What happened today was an accident. Don't you ever tell anyone about it. About what? Do I need to spell it out? I won't talk about it. No one meant it, and no one saw it. It's a secret. Good, there's still a bit of a gentleman in you. And you, you shouldn't gossip about Dr. Mes and me anymore. Okay, I'll try. If someone happened to see you jump and kiss me, they wouldn't be able to think of anything else. If I started rumors about it, what would you say? You can tell them it's not what it looked like. Like Dr. Mes and I have been trying to tell you, but you wouldn't listen? Fine, I won't talk about it anymore.
about: a series of my favorite movies reimagined with (some of) the boys of seventeen.
notes: the movies inspired the fics, please don’t expect it to be an exact word for word reenactment of the films; i had a couple of ideas and decided to roll with it. unfortunately i will not be doing all of the boys as some of them are key side characters unless specifically requested! the stories are interrelated in some way; it won’t be explicitly stated but try and look for crumbs!
also! most if not all the y/ns in the fics are directly stated to be female due to some of the stories heavily relying on y/n’s biological sex to be female.
currently working on: pretty girl !
Pretty Girl
based on: Legally Blonde
pairing: law student! joshua x heiress! reader // ex boyfriend! wen junhui x reader
synopsis: the youngest of 3 successful sisters, no one expects you to accomplish anything save for sitting still and looking pretty, but after your boyfriend dumps you for a much more educated girl, you get your eldest sister to pay your way into harvard law where you meets joshua hong, who does not seem to appreciate how lightly you takes things.
tropes: opposites attract, popular girl x nerd boy but with a twist, they start off at the wrong foot, it gets resolved, joshua will say hurtful things along the way though
A Sweet Haven
based on: Notting Hill // Maid in Manhattan
pairing: golden retriever!mingyu x single mother!y/n
synopsis: never in your wildest dreams did you expect acclaimed actor, kim mingyu, to stumble into your quaint bakery and ask you to hide him from the onslaught of paparazzi. what began as one chance encounter turns into constant visits to you and your daughter. but just as you begin to see a future between the two of you, the reminder of his fame and reputation hovers over the both you.
tropes: forbidden romance, single mom! reader, mingyu’s an actor, secret relationship
Hot and Cold
based on: Pride and Prejudice // Emma
pairing: wonwoo x reader, seokmin x oc
synopsis: as the eldest child of your family, you have only ever wanted the best for your siblings. so when your sister confesses to being in love with someone— you do everything you can to make sure they both end up together… but the infuriatingly handsome brother of your sister’s beau seems to be against the union altogether.
tropes: enemies to lovers, they really don’t like each other at first, just two people being protective of their younger siblings, elder sibling trauma written by an only child LOL
Mr and Mrs. Choi
based on: Mr. and Mrs. Smith
pairing: agent!scoups x agent!reader
synopsis: you and seungcheol (code name: scoups) have a bit of a work place rivalry going on, and the agency wants to put you both to the test by pairing you up with each other in a mission that would determine who gets the promotion… the catch being that you both would have to play a married couple.
tropes: rivals to lovers, technically also coworkers to lovers, fake marriage au, a lot of back and forths, cheol is a teasing lil shit with y/n, will very much include the old “the target is gonna notice we’re tailing him hurry let’s make out”
Love Me Tomorrow
based on: 2 week’s notice // flipped
pairing: jeonghan x reader
synopsis: your friends and coworkers say you’re foolish for harboring a crush on the worst man ever; aka your boss. yoon jeonghan is a successful ceo, and he is well aware of the hold he has over you; often using you to perform minute and tiresome errands. but what happens when you finally draw the line?
tropes: unrequited love (initially), she fell first but he fell harder, hannie’s an asshole here ngl, he gets better i promise, y/n is on a path to self love, when hannie realized he loves her he’s so pathetic i swear
Something Borrowed, Something New
based on: My best friend’s wedding
pairing: minghao x extraverted!reader, slight vernon x reader, and slight minghao x oc
synopsis: you love your fiancee you truly do, and you were very sure he felt the same long enough to propose to you; but he’s quiet, and well- you’re not. you know this, and so you always make sure you are not too spirited in days where he doesn’t feel it. but when he runs into his old college friends, you could not help but notice how he becomes a lot livelier with his childhood best friend.
tropes: established relationship, opposites attract, golden retriever y/n and black cat minghao, angst, like a lot of it, hao has a girl best friend :(( , two people who don’t communicate because of their own personal reasons
𝒔 𝒖 𝒎 𝒎 𝒂 𝒓 𝒚 : self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slam his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.
𝒄 𝒐 𝒏 𝒕 𝒆 𝒏 𝒕 : loosely inspired by watching the detectives, film major! vernon who owns an outdated film store, fem! reader is the baddest (but also the craziest) bitch in this fic, vernon is a loser, film major! mingyu who will be violated many times in this fic sorry king, mentions of many filmbro films which will also be violated, self-indulgent mentions of some of my favourite films, a few super dark jokes nothing serious though, kissing, mentions of sex and the act of cumming (all joking wise) but no actual sex because im fearing god today (super suggestive at best), barbenheimer reference <3
𝒂 𝒖 𝒕 𝒉 𝒐 𝒓 ' 𝒔 𝒏 𝒐 𝒕 𝒆 : she is finally here !! so so sorry for taking so long </3 i never thought it would be finished atp but thank you addy and alice for pushing me to complete this lil fic !! addy ur film major info birthed the filmbro slander, and alice...no smut LMAO LOSER anyway do enjoy homies <33
𝒑 𝒍 𝒂 𝒚 𝒍 𝒊 𝒔 𝒕 : if you're too shy (then let me know) by the 1975 || q&a by seventeen || wonderful women by the smiths || confidence by ocean alley || talk talk by charli xcx || oh my! by seventeen
back to masterlist
“NO, THE HOBBIT IS SET BEFORE THE LORD OF THE RINGS.”
This particular customer, however, refused to grasp the concept. “But the Hobbit was released after,” he repeated, as if he had not heard twenty minutes ago, when he first entered the store. “Wouldn’t it make sense to watch the more recent movies?”
Vernon clamped his lips together, stopping himself from saying something that would lose him a potential buyer. Well, not that it would matter much, considering the man before him could not comprehend what a prequel was, but still—he had to make this idiot understand.
“I understand that, sir, but the Hobbit is a prequel to the Lord of the Rings.” Holding onto the DVD set, he pointed to the grand picture of the movie’s protagonist. “It’s based on Bilbo Baggins’ adventures.”
“But was that not the little fellow from the Rings?”
“No, sir, that was Frodo. Bilbo is Frodo’s uncle.” The boy then clarified, tone heightening, “You know, where he reclaims his home from Smaug?”
“Smog?” The customer parroted incorrectly, scratching his hair as if the action would jog his memory. “Now why does this hobbit’s home have health violations?”
The twist of his lips was inevitable. “Smaug,” he corrected. “The dragon…the villain…the whole reason the movie was created?”
“See, I only know that one slimy creature with the ring. What was he always saying…” The man snapped his fingers, a lightbulb switching in his otherwise empty brain. “Ah, yes!” He then completely distorted his voice, rasping, “My presh-shious!”
For a split second, Vernon was a little gob-smacked at the impression. Then, he remembered he needed sales, and made sure to laugh as if that customer was the funniest man that ever stepped foot in the store.
This particular joker, who was clearly not understanding Vernon’s analogies, instead asked, “Well, which one do you recommend?”
Ah, the fated question.
Besides from the Lord of the Rings collection, he had been asked this very question a few too many times, when customers would browse the films on offer and ask for his opinion. Not that he considered himself an all-knowing master of movies—
He smiled. Now that was something he could chuckle about.
“Well, sir, the Lord of the Rings is a timeless classic. I would recommend it to anyone interested in a well-written, well-produced fantasy.”
The man twisted his lips. “But I don’t really like fantasy, though.”
Vernon could not help his smile dropping. I don’t get paid enough for this.
With as much strength he could muster, he persuaded the idiot to get a rom-com instead, and ushered him out.
He sighed, going back to the desk. The store was never busy—unsurprising, since nobody buys DVDs anymore—but that was how he liked it. The less customers that bothered him, the better. He did not want to be that type of guy, but he would rather have his own company than those who thought that the Marvel movies were God’s gift to man. (The Spiderman movies, however, he had to leave out of his apparently controversial statement).
Vernon was about to close the shop out of pure boredom when someone stepped in.
His eyes darted to the newcomer.
They stayed as he beheld you.
Perhaps this was a gross generalisation, but he did not expect someone so cute walking in a store this run-down. Maybe you had mistaken it for a vintage shop, planning to rob the CDs, or thought there might be decades old clothing in here. He was certain you had walked in by mistake, but then you began to browse the movie sections.
His first thought was that you seemed to have excellent taste.
You slowed your steps in the classics section, eyes roaming at the Fan Favourites shelf which was simply movies Vernon had seen this week. Still, they were amazing fucking movies, hence their place on the shelf, now being admired by the likes of you. He wondered what you thought of the one DVD you picked up, assessing the blurb at the back. Roman Holiday. The boy could have smiled—you truly had a knack for picking out special films.
Your fingers lingered on the movies for only a couple of minutes before you saw the desk—first the counter, and then the person behind it.
The fact that your first instinct was to smile at the boy behind the counter had a profound effect on him.
Now, he did not want to sound pathetic; he did not know you, had never seen you before, but someone this aesthetically pleasing did not come to stores like his. Someone who picks up Roman fucking Holiday and be this cute did not acknowledge boys like him.
But Vernon Chwe will be cool about it. He will not look like a loser in front of you.
He pretended to look over some DVDs on the counter desk as you approached him. “Hey, there,” you greeted, and only then he allowed himself to look up, glancing you over. Already you had propped your arms on the top, eyes darting around the store as if finding something which deserved your attention. “I wanted to ask about a specific film. Well, films.”
Films? Vernon really thought all the intelligent minds had rotted in this lifetime, but clearly you were an exception. “Of course,” he said, setting the movie on the side. “What genres are you interested in?” he ticked his head towards the Fan Favourites. “You were looking in the right place, to be fair.”
“Hmm?” you only spared that shelf a momentary—dismissive—glance. “Oh, sorry! I was looking for a specific box-set, but I can’t seem to find it on the shelves. I was hoping you could have it out back.”
Specific box-set? Vernon tried to contain his smile. Of course you were looking for a collection of timeless classics. “What’re you looking for?” he asked you, hoping you were going to request Hitchcock’s best. If you asked for Wong Kar-Wai’s trilogy, he might have fallen to his knees.
You smiled at him.
Then dropped the bomb.
“I don’t know if you’d have the Disney Princess box set? You know, the complete edition?”
Vernon’s eye twitched a little. What the fuck?
Your gaze on him did not shift. “Are you okay?”
It took a moment for him to realise that you had asked him a question. “Huh? Right, sorry,” he said hurriedly, mind rushing for the many possibilities as to why you had requested a set like that. Perhaps you were braindead? No, that was too harsh. But then, who was watching Disney movies at that age?
Then an idea came into his head, and it made him feel much better.
“So sorry about that,” he reiterated, scratching the back of his neck. “Anyway…Disney Princess set, huh?” He sighed out a laugh. “A sweet treat for your younger siblings, then.”
“Younger siblings?” A swift shake of your head, still smiling. “Haven’t got any of those.”
The twitching was back. “...anyone under the age of 12 you know?”
“Now you’re making me sound like a freak,” you mused, locking your hands together. “Is it that shocking that I’m getting the set for myself?”
Vernon’s any attempt to diffuse the conversation died the moment you said those words.
Disney. Princess. Movies. The box-set you wanted was a Disney. Fucking. Princess box-set.
At this rate, his eye-twitching was very much visible to you. “Don’t tell me no one’s ever bought a Disney movie from you,” you said, surprised by his change of attitude.
“Well,” he jeered, “I usually have first-time parents with their toddler kids asking me about sets like that.”
You then titled your head back a little, taken aback with the comment. “Are you saying I’m too old to watch Disney movies?”
“No!” he instinctively defended himself, though he had virtually no defence to offer. He had, in his own words, called you a hag.
This was it—he was usually stellar at keeping his opinions to himself. Now, the one time he could have kept his mouth shut, it spluttered open and not only embarrassed him, but one of the only cute potential customers. He was his own saboteur. His own destruction.
After catching the flurry of emotions on his face, you had a realisation.
Did his stupid comments get to you? Perhaps they would have, had you not seen his like before. Not only that, you had a sneaky feeling he himself had no clue on what category he was slotted into.
So you let the corners of your mouth curve upwards—up to the point where you were smirking, completely catching the boy off guard.
“My god, you’re a filmbro!”
Those emotions that you had witnessed now all conjoined into confusion. “Huh?” was his intelligent answer to the accusation. Filmbro?
And then you began to chuckle—little bursts of soft giggles, which escaped your mouth the more the revelation settled over you. “Wait, wait,” you began, “I need to ask this first!” You wiggled your finger at him. “What is your favourite film?”
Again, the fated question. This time, though, he felt as if his answer would not be the right one. Still—if there was one thing he was confident about, it was his expertise in films.
He tried, as confidently as he could, to voice out his supposed opinion. “Nolan’s Inception is one of the greatest films ever made.”
There was one, solitary, quiet moment.
It was ruined by the subsequent laughter, courtesy of your mouth, which could not shut after his answer. You had to grip the counter, cackling at the response, and Vernon could only gawk at you, face reddening with every second spent watching you keel over.
After what seemed like a lifetime (but was only about thirty seconds), Vernon finally cleared his throat. “Alright now, that’s enough comedy,” he muttered.
Another thirty seconds later, you finally seemed to calm down. The mischievous mirth on your face, although would have had any man swooning at your feet, seemed to irritate him all the more. “I’m sorry,” you gasped out, wiping a slight tear from your eye, “You just…you reminded me of my boyfriend.”
Of course. Vernon nearly clicked his tongue in disappointment. Of course the pretty, borderline-mean, borderline-terrible-taste-in-movies girl was taken. Fuck my life, son.
Your smile flickered—almost as if it turned cruel. “My mistake…ex-boyfriend.”
His eyebrow then raised a little. Maybe life can be unfucked; maybe the pretty, not-that-mean-as-he-thought, changeable-taste-in-movies girl was still attainable.
Your eyes wandered once more, but this time to your hands. “I was actually going to get the Disney Princess set for him.”
The eyebrow decided to raise further up. He was dying to know why you were 1) getting your ex-boyfriend a present and 2) getting your ex-boyfriend the worst fucking present. But of course, due to the lack of balls in his pants, he did not ask you.
The crazier notion was, maybe you knew the lack of balls that should be present in his pants, because you iterated for him. “I’m surprised you’re not asking why I’m giving my ex a Disney Princess movie set, Mr. Filmbro.”
That term had him immediately frowning. “I don’t particularly care,” he lied as best as he could. He then crossed his arms. “Plus, I’m afraid the store doesn’t have the sets. I’m gonna have to order them in.”
A tilt of your head. “Are you lying?”
The cross of his arms was gone—now his hands were raised in surrender. “No, no!” At least not the set order bit…
Although it was quite clear that you did not believe him, you spared him this once. “Alright…” you receded your arms from the desk, taking a step back. Instead, you pointed at him. “But don’t think I’m gonna leave you alone on this!”
Vernon’s insanely suave, cool, mystique response was giving you a thumb’s up. “Of course.”
As you walked back to the entrance, hand on the door, you looked back at him. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Filmbro.”
The eye-twitch was about to come back. He did not bother waving as you left the shop.
VERNON COULD NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU FOR THE SEVEN DAYS BETWEEN YOU AND TODAY.
It was slightly embarrassing—he supposed he should have expected some extraordinary meet-cute, where someone who looked and acted like you would waltz into his dusty-ass film store and ask for possibly the worst movie collection to grace the western cinema.
But then you called him a fucking Filmbro, and now the self-hatred might bubble to the surface of his usual calm demeanour.
The boy scoffed as he fixed the alphabetical order of the CD covers, located in the Classics section. Filmbro…what the fuck do I look like a Filmbro for…
He firstly supposed that he should consider it a compliment—so what if he had superior knowledge of movies over the average morons that wandered into the store? He was paid minimum wage for this knowledge! Fuck, he was doing a degree within this field! (Not that he was quite sure he would end up as a blockbuster director at the fine age of 21, but the arts majors were always told to dream beyond the realistic limits.)
The more he contemplated over the vicious term, the more it began to bother him. Filmbro…Film. Bro. God, it sounded like a classist clique—a club where the members considered themselves above the laws of society, but were horrendously ridiculed by the outsiders. At the end of the day, he had always been an outsider in these clubs—he did not enjoy being the laughing stock, even if it meant being a member of an elitist group.
Whatever. So what if you called him a Filmbro? He had only spoken to you once; the opinion of one girl—regardless of how pretty she was—was not of any relevance to him.
But then you sauntered into his store, and suddenly he forgot that he was seething over you for an entire week.
There you were, footsteps harmonising along the bells of the entrance, and he swerved back to see you. You, in all your frill-skirted, layered-shirted, gum-chewing glory, catching his eye and bringing back the smile which you had offered him the moment you bestowed him that term of little-endearment.
“Hello again, Mr. Filmbro.”
Don’t be a prick, don’t be a prick, don’t be a prick—
It was fine—it was okay. Vernon was a man now—no longer in his teens. He could have a normal, pleasant conversation. He was mature and able enough to interact with a girl who just happened to disagree with him on certain interests.
He would be cordial—kind.
“How can I help you, Miss Disney-Hag?”
His skin nearly crawled. I need to kill myself immediately.
A bit of a low blow from his nickname, but you were laughing, a silly little melody. You must have been crazy, because any other sane, rational human being would have been offended—should have been offended. Vernon fought to keep his face straight.
“I see you’ve been thinking about me then,” you said.
That had him looking away, walking behind the counter. “It’s not everyday I get a grown-ass woman asking me about children’s films.”
You mocked a gasp, slapping a hand over your chest. “Ouch. Do you hurt every girl that walks into your filmstore, or is this special treatment reserved for me?
Vernon focused on the cash in the register. “When another girl asks for the special edition for the Cinderella trilogy, then I’ll hurt her just the same.”
You clicked your tongue. “I should have known all men suck in their own ways.” You then approached the counter, propping your elbows atop the surface. “At least show me you’re good at your job and bring me the movie set I ordered.”
At this precise moment, all the thoughts about your stubborn addiction, playful smirk and how terrible the Little Mermaid was had completely vanished.
Shit.
Maybe his irrational dislike ran further than he thought.
“Yeah…” but then he realised he sounded incredibly suspicious, and cleared his throat, forcing a little assurance in his usual monotone. “Yes! Yeah, of course! The movie set.” He took a step back, nodding his head ever so slowly, as if his head was not churning out a million different plans. “Give me one second…”
“Sure,” you could barely get out before Vernon whirled on his heel, bursting through the backstage door, and into the Chwe flat.
He did not know whether this was going to work out.
Like lightning he ascended the stairs, hands brushing against the bannister as he went past his bedroom, door slightly ajar. Not the destination he was seeking, he stopped before the neighbouring door—this one firmly closed.
The boy made sure to knock first. No answer. Perfect. Slowly turning the knob, he opened the door, peeking around just in case there was someone in the room, and then he would have to resort to more planning. Since the coast was crystal clear, though, he put his mind at ease, only focusing on the main plan.
The room he had entered was a myriad of pop culture references and childhood memories, plastered on the butterfly-covered walls, sitting atop bedside tables or hanging off the hooks. Vernon never realised how invested his sister was with certain TV shows or films till he saw Lindsay Lohan’s mugshot plastered next to her bed. He had asked about it once, but she only waved him off. You wouldn’t understand her impact, she had said to him, and went back to shitting about him to her friends.
Prying away from the poster, his eyes settled on what he came for, settled in the middle of the huge book shelf.
Sofia prided herself with her book and movie collection, a hereditary trait which Vernon shared: the top and bottom shelves were filled with her all-time favourites, even resorting to furthering her obsessions with the merch related to her treasured characters. He remembered laughing at her ideas until he saw a Barbie FunkoPop figure staring back at him one day. That notion was already horrendous, but the black, soulless eyes had guaranteed its spot in his sleep paralysis the next day.
Thankfully, the little horror was not on show on her bookshelf—this time, right in the middle, was the very prize that he sought.
The Disney Princess Movie Set—Complete Edition.
Packaged in pink casing, Sofia’s most treasured piece sat, almost with its head held high as the other movies orbited around its pull. As far as Vernon remembered, it held all the Princess movies, and was worth at least 6 hours of his wages.
The boy looked around the room, as if his sister would appear any second.
Then, like a thief in the night (even though it was broad daylight, and would definitely be caught), he swiped the set off the bookshelf, and hurried out of her room.
“Sorry, Sofe,” he could only murmur under his breath as he dashed down the stairs, hoping you had not been bored by his absence, and left him with stolen goods at the scene of the crime.
He opened the door adjacent to the shop, and he almost sighed in relief when you perked up, eyes darting straight to your apparent order. When he saw your face light up like fireworks in the night sky, he titled his head back a bit, stunned by your boisterous reaction.
“You actually bought it!” you exclaimed, drumming your hands against the counter as he set the movies down. “I had a feeling you would blow me off.”
“Business is business,” Vernon said, crossing his arms, “Shit taste in movies will not stop me from making my money.”
You clicked your tongue. “Spoken like a business major.”
“Film major, thank you. I would rather kill myself than submit to the horrors of finance.”
“Don’t die on me just yet.” Bringing out your purse, you fished through its contents, first setting your card on the counter. Then, you brought out a crumpled piece of paper. “I actually have a few more films I want to ask about.”
The boy was expecting another long list of early 2000s rom-coms—perhaps an opinion for every Disney movie ever made in its existence. He swore if he had to hear about Rachel McAdams’ versatility one more time, he might blow his brains out in front of a customer.
Then you dropped the names, and he had to surge his head forward.
“What are your thoughts on Wolf of Wall Street, American Psycho, Pulp Fiction…Fight Club, Saving Private Ryan, Scarface…” You squinted at the list, finding the names neverending. “Jeez, this list keeps going, huh?”
He could not help the scoff. “And you called me a Filmbro.” He set his forearms on the counter, locking his hands together. “What do you need these movies for?”
“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.”
The term had him pausing. Of course—the ex-boyfriend. How has he heard of this man, but not know a thing about him? Shit, he did not even know your name.
“This ex of yours has…an interesting taste,” he said slowly. “What’s he like?”
“I can tell you he attends the same college as you. Well, us,” you clarified, jerking your head towards the college colours of your server’s hoodie. “Film major. Just like you, actually.”
“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”
“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?”
Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.
A hesitant nod of his head. “I have a few classes with him.”
“Oh?” Your stare was a little more intense now. “What do you think of him?”
Right.
Another fated question—the people around him had to stop asking him such controversial questions, or else he was bound to piss someone off. You were already letting him off the hook too many times; one more judgemental comment, and he was having that Princess movie set smashed on his head.
Kim Mingyu. Fuckass Kim Mingyu. Film major—just like him. One of the most popular boys in the year—very unlike him. All the teachers love his essays, all the girls love his freakishly-perfect six-pack, which Vernon is extremely irritated (and devastatingly intimidated) by.
