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notjoelmiller · 1 month

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i cared

MDNI simon "ghost" riley x f!reader summary: three and a half years ago and an ocean away, he tore you apart. now he's turned up at your door. wordcount: 4.1k warnings: smut (fingering), drinking, AFAB reader, possible past dub-con (reader was in a bad mental state and simon knew), simon is a shitty guy in this, talk of hypothetical suicide, talk of past bad mental state (depression), mentioned PTSD, heartbreak on both sides, death mention (MW:III canon) a/n: hey remember when i said that my next fic would be joel and i posted a little insert. that was a lie! instead of working on that (12k word, currently) monster, i wrote something else. if you couldn't tell, i started this before the holidays and then forgot about it.

ao3

The house is much nicer than Simon anticipated. When he saw the New York City address, he had expected you to be crammed into a shitty 6th-floor walk-up. But no, not you. Instead, you have an honest-to-God three-story home with red brick delicately dusted with snow. You certainly couldn’t afford it on the 141 salary. He always suspected you came from means. This just confirms it. It just makes him wonder why the hell you decided to slum it in the services for so long.

It reminds Simon that he shouldn’t be there. You weren't made for that life and left for a reason. Who is he to ruin your peace?

He’s not alone on the street. Well-to-do families of strangers pass by, all watching the masked man observe their neighbor’s home. He can still turn around and leave you to the life you so clearly want.

Something shifts in one of the windows, the curtain being tousled by something. A dog. You got a dog– a golden retriever with sharp eyes and, evidently, an even sharper bark. The canine goes berserk, barking and howling and growling at Simon through the window. It’s Simon’s cue to leave, to leave you be with your semi-rabid, semi-domestic canine.

But before he can move, the curtain shifts again– pulled this time –and you’re there. You squint for a moment, surely wondering what masked freak is standing in your walkway like he owns the damn place. He lets you scrutinize him. It’s now or never. Either you’ll tell him to fuck off once you realize who he is or you’ll call the police on him, though it’s not like they would do anything after he calls Kate.

Instead, you disappear behind the curtain, your loyal steed of a dog following hot on your heels. In a moment’s notice, the large front door, with a gilded knocker and door knob open. You beckon him in. He follows, eyes trailing up and down your body once you’re facing away from him. You’re dressed casually but smartly in a short denim skirt and cashmere sweater. Simon’s never seen you in that getup before, even when going out to the pub.

“Shoes off,” you order, motioning towards the neat shoe rack next to the door. They’re all women's shoes of the same size. Simon’s shoulders relax, and he slips off his boots. It was for the best, he figures. His old boots would have just dragged dirt into your space. He takes off his mask too, hanging it up with his jacket. It’s nothing you haven't seen before.

Simon follows you into the sitting room– at least, that’s what Simon guesses the room is. It’s too neat for your taste, or his memory of what your taste is exactly. The couch and single chair seem untouched, the air still, like Simon’s presence is cutting through some sacred stillness.

You point to a couch and Simon obeys, sitting with his hands on his knees. Your eyes lock with his without granting him any semblance of your thoughts. Simon keeps his gaze soft, neutral. You can scrutinize him all you need.

You sigh, straightening your posture. A smile pulls at your lips. Your smile lines crease deeper than he remembered. Or maybe they always creased that deep.

“Tea?”

***

“He’s quite protective,” you drop two sugar cubes into a cup of tea. The spoon in your hand lets out a delicate tink as it hits the porcelain cup. You hand Simon the teacup, it’s just how he likes it. “Always has his haunches raised, even when he’s not working.”

Ah. A service animal. He’s surprised to not have put that together sooner. Always loyal, the pooch plants himself at your feet, gaze burning into Simon. If looks could kill…

“Your home?” Simon asks. He lifts the teacup to his lips and sips. Simon places the teacup on its saucer impossibly slowly. Simon can’t believe you’d trust him with something so delicate.

“I inherited it.”

A smile creeps on Simon’s face. Teacups and generational wealth. He always knew you were posh. Or whatever Americans call posh.

“You’re on holiday?” You ask.

“‘Tis the season.”

You hum. Your house is the only one on the block without some sort of holiday decor. Simon wonders if it was a pointed decision.

“And you came here.” Why?

He can’t tell you the truth. The fact is that every day since you left– all one thousand two hundred ninety-eight of them since John uttered to his fuming lieutenant that you just weren’t fit to serve any more –he’s ached. One thousand two hundred ninety-eight days of no contact. Of his only proof that you ever existed being a photo and a tear-stained note with one sentence scribbled in ink: John has contact info– emergencies only.

“I wanted to wish you a happy holidays.”

You laugh dryly, though it sends a pang of pain through Simon. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that sound. “Usually people send a card for that.”

You observe Simon with precision, like you never left the force, though the way you scratch Yogi’s belly unconsciously betrays the hardened exterior. It’s a glimpse into the last three and a half years. Of the woman you’ve become– so foreign to Simon. Foreign to your past self. Or not. Maybe this is who you’ve been all along, just hidden behind fatigues. Maybe the woman Simon thought he knew was just a farce. Rich girl playing army for a few years.

Maybe you joined the force just to fuck around for a bit. After a few years, you’d have stories to tell your socialite friends back home. Except, you didn’t get what you wanted, didn’t you? Simon knows well and good that serving, the 141, and him, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, destroyed something in you.

You tap the porcelain of your teacup. It makes a pleasant ding. “Did John tell you where to find me?”

“No. Well–” Simon tries to tell you the truth without throwing his comrade under the bus. The truth was, John had indulged in one too many drinks at the pub one night and hadn’t locked his quarters. An envelope addressed to you sat front in center on his desk. “Not intentionally.”

It’s a satisfying enough answer. Only a small twinge of annoyance crosses your face before you hum. “This isn’t a guilt thing, right Simon?” You ask, “I didn’t do what I did because of what happened.”

“What we did back then, on the field,” Simon traps you under his gaze. His stare is aggressive, but he hopes it conveys the intense feelings he’s struggling with. “I can’t just leave it. That’s why I came.”

Simon doesn’t dare speak. He doesn’t dare breathe while he watches you process his words. It’s a load of crap, he knows it, and he knows you know it. It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to kick him out.

You smize, teeth coming out to tug at your bottom lip. “Have you ever had New York pizza?”

***

You order two pies, hushing Simon when he insists it’s too much. You were right. Two isn’t enough. Simon scarfs down one pie without coming up for air. It’s delicious. It isn’t until he’s four slices deep that he realizes that you, smiling widely at him, haven’t yet picked up your first.

You’re a gracious host– a natural, really. You perch yourself on the kitchen island, legs crossed in a way that makes your skirt ride so sinfully up your thighs. Simon doesn’t look of course, he’s a gentleman. At least, he is for the first bottle of the ungodly expensive red wine you procure. It’s then that you perch your leg on the counter opposite your spot on the island, right next to Simon. Old habits die hard– especially when inebriated –and Simon places a hand on your leg, massaging the skin of your ankle.

You pay no mind to Simon’s ministrations, though, lost in the domestic bliss and mindless conversations you’ve probably been drowning yourself in for the last few years. You wave the glass of wine wildly about, like you wouldn’t give a damn if it spilled all over your expensive clothes. It seems so natural for you. Simon wonders what you were ever doing with the 141 when posh city living fits you like a second skin.

Simon inches his hand higher up your leg as you speak. He doesn’t get very far, but it’s enough so that he can trace patterns into the soft skin of your thigh. It’s too much, though, because your eyes lock onto his. But you’re not mad. You don’t tell him to stop. Rather, you examine him, and in your eyes Simon sees what looks like mirth.

