking whatever was in it. He flipped it over, resting it against the palm of his hand, revealing the clear backside of the package. Inside was a thick amber-colored liquid, which looked just like honey.

“This is like Viagra, but in honey form.”

“Satoru, keeping up with your stamina already is nearly too much. There’s no way you need to take one of those!”

“Ooh, please, you love my stamina. It keeps up with your sex drive.” He wasn't wrong about that at all. “Besides, there’s no way this shit works.”

Oh, well, this conversation took off in a completely different direction. “Huh?” You blinked, eyeing the package as Satoru squished it in his hand, using it like a stress ball. “Wait, you don’t think it’s gonna work?” Cerulean eyes almost glimmered with annoyance as they darted in your direction.

“Baby, these aphrodisiacs never work. What happens is you eat a bunch of strawberry chocolate, and you think that it’s an aphrodisiac urging you to fuck. This right here.” The foil packaging crumpled slightly. He ripped up one of the corners. “Is some rich assholes gimmick to try to make a bunch of money. These Influencers get a free sample and act like they fuck all night. They make a commission off of it. So yes, I don’t think it works.”

“But Suguru does? I thought for sure it would be the other way around.”

“Yeah, this is gonna be the easiest bet I’m gonna win.” You hummed, watching as Satoru squeezed the honey into his mouth. “I’m going to make him every single dessert from the many of the newest cafés downtown.”

“And what does he get if you lose?”

“Bragging rights, and I would have to do all his paperwork for an entire week.”

Satoru sighed constantly at the thought of syncing his teeth into some delicious sweets as he tossed the empty package onto the table before kicking his feet out in front of him, placing his hands behind his head. He had this in the bag, no doubt about that.

It only took thirty minutes to pass.

You were the first to notice something wasn't quite right with your loving boyfriend. He looked flushed; his hands gripped the sofa cushions for dear life, and sweat began to bead on his forehead. You decided it would be best for you to keep an eye on him in case he had some kind of reaction to the honey. It could be dangerous to take enhancers like that, not knowing what sort of effect they would have on the person. The last thing you wanted was for him to get sick.

Another ten minutes passed, and Satoru threw his jacket off along with his pants, leaving him in nothing but his T-shirt and boxers. Although he had put himself in this state, you hated seeing him in such discomfort. With a heavy sigh, you got on your knee and pressed your hand against his forehead. He was hot to the touch, and you needed to lower his temperature.

“Toru, sweetie, let's get you in the shower, okay?” He panted heavily, cloudy crystalline blue eyes meeting yours. “We'll take a cool shower to get your temperature down.”

“I—-need—”

You frowned, leaning closer toward his mouth. “What was that? You need what?” Satoru's pretty lips quivered before his hand flew up, grabbing you by the arms and pushing you against the sofa. “T-Toru.” Your boyfriend towered above you, panting heavily as he looked you up and down with a growl, his erection throbbing in his boxers.

“I need you.” He growled, his hand reaching down, squeezing his cock. “I need you so bad; it hurts, baby. Please, please, I need you.”

Two things were clear to you at that moment. One, your boyfriend would be doing a ton of paperwork for the next month, and second, you were in for a fight for your life. The logical part of your brain told you to run; he had put himself in this situation so he could deal with it on his own. The other more empathetic part of you once against hated seeing him suffering.

Against all logical reasoning, you sighed, reaching down and tugging your shorts and panties off.

“You're not ever taking this shit again.” You Pulled him up, heading to the bedroom, where you shoved him down on the bed. “This shit has you all hot, chemicals and stuff.”

“It’s all organic.” He barked out, pulling you down onto the mattress with him. “It’s not so much bad as it’s well—” he trailed his fingers up the curves of your breasts. “It’s different,” Gojo finally whispered, his hand mimicking slowly moving up along your collarbone, sliding down the swell of your breasts. Your breath caught in your throat as he began massaging them, “And different isn't always a bad thing.” he nipped at your ear.

Gojo’s fingers slid further down, tracing circles around your nipples. They hardened automatically, causing you to arch your back at the sensations. Perhaps he was right—maybe this wasn't as bad as you thought it was going to be. You moaned, running your hand over Gojo’s crotch, palming at his already throbbing erection. Your moans and Gojo’s growls of pleasure began mixing, making it sound as though there was a promo playing in the background. But there wasn't; it was just you and your very hornh boyfriend.

“Fuck I need to touch you, Sweetie.” He said in a barely audible tone against the crook of your neck, “God, I need to. Need to be inside of you.” His hand slid further down, teasing your mound with careful fingers. As he did, he nipped and sucked on your neck, leaving you whimpering as you straddled him. You bucked your hips into his hand, craving more of his touch, wanting to feel his skin on your intimate parts.

“Toru, don’t tease me.” you begged through moans as you slid your hand into his boxers, “touch me baby.” Satoru hisses as you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and stroke him up and down. The contact had Gojo growling like a wild beast, thrusting into your hand, his fingers slipping further down until his entire hand was cupping your dripping sex.

You felt as though you were high off the honey as you inhaled sharply when his fingers slid up and down the lips of your pussy. “Holy shit, Sweetheart,” he growled lustfully in your ear, “you’re so fuckin’ wet.” Those long sinful fingers of his rubbed circles around your clit, causing you to gasp, “Mhmm, and it’s all for me.”

“And you’re so hard, Gojo,” you managed to whisper, “n-not that you aren't hard all the time. But you're fuck, you're so hard!” You began rubbing the pad of your thumb over the slit of his cock, “So fucking hard.” Pre-cum smeared over the sensitive head, leaving him moaning loudly as he dipped his fingers inside of you, pumping them. He watched as you peered up at him, moaning, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer.

Your boyfriend pressed his forehead against yours as he kept pumping his fingers. The fucking honey was enhancing everything he felt. The adoration for you, the lust, fuck he had never been this horny in his entire life. He let those feelings fuel him, helping him move as the two of you worked each other towards extraordinary mind-blowing orgasm.

Gojo curled his fingers, brushing them across your g-spot. You gasped loudly, squeezing his cock, causing him to growl loudly, pumping faster and harder against that sweet spot. You did your best to hold out as long as you could; you didn't want to cum too soon.

“Sweetheart,” Gojo licked your earlobe, nibbling it between his teeth. “Cum for me.” When he told you to do so, that was a different story.

You came hard, rocking against his fingers. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you as Gojo kept moving his fingers, extending your orgasm. Your toes curled into the sheets as you arched your back, pressing your bare breasts against his chest. Gojo kept moving, not stopping until you were panting, basking in the afterglow of your release. When you finally opened your eyes, you met the lust-filled cerulean eyes of your boyfriend. He was staring at you, stroking your mound lazily.

“Toru,” you tugged at his shirt, “I need you to fuck me right now.” He was happy to oblige, stripping his shirt off and throwing it on the side of the bed before Gojo rolled, pushing you back against the mattress and hovering over you. He looked like he was seconds away from cumming, so you decided it would be best for you to take control, so you quickly rolled, flipping him back over so you were straddling him.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” His voice was as grave as he groaned, gripping your hips as you lowered yourself onto his impressive cock. You shivered, resisting the urge to start riding him right then and there and opting to enjoy the feeling of him stretching you out. “Sweetie,” Satoru groaned, squeezing your hips. “Nngh!!” the honey had him desperate, wanting to fuck, so for you just to sit there, not moving, was literal torture. “Holy nngh! Fuck please, ride me already. You’re killing me here!” He thrusts up, causing you to gasp, making you bounce up and down. “That’s more like it.”

You nodded, grabbing your boyfriend's hands and sliding up the curves of your body before placing them on your breasts. Understanding your silent request, Satoru massaged and kneaded them, brushing his thumb and index fingers over your sensitive nipples. You whimpered, rocking your hips, his cock hitting your g-spot with every rock of your hips. Gojo sat up, thrusting eagerly to meet your rhythm.

You dig your fingers into Gojo’s fluffy tufts of pristine white hair, pulling him close to your breasts. He took the hint, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, tugging, sucking, and nipping at it. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His fingers dug into the small of your back; you were pretty sure you were going to have bruises there tomorrow.

With each thrust from Gojo, you grew closer and closer, chasing your orgasm. Gojo's mouth continued to assault your nipples, teasing them ever so slightly. By this time, you and Gojo's moans groans, and growls of pleasure flooded the room. The two of you were so loud you were positive the neighbors would file a noise complaint against you.

But you didn't give a fuck about that.

All that mattered was how good Satoru felt. How your nails dug into his back, scratching at his flawless skin as he thrusts deeper and harder inside of you. You let out screams, digging your nails deeper into his skin as he flips the two of you over. Gojo stares at you before slamming his lips on yours. His tongue is fighting against yours for dominance. He growls, thrusting faster and deeper inside you.

“Toru, I’m gonna cum!” You gasped, gripping his hair and staring into his stunning eyes. He stares back into yours; he smirks, pressing his forehead against yours, kissing your lips softly.

“Cum for me, sweetie,” he mutters against your lips, “Haaah~ fuck yes, cum for me, cum with me.” He pounded ruthlessly into you, gripping the headboard and slamming into your g-spot.

You wrapped your legs around his digging your heels in his ass and pulling him deeper. And it sends you over the edge, you gasp, your orgasm rippling through you. You tighten around Gojo, and he groans, burying his face in your neck as he thrusts a few more times before following you over the edge, cumming inside you.

You lay there, Gojo’s weight crushing you, but you don't mind. After taking a second to catch his breath, he chuckled softly, pulling out of you before laying on his back, placing you flat on his chest. He took a deep breath, running his finger through your hair. You turned your head, resting it over his heart with a dorky smile.

“That was—”

“Amazing,” Gojo finished for you. That was amazing.” You giggled, nodding in agreement.

“Beyond amazing.”

“Mhmm.”

“Hey Gojo?” He lifted his head, staring into your eyes.

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” You bite your bottom lip, kissing up his chest.

“Do you have any more of that, honey? I wanna try some with you.” You felt him tense. He grinned quickly, placing you on the side before he stood up, running out of the room and grabbing a package off the counter.

“Have as much as you like!” as you ripped the package open with your teeth, Satoru lifted your legs placing them over his shoulders as he kissed your inner thighs “Sit back and relax while you wait for it to kick in.” You swallowed the sweet liquid in your mouth before reaching down and running your hands through Gojo’s soft tufts of hair as he dragged his tongue up your slit. “I can keep myself entertained for now.”

Nanami Kento:

With Nanami working so many hours and you staying home caring for your daughter. You and Nanami hardly have any time alone anymore. Sure, you were able to sneak a date here and there—a quickie in the morning before he had to go to work. The romance, sex, and relationship were planned now. But Nanami missed the spontaneous sex; he missed laying in bed with you, hearing your gasps and moans. Feeling the way you would clamp down on him when you came.

God, he missed the sex.

Nanami sighed, running a hand over his face as he unlocked the door to your house. All the lights were off, meaning you had most likely put your daughter to bed, seeing that it was close to three in the morning. Kento dropped his keys and messenger bag on the entry table before heading into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Sitting on the counter was a loaf of homemade bread and a package of honey. Kento cocked an eyebrow as he approached the treat that had been left out for him. A sticky note with your handwriting on it was next to the bread.

‘It must have been a long day~ enjoy this aphrodisiac honey, and wake me up in the sweetest way you can. You have his full consent even if I’m asleep. Much Love— your wife!’

Kento reread the note several times before eyeing the honey. Aphrodisiac honey? He had heard you mention it before. You suggested trying one of these weekends when you both had time together, which might be a fun treat. And he was tired and stressed from a long day. He couldn't deny how his pants tightened at the thought of waking you up horny and completely needy.

Kento sliced himself a piece of bread without much thought before smearing it with the honey. It was surprisingly good. Most aphrodisiacs he had heard of had an odd taste to them. This tasted like honey bread. And that in itself was dangerous.

Kento managed to eat two slices of honey bread before he began feeling the effects working its way down to his cock. He wanted you, and seeing that you had given him your consent, he planned on having you. Not wanting to waste any more time, Kento headed up the stairs, gripping the railing. He quickly stopped into the nursery next to your bedroom to check on your daughter, who was sleeping peacefully. Nanami smiled, brushing back a cur of her hair before leaning down and kissing her forehead before heading into the master bedroom.

The lamp on your side of the bed was still on. It looked like you had fallen asleep while reading a book, and now you are resting on your chest. Kento leaned against the front of the bed, watching his wife sleep peacefully. Your chest moved up and down as you dreamed away. Your beautiful hair was sprawled against the pillow as the low light of the lamp illuminated your beautiful body. Your soft skin was complimented by your navy nightgown that hugged your curves perfectly. God, he was so lucky to have you in his life.

You muttered something, moaning softly as you dreamed. That sound had Nanami’s cock twitching as you rolled on your back, completely exposing your body to him. The honey seemed to take over his body. He had to have you right now. With a glance back at the nursery, Nanami decided to go through with his horny desires. He made quick work of shedding out of his clothes. If he was quiet enough, maybe he could get away with a midnight snack before he went to bed without waking your daughter.

Kento crawled under the sheets and comforter, slowly making his way up the bed. He listened to his wife for any sign that you had woken up, but you were still fast asleep. When he finally reached your feet, he began placing kisses on both of them, gently spreading your legs open as he made his way closer and closer to her pussy. Nanami nipped and sucked at your inner thighs, dragging his slight stubble on his chin over your soft skin.

He could never get over how soft your skin was. Or how you shivered under his lips, How you were wet with the slightest touch of his hands and lips. The honey was making his head whirl as he finally met your cunt. Ever so slowly, Nanami dragged his tongue along the folds of your pussy, moaning at your sweet taste. You were sweeter than the honey he had eaten. You were wet and delicious, so of course, he found himself reaching up and grabbing your hips as he pulled himself closer to your pussy, desperately wanting to taste more of you against his tongue.

“Mmm,” you whimpered in your sleep, moving slightly under his touch. That slight movement left Kento licking faster, taking your clit into his mouth and sucking in it hard. Your hips buckled slightly as he swirled his tongue around the bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue against you. “K-Ken.” you exhaled softly, rocking your hips roughly as you dreamed.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered against your folds, sliding two fingers inside of you. When he breached the tight ring of muscles, he began pumping them, and suddenly, the sheets flew back. Nanami looked up at you, seeing flushed cheeks as you propped yourself up on your elbows, staring down at your husband.

“K-Kento, what are you doing?” you whispered between moans as he pumped his fingers faster, “Oh his God.” you groaned, throwing your head back against the pillows. Your hand reached down, gripping his hair, tugging it as he continued to kiss you. “Y-You found the h-honey!”

“Mhmm,” he moaned against you, moving his head back and forth, curling his fingers inside of you, moving them in the ‘come hither’ motion. “And it was delicious~ but my Love, you’re far sweeter.” Your hips bucked forward as you began convulsing around his fingers. Nanami could hear your breathing in fast, quiet pants as you tried to control your volume. Knowing he had that kind of effect on you had him smirking against your pussu, feeling you come undone over his slightest touches; God, the honey had already affected him, but you turned him on even more.

“K-Kento— I-I’m gon-” you could barely get out the rest of the sentence as his lips took your clit into his mouth again, and he sucked at you relentlessly. Pulling out gasps and earth-shattering moans that had him grinding against your mattress. Your hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the screams that threatened to escape. The last thing either of you wanted was to wake your daughter

Your left hand tangled in his blonde locks, tugging on it as you came against his mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure shook your body as he continued sucking; his honey-brown eyes were dull from the amount of pleasure of watching you cum. God, he fucking loved you.

You panted roughly, slowly releasing your grasp on his hair. This allowed him to pull away, licking his lips before pulling his fingers out of you with a hiss. You shivered, watching as he slowly stuck his fingers into his mouth, sensually licking them clean. The seductive act left you staring at him as if he were one of the world's wonders. Seeing the hunger in your eyes, Nanami chuckled.

“If I didn't know any better, I would think you had eaten the honey.” He popped his fingers back into his mouth, watching as you slowly licked your lips before reaching up and cupping his face. Nanami followed your needy movements, letting you bring his face down to yours, kissing you deeply while pulling him down on top of you and trapping him there, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Kento,” you whispered against his lips as he pulled away, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Need you.” You nipped your teeth at his bottom lip. He moaned, slamming his lips against you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. His tongue moved against yours, massaging it as you rocked your hips against his crotch. He was so hard; he needed more of you. Nanami trailed his hands over the curves of your body, reaching for the front of your nightgown, kneading at your breasts.

