#I got a tad carried away with this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youcancallmeelle · 6 months

Text

She’s got a boyfriend anyway…

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Word count: 7K

Warnings: Semi public sex, Missionary, Cowgirl, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Sneaking around, Secret relationship, Brief David mention, Ellie being a menance, Tommy trying to play matchmaker.

Summary: Tommy has been trying to set Joel up for AGES, he’s got other interests.

You and Joel have secretly been seeing each other.

A03

Read below…

Life in Jackson is promising, nearly a year and half here and Joel feels comfortable, no longer itching for a way out of civilisation because he’s just not used to that no more. Ellie is settled too - finally. She’s attending school three days a week, enjoying the new responsibilities that come with being sixteen and the tad bit of freedom it brings. She helps out at the stables, in the kitchen too but she’s not a fan. She likes being in the library most, checking in and out books, tidying shelves, using her art to create eye catching displays aimed at the younger generation of Jackson.

Joel is proud, his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest all the time. Ellie is still full of wit and charisma that comes out in curses and daft puns that make Joel roll his eyes and get her in a headlock until she’s laughing so hard she’s pink in the face.

There’s times when she skips school completely if a male teacher has subbed in, she flinches away if someone comes too close and sometimes if it’s stew night at dinner, she’ll stare blankly into her bowl at the chunks of meat and see a severed ear, she’ll try to swallow but gag instead. These are nights Joel gives her his bread and Tommy will too, then he’ll make her a fruit salad when they get home with a little double cream poured over it.

The nightmares are persistent on these bad days where triggers occur, he finds Ellie in bed screaming and thrashing multiple times a week. She’ll sob and cry hoarsely as he holds her, hushing her gently and resting his cheek on her head. Most of the time she’ll fall back asleep with him beside her, curled into him like she did back at Silver Lake when death was close.

But mostly, everything’s okay.

Joel had been with Tommy every single day this week so far and it was Thursday evening, they’d been focusing on fixing up the bathroom in a house way further down from his, they were getting it ready for a family that had expanded to move in. The floor was rotten and the pipes wrecked, neither of them were particularly fond of plumbing but they sorted it between them. There was still the kitchen to do but that was a job for tomorrow and probably Saturday too but not Sunday, that was his day with Ellie.

Sunday’s were for late breakfasts of bacon and pancakes - before and after the world ended. The only thing that changed was the kid for Joel, he used to serve Sarah indulgent breakfasts on a Sunday and they’d do something together and the tradition was carried on with Ellie and Sarah remained tucked in his heart.

Tired and stiff from working hunched over all day, Joel was enjoying a quiet drink with Tommy. They were tucked away on a small table with two stools, Joel would have preferred something with a back but beggars can’t be choosers; he was grateful for the cold glass of bourbon nearly empty in front of him and the sound of Dire Straits playing over the old speakers.

As always, Tommy is picking and prying into his lack of a love life. Since he’s noticed his older brother being more settled within the community, he’d been trying his hardest to set him up with various women and Tommy Miller was nothing if not persistent.

At this point in the day, Tommy’s voice is almost just white noise.

“Cath is nice.” Tommy pointed out, Joel snorts.

“She’s also gay, Tommy.”

“Oh shit, really? I didn’t know.”

“Clearly. Can we please stop talking about this? It’s the same thing every fuckin’ time I come drinking with you.” Joel begs, Tommy sighs heavily but drops it for now.

Joel takes in the scenery as he sits there, grateful for the moments silence from Tommy. His eyes stray to the left of the table and he listens as you speak to Denton, an older gentleman in his late sixties with a love of horses. He’s quizzing you about the new mare in the stables, he hears you mention checking on her again after your shift because she’s been particularly temperamental since she was brought in from outside but you’ve developed a nice bond with her, she’s slowly becoming more trusting.

It occurs to Joel that everyone likes you - literally everyone, even Ellie and she was a tough nut to crack. You’re sweet, soft spoken yet confident. You’re always helping out where you can; on patrols, stable duty, in the communal garden, sometimes at the school and also here at the bar when Darius needs his shift covered.

You find good things on patrol and give them to Joel or Ellie before taking the rest for the community, so they get first pick of everything.

You’re just the sweetest thing.

Tommy sees you and beckons you with a friendly wave, you mutter a goodbye to Denton and pat his hand.

“Hey.” You hear your name called over the music and you turn as Tommy Miller grabs your attention as you scoop up two glasses and an empty bowl that once held nuts and dried berries from the table two away from his and Joel’s.

“Yes, Miller?” You patter over with your hands occupied, you sneak a look at his older sibling, sparing him a wink as a greeting, he smirks softly back.

“Has Darius got an other fuckin’ music or are we strictly limited to the sounds of 1985 tonight?” He questions and you laugh, shaking your head.

“You don’t like Dire Straits?”

“He doesn’t appreciate good music.” Joel interjects, shaking his head at Tommy.

“I do - but other music. Eminem or even fuckin’ Britney! Anything but this shit.” Tommy groans, tossing his head back.

“Keep talking smack about Dire Straits, Miller - and I’ll snitch to your wife about the fact you’ve switched patrols with Mark twice this week because you were too hungover to go.” You smile sweetly at Tommy, tilting your head.

“Snitches get stitches.” Tommy remarks playfully, not an ounce of malice in his dark brown eyes and your eyebrows rise, you beam back.

“That right? Well, troublesome men get barred for life.”

“Oooooh.” Joel chimes in, looking amusedly between you and his younger brother.

��Touché.” Tommy quips, folding his arms.

“Tell you what, next time I’m in, I’ll have a rummage out back and see if I can find you some Britney. Bless you.” You pinch his cheek as you walk past and he swats your hand, rubbing the spot while Joel laughs.

“You’re pushing your luck giving her lip, I’m not sure if you’re aware but this is the only operational bar in Wyoming.”

“Tell me about it.” He grumbles back, Joel shakes his head once more as the door behind Tommy on the back wall opens.

“Joeeeeeel?!” He hears yelled from close by, he looks up and sees Ellie dragging her sneakers across the floor, scouring the bar for him with her honey coloured eyes eagerly. She spots him within seconds, beaming and practically skipping over to him and Tommy in the corner. “There you are, I looked fucking everywhere for you.” She groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “I wanna go out, I’m bored shitless at home. There’s nothing for me to do and yes - I’ve done my school work.” She quickly adds.

“You done those quadratic equation questions we were going over last night?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Yep. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, though I did ask my teacher because I’m pretty sure you were figuring them out wrong. You were, by the way.” Joel puffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. Ellie spins to Tommy, the soles of her shoes squeaking. “Can I try that?” She’s laser focused on the bourbon swimming between globes of ice in Tommy’s glass.

“What have I said the last twenty times you’ve asked, El?” Tommy’s dark brows are high on his forehead, his mouth is twisted with hidden laughter. Ellie rolls her eyes with annoyance, sloping over to Joel now.

“No.” She huffs, swinging her lanky arms around Joel. She hums and rubs her face into his shoulder bone, resting there for a second before her attentions shifts comically fast. There’s a warmth that spreads through Joel every single time she does this, she’s so casual about it and he’s drawn the conclusion that it’s a teenage thing because Sarah was the same. There’s a sadness that blossoms too, a darkness that twists and anchors in his chest as he thinks of her and who she’d be now. He can’t dwell for too long, not now - he did that for too long.

At one dark point in time, human connection was not key to survival, hence why he always kept Tess at arms length and then referred to Ellie as cargo until one snowy day it became apparent she was no longer cargo when she was frenzied and panting in his arms, splattered with the blood of a predator and gasping like she was taking her last breath. The sound haunted him for a long time, all memories of Sarah hitting him like a freight train. He had to protect Ellie, the minute he drew her in - oh baby girl - and held her tightly, wrapped in his coat and clinging to him just as hard.

Ellie’s his kid now. She’s his. He’s hers. They’re a family. Ellie Williams Miller - that’s how she’s known now. It’s scrawled on her school books. The love he feels for this human tornado in sneakers is unmatched, the one thing he’s ever been truly good at has been restored and it’s a role he knows well; being a father.

Sure, this teenager that he’s raising is the furthest from bubblegum pink and Avril Lavigne she could be, she’s particularly jagged around the edges and does have the temperament of an unsocialised cat that will bite if you get too close.

He looks down at her, rubbing into him like she’s trying to get his smell on her because it’s comforting and she feels safe and feels his heart ready to burst.

Of course the sweet moment of affection is shattered when Ellie yawns directly into his fucking ear because why wouldn’t she?

He grunts when she bears most of her weight on his aching shoulders, leaning easily into him and twisting her small fingers into his flannel.

“So? Can I go or not?” She presses.

“Go where?” He prompts, raising his eyebrow.

“Toni’s from school. Her cat had kittens a few weeks ago and they’re starting to play. Five of them, Joel! That’s a lotta kittens!” Ellie enunciates, brown eyes wide and Joel can’t help the smile that graces his otherwise tired face.

“You mean a litter?” He corrects and Ellie pauses, frowning.

“Huh?”

“A bunch of kittens is a litter, Ellie.” He informs her and she somehow manages to frown even more, she makes a noise like she’s computing the new information.

“Yeah, whatever.” She mumbles, Tommy snorts in amusement. “So I can go see them?” She presses, shifting her weight again and Joel groans louder now, unhooking her arms from his shoulders with a quiet ‘don’t do that, baby’ that’s full of affection.

“Yes but you’re back at nine latest, okay? Nine. I’ll be waiting for you, the minute those street lamps turn on, you’re home.” Joel says, Ellie’s mouthing along to his instructions that he’s been laying out since Summer began and the evenings stretched longer. “Be good.” He speaks more softly now and she nods, he presses a kiss to the side of her head, her eyelashes flutter happily as the warmth blossoms in her too with the security that’s Joel Miller.

“Peesh. I’m always good. Bye Tommy!” She says excitedly, fist bumping him when it’s offered.

“See ya, squirt.” Tommy replies but before he’s even voiced his reply, Ellie’s hurrying away and knocking into a patron while waving to you on the way out of the door so hard it slams. Joel sighs, thinking she’s a literal hurricane.

The door hinge has barely stopped shaking before Tommy starts with the suggestions of suitors once more.

“What about Myleene?” Tommy proposes, Joel shakes his head quickly, downing the remainder of his drink.

“Too young.” He replies.

“She’s twenty five.”

“Too young.” He repeats firmer this time.

“Okay, fine. What about Michelle? She’s what forty? I was talking to her in the cobblers the other day, she’s definitely interested - mentioned something about making you a pie?”

“I’m good.” He grumbles looking down into his empty glass but quickly shifting his gaze to the bar, you’re leaning on your elbows, laughing heartily with a patron.

You look beautiful tonight - just like every other night. Your shoulders are sunkissed, your cheeks a little flushed and skin glowing from the summer humidity. He absorbs the way your hair tumbles down your shoulders and the way the thin straps of your tiered sundress slip down occasionally, only to be tugged back into place with dexterous fingers.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Tommy jibes, Joel looks over with a firm scowl.

“What?” He asks, Tommy shakes his head.

“You can dream, brother.” Joel rolls his eyes, trying to act nonchalant. “She’s got a boyfriend anyway.” Tommy adds, Joel eyes him with full attention.

“A boyfriend?” He asks, trying to be sure he heard right.

“Yeah, overheard her talking to one of the girls in the garden a few days ago. Didn’t mention no names but she definitely said she was seein’ someone.” Tommy shrugged, Joel hummed with interest. “Anyway, it don’t matter because she’s way out of your league.”

“Thanks.” Joel retorts, sneaking one last look before focusing on the door behind Tommy, the one Ellie had not long barrelled in and out of just moments ago.

He wonders about the kittens she mentioned and gulps as he imagines her taking to one with its big eyes and soft paws, his mind is pulled back to a time in April when he’d come downstairs one morning to a sink full of tad poles she’d ‘rescued’ from birds out of the neighbours pond.

Basically, his girl can’t resist animals she deems too vulnerable to leave.

“Scared Ellie’s gonna come home with one of them kittens?” Tommy wonders, reading Joel’s mind.

“Terrified.”

********************************************

The sun is setting in bursts of burnt orange and marigold by the time he leaves Tommy to his own devices at the bar, he hazards a look around as he makes his way in the complete opposite direction to his and Ellie’s house.

He slinks around the back of the school house, slithering through the gap and walking up the winding path that leads to the stables. He climbs the short fence and hops to the other side, his boots kick up the dust from the dirt path and the crickets chirp beneath the skyline.

With one more look around, he opens to rear door to the stables and slips inside, shutting it softly behind him.

Immediately he hears the horses further down huff and puff, he can make out the swish of their tails hitting the walls as they munch on hay, there’s a neigh that is absolutely Shimmer kicking up a fuss about something.

He slopes around the riding gear and sees you leaning against the wall, hands behing your back. You grin.

“Took your time, cowboy. Was beginning to think you couldn’t take the hint and stood me up.”

“Never, honey.” Joel prowls towards you, ready to grab you. “Missed you.”

“You just saw me.”

“Not the same.” He yanks you close like a man starved, you’d shared company less than 24 hours ago but you greet and leave each other like it’s the last time you’ll ever be together. It’s the apocalypse affect, you know that, he does too

This arrangement had been going on for almost two months now, all started by a late night patrol together where you’d shared more about yourselves in an eight hour shift than both of your time in Jackson combined. There was an instant attraction, it was so easy to talk to one another and that’s what you did every single time you were partnered together and it became the highlight of your day. It started innocently and friendship had bloomed, then before you knew it you were sharing a rum laced thermos of tea with him in the bed of a truck and kissing him with reddened cheeks shortly thereafter. You’d first slept together in the same truck, just as dawn began to break. It was clumsy and quick but you couldn’t get enough of one another. You hadn’t cum but Joel promised next time would be better which lead to the question of next time? You’d been seeing each other most nights since.

Any chance you got, you were together. Nobody knew about you both, hence why Tommy was incessantly trying to hook Joel up with other women around town and jealousy burned as you listened in on their one sided conversations in the bar whenever you were covering for Darius.

You’d left the bar shortly before Joel had, waving farewell to him and Tommy, coming straight up here to check on the mare just as you’d told Denton. This was a usual spot to meet Joel, it wasn’t your first rodeo in the stables with him. It was the one place you could be alone after a certain time.

“Were you hiding from me, honey? Hmm?” He growls playfully, pulling you to him even though you were barely a millimetre away in the first place. You hum in response, so utterly lost in him. You’re nuzzling his throat, fisting his shirt, desperate for his attention. “God, you look so good today.” He murmurs, mouth finding yours. You moan softly, standing on your tip toes and kissing him in a way that makes his lungs and loins burn alike. His grey tinged moustache prickles your upper lip beautifully, his beard feels familiar beneath your soft hands.

He’s crowding you and guiding you backwards, kissing you hotly in a sense that makes your cunt throb eagerly. You moan into his mouth when he nips your bottom lip, squeezing the left cheek of your ass.

You love when he’s like this - playful and easy. He feels lightyears younger around you, it’s like the heaviness dissipates the moment he’s in your company. He loses himself in the way you smell, the way your hair feels when his fingers are entwined between the sun kissed strands, the way in which your eyes sparkle with mischief.

It’s easy to pull him towards the back of the stable, where the bales of hay were stacked created a nice wall of privacy. You’d been in here a couple of times with him, having gone as far to stash a flannel blanket in one of the cupboards to lay down as to protect you both from the cold floor and the prickle of loose hay.

Once behind the hay and seated on a bale with you in his lap, strong hands are moving the thin straps of your sundress down your shoulders, you momentarily break away from his mouth to aid the removal of your dress to your waist where Joel roughly bunches it up so that your underwear is now on show and so are your tits.

His eyes light up at your bare chest, like he hasn’t seen your breasts countless times before. One thing among many that you first noticed was that Joel Miller is a tit man through and through. His rough and work toughened hands cup them both gently before his tongue swirls around your left nipple.

“Joel.” You murmur, arching into him, rolling your hips into his. He’s hard already, age not affecting him like that in the slightest. He’s a hot blooded male, every single inch a man and that warms you to your core. You grab his hand, bringing it to the top of your panties and he slides it in without hesitation.

“Christ.” He curses, exploring your lips with his fingertips, gliding through the dewy wetness gathered there and coming back up for a split second to drag it over your clit roughly. You whimper, bucking into his hand. “Mmm, babydoll.” Joel huffs against your cheek in a hot pant, repeating the action.

“Need you so badly, Joel. Almost got started without you.” You confess.

“Fuck. You can’t- don’t say shit like that, honey.” He growls lowly, unbelievably hard beneath you. His fingers explore again, you aid his explorations by canting your hips just so.

Joel is eager to get things moving, he’s hard and frustrated, he has a beautiful woman in his lap and the perfect setting. He pulls his hand from your underwear, looking down to see the shine of you on him. He loses his mind when you take his hand and lead it to your mouth, sucking the tips of his index and middle finger as he watches with eyes blown wide; they look black instead of the earthy brown that sometimes melts into caramel or runny honey.

The minute you hum like a content cat, he has you lifted off his lap and braced against him. You squeal at the sudden shift, the ceiling looking closer than the floor but then he gently lays you back on the blanket and settles between your legs.

“Hey, who was Tommy trying to set you up with?” You blurt, Joel pauses.

“Cath.”

“She’s gay.” You frown.

“Michelle too.” He adds before diving down into your chest, pressing your breasts together, mouthing at the swell.

“I’m not sure you’re Michelle’s type, she’s a cougar apparently.” You remark, Joel ignores you in favour of sucking your nipples until they feel raw. “Why Michelle? I don’t understand why Tommy thinks she’s a good match for you.” You don’t know why this is coming up now, your mouth seems to have a mind of its own, the jealousy settling like lead in your stomach.

