right where you left me: jaehyun, 19k
summary: just when you think you can leave your past behind, a living breathing reminder of him moves to your small town.
the perfect note: alpha johnny, 26.8k
summary: at least living her whole presented life as an outcast led her here, to Fallbrooke Valley School for the Arts, one of the most prestigious schools in the world. After years of getting by in the shadows with her best friend Jungwoo by her side, one assignment (and one alpha) changes it all.
in a dream: jeno, 2.8k
summary: johnny comes home and marks his territory before having to leave, again. little does he know, that’s jeno’s favorite.
Jisung wasn’t always so confident when it came to fucking. He’d blush when you’d drop to your knees, mere anticipation enough to have all the blood rush to his dick. There’d be a gloss coating his eyes coupled with a whine every time you’d trace the outline of his cock through his jeans.
It was a pretty picture, the complete opposite to how he acts now, something you couldn't have predicted a couple months into this relationship. He’s found his footing, the confidence that comes with familiarity.
note: just smut, MDNI.
Slender fingers thread through your hair as he brings it up to a makeshift ponytail. The saliva bubbling along the sides of your mouth proves he’s been at this for a while. You’d complain but the image of him chasing high is gratifying; sweaty bangs that stick to the sweat that’s built on his forehead, a faint pout to his puffy lips. To hold someone’s pleasure in the palm of your hands (or in this case, mouth) is intoxicating in its own right.
“Wider, please, I’m so close.”
A click of your jaw swiftly follows, a firmer grasp on your hair, the deepest breath you can manage with his constant assault. The perfect recipe to have him flooding your mouth warm.
You’d think his cock would fall flat after pulling out, if anything it springs to life with a wet pop!
What you don’t manage to swallow dribbles down the side of your mouth.
Jisung reaches out, “C’mere,” The word lacks the bite of a command, more so a plea, one you lack the ability to deny. You feel his sincerity as his tongue darts out to lap up the cum that adorns your chin.
Warm thighs settle on his own and he groans against your lips, a low thrum that pushes you to grind over his length. Your hips can’t help it, stuttering every time he manages to nudge your clit with the tip of his cock.
Shame is what a decent person would feel, embarrassed by the wet smack that rings as he tastes himself on your tongue, the lazy squelches that echo with each tilt of your hips. In this case the sounds only seem to spur you on, “Feel how wet you make me.”
A couple months back Jisung would’ve bitten his tongue, screwed his eyes shut as a deep shade of pink dusted over the tips of his ears. Today he’s a little different, dawning hooded lids and a slight pull to his lips as he watches you fuck yourself on his length, “All for me, right?”
He even has the audacity to chuckle when you answer by pressing yourself harder onto his cock, “That’s it,” He coos, “you’re so close.”
Through the daze you feel his fingertips slithering up your spine, smoothing over your nape to tangle themselves into your fucked up hair. He yanks experimentally, then again because he likes the way it makes your pussy clamp down on his cock.
One last pull presses his lips against your ear, where you can feel the smile on his face as he rasps against the crook of your neck, “If you’re good, I might even let you come.”
I can’t believe my sister wrote this and I’m laying next to her as I read it
Meanwhile I’m crying throwing up over the perfect note epilogue (bc what do you mean John and that girl don’t remember each other?!) and that king sunghoon fic.. it’s evil out here
summary: two lovers, clandestine meetings, and wordless promises
featuring: jeno & mark (once again)
warnings: yearning, longing, desiring, pining, y’know all the good stuff
wc: 738
note: sorry i haven’t posted in so long. please accept this drabble as my apology <3
It’s a rare occasion to have everyone together like this. Someone’s always on vacation, busy with work, or dealing with all the other responsibilities that come with being an adult. It’s only natural to want to forget about that for an evening, big part of the reason I’m okay with the remnants of dinner currently being sprayed across my hallway. I know that Jungwoo will feel worse about it tomorrow than I will.
Haechan tried to get him on his own two feet, but he lacks the strength it takes to handle someone of Jungwoo’s stature. I watch them wobble through my home before Haechan resigns, waiting for Johnny to finish watering a dizzy Taeyong.
Everyone’s helping one another so no one bats an eye when Jeno bumps into me, “I don’t think–”, His hand clumsily comforts the spot he accidentally nudged me in, gentle searing circles on the side of my arm, “Sorry.”
“I don’t think I can make it upstairs.”
Against all my instincts, I wordlessly open up and wait for him to slot into me for support. His arms brace my hips while the other takes hold of the railing. I can feel my shirt begin to bunch with each step up, feel Jeno’s pinky graze against the sliver of skin that his grip managed to showcase.
Neither of us acknowledge it, but it burns on my end. Jeno fans the fire by burrowing himself deeper into my body, blowing his ragged breaths into the crook of my neck as we climb the stairs at a glacial pace.
After reaching the top he continues to lean on me as I manage to get him to one of our guestrooms. Laughter and whines die off when I shut haphazardly with my foot. Together we work to get him to the bed, plopping ourselves on the edge without a word.
I don’t lose my grip, and neither does he. We sit side by side with his head on my shoulder. I let us be for a couple of minutes before cutting the silence, “Do you need anything?”
“I’m not drunk.”
I know this. I watched him nurse the same glass all evening, beheld his slender fingers and how they endlessly looped around the rim. I’d tell you how many laps they managed to complete but I’d rather plead the fifth. Absolves me of my sins.
When I command myself to finally let go, the fibers of his shirt knot around the diamond that adorns my ring finger, just another reminder why I haven’t let myself be guided by my impulses. We belong to other people.
