#it’s like i can’t even do anything anymore … | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewritingrowlet · 2 days ago

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The Office Romance pt. 2, ft. tripleS Seoyeon

tags: creampie, anal, blowjob, food play, rough, daddy kink

length: almost 10k

author's note: I remember you guys liked the first Seoyeon anal fic, so here's another one—enjoy!

“Ngh, ngh—oh, fuck!”

Only these sounds escape Seoyeon’s lips as she tries to cope with your cock that’s invading her ass. You’re no better, though; despite being able to speak coherently, the words that come out of your lips are dirty to say the least.

“Oh, fuck, how are you always so tight, baby? You’re so fucking amazing.”

Seoyeon lifts her face off the pillow momentarily. “P-please cum; I-I can’t take much of this anymore,” she begs. It was her idea to do anal this midnight—after your previous load went into her pussy—and you’re simply playing along, but now that she’s visibly uncomfortable, you don’t feel like continuing.

You slowly pull your cock out of her rear and flip her onto her back. “Oh, I’m so sorry, baby,” you wipe some tears off her plump cheeks. “It was so painful, wasn’t it?” Seoyeon nods. “I-I thought I would’ve been able to handle it, but apparently not.” You pull her into an embrace after lying down next to her. “I’m very happy that you’re putting my pleasure as one of your top priorities, but at the same time, I wish you wouldn’t force yourself like this next time.” Seoyeon pecks you on the lips. “It’s because you matter the most to me, oppa.” “I know, baby, and you matter the most to me,” you say, “but let’s not do it like this again.”

The two of you didn’t shower after the first sex session a few hours ago, and you think that now is a good time for it. “Let’s get some shower, baby, and then we can get some proper rest.” “I’ll need your help for that, oppa.” You take your turn to peck her on the lips. “Gladly, baby.”

“Hi! Hello!” Dayeon, who happens to be at the lobby, greets you and Seoyeon. She isn’t in the best mood today—you have a few clues as to why—so you’re reluctant to greet Dayeon back with the same energy, because the last thing you want is for Seoyeon to think that you’re too excited to see Dayeon. Seoyeon, however, suddenly picks up her steps, thus leaving you and Dayeon behind.

“Oh.” Dayeon’s smile disappears as she watches her leave. “Is she okay?” You tell her that Seoyeon didn’t have much sleep last night, hence the crankiness, and apologize on her behalf. “I guess I’m not coming to your place tomorrow, then.” You shake your head. “I mean, the idea wasn’t even mine.”

After parting ways with Dayeon, you rush towards the elevator to chase your girlfriend. “There you are.” You approach the grumpy beauty who’s sitting at her desk. “Are you okay, baby? Can I help with anything?” Seoyeon starts crying, taking you by surprise. “I-I’m so tired, oppa, a-and here you are, flirting with another girl.” You want to hug her and assure her that you weren’t even close to flirting with Dayeon, but there’s a CCTV in this area. “Follow me, please,” you tilt your head towards the door to your office, and thankfully, Seoyeon does follow you.

After closing the door behind her, you pull her into a tight hug. “Baby, I wasn’t flirting with her; I was just saying hi because she said hi first.” “I know,” Seoyeon sighs, “I’m sorry, oppa; I don’t know why I’m so sensitive today.” You gently run a hand on the back of her head. “You’re just drained, baby—maybe we shouldn’t push too much to have sex from now on.” Your girlfriend presses her face on your chest. “I just wanted to please you, oppa,” she reasons. “I know, baby, and I thank you for that, but if having sex denies you some much-needed rest, then what’s the point?” Seoyeon pulls away from the hug, wiping her eyes as she does. “I’m going to cry until my eyes are dry if we keep hugging—I’ll start working now.” Before you let her go, you come in for a quick kiss. “I love you, baby.” “I love you too, oppa.”

You go to sit at your desk and see that your computer is already on, and there’s a note stuck on the bezel of your monitor that says, “lunch w/ me @ Tonkatsu Theater.” “Oh, you want to get lunch with me, baby? That’s very cute.”

You arrive at Tonkatsu Theater with Seoyeon at around 1 p.m. “Oh, it’s not that packed,” you comment. “Wouldn’t matter if it did; I’ve booked a table for us.” “You have? When?” “This morning, on our way to the office.”

“A reservation for Yoon Seoyeon, please,” Seoyeon says to one of the staffs, who then asks the two of you to follow him towards the reserved private dining area. “Two tonkatsu, one onion rings, one iced tea with no sugar, and one orange juice, please.” Look, she even orders for you. You wait until the staff leaves before reaching for her hands. “This should’ve been my job, but thank you, baby.” A smile gradually forms on her face, a perfect fit for the rest of her gorgeous features. “Of course, oppa,” she replies, her cheeks pink. “You’re paying for the food, though.” You let out a chuckle that’s louder than intended. “Of course, baby.”

The food arrives at your table not long after you’re seated, which is great; you skipped breakfast this morning because you were running late, so you’re starving right now. Seoyeon slams her hands on the table, a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. “Doesn’t this look amazing?" You nod enthusiastically. “It sure does,” you pick up your utensils, “shall we?”

Seoyeon sinks in her seat after the first bite. “Oh, my—oh my God,” she speaks despite the full mouth, “one bite is all it takes to fall in love.” You see an opportunity to make a joke. “The same way it took you one kiss to fall in love with me?” Seoyeon covers her mouth as she tries her hardest to not laugh and spit everywhere. When the amusement dies down, she kicks you under the table. “Oh my God, stoooop—just eat, oppa, why are you teasing me?” You pinch her round cheeks lightly. “Oh, please, don’t tell me you weren’t amused.”

You summon Dayeon to your office with around an hour left in the workday to talk about some debut-related stuff with her and Seoyeon.

“Hi, hi,” Dayeon enters your office with a smile, and you replicate that smile for her. “So, what’s so important?” “I’ll get straight to the point,” you say, “I’m thinking about debuting all seven of them.” She looks at you with this neutral face that you’re not sure what the meaning is. “Is that so?” You nod. “I’m curious about what you think since you’ve spent some time getting familiar with them.” Dayeon sighs. “Soobin-ie needs some more training.” “I mean, we still have time until January at most,” you reason. “Okay,” she says, “then in that case, I want to be more hands-on with Soobin-ie—don’t worry, I’ll make sure I don’t offend the instructors.“ “Yeah, go ahead,” you show her the green light.

“Is that it, or?” You shake your head. “One more thing, actually,” you change the subject, “you were an idol at some point in your life; how was mental health support when you were active?” You can see joy gradually disappearing from her features. “It didn’t exist,” she sighs, “I had to rely on the older members for that, and it goes without saying that they had their own things to worry about.”

You grab some origami papers of different colors that you’ve cut into credit card-sized rectangles. “Seoyeon-ie suggested that we give out these cards to the girls, and whenever they want to talk, they can just show me or anyone at the company one of these things.” “What are the different colors for?” “I know that green is for when they want to talk about work stuff, but I don’t know about red and orange yet.” Dayeon looks at Seoyeon momentarily before turning her focus back to you. “Orange should be for when they want to talk to a psychologist or the sort, and red is for girls’ stuff.” You ask her to elaborate, so she does. “I don’t know, I was thinking that maybe Seoyeon-ie could be their older sister at work, but I think she already has so much in her hands.”

You ask Seoyeon what she thinks about Dayeon’s idea. “I mean, if you can take off some work load off me, then I’ll gladly take on a closer role with the girls,” Seoyeon says. You rub your chin as you think about it; the things you usually assign to Seoyeon are those that you really need help with, so it’s not like you’re slacking off and delegating things to others just because you can, but at the same time, if she can become that person the girls can rely on, it’d be so helpful for them. “We’ll think about it, okay?”

You’re promptly reminded that debuting all seven trainees would mean that you’ll need to find a new living space to properly accommodate them, which you don’t have references for just yet—three of the seven trainees live with their parents, so at the moment, you only need to house the remaining four.

“Dayeon-ah, find some apartments that can fit seven of them comfortably, please?” “Yeah, sure,” she says, “anything else?” “No, that’s it.” Dayeon nods and writes down her new assignment on her phone. “I’ll get to it; give me a day or two,” she says. “Alright, you may go, then.”

You expect her to just turn around and walk out, but no, she bends over your desk and gives you a peck on the lips. “Uhh,” you’re getting nervous, “thanks, I guess?” “Don’t be mad, Seoyeon-ah,” she says, “see you two around!”

You’re still silent even after Dayeon has left your office. You’re snapped out of your trance when you hear a chuckle from Seoyeon. “What are you so stunned for, oppa—you’ve never gotten a kiss from a girl before?” “I didn’t expect her to be so brazen considering that you’re here.” Your girlfriend places her palms on your cheeks. “Something tells me that I don’t have to worry about her,” she says, rubbing your cheeks softly as she does, “I know who I am in your eyes.” “I love you,” you say, earning a cute smile from Seoyeon. “I love you too, oppa.”

You keep an eye on her as she walks away from your desk and out of your office. This morning, she cried because she thought that you were flirting with Dayeon (even though it was a simple, friendly greeting), and about a workday later, Seoyeon said with confidence that she knew her worth in your eyes.

You shake your head to clear your mind. The workday is done and it’s time to go home with Seoyeon.

At least that was the plan, because when you leave your office, you see Jihyun sitting on the other side of Seoyeon’s desk, seemingly sad about something.

“Are you okay, Miss Seo?” Jihyun bites her lip nervously before answering you. “Erm, i-it’s about Sunbin-ie,” she says vaguely. “What about her?” “S-she sprained her ankle just now, a-and I thought I should tell you and Miss Yoon.” You sigh and rub your forehead at the same time. What’s with Sunbin and hurting her legs, man—first it was her calf, and now it’s her ankle. “Where is she now, Jihyun-ah?” “S-still in the practice room, sir, i-if you’d follow me.”

As you and Seoyeon are following Jihyun to the practice room, you nudge her. “Try holding her hand, babe,” you whisper. Seoyeon does as you ask and takes Jihyun’s hand in hers, and Jihyun is visibly surprised. “You’re alright, Jihyun-ah,” she says, “from now on, I’ll be your older sister that you can rely on." Jihyun isn’t quite sure of what to make of the words, but based on her nods, you guess that she likes the idea.

“Girls, the bosses are here,” Jihyun announces your and Seoyeon’s presence as the three of you enter the practice room. You see the girls standing around a seated person who you assume is Sunbin, circling her and thus blocking your view. One of them suddenly turns around, and— “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” Sunwoo starts singing the song while clapping her hands to the rhythm, followed by the other trainees, and you promptly look at your watch: it is the 6th of November, which is your birthday—if it wasn’t for these girls, you wouldn’t have remembered.

It is when the girls peel away from the circle that you see the white birthday cake (that has some text written in red-colored buttercream on it) in Sunbin’s hands. “Oh my God,” you palm your forehead, “so this was a ploy?” Seoyeon wraps an arm around yours and drags you closer to the cake. “Happy birthday, boss!” You’re highly amused by the surprise. “Thank you, everyone,” you say.

You and Seoyeon sit on the floor with the girls, the cake sitting in the middle like a bonfire. “He doesn’t celebrate his birthday, guys,” Seoyeon says, “it’s only my birthday he celebrates.” Soobin asks why, so you simply say that your family doesn’t really celebrate anyone’s birthday regularly. “Wait,” Soobin says, “did you say he only celebrates your birthday, Miss Yoon?” Seoyeon’s cheeks turn bright red. “Y-yes,” she says, covering her cheeks with her palms, “h-he’s my boyfriend, if you didn’t know already.” Based on the girls’ expressions, you guess that they didn’t know about it.

It is time to address something important: how did they know that it’s your birthday? “Well, I asked Miss Kim—Kim Dayeon, that is,” Sihyeon says, “and now we know everyone’s birthdays.” You shake your head. “So let me ask again, Sunbin-ie didn’t hurt her ankles?” Everyone bursts out laughing. “No, no, no—we just had Jihyun-ie act stressed and sad so that she could get your attention. “Well, dang,” you say, “maybe we should consider giving Jihyun-ie some acting lessons.”

Sunbin pulls out a plastic knife from her back pocket and cuts the cake into 8 parts. “You and Miss Yoon should share, boss,” Sunbin says. Daeun passes a slice over to you along with a spoon. “Choo, choo, baby.” You guide a spoonful of cake towards Seoyeon’s mouth, and with red cheeks, she takes it in her mouth. “Oooooh,” the trainees collectively react, as if sharing the same brain cells. Seoyeon shakes her head as she chews her mouthful. “Alright, alright,” you try saving your girlfriend from further embarrassment, “let’s eat, girls!”

It doesn’t take long for people to finish their slices—Hyeonju even finishes hers in 3 mouthfuls. “Miss Park and Miss Jeon, get some water for us, please.” Soobin and Sunbin do as you ask and grab some bottles of water. “Alright, so,” you start a new topic, “I think this is a good opportunity to talk.” The trainees look at you both in confusion and nervousness. “Oh, don’t worry; it’s nothing to be concerned about—if anything, I think you should be excited about this.”

You briefly explain to the trainees how you’re planning to implement a system where each of them can request an audience with anyone in the company for anything they want to address, from work-related things to personal ones. “A part of the plan is to have Miss Yoon over here to take on a role as your, erm, older sister, I guess.” The seven trainees look at you and Seoyeon in silence, probably processing what this could mean for them. “Look,” you pile on, “I want to provide clear communication channels between us because each of you matters a lot for us.” “And how do you plan on doing that, sir?” “I have some cards of different colors upstairs, and the idea is that different colors represent different purposes; show it to anyone and they’ll take care of you accordingly, from the trainers to the psychiatrist.”

“I like that,” Sunwoo is the first to break the silence, “I think I like that idea, boss.” A smile appears on your face, pushing tenseness away in the process. “Thank you, Miss Jung—anyone else?” Sihyeon asks if seeing the psychiatrist would require them to pay. “No, the company will pay for it, because we’ll be hiring professionals for this.” “Wait, hold on,” Sunwoo speaks again, “please promise us that this system is long-term.” You nod. “As long as me and Miss Yoon are here, it won’t go away.”

“Guys,” Seoyeon takes the baton from you, “please let us know what you think.” Park Soobin, who happens to sit right next to her, hugs her from the side. “Unnie,” she says softly, “I love you, my unnie.” Seoyeon replicates the gesture, beaming as she does. “I love you too, Soobin-ah; talk to me often, ‘kay? I promise I’ll make time for you.”

You step away from the circle to give space, and the girls immediately hug Seoyeon from all directions as a group. You find yourself beaming and your heart is full of warmth because of the sight in front of you. “I’m glad everyone is on board with the idea.” “Can we call you oppa, then?” Jihyun’s question makes you laugh. “I mean, if you’re comfortable with it, then sure.”

The trainees take their previous sitting positions in the circle, thus allowing you to rejoin. “Oh, I just remembered,” you say, “we’re also planning on giving you guys some vacation, since your instructors are going to take some PTO next week.” Some cheer while some others don’t really show excitement. You ask those who aren’t as ecstatic if they’re okay, and they say different reasons as to why they’re not excited: Daeun doesn’t feel like seeing her parents (she doesn’t have the best relationship with them), Hyeonju wants to see her parents but doesn’t have money for transport (that can be fixed easily), and finally, Soobin says she wants to practice more.

“Work will always be there, Soobin-ah,” you say, “don’t you want to take a breather for a moment?” Soobin’s teary gaze strays away from yours. “I think I’m still lacking, sir, and since only 5 of us will debut, I-I need to pick it up.” You notice that Seoyeon is deeply looking at you, and you wonder if this is a good opportunity to reveal the plan of debuting all of them.

A part of you wants to provide comfort for Soobin, but at the same time, it’s too risky to open the card now. “Alright, okay,” you say, “Miss Kim said earlier that she wanted to be more hands-on with your training, so I’m going to entrust you to her.” “Y-yes, sir; I-I will work hard.”

The general mood is declining, and it makes you think that it’s time to wrap it up. “Alright, let’s go home, everyone.” Before leaving with you, Seoyeon makes the time to hug each trainee, offering comfort and kindness to them. “We will see you soon—good evening, everyone.”

As soon as you get in the car with Seoyeon, she confronts you. “Why didn’t you say that all of them will debut?” “I wanted to, but I felt like it was too risky.” She clicks her tongue in disappointment. “They needed comfort, oppa, but you failed to provide them with it—this is their future more than it is ours.” You sigh. “I’m sorry,” you say, “should we tell them now, then?” “No, it’d be embarrassing to go back in there, but you need to tell them soon.”

“I’m going to shower first; feel free to do whatever.” Seoyeon beelines towards the bathroom without bothering to shed some clothes off first. “Sure, baby.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling very uneasy about the attitude that your girlfriend is showing you. At the same time, however, this wouldn’t have happened had you told the trainees that all of them will debut in January. “It’s fine—this is fine,” you say to yourself, “Soobin-ie still needs to practice more anyway.”

While you wait for Seoyeon to finish showering, you get rid of your work clothes in favor of some more comfortable T-shirt and shorts. “Oppa!” You faintly hear her calling to you from the bathroom. “One second!” You jog a little towards her and see that the bathroom door is slightly open. “Yes, baby?” “Can you grab me some pajamas?” “Sure.”

After grabbing a set of pink pajamas from the wardrobe, you make your way back to the bathroom. “Baby, I’m putting it on the mat, okay?” You see the door swinging open, revealing your drenched, naked girlfriend. “Come here,” she says. Your eyes run up and down her body as you think about the situation—oh, wait, she just shaved. “Erm, sure.”

You stay silent as Seoyeon undresses you, cooperating here and there where you see fit. “Oppa,” she snatches your attention, “listen to me, please.” Your gaze moves to meet hers. “First of all, happy birthday,” she begins, “I didn’t forget it, just so we’re clear, but I didn’t have time to get you a present, so I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “Having you by my side is far better than any present.” Seoyeon looks away momentarily to hide her red cheeks.

“Anyway,” she clears her throat before continuing, “I want to apologize, oppa; I, erm, wasn’t so kind with you this past hour.” You shake your head again. “I understand where you were coming from—actually, I was about to ask you if I should come to their practice tomorrow and announce the plan.” “We can if you want to,” she says, and you simply nod in response.

“Hey, so, erm” you change the subject, “why am I here?” Seoyeon chuckles. “Well, I wanted to suck you—y’know, to celebrate your birthday and all that.” Your lips are shut, but your cock does the talking, getting hard at the prospect of getting a blowjob. “Take a seat somewhere, oppa.” You look for spots in the bathroom and decide that you’ll take the toilet. “I’m ready when you are, baby.”

The way Seoyeon’s hips sway as she’s making her way towards you combined with the sight of her shaved crotch makes you drool. The sight is replaced when she kneels between your legs, her eyes locked on your erect shaft. “Happy birthday, oppa.” “Thank you, love,” you place a hand on the side of her face, “thank you for being here.” Seoyeon, not in the correct position to peck you on the lips, gives you a peck on the tip of your cock.

You gasp when the first few centimeters of your cock enters her mouth. Seoyeon wastes little time and immediately begins bobbing her head along your shaft. “Oh my God, baby,” you say breathily, “you’re always so damn good at this.” Enthused by your praise, Seoyeon plants her hands on your thighs so that she can be stable while sucking your cock fast and deep. Her wet hair sticks on different parts of her face, and you take it as your job to tidy it up as much as you can.

“Oh, God, I won’t last if you do it like that,” you comment when you feel her tongue running on the underside of your shaft. Your cock leaves her lips with a pop. “No, no, no, you can only bust here,” she points at her crotch, “I didn’t shave just for you to cum in my mouth.” You wipe some drool off the edges of your lips. “Okay,” you say, “are we doing it here, then?” Seoyeon looks around the bathroom. “Yeah, let’s do it here; it’s easier for us to clean up after.” “I’m ready when you are, baby.”

You expect Seoyeon to impale herself on your cock, but she doesn’t—she just stands in front of you with her hands on your shoulders. “Are you okay, baby?” She sighs. “I, erm, don’t feel the usual emotions.” You show her a gentle smile. “Is that so, my love?” The endearment makes her blush a little. “If you keep calling me that, though...”

You lift your butt off the toilet, thus towering over her like you usually do. “Love, listen, please,” you rub her cheek gently, “I love you so, so, so much, and I’m thankful for you.” Seoyeon’s big eyes are locked on yours, and her lips are shut tight, waiting for you to pile on. “That said, my love, I apologize for all my shortcomings; I promise I will work on becoming the best person you want to spend your life with.”

