#HE SHOULD NOT BE DOING ALLAT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chr0llossexygf · 1 year ago

Text

IN RUINS 2

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem reader

SUMMARY: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn’t have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn’t explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time?

IMPORTANT COMMENT!!!!: hi my pumpkin cupcake stinky wonky pookie bears. IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN A FRAUD! 💔💔 jokes but I’m rlly sorry I haven’t been writing for the past months ive been to the hospital multiple times and also had someone close to me pull a ‘I’m dead’ card on me and then I was oh! BUT I think I’m okay I think I’m better and I’ll start posting more I have a lot of ideas but tbh this one was a draft before allat happened so it’s shit but and I wanted to get rid of it cus it js reminded me of everything that happened before 😭 BUT I’m rlly rlly sorry ITS SO LATE

" why is your mom calling you she hasn't called you in 7 months " scott anderson says rubbing his face repeatedly his fingers shaking, his other hand is in a fist digging his nails in the palm of his hand. he walks away from jj who's tied up on the floor with her feet and hands wrapped in rope. the grip on your phone tightens.

" she's calling me because it was my aunts birthday scott." you say looking at scott in the eyes. he stands up biting his nails. " your lying to me." he says walking to you, his eyes dark. you wish his eyes at-least looked like they had nothing behind them, but his eyes definitely have something behind them.

his eyes look determined. they looked commited. and he’s looking at you. your eyes widen. your hands become sweaty. you take a step back. “ i’m not lying to you scott.” you respond back gently shaking your head. you raise your eyebrows softly smiling at him. “ i wouldn’t lie to you scott.” you say the grip on your hand tightening to the point where your hand is shaking.

his gaze softens for a second, his eyes aren't so dark now. his eyebrows soften. " you wouldn't lie to me y/ n?" he whispers gently walking up to you. you nod gulping, " ¡ wouldn't lie to you scotty" you whisper smiling. he smiles. taking another step towards you. you take a deep breath in.

"y-your doing a great job y/n" spencer's shaky voice speaks into the phone. it's the only thing keeping you sane right now. he sounds nervous. you can hear him gulp repeatedly. he's stuttering a lot right now. he's probably blinking a lot. a habit he has when he's nervous. a habit you've absorbed from afar. " your doing a really really great job y/n. i'm so proud of you." no he shouldn't have said that. he should not have said that. he shouldn't have said that. you tear up. why are you tearing up? you can't tear up right now. not right now. please not right now.

your throat feels heavy. your heart feels heavy. a part of you feels funny. your ears feel funny, never having heard those words before. your brain is trying to process the words. it can't process them. it's funny though. no matter how much insane messed up stuff you've heard on the job none of it really ever seemed to take a toll on you. but hearing those 5 words. it's taking a toll on you. and it's not the right time. why are they so triggering. what are they triggering? the inner child inside of you who never got to hear those words? the teen inside of you who never got to hear those words? or is it adult you who still hadn't heard those words up until now? it's too much. why are you tearing up?

“ why are you crying.” scott says. something in his eyes has changed. oh god. his eyes darken. his eyebrows tighten. he’s shaking his head smiling. “ what is your mom saying? why is she making you cry? do you want me to kill her?” he says with pleading eyes smiling. he’s taking a step towards you. “ or are you not talking to your mom right now…” he mumbles. your eyes widen. you shake your head. “ or…your not calling your mom you bitch!” he shouts taking another step towards you. you don’t have time to react. he grabs you by the neck slamming you against the wall. his hand tightens around your neck.

you choke on your words. the tears that gathered up finally start to fall. your free hand wraps around scott's arm thats choking you. you repeatedly hit his arm. " please stop." you plead shaking your head. his grip tightens on your neck. " your a liar. your just like him." he spits his gaze darkening. he grabs your phone throwing it across the room. it knocks over a glass vase.

"¡'m not like him." you choke out shaking your head. " shut up! yes you are!" he shouts in your voice, spit getting on your face.

" let her go!" ji shouts from the floor. her voice cracks mid sentence. probably due to fear. watching you struggle is affecting her. just watching you struggle makes her feel as though she is the one struggling.

scott turns his head around. " what did you just say?" he says slowly releasing you. you take a deep breath in. you look at scott. another wave of fear hits you. what's he gonna say to jj? what's he gonna do to jj? she shouldn't have said anything. she should've kept quiet. he can't hurt her. you have to do something.

" i said let her go. you can't hurt her. she's what you want right? you can't hurt her. why would you hurt someone you love?" jj says her eyes darting between you and scott. to scott she looks desperate, to you. you know what jj's trying to say with her eyes.' we will be fine. seeing ji look at you like that. a rush of adrenaline hit you. you have got to do something. why are your hands so weak. why do you feel as though you don't have control of your body. why do you feel as though you can't control anything. damn it.

" you show love by hurting the ones you love." he whispers. you slowly reach for the gun in your pocket, trying not to alert him. and god is it hard " y/ n would know." he says chuckling. your so close to the gun. " isn't that right y/n?" he turns around to look at you. he sees your hand. he sees the hand thats reaching for the gun. he grabs your gun. your hand immediately forms into a fist, you punch him in the jaw. he falls back. holding his jaw. " you bitch!" he shouts.

you run to jj. you drop down to your knees. your shaky hands immediately start to undo the knots of the rope. "jj you need to get out." you say out of breathe. your trembling hands making it harder to undo the rope quickly. " no- what. y/n dont. i'm not leaving without you. the team is coming t-they're on their way y/n. ji says shaking her head in denial. her hands are untied. " god jj! i always follow your orders! just follow mine! just this once." you snap back moving onto her legs. you untie her. " get out of here now jj! he wont hurt me jj. hes obsessed with me he wont. trust me." you say nodding.

jj hasn't been a profiler for a long time. anyone else on the team would've called you out for your bullshit right now. if he wanted to hurt you. he definitely would. he would do anything to get you to be obedient. he could probably kill you if he wanted to. but jj doesn't know that. she thinks he's just a stalker who's obsessed with you and probably wouldn't seriously harm you. but you know unsubs like him all too well.

ji stands up running to the door. she opens the door. she turns to look at you again. you look at her and smile. " just go." you mouth. she quickly nods running out and closing the door. a wave of relief washes over you. jj is fine. jj is okay. jj is safe. he can't hurt jj anymore.

your not fine. your not okay. your not safe. he can keep hurting you. you turn around. he's standing right behind you. he's looking down at you. he's standing tall. his eyes are on you. his expression is dark. his eyes are empty. not a single thought behind his eyes. you were wrong. his eyes without a single thought behind them is scarier. because now you know, there's nothing really stopping him. there's no determination. there's no commitment. there's absolutely nothing behind those eyes. those eyes that are just about to do you harm.

“ me looking down on you…does this remind you of anything?” he says tilting his head to the side smiling. you shake your head. but oh boy do you know exactly what he’s talking about. your dad. “ oh right sorry. let me do something that will surely make you remember.” he says chuckling. he crouches down. he punches you right in the eye, your left eye. the one with the healed over stitches. you stiffen at his touch. not just because your scared of him. yeah of course your scared of him. but also because you’ve never had someone touch you in such an intimate place. you’ve never had someone grab your cheek and gently caress your scars.

he starts laughing. " oh my god let me see that" he gently grabs your cheek. tilting your head up towards him. he runs his finger on the scar. " he did that didnt he?" he whispers gently rubbing the scar. " he gave you this scar didnt he? i read it.. in one of your hospital records. he gave you this 2 weeks before he left right?" he whispers gently caressing the scar. your shaky hands reaches for his cheek.

he stiffens at your touch. he's just like you. " he gave this to you..right?" you whisper, gently caressing the cut on his lips. scott nods. " you and me.we are the same y/n. we both grew up in the same households. we both put up the same abuse. we..we are meant for each other y/n. your meant for me. and i'm meant for you." he whispers caressing your cheek gently. you nod.

" yeah.yeah we belong together." you mumble nodding gently.

i thought so too..until i saw a picture of you and your co worker spencer reid together." he whispers softly still smiling. your eyes widen. " w-what." you mumble. he chuckles, " yeah.i saw a picture of you two together. it was when you and your team were working that case in chicago." he whispers tightening his grip on your cheek. you shake your head.

