#Tyrone fan fic

[megamindsecretlair]

Have Mercy

A/N: Based on this ask. It contained porno links. Whoever you are, ya nasty and I love you. This is a bit of a deviation so I'm sorry if it wasn't what you pictured! Thank you for the support!

Pairing: Pornstar!Tyrone x Black!Shy!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH for nearly 5k words! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, dirty talk, degradation/praise kink, Daddy kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, all consensual. Use of n-word. Disrespectful Tyrone. Drug use. Established friendship.

Summary: After a very steamy porn video by Tyrone, you can't help your curious questions as you hang out and discuss his work. You'd been too shy to ask before, but you're dying to know what it's like in person.

Word Count: 5,284k

A/N: I was just waiting on the right spark to answer this ask. And...look, you all know how fuckin' feral I am for Tyrone. It's not a surprise. I promise 5k words is worth it. This was so fuckin' hot to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please, please, consider leaving a comment or reblogging to help support writers. I can't get better with no feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings

“Okay, but like…they just kind of sit there and…” You stopped talking and started jerking your hand. You looked across the hazy space towards Tyrone. He was laying across the bed and looked at you down the blunt he held to his mouth. The orange-red spark glinted and then dimmed as he pulled it out. He licked his lips and then blew out the smoke.

“Shit, ion know. I do this shit myself,” Tyrone said. 

Tyrone passed the blunt and you grabbed it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling. You turned your head towards the ceiling, your eyes expanding. “So, you got a camera and microphones and shit?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Tyrone said and took the blunt from you. “Got to these days. If I’ma be rocking somebody’s shit, then everybody gon’ see it.” He brought the blunt to his lips and pulled on it. 

You tried to picture it. Your head was so blessedly silent for once. You actually formed a thought and kept it. Tyrone on the bed, naked. Showing off ropes and ropes of thick muscle. Arms strong enough to break coconuts. Thighs begging to be ridden. 

Your core heated up, a small tingle working up the back of your thighs. You bet he was the type to hold on and get to work. But you smirked at him and started to giggle. 

“You always talk that shit, Ty,” you said. Your giggles kept going, making your stomach hurt. You flattened your hand on your stomach. “Don’t make me laugh! My tummy hurt!” 

Tyrone stared at your high ass and smirked. Fuck. It took forever to make him laugh. Like the mu’fucka was born with ice down his throat. You longed to hear that rare, raspy laugh. 

“I talk big ‘cuz my dick big,” he said and huffed out a chuckle. It was barely enough to call it a laugh. 

The mention of his dick had you clenching your thighs. You’ve memorized the way Tyrone walked. He walked like he was swangin’ dick down there. Also, you’d never in a million years tell him, but you’ve seen his videos. 

You had second hand evidence that he was packin’. You have came plenty of times just to the sound of his voice on those videos. He rarely fucked the same girl twice. They were all different women; all Black women, and all thick Black women. 

You weren’t a snob. Sometimes you’d watch the woman getting their back blown out and wish it were you. But his voice. You were knee deep in his comments and he was gaining popularity just from his voice alone. 

You giggled again. “Where do you even find these women? You being safe?” You asked. You knew perfectly well that he fucked without a condom. Hell, you’d let him cum in you too. 

“I get checked every month and only fuck bitches that’s clean. Some hit me up. Some I find in the wild,” he said. 

He puffed on the blunt after you handed it back. Your body wasn’t floating but it felt like it. There was an all around hum on your body. 

“The wild? Like…damn, you just find women willing to have sex on camera and release it?” You never had enough courage to ask these questions before. But after last night’s video, you wanted to know. Your burning curiosity finally won out and started asking about it.

“You’d be surprised how many mu’fuckas wanna watch themselves. Some don’t wanna be seen. That’s fine. Hide they face and whatever. But the real nasty ones don’t cum unless the camera in they face,” he said. He released a cloud of smoke to join the rest.

You thought of being one of those women. Showing your face on camera for millions to gawk at. Cum to. You’d never in a million years…but the thought wasn’t terrible. There would be evidence that Tyrone fucked you and he’d control it. He could do anything with it.

“Do you rehearse and shit? Like do you know what you’re gonna say before?” You asked. 

“Hell naw,” he said and huffed again. 

He comes up with those filthy things on the spot? You bit your lip. Maybe…having sex with Tyrone wouldn’t be good. He’s a different breed. In a class all on his own. Sure, the videos could have told you that. But hearing it from the source? You weren’t so sure you wanted to find out what he was like. 

“You real curious tonight,” he said. The orange light from the blunt casted soft shadows over his face. 

You shrugged. “We ain’t talkin’ bout shit else,” you said. 

“You forget I know yo ass? You real curious,” he said. He looked at you skeptically. You looked right in his eyes. You were not going to give him an inch. You had years worth of experience pretending to not be in love with him. That every video wasn’t like a stab in the heart. 

He was making good money though and you weren’t gonna fuck with someone’s bag. So you kept your mouth shut. Pretended that you were just his friend. Just a friend. 

The bed shifted and Tyrone leaned closer to you. His eyes searched your face. He leaned in closer than he has ever been to you. His nose lightly grazed yours, making it both tingly and itchy. 

You swallowed hard and you knew you made a sound. Tyrone huffed, the breath fanning across your face.

“You trynna find out?” He asked. 

“Naw nigga,” you said. You didn’t know where this boldness came from. But your heart thundered in fear that he would learn your secret. You’d kept it so close to your heart for so long. It was like its own tiny dagger always piercing your heart. But sometimes removing it hurts you worse than keeping it in. If you opened your big mouth, you’d ruin this. This time spent together. 

Tyrone kissed your cheek. His lips lingering against your cheek as he spoke. “Every time I mention gettin’ down, you tell me I’m lyin’. So let me prove myself,” he said.

You giggled, the weed making him glow. You stared across his regal looks. You bet he was  a king in a previous life. 

You wriggled on the bed and took a deep breath. Stay strong. Stay strong. “You actin’ crazy, Ty. Not every girl wanna be yo bitch,” you said. You sounded weak to your own ears. 

“Mhm, I think you the one lyin’. I think you been cravin’ this dick,” he said. He pecked your cheek and traveled down. His lips kissed a trail of fire down to your neck.

“What you say that for?” You asked.

“You wanna know what it’s like to be fucked by me, don’t you?” He asked. He kissed up to your ear and laughed. “I know what desire look like. I eat that shit for breakfast,” he said.

His words made your mouth drop open. Words of denial rushed to your lips. But your mouth turned dry. The fuckin’ weed speeding along your anxiety at being exposed. 

“You trippin’, man,” you said. You shook your head, but he kept up the pressure on your neck. Practically making out. Little swipes of his tongue made you bite back a groan. Your panties were so damp, they were sticking to you. You ran the palms of your hands up and down your thighs. 

“You talk big game. You aint tell me to stop yet neither,” he said.

Fuck. True. But how could you? He hadn’t even done anything to you yet and you were ready to burst. You just made yourself cum this morning, thinking of the video last night. He had looked delicious pounding someone into the bed. How you wanted it to be you. 

Your words died in your throat. What could you say? He was seducing yo ass. Did you really want that to stop?

“Fine then, nigga. Break my back,” you said. You looked him in the eyes with the challenge in your eyes. He looked up at you and grinned. Yo momma ain’t raise no bitch. You got nervous sometimes but that’s okay. It’s okay to be nervous. Do shit anyway. 

The words sounded nice, but you were terrified of the look in Tyrone’s eyes. That was not the look of someone who was going to be sweet and loving in bed. Tyrone the Pornstar was here. 

He got off of the bed and moved the ashtray off of the bed and onto the nightstand. The sound of the glass was like a gunshot. You flinched and watched his every move. He stood up to his full height and stared at you.

The look in his eyes was not friendly. It was predatory. You were an unknowing baby bunny and he was a starving wolf. He reached out with his hands and ran them up and down your bare thighs. You gasped and flinched away from him. 

“When was the last time you been fucked?” He asked. 

You’ve taken your fair share of guys to your bed. Some were even good. None ever came close to Tyrone. Each time you came, it was to the sound or memory of Tyrone’s voice. 

“Been a while,” you said. 

He nodded his head. He reached for the zipper of your shorts and you let him unzip it. He didn’t pull your shorts down all the way. He opened your zipper as far as it would go and then pulled down the front just enough to see your panties.

You were hoping to disrobe in a quick rush. You weren’t exactly prepared for sex tonight. You wore one of your boring and safe panties. It didn’t bother Tyrone. He stared at it, like he’d just unwrapped a present. 

“Talkin’ all that shit. Why yo panties wet then?” He asked. 

You looked away briefly. “Thinkin of this guy at my job I got a crush on,” you said.

Tyrone dug his fingers into your panties and you cried out. “Every time you lie to me, that’s another orgasm,” he said. “I’m already thinkin’ of..four, maybe. I can keep goin’,” he said. His deep voice made you shiver. 

His fingers were right there. Your stupid panties were in the way. You felt the pressure but not his beautiful, strong hands. “I’m not lyin’,” you said.

He dug his fingers in more and you jerked from the strong wave of desire. It was like you drank static. 

“A’ight that’s five. And I want you to count ‘em out too,” he said. 

“Wait, I’m sorry,” you said. You never had your limits tested, but you were pretty sure you’d die after the third one. If he went for five, you weren’t going to survive. There were too many things you wanted to accomplish before you left this earth. 

“That sorry shit don’t work on me,” he said and grinned. “Now be a good little bitch and tell me you want this dick. And you want me to film it,” he said. 

A breath stuttered out of you. He was even better in person. “Don’t show my face,” you said. You borrowed boldness for tonight. If you survived to tomorrow, then that’s when you’d freak out. For now, you wanted the entire Tyrone experience. 

“Naw, this my personal stash. I wanna see that sexy ass face,” he said. He leaned over you and ran his thumb outside of your panties. You were leaking at the edges and his thumb glided so close to where you needed him. 

“Personal stash?” Maybe if you kept him talking, he’d give you a reprieve. You just needed a moment to think. To find a way out of five orgasms. 

“The ones I watch to get myself hard. The ones I cum to, thinkin’ of it when I’m balls deep in pussy online,” he said. 

Oh shit. “But–” your dry throat ached. It paled in comparison to the ache in your tummy. That deep, hidden place that few men actually hit. 

Tyrone slipped his thumb under your panties and crested the very outer area of your clit. You gasped and twitched, your legs couldn’t open wider because your shorts weren’t all the way off. He looked into your eyes. 

He licked your open mouth. “See, the game to porn? Focus on the woman. Always,” he said.

He increased his strokes until you were a shaking mess. You didn’t know you could make those types of sounds. But all of the tiny grunts and yips, turned to moans as you came from his finger circling your clit. He didn’t even touch it directly. 

He pulled his finger away and watched you jerk and twitch until you calmed down. He licked his thumb, made a surprised sound, and stood up. Your eyes tracked him as he stepped back and took off his black T-shirt. His jeans went next, his briefs tenting with his erection.

He stroked himself over his briefs and looked at you with his head crooked to the side. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped. He moved to the side of his room and there was the sound of devices getting moved around. You laid on the bed, your eyes back to the ceiling. 

This was really happening. You fought the urge to pinch yourself as Tyrone set up the camera. It had a retractable viewer and he flipped it around to the bed. You saw yourself lying there, staring at the camera.

Your pussy clenched at the thought. Tyrone had always been a man of his word. If this was his personal stash, he was the only one that would see you getting fucked. You wanted it so desperately, you leaned up on your elbows and started to remove your shorts.

“I say you can move yet?” He asked. 

You panted at his aggressive tone and shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Lay yo ass back down,” he said. You followed his command, laying back on the bed. Your body was floating this time. You felt every nerve in your body twitch up and await what Tyrone had in store. 

Tyrone puffed on the blunt as he finished setting up the camera. A moment later, he brought the camera closer and pointed it at your face. You blushed so hard that your cheeks burned from it. You knew they would be hot to the touch. 

“Smile for Daddy,” he said. 

You giggled and swiped at the camera. “Fuck you,” you said. 

Tyrone chuckled a little louder this time. He moved the camera down your body. “Take off the shirt first, nice and slow,” he said. 

You sat up and looked at him. Focus on him. That’s all you had to do. You’d make this the best damn video he can’t release. You took off your shirt, exposing your mismatched bra. That came next, slowly sliding it off your arms. You threw it at him and he caught it with one hand. 

He smirked from behind the camera and dropped your bra. He commanded that you stand up and take off your shorts. He told you to turn around and slightly bend over as you took off your panties. You stepped out of it and he groaned.

“Fuck, look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. 

You clenched and then clenched again knowing that he was picking it up on the camera. “Crawl on the bed, get on your back,” he said. 

You did as he told you. You climbed onto the bed and exaggerated yourself crawling to the top of his bed. You flipped over, dropping onto your back. “Get comfortable,” he told you.

You moved a few pillows over to cradle your head and back. You instantly felt better. You closed your eyes with a smile. Your knees were pressed together, still feeling that lingering shyness. 

Tyrone tapped your knees. “Open them up for me,” he said. Tyrone had the viewfinder half flipped between you. He had it focused on your knees. You hid your face behind your hands and shook your head. 

“C’mon, do what I say,” he said. 

You groaned but opened your legs. You threw your arm over your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “Open them pretty eyes and look at me,” he said. His tone, more than anything, made you open your eyes and stare at him. Tyrone was not the gentle type online. He barked and commanded and did nearly unspeaking things to women. Soft wasn’t in his vocabulary. 

“You know how sexy you are?” He asked. 

“Of course I do,” you said. Your sexiness didn’t depend on no man. Not even Tyrone. You knew you were fine as hell. You ain’t pull niggas for nothin’. But you were still fuckin’ shy. Damn. 

“Don’t hide it then,” he said. He climbed onto the bed and moved the camera beyond your head. You craned your neck to see him fix the viewfinder where he could see. There was a perfect angle of the length of your body, your legs spread open, and Tyrone hovering above you. 

Tyrone then kissed you, rolling his tongue all over yours. You don’t know how long he spent kissing you. It was long enough to make you relax for half a second. When he felt your body go slack, he added his hands. He lowered himself to your body and rested on his elbows. His hands, he ran them all over your chest. 

He massaged your breasts, rolling your nipple between his warm fingers. Each twist was just this side of painful. And you groaned. Your head flopped on the pillow as he nipped at your neck. 

You brought your hands up to grip onto his back. Your nails lightly scratched him. He groaned. He kissed down your neck, moving onto the top of your titties. “Oh, shit,” you moaned as his lips latched onto your left nipple. 

He sucked like he was mining for gold. He rolled his tongue over the budding peak. He ‘d stop and examine his handiwork, see if it was satisfactory, then return his attention to it. He licked a long strip down the center of your chest to your tummy. 

He paid careful attention to each stretch mark, each tiny scar from you being clumsy, and every mole. His hands worked their way down too. Squeezing your sides. The upper, fleshy part of your thighs. He reached around and gripped your ass, squeezing the globes. 

He continued downward, running his tongue through your pubic hair. He reached the very edge of your pussy and you squirmed away. A cold patch started inching its way under your ass. Your arousal was already flooding his bed. 

He flattened his tongue against your pussy lips and you bucked off of the bed. “Oh fuck, Tyrone!” You yelled. 

Your skin was itchy. You needed relief in the worst way. He chuckled and nosed his way through your folds. He swirled his tongue lazily around your clit.

“Did you know you taste good?” He murmured into your pussy. His lips caught your clit and part of your pussy lips. You made an unholy moan. 

“Could eat this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still want some,” he said. 

“Fuck,” you whined. Your pussy clenched thinking of a repeat with Tyrone. How else he could be so nasty. 

The wetness of his tongue made you wetter. He began to increase the flicks of his tongue against your clit. “Oh shit, right there, right there,” you begged.

Tyrone backed away at the last second and you growled. He chuckled and kissed your clit. “You think just ‘cuz you want it, you s’posed to have it?” He asked. 

“Please, please,” you said. 

“Mhm, I knew yo lyin’ ass was gon’ regret what you said.” 

“Or maybe I just wanna cum and I’ll say anything,” you said, goading him into proving you wrong. You’d gladly be wrong, many times over, if he kept eating you like that. 

“Guess, we goin’ for six then. Start counting,” he said. 

“What?” 

“And the first one ain’t count neither,” he said. 

“That’s cheating!” You yelled. 

He looked at you from between your legs. You had to sit up some to see his half lidded eyes. “I look like a nigga that play fair?” 

Your chest rose and fell and you looked at him. You shook your head. “No, but–what can I do to bring that number down?” You asked. 

“Not a mu’fuckin’ thing,” he said. He kept watching you as he descended on your pussy, running his lips up and down, licking up your arousal. He watched as he tried different things, trying to see what you reacted to most. When he did something you liked, he stopped and switched tactics. 

You tried not responding, quieting your moans but then he’d bit the sensitive spot between your pussy and your leg. You’d jerk, complain about the pain, and say, “Don’t give a fuck.” 

You were back to moaning uncontrollably. So out of your mind in bliss, that you barely noticed that he stuck a finger inside of you. He pumped you, his finger getting wetter on each slide. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you chanted. 

“Let Daddy hear you,” he said. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you continued. Each word ended on a shriek. Tyrone sucked and you came, with a loud moan. Your hands moved down your stomach, down your thighs, scratching underneath them. Your moves were jerky, flopping against the bed. You didn’t know what to do with your body as you came. 

When you were done, air whooshed across your heated, sweat-slick skin. Tyrone licked up whatever was left over, making you twitch from your sensitive clit. 

Tyrone kissed up one side of your thighs. He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. “One!” 

He then pushed your legs back, your thighs grazing the bedsheets. “This where I want ‘em. Keep ‘em there,” he said.