You arched into his touch as he pulled your nightgown down, exposing your breasts to him. He took one of your perky nipples into his mouth and began sucking on your breast, tugging at it with his teeth, drawing out a long, loud moan from you. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued to suck and nip at you. Nanami groaned as your hands slowly trailed down his back, tugging his boxers off, allowing his erection to spring free from her confinements. Your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it with your hand softly. Kentowas already hard, but your touch made him even harder. He was eager for more, wanting to plunge into your slickened folds.

“Enough teasing,” you whispered against his neck as you trailed kisses down it, “I’m more than ready for you now.” you nipped at his skin, spreading your legs for him, “I want you, Kento.” How could he deny you? He made quick work pulling your nightgown off completely before kicking his boxers off. He hovered over you, cupping your face as he kissed you again.

“I love you, darling.” he whispered, grabbing his cock with his free hand and stroking it slightly, “Fuck, I love you so much; I missed you.”

“Show me how much you missed me,” you whispered breathlessly, staring into his honey-brown eyes. “Show me, Ken.”

As you commanded, he slowly began sliding inside of her. He groaned, feeling your juices coat the head of his cock. Kento bit down on his lip, trying to control himself. The honey had made his body overly sensitive. He can control himself. He watched her instead, enjoying the face you made. Her mouth opened slightly, and your cheeks flushed. You were such a beautiful woman. And this lovely woman had her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer towards your center.

“More,” You whispered through a moan, “I need more of you.” he nodded, kissing you lovingly as he slid deeper inside of you, his cock nestled deep inside of your pussy, hitting your cervix. “F-Fuck—” Kento paused for a moment, but only a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size before he began slamming in and out of you. “Y-Yes, oh fuck yes, Ken!.” you cried out, which was quickly silenced as Nanami placed his fingers over your lips.

“Shh, you’ll wake her up.” you mewled, nodding as you pursed your lips together as Nanami began thrusting slowly. He groaned as you lifted your hips in time with him, making his pace quicken. Your gasps and moans meddled in with the creaking bed. A symphony of pleasure that only made Nanami more eager. The honey made you look even more delicious as you arched your back, begging for more. To which he happily complied. Nanami’s hands slowly slid between your bodies. You bit down on your lip as his thumb instantly found your clit.

“Kento!” you gasped as his thumb lazily began tracing circles around the bundle of nerves. Which resulted in your bucking as he began slamming into you. Kento’d cock was painfully hard, but it didn't stop him from ramming against your g-spot with every thrust. In no time, your walls began clamping down on him.

“Fuck Love, you feel so good, baby.” He gasped loudly, thrusting deeper inside of you. His hands kneaded her breasts, his thumb and forefinger gripped and twisted your nipples, all while he trailed kisses down your neck, letting the aphrodisiac lead him. Your hands gripped his ass, gasping loudly as you whispered his name.

Kento felt the pleasure building inside his lower abdomen, like a coil tightening in his stomach. He was close. And from the way you were rocking against him, how you threw your head back, moaning softly, he knew you were close too. His fingers began rubbing your clit in faster and harder as he thrust quickly as fast as he could. Listening to the sound of you whimpering on a strangled gasp as he moved his hand to cover your mouth.

“That’s my girl, cum for me, cum all over me, baby.” you nodded, moaning loudly against his hand as you clamped down on your husband's cock. Your orgasm hits you hard, coating Nanami’s cock with your juices. Feeling you cumminf so hard left Nanami growling, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his thrusts less rhythmed as he fell over the edge following your orgasm. You could feel it as he came deep inside of you. But not once did his hips stop. They kept thrusting as your pussy milked me dry, making him spill his seed deep inside of you.

He collapsed on top of you, removing his hand from your mouth. The two of you lay there panting in the haze of our orgasms. After a few moments to breathe, Nanami looked at you, smirking as he kissed your lips gently, winning a kiss back from you.

“Welcome home,” you smiled, gently stroking his cheek. It looks like the honey worked.”

“Mhmm, you should order us some more.” He nuzzled your neck, winning a giggle from his wife.

“I couldn’t agree more.” You kissed his head as he rolled over, holding you in his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Darling. God, I love you so much.” he whispered against your hair, inhaling the scent of your favorite shampoo. “I’m so happy to be home.” he muttered as you snuggled close to him. The two of you lay there in bliss before you finally fell asleep in his arms. Kento grinned, kissing your head before closing his eyes and following you into dreamland.

Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU):

“Ehem!” your boyfriend groaned, clearing his throat for the thousandth time that morning. “Fuck, my throat is so scratchy.”

You gave him a smile as he drank some water. “ I told you screaming would hurt your throat.” Sukuna narrowed crimson eyes at you, but he didn’t argue because you had, in fact, warned him about that last night at the concert. “And just so you know, water isn’t going to help with that.” this time, your boyfriend scoffed, raising a pierced at you as he placed his glass down on the counter.

“Oh, and what makes you say that?”

“Because I am medically trained, " you said, placing the kettle on the stove and grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “Hot tea will be better to ease that scratchy feeling.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

While the kettle was slowly heating up, you searched the pantry, grabbing a teabag and the honey. Only you found no honey left, well, not enough for honey tea. You would have to remember to add that to the list the next time you go to the grocery store. But luckily for you, you had luck at the bachelorette party you had gone to the weekend before. The entryway dug through your purse, pulling out the goodie bag you were given when you left. Of the goodie bag was a mixture of penis-shaped candy condoms that were too small for your boyfriend and a package of honey. Which you had assumed was reserved for food. But the food place would have to wait. Easing Sukuna’s discomfort was more important than pleasure.

When the kettle finally went off, whistling to let you know it was ready, you hurried back into the kitchen. Sukuna watched as he poured the hot water over the teabag in his mug. “Let the tea steep for five minutes and then pour this into it,” you instructed, tossing the package at him.

“Honey pack?” Sukuna asked as he caught it with ease, reading the label. He turned it over, examining the contents before shrugging his shoulder. “Alright, whatever you say. You are the medically trained one.” you fought back a laugh as you leaned over the counter, pressing your lips against his. “Have a good day at work, oh-so-well-trained-one.”

“I will dork; I love you.”

“Ditto.”

When you made it to work, you gushed to your coworkers about the concert Sukuna had taken you to the night before. He somehow managed to get tickets to your favorite band and got you VIP seating. The night had been one of the best nights of your life. You both had gotten drunk and screamed to the songs at the top of your lungs before passing out back at his apartment. It has been so much fun and you would never forget it.

“You are so in love with him.” Your work Bestie laughed as you dreamily sighed, wishing the clock would move faster.

“I am; he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You were a second away from getting up to room a patient when you heard thundering footsteps approaching your desk. Quickly, looking over your shoulder, your manager and one of the receptionists approached you. You could tell there was something wrong from the panicked look on their faces.

You pushed away from your desk, pressing back the rising fear within you. “What happened?”

“Your boyfriend is here in the lobby. He’s asking for you, saying there’s an emergency. Grab your stuff and go. I’m going to clock you out,” your manager said as you began collecting your things.

You began running through the office, slamming the doors to the lobby open. Did something happen to his brothers? Was Yuuji okay at school? Or did something happen to Choso? There were so many different scenarios that could’ve happened. You need to get out of here fast. You picked up your pace bursting through the open door finding Sukuna waiting for you. His chest was rising and falling; his cheeks were slightly flushed as if he had run the entire way to your building. When those crimson eyes met yours, he moved, grabbed your hand, and tugged you out of the office.

You held onto him, running to keep up with his long strides. He didn’t say a word. Maybe he wanted to get to a more intimate place to tell you what was happening. When you made it into the parking garage, you saw his car waiting a few rows back. You quickly opened the front door to the passenger seat, but the door didn’t open entirely as Sukuna touched it, slamming it shut.

“Kuna?”

“Get in the back.”

His voice was hoarse and full of need. A raw need that had heat pooling between your thighs. “H-Huh?” your question went unanswered as his eyebrow twitched and evident frustration.

“I said get in the fucking backseat.” to emphasize his point, he opened the door to the back, pushing you towards it.

You quickly crawled into the backseat without any other swelling as you turned your head to look at him. He was even heavier than when he was in your office. His cheeks were a darker shade of red as he growled at the side of you, sprawled against his backseat. Your eyes down his body and find his gray sweats too tight around the crotch, and that source of the tightness twitched. Did he seriously pull you out of work because he was horny?!

“K-Kun—what the fuck is happening? My boss said it was an emergency.”

You scooted back, watching as Sukuna ducked his head, joining you in the backseat and slamming the door behind him. “What was I supposed to say? hey I need you to send my girlfriend home because my cock feels like it’s going to explode.” He reached for you, tugging your scrub pants down tossing them into car's front seat. “I don’t think she would’ve been so keen on you leaving for that reason.” your underwear was suddenly his next target as they were ripped off using all of his strength.

“W-What happened to you? You couldn’t help but giggle at the desperation in his movements. “I just left like an hour ago.”

“Yeah, well, I started feeling fucking weird after you left.” He pulled his sweats down enough to free himself. His cock bounced, the tip leaking pre-cum as he pulled you into his lap, spitting into his hand, lubing up his cock. “It didn’t make a lot of sense as to why I felt so fucking horny until I put it together.”

Straddle his hips, gripping onto his shoulders. “And what did you manage to put together, Kuna?” he grabbed your hips, forcing you down onto him without so much as a warning, drawing out a gasp from you as he hissed.

“That Honey Pack you gave me is an aphrodisiac.”

Suddenly, it became very clear as to why they would include that in a goodie bag at a bachelorette party. Those thoughts,s however, were suddenly clouded with pleasure as Sukuna dug his fingers into your hips, beginning to jackhammer up into your dripping cunt. “Fuck!” You cried out, throwing your head back and leaving your neck exposed. Your boyfriend took the opportunity to bite into your neck with an almost feral snarl as his hips kept bucking up into you at a nearly inhuman speed. “O-Oh my god fuck!!”

“Mmphm~.” he pulled away, running his tongue over the Mark. He had left on your skin. The chill of his tongue piercing left you shivering above him on his lap. “You have no clue how hard it was for me to control myself, and I saw you running towards me back there. I nearly lost a little control. I had on myself and fucked you right there in the lobby.”

“O-Oooh, oooh nngh.”

Sukuna, even in his horny thoughts, felt you clench around him at his words. “Oh, what was that? Would you like that, you dirty fucking slut? Do you want me to fuck you in public in front of all your coworkers? Then they would know you aren't this innocent little medical assistant. They would know you’re my dirty fucking slut.” you clenched harder around him. “Oh my God, you would like that!”

“K-Kuna!”

“That’s not an answer,” he growled, fisting your hair, yanking your head to the side, exposing the other side of your neck. “Use your words Kitten.” his teeth sank into the other side of your neck as he bullied his cock deeper inside of you, rubbing the tip greedily against your cervix in an almost painful way, but the pleasure overwhelmed the pain.

“Yes!! Yes, I want that! I want you!”

Hearing you say that caused the last cord of strength in Sukuna to snap. He moved with a certain despite being cramped in the back of his car. Your back hit the seat, knocking the air out of your lungs as the head of his cock slammed against your cervix harder. When you looked up at him, you whimpered. Something instinctual told you to submit to the much larger predator above you. Your body wanted it to give into him, allowing him to have his way with you.

Sukuna growled, his pierced tongue slowly over his bottom lip as those dark, lust-filled eyes watched you tremble underneath him. He had to have you. And every way he possibly could. Sukuna pulled out, groaning at the feeling of your inner walls, attempting to prevent him from leaving, but they didn’t need to try to stop him because he had no intention of pulling out.

“My dirty slut.” Sukuna growled as he slammed back into using all of his strength. “Wantk g fuck him in front of your coworkers in front of a bunch of strangers.” he leaned over you, pressing his lips against yours. “Even if that were something you would want, I would never do that. Because I would kill anyone who looked at you like that.”

“N-Nnngh—oh—fuck!”

Your wall squeezed around him hugging his cock tight. “Are you squeezing down on me because it turns you on to know how I’m so possessive over you?” you weakly nodded, crying out softly as you tried and failed to kiss him. Your moans are spilling out, preventing you from moving your lips against his and the way you wanted. “Awe, Kitten~ you can’t even talk because you’re feeling so good.” another nod. “Haah~ such a good girl for me just lay back and feel good while I use your pussy okay?”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the powerful thrusts that came next. Sukuna grabbed your hips, holding them down as he fucked into you like you were a flashlight. The car rocked with each slam of his hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin was almost as loud as the growls and moans that sounded from you both. Sweat coated your low, lower body as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your boyfriend could feel it, too. Feel the way your nails dug into his forearms, how you’re pretty legs trembled with your building orgasm. He watched you slowly coming undone, and that sight only pressed him to go further.

All of his control vanished as he fucked into you like he hated you. “K-Kuna!” You screamed, eyes watering as he reached up, choking your eyes, shutting tight. “G-Gonna—oh fuck I-I’m gonna!” Sukuna's thumb found your clit rubbing it, giving you that final push you were needing.

“Then fucking cum Kitten~”

You came hard and fast. The pleasure hitting you in the most wonderful way. Sukuna watched from above, grunting at the feeling of you squirting all over his cock. That sensation had him lurching forward as his own orgasm hit him. His cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as he came. Your mouth fell at the feeling of his cum filling you. It was so warm, and you hummed happily, giggling as Sukuna fell on top of you, peppering your face with kisses.

“Uuugh.”

“Uugh?” You laughed breathlessly, your fingers tracing over the tattoos that were etched into his face. “That’s a first.”

“Y-Yeah fuck whatever, we need to hurry.” He whispered affectionately against your kiss-swollen lips. “G-Gonna be hard again. We need to get home.”

“Oh? Really what-aahnn—” Your question was lost with a moan as Sukuna grabbed your earlobe, tugging it roughly, teasing your weak spot. “Fuck!”

“I plan on taking you home and fucking until both of us pass out or whenever my dick stops working.” you know damn well he meant every single word. “You wanted to take such good care of me this morning. You still can. But I don’t need you to make me tea. I need to fuck you in every way I can.” You moaned, squirming in anticipation of what was to come when you got home. “But before we get home and start our fuck-fest, I need you to do something for me when we get home.”

“What do you need, Ku-nnngh!” his lips sealed around your ear, gently sucking and kissing on it.“Holy fuckin’ fuck!”

“I need you to order us some more of this honey~” he didn’t need to tell you twice. You proudly subscribe to the monthly subscription box. Because having him lose all of his composure was something you definitely wanted to experience again and again.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks

[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, slams 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

“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 have deserved if you were wearing 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. 

[luveline]

do you think you could do something with zombie au where reader is on her period? thank you!!

thank you for your request! fem, 1k

You’ve gotten your period three times since the apocalypse began. The first time, you and Steve were just beginning to get along, and he’d proved why you trust him as you do, treating the whole thing with kindness. More recently, he’s your unofficial boyfriend. Like, kissing you and holding you, but foregoing the conversation that would make you an official couple. 

Either he doesn’t want to be official (which is fine, it’s not like he’s going anywhere), or you’re official without words. You’ve assumed the latter because the former makes you nauseous. 

Not that you need much help in that department. Your stomach churns like a tide, bouts of sickness and pain that hit you rampantly as you follow Steve downstairs. 

“Can I take my shoes off?” you ask. 

“Why are you asking me? It’s not my house.” Steve descends the last step and holds his hand behind him for you. Seemingly to help you down a step you don’t need help with. 

You’re asking because taking your shoes off means getting comfy for the night, and he doesn’t want to do that at every house you break into.

You don’t explain yourself. You follow Steve into the living room, hoping he’s going to take your hand again. He nudges you with his hip into a mildly dusty couch. 

You sit. “What, are we gonna watch TV?” you joke. 

“You look sickly.” 

That’s not nice. “I do?” you ask, all teasing gone from your tone. You often wish you were much prettier, and occasionally beg fate to drop a bottle of medical grade body wash into your lap, if just to make Steve see you that way. But Steve’s kissed you with a greasy nose and blood on your chin. You were hoping appearances didn’t matter. 