“You know I hate empty promises, right, oppa?” You nod. “I do, and I hate them as much as you do, love.” “So, how are you going to show your commitment to fulfill that promise, oppa?” Her question stumps you; how are you going to show your commitment is indeed a very good and valid question. “I-I don’t know.” This cluelessness makes you want to cry—you really want to give her a good answer, but no matter how hard you’re cranking the gears in your head, you just can’t come up with one. “I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what to say.”

Seoyeon takes her turn to rub your cheek with her gentle hand. “You don’t have to answer with your words, oppa—actions speak louder anyway.” The embarrassment in your head leads to you dropping your chin, but Seoyeon lifts it up again, thus making you look at her again. “Hey, now,” her voice is very soft, “get yourself together, oppa; I still love you, y’know.” You take a deep breath. “Sorry, love—you brought me here to have sex, and what you’re getting is a mess.” “Let me fix that mess, oppa.”

Seoyeon gets on her tippy toes and places her lips on yours, and with every second passing, you can feel that things are getting clearer for you to see; Seoyeon is here to stay and watch you grow as a man in this relationship with her unwavering patience and warm love. “I love you, oppa,” her soft voice warms your heart, “and trust me when I say that it’s not an empty sentence.” You smile. “I love you more, love—I haven’t the slightest of doubt in my head about us.” Seoyeon smiles sweetly. “I think we’re ready to have sex now.” “We are,” you agree with her, “but I don’t want to do it here.”

You step away from your girlfriend to grab a towel and use it to wipe water off her body. “Sex in the bathroom doesn’t feel appropriate for us right now, don’t you think?” Seoyeon hums in agreement. Once she’s dry enough to not wet the bed, you lift her by her thighs and carry her to the bedroom, exchanging pecks on the way there.

“I take it we’ll be doing vanilla?” “I mean, we have some chocolate in the fridge if you want to spice it up.” Seoyeon laughs. “No, no, no—we didn’t build up all those emotions just to be, uh, naughty.” You take a seat on the edge of the bed with her still on your lap. “Maybe next time, then?” She sticks her tongue out slightly, seemingly full of ideas for “next time.” “We can go crazy next time, oppa, but let’s worry about that next time.”

You fall backwards onto the bed, thus making Seoyeon take the top position. “Oh, I get to be on top?” You chuckle. “As if you’ve never been on top before.” You gasp when you feel her grabbing your cock and stroking it. “You know I like being on the bottom more, but I don’t mind riding this big dick of yours every now and then.”

You’re about to say something but got cut off when Seoyeon lets you in her tight and wet pussy. “Oh, yes, daddy,” she lets out a long moan at the first contact. “Vanilla, baby, remember?” She laughs a little. “Ah, of course—sorry, force of habit.”

She lies on your body, putting those soft tits of hers right on your chest. “Will you marry me one day, baby?” She gives you a peck on the lips. “I will marry you in this life, the next, and the one after.” “You think we’ll meet again in the next life?” She gives you another peck. “We belong to each other, oppa, and we’ll always find our way back, no matter the distance.”

You think that you’ve had enough conversation, so you push yourself upwards into her warm pussy to signal that you’re ready (if not eager) to begin, thus earning a soft moan from her. “You’re perfect for me, oppa, and I’m perfect for you—that Kim Dayeon girl can’t compete with me.” You pinch her cheek lightly. “Let’s not mention another name when we’re in bed like this, baby.” “S-sure.”

You let out a big exhale when Seoyeon does a full up-and-down move along your cock, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. “Y-you’re doing that thing again, oppa,” she quips, “y-your eyes are rolling to the back of your head.” You let your eyelids close as they wish. “You’re amazing, that’s why.” You get a peck on the cheek from her. “I’m only like this for you, oppa; you make me want to give you the best all the time.” You don’t know how she’s able to speak these many words with your cock lodged deep in her pussy. “Uh-huh.”

Seoyeon wraps her arms tightly around your nape and begins moving her hips along your cock, moaning so damn freely as she does. “Oh, God, if only I could say how much I love you, oppa.” You shake your head. “Actions speak louder, remember?” “Y-yes, I remember, b-but still.”

You collect yourself and lift your body off the bed, and Seoyeon, as if able to read your mind, kisses you without being asked to. “I love you, baby—I love you so much, and I’ll make you mine forever one day.” “Let’s not worry about the future right now, oppa,” her whispered words hit you hard, “let’s think about the here and now.” You chuckle a little. “Sure, baby.”

You move closer towards the center of the bed and take the top position this time. “I want to mark you, baby.” Seoyeon tilts her head to expose your target. “Have at it, oppa.” Your lips promptly latch on the side of her neck, and once she starts moaning because of it, you start moving your hips back and forth to maximize stimulation. “Oh, yes, that’s it, oppa,” she expresses her approval of your actions, “keep going just like that, oppa.”

This relaxed pace works well for you; you don’t have to worry about busting early because of her tight grip and instead are able to really enjoy the sensations. That said, Seoyeon, as per usual, likely needs something more—

“Oppa, I-I’m getting close.”

Well, isn’t that great to hear; you were just about to ask her if she wanted something more to send her across the finish line, but she just announces that she’s about to cross that line.

“We’ll cum together, baby, ‘kay?” Seoyeon nods in response as her eyes are shut tight, unlike her lips where moans are escaping from, and the sight makes you smile. “You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you, baby?” “A s-sweet girl like me d-deserves a good guy.” You give her some fleeting kisses. “Am I not a good guy, baby?” Her lips form a small but precious smile. “Y-you’re the best, oppa.”

Your heart starts racing as orgasm makes its way closer to you. “B-baby,” your voice is heavy and breathy, “I-I’m about to—” “Yes, yes, give it all to me, oppa.” You tighten the embrace and pick up the pace of your hips a bit, chasing your orgasm with utmost eagerness. “Yes, just like that, oppa—oh, fuck, yes.” Seoyeon’s approval serves as fuel for your nearly exhausted body to keep pushing during this final short stretch.

With a deep grunt, you release a big, warm load into your girlfriend, thus earning a long moan from her. “I—oh, God,” you’re breathless, “I-I love you so much, baby.” Seoyeon’s body begins to tremble in your arms, a sign that confirms your success at the task. “H-hold me! Hold me, oppa!” You make sure your arms stay strong to hold her close, fighting off as much of the exhaustion as you can. “You’re fine, baby; I’m here for you—I’m always here for you, baby.”

It is only when Seoyeon calms down that you let go of the hug and move to lie next to her. “G-get me a pill, oppa.” You gather your strength and roll over to reach the bedside table to get the pill. You hand it over to your girlfriend along with a bottle that’s barely a quarter full. “O-one day, we won’t bother with this thing,” she says, “I-I swear to God, I’ll give you a child, oppa.” You pet her head softly. “One day, sweetie, okay?”

You and Seoyeon arrive at your company’s building in a fine and chill Saturday morning.

The two of you head straight to the practice room where you assume the trainees are, and true enough, everyone but Jihyun is present. “Where is Jihyun-ie?” “She went out to run earlier, but she should be here soon.” It’s an odd time to start getting nervous, and you try your hardest to shake it off. “Yeah, okay,” you take a seat on a nearby chair, “we’ll wait for her a bit.”

The 19-year-old trio of Hyeonju, Daeun, and Soobin are lying on the floor, train hugging from one end to the other. “Yah, Shin Daeun, stop moving, will you?” “Then hug me more tightly, dummy.” Hyeonju and Daeun have been close since middle school, which explains their best friend-like dynamics. “I don’t know how Jinhwan-ie can cuddle you through the night.”

Daeun glances at you nervously. “D-don’t say that out loud, Hyeonju-yah—the boss is right there.” You don’t recall including a “no dating” term in anyone’s contract. “Dating is completely fine, girls,” you interject. Daeun reaches behind and slaps Hyeonju on the thigh. “I hate you sometimes, Kim Hyeonju.”

Jihyun enters the room after a short while, panting heavily as she does. “Ah, hi,” she waves at you and Seoyeon, “good morning.” “Good morning to you too, sweetie,” Seoyeon replies, “how far did you run?” Jihyun looks at her smartwatch. “Uh, about 3 kilometers.” “Pace?” “Just around 7 minutes per kilometer.” Seoyeon claps her hands in praise. “Great job, Jihyun-ah.” “I would love to hug you, unnie, but I’m so sweaty.” Seoyeon takes off her cardigan and moves to hug Jihyun. “It’s fine, Jihyun-ah.” “You’re the best, unnie.”

“Alright, now that everyone is here,” you stand up from your chair, “I would like to announce some things, so gather around, please.” The trainees take their spots near you, and you feel as if you were a kindergarten teacher right now. “Let’s start with the big one,” you take a deep breath first, “all seven of you are debuting.” Your announcement is met with confused blinks. “Can someone say something, please?” “All of us are debuting, oppa?” Sunbin finally breaks the silence, and you nod in response, letting out a deep exhale in the process. “You heard me right.”

The trainees look at each other, seemingly excited at the prospect of debuting together. Jihyun suddenly stands up in front of the crowd. “That means no one is getting dropped, right?” She looks at you momentarily and looks at her fellow trainees. “C’mon, girls,” she tries firing up her colleagues, “the boss just confirmed that all of us are debuting, so let’s give this our all—we don’t want to disappoint oppa and unnie, do we?”

Sihyeon gets on her feet and walks towards you. “Oppa,” she says softly, “you’re not riling us up for nothing, are you?” You shake your head adamantly to show seriousness. “What would I gain from lying to you, Sihyeon-ah?” You’re taken aback when she suddenly hugs you. “I-I will work hard, oppa—you won’t regret this, I swear!” You pet her back gently. “I know, Miss Kang,” you say, “give this last part of training period your all, okay, and I promise we’ll do our part in return.”

Sihyeon lets go of the hug and changes her target to Seoyeon and in her arms Sihyeon’s wall crumbles, showing everyone present the vulnerability of her gentle heart. “I won’t let you down, unnie—I swear on everything I won’t let you down.” Seoyeon closes her eyes as she tries her hardest to stay solid for Sihyeon. “I know, I know,” she pets her back gently the same way you did, “and I’m certain you will make it to the big stage.”

You fish out a small handkerchief from your back pocket and hand it to Seoyeon, who then uses it to wipe Sihyeon’s tears. “Hey, hey, listen to me,” Seoyeon says, “we’ll be with you every step of the way, Sihyeon-ah, and whenever you’re worried about something, remember that you’re never alone.” Unable to answer, the crying girl resorts to nodding, and Seoyeon gives her one last pet on the back before letting go.

“Girls,” Seoyeon takes command despite her glassy eyes, “we believe in you, the same way you believed in us when we first took you in as trainees, so please, let’s work hard together and make this dream come true—am I understood?” “Yes, unnie!”

It is when you and Seoyeon reach the privacy of your office that she starts breaking down, no longer able to keep herself together. “I love them, oppa,” she begins, “I-I love them like an older sister.” You pull her into a hug and place a hand on the back of her head. “I know, sweetie, and I’m so glad that they have someone like you by their side.” Her wails become louder as her hands hang on to your hoodie tightly to keep you as close as possible. “I-I want a raise, oppa.” You burst out laughing. “Of course, sweetie; I’ll give you a raise soon, okay?”

You stay with Seoyeon until her benevolent heart calms down and her beautiful eyes stop letting out tears. “You’re such a kind person, aren’t you, love?” She lets out a whimper into your chest. “People love you for your kindness, love—you know that, right?” “Yes,” her voice is muffled by your body. You peck her on the top of her head once. “I will never let you go, love; my world would lose its light if you were to leave me.” “I-I won’t—" A sniffle interrupts her. “I won’t leave you forever, oppa.”

You walk backwards and drag her along towards your seat. “Let’s have a seat for a moment, ‘kay?” Your girlfriend nods into your chest, still not willing to look at you in the eyes. “You’re safe here, love; you’re safe with me.”

Seoyeon suddenly lifts her chin and meets your gaze with eyes that are red from the wave of tears. “I love you, oppa.” “Oh, baby,” you chuckle a little, “I love you so, so, so much, too.” “How much?” “I know you don’t like it when I say that I’d die for you, so instead, I’ll say that I love you so much that I want to be healthy all the time so that I can always be with you.” She beams in satisfaction. “Great answer, oppa.”

The bell to your office rings, and you expect Seoyeon to jump off your lap, but no, she still stays seated on you. “You can answer it, oppa.”

You press a button on your desk to unlock the door, and it swings open soon after, thus revealing Dayeon who is dressed in a dance practice attire. “Oh, am I interrupting?” You shake your head. “Can I help you?” “The girls told me about your plan to debut all of them.” “Are you here to share your opinion, then?” “Yes, kind of,” she says, “I think it was wise to tell them now; I can feel the hopefulness in the air.” “My sweet Seoyeon-ie here deserves the credit; it was her idea to announce the plan to the trainees.” Dayeon nods before closing the door and disappearing behind it.

“Oppa,” Seoyeon taps your nape to get your attention, “can we go home now? Let’s leave the trainees with Dayeon-ie.” “Don’t you want to get breakfast before we head home?” She nods against your left cheek. “I want some bubble waffles, oppa.”

While you wait for the bubble waffles to be made, Seoyeon is at the nearby convenience store to get some stuff.

“Would you like to add anything to the other waffle?” “Can I have some peanut butter on the side, please?” The staff nods and fills two small cups with peanut butter, as you’ve requested.

As timing would have it, Seoyeon is walking out of the convenience store right as you’re making your way towards it. “Bag secured, baby,” you show her the plastic bag, “we can go home now.” “Of course you got peanut butter,” she comments. “You know me.”

Seoyeon wraps an arm around yours as the two of you walk towards your car. “Do you want to eat in the car, or?” “No, let’s eat at home.”

You sit on the sofa with Seoyeon as soon as you enter your apartment. “Here’s yours, baby,” you hand over the cookie-and-cream waffle. “Oppa, don’t eat all your peanut butter; I want some too later.” You guess that she wants to balance the sweetness of her waffle with some peanut butter, so you make sure you don’t use all of it for yourself.

Your girlfriend only eats about half of her waffle before putting it down on the table. “Bedroom,” she says suddenly, “right meow.” “O…kay?” She urges you to go first and says that she’ll join you after drinking some water. “I’ll be waiting for you, baby.”

You promptly begin scratching your head as soon as you climb onto the bed, confused as to why Seoyeon suddenly wants to go the bedroom so early in the day. “She probably wants to cuddle,” you guess.

“Oh, hi, mister,” she walks into the bedroom with urgency, “you know what I want, don’t you?” “Erm, cuddle?” “Cuddle, he says—God, he’s so clueless sometimes,” she thinks, finding your cluelessness both funny and (mildly) annoying. “Yeah, I do want a cuddle.”

You lie flat in the center of the bed and spread your limbs apart, inviting Seoyeon to take her rightful spot, and once she lies on top of your body, you use your limbs to secure her in place. “Like this, my love?” She wiggles a bit to get you to loosen up a little. “It’s perfect now.”

“Hey, so, uh, why are we here?” Seoyeon grunts. “What, you don’t like cuddling anymore?” “C’mon, baby; I didn’t say that, did I? I’m just curious, y’know.” You’re confused when she begins grinding her crotch against yours. “It was supposed to be a segue to sex, but now that you’re asking, we might as well start now.” “Baby, it’s not even 10 yet.” Seoyeon breaks free from your limbs and moves to sit on your stomach. “Surely you’re not denying me sexual pleasures, are you?” You sigh deeply. “No, I’m not; I would never.”

Seoyeon rewards your correct answer with a steamy kiss that helps you get hard. Unfortunately, though, it’s getting a bit painful since these boxers and joggers aren’t the stretchiest. “Babe,” you call to her, “take off my pants, please.” “Of course, daddy.”

She grabs the waistband of your joggers and hooks her fingers to the inside so that she can pull down your boxers at the same time. “My, my, you’re excited to see me, aren’t you?” You nod as she begins stroking your cock. “You know I’m always excited for you.”

To your absolute surprise, Seoyeon pulls out the cup of peanut butter from her shorts pocket. “Remember this, daddy?” You keep your eyes on her as she coats the tip of your cock with peanut butter and spreads it along your length. “Look at this, daddy,” she keeps stroking your shaft to make sure it’s evenly coated, “this is going to taste so good.”

You let out a big exhale when Seoyeon takes your peanut butter-coated cock in her mouth, and she exclaims at the taste. You jolt a little when you feel her tongue running wild on the underside of your cock. “Oh, God, I won’t last if you do it like that, baby.”

After a few minutes of bobbing her head on your cock, Seoyeon taps your thigh to get your attention. “Wook aw we,” she mumbles. Once you look at her, she starts going down on your cock even further until its entirety disappears in her mouth. “Oh, you’re fucking crazy,” you’re breathless at this point, “fuck, your throat is going to get stretched, baby.”

Seoyeon comes up air after having had her airway blocked by your cock. “That was so good, daddy; the peanut butter added some extra flavors.” You nod weakly. “I-I’m glad, baby.” She climbs onto the bed and lies down next to you. “Your turn, daddy,” she pulls out another cup of peanut butter—the one that you ate out of less than an hour ago—and places it on your chest. “Gladly.”

With half a cup of peanut butter in hand, you pull Seoyeon by her legs towards you until her legs hang past the edge of the bed. “You know where this is going, don’t you?” Seoyeon nods. “Tell me, then, baby.” “Y-you will smear peanut butter over my pink pussy and eat me out until I squirt all over your face.” She rarely talks about herself in such a manner, and hearing it arouses you even more. “That’s correct, baby.”

You get on your knees, and Seoyeon’s shiny pussy is right in front of your eyes. She jolts when you place a finger on her nub. “Aww, sensitive much?” She nods. “P-please, daddy, make me feel good.”

You use your index and middle fingers to pick up some peanut butter and spread it crassly on Seoyeon’s pussy, and she keeps moaning as you do it. “Oh, this is going to taste so good,” you use her line against her. “D-don’t say it like—oh, God, daddy.” Seoyeon immediately clamps your head with her thick thighs, and you swear that they cancel noises better than any fancy Sony headphones in your collection.

You continue administering stimulation on her pussy, earning endless sensual moans from your girlfriend, and at this moment, you’re glad your parents have inherited their love for peanut butter onto you. “D-daddy,” her voice is barely heard, “d-daddy, I’m about to cum.”

You pick up the intensity of the cunnilingus as you’re highly enthused to make her finish; your tongue runs all over her pussy while occasionally sucking and nibbling her nub. Seoyeon places a hand on the back of your head while using the other hand to play with her plump tits for extra stimulation.

You’re surprised when Seoyeon’s juice suddenly hits you in the face, but you manage to open your mouth just in time to catch some of them. Unable to speak, you tap her thigh to get her attention. “W-what?” You swallow her juice that’s pooled in your mouth in one go, and Seoyeon lets out a chuckle. “You’re insane, daddy.”

You use some wet wipes to clean yourself and your girlfriend. “T-thank you, daddy.” You peck her on the forehead. “No, baby, thank you—I hope this is enough for now, though.” She nods. “It should be.”

Seoyeon climbs onto your body when you lie on the bed. “D-daddy,” she moves on to a different subject, “do you—erm, do you like my body?” You’re both startled and confused. “What is that question, babe?” “I mean, I-I’m not as fit as Dayeon-ie—I think her tits are also bigger than mine.” Your jaw drops due to the absurdity. “When have I compared you to her, hm?” “J-just answer the question, daddy.”

You take a deep breath as you formulate an answer for your girlfriend. “First of all, I love your physique because you’re thick on the right spots. Number two, you’re very tight, both the front and the back.” “Really?” You scoff. “Do you not remember how I busted early when we first did anal?” Seoyeon giggles. “That virgin ass was too much for your mighty cock, wasn’t it, daddy?” “Oh, for sure.”

Based on her smile, you estimate that she’s satisfied with your answer. “Baby, look,” you say, “you know I’m not a fan of talking about a girl’s body like that, but I hope you understand what I was trying to say.” She nods. “I-I just needed some boost to my confidence, daddy, and you delivered just that.” You give her a peck on the lips. “I’m glad I could help.”

Seoyeon straightens her posture. “Can I have this, daddy?” She asks as she starts stroking your cock again. “Are you desperate for it?” “Oh, c’mon, you know I can’t have enough of you, and I know you can’t have enough of me.” You chuckle. “That’s one way to put it.”

