#I didn’t know if maybe that came off as me being short or anything I just didn’t want to like copy-paste all the stuff I wrote haha

[thebarneschronicles]

Out of Depth, Into You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes was supposed to get in and out. Simple. Clean. But Hydra had other plans.

An ambush leaves him broken, bleeding, and barely standing—and you’re the only thing keeping him upright. Trapped in a safehouse, patching him up with shaking hands, you realize the truth you’ve been avoiding: you almost lost him. And that scares you more than anything.

Because Bucky isn’t just your mission partner. He’s yours.

And maybe… just maybe, he’s known it all along.

Trigger Warnings: Violence (injuries, blood, broken bones, combat); Medical trauma (setting a broken bone, treating severe wounds); PTSD/trauma symptoms (flashbacks, avoidance, emotional suppression); Self-deprecation/self-worth issues (Bucky struggling with his identity and past); Smut (very little but still there !!!!)

Author’s Note: OOPS, I did it again. Idk, man, thoughts of being the one to save him for once were swirling and I had to do it again. Blame the hormones! Hope you like it and let me know what you think. B x

--

He should’ve been in and out. That was the plan.

But somewhere between Bucky taking out the first two guards and you directing him toward the extraction point, everything had gone to hell. You should’ve known he couldn’t, shouldn’t have gone in alone.

No matter how much time had passed, no matter how many missions he completed, Hydra never stopped hunting him. They never stopped wanting their soldier back, their weapon, their ghost of the past. Maybe they’d been waiting for an opportunity just like this—Bucky Barnes, alone in Eastern Europe, tracking down a Hydra splinter cell. Everything had been fine until it wasn’t.

And when Hydra saw their chance, they took it.

You had been following this lead together, him on the field, you in his ear, his eyes when he couldn’t see, his guide when things went south. But neither of you had expected the ambush. Too many hostiles. Too little time.

You heard it before you saw it. The grunts of effort, the dull crack of fists against flesh, the sickening crunch of bone breaking. Bullets ricocheted off vibranium in sharp, ringing bursts. Shouts filled your comms, angry orders in languages you didn’t recognize, and then—

Then you heard his hiss of pain. Short, sharp, barely contained. A sound that turned your blood to ice.

Bucky never let pain show.

Your hands flew over the keyboard, trying to pull up security feeds, but his voice cut through your panic, strained but calm. Too calm.

"I need an exit. Now."

Your heart stopped.

Bucky Barnes never walked away from a fight. He fought until there was no one left standing but him. If he was asking for an exit, it meant something was very, very wrong.

You yanked up the nearest camera feed and felt the world lurch beneath you.

There he was—cornered in a crumbling warehouse, backed against a stack of rusted shipping crates. He was holding his own, but barely. Blood dripped down his temple in sluggish trails. A bruise darkened his jaw, stark even in the grainy footage. But worst of all—his right arm, his flesh arm, was hanging limp at his side, twisted at an angle that wasn’t natural.

You gripped the edge of the desk so hard your knuckles ached.

Broken. His arm was broken.

And if his arm was that bad, you didn’t want to think about what other injuries he was forcing himself to fight through.

Your voice wavered, but you forced it to stay steady. "Bucky, there’s a service door to your left. Get there and I can guide you out."

"Copy," he gritted out, his breath heavy, strained.

He fought his way to the door, but you saw it—the way he staggered, the way every movement came at a cost. Every punch with his left arm rippled agony through his body. Every twist, every block, every moment that should have been second nature was suddenly a fight to stay upright.

And still, he kept going.

By the time he made it through the door, you were already running.

Darkened streets blurred past as you sprinted toward the extraction point. Your lungs burned, but it didn’t matter. You needed to get to him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to come out unscathed, meet you at the car, and get out before things got messy.

There weren’t supposed to be this many Hydra agents.

There wasn’t supposed to be a fight.

Fear clawed at your throat.

You rounded the last corner and skidded to a stop.

Bucky.

Leaning heavily against a brick wall, half-shadowed beneath the flickering glow of a streetlamp. His chest rose and fell too fast, his breath ragged. His skin looked pale—too pale. Blood painted the side of his face, his fingers, his shirt. He lifted his head as you approached, his jaw clenched so tight you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

Up close, he looked worse. So much worse.

And that—that terrified you.

You had seen him bleed before. Had heard his sharp, bitten-off curses through comms, had watched him shake off pain like it was nothing. But this was different.

This was Bucky barely standing.

This was his chest rising and falling too fast, his face too pale, his right arm twisted and useless at his side. This was blood—so much blood—seeping through his jacket, dripping from his fingers, staining the ground beneath him.

And you��you couldn’t breathe.

Your hands trembled as you reached for him, the rest of the world fading away. Nothing else existed except for the wreckage of him—broken, bleeding, and still standing.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this.

He was just your mission partner. Just the man in your ear, the one you guided through hell and back, the one who always came out on the other side. Just the Soldier.

Except he wasn’t.

He was Bucky.

Your Bucky.

You swallowed hard, shoving the rising panic back down where it belonged. You couldn’t afford to lose it. Not now.

Stepping into his space, you braced his good side, feeling the solid weight of him against you. And that’s when you realized—

He was leaning on you.

Bucky Barnes, who carried the weight of his past like an iron chain, was letting you carry him.

Your throat tightened.

"Hey, Soldier," you murmured, voice steadying through sheer force of will. Anything to drown out the fear clawing at your ribs. "Still with me?"

For a second, he didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at you.

Then—his lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk, like he wanted to make some cocky remark. But all that came out was a wince.

"Yeah," he rasped, voice rough, worn down to nothing. "Just having a great time."

Something in you cracked.

You exhaled sharply, fingers twisting in his jacket, clutching onto him like you could hold him together.

He was alive.

Battered, broken, bleeding out against you—but alive.

And you were going to keep him that way.

The drive to the safehouse was short, but agonizing.

The car felt too small, too silent, too full of blood and fear. Your hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white as you tried to keep your body from shaking apart. You had to stay focused. Had to keep breathing. Had to ignore the way Bucky’s breath, shallow and uneven, filled the space between you like a countdown.

Every bump in the road pulled a ragged sound from his throat, one he barely let slip past gritted teeth. His broken arm was cradled against his chest, his fingers twitching, blood soaking through the fabric of his jacket and seeping into the leather seats. Thick. Dark. Too much.

Don’t think about it.

You’d already gone through a mental list of everything you needed to do once you got him inside—stop the bleeding, set the bone, clean the wounds. All of it so completely out of your depth that panic pressed against your ribs, sharp and unforgiving.

The safehouse appeared through the trees, a dark shape buried deep in the woods. You yanked the car into park, twisting toward him before the engine had even died.

"Buck," you said, voice unsteady. "Buck?"

Nothing.

"Bucky, you still with me?"

For a second, nothing but silence—and then, finally, a low, pained grunt. A small nod. Barely anything, but it was enough to keep the panic from swallowing you whole. A grunt of acknowledgment that shouldn’t have felt like relief but did.

You swallowed hard and moved fast, yanking open his door, looping an arm around his waist as you pulled him up. He was heavy. Too heavy.

Getting him inside was its own battle.

Bucky Barnes was all muscle and solid weight, and even now—weaker than you had ever seen him, barely upright, barely conscious—he still outweighed you by too much. You nearly buckled under his weight, but he held onto you.

His full weight pressed against you, and for the first time since you’d known him, he didn’t try to carry himself. Didn’t try to tough it out, to stay standing on his own. Because he couldn’t.

Each step sent fresh bolts of pain through him, his teeth clenched so tight you swore you could hear the grind of enamel. He swayed dangerously, his blood leaving a trail in the grass, marking the path of his suffering.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as you tightened your grip around his waist.

"Almost there," you whispered, half to him, half to yourself. "Just a little further, Buck. Stay with me."

His only response was another sharp exhale through his nose—the sound of a man trying not to curse or scream.

By the time you dragged him over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind you, your entire body was trembling. The adrenaline that had kept you moving, kept you upright, was beginning to wear off, leaving only panic in its wake. Your breath came in short, uneven gasps as you struggled to keep him upright, his weight more than you could truly handle.

"Come on, Bucky, please, just a little longer," you begged, voice cracking as you guided him toward the worn-out chair near the fireplace. You barely managed to ease him down before your legs nearly gave out beneath you. "I need you to stay awake, honey."

The endearment slipped out without thought, but neither of you acknowledged it. His head lolled forward, strands of damp, sweat-soaked hair clinging to his forehead. His breath was a shallow rasp, chest barely rising and falling.

Logically, you knew he could heal. His body would knit itself back together, given enough time. But logic didn’t stop the knot of dread twisting inside you, didn’t chase away the fear choking you as you took in the state of him.

You had never seen him this bad.

His skin was pale—too pale. Sickly, almost. Sweat slicked his forehead, tracing tracks down the sharp angles of his cheekbones. The bruising along his temple was already deepening, a sickly shade of purple that stood out against his ashen skin. His left arm was an ugly mess—swollen, bent at a sickening angle. And then there was the gash along his ribs, jagged and deep, seeping blood at an alarming rate.

Your hands scrambled for the first-aid kit, tearing it open with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling. "Okay," you said, forcing a steadying breath, forcing yourself to focus. "I need to set your arm."

Bucky exhaled slowly. His eyelids fluttered, his breathing labored. But when his gaze finally found yours, there was no fear. No hesitation.

Just quiet, unwavering trust.

A barely perceptible nod.

No complaints. No resistance. Just Bucky Barnes trusting you with his pain.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because Bucky Barnes never let anyone take care of him. He barely let people touch him, let alone see him like this—vulnerable, human. The weight of that trust settled deep in your chest, thick and heavy.

For a fleeting second, a dangerous thought slipped through the cracks of your resolve—what would it be like if he let you touch him in other ways? If his trust extended beyond battlefield necessity, beyond survival, into something more?

You swallowed hard and shoved the thought away. Now was not the time.

Shoving it down, you grabbed the shears from the kit and began cutting away his ruined jacket, peeling the blood-soaked fabric from his skin. His arm was an ugly mess—swollen, bruised, bent at an angle that made your stomach turn. But the deep gash across his ribs wasn’t much better, the bruising on his temple stark against his too-pale skin.

Your hands hovered over him for a moment. Hesitant. Terrified.

You can do this.He needs you.Your fingers pressed against his skin, searching for the break. He barely reacted.

Except—when you touched the worst of it.

His body tensed. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His metal hand curled into a fist against his thigh.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, throat tight. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—"

Then, before you could think too hard about it, before you could hesitate—you pushed the bone back into place.

The sound it made was sickening.

Bucky’s whole body locked up. His teeth clenched, every muscle in his body straining against the agony tearing through him.

Your stomach lurched. You wanted to take it back. Wanted to take it from him.

But then—it was done.

You looked up, searching for his eyes, needing to see that he was still with you.

But his eyes were shut, his lips a thin, bloodless line.

He hadn’t screamed.

Hadn’t even made a sound.

"Buck?"

Your voice was barely more than a whisper, but it felt like a scream in the suffocating silence of the safehouse. Your hands were slick with his blood, still shaking, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You didn't know how to make it stop.

"Bucky?"

Still no response. His head lolled slightly, his breath uneven, shallow. The dim light in the room cast long shadows over his face, accentuating the stark pallor of his skin, the gauntness in his features. He looked fragile, and that was something you never associated with Bucky Barnes.

Your fingers fumbled, pressing against his neck, searching for his pulse. Your mind screamed at you to calm down, to think logically. The serum would keep him alive. He wasn’t dying. He couldn’t be dying. But logic meant nothing when fear had its claws in you.

Too fast. But steady.

He was alive. He was going to stay alive.

A sob clawed its way up your throat, thick and suffocating, but you swallowed it down. No time for that. You had to focus. He needed you.

You forced your trembling hands to work, pressing gauze against the deep gash in his side, trying to stem the flow of blood. The fabric soaked through instantly, a deep crimson blooming across the sterile white.

"Come on, Buck," you murmured, voice barely holding steady. "The serum needs to kick in. Just let it work, okay?"

Your fingers traced the edges of the wound, breath hitching at the heat radiating from his fevered skin. The cut was deep—too deep—but not fatal. It had to be something sharp, something deliberate. The thought made your stomach twist. Whoever had done this had meant to hurt him, had meant to make him suffer.

You pressed down harder, desperate to keep the bleeding in check. He let out a low, pained groan, his body tensing beneath your touch. Your heart clenched.

"Did I make it worse?" Your voice cracked. "Am I hurting you more? Please, Buck, you gotta tell me something, anything..."

Silence stretched between you, thick and unbearable. His chest rose and fell in slow, shallow movements. The hum of the wind outside filled the void. Your hands, stained with his blood, trembled against him.

Then—

A rough, barely-there sound. A groan, deep and strained.

His throat bobbed as his lashes fluttered. His brows drew together, his lips parting as he struggled to pull in a breath.

And then, so quietly you almost missed it—

"Nah."

Your heart stuttered.

His voice, though raw and wrecked, was unmistakable. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, so overwhelming it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. You reached up, pressing his sweaty hair back and away from his forehead.

His head shifted slightly, his fevered skin pressing into the palm of your hand. His breathing hitched as another wave of pain rolled through him, but he forced his eyes open just enough to look at you.

Blue. So damn blue.

And looking right at you.

"It’s not—" He swallowed thickly. "Not your fault," he rasped. His lips twitched, like he was trying for a smile, but it barely formed before fading. "I'm still in one piece."

A breathy, choked laugh escaped you, completely unbidden. God, how could he joke right now?

Your fingers curled against his jaw, your grip grounding both of you. "Barely," you whispered. "You’re a mess, Bucky."

A slow, uneven exhale left him. "Wouldn’t be the first time."

Your throat tightened. Even now, bleeding out, clinging to consciousness by a thread, he was trying to reassure you. Trying to make it easier.

"Is there anything else I can do?" you asked, voice small, desperate. "To make the serum work faster? God, why isn't it working, Bucky?"

He let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching against his thigh. His lips parted, but it took him a moment to form words.

"Takes... time," he murmured, voice slurred with exhaustion. "Always does. Just gotta... wait."

Wait. The thought was unbearable. Sitting here, helpless, while he fought to heal—it felt like torture.

Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, the stubble rough against your skin. He blinked sluggishly, exhaustion tugging at him, but he was here. 

"You’re supposed to heal, Buck," you whispered. "Please. Promise me."

A slow, lazy blink. Then another. His lips parted, another whisper of breath escaping. Speaking seemed like a tremendous effort.

"‘I will, doll."

The nickname slipped out, rough and unintentional, but it sent something hot and aching through your chest.

He didn't know. He had no idea. How much you loved him. How much it would break you if he didn’t recover. You could barely even entertain the thought.

You swallowed hard, pressing your forehead against his, letting his warmth seep into you, grounding you.

"Good," you breathed, voice shaking. "You better."

His lips quirked—just barely, just enough.

And then, exhaustion pulled him under again.

–

He slept for hours.

So long that time lost meaning. The only markers of its passing were the slow shift of light through the windows, the way the world outside darkened and quieted, and the steady rhythm of his breath.

At some point, just before nightfall, you had dragged him to the old couch, wincing as his weight slumped against you, his body a dead weight of exhaustion and blood loss. The couch was too small, barely accommodating his frame, but it was better than the rickety old chair. You had folded up a sweater to tuck beneath his head, hoping to give him something resembling comfort.

Then, you sat beside him. You stayed there, unmoving, watching over him like some kind of silent sentinel. Every breath he took became an anchor, something to hold onto while the storm inside you raged.

The serum was working, you realized. 

You willed it to.

You willed your hands not to tremble when you finally dared to check his wound. The bleeding had stopped. The deep gash at his side was still an angry thing, but no longer a threat. You cleaned him up as best you could, dabbing away the dried blood, the sweat, the remnants of a battle neither of you had been sure he’d walk away from. He didn’t stir when you bandaged him up, didn’t even wince when you pressed down to ensure it held. He was dead to the world, lost in some place where pain couldn’t touch him.

The relief hit you like a punch to the gut. So intense it nearly stole your breath.

You could have taken a shower. You could have eaten, slept, done a million things in the endless stretch of time before he woke. And yet, you sat there, knees drawn to your chest, hands curled into your sleeves as you watched him. The soft light from the kitchen, the only you one had dared to turn on, flickered across his face, softening the sharp planes of his jaw, making him look almost peaceful.

Almost.

Bucky Barnes never looked truly at peace. Even in sleep, there were the faint lines of tension around his eyes, the ever-present ghosts lingering beneath the surface.

You had no idea when it happened. When he became more than just the man you guided through missions, monitored from a distance, and kept safe from behind a screen. It had snuck up on you in the quiet moments—the way he paid attention to your every word, the way he trusted your intel without question, the way his voice softened just a little when he spoke your name. The rare, fleeting glint of warmth in his.low chuckle when you cracked a joke through his earpiece like you were the only thing tethering him to something lighter, something more than the constant battles he had to face.

You never meant for this to happen. But it had.

And now here you were, sitting in the half-dark, staring at him like a fool, with a heart that beat too fast in your chest.

A low, hoarse sound broke the silence. A groan, rough with sleep and exhaustion.

Your breath hitched as his head stirred against the makeshift pillow. The twitch of his fingers, the slow shift of his expression—until those blue eyes finally cracked open, hazy and unfocused.

“Am I dead?”

His voice was a rasp, rough and broken, like gravel scraping against metal. It sent a shiver racing down your spine, an involuntary reaction to hearing it at all. Because for a terrifying moment, you thought you never would again.

Still, the laugh that tumbled from your lips was more relieved than anything else. “No. But you were trying really hard to get there.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his battered face. He moved sluggishly, turning his head toward you, eyes struggling to focus as he took you in. The sight of him awake, coherent, was almost enough to bring you to your knees.

Almost.

“If you had,” you murmured, arching a brow as you gestured around the small, dimly lit room, “would this be your heaven?”

It was a joke, mostly. A feeble attempt to lighten the moment, though the humor didn’t quite reach your voice. The old house was barely livable, the bare minimum of furniture thrown together in a desperate attempt at a safe house. It lacked warmth. It lacked everything, really.

Bucky exhaled sharply, something caught between a laugh and a scoff. “You think I’m going to heaven?”

That laugh. Short. Self-deprecating. Dripping with irony. You hated it.

“You don’t?” you challenged, gaze unwavering. “You must’ve earned a place after all that suffering.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The word slipped from his lips so easily, like breathing, but it knocked the air right out of your lungs. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to react, but it was useless. Especially when you realized he was still staring at you. Taking you in. Seeing the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin, the dried blood smeared across your hands and clothes—his blood. The worry written into every crease of your expression.

You felt exposed. Raw.

“You... been sitting there this whole time?”

You hesitated. You could lie. Maybe you should. You could brush it off, say you had just been checking in on him, nothing more… Instead, you settled for the truth.

“Yeah.”

Bucky exhaled heavily, his head falling back against the pillow, but his gaze never left you. Something flickered in his eyes, something unreadable, but you felt it all the same.

After a moment, his lips quirked slightly. “Didn’t know I rated that kind of devotion.”

Your breath hitched. If he noticed, he had the decency not to comment on it.

“I never saw you like that before,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You were bleeding all over the place, Bucky. You’re… you’re my super soldier. My Terminator. You’re supposed to be invincible.”

The joke melted into something softer, something vulnerable. You dropped your gaze, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes. You couldn’t let him see. Couldn’t let him know just how close you had come to breaking.

“You could’ve at least taken a shower.”

He meant it as a distraction, but it only served as a reminder. The truth was—you hadn’t wanted to leave. Not even for a second. But admitting that? Dangerous territory.

“I couldn’t,” you muttered instead, shaking your head. “I had to make sure...”

Bucky hummed low in his throat, the weight of his gaze pressing against the side of your face. Then, with a sigh, he reached out—slow, careful, testing the limits of his body—and let his fingers ghost over your wrist. Barely a touch, but it sent your pulse into a tailspin.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words rough, real.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah, well... just try not to do it again, alright?”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he studied you for a long moment, then sighed. “You look exhausted. Should’ve told me to move over.”

The thought of sharing a bed with him—this small, intimate space—had you reeling. “The, uh, couch is too small. And you needed the rest.”

His eyes drifted over you, lingering. “And you didn’t?”

Desperate for some normalcy, you let out a small huff, adopting a teasing tone. “I don’t need as much beauty sleep as you, Barnes.”

That earned you a tired chuckle. “So that’s how it is, huh?”

“Yup. You were looking a little rough before all the blood loss. Thought I’d do you a favor and let you rest.”