" s-spencer? spencer reid? he-he means absolutely nothing to me." you say gently reaching for his hand. " don't lie to me." he whispers tearing up. " i'm not lying to you scott." you whisper rubbing your thumb gently against his arm. " your lying to

me. all you do is lie. your just like him." he whispers tears rolling down his cheeks. " i'm not like him scott." you whisper shaking your head, trying to calm him.

" your just like him.you lying bitch." he shakes his head standing up, forcefully pulling you up with him. his fingers dig deeply into your cheeks, surely 100% going to leave a mark. but who cares at this point.

" scott just listen to me-' he cuts your desperate cries with a punch to the mouth. you fall down to the floor, on purpose however. you want him to think your weak. your worn out. he can easily control you. he can easily throw you around like a rag doll. so he can feel some sense of confidence and have a sense of control. something he probably never experienced.

"i'm not listening to you. now you listen to me. you... you listen to me y/n. we are both the same person. we deserve absolutely nothing. we deserve everything our fathers did to us-"

" you know that's not true scott." someone speaks up from behind scott. their voice is strong and stern. it brings you comfort. never would you have thought, laying on the floor with blood dripping down your chin that the sound of someone's voice would bring you comfort. your heart feels warm. you can feel the familiarity of having control over your body come back. you smile. how could you be smiling at a time like this? your smiling. really hard while looking down at the floor. you refused to look up at scott. you refuse to do so.

because deep down you know you would be staring at the version of yourself that's buried deep inside you. that part inside you that keeps you wondering everyday, if you didn't take the path you took would you be like that. would you have done the same thing he had done? what makes him so different from you. just because you carry an id that gives you power over any normal civilian and a gun that's supposed to protect you and others. that doesn't make you any different though. because even though you have those things, you still think like scott. what if you truly don't deserve anyone in this world that would treat you with respect? what if you truly deserve someone as messed up as fucked up ad you are? because then they wouldn't understand right? they wouldn't understand how your mind works. but..like scott said. you probably deserve someone like scott, someone so sick and twisted-

why are you like this. why are you taking his words to heart. are you really that desperate and pathetic that you start taking an unsubs words to heart just because he shared an intimate moment with you. why? is it because you never in your life had experienced something like that and now you yearn for it? you start to believe every word he's said. your so naive. and your so vain. how can you be so gullible. why are you the way that you are. none of what scott said is true. none of it, absolutely none of it.

your too preoccupied with your brain breaking you down too notice two people coming over to you. your zoning out. your thinking hard. really hard. something like this requires a lot of thinking. but it shouldn't though. your supposed to just shrug off his words. not pay any mind to them. he's a mentally ill unsub who's murdered 5 women. nothing he says should make you reason with his thinking. there's nothing to reason with. he's insane. your not insane. your not insane. your just a girl who's seen some insane things.

" hey. your okay. i got you." morgan says gently grabbing you by the arms. "i got you y/n." he whispers picking you up gently. you stand up looking at the wall infront of you still zoned out. " hey y/n." emily pats your shoulder gently tilting her head to the side looking at you with such pain. you shake your head and look at both of them. " hi emily." you respond looking at emily blinking repeatedly. " hey you." she says smiling. " we've gotta get you to the ambulance come on y/n." morgan says wrapping his arms around you, pushing you into him.

" j-i don't need medical care morgan." you say trying to push your heavy head away but finding it way too hard. he feels too comfortable. too comforting. he feels too nice. his cologne smells masculine. really masculine. why is it comforting? why does it bring you comfort? you close your tired eyes for a second. " hey hey don't close your eyes on me I/n." morgan says tilting his head around to take a look at you, you shake your head softly. " i'm not dying morgan." you groan.

emily chuckles. " morgan's probably enjoying this." emily says wrapping up arm around her shoulder helping you walk, " cant have derek enjoying himself too much we all know how cocky he'll get and how high his ego will sky rocket." emily adds on looking at you smiling. her words make you chuckle. a painful chuckle. when your lips curve to let out a laugh a wave of pain washes over your face. "ow ow." you chuckle closing your eyes. morgan shakes his head,

"yeah you wish you can have a bit of this ego." morgan replies.

rossi opens the house door. his eyes immediately look to you. " it's alright i've got her." he says running to you. " derek go take care of reid he's in the ambulance." rossi says putting his gun away. morgan slowly and gently lets you go. rossi quickly replaces morgan. your head immediately shoots up. that hurt. you didn't even know you could do that. why did your head shoot up so quickly? just a second ago you were leaning into morgan for support because you couldn't bare to hold your head up and now suddenly you have all the energy in the world to shoot your head up.

"w-wait whys reid in the ambulance?" you ask your eyes wide, your pretty sure your eyes are half closed though. you can't bare to hold them open. you can already feel your left eye bruising. you can taste blood in your mouth. and you know there's blood dripping down from your eyebrows, from the healed over stitch. rossi and emily push you forward helping you walk. why aren't they answering you? what happened to reid? whys he in an ambulance? is he injured? what's wrong with spencer? what happened to spence? " i think that's a question he should answer." rossi says. what does that mean?

your quickly brought out of the house, thank god. you feel like if you spent another second in there you would go ballistic and break down crying. your heads down, your too tired. you see a pair of shoes infront of you. who's shoes are those? who is that? and why did they stop right infront of you? it's not spencer. spence would never wear those shoes. he was wearing converse earlier. dark blue converse. why do you remember all of this? don't you have some sort of concussion? how do you remember what pair of shoes spencer wore? god...

you feel emily and rossi's grip weaken around you. the unfamiliar person infront of you reaches forward and takes you. they lead you away from rossi and emily. your too tired to even care. they lean you against them. " where's...what's wrong with dr spencer reid?" you mumble stumbling in their hood barely having the energy to hold yourself up. " it's alright i°ve got you. here." they sit you down on something. there's bright red lights flashing around you. an ambulance.

" ma'am i'm gonna get an IV bag started is that alright with you?" the medic asks opening a cabinet. you nod your head hazily. you lean your head against the walls of the ambulance. he takes your arm rolling your sleeve up. you feel the soft pinch. your thankful for it though. it's stopping you from dissociating and falling asleep. you don't wanna fall asleep until someone tells you why spencer is in an ambulance. why do you care for him? why do you care for him after everything's he said- oh right. after what he's said. why do you care for him after he just publicly embarrassed you? that's so stupid. why are you so pathetic and desperate. did he publicly embarrass you? half of the team probably already knew. it's not that hard to figure out. it’s probably why you are the way that you are. they’re profilers. of course they would figure that out. what he said was true. they all probably agree. oh god..

" let me go! let me go! i don't need medical attention she needs it more than me! let me see her!" you hear a voice shout from the distance, you recognise it. your heartbeat quickens. not like earlier though. not in the way your heartbeat quickened earlier. that was in fear. no. this. this is in relief. your stomach starts to stir. in nervousness. your still leaning your head against the wall, but your looking down. your hair covering your face. you stop hearing his voice.

" ma'am i need you to lift your head up." the medic says gently placing a tray next to you, a tray your guessing is full of medical supplies and alcohol. you softly nod your head sitting up. the medic grabs one of the medical instrument opening the wrapping. he moves to the side to quickly put on gloves.

“ oh my god y/n..” you hear him say your name, in so so much pain. he sounds so upset. is he in pain? why does he sound so upset. what happened to him. is he okay. you look up. you see him. you look into his eyes. and suddenly all the words he’s said earlier rush buck into your clouded messy mind. but they don’t hurt as much. your so used to men blurting out hurtful words to you and you having to get over them, what else do you do? ask them to apologise? expect them to apologise?

no. they don’t do that. they’ve never done that. best thing to do is just get over it, because you probably deserve it right? that’s what you were taught.

he looks tired. his eye bags look darker than what they usually would look like. his hair is messier then usual. the two buttons on his dark blue vest are unbuttoned. he’s wearing his fbi vest. his dark blue pants have wet stains on the side of them. your guessing because he would repeatedly wipe his sweaty hands on them. a habit he has when he’s nervous.

he looks into your eyes. he sees the bruise that's already forming in your eye. the trail of blood rolling down your eyebrow from what he can see, that scar you have. you have blood rolling down the side of your face. your neck is red. an imprint of a hand already appearing. his heart hurts. it hurts so much. seeing you like this. but how dare he right?

how dare he feel pain in his heart? the pain your feeling physically and mentally is probably 10x worse than what he’s feeling. he wishes he was feeling it though, he wishes that right in this second all your pain would be transferred to him. add it on to his pain. he feels so guilty. you don’t deserve this. this is his fault. this is his fault. this is all his fault. your never gonna look him in the eye again. whenever you do your gonna remember this day. and how much pain he put you through. he hates it. he hates it so much. he hates himself so much.

