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marvelstoriesepic · 4 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

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reidsdimples · 10 months ago

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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

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disasterofastory · 2 years ago

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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

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positive-mystic · 3 months ago

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If you're struggling with self-harm urges, here are some alternatives that might help distract, express emotions, or soothe yourself in healthier ways:

Distraction Techniques

Physical Activity: Go for a walk, run, or exercise.

Creative Outlets: Draw, paint, write, or play music.

Gaming or Puzzles: Play a video game, solve a puzzle, or try a brain teaser.

Watch or Listen: Watch a movie, listen to music, or a podcast.

Clean or Organize: Tidy your room, rearrange furniture, or sort items.

Sensory Strategies

Touch: Hold an ice cube, wear a rubber band around your wrist and snap it gently, or try a stress ball.

Sound: Listen to calming or uplifting music.

Sight: Watch relaxing visuals like nature videos or look at calming images.

Taste: Eat something flavorful, like a sour candy or a favorite treat.

Smell: Use a soothing scent, such as lavender or peppermint essential oil.

Emotional Expression

Write It Out: Journal your feelings or write a letter you don’t send.

Talk to Someone: Call a friend, family member, or a crisis hotline.

Art Therapy: Channel emotions into creating something.

Cry or Scream: Let it out safely in a private space.

Grounding Techniques

5-4-3-2-1 Method: Identify 5 things you see, 4 you feel, 3 you hear, 2 you smell, and 1 you taste.

Deep Breathing: Focus on slow, deep breaths.

Body Awareness: Try yoga, stretching, or progressive muscle relaxation.

Alternative Sensations

Hold Ice Cubes: Feel the cold to redirect focus.

Draw on Skin: Use a marker to create designs instead of harm.

Squeeze Something: Use a stress ball, clay, or Play-Doh.

Self-Soothing Activities

Take a Bath or Shower: Focus on the warmth and relaxation.

Wrap Up: Use a weighted blanket or soft comforter.

Self-Care: Do skincare, brush your hair, or practice hygiene.

Support Resources

Hotlines:

Crisis Text Line – Text HOME to 741741 (U.S.)

Call 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline in the U.S.)

International Hotlines

Therapists: Seek professional help for underlying emotions.

Remember, urges often pass if you delay them and distract yourself. You’re not alone, and reaching out for support can make a big difference.

#mental health #positive #positive mental attitude #positive thoughts #positivity #self care #you are enough #you are loved #you matter #self h@rm alternatives #you are not alone #try these instead #coping skills

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mokkadere · 3 months ago

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❝ 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

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littlest-bugz · 25 days ago

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Was I supposed to know that???

[a non-definitive list of things I wish I had known in early CDD system discovery]

When you are first discovering your system, or are just finding out you have some form of CDD [complex dissociative disorder], things can be really confusing and scary. Memories and Alters may surface, you might get more dissociative symptoms [or become aware of them], and just a bunch more that adds to a feeling of disorientation with your own life and identity. Things are uncertain and stressful, but I assure you, everything is okay and you will come out on top of things safely!

In the beginning of rediscovering my own system in 2021, I was really lost because I didn't turn to the internet for resources or go to professionals for help. I was almost entirely in the blind when I was getting to know my system! I didn't interact with any other systems or seek out CDD specific advice and care until December of 2023. That's all to say I was in a similar position as you may be. I was quite lost, confused, and scared as I was coming to terms with the fact that I, as an alter, did not have full control over the body and what we did, and that my memory could, and had, fail me. It was just an uncertain time, but now that I'm into recovery, I know that there are things that would've helped me going into system discovery...

If you're an already discovered system [i.e. you already know and have established contact], maybe you will learn something new or maybe you will come out with a new outlook on something! Or it might not help at all! Which is okay because everyone is different!

That being said... Strap in! this post is EXTREMELY long! [this is not an understatement- this post is criminally long]

Notes : Before I jump into the numerous points of this post, I have to preface this post with the fact of this post may be discouraging at times. I'm being so serious, but in my opinion, this post has important points. The only issue is that what I'm saying can come across as negative or fakeclaim-y, but I am not fake claiming anyone in this post! Do not take what I say personally!! I don't know who's reading this! You could be my best friend or a stranger from across the world! So you have to remember to take things with a grain of salt because, as you'll see immediately in the first point you know you better than anyone else does. I do not know you personally, nor do I know your system or situation. Take what resonates with you, and leave the rest, if that makes sense? Just hear me out before you dismiss this post as not worth your time.