How the hell was he still in so much control? You were a ruined mess. You couldn’t survive any more. 

Tyrone had other plans. He trailed his fingers around your clit and you moaned. “I can’t,” you said.

“Aw, you wanna tap out?” He asked.

You nodded. Your eyes were closed. You weren’t strong enough for another orgasm. 

“Still don’t give a fuck,” he said. He leaned up and over you. His thighs pushed at yours, folding you. He leaned on his fist, his muscles bunching and contracting. A vein started near his elbow and ran down towards his hand. You longed to lick it, but his arm wasn’t close enough.

You resorted to rubbing his arm. He brought his other hand to cup your pussy. Then a finger disappeared inside you. “Oh shit!” You said and jerked.

He added a second finger and you twitched. Your moans were turning painful. Robbing the breath from your lungs. You’d gasp for any little molecule of air. And then seize up once more as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Mhmm,” Tyrone said.

“Nasty little bitch, ain’t you.” He added a third finger. 

“Ty, Ty,” you croaked out. 

“What? You need four?” He asked. He added a fourth finger and you rounded your eyes at him. As he pumped it into you, he turned his hand. Two fingers slipped out. The first two, he continued to pound into you. Then he crooked his fingers in a come hither motion and you exploded.

Your back lifted off of the bed as your orgasm steam rolled you. Your legs shook like mini earthquakes, each wave cascading through you like aftershocks. You reached for his chest, needed to feel something solid under your hands. He slapped your hand away and tilted his head at you. 

He grabbed your nipple and pulled and you shrieked. “Fuck,” you said. He arched his brow at you. “Two,” you said. 

You came down with tears gathering in your eyes. You sniffled as you shivered. Tyrone rubbed your arms, smirking at you. 

“Shit, may not need the camera. I’m gon’ remember this shit,” he said. 

You completely forgot about the camera. It turned you on that those orgasms were recorded. That he’d watch them again and again. 

He kissed your tummy, bringing your attention back. He kissed and suckled your skin. You watched it disappear into his mouth. You groaned when he started to hurt. He moved on to more patches of skin, kissing the underswell of your right titty. He caressed your hips and massaged your ass as he kissed his way to your neck. 

He bit your shoulder and then licked your neck. He placed kisses on your jaw and then kissed you. He licked the swell of your bottom lip. 

Your body relaxed into the feel of his lips on you. The weed still did its thing. Every kiss was its own inferno. Burning your skin and leaving no end in sight. 

Tyrone returned his attention to your neck, kissing along your ear. He licked the shell of your ear and lined up at your entrance. You didn’t even notice that he took off his briefs.

He slid in and you groaned. You brought your hand up to push at his chest. He stroked and coated his long dick with your juices. He moaned at the feeling of you. He threw his head back and you saw his neck swallowing. Tiny huffs escaped him.

“Goddamn, this pussy feels as good as it tastes,” he moaned. You clenched at his dirty words and he moaned again. 

“Wanna get fucked like a good little bitch?” He asked. 

“Yes! Yes, Daddy, please,” you begged, nodding your head. 

His strokes were long, languorous. His hands pinned your upper arms to the bed. “What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” 

He wanted you to speak? Speak when he had his third leg half inside of you? He wasn’t even fully seated yet. 

“Talk that shit now with dick in you,” he said. 

You opened your mouth, ready to say something. But then he slammed all the way home, hitting your G-spot and making you cum instantly. You shook on his dick, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your toes curled. The orgasm took all coherent thought. 

After, you sniffed as tears ran down your cheeks. Tyrone’s dick twitched, his eyes locked on your face. 

“Can get a nigga used to this. You cum so pretty,” he said. 

“Fuck, Tyrone. Please,” you whispered. He only smirked at you. He slapped his hand against your cheek. “Three,” you said with a cry. 

He moved his hand down your throat and squeezed. 

“Oh fuck,” you whispered. Tears fell in rivulets down your cheeks. You were past the point of feeling good in the afterglow of your orgasms. 

He kept up his slow strokes, making you feel every large vein sliding against your slick inner walls. “Put them legs where I want ‘em,” he commanded.

You lifted your aching thighs, putting your hands under to hold them open for him. “Please, Daddy.” 

“Please what? Ask nicely,” he said. 

He slowed down even more, almost to a torturous crawl. He wiggled his hips and his dick hit all the corners of your pussy. 

“Please, no more,” you said. 

“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he said. He wiggled his hips for emphasis. You whined and jerked on the bed. 

You didn’t want to punk out. But you truly couldn’t take another one. Still, one built up anyway. Tyrone chuckled at you, condescension poured out of him in waves. 

“You know I’m cummin’ in this shit right?” He groaned. He threw his head back and his hips twitched. 

You pictured him filling you up like a twinkie and your pussy clenched. “Like that? Want me to nut in you?” 

He squeezed your neck one last time. He moved his hand to your lower tummy and pushed down. You felt his dick from the other side, felt how deep he was inside of you. The tip of his dick kissed your G-spot. He kissed you, soft and nasty. “Talk yo shit then. Can’t talk with dick inside you?” 

Tears gave everything a watery haze. It streamed down your face. Tyrone licked up your tears and moaned low to your ear. “Gimme that nut then,” he said. 

On command, another orgasm rushed through you. Spots danced behind your eyelids. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Show me them pretty eyes,” he said. 

He smirked as you locked eyes with him. He angled his hips and your jaw dropped open. “Mhmm, I know. I know,” he said. 

As you were calming down, you muttered, “Four.” 

Tyrone slipped out of you and you drew your first real breath in what felt like hours. He leaned down between your legs, his mouth suckling on your clit. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck, Tyrone, Daddy. Please,” you moaned. 

“Open them fuckin’ legs,” he growled. You opened them wider, both your arms and legs were tired now. He brought his mouth back onto you and sucked roughly, dragging another orgasm out of you. Your eyes were permanently glued to the back of your head. Pleasure coursed through you, making your legs shake of their volition. Your soul left your body, your feet cramped. Sound exited your right ear and you felt this one in your eyes. 

You squirted and Tyrone leaned back. “Mhmm,” he encouraged. “Nasty fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He licked up your sopping mess. You continued to squirt, the pleasure still so intense. He leaned back and watched you cum, watched you squirt. 

“F-f-five,” you shook. Your teeth clattered and knocked against each other. 

“Look at you, bein’ a good little bitch,” he said. “You made Daddy wait for his nut though.” His voice turned sinister. 

He leaned up and slapped his dick against your clit. The wet slap turned you feral, and you cried for more. You begged for more. 

“Fill me up, Daddy,” you cried. Your fingers tore at your body. You wanted more even though you were ready to tap out. Ready to give it up. 

Tyrone chuckled as he slammed back in. “Oh fuck,” you cried and collapsed your legs. 

“Uh-uh, open them fuckin’ legs. Keep that shit open,” he said. 

You cried, tears long since dried up. He bottomed out and then rubbed your clit with his thumb. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.

“I know,” he said. 

He slid in and out, stroking deep. Deep enough to make you see stars. “Oh, fuck, Daddy,” your voice was high-pitched. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me,” you chanted.

“Im finna nut,” he moaned. “I’m finna nut, I’m finna nut.” Hearing his moans was like the spark you needed. You came again, gushing and soaking his dick. He threw his head back and unloaded inside of you. 

He kept going, kept fucking his cum into you. Hot splashes coated your pussy. You felt every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you. He emptied his balls into you and you moaned and scratched at his back. 

He slowed his deep strokes, stilling inside of you. 

“Good fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He slipped out of you, his cum leaking out behind him. He panted, his sweaty chest rising and falling almost painfully. 

“Oh,” you cooed and moaned. Your legs flopped onto the bed, instant relief from keeping them up so long. “Six,” you whispered. Your voice was hoarse. 

Tyrone kissed you. He breathed in your ear. “You ever have any more questions, you come let me know.” 

You were already gone to the world as he said whatever it was that he said. If you woke up in the morning, it’d be a miracle.

&&&

You okay? Need more? The Secret Tyrone Files

[introspectivememories]

what's wrong with data analyst bernard?

summary: tim's a workaholic ceo. bernard is, to put it simply, a down-on-his-luck loser with a kid to take care of. somewhere along the line, they meet. (very loosely based on the 2018 hit kdrama, "what's wrong with secretary kim?")

A/N: for @chamiryokuroi bc this fanart has given me brainrot since the moment i saw it. but also bc, i missed writing and your art helped. i hope you like it. (more notes at the end.) (AO3 LINK)

Today is a good day, Bernard thinks happily, brand new ID badge bouncing on his tie. It's his first day at Wayne Ent. and Mori had sent him off with a hug and muttered, "have a good day, Tou-san." It's been bouncing around in his head all day. Tou-san, Tou-san, Tou-san, he's really a dad now. He's got to make sure Mori has everything he needs and this new job is going to make sure he can do that.

Shaking his head once to clear it, he takes a sip of the complimentary coffee a team member bought him for his first day. His team leader, Young-joon Lee, is taking him on a tour of the building. Young-joon is a wonderful man in his late 30s but it's very clear that he's been consumed by the office lifestyle.

"...and here is our magnificent lobby!" Young-joon is saying as he tunes back in. His team leader spreads his arms wide out as he speaks, "Everyone knows the lobby but it's my personal philosophy that making friends or at least being on amicable terms with the ground floor staff will make your life easier."

Bernard laughs politely, "I know what you mean. I can't tell you how many times being nice to the host at the restaurant I used to work at saved my butt during rush hour."

"A man after my own heart!" Young-joon says, smiling widely as he leads him to the help desk.

Bernard tilts his head up to look at the skylight. It's a gorgeous thing with little animal motifs running alongside it. It lights up the lobby bringing a welcoming feeling into it. With the sunlight pouring into the room, along with the din of busy workers in slacks running to and fro, it really feels like stepping into a movie.

Are you seeing me Darls?, he thinks with a childlike glee, hand coming up to thumb at his badge again, I made it!

"This, my friend," Young-joon says, pulling up to the help-desk, "is our wonder-duo. Tamara and Abhishek. They practically run this building. Lord knows we'd be tripping all over ourselves without them."

Tamara and Abhishek smile as they get introduced.

"They run this building?" he asks confusedly.

"You see, young padawan," Abhishek says, "not only do we help the people that come in here asking questions or for instructions, we also answer any questions the staff has for us."

"Things like, 'What's HR’s number?' or 'Can you page Data for me?' or 'No seriously, I'm calling HR on this man right now. What is their number?'" Tamara says grinning.

Bernard laughs. It feels like that's all he's been doing since he got here. "You have to tell me the story on that one day."

"Sorry," Tamara says, faux-apologetic, "the minimum clearance on that story is half-a-year. Gotta level up."

His cheeks hurt from smiling. This is his and Mori's new beginning. This is where they level up. Nothing's gonna stop him now.

"Do you know the story behind that one?" he asks, turning to Young-joon.

"Of course! But where would be the fun in telling you? You have to stay the six months and if luck comes my way, longer."

"You want me for longer?"

"Of course, I saw the way you worked during those practice problems in the interview. I had to fight the other team leaders for you. It was brutal."

"Get back I say!" Young-joon says, miming a sword fight. A pleased warmth builds in his chest; they wanted him, they wanted him!

Darls you better be fucking watching this. I'm movin' up in the world.

"Ooh, send me that footage. I wanna see our newest recruits skills," Abhishek says.

"You got the data team fighting over you?" Tamara asks, eyebrows raised, "I wanna see it—"

Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the sound of both of their pagers pinging. Immediately going stock still, they start typing on their computers.

Bernard turns to Young-joon confused but his team leader looks like nothing is out of the ordinary.

"The boss is coming." Young-joon says, like that's a reasonable explanation for two people shutting down in the middle of the conversation, "It's always quite a spectacle and they always have to notify the other execs. Just watch."

Still, the boss? Maybe Bruce Wayne will say 'hi' to him and he'll charm the CEO and Mr. Wayne can figure out a way to—

No, no. He's done making those kinds of fantasies. Nobody is coming to help. Bernard is going to figure out his life on his own, he is going to take such good care of his kid, and he is not going to wait for some rich billionaire to swoop in and take care of him. He got this far didn't he? He'll get even farther.

He and his team leader lean against the help desk sipping coffee as they wait for the CEO to come in and sure enough, a black Rolls Royce pulls up to the driveway in the front. The minute the door opens, flashes from the paparazzi's cameras start going off. Out steps a bodyguard in a black suit with an umbrella opened. From below the umbrella he sees a nice pair of brown loafers step out. The CEO seems to be wearing a navy blue suit today. The paparazzi roars and the flashes increase.

"Oh wow," a man remarks a few feet away from him, "the circus is strong today, huh?" His friend laughs.

A woman wearing red heels steps out after the CEO, the paparazzi flashes decrease dramatically. More bodyguards exit after the woman and form a square around the CEO and his assistant/secretary. They shuffle towards the entrance where he sees the elderly doormen greet the executives with a smile. Whatever they say is lost to the sound of the city but the doormen laugh and push the doors open.

Young-joon's been making small talk throughout the entrance and Bernard tries to keep up but whatever the hell is going on at the entrance is way more interesting than anything his team leader is talking about. As they enter the guards spread out and dissolve the square. The woman comes into view first, red heels with a black slacks and a white button down. She's holding a long coat in one hand and a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She's gorgeous and clearly the one in charge, going by the way she barks orders at the guards.

Young-joon says something and he turns around to respond, grabbing his coffee cup off the desk counter. His CEO's loafers tap across the lobby's marble floor, something about it is comforting. A lull in the room's conversations causes the CEO's voice to carry over.

"...Tam, make sure the quarterly reports are on my desk by at least 4 today and make sure to push back the sales meeting by 30 minutes to an hour, the board wants to talk — Oh Mr. Bardakcı! Thank you for stay—..."

Bernard's heart jackrabbits in his chest. He knows that voice but- it can't be. It's not possible; he chose Wayne Enterprises for a reason. He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be at his father's company. Unless... there was a merger? No, that seems like the kind of thing the news wouldn't've shut up about. He would've known.

When was the last time you had time to sit down and read the news, Bear? Darls says inside his head

She's right. With filing for custody of Mori and graduating from college and the job search, he hasn't had time for much else. It's entirely possible that he could've missed one of the biggest mergers of the decade.

Fuck, Fuck.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Bernard was supposed to be moving on. He was supposed to be building a life for himself away from the shadows of his childhood. He was supposed to be forgetting that Tim Drake ever existed.

He has to make sure though. Turning his body around, he prays that it's not the man he thinks it is. But sure enough, there stands Tim Drake, resplendent in a navy blue suit and a golden tie.

Golden ties for golden boys, he thinks absentmindedly.

The suit fits him perfectly, stretching across his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. Even the tie looks knotted perfectly. How long did it take him to learn, Bernard wonders. He could never get it right back in high school. Does his assistant Tam do it- no, no! This is why he didn't apply to Drake Industries. Bernard can't do anything around Tim and Tim is never going to care enough about him to stay.

Tim's head seems to be turning in his direction and Bernard whips his head back to make sure Tim doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him. His hand twitches violently enough that the coffee cup falls out of his hand and spills all over the floor. The cup rattles deafeningly on the floor. Bernard can't fucking breathe.

"-ernard? Bernard!" his team leader's voice cuts through the haze in his head. Young-joon looks concerned, "Are you okay?"

He blinks slowly, "...What?"

"I said, 'Are you okay?’ You look like you've seen a ghost?"

No, Bernard thinks, seeing Darls would be preferable to whatever level of hell I've found myself in.

"I'm—, I'm fine." he says rather unconvincingly. His eyes dart back to the spill, "What am I saying? There's a large puddle of coffee on the floor. I—, I should get some paper towels for that."

"Do you have any paper towels, Wonder-Duo?" he asks, trying desperately to ignore Tamara and Abhishek's concerned looks.

"I already called the custodial staff," Tamara says slowly, like she’s trying not to spook him, "but if it makes you feel any better," she pulls out a huge stack of paper towels, "go crazy, I guess."

Bernard takes a handful of paper towels and gets to work. The cleaning is meditative and with each swipe of the paper towel, the puddle gets smaller. Bernard pretends the puddle is his feelings for Tim. Swipe, forget about the 4pm milkshakes and his laughter when Darls snorted milk out of her nose. Swipe, don't think about the way he used to smell. Swipe, he left and never looked back; you don't look back either.

The tap, tap, tap of loafer on marble is getting closer to them for some reason. Why is it getting closer? Does it not have staff meetings, market research, and people to leave behind?

"What is going on here?" Tim asks.

"Nothing much, sir." Abhishek responds, "Newbie just spilled some coffee."

Abhishek, no!

"Oh is that all? And he took the initiative to start cleaning instead of waiting for the custodial staff. You made a good choice, Young-joon."

"Thank you, sir!" Young-joon says, "I was taking him on the tour when you came in. Most newbies love the show so I thought we'd stop here for a little bit."

Tim laughs. Bernard hates that his heart still skips a beat at the sound.

A pair of brown loafers and a wool-covered knee slowly appear in his vision. Why is Tim crouching in front of him? Why won't this man leave him alone?

"This looks like quite a lot of work, let me help."

You can help by leaving me the hell alone, he thinks uncharitably.

"I hope you found the facilities to your liking," Tim continues, like he hadn't heard Bernard's thoughts, "My name is Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO."

I know, he wants to say. I know you're Tim Drake. I know you like to skateboard and that you stared at Tony Hawk's photo for an hour every day in high school ‘cause didn't want to be one of those people who didn't recognize him. I know you struggled with your dad not really being there. I know you loved Mrs. Winters as much as you loved your mom. I know that you like history more than any other subject even though your best was always math.

Bernard says nothing instead.

Tim laughs awkwardly and Bernard knows he isn't helping the conversation along but whatever, he's allowed to be petty, right?