"y-y/n." he's out of breath. he doesn't know where to start. he didn't have time to think of an apology, spending the entire car ride panicking nervous about you and wether you were safe or not. but now he can't think of anything.

he can't think of anything when looking into your eyes, the only thing he's thinking of is how badly he wishes he can go back in time and prevent all of this from happening. or make all of this happen but only put himself in your shoes. make him go through all this pain instead of you. You don't deserve this. you don't deserve him. you don't deserve his stupid apology that's about to come, that is if he can even muster up an apology right now. you deserve so much better than him.

"y/n i'm so sorry." spencer starts shaking his head his eyes wide. he can't think of anything. his iq of 187 has suddenly dropped down to 20. spencer who seemed to never stop his rambling suddenly can't think of a single thing to ramble on. you just made him stupid. and not in the way it's supposed to be. you make him stupid when you smile at him. not like this. he can't think of anything. he doesn't know where to start. he shakes his head.

" god can't you do your job!" spencer snaps grabbing a medical wipe and pouring saline solution on it. he stands infront of you. his angry demeanour quickly vanishes once his infront of you. something just hit him. he freezes infront of you. it's like all the color, the little color he already had in his face has drained.

you look at him in confusion. all though your upset at him it doesn't stop you from caring and growing concerned. " w-what?" you say blinking repeatedly looking at him. hes still looking at you. his lips part. he blinks repeatedly. he shakes his head.

"i-i'm just..i got scared." he stutters his voice cracking. " why?" you ask tilting your head to the side. " i'm scared your gonna flinch once i touch you." he replies quickly. really quickly. any normal person wouldn't catch it. but you did. vou've learnt to keep up with spencer's quick rambling. oh. oh. whys he so considerate? y/n stop. you can think that. you look down at your thighs. unable to think of anything to say. if he did touch you. would you have flinched? would you have reacted? you don't know. but spencer's not him. right?

" i'm not gonna flinch spencer." you say looking up at him. he nods his head gulping, "a-alright." he says. he lifts his shaky hand up. he gently dabs the medical wipe on your cut. disinfecting it. ouch it burns. your nails dig into the palm of your hand. his eyes are stuck on the cut. the scar. he knows where it's from. he might've been with garcia when she did her usual background snooping on new members of the team 2 years ago. he remembers how guilty he felt after it. finding out about such a dark part of your life without your knowledge or permission.

but that guilt doesn't compare to the guilt he's feeling right now. he feels tremendously guilty, he caused the scar to re open. all because of his foolishness. if he just shut his mouth earlier and wasn't such a smart ass. if he maybe was the one to go with you to scott anderson's house and not jj he would've been able to protect you. he probably would've shot scott anderson the second he would've laid his hands on vou.

he doesn't trust himself aorund vou. atleast not from the harm of unsubs and has the need to shoot any of them if they ever did you harm. he would probably lose his job. if he was there he probably would've lost his job. but he doesn't care. for your safety. he doesn't care.

" i'm so sorry y/n-" you can feel the medical wipe shake on your eyebrow, from spencer's shaky hands.

" it's fine spencer." you mumble looking into his eyes. is it fine though? is it really fine? whys he apologising? he's not supposed to be apologising right? this is new. this is so very new. they never apologise after hurting you. this is so unfamiliar? how are you supposed to react? do you tell them how you really feel? do you immediately accept their apology? they never apologised to you when they hurt you. whys spencers apologising? what do you say?

" it's not fine y/n. i-i hurt you. i c-caused this." he says spitting his words out in a shaky manner. what do you say or do? you've never made it this far whenever something similar to this happened in the past.

" spencer it's fine. i shouldn't have egged you on earlier anyways-" why are you taking the blame. y/ n stop. it's not your fault. it never is your fault when something like this happens. y/n please. it's not your fault. stop taking the blame. his heart aches even more. his throat feels heavy. who hurt you like this? who broke your heart like this? who messed up your image of love like this? who hurt you this bad. he hates them. he hates them for making you like this.

" y/n i know you have the personal need to justify everything i've said but y/n stop, just stop. i hurt you okay. and even though saying that out loud and accepting the fact that i said that it thr worst thing i've ever done in my entire life it's nothing compared to what you felt when i said that. i don't wanna be like him y/n. i don't wanna be him. i don't want you to think i can be him. i don't want you to see him everytime you see me y/n. because that would kill me even more. y-you don't have to talk to me anymore y/n i just don't want you to flinch or have this horrible feeling of rememberence whenever you see me. please just.. just don't take the blame for this because it's my fault. this entire thing was my fault and i put you through this y/n. you don't deserve this. i'm really sorry.”

spencer rambles. trying to push the heavy feeling in his throat away. he can't cry. he doesn't deserve to cry right now. he's nervous though. he's nervous about what your gonna say. he doesn’t have the right to feel nervous though. he should accept whatever it is. he did this to himself. whatever the outcome is. he just hopes you don’t have a sense of fear wash over you whenever you look at him and get memories of this day. that is if you ever look at him after this day.

no one's ever said that to you. you feel your tired eyes tear up. your about to cry. oh no. spencer panics. does he comfort you? do you even want his comfort? he doesn't deserve to touch you, he thinks. he drops the medical wipe.

" n-no please don't cry. ill go call

over emily or jj or morgan or hotch just p-please dont cry. i'll go-" it physically aches him to leave you like this. but he has to. he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable. he just made you cry. you must really hate him. he understands though. he just wishes you understand how sorry he is. but you probably will never know. because you probably don't expect him to feel sorry, you probably think he's faking it. he just needs you to understand that he's not him. he's not your dad. spencer actually feels sorry. he feels so so sorry for everything he's done and said. but you had to put up with years of your dad taking apologises you probably don't believe his. he hates himself.

you stand up. you barely have room to think clearly before a tear rolls down your cheek. spencer immediately removes his fbi vest, you bury your head against spencer's chest. you wrap your hands against his chest. he doesn't wrap his hands around you though. he's scared to touch you. your not sobbing. your too tired to sob. you just let tears slowly roll down your cheeks. " your not him spencer." you say out loud. spencer's heart skips a beat. he slowly wraps his hands around you. " i'm still mad at you. you shouldn't have said that earlier. b-but i forgive you spence." you mumble against his chest. he shakes his head, " you shouldn't forgive me y/n. your supposed to be mad at me. your supposed to be yelling at me. or-or hitting me." he says.

" i am mad at you spencer." you say pulling your head away wiping the tears.

"alright. good." he says

looking down at you. " oh god- im sorry that was stupid i shouldn't have hugged you-" you immediately start apologising shaking your head. you immediately sit back down. oh god your so stupid. why did you just hug him? your so embarrasing oh god. did you feel the need to hug spencer because you just needed to make sure that spencer wasn't him.

not that you would know what your dads embrace would feel like. but you just needed to make sure.

" no please don't apologise. d-do you mind if i sit next to you?" spencer asks pointing at the space next to you. you look at him and slowly nod your heart. he sits next to you. " once ive healed i'm yelling at you spencer." you say looking down at your legs, your tired eyes aching. " alright." spencer says nodding. you should yell at him. and you will. he had no right. but your too tired right now. you just hope. you really really hope that spencer doesn't spiral once your back in quantico and probably will forcefully be taken into the hospital by emily and jj. you really hope he doesn't drown himself in guilt and spiral. why are you so caring? does spencer care about you the way you care about him? that's foolish right? he wouldn't right? does he feel his heart quicken when he sees you? does he care the way you care? that's stupid god y/n you probably have a concussion just shut up.

yeah how stupid y/n. because if you knew the way spencer cared about you or the way his heart quickens when he sees you. you wouldn't believe it. it will take time though. it will take time for you to believe it. he's willing to work hard during that time. he just hopes you know even the slightest bit. but he wont say anything right now. you've already been through enough. he wont say anything for a while. though when the time is right. maybe you'll finally know how much he cares about you. for now, he'll settle for this just for now. until he can gain your trust back and make his feelings known. he'll settle for this. because just being next to you makes him happy.

