#listen to your body seek professional help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

turtletaubwrites · 9 months ago

Text

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time.

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body.

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard.

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously.

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate.

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone.

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon.

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands.

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room.

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down.

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers.

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you.

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes.

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table.

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking.

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen.

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately.

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…”

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before.

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.”

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment.

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside.

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to.

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement.

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you.

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders.

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him.

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good.

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises.

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay.

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did.

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit.

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax.

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him.

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face.

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions.

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

#cw dark content #cw yandere #cw doctors #trafalgar law smut #eventual smut #trafalgar law x reader #one piece smut #reader insert #fem!reader #x reader #turtletaub fics #one piece x reader #trafalgar law fanfiction #fic requests #use of y/n #cw chronic pain #cw medical #smut

418 notes · View notes

valsvalentine · 3 months ago

Text

HEATHER

Obanai Iguro x fem!reader

ʚ summary. Loving someone who already has eyes for another hurts, especially when that person unknowingly plays with your feelings like it’s nothing

ʚ warning. manga spoilers, unreciprocated love, mentions of death, not proof read

ʚ genre. angst

‘I still remember, 3rd of december, me in your sweather’

It was a cold december morning, you were heading home from a mission completely worn out and chilled to the bone since you underestimated the harshness of the cold, being thankful for the uniforms frabric that kept you at least a bit warmer. Leaving behind your haori wasn’t really something you planned on doing but a civilian got in the midst of your fight which ended up in them getting injured. You tended to their wounds, wrapping pieces of your haori tightly against the deeper cuts before telling them to go to the nearest doctor to seek professional help.

Your vision was a bit blurred by the falling snow and it didn’t look like it was going to stop any time soon. You thought about if you would make it to your own mansion before succumbing to hyperthermia, concluding that your home was just too far to get there in these conditions. You remembered your fellow hashira, Iguro Obanai lived nearby so you resorted to going his way in hopes of him taking you in for the day. The walk was only a few minutes from where you were, walking on the territory with what little strength you had left you saw the chimney emitting smoke which was a sign somebody really was home. You opened the sliding doors, warmth enveloping you, slowly unfreezing your limbs that you could barely move just a moment ago. Footsteps alerted you, looking up to see the one and only serpent hashira right before you. He glared towards you, his snake hissing in disgust. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” He snapped, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t you know it’s rude to intrude into someone’s home?”

You bowed your head in respect before speaking; “I truly am sorry for invading your space, I was heading back from a mission when I got caught in the snowstorm outside, I was hoping you’d let me stay until the weather calmed down?” You pleaded with a hint of desperation in your eyes.

He scoffed, motioning for you to come in before leaving your sight. “Only until the snow dies down, not a second longer L/N.” He threatened and you smiled softly, taking off your snow covered shoes and followed him inside.

He sat down on the tatami matted floor, a cup of tea in his hands as you sat across front him. A wave of awkwardness suffocated the both of you, Obanai looking anywhere but at you while you fiddled with your fingers. He noticed the way your body shook, furrowing his brows once more. “Where are your winter clothes? And your haori?” You explained how you had to leave behind the piece of clothing, as well as how you underestimated the weather which he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at. “You’re quite foolish, you know? Who would’ve guessed that you’re a hashira.” He spat, standing up and leaving the room without another word.

He was right, it really was foolish to go out in such inappropriate clothing considering it was winter. He came back with a cup of tea and placed it in front of you, taking off his haori which he neatly draped over your shoulders. The tips of his ears were red and his snake looked at you now with a bit of a softer look than when it first saw you a few moments ago. You thanked the man, sipping on the tea as you told him about your mission in more detail while he listened quietly, not really being much of a talker like you were.

‘You said it looked better on me than it did you.’

The time slowly came for you to go on your way, thanking the man before heading to put your shoes on, grabbing your sword and putting it back onto the right side of your waist. You noticed you still had his haori and stuttered out an apology; “Oh I almost forgot, apologies and thank you for letting me borrow—” “Keep it, you can give it back the next time we cross paths.” He cut you off and you looked at him with doe eyes before smiling. “Alright, thank you so much Iguro-san.” You waved him goodbye and went on your way, a hint of blush on your cheeks.

“Only if you knew how much I liked you.”

It was no secret that you had eyes for the serpent hashira, he caught your eyes ever since your first ever joined mission and after that day your heart couldn’t help but flutter every time you locked eyes with him. You discussed your little crush with Shinobu, well more like you talked her ear off about him while she mostly just listened since she didn’t quite know how to help you with your little crush.

“Just don’t let yourself get hurt L/N-san, almost everyone is certain he has eyes for the love hashira, Mitsuri Kanroji.”

She said with a hint of worry in her voice, watching your shoulders slowly slump. You smiled, a bit of a sad smile really, before speaking up; “It’ll be fine, I’m sure it won’t hurt to try?”

‘But I watch your eyes as she walks by. What a sight for sore eyes. Brighter than the blue sky.’

A hashira meeting was held not long after your mission, you folded the haori gifted to you by Obanai before going on your way to the Ubuyashiki residence.

You were one of the first ones there with Shinobu, chatting for a bit before everyone else arrived. You slipped away from the insect pillar and walked to Obanai with his haori in hand. “Good morning Iguro-san!” You greeted cheerfully before handing him his haori back. He nodded, putting it back on before properly greeting you. “Good morning L/N.” He said and you started talking to him about what you think the meeting was about, he listened with softened eyes but averted his gaze from you once someone arrived. You went silent, thinking the master had started the meeting but you were proven wrong when you saw the pink and green haired woman talking to Rengoku. She was as lively as ever, smiling from ear to ear, the kind of smile that always managed brighten up the room.

Your mood shifted, thanking Obanai one last time before walking back to Shinobu who looked at you with an ‘I told you so’ kind of expression.

‘She’s got you mesmerised while I die.’

‘Why would you ever kiss me?’

‘I’m not even half as pretty. You gave her your sweater, it’s just polyester but you like her better..’

You noticed the way Mitsuri’s form shook from the cold; ‘Somebody should really get her a better uniform.’ You think to yourself, pitying the poor woman as she sneezed, quickly stuttering out an apology to the master before rubbing her hands together.

A black and white striped haori suddenly draped over her shoulders, the same haori you had on just a few days ago yourself. You looked down, jealousy eating at you as the tight feeling in your chest only worsened. You heard Mitsuri gush over the sweet gesture, giggling to herself as Obanai stood next to her for the rest of the meeting.

‘..I wish I were Heather.’

That day you cried in Shinobus embrace, a feeling of anger and envy blinding you as she told you the same thing over and over again. “I told you so.”

‘Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand. Put your arm ‘round her shoulder, now I’m getting colder.’

The two only got closer and closer since that day, Obanai even gifting her a pair of socks which Mitsuri wore every day. You watched from the side, your feelings never seizing as your joined missions with Obanai never really stopped either. You were a lot less talkative with him which didn’t go unnoticed by the man, but he never had the guts to ask what was up.

Every single time you were waiting for him so you could be on your way, he’d be reading a letter Mitsuri sent or was talking to her directly leaving you to your thoughts as they said their goodbyes.

‘But how could I hate her? She’s such an angel.’

Mitsuri ran towards you, hugging you tightly as you were about to leave for quite a dangerous mission. “L/N-san please be safe! I’ll cook up a bunch of food for when you get back, okay? What’s your favourite? I’ll make sure to make that for you!” She rambled as she clung to you. “Thank you Kanroji-san but that really isn’t necessary.” You patted her back awkwardly, smiling softly at her kind nature.

‘But then again, kind of wish she were dead.’

“Do you think Iguro-san will like my cooking? I’m not really sure, he’s so mysterious I can’t help but be curious! Ahh, he’s just so cute!” She gushed, blush on her cheeks as she talked about the very man you loved so much. You pushed her away, turning around to join Obanai who was waiting for you. “I’m sure he will, goodbye Kanroji-san.”

‘As she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes.’

‘Brighter than the blue sky.’

‘She’s got you mesmerised, while I die.’

You stayed over at the serpent hashiras mansion after getting back from your mission, attending to your wounds in the bathroom as the both of you got ready to head over to Mitsuris. You dreaded going, but how could you deny the sweet girl when she went through the trouble of cooking you both food?

Obanai entered the bathroom, looking at you wrapping the bandages sloppily around your bruised waist. He made a ‘tsk’ sound and snatched the bandages from you, holding your waist as he carefully wrapped them around the damaged area. You couldn’t help but blush at the gesture, your knees growing weak as butterflies erupted in your stomach. His touch was gentle, his hand going up and down your waist, unconsciously caressing it. He pulled away once he finished, flicking your forehead before turning to leave. “Come on, Kanroji is waiting.”

‘Why would you ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty.’

‘You gave her your sweather, it’s just polyester. But you like her better..’

Walking there felt like forever, the tension between the two of you only rising after the incident in the bathroom. It left you only longing for more, to feel more of his gentle touches but you knew that wouldn’t be possible. Finally you stood in front of the mansion that belonged to the love hashira, entering her home as the smell of all kinds of food filled your lungs. Mitsuri came into view shortly after you entered, running to envelop the both of you into a group hug. You awkwardly patted her back, squirming out of her arms as it sickened you to be so close to the two people that made your heart ache so badly every single day.

The food was delicious, you yourself didn’t quite know how to cook since nobody was ever there to teach you. You feasted quietly as the pair in front of you chatted, well like always Obanai was just listening while Mitsuri talked about all kinds of things.

You noticed his hand on top of hers, your apetite fading as you put down your utensils. Mitsuri frowned, concerned since you just stopped eating so abruptly. “L/N-san is everything okay? Is the food not to your liking?” She asked, standind up from her seat. You shake your head, getting up and bowing your head. “It was wonderful Kanroji-san, I just don’t feel too well is all.” You say and turn to leave. “I’ll head out now, thanks again for the meal.” You smile, waving at the both of them as Obanai just stared, the slightest bit of concern in his eyes as you walked out the door.

‘..I wish I were Heather.’

The battle with Muzan ended, you fell unconscious after a long fight with the upper rank two which you fought alongside with Tanjiro Kamado and Giyuu Tomioka. You woke up in the butterfly mansion, a place you were very familiar with since you would spend most of your free time with Shinobu. You sprung out of bed, running to said womans office but it was empty. Confused, you walked through the endless halls, trying to find anyone but no one was in sight. Finally in the gardens a Kakushi came into view so you greeted them. The person was startled, dropping everything they had in their arms as they rush over. “L/N-san you— you’re awake!” They exclaim and you nod, raising a brow.

“Yes, alive and well? Is there something wrong with that?” You ask and they quickly stutter out apologies, bowing their head. “No, no I really am happy to see you awake, you’ve been knocked out cold for 4 days!” Your eyes widen; 4 days? That really isn’t normal. You nod, the reason you were out for so long was probably exhaustion from the battle so you calmed your nerves. “Well nevermind that, I am awake now so no use weeping about it anymore. Where is everyone? Did they already wake up before me?” You ask, a hint of innocence behind your question.