“You look awful,” he says, his eyebrows stitching together as he heads into the kitchen. “Stay sat down!” 

“Awful?” you ask. 

He doubles back, face peeking around the doorway. “Not like that,” he says hurriedly. “Just, sick. I’m gonna cook you something.” 

“I don’t need to be sat down, I’m fine.” 

He disappears again. “That why you’re glaring at me?” he calls, his voice echoing against tile. 

You don’t have the energy for whatever it is that’s happening. You kick your legs out on the couch and begin kneading the swollen mess that is your stomach, debating on telling him why you’re grumpy. It’s not like he cares. He never finds it gross, but you don’t want him to pity you either. It’s just a period. 

(It really sucks.) 

“Alright, the hot plate is on,” he calls. “What do you want, huh? We got the split pea soup, or the chicken casserole?” He laughs. “The casserole, duh. Ten minutes and it’s yours.” 

Your breath rushes out through your nose. Stomach hurts, head hurts, he’s making you dinner and laughing where you can’t see him. You force yourself to get up, shuffling to the kitchen with a pout already in place. 

“Ten minutes is not right,” you say, announcing your movement so he doesn’t stab you. 

“Is too right. How come you never listen?” 

“Steve, please don’t be mean to me, I’m on my period.” You wince as a pang climbs your back. 

“Oh, you are?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Well… I’m glad, sort of. Better that then the flu, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

A couple of weeks ago, he would’ve told you to go back to the couch, and he would’ve brought your food in to you, wrapping a blanket over your legs and leaving you to it. But this is now. Your unwilling protector has gone remarkably soft on you. 

“Is it like last time?” he asks, holding out his arm. 

You drift toward him, pretending it isn’t to be hugged. “It hurts, if that’s what you mean.” 

“It hurts,” he repeats in a murmur as his arm finally curls around your waist. He pulls you into his side.

“You’re pitying me.” 

“You like it,” he jokes, his tone still held in that soft murmuring. 

You close your eyes, driving your nose into his chest. The hot plate gurgles weakly on the stove, using the last of a canister of camping gas, a few days from the end of its life. Your eyelids feel heavy closed, achy not with tears but fatigue, and your head aches with a migraine you know from experience won’t be defeated using tylenol. But Steve hugs you with one arm and leans against you as you press into him. Stuck together. He doesn’t move for ages. 

“I’m glad I don’t get my period,” he says. 

“You act like you do.” 

“Were you not gonna tell me? I guess you don’t have to, but if you’re in pain, I’d like to know.” 

“Don’t need you to feel any more sorry for me.” 

“I don’t. Just like rubbing your back.” 

Your heart skips a beat. That’s as close to a confession of feelings you’ve ever gotten from him. Well, verbally. His sporadic kissing says a lot. 

“Thanks for telling me,” he says. You have to strain your ears to hear him. “I don’t think there’s much iron in chicken casserole. I wish we… How much iron is there in squirrel?” 

“I don’t wanna eat squirrel.” Again. 

“It’s good for you.” 

Doubtful. You turn completely into his touch and hug him. “Please don’t make me eat squirrel.” 

You sound a teeny tiny bit pitiful, and you earn yourself an even better hug than the first. “I won’t, I won’t, I was just kidding,” he promises, “I just figure you need it. Maybe if we look through the medicine cabinet they’ll have some multivitamins or something.” His hand grabs at your side. It’s not a careful touch, though he’s far from spiteful. “You need painkillers, right? I could crush a Vicodin into your casserole.” 

“Yes, please.” 

Steve’s nose presses into the side of your face. You feel close to him in a way that chokes you up, but you don’t need to talk any more. 

“Half a Vicodin,” he deliberates, “and I’ll rub your back.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || You're Friends With Benefits and you're Pregnant

☪Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

☪MASTERLIST

SEOKJIN:

You were sitting across from Jin, your hands trembling slightly as you muster the courage to tell him the news. it was something you'd been meaning to do for a few weeks now but every time you'd tried to do it you'd lost all of your courage. 

"Jin..." You whisper a little. His warm smile faded as soon as he saw the seriousness in your expression. The two of you had been friends for years and he knew how to read you like a book.

"I need to tell you something important." You started a little and he leaned in slightly, concern etched on his face.

"What is it? You know you can tell me anything." You take a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest. You knew you could tell him anything but that didn't make what you needed to tell him any easier to say.

"I'm pregnant." For a moment, Jin is silent, his eyes widening as he processes your words. You can see the surprise flash across his face, but it quickly gives way to a calm, thoughtful expression. He inhales deeply, letting the news settle before responding.

"Okay," he says, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

"Okay? T-That's all you have to say?!" Your voice cracked as you let out some of your own panic but Jin took your hand in his and gently soothed your skin a little.

"Let me finish," He laughs softly as he looks at you,

"This is unexpected, but we're going to get through this." he squeezed your hand a little as he looked at you.

"I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. We’ll figure this out together, step by step." You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was already thinking ahead, trying to be strong for you. 

"We need to talk about what you want," he continues softly. He didn't want to force you into keeping the baby or force you into not keeping them. He was going to be there for you no matter what you wanted.

"Whatever you decide, I'll support you 100%. We don’t have to rush into anything right now. We can take our time to figure out what’s best for you, for us, and for the baby." Jin’s calmness made you feel better as you nodded at him.

"I want this...I-I want the baby." You whipped as he nodded, bringing you into his arms.

"We’ll get through this together. A mini me or you would be cute to have around," he promises you as you giggle a little.

YOONGI:

You and Yoongi are sitting in his studio, the soft hum of music playing in the background as he tinkers with some tracks. The atmosphere is relaxed, but your growing anxiety makes it hard for you to stay calm. Yoongi knew it wasn't like you to be quiet, and he frowned, glancing over at you with a concerned look.

"You’re quiet," he observes, as he looks at his computer. The two of you had planned to go to dinner but he was working late. You take a deep breath, your heart pounding as you try to find the right words. This was something that wasn't expected, the two of you were just supposed to have sex and nothing more and yet now everything was going to be changing.

"Yoongi, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s... important." He turns his chair to face you fully, sensing the seriousness in your voice. His usual laid-back expression shifts slightly as concern creeps in. 

"What is it?" he asks, his tone calm but tinged with a subtle tension. 

"You know you can tell me anything." He finished,

"I’m pregnant," you say, the words coming out in a rush before you lose your nerve.

For a moment, the room falls into a heavy silence. Yoongi just stares at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes widen slightly, but his face remains largely impassive, his usual calm exterior giving little away. He blinks a few times, his mind clearly working to process the unexpected news.

"Pregnant?" he finally repeats, his voice quiet, almost as if he’s speaking to himself. He leans back in his chair, his gaze drifting away from you as he tries to make sense of what you’ve just told him.

You watch as his expression darkens, his usual calmness giving way to a troubled look.

"This… this wasn’t supposed to happen," he mutters, his voice low and strained. 

"We were just… It wasn’t meant to get this complicated." There’s a coldness in his tone that you’ve never heard before, a detachment that makes your heart sink. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a deep sigh as he stares at the floor, his thoughts clearly racing.

"I don’t know if I’m ready for this," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"I don’t even know where to begin." He whispered. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s struggling to keep his emotions in check. Yoongi was always been someone who values control, and this news has clearly thrown him off balance. He’s retreating into himself, his mind turning over the implications of what you’ve just told him.

"Yoongi, I’m scared too," you say softly, hoping to reach him through the wall he’s starting to build. You weren't going to let him shut down.

"But we need to figure this out together. I can’t do this alone." His gaze finally shifts back to you, and you can see the turmoil in his eyes. There’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or guilt—but it’s quickly swallowed up by the storm of emotions he’s trying to suppress.

"I know," he says after a long pause, his voice rough around the edges. 

"I just… I need time to think. This is a lot to take in." He stands up, pacing the small space as he tries to wrap his head around the situation. His usual confidence is shaken, replaced by a deep uncertainty that weighs heavily on him. But despite his inner turmoil, there’s still a part of him that cares about you, that wants to do the right thing, even if he’s not sure what that is yet.

"I need time." He repeated and you could hear the distance in his tone, a hesitation that lingers, but there’s also a flicker of determination in his eyes. Your eyes teared up as you realised you were probably going to have to do this all alone.

"But I’m not going anywhere. We’ll talk more, figure out what’s next… together." He whispered as he sat back down, 

"We're doing this together, no matter what." He promises, kissing your hand softly.

HOSEOK:

You and Hoseok were sitting at your apartment, you'd invited him around like you did most weekends and he'd been ready for it. What he hadn't been ready for was the serious look on your face as you sat across from him,

"Hoseok, I need to tell you something… It’s big." His smile fades as he focuses entirely on you, worry now evident in his eyes. "

What is it? You sick? I know you've been off for a while, did you finally go to the doctor?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with anxiety.

"I’m pregnant." You rushed out. The words hang in the air for a moment as he processes what you just said. His eyes widen in surprise, and you can see a mix of emotions flashing across his face—shock, concern, and something else, something softer.

"Pregnant?" he repeats, almost as if testing the word out. He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. 

"Wow, okay… this is... a lot to take in." He whispered as you nodded a little. You knew it was going to be a lot for him.

He falls silent for a moment, his mind clearly racing. But then he looks at you with that familiar warmth in his eyes, the hint of a smile forming at the corners of his lips as he reaches for your hand.

"I won’t lie, I’m a little scared," he admits, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. 

"But… we’ll get through this, okay? It might not be what we planned, but that doesn’t mean it can’t work out. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time." You can see the concern still lingering in his eyes, but he’s trying his best to stay positive, and to be your source of strength in this unexpected situation.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand.

"Are you okay? This must be really overwhelming for you." You nod, a small smile breaking through your nervousness as you see how hard he’s trying to stay optimistic for you. 

"I’m okay, just… scared, I guess."

"Me too," he admits, his smile widening just a bit. 

"But you know what? We’re a team, right? And teams stick together, no matter what." He smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you into a warm hug,

"We’ll take it one day at a time," he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with determination. 

"We're gonna have a baby," you whisper as he runs his hand down to your stomach, touching it softly and smiling brightly. 

"I'm gonna be a dad." He grins down at you, kissing you softly.

NAMJOON:

When you'd invited Namjoon around he thought it was for the same reason he'd been needing to talk to you,

"We'll go at the same time," he chuckles as you nod a little. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before speaking. 

"I’m pregnant."

"I love you-" Your heart launched into your throat as you stared at Namjoon. For a moment, Namjoon is silent, his mind clearly working at a million miles an hour. His initial reaction is one of shock, his eyes widening as he absorbs the news. He quickly pulls himself together, though, and his expression shifts to one of focused determination.

"Wow... okay, this changes everything," he says, his voice calm but thoughtful. He pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing. 

"First, how are you feeling? Are you okay?" You nod, relieved that he’s handling the situation so thoughtfully. 

"I’m… I’m okay, just really overwhelmed." He leans back, exhaling slowly as he runs a hand through his hair. 

"I get that. This is a lot to take in, for both of us." His tone is measured, as if he’s already planning the next steps in his mind. 

"We need to talk about all our options. I want to make sure you feel supported, whatever you decide. This isn’t just about us anymore—it’s about what’s best for you and the baby." Namjoon’s mind is clearly in overdrive, but he’s making a conscious effort to remain calm and focused for your sake. He leans forward, his gaze serious yet caring.

"Joonie..." You trail off, remembering what he had said to you, he looked at you, forgetting for a moment he'd confessed that he loved you.

"I love you too." you smile, kissing him softly as you touch his hand on your stomach and relax a little. Knowing that you weren't alone was going to help a lot with all of this.

JIMIN:

You and Jimin are sitting in your living room, the atmosphere a mix of nervous excitement and underlying tension. You’ve just told him that you’re pregnant, and while you’re were still trying to process the news, Jimin’s reaction was… intense.

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he just stares at you in shock. Then, almost as if a switch flips, he jumps up from the couch, his mind racing a mile a minute. 

"Oh my god, you’re pregnant!" he exclaims, running a hand through his hair. 

"We need to get everything ready. You have to start taking vitamins, right? And what about your diet? Are you getting enough nutrients? Oh god, we need to make sure you’re eating all the right things!"

He starts pacing back and forth, his face a mixture of concern and sheer panic.

"Do we have a plan? What about the doctor? You need to see a doctor, like, right now. And we don’t even have a nursery set up! How are we going to do this? I don’t even know the first thing about babies! Should I be reading books? I need to read books, don’t I?" You watch him, trying to keep a straight face, but the sight of him spiralling into a full-blown panic is both endearing and amusing. A giggle escapes your lips, and soon you’re laughing, the sound light and infectious. Jimin stops mid-pace, turning to look at you with wide eyes.

"Why are you laughing?" he asks, genuinely puzzled. 

"This is serious! We have so much to do!" He panicked at you and you couldn't help but laugh harder. You shake your head, still giggling as you reach out to take his hand, pulling him back down to the couch beside you. 

"Jimin, calm down," you say, trying to suppress another laugh.

"We don’t have to do everything all at once. We’ll figure it out together." You smiled at him, out of the two of you, you thought you would be the one to react like this. He looks at you, his expression softening as he realizes how worked up he’s gotten. 

"I’m just… I don’t want to mess this up," he admits, his voice small and vulnerable. "I want to make sure you’re okay, that the baby’s okay. I’m freaking out because… I care so much." You smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly. 

"I know you do. But you don’t have to do it all by yourself. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?" He nods, taking a deep breath as he tries to calm himself down. But as he looks at you, something shifts in his expression—something deeper, more serious. He hesitates for a moment as if weighing his words, before finally speaking.

"I need to tell you something," he says quietly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. 

"I’ve been freaking out, not just because of the baby, but because… this is so much more to me than just being friends." Your breath catches in your throat as he continues, his voice trembling slightly. Your heart raced as you stared at him,

"I love you," he confesses, his eyes shining with emotion. "Not just as a friend, but as something more. I think I’ve loved you for a while now, but I didn’t know how to say it. And now, with this… I can’t keep it to myself anymore." For a moment, the room is silent, the weight of his words hanging between you. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face as you reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin.

"I love you too, Jimin," you whisper, your voice full of warmth.

"I think I’ve felt this way for a long time too." Relief floods his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His eyes soften as he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

"We’re going to be okay," he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "We’ll figure this out together. And I promise, I’ll be there for you and our baby every step of the way." He runs his hands over your stomach.

TAEHYUNG:

You and Taehyung are sitting on the bathroom floor, your knees pulled up to your chest as you wait for the pregnancy test results. The silence between you is thick with tension, the air heavy with the gravity of the situation. Taehyung, usually so calm and collected, fidgets beside you, his fingers tapping nervously against the tiles. He glances over at you, his eyes filled with concern. 

The two of you had been worried for a while since you'd been sick lately and he was the one that thought of the pregnancy test first.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks softly, breaking the silence.  You nod, trying to muster a small smile despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. 

"I’m okay, just… scared." You admitted. If you were pregnant everything was going to change. It wasn't just going to be sex without strings anymore, There would be A LOT of strings.

Taehyung shifts closer to you, his hand gently finding yours. He squeezes it, his touch warm and reassuring. 

"I know this is scary," he says, his voice steady despite the fear you can see lurking in his eyes. 

"But whatever happens, I’m here for you. I mean it." You look at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you see is sincerity. 

"Taehyung, this… this wasn’t part of the plan. We were just… you know." He nods, his expression serious but tender. 

"I know. We started this as friends with benefits, and I thought I could keep it casual, but… it’s never been just that for me." His voice softens, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. 

"I’ve cared about you more than I ever let on. And now, with this… it just makes me realize how much I want to be there for you. For us." His words hang in the air, their weight settling into the pit of your stomach alongside the anxiety. 

"You really mean that?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly as tears begin to run down your cheeks.

"I do," he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours with a determination that leaves no room for doubt. 

"No matter what happens—whether the test is positive or negative—I’m in this for the long run. You’re not just someone I’ve been seeing; you’re someone I care about deeply. We’ll figure this out together, okay?"

The timer on your phone buzzes, signalling that the test is ready. Your heart races, but Taehyung’s grip on your hand tightens, grounding you in the moment.

