#l. loophole

[hua-fei-hua]

i remember specifically hoping to passively pick up more cn through genshin cn dub (like how one picks up japanese from watching too much anime), n i remember being kind of disappointed when it felt like it wasn't rlly working (and it still doesn't really feel that way), but sometimes i'll hear smth, ask what it means, n then suddenly go "!!!" when told bc i heard some character idle with it all the time, or i'll be reading smth in cn n i'll be like "hehe i know that word (bc i saw it pop up all the time doing genshin-related translations)"

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

FIREFLIES NEVER CAME ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your seat is close to the heater. that’s the only reason gojo comes there to warm up.

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, teen!satoru, set in a canon au, mutual pining, fluff, a little bittersweet (melancholic winter vibes <3), introvert/extrovert, reader is antisocial and dense as a brick (black cat vibes :3), also kind of self-deprecating, satoru is very shoujo manga coded, just lots of puppy love!! feat. wingman!suguru <3

a/n; this wasn’t meant to be a fic …… it was gonna be really short and sweet ……… (T_T) anyway i am very fond of this reader/character dynamic so i hope you enjoy reading abt my emotionally stunted kids 🫶 biggest mwah in the world dedicated to professor logan (@staryukis) for teaching me about physics so i could find a loophole in satoru’s infinity :3c all for the sake of lore-accurate (kinda) fluff <3

”what are you listening to?”

your seat is close to the heater. 

it was nothing but a lucky draw, really. yaga-sensei was organizing the desks when you transferred, and so he gave you the first choice; one you had no trouble making, latching on to the chair in the very back, right by the window, right by the sole heater of the room. vital for surviving your chilly winter classes. 

so there you sit. a warmth sneaks through your fuzzy socks, tends to your restless legs. your feet tap and tap, on the cold floorboards, in rhythm with your never-ending thoughts, spinning like a planet in orbit.

through the fogged-up, frosted glass of the window to your left, you observe the world. headphones covering your ears, safe and snug, muffling all noise. you watch as snow falls, wholly entranced, eyes stuck on the icy snowflakes descending from the wool-gray sky — blanketing the frostbitten landscape of the courtyard. it’s pretty, all those skeletal trees, glittering and gleaming like they have something to say. sometimes they look like stars.

”… hey. did you hear me?”

gojo is being particularly chatty, today.

out of the corner of your eye, you see him wave his hand right in front of your face. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s rude; he must be used to all eyes being on him, from the moment he speaks.

with a flutter of your lashes, you lift your weary head. meeting his gaze, the blurry shine of your own visage, reflected in his circle-frame glasses. a soft tilt of his head, and then his lips are twitching upwards, just barely, snowy strands gliding across his forehead and falling over his face. like an excited puppy.

”what are you listening to?”

you read the words off his lips, all sound muffled by your headphones. quick to lift one of your hands, pulling one one of the heavy ear cushions away — letting all white noise in the room flood your senses. the snarls of the wind outside, ieiri’s laughter, the scribbling of geto’s pen against paper. 

it’s overwhelming, but a small price to pay. his voice is softer than usual, during moments like these; there’s a pleasant lull to it.

gojo tips his head to the right, still awaiting your response. all you can do is stare, watching your own reflection, fingers gripping onto the edge of your desk. as if seeking to ground yourself.

with a spoonful of hesitance, you part your lips.

”… do you like music?”

the words seep out into the air, a softly exhaled breath. gojo watches you, silently, for just a moment.

then he gives you a shrug.

”i guess?” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to another — hand slipping into the pocket of his uniform. ”that’s more suguru’s thing.”

ah.

your mouth forms around the syllable, as if responding, but not making any sound. gaze fleeing from his glasses, crumbling under their weight, straying towards the frosted window to your left. safe, familiar, rotting trees and twitching branches. snow just as pure as the boy in front of you.

silence overtakes you both, once more. 

”... not gonna answer?” he asks, with another tilt of his head, absently rocking side to side as he lets out an exhale. ”is it a secret, or something?”

(it is, you think. but you can’t say it out loud.)

before you can part your lips again, the classroom door slides open — and you know it’s yaga-sensei just by the way his feet hit the floorboards, the decisive weight behind every step. you know even before he’s telling you to get back to your seats. 

on cue, gojo stands up straighter, shooting you another glance. bright-eyed, easy-going, every star in the sky leaping out from the glimpse you get of his eyes when he angles his body. two blue pools, flecked with white, like frozen puddles in the street. 

and then he’s strolling away.

gojo leaves, and you take off your headphones; stretching your legs underneath the desk. reaching for your ballpoint pencil, flipping open your textbook, and indulging in sleepy blinks, as yaga begins to drone on and on. you stifle a yawn with the sleeve of your blazer, resting your jaw on the heel of your palm. eyes inevitably straying towards a head of white hair.

but your name is called before you can get lost in your daydreams. 

”page 27, from the top.”

your chair scrapes against the floorboards, as you sluggishly stand up. holding onto your textbook, flipping the pages until you land on the correct passage. with shaky hands, not enough to notice, you read out loud; voice controlled, almost monotone. all you can think is that you feel his frost-clad eyes on you, from the row straight ahead.

but you continue to speak. you speak until you reach the end of the page, until you’re allowed to take your seat again, happy to feel the warmth of the heater radiate against your legs. it’s this warmth that’s important, the most important thing of all.

without it, gojo wouldn’t bother to stop by your desk.

nearly every recess, as soon as yaga leaves the classroom, he’s waltzing over — leaning against the wall, stretching his arms out, purring contentedly as heat spreads throughout his body. you think he must run cold. chatting with you, just to pass the time, just until your teacher comes back. just to warm up.

then he’s leaving, again.

that’s all it is. a cold boy, and a heater by your desk — a conversation that otherwise wouldn’t have occured. even the strongest is vulnerable to changes in temperature, you suppose.

if warmth is all that binds him to you, it’s bound to dwindle away.

(you’re sure he’ll stop as soon as spring comes.)

the next day, gojo is nowhere to be seen. you saw yaga-sensei drag him out of the classroom this morning; something about a clan meeting, something you weren’t paying attention to.

but now you wish you had.

(it’s quiet, without him around. eerily so.)

with nothing to lose, and nothing else to do — you push your chair away from your desk, and walk up to your classmate, a question on your mind.

”… music? are you looking for recommendations?”

you nod. 

geto blinks. caught off guard, you’re sure, surprised that you’d approach him without any prior coaxing. he’s usually the one striking up a conversation with you, like a responsible class president, making sure the weird kid doesn’t feel left out. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s patronizing.

”hmm... well, that depends.” he gives you a smile, soft around the edges. it never feels as genuine as gojo’s, but it’s calming. ”what kind of music do you usually listen to?”

…

you glance down at the floor. bundling up the cuffs of your uniform, fingers clawing softly at the fabric, bottom lip trapped between two sets of teeth.

”… what kind of music does gojo like?”

silence. your words are barely spoken, just above a whisper, just like always, but geto picks up on them anyway. you can tell he does, can feel the weight of his keen eyes on your face. analytical.

then he parts his lips.

”… ohhh.” a low hum, ripe with meaning, buzzing at the bottom of his throat. the corners of his lips quirk up into a knowing smile. ”i see.”

heat rushes to your cheeks, blossoms under your skin. if he notices, he’s even more composed than you thought he was, because he doesn’t mention it. only continues to speak, in that soothing voice, crossing his arms in silent thought.

”hmm…” you follow his gaze, out towards the window, the same webs of frost as always. it’s not snowing, but you still can’t see the blue of the sky. ”i’ve never seen him listen to music before, so i wouldn’t know.”

you can’t help but deflate, at that.

geto only smiles. exhaling, through his nose, mildly humoured — though he’s good at hiding his amusement. ”… what do you think that means?”

a blink. your lashes flutter, as you gaze up at him. 

”… huh?”

”satoru doesn’t listen to music, but he wants to know what you’re listening to.” he says the words almost coachingly, like he’s listing off a string of numbers. you realize he must have been listening in on your conversation, but it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as his tone. ”what do you think that means?”

…

(you haven’t got a clue.)

geto lets out a chuckle, laced with mirth, no longer trying to hide it. paired with a soft shake of his head, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes. ”why do you want to know about his taste in music, then?”

(… that’s a good question.)

he seems to notice your hesitance, your apprehension, the way your teeth seek to trap your bottom lip; always the victim of your muddled mind. you know the answer, of course you do — but it isn’t something you want others knowing. 

thankfully, geto breaks the silence for you.

”i don’t think you need to try so hard, when it comes to him.” his voice is soft, almost sincere, something warmer than usual. glancing away when you meet his eyes. ”… he isn’t worth the effort, anyway.”

but that’s where he’s wrong.

satoru gojo is a special case. a special person. in the orbit of your life, there’s no star you’d rather keep — no one quite as ripe with colour. 

geto couldn’t possibly understand, because gojo is always with him — always orbiting around him. he always will, until you graduate, probably even beyond that. geto has him. they’re the strongest, a pair, always matching their steps to one another. but you only have these quiet days, these chilly classes in between never-ending missions — and that’s all.

when the frost outside the window thaws, gojo will surely stop visiting your desk. your lonely little world. 

that’s exactly why — you need to find a song. if you just teach him about something wonderful enough, if you can give him something other than warmth…

(… maybe he’ll stay with you even after spring comes.)

”next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?” 

geto’s suggestion breaks you out of your thoughts. when you raise your head, to meet the warm pools of amber in his eyes, he gives you a smile. there’s nothing patronizing about the way he’s looking at you now — if anything, you think it may even be slightly fond, but you can never tell what he’s actually feeling. he’s frightening, like that, always a mirror to whatever situation he finds himself in. a chameleon, tilting his head at you.

�� though you can’t help but fall victim to the kindness in his eyes. the velveteen purr of his voice.

”i’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

a nervous pit opens up in your chest, an empty space that gnaws incessantly at your heart. will he?, you want to ask, but it feels like the words are made out of lead. you can’t get them out of your throat.

”… okay,” is all you end up whispering, a soft lull of your tongue. ”i’ll try… thank you.”

geto rewards you with a full smile.

”don’t mention it.”

spring is closer than you thought.

it’s all you can think, when you step onto the pavement, when you feel the morning air gnaw at your frostbitten cheeks. it’s freezing, it’s winter, but the signs of changing seasons are still there — a lonesome snowdrop, the crackle of an icy puddle beneath your feet. the frost is beginning to thaw. 

in a month or so, spring will be here — there’s no stopping it.

”did you bring your card?”

your headphones rest around your neck, allowing you to listen in on your classmates' conversation. all four of you are together, for once, all first-years, walking towards the nearest konbini — at gojo’s insistence. 

it’s been a week since you had that talk with geto, but you still haven’t made any progress with him.

”huh? was i supposed to?”

”… are you kidding me?”

you glance up at the pair. always walking just a little bit ahead, their tall statures obscuring the view in front of you; shoko lags behind, with lazy steps, a trail of tobacco drifting out into the crispy air. all while snowflakes fall from the sky, gently, landing in your hair, on your shoulders, melting on the inside of your palm when you hold it out to catch them. watching as they turn into droplets of water, slip through the gaps between your fingers. 

someone taps your shoulder.

geto has snowflakes stuck in his hair. they’re melting, in the strands of ink-black framing his face, matching the colour of the thick polo jacket he’s wearing. a bright red scarf is tied around his throat, and there’s a weighty look in his eyes — something telling.

a silent cue.

he falls back, slowly but surely, into ieiri’s lazy pace. not before murmuring something unintelligible to gojo, and shooting you a wink — one that makes you frown, confused, a low heat blooming at the base of your spine and crawling up your neck.

and then you realize what he’s done.

gojo is looking right at you, through the black glass of his specs. only wearing a baseball jacket, no gloves or scarves to keep him warm, despite the harsh bite of the open air. for a guy who runs cold, he must not put much thought into his clothing. 

more importantly…

it’s just the two of you, now.

you blink at him, silent as a mouse. it only takes a moment for him to start moving, for you to follow, taking your place beside him while staring right ahead. if he’s bothered by geto slinking away, he doesn’t show it — only continues to walk.

”… that’s so unfair.”

gojo’s voice breaks the silence. you turn your head to gaze at him, the way his lips wrap around the vowels, haphazardly hanging onto every word he speaks.

”just ’cause i have clan money,” he kicks at a pebble on the side of the road, wisps of white hair swaying with a shake of his head, ”suguru thinks i should pay for our snacks. isn’t that unfair?”

you hesitate. then you nod along, absently.

he seems to take that as a yes, because it makes him brighten — as if gleaming with your approval, standing a little straighter, puffing out his chest with an exhale that turns into white smoke.

”right? they only give it to me because they want me to come back to kyoto, anyway…” he trails off, holding the tip of his tongue between his lips. ”… not that it matters. anyway, i just think he’s oppressive.”

”… mm.”

from this angle, you can see a sliver of his eyes. can see the way he steals a glance at you, without even turning his head — hands slipping into his pockets. there’s a moment of silence, until he’s parting his lips again. 

”… i can buy some for you, though.” 

(you barely pick up on the words, spoken almost in a whisper — as if an afterthought.)

he clears his throat.

”… if you don’t have the money, i mean.”

you can’t help but blink, at that — lashes fluttering in rapid succession, wondering if you heard him correctly. he doesn’t seem keen on elaborating, though. walking on, ignoring all snowflakes descending from the sky, eager to nuzzle in between his locks. his infinity keeps them out. 

”… why?”

it’s all you can say. all you can verbalize.

(in a story like this, why would the brightest star of all orbit around someone like you?)

gojo gives you another glance. his iris cuts into your skin, observes you on what you’re sure must be a molecular level. he lets silence linger, for a moment, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

gray, and more gray. flecks of white. you’d see the same thing he does. 

