#HE SHOULD NOT BE DOING ALLAT

[allpromarlo]

i judge jjk characters by how far they would go for yuji and that's just the way it is

[morsmortish]

something about barty and evan, who have one of those “hopelessly in love yet oblivious” friendships (which infuriates everyone around them), and when they finally get together, they forget to tell people, but no one makes any comments about their ‘new’ behaviour because, guess what? they were like that before.

[herblay]

Thinkin about Hawks man he should b in the club

[persephozee]

i really hope that theres an AOT afterlife simply just so Grisha and Dina get to watch their son get tortured due to their foolish actions

[aloraaki]

Robin: You know, I'm surprised you managed to copy the exact chemicals that made the Joker go insane. They were disposed of after the incident, and literally never remade. Rex: Oh, it wasn't hard. In fact, the chemicals didn't even do much to him, they were just a slightly corrosive material that reduced his melanin, permanently. Robin: Really? Rex: Yeah. He was already crazy before them, but the chemicals just gave him a half-assed excuse for insanity. Superboy: So... doesn't that just mean you knowingly dumped Joker Junior into acid? Rex: Well when you say it like that it sounds bad.

[triglycercule]

is he recognizable. he should be. errors design is impossible to make look bad i say as i dont quite know if this design looks all that good,,,,, not like im gonna try an make another one bc i do NAUGHT have time or energy to make another vice.SER design prototype

my new character guy his whole deal is that he is a chill dude who lwk don’t gaf. Although you may not know him very much right now but he’ll find his way into your heart. JK vice.SER's just error but he fell into the void like a dumbass and now hes changed his strat ‼️‼️ of destroying the multiverse by trying to convince the creators. more to him but like i cannot be bothered. i low key changed errors character so bad that i dont know if anything about his old personality and motivations and stuff can fit into vice.SER's lore bit whatever he looks cool has cool motive has cool everything. maybe i wish he could be a bit more freaky cooking but i probably just havent added enough glitch effects.

[theclosetedskeleton]

UHHH why the fuck is my head starting to twitch anyways i should probably work on that science assignment due soon like in an hour

[nkogneatho]

Y'all know those insecure girlfriends on tiktok when their boyfriend does their makeup accurately, they go “what bitch taught you that?” yeah, Gojo is the male version of that.

He knows he is attractive, and that everyone dotes on him. But you look out of this world. Everybody wants you. Like all of his friends have tried to hit on you a few times. They said it's just playful, but his insecurities kicked in.

One evening, you showed up to one of his totally unserious basketball games with his homies, cheering him every time he dunks.

“Suguru, my girl's watchin'. Gotta show off a bit, yeah?” he smirks, licking his lips his reflexes were so good that barely anyone else could keep up with him. It was like he had drank 10 liters of energy drink with the sudden speed boost.

You hopped in his arms when the match was over, peppering his face with kisses as he enjoyed his victory, showing a middle finger to suguru to which he rolled his eyes.

“you look so cool when you jump so high, toru!” you squealed in happiness. He really did look cool.

“hehe, you liked that, baby? Jumped a little higher just for you.” he kissed your forehead.

“hate to say it, but he is undefeated.” suguru spoke up. “feel like we need to put you on the court, y/n just to distract him so we can win.” your cheeks started burning up at that. You and satoru have been dating for a few months, but you were still not used to the way everyone talks about him as if he's a simp for you. well, he is and should be.

“i would still win though.” your eyes shifted to gojo. You were a little offended at that, even though it was just messing around. It was his habit.

“alright. Let's have a 1v1” the men did not miss the shift of your tone. Suguru knew satoru might be in trouble, while the white haired wasn't worrying about it too much. Because you're not too savvy with basketball aside from what he's taught you, and he is a pro. Sure, you would be mad later, but nothing he can't make up to you.

The boys spread in corners, as you and gojo exchanged a competitive gaze—yours was competitive and his was more of a “i love when you get riled up”—before the match began. The game was not anything serious, so all you had to do was score five points. It was a piece pf cake for gojo but you were being surprisingly competitive. You scored two points just as soon as he did. His homeboys thought that gojo was going easy on you but suguru knew he was struggling. But he lives up to his name and score two points, making him just 1 score away from his sweet victory. There's no way you can win now. If you miss this chance, it's over. But you remembered something someone had taught you and all that “i'd still win though” just pumped up enough adrenaline and oh. my. god.