"Whatever that test says," he whispers, his voice calm and soothing, 

"We’re going to be okay. We’ll face it together." He nodded at you.  Taking a deep breath, you both lean forward to look at the result. As your eyes scan the test, your emotions swell, but before anything else, you feel Taehyung’s arms wrapping around you, pulling you close.

"We’ll be okay. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere." He promised you as you nodded. His words fill you with a sense of security you hadn’t realized you needed, a promise that no matter what the future holds, you won’t face it alone. 

JUNGKOOK:

As soon as the words "I'm Pregnant" left your lips it had left Jungkook in a state of shock. You almost worried he'd had a heart attack and you weren't sure what you were meant to be doing.

"Jungkook?" You touched his hand softly and he looked down at your hands that were intertwined together. This whole thing had never meant to end this way and yet here you were. One drunken night, one broken condom later and Jungkook felt his whole world changing. Jungkook’s heart races as the words hit him again and again, he slowly looks up at you. 

"Pregnant?" he whispers, almost to himself. His expression shifts from shock to anxiety, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The two of you agreed that this was meant to be something that was only stress relief. Friends with benefits. That was it. 

"This wasn’t supposed to happen… I didn’t mean for this to get so complicated." He looks at you with conflicted eyes, struggling between his feelings for you and the fear of what this means for both of your futures. 

"What do we do now?" He took your hand in his and squeezed softly, while it might not be what he had planned for you there was no way he was going to let you go through any of this alone. It was the two of you that had created the baby and it was going to be the two of you raising them.

"I wanted to talk to you first, and see what you thought I-I should do." your voice shook a little and he smiled weakly, while it might not have been the best scenario he was happy he was going to be a father.

"Well, we get you booked in with a doctor, we get you all the medications you're gonna need and then we go to every single scan together. Do you wanna know the gender? Do you wanna have a baby shower-" Your hand slowly covered his mouth as you let out a small giggle.

"You want to go through with it then?" You asked him before he nodded behind your hand, a giant smile taking over his face.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[bpmiranda]

A Simple Favor |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: based on a request, ex fwb!logan, angst, smut, 20+ f!reader, mutant!reader (unspecified abilities) unprotected sex, oral f! receiving, fingering

Complicated barely scratched the surface when describing what you and Logan were to each other. Relief, perhaps. A fun time, maybe. You definitely weren’t together, you knew that much. Logan wasn’t the type to settle down or commit, at least not to you apparently. As far as you were concerned, you were a placeholder for the one he really wanted; Jean. It didn’t upset you, didn’t make you think less of yourself. You weren’t exactly head over heels for him, so why should it matter that he only wanted to spend the nights with you? You were too busy during the day as it was to spend it pining over some guy like a schoolgirl, something you saw all too often as a teacher here at the school.

“Hey,” His voice brought your attention away from the papers you were grading at your desk and you smiled up at him. “Wanna hang out tonight?” He asked as he walked over to you, leaning onto your desk and smirking as he noticed how your thighs looked cross over each other in your tight pants.

“Yeah, my room?” You ask, looking down at the papers again as you continued your tasks. Logan lets out a small groan and you give him a surprised look as you lift your head again. “What?”

“Your bed’s so small, baby.” Logan grumbled and you couldn’t help your laugh. The sound made Logan’s chest swell and he chuckled too. “Come to my room, please?” He asked as he caressed your jaw gently.

Still grinning, you shake your head softly as you agree, “Sure, Logan. I’ll see you tonight.” You say and you’re surprised by the way he lifts your chin and kisses you. A gasp leaves your mouth as you realize your classroom door is open and you quickly push back on your chair so you roll away and separate yourself from his lips. “We agreed not in public.” You tell him in a stern tone and he only smirks.

“Please, you liked it.” He says with a wink, not failing to notice the smell of your arousal as he leaves and you sit flustered behind your desk.

You don’t love him, you remind yourself, sighing as you take your reading glasses off and rub your eyes gently with your fingertips.

It took a few months to realize that you did perhaps feel something deeper for him, something more than sexual attraction. The banter between you was always flirty and light hearted, but you were craving to hear something real from him. You wanted to know what was going through his mind the way Jean so easily could, without even having to pry inside his head. You know he offered her his feelings without a second thought.

“What’s wrong with what we’ve got now?” Logan asked, a little taken by your sudden need for more. You had told him in the beginning that this was okay, that this was what you wanted too, something good with no strings. Logan liked you, he truly did, but he just couldn’t seem to give up on the idea of him and Jean. A part of him needed to see it through.

“Logan, I can’t keep doing this if there’s no end goal. I just - I need to know where your head is at with us. Do you still want her? Do you want me? Cause you can’t have both.” You told him in a serious tone.

Logan was sitting against the headboard, looking at you with a solemn look and you wondered if tonight he would finally open up to you, tell you what he felt for you. “What do you want me to say?”

Or perhaps not.

“I want you to make a choice,” Your eyes are watering threateningly, but you refuse to cry over this, over him. “Because if this is all you can offer me, it’s just not enough anymore.” You said in a quiet voice as you stood by the door ready to go back to your room.

To Logan, you had already made your choice when you got up and got dressed. If you didn’t want this anymore, he wasn’t going to keep you here. What he offered wasn’t doing it for you anymore and that’s a choice you made, not him. “If that’s what you want.” He said with a small shrug and you let out sad sigh as he still refused to make a clear decision, always leaving it up to you.

“See you around, Logan.” You said before leaving his bedroom.

A Year Later…

It was awkward at first having to see Logan around the school, but you weren’t some disillusioned little girl. You knew that not all relationships would work out, especially not ones that weren’t exactly official to begin with. You and Logan didn’t have an established relationship, it was just pure fun and out of necessity because you’re still a woman at the end of the day, and he’s a man. It didn’t hurt when you started seeing him and Jean spending more time together. It made you feel more reassured in your decision to end things now that you saw his choice was clear. It made it easier to be friendly, to tease without the whole dance of ‘will we, won’t we?’ but you certainly missed the physical aspect of your odd relationship.

Unfortunately, no one could quite do for you what Logan did in the past. You went on a couple of dates with men, both mutant and non mutant, but they weren’t exactly up to par with what you needed. You wanted someone that could take control, someone that knew exactly what your body responded to, what got you going. Especially now with all of your work piling up on you, your students didn’t care about the material you were so passionate for, it felt like nothing was working out the way you wanted it.

Logan always made you feel better about the bullshit that clogged up your mind, but you doubted he wanted anything like that anymore. Your heeled shoes echoed softly against the wooden floor of the halls and you were painfully aware of how tightly wound and frustrated you felt, and you knew why. Perhaps that’s what you needed. To simply get him out of your system. What was the harm if he didn’t want you and you didn’t want him, it would be a simple collaboration. You knew you weren’t emotionally attracted him, he couldn’t seem to put the effort into being the man you needed in a partner, but he was always a great lay and better friend.

While deep in thought, you found yourself taking the all too familiar path to his bedroom and smiled to yourself as you saw that his door was wide open, as if waiting for you. Logan was moving around inside the room, shirtless and you leaned against his doorframe, biting your lip as you watched him. “Hey there,” He said as he spotted you, smirking as he pulled on a hoodie to sleep in and he looked over at you with a raised brow. His eyes looked over your body in your tight pencil skirt and white button up, your breasts giving those buttons something to do. “Late night?” He asked, walking towards you as you stood in his doorway. You only gave him a small nod. “You okay?” He asked with concern, as if he could read your mind. Logan would never tell you, but he could smell when something was wrong with you and right now you reeked of frustration and…arousal. His eyes searched yours as you shook your head slowly. “What’s wrong?” He asked, touching your arm gently. You placed a hand on his chest, fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie as you let out a sigh.

“I need a favor, and I don’t want you to bring it up ever again after tonight.” You said as you looked back up at him. This was a conversation he had all too eagerly been waiting for and Logan nodded as he watched you with a small smirk while you rolled your eyes at him. “Nevermind.” You said, turning to walk away, but he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you back to him. Your chest was pressed against his as he dipped his head down until his nose brushed against your own.

“Go on, pretty girl, ask me.” He insisted.

A pulse ached in your heart before you built up the courage to breathe out, “It’s a simple favor,” He nodded. “And you can say no.” You reassured him.

“I’m sure I won’t.” He said in a cocky manner and you wanted so badly to smack the arrogant look off his face, but you couldn’t help the bashful grin that stretched your lips as you two were teasing and flirting again. The familiar dance that preceded a mind-blowing, toe-curling night of events.

“I need you.” You whispered, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Logan hated how things ended between the two of you. He hated that you weren’t mad at him because he deserved it, he acted like a jerk. His eyes searched yours and he recognized the look in them, they were veiled with want and he knew he wanted you too. “Is that right?” He asked as he brought you into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Your smile was somewhat triumphant as you sat on the end of his bed and he knelt in front of you, his hands caressing your knees and bare thighs while you held his face in your hands.

“Please.” You purred before kissing him gently.

Logan returned the kiss, eagerly wrapping an arm around your waist so he could press you to his body as he moved further up the bed. “You need me?” You moaned softly against his mouth, nodding as he hooked his fingers into the openings of your blouse and ripped the buttons, the distant clattering of them making you grin. “Fucking missed you.” He sighed as he kissed the tops of your breasts and you ran your fingers through his hair as you head rolled back in pleasure.

“Fuck me, Lo,” You pleaded, undoing the drawstring of his sweats while he groaned against your chest at your eagerness. “Like only you can, baby, please.”

Your words made him eager, riled him up, and he quickly tugged your skirt off with the help of you shimmying your hips out of it. Logan felt his mouth water at the sight of your lace underwear and he ripped it off without a second thought which made you whine with desire. “How do you need it, pretty girl?” He asked with a smirk as he watched you tremble from the way he ran his fingers through your wet folds.

“Give me everything, Logan.”

His mouth latched onto your slit, his tongue probing in your core, feeling the gumminess of your walls and tasting your arousal running down his throat as he ate you out. Your head was spinning from how good it felt, how he still managed to know what got you going after a whole year. Logan’s hands were gripping tightly onto your thighs, keeping them spread apart for himself as he intended to ruin you. “Always tastes so good.” Your body arched up from the pleasure, his teeth nipped at your clit and your eyes stung with hot tears. Two thick fingers slid into you, curled into that spot that made you grip on the sheets while you called his name in ecstasy. “Like that, baby?” He asked and you nodded desperately as he continued finger fucking you while sucking and biting your sensitive bud.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” You gasped, your legs trembling with the force of your release, your juices coated his fingers and his lips and he only continued. “Oh, my god, Logan!” You groaned in approval as he extended your orgasm, mumbled incoherently into your cunt as you indulged in that euphoric feeling you’ve been missing. “Please, fuck me.” You begged, tugging on his biceps to bring him to hover over you. Logan removed his hoodie and sweats while you undid your bra clasp and discarded yourself of your ruined blouse. His eyes stayed attached to yours as he aimed his swollen head into you core and you whined as his thick length entered you slowly, making you feel every inch of him as he split you open.

“Shit,” Logan groaned as he sunk into you, he sat heavy inside your tight core as he pulsed and twitched. “Baby, I missed you.” He breathed out as he rested his forehead against yours, swallowing hard while he felt the way you squeezed him.

You weren’t going to say anything like that, you didn’t want to talk yourself into something that wouldn’t work again. You only moaned in response and kissed him softly as he started thrusting into you, hard and deep. “Just like that, baby.” You praised, one arm hooking around his shoulders and your hand resting over his chest as you made out while he drove himself deep into your pussy. “Oh, yes!” Your eyes watered as he caged you in with his arms on either side of you, grunting against your mouth as he angled his hips into yours with calculated movements.

“Let me feel it, Y/N,” Logan groaned as he was dangerously close to his release. “Wanna make you cum, pretty girl.” He murmured, pulling away from your lips to suck gently on that spot at that base of your neck that made your pussy clench and he only continued to force himself through your contracting walls. “Fuck.”

Your body always gave into him so easily and you felt your lower belly tighten with a pleasurable tension. “‘M so close.” You mewled, tugging on his hair as you rolled your hips against his own, desperately seeking out a release. Logan pinned you down to his bed by your hips and he fucked himself into you, growling as he watched your creamy sheen paint his cock as you orgasmed. The way he could never let you be in control turned you on more than anything. “Sh-shit, Logan!” You cried out as you writhed and trembled underneath him while he emptied his load inside you, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he swore underneath his breath.

The two of you laid quietly for a moment and you sighed shakily as he slowly slid out of you, he watched your face as you bit your lip and your eyebrows scrunched together in pleasure. “Is that what you needed?” He teased, caressing your belly softly and you rolled your eyes playfully while gently pushing on his chest. Logan chuckled and dipped his head down to pepper your neck with kisses while you caressed his broad back. “Stay with me.” He asked, or demanded, dazed from the way you felt around him, reminiscing in the long nights you two shared together in the past.

Your heart ached with guilt and you shook your head. “You know this was a casual thing, right?” You whispered suddenly. Logan pulled away from the crook of your neck and you gave him a sympathetic look. “I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea and I would appreciate it if we just kept this between us.” You said, sitting up as he got off the bed. You forced down the lump in your throat and sighed as you used his sheets to cover yourself. “We’re friends, Logan. We’ll always be good friends.”

Logan wasn’t going to argue, he knew he had messed up his chance with you and so he nodded as he handed you his hoodie and you gave him an appreciative smile. “Right, this was just a favor between friends.” He said with a shrug and you tried to ignore the hurt in his voice as you zipped on his hoodie which fell at your thighs. Logan helped you gather your ruined clothes and you gave him one last kiss as he walked you to his bedroom door.

“Thanks, Logan.” You smiled.

Logan returned your kind smile and he nodded. “Any time.” He winked, making your face warm as you shook your head lightly and grinned at him. Logan watched you go and he sighed to himself knowing he had had the chance to keep you. It was the classic, cliche case of right person, wrong time.

In an angsty mood today, probably because of the hurricane😅

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened @pinkanonwriting

[rabbidbunwy]

A drunk Sukuna in love with you 🫧🍸🥂🫧✧˖°

Contents: Best friend!Sukuna x Best friend!reader,mention of alchol[duh],OOC Sukuna[out of character],reader doesn't recognise Sukuna feelings and takes jokes too far,confession went wrong,angst,mention of throwing up

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

P.s:sorry for the changing in the aesthetic i'm trying to find the right one ;P and please don't harass me for writing a non canon Sukuna,thank you

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia @satorkive @ponderingmoonlight

"You're so clingy when you're drunk" you remark, barely suppressing a smirk as you look at your best friend. He's practically plastered, his body slumped against you like a drunken pile of limbs. You can't help but wonder how he managed to get this wasted.

"You really need to learn how to handle your alcohol, King of Curses" you tease, gently poking at his cheek.

Sukuna, unsurprisingly, scowls, his features twisting into a displeased pout. He lifts his scarlet gaze to meet your amused one, his grip on your waist not budging an inch. "Tch, shut up" he grumbles, his words slurring slightly. "I can handle my alcohol just fine."

The air between you is thick with familiarity and shared history, your banter as natural as breathing. Despite his current state, you can see the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, a rare softness in his usually cold eyes.

"Oh really?" You challenge, your smirk widening into a full-blown grin. "Then why are you clinging to me like a koala right now, hm?" You gently nudge his cheek again, clearly enjoying yourself.

Sukuna lets out a low, almost petulant growl, clearly not appreciating being called out on his current needy behavior. "I'm not clinging" he denies, though his actions belie his words as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, drawing in a deep breath.

You can't help but chuckle at his denial. "Right, because burying your face into my neck and wrapping your arms around me like an octopus is totally not clinging" you tease, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "What,are you in love with your best friend or something?" you laughed. Sukuna immediately snaps his head up at your words, a mixture of surprise and irritation flashing in his scarlet eyes. "W-What!?" he splutters, clearly caught off guard. "In love with you? Don't make me laugh" he huffs, though his face is noticeably more flushed than before.

"Yeah,because if you really loved me that would be disgusting" you joked a bit bitterly giggling waving your hand.

Sukuna stiffens, his grip on your waist tightening involuntarily. Your words cut surprisingly deep, causing his face to tighten and his eyes to darken momentarily. He looks away, a flicker of… something crossing his features. Disbelief? Hurt? Anger? He couldn't put a name to it.