”hmm…” he lets out a breath, head falling forward again, snowy strands ghosting against the skin of his forehead. ”let’s call it a trade.”

another series of blinks. 

gojo turns towards you, then — a fresh grin blooming on his lips. white teeth, pink gums. it makes him look boyish, innocent, just another city boy with too much time on his hands.

”i buy you snacks — and you tell me what music you’re always listening to.” he bends his body forward, tilts his head at the same time, all lanky and charming, like a big cat. ”deal?”

you stay silent.

he’s looking at your headphones, still left neglected around your neck. your gaze falls down to the icy concrete, the thin layer of frost, waiting to be melted by the first sunrays of spring. whenever that will be. 

geto and shoko are still behind you — you can hear their low, muffled chatter, smell the remnants of tobacco in the air. and you swear you can practically hear geto’s words, echoing through your head.

(why do you think that is?)

gojo is still looking at you. expectantly, lips curled up into a lazy smile. he’s waiting, you know he is, and you also know he isn’t very good at that. you know a lot of things — what you don’t know is what to say. you don’t know if you can believe in whatever geto was insinuating, don’t know if you can grapple with your own longing to do so. 

(next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?)

geto doesn’t get it. he doesn’t know what your feelings towards gojo truly look like. doesn’t know that what’s on your mind when he’s around is always something horrifically embarrassing. something like, i want to know more about you, or maybe i wish i could tell you more about me. something awfully cheesy, like — i’m jealous of how bright you shine, but i can’t help but like you anyway. 

if i become your friend, would it be okay to say i understand your loneliness? that i notice it, even just by a fraction?

would that be okay with you?

(words that should be left unspoken.)

”… well, it’s not like you have to.” gojo exhales, again, the words a heavy weight seeping past his throat. his shoulders slump, as he turns forward, fingers trailing up to scratch at the back of his neck. 

all you can think is that he’s getting ready to leave. that nothing will change, at this rate, that spring will wash winter away. that geto should be more direct with his advice, and that if it’s not the music itself that gojo is interested in knowing more about, then surely —

” — i don’t listen to anything.”

gojo stills. the words have flown past your lips before you can reach out and grasp them, slicing through the open air.

he spins around, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose at the sudden motion, exposing his widened eyes. those white lashes, fluttering softly, like a pair of doves eager to get above ground. you grip onto the insides of your pockets, warm and cozy against your freezing hands — it grounds you, keeps you tethered down to earth, down to him. 

”music,” you continue, sputtering slightly, as if your lungs don’t quite know how to work under pressure. winter air seeps into your windpipe, cuts the skin there. ”i don’t listen to music.”

you lift your hands, fingers curling around the soft earmuffs wrapped around your neck, hesitantly meeting gojo’s gaze — an overlapping sequence, blanketing his view. then you’re gazing down. 

”it’s just… comforting,” you try to explain, speaking softly. ”to wear them. white noise.. tires me out, so…”

the sentence trails off, unfinished. you feel silly. silly for saying anything at all, for building it up so much. silly for being the way that you are.

but when you look up at gojo, he’s brightened like a star.

white teeth, pink gums, that breathtakingly boyish grin. his blue eyes gleam with colour, almost spilling over the corners, like watercolour paint on a too-small canvas. he tilts his head, looking at you carefully, as if truly seeing you for the first time; absently swaying side to side. 

if he had a tail, you’re sure it’d be wagging.  

”i see!”

a silent breath spills into the air. your lips part, but no sound comes out, only vapour; heart pumping blood through your writhing veins, warming you up from the inside, a co-conspirator to the heat blooming in your cheeks. gojo continues to speak.

”i guess that counts,” he nods, crossing his arms with a satisfied hum. ”alright. i’ll get you any snacks you want! you can be greedy, it’s okay.”

a murmur of thanks escapes you, although you’d like to tell him there’s no need. something tells you denying him this would be like taking another step backwards, in this budding connection between you.

(… if you can even call it that.)

geto and ieiri catch up to your unmoving figures, finally, and only then does gojo spin on his heel and pick up his previous pace. calling back to you over his shoulder, a smile you can’t see but still hear.

”just don’t give any of it to those two, yeah?”

”cheapskate,” ieiri calls back, lone cigarette hanging between her lips. geto lets out something like a chuckle, his shoulder brushing up against yours.

you watch gojo’s back as he moves forward. unbothered, untethered. you think of him a snowflake in the breeze.

spring is almost here, now. it’s a bittersweet feeling, to know your conversations during recess will surely dwindle out — but at least you’ll have had this. one normal conversation, the knowledge that he was curious about you, even if you may just be the classmate by the heater in his eyes.

you’re too cold to keep him warm all on your own, so there’s no helping it. you’re willing to accept that some stars only show from the surface during winter. 

you’re willing to accept this. it aches, a little, but you’ll be okay. 

”i’ll take it things went well, then?”

geto is wearing his signature smile, when you look up at him. an expression of carefully concealed composure, lips curled up, but a knowing look in his eyes — something that borders on teasing.

you give him a nod, a bow of your head, to silently convey your appreciation. chameleon or not, you don’t really mind his ways. it’s hard to fake the warmth in his voice, when he speaks.

”i’m glad.”

the two of you watch gojo’s back, like birds gazing out at a body of water. silence lingers.

”won’t that moron get cold?”

ieiri’s voice cuts through the mold of your mind, low and gravelly, right beside you. she’s pointing towards gojo — the flimsy jacket he’s wearing. 

you’re wondering the same thing.

geto casts her a glance over your head, before gazing down at you, seemingly noticing your curiosity. he lets out a low hum; reaching a hand out to brush away the snowflakes on his shoulders. 

”temperature,” he begins, slipping his hands into his pockets; that familiar coaching tone to his voice, purposefully slow. ”is just a measure of atoms in rapid motion.”

you tilt your head, in tandem with ieiri — looking to your classmate for further elaboration. he seems to enjoy your confusion, lips curling up just a bit. gojo calls out to you, in the distance, waving both his hands, and geto returns it with a wave of his own.

an amber eye flicks towards you, an explanation on his tongue. ”his infinity can regulate that motion.”

… another tilt of your head.

geto lets out an amused breath. it scatters out into the air, a cloud of smoke, almost a chuckle.

”basically…” he sighs. ”he does just fine, in the cold. don’t worry about it. he’ll keep himself warm.”

ieiri mutters something, beneath her breath, something like you could have just said no, but you don’t really hear it. you think your heart must have climbed up, somehow; got caught in your windpipe. 

ah.

gojo can keep himself warm.

the thought spins inside your mind, over and over, a realization that makes your inner palms feel clammy. stupid, silly, this pitter-patter of your heartbeat. but what else could it mean? if the cold doesn’t bother him, if he doesn’t run cold, then…

(he wouldn’t need it. he wouldn’t need it here, wouldn’t need it during recess, within the chilly walls of your classroom. he wouldn’t need it to stay warm.

gojo isn’t after your heater. if that’s true, then…)

…

you bury your nose in the soft wool of your scarf. breathing in the fading scent, vanilla and cinnamon, grounding you to earth, lingering in your nostrils. distracting you from the rush of warmth, that blooms in the frostbitten apples of your cheeks. 

as if sensing your thoughts, or maybe just noticing your embarrassed expression, geto laughs — soft and breathy, shoulders shaking to your left. you hear it, only nuzzling deeper into the comfort of your scarf. feeling your heartbeat spin out of orbit.

in the distance, gojo continues to wave, yelling out something unintelligible. you could mistake him for a star.

spring is almost here, now. in just a month or so, it’ll be at your doorstep — waltzing right in. 

(but you aren’t worried.)

[arolesbianism]

Good news I realized that there actually is a sekai character who could fit Mase while also having their own interesting spin on his story. Bad news the parent issue still exists. Good news I found a loophole to that. Bad news the loophole was remembering Mase wasn't adopted in a very legal manner. Anyways sorry An

[cold-kitty]

Remember the Yandere Neuvillette fic? Well you know that one meme that goes like "I have two sides"? That's how I am with Neuvillette. On one hand, I like to think of him as the sweet goober that was in that fic. On the other hand? Well...

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Contains: NSFW (not with darling), murder (not darling), Neuvillette is quite literally insane, Neuvillette is slightly rough with darling (not sexually), abuse of power, mentions of kidnapping, stealing darlings things, Neuvillette has masochistic tendencies

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Yan!Neuvillette who hires you as an assistant. you tidy up a bit, bring him things he needs, just normal things.

Yan!Neuvillette who stares at you, stares. he only works half of the day, the rest of that time is spent staring at you.

Yan!Neuvillette who will invite you to lunch everyday, insisting that he pays even though you want to. oh don't worry, it's not like it's a date. even though it should be...

Yan!Neuvillette who will steal your used napkins, spoons/forks/chopsticks, leftovers, anything that you've touched or put your mouth on.

Yan!Neuvillette who takes those things home with him, swiping the saliva off of them and is immediately tugging down his pants.

Yan!Neuvillette who is definitely physical with you. hugs, patting your head, hooking your arm in his, standing a little too close to you, etc.. but he's very insistent with it, and he doesn't care if you turn down the offer, it only makes him squeeze you harder than usual (which is abnormally hard for someone who's supposed to be platonic with you).

Yan!Neuvillette definitely swipes some of your clothes, gaslighting you that you didn't wear it. gloves? no silly, you didn't wear any.

Yan!Neuvillette who also finds the cologne you use, spraying it on all over his room, especially his pillow.

Yan!Neuvillette is a pillow fucker 100%, his pillow is constantly nestled between his plush thighs as his hips move feverishly against it.

Yan!Neuvillette who talks to his pillow, pretending it's you. begging it, whining with it, holding it as if it were a person. p-please love- ngh... please please please i wanna cum, please- darling please l-let me- hah- cum...

Yan!Neuvillette who has fantasies of you randomly bending him over his desk, ripping his clothes apart and absolutely ravaging him.

Yan!Neuvillette who has a certain ache for pain with you. slap him, kick him, hit him, bite him, strangle him, he'd even let you cut him for Christ's sake. make him bleed and cry, bruise him and make him sore. anything that you do is ecstasy for him, and he would love you to have power over him like that.

Yan!Neuvillette who goes batshit feral when you're affectionate with someone. teeth gritted, body twitching, eyes wide with rage, but he would never ever do anything to hurt you, so he simply slits the persons throat.

Yan!Neuvillette who will quite literally tweak the law just so he can have an advantage, making loopholes so he can legally kidnap you. the government doesn't even need to know, he'll just change it whenever he wants.

Yan!Neuvillette who will stop at absolutely nothing to have you, he'll kidnap you, blackmail you, threaten people you love, anything.

Yan!Neuvillette who - if pushed to this point - will accuse you of a crime and label you guilty, sentencing you to 'behavior correction' with him for the next year.

Yan!Neuvillette who really, really doesn't like the look on your face when he takes you to his home, as much as he likes having power over you, it makes him feel sick. you're crying, begging him to understand that you haven't done anything wrong, that you were framed.

Yan!Neuvillette who won't hurt you unless you try to run away, and even then it's only a few smacks on the back with a wooden paddle. he hates your tears.

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There are only two Yandere Neuvillette's (in my opinion), the sweet baby from the first fic, and whatever rabies infested rat this is.

~🐈‍⬛

[heliads]

Hello im so glad it’s open. Hiccup x reader when the reader is afraid of dragon and she is a Viking that try to not to be vulnerable and strong but hiccup could see right trough her. Sort of enemy to lovers (reader mostly) and the end Toothlees love her.

Thank you 🙏 😍🥰🥰

'we'll be brave together' - hiccup haddock

masterlist

Hiccup is returning from a wild dragon ride through the clouds when he realizes that he might finally know the secret of the bravest Viking Berk has ever seen.

It’s not like he’s the first one who’s tried to parse out the details of Y/N L/N. There’s hardly a soul in the village who hasn’t. Y/N has been the strongest of the strong, the fastest of the fast, ever since she started training. Everyone their age either wants to be her or beat her, and neither option is remotely reasonable.

Hiccup is no stranger to Y/N’s reputation. How could he not? She started training to fight dragons a year early, purely because it was so obvious she would be an asset to Berk that the elders couldn’t wait to put her out there. She’s been saving lives since she was small. Hiccup wouldn’t be surprised if her first words as a child were a rallying call to arms.

Courage inspires courage, but it’s impossible to see someone that naturally good at everything without trying to find some chink in the armor, a way, no matter how miniscule, to prove that they’re still human. Still like you. But no matter how hard people search, Y/N still seems relentlessly, impossibly perfect. Sure, she has her off days, just like anyone else, but she’s so good that it doesn’t even seem to matter. There has to be something off, but no one else can figure it out.

Except Hiccup, maybe. Probably not, but maybe. Hiccup’s no stranger to the maybes of the world. He’s proven quite a lot of them in his time. Maybe Hiccup, skinny, clumsy Hiccup, could manage to do well in the dragon fighting classes. Maybe he could save Berk from threats. Maybe he could do a decent job of governing a tumultuous group of Vikings on one of the most inhabitable rocks known to man. And maybe, just maybe, he could find the loophole in Y/N L/N’s otherwise flawless streak of victories.

Hiccup only gets the idea when he’s touching down from another dizzying flight. No matter how many times he and Toothless take to the skies, it never gets old. Somehow, each and every time Hiccup and his dragon leave the world behind, chase the stars, shoot the breeze, it feels like Hiccup’s very first time up in the air. The majesty never leaves him.

And so Hiccup was very reluctantly starting to plan out his landing when he saw Y/N below him. Ax in hand, she was probably coming back from yet another round in the training grounds, and judging by the cocky grin on her face, she’d probably been very triumphant yet again. She had a victorious bounce to her step, and as she headed back to her house, it seemed as if nothing could happen to break the young woman’s stride.