The Kakushi gulped, an obvious shift in their mood as you asked the question. “L/N-san.. I’m sorry..” They stated, putting a hand on your shoulder. “What? What are you talking about? Why are you sorry?” You raise your voice a bit out of frustration, why can’t they just tell you like a normal person?

A hint of sympathy graces their eyes as they begin to tear up. They struggle to make up a sentence as they choke on their sobs; “Mitsuri Kanroji, Gyomei Himejima, Genya Shinazugawa, Muichiro Tokito, Shinobu Kocho..” No. This couldn’t be happening. They can’t be.. right? They’re just badly injured and still out like you were just a few minutes ago. Right? A name you prayed that wouldn’t be said slipped from their lips as you fell onto your knees, tearing up slowly. “..Obanai Iguro, have all fallen in battle.” They said as they crouched down next to you, rubbing your back in hopes to bring you some sort of comfort. You sobbed, why were they taken away from you? Shinobu, Obanai.. even Muichiro for gods sake. Why did they have to die? You mourned the loss of your fellow comrades, praying this was all just a horrible nightmare.

‘Wish I were Heather.’

You remember the moment you all got teleported into the Infinity castle, you yourself getting stuck with Tanjiro and Giyuu, your heart breaking once more as you saw Mitsuri and Obanai together. The last time you ever locked eyes with him, and the first time he ever yelled your name with such concern it broke you to pieces. “Y/N!” He yelled and tried to reach out to you but you were just too far. Maybe if you got stuck with the two of them.. one of them would be alive right now. But then again maybe they’d just sacrifice you so they would get out alive instead of you, living their happily ever after together.

You were later informed they would have a burial that day, which you attended along with Giyuu, Sanemi, Kanao, Tanjiro and his now human sister Nezuko and a few others you didn’t quite recognise.

‘Why would you ever kiss me?’

‘I’m not even half as pretty.’

‘You gave her your sweater, it’s just polyester but you like her better..”

You watched as they buried Obanai and Mitsuri together, Mitsuri in Obanais embrace from which they couldn’t get her out from. They decided it would be best to let them finally rest together, hence why they were burying them together. Together even after death, how much did the gods want to rub into your face that the man you fell in love with had eyes for another? You felt ashamed that you were envious at such a heartbreaking moment, but something inside you just kept wishing to switch places with the pink haired girl, to be in his arms for the first time and feel his love that he chose to give Mitsuri. Just maybe, if things were different, you’d be the one being buried in the embrace of your lover at this very moment. ‘Maybe in another lifetime.’

‘..Wish I were..”

165 notes · View notes

reidsdimples · 7 months ago

Text

Strictly Professional | Part 2

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+❤️‍🔥

You're hooking up with your coworker, Spencer Reid. Someone at the BAU knows.

Part 1

"No way, you are not getting out of this. You have nowhere else to be, you have to tell us what's been going on with you," Penelope grips your arm with a playfully smile. JJ and Prentiss cross their arms, they agree that something is off.

"It's nothing," you groan. The guys are talking on the back patio after everyone met up for Italiano at Rossi's. You sip your wine and make sure not to trail your eyes over to where Spencer is leaning against the balcony, lost in conversation.

The two of you have been very careful for the last two weeks, not hooking up after the exchange in the intel closet at work. The girls were picking up on your distracted behavior, perhaps even your frustration at him keeping his distance. You'd rather them think you're upset though, than suspect what's really going on- or was going on.

"Come on, spill," Prentiss prods. Her devastating smile was contagious.

"I-" you pause to think. "Things ended with someone I was casually dating."

"Ouch, that's not good. I'm sorry chica," Penelope hugs you.

"Perks of the job," JJ sighs sympathetically.

You're attention is drawn towards the patio when Morgan sprints past the window with Spencer strapped to his back. Hotch's face is in his hand and Rossi is smiling wide. Before you know it all of you are laughing and headed outside to join them.

"Listen here kid, next time I'm going to throw you off," Morgan is standing above Spencer who is sprawled on his back in the grass and laughing.

"I'm not even gonna ask," Prentiss smiles at them.

Morgan takes Spence's hand and hauls him back up before taking him into a playful headlock. These are the moments that heal the team's souls, where the bonding happens, and the trauma of the job falls away for just a moment.

You all chatter amongst yourselves, allowing the evening to float on by in blissful wine fueled companionship. You and Reid converse casually within the group but he makes no effort to joke with or seek you out directed for conversation. You worry his avoidance will draw attention but no one else seems to notice.

"I think I need to stop," you giggle as you set the empty wine glass down.

The effects go straight to your head and relax your body. The issue with wine for you though is that it makes you keenly aware of that sensitive spot between your legs. Even your thighs rubbing together is torture to your heightened senses. You cut yourself off because you are beginning to notice Spencer far more.

The way he stands and shifts his weight onto one leg, the fighting of his fingers, the way his tongue darts across his bottom lip on occasion when he's about to talk... if you let yourself notice those things, well...

"Hey you okay?" Garcia asks, snapping you out of your daydream.

Reid notices you staring before you turn to Garcia.

"Yeah, zoned out," your cheeks heat.

"Alright who's sober enough to drive me and Y/N home?" She announces to the group.

"I can drive," you protest. You know you probably shouldn't. JJ and Prentiss are leaning on each other laughing at some unknown joke, faces bright red, and they're both swaying. They aren't even aware of the conversation at hand.

"I'll take these two," Morgan places a hand on Prentiss' and JJ's shoulders.

"Reid, you take them home," Rossi instructs towards you and Garcia. You groan under your breath which catches Hotch's attention. Reid raises his eyebrows and half turns towards the two of you, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I need to have a word with you," Hotch tells Rossi. It's implied that it's to take place after you all leave.

"The men are all sober and so serious," Prentiss taunts playfully as she and JJ link arms and skip past them. You can't help but to laugh.

You and Garcia pile into the back of Reid's car, Penelope pouting because she had to leave her car at Rossi's.

"I'm in Dr. Reid's car, how bizarre," Penelope seems to come to one of her realizations. She glances around, looks down and her eyes blow wide as Spencer silently begins to drive. "Y/N," she slaps your leg rapidly. "Tell me that's not women's underwear, please tell me it's not," she whispering now. She's pointing to a red thong on the floor board of his car.

"Shut the fuck up," you breathe.

"No way! Dr. Spencer Reid is a certified man whore!" She exclaims.

Spencer's head snaps back to look at her, unsure of what she's referring to. His eyes crash into yours for a moment as though you would have actually told her.

"Underwear, Spence, really?" You lay on the disbelief thick as though they aren't yours.

"That's not, it's not-" he rambles off.

"I'm calling Morgan," Penelope is giddy with excitement as she whips out her cell phone. You stop her playfully.

"This is looking real unsub-ish," you grip Spencer's shoulders from behind him. He clears his throat and shakes his head but stays focused on the road. You can feel the electricity spike between you so you drop your hands from him.

"This does not leave this car," he pleads with the two of you. You can see his knuckles whiten as his grip tightens on the wheel, he's not angry. He's flustered, embarrassed. It's adorable.

"Fine," Penelope groans. "I'll keep this delicious little morsel of information to myself. For now."

You swear you can hear Spence roll his eyes.

He pulls up to Penelope's apartment first and steps out of the car to let her out.

"You are more than just a brainiac, aren't ya," she pats Spencer's chest while giggling.

"Yeah yeah yeah," he grins and walks her to her door. You lie down in the backseat, your eyes fluttering closed as you remember just how those underwear got there.

The two of you had been sent to follow up on a lead that turned out to be a dead end. It was late, both of your inhibitions lowered with sleep deprivation. The aching need between you that seemed to draw on forever had come to a breaking point.

You had drug him into the backseat under the protection of darkness on the back country road. Despite his concerns, his need for you took over. The wildness of that encounter had fueled many late night fantasies since then. You squeeze your thighs together, the wine and flashback flood you with need.

The driver's side door swings open, causing you to jump upward when Spencer drops into the car.

"Are you doing okay?" He asks, his demeanor is already different now that the two of you are alone.

"Mhmm," you answer as the car begins to move. From the way you're laying in the seat, you have a perfect view of his features.

His hair is perfectly tousled, his jaw line extra sharp tonight somehow, and those perfect lips...

"'Wanna kiss you," you murmur. You don't know why you said it but when his tongue darts out to moisten his lips, you start to wonder why you didn't say it sooner.

"We shouldn't," he shakes his head. You frown and sit up in the back seat. He looks over his shoulder. "I don't think Hotch scheduling that mandatory fraternization training for the team was just a coincidence."

"I know we don't really believe in coincidences but those training's are required annually, Spence," you sigh and place your hands on his shoulders. He lolls his head back briefly but keeps his eyes straight forward.

"It's only been four months and thirteen days since the last one," he reasons. That was true, you probably should be concerned. Even so, the wine was clouding your judgement and the way he looked tonight was torture.

You groan because you know his concerns are valid.

"With the consent to monitor, we could already be under investigation if they suspect something," he sighs. You can hear the pain in his voice because he knows he needs to keep things strictly professional.

"Hotch wouldn't do that. He would just ask us. You know that," you reason. It was true. Your team was a family, he would confront it head on instead of underhandedly.

He seems to weigh the logic and then accept it. It makes you feel better in your line of reasoning.

"You know it's better if we don't," he says as he parks the car outside of your house.

"I know," you nod. But when he turns back to look at you, his defenses are down. His pleading eyes devour you and the air charges. "But you can't look at me like that, Spence," you say and grip his tie.

You bring your lips to his, your grip on him keeping him in place. He groans into the kiss and then his tongue slips into your mouth. You adjust in the seat to deepen the kiss. Lust burns between you and his hand is in your hair, keeping you locked close just like you're desperately doing to him.

He breaks the kiss, eyes searching yours briefly before getting out of the car. He hurriedly opens your door. You giggle when he takes your hand, long legs taking quick strides to your door.

You fumble with the keys and finally get the door unlocked. He kicks it closed behind him, his blazer the first thing you push off of him. His tie is loose and he seems like he can't get it off fast enough as he jerks it over his head.

He stumbles into you, focused on getting his hands on you. He kisses you roughly, messily. You don't care, you grip his hair as he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

"You looked perfect tonight," he groans between needy kisses.

You rip open his dark purple button down with a moan and begin to attack his neck with your mouth. He pins you against the wall, his erection teasing your clit through your clothes. You've never hated clothes more.

"I need you," you plead and push his shirt off of his shoulders as his hands explore your waist.

His bare chest and body against yours is heady and you run your nails down his torso, eliciting a whimper from deep in his throat. Something about watching this beautiful man melt from a genius FBI agent into an animal blind with need was exhilarating.

"Fuck it," he drops you abruptly. His mind is made up, he's giving into this.

He spins you suddenly, forcing you to bend forward over the entryway table. He drags your pants and underwear down in one swift movement.

"Spencer," you giggle. He kicks your leg to make you widen your stance and you're panting. You look into the mirror in front of you and catch a glimpse of him undoing his belt while his eyes drink you in.

"You're going to watch yourself," he grips your hair. His cock teases your entrance, causing you to moan. "You're going to see how pretty you look when you cum for me."