"I assure you, whatever you heard in the tabloids and the news, isn't true. I promise I won't bite…," Tim’s voice trails off as Bernard lifts his head.

"...Bernard?" Tim whispers, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

Bernard tries for a smile, he's pretty sure it comes out looking like a grimace.

"Sir," he says nodding curtly, hands still moving to sweep up the coffee puddle.

Tim's hand reaches out to touch his face, as if to make sure Bernard is really there. Bernard recoils as Tim's hand grazes his cheek. Tim's hand hangs in the air uselessly.

"Bernard?" Tim says again, as if to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him.

"That's my name, Sir," he says through clenched teeth, "don't wear it out."

He can feel Young-joon and the Wonder-Duo's confused stare but he says nothing. What would he even say, really?

Hey, this is my old friend Tim Drake? Hey, I used to know him like the back of my hand? Hey, our best friend died and it feels like I'm the only one still grieving? Hey, in my junior year, five different gangs shot up my school and my best friend died in my arms and he left and I had to pick up the pieces by myself? Hey, I'm the idiot that's still in love with Tim Drake?

The clack of Tam's heels comes as a welcome distraction.

"Tim!" she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, "What the hell do you think you're doing? We have to go talk to the board. Build rapport with your employees later."

Tim stumbles to his feet, "Yes, but—, I—, This is—"

He sounds like he's glitching. Bastard. Is it really such a surprise to see Bernard in a well paying job? Even Tam is starting to look a little concerned now.

"Explain later," she commands, dragging Tim behind her. Bernard keeps his head down and continues wiping up the coffee puddle. Sneaking a glance upward shows him that Tim keeps turning back around to stare at him.

For a moment their eyes meet, brown against blue. 'Bernard?' he sees Tim mouth. Bastard, saying his name so many times. Doesn't he know what that does to Bernard? Why does Tim insist on breaking his heart again and again and again? Was once not enough?

He's tired of putting these walls up and just for a second, he lets them come down. Let Tim see the entirety of his brokenness. Tim already has his heart, he can have this too.

'Tim' he mouths back, smiling sadly. Tim looks stunned and the rage that had been simmering in his gut begins to boil over.

Do you see what I've become? Do you see how thoroughly Grieves ruined me? Is this not your doing too? Why did you leave? Have you ever visited Darla? Why was it so easy for you to not look back? Was I not your friend? Or was it just a time pass? Why wasn't I enough for you to stay?

He watches until the elevator doors close, separating him from Tim once again. His body sags like a marionette cut from its strings and his fingers clench uselessly around the coffee soaked paper towels. A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches.

"Hey, hey," Young-joon soothes from where he's crouched right next to him. When did Young-joon crouch down? How much time has he missed? "It's just me, Bernard. Are you okay? What was that? Does our CEO know you?"

He exhales shakily. He needs to get out of here. He needs to sob hard enough he throws up. He needs the steady press of a knife on his back. He needs things he's not allowed to have anymore.

Bernard shoots up so fast the world spins around him. holding onto the desk for support, he tries to smile at his team leader. It stretches across his face misshapenly.

"I'm—, I'm sorry," he says stumbling over his words in a rush to get them out, "I have to—"

He has to what? Pretend to not see Darls out of the corner of his eye? Pretend like his hands don't have blood on them? Pretend like he isn't seeing bullet wounds every time he closes his eyes?

"—go to the bathroom," he finishes lamely. Gathering up all of the paper towels, he walks away dazedly, ignoring Young-joon's calls behind him. He shoves the towels in the nearest trashcan, letting his feet lead him to the nearest bathroom.

The bathroom is thankfully empty when he enters and he locks the door behind him. Sliding down the door, he exhales shakily. There's not enough air in this room; he can't breathe. The fluorescent lights hum above their coverings. The one on the left flickers. Who's bright idea was it to install school lights in a business office's bathroom?

The world outside the bathroom rushes on too loudly. Somebody is talking about their vacation. Someone is bemoaning their presentation today. His chest is getting tighter. His hands come up to tug on his hair. Why can't he breathe?

The exhales are coming quicker and quicker. Something comes tapping down the hallway. It's the gunmen, it has to be. A quick glance down tells him all he needs to know: he's covered in blood.

It's Lila's, he thinks dazedly, I had to carry her into the office. Or no, it's Olu's. I held him when he died. He said, he said, what did he say?

Why can't he remember? He hits his head with the heel of his palm.

Think he tells himself, we have to tell Olu's parents what he said. He said—, he said—.

His body sags.

Oh now he remembers. He said, "I don't wanna die Bernard."

A whimper tears itself out of his throat and he slaps a palm over his mouth. There's blood smeared across his face now, he must look like he walked out of a slasher film. He has to be quiet. if he's too loud, the gunmen will find them and then they'll all be dead.

Cry quietly, he tells himself, Darls doesn't need—

Darla! How could he forget about Darla with a hole in her gut? He needs to get to her. Lurching forward, he scrabbles across Mrs. Castillo's linoleum floor. He's smearing Olu's blood everywhere. Why won't Nikhil stop fucking crying so loudly? Goddamn freshmen and their hysterics. Where is Tim? Is he safe? He can't lose both friends today, please Lord, please.

BANG!

A violent flinch tears through his body. He sobs audibly this time, gagging on his spit. It's the gunmen, it has to be. He hasn't even held Darls' hand or counted Tim's moles for the last time. Where are the Darls? She shouldn't be alone. She doesn't like violence like this.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" a voice asks from behind him.

He freezes. Slowly he turns around and nearly yells in shock. Falling back on his butt, he stares up at his friend.

(He has to be quiet, he has to be quiet, he has to be quiet-)

Darls is standing behind him still in her crop top and cargo pants. Her once smooth midsection, bloodied and warped. The bullet wound still drips blood.

Plink, plink, plink.

Bernard hates the scent of iron.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" she asks, her voice echoing, "I thought we were friends."

There’s blood dripping down the side of her mouth. Now he remembers, the blood on him isn’t Olu’s or Lila’s — although there is that too — it’s almost overwhelmingly Darla’s. He’s covered in it. Elbows deep in it. It streaks up his arms like a macabre tattoo. He wore a white shirt to school today. The stains will never come out. He is Carrie at the end of prom, mortified and humiliated.

He crawls backwards until his back hits the wall, the impact knocking him out of the worst of that night. He's back in the bathroom. The lights hum loudly overhead. Darla hasn’t left yet.

She tilts her head, “Why didn’t you help me, Bear? I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” he rasps out, “we are friends.”

“Are we?” her eyes have no pupils. His Darls had eyes that shone in the sunlight. His Darls is dead. “Then why am I still bleeding? Why am I still hurting? Why is there a bullet in my stomach, Bear?!”

She’s shouting by the end and he flinches. His hands can’t seem to stop tugging at his hair. The blood must’ve smeared all over it. Talk about taking strawberry blond literally.

“I swear I did everything I could Darls,” he sobs out quietly, voice cracking, “I followed all of Mrs. Castillo’s instructions as best I could. I put pressure and tied the dressing as tight as I could.”

“You thought that was enough?” she snarls, hands coming down to grip the wound. It twists grotesquely; he gags, “You think any of that matters when I’m dead and you’re still alive?”

“Please, please. You know I wouldn’t leave you to die, Darls. Please, please, please believe me.”

“Liar, liar!” she screams, blood dripping out of her mouth onto her pink LOVE shirt. It darkens as each drop hits it. Soon it’ll be completely drenched and she’ll be drowning in it. Where did his smiling friend go? “I’m dead, Bear! I’m dead, dead, dead and it’s all your fault! Why didn’t you save me?! Why didn’t you save me?!”

He keens, body curling in on itself. One hand goes down to press on his throat; he’s making too much noise. Nikhil’s just a freshman. He shouldn’t have to die just because Bernard couldn’t shut up for once in his life.

“Please,” he whispers raggedly, “I tried, I tried. I swear I tried, Darls.”

“It hurts, Bear,” she sobs. Darla’s too young to be sounding so wrecked, “It hurts so much. Please help me.”

All of sudden, it’s too much. The taste of iron sits heavy on his tongue and Darla won’t stop sobbing. His fingers fumble for his phone and he presses one. It rings once, twice and finally on the third ring does a voice answer.

“Bear?” the other side says groggily.

“Ty please, I can't do this anymore,“ he sobs.

Tyrone suddenly sounds a lot more alert, “Bear what’s going on?”

“Darla won’t stop crying and she keeps on screaming that it’s my fault she died.” he wails, “I know I should’ve done more but please, can you tell her I tried? That I stayed with her until the end? She won’t listen to me, Ty. She won’t listen to me.”

There’s a muffled yell of ‘Babe!” on the other end. “Yeah,” Ty breathes out, “I’ll tell her.”

“You put me on speaker, okay?” Ty instructs, “And you gotta tell me if she’s nodding or if she’s gone or if she said anything, alright? I can’t see her.”

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling the phone away from his ear to press the speaker button.

“You tell me when to start, Bear,” he says, voice filling the bathroom. Darla looks up from where she’s sobbing.

“You can start now Ty,” he rasps out, holding the phone out.

“Hey Darla,” Ty says, “Bear told me you said a lotta mean things about him. Stuff like, ‘he’s the reason you died’ and that ‘he never cared’. Darla, you gotta believe me when I say Bear never stopped caring. He held your hand the whole way through. Told you stories about all the things you two were gonna do once you got out of that nurse’s office. He tried, Darla, honest. I’ve never seen him as focused as when you stopped breathing and Mrs. Castillo had him give you CPR. He couldn’t stop sobbing the whole time.”

“But I’m still dead,” she says.

“But I’m still dead,” he repeats.

Ty inhales sharply, “Yeah,” he says thickly, “you are. And I’ll never stop being sorry about that. But you can’t take that out on Bear. He’s just trying to live his life.”

Darls’ face twists up like a childs, “But it hurts,” she cries.

“But—, but it hurts,” he repeats, voice hitching.

Ty curses, “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. Babe, can you—?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Hey, Darla. It’s me, Jimmy from the football team. I don’t know if you remember me but I remember you. After high school, me and Tyrone ended up getting married. Somewhere between shitty weed brownies and bad college parties, we fell in love. Isn’t that nice?”

Darls nods; he tells them as such.

“We visited you after the ceremony. I hope you felt that wherever you are these days. But the point I’m trying to make is that from all I’ve told you just now, you can probably figure out that Ty and I didn’t go pro like we planned. The shooting fucked up Ty’s knee and and my arm. After the hospital stays, playing football for a whole bunch of people just didn’t sound appealing anymore. We’re high school teachers now. Ty teaches math and I teach gym. When it rains or gets cold, my arm and Ty’s knee hurts like hell. But Darla, it doesn't hurt forever. It gets better, I promise.”

“Darla,” Jimmy says, voice unusually serious, “you’re right, you are dead and it does hurt. I’m sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away for you; I’m not too much of an expert on the supernatural. Ty’s the smart one, after all. But I love you, Ty loves you, Bear loves you. I hope that when it hurts the most you can use that as a balm.”

“Auntie Bea loves you too!” Ty’s mom hollers from the background, “Aunt Betty, too!”

Ty laughs wetly and Jimmy snorts, “Does that sound okay?” they ask.

Darls smiles, her teeth stained red from all the blood that built up in her mouth. Bernard misses her with an ache he feels in his bones. Darls nods.

“She nodded,” he says quietly. He blinks once and she’s gone. Where did she go? Doesn’t she know that the gunmen are still at large? She needs to be somewhere safe. He can’t lose a friend today.

“Bear, Bear, you gotta breathe. Take a deep breath for me, c’mon,” Jimmy says.

“She’s gone, Jim. She’s gone again. Why does she keep leaving?” he says, crying. His body can’t stop trembling. How long has he been here? How much time has he missed?

“I miss the cult,” he whispers, “I never had things like this happen when I was with them.”

“Yeah,” Ty snaps, “‘Cause you were high off of like 50 different pain meds ‘cause you let them whip you.”

“Ty, not helping.”

“Move over, let me talk to him."

"Hey, sweetheart," Auntie Bea's voice crackles through his tiny speaker, "I know you're tired and I know you're hurting. I know you miss the cult but you gotta breathe for me, okay? You're gonna pass out otherwise."

"I can't, I can't," he gasps out. 

"Sure you can, you just gotta tell me five things you can see. Can you list those five things for me?"

Bernard desperately tries to get his breathing under control, "The sink is dirty."

"Good, good. Anything else?" 

"The tiles need to be re-grouted."

Aunt Betty barks out a laugh. Bernard's lips twitch upward.

"Keep going."

"My pants, my white shirt, my ID badge," he rattles off.

They talk him through the rest of the grounding techniques and by the time he feels like he's in control again, he's exhausted. His eyes hurt and his throat is dry. 

"Can you tell us why you spiraled so hard, Bear? This hasn't happened in a long time," Jimmy asks.

"I spoke to Tim again," he says simply. He pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to the sink. Setting the phone down on the counter, he grips the sink with both hands and just breathes. The Bernard in the mirror looks like he just came out of a warzone, eyes haunted, hair messed up. 

"Oh fuck," Ty says, "Where did you even meet him?"

"At my new job at Wayne Ent."

"Why would you apply there?" Jimmy asks, stressed.

"I didn't know! It's not like I've had a lotta time in the past few years to check the news!"

"Well, whatever, what’s done is done." Ty says, ever practical, "Are you going to quit?"

"No!” he says vehemently.

“No,” he repeats quieter, “Wayne has the best benefits and Mori needs that. I’ll just suck it up and try to avoid him.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Aunt Betty says.

“Ma!”

“Oh be quiet Jimmy. I’ve never heard of a more stupider thing. He’s your CEO, Bear, and he knows you work there. He’s obviously going to want ‘to catch up’ or whatever. There is no avoiding him. Can you handle that?”

What can he say? Aunt Betty is right. He can’t handle talking to Tim. Even seeing Tim felt like touching a live wire. He can’t deal with another episode. Mori doesn’t need him to be fucked up, Mori needs him to be the stable adult he promised the courts he was. 

“You can’t, sweetheart,” she says softly, “you can’t handle it.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the phone. 

“Bear,” Ty says gently, “I love you, man. You’re my brother. Jimmy loves you, Mama loves you, Aunt Betty loves you. But you gotta start thinking about therapy.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t’ve dragged you into this. I’m—”

Ty cuts him off with an exasperated huff, “It’s not about that Bear. I’ll keep talking to your hallucinations for as long as you need me too. Even when we’re seventy, I’ll do it for you. I don’t care about that. I care about you and I want you to be happy and healthy. I don’t want you to keep seeing Darla. I don’t want you to keep trying to scrub the blood off your hands. 

“And I know you’ve been avoiding therapy ‘cause you don��t got the money and ‘cause talking about your problems is scary but it’s not just you anymore. You got Mori now. That custody claim is going through. You can’t just avoid things ‘cause they’re hard now. You work at Wayne now; that paycheck is more than enough to set a few dollars aside each month to save up for therapy. Hell, mental health probably comes with your medical benefits. Please, Bear. If you can’t get help for you, then do it for us, for Mori. Please stop making us watch you hurt.”

Bernard exhales shakily.

“I never wanna find you the way we did after the cult, Bear. I never wanna see you in the hospital bed like that again. Please don’t do that to us, please,” Ty whispers.

Unconsciously, his hand comes up to rub at the scar left behind from the sacrifice. It stretches along the length of his sternum, jagged and rough. On good days, he can pretend that it’s a scar from a heart surgery. He doesn’t have that many good days.

Bernard presses the heel of his palms into his eyes before using his hands to scrub at his face. He’s always so tired these days.

“Okay,” he says simply, “okay.”

“Okay?” Ty asks hopefully.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s not just me anymore. Mori deserves the best and I’m gonna give it to him. And I love Tim, I think I’ll always love Tim but he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. So I gotta make my peace with it or I’ll go crazy.”

Ty whoops, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chants.

“Bear, it’s still the middle of the workday,” Jimmy says, although he too, sounds happy. Auntie Bea and Betty are muttering about a feast, he thinks. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“Yeah, that’s if I’m not fired already,” he mutters.

“Hey!” Jimmy admonishes, “Optimism only, no pessimism.”

“Alright, alright. I gotta get back to work now. Thanks guys.”

“Of course, we’ll let you go now. Ma wants me to tell you that we’re having dinner at your place today.”

“Aunt Betty,” he whines, “I haven’t cleaned and you and Auntie Bea are just looking for a reason to spoil Mori.”

“Absolutely,” they say, unashamed, “he’s our only grandson. We have to spoil him.”

“Fine,” he sighs but he’s smiling. Fuck, he loves these people. God knows he wouldn’t have survived the past six years without them.

“Bye Bear,” they say before he hangs up, “Good luck on your first day!”

He cuts the phone and slides it back into his pocket. Turning on the tap, he splashes some cold water onto his face. Using his wet hands, he tries to rearrange his mussed up hair into something acceptable for an office job.

Time to face the music Darls, he tells her smiling face in the mirror. She gives him a thumbs up in return.

The walk back to his office feels like a death sentence. He’s fucked this up, he knows it. Freaking out over a small interaction with his CEO and then running away only to come back two hours later? It’s over, done for. Bernard takes comfort in the fact that at least the severance package will be nice.

Stepping into the office, immediately draws the eyes of his team members. Every step towards his team leader’s office feels nerve-wracking. Just before he enters, Esperanza, the team’s second in command, stops him.

“Whatever happened,” she says, “just explain it to him. Young-joon’s a reasonable man, he’s not gonna yell at you.”

Some of the tension leaves him and he nods. Knocking on the door, he enters. His team leader looks up and smiles.

“Ah, Bernard! Why don’t you take a seat for me?”

He crosses his wrists behind his back, “I’d rather stand, sir.”