Tugging my hand away doesn’t make Jeno budge. I pull my arm back to my side and he returns his head to the way it was. He watches me bring my hand closer to my face, we both see the threads of his shirt and how they’ve embedded themselves into my ring. Something inside begs to leave them be.
I can’t help but hear the voice out.
Making light of a situation is my forte. I bring the back of my hand to his forehead, then his cheek, and fight to dismiss the way he leans into my touch, “You sure you didn’t have a couple bottles to yourself?”
To prove his innocence he clears his throat, mindlessly caressing the skin of my hip as he speaks, “My name is Jeno Lee. We first met at a Halloween party. You were a Firefighter. I was a King.” The patterns he’s branding me with stutter before coming to a full stop, “You’re… Mark’s wife.”
We go back to silence after the last fact.
Seconds bleed into minutes but this time Jeno’s the first to crack, “I try to forget that last one every day.”
Our secret can never leave this room, so in these four walls we’ll sit till inevitably falling asleep. In the morning we’ll wake up before everyone else, primp each other's clothes–let our hands drift over each other’s body as we exchange glances only lovers should share.
It’s my favorite of our goodbye rituals, the last before we square away any evidence of last night and return one another to our respective partners.
When Mark and I bid our friends goodbye Jeno will give me a hug, nothing that can be read as anything but that, and we’ll patiently wait for the next time it can happen all over again.
end note: one day i’ll write jeno in a happy relationship. that day was not today!
SUMMARY the person you love the most hurts you in unimaginable ways. just how long do you think you can keep this up?
PAIRING haechan/reader
CONTENT angst, toxic relationship, SMUT, (oral - f receiving, mating press, raw sex)
NOTE did this come out more emotional that i had originally planned? yes, but i really liked it so i hope you do, too.
WC 2.7k
It should be simple to drop the person who makes you feel like shit right? Unfortunately, when push comes to shove, these things are much easier said than done.
I don’t doubt there was a time where Haechan did love me. Everyone who knows him begs to differ but they don’t see the way he treats me, hear the words he whispers into my skin when he holds me close after not seeing me for months at a time.
To be completely honest I can’t blame them for not liking him, he’s really easy to hate. So lively and confident to the world but the complete opposite once we’d close the doors to our shared apartment.
The ball of sunshine I’d come to love would dim out and he’d droop, hesitantly draw back the curtain and show me the parts of himself he hides from the rest of the world. It’s an act of intimacy that requires so much trust, an undeniable amount of vulnerability that could make someone feel so special.
At least, that’s how it made me feel.
He’d lose his protective veil of silly around me, tell tales of his childhood and the broken home he was determined to flourish in. Most of his memories were sad, but every now and then he’d sprinkle in a good one, almost always of the time he spent with his grandparents.
I love hearing about kid Haechan. Kid me would’ve loved him. We could’ve spent our time in his grandmother’s yard making mud pies, laughing, running away hand in hand when she’d find us plucking from the plants she went above and beyond to tend to.
Most of the time I hate the world for letting that possibility slip through our fingers but every now and then the resentment isn’t entirely there, it’ll fizzle away and only leave me with enough energy to lay in bed and wonder how we both would’ve turned out if we met sooner.
Could I have helped him? I know our families were a mess but at least we could’ve had each other. Would that have been enough?
When you combine both of our baggage our nights would drag on, we’d fall asleep to the sound of our own voices as we dissected our lives. Naturally, the conversation would lull and we’d be left to silently theorize our reunion that never was.
Looking at it now, I might have some regrets regarding my decision to share all that with him. I unintentionally gave Haechan insight, handed him a roadmap of my inner workings and taught him exactly what to say or do to keep me on his leash.
He’s developed a sixth sense for knowing when I’m pulling away. He’ll start to find gaps in his tight schedule, drop in unannounced to cook me dinner and actually spend the night instead of having me wake up alone.
Haechan claims to miss me and while I do think some part of that is true, I think it’s my attention he actually covets. He wants to make sure I don’t forget about him, deprive me of that window of time that will allow me to move on.
When things get like this we barter, he gives me a memory and I keep that crevice in my heart that’s dedicated to him.
What’s sad is that it actually works.
I’m sitting on the countertop in my kitchen watching him chop vegetables, dicing them up to toss into the pan he’s got on the stove before he slithers his way between my legs, caging me between his arms while I patiently wait for him to speak.
We’re silent, face to face when he cocks his head to the side. There’s no glint of playfulness that shines in his eyes when he looks at me and speaks so quietly that I would’ve missed it if I wasn't right in front of him, “I don’t deserve you.”
I fight the bitter lump forming in my throat, hold back the tears that are beginning to well up as I look down and mimic his hushed tone, “I know.”
Haechan laughs but it’s not cocky or smug, moreso an admission of guilt—his version of saying I’m sorry without needing to utter the words. I feel his thumbs smooth over my hands before he brings one of them to his mouth, kissing it gently as he studies my face, “Thank you for loving me anyways.”
He’s not big on this vague mix of sincerity and honesty, only bringing it out when he’s truly desperate. While I do feel his genuineness, some part of my body knows to reject it, building up that frail wall of self defense as I look at the pan he’s kept on the fire for way too long, “Your veggies are smoking.”
“Shit.”
—
We ate our remade dinner in silence, cleared the table and tidied up the kitchen before heading to my bedroom.