When he speaks, his usual tone is edged, trying to mask the emotions brewing beneath the surface. "Love you? Don't flatter yourself" he sneers. "thats what i'm saying,we will never love eachother,and i don't love your nor i will ever will" you said unconsciously has you sat on the sofa turning on the tv.

Sukuna's heart clenches painfully at your words, an unexpected ache spreading through him. Deep down, a small part of him had hoped… had thought maybe you loved him, even a bit. But no, you just confirmed that it wasn't possible.

He grits his teeth, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "Good" he grumbles, refusing to look at you. "I don't want your love… or anyone's, for that matter. It's useless."

Despite his words, you notice the slight tremor in his voice, a hint of vulnerability that he tries to hide. Sukuna may appear aloof and uncaring most of the time, but behind that rough exterior, he's more sensitive than he'd ever admit.

Leaning back against the sofa, you watch him through the corner of your eye. He's tense, his shoulders tight, and his gaze is fixed on the TV, though you're not sure if he's actually watching or just avoiding looking at you.

The silence between you feels heavy, the air thick with unspoken words. Neither of you speak, the tension palpable. Sukuna's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and conflicting emotions, his heart warring with his pride. He wants to say so much, to confess the true depths of his feelings, but fear and denial hold him back.

He steals a glance at you from the corner of his eye, taking in your profile. You look peaceful, your attention on the TV, completely oblivious to the turmoil inside him. He grits his teeth, torn between the desire to blurt out the words on the tip of his tongue and the ingrained habit of hiding his true feelings behind a facade of indifference.

"Hey" he mutters, his voice gruff and low, almost inaudible over the sound of the TV. "I, uh… need to use the bathroom."

Sukuna stands, swaying a little, and heads towards the bathroom, leaving you alone. As soon as the door closes, he leans heavily against it, his chest heaving as he tries to regain control of his tumultuous emotions.

The silence of the bathroom is deafening. He runs the cold water, splashing some on his face, hoping it'll sober him up and calm his racing heart. But it doesn't work. The image of you, sitting on the sofa, not looking at him, is etched in his mind, fueling the storm inside him.

He grips the edge of the sink, his knuckles turning white. Why does it hurt so much? Why does it sting to hear you say you could never love him?

Sukuna clenches his teeth, anger bubbling up beneath his pain. "It's just the alcohol" he mutters to himself, trying to convince himself that his emotions are just a byproduct of the inebriation. "It's just the alcohol making me think nonsense… feel stupid things."

He looks at himself in the mirror, his reflection blurry through his intoxicated haze. He scowls, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Foolish. You're being foolishly sentimental, King of Curses" he chides himself.

Sukuna clenches his teeth, anger bubbling up beneath his pain. "It's just the alcohol" he mutters to himself, trying to convince himself that his emotions are just a byproduct of the inebriation. "It's just the alcohol making me think nonsense… feel stupid things."

He looks at himself in the mirror, his reflection blurry through his intoxicated haze. He scowls, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Foolish. You're being foolishly sentimental, King of Curses" he chides himself. But no matter how much he berates himself, no matter how much he tries to will the feelings away, the ache in his chest persists. He splashes more water on his face, the coldness doing nothing to soothe the fire inside him.

And then, the sound of a knock on the bathroom door jolts him out of his thoughts.

"Oi, are you okay in there?" Your voice filters through the door, laced with concern. Sukuna freezes, his mind racing. He can't let you see him like this—weak, vulnerable.

"I'm fine" he barks, his tone gruff and defensive. "Just… give me a minute."

There's a moment of silence on the other side of the door before you speak again. "You don't sound fine" you say, your voice softer now. "Let me in."

Sukuna's breath hitches slightly at your words. He's torn—part of him wants you to come in, to see him in his vulnerable state, to know what he's really feeling. But the other, more prideful half, wants to protect himself, to maintain his cool, indifferent facade.

"No" he says firmly, though the word lacks its usual authority. "I don't need your damn help."

"You're being stubborn" you reply, your voice filled with both annoyance and concern. "Just open the door." There's a note of finality in your tone, like you won't take no for an answer.

Sukuna glares at the door, weighing his options. Part of him admires your stubbornness, the other resents it. But he knows he can't keep you at bay forever.

With a frustrated huff, he wrenches the door open, standing there in all his disheveled, drunken glory. He's a mess, but he tries to maintain his usual intimidating glare. "Happy now?" he sneers, crossing his arms across his chest.

You step forward, your eyes roaming over him, taking in his disheveled appearance. There's a flicker of something in your expression—sympathy, maybe?—but it's gone before he can be certain.

"You look like a toddler who hasn't napped all day" you remark dryly, reaching out to gently push some of his unruly hair back into place.

Sukuna flinches at the unexpected touch, his body betraying him by responding to your gentle caress. He glares at you, trying to mask the way his heart skipped a beat. "Don't touch me" he growls, but his voice lacks its usual conviction.

You ignore his protest, continuing to fix his hair. Your fingers are gentle but firm, deftly untangling the knots and setting his locks back in order.

"You need to sober up" you tell him, your tone matter-of-fact. "Sit" you order, pointing at the edge of the bathtub.

Sukuna scowls, but he obeys, albeit reluctantly. He perches on the edge of the bathtub, his arms crossed over his chest. He tries to appear nonchalant, but the effect is somewhat ruined by his obvious lack of balance, the way he sways slightly even sitting down.

"I don't need to sober up" he mutters, more as a matter of principle than anything else.

"You can't even sit straight" you note, your tone a mix of amusement and exasperation. You grab a glass from the sink and fill it with water from the tap.

"Here" you say, holding the glass out to him. "Drink."

Sukuna takes the glass, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, sending a small shiver up his spine. He brings the glass to his lips, taking a few sips, the cool water running down his throat.

He avoids your gaze, his face still set in a scowl, but he can't deny the fact that he does feel a little calmer now.

Then you sighed walking out of the bathroom sitting on the sofa "if you need to throw up hit the toilet"

Sukuna trailed after you, his steps slightly shaky but managing to maintain his trademark swagger. "I don't need you to tell me that" he grumbles, collapsing onto the sofa beside you. He takes a cushion, placing it strategically in his lap.

"I'm not gonna throw up" he insists, though there's a hint of doubt in his voice.

You raise an eyebrow skeptically. "You sure about that?" you say, a hint of amusement in your tone. "You've never been good at holding your alcohol."

You look at him, noticing the way he clenches the cushion in his lap, the tension in his shoulders.

"really,i never saw you acting like this,it's makes you look so stupid-"You were interrupted when Sukuna suddenly threw the pillow,raging, "It's because I fucking love you! don't you understand that?!"

The pillow sails past your face, hitting the wall behind you with a soft thump. Sukuna's shouting startles you, his sudden outburst surprising.

"L-Love…me?" you stutter, unable to hide the shock in your voice. You get up, turning to face him, your mind reeling from his confession.

Sukuna stands, his face flushed, his eyes locked on yours. He looks like a man on the edge, all his usual composure gone, replaced by raw, unfiltered emotion.

"Yes, I… dammit, I love you!" he repeats, his words filled with a desperate ache. "I've loved you for ages, but I… I didn't know how to tell you, how to make you understand…" He steps forward, closing the distance between you, his hands reaching out to grip your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin.

"And tonight, hearing you say that you could never love me… it hurt. It hurt badly. I can't stand it, I can't stand the thought of you never loving me back, of losing you…" He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes pleading.

The room is filled with silence. You look at him, your heart racing, your mind swirling with a million thoughts. Sukuna, your best friend, the powerful Curse, is confessing his love to you. It's a lot to process.

You reach up a hand, gently cupping his cheek, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. He leans into your touch, a needy sound rumbling deep in his chest.

"I…I don't understand" you murmur, your thumb rubbing soothing circles into his cheek. "I thought… we were just best friends."

Sukuna huffs a bitter laugh, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's what I told myself, too" he admits. "I thought I could keep my feelings hidden, that I could just be your friend, that it would be enough… but it's not. It never was."

He steps even closer, his body now mere inches from yours. He towers over you, his presence overwhelming, but there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before.

"You mean everything to me" he whispers, his voice hoarse. "I can't imagine my life without you in it. I don't care if I'm supposed to be a Curse, a fearsome lord… you make me feel human, something I haven't felt in centuries. I want to be with you, no matter what it takes."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, fear, uncertainty, the risk of losing the friendship you'd nurtured for so long. But on the other, there's a flutter of something… hope, happiness, love?

You look at him, taking in his confession, his raw, desperate emotions. A thousand words dance on the tip of your tongue, but what comes out is an uncharacteristic stutter. "I… I don't know what to say…"

"Say you'll give me a chance" he says, his voice low and gravelly. "Say you'll let me prove my love for you. I know I'm not perfect, far from it… but I'll try my damned hardest to make you happy if you just let me."

His grip tightens on your shoulders, his thumbs tracing aimless patterns on your skin.

You chew on your lower lip, the enormity of his words sinking in. It's a lot to take in, a lot to consider.

"And if it doesn't work?" you ask quietly, your voice wavering slightly. "If… if it doesn't work out, what then?"

Sukuna's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of determination in their depths. "It will work" he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I won't accept any alternative. I'll make it work, even if it kills me."

He leans in closer, his face inches from yours. You can feel his warm breath on your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Trust me" he murmurs, his voice a soft, velvety whisper. "Please, just trust me."

He cups your face in his hands, his touch surprisingly tender considering the rough, calloused nature of his palms. His thumbs gently stroke your cheeks, an almost reverent gesture.

His eyes search yours, looking for any hint of refusal, any sign that you're about to push him away. But he finds none. Instead, there's a mixture of emotions there—uncertainty, fear, and yes, there it is, a spark of hope.

Sukuna leans down, slowly, his lips hovering just above yours. "Can I… can I kiss you?" he breathes, the question carrying a world of meaning.

You hold your breath, your mind racing. His lips are so close, mere millimeters from yours. You can almost taste the whiskey on his breath.

In that moment, you make your decision. You nod once, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement.

The permission is all Sukuna needs. He closes the final gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss.

His lips are surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his usually hard, callous demeanor. The kiss is deep, hungry, a mix of desperation and yearning. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, his body molding to yours as though you're meant to fit together like two puzzle pieces.

His hands roam over your back, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on your skin, leaving trails of fire in his wake.

The kiss is intense, consuming, and despite the alcohol clouding both of your judgments, neither of you pull away. His tongue demands entry into your mouth, which you willingly allow, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

His hands tighten on your waist, almost possessively, as though he's afraid you might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight.

He breaks the kiss, coming up for air, his chest heaving against yours. His eyes are darkened, almost feral, as he gazes down at you.

"You taste even better than I imagined" he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "How long have I been waiting to do that…"

[trulyumai]

make that two

—synopsis: yeah, Eddie was down bad. he couldn’t even read a few sentences in before casting his gaze back on you. I mean… could you blame him?

—warnings: none!

—pairings: eddie munson / gf! reader

You sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a hefty textbook while Eddie paced nearby, running a hand through his curly hair.

“Okay, so we need to focus on the themes of existentialism in this novel,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “How about we start with the main character’s struggles?”

Eddie paused mid-pace, his dark eyes drifting toward you. You looked up, and for a moment, the world outside faded. His lips curved into a lazy grin, and you could see the admiration etched in his expression. “Honestly, sweetheart, I think you’re more interesting than this assignment.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, unable to suppress a smile. “Come on, Eddie! We can’t just blow it off. We’ve got to pass this class.”

He sat down beside you, resting his chin on his hand, a teasing spark in his eyes. “Yeah, but look at you! How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re sitting there like the goddess of wisdom?”

You felt your cheeks heat at his compliment. “You’re impossible,” you laughed, nudging him lightly. “Focus, or I’ll start charging you for tutoring sessions.”

Eddie chuckled, leaning closer, his presence warm and comforting. “Alright, fine. Let’s talk about ‘existentialism’ or whatever.” But his gaze remained fixed on you, and it was clear that his mind was elsewhere.

“Eddie,” you said, trying to pull him back to the task at hand. “The themes—”

“Yeah, themes,” he interrupted, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “But seriously, how do you make studying look so good? It’s not fair.”

You tried to stifle a grin, but it was futile. “You’re just saying that to distract me!”

“Guilty as charged,” he said, feigning a dramatic sigh. “But can you blame me? You’re like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day.”

You shook your head, exasperated yet delighted. “Okay, Mr. Munson. Let’s make a deal. If you can stay focused for ten minutes, I’ll reward you with… a kiss.”

Silence ensued. You almost wanted to take the words right back before he bolted up.

His eyes widened, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind. “Ten minutes? That’s a long time in Eddie-world,” he said, puffing out his chest playfully. “But I accept your challenge, fair maiden!”

As you both settled into the assignment, Eddie’s mind wandered again, his gaze drifting back to you. He watched the way you flipped through the pages, the way your hair caught the light, and the soft concentration on your face. It was impossible to focus when you were there, right in front of him, like a muse.

Shit, was he always so.. smitten like this?

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, breaking the silence. “This isn’t working. I’m failing already.”

You giggled, finally meeting his eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But really, I can’t help it. You’ve got this… magnetism. It’s like a spell you’ve cast over me. Wait.. you’re not some warlock are you?!”

Your heart raced at his words. And no matter how much you wanted to laugh, you still grunted out a displeasurable sound. “Eddie, focus! We need to get this done!”

With a dramatic sigh, he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “Fine, I’ll focus. But just know that my thoughts are filled with visions of you. It’s your fault I can’t pay attention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, feeling lighter in his presence. “Alright, one more attempt. Let’s break it down together.”

For the next few minutes, you guided him through the key points of the assignment, his attention wavering but gradually sharpening as you spoke. When you finished, you leaned in closer, a smile on your face. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Not with you around,” Eddie replied, leaning in as well, his eyes sparkling with mischief and admiration. “Now, about that kiss…”

“Eddie!”

….

“…please?”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Him or Me?

LADS Men getting jealous over your latest hyper fixation.

Zayne

Who: Keigo Takami (Hawks) - My Hero Academia & Sanemi Shinazugawa - Demon Slayer

Zayne: You received another package today?

MC: Ahh my figurines!

You tear the box open in excitement while Zayne watches.

Zayne: You have quite a few figures of that red winged character

MC: He's my favorite

Zayne: He's your ... favorite?

MC: My favorite character from my hero academia yes

Zayne: and who is the bug eye'd one?

MC: Don't call him bug eyed

Zayne: Defending him now?

MC: His name is Sanemi he has a bit of a temper but he's really a sweetheart

Zayne: and he's also from your hero show?

MC: No he's from demon slayer

Zayne: Oh

MC: These two are definitely my top 5

Zayne: So there's a list

MC: A mental list

Zayne: Who is on this mental list

MC: Well number one is my red ear'd jealous boyfriend who's trying to hide the fact that he's jealous of these 2D characters

Zayne: I'm not jealous

You stand grabbing your figurines boxes as you move around him heading towards your room to build them.

MC: Sure *Kisses his cheek* jealousy is cute on you but don't worry no one can take me from you

Rafayel

Who: Trafalgar D. Law - One Piece & Itsuomi - A Sign of Affection

MC: Raf have you seen my sketch book?

Rafayel: *Avoiding eye contact* Nope

MC: Did you do something with it?

Rafayel: Nope

MC: Found it. Why was it under the couch?

Rafayel: You're a silly girl with a bad memory

MC: RAF!

Rafayel: What!?

MC: I'm missing like four pages in here!

Rafayel: Have you tried not missing them?

MC: Very funny ... coincidentally its only the sketches of Law & Itsuomi

Rafayel: Why do you need to draw that taffy guy and umami dude? Draw meeeee I'm your boyfriend

MC: I've already drawn you before

Rafayel: I only had one page in your book they each had two that's not fair *pouts*

MC: You're such a baby if I give you a second page can you stop ripping up my hardwork?

Rafayel: Make it four pages and you have a deal

Xavier

Who: Kento Nanami - Jujutsu Kaisen & Vash - Trigun

MC: Xav?

Xavier: yes my love

MC: Would you like to explain what happened to my Nanami plushie?