Gojo's jaw dropped as you shot a three pointer, your lips widening into an evil grin, and all the boys cheered at your win. You were sure they're gonna tease him about today until eternity. Toru was impressed…well, for a few seconds before he hit you with a,

“which motherfucker taught you that? because I don't remember teaching you this yet.” you were laughing but his reaction was genuine.

“hey, c'mon now. don't call me a motherfucker.” suguru slid in, a hand resting on gojo's arm. “i'm a good teacher, aren't I?” he winked at you.

“the fuck? When the fuck did you teach her?”

“last week when we were playing at toji's party.” gojo was too busy playing beer bong at that time.

“thank you, suguru. And you…" you looked at your man, "where is allat “but I'd still win though” attitude?” you mocked him.

“ight fine. you got me. i was just messin' around and ya'know that. don't get mad at me, baby,” he snaked an arm around your waist. “we're both winners. We gotta celebrate properly, right?” he leaned closer to your ears.

“now let's see who wins in the bedroom, tonight. hmm? You know i gotta settle the score, princess.”

[chr0llossexygf]

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.

@corpsebridenightamare

@crbug

@bradleybradshawsrealwife

@regulus-black-223048

@cupidddd-d

@lonelywitchv2

@sarahbeary

@ciaraguy9

@murc0ck

@welcome-to-the-hole

@daisyridleyyyy

@deceasedream69

@upside-down-angel

@rosaliedepp

@panicattheeverywherekid

@ily-jupit3r

@zucchinimalfoy

@wanderingwillows

@eileen201804

@po55um

@krissisout

@storiesrevisited

@aturmumshouse

@hoonieyun

@cumbermovels

@th3-ros3

@aphr0d1teh

@herowhateve232

@julesandro

@alainabooks143

@mandyki

@kaitlynpcallmebeepme

@spencerreidswife13

@kenqki

@preciousbabypeter

@multifandom-l0ver

@fudosl

@alltheloveamelia

@mirophobic

@adoresope

@izzzzy-the-amazing

@marimorena06

@filmsbyblair

@stevenknightmarc

@taygrls

@katieannrichards

@slay-and-gay

@imagininghim

@vivi-wtz

@dory-98

[boop-le-snoot]

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

[allpromarlo]

can you even call yourself an analyst if you only know players from the best teams in the league

[iiseult]

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

[xesiarah]

𓏵 Yan!Loser x Reader (Drabble)

My favorite animal is Lucian when reader tries to leave him 🤫🧏

HIS INTRO FIC >.<

—

—

"A-am I not enough..?" Lucian's voice was whiney, meek, yet with a hint of menace seething through his words. There's something... something uncanny.. seemingly just right beneath the facade of innocence, the beads of tears rolling down his cheeks swiftly, and the glisten of the tip of the knife pressed firmly against his neck under the illuminating light.

"Why, why, why, why.." he mutters under his breath, repeating manically as if trying to think of a reason plausible enough for him, for his delusional, overthinking, — overbearingly possessive brain cells.

"I-i-i.. just love you so much... you can't do this to me... I just can't fucking breathe—" he trails off, his tears blurring his vision as he swore he could feel his legs weaken, like a victorian child seeing that Snapchat dog filter for the first time. — As if the idea of you being able to just walk out the door and leave him to go fend for himself, continuing on with your life without him being able to breath down your neck every second of everyday, just weakens his overall ability to function.

His breathing growis erratic, it's pattern going inconsistent. "I'll die... I'll die without you." The desperation is evident in the flickers of his eyes, a threatening madness, as if daring you. Daring you to walk out that door and leave his sorry ass.

"Okay, dude. What the fuck." You raise both hands in a defensive manner, your sweaty palms facing him. like yk what people do in movies when they get confronted by the FBI. "I was just fucking asking if you wanted chipotle.."

Maybe that 'i can fix him' mentality didn't work, after all. You think you sort of made him worse. "I just didn't want to drag you along, cus' I'll only be out briefly." You explained, your eyebrows knitted together as you took a step closer, it's as if concern, anxiety, was etched onto your face alltogether.. Just how mentally unwell is this motherfucker?

"I wanted to come a-a-along, and you didn't let me... W-what if you were secretly meeting someone else!? What if you—" his complaints, or more like blabber fall upon deaf ears. He didn't acknowledge the fact you were taking baby steps closer, immersed in his will to voice his worries.