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aphroditesswan · 3 months ago

Note

just read yur kinich fic where he called yn princesa and allat and CHAAATTT ??? I CRAVE MORE OMG 😭😭

sorry i disappeared guys ijbol im cooking up sum interesting 👅👅

but while i do that i should totally make more fics in the meantime so here you go my babies 🫦

fem reader + mexican/spanish speaking kin, lowk a little angsty idk i was depressed when i wrote this, oral (kin receiving), praise praise praise lots of praise, blood mention but its the abyss and its sexy, gentle-ish kinich he js kinda lays back

“thats it, hermosa, right there,” kinich couldn’t keep his mouth shut when he was around you, you just made him want to talk.

not to mention just how perfect you looks between his legs, like you were just so naturally made to be there sucking him off as you pleased.

he couldn’t resist how your lips hugged his shaft, the slow drag of your tongue as he resisted the urge to tighten the gentle grip on your head and push your head down further just to hear the prettiest of whines slip from your mouth, muffled by his thick cock.

he wanted to be gentle today — something sweet as a celebration for coming home to each other after the war. he missed you so dearly, thought about you with every monster he stabbed through the chest and wondered how you were holding up with every person he saw that he couldn’t save.

but right now, all of that was forgetting as he ran his fingers through your hair. he sang your praises as you sat on your knees in front of him, sweats pulled down just enough to free his cock from their confines because god, you couldn’t resist how his sweats hugged his hips with small beads of sweat decorating his bare torso.

“fuck—just like that princesa, i miss you sooo much,”

he groaned out, head falling forward as his mouth hung open in pleasure, in gratitude, in devotion, in pure love.

“thought about you the entire time. missed you s’ much, mi hermosa. shit, all i wanted was to be with you.”

he was especially talkative tonight, a bit of blood from the abyss still staining his cheek, parts of his biceps, a couple blotches on his pants. it didn’t seem to bother you, so it didn’t bother him. he would’ve went crazy without you for any longer, he needed you in anyway that you wished. he would have gotten on his own knees and begged to touch you, begged to hold you again after the night and frankly the morning after the war that the entirety of natlan had.

he needed you in the most carnal way — when he swung his claymore and watched the way it all morphed into glowing yellow and teal, when he spat at the monsters he slayed and looked for the next route of information, when he watched a saurian or a tribe member fall and take their last breathe, all he could think of was getting home to you. finding you, holding you so tight that you nearly popped.

he was barely paying attention to the pleasure you gave him, looking down at you and admiring just how gorgeous you looked. messy hair, visible exhaustion, smudged makeup, sweat and grime and blood in oddly gorgeous patterns along your body that he was entirely positive only you could pull off.

“so gorgeous, mi princesa. right there, thaaats it. so good for me, yeah?”

his voice was lower than usual, an insatiable need to see you messy and marked with him. to see that you were his, to see physical proof of your devotion to him.

he couldn’t help but hold onto your head as he was close, grunts low and ragged as he came down your throat with his hand holding the back of your head.

“fuck— there were go princesa there we go, y’ take me so well.”

when he pulled from your mouth, he cupped your jaw with his rough hand, a bit bloody and bruised from swinging his claymore so recklessly.

he admired the shine of his cum on your lips, lining your mouth with a glossy shine that he thought was so much better than any lip gloss he had ever gifted you.

“i’d kiss you but it’d be a waste if you didn’t taste more of me. come up here and let me eat that pretty pussy, yeah princesa?”

woo!! sorry guys im lowk depressed 🥹 but the gears r TURNINGGG trust

#kinich x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact #kinich smut #kinich x reader

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sierrale8ne · 2 months ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER FOURTEEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch

warnings none! my girls are getting on the right track in this one.

kalena speakss 🪽! this chapter might be a little underwhelming for y’all but it’s so key for the ending of this story and allat!

July 2025 — Kia Forum, Inglewood, California

I never imagined that singers— especially really fucking good ones— could be so terrible at singing happy birthday.

Backstage at Kia Forum I’m joined by none other than Destin Conrad and Victoria Monet, and multiple other members of my team, just minutes away from going out on stage.

I can hear the crowd and feel the rumble under my feet even though no one is out yet.

“You guys do know my birthday isn’t until tomorrow, right?” I laugh when the singing comes to an end.

Destin drapes an arm over my shoulder, slightly bumping his hip against mine. “Yes, but it will be by the time we’re off stage.” He responds, squeezing my shoulder gently and leading me closer to that black stage. The instrumental of Unpredictable plays, and Destin is walking out to start his verse.

I shake off any nerves that reside on my mind and adjust the grip on the microphone in my hand.

There’s always a moment of clarity whenever I’m about to go on stage, like the feeling of being so loved by thousands of people is surreal.

Footsteps grow increasingly louder behind me, I tug out my inner ear monitor to look over at who is behind me.

“Kea?” My eyebrows furrow and I gasp just slightly surprised. I knew she would be here, she made a big deal of explaining how Cameron, Paige, and herself would get comfortable in their suite and cheer for me the loudest of anyone in the arena.

So I fully expected her to be, well, in her suite. Not here.

“Listen—”

“I have to go—”

“I know, just listen. I know about Paige. She told me everything, and I'm not mad it’s just,” Rickea pauses with a sigh and I look at her pointedly, silently telling her to hurry it up before I miss my cue.

“You should hear her out. I know you’re hurting over it all, and rightfully so, but I know Paige. And I don’t think she’s ever been more regretful of something in her life.” She adds.

“Is she here?” I ask.

“No, she thought you didn’t want her here.”

It makes me frown. Because even now, after all the things I’ve said, or rather left unsaid, I still wish she was here.

When she came and saw me the first time, I didn’t even know she was there and it sucked. It sucked because I was so desperately missing her. My mind was racing over thoughts of her and she wasn’t there. Somehow, knowing that she stayed home tonight hurts even more.

Knowing that Paige thought I’d rather have her at home than here, fucking hurts. I did that. I made her feel like that.

I didn’t think that it was possible to miss someone this bad. Paige had literally weaved her way into my life and in two months had me wrapped around her finger.

She should be here. No matter what. She said she would so she should’ve followed through. Why didn’t she follow through?

I reluctantly nod at Rickea’s words, hearing Destin’s voice echo through the building as my verse approaches. I look back and forth from my sound manager and herself, my words resting on my tongue, mouth slightly parted.

“I— I gotta go.” I murmur wrapping my hand tighter around my microphone and backing up towards the stage, and Rickea looks defeated. I can only imagine how many conversations about me she had to have had with Paige in order for her to tell me to speak to her.

“I will.” I called out. “I’ll talk to her, I mean.”

That’s all I say before beginning my verse, exiting to the stage and being greeted by the cheers of my sold out audience.

—

July 2025 — Two weeks ago

“Your birthday is coming up soon.” Paige mumbles into the air.

We sit on her couch, my legs resting on her lap while we do nothing but talk. I didn’t want to go home even though I knew I should. After the entire argument I had with Julian earlier, my phone has been blowing up with texts and calls from him. I knew that if I were to go home, I’d be responding and giving him the exact response he’s wanting.

So instead I sit here, letting Paige rub up on my legs and tell me everything I want to hear. All too intimate for two people who aren’t supposed to be seeing each other.

“Yeah.” I respond, feeling goosebumps travel up my skin from the way her fingers play with the charm anklet by my foot.

“Why you say it like that? You ain’t excited?” She asks me, a chuckle tumbling past her lips.

“No, no! I am!” I smile. Her eyes on me are almost suffocating, I still can’t even find it in me to break the eye contact. “There’s a lot to be excited about. The show. Imma drive out to San Diego too.”