Xavier: I don't know what you're talking about

MC: He has mysteriously gone missing

Xavier: Are you sure you searched everywhere? You did work sixteen hours yesterday It's common to misplace items when you're tired

MC: I don't know I never move him from the shelf .... have you seen him?

Xavier: I haven't sorry

MC: Interesting ... my phone case with Vash is also missing

Xavier: You seem quite smitten with those two lately do you like them more than me?

MC: Xavier they're 2D animations they'll never be better than you

Xavier: Promise?

MC: I put it on my pinky

Xavier: 🥰

MC: Can I have my phone case and plushie now?

Xavier: Absolutely not

Sylus

Who: Sung Jinwoo - Solo Leveling & Shinichiro Sano - Tokyo Revengers

Sylus: What's so great about that show that you need to go to four different stores to get the entire book collection?

MC: I tried to get you to watch Solo Leveling with me

Sylus: I'm a busy man princess

MC: I think you'd really like it Jinwoo looks like a cinnamon roll and is a cinnamon roll but could still kill you

Sylus: Are you implying that me and this 2D man are similar?

MC: Hell no you look like you can kill and could kill ... you're only a cinnamon roll for me

Sylus: How perceptive ... and what book is that

MC: It's a manga get it right ... its Tokyo Revengers I'm still waiting on the next season but I need to know what happens because I need to see Shinichiro

Sylus: Who is Shin and why do you need to see him eat a cheerio?

MC: Not Shin eat a cheerio ... Shinichiro Sano aka the weak king

Sylus: How can you be a king and be weak?

MC: Those around you are strong

Sylus: Sounds like a kingdom waiting to fall ... are you almost done?

MC: What's with the curt tone?

Sylus: No reason we just have dinner reservations soon princess

MC: That's in five hours

Sylus: *Grabs the stack of books from MCs hands* My how time flies lets go

[pickingupmymercedes]

Can't check out - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

request: "yn and Lewis are secretly dating and yn works in Mercedes, they have an argument and after work yn doesn’t go to his room to sleep, but goes to hers, and Lewis gets even madder and goes to her room, and then you know what happens" - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, angry sex

Wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +4k

a/n: I've had this one half written for a bit but couldn't quite get the switch right, the past two gp's were perfect for it though. Hope you like lovely.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

The door to the engineering room slid open with a soft hiss, and Lewis stepped inside, still carrying the frustration from the debrief. His hand firmly grasped on his phone as his eyes searched the dimly lit space.

Rows of desks and computer screens cast a pale glow over the one engineer still hunched over her workstation—Y/n, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her, fingers dancing over the keyboard.

“Y/n,” Lewis called, his voice low, almost casual, as he approached her station.

She didn’t look up, her focus entirely on the screen. Her jaw was set, brows furrowed in concentration.

Anyone could see the stress in the tightness of her shoulders, the way her fingers moved like they had something to prove.

“Y/n,” he said again, this time with more insistence as he stopped by her desk. “You’ve been here all night. Come with me. Let’s grab something to eat.”

“Can’t, Lewis” she muttered, still not sparing him a glance. “I’m in the middle of something”

Lewis sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn’t in the mood for this, not after the nightmare of Baku and now Singapore. The car still nowhere near where it needed to be.

He could tell she was taking it personally, that the car’s performance was something she couldn’t separate from her own self-worth, but it was eating her alive.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for hours” he said, his voice softening just a fraction. “Come on, take a break. You’ll think better after some food.”

Finally, Y/n looked up, and her eyes were burning with irritation. “You think this is about ‘taking a break’? Really?” Her voice sharper than he expected.

He frowned, caught off guard. “I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying,” she cut him off, standing up and folding her arms across her chest. “You think it’ll be fine if I take break because you’re just fine coasting through this weekend. But I can’t afford to do that, Lewis.”

“Coasting?” His tone hardened, the frustration he’d been pushing down starting to come up. “You think I’m coasting through this?”

She stepped closer, eyes flashing as she met his gaze. “Aren’t you? I heard what you said in that interview today. You’ve already given up on this weekend. Hell, you’ve probably already given up on this team.”

His jaw clenched. “Y/n”

“I know you’ve got your perfect seat at Ferrari next year,” she snapped, her voice rising, “but I need this job to work for me, Lewis. I can’t just check out.”

Lewis’s face hardened, the weight of her words settling heavily between them. She’d always been the one to back him up, to understand when things were tough.

“You really think that’s what I’m doing?” His voice was quieter now, but there was a simmering anger underneath it. “You think I’m just here, going through the motions, like none of this matters to me?”

Y/n’s expression didn’t waver. “You’re not the one whose career is tied to this car’s performance.”

Lewis stepped back, running a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. “You think I don’t care about the car? About this team?” His voice was tight, but controlled. “You’ve no idea how much pressure I’m under. But sure, keep assuming I’m checked out because I’m not losing my mind over it.”

She didn’t answer, the tension between them suffocating.

“I’ll be at the hotel,” he finally said, voice flat. “I’ll wait for you, if you decide to actually talk instead of throw knives.”

Y/n stood there, staring at the door long after he’d gone, her heart racing, frustration still boiling under her skin.

She hated that he’d gotten to her, but she hated even more that she knew she had messed up.

The soft ping of her phone snapped her out of her trance. Yet another message from Lewis.

Where are you?

It was nearly 2 a.m., and Y/n was now in her own hotel room, but still working.

Her eyes burned from hours of staring at data, her body aching from the tension she carried in her shoulders. She knew she should have stopped hours ago, that the night races in Singapore didn’t excuse her pushing herself this far, but she couldn’t help it.

The car was nowhere, and every setup she ran through still led them in circles.

She ignored the message, her fingers pressing harder into the keyboard, trying to drown out the gnawing frustration.

There were moments where she could forget that outside these numbers, setups, and telemetry, there was more—her life, her relationship with Lewis, her sanity. But tonight, wasn’t one of those moments.

His earlier words still lingered in her mind like a bad taste.

"Coasting through the weekend," she muttered bitterly to herself.

Another ping. She looked at her phone for a second and then shoved it back into her pocket. She wasn’t ready to talk to him. Not that night, at least.

Time passed in a blur, the numbers on her screen blending together until her concentration wavered, exhaustion settling in.

2:45 a.m. A knock at the door.

Her heart sank. She knew exactly who it was.

Y/n slowly walked to the door and opened it, revealing a very irritated and slightly disheveled Lewis.

He was dressed in his sweats, his face drawn with concern and annoyance. His eyes scanned her face, clearly taking in her exhaustion.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice flat.

Lewis crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

“Busy. What do you want?”

He stepped closer; the frustration evident in his posture. “You’re busy? It’s almost three in the morning, Y/n.”

She shrugged, keeping her voice cold. “I don’t have the luxury of clocking out when things don’t go well.”

Lewis’s eyes narrowed. “Not this again, Y/n”

Y/n crossed her arms, mirroring his stance. “I think you don’t get it, Lewis. You’re already halfway out the door. Ferrari’s waiting for you, and you’re just counting the days. I’m the one who’s stuck here trying to figure out how to make this work.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You really think I don’t care about what’s happening?”

“I think you’re putting your feelings ahead of everything else,” she shot back, the words laced with bitterness. “I’m out there trying to make something of this car, and you—” She gestured at him, frustrated by his calm demeanor. “You’re here playing the ‘it’ll be fine’ card. It’s not fine, Lewis. It’s a disaster.”

Lewis’s gaze darkened, his voice steady but firm. “I never said it was fine.”

“Might as well have,” she retorted. “You think I don’t see it? The way you’re handling things, pretending it doesn’t affect you, when deep down, you’ve already checked out.”

His expression shifted, the cool, nonchalant mask cracking just slightly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Y/n scoffed, feeling the anger bubble up inside her. She wanted to hurt him the way she was hurting.

“What happened to the guy who fought for every inch on track, the one who wouldn’t rest until everything was perfect? Now you’re here, telling me to relax, to take it easy. It’s bullshit, Lewis.”

Lewis stared at her, his silence only fueling her frustration. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a mocking tone.

“Where’s the cutthroat guy who would have had me pinned to the wall by now? Instead, I’ve got this—” she waved her hand at him dismissively, “mushy, emotional guy in front of me, trying to make me ‘feel better’.”

Something shifted in Lewis’s eyes, and for a moment, she regretted saying it. His gaze hardened, his jaw clenched, and the tension in the air changed.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he said, his voice low. He was danger.

But Y/n wasn’t backing down now. She wanted to push him, to make him snap, to break through that controlled, calm mark. “Oh, I absolutely do” she shot back, her chin tilting up defiantly.

Lewis’s eyes flickered with something possessive, and in an instant, he closed the distance between them.

His hand shot out, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers dug into her skin, his grip firm and unmistakably dominant.

“You think you want that?” he murmured; his breath hot against her ear. “You think you want the guy who doesn’t give a damn? Be careful what you wish for.”

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, her body reacting to the sudden intensity between them, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her back down.

“Show me” she whispered, her voice steady, though her pulse raced. “Show me you still give a damn.”

And that was all it took.

The last thread of Lewis’s restraint snapped, and before she could even blink, he had her pinned against the narrow table in the small entryway to her bedroom, his hands gripping her wrists, his body pressing into hers with a force that left no room for doubt.

His breath was hot against her neck. His body pressed her into the hard surface, and Y/n could feel the tension in every inch of him—the controlled anger, the dominance she’d just provoked, and the raw desire that lay beneath it all.

She felt the dominance it in the way his hands moved—fast, precise, as if he’d already decided she wasn’t ever in control.

His grip on her wrists loosened for just a second before his hands slid down her body, one hand slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing the soft skin of her stomach.

His touch was rough but deliberate, and she gasped at the sensation, already anticipating what was coming next.

Lewis’s other hand hooked around her waist, pulling her hips back into him, his body pinning her even harder against the table. “You want this?” he murmured into her ear, his lips brushing the shell of it “You want me to stop being soft?”

She barely had a second to catch her breath before his hand slipped lower, under the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

His fingers found their way instantly, brushing over her clit in a way that made her hips buck against him involuntarily.

“Lewis—” She started to say something, but he cut her off.

“Don’t even think about it” he growled, his fingers working with slow, maddening precision. “You don’t get to talk. Not now.”

Her breath hitched as he continued to tease her, the pressure of his fingers circling her clit increasing just enough to drive her crazy, but not enough to push her over the edge.

He was keeping her on a leash, and it was driving her insane.

“You think I don’t give a damn?” Lewis’s voice was rough, a contrast to the torturously slow rhythm of his fingers. “Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to remind you?”

Her legs trembled as he worked her over, her body arching into him despite the way he had her pinned to the table.

She was already close, too close, and she knew it. She could feel the tension building inside her, the heat pooling in her stomach, the familiar rush of pleasure that came before she—

But just as she just about reached the edge, he pulled back, his fingers leaving her completely.

Y/n gasped in frustration, her body shaking from the sudden denial. “Lewis!” Her voice cracked, but he wasn’t having it.

“You don’t get to come yet” he said, his voice firm, unrelenting.

She was panting, her body already strung so tight it hurt, but before she could protest, Lewis flipped her around, pressing her back into the wall.

His eyes were dark, his expression hard as he lifted her to place her effortlessly onto the edge of the small desk.

Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively and his hands found her hips, holding her in place as he leaned in, his lips crashing into hers. The kiss was rough, all teeth, his frustration matching hers as their bodies clashed against each other.

But he was still in control, and Y/n knew it. She could feel it in the way he held her, the way his hands moved as if he knew exactly how close he was driving her, how close he was to breaking her down.

He pulled back from the kiss, his breath heavy against her lips. “You don’t get to have it easy” he murmured. “Not after all the shit you said.”

His lips were on her neck then, trailing rough kisses down to her collarbone, his hands sliding under her shirt to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, the sensation sending another jolt of heat and Y/n’s head fell back against the wall, her lips parting in a shaky moan.

And Lewis wasn’t even close to being done with the torture.

His mouth moved lower, kissing his way down her stomach until he was on his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wide for him. He pulled her pajama bottoms down, discarding them somewhere behind him before his lips found the inside of her thigh, biting down gently on the sensitive skin.

Y/n’s body jerked in response, the anticipation nearly killing her as his lips moved higher, closer to where she needed him

“Please, Lew” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he parted her with his fingers, his mouth finally descending on her clit.

The sensation was electric, his tongue circling her slowly. Y/n’s hips kept on buckling involuntarily, her fingers tangling in his shirt as she moaned, unable to hold back the sound.

Lewis took his time, licking and sucking in a way that drove her to the edge all over again.

She felt it building, her body shaking as she neared the point of no return, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

And just when she thought she was about to fall over the edge, he stopped, again.

“Fuck!” she cried out, her hands tugging at the wood in frustration, but he didn’t relent.

“Not yet” was all he said, his voice hoarse as he looked up at her, his lips glistening.

She was a trembling mess, her body desperate for release, but Lewis wasn’t giving it to her. He stood up, towering over her as she panted, her chest heaving from the intensity of it all.

“Bed” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Y/n stumbled off the desk, her legs shaky as she moved without questioning toward the bed, Lewis right behind her.

He grabbed her waist, pushing her down onto the mattress, his body covering hers as he kissed her again, rough and demanding.

His fingers slid between her legs once more, finding her dripping, and he smirked against her lips. “You think you can take one more?” he asked, his voice mocking as he teased her, his fingers sliding inside her just enough to make her hips jerk.

“I can’t” she gasped, her body completely overwhelmed.

“Too bad” he growled, his lips brushing against her ear. “You don’t get to say when this is over.”

His fingers worked her over once more, slow and purposeful, pushing her to the brink for the third time.

Her body was shaking, every nerve on fire as she begged him, her words slurring in a desperate plea.

“Lewis. Please, I need—”

Finally, when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he let her go.

Y/n’s orgasm hit her in waves, her body convulsing as she cried out, her nails digging into his back as she came hard, trembling uncontrollably beneath him.

He didn’t stop though, his fingers still working her as she rode out the intense release, her vision going white from the force of it.

And when it was over, when her body had finally stopped shaking, she was a wreck, panting and boneless beneath him.

Lewis leaned over her, his lips brushing against her ear. “You still want more?” he asked, his voice dark and teasing.

Y/n was barely coherent, her mind fogged with pleasure, but she managed a weak smirk and chuckle.

Lewis growled low in his throat, flipping her onto her stomach. “Of course, you do.”

Lewis didn’t waste a second, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her up onto her knees.

Y/n’s face was pressed into the mattress, her breath still ragged, but she managed to turn her head slightly, catching a glimpse of him behind her, his chest heaving.

“Arch your back, love” he commanded, a low rumble.

Her body, still trembling, responded instinctively. She pushed her hips up, her back arching as she spread her knees wider.

She could feel the cool air on her slick skin, and her body ached with the need to be filled, to have him finally inside her.

But Lewis wasn’t in any rush.

His hands caressed her ass, rough palms running over the soft skin as he admired the way she trembled beneath him. She felt the unmistakable teasing of him collecting her juice with the tip of his dick.

Then, without warning, he brought his hand down sharply against her ass, the loud smack echoing in the room.

The sting was immediate. Y/n gasped, her body jolting forward as her muscles clenched in response.

Lewis chuckled darkly, leaning over her, his chest pressing into her back. “You like that, don’t you?” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

Y/n moaned, her fingers curling into the sheets as she tried to steady herself. “Fuck you” she breathed out, though the defiance was weak, barely a whisper.

Lewis laughed again, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he positioned himself behind her. “Oh, you will.”

And then, without another word, he thrust into her, filling her completely at once.

Y/n let out a loud cry, her body arching even more at the sudden invasion.

He was deep, too deep, and for a moment, all she could do was gasp for air, her hands gripping the sheets as he stayed still.

“Fuck,” Lewis groaned, his voice strained as he gripped her hips harder, his fingers digging into her skin. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Y/n couldn’t form words, couldn’t even think straight as her body struggled to accommodate the overwhelming fullness.

But then he started to move, pulling out just enough before slamming back into her, setting a brutal pace that left her not only wordless but breathless.

With each thrust the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Y/n’s moans mixed with his grunts, her body rocking forward with the movements of his hips.

Lewis was relentless, pounding into her with a force that left her dizzy. His hands moved up her back, fingers tangling in her shirt as he pulled her head back, forcing her to arch even more.