“I missed this,” Simon says. He cringes at the words leaving his mouth. He’s succumbing to the domestic bliss you’ve created, looking at the past through rose-tinted glasses.

You reach for a third bottle of wine and a corkscrew, furrowing your brow in thought while twisting the screw. “I didn't want to abandon you,” you say. Simon, watching you pop the cork off with ease, almost forgets that you’re talking to him until you lock eyes. He watches you sniff the cork, pause, then sniff it again before topping off your glass. You take a heaping swig, like that Pinot Noir worth more than Simon’s monthly pay is unremarkable. “I left for a reason, you know.”

Oh, Simon certainly knows. The rumors had been inescapable in the first weeks of your absence. All around base every soldier had entertained the question of what happened to the American chick in the 141. Simon had only so many threatening looks to give privates before curiosity got the better of him. He abated the desire to ask John for so long, but there was only so much longing he could handle coupled with the cacophony of voices asking the same thing he desperately wanted to know.

John didn’t flounder when Simon finally came to him, demanding to know why you left.

She was discharged.

Why?

For… mental reasons.

Simon lost his shit in Price’s office that morning. He collapsed onto the couch with a gasp, a hand grasping and squeezing his heart. His breath left him, but Simon was too bloody stupid to understand what the hell was going on until Price was handing him a brown paper bag.

Breathe, son.

“Simon,” you breathe, your saccharine voice the most tantalizing sound Simon has ever heard. You lean forward, your finger tracing the scar parallel to the cut of his jaw. You were there for it, saw the knife slice through his mask and the skin underneath. You bandaged it in the helicopter after, making Simon promise to go to medical afterwards. He promised he would. That night he closed the wound with superglue. “Why did you really come?”

Because you disappeared. Because Price said you were on the brink of becoming a statistic. Because I fucked up. Because I said things I didn’t mean and I thought that it killed you.

“Johnny’s dead,” he lies. But it isn’t a lie. It’s true, sure, Johnny’s been reduced to ashes and scattered in the Scottish highlands. But that isn't why he came.

“I know.” You sniffle. Christ, Simon’s made you cry. Nausea washes over him. A voice in his head screams, fix it, idiot! But emotions were never Simon’s strong suit. Instead, Simon reaches for the bottle and tops off your glass of wine, probably a bit more than he should have, but it seems like you need it.

You mutter a thank you and down a bit more than half of the glass. You come up for air and hiccup. “John told me.”

“Price?” He asks, as though there was any other John. Anything to get you talking rather than crying.

You nod. “He dropped by around Thanksgiving. Asked if I wanted to be there when you all…” You wave your hand in the air, “You know.”

Something ugly festers in his chest. Maybe if he actually went to a therapist, Simon could recognize what it is.

“You said no?” He asks.

“I didn’t think I could.”

Simon nods, holding your gaze in a way that he hopes conveys his sense of understanding.

“How’d it happen?” You croak. Your eyes are glassy, a reminder of the ever-looming threat that you could fall apart again. Simon reminds himself that you wouldn’t be crying if he had just kept his distance.

“Bullet in the head.”

You tense, your head flying to Simon. Your eyes are frantic, searching for something in his face. “He…he…?”

Christ.

“No, no,” Simon scrambles to get his next words out, “Makarov. It was-” His voice cracks. Unusual. “-was too fast to stop it. To save himself.”

You hum, slumping down like it’s comforting to you that Johnny had his life torn from his arms. Like it’s comforting that Johnny couldn’t go on his own terms, but on the terms of a Russian terrorist.

“You know,” you say like you know he knows, “Johnny’s the reason I got out.”

Simon shifts. Johnny never talked about your discharge, always responding to speculation like he was none the wiser. “He is?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. It’s deep and watery. “Things were…bad one night. He found me. Talked me through the night. Listened to me.” You throw your head back, eyes tracing imaginary patterns on the ceiling.

“He told Price?”

You nod.

“That was after we…”

You nod again. Simon feels sick.

“It had nothing to do with you, Simon.”

“I never thought it did.”

“Then why,” you ask, “did you bring it up?”

Simon shifts. “Thought it was relevant.”

You smile, though your eyes are still lined with tears. “Guilty conscience?”

“Of course not, love,” Simon laughs, hoping you buy it. It works, he thinks. You seem to deflate, slumping a bit. You take some time to think. Simon, panicking at the thought that your self-reflection could send him out the door, pulls out the one trick he has over you.

He lets your legs fall. They bang against the cabinets with a soft umph from your lips. Simon slides off of the counter and stalks your way. You watch him and put up no fight as he slots his wide body between your knees. You don't even complain as the parting of your legs forces your skirt to ride even higher.

Fingers card through Simon’s hair. He hums.

“Why did you do it?” You ask.

Simon tilts his head, and with the wine in his veins and your hand in his hair, the world spins. Your other hand slips under the hem of Simon’s shirt. Warm fingers graze the skin of his stomach and then side, before your hand settles on his back, palm splaying across scarred flesh.

“I–” Simon croaks, “–I felt something for you.”

You snort. Simon’s chest burns and he takes some deep breaths to calm himself. He imagines Price’s paper bag, inflating and crinkling over and over.

“You knew I would leave. That’s it, isn’t it?” You accuse with a gleam in your eyes. “I was in a bad place and was leaving so it didn’t matter if you hit it and quit it.” You laugh. “You got what you wanted without risking your position.”

“That’s not true.”

Your thighs bracket his legs, trapping him against you. Your words curl around your wine-stained tongue. “‘I don’t love you’. Isn’t that what you said Simon?”

“Love–”

You tense, thighs squeezing him like a vice. “Love,” you coo, the imitation of Simon’s long vowels curtles unnaturally on your tongue. “Love, love, love. You know Simon,” you wrap your hands around the back of his neck and lean into the crook of his neck. Your lips brush against his skin as you speak, “You say it, but you’ve never meant it.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon utters, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt.

“You’re not.”

He’s not. He doesn’t argue. He could– should, rather –but he can’t think straight with you this close to him. The scent of your perfume itches the deepest part of his brain. You never wore perfume when on duty, rather, always coated in the aroma of base-issued shampoo and sweat.

“I really cared for you, you know,” you whisper, your lips millimeters from his, them parting when his fingers rub you through the fabric of your underwear.

“I know,” Simon closes the distance, capturing your lips with his.

He pushes you back onto the counter, you let him, lets Simon cage your body like he has the right to. You groan into his mouth when he traps your bottom lip between his teeth and melt when his fingers slip past the hem of your panties, his fingers plunging through the wetness into your cunt.

It’s obscene— the noises you make as he thrusts his fingers into you. With his free hand, Simon pushes your skirt up over your hips so he can watch your cunt squeeze around him.

He slides his thumb up to your clit and you gasp. “Simon,” you moan. He nearly stops. It’s been years since he’s heard you say his name, let alone moan it. Fuck, Simon can’t help but grind his cock against the island counter, groaning.

It doesn’t take much to work you into an orgasm. Before he knows it, your moans become softer, higher pitched, and you’re coming apart, clenching hard on Simon’s fingers.

He works you through your orgasm, whispering praise into your ears. Simon gives you no time before pouncing, fisting his hands in your hair and devouring you. You wiggle underneath his weight, uttering something, but the words are lost into Simon’s mouth. He pulls away, his eyes meeting your expectant ones.

“What?”

“Upstairs,” you say, chest heaving. “My room is upstairs.”

***

Simon wakes before dawn. He’s lying on top of you, your strong breath rocking him up and down. Your limbs are impossibly tangled. He’s reminded of an identical morning, years ago, of what he did then, and what that choice led him to. But that was years ago. You were different then, broken. How was he supposed to know that his choice would make you shatter?

