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comatosebunny09 · 5 months ago

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apt 302 | sylus q.

— summary: at first, your new neighbor was as mysterious as he was handsome. after taking some time to get to know him—or forcing your way into his quiet life—you realize looks can be deceiving. — cw: gn reader, neighbors au, neighbors to friends to lovers, profanity, innuendoes, jealousy, misunderstandings, stalker ex, alcohol use, guns mentioned, self-indulgent, allusions to reincarnation, angst, pet names, sylus being an insufferable gentleman, slice of life — dividers by: @omi-resources — notes: this grew way longer than i expected, soooooo you’re gonna hate me for what comes next. anyways, thank you so much for reading! — now playing: my favorite person now - she was pretty ost — tagging: @alfredosaws, @chuppiechanchan @hao-ming-8 @antonneva @sunsets-and-crows @leighsartworks216 @grabby-smitten @nebulorra @minniestarmj @elysiums-light @saiaise @queenofstresss @beewilko @aetherscribit @libriomancer @world-of-hearts @awkwardnurse @huachengnism

Information Technology isn’t as cushy of a field as you initially thought.

Sure, you have a desk job doing the most mundane of things—working the help desk, troubleshooting devices, re-imaging computers. But your job isn’t without its drawbacks.

Sometimes, the days are long and arduous. The constant customer interaction doesn’t help matters; you’re a bit of an introvert, requiring five business days to recover from just a few hours of socializing.

So, forgive you for seeking a little respite in the form of your favorite set of pajamas and fuzzy slippers as you ease into your apartment.

The weight of the world sloughs off your shoulders when the door leading inside clicks shut behind you. You sigh gratefully, the sound of your keys clattering against your entryway table, intermingling with that of your AC humming to life.

You hang your bag and sweater on the coat rack. Trade your uncomfortable shoes for house slippers, the soreness in your heels slowly retreating. The last vestiges of sunlight creep through the slits of your blinds to bathe your home in its ethereal glow before ducking behind the horizon.

Your apartment is humble. Has a natural, minimalistic vibe with bits of decor displaying your personality sprinkled throughout. You already pay the price of a kidney and two lungs to stay here. No use investing in posh furniture when your job sometimes requires you to pick up and go at the drop of a hat.

Your stomach growls whilst you draw your curtains shut and turn on some ambient lighting via your phone. You’ll eat soon, you promise. For now, you’re on a mission.

Quietly, you move through your home in search of your laundry area, thoroughly prepared to slip into your PJs following a shower to jumpstart your weekend.

Too bad a pile of sopping wet clothes awaits you when you open your dryer door.

“Goddammit,” said under your breath as you mash the power button. It won’t turn on. Figures. You kick the offending appliance. Stupid thing must be out again.

You had set your clothes to dry before you left for work. You were looking forward to snuggling up with wine and your favorite show, donned in comfy clothes. Seems your dryer had other plans.

You should’ve replaced it months ago when it first started acting up. You had hoped to salvage it a little longer; appliances don’t come cheap these days. Besides, you’ve had a darling neighbor to fix it each time. To extend its lifespan.

Speaking of which—

Chewing your lip, you pad over your cold, hardwood floor to snatch your phone from the coffee table. Fall onto your couch cushions with a devious smile twitching your lips. It’s getting late, so you don’t think to badger him into tinkering with your dryer tonight. However, perhaps he’ll let you utilize his. At least until you can use your day off tomorrow to shop for a replacement.

You hover your thumb over his contact, his name flanked by crow emojis. Contemplate calling him, but what if he’s busy? This is usually about the time he’s leaving. Instead, you settle for opening your messaging app, already conjuring an excuse.

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): lol (Sylus): good morning to you too. (You): 😒😒😒 dude it’s like 6 (Sylus): 🤷‍♂️ (Sylus): im just now getting up. long day at the office. (Sylus): whats up? (You): are you busy tonight?? (Sylus): not really. 😏 what did you have in mind ? (You): pause. not like that (Sylus): 😢 (You): my dryer’s out again (Sylus): ah. want me to take a look? (You): nah you already do so much (You): is it cool if i use yours tho? 😬😬😬 (You): i’ll bring you booze (Sylus): lol (Sylus): its fine sweetie. doors unlocked. ill be in the shower. help yourself. (You): 🙏🙏🙏

You take your time gathering your saturated clothes into a basket. On your way out, you snag a bottle of Merlot from your fridge.

No matter how often you’ve been here, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how much more… put together Sylus’ place is compared to yours.

It suits him—the black and red furniture, the stylish accents littering his apartment. It smells delightful inside, a mixture of mahogany and amber enmeshed with remnants of food. Soulful jazz flows from a record player, fitting the sepia-toned glow of floor lamps and candles flickering on every other surface.

You toe the door shut behind you. Feel so small and out of place amid his decor. You’ve only recently started coming here, having spent much of your time together inside your apartment. Regardless, you navigate his space like it’s your second home, finding his washer and dryer set.

After starting your clothes in the dryer, you wander back to the living room, hands stuffed in the pockets of your cardigan. You take some time to admire the atmosphere. Fingers skim over the various vinyls organized on a built-in bookcase on the wall.

You snort with a half-smile. You know so little about your neighbor, yet you know just enough to be this comfortable with him.

He’s a music buff; that much is for sure. He’s clearly made of money if the luxurious furniture and his car are anything to go by. You don’t press him about what he does for a living. Figure he values his privacy above all else, unlike you.

You’re an open book. The primary yapper in your acquaintanceship, prattling on about your life and aspirations. And he just sits there, wordlessly nodding with a polite smile behind the rim of his glass. Where you would otherwise be wary of being in someone’s home like this, you feel safe around him in a way that almost terrifies you.

“Admiring the decor,” teases a voice from behind.

You jolt, spinning around like you’ve been caught stealing. You’re met with a smirk beneath scarlet eyes, twinkling with mischief. Strands of white cling to Sylus’ forehead, damp from the warm spray of his shower. He towels his hair dry, maneuvering around the living set towards you.

“Hey, you,” you greet, trying to play it cool. Like your heart isn’t hammering and heat isn’t branching into your cheeks. You attempt to maintain eye contact. It’s increasingly difficult to do so with his physique peeking through his t-shirt and sweats like that.

“Hey, yourself.” There’s amusement in the deep gravel of his voice. A smile in his eyes as he studies you, draping his towel around his shoulders.

You swallow. Try to divert the subject, motioning to his record collection. “You got some new tunes, I see.”

A chuckle is dredged from the bowels of his chest. You feel it pull in your stomach. “Sure did. Got something you might like.”

God help you as he reaches around you, the fine hairs littering your body standing on end, your mouth agape like a fish out of water.

Unconsciously, you step back, your spine softly thudding against the records display. Your heartbeat’s on a warpath, and you swallow against the dryness of your throat as the veiny, sinewy muscle in his forearm stains your periphery.

He gives you a bemused look before slowly peeling a record from the shelf behind you. Steps back to fish out the vinyl and settle it on the platter, replacing the record that was just playing.

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Good job playing it cool, dumbass.

“You alright?” Sylus quizzes with a raised brow. “You seem a little on edge tonight, sweetie.”

You sigh, schooling an unconvincing smile onto your face. Try to ignore how the term of endearment glides off his tongue so effortlessly. You wonder how many other people he addresses like that.

“Work was…rough today. Kicked my ass. I’m tired.”

A snarling sound invades the space between you, heard over the gentle croon of the new music. Your eyes fall to your stomach. You rub it placatingly. In all your haste to have some dry friggin’ clothes, you forgot to eat.

“And hungry, too,” you sheepishly add.

You glance up, and Sylus’ gaze tracks from your stomach to your face. He smirks knowingly, motioning with a nod toward his kitchen.

“Figured you didn’t eat yet. I made carbonara if you’d like some.”

You smile wryly at his back as he pads away, carrying the scent of cedarwood and bergamot with him. Where would you be without such a doting neighbor?

You track him to the kitchen. Leaning against the threshold, you watch him procure a bottle of water from his fridge. It’s so very small, dwarfed by his massive hand.

“I suddenly got called for a Teams meeting five minutes ago.”

Your heart drops, the smile nearly falling from your face. And here you thought you’d have his company over dinner.

Suddenly, he taps your nose, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed when he got closer, swaddled in the static of your bodies being so close. “Where did you run off to,” he rasps, searching your gaze for something.

The proximity of your bodies grows stifling, his warm breath glazing over your skin, dizzying. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he steps back, leaving you shell-shocked and utterly confused.

“In the meantime, make yourself at home. You know where everything is,” he says, brushing past you with an air of finality.

You strain your ears for the noise of a distant door shutting before you make your move, rummaging through his cupboards and drawers for a plate and cutlery. After you’ve scooped a decent helping of food onto your plate, you settle onto one of his velvet couches, cross-legged and shoveling food into your maw.

The fluttering of wings piques your interest. You’ve hardly any time to acknowledge him before a tuft of black, iridescent feathers shines from Sylus’ coffee table. The crow studies you curiously, ingesting you with his beady eyes before he preens himself.

“Me-fith-toe!” you greet around a mouthful of food.

Said crow ducks away, dodging errant crumbs and spit flying from your mouth, cawing in protest. You give him a rueful look.

Sylus has a soft spot for animals. You noted it the first time you entered his apartment, greeted by his boisterous companion. Funny; he doesn’t look like the type to have such an eccentric pet.

But Sylus has found numerous ways of pleasantly surprising you, revealing parts of himself to you bit by agonizing bit.

“Chicken?” you say after finally swallowing, offering a forkful of pasta to the bird. Mephisto scrutinizes the food before resigning himself to pecking at it. You smile fondly, your eyes crinkling with mirth. “Mephisto, you cannibal.”

Lulled by the occasional flap of Mephisto’s wings and Sylus’ even tone murmuring things of business somewhere far off in his home, you fall into a familiar rhythm, quietly waiting for your clothes to dry.

You spend the remainder of your evening in your neighbor’s company, drinking Merlot and judging each other’s music tastes, long after your pajamas have dried and settled in the dryer.

“So, have you boned yet?”

You choke on your waffle. Pound on your chest with the heel of your palm to dislodge it. You turn narrowed eyes on the source of the question. She merely shrugs from across the table, sipping her mimosa as if she’s asked the most innocent thing.

“Bitch.”

“What?” She appears nonplussed, setting her champagne flute down with a definitive clack. All serious when she returns your stare over crossed arms, and you know you’re in for it.

“You talk about the guy so much I figured you would’ve already, ya know…” The humping gesture she makes under the table is a bit much.

You blanch. “No, dumbass, I haven’t boned.” Your voice peters towards the end of your sentence. And you peer down at the napkin folded in your lap, heat prickling your face.

You won’t deny Sylus is good-looking. More like he could be someone modeling Prada on a catwalk. Can’t pretend you haven’t entertained the thought of being a little closer to him, too. More than just the late nights spent talking or him fixing something you broke.

You shake your head. Of all the times you’ve been tucked away in either of your apartments, he’s never made a move on you. Sure, he’s said some pretty suss things. Flirted with you outside of your usual banter.

And maybe he’s done things to confuse the ever-loving hell out of you—cooked you breakfast when you were drunk off your ass and hungover the next morning. Lended you one of his expensive record players. Shacked up at your place a few times under the guise of “coming to get Mephisto.” But—

Nah. He’s not like that. You’re just neighbors, right? Unofficial friends. Friends hang out all the time, right?

“He’s not like that,” you say brattishly, stuffing more food into your face. At least not with you.

You don’t miss your coworker’s fox-like grin spreading in your periphery. She taps her cheek thoughtfully, watching you like a smug sibling about to snitch.

“Sure, sure. If you say so. He’s still a man, though. He might not have tried you yet—”

“Hush,” you interject. The table shakes, cups rattling as you saw into your sausage with your fork and butter knife. You’re done with this conversation.

Try as you might, however, you can’t banish your thoughts revolving around him. Especially with your coworker watching you like that, silently egging you on.

He’s not that kind of guy.

He’s still a man, though.

You’ve repeated it like a mantra throughout your day, even as you mindlessly clacked away at your computer.

Work was a blur. An exhausting blur. Day gave way to the soothing exhale of night, and you were finally nestled in the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, on your couch, entertaining yourself with a game of Uno. It wasn’t much fun playing alone, but you needed a distraction from the mess of your mind when your favorite show couldn’t help.

It’s a quarter past 9 when a shuffling sound in the breezeway outside your apartment catches your attention. It’s accompanied by the echoed rasp of a recognizable voice, chuckling and murmuring indiscernible things.

You peel yourself from your couch as if on autopilot, nose pressed against the cold metal of your door as you peer through the peephole.

It’s your nightly ritual—waiting like an overzealous puppy to greet or send off your neighbor. You don’t always get the luxury of saying goodnight in person. Sometimes, he’s gone for days—weeks—at a time. You don’t know the semantics of his job, but you make it your mission to help assuage whatever burdens he shoulders whenever you can.

He’s there to help you, after all. Whether with a glass of wine, a warm meal, or his company.