Slowly, you managed to take hold of the knife, separating the dangerous weapon from the very dangerous person, regaining a sense of control of the situation as you coo empty praises in an attempt to soothe his shivered timbers, cupping both sides of his cheek and even wiping a few tears away with your thumb. You don't want to fucking die yet, after all.

He doesn't let you tear your gaze away from him as you gently, fucking finally, place the knife down on a nearby coffee table, your attention solely on him. As it should. According to him, I guess. — as soon as you do, he immediately jumps on you, clinging onto you like a lifeline as the suddenly impact causes the both of you to fall to the floor in a loud thud.

"Lucian..?" You question, raising an eyebrow.

He answers with nothing, scarily just doesn't say anything. Anything at all. The silence deafening. The only sound being his ragged breathing, and your own, mingling together. "Don't go." He mumbles after moments of silence, his breath hot against your skin.

He buries himself further into the crook of your neck, inhaling in your scent deeply. "Stay." He spoke once again, his voice now raspy from allat crying.

He snuggles onto you, as if trying to merge into one, single being. Whilst you on the other hand, lay in defeat. He's heavy. Like a damned boulder. What makes it worse is that you're sweating like a bitch and your head is throbbing from the sudden hit to the ground. — fucking hell. Guess you owe him cuddles now.

And, the price of wanting chipotle... 😞

[amsznn]

ALWAYS SECOND - c.sturniolo

warnings: mentions of cheating

-

2:56 A.M.

your phone rang. it wasn’t strange for you to get calls at this time. especially not with the situation you’re in.

you fumbled to grab your phone before the screen lit up with the contact name ‘chris’ blaring at your eyes. you contemplated whether or not you should answer, but ultimately you gave in.

“you up?” was all he had to say, and before you knew it he was at your door, in your house, and in your bed.

all you could do was stare at the ceiling as chris lightly snored. seemingly comfortable in your bed. you shifted to your side to get a better angle of him. the clock on the nightstand next to him read ‘4:24 A.M.’ and you knew you would have a hard time getting up for classes later but you didn’t care.

you wanted to cherish this moment for as long as you could, hold on to it just before..

ring ring ring

she called.

chris jolted up, at the sound of his ringtone and quickly grabbed his phone from beside him. you already knew what this was about. chris got out of the bed and quickly shuffled on his clothes before hanging up the phone.

“i gotta go, see you later?” he said before quickly planting a kiss on your forehead. you couldn’t bother to respond. because by later he meant the next day, and the next, and so on.

but he would never stay those days.

not when he had a girlfriend.

he always said you made him feel better and he felt like himself around you. so why were you left longing for him? why was she the one he went back to every night?

why were you always second.

-

a/n: no tags today as im writing this at night and im too lazy to do allat. I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING CHAT. this is simply fiction.

[phoenixisobsessed]

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.)

[y0urm0mst0es]

I'll Kiss Your Scars

Sal Fisher x reader comfort fic

Summary: You and Sal are seniors in high school, both of you still living in the apartments. After a long night of self-loathing, you decide to visit Sal to try and feel better.

Or

You and Sal get together after he cleans you up and comforts you ig

TW: reader sh, scars, blood, self-hate I think, smut and allat. Characters are 18 and Sal might be ooc but whatev. Reader is afab and y/n is used. Wrote the last part while high😔. Pls let me know if I missed something!

It was around midnight. The moon shone through your balcony window as you sat on your bed, tears rolling down your face. Blood from your newly cut wounds had stained your sweatshirt and pajama pants. Looking over to your nightstand, you see the walkie-talkie Sal had given you around the time you first met. You grab it and press the talk button, hoping Sal is still awake.

“Sal?” you say, your voice shaking.

“Y/N? What’s up?” he answers. Taking a deep breath, you spoke again.

“I’m sorry, were you sleeping? I didn’t mean to wake you or anyth-”

"No, no, I wasn't sleeping so don't worry about it. Is something wrong?" He was always so sweet, worrying if you were okay. That's probably one of the reasons you fell for him.

"I just…I don't think I can be alone right now, you know? Can I come over?" You knew his dad was working late so you wouldn't have to sneak in.

"Yeah, of course. The door's unlocked so you can just come in," he responds, his voice laced with concern. You put down the walkie-talkie and make your way to his apartment, careful not to wake your sleeping family members. Soon, you reach the apartment and walk in, the familiar atmosphere welcoming you. Walking towards Sal's room you pass by the sleeping cat on the worn couch.

