#for some reason i cant drag the last ones

[castiwls]

coach .ᐟ

Paring; patrick x reader

Synopsis; your sons tennis coach is the bain of your life. You hated Patrick zweig - that only made you that much more attractive to him.

Requested;

Notes; i feel like i cant write him properly still :( something feels off

Masterlist

“Can Patrick come?” 

Your son’s voice cut through the quietness of the car, his head peeking up from the switch in his lap. He sent you his best puppy dog eyes as you met his gaze through the rearview mirror for a moment.

“You want Patrick to come?” You clarified as you raised an eyebrow. He nodded enthusiastically before looking back down to his game. “Mhm.” A long-suffering sigh left your lips as you focused back on the road.

Great.

Of all the people your son could grow an attachment to he’d just had to pick one of the most insufferable guys you’d ever met. It had taken you all of five minutes to decide that you were far from keen on the tennis coach your ex had found for your son. 

“I don’t know…” You sighed hoping your son would simply drop the topic. Why did he want his tennis coach to come to dinner anyway? That surely had to be breaking some sort of code, either that or it would just simply cause more drama amongst the other parents at the club.

They already believed your son got special treatment. One mum had once claimed that the two of you must be hooking up at least if the way he looked at you was anything to go by. Sure you’d noticed his less-than-subtle glances as he checked you out - his grin only growing at the scowl he’d get back - but you were not sleeping with him.

“Please.” He pleaded looking back up. “I’ll do the dishes and clean my room?”

The car came to a stop outside the courts. “You do that and you hoover for a week.” You turned in your chair shooting him a look as he nodded. “I mean it.”

“I will. I will.” He nodded so fast you thought he was going to make himself sick for a moment.

Shaking your head with a small smile. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Don’t let this go to your head.” You said taking another sip from your glass. Patrick held his hands up as he found your gaze. “Hey! I’ve been good.” He raised an eyebrow watching you for a moment. 

He’d all but jumped at the chance when you’d begrudgingly approached him explaining that your son (for reasons you had no idea) wanted him to come to dinner. 

Patrick knew damn well why your son had made that specific request. You were by far the hottest person he’d met at that damn club and your kid was pretty cute too. Maybe he was wrong to bride a 9-year-old with the promise of £20 and a new trick shot but hey! It had worked out for them both. 

“Loosen up a little.” He grinned as you placed your drink down. “You’ve been glaring at me for the last hour.”

“I’m trying to will you away.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well, you’re still here so…”

Patrick hummed sitting back in his seat. He pointed a finger at you, waving it around slightly as you frowned. “I know you like me. I know that because otherwise, you would have said no.”

You scoffed. “Just because I’m giving my son something he wants doesn’t mean I liked you.”

Patrick smiled, the same one that made your stomach flip - not that you’d ever admit it. “Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that!”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

You’d unleashed a monster. 

Patrick’s advances had only worsened since that damn dinner. His eyes seemed to linger on your chest for a moment too long as you handed him the cash before dragging your son away ignoring the way you could feel his eyes boring through you.

Other than that he’d been… okay.

Until right now.

“Why are you at my front door?”

“Suprise.” He smiled leaning against the doorway. You leveled him with an unimpressed look at he looked sheepish for all of a minute. “I was just passing by and decided to say hi.”

“Mhm.” You nodded letting out a sigh. “He’s at his dad's.”

“It’s not him I wanted to say hi to.”

Patrick shot a look down your path before peeking over your shoulder and into the house. “Nice house…very you.”

You frowned shifting slightly. “What do you want?”

Patrick huffed rolling his eyes. “God your no fun.” 

Part of him loved it. The challenge of cracking that cold exterior just enough to weasel his way in. He’d seen your softer side, the way you acted around your son was almost a polar opposite of the glare you seemed to always be levelling him with.

It was hot.

He was many things and determined was one of them. He would crack your walls if it was the last thing he did. 

“I know this is all an act. The whole I hate you thing.” He leaned slightly closer, his forum almost looming over you. “You’re playing hard to get. Other guys might have just called it a day ya know? Been on the end of your glare one too many times and decided to call it quits.” His hand slowly curled around your own.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m just as stubborn as you.”

You hummed, trying to ignore the heat swirling in your stomach because you would not fall to Patrick Zweig’s charms. You’d spent the last year doing everything in your power to keep him away yet he’d somehow weasled his way into your life.

“You don’t know anything about me.” 

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment. 

“Oh yeah? I think we can change that.”

[corpse-flame]

theyre now animated. original

theyre now... complete.

[hella1975]

wdym i had a nap yesterday and then slept nine hours last night and have done nothing but feel sorry for myself in bed today and im STILL TIRED?????

[stupidrant]

I salute to you and thank you for your service 🫡😔

u guys weren’t there in 2018 fighting the atreus annoying and useless allegations like i was. i was on the front lines

[beababoobies]

ME AGAIN!!! WITH A SAL X READER REQUEST (again) THIS TIME AIDJSJDH. a porn one at that !!!!

i need sal so bad its an actual problem

just like. imagine reader n the gang r havin a little sleepover. and reader is just so inconsolably turned on for some reason (maybe sal had his hand on their thigh when they watched a movie or smthin), so when everyone is asleep they asks sal to help them out :,,,) (his fingers r just so long n pretty,, they cant help but want them lol)

mayb he has to keep them quiet somehow, mayb covers their mouth/puts his fingers in their mouth to muffle them

hes so shy and nervous and awkward but he’s having the time of his life, watching the reader’s reactions. mayb he cant help but get himself off too, too enraptured by the way reader struggles to gasp and whine against his fingers

GOD DAMN.

would love if u wrote this mootie 🫶🏼🫶🏼 no pressure ofc ofc ofc !! (fem bodied reader pls if u dont mind <3!)

(i might write this too, i love my mind sometimes 🙏)

hey mootie!! Im giving you the fast pass because all the jjk stuff you repost got me into the series and I’m loving it, also cus you’re AMAZING! All characters are aged 20+ because this is based in chapter five of course, please do enjoy! :) (and for everyone waiting for their Hazbin requests to be filled - IT IS COMING! I am a busy woman.) 

Needy - Sal Fisher X Fem!Reader

words : 2k, warnings : SPICAYYYY!!, creampie, fingering, slightly public, needy!sal AND needy!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys, c’mon), hold the moan trope

The entire gang had been having more sleepovers ever since Sal and Todd had found the new house. Larry was moving in so it was just the normal next step, and you loved coming over so much. More specifically to spend time with your boyfriend, but also just to feel like old times again. Even Ash came from the city every once and a while, and this was one of those days.

Since it was Larry’s last day living in the Apartments, you had all agreed to made the most out of that small basement apartment you had spent so much of your awkward teen years in. You had been doing all the same shit you used to all day - smoking in the treehouse, playing card games for hours. 

You and Sal huddled up around his old gamebuddy, playing the games Larry had kept long forgotten in the corners of his room, Larry and Ash painting on a shared canvas, chatting about life while Larry’s old metal mixtapes blasted in the background, and Todd and Neil cuddled up on the beanbag in the corner, occasionally joining in their conversation, but mostly just cuddled up and enjoying each others company. All of this was wonderful, nostalgic - even healing. 

That was all up until Sal quietly suggested you all watched an old horror movie, and you were all huddled together in the dark, you with Sal leaning on your shoulder on your right, and Ash on your left, giggling and nudging you like old times. Larry laid out casually on the floor in front of you all because of how shit his eyes were from years of refusing glasses. Which should’ve been fine.

In fact - it was fine. Until Sal decided it would be a wonderful idea to put his hand on your thigh. Your bare thigh, just below where your miniskirt started. And even that - even that, you could’ve survived with some unwanted heat in your panties. But no, the blue fucker jumped at one of the scenes, hand sliding up the inside of your thigh to accidentally drag your skirt up, his hand knocking against your warm core - hand rubbing up against your clothed clit as he pulled his hand away, and all you could do was pull your hand away from where it was sweetly brushing through Ashley’s hair like you used to do, straight to your face to hide the unbelievably needy whine you would’ve let out.

“you okay?” Ashley whispers softly, looking over to you and you just nod quickly, watching her go back to watching the movie before shooting Sal a venomous glance, which he avoids nervously, already feeling your stare of death shoot through the side of his head. You pierced your lips together, putting one leg over the other and squeezing your thighs firmly shut, Sal’s hand now comfortably resting much, much lower on your thigh. Practically on your calve, as he preferred not to die tonight. 

But that’s when it started, the unwanted slick already gently collecting in your panties, your mind running through all the things you wanted to do to him - what you wanted him to do to you. God, your mind was like a dog in heat. You couldn’t even bear to focus on the movie, sitting there, cautiously eyeing up your dead silent boyfriend. His shirt ridden up his stomach just oh-so-slightly from the way he was slouched back, soft happy trail of blue peeking out from under his shirt. God, what you would do to pull those stupid red torn up jeans down - not even fully - and ride him until he was shooting blanks and sobbing under you. 

That is how it went on for the rest of the movie. That is exactly how it went on when you all decided the sleeping plan. That is where your mind still was when you and Sal decided to take the pullout couch, Todd and Neil in Lisa’s old room, and Larry sleeping on his bed with Ashley on a cot on his floor. With the thinnest fucking walls known to man kind. You should know - you grew up with the same ones. 

Sal yawned as he laid next to you, mask placed softly on the table right beside the couch, as well as his glass eye floating in a cup, looking at you nervously as he pulled the covers up over himself too, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him from behind, expecting you to be asleep by now - you were a heavy sleeper, he was an insomniac. It worked out like that. Until he heard a soft, half-whine of a whisper come from you. 

“S-sal..” you mumbled softly, pressing yourself back against him, causing him to let out a soft whine of his own, hand around your waist flinching ever so softly. “P-please baby, need you so bad..” you mumbled out softly, turning around to face him, seeing the needy tears in your eyes had him melting as well, piercing his lips together as he grips softly at your side.

“N-no, you know how thin these walls are - I’m sorry about earlier, but..” he says nervously as he watches you whine and writhe softly, pressing yourself up against him, one hand on his chest. That’s when you decide to make the move, grabbing his hand and moving to in-between your legs so he can feel how absolutely soaked through your panties are, causing him to experimentally run his fingers over them, biting down on his scarred lip so hard he’s concerned it might bleed. You can’t help a choked whine and a buck of your hips against his hand at that, looking up at him with those needy eyes. Fuck. 

He doesn’t say a word as he puts two shaky fingers to your lips, and you wrap your mouth around them without question, twirling your tongue around them and sucking on them like your life depended on it, all while he shakily pulled you panties to the side, prodding his fingers at your soaked hole, a quiet ‘fuck.’ Escaping his mouth when he slides one in with ease, feeling the vibrations around his fingers as you whine. “G-gotta be quiet, please - we h have to be quiet..” he mumbles out messily as he feels his cock throb to life in his sleep shorts, smearing precum across his thigh when he feels your cunt clench needily around his fingers.

He lets out a sigh of relief when you quickly nod at him, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly starts to curl his long fingers inside of you, the obscene squealing noise making him whimper softly, hips accidentally bucking softly against your thigh as his cock tries to find some sort of friction - daydreaming about how easily he could slip inside you right now with how wet you are - how you would feel around his cock, velvety walks clenching around him and providing him that oh so delicious friction he was searching for. 

His thumb moves to gently circle your clit as you start to find a slow grinding rhythm against his hand, practically riding his fingers as he finds that delicious spongy spot on your walls and pushes his fingers up against it, causing your cunt to give another urgent and needy clench, more slick falling into his palm, making a mess as he tries his best not to whine himself.

The slippery sounds of friction, the feeling of your thigh twitching pressed up right against his own throbbing problem, or the way his fingertips are pressing up against the entrance to your throat, the way his other fingertips are pressed up against your velvety walls. It’s driving him beyond insane, to the point he’s thinking he might cum in his sleep shorts if it continues this way. And he didn’t bring an extra pair - and it would just be a waste if he didn’t cum inside of you - not while you were practically begging for it.  

“B-baby.” He whines out, catching your attention for a second, tears of pleasure falling softly down your face as your hips still, whining against his hand from the way you stopped while being so close - it was beyond downright embarrassing how quickly you were about to cum, and you were honestly glad he stopped you. “C-can i please put it in? J-just the tip, please baby, ‘s so sensitive. Need you so bad.” He whines quietly and softly, pressing his hard on against your thigh to back up his own statement, whining softly again. “Just wann’ cum inside you, please…” he whispers, watching you nod eagerly.

Pulling his fingers out of you with an obscenely wet pop, pulling your soaked panties to the side and he lets out an erotic sigh pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he pulled his shorts down, cock slapping to attention against his abdomen, precum beading from the sensitive tip as he shakily pulled your hips up, grabbing the base of his cock and gently rubbing it against your entrance, and you could hear how wet you were when he moved his tip to part your drenched lips and drag through them, whining into the crook of your neck as you grabbed his shoulders, brain fuzzy with the way his hot tip felt rubbing against your clit, sticky with your own slick. 

He bit down hard on your shoulder as his tip popped past the tight ring of muscles of your entrance, desperately rutting against you, trying not to whine or let slip how good it felt to be inside you - the way your hot, heady slick insides felt like they were trying to pull him in deeper. His hand cupped your mouth quickly, stopping you from making a sound as he gently pushed himself further inside you, feeling you grip tightly at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as he broke his promise, pushing his cock inside of you, inch by desperate inch, trying not to slam his entire cock into you at once - which was unbelievably hard, considering how wet you were, and how desperate he was - his tip prodded at your cervix, making you jerk forward, groaning against the palm of his hand.