His words cause your stomach to tighten but you can't react because his cock is inside of you, stretching you wide for him. You drop your head but he grips your hair and forces your eyes back up to the mirror.

Your eyes meet his and he's lost in the feeling of being inside of you. His own head lolls back briefly and he exhales as he thrusts into you. The room fills with the filthy sounds of him pounding into you. His other hand digs into your hip while he keeps your head upright by your hair. You're forced to watch what he's doing and it's so hot.

His mouth has fallen open as he focuses his rhythm to meet your needs. You're pushing your hips back to meet him pound for pound which earns you a string of curses from his delicious mouth. Part of you can't help but think of how much trouble both of you would be in if Hotch found out. It makes everything so much more thrilling, so much more risky.

He's dragging you closer to your orgasm with every thrust, every nerve inside of you being stroked by the head of his cock. You can feel the shape of him, the girth as your body opens up for him.

"Harder baby," you moan and place your hand on the mirror to brace yourself. He does as he's told with a pleased moan. You shudder as your climax barrels through you.

"Fuck," he moans. "Look at you," he whimpers.

You look up as you tighten and explode around his cock. Your face is red, your breasts pressed into the table, your eyes are blown wide, and you're biting down on your bottom lip.

"So pretty cumming for me," he slows his rhythm and tortuously takes his time sliding in and out of you. He knows you're extra sensitive post orgasm and he wants to make you feel so good.

"Ah, Spence," you moan and hike your leg up onto the table. He approves and is able to fuck you deeper, harder with the new angle. He does just that until you're screaming his name.

"This is so bad, were so bad," you moan which only prompts him to fuck you harder because he agrees.

"Fuck," he shudders as he comes apart inside of you. The feeling pulls another orgasm out of you, and has you digging your nails into the wood of the table.

"Oh my God," you whimper as you both finish cumming together.

It's so good. Too good. You drop your head into your hands, breathing frantically while he pulls out of you. Goddamn. The feeling of his cum dripping out of you is always so fucking hot.

He pulls you into him and kisses you softly. He exhales with a similar relief that you feel. Two weeks without him was far too long.

"You are incredible," he tells you, his eyes seemingly heavy with relaxation.

You kiss him again and lay your head on his chest as he pulls you into him.

"Stay the night," you plead. The two of you have never spent the night together, keeping things to a culmination of heated encounters.

"You know I can't," he frowns.

You nod, not sure why you asked. Your heart sinks at the thought of him leaving and you push it away.

"We have to try to keep this casual if not professional. If we start doing that, it complicates things further," he tells you.

You hug your arms to your chest and nod. You know he's right.

"Yeah, I know," you say quietly.

He pulls his shirt back on and begins buttoning it. You go ahead and pull your own pants back on. His phone rings, drawing you out of your conflicting thoughts and feelings.

"Reid," he answers. "What?" He turns to you with wide eyes. "Nothing is... Garcia," he groans and runs his hand through his hair. "They weren't hers. You're not making sense..." he becomes frantic.

You try to ask him to put it on speaker but he shakes his head.

"She got sick... it's not like that," he's trying to play it casual.

You know in that moment... Penelope figured it out and she's not even a profiler.

Fuck.

A/N; imagine your own era of Reid ;) These gifs give a variety haha

#mgg #spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg pics #spencer reid one shots #dr reid #spicy spencer reid

260 notes · View notes

disasterofastory · 1 year ago

Text

Leather and dust (Thranduil x Reader)

Leather and dust Thranduil x Reader Warnings: smutty

Summary: Thranduil pays you a visit in the library.

The creak of the heavy doors breaks the silence of the library. It's loud and sharp in the silence. A small gasp leaves your lips as you jump because of the sudden sound. The book almost slips out of your hands, and you tighten your hold at the last moment. Your nails dig into the leather cover.

You know he is here. You can feel it. And hear it. His steps are heavy thuds on the ground. Putting the book back in its original place on the shelf, you try to listen to the rhythmic noise to find out where he may be. A frown appears between your brows as you turn your head left and right. His steps echo between the tall walls. One moment, you are sure he is far away, and the next second, your heart jumps to your throat at his closeness.

Where is he?

"What the book did to cause that frown?" Another gasp leaves your lips at his words. Your head snaps up where he stands, and your hand slips away from the book's spine to fall next to your body. Your fingers seek out the soft material of your skirt to grab something. "It did nothing, my King," you reply when you find your voice. Thranduil stands a few meters away from you at the end of the shelf. His hands are behind his back. His posture is straight and confident. His whole presence demands respect and obedience. "Then who earned your sour mood, Y/N?" "Oh, nobody," you croak out, clearing your throat. "I just... I was deep in thought." "Do you want to share them with me?" He asks, stepping closer. "Maybe I can ease your worries." "I have no worries, my King," you tell him, shaking your head. "My thoughts don't even deserve to be mentioned." You are lying. Of course, you do. But how could you share your thoughts with the elven king? How could you tell him that he is the reason for your worries? That you barely can breathe in his presence? And you can't look at him without burning? And the little game he has been playing with you for weeks now drives you desperation and madness at the same time? "It's hard to believe that your thoughts don't deserve mentioning," he argues softly. The corners of his lips jerk upward, but Thranduil doesn't let himself smile even though the amusement is clear on his face. Humor glints in his bright blue eyes. Not knowing what to say, you clear your throat again before speaking. "Can I help you with something, my King?" You ask him, trying to be more professional. "The others told me you want to reorganize the library," he says. "Yes," you nod. "Tightening the relations between Lake-town and the dwarves made a mess here. I thought perhaps..." "Why?" He asks, and the sudden question stops you from speaking. "Why does a mortal woman like you with such a short lifespan waste her time here? With old books and languages?" His question hurts for a moment. The frown is back on your face with a small pout. "I..." The wrinkle between your brows deepens as you try to think of your answer. "Maybe that's why." Turning to the books so you don't have to look at him, you continue. "I don't have hundreds and thousands of years to get to know and experience everything. The books and documents... they help. And..." The air gets stuck in your lungs when you feel him moving behind you. His chest touches your back. His whole presence hovers above you and almost pushes you to your knees. "And?" His warm breath fans over the side of your face. It smells like fruits and a hint of the finest elven wine. "And..." You have to force the words out of your tightened throat. "And their smell. It's parchment, dust, leather, and ink. They are comforting." By the time you finish your sentence, your voice becomes a weak whisper. The tip of his nose brush over the curve where your neck and shoulder meet. Your heart stops beating for a long second, and your thighs clench without your control. "That explains it," he hums against your skin. "Explains what, my King?" You ask back, still frozen in place. "Your scent," he says. "Dust, leather, and ink. It haunts me since you are here. I lay in my bed at night, unable to sleep because of you. I can hear you. I can smell you." "Oh." "Do you know what I do then, Y/N?" He asks. His large hands land on your hips. His hold on you is tight and possessive. You can feel the squeeze of his fingers between your legs even though his touch doesn't move away from your sides. "No," you reply. The word leaves your lips panting. "Then ask me, Y/N." His lips brush over your neck as he speaks. "Ask me what I do when I'm unable to free myself from the thoughts of you." "What do you do, my King?" Your question is shaky and breathless. His chest presses against your back some more. You can feel him pressed against your bottom. "I imagine you," he replies. You can barely feel the kisses he hints on the line of your shoulder as he goes up to your neck, but you still know what he is doing. "I close my eyes and imagine you beneath me. You are bare and flushed in front of me. Your lips are red from my kisses, and your legs are open as you wait for me." You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each word that leaves his lips. One of his hands slips down to your skirt, pulling up the fabric with calmness and patience. "I try to imagine how you taste and how you sound as you scream my name and beg for more." "Thranduil." His name slips off your tongue with desperation. Your eyes fall close, and you have to grab one of the shelves to keep your balance. "I imagine this pussy around my cock instead of my hand." His long fingers find their way under your panties easily. His touch glides over your wetness, gathering your juices until he is soaked in your essence. "Open your mouth," Thranduil orders. His voice is quiet but not less commanding. "And suck." Your own taste spreads across your tongue as he pushes two of his fingers between your lips. "Is it as sweet as I imagined?" He asks but doesn't let your answer. When you open your mouth to speak, he pushes deeper until you gag. Saliva drips down your jaw. "I will taste you tonight," the elven king states. "I will feast on your pussy all night until you are as mad with need as I am." But you already are. The world is dizzy around you, and only Thranduil's arm keeps you on your feet. Your pussy aches and throbs for more.

And everything is over before you know it.

"Come to my room tonight," Thranduil says. You feel cold without his warmth behind you. "I will wait for you."

#thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit smut

2K notes · View notes

mysticheathenn · 5 months ago

Text

Mystery Pick-A-Card Pt. ll

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about whatever the cards have to say. I shuffle the cards and whatever message comes out is your reading. I couldn't decide on what reading should be next as so many messages wanted to come through, so I decided on this way. This may be about love, academics, friendship/family, money, or careers. Whatever the cards have to say, will be said.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

TW Ahead Read With Caution

Pile l:

What is your Mystery Reading? Tarot: Page of Swords, 5 of Swords, The Chariot (Clarified by The Reversed Empress), Justice (Clarified by 9 of Cups), Ace of Wands

"There's no kindness in your eyes The way you look at me, it's just not right I can tell what's going on this time There's a stranger in my life You're not the person that I once knew Are you scared to let them know it's you? If they could only see you like I do Then they would see a stranger too" - Hilary Duff, Strangers

TW: Body image, Self Esteem, Anorexia, Dysmorphia, Etc

Even though Strangers by Hilary Duff is a love song about a toxic relationship this is about you having a toxic relationship, but with yourself. You are so skilled at faking smiles and pretending everything is okay while you suffer on the inside with your constant negative talk to yourself. You could say things like how ugly, fat, and disgusting, you are to yourself and spew all of these lies that aren't true. Some of you could possibly be dealing with body dysmorphia where you see yourself as one way one moment and another moment you do a complete 180 or 360 depending on what it is about your body you are speaking negatively/positively about. Some of these feelings, thoughts, and emotions may have come from your childhood/adolescence where your family constantly pointed out changes in your weight causing you to have these feelings or body disorders. This makes me sad because I don't need to know what you look like to know that you are handsome/beautiful/spectacular/ and everything that's as sensational and bright as the sun. This reading has left me in a pickle as I have never pulled cards dealing with this subject before and don't want to overstep or cause any damage, as I'm not a psychologist/therapist so I can't give you the guidance you need in order to see yourself for all its glory, but your guides want you to know it's time to start seeing the light. They can't help you if you don't try to help yourself first by seeking help for the thoughts that plague your mind on a daily basis. You may like to listen to sad songs when you're sad so you can remain in your sadness because being happy with who you are is too unbearable to think about. It's time to begin your journey of healing and surrounding yourself with people who see you for who you really are and not the versions in your head that you see or the versions your family likes to place on you because of their own f*cked-up views and opinions about themselves. Try seeking out help from a therapist/psychologist, or a trusted friend. Also, remember that you are more than just your looks, you have a personality that I am sure shines bright as gold and a beautiful future ahead where you are thriving and seeing yourself as truly divine.