Nothing, that is, until Toothless swooped in low from the side, casting his shadow upon the ground where Y/N walked. She had done her best to hide it, but Hiccup had seen it– an uncontrollable flinch, a quick jerk of her head towards the sky to assess the threat, and then, so foreign to him that Hiccup almost wondered if he had mistook another girl for Y/N, a spark of fear in her eyes.

Fear. In Y/N L/N. It made no sense. Hiccup has never known Y/N to be afraid. Not even when facing off against Vikings twice her height. It’s as if the word has simply never entered her vocabulary. Yet the memory of Y/N’s reaction to the arrival of Toothless is burned into Hiccup’s memory as if by a brand. Yes, there’s no doubt about it. Y/N was afraid.

This should mean nothing at all. Berk, although recently accustomed to think of dragons in friendlier terms, has been an enemy of the scaly fliers for as long as Hiccup can remember. A recent change in their mindset would not substantially change their long term memory, which firmly cements dragons as a dangerous enemy. Of course anyone would flinch upon seeing a dragon suddenly emerge from the clouds, especially a Night Fury.

But Y/N isn’t just anyone. Now that he comes to think of it, Y/N has been rather separate from the rest of Berk regarding her reaction to dragons descending upon the village. She has yet to adopt a dragon, claiming that she’d rather prove her skill as a Viking by herself instead of needing to depend on a dragon to do the work for her. And back before Hiccup even crossed paths with Toothless at all, he has memories of Y/N during her dragon training days, how she used to completely lock down her emotions, facing the dragons when required but never so much as looking at them unless she absolutely had to do so.

It couldn’t be, yet it is. The more Hiccup thinks about it, the more he’s certain it’s true. Y/N is afraid of dragons. Not just Hiccup’s dragon, all dragons. Hiccup feels a sudden rush of sympathy for the woman. Although she’s as proud and brave as any, being around the thing she fears the most day in and day out must be taking a toll on her spirits.

And so, although it’s probably a terrible decision, Hiccup makes up his mind to help her as best he can. They’ve never really been friends, in fact, quite the opposite; Y/N was in accordance with the typical Berk mindset that Hiccup was a nuisance since he didn’t quite think like the rest of the Vikings, and they’ve clashed over that ever since. However, Hiccup remembers quite painfully what it was like to fear what everyone else seemed to embrace, and it’s a nasty feeling. Y/N doesn’t deserve to suffer through that, even if their relationship hasn’t always been the sunniest.

True to form, Y/N is glaring at him from the moment she opens her door to find Hiccup smiling awkwardly at her from the front step. “What do you want?” She asks crossly, making it obvious that she has far better things to do than entertain him.

Hiccup grins weakly. “I think I can help you.”

Y/N raises a dubious brow, taking an obvious glance over Hiccup. “You do? With what, philosophy?”

Hiccup forces a chuckle. “Maybe some other time. No, I’m talking about your, ah, dragon problem.”

If there was any doubt in Hiccup’s mind that Y/N was really afraid of dragons, it is completely erased from the moment he brings up the subject. Immediately, her entire expression ices over, but even as her glare sharpens in value, he spots something bright behind her mask, something like fear. She really doesn’t want anyone figuring out, does she?

Y/N glances around quickly to make sure no one could have possibly overheard, then quickly jerks her chin towards the inside of her house. “Fine. Come in.”

Inwardly, Hiccup cheers. He wasn’t entirely certain that she wouldn’t do something drastic to protect her secret, like stab him in the back or shove him into the sea. He still runs the risk of being poisoned, but he figures he’s safe from that so long as he doesn’t eat or drink anything while he’s here.

Once they’re both sitting opposite each other across her wooden table, Y/N fixes him with a steely gaze. “Start talking. How did you know that I–”

Her voice trails off, but Hiccup can guess she’s talking about her fear of dragons. “I only figured it out recently, honest. I had no idea until just now. No one would guess.”

“Yeah, I try to keep it that way,” Y/N remarks dryly. “But you could tell?”

“You don’t like Toothless,” Hiccup explains. “And yeah, he is a Night Fury, and that takes a little while to get over, but most people in the village consider him an ally by now.”

“Except me,” Y/N supplies, glancing towards the table.

“Yeah,” Hiccup agrees. “Except you. Plus, the hesitance to get a dragon of your own.”

“No Viking should accept a dragon unless they can defend themselves!” Y/N argues. “Otherwise, you’ll leave yourself stranded in case something happens. It would be a monumentally stupid risk to take.”

“I feel like that’s a really targeted comment,” Hiccup complains, “but yeah, even with that argument, it made sense once I connected the dots. You’re afraid of dragons.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow. “Did you just come here to hold that over me? What is this, blackmail?”

Not a fan of the way she’s eyeing the carving knife near her place at the table, Hiccup hastily raises his hands, feigning surrender. “Hey. Hey. No blackmail. That wouldn’t be very, uh, Viking of me. Where’s the strength in that? And you know I’m all about strength. And courage. Lots of courage. In fact, that’s why I came here today. I want to help you get over your fear.”

Y/N looks at him doubtfully, but at least she’s stopped inching her hand towards the carving knife. “You want to help me.”

“Yeah,” Hiccup replies earnestly, “I do. It’s better for all of us if we don’t have to feel like we’re hiding things. So? Will you let me help you?”

Y/N stares at him for a long time. At last, she jerks her head up and down in a sharp nod and says, “I will.”

Hiccup claps his hands together excitedly before pushing away from the table. “Perfect. I already have a first lesson in mind.”

Y/N looks substantially less inclined to trust him when she realizes that her first lesson involves getting to know Toothless on a far more personal level. “I thought we were going to ease into this. Like talking about it or something.”

Hiccup shakes his head. They’re both walking through the forest, crunching leaves and stepping over fallen boughs on their way to meet up with the Night Fury. “Not a chance. You don’t gain anything from talking. Besides, I figured you’re the kind of person who likes action over sitting around.”

“I do when it doesn’t involve dragons,” Y/N mutters from somewhere behind him.

Hiccup just grins. “You’ll like Toothless if you give him a chance, honestly.”

They emerge into a clearing. Toothless is curled up in the center, soaking in the sunlight. Immediately, Y/N freezes behind him. Now that she doesn’t have to try and hide from him, Hiccup can see firsthand how bad her fear truly is. Y/N’s eyes are wide, and her breath seems caught in her throat. She seems unable to move a single step.

Hiccup comes back to her side. “Do you trust me?” He asks plainly.

“I think,” she whispers back, her eyes still firmly fixed on the resting dragon in front of her.

“That’s fine,” Hiccup tells her. “At least believe me when I say there’s absolutely no chance that I’d let you get hurt. It would look awful if a chieftain’s son got his best fighter killed by his own dragon, wouldn’t it? You know it’s my responsibility to lead Berk, do you really think I’d risk my popularity by getting you murdered?”

“I trust that,” she admits, and lets Hiccup lead her further into the clearing, until she’s right in front of the dragon.

Sensing visitors, Toothless pokes his head up, exhaling a soft snort from his nose. Y/N flinches back from the movement, but to her credit, she doesn’t try to run.

“This is Y/N,” Hiccup tells Toothless. “You two are going to get to know each other, alright?”

Toothless regards Y/N with faint curiosity. Hiccup reaches out and presses a quiet hand to the dragon’s snout. “Now it’s your turn, alright?” He tells Y/N.

Y/N shakes her head quietly. “There’s no way I’m touching the dragon.”

“He’s not going to hurt you,” Hiccup promises. “Come on, we’ll do it together.”

He takes his hand away from Toothless’ snout and presses his palm against the top of Y/N’s hand. Slowly, carefully, he moves their hands together until they’re both resting against Toothless’ snout. Y/N breathes out once, a great sigh, but doesn’t move. Carefully, Hiccup takes his hand away, and then it’s just Y/N and the dragon. Toothless leans slightly forward into the touch. Hiccup waits for something to happen, for Y/N to flinch away again or give in to her fear, but instead, a shaky smile crosses her face.

“He’s nice,” she says.

Hiccup pulls a face. “He’s only trying to impress you.”

Even his feigned irritation can’t last for long. At the sight of the quiet joy on Y/N’s face, Hiccup can’t help but smile as well.

“What’s my next lesson?” Y/N asks.

“Flying,” Hiccup says. “Do you feel ready for that?”

Y/N glances back towards him, a cross look on her face. “I’m a Viking. I’m ready for anything.”

She laughs, though, and so does he. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Hiccup climbs onto Toothless, then extends a hand to help Y/N up as well. Toothless, to his credit, is quite gentle when going airborne, although Y/N still holds tight onto Hiccup just in case. He’s not sure that he minds, though. She doesn’t, either, because she keeps holding onto him, even after the flying turns smooth, even after the colors around them flit from saturation to saturation, as clouds frost their vision and the air grows cold from height.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Y/N announces as they soar over the sea. “Nothing about this is scary. I can’t believe I waited this long to figure that out.”

“It grows on you, doesn’t it?” Hiccup remarks. “All of a sudden, it’s the only thing you want to do.”

“Yeah,” Y/N says. “Exactly like that.”

When he looks back at her, Y/N’s expression is soft and sweet. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her like this, unafraid to be vulnerable, to let her real self shine through. 

“Thanks for helping me,” she says quietly.

“Any time,” Hiccup promises, and he realizes he means it.

She smiles. “You have to be careful, I might take you up on that offer.”

Hiccup meets her gaze, and finds nothing but happiness there. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Below them, the waves surge, and the birds swoop. They fly on forever.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

disney tag list: @avadakadabra93, @blondsauduun, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @faerieroyal, @goldfish4403

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter III

It's late, and the last thing I expect to find at my nightly workout is my little bro, dressed up like a personal trainer. He looks ridiculous in that cheesy uniform, not to mention the light pouring out of his skull and the smile stamped into his face! I guess the little idiot signed up for Moonlight™: that was one helluva mistake!

"Good evening, sir," my brother speaks as if we hadn't grown up together, "Is there any way I can aid your fitness journey tonight?"

Hearing Ryan call me 'sir' brings a devious grin to my own face. I've bullied this kid for years, and now he's kissing my ass like well-trained puppy. Thanks to Moonlight™, my annoying little bro is just a mind controlled employee who doesn't realize his brother's here, let alone embarrassing him! I wish I could get my entire family implanted with these little Moonlight™ things. Messing with them would be hilarious!

"Oh yeah," I sneer, "And what's string bean gonna do for a guy like me?"

"Well, sir, as a personal trainer here at Planet Fitness, I'll gladly demonstrate how to use the machines, spot patrons with heavy-lifting, and return equipment when finished."

God, he sounds even more annoying than usual! "You really think a someone like you could spot me?" I scoff and bring my bicep to his face, flexing it inches away from his perpetually open eyes.

"Actually, sir, this body can lift 260 lbs on the bench press without injury. The load you have is well-enough below to ensure that I may be of service. Still sir, the weight you're lifting is a very respectable amount," Ryan's smile beamed at me, but mine fell.

"Whatever, I'll be fine," I retort, "Just stand over there and mop up my sweat when I'm done."

"Yes, sir."

My little brother takes a step back as I get ready to lift. As stupid as he looks, standing there waiting on me to finish, he also looks pretty fit. His company polo might be sweaty and gross, but it's tight against his improving physique. He's clearly been lifting a lot while he's been working here, but his gains should not count if Moonlight™ is the one actually working out that pathetic little body! The only way he could bulk up was by becoming a fucking puppet! Talk about sad!

"Fuck!" I grunt, tossing the barbell back as I finish. I did a few extra sets to prove a point and now my arms are on fire. "Towel!" I snap.

"Yes, sir," Ryan rushes over and wipes the sweat off my brow. I just laugh in his face.

"I think I got some sweat on my sneakers too," I jab, "You can wipe them off and then put twenty more pounds on the bar."

"Of course, sir."

My brother gets on his knees with the towel, giving my sneakers a cursory buff. I don't know what personal trainer has shoe-shining in his job description, but I've heard these Moonlight™ employees can be pretty pliant. Apparently, you can make them do quite a bit with the loopholes in their programming. Maybe I can get Ryan here to do something even more embarrassing than polishing his big bro's shoes!

The next week, I worked out every night.

Turns out, bullying my little bro was great motivation to go to the gym! When I saw him during the day, I never mentioned the fact that I knew; didn't want to scare him off. At night, I had every opportunity to take out my frustrations on him. If he pissed me off during the day, I could boss him around at the gym, ordering him to follow me around and wipe down every piece of equipment. I could call him whatever names I wanted and yell at him as loudly as I pleased; he had to just stand there with the best customer service smile and say "yes, sir."

Playing around with Ryan was fun, but it wasn't until I went out for a drink that I ran into my second brother. I guess he had the same idea to get hired with Moonlight™...

"Can I fix you a drink, sir?" my brother, the middle child, yells over the club's EDM.

"What the hell?" I shout, "Ryan's dumb enough to Moonlight™, but I didn't think you were!"

Sam just stares back with the same flashlight eyes and widely stretched lips. Of course his programming won't let him do anything outside of bartending! He's probably not even conscious in there! Ryan was always a bit of an impulsive twerp, so I wasn't surprised to see him Moonlighting™, but Sam is different. He'd said he'd never put his body to work at night. Something about the behavior of Moonlighters™ always rubbed him the wrong way...I guess he changed his mind.

"A round of beers," I tell him, warily gesturing to the back corner, "For me and our crew."

Sam's glowing stare looks over my shoulder and sees our friends, the guys we both hang out with, "Yes, sir. I'll have it right out for you."

I return to our pals, anxious for my brother to follow. Sam is only a year younger than myself, so we run around with the same crowd, yet he didn't recognize any of our buds. Now he's about to serve them like a fucking waiter. My catatonic brother is about to walk into the most humiliating situation of his life. I just get to sit back and watch!

"Sam?" one of them asks a moment later.

"Here are your beers, sir," my brother plucks the bottles off his tray and sets them out for each of his friends, completely oblivious to their stunned reactions, "Is there anything else I can get any of you?"