I beeline to the shower and leave the door unlocked but he doesn’t join me like he usually does. The action was probably mindless but it's enough to plant seeds of insecurity in my psyche, they take root in the deepest parts of me as I take my time, bloom in the steam swarmed the room as I scrub my skin to leave it silky smooth.
Sooner or later I move to dry myself and slather on the lotion he likes because it gets him to burrow his nose into my skin and breathe me in.
When I finally step out in my robe he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting patiently even as I sit on my vanity to follow up with my skincare. All he does is watch, not in the way predators eye their next meal but this gaze is mild, a murky cross between admiration and sympathy as I pat on the vials of expensive products he always gifts without me having to ask.
He gets up and walks to the bathroom, coming out with a towel and a small bottle in arms. Haechan doesn’t say anything as he stands behind me, I just feel him begin to pat my hair dry, picking up the dripping strands that cling to my neck to dab away the droplets that settled on my skin before he shifts to untangle the hair with his fingers.
Goosebumps ripple over my arms when he accidentally pulls with a little force because it's enough for me to recall the times he does so without mercy. I’m too weak for this and a part of me thinks he knows. My eyes roll shut, half in pleasure and half in shame for what I’m about to ask next, “Why didn’t you join me?”
Haechan doesn’t stop running his hands through my hair, focusing on the strands as he begins to work some serum through them, “It felt like you needed some space.”
“I need you, Haechan.” I sigh out, too exhausted to hold back the tremble in my voice.
Pathetic, I know, but it's true and he eats it up. The voice that had once sounded so wounded drops to a velvety murmur as he speaks into the slope of my neck, “In what way?” His eyes connect with mine in the mirror as he peppers kisses there, they quickly morph into sucks the longer I stay quiet, “Tell me, hm? I’m right here.”
I reach for his hands and place one of them firmly over my tit and the other against my bare cunt. His fingers find my clit with no trouble and through the reflection I watch his eyes flutter shut when he dips lower and feels how wet I am.
In the seat of my vanity I roll against the small circles he sets, let my head rest against his shoulder as I look up at him, “You know what way.”
He moans, grumbling against my ear as his voice gains a stress, “Fuck, I love it when you get like this.”
Does he think I don’t know that?
Haechan tugs on my nipple over the thin cloth of my robe and I shamelessly arch into his touch for more, “So do something about it.”
Not seeing him for months at a time makes me a little more demanding. I’m normally not like this but like Haechan, I also know how to get what I want. Riling him up gets him rough, gives him the strength to close all the gaps between us when he fucks me.
“Is that really what you want?”
I nod against his chest and prepare for what comes next. A light shove, his hands impatiently digging into my skin to make up for lost time but none of it ever comes, only a soft hum as his eyes direct me to my bed.
This restraint is new.
Haechan waits for me to settle on the foot of my bed, watching intently as he comes to stand between my legs. I feel him cup my cheek, swiping his thumb along the skin before he tilts my head up. He’s done nothing and I’m already breathless.
The attention I’ve been longing for has me feeling shy for some reason and he picks up on it, quells my anxiousness with a peck to the crown of my head that calms me more than I’m willing to admit.
I pull the string of my robe in hopes that he’ll pay attention to my body rather than my vulnerability. It has the opposite of my desired effect. His gaze only manages to strip me down further.
Delicate fingers skim over the tips of my shoulders, smoothly sliding off what’s left of my robe. I wish it was cold here, at least then I’d be able to say that was the source of my shiver and not the modicum of contact. I’m attempting to calm the pound in my chest when I feel his lips warm the shell of my ear, “I’ve been gone for too long, haven’t I?”
My head begins to nod on its own because I’m helpless against the tickle of his breath, “Way too long.”
That must’ve been the exact answer he was looking for. I don’t make any protests when he pulls away from me because I watch him sink to his knees, feel his hands play with the skin of my thighs as he pries my legs open, “Let me make it up to you?”
Between sparking an argument that would lead us nowhere and letting him have his way with me, the latter is always more enticing. A remorseful boy kneeling at the apex of your thighs who’s willing to do anything to make amends? You’d say yes to him too, don’t lie.
From the tips of my knees he kisses his way to my clit and takes a second to coo at the throbbing nub before letting his tongue lave over it, pink muscle so deliciously warm that it pushes my hips up to chase more of the feel. I only get so far before I feel his hand push me back into the mattress, “You miss me too?”
I’m mindless under him, a mess of desperate nods as wet kisses begin to brand my cunt, sloppy splotches of saliva that serve as my reward for being so subservient. It’d feel patronizing if it didn’t feel so fucking good.
I forget each of his wrongdoings with every lash to my clit, wipe the slate clean with every meager hint of pressure he grants me. He’s thorough like he always is, leaves no part of me untouched as he begins to spread me apart with two fingers to assess his damage.
There’s no resistance on my end when he slides a finger in to work me open, if anything I spread wider on my own, force my hips down into him till his knuckles stop me from going further and even then I make the balls of the joints enough. I have to take pleasure where I can get it.
Haechan takes note of my desperation. At least that’s what I tell myself as I watch him stumble onto his feet, feel the weight of his clothed body on mine as he presses himself against me. Now that he’s this close I don’t plan on letting him leave. My fingers drift into his wavy locks and I give them the softest of tugs so he can look me in my eyes, see the sincerity in my face as I beg him to fuck me.
No back talk, no smart ass remark, not even a jab at the tone in my voice. Haechan does the unimaginable and just lets me win, pushes his pants down just enough for his hard cock to slap against my pussy. My mouth falls open at the sensation and he takes that as his opening to shove his tongue into my mouth.