Your girlfriend lifts her butt of your lap and— “Oh, fuck, you’re in my ass, daddy.” “Yeah?” You can only say one word as you fight her constraining asshole. “You’re so big in my ass, daddy—fuck, you’re stretching me like crazy.” You reach around to spank her. “Ride my cock, baby.” “Y-yes, sir.”

Seoyeon plants her hands on your chest and begins moving up and down at a relaxed pace on your cock, savoring the sensation of getting stretched that is almost too much for her. “N-no one can do it like I can, right, daddy?” You’re about to open your mouth when she piles on another question. “No one can take you in the ass as well as I can, right, daddy?” “Yes, and yes,” you say, “no one can do it like you can, and no one else deserves me like you do.”

Seoyeon rewards your correct answers (again) by picking up the pace of her bounces, and you can’t help but let go of the controls of the session. “Just like that, baby—exactly like that,” you make sure the praises are flowing without hindrance. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” curses are flowing out of Seoyeon’s lips without hindrance—quite the contrast with you, but it’s no secret that opposites attract like crazy.

“D-daddy,” she’s showing signs of exhaustion, “t-take over, please—take over and fuck me like you always do.” You pull her into an embrace and roll over so that you’re on top. “Are you going to tap out like last time?” “Hold me down and force me to take it, daddy—I’m your slut.” That’s quite the nasty term, but at this moment, it only adds to your arousal. Your giggle sounds like a movie villain’s. “Alright, bet.”

You hold her legs and fold them over her body. “You’re going to take it like a good slut, aren’t you?” Seoyeon nods. “F-fuck—OH, FUCK ME, DADDY!” The bedroom is getting filled with screams and moans from your girlfriend and heavy grunts from you as you pound her ass without mercy.

Seoyeon’s eyes start rolling backwards as time goes, completely in submission to your cock. A particular thrust messes up your hair, thus disrupting your vision of your girlfriend. You stop momentarily to tidy up, and while you’re at it, you take a moment to check up on her. “You okay, baby?” She nods weakly. “M-my ass is going to be so sore,” she says weakly.

With your hair tidied up, you start moving again at a pace that’s similar prior to the pause. “Ngh, ngh, ngh.” Only these sounds come out of Seoyeon’s mouth as you fuck her ass restlessly to chase an orgasm. In her head, she’s praying that it’s good enough for you, considering that she can’t help but be passive in this position. “Daddy is using me,” these words keep going around in her head endlessly, but she must admit, anal sex offers much more sensation; the pain, the tightness, and the stretch are different than vaginal sex.

With a grunt, you lodge your cock as deep as you can into her ass and blow a massive load right into her. “B-baby,” you’re breathless again, “I love you so, so, so much.” “Have mercy,” she weakly replies. When you retreat from her ass, it leaks out some excess cum onto the bed, but that’s fine, you can just swap the sheets. “Are you okay, baby—are you hurt?” Seoyeon shakes her head. “I-I need some water, though.”

You’re sitting at the desk in your bedroom while Seoyeon (who is still naked) is lying in bed and is on her phone, scrolling through social media.

“Babe,” you call to her, “Jihyun-ie is video-calling me.” “Why?” “I don’t know,” you’re as clueless as she is. Seoyeon sits on your lap and tilts the webcam upwards so that it doesn’t pick up her nude form. “Accept it, oppa; I want to hear what she has to say.”

“Oh my God, you’re both here!” You see that it’s actually Hyeonju and Sunwoo, the latter holding a guitar. “Oh, you two are really dating, huh?” You chuckle. “What would I gain from lying to you, Miss Kim?”

“Wait, Seoyeon-unnie,” Sunwoo says, “you’re not naked, are you—I can see your bare shoulder, you know.” Seoyeon looks away momentarily before winking at Sunwoo, and she’s met with exclaims of disbelief from the two girls. “I really shouldn’t have asked that, huh?” “No, but it’s okay; me and oppa are consenting adults.”

“So, to what do we owe this call, girls?” Hyeonju fights the heat in her cheeks and says that her and Sunwoo would like to give you a present in the form of some song covers. “We practiced this afternoon, oppa,” she adds. You look at Seoyeon through the screen and see that she’s excited to hear them sing. “Sounds great—we’re ready when you are.”

Sunwoo starts playing the guitar to signal to Hyeonju that she’s ready, and Hyeonju starts bopping her head as she gets ready to sing. “Feel free to sing along, boss,” she says right before it’s time to sing.

私は私貴方は貴方と (I am only me, you are only you)

昨夜言ってたそんな気もするわ (I said that last night and still feel the same way)

グレイのジャケットに (You in your gray jacket)

見覚えがあるコーヒーのしみ (With that familiar coffee stain)

相変らずなのね (Just as you always are)

ショーウィンドウに二人映れば (Our reflection in the display window)

You know this song so well; at some point in your university life, you and your friends were obsessed with this song and listened to it so frequently, but Seoyeon doesn’t know what song this is. “I’ll tell you more about it later,” you whisper to her as you get ready to sing along.

Stay with me~

真夜中のドアをたたき (Knocking on Midnight’s door)

帰らないでと泣いた (Begging you to not go home)

あの季節が今目の前 (That season when I cried right in front of your eyes)

Stay with me~

口ぐせを言いながら (Saying our favorite words)

二人の瞬間を抱いて (Holding on to our little moment)

まだ忘れず大事にしていた (I’ll never forget it as long as I live)

You clap your hands loudly in praise and awe when Hyeonju stops singing. “Oh my God, Kim Hyeonju,” you say, your tone high in excitement, “you absolutely killed that cover—goodness me!” “You know that song, boss?” You roll your eyes playfully. “That should be my question—how do you know that song that’s older than your parents, hm?” Hyeonju laughs. “I stumbled upon it when I was scrolling the internet,” she gives a very typical today’s kid’s answer. “I was obsessed with that song when I was in university, you know.”

Seoyeon taps your forearm. “What song was that, oppa?” “Girls, your Seoyeon-unnie doesn’t know what song it was,” you tease her, “the song is called Mayonaka no Door, sweetie, sung by the legendary Miki Matsubara and was released in 1979.” Her jaw drops. “Oh my God, that’s a long time ago.” You nod. “That’s why I wondered how Hyeonju and Sunwoo knew about this song.”

Hyeonju asks for your attention, citing that she and Sunwoo are ready to present the second song cover for you and Seoyeon. “Ah, I know this one,” Seoyeon comments when Sunwoo starts playing her guitar.

네가 날 싫어해하는 걸 알아 (I know that you hate me)

나는 서운해 (I’m sad)

그런 날 왜 너는 못 이해해 (Why can’t you understand me?)

You don’t understand, 난 너를 좋아한다고 (You don’t understand, I like you)

You have a big grin on your face, expecting Sunwoo and Hyeonju to share the lines like the original artists, and true enough, they are.

내가 뭘 잘못했는데 (What did I do wrong?)

내게 왜 그러는데 (Why are you doing this to me)

그럴수록 난 되게 섭섭해 (The more you do that, the sadder I get) Oh I’m so sad

그러니까 슬슬 (So let me slowly) come into your heart

마음 중요한 건 마음 (The important thing is the heart)

결코 네 얼굴만 보고 좋아하는 거 — 아니 아니야 (I’m not liking you just for your face—no, no)

날 미워하는 너의 날이 선 말투까지도 (Even your sharp words that hate on me)

사랑하게 된 거 이게 내 맘이야 (I came to love them, this is my heart)

Just like before, you clap your hands loudly in praise. “Great job, girls,” you add, “wow, you’re great at this.” “We told you we wouldn’t let you down, didn’t we, boss?” You can hear the pride in Sunwoo’s voice. “Oh, that you did, Sunwoo-yah, and trust me when I say that I’m anything but disappointed right now.”

You’re interrupted when Seoyeon suddenly kisses you in front of the girls, and you can hear their loud, surprised exclaim through the video call—this is the first time she has committed a public display of affection with you. “Oh my God, you two are so in love,” Sunwoo comments. “You have no idea,” Seoyeon says after breaking the kiss, “oppa is such an amazing boyfriend for me.” “Promise us you’ll invite us to your wedding, unnie,” Sunwoo adds, thus making Seoyeon laugh. She leans closer towards the camera, presumably to whisper something into the microphone. “Hey, uh, don’t tell anyone yet, but the wedding is closer than you think.” You’re met with another loud scream from the other side of the screen.

You tap her back to get her attention. “You think so, baby?” You speak quietly so that the microphone doesn’t pick up your voice. “Oh, I know so,” she says, “I’m going to make you mine, oppa.” Another grin decorates your face.

“And you’re going to be mine forever, baby girl.”

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut #triples smut

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stargirllanaa · 1 day ago

Text

Death Grips. II - R.C

Dark!Frat!Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Warnings: Dv( physical abuse),NONCON, Mentions of Dv, Cheating, mentions of cheating, abusive relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, frat!rafe, blackmail, emotional abuse, underage drinking, he’s an asshole guys

Summary: inspired by ‘death grips’ by Etta Marcus/ After a messy break up with Rafe Cameron your freshman year of college, he can’t seem to leave you alone. Whether you’re awake or asleep

Series masterlist

A/n: hey guys, I’m currently out of the country so this took me a little longer than I wanted it to but hope u enjoy and pls leave feedback and lmk how u like it!

Part: II

………

As you stormed to your dorm, the only thoughts in your head were, What was the point of all of this? And Why was he doing all of this? He had already taken so much from you; why wasn't it enough? You thought you had been going crazy. First, it was the kiss at the party; now, this. I mean, did he still want power over you that bad?

~~~~

The sound of Rafe's engine created a soft hum behind the blaring sound of his music as he used one hand to steer through the night and the other to turn the volume up slightly before resting it comfortably on your thigh. Raindrops smacked hard against The windshield to be quickly whipped away the second they did.

You hadn't felt like yourself in a while. I mean, of course, you felt like yourself, but you felt like a shell, a casing of what you used to be. Your friends had noticed it too, and the abuse you had been enduring daily was getting harder to hide, not just the bruises but your overall mood; whenever you were happy, it didn't seem as big.

Whenever you were sad, it seemed like the end of the world. You constantly felt anxious, wondering if you would say the wrong thing to Rafe; honestly, it made you want to stay completely silent around him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing. It wasn't that important; it was just one of your classmates texting you about a project the two of you were working on together. What you hadn't noticed was Rafe peaking at your phone, too.

"Who's that?" Rafe questioned almost instantly, moving his eyes back and forth between you and the road.

"It's just Cam from my research class," you replied nonchalantly, scrunching your eyebrows as you tried to focus on reading the text.

"Didn't I tell you to block him?" Your boyfriend reminded you more than he asked, and his tone hit a dangerous edge.

"Yeah, but—"you try to backtrack and defend yourself before being cut off by the sound of your boyfriend hitting the steering wheel hard, making you flinch, almost as if he was trying to warn you to shut up.

"There is no, but if I tell you to do something... " he took a long breath, shaking his head. You should respect me enough to do it." When you didn't respond, Rafe took that as a sign to do something to make you respond.

This happened very often. When it came to Rafe, you would tend to shut down, too scared to say the wrong thing.

As you stared out the window, not wanting to argue anymore, arms crossed over your chest, you noticed that the nearby scenery started to drift by faster than it should. Rafe's engine grew louder as his truck moved quicker, and when you looked at him, it all clicked. His knuckles were nearly white from gripping the steering wheel so tight, his eyes shifting back and forth from the road, and you in his face hard as a rock.

"R-Rafe?" You stuttered as the speed of his truck continued to grow, the speedometer moving further and further to the right. But he didn't say anything, and now he wasn't even looking at you, his eyes glued to the road as he continued to push the gas.

"Slow down." Your voice shakes as you try to speak calmly through your growing anxiety, your head whipping back and forth between the road and him. When he still didn't respond, you started to lose it.

"RAFE, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!" You were now screaming through tears; this wasn't fucking funny at all. He was playing with your life, and if this wasn't a joke and he was seriously going to crash the car and kill you both over a text message, it made you feel even more stupid. Rafe had done more than enough for you to leave him, yet you were stupid because you still loved him and couldn't imagine yourself without him.

Instead of slowing down as you asked, Rafe hit the brakes forcefully, causing you to fly forward in your seat and slam your head hard against the dashboard.

"Fuck.." you mumbled under your breath, holding your now-pounding forehead.

Relief washed over you as you looked out the window to see your boyfriend had stopped the truck entirely, but that relief was short-lived when you turned to look at him and were met with cold, calculated blue eyes.

"Get out of my car." Rafe leaned closer, his voice low and dripping with a sinister calm. "I'm not playing around. Get out." The way he said it, flat and final, sent a chill down your spine.

You hesitated, trying to search his expression for any hint of remorse or softness, anything that could explain why he was acting this way. But his face was stone, unfeeling and unmoved by the terror and confusion that must have been clear in your eyes.

"Get out of my car," he repeated, his tone colder, firmer. But you just sat there, clutching your bag and staring at the windshield, hoping that if you didn't move, he'd realize how irrational he was being and calm down.

"Rafe, please… it's pouring out, and it's late. Just take me back to campus, and we can talk about this later," you pleaded, your voice shaking but determined not to show how scared you really felt.

But instead of softening, Rafe's expression hardened, and he leaned over, his hand reaching across to unlatch your seatbelt with a rough pull. "I told you to get out, and I'm not repeating myself again."

You flinched, holding onto the edge of the seat as if it would anchor you there. "No, You're not leaving me out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm not getting out," you replied, your voice firm despite the tremor behind it.

Without another word, Rafe climbed out of the driver's side and rounded the car to your door. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof intensified as he pulled your door open. In one swift motion, he reached in, grabbing your arm tightly, making you wince in pain. You tried to pull back, but his grip was too firm.

"Rafe, stop! Please!" you cried, your voice desperate as you clutched at the car door, digging your fingers into the edges, trying to hold on.

Ignoring your pleas, Rafe yanked harder, digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you from the seat until your feet hit the wet pavement. You stumbled, nearly slipping as he let go, and you could only stand there, drenched and shivering, watching him with wide eyes.

"Maybe you should ask Cam to come pick you up." he sneered before slamming the door shut and stepping hard on the gas. The tires spun momentarily, spraying water in your direction as he sped off into the night, leaving you alone on the empty road.

The silence that followed was thick and pressing; the only sound was the faint drumming of raindrops against the pavement. You felt as if you were standing outside of yourself, staring at this girl who looked so broken and small.

With a shaky breath, you fished your phone out of your pocket, fingers trembling as you scrolled to Cam's number. You hesitated for a second, feeling a strange, bitter sense of defeat. Rafe had already stripped so much of your self-worth; even calling Cam felt like another small submission to Rafe's control. But you couldn't stay here.

The phone rang twice before Cam's voice filled the line, warm and slightly sleepy. "Hey y/n?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. The sob you'd been holding back escaped, the weight of the night pressing down on you all at once.

"Hey, are you alright?" Cam's tone shifted instantly, concern flooding his voice.

You took a deep breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Can you… can you come get me?"

~~~~~

As you woke up, your heart continued pounding from your dream. It felt so real, and it was for you at one point, and it felt like torture to keep having to relive it again.

~~~~~

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you looked out over the crowd. The night air was crisp, the stadium lights casting everything in a golden glow. You hadn't been to a football game in ages, and even though the noise and energy of the crowd were overwhelming, you were glad you'd let your friends drag you out here.

Your friend Bella leaned over, nudging you with a grin. "Isn't this so much better than moping in your dorm all night?"

You forced a smile, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'm glad I came." You meant it, or at least part of you did. They'd insisted you join them tonight, hoping to pull you out of the isolation you'd slipped into over the past few months. For a second, you almost didn't come, thinking of all the excuses you could make. But here you were, dressed in your school colors, surrounded by people who cared, trying to be normal again.

Yet, as you watched the players run across the field, your thoughts drifted to how much had changed. How you used to feel comfortable in crowds like these, carefree and loud. Now, it felt like a thin layer of normalcy you were trying to wear, hoping it would eventually fit.

As the game broke for halftime, you stood up. "I'm gonna grab some snacks. Anyone want anything?"

They all jumped at the offer. Mia gave you a list with a smirk. "Just think of it as your penalty for making us drag you out here."

Rolling your eyes, you headed for the concession stand, weaving through the crowd until you finally reached the line. It felt oddly peaceful to be alone, a chance to catch your breath from the excitement of the game and the effort of trying to act carefree.

But then, just as you stepped forward in line, a familiar voice behind you made your heart stop.

"Hey," Rafe murmured, his voice low and uncharacteristically soft.

You froze, debating whether to even turn around. You hadn't spoken to him since he ruined your breakfast last week, and you'd been determined to keep it that way. But something in his tone caught you off guard, and reluctantly, you glanced back at him.

"Can we talk?" he asked, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked almost contrite, but his eyes still held that edge, the exact look you'd seen too many times.

You crossed your arms, already feeling your walls go up. "What is there to talk about?"

He sighed, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. "I just think… we should put everything behind us. I mean, we're bound to see each other, and now that Topper and Mia are getting closer, it would be better if we could just… let it go."

Your jaw tightened. "Let it go? You mean forget everything you put me through?"

He shrugged as if that should be easy. "Look, that's just how I am, you know? You could never handle me—"

"You're right," you interrupted, your voice stronger than expected. "I couldn't handle the lying. I couldn't handle being with someone who hurt me just because that's who they are. I couldn't handle seeing you fuck another girl."

He barely flinched, his expression annoyingly indifferent. "You think you saw something. We were going through a rough patch anyway, and you know it."

Your hands shook as you clenched your fists, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, I saw it. You lied over and over and then acted like I was the crazy one for not believing you."

Rafe rolled his eyes as if he'd heard it all before. "Look, we don't have to keep going back and forth about this. I'm here trying to make things easier. If you want to keep holding on to some old grudge, that's on you."

You took a breath, forcing yourself to keep your composure. "Rafe, it's not a grudge—it's knowing who you are. I know you're never going to admit it, but I'm done pretending like you didn't ruin us."

He shrugged, dismissing your words with a half-smirk. "Fine, whatever you say."

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling both angry and strangely free. You'd finally confronted him, and he'd shown you exactly who he was—again.

When you returned to your friends, arms full of snacks, Mia looked at you curiously. " Is everything okay?"

You forced a smile. "Yeah. Better than it's been in a while."

When the game reached its conclusion, as you walked towards the stadium's exit, a familiar voice caught your ear.

"hey, y/n!" The tall brunette man called out to you.

It was Cam. The two of you had become friends since he picked you up after Rafe left you on the street. Well, a little bit more than friends. You wouldn't say the two of you were dating because you'd never put a label on it. Still, you had been ‘talking’ to him since the beginning of the year and sleeping in his room occasionally.

You stopped in your tracks, asking your friends to wait for you before approaching him. He was leaning against a wall by himself, smirking at you as you walked over. It felt good to feel wanted, but part of you knew anything with Cam would never work because you couldn't even picture yourself being in another relationship after Rafe.

"I fancy seeing you here," Cam joked in a mock British accent, making you both cringe and slightly giggle.

You rolled your eyes, but a grin tugged at your lips. “Nice accent, really nailed it.”

Cam chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “What can I say? I aim to impress.” He leaned closer, his gaze settling on you with that familiar warmth. “So, you’re actually out tonight. Didn’t expect to see you at a game.”

“Yeah, it’s… been a while,” you admitted, shifting slightly as his hand found your arm, his fingers lingering just a bit longer than necessary. A warmth spread from where he touched, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something deeper than friendship.

His fingers trailed down to your wrist, tracing lazy circles with his thumb. “You should come out more,” he murmured. “I miss seeing you around.” There was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes that made you feel seen like he actually cared about you—not just as a friend, but something more.

You were about to respond when you felt an odd weight on you, as though someone was watching. You glanced over Cam’s shoulder, and your stomach twisted as you locked eyes with Rafe. He was leaning against the far wall, his expression dark and unreadable, his gaze trained on the two of you with a sharp intensity that sent a chill down your spine. But he didn’t make a move to approach. Instead, he just watched, his jaw tight and his eyes simmering between anger and resentment.

Cam must have noticed the shift in your expression because he gently cupped your face, drawing your focus back to him. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, forcing Rafe out of your mind as you looked back at Cam. The concern in his eyes melted away the anxiety for a second. “Yeah, sorry,” you murmured, leaning into his touch just a bit. “I’m good.”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been wanting to ask if maybe you wanted to go out sometime, just us. You know… something different?”

The sincerity in his voice and the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek made you feel almost safe as if you could finally move forward. You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

In your peripheral vision, you could still see Rafe standing there, unmoving, his gaze locked onto you. But this time, you didn’t look back. You stayed in the moment with Cam, focusing on his warm smile and its comfort, realizing maybe it was finally time to let yourself be happy.