Pile ll:

What is your Mystery Reading? Tarot: The Devil, 7 of Cups, 8 of Cups (Clarified by The Star), 9 of Pentacles (reversed)

"There's things I wanna say to you But I'll just let you live Like if you hold me without hurting me You'll be the first who ever did There's things I wanna talk about But better not to give But if you hold me without hurting me You'll be the first who ever did" - Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey

TW: Self-Sabotage, Vices, etc

This reading can go so many different ways but the overall message is that there is something in your life that isn't good for you that you can't see to walk away because you either feel you have no better options or you don't want any other options. For some of you, this could be a relationship you refuse to let go of because of fear and for others of you, this could be vices like drugs, alcohol, or even self-sabotaging things for yourself because you don't see how bright your future or how brilliant you are. Some of you are so far down the rabbit hole that you don't see a way out, you have let this thing or person consume your every being to the point there is no moon or sun in your work only complete darkness. It's as if you have fully accepted that this is your life now and the thing about that pile ll is this doesn't have to be your life. You have The Star card in your reading showing you that you are more than capable of being someone other than the version you are now or even finding better elsewhere if this is about a relationship. Freedom is just a few steps away you just have to be the one to see the light at the end of the tunnel instead of always pulling the blackout curtains over any and all kinds of light that touched your domain. You have options...you just rather not take them because of having to deal with the pain that comes along with it. Again this could be vices that you pick up every time life gets even the smallest of inconvenient for you and others it's a relationship that you wholeheartedly either believe is as good as it gets for you because of your low self-esteem or because you don't want to leave this person in their darkest hour not realizing that they too are slowing taking you under. Your light is so bright pile ll and it's been trying to show you in your darkness but you refuse to answer or grab its hand. It's time to walk away from the things that keep you mentally, emotionally, and even physically stuck and walk away. Do some healing or find other solutions that can help with your vices. Similar to how chain smokers replace cigarettes with snacks...replace what this toxic energy is with something better.

Pile lll:

What is your Mystery Reading? Tarot: The Lovers, The Hierophant, The Devil, The Moon, 3 of Swords

Two Messages - TW: Toxic Relationships (Romantic & of the Self)

So many Major Arcana cards pile lll. You may have been drawn to Pile ll, this reading somewhat mirrors that pile also. The only difference is that you acknowledge your unhappiness while Pile ll...well...yeah. Anyway, pile lll I sense your unhappiness within your relationship and possibly within yourself too. With the lovers and devil card in this reading, I sense that this is mainly a relationship reading but if not take what resonates and apply it to you being single. Single messages are later in this reading. Overall you are unhappy with how your relationship is, it's as if you romanticized what it would be like with this person and decided to go with the flow of everything even when things didn't feel right and now you are unhappy because you don't want to "disturb the peace" in your relationship but you also are feeling yourself chip away each and every day. Maybe this is the kind of relationship you thought you wanted because society or your family have always had this kind of relationship and you thought this is the way it has to be not realizing that you have a say in how your relationship should be, feel, and look like. You don't have to sit in silence and possibly cry yourself to sleep every night wishing things were different when you can just leave if the relationship is not serving you the way your soul wants to be fed. For just a few of you this may be an abusive or toxic relationship and this relationship while it is abusive you have only known chaotic and toxic love so anything else just doesn't feel right because you are so used to chaos and drama not realizing that's not love. For those of you who are single, this feels more so of you not feeling one with yourself. You're catering to everyone else but what your soul has been telling you all along. There is so much hidden potential in you that you don't realize because you are listening and entertaining others. Going back to those who are in abusive or toxic relationships if you can and only if you can seek help. There are so many people out there willing and wanting to help you get out. Last for those who are single and try and tap into the parts of you that are screaming for you to release and see where it takes you. I am going to let you know that you tapping into yourself will cause friction to those who are only around you for their own benefit...are you ready to lose those around you when you stop entertaining others' opinion of you.

Pile lV:

What is your Mystery Reading? Tarot: Ace of Pentacles, 7 of cups, Strength, Ace of Cups, 8 of Pentacles, Hanged Man

This is the only good happy-toned reading out of the remainder of the other piles and I can't tell you how happy I am for you. Whatever it is that you have been working on specifically dealing with career as I see a lot of money and emotions cards. Needless to say, that emotional fulfillment is coming in for you pile lV. Please don't doubt that what you are doing is a waste of time because it's not. If you aren't working on something you may have had several opportunities or ideas come to you that you have questioned whether they will lead you to financial stability and abundance and with the 8 and Ace of Pentacles card it is a yes. Yes, one of your ideas will bring you the money you have been trying to manifest or pray for. Some of you that may have multiple ideas or opportunities may not be sure as to what you should take that will lead you down this road and it's the one that gives you the most emotional fulfillment. If you still aren't sure close your eyes and picture yourself doing each opportunity and if it doesn't give you a feeling of peace washing over you...onto the next idea or opportunity. This path will also force you to have strength pile lV as this is not a quick road to riches and stability. You will be tested and have setbacks as well as being stuck in limbo but overall this will be worth it and is exactly what you have been wanting in your life...it's just going to take a bit of work to get there but financial abundance is on it's way to you, just have patience, dedication, and focus on the prize.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

#spirituality #witchblr #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a card #tarot cards #pac tarot #pick a pile #pac reading #pick an image #pick a picture #pick a photo

247 notes · View notes

marvelstoriesepic · 2 months ago

Text

Ocean’s claim

Pairing: Lifeguard!Bucky x Amateur!Surfer!Reader

Summary: Seeking a thrill, your friend Natasha convinces you to go surfing during stormy weather conditions - a bad idea as you come to experience.

Word Count: 5.9k 🌊 🫧 💧

Warnings: Reader is a non-professional when it comes to surfing; vivid descriptions of near drowning; mentions of death; slight hypothermia

Author's note: Felt like some angst since my last fic was fluff city. (There is still some fluff in it because it’s me) I'm also already taking notes for a possible second part, so if you like this and would like to see some more, please let me know. 🩵

Masterlist

“Nat, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time in the past half hour, voice trembling with urgency.

Each step feels heavier than the last, your heart pounding in your chest as you draw closer to the beach. You barely hear the playful groan of the redhead in front of you over the howl of the wind whipping around you, making your ears ring uncomfortably and your eyes water slightly.

Natasha struts forward, strands of her hair dancing wildly in the gusts, but she doesn’t seem fazed by the worsening weather. She has her surfboard casually tucked under her arm as if it’s just another sunny day at the beach.

“Come on, buzzkill,” she calls back, her voice light, teasing. “This is the perfect time! Nobody out here to hog the waves.” She glances over her shoulder at you, grinning, eyes bright with excitement that only amplifies your anxiety.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your footing steady as a strong gust nearly knocks you off balance. Your own surfboard feels heavy in your arms, the wind tugging at it like it wants to rip it away from you. Grip tightening, the rough texture of the wax sticks against your palms as your fingers dig in, fighting for control.

The wind picks up as you feel the sand underneath.

Glancing at the sky there are dark, doomy clouds over the horizon, swirling like an angry beast ready to pounce. The ocean beneath them churns restlessly. The waves are massive, their white crest crashing unforgivingly against the shore, louder than normal, almost angry.

Jagged shards of shells skitter across the beach like lost treasures and the wind tugs the sand into tiny tornadoes. The beach is deserted, foreboding, and your heart squeezes at the way the waves crash with unruly vigor.

There is a warning in the air, heavy and electric and your body aches to listen. The hair at the back of your neck stands on end. Every instinct in your body is screaming at you to turn around, to leave before it’s too late.

“Nat!” you shout, your voice barely carrying over the deafening whistle of the wind. It comes out almost as a scream, your desperation clawing at your throat as you try to get across how badly this could end.

But Natasha just throws a glance over her shoulder, her face just as bright as moments before - resolute and unfazed - as if the danger you can practically taste doesn’t exist.

“Come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun!” she shouts back, her voice carried away by the wind before it fully reaches you. Her steps quicken as she nears the water, eagerness fueling her, despite the gusts pushing against you two. She’s practically running, buzzing with adrenaline, her surfboard bouncing under her arm as the storm closes in.

It had been Natasha's idea to come out here, of course. She loves chasing a thrill, convincing you that surfing under those weather conditions would help you two get skilled. “No crowds, no waiting, just us and the ocean.” It’s what she said.

Though the ocean doesn’t seem welcoming at all right now.

You knew she would have gone either way. If you agreed or not. That’s basically the only reason you’re here right now, because as reckless as she could be, there was no way you were going to let her walk into danger alone - or her grave as it seems.

You’re not a professional surfer - neither of you are. The two surfboards you’re clutching onto for dear life are borrowed, a generous loan from the instructor who had run the beginner’s surf class just last week. He’d been a laid-back guy, happy to hear you and Natasha were interested in keeping up with the sport.

Unfortunately though, when he let you take the boards, he couldn’t possibly have any idea that you’d be sneaking out to the beach in the middle of an impending storm.

How could he? This is crazy. The wind tears at your clothes forcefully and your stomach churns, knots replacing your insides.

You’re not ready for this. The boards surely aren’t made for such waves - neither are you for that matter. Your experience amounts to a few rides on gentle waves under the perfect conditions. But this? This is something else entirely.

You watch in dread as Nat wades into the water. She pauses briefly to recheck the leash wrapped around her ankle, the heavy surfboard snug against her body. Your heart races as you hold your breath, bracing yourself for what comes next.

For a fleeting moment, you survey the beach again, hoping against hope to spot someone, anyone, who might help knock some sense into her, to pull her back from the brink of this reckless decision.

The stretch of sand is empty save for the lifeguard’s wooden stand in the distance, its white rescue board secured to the side. You squint, trying to make out if there is someone inside, but the fog of the approaching storm blurs everything, and it’s impossible to tell. Even if there is someone, you’re sure he’d have difficulty to even catch sight of you and it’s too far to run.

You turn back toward the water but the second your eyes meet the rolling waves, a stone lodges in your throat, pushing your heart to the depths of your body. Panic flares up inside you.

She’s gone.

The spot where Natasha was just moments ago is empty, swallowed by the towering swells. The dark water rises and falls, chaotic and aggressive, and your friend is nowhere in sight. Terror seizes you, cold and sharp, tightening your chest as your mind boils over.

The ocean looks so alive, merciless, and indifferent, pulling her deeper, under, with every second that passes.

“Natasha!” you scream, voice raw with fear.

Your body moves before your mind can tell you otherwise, and there is no longer hesitation, no second-guessing as you run to the shoreline. Your legs pump through the sand, lungs protesting and you fight against the force of the wind with everything you have. It feels almost personal.

The freezing cold instantly numbs your legs as your body hits the water. You charge forward, the surf breaking against your thighs. The water threatens to knock you down with each shaky breath but you push deeper, ignoring the icy shock and the way the current pulls at you, fighting your balance.

Blood rushes in your ears, your heart hammering so loudly that it drowns out the roar of the ocean for a second.

Every pulse of the water feels like a living force, hurling you in every direction, a relentless barrage that leaves you gasping for control. The waves slam against you from all sides, tossing you like a leaf caught in a storm.