Usually I’m the one making up for lost time but today Haechan takes the reins, fixes my legs over his waist before burrowing in one fell swoop. I can’t fight the way my teeth sink into his lower lip but judging from the way his cock stirs inside me I don’t think he minds the sting.
Hands maneuver my legs over his shoulders and he barrels deeper, nudging the tip of his cock against me in a way that reminds me why I’m always so forgiving. He knows me from the inside out, in ways that I don’t think any other man will ever be able to replicate—or even come close to for that matter.
I feel his nose dig into my cheek and the breath I’ve been praying for takes place. His touch earns that fervor I always expect as he holds me close, never stopping the perfectly angled thrusts that punch the air out of my lungs, “God, I missed you so much.”
He’s doing it again, buttering me up with syrupy sweet words that ensure I never learn my lesson. My heartbeat doubles as Haechan settles more of his weight onto me. I should be complaining about the way he’s shoving my knees into my chest, yet my arms sling around his neck, pull him impossibly close as his rhythm begins to falter into something more unrestrained—brutal, if he wasn’t fucking me in the way I love so much.
We’re recycling each other’s breaths, hazily swimming in this fog of pleasure as I look into his eyes. I make sure they’re as glazed over as mine before I whine into his lips, “Need you baby, all of you.”
My truth is easier said when we're both delirious. It’s the perfect cop out. If by any chance he brings it up afterwards I can blame it on the heat of the moment and continue to lie to myself a little longer, convince my conscious that these hours I spend under him are enough, that I don’t need more from him.
The sound Haechan makes in response is almost as helpless as mine but his persist, airy little whimpers that mix in with the lewd smack of our bodies meeting as he groans into my skin, “Out or in?”
I dig the foot of my heels into the small of his back and I hope that my dazed gaze is enough of an answer. He only gets a few more sloppy plunges before he buries himself into the hilt. I feel his entire body tenses as he anchors onto me, holding me in place to give me a few more half hearted rolls as he floods my insides white.
He pecks my sweat coated skin in thanks, takes two fingers to swirl his cum over my clit before bringing them up to his lips, “Hmmmm. Sweet like always.”
I push him off me but he doesn’t let the separation last because soon enough he's nuzzling into my side. We lay like this for a while, enjoy the silence that’s usually never there after we fuck.
After a couple minutes of him drawing into my skin he whispers into the room, “I’m gonna get better.” When I look at him all he does is press his lips against the tip of my shoulder, “For you.” He travels higher up to the shell of my ear where he knows I’m sensitive, “For us.”
The quiver in his voice is convincing, and, you see, I’d believe him—if it wasn’t the sixth time he’s said it to me this year.
pairing: jeno x reader, johnny x reader (legally)
genre: smut, idol au, y/n is a cheater cheater pumpkin eater
featuring: loving husband johnny suh
word count: 2.8K
summary: johnny comes home and marks his territory before having to leave, again. little does he know, that’s jeno’s favorite.
smut warnings under the cut
smut warnings: rough sex in the past tense, cheating. jeno and john have a huge dick (wbk).
–
“I’m sorry it’s always like this,” Johnny apologizes into the phone, the rest of the group making noise in the background as they prepare for practice to begin. Another comeback, another period where I’ll rarely see him. Early on I realized finishing a tour wasn’t the happy reunion I imagined it to be, because it always means it’s time to prepare for the next one, to keep the fans happy. To keep them hooked.
“It’s okay, it gives me time to rest. To recover,” I whisper back, even though I’m alone in our apartment and nobody can hear me.
“I’m sorry about that, too,” he continues, but I can hear the smirk forming on his face letting me know he is in fact not sorry.
Okay let's begin, I hear in the background. Our time is up.
“I gotta go, I love you. I’ll see you when I can,” he assures me, as if we haven’t been down this road several times. He waits for my reply before hanging up, waits for me to tell him I love him, too.
And I do, because I do. I always will.
–
“Look at you,” the voice along with the cool air from being uncovered tugs me out of my sleep. A lazy smile spreads on my face before my eyes open, anticipating what comes next. What always comes next.
“Hi puppy,” I greet. My head’s groggy and my vision’s blurry but the smell of his cologne gets me every time. I chose it for him, after all. Jeno wastes no time, scooping me up and into his arms. He’s known the code to my door longer than I care to admit, and he knows exactly when to use it.
I should feel bad every time I hear the door beep, or his voice wakes me, but the guilt never comes, even after I do. And I do, every time.
You can have your cake and eat it too, it turns out.
Jeno lays me back down onto the bedding and pulls his shirt off in one go, his chest shining in the moonlight filtering in from the window. No matter the season, promoting or not, Jeno’s body is always in the best shape he can have it in.
His weight makes the mattress dip where he kneels into it, licking and lapping his way up my stomach and across my nipples. My puppy: always full of energy, gentle, and eager to please, whenever I let him.
Only tonight, he gets to play rough.
–
The grimace on my face from his touch doesn’t do anything to stop him. Jeno relishes when Johnny leaves me like this. Normally, his touches are wraithlike, careful not to leave traces of himself.
It’s intoxicating to be treated like glass, to know that he has to find ways to bring us both to completion without any evidence left behind. His kisses are like whispers, tickling me when he presses down. My skin gets goosebumps from the heat of his breath.
Even when he buries himself into me those other times it’s full of care, never letting himself slam all the way in at once, never letting my insides bruise. Tender fluid motions paired with his head barely resting on top of mine bring us both as much ecstasy as we’re allowed.