Bucky groaned. “Damn. Knew you were brutal, but this?”

“Hey,” you grinned, squeezing his thigh lightly, “if you can keep up, that means you’re feeling better.”

Bucky let out a breath, and for a moment, something warm flickered behind his exhaustion. “Guess I must be.”

Silence stretched between you, heavier this time, something unspoken weaving through it. You allowed yourself to lean against the cold metal of his vibranium arm, savoring the quiet until he shifted, groaning. Both of you stayed there and you thought he’d fallen back asleep when his groan broke through the quiet. Carefully, Bucky pushed himself upright, wincing slightly as his muscles protested.

“Gonna take a shower,” he mumbled, rubbing a tired hand over his face. 

"Bucky, I don’t think—"

"Not asking, sweetheart," he cut in, already pushing himself to his feet. Wobbling. 

Stubborn son of a bitch.

“Why won’t you listen to me? You always listen to me,” you argued, audibly on edge, rising to your feet to try and make sure you were prepared in case he tumbled over.

“I am covered in blood and I smell,” he grunted, vibranium hand pressing to the bandage you had patched him up with. He was clearly still in pain but too stubborn to admit it. “It’ll make me feel better.”

You rushed forward, steadying him before he could fall over like an idiot. "Jesus. Fine. But keep the door unlocked, okay? In case you—"

"I'm not gonna drown in the shower," he deadpanned.

You gave him a look. "I was gonna say in case you pass out and crack your head open again, but now I’m adding ‘drowning’ to my already very long list of concerns, thank you very much."

Bucky sighed, squeezing your hand before stepping away toward the bathroom. You should have looked away when he peeled his blood-streaked shirt over his head, revealing bruised skin beneath. But you didn’t.

And when he glanced back at you, a tired smirk still playing at his lips, you knew he had caught you staring.

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. He was alive. Battered, broken, but alive.

The weight of the past few hours pressed heavily against your chest, like a vice squeezing the air from your lungs. Your hands still trembled faintly, a phantom reminder of how close you had come to losing him. You told yourself you should move, should get some rest, but you couldn't. The exhaustion sat on your shoulders, thick and suffocating, but it couldn't compare to the quiet, gnawing fear that still hadn't fully released its grip on you.

What if he hadn’t woken up? What if his breathing had slowed, softened, and you hadn't noticed until it was too late? What if, even now, you had missed something—some unseen wound, some deeper injury lurking beneath the surface?

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably. He had survived this time. But the next?

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to clear the sting in your eyes. No, not now. Later—when he was truly safe, when you weren’t holding yourself together with nothing but sheer stubbornness and the desperate need to keep him breathing.

Then you heard it.

A muffled groan.

Maybe a pained grunt.

Then— your name.

Your stomach flipped. Fear, sharp and immediate, sank its claws into you, coiling tight around your ribs.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you moved.

The door swung open—

And you froze.

Steam curled around the small bathroom, thick and humid, clinging to your skin. The weak spray of the shower rained down on him, rivulets of water streaming down his battered body. His head was bowed, one hand braced against the tiled wall, his broad back rising and falling with every breath.

Bucky was naked.

Completely, gloriously naked.

Your pulse stuttered, breath hitching as your gaze trailed over him, helpless to look away. It wasn’t just the powerful cut of his shoulders or the elegant curve of his spine, the way his waist tapered into lean, honed muscle. It wasn’t just the deep bruises shadowing his ribs, the still-healing scrapes and cuts littering his arms and torso, each one a whisper of a battle he’d barely survived.

It was all of him.

The sculpted lines of his abdomen, the way water cascaded over his taut skin, tracing over each dip and ridge like it worshipped him. The sharp cut of his hips, leading down, down—

Oh. Oh.

Heat licked up your throat so fast you almost choked on it.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

Blue eyes locked onto yours—heavy-lidded, exhausted, but aware. A single droplet of water trailed from his collarbone, slipping down his chest, following the defined ridges of his stomach before disappearing.

Your brain bluescreened.

You forgot how to function. Forgot how to breathe. Forgot everything but the way he stood there, utterly unbothered by his own nakedness, watching you with quiet, unspoken curiosity.

The last thread of your sanity snapped somewhere between the sculpt of his abs and the way his very beautiful, very distracting cock hung between his thighs.

“Doll?” His voice was rough, hoarse from exhaustion, raw with something else, something you couldn't name.

The way it sank into you—deep, warm, consuming—nearly made your knees buckle.

Your throat worked, but words failed. You tried again, this time barely managing to rasp out, “You called?”

A small furrow appeared between his brows. “I didn’t…” he murmured, voice gravelly, confused.

You were so, so done.

You should turn around. Give him privacy. Make some joke, brush it off, leave before this moment became irreversible.

But Bucky didn’t move. He didn’t look away. Didn’t demand you leave.

He just stood there, watching. Waiting.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was softer now, laced with something dangerous. “Is there something you need?”

There was no anger in his expression. No embarrassment, no shock—just quiet patience. Just exhaustion. Just that quiet, quiet thing that had always existed between you, humming beneath the surface, never spoken aloud.

The air between you crackled, electric, charged. The space between the door and the shower stretched impossibly vast. Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out logic, reason, the part of you that still had a chance to walk away.

Instead, you took a step forward.

Bucky didn’t stop you.

Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t tense.

He just watched as you took another slow, deliberate step into the bathroom, your fingers trembling as they reached behind you—

And closed the door.

The quiet click sealed something between you, a silent understanding woven into the steam curling around you both.

You were going to do this.

Your fingers twitched at the hem of your shirt. Slowly, you lifted it.

His gaze dropped.

Tracked the movement, eyes dark and unblinking. Watched as your hands trembled, hesitating for only a fraction of a second—before you dragged the fabric over your head and let it fall to the floor.

The air thickened, heavy, pulsing.

Bucky’s breathing changed, a sharp inhale barely audible over the patter of water. His pupils widened, lips parting slightly. You felt the weight of his stare, dragging over every inch of newly exposed skin as you unbuttoned your pants, sliding them down your legs.

Piece by piece, layer by layer, you joined him until you were bare.

There was no way you were leaving now.

You had crossed a line—an invisible but irreversible threshold, shifting whatever had existed between you and Bucky forever.

You weren’t leaving.

Couldn’t leave.

Not tonight. Not when he was hurting. Not when this had been building for far too long. Not ever.

And as you stepped into the warmth of the water—into him—Bucky exhaled.

The heat of the water curled around your feet, sinking into your skin as you stepped closer. Closer to him. The steam wrapped around you both, thick and humid, clinging to your skin like a second layer. You were painfully aware of how bare you both were, how little there was between you—just air, charged and heavy, laced with hesitation and the weight of unspoken words.

Bucky swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His vibranium hand twitched at his side, the black and gold glistening under the water, fingers flexing as if torn between restraint and impulse. His other arm—still sore from the break but free—hung at his side. He shifted slightly, muscles rippling, making room for you as you moved beneath the steady stream of water.

The moment your bodies brushed, heat flared—electric, searing. His hip grazed yours, slick with water, and you fought the urge to lean into him, to close the meager space that remained. Instead, you tipped your head back, letting the water cascade over you, washing away the remnants of the day—the grime, the blood, the sweat, the panic.

When your eyes reopened, blue locked onto you. But not the sharp, perceptive blue you were used to—this was deeper, darker, laced with something raw and consuming. Something that mirrored everything you had fought to keep buried.

"Is this as nerve-wracking for you as it is for me?"

Your voice barely carried over the steady rush of water, but the confession was out before you could second-guess it—honesty slipping through the cracks of your restraint, as it always did when you were pushed past your comfort zone.

A flicker of hesitation ghosted across his face, fleeting but there. You caught it. Felt it.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice rough, edged with something raw. "You don’t have to—"

"I know."

You stepped forward, letting the water cascade off your shoulders, droplets ricocheting against his chest and streaming down the ridges of his abdomen. Heat radiated from his skin, from the space between you, from the sheer gravity of this moment.

"I want to," you admitted, breath hitching. "I’m just… a little nervous. There’s a lot of you."

A slow, uneven breath left him. His vibranium fingers flexed, tension coiling in his posture, but his gaze dropped, something unreadable flickering behind his storm-colored eyes.

"Not really," he murmured. He lifted his left hand slightly, the metal catching the dim light, gleaming through the mist. A humorless smile ghosted over his lips. "This is all I got right now. Kind of half a man at the moment."

A pang shot through you at the quiet self-deprecation laced in his words. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out, fingertips brushing the smooth, unyielding metal. Another step closed the distance, your chest grazing his, the barest contact sparking something molten, something inevitable.

Your voice was steady when you spoke. "You could never be half of anything."

Bucky inhaled sharply, your words sinking into the spaces he kept guarded. Still, he didn't move. He just stood there, letting you guide his hand to your waist, letting himself feel.

A moment passed. Stretched. Deepened.

Then, rough and uncertain, he confessed, "I’m not sure… how to do this."

The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Do what? Me?"

The tension in his face broke, just for a second—surprise flickering, then amusement. A real, genuine laugh rumbled from his chest, the sound so foreign in the moment that it stole your breath. It was almost impossible to believe this was the same man who had been bleeding beneath your shaking hands only hours ago.

"I don’t think that’s in the cards for us tonight, sweetheart," he said, voice edged with both apology and something else—something almost reverent.

You tilted your head, lips curving. "Thought you'd be more confident than this." Leaning in, you pressed a kiss where metal met flesh, felt the way his breath hitched. You smiled against his skin. "Big, strong super soldier, shying away from a little skin?"

His exhale was sharp, almost a scoff, but it didn’t quite mask the way his grip on your waist tightened—just barely, just enough to betray him, just enough to make your pulse trip.

"Not shying away," he murmured, voice thick against your ear. "Just… don’t wanna mess this up."

You tilted your chin, brushing your lips against the space just below his collarbone, feeling the way his muscles tensed. "And what exactly would ‘messing this up’ look like?"

His jaw clenched, tension rippling through him. "Rushing. Disappointing you… taking more than I should."

His hand flexed at your waist, like he was testing the edges of restraint, feeling out what was safe, what was allowed.

A slow exhale left you as your fingers trailed higher, mapping out the scars, the history written into his skin. "Bucky," you whispered, the warmth of his name wrapping around him. "I never thought… never thought you’d want me like this. I want you to take whatever you want."

His forehead dropped to yours, and for a moment, there was only the steady rush of water, the ragged edge of his breathing. Then, slowly, he pulled back, eyes searching yours, something fragile, unguarded, unraveling in their depths.

A quiet, breathy laugh left him—something between disbelief and surrender. His lips hovered near yours, close enough that his breath warmed your skin.

"Want isn’t quite how I’d put it."

Your breath hitched. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t joking. The depth of his words settled over you, heavy and thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"Then how would you put it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper, fingers threading into his damp hair.

He exhaled, slow and deliberate, his forehead pressing into yours. "I think you already know."

And then his lips brushed yours, tentative, testing. Your body answered before your mind could catch up—arms winding around his neck, pressing closer, heat pooling low in your stomach. The kiss deepened, unhurried, a slow unraveling, a discovery.

Bucky's hand splayed against your spine, mapping the dip of your back, fingers tracing down to your hip, exploring, learning. Every glide of his tongue ignited something deep, every touch sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through you.

You let your hands roam—over the hard planes of his chest, the dips and ridges of his stomach, the firm grasp of his waist. Each touch was a silent question. Every shift of his body, an answer.

"You’re shaking," he murmured against your lips, voice thick. "Still nervous?"

"A little," you admitted, breathless, cheeks flushed with heat. "I want… I want this so much."

His mouth curled, the faintest smile, almost apologetic. "I’m sorry I can’t give it to you."

"It’s alright, I—"

You surged up on your toes, kissed him harder, pouring every ounce of want into the press of your lips. A small, needy sound escaped you as his hand tightened at your waist. When you pulled away, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, and he exhaled sharply, his body rutting forward—instinctive, aching, desperate.

Your bare stomach brushed against him, and your breath hitched. "God, okay—can I touch you?" Your fingers curled at his waist, pressing, feeling the tremor in his muscles. "I want to make you feel good."

Bucky's breath stuttered, his hand tightening just enough to send a shiver racing through you. His forehead pressed to yours, a war waging behind his eyes.

Then, voice low and wrecked, he whispered, "Sweetheart… you already do."

Your fingers traced lower, over the taut muscles of his abdomen, feeling the way he tensed beneath your touch, like he was trying to hold himself together. His breath was ragged, unsteady, and when you let your nails graze lightly over his skin, a low, shuddering sound rumbled in his chest.

"Bucky," your voice was a whisper, sweet and coaxing, threading through the steam like a promise. "Will you let me touch you?"

His jaw tensed, head dipping forward as though the weight of restraint was too much to bear. "You don’t—"

"Please." Your fingers trailed lower, teasing, testing, watching the way his muscles twitched beneath your touch. "I want this. I want you."

A sharp inhale, his control fraying at the edges. Then—he gave in.

Not all at once. He unraveled in pieces, like a taut thread snapping one fiber at a time. His body melted under your hands, surrendering inch by inch. His vibranium fingers flexed at your waist before falling away entirely, like he couldn’t trust himself to touch, to take. But you saw it—the way his pupils blew wide, the way his lips parted around a strangled breath as your fingers wrapped around his length.

"Jesus," he rasped, head knocking back against the tile.

You bit your lip at the sight of him—chest heaving, muscles taut, his restraint hanging by a thread. Slowly, deliberately, you tightened your grip, savoring the way a groan tore from his throat, raw and unguarded. You stroked, slow and deliberate, thumb teasing the slick head of him before your fingers curled, picking up the pace.

"Is this okay?" Your voice was breathless, uncertain for the first time.

His answer was immediate—a sharp nod, his hand covering yours for the briefest second, grounding himself before letting go again. "Yeah, sweetheart. Yeah, just—"

A strangled noise broke from him when you abandoned his length in favor of the heavy weight of his balls, rolling them in your palm, feeling the heat, the way his hips twitched into your touch like he couldn’t help it.

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to drop to your knees and taste him, make him fall apart in a way that would leave him wrecked for anything else. You wanted him to snap, to pin you against the wall and take you, bury himself so deep you forgot your own name.

You wanted, wanted, wanted.

It was all you could think about.

"Fuck," he choked out, vibranium fingers digging into the slick tile, his flesh hand flexing like he wanted to grab you but didn't trust himself to. "You're—"

"Good?" you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw, smiling against his skin when he trembled.

"Perfect," he groaned, voice wrecked.

Encouraged, you found your rhythm again—slow, deliberate, teasing your thumb over his sensitive head, drinking in the way his chest heaved. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in tandem with each measured stroke, and his head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut. Water streamed down his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat rolling off him, the way his body shook beneath your touch.

"You always this quiet?" you murmured, pressing your lips to the hollow of his throat.

A breathless laugh, broken at the edges. "Tryin’ not to lose my mind here, sweetheart."

"Maybe I want you to," you whispered, tightening your grip and twisting just enough to make him curse under his breath.

His hips bucked into your hand, desperation bleeding into every ragged exhale, every twitch of his muscles. He was unraveling, piece by piece, falling apart in your hands, and God, it was intoxicating.

"I think I could come just from watching you," the confession tumbled from your lips, unfiltered, the pulsing ache between your thighs intensifying. "You’re beautiful."

A guttural noise, raw and wrecked. "Fuck, you’re killing me." His forehead pressed against yours, the last fraying strands of control slipping from his grasp. "I—shit, I’m not gonna last."

Pleasure curled hot in your belly. He was holding on by a thread, and you wanted to be the one to pull him under.

"Don’t," you urged, pressing closer, stroking him faster, feeling the way his muscles locked beneath your touch. "Don’t hold back, Bucky. Let me see you."

His breath hitched. His jaw locked. And then—

He let go.

A shuddering moan, unrestrained and devastatingly raw, tore from his lips as he spilled into your hand. His body jerked, muscles seizing, fingers digging into the tile like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. You felt the tremor in his limbs, the sharp, broken breaths leaving him, his forehead still pressed against yours like he needed the anchor.

You stayed close, pressing soft, lingering kisses along his jaw, his cheek, his temple, until the tension bled from his body, until his breathing evened out.

A low, breathless laugh rumbled through him, rough around the edges. "Jesus. You’re dangerous."

You grinned against his skin, feeling the way his chest still rose and fell unevenly beneath you, the tremor of aftershocks still running through his muscles. His vibranium arm curled around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against the heat of his still-thrumming body.

"Not dangerous," you murmured, brushing your lips against the sharp line of his jaw, lingering at the corner of his mouth. "Just very, very into you. And willing to wait."

Bucky exhaled, still catching his breath, still holding you like you were the only thing keeping him upright. But this time, it wasn’t because of his injuries. It was because you had unraveled him, completely and utterly, in a way no one else ever had.

His fingers flexed at your hip, gripping you like he was still making sense of the way you fit against him. "Sweetheart," he muttered, voice low and rough, "whatever patience you got? You might need it for me."

You smiled, threading your fingers through his damp hair, pressing your lips to his in something soft, something promising.

"Can’t wait."

His arm curled more firmly around you, holding you against his chest, warm and steady. Your hand traced down his bruised arm, gentle over the battered skin. He tensed slightly beneath your touch, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you hold him, let you feel the weight of him—whole, breathing, here.

You nuzzled against his chest, pressing a lingering kiss over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your lips. "You scared me today," you admitted, barely above a whisper. You tightened your grip around him, clinging to the solid warmth of his body, trying to ignore the heat of desire curling low in your stomach, giving way to something even stronger. Something scarier. "Don’t ever do that again. I mean it, Buck, I—"

"I know." His voice was softer now, his lips pressing into your hair. "I could see it. In your eyes, you were—"

"Yeah." You swallowed hard. "I was."

Silence settled between you, thick with everything you weren’t saying. The air still hummed with the remnants of adrenaline, of tension, of the quiet fear that had lodged itself in your ribs the moment you saw him bleeding, barely standing, on the edge of collapse.

Bucky shifted, just slightly, his vibranium hand pressing against the small of your back, keeping you close. Then, quietly, deliberately, he murmured, "I need you to know something, doll."

The seriousness in his voice sent your heart skipping. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. "What is it?"

For a moment, he hesitated—like he was choosing his words carefully, like he was about to step over some invisible line he could never uncross. His thumb brushed over your jaw, a touch so tender it made your breath catch.

"This isn’t just tonight," he said, voice steady despite the rawness in it. "It’s not just the adrenaline or the heat of the moment. It’s not even just because you saved my ass back there." He exhaled, his forehead briefly pressing against yours before pulling back, searching your eyes. "It’s you. It’s been you for a while now."

Your breath hitched.

Bucky’s hand trailed up, fingers ghosting over your cheek, tracing the curve of your face like he was committing every inch of you to memory. "I don’t always know how to say the right thing," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Or how to be good at this. But I know that I want you. Not just here. Not just now. I want all of it. All of you. If you’ll have me."

A sharp, aching warmth bloomed in your chest. He was laying himself bare, in a way you knew wasn’t easy for him. No bravado, no deflection—just truth.

A slow, shaky smile tugged at your lips as you lifted a hand to his face, your thumb skimming along his stubbled jaw.

"Bucky Barnes, you are the most ridiculous man I have ever met."

His brows furrowed, lips parting—until you leaned in and kissed him. Slow, deep, like he was something precious. Something worth holding onto.

When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead to his, your fingers still tangled in his damp hair.

"I’m not going anywhere," you murmured, voice thick with emotion. "Not tonight. Not ever."

A breath shuddered out of him, and then his arms were wrapping around you—tightly, fiercely, like he could somehow pull you into him completely.

"Good," he whispered against your skin. "Because I think I’d go crazy if you did."

You smiled against his collarbone, letting yourself melt into him, into the warmth of his body, into the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat.

Bucky was safe. He was healing.

And now, finally—he was yours.

[mortalityfixer]

my experience with roiz .