So, forgive you for wanting to be a decent neighbor. And you would be tonight if not for the scene that passes through the fisheye of your peephole.

It’s Sylus, clad in something flattering and expensive. There’s no mistaking his broad back and shoulders. The purl of his voice, the wispy dusting of alabaster hair on his collar. But the smaller frame with him, well—

Your heart plummets into your stomach.

She’s pretty from what you can glean from the limited view of your peephole. Donned in a dress that’s form-fitting, voice high and light. Giggling silly things, fastened to Sylus’ side, held there by a virile arm draped around her middle. She’s drunk if the sloppy lean of her body is anything to go by. Sylus angles himself near her ear to whisper something, ushering in a new set of giggles.

You watch with your breath corked in your esophagus until they slide into his apartment together, their enmeshed voices fading from the stilled walls of the hallway.

Huh. Well, so much for him not being that type of guy.

You grapple with this new revelation, a furrow between your brows, hands falling listlessly at your sides. Numb as you drag yourself back to your couch, bouncing comically on the cushions.

You don’t even know why you’re upset. He's a grown man with a…life. You think.

It’s the first time you’ve witnessed him bringing someone to his place other than you, but it’s only natural for a guy like him to have options. He’s far from hideous. Has the gift of gab, for God’s sake. He’s charming and the very definition of masculine.

It just stings a little, knowing that it’s not…you that he’s touching like that.

So, you are definitely not flinging Uno cards onto the coffee table. Muttering things to yourself, gripping the stack in your hands so tightly, the plastic squeaks. What’s even got your undies in a bunch? The man’s not yours. You’ve never screwed around. Never really showed signs of wanting to, so it makes sense he would seek pleasures of the flesh elsewhere. His world doesn’t solely revolve around you as much as you would like for it to.

You’re halfway through a third round of angry card-flinging before a soft rap at your door nearly sends you some 30 feet into the air.

Stomping to your entrance, you peek through the peephole, and your heart works overtime when you catch sight of a wash of black and scarlet.

Internally, you scold yourself for how gullible you are. You throw the door open like you weren’t just cursing him and his stupid existence moments ago. Try to act nonplussed, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe with a haughty look.

Of course, he would smell good. Look good, propped against the threshold like that, an amused cant to his lips, his physique devastating beneath the tight cling of his turtleneck.

“Hey,” he greets, the sound breathy and easy like warmed honey.

“Hey, yourself.”

He studies you for a bit. Eyes flicker over your face, and you tamp down the sparkling rush of warmth that wades over your skin at the attention. Even when you’re mad at him, your attraction still finds an annoying way of creeping through the seams.

“This is going to sound incredibly strange, and feel free to tell me to piss off, but…do you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

You stand up straight. Blink owlishly, mouth opening and closing. “Huh?” is all you’re able to muster.

He chuckles, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this side of bashful. “Yeah. It’s a…bit of a long story, sweetie.”

“O-Okay,” you say, rigidly moving aside.

“Thanks.” The charm is back on, turned up to max capacity. He brushes past you into your apartment, falling onto your couch with a huff. Quirks a brow at the mishap on your table, the carnage having spilled onto the floor.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but were you playing Uno by yourself?”

You ignore him, plopping cross-legged on a floor cushion adjacent to him. Bypassing the tick in your brow, you look off to the side, fighting the embarrassment threatening to take hold of your visage. Shouldn’t he be across the hall, entertaining his company?

“Shut up and grab some cards,” you grumble to dispel the green-eyed thoughts stewing in your mind.

“Bossy.” But he doesn’t contest you, gathering the abused cards to shuffle them.

The remainder of your evening slides by with comfortable quips. With booze and a break to catch up on Love Is Blind—somehow, he’d roped you into watching it.

You had no idea he was such a sap. Nearly forgotten how miffed you were mere hours ago.

He assuaged your worries with an explanation as the sun crept over the city.

The girl in his apartment was an old colleague who’d gotten drunk and convinced herself that she was anything but.

Being a good samaritan, Sylus brought her to his place to sober up since the apartment complex wasn’t too far from the main strip of bars. He didn’t want any issues when she inevitably woke up. Messing with drunk people wasn’t his thing.

So that’s how he ended up here, inhabiting your couch like he’d always been a part of the decor.

He didn’t owe you an explanation. You were just friends. Still, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that twitched your lips after he cleared the air.

At some point in the morning, you both fell asleep. He looked all serene, too big for your sofa, but comfortable. You watched his lashes flutter from your place on the floor, his lips parting with soundless exhales. Even in sleep, he maintained that guarded aura, his arms folded across his chest.

You were bleary-eyed, gathering yourself from the hardwood to fetch a blanket to drape over him. He shifted, and he was so pretty with the sun bathing him in an angelic glow like that, his hair bright like a halo.

You were about to retreat to your bedroom when an abrupt knock tore you from your reverie. You glanced at your guest, ensuring he went undisturbed. He needed the rest. He was a night owl, and something about the sun vexed him, so he typically spent his days sleeping when you weren’t impeding on his time.

You moved to the door, foregoing the peephole to open it. Big mistake.

On the other side stood Little Miss Pretty from the night prior, impatiently tapping her foot. Her hair was flattened on one side, and her dress was askew. By the looks of it, sleep hadn’t been kind to her.

“Hi, good morning,” she sighed, schooling her expression into fake politeness. She straightened herself as best she could, but the white patch of dried slob staining her chin did little to help her plight. You bit back a snicker.

“I’m looking for a friend. He lives across from you. His name’s Skye.”

You quirked a brow at that. Skye? Oh, honey…

You wondered how many other people Sylus had fed a fake alias to. Or if Sylus was even his real name.

“Haven’t seen him,” you chirped over crossed arms. Pulled the door slightly closed behind you, barring the woman from getting a peek at him, nuzzled up so cozily on your couch.

She sighed with slumped shoulders. A childish pout warped her lips. Her voice shifted into something more bratty. “You sure? Tall guy, white hair, red eyes? You can’t miss ‘em.”

“Not ringing a bell, hun. Sorry.”

It was taking all of you to keep up this ruse. You were fighting so hard to tamp down your amusement. This woman reminded you of an antagonist in a Korean drama, the way she was kicking and huffing about.

“Where the hell did he go,” she groused. You watched her draw her phone from the pocket of her fur coat, your throat growing dry.

Your blood turned to ice when a familiar ringtone chimed in your apartment behind you. You stiffened comically; mouth hinged open with shock.

The woman’s expression morphed into one of suspicion. She tried to look inside your home, the upbeat ring of Sylus’ phone still flooding the uncomfortable silence.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to assert her way inside. “What the fu—”

“Hey, girlie. Back the hell off before I call the police,” you warned with a hand pushed to her sternum. She insisted on being unruly, so you snatched your taser from the entryway table, the telltale blue sparks and sharp whip of static causing the woman to jolt back with alarm.

“You’re both insane!” she shouted from the hallway, the stomp of her heels reverberating off the walls as she made her way to the stairwell.

With a relieved sigh deflating your chest, you eased the door shut. Leaned against it, glancing at the man of the hour. He was still fast asleep, his leg dangling off the edge of your sofa. You smirked knowingly, shaking your head as you disappeared into your bedroom.

You’d let him sleep for as long as he needed. And you’d give him shit when he awoke about his taste in acquaintances.

(Sylus): hungry? (You): a little. was gonna make some ramen if you want (Sylus): 🤢 (Sylus): that stuffs terrible for your digestion sweetie. (Sylus): how about i make you dinner instead ? (Sylus): at the supermarket. need anything? (You): 😲😲😲 (You): you keep spoiling me and i might think you like me (Sylus): 😏 (You): nvm. no don’t need anything. lemme know when you’re back (You): i can help with groceries (Sylus): now who likes who? (You): fkdkos (Sylus): ? (You): sorry fat fingers

You have a nasty habit of not using your peephole as of late.

Your apartment came with one for a reason. Sure, your neighborhood’s been pretty tame since you’ve moved here. But that doesn’t mean the occasional weirdo doesn’t slip past security, roaming the halls and startling the other tenants.

You’ve found yourself forgoing the use of it a lot lately, given the only person who typically knocks on your door is the guy across the hall. And he usually calls or texts before he bugs you, but that doesn’t stop him from being spontaneous. You suppose today is one of those such cases after he manipulated you with dinner.

Maybe his hands are full, you muse, unlocking your door. Though you’re doubtful he can’t handle a few bags. You’ve seen him in action at the community gym, thick cords of muscle rippling beneath a tan stretch of skin.

You draw the door open with a smile, expecting to see a customary thatch of white. What confronts you instead sends a tide of dread washing over your innards.

“Oh, thank God you’re home,” breathes a voice you haven’t heard in months. A voice that still makes your body stiffen, and your blood run cold.

When your senses return, you step back into your apartment, thoroughly intending to slam the door in your ex’s face. They’re quicker, however, wedging themselves in the gap before you can shut it. Grabbing for you, a crazed look warping their features.

“Baby, please! Talk to me! I miss you!”

You bat at their hand, trying vainly to crush them, to scare them off. It’s to no avail, and you wonder if they’re coked up, giving you a run for your money as they try to bully their way into your home.

There’s a softball bat propped on the wall, and your fingers brush the base of it in your attempt to grab it. Something to defend yourself since your taser’s out of reach, tucked somewhere in your bag.

The sounds of your struggle intermingle, your voice strained and panting, please please please, and your ex’s caught between sobs of your name.

Just a little further. Just—

Suddenly, there’s no more resistance in your door. You stumble against it, a wild look in your eyes. And then, there is the noise of a brief scuffle. Of a back being shoved against a wall, of rusting plastic bags, of “Who the fuck are you?!”

Amid your panicked frenzy, you glance up to see a back to you. Barring you from the view beyond your threshold, and your body’s awash with relief as you register your savior’s form.

“You would do well to piss off,” seethes Sylus, and there’s an edge to his voice you’ve never heard before. You feel it furling in your stomach, burning your lungs. And in this moment, you don’t know who to be more afraid of.

Your ex makes a sound of protest, but you imagine the cut of Sylus’ eyes deterring them.

There is the scuffling of shoes across the concrete flooring of the breezeway, and you listen with bated breath until the cacophony fades at the foot of the stairs, willing your heart to ease down.

Scarlet eyes shift to you, brows knit with concern. “Who was that?” Sylus asks, tone cautious as if he doesn’t want to startle you more than you’ve already been.

You right yourself, smoothing out the wrinkles of your clothes. Finally grab your bat, waving it intimidatingly as you step aside to let your neighbor in.

“My stupid ex. Just know you saved their life. ‘cause I was gonna—” You make swinging gestures, the metal bat swooping in the air. The corners of Sylus’ eyes crinkle.

“Slow down before you hurt yourself.” He kneels to retrieve the bags he’d tossed down in his haste to intervene. You scurry over to help, gathering up spilled food.

Once you’re both inside, the bags placed haphazardly on the counter, you’re seated on your sofa, nursing the rush of adrenaline still spuming through you like the hot rush of a geyser.

“You need to get a restraining order,” says Sylus. He emerges from your kitchen with a tense set to his jaws, two bottles of Angry Orchard clasped between his fingers.

Plopping down beside you, an arm draped over the headrest, he shoves a bottle into your hand, side-eyeing you as he throws his head back for a swig.

You babysit the cider, the crisp condensation of it serving to ground you. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m not asking, sweetie.”

You bristle under the weight of his tone, feeling much like a scolded child. You know this. Should’ve done it long ago the first time your ex took it upon themselves to do surprise pop-ups at your place—at your job.

“And an alarm system.”

“I know, I know.”

“I can take you right now to look for one—”

“I got it, Sy! Fuck, I-I got it.” You release a weighted sigh, warring with yourself.

Not only do you feel silly for being so lackadaisical with your life. But now, you feel even worse for the seemingly impenetrable silence that settles between you. You didn’t mean to yell, frustration and adrenaline having burbled to the surface. He was just worried. No need to take your emotions out on him.

Sylus exhales slowly, an unreadable expression descending onto his face whilst staring at the wall.

“Sorry,” you murmur, unconsciously patting his quad. You don’t miss how he stiffens; don’t miss the tight coiling of tendons in his neck. You retract your hand, instead drumming your fingers along the bottom of your bottle.

“I’m assuming this isn’t the first time this has happened,” queries Sylus in an attempt to dispel the tense atmosphere.

You shake your head, shrinking into yourself. Stare at your lap, pulling at some frayed threads in your bottoms.

“How did they even manage to get up here?”

You shrug. The security guards at the gates aren’t always the most attentive. Besides, sometimes, the pin pad leading into the lobby malfunctions, making it easier for anyone to just slip into your complex.

Unprompted, you begin to bare yourself, explaining the possibilities of why your ex showed up.

Sylus listens attentively. Doesn’t interrupt you, watching the subtle shifts of your expressions as you speak.

You tell him that things weren’t bad in the beginning about two years ago. How your ex said and did all the right things, and they were wonderful. But they wanted something you weren’t ready for. You had some growing up to do, so you broke things off. Moved to another city, started a new job.

You didn’t bank on them following you.