"Holy crap, dude!" another pal turns to me, "Since when did your brother start Moonlight? He looks like a total idiot!"

Sam doesn't seem to register the insult.

"I don't know man," I laugh, "Tonight, I guess."

"Fetch us some napkins," one guy quips with an amused flick of his hand.

"Right away, sir." Sam answers a little too promptly, and whisks away.

"Right away, sir, Ha!" the guy repeats with a mock salute, "We've gotta mess with him!"

Sam returns, obediently passing out napkins, but I'm finding it harder to meet his gaze while he's grinning so manically. This situation is starting to feel more awkward than hilarious. These guys will never let him live this down!

"Sam, get over here and give this paying customer a sloppy BJ!"

My brother stiffens, and for a second a jolt of fear runs down my spine, terrified that Moonlight™ will actually make him comply. Pranks are all good and fun, but I do not want to see my brother about to blow another dude!

"I apologize, sir," he finally resumes, "That is not part of my responsibilities as bartender."

Thank God.

"Then get something to clean this up," he laughs wildly, "You spilled my beer!" Our friend then pours half his drink on the crotch of his jeans, staring at Sam with the amused eyes of a drunk fool. This guy always gets weird after a few drinks. I don't know why we still bring him along. Normally, we just ignore him.

"Of course, sir," Sam answers attentively.

For the next ten minutes, I sit in silent horror as my brother returns with a rag, proceeding to get on his knees and wipe down another man's crotch with painful dedication. Of course, our friends are all howling with laughter at this point, taking video evidence that they can embarrass Sam with later.

It feels like a lifetime, but Sam finally stands up, "I hope I cleaned that up well enough for you, sir."

The guy feels at his wet jeans, saying, "I don't know if that's good enough, bitch."

"I'm sorry, sir, let me try ag-"

"No! It's my turn," someone else cuts in, pushing his way to the front, "You spilled some on my ass that needs cleaned up!"

The gang loses it, doubling over with laughter as Sam prepares to spend the next ten minutes wiping down another guy's ass, but I've had enough, "No! We're done here, thank you. Go close our tab," I bark.

"Yes, sir," Sam turns on his heel. His dumb obedience is more disturbing than entertaining at this point.

Our friends all give me a hard time for sending him away, but I'm not having it. Maybe I'm not drunk enough, but they're enjoying this a lot more than I am. At this point, I'm ready to call it a night and go home, so I say my goodbyes and head for the exit.

The walk home isn't a far one, but I pass a few notable places on the way: one being my dad's dark office building. Our old man has been working late nights there lately. In the dimly lit lobby, I recognize someone...

"Dad?" I gasp.

"Good evening, sir," my father says to me without any note of familiarity in his voice.

"Wait, you're moonlighting too?" it comes out as more of an accusation, but at this point I'm fed up with finding family members secretly working random mind-controlled night jobs.

"I am a security guard employed through the Moonlight™ corporation," his gravelly voice sounds foreign, delivering these programmed prompts, "If you'd like, sir, I can help you apply for a Moonlight™ position, and you can start making the most of your sleeping hours too!"

"Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea, dad?" I ask, knowing this stupid security guard persona isn't capable of answering.

"He didn't."

The voice of someone else in the room sends shivers down my spine. I whip around, and see a gangly, middle-aged man stepping forward.

"Jeff?"

"Hi, Jamie," my uncle says, sauntering up to his far taller brother and resting an arm on his shoulder. My dad's attentive posture doesn't waver. He just keeps on acting like the perfect sentry for the building and the perfect armrest for his brother.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on!?"

He sniffles and sighs like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Yes, I suppose this charade of mine was doomed to be found out sooner or later. I put your father in the Moonlight™ database. He was just wasting his sleeping hours at home in his bed, and he'd always refuse to let me sign him up, so I did it in secret. He makes a great guard. Right Tom?"

Uncle Jeff claps my dad on the back, prompting him to announce a proud, "Yes, sir!"

"See," my uncle turns back to me, "No harm done. Your old man gets paid to stand around in his sleep. Its harmless!"

"But he doesn't know!" I yell, seething at my uncle's sheer abuse of his place in the company, "This has to be illegal, and are you just pocketing Dad, Ryan, and Sam's salaries?"

He rolls his eyes, "I am right now, but the four of you don't even make that much."

"Did you just say the four of us?" I grunt.

"Oops," he holds a hand to his forehead and curses under his breath.

"AM I FUCKING MOONLIGHTING WHILE I SLEEP TOO?" I am screaming at this point, "You're fucked up!" I bark. Angrily, I stomp towards my uncle, but my father takes a firm step planting himself between me and the man. His steady palm is holding the baton at his belt, making me nervous. Is my dad about to beat me up for this creep?

"Excuse me, sir," my dad smiles at my uncle, "Would you like me to escort this man out of the building?"

"That won't be necessary," my uncle says, "I'll just trigger his Moonlight™ shift to start now. You can go back to standing in the corner"

"Yes, sir," my security guard father answers placidly, returning to his attentive stance.

"You wouldn't," I snarl.

"Oh, trust me, I will. As I understand it, overriding a subject's body while awake means you'll be fully conscious. I'll work on something to make you forget this whole incident later."

He presses a few buttons on an ipad, and suddenly my vision is engulfed in a purple haze. My back straightens, my muscles relax, and I feel my face contorts into a giant smile. Suddenly, my entire body seems to be gone from my grasp, and I'm constrained to a tiny space in my head while something else takes over.

"Enjoy your shift," my uncle snickers with a glare.

"Thank you, sir. I will," I feel my voice pushed out of my throat with an excited tone that isn't mine. Before I know it, my legs are carrying me away from my uncle, leaving him with my father, to march down the dark street...

"Here's your order, sir," my voice has the trademarked Moonlight™ eagerness in it as I reach out the window and hand over the meal.

"Fuck off, sleep-freak!" the teen in the driver's seat flips me off, making his immature friends cackle as they speed off. I can't do anything but smile and watch as they weave away. They have no idea I'm actually conscious in here.

After being forced to leave my uncle, I found myself striding into a fast food restaurant through its backdoor. I could instantly tell the place wasnt anywhere I'd eat at because the dumpster smelled like soggy fries and old meat. The kitchen was a fluorescent-lit pit, with a thick feeling of oil hanging in the air. I could barely take in the surroundings before I was changing out of my clothes by some lockers. I was horrified that Moonlight™ was making me fucking strip, but before long my hands were pulling on new clothes: a uniform. The polo felt like it'd been sitting at the bottom of the locker since the last shift, drying in sweat, and the pants were sticky with something unidentifiable. I was mortified to be pulling on a fucking hairnet and apron, but I had no choice.

"Blondie's here early," a smoker's voice purred from behind me. I had a bad feeling he'd been standing there for a while, watching.

"Hello boss," my voice answers, apparently recognizing the overweight, unshaved creep, "I'm ready to start my shift, sir! Where am I needed today?"

I watched as the man licked his stubbly lips, his beady eyes crawling all over me. Without any shame, his sweaty palm groped the growing bulge in his khakis. He was obviously happy to see me, and he probably thought I couldn't actually see him! I guess, every fucking night that my uncle's made me work in my sleep, I've been under the supervision of THIS pervert!?

"Get to the fryer," his scratchy throat moaned, "You know I want you to get nice and sweaty for later."

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to work up a sweat for you," I answer, confused and disturbed by my response. The cheer in my voice did not match the overwhelming gloom I felt when the man slapped my ass. His hand lingered on my rear for too long, but I couldn't even frown.

Since then, I've been boiling fries and flipping burgers. Every so often I have to hand an order out the window, but my heart races every time I do. Three orders ago, the customer threw their soda back at my coworker, he's a fairly average guy in his thirties, and he was dowsed in Coca-Cola. It didn't keep Moonlight™'s programming from working: he just kept manning the grill, smiling, eyes glowing, and hair dripping with cherry flavored juice.

"Ouch!" at least, that's what I want to say. The oil sizzles and pops, and a few drops of hot grease splatter onto my arm, but I don’t flinch. The control won’t let me.

Suddenly I feel someone leaning in behind me. My spine shivers as my manager says, "It's closing time, Blondie. I'll send everyone home so you and I can clean up like usual." He whispers it in my ear, with his flabby arms wrapped around me like we're fucking lovers! I wish I could vomit!

"Sounds good, boss," I find myself saying.

One by one, the manager dismisses each of my moonlighting coworkers. I can't help but feel jealous as they strip out of their uniforms by the door. It isn't just that they get to leave; they also have the luxury of not knowing what's going on. They're all asleep. I'd give anything to at least be unaware of whatever this fucking pervert is about to do!

My body is preoccupied with whatever shit needs to be done for closing, wiping down the tables, taking out the trash, and more.

"Mop time," the manager suddenly announces, holding the raggedy thing out expectantly.

"Yes, sir," my voice answers, and I drop what I'm doing to accept the mop. The crotch of his pants is unzipped, but my bodies already turned away from him, turning all my attention to swab the tiles floor.

"You're doing it wrong again, Blondie," he purrs slowly, "I'm gonna have to help you like usual."

"Thank you, sir," my voice sounds grateful, but I am anything but. The pervert presses his rotund body against my back and holds my muscular arms with his own chubby ones. I can feel his penis poking into me below his gut, but my body accepts his touch like he's just a boss helping out an employee.

I guess this asshole found a loophole in Moonlight™'s fucking programming. He's going to touch me all he wants under the guise of demonstrating the right way to mop.

The creep spends the next ten minutes guiding my arms back and forth. "Fuck, you're bubble butt feels even better than usual, Blondie," he breathes in my ear. If I had control of my muscles, he wouldn't stand a chance, but right now, they're putty in my boss's arms. Meanwhile, his waist gets busy dry humping his chode into my rear end. "I'm so glad a jock like you was dumb enough to try Moonlight!" he grunts, his tongue dangerously close to my ear. I can only thank God that he can't take my pants off! After several painful minutes of him spitting more disgusting comments onto my cheek, his arms drop mine and plant themselves on my chest. His hands sloppily grope my pecs and pinch my nipples. I've never felt more pathetic. The man makes one final exclamation, "FUUUCK!" and I can tell he has finally gotten off.

"Thanks for the help, boss," I find myself saying.

With heavy breaths, he staggers back. The sudden open air on my back makes me realize just how hot and sweaty that slob was, and I can feel the slimy remnants of his balls slipping down my back and legs.

"Good job as always, Blondie," he breathes heavily with satisfaction.

"Thank you, sir," I answer. My voice hasn't lost its awful chipper quality, and my face is still stuck in a smile like I hadn't just been taken advantage of.

"Finish mopping up, and then you can lock up and clock out," he winks as if we shared some inside joke. I hate that all he sees is my smile.

"Yes, sir," I answer, but the creep has already waddled out of the building and slammed the door shut.

The sudden silence is unbearable. It makes the monotonous task of mopping the sticky floors all the more unpleasant. What's worse is that I can't pause to wash the manager's cum off my back. It soaks into my pants as I work, trapped in my own body. At least I know why these pants are so sticky. Honestly, I hope Uncle Jeff will wipe my memory...

[amourcheol]

filmbro-zoned (teaser)

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

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

w o r d c o u n t : 1k for teaser (approx 20k words for full fic)

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

w a r n i n g s : loosely inspired by watching the detectives, film major! vernon who owns an outdated film store, mc is the baddest (but also the craziest) bitch in this fic, vernon is a loser, film major! mingyu who will be violated many times in this fic sorry king, mentions of many filmbro films which will also be violated, self-indulgent mentions of some of my favourite films, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual sex because im fearing god today, barbenheimer reference <3

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

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @hiraethmae @lllucere @intoanothermind @kokoiinuts

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : who would have thought i'd be writing a college au huh...alice will never let me live this down...also guys once again so sorry for constantly posting this hopefully i have found a way for the loophole...let us see if this teaser gets shown in the tags...

“WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON WOLF OF WALL STREET, AMERICAN PSYCHO, PULP FICTION…FIGHT CLUB, SAVING PRIVATE RYAN, SCARFACE…”

You squinted at the list, finding the names neverending. “Jeez, this list keeps going, huh?” 

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

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

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

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

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

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for minding his business.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What master plan?”

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

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

[abbyshands]

🇵🇸 LINKS | before engaging !!! | click before you fic ♡ | m. list | join my tag list!

do me a favour by am makes me think about loser!abby, smoker, drank alcohol, shitty grades, who you were irrevocably enamored by. you were popular, a pretty girl, but smart, witty, kind, fun. you could usually find abby buried in an alleyway of your college, cigarette perched in her lips. playing it off like she didn’t have a care in the goddamn world. and usually? she didn’t. but there was a loophole, always was: and it was you. she fell for you by accident when you were paired for a project in one of your classes. she figured she would hate you: you were a part of a group of people who bullied her senseless on a daily basis. you weren’t proud of it, but you had to admit it: your friend group of popular, rich girls could be pretty goddamn snobby. but when you and abby’s first meet ended in a makeout session, she knew it wasn’t going to be what she had envisioned. but there was one more issue: her. abby anderson didn’t get fucking feelings for people. the only thing she’d shown love to in this world up to this point was a bottle of bourbon. the only closeness she had when it came to a human aside from her, was the drug shop clerk who sold her cigarettes once every few weeks. abby loser anderson, falling for a pretty girl? what a fucking joke. she capped it when she began to feel it: her feelings beginning to spill out of her, too much, too soon. and maybe she should keep them bottled up forever. she was feeling this thing for you, this utterly repulsive emotion she couldn’t get a grasp on. and all her life, she had heard a word, a word hurled around like it was candy. and it began with an “l,” didn’t take a genius to know it, but, god, it just couldn’t be that. so abby breaks it off. you say whatever, despite your hurt feelings. and you move on. sometimes, she wished you had been the one to end it. then, she wouldn’t feel so fucking guilty. guilt. guilt. guilt. she had fucked up. done it, lost you, and how could she? she’s back at your door weeks later. a girl who isn’t you answers it, and she knows she’s fucked up now. done it, lost you, she had done it. and she wasn’t sure if she could undo it. you come up behind the girl who’s lips had just been on yours, ushering her out of the way, and you cross your arms as you look at abby. her eyes have bags. she looks like she hasn’t been to sleep in weeks. and her face is solemn. you frown. she indulges, gives into the feelings she’s been bottling up for eons. and she spills it, voices all you had needed to hear from her … three weeks ago. that she loved you, that she needed you. you tell her, honest, fuck off. because if she really loved you? she would have come to her senses a long time ago. you had forgotten. you were moving on. and by now, all things considered? perhaps fuck off might be too kind.

adding in this lyric as well: “curiosity becomes a heavy load, too heavy to hold, too heavy to hold,” abby didn’t know shit about what it meant to love somebody else: to give your heart to them, and only them, in full. she didn’t understand this desire to go on dates, you by her side. or to hear your voice, your laugh, see you smile, be the one to make you smile. she didn’t understand what she was feeling for you. someone so perfect, someone too good for her. and so, when she could’ve just made a point to understand her feelings, she shut down instead. and at what cost? she wanted to make an effort, but now, it was too late. you were too far gone for apologies, meaningless words. it’s always been said that curiosity killed the cat. and abby anderson, was the embodiment.

a/n; wanna make this into an ongoing series so if any songs cross your pretty minds in regards to that ,, please let me know ♡

divider creds !

[dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Healing factor:

Wade versus Logan (Deadpool v. Wolverine)

L

My husband and I were talking about this. He made good points:

Logan has a healing factor

Wade had a restorative factor

(Spoilers for movies below)

Wade—

Wade sought out his mutant ability to stop his cancer, right? Well, his power is to restore him to the same physical state he was at the time his mutant ability activated. That’s why he can regenerate his body.

Sinister tried to replicate or clone Wade and couldn’t. His power went nuts without the cancer to balance it out. His power is linked to his cancer. His cancer is never gone as a mutant and this aspect has been shown so many times.

Logan—

Logan, as far as the comics, tv shows, and movies show, can only heal. He cannot regenerate body parts. I mean, there is that one version that’s missing an eye, okay? He only heals.

His body literally pushes out bullets the direction they entered into his body. He can drown. He can be stabbed. He can be poisoned ((Old Man) Logan, movie). It takes a lot to kill Logan.

Aging—

As far as I understand, the aging aspect of Wade and Logan is different too.

Logan can age. His mutant powers functioning are based on his age. His enhanced senses, strength, claws, and such are influenced with his age. His reflexes are slower due to his age [and poisoning in (Old Man) Logan (movie)].

The exception is if he is “killed”, like in X-men Future Days Past (movie). He was drowned, and when everything changed and he was found, he was the same age as when he died. There’s loopholes. This could be a movie thing and not a mutant thing.

I don’t know if that’s the same in the comics since I haven’t kept up with xmen in a while in the comics.

Wade, due to his restorative healing, cannot age (in theory).

In the comics due to his romance with Death and Thanos’ jealousy, he makes Deadpool immortal so he can never be with Death. I don’t think that truly worked but you get the point. If he wasn’t basically immortal before, he was at one point.

[rapz-rites]

Hearts

Damian Wayne x Reader

You and your soulmate can feel each other's heartbeat 

A/N: for @thesuperiorrobin btw I started writing this super late at night so it might not be the best but I hope you all like this

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warning(s): Barely proofread, loophole cursewords

You jolted up from your sleep. 4 times a week, 3 if you’re lucky. Like clockwork. Your soulmate's heart beats so fast, so hard, it wakes you up. You would think he was having a heart attack. 

You don’t know what your soulmate does that gets his heart beating so fast in the middle of the night. You found this whole heartbeat soulmate thing so stupid. Of all the things you and your soulmate had to share, a heartbeat, seriously?

On everyone’s 10th birthday, they start “sharing” their soulmate's heartbeat. It's not really sharing though, so you didn't understand why they explained it that way. Probably to romanticize it. 

You couldn’t go back to sleep until about 4am. But that didn’t matter because your alarm went off 2 hours later. You hated your life. Not only did you get no sleep because of your stupid soulmate but you had to get ready for school, a school filled with pompous a-holes. Luckily it was your last year and you only had a few more months left until you graduated.

~

You walk into class late, everyone looking up at you. Luckily for you, your teacher is nice enough to let it slide. 

“Hey” you said to the boy you usually sat by. His name was Damian, Damian Wayne. Yup. As in Billionaire “playboy” Bruce Wayne.

“What now L/N?” He asked. He looked up at you with an annoyed expression. Damn. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. 

“Do you think you could help me with number 5?” You looked at him with pleading eyes. “Pretty please.”

“Sure.” And he did. You didn’t really need help, you just wanted to bother and talk to Damian. 

The two of you were close acquaintances but not friends. He was you favorite pompous rich a-hole and you were one the most tolerable people at GA to Damian

After this class you were done. You were transferring books to and from your backpack when your best friend, Lienne, pulled up next to you. 

“What are you doing after school? Do you want to have a sleep-” If you didn’t stop her now it would turn into an investigation.

“I’m working at the clinic after school, but I can come over after and we can have a sleepover all you want,” you smiled at her.

“Ok. See you after work. Oh, and bring those chips I like please,” she says walking away. You chuckled at her.

You worked at a pet shop clinic. You loved it. You weren’t a people person, you were a pet person. I loved cats, dogs, and hamsters. Any domestic house pet you could get your hands on, you loved it. They were so much easier to deal with than people. 

You were peacefully playing with a hamster while it was quiet in the store. Suddenly 2 men rush in. You put the hamster back in its cage and turned to the 2 men. They both looked like they were freaking out.

“We need your help! Like it's an emergency,” the tall one said. He had jet black hair and a white streak at the front. Then the second one spoke up.

“It’s our brother's cat,” the other one said. He was shorter, maybe 5’10/11. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He handed you an adorable little tuxedo cat. You couldn’t help but awe at it.

“Sure, what happened? Our vet is currently busy, but I can check him out and get him to see him as soon as possible.” you walked them into an exam room in the clinic. As you were assessing the cat, your boss walked in. 

“What's going on here?” He asked. You explained what happened and gave your assessment of the cat to your boss. He complimented you on your good work and took over. You were happy until you felt a strain on your heart. Something was wrong with your soulmate. It felt like he was having a panic attack or something. You went to the front of the store to sit down. You were trying to steady your heartbeat to cancel his out. But of course as you sat down, someone walked in. It was none other than Damian Wayne.

“Where’s Alfred? Where’s my cat?” he asked. You walked up to him to get his attention. You were holding onto his arm while he was looking around frantically.

“Your cat? Is he a tuxedo cat?” He immediately looked down at you. “You’ve seen Alfred? Where is he?”

“Your brothers brought him in,” you explained to him calmly. You were already trying to calm your soulmate’s heartbeat and now you have to calm a frantic billionaire son. He was spouting nonsense you didnt want to listen to while you ushered him to a chair.

“Listen Wayne,” you said, shutting him up. “Your brothers brought him in. I assessed him and the vet is now with him. He's going to be fine”

You could tell your words helped, but he was still anxious. It was kinda cute that he cared this much for a cat. One time you saw him roll his eyes at a school assembly about suicide. But he was still breathing heavily. At this point your heartbeat was calm but you could still feel your soulmate’s fast heart.

You took Damian’s hand and put it over your heart, and you did the same to him. That's when you felt it. People who already met their soulmates said once you know it's this indescribable, thrilling feeling. They were right. It was like time stopped and nothing else mattered. Your hearts synced and that's all you both felt. You both stared into each other’s eyes. You opened your mouth to speak but was interrupted. 

“Are we interrupting something?” The tall brother asked. You quickly moved back from Damian, putting your hands at your side.

“Yes”

“No”

You both spoke in unison. You looked at him, but he was glaring at his brothers.

“So what did Dr. Goldwin say?” you asked, smiling before it got awkward.

~

“OMG OMG OMG!” Lienne squealed, jumping around her room. “YOUR SOULMATE IS DAMIAN WAYNE.”

You weren’t surprised at her reaction when you told her. She always had a knack for the dramatics. As she was jumping around, spouting how beautiful your wedding was going to be, you got a text from your “future husband”.

Damian ☹️: Hello Y/N

                    Let’s go out on a date Saturday

                    Send me your address and I'll pick you up at 2pm

Y/N : I’d love to go out with you 😉

You’ll tell Lienne once she calms down. She's going to freak.

So… what do you think???

I’m working on request so plz don’t think I forgot abt those.

[princessbrunette]

driving with rafe… the playlist ♡

rafe refusing to let you connect to the aux, playing these instead, just passenger princess things!

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

♡ travis scott etc — nightcrawler

♡ future — i serve the base

♡ frank ocean — novacane

♡ future, the weeknd — low life

♡ tee grizzley, 21 savage — loophole

♡ ca$h out — she twerkin

♡ 50 cent, neyo — baby by me

♡ roy woods, drake — drama

♡ the weeknd — the party & the after party

♡ justin timberlake, T.I — my love

♡ gunna, drake — p power

♡ a$ap rocky — L$D

♡ brent faiyaz — role model

♡ james blake, travis scott — mile high

♡ frank ocean — swim good

[shepherds-of-haven]

you went hard with this year's halloween costumes .... pls riel as chatgpt made me laugh so much 😭 BUT !!! i screamed BC I KNEW I WASN'T THE ONLY ONE who had to think of nasubi when talking about halek .... now that we're talking about it though, how do you think all of the characters would react if they were put into a situation like that? personally, i think halek and chase would perform best — halek bc duh, chase bc i think he'd find some kind of loophole and rig the whole thing

Oooh good question! So to recap for everyone, "Nasubi" was a young man who was challenged to stay alone in a tiny, windowless apartment, naked, to see how long he could survive on sweepstakes winnings (aka writing in to magazine contests and sweepstakes and living off of the prizes they sent him in the event that he won). He wasn't allowed to leave the apartment until he accrued 1,000,000 yen's worth of prizes, a task which ultimately took him about 355 days to do. (He was also being filmed the whole time, but thought it was a recording for an eventual TV show and was unaware he was being live-streamed 24/7 to 30 million people... but we'll leave that part of this scenario for now.)

Blade: he would never have agreed to do this in the first place, but if he were forced to... he would have escaped and probably slaughtered some producers on his way out within the first hour

Trouble: he could do it!!! he'd probably cook up ingenious ways to game the system and find the most efficient way of getting prizes quickly. He'd probably just do it to see if he could do it.

Tallys: no. nothing is worth her dignity. but if she were forced to, she'd probably be able to play the long waiting game and could spend an indefinite amount of time in there in solitude. She'd probably find it relaxing! Like a meditation retreat!

Shery: she could do all of this except the nudity part. The nudity would make her exceptionally uncomfortable and she'd either beg to leave immediately or would never agree to the challenge to begin with. If forced, she'd probably spend a lot of time fashioning makeshift clothes for herself and might accidentally starve first lol

Riel: no. no. no. no. no. he would never agree to this, and if he were forced, he'd spend exactly one hour scheming the worst kind of revenge before immediately escaping and setting about making every person who was involved in this project suffer horrendously

Chase: he would agree to this for a lark, but would probably get bored and insanely starved of human contact (and distraction) by like the 5th day in. I can't predict him making it longer than a week before all of his pent-up energy popped like a firecracker and he burst out of the room (but like in a cool, unbothered way...) like a rabid animal

Red: he could do it! I think he'd handle it a lot like Nasubi lol but he'd be able to get through the whole trial with most of his sanity and dignity intact! He'd immediately turn his formidable mind to maximizing the efficiency of winning the prizes... and he'd probably spend a little time writing like a dissertation or something on the side LOL, like an academic retreat!

Ayla: she'd basically be like Chase, she'd say she could do it and would agree to the challenge just to prove she could do it, but she would get so bored and cranky that it would quickly lose its appeal and she would quit within ten days! Maybe fourteen days if the prize was really interesting!

Briony: she'd agree to it out of curiosity and trying to have a new experience, and I'd give it a 50/50 chance she'd be able to make it to like 4-6 months or quit immediately lol, like within a week!

Lavinet: no. no. no. no. she'd never agree to this, and if forced to, she'd either try to escape immediately or go on a hunger strike until they let her out or she died 😅

Halek: yes, he would be the best at this! this would be a very chill day job for him. there's a part of the documentary that they left out about how Nasubi is technically the first person to ever be live-streamed playing video games because at one point he did win a Playstation and a copy of like a train simulator called "Let's Ride a Train!" or something like that. And he had to forcefully stop himself from playing the game because if he played it too long, he'd run too low on food lol. That would be Halek too

[reiding-writing]

B O O K F A Y R E M A S T E R L I S T

[ pair. ] spencer reid x reader

[ additions. ] thirteen

main masterlist. | 2k book fayre !!

TWO-FOR-ONE

sanctuary. | 1.7k part one. | 5.6k

Dealing with addiction withdrawals is a horrible experience. Having to sit at a desk for eight hours and act like they weren't happening was even worse. If only someone would just ask him if he was okay.

WARNINGS | Details of addiction withdrawals, Mentions of Spencer's kidnapping, Needle mentions, Vomit mentions, Thoughts of self-induced bodily harm, Inaccurate portrayal of therapy and legal loopholes, Mentions of touch-starvedness

enough. | 1.0k part one. | 4.2k

Spencer changed after he was released from prison, and an unintentional late-night scare from you leads to a conversation that neither of you ever thought you would have.

WARNINGS | mentions of spencer's addiction, mentions of maeve's death, mentions of spencer's prison treatment, harsh arguments, emotional breakdowns, optimistic ending

salvation. | 1.0k part one. | 2.8k

Spencer needs support. He needs it. But he for the life of him just cannot reach out for it himself. And after one particular case, you make an effort to try and quell is emotional rampage.