There’s a sly bite to Paige’s lip as she looks at me, taking in everything I tell her. “San Diego? Whatchu doin’ out there?” She asks.

“I used to spend my birthday with my grandma. She got this nice ass place in La Jolla.” I start, thinking about all the birthdays I got to spend in California before even moving here. “She passed away a few years back, so I try to stay at her place for my birthday weekend. It’s like she’s still here with me, y’know?”

Paige frowns a bit, trailing her hand up my leg to squeeze at my calf. It’s comforting, saying all the words she has yet to.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that.” She says, her eyes softening just slightly.

I shrug. “Don’t be, it’s alright.” I slide my legs off of her lap and they drop to the floor. She looks at me almost disappointed that I’m no longer touching her. It’s late, past one o’clock, and the city is nearly asleep. We should be too. “You coming to the show?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, ma.”

That damned pet name is about to make me lose my mind. She knows exactly what she’s doing when she says it. The eye contact and lick of her lip, sometimes she smirks after and it turns me into a puddle every time. It’s almost more sensual than when she calls me ‘angel’. When she does that, I just feel warm inside. Giddy almost. She’s being a sweetheart.

But when Paige fixes her lips and relaxes her jaw and opens her mouth to call me ‘ma’ it’s raunchy, and I can only imagine how it would sound when she's breathing all heavy. Whispering it in my ear, talking her shit to me in a way that would make me fall apart just for her. On her hands or mouth or literally anywhere.

“We should do sum. Like dinner after the show.” Paige suggests, voice sort of quiet. The sweet suggestion takes me out of my otherwise dirty thoughts. I can tell she’s been thinking about how to bring this up. Like she’s trying to get a feel of whether that would be too forward or not.

“So y’wanna take me on a date?” I smirk, watching the way her face flushes. We sit even closer to one another, my knee pressed up against her thigh as I sit on my haunches.

“I wanna do something nice for your birthday, actually.” She teases. “But if you wanna call it that, then sure. Lemme take you out then.”

I look at her incredulously, this was the same woman who just told me she didn’t want to be a home-wrecker, the same woman that swore she would give me space and time to figure my shit out. Yet here she is, with the bite of her lip and eye contact that makes me feel naked. The words fell from her tongue so sultry, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I was blushing so bad that I was pink.

“Stop it.” I laugh, pointing at her with a squint of my eyes.

“Y’ont wanna go out wimme? I thought I was doin’ a great job at being all charming and shit.” Paige leans into me, her head just slightly angled as she bores into my eyes. “I think you and me would have a great night at dinner.”

“I think you are very bold.”

“I think you should kiss me.”

It shuts me up, and I freeze and look at her like she has three heads. Paige, however, looks very proud of herself. Smug, even.

“You’re crazy.” I mutter, sitting up from my spot on her couch to trot towards the door. She follows me instantly, her laugh echoing in my ear. Paige grips my wrist, pulling me to her until my back is pressed against her chest and her arms are wrapped tight around my waist.

“C’mon I’m just kidding.” She mumbles.

“No you’re not!” I laugh, attempting to get her off my back, but really really I don’t want her to move. I like this feeling of Paige all on me like this. Her body is warm, breath fanning my neck.

“Okay, just one last kiss.” Paige turns me around in her embrace. I always forget how tall she is, because most of the time we’re just close enough where it feels eye to eye.

But she towers over me right now, Calvin Klein scent traveling down to my nose, blonde hair tickling her tanned skin. She’s stunning. Gorgeous in a way that I’ve never seen before.

“Just one, before you go.”

“Are you begging me?”

“Will it make you kiss me if I say yes?”

I roll my eyes, but it doesn’t stop me. I’m instantly reaching for her face, cupping her cheeks in my hands and angling my head towards hers. She kissed me slowly, lips barely even moving against my own as she grabbed my hips.

I don’t think I want this to end, if I could spend the rest of my life kissing her I think I’d be happy.

“—Good kisser.” Paige groans against me.

I pull back from her sucking on my bottom lip which is now wet from her saliva. “Whatchu say?”

“Said you’re a good kisser, ma.” She repeats. Her thumb traces over my bottom lip. “You break up with what’s his name, and we can do a lot more of that.” Paige shrugs, moving in and kissing me again. It's even shorter, something I could barely consider a peck.

But I’d be a fool to stop her.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California

Only I would be distracted by Maraye while she isn’t even in the room.

My flight to Indiana is in the morning and I should be packing the clothes that surround me where I sit on the floor. But I can’t tear my eyes away from my TV, the Amazon Prime replay of her birthday bash playing on my screen.

She looked incredible last night. A long crystallized black dress was what she wore first. Then some baggy jeans and a vintage Atlanta Falcons jersey that was tucked just right where I could catch a glimpse of a new tattoo on her rib. The camera can barely make it out, but I saw it and it was occupying a spot in my brain all night.

I shouldn’t be here. I mean sure, I should be packed and ready to go for the weekend. But I shouldn’t be sitting on the floor like an idiot.

I should be at some fancy restaurant, Maraye sitting across from me in some pretty dress with that fucking lip combo she wears that makes me forget my name.

It’s her birthday for God’s sake, I should be wishing her a happy birthday and telling her how fucking important she is in my life. I texted her earlier today, first thing when I woke up actually. Just like my other texts, it went unread and unanswered.

I reach for the rest of my clothes on the floor, packing jeans and shorts and shirts into my suitcase haphazardly. It was hard to focus when I could hear her singing in the background.

SOS. The first song I ever heard of hers, the song that is probably to blame for what became an obsession with her. She sounds just as perfect as she did then. Maybe even more. But I'm not sure if that’s because she’s gotten even better as a musician or if it’s because I’m so embarrassingly down bad that the slightest change in tone makes me think that.

Probably both.

I can feel my phone vibrate against the carpet, my lock screen, or rather the bible verse written on it flashes bright. John 13:7.

I see her contact name almost as bright.

It’s been what feels like forever since she’s texted or called me. Even longer than when I saw her at the gala. My mind short circuits and I haven’t even opened it yet.

When I do, I feel like I can breathe again. It’s minor, not an emoji or exclamation mark in sight but it still makes me feel like everything is right again.

Happy birthday angel, missin you extra today sent 7:02am

thanks sent 6:12pm

That’s it. Thanks. But it’s something, something that lets me know she knows I exist. That’s all I can really ask for right now.

i miss you

can we talk soon? i know you’re busy with all star stuff but whenever ur ready, i am too sent 6:15pm

That one I didn’t expect. Not in the slightest.

But I smile anyway, staring at my phone like a fucking high school girl with a crush.

i miss you too

i’m free rn, i’ll come over just say the word read 6:16pm

maraye 🫀 started sharing location 6:16pm

When I click her location I nearly scoff. La Jolla, San Diego. Over 2 hours away. I’d be crazy to get in my car, and drive out there when I have a flight at four in the morning. When I have clothes that still need to be paired together and shoes that need to be picked and toiletries to be packed.

I’d be crazy to drive to San Diego to see her when I don’t know what she wants to say. She could tell me she doesn’t want shit to do with me.

But then there’s that other possibility. The one where she could tell me she wants me, needs me, loves me. I think the fact that there is a chance, no matter how slim, that she could forgive me and that I can fix this means more than everything else.

So I’d be crazy not to go. Right?

—

July 2025 — San Diego, California

I’m crazy.

I know she’s leaving, maybe tonight, probably in the morning. And I am too. A flight to Indy is waiting for me tomorrow morning. I shouldn’t distract her before the biggest weekend of her life with this. With something that could’ve been fixed forever ago if I just let her speak.

I was going to let the silence go for the rest of the weekend. Talk to her when we get back, maybe even after the game.

Then Rickea got to me, and Paige was texting me happy birthday, and then I saw them.

Texts that started with long paragraphs, apologies that then I would’ve called phony or weak. They dwindled from those long thought out messages to short ones. A few sentences that turned into a few words.

But they never stopped. She never stopped texting.

So now, when I read them, I know she was serious. I know she was sorry.