The visits were random at first. Occasional run-ins at the park, the bar. Things soon blossomed into something more concerning when your ex found your new address after you relocated to another part of the city to ease the stress of the commute.

This was their second time making an appearance at your door. You knew you should’ve done something to protect yourself sooner, but you didn’t think much of it then. Figured they would live and let be. Today proved otherwise.

“You’re grossly naive, sweetie.”

You snort before gulping down the remnants of your cider. “Way to make me feel better.”

He chuckles, and it’s comforting, your thighs pressing together amid your dinky couch. “It’s what I’m here for. But I could understand how you could drive someone to such extremes.”

You glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means…”

Before you know what’s about, he’s panning in, flooding your vision with the scarlet shine of his eyes. With the wispy dance of his lashes until his breath fans over your molten cheeks. Limber fingers sneak beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head back.

Warmth wades over you. Your breath swells in your chest. Lips purse as a mysterious shade of burgundy leaks over his irises. His voice drops a few octaves, husky, the sound of it pinching in your stomach.

“It means that you’re someone worth fighting for.”

You scoff, shaking yourself away from his hold. Ignore the bashfulness creeping into your face in favor of being a cheeky little shit.

“All right, Li Shang. Getting a little too serious over there.”

He huffs a laugh in response, popping up to grab another round of ciders from your fridge.

Ingredients sat untouched on the countertop as your evening eased by. You’d settled on a pizza, catching up on shows and talking, long after the moon had pinned itself to the center of the sky.

Sylus promised to teach you how to use a gun. He had plenty and would carve out time in his schedule to take you to a range. He didn’t press much after, instead letting the weight of your evening melt from your shoulders.

He was reluctant to leave you, even after sunbeams spilled through your blinds and you snoozed so quietly, cheek propped against his shoulder.

His hand never left your thigh. Possessive in its touch as he mirrored your affections from before.

It’s strange.

Today is your birthday. You’re enjoying yourself, filled with enough alcohol to tranquilize a small goat.

Your co-workers had dragged you out. Surprised you with dinner, a cake. Took you to the strip of bars lining the streets adjacent to your apartment complex. You were all smiles until your cheeks ached, and you’d nearly thrown up from laughing so much.

Still, you feel…empty. Like something is missing. Or someone.

You look at your phone for the umpteenth time. Scroll through your messages, reliving the moment in your head.

Sylus was the first to wish you a happy birthday. It made you swell with overwhelming happiness, knowing he’d woken up so early to be the first to say it. You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder when he sent a voice message of him singing “Happy Birthday.”

God, for everything he was good at, poor baby couldn’t hold a note to dig himself out of a hole. Still, you cherished the gesture, lying in bed for the first hour you’d been awake, replaying said message and rolling around your bed like an enamored teen.

Even now, you replay the voice note, holding the speaker to your ear. It’s hard to hear it amid the live band playing and the merriment around you at the bar. Try as you might to enjoy what remains of your night, you can’t keep your thoughts from drifting back to a certain smug figure clad in black.

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): hows it going birthday babe? (You): 😭😭😭 (You): u shuld be her e (Sylus) im sorry sweetie. i had some work to catch up on. (Sylus): you must be having a good time. 😏 (You): fuk wrk 🖕🖕🖕 (You): am not drink ur dronk (Sylus): lol. you sound plastered. (Sylus): do i need to come rescue you? (You): hum (Sylus): ? (You): hone (You): home (Sylus): 🫤 (Sylus): we need to have a serious talk about you enabling autocorrect. (You): r u (You): home (Sylus): about to be. why ?? (Sylus): sweetie?

Somehow, you find yourself staring at the glossy, black numbers embossed on the top center of his door. 302. It’s ingrained in your memory. You’d probably find your way to his apartment with your eyes closed, driven to it by the familiar smell and homeliness it exudes.

You’re still a little tipsy. Took some time to sober up as best you could before ditching your friends and catching an Uber back to your complex. You had enough sense to gather everything you’d shown up with. Didn’t hitch a ride with any strangers regardless of how many of them tried to pull you into their arms as you stumbled out of the bar.

You had a one-track mind. Only wanted to spend the rest of your birthday with him.

With a goofy smile plastered on your face, you knock on his door. You’re singing that infectious song you can’t get out of your head when it swings open.

“Apateu-pateu, apateu-pateu,” you chant, shaking your hips from side to side.

He greets you with an omniscient smirk, eyes softening whilst leaning against the doorframe. “Well, hello, birthday babe.”

“Sup!” you return a little too enthusiastically, pitching forward until Sylus steadies you with his hands. You giggle like a drunken fool, peering at him. Hadn’t realized how good his hands felt, searing through the fabric of your top.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t noticed many things about him before. His lips are a pretty shade of pink. Skin textured, nose sharp, cheeks high. Little flecks of amber dwell between the scarlet rinse of his eyes. His hair falls into his face, damp from the shower he probably had before answering the door.

“I take it you had a good night,” he says, gaze painting a steady triangle between your eyes and mouth.

“Almost,” you whisper back, surprised by the huskiness of your voice. You lose yourself in the idle stir of his eyes. In the fragility of his smile, and you feel so safe in his hands like this.

You don’t know what compels you to do it. To conquer the space of hot, dizzying breaths between you. But, you sort of…well…

Your inhibitions hit the floor. With your fingers wrapped tenderly around his wrists, you angle yourself closer to kiss him. You almost pull away when he stiffens. But he seemingly relaxes, and his lips cautiously move against yours as he unconsciously guides you closer.

You cling to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He encircles your waist in his powerful arms, fastening you to the hard press of his body. He kisses you like he’s waited lifetimes to do it, one hand molding around the apple of your cheek.

When your tongue sloppily prods the barrier of his teeth, he bristles. Draws away from you with a resounding smack, blinking wildly. You’re confused. Your heart sinks. You try again to draw him back in, but he gently pushes you away, shaking his head to dispel the bleariness. To chase away the spell that’s fallen over you.

“Baby, wait. No. Not…not like this,” he rasps through kiss-swollen lips, holding you by your hips. You’re wounded. A hot flush of embarrassment washes over you, and your brows knit together like those of a confused puppy.

“Wha-what’s wrong? Did I—am I—”

“No, no, you’re…you're perfect,” he soothes with a chuckle, a thumb gliding over your bottom lip. “Beautiful, even. I just…I don’t think now is a good time to do this.”

“Oh.” You deflate, a scorching film of tears clouding your vision. “Oh, okay. Um, I’ll just—yeah, I’ll go. I’ll…see you around, I guess.”

You slide out of his arms, too mortified to look back as you fumble with your keys. After he murmurs a hoarse, “good night.” Did you misread him before? Misinterpret his actions, his words?

You’re numb as you sink into your couch. Sobriety slowly creeps in. Stray tears blister your cheeks, but you don’t full-on sob. Can’t bring yourself to, instead laughing hysterically with your face buried in your hands, swallowed by the bleak loneliness of your apartment.

Happy Birthday, indeed.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #neighbor au #neighbors to friends #friends to lovers #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #qin che #sylus fluff #sylus romance #lnds x reader #love and deepspace fic #gn reader #apt 302/304 series

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tojisprettywife · 1 year ago

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{note: i rewrote this, with b.s.t (hope someone gets the reference 🧍🏻‍♀️) anyway i cried, it got deleted first. i’m sleepy, hopefully it’s okay. minors DNI.}

warnings: smut. characters! m! x f! reader. characters are aged up to 21.

inexperienced men. who for the very first time feel, what a pussy feels like. your gummy, warm walls clenching around his throbbing cock. the way he clenches his jaw and gritting his teeth, to regain composure from cumming almost immediately. “f-fuck…so tight ..”. your pulsing soft walls suck his cock in, barely holding himself up. the way his soft, silky locks fall on your chest as he’s hunched over you. only gasps, curses and more whimpers slipping out of his lips. “so.. t—tight.. shit..”. pushing his full length into, till the base, gripping the plush of your hips, a bit too hard, in meek attempts to stop himself from painting your tight walls white. after what seems like forever, he slowly moves his hips, each stroke, sending shivers down his spine. he leans down to kiss you, again in attempts to keep him from moaning loud. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, his tongue lapping yours. but soon, the kissing gets sloppy, saliva dripping down both your chins. he leans down, burying his face into the crook of your neck. his teeth grazing the base of your neck, as his hips erratically, in haste buck against yours. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, filling the room combined with his little whimpers and yours. “i-i’m cum-ming… f-fuck” he buries himself to the hilt, pushes himself even deeper, his tip bruising your cervix. his eyes squeezed shut, biting down your shoulder lightly. his cock, pumping ropes of milky, sticky cum. his cock twitching inside you, panting against your neck. just as he catches his breath, your walls convulse around his twitching cock, overstimulating. “o- fuckkk.. f..ck” barely able to form coherent sentences, slurring his words. burying his face into the pillow, beside your head, to stifle his moans. muffled moans, teary eyes as one hand gripped your waist tightly, bruising them lightly and the other hand gripping the sheets, crumpling them. his first feel of a vaginal orgasm. he presses soft kisses from your jawline to your neck, “it feels… so good.. one more time?.. please baby?..”. no longer will his hands suffice for him, as he felt what heaven feels like, you.

~ Choso Kamo, Gojo Satoru, Oikawa Toru, Nagi Seishiro, Inumaki Toge, Miya Atsumu, Yuuji Itadori, Kageyama Tobio + whoever you want 😵‍💫

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sixeyesonathiel · 8 days ago

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what happens when the pint-sized copy of gojo satoru fails the quiz his dad helped him review?

the door slams.

not shuts. not closes. slams—with the full, righteous fury only a small, betrayed child can muster. a tiny, furious body with too much emotion and too little upper-body strength, using every ounce of indignation to make an entrance.

a backpack ricochets off the hallway wall, landing with a sad, almost pitiful plop. you pause mid-slice, knife hovering above half a strawberry on the cutting board, sugar-dusted fingertips twitching.

from the living room, satoru blinks behind a pair of wire-framed reading glasses—askew on the bridge of his nose, balancing in the space where his usual sunglasses would sit. he’s sprawled lazily on the floor, legs kicked up onto the coffee table, wearing a pair of navy blue pajamas patterned with tiny mochi cats. an open manga flutters against his chest.

he doesn’t sit up. not yet. just slowly turns his head toward you, peering over the edge of the couch with the exact caution of prey sensing a distant predator.

“...was that the wind?” he asks, voice very hopeful.

you lift a brow, flicking your eyes toward the front hallway.

“baby,” you deadpan, “we don’t get wind indoors.”

and then—like a summoned curse echoing from the depths of a broken heart—a sound shatters the air.

a wail.

high-pitched. raw. as if the whole world had crumbled under a pair of light-up velcro sneakers. you barely have time to process it before—

“mamaaaaaa!! daddyyyyyyyy!!”

satoru flinches like he’s taken physical damage. the manga slips off his chest and hits the floor with a soft thup. both your heads snap toward the hall just in time to witness the grand, devastating arrival of your son.

he’s tiny. flushed pink from the cold or from his tears, it’s hard to tell. his white hair is a mop of fluffy chaos—tufts sticking up where little fingers must’ve raked through it on the playground, a single rebellious cowlick curled toward the sky like a question mark. cheeks blotchy. nose red. lower lip trembling so hard it casts its own shadow.

and he’s crying.

not sniffles. not whimpers.

crying. open-mouthed, sob-shattered wails that rattle the windows and tug at your heart. arms flailing, body stumbling forward like a tragic protagonist in a historical drama. his sleeves are too long—he must’ve tugged at them all day—and now they flap as he wipes his eyes with the cuffs, trailing streaks of moisture across the fabric.

your knife is already down. you round the kitchen island in record time and crouch, arms open.

“baby, what’s wrong?!”

he doesn’t just run into your arms—he launches himself, full body-weight, like a little cannonball of despair. his backpack thumps against your hip as he buries his face in your chest.

“i didn’t get ice creeeeeeam—!!”

you blink.

“...oh,” satoru says from behind you, having finally peeled himself off the floor. he crouches beside you, pajama pants riding up a little around the ankle. his hair’s a fluffy mess, eyes wide behind his reading glasses, mouth open like he’s still buffering. “you didn’t get what?”

“ice cream,” your son sobs, voice thick and hiccuping. “everybody got some ‘cause they passed the quiz and i didn’t—even though we studied!! even though we did the ming dynasty thing and daddy wore the stupid kimono!!!”

“it wasn’t stupid,” satoru frowns, indignant. “it was authentic.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “sweetheart, slow down. what quiz?”

“the history one,” your son says, sniffling miserably. “with the ming dyna—hic—sty and emperor yongle and daddy said if i remembered the porce… porcelain stuff i’d get full marks…”

you and satoru lock eyes.

oh.

that quiz.

the living room flashes back in your mind—satoru in a patterned bathrobe tied with your silk scarf, chopsticks in his hair, declaring himself emperor of all snacks. your son clutched his stomach from laughing so hard he rolled off the couch. satoru called it “immersive education.”

apparently... it wasn’t effective.

your son’s lower lip quivers again. he pulls back slightly to sniff, his little brows furrowed, his voice small and wounded. “it’s not fair… daddy said he was the best at history and he lied and now everyone got to go to the cafeteria for ice cream and i had to stay and read with ms. matsuda and it was boring and i don’t even like maps—”

satoru visibly stiffens. his head tilts.