He rutted into you desperately, not daring to thrust properly, letting everyone else hear how wet and desperate you were, or even worse, how even needier he was for you, the head of his cock bumping against your sweet spot, the only sound in the air being the quiet sounds of your muffled whines, and the quiet rustling of sheets as he ground into you, abdomen rubbing against your clit as he did so, bringing you to the edge so much faster than you ever expected, cunt clenching around him, the sign that you were about to cum. He just nodded into the nape of your neck, hips refusing to stop. 

“m-me too, fuck, me too, me too ‘m gonna cum, ‘s too tight, ‘s so warm.” He half whines, half whispers right into your neck as he detaches his teeth from your shoulder for a second, before hurriedly latching them back onto your neck as you feel his cock violently twitch inside you, whining desperately into his hand as you felt yourself start to cum, cunt clenching around him desperately, slick flooding from you and creating an obscene squelching between you two as you spasmed and arched under him. 

He groaned into your neck as he quickly pulled his face from your neck, smashing his lips desperately against yours, muffling his own groans as he pushes himself as deep into you as he can go, cumming hot ropes into you as he stills, thighs twitching as he pulls his mouth from you, both of you panting and catching your breaths, feeling the warm liquid pool out of you and spill onto Sal’s abdomen as he lets out a small and raspy chuckle, still catching his breath.

 “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.” 

[bunnyrafe]

hi baby bunbun i just got an idea

i drank with my friend last night playing beer pong and it just gave me a lil idea for a protective!rafe 🙂‍↕️

reader being a lightweight, growing drunk very easily after a few drinks- and rafe being rafe, he eventually starts telling her to take it easy b u t reader's a lil party animal, so she does the opposite 🙂‍↕️

he basically just keeps trying but eventually gives up and instead drags her out once she's got worse 😭

IDK I JUST LUV ME SOME STRICT PROTECTIVE RAFE

ps: reader is also a bit stubborn, y'can do with that what you will >:)

HONEYBABY. sick ‘n twisted that we can’t party together but i digress. made this way more cutesy than i intended. rafe may be psychotic but he adores his sweet girl </3

strict, protective rafey…

he DEFINITELY yanks you out of that house the second he noticed how other guys are looking at you. figures it’s better to just remove both of you from the situation than to start a brawl, and if you weren’t so fucked up you probably would’ve praised him for showing so much restraint.

anyway so like, he’s so mad because he’s fully sober and you’re more or less plastered… but you’re being so cute ‘n you’re so drunk ‘n silly that he cant bring himself to be that mean despite how impatient he may be. honestly he’s too busy helping you walk and stay upright. he knows if you wake up and realize you’ve ruined your dress in a drunken haze you’ll cry— and yes, this is one of the many reasons why he kept warning you. he has to stop himself from laughing when you hiccup as he’s opening the door for you.

“up ya go— get in the truck, baby.” he practically coos.

“rafey, help me.” you demand.

it takes everything in him not to loudly sigh in defeat when you turn the opposite way and wrap your arms around his neck instead of climbing into your rightful passenger princess seat. the seat he fought to get you to.

“m’not playing your games right now.”

at that, you turn your nose up at him; “well— then m’not moving,” you huff, “not until you pick me up.”

his arms lock around your waist in an instant and you giggle, knowing that you’ve won. rafe’s patience is finally running out as he lifts you up and into the truck. cursing and ranting under his breath while doing up your seatbelt, and of course you attempt to kiss him as he does so.

“i dunno, kid,” he grumbles, getting behind the steering wheel, “you’ll be lucky if i ever let you fuckin’ go out again after tonight.”

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

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Masterlist

[imjustdelusionalok]

yandere dc: meeting camgirl! reader <3 pt. 2

Yuppp, this is the part two of my previous post <33 but this time she'll be meeting the rest of the batboys and kon! (reminder she has met some of them even from before!!)

if you get into the 'terry mcginnis' part and is confused on who he is, watch batman beyond bc hes the new batman and its sooo good and hes underrated <3

Anywho here it isss

BIG warning: this may more or less have the same amount of clownery as the last one so prepare my sweets and also my brain is fried so some parts might not make sense but i tried😔💔 please repost to support me i spent sm timee 😭

tim drake aka 'red robin':

Also one of your most biggest and creepiest faithful fans that you've ever had in your stream!

Hes a frequent donor AND victim to your relentless charms just like jason and dick.

Has met you before you decided to even become a cam girl, as you two both go to the same school AND classes too 🥰 (he may or may have not gotten bruce to manipulate the principal or some higher up into changing classes...)

he's like a lovesick highschool student who developed a crush, but this time more extreme.

While you on the otherhand, saw a weird looking boy staring at you with the most fullest smile you've ever seen. toothy, cheshire grin, and all-- (he ran away almost IMMEDIATELY when you saw him)

(...you also chased after him when he ran 💀 he was shooked, but stops once your hand grabs his shoulder and you ask him who he was)

"You >:D i saw you looking at me, who are you >:)"

...my, he never knew you were this bold... you really need to stop being so cute or your further fueling his delusions i swear--

You shake him. "Ow- okay-- my name's Tim--"

You then smile and drag a stunned but intrigued timothy with you.

...Are you perhaps some social butterfly, darling?...

From that moment on, tim's interest in you increases and a friendship between you and him bloomed! Hes so proud of himself for making the first move even though you did it first...

(Again, dont ask how darling lives in bludhaven, but meets tim and jason whose in gotham 💀 either think of her as having teleportation powers being the reason for the frequent back-and-forths or tim being so obssessed, he moves in bludhaven just to see reader--)

When i said creepy, i said c r e e p y. Even worse than klarion, thaddeus, and even dick who i said before was on another level 😦

Tim is both sweet, nervous, and shy... or at least, is how he shows himself for you.

he must look decent for you or how else would he make you reciprocate his feelings?

He's capable of changing in a blink of an eye so anybody who isn't his beloved, dont test him, okay? <3

He sits in the back with darling in class. In the back. You heard me.

Normally he'd be in the front to be able to see and listen better, but darling is a slacker so--

He sighs, looking at his rushed and poorly written notes. He doesnt even know what the topic is anymore, and it kinda looks like hieroglyphics--

Meanwhile, you on the otherhand, was cooking instant noodles with the others... with a pot AND a stove... D: (he loves you but damn he wants to cry rlly bad on how screwed you two are--)

As for the part where he finds out about your part-time job as a cam girl, this man was seething.

No honey, not at you, but at your parents-- how could they let their beautiful daughter do this?! Do they even care?!-- oh? What was that, darling?... Your parents were gone? i guess that explains it...

proceeds to feel bad for you, and wishes to look after you. But you being you, you remain so hardheaded. Why cant you let him love you?? why cant you quit that stupid job?! >:( (hes a bit hypocritical on this one since he literally donates thus further fueling you to go on)

Sigh... nevertheless, he realizes a bit that he can't persuade someone like you for now, so he donates in your live like the good friend he is...

Yeah, 'good friend'...

In the darkness of his room, he watches with unblinking eyes the way your body moves on his screen. You look so enticing, the way a bit of pink colors your cheeks, how every moan you give were light and breathy... simply fantastic. He sighs.

"Oh baby... what am i going to do with you?... <3"

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 38% for nuisance, 70% for humor (80% as red robin)

⋆˚✿˖°

conner kent aka 'superboy':

Ah yes, another top donor and one of your most perverted watchers out there.

Cocky, rebellious, womanizing... doll, you're just another girl for him to use in order to piss off tim since he loves pushing that man's patience so much.

Has probably met you through him too, as this man follows his best friend that has been, in his eyes, acting a bit too strange lately.

And he now knows why. You.

thinks you're absolutely adorable. the way you act out of impulse to the way you speak so brazenly to him, intrigues the kryptonian so much.

Hm, your going to be so much fun to play with <3

But unfortunately, the boy of steel did not know who he was up against.

"...Doll, what did you just say?--" it was 8 at night and he was in his best attire holding a bouquet of flowers. Not just your average red roses, but a well-thought out blend of daffodils, carnations, and tulips. just for you.

But right now, you're breaking his heart.

"Yeah Kon, i love you but no. i'm not dating you. Sorry."

...you don't have the right to say you love him.

"a-and why can't we date?--" he was so confused, these months spent trying to court you, all wasted.

"erm... im not interested, kon. yeah you're hot and you support me and all, but im gonna be honest with you... you're not my type. and plus..."

he feels his heart break even more when you continue.

"...I'm interested in someone. I've known them for so long Kon, and i would hurt them if i get with you."

...

"...sorry." you run away.

things with kon has never felt the same since. he no longer visits tim just to see you, only him. he ignores you too, not even a single glance being spared. but you swear you could feel cold blue eyes watching your figure sometimes...

...and then that happens. you see a message notification from him. conner.

'im sorry if i made things awkward between us. forgive me, doll? :('

your thumb hovered whether or not to answer. you made your decision.

'kay. wanna play dti? :3'

he's so glad you cant see him right now... crying pure tears of joy, and complete relief that you took the bait.

'okay :)'

just because he got rejected by you once that doesnt mean he's immediately gonna back down <33 and about that boy you like, who was it? can't you tell him and he'll give a quick visit to the very lucky guy...

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 49% for nuisance, 80% for humor (95% as superboy)

ᯓᡣ𐭩

damian wayne aka 'robin':

...knows the guy that you like.

he's genuinely angry at you, but mostly at your taste.

seriously, him? why not him instead...

frequently donates money and is also very dedicated in line.

(to save you trouble, most of the batfam is a big fan to you and are often your biggest donors. they wish to stop you from pursuing such a... scandalous, line of work but cant help but further support you the more they give money and get addicted to the content you make 😞💔)

discovered you on accident when a certain someone, *cough* tim, *cough* left their computer on without closing the tabs.

you cannot simply imagine the sheer shock that painted his face during that time, seeing someone, you, getting it on with another guy that seems all too familiar.

...and he cant help but get angry. (you'll all understand soon enough why he and kon hates reader's man and possible bf sm 😭)

meeting you face to face... thats a whole situation. tim immediately regrets bringing damian to see you because this man already went off on how much of a 'hoe', you are.

you can take a lot of things, but this boy rubs you off wrong.

"seriously, drake? your new friend is a prostitute? you drew the line making friends with that kryptonian clone, but this takes the cak--"

*slap.*

...that hurts. damian's hand slowly makes its way up to his cheek, where the red was starting to spring.

he looks at you like you were mad. you are, thanks to him. "...you... you little---"

he was held back by an angry but calmer kon despite being also insulted, whilst tim holds you comfortably.

"hey don't listen to damian over there, alright? :( he's just a bit--"

"I'm speaking facts here!-- hmpfh!" a hand covers his mouth.

"seriously tim, does he ever shut his mouth?" kon says.

he huffs. "no. and that's why i was considering bringing duct tape earlier, Kon."

...okay, maybe his first impression forever got him labelled as a bitch in your eyes, but damian tries to make it up to you in any way he can since he actually finds you decent after getting to know you. (think of those asian parents that after scolding you till you cry, they give you food but instead money in damian's version)

"...ahem."

no response.

"...AHEM."

you finally look up at him, and a bag was thrown straight at your face. "you stupid ass-- wait a minute." you look inside the bag and it was filled with... money.

you look up at damian, only to see his figure quickly dashing off and hide behind a wall where he would secretly try and take a peek for your reaction. you smile and give a thumbs up.

"...you aren't that bad, but try shutting your mouth most of the time, okay? :3 <3"

...the green in his eyes glinted... and he scoffs. typical damian wayne.

"...sure, prozzy-- HEY STOP CRYING--"

fierce but protective. rude but caring. that is what damian is towards you.

and that is how he'll always be as long as that man is around...

"i'll be with you. and i shall do everything in my power to ensure you do not end up with him!--" too late.

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 25% for nuisance, 78% for humor (89% as robin)

ִֶָ࣪☾.𔘓

terry mcginnis aka 'batman beyond':

...is the man that kon, damian, and the others have beef with.

how he's part of the main timeline in this is that all of the events before batman beyond happens earlier. (i also tweaked a few things in canon here so dont mind me)

terry's dad died before the entire 'Powers' situation, leading to Terry living with his mom earlier.

...terry also suffers from something.

at a young age, terry cannot feel any sort of emotions. remorse, empathy, such things were removed from him. he could only feel empty, comparable to having a large gaping hole inside his chest instead of a beating heart.

the boy ponders why he was cursed with such a thing, and why he could only feel pity and sadness. just a little.

...he thought he was unsavable. until--

his eyes lands on you, the girl who was playing on the playground's swing. (note: darling used to live in gotham as a kid)

...he gulps. pretty...

"you there, what's your name?" you asked. always the first one to make a move...

...and you sound nice.

"hm? well? :3"

...he decided to speak. "...terry. i'm terry... you?..."

you smile. "they call me (name), pretty right?" he could only nod. yes, it was very pretty...

i think everybody could guess how things go from then on.

he meets you, grows up with you, falls in love with you, and in the end lives happily with you... if only it weren't for his tendency to maim just about anyone who gets near you.

he's a dog, honey. but he's your rabid, vicious dog.

by the time he grows up, he's learned how to hide what he truly is from you, and the terry that we all come to know and love is now here.

charming, witty, humorous... terry mcginnis is nothing but an amorous boy for you... and you love it. (u match his freak sm)

in his eyes, you two are together <3 and its not even a lie you two are but you're too much in denial since you firmly believe he deserves better :( (tho thoughts like that dissapear when he and you yk ;))

absolutely hates it when you spend time with anyone, especially with his adopted siblings. dick, jason, tim, and damian? fuck no. (if you read the batman beyond comics, those two despise each other--)

...so expect those two to be at each other's necks.

and about the cam girl part, yup, this man knows. and like tim, he tries to persuade you to stop. you're a complicated person, he knows. either for money or fun, you do crazy shit like this every time... but this one's really serious.

"...look at me." you obey, eyes staring back at ocean blue ones. terry's eyes were always so pretty...