“He said she wants to make me a pie.” Joel pipes up, the confession half muffled.

“What kind of pie?” You ask, pulling his face from your tits. Joel groans frustratedly, looking up at you with eyes dark and deadly.

“I don’t know. Why does that even matter?”

“A cream pie probably.” You snarl under your breath, the jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach like a rattled viper.

Joel laughs, shaking his head and coaxing your mouth back to his. “Gross.” He murmurs, kissing you softly and squeezing your hips as if to guide you back. “You know I only like your cream pies.” He jokes, this time you break into a smile.

“Now whose gross?” You snort, tugging his plain grey undershirt over his head and to the side. You run your palms over his chest and down to his softer stomach, digging your nails in as they drag a long his skin. Goosebumps erupt all over him.

Joel is softer in his older age but strong too, years of walking different terrain, heavy lifting and fighting have made him lean also.

You hum contentedly, tracing over those familiar scars that have been made in the 20 years since the world imploded.

“He said you were out of my league.” Joel suddenly admits, resting his hands on your spread knees. You frown up at him. “Tommy said you were out of my league.”

“Tell Tommy he doesn’t know shit.” You retort with an eye roll, grabbing Joel by his belt and yanking him forward. “I like you, Joel. Fuck what anyone else thinks, it’s not anyone’s business who we choose to be with.” You say softly now, kissing your way up his chin to his lips. “I like you.” You affirm again, Joel kisses you tenderly, weaving his hand into your hair as you moan quietly.

“Well, I like you too.” He says, kissing you with so much passion yet so much tenderness all at the same time as you fumble to unbuckle his belt. You yank it apart, tugging open the button and prying the worn denim apart with the hiss of his zipper.

He barely lets you wrap a hand around him over his boxers before he has both your wrists pinned above your head, you make a sad whine but all disappointment quickly dissipates when he shuffles down the length of your torso and yanks your underwear down so fast you feel the material leave a friction burn. He grabs your thighs and then manoeuvres your legs by the backs of your knees, you like where this seems to be going.

Your spine curves against the hard floor when his mouth makes that first contact, he starts slow with a lick up the length of you, then he lightly suckles your lips and gently licks over the hood of your clitoris.

“Joel.” You murmur, twisting the blanket beneath your fingertips, scrunching it and bitting down on your lower lip as he continues his gentle assault on your clit, the rubber toes of your hi tops dig into his ribs almost painfully.

His thumb comes up to gently push the hood of your clit back, the sensation of his tongue directly stimulating the nerve causes you to gasp and wind one hand down into his hair, you tug and he groans against you.

You’re transported back to one of the first times you’d been intimate together after sleeping together in the truck.

For some reason, it had shocked you that Joel Miller ate pussy like a champ. The first time he’d gone down on you - behind the bar just after you’d blown him - you’d prepared yourself for dissatisfaction and disappointment, only it never came. Joel had licked into you with such ferocity and precision that you’d almost keened over.

He’d made you cum so quickly that you’d barely had time to process the first swipe of his tongue on your clitoris and the climax that followed minutes later.

He’d looked up at you, moustache and beard slick with his eyes wide; ‘I forgot how much I enjoyed doing that’ he’d panted while you squeaked back in shock.

Now, as you live in the moment, you feel that tingle of pleasure building but you don’t want to cum without him inside of you. As much as it pains you, you tug on his hair, urging him back up.

“Wanna cum with you.” You pant when he looks up with dazed brown eyes, frowning a little. He seems to accept that and sits up, shucking his jeans and boxers down over his ass with the help of your clumsy hands. “Lay back.” You demand, he does so and you move to take his place.

You throw your legs over his and settle above his lap, he’s got one arm behind his head and watches as you take him in your first and tease yourself with the flushed tip of him. He breathes in sharply through his nose as you do it again before notching him at the site of your heat, you steady yourself and begin to sink down.

“Fuck me.” Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly because he’s so sure he’s in heaven. The sensation of your wet heat surrounding him never gets old, he’d forgotten how much he loved sex before meeting you.

“You’re so big, Joel.” You whimper, stroking his ego deliciously and he hates to be such a guy but the compliment goes straight to his dick.

“Fuck, honey. Take what you want, I’m yours - just fuck me.” He begs as you slowly begin to move, your nails scrape across his torso as you fall into an easy rhythm of rolling your hips into his. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby.” He babbles, looking up and admiring the curve of your back and the way your tits bounce as you ride him.

“Mmm.” You whine, picking up the pace and throwing your head back which exposes your jugular and Joel just wants to sink his teeth into you because you truly look good enough to eat.

“Come here, babydoll.” He urges, pulling you down so you’re chest to chest. Your peer at him with pretty doe eyes, your lashes flutter as they shut to kiss him deeply, your tongue swipes his and you taste the tang of yourself on him. You moan louder when he manages to plant his boots on the floor and thrust up into you roughly, tangling his hand in your hair to keep you pressed against him.

It’s so hot in the stables, you’re both sticky and warm. But with your pretty moans and keens filling the air, Joel manages to easily forget the irritation from the heat.

You push against his chest to sit up and Joel grabs your hips, guiding you easily and you feel yourself getting close but you can’t achieve orgasm through penetration alone.

You brace one hand on his thigh behind you, tipping your head back as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle. Your hips roll in an easy rhythm, his cock head hitting your G spot perfectly and you whine when the hand on your left hip moves ever so slightly until Joel was able to thumb your clit. He knows you so well.

“Oh f - fuck. You feel so good, you’re so good - fuck.” You babble, your hips moving faster.

“Jesus christ.” Joel huffs, throwing his head back against the hard floor, biting his bottom lip hard to stave off his orgasm. You feel so good wrapped around him; wet and snug, like crushed velvet.

He knows he can’t stay like this, he’s too close to finishing and he can sense you’re not quite there yet despite being edged so he makes the conscious decision to hold you and flip you both over with a nimbleness he didn’t know he possessed in his older age.

You stutter out a choked moan, arching into his strong hands. You drag your nails down his toned back, leaving a little spatter of blood in the red tracks.

Joel hisses when your nails puncture the skin on the globes of his ass, somehow trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time.

“Where?” He asks, nodding downwards as he fights off his climax.

“Inside.” You reply without hesitation. You’d counted your cycle days, marking in a blank notebook the day number and your symptoms, pretty accurately guessing your fertile window and probable ovulation day by cervical mucus alone. You were four days from your period being due, it was safe.

“You sure?” He hesitates, brow furrowed hard with concentration, he’s a stroke away from finishing. He knows better than most people to not trust the pull out method and he knows the importance of contraception but he still ended up a Dad before he hit his mid twenties. Pushing sixty he’s still playing a dangerous game but so far, neither of you had gotten burnt.

“Yeah.” You gasp, fingers on your clit rubbing faster. You groan suddenly and twist into him, making pretty little whimpers and purring. He groans too, thrusting in hard once, twice and then three times. You feel his cock stiffen and twitch, then the pulse of subtle warmth of his cum spreading inside and aiming for your cervix. He works himself through it, you push in return as the aftershocks slow to a flat line.

Joel heaves a breath, resting on his forearms as you lazily kiss his neck in satisfaction and rapture. You sit there for a minute, basking in the afterglow until Joel grows too stiff and has to withdraw from you slowly, kneeling up between your legs to pull his boxers and jeans back up but he leaves them unbuttoned and his belt loose.

You don’t miss the primal look in his eyes when they drift to between your legs, he can see his cum leaking and the pearlescent finish it leaves on your lips. His cock twitches, perhaps if he was younger he could go for another round but alas, he settles next to you on the blanket, pulling you to his chest and cushioning your head with a strong bicep.

“I think that might have been the best time yet.” You pant breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling and seeing the evening sky through the cracks of wood.

“Maybe one day we can do it in an actual bed, I’m not sure how much more of these places my back can take.” Joel jokes, you giggle and turn into him, listening to the rapid pace of his heartbeat as it settles, a perfect mirror of your own.

“Not bad for an old timer.” You tease, giggling when he growls and squeezes your hip.

“Was patrol okay today?” Joel questions you, you nod lazily against him. “You come across anything?” Now you speak, leaning up to peer down at him.

“A couple of runners. We shot them in that abandoned gas station near the entrance to the offices off the trail. I think they were probably people passing through, one was infected on the journey and turned, then bit the other.” Joel hums, rubbing your lower back and hip. “I have some things for Ellie I found, by the way. I’ll drop them over tomorrow. Nothing crazy, just some things I thought she needed.” You say between kisses down Joel’s chest and sternum, your delicate fingers tracing out old battle scars.

“What like?” He asks, catching your hand as it reaches his happy trail, bringing it to his lips instead where he presses tender kisses to your fingertips.

“Pyjamas, underwear and some toiletries. Oh! And get this, a new casette tape for her walkman.”

“What tape?”

“Teardrops.” You grin.

“Womack and Womack? She’s gonna love that.” Joel says, laying back and smiling at the ceiling of the stables, humming the song in his head. “Fuck, I haven’t heard that song in - jesus - years.” He’s frowning, contemplating lost time, the whole concept of time evades him, it never used to at the start but now? It’s one big jumble, his time is defined by events and not a calendar.

“She still playing that one you got her on repeat?” You wonder.

“Yeah.”

“What was it again?”

“Bowie. Heroes.” Joel replies.

“Nice.” You nod.

As you lie there together in an easy silence, content to be together in the quiet solace of the stables, Joel’s mind wanders back to his earlier conversation with his younger brother:

“Hey, er - Tommy actually said something else earlier.” Joel winces at how awkward he sounds and you huff loudly, ready to hear what other dumbass thing he’s said. “He said he heard you say you have a boyfriend or that you were seein’ someone.”

You sit up, frowning down at Joel.

“Okay…” You reply hesitantly, uneasy now. “Am I not seeing you?” You frown.

“No - no! It’s… that came out wrong. I just meant - “ Joel grumbles, covering his face momentarily while you try to will your stomach from not sinking. “I don’t know, I just wanted to know if you meant me.”

“Seriously, Joel? This conversation is going so well.” You say dryly, utterly unimpressed.

“No! Oh my god! I can’t do this.” He groans, realising his mistake. “I’m sorry, that came out so wrong.” Joel apologises, you snort.

“Look Joel, I was talking to Mrs Patterson in the garden and she was telling me about her late husband, saying how lovely he was and how men just aren’t like that anymore. She asked if I’d found anyone and I let it slip that I was seeing someone, I didn’t mention any names and I can totally understand why you’re freaked when we haven’t even had that conversation ourselves. I shouldn’t have assumed this was anything more than sex, I’m sorry.” You annunciate, warm in the cheeks.

“You want to just have sex?” Joel is sat up now, matching your frazzled expression.

“If that’s what you want.” You shrug, taking an interest in your cuticles. A large hand lays over yours, squeezing. You shift your focus to his knuckles instead, tracing out the scars.

“Honey, look at me.” He urges softly, you hesitantly meet his eyes. “I think somewhere we’ve miscommunicated.”

“How so?” You press.

“Look… it’s been a long time since I’ve done this, I’m a little rusty. I’m sorry if I haven’t been clear about what we are or what I want us to be, I kinda just assumed you knew and yeah, that’s real shitty of me.” He says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanna be exclusive with you, honey. I mean, I have Ellie to think about so we’ll need to go slow just so I can ease her into the change. Is that okay?” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“That’s more than okay, Joel. I completely understand, I don’t want to spook Ellie either.” You confirm, Joel let’s out a relieved sigh.

“Good - good, okay. We’ll figure it out, baby.” He assures you, nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you softly.

It’s easy to lose yourself in Joel Miller, you’re swept up in the gruff voice and strong arms, the softness beneath his outer shell reserved for those closest to him.

You’re kissing him back in earnest, he’s reclining to lay back down with you on top of him and you’re sure this could lead to round two or at least head from either one of you, maybe even both.

However, the moment is spoiled when you hear voices creeping closer to the stables. You both stiffen and wait, looking at each other with eyes opened wide.

The voices are getting closer and you decipher it’s two sets, it’s not made clear who it is until they’re walking behind the stables and you can see their shadows slink between the thin gaps in the planks.

It’s Ellie and Tommy.

You and Joel scramble, you yank your dress back over your breasts and pull the hem of it over your ass. Your panties are on the floor and you narrowly dodge Joel’s elbow as he hastily buckles his jeans back up just in time for the door around the corner to open with a shriek of the hinges.

“What if he’s gone out on patrol without telling me? Or maybe he’s swapped with someone and gone hunting? I know I’m back way earlier than he said but he said he’d be home! Do you think he’s left the gate? What if he’s hurt? What if - “ Ellie begins to ramble and Tommy sighs.

“Kiddo, stop worrying. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, let’s look at the whiteboard and see if his name’s on there. I highly doubt he’s swapped shifts and he wouldn’t leave without telling you, he’s gotta be around here some…” Tommy’s reassurance comes to a stop when he round the corner of the hay bale wall and abruptly stops, staring at you and Joel with as much shock as you return.

Ellie slams into his back and he wobbles but his gaze never falters.

“What the fuck, man!” Ellie exclaims, shoving Tommy and stepping around his statue like form but also freezing too.

You look between them both, trying to formulate an excuse but Joel shoving his t-shirt on, the fact your clothes are crumpled and there’s absolutely hay in your tousled hair says it all.

Your panties are shoved behind your back out of view.

“Well I’ll be damned, you’re the guy she’s seein’!.” Tommy snorts, looking between you both. Joel growls, yanking on his flannel while Ellie manually retrieves her jaw from the floor.

“What the fuck is this?” She asks, looking between you and Joel. “You have a girlfriend? What the fuck, dude? You didn’t say anything!” She fumes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Look, it’s complicated and new.” He says, which placates her slightly. She stares at you again and you see the betrayal hidden behind a scowl, she looks at Joel again.

“Fine. I guess this isn’t that bad, it could be worse - we could of caught you with Esther.”

“That’s true.” Tommy nods, pointing at Ellie, she nods back.

“Esther?” You question, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Tommy’s neighbour, she totally fancies Joel.” Ellie tells you. “You should fight her.”

“No, she doesn’t and stop shit stirring.” Joel warns Ellie, she hides a smirk which tells you she’s winding Joel up.

“I could take Esther.” You say, playing along, Ellie’s eyes brighten with mischief.

“Nobody’s fighting no one.” Joel settles, you’re all silent for a millisecond and then Tommy throws in his two cence.

“You could take Esther.” He agrees.

“Enough about Esther, please!” Joel begs, beside himself.

“This is fucking embarrassing, Joel. What the fuck do you expect us to do? It’s awkward!” Ellie complains, Tommy nods in agreement, you do too.

“Yeah? Try being where we’re stood, kid.” He retorts.

Ellie kinda has to resist the urge to throw up in her mouth because Joel has sex which is so horrifying that she almost can’t bare to look at him but she’s equally happy for him and utterly disgusted, she swallows back a retch.

“Fine, whatever. I’m very happy for you and my da - Joel.” Ellie bursts and corrects herself at the last minute, you don’t miss the hitch in Joel’s breathing but this is not the time for that discussion. “I’m willing to negotiate a price for the emotional damage you’ve both caused me by lying to me, sneaking around and also having sex in front of my horse.” She lists.

“My horse too!” Tommy adds.

“And Tommy’s horse too, Crash and Shimmer didn’t want to see your bare ass.” Ellie continues and for some reason Joel knows exactly where this is going, so he braces himself.

“Name your price.” He bites, Ellie looks at him with a levelling glare, it’s getting hard not to laugh when you see Tommy observing like he’s watching a mafia deal go down.

“A kitten.” Ellie reveals.

He fucking knew it.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal fanfiction

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soapisahimbo · 1 year

Text

Three's Company - John 'Soap' MacTavish & Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Request by @st4rv1ng-m0uth:

Well I just finished reading uou nsfw alphabet for Soap and The idea you had under the dirty secret was just amazing so I would love to request threesome with Ghost and Johnny (also I think it if they kissed in the eiffel tower position that would be just *chef's kiss*)

Oh. My. God. This request was sent to me in January. I am so sorry that you had to wait this long, but I sincerely hope this makes up for the wait! This is a bit of a beast at 7200 words, which might not seem like a lot compared to some writers, but it is to me! I really, really, really hope you like it!

Contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

warnings: threesome, fem!reader/female anatomy, overstimulation, soap and ghost get FILTHY with reader, eiffel tower position, oral sex, penetrative sex, semi-homoeroticism, may contain spelling errors despite checking, i fucking got carried away

You felt the world roll with a yelp and a whoosh; the floor came up to meet you, your back slammed against the mat and you knew that it was with just enough force to leave a bruise for a good week or so. Such was the way of Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley - he never actually hurt you, but he'd beat you up just enough for you to remember the lesson. To be fair though, you suspected he was going easy on you. Or, well, easier compared to the others he usually sparred with, just a tad.

With another quick sweeping motion, he pulled you by your arm to sit you up, only to slip into position behind you and wrap you up in a grip so tight you were sure that a boa constrictor would be considered child's play in comparison; one arm wrapped around your neck in a chokehold, your arm that he grabbed twisted at an uncomfortable angle, and his legs clamped around your midsection like a beartrap.

You could only hold for a few seconds before you tapped his arm with your free hand to signal submission and he released you in an instant, letting you roll over and get back up on your feet. He stood up as well, towering over you.

"I thought you said you weren't gonna let me 'fuck you over' today," he said, and you swore you could've heard a tone of mockery in his voice. The balaclava gave you a better look at his eyes than the skull-mask usually did, but it still kept any expression on his face obscured. If he even had any expressions to show.