You grit your teeth, trying to remember what your instructor had taught you. “Don’t fight the waves, use them, move with the water. It’s your friend, not your enemy.”

Well, fuck that, because friendly feels different.

You try to stay calm, arms trembling as you cling to the board, the slick surface cold and uncomfortable under your fingertips.

With a desperate effort, you manage to stay on the board long enough to scream Natasha's name again, your voice strained and choked by the salty wind. Just then, another monstrous wave smashes into you, enveloping you in a wall of water. You’re plunged into darkness, swallowed whole by the chaos, and for a disorienting moment, this doesn’t even feel real anymore.

But then your head breaks the surface again and you gasp for a breath, lungs burning. You clutch the board with a grip so tight it sends sharp stings all the way to your fingertips. The rough surface digs into your palms but you’d be damned if you let go of that thing.

With every ounce of strength you can muster, Natasha’s name leaves your lips again but the sound is ripped away almost as soon as it leaves your throat, swallowed by the howling wind and the whizz of the waves. It feels like screaming into a void, hopeless and hollow.

Then another wave slams into you - so hard, you feel the entire impact - and you’re under again.

Cold water surrounds you, suffocating your head. Your vision is nothing but an unfocused blur and salt stings in your eyes. All sense of direction is once again lost on you, your body twisting in the currents. You feel like a ragdoll, losing all control you have.

Each wave drags you further from the shore, further from safety, and the cold grip of despair tightens around your heart.

Breaking the surface, you gasp like you’ve never breathed before. Each gulp of air is a frantic, panicked effort as if the wind might steal it from you at any second. Each breath that follows fills your body with urgency, littered with the stifling sensation of the sea.

A few waves and more salty water later, you manage to regain some sense of balance, moving back up on your board and scanning the horizon, head whipping around hastily and eyes wide. You would be proud of the second of control you have but your heart sinks lower the longer the water lacks any sign of her.

The panic spreads like ice, the cold seeping into your bones, but the fear for yourself and your best friend burns hot.

You try to focus, to do what you’ve been taught - stay on the board, ride the wave, don’t let it pull you under - but it feels like a losing battle.

Another wave crashes and saltwater fills your mouth and lungs, scorching your throat, gurgling with every ragged breath. You’re still on the board. That’s a surprise you let sink in for a moment.

A voice cuts through the storm - Nat’s. Desperate and terrified. Your name. It sounds like it’s coming from the shore, but it feels impossibly distant like she’s miles away instead of just down the beach.

The realization hits you like a crash with as much power as the waves around you. How far off are you? You twist your neck to look toward the beach, but the looming waves obscure your view, and the horizon is just a blur of grey, indistinguishable from the sea itself.

You have no idea how far you’ve drifted, but it feels like the beach might as well be a world away.

You scream back desperately. This isn’t just fear anymore. It’s a raw, primal terror that digs into the fabric of your being, knitting utter despair tightly with the frantic rhythm of your heart. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever known - this paralyzing panic that roots itself deep inside your bones.

It’s the kind of fear you always imagined would come with the knowledge that death would follow. That slow, creeping certainty that there is no way out, no escape. It wraps around you like the icy water that threatens to pull you under and your clothes that cling to you pressingly, only weighing you down.

You’ve heard of drowning, read about it, seen it on TV, but never once did you think it would happen to you. Not like this. But is this how it ends? The thought flashes through your mind, bitter and cruel. You never envisioned going out this way - suffocated by the ocean, your last breath stolen by the waves.

Sometimes, you’d like to imagine that drowning would be a quiet, perhaps even peaceful descent into darkness. But this is a cacophony, a battle of breath and will, a struggle against an unforgiving beast that demands tribute.

Drowning isn’t an elegant surrender. It’s ruthless and visceral and you’re defenseless in the face of its power.

You cling to the surfboard as if it's the only thing tethering you to life, your muscles blaring in protest as the water laps at you greedily, eager to pull you under, to claim you as its own.

The water is relentless, an unfeeling, unstoppable force. It doesn’t care about your fear, your pain, your will to live. It just keeps coming, wave after wave, crashing into you with a ferocity that feels almost personal.

Your strength is ebbing, but the sea shows no sign of slowing. It’s a living thing, testing your resolve. It’s waiting for the moment when you will lose your grip, when the board will slip from your fingers, when the leash that binds you to it will snap, and you will be claimed.

The dark water beckons, yawning wide, promising oblivion - a cold quiet grave beneath the surface where you would lie, not as a person, but as a forgotten droplet, swallowed by the depths. Because that’s all you are - a speck; a drop of water in its vast, uncaring expanse. The thought terrifies you. The image that the sea will take you and forget you in the same breath.

There is tightness in your throat, a swelling of emotion so overwhelming it feels as if the ocean itself has seeped into your heart. You can’t tell if the salty water on your face is mingling with your tears, can’t tell if you’re actually crying.

You feel like you’re unraveling, piece by piece, your strength, your hope, your very sense of self slipping away with every wave.

Perhaps the water has already masked your sorrow, each rush of water a reminder of your frailty - the fight for one more breath, one more heartbeat.

Numbness creeps through your limbs, a heavy fog settling over your consciousness. It’s strange how empty you begin to feel, devoid of sensation. Not just your body, though that too is beginning to lose its fight against the cold, the chill sinking deeper into you, making it harder to move, harder to care.

But there is a nothingness inside you, like part of you has already accepted what’s coming - an abyss that waits with patient malice and a gaping mouth.

You fight it. Of course, you do, but in the back of your mind, a small voice whispers that it’s only a matter of time. The sea is stronger than you, more patient. It’ll wait for you to falter, to let go, and then it will take you.

There are more wails and screams coming from the shore, all faint and distant. They became as constant as the waves around you. Though the deeper you are engulfed in the surf, the fainter the screaming feels, slipping away like grains of sand between your fingers desperately reaching out for solid ground.

For a moment you imagine letting go. Letting the deep, dark silence of the ocean swallow you, pulling you down to its unreachable and endless depths. A cold, quiet grave, the kind you never expected but that now feels so close you can feel it on your tongue.

Another towering wave rises before you like a mountain, its treacherous crest poised to unleash its ferocity. In a single, brutal shove, it hurls you from the board, and for a heartbeat you’re airborne, a marionette cut from its strings, suspended in an agonizing moment of uncertainty.

But something deep within you ignites, a primal need - a will to live - stronger than anything you’ve ever felt and it pulls you to the surface and up the board again with a strength you didn’t know you had left.

You gasp for air and every single part of your body wants reprieve, but your mind sharpens with a clarity that sears through the chaos. You won’t let the ocean take you. You need to find Nat.

Determination fills your veins like fire and you whip your head around to pinpoint where her relentless screams come from. Her cries, frenzied and panic-stricken, echo from everywhere suddenly, piercing through the tumult like a siren’s wail.

But as you strain against the tide, attempting to hear her better, something halts you for a dangerous moment.

It’s not just Natasha’s voice.

There’s another voice, calm and steady, weaving through her frantic cries, almost soothing in its cadence. The words are impossible to make out over the sound of the storm, but you can tell it’s a man. He’s speaking to her, perhaps trying to calm her down.

You don’t have time to process that before something else grips your attention. A third voice; deep, more resonant - another man - drifts in and out between the wafting waves. It’s closer, much closer than the others.

Your heart pounds so loudly, you can hear it over the storm. You strain your ears, desperate to catch that voice again, to make sense of it, but the wind tears the sound away before you can latch onto it.

With every ounce of focus you can muster, you whip your head around frantically, eyes scanning the water, and then you see it. A flash of white, cutting through the churning grey of the sea. A board?

Your breath catches.

Nat’s board is blue. Yours is still beneath you. The only white board you’ve seen was back on the beach, strapped to the lifeguard’s post.

Could it be?

Is your mind playing tricks on you? Are you that far gone?

But then it appears again. A flash of white and then red between the flooding currents, coming closer to you.

Hope flickers in your chest, fragile but bright. You squint your eyes, willing that shape to appear again, your heart racing in anticipation. But the sea remains relentless, making it impossible to get a clear view.

Your concentration costs you.

The next wave blindsides you, slamming into you with a blow that knocks the breath from your lungs. You yelp in shock as the water swallows you whole again, dragging you down beneath its unforgiving surface once more.

Your body tumbles, twisted by the current, and for a moment, you’re lost in the dark, cold world beneath the waves.

You are weightless. The ocean’s embrace is absolute. You can’t tell where the surface is anymore, can’t feel which way is up or down. Yet, there is that voice again. It’s blurred by the water filling your ears but it seems to surround you.

An urgent shout, muffled and distorted, yet oddly comforting, like it’s reaching through the water just for you. You can’t make out any words, but the tone is strong and deep, cutting through your panic, grounding you for just a moment.

You feel the leash around your ankle tugging, pulling you as your board drifts with the current, but you no longer have the strength to reach for it. You let it pull you along, your limbs flailing uselessly in the water.

Your body is beyond exhausted, each muscle burning with fatigue, your arms and legs barely responding to your desperate attempts to swim. You’re too drained to fight anymore. You feel the air still trapped in your lungs, but your body’s energy is slipping.

Slowly, you let your eyes fall closed and everything blurs. The only thing in focus is that voice. It almost seems like a part of the water, surrounding you, enveloping you. You want to hold onto it, but you’re so tired.

Then, suddenly there is a slight splash nearby - different from the waves. It cuts through the water like a jolt, a ripple of something deliberate. For the first time, you think you might know where the surface is.

Before you can do anything to react, a firm hand clamps onto your arm.

The grip is solid, unwavering, and with a sharp pull, you’re yanked upwards, your body dragged through the water with a sturdiness you couldn’t summon on your own.

Another hand grasps your other arm, and now you’re being lifted, hauled out of the water, breaking the surface.

Your body moves limply, like it’s no longer your own, the weight of exhaustion too much to fight.

Air hits your face, cold and bracing and you feel your lungs expand in relief of it. The sound of the ocean and the wind rushes back into your ears as you’re pulled up onto something hard - a board beneath you.

The tug on your ankle leaves you but you don’t have it in you to question it. Panic ebbs as more air floods into your chest, aching and yet so sweet. You feel the warmth of skin at your back, around your body, keeping you from slipping back under.

But you’re too weak to open your eyes. Too drained to look back at your savior, to see who has pulled you from the water’s grasp. You can only feel the firm grip, the solid presence behind you, and the way the board keeps you afloat.

The world feels so distant, the sounds around you muffled, your body so heavy it’s almost like you’re still submerged.

Fingers are pressing down on your wrist, as steady as the rest of him, perhaps feeling your pulse or just to balance you.

A thought strikes through your weak frame, igniting a flicker of energy fueled by adrenaline. Natasha. Worry surges within you. Is she even safe? Sure, you’ve heard those voices but what do they really convey?

With a sudden burst of resolve, you push away from the muscled body behind you, choking on the saltwater that clings to your lungs, gasping wildly for breath, your throat feeling like sandpaper.

A sharp exhale of relief sounds out from your rescuer, his grip loosening just enough to give you the space you need to find your breath, but your focus is somewhere else entirely.

“Thank god,” he mutters under his breath, but you don’t even register it.