Now we can actually get into the post!

-> DO NOT LET SOCIAL MEDIA WARP YOUR PERCEPTION OF CDDS OR YOUR SYSTEM

This is more a warning than the rest of this post because this is THE MOST important part of early system discovery. While I did not personally engage in most social medias during my own system discovery, this is a point I know will be important for others, especially those in early system discovery... But what do I mean by this?

Well, for starters, this is the main reason why a lot of systems struggle with validating themselves and their system. It is not healthy to compare your system to other systems. It is not healthy to look at other systems, not relate, and think that somehow means you're not a 'real system'. While sharing experiences and discussing your system, as well as listening to the experiences of other systems, is beneficial, comparing yourself to other systems will make you feel like shit. This is where a majority of posts dealing with invalidity come from. You let the internet and misinformation to shape how you view systemhood as a whole.

The notion that a large alter count is invalid is from social media.

The notion that a system is 'too complex' is from social media.

The notion that there is such a thing as too many introjects is from social media.

Seriously, I could go on. These do not matter at all, and those are not the only examples I have seen [just the most common]. Having a complex system, being introject heavy, and/or having a large system are all seen in scientific material, so the notion that it somehow makes you invalid is based in comparison and social media misinformation. You need to keep your head on your shoulders when interacting with social media, or you will damage your relationship with systemhood. Not to mention, you may internalize misinformation!

For some, not comparing themselves to others is MUCH easier said than done. I used to be one of those people! And I still am sometimes! but that's something I am working on. Which... For the sake of not only you as an alter, but also your system, I am seriously suggesting you to work on validating yourself via self help or a therapist. From one system to another, working on this will limit your denial phases and imposter syndrome. Like I said before, I'm a chronic compare-er, but when I learned to validate myself and my system, I no longer go through denial phases as a collective. Self Validation is the biggest key to flourishing as not only as a system, but also a key to thriving in life. Obviously validation from other's isn't harmful in any capacity and is very much required to flourish as a person too, but you seriously shouldn't give a fuck about people online who try to invalidate your system or system structure. Let me repeat that in a more direct way...

YOU KNOW YOU BETTER THAN SOME ASSHOLE ON THE INTERNET.

You know you even better than me too! Obviously!

With self validation, I will not leave you empty handed because simply saying "do this" is not enough for this point. I'll give you a few links and resources that will help kickstart your journey into self validation while discovering your system.

Here's my self-help link masterlist for self validation [this is a link]

-> POINT ONE ALSO INCLUDES AVOIDING SYSCOURSE.

I cannot stress how bad syscourse is for you, especially in early system discovery. From what I have seen from the very few syscourse blogs I follow, as well as mutuals and friends i talk to, it is draining and harmful for your mental health. I don't personally believe in engaging with syscourse, so I avoid it when I can- maybe I'll read a post or two, but I don't throw myself or system into it. I can imagine debating can be fun, but most syscourse is not real debating. Emphasis on *most* because I have seen real debate in syscourse spaces. Sadly though, the majority of posts I see within syscourse tags are either riddled with misinformation- from both of the sides of syscourse- or are filled with unwarranted vitriol [again, from both sides]. Not to mention the MANY posts of well researched systems just tiredly correcting the same things over and over and over again. My advice? Ignore it! Just stick to the silly memes, text posts, ask games, and informational posts. If later, when you feel more secure in your system and you want to engage with it, I support that! Just avoid it in the beginning.

-> Trauma is the response to the event, NOT the event

Thankfully, I've seen this talked about more than once in the system community, but I think it's important to talk about this here too. In order to explain this point properly, we have to discuss what trauma is. So... what is trauma?

" [Psychological] Trauma is the unique individual experience of an event or enduring conditions, in which: 1. The individual's ability to integrate his/her emotional experience is overwhelmed, or 2. The individual experiences (subjectively) a threat to life, bodily integrity, or sanity. (Pearlman & Saakvitne, 1995, p. 60) " [source]

What does this mean in the context of CDDs?