"Shut up," you said. "You caught me off guard is all."

"Uh-huh. Isn't the whole point of this to train so you don't get caught off guard?"

Ghost had, much to your surprise, been the one to offer to train you. Not that you weren't capable, but his argument for it was that you would need to learn to take down the best and the most dangerous soldiers that you could come across on the battlefield, and he wanted to make sure you were well trained. Just learning to take down someone his size alone could be imperative to your survival. As such, the two of you had met up every other day to spar if able, and by now you had been going for at least a couple of months of the same routine.

"Well, sometimes even the best of us get caught off guard. It's just as important to learn how to regain your footing when you lose your balance as it is to keep it," you quipped, proud of your analogy.

"Well, you failed."

You sighed, planting your hands on your hips, and stared at him for a moment. "You can't just let me have a moment, can you?"

"No. You're not here to have 'moments', you're here to train. You won't be havin' any moments if you're dead."

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he had a point. "I hate it when you're right."

"It's a burden I carry much too often." He stepped away to grab a bottle of water and handed it to you. "You got cocky. You lost the second you thought you could beat me."

"Oh wow, kill my hopes and dreams, why don't you?" you mumbled sarcastically.

"Never underestimate your opponent, and never overestimate your own abilities. A bloated ego will never do you any good. If you ask me, I'd say Sergeant MacTavish has rubbed off a bit too much on you."

You noticed that he was looking past you, over your shoulder, and you turned to see the very man mentioned leaning up against the wall with a grin on his face.

"Awae widdya now, lieutenant. I swear to you I've never rubbed anythin' off on anyone. Least of all any pretty ladies." He turned his gaze to you and gave a wink.

You'd be lying if you said Soap MacTavish didn't have an effect on you. For the most part, you considered him a good and trustworthy friend, someone who you knew you could lean on in troubled times. But he was also an incessant tease with a rugged sort of charm, a man who harmlessly liked to push buttons and limits all the same, and looked at you with a certain kind of gleam in his eyes that made you feel just the tiniest little flutter in your stomach. You couldn't let him catch you checking him out, or he'd never let you hear the end of it.

"Too busy rubbing yourself," Ghost deadpanned. breaking you out of your little moment of reverie.

Soap chuckled. "You should try it, maybe it'd help you relax."

"Now now, boys," you said from behind the lip of your water bottle, about to take a sip, "play nice."

Soap stepped away from the wall to join you and Ghost on the mat. "I always play nice, wouldn't you say, lass? LT however - he might be nice to you, but he'd shove a boot up my arse at any given moment."

You scoffed. "If this is what it feels like when he's 'nice', I don't want to know what it feels like when he plays rough."

"Might get you to stay focused for once," Ghost grumbled.

"How 'bout I join in, eh?" Soap offered. "It's always good to have some variation in your life."

"You wanna teach her how to blabber her enemies to death?"

"You know I could give some good pointers."

You couldn't help but hesitate. Getting your ass handed to you by the Ghost was rough enough, but Ghost and Soap? You knew that despite all their bickering, they were a tight and dangerous pair that garnered a lot of awe and respect from their peers. On one hand, you probably couldn't find anyone better to train you even if you tried; on the other, you weren't sure how you'd make it through a session with both of them.

You heard Ghost let out a slight sigh. "Fine." He turned to you. "You go a couple of rounds with MacTavish, I'll watch, then we switch. Stay on your toes and stay. Focused."

He didn't seem to give you any say in the matter, so you were left with little other choice but to do as you were told. You put your bottle to the side, straightened the laces on your boots and took a deep breath. "Yessir."

Soap - Johnny, as he gave you special permission to call him, which otherwise seemed to be Ghost's sole privilege - made a habit of joining you for your regular sparring sessions, and while you definitely learned some very valuable lessons, they certainly put you through the ringer. You made the mistake of thinking that maybe the sergeant would have been a bit more easygoing compared to his masked counterpart, but while he kept up the usual light-hearted humour, he and Ghost gave you very little respite. You were however making improvement, so much so that even Ghost complimented you on it, so you kept your complaining to a minimum.

You couldn't help but feel like there was something hanging in the air, though. You tried to brush it off as just good-natured competition between them, but you knew that wasn't quite it. After about two months of training with them, you started to notice some interesting behaviour to say the least.

They were usually already there when you arrived, keeping a hushed conversation that quickly ended once you entered the room. Probably some confidential stuff, you thought.

They were liberal with slower walkthroughs, one always putting their hands on you to adjust your position when grappling with the other. They're just being thorough, you thought.

They kept bantering, and you couldn't help but feel like they were showing off. For you or for each other, you couldn't tell, but they had a certain way of butting heads over what to do and how to do it better than the other. That's just the way they are, you thought.

By the end of each session, it felt like something was ready to snap, but you couldn't for the life of you put your finger on it. You found yourself waiting for something to happen, but you didn't know what, and you couldn't tell if you felt relieved or disappointed when nothing did. The more that feeling kept growing, the more that snap felt ever imminent, and it didn't seem like you could do anything but brace.

It wasn't until you happened to overhear a conversation between them that the feeling seemed to gain some sort of validity. You didn't mean to snoop, but just as you were about to step through the door, you heard Johnny mention your name, and you stopped right next to the doorway.

"We'd be going against an entire library's worth of paragraphs," you heard Ghost respond to whatever he had said.

"You keep saying that, but you still haven't said that you don't want it," he scoffed. "I'm pretty sure Price has had his fair share, and I know for a fact that Gaz has."

"Fuck's sake, Johnny."

"Listen, I'm not dumb, all right?"

"I have my doubts."

"Fuck off. Look, I'm not talking about pulling some dirty tricks or trying to persuade her into doing something she doesn't want to do. If she doesn't want anything to do with it, that's it, end of story."

"Do you realize she's in our squad? This will only serve to create unnecessary complications. We are her superiors - ever stop to think about how that'll look if anyone were to find out? Get your head out of your fucking ass."

"Of course I've thought about it! I'm aware of how fucked this is. But I also know you're as deep in it as I am." There was a moment's heavy pause and you could feel it even from where you were standing.

"We're done talking about this, Johnny."

You took this as your cue to step in and found the two of them glaring at each other, but they didn't seem to notice you until you spoke up. "Done talking about what?" you said.

It was almost as if though you had poured buckets of icy water over them with how they jolted at the sound of your voice, their heads snapped in your direction and they stared at you with such wide eyes that you thought they would pop out of their sockets. If their topic of discussion hadn't sounded so serious before you entered, you probably would've laughed.

They stayed quiet and frozen for a few more moments. "Is..." you started. "Is there something I should know?"

Johnny seemed to splutter back to reality. "No! No, no, not at all, we were just-"

"How much did you hear?" Ghost interrupted, demanding but apprehensive.

You shrugged. "Enough to know you were talking about me, but that's about it." You squinted your eyes at them. "The fuck are you guys up to that you have to be this secretive about it? Are you in trouble?"

"No," said Johnny, "no, we're not in any trouble. And neither are you, we were just... discussing something."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Listen, if there's anything I need to know, I'd prefer it if you just told me. Especially if the two of you are gonna keep sneaking around behind my back like this."

You had never seen them this stiff and... awkward. Like two teenage boys getting caught watching porn by their mom. Their eyes flitted between each other and you, contemplating whether to tell you and how much. They seemed to come to some silent agreement before turning to you once more.

"Not here," Ghost grumbled. "We can head to my room. It's... a bit more secluded."

"An invitation to Simon Riley's private quarters?" you tried to joke. "Wow, this must be something special."

Neither of them responded, instead Ghost just stepped by you and Johnny gestured for you to follow. Walking down the halls, that feeling in the air was heavier than ever, and you still couldn't tell what it was or if it made you excited or nervous; if it was something serious or just something that they'd built up in their heads to be bigger than it actually was.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you guys were up to something illegal," you said after walking in awkward silence for far longer than you were comfortable with. "Is this the part where you tell me you've been running an underground drug ring all this time?"

Johnny chuckled. "Not illegal, technically, just..." He gave an odd glance at you. "Maybe a bit questionable."

Ghost's room was not quite what you expected it to be. Clean and tidy, well-lit, organized. You'd half-expected there to be a row of skull-masks to be hanging neatly on the wall - one for every day of the week. Or mood. Maybe he hid them in his closet.

"All right," you said, watching him take a seat at his desk. "Are you guys gonna tell me what's up?"

The men glanced at each other once more. "We, uh," Johnny began. "There's something we've been thinking about. A... proposition, of sorts?"

Ghost groaned. "Don't call it that. We're not proposing or offering anything here, all right? We just need to get this out, clear the fuckin' air."

"Fine, don't lose yer fuckin' head. Listen, we don't expect anything off of you, or think that this is something you'd want, we just don't want you to get the wrong idea or get caught up in something you don't want to be involved in."

"This is starting to sound more and more like a drug ring after all," you muttered.

"It's not, all right, I can promise you that. It's just that... after some time, LT and I feel like you've been doing very well during practice and we're quite proud of you. But we also feel like there's something we can't quite... overlook."

You couldn't get over how they were acting. Johnny was usually such a cocky and confident man, you'd never seen him struggle to find the words he wanted to say.

"Ok, and?"

"Just get to the point," Ghost grumbled.

"This isn't exactly an easy conversation here, LT, I'm tryin' to-"

"This was your fuckin' idea, Soap, you get to see it through."

"Guys-" you tried, but to no avail.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't want it too!"

"I want you to get it out of your fuckin' system so you can shut up about it for once!"

"Go fuck yerself, you're just as involved as-"

"You're the one that has been scheming about this shit since day one, don't fuckin' pin it on me!"

"For fuck's sake!"

You honestly wished you knew what was going on, but between their arguing and your own confusion, you didn't even realize Johnny had walked up to you until he grabbed you by the wrist, pulled you to him and planted his lips on yours. You weren't quite sure what to make of this or what to focus on - his lips were far softer than you ever would've thought they'd be, and his hands, now cupping your cheeks, were far gentler than you had experienced before. He broke off just as suddenly as he'd grabbed you and you felt your head spin, gripping onto his wrists for some sort of stability.

"Whoa..." you mumbled.

"Fuckin' hell," you heard Ghost growl.

"Sorry," Johnny muttered, seemingly just as dazed as you. "I lost my cool there for a second."

You couldn't help but chuckle. You weren't sure what to make of this, but a part of you wanted to just go with it. "I mean, I didn't really mind it."

"You serious?"

"Yeah. Didn't think this was what you were going for, but it could've been worse, I guess."

His face split into a grin before he leaned in and kissed you again, more calm and controlled this time. You weren't sure how long you stood there for until you heard Ghost clearing his throat, and you flinched at the sound, blushing profusely once you remembered where you were.

"Sorry to interrupt you, lovebirds, but if this is how it's gonna go, you can just head to your own rooms."

Johnny glanced over at him. You could see the gears turning before he looked at you, planted another gentle kiss onto you lips and then turned you towards the lieutenant, placing himself behind you. He put his hands on your waist and leaned his chin against your shoulder.

"Come on now, LT. Isn't this what we came here for?"

You looked between them, watching another lazy grin appear on Johnny's face and Ghost's hands clench at the armrests on his desk-chair. Slowly, you felt it click in your head.

"This is why you guys have been acting so weird? You both have a thing for me?"

"That's one way to put it."

"So, what, you want me to choose between you or something? You guys have been having some weird competition over who gets the girl?"

Ghost stood up. "Not quite," he said. He stared at you and you couldn't quite tell if maybe there was some sort of jealousy or if he wanted to leave you be.

"It's more of a mutual desire, really," Johnny mumbled into your hair.

Ghost stepped towards you, slowly. Gently, he grabbed your chin and tilted it up and stared into your eyes. He ran his thumb along your jaw and then up to your bottom lip. "This ok?" he asked quietly.

Oh.

It made sense now - or at least a bit more than it did before. Their weird behaviour, their conversation, the way they'd kept dancing around the point. To be fair, you would've expected the drug ring long before you'd ever thought of this.

You took a moment to think it through; this wasn't exactly something that happened every day. Just like Ghost had said earlier, this would not look good if anyone else were to find out. All three of you would end up in heaps of trouble, them possibly more than you. You knew, logically, that it was probably for the best to end it right here, to say "thanks, but no thanks", walk away and pretend like this never happened. They definitely knew this, too, but there was something about the warmth emanating from them, enveloping you; the touch, that tension in the air. That snap that had been hanging over your heads this entire time, like a rubber band pulled to its absolute limit. You knew that you should say no to this.

But how could you?

Before you even knew what you were doing, you nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it's ok."

You could tell that they both relaxed significantly, Johnny pressing himself closer to your back and squeezing at your waist as Ghost reached up and pulled his mask off. No. Simon. You'd seen him before, but it didn't make it any less palpable to see him again.

He gave you a moment to stare at his face before he leaned in and kissed you, surprisingly much gentler than the sergeant. Your heart was already pounding and your mind was racing, not knowing what to focus on; Simon's lips on yours, Johnny's tongue at your neck, their hands caressing you all over, stroking and kneading and wandering. You didn't know what to do with your own, so they wandered as well, grabbing at their shirts, at their arms, at their hair, their belts.

"Look at this, LT," Johnny spoke softly as his hands slipped in under your shirt and up to your chest, "we had nothing to worry about."

Simon hummed into your mouth, his tongue slipping in past your lips. His hand moved downwards, cupping your mound and rubbing at it, and your hips tilted back, ass grinding right into Johnny. You broke the kiss with a gasp, leaning your head back to catch your breath.

"That feel good, bonnie?" Johnny chuckled into your ear and cupped your breasts over your bra, squeezing. "Want us to keep going?"

You nodded. "Yes! Yeah, I want- keep going."

You felt a tug and looked down to see Simon unbuckling your belt. He unbuttoned your pants, opening them up and slipping a hand right down your underwear, finding a slick heat in his wake, and your mouth fell open in a soft gasp. He groaned and rubbed circles around your hole, as if taking in the sensation of your wetness.

"Fffuck me," he whispered. "She's fucking soaked."

Johnny grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up to your chest, exposing your skin and leaning over your shoulder to get a view of what his lieutenant was doing. "Give 'er here, LT."

You watched with utter surprise and fascination as Simon pulled his hand back out from your pants, fingers glistening, and held it right up to Johnny's face, who took his fingers into his mouth without an ounce of hesitation.

"How's she taste?" Simon asked.

Johnny hummed against the hand as he sucked and licked it clean before releasing it and turned his head to look you dead in the eyes. "Like a fuckin' dream."

You whimpered as Simon ran his now wet hand over your throat, then down between your breasts, over your stomach. He then grabbed onto the hem of your pants and started pulling them down, leaving you bare.

"Oh, shit," you breathed as he knelt down in front of you.

He untied and yanked your boots off before removing your pants and underwear completely. "Lift her leg up for me, will ya, Johnny?"

Johnny shifted his weight and you felt his chest at your shoulder, holding a firm grip with his arm around your waist before he scooped up one of your legs by the crook of your knee. He grinned at you and leaned in to press his lips against yours one more, far more eager and heated than he was before. It was hard for you to focus though, as you felt Simon's large hands rub up along the inside of your thighs. Before you knew it, you felt him press his face in between your legs, and at the feeling of his lips on you, you gasped, and Johnny took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You don't know how they did it, but they seemed to work in perfect tandem. Johnny's tongue stroking against yours, Simon's tongue lapping at your pussy, driving you out of your mind with pleasure. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tried to find something to hold on to - one hand made it's way to Simon's head and grabbed a tight hold on his hair and had him groan into your core. The other found Johnny's arm around your waist, gripping and digging your nails into his skin.

You thought you felt a wet drop run down your leg and you weren't sure if it was your own or Simon's making, but he gave you very little time to consider it as he slipped a calloused finger into you. You broke away from Johnny's kiss with a moan and your head fell back against his shoulder.

He chuckled. "Y'feel good, bonnie? Is your pussy all wet and nice for us?"

You couldn't do much else but nod fervently. "Yes," you moaned, "yes, I'm-!" You felt another finger push inside and your hips canted against Simon's face. "Fuck!"

"Just like that, baby," Johnny mumbled into your ear. "Look at you now, hm? Gonna watch you cum all over his face like a good fuckin' girl."

The shivers that ran through your body at his words met with the heat at the pit of your stomach from Simon's mouth and fingers and you trembled. You thought you'd shake apart, but they held onto you so tightly that they might has well have been glued to you. You felt Simon's fingers curl inside you, finding the spot that you'd always had trouble reaching on your own, and his tongue worked between your folds and then up to your clit. The volume of the moan that left you startled you, and for a brief moment you were worried that someone else would hear, but it only seemed to spur your company on. Johnny ground his crotch against your rear with another chuckle and buried his face in your neck, licking and nibbling at your jawline as Simon sucked on your clit and pumped his fingers in and out, pushing against that spot again and again and again.

"Ah, f-fuck, fuckfuckfuck," you panted, "thi-this is s-so fucki- I'm-!"

"Breathe," Johnny groaned against your skin, "breathe. You're so good, so fuckin' good to us. Cum on his face now, bonnie, go on, cum on his face and then you can cum on our cocks, yeah?"

Another wave of shivers had you quivering in his arms. Simon pressed his face further into your pussy, grunting like a man starved with his free hand gripping onto your thigh, and Johnny moaned at you further to "cum, baby, cum for us, I promise it'll feel so good." The heat in between your thighs felt like it was starting to boil, a sort of pressure getting stronger and stronger and stronger, condensing into a white-hot pinpoint of pleasure at your core, and Johnny cooed, Simon fucked his fingers into you and you squirmed between them until the pressure finally burst and you came with a cry and a gush over Simon's hand and mouth. Your legs shook as Simon worked you through your orgasm and you surely would've collapsed if wasn't for Johnny holding you up. You couldn't stop the sounds you let out, your hips twitching and shaking, the pleasure almost becoming too much as Simon still didn't break away, and you whined trying to get away from his onslaught.