What all these people failed to realise, though, was that Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university—and the planet, if dramatics were in order. If you thought that Vernon was a filmbro, then Mingyu was Filmbrother. Filmcomrade. Filmnemesis.
It was as if you could hear the thoughts churning in his head. “You can be honest, you know. He did dump me at the end of the day.” A smirk began to appear. “Say your worst.”
The reassurance did not help. “I mean,” he started, swiping your card, “He’s okay? I haven’t talked to him enough to have an opinion on him.”
A half-truth—that should suffice.
But because the fates like to shit on his head every now and then for kicks, they decided to leave you unsatisfied with his answer. “Or, you can keep lying!”
Excellent intuition, really. “I’m not!” he exclaimed, slapping the card back on the counter. “I really don’t know much about him.”
The big man upstairs was testing him even further, when, with a determined gaze, you set your elbows atop the surface. You leaned closer, tilting your head to the side as you inspected him, and Vernon blinked back at the sheer lack of space you had created. His mouth twisted, eyes frantically darting at the features of your face, not quite taking in the entirety of your being. Your vision seemed to work perfectly, because it caught the slight flush at the tops of his cheeks, where it was just pale skin seconds before.
Your smirk deepened. “Judging by your blush, you’re either terrible at lying…or,” you offered, voice lowering a little as you drummed your fingers against the counter, “You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.”
Fuck everything and everyone, because that only made him blush more furiously. You could not help the chuckle that escaped, deciding to cease torturing him and take your card. “I’ll not say the answer, Mr. Filmbro, but I think you already know.”
Since he had no plans of turning into a human form of a ketchup bottle, he evaded the topic entirely, instead focusing on interrogating you. “You still haven’t told me how Mingyu is related to the movie list you made.”
That seemed to hold your interest. “Oh, of course!” Putting the list back into your bag, you began, “Well, the list holds my ex-boyfriend’s favourite films. I wanted to know your opinion on a few.”
He could not contain his sigh. Oh, he had an opinion on these films that you mentioned. Again, he would rather be buried with his thoughts on the specific genre than ever tell you. The curiosity, though, was eventually going to eat him alive.
So much for minding his business.
“I mean…” he began to think, trying to find the right words. “I don’t mind them? Godfather is a good film, but I’ve seen better from Brando. I like American Psycho, but again, people tend to miss the point of the movie.”
As you nodded, listening to his two-cents on the movies you mentioned, he paused, furrowing his brows. “Why do you care about my opinion?”
You smacked your lips together, folding the list back. “I don’t know much about you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, “But you don’t run a filmstore without knowing a thing or two about the films you sell.”
“So?” He crossed his arms atop the counter. “Shouldn’t you have asked the guy who you made the list about?”
“Trust me,” you said, your smirk turning more into a rageful flash of teeth, “I know exactly what he thinks of these films.”
Don’t particularly know what to make of that comment. “Well, I don’t know what my opinion for these films is going to help you in any way.”
“It has helped.” You paused then, waiting to see if he would egg you on, asking how his seemingly tame opinions would play into the grand scheme of things. “All part of my master plan.”
Master plan? Vernon may have been interested before, but he was certain that, before, he could have hid it without letting you catch onto it. In a sudden flash, though, as if his mouth was beyond his control, he regrettably slipped out the words which had you smiling more than he would have liked.
“What master plan?”
He almost closed his eyes. Shit. Now I’m fucking invested.
The corners of your mouth, lifting upwards, had him almost nervous. “I was hoping you would say that.”
Great. Brilliant. Fantastic. Fucking Stupendous. Vernon could not think of other pretentious synonyms. “I will tell you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, once again settling your locked hands on the counter, “If you help me out with it.”
That had his eyebrow shooting upwards. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I intended.” A pause. “Look, I know it’s a little crazy…being asked by someone to help in some mysterious plan. But hey!” you added, “You know who the target is, and you know I can be trusted.”
“Calling your ex-boyfriend a target makes this sound like a contract killing. Also, I actually don’t know that,” he corrected, crossing his arms. “The only thing I know about you is your weird obsession with children’s movies.”
“Well, buddy, that’s basically my entire personality, so you don’t need to know any more!”
Vernon sucked in a breath. “I don’t even know your name.”
Your eyes darted to his features, the sharp brows, the speculative eyes, the flared nostrils. His lips, which were twisted in a curious, bemused line. “That’s an easy problem to solve.” You decided to battle his frown with a smile. “_____.”
_____. At least he knew one important thing about you. He swore Mingyu had mentioned your name before, but then he should not also hold certainty—that boy’s favourite subject had always been himself.
You snapped him out of his thoughts. “This is when you tell me your name now…or do you enjoy being called a filmbro?”
Man…he could not look you in the eye afterwards. “I don’t…” he got out, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And it’s Vernon. Chwe Vernon.”
“Vernon,” you repeated, lips curling upwards. “Alright, Vernon, since both of us know each other’s names, you can definitely help me now!”
The said-boy tried to smile, which was more a grimace. “Well…”
“Tell you what,” you said, trying to find something in your bag. “Wait, give me a second…shit, where is that piece of paper…?” You finally managed to fish a crumpled piece out. “Right!” After catching sight of a pen lying around the counter, you took it and scribbled something quickly, sending it his way.
Taking it, he looked at the messy scribbles—your number. “You’re looking at it as if I passed you a death threat,” you snickered. Vernon gave an uneasy smile. “Just think it over. I need movie expertise, and there’s no one else I know who can help me more than a guy who runs a film store.”
The boy behind the counter listened to you, paper still in hand. Maybe Mingyu made some points breaking up with you—you did not know who Vernon was, save for the name that was tied to him, and the job he was forced to do by his parents. Realistically, he had to decline, because if he has ever learned something in his life—or from watching a myriad of golden age romantic tragedies—is that you never trust the beautiful, crazy girls.
“Hey,” he heard you say, and he swore your chirp had softened. “I’ll go ahead with my plan in a week’s time. If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll know your answer. You don’t have to tell me now.” When he looked at you, he saw your expression shift. “That’s why I only gave the paper.”
He supposed he could appreciate this sentiment. “Thanks,” he could only say, pocketing your number. “Is there…anything else you want? Aside from the—” a snide glance at the DVD set—”the movie?”
“I saw that,” you scoffed, taking hold of the movie set. “And no, I’m alright. I’ll bother you about children’s movies another time.”
“I’ll make sure these children’s movies are all conveniently sold out when you come,” he countered without thinking.
You could only shake your head, trying to contain your laugh. “Careful, or I just might bother you after the plan.”
Vernon did not know what he felt at that notion—would he want that? However, he did not have time to ponder, since you were already heading for the door. As you nearly left the store, bell ringing, he did not hear the door close. He glanced up, catching you looking at him with an indecipherable expression. “Yes?”
You waited a moment before parting your mouth. “I hope to hear from you, Mr. Filmbro.”
With that, you swiftly exited the store, leaving this Mr. Filmbro even more helpless than he was between the seven days between your first encounter, and now this very second.
“JO MADE SENSE WITH FRIEDRICH AT THE END. SHE SIMPLY…NEEDED A MAN AFTER PINING FOR LAURIE.”
The professor listened in the small circle, the rest of the students typing or writing down the answer. “Like, realistically,” Mingyu went on, twisting his mechanical pencil between his fingers, “The whole point of the movie is her relationship with Laurie, and that was shattered the moment he married Amy. Friedrich was like…” he pouted in thought, furrowing his brows. “The light at the end of the tunnel…does that make sense, Minghao?”
The said-man nodded. “Interesting take,” he noted, walking closer to the circle he was teaching. “So you agree that Jo needed Friedrich at the end of the film?”
“Absolutely.”
There were a few murmurs around the room, majority of them agreeing with the golden boy who was sitting at the head of the circular, white table. Vernon, who was sat one girl away from him, typed furiously in his laptop, adding to his notes. MINGYU IS A FUCKING IDIOT…CINEMATICALLY ILLITERATE…BORDERLINE MISOGYNIST…Okay, perhaps he was exaggerating on the last one, but his analysis of the question pissed him off.
Did Jo need Friedrich at the end of the movie? Was what Professor Minghao had asked them about an hour ago. Vernon knew the answer immediately, and, although did not share it with the seminar, was surprised to be disagreed by the majority of the class. Not surprising, however, when his class was filled with men who could not imagine a woman in a film wanting anything else but a man beside her.
Whatever, he thought, straying from the web page and instead checking the release date for Oppenheimer when he heard your name crop up amongst the discourse in the table.
“Did _____ actually?”
“Oh, yeah, said she thought Jo should have been on her own.” A click of tongue. “Not surprising, coming from her.”
Vernon instantly perked up, fingers pausing on the keyboard. Not surprising? The boy was actually floored at that opinion—and how valid you were for expressing it.
“I mean,” another girl, right next to him, chimed in, “Didn’t you say she was really stupid, Gyu?”
“God, I don’t know where to begin,” Mingyu said, aghast, and the boy who eavesdropped felt a little dread at every word that escaped his mouth. “Everytime I watched a movie with her she always got bored, or argued with me when I tried to explain shit to her.”
“I remember we sat with her while we were tryna do our film project last semester,” the boy beside Mingyu recalled. “She had no fucking clue who Martin Scorcese was, man!”
The group audibly gasped, save for Vernon, who could not help himself, refusing to mind his business. Nasty habit this—he made a note to call you out for this later on, should you walk into his store again.
Fuck. He did not want that. Of course he did not. He should stop thinking about it too.
You, that is.
“She’s gotta be the dumbest one yet, Gyu,” the boy snickered, snapping his laptop shut.
“You don’t even know the half of it,” the dumper groaned, raking through his locks. “You know she was always watching those fucking Disney princess movies?” Vernon’s eyes widened a little. “Man, I remember she wouldn’t get enough of them. Like, what are you, six? Why the fuck am I watching a movie about a midget dragon?”
Then, Mingyu said the words that made the eavesdropper’s spirits shot down.
“_____ may have been hot, but she was one stupid bitch. Thank god I got rid of her.”
The others agreed. He may have spoken more on the matter of your lack of media literacy, but the professor was back, and the seminar had quietened, all in focus.
All except for the boy who had not given his two cents on the matter, frozen solid at the conversation that occurred. What the fuck was that? He had first thought, over and over to the point that he nearly typed it in the seminar document. He had always known Mingyu was an asshole, but what he said about you gave him a very uneasy feeling.
What sent him over the edge was that a lot of his grievances sounded identical to Vernon’s own words.
Miss Disney Hag he had called you—to your face he had insulted your taste in films, and you had only laughed. He wondered how you felt when it was Mingyu amplifying those very opinions on a daily basis.
A frown marred his features. Damn it. He knew he was a loser, but he did not know he was an asshole. Like Mingyu…
Vernon visibly shivered.
As Minghao voiced out the objectives for the second half of the seminar, the boy brought his hand into his trouser pocket, slipping out the paper. He looked over your number, the messy scribbles dancing in his eyes. Darting to his phone on the table, he held it in his free hand, looking over the contacts.
“Damn it,” he said under his breath.
Was he going to regret this? Most probably. Will you probably make him do something that would result in a fatal injury, and land a permanent stain on his social record? One hundred percent.
If he knew these things already, then what he should have done was toss the paper in the nearest bin. What he did instead, as he typed in some vital information in his phone, was something that changed his life (or at least the life he will live for the next few weeks).
vernon: u dont have to wait till next week
vernon: ill help u with the plan
There. And now, he shall wait.
Which, he pondered as he saw the immediate response, was not very long.
normal disney enjoyer: wait who tf is this??
Oops.
vernon: oh mb this is vernon lmao
vernon: from the filmstore
normal disney enjoyer: oh damn why didn’t u say so !! freaky ass text
vernon: ??? ive said it now tf
normal disney enjoyer: and im happy u have ;)
Well. Vernon sighed a little, trying to focus back on his work, but to no avail.
Let’s see what you have in store for the next week.
VERNON WAS WONDERING WHETHER HE STILL HAD TIME TO KILL HIMSELF.
It could be quick—maybe if he jumped in front of the next incoming car, full speed, he might suffer a haemorrhage in his brain, and die bleeding out as his parents took him to the hospital. Of course, that does mean that it would be slow and excruciating, but he thought that nothing would be as painful as whatever you had planned for him.
Come on…maybe it won’t be that bad. Perhaps his thoughts were spiralling too quickly. Perhaps his assumptions of you were a stretch, and that all this anxiousness, pent up in him, would wash away the moment he saw your car pulling up to the store’s driveway.
He felt himself prepare mentally as, eventually, your small, red car slowed in front of him. Right before him, he saw the passenger window roll down, and he caught sight of your smiling face, teeth showing.
Perhaps it truly would not be as bad as he imagined.
“Get in loser, we’re going trespassing.”
Nevermind.
“Oh my God,” was the unsatisfying answer to your perfect reference. Seriously, you should not bother saving your precious material on such a lame boy, but there was something so exciting about his eyes sharply rolling, colour staining the tops of his cheeks. “I’m not doing this if you’re going to quote terrible movies the entire night.”
“First of all, fuck you. Mean Girls birthed half of your customers.” You flicked the lock on the passenger door, pushing it open. “Second, you don’t have a choice. You’ve agreed to ruin Mingyu’s life.”
“First of all yourself, I did not agree to that.” Begrudgingly, he settled shotgun, snapping the car door shut. “Second, Mean Girls was a waste of Rachel McAdams’ talent.”
You scoffed, starting the car. “I don’t take opinions from men who can’t drive.”
This shut the boy up nicely, clamping his lips together in quiet shame. He wished he could argue with that—you, he feared, had a good point. Despite that, it was not his fault that his parents insisted on the reliance of public transport; the bus was his greatest villain—aside from the middle school kids in his store that always ask for the next FIFA game.
You could not help taking a second glance at him, chuckling at his defeat. “Don’t be sad, Mr. FIlmbro,” you reassured him, changing gears. “I like my men a little pathetic.”
That did not help at all—his eyes widened, gawking at you, but you were already looking ahead, pressing your foot on the accelerator.
“Jesus!” he exclaimed as he held onto his seat, taken aback by your sudden rush of speed. “I thought you wanted to kill Mingyu, not yourself!”
“My bad,” you only said, turning right. “I’m just so excited! You know, getting there.”
“I can see that,” he mumbled, looking away from you into the back. Strapped in with the seatbelt, bizarrely, was Sofia’s Disney Princess Set, as if the dozen-movie box was a toddler in need of extra assistance. What the fuck…?
“I’m having these films in pristine condition, Vernon,” you explained, though it still made no sense in his head. “You understand, don’t you?”
Of course not. “Sure.”
He waited for further explanation, which, as the silence continued, you decided to throw him the conversational bone. “I don’t just carry the set around with me, you know.”
Sure. “Of course not.”
“It’s relevant to today’s plan,” was all you would offer, speeding more to reach the destination quicker. Vernon held onto the belt a little tighter, still eyeing the movie set rather suspiciously before focusing back on the road.
The drive was not long—perhaps thirty minutes at most—but he knew he was leaving the rougher parts of the city when nicer neighbourhoods welcomed his vision, the litter on the roads disappearing, instead trees in an orderly line painting the sides of the pavement. The further you drove into these suburbs, the more he was surprised at the sheer luxury of the exterior of these houses; granted, he did not originate from poverty, but his idea of a holiday was three days in the comforts of his bed, bingeing the Miyazaki collection with a lifetime supply of mint chocolate chip ice cream on his lap.
Vernon had to save his mouth dropping to the seat of the car floor when they rolled into the Kim household’s drive.
He was aware that Mingyu derived from wealth—the former could not help noticing his pricey, flashy brands every time the taller boy sauntered into the Film Sound classes, but he did not expect this Bridgerton-ass looking house, nestled in between the other million-dollar homes in the neighbourhood. He was greeted with a clearer picture the closer you parked in their drive, surprisingly empty; it was around that moment that you noticed that all the lights were turned off in the house, almost a haunting image.
The boy was on his way to make a comment about your terrible spying skills when you rebuffed him immediately, saying, “I know what you’re thinking. I have it covered.”
“Please tell me, Miss Bond, how are you planning to carry this out?”
You offered him an incredulous look. “I don’t know what that reference means, I’m too pretty.”
His answer to that was a thin, long line of his mouth. You chose to ignore it completely. “Mingyu’s parents are out of town right now, and his sister’s on a ski-trip in Austria.”
A glance of confusion. “In the middle of March?”
A shrug. “You know what rich people are like.” Weirdly enough, he knew exactly what you were talking about. “But it worked out great for us.” With a hard exhale you got out of the car, the boy beside you reflecting your actions. “All the easier for what we have to do.” You opened the car door behind the driver’s one, unstrapping the seatbelt and carefully bringing out the movie set.
“How’re we getting into the evil lair, then?” he asked dryly, crossing both his arms. “I assume the millionaires don’t happen to put a spare key under the carpet?”
“Imagine,” you said, sighing melodramatically. “I tried making them do it so I could sneak into his house, but for some reason, Mingyu never agreed to it.”
“I wonder why,” he muttered.
“Worry not, young grasshopper!” You strolled to the very right of the house, where a thin wooden door was almost hidden from view. “Where there is a door closed, another is mysteriously open.”
With a hard push, the door trudged back, swinging heavily away. He stared at it, not quite believing how someone can be so careless to keep their gates unlocked. “Another weakness of Mingyu’s—” You pointed at the cleared path into the house—”whenever he leaves from the garden, he never locks the gate.”
Vernon could not quite believe it. “Either the wealthy are incredibly secured in their safety, or stupid as fuck.”
“I think you know the answer to that,” you joked, going further into the journey, ushering him over. Like a siren calling his name, he followed you, unaware of the shit you might be getting him into.
Into the fancy garden they arrived, clean-cut hedges bordering in dozens of flower bushes, peppered also with a few fruit trees—berries of every kind ripening on the green. While Vernon admired the natural luxury, you hurried to the nearby shed, where a ladder was situated right beside it. “Quick, help me out here!” you shouted in a whisper, ushering him over. Dropping the DVD set for a moment, you grunted as you held the large ladder up with his assistance, slowly making its way to the brick wall of the house. “Wait, line it up against that window over there,” you instructed, jerking your head towards the far right window, no doubt on the second floor. Once the ladder was lined up properly, you moved the boy out of the way, shaking the rails to make sure it stayed put.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Vernon muttered, watching you take the Disney Princess set in one hand, the other making the first step on the calendar. “We can still…you know, not commit breaking and entering.”
“You can happily leave, Mr. Filmbro,” you offered, looking up at your destination.
That had him scoffing. “My ass is not walking two hours back to my house.”
“That seems more like a you problem then!” you chirped. “Now are you following me up, or pussying out?”
Once again, pussying out seemed like the obvious choice for the boy. He was not made for missions such as these—he was merely meant to watch other people act out said missions in front of his television. Unfortunately, because he was too far away from the film store, it was either sitting it out, waiting for you to come out and do something diabolical, or at least watch over you should you cross a line (if the latter were the case, then Vernon had already failed).
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he kept uttering like a mantra, waiting for you to climb up enough to hold onto the ladder as he began to follow after you. He made the mistake of looking up as you climbed up, and he got a full, HD view of your ass. He tried his very best to look away out of some semblance of respect, but you also made the mindful decision of wearing the shortest skirt known to man. His fuck, fuck fucks! rang louder, causing you to shush him.
“Stop freaking out, my guy!” you called out, right on the top of the ladder. “I know my ass is crazy built but this is not the time.”
“That’s not why I’m freaking out, _____!” he countered, but knowing you, you did not care for his explanations. He only waited as you pushed open the slight-open window, all the way to the top before climbing inside.
As he reached the top of the ladder, he watched you dust yourself before glancing back at him, ushering him inside. “Here goes nothing,” he said to himself, hands on the top of the window ledge as he put his foot on the sill, pushing himself inside.
Vernon dropped into the unknown room, an oof! leaving his mouth as he landed rather ungraciously on his feet. Quickly, he looked up, surroundings rather dimmed due to the lack of lighting. Still, with the help of the moonlight, he could slowly make out the huge smart TV in the middle of the bedroom, beneath it a wide shelf filled with DVDs, some opened and scattered on the carpeted floor. The bed was on the opposite side, right next to the window the two of you had entered in, black and gold sheets tousled and unmade.
As you turned the light on, the boy then made out that Mingyu, in fact, did not have a bed frame, but just a mattress, with the sheets barely done properly. The wall on his left was a full black-shutter closet, where he could see the collection of his designer clothing behind the gaps. Posters were plastered on the rest of the walls, most of them being the Tarantino classics —a reclined, raven-bobbed Uma Thurman watching him with bedroom eyes being the most prominent—with certain papers of autographs also stuck next to the posters. There was another poster—American Beauty and the girl surrounded with rose petals—which had him quickly looking away.
“Jesus,” was all he could say, but he supposed he should not have judged. He himself had only his posters in his room—except he did not have the same taste as a middle-aged incel.
“I know.” You looked around at the familiar space, and the memories you had made here. “Imagine having sex in this hellsite.”
Then the image of you having sex with Mingyu on that messy bed came into his mind, and Vernon could have combusted then and there. “I can’t imagine,” he mumbled out, walking to the door, opening to make sure no one was inside. “_____, are you sure no one’s here?”
“Swear on my life, Mr. Filmbro.”
He had to trust you now—or you had very little respect for your life.
He kept eyeing the DVD set you had in your hand. “Are you still not gonna tell me what we’re doing with that?”
You marched over to the shelf beneath the TV, settling yourself down. “Come here and I’ll show you.” You patted the empty carpet space next to you for added emphasis.
Hesitantly, he obliged, sitting cross-legged next to you. Finger pointing as it scoured the shelf, you carefully brought out one of the films from Mingyu’s selection, all the while sliding out a Disney film from your own set. “Now, tell me,” you began, as you showed him the two movies. “Do you think The Dark Knight and Mulan are a good match?”
First pulling a face at the choice, he then resorted to keeping his twist of features as he turned to you. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“So like, you know Mulan is a woman disguising herself as a soldier in order to defeat the Huns and save her father’s honour, right,” you explained, though you had a small feeling he was not particularly listening. “And Batman is the same thing, except he dresses up as a fucking bat…stupid furry.”
Vernon could not understand how you compared one of the most beautiful, nuanced depictions of a broken, three-dimensional superhero into a furry, but he needed to get to the bottom of your plan, once and for all. “No, I mean, what are you doing? Why the hell are we here?”
You tutted extra loud. “I’m gonna swap the CDs, dumbass!” You held up the princess movie. “Thought Mingyu could say to me that Disney princess movies sucked, huh?” Then, the classic DVD’s turn to rise. “Let’s see how he’ll like watching a talking dragon in China instead of a talking bat in Fantasyland!”
The boy could only watch, shock growing with the successful swap of the movies, the secret Mulan CD safely tucked into the The Dark Knight’s DVD case. “It’s Gotham, actually,” he murmured, but he knew you were not listening. “Wait, _____, we really just snuck into your ex’s house to swap a few movies?”
You looked up briefly as you began opening another DVD case. “I mean, if you want to trash the place, that’s fine, but you can’t do anymore than what Mingyu’s dirty ass hasn’t done already.”
Fair point. “I think you’re going insane. Like, clinically.” He kept looking at the door, which was closed shut. “He’ll kill us if he catches us.”
“Forget about us, you’re barely doing anything!” you exclaimed, tossing some of Mingyu’s movies to him. “Can you actually help me instead of complaining?”