I know that when she texts me, saying she stayed up at night thinking of me, or that she funnily enough thought she was playing terrible without my live texts— she meant it. All of it.

I’m otw

Traffic is shitty but I’m coming

Stay up for me?

Omg I just triple texted like an idiot.. ignore all that sent 8:00pm

i’m waiting :) read 8:01pm

That’s all I really can do. Just wait.

And when I do hear that knock or get that phone call I know where I’m going. I’m going back to her. Because it’s always going to be her.

Paige is my person.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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caramel-maveeato · 1 month ago

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𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡˚₊ 。。。 ᴋ. ᴀᴋᴀʙᴀɴᴇ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ

❧❤ SYNOPSIS: What it’s like to date THE Akabane Karma… ♡ Pairings/Love interest: Akabane Karma x GN!reader ♡ Genre: fluff, slight hurt/comfort ♡ TW: too much yapping, might be very OOC this is just my opinion ♡ Word count: 1.5k

Note: All characters originated from “Assassination Classroom” except for y/n. All characters are 18 or older. English is not my first language!!! Sorry in advance if I make any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Oh god I love him

My bish.

Been happily married to him for 8+ years so here's a fic to describe my experience (Delusion is my middle name.)

Akabane Karma has a very Akabane Karma way to love.

Karma is rich and can afford fancy restaurant dates, but he prefers more casual dates: coffee date, study date, arcade, park, mall, concerts, outdoor movie, late night walks, throwing rocks on the rooftop of some dickhead’s houses he/you hate, going around causing troubles with you becoming his accidental accomplice, etc. He loves the light-heartedness and silliness of them.

(It’s lowkey romantic when you run away from security hand-in-hand.)

On nighttime dates, he’ll sneak you out during random midnights by climbing through your window (if you live with family) or barging through the front door just so you can go on an adventure with him.

No one’s stopping him, no one can stop him anyway.

His love language is a mix of Quality Time, Act of Service, and Gift Giving.

Quality Time: He likes being near you. Doesn’t matter if he was on his game console and you were on your phone scrolling through Tumblr or if you both are working like a dog on two different laptops, doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t mind the comfortable silence as long as he can still feel your presence or see you.

Daily contact is needed. Not that you have to chat 24/7, but enough communication (that’s the bare minimum). If you can’t see each other at all, he wants to at least text a bit or talk on the phone.

The feeling of closeness is comforting to him considering how he never really has it growing up.

Act of Service: As much as he subconsciously does little things for you like paying close attention to what you tell him and your body language, doing research on things you like, giving you his jacket when he notices you slightly shiver without you even asking him to, reminding you to eat (though his ass doesn’t eat regularly either), making you your favorite dishes—Karma secretly melts when you pays him the similar amount of attention.

You don’t have to do allat, just be yourself and love him in your own way is enough to show him that you really care.

Gift Givings: Karma spoils you to death (he’s rich af).

You stare at a bracelet for more than a few seconds at a mall? Boom he already got it nicely wrapped up while you go to the bathroom. You say a shirt is cute? Boom he’s taking his wallet out right now. You wonder whether you should get fruit smoothie or milkshake? Boom he’s paying for both. You woke up on a random Thursday morning? Boom there’s a silly, stupid looking plushie sitting on your bed with a small note, “It looks like you :P”

This is lowkey the way he’s been taught growing up—which his traveler parents would throw gifts and souvenirs at him once every blue moon they came home as a way to express that they ‘cared’.

But he isn’t like them. The gifts he buys you aren’t empty envelopes that’s called ‘love’ nor half-assed apologies for ignorance. These are just physical emphasis of what he feels for you, just something extra to add to the genuine love he already shows daily.

Physical Affection: Karma is quite closed off and despite his effort to seem like a nonchalant, I-don’t-need-no-one lonewolf, he’s diagnosed with touch starvation.

But he has trust issues, plus that colossal reputation of a “cool guy” he has to maintain, he doesn’t like it when people become too physically comfortable with him. Or at least deep down he’s programmed himself to think that he doesn’t like being touchy-feely.

(Which is the reason why bro’s always caught standing there like a sims character when Koro-sensei lovingly pats his head or Itona that one time too lol)

Inwardly, he’s a bit flabbergasted to find out (be honest with himself) that he actually doesn’t mind receiving some physical love. From people he trusts and is close to only, of course.

This explicitly includes his ✨romantic partner✨

Though despite the above belief of Karma being a touch-starved boy, I feel like he doesn’t show his true color until weeks or even months into the relationship. And still mildly bashful sometimes when he initiates the affection until completely get used to it, which can take 1-2 years or more.

I feel like he doesn’t mind PDA, but he doesn’t want to overdo it either. So usually Karma would just hold your hand, placing his hand on your waist or wrap an arm around your shoulders.

But he’d show more than just the slight touches in cases where he wants to tease you or to shoo “competitors” away, or just… when he feels like it.

Words of Affirmation: Words on the other hand isn’t something Karma will do much, he’s capable of doing so though. Compliments may be spilled once in a while, he’d rather keep them in his head. He loves you, but he’ll express it through actions instead of words because his huge ego doesn’t want to sound “overly sappy.” It’s just not his style.

This makes his “I love you”s hit harder than they’re supposed to since he doesn’t say it often.

As much as Karma cherishes his partner, he’s still a playful little shit.

He’ll poke fun at you and tease you just because. He does know when to stop and remembers certain boundaries not to cross, but still pisses you off sometimes because he.is.so.annoying.

If something he said hits a sore spot for you, he’d try to throw his pride down the stairs and apologize almost instantly because hell, how could he hurt you?? On the other hand, if you’re just having enough of his relentless teasing, then no, he wouldn’t beg for your forgiveness.

Instead, Karma would buy you some small gifts or favorite food, or crack a joke, anything to pull out even the slightest, littlest lift of your lips.

Then he’ll surprise you with a hug or a kiss, trapping you in his arms until the tension evaporates entirely.

He’s hateable but lovable at the same time ugh

Jealousy Karma we need.

He’s outward and inwardly chill most of the time.

So it’s not like him to constantly be worked up and worried about your loyalty. He trusts you a lot, if he doesn’t you two wouldn’t be dating. He knows you aren’t gonna cheat on him or do anything behind his back.

But the jealousy can be caused by something outside of your relationship, like someone shows too much interest in you. But I feel like this can only apply when that person makes him feel threatened in terms of “perfection.”

Karma doesn’t show it but his insecurities can still be triggered, he’s only human after all. So on the bad days he feels like his “love rival” is a bit too good and compatible with you, that’s where you can see a jealous version of your boyfriend.

He’s gonna be more pissy and quiet, (or just sulky in general, even clingy), and he urgently needs the confirmation that you love him. So please don’t ignore the signs and show him just that.

Being a rising bureaucrat is exhausting, but Karma wouldn’t let it affect the person he deeply treasures.

We all know Karma doesn’t trust easily. So if he goes out of his way to confess and date you, he’s extraordinarily, horribly smitten.

He grows up alone and neglected, most people in his life either hate him or respect him out of fear. So I don’t think he’s willing to let go of someone he finally, finally feels safe and loved with if the reason is simply stress/busyness.

Time management is hard, of course. But if he wants to he would, and Karma wants to.

It might be overwhelming at first, pressures from different aspects of life might kick both of you in the ass. You two probably would find yourselves arguing more than normal. But even if he’s tired and stubborn, Karma won't let you stay angry at each other overnight because his partner is so dear to him.

He’ll try to be at home every night, but omg Japan’s work culture… that can be impossible on some days due to overtime work.

He’ll text you or call you during breaks, more callings on the nights he’s stuck at work—your voice is emotional support and keeps him going. If you fall asleep during FaceTime he’ll just keep the phone there and glancing at your sleeping face once in a while, lowkey feeling more comforted while going half batshit insane with paperworks.

He’ll make it up to you afterwards.

So yeah, once you both get the hang of it it’ll be fine again. Busyness is just a dumb excuse for a relationship to fall apart, that means effort wasn’t being put in enough from both sides. Your relationship with Karma is far away from this.

I feel like when Karma finally finds someone to be openly affectionate with and the said person gives him the same amount of care, it’s healing his inner child too. (I cried)

Please love him I love him so much.