"S-Simon," you whimpered, "too much, too- fuck, I can't!"

Johnny lifted you slightly and turned, just enough to move you away from the lieutenant. "Easy there, LT," he said when Simon glared at him and placed your leg back down. "Gotta pace ourselves, yeah?" He then gestured to you to lift your arms up so he could pull your shirt off, and then removed your bra only to fill his hands with your breasts.

Simon took a deep breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared at your pussy, slick and wet and hot and delicious, and licked his fingers clean before he stood up. He cupped your cheeks in his hands, leaning down to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on him. As if running on instinct, you tugged at his belt and he sighed into your mouth, staring into your eyes as you unbuckled and unbuttoned his pants.

"That what you want, sweetheart?"

You nodded, and then turned to look over your shoulder at Johnny. You arched your back, rubbing your ass against his groin and he took it as a signal to get rid of his pants as well. He grinned and made quick work of his clothes as you reached into Simon's boxers and pulled his member out. It was hot to the touch, thick and heavy in your hand, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of it.

"Go on, bonnie," Johnny said as he grabbed two handfuls of your buttcheeks and rubbed his cock between them with a sigh. "Can't wait to fuck you."

You leaned forward, bending over for them. Simon gently gathered up your hair in his hand and rubbed over your shoulder blades with the other, crossing with Johnny's hand in the middle as he rubbed at your lower back. You wrapped your fingers around the base of Simon's cock and licked a line along the length of him, and you heard him groan.

"Ain't she a pretty sight, LT?" Johnny sighed. You felt him rub the head of his member against your clit.

Simon hummed, watching you with a slack jaw as put your mouth on him. "Like a fuckin' dream," he mumbled.

You wrapped your lips around the head of him and sucked gently. You weren't sure if you'd be able to take all of him in your mouth, but damn it if you weren't going to try. You heard him breathe out a curse as you worked your hand along his shaft and bobbed your head, gently trying to coax more of him in. Johnny pressed closer against your pussy, rubbing his cock against it before he lined himself up properly. You braced yourself, trying to keep a clear head as he pushed a little bit more and more, until the glans of his head finally entered you and he easily slid inside you with a moan of near relief.

"Ah, Christ, shit, you're so fucking soft," he breathed. He pushed his hips a bit harder against you, inadvertently knocking you closer to Simon and pushing his cock deeper down your throat.

You choked for barely a second before Simon pulled back. "Easy, Johnny!"

"Sorry, sorry..."

Simon stroked your cheek and went to ask if you were ok, but you wrapped your lips around him again and the words died right on the tip of his tongue. Slowly but surely, you found a rhythm of letting Johnny's momentum push you forward and let Simon's cock sink further into your mouth and then pushing yourself back onto Johnny's. The heat was overwhelming, but addictive, and you felt the buildup in your core once more, your legs already quivering.

Simon held onto your hair, stroking your face and your neck and your shoulders, completely silent save for a few sighs. Johnny, however, seemed like he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Fuck, we should've done this sooner, you're fuckin' perfect, bonnie," he grunted as he fucked into you deeper and harder. "This fuckin' ass- I knew this ass was perfect the moment I saw it, baby, and this pussy, too, this pussy is heaven." He stretched you perfectly, and you didn't think you'd ever be able to find anyone that could compare to this.

Moaning against Simon, you braced your hands against his hips, doing the best you could to swallow him down, but with each thrust from Johnny, it got harder and harder to focus.

"Awh, fuckin' shit, you're fuckin' grippin' me," Johnny rambled, "yeah, you're gonna cum on this cock, lass, I know you are, I know you fuckin' are, do it, baby, do it."

Faster and harder, deeper and stronger, he thrusted and thrusted and he praised and moaned for you to cum. He reached his hand around, slipped his fingers in between your thighs to rub your clit and you shook, almost unable to make a sound as you still held Simon as far deep down your throat as you could. You could barely prepare for the next wave of pleasure that washed over you, and you came with yet another gush, and Johnny let out an almost triumphant moan.

"Fuck yes, baby, that's it. Thaaat's it, good girl." He kept going, a bit slower and a bit softer, but still enough to have you shake. "Think you can do it again, sweetie? I'm gonna need you to do that again, I wan-"

Simon suddenly reached up one hand and snatched Johnny by the mohawk and pulled him close over you, the other hand wrapped around the sergeant's throat. You were squeezed in between them, Johnny's cock pushed deeper into your pussy, and Simon's felt like it was nearly all the way down your esophagus. In a moment of shocked silence, as your eyes rolled back, Simon kissed Johnny harshly, parting with an almost punishing bite to the other man's bottom lip.

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" he growled. He leaned in again, forcing Johnny's head to tilt as he pushed his tongue into his mouth, and broke away with another bite of his lip and a thin string of saliva hanging between them. "I think I've got just the thing, actually."

He pushed Johnny away, hard enough to have him slip out of you. He was considerably gentler with you, pulling his cock out of your mouth and cupping your cheeks as you coughed to lift your head up to give you a gentle kiss.

"You ok, sweetheart?" You nodded, the soreness in your throat not all too bad considering what you'd just had down it. Pleased, he turned you around, and you saw that Johnny had stumbled onto the bed. "How about you and I," Simon whispered in your ear as he ran his hands over your breasts, "teach him a lesson for once?"

Before you could answer, he picked you up. He walked towards the bed, sat down at the headboard and leaned back. He adjusted you on his lap, your back against his chest, and placed his knees on the inside of yours before he slowly spread them apart as Johnny watched from the foot of the bed. Johnny smirked and began to crawl towards you, but before he could reach you fully, Simon reached up and yanked his hair again.

"Easy now, pup," he growled. "Put my fuckin' cock in her pussy before you even think about doin' anythin' else."

There was only a tiny moment of stunned silence, but it was heavy nonetheless. You didn't think they'd reach a point where they actually got involved with each other, but as you watched Johnny take a deep shaky breath and his eyes widen, you found that you hoped that maybe they'd go a bit further.

Johnny swallowed nervously before reaching his hand out to grab Simon. Hesitantly, but almost mischievously, he wrapped his fingers around the member and moved his hand up and down once.

"No games, Johnny," Simon warned, and Johnny actually chuckled.

He then lined the head of Simon's cock up with your hole and held it there as you sank down on it. You gasped, having to pace yourself at the thickness of it. Simon held a gentle hand just above your mound, gently pushing you down as he still held a firm grip on Johnny's hair.

"Easy, sweetheart, no need to rush," he mumbled.

Johnny could only helplessly watch as you slowly worked the entirety of Simon's length into you, and you thought you maybe saw a single drop of drool roll from the corner of his mouth.

"So I don't get to join in on the fun anymore?" he quipped, but you could hear a slight quiver to his voice.

"I thought I told you to shut up," Simon muttered.

You shivered as you tried to adjust to his size, rolling your hips once with a moan. He was thicker than Johnny, thick enough that you felt him press against every side of your inner walls, as well as the g-spot that they'd already worked up to high sensitivity before.

"There you go." Simon tugged Johnny closer by his hair. "Now then. Why don't we put that mouth of yours to some good fuckin' use for once, huh?"

He then yanked Johnny's head down between your legs and pushed his face into your pussy, and even in his own surprise it didn't even take a second before he began working his tongue between your folds. You cried out, feeling like you still hadn't quite come down from your previous orgasm, but even if you wanted, you wouldn't have been able to get away with how Simon wrapped his arm tightly around your waist and rolled his hips up. Your head fell back and you tried to find some way to brace yourself, any way, as every brush of Johnny's tongue and every thrust of Simon's cock drove you further and further out of your mind. You thought you maybe came once more, but you couldn't be sure - every sensation seemed to melt into one and you were so high-strung that you might as well be having just one drawn-out and consistent orgasm at this point.

Simon kept Johnny's head in firm position between your legs. "How's that feel, love? Is his mouth as good on your pussy as it is at talking shit?"

Johnny groaned in what sounded like some sort of protest, but he never made any attempt at moving away. He lapped diligently at your pussy, sighing and moaning against you, licking around your hole where you were split open on Simon.

"Fuck, I-" you managed to croak out, almost forgetting how to speak. "I'm gonna- you're gonna be the death of me."

Simon let go of Johnny's hair and grabbed your legs, pulling your knees up to your chest. Johnny kept his mouth on you and you let out a whine nearing a sob as Simon began rocking his hips upward faster.

"Don't you worry, sweetheart, just relax. Breathe and relax."

In a matter of seconds, Johnny had his lips around your clit and sucked, and you cried out his name, legs shaking as he forced yet another orgasm out of you. You were sure you were losing your mind - there was no way this was actually happening, no way that you could actually feel this. You were only more and more convinced of this as Johnny continued licking, eager to get every drop.

"Fuck!" you whined. "Fuck, Johnny, Simon, I-!"

Simon pushed Johnny away, planted his feet into the mattress to adjust his angle and then pounded into you with some sort of newly found energy. Johnny wrapped his hand around his own cock, jerking it in rhythm with Simon's thrusts and leaned back down between your legs with a wide open mouth and his tongue out.

"One last time," Simon groaned. "One more, just one more."

Your legs tried to squeeze together on their own, but Simon's grip was too strong and you could do little else but grab onto whatever was near and hold as you came once more over Johnny's face, him and Simon following shortly after. With a grunt, Simon pushed himself as deep into you as he could get and you felt a sticky heat fill you up, and Johnny reared up, moaning aloud as he came all over where you and Simon were conjoined. He nearly fell over, head falling onto your stomach.

The only sound that broke the otherwise heavy silence was panting. You weren't sure if you could move or if even the slightest shift would have you break apart completely; it sure felt like it would. Simon wrapped his arms around you, planting soft kisses along your shoulder and neck. You thought Johnny might have fallen asleep where he laid, but he took a deep, deep breath and turned his head to press a few kisses around your bellybutton.

"Shit," he mumbled against you, "that was..." Neither you or Simon were able to respond, but it didn't seem to bother him as he glanced up at you with a chuckle. "I don't think anything will live up to that."

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees and crawled over you, his hips between yours and Simon's legs. He sighed almost dreamily and gave you a sweet kiss.

"We did a real number on you, huh?"

You couldn't help but laugh, still finding this whole ordeal impossible. "You think?"

"We should get her to the shower," Simon mumbled. "Clean her up."

Johnny nodded. "Sounds like a solid plan. Although I've half a mind to just lay down and knock out."

Simon leaned forward to sit up. "Shower first. Then knock out."

You whined suddenly at the movement, his cock still sitting snug inside you. The two men instantly froze, staring wide-eyed at you. "S-Sorry, it's ok, I'm just- I'm sensitive. I feel like you guys gave me a week's worth of fucking in a matter of minutes."

"Shit, we took it too far, didn't we?" Johnny said, his hands fluttering over your hips.

"No, no! I enjoyed it. A lot. But it's not like I'm particularly used to that sort of... conquest."

Simon sighed as Johnny chuckled. "I'm gonna try to be gentle, but we will need to get you to the shower nonetheless."

You nodded and the two of them looked at each other, coming to yet another one of those silent agreements that they were so good at.

"C'mere," Johnny said. "Sit up and wrap your arms around me, yeah?"

You grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled yourself up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wrapped his around your torso and began to lift as Simon pushed you up from beneath until he slipped out of you. You felt your legs shake once more and the cum dripping out of you as you drew in a shaky breath.

"There you go," Simon said, much softer than you'd heard him before.

He turned and stood up as Johnny scooped you up into his arms. It was like they moved in unison to look after you - Simon walking first into the bathroom to pull aside the shower curtain and turning the water on as Johnny followed him closely behind. Johnny then stepped into the shower and gently placed you down on your feet, reaching out a hand to feel the temperature of the water before he guided you in under the stream. Simon gathered up a few towels before he joined you and you couldn't help but laugh. This shower didn't seem like it was meant to hold more than one person at a time and yet they both seemed adamant to look after you.

Johnny crouched down to clean your legs and to gently wash off the fluids between them, trying not to rub too much at already overly sensitive spots. Simon scrubbed your back, gently massaging your shoulders and scratching the skin at the base of your skull. You were sure you were about to fall asleep then and there, but they made quick work of it, before they stepped out with you and dried you off with a fresh towel.

Simon grabbed you a t-shirt and a pair of boxers that Johnny helped you put on before they essentially tucked you in. They laid down on either side of you and as they settled down, you felt a new sense of calm wash over you.

"Rest up, love," Simon said. "I think we might have pushed it a bit too much after all."

"It's fine," you mumbled, feeling drowsy. "I liked it. We should do it again some time."

Johnny chuckled. "I'm sure we will."

It got quiet, and you felt yourself slip into a slumber, held closely between them, warm and snug. But just before you fell asleep, you thought you heard them speak.

"LT." "Hm?" "What happens next?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, is this a thing now? I know you said this was to get it out of our systems, but I honestly don't think we achieved that." A sigh. "I know." "So what happens next?" "Dunno. We'll sleep on it, Johnny. Talk about it in the morning." "Mm. Good idea. G'night, I guess." "Night."

tagging: @deadbranch @argella1300

#cod mw2 fic #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Ugh, Whimsical!reader x James (not together yet) where anytime she says something he just has the most lovesick look on his face and Sirius is like “we’ve lost him, boys” but then reader quips back with something about looking at those you’re comfortable and friendly with boosts your seratonin and you’re glad to have James look at you if it makes him happy

Thanks for requesting babe!

James Potter x whimsical!reader ♡ 932 words

“You seem like you’re feeling better today, Remus,” you say, passing him a cup of tea. You give one to Sirius, too, then James. It’s got a couple of little flowers floating on the top, James notices. Adorable.

Remus looks a bit caught offguard. “I am, thanks. How’d you know?”

“Your aura’s looking less gray than usual.”

Sirius snickers. “Just like you to have a gray aura, Moons. Boring.”

You settle on the couch beside James, crossing your legs underneath you. “I don’t think Remus is boring,” you say, voice soft and airy as dandelion fluff. “His color often just looks a tad sapped. It’s bluer today.”

Remus seems to perk up a bit at your appraisal. He does look well, James thinks, but your noticing improves his color even more. Remus doesn’t like being viewed like a helpless, afflicted lamb, and you never have treated him like one, save whatever you put in his tea (it takes a few minutes longer to make than the rest of yours, though James pretends not to notice).

James watches you watching Remus, and his heart gives a happy little throb. You’re so kind, considerate in ways which you play off as incidental, but he can see the effort you put into taking care of the people in your life. He doesn’t know how you know half the things you do, but you’re always looking out for them. He’ll be waiting for Sirius to come home late at night and you’ll text to ask if everything is okay, or Remus will be having one of his worse days and you’ll show up unannounced with chocolates and juniper bound with twine to “cleanse” their flat, whatever that means. Or when James was sick with the flu a few weeks ago, and Remus and Sirius both swore they hadn’t said a word to you but he’d woken from a nap to find you sitting beside him with soup and a very strong elderberry tea. He’s fairly sure your presence had healed him just as much as the sustenance. You have that effect on him.

“Do we all have auras?” Sirius asks, and James comes out of his reverie to find his friend watching him with a poorly concealed smirk. He supposes he’s had that look on his face again. Lovestruck.

“Of course.” You give Sirius a funny smile, like this should be obvious. “Everyone has an aura,” you say, “we just can’t all see it all of the time.”

“What’s yours look like?” James asks.

Your lips part in surprise as you turn to look at him, your knee bumping his thigh. “I can’t see my own. I’d have to ask someone else.”

“What about mine?” Sirius asks.

You turn back to him. James feels the loss. “Right now, it’s mostly orange.”

“Right now?”

“Yours shifts a lot. A couple of minutes ago, it was pinker.” You tilt your head, considering. “You’re very sunset-y today, Sirius.”

Sirius grins, and James knows that whatever his friend may think about auras, he’s going to carry that compliment with him for the rest of the week. “And what about our Jamesie? What’s his aura like?”

“Oh, James’ almost never changes.” You look over at him with a small smile on your face. Maybe James is flattering himself, but he feels as though there’s a faintly secretive quality to it, like some part of your smile is just for him. “His is always yellow. Though I have been noticing a bit more red than usual lately.”

James isn’t sure he can speak with your eyes on him like this. You’re so lovely it’s choking him. Thankfully, Remus comes to his aid.

“Is that a good thing?” he asks. “It shifting, I mean.”

You don’t turn away from James like he expects you’re going to. You hold his gaze, that smile broadening just slightly. It has all the soft radiance of moonlight.

“I don’t think so,” you say. “It’s not making him any less himself, it only means that something has changed.”

“Good god,” Sirius stage-whispers to Remus. “Look at him, we’ve lost him completely. Bet it gets redder every time he looks at her.”

“It does, a little.” Your eyes flit upwards, presumably to colors which he can’t see but he imagines his face is starting to match. “It might be the serotonin boost. Looking at people you care about will do that.” You set a hand on top of his, thumb stroking over the knuckle of his pinkie finger. James’ mouth is a desert. “I’m happy to have James look at me if it makes him happy.”

Sirius lets out a short laugh. “I’m sure it does, sweetheart. He’s—”

Remus must elbow him, because he goes blessedly silent.

“I’ve been wondering,” Remus says mildly, “do you give us different kinds of tea? They always look different from each other.”

“Oh, yes.” You finally break your gaze away from James’, but your hand stays atop his. It’s hardly a whisper of a touch, and yet he’s very concerned you’re somehow absorbing every thought and feeling he’s having through some freaky osmosis. It doesn’t seem wholly out of the realm of possibility for you. “I make them with different ingredients for each of you.”