( as best i can remember )

warning for lesbiphobia , ableism , manipulation , transphobia ( ? ) , grooming / sexual harassment , potential faking of physical disorders , mental health struggles / episodes .

i first met roiz a few years back ! we didn’t really talk much , until later on that year . he became more active in my server due to our mutual interest in " melliot " musicals . he seemed nice at first . maybe a little off sometimes , but nice . though this quickly changed and i grew uncomfortable . i didn’t speak up at this time — due to fear of losing someone i had grown to borderline depend on in such a short timeframe . let it be known that i am not trying to one - up anybody else ; this is purely my experience with him . nor do i feel as though my experience was worse than the victims of his sexual grooming : it wasn’t . my heart goes to each and every one of his victims .

one of the main things that sticks out to me is the way roiz would treat me regarding my identity . he seemed to view me as a cisgender lesbian ? which confused me , as i am very much not . he would also constantly make lesbiphobic jokes towards me, such as putting lesbians on his official introduction post as a ' joke ' targeted at me . this was almost neverending and made me feel incredibly invalid and insecure in my identity and who i was as a person . i started to feel like i would never be more than the " token lesbian friend " to people due to the way he would act around me whenever i mentioned my orientation , and this eventually led to a horrible mental health spiral where i truly didn’t know who i was anymore , or if i was worthy of being known as anything other than ' the lesbian friend . ' he would also only ever address me using feminine terms , when i have always been open about using all terms . i wouldn’t mind feminine terms sometimes ! but it wasn’t sometimes , as he would never use any other form .

another thing that i remember about our friendship was the way he would treat me as a disabled person . to add context to this , i have a medically recognised joint disorder which causes mobility issues alongside other things . he would make comments such as " blud can’t run " unprovoked . he did this whilst we were referencing adamandi characters ; none of which have mobility issues . additionally , he would claim to have the same issues as me shortly after i talked about them — prior to me discussing them , he had never mentioned any form of physical disability . i won’t go into any more detail about this specific aspect of our friendship , as there’s not much else to state , as well as my own struggles remembering the situation .

most importantly of all : roiz was my friend whilst engaging in inappropriate sexual contact with an eleven year old . i never picked up on it despite it being extremely clear looking back , and i would have never befriended him had i known he was doing this ; i was manipulated into believing otherwise . roiz also claimed that this person had ' abandoned him ' after they temporarily broke contact , evoking a feeling of sympathy from me towards roiz that i really shouldn’t have felt at all . however , i did notice that he would initiate sexual or otherwise inappropriate conversations in a public server with exclusively minors . it later came out that the one on the receiving end of these conversations was , in fact , an eleven year old boy being groomed by roiz . this eleven year old was — as you may have figured out already — my good friend over at @\haowenyang , who also has a post about the situation . i recommend reading it as he is the true victim here , not me . you can find that post here .

that just about sums up my experience with this vile , sickening person . once again , i am not trying to claim that my situation was worse than those he sexually harassed and / or groomed . i do however feel it is important to get it out there . this may not be entirely accurate and there may be some gaps , as my memories of my friendship with roiz have become fuzzy and unclear . but i felt it was important to share either way . thank you for taking the time to read this .

[plumppies]

Friends no More

 Jadon Sancho

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Mention of sex. Reader has curly hair

Drea's note: I miss my man lol. Enjoy

You and Jadon were close for a very long time. You have known each other since you were both children. With him only being a year older than you, were inseparable.

You were always at his Watford games, birthday parties and even family gatherings and as the two of you grew up and hit your teen years, your parents would joke about you and him finally making it official as a couple. You brushed it off in fear of ruining your friendship for something that had the possibility of not working out.

You were best friends. Always there for each other when you needed it the most, whether it was spamming each other’sphones with the dumbest text messages and memes or even if it was to cry to one another about a bad day or game.

That’s how it was, and nothing would change that, right?

Well, no, because before you even turned sixteen, Jadon had upped and left for Germany to further pursue his football career. You were happy for him and he was happy too, but loneliness struck both of you as soon as he left for Dortmund. You no longer had someone to talk to about literally anything. You no longer had the chance to spend time with him and even if you got to FaceTime and call him, the calls were short.

It came as no surprise to you when you stopped calling each other. You only casually spoke via text. It was like you lost your best friend, but you know that wasn’t true. His mom would check up on you and tell you that Jadon spoke about you ever so often.

But why didn’t he check up on you himself?

You usually asked yourself this question but then brushed it off as well.

The news of his transfer back to England caught you unexpectedly. You always heard rumours spreading about it and never brought it up with Jadon in fear of pestering him but when it was finalised, you were quick to give him a call.

“You went through with it?” You smile at the camera, and he smiles back.

“Yeah. I missed home,” he looks at you and then continues, “You stay in Manchester, right? For uni?”

“Why?” You sing and giggle when he rolls his eyes at you.

“Because I’m gonna need a place to stay before getting my apartment in order, so-”

“So you want to crash with me?” you cut him off and squeal.

“Yes, just for two weeks,” he releases a belly laugh.

“It’s more of a studio apartment, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch,” you raise your brows and giggle, but he only shrugs, assuring you that he’s okay with that.

Soon enough, he was back in England. Your families planned a welcome home party for him. Unfortunately, you couldn’tmake it due to work, but you’d see him that night at your place. You’d given your mother your spare keys to give to him at the party so he wouldn’t have to wait long for you to knock off from work.

It’s about ten PM when you finally reach your apartment. Your living room light is on which indicates that Jadon is there and still awake.

Your stomach flips as you take a deep breath in and out. You hadn’t seen him in person for more than two years, and now, here you are about to see him. You muster up the strength to walk to the front door, unlock it and open it before walking in and finding Jadon sitting on your couch watching highlights of a United game a few seasons back.

“Jadon,” you whisper, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he turns, stands up and walks to you, ready to help you out of your coat, but before he can, you hug him, burying your teary face in his chest.

He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you, too. His heart skips many beats. It’s not said, but he missed you so much. He’s missed his best friend so much, and now you’re reunited.

It feels like a dream to both of you. Maybe it’s because you’re both tired, having just arrived in England a few hours ago. You’re sure jet lag has caught up to him, and you just finished off a hard day at work.

But this is real.

He’s here.

You let go of him and smile, wiping away a few stray tears before he finally gets you out of your coat and motions for you to sit.

“How are you?” he grins, “Jeez, you look different.”

“I’m good, overwhelmed but good.” you chuckle, “and what’s that last thing you said supposed to mean?” you slap his shoulder playfully.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, y/n, so you look different. You look Pretty.”

You feel your cheeks increasing in temperature. You look away, and he catches on to what he'd said.

“I said that out loud huh? Sorry,” he tries pushing it away but clearly, it’s too late.

“So are you sure you’re okay with sleeping on the couch? You think you’ll survive for a whole two weeks on that thing?” you quickly change the subject and point to your white couch.

It’s not that small, but seeing how muscular he’s become, he might struggle to stay on it in his sleep.

“Yeah, I don’t. Plus I know you can cook so I won’t have to eat hotel food,” he tilts his head and you laugh and then yawn.

“You should prepare for bed. You seem tired.”

You nod and walk to your bedroom before returning with bed covers to make Jadon’s couch experience as comfortable as possible.

You wake the next morning to the sound of something frying up in the kitchen. You rub your eyes and head towards the noise to find Jadon flipping pieces of bacon.

“I thought you wanted me to cook for you.” you giggle, catching his attention.

“Morning to you too, and I thought it would be a nice way to say thanks for letting me stay here,” he smiles, placing a few pieces of bacon on separate plates with eggs and two slices of toast.

“That’s very sweet, J.”

He smiles and averts eye contact. You take a seat by your round dining table and dig in.

For the next few days, Jadon does the same thing every morning. You wake up to something cooking, and you eat it with him before you go to work or your university classes.

He’s missed you more than he thought, and a part of him tells him there is something else to this feeling. It’s been a week seeing you already, but he feels he’s missing something. He’s with you, spent the entire week with you, but feels he’s far from you.

Jadon stands in your bathroom, staring at his barely awake figure in the large mirror that hovers above your basin. You weren’t home since you left a few hours before he woke up.

The last thing you heard that morning in your apartment was his muffled snoring from him lying on his belly. His toned, honey-brown back was exposed from the bedsheet, only covering his lower half. You ran your eyes to his bent arms, which he used as extra leverage for his pillow. They’re painted in black and colourful ink that attractively accentuates his buff arms. He breathes deeply, which only pops his back curves and dips even more. You were tempted to touch on one of the triceps but chose otherwise.

You can’t lie that he looks extremely alluring in that position, with the morning sun rays painting themselves onto his flawless skin. You lowered your gaze to where the cream bedsheet began covering his lower half, stared at the scrunched-up material and sighed. Is it weird that you were doing that? So much time has passed since you had seen him. You are both young adults now, and you know that the dynamics of your relationship could have changed. The question is, do you want it to change, or do you want to stay as platonic friends forever?

As you sit in your little office at work, that question runs through your mind. To your unknowing, Jadon has the same thought. You both knew that dating your best friend could be risky. It’s like an irreversible experiment; once you start the reaction, there is no going back whether the experience goes well or not. You know well enough that there’s a higher chance that jumping into those waters could destroy the relationship you’d built with each other.

But would you rather live the rest of your life knowing that you didn’t try it out?

You shake your head and focus on your work, trying your best to not think about your love life at all for the rest of the day.

Soon enough, you finally get off of work and head home. Your feet hurt and all you want is to soak in your tub, eat and pass out on the comfortable fabric of your bed. As you head into your apartment you kick off your heels and find Jadon sitting on the couch snacking on a packet of dry fruits with his phone in one hand.

“I’m home,” you speak, catching his attention. Your heart flips when he only hums in response and shifts to give you space on the couch as you throw yourself on it.

“How was your day at work?” He asks with his eyes still glued on his phone screen. You huff and respond honestly.

“It was exhausting. Hated every second of it except when I went for lunch,” he chuckles and looks at you now, “How was yours?” you ask, but he does not respond, instead he stares at you with his perfect brows pressed together and his mouth straightened.

The room falls silent and tense for what seems like an eternity. You look away, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you fiddle with the hem of your dress shirt.

“Listen, y/n, I’ve been thinking about something for some time now and- and I don’t want this to hurt our friendship,” he rubs his temple, “I don’t know if I should tell you but I know that if I don’t, it will eat me alive for the rest of my life and I can’t have that; especially when I start playing again.”

You turn your entire body to face him as he balls both hands into fists and squeezes. It’s a habit he’s had since he was a child, a way for him to deal with his nerves, but why is he nervous?

“I haven’t seen you in so long and even now that we’re with each other I still feel like I’m missing something. Missing you.”

He relaxes his hands, resting them on his side as he continues to pour out his soul to you.

“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly confused.

“What I’m trying to say is…is that I have- feelings for you, sweetheart.”

That nickname. Oh, how you loved it when he called you that. At first, he only called you that to tease you, but it soon stuck to you as he kept using it. Now, it appears it may have a deeper meaning.

Your eyes widen, and your cheeks heat up. Did he just say that?

“Are you serious?” you whisper, afraid your words will fail you if you speak any louder.

“Yes, yes, I am. y/n. I care about you, and I love you, but I think my love for you is changing into something different. Something romantic, and I-”

His words are cut and a rough, throaty grunt escapes his pink lips when you leap in to wrap your arms around his neck for a hug while you straddle him. He slowly wraps his arms around your middle and places his head on the crock of your neck, closes his eyes, enjoying the embrace.

You stay like that for what seems like forever. None of you speak but the question still lingers above Jadon’s head, do you feel the same way?

He can’t take more of the silence so he breaks it still holding you like he’ll never hold you again.

“Y/n, do you feel the same way?” his voice comes out shaky and staggered.

“Of course I do, Jadon,” you let go of him and cup his warm, soft face, looking at him straight in the eyes.

Because his arms are still circled your waist your faces are only a few millimetres away from each other. Your warm breath bushes his face and his does yours but you don’t mind. You’re too caught up in the moment to realise that one of his hands rests on your neck and pulls you in for a sweet and short kiss. You sigh as your lips separate for a second before they intertwine again in a longer, more passionate kiss.

Your arms circle his neck again, and he pulls you closer to him so that your chest is now pressed to his. Your tongues compete for dominance, but you finally come to a steady rhythm. Soft moans are exchanged, and he grips you tighter than before, causing a warm and fuzzy feeling to spill across your insides.

At the end of that night, he’s no longer sleeping on the couch. Your naked bodies intertwine in your now messy bed. A soft shine of sweat covers you both as a reminder of the passion you had shared. As you catch your breath, Jadon turns to his side to look at you with a soft smile, a smile you would soon realise only you could provoke him to show.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way," Jadon breathes, kissing the top of your head before playing with your curls.

You smile and sigh, enjoying the newfound closeness you’d share.

“Let’s not tell our families about this, please? I don’t need them calling me Mrs Sancho right now.” You speak softly, and he chuckles.

“I wouldn’t mind them calling you that at all.” He shrugs, bringing you on top of him to cuddle. “Now sleep, I’ve kept you up long enough.”

[eleganzadellarosa]

Melted

pairing: olderbrothersbestfriend!chan x needy fem! reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: MDNI (I'm sorry if this changes the way you see ice cream, pwp I guess, fast paced plot, unprotected sex (don’t 👀), big dick Chan (because what else would he be?), overstim, squirting, hair pulling, choking, creampie, Chan calls reader Baby, reader calls him Channie)

word count: 5.82K

A/N: Just because my mind has been on Chan A LOT lately. Also…this isn’t proofread 😬

Why would you like someone that ruffles your hair, tickles your sides and calls you “baby” as a nickname? Sounds childish right? Not to you when it comes to your huge crush on Chan. You know that’s just how he is with you and has been since you were younger, but you wish it meant something different to him.

Chan is best friends with your older brother, he’s basically been a part of your family for over 10 years. You’ve always liked Chan, but not in that way until your crush developed right before he moved. His family moved away for a while during his late teen years so you hadn’t seen him in quite some time. Then he suddenly came back and he was like a whole new person. His personality didn’t change, no, the way he looked did and you haven’t been able to keep your eyes off of him since.

He and your brother are 25 and you’re stuck being 23. It wasn’t a big enough gap to make anyone bat an eye, but you knew he always viewed you as his best friend’s little sister and you weren’t sure how to make that change. You watched as he pulled up in front of your house, picking up your brother like usual. They spent so much time together, you were almost past the point of jealousy and wanted to hate your brother for taking him away every time.

You stood in the open garage, watching him hop out the driver’s seat. He smiled and waved when he saw you and did a little jog onto the sidewalk and into the garage. Maybe things didn’t need to change and you needed to find someone else to crush on, but it was so hard when he would open his arms for you to hug him and would squeeze you tight until you couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Hey baby, missed you. How ya been?”

Baby. You would never get over that nickname. It gave you that warm fuzzy feeling but also gave you that second heartbeat.

“Hey Channie, you know same old same old. Where have you been all week?” You knew where he’d been but you’d do anything to have a longer conversation with him before your brother snatched him away.

“I went to go visit my family, they told me to tell you hi.” He smiled and you smiled back knowing how much his family loved you, which oddly enough made you like him more. “I got you somethin’, close your eyes.”

You obliged, closing your eyes waiting almost impatiently to see what he had for you. Not being able to see him in front of you but feeling his presence made a light blush fall on your cheeks. You felt his fingertips graze the skin on your hand and the sudden contact made you jump slightly. He carefully opened your hand and you felt the cold contrast of something against your palm.

“Open your eyes.”

You looked down to see a dainty anklet with small charms dangling from it. Your eyes lit up seeing each charm perfectly handpicked with things he knew you’d like. It was gorgeous and on closer inspection, it looked expensive. You didn’t care how much it cost, only worrying that he spent too much of his money on you, but loving that he got you a gift at all.

“Baby, do you like it?” He made dangerous eye contact waiting for you to reply. It didn’t help you gather your thoughts any quicker even though you had your answer already. He made your nervous system short circuit.

“Y-yeah Channie, I love it!” You smiled as much as you could to cover the way you swallowed thickly seeing him stand so close to you.

“Really? Oh gosh I’m glad, I thought I chose something you wouldn’t like.” He had to be lying. He could pick a leaf off a tree and you’d be jumping for joy. “Here lemme see, I’ll put it on for you.”

You gasped when he lifted you up to seat you on your dad’s workbench that sat at the back of the garage. The heat seeping in from outside was hot enough, but now you were sure you could break a thermometer. He kneeled down and wrapped the cold jewelry around your ankle. You were unconsciously holding your breath, scared of having any reaction because if you let go, you’d probably moan and you’d rather not make this awkward.

He looked up at you with your foot still in his hand, “It looks great baby, I like it.” God that comment had you slippery wet. He liked it on you? Now you’d never take it off. “Make sure you think of me every time you look at it.” He shot you a wink and your breath got caught in your throat preventing you from swallowing.

This conversation would be stored for fuel whenever you needed something to tip you over the edge at night. You almost said something equally seductive back, almost, when your brother came and took Chan away. You were used to it by now, never really having more than 10 minutes tops of alone time with him. It was frustrating, having to get most of your information from your brother who always reluctantly told you, asking “why do you wanna know anyways?”

You think Chan would tell you no hesitation if you actually had the chance to speak with him. But truth be told, you’d never be able to do such a thing with your brother around. He made it clear on multiple occasions that he didn’t approve of a relationship between you two if it ever came to be, but all three of you knew that would never be brought into existence.

You sat in the same spot on the tool bench, swinging your foot to see the charms sparkle in the small rays of sunshine. Chan said to think about him every time you looked at it, so you did. The thought of you on your knees in front of him, him slipping his thumb past your lips telling you to suck if you wanted to be rewarded. The ideas that ran freely were filthy and getting worse by the second. Your thighs rubbed together tightly as you felt yourself grow wetter with each passing thought.

The sun shined brightly through the small gaps between your blinds, easing you awake with its warmth. The weekends were the best because it was almost guaranteed that you’d get to have breakfast with Chan. It was an unspoken tradition and you marked it off in your mental calendar. You quickly washed your face before heading downstairs to the kitchen, only to see it completely empty besides the few duffle bags that sat beside the island.

“Where are you going?” You asked your brother who walked in at the perfect time before you could stump yourself with more unanswered questions.

“Didn’t mom tell you? I’m going to stay at a beach house with a few friends for the weekend.” He stuffed a few more things in his bag, talking with his back facing you.

“No…is Chan going too?” You asked carefully trying to make it seem like a normal question.

He rolled his eyes and leaned up against the marble island. “Next time you need to just start asking Chan these questions since you always wanna know everything about him. And no, he’s not coming.”

“Really?” A smile spread across your face but you quickly wiped it away when you saw your brother narrow his eyes.

“Don’t go bothering him while I’m away, he’s doesn’t wanna hang with you at all so just stay home!”

“You’re such an asshole, he never said that!”

“You don’t know what he said because you’re not his best friend! Just don’t bother him okay?” He sucked his teeth as he picked up his bags and walked out the door, kicking it closed with his foot.

He didn’t know what he was talking about. Chan wouldn’t say that, he would love to hang out with you. Right? You felt like a teenager crushing on a college boy that was far out of your league for multiple reasons but you swore you had a chance.

You sulkily walked upstairs back to your room and flopped on your bed. Being that your brother didn’t want you to bother Chan, it made you more curious as to what he could be doing right now. It sucks that you didn’t have his number or really any way to contact him. Well you did, you were just too scared to actually do it.

It was nothing but a 10 minute walk and 2 minute drive to get to his house but in the back of your mind, you were scared he actually wouldn’t want to see you. What would you say; what would be your reasoning for coming to see him?

“I have a crush on you and I want to be around you, please let me in?”

Like hell that would work. He’d probably slam the door in your face, call your brother and tell him how annoying and stupid his little-

There was a ring at your doorbell.

Your head snapped to your left, slightly shocked you had any visitors. It could easily be your neighbor since she always seemed to pop up randomly. “I got it!” You yelled out, jogging down the stairs. You looked out the peephole to see Chan standing there. Your heart started racing and you quickly looked over your appearance before opening the door.

“Channie?! What are you doing here?”

“Aww baby you aren’t happy to see me?” A cute little pout painted his face and you wanted to drag him in and kiss him all over.

“What? No, of course I am! My brother’s not here and I thought you knew…”

“Oh yeah I knew, I came to see you.”

He said it so nonchalantly as if it was normal to come see you. As if you both agreed to hang out today. Or as if you always hung out when your brother wasn’t around. He had to know what this was doing to you, there was no way he didn’t. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn’t find the strength to let the words come forward.

“I figured you’d be here all by yourself, so I thought I’d come pick you up.” He smiled brightly and there were those cute dimples. God you felt like you were gonna explode.

“I…umm…” you were stuttering and if he didn’t stop staring at you, you were going to be stuck like this.

He looked a bit sad and disappointed but waited to see what you would say. “It’s okay if you don’t want to Baby. I should’ve asked first, I’m so sorry.”

You quickly reached out to touch his arm and practically melted into a puddle, “No no Channie, I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out with me. I’d love to go to your house, especially since I’ve never seen this one.”

He smiled again, “Of course I would Baby, you’re my best friend! Now come on, hop in”

Oh how this was never something you thought would happen in a million years. You were Chan’s best friend? As much as you wanted this, there must have been some kind of mistake. Surely he didn’t actually think so.