"...hehe, pretty eyed as ever, mcginnis..." and he can't help but smile slightly at your words.

"..." damn you, really. his soft spot for you is huge, and 99% of the time, you get off the hook easily.

in the end, he might have allowed you to do this... 'artist' stuff, but on one condition:

he gets to f*ck you on some parts.

you blink, cheeks starting to redden. "...what--" and just like that, your fate is sealed <3

...currently, you were on Live. the rest of your boy toys watched with envious yet very heated gazes as your pussy was getting demolished by his dick. the close up shots were so unnecessary, the way he roughly pummels into you was so--

'$10000 from GR4YS0N_68'

'GR4YS0N_68: ugh yea terry ruin that little bitches cunt'

terry grins, feeling you getting closer. the position you and him were in was perfect, babe... perfect for a pic.

his strong hand gently but firmly grabs your jaw, making you face the camera.

he whispers to you so closely."smile for the camera, sweetie."

you oblige, a broken smile on your lips. the stream abruptly ends.

no need for the public to know what you both are doing in private anymore...

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 0.0001% for nuisance, 90% for humor (100% as batman beyond)

(finally its finished 🤕 i have so many unfinished works huhu....)

(update: ill also try editing this too <3)

[kyunzin]

☆ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑‘𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓 ☆

✰ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ✰ 𝐇. 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢 ✰ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ✰ you have a failing grade. he’s more than willing to give you a bit of extra credit but not for free of course (f!reader) ✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒/𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✰ nsfw, teacher x student, semi public sex, face slapping, age gap(36 r!22), degradation, praise, hair pulling, face fucking, cockwarming, asphyxiation ✰ 𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ✰ do not do this in real life guys this will not happen trust me. i need to sleep i'm too tired for this.

w.c ✰ 2.2k

if only you knew what you were getting into

if only you weren't so stubborn and accepted the grade

if only you knew that your teacher had a thing for sweet, innocent girls like you

you had always had a perfect record of: punctuality, attendance, and grades so it bothered you this much to have this one failing grade on your report.

never had you gotten below a 'B' so it surprised you to this this. you made sure to follow all the criteria for the task so you're perplexed as to why you failed.

you usually aced his assessments so its only natural for you to seek him out to find out the reason behind the big 'D' marked on the top of your paper and then you would find a way to boost this to at least a 'B'.

you had heard rumours before that he hardly gave out bad grades but when he did he would always allow his student to finish some tasks for extra credit.

nobody ever said what he asked them to do for him but all you know is that whenever they do their grade always gets boosted up depending on their completion of the tasks.

its said that some even go back to ask for more tasks even if their grade is perfect.

you were determined to not leave his office without changing your grade even if it meant doing unknown tasks.

in no time do you find yourself in front of his office door, with you papers ready for an explanation, knocking hastily. not even a second later do you hear him tell you to come in. you have no idea how it got to this.

one minute you're sitting across from him arguing about your grade and the next your papers are forgotten laying on top of the desk and you're sitting under his desk with his fist in your hair and his cock down your mouth.

you had no idea this was the kind of task he requested the student to do. never would the thought of sucking your professors cock, to get a better grade, have crossed your mind. let alone committing such a scandalous act in such a public setting much less.

such a studious pupil like you should feel ashamed at your actions, but the way he hoaxed you into believing this is the best thing that you could do to raise your grade leave shame as the last thing on your mind. all you want to focus on is making him feel good.

you're not even sure if this is allowed, but the second he rolled back in his chair and spread his legs beckoning you over to sit between his legs it was game over.

it would be a lie to say that you didnt find him attractive with his stoic attitude and firm build. it may have influenced your decision on agreeing to partaking in his more than improper tasks. had it have been any other professor you'd have reported them straight away.

"i didn't think it'd be this easy," he tilts your head back so that your staring up at him through you lashes with your glossy eyes just about visible to him.

there isn't much space under the desk so you're sitting on your knees, hands in your lap with your head sandwiched between his firm thighs ,that you're sure could crush you head with a slight twitch "i thought i'd have to do more to convince you"

his grip loosens for a second and he leans his head back against his chair but the second you attempt to swallow around his cock the hold is back.

"who would've thought little miss perfect would be such a perfect cock sucker" you feel his hand dragging you back off his cock with his eyes now closed.

"it cant be the first time you've done this," you'd try to shake your head but with his cock lodged down your throat as well as the minimal space all you're able to to is make a hum of disagreement as you partially look up at him.

"come on. don't lie to me, you don't want to be a bad girl do you?" the hold on your hair vanishes and moves forward to caress your face and you lean into the touch closing your eyes almost forgetting the position your in right now.

"ill have you know bad girls get punishments. you don't want that do you?" you're to lost in thought thinking about what punishment you would receive only to be snapped back into realty when you feel your cheek start to sting from where his hand connected with your face.

"don't tell me you've lost your ability to respond," his hands reach back into your hair with a loose grip "you've only been down here for a couple minutes yet you're already cockdrunk"

you have no words to respond, not that you could say them anyway, so you tilt your head down in shame trying to ignore his chuckles from above you.

"c'mon princess, no need to be embarrassed," he gently pulls your head back so he can see your eyes. "its like you were made to be the perfect sleeve for my cock"

maybe its the fact that he's the first male to show any sexual interest in you but you somewhat find some comfort in his words. at least someone is praising you even though it may not be for the most gracious thing.

he slowly starts to ease his cock out your mouth again pulling your head off ever so slowly before abruptly thrusting his cock down the back of your throat all he way to the hilt now using both hands to hold your head steady while he uses you for his pleasure.

its inevitable that you gag around his cock but he doesn't allow you any time to recuperate, instead he fucks into your mouth with vigour without so much as a care to how you're taking it.

you're struggling to breath with his erratic pace and you're starting to become light headed the longer he fucks your throat. its almost like torture for you but it seems to e the opposite for him.

the feeling of your throat jerking around him elicits deep groans from him as he chases his own pleasure using you as he pleases.

it comes to a point where your hair is dishevelled, face is a mess, tears streaking down dour face, and the lower half of your face coated in your saliva and his mess.

before you start to loose consciousness from lack of oxygen you have to frantically slap his thigh to alert him of your struggles. only then does he pull out completely letting get air but your too busy coughing and choking up all the pooled wetness that collected in your mouth.

you're only given a few seconds before his thumb in your mouth preventing you from closing it "you were doing so well s'shame you don't know how to breath properly," his free hand strokes his cock and you can see the slight glimmer from your saliva.

"next time i'll have to teach you how to control your breathing" upon hearing the prospect of a next time your distress falls to back of your mind.

your face is a few inches away from his cock and even though you just felt like you were dying with all your senses being overwhelmed with him all you want is for his cock to be back in your mouth.

you stare up up him and all you can think about is how your probably look like a hot mess while he still looks put together like that didn't just happen.

without his cock in your mouth there's no reason for your face to be in such a state but you make no move to adjust your appearance. "such a pretty cockslut you are"

an almost dumb smile rises on your face and a similar one is mimicked on his face. "if only i could keep you here forever" his thumb glides across your tongue, holding it open to the point where it starting to strain your jaw but you don't dare move.

"i'd have you warm my cock while i grade papers," your already imagining it in your head wondering if he'd let you do more than warm his cock "i bet you'd love that wouldn't you?" this might be the fastest you've nodded and it's almost enough to make you dizzy.

"of course you would. there's no need for a pretty little thing like you to be worried about exams. all you should think about is being here on my cock" you find yourself thoughtlessly agreeing with him, ignoring all the things that are wrong with what he said.

"well that can be a conversation for another day" he removes his thumb and uses his fingers to further smear the mess all over your face.

"for now how about we take care of this" he brings your attention to his neglected cock that standing proud against his stomach, leaking and dribbling down the underside of his cock.

without instruction you lay out your tongue for him not wanting to waste anymore time. "such a good girl you are. i don't even need to tell you what to do"

you close your eyes when his cock slaps down onto your tongue and focus on savouring his taste on your tongue while you still can.

he wastes no time with sliding his as much of his cock into your mouth as he can and slowly dragging it out. you would say that he's being more gentle if he didnt start driving his cock down your throat mere seconds later.

what you do know is that your taking it better than last time. you've somehow managed to learn how to open your throat so its not as hard on you.

"that's it. just keep being a good cocksleeve for me" the longer this drags on the more groans, curses, and praises leave his mouth.

your almost reaching the point where you're struggling to breath until you notice his thrusts start to loose rhythm and you feel his cock begin to pulse.

the final sign is his rushed spew of "fuckfuckfuck- that's it," now loosing speed his aim is to fit as much of his cock in your mouth as he can "just like that- fuck!"

what you don't expect is for him to push your head down and hold you there until he empties his load down your throat without warning. you can feel it failing down your throat but you're unable to swallow it properly.

only when he's sure he's emptied all his cum down your moth does he release his hold on you. "open up let me see" without question you follow his command sticking your tongue out for him to see inside your mouth, showing him the mess he created.

you had swallowed most of it so there's not much for him to see. his hand pets over your hair when he sees your mouth empty and you lean into his warmth. "you make the perfect cumdump, you took all of it without complaint"

his touch disappears but you're not bothered as much so you rest your head on your thigh peacefully content between his legs.

you hear some ruffling going on and the next time you open your eyes he's tucking back into his slacks. looking as put together as when you first walked in here.

there's a flash of a picture being taken and look up to see him setting his phone down on his desk. "it's just to keep as a memory of our fist time" you pose no argument so he doesn't say anything else. something cool touches your face and you recognise it as a wipe.

"wouldn't want you to leave hear looking like this," once you face is clean he works on mending your hair back to a presentable state "this is for me only" you can hear a slight hint of possessiveness in his tone and warms your insides.

once your appearance is decent enough he lets you up from your position and you find it a little painful to stand with your legs having gone numb from being in the cramped position for so long. he must notice your discomfort because he moves to massage your thighs to help ease the pain.

once you feel comfortable enough to walk you regretfully back away from his touch and make your way to leave his office.

your face drops when he doesn't say anything as your leaving until you hear him say "if you ever have any other questions about your grade or want more tasks feel free to come back anytime. my doors always open."

you don't respond and leave the room and if anyone sees you walk out with a stupid smile on your face they don't say anything. when you get an email about your remark your proud to see the top grade on your mark.

in class the both of you act as if nothing happened playing the perfect role of teacher and student, yet after class some have seen you follow him back into his office to 'consolidate your knowledge'.

who can blame you for going back to complete more 'tasks' the next time you hand in an assignment even though everyone knows you have a near perfect score.

© 𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐙𝐈𝐍 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭/ 𝐊.𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✰ taglist ✰ @leilalilox @keikokashi

[rodolfoparras]

Grabs you. I have a thought I’d like to share…

Reader being Price’s little guard dog.,, yk he’s always around, looking after him, almost growling at people if they get too close to him or say something he considers rude. Price just calling him his mutt ,and he knows reader will do whatever for him so he just drags him around and will use reader whenever he wants. Reader will absolutely demolish him if needed, desperate like a dog to have Price under him 🫡 I needed to let this out

Thinking about being Price’s guard dog and accidentally hurting him during a mission. Again, wasn’t on purpose. He had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time, with your claws accidentally grazing his sides that had left him out of commission for a while.

Price forgave you as soon as it had happened. He knew that having a guard dog by his side came with consequences but you couldn’t forgive yourself, had silently promised yourself to stay away from the older man (at least til his injuries healed or til the guilt stopped eating away at you. )

Price hadn’t noticed it at first, too busy with recovering from his injuries. But once he had fully healed up, he noticed you being distant especially when he tried to initiate something.

You’d usually make up some excuse or even pretend to fall asleep.

Price hadn’t thought much about it. It’s not like you were in a relationship with him anyway. If you didn’t want to sleep with him then that’s okay.He’ll just wait for you to be the one to approach him first.

But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and Price had started to wonder if you even had a deal at all.

If you wanted out of this , he rather you tell him than leave him hanging like this.

So Price stalked you to your room, cornered you up against the wall and confronted you about the issue.

You had played dumb with him, pretended not to know what he was talking about but Price knows you like the back of his hand, knows that something is nagging at you. What kind of owner would he be if he didn’t know when his pet was struggling with something?

So instead of making you use your words, he had your actions speak for you, tentatively locking his his lips with yours before stripping the clothes off of you.

You followed his lead without complaints, slowly but surely tumbling into the sheets with him and for a split second Price thinks that this issue must’ve been all in his head.

All friends with benefits sure must have their periods of time where they don’t do anything?

It wasn’t until you were a couple of rounds in when Price had noticed something.

You’d been taking him apart with your fingers and mouth, fucking him into the mattress til his mind went numb and his body felt overly sensitive to your touch.

But you didn’t come once, matter of fact you hadn’t begged and pleaded like you usually do. Price had founded it a bit strange but you must’ve been too engrossed with his pleasure to think about yourself.

But that won’t do.

Good behavior like this deserves a treat so with the last bit of strength in his body he straddles your waist, pushes your cockhead past his puckered rim, and sets a steady pace with his hips.

It doesn’t take much before he notices you inching closer to your release and Price feels a sense of pride bubbling in the pit of his stomach as three words slips past his lips.

“Cum- ah cum for me” Price says between labored breathes while practically bouncing on your lenght.

“Cant- I cant sir” you slur out head shaking side to side.”please - please no” you continue to speak , mind delirious as ever but desperately trying your hardest to hold off from cumming”don’t don’t - deserve it,”

And in that moment a light bubble goes off in his head…the reason as to why you’ve been distant, …the way you’ve been acting ever since his injury,…

You were punishing yourself and trying to make up for hurting him.

“Bloody hell… “ Price squeaks out “Do you ah- do you think I care about that boy? I don’t give a damn just cum for me” he croaks out, now desperately holding off on his own orgasm.