His team leader looks confused, “‘Sir’? Just call me Young-joon like I told you.”

“Anyway, after you left, I took the liberty of going through your file to see if there was anything I missed. I hope that wasn’t overstepping my boundaries.”

“No s-, Young-joon. You’re fine.”

Young-joon sighs and pushes the file he was reading before Bernard came in forward. It’s his file. 

“I’m going to say some statements,” he says, “and I want you to confirm whether it’s true or not. If any of these questions make you uncomfortable, just tell me okay? I’ll drop it immediately.”

Bernard nods.

“You went to Louis E. Grieves Memorial High School.”

“Yes.”

“Based on the dates you put in your file, you were there for the shooting.”

“...Yes. Junior year.”

“You know our CEO.”

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“How?”

He used to fall asleep on my shoulder during lunch and I would listen to him breathe. He’s got moles all over his face. Darls once connected them with a sharpie. His step-mom was so hot, I thought I’d spontaneously combust every time she smiled. HIs dad didn’t really like me and flirting with his wife didn’t help my case. The Drake condo had a crocheted flower blanket on the sofa that his mom had made during her pregnancy. He liked to skateboard but couldn’t roller-blade to save his life. I have all this love and nowhere to put it.

“It’s a little private,” he says instead.

“I’m only asking because we work quite closely with him. We see him often and if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can have you transferred to another team.”

His shoulders sag, “We went to Grieves together for one year. Our mutual friend died. It’s a little hard to look at him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Young-joon says, “Okay well the offer is still on the table, Bernard. Do you want to be transferred?”

“No, I like your team. I’d like to stay,” he says, firmly.

“Are you sure?” Youn-joon asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” and it’s like a switch had flipped. Gone is his serious team leader and in its place is the man he met this morning.

“If you plan on staying,” he says smiling, “then my primary recommendation is that you use the medical benefits the company gives you to find a therapist. If you need help, the infirmary here will walk you through it.” 

Oh thank god it comes included with his medical, Ty will be overjoyed to hear that. But first, he has to ask Young-joon why he’s doing all this. Bernard knows his experience with authority figures is a little skewed towards the shitty side of the spectrum but even so, people usually aren’t so kind in his experience.

“Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you fire me? Why are you helping me?”

Young-joon chuckles, “Do you want to be fired?”

“No! But still, why are you helping me?”

Young-joon sighs and stands up. Walking around his desk, he stops right in front of Bernard. Young-joon puts a hand on his shoulder.

“This city takes a lot out of its people, believe me I know. And you were so young, when Gotham took her piece of you. It wasn’t fair of you to go through that. Just like it wasn’t fair to me and my wife when we got kidnapped as children. These kinds of things don’t go away. I still get worked up over zip-ties. My wife still has nightmares. All you can do is learn to live with it.

“You seem like a good kid with a good head on your shoulders. I’d hate to see all that potential go to waste ‘cause you kept getting trapped in your mind. I had a lot of help to get to where and who I am today. Consider this, me paying it forward. One day, I hope you can pay it forward too.”

His eyes feel suspiciously wet. “Thank you,” he chokes out, “thank you.”

Young-joon laughs, “There’s no need for the waterworks, Bernard. Now, pack up your things and go home. You’re in no state to analyze data today but I expect you here at 9AM sharp tomorrow, alright?”

Bernard mock salutes, “Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Bernard.”

Right before he exits, he turns around and calls out his team leader’s name.

“Young-joon,” Young-joon looks up confused, “you can call me Bear, by the way.”

A wide grin stretches across his team leader’s face, “Okay then. Goodbye Bear, see you tomorrow.”

Walking out of the office, it feels like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders. Esperanza takes one look at him and snorts.

“You just got Young-joon-ed, huh?”

His jaw drops, “He does that often enough you guys have a name for it?”

The other team members laugh, “Welcome to Data Analysis Team 1, kiddo. We look forward to working with you from now on.”

Smiling, he gathers his things and leaves after a few goodbyes. Once outside the building, the smile drops. It’s an hour-and-a-half bus ride from Wayne Tower to his house. The bus stop sits right in front of the tower too. Some new initiative by the mayor to promote the city moving towards green energy. Hey look, even rich people take the bus! What a fucking joke.

The tower warps the sunlight around it and he stares up at the top floor. Is Tim watching? Can Tim see him from up there? Does he care or was it just the shock of seeing someone he once knew this morning? Has Tim ever thought about him, about them? Or were they just moments in his life? Perpendicular lines, intersecting once and then never again.

I miss you, he thinks staring at the top floor, I miss you more than anything but I’ll walk into oncoming traffic before I ever reach for you again.

The bus pulls up next to him and he snags a seat in the back. Dropping his head onto the seat in front of him, he stares out the window. Darls smiles back at him in the window reflection, perpetually sixteen. He’s twenty-two now.

Fuckin’ hell Darls, he thinks wearily, we’re really in it now.

Darls places her hand against the glass, he leans his shoulder onto it. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her warmth.

We’ll make it through, she says.

The bus rumbles forward and he lets the cracked streets of Gotham lull him to sleep. He’ll make it through.

A/N: chami! i hope you like it!!! i've never gifted a fic before, i don't really know how this works. and to everyone who read it, i hope you liked it too! please leave your thoughts in the reblogs or replies!!! i miss the days when td:r was coming out and we were all collectively freaking out. anyway when i said loosely based, i really did mean loosely. props to you guys if you can figure out the direct references to the drama. but this is a one-shot. i'm not gonna be writing anything else for this 'verse? au? (god i'm always so worried im using em dashes wrong)

if you have questions or you're confused by something i wrote, feel free to ask questions or send an ask or message. oh, and i know some people like know the exact wordcount. so, it's exactly 6,785 words long. nice number right?

also, please note that if you want to make art or a podfic or hell, even fanfiction of this, feel free to do so! i hope that's not too presumptuous or anything. idk i see fanfic writers make this disclaimer all the time, so i thought i'd do it to.

thank you for reading!

[firstelevens]

and also for the fake fic title game, because I’m SHOCKED you didn’t send it me: “tell me honey, what’s a dagger without a cloak?” for whatever pairing/fandom amuses you 😇

A little Ty/Tandy canon divergence, with sincere apologies to the anon who I scared into thinking that I was writing fic about their state government.

Tyrone Johnson is elected to the Louisiana State Senate at just 24 years old, more than capable of carrying all the bright promise of tomorrow that's been heaped on his shoulders. He's been putting in the work for as long as he can remember, driven to be the best version of himself in the wake of a near-tragedy in his childhood. He's a survivor of the Mardi Gras Panic of 2017, a dedicated public servant, and a loving son and brother. He's achieved the outlandish goal he'd set for himself somewhere around age 15, and now he finally gets to devote himself to making real change in his home state. It's everything he hoped it'd be.

Except.

He keeps having these dreams, recurring ones, of this blond haired girl with a scar on her left arm that matches the one on his. Sometimes she's arguing with him in what looks like a church, but other times she's holding his hand, surrounded by blinding white light and wisps of black smoke. The other day he swears he saw her dressed like a ballerina and swinging around a sword that was made of light.

They've never been anything less than vivid, never felt anything but real, but Ty knows better than to let it throw him off. He's sure he's never spoken to the girl he sees in his dreams, but he's been working with the public his entire life. Who's to say she's not just a person he saw at a campaign event or in a lecture hall sometime, whose face got stuck in his head?

Ty tries to put it out of his mind and focuses instead on his move to Baton Rouge. It doesn't come up again until the day that he'll be attending his very first hearing as a member of the Environmental Quality Committee. He doubles back to the coffee cart to get some extra napkins and narrowly avoids colliding with someone who's clearly in a rush. He steps out of her space and apologizes, and when she looks up at him, he feels himself freeze.

It's the girl from his dreams, he realizes.

It's the girl from his dreams, and the shock on her face isn't pain or frustration or surprise.

It's recognition.

send me a fake fic title and I'll write you a summary

[henneseyhoe]

Now I KNOW that you didn’t write Still mine with the intent of being a one shot. That is a three chapter story AT LEAST cause gurl I need DETAILS!!! how did they meet?

do they ever reconcile?

What does Tyrone try doing to get reader back?

what’s their co-parenting dynamic?

what happens if the reader actually gets into a relationship with someone who isn’t afraid of tyrone???

the possibilities are ENDLESS

If I write another part it’s gon be the pettiest shit yall will ever read 😩 them two got the type of beef that would carry on into middle age LMFAOAOAO

[eggnox]

What to read of the Tyrone Files! (and why)

Sunshine - “He leaned down and kissed you. “My name sounds pretty on your lips. Say it again.””

Sunshine is a CLASSIC for me. It’s one of my first reads and is my favorite trope. Shy/Smart girl x Thug. Is this me projecting? Yes 🤨 And what about it? But yes this is an always favorite! Also love the acceptance of the use of the word “bitch”. Cause I hate men calling girls bitches much as anyone else… till we in bed 😪

STAY WITH ME - “He nibbled on your love handles, squeezing your flesh so he could take a big bite. You slapped his shoulder and he laughed. “That shit hurt!” “

I love this fic something AWFUL! I related to readers character a lil TEW much. Plus the energy between the friends to fuckers was delectable. And I am obsessed with love handles mention 😫😫

Break Me - “ “I can’t ruin what never was. I’m a grown ass man. I can handle rejection,” he said. His thumbs rubbed against your nipples and you fought off a shiver. ”

Break Me, Break Me, Break Me. Ain’t nun to say bout this except that it did in fact Break Me 🤷‍♀️

This is one of my favorites because it was so visual! I can’t describe to you what it felt like reading this for the first time! It was so strangely visceral in my imagination. It literally felt like I was watching a movie. And that’s how I see anything I read! But there was just something more when I read this.

IF YOU PLEASE - “Along that thought, he can’t help (an youn stop him) but spread ya cheeks a bit, just ta peek at ya folds, only ta see em all gushy an shit.”

This here a lil Drabble a fellow fan wrote and Ms.Megamindsecretlair added onto. This here Had. Me. Wet. I never considered the power of the message till I read this. Now I need this in my day to day life or I just won’t go on living.

BedRock - “ Tyrone grinned at you, showing off those elongated fangs, as he finally began to take off his pants. Fontaine slipped two fingers into you all the way to the knuckle and you cried out, gripping his fingers. “

(TMI) My nipples were tingling literally just look for a line. And that NEVER happens!! Doesn’t help I’m a *whore for vampires. Let alone TWO! And they both look like John Boyega?? Bitch please.

This is death by Orgasm.

Sit Back and Unwind - “ “You were just gonna sit here like this and not tell me?” He asked, his lips still pressed against yours. “

Now this is another classic, one of the first fics I ever read, and also one of my very visual fics. Like Break Me, it felt like I was really chilling with Tyrone oiling his scalp. I could feel the static in the air just reading it. Defo recommend!!!

Have Mercy - “ “You wanna know what it’s like to be fucked by me, don’t you?” He asked. He kissed up to your ear and laughed. “I know what desire look like. I eat that shit for breakfast,” he said.”

Nvm. THIS is death by orgasm. (Just read the fic) I don’t know what slut requested this (😏) but by God was there a delivery. The light kiss between reader and Tyrone is forever one of the best features of Ms.Megamindsecretlair’s work!!! I get a lil blush in my checks everytime I read it!! Also!! This is one of the fics that shows Tyrone’s rougher side. And that is ALWAYS appreciated.

@megamindsecretlair @chaos-4baby

[potato-pencil]

International Superspy: A Backyardigans fic

The cold metal of the pistol pressed against his back, digging deeper and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. Adrenaline surged through his veins as the familiar routine began, but he didn’t budge. He had committed the script to memory by now: a dark alley, a creeping figure, a crowded pub, and countless whispered secrets and repressed desires. This was London at night—or at least, London for Agent Secret. He swirled his drink, letting his eyes drift over the many faces in the room, each one with a story, yet he was only interested in the figure behind him. He sipped his drink one last time before turning his gaze to the mirrored wall in front of him, revealing the owner of the pistol he was being forcefully acquainted with. A coy smile formed on his face—tonight, he wasn’t on a regular mission; tonight, he was called to action.

“Agent Secret,” the figure whispered, their breath fanning his ear as they moved to sit on the empty stool, the pistol never leaving its spot on his back.

“Lady Pink,” he greeted solemnly, acknowledging the obnoxiously pink hood that encompassed the woman now beside him, accompanied by her usual scent of roses. “We keep meeting under the most unfortunate circumstances, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You have only yourself to blame for that, agent,” she teased, her voice laced with a playful edge as her eyes roamed his body, searching for what he could only assume was the purpose of her appearance—the flash drive he currently held. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you,” she said, her gaze snapping back to his, her intense eyes holding him in place, aside from her gun, of course.

“Always so eager to make accusations. Yet again, patience was never a virtue you possessed.” He set his cup down on the bar with a forceful thud, catching the attention of the distracted bartender. “And here you are, with a gun to an innocent man’s back. What does that say about you exactly?” His eyes abandoned hers, focusing now on the bartender.

“It only shows I’m a woman who knows what she wants,” she retorted, pressing the pistol further into his back, reminding him that her threats were anything but empty. “And who knows how to get results rather efficiently, at that.”

A mocking smile formed on his face. “Efficient?” he questioned sarcastically, allowing himself to look at her only through the mirrored wall in front of him. “I feel the need to remind you of that situation in Cartagena. We’re calling that efficient now? Because I don’t think that’s the word I would use to describe that moment, my lady.” His gaze remained fixed on her, watching as her face twisted in a pained cringe at the dreaded memory before she quickly collected herself.

“Do not make me cause a scene here,” she warned,applying pressure on his back with her pistol reminding him that she held the power, a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. Her tone was sugary yet commanding. To the outside observer, it looked like a couple out on a date, where the man was being a bit of an ass, and his seemingly sweet, doting girlfriend was doing everything to charm him. She had her arm around his back, strategically holding the pistol out of sight, making it look like a hug. Her body was pressed close to his, appearing defenseless—when she was anything but.

“Always one for dramatics,” he sighed as memories of her previous scenes flooded him. “Can we at least drop the pistol? I know Tyrone must be nearby with my head as a target, and we both know his aim is deadly.”

She smiled, pressing her body closer to his and pushing the pistol painfully into his back. “Very well,” she uttered, retracting her weapon into her coat. A red dot briefly appeared on Secret’s forehead, signaling that the danger had not passed. “Will you hand me the drive, or will I have to forcefully retrieve it?”

“A drive?” he questioned in feigned ignorance. “You’re going to have to give me a bit more to go off of here, my lady.”

Lady Pink leaned in further, her voice a low murmur that barely reached his ear. “This drive holds something that could turn the tables in ways you can’t even imagine, Agent. It’s not just about money or power—it’s about control. You wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of this, trust me.” Her words conveyed not just her seriousness but also an invitation that Agent Secret had refused before.

He turned to face her, forcing her to peel herself away and create distance between them. His eyes scanned hers for any hint of something genuine, but they found nothing but seriousness. “My dear lady, I’m sorry,” he said, fixing a strand of hair that had fallen out of her neatly made braid. His fingers gently grazed her face as he tucked it behind her ear. His eyes already conveyed an apology before his words could. “Trust is something I can’t afford to freely give.” With that, he recoiled his hand, fully abandoning the touch.

Her mouth parted slightly as a hint of pain crossed her eyes. “I—” she began, only to be interrupted by the intrusive ringing of a phone—Agent Secret’s phone.

She stared at him in clear annoyance as he nodded to whatever was being said to him. Her mind swirled with a complex mix of emotions: rejection, urgency, and the high stakes involved. Agent Secret didn’t seem to appreciate how fortunate he was for her to meet him in person, even if it was under the threat of certain death. Normally, she would send Tyrone for such tasks, yet here she was, and he was on a phone call.

She sighed in frustration before her own phone rang. She reached for it from her coat, only for the bartender to accidentally spill an alcoholic drink on her. She stood up in a frenzy, dripping with the drink as she received a steady stream of apologies mixed with the aggravating sound of her ringtone. Her coat was ruined, her phone was ringing, and the bartender’s futile attempt to dab her coat with cheap napkins only heightened her irritation.

With a sigh, she glanced at the stool behind her, a snarky comment ready to combat whatever words Secret would throw at her. But then, a surge of panic rushed through her as she realized Agent Secret had disappeared. Her eyes darted to the glass wall, now covered with curtains, preventing Tyrone from aiming. She quickly scanned the bar, finding that he had indeed vanished.

“Sorry, miss, I—” the bartender began, but she forcefully shoved him away, grabbing her phone from inside her coat, only for it to fall silent. The sound of a shutting door could be heard above the murmurs of the crowd.

She glanced back at the now-empty spot and found a note pinned beneath his glass. “Of course he would,” she mumbled to herself, barely above a whisper. The bartender was left ignored on his knees, picking up the shattered glass from the ground, as she grabbed the note from the counter, her distraction shattered by the reality that Agent Secret had slipped from her grasp with the drive.

She skillfully opened the folded napkin, her eyes immediately raking over the scribbled words just for an involuntary laugh to escape her. Only one sentence was clumsily scribbled on the crumpled napkin:

My dear lady, always expect the unexpected

                               -Secret 💙

[crossingbaranduin]

Well, this was supposed to go on Discord... and then I wrote so many words that I broke the character limit. So, dumping it here instead!

TAJ headcanons post: Johnson brothers + their nicknames! (Light spoilers for entire series)

Mike: Okay, as much as I am a sucker for tiny!Anders calling Mike "Mikey" in the smattering of deaged!Anders fics on AO3, I had a thought the other night. From what we see in the show, by the time Anders would start talking, there isn't anyone in their lives who would likely call Mike anything but Mikkel. Both their parents solely use Mike's full name, and they're so young that they probably aren't interacting with anyone who'd call Mike something different than what their parents use. (Even Olaf calls Mike Mikkel a decent amount during the show, so if/when he'd visit during this period, it's unlikely he'd be the odd one out here.)