He grabbed your hand and lead you to his jeep and opened your door for you. “Thank you Channie” barely left your lips before he reached inside and buckled your seatbelt, smiling at you before he closed your door. Your body was on fire; ignited from the soft and simple touches. You were down bad, there was no better way to put it. If he kept moving like this, you’d have to go home and deal with the problem between your legs.

His house was nice, nothing too big or small, just right for him. He had a great sense of decor and he kept his place sparkling clean. Scattered about on different pieces of furniture were photos of him, family and even younger pictures of the 3 of you.

“Baby, make yourself at home, you can sit anywhere you’d like.” He spoke to you from the little pass through window in the kitchen.

You nodded your head but decided to explore his living room some more. When you walked past the patio door, you noticed a reflection on the ground outside.

“Oh my gosh Channie, you have a pool?! Why didn’t my brother tell me?”

He walked over to you with a large red double popsicle and chuckled at the amused look on your face. “I’m gonna punch him when I see him, I told him to tell you because I know how much you love swimming. We can go out there if you want.”

He broke the popsicle in two and handed you a half. “I would love to…but I don’t have a bikini with me.”

“Just get in with what you have on.” He leaned against the side of his couch as he sucked on the cold treat.

You looked down at your outfit, a plain white tee and some daisy patterned shorts. “But I won’t have anything to change into. I can walk back home and get something.”

“Orrrrr, you can just wear some of my clothes until yours are dry.”

What was with him saying all this so nonchalantly? When have you ever worn his clothes? The smell must be absolutely amazing, he always smelled so good. If he was offering, you might as well just take it.

“Hmm” you bit your lip and smiled, “okay, but I don’t wanna get in by myself.”

He smiled as he finished off his half of the popsicle and chewed on the stick. He jolted off the side of the couch and pulled his shirt off. You almost choked on the leftover ice you had in your mouth. What the fuck was he thinking?

“Come on Baby, come swim with me.”

He opened the door and ran and jumped in without hesitation. After little to no consideration, you followed behind him, diving right in. The water was a perfect way to cool off in the hot summer sun. He swam over to you, hair drenched and sticking to his forehead. The droplets of water shined against his toned, muscular body. You wanted to lick him dry, no matter how long it took.

His right hand slid over your waist and around to your back, “you look so cute, I could kiss you right now.”

Cute? Kiss? Cute and kiss in the same sentence? Maybe you needed to pinch yourself to wake up from this completely unrealistic dream.

“M-me? I’m just plain and boring.” You mentally pat yourself on the back for not stuttering too much with how close he was and what he just said.

“You’ve never been either baby, no way that’s what you actually think.” His eyebrows raised in shock.

“Well yeah…there’s so many prettier girls than me. I’m just me, but they’re-“

It happened so fast that your mind didn’t process it. He bent down to press his lips to yours and hold you a bit tighter. Your arms were around his neck and you reciprocated the kiss faster than the fear set in. His tongue swiped over your lip and you happily allowed him to explore your mouth.

Somehow being drenched in the pool made it feel more sensual, nothing left to the imagination, bodies practically touching through the thin fabrics. You could feel how hard he was, pressing it right up against your thigh. You bravely touched him through his shorts, earning a small moan from him.

He ran a hand up the back of your thigh and roughly grabbed your ass. It wasn’t until you felt something press into your back that you realized he moved the both of you closer to the edge of the pool. He trailed the kisses over your jaw and to your neck. You were breathing heavily, making no effort to stop the sounds coming from you.

“I wonder how good you’d sound if I fucked you.”

“Channie please, oh fuck.”

Desperate was too innocent of a word to describe how badly you wanted him. You’d do whatever it took to make your dreams come true.

“Would you like that baby? Let me fuck you and make you feel good?”

At this point you were sure you stopped breathing. He looked so good with his wet hair, heavy lids, toned body pressed right against yours. Of course you’d like that.

“Yes Channie, I want it, I want you.”

He slipped your shirt over your head and left open mouthed kisses down your neck and across your chest. Just as he moved to get your nipple in his mouth, a loud ring came from inside the house; it was his phone.

“You should go get that Channie.”

He looked at you, lips parted and breathing heavily. “Fuck, okay I’ll be right back.”

He hopped out the pool and went inside while you tried to put all the pieces together. So Chan liked you? Or he simply just wanted a fuck buddy? Or maybe he just wanted to fuck you because he knows how much you like him and knew you’d be easy? The insecurity began to weigh down on you and now you just wanted to go home.

When he returned, he squatted down next to you, who was now slightly turned away from him with your arms wrapped around yourself in order to seek comfort.

“That was your brother, he said he’s coming home early because someone got food poisoning. So…he asked me to pick him up.” He reached out and touched your shoulder. “Baby, you okay?”

“Yeah Channie, you can just take me home.” You made sure to not let him see the tears brimming your eyes.

“You sure you’re-“

“Yes, I’d like to go home please.”

He watched you for a few seconds longer, definitely able to notice the shift in your mood, he just didn’t know what caused it. “Okay, let me at least get you a change of clothes.”

The ride back home was short and you got out before he could to open your door for you. He shouted something about seeing you later before driving off as you closed your front door behind you. You still didn’t have his number, so him hitting you up later wouldn’t be a thing, unless he was bold enough to ask your brother but you both knew that would open a can of worms you weren’t ready to try and close.

Now you were a bit nervous that he would tell your brother what happened because he wanted to know why you looked so sad. You’d just avoid him as much as you could and hopefully he would forget anything ever happened.

“As much as I don’t want you to, I need you to come with me and Chan so you can help me choose a gift for my girlfriend.” Your brother came into your room, not bothering to knock since your door was already opened slightly.

“I didn’t say you could come in!”

“Oh my god, yes or no?”

“You didn’t ask me anything dumbass and why don’t you already know what your girlfriend likes?”

“I do know but I want to know what’s the best out of the options I have and you’re a girl.”

“Umm…I guess?”

You were conflicted. You wanted to see Chan, you missed him even though it had only been two days since your encounter in the pool. But you also didn’t want to see him right now because you didn’t want to explain anything to him, yet if you said that your brother would for sure know something happened between you two.

“Okay well be ready in like 10 minutes, set a timer or something.”

Chan and your brother greeted each other like always and when he looked over at you, he looked as if he wanted to come hug you. “Hey baby, you coming with us today?”

Your brother rolled his eyes when you let a smile creep past your lips. You were weak for Chan, he knew exactly what to say to make you melt. Maybe you were thinking about it wrong, maybe he really did like you and he actually wanted to be with you. But having it happen so suddenly made you think perhaps you let your guard down too quickly.

You felt like such a third wheel around the two boys, laughing at their inside jokes and not worrying about you following behind them. Well Chan did, he would look back to make sure you were still there and smile at you when you made eye contact. It felt like hours even though but had only been 30 minutes of walking around the mall looking for the perfect gift.

“Girls like jewelry, so get her something she can always wear.” Your brother’s gaze followed yours down to your anklet. Before he could ask you where you got that, Chan spoke up.

“Yeah I told you that the other day man, if you really love her you should get her something that she can keep for a long time but also that you put effort into choosing.” He looked over at you when he said it, hoping you caught on to what he said.

You tried your hardest not to blush, your brother standing way too close for you to even let out a small squeal.

“Yeah that’s what I wanna get her but I’m not sure she’ll wear it, I never see her wearing jewelry.”

“Trust me bro, she’ll love it.” He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and nodded his head.

“I’m gonna go get some ice cream and then head back to the car you guys.” You said waving your hand as you walked away. Your brother nodded as he answered his phone.

“Is it okay if I come with you baby?” Chan ran to catch up with you before you got too far.

“Sure Channie, I’ll pay for you.”

“You’re so funny Baby, I’m paying for the both of us.” As you approached the stand, he turned around grimacing. “Aww baby they’re all out of rocky road.”

After all these years, he still remembers your favorite ice cream flavor. “It’s okay Channie, just get me whatever you get.”

He smiled softly and nodded and ordered two strawberry cheesecake cones. You walked back with him to his car to enjoy yet another frozen treat in his presence. Of course, he opened your door and let you hop in before he did the same.

“Damn it’s already melting…”

“I prefer ice cream when it melts a little. Like when it drips down my fingers. It just tastes better that way…well to me anyway.” You realized you were babbling, so you looked up at him but he was already looking at you.

“You wanna lick mine off my fingers?”

The question alone could have made you cum, but the way he looked at you; eyes slightly hooded, lips parted, that had you throbbing. You couldn’t even answer him. Actually your mind was blank so you didn’t have an answer or any response to what he just said. He saw it on your face though. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. He’s wanted you for a long time and as many hints as he tried throwing your way, you never seemed to catch them.

It became too much for him, your brother always getting in his way of spending alone time with you. He didn’t care what your brother thought about it though. He wanted you and he wanted you bad. So when he eased his hand toward your mouth and you happily let him push a finger past your lips, he knew he didn’t have to try to make you understand anymore; he made that clear when you were in the pool the other day.

“Sorry it’s not your favorite flavor.” He said, removing his finger to replace it with a new one.

“It is now.” Your words were partially cut off by the intrusion of his fingers. You were soaked and your head felt fuzzy, you felt like you were going to die.

You never broke eye contact and he watched you intently. “You can’t look at me like that if you don’t want me to ruin you.”

“Maybe I want you to.” You licked and sucked on his fingers as seductively as you could muster.

He licked his ice cream then shifted more toward you so he could kiss you. The contrast of the cold dessert and the heat from his tongue made you whimper. He slowly let your warmth melt the ice cream and drip down onto your neck and chest. He happily chased the drops with his tongue making sure none of it went to waste.

“Oh god Channie, mmm~”

He caught sight of your brother making his way over to the car so he quickly halted his actions and returned to his seat. “He’s coming, act normal. Deep breaths.”

Well that was surely easier said than done. He just licked the majority of his ice cream off of you, leaving you slightly sticky in multiple places. This was torture, getting so close to what you want only to be cockblocked by your brother once again.

“Yo Chan, is it cool if I stay at your place tonight? My girlfriend might stop by too.”

“Yeah sure, I don’t mind.”

“Okay cool, we can just drop Y/N off.”

You quickly turned, an exaggerated pout on your face, ready to fight your case. “NO FAIR!”

“It’s fine if she stays, I don’t mind.” Chan looked at your brother through the rear view mirror.

“What?! No way, she’s literally just going to bother us the entire time!”

“Fuck you, no I won’t! You always get to hang with Chan by yourself, I can be around him too!”

“Hey! It’s alright, you can sleep in my bed and I can sleep on the couch. I promise it’s fine.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and you stuck your tongue out at him. Maybe you were childish, but you weren’t going to let your day end without at least having another make out session.

You thanked God your brother’s girlfriend came quite late and that she took all his attention off of you and Chan. You all enjoyed some snacks and had movie night. It was nearing almost 2am by the time the movie was over, so your brother took her to the guest room where he was staying for the night.

You stayed up with Chan to help him tidy up even though he insisted he didn’t want you to.

“Is it okay for me to wear another one of your shirts Channie? I didn’t pack anything.”

He looked up from the dishes he just finished, “you don’t have to ask Baby, of course you can.” He gave you a big dimpled smile but then it dropped. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Yeah of course, what’s up?”

“Why were you so sad the other day? You know…in the pool.”

You knew he would ask you eventually so you might as well just tell him now and get it over with. “I don’t know…I just…wasn’t sure how to feel and was hoping you weren’t only doing it to take advantage of me.”

He walked up to you and kissed your forehead. “Oh Baby, I would never do that to you. I love you and I can’t ever say it or do anything about it because your brother’s always around. I’m sorry if I came off so strong but don’t ever think I’d do anything to take advantage of you. I love you, yeah?”

He rubbed his thumb over your hand and tilted his head waiting for you to nod your head. It took a heavy weight off your shoulders to hear him express his true feelings and being that he said it so easily helped you understand how genuine he was being.

“My room is all yours Baby, it’s the last door at the end of the hall. You can wear whatever you want and there’s towels in the closet in the bathroom.”

“Thank you for letting me stay Channie.” You stood on your tip toes and kissed him on the cheek and quickly ran away, leaving him in the kitchen with red ears.

You felt refreshed after your shower and even more comfortable as you slipped into one of his shirts. Since you didn’t bring a change of clothes, his shirt was the only thing covering you and barely so. You hopped into his king sized bed and playfully rolled around, enjoying the big size.

You looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand, it had already been more than an hour since everyone went to bed. You weren’t sleepy though, so you pulled out your phone and scrolled aimlessly on your socials. A soft knock on the door turned your attention towards it.

“Come in.”

Chan walked through the door, smiling when he saw you so comfy in his bed. “I couldn’t sleep but I also didn’t try…and, I can’t let you leave before I kiss you again.”

“Well good because I was thinking the same thing.”

He fully shut the door and locked it before he removed his shirt and hopped in the bed with you, lips immediately catching yours. His hands came up to grope your breasts roughly, sucking and biting your bottom lip as he did so. He slid a hand under your shirt, breaking the kiss when he felt your bare skin.

“God Baby, you’re driving me crazy. Seeing you in nothing but my shirt is making me sooo hard.” You took his hand in yours and moved it over your pussy. “Fuck…so wet already.”

He moved down closer to the edge of the bed and kissed his way down from your stomach. He gave you butterflies in the best way possible. His lips danced across the skin on your inner thighs sending tingles up your spine.

“Channie…” you say breathlessly and he looks up at you as his mouth attaches to your sensitive bud.

With his head between your legs, messily eating your pussy, your eyes were squeezed shut. It took every bone in your body to not moan, knowing that if you did, you would be loud. He sensed it, so he stopped eating you out and crawled on top of you.

He used two fingers to slip into you while his thumb pressed down harshly on your clit. “Don’t hide them from me, I wanna hear them.”

“B-but my brother is here.”

“And I want to hear how good I make you feel. Don’t hold back Baby, lemme hear your pretty moans.” His fingers sped up their pace, not giving you any other option. You moaned as your back arched slightly. “That’s it Baby, good girl.”

It turned him on watching how his actions made you react but he needed more; needed to feel the way your pussy wrapped around him like it didn’t want to let him go. You reached out to pull on his shorts and finally free his achingly hard dick from its confines. He was BIG but what did you really expect, it was just really really intimidating. None of that mattered though, you just wanted him in you without any interruptions.

He hissed when he used your arousal to mix with his and coat his length. He gave it a few pumps before he eased the head past your entrance. “I’ll go slow okay baby?”

“Okay Channie just keep going, please don’t stop.”

He caught his lip between his teeth, feeling the lust course through his veins hearing you beg and feeling the tightness of your walls. He watched your face contort in pleasure.

He was barely half way in, stretching you open with ease. “T-too big Channie…” You eyes were rolling back and you were already slurring your words.

“You can take it, look you’re doing so well for me Baby” he touched his forehead to yours and grabbed you by the jaw and kissed you again, “you feel so good Baby, so so fucking good, such a good girl for me.”

When he bottomed out he leaned over you to catch his breath so he wouldn’t cum too quickly. Your head was spinning. His body pressed into yours and the way he spoke to you already had your toes curling. He pulled out to the tip, your pussy making a squelching noise, and he quickly thrust himself back in. Your back arched off the bed and you almost screamed.

As much as you wanted to keep your sounds at bay, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep the volume down to a minimum. He snapped his hips forward with desperation, grunts and moans falling from the both of you. His hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing enough to make your head get fuzzy and awaken every nerve in your body. He pounded into you with no remorse, making this worth the long wait.

He suddenly pulled out, causing you to whine in response, and sat against the headboard. “Come ride me, wanna feel you in this position.”

You crawled over to him then hovered over his still hard, leaking dick. You sank down on him, taking small breaks so you wouldn’t faint from the pleasure. He bucked his hips up, making you drop down fully. He held you under your butt, spreading your pussy open to help you bounce on his dick easily.

The more you hopped up and down on him, the more you felt the sticky substances mix and connect the two of you. Your legs gave out when he started to thrust up into you every time you dropped down. He repositioned you so that you were on your knees, leaning forward into him. He grabbed a handful of your hair, your back arching more, as he hugged you and fucked you violently. The new angle made him abuse your sweet spot.

“Letting me fuck you with your brother just down the hall, I didn’t know you were such a slut Baby.”

“Mmm ah! Only for you Channie!”

He held you tighter when he felt your pussy clench around him. This is exactly what he wanted, what he dreamed of. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer himself, so he quickly flipped you onto your back again. One hand on the back of one of your knees and the other rubbing harsh circles on your clit.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck Channie I’m gonna cum!”

“You gonna cum? Yeah? Cum with me, make a mess all over my dick.”

He thrust deeper into you and bent down to suck on one of your nipples. A few more loud moans and circles on your clit and your pussy fluttered as you reached your orgasm. He didn’t stop and kept up his quick pace until you squirted all over him and the sheets below.

“Fuuuuuck” his hips stuttered and he pushed himself deep as he painted your walls white. He pulled out quickly, the rest of his cum spilling into his hands and seeping through his fingers.

When you looked down, you couldn’t help but grab his hands to put his fingers in your mouth. Funny enough, the cum looks just like the way you love your ice cream.

“Channie, I think you’re my favorite flavor.”

[jjscrybaby]

hi! can you one with rafe where his girl as asthma — maybe she’s had shortness of breath throughout the day and he can tell she’s not doing ok. or like at night, he wakes up without her and she’s needing steam from the faucet or shower to help her with her attack?

just an idea! i just love when he takes care of his girl xx

rafe cameron x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (asthma attack, cutie pie rafe, rafe being an amazing bf.)

thankyou for the req angel, hope you enjoy this! i don’t have asthma, so i did as much research as i could for this to be accurate so if it isn’t i very much apologise!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Rafe’s eyes blinked open, a soft groan leaving his mouth as he looked over to the window. It was still dark out, he definitely didn’t need to be awake yet. He closed his eyes again, turning over to throw his arm around your waist; his hand landed on an empty bed.

He opened his eyes in confusion, sitting up tiredly to look around the room. It was empty, no one there but him, but the bedroom door was ajar. He groaned again, forcing himself to his feet to go and find you.

The sound of the shower running caught his attention, he quickened his pace as he opened the door to the guest bathroom and stepped inside. You were sat against the bathtub, still clothed, taking sharp, croaky breaths. Steam filled the room, and he instantly knew what was going on.

“Hey, baby,” he cooed, kneeling down beside you. You let out another breath, it sounded painful. “Why haven’t you used your inhaler?”

“Can’t find it,” you croak out, he has to fight the urge to tell you off.

“Okay, baby. I know where the spare is, wait here one second, okay?” He murmured, running a hand through your hair as he stood back up and left the room.

He kept two spares, one in his bedside table and the other in his truck for when the two of you were out. He rushed to the bedroom and pulled open the drawer, grabbing it before making his way back to you. You’re now holding your chest, letting out wheezes and dry coughs.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he urged as he shook the inhaler and then pushed it past your lips. He pressed down on it and you inhaled the medicine slowly. “Good girl,” he praised softly as you breathed it in.

Your breathing slowly went back to normal, your chest loosening and your head starting to feel less dizzy. You leant against his chest, his hand rubbing up and down your back. You’d felt off all day, breathing had been difficult but not difficult enough for you to mention anything to Rafe.

“Why didn’t you wake me, huh?” He asked, reaching over you to switch the shower off. “Hate the thought of you strugglin’ in here by yourself.”

You looked down at your hands, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Didn’t want you to be mad that I lost my inhaler.”

“Silly girl,” he murmured, kissing your temple. He stood up and helped you to your feet, arm wrapping around your waist to lead you back to bed. “We’re gonna get a designated spot, yeah? You need that shit, y’know that.”

“I know,” you pouted, leaning your body weight on him.

He hummed, laying you down in bed before crawling in beside you. His arm wrapped tightly around your waist, tugging you backwards so you were fully in his arms.

“Next time, you tell me. What kinda boyfriend am I if you’re doin’ this shit alone?” He reprimanded, leaving open kisses to your cheek to soften the blow of his telling off.

“Promise,” you nodded, holding onto his hand that was wrapped around you.

“Get some sleep, baby. Know you must be tired out,” he urged.

He stayed awake until he was sure you were asleep, and he made a mental note to come up with a plan so you’d stop losing your damn inhaler. He just couldn’t bring himself to properly tell you off, not when it means he gets to take care of you.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

bonus i came up with when finding the header pics (i don’t want to talk about how long it took me to make, someone lmk what app they use for fake messages pls)

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.1k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! suggestive moments, mature readers only

Carter could hear his car approaching before it even came into view.