“I cant - “

“You ah-you can and you will”

[smutinlove]

bro i loved ur last carl x reader sm

*shy sensitive reader

what if carl and reader fight (maybe cuz she sneakes out of alexandria) then rick scolds him and he has to say sorry to her but she cant help but feel emotional

yes!!!!

im not entirely sure i did the shy part correctly but i tried!!! enjoy love<3

CARL GRIMES X READER

i call this:

"The one that got away"

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You glanced at the walls that surrounded Alexandria. It was honestly pathetic. You couldn't necessarily go outside of the walls without permission. It angered you. Every small move you even thought about was supposed to be told to Carl and Rick first. Everything.

"Tell Rick."

"Tell the leader's son!" It was shitty.

You liked Carl. He was sweet. But sometimes he was an asshole.

You continued your walk around the walls of Alexandria. It pissed you off that you couldn't go outside. But... there was one way.

Maybe you could achieve a bit of freedom and independence in doing so.

You smirked and ran back to the group's house, passing Carl and Rick on the way. You went inside and opened the cabinet. You grabbed a knife and went back outside. It was still very sunny so you would definitely have time to come and go without being noticed.

You went to one of the walls that wasn't very heavily guarded. After a few attempts at climbing the wall, you finally did it, landing on the ground with a small "thud."

The fresh air was enticing. It was so peaceful. You could barely hear the words of the other Alexandrians. You decided to head into the woods, just to explore a bit. You had a knife with you so you'd probably be fine.

"Beautiful," you whispered as you watched a bird fly by. A tear of joy slipped down your cheek. Why? It was incredibly rare to see something so pure. Most birds are usually gutted by Walkers or killed, cooked, and eaten by those who were brave enough to survive.

You were about to continue walking when you felt something on your shoulder.

"Caught 'ya."

You let out a shriek. "Holy shit!"

It was... fucking Carl. "Having fun?" Carl asked with a hint of bitterness.

"What? You followed me?!" How could he follow you? It's not fair. You wanted one moment of peace... even if it was outside of the walls of Alexandria.

"Of course! You don't know what you're dealing with! These walkers... they've become more vicious!" You rolled your eyes. Like father like son.

"Shut up! You're so bitchy! Carl, you're always telling people what to do and it's so fucking annoying."

Stunned, he didn't say anything.

So you said, "Fuck you, Carl! Go to hell!" Tears threatened to fall down your cheeks, but you held them in.

"You ain't any better! Why would you even sneak out?!"

"To have some fucking freedom! The walls of Alexandria make me feel trapped. I feel like an animal caged up in there! And you... and your fucking father are taking over everything!" A few tears slipped down your cheeks, making you feeling hopeless.

He forcefully took a hold of your wrist, "We are going. Now."

Carl started dragging you, not caring about your protests or exclaims.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You and Carl reached Alexandria in ten minutes due to his speedy pace.

By this point, you had fantasized about killing Carl in a hundred different ways. And you'd also shed a few more tears before he started yelling at you. Again.

You rushed inside, avoiding everyone.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"You really had to yell at her?!" Rick scolded. There really was no reason for Carl to yell at you or talk to you in a disrespectful manner. "Well, no, but—"

"—But you need to apologize."

"She shouldn't have snuck out! It's dangerous," Carl retorted.

"And she is old enough to make her own decisions. I agree, it's dangerous and she shouldn't have snuck out. But that was her choice and you should have respected that." Carl stayed quiet this time, letting Rick finish.

"—You can't treat people like that, Carl. Son, I love you. But that was horrible. I want you to go apologize to her. Don't lose her 'cause you said something stupid. She's a good one. You do not wanna sit on a rocking chair at ninety and call her, the one that got away."

"I'm sorry, dad." Carl said. "I know. Now, go."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Carl entered the house with the yellow door (group's house), Carl sighed and called out, "Hey, Y/N, are you here?"

You sat on the couch, curled up into a ball. Your cheeks were red and puffy from crying. "Hey, oh, Y/N," you heard from behind you.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean all that bullshit I said. I was horrible."

Carl sat down next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up, eyes watering again. "Don't cry, please. I'm sorry. I'm the biggest asshole on the planet. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N."

You nudged closer and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight. "I'm sorry," he whispered in your ear once more.

»»————<3———-««

damn guys

inside i was dying frrr

did anyone catch the catwoman/batman reference? :D

anyway this was fun!!! send more reqs yall<3333

he totally wants me<3

[coolprettyleo]

no ones ever had me, not like you - ryan leonard

wc: 1.6k

tw: talks of sex. talks of sex tape. old relationships. angst. lovebombing, etc. lmk if theres more.

ryan leonard x oc hughes sister au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

frankie woke up suddenly, with her chest; rapidly breathing up and down. she had the worst dream that frankie hughes thought she could have; a sex dream. the only problem? it was about drew fortescue.

she felt awfully guilty due to the fact her boyfriend was soundly asleep next to her and here she was dreaming about her ex- situation ship?

I mean it's not like she still wanted drew. it was one of those dreams that you know has happened before and for some reason your mind wants to remind you it happened; but why?

she thought back and recounted the dream even though it made her cringe. she tried way to hard trying to impress him back then. she focused on what she remembered from the 'dream' or whatever it was, and her eyes widened when she realized there was a flash? a flash of what? a camera?

they had filmed themselves! she suddenly remembered as she gasped loud, waking ryan.

"wha- what!" he said as he spinged up and turned on the light, taking a good look at his girlfriend who looked nothing but guilty.

"you alright franks?" he asked after she just starred at him.

"uhm- ya. I just- just... had a-- nightmare?" she said coming up with a lie.

ryan eyed her for a moment before huffing and crawling back into bed,

"c'mere" he said before pulling her directly on top of him, something that he knew calmed and put his girlfriend to sleep as he rubbed her back. she hummed snugging her head into his neck. she loved- liked Ryan so much.

you cant love him already frankie! get a grip. you like him, alot.

___

it was the next morning and frankie didn't waste anytime and got up and ready for the day. she had one mission and that was; going to talk to drew. someone she hadn't spoken too since their last... meeting? she needed to know what happened to that video.

why had she forgotten? if that ever got out... her career, her brothers career, drew's career, hell even ryan's career would be over. the media would drag her and everyone who loved her through the mud. she wanted to cry just thinking about it, she needed to get that video wiped from existence.

she sped towards the hockey house knowing ryan was safe in class, away from the mayhem her mind was causing. she couldn't have him knowing about this yet, it could all just be; nothing.

he deserves to know it exist

she huffed before knocking on the door to the house hoping she would just be in and out; no one had to see she was even there.

god obviously had other plans because aram opened the door, and announced to will, gabe, jacob, and drew who were sitting around eating breakfast, that 'lady hughes' was here, as they nicknamed her. he stepped aside and motioned her inside.

"hey frankie, ryan's not here, we thought he was at your place?" will said as he grabbed her a chair and motioned her to sit,

"thanks but I'm not here for him. I actually needed to talk to drew" she said looking at drew, who choked on his cereal. frankie had been acting like he was non-existent since she got with ryan.

"i- i'm sorry?" he said coughing as everyone looked between the two with wide eyes.

"we need to talk... privately" she added when no one moved.

"does lenny know your here?" gabe asked, something that everyone was thinking.

"no. this has nothing to do with him. drew please" she said walking towards drew's room.

the guys looked at him with eyes as if they were all saying 'whats that about' and he shrugged before following the girl.

he entered the room and looked at her as she stood in the middle the room,

"do I shut the door... or-"

"yes please" she said quickly as he proceeded to shut it.

"I'm sorry" she said looking at him.

"for what?"

"for... everything. I mean-- I basically used you. and I thought, that you would one day like me back, and when you didn't, I just ghosted you and randomly popped out with one of your best friends, and I know how that looks. you must think I'm a slut, and maybe I am but I love ryan. I love him so much, which is why I'm afraid he's not going to like me anymore after he finds out about the video-- the video we made that one night, and I know you don't owe me anything, and I've acted like you were non existent-

"woah woah frankie? slow down. deep breaths okay?" he said as he cut off her rambling, and noticed she was crying.

"now... what are you going on about?" he said as she calmed down.

"the sex tape we made, drew" she said sniffing.

he starred at her for a moment; thinking as it came back to him,

"i deleted that once I realized we were done, for real" he said seriously.

"you did?" she said finally looking up at him.

"yeah... when I found out lenny liked you, I deleted it. it would be super weird to even still have that" he told her

"you can even go through my phone if you don't believe me, but I swear. I wouldn't do that to you, or ryan" he said starring at her for a second before holding up a pinky, something he knew frankie took very seriously.

"it's okay. I believe you-- but... did you ever tell or show anyone it?" she asked nervously rubbing her arms.

"no, I meant it when I told you it would stay between us"

frankie felt a huge weight come off her shoulders as she sighed.

"does ryan know that it existed?" he asked her.

"no, I'm scared to tell him. I really like him and I'm scared he's gonna look at me differently"

"look frankie, ryan's been in love with you since he met you, probably even more now that you've become this mature woman... and stop saying 'liked' you said you loved him earlier"

"I do. but I haven't told him and what if I say it to him and he doesn't say it back?" she said nervously

"well then you get rejected, you've been there before!" he said trying to cheer her up, something that made her throw a pillow at him.

"your an ass" she said laughing.

"look... I know we don't talk anymore, but I'm always here. I'll be a friend if you ever need one hughes" he said after a moment as frankie stood up.

"thank you forts, for everything. even rejecting me" she said as she brought him in for a hug.

they pulled apart as they heard the door open, revealing no there than ryan. who looked between them with a heart shattering look.

"ry-

"len-"

he shook his head before rushing down the stairs where the rest of the guys were.

"ryan, I need to explain-"

"you know, I really believed you when you said you were over him-"

"I am over him!"

"obviously!" he said pointing upstairs

"we were just talking-" drew tried to add

"SHUTUP" both frankie and ryan yelled at the poor guy in unison as ryan walked out of the hockey house.

"I'm over him ryan. i'm done having this fight-" frankie said following him, now just being the two of them outside.

"yeah? how could you be so sure?"

"because... I am. I.-- like you ryan." frankie said as she cringed, she couldn't tell him she loved him yet.

why not?

ryan frowned.

"well maybe you like two people then-"

"I know I don't like two people"

"yeah? how could you be sure?" he challenged

"because you can't love two people!" she said exhaustedly

this was enough to make ryan's world stop spinning, even if it was just for a moment.

"I love you ryan" she said sniffly as she walked closer to him, slowly as he smiled.

"yeah?" he teased her seeing as how red his girlfriend was getting. this was rare due to the fact the roles were always reversed between the two, whereas he was the one always getting red.

"you don't have to say it back or anything but I just need you to know that I love you. and I'm not saying this because I'm trying to make you forget that I was hugging drew earlier, but it's a long story- actually, it's not that long. look, if your gonna love me back, you need to know this. I made a sex tape with drew back when we were together, and I had totally forgotten until last night and-"

"a sex tape?" ryan asked again, as if he didn't hear right the first time,

"yes, but it doesn't exist anymore-- that's what a came to ask drew. I would never do... THAT to you" she told him

"why didn't you tell me you were coming then, I would of helped you or-"

"because-- I was scared you were gonna look at me differently, which I'm pretty sure you do now, anyways-"

"I do look at you differently now hughes" he told her as she looked down and fiddled with her fingers.

this was it, the only good thing you had in your life; you ruined.

"but only because when I look at you; now , I see the woman I love"

this made frankie look up as tears welled in her eyes.

"yeah?" she said pressing up against him.

"yeah." he said before smiling and wrapping his arms around her before he leaned down to kiss his girlfriend.

they pulled apart and leaned their foreheads on each other as they just smiled at one another.

"so you don't think i'm a whore" she asked

"never-- my girl likes sex, why would that be a problem?" he said as she playfully slapped his arm.

"your the best leonard" she said as she wrapped an arm around his neck and they walked sideways.

"your my favorite. pretty hughes"

[soccer-love]

Weddings make lovers

Mala Grohs x reader

Magdas and Pernilles weeding was a thing the whole Bayern team was looking forward to.

The were getting married on a Saturday after the last game of the season.

Everyone helped to make this day perfect.

They offered to let other guest stay at their apartments, helped to decorate the location, picking out the cake and food and helping each other to choose outfits.

The ceremony was beautiful and besides the familys, Tuva was the one to cry, and every five minutes someone else had to hand her a tissue.

After the ceremony and the dinner, the big party started.

Jovi had offered to be the DJ and she really did a great job.

At first she played the song, Magda and Pernille had picked out for their first dance and then more songs you could dance to.

During that, Caro and Georgia took over the bar and tried to give everyone there own cocktail creations, while also being a little bit tipsy already.

Linda was the one to take pictures of everything and everyone.

Syd and Klara where joking and fooling around, making everyone laugh and encouraged everyone to dance.

And I was somewhere in the middle of all of that.

I was already a little bit tipsy, thanks to Caro's newest creation: The Amortentia Potion, inspired by Harry Potter. And maybe that was also the reason why I walked towards Mala as I saw her on standing the side of the dancefloor.

"Mala." I say and smile at her.

I don't know who helped her pick out her outfit, but it was incredible hot.

A blue suit, with a read tie and black shoes.

"Y/N."

"Come dance with me." I say and grab her hand, it's warm and fits perfectly into mine.

"What happened to the shy and calm Y/N?" Mala asks laughing as she starts to dance along with me.

"Maybe this is the true and dark me?" I answer and place her hand on my shoulder.

"You have a dark side?"

"Dark and dusty, hidden deep inside me."

"I am impressed."

We dance for some more and I really enjoy the feeling of her hands on my shoulder.

I like her, more than I should.

More than she likes me.

"Y/N! Sorry Mala but G and I need her." I hear Caro's voice next to me and turn around.

She points over to the bar, where Georgia is standing together with Magda, Linda Sembrant and Zecira Musovic.