What he should have done was argue with you properly, perhaps even make his escape and leave you to dig your own grave. Sure, he could not drive, but was it not just three pedals, a wheel and a dream? He could have left, never to see you again.
But then his eyes wandered to the Inception DVD scattered beside you, no doubt collateral damage as you took out the other Nolan films, and saw a Disney Princess movie sitting beside it. Sleeping Beauty, it read out, with the picture of some skinny blonde chick slumbering with a man overlooking her. He thought it a bit strange, almost creepy how this brunette was watching her.
And then an idea came into his head.
He closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, clamping his lips together. Please forgive me, Mr. Nolan, for what I’m about to do.
Hand reaching out to grasp both DVDs, he opened one of his favourites, unclipping the CD. You glanced at him, swapping the movies around. You could not help your stare lingering a little, watching his lips pout, brows furrowed as he fixed the new CD in the Nolan set, as if the task was a serious one. Well, it was a serious task for you, but you expected more complaining.
When he looked up, he managed to catch a small smile on your lips before he quickly looked away. “And now you’re slacking,” he accused, closing the DVD and setting it atop the newly improved.
“What’s the plot for Inception?” you asked him, cracking open The Princess and The Frog.
“I thought you knew, since you laughed at me for saying it was my favourite.”
“I don’t know the full thing,” you admitted. “The only reason I knew about it was because Mingyu never shut up about it…sorry about that, by the way.”
Vernon sighed. “It’s fine…if I made fun of your Disney favourites, then bullying me for Nolan isn’t the worst…I think.” He looked at your new suggestion before picking out Alien from Mingyu’s selection. “A thief has to implant an idea into this powerful guy’s mind, and he does this through infiltrating other people’s dreams. However, he has to be asleep while he does it.”
As you began to laugh, he threw you an irritated look. You shook your head, unable to erase your smile. “That’s a really good match.”
His eyes widened for a moment, mouth parting. For a moment (and he did not know whether he was going to regret making this assertion), he did not care for Christopher Nolan’s disrespect, after seeing your reaction.
With that, the two of you sat in near silence, the crisp opening and closing of the DVDs, the sliding of the discs being the only sound between the two of you. The Princess of the Frog was successfully matched with the Alien—you, unsurprisingly, had not watched the movie, but Vernon had watched both (one against his will, which you could guess), and thought it the best match. Brave was slotted into The Revenant's case, while Beauty and the Beast went straight into Pan’s Labyrinth’s.
“Okay so…” the boy held up the Pocahontas CD. “Native American princess falls for the coloniser? How the fuck are you defending this?”
You could only offer a sheepish smile. “The soundtrack is really good?”
“Knowing Disney,” he crowed, cracking open the DVD, “They probably have a song on how terrible the poor Natives are.”
You eyed him, surprised. “How the hell did you guess that?”
First, Vernon made a face, as if he himself could not believe his excellent intuition. Then, he only laughed a little, taking out the Dances with Wolves DVD from the shelf. “I’ve watched enough Disney movies with my sister to know how they work.”
“Oh, so you have watched them?” you mused, watching him exchange the discs. “All that time I thought you only watched what Mingyu watched.”
“No, I watch foreign indie films like an asshole,” he clarified, shutting the cases, and putting Dances with Wolves back on the shelf. “The thing is, I still have my grievances against the super popular films. You know the list you mentioned to me the other day?” You nodded. “Most of these film junkies get off on those movies. I’ll admit I like them, but I’ve seen so much better.”
You snorted. “Like Inception?” Vernon watched you for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “What? You asked him, tilting your head.
He followed your movement—he too, craned his head, his brown curls cascading along his forehead. “Like Inception…and better.”
“Better?” you gasped out, fingers rising to your bottom lip in shock. “Does Mr. Filmbro prefer a movie over Nolan’s grand—no, best release ever?!”
“Ha, ha,” he monotoned, only adding to your amusement. “It’s still his best film! But,” he added, shrugging a little, “I may or may not have lied to you the first time we met. Inception’s not my favourite movie.”
“What?!” you could barely contain your grin. “Oh my God, if I find out it’s a fucking Disney movie, I’m never letting you live it down!”
“Let’s not go that far,” he jeered, earning a harsh nudge of your elbow. “Hey! You should be thanking me for my honesty.”
“How about you extend that honesty and tell me which movie is your favourite?”
Vernon mocked a ponder. “It’s a hard pass.”
“Come on!” you pressed, scooting a little closer, almost reaching out as if to nudge him some more. “You’ve already committed a felony with me. Telling me your favourite movie is naturally the next step.”
“Because that’s obviously how normal human interaction goes,” he countered, sarcasm clear in his voice.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me!”
“Hmm…no!” he repeated, assembling the last of the DVDs. “Maybe if we raid Mingyu’s house next time.”
“Oh?” Leaning closer, you paused his hands on the movie sets. “Do you want there to be a next time?”
It was then Vernon realised the implications of your question, a consequence of his own suggestion. It was almost comical, how his eyes widened like full moons, and he immediately shook his head. “Now you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” you asked him, and the way he exposed a slight stutter at your question had you laughing. “Would you want to see me again?”
What Vernon wanted to tell you was no, no, no, because another second with you would end with all the blood in his system rushing to his head, and other places. Damn everything and everyone, he would want to see you again—no. No. He wouldn’t. He would not.
“You haven’t answered the question,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
The boy was about to stutter out an answer when the two of you heard a door slam downstairs.
You whirled back, eyes instantly darting to the door. They then focused back on you, widened very much like his not long ago. “_____,” Vernon muttered.
“Mr. Filmbro…”
The furrow of his brow appeared for a split-second before it disappeared at the shuffling underneath. “What the fuck do we do?” he gulped out, looking around to find anywhere to escape from. This was it—he thought he was getting away with trespassing just because you had convinced him to, but that fuckass ex-boyfriend was going to catch them in his bedroom, two inches away from kissing you, and—
“Wait,” you then said, catching his wrist in your hand. He barely had time to react to it before you shot up from your seated position, hauling the boy along with you. He stumbled, but then you nearly made him fall flat on his face as you ran to the shutter closets, sliding them straight open. The inside was a mess of branded clothing and boxes of sports equipment, but there was one opening with just enough for two people in trouble to hide.
You first went in, and, with a harsh tug, pulled him in with you. He crashed into you, but you had enough control to slide the shutter door shut. There was so much commotion that when you both finally stilled, breathing harshly as you heard Mingyu enter the room, Vernon blinked back to see your face about two inches away from him.
He was going to yelp—strong on going to, because you sensed his incoming shock, and smacked your hand against his mouth. His eyebrows could have touched the top of his forehead, but what you noticed the most was the warmth of his skin, burning the longer your touch lingered on his lips.
The smile you offered him as you put a finger to your lips had him almost passing out.
“Yeah, man, come round whenever,” was all Vernon could hear, still not comprehending Mingyu’s speech due to your hand. “No, Minseo’s not here, what the fuck? Why do you wanna know where my sister is?”
Slowly, ever so carefully as not to alert him, you pulled down on one of the blinds of the shutter, spying the movie which he was about to see. Vernon should have been following your movements, but he could only sense you, inching closer and closer to him till you were pressed against him. Of course, you were only trying to better your vision of your ex-boyfriend, but the boy beside you could not focus. The hand on his mouth—God—he needed, so badly, to be put down. Your fingers were soft, and although his lips could not help brushing against your palm, everything in him resisted the urge to react.
Quickly glancing at your accomplice in glee, you dropped your hand from his mouth, silently urging him to watch. He could have rebelled against your pulling away, but he instead obliged. Bringing his face next to yours, he glanced at you one last time before peering at the vision that welcomed.
There he was, the golden boy, raking his hair as he strolled into the middle of the room, observing the TV before him, and the DVD player sitting at the bottom. He kept humming, as if agreeing with whoever was on the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go to that party later…no, I’m not bringing _____! You know about that already!”
The boy in hiding quickly snuck a peek at you, who soured a little at the mention. “Hmm? Yeah, whatever. What? Nah, I’m just gonna watch a chill movie before leaving.” Mingyu scanned the films on his shelf. Walking over, he leaned down, sliding out The Shape of Water from his collection, cradling his phone between his shoulder blade and his craned head as he opened the DVD.
Vernon could not help pulling a face at Mingyu’s choice of a ‘chill movie’ being a film about a mute woman wanting to fuck a water creature. You probably did not understand the reference, but by the growing anticipation on your face, you only cared about the scene you two had created, and was about to unfold just then.
Mingyu slid the CD into the player, pressing play as he made his way to his frameless bed, settling down in the sheets. “Yeah…no, no, it’s just starting.”
The two of you could hear clearly the opening credits, which began with the most obnoxious opening music of Disney’s intro. Vernon was taken aback by how Mingyu did not realise it from that very moment, but considering he was too busy chatting pure shit on the phone, laughing to himself, the boy assumed he was simply waiting for the action to occur.
“Any minute now, Mr. Filmbro,” you whispered, oh-so-fucking close to him. He did not respond, merely a nod.
Craning his head to see through the shutters, he noticed the animation come to life, the ship within dangerous waters sailing with uncertainty. He snuck a quick glance at Mingyu’s face, which started garnering a little confusion.
“Are these extra credit scenes? I don’t remember any of this,” he heard the OG filmbro complain.
You could not help the snort that escaped you. Vernon glared at you, but with little effect. “What?” you whispered. “I don’t remember him being this thick.”
“What the fuck is this cartoon…” the two of you heard Mingyu pipe up. Finally, the buffoon is realising this is not the two-time Oscar winning animation, but the four-time Oscar winning CGI. “This wasn’t in the director’s cut.”
You still could not believe how your ex-boyfriend was taking this long for the realisation to hit. Even when Eric jumped up on the screen, holding onto the ship’s ropes, the watcher only regarded the character intently, as if he was somehow part of the stranger film.
Only when, fifteen minutes in, Atlantis is finally introduced that something clicked in his brain. Mingyu tilted his head, thinking out loud. “What the fuck…?”
Getting up from where he sat, he ended the call, informing whoever was on the other side that he would meet later. He took out the CD from the player, examining its exterior. “Can’t see shit on this CD…” He was not wrong—you were smart, choosing the discs which did not have any images, confusing the boy all the more. “Maybe I put in the wrong one…”
He shrugged it off, taking out The Dark Knight instead, another easy, breezy movie to watch when The Shape of Water did not pull through. Now Nolan was a hard one to criticise—Vernon himself was a huge fan, but seeing Mingyu try to watch it irked him. A good thing, then, was it not, that he was bound for a second surprise?
Repeating the routine, he slid the secret CD, settling back into his frameless bed. “Great minds, huh?” you whispered to him, and Vernon only rolled his eyes, not enjoying the dig against him in the slightest.
“You dated him,” he griped, watching the movie start up.
“Waste of good looks,” you whispered, your partner-in-crime nodding in agreement. The movie beginning had you both falling silent as a bird of prey hits on one of the soldier’s heads. The scene is set in the cold mountains of China, but the sole audience does not catch it immediately.
“So fucking weird…” Mingyu trailed off again, leaning forwards. “This isn’t the robbery scene…”
Of course it was not—the idiot would not witness one of the best film openings in Vernon’s humble opinion. He would not feast his eyes to the workings of Joker’s bank robbery, nor the cold one-liners from the incapacitated bank manager.
No, what he was served was the Huns crossing the Northern border, which, as the boy finally began to clock after a good ten minutes, was not what he was expecting.
“What the…” once again, he heaved himself up, walking over to the player. “Now I know something’s wrong…”
Both you and Vernon stretched further close, as much as the closet would allow, to peek at Mingyu’s frustration as he brought the CD out once more, examining the back and front. He then took out some more of his favourites, opening their cases and taking out the CDs, observing them closely. He was suspicious now. How could he not be, when he was expecting incel excellence, but was greeted with the same shit his younger sister—his crazy ex-girlfriend, even—would usually watch.
He blinked back.
His deathly stillness had the two trespassers pausing. You two looked at each other, faces losing any humour, perhaps recognising that he had clocked on. You watched the scene as Mingyu rapidly added one CD after another, expecting one movie only to have a Disney-fied replacement, completely botching his plans. Every movie that received such Disneyfication further enraged him, the grit in his teeth heard, the tick in his jaw visible.
The final straw was when the Godfather was slotted in, his all-time, unmatched favourite. There was darkness for the first few minutes, and he sighed too quickly in relief, about to lay back on his mattress.
Then, a curly-haired girl, a toddler at best, in huge green glasses becomes visible, being told to open her eyes.
“Is this where magic comes from?”
“What the fuck?!”
And as a conversation between the little girl and her elderly grandmother blossomed, there was a specific dialogue which sent the young boy over the edge.
“This candle became a magical flame that would never grow out…and it blessed us with a refuge in which to live…a place of wonder…An Encanto.”
You nearly burst out laughing.
Mingyu, on the other hand, could have seen red.
“Who fucked with my CDs?!” he demanded to no one in particular, though in his mind he knew there was a culprit. “My fucking CDs, man!”
“Did you do the Godfather swap?” you whispered, barely able to contain yourself.
“Two special families with one heir that doesn’t feel connected to their lifestyle.” Vernon grinned at you, impressed with himself. “It was too easy.”
“Where did you even find the Encanto DVD? It wasn’t in our set.”
“I found it in his little filmbro shelf.” He ticked his head towards the boy in physical agony. “My guess is that his sister is a Disney fan and left it in his mancave.”
“Oh my God,” you got out, watching the melodramatic scene of your dear ex show rage akin to a teenage boy losing Call of Duty online.
“That fucking bitch,” he guttered, over and over again as he threw the Encanto CD across the room. Those words came out, and the boy behind the shutters stiffened. Okay—there is rage, and then there is straight up promise of violence. Vernon may not be much of a knight, but if they were caught, he knew he would have to protect you.
He hoped to everything that existed that it would not have to come to that—Vernon would rather fake having a heart attack and have you drag his body out of the Kim Manor.
It seemed as that might have been a real possibility, until the boy called out a threat to a name they were not expecting.
“Minseo, I’m gonna kill you!” Mingyu roared as he stormed out of the room, undoubtedly on his way to destroy her room, even take his anger out on her Jellycat collection.
As you heard his frenzy disappear down the halls, the trespassers took this as the opportunity to escape the closet, Vernon already creating a little distance in case you come too close and cause his passing out.
“We need to get out now,” he declared as you crept out of the wardrobe, his head whipping to the door which Mingyu left from.
You nodded, not quite looking at him as you dashed straight for the final DVD. “Oh, Jesus,” He groaned, watching you scramble for the movie, trying horrifically to hide it within your clothes. “You do realise he can come in any second!”
“Okay, okay,” you said, hurrying over to the window. “Wait, you can go first.”
Vernon raised a brow, following after you. “How come you don’t want to go first?”
You only ushered him further, grinning. “You can peek at my ass again.”
“My eyes will be closed,” he sniped, already carrying it out, trying his absolute best not to imagine your ass in his mind—maybe stakeouts for goofy purposes were not for the weak-willed. “You know, just for that alone, you’re going down first.”
“Whatever suits you, Mr. Filmbro,” you almost chanted, aggravating him all the more as you stepped out of the window, beginning the trek down.
He looked down as you descended with one film in hand, still stealing glances at the only door in the room, terrified that the boy would burst through the door, see you both and bring about his downfall. Subconsciously, his fingers hovered just before his mouth, biting the skin around his nails. He knew he should have run himself over with an oncoming vehicle. A messy plan, but still fool-proof.
“Stop panicking and come down here!” your voice snapped him out of his anxious frenzy. “I know you’re biting your nails off right now!”
The boy instantly repelled his hand, instead furrowing his brow. A little irritating—scary, as well, really—how predictable he was in your eyes. How quickly you had figured him out.
“Alright,” he said, absent-mindedly as he reached for the windowsill. He peaked down again, not realising how far down the descent truly was. Rationally, he knew it was not the worst drop he’d seen on the first floor, but the nerves had started affecting his mind. Now, this entire time he was watching you take one step, two steps down, but he did not have the strength to follow you.
Still, he knew it was now or never.
Vernon was going to be at your heels (or, more anatomically correct, at your head) when he heard a shuffle from behind him.
He whipped his head around, anticipating the worst.
The worst arrived in all his golden-skinned, empty-headed glory. Holding one of his DVDs, Kim Mingyu stood at the doorway, his eyes widening with every second they beheld the intruder, one leg out of the house, the other a moment away from heaving him up.
Oh. Jesus. Christ.
“The nerd from film theory?”
Vernon’s face dropped.
The Nerd from Film Theory? The Nerd from fucking Film Theory?
It was then and there, in that exact moment of time, that the filmbro in question did not give a single care for what the popular boy thought of him. Vernon knew everything about this boy (whether he wanted to or not); his every class, his every terrible friend, even his film preferences, thanks to yours truly. Yet Mingyu did not even know his name—did not even bother to remember.
It was because of that that he managed to garner some essence of his bravado, finally settling both feet on the ladder steps.
He also decided to add in some corrections to Mingyu’s knowledge.
“Jo March did not need any man after Laurie…in fact, she did not need any male support, asshole.”
For added effect, he raised his middle finger, as if the burn was sick enough to hurt.
Mingyu’s devastating response was a confused tilt of his head, clearly not understanding his reference.
It was enough time for Vernon to hurry his descent down, catching the former more off guard.
“What the fuck—” was all the boy heard before he quickly tried to travel downwards, feet nearly slipping on the steps by his sheer carelessness. Mingyu’s head popped out from the window, and saw the great ladder leaning against the sill, shocked gaze lowering to where Vernon was descending to.
When his eyes found yours, he could have choked on his gulp. Even more so when you smirked at him.
“_____?”
As Vernon finally dropped off the ladder, dusting himself off, he watched the two of you, staring each other down. When he gauged Mingyu’s fear of you, there was a small part of him that was filled with admiration.
Mingyu’s demand sounded more like a whimper. “What are you doing here?”
You only curled your lips further upwards, grinning like a wild animal. It chilled your ex-boyfriend to the bone when you held the Tangled CD up for him to see, with your other hand raising your middle finger.
“This is for calling me a stupid bitch.”
His mouth dropped open. That gave you just enough time to grab onto Vernon’s hand, enveloping your fingers around his wrist.
And run for your life.
Vernon let out a yelp as he was yanked forward by your hold, barely hearing Mingyu’s loud curses and retreating back into the house, no doubt to follow after you two—the trespasser could only guess, much too occupied by your hand, a guiding beacon of mischief, never absent in his life as you ran and ran and ran out of the garden, out of the sleek maze which you two first entered, catching sight of the open garden gate.
The boy heard distant footsteps coming from the house, and as you both saw your car parked beyond the greater gates, you fished out your keys, finally letting go of his hand to dash over to the driver’s side, jamming the key in the lock. Vernon let out a startled noise as the car unlocked, wasting no time to jump inside, heart beating loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear. Mingyu appeared at the main doorstep at the exact same time, even more shocked to realise he had not noticed his ex-girlfriend’s car casually parked before him.
Just as you climbed inside, swivelling the keys into ignition, Mingyu began to run after the car, a mere ten seconds between him and catching you two.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _____, just start it already!” the nervous boy in shotgun begged, his head swivelling back at every chance, heart lurching at every metre closer the filmnemesis crept.
The car revved to life at your signal.
It was time to get the fuck out of here.
“GO, GO, GO!” Vernon screamed at the top of his voice, fisting the handle at the roof of the car as you slammed on the accelerator, racing out of the driveway with Mingyu’s bellowing following after you. Of course, since he was a mere, enraged college student, and you both were in a (slight) state-of-the-art vehicle, you zoomed out of the neighbourhood, his curses fading with every turn further out, you managing to escape.
Vernon, because he had never done such a thing before, was still screaming to leave for the next ten minutes until you had had enough, swerving to the side of the road, not far from his DVD store. You almost crashed into the nearby park, frightening a few birds that expected peace within the sidewalk trees, only to be disturbed by a troublesome ex and a film-obsessed loser.
You gushed out an exhale, fingers gripping tightly to the wheel, almost as stunned as the boy beside you, who seemed to take in the town’s worth of air in his little body. But then, you realised the gravity of the situation, the sole movie at the back which could not be swapped, and the valiant escape from something you never thought you would come out of alive.
Just then, you burst into laughter.
The boy whirled his head to you, who could not stop the tumbles of laughter that escaped your mouth, hanging on to the car wheel as you cackled and cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West. Well, that was what you thought you sounded at that time, but you, as always, did not care.
Only that you were wrong—at least in Vernon’s eyes. You were wrong, because if you were laughing like some Disney villain, then he would have been more pissed off—enraged even. He was instead in awe, shocked at the raw guffawing that spluttered out of you without shame. Had the two of you not evaded a great danger? Nearly been arrested for your legally ambiguous behaviour?
For the first time in his life, he was not embroiled with dread.
There was no anxiety in his body, no essence of panic at the consequences of your actions. No, he could only stare at you and your mirth, and find himself raising his brows, the beginnings of a scoffed laugh creeping from his lips.
The more he looked at you, the more his own laughter joined yours.
And then you were both laughing, giggling beyond control at the narrow escape, and the near crash against some tree. Vernon knew how stupid this whole situation was, but strangely, he did not seem to care—not when you did not see it like that. A very odd prospect.
After a few minutes, when it finally seemed as if you would settle down, you sighed, leaning back into the driver’s seat. “We should do that again.”
Despite the amusement lingering, he immediately shut the idea down. “Not a chance.”
You admired the ancient lining of the tree’s bark in front of the car. “The way you were laughing with me just now, you’d think you want to commit crimes from now on.”
A dramatic roll of eyes. “I’m not going to jail. They don’t even have a TV there.”
“You and your fuck ass movie collection…”
That brought out another chuckle from the boy—you smiled at the notion. He then looked at the rearview mirror, where the last movie was splayed, all alone and away from the others. “Kind of a shame we missed out on one last movie.”
“Right?” You followed his line of sight. “Fuck, Tangled of all movies?”
“Wait, isn’t that the one with Rapunzel?”
You let out an impressed hum. “A week of seeing my face, and you’re already catching on!” A mischievous raise of brows. “Another month with me and you can sing all the tracks from the film.”
“You really shouldn’t have this much faith in me, _____,” he said, shaking his head. “Plus, this might be the one movie I didn’t watch with Sofe.” He saw you perk up at the new name. “My sister. She’s the one who forced me to watch all those Disney films years ago.”
“I like her already,” you mused, a finger on your chin. You paused for a bit, looking down at your shoes, settled lightly upon the pedals. Then, you started the engine once more. “So…Tangled is the only one you haven’t watched, huh.”
A glance at you. “Yep.”
You looked back, hoping to reverse away from the tree. “Right…” You checked your watch, the car slowly moving out of the pavement. “Interesting…super duper interesting.”
It was something insane, fantastical the way Vernon’s nerves seemed to hum at the implications. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“What? I just said that it’s interesting you’ve never watched Tangled…”
The boy scoffed, crossing his arms. “This is where you’re gonna force me to watch the stupid movie.”
But then he caught the look of surprise on your face, as if you had been caught. “Oh, Jesus, you’re not gonna let me out the car, are you?”
“No, no!” you countered at once, raising your hands. “Well, yes as in I was hoping you would watch the movie with me, and no, I won’t force you.” You sighed a little, fingers back on the wheel. “You’ve already done so much today. If you want to go home, I’ll drive you straight there.”