“...oh no,” he mutters. “it was geography?”

you stare at him.

“wait,” you say slowly, turning back to your son, “you did the ming dynasty for geography?”

he pauses.

his eyes widen. he turns to satoru. horror dawns.

“...what?”

satoru clears his throat. tugs at the collar of his mochi cat pajama top.

“...oops?”

“daddy!!!” your son bellows, fists flying. he punches satoru’s arm with all the fury in his tiny frame. it’s like being attacked by a particularly angry cloud. satoru lets himself be dramatically thrown back onto the floor, flopping like a fish.

“argh!! fatal blow! betrayal by my own bloodline!!”

your son sniffles, shoulders rising and falling, too tired to be mad but too heartbroken to forgive. he plops back onto the floor with a heavy sigh, pulling his sleeves over his hands like a soggy little dumpling of grief.

“...so i don’t get any ice cream.”

from the floor, satoru grins.

“nope. you’re getting a whole bucket.”

you whirl on him. “satoru—!”

“what? he suffered, he deserves it.” satoru pushes his glasses up and cracks his knuckles. cursed energy begins to shimmer faintly around him, blurring the air like heat off pavement. “i’ll be back in fifteen. or maybe two. actually—let’s make it one.”

you gape. “you’re using your limitless to get him ice cream—?”

“and this is why you married me,” he says with a wink, and then—

pop.

he’s gone. air displaced in a puff of cool wind and sparkles.

you sigh. your son leans into you, cheek pressed to your shoulder. you wrap your arms around him gently, brushing your fingers through his hair. still soft from this morning’s brushing. a few crumbs from lunch clinging to the ends.

he tugs your shirt, voice muffled.

“...mama,” he says, “if i cry again, can i eat more scoops?”

you pause.

squint down at him. “that depends. are the tears real?”

he considers. long pause. then, with the gravitas of a stage actor, he pinches his nose and starts fake crying—loud, wobbly sobs that rock his whole body.

and then—pop.

satoru’s back. disheveled, pajama sleeves windblown, glasses askew, and arms cradling an absurdly massive neon plastic tub that smells like every ice cream flavor ever invented. it’s glowing. it might actually be radioactive.

your son stops fake-crying mid-sob.

“…score.”

satoru beams. “for my little emperor of the ming dynasty!”

you all end up piled on the couch, one tangled mass of pajama legs and sticky fingers. strawberry slices forgotten on the counter. your son curled between you both, spoon held like a royal scepter, dribbling rainbow cream down his chin as he proclaims flavor rankings with the gravitas of a judge.

“your majesty,” satoru intones, spoon raised high, “may i present the cookie dough scrolls of diplomacy.”

you roll your eyes fondly, head resting on satoru’s shoulder. “you’re such an idiot.”

he kisses your cheek, smiling.

“uh huh. but i’m your idiot.”

your son silently shoves a spoon in both your mouths.

he’s still sulking. a little. but the betrayal has been soothed by frozen sugar, warmth, and the fact that tomorrow, daddy promised to stage the tang dynasty.

correct subject pending.

a/n : i need to have his babies so bad nobody understands 😔🥀 yes you can't convince me he wouldn't teleport just to get his kids ice cream even if he's wearing ridiculous pajamas <3

#౨ৎ — flash reports #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #reader insert #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #dad!gojo

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knnichs · 4 months ago

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𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡

when does he realize he’s fallen inlove with you?

c. cyno, kinich, thoma, kaveh, ga-ming, zhongli, scara/wanderer, xiao

t. might be slightly ooc as this is a multicharacter hc, friends to … to friends LOL, fluff, wc 0.4k

as always, author notes at the end!

He realizes it when you are laughing along with him. The two of you hanging off the top of the cliff of a mountain that took hours to climb, sitting on the edge of the plank platform and feeling the wind glide across your hair. He smiles—looking at you with eyes filled with nothing but adoration. He slips a silent thank you for joining him, in this spontaneous hiking trip, for just being with him at this very moment. He loves you more than you’ll ever know, but he won't be able to say that outright no matter how hard he tries, often shoving those feelings down his throat in hopes that you would stick around a little more. Because what would happen if you ended up not feeling the same way? He’d rather have you with him, as a friend, than nothing at all.

cyno, kinich

You find yourself often helping him out with his daily errands for the day. You know it’s exhausting for him, carrying crate after crate, negotiating with the merchants, doing something after another. Your presence alone in these seemingly mundane tasks makes him look forward to these silly things that he once viewed as tiresome. He gets a few hours with you by his side, chatting about everything and nothing, smiling about the stupid things you see along your way—this one is just any regular day for you, but when accompanied with the racing of his heart as he sees you happy being with him, it's certainly a special day for him. One that he’ll treasure, deep in his heart.

thoma, kaveh, ga-ming, zhongli

He claims that it’s nothing. All your attempts at getting close with him, your frequent invites to go somewhere and coincidentally losing the third ticket that was supposed to be for your other friend, you insisting that you stay with him until the sun goes down—no matter where the two of you were. He knows it means something, but he doesn't want to be the one at fault for plain out assuming you liked him. I mean, out of everyone, you really chose him? He says to himself that he'd do his best to show his disinterest, hoping that would stray you off and make you rethink your decisions. He doesn’t act on that thought in the end, finding your presence much better than whatever the wind has to say. It’s too soon to tell you that he loves you anyway.

scaramouche/wanderer, xiao

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

oh brother i was debating if i should put sethos up on the first one… if you want to you can actually pretend that his name is on the list since i was ABOUT to do it anyway HELP !!! ANYWAY i have a volleyball tournament for the next two days ,, if we win then there will be another vb!reader post soon . other than that i really miss writing for the women of genshin impact sigh. i miss navia. i miss furina. i miss hu tao. i might make a part 2 girl kisser edition,, I REALLY WANT TO !!!!1!!! itll be so much cuter id literally pour my entire soul into it.. ANYWAY see you folks ill be back again soon with a better fic for the network & even more vb au,, my inbox will be open for brainrots & chatting and u can even drop in a request if you want, ill see if i can do it !!

#—stellaronhvnters.#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #cyno x reader #kinich x reader #thoma x reader #kaveh x reader #ga ming x reader #zhongli x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader

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zorosdimples · 1 year ago

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mdni. reader has breasts. virgin ga ming my beloved <3 i may write additional parts!

“is this okay?” ga ming asks breathlessly, broad hands slipping beneath your shirt to trace your curves. you’re straddling his waist, running your fingers through his tousled hair, pulled down between feverish kisses.

“more than okay. in fact,” you peel off you shirt then grasp his wrists, slowly dragging them up until his palms cup your exposed breasts, “this is even better.”

“oh,” he breathes.

his eyes are wide—spilled honey, sticky sweetness seeping into your bones. he sits in awe for a moment before gently squeezing, gaze darting up to yours, asking permission. the smile that curls your lips encourages him; he pinches your nipples as you pull him in for a scorching kiss.

you decide to play with the throbbing tent in ga ming’s pants, grinding down on him, lapping at and swallowing up each of his needy moans. his touch moves from your breasts to rest on your ass—until he jerks away as though burned.

“shit, i didn’t ask. i’m so sor—”

you cut him off by brushing your lips against the freckle that dots his neck; he shivers. “you can touch me wherever you want,” you whisper against his skin.

ga ming flushes at your words, cheeks and ears turning a dusky rose. his hands drift back down to your ass and knead the flesh. you whimper at the sensation and he bucks up against you before chasing your lips. he lazily bounces you on his lap, spit dribbling past his lips and smearing, glistening on your chin. you both speed up your movements, panting into each other’s mouths.

“this feels—oh, archons,” he whines through gritted teeth before his cock twitches and wetness soaks through your clothes.

his neck is scarlet and he throws an arm across his face. “gah, i can’t believe i did that,” ga ming huffs. “sorry.”

you tug at his arm before standing up. “what are you apologizing for?” you shimmy out of your shorts and underwear and watch his adam’s apple bob. “we’re just getting started.”

#pls don’t flame the writing i wrote it quickly #gaming x reader #ga ming x reader #ga ming <3

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deathfavor · 7 months ago

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He Xuan chooses to observe as she laughs ; carefree and easy as the breeze. What does a summer breeze know of the ocean's burden? It can't, and it doesn't. It floats easily through flower fields, unaware of the pressure of black depths. He lets her laugh and does not chide her for it. Instead he favors refilling his sake cup in the mean time. ANYTHING that lets him focus on something tangibly here and now.

" Mm? Friends? " True to his typical behavior, he feigns ignorance before simply shrugging. " I don't know. " Maybe it is reason enough for that kind of question. Either way, he's content to leave it as it is.

The Wind Master's words fall like an unexpected blow to the head ; an otter that smashes open a clam's shell to reveal the vulnerable creature beneath. He visibly stiffens before he can conceal it - but at least does not lash outwards like He Xuan the Ghost King would. Because right now he's THE EARTH MASTER. Except he hasn't talked about his sister in centuries and never since his death. Not to anyone. His shoulders slump, a crack in the stoicism. He doesn't trust his voice.

" She never got to see. " He doesn't mean to say it but he does. IT SLIPS OUT LIKE A MINNOW BETWEEN SHARK TEETH. Ultimately, it's fine because plenty of people lost family members to tragedy. It's not like it's unique. It wouldn't be unique to the Earth Master, and it wasn't unique to poor He Sheng before he became He Xuan. At least she never saw what he became, either. It's perhaps the ONE MERCY those in his life were given. They never saw his complete demise.

Would she be proud? He thinks they'd all be PAINED and SAD.

He lifts his head, gazing towards her and finds relief in the ability to turn the conversation away from himself. " I'm sure it must have been quite thrilling. Especially with his initial and continual success. " He Xuan responds carefully. lifting the cup of sake though not yet drinking any more of it.

And there it is. The CARELESS ASSUMPTIONS that become blades buried into him. In some ways, the words hurt more than the blades and fists he felt when dying. That had only been physical, and he'd stopped feeling. Words lurk, they can inflict damage centuries later like an illness that lays dormant until it is activated again. " I think they were. " He finally manages after a few seconds. " I'm sure that yours would be too. How could they not, if they knew? Two children ascending? Such fortune. "

What would his life had been like if he'd had even a tenth of that fortune?

"...On occasion. " He finally admits. He can hear the memories almost, yet her voice has gotten weaker and distorted over time - centuries adding static and gaps to the sweetness of her laughter, to the glow of lanterns, and the muddy streets. He no longer remembers certain details despite his efforts. Time erodes all, and even GODS and GHOSTS aren't immune. Which is rather ironic considering a ghost is something removed in a way. " I wasn't a very good dancer. Too stiff. " That still hadn't changed.

⌜◈⌟ ▌ ── 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐡𝐢 𝐐𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐭. If there was one thing she's learned about Ming Yi, it's that he's mastered the art of deflection. So when he does begin sharing this memory with her, she sits up straighter. Surprise fans away the thicker layers of her tipsy haze. Delight settles in next, stretching her lips into a smile so wide her cheeks ache. The Earth Master has a little sister! How adorable. The juxtaposition is just too much: the moment she pictures a younger Ming Yi, still stoic as ever, soaked to the bone and caked in mud with a giggling little sister tugging at his sleeve, she bursts into laughter.

"𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫. This Wind Master won't let a single soul know. Your face can remain as thick as it already is, Earth Master Yi."

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐡𝐢 𝐐𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. While he had never shared any part of his past with her before now, the image it had painted within her mind was all too familiar. Playful little sister and studious older brother. Hadn't that been her life as a mortal, too? What a happy coincidence that the two of them had become friends.

"𝐖𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬!" she echoes her own thoughts when returning the favor of answering his question. "Isn't that reason enough to ask?"

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. Resting her cheek on a forearm, she regards him through mussed bangs and drink-heavy lashes. Her grin mellows to a fond smile. "She must be so proud of her ge. I know I was proud of mine when he ascended. He worked so hard."

𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝. There had been no greater joy than seeing her brother return safe and sound. She would happily endure his scolding about dirtied robes and careless behavior if it meant they had lived through another day. Had Ming Yi's sister tried her best to wait up for him on long nights of studying as well? Had she tried to wake at the same hours as him? She wants to ask, but her tongue lays heavy in her mouth. An ache that's lain dormant for decades reawakens, throbbing against her ribs until it's indistinguishable from the beat of her heart. Discussions of family doesn't arise often in the Heavenly Court. Even if they did, few could stand to tolerate hearing about the dreaded Water Tyrant (and she's not sure he wouldn't throttle her for muddying his reputation with childhood stories). She had forgotten how bittersweet the subject could be.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝. I hope mine would have been." A whisper of melancholy threads itself through her voice, so slight it hardly exists at all. Mischief chases it away when she probes, "Sooooo... did you ever dance with her?"