For one, a lot of systems have a hard time seeing certain traumas as traumatic for whatever reason, and for two, it's important to be reminded of this fact when going through system discovery. It's very common to be dissociated from all or most of your trauma in some fashion, whether it be emotional amnesia or black out amnesia. That means it doesn't 'feel' traumatic or there just isn't anything there. As you go through system discovery, its very highly likely that you, or your alters, will uncover trauma of some kind. Whether it be examples of emotional neglect or specific traumas, but sometimes it can be hard to accept that it was trauma or that you went through whatever. It's also common for people to misconstrue that trauma is a specific type of event when it just. is not. A lot of things can be traumatic, and someone's reaction to the same trauma will even be different.

TW: Car Crash talk, but nothing graphic.

I'll give you an example. Imagine four people got into a car crash together. Each person will have a unique response to that event. The driver becomes deeply traumatized and can never step foot in a car, the front passenger finds a weird thrill in it and seeks out similar experiences, back passenger one is traumatized but able to work through it, and the final passenger walks out fine, with no trauma. This is an example of that fact- that everyone reacts differently to the same or a similar event. One person can be deeply traumatized by, let's say, bullying, but another person may learn how to not care about what people think.

Trauma is unique to you, and you alone. What you find traumatic will not be exactly the same as another person.

I will say there are exceptions I can think of where it is always traumatic for a child, but it applies there too. Each child's response to a certain trauma is unique. This point kind of lines up perfectly with the next point because the very common misconception that trauma IS the event is built in misinformation and social media comparison [there it is again].

-> You should do your own research, but keep in mind some of the information you will find about CDDs may be outdated or filled with misinformation.

This is also important when you're getting to know your system because the first step to system discovery is doing research on your diagnosis or suspected disorder. It can help with validation because it is an external source of it! Seeing a medical paper or article that describes symptoms that align with yours is super validating! Not to mention seeing more than just one? It's amazing how much it truly helps with validation! HOWEVER. I would also extend your research into other dissociative disorders [such as DR/DP, P-DID, OSDD etc], as well as Maladaptive Daydreaming, since you may find co-morbidities or that your experience lines up better with another disorder. This is not to say you AREN'T a system, but it is an important point to bring up. It can just be that you have a different type of system than you thought! For example, believing you're an OSDD system, only to discover with research that your experience aligns more with DID.

This leads into the fact that when you're doing research on DID or any other of the CDDs that exist, you are likely to encounter misinformation, whether it be outdated information in articles or reading something on tumblr that just isn't factual! This can be confusing and mess up your ideas on what a system might look like or present as. It can even affect how you view your own system! That's why you have to do your own research! Researching can even bring validation to your experience when you research CDDs!

I will provide a few cursory resources that you may want to read as you begin researching! Keep in mind that these links do NOT account for full, proper research. This is just your kickstart!

Here's the masterlist of cursory DID research links [this is a link]

I will also add that looking into other's experience with CDDs is also a part of research! It's important to look into the experiences of other systems, but keep in mind the first point regarding self validation and comparison.

-> Identity, even in CDDs, is fluid.

A very basic and simple sum up of what DID is:

DID is the result of an inability to integrate the facets of an individuals personality during early childhood, usually due to multiple trauma-based reactions [such as neglect, abuse, natural disaster, war and other adverse experiences]. (Thank u Circ for ur help!!)

... and why do I bring this up?

Within a person who has integrated, and therefor does not have a CDD, those facets all still exist. The only difference is that they are more cohesive and as one, but all the facets are are still there. Identity within EVERYONE is fluid. Things change for even singlets! As you grow as a person, your identity shifts to reflect what you have learned. Like someone might find a gender identity they hadn't heard of that feels just right or they come across a new term that fits them better than the previous one- or they use it for a while and feel it doesn't fit them in the end. Things like this happen to everyone, including individual alters. This means you may have an alter that identifies as one gender, one sexuality, and it may change- that can be REALLY confusing as you're discovering your system because you may assume that it's a new alter all together, when it isn't.

Why I wish I knew this in early system discovery is because it would've saved me A LOT of headache when trying to log and keep track of alters. It can get really draining when you assume that every little identity shift is a new alter when it just simply is not. Sometimes it is, especially in systems where the alters present as very similar to each other, but I would stick to assuming they are not an alter until proven otherwise. This really only applies when you think you are a new alter, and not when it is through internal communication because, in my opinion, internal communication is more reliable when you're tracking alters. It's good to have an alter to 'back you up' so to speak, but it won't always be like that, especially in the beginning. This kind of leads me into my next point of this point [haha... point-ception].