When Johnny is away we still have to be careful, since someone is always watching. Being out of the public eye doesn’t mean I’m afforded privacy. Johnny does his best to stay connected, video calling me whenever he has a moment and I always answer, always willing and ready to offer him support, encouragement, and reassurance that my love for him will never waver.
I only see Jeno when I know Johnny can’t talk, when everyone is busy, when the time is right. We hardly ever meet when Johnny is in Seoul, only on nights like tonight, right after Johnny comes home from an extended trip abroad, when he leaves me like this.
My body is littered with bruises, from Johnny’s mouth and his hands. Inside, his cock left me sore and my cervix bruised from the lack of control, lack of restraint after so much time apart. He gave me everything he could come up with, to make certain I knew that that he missed me, and to remind us both that I’m his to do whatever he wants with.
I can take it, I always take it, but it’s the aftermath that makes times like this Jeno’s favorite.
The company always wants them in the practice room the night after they return, and if there’s a comeback, it’s worse. I won’t see Johnny for days. After he ruins me he cleans me up, apologizing for what he’s done over and over, he leaves.
Before he does Johnny kisses me on the forehead and tells me to remember to eat well while he’s gone, to rest. And rest I do, because I know what’s coming next.
Jeno sucking over a bruise Johnny left on my neck brings me back to the moment, before he licks a tear up and plants a soft kiss right underneath my eye. That’s what drives me crazy about this, the way he reinforces every single mark left by my husband but is careful never to leave his own. His affections always stay inside the lines drawn out for him.
This happens so seldomly, with Johnny leaving less and Jeno leaving more, so we both have started to treat each time like it’s our last. Jeno knows I’ll never leave Johnny, and one day, sooner than we both want, Johnny won't ever leave again and our time together will only be a memory. Something to look back on instead of something to look forward to.
Jeno lines himself up with my entrance and slides his tip along my slit, making sure I’m ready and willing. Just like each time before he looks into my eyes and asks without words if he can have me, and every time I nod once, bracing myself for every inch.
Johnny has a large cock, too. But something about the way Jeno worships me from the inside out is addictive, endearing.
Unlike the shallow thrusts and patience for me to adjust to his size, this time Jeno pushes past any resistance my body gives and bottoms out on the first stroke. He knows I can take it, and tonight he doesn’t have to hold back, so he doesn’t. His cock drags along my still tender walls and pushes into the bruise Johnny oh so caringly left me takes the breath out of my lungs, and another tear topples out of the corner of my eye.
He doesn’t falter, setting an excruciating pace from the get go, placing his hands where my husband did just last night, holding me in place, making sure I don’t run from a single sensation.
A sob escapes me, from feeling so full, from my memory fragmenting between Johnny last night and Jeno right now. It makes me clench around Jeno and he groans, dropping his head into my neck to revisit some bruises.
“You’re perfect, every time. So good,” he stutters between thrusts.
He picks himself back up now that the rhythm is fluid because despite thinking I spent everything my body had to offer last night, I always get wetter for Jeno. It turns into a game of twister, Jeno stretching my limbs to their limits while taking hold of different markers Johnny has left for him to hang onto. Right now one hand is pulling on my hips to meet him at every thrust while the other is gripping on my shoulder pushing my face down into the mattress to muffle my sobs.
The pain is so good.
He uses that same stronghold on my shoulder to pull me up, flush against him, and that’s when things change, like they always do. He never roughs me up for long, my puppy is always in there somewhere, ready to serve.
He wraps his arms around me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held, careful not to etch into my skin further.
“You can take it, right?” I hear the anguish in his voice even though he’s getting to treat me like the slut I most definitely am for the first time this year. Johnny got hurt last summer so he’s been home, a lot. It’s actions like these that make my heart lurch and my pussy clench around him. Even now he’s checking on me, making sure I’m okay, that this is all still okay.
I nod and grind into him, telling him without opening my mouth that it’s okay to keep going.
The air in the room is thick, our breaths mingling with one another, as I find myself underneath Jeno, his sweat dripping on me, searing me where it falls. He’s close, I can tell by the way his hold is getting rougher and that he hasn’t checked in with me in a while. I tap him on the wrist and the intense heavy stare he was giving me melts into something I’ve grown to cherish in my own way.
He picks the hand I touched him with up and slows his pace to a crawl before kissing the inside of my palm and smiling at me so wide his eyes close.
“Your turn?” he asks, already pulling himself all the way out of me because he knows the signal.
No matter how spent I feel from however many times he’s made me come, I always have more energy for this. I line him up once again and sink down onto him, our hips meeting, causing both of us to groan.
“Fuck, ‘mnot gonna last,” he grits out, grabbing hold of my bruised up hips to help move me. I grind and I bounce and I lean forward for a tighter fit-if that’s even possible. I sit back up to delay the inevitable and admire my handiwork. While Jeno has to stay within the lines, his paper white skin is mine to color and marr in any way I want.
I scratch and I bite and I bruise him to my heart's content, leaving him with evidence that what I feel for him is real, even if it’s just lust. Even if it’s temporary.
His perfect face is etched with pain of its own, from holding back his release as long as he can. I drop on top of him and he catches me before my face crashes onto his and repositions us so I’m on my back. He starts fucking himself into me at a pace that is too slow for what I want but is doing exactly what he intends, because his cock is dragging along the patch of nerves that drives me to bite into his shoulder one more time to try and suppress the noises that leave my body as I come one last time.