He watched your expression, the prepared acceptance, the anticipation—the sliver of hope, hiding itself amongst the flurry of other emotions. In all honesty, he was tired; the entirety of this evening had exhausted his social battery (which he doubted he had to begin with) and he still had some sound image work left back at the college studio. If it was any other person asking, he would have happily bunked them off—pretended that he had suddenly developed a terminal illness in the span of minutes, and begged them to drive him back home to ‘live out the rest of his days’.
You, on the other hand, were a problem. He could not let you down—not anymore. Not after today.
When he let out a soft sigh, you were anticipating the worst. Then, he revealed the answer.
“Let’s watch a fucking Disney Princess movie.”
VERNON DID NOT WANT TO WATCH A FUCKING DISNEY PRINCESS MOVIE.
The moment you opened the door to your house—a shabby, student house about twenty minutes from campus—stepping inside, he realised there was no way back, and that he had to humour your wish, or else lose respect in your eyes.
As you brought him down the small hallway, leading into the little living room, you quickly grabbed the takeout boxes of your flatmates, murmuring hurried apologies as you left the room. The boy looked around, the slight cracks of the blue walls, the 32” TV sitting at the opposite end of the fraying couches. Posters of Bridget Jones, Notting Hill, and other Hugh Grant movies were plastered on one end of the wall, while Vernon nearly had a jumpscare when he caught a life-size cardboard cutout of some Disney hero—this one unrecognisable.
“That’s the love of my life you’re staring at,” came the voice behind him, and he whirled to see you, a huge bowl of popcorn cradled in your hands. “Why’re you standing in the middle like an idiot? Sit, sit!” Vernon obliged, making to settle on the sofas when you tutted. “Are you mental? No, sit on the bean bags near the TV!”
How stupid of me to assume I could sit on furniture designed for sitting, he meant to crow, but the moment he settled on the bean bags, he instantly preferred their malleable comfort. When he let out a relaxed sigh, you huffed out a laugh, propping the bowl before him. “See?”
“I was gonna say…” Vernon trailed off, watching you press a few buttons on the DVD player. “Where’s the CD?”
“Already in,” you said, picking up the remote as you settled in the beanbag next to him, scooting closer. Catching a look at his face, you bellowed, “Yes, Mr. Filmbro, I watched it recently!”
“How recently are we saying?”
“...yesterday evening.”
“And this is the masterpiece you wanna show me,” Vernon murmured, sneaking a look back at the cardboard cutout. “Don’t tell me he’s the floozy that’s leading the film.”
You turned the TV on. “Fine. I won’t tell you.”
He then looked at you. “Oh, Jesus.”
“Trust me!” you then reasoned, putting a hand on the boy’s knee—the mere touch had his brain rewiring, nerves all ceasing to work on the one point where your touch remained. You really had to stop—first your hand was on his mouth in that damned (blessed) closet, and now this soft reminder. He tried his best not to fix his eyes on your lingering fingers as you carried on, “This film is a modern classic. I promise.”
Well shit, he thought. When you looked at him like that, you could have convinced him that Quentin Tarantino was a better foot fetishiser than a filmmaker.
“Okay,” he said, almost believing in your words.
With that, the landing page for the movie turned on, and there were the main characters; he assumed the chick with the long, blonde hair was Rapunzel, and the man behind her—which, Vernon thought, did not deserve to be celebrated as a life-sized cardboard cutout—was the love interest. Whatever.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he mumbled as you pressed the fated Play, anticipating the worst.
And as the two of you fell silent, Vernon still holding out on the popcorn, watching suspiciously at the screen, the voice of a man flooded the TV speaker.
“This…this is the story of how I died.”
The boy immediately reacted, face dropping. “The fuck?” he got out, catching the WANTED! Poster of the very man he bad-mouthed not two minutes ago.
“But don’t worry, this is actually a fun story…and the truth is…it isn’t even mine.”
“Wait, this dude is already dead?” he asked.
“Just watch the movie!” you answered impatiently, making the boy sigh and lean back into the bean bag.
“This is the story of a girl named Rapunzel. And it starts…with the sun.”
You wanted to keep your eyes rooted to the screen, watch the unfurling of Mother Gothel’s backstory, but that was precisely when the incessant complaining began.
“Now why are we already getting context of some random witch’s actions? Less telling, more showing, man!” Vernon kept his arms crossed, shaking his head at the TV. “Oh, great, poor little king and queen in their big ass castle!”
“Having basic sympathy will take you great places, my guy,” you merely said, scoffing down the popcorn in the bowl. “Their kid just got stolen by some crazy bitch.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, piping down once more when the flashbacks ceased, and the present day was introduced into the story. On the screen, a small, green chameleon entered, camouflaging himself behind a pot of flowers. He guessed that the chick with the long hair—Rapunzel—would be finding him, and, lo and behold, he was right. In all fairness, though, it did not take a film degree to work that out.
He also did not need a film degree to guess that a musical number was about to be introduced, not even ten minutes into the movie. That he worked out all by himself, when the guitar riffs sounded. Beside him, you instantly brightened, smile widening as TANGLED morphed on the screen, the song about to begin.
It was around that point when, as he spared you a glance, he realised you were about to sing along.
“Oh, Jesus—”
If his life was a romantic film, this would have been the perfect setup; the girl that made his heart flutter was seated dangerously close to him, bean bags already touching with shoulders barely following, watching the cheesiest animated movie. He could have seen the shot now, with his gaze turning rose-y as you would open your mouth and sing along to the song. Of course, you would sing beautifully, better than the original singer, and he would sit there, absolutely mesmerised.
Oh, he was stunned alright.
“SEVEN AM THE USUAL MORNING, LINE UP—!”
The boy flinched at the sheer volume of your chant—screech would be the better word for it, for he guessed singing was not one of your natural talents.
You could not see his judgement at all, eyes closed and clutching your fists to your chest, continuing the song. “START ON THE FLOOR AND SWEEP TILL THE FLOOR’S ALL CLEEEEEANNNN—!”
A scoff escaped him, not quite believing the scene before him. He was shocked to silence, the movie’s music now in his background, the forefront being your attempt to outsing the princess. Either no one had told you how horrendous your singing was, or you simply did not care for the opinions of others. A part of him hoped that it was the latter—for you to be so comfortable in singing away, despite what others thought, made his judgement disappear.
Shamelessly you sang the entire number, up to the point where the scene cuts and the supposedly hot love interest—whose name was Flynn Rider, apparently, which he should have known if he just read the poster at the start of the movie like a normal viewer—was now trying to steal the crown jewels.
Vernon was too busy thinking about how stupid ‘Flynn Rider’ was as a name to realise that another song had just started. Immediately you changed your tune, your tone lowering, almost sultry.
This time, you looked at him when you started singing.
“Look at you, as fragile as a flower…”
“Ayo?” A glance at the TV screen, where Mother Gothel was now singing. “Another song?”
But you did not answer his question, only singing further as you reached your hand out to him. “Still a little sapling, just a sprout!” You continued, and, at that, your hand patted his mess of curls atop his head, mirroring Mother Gothel’s actions.
Blinking back repeatedly, he could not even shrug it off, stunned once again by how you were casually able to touch him and not feel anything—while his entire system shuts down like a lagging desktop when it tries to run the Sims.
The overdramatic flair was present in your singing, changed from the sweetness of the previous song. It was crazy how you remembered each word, not slipping at any chorus—you were a true fan, a committed admirer of the film. Even he could not comprehend knowing every single line of his favourites.
It was admirable indeed—to love a film as you did this one.
It was what made Vernon smile a little, turning away from your melodrama and focusing on the screen, where Mother Gothel now threatened to never be asked to leave the tower. Again.
This time, he would give the movie a chance. Thank God he decided to wake up.
The movie picked up the pace instantly—he had not expected Flynn to meet—and be whacked out by Rapunzel’s frying pan—so quickly, and had reflected her dejection when the mother screamed at her. He could tell where this was going, especially with the thief now in the closet, but he found himself grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl without turning away from the screen.
By the time the third song of the movie came around, he was taken aback that it arrived further in, surrounded by the thugs of the Snuggly Duckling. Without realising, he turned to you, anticipating you breaking out into a song, but you were merely watching the movie, bobbing your head along to the beat.
Noticing his stare, you glanced at him. “Expecting a show?”
“Since you were giving them out without request, I figured this time would be like any other.”
You snorted, grabbing the popcorn. “I’m saving my heavenly voice for the best song, actually.”
Vernon mocked a gasp. “So you’re telling me Mother Knows Best isn’t the best feature?”
“Don’t chat shit, Mr. Filmbro, because Mother Knows Best is one of the top five.”
“I look forward to seeing which song you’re holding out for,” he only said, turning back to the movie again. The popcorn ran out about this time, and you shot up from your bean bag, promising more as you exited the room, leaving him to continue.
By the time you returned, the protagonists were escaping, chaos ensuing all around them with the guards, his partners and that eccentric white horse chasing them. Ending up in the cave, they recognise a lack of way out, and although Vernon was aware that the movie ends on the happiest note, a small part of him filled with dread.
That dread disappeared instantly when Flynn confessed his little secret.
“Eugene Fitzherbert?!” The boy demanded.
You chuckled at his disdain. “Yeah, Flynn Rider was hotter. Eugene Fitzherbert ages him about forty years.”
“Flynn Rider was silly, but Eugene is straight up diabolical.”
“He is still fuckable regardless!” you shushed him, raising your pointer at him. “You wish you had his sex appeal.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let me just change my name to Bartholomew Whiteman real quick.”
“Hey!” you whacked him on the arm, this time laughing heartily at his quip. “Let my man live!”
He decided to spare your fictional man any more bullying, taking in the town atmosphere where the two adventurers and Maximus had now ended up. “Ooooo, the castle dances are my favourite scenes!” you gushed, scooping popcorn in one hand and eating with the other. “Wait, look, look at the braid!”
“Jeez, I’m looking!” he insisted, watching the girls braid Rapunzel’s hair. Flynn—which Vernon is continuing to identify him as, because Eugene was too much for him—stared at her longingly at the results. Vernon used the popcorn as an excuse to gaze at you matching Flynn’s longing at the screen. Your head rested on your knees, locking your hands in front of them, forming a lazy smile. This smile remained throughout Rapunzel and Eugene’s activities, even to the point when the couple were settled in a boat, waiting for the lights.
“It’s happening,” you declared, the smile widening as you released your legs from your hands. “Oh my God, it’s fucking happening!”
Raising the volume, the boy watched the screen, where thousands of lanterns were sparking alight at the king and queen’s signal. The lanterns’ lights broke across the borders of the town, melting into the sea, the docked ships. Rapunzel had not noticed though, too busy dropping flower heads upon the water’s surface, Flynn helpfully holding out the bunch.
As the princess dropped another upon the waterbed, she finally noticed the beginning.
It was then Vernon heard your favourite Disney song.
“All those days, watching from the window…All those years, outside looking in…”
You followed this time, not as loud as the other songs, quiet and soft, as if letting the blonde shine in her song. “All that time, never even knowing, just how blind I’ve been…””
You exhibited the same excitement as Rapunzel, who, noticing the lanterns, threw off Flynn’s balance, hanging onto the curling bow of the boat.
The boy, however, was not really focused on the screen.
Because the music that surrounded the two crept into his ears, playing the strings of his senses; because the lights were off save for the TV, shining its dimmed lighting upon your face, making you glow with the dark purples, blues, golds of the Tangled scenery. He lost all interest in everything because you were looking something out of a daydream, watching the events of the movie as if they were scenes of salvation. The two of you were definitely not on any kind of boat, merely sitting on bean bags. Despite all of that, he began to float—swaying from where he sat, as if he was truly settled on water.
“Now I’m here—” You put your hand to your chest— “Blinking in the starlight…now I’m here, suddenly I see…”
You kept singing the lyrics, voice more subdued than your last outbursts, and Vernon could only watch you, the pure love of this song radiating off your very pores. Vernon’s anticipation rose with every octave of the singer’s voice rising, eyes never leaving your face, the parted mouth.
“Standing here, it’s oh! so clear…!”
As the viewers themselves were about to observe the thousands of lanterns Rapunzel witnessed, Vernon himself waiting, he made the mistake of averting his gaze from you, if only to see the grand reveal.
It was what made you unconsciously envelop your fingers with his, clasping his hand with yours.
He whipped his head to yours, eyes widening to the point of spilling.
You were already looking at him.
When you sang the next lyrics, Vernon could have melted molten.
“I’m where I’m meant to be!”
And as the lanterns surrounded the protagonists, lighting up the entirety of the night, you sang the chorus to the boy in your little college flat, no one to witness it but two of you.
“And at last I see the light! And it’s like the fog has lifted!”
Your voice was hoarse now, all the screech-singing catching up to you. Vernon, in another lifetime, would have instantly resisted, ran for the hills if it was literally anyone else in the room but you.
“And at last I see the light! And it’s like the sky…is new…”
But it was you—you holding his hand tightly, you looking at him with the light of the lanterns in your eyes, you opening up to him in your little haven, away from anyone else. Granted, you could have offered this performance to anyone, but he liked to think—shit, he was truly hoping—that you would not have done this for anyone else.
You would have only sang your favourite song to him.
“And it’s warm, and real, and bright! And the world has somehow…shifted…”
Vernon watched you halt a moment, waiting for the next verse, your hand tightening in his.
“All at once…everything looks different…”
You were right—the world had shifted underneath him, stilled under the dimmed lighting of this dingy living room. The two of you now faced each other, music still tuning from the TV, but the characters long forgotten, as if they never existed. Yes, you were right in that everything looked different, seemed different, as if he was seeing you for the very first time.
“Now that I…see you.”
Shit. You were rather beautiful before him.
You paused then, watching his reaction. You tilted your head, thoroughly amused by the sheer awe that radiated from his face, but then you noticed his chest rise and fall, more unevenly the longer you observed him.
The next detail you caught was how his eyes darted down—down to your lips.
It was the lips, which were watched so intently, that parted.
You attempted at a little humour. “Out of all my talents, I guess singing isn’t one of them.”
But Vernon did not respond with words. Sure, he would have agreed with you, but singing was irrelevant now. Out of all these infinite talents you possessed—your natural charm, your ease in making him laugh, your trespassing and eventual escaping of such crimes—Vernon could not have given less of a shit about singing. Not when you were before him, bathed in an unnatural, extraordinary light, soft music playing in the background. Almost as if he had adorned the rose-tinted glasses, courtesy of the universe.
In any romantic comedy, he would have kissed her.
The boy was not known to be courageous—anything but brave. Real Life, Not Clickbait Vernon would have left by now. The Real Vernon should have pussied out.
You, however, looked a little too beautiful to be treated with cowardice.
“Are you going to kiss me, Mr. Filmbro, or are you gonna make me wait till the end of the movie?”
He parted his mouth for a split second, gob-smacked at your question. The twinkle in your gaze, though, had him spluttering out a harsh chuckle, craning his head down at the sheer absurdity of it all. But then he looked up, smiling, not quite believing what he was about to do.
“I should make you wait.”
That was what he said. What Vernon instead did was finally grow the two balls that were supposed to be hidden in his pants, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.
Now the boy always wondered whether the movies were right—when mouths would touch, move against each other, whether a fire would ignite between souls, whether one really felt as if they were not of this world.
It seemed like Hallmark-level bullshit to him, but the moment his lips touched yours, he began to float out of this room. A soft hum reverated from you, approval at his actions, and he could have burst as he felt you smile against him.
Maybe Disney was right. God, he really did not want to be in such accord with that stupid corporation, but they were onto something with the fireworks, the orchestral singing when couples kiss. He himself felt a choir-like chant all around him as he brought his hand to your face, angling it slightly so he could gain better access, boost your pleasure as he delved slightly deeper.
He was unstoppable. He was alive and ecstatic and delirious, opening his mouth wider, his other hand now finding your waist, snuffing out any distance between you two. It was not like he was a pro in these situations—he had only ever had one serious girlfriend, and that was at an age where a boy could get away with merely ‘french-kissing’ (as the kids back then would have gloated) your significant other. Again, he may have fooled around a little in college, too, but never had he experienced this haze of lust, this newfound desire.
This desire enhanced further when you slipped your tongue from the seams, sliding it along his as an invitation for more, and he could have honestly thanked that heinous hag Walt Disney for making movies you adored so much, to the point of showing him and landing him in this situation. Of course he indulged you, opening his mouth enough to let you inside. The sensation of your tongue slipping past his lips had a soft noise releasing from his throat.
Tangled was all but forgotten, the two of you too occupied being entangled with each other. You pulled him even closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair. The soft touches had every strand of his locks standing on edge, a wave of delight washing over him.
You were sagged into the bean bag, Vernon’s weight upon you sinking you further, but you did not mind it—relished it, his scent engulfing you, the sighs and soft murmurs of his every exhale haunting your eardrums. Who would have thought that a boy who could recite every Joker quote from The Dark Knight—Virgin Supremism you termed the talent—had this kind of game hidden underneath? How was he able to ignite such powerful emotions from you?
How was Vernon ‘Filmbro’ Chwe able to make you feel so good you did not realise Tangled finishing right before you?
The two of you could have spent all night intertwined in each other, perhaps would have gone past the boundaries of mere making out. However, between the haze of his soft whispers to you, your own mist swimming in your head, you heard the starting music of the DVD reverting to the home page, and like instinct you opened your eyes, finding that the movie had ended.
You must have paused, because Vernon immediately stopped, concern staining his pretty features. His knitted brow, eyes laced with nervousness, shamed you for ever stopping. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
“Oh, no, no!” You felt like a fool for the answer you attempted to give him. “It’s just, um…”
He followed your line of sight, turning around. Once he realised, he looked back at you, you surprised to find a little shock replacing his concern. “We were going for that long?”
Your smirk had his stomach knotting. “This is what happens when you make out with someone you like, Mr. Filmbro.”
He could not respond, looking away as his flushed face managed to redden some more. You only laughed at him, playing with the hem of his shirt, his arms still steady as they caged you. “You are so lucky, you know.”
He quirked a brow. “And why is that?”
“I would never miss the second half of Tangled for a man.”
It was so incredibly stupid, how he felt a semblance of pride at the notion.“Happy to know I’m an exception.”
“You do know I’m gonna make you watch it again so you can say you’ve watched it.”
Vernon tilted his head to the side, lost in thought. You watched him, anticipating. “This is the part where you say you’d rather Mingyu jump you than rewatch Tangled.”
“Well yes, but…” He glanced over his shoulder, where your shelf of DVDs were stacked, a particular movie which had caught his eye previously now standing out all the more. “I, uh…”
He looked back at you, and the self-conscious glint in his gaze had you watching his every movement. “I was hoping to show you my favourite movie instead.”
You were ready to make a comment on how you prided on avoiding Nolan films like the plague, but then you remembered the conversation at Mingyu’s house. Your eyebrows could have touched your hairline. “You said I could never know.”
“Well…” a small smile escaped him, slowly pulling himself away. “If I am to be your exception, _____, then I suppose you can be mine.”
Gaping at him, you could only keep silent as he, with great effort on his part, heaved off you, making his way to the shelf. He was lucky, you thought—had he been a moment slower, that comment alone would have had you kissing him again.
What quickly caught your attention was him sliding his pointer finger through your collection, a series of your favourites. The anticipation was rising, you not quite believing that Mr. Filmbro’s favourite film was within your arsenal. Weeks ago, you would have bullied him relentlessly for the ironic hypocrisy.
When he pulled out the fated DVD, you let out the greatest laugh.
The boy instantly frowned, but you did not realise, cackling and cackling away at the selection, the final boss of Vernon’s favourite film, nestled between his fingers. “Shut up,” he mumbled, but again, you did not hear him, lost in the shrill sound of your laughter, erupting the room to life.
“Oh, Jesus—” Your chortling did not seem to stop, almost to the point of hiccups. “Your ass…this entire time—!”
“And suddenly I’m leaving!” Vernon announced, getting up and about to drop the DVD.
He did not last long in his determination when you grabbed onto the end of his shirt, grinning still. “Thank God you’re not a Nolan kiss-ass…that’s all I’m saying.”
All he could do was stand like an idiot, the tips of your fingers caressing the skin just above his trousers. “But I am a Nolan kiss-ass,” he murmured, crossing his arms.
“That’s what I thought, too, but this film—” you jerked your head towards the prize in his hand. “You’ve redeemed yourself.”
“Stop it,” he only said, crouching down to pull out the Tangled CD, replacing it with the new, and, in his opinion, improved movie. “This is why I didn’t want to tell anyone.”
“And nobody will know,” you assured him, watching the movie’s main menu pop up, the PLAY option highlighted. “This’ll be our secret.”
“First the trespassing,” Vernon began, sitting down beside you, “Then the tampering of movies, and now this.” He grabbed the remote, about to play the movie. “How much more are we gonna sneak around?”
You looked at him, and the smile you offered him had him glancing away—only for a second. “Have you not had fun, though? Sneaking around with me?”
Normally, in a situation where he had zero balls, he would have evaded such a question, not fanned the flames of your fire. But tonight he had watched a Disney movie with you, felt your fingers caressing his skin, had even kissed you in the purple hues of Tangled’s light. Tonight, he could conquer the world.
What would answering a heated question do any harm?
Vernon locked eyes with you then, trying to fight his smile. “I think I could have fun with you anywhere…in secret or for anyone to see.”
As something in your gaze shifted, he turned the film on (an entendre which was completely intentional).
Once again, the two of you were in the same position, watching yet another film, this time another’s all time favourite. The narrator began in a strange, European accent, explaining the tale of an unfortunate princess, much like Rapunzel, and her dire situation.
Although it was undoubtedly his most treasured film, the boy had a very hard time paying attention when all he could feel was that penetrating stare of yours, capable of revealing his very soul from beneath his measly shirt. Even when the stranger main character was introduced, following his main routine in his strangest abode, Vernon was not particularly concentrating anymore.
Not when he heard your voice, a soft question amongst the gaudy music of the 2000s. “Do you mean that, Vernon?”
And perhaps it was because you said his actual name, especially when your voice sounded like…like that. Like something from a perfect movie soundtrack, akin to the end-credits of an unforgettable TV show.
Because he was too occupied with simply admiring you, he merely nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.
And because you were too busy admiring him, his words, the entire night where you had felt pure, euphoric joy, you did Mr. Filmbro a little dirty by making a decision that negated his film.
You shifted closer once more, hands reaching out to hold his face.
This time, Vernon was prepared when you kissed him.
There was a certain eagerness in your lips this time which was newer—more enjoyable to his senses. It made sense now, why all these couples in movies made out for hours and hours on end. He felt as if he could kiss you forever, move against your mouth, delve inside until his tongue memorised your very imprint.
You moaned a little louder this time, and the very sound had his heartbeat racing, moreso when, as he pressed you against him, shifting upon his beanbag, he knew then and there that something in the air shifted.
Last time, you had stopped. This time, there was no such indication—the very thought had him skirting his hands around you, holding you tight enough to never let go.
Still—even with such possibilities, there was no way you and him would escalate to the point of losing his virginity.
Whatever happens though, he will still watch the end of his favourite film.
Whatever happens, Vernon would not be having sex with you if Shrek was playing in the background.
VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.