He untangles himself slowly. It feels like the process takes hours, though the sun fails to make an appearance by the time he slips out of bed. The clock reads four in the morning. That explains it. It also explains the way the room around him is spinning slightly. He’s still drunk– or at least buzzed –from the night before.

His pants are an easy find, discarded by the door. His shirt though… Simon spins around the room, eyes glazing over the space. He tries not to take anything in too deeply, too personal for this morning.

He spots his shirt on your vanity. Simon yanks it off, but something hard and heavy comes with it. It nearly drops to the floor, but Simon catches it before it can hit and wake you up.

It’s a perfume bottle, heavy and half-filled. Simon can’t suppress the urge of his half-drunk brain to sniff it. The scent— the scent of you —explodes in his synapses. He tosses a glance over his shoulder, ensuring you’re still asleep, before pocketing the bottle.

The dog follows Simon as he walks through the house. Luckily, as he slips on his shoes, the dog disappears into the rest of the house.

Simon lingers with a hand wrapped around the door knob. It warms under his touch.

“Are we doing this again?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, “I ‘ave to.” Simon stays facing the door, though he doesn’t make a move to turn around. He knows how he must look to you, too cowardly to face you. He’s reminded of the last time he spent the night with you. He got out scot-free. What would have happened if you found him then? Simon can’t say for certain whether or not he would have left then, if you called out for him in the same delicate voice.

“Stay.”

“What?”

“In New York,” you say, voice dry with sleep. “With me. Get out of the SAS, the 141, all that bullshit.”

“‘S not that easy.”

“It is. I left. You can leave. Or you can stay and end up like Johnny–”

“What do you know about Johnny,’ Simon growls, turning on his heels. He straightens his spine, puffing his chest up like you’re a threat. Your dog buys it, growling and worming himself between you and Simon. You don't take the bait though. You honest to God laugh in Simon’s face.

“I know enough.” You step closer to Simon. The pooch gets the memo, clearing the way for you. Simon almost does the same, he wants to. Some instinctual part of his brain needs to cave to you. “You mean something, Simon,” you flick your eyebrows up, letting them drop immediately. It feels like a challenge, like you were asking Simon the silent question. Do you matter?

“You’re more than a soldier– more than a body on a field, waiting to drop.” There are tears in your eyes. You don't let them fall. Simon hopes you’ve finally realized that he isn’t worth your heartbreak. He’s never been, but at least your realization would stop his cruel cycle of him chewing you up and spitting you right back out.

“Come to New York, Simon, please. There– there’s a butcher shop up the block, they’re always looking for help. You said you used to do that stuff, right?”

Fucking hell. He had said it to you, years ago after a mission. Simon went drink for drink with Johnny and Gaz and got positively wasted. It was the night he first set his sight on you, when your tenderness sunk its claws into his heart and refused to let go. You didn’t know then what it would lead to. Simon did. Every love Simon had wilted in his claws. Why would you be different?

“Come here,” you plead, “Take the job with them. I can help you find an apartment or you can live with me but–” You grab Simon’s shoulders, tugging. It isn’t strong enough to turn him around, but he does. Your cheeks are wet and eyes glassy as you stare up at him. “Simon, it’s too late for us, but don’t let it be too late for you.”

Simon lifts his hand to your cheek, fingers grazing the plump skin. It slides to the back of your head and tugs– yanks you into his embrace as he crashes your lips against his own. The morning makes you soft though, as Simon nips your lips with his teeth, you melt, softening and slowing your movements.

It’s you that pulls away first, staring at Simon. You let him swipe his finger across your cheek, caressing you.

“Please,” you beg, kissing the palm of his hand.

Simon lets his hand fall from you. It sits achingly cold at his side.

It would be cowardly to leave you without a goodbye after forcing himself back into your life, even if it was for one night. Simon considers himself to be many things, but never a coward. Yet, standing in front of you, staring into your expectant eyes, words don’t come easy.

You step towards him. Simon steps back. The door knob presses into his back. His heart is pounding, the blood in his eyes deafening him. Your scent wafts his way, your perfume. The one whose bottle he knocked over, nearly let slip through his fingers and shatter. The one which you never got to wear in the 141. The one weighing down his back pocket.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Simon says.

He doesn’t look back. Not when you gasp his name. Not when he opens the door. Not when he walks down the snowy street.

Price and Gaz will ask about his holiday. They’re kind like that. In the cab to the airport, passing the bottle of perfume between his hands, Simon considers his answer. Single word answers are his forté, but won’t suffice with the prying curiosities of his captain and sergeant.

The answer comes to him when he sniffs the perfume once more.

In the coming week, when Gaz claps him on the back, he will ask, “How was the holiday, Ghost?”

Simon will answer, “I had a meal with an old friend.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #cod fanfic #ghost x female reader

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luvt0kki · 3 months

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005 | the morning after

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

I can't stop and look the other way 'Cause I know what could be, babe And you never feel the same You'd be thinkin' 'bout it every day Don't believe in fairytales, but we got our fantasies

🎧: you right - Doja Cat

previous | 005| next

pairings: ot8 x f!reader

w.c : 8.4k ( sorry for any errors)

cw: mature, ,minors do not interact, nsfw, reader is afab, slow burn, polyamory, smut , peeping Tom! Wooyoung, masturbation, footjob, footsies, edging, some fluff ig, orgasm denial

REMINDER: my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n : CHAPTER 5! I FINALLY WROTE A VERSION OF CHAPTER 5 that I LIKE!!! Sorry for the long wait. I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I AWAIT YOUR REACTIONS HEHEH. make sure to leave comments about your thoughts and reactions! You can do this in my askbox too huhu!

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

Seonghwa flinched at the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen. He couldn’t even sip his morning coffee at the clamor in the kitchen, the usual cozy peace he had before everyone else woke up was disrupted. Usually, the chef was quiet, gilding around the kitchen with ease as he made breakfast for the crew.

But today, he was…off.

Seonghwa placed his coffee mug back on the dining table before turning his gaze to the kitchen, seeing the cause of the noise appearing frustrated yet spaced out at the same time. Some kind of weird autopilot.

What was up with him?

Usually, the vice-captain would ask what’s wrong but Wooyoung’s knitted brows and expression of deep yet stressful contemplation made him believe it was best to just observe him and figure it out for himself. If Wooyoung was troubled, he knew that he could always come to any of them.

When the other members gathered except for you and Yeosang, they too quickly noticed the change in mood of their playful, energetic chef.

“What’s up with him?” Jongho asked, frowning as Wooyoung hissed when he held the skillet the wrong way. He’s never this reckless in his domain, his sacred kitchen.

Seonghwa only sighed in response, crossing his legs with poise and shaking his head.

Yunho, the gentle soul that he was still decided to check on Wooyoung, hopefully, his calm gleeful energy could make the younger member feel better.

“You okay there, Woo?” He called over from the table.

Not looking up from the pans on the stove, he responded, more like muttered his response. “M’fine.”

What a lie. He wasn’t fine they all could catch the vibe from him.

They all exchanged glances and kept their mouths shut, letting Wooyoung serve this morning's breakfast while the rest of them carried on as if nothing was wrong.

“Go on,” Wooyoung huffed, taking his seat at the table and picking up a fork. “Eat up.”

Was all he said to them and nothing more. He was quiet but he listened to their conversation, Mingi stared at him long wondering what exactly it was that was bothering him.

“Morning,” Yeosang’s deep voice chimed warmly. Wooyoung didn’t raise his head at his best friend’s voice and Hongjoong narrowed his eyes a little at his lack of interaction.

Right after his arrival, Jongho let out a low whistle as the last person to arrive at the dining table finally appeared.