#deiscension #answers 1000 years later #this makes things so so much worse for the future :)#the unintended vulnerability that he lets slip #the fortune and fate that shouldve been his naturally #ALAS #᛭ — [IC] cruel and cold like the black waters [HE XUAN]#᛭ — [VERSE: MING YI ERA] playing with a flawless disguise [HE XUAN]

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lotusloong · 1 month ago

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Bāba Wukong Headcanons!

Hnnggg I can't stop thinking about Sun Wukong just absolutely dying inside to be a bāba. He wants to have so many babies with you, and being immortal means you have plenty of time~

(I swear I am working on requests as well, this idea was just bugging me non-stop this past week. I do also have 1 or 2 requests that ask for similar ideas, but I'll be dedicating more time to those asks individually :3)

Sprinkles of smut and talks about baby making and baby raising ahead. You have been warned.

Reader is written with a female body in mind and is referred to with feminine titles like māma.

LMK Wukong -

So you already technically have a kid.

MK is an amazing successor and you both love him so much you're willing to die to protect him.

He may not call you and Wukong his parents, but you like to think of him as your first official son. (MK totally wants to call you both bāba and māma but is waaaaayyyyyy to embarrassed by the thought. What if you think he's weird, what if you don't see him that way, what if what if what if-)

Mei eventually helps with this issue, and you both now get to officially call him nicknames and tease him and guide him like good parents do.

And then the day comes where Wukong has to acknowledge (at least to himself) that he desperately wants more kids with you.

It's a secret he's tried to keep buried for thousands of years at this point, because he doesn't want to push anything onto you. The time period you both come from had certain expectations of wives, and Wukong is not about to force that on to you.

Even so, it slips out in small ways that he's not even aware of, that you very much are.

Sex often includes doggy style and mating presses, anything to get your hips angled up and womb angled down for him.

His hands grip your hips and pull you close, his happy trail of fur tickling you clit as he cums balls deep inside you.

There are times where he forgets himself, that you can hear him, and he will growl and huff in your ear - “Fuuck, take it all baby…gonna fill you up, such a perfect pussy, so good for my little ones-...”

He will not move after cumming, keeping his softening cock inside your fluttering walls because an instinct inside is telling him he has to stay still. If he moves, all the cum he just pumped you full of will spill out and that's not allowed.

He will not acknowledge this about himself. Denial is not just a river in Egypt, it flows strong in this monkey’s brain.

The best thing you can do is pull him aside and ask him straight out if he wants kids.

“Wh-what!? Pffftt, no! No, of course not that would-...I mean they’d be really cute…and have your eyes, and your cute nose…and maybe my fur color? And MK would make such a good big brother…Bu-but that's crazy! I wouldn’t force you into such a thing-”

Why does he assume you would be ‘forced’ into it? You never told him you didn’t want kids after all.

“O-oh…I guess that's…right isn't it? Uhhmm…”

You laugh and take his hands, bringing them up to kiss his knuckles. There’s a steady growing blush on his face now.

You ask your king to take you to bed, you’re ready to add some new members to your large family.

HIB Wukong -

So again…you do have children already.

Liuer does still have Fa Ming as a parental figure, but the little girl he rescued has no one left. Liuer asked if you could call her Hua, and neither of you could say no to him.

And so your little family settled down on Mount Huaguo. Liuer was excited to see the famed home of his hero and would carry Hua with him everywhere to see all the flowers and fruit trees and of course, the monkeys.

Wukong would follow them around the whole place, climbing up trees and standing off to the side with an air of nonchalance, but you could see how carefully he was watching the two. Hua would stumble only the slightest bit and he was down next to her, hands holding her up to prevent any skinned knees or palms.

It was, to put it simply, absolutely friggin adorable.

You would spend your time watching them, but little did you know Wukong was watching you as well.

Everytime Liuer ran over to you and hugged your legs like he was born a monkey, everytime Hua fell asleep curled in your arms, everytime they got a cut or a scrape you were right there to kiss it better and soothe them.

And it was driving Wukong up the wall.

This wasn’t something he thought he would ever want, and yet his thick walls were broken down by these two kids, walls that up until now, would only lower for you and you alone.

Now when he watches you walk through the peach tree orchard with Hua sitting on your waist and Liuer dragging you by the robes of your hanfu, all Wukong can see is how motherly you are. How much he loves the three of you.

How desperately he aches to see your tummy round and swollen with a new little one.

He shoves those thoughts away, frustrated with himself. Taking care of two kids is already a lot of work, and you didn’t even have to do the harder stuff like actually going through pregnancy.

And yet, everytime you two get together to be alone for a little while, the thoughts come back.

You’re currently sitting on top of him, hips rocking over his cock, his hands gripping your waist as he watches your tits bounce in front of his face. And suddenly he’s imagining those same tits leaking milk for your little ones, and he wants a taste so bad his mouth runs dry. He imagines your belly, round and big making it hard for you to keep your pace and your frustrated pout at not being able to make yourself cum. How he would lean up and kiss you, teasing about how much of a pillow princess being pregnant has made you, and your retort about how growing another living being is hard work. He’d take pity on you and roll you over, giving you the release you desperately crave, and definitely deserve.

Your hips stop moving.

“Everything okay my love? You…you looked distant.” You’re biting your lower lip in worry, and suddenly everything comes spilling out.

He wants more kids with you, he wants to see you pregnant, caring for more little ones that look like perfect mixes between you both. He wants to teach Hua how to properly hold a baby and see the look on Liuer’s face when learning he’s going to be a big brother.

Wukong is worried for a moment that he’s let too much slip, that you’re going to get off him and leave, tell him that you can’t do this anymore, but only for a moment.

Your hips start rocking again, and you give a breathy moan.

“W-well…we better get started then, right?”

The groan he gives in response is answer enough.

MKR Wukong -

Honestly, Reborn!Wukong is so oblivious to how relationships and families work, he doesn’t even realize that having kids is something he wants until someone else brings it up to him.

Namely you, albeit without thinking about it.

You’re in a marketplace of a small town, grabbing supplies for your journey like dried fruits and meats, herbs for cooking and medicine, and some new clothing.

The new clothing is where it starts.

As you’re browsing the different garments that have been made and the bolts of cloth the tailor left out for purchasing, Wukong stands behind you with his arms crossed and a stalk of grass in his teeth to chew on while waiting for you. One of the tailors is currently sewing something up and it grabs your attention.

“Oh this? One of our neighbors just had their second child! Since the winter chill will be here any day, I’m making something small but warm for the little one.” And they hand you a tiny robe thick enough for the coming winter.

You coo over the clothing, about how small and adorable it looks, and “Oh Wukong, look at it! It would look so cute on the babies at Mount Huaguo, wouldn’t it?” And now he’s looking at the tiny robe and imagining a mini version of himself with your sweet eyes staring back at him and sucking their thumb as you coo over how cute they are.

He tosses his grass stalk into the road and grunts at you, an affirmative noise that means he’s listening even if he doesn’t look like it. You beam at him in response, and hand the robe back to the tailor before going back to your shopping.

For hours afterwards, long after you get back to your companions, the thoughts of baby monkeys and you stick in his brain, making all his thoughts feel slow and difficult to think through. He just wants to see you holding a baby now.

His baby.

It doesn’t help that once you get back to your meager campsite, you coo and fuss over Fruitie like he's a baby of your own and not a thousand year old spirit of cosmic power.

He struggles to get you alone that night, pulling you away from your camp with urgency you recognize and tease him for.

“Can’t wait any longer, big guy~? Alright, alright I’m coming!” You giggle, letting him lead you far into the trees for some privacy.

He pushes you to bend over and lean on the bark of a tree, pulling your robes off carelessly to get to your skin as fast as possible. He takes you like that, laying his chest across your back and biting the juncture of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist to hold your shaking form up as he pounds you from behind.

You cry and moan for him, he shudders and growls above you, tail thrashing. ‘Breed mate breed mate breed breed-’ is on a loop in his mind, the image of you heavily pregnant driving him feral.

He keeps his teeth buried in your neck to stop himself from moaning these thoughts out loud. Eventually he’ll have a proper talk with you about it, when your journey is finished and kids are a possibility he can enjoy.

NGNR Wukong -

Now with Nezha Reborn!Wukong things are a bit…complicated.

Before the events of the movie? You both spend years living from place to place as China grows and changes and adjusts to modern times, it wouldn’t be surprising for Wukong to bring up the topic of kids at some point and then you have them by the time the events of the movie play out.

But if for whatever reason you decided to hold off, the events of the movie make you feel glad you did. If I recall correctly they don’t actually give a time frame in the movie for how long the mortal world has been in a drought, but based on the world building we know it’s a couple generations of people, at least.

So long in fact that they have special machines and “government” approved systems in place to distribute water. These are hard times to raise a family in.

It isn’t until Li releases the river dragons and rain comes back to the world that Wukong shyly broaches the topic of kids again. Not before whining to Li about it while black out drunk of course.

“I jus-….so beautiful Li!! She’d make a great ma-mama, I kn-...know it! I want it so baaadddd-” Li can’t believe the yaoguai laying dramatically across the couch infront of him, nursing a bottle whiskey like it is a baby, crying about how beautiful you are and how gorgeous your kids would be…is THE Monkey King. What is his life?

He decides the god has had enough to drink for the night and throws Wukong’s arm over his shoulder, ready to walk him home. He has to endure even more gushing about you the entire way back.

“Have you seen her-...her smile!? Li, it’s so beau…just, damn…and those hips, fuck I love her hips-want to grab em and-” “Okay, let’s just focus on getting you home and not tripping, hm?” “I don’t mind tripping if it’s on top of my pretty mama…baby girl…hmmm, she’s so soft, you know-?” “Please shut up.”

When Li finally gets to your place he shoves the stone monkey into your arms the second you open the door.

“Heeeeeyyy baby mama~! Lookin’ so…so pretty-” You laugh at the state of your husband, blushing at his muttered compliments as he buries his face into your chest. You give Li a questioning look. “Please just…give him a kid or something so I don’t have to listen to him ramble on like this anymore.”

Jokes on him, it doesn’t matter how many kids you two have, drunk!Wukong is always going to take the opportunity to gush about you. It just gets worse when you actually have kids cause now he has more to ramble about loving.

The following morning while nursing his hang over you broach the topic.

“So…Li said something interesting last night…” “...hrm…?” “Something about giving you a baby to gush over~?”

He freezes in place under your bed covers, peeking out to meet your gaze. His wild mane of white hair is more untamed than usual as he rubs his temples to banish the pounding he feels in his head.

“I…may have mentioned something like that…?” He mutters. You lean over the bed to him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before rubbing your noses together to look him in the eyes.

“When you feel better, how about we give it a shot, hmm?” His only response is a delighted chirp.

Netflix Wukong -

Okay out of all the Wukongs, I really think Netflix is the one who would want kids the most.

To the point that if you didn’t want kids, it may end up being a deal breaker on the relationship for him. Other Wukongs I can see being more willing to let it go, as long as they have you it’s a desire they can sacrifice, but Netflix wants a family so badly.

I mean, the first thing this guy did when he was born? Try to get himself adopted by a random mama he never met. Then when he’s older he has an entire fake family made of plants to “love” him.

Having a loving partner and a couple to a dozen kids to come home to and greet, who are just as ecstatic as him to be reunited? That’s the dream for him.

He’s learned his lesson from the Immortals, no matter who it is he tries to impress, from mortals to the Jade Emperor, none of them will truly “accept” him.

Except Stick and you, of course. You and Stick will always be there for Wukong.

It’s actually Stick that helps him acknowledge this desire instead of just brushing it off the way he normally does when it comes to emotions.

Back at Mount Huaguo, you’ll be there, trying to settle into your home with your mate. It’s been years since he’s been home, and things have changed considerably. The tales of his exploits have been passed down through his people, and the ones still living on Mount Huaguo grew up hearing stories about him. They genuinely admire and revere him. (Is Wukong slightly bitter that he never got to see the old man’s face after being proven wrong before he died? Yes. Yes he is.)

Many of the young mother monkeys want to spend time with you, ask about your adventures with their king, and chat throughout the day. As you talk their little ones crawl and scamper around you, chittering and climbing into your lap for cuddles you freely give.

When Wukong and Stick come across the sight, Stick does what he does best. Give Wukong an idea.

“Stick vibration noises.” “Huh? Oh yeah, yeah it is…really cute…heheh, look at em all. She’s so good with ‘em…” “More stick vibrations.” “I mean…the topic of kids came up a couple times…and we’re nice and safe here…” “A final Stick vibration of acknowledgement.” “You know what? You’re right! I want some, she wants some. Let’s do it!”

And when he brings the idea up to later that night, that he wants to finally get started on that family, you’re overjoyed. He catches you when you jump into his arms, laughing as you pepper his face in kisses.

When he takes you to bed that night, the love making between you both is soft and sensual. You whisper in his ear to cum inside, and the words actually get him emotional. You want to stay with him, you want a family with him. You’re currently holding him close to you, your heartbeat pounding against his and your legs locked tight around him as he melts into your heat…

It’s too much, too overwhelming. He cries as he cums, kissing you like he can’t breathe without your touch.