If Anders only knows Mike as Mikkel at this point, I doubt he'd be able to say Mike's full name at first, since Mikkel is a bit complicated to pronounce for a kid just learning how to speak. So… proposal that tiny!Anders' attempts to say Mikkel came out more as "Mik", and that's what stuck. Only gets used for a couple of years, and Ty/Axl never pick it up, since Mike has already started to go by Mike at that point. Gets used on very, very few occasions post-show once everyone's on better terms for the same reason as Andy below, with the additional caveat that Anders opts not to use it if it's not just him and Mike talking.

Anders: Two different degrees of nicknames here. Name is slightly shortened to "Ands" on occasion, mostly by Mike and Ty. Stemmed from their teenage years, stopped being used when Anders was estranged from the family, and slowly worked its way back in over time. Becomes more common post-show when everyone's on better terms again. However, Anders' original nickname was "Andy", started by Mike when Anders was very young. Lasted for a good chunk of their younger years + was also picked up by Ty when he started talking; stopped being used sometime mid-late elementary school. Not used at all for multiple decades; used on very, very rare occasions once everyone is on better terms — means either there's a rare emotionally open moment or shit has hit the fan horribly.

(PS: Dawn is also allowed to use both nicknames. She tries not to abuse said power so Anders won't get defensive about it, but Anders secretly likes it.)

Ty: Solely goes by his nickname; doesn't like being called Tyrone. Put up with their mom using it, but that's the extent of it. None of his siblings have ever called him anything but Ty; even when the brothers are arguing, using Ty's full name is off limits. (Mike did once, very early on into being Ty's guardian. The situation was immediately made ten times worse, and that was never repeated again.) Dawn also only calls him Ty.

Axl: Never really needed a nickname due to how short his name is, and there were no younger siblings to struggle with pronouncing things. However, tiny!Axl felt left out being the only sibling without a nickname, so Anders and Ty occasionally call him "Ax", though that's less of a nickname and them half-dropping a syllable while saying his name out loud. Zeb, however, has given him a litany of goofy nicknames — so many that nobody but Zeb remembers all of them. (Axl may roll his eyes at most of them, but he'd miss the hell of out them if Zeb ever stopped.)

[new-berry]

Top five nineties players!

Hope the weird asks aren’t causing you too much grief

Nah I love weird asks, no one can get weird enough! It’s more how do I make it cool for people who are not into content warning fics to be able to scroll past.

Although let me loudly say: I just find Tyrone Mings hot. There is no other agenda. Like, he’s a babe. All my thoughts about him are just porny giggling.

Fun fact: I always hated Henry because he always played well against my team. Ditto Ian Wright. And Bergcamp. Bastards.

Alan Shearer!

Like… Newcastle have a player that isn’t shit! Instantly he broke his leg and missed a season. Such is being a toon fan.

Duncan Ferguson huge bruiser who became a soft hearted born again Christian. (There is a video of a young Anthony Gordon [younger] shadow boxing him. Like a kitten attacking a pitbull) Nicknamed Duncan disorderly and once ripped off a door to threten Rudd Gulliet’s life. What a man.

David Ginola. Like give me a mecurical Frenchman Tyneside.

David James for something completely different.

Jamie Redknapp. Average player (although at the time I didn’t realise the extent of his injuries) a fluffy haired babe.

Eric Cantona (don’t tell my partner)

David Batty. I have always like them interesting looking.

[megamindsecretlair]

I wish you would write a fic….

with a submissive Tyrone.

Like he’s hesitant at first, not really with it, but as it goes on he opens up a little bit more. I think he’s think he’s too tough to “wine” or “sound like a bitch”, but maybe reader convinced him somehow, and while he doesn’t eventually makes some sounds he begs more with his words, he gets all squirmy and he keeps chasing his hips you reader’s touch….. or something like that. 🫣

Ask and ye shall receive, sweet anon!

Pretty (Pretty) Boy

Pairing: Sub!Tyrone x Dom!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male receiving), teasing, cum swallowing, dirty talk, praise kink, D/s lite, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Use of n-word. Referring to female anatomy as "she".

Summary: See ask. For Valentine's Day, you decide to shake things up. You ask to take control in the bedroom and it unleashes a side of you that you want to see more often.

Word Count: 4,946k

A/N: This ask been kicking my ass!!!!! It has been in my box for so long, I am SOOO sorry, anon! I definitely got in my head for too long and didn't think I could pull it off. Whew! I had a bad day and this absolutely cured me. I need to lay down!! Sorry about the wait, but I hope you enjoy! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @bratzmaraj

“Can you at least try to enjoy it?” You pouted at Tyrone’s scrunched up face. You had tied him to the headboard because you knew your man. You knew that the things you had in mind were going to make him want to grab you and touch you. 

And once he started touching you, he would get his way. He always got his way. Not that you were complaining. Tyrone was addicted to your body and couldn’t help but touch all your smooth curves. But you had been floating this idea in your mind for a few weeks and tonight was the perfect night to try it. 

For Valentine’s Day, you asked Tyrone… if you could be the one in charge. Just thinking about having the entirety of this man at your mercy had you clenching your thighs beneath your robe. 

He tested the restraints by tugging on them. “You tied these a little too good. You been takin’ notes,” he said. He gave you a smirk, licking his lips and tilting his head to try and get a peek beneath your robe. 

You grabbed his chin and pushed his face to meet yours. You gave him a quick peck. “If you’re good, you’ll get rewarded,” you said, dropping your voice to a silky purr. 

You saw your words sink into his eyes. They rounded for half a second before his eyes drooped. “Aight, aight, but I ain’t no bitch,” he said. 

You gave him another peck. “Of course not,” you said. You gave him a wink and finished checking over the restraints and that he couldn’t secretly get out. You made sure the ties were well out of reach of his long fingers.

Those fingers were capable of bringing you intense pleasure and deftly worked over every inch of your skin. If he could get out of the ties, he absolutely would take over. 

The sweet, subtle aroma of honeysuckle and orange flower blossoms filled the room from the candles you had lit. The lights were dimmed giving it a completely intimate feel despite it being a basic room you were overly familiar with. 

You glanced at Tyrone as he watched you, a bit wary. You giggled. “I ain’t gon’ hurt you. Don’t you trust me?” You asked. 

“I trust you. I just..Ion know about this one,” he said. 

You leaned down once more and got close to his face. “Hey, we have a safe word. At any point you want me to stop, I will,” you said and pecked his nose, knowing he secretly loved that shit. He relaxed onto the bed, the rumpled sheets beneath him bunching up. 

“Come on then, baby. Show me what ya got,” he said.

You grinned and stood up, surveying your work. He looked damn good, sitting up against the headboard like a concubine. He still wore black briefs fit snug over his lower half. So plump and thick in thighs and ass that you wanted to take a bite out of him. 

You held yourself back and then told him you’d be right back. You went to your phone on the dresser and turned on your “Grown” playlist on Spotify. The deep croon of Ro James floated softly through the speakers and you left the room. 

You went to the bathroom, nerves bubbling in your gut but you stamped it out. Tyrone was being brave and letting you play out a fantasy of yours so you had to be brave as well. You took a few deep breaths and let your other side come out. Let your inner freak rise to the surface and completely take over. 

You looked good, he looked good, and you were getting everything you wanted and then some. So you threw your shoulders back and admired your sexy lingerie. You checked over the baroque garter belt with the straps pinching pleasurably into your thighs. The thigh high fishnet tights were flushed against your legs and your bra had your girls looking lovely. 

You left the room and walked back to your room. When you opened the door, Tyrone’s eyes snapped to yours. Heat brushed all over your skin as you walked further in and he took in your outfit. 

His briefs began to tent a little with evidence of his arousal standing at attention. You walked over to him, giving a dramatic swing of your hips. You trailed a finger from his legs to his thighs, to his stomach. His stomach contracted as you reached higher and he inhaled sharply as if you burned him. 

“Got damn,” he said, licking his lips. He moved his hands forward but was held back by the ties. He looked up and cursed, a smirk on his lips. “Forgot already. I really can’t touch you?” He asked.

“Ion know, maybe if you ask nicely,” you said. 

You bent down and grabbed the bottle of lotion there. It was unscented, but it would do the trick. He looked at you funny until you squirted some in your hand. He watched as your hands descended on his legs, rubbing the lotion into his skin.

“What you doin’?” He asked.

“You take care of me all the time. I want to take care of you. Now sit back and be quiet,” you said. You gave him a stern look and he smiled. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. 

You smiled, pleased that he was trying in his own way. You rubbed his legs and feet. He was jumpy by the time you got to that point, not used to anyone touching them. You kept it brief since you weren’t at the torturing stage yet.

Your eyes flicked to his as you worked on the other leg, an evil smirk on your face. He had no idea what he was in for. Was this how he usually felt? Drunk on power that he could do anything he wanted to your body and you would enjoy it? And you had no fuckin’ clue?

You advanced up to his thighs. A tiny sound escaped him, too low for you to hear what. He smiled at you to cover it up, biting his bottom lip and sitting back against the headboard. His eyes were lidded.

“Aren’t you being a good boy,” you said. 

“I like to please,” he said. 

“Mhm, you like to tease,” you said. You worked his massive thighs, spreading lotion all over. It was such a small thing, but you were mesmerized by the way the lotion sunk into his bronzed skin. 

He had a smattering of hair on his thighs as you relished in the feel of him. The power in his thighs alone. He could crush watermelons and you thought about how you were going to ride him.

You had been debating how to do just that once he said yes to doing this. Your pussy clenched thinking of riding him reverse cowgirl. Bouncing on his dick while you fondled his balls. Or you could ride him cowgirl and dig your nails across his chest. You could watch his face while you selfishly took what you wanted. 

The back of your neck tingled. You probably shouldn’t do this too often in the future if he was open to it. You were entirely too excited to use him like your own personal sex toy. 

You bent low over him while you pretended to work a problem area. A part of your arm grazed his dick and he hissed, ending with a small sigh. You pressed kisses to his stomach, intentionally skipping his dick. But your mouth was close enough that a little dip to your chin would bring your lips to the base of him. 

“You are the most amazing man ever. Do you have any idea how much I love you?” You asked. You peppered your praise in between kisses. “Do you have any idea how happy you make me?” 

You looked up at him while he had a wide smile on his face. His toothy grin brightened his face, making him as open as you've ever seen him. He was usually scowling, so damn serious all the time. His mind stayed on his money and his lady. You smiled at the joy you saw there. 

“Shit, got a nigga blushin’ over here,” he said. If you weren’t mistaken…his voice was a little thick with emotion. 

You weren’t going to point it out so you kissed his dick through the fabric. “You’re doing so good for me, Ty. You comfortable?” You asked.

“You could loosen these ties,” he said. 

“Nice try,” you said. You stood up and put more lotion into your palms. You worked your way over his chest, rubbing his solid stomach and studying his dips and grooves. You’d been together long enough that you knew every inch of him.

But it was rare when you got to explore his body. Take your time and see what you could do to him. Your hands crept up his sides and when you wiggled your fingers, he twisted away from you. 

“Aye, aye! Don’t start that shit!” He yelled. 

“Excuse me?” You asked. 

“Don’t start that shit!” He said. 

You slid your fingers upwards anyway and tickled him in earnest. He twisted and writhed beneath you, his legs flopping on the bed.

“Because I seem to remember begging for mercy and someone said no,” you said. You giggled as you watched his face in a mix of pain and happiness. He threw his head back trying to get away from you but he was powerless. 

“You’re lucky I’m nicer,” you said. You stopped tickling him and moved your attention to his arms. You licked your lips as you ran your hands over his muscles. Back and forth, back and forth. His muscles contracted and you traced one long vein down his forearm.

His tattoos were an aphrodisiac all on its own. The lion was your favorite. He said it represented his dueling spirits, both lover and fighter. You worked the lotion into his wrists around the restraints. Too bad you couldn’t rub his hands. He had such big hands, big enough to grab your ass whenever he felt like. Which was all the time. 

Tyrone loved you out loud and that was your favorite part about him. There wasn’t an inch of your soul that didn’t love and cherish this man. You didn’t have the words or the comprehension to let him see how much you loved him. How much you woke up everyday and had to wrap your fingers around your arms and squeeze them tight. To make sure that it was real and you had a man who adored you. 

You just wanted to make him feel good. To make him feel a fraction of what he did for you on a regular basis. You cleaned your hands on a towel on the nightstand. “Feel good, baby?” You asked.

Tyrone groaned, his eyes drooping further as if he could go to sleep. He smiled, wide once more. Fuck, you would never get sick of seeing that look on his face. You would take a mental snapshot and lock it in your heart. You would pull it out a thousand times a day just to remember this over and over again. 

“Yes, ma’am. I see why you always askin’ for one now,” he said with a chuckle. Hell yeah. When Tyrone rubbed your calves after a stressful day on your feet, you were jelly in his hands and would agree to absolutely everything he wanted. If he wanted to pour ice cream on your pussy and lick it off, you would not object. 

But tonight was about making him feel good. You smiled as you went to the foot of the bed. You turned your palm until you were cupping his balls. 

“Now, what do we have here,” you said. You increased the pressure a bit, squeezing his balls until he groaned a little louder. 

You turned your fingers, massaging his balls in the way you knew made him glitch. He jerked and twisted beneath you, his breaths coming in choppy and weak. Your pussy throbbed, watching the mix of emotions play out over his face. 

Oh, you could get used to this. Used to driving him wild first. “Okay, okay, okay,” he huffed. He drew his legs up to try and dislodge you. His arms wrestled with the ties as he tried to get free. When it felt too good, when his voice was low in the back of his throat, he would make you stop. 

He assured you that he couldn’t cum this way, but you wanted to know what would happen if you kept going. If he didn’t stop you by pushing your hands away. You continued fondling him and he squirmed beneath you. His arms shook more violently as he tried in vain to stop you.

“You know what to say to get me to stop, baby. You gon’ say it?” You asked. 

His eyes were closed tightly, head thrown back. You relished the look of strain on him. How he looked so…pretty. 

He sounded so pretty too. His little staccato whimpers were turning you on in the worst way. You were dripping wet already and you hadn’t really done anything yet. You were going to burn up before you had a chance to let the night play out.

You were too excited, too turned on. Electricity danced in your veins. Your fingers tingled. Everything seemed amplified. His hair is just a touch more coarse. His voice throaty and guttural. The honeysuckle scent invaded your nostrils and now you would forever associate him with the scent. 

“Hol’ on, hol’ on, damn,” he groaned. 

“Ah, ah. You’re a big boy, use your words,” you cooed to him. You leaned forward, getting closer to him so that you didn’t miss a single thing.

The way sweat gathered on his brow and slid down his neck. The way his wide nose flared. The way his pink tongue darted out to lick his parched lips. Those sharp intakes of air. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Your heart cracked in two as you finally got a sense of what he had been talking about. How him hovering over you, looking down at your face, made his entire world light up. You understood now. You felt that same light burst out of you. You were breathless with it. 

“Babe, babe,” he said. His voice was so strained. You were so wet. An empty ache pulsed at the core of you. You needed this man inside of you. But you wanted to savor each moment too. 

“Words, Tyrone, or I stop,” you said.

“No, no!” He shouted. 

“Oh, so you can use your words,” you mocked. 

“Yes,” he hissed. 

“Well then, show me. Show me you can use your words like a good boy,” you said. 

“Don’t stop,” he said. 

“Do better. Beg me, Tyrone,” you commanded. 

It was a desperate need to hear the words on his lips that crawled over your skin. 

“Fuck,” Tyrone said. He licked his lips a few times. His breathing was choppy. The rapid rise and fall of his chest had you clenching and unclenching around anothing. 

He was trying to hold onto that bit of control. That stubborn fight in him was costing him unnecessary torment. You moved closer so that you could peck him with kisses on his temple and cheek.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. You can let go, baby,” you whispered in his ear. 

You huffed and jerked as if he would cum but it didn’t seem like he was going to bust. You knew his face and that wasn’t it. 

You moved your hands to the band of the briefs. He took in deep breaths as your fingers slipped below the band. 

“You gotta tell me the magic words,” you said. 

“Come on,” he groaned. 

His hips moved side to side so subtly you almost missed it. Your fingers slid across his skin and you smiled. He was enjoying this. He really was lucky that you were so nice. You weren’t going to lord it over his head. 

“You come on. You want that nut, don’t you, baby?” You asked. You lowered your voice so that it was a little softer. He loved the sound of your voice and when you talked like this, like an innocent little doll, he said it made him brick up instantly. 

“Fuck,” he huffed out. “Please, babe. Touch me,” he said.

“Hm, that sounds like a command. Are you ordering me to do something, Ty?” You asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said. He shook his head back and forth. 

“Come on, be good for me,” you said.

“Please, please, please touch me.” he said. 

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, pretty boy,” you said.

You began to stroke his long, thick dick. Your hands barely wrapped around him. You used both hands to stroke him slow and hard. 

The song switched to Sevyn Streeter and you shivered. Her songs always made you feel so sexy and in your feminine power. Impatient, you moved his briefs down so that you could look at your handiwork.

You looked at your hands with your nails painted in your favorite color. Your hands sliding over his dick, getting all kinds of delicious sounds from him. How it seemed you were pumping the cum out of him. 

He was still so pretty. Dicks were not supposed to be pretty. They were wrinkly and hairy. You’d seen one, you’d seen them all. Perhaps that was only for men you didn’t like. Because Tyrone’s was like no other. He wielded that thing like a deadly weapon.

It had been inside of you, handing out orgasms like it was sustenance. He kept himself well trimmed and groomed. Telling you that he needed to keep your plate clean. You watched your hands and suddenly grew jealous that they were having all the fun.