-> System Discovery, and systemhood, in general, is a lot of guesstimations [guess work].

I just recently saw a post about this in the CDD tags. I actually think it's by the same author of the tumblr post I linked, but I wanted to elaborate and go into it in my own perspective. A lot of discovering your system is guess work and reading 'vibes'. This applies to a lot of aspects of systemhood- from an alter's identity to you're headcount [which I will get to later in this point]. It makes everything extremely confusing, meaning it can cause you to feel confused and discouraged, and memories that surface may seem unreal. When it comes to validating yourself and your system, you need to keep in mind that, once again, you know you better than someone else. Sometimes, there won't be external validation for things that come up with your system, such as memories that seem to have 'no evidence', but my therapist gave me some advice for this; if it's affecting you as if it's real, it's best to treat it like it is. This applies to things like body and other flashbacks. Maybe even extending to you thinking you may have a system! You have to learn to validate from the inside to know that, regardless of if it's ""real"" or not, it affects you. Does that make sense? If not I can make a follow up post to better clarify.

I mentioned headcount, and I do want to elaborate on that especially. Your Alter count is a huge amount of guess work, and is never really "concrete". You will never know cut and dry the amount of alters in your system because things fluctuate and identity is fluid. You will likely see people with a listed, exact alter count, and while that is there lived experience, things even change with people you see on the internet.

-> Alters can lie

This one is possibly the most discouraging part of this post, but a very important point to bring up. Alters, despite being the result of a failure to integrate as a child, are very much like their own people [at least, when differentiated], and people can, and do, lie. This is not to say you can’t trust your alters, but rather a reminder to be mindful when interacting with your alters, especially if you’re working with a persecutor of some kind. This is one of the ways your brain defends itself within CDDs, and isn’t any sort of moral failing on you or your alters. Alters lying can look like lying about your trauma [either exaggerating or hiding it], lying about themself, lying about aspects of the system, or other different ways.

For my fellow OCD havers ;

This is something that still messes me up with my OCD. Here is my advice to you ; if there is an alter you trust more than the others, ask for their help to be a rationalizer when you're talking to alters you feel you may not trust as much as the others. This works best if it's a gatekeeper, but it's not a necessity for the alter to be one. This is not meant to be an interrogation. It's meant to help with cross referencing. One alter might say one thing to that alter, but tell you another thing. Otherwise, my advice is to remember that if it's affecting you as if it's real, it's best to treat it like it is.

-> Start keeping a nightly journal.

Whether this be in the notes app or in a physical journal, trust me, this is a good one. Not only will it help you keep a good grasp on what your days look like, but it can also encourage external communication, which is one of the most reliable ways to communicate as a system. Sometimes it can be hard to get everyone to get on board with journaling, but I encourage you to try. I would say that you try to subconciously try to build up the idea of doing things even when you don't want to- its a hard thing to do, but if I can do it, I have confidence in the majority of people who read this post... Keep the journal in a noticeable place, or if it's on your phone, make sure that it is easily accessible. There are plenty of apps that can be used to journal as a system.

What to do if journaling is not accessible ;

If for, whatever reason, you can not write in a physical journal, or type on your phone or computer, I suggest taking voice recorded journal entries. An audio log! Not only will it make you feel cool and like you're from a detective movie [or maybe that's just me lol], but it also accomplishes the same exact purpose as having a physical journal. It can even make it easier for you if you have struggles reading. HOWEVER, if you don't feel safe enough to keep an audio log, I would go towards an app that you can use [but if it's not accessible, negate this whole point].

-> Communication is hard, but once you learn the basics, it only goes up from there.

In the system community, you're mainly interacting with other systems who have already established some form of communication within their system. It can be discouraging to see so many systems who have a grasp on communication, but you don't have any.

Learning any form of system communication, external or internal, is a learning curve. HOWEVER. When you learn the basics of any communication, it only gets easier.

Here's a link to a post full of links aimed at building communication between systems [this is a link]

With that, I'm going to end the post here! I could honestly make more points, and if there's really a need, I'll reblog with additions, but I think this is good start! I hope you learned something from this long post, and feel free to send in asks if you need any clarification! I might not be speedy to answer, but I'll do my best.