“Nat!” you rasp out, voice trembling and barely more than a croak. “Where is she?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him, yourself, or pleading with the vindictive ocean still around you. The question is ripped from your chest with a feral need to know. She has to be okay.

“Hey,” your savior tries but you shake your head fervently, panic closing in and you snap your head around for a glimpse of her, only feeling his arm tighten around you, pulling you back against his chest.

“You need to get Natasha! She’s somewhere out there, she-”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, his tone firmer and louder by your ear, yet still soothing and gentle, and you let it ground you for a second just like in the water moments earlier.

“Your friend’s alright. She’s safe. Sam is looking out for her,” he sweetly explains to you, his thumb brushing tender circles against your arm while his other arm works to maneuver you two back to the beach.

You barely hear him, your gaze still flickering across the waves, but then he turns your head gently. “There, look.”

He nods to the shoreline that’s slowly coming into view. There, through the haze of wind and saltwater, you see her. Natasha is waving frantically, her face pale as a ghost, her mouth moving as she shouts something. Her voice is hoarse, barely audible.

Next to her stands a tall, dark-skinned man, his arm securely around her shoulders, making sure the blanket wrapped around her stays in place at her distressed movements. He is speaking to her in low tones, his hands rubbing warmth into her skin.

She looks wild with fear, the strands of her hair looking dark as they are pressed to the sides of her head. And she is shaking. But she is visibly safe.

Relief crashes into you like another wave, but this time, it doesn’t knock you down. Instead, it lets you breathe again. The tension in your chest that had kept you moving and looking for her, releases. Your body grows heavy, muscles giving in to the exhaustion that had been building since you hit the water.

Your body slumps back against the chest behind you, and you feel the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. He only tightens his arm around you, pulling you closer, letting you breathe in his warmth.

Your head rests against a sturdy shoulder, your cheek brushing his wet vest. And for the first time since you entered the water, you feel safe.

As you reach the shore, your body betrays you. A violent shiver takes over, teeth clattering uncontrollably, as the wind continues to bite into your soaked skin. But all you can focus on is Nat’s words finally reaching your ears.

“Y/n!” she screams, her voice cracking with emotion. “Oh my god, Y/n!”

You’re barely aware of the man behind you guiding you up to your feet, now both of his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you steady as you stumble forward.

The ground beneath you feels wobbly, the world still swaying like you’re trapped in the rhythm of the waves, but his unyielding grip keeps you from collapsing.

Natasha breaks away from Sam, or at least you assume that’s who he must be, and runs toward you with so much hurry, you’re scared she might knock you over. But again, the strong presence behind you balances your wavering body as she crashes into you.

Her arms sling around you in a tight embrace that makes you forget about your current situation for a second. You feel her sobs against your chest as she pulls back just enough to look at you, her tear-streaked face filled with regret and agony.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, her hands gripping your shoulders, afraid to let go. “God, Y/n, I’m so sorry!”

You try to shake your head, to give her some semblance of reassurance, but your face is too numb, muscles too drained to manage more than a faint twitch of your lips. “It’s okay,” you whisper.

But Nat shakes her head so fast, it overwhelms you, her eyes wide. “No, it’s not okay. Don’t say that. It’s not.” her voice cracks and you see the guilt warring in her eyes. “I should’ve never asked you to come with me. I should’ve never done this. Fuck, I’m so stupid.”

This time, you’re able to shake your head with more conviction, pulling strength from the man’s touch at your back. “Stop, okay? Please!” you ask, your voice more certain. “I’m just… I’m just glad you’re okay.”You offer her a real smile, though your lips tremble from more than just the cold.

Natasha curses under her breath, shaking hands pulling you into another tight hug. You close your eyes, sinking into her.

You hug for what feels like an eternity, her grip never loosening, and you realize your rescuer doesn’t even attempt to leave your side. At some point, he drapes a warm blanket over your shoulders, which Sam must have given him, and the slight weight of it makes you blink, pulling you back to reality.

The shivers don’t stop, but it’s a comfort to feel the warmth seep into your skin.

When you finally pull back from Nat, strong arms immediately wrap the blanket all around you from behind, his hands unshakable as he rubs in the warmth of it. Sam returns Natasha’s blanket over her own shoulders and you watch the curt nod he shares with the man behind you, a silent acknowledgment that everything went well.

You don’t make a move to do anything, mind still a hazy maze, exhaustion heavily wearing down on you, so you’re thankful to hear the gentle voice again near your ear. “Let’s get you warm, yeah?”

All you do is nod, but it seems to be enough and you let him guide you to the wooden lifeguard post down the beach. Wind is still whipping around you, but you don’t register that anymore.

He gently walks you up the ramp and you notice the missing white rescue board, the one he used to pull you from the water. Another shiver whacks your spine.

He pushes open the door and you step into a small room that seems to be well-organized. The air inside feels warmer, a welcome change from the biting cold you had been under way too long, though it still carries that smell of salt.

There is a wooden bench in front of you with a neat stack of folded towels and blankets in bright red and yellow. He sits you down, layering the blanket over yourself so it is completely enveloping your shivering frame.

He kneels in front of you, moving slowly and deliberately, as if careful not to startle you too much too soon. His presence is calming and you don’t shy away at the intense way he searches your features, the soft expression he wears soothing your aching muscles.

The warmth that radiates from him makes your heart flutter in a way you don’t quite expect.

“Is it okay if I ask you a few questions? Have to make sure everything’s alright.”

His voice. God, you love his voice. There is that slight rasp in it and a boyishness that makes it so soothing, so grounding. It’s as enveloping as the blanket that already surrounds you.

He only makes you feel reassured, and the quiet curve of your lips turns into a small smile as you nod in agreement. His gaze sweeps over your face, checking for any signs of pain, discomfort, or lingering fear. The way he studies you is careful, but not invasive.

“Alright,” he whispers, blue eyes not leaving your face. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

You can’t help the stretch of your smile at the almost bashful way he runs his fingers through his tousled and slightly wet hair. It’s endearing, considering the fact that he just saved your life. The confidence and the sureness he carried while saving you from the water seem to melt into quiet humility now that you’re safe.

You tell him your name and age after he asks. Watching his facial reactions to your words feels so calming, it’s all you can do to slow your heart rate down a notch and stop the involuntary shaking of your body.

There is a small tug at his eyebrows, and a frown threatens to overcome his features, revealing a hint of underlying worry and he keeps drifting his eyes over you, watching the way your shoulders are still shaking.

A little hesitantly he moves his hands up to your knees and rubs the blanket over them softly, hoping to warm up your legs.

“Are you feeling okay? Do you have any trouble breathing? Anything that hurts?” The concern you see on his face is evident in his voice as well and a swell of warmth rises within you, spreading through your body. You relish it.

Sam, who attends to Natasha a foot away, raises an eyebrow in Bucky’s direction, a question in his eyes, but teasing in his smirk.

“Normally, you wait for your patient to answer, before moving on to the next question man,” he chimes in with playful sarcasm. He looks up to you for a second before his gaze moves back to Bucky.

Bucky straightens up before you, the teasing from Sam seemingly lost on him as he clenched his jaw. His face flushes slightly and he looks down at his hands, still gently rubbing circles on your knees. “Yeah, right,” he mutters under his breath, but you pick it up.

A small giggle rises in your stomach and you let it pass, coming out a little breathless and weak, but genuine enough for Bucky’s head to snap back up. His eyes soften, a sparkle shining in them you are able to make out because you watch him so intensely. A smile brightens his face and his momentary embarrassment is lost.

You answer Bucky’s questions one by one, recalling the disorienting moments of your rescue after he almost hesitantly asks you to do so. His hands still soothingly rub your knees.

Bucky listens intently, his eyes never leaving your face, nodding softly at your words. You see him trying his best to remain calm but you notice the tension in his stance, the tick in his jaw, and the slight frown never leaves his face - the weight of his concern lingering in the air.

Sam, who has been standing nearby, leans in slightly. “Gave us a pretty good scare there, sugar.” His tone is light, clearly trying to cut through the tension with a bit of humor, but the moment the words leave his mouth, Bucky’s head snaps up. His gaze hardens drastically as he shoots Sam a sharp look, his voice laced with frustration and irritation.

“Now imagine how she must feel, you fucking idiot.”

His tone catches you off guard. It’s the first time Bucky’s words carry an edge, so different from the gentleness he’s shown you since. Sam raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, licking his lips as he tilts his head slightly.

“Alright, grumpy pants, my bad. You’re right,” he concedes. His demeanor shifts and he becomes more serious, sincere as he steps closer, crouching down to your height and laying a hand on your shoulder. “No, but really,” he says with a nod of his head, “I’m glad you’re okay.” His words hold weight, and the smile he gives you is genuine, toothy even.

You offer him a smile in return, and Sam nods back, satisfied. You can feel Bucky’s gaze still on you, but it’s Nat’s soft, broken voice that cuts through the moment.

“It’s my fault this happened,” she whispers, barely audible. She is hovering nearby, her eyes red and swollen, shoulders hunched under the weight of guilt and her fingers fidget with the edge of the blanket. Her words hang heavy in the air, filled with regret and self-blame.

You react immediately, not letting her fall into that pit of guilt. “Nat!” you say firmly, facing her. “It was my decision to come along.”

Your best friend looks almost childlike in her distress, eyes glistening again with unshed tears. “You came along because you didn’t want me to go alone,” she counters, voice thick. “You and I both know I would have gone without you. I basically pressured you to follow me because I knew you would. You always just want to make sure I’m safe and now-”

Natasha’s voice falters, the words catching in her throat before a heart-wrenching sob leaves her. The sound pierces your chest, and you can’t handle it longer, feeling tears sting behind your eyes.

Without thinking, you push yourself up from the bench, your legs shaky but driven by the need to embrace her. Bucky, still kneeling before the bench, opens his mouth as if to protest, clearly concerned for your state.

You’re sure he was about to remind you that you should be sitting down, but the urgency in your movement stops him.

Nat clings to you immediately, her fingers gripping the blanket around you, sobs muffled into your shoulder. You start to gently shush her, whispering words of comfort as her body trembles in your arms.

You basically feel Bucky and Sam share a meaningful look behind your back.

Sam clears his throat softly, not wanting to intrude on the fragile moment. “Hey,” he says quietly, his voice gentle. “You two are going to be okay.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything but you can feel his quiet support behind you, like ever since he saved you.

“To feel safe around someone's energy is a different kind of intimacy”

- Petra Rush

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #Lifeguard!Bucky #Surfer!Reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction

122 notes · View notes

mokkadere · 25 days ago

Text

❝ Be Your Fix ❞ | Chapter One

A/N: I have too many ideas and too little time to write all of them. Sigh. Well, here you go - a small snippet of what could be yet another pretty long story. I'll probably break it down in snippets and one-shots displaying different scenarios + time jumps to experiment a little with this as well. Anyways, there are too few yandere doctor/psychologist/psychotherapist stories out there, so this is yet another contribution. :')

synopsis: yandere!psychologist (OC) keeps returning home to his lawyer!darling (OC) trying to cope with her mental struggles with alcohol instead of seeking his professional help. When will you learn?

this story includes the following themes: alcohol abuse + dependence, mental health struggles (intrusive thoughts, burnout, breakdowns, anxiety), manipulation, infantilization, obsessive behaviour / fixation, briefly mentioned self-harm

word count: 2.4k

Yandere!Psychologist Theo Reed who returned every evening from the ward to find his darling shivering against the warmest corner of the living room and clutching a bottle of wine.