Sirius quirks an eyebrow. “In that case, can I try a new one next time? This one tastes a bit like dirt.”

You shrug, nonplussed. “If you like, but it might not do as much for you.”

“What do you put in them?” Remus asks curiously.

You take a sip of your own tea. “Just what you need.”

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princessbrunette · 9 days

Text

you wasn’t sure what to expect from your toxic ex boyfriend rafe when you finally caved and let him fuck you again. you told yourself it was a selfish act, that he was only getting what he wanted because you let him — but after sex was when you were the most vulnerable.

he’d been alluding to it for weeks, practically stalking you wherever you went to just stare you down and shove away any guy that spoke to you. you’re talking parties, the country club, even making an appearance at the restaurant bar alone when you were out to dinner with your family. rafe cameron had eyes everywhere, and those eyes were all set on making it impossible for you to move on.

you’d given in when he’d cornered you at the country club when you were a glass of wine down, surely knowing it was the best time to convince you. wine made you horny, too easy, and whilst you could deny all you wanted — the thing you needed the most was for your psycho ex boyfriend to have you on your back, cumming around his cock.

so you’d let him drive you back to tannyhill, let him lean over at the red stop light to put his tongue in your mouth, ringed fingers cupping and fondling your soaked cunt beneath your sundress until the light went green and cars were honking. let him walk you to his front door with a hand on your ass and his mouth at your ear telling you that you knew where home was, and that you knew no one could make you moan as pretty as he could. you let him bounce you on his dick until you were overstimulated and crying, teardrops splashing on his tanned abdomen as he threatens to cum inside you and trap you with him forever. it’s only the after math you didn’t feel too in control anymore, curled on your side as you catch your breath in fetal position.

he hadn’t made a move to scoop you up and cuddle you. honestly, he didn’t know if that was allowed. instead, stupidly he wakes you out of your sleepy haze with his voice.

“alright, up. c’mon kid.” he shuffles, sitting up against the headboard and your heart sinks. you don’t dare question, or argue and humiliate yourself — simply forcing yourself to sit up, disorientated and reaching for your dress.

“‘kay. sorry.” you whisper, and you despise the way your voice cracks, tears fat in your eyes as you work your arms through your dress to pull it on over your body. you shouldn’t have come here, all that work to move on destroyed within the space of a few hours just for him to kick you out when he got what he wanted.

“wh— hey, ‘fuck are you talkin’ about huh?” he scooches towards you, grabbing your hands to stop your movements. you gaze at him in upset confusion and he realises his mistake and softens just a tad. “i mean get up and go pee… okay? always make you pee after i fuck you i — i don’t know why you’re…” he shakes his head, trailing off as he watches you melt in relief, still equally embarrassed. “look at me.” he commands quietly and solemnly and you do so, a shameful gaze through your lashes.

he sighs out his nose, shuffling to a better spot to be able to cup your cheek with that same boyish but charming roughness he so often carried. “i’m not going to just kick you out, okay — i… i am proactively trying to show you that i’m not the bad guy here. shit, if it was up to me i’d never let you leave this house but uh… know you’re gonna come to your senses soon enough.” there’s a tinge of sadness in his tone that makes your heart twitch with sympathy, your brows knitting harder as you stare up at him, waiting for him to continue. “but… for now… m’tryna look after you… right? so… so go pee and then you get your ass back in here. wanna hold you n’shit.”

he gives your ass a little pat as you stand, busying himself with finding a pair of sweatpants to pull on, glancing over at you as you hobble shyly to the bathroom like you’d never been to his place before. he hated to admit it, but he was just as emotional and sensitive as you were at times.

when you’re out the room, he sniffs— talking to himself manically in a self deprecating whisper. “god — i suck. man up. she’s yours, alright — just - just gotta remind her.” he tells himself quietly through grit teeth as he pulls the grey material up his legs.

rafe was going to make you his again, and this time he would go to any length to keep you.

#rafe cameron prompt #toxicex!rafe #exbf!rafe #tbh he’s not too toxic here

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lattenha · 8 months

Text

TERRIBLE TWOS — P. SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS! A rash decision on your end causes you and Sunghoon to break up. What you think is for the best turns out to be the complete opposite, actually. Cue two years later when a random encounter with your ex forces you to revisit past feelings that has never quite fully departed from either of you. PAIRING! Chairman!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader WC! 11.4k (Got carried away)

GENRE/CW! Exes getting back together, fluff, slight angst if you squint, smut (fingering, brief mentions of fem oral receiving, sunghoon has a 7 inch cock; i headcanon that, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, lots of tongue kissing), swearing, reader is in denial just a tad bit, ft. non-idol!yunjin, reader is a struggling fine arts major, etc. MDNI

A/N: originally, i intended for this to be a simple one shot but it somehow turned out to be greater than that in the end lol. this was also my first attempt at writing smut; i've always wanted to try it but damn is it kinda hard. i feel like the title doesn't match or capture the story as good but whatever-- it used to be called 'seasons,' yet that didn't make sense either so... terrible twos it is! i hope you enjoy <3

“Y/n?”

A trace of uncertainty laces the man's voice, his mind racing with the possibility that he might have mistaken a stranger for someone from his past. Internally, he winces at the prospect of this awkward mix-up, dreading such an encounter with a random person. He clings to the hope that his intuition proves accurate.

Could it really be her? Amid the bustling crowd, she always managed to stand out, an unmistakable aura surrounding her. Her presence eclipsed even the most vibrant of settings, radiating a unique energy that outshone a field of flowers.

When he tentatively calls out her name in a hushed tone, she spins around on her heel, and for an ephemeral moment, Sunghoon feels as though he's stepped into a scene from a classic romance film.

Time stills and so does he.

Each of your movements steals his breath away. The way your hair dances in harmony with the wind, and how your eyelashes cast the most delicate shadow upon your high cheekbones. Your gradual unveiling leaves him struggling to swallow past an inexplicable lump in his throat.

Sunghoon notices the moment your eyes widen. Behind those enchanting orbs, he discerns a flicker of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. During your time together, he had the uncanny ability to read those emotions hidden within the depths of your eyes.

“Sunghoon…” You say no louder than a mere whisper that could easily get lost in the summer’s wind that passes through the both of you.

Your heart throbs in your chest. The biological response is far too overwhelming that you can feel your stomach tying itself in double knots. You think you might need to be pointed to the nearest bathroom so you can barf up the swarm of butterflies that disturb your system. No doubt, does crossing paths with an ex whom you share a long history with manage to do that to you.

“H-how are you?” You’re the first to strike up a conversation despite that being Sunghoon’s unspoken responsibility.

How am I? Sunghoon has to brace himself to collect his messy thoughts.

“I’m pretty good, and yourself?”

His response is curt and short. In any other setting, he would have elaborated on his answer but he wasn’t sure how much information was too much to reveal to an ex regarding the state of his well-being. You nod at his words, not really expecting much nor having high hopes that he would give you more to work with in this conversation of playing catch-up between an ex.

See, your relationship ended amicably, with both of you acknowledging that the spark kindled between you two had faded out. With your mind elsewhere, too focused on your academics (so you like to say), and Sunghoon preparing to inherit his family’s business, there was little room for romance in either of your daily routines. Your typical weekend dates were swapped out for meetings with major corporations and other soon-to-be-chairman-related activities so that he could fully understand what the rest of his future held for him.

Even though you missed having your boyfriend's undivided attention, you refused to act as a temporary roadblock that prevented him from making significant progress. Despite your heart and brain being at war with each other, you made the conscious decision to slowly back down from being his lover and tucked your face in the pages of your academic textbooks.

With Sunghoon too busy to even acknowledge that his girlfriend was distancing herself from him, you were the first to come forward, bearing the news that breaking up would be the optimal solution to your and his fading presence in one another’s lives.

That night when you bid goodbye, he felt half his heart shatter inside of him. Little did you know that you carried the other part wherever you went, but now that you were no longer capable of sheltering that missing piece, it almost made him want to die inside more than just a tad bit— a lot, actually.

He pretended to play it cool as your back turned to him and he watched you retreat to your car, feeling both helpless and defeated. With an unflinching countenance, a tightly clenched jaw, and fingers gripped at his sides, Sunghoon longed for his feet to have chased after you, preventing your departure from his life. He yearned to undo whatever had driven you away, to rewrite his mistakes and reshape your shared history.

Sadly, not even the first star in the sky he saw at night could grant him something as demanding as that.

On the contrary, had those things happened, he wouldn’t be here today on a Thursday afternoon rekindling a connection that got tossed up in the air and fell through his fingertips.

“I—“ Before you get a chance to deliver your sentence Sunghoon’s hold on your arm prompts him to draw you to his chest.

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, eyes simultaneously widening for the second time thanks to a certain ex. You look up at the taller one with crinkled brows. A mixture of confusion and a looming feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach that hasn’t quite left, tugging at your heartstrings. His intoxicating scent of Dior Sauvage is all too overwhelming for your nose to take in. You swear your head could start spinning any minute now.

He’s so close to you. You’re so close to him. If someone were to come by and accidentally bump into you, you would be pressed up against his chest, breaking what limited distance is keeping you two apart.

A bike rider disrupting pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk whizzes by, obnoxiously ringing the bell attached to their handlebar as if they aren’t to be blamed for riding on the concrete pavement, and it’s only then do you realize that Sunghoon was protecting you from getting hit. His body relaxes once he declares that it’s safe for you to comfortably stand in the open from any oncoming obstructions.

“Sorry… acted on impulse.” His grasp on you immediately retreats to the inside of his pant pockets and you swear that his touch leaves a ghosting sensation on your skin.

Sunghoon refuses to meet your lingering gaze, eyes averting to some random couple walking their dog across the street from where the two of you are standing. It’s almost funny how he fully believed two years ago that one day both of you would be exactly like that: dog owners who take their beloved fur baby on walks together and enjoy the simplicity of the little things that a relationship has to offer.

“It’s okay, thank you,” You murmur, unsure of where things should go from here.

A beat of silence comes and goes before Sunghoon has the chance to take the initiative to prove he’s different from his past self.

The past self you witnessed throughout the duration of your shared romanticism. The past self who failed to convince you to stay because he never wanted you to leave his side. What he wanted was to work things out and to understand what he could do to change and make things better for the two of you.

Even if that meant you breaking up with him first to realize this.

“Listen, why don’t we…” He suddenly starts. Sunghoon analyzes your face and when your features evidently show that you’re all ears for what he has to say, he takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Get dinner. Together.“

Although the question comes out more like a demand rather than a request, you’re slightly taken aback because you were almost certain Sunghoon probably resents you for the breakup— at least that’s what you tell yourself— and that he doesn’t want any business involving you entering his life for a repeat performance. The only different thing is that you’re his ex.

Can you blame him? It was so sudden.

The concealed hurt he tried to mask but failed to do so when you told him you wanted to end things, hoping it’d be left on good terms, rambling about how much you do and will continue to care for him no matter what he does in life or who he chooses to love after you. It seems you did more talking than he got the chance to, and Sunghoon wasn’t sure if you had this all planned leading up to that moment, or if he should’ve seen it coming.

Whatever it was, Sunghoon could never hate or repent you, but you’re no telepathic mind-reader and wouldn’t know how he feels about you now unless you asked.

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you ponder the idea of sitting in a fancy restaurant with Sunghoon and sharing a long conversation over an expensive meal that is highly overpriced for its ridiculously small portions.

“On one condition,” You quip. Sunghoon gestures for you to keep going and you clear your throat. “No five-star Michelin places, okay? I just want a simple dinner to make up for lost time.”

The older male chuckles, nodding his head sensibly. If there’s one thing Sunghoon learned about you is that you were never hard to please and preferred the opposite of a high-end luxury lifestyle that he naturally grew up with.

“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8, how’s that sound?”

“That’s perfect but um—“ you purse your lips. “Do you… Do you still remember where I live?”

“Of course. It would take a lot more than time and distance apart from each other, for me to forget your every being.”

Sunghoon leans in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The underlying intimacy hiding beneath his actions has you contemplating what the course of your relationship would have looked like for the two of you, had you not broken up with a man as sweet and thoughtful as him.

Was calling it quits between you two a mistake? Should you have stuck it out just a little longer?

You can only shove those thoughts to the farthest point in the back of your mind and recenter your focus to the handsome ravenette.

Sunghoon, sporting a warm grin that gradually grows into a pearly white showcase of his perfect teeth and adorable canines, makes it worth marveling if second chances are a thing that people still stand by.

The next evening, Sunghoon unexpectedly arrived at your front door 20 minutes ahead of your readiness. While you were trying to situate yourself into your cami dress that paired well with the current season, a knocking sound coming from the entrance to your studio unit startled you in its wake. You tapped on the screen of your phone to check the time and crinkled your nose when the numbers staring back at you read 7:40.

Sunghoon’s habit of arriving for an occasion earlier than expected was not unusual for his character. The taller's mannerisms crept into other facets of his social life after years of being trained to believe that "early is on time" and "on time is late." However, 20 minutes ahead of schedule was definitely new to you, and part of you can’t help but think if this is stemming from anxiety or if that’s just you projecting your nerves onto his much early arrival.

“Just a sec!” You struggled to reach for the zipper to your dress, stress-sweating due to the pressure of having to rush through the rest of your routine.

After what felt like a millennia you finally managed to seal yourself shut into your attire and scurried to the front door where poor Sunghoon was waiting for you to answer.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get to the zipper of my dress and I don’t think me flashing you or my neighbors in semi-public is socially acceptable.” You awkwardly laugh, strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck and forehead from the accumulated sweat you managed to produce.

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head at your guilty tendency to overshare too much information for the dramatics.

“No worries. I know I showed up earlier than expected. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.” He smiles softly and for a second it almost slips your mind that you’re no longer romantically involved with each other.

Oh, how you wish you could leap at him and smother the dashing man with kisses all over his Greek god-like, beautiful face…

“Here,” The taller unveils a bouquet of flowers that he attempted (underline, attempted) to hide behind his back. In reality, you could already see bits of it peeking out but chose to play coy about the item he was holding back from giving you.

You fawn at the striking arrangement of tulips that come in different shades of the prettiest of pinks. Tulips. Of course, he would remember that those are your favorite. His words from yesterday ring in your ears, and believing them, you truly start to confide that Sunghoon could never boot you out of his memory as easy as a snap of his fingers.

“The prettiest bunch of flowers for the prettiest girl.” Sunghoon cautiously says, unsure if that would be stepping a line. To be fair, there isn’t an official handbook on what you should or shouldn’t say to an ex— except for some of the more common phrases; whatever that may be.

You let out a lighthearted laugh at the bold, yet cheesy, compliment and invited Sunghoon into the safe haven of your apartment, ignoring the way your heart practically skipped a beat when he said that.

He’s been here on plentiful occasions so he’s really no stranger to the arrangement of your flat and could probably draw out an entire floor plan if he wanted to. At one point he almost committed to the thought of moving in with you, but you were a firm believer that it would be best if he stuck to the minimalist mansion he decorated himself; it was passed down to him from none other than his father. Needless to say, Sunghoon was a pouty puppy that day.

“I’m almost ready I promise.” You say. “I just need to add some finishing touches and then I’m all yours for the night.” Immediately your hands fly to your mouth when realization dawns on you about the delivery of your words.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, and luckily, you miss the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his plump lips teasingly.

“You know what I mean!” You panic, waving off the metaphorical atmosphere that surrounds both of you.

You excuse yourself and escape to your room as the tips of your ears start to flush with embarrassment.

Once the door leading to your bedroom shuts behind you with a mellow thud, your back presses up against the surface of the entryway. A loud sigh that you weren't even aware you were repressing since Sunghoon arrived breaks out past your tinted lips. With your mind a foggy mess and your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, you’re under the impression that you resemble the stereotypical anime school girl the way your entire demeanor changes when you’re around him.

But that’s the thing.

It’s only Sunghoon.

It’s just Sunghoon.

So what if you guys dated in high school and partially during college? So what if he was the first and only guy you’ve been with, and even though you have no one to compare him to, he would still be the best ex you could ever have? So what if you regret breaking up with him because you got ahead of yourself and refused to be transparent with him?

So what if you want him back…

You pat both sides of your cheeks to wake yourself from a philosophical dilemma. you refuse to go down a rabbit hole of emotions especially when you’re about to go out to dinner.

You shuffle through your wardrobe in search of a certain pair of Converse that a special someone gave to you as a birthday gift. When you find it neatly stored away in its original packaging and the box that it came in you’re almost too eager to slip your feet into the collar of the Chuck Taylor’s.

You halt in your steps when you reach your vanity and grab your everyday bottle of perfume, spritzing one pump, then two, then three, and four more of the floral scent, that you’re showering yourself in it at this point.

When you've deemed that you’re completely ready and satisfied with your appearance for the evening, you exit the inviting comfort of your cozy chambers. Sunghoon’s back is facing you as you ascend into the living room. You can’t make out much of what he’s doing and he’s seemingly too preoccupied to notice your footsteps stalk across the wooden paneling. His neck is craned downward looking at something on the decorative table where you have a neat arrangement of framed pictures.

“You still have this?” He turns around revealing the photograph that he was referring to, now in his possession. There’s a distant glimmer of emotion that you can’t quite make out peeking around the curves of his irises.

You let out a resigned sigh.

You’ve been caught red-handed for leaving a single trace of the past out in the open.