"Zecira brought some drink called Akvavit, and you absolutely have to try it." Caro explains and I nod.

"Sorry Mala." I say and let myself get dragged away by Caro.

"This is literally so good!" Georgia says and hands me a shot glass.

The cold liquid burns in my throat but it's also really good.

"Oh my gosh this is really good." I say making them laugh.

"Told ya." Georgia answers, pouring me another shot glass of it and drinking one her own.

"Better be careful." Magda warns, Pernille appearing behind her.

"Careful with what?" she asks, sliding one arm around her wife.

"They are trying Akvavit." Zecira explains, pointing at the bottle.

"Uh yeah you should defiantly be careful, that stuff is really strong." Pernille warns while Georgia and I drink our third glass of that stuff.

"Nah we can handle that, we are big girls." Georgia says and wraps one arm around me.

Caro serves us a round of drinks and Pernille and Magda leave to talk to some people.

The party keeps going till it's late at night, around midnight most of the people started to leave and now there are only some friends, some team members and the brides left.

"I need to go to the restroom." I say to Caro who is still standing behind the bar with Georgia, singing along to a German party song, Jovi finally decided to play.

"Der Zug hat keine bremse." she sings in reply and I cant help but laugh.

The floor on the way there is really uneven and as I come back I see someone coming towards me.

"You're good?" I hear Mala asking, fuck is she hot.

"This floor isn't built right." I say instead of answering her question.

"Uhm?"

"You know what a friend of mine is a carpenter I think he knows how to fix this." I say and pull my phone out of my pocket.

"Y/N, it is 1am I don't think he will like it if you call him now."

I put my phone back into my pocket and look at her.

"I think you should go home and sleep till you're sober." Mala says "I can drive you home."

"You are so smart." I step closer, how can someone actually be so smart? I mean she is studying....something. I know she is studying something you have to be very smart for. But right now I cant remember its name.

"There is so much knowledge inside your beautiful head." I say, pressing one finger against her forehead.

"And your skin is so soft." I feel the need to touch her cheek.

"Yeah you defiantly are druck, come on let's get you home." she says laughing and wraps one arm around me, trying to get me to walk towards the exit.

"Wait." I say and grab her by her jacket, pulling her against me.

Her warmth surrounds me and I feel like I could pass out just from that feeling.

"Mala."

"Yes?" her voice is so soft, like she is an angel.

"I really want to kiss you." I say, looking at her lips for some seconds before I look up into her eyes.

"That's because you're drunk." she says but not letting go of me.

"No! I mean yes...I say that because I am drunk but I want to kiss you even when I am sober."

"You-"

"I am in love with you, Mala."

A small smile curls up on her lips and she softly grabs my chin.

"If you really mean that, then say it again when you are sober." she says, stepping back.

"But don't play with my feelings Y/N."

I slowly nod, suddenly feeling really tiered.

"Let's get you home." she says and I follow her down the hall, we say goodbye to Magda and Pernille and some other people and I see Magda whispering something to Mala while looking at me but I cant hear what they are saying.

Mala drives me home and waits outside until I am inside my apartment.

---

We have two final training sessions before everyone is going on their summer vacations and as usual I am one of the last ones to be there.

Malas place in the locker room is directly opposite to mine and normally we talk a little while getting chanced and she helps me doing my hair.

But today is different.

Yesterday morning I woke up with my head feeling like it had doubled in size but unfortunately I could remember everything that had happened.

And I feel like she also did.

The training is good but it feels different without Mala talking to me and making jokes all the time.

At the final training it is the same and I definitely know that I don't want to go into summer brake like that.

I try to be the last one to go into the locker room but she is already waiting outside as I get there.

"We should talk." she says and I nod.

"Yeah."

I follow her around the corner so we won't get interrupted by any of the other players.

"I don't know how much you remember of the party night but-"

"I remember everything." I interrupt her, leaning against the wall.

"And I am sorry for telling you that but..." I look at the floor, I could just deny it, deny my feelings, deny the fact that I didn't say all of that because I was drunk.

"I...I cant tell you that it was because of the alcohol, because .... because it is true. Everything I said." I say and look up.

I am surprised by the way she looks back at me, not mad or hurt but with a small smile on her lips. Her beautiful lips.

She steps closer.

"What is true?" she asks.

"That I am in love with you and that I want to kiss you."

"And what did I say after you told me that?"

"To tell you that again when I am sober?" I ask, confused about her reaction.

"No after that."

"To not play with your feelings." I repeat her words, realizing that I completely forgot about that till now.

"Because I cant have you telling me, that you like me back and not meaning it." she explains, taking another step towards me, my body now trapped between her and the wall.

"You...you like me too?" I ask, but scared of what she would say I look down at our shoes.

"How could I not like you." she whispers in the space between us. And like she did at the weeding, she grabs my chin and softly pushes it up.

She leans forwards, searching in my eyes for the permission to do it.

I close my eyes, waiting for her lips to meet mine. And they do.

Her lips feel so soft against mine. She tastes a little like Powerade, lip balm and her.

I can't believe I am kissing her.

As we brake apart, a big smile forms on my lips.

I open my mouth to say something but someone else is faster than me.

"Wow."

We look to the side and I feel one of Malas arms around me like she wants to protect me from anything that could happen now.

At the end of the hallway, there are standing Magda and Pernille, both ready to go home.

"Soon enough." Magda says, coming towards us, followed by her wife.

I just look at them, to stunned to speak.

"Magda." Pernille says in a warning tone.

"What?" She says laughing "You also knew about this."

"You...what?" I ask.

"I told them about my feelings." Mala says and looks at me. So that was what they were talking about at the weeding.

"Well, weddings make lovers." Magda says and smiles at us like a proud mom.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

give yourself a reason | m. murdock

a/n: hi guys. this is much different than what I promised you last time I posted and it's a lot different than what i usually post but i've been struggling so intensely with my depression and anxiety and genuinely the only thing that's gotten through it is "you can't kill yourself yet, you haven't seen daredevil born again" so i guess this is a fic about that lmao warnings: massive trigger warning for depression and suicidal thoughts, like just. pretty much the entire fic is the reader wanting to die and having bad mental health. besides maybe some cursing (but i cant recall) that's pretty much it. word count: 2.1k summary: the devil of hell's kitchen talks you off a ledge (literally) pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader now playing: call your mom - noah kahan "medicate, meditate, save your soul for jesus/throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason/don't wanna drive another mile without knowin' you're breathin'"

You are the light in a dark room for so many people.

You are the glue of your friend group—Constantly planning hangouts, constantly responding to text messages, you’re always there for people.

You visit the bodega at the corner every morning for a large coffee and to pet the bodega cat.

You bring donuts in to work every Friday, for no reason other to bring joy to people’s lives.

You have every reason to live.

You…

Are standing on the ledge of your building, wondering if you’d pass out before you hit the ground.

You’ve dealt with depression for years. It’s been an uphill battle since you were eleven, maybe even earlier. And it goes through phases—Sometimes, you just coexist with it. It lives in the corner of your brain, where a lamp or a soulmate should be. You know it’s with you, but sometimes it just sits on your shoulder, observing.

Other times, it shackles you. It weighs you down, pulling you down under the crashing waves, and every time you pull yourself up to breath, it drags you down faster, more relentlessly.

It’s an intense unfortune that you could blame on any number of things, and you have tried.

But things have been bad recently.

And it���s not that your life is particularly hard right now—There’s no looming deadlines, your relationships are all fine, you thought you were happy, really, but one day you woke up.. unable to come up with a reason.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve found a reason. For a long time you thought, no, I couldn’t do that to my mom. Then, you said if you could just make it to college, everything would be easier. And then, you figured if you could make it to New York City, you’d be able to cope with things.

And it worked for a while, but—

“Hey,” A voice says from behind you, “hey, just—take a step back.” The voice says, and you tilt your head back, trying to look at who has interrupted you in this vulnerable moment.

“Go away,” You demand, your voice harsh as you realize you are not dealing with just any old witness- The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen stands behind you.

You know all about him. He popped up a year or two before you moved to the city, and you’ve always kind of daydreamed about him saving you—You’ve seen pictures and videos of him, glimpses of him.. But they’re just fleeting moments of a silly crush.

“You know I can’t do that,” He says, his voice getting closer. “I won’t do that.”

Then you feel tears in your eyes. Nothing can be easy, can it?

“Please,” You beg, “I’m not hurting anyone, I just.. want it to stop.”

“You are hurting someone. You’re about to hurt yourself and I won’t let that happen.” But he knows you won’t step away. And he doesn’t want to tackle you off the ledge.

“Please,” You say again, a shaky hand wiping your cheek, your heartbeat thumping out of your chest. You don’t want to die. You just don’t want to be in pain anymore.

“Let’s just sit,” he offers, his voice much closer to you now. “You don’t have to get off the ledge, just sit.” He requests.

“Look, devil man, I really don’t want you to give me some speech about how life is worth living, okay? Just—”

“We don’t have to talk about why you’re up here,” he says, “We can just sit.” From the corner of your eye, you see him sitting next to where you stand, his legs dangling over the edge.

He offers you a hand to help you sit down.

You take it.

And you’re not even sure why, because you don’t want to talk to this man, no matter how you admire what he does to other people. You sit next to him, and you feel yourself getting pulled down again, unable to breathe. Static fills your brain, repeating horrible things, telling you that everything for everyone would be easier if you just—

“Have you ever considered that Dr. Pepper could be a woman?”

“What?” You blink, now looking at him. What a ridiculous thing to say to a person who was about to kill themselves?

“Well, have you?”

“Uh.. No.” You answer, your face still twisted in confusion. “No, I’ve never considered that.”

“I always hear about people talking about this hypothetical doctor behind the soda, and they always refer to them as a man. Kind of messed up,” He shrugs.

“I don’t understand,” You respond honestly.

“I told you we didn’t have to talk about why you were up here, but I never said anything about not talking at all.”

You suppose he has a point.

“Okay.” You answer, feeling awkward now.

“Have you lived in the City long?” He wonders aloud.

“No,” You find yourself echoing the same story you’ve told a thousand times. “No, I moved here about a year ago.”

“Do you like it?”

Your stomach churns.

“Yeah.” You’re having a hard time being more descriptive than that.

“Have you been to see any good shows?” he asks, “Oh, have you seen Wicked?”

You’re confused again. You glance back at him. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is asking you if you’ve seen a Broadway musical about The Wicked Witch of the West. Much like the question about Dr. Pepper, you’re just extremely caught off guard, because it seems so out of character.

“Not in years.” You answer, “I saw it with my mom when I was younger.”

“Well you should see it again.” He said, “It’s really good, even better than you remember.” He promises.

“Why are you talking about this?” You answer, and he sighs.

“The confusion is on purpose,” He confesses, “I heard somewhere that if you can just distract someone having an episode, it might pull them out of it.”

You do feel.. better.. You suppose. You’ve been pulled above water, able to breathe, because in your confusion, there was no room for any static or bad thoughts to get in. Maybe better is a strong word, but there’s an absence of all of the intense thoughts that distracted you.

“Oh.. Thank you.” Is all you find yourself saying.

“I’m gonna go back on my promise,” he starts, “I need to ask you why you feel like this is your only option.”

Your shoulders fall a bit, remembering everything.

“You’re a liar.”

“Just try.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Tried what?”

“Verbalizing it, saying it all out loud?”

Well, now you feel silly. Very silly. You know a therapist might help, but you’ve been busy. And—

“You have your own problems,” You start, “I can’t ask you to take on my problems, too.”

“I asked you to talk about it,” he responds, “Besides, we don’t even know each other. You’re not burdening me, I promise.” And you’re inclined to believe him.

So, you take a deep breath and search for your words.

“I just can’t find a reason.” You start. “I’ve always been able to find a reason before, a reason to keep going, to push ahead, but..” You blink. “I just can’t find it. I’ve gone through all my usuals.”

“What about your mom?” he asks, recalling your earlier comment about him.

“She was the reason for a long time.” You confess, “But she has my stepdad now. Everyone’s taken care of. My friends, my siblings, my mom.. The only one who’s alone is me.”

The Devil doesn’t say it, but his heart aches for you.

“People would miss you,” he recalls his own depression, “They’d grieve you as intensely as they love you.” He reminds, and you know that.

“They’d find a way to move on.” You reason, “They’d have to figure it out.”

“How long have you been dealing with these feelings?”

“As long as I can remember.” You respond, “I thought if I could survive my childhood, it would stop. Moving here, that was supposed to be the end, but..” You frown. “After the honeymoon phase, I’m just back in that hole.”

“There’s ways to get you out of that hole,” He promises.

“How?” You demand, tears filling your eyes, “Tell me a reason I should keep going that I haven’t heard, that I haven’t thought, that actually gets through to me,” You ask.

He pauses. It’s a tall order.

“You know there’s no magical cure.” He starts, “But you find the little things. You can’t find any big reason to live? Fine. Find the small reasons,” He reasons, “The way sun feels on your skin, your favorite team winning a game, a homecooked meal.”

“Give me a big reason.” You request.

“I can hear heartbeats,” he says, and when you scoff, he shakes his head, “No, seriously. So, here’s your big reason: Don’t make me listen to your heart stop beating.”

It’s a low blow. A hit to your core, right to the part of you that feels guilty you even have these feelings.

“Let me walk you home.” He says after a moment.

“I live in this building,” You say, and for a moment, you almost think that the Devil tenses, like he hadn’t realized that.

“Then let me walk you to your apartment. It’s cold out here, c’mon.” He offers.

“How do you know I won’t just do it tomorrow? Or after you leave?”

“I trust you,” And somehow you don’t believe him. But he swings his legs around and stands on the solid ground of the roof. He offers his hand to you again. “Let’s go inside.”