WORKSHOP SESSION

STARstruck. | 1.2k

Spencer is a nerd who appreciates accurate scientific knowledge in the media he consumes, and you, are his literal idol in that aspect.

wrong suitor. | 0.9k

spencer doesn’t understand why he hates it when you smile at other guys.

genius². | 1.3k

working alongside another genius is a blessing in more ways than one.

hushed whispers. | 1.3k

after college girls not unlike yourself go missing, you decide to take the first step in bringing them home.

SECOND-HAND

talking fists. | 1.2k | cold!reader

alcohol and a short temper don’t mix, who would’ve thought?

CUSTOMISED BOOKMARK

The Brothers Karamasov.

The Three Body Problem.

AUTHOR’S PICKS

Angst fics. | 8 fics.

Fluff fics. | 8 fics.

thank you to everyone who has taken part in this event !!

[cheezeybread]

Hello! I've been reading your Jamil [L/N] Headcanons and I am in love with your stories. I would like to make a request just to make the Viper Family regret disrespecting Jamil & His Husband. 😈

Request: With some planning and the right moves, [Y/N] becomes rich - EXTREMELY RICH - and surprised his husband with the news. Somehow, Jamil's Parents hear about the news and go to the The [L/N] House Party for obvious reasons. I wanna see Jamil and his Husband shut them down: It's the [L/N] Wealth!

Sorry this oneshot is a bit all over the place, I had a coffee and now I feel SO sick and my hands won't stop shaking lolllll

mmmm not proof-read either T^T

°。°。°。°。°。°。

The good thing about not being born and raised in this world was that you could easily see the various loopholes and "cheats" in their economic system. And other things, such as their gambling games.

Since the people in Twisted Wonderland grew up with all of these things as a constant, they lacked the ability to see any flaws in their systems. However, you could see right through them. First was their currency. Thaumarks were relatively easy to reproduce if one could find a skilled enough mage- of course, you weren't going to stoop down to that level of counterfeit behavior. Second was their card games. While your own world's average card deck housed about 52 cards, Twisted Wonderland's average card deck held 14 to 25 cards (all depending on what sort of deck you were purchasing- region-wise, people added cards to the deck for aesthetic reasons). This lower amount of cards would normally mean that you'd have a better chance of winning, but their game's rules were...stranger than most.

The main game people gambled and bet over was called "Mage Hunt". In this game, a player (or however many were playing a game) would be dealt with seven cards- these cards all representing a "kingdom", with kings, queens, knights, and the like. It was the player's job to find the "mage" in the group (The mage being either a specifically-made card, or a pre-determined card from the dealer), but they could only receive four extra cards before guessing. And they couldn't look at anyone else's cards. No hints were given.

It was a confusing game, when you first started playing it with Jamil. But you quickly learned that the dealer would more often than not pick their mage from the deck out of instinct. You found that their "instinct" was to pick a mage from the card with the most symbolic imagery in it. Crows and ravens, an absurd amount of flowers, stuff like that.

It was for this reason that you began to play the game a lot more. Professionally, even. Every time Jamil left the house to go run errands or explore, you would sneak off to the local gambling area (sometimes it would be a tavern, sometimes an alleyway in town, under a bridge, anywhere was fair game for these people) and play "Mage Hunt" for money. And since you and Jamil were out traveling as part of a Honeymoon, it made it surprisingly easy to win as much money as you could, then skip town before the locals caught on to your proficiency with cards.

And when you and Jamil finally made it back home, after months of traveling, you surprised him with the news of your success! He was mostly amused that you found it necessary to sneak off and play card games while traveling, but he only shook his head and smiled as he suggested you bring out all of your earnings.

His eyes got wider when you brought bags upon bags into the living room and began counting it out.

It was well over thirty-three thousand thaumarks. All from playing card games. It wasn't a grand fortune, by any means, but it was enough to make Jamil pass out briefly. And once you went to some higher-level Casinos (the real deal!) to bet all that you had earned before, you and Jamil went back home with twenty times that amount!

Now you were a wealthy couple- wealthy enough to live heartily and uneasy for the rest of the foreseeable future, without worrying about jobs and other stupid things. Hell yeah.

How the Viper family caught wind of your newfound riches was anybody's guess. Although the blame could...most likely lay with Kalim, who was absolutely over the moon about your card game knowledge (having lost most of his monthly allowance over playing it with you). That poor boy couldn't possibly keep his mouth shut around his family, and since the Viper family worked for his family...well...

In the end, you and Jamil walked into your home after running out to grab groceries, and who else was sitting in the living room but one Mister and Missus Viper?

Jamil tensed up as soon as he saw his parents, but he tried not to let his discomfort show as he squeezed your hand lightly and let go, setting down the paper bags in one of his arms on the kitchen's counter before returning.

"Mother, father," He said casually "I believe my rules were clear, and you followed them...let's see, not at all. So therefore, you're trespassing."

You hurriedly went to stand by his side, wrapping an arm around your husband's waist.

His father wasted no time in getting to the point, ignoring his son's words "We've come to realize that you're hiding wealth from your family, Jamil. But, of course, we wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that perhaps you just haven't found the time to give us our due," he held his hands up in a submissive gesture, although his eyes were almost predatory in nature "So we came to save you the time and effort."

"What are you on about?" Jamil laughed callously "Your due?"

"Jamil, you know good and well that that kind of money can get our family out of servitude-" Jamil's mother started.

He shot her down immediately, twisted out of your loving grip and taking a loud step towards her, the floor vibrating with the force of the movement "Excuse me, I thought serving the Asim family was your pleasure? And now, after all of this fuss-and-nonsense you gave me after marrying YN and choosing to raise our future family freely, away from serving a rich family, you come crawling back to us the moment you hear about money that my husband has earned?"

"You're being a selfish-" the dad started

"NO, YOU'RE BEING SELFISH!" Jamil shouted, making you flinch "GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE- This is not the Viper wealth, it's the LN wealth!"

"I think it's best you leave," you tried to speak motioning for the parents to exit the house. Best to leave now, before Jamil got himself in trouble for murdering his mother and father...

"This is a family matter, fuck off!" Jamil's mother snapped at you, the first time you've been directly addressed by his parents since, well, the wedding, almost.

The room went quiet, devoid of talking. The only sound was Jamil's heavy breathing as he tried to keep himself from flinging himself onto his mother right then and there. He closed the distance between him and his parents, his footsteps eerily silent

"Snake charmer," He whispered, his eyes flashing a brief glint of red. Having not seen Jamil use his signature spell since college, you took a step towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder to remind him of your presence. While he didn't say anything to you nor take his focus off his parents, you could feel his shoulders loosen up.

"Listen to me now," Jamil hissed "You are going to leave our house immediately and forget where it is. You will never interfere with mine nor my husband's lives ever again- and you will not ever, ever speak to me nor him, over the phone or otherwise."

That was the last time you saw the Viper parents. They stood up immediately, as per their son's instructions, and with a glazed look in their eyes, trudged to the door and opened it, disappearing into the outside world.

[megamindsecretlair]

Hey, since you made a Fic where Tyrone was a vampire, Could you do one where he’s a demon the reader does a deal with. He does the reader a favour and exchange, he has a night with them?

A/N: Whew. I'm trying to get to some of these requests! Forgive me for taking so long!

With This Sin

Pairing: Demon!Tyrone x Spooky!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 (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of pet names. There is a power imbalance, there is a sexual favor being exchanged, but it's consensual. Use of magic. Mentions of Hell. ONE SHOT.

Summary: See ask. You found a spell in a thrift store and decided to try it, not knowing if it would work or not. When it does, you're unprepared for what awaits you.

Word Count: 5,242k

A/N: I hope ya'll ain't think I forgot about my baby. He just needed some rest. He been working overtime these past few months, LOL. Who's ready for more spooky Tyrone? I've been teasing this so long that it felt like I was the only one excited. Ah well, LOL. 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 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90

You checked and double checked the incantations, the warnings, and the ingredients you gathered. The spell was written on old parchment and the wrinkly paper crinkled in your hand as you smoothed it out. Reading by a full moon was hard, but you didn’t want to damage the paper further.

When you found it in the thrift shop, you knew it was special. While you didn’t truly think this could work, why not try it? You had nothing to do and your friends were off being boring bitches at the club, shaking ass for lame fuck boys who didn’t have the dick to back up all their talk. 

The blades of grass sank beneath your knees as you fidgeted. You were nervous. Of course you were nervous. What if it really did work? What if? 

A quiet breeze caressed your exposed shoulders in your tank top. The instructions were too faint to see what else you were supposed to wear. You opted for a long skirt to protect your skin from any creepy crawlies in the ground. You loved nature, but not that much. 

You stood up from the ground and rechecked the circle you made. According to the spell, you were to spend all month collecting interesting rocks, seashells, pebbles, or whatever else that was shiny and happened to catch your eye. You made one giant circle, big enough to hopefully contain what you were going to summon. 

At the directional gates, you placed items of great value to you. You placed a necklace handed down to you at the North gate, a rook from a chess set at the West gate, a yo-yo at the East gate, and a photo of your grandmother at the South gate. You walked the circle to ensure that there were no gaps that the demon could slip through. No loopholes it could worm its way past.

The only thing left to do was…the actual spell. You took a few deep breaths, listening to the music of the meadow you were in. Finding this open place, away from nosy passersby, under direct moonlight, was a challenge and a half. You were about to give up when you found this place. 

There were sounds of chirping, crickets, and the breeze playing in the giant trees overhead. Your breathing slowed until it matched the natural rhythm of the space around you. Your feet were bare and your toes burrowed into the grass. Your hands were spread, fingers wiggling to ground yourself in your body. 

Here it goes…

You began the spell, chanting the exact words from the parchment. You studied it so many times, consulting several pronunciation websites, that you knew it by heart. You needed clear speech, clear thought, and intent in order to accomplish your goal. 

At first nothing happened. You kept going, watching the circle intently for any hint of a change. By the third stanza of the spell, the air before you shimmered like heat off of asphalt. Your heart leapt in your chest but you didn’t stop. You continued, focusing all of your energy to summoning a demon with enough power to accomplish your goal. 

The air split, like two hands poked through and ripped the fabric of reality. Red smoke seeped through, spilling into the circle and brushing against the boundary of the circle. You watched for any areas it might seep through. It held. 

It was working! Your heart worked double time, too excited to contain it in your chest. A grin crossed your face, eyes opened wider. You didn’t want to miss a thing. 

Out of the smoke, there was movement. There was so much red smoke, you couldn’t see what was coming out. Were there tentacles? Bones? Husks? Was it a meat suit? It could be anything.

On the last stanza, your voice rose. Amplified in the meadow. The birds stopped chittering. The breeze increased, blowing against you and making you sway. You continued. Mother Nature herself was watching what you were bringing into this world. Trying to stop you with the first element available to her. 

You planted your feet, hoping she wouldn’t open the ground beneath you and swallow you down to Hell. You were more of a cold weather type of girly. Plus you’d miss ice cream too much.

The final word dropped from your lips as a booming crack ripped through the open sky. You looked above for any sign of thunder or lightning. 

The sound of a sigh brought your attention to the circle. There stood…a man? He rolled his neck, stretched his arms as if he were waking from a long nap. He walked around the circle. Beyond him, the split in the air was still open, spilling that red smoke. The man kicked it up as he walked the around it.

Power radiated off of him. It made you take a few steps back as you were staggered by it. The sheer magnitude of it was impressive and only your little circle kept him in line.

He reached out his hand, pulling his hand back as if the boundary hurt him. You licked your lips and watched him. You did it! But what exactly did you do? Your impressions of demons were ugly, winged creatures with clawed feet and devil horns. 

This guy was…just a guy. He had thick, coiled hair. Wide lips. He wore black sunglasses, a black suit with a black turtleneck underneath. A gold chain was the brightest thing on him, glistening in the moonlight. His rich ebony skin was flawless. High cheekbones. 

“Not bad, human. Not bad,” he said. His voice was like sin personified. His voice invited all kinds of dirty fantasies, dark thoughts, and naughty ideas. It reached down into your core and rubbed against it like a cat. 

You placed a hand over your chest to calm it down. It should not have that type of effect on you. And yet…as far as demons went, he was damn handsome. You knew why devils were portrayed by the hottest people now. You’d almost sell your soul too if it meant you could hear more.

He faced you, looking at you over the top of his sunglasses. His eyes were slanted like cat’s eyes, a mix of orange and red. It was the only outward sign of his otherworldliness. His presence alone nearly choked you. 

“You’re really a…demon,” you said.

He grinned, showing off a neat row of teeth. The smile made your knees weak. You had to step in place to knock some sense back into yourself. 

“Demon is such a human word,” he said. 

“So what do you call yourselves then?” You asked.

“You can’t pronounce it,” he said, the grin never leaving his face. 

You rolled your eyes. “Sure,” you said. “What’s your name then?” 

He chuckled, the sound smooth and slow as molasses. “Do you not know how this works, little human? Are you playing with grandma’s cookbook again?”

You folded your arms. “To be honest, I didn’t think this was going to work,” you said. You approached the circle but kept a respectful distance. Just because he seemed to be confined, didn’t mean he actually was. He could be trying to play you. Fool you. Trick you. Any minute he could step over a gate and snatch you up, killing you dead.

You walked around the circle. He continued to face forward. The suit jacket hid his backside, but there was plenty of moonlight overhead to highlight his features. When you made it back to his front, he tilted his head and licked his lips.

“What year is it?” He asked.

“2024,” you answered.

He tilted his head back towards the moonlight as if he were soaking it up. He merely sniffed the air, breathed deeply. Guess that answered the question on if he needed to breathe. If Hell or wherever he was from had oxygen. 