You looked like such a mess with your unfocused gaze and helpless trembling, but at least he could call this mess his own. He'd never let you down and especially not now that you needed him this desperately.

With long strides, he walked up to you before sitting down on the floor and carefully scooping you into his arms. Even though the situation wasn’t exactly optimal, he loved keeping you close to him like this; he loved having you need him to make you whole again.

„Darling… You really have to stop doing this to yourself,“ he murmured into your ear as he slowly began to rock you back and forth, the steady rhythm stirring your mind awake. His hands - freezing from the December cold - soon found their way to yours, gently wrapping around them before taking away your liquid escape and putting it somewhere out of reach. You didn’t need cheap substitutes anymore, now that he was there to help.

He wanted to ground you. It’s been a long day, after all, and both of you deserved it. His softness slowly guided you back into reality, leaving this numb, hazy state that made you feel like you were hovering outside your body behind. „Come to me,“ he’d coo as he tucked you even closer into him, letting you listen to his heartbeat. You barely registered it but you felt his presence and that was enough for your body to find some respite from this self-induced numbness that now made your head spin.

„H-Hey…“ you slurred as you nuzzled against his neck. Your voice had a certain rasp to it that usually wasn’t there. It seemed like this breakdown had done a number on you, leaving your throat sore. He made a mental note to make you some tea with honey. He’ll be your caretaker tonight.

„Hey, you,“ he mumbled into your ear before giving it a small peck, getting a small noise of satisfaction out of you. He lived for these noises. For them and for the way you squirmed in his arms when he did things to you. But he clearly couldn’t go there, not when you were so out of it, that is. Still, he couldn’t help but smile at your neediness, rewarding it with the kind of pets that always made your entire body tingle.

„I missed y-you…“ you whispered, your tone way too whiny to come out of your mouth on any other sober occasion but you couldn’t help it right now. If you weren’t so intoxicated, you would’ve died from embarrassment from how pathetic you sounded, but right now you were just too exhausted to care. You’ve been waiting for him for hours now, and you were quite literally desperate for him to do his magic and rearrange those broken parts that kept chipping time and time again off that usually so perfectly curated façade of yours.

„I can tell, baby. And I missed you too. Work is always so lonely because you’re not there. My mind constantly kept wandering to you, wondering if you were okay, if you were doing alright on your own… I wish you could’ve been there with me.“

He feels you nod against him, your nose tickling his neck. „H-How w-was work?“ you asked, barely able to string your question together. Every word was a struggle, but you liked struggling for him. Hearing his deep, calming voice in turn made it worth it to you.

„It was very busy, but also quite productive. Some of my patients are making great progress, actually, so I’m really proud of them. I’m sure you’d be proud of them too considering the fact that you were the one that negotiated in their favour in court.“

„Amalia? Reynolds?“

He nodded with a small smile. „But… what I’m way more interested in knowing is how your day went.“ At that he pulled away, letting his fingers tilt your chin up for him to look into your hazy eyes. His thumb rested on you lower lip for your hot breath to warm it. „Mind telling me what happened? Why are you sad again? I thought we agreed that you’d wait for me instead of drinking…“

You stammered countless slurred apologies as your eyes watered, telling him what you always did: that you were sorry, that you didn’t mean to go back on the promise, that you didn’t mean to disappoint him, that you’ll do better in the future, that you were sorry—

„I know you are, darling.“ His calm demeanour painted a stark contrast to the way words seemed to anxiously bubble out of you. „Let’s get you to bed where you can feel a bit more comfortable. That’s enough sitting on the cold, hard floor. You’ll get sick at this rate.“

You clung to him needily, your grip tight despite (or perhaps because of) how much the world was spinning.

Once he set you down on the plush blankets of your shared bed, he carefully cocooned you in them, wanting to make sure you were absolutely tended for while in this compromising state. He knew he’d done a good job when you hid a little further under the sheets, your eyes going half-lidded in comfortable satisfaction.

You let a sleepy hum when you felt him hug your lower body, his head resting on your stomach - one of his favorite positions. It felt so nice to run your fingers through his silky brown locks while his hot breath caressed your sensitive skin. This soothing intimacy he managed to create between the two of you never failed to make you feel safe and cared for. It truly was the only thing that managed to quieten your constantly buzzing mind - it swirling with perpetual, unwanted thoughts.

„Talk to me, darling…“ he pressed once more. „What happened? Was it work?“

„No… ’s fine. I’m alright again… You’re here.“ While those words never failed to make Theo’s chest swell with this desperate need to protect you and to make sure you keep saying those words for years to come, he knew he should try digging deeper. You always did this, you always shot down any attempt at actually talking it out with him. Couldn’t you see how much that hurt him - to have all the necessary tools to help you in terms of knowledge of human psychology, but you refusing to let him in?

„Please… Just talk to me. I want to help you. I want you to be there for you.“ Theo kept quiet, hoping that perhaps the fact that you hated silence would make you open up more just to fill it.

„I’m sorry…“ you whispered once more, making Theo sigh before he pulled himself up to spoon you, making a wave of warm tingles spread throughout your numb body.

„I just wish you’d share with me. It breaks my heart to keep finding you trembling from nerves every evening, clutching those bottles. It’s… unlike the strong and confident woman I married.“ He hesitated saying that last sentence, knowing that you hated being compared to your old selves, the very thought of you having changed for the worse and having lost a perfectly good version of yourself along the way causing you anxiety.

For a long while you didn’t say anything and he figured you might’ve dozed off at this point. It certainly wasn’t the first time you did that. Wine made you sleepy quickly like that, and while he found it adorable, he found it equal parts frustrating. He was about to leave bed to make you some tea for when you inevitably woke up an hour later, but then you finally spoke up hesitantly: „I don’t know how to explain it without sounding absolutely unhinged…“

„Come on, try me,“ Theo countered, feeling hopeful.

„It’s like my brain is constantly screaming at me to do or not to do something - constantly buzzing, nagging, always making me so anxious that my entire body starts t-to shake,“ you whispered, those long unsaid words finally being splayed in the open. Faint anxiety began to creep into your voice once more. It felt numb, but it still lingered, threatening to spill over once the wine’s soothing effect has been washed away from your system completely. „I feel messed up. Fifty percent of the time I’m so frustrated because there’s so much work for me to do, so many cases to look over and so many letters to write, and my mind keeps yelling at me to keep going and going and going— to just do one more thing, despite having said that ten things ago, despite feeling like I’m running on fumes.“

You drew a shaky breath, feeling defeated by your own words. It hurt to admit things like that. You knew what you had just said, it didn’t require a psychology degree to recognize symptoms of burnout for what they were.

„My darling girl… come here.“ Theo murmured into your ear as he pressed you closer to his body, and you would’ve pulled away like a child and glared at him for patronizing you like that but you didn’t have the energy to put up a fight this time. You just let him hold you tightly, finding a comfortable sense of calm in the way he petted your head affectionally.

It was clear to him that you needed his help — not just as your husband but as your doctor, too. He didn’t mind taking hours off to care for you, far from it. He welcomed it, with excitement even. He’s always wanted to have you as his little patient, for what was more beautiful than healing his own most treasured person the way you had healed him?

He felt a tiny bit bad that a part of him longed for this broken version of you, when he knew just how unhappy you were with your vulnerability. He loved you, he cared for you and he didn’t want you to suffer a second of your life. In fact, if he were to decide, you’d forever life in bliss, just you and him forever and ever with no distractions… ah, how perfect that would be. Perhaps bliss could be him taking care of you, if only you would let him.

But you were so damn stubborn with the way you kept to yourself like this, bottling your feelings up until they exploded in your face in the form of yet another destructive breakdown, and making him question time and time again if he should maybe just hurry and lock you at the hospital to take care of you better. You absolutely needed his professional attention, that much he knew. In fact, you’ve been needing it for a long time now.

He’s known you for 6 years now and even in the beginning he was able to tell that you had some underlying issues tied to your work ethics specifically.

What had begun as quiet admiration for your ambition and will to work hard and succeed didn’t take long to morph into worry whenever he saw you study until exhaustion, pulling one allnighter after the other. Sometimes he couldn’t tell whether blood or coffee was primarily coursing though your veins, with the way you chugged one Americano after the other to sustain your absurd lifestyle. Either way, you were too jittery by default for him to come to a solid conclusion.

Still, in the back of his mind he always kept thinking that it wasn’t normal how much you obsessed over your work and how badly you stressed yourself out over achievements and academics. Pacing for countless hours in your room, surely trying to figure what’s wrong with you if your google history was anything to go by; crying yourself to sleep whenever you had tears to spare; hurting yourself when you didn’t have any because of the sheer numbness and resignation that were accumulating within you - all these symptoms were worrisome, to put it mildly. But all that disappeared once you got your fix, just for everything to start anew in the next semester. And now you perpetuated this cycle by applying those distructive habits to your work and even escalating them in the form of alcohol abuse.

He never addressed the fact that he was indeed aware of your hyper-fixation on success and your clear need to do everything in your power to achieve it, mainly because it didn’t make sense to do so in his mind. Countless strained discussions between the two of you have shown that you were the type of person that needed to experience a burn first hand for the lesson to stick (and that wasn’t even guaranteed), so he figured that he just had to wait and support you until you inevitably wore yourself out. He just never would’ve thought that it would take six years for that to happen.

Needless to say, he was truly amazed by your year-long resistence to the way you were torturing your own mind, but now it was time to rest. He’s always known that you were the strongest person he’s ever had the honour of knowing, yet your strength was paradoxically also creating a blind spot in your psyche that let a special kind of fragility to fester.

One that he’s always been meant to mend to perfectly match his own.

„Don’t worry, my Ana, I’ll help you feel like before. Just rest for now… You trust me, don’t you?“

#fiction #yan blog #yanblr #yandere #yanderecore #lovesick #male yandere #obsessive love #obslove #yandere x darling #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #soft yandere #yandere psychologist x lawyer darling #yandere psychologist #yandere imagines #yandere doctor

44 notes · View notes

positive-mystic · 9 days ago

Text

Self care isn't selfish! Here are some self care tips

1. Establish a Morning Routine: Start your day with intention—stretch, meditate, or journal for clarity.

2. Hydrate Regularly: Aim for at least 8 glasses of water a day.

3. Listen to your hunger cues

4. Move Your Body: Exercise for at least 30 minutes daily, whether it’s walking, yoga, or dancing.

5. Prioritize Sleep: Stick to a consistent bedtime and ensure 7-9 hours of rest.

6. Take Breaks: Step away from work or screens regularly to reset.

7. Practice Mindfulness: Spend 5-10 minutes meditating or practicing deep breathing.

8. Say “No” When Needed: Set boundaries to protect your energy and time.

9. Declutter Your Space: A clean environment can enhance your mental clarity.

10. Spend Time in Nature: Walk, hike, or sit outside to recharge.

11. Engage in a Hobby: Dedicate time to an activity you enjoy—painting, reading, or gardening.

12. Socialize Meaningfully: Connect with friends or family who uplift you.

13. Unplug from Technology: Limit social media and screen time when feeling overwhelmed.

14. Pamper Yourself: Take a long bath, use a face mask, or enjoy your favorite tea.

15. Practice Gratitude: Write down 3 things you're thankful for each day.

16. Limit Negative Inputs: Avoid toxic relationships or draining content.

17. Seek Professional Help if Needed: Therapy or counseling can be invaluable.

18. Celebrate Small Wins: Acknowledge and reward your efforts, no matter how small.

19. Learn Something New: Keep your mind engaged with fresh challenges.

20. Be Gentle with Yourself: Allow space for mistakes and rest when needed.

Self-care is personal—find what resonates with you and make it a habit!