You take his hand and let him guide you off the ledge, and it only takes a few steps for you to start crying—truly sobbing at the idea of what you were about to do. The Devil is right; tonight won’t be the night.

And as soon as he listens to you start sobbing, his arms are around you like he’s known you your entire life. He’s warm, safe. His hand gently rubs your back, his pointer finger running up and down your spine. The Devil gives wonderful hugs, it reminds you of hot soup on a winter day, the first hot day of spring after a long winter, and a memory from before depression reared it’s ugly head at you, of being three, maybe four years old on Christmas Eve, wrapped in blankets, safe and loved, with a full stomach of food.

You don’t know him, but you know right then and there that you’ll be grateful to him forever.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, his voice like a lullaby, “You’re okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” You can tell he means the words, that they aren’t obligatory, but genuine. He’ll look after you. He lets you cry into his shoulder for a long time, reminding you to breath.

When there’s no tears left to cry, The Devil gently pulls away, his hand now on your cheek as he wipes away the tears that run down your face.

And there’s only one thing left to say,

“Let me take you home.” He says gently. And you nod, words escaping you. You walk with him down to your apartment, letting him tuck you into bed after drinking some water. As you wait for sleep to find you, he gently brushes hair from your face as he asks, “Promise me you’ll call someone tomorrow. A therapist, a help line, your mom. Promise me you’ll find the help you need. Promise me you’ll find a reason.”

Studying his features, since, you don’t know when you’ll see him again, you nod.

“I promise.”

He leans forward and kisses your forehead. It’s foreign. Welcomed. Paternal.

“Good. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” You request, and you see the corners of his lips twitch up.

“I’ll tell you what,” He starts, “I’ll come visit you tomorrow night, too. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen saves people—but not everyone needs to be saved in the same way.

He waits for you to fall asleep before he leaves, breaking the lock on the door up to the roof so you can’t get up there, not until they fix it. Then, he makes his way to the window on the other side of your floor, to the apartment down the hall from yours.

He crawls into the window and pulls off his cowl, before showering, and then crawling into bed. He hopes you’ll find a reason, but he knows he’ll show up again if you can’t. That’s just the type of person he is.

[lialialialialialialialiaa]

okay guys this is that one fic that got deleted about hamzah but i have the screenshots of it so i’m gonna copy and paste it all and i’ll tag the people that wanted to have it!!!!

THIS IS NOT MY FIC!!!!!!! im just reblogging it for the people who wanted it

@hamzahsfav @slushynoobzluvr @lovretrait

i would tag everyone who replied but i cant for some reason🙁

Your last straw is close to snapping. You're sure of it.

That's the thought that's been looping inside your mind as you sit on top of the sheets of your bed, ankles crossed. You pop your bubblegum, eyes trained on the man sat in your chair across the room. 21:06.

That's what the clock reads. It's been an hour since Hamzah arrived, bashful smile at the door as he apologised for setting this session back an hour.

"And, you see, the specific shape of the active site of an enzyme enables it to function," Hamzah drawls on, unfaltered by your clear disinterest. Maybe he doesn't see; his nose is pulled tightly in his book. "It's - It's really a simple understanding of 'lock and key. You can think of enzyme activity as molecular collisions resulting in the formation of enzyme-substrate complexes." All the terms blur together in your mind.

In one ear, transformed and decorated by the thought of anything else, then out the other.

You almost feel bad for Hamzah, pulled into your room to try get you to learn something, anything, for two hours, just so he can earn some extra money. He sits at your desk while you distract yourself with whatever is more interesting which, as it so happens, is almost everything. He doesn't complain, doesn't say much to you other than hey and a string of jargon you don't care to understand. It's not like your bitchy, unimpressed stare is very welcoming.

Hamzah has this certain aura around him. A loser trapped in a hot body.

Really, he could be getting absolutely no play, or the exact opposite, it's hard to tell with those nerdy shirts and nervous energy. But does energy matter when he's gorgeous? He's got big, brown eyes, with a charming shy smile, and adorable curly hair. Girls would look away a flutter of red flags if it meant birthing kids with those traits.

You sigh, pushing the textbooks off your bed, rolling to your belly. You rest your chin on your crossed arms, eyeing Hamzah. He gives you a look at the shifting noise, rounding his eyes as they fall on the stripe of skin your loose lounging shorts have revealed in the crossfire. It's barely a few centimeters of your asscheeks, but Hamzah blushes all the same, flipping back to his book as though burned. You smirk.

Interesting.

"Hamzah" you trail lightly, the cadence of a song.

You found your bright new, shining distraction. Your smile is vicious and dangerous, ready to bite, to gnaw to the bone.

Hamzah looks up at you, incertain. You rarely address him during your tutoring lessons. You're not even sure you've said his name before, at least not to him. "I'm bored with biology," you declare, artfully pouty and dejected.

"Oh," he says. He swallows thickly. Flips through his book. His nervous tics make him all the more tantalizing to you. Some cruel need to toughen him up. “Um—“

You lick your teeth, grinning. "I want to study anatomy."

Hamzah laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"That's not in the syllabus." There's something about the way he tries to display like he has a total misunderstanding of your line, like he misses the intention you clearly display, that makes the need frizzle inside of you. An innocent little thing, to pick and devour through.

You sit up, resting your weight on your heels. Your knees part suggestively, the loose shorts riding up your thighs. Your crop top sits up your ribs. Belly button piercing winks at him. Hamzah takes in the sight, face pale. You grin, victorious.

"I didn't mean that anatomy," you say, teasing. You rest a hand loosely on your leg, purposefully dragging his stare down to it. Your delicately painted nails flash against your skin.

"Oh." He swallows thickly, hypnotized by the soft flesh of your thighs. "I-" He shakes his head, as if to draw himself out of the daydream. "I, um-" He repeats, then laughs, "What?"

You sigh, kneeling up and getting off the bed. Your bare feet wiggle in the fuzzy, soft carpet. You prowl to him, predator-like. His breath hitches in his throat, right where you want it.

"Hamzah," you sing, and he chokes at the sound. Just his name drives him wild - good to know. You get close enough to lean on the desk, to tower over him.

He blinks up at you, robbed of speech. You flutter your eyelashes at him. "Are you a virgin?"

His lips part in surprise, but he doesn't answer. Not that he needs to; the fucking sight of him is enough to know. It's about the fun of watching him stumble, stutter, push his little glasses up his nose, telltale signs you revel in.

You sit on the desk, bunching his careful notes. You trail two fingers up his shoulder, that awful cheesy shirt. You almost resent the feel of it on your skin, if not for the way he shivers.

You pout mockingly at him, stopping where the collar of his shirt meets the skin of his neck. "Are you gonna answer me?"

"Yeah, l'm- yes." You run your fingertips on his neck, a grazing touch that has him staring up at you in devotion. You smirk.

"Have you ever been touched like this?" You run your thumb to the other side of his neck, a strong path. You want him to feel it, until your hand stretches over his throat, possessive.

He swallows under your palm, Adam's apple bobbing on your fortune-telling palm lines. "No," he admits quietly. You feel it resonate more than you hear it.

You hum, silently thrilled. "And have you ever been kissed?" You whisper.

Hamzah stares up at you. He waits a second, two-takes his time. "No." You smirk. You pick your gum between two fingers, pressing it into the corner of his notes. Perfect.

It's a little awkward, of course, because you're perched on the desk and he's sitting all the way down on his chair, gripping its arms. But, still, you bend down and kiss him square on the mouth.

He gasps against you, freezing there. You're undeterred; you kiss and kiss him, smearing your strawberry lipgloss, until he snaps into action and kisses you back. It's a rhythmless, artless thing.

He doesn't know how to kiss.

What he lacks in technique, he makes up in eagerness, opening his mouth and licking a wet tongue into yours. You giggle a little, taste the Sour Patch kids he nervously ate from his bag between two scientific words you purposefully didn't remember. You press at his throat, just so he's as breathless as you are. He moans against your lips, panting.

Hamzah doesn't dare touch. His body is fixed to the desk chair, letting himself be kissed, taking only what you are willing to offer. He sits there like you are breathing life into his mouth, eating and eating and never asking for more. It's what makes you want to give him more.

You pull away from him, straightening like a queen taking her throne. Under you, the pages wrinkle and ruffle, and he doesn't even care. His lips are swollen and pink, shiny from the lipgloss. Breaths puff out from there, pulling attention.

"You're really pretty," you admit lowly, like a secret he should know.

"Thanks," he flushes.

You release his throat, wiping your pink gloss off his lips. They part instinctively. You smile, slipping your thumb inside. He sucks the strawberry, warm tongue on your fingerprint. Power loosens your head.

"Do you want me?" You ask, as though his mouth drooling around your thumb wasn't indication enough.

You want the words; you want the worship.

"Yeth," he says, choking on your finger. You smile, taking it out and drying it on his cheek.

You don't make a big show of taking your shirt off.

Your hands are at the hem of your baby tee, then it's off your shoulders, thrown on the pink carpet. Hamzah whines, surprised and overwhelmed, throwing a furtive glance at the cracked door of your bedroom.

"It's okay," you whisper, taking his hand. Soft and weak; he hasn't worked a day in his life. It's slack between your fingers. He lets you puppeteer it to your breasts, lets you grope yourself with him as an instrument.

He makes another small noise from the back of his throat, staring at the fucking sight like he can't quite believe it truly is his own hand. "God," he mutters to himself, and it's exactly how you feel.

"Say thank you," you taunt him, because you know he will.

"Y/n," he sighs, looking at you pleadingly. He's embarrassed, and you'd stop if it didn't turn you on so much. You raise your brows at him expectantly, waiting.

Like clockwork, Hamzah lowly revels, "Thank you." You grin, satisfied. Growing bold, he rubs a thumb over your hard nipple, a tough callus you didn't expect on the tip of it. It makes you moan; a crack in your spotless armor, but he doesn't even notice. Too preoccupied with playing with your tits, pawing at it greedily.

"Can I-" He flushes, shaking his head.

"What?"

"Can I lick them?" A drop of heat strikes through you.

You clench your thighs, arching your back into his readied palm.

"Yes." He leans in before you've finished the 's, sucking your abandoned nipple into his mouth. He licks and rubs and pinches, raw skill pulling at your sensitive skin. You bite back groans, breathing harshly. Your chest rises and falls into his mouth, but he's just as diligent.

You rake a long-nailed hand into his hair, scratching his scalp with every particularly delicious lick. He moans at that, vibrating on your sensitive nipples.

He sticks his tongue out, panting like a dog, dipping down to the valley of your tits and pressing a kiss, then climbing up a new breast. He bites gently, and you jump, surprised by his boldness.

"Sorry," he whispers. You don't like this little switch-up in power. He's supposed to be purring for you, enthrallment shining in his eyes. You tug on his hair, making him look at you.

Hamzah stares up, dutiful. He doesn't care about the power game; hasn't even realized you were slipping.

He takes what you give.

You soothe away the sting of his hair. "Pretty boy," you coo. Hamzah beams at that, you can see it in his eyes.

"Wanna ruin you."

With this, you jump off the desk, and kneel under it.

"Oh," Hamzah says, eyes wide as he watches you fumble with his pants. You unbutton and unzip, fast and knowledgeable, dipping into his boxers— "Wait."

You look up at him, inches from your goal. You cock your head, frowning. "What?"

"Just-" He pants, staring at you with those big, brown eyes. God. "Just give me a second."

You hum, grazing a finger on the faint happy trail of his stomach. His belly sucks in. "Are you nervous?"

"No," he says. Lie. "Yes. I don't know." He nervously laughs. His hands still grip the armrests, white-knuckled. "Why are you doing this?"

You shrug. "I want to." You tip your head, kissing his soft hand. "Do you want me to?"

"Well, yeah."

You grin. "Relax." Finally, your hand slips under his underwear, and you wrap around his hard length. He gasps, cold fingers against hot skin, fingers against him.

His hips jump into your fist as you draw him out.

Another nervous glance to the door, still half-opened.

There's nobody else home, he knows this, so you wonder why he seems so cautious. You lick your lips.

Perhaps it's the thought that your roommates could come back any moment.

You lightly scratch your nails against him. You run a thumb on his tip, smearing precum. He hisses, turning into a moan as you slowly drag your hand down. He's frozen and tense, almost afraid of moving, as if that would make you go away.

"Teach me," you say.

He blinks at you, dazed. "Huh?"

Your eyes vaguely look up to the desk you hide under, biology notes in his scratchy writing laying wrinkled.

"Biology. I'm paying you for a reason, aren't I?"

"Oh-" He flushes, embarrassed. Pushes his glasses up. "Right, right." His hands let go of the armrests, searching through the pages. You choose this moment to kiss the tip of his cock. He whimpers, shutting his eyes in pleasure. "Fuck." You giggle, all too happy.

He struggles to find where you disturbed him, biting his lip in comical concentration. You tease him, enjoying all the little breaths he chokes on, the soft sounds he tries to hide. Your hand pumps up and down, twisting at the wrist.

You wonder how often he's done this on himself, who he imagined between his legs.

From now, it'll be you. You'll make sure of it.

"Right, so," Hamzah starts, out of breath. "In some reactions," he continues arduously, "one substrate is broken down into multiple products. And-" Devilishly, you lick a stripe up his length. He groans, twitching on your tongue. "Shit," he mutters.

He drags his stare down, pulling away from his notes to watch you. You indulge him, parting your lips and wrapping them around his tip. You suck on it gently.

His face wrinkles, a moan breaking from him. You pull your head down, swallowing him. He clutches at his papers, scrunching them himself.

"Oh, God," Hamzah says, trying to catch his breath as you bob your head. "I'm- Shit."

You let go of him with a wet pop, stroking him quickly.

"Shh," you tease him. "You're too loud." Again, he throws a nervous look towards the door.

Saliva and lipgloss and precum already lube him, but you keep your hand at his base as you spit on his cock.