~~~~~

You sat cross-legged on your bed, flipping idly through a textbook, when Mia burst into the room with a huge grin, practically bouncing on her heels.

“Guess what!” she announced, eyes shining with excitement.

You looked up, arching an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Topper invited me to the beach tonight,” she said, drawing out the last word with a delighted sigh. “And… he told me I could bring you, too.”

At that, you felt yourself go stiff. “Topper invited me? Why would he want me there?”

Mia rolled her eyes, crossing the room to sit beside you. “He’s just being nice! He knows we’re close, and he wants me to feel comfortable. And maybe he figured you’d be the best buffer in case things got, you know, awkward.”

You stared at Mia, skepticism etched across your face. “Mia, you know Topper and Rafe are best friends, right? You really think he just invited me along for the fun of it?”

Mia waved a dismissive hand, her expression somewhere between pleading and confident. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but Topper promised me it wouldn’t be a big deal. Besides, this is about me and him. You’re just my plus-one, so I don’t feel like I’m getting in too deep alone.”

You folded your arms, still unconvinced. “And you don’t think Rafe’s going to be there? I haven’t exactly been dying to see him.”

Mia huffed, crossing her arms to match your posture. “Okay, I get that, but you don’t have to talk to him. Just be there with me and have a good time. We can stick together, and if he even looks at you wrong, I’ll drag you out of there myself.”

You could see how badly she wanted you to say yes, and you were tired of feeling like the shadow of your past with Rafe was lurking over everything. Maybe if you went, it would feel less like he was still dictating your life from a distance. Still, the thought of facing him—even at a crowded beach with Mia by your side—made your stomach twist.

“Fine,” you finally sighed, feeling your defenses weakening. “I’ll go. But if he starts anything, we’re leaving. Promise?”

Mia grinned and crossed her fingers. “Promise. And trust me, this is going to be good for you. Just give it a shot.”

……

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Enjoyed my fic? Leave feedback! Comment/reblog!

Wanna see more? Check out my fic ‘i don’t smoke’

#dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #dark rafe x reader #obx imagine #rafe obx #obx fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks

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panic-at-the-fiction · 3 days ago

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A problem to work with

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a problem to work with. He’s annoying, snarky, hot headed and you don’t get along. And this has absolutely nothing to do with your thoughts about how big his arms are, or how hot he is when he’s mad. No this is only about how difficultly annoying he is.

Warning: Tension, banter, eventual smut.

A/N: don’t we all still enjoy pretending it’s 2012 and all the avengers are happily alive and working and living together in the tower. Like I miss that! Let’s put Clint back in the vent and go back to the good old days.

There was a lot of things you loved about your job, ok well maybe there was a few things, but certainly, Bucky Barnes was not one of them.

“Wow, that’s a good look on your doll.” He smiled as you walked down the stairs of the hotel into the Lobby where he stood waiting for you.

“Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.”

Now one might assume with banter so playful the two of you might have something going on, but you don’t. This was just a mission, you were just playing the part, not to be mistaken for anything real between the two of you.

In fact, just a week ago the two of you couldn’t stand each other, it was Tony’s idea to set you two up in such a long close quarters mission.

“You have to be kidding me Tony, you know how annoying Barnes is. We’ll tear each other's heads off before we even make it to the gala.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah even I have to protest this Tony, I mean (y/n) and Buck in the field, no backup? Couldn’t we partner them with someone else?”

“We can’t rearrange all of our mission plans so that these two don’t have to interact with each other. You both are grown ass adults, suck it up and play nice.” He said with finality before leaving the room. Steve sighed and joined him out in the hallway.

You crossed your arms and looked over at Bucky as he reclined in his seat. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Thought I was annoying.”

“You are that's why I thought you would have something to say on the subject.”

He shook his head and clenched his jaw, and you felt your heart drop, damn him. “Tony’s right, we’re adults. You just gotta stop acting like a brat so we can work together.”

“Oh please, if this is anyone's problem to solve it’s yours. You’re the one who’s going to actually have to trust me on this mission if we’re to get anything done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah, I’ll trust you, you play nice, I'll do the same. One week, let’s play professionals.”

“Fine.”

And you both had played nice ever since. He greeted you with a smile when he picked you up the next morning, carried your bag into the hotel, he even started the mission by letting you run point. Of course, it felt like a trick at first but once you realized he was being serious you returned the favor, bought coffee for the two of you as you staked out the location of the gala, let him do all the talking with the host you gathered information from, and made the two of your dinner the night before the big event. That night felt the most real, things shifted.

You set down a plate of food and a cheap bear in front of Bucky as he poured over the blueprints on the table in your shared hotel room. “So the two guards will be posted by each door in uniform, but two guards in disguise as waiters will be standing by these two entrances.”

“Barnes, I know, we’ve gone over the plan three times tonight, we know the layout backwards and forwards. You can take a break.”

He sighed heavily as he rubbed at the tightness in his shoulders. You stared, watching his arms flex with the movement, the expression on his face altering the chemicals of your brain.

“Thanks (y/n),” he said, taking the plate you had set in front of him.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, reminding yourself what was important here. “Anytime Barnes.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me Barnes, what are you, my sergeant?” He laughed playfully. You hadn’t ever heard him laugh like that, his usual attitude toward you didn’t allow for that type of light heartiness.

“Oh, because you just love when I bark orders at you.” You laughed while taking a sip of your drink.

“Who says I don't?” He gave you that 1940s smile you just know won so many girls over back in the day.

You tried not to choke as you looked away from him, hiding the heat that crawled up your neck. “Well, I guess I just figured Bucky was reserved for your friends, like Steve and Sam.”

“Are we not friends?”

You studied him, you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Are we?”

He leaned back in his chair, “do you want to be?”

“Do you?”

The room filled with silence as you both settled without an answer. Neither of you had an answer.

No, you would rather not be his friend, you didn’t think you could handle any more nice things coming from him. His smile made your stomach flip, and his proximity made your hair stand up, it was killing you the amount of alone time you were getting with him. But even worse the idea of it all being gone in 24 hrs and things going back to how they were made your chest hurt.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now, big day tomorrow.” You said excusing yourself from the table.

“Yeah” He sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

You paused at the door to your room before turning back for just a second. “Goodnight Bucky, get some sleep.” You smiled softly as you left him.

You didn’t run into Bucky much the next morning. He left a note saying he needed to double-check some things before getting ready for the gala tonight, but he promised to meet you in the lobby on time.

That leads you to now, standing in front of the mirror looking at the damn dress. Your heart pounded in your chest, you had forgotten about the dress. Originally intended for one of Tony’s galas that was canceled, you had never had a chance to wear this one. You had been excited to bring it along for the gala, but now it taunted you. It taunted you with its silkiness, its low cut, its backlessness.

All you could think was, would Bucky like it? It made you sick with nerves. This was not relevant. There was a high-profile target at tonight's gala, there were a weeks worth of snooping, and stake outs, and gathering information, months of research and tracking at stake here, but you were thinking of his hands on your back in that stupid dress if you were lucky enough to find an excuse to dance tonight.

You shut the thoughts out of your head and did your best to cool yourself down with some water to get your mind out of the gutter. This was just the two of you playing nice, being professional, this man despised you outside the walls of this hotel, outside of this mission.

You mentally slapped yourself as you got in the elevator heading down to the lobby, preparing yourself as you walked down the hotel's grand staircase.

You met Bucky's gaze from where he stood waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase. Damn he looked good. You could feel his eyes on you, every warning thought about the consequences of getting carried away leaving your brain. Was it getting hotter in here?

“Wow, that’s a good look on you doll.” He smiled playfully.

DAMN.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He offered you his arm as he walked you out to the car. “And besides what did I say about calling me Barnes. We’re not here for you to bark orders at me anymore, we’re here to play civil.”

You smirked as he opened your door for you. “Is that what you said? All I heard was that you like it when I boss you around.” You could hear him choke a little bit as he shut the passenger door before getting in on the drivers side.

“Now remember, we’re Mr. & Mrs. Laker, the rich real estate investors who just moved here from LA. We’ve been married 8 years now.” He said switching focus on getting to the gala.

“Kids?” You asked teasingly.

He smiled, “No, we're just waiting until things settle down with our work.”

“Aw I was hoping for a James jr.” He just shook his head. Your gaze shifted to his grip on the steering wheel where you almost lost yourself in THE thoughts again.

Damn get it together.

“Now you remember the layouts right.”

“Yes, I reviewed them this morning.”

“Good.”

He stopped as he pulled up in front of the venue you had scoped out just a few days prior. He put the car in park before walking around to your side opening the door for you and extending his hand for you to take. “Mrs. Laker.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laker.” You instinctively played your part and locked your arm in his.

“Here,” He tossed the car keys to the valley. “Not a scratch on it.” He added before leading you inside

As you entered the gorgeous high-class event waiters swarmed around you offering different champagnes, wines and finger foods, the room alive with rich people's conversations and music.

You smiled with your best rich lady smile as you let Bucky lead you around the party, choosing a table where you had a clear view of the event you set down grabbing a drink as you did so. You could feel your death grip on the glass as you forced yourself to keep your eyes on the dance floor where a few couples swayed and not on the very handsome man beside you.

Bucky placed his hand gently on your thigh as he took the glass out of your hand. He leaned in his face close to your ear in a way that made your brain short circuit. “We’ll have a better chance of bumping into Lestrade if we don’t stay in one place.”

You swallowed hard, “What do you suggest?”

He pulled away so he could look in your eyes, and you have to stop yourself from staring at his lips. “How about a dance,” He paused, offering you his hand and making sure the surrounding others could hear him. “Sweetheart.”

“Of course dear.” You smiled, kicking yourself for forgetting it all for the image of playing a married couple.

As you reached the dance floor his arm slipped around your waist, his hand on the small of your back causing you to stiffen. His metal hand gently held your right hand while your left hand rested on his bicep.

His steps were smooth with years of practice, his subtle pushes and pressure on your back letting you know where to step next.

“Now where did the soldier learn to dance?” You smiled as he shook his head.

“Like I said doll.” He licked his lips looking down at you with an ease in his eyes, you hadn’t seen before. “It's called class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He leaned in, pulling you to his chest so that he could whisper in your ear. “Trust me you won’t find anyone else who can do it like I do.” You could feel his smirk, “dancing that is.”

“Yeah, is that so Barnes? Show me your moves then.”

He didn't hesitate to spin you out and turn you around so that you swayed with your back to his chest. The heat pulling in your stomach where he now rests his metal hand over top of yours. You felt his lips on your ear. “Oh I’ve got plenty of moves.” You held in a sigh as you let yourself get swept up in the closeness.

“Lestrade, 10 o'clock, mingling at the drink table.” Your brain turned back on as your focused turned back to the mission, the song you had been dancing to fading out as it ended.

You pulled away from him, trailing off the dance floor. “You know sweetie, I think that dancing made me fairly thirsty. I need another drink.”

“Anything you want sweetheart.” He called as he followed suit.

It was going to be a long evening.

Part 2

Coming soon

#biceps #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #winter solider x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter solider x y/n

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i2sunric · 1 day ago

Note

so... who do you think is more of a 🍑 guy and who is more of a 🍒 guy in enhypen? Also HIIII BB TEXT ME WHEN YOU CAN

a/n: hey <3 sorry late reply, i’m not very active anymore but you can text me as well. any particular reason? haha 🩷

saur, let’s get to business

⟢. HEESEUNG | BOTH

heeseung is that type of guy who’d like anything as long as it belongs to you. if he’s fucking you missionary, he won’t forget to suck your perky nipples and slap your tits when you’re being a brat.

on the other hand, he’d touch your ass on any occasion. especially when you’re in reverse cowgirl and he gets to enjoy the perfect view of your backside. he could come on spot

⟢. JAY | ASS

uh uh, he’s a literal SIMP for your ass. the way your cheeks look, so pretty marked up by his slaps. when he’s eating you out, he’d bite on one and just admire his work.

his favourite position to fuck you is doggy, so he can grind in between your cheeks, watch how his precum smears all around you. then, he’d pound into you roughly and grip onto your ass to steady himself.

⟢. JAKE | TITS

are we even surprised? that guy lives loves laughs boobs. he could fall asleep between them, he’d suck ‘em, bite ‘em and might as well cum all over your chest.

they just get him so turned on, he can’t help it. whether they might be small or big, he doesn’t care as long as they’re yours. so, when he’s needy, he’d always ask you to give him a boob job and make him the happiest guy in the world.

⟢. SUNGHOON | BOTH

i feel like sunghoon wouldn’t really choose one or the other. he likes everything as long as it’s yours. and he gets to mark it.

your boobs are hurt from the teeth marks on them, your nipples sore from how he sucked them, as if he could get milk out of you. your ass burns from the slaps he gives you when you don’t behave wall and act like a brat.

but you like it, and that’s all he cares about.

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mermaidgirl30 · 2 days ago

Text

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 3: You Trust Me?✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you the next chapter! This has been one of my favorite series to write, and I have so much more in store for these two! Joel is so so soft for reader 🥹 Happy reading! I love nothing more than to read your comments on what you thought, so please consider leaving me comments and reblogs 💕

Chapter Summary: You’ve got so many reasons not to trust another man again in your life, but Joel seems to give you ten for why you should trust him. One of them being calming a panic attack in the middle of a parking lot.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 9.7k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, mentions of an acoustic guitar, panic attacks at the store

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The long days seem to dwindle by with your heart still lodged deep in your throat. It doesn’t seem to matter that the calming rain patters on your foggy window, doesn’t matter that fall used to be your favorite season. You feel hollow, torn apart piece by piece with every second that brushes past your icy skin.

You feel broken. You are broken. And you’re not sure anything will ever fix that.

Every day you find something new that’s too hard to manage to get your body to do. Brushing your teeth, getting yourself dressed, making yourself eat when all you can stomach is the empty feeling inside you. You’re just so tired of fighting, so very exhausted of trying to just get by. But your body screams at you to fight.

Fight for yourself. Win. Get out of bed, eat, make an effort to survive. So, you do. You try because that’s all you hear ringing in the back of your mind. You have to keep going. Don’t let Angela or any of the ones that dragged you down keep you from thriving.

Live.

Today is like all the other days you fight to not let your depression win. Except today marks two weeks that you’ve been here. Two weeks that you’ve survived. And as much as you feel like giving up every second of every day, you always seem to find one tiny reason to get out of bed. Joel seems to be that reason.

Joel… and his warm cups of coffee. The kind that he douses in creamer and sugar and caramel just for you. Because that’s how you like it. And it never fails. Every single morning your cup is there just waiting for you, including Joel’s warm smile and soft brown eyes…

That’s your reason for getting out of bed. Joel.

You discovered that Joel reported you as found to the police department a few days ago. You should feel relieved that he did that, but it didn’t matter. There was no one looking for you, so it didn’t make a damn bit of a difference. No one was coming to get you… Nobody even tried reaching out which makes you feel that much worse.

You battle with yourself, wrestling your way to slide on a pair of black leggings, along with a long cashmere sweater that falls clear down your thighs. You fight to comb the knots from your hair, clenching your teeth with every painful drag of the brush.

Fight. Win. Don’t let them control you.

Flexing your trembling hands, you squeeze a generous amount of spearmint toothpaste onto your purple toothbrush and jam it into your mouth, scraping it back and forth until you don’t taste the bitter aftertaste of almost two years in captivity.

Your fingers tremble beneath you with every slide of the toothbrush, every clinking noise against your teeth making you gag at the memories of you being left alone with disgusting men in a tiny bathroom against your will. It’s too much, this is too much. So you rinse your mouth and scamper out of the bathroom, closing the door until you can’t feel the goosebumps rising on your skin anymore.

You’re safe. They’re not here. You’re free. But you don’t feel free because those painful memories are alive in your mind, painting vivid pictures that make you instantly want to vomit and recoil into bed. But you don’t let the monsters take you back down into the darkness. You flee to sunlight and hope. You make your way to something that makes you feel lighter, where you can breathe easier, to something that gives you hope.

And that something is Joel.

You smell the fresh coffee brew in the air, inhaling the rich scent as if you can already taste it. When you turn the corner you see Joel’s broad back to you, busy with the coffee machine and the daily newspaper, his large hand brushing past the blur of small-print words.

Instead of stopping to say good morning to him, you decide to venture down the hall. You haven’t been brave enough to really take in the house and explore, but now? Maybe you could try.

The sunlight shines through the open glass windows, making the photographs and hanging art glitter like specks of gold surrounding the black frames. Your eyes skim the family photographs, taking in Joel’s big smile in each of them. One is of him and Tommy, arms clasped around each other’s backs with a little girl standing in front of them, who you suppose is Sarah. Her dark curls spiral to her shoulders while she wraps an arm around her dad.

They look so happy, like a normal family who has never been broken. You wish yours looked like that. But again, it never was. You were always surrounded by screaming parents, right on the brink of a divorce while you’d stay tucked in your room with your hands covering your ears, praying for the noise to just stop.

But it stopped alright. It stopped the moment they crashed their car on top of a mountain and left you to fend for yourself at your uncle’s house. An uncle that never loved you. An uncle that abandoned Washington the moment you moved out at just eighteen-years-old. And then he did too…

You keep moving, holding your composure and tears in. Even though you feel like collapsing right in this spot, right under Joel’s family picture. A family that was still together to this day while yours was nonexistent.

You wish you still had a family, but you never really did in the first place. Did you? No. Mom was always too busy with looking perfect, constantly obsessing with lessening her wrinkles and getting plastic surgery. And dad? Well, he was always too busy working at the law firm and hooking up with his assistant behind mom’s back. You were always left to fend for yourself, so now isn’t any different than it’s ever been.

You’re alone. You’ve always been alone, always just survived. Ever since you were little, that’s all you’ve known — how to be independent and just make it. So what’s different now? Now you just have to swim through the trauma and hope you don’t drown in the process. Because this right now is too much to handle, even for you.

It’s too fucking much.

Choking down the held back tears, you make your way down the long hallway, your body moving on autopilot just to escape the visions that blur into muted noise. The pristine white walls clash against the polished floors, painting you a picture of hope. Something you’ve never really had before.

Keep fighting. Live. Make a change. Break the cycle.

Holding on to new hope, you keep going until you turn the corner and find a large, open room that makes you audibly gasp. All memories of broken families and internal fears are suddenly forgotten, pushed aside to take in this glorious sight.

Holy shit.

Towering mahogany bookshelves sit stacked against the white walls, the cascading windows letting in enough sunlight to reflect off the broken-in spines of each book. Two plush ivory oversized chairs sit in the corner of the room, one opposite the other. An electric fireplace sits idle against one of the bookshelves, draped in vines from the tropical plant that splays atop the bookshelf nearest the fireplace.

This room is… magical. Exactly what you needed. An escape from reality. An escape from your mind.

You trace lines against the smooth covers of the various books, feeling the cracked spines and intricate cursive letters on some of the older books. There’s genres of everything you could ever imagine. Starting from ancient history and going all the way to popular fictional books that you’d see on New York’s best seller’s lists. This room has everything.

You could get lost in here.

Forgetting where you are, your hand snaps back when you hear a deep chuckle behind you. “Thought I heard you come down this mornin’. See you found one of my favorite rooms.”

When you turn around, you see him smiling over at you, the glow of the sun making his brown eyes sparkle an almond brown honey color. If you’re being honest with yourself, it makes you feel a little lighter because his eyes are so warm.

He’s warm.

“These are all yours?” you ask with a gasp as your finger continues to trail against the golden spine of an old history book.

“All mine. Well, a lot of ‘em I got for Sarah. You see, she’s a bit of a bookworm, and she might’ve got me into the classics. So, now I’m jus’ as bad as her,” he laughs as he leans against the bright wall, his smile light and easy like the relaxed state he’s in now.

“This place, it’s incredible,” you breathe out, continuing to skim over the spotless shelves, your fingertips clashing with leather and the feel of worn pages. It smells like freedom and escape, someplace where you could stay buried for days.

He runs his fingers through his slicked back curls, bicep flexing against his dark blue flannel, an easy smile hanging on his lips. This might be the most relaxed you’ve seen him since you came here. He looks almost… happy the way he’s looking at you all light and carefree, like he’s enjoying the view. Like he’s happy that you’ve found something else you lost.