Jeno follows soon after, pushing his load as deep into me as he can manage, hoping that at least in this small way he can stay with me even after he leaves.
–
I startle myself awake, afraid too much time has passed and Jeno is gone, or worse, that Johnny is back.
Jeno’s fingers sifting through my hair tell me neither of those things are true, thankfully.
“Are you okay?” He asks, bringing me closer into his hold now that I’m awake.
“Yes,” I croak out. And the truth is, I am.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I wanted to let you rest before I took you in, can you walk?”
I smile into Jeno’s chest, the hard part is over, and only the Jeno I’ve come to know is here to stay for what’s left of our time together.
“No,” I say, clearing my throat in case he asks any more questions. I probably can walk, but he only carries me at times like this, when he knows better than anyone how spent I am.
He carries me into the bathroom where I play marionette and let him take care of me. For months before he ever laid a hand on me, all he did was watch me when nobody else was looking, not even me. Because of Mark and Haechan being on the same team as him, and he and Doyoung’s affinity for one another, I would see Jeno often when Johnny was still at the dorm and I would pose as a staff member to get in and out undetected.
It wasn’t like Johnny neglected me, or that Jeno had something Johnny didn’t. I can’t even fully say how it happened, but one day the boys were making fun of my phone and the next day they had pitched in to buy me the latest model so I could finally be able to go places without a portable charger in my bag.
The day after that, a sim card appeared in a tiny envelope inside my purse with a note written in hangul that translated to I liked your phone before. I put the sim in my old phone once I got home, and the connection between us formed.
Jeno liked my loyalty, to people, to things. He loved that I followed Johnny here from America when we were so young, and that I’ve stood by him all this time without complaining in good times and bad. He loves that I wont leave him even now, even knowing that Jeno would be there with open arms and no regrets if I woke up one day and decided to blow my life up and run to him.
But I’m not his, I belong to Johnny.
“You have new shampoo,” he comments, his voice bouncing off the walls of the master bath.
“It was a gift. I hate it,” I murmur, leaning my head back so he can wash my hair like he’s done so many times before, like I hope he gets to do again.
“Good. I like how you smell,” he responds.
The first time our meetings became physical he asked me if he could watch me clean myself up, watch me prepare for bed. I called him a sicko but let him sit in the corner and watch. I expected him to stroke himself as I lathered my body, but the only thing that lit me up from the inside out was the intensity of his gaze. The weight of his attention now that he was in the same room as me, now that he had been inside me, was exhilarating.
Time and time again he would study me, until one day he asked if he could try, and every meeting since he’s prepared me for bed himself, following every step I had laid out for him with the precision of a catholic mass.
He turns the water off and pats me dry before applying lotion on every inch of my body, paying special attention to the marks all over, red and angry from having been imprinted on again. Soft kisses pepper me everywhere, his warm breath making me wet all over again.
Sometimes, I spread my legs the slightest bit and he eats me out right here, while I watch him in the mirror and hold myself up on my bathroom counter. Sometimes he’s bolder and slips inside of me and brushes my hair while I cockwarm him on the chair of my vanity. Tonight he knows I’ve had enough, that I’m hanging onto consciousness by a thread and it’s about to snap, so he just towel dries my hair and brushes it out as quickly as his care allows.
“What time is it?” I ask, knowing he’s almost at the end of his routine, that he’ll have to leave soon.
“It’s late,” is all he says before pressing a kiss onto my left shoulder blade. He doesn’t know it but he’s the only one who’s ever kissed that exact spot. I cherish that secret, knowing in this small way he gets a part of me that nobody else does.
He runs his hands along my arms and then snakes one up and around my neck, tilting my head backward onto his chest. Our eyes meet in the mirror and though I know he’s not going to press any further, I close my eyes and imagine what it would feel like for him to stop new air from entering my lungs and fuck what’s left out of me, one thrust at a time.
“Ask my hyung to choke you next time,” Jeno grits into my ear, voice laced with poison and a jealousy he rarely lets shine through.
His other hand dips low, rubbing my slick up and around my abused clit. I feel him getting hard and when I open my eyes and look at him again, I know the night isn’t coming to an end.
It’s only just begun.
–
a/n: can't get enough of jeno as the other woman? please see my sister's masterpiece for further enjoyment.
CONTENT. SMUT, use of the word “pup”, jake being kind of a perv and also a little bitch, choking, jealousy sex, oral (m&f), voyeurism, emotional cucking lowkey, raw sex, creampie, y/n is a little damaged and well… a down bad sunghoon can fix that!
NOTE. this work is a continuation of THIS. things will make more sense if you read it, but i’ll leave that up to you.
WC. 5k
Jake slams the front door when they make it back home, startling the man hunched over on the couch who’s stuffing his face in a bowl of ramen. Sunghoon’s never seen him before but the lack of reaction from the other demons makes him not question his presence.
Jay shrugs off his coat, hanging it up as he shakes his head in disapproval, “You’ve gotta stop eating that stuff Heeseung, it doesn’t even do anything for you.”
A hand cards through cherry red locks, lips filmed with the oil of the broth as he settles the cleared plate onto the coffee table, “Force of habit, my bad.”
The couch sinks in on Heeseung’s side as Jake lets his weight come crashing down, bottom lip jutted out as he crosses his arms like a petulant child.
Jay expected this much. You see, Jake’s the type to make everyone in his vicinity feel his emotions rather than processing them on his own. After knowing him for so long, Jay knows it’s better to nip his moods in the bud before they have a chance to bloom into something worse, “Dude, he just needed to feed.”