You reach his closed door and knock lightly. Almost immediately, the door swings open, revealing your blue-haired friend. He's about the same height as you and is wearing his white and pink prosthetic along with loose pajamas. His hair is down which surprises you. It's rare to see him without his signature pigtails.

"Hey," you say softly.

"Hey, are you alright?" he questions. He leads you into his room and you sit on his bed. Sighing deeply, you look up at him and shake your head. Sal sits beside you and takes your hand. "Well, if you wanna talk about it I'll listen and if there's anything you need I'll gladly get it for you."

You give him a small smile. "Thank you, Sally." He smiles back, even though you can't see it. He then looks down at your hand and notices the stains on your sleeve.

"Y/N, what's that?" he asks, voice wavering. You quickly pull your hand away and look at the marks.

"Shit," you say breathlessly. "'m sorry, I didn't mean for you to see that." You avoid his gaze and look to the floor.

"It's okay, not your fault. Can I…see them?" Your breath hitches and your eyes widen.

"Are you sure?" he nods. "okay," you breathe out. You move your arm over to him and he gently takes it. Sal moves his fingers along your sleeve and slides it up, revealing the marks. Seeing them, he breathes in sharply. He runs his thumb along the new and old cuts, making you flinch.

"S-sorry..I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispers.

"I know, it's okay," you say just as quietly.

"You should let me clean these. I don't want them to get infected or anything," Sal says sweetly. He stands up and offers his hand to you to take.

"Oh Sal, you don't have to do that…"

"But I want to," he says, reassuring you. You would've kissed him right then and there if you could've.

You stand up and follow him to the bathroom. He sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and gets a wet cloth for your wounds. You decide to take your sweatshirt off since you're wearing a tank top underneath. Sal comes back with the cloth and sits beside you. He tries to avoid looking at your newly exposed skin, a slight blush creeping up his face. You put your arm out for him and he takes it.

"I'll try not to hurt you," he says, putting the wet cloth on your arm and applying pressure to stop any bleeding. He then gently wipes away the dried blood. You watch him, tears coming to the corners of your eyes. Of course, Sal notices. "Am I hurting you?" he asks, stopping.

"No, it's not because of you, Sally." You put a reassuring hand on his and smile softly.

"Okay, let me know if I am, alright?" You nod and he finishes cleaning you. "Is it just this or are there others?" You look to your clothed thigh where old scars would be.

"Just this I think." You notice dried blood from your arm on the bottoms. "Damn it, the blood got on my pants," you say under your breath.

"Do you need new ones? I think I have some that'll fit you." Sal stands and heads for the door.

"Oh, yeah. Thank you." He soon returns with new pajama bottoms for you. You accept them, your hand brushing against his. You feel your face heat up and quickly turn away to change. Sal also turns to give you some privacy. You take your pants off and begin to put the new ones on, your fingers brushing across the old marks on your thigh.

"I'm done," you say as you turn back around. He also turns and walks toward you.

"You feeling better now?" he asks, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm feeling much better. Thank you, Sal." I wrap him in a hug which he reciprocates. You bury your head in his neck and feel how warm he is. You reluctantly pull away, not wanting to make it weird. "It's late. I don't wanna keep you up so I should head back."

"Oh, I was gonna ask if you wanted to stay over. But, yeah, if you don't want to that's totally fine," Sal says, fidgeting with his hands.

"You wouldn't mind me staying over?" Truth is, you didn't want to go home. You did want to stay with Sal but you didn't know if he felt the same.

"Course not, I care about you and don't want you to be alone in a vulnerable state," he says, taking your hand. You stare into each other's eyes, yours quickly flicking to his prosthetic lips. He sees this and goes bright red.

Sal turns and leads the two of you back to his room. You both sit back on his bed awkwardly. He takes your arm again and runs his fingers over your scars. Your heart beats faster. Bringing your hand to cup his face, you place a quick kiss on his faux lips. When he doesn't say anything, you quickly apologize.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I thought..Never mind, just forget I did that, please," you say, not facing him.

"Don't be sorry. I..I liked it," he says shyly. You turn and look at him. You want to kiss him again and he seems to feel the same. Sal leans in and places his prosthetic lips against yours. You pull away after a few seconds.

"Sally, I wanna kiss you for real," you say breathlessly.

"Really?" You nod. Too scared to do it himself, Sal brings your hand to the back of his head to remove the mask. You undo the latches and slowly take it off, revealing his scarred face. After setting the mask down, you place a hand on his cheek, gently tracing and admiring his scars. Tears start to well up in his eyes.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" you ask worriedly. He shakes his head.