A/N: It's almost 2025 and I'm still not over assclass I want them back so bad my class E babies :((

#delulu is the solulu #Happy New Year fic I guess #akabane karma my beloved #akabane karma x reader #akabane karma #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #karma akabane #assassination classroom #anime x reader #ansatsu kyoushitsu

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iiseult · 9 months ago

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𝐻𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝒩𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒮𝓊𝓃𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝓃𝑒: 𝒜 𝒢𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒞𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓈

CWs → fluff, angst, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy lol, time-period accurate sexism (but hopefully not much cause I ain’t writin allat), arranged marriage, the inevitable misery that this man’s tragic existence brings me, baldwin is originally way more in love than reader is, but don’t worry, you’ll come around!

Wordcount: 3.4k

Note: I can’t be bothered to do any real historical research, so this is surely rife with inaccuracies! Please let me know if there’s something about it that you know that I don’t know that I should know. Get it? Greatly appreciated!

The first time you laid eyes on the King of Jerusalem, he temporarily blinded you. So strong was the high afternoon sunlight that reflected off his silver mask, so pure was the white color of his robes, trimmed in gold. The sight of him in that moment burned itself into your memory forever.

The King’s horse, with a coat just as white as the rest of his majesty’s garments, came to a halt before you, whinnying and kicking up a cloud of dust as his gloved hands pulled back on the reins. You were in his way, and yet you couldn’t move. All you could do was stare up at the one part of him that was visible– his cloudy blue eyes, half-lidded and rimmed in red– and they were focused on you. Though it was hard to tell, it seemed to you his expression must have been soft, almost curious, so you held his gaze for as long as he would permit it. His lashes were blonde and soft, so much so that you were envious of the cheek that must have felt them gently brush against it whenever he blinked. Even if that cheek was hidden behind a mask.

Your father was a wealthy lord, and your mother a distinguished lady, making you no stranger to nobility and the powerful auras that often surrounded them, but his was different. Whereas the gaze of any other King would make you instinctually bow, his made your body freeze and your blood run hot. His was like the light of the sun. It was something you wished to bask in, to savor. Though you had never seen him before, you knew this man was your king. Finally, your body responded to this intrinsic fact and you bowed deeply, your cheeks burning red as a rush of self-hatred overtook you. Only three seconds into finally meeting him, and you were already letting his powerful aura wipe away all that bitter disdain you’d been working on so diligently throughout the past week.

“You may rise,” he uttered, his voice soft and smooth, like the feeling of woven silk against your fingertips. It was higher than you had imagined, a true tenor. Reluctantly, you straightened, doing everything in your power to avoid meeting his eyes again, for that would be improper, and you didn’t want to risk exposing him to the hideous anger that was currently boiling in your heart. Yet. He studied you for a moment, taking in your fine clothing and well-maintained hair, which flowed freely down your back, and came to the conclusion that you must be a lady. Perhaps the one he had been reluctant to meet all week since he had learned of her family’s arrival.

“My lady,” he began, tilting his head to the side, “Why are you alone?”

You broke your oath to yourself and looked back up to him, caught a bit off-guard by his question. Truthfully, you were surprised he was speaking to you at all, when he could have easily ridden his horse away and locked himself in his room, as had been his habit since your arrival. You bit back a dry chuckle and fought to maintain your respectful demeanor. In all honesty, it absolutely enraged you that he hadn’t made any effort to meet you or your family. Although you had been told by everyone that he was a good man and an even better king, you wanted to see that for yourself, and so far he was failing to meet your remarkably low expectations.

“I asked my maid to stay behind while I enjoyed a walk in your gardens,” you replied hesitantly. But why does it matter?

He was silent. You shifted uncomfortably.

“They are most beautiful, Your Majesty,” you added, hoping it was only you that felt the mounting tension.

“What is your name?” he asked softly.

“Y/N.”

He hummed quietly, a sound that made your stomach flip, though you weren’t sure if it was a good or bad feeling.

“So you are lady Y/N,” he stated, “and it is you who are to be my betrothed.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

That night, the King joined you and your family for dinner for the first time all week. His regent, count Raymond III of Tripoli, was shocked that he had finally agreed to leave his solitary games of chess in his bedroom.

“What, if you don’t mind me asking, Your Majesty, caused such a sudden change of heart? Just this morning you were averse to the idea of taking a meal with our guests,” Raymond asked as he and the young king slowly made their way to the great hall. The boy simply replied,

“I met her.”

King Baldwin knew he was running out of time. Day by day he could feel his body being eaten away by his affliction. How nice it would be to have a wife, someone to share his burden and rule alongside him until his time on this earth was at its end. But he never imagined he’d ever find a woman willing to throw her life away like that, or a family willing to condemn their daughter to such a fate. When Raymond told him of your noble family’s offer, he accepted, but not for the selfish reason of personal desire. No, he did so to ensure that Jerusalem would still have a chance at prospering after his passing. It needed to be done for the sake of the people.

After your marriage ceremony, Baldwin planned on allowing his queen to live her life as she pleased, free of any obligation to spend time with him. He would not disturb her or expect affection from her. He knew she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. As far as he was concerned, you’d never be in the same room again, and that was just fine. But he couldn’t completely suppress every one of his selfish desires. Just once, he wanted to let his imagination go, to pretend he could love someone, and that she could love him back. Seeing you for the first time was what made up his mind. Something tender stirred in his heart when he heard you utter your own name, and he decided that just a few hours with you would have to be enough to tide him over for the rest of his life. So he went to dinner.

Everyone stood and bowed as he entered the room. He took his seat at the head of the table and greeted each of his guests kindly. He permitted them to begin their meal, though he wouldn’t be participating. Normally, he had no trouble removing his mask in front of people at mealtimes, but your presence gave him pause. Surely you’d be repulsed, and it would be over before it even began. So he opted out of eating, instead choosing to watch you.

You felt his eyes before you saw them. That same warm feeling washed over you, and it wasn’t due to the wine you were drinking. You looked up and, unsurprisingly, his masked face was tilted in your direction. You fought the instinct to look away and instead held his eye contact, furrowing your brows a bit. Why now was he making an appearance after days of neglect? How were you supposed to react to that? And what gave him the nerve?

Next to you, your mother cleared her throat and whispered your name in a scolding tone. You shook yourself out of your inner monologue and uncreased your brow, which had unintentionally morphed into something closer to a scowl as your thoughts ran away from you. You smiled sheepishly at your mother, who did not look pleased, but she said nothing more about the matter. Next time you managed to steal a glance at the king, he was looking down at his empty plate. Good, you thought, Maybe he’s repenting for ignoring me all week.

When your parents had informed you of the marriage they had arranged between you and the king of Jerusalem, you weren’t exactly thrilled. Being a queen sounded like a big responsibility– one you weren’t sure you even wanted. Yes, it came with a lot of upsides, like the lush palace you’d be living in and the loyal servants that would tend to your every whim, but it also came with the burden of raising a family and making important decisions for your subjects. Not to mention the totally random man you’d suddenly be sharing the rest of your life with. As far as you were concerned, your future relationship with King Baldwin was just a chore; something that was certainly necessary, but not guaranteed to be enjoyable. If you were lucky, the two of you would learn to get along, just as your own parents had, and a few years down the line you’d pop out a couple kids and then wait around to die.

The rest of dinner was excruciating. You couldn’t relax, and your mother was absolutely insufferable, constantly checking to make sure you were sitting up straight and minding your manners. Your father was engaged in a riveting conversation with count Raymond, saving you from further scrutiny. By the end of the meal, you were about ready to retire to bed and stare at the ceiling for a few hours, but god had other plans for you, it seemed.

“Y/N, you’ll be joining the king for a game of chess in the library while your mother and I discuss legal matters with the count. We will come to collect you when we’re finished,” your father ordered, giving you a stern look that essentially told you not to do anything that might jeopardize your future– whatever that implied. You nodded demurely, biting back a scream of frustration. And just like that, he was behind you.

You felt his presence before he even said anything. A gentle heat emanated from his body, and a warm, slightly earthy smell wafted off him, like herbs and spices.