“You look very pretty this morning, princess.” Jongho complimented, drinking in your delightful appearance. “That’s a new number I haven’t seen before.”

San glanced at Wooyoung sat beside him who was staring really hard into his bowl of fried rice.

“She looks good enough to eat,” Mingi tilted his head, getting a good look at his baby

“Thank Yeosang for the new set.” You giggled, sauntering in with a subtle sway of your hips, knowing your lovers were enjoying your morning look.

Wooyoung, unable to hold back from looking your way, took a small peek, the promise of this ‘new set’ tempting him too easily.

The moment he did, he wished he hadn’t.

You walked to his kitchen to get yourself a cup of coffee in a new silk slip with thin straps. Different from the night before. The hem of the dress was short, way above mid-thigh, and tastefully stopping before where your thigh and ass meet. It was lined with white lace lilies that complimented the periwinkle silk. The straps were thin and he remembered the way they fell off your shoulders last night. Flowing as you stride past them was a sheer white lace robe, draped over your shoulders and floating dreamily with your movements.

Like all the men on that table, they all watched you as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, admiring the teasing view of your backside.

“Thanks, Yeosang.” Mingi bit his lip, eying the curve of your ass covered by the pretty silk.

Wooyoung immediately looked away and continued to eat blankly as you joined the table, sitting across from him.

How lucky was he?

Mingi draped his arm on the back of your chair as if to mark his territory to Wooyoung, unaware that he had seen you and Yeosang fucking last night.

“You look very beautiful, dove.” Seonghwa smiled softly and you could see how his eyes were blown with desire as he took in your lingerie-clad body.

“She looks like a bride the morning after her honeymoon,” Yunho joked, eying your exposed collarbones and the lace that lined the low neckline of the silk dress.

“Don’t give Mingi any ideas,” Jongho tutted, taking a bite of his meal and looking around the table, stopping at San who looked at you intensely. “Hey, San, snap out of it. I’m going to beat all of you to it.” He challenged them with confidence.

“Shut the f—,” Mingi was about to cuss the youngest out in banter but Hongjoong cut him off.

“When did you get her that, Yeosang?”

“When we stopped at Jupiter. It’s from a boutique that creates lingerie pieces for noblewomen, and princesses and provides the finest silk for the Queen Mother’s dresses.”

Wooyoung gripped his fork tight. The silk was from his home planet? He knows of the boutique Yeosang talked about and he knew how that expensive fabric felt in his fingers. He wondered how it would feel if he had the chance to caress your curves and feel the silk that kissed your skin.

“I told Yeosang I don’t need such things but he insists on his gift.” You leaned your head against Mingi.

“His gift to you is my gift,” The gunner grinned, placing a hand on your bare thigh and creeping it up high and so dangerously close to your heat, his smirk only grew when you didn’t stop him. Before he could feel what he hoped was a matching pair of silk underwear, you tapped his hand away, the big man pouting his full lips.

“Behave.” You told him before feeling San’s gaze on you. Your heart melted at the longing look in his eyes, round and sparkling. You smiled softly at him and let the slipper on your right foot slip off before running it along San’s calves, his ears immediately turning pink as he looked at you wide-eyed.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you turned your attention to Wooyoung, who was very quiet.

“Morning, Woo.”

Wooyoung clenched his jaw. His name sounded even sweeter on your tongue today.

“Uh, morning.” He managed to say only giving you a quick glance and a smile which made you pout a little.

He couldn’t look you in the eye. Did he feel that guilty? About last night? Maybe you should confront him… like Yeosang said.

“Yeo?”

“Yes, my love?”

You raised your cheek from the warm chest it had rested upon. You had been listening to his heartbeat while he combed his fingers through your hair and petted you gently.

“Wooyoung…” you murmured softly, completely relaxed on top of him while his other hand traced the curve of your back.

“I just made love to you and you’re thinking of Wooyoung?” He jested, pinching your side.

“It’s not that…” you softly tapped his chest at his teasing. “He saw us.”

Yeosang was silent for a bit but was quick to reply with such nonchalance. “And?”

“He saw us.” You looked him in the eyes unable to stop the urge to trace your fingers along his pretty jaw. “He was touching himself to us.” The image of Wooyoung by the door, lips parted and panting quietly, his eyes hazy as he looked at you with such want, flashed before your mind.

“Oh? He was?” His tone was straight, unbothered by the fact.

“You never mentioned that he was a little pervert.”

“I thought your interaction in the club told you that already. He was coming onto you very strong. Bill after bill to see the heaven between your thighs.”

“Fair enough.” You chuckled, kissing the tip of his gorgeous nose. “He doesn’t know…doesn’t he?”

“Apparently not.” Yeosang kept his eyes on your face as if he was looking upon you for the very first time and was marveling at the beauty before him. “But he has picked up on the way we all look at you.”

“And what way is that?” You cupped his cheek, your thumb caressing his cheekbone while looking into his pretty bright eyes.

Yeosang sighed deeply with a smile that could win anyone's heart even the Gods perhaps. He wrapped his arms around you and you melted against him, your cheek pressed once more to his chest as he kissed your forehead. He didn’t have to say it for you to know.

“What do we do about Woo?” You murmured after a comfy pause.

“He’s very much attracted to you, my love. Wooyoung, despite his playful flirtatious nature and his very…colorful sexual escapades. He never ever pursues nor beds a woman who is taken. It’s a rule of his.” Yeosang explained, cuddling you, the soft sheets kissing your naked skin. “But if the woman lies that she isn’t taken, that’s not on him.”

You only hummed at the piece of information about his best friend. Wooyoung’s rule was fair enough.

“Since he was the son of a Duke, he had more freedom than I had. Whenever I’d visit, the young maids in the Jung manor changed with each return.”

You made a face, one that made the former Prince smile fondly. “It’s because he was…”

“Messing around with them, yes.” Yeosang chuckled at the memory. “One time, I had caught him in our palace grounds stables getting head from one of my mother’s handmaidens.”

“And were you some Casanova back in the day too?” You traced the line between his pecs.

“I’ve had my fair share of experiences in masquerades or in empty rooms at official balls. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious,” you rolled your eyes a little. “You’re only saying that because it’s what you think I might want to hear.”

“Oh darling,” he pouted his lips in jest before kissing your forehead, his hand never ceasing its caress on your naked back. “Are you jealous?”

Yeosang watched as your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. It was cute and he knew you were just going to try to deny it.

“Maybe….just a little.”

“I was jealous of you and San once.” He confessed, wanting to wipe away your anxiety masked by jealousy.

“W-what why?” You blinked up at him.

“Because you were each other’s firsts. Even though San confessed after you and Mingi got together. He was still your first. First hug. First kiss. Oh, and you’re very first.”

Your eyes widened and you immediately felt heat bloom in your cheeks. “San told you?” You murmured shyly, remembering that time. Both of you only had each other at that time and in that mission, you both believed you were going to die. Consumed with unspoken desire and love that was hidden from each other verbally, you two had gotten intimate, letting actions and your bodies express what you both felt.

“San has loved you the longest, my darling. It just took him a while and you and Mingi being together to finally get him to say it.”

Your heart felt full. It felt as if it was going to explode with all the emotions and love you had for them. “I love you, Yeosang.” You said softly, looking him in his angelic eyes. “I love all of you so very much.”

“Though all of us have our own ways of showing it, we love you too. I love you.”

You kissed his soft lips and he kissed you back, sealing the romantic moment you two shared. You giggled as you pulled away.

“Now back to our Wooyoung,” Yeosang thought of his best friend.

“Our?” You raised a brow.

“He wants you, darling.”

“Sure he wants me but he’s not mine nor am I his like I’m yours and you’re mine. He probably only wants to fuck.”

“And you’re not opposed to the idea?”