You got onto the bed and straddled him in a reverse cowgirl stance. You leaned across his thighs and stomach, scooting your ass back until it was tucked high in the air. Your face was level with his dick so you sucked him down. 

“Oh, fuck,” he jerked off of the bed. You rode him, wiggling your ass for him. His breath fanned across your ass as he tried to lean forward. There wasn’t much slack on the ties so he only got so far. 

“Umf, lemme taste you, please?” He asked.

He was a quick learner. You suckled the tip of his dick and the roar in his chest almost made you cum on the spot. You let him go with a wet pop, licking your lips to collect wayward precum. 

“You know my pussy wet, Tyrone,” you sung. You wiggled your ass. You looked back at him. His eyes were transfixed to your jiggly ass, the globes shaking with its own gravity. He groaned. His hands flexed. Like if he could just grab hold all would be right in the world. 

“You got me so fuckin’ horny, baby,” you moaned. 

“Oh, I need to taste it, babe,” he said. 

“You wanna taste me?” You asked.

Tyrone nodded, tearing his eyes away from your ass just long enough to give you a quick glance. 

“You gotta earn that. Be a good boy for me and cum in my mouth,” you said.

You put your lips back on him and sucked on him just the way you wanted. You went at your own pace, bobbing your head up and down and trying to fit as much of him as you can. His hips bucked on the bed. The heels of his feet dug into the sheets as you gagged on him. 

He lifted his hips and came with an aggressive growl. You sucked and moaned as his cum filled your mouth. You swallowed all of it. Usually you stopped and went to wipe your mouth of any more. But this time, you kept going.

These sounds were different. These were raw and primal. He muttered and sputtered through all kinds of excited sounds as you sucked the fucking soul out of him. 

“Uh, u-” he moaned.

You gyrated on his chest. You felt that moan deep down inside. All the way down to your womb. 

“Shit, I-!” He bucked his hips again and came one more time. His cum splashed the back of your throat and once more, you drank him down. You slowed your strokes, running your tongue lightly down his shaft. He made tortured moaning noises that had you seeing double. 

You stopped with your lips around his tip and then finally let go. You moaned and looked back at him. He was definitely in pain now. That shouldn’t quite turn you on this much. But who were you trying to fool?

You loved this look of pain on his face. Where he gave way to his base instincts. To fuck and be fucked. 

“You earned an award, baby, for being so good,” you said.

Your left hand descended down to your pussy where your fingers instantly slipped through your wet folds. You collected your essence and brought it to his lips. He panted before smelling your scent on your fingers.

His eyes were closed so he moved by the tilt of his wide nose towards your fingers. He opened his mouth and suckled them into his mouth. His tongue ran over your fingers, collecting every last drop.

“You so pretty, Ty,” you breathed. 

“Timeout,” he panted. 

You nodded and got up off of him. The song switched once more to Victoria Monet. It was a good song to relax to. You laid down next to him, wrapping your arm around his middle and staying there. 

He groaned and shook beneath you. His eyes were so tightly closed you wondered if he was intentionally getting himself hurt. 

“Are you okay, Tyrone?” You asked.

“Too much,” he whispered. 

You nodded and focused on not setting his skin on fire. You gave him small, tolerable kisses while he calmed down. You checked on him periodically, making him talk it out like he did for you. 

“Baby, please, I need to be inside you,” Tyrone finally whispered. You looked down the length of him. He was growing by the second. He swelled against your thigh, filling up just for you. 

“You sure you want to keep going? We don’t have to. You’ve already given me so much,” you said. 

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking on the word. “I’m going to die if I don’t get to feel you. I’ll get on my knees and beg right now, untie me,” he said.

You looked up and brought your hand up to cup his face. Stroke his beard. Your hands slid down to his arms, past the tattoos all over his arms. There were some on his chest as well. You wanted to lick every single one. 

You straddled his hips and leaned up so you could look at his face. His eyes immediately went to your breast, concealed by your peek-a-boo bra. The sheer lace let him see your nipples. You played with your breasts as you began to tease him.

You slid your wet pussy across his chest and he licked his lips. His eyes dipped down to where you gyrated on him. His eyes. There was so much you could glean from his eyes alone. He wanted to devour you whole. 

You didn’t give him what he wanted. This was still your fantasy. You turned around on him, getting into a sitting position. You moved your panties to the side and grabbed his dick. You guided him inside you. He was as hard as a brick and nearly as thick as one. 

You groaned, sitting yourself down on that beefy dick. His head thumped on the headboard a few times as you seemed to continue sliding. Only Tyrone could get so deep that you felt him kissing your cervix. You clenched around him thinking of how he could fill you up directly. Shooting his load to the heart of you.

You weren’t sure when or how you became obsessed with being filled up by him but the image was provocative. Everytime he went inside you, your mind instantly flashed to how passionately he would grab your hips and slam you down on his dick.

You groaned and began to bounce, the bed creaking loudly over the music playing. It spurned you on more to hear it. You bounced faster, chasing your pleasure with reckless abandon. 

“Fuck, use me,” Tyrone moaned. “Use me, baby.” 

Your hands gripped his thighs and held on. You steadied yourself and bounced to your heart’s content. He moved seamlessly inside you, pulsing every now and then with his desire. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned. Your screeches were getting louder and louder. 

“Let me feel it, baby, please,” he said, tacking on the please at the last second. Old habits die hard. 

All the teasing you did to him only served to tease yourself. You were already close. Especially with how deep in your guts he was. At this rate, he could definitely rearrange some things in there. You bounced faster. You were so close. So close. So close.

You screamed as you came, howling into the night that you were in heaven. Soaring through the clouds with wind in your air and space beneath your feet. You paused, clutching his thighs as you shook on top of him. 

You cried, your voice too warbly to be coherent. No help from him and you were still a mess on top of him. Flooding him with your arousal. You clenched and unclenched his dick, squeezing him tight enough to make him moan. 

“Can I cum in that pussy?” Tyrone asked. He moved his hips, wiggling you on top of him. You moaned as he pulsed inside of you. You were still so sensitive from your powerful orgasm. A shiver worked its way down your spine and you arched into it. 

“Since you asked so nicely, you can,” you said. 

Tyrone moved his hips. He managed a few inches and your eyes crossed feeling him deep inside. You wanted him to stay there. You wanted to stay connected. If he wanted you to cockwarm him, you would. Just sit there with him lodged inside of you busting load after load into you. 

“Ouue,” you moaned. 

You helped bounce on him while he moved his hips up, bucking and fucking you. You tugged on your nipples, needing a little bite of pain to really drive your pleasure higher. You moved one hand down south, reaching under your panties and circling your clit. 

“Sheeit,” you moaned and came. At the same time, Tyrone moaned loud and proud as he came, flooding your insides. You felt it fill you up to the fucking brim. 

When you finished, Tyrone fell back to the bed, completely spent. Your legs were wobbly noodles. You didn’t think you could move. You took deep breaths, waiting for the ecstasy to dissipate. 

But he always had the strength to make sure you were okay. You were going to do the same, because you loved him and wanted to make him comfortable. You got off of him slowly. He groaned as he slipped out. You got to your feet on the carpet.

You rubbed the sweat from his brow. “Talk to me, baby, are you okay?” You asked. You untied him and rubbed his wrists, rubbing the circulation back into it. You went around the bed and did the same thing to his other wrist.

“Hm, sleepy,” he said. He yawned to prove his point. You smiled at him. 

“Not without me.”

You went to the bathroom and warmed up a washcloth. You cleaned him off, wiping your combined juices. He hissed a little as the cloth touched his dick, but he quickly settled into the bed.

You went to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up with a different cloth. You went back to the room to find Tyrone had slid down into the bed, resting his head against the pillow. Now the mu’fucka knew how you felt when you were overstimulated and speaking in tongues just to make the pleasure stop. It was almost like it was too much. But you couldn’t help but keep going, wanting more.

You blew out the candles and turned off the music. You turned off the overhead light and climbed into bed with Tyrone, pulling the covers up over your lower half. Your top half was too sensitive and overheated for anything more. 

You kissed his arms and chest once you settled into his arms. He flipped over unconsciously, pulling your back into his chest. You snuggled down into his hot body. Your back turned feverish just from his body heat. 

“Wait ‘till I recover,” he murmured into your ear. “I’ma get my payback.”

“See, that was all love. Why it gotta be payback?” You asked.

His hand flexed against your belly. He squeezed your flesh in his big hands and your pussy throbbed. You were already sore from earlier, you did not need another round. 

“Just gotta,” he said.

“But why?”

“Thems the rules,” he said. His voice was hoarse and seemed louder in the quiet, dark room. 

He fell silent and you thought he had drifted off to sleep. You were about to fall yourself when he hummed. 

“Baby?” He asked.

“Yes?” You asked.

“Can you call me ‘pretty boy’ more often?” He whispered into the air. 

“Of course. Anything for my pretty, pretty boy.”

Whew! If you need a cool down with another one, there's so much more! The Secret Tyrone Files

[arsenalgbt]

whats ur ranking of trent ships? and what do you think of jude/trent

ok ok ok ok ok hear me out!!

trent/dom really got us in a chokehold huh. really didn't think I'd be invested in any Liverpool ships after gerlonso hendollana and veteran discount caninho (iykyk). been years since the last time I wrote for Liverpool fandom. like I posted earlier; pretty privilege is soooooooooooooour real

ngl it's trent/hendo. the age gap, the slight size gap, my personal view of hendo because I was there when he was young and dumb and clearly in love with Adam lallana LMAOOOOOOOOO. ugh. imagine the lore; academy prospects trent 'competing' with literal soulmate Adam? the amazing trent/hendo fics on ao3 also helped!

clearly im biased because I wrote them already; trent/tyrone mings. have y'all seen such underrated man? tyrone mings... goddamn... he's like Dominic calvert-lewin or whoever his name is, but with the towering height... thus the size gap!!!! and this one video/gifset of trent ovulating I said what I said

im learning about trent/VVD likeeeeeeee . the lack of quality fics on ao3 pushed me off ngl lmao. jfc what's there not to like? size gap age gap clashing personalities... this gif... don't worry anon, I am REDEEMING myself by cooking some plot!! coming 2024 (I think lol)

also, not a fan of trent/Jude cuz both are bottoms. they can always take turns fucking eo silly, but not for me! (now, if we're talking Jude/gio Reyna aka the character swap aka hyper British lad being bff with calm reserved American????? and Jude/erling haaland bvb era...)

teehee~

[neko-naruto]

An old friend

Summary: It has been years since anyone last set foot on Stans property, every since he had been hospitalized.

Dipper is planning on changing that with help from his sister, and maybe someone else.

Warnings: Cloning, hospital mention, implied suicide, abandoned buildings, implied blackmail, check tags for further warning.

Tagging: @max-the-hecker

Authors Note: I just watched the episode Double Dipper, trying to savor the 41 episodes, and let me tell you, the possibilities this opened up for me to write.

Hands in the pockets of his worn out navy vest Dipper walked out of the hospital, eyes stuck on the cracked pavement, he couldn't help but wish he could do something to fix Stan. He knew he couldn't, and he knew he shouldn't wish on it, but he couldn't help but care so much, Stan was his family after all. He kicked a rock across the ground before coming to a complete halt, taking note of the sound of footsteps rushing towards him. He stayed still while Mabel caught her breath, leaning on Dippers shoulder, she could practically feel the stress emanating from her brother.

"Do you, uh, do you wanna get some ice cream...?" Mabel asked, hoping it would cheer up her brother, she knew it wouldn't but, might as well try.

"No," Dipper replied with sharply as Mabel straightened out her posture and the two continued walking down the street. "I want things to be good again, I want Wendy to come back from the beyond, I want to go back home."

"Hey, Dip, it's gonna be ok," Mabel said, rubbing her brothers shoulder, brushing the tears from his face. "I can ask mom and dad to drive us back as soon as possible-"

"No!" Dipper snapped, expression quickly dropping as he tried to revoke his statement. "I-I mean, not really, I kind of want to head back to the, the Mystery Shack, or our old attic."

"Dipper, it's been shut behind chainmail fences, barbed wire and padlock upon padlock for years." Mabel said as they took a turn, coming up to the motel their direct family had rented two rooms in for their most recent visit, coming once every month just in case Stan doesn't last.

Gravity Falls has become stale, nothing new has happened in forever, Dipper and Mabel suspect the creatures have fled. Wendy is no longer in town, in a better place for lack of better terms, leaving both Mabel and Dipper with a fresh wound their parents don't understand whenever they bring up the trapper hat. Soos is still in town, but he's moved on from the Mystery Shack, holding onto the book Dipper once possessed for safekeeping, having returned it to the lad when he noticed Dipper back in town.

With a heavy heart Dipper swung open the door to the back seat of the car, Mabel slid in first till she was against the door opposite of the one Dipper opened. Dipper hopped in second, slamming the door shut and crossing his arms, pulling the comfort blanket from under himself and tossing it over to Mabel. Normally he would be fine leaning against the window and just sitting silently while the two wait for their parents, but today he was especially broken. He forcefully slammed his torso into Mabel who was unfazed by her brothers aggressive plea for attention, she simply wrapped an arm around his shoulder before draping the comfort blanket over him.

The two sat, marinating in the humid heat of the car, one window open just enough so they wouldn't suffocate in the mid summer heat of Gravity Falls. The silence drilled into Dippers head, maybe it was the blanket draped over his shoulders causing to much heat, was he getting heat stroke? No, he knew what heat stroke felt like, this most likely wasn't it, he sat up before twisting around a bit so his feet would be pressed against the window Mabel sat by, his torso on leather seating.

"Moms gonna kill you if you scratch the window." Mabel said, Dipper opted to rest his legs on the headrest behind Mabel who didn't seem to mind as she slouched against the window, one leg dropped nearly to floor behind the drivers seat, which was opposite to her, the other one resting on Dippers abdomen.

Dipper tossed the blanket on Mabel who tossed it back, they sat tossing a balled up blanket back and forth until their parents arrived and gave them the key to their room. The two rushed to reach their AC filled room, they found the key wouldn't fit perfectly due to the extreme heat causing the metal to expand. They took turns jamming the key into the door trying to unlock it, Mabel got closest to unlocking it before putting out a hand expectantly, Dipper reluctantly handing her the spare bobby pin he had learned to keep on hand.

When Mabel swung open the door they were greeted with a gust of chilling wind, they both heaved a sigh of relief as they dashed inside, Dipper ending up on the pullout couch before Mabel could take the preferred bedding. Mabel found herself throwing a half frozen root beer to Dipper who was greeted with an aluminum can to the face, he groaned in pain before popping the tab and taking a long slurp. Mabel swung her legs over the end of her bed, a can of orange crush in her hand, tongue stained the shade after she finished chugging the can with a satisfied sigh.

"You want to go to the Mystery Shack, right?" Mabel asked, the sudden question shocking Dipper into snapping up, ending up spilling soda on his shirt in the process, he quickly shed his orange shirt before the liquid could hit his skin.

"Yeah, kind of, but, I mean," Dipper said as he put his soda on the carpeted floor, tossing his now sticky shirt somewhere else. "But it got taken away from society when we could've kept it going."

"Dipper, we were fourteen-" Mabel tried to counter, be cut off sharply by dipper.

"Legal in some parts of Canada!" Dipper snapped, pointing a finger at his sister in an accusatory manner, Mabel rolled her eyes, Dipper giving a weak 'Sorry.' before lying down once again, propping his head on the arm rest at an angle that would cause problems later, he wished he could go back to working at the Mystery Shack like the good days, but no, just cause Stan got hospitalized the family business got driven into the dirt.

"Dip, do you want to go to the Mystery Shack or not?" Mabel asked sharply, Dipper nodded, unable to muster a proper vocal answer.

"Yeah, I do, but it's locked up." Dipper said with a sigh as he reached for a light blanket and turned away from Mabel, pulling the blanket over his head as he did so.

"I'm sure we could just, break in." Mabel offered, Dipper sat up slowly, still draped in blanket.

"Mabel, thats illegal." Was all Dipper had to say with a sigh of disappointment.

"Technically it's family property." Mabel stated as a counter argument, that gathered Dippers attention fully, he practically jumped to his feet as he tore through his suitcase for a fresh shirt.

"Then pack your fucking bag, let's go." Dipper said matter of factly before Mabel grabbed her backpack, emptying a few unneeded items, making sure she kept a battery pack, why she had one, no one was quite sure, but she knew she would need it one day.

---

Here we find Dipper and Mabel alike standing at the bottom of a chain link fence, barbed wire coiled in spirals at the top. Dipper put out a hand, Mabel handed him a pair wire clippers, he started working at the lowest possible row of wires, leaving only a foot to crawl through, up and down. Mabel crawled through first, able to slide through with ease, Dipper ended up ruining his hat

"Wow," Was all Dipper had to say. "They really let this place go to shit."

"Yeah man, they abandoned this place." Mabel said, nudging her brother with her elbow, smirking a bit before walking to the front door, Dipper followed close behind.

"Mabel, they didn't leave the door unlocked," Dipper said, Mabel jiggled the handle until it gave way and fell from its socket, that's certainly welcoming. "Mabel, you broke the door handle."

"I'm sure we'll be fine." Mabel said before pulling open the door slowly, a loud creak sounding off as rusted hinges fought to stay shut.

The two were greeted with a cloud of dust and a room coated in webs, some cob and others active. Oddly enough the light shining in from windows was enough to keep the room well lit, they even found that most of the souvenirs were still in place. Out of sheer curiosity, Dipper attempted to turn on the lights, finding the bulb flickered aggressively in an attempt to stay on, enough electricity for just barely one bulb.

"Mabel, can I have that battery pack," Dipper asked, Mabel gave a questioning look at his brothers question. "Please give me the battery pack, Mabel."