#mental health #positive #positive mental attitude #positive thoughts #positivity #self care #you are enough #you are loved #you are not alone #you matter #self care tips #self love #self care isn't selfish #self care is important #lear to love yourself #listen to your body

42 notes · View notes

littlefireball · 2 months ago

Text

ᴊʜ|ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ꜱ*x (ᴍ)

ʜɪʀᴇᴅ ɢᴜɴ! ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ x ʜɪʀᴇᴅ ɢᴜɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ|ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴘʟᴏᴛ|ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.9ᴋ

As you lay on the couch, feeling the effects of the alcohol swirling in your head, your cheeks flushed and your body radiating heat, you struggled to keep your eyes open. Despite your low alcohol tolerance, you had indulged in four bottles of soju. Jongho sighed and went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of honey water to help you sober up.

Returning with the glass, he placed it in front of you, urging you to drink it to alleviate the impending hangover. You waved him off, insisting that you were not drunk and didn't need it, content to remain in your haze.

"I am not drunk~I don't want it!"

Seeing your resistance, Jongho sighed softly again, understanding your stubbornness, and gently lifted you into his arms, offering you the glass of honey water.

"Just drink it, it will make you feel better," he coaxed, his voice laced with concern.

You pouted, claiming once more that you were not drunk, but as you met his gaze, softened by a hint of innocence, you couldn't help but give in. With a playful remark about the redness of your face, Jongho encouraged you to drink the honey water, to which you begrudgingly complied, downing it in one go.

"Hm~Finished~Am I good~?I drink them all~~~"

Satisfied, you leaned into him, seeking comfort in his embrace, a rare display of vulnerability from your typically composed self.

In your intoxicated state, a different side of you emerged, one that was affectionate and endearing, a stark contrast to the fierce and stoic persona you usually presented, especially in your professional life. Jongho couldn't help but marvel at this unexpected glimpse into your true self, a side that few had the privilege to witness. You looked very adorable.

"Haha! Your face is so red~~You're drunk~~" You pointed at his reddened face and laughed.

"No, it's not! Huh...hm...why did you drink so much?"

Curious about your uncharacteristic drinking, Jongho gently inquired, knowing well your aversion to alcohol due to your low tolerance. Your vulnerability could be exploited by others, a risk you couldn't afford to take as a hired gun. You nearly passed out on the street if Jongho hadn't phoned to bring you back.

"Don't people say alcohol can help me forget something bad?" He looked at you with a puzzled expression, listening to your ramblings.

"Why...you!! Teaming up with another woman while ignoring me!! I'm clearly better than that bitch!!" Even though you were drunk, your words didn't seem to be affected.

Your candid response revealed a hint of jealousy and insecurity, emotions that you rarely displayed openly. Despite your inebriation, your feelings were raw and unfiltered, catching Jongho off guard.

As you expressed your frustrations and desires, Jongho couldn't help but be amused by your candidness, a mix of jealousy and affection shining through.

"I'm your partner!!" He discerned your jealousy...did you feel envious? Really? He couldn't help but smile. He was amused by your cuteness and it turned out that you had different thoughts about him. Jongho has never been sure whether you are interested in him, but he has been secretly in love with you.

"Why didn't you reply to me?" Your words snapped him back to reality.

"Huh?Oh...that woman..."

"I don't want to know that bitch." It made you angry to think that the woman Jongho was working with often took the opportunity to cling to him.

Jongho hesitated to speak, but finally decided to let you have a good rest.

"Don't think too much, hm? I have nothing to do with that woman. Rest well and don't drink that much. You know you can't drink." He said softly, laid you down gently on the sofa, placed a blanket on you and ready to leave.

"Wait..." You immediately sat up and in a moment of boldness, you pulled him closer, your actions speaking louder than words as you shared a fleeting kiss, a silent confession of unspoken feelings. He widened his eyes because of surprise but yet didn't kiss you back and you left his lips.

"Hmm... I've made it so obvious, yet you don't even react?" You, who had been teasing moments before, suddenly grew serious, leaving him to wonder if you were truly intoxicated or simply feigning it.

"I..." Upon noticing his reaction, you turned your head away and loosened your grip slightly, muttering, "It seems like you don't like me..." His anxiety spiked at these words, prompting him to quickly interject, "I never said I didn't like you, darling." He playfully tapped your forehead, offered a warm smile, and then tenderly kissed your lips.

You reciprocated the kiss, and the intensity between your bodies heightened. He flexed his arms, drawing you closer by grasping your shoulder. Your hands instinctively moved to unbutton his shirt, while he reached to pull down your strap, revealing your scarred chest.

A wave of sadness washed over him at the sight, as he longed to touch you, as if to mend your wounds. With utmost respect, he leaned in and planted another gentle kiss on your lips.

"I like you, Y/N..." His words moved you to tears and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Your chests were close to each other and his erect cock was completely pressed against your lower body as you opened your legs wide.

"Please, jjong."

His lips moved to your earlobe, your jaw, then your collarbone, leaving a trail of hickeys. He licked your reddened skin and dropped a kiss on it proudly. "You're mine." His hands caressed along the curves of your body, squeezing from time to time, giving you goosebumps.

As if asking for your permission, his hand wandered to your lower core and stopped.

"Give me...I want you to fuck me." "Don't be impatient, princess. I have to prepare you." Without a second's hesitation, he reached into your panties and inserted his fingers into your cunt. "Hmm..." The sudden itching sensation made you cry out.

As the movements of his hands increased, you tilted your head and moaned in comfort, and your cunt became increasingly wet. Seeing your reaction, he inserted another finger and rubbed it inside.

"You're so fucking wet." His three fingers reached your deepest part and kept hitting it with different gestures and angles. You couldn't help but moan loudly and threw your head to the armrest.

"Ha...ha..." The numbing feeling combined with the effect of the wine made you feel that your consciousness was becoming more blurred. He kissed your neck, making erotic kissing sounds, and nibbling your neck gently. He whispered in your ear with a magnetic voice.

"I really want you..."

You didn't respond and just continued to make erotic screams. Kissing your moist lips again, he withdrew his hands from your cunt and quickly took off his lower clothes. The tightness of his trousers had already made him feel very uncomfortable. His huge angry cock was covered with pre cum and it seemed eager to enter you.

You widen your eyes slightly, worried if it fits you. Seeing your worries, he gently touched your head and whispered "It's okay, you can take it."

You couldn't help but let go of his lips and moaned loudly even though only his tip entered you. You held his head and let him kiss your breasts wantonly. He slowly pushed inside as he didn't want to hurt you.

"Hmm...jjong..."

"fuck...don't call me this I can't last." His cock twitched when you called his pet name. Fuck, he loved your voice so much.

"Ah...!" He pushed hard suddenly, inserting it as deep as possible. He slowly withdrew and then inserted it into your soaked cunt with force again, feeling the warmness of your wall. Every thrust made you hold your breath.

Although he was not fast at all, the intensity was REALLY strong. "Jjong~faster~" "Fuck my honey." He clasped his fingers with you, and his speed suddenly increased. His tip hit every sensitive spot, making you shiver. The sound of skin slapping skin was echoing in the living room, combined with both of your groaning, everything was just overwhelming.

You bent my leg and wrapped around his waist, allowing him to go deeper. Suddenly, he reached your g spot and made you moan shyly and squirmed. Jongho definitely spotted that as he kept fucking the same spot again and again.

"Ah...um...ha! Jongho~" You couldn't say anything but jongho. His name was the only thing in your mind. "Babe, I want you to ride me." You held his face, kissed his red lips and let him pull you up and the two of you switched positions in an instant.

You sat on top of him and kissed him without stopping. His tongue slid into your mouth and tasted your sweetness. This position allowed him to push deeper. You imitated his movements and bounced up and down, the sound of the collision of flesh being loud. Every time you sunk down, you both groaned so loudly that your neighbors must complain tomorrow.

But you both didn't care. His hands reached under your clothes and up into your bra, squeezing your breasts and rubbing circles on your nipples. "Hmm...ha..." This undoubtedly stimulated your sexual desire even more, and the movements began to become more intense.

He unclasped your bra and took off your cloth, leaving your breasts exposed. He licked and kissed, sucking your breasts selflessly, planting red hickeys. You raised your head and enjoyed the pleasure beneath your body.

"You're so beautiful. I wanna make you my cum pocket." He totally went insane as he fucked you without mercy and gentleness. Your breasts bounced intensely and your moaning became intermittent. "AH~jjong~I...I" "Wanna cum, huh?" "Hmmm..." You had a knot in your stomach, and you feel like you've reached your limit, like you were going to explode any second.

"Just wait for me, hm? Be my good girl."

He encircled your legs around his waist, abruptly lifted you up, and proceeded directly to the bed. Putting you on the bed and then reentering you. The thrusts were swift and forceful this time, and your groans reinforced the increasing intensity.

"Ahhhhh..." He placed your right leg on his shoulder and he continued to fuck you. His tip went straight to your g spot without any error and the friction from his stem and your velvet wall pushed both of you to the climax.

"Fuck fuck fuck!!" With the embarrassing sound of kissing and skin slapping skin you came so hard and your hot juices creamed his thick cock. "Oh shit!" Both warmth and wetness sensation broke through his limit and he came all in your cunt after a few thrust and a loud moan.

"Oh my god...that's incredible." After he was done, he pushed in twice more before slowly withdrawing. Seeing your tired face, he couldn't help but feel a little heartbroken... and even felt guilty.

Was he too rough?

"Am I too rough? Does it hurt?" He placed your hair behind your ear and pecked your forehead. His gazes were full of tenderness and love, that's why you fall in love with him.

"If I want to do it one more time, can you do it?" You smirked and wrapped around his neck with your arms.

"You..."

"Do you think I'm really drunk?" You pecked at his lips when he was about to speak, and pressed against him. Unwilling to let you take away the dominance, he flipped you over.

"Are you really drunk or are you just pretending?"

"What do you think?" You smiled, opened your legs and wrapped them around Jongho's waist.

"You said you wanted to do it again. I'm not gentle this time."

"You were not gentle last time."

"Just fuck me as your fuck doll." He pecked you with a smile, then his tongue slid into your mouth again.

Another session of intense sex begins.

tag list:@angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez jongho

42 notes · View notes