You drag it down his length. Hamzah's eyes snap towards you. "Do that again." He wants to see you.

You smirk, tilting your head to leave wet kisses up his cock, then lick his tip. You spit on it, and a low groan resonates from him. His hips rise up into your hand, but you push them down with your claws.

"Fuck," he whimpers from the back of his throat, melting on the chair. He likes it messy. You grin, peppering little kisses over his cock, smearing him in strawberry lipgloss.

"What's the other thing?"

"Huh?" He blinks, tying himself back to reality. "Right, um, substrates. It's-" Again, you choose this moment to push him down your throat. He loses speech, mumbling incoherent syllables, some broken version of your name.

Though your head bobs quickly, pulling further and further down his length, twisting a stroking hand all the same, you pinch your nails at his hip. He jumps, struck out of the daze of pleasure, blinking down at you.

"Yeah, it's — The other reactions are-" You let go of his hip, pinching your own nipple instead. Hamzah whines, losing his train of thought. "You're not being fair."

You laugh, spitting him out to catch your breath. You grope yourself and he watches, not sure which hand to focus on. His cheeks are tinted red, maybe from effort, or adrenaline, or shyness. It's cute enough to bite.

Wonder shines in his eyes. He can't believe this is happening; he's eternally grateful, as he should be. As they all should have been, those faceless men you've blown in the bathrooms of parties for attention and a momentary stop to complete boredom. They stayed quiet, almost afraid to make noise, to show they enjoyed it, until they shook and spilled inside your mouth. Hamzah's not afraid to moan.

Your brain rushes, sticky happy. You pant on his cock, trailing a finger down your stomach, then dipping in your shorts. Hamzah's eyes widen, straightening to catch a glimpse. You smile, catching a pool of your arousal.

You come back up, fingers sticky and wet with your slick, and smear it on his cock. Hamzah scrunches his face, whimpering, shaking under your hands.

"You're trying to kill me."

"Only because it's easy," you mock, jerking and twisting your two hands in rhythm, wet sounds ringing in the room.

You free his cock, gripping the armrests of the chair instead. You wrap your mouth around it, and bend down until your nose touches the faint smatterings of dark hair on his belly. You gag on him, and he strangles the edge of the desk trying to kill his moans.

You pump him in your mouth quickly, feeling him twitch and rise to meet you. He remembers himself, falling down on the chair dutifully, not even burying a needy hand in your hair, as though afraid that would be asking for too much.

You drag up, making him hit the inside of your cheek, before releasing him. You spit the precum on him, blinking up through teary eyes. He doesn't have any words, red swollen lip bitten raw.

"I taste great," you say, and then offer up your still-wet fingers to him. He's eager, sucking them into his mouth. He bobs, imitating you, and the sight and feel makes hot desire drip inside of you.

You want to squeeze him until he pops.

You take his hand, pulling it into your hair. He grips instinctively, pushing it out of your face. "Don't push," you warn, serious. He nods frantically, and you trust him to mean it.

You take him into your mouth for what you know is the final time. You're certain he won't last long, droopy and moaning and twitching, hissing every time your tongue runs on him. You bob with skill and precision still. He tugs at your hair, both hands in now, trembling in the mess of it. He never pushes, or fucks his hips up; trusts you to undo him yourself.

He swears and curses and whimpers, head falling down and back, vacillating between the sky and your red, puffy face. You don't think he's even aware of himself, doesn't even process the sounds he's letting out, doesn't give himself even a second to feel embarrassed.

"Fuck, fuck— this isn't—," he whispers to himself, sounding wild. "You're killing me. I'm gonna- I'm gonna-" Hamzah cries, slapping a hand over his mouth, and comes down your throat. He shakes, moans hidden in his palm, eyes shut and forehead wrinkled.

He lets go of your hair with a fucked-out sigh, panting.

His eyes never leave you, disbelief written all over it.

You pull him out of your throat, and smile at him.

You're about to swallow when he touches your arm, unsure of where he's allowed to now. "Wait, can you-"

He grows embarrassed, blushing. "Can you open your mouth?”

You part your lips, showing off his white cum still sitting on your tongue. He whimpers at the sight, fingers digging into your arm. His breathing turns irregular, cheeks reddening, eyes darkening. He's so strange.

Still, you stick your tongue out, putting his load in evidence, making a spectacle of it. He looks tortured, enthralled.

You stay long enough that you feel it run down, long white rope hanging from your tongue, then dropping on your breast.

"Fuck," Hamzah whispers to himself. Seemingly without thinking, he runs his thumb on your breast, catching his cum and sucking it between his lips.

You smile, slurping the cum back into your mouth, and swallowing it. You flash your red tongue at him. "All clean."

"Thank you," Hamzah says. "I- I'm not sure why you did that, but- I, you know, appreciate it." He's so polite. You'd laugh if he wouldn't snap back into that little head box of his.

"I'm very thankful for all those lessons," you wink.

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not." Hamzah's finger rubs the skin of your arm, that strangely tough callus, and it has you leaning into his touch. "Though, this has been my favorite lesson."

"God, I couldn't even get a word out."

"Hence why."

Hamzah snorts and he offers you a hand. You grab it to manoeuvre out from under the desk. You push your sweaty hair out of your face, then wipe the leftover stickiness from your breasts.

Hamzah, of course, follows the movement to your tits.

He swallows. "Do you, um," he pushes his glasses up.

"Do you want, like, something back?"

You arch an eyebrow, incapable of holding a small giggle this time. "Do you know how?"

He stares into your eyes. "I could try."

And, again, there's just something about his eagerness, his willingness, his open devotion, that has you saying, "Yeah, I guess you could try."

You tiptoe to your bedroom door, looking left and right into the hallway, before quietly shutting it. You turn around to a displeased Hamzah. "Oh, so you get to have it closed?"

'''S fun when you're struggling, besides, you know no one's home," you shrug, devilish. You run to the bed, falling on the pillows, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

"Come here. cutie." He practicallv trips out of his chair to find you. He's three steps in when you stop him.

"Take your clothes off."

He grows shy under your gaze. Staying in place, fingers shaking, he starts to lift off his shirt. He kicks off his sneakers and his baggy jeans until he stands there in his boxers. He's as hot as you imagined him to be. You smile.

Hamzah crosses his arms. "Can I see you, too?" He whispers.

You shimmy your shorts off your legs and throw it beyond the bed. Hamzah's stare stutters on your pink lace, wet patch where your desire pooled.

You draw a hand towards him and he takes it, falling over you on the bed. He doesn't waste time, giving you a sloppy kiss before mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, your tits. He laps at them first and you wonder if he's trying to get the last lingering taste of his cum. He catches a nipple next and sucks it.

Gaspy moans leave your lips. You part your legs instinctively and he buries between them, already hardening. His cock hits your thigh and he sucks and pinches and plays until you start thinking he might really be able to try.

Your hands descend down his back, freckled under your nails. You grip his waist, pushing at his hip, the hem of his boxers. Hamzah understands, leaving you long enough to kick them off. He pants in front of you, leaning back already, wet, swollen mouth parted.

Hamzah lays over you again and his hard cock presses into your need. You scratch your nails up his back and he jerks, bucking into you. A moan leaves both your mouths. He tries again, artless, just off your clit.

"Oh," he whispers, mostly to himself. He does it again, building and building heat inside of you, yet never relieving.

You huff. You sneak a hand between your bodies, moving your underwear aside until he slips under it.

Another boy would have taken the opportunity, would have buried inside before you even had time to nod, but Hamzah doesn't even think of it.

He humps your wet cunt, tucked tight under your underwear, hem pressing his length. Hamzah moans every time, quickening, desperate. He tilts his hand to better see as his cock bulges the cloth, a wet patch forming where his precum stains.

"Fuck."

And it's better; he's faster, and firmer, and mostly there. He follows your little puffs of shameful breaths, staying where they transform into slack moans.

Pleasure starts waking up inside your belly, sickly warm.

But you've had boys hump at you before, had them bucking between your legs. You know it's not what will get you off. You need your mind stimulated, to be so thoroughly hot and desperate you finally let yourself

до.

You pinch the nape of his neck, making him look at you. A slack, messy smirk lays on your lips. You tease,

"Have you ever thought of me during our tutoring sessions?"

Hamzah's hips stutter. He looks away. "Like..."

"Yeah, like, on my knees."

Hamzah blushes. "Well, yeah."

You grin, too pleased. A deadly smile, hunting.

"When?"

"I don't know..." He mutters. You scowl to yourself, and maybe he senses that, because his chin grazes your shoulder and he admits shamefully, "When you ate that popsicle. And you licked and you slurped and you sucked and, just- I'm a guy. I had visions."

"I had visions." You imitate, mocking. You tsk, "You're such a nerd." You roll your hips back against him and a whimper buries in the skin of your shoulder. "Was it how you imagined?"

"Better." He nods fervently. "So much fucking better. I actually died, I think. You're insane." Pride and power makes your head loose, makes pleasure ripple through your flesh.

You claw at his skin, warning dangerously, "You like it." All it does is make him moan, bucking faster against you. Your toes curl. You breathe in his ear, "Tell me more."

"I, uh- Shit." The tip of his cock burrows in your underwear as he slides, wet and slick from you. He shivers over you. "I'd think about— bending you over the desk."

Your smile ghosts your face, grazing his soft, fresh cheek. "Really?"

"Just, you know, when you wouldn't listen. And you'd pop that chewing gum, and you'd ignore me, and you'd be mean."

You smirk, clicking your tongue. "So you wanted to, what, toughen me up? Take your revenge?"

His cheeks redden. "No." His lips brush your shoulders, and he kisses, opposite. "I don't know. I wanted you to pay attention." He licks your neck. "I wanted to make you scream." Mouths at your jaw. "I wanted to fuck you. Or I- I wanted you."

You can't believe you're now the one blushing. You pant, glad he's buried in your throat, that he can't see.

A moan slips from you as he nips gently at your skin.

Your eyes roll in your skull.

"You like when I'm mean to you?" You tease meanly, out of breath. You scratch his back, burying your hand in his hair, and tugging until he looks you in the eyes.

"Gets you all bothered?"

Hamzah shivers, whining, "Fuck, please-"

You push him onto his back, rolling over. Two hands press into his chest, and you might very well concave his ribcage. You stare him down, divine. "You wanted to fuck me?"

His messy, unbrushed hair falls around his head like a halo. He's sweet enough to make your head spin. He watches you openly behind the glass of his specs, breathing, "Yes."

You trail your fingernails on his hard cock, down to his base. "And now?"

Devoting, "Yes."

A rush of thrill fills you. You kneel up, shimmying your underwear off. Hamzah gasps at the sight, raking a hungry gaze up and down your body. He holds the sheets of your bed with white-knuckled fingers.

You waste no time, rocking your cunt against his tip once, twice, before slowly lowering yourself on him.

You inhale at the stretch. Hamzah's eyes shut, whining. "Look at me," you order, and he listens.

His eyes flash open. He blinks at you as you bottom out. His head rolls, shaking. "Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." You go to move up, but he holds your hip down.

He takes deep breaths. "Can we- Just, this is-"

"It's okay," you whisper, taking his hand and placing it over the regular beating of your heart. He thumbs your nipple while he's there, breathing in sync with your pulse. You slowly roll your hips on him.

Hamzah moans, gripping the flesh of your thigh. You let him adjust to the feel of it, rocking softly, dragging your clit on his pelvis. You bite your lip raw as pleasure blooms inside of you. Your thighs ache to go faster, harder, but you maintain the delicate pace for him.

Just that has him shaking under you, and you once again grip his hand over your heart to ground him.

"Sorry," he says with an embarrassed laugh. "Fuck," is immediately added when you circle your hips, his eyes rolling. "Fuck, sorry."

"Stop apologizing," you order. "What are the other reactions?" You say, attempting to drag him out of his anxiety-filled head. He frowns at you. "Of enzymes."

His lips part. "I didn't know you knew that term."

You roll your eyes, then your hips, euphoria fizzling under your skin. "I listen to you." His unconvinced look betrays him. "Sometimes."

"They're, um- Shit. They come together to create one

- fuck, one larger molecule or-" You finally rock faster, angling your hips to have him bury inside you right where you need him. You moan, chest rising and falling quickly. Your legs grow desperate; you chase that sickly pleasure.

"Yeah?" You encourage him on, seeing his own pleasure resonate in his face. He bites his lip, pawing uselessly at your thigh. "Or?" You're out of breath.

"Or swap pieces," he finally finishes between two moans. Chuckles, "Actually, pretty much all biological reactions you can think of probably-" Your hips fall harsher on him and he loses his train of thought, overwhelmed. You smile, setting a wild pace, completely unfair.

"Probably what?" You say, teasing, "I'm always thinking about biological reactions."

"Don't tease," he pouts, and you slow down your thrusts just to spite him. He whines, pressing his short fingernails into the skin of your thigh.

"Come on." You make him look you in the eyes, mocking, "Educate me."

"They all have enzymes," Hamzah finally finishes. You reward him by reaching down and pinching his nipple.

He whimpers, cursing your name. "Why have you suddenly decided to be a good student?"

'Cause you're adorable when you're struggling to find words," you answer honestly. You hold your weight up on the hand pressed into his chest, angling your hips until your clit rubs and rubs his pelvis. Your eyes roll, fucking him quicker. "Fuck. I love when I can make you all stupid for me." The power in changing up his DNA composition, making a smart boy incapable of remembering all the jargon you yourself don't know, is addictive. Undoing him block by block until he's putty in your hands. Hamzah just moans, not arguing.

Sweat pearls his forehead. The white sheets make him angelic. He breathes your name, fluttering his eyelashes at you. "Can I try on top?" Maybe it's because he looks so reverent, so innocent, that you nod.