She had been grounded for two weeks, caught out with Topper on his granddad’s boat past curfew, and she had never been more bored in her life. Slumped back on the couch, she dipped her hand in the bag to grab another chip, pausing mid-bite when she heard the familiar hum of Rafe’s truck engine growl down the street.

“Oh fuck no,” she hopped off the couch, a trail of crumbs in her wake as she jogged to the front door. 

Though she knew you were away for the afternoon, your mom taking you to tour a local college on the mainland, she instinctively double checked that your car was still gone. She was thankful you weren’t here to see him in his oversized ego-mobile zipping down your street like he owned it.

You’d been devastated all week, crying yourself to sleep in the wake of seeing Rafe kiss Cassie Bryant. Nothing made Carter angrier than knowing you were hurt and not being able to do anything about it. 

She couldn’t believe his nerve to show up here. He’d been texting to you all week, clearly not taking your lack of response for the answer that it was. You were finally finding the strength to stay away from him, and she was not about to let that unravel.

She stood on the front porch, closing the door firmly behind her, arms crossed and stance wide like she was prepared to defend her castle. Really, she was prepared to defend you.

Rafe parallel parked on the street, some misogynistic country song blaring from his subwoofers. Carter rolled her eyes at the way his massive truck took up enough space for two cars, always claiming what wasn’t his, taking and taking and giving nothing in return.

Closing the driver’s door with a bang, Rafe hopped down from his truck and strolled toward the house, stopping short in the front walk when he noticed Carter glaring out at him.

“You have some fucking nerve, Cameron,” she spat at him.

“I’m not here for you,” he glared back.

“Well no one else in this house wants to talk to your ass right now so you can go ahead and turn right back around.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just wanna know why she wasn’t at my game today.”

“Uh-oh,” she tilted her head in mock-sympathy, “did ya lose?”

He clenched his jaw, an angry huff of air flaring his nostrils, “yeah, we lost.”

“Good.”

“Can you just let me in?” He started moving toward the front steps, but she didn’t move from her spot blocking the door. “I need to talk to her and she’s not answering my texts.”

“Do you think that’s an accident?” She scoffed. “Take a hint.”

“Okay, what’s your fucking problem, Carter?” He snapped the sentence off with a bite of her name.

“You’re my problem, Rafe,” she bit right back.

“What the fuck did I do? Why isn’t your sister answering my calls?”

“I dunno, maybe you should ask Cassie Bryant,” her hands uncrossed and rested on her hips.

Rafe stepped back, head dropping back in exasperation as he rolled his eyes at the sky.

“That’s what this is about? Cassie and I are just hooking up, what’s the big deal?”

“You mean besides the fact that Cassie’s made my sister’s life hell since they were in the same Kindergarten class?” She threw at him. “Or that you’ve been dragging my sister along since she was six years old just to ditch her for some wannabe Addison Rae tiktok flop?”

“God, you’re always so fucking dramatic, it isn’t even like that,” he gestured toward the window of your bedroom, still assuming you were up there somewhere avoiding him, “your sister knows we’re cool.”

“You’re not cool, Rafe. You’re an idiot,” she told him with a pitying shake of her head. 

Rafe turned her words over in his head, finally stopping long enough to consider the possibility that he’d done more damage than he initially thought.

“Is she really mad at me?” He mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Carter sighed, “No. She’s not mad at you. She’s never mad at you, that’s the problem. You don’t make her mad, you make her sad. All you ever do is make her sad.”

Shoulders falling, Rafe looked past Carter with a vacant stare. He looked so confused and distraught she almost felt bad for him. Almost. 

“I didn’t mean to make her sad,” he mumbled, almost at a whisper.

Carter scanned him with narrowed eyes, trying to decide if his penance was sincere. He looked down at his shoes, digging the tip of one into the stony walkway.

“How do I fix it?”

Carter started to think maybe he was sincere after all, but she still wasn’t sure he was in any place to be asking for advice.

“I don’t know if you can,” she told him.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said hopefully, trying to console himself. “She’ll come around.”

He looked at Carter like he was actually expecting her to agree.

“And then what, Rafe?” She tilted her head, genuinely curious about the answer. “What’s the end game here? You’ll just make her sad for a few more months and then go off to school and…what?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged defensively. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Exactly. You don’t think things through. That’s always been your problem,” she informed him, “you just do what you want and pay no attention to how it affects other people. If you really cared about her, you wouldn’t keep putting her through the same shit over and over.”

“I do care about her,” he mumbled, her words beginning to penetrate his carefully constructed antagonistic armor.

“I wish I could believe that,” she shook her head sadly, “I wish she could believe that. At least when she did, she wasn’t crying herself to sleep every night.”

Sour regret burned in his throat at the thought of your tears dripping onto your pillowcase, some unfamiliar heartache he didn’t understand. 

“Maybe you could convince her that I do,” he offered, “she listens to you.”

“Why would I do that?” Carter snapped.

“Because then she wouldn’t be so sad,” his voice was so feeble it was like he was shrinking right before her eyes, his tall, intimidating frame so small and inadequate under the towering shadow of his guilt.

“Tell you what Rafe,” she began, “I’ll try and convince her that you care about her if you can look me in the eyes and tell me with your whole chest that you won’t hurt her anymore, that you won’t use her to your advantage, or drop off the face of the earth for weeks not answering her texts, or kiss other girls right in front of her face. That you’ll fight for her and put her before your own selfish bullshit. Can you make that promise?”

He wrung his hands, mindlessly adjusting the ring on his right forefinger, jaw clenched as he tried to will forth a convincing enough yes. He couldn’t do it.

“That’s what I thought,” Carter said. “If you can’t fight for her, then…”

“What?” He asked desperately, hoping she’d offer him some olive branch shaped way out of the  shame engulfing his chest.

“Then I am asking you- begging you really - to let her go. Stop texting, stop coming by the house, stop making promises you’re not gonna keep. Please. If not for me, then for her.”

“Do you think that’s what she wants?” He asked.

“No. But I think it’s what she needs,” she said, knowing it would kill you if you knew she was doing this, but believing with her whole heart that it was right.

Rafe rarely thought about the future. The farthest his mind went was the next few minutes in front of him. It was his fatal flaw, acting for the moment and not for the moment after, or the version of himself that would face the consequences of his poor choices. Yet, in this moment, he had the keen sense that his next move would be a pivotal one, the gravity of it making his feet feel heavy on the stone pathway. He could stay, he could argue, scream your name until you came out and talked to him. But then what? Would he have the courage to follow through? Was he enough of a man to handle the weight of your expectation?

Ultimately, he knew the right thing was to stay and fight, but the easy thing would be to just go.

So, as he almost always did, Rafe made the easy choice.

“Okay,” he nodded to Carter. “I’ll let her go.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice shaking with the fear that if you knew what she just convinced him to do, you’d never forgive her. 

“I’m not doing it for you,” he made sure she knew before turning and climbing back into his truck.

Once in the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone, looking at your name in his contacts. Like his fingers were moving without his mind’s permission, he deleted you. It didn’t matter really, he thought, he’d remember your number on his deathbed. He’d remember it all, and he’d hate himself forever for driving away.

Carter stayed on the porch, watching him go, praying desperately that you’d never find out she was the reason he left.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

“We’re gonna have to go back eventually,” you said.

Rafe sat behind you in the sand, holding you with his chin resting easy on your shoulder as you took in the sprawling pink sunrise together. 

“Says who?” He countered.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. His eyelids were heavy, purple under the eyes from the exhaustion of being awake all night.

“You’re falling asleep,” you noticed.

“Yeah because some girl kept me up all night, begging me to take her to the beach and kiss her,” he joked.

“Excuse me, sir, this was your idea!” You sat up and stretched, your words making him laugh despite his immediate discomfort at the loss of your body in his arms. “What time is it anyway?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “my phone’s in the car.”

“Mine too,” you chuckled, “I hope Carter’s okay. She was looking rough before we left.”

He had half a mind to propose the two of you never leave the beach, but he could hear the genuine concern under your lighthearted words. He stood from the sand and dusted himself off, reaching out a hand to pull you to your feet. You took it with a smile, lingering for a moment as you stood, your hand in his, taking one last look around the beach, searching for some kind of landmark.

“What are you looking for?” He asked.

“I just want to remember exactly where we were,” you explained.

“Why, you wanna recreate it?” He smiled softly at you.

“Oh, I plan to recreate it many times,” you wink at him.

It took all his strength to leave that spot and head back to the car, back to the house full of people who weren’t you, back to reality.

“I can drive,” he suggested, planning to take the slowest route possible, and actually follow the speed limit for the first time in his life.

As soon as he started the car up, your CD started blasting through the speakers. You laughed at each other, the catalyst of this whole encounter feeling like it was days ago. The time on the car radio told you it’d only been about two hours. You lifted your phone but the screen remained black.

“Shit, it’s dead,” you told him, opening the glovebox and digging around for a charger.

While you were distracted, Rafe lifted his own phone from the cupholder he’d left it in. His screen did light up, displaying a slew of frantic texts from Topper and Kelce. He winced, wishing he hadn’t looked. He didn’t read the texts, not wanting whatever nonsense they were bothering him with to pop the blissful bubble wrapped around the two of you. He knew he shouldn’t start off your new…whatever this was…by lying to you, but he needed to stay in this happy place just a little longer.

“Mine’s dead too,” he lied, flipping the phone over in the cup holder to hide the screen.

“Of course Carter doesn’t have a charger,” you sighed, “she has like twenty hair ties and lipglosses, but no charger. Classic.”

“I know my way back,” he shrugged, “we’ll be good.”

Rafe put the car in reverse, backing out of the little side road with his arm on the seat next to your head. You watched the way he turned in his seat to look out the back window, neck muscles flexing with the stretch and his big hand manipulating the steering wheel with ease. 

For the first time in the sixteen years you’d known him, you didn’t try to hide your gaze as you took him in. The same attraction that used to make you feel skittish and ashamed now settled over you peacefully, like an icy winter finally melting into a warm, bright spring. You looked at him all you wanted, noting every detail, taking mental photographs of every inch of his skin.

You’d always thought he was cute - actually, no, you always thought he was hot as fuck - but now for the first time, you allowed yourself to look long enough to notice how beautiful he was. Pins and needles burst out all over your body as you realized how badly you needed to kiss him again.

Rafe could feel your eyes on him as he drove, choosing not to say anything and risk you looking away. He felt at home in your gaze, happier than he could ever remember being.

Inhibitions left back on the beach, you fearlessly reached out toward him, hand grazing gently over his jaw. You loved the ticklish little stubble that had grown there in just a few days without shaving. You smiled as you thought about the boy who could barely grow peach fuzz, now a man, strong and solid under your fingertips. Something warm and electric buzzed in your stomach, and you knew Rafe could feel it too, his skin heating under your tender touch.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the road but leaning slightly into your hand to encourage you to keep touching him.

“Nothing,” you smiled, “I’ve just never gotten to look at you this long.”

“Is it making you change your mind?” He smirked, clearly not worried about the answer, his confidence making him impossibly sexier.

“Just the opposite,” you confirmed, “I think you’re always gonna have to drive from now on.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well now that I’ve gotten a good look I don’t think I could keep my eyes on the road. I always had the hardest time not looking over at you.”

Rafe grinned wide as your hand slipped from his jaw to the back of his head, fingers lacing in his soft hair, scratching his scalp lovingly. There was no rhyme or reason to your movements, but you didn’t care, you just needed your hands on him. He didn’t seem to mind, head leaning back into your palm to let you know he needed you as much as you needed him.

“I know you did,” he said.

“How?” You asked.

“Because I could never keep myself from looking over at you,” he confessed.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered their way through your chest. Now you were certain- you’d never been more attracted to anyone as you were to him in this moment.

Rafe took your silent smile as a good sign, “did I get another A with that line?”

Your hand slid slowly down to his shoulder, over the ridges and ripples of his arms, flexing under your soft touch, until you found his hand, pulling it into your own. 

“Gold stars, baby,” you smiled.

Rafe’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the air in the car becoming thicker by the second as he shifted in his seat. You beamed at him, realizing with a flurry of excitement - you had Rafe Cameron flustered.

“You like when I call you baby?” You purred, eager to see how far you could push it.

His grip tightened around your hand, “you can’t say shit like that to me when I’m driving.”

You could feel the dam breaking. You needed him. Now.

“Then pull over.”

He finally took his eyes off the road for a second at that, looking over at you for confirmation; are you serious? You gave him a steely, lustful look in return; as a heart attack.

Rafe practically popped a tire turning the wheel hard and pulling the car down a side street, driving until he found a little secluded enclave by the beach, a perfectly private spot. He threw the car in park, making you laugh at the jolt it gave with his urgency. He didn’t waste a second, reaching both hands over to grab your face and pull your lips to his.

You sighed into his mouth, no hesitancy holding you back from slipping your tongue between his lips. He pulled away just long enough to grit out a raspy, “come here,” before throwing his seatbelt off.

You unbuckled your own, holding tight to his shoulders as you swung your leg over the console and climbed, somewhat awkwardly, into his lap. Your head fell back in laughter as your butt accidentally pressed the horn, the sound blasting through the quiet morning air. Rafe laughed too, easing your slight embarrassment as he reached down to slide the seat back.

Once you had more room, you pulled back to get a better look at him. He looked up at you with wide blue eyes, so gentle and kind in the way they took you in. Rafe reached up and brushed your hair over your shoulder, taking a deep breath as his hands grazed your shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered to fill the silence.

You cracked the slightest smile, unable to repress your amusement.

“What?” He puzzled.

“I just didn’t imagine you to be so…sweet like this,” you explained, though you hated how the words sounded coming out of your mouth, afraid it would sound like a criticism and cause him to withdraw.

“Only for you,” he said.

“Uh oh,” you teased, hands laying flat over his chest as you leaned forward, relieved you hadn’t ruined the moment after all, “is big bad Rafe Cameron going weak for me?”

“He always has been,” he nodded, his dimples creasing his cheeks with his sheepish smile.

You slid your hands up to either side of his face, thumbs dipping into his dimples. You’d always wanted to do that. You couldn’t believe that after all that waiting and longing, you really could just lean forward and kiss him if you wanted to. 

So you did, like you were trying to prove to yourself that this was actually real. The second your lips met his, you could tell he was thinking the same exact thing.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips as he sat up off the seat just slightly to meet your mouth fervently. You bent over him, your hair falling in a curtain around his face. His hands felt so good, so right, warm and strong against you. You smiled into the kiss as you could feel them sliding so slowly, reverently, over your curves, until they found a home on your lower back, bringing you forward to rest fully against him. It was the same gentle control he had taken on the jetski, and it was addictive.

He was hard, you could feel him firm beneath you, and your head flooded with lustful thoughts. You rolled your body just slightly against him, but he felt every second of it, his hands sliding lower until he was kneading the flesh of your ass. Breathless, you paused, forehead against, another roll of your body as you pressed into him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He breathed, chest rising and falling with heavy pants.

“No, don’t, I’ve wanted this for so long,” it came out more desperate than you planned, but you didn’t care, you needed him to know.

“Me too, kid, you have no idea,” he smiled.

Your nose scrunched, pulling back to look at him with narrow eyes, “kid? Really?”

“Well you don’t like when I call you baby, so…”

“That is not what I said,” you laughed, “I said don’t say things you don’t mean. You can call me whatever you want, as long as you mean it”

“In that case…” he leaned in again, hands on either side of your face as his lips met yours before pulling away to meet your eyes as he said, “hey baby.”

You melted into him, his hands cradling your head the only thing keeping you grounded to the planet. He littered your face and jaw with slow, deliberate kisses, working his way toward your neck as he whispered more sweet pet names into your skin.

“Beautiful,” with a kiss to your jaw, “angel,” with a kiss to your neck, just below your ear, “my girl,” with a kiss to your collarbone, lingering to suck on the skin right at the base of your neck, marking you lightly.

Your whole body pulled him in tighter, dizzy with the ecstasy of having him like this. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just hard enough to tell him how good he was making you feel. You couldn’t resist but push down into his hardness, muscles tense as his lips tickled the sensitive skin around the collar of your shirt.

“Rafe…” you sighed out as he continued to suck lip shaped marks into you, his hands kneading your ass, arms strong around you like he alone was the one keeping you tethered to the earth.

He pulled away from you just far enough to look you in the eyes, his pupils blown out. There was a kind of darkness in his eyes, sending excitement, and maybe even a touch of fear, shooting through your body. You wondered what would happen if he dropped the gentleness and really seized control, longing to be the one to send him to that place.

“Are you?” He whispered. Hunger, lust, and some more vulnerable third thing laced the deep tenor of his voice as his eyes searched yours, “are you my girl?”

His brows were furrowed so tight with intensity, you worried he was gonna give himself a headache. 

You ran your thumb over the scrunched skin on his forehead, smoothing it out, gentle but firm. You continued to run your fingers over his face, both to put him at ease and to buy yourself time, the answer to his question stuck somewhere in your chest, unwilling or unable to make its way to your tongue.

“I…” you started, the worry growing back on his face at the sound of your hesitation.

Before you could finish the thought, a loud DING! rang out through the quiet car, making you both jump.

“I thought you said your phone was dead?” You questioned, more edge to your tone than you’d meant, frustration over the interruption seeping into your words.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just wanted more time with you.”

“It’s okay,” you said, a bit non-committal in your forgiveness. “Who is it?”

Rafe sighed as he retrieved his phone from the cupholder, reading the most recent message.

“It’s Top,” he answered, “he’s saying we should get back to the house but won’t say why. So dramatic.”

You chuckled softly, relief washing through Rafe at the return of your smile.

“We should probably go then,” you said, “if for no other reason than I’m nosy and want to know what’s going on.”

He nodded slowly, hands reluctantly letting you go “we’ll come back to this, though, right?”

You knew he meant more than just the kiss and your intimate position in Carter’s front seat. He meant this; the big ‘What Are We?’

Never in a million years would you have guessed that he’d be the one posing the question, or that you’d have this hard of a time coming up with the answer.

(Chapter 8: part two)

a/n: entering my 'posting what's ready when it's ready and not caring about word count' era, welcome!!

please note, i've closed the taglist for this story. to be first to know when i post please follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifications 💘

[wonallofme]

let it out, loser!

tw and tags: boxer!jungwon x fem!reader, smut, no condom, penetration, creampie, squirt, heavy dubcon, no plot just porn, the sex is nasty af, a little of blood (biting lips and fight wounds), allusion to past noncon, insanity from both of them. word count: 1.7k note: hi! i haven't written anything in a long time and just wanted to do something short. this is my first (official) enhypen piece, hope someone here likes it. if you know me from my other blog, you just know the sex i write is not the most sane one. again, this is pure fiction! Please be careful about the tags you wish to block.

credits for the divider: @bernardsbendystraws (link)

The sound of his keys being thrown to the table in your kitchen shouldn’t be that hot. The sound of his bag hitting your floor with fury shouldn’t make your panties get wet. Even more, the sound of his heart beating inside his chest so fast shouldn’t make you excited for what was about to come.

Knowing too well how he, his breath, his steps, his things, sounded when he was angry after a loss, shouldn’t turn you on.

One, two, three, four. You counted the steps he took.

Usually, if he walked around the room, he would be searching for condoms. He didn’t walk that much, so you immediately knew, he would be harder that night.

After all, he needed to let everything out to be himself the next day.

‘’I know you’re awake,’’ he said, making you open your eyes to not pretend anymore.

He didn’t try to be gentle.

His face was a mess, even in the darkness of the night, with the little to almost no light that trespassed your curtains, you could see a faint purple color on his cheek, and a bright fresh red on his lip. Both meant he would leave you hurting too.

You didn’t have to ask what he wanted from you.

You ruffled in your sheets.

You moved them so he could accommodate himself between your legs, and rubbing your eyes from the recent nap you had, you simply let him take your pajama shorts off.

It was better when you didn’t interrupt him.

You don’t hate this version of him. You know that, when the morning comes, he’ll be your nice boyfriend again. He’ll make breakfast and won’t talk at all about the night or his fight. He’ll let you clean his wounds, he’ll give you a silent soft kiss after walking you to class, and then he’ll go to the gym to keep training.

He made it hurt those nights, but he never made it hurt in your daily life.

Jungwon is the kind of boyfriend that makes sure you’re always comfortable while having sex. He leaves soft pecks on your cheek while fingering you, and he asks if you’re okay when he puts it in. He’s so tender, sometimes, you’re the one afraid of hurting him.