Certainly not his greatest achievements, considering he could not focus on his favourite movie, but it was certainly not his fault. You were—to put it quite plainly—hot as fuck.
He did not leave until the very next day because—as he had stated that night—he still wanted you to watch Shrek, and did, somehow, end up watching it properly. You did not stop teasing him, and he did not stop shutting you up by kissing you senseless.
Unfortunately, the boy did have college the next day, so he had to leave at some point, but not without promises of meeting you again. This time, however, you two did not continue the crimes he committed with you. You and Vernon were not modern-day Joker and Harley Quinn.
When the two of you were not terrorising Mingyu’s livelihood, you decided to hang out at the filmstore, where it all began. Vernon would host weekly movie nights, and both of you would eat popcorn and watch each other’s recommendations, scoring them differently in accordance to what was most important for each other.
For the film majoring student, the rating was influenced not only by the actors’ performances, but also from the intricate storyline, the character developments, their relationships. A story, for him at least, was about relationships. Good cinema was about the chemistry between two actors, the emotional connection they had not just with each other, but also their effect on the audience. The actual editing of the film, too, was another bullet point in his criteria.
Your rating, on the other hand, differed slightly.
“Michelle Yeoh is such a MILF,” was your only comment upon finishing Everything Everywhere All at Once.
This comment nearly made Vernon lose his mind. “One of the greatest movies of this decade, and this is your only input?”
“But am I wrong, though?”
Vernon sighed a little at that—at the end of the day, you were absolutely in the right. There was a reason Crazy Rich Asians went platinum in his dingy little room.
Of course, it was not just his personal recommendations that played. You had compiled a list of your all-time favourites, going beyond Disney’s borders, and Vernon was introduced to the dashing timeless genre of the rom-com. Now having a younger sister who (he thought) was a basic bitch meant he did possess some knowledge of the genre, but he had never really sat down and watched a rom-com without falling asleep in Sofia’s bed.
For you, though, he braved the most famous romances, which he found himself enjoying more than he would have liked—more so when he found one of his favoured actors in 10 Things I Hate About You.
“Heath Ledger singing was something I never thought I needed,” Vernon commented as the ferocious couple finally kissed.
“And this is the same fella who was the Joker in your little Nolan film,” you reminded him, as if he was not aware already. “Oh, and he was the gay cowboy in that movie.”
“Gay cowboy?” His confusion lasted for approximately thirty seconds before he groaned, pushing you over on your beanbag. “My god, are you talking about Brokeback Mountain?”
“Yes, that one!” you exclaimed, picking up the TV remote. “My guy has range, but him as a high schooler is still my favourite role.”
“You do realise how bad that sounds, right?”
“You know what I mean,” you said, waving him off as you began searching for the next movie. “Now, Two Weeks’ Notice or The Proposal?”
Vernon endeavoured to weigh in on the options. “Which one do you think I’d like?”
“Well, both have Sandra Bullock in them…”
He looked over both DVDs. “Now that’s a white woman I can get behind.”
You scooched a little over to him, locking your hands together. “We can watch something you like…” When he knitted his brows together, not quite answering you, you went on, almost unable to look him in the eye. “You’ve been super nice, you know…sitting through all my favourites.”
The boy could not help it, unable to let a smirk slip. “Is this _____ appreciating me for once?” The beginnings of his shit-eating attitude did not develop, since your smack on his arm completely snuffed it out. “Ow, damn!”
“You deserved that,” you muttered, beginning to scoot away until Vernon’s hand on your wrist stopped you.
When you focused your gaze at him, he already beat you to it. “Let’s watch both today.”
It was silly, how that made your heart beat faster. “Really? You would watch two rom-coms in a row?”
As his hand pulled you closer, his stare had you almost—almost—nervous. “I’ve done worse for you.”
“Very true,” you said, absent-minded, more lost in the twinkle of his eyes. “Very, uh…good point.”
Vernon thanked all the higher bodies that may have existed for the pure, unadulterated rizz he was attempting to spew. “I’m full of good points,” he crowed. “Now, are you going to stare at me all night, or are we going to watch Sandra Bullock?”
Although your cheeks burned, you pushed him off, earning a chuckle from him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mr. Filmbro. The only man I’ll be staring at will be Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal.”
All of the boy’s suave attitude dissipated at his shock. “The Deadpool guy?!”
“Ryan Reynolds did have range before,” you explained, shaking your head. “Then the superhero bug bit him.”
“What a shame,” he only said, as if Vernon did not follow the Deadpool universe to the point of possessing special editioned comics in his room. Still, he happily slotted the CD inside the player, and excused himself to make more popcorn for the two of you.
As the boy prepared snacks, glancing back every time at the opening scene, he managed to sneak a look at you, eagerly watching the screen.
He could only smile, putting all the popcorn in the huge bowl before hurrying back to you.
THIS WAS PROBABLY THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT TO A CINEMA. PERHAPS THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT AT ALL.
Admittedly, it was not as if you had intended to go into the cinema in formal attire—or, at least the only formal clothing you had. Your first plan was to steal something from your father’s wardrobe, but when you tried it on, it did not fit properly, and you refused to look like an idiot in public.
Not that you cared much about looking like an idiot in public before, but there was another person to look out for. And that person, although had already done embarrassing enough actions for you, did not want to push it further. One more ceremonious act of humiliation, and Vernon would have run a thousand miles from you—or that was what you thought.
You observed your cinema fit one last time before your bathroom mirror, fixing the lapels for the nth time. Your rented three-piece suit was almost a second skin, waistcoat snug underneath the tweed jacket, matching coloured trousers adorned alongside. You borrowed some Oxford brogues from a friend, which made you realise that you had more posh friends than you knew. You tried to find a hat similar to the one Cillian Murphy wore in the promotions, but because you did not have the wardrobe of a middle aged man, you resorted to let your head rest.
All of this elaborate planning to see Nolan’s (apparently) greatest release yet—Oppenheimer.
Because the cinema was not far away from you, you decided to walk, messaging your date to let him know that you were on your way. You were certain he was already there in the cinema; Vernon, since you had started hanging out more with him, had only ever talked about Nolan’s upcoming epic. You swore if you recited the IMDB plot out to him during sex, he would have spunked within minutes (a mental note to experiment on that later). His excitement had you booking midnight release tickets, which consequently made him so happy you thought you had invited Nolan to the town cinema.
The night, furthering along, had beautified the black sky, stars twinkling on your journey. The consistent vibrations from your phone indicated the boy’s imminent excitement, and you smiled, double-checking your formal attire once more. You would have romanticised the nighttime further but living in student area brought you right back to fearing slightly for your life, so you quickened your step, cinema already a close speck in the distance.
You knew you were nearer to the destination when the flocks of pink and black grew, the cowboy hats and fake pipes all piling up in your vision. Seeing the pink reminded you of Barbie’s influence, also being released tonight alongside the more serious counterpart.
A small part of you really wanted to see the midnight release for the new movie. The original plan most people were following was either to watch Oppenheimer and then Barbie, or the other way around. You were so close to procuring tickets for the latter, but decided that it was important to accompany Vernon to the seemingly bigger release. After all, you were never as excited about films as the dear film major you had rather grown to like.
Another vibration of your phone, and you finally decided to stop ignoring said-film major and text him, possibly informing you of his arrival.
mr. filmbro: yo where u at
mr. filmbro: they’re too many pink mfs out here im getting suffocated
You rolled your eyes.
_____: im coming to save u kitten.
mr. filmbro: :0
Once you were inside, it was a complete sea of pink and black and grey. Two sides, which one would assume would be opposing, were all celebrating, sharing their drinks, anticipating when the theatre doors would open to let everyone in. Within this myriad of fans, you tried to search for the most mentally ill one—the one who you were certain had a finer three-piece set than you, who would have happily stolen Cillian Murphy’s set clothes to truly honour the movie.
Strangely enough, after a few minutes, you could not find him, even after confirming your seats. You searched for anyone wearing anything devoid of colour, but did not find the boy. This time, you decided to bother him, calling him and pressing the phone to your ear.
“Where are you, kitten?” you purposely growled, lowering your voice an octave. “Daddy’s waiting.”
“Kitten actually killed himself after hearing that,” was his purposeful monotone.
“Can you resurrect yourself for me real quick? I’m tryna find where you are.”
“I’m next to the Oppenheimer popup.” Immediately you tried to find it, scouring through the crowds. “I figured you’d find me easier.”
Scoffing, you ignored the Barbie stalls, walking further ahead. “How very smart of you to wear Oppenheimer clothing while standing next to it. So much easier to find you, isn’t it?”
He did not retort back, instead inciting your excitement. “Wait, I think I can see you…?”
Your eyes darted over to the fresh faces of the Nolan fans, all taking pictures of the cast pop-ups. What you were observing were the men and women, all lack of colour.
What your gaze ended up on was someone completely different.
What you were expecting was a mini-Oppenheimer, the too-large blazer, the sashed hat upon pretty brown curls. What you received instead was a boy engulfed in all the pinks of the colour wheel.
Pink was the colour of his top, bubblegum pink the colour of the stringy fur coat sporting over said shirt. Magenta was the colour of his flared trousers, whilst rose was the colour of his converse. What topped off the entire look was the hot pink cowboy hat, sitting perfectly upon his wavy locks, completing his fit—a fit which was perfect for the Barbie movie.
It was around that point that he caught on to your stare—through the oceans of opposing fans, he, too, finally found you.
Vernon heard your curse murmur through the phone. “Oh my fucking God.”
That was when his own gaze roamed over you, shocked and shameless amongst the crowds. Not that the crowds mattered, not anymore. He was a little nervous, he had to admit it to himself, only because there were so many people, and they were only watching for the fad, for the trend. A part of him wanted just you and him in this midnight cinema, the biggest official date yet.
But then seeing you here, in all your black-clad, Oppenheimered glory, had stunned him to his core. Although he had specifically brought you here to watch the movie, he had completely expected you to arrive in the pinkmania fit. Because you had kindly booked tickets for his anticipated film, he thought at least to participate in the Barbie craze fit.
It was like instinct, how his steps gravitated towards you, his phone still pressed against his ear, very much like you. You followed him slowly, hearing his ragged breaths through the speaker, watching him walk closer and closer until you both were a mere couple of feet away.
Only then did you drop the call, your hands at your sides as you admired him. It was a while before any of you spoke.
Like always, you spoke first. “Tell me the fur coat is yours.”
A ghost of a smirk. “Sofia’s.”
“Stealing’s like second nature to you now, isn’t it?” you taunted.
Like always, he dodged your taunts. “I thought you were gonna wear all pink.”
“I thought you were gonna wear all black.”
He tilted his head. “Well, I thought since we were watching both movies…”
Your confusion was clear, the corner of his lips curling further up. “Wasn’t Oppenheimer first?”
He then went inside his flared trouser pockets, fishing out two tickets—its colours matching his outfit. “I know how much you wanted to see Margot Robbie be silly.”
“I did!” you exclaimed, taking the tickets from him, admiring how pretty they were designed, especially when compared to the Oppenheimer marketing tickets. In your admiration, though, you noticed a detail which had your excitement faltering. “Wait, are you sure? It says the movie’s at the same time.”
Vernon then checked the timings, mouth parting. “Oh shit. Didn’t think about that.” He shook his head, mouth straightening in a line, dejected. “This is what happens when I try to do something romantic.”
“I have to give points for effort,” you offered, bringing your hands to his wrist. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s watch Oppenheimer, honestly. Cillian Murphy is still hot when he’s old.”
“No, no,” he countered, clasping your hands on his wrist. “It’s chill.” He glanced down. “Let’s do Barbie first.”
You attempted to argue him on this, but he simply let go of your hands, with his one hand wrapping around your waist, and the other hand’s wrist being checked for the time. You bit back a smile at his mere actions, relishing his fingers skirting under the suit, the waistcoat. “Vernon,” you attempted.
“_____,” he said back, staring at you with an awe that you would have deserved had you worn a couture gown, not some rented hand-me-downs.
You knew he would not take no for an answer now. “But what about Oppenheimer?” you asked anyway as the two of you made your way to the cinema.
Vernon only pretended to think extremely deeply of the situation, making you elbow him playfully. “Now tell me, Dear Disney Hag, how did we enter Mingyu’s house?”
“Why, we walked straight in!” you answered like an over-enthusiastic student, in which he sarcastically clapped for you.
“Right on.” As you both walked towards the Barbie theatre, the opposing movie was being screened right beside you, where people were bursting in. “See how everyone is walking in right now?” He gave you a knowing glance.
That knowing glance had you scoffing in excited disbelief. “My God! Look at you, all ready to commit crimes!” you looped a hand around his arm. “I have taught you well, young man.”
He patted your arm. “Mr. Filmbro has come a long way from chatting shit about your movie taste.”
“So you admit it?” you leaned in. “Disney makes better movies than your flop directors?”
“That’s a completely different claim,” he clarified. “My taste in films is objectively better.”
“Still doesn’t change the fact you're watching the Barbie movie before Oppenheimer.”
He rolled his eyes, tugging you closer. “That’s ‘cause I like you a lot, Disney Hag…”
You did not stop your smile from lighting up your entire face. “You’re not the most insufferable filmbro I’ve dated I guess…”
”I better be the last filmbro you date,” he muttered, watching over the last of the crowds, where they now stood, waiting to enter the theatre.
The longer you waited to answer him, the more incredulous his face became, brows knotted in disbelief. You only chuckled, leaning in and pressing your lips upon his. Of course, he was taken aback, but surprises like these were pleasant, welcomed with open arms as Vernon closed his eyes, pulling you in.
The moment the line started quickening you broke away, only to make sure no one skipped in front of you and him, and thus deal with yours and his passive aggression. You could not help the giggle that escaped you at breaking away from his lips, relishing in his dazed state.
Honestly—you truly would not have minded being anywhere with him.
When it was finally your turn to go inside the Barbie screening, you held tightly to his hand. “Let’s go, Mr. Filmbro.”
Vernon only smiled. “Right behind you, _____.”
And as the two of you entered the theatre, hand-in-hand, the boy learned that perhaps he, too, would have gone anywhere with you.
note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works + the synopsis for each fic belongs to the author who wrote the fic
kuroo tetsuro
taste test - kaientai
synopsis: when you taste the same thing as your soulmate, things get interesting
red all over - meldve
synopsis: you are trapped in an elevator with your work rival, kuroo. what else could go wrong?
your name - tsukisemi
synopsis: kuroo finds you really cute, too bad you keep giving him a fake name every time you come into the coffee shop he works at
public transit - orphan_account
synopsis: your heart pounded, knowing you were being touched, and he was watching you.
but when he loves me - sweetcandyliar
synopsis: there are so many ways that kuroo tells you he loves you.
somewhere only we know - wanderwithme (wanderlustt)
synopsis: four times kuroo proposes to you - and the last time he does
meeting the boys - orphan_account
synopsis: in which no one really believes kuroo could get a girlfriend as incredible as you
落葉 | rakuyou - deltachye
synopsis: maple leaves are most beautiful in which they have died, falling slowly, waiting patiently to be reborn
riverbank - itsleese
synopsis: you're reminded of the little boy you loved way back then, the riverbank you played at together. maybe you should go see it?
caring cats - haikyuu_philia
synopsis: nekoma is family
disrupted meetings - sansos
synopsis: dr. tetsurou kuroo’s research group has transitioned to hosting meetings online. what could go wrong?
cat ears - just__j
synopsis: kuroo approaches you, captain of the girls club, with a proposition of a bet for the losing captain
kozume kenma
change the channel - alkale
synopsis: "i want to buy your game from you"
kodzuken does not have a girlfriend - bunnytime
synopsis: it has been a running joke that kodzuken lies about having a girlfriend for years now. needless to say, his fanbase is convinced he doesn’t really have a girlfriend
second place - yourqueenhasarrived
synopsis: kenma forgets your anniversary and once again pushes you aside for his gaming career. how much can you take?
an inconvenient crush - the_only_iris
synopsis: kenma has had the biggest crush on twitch streamer, (y/n). what happens when their paths cross?
learning process - nomazee
synopsis: you and kenma always had an interesting dynamic. kuroo found it nice for everyone involved
thank you for being a friend! - heichoe
synopsis: ”if it helps: when you gave kuroo head in high school, he said it was great"
yaku morisuke
who dares speak aloud these words (intended for the heart to speak) - sunmoonstarsrain
synopsis: yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze
artists eyes - teapots_and_teacups
synopsis: yaku was used to being ignored on the court
if only i were selfish - this noodle writes
synopsis: yaku was anything but a selfish man, but being selfless had cost him you once before. so, when he gets the chance to see you again, will he finally be selfish enough to try?
note: as you can tell, i'm trying a different recommendations style- what do you think? do you think i should switch back to the first one or is this one better? would love to know your thoughts
☆ sum. it's cuffin’ seasooon, and now you’ve got a reasooon to get…stuffed? toji, sukuna, choso, geto, nanami, gojo.
warnings. fem! reader, BIG BOYSSSS like the sza skit song, unprotected, manhandling, dad bods (toji / nanami), size kinks, tf! sukuna, boxer! geto, spīt, full nelson, mating press, dp (sukuna), overstim, dirty talk, praise, marathons, p spanks, hair pulling, breedīng, this got kinda … long LOL sry.
an. will t*mblr let me post thisss …. ¯\_(ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯
✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO.
“honey,” nanami warmly purrs, his body weight hovering right over yours. you’re met with the most softhearted eyes, watching cloudy puffy pants leave his mouth. you’d just rode nanami for countless hours nonstop, and with ruffled blond strands sticking to his face, he looked oh so feral for you. your eyes rover down toward his abdomen - so plump ‘n round, and you felt yourself throb the more you gawked at the vertical strip of his blond happy trail that ran down his chest. “hah- you want me to . . fold you like a chair? that sounds kind of painful, no?”
“ken, ‘s okay,” you reassure him, a hand sensually rubbing down his cushiony soft-padded abs. nanami was as soft as an oversized teddy bear, and he was always gentle with you during intimacy. you moan, feeling his split reddish tip gently smear a sloppy slope down your sopping entrance before he pauses to let you finish speaking. “y.. you can be a little rough. i can take it.”
nanami combs a hand through his hair before a coy simper tug at both corners of his thin pink lips. “okay, if that’s what my pretty wife wants- then. .” and you let off a jittery whimper once you feel his big hands start to gingerly shove both of your knees to your chest. his touch was forevermore tender, and nanami hoarsely groans as he watches your limbs gradually extend back. “i’ll . . stretch you,” he grumbles, a sandy brow of his furrowing once he starts to align his leaky cockhead once more. you’re throbbing, salivating from the mouth once the pointed crowns of your knees meet against your bare squishy breasts. leaning in, nanami’s just a few sultry centimeters apart before he sensually licks near your bottom lip. “hold onto me, sweetheart. ‘s gonna get a bit . . bumpy.”
once you’re laid flat on your back, nanami’s tubby tummy hovers over your entire frame. murky huffs of air shoot past his lips once he grabs ahold of your wobbly ankles. you’d already had your pretty laced panties shoved to the side, and oh how soaked you were. “naughty girl,” he huskily grunts, casually starting to rub his wedding ring against your folds. slow. . romantic strokes were all you felt. it lasts for a long few seconds, and he’s just smearing the frigid cold band of the ring around your bawling cunt before he finally gets to the real thing.
nanami grabs ahold of your legs—softly shoving them further into your chest. they meet against your bouncy tits and you moan, feeling the plump head of his cock greet your slobbering cunt with wet, slimy kisses of its own. the noises . . they were so damn loud, and you were already throbbing the more he teased you from just his full-sized tip alone. “ngh, ‘ken. don’t tease me. f.. fuck me,” you whine, another moan leaving from your parted lips the second he’s fully enclosed between your legs. you’re met with his rounded tummy that’s sooo perfect ‘n plump, and nanami’s just inches apart from the button of your nose. time stands still once he finishes aligning his thick cock, unhurriedly inserting himself inside.
oh fuck-
those same two words that ripped out of your whiny larynx repeated past your lips right as he started to ease his way inside. it didn’t take him long to quickly bottom out—and you were folded up like a chair. “s- sooo gorgeous for me,” he lowly groans, blond brows crimping together in needy want. your brief tightness that only lasts for a good three seconds makes nanami suck his teeth. so … damn … good, once he bottoms out all the way, you then hear the bubbly resounding ‘pop!’ that alerted you both that he was fit reaaaal nice ‘n snug. “god, the things you do to me, sweetheart.”
nanami tended to ramble mid-fuck, just spouting a bunch of nonsense against the shell of your ear. with barred, bare hands, he’s making sure your legs stay at the folded position you’re at. his cock’s just so fat though, and your eyes were almost cartoonish—widening like saucers at the precise moment he curves his way through that exact pathway of your cunt that makes you squeal. nanami’s sculptured hips drill into you ferociously, and his body that pounded on top of you after each impactful stroke was just so soft. you’d never get over it—he was like an actual plushie teddy bear.
sluggish arms of yours wrap around him, filling his entire ear canal with your continuous whimpers before he groans. “kento, fuuuckk- fuck!” you’d moan, feeling the bed frailly dip from both pounds of jerking weight.
pap after pap after pap, nanami’s stuffing you full with each mouth-watering inch, and your pussy constantly decided to torture you with its dramatic spasms and fluttering. filled to the very hilt, nanami’s making sure your insides got every single part of him.
he’s groaning, trying his hardest not to crush you with his weight. every few seconds, he’d cup your face with two sweaty palms before slowing down with a timid cunt-drunk grin. whispering out a shaky, “hah- you okay, sweetheart? ‘m not crushin’ my sweet girl, am i?” he’d lovingly caress a thumb across your face, acting as if he wasn’t currently fucking you stupid.
“ ‘m okay,” you’d breathlessly croon out in a sweet throaty tune, almost as if your sweet moans were high notes. nanami was hitting you deep, and with a sloppy pivot of his hips, the angle got even deeper. you’re filling up the four paper-thin walls of the bedroom with your trilling whines, purely engulfed by his loud manly musk. your cunt’s already starting to soak with dewy globs of your juices, even dribbling down your folds and oh it’s comin’ . .
“ken, kentoo—oooh!”
nanami felt his dick twitch inside of you at your dragged-out moan of his name.. but - it wasn’t just a moan—it was a pretty, elongated orgasm that caught you by surprise. his blushing tip was messily kissing your pulsating g-spot, circling all around it while casually feeding your grippy, wet walls. you clung onto him tight with your arms and also your insides. before you knew it though, your high was slowly but surely creepin’ up on you.
“i know- i knowww,” he murmured out of breath, and you could feel him starting to slow down. nanami’s rickety hips were passionate. they were steady, and as you were creaming down his weighty shaft, he planted a kiss on your temple. “thaaat’s it, let go. ‘m right here, kento’s here. i’ll clean you right up, sweetheart.”
his words warmed their way into the key of your heart . . slowly traveling between your legs also to make you throb. you’re whimpering the same repeated chant of his name as your arms were now wrapped around his sweat-glossed waist. nanami chuckles into your neck, and he can feel your arms pull his plump body closer. “mhmm, touch my body all you want, honey,” and you moan, feeling him release the grip on your numb legs. nanami brings his wedding ring toward your teary cunt after he pulled out, giving it one more loving rub. “ ‘m all yours,” he kisses near your lips. “always.”
✩ ˛˚ . SUKUNA RYOMEN.