Of all the furniture and miscellaneous objects that collect dust on different surfaces in your flat, Sunghoon chose to go for the photograph of you and him standing under a cherry blossom tree in Ilsan Park. Your arm was hooked around his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulder. The brightest of smiles stretched across your faces as petals danced around you. It was the perfect moment captured in stillness and you wish you could leap through pictures to relive that special day. A distant memory that feels like it happened not too long ago.

“I couldn’t get rid of it. It’s— That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.” You simply explain.

It was true, because out of all of the selfies, candid photos, and other pictures you shared together with Sunghoon, your date to Ilsan Park remained your number one core memory as a couple.

You watch intently as Sunghoon places the photo back where it originally belonged on the console.

“I think that’s one of my favorites, too.” He says as a matter of fact. “That or the one where we went to Lotte World and wore matching uniforms together.” The taller laughs.

You giggled, the recollection of your amusement park date flashing across your mind. You dragged him to go on each and every attraction with you as he stumbled in your tracks, struggling to keep up with your social battery. You felt like two high schoolers in love at the ripe age of 20 because being with Sunghoon gave you the impression that you were your 15-year-old self again.

“I like that one as well! I thought I looked pretty cute in that uniform.” You grin sheepishly.

Sunghoon chuckles and it causes you to whip your head to survey him. His eyes crinkle before they’re no longer crescent and back to their original doe-eyed shape.

“You’re still cute, y’know that?”

The comment sends your heart ablaze along with the blood that rushes to the surface of your cheeks. You can only hope that the thin layer of makeup and blush you applied is strong enough to camouflage the effect that sunghoon has on you. It’s no secret that he was always a smooth talker and still is. It makes you wonder if he’s ever used that flirtatious skill on other women he’s come across after you— or if he has.

You tut your tongue at him and reach for your crossbody purse draped on the couch that you lazily tossed aside yesterday after coming home.

“Ready, m’lady?” Sunghoon twists the knob and pushes the front door open, supporting the weight with his broad frame to keep it from closing in on you two when you exit.

“Wait!” You pip, halting in your steps. You briskly retreat to your room and grab the bouquet of tulips you left on the side table next to your bed.

You scurry over to Sunghoon, cradling the arrangement of florals like it was your baby. The haired boy opens his mouth to say something but you’re too fast to retort,

“I wanna show it off. They’re too pretty to be left at home.”

He nods and motions his hand for you to leave the unit first. The taller gives himself a mental pat on the back for inquiring in a floral shop before coming to retrieve you for dinner.

Tulips are a girl’s best friend, after all. For you, at least.

Coincidentally dinner happens to occur at the one restaurant you frequently visited when you and Sunghoon were dating. It was a simple ma and pa spot only locals in the area knew of. They were popularly known for their cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup. You like to think of it as a secret only two of you know about and continue to gatekeep it from your friends or families from ever coming across of it.

The owners grew familiar with both of you through your frequent visits and friendly conversations. your rapport with them resulted in a warm welcome every time you returned, often accompanied by a generous discount as a token of their appreciation. Since your last visit to their restaurant, a while has gone by, and you both have been overdue to make an appearance at the restaurant.

“Aigoo, Sunghoon-ah, it’s been so long!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, wearing the biggest and brightest smile that brings out the crinkles in her complexion when she notices two familiar faces. “And Y/n, it’s good to see you too!” She turns to you with the same mien still permanently plastered on her face.

You bow your head. Her contagious smile has you mirroring her grin.

“Come, come, sit.” She waves her hand for the two of you to follow in her trail as she leads both of you to your— undesignated but designated— table that you and Sunghoon would constantly sit at.

Before you even have a chance to pull out your chair, Sunghoon beats you to it with surprising swiftness. The aged wood scrapes gently against the floor as he courteously pulls the chair back for you. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you appreciate this chivalrous gesture, unable to contain a soft giggle of delight.

Mrs. Kim watches the interaction between the two of you and smirks, completely out of the loop that you have broken up; still under the assumption that you’re both dating to this day. Who could blame her when in her eyes you were the perfect missing piece for one another in this world like you were made for each other from the start.

“The usual?” She asks despite already knowing the answer to her question.

“Yes please,” Sunghoon nods.

He sits after folding his blazer in half so that it can rest neatly on the chair's backrest. To add some fuel to the flame, he unbuttons the cuffs to his long sleeves and rolls them past his forearms so that they stop an inch below his elbows. The expensive watch that rests snugly on his wrist glistens, almost blinding you. You’re reminded that the man sitting across from you is responsible for an entire company under his name and capable of powerful things.

You gulp. You feel like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be and instead take an interest in the condiments that are pushed to the side of your table.

Soy sauce, vinegar, napkins…

When you think that you’re ready to re-center your attention onto Sunghoon once your racing heart has calmed down from its high, the taller has his eyes closed as he combs his fingers through his hair. His lips are parted ever so slightly and there’s a shine to his plush tiers.

He has to be doing this on purpose now.

You watch the way his Adam apple bobs when he swallows and you swear it should be a sin to look this effortlessly good in warm overhead lighting.

You huff, a little too audibly for the male across from you to hear and his doe eyes flutter open. The sudden eye contact catches you off guard and you’re struggling to maintain yourself from the tension your mind is projecting. You shift around in your chair trying to find a more comfortable position.

This is going to be a long dinner.

After Mrs. Kim returned with your delectable dishes, the food vanished quickly as you guys delved into stories and shared the exciting highlights of your respective journeys. You and Sunghoon spent the rest of your meal at the table reminiscing about the past two years including the many ups and downs you’ve dealt with.

You learned that a month after your breakup, Sunghoon’s father officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company to his son as the new successor. The ravenette confided in you, revealing that even though he had been groomed for this role his whole life, the transition wasn't as smooth as he had envisioned. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Taking charge of a major company brought with it a level of pressure he had never experienced before. The expectations were high, both from the company's board and the employees who had known him since he was young.

As he grappled with the complexities of his new position, Sunghoon couldn't help but reminisce about a simpler life. He missed the carefree moments he used to share with you, the laughter, and the ease of his unannounced visits when he would turn up at your door with snacks he bought from the corner store and canned beer.

Eventually his determination and drive to persevere kept him standing strong in the face of these obstacles. With his family behind him, a supportive workforce, and you in the back of his mind, he knew he had people to look back on and make them proud.

You praised the older for his character development, gushing at his transition from uncertainty to confidence, while sympathizing with the initial troubles he first started off with. Being a chairman at his age is bound to weigh heavily on his mental and emotional health, and you can’t help but wish that you had stayed by his side through it all in order to be that support pillar he needed at immediacy.

“So, what about you? I didn’t really get to hear your answer yesterday.” Sunghoon asks.

You blinked. “Me? Well, uhm…”

A bubble of insecurity creeps into your stomach. Your mind races through a mental checklist of your own achievements, or rather, the lack thereof, especially when compared to Sunghoon’s impressive journey. While your lives have taken very drastically different paths, you can’t shake the feeling that at the end of the day, the two of you are worlds apart from each other. He’s the chairman of a highly respected company. And you? You’re just a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. A pursuit that feels miles away from Sunghoon’s milestones.

During the period that he was absent from your everyday life, all you managed to build was your art portfolio, which you eagerly sent to numerous galleries in a desperate bid to gain recognition as a struggling artist. Rejection letters became an all too familiar sight, each offering the same hollow praise— impressed but not interested. Those were dark times, where self-doubt loomed large.

Thankfully, your situation started to improve when you summoned the courage to step out of your comfort zone. You took to social media, opening art accounts on Instagram and Twitter, and sharing your artistic odyssey on TikTok. Yunjin, one of your closest friends and best friend since middle school, commissioned you to paint a mural inside a cafe she was working at. “I begged my boss for this to happen!” She said enthusiastically over the phone the night she asked you for the favor. Everything to you was a leap of faith, a glimmer of hope that prompted you to fully believe in the light at the end of every tunnel.

In spite of your situation turning out for the better, it was impossible to ignore the inescapable sense of solitude and loneliness that clung to you like a shadow. It followed you everywhere you went. A mental reminder that, no matter how bright life was starting to seem, you still felt trapped and not completely content with yourself.

You convey these exact thoughts and feelings to Sunghoon in a messy ramble, hoping that this unintentional therapy session you’ve turned dinner into won’t scare him off. You can only hope that you’re not ruining the evening with a sob story of another art kid struggling to make a name for themselves in a society, where choosing art as a career path is at a greater disadvantage in comparison to your stronger counterparts.

When you find yourself coming to the end of your rant, a wave of silence washes over the table, and you grab the nearest cup of water to gulp from. Ignoring the condensation that sweats around the glass and soils your palms. Your eyes look everywhere, purposefully avoiding Sunghoon and the tragic visage he’s probably giving you right about now.

“Y/n, look at me.”

You raise your head, complying to his soft demand.

“I’m proud of you,” he begins, and in that instant, a surge of emotion that has been suppressed for far too long wells up within you. “It takes a lot of courage and willpower to continue to follow a path you’re uncertain of.” The comment makes Sunghoon chuckle dryly, closely reminded of himself, shaking his head. “But look at you, you’re doing so great.”

The warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes— they combine like a gentle storm, and suddenly, tears brim your eyes, begging to spill over. Your vision is splotchy and you refuse to blink, save for ruining your mascara. You weren’t planning on being an emotional wreck tonight, especially over dinner with your ex.

“I understand how hard it must have been dealing with those struggles alone, and I wish I was there by your side to help support you when it happened.” Sunghoon continues. He pauses to take in a breath before resuming, “But I’m here now… I’m not going anywhere, and if you’d let me— I want back into your life again, Y/n.”

A solitary tear breaks free, followed by another, and then another, until suddenly your eyes unleash a torrent of waterworks like a relentless downpour from a stormy sky. You hide your face in a handful of napkins you hastily grabbed, unaware that Sunghoon got up to move from his seat and slipped into the chair next to yours. His touch catches you off guard but you immediately relax as he guides you into his embrace, allowing you to hide yourself in his arms; your face tucked away in his chest. He caresses your hair, his slender fingers thread through your styled locks as he lulls you to comfort from your shaken state.

The two of you stay rooted in that position until you confidently and mentally reassure yourself that you are okay; you’re going to be okay. Your breathing has calmed down from its high and returned to a normal, healthy rate as your tears subsided and are non-existent.

No longer conscious of your makeup— a matter far from substantial to care for anymore— you wipe away the mess around your eyes. Black clumps of mascara and some concealer transfer onto the napkin. Seeing the stains garner a weak laugh to emit from you. Sunghoon cranes his neck to survey what you’ve become engrossed with. He sees the ruined makeup and laughs lightly into your hair.

You’re thankful that there aren’t many customers dining in tonight and that it’s just you, Sunghoon, and three other parties who are far too busy drinking, conversing, and laughing amongst themselves to acknowledge the young couple tucked away in the corner.

Mrs. Kim leads both you and Sunghoon out of the restaurant with a warmth akin to a grandmother bidding her grandchildren farewell, her heartfelt wish for your safe return home evident in her loving smile.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Kim. Thank you, again, for another delicious dinner.” Sunghoon bows at a 90-degree angle and the formality stirs a boisterous laugh from the frail old lady. You mimic his actions, also expressing your gratitude for the lovely meal and free dessert she served to you guys ‘on the house.’

“When you guys come back I better see a wedding ring on her finger, Sunghoon-ah.” Mrs. Kim scolds lightly. You almost choke on your own saliva at the remark, coughing awkwardly to cover up your bewilderment. Sunghoon does his best to maintain his composure for the sake of the elder’s oblivion.

“You guys disappear for two years and still no diamond in sight. I was hoping some big change happened!” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, crossing her arms.

Sunghoon dips his head again in an apologetic manner. “You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.”

You whack the taller’s arm giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look, eyebrows scrunched with perplexity. The last thing you want is to continue to feed into Mrs. Kim’s false reality that the two of you are still a couple. Who’s to say that Sunghoon isn’t actually on the same page as you and everything is just a facade? I mean, sure, he’s been flirty here and there, bought you flowers, comforted you at dinner, and practically asked you to take him back…

Your trust in Sunghoon has clearly waned, a result of your fluctuating self-confidence that leads you to confide in the pessimistic "what ifs." Your clouded judgment and self-doubt gnaw at your thoughts, casting doubt on the possibility of a reunion between the two of you.

Sunghoon ignores the daggers slicing at the left side of his face and the buzzing pain you inflicted on him from the harsh impact of your hand. His digits dig gently into your side, drawing you closer to him. You stumble ever so slightly and flash an unconvincing awkward smile to the old lady.

You situate yourselves into the driver and passenger seats of his Hyundai Ioniq. You’re quiet when you pull the seat belt over your upper half, and for the first 10 minutes, not a single word was uttered from either you or the male sitting behind the wheel. Your mind loiters as you watch the building lights illuminating the dark troposphere of Seoul whizz by at 2x speed.

You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.

Yeah right… You almost roll your eyes but catch yourself prolonging the idea of a hypothetical engagement and wedding ceremony with Sunghoon as your groom.

Would he have gone down on one knee to propose to you had both of you remained lovers?

You shake the contemplation loose from your prefrontal cortex.

“Is it okay if I roll the window down?” You’re the first to break the ice. Sunghoon nods, his attention still focused on the road in front of him. Without looking, his fingers find the car’s air-con button to turn it off and he gives you the ‘go’ to proceed with your desire.

The tempered glass descends and you’re immediately greeted with the beating rush of the summertime air. You giggle and rest your arms on the weatherstrip trimming of the Hyundai, your head poking out like an excited dog who’s riding in the car with its tongue hanging from its mouth. You close your eyes, taking in the wind that messes with your hair and brushes past your skin. It’s enough to transcend you into a different headspace, almost forgetting that you’re in a moving vehicle and not on some speedboat skidding across the water in Europe.

Sunghoon looks your way, unable to suppress the natural smile that lights up his face whenever he sees you. You truly are a surge of energy he needs when he wants to uplift himself if he’s feeling down. You’re his happy pill— so much so, that he wishes he could keep a chibi version of you for him to carry in the pocket square of his suits and let you rome on the wooden surface of his office desk to help him get through the work day. It’s silly and love-sickening, but Sunghoon only knows how to act a fool with you around him.

His fingers drum against the padding of the steering wheel, waking you from your daydream. You hadn’t realized that you’ve already made it back to the city and are soon approaching your apartment complex. Your neighborhood is only a couple of turns away from your current destination as the two of you sit at a red light. You roll the window up, at least it was fun for the duration it endured.

When he pulls up on the side of the street in front of your building, you try to find some lame excuse to stay with him for another minute longer, not wanting to say goodnight to him. You’re scared that this evening will be a one-off event and you'll return to your old ways, enveloped once more in the arms of self-isolation that consumes you completely.

Your grip on the door handle tightens.

“Sunghoon,” you shift your view in his direction. “You don’t mind walking me to my front door, do you?”

The male smiles with his eyes.

“Who am I to not accompany a lady when needed.”

Sunghoon makes quick work to unbuckle himself from the driver’s seat and rounds the front of the car to open the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take, which you generously do so, and grants him the unspoken permission to whisk you away into the levels of your residential building.

The elevator ride is a close resemblance to the trip back to your place, however, there’s a contrasting atmosphere waiting to burst like a champagne bottle and spill over. Sunghoon’s holding your hand the entire way and you don’t resist the notion.

When you approach your unit at the end of the hall, you fish for your keys that are sitting at the bottom of your bag. Sunghoon’s hand slips out of your grasp and you almost whine at the loss of his warmth and touch, but you know he’s only doing it for you to use both free hands to ultimately unlock your door. The click! of the lock coming from the other side is an indication that you can push past the door once the knob is turned.

You stand there, hesitant to enter your own home.

“I guess— this is it?” You murmur tentatively to yourself and the taller. You rock on your heels purposefully stalling time as you force both him and yourself to stare a little longer at the iron numbers detailing your front door.

You let out a rigged breath.

“Tonight was great. The longest I’ve been out of the house in a month, really.” You cringe pathetically at the confession knowing that a month ago Yunjin was the one who pulled you out of bed to get some fresh air and sunlight because you were hiding away like a vampire. "Thank you... Sunghoon, for treating me to dinner and spending the evening with me..."

He remains stoic and unusually quiet, making it challenging to decipher what he’s thinking or feeling. You wish you could enter his mind to get a glimpse of how his brain functions. You’d hate to seem pitiful for hoping that his advances from today were, if at all, genuine.

If what he said at dinner was coming from the heart.

As you contemplate what might be your last encounter with your 'the one who got away,’ Sunghoon astounds you with yet another trick up his sleeve, when he secures your wrist in his delicate grasp. Forever one step ahead of you, his lips collide with yours in a passionate fervent. The only appropriate reaction that you can give him in response is to return the kiss with just as much fervor. The strap to your purse slides off your shoulders and lands below you with a little thud thanks to Sunghoon’s antsy hands pushing it out of the way.

He cages you against the surface of the door, your back bumping into it when he forces the distance between your bodies to dissipate. Bothered by the tiny gap that prevents you from being as close as you possibly can to him. The only active barrier is now the layer of clothing he’s wearing and the tiny dress that nearly clings to your every curve. He can’t wait to impatiently rip you out of it and slip in a “I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”

Your hands find sanctuary in his soft hair. How you missed tugging at their roots when he’d go down on you in bed, on the kitchen counter, and in the shower with your one leg supporting your entire weight as Sunghoon made the other side dangle over his shoulder. Those positions are tempting, and biologically the flashbacks of your sexual activity with the male feed into the expansion of your slick that gradually soils your panties.

You squeeze your thighs together. The pressure of your inner fat is an empty feeling of pleasure that you wish Sunghoon could replace with his tongue, fingers, cock, or all three one at a time. The male notices this cry-for-help and trails his right hand down the sides of your waist. He stops at the lace hemming of the cami dress, bunching the material to provide easy access to your mid-thigh. His fingers dance on your skin, traveling upward ever so slowly in an antagonizing fashion that almost infuriates you for his teasing manner in the heat of the moment.