So, these times, when he doesn’t ask how you feel, and he just takes, you try to understand him.

A whimper came out of your mouth, totally involuntarily, when you felt his spit touching your entrance.

He was over you, between your legs, forcing them open with his own amplitude, staring at your entrance and how his saliva mixed with your wetness.

For these occasions, that little help was more than enough for you. He almost laughed. A smirk appeared on his mouth, and he let a curse out. Were you happy he was a mess? Was he really that pathetic? Why were you always so excited when he arrived from losing a match?

‘’You’re lucky I’m this kind, crazy bitch.’’

Pressing his tip on your wet clit, he exhaled loudly, looking defeated, before moving it down between your lips, smearing his spit along. He didn’t look at your eyes in this mode. He didn’t dare to look at your face. He concentrated on what he wanted from you, and you tried to find what parts of him were wounded so you could make a list of things you might need.

Ointment, bandages, cold pads, maybe you would have to cook him something nice too. Did you have apples left?

You couldn’t continue thinking when he slid in.

The burning made you leave a hurt sound out. You whimpered again, because of the pain, and hissed when he pulled out.

He didn’t ask you anything. He didn’t kiss your lips to ease it up or apologise in your ear before stopping altogether. You could see his mind thinking of something, and you wanted to suggest him, maybe he could give you more of it? As if reading your mind, he spat on his hand, a long line of drool finding his cock, and some of it spilling on your pussy on the way.

Your legs trembled with the sensation, somehow feeling a rush in your entire body. You wanted it so bad, this side of him, that when he wrapped the back of your thighs to oblige it all the way to your breast, you cried.

Not because of the sudden movement, or because of how challenging the position was, but because you knew he wanted you to feel it all.

And, when he wanted that, you would really feel it all.

‘’Fu-fuck,’’ you moaned when he bullied his way inside again.

Immediately after talking, you bit your lips.

He didn’t like it when you talked. Whether it was to complain or praise him, he didn’t care. He needed you to not talk or make him think or look at your face. He needed you to be, if possible, dead silent to only concentrate on his own thoughts.

Of course, that was almost impossible, so he would press a hand on your mouth if you didn’t behave, and in the worst cases, to mute you, he would press your face down.

Whimpers were acceptable. Broken moans, bearable. But words? No, never.

You wanted to apologize but it wasn’t the right answer, you knew it too well. You know him too well. Or so, you wanted to believe.

He pushed your legs further, slamming inside, pushing the air out of your lungs.

It continued hurting, but you couldn’t care less.

The awareness of him being there, the sound of his breathing, his hisses, the groans, you wanted it all.

A wet echo filled the room with the force he used to fuck you and your wet pussy taking him. Your walls moved to accommodate him, to welcome him with much enthusiasm, just like your hands pulling your legs closer to make it more comfortable for him.

He wasn’t wearing a condom, and just the memory of his cum all inside you made you tighten around him.

Inside your mind, you repeated give it to me, please, because your mouth wasn’t allowed to do it. It felt way too good. The first time, it made you deeply uncomfortable to feel it inside. You felt dirty, disgusting, and you couldn’t believe it had happened. Now, you couldn’t find the words to ask for it again.

You could only hope he lost.

‘’Fuck, why can’t I…? Fuck!’’

His torso raised, his hips aligned at a better angle, and he thrusted harder.

Your teeth were sinking on your lower lip, brows furrowing and eyes closing to not show him how much you were enjoying it. Probably, it was useless to even try to hide it.

Your shirt was sticking to your torso because of the sweat. Yours, his. Fuck, you heard him curse. The lower front wet spot, in no way, was from just sweat.

The spasms were arriving. You felt your abdomen get tighter, and you tried to calculate how much time had passed. It hasn’t been long enough, you concluded. You couldn’t cum, you had to hold it in, for him, because it couldn’t end so fast. For him, that short time was not enough. It couldn’t be enough.

He needed you to hold it. He needed it. He.

You cried. This time, a few tears escaped. You turned your face to the side, and a salty flavor on your tongue distracted you.

You only noticed you bit yourself so hard your lips were bleeding when you felt more of the metallic taste invading you.

Out of the ordinary, he leaned to inspect your face. His hand tactlessly gripped your chin and forced you to face him, and when he saw the drops of blood flooding your delicate lip, under your teeth, he gulped.

‘’You’re such a mess too.’’

His mouth found yours in a second, obliging you to leave your poor lip free. He, first, just grazed them, doubting to do such a soft act with you, before crashing your wound with his.

The kiss, just like the sex, was not delicate at all.

The sting in your lips was not a sensation you were familiar with. His lips were always soft with you, at least until that moment. At much, they would be lustful, making out with you for long periods of time, but never brute.

His fingers stabbed your jaw, and his tongue prodded out.

You couldn’t breathe properly, overwhelmed with his strength, so you opened your lips to inhale some air, an act he took advantage of by barging his tongue into your mouth.

You had no way of using your brain at that moment. His tongue inside your mouth stealing your little air, his entire weight sinking you to the bed, his shoulders maintaining your legs up and against your chest, his cock balls deep inside you. It was all too much. Your head was too dizzy to remember exactly at what point you had your orgasm.

You remember your legs shaking, and an embarrassing loud cry muffled with his mouth against yours.

Also, you remember the broken moan he left out, and his hips reassuming a brutal pace that makes you roll your eyes with the mere memory. His long cock had hit a spot that made you lose yourself, and your pussy, so sensitive with how he had continued using you, had the most intense orgasm you ever had.

The clean gush finished wetting the front of your shirt, splashing his abdomen and making a pod slide down onto the bedsheets. Sadly, he didn’t care that you were trembling and bawling because of it. He plunged back inside, biting your cries and mixing both bloods while trying to find his own orgasm.

He left it out all inside you.

When you felt his warm cum invading you, you passed out.

After that, all is black. You try to move your body, finding it uncomfortable and painful. Still, you turn your head, finding your boyfriend’s naked back beside you. From the way his breath is calm now that he’s sleeping, you deduce he’s back to normal after finding his release.

Your shirt is different, clean, and the bed sheets are blue instead of white, so you know it’s not the same set from the night before.

At the sensation of his cum leaking out of you, you wonder if changing your clothes and sheets was the only thing he did to you while you were unconscious.

[tinythebunni]

rafe had his eyes on you for a while. you were new to the island and everyone wanted to be by you. you seemed to have this energy that attracted everyone, like a fucking magnet.

rafe couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you. you were everything he could want in a girl. tall, slim, curvy, shiny skin, beautiful hair, and most of all you were so feminine. he loved a girl he could take care of, provide for even.

he first saw you at the country club. you were clad in skimpy pink bikini with white polka dots, a white bow in the side of your hair, and white flats on. you read some magazine he couldn’t be bothered to even pay attention to. for right now, you were his main object of his attention. you could feel his eyes on you, you usually did.

you’d been here only two weeks and you knew all about the infamous rafe cameron. there were rumors he killed some cop and he had a drug problem.

people said he was one of the most fun people in the world but he would blow up in the quarter of a second. no girl could hold him down and he always got what he wanted. everyone wanted to be him or fuck him.

he’d made slight advances in the short amount of time you’ve been in the outer banks. holding a door open for you, paying for your drink, offering to apply your sunscreen while you tanned at the beach, the whole shabang.

you didn’t give him the slightest ounce of your attention. you wanted him to work for it. obviously you wanted him but you can’t let him know that! if rafe always got what he wanted then he wouldn’t mind a challenge.

you liked this game of cat and mouse you guys played. you didn’t know how much longer you could take it though. your friend daphne had invited you to some kook party at her stupid chad bfs house.

you went of course because rafe would be there. and you wanted him to see you, especially in this outfit. a lacy pink halter neck and pink mini skirt with ties on the sides. it showed just enough of skin to make him crazy. you wanted him to know what he was missing out on.

who knows? maybe tonight you’ll let him have a taste.

after a while of being at the party you started to get a bit bored. there were people making out in the corners, the alcohol tasted shit, and rafe still wasn’t here.

you were slightly buzzed and contemplating walking out when you saw him. he wore only a white wife beater and some denim jeans. what really caught your attention was the way his eyes were immediately on you when he came in.

he looked you over, greeting a few people, but not once did his eyes stray off you.

“top, i gotta go handle something. i’ll catch ya later.” and with that he strides over to you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into a room upstairs.

you had butterflies in your stomach. after a month he couldn’t take it anymore. you were excited to see what he would do now.

he swiftly locked the door and turned towards you with an almost primal look in his eyes. you giggle as he rubs the back of his neck and glares.

“do you think this shit is fuckin funny? been wanting you for months and you think it’s game. do you know how hard you make me? those skimpy fucking skirts and that coy smile.“

you were positive you looked like a fish out of water right now. you could feel a heat rising in your belly and a blush flushing your checks and neck.

“i didn’t know i affected you that much” you whispered.

“bullshit. i see you close your thighs each time i fucking look at you. can barely focus on anything when you’re near by.”

rafe is stalking towards you now, and you back up more and more until your knees finally hit the bed. he pushes you back until your lying on your back, with only your elbows and forearms holding you up.

he pulls your skirt over your tummy, glancing up at you as he places a kiss on your thigh.

“tell me this is okay. i needa know what you taste like. i can’t fucking stand it. so close to your pussy i can practically feel you on my tongue already.”

you give a shaky nod but that’s not enough.

he pinches the inside of your thigh and shakes his head with disapproval.

“no. baby i need words. use your voice, ain’t even touched you yet so i know you’re not fucked out already.”

“yes, yes rafe this is okay! please i need it” you whine while your lips pout slightly.

he was being so mean right now! is this what it felt like for him all this time?

he places a kiss on your clit over your panties and thumbs at your entrance. he smoothes your arousal over your lips and curses under his breath.

rafe takes his time making you whimper and whine. you push your hips up for some kind of friction, something more than he’s giving you. he uses his left hand to hold you down while his right pushes down on your clit, the pressure making your eyes roll back.

“calm down sweet thing. s’okay. m jus getting you ready. been dreaming bout this and i wanna take my time”

the cameron boy takes off your underwear and pauses. you can’t tell if he’s in awe or disgusted.

“so fucking pretty baby. is this all for me?” he questions as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

“rafe of course it is, do you see anybody else in this fucking room?” you’re mad now, you’re so fucking horny and he’s being a tease!

“alright alright” he laughs, placing a kiss to your thigh and looking up at you one last time.

“not letting you go after this is done. you’re mine.”

[bugeyedfreaks]

Am a different anon but also not commenting on the shipping thing (they're more nostalgic ships than dedicated. I just know I shipped them because I like romance and puppy love.)

I wanted to comment on about the boys being "pure evil/bad" as I want to at least point out a flaw in that argument.

First:

The Powerpuff Girls are not pure good/innocent, and therefore cannot be perfect or the expectation of it.

Blossom has reasoned herself that stealing was okay if it was for people she loved.

Buttercup provoked and beat up villains to take their teeth for money.

Bubbles has challenged her aggression to be more extreme based on insecurities of being seen soft.

The girls have lied and hid facts or truths from others if it meant they benefitted.

These are negative traits that "pureness" cannot contain, making the girls lean toward good/Justice but still be flawed to always making the correct choices.

Second:

This if the girls are not purely good, then it should be fair to state the boys are not purely bad/evil. There can also be the argument that the RRB¹ (Mojo original) may be different from RRB² (HIM iteration). This would mean that RRB¹ have the potentially to be good (non-Hellish origins to corrupt) while RRB² may be generally Hellish due to HIM's influence of their resurrection.

I am not stating the boys in canon would become heros or true neutrals — but that depending if one argues RRB¹ or RRB², they will be flawed in their own moral code just like the girls. They could be persuaded to do good IF given an incentive to follow, just as their counterparts did for "bad" things.

However, in the truth of the general matter — the PPG Crew did not care to give depth or matter to the RRB. They are just vague opposites of the girls. They were not intended to be developed characters, simply "bad boys" with Brick being the speak, and Butch & Boomer are nearly identical in mannerisms. (Seriously, both have virtually no lines, and depending on the episode, both say something or behave in an obsurd/hyperactive way that is the same).

The comics present a more interesting dynamic of the boys as more rivals more than just "plotting villains".

This whole discussion came from me saying that I think there’s a reason why the girls have imperfections and how the boys’ situation isn’t the same, therefore the opposite situation would not be true.

[littlelamy]

Rafe taking care of Reader who goes through a depressive episode. She’s feeling like she is a burden and feels like everyone would be happier with her gone. Maybe things are pretty new between them, only gone on a few dates so she obviously (like most) isn’t going to tell him anything and doesn’t think she matters to a guy she has gone on a few dates with anyway, so she just stops responding to his texts

a/n: thank you for requesting!⭐️ i hope i wrote it appropriately to what you requested 🙂💗part 2 is up!

the first time rafe noticed something was off, it was subtle—just a missed text here and there. maybe a delayed reply. nothing unusual at first. he probably told himself you were busy. everyone has those days where life gets hectic.

but when hours stretched into days and your replies went from short to nonexistent, he started to feel that quiet pull of worry.

“hey, you okay?” he texted the day before, after his third unanswered message.

you saw it pop up on your screen. his name glowed against the darkness of your room, and for a moment, your heart ached with the idea of answering. but then the thought crept in.

he’s just being polite.he barely knows you.he’s probably relieved you stopped answering anyway.

so you let the screen go dark.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. it wasn’t like you two were serious. you’d only gone on a handful of dates, and even though every moment with rafe had been sweet and effortless, there was no way someone like him could actually care.

you’d been wrong about people before.

the weight in your chest had only grown heavier over the past few weeks. even getting out of bed felt impossible some days, let alone pretending to be okay for someone like rafe cameron. so, you didn’t bother. you shut your phone off, buried it under a pillow, and let the world fade into static.

the knock at your door startled you.

at first, you thought it might’ve been a neighbor or a delivery driver, someone just passing through. but then it came again, louder this time, more deliberate.

“y/n?”

you froze, your breath catching as his voice carried through the door.

“it’s rafe.”

you stared at the door like it might open on its own. the last thing you wanted was to face him, especially like this. but hearing his voice made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“i, uh…” he hesitated, the sound of him shifting his weight audible through the thin walls. “i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

you stayed silent, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. but deep down, you knew rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to just walk away.

“you don’t have to let me in,” he added, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “just… let me know you’re alright.”

you clenched your fists, trying to will the lump in your throat away. how were you supposed to explain that you weren’t alright? that you hadn’t been alright in weeks?

the knock came again, gentler this time.

“i’m not leaving until i know you’re okay,” he said firmly, though there was no anger in his voice. only concern.

you sat frozen for what felt like forever, listening to the silence on the other side of the door. maybe he’d given up. maybe he was walking away right now, realizing this wasn’t worth his time.

but then your phone buzzed from where it lay buried under the pillow.

you hesitated before reaching for it, your hands trembling as you unlocked the screen.

rafe <3: hey, i’m outside your place. not trying to bother you, i just wanted to check in. if you need space, i get it. just let me know you’re alright, okay?

your chest ached as you read the words. there was nothing demanding about them, nothing that made you feel guilty or trapped. he wasn’t asking for anything except to know you were safe.

and that made it worse somehow.

because you weren’t.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[lady-ashfade]

Our comfort

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)

—£ Yes I know I haven’t finish the book but I actually couldn’t wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.

—£ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the reader’s attention. Short.

You weren’t a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.

But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didn’t care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.

The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.

You couldn’t leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.

Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.

Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasn’t much to tell.

So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.

The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.

Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.

Hermes children are hard to explain really. They aren’t aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. He’s either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.

Many games of all houses take place just for you.

AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, she’s like a lost duck at times.

Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. He’s not possessive much. He’s willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when he’s “crying” and having you fuss over him then he’ll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.

When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.

So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.

Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.

He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesn’t help that you follow him to make sure he’s okay. At the beginning you’re both following each other around.

“It’s okay, Percy.” You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. “You’ll get claim, and you’ll have glory.” And he doesn’t care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special. 

Also, you protect the new bloods. So you’ll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Can’t risk making you mad at them.

When Percy gets claimed he’s all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isn’t fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.

So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Can’t you see how alone he is?

He can’t sleep unless he knows your watching over him.

You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.

[gloomwitchwrites]

You send him a text "Thanks for the flowers, babe" attached with a photo of a bouquet as a prank. Obvs, he gets jealous/possessive.

Anon, I love this. I cackled the first time I read it, and I've been wanting to get to it for a while. There are so many requests (and I will get to them all), but with my health being shit, I'm trying to select from the pool where I'm not overworking my brain or stressing myself out trying to come up with something. This prompt came very naturally to me.

These are all spicy. Period. I didn't hold back with this one. Maybe I'm ovulating or some shit but I literally couldn't write anything but smut for this prompt. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, dirty talk, praise, spanking, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, restraints, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, jealousy, possessive behavior, orgasm control

Word Count: 4.4k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, attention stuck on Price who stands in front of a large map of Europe.

There are pictures—some have a red “X” through them while a couple others have black question marks. The mission isn’t done, but that isn’t surprising. This has taken months to complete. It’s been slow, and entirely too complicated for Simon’s liking.

His phone buzzes again, the vibration pulling his attention away.

When the third buzz comes in, his agitation turns to worry. Simon never allows messages to come through at work unless it’s from very specific people. To have three come through in less than two minutes stirs something in his gut.

Price starts talking again but Simon’s brain is melting. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. Keeping it next to his thigh, Simon awakens the screen.

Your name is there and 3 new messages.

Simon glances up, but no one is looking at him. Silently, he unlocks the phone and clicks over to his messages, tapping on your name.

At first, Simon doesn’t understand. His brain short-circuits, and then unbridled jealousy comes roaring forward.

The first message is a photo of a beautiful bouquet sitting on the kitchen island. It’s fucking large, taking up most of the space. The flowers are different shades of pink, yellow, and orange. It looks like spring.

Beneath the picture are two texts.

Thanks for the flowers!!

I love you!

But Simon did not get you flowers. He didn’t order these, and he certainly didn’t have them delivered to the flat.

Fuck. What the actual fuck.

Someone else did this.

Simon’s first thought is that Johnny did it to prank him. But Johnny has been a bit subdued today, and his attention isn’t on Simon at all.

No. It’s likely not him.

Simon locks his phone and stews. He can’t just leave this meeting. It’s important, but he’s going to get to the fucking bottom of it.

By the time Price dismisses them, Simon is already out the door, charging toward his locker to grab his stuff. It usually takes him a half hour to arrive home, but today he does it in twenty. When Simon bursts through the front door, he’s ready to toss those flowers right off the balcony.

But then he sees your face—how happy you are—and Simon melts. You throw yourself into his arms, and Simon instinctually responds, embracing you tightly. He presses his face into your hair and inhales.

“Missed you,” you say, grabbing both sides of his face and kissing him. “Thank you for the flowers.”

I didn’t get you any flowers.

Simon smiles because it’s all he can manage. That jealousy from earlier starts to curl back up, twisting around in his ribcage.

“Did you like the note?”

You frown. “What note?”

The way you ask is…odd. It’s far too innocent in the presentation. Simon knows your cues and this seems forced to him. But the sender didn’t leave a message. That doesn’t give Simon much to go on if he’s going to track down who sent them.

“Maybe they forgot,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “Show them to me.”

With a bright smile, you take his hand, guiding him into the kitchen. They’re much more stunning in person and Simon momentarily freezes. Did he forget your birthday? An anniversary? An important event?

Simon recalls nothing for today’s date.

The jealousy rises again but he clamps down on it. Anyone could have sent this, especially a friend of yours or a family member. Doesn’t mean there is someone out there with predatory intentions. And for all Simon knows, you’re having a laugh, riling me up. You’ve done it before.

“They’re lovely,” observes Simon. “Better than the picture.”

Your grin is gorgeous, a thing Simon wants to bottle up. You open your mouth to answer him but the dryer goes off. “Hold on,” you call over your shoulder as you dash away. “Let me change over the loads.”

When you disappear, Simon goes for the bouquet. He quickly checks through every flower and between the stems, even sticks his fingers in the dirt. Simon doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking for, but he’s grasping for anything.

The only thing of note is the business card which Simon quickly plucks from its holder and tucks into his pocket. Simon steps away from the bouquet when you appear again.

Jealousy is stewing, showing its fangs, curling tighter around Simon’s ribs.

When you reach for him, Simon sweeps you off your feet, planting you on the kitchen island. You giggle, but Simon cuts it off, drawing you to the edge to seize your lips in a fierce kiss.

That jealous viper between his bones tells him to possess you.

Simon’s hands drop to your waist and then your hips. He settles himself between your legs, hands moving down to your bare thighs.