When you finally catch your breath, simply wipe his tears away with your thumbs and kiss his nose. It’ll be an emotional night, but it's one of the most tender and sweet ones you like to remember.

#Sun Wukong X Reader #Monkey King X Reader #Sun Wukong #Monkey King #Lego Monkie Kid #Monkey King Hero is Back #Monkey King Reborn #New Gods Nezha Reborn #Netflix Monkey King #I wanted to do Black Myth as well but...that story is so complicated #I wasn't sure how to tackle it #TW Pregnancy #TW Pregnancy Mention #My Writing

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sableicous · 3 months ago

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ෆ

triple h ! fucking the authority

minors don’t interact

thinking about ceo! hunter catching you masterbating in his office. he’s so crude wanting you to show him how you play with yourself.

“will you ever behave?” he knew the answer was no ,and you wasted no time sliding your panties to the side. wetness coating the fabric as he sat in front of you eyes low, and balancing on the balls of his feet.

you could feel his breath against your pussy a low wine escaping once the pad of your fingers came into contact with your clit finding a rhythm.

“pretty doll.” he grips the phone tightly wanting the camera to capture how good you made yourself feel. the bitter chill in his office perking your pretty nipples and kissing your leaking core.

with shaky hands you slide a finger into your pussy not long before you add another the fullness sending your head back and clenching your chubby thighs together.

“atta girl, you’re so wet for me. go on let everyone hear you.” you moaned at his words both digits working faster inside of your gummy walls as your cream pooled on the oak table.

“hunter.” his name fell from your pouty lips desperately wanting to feel him in any capacity. the lewd sounds of your cunt and calling his name perks his interest coming to wrap his free hand around your throat.

with a blurry vision the camera captures the glob of spit that lands on your clit glistening your folds as you fucked yourself into your hand. cheeks flushed and falsies damped with tears as the man above you smirked.

“gonna cum for daddy?” hunter knew you were close that ditzy expression and bubbly feeling in the pit of your stomach on the verge. all you could do was whimper hunter placing his forehead against yours as he strums your clit.

white toes resting on his shoulders watching three digits slick with arousal slam in and out of your needy cunt opening your mouth to catch his spit and swallow gingerly.

“i’m cu-m-ming” you could barely finish your sentence wetness slipping out of you and splashing his expensive cufflinks as expletives spat from the man. fingers working towards overstimulating his pretty girl and kissing your plump lips drowning out your cries.

with a gasp you came again body trembling and head resting into his chest as hunter kissed your temple a sweet gesture before the real fun began.

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luvt0kki · 1 year ago

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004 | burning desire

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

I don't wanna know, if you're playing me Keep it on the low Cause my heart can't take it anymore And if you creeping, please don't let it show

🎧: creepin' - the Weeknd

previous | 004| next

pairings: ot8 x f!reader ( K.Y.S x reader)

w.c : 7.7 k ( sorry for any errors)

cw: mature, ,minors do not interact, nsfw, reader is afab, mentions of assassination, hinted violence, slow burn ( for Wooyoung), polyamory, smut ahead ,oral, size kink, voyeurism, peeping Tom! Wooyoung, light bondage, eavesdropping, Mingi’s nickname for reader is baby, masturbation, Yeosang is very sweet here, some humor ahead, San is a cutie as always, hinted San smut, hinted San, Ming x reader, Wooyoung is even more confused now BUT HE"S GETTING CLOSE TO THE TRUTH

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

a/n : CHAPTER 4! To keep me going and support this series, make sure to leave comments about your thoughts and reactions! You can do this in my askbox too huhu! I hope you guys like this chapter and I know this was a very quick update after chapter 3! The next update may be after New Years!!! Thank you so much for reading my series!!!

This chapter is dedicated to ୨୧ @songmingisthighs ୨୧ (for helping me build ideas for inspo for the next chapters and fangirling with me. It really kept me inspired and excited to write more chapters. I included those gifs for u <3 )

It’s been almost three weeks since you’ve returned, 20 days to be exact, Wooyoung counted. 20 days and he’s still not over his crush on you. Was it even a crush anymore at this point?

“Hey focus.” Yeosang’s voice snapped him out of his many spirals over you.

The former Prince’s gloved fist came close to his face and Wooyoung quickly raised both his arms to block the jab.

“I’m focused.”

“No, you’re not.” Yeosang jabbed him on his side that his friend failed to evade which just led to one blow to another and before he knew it Wooyoung was on the floor again for the third time since their sparring session started.

“You’re probably thinking too much.” Your voice echoed in the gym as you approached them on the black padded boxing ring. “That’s why your movements are slow.”

You gave the two handsome men a quick look over. Their skin glistened with perspiration and they both had their boxing gloves on. Wooyoung sported a loose tank top which showed off his toned arms while Yeosang wore a compression shirt that only accentuated his statuesque physique. His muscles were getting bigger…and among the members Yeosang and San were the ones who built and grew muscle quickly due to genetics, and god, you loved those genetics.

“Good morning, darling.” Yeosang hummed with that princely smile of his and you couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in your cheeks at his term of endearment for you.

“Morning, Yeosang. Wooyoung.” You nodded in the other man’s direction whose chest was rising and falling fast as he caught his breath.

“Why don’t you give him a few pointers?” Yeosang wiped the sweat on his brow with his arm before heading towards where you were at the edge of the sparring ring.

You weren’t busy.

Wooyoung watched as you ducked beneath the foamed barriers, your eyes briefly meeting his as you passed Yeosang who leaned over to whisper something. You stared at Wooyoung as Yeosang’s deep smooth voice vibrated in your ears.

“Go easy on him, dear.”

You smirked a little at that before slipping off your trainers and sauntering towards Wooyoung with a false aura of ease to make sure his defenses were low.

“No gloves?” Wooyoung raised a brow as he stood up, not backing down on the challenge. He knew he should be more alert with you, especially with San said about your hand-to-hand combat mastery.

“Don’t need them.” You shrugged, stretching and swinging your arms and body to get your body a little warm.

Yeosang sat on the exercise bench in the gym that looked over the ring, curious to how this interaction would turn out.

“Don’t go easy on me.” You told him with a smile that he couldn’t read, it was alluring and sweet despite the fact you two were going to be throwing hands at each other.

“And don’t go easy on me.” He huffed, raising his gloved hands to shield his face and getting into stance whilst trying to ignore how pretty you looked in a simple tee and gym shorts with these cute strings on each side that scrunched them up in a pretty and sexy way. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

You only nodded and pulled the hem of your slim-fit tee down.

“Oh, you guys are sparring.” The sweet gentle voice of the vice-captain reached everyone’s ears and you glanced at the gym entrance to see the ethereally handsome man enter in a black tank top and matching sweats. “Morning, Y/N.” He smiled your way.

Wooyoung took this as a chance to attack but he really didn’t want to hit you in any way. His intention was to just jab lightly at your shoulder while you’re distracted.

With quick precision, as he learned from San, he swung your way, sure that he was gonna get a lick in. If you were supposed to be a master combatant, shouldn’t you know not to take your eyes off your opponent? He thought to himself as he focused.

In less than a second, you broke away from Seonghwa’s gaze and stopped Wooyoung’s advance by grabbing the gloved hand that came your way and twisted it to the side, redirecting it. Wooyoung couldn’t process what happened next as you held onto the hand you caught and your legs hooked around his neck, next thing he knew his world spun as he was propelled onto his back.

The loud smack of his back against the ring floor bounced off the walls so satisfyingly as he let out a grunt at the sudden impact. He couldn’t even move. Your legs had him in a headlock, his chin was nuzzled into the back of your slightly bent knee and your ankles were crossed over each other while your upper body and hands trapped his right arm in an arm lock.

You kept him there for a bit, letting him struggle against your hold before releasing him and all the oxygen he needed rushed into his lungs.

Wooyoung was in shock. It had happened so fast. Then it sunk in that your legs had locked his head in, your soft skin, and your pillowy thighs. Had he passed out in your chokehold, it would’ve been a good way to go.

“That’s our girl.” Seonghwa smiled proudly, he and Yeosang applauding your quick response to Wooyoung’s attempt at an attack.

You were up on your feet as if nothing just happened, and you glanced down at Wooyoung, rather enjoying the breathless look on his handsome face. He questioned how he was kind of turned on at how easily you countered him and how gorgeous you looked staring down at him. God, what was wrong with him?

You held your hand out.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed onto it letting you help him up.

“You need to train with Sannie more.” You chuckled once he was balanced on his two feet. “There were at least three ways you could’ve countered my attack.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Woo,” Seonghwa reassured him, heading towards the weights rack. “It took a while for Yeosang and I to be able to learn one of those counterattacks.”

You gave Wooyoung a reassuring caress on his arm, the gentle touch contrasting with how easily you threw him to the ground before you stepped out of the ring.

Wooyoung needed to improve a lot before he could spar with you.

“What will you be doing today?” Yeosang asked as he hung his towel over the chair, heading back to the ring.

“Will lift some weights. It’s a lower body day.”

“If you need help stretching out later, I’ll be glad to help.”

Wooyoung couldn’t really hear the conversation from where he was but Seonghwa could, and the Vice Captain scoffed at Yeosang’s response. To anyone else, it sounded like a normal gym conversation, and also, whatever the former Prince said always sounded innocent. But you and most of the members knew better.

“Unless she wants to do cardio with me,” Seonghwa suggested, setting up the weights on the barbell.

“Both of you calm down and focus on your workouts.” You shook your head, smiling to yourself at their antics.

“Focus? With you in those shorts?” Yeosang chuckled. “If San was here, he’d offer to spot you. Anyways, when you’re done, you know where to find me.” He headed back to Wooyoung who had begun frowning while he watched the three of you, not liking that he was left out of the conversation.

“Were you guys dissing me?” He asked when Yeosang stood in front of him again.

“Woo, just because you’re not included in the conversation it doesn’t mean that it's about you.”

Wooyoung gasped dramatically. “You mean to say you’re all not obsessed with me?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Keep your guard up, Woo. We need to train you to be good enough to counter some of Y/N’s attacks.”

“Only some?”

“The only two people in this crew who can go head to head with Y/N and actually make her break a sweat is San and Hongjoong.” Yeosang readjusted his gloves before raising his fists to shield his face. “Now that you’ve experienced her skill firsthand, focus.”

...

Wooyoung to put it bluntly was stressed. Frustrated too. He didn’t think he was that bad at hand-to-hand combat. He was humbled greatly by you and he was annoyed because today, it’s like he hasn’t improved at all. He kept getting caught off guard by Yeosang, surprised that he was this good at unarmed combat and even more deadly with his archery skills.

He needed San to give him more pointers and make their sessions more frequent if he was going to improve before they arrived at their next destination.

He let out a deep heavy sigh as he trudged back to the crew's deck to get his towel and fresh set of clothes in his room before he headed to the showers. Maybe he’ll give himself an ice bath. After his and Yeosang’s session, he stayed back to spend time venting out his anger on the punching bag, and now his muscles kind of ached.

Towel draped over one shoulder and his clothes tucked under his arm, he headed towards the showers.

You wrapped your towel tight around your body, swearing to yourself for forgetting your clothes back in your room and as carefully as you could walked barefoot on the shower room tiles.

“Ah!” You squeaked, feeling the ball of your foot slide against the tile and lose balance. Some kind of assassin you were. Even your clumsiness was a mystery to you.

But you didn’t feel the hard cold and wet floor of the showers, you felt nothing but warmth in a gentle hold.

Wooyoung stared at your face. Your eyes were tightly shut as you awaited the impact of your fall if he hadn’t caught you. He held you close and secure to him, his arms wrapped around your body clad only in a soft fluffy towel. He didn’t know if he was lucky or unlucky to be in this situation. You smelled so nice too. The sweet peach and coconut scent of your body wash filled his senses, and your skin was glistening from still being slightly damp from your shower. Maybe he was lucky.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, his eyes shifting from your face and the top edge of your towel wrapped around your chest.

“Woo?” You had said his name so softly with surprise that it made his heart skip a beat and butterflies flutter in his stomach. Your eyes blinked open to see the man who saved you from hurting yourself.

“Hi.” His voice was so gentle it took you aback.

“H-hi.” You stuttered out.

You both stared into each other's eyes for a while before you cleared your throat, feeling the cold air kiss your skin and make you shiver, making you all too aware of how only a towel separated the two of you.

“It’s cold. I forgot my clothes in my room.” You looked away.

It sunk in with Wooyoung that if the towel peeled off of you, he’d see everything. God, he’d see your pretty body before him and just knew it’d be better than he has ever imagined during his late nights plagued with your visage and the sounds you made when Mingi fucked you, and that first night he saw you on your knees between the gunner's thighs, head bobbing up and down his cock.

“Oh, sorry.” He gently helped you to your feet, making sure you were well-balanced before reluctantly letting you go. He had to control himself. You were Mingi’s. “Be careful, okay? Don’t want you to hurt that pretty self of yours.”