Her face was buried in the pillow, muffling her moans, but Lewis wasn’t having that.

“Let me hear you,” he growled, his hand tightening as he yanked her head back, exposing her neck. “I want to hear every fucking sound you make.”

Y/n cried out, her voice raw as he hit a spot deep inside her that made her entire body shake.

Her walls clenched around him involuntarily, the intensity of it all too much, but she couldn’t stop it. Every thrust got her closer to the edge, and she could feel it building again.

When she was almost seeing starts and her walls kept on clenching around him, he pulled out of her, leaving her trembling and empty.

Y/n let out a whimper of protest, her body aching for him to fill her again.

“Turn over,” he ordered, his voice firm, commanding.

Y/n, barely able to move, managed to roll onto her side, her body weak and shaking from the force of it all. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

Lewis didn’t waste time. He grabbed her leg, pulling it up over his arms as he positioned himself between her half-closed thighs.

His eyes locked onto hers, the intensity in his gaze making her stomach flip.

“You still think I don’t give a damn?” he asked, his voice rough, almost taunting as he pushed into her again, filling her completely.

Y/n’s head fell back against the pillow, a loud moan escaping her lips as he thrust into her at a new angle, hitting that spot deep inside her that made her breath hitch.

His hands held on to her ankle, and the way he was angled was driving her crazy, his hips slamming into her ass with an unrelenting force.

“Lewis—fuck—” she gasped, her hands clawing at his arms as he leaned over her, pressing his body into her side as he fucked her hard, each thrust pushing her closer to the brink.

Her moans were uncontrollable now, her body completely at his mercy as he pounded into her. She could feel the tension building again, the heat coiling in her stomach, but this time, she knew he wasn’t going to stop.

He wasn’t going to deny her. Not again.

Lewis’s eyes were locked on her face, watching every twitch, every moan, every breathless gasp as he took her apart. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice strained with exertion.

She couldn’t respond, her mind too fogged with pleasure, her body too overwhelmed. But her hands reached up, grabbing onto his neck, pulling him down to kiss her.

It was messy, but it didn’t matter. They were both too far gone to care.

Lewis groaned into her mouth, his thrusts becoming more erratic, harder, as if he was losing control. Y/n’s nails dug into his skin, her body trembling as she felt herself teetering on the edge.

“I’m so close,” she gasped against his lips, her voice barely coherent.

“I know, love” Lewis growled, his breath hot against her mouth. “Come for me. I want to feel you.”

With one final thrust, she spiraled, her body convulsing under him as her orgasm ripped through her, more intense than the ones before.

Y/n’s body arched off the bed towards his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders as she cried out, her walls clenching around him.

Lewis couldn’t keep himself for far too long. The way she tightened around him pushed him over the brink, and with a deep, guttural moan, he only had time to pull out, spilling himself over her ass, his body shaking with the force of his release.

For a moment, neither of them moved, their bodies spent and trembling, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Lewis then collapsed beside her, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Y/n lay there, completely wrecked, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her only movement was her hand stroking his arm, her mind too fogged with him to think straight.

But then Lewis’s hand was on her cheek, gently caressing her skin, and she turned her head to look at him.

His expression had softened, the intensity of before replaced with something tender, affectionate.

“Relax,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over her lips. “I’ll take care of you.”

Y/n’s heart swelled at the softness in his voice, and she nodded, too tired to speak.

She watched as Lewis got up, disappearing into the bathroom before returning with a towel. He cleaned her up carefully, his touch gentle, his gaze focused solely on her.

When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and climbed back into bed, pulling her into his arms.

Lewis gently stroked her cheek as she lay against him, her breathing still uneven, though now from exhaustion rather than anything else.

His thumb brushed over her lips, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead softly, letting out a deep, contented sigh.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice tender.

Y/n nodded, her body limp as she sank into the comfort of his chest. "Just tired."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "You sure you don’t want to sleep?" His hand ran soothingly over her arm, drawing lazy patterns on her skin as he held her closer.

She shook her head lightly. "Not yet. My mind’s still buzzing." Her voice was soft, a little hoarse, but she didn’t regret a second of it.

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and comforting. "Well, let’s calm that buzzing down." He reached for the phone by the bedside, quickly ordering pasta for the both of them. "Have you eaten at all?"

Y/n smiled faintly; her eyes half-closed. "So now you care?"

Lewis arched an eyebrow, lifting her chin so her gaze met his. "Always did, babe." His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, his gaze soft but serious. "I know it’s been tough, and I know I’ve been a prick sometimes… but I do care. About you. About your career. All Mercedes."

Her lips curved into a small smile, her exhaustion making her emotions raw. "I know. I’m sorry for what I said"

"I meant what I said earlier—you’ve gotta find to take care of yourself. It’s not all on your shoulders." he pushed, brushing his thumb across her face.

She closed her eyes, her body relaxing into his touch. "Yeah, maybe you’re right."

He laughed softly. "I’m always right." He kissed the top of her head. "And if it takes rough sex to get you out of your own head… well, I’m happy to help."

Y/n snorted; her face buried in his chest. "Really, Lewis? Really?"

“I care about you, okay?” he said quietly, almost hesitant, as if the vulnerability was something new.

Y/n nodded against his chest, her eyes already closing as the exhaustion overtook her. She was too tired to speak, but she knew. Deep down, she had always known.

______________________________________________________________

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[activesplooger]

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: (MDNI) hi so im a liar LOL. i said it was gonna be little bullet points but here I am with 3 whole ass stories just formatted with bullet points!!! budwfiwfiowjedfiwe enjoy

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Fluffy scenarios with Alastor: Coming home drunk, Dancing, and Getting Sick.

𝐂𝐖: fluff <3

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭!

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤:

You had a few too many one night during a friend's birthday party. Beforehand, you told Alastor things may run a little late into the day (as these events tend to usually go), so he expected you to be home later in the night

But what he didn’t expect was for you to come waltzing in at 2 am drunk off your ass.

Fumbling drunkenly with your keys, you manage to unlock the door to your and Alastor's room. The room is dimly lit as you walk in, gripping onto any furniture you can to keep you stable as you move.

As you go inside the room, a bright light emanates from the bedroom area. Curiously, you walk toward it.

"Alllllyyyy?" you call out in a sing-songy tone.

Reaching the bedroom, Alastor is seen sitting under the covers reading a book with a reading lamp clipped onto it.

He looks up at you and promptly closes his book, "Ah, there you are my dear!"

His eyes rake over your disheveled and intoxicated state, an eyebrow quirking up as his eyes meet yours, "I see you had a fun time..."

Honestly, you're too drunk to even pay attention to what he's saying. Your mind was elsewhere as he spoke, a sudden mischievous idea coming to mind.

A big dopey grin spreads across your face with glazed-over eyes.

"What's that look for darli-"

You cut him off and suddenly tackle him on the bed, a small "Oof!" coming from him as you land on him.

He sets his book on the nightstand and wraps his arms around you, pulling you up on him a bit more so you're laying on his chest

You start to doze off as you lay against him, the soft material of his pajamas relaxing you.

Alastor notices you nodding off and speaks, "No, no, let's get you out of these."

He tugs at the material of your shirt, "This is anything but proper sleepwear, is it, my dear?"

You grumble an 'okay' and kick off your heels somewhere off the bed

He helps you undress to your bra and underwear, keeping you laid on top as he does so

Alastor pulls the comforter over the two of you and holds you tighter against him, an almost possessive hold on you

"So," he begins, "your friend's little get-together was fun?"

"Mmmm yeah," you drowsily respond

"Good," Alastor kisses the top of your head, "I'm glad you had fun."

The next morning, you wake up with a throbbing headache. Your head is laid on Alastor's lap. Tilting your head up, you see Alastor sipping some coffee out of a red mug with the words 'Oh Deer' painted on it

"Ah, you're awake!" he says cheerfully, setting his mug down and grabbing a water and aspirin off the nightstand, "Here, take these."

You groan and bury your face back into his lap, you didn't have the energy to move

Sighing, he grabs your chin and gently lifts your head up.

Alastor then feeds you the aspirin in water, guiding you so you didn't accidentally choke

Once swallowed, he cradles your face, "Let me know if you need anything else, alright?"

"Alright"

He kisses your forehead and resumes cuddling you, enjoying the early morning and assisting you on whatever you needed

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠:

Tonight, Alastor was going to be taking you out!

He had instructed you to dress nicely since he'd be taking you out to a fancy place, though he didn't reveal exactly where. It was a surprise, how exciting!

You giddily get ready, putting on a new dress and your nicest pair of heels.

Putting the final touches onto your outfit, you head out into the lobby where the two of you agreed to meet

As you walk into the lobby, you see Alastor standing idly, glancing at the time on his pocket watch

The sound of your heels clicking against alerts him of your presence. His gaze meets yours as you walk toward him, quickly stuffing his watch into his pocket.

Alastor's ears perk up as he looks at you, his smile widening, "Mon cher, you look marvelous..."

Stopping in front of him, you do a little spin to show your whole outfit, his eyes raking over every inch of you

"New dress?" he asks

"Mhm, you like it?"

"Like it?" he grasps your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and placing a kiss on your knuckles "My dear, I love it."

"Soo, do I get to know where you're taking me now?"

"Nope! Nice try, darling."

The two of you grab a taxi and head to the mystery location. Despite your attempts to wear him down until he told you where you were going, Alastor didn't give in one bit.

The taxi eventually stops and Alastor gets out to open the car door for you

Stepping out, you see a large building with the faint sound of jazz music being heard from it.

"Ohh, a jazz club?"

Alastor nods, "That's right, my dear! A very nice one, might I add, the nicest in this ring of hell!"

You smile at his enthusiasm, flattered that he wants to take you somewhere as special as this. "Lead the way, my love," you say as you take his arm.

Alastor happily leads you into the club. The club was loud, bustling with various other demons who were dancing, drinking, and singing.

Alastor leads you to a booth and promptly orders you and himself a drink

The waiter jots down the order and comes back a few minutes later with two drinks

You both sip your drinks, chatting as you do so. As you chat, you notice his eyes occasionally darting off to the side at the dance floor. The first few times, you don't think much of it, but after a while, you start to catch on.

"You wanna dance?" you suggest

"Oh thank heavens, I've been waiting for you to suggest that since we stepped in!" he reveals

He jolts up from his seat and grabs hold of your hand, practically dragging you as he rushes over to the dance floor

Alastor wastes no time with this, quickly leading you into a swing danced that matched the fast pace of the music

You quickly lose your footing as you weren't actually ready for the advanced moves Alastor was pulling

He takes notice of this and chuckles. "Oh dear, you're about as light on your feet as an elephant!" he teases

"Hush!" you say defensively, a bit sheepish that you couldn't dance well

"Now now, no need to get defensive, just follow my lead."

Alastor slows down the pace, guiding you through the movements one at a time

You repeat this until you start to get the hang of it, pace quickening as your confidence grows

"That's it," he encourages with a bright smile, "you're a natural!"

He spins you around a few times as the song comes to an end

As the final note of the song plays, he dips you. His hands grip your waist in a firm hold, your arms around his neck as he holds you tight

The two of you kiss, tender lips meeting yours in a passionate embrace

Pulling back, your forehead rests against his, "Thanks for taking me out, love..."

"Of course! Anything for the woman I love."

"I love you," you say softly

"I love you more."

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤

The past few days, you've been feeling quite under the weather. However, you brushed it off as a simple cold to not worry Alastor, and still go to work.

Unfortunately, your "cold" had escalated to the point where your poker face couldn't hide how you were feeling. You felt (and looked) awful. Fever, chills, nausea, the whole package.

You wake up with possibly the worst headache you've ever had in your life. But, you relentlessly carry on.

You untangle yourself from Alastor's embrace carefully so you don't wake him up. If he woke up, you know he would immediately be able to tell that you're sick and make sure you wouldn't have to lift a finger.

But alas, you're a workaholic, and there was no way you're letting a "cold" get in the way of your plans! So, you take an Advil and try to push through.

You tip-toe to the bathroom, careful as to make as little noise as possible.

Honestly, you could care less about how you looked right now. You slathered on some makeup haphazardly and threw on whatever outfit that was deemed 'presentable enough' for work.

Hurriedly, you grab your keys and purse, stuffing a few Tylenol in your bag for later.

And just as you're about to make your great escape, you feel large hands gently grip your waist. Ah, shit, you were caught.

Alastor nuzzles your neck, his voice muffled as he speaks, "Leaving so soon?"

"U-Uh yeah," you stammer, trying to hide the nasally sound of your voice, "gotta get to work so- See ya!". You attempt to walk away, but his grip tightens on you and prevents you from leaving

"Ah ah ah, not without a kiss goodbye, my dear. Have you no manners?" he teases, lifting his head from your neck to look at you

Your head jerks away as to not meet his gaze if he saw you your cover would be blown!

His smile twitches, he knows something's up. Alastor's hand releases from your hip and grasps your chin, forcefully turning your head to look at him.

His eyes widen as he looks at you, concern evident on his face, "Something you wanna tell me, darling?".

"No..." you mutter.

Alastor gives you a 'cut the crap' look, and you finally give in, "Okay, okay, I may be a little tiny eensy bit sick...".

He releases you from his grip, exhaling softly, "That's what I thought. Now, go change into something comfortable and get back in bed."

"But-"

"No buts, darling," he says, walking towards the kitchen.

You huff as you begrudgingly change into some pajamas. Climbing in bed, you snuggle yourself into the comfy blankets and watch Alastor grabbing various items from the other rooms.

He comes back in after a few minutes and sets down some medicine, tea, and makeup wipes beside you on the bed.

Alastor opens the makeup wipes and gently removes the makeup from your face, "I'm just want to ensure you're fully relaxed, dear. Don't think of this as a punishment."

"I know I know... I just don't like being unproductive."

He sighs and discards the makeup wipe, "I understand, but you're in no condition to be out and about."

Alastor grabs a pill bottle before asking, "Did you already take some medicine?"

"I took an Advil" you reply.

Alastor glances at the clock on the wall, "Alright then, I'll give you another in about 5 hours."

You nod as he sets the tea on the nightstand beside you. He moves over to the empty space next to you on the bed and spoons you from behind. His arm wraps around your waist, legs tangling with yours.

"Ally, don't, you're going to get sick-" you protest.

He huffs, almost offended at the notion, "I don't care if I get sick, that's not going to stop me from being close to you

Alastor spends the rest of the day nurturing you, being by your side for whatever you may need or want

--

ENJOY!!! guys sos i genuinely can't tell the difference between fluff and just like situations ig LOL. im trying to work on my fluffy skills

btw im having a bit of a mental crisis soooo.... i may be posting a lot. i tend to write more and generally be online more (def not shutting down I swear!!) when im not doing too great. so yeah.

[domm1etae]

in every shape

mingi x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

2.3k

Mingi’s gained some weight since the tour began, and he’s struggling with his body image. But to you, he’s never looked better, and you can’t resist showing him just how irresistible he really is

nsfw tags under

f/m, top mingi, pet names, i love yous, praises, body worship, oral sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, teasing, size kink, multiple orgasms, neck kissing

Mingi stood in front of the hotel room mirror, eyes roaming over his reflection, his shoulders slumping slightly. He was quiet, but you could sense the tension radiating off him. After a moment, he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

"I need to lose weight."

You perked up from where you were lounging on the bed, pretending you hadn’t heard his whispered confession. "Hmm? What did you say?" Your voice was gentle, curious, hoping he’d say it again, though the truth behind his words already tugged at your heart.

He hesitated, biting his lip as he turned to glance at you, his expression a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "I said…" He exhaled sharply. "I need to lose weight." His hand swept over his body as if emphasizing the problem, a soft growl of irritation escaping him. "I don’t know how I let myself get like this. I didn’t even realize…"

You sat up on the bed, your gaze soft as you crawled to the edge and reached for him, your fingers toying with the hem of his oversized shirt. "Get like what, Mingi? Like you don’t look absolutely delicious?" A teasing grin played on your lips, hoping to ease the tension building in his mind.

He scoffed, but it lacked conviction, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I’ve gained weight, babe. I mean, look at me." He waved a hand down his body in frustration. "I’m not in shape like I was before the tour. I just—" He sighed again, cutting himself off, clearly struggling to find the right words.