Sunghoon reluctantly breaks the kiss. The evidence of your already smudged matte lipstick has left a faint trace on his plump tiers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth ready to latch onto the sensitive area he knows best that will cloud every crevice of your mind with nothing but want and lust. At the end of this night, all that you will know is how to be his obedient cocksleeve like the good girl he’s conditioned you into.

The sound of someone clearing their throat on the opposite end of your apartment’s hallway is akin to a record player scratch. You’re grateful that the construction workers, or whoever built this place, designed the structure of your building to be a certain way so that the split-off point from the elevator wasn’t a simple corridor style where you could see both fire exits at each side. Instead, it was more so a wide V-shape.

In other words, no one really caught you and Sunghoon in semi-public eating one another’s faces.

You stop to share a quiet laugh with Sunghoon and ultimately enter the safe space of your flat, out of your neighbors point of view where they could have had a free, front-row seat to some juicy content. The door closes behind you, you can barely get out of your shoes and make it past the front step leading to your living room when Sunghoon’s haste to have you underneath the sheets with him in your bed has you stumbling backward. He catches you before you can register that you would have fallen onto your ass against the hardwood. His lips serve him well, contributing to the situation as a distraction that redirects your every inner thought bubble.

Sunghoon casually kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile alongside yours— the least of his concerns at the moment.

The kiss from outside repeats itself, and this time, Sunghoon can contently resume what he intended to do had another tenant not interrupted the mood. But the voyeurism exploration kink in him would have liked either sequence of events.

His tongue traces a wet stripe up your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You dully bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimper that is sanctioned at the back of your throat, trapped by a surge of lust and anticipation. Sunghoon’s mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear, and his hot breath tickles.

“I wanna hear you, baby.” He slurs. “Don’t be shy on me now.”

Sunghoon’s lips sheathe that sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp. Your shoulders tense at the foreign feeling of his mouth on your body, and you’ve forgotten how good it was to receive a hickey. You relax under his touch when he gives the soft fat of your waist a reassuring squeeze.

His canines graze your skin while he sucks on the same patch, switching interchangeably to lap his tongue at the area when he begins to see a blossom of red and purple hues mix together, creating the prettiest bruise that would surely take more than a couple of days to fully heal. You groan when his teeth apply the right amount of force onto your flesh, leaving indents in their wake. His perverted mind relishes in the fact that only he is capable of marking you in ways that no other man could ever come close to.

He steps back to fully appreciate his canvas, that is you, and the absolute masterpiece that you are to him.

He leans in, pressing another kiss to your lips, this time with a gentler, more tender spirit, devoid of any sloppy motions. It’s delicate, a striking contrast to the heated lip-locking session the two of you were entranced with just moments ago on the other side of your apartment door. His larger palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, making you feel loved and cared for.

Sunghoon lures your tongue into his mouth, clamping his lips around the muscle. He suckles at it, eliciting the cutest whimpers that he missed hearing from you since you’ve been gone.

“Hnngh… Hah,” you pry yourself off of him, a string of your shared saliva connects the two of your equally moist lips.

Your puffy lips shimmer in the moonlight streaming into your livingroom, as if the moon itself decided to play a starring role tonight. You squeeze his bicep, noticing that the muscle has doubled in size since you last touched it. You peer up at the taller through your eyelashes and Sunghoon has to conceal his primal instincts from fucking your throat with his raging hard-on.

Your fingers graze the fabric of his long-sleeve collar, tracing delicate patterns across the black tie donned around his neck. Something about being able to witness a man up close in a suit never failed to provoke a flood of arousal from overwhelming your erogenous zone. Specifically, Sunghoon. It’s a shame— not really— that it eventually has to come off. With a deft touch, you begin to unravel the four-in-hand knot, a testament to Sunghoon’s meticulous self-preparation. The silk unravels, revealing its intricate texture beneath your fingertips.

You assist Sunghoon in removing his suit jacket next, observing it gracefully descend to the floor. You briefly wonder why he's so nonchalant about leaving such an expensive garment on the ground, but he dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. After all, as a chairman, he has the means and privilege to easily replace such clothing items.

You decide that it’s your turn to take the lead for once and initiate another heated session of sultry lip service. Your mouth kisses Sunghoon’s with primal hunger. Teeth clash, and you see no remorse for your hostility sponsored by pent-up sexual frustration and longing for some sort of relief that only Sunghoon can render.

In a poor attempt to unbutton the last layer of clothing that shields Sunghoon’s upper half, your fingers fumble with the small disks that are fastened by the slits. You whine frustratedly against his lips once you realize you’re not making much progress. It is incredibly hard to multitask when your tongue is being manhandled by his.

“Here, lemme do it.“ Sunghoon mutters in a low growl.

He tears open the placket just like he would to a bag of chips, and the buttons you were struggling to relieve him of pop off in ease, taunting you for your lack of efficiency at getting him out of his attire. He wriggles his arms free from the restraints of his sleeves and shrugs the apparel from the summit of his shoulders, allowing the ruined piece to join his suit jacket on the floor.

“Your turn, babe.”

He twirls you around, your back fully pressed against his front as the tent in his pants pokes at your globes. The thrill of his length nestled between your ass spurs you to grind yourself on him, a staggered exhale of his hot breath fans the curvature of your trapezius, prickling your skin. The cotton material of your underwear cultivates a sticky sensation the longer you stay trapped in it.

“S-shit baby, you’re a fucking tease.” Sunghoon grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn his way so that he can seize your lips in an inconsistent kiss. Alternatively, it’s a tongue duel of him wanting to shove the muscular organ down your throat.

“A-ahh,” You moan helplessly.

He yanks the zipper of your dress. The item peels off of your bust, exposing your bare skin and naked torso simultaneously. You have to wriggle your hips past the remaining fabric in order to fully reveal your bare figure to Sunghoon— besides your damp panties that is.

“No bra today? It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen…” Sunghoon taunts.

“N-no…” You squeak, shaking your head.

“No? Use your words baby.”

You turn to face him, your perky mounds that come into his view are a sight for sore eyes. Even in the dark and scant amount of natural lighting from the celestial object in the night sky, is Sunghoon competent at reading your flustered features. How you manage to be cute yet look so lewd all at once is beyond his comprehension.

“I-I didn’t wear a bra because I thought it’d be easier to go without one.” You mumble, telling the truth.

“That’s better,” Sunghoon coos. He pecks your cheek and you smile at the reward.

“Eeek! S-Sunghoon!” You burst into a fit of shared laughter and giggles when said name scoops you into his arms, your body cradled against his chest, as your legs dangled over his one arm while the other supports your back.

“Just practicing when we’re both walking down the aisle at our future wedding.” Sunghoon jests.

Tenderness fills your eyes when you look up at him. He’s joked about the hypothetical conception of marriage twice in the night that you’re fully convinced it wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea. Given that both of you are ready and first rekindle the status of your relationship, of course.

Sunghoon grins. There’s a gentle kindness to his pearly whites, and you reach up to press a chaste kiss to his jawline.

He relocates to your bedroom. Gently, he lays you down on the bed, your body propped up on your forearms, bearing the weight of your upper half. With an unwavering gaze, you study Sunghoon closely, every detail of his expression and every nuance of his presence.

His eyebrows knit and meet in the middle, fixated on undoing his pants to escape from their restraints, followed by his underwear soon after. His stiff member rebounds off his lower abdomen, precum leaking from the mushroom tip. A satisfied exhale leaves his mouth. He stalks over to you with a sly smirk, towering your smaller frame when he crawls on top of the bed, his knees plant themselves into the mattress and his additional weight dips the space where you lay.

You whine when his length ghosts at the expanse of your inner thigh, suspense and arousal continue to bubble inside of you. Sunghoon murmurs for you to lay back. “Make yourself comfortable,” were his initial instructions before hooking the waistband of your panties with his fingers and dragging them below your legs. The undergarment was tossed to the side.

You nibble at your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut when a slender finger circles the perimeter of your labia.

“You’re so wet babe,” Sunghoon purrs.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he slides his index finger through your inner lips, gathering an abundance of your slick to bring to his mouth for a taste. Both eyes flutter open in time to witness Sunghoon suck at the digit drenched with your arousal. The sight is sinfully lewd, nearly too much for you to handle. Your face reddens and you fight the inclination to hide behind your hands.

“You taste so good, too.“ He licks at his lips. “Wanna try?” Sunghoon cocks his head to the side, and you can’t find it in you to turn down his offer when he looks so innocent— yet acts like the devil himself when he’s overcome with lust. You nod your head with approval.

His duality needs to be studied at Harvard, you think in the back of your mind.

Sunghoon plunges his index finger past your hole, triggering your back to arch an inch off the bed. He chuckles lowly and watches as your hands grab desperately at the sheets beneath you to steady your sanity. The singular digit curls inside of you. Your unforeseen shock is vocalized in the form of a moan and Sunghoon repeats the motion several times.

“O-oh my god—“ You gasp.

The ravenette withdraws his finger and taps at your mouth, signaling you to open. You submit to his implicit dictation. Your lips encase his pointer, tongue swirling around it like a piece of sweet candy you’re tasting for the first time.

You bat your eyelashes prettily and moan. “Mmmh…”

“Dirty girl,” Sunghoon sniggers. He retracts his finger and you let it slip past your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.

“Can you please give me your cock now?” You plead with a pout, doing your best impression of an endearing set of puppy eyes.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Let me at least prep you first, baby. How long has it been since you’ve had someone’s cock inside of you, anyways?”

You part your lips but close it just as quickly. To be candid, you've never been one to actively immerse yourself in the 'I'm single' scene. Your only foray into it was with Yunjin, roughly three weeks after your split with Sunghoon. The two of you ventured to a club, but it proved to be a brief endeavor. Within two hours, the fifth shot became a catalyst, turning you into an unending fountain of tears.

“Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry…”

“I’m sorry baby. Did I overstep your boundaries?” Sunghoon cups your face with his right hand, his eyes scan yours, sincerity and concern laced in those chocolate orbs of his.

You stifle a giggle. Of all boundaries he could have crossed he draws the line at asking for your body count and not him fingering you.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asks.

“Nothing just… I think it’s ironic you ask me that now and not before we did all of this.” You motion to your bare bodies when you say ‘this.’

Sunghoon’s ears redden.

“But don’t worry, Hoonie.” You hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer to pepper his face with several reassuring kisses. “I don’t mind it all. Now can you please fuck my brains out!”

Your ex (whatever he is to you at this point) throws his head back to share a quick laugh, shortly pressing his forehead against yours.

Without warning, he buries three fingers in your pussy; your hips twitch at the sentience. They slide in and out without strain and together the two of you watch as he finger fucks your hole to “prep” for his cock. The squelching noise of your juices fill the room in addition to your moaning, and Sunghoon confronts a hurdle of his patience wearing thin, wanting to fuck you senseless.

His digits leave your hole and you whine immediately at the loss. Sunghoon uses the mass quantity of slick as a substitute for lube to lather on his angry cock. He shuffles against the bed, forcing your legs even further apart to fit himself in between them. The stretch burns your muscles but is soon forgotten when the tip of his length is rubbing your folds, occasionally bumping your swollen clit which generates a needy whine.

Sunghoon’s face screws with ecstasy when his shaft inches past your entrance. Your walls hug his length and he whimpers at the tight muscles that suffocate his erection. You squirm under him, tensed and breathing heavily. It’s hard to relax when seven inches feel like it’s splitting you in half after a long hiatus from sex. Sunghoon notices your discomfort and stills his hips from pushing further, allowing you the necessary time to adjust.

“Sorry baby, I know it’s been a while. You can take it, right? Like the good girl you are?”

You nod. He kisses your forehead, cheek, and lips to soothe your anxiety, using his lips as a distraction to keep your mind from zoning in on his cock. He seizes the opportunity to fit the rest of his length inch-by-inch, and you feel like a virgin all over again when the burn of his cock stretching you open is almost too unbearable.

“Sshh, it’ll be alright, baby.” He wipes away a loose tear. “I’m gonna move, tell me when and if it’s too much, okay?”

“O-okay, Hoonie…”

Steadily, Sunghoon recedes his hips, cock following in suit, just enough for the tip to be the only thing that your pussy clenches on. He snaps forward, your boobs jiggle at the motion and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head when he repeatedly thrusts at a steadfast pace. The pain you were once scared of is no longer a fear you have to worry about, as pleasure is the only thing you know how to feel.

“F-faster, harder, p-please Hoon.” You fight through broken moans to let your voice be heard.

“Shit—“ He curses.

Sunghoon’s fingers dig into the plush fat of your waist while his other hand presses into the space of your bed next to the side of your head. His eyebrows knit, focused entirely on increasing the speed of his thrusts. He continues to piston fuck your pussy, abusing your hole in the utmost gratifying procedure. Your thighs jiggle each time that his balls slap against your skin. Everything reminds him of an amateur homemade video he’s seen from other couples perform on Pornhub. He’ll have to ask you some other day if you’d ever be open to filming your own tapes to watch back.

“Mmh, right there, Hoonie.” You sigh dreamily, locking your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together. “You’re fucking me so good— Aah!” A high pitch squeal slips from your vocal box when his tip probes at your G-spot.

“F-fuck,” Sunghoon leans in close, relying only on one forearm to hold himself up from crushing you with his entire weight. He hides his face in your boobs, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud that hardens in response. He persistently thrusts deeper, his cockhead pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Hnngh… Y-yes, yesyesyes!” You chant. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and tugging whenever his mouth would suck or massage at your breasts. “You’re gonna— make me c-cum!“

Sunghoon’s unrelenting despite your warning. He can feel your walls clamping around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm, and it taunts him to force himself deeper within your warm cavern at every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to his biceps. Nails digging into his skin as your face distorts into extreme pleasure.

“I’m so close too, baby.” He groans. “Just.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Couple.” Thrust. “M-more!”

“I’m cumming! I’m c-cumming—“ Your hips tremble with a frenzied urgency as your pussy pulsates around Sunghoon’s cock. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp and a long, impassioned moan escapes your lips. The sheer intensity of the moment leaving you incoherent and lost in ecstasy.

Sunghoon twitches inside of you. “Hah— you’re so— fuck!— s-sexy,” He grunts. Your head thrashes at the overstimulation of his length continuously pumping into you and you push at Sunghoon’s chest weakly, crying on his cock for him to slow down. You whine, whimper, plead for mercy so that your pussy can recover from the intense orgasm you just experienced not too long ago. In spite of that, he ignores your pleas and concentrates on finishing. It isn’t until white ropes of cum are shooting at your walls when his thrusts start to get sloppier and progressively come to a stop.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon exhales through gritted teeth. Both of you are a panting mess trying to catch your breaths as your chests rise and fall synchronously. The ravenette pulls out slowly and he groans when he sees his seed spill out of your hole, it closely reminds him of those hentai comics he’s read through illegal websites.

“I’ll get something to help clean you up.” Sunghoon lifts his weight from the bed but you reach for his forearm to grab him. You don’t have to say anything for him to understand that you don’t want him to leave your side. He brings a hand to yours, the pad of his thumb grazing the hills of your knuckles soothingly. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”

Not even 30 seconds has gone by when he re-enters your room with a damp cloth. He wipes at the areas where a mix of your cum and his seed litter your skin with sticky residue. He discards of the ruined cloth before joining you in bed where you welcome him with open arms. He plops down next to you and you turn to lay on your side so that you can get a proper view of his handsome face in post-sex afterglow. You reach out to gently touch his moles that adorn his features. The moles you missed seeing as the first thing in the morning when you’d wake up with him by your side. He grins lazily and cranes his neck to bring his lips to your forehead.

“Sunghoon…?” Your faces are merely inches apart from one another. Though the close proximity is not a foreign situation— especially after just having sex— you speak to him with a hushed tone.

“Yes?” He inquires.

“At the restaurant, you implied that you wanted to get back together again… Is it true? Do you really mean it?” Your lips are quivering and you mentally berate yourself for being so soft hearted in these types of scenarios where emotions are high, vulnerable, and transparency is called upon.

Sunghoon breathes shakily. “I really mean it. I miss you, Y/n.” He tucks away loose strands of hair that fall on your face. “These past two years without you have been hell. The first couple of months were so bad, I almost reconsidered being the chairman for father’s company so I could fight for us. Fight for you. I’m sorry if that part of my life got in our way as a couple, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be around you.”

You sniffle, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should’ve communicated instead of thinking I know better and that I thought what I did was for the greater good— because it wasn’t. And you’re right, the two years I spent without you were awful. I never wanna go through that again.”

Sunghoon loops an arm around your waist and guides your head to bury against his chest.

“We don’t have to.”

Morning rays gently infiltrate the room as Sunghoon stands before the full-length mirror in your shared master bedroom. His voice carries across the space as he greets his loving wife, 'Good morning, Mrs. Park,' while he meticulously adjusts his tie.

You stir in bed. The unwelcome intrusion of sunlight forces you awake despite the supposedly blackout curtains you requested when you first moved in with Sunghoon. You sigh in irritation. Dismissing the hope of another ten minutes of sleep, you push yourself upright, your arms stretching above your head, accompanied by a vibrant yawn. Sunghoon, amused by your morning ritual, chuckles softly.

“Still sleepy?” Your husband turns to face you after successfully finishing the Windsor knot of his tie. You blink away the fog of grogginess from your eyes and grin when you get a clear vision of your husband clad in his usual work uniform.

“Mmm… you’re so handsome.”

Sunghoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, touched by your kind words that always seem to set the perfect tone for his day. He approaches your side of the bed with a confident saunter and takes a seat beside you.

“Any plans for today, my lovely wife?”

You can't help but giggle at his endearing habit of calling you 'wife' and 'Mrs. Park.' It's become a sweet tradition between the two of you, a reminder of your loving bond that has grown since your wedding day. You twist your hand to observe the silver band that ornaments your ring finger. The diamond twinkles back at you in the bask of the light.

“I think Yunjin and I are getting brunch, then we’re going shopping right after, and later in the evening we’re gonna drink some wine and paint as we gossip about our husbands.”

Sunghoon laughs. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of yourself then.” He nudges your side playfully and you giggle. “Don’t forget to fit me into your schedule. Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”

“Cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup?”

“Where it all started.”

You envelop yourself in your husband's embrace, showering him with affectionate kisses. Starting from his moles and moving to both cheeks, his nose, forehead, and, ultimately, his irresistible lips, you express your love and absolute adoration for him with each tender peck.

“I love you, Mr. Park.” You murmur against his plush tiers.

His fingers delicately sweep aside the loose strands of hair obscuring your face, as he lovingly takes in every captivating feature, examining them with deep worship.

“I love you more, Mrs. Park.”

Two years ago you and Sunghoon sealed the knot in California. The ceremony took place at the Alila Ventana wedding venue, perched on a cliff along the rugged coast line of Big Sur. It offered a dramatic landscape, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean; the perfect picturesque backdrop for photos and videography. The outdoor spaces, gourmet dining, and coastal elegance were truly significant factors of your reception.

Sunghoon kept his promise to Mrs. Kim when the time came to send out the wedding invitations. Her excitement was beyond words as both of you entered the restaurant, radiating a newfound delight. Her gaze immediately fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on your finger— the same one she had scolded him for, which was now complete.

Come time to exchange your vows, Sunghoon's heartfelt declaration to cherish and devote himself to your love made it extremely difficult to keep your makeup in tact. Yunjin, your appointed maid of honor, had to step in to hand you tissues one after the other. The audience laughing to themselves at your showcase of emotions.

True to his words, Sunghoon carried you bridal style as he stalked down the aisle. Your families and friends cheering from their seats, their joyous applause resonating through the air. The warmth of their smiles and the happy tears in their eyes mirrored the love that enveloped you both in that moment.

Since then, life with Sunghoon after marriage was anything but dull.

#cgi-aenergy #enhypen fluff #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enha #park sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon enhypen #minors dni

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copper-16 · 18 days

Text

She Feels Safe With You

Ingrid comes to a realization about her wife as a mother after a particularly hard day with a fussy, upset baby.

(a/n: this was requested by someone on ao3! It's honestly half coherent but life I am riding the struggle bus a tad bit ust wanted to write something soft and sweet about these three, hence this!)

Mapi never really considered herself a crier, not just as a general rule.

She did not cry when she got hurt, or when she was frustrated, or when she watched a sad movie.

She cried occasionally, sure, but it wasn’t a daily, or weekly, or even monthly occurrence.

The Spaniard had cried when Ingrid had walked down the aisle, when she had resigned from the national team. She had cried when she got the notification that Spain had won the World Cup, an event she was not present for.

When they found out they were pregnant, Mapi cried. Ingrid had been in too much disbelief to cry at first, not truly believing that it had worked, not after two failed transfers.

But the center back had cried instantly, fat, bumble bee like tears rolling down her cheeks as she thought about the fact that they were actually going to be having a baby.

It probably should have been a sign of what was to come, in the future.

Mapi cried at nearly every ultrasound, tears springing to her eyes whenever they simply wheeled the doppler, practically. Ingrid had begun to joke that her wife had turned into Pavlov’s dog, except it was listening to their baby's heartbeat at the appointments. It earns her a withering glance, as Mapi roughly shoved her tears away.

“Are you going to cry every time you hold her? What is going to happen when you hear her heartbeat when she is no longer inside of me?” Ingrid sassed, though Mapi does not dignify her with a response.

The Norwegian has a relatively easy pregnancy, thank god. She keeps waiting for the wild emotional highs and lows, or the cravings, but neither really come. She had her moments, sure, but in the large percentage of the time, she felt normal.

What had been more fun, honestly, was to watch her wife turn into a complete and utter pile of mush, emotionally.

She had never seen Mapi cry as much as she did in the lead up to Elena’s birth. Sometimes she would walk out of their bedroom to see Mapi sitting on the couch, tears running down her face as she looked straight ahead, not even really looking at anything in particular.

“What are you crying about?” Ingrid had asked, her head cocked to the side in confusion. The Spaniard looked back toward her, her brows furrowed in confusion as she shook her head.

“I’m not really…I’m not really sure?” Mapi asked, her words a question rather than a statement. She took Ingrid in for a second, the swell of her stomach, and couldn’t help the fresh wave of tears that overtook her once more.

“We’re having a daughter,” she breathed out, her words slightly gasping over the wavering of emotion in her voice. Ingrid made her way over to the couch, settling next to her wife as she curled into her.

Mapi moved to wrap her arms around Ingrid, as she usually did, but the dark haired woman stopped her, softly. Instead, she took her wife's hands gently in her own, pressing a kiss to each of her palms before she placed them over her belly.

Ingrid relished in the way that her wife let out the tiniest little sigh of relief, even as more tears dripped down her face.

“That’s your daughter in there,” Ingrid insisted, her voice soft. A tiny kick pressed against the center back’s hand, as if to punctuate the defender’s point. Mapi closed her eyes, even more tears leaking out of her eyes as she nodded.

The Spaniard was terrified that she wouldn’t be connected to Elena, because she wasn’t the one who carried her. She was terrified that she wouldn’t love her daughter, or be a good parent, that she wouldn’t do or say the right things.

It was easy for Ingrid to know that Mapi was going to be a good parent. Because the reality of the matter was that her wife cared, deeply, and that already made her a hell of a better parent than a lot of people out there.

But Mapi still struggled to see that, no matter how much she was reminded.

————

Mapi cried when Elena was born. She cried as she held her little baby, as she pressed the pad of her pointer finger to her little nose. Elena stayed firmly asleep when she was in Mapi’s arms, never once fussing until she was passed around.

It became a bit of a theme, their daughter sleeping on Mapi.

Ingrid didn’t notice it at first, not when she was a baby. She was so little after all, all she did was sleep, practically.

But still, Ingrid snapped a million photos of her daughter, and so she got a fair bit of Elena sleeping against Mapi. It was where her daughter always seemed happiest, and as much as the Spaniard panicked and turned to Ingrid when the baby was fussing, it was her who was the best at calming Elena.

It was only when Elena got a little bit older, that Ingrid finally pieced it together.

The baby was a little bit older, a little bit more alert. She was nearly a year old when she began to resist sleeping, not as easy to put down, waking up early, becoming fussy.

Ingrid had been at her wits end all morning. The baby wouldn’t stop crying, and her head hurt, and she was tired.

She wanted nothing more than to go into her bedroom, curl up with her wife, and sleep for more than two hours at a time. But she couldn’t do that, not with her baby here, not when Elena needed her.

When the doorbell rang, the Norwegian honestly wanted to scream. Elena looked as though she was just about to fall asleep, but the baby jerked awake as soon as the doorbell rang, her nap forgotten.

The crying was back, and Ingrid held the baby to her chest as she ripped the door open, lashing out at whatever was closest.

The culprit just happened to be Frido.

“Fridolina Rolfö I swear to GOD–” Ingrid started, only to be cut off before she could say something she truly regretted.

“Ingrid.”

The voice was soft, and probably shouldn’t have been audible over the crying of their daughter, but Ingrid would never not hear her wife. The defender turned around, finding Mapi standing behind her with a sympathetic look on her face.

The Spaniard had just gotten off the phone from a brand meeting, just a few minutes prior. But she had called Frido before the meeting started, telling the Swede that she needed to come steal Ingrid for a bit. Feed her, let her nap in peace, get away from the house for a bit.

The Norwegian looked back at her wife with confusion. She hadn’t made plans with Frido, and she knew that she couldn’t leave Elena like this.

But the Spaniard reached for the baby regardless, taking her from Ingrid. The dark haired woman looked over her wifes face. There was exhaustion present, lines written into her face, bags under her eyes.

But there was also understanding there. Some nerves, but understanding nonetheless.

“I called Frido to come take you back to her house for a bit, to have a little bit of a break. Eat a proper meal. Get some sleep without a crying baby around. Rest for a while, princesa. We will be here when you return,” Mapi promised, leaning forward to kiss Ingrid’s cheek. The Norwegian panicked, looking from Frido to her wife.

“But–” Ingrid started, knowing how nervous it made Mapi to be left alone with the baby.

Still, even all these months later, she worried that she was struggling to connect with her daughter. All of Ingrid’s movements seemed so natural, so perfected. And somehow still, hers felt awkward and stinted, never quite right, never as maternal or as easy as she wanted them to be.

She wanted to do better, though, for her daughter and her wife, who was clearly exhausted. Not that the center back wasn’t equally as tired, she just couldn’t very well do anything about it right this very second. But she could do something about Ingrid’s exhaustion.

“No, we will be fine, Ingrid. Take a few hours, amor, you are exhausted,” Mapi soothed, gently pressing the Norwegian out of the door with a soft hand, allowing Frido to lead her away.

It turned out, Ingrid needed it more than she thought humanly possible. When she got back to the Swede’s house, there was Sodd waiting for her on the table, and she practically collapsed into the bowl she ate so quickly.

She napped in Frido’s guest bedroom, sleeping for four straight hours.

When she awoke, she felt like a new woman. She emerged from the bedroom with a small, sheepish smile.

“I am SO sorry for snapping at you this morning,” Ingrid apologized, even as Frido held up her hand.

“Ingrid, you were exhausted and carrying a screaming baby, if I had been you I would have been roundhouse kicking someone,” Frido admitted, and the defender couldn’t help the tiny laugh that she released at the thought. As she came back to herself, she couldn’t help but straighten, a thought racing through her mind.

“Oh my god, Mapi is still home with the baby…can you take me back?” Ingrid asked in a slight panic, and her Swedish teammate quickly sprung into action to grab her car keys.

“She is still so worried that she is not doing a good job with Elena,” the Norwegian admitted as they drove, her heart punctuated with worry.

“Still?” Frido asked, well aware of the struggles that the center back had during the first few months of Elena’s life.

“Not as much now, but still. It does not come as naturally to her as she wants it to be, but she still does such a good job, somehow. I do not know how she doesn’t see it, really,” Ingrid revealed, and Frido let out a small, sad sigh.

“She is so hard on herself,” the Swede commented, and Ingrid could only cringe as she nodded, her agreement weighing on the car heavily.

Frido parked the car in the car park of their apartment building, coming up with Ingrid to check on Mapi and Elena. They were both expecting to still hear crying as they unlocked the door, but the house was…quiet.

Ingrid looked toward her teammate in confusion before they walked into the house, both of them searching for the Spaniard.

“Mapi?” Frido called out softly as she checked the kitchen, only to hear the Norwegian call out to her in the living room.

When the blonde walked into the room, she stopped next to Ingrid, surprise coating her expression.

Mapi was fast asleep on the couch, with Elena curled into her chest. Mapi was only in a sports bra, her shirt discarded on the floor. The baby was stripped down to her diaper, pressed into her Mami’s chest comfortably, completely asleep as well.

Frido looked from the Spaniard to the Norwegian, her eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know, looks pretty natural to me,” she shrugged, and Ingrid softened as she nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight. She pulled her phone out, snapping a photo and placing it in an album on her phone that she was well acquainted with.

Ingrid left the two of them, seeing Frido out before she returned to the living room. She sat on the floor, simply staring up at the two of them as they slept. Elena was completely safe, engulfed by Mapi’s arms.

How Mapi could keep her daughter so safe and secure, and still question whether she was a good parent, Ingrid sometimes did not know. It seemed so blatantly obvious to the dark haired woman, that her wife was an amazing parent.

She only wished that the brunette could see it herself.

It was only another half hour before Elena began to fuss, and Ingrid quickly plucked the baby from her wife’s arms, going to feed and change her. The Spaniard was dead to the world, and Ingrid decided to simply let her sleep.

Lord knows the woman could use it, just as she had needed it.

But even after Elena was fed and changed, she continued to fuss. She cried softly, not very loudly or in a grumpy way, but as though she was not completely happy.

Ingrid tried everything. She bounced the baby, she walked her around, she made faces at her, she covered her in blankets, she laid her down.

Nothing seemed to appease her daughter. Not even when Ingrid stripped her own shirt off, wondering if maybe she just enjoyed the skin to skin contact.

But still Elena kicked her little legs, letting out a weak, tired cry. The defender held her baby out in front of her, her eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you need?” Ingrid asked aloud, though she wasn’t really expecting an answer. Still Elena let out a frustrated cry, wriggling slightly. The Norwegian paused for a moment, before turning around and heading for the living room to test a theory that was beginning to form.

And sure enough, as soon as the baby was laid on her Mami’s chest, she quieted instantly.

The brunette shifted in her sleep, wrapping her arms protectively around Elena, mumbling incoherently as she snuggled into her. Ingrid sat down on the couch next to her, cuddling into her wife as she slept, and helping to keep their daughter held securely as she slept.

Mapi awoke when Elena started fussing again, waking gently as she wrapped her arms around her daughter, her attention completely on Elena even as she woke up.

“Shh shh mi sol, esta bien, esta bien,” Mapi murmured, picking Elena up and going to sit up, at which point she registered Ingrid next to her.

“Oh, hello princesa,” the Spaniard murmured, settling their daughter in her arms before she leaned over to deposit a kiss on her wife’s cheek. She paused though, when she found Ingrid crying, her phone in hand.

“Ingrid? Is everything okay?” Mapi asked softly, her voice thick with sleep but still filled with concern. The Norwegian nodded easily, running her hand over Elena’s back as she set her phone down on the couch.

“You are the best Mami,” she replied simply, watching as a flicker of doubt overtook the Spaniard’s face before she nodded, trying her hardest to look encouraged. The Norwegian looked at her wife for a moment before she reached for their daughter.

“Here, give me Elena,” Ingrid said gently, taking the baby and going to put her down for an actual nap.

When Ingrid returned, she found the center back sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest.

“I realized something, when I came back from Frido’s,” the defender began as she sat back down, reaching for her phone once more. Mapi turned to look at her, quiet and more than a little curious.

“Ever since Elena was born, I’ve kept an album on my phone that is just pictures of her sleeping on you. And whenever I feel sad, or upset, or I just need a little pick me up, I always look at it. It’s my two favorite people in the world, after all,” Ingrid explained, and her words are so gentle that Mapi can’t help but smile shyly, even after all these years.

“She’s always loved sleeping on you, María. You are the best at calming her down, you are the first to get her to sleep. She feels safe sleeping on you, amor,” Ingrid argued softly, though Mapi looked immediately posed to disagree.

“Look,” Ingrid insisted, pressing her phone into the hands of her wife. The album is already pulled up, simply waiting for the Spaniard.

Hundreds of pictures.

Thousands of pictures, even.

All of Elena snuggled into her Mami, fast asleep. They started when she was a newborn, so tiny that Mapi had struggled to even hold her without feeling fear.

As the little girl grew, so did the Spaniard’s resolve to be there for her daughter. Her confidence grew as well, her worry subsided a little bit.

But more than anything, over the last year, her love for the little girl grew immensely. Tears slid down her cheeks as she scrolled through the album, through the actual, physical proof that just served to show how much she had come to care for their daughter.

The brunette still had no clue how she could hold so much love for someone so incredibly small, but she did.

The Spaniard stood suddenly, handing Ingrid’s phone back to her before she walked back into their apartment. It was the number one rule, not to move a sleeping baby, but Mapi did not care, not right now.

She picked Elena up from her crib, tucking her daughter into her arms tightly, praying that she could always protect her from the world as much as she could right now.

The baby stayed fast asleep, little hot puffs of air hitting her in the chest, where Elena was positioned. Mapi bowed her head downward, her tears dripping from her nose and onto her daughter's perfect little head as she pressed kiss after kiss to the crown of her head.

“Te amo mucho,” Mapi murmured, as she wondered if finally, finally, she was enough.

“She feels safe with you,” Ingrid commented from her spot leaning against the doorway of the nursery. The center back looked up for a moment, her eyes thick with tears. “She is always falling asleep with you, always soothed by you. She feels safe with you, amor. She feels safe with her Mami, and that is enough, you are enough,” Ingrid emphasized, and Mapi struggles to keep her composure as her lungs spasm, burning from the effort of keeping her cries quiet.

Elena opens her eyes carefully, blinking up at Mapi with sleep ridden eyes.

“Mami,” she rasps, reaching out for the Spaniard. Mapi cradles her daughter close to her, pressing her face into Elena’s skin as the little girl giggles lightly, reaching out to pull at a lock of brunette hair.

The Spaniard cannot bring herself to care as she pulls the little girl back, looking her firmly in the eyes. Elena smiles back at her, content and happy, safe and secure.

“Te amo tanto. No puedo vivir sin ti,” Mapi murmured to her daughter, as she felt a part of her heart settle.

Maybe it hadn’t always been the most natural thing to her, to hold a child or change a diaper or play with a baby.

But what she made up for in lack of skill in the beginning, she had made up for with an entirely overwhelming amount of love. Because no matter what she did not know, there was absolutely nothing that Mapi would not do for her little girl.

And maybe, at its core, that had always been enough.

Maybe all they needed for everything to make sense was a little love, and a very long nap.

#ingrid engen #mapi leon #ingrid x mapi x daughter #woso #barcelona femeni #fridolina rolfö

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