“You like it?” he asks, his eyes caramel pools that you could almost sink into.

“I love it,” you reply enthusiastically, your voice almost unrecognizable.

A warm smile spreads on his mouth, making his brown eyes sparkle that much more in the dewy sunlight. “Then it’s yours, sweetheart. Borrow anything you want, read what you want.”

“Really?” you ask with a raised brow, sliding a book back into its place on the second shelf.

“Really,” he nods with a smile.

“Joel, thank you. This is… this is perfect.”

“Jus’ glad I found someone I can share my books with again.”

You stay just like that for the next minute — Joel on the other end of the room, looking back at you with the warmest smile you’ve ever seen. It makes your heart flutter, makes you want to smile back, but you just give him a tight-lipped smile and look back at the cream rug covering the floor, suddenly too shaky to say anything else.

Your eyes snap to something hidden in the corner of the room, a ray of sunlight hitting at just the right angle to make out something you missed entirely when you walked in. You guess you were too enamored by the books to notice the acoustic guitar sitting neatly on a stand right by the sheer curtain hanging over the window.

“Is this yours?” you ask, pointing to the acoustic guitar.

“Oh. Yeah, s’mine.” His eyes fall to the dark wood, the body glossy and sleek as it shines against the draped curtain. A splash of sunlight makes it shimmer for just a moment, until rain clouds cover the sun and cast the guitar back in shadows.

“You play guitar?” you question curiously as he takes a long, slow stride across the room.

“I used to. A long time ago.”

You watch him make his way over to the guitar. It’s like he’s tiptoeing across glass, careful in his steps to not trip and cut his tanned skin up. That’s how it seems when he hesitantly reaches out to glide his fingertips down the tight strings, skimming his thumb meticulously against the smooth surface of the polished neck as if he’s memorizing every single particle of the instrument. Like he’s reliving something he keeps hidden away from the rest of the world to see.

He’s quiet as he analyzes the guitar, almost like he’s reliving memories that only he can see. Were they good or bad ones? Judging by his wary stance and slow movements, you wonder if maybe they’re fragile memories.

“Used to?” you ask quietly, careful not to disturb whatever storm’s blowing through his mind.

“‘S’right. Haven’t played in quite some time,” he answers defeatedly as his thumb tracks along the outline of a carved moth. He lingers there for a moment, pinching his eyebrows together as if he’s trying to fight off whatever images are haunting his mind.

He looks… sad. Looks as if that guitar holds years of painful memories.

“Why’d you stop?” you push, afraid you’ve just struck a nerve by the way his back muscles tense and his jaw clenches up.

His hand wraps around the neck of the guitar, veins bulging in his neck as his eyes grow a shade darker. In the flit of sunshine that creeps through the window, you see a glimmer that looks a lot like a held back tear in the center of his right eye. That in itself sends a shot of pain through your chest.

He clears his throat and takes a step back, just enough to where he can only graze the edge of the guitar. His dark brown eyes are in a faraway place when he replies hesitantly. “It jus’—it… I guess it’s got a few memories attached to it that makes it hard to play now.”

When he drops his hand to his side and looks up at you, you see a man who’s hurting deep inside. You can see it in his weathered stare, in the dark circles beneath his sad brown eyes, in the way his bottom lip twitches each time his gaze falls on that acoustic guitar.

There’s something he lost, too. You just don’t know what.

Before the room gets too stifling and stuffy, he shakes off his frown and nods toward the hallway. “C’mon, I’ve got your coffee waitin’ on the counter for you. Don’t want it to get cold now.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile and exits the room, leaving you all alone once again. You find yourself looking back at the guitar, your eyes feeling heavy as you stare at the little moth ingrained into the smooth wood. There’s just something about it that makes your stomach drop.

This guitar was special to him, maybe it still is. You just wonder what can make a big, strong man like him crumble. You don’t want to see him turn to dust like you; you’ve got enough pain for the both of you. He doesn’t deserve pain. He’s too… good. And while he doesn’t technically wear his heart on his sleeve, you can see he keeps the pain hidden behind a mask.

Maybe one day he’ll show you his scars, too.

When you make your way back to the kitchen, your warm cup of coffee is sitting right there on the quartz island, the steam billowing out as if he just poured it. As you slip into your chair, you notice his shoulders are more relaxed and the weathered stare he had back in that room is nearly gone. Whether he put on a mask or tucked his feelings deep inside his pockets to where you can’t see, you still notice the dark lines that edge beneath his brown eyes.

Something hurt him, and it still haunts him to this day.

Slowly taking a sip of the sugary drink, your eyes snap up to him when you hear the deep timbre of his voice. “Used up the rest of the caramel this mornin’.”

You swallow the coffee down your throat and shift forward on the barstool. “Already?”

He chuckles and nods his head your way. “Apparently someone who’s got a sweet tooth used it all. Can’t imagine who that was.” He winks at you, and you can feel the bright blush stain your cheeks the wider his smile gets.

Clearing your throat, you push a lock of hair behind your ear and try to stop the red tint from spreading any further. “Looks like you found the culprit.”

“Looks like it,” he smiles, his lips tugging at his tanned skin, making a deep dimple press into the middle of his cheek. You can’t help yourself, so you give him a shy smile back in return. It seems to make his brown eyes sparkle that much brighter as he stares at you.

You take a few more sips of the caramel drink, enjoying every single drop like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Joel sets down his glass cup and bites his bottom lip, chewing nervously as he glances over at you. “I need to go pick up some things at the grocery store today. Shouldn’t take long at all, but I was wonderin’ if you wanted to come along with me?”

You choke on a sip of coffee and struggle to find your words. You haven’t been out in the real world in a very long time. You don’t even know how to even interact, nonetheless see strangers passing by you.

Tapping your nails nervously against the glass cup, you fight to get the words out. “Oh. You… want me to go to the store with you?”

“Only if you want. Figured you’d wanna pick some things out.”

“Umm. Okay. Sure. I can go with you,” you breathe out nervously, pushing all your fears down as you swallow back the answer you really wanted to say.

“Alright. Well, how’s ‘bout you finish up breakfast, and we can go after you get ready?” His thumb brushes over the curve of his coffee cup, and your eyes track his movements as he slowly brings the edge to his lips.

And then you’re swallowing back fears again and dropping your eyes to the floor, awaiting the panic that’ll surely flood your system when you get to the store.

You can do this. Fight the fear.

Biting the bullet, you look up and give him a slight nod. “Okay, after breakfast.”

Joel grins and turns back to the refrigerator, away from your now wide eyes. You’re suddenly regretting your choice, but you have to go through with it. You have to be brave. For yourself.

You can do this.

Light rain patters on the passenger window, sending water droplets splashing along the side mirror. It’s only sprinkling, but the thunder in the near distance makes it seem like it might pour down at any second.

The engine hums as the wheels roll on the pavement, green trees blurring as Joel drives along the long, straight road. An old country song seeps through the speakers as Joel’s thumb taps along to the catchy tune. It’s oddly peaceful, driving with him in his truck. It almost makes you forget the nerves crawling up your spine.

“Does it always rain this much in Texas? I thought it was supposed to be like a desert here,” you ask, your eyes tracking the sea of trees outside your window.

“Usually is. Hell, we’re usually in a drought. But for some reason, we’ve been gettin’ a record amount this year. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” he says as he continues driving through the mist.

“That’s strange.” You trace the condensation on the window and draw little lines, hoping you’ll forget you’re about to go out in public.

“You must’ve brought some rain from Washington.” He smiles over at you and continues tapping his thumb along to the rhythm of the upbeat song.

“Guess I did,” you laugh under your breath as you finish off your window art of a blooming flower.

The music goes silent as Joel turns down the radio with the pad of his index finger. When you turn to look at him with questions in your eyes, he clears his throat and looks warily over at you. “Do you… do you miss it?”

“Miss what?” you whisper, letting your fingers pull against the edge of your warm sweater.

“Washington,” he responds back, eyes flicking between you and the road ahead.

You take a moment to envision the forest green trees, the frigid air by the edge of the sea, the cliffsides you used to hang over to stare into the deep blue ocean. And that’s when you feel a sharp pain jab inside your chest. “Sometimes… I miss the waterfalls, the salty breeze of the ocean, the beautiful nature. I’ve never seen a state as gorgeous as Washington. And how green it is? Yeah, I guess I do miss it…”

The front of the truck grows quiet as Joel takes in your answer. His palm rakes against his dark beard slowly, brushing across his mouth like he’s thinking really hard about your answer. And just when you think he’ll drop the conversation, he says something that leaves you speechless.

“I’ll take you back.”

Your eyes blow wide as you repeat the sentence in your head. I’ll take you back. Why would he do that…

“What?” you ask, jaw dropped like you just got slapped in the face.

He gives you a small smile and looks over at you with the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “When you’re ready, that is. And only if you want to go back. I could help you get your feet back on the ground, find you a nice place where you’ll be comfortable. If that’s what you want.”

You stare at him dumbstruck, your words lodged deep in your throat with every second that ticks by. He’ll take you back. But why would he do that for you? Why would he do what no one else would? Why does he care what happens to you…

“Joel, that’s—that’s too much. I can’t ask you to do that,” you protest, shaking your head like what he just said is impossible.

He shakes his head, making a sandy lock of hair fall against the side of his forehead. “It’s not too much, and I’d do it in a heartbeat. S’no trouble,” he says adamantly, like he won’t hear anything else about it. It’s settled for him.

“Thank you…” you whisper out, your voice barely audible above the hum of the engine.

He arches an eyebrow and looks over at you, tugging his lips into an easy smile. “Ya know, gonna have to get you your own car, too.”

“Joel,” you warn through clenched teeth. He is not getting you a car. Absolutely no way.

“What?” he shrugs. “You can’t get around without a car.”

You shake your head unbelievably and open your mouth wide. “I can’t pay for a car.”

“‘M not askin’ you to. I’ve got money.”

And again, you can’t believe how insistent and easy-going he’s taking this. “Joel. I can’t ask you for a car. Absolutely not. And besides, I’m not ready to drive yet.”

He flashes you a smile and gives you a nod of encouragement. “S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get there in time. And when you do, you’ll have a car.”

You lick your bottom lip, frustrated slightly that he’s being so kind to you. No one has ever been this nice in your entire life. Not even your parents… Why is he treating you like you’re important? You’ve never been important. So why does he act like you’re the only thing that currently matters?

“There’s no stopping you, is there?” you give up, your back flush to the warm seat as you stare into deep brown eyes that belong to the kindest man you’ve ever met.

He thinks you’re important.

“Not a chance,” he chuckles, his airy laugh floating through the cabin of the truck, striking another nerve in your heart.

He’s so kind, more than that. He genuinely wants you to thrive, to live. That takes a little weight off your heavy chest.

It’s quiet for a moment, only the light wind and patter of raindrops taking up the space. But then he shifts uncomfortably and flicks his wandering eyes back over at you. There’s a deep crease between his thick eyebrows, and that look has you back on the edge of your seat. “Can I ask you somethin’?” he asks delicately.

You swallow back nerves and nod your head in response. “Umm, okay. Sure.”

“What, umm. What happened to your parents, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

The question makes you tilt a little off your axis, throws you off just enough to where your right hand is discreetly clenched so tight around the side of the seat that you swear it turns pale white. You weren’t prepared for that question. You’re never prepared. But, you might as well just spill it. What else do you have to lose?

“They—they died when I was fifteen… Crashed their car on the side of a mountain, and they ended up rolling off the edge. On the very same day they were driving to get a divorce…”

His eyes blow wide for a second and in the next he’s dragging a heavy hand over his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart. ‘M so sorry. That’s… traumatic.”

You can’t help but to puff out a pathetic laugh from that. Your life has been nothing but traumatic; you just learn to live through it.

You silently nod and continue on. “After I found out, the judge decided I’d go live with my uncle. An uncle who barely talked to me. He didn’t even want me there, but I had no other options. So, I left as soon as I turned eighteen and moved into a dorm when I went to college.”

“Is he still…”

“He moved out of Washington as soon as I left. Last I heard, he died from a heart attack. So I’ve just kinda been on my own since I was eighteen. But really, I’ve been alone for much longer than that.”

The inside of the truck goes completely silent, except the quiet hum of the purring engine. You don’t exactly like talking about your family drama and your awful past, but it’s easier when you already feel dead inside. Maybe if you talk enough Joel will decide to drop you off on the side of the street and leave you with a good luck wave.

He wouldn’t do that, though. That’s just your unhinged mind spiraling like your entire life is.

“That’s… fuck. No one should ever be put through that. What you did, what you had to do. M’so sorry.”

You shrug it off and act like you’re just fine, but really you just don’t want to cry. You don’t want to show him how weak and pathetic you truly are. You used to be stronger than this…

Holding in a sob, you play it off like it’s nothing. “It’s alright. I mean, I’ve been through a lot worse since then. I guess I’m good at being alone…”

It gets quiet again, only light breathing and shifting uncomfortably in your seat, trying to hide the pain that’s serenading through your body. Joel’s eyes keep flicking over to you, a pained expression masking his tanned face. He’s clenching his jaw, running his fingers through his dark locks, fisting the steering wheel until his knuckles are white.

His head turns to you when he’s stopped at a red light, and his eyes turn a lighter honey color, and those soft eyes nearly shatter you in your seat. “You don’t have to be. Alone. You don’t have to be alone anymore...”

You swallow back the tears building in your eyes while your mouth drops open in awe. Before you even get the chance to say anything, he’s stepping on the gas and looking back into the fog of the rainy day.

You don’t have to be alone anymore.

The rest of the ride is silent as you contemplate his words and their meaning. You don’t have to be alone. He means you don’t have to be alone because he’s here now. He won’t let you be alone. Joel is the one person who isn't giving up on you.

He’s so patient, so generous, so good. He’s too good for you but here he is, wading through the rough waters to make sure your head’s above the waves. He won’t let you drown. Not today, maybe not ever…

After a few more minutes, the truck is abruptly stopping, and Joel is cutting the engine. Your head lurches up, and you stare vacantly at the semi-busy parking lot.

The parking lot…

It looks just like the one you got taken from… Rows of parked cars sit along the damp cement, empty carts are scattered ahead in the little blue cart holder, people rush to and from the store back to their cars. And then you see a man exit his white Sedan with a black baseball cap backwards on his head. The sight has you flinching, your nails digging into the leather of the seat when he turns his head and looks directly at you. It’s only for a second, but you feel those black pits searing into your skull just like that day they took you…

“Well, here we are. A little more crowded than I thought it’d be for a Wednesday afternoon. We can jus’—.”Joel’s hand clasps the side of the driver’s door as he steps out, looking back at you with worried brown eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

It’s like your voice is lurched deep in your throat as water consumes your entire vocal cords. You can’t swallow, can’t speak, can barely even blink as you watch the shady man cross the road, taking one look back at you until he disappears behind the clear sliding doors of the store. And it still feels like he’s watching you, planning his next move to where he can get you alone.

You remember that day all over again, just like it was yesterday. And now, all you can think of to do is panic.

“N… no. I—.” You can’t even finish your sentence, only able to throw your seatbelt off and claw at the door handle, feeling like you’re suffocating on thick air that nearly strangles you to death.

You need to flee, run until your lungs collapse, but you have nowhere to go.

Tears well in your eyes as you fight to push out the images of the day you were taken, but they only push back harder, igniting your memories into fresh ones. You’re hyperventilating, holding your chest so tightly that you feel your heart skyrocket as you shake in your seat while your feet are planted on the wet cement of the parking lot.

Joel hurries around the side of the truck and throws your door open, trying his best to calm you down. “Hey, hey. It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. Breathe for me.”

“Joel… I…”

“Breathe,” he coaxes in a soothing bravado voice. He kneels down in front of you to where he’s looking right up at you, and he’s got those soft brown eyes — the ones that always seem to calm you down. And when you have enough courage to lift your eyes, there they are. Warm, brown, soft, soothing. He’s soothing.

“That’s it. Take a nice deep breath for me. Jus’ like that. Attagirl,” he praises, keeping his honey-colored eyes right on you.

“I—I was…” you start but like always, you can’t finish.

You’re pathetic.

“S’alright, sweetheart. M’right here. Jus’ breathe for me. And when you’re ready, tell me what’s wrong.” His hand brushes past your feet, close enough to touch your exposed ankle, but he never does. Because he knows better. He knows it’ll just set off a string of catastrophic events that’ll only lead you into a deeper black hole than you already are.

But yet, you can’t help but want it. Because you feel how warm he is. Just like that night he carried you to the bathroom. You remember how warm and comforting you felt with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, remember his woodsy cologne drowning out your fight or flight panic, remember how gentle he was with you…

You slowly lift your eyes up and push away the screaming voices in your mind. They seem to come to a jarring halt when you meet those soft brown eyes and a face you swear has an angelic glow about it. His fingers flex against the floorboard, just enough to where you can feel the warmth from his tanned skin, and just that motion causes your heart to still for just a beat.

Warm. He’s so warm.

After a few more seconds of steady breaths and his heavy gaze honing in on you, you get enough courage to shakily let your words out. “I was—I was taken in a parking lot just like this. In the middle of the day. And I—I guess I wasn’t quite ready to see another one.”

He falls silent, and his face drops like he’s just seen a ghost. His eyes glaze over as a heavy hand rakes down his clipped beard, slowly dragging it over his lips as he takes in your words. “Oh. Christ, m’so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t even think ‘bout that before I brought you here. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Shaking your head back and forth, you swallow and grimace. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t—I didn’t think I’d freak out. But then the memories hit me and I—I… it’s my fault. It’s all my—.”

He leans into the side of the truck, careful not to touch you, but still close enough to where you can almost taste his woodsy breath. “Shh. Don’t for a second think of apologizin’, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. Not one fuckin’ bit of it.”

He looks at you so intensely, so cautiously that you can clearly see the amber flecks that swirl under the cloudy skies, his jaw flexing back and forth as he searches for more to say, but he doesn’t have to say anything. You feel what he’s feeling. Regret, rage, sorrow. He wishes it never happened to you.

You take a shaky breath and glance up behind him, right as an older couple with two kids clinging to their arms passes peacefully by. A car door slams shut across the way, and it makes you jump in place, remembering that very moment you were corralled into a black van as the door slammed shut behind you, warning you that you were trapped.

As you cringe in your seat and feel your knuckles go white, you whisper, “I’m scared, Joel. I can’t—I can’t...”

“Hey. Can you look up at me?” he asks gently, slightly brushing the pad of his thumb against the side of your shoe. When you look up with watery eyes, he gives you an encouraging nod. “There ya go.”

Your body is trembling with every swift movement and every screeching halt of tires in the parking lot. You start to drift back into a panic, but Joel sees right through you and pulls you right back out with his chocolate brown eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me. Right on me. That’s it. Such a brave girl,” he coos; his voice sounding like a melodic tune that vanishes all your dark thoughts from wrapping their tangled vines completely around your stirred mind.

As you continue to stare at those beautiful caramel eyes, you get lost in the sound of his Southern drawl. “I want you to focus on one thing. It can be anything. A scent, a color, whatever brings you comfort. And I want you to focus on that one thing until your mind starts to quiet down.”

You look around the truck, searching the fresh leather, letting your eyes wander to a nearby green tree, focusing on some drifting stormy clouds that cover the sun. But none of that makes you feel good or even remotely calm, so you let your eyes wander to the rugged, Southern gentleman who’s kneeling right in front of you, begging with those soft brown eyes for you to get even just a semblance of a second of peace.

Warm. He’s so warm.

You get lost in his cinnamon, woodsy scent, fade into his coffee-colored eyes and feel like you’re crashing right into him. You can’t seem to stop staring, almost like you’re under a lovesick spell, but really it’s just your body telling you he is what brings you comfort. Joel Miller, the man who saved you from your impending doom.

So, that’s what you focus on. Him and his warm brown eyes.

“Okay,” you finally whisper out, never dropping your eyes from his.

He looks at you a second and tilts his head, making sure he heard you right. “You got it?”

“Mhm,” you hum back.

A faint smile appears on his mouth and then his hand is skimming the brim of the floor, close enough for you to feel the electricity from his touch zapping your leggings. But still, he doesn’t dare touch you. He’d never do it without your permission. You know this now.

“Now, close your eyes and picture that one thing that’s gonna drown out everything else,” he says through the light rain pattering on the tips of his broad shoulders, right onto his soft blue flannel.

“Joel…” you reply back leery.

“You trust me?” he asks with knit together eyebrows.

You chew your bottom lip for a second before you answer, throwing the question back and forth between your brain. “I—yes.”