You paused, thinking of your answer even though you immediately wanted to say no, you just didn’t want to seem too eager. But you didn’t have to hide from Yeosang. Never had to.

“No, I’m not…” you sighed, feeling a little guilty as you thought about your lovers. All of them. “It’s not that all of you aren’t enough—

“I know darling,” he stopped you before you could worry and spiral. “We all have noticed the way Wooyoung acts around you. In fact, the night you returned and you and Mingi…retired for the evening, the rest of us stayed back to discuss Wooyoung when he went to bed. Assuming he did go to bed and didn’t watch you and Mingi have sex.”

You made a mental note to ask the peeping Tom if he did see you that first night before continuing to listen to Yeosang’s pretty voice.

“Wooyoung saw us and he doesn’t know that we are all your lovers.”

“God, he must think I’m cheating on Mingi or something.” You huffed, rolling off of Yeosang to lie on your back. "Or that I'm some whor-"

Yeosang shushed you shaking his head. It would hurt him deeply if that was the way you thought of yourself.

“You could either confront him and ask him what he wants from you.”

“Very straightforward,” You narrowed your eyes at him. “But your smile is telling me there is another option.”

“Or…”Yeosang grinned, propping himself to crawl on top of you, his dark locks of hair framing his handsome face. He slotted his hips between your legs as he leaned down to kiss along your collarbones while his hands caressed your sides, the silk beneath his palms smooth against your skin.“You can have some fun keeping him on his toes."

Pausing your little innocent footsie play with San, who frowned when you stopped, you decided to turn your attention to the man sitting across from you, next to your pouting lover.

Maybe giving him a hint and teasing him a bit would reassure him that you didn’t hate him or anything…and maybe push him to finally confront you or take action with his attraction for you.

“We’ll be arriving in Gevora by the morrow. As I’ve discussed with Y/N, one of the pieces of the Cromer, we’ve found out, is going to be auctioned.” Hongjoong was speaking to you as you raise your coffee cup to your lips while gliding your foot up Wooyoung’s calf. “It’s a highly private auction with wealthy attendees which also means it’s definitely—,”

“Illegal.” Jongho finished for the Captain, clicking his tongue as all of it made sense. “So what’s the plan?”

Wooyoung tensed visibly, his other leg jumping at your sudden touch, his knee banging against the underside of the table.

“You okay, Woo?” Jongho asked, raising a brow at the wide-eyed former noble.

Wooyoung finally met your gaze as they all stared at him. He was met with such a neutral expression from you as if you weren’t running your foot up his leg in a way that made shivers run down his spine and send heat straight to his groin.

“U-uh I’m fine…” he was trying to remain composed while he screamed in his head at what on earth you were doing. “Just lost in thought.” He played it off, earning a very subtle smile of approval from you as you sipped your coffee so casually.

“So what’s your plan, Captain?” You took the boys' attention from him, Hongjoong staring at you with a subtle glint in his eyes at how you effortlessly addressed him with a sultry tone.

“The good ol’ hit ‘em before they know it.” He replied, his eyes locked with yours as he knew that look you had in them all too well. That teasing yet magnetic gaze. You must be in a playful mood today. “San and Jongho will infiltrate the storage area while Y/N and Wooyoung will attend the auction to give San and Jongho enough time to retrieve it.”

“M-me?” Wooyoung stuttered, Hongjoong unaware of how your foot now brushed Woo’s inner thigh. The man in front of you swallowed the lump in his throat. What were you doing? He panicked.

“I’d send Yeosang but the attendees would know his face easily. So you’re Y/N’s lucky partner for the heist.”

“You don’t have to worry much, Woo. San and Jongho will have most of the action if things don’t go south. I’ll lead, and you,” you pressed your foot gently against Wooyoung’s hardening cock, fighting your smile at his somewhat pained yet turned-on expression. “Just follow.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, opting to give a nod of acknowledgment because if he had opened his mouth, he’d risk a very out of place sound at the breakfast table.

“Mingi will be monitoring the perimeter from the building across the venue. Ready to snipe should anyone intercept San or Jongho.”

Hongjoong went on but Wooyoung was struggling to focus. He could hear everything he was saying and he was taking note mentally of all the important details but the way your foot palmed at his painfully hard cock through his sweats was making his head spin. “Yunho will be driving the getaway van and Yeosang will bring his gear with him to hack into the security system in the van."

“And you and Hwa?” You leaned your head on Mingi’s shoulder, pressing just a little more, the perfect amount as you glide your foot against his cock. Wooyoung gripped the fabric of his sweats to ground himself. He tried to meet your eyes but you were conversing with everyone as if you weren’t giving him a fucking footjob between Yeosang and Mingi, and with San next to him.

“Hongjoong and I will take out two guards beforehand and take their uniform so that San and Jongho can easily get in.” Seonghwa answered you. “It should go pretty smoothly but we will act quickly should there be any…unexpected surprises.”

“I just hope I get to see you two in uniform,” you chuckled playfully, thinking of how lovely the sight would be. Despite the two eldest’s left behind military past, they have shared with you the official portraits of their time there. Strikingly handsome those two were. They even gave you the photographs for you to keep after they had noticed how long you stared at them in awe.

“Maybe you will,” Hongjoong smirked, winking at you playfully making you blush and laugh.

Wooyoung wondered how you were able to act like that... all effortless and pretty while you were rubbing his cock under the table. He was fighting back the urge to buck his hips into your foot for more friction. It felt good…so good. He could feel his precum dampening his boxers.

“Baby, eat something while you drink your coffee,” Mingi chided lightly, putting sweet buttered toast on your plate, berries and some cream.

You smiled at the care he was giving you, never ceasing the languid caress you were giving Wooyoung’s hard cock, and turned to Mingi. “Thank you, baby.” You tilted your chin up a little, the bigger man grinning before leaning down to peck you on the lips.

“Get a room.” Jongho fake gagged.

“Gladly,” Mingi smirked and deepened the kiss to irk the youngest even more.

Wooyoung’s cock throbbed at the sight of your plush lips against Mingi’s and the way they moved against his. You were the first to pull away, smiling so sweetly up at Mingi and pinching his cheek.

“I’ll start packing up my gear,” Yeosang announced to the group, taking his empty plate and getting up. He patted your head before discarding his plate in the sink.

“Me too.” Yunho chirped, doing the same as Yeosang.

“You guys can go ahead,” you told Hongjoong and Seonghwa who also were done with their breakfast. “Wooyoung and I will clear up.”

“Thank you, dove.” Seonghwa smiled, stacking his and Hongjoong’s plates before going about their personal schedules and preparation.

“You okay, Woo?” San suddenly asked.

“H-huh?” The man croaked out, his fist clenched tightly out of sight.

“You’re awfully quiet.” He frowned, his cat eyes trying to read his expression. “Are you in pain?”

Mingi and Jongho looked at Wooyoung worriedly while you had the audacity to pout your lips teasingly and bat your lashes at him, still rubbing his cock with your foot making the pressure in the base of his spine tightened further.

“Leg cramp.” Wooyoung shakily replied, forcing a smile. “I-I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so. This is why you should stretch after a workout. I told you ‘cool down’ is important.” San light-heartedly reprimanded, getting up and excusing himself from the breakfast table, leaving you, Woo, Mingi, and Jongho.

“What dress do you plan to wear to the bourgeois auction?” Jongho asked, sipping his coffee.

“I haven’t thought about that yet.” You hummed crossing your arms under your chest which pushed your breasts up and together, that teasing dip of cleavage along with the strokes you gave his cock, making Wooyoung’s head spin.

“How about the navy blue one?” Mingi suggested, playing with your hair as he took the last bites of his breakfast.