Heeseung’s interest piques, “Oh? The girls are fighting?”
“One girl is fighting.” Sunghoon corrects as he makes his way into the room Jay appointed him, shutting the door with a soft click as his goodbye.
They stew in silence till Heeseung drops his voice to a whisper, “Dude… I thought you were kidding about the white.”
“He refuses to change, thinks he’s better than us or something.” Jake mumbles beneath his breath, tightening the arms over his chest.
Heeseung watches Jay pinch two fingers over the bridge of his nose to massage lightly.
The air is thick but Hee is too out of the loop to understand why. He looks to Jay for an answer but all he does is throw his palms in the air. Jake’s no help either, quiet as he keeps his eye on the portal sitting across from them, “Nah, I’m gonna need some context.”
Jake scoffs, though Heeseung believes he’d stomp his feet if he wasn’t sitting down, attention redirecting to the eldest demon as he points an accusatory finger in Jay’s direction, “He made him play with my favorite!”
“Our favorite.”
The three demons turn to find Sunghoon stepping out of his bedroom, making his way over as he picks some lint off the shoulder of his silky black button up top.
Heeseung’s lips fall into a small ‘o’, Jay lets the teeniest grin pull at the corner of his mouth, and Jake’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets, “Where did you even get that from?!”
“I pressed it for him the night he got here.” Jay responds, “Perfect fit, huh?”
There's a new glow to the young Demon’s face, invigorated from the time he spent inside you tonight. He’s smiley for the first time since his arrival and the image only deepens Jake’s scowl, pumps a heated drip of ire through his veins when he remembers how he saw you two together, “Pfft. She didn’t even like it.”
The claim is gritted, lacking the usual playfulness in his voice. There’s no way you liked it. He attempts to justify. You’re always so different when you’re with Jake. You like being in charge and Sunghoon took that away from you. You didn’t like it—He reiterates to himself in his head, as if the repetition will somehow make it true.
Jay turns to face him, eyes narrowed with a hint of disgust, “How do you know that?”
“I watched.” Jake’s a little too proud in his admission, feeling giddy when Heeseung extends his arm to dap him up. The eldest’s approval is all he needs of his choice. Jake lets the smile melt off his face before looking back at Sunghoon, “She didn’t even kiss you.” He points out, making sure to emphasize each syllable.
Sunghoon knew he was far gone, but not faded enough to not remember the taste of himself on your lips. His gaze drops as he remembers how he lapped up his release from every corner of your mouth till there was nothing left. Fingertips ghost over the plush of his lips just to mimic the feeling before he falls back on Jake, no bite to his correction, just a fond airiness, “She did kiss me.”
“She WHAT!?” Everyone yelps in unison but no one provides reasoning for their reaction.
Sunghoon’s quiet, hand back on his side as he looks to the others for an explanation. Heeseung chops through the stillness, hands clasping together as he moves to the edge of the couch to shed light, “She never kisses us.”
Thick brows lift curiously, “You did it with her, too?”
Heeseung slouches back into his seat, arm draping over the backrest as he nods cheekily, “We all have.” His eyes flit to Jay who looks away immediately, a little embarrassed by the revelation.
Sunghoon’s canines come out of hiding, surprise twinkling in his barely open eyes, “Actually?”
Jay’s hand goes to scratch the back of his neck, skin uncharacteristically flushed a light shade of pink as his voice loses all its confidence, “We were all young demons once...”
Laughter sounds in the living room and Jake’s mood sours further, “She doesn’t like you and we can prove it.” He gripes.
The matter at hand doesn’t concern Heeseung but he’s the first to answer, “How?”
Jake nods to the portal, entirely too sure of himself, “She’ll summon who she really wants.”
“What if it’s n—”
“Okay.” Sunghoon chops through Jay's question.
The certainty takes Jake off guard, makes him fumble his words a bit, “Oh-‘Okay?’ So easily?”
This isn’t about feeding his ego or whatever one sided competition Jake has formed in his own head, Sunghoon’s just curious if what he felt in that room was real or simply the heat of the moment. There’s nothing to lose from this. If he’s wrong, he can move on. If he’s right, well…
Sunghoon’s palm extends out to Jake, smile unshakable, “Winner takes all.” He catches the weight of his words, throat clearing itself, “Uhm, well, if she wants, of course.”
Jake slaps his palm against Sunghoon’s, failing to hide the effects of the bitter sting, “Bet.”
—
It’s been nights, stirred ones with no sleep. Hours of tracing along your ceiling that leave you in a swirl of muddled thoughts since you slept with Sunghoon.
You’ve tried washing his touch from your skin but that didn’t seem to be enough. Each sudsy pass of the loofa only made your stomach flip in reminiscence—caused you to push down on the fading bruises of his grip just to feel something. Whatever happened that night was more than physical and it’s fucking with your head.
More than the impact on your skin, you miss the tenderness that seemed to ooze out of him so effortlessly. How carefully he handled your body afterwards, the cleanup and tuck in that was a stark contrast to how Jake leaves you—with a ruffle to your hair and peck to your temple.
Things with Jake are more quid pro quo. There’s never any preamble, just taking to receive. Sunghoon thanked you, tucked some hair behind your ear and managed to whisper his name before Jake dragged him by the collar and out of the window.
The clock on your nightstand reads 3:24AM and you feel like muffling yourself to death with the pillow, this can’t be my life.
Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts to assess the damage of your thoughts and the result is exactly what you expect: wet, warm, but above all, empty. Between dealing with this on your own and summoning the help you’ve been so desperately in need of, the answer is obvious, right?