"No, you're perfect, you did nothing wrong. It's just…no one's ever reacted like that to seeing my face. Everyone's always disgusted or scared," he responds softly. You look at him lovingly.

"Oh Sal, I could never think that way about you. You're beautiful," you say, your thumb brushing over his lips. He immediately smashes his lips against yours, kissing you sloppily. You bring your hand to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. He quietly moans into the kiss, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. His hands move to your waist, laying you down so he's on top of you. Sal breaks the kiss and moves to your neck, kissing and biting his way down. He starts to slide his hand under your shirt then stops.

"Can I?" he asks sweetly. You quickly nod your head, giving him permission. Sal continues to move his hand up your torso and take off your shirt, revealing your breasts. You shiver as the air hits your bare chest. He admires the way your body looks, practically drooling over your tits.

"What, you never seen boobs before?" you joke. Sal's face goes red and he avoids your gaze. You giggle at his reaction and decide to do things yourself. You take his hands and move them to grasp your chest. He starts to move on his own, fondling your breasts and tweaking your nipples. You arch your back, leaning into his touch. Sal decides to take you into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple.

Releasing you from his mouth, he takes your arm into his gentle hands and kisses the palm of your hand, moving down your wrist and scars. He takes care to kiss each scar on your arm, appreciating every part of you. You just watch in amazement, eyes full of love.

He then moves to kiss down the rest of your torso, soon reaching your waist. Sal starts to pull the bottoms down and you lift your hips to help him. As he pulls them down, his fingers brush against the scar tissue on your thigh. He leans his head down and kisses all around your thighs, doing the same as he did with your wrist. Sal lightly tugs on your panties, his fingers achingly close to your core.

Instead of waiting for him, you begin to take your panties off, revealing your wet cunt. Sal's heart hammers in his chest, not knowing what to do. You guide his fingers to where you need him, silently instructing him on what to do.

Sal dips his middle and ring fingers into your aching cunt, slowly moving them inside of you.

"Just like that, Sal. So good baby," you moan breathlessly. He continues to move his fingers inside your gummy walls, finding your most sensitive spot. Sal leans down and begins to lick around your already swollen clit. You buck your hips from how good you feel. At that, Sal fully takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it harshly. You felt your orgasm quickly approaching, letting out groans of pleasure.

"Sally?" He stops as he hears his name called.

"Yeah?" You sit up and kiss him gently. You lay him down in your previous spot and straddle his hips. You could feel how hard he was for you through his pants.

"Take your shirt off for me, baby," you say softly. He hurriedly takes his shirt off while you work on removing his pants and boxers. Finally rid of his clothes, you have a chance to sit back and admire how pretty he is. You lean in and kiss him passionately, running your hands down his chest towards his erection. "You're so pretty, Sal. I want you so bad," you say, fingers wrapping around his cock.

"Oh my god," he says quietly, tilting his head back. You start to jerk him off slowly, gathering his dripping precum. Once you think he's ready, you position his cock toward your entrance.

"You ready?" you ask.

"Y-yes, please.." he whispers, whining lightly. You grin and kiss him, sliding down slowly. Moaning into the kiss, he wraps his hands around your waist. You begin to move, rocking your hips against his.

You move together, creating a satisfying and fast-paced rhythm. Arching your back, you groaned into his mouth.

"F-fuck, Y/N, 'm so close," he whimpered. You could feel yourself getting close too.

"It's okay, Sal. Me too," you moaned.

"Please, Y/N, I wanna finish in you."

"You wanna cum in my pussy, Sally?" you cock your head teasingly. His face somehow gets redder and he whines, tossing his head back.

"Please, I-I-" he cuts himself off with a deep moan, cumming inside you. You toss your head back, riding him faster. Sal finishes and starts to get overstimulated when you keep going.

"Y/N I-I can't.." he whimpers.

"I'm so close baby. Can you go just a little longer?" you whispered. He moaned and nods his head, his cock still hard. You bring his hand down to rub your clit. This makes you throw your head back. You finally came, letting out a deep whine. The feeling of your pussy clenching around him makes him whimper, cumming for a second time.

You ride out your high, finally coming to a stop. You look down at his pretty face and kiss him. Laying down beside him, you pepper his smiling face with kisses. He wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your chest.

"I love you, Sal," you say.

"You do?"

"Mhm, so much."

"I love you too." You spend the rest of the night together in each other's arms.