“That one’s too short, baby. Not very auction-y.”

“That one’s too flashy.” Jongho agreed. “It’s more of a night out dress. How about that red one?”

You glanced at Wooyoung and noticed how he was trying hard to steady his breaths in a way it was not noticeable by the other two men and you could see a vein in his neck beginning to pop out as his cock throbbed. His brows knitted together and his head was facing his lap, almost looking like he was in deep thought or trying to relax from the pain of his ‘leg cramp’.

He was close. He was so fucking close. Wooyoung hissed as he felt his climax near. All caution was ready to be thrown out the window as he reveled at your touch and the sight of you. Maybe he didn’t fucking care if he came in his boxers. How did Jongho and Mingi not even know what you were up to?

“Ohhh, that red one.” Your touch left him, the pleasure he had been feeling, that tightening sensation at the base of his spine as he got close to release, was ripped away from him.

“Fuck!” Wooyoung exclaimed, fist banging on the table making the two men look at him questioningly at his frustrated cry.

His head was thrown back at the ache of being denied climax. To the two men, it looked as if his leg cramp had gotten worse. Wooyoung leaned his elbows on the table, his hands gripping his hair as he breathed heavily. He looked through the thin curtain of his messy locks over to eyes to look at you. Your glossy lips were upturned slightly, almost tauntingly and your eyes glimmered with mischief, finding entertainment in his predicament.

“Dude, Wooyoung.” Jongho looked at him worriedly and a little confused. “You should get that leg cramp checked with Yunho if it’s that bad.”

“Yeah, we can’t have you pulling a muscle or getting cramps on the mission,” Mingi added. “You both can’t compromise your covers.”

Your legs returned to yourself and you crossed your left over your right. Will Wooyoung finally make a move after this? How far did you need to push him to finally have him confront you? How much self-control does he even have?

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Mingi. I know you two have some preparations to do for the mission. So go ahead, and I’ll clear up here while Wooyoung…rests.” You told the two men, smiling at them reassuringly.

“But I kinda do wanna get a room with you though,” Mingi murmured, eying you with desire. “Just a little y’know…quickie.”

“I thought you were back to baseline Mingi libido.”

“God.” Jongho groaned getting up and grabbing Mingi by the ear, completely unafraid of the much taller man. “You’re a fucking horn dog man. It may not seem like it outside but it’s 9 am in the fucking morning. Keep your wandering hands to yourself.”

Mingi’s eyes rounded in a childlike way, turning to you as Jongho was dragging him out of the kitchen.

“I’ll just clean up here and you'll have me soon enough.” You blew him a kiss, letting Jongho and his god-like strength pull him away.

You were amused they didn’t catch on…did they really buy the leg cramp?

Once they were out of earshot, you turned to Wooyoung.

He was slumped against his chair, finally letting himself breathe. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears and his whole body was hot with need. Struggling to compose himself, he looked at you.

His eyes had a hazy look in them, it was the same gaze you saw last night. His pupils were blown with lust, his cheeks were flushed and his lips parted as he softly panted.

Wooyoung stared. He blinked a couple of times to make his eyes focus on you. A part of him was annoyed that you just looked so neutral as if everything was okay. You had that small smile on your lips whenever you two spoke and that gentle captivating gaze that made one feel that what they had to say was very important to you. But right now, that gentle demure look taunted him.

“Your leg cramp must be really bad,” you finally spoke. “You should relax, Woo.” You got up and started to stack the empty plates on one another. “I’ll go put these in the sink and wash them, okay?” You smiled sweetly, reaching across the table to get his plate as well, knowing that it would the man a view of your breasts against the lace lingerie when you dipped forward. Will he finally snap?

While you walked over to the kitchen, Wooyoung glanced down at his lap, his painfully hard cock creating a tent in his cotton sweats. He was irritated. You had the fucking audacity to smile and act as if nothing happened? After whatever the fuck you just pulled?

You observed him from the kitchen, waiting for him to make his move but the man just sat there. Rolling your eyes, you made your way to him, the soft patter of your feet on the cold floor not making him look at you.

You’ll make him look at you.

“Hey.”

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath as something soft and warm pressed against his throbbing cock, ripping him from his thoughts and making him aware of the body perched on his lap. His eyes were wide as he met yours, confusion and surprise in them when you rested your hands on his shoulders.

“Look at me.” You whispered, running a gentle trail down the back of his neck.

“What are you—,” he started to say, trying to ignore the fact you were straddling his lap with your panty-clad pussy pressed against his cock.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” You took one of his hands, bringing it up to your chest and resting it atop your breast, making him cup the soft flesh.

“Why did you do that?” He asked, his other hand gripping your hip, using it to ground himself. His mind was screaming at the sudden closeness. The heat of your body beneath his palm, your sweet scent filling up his senses and the fact you were even touching him was making him want to really feel you, all of you.

“Do what?” You purred, bringing the hand that was on your breast away from your chest and letting his fingertips feel your warm lips.

“You know what I’m talking about Y/N.” He watched your every move, shamefully anticipating what you would do next.

“Do I?” You teased, bringing his thumb to brush your lips and before he could say another word, you took the digit in your mouth, sucking softly at it and swirling your tongue around slowly.

“F-fuck,” Wooyoung muttered breathily. His mind went straight to imagining what it’d be like to have your lips around his cock right now.

You released his thumb with a soft pop, his eyes on your pink lips. “Did you like it?” You asked him, running your hands up his chest.

What were you referring to? The way you were touching him under the table? Cause if he was going to be completely honest, he did like it. He was annoyed that you edged him but he fucking loved it. Or…was it about last night?

“You could’ve gotten caught.” He didn’t move his hands from your hips. A part of him was still unsure whether he should cross the line despite you having acted as if that line didn’t exist.

“Me? I hope you mean you, Woo.” You giggled, tracing his jaw. “Leg cramp? I guess that was believable. I mean the boys bought it. Want me to make it better?” You cooed, slowly rolling your hips forward, dragging your clothed pussy against the length of his cock, earning the reaction you wanted from him.

He shivered and moaned softly.

“I didn’t let you finish, did I?” You kissed his neck, the heat of your lips making his hips buck involuntarily. You clicked your tongue. “Behave, Woo.”

Wooyoung glanced at the doorway, anxious that someone might walk in on you two. Why were you doing this?

“Answer me.” You whispered, your voice sweet like honey as you stopped moving, giving him nothing once more.

“Y-you didn’t.” He breathed out, gripping your hips fighting the urge to guide them against his cock.

“Good boy,” you slowly rolled your hips again, finding yourself growing wet at the hardness of his cock. He was so stiff. Maybe you did feel just a little bit bad that you didn’t let him cum. “But you’re not that good aren’t you?”

“H-huh?” Was all he could manage to say, too distracted and drunk at the feeling of your hips grinding your core unto his cock. The friction sent swift shocks of pleasure throughout his body.

“Don’t act dumb, Woo.” Your soft warm breath was against his ear. His heart pounded strongly in his chest as it dawned on him that you were talking about how you had caught him watching you and Yeosang last night.

Fuck.

This was your way of confronting him about it? Having him wrapped around your finger by turning him on, teasing him to no end, and torturing him with the very thing he wanted most, you.

“I-I’m sorry,” he croaked out, moaning when you licked a stripe along his neck.

“Are you really?” Your voice dipped low, one hand that had been resting on his shoulder moving down to the waistband of his sweats.

“Y/N, we shouldn’t.” In his own head, you two really shouldn’t. “Y-Yeosang—fuck.” You freed his cock from his pants and boxers, his hard length slapping against his stomach.

You bit your lip as you glanced down while you had been kissing along his jaw, the sight of the pink angry and leaking tip making you grow wetter.