You’re flushed with embarrassment, attempting to hide your face from him, giggling his name as you fist his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” rasps Simon.

Your lips part and Simon slides his tongue inside. You moan, suck on his tongue, and release him. Simon’s grip on your thighs tightens.

“All day?” you ask softly.

Moving his hands to beneath your thighs, Simon tugs you into his arms and carries you over to the dining room table, but doesn’t place you on top of it. He brings you to your feet, and then his fingers curl around the shorts that are little more than underwear.

“Take these off.”

“Simon—”

“Do it,” he growls, releasing them and bringing his hand back to his side.

Slowly, you do as he says. You bring them up so that Simon can see them before tossing them to the side. That viper in him hisses, the venom leaking into his system.

Simon slides his hand between your thighs. You lean back against the table, hands resting on the edge as you part your legs. What his fingers find only makes him groan.

Withdrawing, Simon licks his fingers clean. “Turn around. Bend over the table. Show me what I want.” With a smirk on your lips, you face the table, and bend forward, going up on your toes.

Fuck the flowers and whoever sent them. You’re his.

Simon unbuckles the front of his belt, undoes the zipper of his pants, and frees his aching cock. He needs to be inside you, to hear you say his name, to feel you come around him. He needs to possess because it’s the only thing he can do right now.

Guiding with his hand, Simon rubs the head of his cock through your slickness. You’re already so wet for him—so fucking needy, and he’ll devour it all. Give you exactly what you want while taking something for him.

As he starts to slide in, you whimper. Reaching back, your hand grabs your ass, opening yourself a bit wider for him.

Bloody hell.

Simon doesn’t want to go slow. Using his grip on your hip, he slides all the way in, making you take him to the hilt with one forward thrust of his hips.

Your gasp is choked, and then Simon is lost, pounding into you as if this is the last time he’ll ever fuck you. It’s only your tightness, your breathy moans of pleasure, and the desperate why you say his name. It wraps around him, satiates the viper, calms the rising jealousy until it’s only you Simon can focus on.

Through the haze, Simon finds your clit, plays with it, slows his thrusts until your orgasm arrives, squeezing him so tight he almost finishes right then and there. But once that wave crests and crashes, Simon is back at it. Planting both hands on the table on either side of your waist, Simon stutters out, his lower back tensing, everything draw up.

Simon’s orgasm is an unraveling. All the tension melts as he finishes, and even then, he continues to thrust, pushing his cum deeper inside you. His chest heaves, body shuddering as he draws back a bit. Your breathing is just as labored.

Easing out of your body, Simon admires the bloom of cum at your entrance. He presses it back inside before helping you unbend from the table. Turning you around to face him, Simon claims your mouth in a deep kiss, his grasping the back of your head.

You form to him, and Simon’s hunger flares.

“To bed,” he says, drawing you away with a tug on your hair.

“To sleep?” you ask, smirking.

Maybe you did all this. Planned it all from the beginning.

Naughty girl.

Simon shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He releases you, and then smacks your ass for good measure. Squeaking, you scurry away toward the bedroom. Simon stands there for a moment, composing himself. Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws the business card. There is an address and a phone number.

Glancing over his shoulder at the bouquet, Simon comes to a decision. Stalking toward his duffle, Simon secures the business card in a side pocket. He’ll deal with this at work.

Right now, you’re getting undressed.

And Simon is much more interested in that.

Flowers can wait.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You send the final text and lock your phone, leaving it on the coffee table.

It’s just a little prank. A tease.

Kyle is always a gentleman even when he makes your toes curl and pulls unseemly sounds from between your lips. But riling him up can be just as fun. Kyle isn’t one to be jealous or even possessive of you. He’s certainly protective, and his presence always makes you feel safe, but you’re aching for something else right now.

The flowers weren’t all that expensive. And they are pretty.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it.

It buzzes again.

When you check the screen, you see two new texts from Kyle. You stare at it, and set it back down. You’re going to let him stew and question. If anything, Kyle might think the flowers innocent.

Tapping your fingers against your knee, impatience stirring in your belly, you stare out the patio door. You need to distract yourself, but the urge to look is too strong. Snatching the phone back up, you glance at the messages.

That’s sweet, love.

But I didn’t get you flowers.

Honesty. This man is terrible at lying or hiding his feelings.

You tap out a reply.

Of course you did! Loved the note you left with it!

Kyle’s reply is instant.

Note?

You nearly cackle at the ceiling and when you hit send.

I want you tonight. You know you can have me whenever lol. No need to send flowers about it.

Within seconds of you hitting send, you phone starts to vibrate. Yelping, you nearly drop the thing. Kyle’s name and a photo of him at the beach pop up on your screen. You stare at it, allowing it to go to voicemail. He calls again immediately.

You launch off the couch, pacing as the phone falls back into voicemail. It’s a bit thrilling knowing that Kyle is likely worked up on the other end.

Answer the phone, comes Kyle’s next text, and then, I’m coming home.

Oh shit.

You are all nervous excitement waiting for him. And when he does come barreling through the door, you’re a bit shocked at the sight of him.

Slowly, he shuts the front door, striding into the kitchen where the bouquet is. He stares at it for a long moment before turning his gaze on you.

“Kyle,” you say brightly, walking toward him.

He holds up a finger and walks past you. You hear the opening and shutting of doors, of drawers being opened, and items moving around. Kyle returns, hands on his hips, concern on his features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I didn’t send you those flowers.”

“Didn’t you?” you reply, innocently, moving toward them.

Kyle shoots forward and begins digging through the stems. “Where is that bloody card?” he mutters.

There is no card. No note. You made it all up.

“Kyle,” you say, but he ignores you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he says, ripping opening the plastic to see inside.

“Kyle,” you repeat, adding a bit of volume behind your voice.

Again, he ignores you, scattering the flowers across the countertop.

“When I find the fucking wanker that—”

“Kyle!”

He turns, eyes a bit wild. Kyle looks ridiculous, and you suddenly feel terrible. You reach for him, placing both hands on either side of his face. “There’s no note.”

Kyle blinks like he didn’t hear you correctly. “What?”

“There’s no note,” you repeat. “I bought the flo—”

Kyle groans loudly and places his entire hand over your face, muffling the last few words. “Bloody hell, baby girl.” He lightly pushes off, dropping his hand, and stepping back.

You grin sheepishly as Kyle crosses his arms over his chest.

“What was the goal?” he asks, leaning forward a bit.

You shrug your shoulders. “To rile you up?”

Kyle laughs, short and clipped. “Rile me up?”

“Yes,” you say slowly.

He leans in a bit more, a smirk on his face. “And what do you think was going to happen once you riled me up?”

You know that Kyle already knows the answer to this question. But he’s indulging you. As he always does.

“I didn’t think that far,” you reply, but it’s far from the truth.

You wanted to rile him up so that he’d come home and fuck you like a man possessed.

Kyle bites down on his bottom lip and you track the movement. “No, love. You did.” He straightens. “And I know what you want.”

Kyle steps into your space, his head dipping as if to kiss you but pausing just before. “You need a good throat fucking. I need an apology. And then I can give you what you want.”

“Kyle,” you breathe.

“On your knees, love. Present your mouth.”

You obediently drop to your knees, and part your lips.

“Wider,” he almost growls.

You do so just as Kyle reaches down and undoes the front of his belt. He doesn’t even look. Doesn’t flinch. The belt is gone and the front of his pants are open by the time Kyle grabs your face and brings you close.

“Tongue out.”

You do so, and Kyle taps the head of his cock against it before sliding it back and forth over your tongue. His hold shifts, falling to the nape of your neck.

“Take it like a good girl. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle draws you forward, forcing you to take all of him. Holding you in place for a few seconds, Kyle only eases you back once your gag reflex kicks in. Kyle adjusts his stance, and your hands grasp the sides of his thighs.

Kyle’s hand on the back of your neck tightens as his other hand tangles in your hair. Keeping you in place, he starts to thrust, fucking your mouth like he would your pussy. All you can do is cling to him, to hold on as he grunts above you.

There isn’t any anger there, just a stern brow and a need for control. It’s delicious. Entirely mouth-watering. Your core warms, a slickness blooming, indicating just how much this turns you on.

To bring Kyle toward his end, you make little sounds in your throat. It makes him stutter. It makes him moan. Beneath his pants, you feel the muscles in his legs tighten. And then he’s forcing you down his length, throating him entirely as he comes down your throat.

Breathing through you nose is the only thing holding you together. And when he slides you off, you cough, wiping at your lips.

Kyle’s hand caresses your cheek, drawing your gaze to him. He arches a single eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Reaching out, Kyle draws you up to your feet, bringing you close. His smile is soft, and when he comes in for a kiss, it is consuming.

“Now that you’ve riled me up,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Kyle pulls away, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

“Take off your clothes. Kneel on the bed. And bend over. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle drops his hand.

“That’s my good girl.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny’s ears are ringing.

“You better be bloody joking,” he growls at his phone.

On the screen is a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Flowers that you’re thanking him for. Flowers that he didn’t send.

And the card? Bloody fucking hell. That card is going in the shredder. Johnny will tear it apart with his own teeth if he has to. Some fucker had the bright idea to send you flowers like he’s the one you’re dating.

No. Fuck that.

Johnny might be the demolitions expert, but he knows Ghost could dig around for him if he asked. Scratch that. Johnny is asking right fucking now.

“Hey, Lt!” Johnny jogs over to Ghost and turns his phone around. “Can you trace who sent these flowers?”

Ghost’s expression behind the balaclava remains flat. “It’s a fucking photo, Johnny.”

Cursing under his breath, Johnny forwards the image to Ghost. Ghost checks his phone, enlarging the image.

He grunts. “Should be easy.” Ghost glances up from the screen. “Why?”

“Someone making a move on my woman,” replies Johnny, holding back a growl.

“Done,” says Ghost. “Give me a couple hours.”

It doesn’t take Ghost long, and Johnny has to laugh out loud.

“You fucking naughty thing,” mutters Johnny as he unlocks the door to your flat.

When he enters, you’re nearly on your toes, eager for him. It’s cute, but you need to learn first. Sure, the prank is harmless, but you were wanting a rise out of him.

Punishment is needed.

“Johnny,” you say brightly, coming around the counter to greet him.

As you arms reach for him, Johnny removes his belt. Your gaze drops, but he is faster than you. Johnny has the belt around your wrists and secured before you can even protest.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“Thought I wouldn’t find out?” Johnny tuts. He yanks you forward, bringing the two of you almost face-to-face. “Bought those flowers yourself.”

Johnny tugs on the belt again. You stumble into him and he spins you around. With another quick tug, Johnny has the belt looped onto one of the coat hooks embedded in the wall.

Reaching down, Johnny palms your ass, his lips pressed to your ear. “Got me all jealous at work. Had Ghost stalking the flower shop and everything.” He squeezes, and then smacks your ass. Hard.

You whimper. “Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, love.” He kisses your throat. Your skin is soft and he inhales, savoring your scent. You’re freshly showered, and the smell of your shampoo invades his nostrils.

It doesn’t take much to rid you of your underwear. It’s just you in an old shirt and your bare ass on full display. Johnny slides his hands between you clenched thighs.

“Spread them.”

You do so obediently and a primal part of him simmers with pleasure. Johnny slowly drops to his knees behind you. He savors the view, taking his time to enjoy the sight before him. Even from here, Johnny can see how slick you are. How wanton.

He’s going to devour you. Make you beg. Deny you what it is you most want until you’re a fucking mess for him. That’s punishment enough.

Johnny tests by running one finger over your pussy. It comes back glossy. He pops it into his mouth, groaning at your taste.

“Want me to eat this pretty pussy?” asks Johnny, running his finger over you again.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Please.”

That’s a start.

Johnny leans in, the tip of his tongue playing with your entrance. He traces it with his tongue before slipping inside, slowly fucking you with it. It’s not enough, but Johnny knows this. He needs to suck on your clit and give you his fingers to make you come.

But even then, you’ll have to wait.

You’ll have to beg.

Johnny trails upward, swirling his tongue, finding your clit. He teases it. Flicks it back and forth in a steady stroke. You’re already growing wetter. You’re already moaning above him. Too bad you don’t know what’s coming.

Johnny slides one finger inside of you, pumping twice before inserting a second. You’re tight around him. He can feel the stretch.

He works you slowly, lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy as he teases your clit with his tongue. Above him, your moans come unbroken and loud. It’s sweet. He loves the sound. But Johnny knows your tells, and when your muscles begin to clench and unclench quickly, he ceases all movement.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, glancing down.

Johnny chuckles. “You have to earn it love.”

“Johnny, please,” you beg.

“What’s that, love? Didn’t hear you?”

“Please,” you say, drawing it out.

“Please what?” he prompts.

“I want to come,” you murmur.

Johnny smirks and starts fucking you with his fingers again, but doesn’t put his mouth back on your clit. It’s not enough for you. You’re squirming. Wiggling. Needing more.

“You pull another stunt like this again, love, and this,” Johnny smacks your ass with a sharp thwack, “will be red.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny. Please. Just—please.”

Johnny teases your clit with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Beg some more.”

You do. All sorts of obscene things fall from your lips. When tears form in the corner of your eyes, Johnny finally gives you relief.

He fucks your gorgeous pussy with his fingers. He tastes and teases until you’re crying out, clamping around him as you come undone.

Johnny withdraws. Straightens.

You’re still hanging on the hook.

He frees you from it, but does not remove the belt from around your wrists. Johnny presses you against him with a flat palm upon your stomach.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs.

“I won’t.”

Johnny kisses your throat. “To bed.”

You frown, holding up your bound hands. “But the belt.”

“Stays on,” he says, fisting the tangling leather. “Until I’m done with you.”

John Price

John isn’t one for texting.

You’ll send him a barrage of texts only for him to call you hours later asking what you were texting him about.

Which is why you didn’t think this plan would work.

But then it did, and now you’re bent over John’s lap, bare ass in the air.

John told you that he was working late to catch up on paperwork. Whenever that happens, he always gives you a call to check-in and hear your voice. It’s routine at this point. A comfort. Most of the time, he just wants you on the other side, to have you talk about the day or whatever you want while he’s working. John will usually remain silent, listening, basking in your voice.

You planned it perfectly, knowing that he’d check his phone before giving you a call. You sent the photo of the flowers. A beautiful display really. And they were on sale. You also sent him a picture of the makeshift “note” that you made for it. All it said was “thinking of you” with no name. All of that was follow up by a “thank you” and promises to please him later.

John was calm when he called you—almost eerily so. When you thanked him from the flowers, he didn’t reply. He simply pushed past it. The thing is, John saved all of that energy up for when he came home.

Your ass stings. John rubs the spot he just smacked before squeezing.

“Now, love. Tell me the truth.” He says it so sweetly, like it’s such a simple thing.

And you don’t know how much longer you’ll last under this barrage.

“You bought them for me,” you whimper, keeping up the façade.

John shakes his head. “We both know that’s not true.” He squeezes your ass again, the sting burning slightly when he let’s go.

“I’d guess you’re seeing someone else but that would be lie. Wouldn’t it?”

He punctuates this statement by slipping his hand between your thighs, his fingers running over your pussy, parting your slickness. John dips one finger inside and then another, only to retreat and grab your ass cheek with the same hand.

“I know just how to make you wet, love. You have no one else to run to.”

“I told you—Fuck! John!” You jolt in his lap as his palm comes down on your already throbbing cheek.

“Be honest, love. Or you’ll get a few more.”

You swallow down your pride. You wanted him riled up, but you weren’t expecting this. Not for John to come home, strip you down, and bend you over his lap.

“I bought them,” you grumble.

John’s hand eases. “You what?”

“I bought them,” you snap.

“I knew you did.”

Before you have the chance to form a retort, John guides you up and into his lap. He grabs the front of your throat, bringing you close to him. He does not kiss you. He simply hovers.

“You’re going to straddle my lap and bounce on my cock until I fill you up. You understand?”

You nod, and Price let’s go of your throat.

“Get to it,” he purrs.

John is fully clothed, and you’re wearing nothing at all. You undo the clasp of his belt, pull the zipper, and he flexes his hips enough that you can work his pants down a bit. When his hard length is free to you, you straddle him, lining yourself up.

He remains impassive as you start to sink down. The stretch is perfect—as it always is, and you groan as you seat yourself entirely on his cock. Gripping his shoulders, you roll up and back down, rocking when you can to give your legs a break.

John still stays quiet but his gaze is assessing. Slowly, his hand comes around your neck again, and this time he squeezes slightly. It’s not to hurt. It’s to dominate and possess.

“Who do you belong to, love?” he asks.

“You,” you murmur, sinking down on him.

“Say it again,” repeats John.

“I belong to you,” you gasp, coming up and then back down.

“Again,” and this time there’s a growl in his tone.

“I’m yours, John.”

“Fucking right,” he says, crashing his mouth to yours.

The kiss is a claiming, one that shoots through your body and consumes your limbs and control. You shudder, pussy clenching, and then John is fucking up into you, his hands on your hips.

You’re no longer in control. It’s just John, and his need to possess.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess

@saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67

@tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @ninman82 @lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg

@yawning-grave81 @azkza @haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff

@cod-z @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic

@talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @suhmie

@ash-tarte @eternallyvenus @spookyscaryspoon @vrb8im @enarien

@nishim @lovely-ateez @thewulf @certainlygay @miaraei

@spicyspicyliving @kidd3ath @no-oneelsebutnsu @beebeechaos @lxblm

@jackrabbitem @jaggersinclair @dakotakazansky @daemondoll @keiva1000

[bweeeb]

PASSED OUT

Theodor Nott x you

Warnings: nothing much, very short, Theo being a little jealous, cute.

Summary: Where Theodore doesn't find his girlfriend the morning after a party.

it was past nine in the morning, and you were still missing after the party the night before. Pansy, Daphne, and you had managed to get your own private dorms at the beginning of the year, making it harder to know in whose bed any of you had passed out after taking several shots of totally mysterious drinks. However, you were the first to disappear from the party. You went up to the dorms because you started feeling too dizzy, and that’s why you ended up where you were now, lying with Mattheo's arms around you in his bed.

— Has anyone seen my girlfriend by any chance? She disappeared last night, and she's not in her room — Theo asked in the hall as the group walked towards the Slytherin common room.

— She vanished, maybe the Weasleys know — Draco joked, receiving a dirty look from Theodore.

— She’s not in any of our rooms — Pansy said, shaking her head.

— Did you check your room? — Daphne asked the boys.

— She's not there — Blaise denied, as his room was separate, being one of the seventh-year prefects.

— I would know if my girlfriend had slept in my room. Theo shook his head in disappointment.

— I didn't check because I slept in Astoria's room, but I think Mattheo went back there, so he would have told us if... uh, wait, Mattheo also didn’t show up — Draco cut himself off, giving a mischievous smile to Theodore, who looked irritated at Malfoy, licking his cheek impatiently.

— Shut up, Draco — Pansy pushed Draco, and the blond laughed, shrugging.

— Where could she be? — Without even thinking, when the group arrived at the common room, Theodore's steps lengthened to Draco and Mattheo’s room. The door was opened, and the sight of you and Riddle sleeping made Theo huff and cross his arms over his chest. She wouldn’t do anything... Theo thought, and he thought right.

With your eyes closed, you shifted in bed and softly sniffed the air, finding Theo’s scent in the room. Your hands rubbed your eyes, and as soon as they opened, the sight of Mattheo holding you made you frown slightly. It wasn’t unusual, but Theodore being at the same party as you would never let you go up alone and have Mattheo do it.

— What? — You murmured softly, and a groan came from the open door with your boyfriend looking as angry as the time you… actually, you couldn’t remember when he looked this mad. — Theo? — You said his name and sat up in bed quickly, looking at Mattheo's arms around your naked body. — Matt. Mattheo — You shook him with the intention of waking him up.

— What the fuck is this? — Theo asked, and you rubbed your face with your hands, groaning.

— I don’t know. Fuck, my head.

— Shh, go back to sleep, baby —. Mattheo murmured, and Theo’s face darkened.

— Shut up, Mattheo. You groaned pushing him away, but he was too sleepy to understand that the one he was grabbing was you and not some random girl he had slept with the night before.

— Get your hands off my girlfriend, Riddle — Nott moved forward, pulling Mattheo away from you and making Mattheo wake up on the floor.

— Dude, what’s this? Mattheo groaned and looked towards the bed, where you were without your clothes from the party last night. — Fuck, I didn’t fuck with her. Mattheo stepped forward, raising his hands.

— Nothing happened, Theo — You groaned, looking down to see yourself practically naked, you groaned once again and got up from the bed, walking over to your boyfriend with a pout on your lips.