That made you smile. “Thanks, Woo.” You stood on your tippy toes and pressed your lips quickly on his cheek to show him how thankful you were before taking small steps to go to your room.

Wooyoung watched you leave. The touch of your lips on his cheek lingered. Were you that friendly with all of them? He has noticed some very odd…well not odd, unorthodox? Interactions between you and the other crew members. All eight of you seemed so closed knit and when those interactions happened, Mingi didn’t blink an eye or care.

Like how he had walked in on you once in Hongjoong’s office sat on the Captain’s lap by his desk while you two went over some maps and information or how you and Seonghwa would be in the lounge on some afternoons with your legs splayed across his lap while you both read your books in silence.

Does Mingi share you? He shook his head at the thought finding it absurd as the hot water sprayed down on him as he showered.

That was ridiculous. The two of you were attached to the hip almost all the time and some mornings you left his room and the others he left yours. It wasn’t making sense.

He just concluded that all of you have gotten really close and comfy over the time you all had been together as a crew. Being stuck on a ship most of the time and only ever having each other, it made sense that you all got close. Really close in a way it confused him. It still felt like there was something hidden from him even though it was staring him right in the face.

The sound of the shared shower room door sliding open and closing shook him from his thoughts, and from the shower stall he was in, he glanced at who entered, his eyes quickly catching the bright pink head that sauntered in.

“Oh, hey, Woo.” Mingi greeted, taking the shower stall next to him, the stainless steel dividers separating the two.

Wooyoung didn’t care much back then whenever someone entered the shower room but ever since you returned and he found out you have your toiletries in one of the three stalls, he has been careful. First of all, he didn’t want to invade your privacy and lastly, he didn’t want to shower in the stall next to you and get a raging hard-on at the thought of just a partition between the two of you.

Mingi’s bare shoulders and chest peaked over the top of the partition due to his height and his head was only mere inches away from the shower head. If you had been in the stall next to Wooyoung, he was sure only the top of your head could be seen.

“Hey, man.” Wooyoung greeted your lover back, continuing to shampoo his hair.

“Heard Y/N kicked your ass in less than a second.” He teased, turning the knob of the shower with a squeak.

“Ugh, who told you?” Wooyoung sulked a little.

“Seonghwa.” He snickered. “Wish I was there to see it. It’s sexy when she does that.”

“It’s like everything she does turns you on.” Wooyoung bit back, annoyed with the unprovoked teasing he was receiving.

“Can you blame me?”

Wooyoung couldn’t.

Glancing over at Mingi, he was met with a victorious smirk on the man’s face. He was smug that Wooyoung had no snappy remark at what he had said.

He glared at him before he rolled his eyes and began rinsing his hair a little roughly.

“Ugh, could you guys, at least keep it down? You guys fuck like bunnies, I swear to god. Don’t you know some people, also known as me, need to sleep?”

Mingi raised his brow as he grinned.

“So you could hear us, huh?”

Fuck.

The gunner faced his back to the spray of water and continued to tease his friend. “Do you get hard at the sound of us fucking, Woo? I mean if you do, I can't blame you. She moans so pretty doesn’t she?”

Internally, Wooyoung answered yes to all those questions but he just continued to rinse himself and think of a way to shut the tall man up.

“She tastes really good too.” He was bragging now and happily doing so. You were his baby. His one and only, of course, he wanted to show you off. Plus, knowing that Wooyoung doesn’t know the whole truth about you and the crew, he wanted to kind of enjoy the idea that you were entirely his (not that he didn’t like sharing you with the rest). “You’ve seen how pretty her pussy is, right? It was kinda entertaining, really, how you were so entranced by my baby before you knew that she was mine.”

Wooyoung was too frustrated and now extremely annoyed to reply back. He didn’t even know what to reply. His silence and lack of response probably exposed the truth of his desire for you.

“Tell me, Woo,” Mingi leaned his arms on the top of the partition and Wooyoung made the mistake of meeting the man’s eyes that were possessive yet teasing. “Do you want to fuck my girl?”

Wooyoung clenched his jaw.

The only thing that could be heard in the shower room right now was the collision of the rain of water against the bathroom tiles as they stared each other down.

Yes. He wanted to. He really fucking wanted to.

What the fuck does Mingi even want him to say?

“Don’t you think it’s a bit disrespectful to be offering your girlfriend up like that? Like she’s yours to give and take?” Wooyoung didn’t mean to attack Mingi with such words and it was clear what he said took him aback.

Was he going to get punched right now?

“What if it was an invitation?”

Wooyoung’s head snapped in Mingi’s direction, giving the man the reaction he wanted.

“W-what?”

Mingi let the silence between them sit for a while, knowing that the cogs in Wooyoung’s head were malfunctioning right now before laughing heartily.

“I’m just kidding. Wow. Didn’t think you’d take me so seriously. I know you have a crush on her, that’s okay, man. Everyone else does.”

Wooyoung remained silent, opting to just nod and continue washing up while Mingi’s last three words echoed over and over in his head.

Everyone else does.

It’s like what Yeosang said, “And if you’re a little attracted to her it’s fine. We all are.”

They showered in silence after, Wooyoung finished first, dried himself, and changed into a fresh set of clothes before heading out into the hall, the stupid hall where he could hear you across his room and run into you in the mornings or late nights when you’d get a midnight snack.

Sometimes he would think of that time you fed him that strawberry and how honey-like your voice was when you praised him. Then his imagination would go wild as he thought about what if he had kissed you then and there, and what if he touched you and felt every curve of your beautiful body as your tongues fought for dominance with one another.

He craved the same intimacy you shared with the other members. The same one where a single glance could tell them how you felt, where knowing smiles were exchanged across rooms or the dining table like you were passing secret notes to one another under the table, and the same intimacy you had with Mingi.

Wooyoung sighed as his crush on you only worsened by the day and he hoped that playing the video game Jongho and San asked him to join this afternoon could help him remain distracted from thoughts of you, specifically of how fragile you were in his arms earlier in the showers.

Approaching the lounge, he heard soft giggles and low voices, what could be assumed to be maybe a light-hearted conversation between two people. He recognized your voice anywhere and without announcing his presence, wanting to act aloof, he walked into the lounge.

The back of the couch faced him and he couldn’t see you and the person you were talking to as he approached.

“What are you doing?” you giggled, feeling gentle hands caress your sides, the other sliding under your top to feel the skin of your stomach with the intention to travel lower.

Wooyoung paused.

Your voice was gentle and void of any seriousness that your line of work in the past had trained you to become. Yeosang had told him yesterday when they were both hanging out on the upper deck that you could only ever feel safe around them. With them, your defenses were down and you could just be…well….you.

It was heartwarming and bittersweet. It's no wonder Mingi was so protective of you and San too...wait-

Was Mingi already with you? Wasn’t he still in the showers?

Wooyoung’s questions were answered by a broad back finally peeking over the back frame of the couch as the two of you playfully wrestled. He blinked for a bit wondering if his eyes were betraying him because he was pretty sure Mingi’s short hair was pink.

“You look so cute” The man sighed with adoration, the only part of you that could be seen as you lay on the couch was your gentle hand on the back of his neck.

“Sannie…”

Wooyoung could imagine the way you smiled when San’s name fell from your lips but the former assassin above you sensed another presence in the room. Cat-like eyes looked his way and for some reason, Wooyoung felt like he walked into something he shouldn’t have.

“Sannie?” You sat up wondering why he had gone silent.

You followed his gaze and saw Wooyoung by the entryway of the lounge.

The man stared at you both for a while, noticing how San’s hair stuck out in different directions and how his lips were slightly pinker than usual. Your lips were red and swollen like the times he’d see you after you and Mingi…

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” He tried to play his surprise off as if it was a joke but inside he was screaming 'What the fuck? What the fuck?', like a broken record.

“Oh, no.” San immediately responded, sitting on the couch properly from the position he had been in, which underneath the blanket was between your legs with his pelvis pressed to your core. “Not at all.”

“Will Y/N join us?” Wooyoung walked on over to the L-shaped couch, taking note that the two of you were under the same fluffy blanket.

“I won’t be playing. Just watching for a bit.” You smiled, letting your hand that had been playing with San’s hair drop while the other slipped from under his sweats. "I have to help Hongjoong and Seonghwa with some data later.”

San kept his practiced smile to not alert Wooyoung of what you two were doing under the blanket til he showed up. He was a bit annoyed to have been interrupted. Your dainty fingers had been wrapped around his hardening cock and were stroking him while his own fingers had been massaging your sensitive clit through your cotton panties. He even felt how your growing arousal had begun to seep through the fabric.

For now, San just readjusted your positions while still remaining under the cover of the large blanket, hiding his hard cock and practicing self-control.

Wooyoung half expected San to detach himself from you when Jongho arrived who didn’t blink an eye at yours and San’s public displays of affection, which looked more than platonic. Instead, San had you snuggled in his arms with his chin resting atop of your head as he fiddled with the buttons on the controller, trying to beat him and Jongho at a retro street racing game.

This was one of those instances that Wooyoung wondered if there was something more going on between you and San that Mingi wasn’t aware of. But then again, Mingi never batted an eye when Jongho called you princess, when Seonghwa moved the hair from your face with loving eyes, or when Yunho embraced you from behind when you were going over things with Hongjoong and Hwa on the command deck.

But apart from all these inconsistencies, well, odd behavior, Wooyoung couldn’t remove from his head how he had come in contact with you twice today. First at the gym and then at the showers with your skin glistening, the scent of peach coconut body wash, and the kiss you left on his cheek as a thanks for saving you from your fall.

God, he sounded like a teenager. He never really had a serious relationship back on Jupiter, he just messed around…a lot. Bless the maids that lost their jobs in the manor because he got caught fucking them…and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

But he’s never wanted anyone as badly as he wanted you.

That night, like almost every other night, when he wasn’t missing home or the security of his life before, he was consumed by thoughts of you. Now that he had a new image of you stuck in his head (you in that fluffy towel and nothing else), he had new… jacking-off material.

Maybe to top it off tonight, he’d leave his door just a peep so he could hear you and Mingi again. You two didn’t fuck at all this week, so he’s pretty sure something might happen tonight especially since Mingi cornered him in the shower and fucking showed off.

Should he take a little peek?

With the way the gunner teased him, it’s like he wanted him to watch the two of you.

As if he was psychic, Wooyoung heard soft whimpering coming from your room. Your sweet alluring sounds.

Quietly, bare feet on the cold floor he made his way to his door. The hallway was dark now since the main lights automatically switched off at 1:30 am to conserve energy on the ship, the only thing that illuminated the hall were these color-changing dim strips of light near along the topmost part of the walls.

Tip-toeing across, he wanted to scoff at how your door was open ajar. ‘Fuck you, man.’ He swore at Mingi in his head. He really wanted to make him suffer. If Mingi wanted him to watch so badly, then don’t mind if he does. Knowing the cocky smug bastard, he probably gets off on the idea of someone watching him fuck you but can’t touch you.

Gluing himself as close as possible to the wall next to your door, he decided to take a peek.

Immediately his cock throbbed at the new never before seen sight.

Ivory silk that shimmered in the dim light of your bedroom was tied to your headboard and they decorated your wrists that were above your head. He had wondered why your sounds were quieter this time around and he knew why now. Smooth silk was between your lips.

He felt his mouth water.

The little night slip covering yet showing the curves of your body was of the same silk and the thin straps had already slipped from your shoulders, the neckline dangerously low and close to letting your tits spill out. He could see the hardened peaks beneath the fabric and how the soft flesh jiggled when you’d wriggle away from the head buried between your thighs.

Your thighs were over thick broad shoulders and seeing the way you were writhing from the pleasure of the lucky tongue lapping up your essence that he imagined to be nectar from the gods, he knew you were close to coming undone. Which usually meant, Mingi was going to fuck you next. Wooyoung’s gotta give it to the gunner for being such a generous lover and indulging in foreplay.

“Mhmf!” Your pitch got higher, your wrists now tugging at the restraints. Your soft pillowy thighs were trembling and trying to close from the unrelenting attack on your heat. Wooyoung could hear the sloppy wet slurping of the man eating you out and his cock was getting harder and harder at the new visual. So you liked getting tied up? That’s hot.

He palmed himself through his cotton pajama pants, biting his lip hard to hold back any sounds he could make and glancing at the hall making sure no one was up before returning his gaze to your lingerie-clad body.

Your hips tried to wriggle away from your lover’s tongue but his hands were hooked around your thighs to keep you from getting away. You watched as his pretty face indulged in your cunt, happily and greedily lapping and dipping his tongue in your heat, and nipping and sucking on your clit. The soft gag around your mouth prevented you from moaning out his name and you could only whine and whimper your pleas and sounds of pleasure.

The soft silk grazed over your sensitive nipples the more you rustled and tugged on the restraints, your core growing unbearably tight and your breath quickening as he slurped and sucked at your sensitive bud. Then you saw white. Your back arched off the bed as his assault on your orgasming pussy didn’t stop. He liked to push you over the edge, not as cruel as Hongjoong does but just enough to make you hazy.