“keh, you make me laugh, woman,” sukuna grouses, slouching back against his notorious throne as you straddle him. eager ‘n all, you try to align yourself and he grabs your hips firmly with a smug scoff. “you can barely handle one, what makes you think you can handle both of me, hm?”
“ ‘kuna, don’t tease me,” you huff, and he hums once he sees the frustration marinating across your face. cute, sukuna knew you didn’t like being teased but he still enjoyed getting underneath your skin. after all, you were his favorite, and maybe just for tonight . . he’d oblige with your carnal desire to get double stuffed. sukuna folds two of hefty arms behind his broad neck, his other arms occupied by gripping your waist. oh, he looked so priggish. a wolffish grin remains plastered on his lips as he watches you wrap a hand around one of his cocks. they were fuckin’ big, both stacked on top of each other and you moan. “stop lookin’ at me like that.”
sukuna snickers. “heh. my apologies, little one. i’ll look away while you struggle, i guess,” and a fang pops underneath his sinister curled lips once your wet entrances start to slowly kiss against his tips. you’re weeping wet, and you moan with your other arm abruptly tossing around his broad shoulders. you felt your heart’s irregular beats pick up whilst you’re perfectly aligned with both of his thick twinned cocks. with a squelching ‘pop!’ the first one starts to delve inside of your cunt, driving its way past the loose ring of your dripping entrance. “fuuuck, atta girl.” sukuna gravelly grunts, his smugness starting to falter just a bit. as he’s bottoming out, his grip on your hips tighten more. your warmth catches him by surprise—but once you’re taking in his second cock, he smacks together his lips in awe. pink slit brows of his form together into a vexed arch once he growls.
“ ‘s fuckin’ big,” you moan, slightly turning your head to stare at your grinding perked ass. as a few seconds pass, you’re starting to writhe your ass against his lap. successfully, both fat cocks were filled inside each of your gummy orifices. the concise feeling of tightness makes you mewl, feeling sukuna’s overgrown nails gently dig into the plush flesh of your ass cheek. “god, so full ‘kuna, fuuuuck,” you continue to babble, and you already could feel your fluttering tummy starting to giggle with hoards of impatient butterflies. you can’t help but part your lips into a cute ‘o’, nearly drooling once he spanks your ass — his way of encouraging you to ride him faster.
sukuna’s big, and it’s not even about both of his lengthy dicks anymore. he’s a demon, an unruly one that could probably crush you if he wanted. but no . . he had a soft spot for you, an even more softer spot for your sweet, weak pussy. as he sits back against the creaking throne, you gulp, taking in just how big he is compared to you. bloody, ruddy eyes bore back into you as he started to break a cold sweat. “hng, good,” he groans, and you watch as his head gradually starts to fall back.
oh- you’ve got him whipped. once you started up your rocky pace, it was game over.
each towering cock plummets into both of your holes filthy, and the repeated dampened sloshes of your cunt resounded through the walls of his echoey domain. over and over and over. your rhythm starts to get more and more hectic as you progress—and you’re whimpering, continuously feeling one of his swollen tip’s french kiss near your pretty puckering rim. the other one’s messily making out with your g-spot, rudely thrashing its way against that same pulsating target like it was a dart aiming straight for the bullseye. “o- ohhh, fuck. ‘kuna, ‘m not gonna last, ohmygodddd.”
you’re just so full…too full- and before you knew it, you could already feeling your legs preparing to violently snap.
mewling out a sweet, exaggerated ‘oh!’, you end up spraying out a pretty streaming geyser right between your legs. your glossed lips quiver as your awaited high finally comes, whining as you try to continue to swerve your weak hips in gradual arcs. it felt so so good, being plugged full with each of his girthy cocks. fuck, it felt too good that you could almost taste your sudden overwhelming releases on your tastebuds. “fuck, fuuuck,” you whine out in tiny puffs of air, glancing back through fuzzy peripherals to stare back at your ass. honed, sharp fingernails bury into the fat of your bouncy flesh and sukuna snarls at the tasteful friction. “ ‘s good, ‘kuna, ngh!”
“h- heh,” the curse jibes, but even he’s starting to slow down. as your rhythm starts to finally come to a slowing stop, you sheathe your head near his broad chest. sukuna holds you close, quietly snickering at the size difference. you—a mere human, straddling him. it was almost laughable. “you humans are so weak . . so fragile,” he huskily groans, leaning in to pierce his fangs into your neck softly. as if marking his territory, sukuna then licks a stripe up your neck. you’re still stuffed to the very brim, and that’s when he makes you sit up straight. with a disapproving tsk, sukuna crosses all of his arms with a pout like he’s judging you. “cunt’s still too weak though.”
you’re just a babbling mess, the pit of your tummy was in knots as it's still taking in both thickset cursed lengths. from your quavery thighs, it’s a shimmering sap of your precious slick that slithers down between the sprawled crevices of your legs. it’s pretty - and sukuna can’t help but swipe a fat thumb down, getting a taste all for himself. “mhm,” he brings his finger up to his wry compressed lips, savoring your fresh flavor on his spiked tongue. you’re still trying to recollect breaths when the demon softly grabs your chin, boring his cold, scarlet eyes right into yours. “open.”
an overgrown black nail gives the corner of your lips a soft tap and compliantly, you pry open your mouth. sukuna leans in before . . spat! he spits right on the flatness of your pink tongue, hearing you lewdly moan in response. with your flapping lashes nearly blinding your entire view, you could spot that same wolfish grin from an early start to creep against his lips one final time.
“how filthy. my good girl,” and you moan yet again, feeling him press a hand against your tummy — a wee reminder of how stuffed you currently were. “let’s try that again. this time though, i’ll let you ride my stomach tongue, heh.”
✩ ˛˚ . TOJI FUSHIGURO.
“kinkiest shit i’ve ever heard you say, mama,” toji guffaws as his tense shoulders bounce up and down. you couldn’t help but notice the way toji was slowly growing a dad bod, especially after the two of you had another child. he’s still in good shape—and he continued to maintain his usual workouts but fuck, you’d always fawn over his cute round tummy. he’s like a bear, shaggy, chunky, and incredibly soft. every time he’d pound on top of you, his weight would gingerly press into you, rubbing back ‘n forth against your body and you’d just wrap your arms around him. “full nelson, eh? you sure this isn’t the baby fever talkin’ again?”
“tojiii,” you pout, and you watch as he groans the moment you’re aligning yourself on his maddened cream-covered tip. it’s fat - leaking from the top with buttery white droplets of pre. toji reclines back against the couch that sucks his heavy body in as his legs start to spread. once he gets comfy, he looks at you with a sly grin while zeroing his verdant eyes all over your body. “ ‘m sure, i want it,” and you playfully start to run a palm down his bushy hairy chest, stopping at his cute rounded tummy. “want you.”
toji lets out a smoky chortle before pinching a grip near your ass. “alriiight, babygirl. but ‘m not gonna go easy. better hold on tight.”
and oh- toji and full nelson was a deadly combo within itself.
saying he had you stuffed to the max was purely an understatement. one minute you’re on his lap and the next, he’s got you pressed up against his woolly chest with his burly arms pinned up underneath your legs. he’s fucking you silly, plummeting such thick inches inside of your hungry cunt that it makes you see stars. not just stars but the whole damn galaxy. “f- fuuuck, fuck!” you’d gasp, feeling your cunt eagerly twitch at his sudden elastic-like stretch.
toji was strong, and he had no problem lifting you. each time he did, you’d bounce back on his lap, getting stuffed with even more mighty inches of his dick. it’s so wide, he’s merrily caressing through your gummy inner walls before rudely smacking his flushed crownhead against your tender needy cervix. that spot right there makes you shriek, and you can hear toji’s husky laughter from behind the shell of your ear.
“heh- yeah, baby. let me fuckin’ hear ya, take this . . hah, dick like a champ—fuuuck,” and he groans, a single smack of your ass making him briefly bite the inside of his hollow cheek. it’s a lot of weight that’s jerking back against him from you, and toji’s heaving breaths start to get heavier the more your cunt swallows him in wholly..
his virility was unmatched, and toji gave your pretty pussy addictively mean slams until it was squelching out his name. all syllables of it too—
you were loud, especially between your legs which were always toji’s favorite part. “t- tojiii,” you’d whine out his name again, continuously feeling that same caving dip arises near the middle part of your tummy. he’s in so deep, and your back remains to rub against his furry-covered chest. toji’s plump belly was so soft behind you, and the saltiness that started to coat your buds from your incoming release was almost too much to bare. “harder, f- fuck me. ooh! that spot, that f- fuckin’ sp—”
“if i wanted to hear my wife speak i’d ask her talkative pussy instead,” toji grunts, and you let off a bleating whine the second your bare wet cunt’s met with a spank. slap! and the entire sound makes your folds twitch. you moaned, desperately wanting him to do it again. not just once or twice—hell, even thrice. you ached for more of toji’s touch, and he knew that. he knew his wife. you watch as his scarred lips form into a smile, and he spanks your pussy again. “mhm, kinky girl. that turns you on, yeah? ‘course it does. bet if i fuckin’ spat on it you’d go crazy too, hm?”
“tojiii-‘m-gonna-cum,” you whimper out in a quick single second, trying to talk over his rant. you were a bobble head toy, bouncin’ up and down his fat cock. his long girthy inches had you hungry - slobbering from the mouth like a dog for more as he filled you to the very fuckin’ brim. easily, toji’s invading all through your spongy cunt with his thick thighs resting underneath you. your nails cling to his skin like velcro with your mewling whines only pitching louder. “tojiiiii, gonna cu— fuuuck!”
“yeah, i know baby,” he grunts, feeling his balls starting to tighten. toji’s head throws back at the sharp slams of your hips. each time you fall back into his vast lap, his guttural voice drops even deeper. every time it does—you end up throbbing. a cute ‘lil pulse that he always pokes fun at you for. “heh- there’s that cute throb, she’s so fuckin’ needy,” and as your pussy’s squelches cry out even louder, toji growls. “fuck. gonna milk me, s- so good, ‘s that what y’er tryna do?” and you moan, feeling the pad of his thumb ghost down your throat. “want me ‘ta make you a pretty mommy again?”
a whiny, “y-yesss,” slurs out from your glossed lips, and toji snickers. of course. you wanted him to fill you all the way up like always. plug the top until your cunt was just flooded with his hot thick ropes of cum.
and that’s just what he does—toji lets out a gruff groan once he feels himself reaching his limit. with his hips nudging quicker, he grunts at the final punctuating thrust. “f- fuck, take it then. take it like a hah- good girl,” and toji’s plush body underneath you starts to rumble. finally, your legs collapse down from the position they were in once he’s starting to paint the pasty walls of your cunt his whitish color. it’s a lot, ribbons of slick cum that splatter its way throughout the layout of your mottled-covered entrance. “shit,” he swears against your neck, growing quiet to hear the sloppy sounds.
you start to ooze between your thighs, and you moan once toji lifts your leg once more. the bush that glues against his chest hair continued to tickle against your back before you whine. “mhn, atta fuckin’ girl,” he huffs, smearing a thumb down your cunt that’s spitting out any remnants of his gooey seed. it’s hot, drooling down the cracks of your folds that he ends up giving your pussy one more final spank.
“heh, best we start thinkin’ of names again then,” and he nips a soft bite near your ear. “mommy.”
✩ ˛˚ . SATORU GOJO.
he’s the strongest, which also means the strongest in bed.
and satoru’s favorite thing to do was to have you being fucked senseless with your legs gracefully thrown over your head. you’d tease him constantly, saying how since he’s ‘the strongest’, surely, he can’t be the strongest in bed too… right?
wrong,
because that smug ‘lil grin of yours gets wiped off your face almost instantly the second he’s pushing your cute, weak legs over your shoulders. oh- he’d show just how strong he could be, especially underneath the sheets. satoru had stamina for miles, rarely running out of gas and he’d easily steal orgasm after orgasm out of you. after a plethora of pliable positions, you now found yourself laid flat on your back with your legs pinned right behind your head.
“aw! c’mooon, sweets. wanna see how flexible my wife’s pussy can get,” he hoarsely coos, and his playful demeanor slowly vanishes. satoru’s now feral - and he was always feral with you. especially whenever he was stuffed inches deep inside of your sloppy bear-hugging cunt.
you whine, staring up at the white-haired man and he’s still got his blindfold on. it’s halfway on, sexily showing a bit of his right eye as he runs a hand through his tangled frosty strands. satoru’s favorite thing was to manhandle you, toss you around the room ‘n treat your body like a rag doll.
“ ‘toru, fuuuuck,” you’d sob out, the inner pit of your tummy letting off a deep exhale once he’s buried in. the head of his dick’s now thwacking near the hilt, and you’ll never forget the feeling of his long, bulky cock sneakily massaging its way toward your gummy cervix. it’s repetitive, and you’re chewing on your inaudible whimpers at each luscious stroke he gives you. he’s an animal, and each merciless pound makes you trill out his name over ‘n over until your poor, poor vocal chords strain. “don’t stop, p- please. fuck me, fuh— fuuuck.”
“awwwh, my pretty wifey’s so talkative today, especially her too,” he whispers, and you moan once he’s practically laid flat against your bare chest. satoru snakes a hand between your legs, rubbing messy circles against your leaking pussy. a sly grin creases at each corner of his lips as he rubs near your full abdomen. satoru groans, moving his hand toward the middle part of your tummy before softly pressing down - feeling a prodding ‘lil bulge that he knew all too well. “mhm, that’s all me, baby. alllll fuckin’ me.”
your cunt was indeed loud, each sloppy thrust of satoru’s hips whacking into you at full collision makes you gush.
you couldn’t help but soak a portion of his cock with masses of your syrupy slick and it makes him hum. how cute, satoru could even feel your dripping pussy fluttering around his length. he’s thick—and more importantly, he’s fuckin’ big.
satoru’s sweating, and as he continues to hold your legs up over your head, you spot the spasming veins bulging in his arms. beefy, is the perfect word to describe him. every muscle within him flexed whilst he was pounding into you rawly, making sure your greedy cunt always remembered exactly who it belonged to. “mhm, such a pretty girl. gushin’ all on me, think i oughta train thisss—” and he pauses, giving your soddened entrance a playful pat. “—pussy jus’ a bit more, hm? could be a ‘lil stronger, especially since y’r dealin’ with me, baby,” and as he’s talking, he starts to lick near your neck. “fuuuck, ooh i love that fuckin’ grip. nasty girl. mmm, make me just as messy as you, uh huh.”
“fuh— ‘m gonna cum!” you squeak, the intense throbbing between your legs only increases whilst he’s giving you his all with his ragged strokes. into. each hit was more and more ruthless, your head’s spinning, and the beats of your heart only got quicker. you were sure that your pretty glistening slick had his entire cock to the base covered by now. needless to say, you were drenched. satoru even leans upright to your face, snickering once he feels your hands try to pull his blindfold off. “sato—ruuu, cum, ‘m gonna cum.”
“yes, princess i heard you the first time,” he coos, his tone full of smug arrogance. oh, how you wanted to wipe that cocky smirk right off his naturally glossed lips. his appetizing thrusts against you were the definition of straight insanity, and as his hips kept championing at such speedy strokes, you squealed. riiiight there, the mushroomy crown of his cock scraped against the target of your cervix and you nearly go crazy. “ooooh, there it is. there—she—fuckin’ is,” and as his voice grits lower, pausing each stroke to enunciate his sloppy hits against your cunt, it’s almost like he’s talking down to you. but in this case—satoru’s talking down to your cunt, because it’s the only thing he’s staring at.
openly, he snatches his blindfold off and his sparkly eyelashes flap thrice once he makes loving eye contact with your weeping pussy.
“mm, give it to me then, pretty girl. make a fuckin’ mess on me,” and you moan once he pulls your legs up even higher over your head. bringing his sheeny-coated lips up to your ear, he whispers hoarsely, giving your drenched cunt a doubting squeeze. “i dare ya.”
✩ ˛˚ . CHOSO KAMO.
“that?” choso’s eyes widen, hearty irises glued to your phone. you’re showing him some one-minute-long video of a woman getting passionately hammered in what you told him was ‘mating press.’ choso wasn’t new to intimacy, and whenever you recommended new positions for him to try, he’d always get excited. maybe even a bit . . aroused. “o- oh,” and his voice lowly husks, watching at the deeply intimate angles. the woman lay underneath the man and his weight pressed all on her. he was giving her deep and thorough strokes, occasionally giving her sloppy hot kisses in between. choso could feel his heart race as he started to imagine himself doing that exact position to no one other than you.
and he did, because the moment he’s cutely staring at your exposed, nude body underneath him, he can’t help but moan. you’re so pretty, and as he’s feebly trying to align himself, he whimpers.
“mngh, b- baby, ‘s this okay?” and his darkened eyes flicker toward your face. he’s leisurely placing his weight on your body, bringing your legs up to go over his shoulders. glossy, pink lips of his quiver as he feels the weeping wetness of your pussy twitch and drench around his cock. “don’t wanna hah- hurt you, tell me if ‘m too heavy, ‘kay?”
“promise, ‘cho,” you softly coo, your voice as smooth as silk. indeed choso was a tad bit heavy, especially compared to you. he was around a staggering height that’s damn near over feet of six inches tall and he was just looking at you like he was ready to pounce. a needy pout stretches across the thin corners of his lips as he moans, watching openly as your cunt starts to swallow his stoutly pinkish tip. “mmh, that’s it, baby. nice ‘n slow- whenever you’re ready.”
your voice- choso got off from it alone. every sentence that came out of your mouth had him weak. as your legs remained hauled over his droopy shoulders, he’s slowly inserting his cock into your greedy walls. seconds past and it doesn’t take long before wanton whimpers slither their way past your lips. “f- fuck, ‘s fuckin’ warm for me,” choso shudders out a breath, the feeling of your gripping cunt hugging his length tightly sends him shivers. it’s an indescribable feeling that makes his sable-colored brows curl into an arch and within just a few simple thrusts, choso loses it.
within a few rigid beginning thrusts—he gradually starts to get the hang of it. pumpin’ his lanky cock in and out of you as labored breaths snatch from his lungs, he whines yet again. this time though, it’s far louder. you’ve got to cup his face whilst he’s pounding into you rigorously. nearly crushing you with his hefty weight, choso tries to hover a bit over your wet cunt, moaning for the grip as he’s casually rocking back ‘n forth into your warm, welcoming body.
“good boy, f- fuck me, choso- riiight there, mhm!” you’d whine, feeling your eyes starting to dramatically roll and flicker from just his sheer size alone. choso’s cock had such length that it expands allll through you, reading out every area of your cunt like a map. it knows the exact layout, all the secret crevices, and angles to locate and once he reaches there . . you’re fucked.
between you and choso—you honestly don’t even know who’s louder. the moment you call him a ‘good boy’, you can almost feel him melting in your hands like putty. choso’s bumpy hips start to accelerate quicker and you whine every time you feel one of his veins pulse down his cock. “f- fuck, think ‘m gonna hah- cum jus’ from lookin’ at you,” he cutely rambles, each thrust becoming more sloppy. his hips have such power that it makes the entire bed groan out whiny creaks of its own. “you’re so pretty baby, s- so pretty with your legs all over my shoulders like this- heh.”
choso’s fucking you with his pace never slowing, trying to remember how the guy in the video did it. slow and steady, deep but thorough strokes, massage the clit . . and as he’s stretching you out with the swollen head of his cock—you let off a soft shriek. ‘pop!’ and you felt his plump shaft slip out of you immediately.
choso’s pussy-drunken grin falters as he notices his dick fell out of you- but not only that, he’s cumming for real. .
it was so sudden, and as his entire body’s spasming above you, he whimpers whilst struggling to align his milky-covered tip back between the opening of your glistening folds. “f- fuck, ‘s no fair, came too early,” he whines, and you moan once he buries his face into the crook of your neck. he’s embarrassed. your legs were still raised in the air as he’s holding them both firmly, groaning against your skin. a fresh hot batter of oozing cum leaves out of choso’s blushing slit — splattering out lewdly on your puffed pussy folds. choso’s so frustrated that he even tries fucking his cum in between your flaps with the cutest unsatisfied scowl on his lips. “s- sorry, ‘m bein’ a little messy. ‘m sorry, sorry.”
“ ‘s okay, baby,” you let off a quiet moan, your body already starting to feel numb. already, you were starting to miss the gaping outline of his cock driving through your insides but he makes it up by smacking his tip against your cunt. with a wet ‘splash!’ choso ends up smearing his sweltering hot cum all over your entrance, panting the entirety of your twitching sex right his ivory-white color. as he leans in for a kiss, choso clumsily misses your mouth with his lips pressing on your chin instead.
it’s cute, and you had to guide his face with your own hands just to have him shove his tongue into your mouth. choso’s body weight was now starting to grind against you again—but by now, he was straight up jumping you. he wants more, and you could tell as he was moaning into your mouth, grunting from his drooling cock that was rubbing up and down between your pasty entrance.
still swapping cobwebs of spit as the both of you smashed lips on each other—choso’s continues to spank his aching cockhead against your cunt whilst his lips desperately crash against yours. it turns him on, a lot more than he thought- and choso thinks he may have just found out his new favorite kink.
you.
✩ ˛˚ . SUGURU GETO.
being in a relationship with a boxer had its perks.
suguru geto—he was known for his fights, but more importantly his flexible positions. you’d always tease him about it, pokin’ fun at how you wish he’d fold you like his opponents one time for once. but oh, you’re taken aback once he takes you up on that offer.
“nuh uh, don’t tap out now, baby. let’s see that cute form,” geto grunts, pressing a wet kiss near the inside of your neck. the two of you were in his private gym, specifically his private ring where he’d always train. today though, you were needy, teasing him at how you wanted him to be put in a chokehold like he did to his opponents. but, the moment he’s got you straddling his lap as you’re cockwarming him, you’re nothing but a wet babbling mess. you moan, letting off a breathy gasp once the top part of his boxing glove rubs against your sobbing cunt. you were soaked, making a mess on the mat and a soft gasp creeps out the back of your throat once he wraps a beefy arm around your throat.
safely, geto’s got you in a firm chokehold — the exact one you’d usually see him perform on his other opponents. embarrassingly enough, your cunt twitches almost instantly, and you were trying to grind your hips back into him. “hngh, suguru- fuuuck,” you purr out, letting off a weeping mewling whimper as you felt his fat pointed dick ream a path through your insides. the entire gym was quiet. the only sounds that could’ve been heard were the wet sloshing sounds of geto’s glove gently smacking against your sprawled open pussy. psh after pshh and it only gets louder as you squirm, your thighs parting.
he’s big, manhandling you like this while you’re in a mere chokehold. once you’re starting to sloppily bounce on his lap, you can hear him hiss from the enticing friction. the electric sting of both mounds of flesh slamming on each other ends up giving you both whiplash. “h- hah, fuck, good girl. ride it—move those hips, fuck me back- mmph,” he starts to groan, the weight of your ass getting more and more impactful. geto’s meaty thighs glue against yours and you moan, feeling the curve of his cock rummaging through your squashy insides.
he’s so thick, that his plump tip runs through your tremulous walls before it frantically jackhammers its way to your cervix. letting off a squalling ‘ah!’ of a squeak, your back ends up falling into his broad chest. geto’s sweaty, bare skin rubs off against your skin and he groans. the sly dark-haired boxer wore nothing but his thinly made everlast boxing shorts. “suguruuuu,” you cutely drag out his name, moaning at the way his beefy bicep still wrapped around your neck. you’re bouncin’ up and down repeatedly and it’s almost comical at how your eyes were bulging out of their holes. your tongue was fully lolled, and you’ve never felt more stuffed. hit after hit, by this point, you were sure geto’s cock was gonna give your pretty pussy a solid, fair K.O.
but oh, geto ends up fucking you round after round - literally. he went from having you ride him to him pounding you into his squishy, red mat. your face vigorously presses into the cushion as you’re moaning, desperately whining out his name while he’s ‘practicing’ his special techniques on your cunt. the entire scene was lewd, and as you continued to whine out pathetic cacophonies of, ‘suguruuu,’ — ‘riiight there,’ — or his personal favorite, ‘ooooh, hit it there baby!’ ‘s, he’d feel his dick twitch inside you every time.
your ass raises the second he grabs ahold of your hip, and he’s madly drilling into you raw. each sloppy stroke and twist of his hips makes your toes curl and the bittersweet taste of your saliva ends up trickling down the side of your mouth, landing face-first on the vermillion-colored boxing mat. “fuckin’ shiiit, ‘m gonna cum, sweetheart,” he huffs, resting his free hand on your arched spine. so pretty - the way your ass tries to thrust back into his sharp hips was oh-so-cute. your pussy only got more sloppy, and as he’s feeling his cock preparing to release itself, you could almost hear a whimper snarl out from his throat. “ah, tell me where, f- fuck. talk to me, pretty.”