“Been a long time since I’ve been summoned. Your kind has forgotten why they’re scared of the dark. Your funny little lights and machines to scare away the big, bad, shadows creeping through the world,” he said. 

“According to this, I summon you and I get to ask for anything I want in exchange for a sacrifice. A sacrifice of great detriment to me that does not result in loss of limb, life, or otherwise get permanently maimed or disfigured?” You asked.

The man ran his tongue across his teeth, looking at you with renewed interest. He pushed his glasses up his face and placed a hand in the air like a mime. He pushed against the boundary as if there really was a wall right there. He leaned forward and tilted his head.

“Little human’s done her homework,” he said. “I’m not in that type of business. Blood, gore, and the like don’t excite me.”

“What does excite you?” You didn’t intend for that to sound flirty. Or like an invitation. Your voice naturally dipped, became sultry, breathy. 

He licked his lips slowly. You couldn’t see his eyes but you got the sense that he was paying attention to you. To the way your breathing increased, chest rising and falling a bit quicker. What else would he notice? What else could he see? Sense? You had a million questions but the full moon only lasted so long. 

“Well? What is it that you desire?” He asked.

“I want money,” you said. The man grinned but you continued, undeterred. “I want billions of generational money that sets up me and my descendants for thousands of years. It can never be taken away, stolen, conned, given away, or the target of nefarious conspiracies.” You added more caveats, things you didn’t consider before but had to.

You didn’t care if it was shallow. You didn’t care if it was selfish. You didn’t care that this was a petty fucking reason to summon a demon and play with the natural order of the world. You were tired. Tired in your soul. 

Your ancestors’ weariness was engraved in each bone in your body. You came from kings and queens. Entire Black ass empires that were world leaders in education, medicine, and agriculture. Thousands of years of dignity, unity, and a beautiful culture. Until four hundred years of bullshit that you were still paying for. Fighting for crumbs.

Your black ass was tired. Tired of the struggle bus. Tired of working and working with nothing to show for it. The powers in charge worked tirelessly to keep their boot on your neck. To keep your children poor and their children even poorer. So what if you wanted to game the system? Who the hell was gon’ stop you? 

The man laughed. A deep rumbling laugh that started in his chest and echoed as it came out of his mouth. “I like you,” he said.

The smile was on your face before you realized that you should not be that happy that a demon liked you. This whole scene was surreal but if he could truly deliver? You and your people were set for thousands of years. And you weren’t going to keep it entirely to yourself. 

You were going to help your friends, charity, start scholarships, all kinds of rewards for Black kids. You were going to pay their tuition, sponsor their businesses; you were going to be the Black Mary Poppins. You were going to upset the financial sector to the point that you’d have them mu’fuckas shaking in their boots to see what you would do next.

“So how does this work? Do you snap your fingers and boom, my bank account is rolling in money? Do you create the money? Can I take it from decrepit old white men who really shouldn’t be alive at this point?” You asked. 

The man straightened up and put his hands in his pockets. He looked up at the moon overhead. Soon, it would begin its next phase, transitioning away from a completely full moon. The parchment mentioned something of a time limit. Sort of like Cinderella. There was only so much time that Mother Nature would allow an intruder in her space.

“Does your little paper explain how I give you what you want?” He asked. “An ask like this requires a lot of power.”

“Power you don’t have?” You asked.

He rocked on his heels and grinned. “I have the power. But nothing is free. When I work in this…realm, let’s just say I need something to bond to.”

“Something like…?”  

He grinned and stared at you, you assumed. For all you knew, he was watching TV behind those glasses. Though you didn’t think so. He was too intense. Too focused. Too in tune with this dance between you. 

He waited there so long that your nerves got the best of you. “What do you need to bond to?” 

“Moments of heightened emotion. There’s power in anger, desperation, love…desire,” he said.

You scoffed and shook your head. “Sex? You’re saying you need to have sex with me in order to grant my request?” 

“If that’s where your mind went, who am I to argue?” He asked. 

A strangled, garbled sound left you. There was no way…there was no earthly way that you would open your body up to a demon just for you to get money. You weren’t a sex worker. You respected the profession but you needed a little more loving before you opened your legs. Certainly not to a supernatural being. No matter how many times your pussy fluttered whenever he spoke or the twinge of excitement low in your belly whenever he smirked or smiled.

“How do I even know you can do what you claim? You could be a liar,” you said. 

He nodded. “I can give you a demonstration. A kiss?” 

You folded your arms across your chest, feeling entirely too exposed all of a sudden. But…an errant, naughty thought bounced in your mind. 

What if it did work? Wouldn’t that be worth it? You and your people would have security. Something no one – other than rich people – got. You’d be able to live a life of luxury and leisure. Spending your days enjoying life, rather than stuck at a 9-5 you hated. Broke down, beat down, and old before you reached thirty-five. 

You stepped forward. “You can’t cross the line, but I can and no harm can befall me in the circle I created,” you said. “Right?” 

He sighed. “You was one of them teacher’s pets weren’t you?” 

“I like to be prepared.” This was insane. This was wrong. This was so beyond fucked up that you should banish him and find some other way to get what you wanted. But hell, if nothing else, you had a wild story to tell at parties. No one would believe you fucked a demon, but they didn’t have to. 

You took a deep breath and made sure to step over the circle of stones and shells and not through it. The man smiled as you stepped onto his side. His powerful aura was even more intense inside of the circle. As if he contained the combined might and power of all eight planets and their density was going to crush you. 

It was a bit hard to breathe around it. You began to pant as if you ran three marathons, weak and swaying. The man rubbed his hands together and his power began to recede. You hunched over, hands on your knees, as you sucked in more oxygen. 

There was still red smoke seeping from the gaping wound in the world, but you stayed far away from it. The last thing you needed was to be stuck on the other side. If you did survive, you had no way of getting back. 

He waited patiently as you regained some strength. You straightened up slowly, testing your body by shaking out your limbs. You were okay, you were okay. 

“I don’t even know what to call you,” you said. “If I’m going to give you my body, I ought to know your name.”

He smiled. “You may call me Tyrone,” he said. 

As far as names went, it wasn’t a bad thing. At least it was nothing crazy like Aurelius. Tyrone seemed to suit him for some reason. Besides his eyes, he could fit in with any other Black man off the street today. Then again, no one would mistake him for human if he walked past them. 

He walked closer to you. It took all of your willpower not to move. He reached out with a hand and ran it up your arm. You shivered from his touch. A full body shiver that almost set your teeth to chattering. But you felt it like a deep pull low in your belly.

He leaned in closer, taking a deep audible breath. You closed your eyes, the moment calling for a type of intimacy you couldn’t see with your eyes. You could only feel as he moved his nose across your cheek. Stepped closer and brought his chest closer to yours. He was incredibly warm. Waves of heat dripping off of him and making you forget that you were standing in the middle of a meadow. 

He brought his lips closer to yours but didn’t kiss you yet. Your lips parted, waiting for the contact. He paused, on the precipice of kissing you. 

Moving felt like it would break the moment. Destroy this bubble. You found yourself leaning forward, impatient for his lips. You felt him smile before he closed the gap and touched his lips to yours.

You gasped as power flooded through him to you by this small contact. It was as if you jumped into a pool of static. Electricity danced along your skin and underneath. He didn’t move his lips or seek more. He stood there, not touching you or pulling you closer.

The power became unbearable and he finally pulled away. It seemed like it took ages for your eyes to open. You gasped, a deep lungful of air that burned your lungs. The world seemed sharper or clearer. As if you had been blind your entire life and suddenly could see. 

He seemed to glow with some inner light that gave him a fuzzy outline. You looked towards the meadow and the green seemed more vibrant. The colors brighter. The glow bugs and birds looking down at you from the trees were curious little things. You could count how many feathers were on their tiny bodies.

“Check your little box,” he said.

His deep voice snapped you out of your rambling thoughts. You fished around your pockets for your phone. You pulled up your banking app. Your account had a few more commas in it and you clutched your chest seeing it.

“Oh shit!” You screamed. You screamed some more and looked at him. “Shit! Shit!” 

He chuckled and moved closer still. His lips caressed your cheek, temple, and moved closer to your ear. “Imagine what I could do with more than a kiss,” he said.

You dropped your phone to the ground. With that kind of money, you could buy an entire phone company. You could buy several. You moved your head and looked at him. He still wore his glasses so you reached up to remove them. He leaned back and cocked his head to the side.

“Are you sure? I can become whatever you want. What tickles your pussy? Wolves? Lions? The latest celebrity fucktoy?” 

“You. If I’m being honest,” you said. Now that you allowed yourself to feel the attraction and not just dismiss it, it was screaming at you from all sides that he was gorgeous. That he was unlike anything else you had ever seen or would see. Being with him would change your life on a fundamental level.

Accepting him into your body would change you atom by atom and you were perfectly fine with it. You continued to remove his glasses, taking in his strange eyes. He grinned as you did so. 

His fingers lightly grazed your skin as he lifted the hem of your shirt. You helped him take it off of you. You wore no bra underneath and Tyrone greedily looked at your titties. He held each one in each of his hands and kneaded your flesh. Playing with your soft, squishy mounds and running his thumbs across your nipples.

Your growing desire pooled in your panties and you squirmed from his questing hands. He held you reverently, like a goddess and he was a mere supplicant. He either dialed back his power or it only happened when his lips touched yours. While your skin tingled from the earlier contact, you didn’t feel like you were going to jump right out of your bones. 

His hands continued to play with your titties. He pinched your nipples between his fingers and you gasped, a tiny whine leaving your mouth. He grinned and did it again, not stopping until he elicited that same whine from you. 

“Oh fuck, that feels so good,” you said.

Tyrone captured your lips with his. Power ebbed and flowed between you and it wasn’t as intense as before. This you could stand. You appreciated even that bit of effort. 

His hands moved downwards, playing with your tummy and squeezing. “You’re so soft,” he whispered against your lips. “I could get lost in you.” His tongue played with yours, quietly seeking entry into your mouth.

“Fuck,” you moaned. His big, rough hands were the perfect contrast against your smooth skin. He continued to move downward, pushing your skirt and panties down to pool at your feet. 

You moved his jacket off of him. You took your time removing his shirt as well. He wasn’t gross underneath. You blew out a tiny sigh. Surely, he had to be anatomically correct if he got his rocks off seducing people that summoned him. 

He had a solid, muscle-bound stomach that you could bounce a quarter off of if he flexed. His arms were huge. And felt like rock underneath your hands. His pants were next, flowing down over strong hips, thick thighs, and long legs. You wanted to take a bite out of his ass. 

Now you were both naked, both gripping at each other’s bodies like you didn’t know where to start first. Where to kiss or grab or lick. You settled on licking his chest to see if he tasted as good as he looked. He tasted even better. The chain around his neck was settled like a weight around his neck. You played with it, while he dropped his head to your shoulders and kissed you there.

He nibbled on your skin while your hands traveled over his body. He didn’t need to pour his magic all over you in order for you to feel dizzy with desire. You were shaking with the burning need to take him. To ride him. Your hands cupped the length of him and you froze.

That…couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be that damn big. Your mouth dropped open as your hand continued to stroke him. He was long and thick, with a nice bulbous head that leaked precum. You…were in danger.

As if reading your thoughts, he dropped to his knees and took you with him. You gasped, finding a blanket beneath you now. You saw hints of red around the red smoke. Giving the illusion that you were sitting on a bed of red clouds in the sky.

He pushed you onto your back and gripped your knees. He grinned, eyes seeming to glow, as he pried your legs apart. You moaned, gyrating on the softest blanket you’d ever felt. It was a bit fuzzy and felt amazing on your back. 

Was the red smoke full of an aphrodisiac? Because you felt like your skin was going to burn off unless he did something. Anything to your body besides kiss and nibble on it. You were growing needier by the second. He massaged your thighs as he took in the sight of your dripping pussy.

He dropped to his stomach. No words. No warning. He flattened his tongue out and licked you from your entrance to your clit and you moaned, loud and desperate. “Oh fuck! Tyrone, please,” you said. 

“Please what, little human?” He asked. He returned to licking you, suckling at the sweet nectar your body produced. You trembled in his hands, trying to close your legs against his delicious mouth. It was too much!

Words left you as you surrendered to the pleasure. To the incredible, out of body experience you were having. His shoulders were too big to close against. He moved a little higher to ensure that you could not deny him your body. Could not deny the passion and desire flowing out of you and filling him up like a battery.

He moved his arms up to grab onto your nipples once more and roll them between his fingers. Your body arched off of the ground. “Oh fuck! Ouee, fuck, right there,” you moaned. 

His tongue flicked your clit and you were soon making teetering wails. You came with a viciously loud, echoing moan. If there was anyone nearby, they’d certainly hear you. Hear your screams in the meadow as this demon licked, sucked, and moaned into your pussy.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, trying to push or fight him off. As if that would help with the intense pleasure you were feeling. Like the orgasm couldn’t be contained in your body. Like it had to be let out somehow but was restricted by the confines of your skin. 

Tyrone’s gold chain was cold against your skin, but did little to help. Did little to help pull you back to reality. Eventually, your body did take over and you calmed down from such an intense feeling.

Tyrone kissed up your body, leaving wet kisses on your lower belly and between your breasts. He suckled one nipple into his mouth before continuing up and capturing your lips. Fuck, you smelled divine on his lips. Tasted just as good on his tongue. He kissed your jaw and your neck, licking the delicate skin there.

Your bottom lip quivered. You were still so needy for him. Needing to be filled. You were hollow. Empty. There was no existence in this life worth a damn unless he was sliding that piece of art he had in between your legs.

“Please, Tyrone. Please, it hurts so bad. I need you inside me,” you begged.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. He tugged on your neck with his teeth and you cried out, gyrating your hips against his.

“Please, please. I can’t stand it anymore,” you cried. Your voice wobbled a bit as tears gathered in your eyes. You were drunk with lust. Out of your mind. “Please.”