“Yes. Me and Yeo.” You softly placed your fingertip on the tip, mouth watering at the precum that was leaking out and spreading the slick substance all over the head of his cock. “You’re a little pervert aren’t you?” You wrapped your hand around his length to have a feel of him. He was hot and heavy within your enclosed palm, and thick. “Did you like watching Yeo fuck me, Woo?”

You squeezed his cock gently, his head following forward and leaning on your chest as he moaned. “I did. Fuck. I did. Y/N please.”

Fuck it. He swore to himself. Fuck it all. He needed to cum, he needed you to do something. Anything. His cock was painfully hard and the unmoving touch of your hand was driving him crazy.

“I like it when you’re honest.” You hummed with a smile, getting up. Wooyoung’s hands gripped your hips in protest, feeling crazed at the thought of you leaving him high and dry again.

But you didn’t leave.

You perched yourself on the edge of the table you cleared on your own. Your hands pressed against the surface behind you, leaning on them.

“If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you cum.” You told him with a smile while batting your pretty lashes at him.

God, he just wanted to fall on his knees and kiss along your leg and worship every part of you.

Wooyoung swallowed thickly as he nodded, wincing a little as the cold draft kissed his bare cock.

“Do you hear me and Mingi fuck?” The first question of your little interrogation.

Maybe if he wasn’t so on edge and horny, he would’ve held back and lied.

Shakily, he answered, “Yes.”

You hummed as you nodded at his response, his eyes widening when you pinched the skirt of your lingerie and hiked it up high, giving him a glimpse of your matching panties.

“Do you touch yourself when you hear us?” Your second question.

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Without any shame and his eyes focused on you, your magnetic eyes drawing him in your gaze, he wrapped his hand around his cock, an action all too familiar from the fantasizing about you all this time.

You hummed seductively and with his eyes on you, you did what you had done the very first night you two met. You brought your hand to your collarbone, tracing along it, his eyes following before you led them along your shoulder, slowly and agonizingly pushing the thin strap over the edge of your shoulder. The top hem dropped slightly, showing him more of your skin beneath the lingerie, the silk clinging to the curve of your breasts.

His hand moved along his cock, slowly, doing as you said, finding no relief from it at all. Not when you had pressed your cunt against it and wrapped your own hand around him just moments ago.

You licked your lower lip, adoring the sight of Wooyoung touching himself.

“Did you ever watch Mingi and I?” You followed up your next question. “Don’t move your hand too fast. We’re not yet done.”

Wooyoung slowed his hand down, still slumped against his chair but languidly stroking his cock.

“I did.” He admitted quickly, awaiting your next move to award his honesty.

You bunched the fabric of your lingerie to your waist, slowly parting your legs to show him your matching underwear. “When?”

Wooyoung bit his lip at the sight of your clothed cunt. Was your pretty pussy really on his cock a while ago?

He breathed out shakily, the stimulation of his cock in his own hand not enough to make him cum. “The first night you returned on this ship.”

“Get up.” You instructed him. “Come to me.”

Wooyoung let go of his cock and without any thought, walked up to you, now standing between your parted thighs.

You hooked your leg around his waist as you chuckled. “Closer.”

“Y/N…I’m sorry.” He said again, letting your hands guide his in where he could touch you. Despite the situation, he didn’t feel he had the right to touch you as he wanted or as he pleased.

“You must’ve tortured yourself,” you sweetly cooed, placing one of his hands on your hip before cupping his cheek, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. “Just watching from afar. Not able to touch me. Is that what you want? Do you want to touch me too?”

Too? Did you think of him touching you? Has the idea of being with him crossed your mind like his mind did?

Your voice was void of the sternness it had when you had been interrogating him. It was now sweet and inviting, gentle even?

“I’ve been wanting to touch you since the night we first met.” He answered, the very honest reply taking you aback and making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, Woo,” you murmured softly, bringing closer til the underside of his cock was against your clothed core again. “If you wanted me, you should’ve just said so.”

What did you mean? He couldn't have you in the first place because you were someone else's to hold.

Why was your heart melting so easily for him? You had been sure what you had felt for Wooyoung and what he felt for you was nothing but desire. Just lust. And yet, you were being as sweet as you were with all your lovers.

“Y/N…”He squeezed your hips, his forehead resting atop the crown of your own head, getting a whiff of the scent of your shampoo. He needed to fucking cum. It was taking everything in him right now to not hump his cock against your clothed heat. “Please.”

“I like it when you beg.” You softly whispered before leaning back and propping yourself on your elbows, his eyes raking you up and down your body. “Since you were so honest….” He watched as your hand guided his cock this o where you wanted him.

His breath hitched when you slipped his cock beneath your silk panties, the smooth fabric making him shiver. His cock throbbed when he realized the silk was slightly damp and slick.

“You can’t put it in though.” You told him, guiding the tip of his cock along your slit coating him with your wetness.

Wooyoung stared at where you two were touching. You were moving his cock head between your plush pussy lips and a part of him could’ve died at the way you softly moaned when you circled his tip around your clit.

Was this really happening?

He was snapped from his thoughts when your hand left his cock, your silk panties softly smacking against his length.

His cock was between your silk underwear and your bare heat. Fuck. Was he dreaming? He stared at the shape of his length beneath the fabric. Something about the sight was so sinfully pleasing to his eyes.

Placing his hands over your hips with his thumbs pressing into your inner thighs, he slowly moved his hips forward and back, his cock slotted between your lower lips.

You softly moaned as his length rubbed your clit. Languidly, taking his sweet time and drinking in the sight and feeling of his cock on your pussy, Wooyoung didn’t care that he wasn’t inside you. This was just as good. In fact, better than he could ever imagine.

With his thumb, he pressed his length against you a little bit more, applying pressure on your clit and making you whimper. Fuck. Hearing you like this was better than from afar. His eyes were glued to how his cock pushed against the fabric of your underwear, bulging against it and slowly it became more sheer as his precum and your wetness mixed together.

"Woo,” you moaned so sweetly, gentle strong shocks of pleasure rolling through your body.

He moved his hips a little faster, making your hips wriggle in his hold and moan again. Eventually, the sliding of his cock against your wet folds made soft obscene slick sounds. Only you two could hear it.

“Fuck, you feel so good against me.” Wooyoung groaned softly, his core growing hotter at the fact your cunt was drooling all over his cock. He sped up just a little bit more, making the two of you moan in bliss as your clit got stimulated by his hot and heavy length.

The sight of his pink tip faintly shown through the damp wet patch on your underwear was something he wished he could take a picture of for memory. Wooyoung panted. He wanted you so bad. Every sigh and sound of pleasure from your lips caused by him, made him fall even more for you.

“Don’t hold back, Woo.” You told him, softly yelping when his cock rubbed your clit a certain way making your thighs shake. “I-,” you began shakily, lying back down fully on the table, the delicious feeling of his cock making you fall apart so easily. “I want you to cum.”

“Fuck. Don’t say things like that,” he groaned, rutting his hips at just the right pace.

“Make a mess, Woo. I don’t care.” You bucked your hips upwards wanting to feel your own release.

“Fuck it.” He hissed, continuing to fuck against your panties and cunt surprisingly passionately.

You whimpered and slid your hands over your body, the movement making his eyes snap away briefly from where you two were touching. One of your hands softly wrapped around his wrist while the other cupped and squeezed your right breast. You were driving him crazy.

Wooyoung’s breathing grew erratic as that coil in the base of his spine tightened further and further. The slick wet sounds of your pussy along with your soft whimpers and moans egged him on, and he began to swear under his breath.

He can’t believe this was happening. Your moans grew higher in pitch and breathier.

“Oh my god, Woo, please.” Fuck. You sounded so sweet and perfect begging.