Not wanting to overdo it, your lover detached his lips from your cunt, and consumed with such desire, he hovered over you, covering you with his beefy muscular upper body, and lowered the silk gag to crash his lips onto yours. You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself on your tongue, and felt your walls tightening around nothing as he did. With one hand, he untied the silk ribbon from the headboard, letting it remain tied around your wrists yet freeing you from the restraint, finally letting you touch him.

“You’re so beautiful like this, my darling.” He spoke softly in between kisses. “I love dressing you in the prettiest things and fucking you in them.”

'Oh, god, his voice', you thought. That honey-like deep voice that made you believe sweet nothings belonged on his lips.

“This fabric is from the finest of silks in Jupiter.” He cupped your breast through the smooth thin lingerie. “When we made our stop in my home, I had to get something for my darling.” You bit your lip when he ghosted his thumb over your perked nipple. “This is silk made for a queen.”

He then sucked at your lower lip before resting his forehead against yours to savor this moment between the two of you.

“You didn’t have to...” You blushed beneath his intense gaze, his eyes so beautiful and entrancing. “I don’t need things like these—ah!”

You were cut off when his hot and hard length slotted between your lips, the man before you clicking his tongue at your words. “My beautiful love deserves beautiful things.” You let out a soft whine when you felt him rub his bulbous hot tip between your folds, covering himself in your slick. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. Nor desired anyone as I desire you."

“P-please,” you whimpered, squeezing his shoulders as the ache for friction was getting more intense. “I love you...please…I need you.”

You’d never ever get tired of any of your lovers telling you how much they loved you. You didn’t even know what you did to deserve not only one but seven men who loved you. After all the things you’ve done in your line work…you were somehow blessed with seven people you’d protect and die for. With them, you weren’t the girl you were in the academy. They made you feel as if your past was nothing but a nightmare.

“My sweet girl.” He cooed, his forehead pressed against yours as he tapped the head of cock on your clit. Your arms wrapped around his back, feeling the need to hold onto him because if you didn’t you felt like you wouldn’t be able to take the painful need throbbing inside you. “So tough and strong.” He kissed your neck, holding your hips still so he could rock his length back and forth your slit, the teasing close to making you cry. “But deep down, you want to be taken care of.”

“Please…” you begged, voice cracking with desire.

The sound made Wooyoung squeeze his cock tighter, slowly pumping himself to the sight of you through the mirror in your room where he could see the side view of your body. One of your breasts was no longer covered by the pretty silk lingerie and the ribbons tied on your wrist flowed so prettily, something about it made the whole view before him so sinful and dare he say, beautiful?

He watched as the hips between your legs connected with yours.

You moaned so obscenely when his hot tip pushed through your entrance and how his thick hot girth, stretched you out.

“Oh, Yeo.”

Wooyoung stopped the steady and slow rhythm of his hand. Did he hear that right? There was no fucking way.

“Fuck, you’re so thick.” You threw your head back, feeling him bottom out inside of you, his pretty moans music to your ears as he felt your velvety walls embrace him.

“Yeah? Look at how gorgeously split you are by my cock.”

You listened to him and glanced down, seeing the defined v-line of his hips and chiseled abdomen first before letting your gaze fall to where you two were connected. Your lower lips were parted and wrapped around him. He wasn’t as long as Mingi and Yunho but, god, he was thick and fitted inside of you like a glove.

“Come here, darling.” He wrapped his arms around you, changing your positions so he was lying down while you were sat atop of him, fully sunk onto his cock.

Wooyoung had been too distracted by you that he didn’t notice that the naked man that you were straddling and who was eating you out moments before was not the pink-haired gunner asshole who teased him earlier…it was his best friend.

“Be a good girl and ride me.” Yeosang caressed your sides before hooking a finger on the neckline of the silk slip and tugging it lower to reveal your breasts.

You slipped your arms from the straps, the lingerie he bought you now bunched at your hips while you placed your hands behind you and on his thighs as you slowly rolled your hips.

“Oh darling,” Yeosang moaned, watching you slowly raise your hips and lower them giving him a show of how his cock disappeared in and out of your tight heat, wetting him with your slick.

You bit your lip slowly adjusting to the width of him and once you felt your walls accommodate him more, you began to bounce your hips. You were lost in the way his cock rubbed your insides with each rock and bounce. His hands caressed your sides and squeezed your breasts, your moans and his messily harmonizing together along with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Wooyoung’s cock still throbbed and he knew it was wrong that he was even more turned on at the fact that you were fucking Yeosang. Did Mingi mean what he said when he jested earlier? About fucking you? Did he actually share you?

Maybe if he wasn’t so fucking horny he would’ve stopped touching himself at the sight of you fucking someone who wasn’t Mingi. Were you seeing Yeosang behind Mingi’s back?

He didn’t really care about those things right now, not when your tits bounced so fucking prettily as you rode Yeosang. Why did you look so fucking good? With his best friend lying down, he had a full view of your body, and the fact that the lingerie was still somewhat on you, made him continue to pump his length, matching his rhythm to yours.

Yeosang wasn’t much of a dirty talker when you two spent nights together but his pretty voice and the special timbre he had even his panting and moaning made up for it. He had such a tone to him that made you shiver and ache for him all the same. He had the prettiest moans among your lovers.

“Fu—oh. Fuck,” Yeosang managed to say when he caught a glimpse of a sheer ring of white coating the base of his cock, Wooyoung had to squint but when he saw it his hand sped up. He couldn’t believe he was jacking off to you fucking yourself on his best friend’s cock.

“Yeo…” you whimpered, throwing your head back at how good he felt inside of you and Wooyoung almost moaned out loud with how delectable you looked head thrown back in pleasure and rolling your hips.

He needed to fuck you. God, he didn’t know how long he could take anymore. Would Yeosang stop him if he were to walk in right now? No, he couldn’t do that but the sinful smack of your skin against Yeosang’s as you bounced on his cock was making any form of self control almost impossible to find.

“Look at you,” Yeosang hummed, swiping his thumb on the white cream of your arousal before rolling your clit beneath his fingertip. “Taking me so prettily.”

You could only moan in response, the stimulation on your clit as his cock deliciously scraped your insides making your head spin. Your hips and thighs worked tirelessly to continue the rolling waves of mind-numbing pleasure, and your lover beneath you looked up at you with such desire and adoration in his eyes, that it made you a little shy. Only they could make you feel this way.

You gasped when Yeosang gripped your hips tighter and began to fuck into you at a fast pace, the wet obscene smacking becoming louder as he thrust strong and deep. You almost fell forward at the sudden change of pace and you cried out at how indescribably good it felt.

“Fuck, Yeo. You feel so good.” He sat up, cradling your back and wrapping your legs around his waist as he continued to fuck you. The new position allowed his cock to dive deeper, hitting your g-spot and making you melt against him.

You held onto him for dear life, your head resting on his shoulder.

Wooyoung whimpered softly in disappointment that the sight of your tits and pussy were covered now by Yeosang’s bulging muscular back which had the silk ribbons around your wrists flowing down against them as you clawed at his skin.

Good thing he was close. He was so fucking close.

He glanced at the mirror once more, biting his lip harder when he saw the way Yeosang’s hips were driving into your pussy. Why couldn’t that be him?

He squeezed his cock harder and increased his pace, he was going to cum. Your breasts were bouncing with each thrust and he could see how your nipples brushed Yeosang’s chest. He imagined what that would feel like and how tight your pussy would feel around his cock, how it would squeeze him, how it would feel, hot wet, and inviting—

Wooyoung’s eyes flickered to your face wanting to cum at the sight of your blissed-out expression but his heart stopped when his eyes met your heavy-lidded ones with pupils blown in lust.

Your lips were loosely pressed against Yeosang’s shoulder as he pounded into you when you suddenly met a pair of eyes by the door, peering in. If it had been any of your lovers, they would have shamelessly walked in and watched. So...who?

Vision focusing and adjusting to the dark, you made out the strong jawline and the unmistakable shape of those eyes to be none other than Jung Wooyoung. Yeosang’s best friend.

Wooyoung saw how your brows furrowed at his presence and how your eyes glanced down, finding his hand that was wrapped around his cock, tip red and angry, leaking with precum.

“Fuck.” Yeosang swore when felt your walls squeeze him, not knowing it was because you had noticed Wooyoung by the door.

You never knew you’d be turned on by the idea of being watched til it was teased out of you by your lovers. It had started when San had caught you and Mingi when your relationship with him had reached the three-month milestone. Mingi being a switch had enjoyed teasing both you and San that night…seeing Wooyoung by the door, reminded you a little bit of how cute Sannie was all hard and frozen by the door that very night.

Smirking a little, a wicked idea popped into your head.

Running your hands through Yeosang’s hair, you kissed and moaned against his neck just a tad bit louder, all that while keeping your gaze locked with Wooyoung’s.

“You close, my love?” You purred into Yeosang’s ear, soft yet audible enough for the man by the door to hear.

Wooyoung clenched his teeth harder, fighting back his moans as his eyes were pleading for release while imagining his cock was in you instead of his hand. You weren’t making this easier for him.

Yeosang groaned at the way your term of endearment for him rolled off your tongue so seductively. “Mhm.” He hummed in response, panting as he chased both yours and his releases.

“You’re making me feel so good.” You held him tighter, his hands guiding your hips to match his movements. Your lustful drunk-like stare remained on Wooyoung and he couldn’t tear his own eyes from you. “I want you to fill me up.”

A moan almost escaped Wooyoung at that. Why were you looking at him when you said that? It was painful enough to fist his cock in secret while watching someone else fuck you but now this? This was some new kind of torture.

“Y-Yeo,” your eyes shut in bliss while your mouth parted in a breathless and soundless moan, while your lover spurred on by your words, moved with passion to bring you both to ecstasy.

Yeosang’s pants and whines always were like a melody you can never get out of your head. You wondered, despite your state of a daze, if he knew how weak you were for his comfort and his warmth. His gentleness and affection were different. They all loved you in their own ways, different but it was love all the same.

His moans became higher in pitch as he lost himself and his hold on your hips tightened. You couldn’t hold back all the sounds that left you as he brought you to climax, the rhythm of his hips getting faster, the resounding smacks bouncing off the walls. Your eyes locked with Wooyoung’s once more before they shut as you were pushed over the edge. Your body arched into Yeosang's as you gasped, unable to stop the trembling of your hips as your head went blank with pleasure.

You felt your release drip down your pulsing heat and made a mess on his cock that hasn’t ceased its assault on your spamming cunt. “That’s my darling. My sweet darling.” He cooed over and over til his own hips stilled. He slammed into you hard one last time as a strangled moan left him.

Wooyoung bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he felt the pressure at the base of his spine explode and release into his hand. The sight of his milky white release made your mouth water and you couldn’t help the thought that popped in your head. How it was such a waste for his cum to not be on you or in you. Maybe it was just your orgasm brain playing tricks on you and not making you think straight but you held onto your lover tighter, feeling his release warm your insides.

Yeosang laid you down gently on the bed, not detaching himself from you as he peppered kisses all over your chest as if worshipping you and thanking you.

You moved your head a little from the pillow to look at the door, only to find that the little peeping Tom had disappeared. Before you could feel the growing hint of disappointment that the new crew member was gone, you were pulled away from your thoughts by Yeosang. You gasped softly when he took your left breast in his warm mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue on your sensitive peak as he kept his pelvis pressed to yours to keep his release inside of you.

Wooyoung retreated to his room and locked the door, the post-nut clarity creeping up to him fast.

What had he just seen?

As if doing what he did to you and Mingi wasn’t bad already, this was…he didn’t even know what to think.

The guilt ate him up but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a dark cloud blooming in his chest. He didn’t know if he was reading too much into it but did you enjoy having him watch? He swore when your eyes locked with his as Yeosang fucked you and he was jerking off, there was a brief glimpse of a smirk.

As he cleaned up the mess of his cum on his hand and changed out of his shirt, he poked his head out his door so he could check he didn’t have traces of him on the floor or anywhere near your door.

What the fuck has he done? Why were you and Yeosang together?

He glanced at your still slightly open door wondering if you and his best friend were still going at it. If he had gotten caught by both of you, would he have been invited to join? He lightly knocked the back of his head with his fist for having thought about that. He was being delusional.

With tissues, he wiped away drops of his cum that had fallen to the floor quietly while telling himself he won’t try to listen to any more sounds that should be found because of your partially open door.

Before he could hear anything, he disappeared into his room and made sure his door was closed and locked.

He went over his conclusions about your relationship with the crew.

You and Mingi had been together for two years while you and San had basically grown up together and shared a friendship that looked far from platonic as he always looked like a love-sick puppy when you were around. Now Yeosang? Where the fuck did Yeosang fit in the equation?

It didn’t make sense to him and the last thought that crossed his mind was far too absurd…but then again, not entirely impossible.

It was just too crazy to be real. Which brought him back to his and Mingi’s conversation in the showers.

“What if it was an invitation?” Mingi’s words echoed in his head.

Even though he played it off as a joke, Wooyoung couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t entirely just a joke.

- feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly famgor; with you <3

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