"Alright, I'll be on the roof if you need me." Mabel said before handing Dipper the battery pack and jumper cables, one can't simply go without the other.

"Kay, I'll be downstairs if you need me." Dipper said before sliding the battery pack and jumper cables into his own bag, tossing Mabel a can of cream soda, she caught it before walking up the now breaking ladder, Dipper heading to the basement.

Dipper pushed open the door slowly, finding that their was no light in the basement and the stairs faded into darkness. With a sigh he reached for his flashlight and flicked the switch, a cone of light shining down and lighting the way. The roof and stairs were covered in webbing, all of which cob, along with sticky and dried substances, he chose to believe were spilled pop. He took one step onto the first step, a loud creak sounded off, one that could've turned to a crack, he was lucky it didn't as he stepped further down.

When he reached the last step he realized how cold it was, he blindly reached for a light switch, flicking on the single light. It wasn't exactly bright, but it helped, he started on his way to the closest lamp that shone more light than the actual light in the basement. He found that nothing much had changed from what he remembered, one item was underneath a sheet though, and without anything better to do in an abandoned basement, he reached for the sheet and yanked it off.

Dipper was greeted with the sight of the old copy machine, the one that could copy human flesh and bring life to it.

He remembered what this machine had caused, he hated to think of it, he knew three and four were probably still out their living their best lives, none the wiser to Stans case.

He kicked the copy machine with a grumble, never wanting to see it again.

But, he might as well see if it still works, he did miss his copies.

He pulled off his bag before crouching and pulling out the needed items to try and jump start it. He unplugged the machine before hooking up each jumper cable to their respective location, unsure if this was even a mildly ok idea. Without a second thought he started the battery pack, everything was silent before the machine started to hum in contentment as electricity started to flow.

Shakily was how he lifted the lid of the machine, it snapped off, he hoped he could fix that as well. Hoping it wouldn't break under his weight he hopped on and laid down on his back, pressing the button on the side of the machine. He took note of the how the green strip of light tingled against his skin despite the vest and pants he wore, he had to refrain from squirming as his genetics were copied.

He heard the sound of paper being shot out as the green light shut off, he slid off the glass screen before waiting for the paper to finish printing.

As the paper fluttered down to the floor he stood expectantly for something good to happen.

Dipper sat on the creaking floor as he waited, nothing happened for quite some time, maybe he was wrong hoping that the old thing would work. He picked up the paper and held it in front of him, nearly dropping it when the copy started to push from the paper, he did fall back when he was hit with the full weight of his double. The internally rotting floorboards nearly snapped under their combined weight, they shared a look of fear.

They both scrambled to move from the floorboard, Tyrone ending up slamming himself into the copy machine, he gave a weak groan as his still forming body ached. Dipper ended up knocking the lamp off the edge of the counter, the bulb shattered with a high pitched sound as the metal cooled and dimmer. The two sat in near perfect darkness and silence, relatively heavy breathing the only thing that could be heard.

Tyrones heart beat pounded in his ears, suddenly back again after so long, how long had been out for?

Oh, he was confused.

He couldn't believe he had been brought back, a swarm of fresh memories hit him. His confusion turned to grief and stress in a second as he crossed his arms loosely.

"So, I guess you've forgiven me after so long." Tyrone said as he stood up, plain blue and white cap in his hands.

"Yeah, one could put things that way." Dipper said before standing up, rubbing one of his arms nervously.

"Ha, it's kind of awkward you know, I haven't been in existence for so long, yet, I'm back again, in your time of need, again," Tyrone said nervously, looking to the side as he rolled his eyes. "If you could call Grunkle Stan dying in a hospital a time of need."

"Guess so, it's been really rough lately, and I guess I wanted to see someone who would understand." Dipper said quietly.

"Do you want a hug or something?" Tyrone asked, considering he had only existed for only four and a half hours, he had no clue what was socially acceptable in this situation, didn't help he was Dipper, that only made things worse.

Dipper nodded slowly, nearly on the verge of crying, if it weren't for the distance he would've felt safe to body slam Tyrone as a hug substitute. Instead of a body slam he took a running start, knocking Tyrone back onto the printer, the battery kicked out of the way in the process. The edge of the printer dug into Tyrones back, but he didn't complain, simply attempted to comfort Dipper instead, not one hundred percent sure of how.

"Hey Dipper, do you have any more cream soda?!" Mabel shouted down the stairs as she slowly stepped down, coming to a complete halt when she reached the bottom.

Ever so slowly she raised her phone, smirk growing wider as Tyrone silently begged her not to, she ignored his silent plea as she snapped the picture.

"I guess my brothers gay for his clone."

"Mabel, this is nothing like what it looks like."

"Sure."

[shipping-hafael-is-taste]

Me @ Hafael and Tyrandy constantly

Me: I LOVE a slow burn!!!!!! That’s 👏🏻 my👏🏻shit👏🏻

Also me, actually reading/watching a slow burn: END MY LIFE WHEN ARE THEY GONNA KISS!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM SUFFERING!!!!!!

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

BESTIES!! PART 10 IS A HOT ONE!! Enjoy reading it as much as I did while writing it (and re-reading it because its probs one of my fav parts of the whole series) Love Always, Steph xx

Part 10 | parte dieci

warnings; heavy-petting, almost-smut, and a hot jack grealish - read at your own risk ;) word count; 2469. writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Monday 16/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

Longing glances and shy smiles. That  was how Amelia and Ben both spent the next morning at Cobham together, prior to travelling to Stamford Bridge for the fourth match of the season against Aston Villa. The two had spent the rest of the evening relaxing on the couch; no additional kisses were shared between them as they had both agreed to keep things friendly, and no matter how hard Ben tried, Amelia had no intentions of going any further just yet. She had admitted to him something that she had never uttered out loud before: she still needed to work out how to exist without Fede.

While their situationship had been as unconventional as it was, it was still something that Amelia had grown to live with and love. Fede’s personality was unlike no other she had come across, perhaps closest to that of Jack Grealish. Friendly, flirtatious, charming, to the point where she found herself blushing sometimes - not many people had been able to make her shy enough to blush, but Fede had, and now Jack was too.

hot boy grealish

mornin mils, can’t wait to see ya today.

I’ll be the hot one with the good hair and even better ass.

hot gal mils

morning my dear jacky, looking forward to seeing you too.

Is Tyrone not playing?

His bum has always been my fav bum to stare at.

hot boy grealish

cut it out, you.

Banter-filled texts had been a constant stream of entertainment throughout the days leading up to the match. Jack has been preparing Amelia for the possibility of her losing, constantly picking on the girl for being an overachiever and saying that she needs to be brought down a few pegs, having been quite some time since her team had lost a match. Amelia however, with enough self-confidence to rival that of the villa boy, wouldn’t even let him finish his sentences. Far too superstitious for that to happen.

The girl believed in superstitions, and she was not about to tempt her fate. She even went so far as to have her family name and a small Italian flag embroidered onto the inside of her collar of every polo shirt she would wear for match days. She did it at Juventus and organised for it to be done to her new Chelsea uniform. It was a personal choice, something that happened to run in her family also, her father and brother also having the White family name stitched to the inside of their kit. It was a way of keeping them all tied together, no matter what side of the pitch they were on. The Italian flag was there to remind her of all that the country had given her: her grandparents and a chance to be brilliant at what she loves most.

Arriving at Stamford Bridge off of the team bus, Jorgi had insisted she sitwith him and they spoke exclusively in Italian for the 30-odd minute drive from Cobham. Despite Amelia purchasing a new car a few days prior, Jorgi insisted they continue to carpool. It worked out well because now Amelia wouldn’t have to catch the team bus back to the training ground after the match. She had spent the better part of an hour out on the pitch with some of the boys, running through the plays she had in mind before she ushered them back into the changeroom, allowing the Aston Villa men to have their time out on the grass.

______________________________________________________________

“I would know that bum anywhere.”

“Hello Jack, nice to see you too. I’ve been well thanks, so has my bum. I’ll let my face know you said hello, too,” I spoke as I stood up from my crouched position, where I had been tying my laces.

“Just kiddin love, actually no I'm not - I love your bum. But I am happy to see your beautiful face too!” Jack spoke, as he pulled me into a hug - wrapping both of his arms around my head, effectively pushing me further into his chest.

“You saw my face a couple days ago when we were on FaceTime!”

“I saw your bum a few days ago on FaceTimetoo, doesn’t mean I'm not happy to see it!”

“So that's why you like helping me do my laundry, so you can see my backside as I reach into the machine!”

“Now I’m not a religious man, but I have prayed to God a few times that you drop a sock or two riiiiiiight in front of the camera.” He laughed back at my shocked expression.

“Jack! You are ridiculous! Stop being such a perv! No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend” I play-shouted at him as I smacked him with my rolled up matchday program.

“I’m holding out for you, my love.”

“Always the joker, Jack. Get out there and prepare for the worst match of your season.”

“Dream on Mils, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“Sure thing Jacky, sure thing.”

I walked further up the tunnel towards the changeroom, getting ready to deliver my strategy talk to the boys.

“Stop looking at my ass, Grealish!” I shouted without turning around. The boisterous laugh that followed my exclamation was enough to know that I was correct. I didn’t need to turn around to be able to predict what the laddish lad was already doing.

60 minutes of football later.

Amelia was correct in saying that Chelsea were going to win the match, her quiet confidence only getting louder and louder as each premier league match went on. She was apprehensive at first to see if her tactics were going to work in the Prem, or if there was to be some compromise on skill due to the fast-paced nature of the game. So far, however, the Chelsea men were quick learners and even quicker to execute.

One thing she wasn’t prepared for, however, was the absolute worldie that Jack had scored just before half-time at the Bridge. There was an element of familiarity in his goal, recognising the play as one of her own. A small smile crossed  her face after he scored, running to celebrate with the away fans before jogging down past the bench and mouthing a quick “all you baby” at her as he moved back into position. She must have told him about it back when she was in Italy, knowing that there was no chance she would have exchanged her trade secrets to an enemy in the same league. It warmed her to know he paid enough attention to her to be able to practice that on his own with his team and execute it flawlessly in a live game.

What Amelia also wasn’t prepared for was for anyone else to recognise the play. Behind her on the bench sat an oddly-inquisitive Ben. He saw the tactic as it was playing out, recognising the run that Jack had to make to put himself in the box at the exact moment that John McGinn crossed the ball. Better yet, he saw Jack run down the sideline, nowhere near where he should have been, and mouth those words to Amelia. He wanted to know what was going on, was that why she wasn’t ready to commit to him?

Later that same evening.

After a hot shower, Amelia was curled up on the couch, ready to continue the docuseries she was watching the night before when she had an unexpected visitor pop round and confess his feelings to her. Thinking back on the night prior, she was happy that things ended up working out the way they did. Of course she wasn’t exactly thrilled with just how they happened but she could forgive the sweet boy. His intentions were pure and that's not something she was used to. It made her giddy to think about him, and about where things may go in the future.

A ring of her doorbell, almost to the exact hour that it had the night prior, made her get off her couch and walk down the small hall to the front door with a smirk on her face. Expecting to see the same brown-haired, blue-eyed boy that seemed to enjoy ringing her bell after hours. What she saw on the other side, however, was not what she was expecting.

“Jack, what on bloody God’s earth are you doing here?! You should be halfway back to Birmingham by now!”

“Are you gonna let me in love, it’s bloody cold out ‘ere tonight. Come on, shove over,” The slightly-less-than-6-foot-tall footballer commandeered her hallway, shutting the door behind him and locking it. This,  coupled with his overnight duffle bag hanging off his shoulder let Amelia know that he had no other plans but to stay with her.

“Sure, Jack, I suppose you can come in and spend the night crashing in my spare room.”

“Now now, don’t pretend that you’re not happy to see me, love. And a spare room? I believe you promised me a cuddle.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t help but smile at the charming young man. Feeling the blush start to spread from her chest up her neck and across her cheeks, she quickly turned and walked into her kitchen, calling out over her shoulder to ask if he wanted a cup of tea. Feeling a sense of deja vu from the night before, she shook her head and reminded herself that this is nothing like the night before. How could it have been - there was no kissing involved.

“Was that a blush I saw? Do I make you nervous, Amelia?” Somehow, Jack had moved to be right behind the girl at her kitchen counter. Hands on her hips, chest to her back, lips to her ear. Amelia felt herself freeze, and then relax into his hands.

“Jack, please, I don’t think we should do this.”

“Why not, Mils? You can feel it, too. The tension through the screen’s enough to force me into a cold shower most nights.”

And just like the night before, the whistle of the kettle was the only piercing sound resonating around the townhouse. Whilst all she saw was truth behind Ben’s eyes, Jack's eyes were clouded with lust and affection. Just once, she could give in, right?

Leaning her head back to rest on his right shoulder, he attached his lips to the left side of her neck. Hands rolling from the side of her hips, to underneath her shirt, feeling the small navel piercing between his fingers and smirking.

“Didn’t take you for being the kind of girl to have a piercing, Mils,” He spoke into her collarbone, a small nip to the sensitive skin as the girl continued to focus on her breathing.

“Piercings, Jack. I have more than one” She breathlessly spoke, knowing exactly what she was doing now. The admission of having more than one piercing that he could not see was all of the consent Jack needed to continue his exploration of her body.

“Are you going to let me see them, darling?”

“If you’re lucky.”

“I’d say I'm the luckiest guy in the world right now, especially in this position.”

She was unsure how it had happened, but Jack had pressed her further into the countertop. With her back still to his chest, his waist was at the perfect height to press into the small of her back. His leg had settled between both of her own and his hands had found the bottom of her bralette and were gently caressing her rib cage, desperate to get closer to where he presumed her other piercing was.

“We shouldn’t be doing this Jack,” she breathed out into the air, hot air escaping her lungs to resemble what she felt brewing in the pit of her stomach. Desire.

“Why the bloody hell not?” he mumbled into her sweet spot, where her jaw met her neck.

“Because I've been here before. This is bad.” With her eyes shut, he continued his way down her neck. The fabric of her top shifted so he could slide one of her straps down her arm.

“If it's bad, why does it feel so good? '' Whilst his lips got to work on her collarbone, and his hand was busy toying with the elastic line of her bralette, his other hand began to fiddle with her fingers. Entwining them with his own, the kind of strength she needed to feel to make her next decisions.

Pushing back off of the counter, meaning her ass had pushed right into the part of his body where he wanted her most, Amelia turned around and faced Jack. The two stood there, slightly panting, staring at each other. Amelia being the kind of girl that she is, decided that she wanted to have a little slice of the dominance pie. Maintaining eye contact, she lifted the bottom of her t-shirt over her head and dropped in on the floor, that second piercing now very clearly visible through the sheer fabric of her bralette.

“Come on Jack, aren’t you an athlete? What’s got you so out of breath? I thought you’d be able to last a little longer than some heavy petting.” She taunted at the smirking man, wanting nothing more than to mess up his hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. That's exactly the position that they found themselves in not more than 5 minutes later, this time upstairs in her bedroom.

Throughout the multiple rounds of passion that the two so-called friends shared that night, not once had their lips touched. Of course, her lips had touched parts of him and he had definitely been all over a completely different set of lips a few times (and from a few different positions), but face to face, eye to eye, nose to nose - their lips had never met. That told Amelia enough to set her anxiety on fire. Had she just gotten involved with a carbon-copy of the man she left behind in Italy?

The regret seeped through her bones and settled into her heart by the time that the Villa boy had fallen asleep next to her. What had she done? This was not the girl Amelia wanted to be anymore. She was done being the girl that was loved only when the lights went out. She wanted love under the sun, she wanted breakfast by the river, double dates, family parties. She wanted the kind of love that you could never try and hide even if you wanted to. She knew that this wasn’t what Jack was able to offer her. She was grateful for their friendship, she truly was, he made her laugh more than most people but for the first time in a very long time, she was certain that that's all she wanted from him.

Part 11. | parte undicesima

[melanated-maddy]

TYTON

Hey welcome to this fan fiction. I recently finished war storm and I’m in love with Tyton. Couldn’t help but want to right a fic after seeing so little on this guy on tumblr. Don’t know if I’ll write more as got exams but if you like let me know! All characters and world and everything belongs to the queen herself Victoria Aveyard

Chapter 1

“Debark, debark, debark.”

Tyton was snapped out of his musings pale fingers still gripped against the fading cover of his book. They’d finally arrived back in Ascendant after another long plane journey. A year after the kingdom of Norta was officially dissolved with Cal’s abdication there was still unrest with the Silvers. Too many houses had attempted to feel comfortable on the sparkling throne. ‘Osanos says water comes after fire, Rhambos is taking strength and power a little too literally and Merandus is trying hard to distance themselves from the insanity their own brought forth in Maven and actually claim the throne. At least there’s no more Samos worries. That ship sailed or should I say smashed along with Volo’s head with his offspring are safely tucked away in the capital.’ The soldiers on the plane had started their move off some in a rush to get home to worried families and others ready to have a drink. Davidson was the closet family Tyton had after his own lost their lives to a raid. His mother, father and two younger brothers all gone in an instant. That instance was the first time Tyton’s ability was able to properly manifest. Properly surge. Properly show how dangerous he was. It was Davidson who found him when searching the wrecks of homes and families. Still holding his brother’s Aeon’s hand tears in his eyes. Davidson was always quiet even back in those days and knelt to Tyton’s small height hugging him close. After that day Davidson properly set about burying the family well allowing Tyton to grieve and giving him another place to call home. He’d never admit it, but Tyton was lucky...relieved that Davidson and Carmadon took him in. Even if those raiders who had taken his family from him deserved his rage, he was terrified of the lightning under his skin. With a huff, Tyton uncoiled his long body from his seat standing and stretching up to remind his muscles of their function. The suit he wore was dark not one of the traditional Montfort green it just would not do for some missions. Under his seat he pulled free the small bag carrying a bottle of water, bag of nuts and stored the book into it securely. It was the last thing he’d received from his parents and even so he still struggled to get through it properly. As Tyton turned to move out the aircraft door onto the tarmac he spotted Mare struggling to reach an overhead compartment to grab something. He quickly moved forward and grabbed hold of two items: a maroon scarf and backpack.