— Why didn’t you come to me, Principessa?

— I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you, so I went to the room I thought was yours — You said with a headache, closing your eyes and resting your head on Theo’s chest. He hugged you, covering your semi-naked body.

— Idiot — Mattheo grumbled, throwing himself back onto the bed. — Your girlfriend is the best thing in the world to sleep cuddled with, Teddy bear. Her boobs are like pieces of cotton. Mattheo teased, and Theodore gave the middle finger to his friend, who smirked mockingly.

— Fuck you, Riddle. I'm hexing you until your next life.— he said, taking you to his own room, deciding what he would do with you.

--------

Requests are open✨

[imauthicktic]

I beg you, transformers x fem reader

I don’t care what you write or anything, i’m on my optimus and bumblebee obsession phase pookie please

For you pookie bear 😘💖💞

Bayverse!Optimus and Bayverse!Bumblebee x fem!reader

Description: How they react to your random silent treatment

A/N: Optimus' part is so freaking soft and sweet 🥺 and then Bee's is corny and cheesy fluff and this is just a short reaction to get back into the groove of writing again!!

Silence. The silence was killing them- they didn’t even know what they did wrong as they saw their precious human woman talking to Cade like it was no big deal that they hadn’t spoken to their lover in hours. They had thought maybe she just didn’t hear me or was too busy to notice. But that thought was quickly replaced when they noticed she was able to talk to everyone else just fine.

What they didn’t know was that (Y/N) was just testing their patience to see how long they could go before they got mad at her for playing such games.

Enough was enough.

Optimus:

Optimus POV

Optimus watched and waited until (Y/N) was alone to approach her so that she would be forced to talk to him. Optimus walked up to her before kneeling before her. He gently put his hand down for her to climb onto hoping that she would accept his silent invitation. When she climbed onto his hand he thanked the stars that she didn’t seem to be as mad as he thought she originally was. He then stood and walked away from the group enough to have some privacy as he spoke to her. 

Once at the spot that was hidden and far away enough, he sat down on the ground and held her up so he could look at her but her head was stubbornly turned away from him. Optimus sighed softly as he gently placed his finger under her chin and carefully turned her head to look at him. Longing shined in his optics. “Sweetspark… have I done something so wrong that you no longer wish to speak to me?” Optimus asked (Y/N) with his deep voice as his head gently moved to look her in the eyes.

(Y/N)’s POV:

Your heart ached as you looked at him and heard the genuine worry in his tone. The silent treatment was over for you the moment you saw and heard the hurt he tried so hard to hide. “No no no, Optimus- I-... I was just being childish- you did nothing wrong. Believe me, you did nothing-,” you rambled before he cut you off.

“But you have stopped speaking to me. You are not one to do such things without reason,” Optimus interrupted.

You tried to think of a reason that wouldn’t make him angry at you, “Bee told me to do it.” Really? Well, at least it’s believable. You think in your head as you give a sheepish smile and gently reach forward to cup his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Optimus. I didn’t realize how upset you would get,” you say softly as you place gentle kisses on his face making him close his eyes softly in relief. 

“Please don’t play such games again. My spark burns for you and you alone. It can’t accept you being so upset with me,” he says softly in an almost uncharacteristically soft way.

“I promise. Do you forgive me?” you ask.

“Of course.” He says as he gently touches his forehead to yours.

Bumblebee:

(Y/N)’s POV

You were just saying goodbye to Cade as you walked away and towards the rest of the group. Unbeknownst to you, Bee was watching with desperate eyes as he waited for you to come to him, but when he saw you walk the opposite way he became frustrated.

You were walking while looking at your phone when you heard a quiet whine and then loud footsteps that came rushing up behind you before you could even react, you were lifted up by Bee before he quickly transformed into the Camaro where you’re in the driver’s seat and buckled in before he speeds off at high speeds into the desert. You let out a yelp at the sudden and quick change as you watch the speedometer climb. 

“Bee! What are you doing?! You’re going too fast!” You say slightly panicked as you hold onto the door handle and the armrest desperately. 

“Shouldn’t have ignored me, babygirl,” Bee’s radio said as he changed through the stations to communicate his frustration, “now we ride!” he finished before purposefully swerving and doing donuts in the empty desert making you let out a shriek and a loud nervous laugh realizing how annoyed he was by your silent treatment.

“Ok! Ok! I’m sorry, Bee! I- I’m going to be sick!” you say between giggles as he finally stops and transforms into his humanoid form with you cupped in both of his hands as he rubs his mouthpiece against your face affectionately in a playful manner. 

“My honeypie, my sugarpie, my princess, my babygirl, my hot mama!” his radio blasted as he switched through channels making you laugh out loud as you grabbed his head and kissed his mouth piece over and over in loving affection. 

“You’re so annoying- you know that? You’re lucky you’re cute and I love you so much,” you say to him as you look into his eyes with a softened, fond smile.

“I’m lucky I have ya darlin’,” his radio switched to a cowboy accent that spoke so softly making the moment more loving and intimate.

Lmk what y'all think!!

[seungfl0wer]

*Teach Me*

Parings: Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Pure smut with some crack

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Multiple creampies, multiple round, hint at breeding, mentions of masturbation, Hyunjin was a cat turned human. F Receiving, Not proofread. (I think that’s all?)

Link to the request Here. Such a good request uuugh thank you so much for this one. I hope you enjoy it!

A much asked for part two is here: “To much kitten?”

-🩵

You signed to yourself cleaning up the mess your new cat had just made. You left the room for 5 minutes to grab your brush just to come back to your cat knocking your positions off the shelf. You started to clean everything up the cream colored cat meowing at you. “Did you have to break them all?” You said glaring at him. You had just brought him home a few weeks ago, finding him alone in the forest where he would surly get eaten by a werewolf or worse.

The playful cat had jumped from where you had placed him away from all the mess to your back. You shook a bit trying to get him to come down to you to grab. He slipped down your side falling into a puddle of mixed positions. You quickly grab him, not knowing what he had fallen in or the reaction it might have. You quickly tried cleaning him and placed him in the bathtub where he couldn’t escape. He sat in there crying but you had to clean everything up. The potions themselves were harmless however mixing them together could cause anything honestly.

After you had everything cleaned you decided to run a bath for you and your kitty. Was he gonna like it? Honestly you had no idea you haven’t tried before. So you ran a nice warm bath for the both of you holding him in your arms as you slipped into the tub. Weirdly enough he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t seem like he wanted to venture away from you but laying on your chest with the warm water touching him, he seemed calm.

You closed your eyes relaxing into the warmth. And then you hear a poof. Before you could open your eyes you heard the water spilling out of the tub. A hand grazed your side and you could feel legs between your own. You opened your eyes only to find your cute little cat turned into a human.

Eyes wide staring at the naked man above you. He looked like he was in shock he couldn’t move and your body was almost frozen as well. Both of you were literally naked in the tub together. You looked over him eyes wondering his body. His blonde hair plastered to his face. His muscles stiff as he held himself in place and his- “no no do not look” you said to yourself eyes back up to his face. You didn’t even have to look you could feel his cock laying on your leg. Your body was flushed pink it felt like hours had passed but it had only been about 5 minutes.

“Before you say anything just know this is your fault” you said looking up at the man. He tilted his head “maybe don’t have so many bottles around a cat” he rolled his eyes back at you. “So we just gonna stay here naked together?” He said with a smirk. You quickly pushed him off grabbing a towel for yourself rapping it around you. “Here’s a towel dry yourself off while I see if I have clothes for you.” You said leaving the bathroom.

What the fuck just happened. The potions that had combined must have turned him into a human. Of course they did. Just your luck you find a cute animal and it turns out to be a pretty man. You rummage through your closet finding an oversized shirt of yours and some basketball shorts he could wear for now. You came out to find the man in the living room, He was butt ass naked looking out the window.

“Someone gonna see you.” You said handing him the clothes “put these on ok?” He nodded putting the clothes on and going back to looking out the window. You sat down looking on your phone any answers you could find. It turns out it’s more common than you think. The man will still act cat like, go through a lot of the same motions but will stay human.

You sighed at least knowing this wasn’t just you being dumb. He turned to you “it’s dinner time!” He said walking over to you. He was right, this is the time you always feed him. “Alright but I don’t think you’ll like your dry food anymore, how about I make us some fish?” You said his eyes lighting up like little stars twinkling in the night sky. You quickly head to the kitchen you hungry yourself to start cooking. You made fish with a small bowl of rice and broccoli. The man before you sat close to you watching your every move. “By the way as much as I like the name star, my names hyunjin.”

After dinner he had curled up on the couch falling asleep. You took this opportunity to run to the store quickly. You grabbed him some clothes and a few other things he may need running back to the house. As you opened the door you were met with a tackle. Hyunjin had his arms wrapped around you tightly “you could have at least told me you were leaving, I got scared” he said softly looking up at you with those big eyes.

“I’m sorry hyune you were sleeping so peacefully so I wanted to grab you stuff.” You said putting the bags down. He released his grip on you crossing his arms “you always leave when I’m sleeping” he said in a huff which made you laugh a bit “well yeah it’s the only time you are actually peaceful and not destroying stuff.” You teased.

-🩵

A few weeks had passed since your cat had been turned human and it wasn’t too bad honestly. It was nice having someone to talk to when you were home that could actually talk back now.

You had noticed though hyunjin spending sometime in the bathroom. It made you wonder why? What exactly was he doing. He’d always come out with his cheeks all flushed. You stared at him this time as he came back to the couch “are you just like taking a massive shit or something?” You half teased half wondering if that’s what it was.

He just looked at you confusion plastered his face before he started busting out laughing “what the fuck did you just ask me” Tears pricking the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. “Why do you keep going to the bathroom then you asshole.” You teased throwing one of the pillows at his face. “You really think I’m going to the bathroom that much? I mean your cooking is kinda bad but not that bad.” He teased tossing the pillow back at you.

“You really wanna know what I’m doing?” He said tilting his head looking at you. Not giving you a moment to second guess yourself “I’m in there fucking my hand” he said teasing as he made the hand motion. You were the one now confused but also in shock? He continued “I still have all the animal desires y/n I can’t help being around you and your smell makes me go feral. The slightest touch from you sometimes is enough to just send me into a frenzy. So I excuse myself to the bathroom. Honestly it’s probably worse right now cause heat is coming.” He rambled.

“First of hyunjin, most people don’t come right out and say they were masturbating. Second of all you went to the bathroom like 4 times yesterday.” You said still kind of confused. “Why can’t I say that? What’s it matter if people know? Us cats just take care of ourselves.” He states himself now looking confused “hyune you’re a human now though and you can’t just say that especially if others are around.”

You sat there discussing things, not realizing there were things he may not know about being human. Things you thought were just explanatory like no peeing outside or scarfing down your food so the others can’t have any. He sat there listening to you and asking questions “so what about mating?” He asked “I’ve never seen you with a mate but I’ve seen you use that little vibrator in your dresser. How come you get to touch yourself and I can’t?”

You had forgotten you’ve touched yourself while he was in the room. I mean fuck he was a cat then you didn’t know this would all happen. He stared at you for a split second before leaning into you “Since you’re teaching me about all human things, can you teach me how to properly mate with you?” He said eyes going from your lips back up to your gaze. “I uhm-“ you stutter out before he presses his body against yours. “Guide me or I’ll do things how I know to do them.”

The beautiful man inches away from your lips, his big brown eyes staring so lustfully at your hands on your hips ready to take you. It’s been a long time since you’ve had sex let alone even a damn kiss. You put yourself so fully into your studies lately you hadn’t had time for dating. Here was this sexy man wanting nothing more than you, were you going to pass on the opportunity? I guess not. Because before you could question anything hyunjin was kissing you sloppily pushing you down into the couch to be over top of you.

He kisses were wet and messy, his tongue lapping at the inside of your mouth twirling your own tongue. He was definitely gonna need to be shown how to kiss better but it was hot at the moment. His hand rushed over your body feeling every inch of it as he rutting against you. His clothed cock felt so painfully hard. He positioned himself so his cock was now at your clothed cunt. He moved his hips more earning a moan from you. He kissed down your jaw to your neck sucking on it harshly. Fuck. He groaned out by your ear. “Please” he said voice raspy.

“Please what?” You asked a bit confused to what he was asking. He sighed “please actually help me, this is you know different from what I’m use to. I’m gonna need help finding uhm- where to put myself.” He said his face blushed you couldn’t tell if it was from his question or just cause he was turned on. Either way it was so cute.

You smiled at him softly “alright, take your pants off then.” You said and as soon as those words left your mouth he was stripping so fast. You were about to pull your clothes off before he grabbed your pants “let me help you with that.” He said his eye’s looking hungry. As soon as he got your pants off he dived into your soaking cunt. The contact was so fast your brain went fuzzy. He lapped up all your juices, licking you clean before looking up at you.

His eyes were hazy looking he murmured out “where’s the spot?” He asked “the uhm the thing” he said he was confused himself. “What?” You chuckled a bit “the clit?” He questioned “I saw it on one of your videos the girl said “yes suck my clit” isn’t that like your spot?” He asked. You smiled at him sweetly showing him what he was talking about “this is it it’s a very sensitive part of a female it’s like how males like you have a sensitive tip.” You said now pointing at the tip of his cock. He nodded understanding completely what you meant.

He quickly went back to licking small licks up your folds now stopping at your clit to suck on it. As you showed him that you also showed him where to in his words “stick it.” You could feel him bring his fingers up slowly playing with your entrance as he ravished the cunt. God for it being his first time he was way too good at it. “I’ve never tasted anything better not even the salmon could compare.” He said almost looking drunk off of your cunt. “And those sounds you were making fuck, I could cum just off that.” He said his free hand now stroking himself.

He continued eating you out like a hungry animal he was bringing you close to your release his hands steadily fucking you he could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. “Fuck y/n you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” He breathed out looking up at you “your eyes look the same way they did when you came on the vibrator.” All you could do was nod yes at him, his pace picking up as he let go of his cock to move his hand to your clit.

Everything together brought you to your high fast your legs shaking, walls fighting around him you were moaning his name loudly. Your hand grabbing ahold of his head pulling you as your high washed over you. Cuming on his tongue he let out a moan feeling warmth on your leg. His body jolted a bit as you noticed he had also came. He had came hearing you say his name so sinfully, the taste of you brought him over the edge.

Your body felt like jello, legs shaky as he lapped up every little drop of you before coming up. His hair slicked back stuck to his forehead, those beautiful pillowy lips red from all the movement. You both looked so fucked out of your minds.

He got his second wind pretty fast, he wrapped his arms around you brining your body to his before flipping you over to your stomach. Your body was still to tired so he quickly placed a pillow under you making sure that nice ass of yours was displayed so nicely for him. He stroked himself a few times already hard again after cuming. God how was he so hard again. He quickly found your entrance pushing himself into you. You both let out the most lustful sinful moans the feeling of your walls around him had him trying not to cum already. The size of him filled you up so nicely could almost feel him on your stomach. If he fucked you like this there was no way you wouldn’t get pregnant.

He stayed still for a second just taking in how good you felt before moving a bit. Just the feeling alone of you he couldn’t help himself he pushed into you a couple times before his body shook. He was already cuming again. The sensation of his hot liquid filling your walls already had you moaning loudly. You didn’t want it to end yet but how could he go again after cuming twice in the span of a few minutes? Well don’t underestimate the power of a horny cat man.

He gave himself a few seconds his cock still hard inside you before moving. He was such a mess on top of you, both of you sweaty and sensitive. He fucked into you so sloppily the cum acting as lube letting him glide in and out. The noises of skin slapping filled the room. His hands digging into your hips pulling him as far into you as he possible could. He moved down his body against you back leaving small kisses as his hand found its way back to your clit.

He rubbed your clit as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. He fucked into you so deep you could feel his tip hitting your cervix. His hand that was on your him now wrapped around your body. His movements became fast feeling your walls tighten around him “Hyune I’m- fuck I’m cumming” you almost scream out his hand moving fast against your clit, his hips sloppily moving before he came deep inside your walls. He sucked small purple marks on your neck, bitting softly from time to time.

“I don’t wanna move” he said arms gripped around you tightly “feels to good, wanna stay buried inside you forever” he said voice low. You hum at the thought still feeling him twitching inside of you. “Damnit” he said softly pulling himself up “I gotta fucking pee” he said whining as he pulled himself out of you. The cum dripping out as he whined even more at the sight. He quickly ran to the bathroom you sat up rubbing your head, body still feeling weak.

“Alright I’m back, what are you doing?” He asked as you were cleaning yourself up. “Cleaning up” you said in a questioning tone. He whined a bit before sitting down on the couch “why you doing that for when we are just gonna get messy again?” He asks pulling you backwards making you sit down on his lap. You could feel his cock pressed against your folds “how the fuck are you hard again?” He blurted out. “Can’t help it you’re to hot.” He shrugged moving you as he pushed himself back into you. “We don’t even have to do anything I just wanna stay like this” he said wrapping his arms around you to pull you fully down around his cock.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to sit here and not try anything” you teased. He laughed a bit “probably not but hey I don’t think you’re complaining.” He teased back kissing your cheek. And he knew he was right you both did but you weren’t gonna admit to it.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[sagelasters]

scientific study on the void state

For decades, people have thought sleeping is a momental period or pause where both the body and mind is asleep. When I stopped remembering my dreams, I recalled seeing just pitch black in my sleep, and I never thought much about it until I started getting into the void and loa in general. It’s strange how my mind remembered those moments of nothingness and pure darkness, they were briefly short but I came to the conclusion that every single one of us has been in a void state. Whether or not you remembered it, maybe you do, maybe for a split second you were enveloped in pitch blackness till you woke up. Most of us brush off these strange phenomenals, but here’s the real question: Is it possible to be aware in your sleep? The answer is yes, our subconscious mind is fully awake even in your sleep. I think one of the most interesting scientific experiments I’ve read was an interview in 2022, it explores the ‘objectless awareness’ in our sleep. 

There were about 38 participants in the experiment, in which they were given a word to mentally spell and then they were interviewed based on that specific spelling. This is to measure participant’s memory accuracy, just to make sure they didn’t fabricate or make up any descriptions in the experiment. When participants pass the first round, they are given a survey if they have experiences of being conscious in their sleep. The result is that some participants recalled to lack any bodily sensations or imagery, one person reported that they lost the sense of being ‘themself’ but they identified as a ‘light’ or ‘orb’. Another person reported that after being in the state of nothingness, they were shaken up and brought to another ‘dream scenery’. Others recalled that their thoughts were completely non-existent in this state and they are aware of being ‘transitioned’ to what they called the ‘black spot’ and ‘nothingness state’. 

The chart summarizes what the participants experience in their sleep, the ‘nothingness phase’ seems to be the middle ground between regular sleeping state, to hypnagogia (transition between being awake and sleep, you experience sleep paralysis and muscle jerks in this stage). Most participants were unable to recall what happened after they transitioned out of the ‘nothingness phase’. The following is what they said:

Participant 1

"So, this sensation of nothing was letting me know that I was still in a dream, because I made the comparison to, I cannot feel any of my limbs. So, I know that I’m not just in bed right now with my eyes closed. Because none of my body’s there."

Participant 2

"I no longer have an idea of a body.. a dream body at that point. And then I [emphasis] became or was this just like this little ball of light, […]. So like I knew that the sphere of light was ME, but also like the light that was around the sphere was me, […] Once I become the sphere, you are asking if I have any body perception? I do not have any at that point […] having a dream body is just completely gone."

Participant 9

“And then, and then all of a sudden, there was just nothing I could not, I’ve gone from, from my body, I guess. And I’ve had other bodies before and this felt very, very, very different where I did not like there was no dream body, no dream scene. No, no ANYTHING. It almost seems like a form about a body. But it almost seems like you are, you are caught between, caught between somewhere where you are trying to get in and the physical, you are, you are somewhere else. […] And so, so I was able to feel that I guess.” 

Participant 8

“It’s more like I was the void. ”

Participant 12

" It’s just total darkness. And you…, there’s very little difference between you and what’s around you. ”

Well didn’t that blow your mind away? This probably raises more questions on more phenomenal that modern science has no idea about, considering the fact that we just discovered our sense of awareness is still on even in our sleep. 

Citation

Alcaraz-Sánchez A, Demšar E, Campillo-Ferrer T, Torres-Platas SG. Nothingness Is All There Is: An Exploration of Objectless Awareness During Sleep. Front Psychol. 2022 Jun 10;13:901031. doi: 10.3389/fpsyg.2022.901031. PMID: 35756253; PMCID: PMC9226678.