He gives you a smile and nods. “Close ‘em for me then. Jus’ for a second.” You do exactly as he says.

When your eyes are fully shut, his Southern drawl floats through your ears. “Focus on my voice, sweetheart. Focus on how still it is; make your heart that same rhythm. Slow it down, jus’ like my words.”

You focus on every breath he breathes, every sound of the shift of his shoulders, every whisk of the wind sweeping through his tousled curls. For this moment, every single other restless sound outside the truck is silent. For the first time, all you hear is him.

You center your mind on him and him alone. And when that whiff of cedar trees and mahogany swirl all around you, you relax and breathe him in like he’s the last thing you’ll ever smell.

“Now, open your eyes,” he says after you lose track of time.

You slowly lift your eyelids and look out beneath your lashes as those bright brown eyes send you into a cloud of serenity. And in that moment, you really do feel like you’re home.

“There ya go, nice and slow. Feel that? Things are a bit quieter now,” he says gently, giving you a soft smile that makes you choke back tears.

Nodding, you reply, “Yeah, it actually is quieter.”

It’s quiet for a beat as you sit there, your palms on your thighs, fingers digging into your leggings, but his presence right in front of you is oddly calming. Just like taking a deep breath of Washington air in the mountains. You swear you almost smell those pine trees like you’re there, but it’s Joel you smell.

“You feel a little better?” he asks, scratching his fingers down his greying scruff, brown eyes flicking up at you like you’re the most important thing in the room.

“Yes,” you nod, still trying to wrap your mind around how quickly Joel was able to calm you down.

“See? Knew you could do it.” His smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and it makes you give him a shy smile in return.

When’s the last time someone was able to get you to smile? You can’t even remember.

“I did it because you helped me,” you confirm, wanting to make sure he knows he was the reason you had the courage to break through your panic attack.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I helped you, but you were the one that broke the panic attack. You’re so very brave, and I hope you know that.”

You’re so brave. He called you brave.

The way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip a beat. All soft and gentle and warm. You’ve never been around a man like Joel. Never once knew how good a man could be. But Joel, he’s like an angel sent from Heaven’s gates just for you. Or so it seems.

You swore to never trust a man again, but you can trust him.

“Now, you think you can make it in the store?” He tilts his head in the direction of the sliding doors, just as a young couple walks in with an empty grocery basket.

Gulping some courage down, you nod. “I—I think so.”

“Attagirl. Now, c’mon.” He holds the door open for you and calls your name softly, giving you that jolt you need to exit the truck. “It’s alright. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya. Not while I’m here.”

“You promise?” you ask when your feet hit the concrete, your voice shaky like you don’t quite believe him, but you do.

“Promise,” he nods, his crow’s feet pulling at the corners of his bright eyes. It’s enough to get your legs moving.

“Okay,” you whisper.

You follow closely on his heels, your fingertips grazing the bottom of his flannel, close enough to grab on if you need to. Your heart is galloping a thousand miles an hour with every step you take, but his woodsy scent is just enough to quiet down the yelling in your head.

When you get to the edge of the sliding doors, you freeze when they open to a busy grocery store. The loud noises of rustling bags and screeching wheels of carts is enough to make you want to run the opposite way.

Joel must sense your worry because he brushes his arm next to yours and looks down at you with knitted eyebrows. “S’alright. I’m gonna be right by your side every step of the way. You can do this.”

You can do this.

Looking up into his syrupy brown eyes gives you that little bit of strength to get you moving again. And when he grabs a shopping cart and beckons you to follow him, you do.

“Thanks for believing in me, Joel,” you say graciously.

“Always.”

You keep right by his side, the fluorescent lights feeling like spotlights shining down on you. It’s like every single person shifts their eyes toward you, faces distorted and smiling like they’re laughing at your fear. The music that filters out of the speakers makes your ears ring. Children run rampant around a restless mother, a tall man with a backwards baseball cap reaches across a barrel full of pineapples, and it’s as if he’s reaching for your wrist.

Without thinking, you grab on to the end of Joel’s flannel and tug it toward you, digging your fingers into the soft cotton as if it’s a safety blanket. The smell of fresh firewood and green grass envelops your senses and for the moment, everything becomes a little more still.

“You keep tuggin’ on my flannel and you’re gonna pull it right off,” Joel chuckles, giving you a small smile as he looks back at you.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, dropping your fingers as if you just upset him.

“Don’t gotta apologize. You jus’ hang on if that’s what you need right now.”

You slowly reach back up and flex your fingers around the blue material, peeking up hesitantly beneath your lashes.

“Your flannel, it smells like the forest. Reminds me of the mountains in Washington. It umm… it calms me down.”

“Well then, it’s yours, sweetheart.” Those pools of honey liquid melt you on the spot; his warm smile takes the edge of fear off your chest for just that moment. And when that whiff of autumn from his white t-shirt floats through the air, it’s like he saved you all over again.

He drops his hands from the shopping cart and starts unbuttoning his flannel, carefully shrugging it off his broad shoulders as you stare blankly up at him. And then, he’s holding out the faded blue material to you.

“No, I can’t. I’m fine. I—.” You take a step back and press a palm his way.

“Here, put it on,” he insists, stretching his arm until you have no option but to take it.

“Are you sure?” you squeak out, unsure of yourself.

“Mhm. Want you to feel safe. And if this makes you feel a little calmer, want you to wear it.”

Hesitating, you carefully pluck it from his reach and end up sliding your hand against the back of his, feeling a tingle of a spark from his worn, calloused skin.

“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper above the monotone music playing over the store speakers.

“Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.” He nods his head toward the produce section and smiles. “C’mon.”

You stay right beside him, almost flush to his hip with every wavering stride you take, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. No, he just keeps his brown eyes flickering over to you every minute that ticks by, encouraging you with that kind smile of his, telling you with the curve of his lips that you’re doing so well. You can almost hear that Southern drawl sliding off his tongue.

I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Doin’ so good. Look at you, bein’ the bravest girl I know.

Even though he’s not verbally saying those things at this second, you can tell he’s thinking it with the way his doe eyes soften every time they look your way. You can tell by how warm and kind his essence is, how his smile seems to send a flicker of sunshine your way even behind a thick wall of grey clouds.

He’s just… safe. You feel so safe around him, and that’s something you’ve never felt in your entire life. You’ve never been safe. But with him, you just might be.

The clicking of heels and the stare of curious eyes makes you physically cringe and tense your shoulders, thinking one of them will snatch you away yet again. You keep your mind busy by counting the threads of Joel’s blue flannel, training your eyes on his slicked back tan curls, meticulously staring at every single strand that’s wrapped in a silver glow. It seems to help, gives the impression that maybe you can do this. And you are.

At times when he strays too far, you reach for him unintentionally. It’s like your hand is magnetized to the feel of his cotton shirt, your fingers curling into the thick material. And again, he doesn’t seem to mind, only smiles and goes on with gathering groceries.

He doesn’t forget the caramel, doesn’t forget to grab a few bottles of vanilla creamer and extra sugar. In fact, those were the things he went for first.

He doesn’t forget things. Doesn’t forget what you wanted. And that in itself proves something. What, you’re not sure. But it proves he cares, that you do know.

You follow him to the produce section and watch him shift his focus on picking the best meat, promising to get the best steak for dinner. You haven’t had steak in years, and you don’t doubt for one second that Joel can cook a mean one.

Averting your eyes from his pensive stare and flexed jaw, your gaze wanders over to the cereal aisle, and you suddenly have the biggest craving for a box of Cocoa Pebbles.

Saliva gathers in your mouth as you think of how sugary and good and delightful a mouthful of chocolatey goodness would taste right now. Without thinking, you pull on the end of his shirt, stretching the material mindlessly as your brain transfixes on the mountain of sugar just a few feet away. It’d be so easy to go grab a box, but your feet won’t move, your words won’t form because you’re terrified to be alone for even a second in a grocery store of all places.

With one more slight tug on the edge of his t-shirt, he turns with a soft expression and questions, “What is it, sweetheart?” No anger or hint of annoyance in his Southern drawl, just pure warmth.

Your voice stays silent, your immense stare fixed on that aisle of sugar and thousands of calories you’d happily inhale. You’re sure your frail body would thank you, even if it was just junk. Joel’s eyes trace over yours, following to where yours end, and then a small chuckle leaves his lips. “You wanna go grab some?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on then. Why don’t you go pick some out?” He nods to the empty aisle, encouraging you on. But you stand there like your feet are cemented to the shiny floor, and you have no intention of moving.

Fear pulses through your blood, and anxiety is trickling down your spine. Joel takes a step forward and drawls in a low but soothing voice, “S’okay. I’ll be right here watchin’. You can do it, sweetheart.”

You look up and see warm pools of honey staring down at you and a smile that makes your knees feel weak. He’s so fucking soft with you.

Nodding, you take a step forward and then another, dragging your feet toward the aisle of boxes of sugary goodness. The further you get away from him, the more anxious you get.

What if someone takes you, gets too close to your liking, grabs your arm and drags you away? Looking back toward Joel, he gives you a small nod, telling you it’s okay. You’re okay.

Turning back to your task at hand, you start scanning the shelves, your appetite suddenly stimulated as you scavenge for what you’re looking for. Saliva is coating the back of your tongue, your stomach rumbling. There’s too many choices, too many kinds you want.

When you finally spot a box of Cocoa Pebbles, you see two more kinds you want. Lucky Charms and Cinnamon Toast Crunch sit right next to each other, calling your name for you to take them. Gritting your teeth together, you make a choice. You want all three, so you dip into your impulses and grab them all up. Hopefully Joel doesn’t mind.

A middle-aged man passes you in the row, and your muscles tighten around you, making you squish the boxes together in your arms. You focus on deep breaths, telling yourself he’s not going to hurt you. Not every man is out to get you, but it certainly feels like that now. Maybe one day you’ll be able to break the cycle of thinking that.

Quickly passing the stranger, you prance up to Joel, all three cereal boxes shoved together in your arms, just like you’re a kid in a candy store. You hear him chuckling before you lift your eyes up to him, and then he lets out a belly-aching laugh.

“Look at you with three boxes. You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t ya?”

You feel your cheeks grow warm as you set the boxes down in the cart. Nervous laughter filters out of your mouth. “I couldn’t quite decide what I wanted. I can put some back if…”

“No. I’m jus’ teasin’, sweetheart. You get as many kinds as you want. Ain’t got a limit with me.” His wide grin and crow’s feet makes a small smile tug at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks,” you say shyly. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had any cereal, or really any kind of sugar. So, this is different. I’m not used to any of this.”

Understanding hits his brown eyes and his jaw clenches as something tosses through his mind. “Well, we’re jus’ gonna have to change that, ain’t we?”

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Call me a work in progress.”

He gives you a soft smile and wraps a large hand around the cart. “You’re doin’ jus’ fine, sweetheart. Makin’ plenty of progress jus’ by steppin’ foot in this store today. Proud of you.”

He’s proud of you.

“I wouldn’t have even made it into the store if it wasn’t for you…”

He takes a long look at you and just stands there for a few seconds, searching for the right words to say. “It was all you, sweetheart. You jus’ needed a little push in the right direction and someone to be there for you.”

“Thank you for being there when I needed someone, Joel…” you whisper, your eyes a little misty with emotions running rampant through your body.

It looks like he wants to reach out, but he just grips the handle of the shopping cart tighter and tips his head. “‘Course, sweetheart. Whenever you need me.”

Whenever you need me. The words get stuck on repeat in your brain as you follow him through the rest of the grocery store. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

When you’re all checked out and the bagged groceries are sitting inside the cart, you realize Joel’s flannel is still wrapped around you. You don’t want to take it off necessarily. It smells like him, and it’s so warm and cozy and basically drenched in forest air. But, it’s not yours. You slowly start to shed the warm layer, but he stops you before you can get it past your elbows.

“Keep it, sweetheart.” He presses a palm out, pausing you in your tracks.

“Don’t you want it back?” you ask with knitted brows.

“Nah, you go ahead and keep it,” he answers. Before you can walk out the door, he turns and smiles warmly at you. “Besides, it looks better on you.” And then he continues on, like he didn’t just give you a compliment.

It looks better on you.

You hug the blue flannel back against your body, breathing in the very essence of him that seems to calm every single nerve in your body.

He gave you his flannel.

Once the groceries are all packed away in the back of the truck and both you and Joel are buckled up, he turns to you before driving out of the parking lot. “So, you wanna go get ice cream?”

“Ice cream?”

“Mhm. Ice cream,” he confirms.

“Whatever for?” you giggle.

“Don’t you like ice cream?” he inquires, flicking his brown eyes over your way.

“Well, yes. But…”

“I think brave girls deserve ice cream. Don’t you?”

You study him, looking for any sign of lies in the crow’s feet that pull tightly around the edges of his chocolate brown eyes, but you find none. He isn’t messing with you or your mind; he’s being completely sincere when he uses the word brave. “You think I’m a brave girl?”

“The bravest.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling like golden orbs under the grey skies, and it just confirms how warm he is.

You gawk at him, your lips parting as you just stare and stare at him. He thinks you’re brave, and he wants to take you for ice cream? Who even is this man?

“What?” He catches you staring and probably wonders why you’re just marveling over him. He must not realize you’re completely mesmerized by every single thing he does.

No one’s ever treated you so human. Like you’re important and matter. Joel sees you. He really sees you. Your layers and all. Just like transparent glass.

“You just surprise me, that's all,” you answer hesitantly, eyes still focused on his tanned skin and wrinkles that line like maps across his face. Something you could trace easily. “You’re not exactly what I expected, I guess.”

“And what’d you expect?” He quirks an eyebrow up as the engine hums under your seat, his eyes making their way back to your face.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d be so… kind.”

He curls his lips into a sideways smile while he taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel, eyes still focused directly on you. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

“You don’t even have to. You just are. Just like that first night I saw you sitting there across the room. Your eyes seemed so… kind.”

Everything seems to quiet down for a moment, only the sound of your heart, the slow motion of the tires hitting the wet pavement, the thick tension coursing through the air, and Joel’s clear brown eyes that are smothering your insides. They speak louder than tidal waves, those deep brown irises. And right now, they’re making your heart clench in your chest.

He clears his throat and then the tension dissipates. “So, how ‘bout that ice cream?” He wraps his large palm around the steering wheel and smiles over, making you mirror one right back to him.

“I’d love some ice cream.”

“Attagirl. Let’s go get you sugared up, then.” As he pulls out of the shopping center and drives down the smooth road, you giggle silently and watch the trickles of raindrops drip down the side of the passenger window.

“Have you ever tried espresso ice cream?” you ask, shifting your weight so you can see the question roll over his brown eyes.

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

“I think you’d like it,” you chirp.

He turns his head and looks at you, pulling his lips into a smirk. “Reckon I would. That what you recommend?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Since you like coffee so much, might be your new favorite flavor.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, looks like that’s what I’m gonna have to get. Let’s see what other recommendations you have for me.”

As you lean against the window, you place the back of your hand over your mouth to cover the blush that's building in your cheeks. Who knew this is where you’d be in the middle of Wednesday afternoon this time of year? In a truck, wearing Joel’s flannel, getting ice cream, being free of your captors… And all you can smell is the fresh woodsy scent of him surrounding you.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #healing fic

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megamindsecretlair · 15 hours ago

Text

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for.

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries?

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex?

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit.

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time?

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate.

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan.

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors.

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent.

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner.

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad.

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief.

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend?

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it.

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest.

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice.

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not?

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes.

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit.

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body.

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy.

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you.

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing.

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun.

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks.

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic?

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off.

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut.

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath.

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed.

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box.

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick.

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia.

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits.

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies.

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire.

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out.

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said.

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said.

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?”

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips.

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes.

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said.

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser?

It was impossible. Hopeless.

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn?

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release?

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said.

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body.

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro.

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again.

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question.

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said.

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man.

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute.

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall.

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell.

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them.

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands.

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal.

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it?

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent.

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas.

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside.

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with.

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face.

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring.

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered.

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

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subcultureblues · 1 day ago

Text

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 1

Steve and Eddie have been hooking up and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

———

“For the record, I still think this is dumb.” Lucas said over the wind.

“Yeah, well, you’re dumb.” Mike said, sharp witted as always.

“Got you there.” Will grinned, sidling up beside him on his bike. Mike shot him a look, vaguely betrayed. Will shrugged innocently and kept peddling.

“Alright, alright, let the court record reflect you’re both morons.” Dustin sighed, peddling between the bickerer’s bikes and cutting ahead.

All four boys skirted to a stop outside the trailer park. Dustin wiped at his forehead under his cap, the humidity creeping back up on them as soon as the air stopped it’s rushing by.

“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t picking up the phone, well, there’s probably a reason for that.” Lucas said, in that tone of his. The demeaning one.

Dustin just shook his head. Name one good reason to ignore your party? One good reason. Dustin certainly couldn’t!

He started walking his bike up through the dusty lot, leaving the rest with little choice but to march ever onward.

“Maybe he’s still sleeping.” Will said, lingering a bit behind the pack.

“At 1 in the afternoon?” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“What? He does, like,” Mike’s voice dropped to a paranoid whisper. “weed, right? Jonathan’s always sleeping in?” Mike looked behind them at Will, who shrugged.

“Eddie,” Dustin said his name rather uncharitably but he’s at his limit here, really, he is “has been dodgy weeks now. Doesn’t answer the phone, he’s never free on the weekend, never hangs out after Hellfire anymore - I’m telling you guys, somethings up.”

“Or maybe - he’s finally graduated after the third try and he’s tired of hanging around high schoolers all the time.” Lucas rolled his eyes.

Dustin shook his head at Lucas, because that can’t be it. Eddie loves them. Well, he loves Dustin and likes the rest of Hellfire’s fresh meat well enough. They bonded, alright? - after everything they went through in the Upside Down. Hell, they’re practically brothers. And it’s not just Dustin who thinks that, Eddie had said it first. Well, he called him ‘the little brother I never wanted’ but had said so sarcastically. Obviously, he’d meant the opposite.

Hard to feel wanted right now though, considering as of circa maybe a month ago, Eddie’s been MIA. He still shows up to Hellfire, obviously. But that was about it.

After stopping the clock on the apocalypse and banding together to clear Eddie’s good name, it kind of become a thing - Eddie taking them out to get slushies after a game. Calling up Eddie to tell him, not ask, but tell him they were all going to the arcade. He’d even gone to Eddie’s trailer a few times so he could help Dustin homebrew his subclass!

Steve had started tagging along too, usually. Him and Eddie even getting started to get less awkward around each other after a while. Not best friends or anything, Not like Dustin was hoping. But friendly. It had been totally awesome! And totally annoying that he had mysteriously gone to ground.

It’s possible Dustin’s being, well he doesn’t want to say needy...

It’s just, Steve started picking up extra shifts at work and spending a whole lot of time with Robin. Not that Dustin didn’t support their relationship. Steve’s been single so long, it hadn’t started verging on pathetic exactly, but it was a near thing.

It’s just hard for a guy not to feel neglected.

The four boys had almost reached the trailer when they heard it. At first Dustin dismissed it, surely the trailer next doors’ doing. But no, that music definitely coming from Eddie’s.

That in and of itself, wouldn’t be unusual. Eddie is likely the loudest human being on the planet. No, the weird part is it’s not thrashy, garbage can lid, Eddie-music but goddamn…

“Is that - “ Mike said, trailing off from sheer befuddlement.

“Culture Club.” Lucas could barely hide the cackle in his voice.

“What in the -“ Dustin muttered, throwing his bike in the grass and wandering up to the door like it was a gate to another dimension. For all he knows, it might just be.

“Eddie?” He knocked on the door. Nothing. He tried again. Obviously, someone’s home.

Dustin’s only met the man briefly but he didn’t take Munson Sr for being the bubblegum pop type.

Besides, Mr. Munson certainly wouldn’t be playing anything this loud unless those late nights at the plant had him going deaf. Dustin peeked through the window into the living room. More nothing.

“Oh man.” Lucas shoved him to press his face against the glass too. There was a slow smile creeping across his face, like he was suddenly overjoyed they had come to the trailer park after all. Lucas wasn’t gonna let their DM live this one down, not any time soon. “I thought he was supposed to be cool.”

“He is cool.” Mike said.

Dustin just sighed, threw his hands up, and started rounding the corner of the RV. Eddie’s van was here, ergo Eddie. Dustin was sure he’d be lurking around here somewhere. The rest of the boys followed, their previous hesitation now nowhere to be seen.