And your final reminder that I'm not a medical professional, just a system trying to help other systems.

Thank you for reading my post, and I hope you have a good day/afternoon/evening!

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luckykiwiii101 · 25 days ago

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i wanna speak for all the bloggers/normal people who are getting accused for something. when the accuser has no proof in return.

do not listen or even entertain these bloggers because thats what they want, they seek drama and their life revolves around it because they have nobody else to talk to outside of tumblr. (they’re lonely and can’t manifest anything) and then when they do prove they manifested something its always “i manifested 500!! i manifested my SP!! i manifested my followers” but heres the thing. they never manifested something PHYSICAL (aka physical changes) its always objects which is funny. but let someone say they manifested their desired body and moved to Malaysia all of a sudden they’re a RCTA and a liar because they don’t have proof LMAO.

just because someone wants to move to japan doesn’t make them fetishize asia, just because someone wants to move to korea doesn’t make them a koreaboo, just because someone wants to move to china doesn’t make them a chinaboo, just because someone wants to move to any part of Asia South Asia/Central Asia/East Asia/ South east Asia or whatever DOES NOT MEAN A PERSON WANTS TO BE ASIAN

the only reason some of you people think its “asiabooism” (not a word) is because you solely think this person wants to be Asian. have you “wannabe exposers” EVER thought that a person is mixed with asian? “oh!!! but they’re always mixed with chinese or japanese or korean💔💔💔!!) news flash bitch its the world. not everyone is gonna be mixed with Indian, Taiwanese, Cantonese, Filipino, Vietnamese, Fuckanese, Dickanese or Thai or whatever the hell else.

you pathetic bloggers wanna expose people so BADDD and it’s hilarious, are you that sad at home? that you come online to harass others. call me scary because im anon idc. but wait!! since you can discover liars then come discover who’s anon since you’re soooo good at discovering things.

some of you need to seek help, professionally.

btw lucky all these people claiming you’re texting yourself these success stories are the same people that ask anonymously for people to manifest for them, love you and your blog ❤️.

Spoke nothing but facts!! Ly222 ♥️

#void state #void #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loassumption #loa blog #loablr #manifestation #loa #the void state

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star1ight0 · 8 months ago

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Katsuki Bakugou x Reader "Not any different"

Tw for SH and scars

Requests are open

You got off of work early and thought it'd be a good idea to order out for dinner and clean whilst you had the chance. Your job as a healer keeps you busy and your quirk: garden allows you to grow plants from the earth and your body and you mainly used to grow plants to help heal wounds.

Katsuki would come home wounded and refused help from anyone but you. Today however he seemed more needy and touchy. This happened when he was stressed and overwhelmed so you didn't mind this vulnerable and needy side of him.

He placed a kiss on your forehead and wrapped his arms around you kissing your neck and pulling you into him

" Hello to you do Katsuki"

"sorry, hi "

" It's fine something on your mind?"

"no just you"

He trail kisses down your neck sliding his hands up from underneath your shirt pulling it off and kissing you more pushing you onto the couch. "Fuck love, you make me feel so, . Calm, I hate it" he says kissing you and leaving a small hickey on your chest slowly moving downward. You let out a small gasp and wrapped your arms around him feeling him move closer.

He makes his way down kissing you and praising you for every noise you make. As he meets you waistline slowly pulling your pants off you push him off. "Wait, stop, just -" you stop, trying to catch your breath

"Hey, you okay? Was I .. moving too fast or.."

He says looking up at you

"No it's not you it's just that i- " you stop yourself looking down at the scars on your thighs made from thorn vines. He follows your eyes seeing the scars then looking back up at you.

Hey, did someone do this do you.

No katsuki It was me, so just stop and let me get dressed.. please.

You pull away putting your shirt back on and just as you try to walk away katsuki wraps his hands around your wrist.

"I can't.. heal you like you heal me. But I can help. I might not know how to comfort you directly but I can listen. I can hold you. So stop being so damn stubborn and help me help you damnit. "

You look over at him eyes wide but grateful.

Do you want to talk about this.?

No not really. . Not tonight at least.

You say leaning into his touch

HEY HEY HEY!! my Tumblr is being strange on my phone so I'm using my laptop. Ben a little burnt out recently but Im getting there. Requests are open

There are people and places to go to if you want to seek professional help please remember that

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littlefireball · 4 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

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