“Lady Y/N, I will show you to the library. Please follow me,” he said, his voice vibrating in his chest, only mere inches away from your back. You shivered and turned to face him, but his eyes were unreadable, and then he was walking away from you. Left with no other option, you followed swiftly, maintaining a safe distance. He led you through the winding, echoing stone hallways of his palace, dimly lit by candles and torches, since the sun had set hours ago. You had to admit, it was a beautiful place, and you wouldn’t mind getting used to it, even if that did mean you had to spend the odd hour with your soon-to-be husband. Soon, you arrived in front of a large, heavy oak door, which he pushed open with ease.

“After you,” he murmured, holding it open for you. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you shuffled into the room, immediately gawking at the towering ceilings and shelves upon shelves of books. There was a spiral staircase on each side of the room that led to a second floor balcony, which was visible through the railing encasing it. In the middle of the room sat a handsome wooden table with a chess board on it, the pieces already set up for a game. You always did like chess, but your two younger brothers constantly hogged the board and didn’t let you play, so you were forced to observe. It was rare that you actually got to play.

“Have a seat, lady Y/N. You can take white,” the king said, pulling out the chair for you. Reluctantly, you sat down, raising an eyebrow and wondering why all the chivalry all of the sudden. It was a little suspicious, but you couldn't help but approve. He kept his gloved hand on the back of the chair until you were comfortable, and then helped you scoot closer to the table. You turned your head and looked up at him, and you noticed the subtle crinkle of his eyes and the softness dancing behind them.

He was smiling.

The corner of your lip quirked up to mirror him– you couldn’t help it, though you had no idea why. And just like that, the sound of blood rushing in your head ceased, and a sense of quiet serenity fell over the room. The defenses you had put up to quell your nerves no longer seemed necessary. The contempt in your heart was ebbing away every moment you spent in his presence. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding before, and made your first move.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The chess game was abysmal. It’s not that you weren’t able to hold your own, because you certainly were, but it wasn’t nearly as easy as you had hoped. Whenever you played with your younger brothers, they’d be wiped in about ten minutes. You thought that’s just how the game was; short and sweet. But already thirty minutes had passed and a winner was just beginning to emerge, and regrettably, it wasn’t you. You scowled as King Baldwin took your last rook.

As you played, he intermittently broke the silence to ask you questions about yourself. At first it was mundane things, like what you enjoyed doing or what your favorite meal was, but it gradually became personal. You discussed your family, fond childhood memories, and your fears. Sometimes he would even throw you a bone and answer one of the questions himself, clearing away the shroud of mystery that surrounded him little by little.

“May I speak freely, my King?” you asked tentatively, ignoring the game for a moment to let him know you were about to get serious. He folded his hands on the edge of the table and leaned back in his chair, studying you carefully.

“You may, although I never wish you to speak conservatively in my presence.”

You smiled thinly, choosing your next words very carefully so as not to overstep boundaries.

“Why do you wear a mask?”

The king bristled at your question, sucking in a sharp breath, and a wave of regret washed over you. But before you could take it back, he replied,

“So nobody has to see it.”

You didn’t know what to say. His answer wasn’t really much of an answer, and it certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, but it sent a pang of pain through your heart nonetheless. Why wouldn’t he want people to see his face, even in the comfort of his own castle?

He seemed to register your confusion, and a chill ran down his spine. Did you really not know, or were you playing a cruel joke? The more he thought about it, the more possible it seemed that Raymond hadn’t told your parents the full truth in order to garner their approval. Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach, for you would certainly leave him the moment you found out. He knew it was too good to be true.

“My lady…are you not aware of my… condition?” he asked quietly, looking down so he wouldn’t have to see your disappointment. Your heart sank, and that rushing sound in your ears returned.

‘Condition…?” you trailed off, swallowing thickly. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Yes. I thought you knew… your parents…I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice strained. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“My lady, I… am a leper. My condition has caused my nerves to degrade slowly, and I am already losing sensation in my right hand. My skin is covered in hideous sores, especially my face. I wear the mask… to spare you.”

You stared. The room was spinning, not from shock, but rather from the sheer anger you felt toward your parents at that moment. They had tricked you. They had played a dirty, dirty trick and married you off, just so they could improve their own social standing, and they had done it all with absolutely no regard for your own wishes. No regard for the rest of your life, even. You slammed your fist on the table, the reverberations knocking over a few chess pieces and causing Baldwin to jump in his seat. He wasn’t expecting you to take the news well, but this was unprecedented. You seethed silently.

Well, that’s just fine, you thought, Because once we’re married, I’ll be the queen of Jerusalem… and the queen is NOT accepting visitors. No exceptions.

Baldwin stayed silent, his head bowed in resignation. He understood how you felt. It was a cruel situation indeed, and he wished he could go back and decline the arrangement, if only to spare you the unimaginable rage that spilled out of your gaze, which was trained intently on some unknowable spot in the distance. You stood abruptly, knocking your chair over as it hit the back of your legs, and he winced at the sound. But to his complete and utter surprise, you didn’t storm out of the room.

Instead, you stormed directly towards him.

Panicking, he rose from his chair, assuming a fortified stance in case you decided to get violent. He wasn’t too worried since he towered over you at an impressive six feet and four inches tall, but he certainly wasn’t looking forward to it, either.

Instead of striking him, you thrust your hand out and grabbed his gloved one, clasping it firmly. He could feel you shaking, presumably with rage.

“Well, King Baldwin,” you began, voice laced with venom, “let me see your face.”

His pretty blue eyes widened, and he didn’t stop you as you reached up and placed a hand on his silver-plated cheek. If you wanted to see, it no longer made a difference to him, since there was no saving the situation anymore. You might as well lay eyes upon the man you had almost married.

He slowly pulled off his hood, revealing a head of silky blond curls that tumbled down to his shoulders, and reached behind his head, untying the threads that held the mask to his face. You felt it give under your touch and removed your hand, letting it fall away and clatter to the floor. Finally, you beheld your king.

“My lord, you’re…” you trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words. Your eyes were wide, and he could see himself in your reflection. His pale skin, mottled with patches of red and pink, his lips, cracked and splitting at the corners, and his own sad blue eyes, one slightly clouded. The same face he saw every morning and every night.

“I know. I can put the mask back on, if you wish. But really, you do get used to it-”

You cut him off by reaching up and gently taking a lock of his curly hair between your fingers, tucking it smoothly behind his ear. He couldn’t help the blush that spread across his face; he had never been this close to a woman before, save for his mother and sister, and they rarely ever dared to touch him. Your gaze was so intense that he almost wanted to look away, but there was something supernatural stopping him from going through with it. And then, you spoke.

“I cannot wait to marry you.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Note: I will add links to the other parts once I post them and idk when that's happening so stay tuned! Part 2

#king baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #baldwin of jerusalem #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven fandom #the leper king

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phoenixisobsessed · 3 months ago

Note

Earthspark Nightshade and Jawbreaker meeting other transformers with animal/beast alt modes 🙏

I hope this is what you meant AHSBHA I tbh just used this to draw my faves from beast wars (Except for Terrorsaur because I wanted to pick the ones probably least likely to murder the Terrans on sight). Also idk if adding Tarantulas was cheating because they already met him, but he IS my fave character in both Earthspark and BW. Grimlock is also one of my faves but I decided having 1 character already in Earthspark (other than the Terrans) was enough.

Cheetor is probably just happy that this Tarantulas isn’t torturing him this time around. Dinobot is in the back questioning why they aren’t doing combat training ??? Decided to add Slash (TF:RBA) too because I thought having some more small dinos would be fun. And Waspinator has been blown up (as always) by the smart trainer.

I’m not shading allat sorry chat BUT I enjoyed drawing my faves HEHEHE (BW is peak and everybody should watch it.)

#transformers #maccadams #maccadam #ask blog #ask #tf fanart #art #art ask #nightshade #tf jawbreaker #dinobot #tf slash #waspinator #cheetor #tf tarantulas #transformers earthspark #transformers beast wars #rescue bots academy

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boop-le-snoot · 2 years ago

Text

masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #female reader #twd smut #not tagging this with norman reedus bc i have posted my face before and I'm not that bold #or am I?

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