“I’ve got you—f-fuck, fuck, fuck,” he slowly began to lose himself, his hips moving on their own as he chased his release, the increasing speed bringing you close to the edge.

You moaned his name again. Something he thought he would never ever hear. Now that he has, he just knew it was going to haunt him forever til he can have you again.

You cried out as you came, covering your mouth with your hand as you whined at how he was still going, watching his groomed brows knit together and his eyes blink blearily down at you. His hair was a perfect swoop of mess on his head and as he reached his climax, his beautiful jaw tightened while a vein in his neck began to bulge.

He looked so handsome above you and something about the way he looked at you, made you feel something bloom and flutter in your belly.

“Ah!” A broken gasp and cry left his pink parted lips. His hips stilled, completely pressed against yours as he finally, finally, came. Hot spurts of his cum seeped through your underwear and dripped down and along your pussy, making you moan at the warmth of his release.

His mind was blank as he came, his eyes processed the sticky mess of his cock in your panties and the disheveled pretty undone mess you were on the dining table. You were panting softly at your own high, your chest rising up and down, making him stare at your breasts for a bit. Your nipples were perked and poking through the silk, and if the hem fell a little bit more he could’ve seen your pretty peaks. His eyes then moved to your pussy. He couldn’t help but hook his finger at the fabric and move it aside, still keeping his cock rested against your mound.

If he had asked…would you let him take a picture? Because the pornographic sight before him was something he wanted to imprint in his mind forever.

Wooyoung never thought that he would ever, ever, see this. His thick white cum dripped down your pink pussy, and some of it slipped over your entrance making it look like he had cum inside of you. Grabbing his cock, he moved his cum around your pussy with the tip making your hips shake at the added stimulation from the high you were still in.

This was dirty.

You propped yourself up on your elbows once more and reached down to your core. Your fingers dipped between your folds and you felt your walls squeeze around nothing at his sticky hot cum.

“You came so much…” you thought out loud, your voice slowly bringing Wooyoung back to earth.

You pressed the pad of your pointer finger against your thumb and rubbed it against one another, feeling the wet slippery mess of his cum, Wooyoung watching you hypnotically. Feeling his eyes follow your every move once more, you watched him as he watched you. He has always been watching you. But this time, you knew.

You brought your cum stained fingers to your lips and licked your digits, making Wooyoung’s mouth part just a little as a shaky breath left him. You hummed at the taste of him and it didn’t help that after you did that you met his eyes, and smirked.

“You’re really going to be the death of me, you know that.” He leaned his hands on the edge of the table, sighing.

You sat up, softly laughing, a sound that made his heart flutter. “Don’t say that. If you die, where’s the fun in that?”

That made him laugh with you, falling into this comforting and lighthearted fuzzy atmosphere. He barely even knew you. He didn’t know much except what you allowed him to know or what the other men could say about you.

Without thinking, he gently cupped your face, catching you off guard and staring at him with surprise. He didn’t say anything. He just…gazed at you in that way.

That same feeling that bubbled inside of you whenever San’s eyes smiled with his lips when he looked at you, or when Jongho held you with such care and protection whenever you two just lay down and talked with one another…when Yunho hugged you from behind whether when you two slept or when you’re doing work. When Seonghwa reads to you with your heart against his chest and your face buried in his neck under the fluffy blanket in the common room. When Mingi smiles and lets his goofy self out around you…or when Hongjoong shows you his poems and confides with you his innermost thoughts.

That special feeling of intimacy and love…what was that delicate beginning rush doing here too?

Wooyoung hasn’t been this close to you since the kitchen strawberry incident and every time he’s able to be this up close, he’s able to confirm that you’re real. That there’s warmth in your skin and that your gorgeous smile was something he could see every day.

“I…” he began, feeling his words get stuck in his throat. He was confused. He tucked himself back into his sweats and offered you a small smile. “I’ll clean you up, yeah?”

You nodded quickly, glancing at the doorway. The double doors were still closed. Maybe you should tell him the truth. About you and Mingi, Yeosang, and everyone else.

He returned with a soft towel. "May I?”

“Mhm.”

This was Jung Wooyoung.

Despite his burning desires, he was a caring soul and a gentleman. It’s kinda cute how slow he was to catch on but you knew the truth probably crossed his mind already and he was just in denial. It’s not everyday you meet 8 people all involved with one another intimately both physically and emotionally.

A scratching sound from the intercom interrupted the budding moment between the two of you, tearing both your attentions from each other.

“Y/N,” it was Jongho’s voice. “Hongjoong is calling you. Meet him in his office.”

You sighed softly, letting Woo clean off the cum that had landed on your lower abdomen. “Duty calls.” You hopped off the table.

“You’re a busy lady.” He chuckled, whipping his head away when he saw you shimmying your underwear down. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not going to go into Hongjoong’s office with cum stained underwear, Woo.” You huffed, stepping out of the fabric.

“Going commando is the better choice?”

“It’s not nice to keep the Captain waiting if I go get changed. I’ll just chuck it in the laundry room on the way there. My basket is already there anyway.” You shrugged and then smiled at him sweetly. “I��ll see you around, peeping Tom.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung defensively yelled.

You skipped out of the dining kitchen room.

What the fuck just happened?

“Oh, you’re all here?” All the men except Wooyoung were in the captain’s office when you arrived.

“You can brief Wooyoung for me later,” Hongjoong said as you walked into the room, standing next to Jongho who was sitting on the end of the three-seater couch facing his desk.

“Did his cramp get better?” Yeosang asked, standing next to San.

“Oh? He’s fine now. Don’t worry.” You answered, looking at Seonghwa who with his hand gestured for you to come closer to the desk where a digital map was laid out before you.

“This is the perimeter of the venue. It’s some rich Lord’s mansion. Since pretty important wealthy no good doers will be there, I’m sure the security will be tight.” Hongjoong began the briefing. Your eyes followed his pretty fingers as he pointed around the map.

You leaned forward a little to get a better look.

The sound of someone choking on their water, made yours, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa’s head snap to where it came from.

The pink-haired gunner was coughing and Yunho was giggling while rubbing comforting circles on his friend’s back. While San was staring at you adorably with wide eyes and Yeosang was pressing his lips together to stop his smile.

"Sweetheart..." San's ear turned pink.

“Y/N, you’re going to kill Mingi one day,” Jongho said, his eyes focused on you, his legs spread wide on the couch as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs.

“Huh? Why?” You blinked, tilting your head.

“Don’t you think a mission briefing is the wrong time to go commando?”

Now it was the Captain and Vice Captain’s turn to look at you with pleasant surprise. You felt the heat crawl up your neck and into your face.

“Oh, I…” For Wooyoung’s sake, you’d say a little white lie. “I must’ve forgotten…oops?”

Hongjoong shook his head fighting back a smile and grabbed his captain’s coat before going to where you were stood. From behind, he wrapped his coat sleeves around your waist securely. “Naughty little kitty.” He whispered only for you to hear, giving you a subtle quick kiss on the shoulder before returning to his spot.

“Y/N is not good for Mingbido.” Yunho chuckled.

“Mingi—what?” Seonghwa made a face.

“Mingbido,” Yunho repeated. “Mingi libido.”

“God damn it.” Jongho pinched the bridge of his nose. “You guys are so lame.”

“Hey! Speak kindly to your elders!” Yunho tutted, pursing his lips cutely.

“Elders? Okay, old man.” Jongho retorted.

“Hey!”

Hongjoong sighed before calling his members to his attention while you smiled at them sweetly. As much as he loved the way you looked so pretty and lovingly at them, you all have a very important agenda to attend to.

“Men. Focus!”

- feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly fangirl

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