You shake your head at him, your heart aching a little at his self-doubt. Pulling at the fabric of his shirt, you expose a sliver of his skin. "Oh, I’m looking, trust me." You raise an eyebrow at him, slowly kissing the exposed skin. "And what I see is a man who looks damn good."

His body stiffened slightly at your touch, his breath catching. "Sexy?" he echoed, disbelief written all over his face. "I don't think that's the word you’re looking for. I’ve been eating too much, barely working out… I don’t feel like myself anymore."

You sit back a little, taking in the sight of him. He had filled out a bit, his broad frame looking a little softer, his thighs thicker, and his stomach no longer as flat as it once was. But he still looked amazing to you, more than amazing. "Mingi, you’re still so damn sexy. You look healthy. Honestly, I don’t even think you realize how much harder it is for me to keep my hands off you."

He snorted lightly, shaking his head. "Healthy? I feel heavy. I hate it."

You tug his shirt up a little higher, planting a few more kisses along his belly. "Heavy, maybe. But heavy can be hot, and you? You’re making it very hot." Your voice lowered into a sultry purr as your lips lingered on his skin.

He seemed to hesitate, torn between what he saw in the mirror and what you were saying. "You’re just saying that to make me feel better…" His fingers brushed through your hair, his tone soft but uncertain.

You hummed in response, your hands sliding up his thighs. "Oh no, I’m not. Trust me, I’m saying this because I can’t stop thinking about how good you look right now. I’ve been trying to keep my hands to myself, but…" You give his hips a gentle tug, pulling him closer. "Why should I when you look this damn good?"

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to argue, but when your lips trailed down to his waistband, the words seemed to slip from his mind. He watched you, his breathing growing heavier, but he couldn’t help one last protest. "I don’t… understand why you think this is attractive."

You pull back slightly and meet his gaze, your eyes filled with sincerity. "Because, Mingi, you're more than just some perfectly sculpted figure. You look strong, healthy, like you’re actually taking care of yourself. I love this… I love you, no matter what you think of yourself." You smiled up at him, pressing one more kiss to his stomach. "You’re sexy just as you are, but if you want to lose weight, that’s your choice. I’m just saying… I like you this way."

His face softened, though the doubt still lingered in his expression. "You really mean that?"

"Every word," you answer, pulling him towards you until he was close enough for you to wrap your arms around his waist. "Now come here. Let me show you how much I love this body of yours."

He let out a soft, surprised laugh as you began tugging at his waistband, a mix of uncertainty and curiosity in his eyes as you unbuttoned his jeans. "Y-you don’t have to do this…"

You shook your head, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, but I want to." Mingi’s breath hitched as you slid his jeans down his hips, revealing the hard lines of his thighs. He shifted awkwardly, unsure of how to react. His fingers twitched as he stared down at you, still hesitant despite the heat building between you.

"You know you drive me crazy, right?" you say softly, trailing your hands over the firm muscles of his thighs. "I’m not doing this to make you feel better. I’m doing this because I want to. You look so damn good, and I’ve missed you."

Mingi let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his muscles visibly relaxing as your words sank in. He still seemed unsure, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable as you ran your tongue teasingly along the edge of his waistband.

His voice was shaky when he spoke again, "I… don’t get why you like this version of me so much." He groaned softly as your hands slid higher, gently squeezing his hips. "I thought you’d prefer me the way I used to be—leaner, fitter."

You paused, looking up at him with a serious expression. "Mingi, I didn’t fall in love with just your body. I fell for you." You pressed a soft kiss against his skin, right where his waistband met his lower abdomen, your lips lingering as if to emphasize your words. "You’re sexy no matter what shape you’re in, but this?" You tugged lightly at his underwear, your breath ghosting over his skin. "This body is just as perfect as any other version of you."

Mingi shuddered at the contact, and finally, his hands found your shoulders, pulling you up gently so he could look you in the eyes. "I don’t think I deserve you," he muttered, his voice low and sincere. "You’re too good to me."

"You deserve everything," you whisper back, brushing your lips lightly against his. "And I’m going to keep proving that to you." With that, you deepen the kiss, your hands working to slide his underwear down and free his length.

His breath hitched again as your fingers ghosted over him, his body trembling in anticipation. But just before you could lower yourself again, he gently tugged you back up. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes dark with something more than just lust—something deeper, more vulnerable.

"Babe, wait." Mingi’s voice was soft, but his grip on your wrists was firm as he held you there, his gaze locking with yours. "I… I want to make you feel good too."

You blinked at him, surprised. "You don’t have to—"

"I want to," he cut you off, his expression serious as he gently pushed you down onto the bed, flipping the roles. His lips brushed your ear as he leaned over you, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. "You’ve been so focused on me… but I want to focus on you now."

You let out a small gasp as he pinned your wrists above your head, his body pressing against yours, the heat radiating off him in waves. "M-Mingi…" You tried to form a coherent sentence, but the feel of his lips trailing along your neck made it impossible to focus.

"I’m not done with you yet," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. He kissed his way down your throat, his free hand sliding under your shirt and gently squeezing your breast. "You thought I’d just let you do all the work?"

His lips found the sensitive skin at the base of your neck, sucking lightly and leaving a mark that made your breath hitch. "Y-you’re such a tease…" you manage to gasp, your back arching as his hand slid lower, teasing the waistband of your pants.

Mingi smirked against your skin, his kisses growing rougher as his free hand slipped inside your pants, his fingers brushing over the damp fabric of your underwear. "And you love it," he growled playfully, his voice dripping with confidence now, the self-doubt from earlier starting to fade away.

You let out a needy whimper as he ran his fingers teasingly along your slit, the friction making your hips buck against his hand. "Stop… teasing…" you pleaded, your voice breathless.

He chuckled softly, his lips finding your ear as he nipped lightly at your earlobe. "I like it when you beg." His fingers pressed more firmly against your core, making you cry out softly in response.

"Mingi, please…" you moaned, your body writhing beneath him as he finally slid your underwear to the side and ran his fingers over your soaked folds.

The deep groan that escaped his throat at the feel of you only made the heat in your belly grow. "God, you're so wet," he muttered, his voice low and rough as he slipped a finger inside you, earning a gasp from your lips.

Your hands, still pinned above your head, clenched into fists as you squirmed beneath him, desperately craving more. "Mingi, I—"

"You’re so sensitive," he murmured, slipping another finger inside you and curling them just right. His thumb rubbed slow, torturous circles over your clit, and your back arched, your body reacting to his every touch.

"I-I can’t…" you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillows as your body trembled.

"You can," Mingi whispered, his voice soothing but filled with desire. His lips found yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your moans as he sped up his fingers, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me."

That was all it took. His fingers thrust deeper, hitting that perfect spot, and your entire body convulsed as you came hard around him. A loud cry of his name tore from your throat as the pleasure washed over you, your body trembling beneath him.

Mingi watched you intently, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as you fell apart in his arms. "That’s my girl," he murmured softly, slowing his movements to let you ride out your orgasm.

You were still panting, your body twitching with aftershocks as he pulled his hand from you and brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low groan. "You taste so good," he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he looked down at you, still flushed and breathless.

Before you could even recover, he was back on you, his lips pressing hot kisses down your chest, leaving a trail of heat along your skin. "Mingi…" you breathed, your voice shaky as he hovered over you, his gaze intense.

"You didn’t think we were done, did you?" he teased, his breath hot against your skin. He positioned himself between your legs, his length pressing against your dripping entrance. "I’m just getting started."

Before you could respond, he slid into you with one hard, smooth thrust, both of you gasping at the overwhelming pleasure. His hips snapped forward, setting a relentless pace, and the only sounds in the room were the sound of your moans and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin.

Mingi’s head tilted back, his lips parted as he let out a deep, guttural groan, the feeling of you wrapped around him driving him wild. "Fuck, babe…" he grunted, his hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you harder, deeper.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you struggled to keep up with the intensity. "Mingi… I-I’m close again," you whimpered, your body already on the verge of another orgasm.

"Come for me again," he growled, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub fast circles over your clit. "I want to feel you come around me."

The heat in your belly exploded, and with one final thrust, you screamed his name as you came hard around him, your walls fluttering and clenching down on his length.

Mingi groaned loudly, the sensation of you tightening around him sending him over the edge. With a few more rough thrusts, he followed you into release, his hips jerking as he filled you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm.

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, Mingi collapsed beside you, both of you panting heavily. He pulled you into his arms, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your skin still tingling from the intensity of it all.

"Maybe… I won’t worry so much about the weight," Mingi whispered, his breath still ragged. His fingers traced lazy circles on your arm as he cuddled you close.

You smiled, snuggling into his chest. "Good. Because you’re perfect just the way you are."

He let out a small chuckle, pressing another kiss to your temple. "If this is how you’re going to convince me, I might never work out again."

You laugh softly, playfully swatting his chest. "Oh no, I didn’t say all that."

Mingi grinned down at you, his eyes warm and filled with affection. "Either way… thank you. For everything."

You kissed his chest softly, nuzzling into him with a content sigh. "I love you, Mingi. Just remember that."

"I love you too, babe," he whispered, pulling you even closer as you both drifted off into a peaceful, satisfied sleep.

[moremaybank]

just read you're blurb and omg, I love it smm you are so talented I can't!!!

the best friends to lovers trope with jj has always been my fav and the way you write it has me fucking depressed (in the best way)

also I fucking need this man. imagine a soft, slow, deep make out session with him.... 🤧🤧

I LOVE YOUU

oh they could never take bsf!jj/in between!jj away from me !!!! (also ty for the love angel MWAH)

jj couldn't seem to remember what he was so afraid of. being with you, letting himself trust what was shared between you had felt so natural. it was crazy, but he finally felt like he was on solid ground.

well, except for when your lips were locking with his the way they were right now.

right now, he was levitating.

the honeymoon phase had been good to you both. hands never leaving each other's. lips never ceasing to worship every inch of skin that made up the being of their lover. it really seemed wrong to ever be doing anything else.

all he wanted was this. always this.

he had you on his lap, chest to chest. his hands clutched at your waist, holding you so tight as if he was trying to remind himself that you were there, that you were real. then, they migrated greedily up your back, fingertips digging slightly into your skin as they do so. he sighed into your mouth with bliss when your arms curled around the back of his neck, making it impossible to abandon you.

"y'taste good, baby."

he could barely get the words out before your bashful and giggling lips collide again. he moved to grip your thighs, kneading the flesh as your mouths moved slowly together. so deeply in sync that you could anticipate each other's next moves, grant each other's wishes without the other even having to ask. his tongue slipped past your lips, and it was like you were saying i love you over and over with every brush of your lips and stroke of your tongues.

you groaned when jj pulled away. he didn't go too far, but it was enough to make you pout in protest.

"where're you goin?"

his heart thumped uncontrollably at the way you looked. lovestruck eyes, blood-rushed lips, hands rubbing and pawing at his warm, toned chest through his shirt.

his thumb swiped over the curve of your chin, and your skin tingles gleefully at the contact. "jus' wanna get a good look at my dream."

"'m not a dream, j. i'm real."

he gives you a peck. "promise? 'cause if i wake up 'n you aren't here, i'ma be severely pissed off."

you giggle, nodding as you drape your hands on either side of his handsome face. your nose strokes against his. "promise. i'm all yours."

"damn fuckin' straight, baby."

concepts ; concepts (ii

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader - Part 2

prev

You....really shouldn't have bitten Alastor.

It was a threat, yep, and the guy did need to learn his actions had consequences, but...er. Was that really worth this?

The Radio Demon had practically been your shadow for the past week. His expression never changed, his tone never shifted. You were like, 90 percent sure he was thinking of the best way to kill you for maximum pain.

Pain wasn't good. You were allergic to it.

...That line usually got a chuckle out of whoever heard it, or in your case, whenever you thought it. However, this time, it didn't quite tickle your funny bone as it usually did.

Because Alastor was standing right there.

And staring at you.

In your goddam bedroom.

"....Hi." You said, chewing on your bottom lip.

Alastor's gaze darted for a second to your lip, then back to your eyes. And he said nothing.

"...Did you need something?" You said.

He continued to stare at you, unblinking.

You sighed "Listen, if you're going to kill me can you just hurry up already? I'm sure it beats how awkward this is."

Other than the slightest twitch of an ear, he still didn't respond.

You huffed, narrowing your eyes as a growl permeated through the air. "At least say something!"

He didn't.

"OKay, fine!" You snapped, throwing your hands up in the air. You crossed them over your chest with a pout, giving Alastor a mean side-eye. "Keep standing there doing nothing. I guess I could use a new hat rack anyway."

"...You don't have any hats?" He said, tilting his head to one side.

"I'll get some so I can justify having a hat rack." You said, tail flicking.

"Mhm... So, how sincere is this threat?"

"What?"

Alastor straightened his posture, taking a couple long strides to stand right at your bedside. "You make a lot of threats, my dear. And I've only ever seen you carry 1 out."

"Usually people listen to me." You said, rolling your eyes.

"So you've never actually follow through before?" He tilted his head to the opposite side than before. His grin seemed to stretched a bit, ears becoming less stiff.

"Does that make you happy?" You said, turning to face him "That you're the first idiot who made me actually do something?"

From how he practically beamed you can only assume it did. You sighed, flopping down onto the bed on your side. The intent was to ignore him until he got bored and went away or got sick of you and killed you.

Instead you found a shadowy tendril wrapping around your middle, rolling you onto your back. Alastor grinned down at you, his body a perfect 90-degree angle bent at the waist.

"I'm the first one you've bit?"

"...Yeah?" You said, raising an eyebrow. "I mean. I think I bit people when I was little and pretending I had rabies, but not really intending to hurt them..."

His grin widened. "How did I taste?"

...

"What."

"I want to know. How did I taste?"

Oh right he was a cannibal. You grimaced internally. Was that just something cannibals got giddy about? 'Hey I'm the first person you've eaten hurrah!'

The tendril around you gave a firm squeeze. You sighed and met Alastor's crimson eyes, giving him a flat look of your own.

"Dry and tough- like badly made jerky."

He laughed. "Well, of course! You bit into my jacket! Silly creature, you."

"....Well, you asked."

"That I did, that I did." Alastor hummed. He tilted his head too far to one side, leaning in closer to you "Would you care for a taste without my jacket?"

"No." You responded curtly.

The silence was palpable. Neither of you broke eye contact or changed your expressions for several moments. Those moments seemed very, very long.

His eye slowly twitched up and his ears dropped ever-so-slighty-

"Hm. Well, it's not like you'd manage that anyway."

"Probably not. Are we done?"

Another beat of silence passed before the shadows tendril dissolved into mist and Alastor was standing up straight again.

"Now, I wouldn't say this matter is done, but I suppose it could wait."

You sat up, staring at him. The more you stared, the more his eyes couldn't seem to decide on what to focus on. Was he...nervous?

That encounter didn't go anywhere else significant. He simply said a farewell and left you to your own devices.

===========

Your eye twitched as you took a long, deep breath.

Alastor was being so horribly, horribly annoying.

The last couple days he resumed his role as your shadow, but this time solely with the task of irritating you. He'd chew loudly, he'd step in an off-rhythm on purpose, he'd claw the surface of things you couldn't stand the sound of and it made your ears hurt and your jaw ache from how much you were grinding your teeth.

You had enough.

"Will you LEAVE ME ALONE!?" You snapped at him. He didn't so much as flinch, simply tilting his head and he leaned closer to you.

"Or what?"

"I'm going to shove your hooves so far up your ass you'll be coughing up horseshoes for a week-"

"I'm a deer, not a horse." He said, eyes crinkling up in amusement at your 'threat'.

You hissed out an agitated breath before taking a couple deep, long breaths and you felt your jaw lax (a little) and your temper die down a bit.

"...Yeah, you're right." You said after a moment "And I'm sorry. I didn't really have much of a reason to snap at you like that."

His eyes narrowed and you couldn't be bothered to wonder why. You said a curt goodbye and meandered off, feeling his eyes trained on your retreating form. You couldn't be bother to think about that, either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi it's me the writer. Letting you all know that this is not planned in the slightest and i'm just winging it. No smut will happen EVER though because I don't wanna write it. So kindly look elsewhere if that's what you want. I will put a poll here though with considerations for potential next installment