Hamzah doesn't push you and roll you over, instead staying there, as though waiting for it to just magically happen. You giggle to yourself, unmounting him and falling back on the mattress, legs parted. He swallows thickly, laying over you.

His glasses fall down his nose and you laugh, grabbing them and carefully placing them on your nightstand.

He blinks, adjusting to the blurry sight.

His hand shakes as he grabs himself and lines up. He misses once, twice, until you rest a soothing hand on his and guide him. Hamzah moans in your hair as he slides in. He stays in your wet heat for a second, catching his breath, before he thrusts.

And it's bad, of course. He doesn't have any rhythm, bucking blindly inside of you. It's a strange pace, irregular and powerless. He certainly can't find any type of mindnumbing spot. Pleasure simmers lowly in your belly, heat turned off almost to nothing if it weren't for the pretty moans that bury straight in your ear.

You grab his hip, making him look at you. "Start slow," you instruct, guiding him. He follows the movements of your hand, rocking back and forth, slow but regular.

"There," you nod, arching your back. "Just, tilt-" He repositions himself, eager to learn, and you shudder.

You call his name, syrupy with moans.

He's a fast learner, following diligently the guidings of your gripping hand. He fucks into you slowly, but surely. Your toes curl. Pleasure wakes up again, coiling in your belly. "Like this?" He breathes. You nod, encouraging him on.

"It's like I'm tutoring you," you remark, chuckling to yourself. Hamzah snorts. "I like being the smart one for once."

Hamzah frowns. "You're always smart." He says it without thinking, because he means it. Something wet chokes your throat, tugs at your lips. You stare up at his dark eyes, holding them through fanned lashes, searching for any hint of a lie behind his words. Truth.

You swallow, heart growing. "You just don't listen."

"Would you like me to?" You say, tone taunting. A self-destroying instinct, telling you to hurt, to ruin. "Make me your little pet? Be all obedient? Have me sucking your cock while you tell me all about biology?"

His eyebrows furrow. "Do you want me to do that?" All your bullets don't land. He's unconcerned on what he wants. You huff.

Instead of reckoning, you order, "Faster, now." Hamzah nods against your cheek. He obeys, thrusting quicker.

You let go of his hip, climbing up his back just to rake your nails down it. His hips snap faster, harsher, endeavored. You grin, licking his jaw, kissing the bone

"Fuck," he whimpers, catching your lips and kissing you. You wrap your arms around his neck, trapping him there as he ruts between your legs. You swallow all the sounds he makes, kill the swears you think of saying. Euphoria washes you.

He leaves your lips just to smack wet kisses over your face, again and again. On your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin. He mouths down your throat, starts sucking and nipping at the side. You bury a hand into his hair, pushing him further down. "Not the neck," you explain, breathy.

Hamzah finds the side of your tits and he buries there, sucking at your skin. You arch into his mouth, pleasure rushing up your side at the pinpricks of pain. He moans against you, bucking faster. Your mind spins and spins. "Hamzah." Again, he speeds up, harsh and wild. "Fucking hell, Hamzah."

You tug at his hair and he releases you, lips wet and swollen. He pants over you, eyes dazed with pleasure.

A new wave of heat strikes you just from the sight of him, unmade and wild. You sneak a hand between your bodies. You find your clit easily, rubbing.

Hamzah's head drops to watch you. He whines, seeing where he disappears inside of you, over and over, where your nails swipe at you.

He leans his weight on one arm, joining his own hand with yours. You're surprised at the act, at the willingness of involving himself in the complicated business of your pleasure. Your fingers stop, resting up on your stomach.

He paws blindly at your cunt, just a little off where you need him. You grip his wrist, angling him at the right place, gently circling and swiping with his finger. The callus presses on your clit and it's a delicious sensation. You roll your eyes, crying out, then slapping your palm over your mouth. Hamzah grins proudly, continuing to rub at you.

"This is good, right?" He whispers, pretty eyes all vulnerable on you.

You nod frantically. "Yes. It's good." You melt on the sheets, parting your legs further. "It's really good." His cheeks flush at the compliment. You wrap your hand around his throat, resting there with silent ownership.

"Did you ever think it'd be me?"

He chokes on a laugh and a moan. "No. I never thought you'd ever even give me a look."

You hum, pleased with the answer. He realizes it's a privilege. You grin, pressing your fingers on the sides of his neck. His hips stutter, then snap even faster, a broken cry leaving him. His lips part in quiet ecstasy.

His eyes shut, rapid movement behind his eyelids.

You grin at him. "Well, you deserve it, helping me out this much."

You release him, at least giving him a chance. He falls into your shoulder, taking deep inhales, shaking.

"Thank you," he says, mumbly. "Thank you, baby, fuck." You rake through his hair, soothing. "Aw, fuck, I'm gonna-" He twitches inside of you.

"Not inside!" You shout. Hamzah gasps, thrusting out of you. He cries as he comes on your navel and cunt.

He catches his breath, blinking himself back to this reality, still shaking.

"Sorry," he says, shortwinded. A pang of

disappointment hits you. It's not like you've ever come with someone else before, but it had felt really close this time.

At least Hamzah tried.

Hamzah watches his cum painted over your skin, catching your piercing, mixing with the slick of your cunt. He moans to himself, then bends down between your thighs.

You rest on your elbows, frowning. "What—" He licks a stripe over your cunt, tasting both your juices.

Euphoria strikes through you. Your back hits the mattress as you fall back, legs shaking. "Hamzah." He hums, faraway, licking and licking to clean you all up.

You bury a hand in his hair, grounding him in place.

He finds your clit, rubbing it with the tip of his tongue, circling then sucking it. You jolt on the bed, biting back a scream. You frown to yourself, tugging on his hair, fire boiling inside your stomach. What the fuck.

He laps at you, moaning every time your nails scratch his scalp, the sound vibrating against you. A hand wraps around your thigh, keeping you open for him.

He devours you eagerly, hungrily, until you're a mess melting into his mouth.

"God, Hamzah," you cry. You have to actually hold back another one with a slap of your hand, shocked at yourself as you scream into your palm.

Hamzah stops, breathing harshly, and you throw a glance down in question. He climbs up your stomach, lapping at your skin, cleaning the last of his cum. You whimper at the dirty sight, desire drumming down your limbs.

He throws you a hot look. Tongue out, full of white cum. He goes back between your legs and buries it in your cunt, fucking it in. You jump, cursing to the ceiling. He laughs, greedily tasting you.

You roll your hips into his face, hitting the tip of his nose on your clit. Every strike has ecstasy resonating in your bones. You feel light on your bones.

His lips wrap around your clit. He sucks, grazing a tongue, swiping and circling like you showed him. You recognize the same pattern, recognize the rhythm. Of course he's a fast learner.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, choked by your hand.

You raise your hips into his mouth, silently begging.

Your legs shake, desperate. Pressure pushes at your belly. Your eyes roll. "Don't stop."

He mumbles something in your cunt, probably a promise or a praise, dutifully not stopping. He laps and eats and fucks until your brain melts into your skull, dripping down your spine.

"Oh, fuck, l'm-" Your head shakes fervently. "Just stay

- Shit, Hamzah, just- I-" The pressure snaps and you come on his readied tongue, screaming. Hot white flashes in your vision. Relief washes you, dipping to every crevices, relaxing you. He moans against your cunt.

Hamzah continues to lick you, mission-bound, until your lungs are on fire and you physically push him away. He smiles up at you, chin sticky and wet and red. He wipes it, kneeling.

"Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?" You say, shortwinded, shocked to your bones. You stare at him like he's grown a second head.

It's the first time someone other than your knowing hand made you come. And it's fucking Hamzah. You blink at him.

“What?” He laughs, falling beside you on the bed.

You gesture vaguely downwards. "That."

"Oh," he blushes. Shrugs. "I don't know. I watch stuff," You laugh, shaking your head. "You perv. Knew you weren't all innocent,"

Hamzah grins, cheekily proud. He gently grazes the bruise he left on your breast, the splotch of red that will darken, be a leftover trace of him.

"Thanks," he says simply.

"You're welcome." You shift your legs, feeling the wetness still between them. "Thanks to you too, I guess." He grins, hiding in the white pillows.

He gives you a look. "Will you listen when I tutor you now?"

You smirk mischievously. "Maybe if you have my fingers in your mouth."

"Oh," Hamzah says, eyes wide. "Will you — Will this happen again?"

You make a noncommittal shrug, though a more definite answer hums in your heart. "Maybe if you're really good." You smile to yourself. "Or really boring, and I need to shut you up."

"You can shut me up any day."

"I know." You linger in that moment for just a second more, eyes locked together, smiles tickling your lips.

Then you sit up, reaching for your underwear.

"Session's almost done."

Hamzah nods, lips thin. "Right." He pats the nightstand for his glasses.

You dress yourselves, wiping away sweat and cum, brushing wild strands. On the way to the door, your roommates arrive back home, in the process of taking off their shoes when you catch their eyes.

"I didn't know you'd be here, Hamzah," One of them says. You don't like her tone, or the way her eyes glaze over him, like he's a prize she's chasing. Hamzah awkwardly laughs, looking over at you for some type of guidance.

"He's just leaving,"

She pouts, "That's a shame,"

A green fire flames in the pit of your stomach, glowing and thrashing, a mix of jealousy and possessiveness that grows with each second too long she looks at him. It's unsettling, so incredibly annoying, watching your roommate stare at him like some kind of God, merely minutes after taking his innocence, as if you just painted him in some type of glow, that only now people want to take what's yours.

You can't stand it, tugging on Hamzah's arm and guiding him to the door. "Hamzah," her voice has both of you snapping your heads back,

"Are you busy tomorrow? I was wondering if you wanted to go out?"

Fuck off.

And maybe you wouldn't have spoken up if he didn't look to you right away, lost puppy eyes and all, like your approval and opinion is all that matters to him. So you take control, "Oh, Hamzah's busy tomorrow, right?"

"Right," He nods, unconvincing. But it's okay because he won't be lying, you'll make sure he's busy because he's yours now.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hello, first of all HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! I hope you had a happy birthday today !

I recently read your recent fic (The Sun eats the Moon) and the writting was amazing. But I have some question in my mind like :

"After that maybe 'Reader' could take contraception in secret, no ?"

"Is she (or they) gonna end up married to him, and forced to be a housewife or just following him where he goes ?" honestly I think her destiny is tragic no matter the result.

"How did he react to her disappearance, did he tried to find her (honestly my question was why he didn't ask her parents or search where did she goes, but honestly its a good thing that he didn't search) ? And during 10 years, how was to him ?" Maybe the only thing we can say "good" about him is he will only looking toward her and not any women after THAT day...?

And last question, I was wondering what will happen to them after THAT day like I know fr that in the media there will be news, but honestly I think the conclusion is well writting, the fact you first introduce the concept about the Moon and conclued with the detailed about the Moon and how tragic the ending is for them (Moon and 'Reader'). And if you are going to a Geto's it's will also be interesting because he was there to.

Sorry for the long message (eng isn't my first language) and thanks you to read that ! Have a nice day or night !

Thank you!!!!!!All great great great questions! I'll try to answer them as best as I can before giving tooo much away lol:

Why cant Ms.Moon take contraception?

yes Ms.Moon (that's my nickname for the mc now lol) could definitely try to take contraception in secret but I don't think it'll be a good ending if Gojo finds out. In the comments of the fic, many ppl were pointing out that Gojo was intentionally trying to get Ms. Moon pregnant back when they were "dating" buuuut it was sort of an afterthought for him. His logic was 'oh well it doesn't matter either way. you're staying with me regardless' but now that he's seen that Ms.Moon is 100% willing to leave him his next course of action is 'k well can't do that if you have a kid'. It's really not about Ms.Moon having a baby, rather it's insurance that bestie won't just dip again. He cares about you more than any kid you'd make together (awww thats so....sweet???)

Will Gojo force Ms.Moon to get married?

Probably, he's a romantic at heart teehee. But also he loves the attention. Part of the reason he was so effective in "keeping" Ms.Moon (in high school) was largely due to public pressure. Now, where he's basically a celebrity, his obsession with the spotlight has only increased. He's gonna be on talk shows and never shy about your relationship to the press. Gojo will definitely describe your relationship as 'newly reunited highschool sweethearts'. People at work will definitely bombard you for the details, and you were never one to be defiant so you'd probably just mutely agree with him (that's why he loves you so much: you're so agreeable). He'd make sure your wedding is the biggest celebration of the year. And then he'd drag you to Aruba or something for yalls honeymoon:)

Why didn't Gojo try to find Ms. Moon?

He did! When you dipped (graduated early and left for college) he went ballistic. I totally forgot to add this in, but Gojo is a huge reason why Ms.Moon doesn't talk to family anymore/anyone in that town. You didn't even tell your parents what college you were headed off to. I bet Gojo harrassed your family for a bit, because he's Gojo Satoru, but when it's clear you just disappeared I bet he was depressed. As terrible as he was, he did love you. It was also a pride thing for him. No one's ever 'won' against him, and you technically did. He'd greatly underestimated you and you got away. I bet he'd be a little impressed at that. I think in the fic it was greatly implied that he was searching for you buuuut eventually he forgot because he got so busy with his life. He still thought about you, but its was probably more along the lines of 'damn, can't believe i lost that bitch' And then you unceremoniously fell from the sky. Surprising, but he's grateful. It was fate to meet you again or was it? *cackles in omniscient author*

The Aftermath

Yeah, you're not living a normal life after that ever again. You're moving in with him, he's getting that marriage certificate ready bye bye freedom. I don't think he'd lock you up, buuuut having a security detail on you at all times, putting a tracker in your phone, and constantly calling/texting you is pretty close to life in prison right? EVENTUALLY, he'd limit your social network, then not-so-gently encourage you to quit your job. By the end of it, you'll be his little housewife but I think he'd be nice about it. (kind of)