“i- insiiiide,” you squeal out with short breaths, his cock merrily kneading through your walls. it’s almost filthy at how loud your cunt was. just drooling such molasses of sheeny slick on his length, making an even bigger mess between your legs and on the fighting mat too. as he’s giving you his final, victorious thrusts that make your mouth snap open — a fairly lewd K. O., geto grunts, losing the match with his opponent being nothing more than your sweet, slippery cunt.
instantaneously, wads of thin bubbly ropes mesh with your slick juices, a pretty white ring foamin’ around his base. your release slams into you like a semi-truck, and your eyes crossed almost instantly.
with his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he’s pouring in such slimy amounts that end up tearing straight down your pulsing bare slit. geto groans, hazed and all as his darkened eyes glance at how you were perfectly arched for him. this position was perfect for you in his eyes.
ass up — face down, “goddamn,” he grumbles through pearly gritted teeth and a slack jaw. mewing satisfied coos purr out of your spit-slicked lips as you feel him plugging you up to the brim, hearing the wet plops ‘n paps of his hot, sticky cum dripping onto the mat. you only imagined what it looked like, how much of a fuckin’ mess you were. “hah- aren’t you a champ,” he pants, and you moan once geto smacks your ass.
speedily, he now makes you flip over with a swift toss of a single brawny arm before picking you up. “mmhn, sweetheart. you did ‘s good for me,” and as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, geto gives you a chaste kiss. a few loose strands of hair stick against your forehead as his tongue curls its way inside of your hot mouth before he snickers, pulling away. “ah, there’s one more position i wanna try though.”
“w- what?” you heave, pouting the second his lips depart from yours.
geto re-aligns himself between your leaking cunt that’s still profusely spurting out clods of milky clumps of his cum before he lifts you just a bit higher against his chest. “hm, oh- i just fuck you while standing up,” and you moan, wrapping your arms around his broad neck. ravened, feral eyes meet yours one more time and geto lets off a husky grunt, his boxing glove sneaking between your legs. “you’re my big girl though, yeahh?”
afab for all links ! disclaimer im poc, but only could find these links. if you have better accounts send it to me via ask box. (nsfw) highly requested and includes both sub and dom afab reader. warnings aren't listed. proceed at your own accord.
choso
link - fuckng choso during movie nigh | sub choso
link - choso fucks your tits in bed
link - cums on your tits
link - giving choso a hj after a bad day | sub choso
link - eating you out
sukuna
link - sukuna 'going easy' on you
link - in his domain
link - "takin it real deep, huh?"
link - " you can take it"
link - " spoiled girl.."
link - "you can take more than that, human"
gojo
link / link - riding gojo
link - "you're on birth control, right?"
link - "long day at work satoru?" | sub gojo
link - "pls let me have it baby" | sub gojo
link - " sweet boy" | sub gojo
link - someone's house party!
suguru
link - pus eating
link - guided pussy eating
link - "ya feel me ma?"
link - tit sucking
link - lazy
link - make it quick
toji
link - ride !
link - "lose the attitude."
link - early morning?
link - breakfast in bed
link - tease !
link - ones enough!
to see links you must log into your twt acc. all rights reserved
synopsis: your boyfriend is sick, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t horny.
contents: fem!reader, explicit language, clingy/needy satoru, suguru’s entrance at the end, NSFW, dirty talk, dry humping(??), cockwarming, unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm, squirting, markings, not proofread
word count: 2.8k
notes: not me being sick at the same time😭😭
“102.3… gosh, satoru, how did you even get this fever? you were fine yesterday,” you utter speechlessly, observing the number on the thermometer before glancing down at your boyfriend, who’s panting softly while keeping an arm over his eyes. satoru groans, unable to answer since he didn’t even know how he got it himself.
“i-i don’t know..” satoru’s head was aching, and he was burning all over. you draped him in a hoodie and sweats, while the comforter covered his entire lower body. “it’s too hot..” he groans, pushing the collar of the hoodie down to feel some cool air brush against the skin of his neck. satoru indicated that he wants the garment off, but you remove his hand away and sigh.
“you need a lot of rest,” you remind, reaching for the towel damped with tepid water and placing it on his forehead. “there’s several water bottles next to you if you need it, remember you need to stay hydrated. i’ll be making some porridge for you. if you need anything, just holler for me.”
“babyyy, stay here- i don’t need all that,” satoru firmly grasps his hand around your wrist, refraining you from walking away. he was pouting, glassy eyes staring up at you like he’d break any moment. “yes, you do. don’t give me that look,” you furrow your brows as you gently push your arm away.
“won’t you at least give me a kiss?” satoru blurts before you could turn around. you shake your head, patting his face before grinning. “hmm, maybe. but after you eat, i’ll consider it,” you reply, hoping it’d be assuring for him to stay put in his bed.
“fine,” he obliges, sinking back into the mattress and keeping himself warm even when his body was literally trembling and burning. you’d give him a kiss but you wouldn’t want the fever spreading onto you. since tomorrow, there was an important meeting you needed to attend, and getting sick was the last thing on your mind. “good boy,” you decide tease him before quickly slipping away.
“h-hey!” satoru’s body shoots up, eyes following your figure quickly heading towards the door. you stick your tongue out at him, making him realize you were just messing with him so that you could leave. oh gosh, the way you were dressed and how he hadn’t touched you in days was starting to bother him, very intently.
you enter his kitchen, humming a short tune while retrieving the ingredients to make a simple and warm porridge to help with his fever. satoru was barely home, so there never any food stored in his cabinet or fridge. well, that’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer for you. what’s even more surprising is how he can get sick with a fever like this. strong my ass, you snicker. but all jokes aside, satoru is still a human being after all.
satoru normally his spent time at your place anyway, which is why his home is limited in several things. he had much bigger, luscious, and appealing house than yours, so why wouldn’t he want to be in here all of the time? you even thought about asking to live with him, since you two have been together for three years and it didn’t sound like a bad idea. and you were certain it’d be better since you could easily take care of him like this.
you can hear satoru cough from his room as you bring a pot to the stove. “satoru! do you want some tea and cough medicine?!” you holler to him, waiting for a response to which you didn’t receive. you shrug, deciding to brew tea for him anyway. this wasn’t your first time taking care of satoru while he’s sick— it was just so uncommon that you figured you’d never see the state again. but thankfully you’re still prepared with medicines and other medical supplies for these situations.
after you finished gathering all of the ingredients together, you decide to prepare congee porridge, since it’s simple and refreshing, especially for when you have an illness. with a smile on your face, you began following the directions of cooking the congee just like you remembered.
as you were beginning to cook the congee in the pot, you didn’t even realize the tall figure approaching behind of you. therefore, you couldn’t react in time before satoru wraps his arms around your lower body and pushes himself against your back. his mouth lowers near your neck and ear, making you feel the gentle breeze of his soft breath.
“s-satoru?!” you squeak, almost dropping the spoon you were using to stir the congee. you turn your head slightly, feeling the heat of his body absorbing into your skin, but he seems to be relaxing slightly. “what are you doing? you need to be in bed, now.”
“don’t wanna..” satoru replies in a low voice as his lips gently grazes against your shoulder. his needy touch nearly sends shivers down your spine, but you two couldn’t be doing this, not when he’s sick. “fuck, baby.. i need you.. s’bad.. don’t care if i’m sick.. please..” he whines, pressing himself closer to you.
“‘toru- wait, stop!” you gasp, pushing yourself back so that you wouldn’t counter the hot surface of the stove. you give satoru a firm glare, but he’s too distracted with his own arousal to even notice. “how are.. why are you-? satoru, please, we can’t. you need to go back to bed right now,” you add, sighing in between while trying to nudge him away.
“n-no.. can’t,” satoru groans, pressing his face into your neck. he was panting gently again, trying to inhale your scent and feel up against your soft skin. “‘ve been so needy for you..” he whispers and you can feel his erection poking your ass as he starts grinding his hips slowly.
“sa-satoru, wait-“ you bite your lips, trying to resist yourself. you need to remember that he’s sick, and that he needed all the rest and care he could get in order to feel better. but his clinginess and neediness, his little whines and pants desperately calling and seeking for your touch wasn’t helping at all. satoru could almost feel your hips pushing back against his, making a faint smirk appear on his lips.
“don’t you see that? your body’s already moving for ya, you want it too, don’t you?” satoru whispers, pressing gentle kisses behind your ear and down your neck. “satoru-“ a quiet moan leaves your lip, as you feel one of his hands trail towards your inner thighs.
you do, of course you want it, but you both can’t do it.
“can i put it in, baby? please? i won’t move at all, i promise. just wanna feel your warm pussy around me, please,” satoru begs, the material of his sweats already outlining the size and shape of his aching cock. “n-no.. satoru.. you can do everything else but just don’t put it in,” you reply, glancing at him and he just nods. you couldn’t believe you said yes instead of forcing him back to bed, but you couldn’t resist his short seduction.
satoru bends you over slightly, lifting the skirt of the dress you were wearing and starts grinding his hips slowly against your ass, pressing his bulge into the soaked spot of your panties. you held back your moans, returning your attention to the congee that was barely even cooking. it was hard to make sure the porridge was being cooked properly because of satoru’s movements and the sounds he was making.
“f-fuck.. i can feel how wet you are- ngh- i c-could cum any second,” satoru moans, pushing his head back slightly as his hands grip around the sides of your ass. he starts grinding his hips faster, rubbing his clothed cock against the wet material covering your cunt. he desperately wanted you to cockwarm him, even if his body was already too warm enough to handle. he just couldn’t resist anymore, but he’s got to now that he notices you cooking.
“‘t-toru, please- slow down,” you request, unable to hold your moans as he nudges and roughly grinds himself against your pussy. it felt so damn good, making you aroused as much as he is. “ssshit,” satoru moans, moving his hips faster after you told him to reduce his speed. just how can he slow down when you two are already like this?
“fuck baby- i can’t.. please just let me put it in. please,” satoru begs again, his cock grinding far into you that it was almost pushing through the fabric of your clothes and into your pussy. “please, baby? please take care of me down here too,” he whimpers, pleading in desperation as his fingers start gently tugging the material of your panties.
“okay- fine. you can put it in..” you nod, giving him a short glance and satoru’s face lights up. now, there was no turning back for you. would you regret this later? probably, but at the moment, you didn’t possibly care for the outcomes. “but no moving..”
satoru removes his hoodie before pushing his sweats and tight boxers down, freeing his hard cock that slaps against his lower abs. you bite down on your lower lips, gazing at the sight of your boyfriend’s fat dick about to be stuffed into you. satoru gives his cock several short and slow pumps, spreading his leaked pre-cum against the skin of your ass cheeks before moving your panties to the side and lining himself at your entrance.
he holds the sides of your hips again, groaning and pushing his cock past your folds and deep into your wet cunt. you breathe a short gasp, moaning instantly while your walls clench tightly around his girth. satoru nearly cums because of the sensation and warmth of your hole, and almost starts thrusting— but he remembers that he was just going to put it in, and nothing else.
“i-i still have to cook.. your porridge, satoru-“ you manage to slip out, feeling your gummy walls pulsate around his cock. satoru grunts, grip tightening around your hips as he nods his head. “i know.. but fuck- just keep letting me feel your warm pussy like this,” satoru replies, pushing the rest of his length into you.
your focus on the congee was short when you shift your hips back slightly, feeling satoru’s dick twitch inside as your ass knocks against his pelvic area. it was overbearing to be unable to rock back against him and feel his cock kiss your deepest parts— you’d be opposing your own words. you lower the heat of the stove, almost completely turning it off as you realize you’re probably not going to finish the porridge anytime soon.
“t-thought you said no moving?” satoru huffs, pouting before slightly pushing out and back in. you moan, shaking your head. “i did…” you reply, turning your head around and meeting his gaze. his blue eyes were glistening, full of lust that he was withholding. however, seeing your face was enough for satoru to start thrusting very slowly.
satoru’s sensual grazes against your walls was causing louder moans to stumble from your mouth. you grip around him, sucking in his cock as you can feel him penetrate your deepest parts with his steady motions. you had to turn off the stove completely before satoru pushes you against the kitchen counter, fastening his thrusts.
“n-ngh, satoru- wait-“ you mewl, gripping the edge of the counter as you glance back at his flushed face. but he didn’t even allow you to continue speaking as he hoists one of your thighs, hand tightening the fat and plunging his cock deeper into your cunt. “fuckfuck- you need to slow down-“ you choke out, quite appalled at how satoru even had this much energy in him to fuck you like this. it didn’t matter though, since you’re clearly enjoying it.
“shit baby, i-i wanna fuck your pussy forever. you feel- so damn good,” satoru chants, hips banging into your ass as his pants start becoming heavier. he forgot that he was even sick himself, his neediness for you was overwhelming to the point he thought about nothing except drilling his cock into you like this. “o-oh god, ‘toru- pleasepleaseplease~” you cry out, head falling forward as he ravages your swollen cunt.
“fuck- please forgive me, baby. i can’t hold myself back anymore,” satoru says before lowering his body over yours, arms entirely laced around your waist and lips meeting the skin of your shoulder blades as he’s now pounding into you. you’re both moaning messes, grinding your bodies and feeling each other’s warmth. you can feel satoru’s cock rubbing your g-spot and his heavy balls smack your folds as your arousal starts trickling down your inner thighs.
“sa-satoru~ i’m g’nna cum-“ you whine, pushing your ass back as he’s still thrusting, erratically and sloppy but rough that it’s causing you to reach your orgasm. satoru presses soft kisses on certain areas of your shoulder, bringing one hand down to stroke circles against your clit. the touch was nearly making your eyes roll back, and the contractions of your pussy tighter around him.
“ngh- yes baby, cum on this cock that’s s’needy for you,” satoru whimpers, using his tongue to lick the lobe of your ear. his body was becoming exhausted, but he’s greedy and desires to fill your womb with his thick and warm load. satoru craves the feel of your delicate skin and inner parts of your pussy that’s squeezing him dry, stimulating him to pound you faster.
you squint, the sockets of your eyes welling with hot tears that stream down your face each time you blinked. your fingertips jab into the hard surface of the kitchen counter and your legs become wobbly that it’s nearly difficult to maintain standing. satoru’s mouth kisses and licks each area of your skin that he could find, before gently biting down and nibbling the flesh. it’d probably leave red marks later, but your mind doesn’t necessarily think of the idea as you’re occupied with satoru’s cock still abusing your hole.
after satoru’s each passing hard thrusts, you cum all over him— sensations of pleasure pumping throughout your entire body from your orgasm. your ejaculation squirts on satoru’s thighs and drips to the ground, making your body tremble. satoru cums next, dipping several deep strokes into your cunt and groaning your name as his warm semen milks your womb full.
you both stand there for a long moment, breathing heavily while your bodies are still pressed close together. satoru keeps his cock in you, making sure that none of his cum drips out of you and kisses your neck in a soft manner. “thanks baby.. i feel better now,” he whispers by your ear, his tone enunciating his exhaustion.
“hey- don’t fall asleep on me now! we have to clean up,” you give him a slight glare as his head raises up. satoru pouts, before nodding and stepping back. he slips his cock out, immediately feeling odd with not having you clench around him.
satoru thought of something that nearly sent blood rushing to his dick and he gives you that one stare as you push your dress back over your ass. “can you suck me off?” satoru requests, eyes sparkling with the anticipation of you saying yes.
“no.”
“then what about my kiss?”
“no, satoru. you didn’t even eat the congee,” you reply firmly, feeling yourself quiver as his cum tries to drip out of you. but maybe your next words could encourage something, or not since you two needed to clean up. “go to the bathroom, i’ll meet you there and maybe i’ll give you a kiss.”
“a-achoo!”
suguru gives you a glance, brows raised as he lifts the folder in his hands between you and him like he’s trying to not catch whatever you have. “bless you. gosh, are you sure you’re okay? you’ve been sneezing so much and it’s only 10 in the morning,” he states.
“i’m fine, suguru. just allergies,” you reply with a shrug, knowing damn well where you’re getting this ‘allergy’ from. of course, suguru was skeptical but nodded his head as you two proceed down the hall.
the meeting was less than 20 minutes, and as suguru was speaking with several of the first year students, you quickly dart to your office and search for a thermometer in your desk.
“101.3,” you read out quietly, blinking several times. but who were you to be surprised?
you: look, i’m sick
you sent the message to satoru, along with a photo attachment of the thermometer that read your body temperature. and not even a minute later, he reads it and replies.
satoru <3: well, guess we should go for another round today then ;)
LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.
a/n: pls i want this cold to go away😭😭 if anyone’s sick rn, i hope you feel better quick <3 (likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! have a nice day)
Boys who can’t control their moans so instead of holding back they just sink their teeth into your neck to let off some steam. He’s losing his mind. His cock is buried deep inside of you while his head is shoved into the crook of your neck. His moans are loud paired with the squeaking of the bed. His hands hold your legs apart spreading you open so he can fuck himself deeper inside of you.
“Fuck you drive me crazy baby” he groans.
His hips slam into yours creating a pattern of rough thrust that leaves you drooling, moaning his name. He’s been going for so long he’s fucking the two of you into overstimulation. Your whimpers sound like music to his ears, telling him you can’t take it, begging him to slow down. You’ve come so many times already and he’s determined to make you cum again.
“I- I can’t” you whimper. Your voice is a broken whine barely heard over the sounds of his cock diving into your cunt but he hears you. The smirk that grows on his face when he hears your cries is menacing.
“You can take it , I know you can. Listen to how this pussy is begging for me, she’s basically calling my fucking name” his voice his like silk whispering the words in your ear.
His tongue glides against your neck up to your ear. Your moans come out as broken sobs singing his name. His cock grows harder hearing how you call out to him.
“That’s it, say my name, tell me who fucks you this good” his voice sounds like a low growl.
Your trembling, mind gone with only pleasure and lust clouding your thoughts. Your nails drag down his back leaving marks he’ll smile proudly at later. You can barely form a sentence. Your words come out as a mix of slurred versions of his name and whimpers about how close you are.
“I knew you could do it” he purrs
His thrusts are slow, long and hard. Your hands shakily grab onto his shoulder desperately clinging onto him .
“Please please please” you whine.
“Please what? You want my cum?” He knows what you want, he just wants to hear you say it.
You fumble over your words continuously being caught in a moan. Your legs wrap around him pushing him deeper inside. You're overwhelmed by the pleasure . You squeeze your eyes shut feeling tears glide down your cheeks.
“Aww is my poor baby, Can’t take my cock?” He chuckles, licking the tears that stream down your face.
His thrust picks up speed. His hips slam into yours at a ruthless pace.
“Come on baby, give me one more and I promise I’ll lick that sweet pussy until your nice and clean”
He can’t contain the moans that spill past his lips. He bites your shoulder while he plunges his cock into you at a constant pace. His teeth dig into your skin earning him a soft cry. Your mouth hangs open, stuck between pain and pleasure. Your orgasm drowns you. Your body trembles as your nails cling onto him. Your legs tighten around him holding him in place. Your heart beats against your chest like a drum as you breathe heavily coming down from your high. He licks at the bite mark while pressing loving kisses to your skin. His lips meet yours with a delicate touch compared to his previous rough actions. Your lips dance against each other in sync to the beat of your hearts.
“You were so good for me” he whispers in between kisses. “Let me clean you up baby”
He kisses a trail down your trembling body to your core. His eyes gaze at the way your core glistens like stars in the night.
“So messy for me” he moans at the sight.
He dives in, licking a long strip between your slit.
Warnings: if it isn’t abundantly clear, this is smut :)
A/N: in honor of hitting 20k followers a while back, I’m going to be posting 10 NSFW alphabets for JJK men — scheduled post 4 :)
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Satoru is a mix between affectionate and exhausted. He’ll shower you in kisses and soft praises while yawning, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. He’ll mumble something about cleaning up after a nap, even if you’re squirming because you’re sticky he’ll assure you that after his nap, he’ll clean you up.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Satoru loves your thighs. He honestly loves every part of you but something about your thighs just draws him in. He loves to lay on them, squeeze them, hold them, feel the straddling his face… they’re just so soft. He can’t get enough.