“Come on.” He gestured towards the window. They all leaned in and Dustin was already furiously rapping on the window. “Ed - “

Dustin’s eyes went wide. And maybe his face a bit pink.

Eddie was here alright.

He was laying in bed. Very much not alone. There were two of them, lying in bed together. They were under the covers but Eddie was sprawled out on top of someone, a thick curtain of hair hanging over both faces. Clearly, ew, kissing, based on, and Dustin might be scarred for life here, a hand gripping Eddie’s hair at the base of his neck.

As for the tunes, the obvious culprit was in the corner of the room. Eddie’s little cassette stereo.

“Eddie?” Dustin blanched before he could stop himself. And it was of course, in that exact moment Culture Club decided to betray them and the tape cut out.

Will went to shush him, grabbing his shoulder to drag him away but oh no, Eddie definitely heard something. The guy squawked and jolted up in bed, swooping the covers up to hide them both in their immodesty. Eddie’s eyes peaked over his elbow like a vampire leering over his cloak. He gaped at the window, clearly rather horrified.

The boys all threw themselves out of the frame, Dustin pressing up against the back of the trailer.

“What the fuck - “ he heard Eddie say. “What the fuck.” He sounded almost angry but closer to panicked. There was a vague whispering match, but whispering was never really Eddie’s strong suit, so they heard him just fine.

They heard something like a grown man crashing off the bed and gracelessly hit the floor.

“Relax.” Eddie said, though he did not himself sound relaxed. “No, it’s fine. We’re cool. You need to - I need you cool right now.”

“I know, I know, I know. I know! Christ, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t - I’ll deal with it. Just - “

The boys were already turning tail and scurrying back to their bikes. Gone entirely red in the face.

“I told you this was a bad idea.” Mike said, the hypocrite bastard.

“No you did not!” Dustin huffed.

The front door swung open with a bang and Eddie came spilling out towards them as he, oh gross, scrambled to get into his jeans. He was still shirtless and sweaty, hair fluffed up like an angry cat. Looking rather frantic.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He actually looked properly pissed, hands shaking with it as he did up his fly.

“We didn’t see anything.” Lucas put his hands up, but the guilty way he refused to meet Eddie’s eyes kind of gave up the game.

“Nothing!” Will squeaked, beet red and squeezing his eyes closed tight. Just in case they hadn’t made themselves look incriminating enough.

“God, of all the shit fucking timing -“ Eddie’s fist clenched up in front of him and he let out a frustrated noise, eyes darting around the trailer park. “Look I can explain. If you just, ergh, give me a minute to think of something.”

“No need! We didn’t see anything, promise.” Mike assured him again, his voice nearly steady. Good for him.

“Right so. I guess, did I mention I’ve take up recently taken up semi pro Grecian wrestling - “

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Dustin couldn’t help interrupting him. Lucas smacked him. He gave Lucas a face, which was returned, so Dustin did it again even harder. But fuck Lucas cause it may have been the right thing to say. Eddie stopped fluttering, looked right at him. Squinted, scanning his face.

��You know you can just tell us. If you did. You could have just told us in the first place.” Dustin didn’t get why Eddie wouldn’t. Did Eddie think this kind of thing was too ‘grown up’ for them. They were high school freshman for Christ sake! The only one of their little crew who didn’t have a girlfriend was Will. And I guess Steve.

Allegedly.

Of course, Dustin didn’t believe that for a second.

“I - what?” Eddie perked up.

“If you had a girlfriend. Do you? Is that - “

Eddie huffed out a hysterical laugh. It was weird. But then, Eddie wasn’t exactly the poster child for Normal. Dustin crossed his arms.

“Sure. Yeah.” He took a big breath as he looked behind him back into the trailer. “I have a... my girlfriend.”

“Sorry. For coming over.” Will said, timid like a mouse.

“It was Dustin’s idea.” He took Mike for many things but never a rat. Dustin sputtered indignantly, throwing up his hands.

“And we didn’t even see anything, really! So if you’re worried about your girlfriend’s modesty, like - we didn’t see anything, we swear! Right guys?.” Lucas insisted. Mike and Will bobbleheaded in agreement.

“What the hell are you squirts doing here, anyways?” Eddie said, scrubbing roughly at his forehead.

“I needed to get my binder.” Dustin said flatly. And maybe to remind Eddie that hey, he’s still here too. Like, right here.

“Your fucking - “ Eddie said in disbelief, and then he laughed. “Your binder.”

“You weren’t answering the phone.”

“Yeah well I was busy.” Eddie said, eyes wide and awfully antagonistic.

“Busy getting busy.”

Eddie turned his wild eyes on Lucas

“Thin ice, Sinclair. Thin fucking ice.”

That just made him chuckle again. At least he half tried to hide it behind his hand. But Lucas always was the least cowed by Eddie.

“Is this why you haven’t been hanging around anymore, like all month.”

“Jesus. Henderson, I’m sorry, ok? Hard as it is to believe, I do have a fucking life outside the game.” Yeah, Dustin thought, it was pretty hard to believe. “Look, just give me a second.”

“I’ll be quick - “ Dustin made a move to come inside.

“No.” Eddie firmly hip checked him out of the way.

Eddie slipped back into the trailer. Through the open door Dustin could just barely make out the words.

“False alarm. No - actually. I’m being serious. They think - “

They think what? Think they have a right to be here at Eddie’s trailer. Taking up space in Eddie’s life. Well they do. The party almost died saving the world side by side with Eddie, they had more right to be here than that - Dustin just grumbled. He wouldn’t call her a harlot. But only because Susie’s voice was already in the back of his head, admonishing the thought.

Eddie came back and pushed the binder hard into Dustin’s chest. He was stumbled back a step. “Now scram.” He said, not leaving room for Dustin to get a word in edgewise.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around but I… See you at Hellfire, ok?” Eddie slammed the door in their faces.

“How great could this even chick be?” Dustin frowned. Great enough to edge the party out of Eddie’s life it seems like.

The other boys just shrugged. They all picked up their bikes.

“I mean, why can’t he just like, bring her along when we hang out or something.”

“I told you, maybe he just wants to hang out with someone his own age for once.” Lucas said.

Maybe Eddie’s too cool to bring his new girlfriend around his dorky freshmen friends. Is he embarrassed to introduce them to her or something.

“Come on.” Will said. “We should get back to Mike’s.”

“Yeah. Yeah whatever.” Dustin said.

———

“So our parents said me and Mike and Lucas could go to the arcade for an hour before it gets dark.” Dustin said to Eddie as they walked through the empty school hallway after Hellfire.

“No can do, compadre. Fight the good fight against those Space Invaders in my steed, yeah?” Eddie grinned down at him over the few boxes of mini in his hands.

Dustin huffed.

“What? Too busy hanging out with your girlfriend? Dustin said petulantly. “Just bring her along if your - “

The three most senior PC’s in Hellfire skid to a stop in front of them. Dustin and Eddie nearly walked straight into the wall of them. It was almost comical the way all their heads swiveled around to oogle at him. Jeff only just managed to choke back a chortle.

Dustin was honestly offended on Eddie’s behalf. Sure, dude was a drug dealing, super duper senior nerd/freak/metalhead combo who had been semi-recently accused of ritualistic dismemberment - but certainly someone was into that.

“My -? Oh yeah my, my - that.” Eddie winced, avoiding many, many eyes.

“Oh, and you have a girlfriend now do you?” Gareth huffed a laugh, in clear disbelief. Eddie glared daggers at him.

Dustin really didn’t see why it was that hard to believe. Eddie was like, really cool. It was an indisputable fact. If all of them could see it, why couldn’t some weird, off the wall alt girl see it too.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you. Any one of you.” Pointing rapidly at all three of them, like he was warding off the words waiting right at the tip of their tongues.

“So who’s the lucky lady, Munson?” Jared said, like he had ‘held action, Vicious Mockery’ and simply couldn’t help himself. He was fighting a positively delighted smile. Eddie flushed.

“The DM giveth and the DM taketh away, and you would be very wise to remember that, Ser Elias!” Eddie said loudly, still jabbing his finger about like it made him more authoritative.

“Sorry man, just joking around.” Jeff grinned good naturedly.

“Yeah, I mean, good for you dude.” Gareth said, with a genuine smile. He tapped Eddie on the chest who childishly batted Gareth’s hand away.

“No, don’t do that. I - seriously guys, we’re not - it’s not like that. I’m not ‘dating’ anyone.” Eddie deflated, looking uncomfortable. The unflappable Eddie, looking all too flappable after all. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear and huffed. “Just someone I’ve been screwing around with alright.”

Eddie walked past them. Dustin almost felt bad for bringing it up. Almost.

He turned to Gareth.

“So you guys don’t have any idea who it is?”

The guys looked around at each other, all of them shrugging.

“Who knows.” Jared shrugged again, this one still no more helpful than the last.

“Unless,” Gareth straight up giggles, “it’s that suburban mom Eddie’s been swooning over since sophomore year.”

“Yeah right.” Jared chuckled, shoving Gareth forward. They all continued walking.

“That… doesn’t seem like his type.” Dustin said, suddenly confused and perturbed and feeling like he doesn’t know Eddie Munson at all.

“You’d be surprised.” Jared grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

They exited the school just in time to see Steve getting out of the car. Usually after Hellfire he didn’t bother. He just wanted to get the kids rounded up and out of the parking lot as quickly as he could ever really manage. Not today though. Eddie walked to Steve’s Beemer, parked in the stall next to his van.

“Munson.” He said with a small smile. He grabbed one of a few boxes of minis out of Eddie’s arms.

“Uh, Harrington.” Eddie gave a hesitant smile, before bowing his head with predictable theatrically.

“Hi, Steve.” Dustin said from behind. Steve gave him a fond nod before looking back up to the DM.

“So, uh, how was the session?” He said kind of awkwardly.

“Bordering on child abuse.” Eddie beamed.

“I got knocked out, twice.” Lucas windged, holding up two fingers.

“Whatever keeps you humble.” Steve shrugged. He turned back to Eddie. “So. Uh. Any plans for this weekend?”

Eddie blinked, then he raised his eyebrows with a haughty grin. “Dunno, had a few things in mind.” He shrugged.

“Cool. That’s cool. I did too. But uh, then my parents came home from their trip early.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “So, you know, guess there go my plans for the weekend.”

“Huh.” Eddie frowned. “Bummer.”

“Shotgun!” Dustin decided, throwing open the passenger side door.

Mike, Lucas, and Will who also couldn’t care less about their inane small talk, were already piling into Steve’s car. Steve was lingering though, helping Eddie load his stuff into the van. Dustin’s glad they’re making an effort to be friendly acquaintances, especially since he’s pretty sure it’s mostly for his own sake. But come on, it was like, 3 small boxes. They had space invasions to thwart.

And of course, Lucas was still bitching at Dustin about his failure to come through with a healing spell.

“I’m a bard, what did you want me to do?” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“You have healing word!” Lucas said, to which Dustin roll his eyes. Again.

“Which does like, 2D-nothing!” He looked out the window, wishing Steve would hurry the hell up already. Him and Eddie were still talking? What the hell did those two even have to talk about? Eddie was giving Steve an optimistic grin, but Steve was just shaking his head.

“Healing touch than!” Lucas groused.

“Well, then you should have thought about that before you went down thirty-five feet away.”

“You could have dashed.” Lucas crossed his arms.

“Ugh. That would have defeated the whole - ugh!” Dustin rolled the window down impatiently. “Steve is it cool if I eat in your car?“ Dustin hollered. He wasn’t actually gonna, he just knew how to get the man’s attention.

“Absolutely not! You know the rules.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a granola bar! Nature Valley.” Dustin shouted back.

“Don’t even think about it Henderson!” Steve said, already rounding the car. Eddie laughed brightly.

“Harrington?” He said.

“I - Yeah. Fine. Fine, alright.” Steve said to which Eddie smiled triumphantly. That better mean they were done with their little pow-wow.

Eddie climbed into his own vehicle. Steve opened the Beemer’s drivers side door but he didn’t get in yet. Instead he stood there running his hand through his hair muttering something to himself.

“See ya, nerds!” Eddie called out, lowering his own window. There was a chorus of goodbyes from the Beemer. “And Harrington -“ He started the van and a blast of guitar poured out. He smiled that Eddie smile. “You worry too much.” He said. And then he swept out of the parking lot with the sound of his obnoxious music on the wind.

“Yeah. Sure.” Steve said sarcastically. He got behind the wheel, Dustin’s threat of snacking seemingly forgotten.

“What was that about?”

Steve just waved him off and started the car.

Dustin eyed Steve skeptically. So what, were Steve and Eddie like, actually friends now or something?

Maybe he knows.

After a few minutes, Dustin finally broke and asked.

“Soooo, do you know who Eddie’s been seeing?”

“What?” Steve says, nearly swerving over the line.

“Jesus!” Lucas swore from the back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve chuckled awkwardly, eyes now, thankfully, firmly fixed on the road.

“Of course he’s not gonna tell Steve.” Mike grumbled.

Dustin stroked an imaginary beard. The fog of mystery only grew thicker and thicker.

“His secret girlfriend.” Mike said, like a little know it all.

Steve just huffed a, sure.

“I bet she’s like, some badass metal chick.” Mike said reverently, looking out the window. “She probably has like face piercings and crazy dyed hair. Or like a shaved head or something cool like that.”

Dustin sighed. She probably was badass. Way cooler than they were. Way too cool to bring around the dork squad.

“Does that sound like anyone you’ve seen around here?” Lucas said skeptically.

“Yeah, I dunno. Gareth said he was into like… suburban moms.” Dustin grimaced.

“Excuse me?” Steve sputtered.

Will made a disgusted noise.

“I know.” Dustin shivered.

“Better watch out for your mom then.” Lucas snickered. Dustin shot him a dirty look.

“Yeah, no way.” Mike shook his head. “He had to be messing with you or something. Eddie probably has like, groupies and stuff.”

“Please. That man has no game.” Lucas said. Steve snorted but played it off like a cough.

“That man runs the game.” Dustin said defensively.

“You know that’s not what that means.” Lucas said.

“The real question is, how long has this little dalliance been going on for?” Dustin pondered.

“Hey, you nosey little twerps. I really don’t think this is like, any of your business.”

“At least a few weeks right?” Lucas spoke up.

“And how do you know that?” Mike said.

“Cause that’s how long it’s been that Eddie’s been using the phrase ‘busy’ to get out of stuff. I mean he’s a jobless, drug peddling hobo, I don’t think I’ve seen Eddie be busy like, ever.” Lucas said, scratching his chin. “Until a few weeks ago that is.”

Dustin grinned widely. “It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

“It’s invasive is what it is.” Steve grumbled. “Also, he’s not a hobo. He has a house.”

“Well, I guess, technically it’s a trailer.” Will said, rather pedantically.

“Well, it’s got four walls. And he lives inside them. Ergo…”

“He’s also been a lot nicer.” Will said thoughtfully.

“Huh?” Dustin and Steve said, and looked at him in unison.

“The last couple weeks, don’t you think?” Will said, smiling faintly. “He’s been nicer than usual. Or happier. I guess.”

“I guess.” Dustin said.

“You think?” Steve said.

“Okay,” Dustin should have a houndstooth cap and a pipe. “We have our timeline. Now, we need to root out suspects.”

“Alright, this, whatever this is, stops here. You nosey little twerps need to mind your own business.”

“But - “

“I don’t want to hear it. No buts.”

And that was the end of that. For now at least.

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369

(Stayed tuned for emotional immaturity! Reply to be added to the tag list!)

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Dustin Henderson

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knottedhearts · 2 days ago

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Argument: M.S

Summary: You and Matt are arguing because he's being awfully loud, and you're on your period.

The evening had started off fine. You’d both been sitting in the living room, enjoying a quiet night in. But that peace quickly shattered as Matt’s loud voice carried through the room like a sledgehammer. He’d been talking non-stop about some random topic, laughing at his own jokes and rambling without noticing how overwhelming it was. You were curled up on the couch, trying to get comfortable despite the aching cramps that came with your period. You wanted nothing more than to curl up and zone out to a movie or even just close your eyes for a few minutes of silence.

But Matt’s energy was impossible to ignore. His laughter echoed off the walls, and his voice cut through the air with each sentence. It didn’t matter how much you tried to focus on the TV screen or ignore the noise—it felt like his presence was all-consuming, drowning you in sound.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, your lower back aching, your abdomen throbbing. Every movement made the cramps feel worse, and the constant noise made it harder to focus on anything but the pain.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned to him, your voice tight with frustration. "Matt, can you keep it down?"

Matt didn’t seem to hear you at first, his energy undeterred by your quiet request. He was too caught up in his own story, too wrapped up in whatever had him so animated. "No, seriously, man, I’m telling you," he laughed loudly, his voice rising as he explained some ridiculous anecdote.

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your cool. "Matt," you said again, this time louder, but with an edge to it. "I’m not feeling good. I’m on my period, and I have cramps. Can you just… lower your voice a little?"

Matt paused mid-sentence, finally catching your tone, but he didn’t seem to understand the seriousness of it. He shrugged, not noticing how you were holding your stomach, trying to soothe the pain. "What’s the big deal? I’m just talking."

You stared at him, the irritation bubbling up like a volcano. "The big deal, Matt, is that I’m literally cramping in pain, and you’re yelling like you’re hosting a damn podcast! Can you show a little consideration?"

He frowned, clearly taken aback. "It’s not like I’m yelling at you. I’m just talking loud because that’s how I talk, alright? You’re the one overreacting."

You could feel the frustration rising, the way the tension in your body was making everything worse. It was hard enough dealing with your physical pain, but now Matt was being dismissive of your need for quiet.

"Overreacting?" you scoffed, shaking your head. "Matt, I’m literally sitting here in pain, trying to get through this, and all you can do is talk at full volume like it’s a damn comedy show. It’s not about how you talk—it's about you being completely unaware of how you're affecting everyone else in the room!"

Matt’s expression turned defensive, his eyes narrowing. "You seriously want me to apologize for how I talk?" His tone was rising now, getting sharp. "I’m not gonna start whispering just because you’re uncomfortable. That’s not my fault."

You felt your jaw tighten, your hands balling into fists. "It’s not about whispering, Matt! It’s about being mindful of the people around you! You never think about how your loud, obnoxious voice affects others. It’s like you don’t even care!"

Matt didn’t back down. "I care! I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just being me, alright?"

"Being you?" You could feel your patience snapping, the frustration boiling over. "Being you isn’t the problem, Matt. The problem is that you can’t be bothered to understand that people need quiet sometimes, and right now, I need some damn quiet!"

The words hit him harder than you expected. He took a step back, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You think I don’t understand? You think I don’t know you’re having a rough time? But that doesn’t mean I have to change everything about me just to suit you!"

You stood up then, pacing for a moment, the cramps flaring up as you moved, but the anger took over. "I’m not asking you to change yourself, Matt, I’m asking you to be aware of other people’s needs for once. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yeah, it’s too much!" Matt shot back, his voice louder than ever. "I’m not gonna sit here and apologize for talking! Just because you’re dealing with something doesn’t mean I have to tiptoe around you like you’re fragile!"

You felt the tension in the room growing thicker, your chest tightening with frustration. "I’m not fragile, Matt," you said, your voice wavering with a mix of anger and exhaustion. "I just need some goddamn peace. Can you give me that?"

But Matt wasn’t backing down. His voice was cold now, defensive, as though he couldn’t understand why this was such a big deal. "You think I’m just gonna stop being myself because you’re having a bad day? That’s not how it works."

The words felt like a slap, and you finally snapped. "You know what, Matt? Maybe you should just leave me the hell alone!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the weight of the argument crashing down on you.

Matt’s face reddened with anger, his hands clenched into fists. "Fine! You want me to leave you alone? Maybe you should just deal with it yourself, then!"

His words stung, and before you could even react, you spun on your heel and started walking away. "Where are you going?" Matt called after you, but you didn’t stop, walking straight toward the door.

You grabbed your jacket, throwing it on as you walked out of the room, trying to push away the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm you. "I need space," you muttered under your breath. You didn’t even know where you were going at first, just wanting to escape, to get away from the noise and the tension.

"Wait," Matt said, his voice softer now, but you didn’t turn around. "I didn’t mean it like that," he called after you, but you kept walking, your heart pounding in your chest.

You didn’t want to hear apologies right then, not after everything that had been said. You just needed a moment alone, away from the noise, away from the confrontation. You didn’t know when or how the two of you would work through this, but right now, all you could focus on was finding some peace.