Tyrone lifted onto his hands and moved his knees forward. It pushed your thighs back until you were nearly folded in half. He watched you as he moved his hips and moved his dick against your wet folds.

You moaned from that alone. You sniffled, a few tears finally escaping your eyes and trailing down the side of your face and into your hair. You just needed to be complete. To be filled up. To have him…

“Oh fuck,” you rasped. He pushed inside with one hard thrust, cutting off your insane line of thinking. 

You clutched him to you as if you could absorb him into your body. You’d have to settle for the fact that he was as close as possible already. You bit his shoulder because there wasn’t enough air to scream.

He moved his hips in hard, deep strokes that made you hike your legs higher. Scratch at his back. Your titties bounced with each stroke and he licked his lips. 

Every few strokes, he’d drop down into a push up and suck a nipple into his mouth. He alternated between the two so each one got as much attention as the other. He rolled the sensitive little buds between his teeth, pushing you into another orgasm. 

On the heels of that one ending, he pushed you into another. Curses fell from your mouth like sparks from fireworks lighting up the sky. You looked towards the moon as Tyrone possessed you. Claimed you. Ruined you here right in this meadow. 

He licked the swell of your breasts as moans and grunts escaped him as well. As he closed his eyes and lost himself inside you. He groaned as he nutted, filling you to the brim with his cum. 

You came at the same time, widening your eyes as you looked at him. He looked at you as if you held all the secrets of the universe. Staring like he lived or died on your word. A different kind of power flowed between you. Something unnameable. Sacred. Cherished.

He grunted as he spilled every last drop and then removed himself from between your legs. That desperate clinginess from earlier began to dissipate. You huffed, falling back against the blanket and stared up at the night sky. 

“You will have all that you asked for,” he said. He was out of breath, same as you. You felt like you had been irrevocably changed. Unmade. Made in his image. He turned on his side and pulled you into him.

You turned to face him. You both laid there and panted, coming down from this incredible bond. “Thank you,” you whispered to him.

“The gratitude belongs with me, little human. I’ve never…experienced something like that before,” he said. He grinned. You couldn’t resist kissing him some more.

You began to tremble from the cold. He stole the heat right out of your body. He rubbed your arms, side, and ass, any bits he could get his hands on. 

You saw the look in his eyes before he said a word. “I know you have to go. It’s okay,” you said.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. He called your name softly. You weren’t even going to ask how he knew it at this point. Maybe he could read minds or something in the spell allowed him to know you. But he kissed each of your fingers and looked at you.

“You ever think of anything else you want, you know how to reach me,” he said.

You giggled and rolled your eyes. Yeah right. You could not have a standing monthly date with a fucking demon. Though the idea wasn’t without merit. How in the hell were you supposed to ride a mediocre dick after this? 

His lips returned to yours, lazy, sloppy things that made you giggle and gasp in between. He kissed you until the very last second, the pull of the moon signaling the end of your time together. You sat up and watched him as he stepped back through the gap in the world. He blew you a kiss and disappeared inside. It sealed itself behind him and you laid back down on the soft grass, staring up and up.

You would never meet someone like Tyrone. And you feared that you’d search for him everywhere now. In every blade of grass, flower bloomed, star that blinked, or whenever you heard a song that reminded you of him. You only hoped that wherever he was, he spared a thought for you as well.

The end.

Well, well. If you need some more after that, you're in luck! The Secret Tyrone Files

[dellalalakang]

yjw: up first

masterlist | main masterlist

jungwon slowly discovers the pleasures that come with having a partner

contains: what they're doing is sfw! but it contains some spicy talk and some racy action. i guess it's 15+ 

oh hey guys.. what's up?

yjw

For the whole two years I (well, we) spent with Della, I have never once had any sexual thoughts about her. Not even when I heard the hyungs and her go at it like animals in heat.

I know Sunoo did, which is why he went ahead and did stuff after he turned twenty. We made a pact to not lose our virginity before everyone's an adult, and he took full advantage of the loopholes.

Though I don't blame him anymore, because I get it now.

I don't know what it is but a switch turned on. Everything seems different when you're twenty. Especially everything Della does.

"Kiss here?" Della pointed at the side of my neck. This is our first comeback since I turned into an adult, and they want kiss marks on our necks (excluding Niki). Incredibly suggestive and sexy. 

We were initially really against this, but turns out Della would be the one to leave the print, so I guess it's totally fine in the end.

But I'm up first and I've never had my neck kissed. I don't know why I'm so nervous. It's probably similar to a normal kiss, right? 

Right?

"Yup, just there," the creative director nodded. "Maybe have it slightly askew."

"Okay, understood," Della nodded, putting on a burgundy lipstick as the cameraman for our photoshoot sketch recorded her. The rest of the members were all watching from afar, trying to be subtle with how excited they are for their turn. "Ready, Wonie?"

"Mm," I stretched out my neck for easier access. "Della is gonna make a kiss print on my neck," I explained to the camera.

"We're all friends here," Della clarified. "This is just bros being bros," she said in English.

Yeah right, like Engenes (or anyone) is gonna believe that.

"It's just a print," I added, immediately holding my breath when Della's head moved close.

When it happened...

Yeah the kiss itself barely felt like much, probably because it was so short. 

Though as someone who doesn't understand what being ticklish is like, her breath on my neck left a weird sensation. I couldn't decide if I actually enjoyed it since it ended so quick. 

But I wanted more, I needed more.

"Like this?" Della asked the creative director.

"Uhh..." he stepped back and thought of it for a second. "It might be too sexy actually. It's a little too... suggestive– too grown up" he tilted his head. "Will buttoning up his shirt help? Jungwon, can you button your shirt?" from the corner of my eye, I could see the hyungs now openly staring at us.

"I think we have to discard the kiss idea and just switch to vampire bites," the creative director said. "Unbutton them to how it was before and I'll inform the makeup team of the change," damn, I hope the hyungs can control their expressions when the news gets delivered. "Please scrap this from the video," he informed the cameraman before walking away.

"I'll get going now," Della bowed her head and left to join the others.

"What happened?" I caught Sunghoon asking the girl. 

"The kiss thing is scrapped. We're getting vampire bites instead," immediately after, a chorus of 'ahh...'s were heard.

I barely managed to hold in a scoff. It's just one tiny neck kiss, what's the big deal?

If it's just one tiny neck kiss, then why are you wanting more?

Maybe it's good that I was up first.

"Hyung," I approached Jay as he was cooking. Deja vu. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?" I looked around to make sure no one was hearing.

"Is sex... that good?" what the actual heck, Yang Jungwon. That was not the question I wanted to ask. "I mean! Not sex! But like– l-like.. is there a reason why the hyuppas are so... horny..?" he let out a laugh and ruffled my hair before answering.

"What's got you thinking about this? Are you having dirty thoughts of Della?" I started to play with the sleeves of my shirt.

"The photoshoot yesterday was just... I don't know... Her breath on my neck like that... It just got me thinking," I shook my head. What is up with me. "Like you were all really looking forward to it and I wondered exactly why and figured it had something to do with... sex I guess?"

For God's sake, Jungwon. Do you know how ridiculous you sound? Your girlfriend left a PECK on your neck and now you're seeking advice from your experienced hyung.. again.

"Ahh, well I think that the intimacy of sex is like no other. The pleasure's great and all, it's basically like jerking off but better," he explained everything without halting his cooking. "The intimacy is what's amazing really. You know how good you feel when you make out Della? It's just that but tenfold."

That's... it? I expected him to go on and on about how life changing it is.

"Honestly I'm the wrong person to ask because I'm not as horny as the other three, but!" he stopped a bit to look at me. "I can tell you that you should start off slow. Based on your question, it seems like you've never even experienced neck kisses, and that is almost entirely innocent. You can just start off with that."

"I know that! I'm not gonna get into it and immediately ask for a..." I didn't know what the word was so I just mimed myself pumping an imaginary penis.

"A handjob?" ahh, that's what it's called.

"Mm! Anyway, I was just mostly curious as to why you guys are always getting at it," he raised his hands in defense after my point.

"Eyy, you should ask Della why her libido's so high too! It takes two to tango, you know– well... at least two in our case," ...gross. "–and for the record, the reason why we were bummed about the photoshoot's kiss cancellation was entirely out of possessive reasons like we just wanted to show off how we're Della's."

Well in that case, I'm glad that I went up first for the shoot.

'Just take things slow, Wonie,' Jay's advise was in mind as I approached Della's room. 'Start with neck kisses.'

Should I approach Della and be blunt about this? Should I just pretend like I'm going with the flow and vibe of everything? I usually go with the former but it's also usually never something racy.

I have to admit that I'm a bit envious of how her relationship with the other members have progressed. Our first kiss took place five months into our relationship, and it was only about a year later that we began to include tongue. We're progressing so slowly that even Niki is moving faster. Way faster.

I think I had this preconceived notion that things like french and neck kisses were sexual acts, and I learned very late that it isn't (always) true. Jay said that it doesn't have to be if they're gentle and doesn't contain any provocative intentions.

Well... what should I do? Do I have provocative intentions?

Am I thinking about this too much? Should I just ask her like normal? Is it too weird though? What if she thinks I'm lame? Does she already think that way becau–

My anxious thoughts were cut short when the door suddenly opened to reveal the devil herself.

"Jesus! 깜짝이야!" Della jumped and placed a hand on her heart. [kkamjjakiya = i'm sure you all know what it means because of jake]

"Sorry! Sorry!" I held my hands up in front of me. "I didn't mean to surprise you, I was gonna knock!"

"No, no, it's fine," she leaned against the door and let out a breath. "What's up?"

"Were you planning on doing something?" please say no, please say no.

"Just wanted to get some strawberry milk, but that's it," oh thank God.

"Can I come in and just chill? I miss you," she let out a smile before coming close to give me a peck.

"Of course, Wonie. I'll be quick," is it just me or does she want me in a different way? Her eyes are looking a little different.

Damn, I guess Sunoo wasn't kidding when he said that everyone has a bit of delusion mixed in them.

As I was left alone for two minutes, I came to a quick conclusion that I should.. start it off? Maybe I should kiss her neck first.

"You're in the mood to cuddle, darling?" Della took a long sip from her drink and joined me on the bed.

"Mmm," I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around her.

"Do you wanna watch something?" I can feel her gaze on my face as her fingers played with the hair by my nape.

"No," I opened my eyes to stare into hers. "I wanna kiss you though," was that too blunt?

"Eh? Do you wanna try something?" darn... she knows me too well.

Your cover's blown, Wonie. Just come clean.

...nah, I'm just gonna kiss her.

I didn't answer her question and just connected our lips together. Her mouth tasted of the strawberry milk she just drank, and her lips were a bit slick from her lip oil. 

But yet again, the kiss is going slow like it always is. It's usually how I like it but I'm over it now. I want more.

So I decided to take charge.

I gently pushed her on her back and got on top of her, deepening the kiss and adding tongue. I could feel Della hold her breath for a bit, possibly taken aback from the shift.

This is also a first for us. The only time we've ever hovered the other was for performances.

My hands went from her waist to the sides of her face, really getting into the kiss. She hummed and brought one of her hands to my cheek while the other kept their grip on my hair.

Here goes nothing.

I slowly pulled away and immediately started pressing kisses down to her neck.

From what I've observed (mostly from Heeseung), I'm pretty sure that her 'sweet spot' is located under her right jaw. Otherwise why else would they constantly target the same spot over and over again.

I'm not really sure what makes this spot so sweet and I'm also unsure why everyone's is different. I'm guessing it means the person's ultimate pleasure point.

When I reached it, I started to just gave out small pecks which eventually turned to normal kisses.

I could feel that the vibe was a bit awkward based on how tense Della was. It was as if she didn't want me to kiss her neck.

"Wonie– darling," she pat my shoulder. "Give me a second," but before I could fully pull away, Della had already used her strength to flip us over so she was on top. "Lemme try first," and then she attached her lips to my neck, just like that.

She started leaving open kisses from my Adam's apple and slowly travelling towards the right side of my neck. I didn't realise that I was holding my breath until I breathed out when she reached a certain spot.

Again, I'm not a ticklish person by any means but I'm guessing that this is what it feels like.

But it feels amazing. It's what I imagined having your neck scratched as a cat would be like.

It's really, really nice.

Without even realising it, my throat let out a small moan while my body just stayed frozen in place, unable to fully comprehend what was happening.

She relaxed her posture and focused on that one spot, tilting her head to kiss deeper.

I began to let out soft moans after moans as her tongue swirled around the skin. 

"A–ah!" I hissed when she started sucking lightly. "Lala," I start to notice my stiff hands and brought one up to her hair.

"Do you like that, Wonie?" she whispered against my skin. Fuck me.

"Yeah," I breathed out, caressing her hair gently.

"Was this what you wanted to try out?" she giggled in between her kisses. I felt her mouth and tongue circling their way around the area. She wasn't in the exact same spot as earlier but the ticklish feeling was still there.

"Mm," I held my breath as she began to suck some more. I heard her let out a low chuckle.

"Cute," no fucking way.

I immediately placed my hands on her back to turn us over again. Her lips automatically detached themselves from my neck and the surprise was clear in her eyes. Especially when I pinned her hands beside her head like they do in the dramas.

"I'm not cute," I pretty much mumbled. 

I caught a glimpse of myself on Della's mirror and quickly did a double take at the sight.

"Oh my God," I whispered in English, stretching my neck to get a clearer look at the marks she left. This actually happened and is actually happening.

"They'll fade away in half an hour or something. I didn't suck too hard," Della bit her lip.

"Thirty minutes, huh?" I looked to the mirror again. "Now that you've taught me, I guess I can suck a bit harder," I turned back and stared into her eyes.

"Gotta make sure the members know what happened."

I'm really glad I was up first for the shoot.

please i hope my creativity is back and is willing to stay

bonus scene in my first acc!

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @lalalalawon @clar-iii @deafeningballoonpeach