Satoru is pretty proud of his hands. He enjoys the way you compliment them, the way they feel slotted in your own. He loves the way they make you squirm and whine, he loves it.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Satoru can be a bit of a pervert, he has a fascination with cum. He’s very partial to coming inside of you or at least on your sex. Something about the sight of his pearly cum covering you or leaking out of your entrance drives him absolutely insane. Satoru is also rather fascinated by his cum staining your underwear, especially after a quickie. He’ll see his own release dripping out of you and hike your underwear back up before you can clean yourself.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Satoru is a panty sniffer and he tries to be sneaky about it. He’ll find your used underwear in the hamper and use them to get off, sniffing them while tugging his cock or using them to aid jerking off. What he doesn’t realize is you purposely leave your underwear around for him to “find”.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Satoru has a good amount of experience, enough to know what he is doing. But he can also argue that his consumption of porn videos and raunchy hentai aided his abilities. He’s a hands-on learner so it’s not surprising that he got a hang of things pretty quick.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Satoru enjoys just about anything but he likes positions where he can be really – and I mean almost suffocatingly – close to you. Mating press, missionary, spooning, cock-warming, etc. Anything where he can fucking squeeze you and keep you from getting away.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)
Satoru is fairly serious but that doesn’t mean he won’t make sly comments or even joke with you a bit. He adjusts his own “humor” to what you like. He wants you to be comfortable so if you seem to relax more when he jokes around and talks to you a lot while fucking, he’ll do it. But he’s also capable of keeping the talking to a minimum, letting his body do the work while praising you endlessly. Though if one of you fumbles around a bit, he will not hesitate to chuckle. He thinks its really cute so don’t take offense.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Satoru’s hair down there matches the hair on his head, he rather likes that so it’s very rare that he’ll shave or wax it bald. Though, again, if you request him to, he’ll do it. Satoru maintains himself very well, cleaning himself every day and trimming every 1-2 weeks.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Satoru can be disgustingly romantic when fucking you, especially when he’d close to coming. He tends to blabber a bit, telling you how perfect you are, how much he adores you and needs you, that he loves you. He means every word of it too. He’s always down for less serious, playful sex, but he’ll still make sure to let you know how much you mean to him.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
1-3 times a week depending on his schedule and how long he’s away from you. He’s not shy about it, taking time out of his busy day to get off when he absolutely needs to. He claims it clears his head, sometimes he really can’t focus if he’s too worked up.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Satoru really enjoys praising (both giving and receiving). Truthfully, he’s really into bondage and shibari but he can get shy about it. He just likes the idea of restraining and being restrained. He supposes it can count as a kink, but he really likes fucking you while you wear his blindfold or eye wraps. He finds it hot, especially since you can’t see what's coming next.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Satoru knows himself and his body well enough to know he will knock out after sex 9/10 times. His favorite places to fuck you are all within your own home… and within range of your bed. He loves to fuck you on a bed of course, but he also enjoys just about any surface of your home. He even made it a little game once you moved in together, keeping mental notes of what rooms he had fucked you in and what rooms he still needed to.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
He feels a bit basic for this, but cute clothing and cute lingerie really does it for him. He enjoys when you dress up, maybe wear something sexier, but he’s very drawn to the pastels and laces on the various lingerie you like to buy. Sometimes it’s just as easy as batting your eyelashes for him and Satoru will find his cock twitching to life.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He will NEVER force you to do anything, but he is also willing to try just about anything you desire. Satoru draws the line at slapping and intentionally hurting. Even if you beg him to hit you, the most he’ll offer is a spank on your ass or chest but he’ll never slap your face.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Satoru is addicted to you going down on him. This man lives for blow jobs and he is not ashamed to admit that. He also adores going down on you, considering himself very skilled in that aspect. But fuck does he love it when you suck him off.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It depends on the mood and your preferences. Satoru will tailor your sex excursions to fit your needs perfectly while still taking himself into consideration. Naturally, Satoru falls into the rough category with his hips moving quicker than he can handle sometimes.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Satoru is down for a quickie so long as you promise him caffeine or sweets after. I’m serious when I say this man will pass the fuck out after he blows his load. He prefers taking his time, not having to worry about being late for an event or being walked in on. Though he never really cared in the first place, people can wait on him.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Satoru will try anything at least once. He’s not shy with experimenting and isn’t afraid of risks. He understands that bodily functions can and will occur while trying different things (such as anal or pegging for example) and he understands things can… go down. But he’s fine with that.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Penetration wise, Satoru is a one and done kind of guy but he can push two or three if he’s really worked up (both hormone wise and adrenaline wise). When inside of you, Satoru can last between 5-8 minutes. But he makes sure to get you off as many times as you desire before getting himself off and calling it a night.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Satoru has no shame in using toys, both on himself and on you. He thinks they’re fun, and he finds no competition with them. Rather he uses them to enhance the experience instead of letting it do all the work. He’s very partial to the “magic wand” vibrator he bought for the two of you to use. Going as far as to buy a backup for when the original stops working.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Satoru can and will tease you until you are sobbing but he makes up for it by making you come as many times as you can handle. He’ll never leave you hanging, even as a punishment. He’d rather overstimulate you than leave you with nothing because he knows how frustrating that can feel… and he just wouldn’t feel right about it.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
This man does nothing to keep his voice down or his volume to a minimum. He is moaning, cursing, whining, whimpering, begging, he has no shame in any of the noises he makes for you.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Satoru has toyed with the idea of a threesome but would give you full reigns on who the addition would be. He doesn’t mind if it’s a man or a woman, he’s not picky. But the more he toys with the idea the more he realizes how possessive he is over you and can’t bring himself to approach the topic with you. He’s not self conscious, he just… he thinks nobody can satisfy you like he does so why waste their time for a mediocre experience.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
When soft he’s about 5 ½ inches (14cm). When it's hard, he’s just shy of 7 inches (around 18cm). He’s girthy, enough to need preparation before entering you but nothing too painful. He’s pretty straight, a slight curve to the right but it’s not very noticeable. He’s pale, a flushed pink tip with veins running along his shaft. He’s very pleased with his dick.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Very high but he can control it well. Satoru can get a bit cranky if he doesn’t have sex at the very least four times a week. Even then he considers that to be too little. But with a busy schedule he’s not always home so it can’t always work out in his favor.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Literally within thirty seconds. He’ll keep himself up for as long as it takes to get you comfortable and settled in his arms and even then he’s out within two minutes.
summary: 4.0k words — it’s a bit difficult to choose who you’d rather have eat your pussy. maybe you should just flip a coin
includes: fem reader, reader is satoru's girlfriend, au not specified but written with no curse au in mind, cuckolding, cunnilingus, teasing, basically satoru and suguru trying to figure out who eats you out better
author’s notes: the inspo behind this was me trying to decide which of the two would be better for a pussy eating drabble and i just decided they both would. so like a true problem solver, i made them both eat pussy
most people tend to crush on suguru first. he knows it, satoru knows it, and you’ve been a victim of it. it’s nothing personal against satoru—he’s got his own charm, of course. suguru has just been blessed with a sweeter nature, something a bit more welcoming at first glance.
it takes some time and perhaps a decent amount of actions that speak louder than words, but you learn to appreciate satoru. more than you originally thought, too, because now it’s been four months of dating—and not just the causal fling type of thing. it’s the real, exclusive, commitment type of thing.
you’re over suguru; it was always just a crush and nothing more.
satoru is something that feels much deeper than that, something more intimate and raw and maybe even destined if you start to get cliche. your past appreciation for his best friend’s beauty doesn’t have to interfere with what you feel for him now. that’s why the three of you can be here, comfortably seated in your living room as you play a round of truth and dare for the sake of entertaining yourselves.
“truth or dare?” suguru asks, turning to you once it hits your turn, making you contemplate for a moment. there’s a half-drunken beer bottle in his hand, one he slides over to satoru across the coffee table for a sip as you tap your lip in thought.
“truth,” you say finally, making him grin at you amusedly. there’s a feeling in your gut that this isn’t going to go how you’d like, but you push it down.
“don’t think picking truth will make me go easier on you,” he snorts. and then he looks at satoru with a look that tells you he’s planning something at your boyfriend's expense, and you’re not sure if you like it. “who was your crush before satoru?”
that makes satoru choke on his sip of beer. you wince, watching how his eyebrows furrow as soon as the question’s asked. satoru is always more than a little jealous—but it’s cute in its own way; he’s pouty and whiny and (more) clingy every time he starts to feel possessive. if anything, it’s endearing when he’s like that more than it is annoying. it’s makes you feel wanted. maybe even a sick and twisted part of you feels a little satisfied that he cares that much, although you hate to admit it.
but this might not be light jealousy. or even the cute kind. hearing this answer might just crush him—you can’t do that to him. not over some silly surface-level attraction you had for suguru because he smiled sweetly and had nice bangs.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you glare, making suguru snicker in amusement.
satoru looks confused, the poor thing. looking back and forth between you two like he’s lost from some inside joke that he’s desperately trying to decipher.
“oh yeah?” suguru snorts, “don’t think i didn’t notice the way you looked at me.”
that’s all he needs to say for satoru’s mouth to fall open—it’s a devastated look. his head whips to turn to you in a second’s time as he looks at you for confirmation.
“what? he’s lying, right baby? you never had a thing for him, right?”
you hesitate. you just can’t bring yourself to lie to satoru, and it doesn’t help that suguru is right there too, right there where he has the truth so easily dangling from his fingertips to drop into the palm of your boyfriend’s hands. you’d rather he just hears it from you.
the hesitation doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by satoru because he looks at you crestfallen.
“it was silly,” you try to reassure, “it didn’t actually mean anything! i just thought he was kind of cute, that’s all.”
“you didn’t think i was cute?” he asks, hurt.
“of course i did!” you insist quickly.
suguru doesn’t seem to be satisfied with the pure mess he’s started just yet, because he adds a sly, “i guess i was just cuter.”
satoru looks at you with what you can only describe as a purely crestfallen expression. you glare at suguru before you cup your boyfriend’s cheeks and squeeze them together in hopes of cheering him up.
“i got over it really fast,” you try to reason, “suguru isn’t nearly as funny or endearing.”
that seems to cheer him up a little, mainly because satoru has just about the biggest affinity for praise you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, but you haven’t quite eased his worries completely. you can tell as he wraps a possessive arm around you and pulls you into his side, glaring at suguru as he narrows his eyes.
“my girlfriend doesn’t like you or your emo piercings. get your own girlfriend.”
“i didn’t say i want your girlfriend,” suguru rolls his eyes, “i just pointed out that she wanted me.”
“i didn’t want you like that,” you interrupt, crossing your arms, “i thought you were attractive for maybe a few weeks before satoru grew on me.”
“yeah! i grew on her,” he nods from the side, “because i don’t have emo piercings and balloon pants.”
“and i don’t have geriatric hair. what’s your point?”
it’s all back to normal within a few moments, you realize. perhaps suguru and satoru are just like that. they push buttons you can’t imagine why, but they end up right back into that fond back-and-forth bickering as always. you can’t help but chuckle and shake your head as you tune them out.
suguru has always had a thing for causing trouble—most people tend to lump that habit in with satoru, but that’s because he’s always just been a bit more loud about it. suguru likes to start the sparks slowly instead of lighting the match. it’s a slow process, but it ends in flames all the same. but you think it’s turned out fine in the end. you don’t seem to have a sulking and glum boyfriend to coddle back to normal, and that’s really all that matters.
suddenly, you’re pulled out of your thoughts to a now very different conversation—you’re not really sure how it escalated to that in just a few moments
“—um, no. i definitely eat pussy better than you,” satoru snorts, “unlike you, i actually have someone to practice on.”
“i’ve definitely been doing it longer,” suguru looks at satoru in disbelief, “you always had no bitches.”
“i don’t have bitches because i have a girlfriend,” satoru huffs, “and she’s very happy with my skills, right baby?”
you look at him when he stares at you expectantly, simply mortified, as you slap his arm. “what’s wrong with you two?” you ask with heated cheeks.
they’re shameless, the both of them.
“ow,” he hisses, looking at you incredulously, “it’s true! i’m good at eating you ou—”
“please, toru,” you groan in disbelief, hands clasping over your face in embarrassment. “please just shut up.”
“why don’t you test it then?” satoru ignores you, pretending like he doesn’t see the pure shame on your face at the nature of his offer, “see which of us is better?”
“are you out of your mind?” you feel lightheaded. satoru and suguru have always gotten you into some rather compromising situations—they cause a lot more trouble than what is considered normal, and the consequences tend to become your problem too. but this? this seems a step too bold even for them.
and where is that usual jealousy that seems to be a part of satoru’s dna gone? how is he just okay all of a sudden with (literally) letting his best friend have a taste of his girlfriend?
“no, no,” suguru shakes his head, unwilling to back down as you try to dismiss the conversation, “let’s test it, shall we? who eats pussy best. right here, right now.”
“oh you want to make it a competition? yeah, okay, you’re on,” satoru nods, face serious. he’s determined. he’s dangerously dedicated, it seems, to prove it’s a factual claim that he can please you better, and you’re not sure how the deal breaker for ending this argument has somehow worked its way to this method of all things.
but you’re not sure you have a good feeling. especially because…well, there’s only one pussy in this room, and it’s certainly not one of theirs. you’re beginning to think you’ll be the subject of a very pointless test.
“guys, i think you’re getting too worked up over a really stupid—”
“okay. i’m game too,” suguru shrugs, staring at satoru with a heated gaze—he’s just as invested in this competition, it seems. and that’s dangerous because, as troublesome as he can be, suguru is the usual voice of reason between the two of them.
“you’ll see,” satoru mutters from beside you, “she’ll cum harder from me.”
“i think she’ll be the judge of that,” suguru says dryly.
you stare at the two of them back and forth in shock, lost in all words.
“guys, seriously. we can’t just—”
“baby,” satoru looks at you pleadingly, “you have’ta be the judge. and be honest, okay? don’t be shy to let him know he sucks.”
“oh i don’t think she’ll be saying that,” suguru chuckles, eyeing you smugly as you shiver at the look.
logic and dignity partner up to tell you that, no, this is not a good idea. not by a longshot. satoru is your boyfriend, and even if this is his idea and not yours, once he’s finally come to his senses, he probably won’t appreciate his best friend having an intimate moment with you. especially not after he just found out his best friend happened to be your former (brief) crush. and not only that, but you and satoru are seriously committed. four months have almost felt like four years with him, and you don’t want to disrespect how serious this relationship is starting to become.
but logic and dignity are outspoken by lust and curiosity. their voices are much louder in your head, and perhaps if you were a better person, then maybe they wouldn’t be winning in your head. maybe if you were someone with stronger discipline and self-control, or even had just a small semblance of tact, you wouldn’t be tempted to entertain this competition the two men in your presence have conjured up. it’s not that you have feelings for suguru—it’s not that you ever had feelings for suguru. attraction can be entirely physical and nothing else, and the little throb in your pussy at the thought of tugging at suguru’s hair when he’s between your thighs is just a human reaction. not indicative of your wishes, just your needs.
you look between the two, biting your lip. they look at you with a certain hunger—maybe it’s a desire for you, maybe it’s a desire for being right, or maybe it’s a desire for both. it’s a desire all the same, and satoru and suguru are not the only ones guilty of it.
“okay, fine,” you sigh, fiddling with your fingers, “this isn’t a regular kind of thing.”
“of course,” suguru says in a tone that comes off as serious, but you don’t think he’s very serious at all. in fact, if you didn’t know better, you’d say it comes across as slightly amused. like he knows something you don’t. “it doesn’t mean anything. we’re just having some friendly competition. that’s all.”
“friendly competition, my ass,” satoru spits, “it’s not even a competition if you don’t stand a chance.”
with that, satoru gently pushes you back on the couch, swiftly pulling your pajama bottoms off with one tug that has you gasping in shock. you didn’t think he’d get right into it—and yes, obviously, suguru would have to be eye to eye with your cunt in order to actually…well, eat your pussy, but the concept versus the actual moment feels a lot more scandalous than you thought. his eyes don’t leave the spot between your legs for even a second, darkening as satoru forces your thighs apart and bites at your thigh.
“there she is,” satoru grins, kissing his way up until his lips find your clit, murmuring a soft, “missed this beautiful pussy. looks like she missed me too.”
you’re wet. you’re acutely aware that satoru and suguru can see that clear as day—despite your protests and scolding for their lack of shame, you so shamelessly have a dripping cunt from nothing more than mere words. it’s embarrassing, but you can’t be bothered to focus on that when satoru’s lips are so close to where you need them.
he sighs happily, like he’s returned home after a long day, like being between your thighs is the oasis he’s been searching for in the scorching heat of the desert. one sip would be all he needs to quench that thirst. except it’s not one sip—his tongue licks a stripe up your pussy before it slides between your folds, messy and desperate as he licks and sucks and devours every inch of you his tongue can reach.
you gasp, eyes instantly shutting closed as you whine. it’s a familiar feeling, and it’s definitely something satoru has practiced one too many times. he knows exactly what you like—the way you get goosebumps when his hand rubs your lower belly, the way tossing a leg over his shoulder makes you whimper, the way flicking his tongue over your clit before sucking makes your back arch.
you whine, completely forgetting suguru is right there watching, getting an eyeful of your puffy clit every time satoru teases it. all you can pay attention to is the way there’s a dull ache forming between your legs, forming its way up to your belly and tightening, tightening, tightening. it’ll snap soon—you can feel it. the way satoru’s lips make out your cunt has you gasping for air, choking on attempts to cry his name.
there’s a low chuckle from him, vibrating against your pussy, making you twitch. “baby,” satoru says lowly, “i gotta record you someday. you should just hear those pretty little sounds you make—they’re like music.”
“t-tor—ngh.”
satoru chuckles again against your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves before he sucks, pulling away slowly for a moment as he admires the way your walls flutter around nothing.
“aw, look at you,” he coos, his voice dripping with so much sweetness you could get a toothache from just a taste, “you’re falling right apart. putting on a good show for suguru, is that it? what a good girl.”
then he’s back, lips kissing against your slick-coated heat, sloppy as he groans against you and works his tongue as deep into you as he can. you mewl at the sensation, the familiar feeling creeping up on you as satoru eagerly laps away at you. he’s everywhere at once—one second, you feel him biting at your thighs, then he’s flattening his tongue against your clit, and then he’s flicking it deep between your walls.
you cry a stuttered, “m’c-close, toru—oh.”
“you’re close? don’t you think that’s a little fast, sweetness?” he teases, making you whimper as you feel the hum of his words against your core, “suguru will think i neglect you. we can’t have that, can we?”
despite his teasing, you cum on his tongue instantly, your body stiffening as your orgasm hits full force. you can’t help it, the way every part of you lights on fire as the coil snaps. your toes curl, heels digging into his shoulder, back lifting off the cushion, and expression simply shattering as you feel your pussy clench around nothing. you can feel your walls spasm, the devastating waves of pleasure practically palpable from the way your hand grabs his as he lets you reach for it.
he doesn’t let go even as you crush his bones, nor does his tongue ease its abuse on your clit as he flicks across it and works you through your high. distantly, through the blurred vision and shaky breaths, you can make out the click of suguru’s teeth, but he’s the least of your concerns as you slump and try to catch your breath.
satoru has always been good at finding your weak spots, and he never goes easy on you. he hits you full force, expertly riling you up and having you fall right apart in one too many ways that leave you breathless. it’s why it’s so easy with him, you think—he just knows you so well.
you’re not quite sure how suguru can beat that.
but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit phased as he stands there, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you in amusement (and something suspiciously close to excited, too) as he steps closer. your eyes don’t miss the bulge in his pants, making him grin at you smugly as he catches you glance down.
“that was quite the performance,” he drawls, so kind and soft like the first time he ever spoke to you.
you’re starting to remember why you were so quick to find an attraction to him—suguru is certainly not a creation god rushed himself over. every curve and slant of his features looks like careful, diligent, meticulous hands created him. he’s pretty, so pretty. painfully easy on the eyes and such a good personality to match it that you don’t understand how he’s single. not that you want him—but someone must, right?
“she wasn’t performing,” you hear satoru say through a bitter scoff, “if you didn’t notice, she was very much reacting in real time.”
“oh i bet,” suguru snorts. he sinks down before you and spreads your legs open in a slow, achingly teasing manner that makes you want to close them right back up. but you can’t, not with the way his hands are so strong, so gentle yet firm in the way they touch you. “the prettiest pussies are always the most sensitive—but you actually have to know how to play with them.”
suguru leans closer, breath fanning over your already sensitive heat before he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your entrance, nose brushing against your clit. you whimper, bucking into him, but he keeps your hips pinned down, daring you with just one glance to move again.
something tells you that you won’t like it so much if you do that again—so you try not to.
“see, the thing is,” suguru says slowly, words barely a whispered breath as he teases his tongue over your clit just barely, leaving a ghost of a touch where you need him most, “giving what she wants is easy. making her actually want it is the real game.”
satoru lets out a dissatisfied grunt at that. you wish you could look over at him and bring yourself to care about his unhappiness, but you can’t. in fact, you couldn’t care less at the moment—all you care about is coming apart on suguru’s tongue, and you haven’t even properly felt it yet.
suguru is less enthusiastic when his mouth latches onto your cunt, but more precise. his tongue is careful and slow, painfully deliberate and calculated as it explores you. it’s just enough that you feel your vision blur, but not nearly enough to break you just yet. you helplessly let out a whine of protest, and he gently sways at your clit in warning.
that makes you moan. you can feel him smirk against you, and a small part of you feels bad, but an even larger part of you feels so good. he’s so slow at drawing your pleasure out, circling his tongue over your clit before sinking into you, tasting every corner and savoring you like he has enough time to really appreciate you for all that you are.
you think you know the difference now—satoru eats you out because he loves you. he gets high off making you feel good, like giving to you is what he was made for. suguru eats you out like tasting you is his own pleasure, like every drop of you on his tongue is for him to take, and taking from you is his god given right.
it’s two sides of one coin. heads or tails, it’s all worth the same.
“f-fuck,” you pant, reaching for those dark locks of his, the same ones you once wondered about. how they felt, how they tangled in your fingers, how they made him feel when you tug. the strands are as soft as you imagined, maybe even more so, and one tug makes suguru groan against your dripping core.
you gasp at that, quivering as the low vibrations meet your sensitive cunt.
“do that again, princess,” he says softly, humming before he goes back to flicking his tongue between your walls and rolling along the sensitive nub of your clit. “you should hold on. i’m taking my sweet time with you.”
he says it, and he means it. every time you think suguru is done teasing, your miserably mistaken. he pulls away, stares deeply at your pussy for a moment or two that you almost feel shy, walls twitching at nothing and waiting for some kind of touch. anything, really. and just when you whine a soft, “please, suguru—can’t wait anymore,” he chuckles and moves right back in.
it makes for a painful type of pleasure, one that’s mind breaking, one that makes your body feel ten times heavier than it really is, limbs glued to the couch as you can do nothing else but take it. you’re close, so painfully close when he breathes, “do you wanna cum for me? you want to right?”
“yes, yes, yes,” you babble, head spinning and so dizzy you don’t even comprehend that he’s laughing at the way you’ve answered his question one too many times.
“i heard you,” he teases, “don’t worry. i’ll give you what you want. how could i not?”
just like that, suguru flattens his tongue against your clit and flicks it faster than he’s granted you so far. it makes you buck your hips again—he lets you this time, too. lets you grind against his face and practically cut off his air as you desperately take what you want. finally.
it feels like taking the first breath of fresh air after breaking the surface of water, air filling your lungs after you’ve held your breath for so long. your second orgasm has been lurking in the corners for so long, when it finally lunges at you, you’re not prepared. you squeal broken cries of, “s-suguru—fuck, i can’t suguru.”
but you can. he knows you can because you let him when he takes and takes, pulling every small whimper and roll of your hips from you as he makes you cum for him on his tongue. he’s greedy, the way his mouth latches onto you, tastes you carefully like he’s making sure to savor your essence and never forget.
you suppose he shouldn’t ever have this opportunity again if you’ve got any sort of practicality.
“see?” suguru pulls away when you’re finally done, body spent as you heave labored breaths on the couch, limp and tired. well taken care of, of course, but so deeply exhausted. “doesn’t it feel so much better when you’ve been wanting it for so long?”
satoru crosses his arms, scowling at his best friend as he argues, “if you know what she likes, she always wants it. you don’t have to do all that.”
“and if you make her want it, she’ll like whatever you give. you’re just not as good.” suguru is too smug for satoru, enough that you watch your boyfriend kicks the man’s shin with a roll of his eyes. you’d scold him if you could use your voice—you still find you can’t.
“baby, tell suguru i was better,” satoru whines.
“c’mon, don’t lie to him. how’ll he get any better if you do?” suguru grins at you.
you look between the both of them, unsure which side of the coin you fall on.
“heads or tails?” you ask.
they blink, looking at you confused. “what?” you hear them say, in sync.
“i say we just flip a coin,” you shrug tiredly, “winner gets to prove themselves one more time.”
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ctrltoru — do not plagiarize, translate, or repost.
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