You didn't know how long you'd need, but you were sure of one thing—until Matt could truly understand the importance of being considerate, the fighting, the noise, and the misunderstandings weren’t going to stop.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #pov #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt stuniolo fanfic #argument

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cursedhaglette · 1 day ago

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Letters We Should've Sent

Eight years pass and they both keep track of it, words they didn't share but should have. Words that might have made all the difference.

(very minor DAV spoilers sprinkled throughout)

Rating: T? If that? Word Count: 4,880

[ao3 link]

Preview

Solas,

I am on my way to Orlais, and the sunrise is clearing the fog from a meadow where I’ve made camp, and I am thinking of you. Thinking of moments like this from years past, where we would rise before the others and walk to the edge of our campsite for a few stolen moments alone at dawn. I cannot help but wonder if you might think of them too, wherever you are now. Is it warm there? Are you in a city? The mountains?

To have known it all, or what felt like it all, for so long, and now to have nothing is a wound I fear will never heal. How am I supposed to look at these places we once walked together the same way? How am I supposed to continue on like this - like everything is just how it was?

You are gone and I am…this. A woman broken by grief and anger and duty. Someone I no longer like or recognize and I’m sure you wouldn’t either.

All anyone sees anymore is The Inquisitor. Even with the inquisition disbanded.

I am no longer a woman or an elf or a person at all. I haven’t been in so long. I have become something other, entirely not my own and yet not belonging to anyone in particular either. I am not a figurehead of the chantry or a single nation, I do not belong to the humans or the elves or anyone else. It feels as though I have given away a small piece of myself to everyone that’s ever asked and now I am hollowed out, staring at a sunrise and wishing I had left it all behind to end the world with you.

I can’t keep myself from writing letters, filling pages and pages with thoughts I wish I were mindlessly sharing with you, knowing I’ll never send them.

I don’t even know if I ought to write vhenan on these letters anymore. To write my love on paper feels foolish, even if you’ll never see it. But then you know - you have to know. I will never love another as I loved you. I will never see another sunrise and think of anything but the mornings where you told me you loved me and always would.

Were you the god of lies even then?

-Morinne

#hagfics #solavallen #solavellan hell #solavellan fic #solas x female lavellan #solas x inquisitor #solas dragon age #dragon age #dragon age fic #dragon age fanfiction #veilguard spoilers #if you squint #morinne

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silent-stories · 2 days ago

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𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: little bit of angst (fluff is always there, I don't even write it in the tw anymore)

Series masterlist

3 years earlier

Your apartment felt suffocating. You stood by the kitchen counter, staring at the sink, trying to breathe through the frustration that had been building for probably months. Jason was pacing in the living room, the sound of his feet on the hardwood floor sharp against the silence.

"Why is this always so difficult with you?" His voice was rising, the anger behind it unmistakable. "I try to talk to you, to explain how I feel, but it’s like I’m speaking to a wall. You don’t listen."

You turned, your patience wearing thin. "I am listening, Jason. But you can’t just lash out every time things don’t go your way. It doesn’t work like that."

Jason’s face twisted in disbelief. "You think I’m the one causing problems? You think I’m just making this up?" He threw his hands up, exasperated. "You don’t even seem to care when something’s wrong. You shut down every time I try to talk to you about it!"

You let out a slow breath, trying to hold on to the last shreds of calm you had left. "That’s not true. I care. But you’re trying to control everything. You are trying to control me, and it’s exhausting. Every time we have a disagreement, you make it feel like it’s my fault, like I’m the one who’s doing everything wrong."

Jason scoffed, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, so now I’m controlling? That’s rich. I try to make things work, I try to talk to you, but all you do is shut me out."

"Don’t act like this is just about us not communicating," you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration. "It’s not just one thing, Jason. It’s everything. The way you treat me like I’m supposed to be available on your terms, the way you talk down to me like I’m incapable of making my own decisions. You’re always making everything about you and your needs, but you never ask how I feel about anything."

Jason’s eyes darkened, but you saw something else there too—fear. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face what he was losing, but you had already made up your mind. "You’re overreacting," he muttered, taking a step toward you, but you didn’t back away.

"No, Jason. I’m done," you said, your voice more firm than you felt. "This isn’t working anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to keep doing this."

Jason froze, his brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? You don’t mean that. I love you. I need you."

Your chest tightened at the words,. "We shouldn't feel the love so painfully. I shouldn’t. You don’t love me, Jason. This isn’t love," you said. "Love isn’t trying to control someone, love isn’t belittling them every chance you get, love isn’t making them feel small. You don’t get to hide behind 'I love you' and make it okay."

His face twisted in disbelief, like he was trying to comprehend what you were saying. "You’re throwing all of that away? After everything?"

You shook your head slowly, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to break free. But you didn’t let them. Not now. "I’m choosing myself, Jason. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and thinking it’s okay. I’m done with this and I am truly sorry things didn't go in a different way, trust me."

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at you like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes flicked to the door and back to you, his lips parted like he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come.

"Just go," you said, your voice barely a whisper but stronger than it had been in weeks. "Please. I need you to leave."

Jason hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides. "You’re making a huge mistake," he muttered, his voice low and strained. "You can’t just throw this all away. You’ll regret it."

You shook your head. "No. I won’t. I’m not doing this anymore."

He stood there for a long moment, and then, with a final glance at you, he turned toward the door. It clicked open, and then shut.

The sound echoed in the silence of your apartment, and for a moment, you just stood there, your back pressed against the door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You told yourself you had made the right decision, that you had done what was best for you. And yet, as the seconds ticked by, something inside you twisted.

The tears came in slow waves at first, and then, like a dam breaking, they poured out. You didn’t try to stop them. You didn’t even know how to. You sank to the floor, knees pulled to your chest, burying your face in your arms as the sobs wracked your body.

You had told him to leave. You had closed the door on him. You had made the decision to walk away from a relationship that has never been healthy.

And still, your heart ached like it had been ripped out of your chest. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you were done, that you were stronger than this, your heart betrayed you. You had loved him. You loved him.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself that the way he treated you—his lack of respect, his jealousy, his need to control everything—had been enough to make you forget the love you once shared, your heart couldn’t let go.

You loved him. Even if you didn't want to.

One week after he stepped out of your house, you got the news that he left the city to open his shop somewhere else. And you haven't heard from him since.

Now

You were still staring out the window, frozen, as the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

Jason’s Ink Studio.

The name was loud and clear in your mind, a flashback to everything you had worked so hard to leave behind. You hadn’t expected this, not today, not now. You never thought he could get back in town, and yet, here he was.

Your gaze fixed on him before your mind could even catch up with the shock in your chest. He was standing on the other side of the road, talking to someone, his face in profile as he lifted a package—large, wrapped in brown paper.

His hair, lighter now than it had been back then, was short but messy, like he’d run his fingers through the light brown locks and forgotten to smooth it down. The buzz cut he once wore was gone, replaced with something more grown-up, but still familiar.

He was wearing a simple black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the tattoos that snake around his forearms, ink you remember well. His skin is still a bit tanned, like it always was.

His eyes, those blue-grey eyes that had always caught the light in that almost magnetic way, were hidden from now, but you knew they were shining under the morning light.

You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t help it. As he turned, walking toward the door, his eyes flicked up, right toward the window where you were standing. For a split second, you could have sworn his gaze landed on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t move.

You weren’t sure if he’d actually seen you, or if you were just imagining it. But in that moment, everything around you seemed to stop. You held your breath. You didn’t want to react. You didn’t want to acknowledge him, not in this place, not now. You were happy with Noah. You didn't want to see him everyday in front of your workplace.

For a moment you both stood there, and then, just like that, he disappeared through the door of his own shop.

You exhaled slowly, the air feeling thick in your lungs. Your palms were suddenly clammy, and you found yourself gripping the counter for stability. He was here. Of course he was. Back there like nothing had changed. But so much had changed. You had changed.

You stared at the door he had just walked through, a sense of unease twisting in your stomach, still trying to wrap your head around the sight of Jason standing outside. It had been years, but seeing him again—especially in front of your café—stirred up a mess of old memories. Why the hell was he back?

Noah’s voice suddenly cut through your thoughts. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. "Yeah. I'm fine," you muttered, brushing off the question. But before you could add anything else, Grace, leaning over the counter, caught sight of what was going on on the other side of the window.

"Oh well—look who’s back."

You stiffened. Noah looked over, clearly confused. “Who?”

You let out a sharp exhale. “You remember when I told you about my ex?”

Noah raised an eyebrow. "The tattoo artist who treated you like shit and left the town to chase a bigger paycheck?"

“Yeah.”

Grace, without missing a beat, pointed at the window. “Him. Right there.”

Noah turned, following her finger, and the look on his face shifted. His eyes narrowed, “Of course he’s back.” He muttered.

You felt your stomach tighten. “I don't know why he's here. But I don't fucking want him here. Not in front of my café."

Grace, clearly enjoying the situation a bit too much, leaned in with a smirk. “I wonder if he already knows about your ‘charming’ new... rockstar boyfriend with pink nailpolish here?”

Noah shifted on his feet, his expression tightening ever so slightly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Grace shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if the guy’s gonna get jealous seeing you’ve moved on... to someone else.”

You felt the heat rise to your face, and before you could respond, Noah cleared his throat. His voice, though calm, had an edge to it. “Yeah, well, that’s none of his business.”

The casualness of his tone didn’t escape you, but there was something else—something in the way he said it that made you wonder if he was a little too quick to defend you. Or maybe he was just annoyed by the whole situation, too.

Grace watched the two of you, clearly entertained. "Oh, I get it now. High-school reunion vibes, huh? A bit embarassing and awkward?"

You shot her a glare. "Don’t even joke about that."

Noah’s posture had shifted. He was still looking at the window, but the way he stood now had more tension in it. “If he thinks he can just show up and start making trouble, I’ll deal with it,” he said, the words sounding like more of a promise than a suggestion.

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden protective tone in his voice. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—but why was he getting so worked up?

“I don’t need you to deal with it,” you said quickly. “I can handle it myself, don't worry.”

Grace leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure you can. But... still, if he tries anything, I’m pretty sure he’ll wish he hadn’t.” She finished the sentence looking at Noah.

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the tension building between you and Noah. You could feel his eyes on you, but you weren’t sure if it was out of concern or something else entirely. Was he already jealous? Without even seeing Jason yet?

“He’s not gonna try anything,” you said, trying to reassure both you and Noah. “I’m done with him. For good. It's almost been four fucking years. I moved on. He probably did that too. Maybe he moved back with... I don't know, his wife? Who knows.”

Noah just nodded, staying silent. You knew his mind was full of thoughts but that wasn't the right moment to talk about them.

You stared at the window again, watching your ex as he spoke to someone outside, completely unaware of the tension building inside the café. The knot in your stomach only tightened.

You kept working after Noah left to work on something with the band.

The café was busy and you used that as a distraction from the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You couldn’t shake the image of Jason standing outside.

You busied yourself behind the counter as you made drinks and refilled pastries, trying not to look up at the window every few minutes. But every time the door opened, your heart jumped, and you couldn’t help but glance over.

A couple walked in, laughing together. The man’s grin reminded you too much of Jason’s—slightly crooked, genuine, and a little too familiar. For a split second, your heart skipped, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. But as they made their way to the counter, you saw it wasn’t him. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Can I help you?" you asked, your voice a little shaky as you forced a smile.

The man ordered a cappuccino, and you moved through the motions, trying to push the thought of Jason from your mind. But every time the door opened, you couldn’t stop your heart from skipping. You looked, always half-expecting him to walk through.

The bell above the door chimed again.

The man entering had brown short hair, his face half-obscured by the collar of his jacket, but for a moment, your mind screamed, It’s him.

You froze, watching as he approached the counter, but when he turned his face toward you, your stomach sank. It wasn’t Jason. Just another stranger.

You forced yourself to breathe, to smile. To get it together. You couldn’t keep reacting like this.

Minutes passed. Then another hour. The tension in your chest never quite eased, but you managed to focus on the customers, the tasks at hand, your routine.

Jason wasn’t coming in. He couldn’t be.

And as the day wore on, and the sun began to set, you didn’t see him again, not even outside the window.

You kept working, moving through the motions. But the truth was, the sense of unease wouldn’t leave. Every time you heard the door, part of you braced for the possibility that it was him. The man who had once been everything, but now felt like a stranger.

But he didn’t come. Not today.

Noah was sprawled on the couch in the band's living room, casually scrolling through his phone while Ruffilo sat across from him. The quiet hum of the house felt comfortable, but Noah’s mind was clearly elsewhere.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Noah set his phone down with a frustrated sigh.

“What's wrong, man?” Nick asked casually.

Noah ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just... Y/N’s ex is back in town,” he said, his tone less than enthusiastic. “And he opened up a tattoo shop right across from her café.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait, that guy? The tattoo artist?"

“Yeah,” Noah confirmed, leaning back against the couch. “Jason. He’s been gone for a while, but now he’s back. And of course, right across from where Y/n works.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "That’s... uh, that's gotta be awkward."

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, it’s not great. And I can’t help but feel like something’s going to happen. It just doesn’t feel good."

Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I get it, man. But, you don’t have to worry about that. Y/N’s with you now, and she’s moved on. She’s not gonna let some guy from her past mess things up.”

Noah hesitated. "I know. But... I don’t know, man. I can’t shake this feeling. Ever since I got involved with Y/N I’ve been scared of losing her. I’ve always been scared of it, after... well, after everything that happened with Hannah." He took a deep breath and looked at Nick, his expression more vulnerable than usual. “But now... with Jason back in the picture, I feel it more than ever. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, and it scares the shit out of me.”

Nick studied him for a moment, then leaned back into his seat, shaking his head slightly. "You’re doing it again," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You’re thinking about things that haven’t even happened yet. I get that you're worried, but listen, you don’t have to keep carrying that fear around."

"I know I sound like a broken record,” Noah said, rubbing his face with his hands. "I just... I love her, man. I don’t want anything to mess that up."

Nick’s tone softened. “I get it. I do. But you don’t have to be scared of losing her. You’ve got a solid thing going. Y/N chose you. And she’s with you now. Jason’s part of her past, and that’s where he’s gonna stay. She’s moved on."

Noah let out a long breath. "I know. But it’s still hard not to worry, you know?"

Nick gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I get it. But trust me, man. You’re enough. You don’t have to live in fear of something that might never even happen. You’re already doing everything right."

Noah nodded slowly. “Thanks, man. I needed that.” He stood up, stretching. “I should go pick up Luna. She’s probably starving by now.”

Nick chuckled, standing up with him. "Good idea. But hey, remember, if you need to talk, you know where I am."

Noah smiled. "Appreciate it."

With a final wave, Noah walked out the door.

Things would work out, he hoped. But he still couldn’t shake the weight of his own worries.

He didn't want to get hurt again.

When Noah stepped into the daycare, his eyes quickly found Luna sitting at a small table in the corner, her little brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on something with a pile of crayons scattered in front of her. She caught sight of him immediately and waved enthusiastically.

"Daddy!" she squealed, bouncing out of her seat.

Noah grinned, walking over to scoop her up in his arms. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Ready to go home?"

Luna nodded excitedly, but before Noah could move, Ms. Harper, one of the teachers, approached with a warm smile.

"Noah, do you have a second?" she asked. "We had a little project today, and I wanted to show you something."

Noah glanced at Luna, who ran off to rejoin a friend in a nearby play area.

"Of course," he replied, following Ms. Harper to the small corner of the room as she handed Noah a folded piece of paper.

"We had the kids draw pictures of their families,” she explained as Noah opened the paper carefully. “Luna was really proud of hers, and we wanted to make sure you saw it."

The paper was an explosion of color, with vibrant swirls of pink, blue, yellow, and green. In the sky, there was not a sun (like it usually was in kids' drawings) but a moon.

The clouds were big and puffy and a small house stood in the middle of the page.

Noah’s heart warmed as he looked at the three main figures in the foreground. One was small, the other two larger. The shapes were simple—a circle for each head, a few lines for arms and legs, but they were immediately recognizable. A man, a woman, and a smaller figure.

"That’s us, isn’t it?" Noah asked, looking up from the drawing to meet Ms. Harper’s eyes. His voice was soft, filled with warmth.

The teacher smiled and nodded. "Yep, Luna said it was ‘Daddy and Y/N.’ She was so proud of it."

Noah’s heart swelled as he looked back down at the drawing. The way Luna included you made him smile. "I love it," he murmured.

As he admired the picture, his eyes wandered to the background. He noticed several small shapes scattered on the horizon, almost like trees but not quite. They looked out of place compared to the other elements in the drawing, and his curiosity piqued.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing at the figures.

Ms. Harper chuckled softly. “She said those are her uncles,” she explained.

Noah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a laugh escaping him. "Her uncles?"

"Yes," she replied, grinning. "She said they’re the uncles who love her."

Noah couldn’t help but laugh too, a warm, genuine smile spreading across his face. "Well, I'll tell them Luna included them in the family," he said, shaking his head with amusement. "This is perfect."

Luna, who had been playing with her friend, returned to him just as he was carefully folding the drawing.

"Dad" she asked eagerly, "did you see my picture? What do you think?"

Noah beamed down at her. "I love it, Luna. I think it’s the best drawing ever." He picked her up with one arm and kissed the top of her head. "You’ve made me so happy with this."

Luna’s face lit up, her grin stretching wide across her face. She hugged him tightly, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck. "I’m glad you like it!"

The teacher gave them one last smile before stepping away.

"Alright, Lu," Noah said, shifting Luna slightly in his arms, "let’s go home."

The soft glow from the TV illuminated the dim room as you and Noah lay on his bed, wrapped up in the warmth of his blankets as Luna was already sleeping in her bedroom.

The gentle hum of some anime playing in the background was more of a comfort than entertainment at this point. You were curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest, the familiar weight of his arm draped over you. His hand idly brushed through your hair as you watched the fight happening on the screen, though you noticed he wasn’t quite as engaged as usual.

You shifted slightly, glancing up at him. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, unfocused, almost as if his mind had wandered far away from the bright colors on the TV. You could feel the subtle tension in his muscles, the quiet distance that had come over him.

"Hey," you murmured, your voice soft but steady. "Mrs. Linn asked to come see her sometime, yesterday. We talked a bit when I was about to get into my car to go back home. I forgot to tell you. She seemed such a sweet lady." You smiled, hoping to bring his attention back to the moment, but his gaze didn’t move from the ceiling.

Noah’s lips tugged up slightly, but it was more of a reflex than a genuine response. "Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her," he said absently. “Maybe we could all go sometime, say hi." His tone didn’t carry the usual warmth, though. His mind was still clearly elsewhere.

You frowned, now fully aware of the shift in his mood. You grabbed the remote and paused the anime, the room suddenly feeling quieter, even more intimate with the absence of noise.

"Is it about Jason?" you asked softly, almost afraid of what his reaction might be.

Noah didn’t look at you, but his head gave the smallest nod, confirming what you already suspected. His jaw tightened, and you could tell his thoughts were running in circles, probably replaying some old memories.

You let out a quiet sigh, lifting your hand to gently trace his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. "You don’t have to worry, Noah," you said. "I love you. I love Luna. I love the life we’re building together. He’s a ghost from the past, and that’s all he’s ever going to be now." You pressed a soft kiss to his naked chest, hoping the words would reach him, would soothe all his worries.

For a long moment, Noah didn’t respond, but then he shifted, turning to face you. His eyes were soft but looked tired. "I know," he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "It’s just... when I realized he was back earlier, I don’t know... it just stirred up a lot of shit that is still there. You are important to me. I don't wanna lose you."

You smiled gently, sliding your hand to his face and cupping it tenderly, your fingers brushing his stubbled cheek. "You’re allowed to feel however you feel. And if you wanna talk about anything, I'm here." you whispered. "But don't think I'm gonna leave you. I’m right here. I'll be here until the day you'll tell me to go away." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

And as if in response, his lips curved into a smile, a soft, real smile. You moved away slightly, your gaze meeting his.

"There it is," you teased, pressing more kisses to his face, his cheeks, his nose. His eyes closed, and he chuckled, the sound warm and genuine.

"Finally," you grinned. "I didn’t hear you laugh since this morning. I was starting to worry."

Noah’s laughter filled the quiet space between you two, and you thought, in that moment, that everything would be okay.

Even if Jason was back in town, he was still part of your past and that's where he was supposed to stay.

🍪 a cookie for you if you caught the little bmth reference

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