“Thanks.”

“No worries I’m always available to help the vertically challenged.”

Mare’s face turned into a vivid shade of crimson and she moved as if ready to punch his arm when Cal swung his head back into the cabin. He seemed exasperated which quickly shifted to a swift glare as his eyes settled on how close the two were.

“Tyton.”

“Cal.”

“Mare what's taking so long?”

“Difficulties getting the scarf and backpack you decided to thrust into the overhead bin. As well as being ready to obliterate string bean here.”

Tyton gave a chuckle, although he was slightly leaner than Cal a string bean he was not.

“Don’t worry just helping her out she’s still yours, your highness.”

Cal bristled with the label, but Tyton was already strolling out onto the blinding tarmac doused in bright light.

As he got his bearings about himself, Tyton could not help feeling the pulses of electricity going off in every person around hims body. Just as you could imagine different emotions and thoughts had different electric compositions. As people moved around he recognised stress signals, pulses of joy and shifts of concentration. The signals never went away but with time he’d found away to keep them working in tandem with him so he didn’t get overwhelmed.

“Tyton come on rides here.” Rafe called his hair in the sun giving the appearance of green flames.

Tyton walked to the transport, long legs eating up the distance in a few moments to be face to face with Rafe. Ella must’ve caught a different one as the storm addict’s blue hair was no where to be seen. Together the two walked towards Davidson who was speaking to Arezzo in hushed tones. With a nod she was dismissed walking instead of jumping to wherever she needed to go. Davidson turned to the two a smooth smile on his face and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a quick trill.

“Rafe!”

A blur of orange smashed into Rafe’s chest holding him tightly as he clutched her back.

Laughing Rafe greeted her, “Iz, nice to see you too, but you’re crushing me.”

With one last tug, Izelle released her older brother a wide grin tugging on her lips as she looked up at him. Izelle, was Rafe’s little sister by a year who shared his dark brown skin smooth and even and bright smile. In her orange dress that spun around her knees and black combat boots, she giggled letting her hair of tight curls circling her head move slightly held back with an orange band.

“Is it wrong for me to have missed my dumb big brother? Am I wrong Tyton?”

Tyton smiled and shook his head as Rafe glared at him.

“So nice to know that it won’t be a strongarm that gets me but my sister’s choke hold.”

Iz shoved Rafe as he rolled his eyes and moved to put his bags in the transport while Iz turned to greet Tyton.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

And with that Tyton opened his arms and Izelle moved into them giving him a tight hug.

‘Her hugs are always great.’

“Thanks for looking out for Rafe. I’m one hundred percent sure he’s not dead somewhere because of you.”

A deep rumble erupted from Tyton as he shook his head. They walked to the transport as Tyton asked how she’d been.

“All good here finally ready to move onto the fourth arc only two more to go before I’m a qualified teacher of education.”

“That’s excellent. You’ve worked hard for it.”

“Yeah it’s been so long definitely the hardest thing I’ve faced, but it’ll be so worth it once I’m in a class with little guys.”

“Do you know what specialism you’ll take yet Izzy?”

In Montfort, classes were not segregated at all with children of all blood types getting the same education to the best standard they could. Those who were Ardent or Silver has supplementary classes to help in coming into their abilities. However, it was courtesy for teachers at normal school to specialise in understanding one blood type well so that support chains could be used in school for any student struggling.

“I’m not sure yet to be honest. I’ve still got to think, might swing for Ardent or Red they’ve already got lots of silver specialists.”

Tyton liked listening to Izzy speak. Her mind although more hyperactive than most was one he enjoyed feeling the thrum of. She would be an excellent teacher one who was fun and silly, but able to understand and be serious when needed. For all her loudness Rafe often called her the thunder to his lightning. As Izzy spoke she tended to often get enthralled by her words and lost her bearings of where she was. So much so she didn’t see a smaller transport squealing into her path. In seconds Tyron had pulled her back allowing the small buggy to rush past on its was.

“Izzy.”

“Ha sorry about that. Forgive me.”

And with a smile, all was forgiven.

“Come on Rafe is definitely going to start a mood if we don’t hurry up,” and with that she pulled his arm to the transport releasing him to clamber up and take a seat next to Rafe. For all the bickering and teasing they did the two siblings loved each other dearly. They had sought refuge in Montfort from the Piedmont principalities with their mother. The two remembered little about their original home as they had left so young, but the happiness Montfort gave them was all they needed. Forgetting all about her conversation with Tyton, Izzy poked Rafe to tell her all about Norta and what things they’d encountered. Izzy had never left Montfort. She was definitely not a soldier, barely remembering to tuck in her thumbs properly when punching Rafe and the Ardent abilities had only passed to him so a useful electricon on the battlefield she was not. The ride to Ascendant was bumpy, Davidson muttering about looking into the concrete and upkeep of the infrastructure when back home. The air rushed in as they sped across the landscapes moving closer to the capital with every second until the transport stopped in a quick halt. The stop was so fast Izzy almost span out of her seat if not for Rafe and Tyton’s arms coming to forth to stop her fall.

“What’s going-“

Davidson was cut off when a terrible crunch sounded off. Leaning forward, he could see one of the transports being crushed the metal casings crumbling against each other. Without a thought Davidson threw out a shield glowing blue in the setting sun surrounding the two vehicles.

“Raiders already?” Rafe hit his head against the seat in frustration before moving out of the car to help passengers in the afflicted vehicle. Tyton quickly went about feeling how many Raiders were out there without being told.

“10, all seems to be magnetron. 3 females, 7 males. Wait they’re leaving?”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah moving away.”

Davidson heaved a sigh, “Radio in for some teleporters for the wounded.”

“They’re already here.” Tyton looked out seeing that those badly injured were being jumped back. Being so close to Ascendant meant the teleporters could make the jump.

“Alright then, destroy that transport don’t leave anything of use behind for them.”

With that, Tyton moved to the transport now empty and absentmindedly called forth a storm preparing for a powerful bolt. The skies darkened as his storm came into existence. Davidson let the shield down for a moment to let the bolt come through. In a fraction of a second, a burning bolt of lighting came down from the sky smashing against the transport reducing it to dust and scorched earth. The air singed with crackle as the fire wreck obliterated. Tyton surveyed the scene inspecting the damage to see if it was at a high enough level to not be useful to a magnetron. Being happy with it he turned and started to walk back to Davidson and Izzy, Rafe already sitting in his seat. He was laughing at Izzy as she covered her ears wincing at the terrible sound of the lightning on metal. It was a sound not comfortable for most ears, but Tyton’s power was unheard of in an Ardent. He was different to the other electricons being able to handle electricity more naturally than even them. It didn’t take much for him to call a storm bolt of that magnitude. As he was within a few metres of the transport he suddenly felt a barrage of electrical energy moving towards them. Recognising it as the previous magnetrons he turned to quickly release brain lightning on them being able to drop 4 of them before one let off a spike. Moving out of the way he could do, but the spike still got him in the side forcing him to the ground. Davidson’s shields again went up and Tyton was pulled into the transport as it began to drive away with Davidson’s shields still up. Izzy clambered towards him pulling apart his suit to get a better look at the cut. Her hand pressed down hard as she told Rafe to get the medical kit under the seat. Tyton grasped onto her had holding it down as he grimaced from the pain. “You’re fine it’s only a scratch.” Izzy nervously laughed.

“Of course because scratches produce this much blood.”

“Shut up big baby. I’ve met toddlers tougher than you,” she grinned and Tyton smiled back focusing on her electricity and letting it calm him down in the transport racing back to Ascendant.

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

First lines

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some people to take part.

thanks for the tag @janelevy!!!

1. Tandy froze for one minute before she robotically handed the badge over.

there's a land that is fairer than day, and by faith we can see it afar (we shall meet on that beautiful shore, in the sweet by and by) (cloak and dagger, tandy/tyrone)

2. Katy was twenty-nine when she had her first baby.

(all i need darling) is a life in your shape (shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings, katy/shangqi)

3. Shaun just stared at her.

Impact and Icepacks (shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings, katy/shangqi)

4. Alas, i has't not yet hath reached this mitely town ms. Bennet hast toldeth me of.

Take My Hand (Wreck My Plans) (zoey's extraordinary playlist, tobin/leif + zoey/simon + rose/max)

5. Peter Parker comes in every Tuesday and Thursday.

you can hear it in the silence (you remember it all too well) (spiderman: no way home, michelle "mj"/peter)

6. She hadn’t thought about how uncomfortable the job might make her.

(the holy) or the broken, Hallelujah (evil, kristen & david & ben)

7. "Move your butt, I’m making latkes!" Ellie said when she entered the house.

Day 8 - Latkes (third shift society, ellie/ichabod)

8. Luz had been nervous to approach Eda about the matter, that by the time she decided to bring it up, it was day seven, and it felt too late.

Day 7 - Family (the owl house, luz & eda & king)

9. Rory had to say, that despite not really understanding anything that was happening, she was having a pretty fun time.

Day 6 - Sufganiyot (gilmore girls, paris & rory)

10. Natasha stared at the small flames in front of her.

Day 5 - Flames (mcu, steve/&natasha)

11. "Earth to Jessicaaaaaa."

Day 4 - Menorah (marble hornets, jessica & tim)

12. "Hey, Mom? How come we don’t celebrate Hanukkah or Kwanzaa?" Lynn asked after school one day.

Day 3 - Celebrate (evil, kristen & lynn)

13. "Stan, we have a message from Mabel and Dipper," Ford said one night, lying on the twin bed across from him.

Day 2 - Candles (gravity falls, ford & stan)

14. "Hey. Hey. Earth to Simon. Whatcha doing?"

Day 1 - Wax (zoey's extraordinary playlist, zoey & max & simon)

15. Introduction: The following clips are raw footage excerpts from Leif Donnelly.

"burn them" (was there ever anything more than your lies) (marble hornets & zoey's extraordinary playlist fusion, tobin batra)

16. Sylvie had never wanted to shoot the messenger as much in the seconds after she found out she was playing Juliet.

whisper low, kiss me sweet (and we’ll go) (loki & mcu, sylvie/loki)

17. The thing was, Maya was surprised Josh didn’t see through the bullshit.

one thing leads to another, too late to run for cover (girl meets world, riley/maya + maya/&zay)

18. Most would probably think a marriage, one kid, and a divorce later might make her pause, not start immediately looking for love.

so near and yet so far from me (reaching for the moon and you) (zoey's extraordinary playlist, zoey/tatiana)

19. "They’re dating."

the right or a clue (I wouldn’t know if I knew) (mcu & loki, young avengers + sylvie/loki)

20. Sylvie gave him a once over.

an indentation in the shape of you (your mark on me, a golden tattoo) (loki, sylvie/loki)

I'm not a particularly large fan of any of these, they are all rather bland, however if I was told to choose, i'd probably pick #6, 15, 16, or 17. i just think they draw you in the most or kinda let the character shine through. Maybe, maybe not, but idk, i like them the most. as for patterns,,, i really like song titles as lyrics, and the only reason eight of these have "day __" there is bc i decided to do Chanukah fics. also, all my opening sentences tend to be very expository.

tagging @swinging-stars-from-satellites, @ingridgradient, @myheartissetinmotion + anyone else who wants to participate! obviously, no pressure to participate if you don't want to! 💗💗

[kitkatwinchester]

Happy Fanfic Writer Friday!!! What song lyric best represents one (or more) of your fics?

Happy (late) Fanfic Writer Friday!! 

Oooooooh!! 

Alright. You all know how much I love these questions, so you shouldn’t be surprised that I am of course going to do this for every single fic, ‘cause it’s fun. :) 

Also, as such, you should not be surprised that it’s late. XD 

Here goes nothing! 

P.S. Since it’s up on both sites now, I’m going to use the version of The Diamond Girl that’s on AO3, ‘cause I like that one more. XD 

P.P.S. Some of these are a lot longer than others, ‘cause I felt like I had to put a whole line (or five) to really get the full impact lol. 

In Alphabetical Order:

QuoteV

An Angel and a Human: We are the broken ones, who chose to spark a flame, watch as our fire rages, our hearts are never tame, ‘cause we were, ‘cause we were, ‘cause we were, ‘cause we were born for this, we were born for this (Born for This by The Score)

Finally: Time after time, you refuse to even listen, I wouldn’t mind, if I knew what I was missing (You Won’t See Me by The Beatles)

Invictus: We’re not related but here’s good news, friends are the family you can choose (Friends are Family by Oh, Hush!)

Love Will Remember: I know it inside my heart, forever will forever be ours, even if we try to forget, love will remember (Love Will Remember by Selena Gomez)

Sibling Love: What if I’m far from home, oh brother I will hear you call, what if I lose it all, oh sister I will help you out, oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do (Hey Brother by Avicii)

Supernatural Adventures in Babysitting: My world is waiting, don’t want to stop, give up, I want it all ‘cause I just ain’t had enough, keep up, we’re gonna show the world that there’s just no stopping us (Wildside by Sabrina Carpenter and Sofia Carson)

The Third Winchester: You could give me hell, you could give me death, right before I bend, I will have revenge, fire through my veins, I will fan the flames, until my dying breath, ‘cause I will never go down any other way (Any Other Way by We the Kings)

The Untold Past: Truth is that it was always going to end, this symphony buzzing in my head, took a market of filth, and sold like summer (The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty by Panic! At The Disco)

Archive of Our Own

5 Times Pepper Reminded Tony She’ll Always Be There for Him and 1 Time He Reminded Her: I will show you the way back home, never leave you all alone, I will stay until the morning comes, I’ll show you how to live again, and heal the brokenness within, let me love you when you come undone (Right Here by Ashes Remain)

Always and Forever: Here’s to the ones that we got, cheers to the wish you were here but you’re not ‘cause the drinks bring back all the memories, of everything we’ve been through (Memories by Maroon 5)

Checking In (On You): You’ll always have my shoulder when you cry, I’ll never let go, never say goodbye, you know you can count on me like one, two, three, I’ll be there, and I know when I need it I can count on you like four, three, two, and you’ll be there (Count On Me by Bruno Mars)

Don’t Mention It, Sammy: So hold on, no matter what we’ll take our bruises and our bumps, but know until kingdom come, you’re not alone, and if this world goes up in flames, just take my hand, don’t be afraid, I’ll fight for you until my days on Earth are done, ‘cause two hearts are better than one (Better Than One by The Score)

Family Traditions: Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now, come morning light, you and I’ll be safe and sound (Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift)

I’ll Be There: I’m only one call away, I’ll be there to save the day, Superman got nothing on me, I’m only one call away (One Call Away by Charlie Puth)

Love in Not So Many Words: I never knew anybody ‘til I knew you, and I know when it rains, oh, it pours, and I know I was born to be yours (Born to Be Yours by Imagine Dragons & Kygo)

My Favorite Troublemakers: You are loved more than you know, I hereby pledge all of my days, to prove it so, though your heart is far too young to realize, the unimaginable light you hold inside (Light by Sleeping at Last)

Never Again: Help, I need somebody, help, not just anybody, help, you know I need someone, help (Help! by The Beatles) 

Nothing Wrong with Being Yourself: When the sharpest words wanna cut me down, I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown ‘em out, I am brave, I am bruised, I am who I’m meant to be, this is me (This Is Me by Keala Settle)

S’More Family Time: This is a place where I don’t feel alone, this is a place where I feel at home, ‘cause I built a home for you, for me (To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra)

The Diamond Girl: My power’s turned on, starting right now I’ll be strong, I’ll play my fight son, and I don’t really care if nobody else believes, ‘cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me (Fight Song by Rachel Platten)

The Meaning of Christmas: So I’m offering this simple phrase, to kids from one to ninety-two, although it’s been said, many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you (The Christmas Song by Nat King Cole)

This Is Where...: We say goodbye, we hold on tight, to these memories that never die (Time of Our Lives by Tyrone Wells)

To An Amazing Big Brother: If you’re lookin’ for hope tonight, raise your hand, if you’re feelin’ alone and don’t understand, if you’re fightin’ in the fight of your life, then stand, we’re gonna make it through this hand-in-hand, and if we fall, we will fall together (Together by For King and Country)

Training Session: I wanna be like you, I wanna walk like you, talk like you, too (I Wanna Be Like You from The Jungle Book)

Welcome to Your New Home: Tell me why the world never fights fair, I’m trying to find home, a place where I can go, to take this off my shoulders, someone take me home (Home by Daughtry)

We’re Winchesters: Fire, faster, everlasting, higher, faster, never crashing, bet you didn’t think that I’d come back to life, stronger (Stronger by The Score)

What You Do For Family: When you lose your feet, fall down to your knees, and your heart’s about to break, I will be your saving grace, when your eyes can’t see, take. my eyes from me, when you’re lost and losing faith, I will be your saving grace (Saving Grace by Kodaline)

Where Life Begins and Love Never Ends: There is no power on earth like your father’s love, so big and so strong as your father’s love (Your Father’s Love by Gary Valenciano)

Who Knew Birthdays Could Be So Complicated: So if you’ve got an anxious heart, you’re not the only one, and I won’t let you fall apart, if you won’t let me run (The Village, the Wolf, and the Boy by Taylor Barrett)

Some of these don’t really fit as well as I’d like them to, but I think they all still work lol. And most of them are pretty spot-on! 

Thanks so much for asking this! Sorry it took me so long to answer, but I really loved this question! <3