You mess the slick over your clit and wait for the clock to hit 3:33. Agonizing ticks that go by so slowly till you find yourself able to call his name, “Hoonie,” The defeated murmur filters through the portal clear as day, “come play with me.” Fingers dip down to rim around your entrance, remembering just how much he filled you up. Your eyes fall shut and a whine trickles into the air, “I feel so empty without you.”
Cool breeze blows through the sheer curtains and you know your begging has paid off. However, instead of finding Sunghoon alone, there’s another figure trailing behind him. When they step into the dimness in your room you’re able to see that it’s Jake.
He bumps past Sunghoon’s shoulder and beelines to where you lay, fingers replacing your own as he curls up into your side. Sex with you gives him an advantage, a list of weaknesses that Jake plans to exploit in order to prove he knows you best.
Plush lips attach to your neck, littering soft kisses but they’re not enough for you to peel your attention away from where Sunghoon stands.
He looks so delicious in the new attire, silky dark material draping over his broad shoulders and teasing what’s underneath with a light wind that blasts him from behind. Despite the change in wardrobe the softness in his eyes when he looks at you remains unshakable.
“Black suits you.” The compliment slips between airy gasps and makes Jake’s blood boil, he whimpers to get your attention, breath ghosting along the column of your neck as he looks up with pleading puppy dog eyes, “You didn’t mean to call him first, right?”
Sunghoon watches you intently, gaze so murky it makes your heartbeat trip up. Is it pure curiosity? Lust? Dare you guess, Jealousy? It’s unfathomable. You want to get to the bottom of it, chip away at Sunghoon’s composure so you can see what lies beneath, force his hand so you can play your cards accordingly.
You put your plan in motion by craning your neck so Jake can cover more ground, feeling his lips begin to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as your eyes remain fixed on Sunghoon’s, slick smile curving the corners of your lips upwards, “Name must’ve slipped.”
Sunghoon lets a dry chuckle out that has you clenching around nothing, “Yeah?”
You feel a sharp pinch on your clit and your hand flings into Jake’s hair in response, threading into the silky strands and giving a tug that makes him whine pitifully, a response that’s inconsistent with the way his cock stirs in his bottoms.
Fingers touch scalp, and you tighten your grip to leverage his attention upwards. Your lips barely graze over his own but the tickle of your breath makes his eyes roll back, leaves him stuck imaging what it would be like to close the gap but you don't give him the chance, only deepen the crane of his neck as you grit into his ear, “What happened to your manners, hmm?”
“‘M sorry.” The grin he flashes shows he’s anything but. You release him, ego fluffing as you watch him lay between your legs all on his own. His eyes twinkle under your observation, waiting for instruction.
“Prove it.”
Instantly, the tip of Jake’s nose nuzzles against the curve of your pussy, pushing the light material of your pj shorts into your heat as he breathes in shamelessly. Your gut tightens, goosebumps forming on the skin of your belly where his fingers come up to toy with your waistband, “Can I?” He lifts his head only to beg because soon enough he nestles himself deeper, burrowing into the material till he feels his nose dampen up.
You make an effort to start grinding against Jake’s face before glancing towards Sunghoon, “You don’t mind, right?”
Are you trying to save face from the other night? Attempting to get a rise out of him? Maybe prove you don’t need him? Doesn’t matter, Sunghoon doesn’t mind being patient when it comes to you. He’s gotten a taste of your pleasure and he can’t stop now. Not when it’s emitting from the bed you’re lying in, radiating off your skin and seeping into his veins like a substance that’s begging to be abused.
With the fleeting sobriety he has left he walks to your vanity and pulls out the stool, settling way too comfortably for your taste, “Not at all.”
His lack of reaction prompts you to twiddle with the swooped strands framing Jake’s face, “Hear that, Jakey?”
He nods, shoving the drenched material between your lips with his tongue while groaning at the taste he gets through the fabric. You arch into the vibration, hook your fingers over his and guide him to pull the shorts down to leave your lower half bare. His ragged breath looms over the lining of your thighs as he waits for you to give him the green light.
Jake leans into your palm as you reach down to caress his cheek, “Be a good pup and show him how good you make me feel, yeah?”
That’s all it takes to have his hands hooking beneath your thighs, fingers sinking into the fat as he flattens his tongue along your cunt. You feel him drag down to collect your wetness, breaching your hole to push the tip in and out before he comes up to swirl circles along your clit.
Jake is hasty about it, doing any and everything in his power to string reactions out of you, whatever cheap tricks up his sleeve to prove he can fuck you better than the man sitting by the window.
For better or worse it works. He plays with the pressure on your clit as two fingers nestle against your sweet spot, working the tenderness with teasing drags till you’re arching into his touch. The bend in your spine doesn’t get him to stop, only encourages him to keep his pace. Creases form between his brows as he feels your pulse pound harder against his tongue.
Teeth dig into your lower lip but it does nothing to conceal the way you unravel beneath him. Your breaths are barely evened out as Jake slips from between your legs and off his knees, still riding the last waves of your high as you watch him lick the taste of you off his lips.
He smiles, forcing you to play unaffected as he hoists you onto his lap. Jake puts his back against Sunghoon so he can watch him pull the scoop of your sleeping top down to cover your chest with wet kisses.
Rather than Jake’s urgency it’s the new pair of eyes that makes you squeal. To ensure your attention is on him, Jake circles around a nipple, grazing his teeth over it to hear you gasp in his ear.
“I did good, right? Made you feel good?” He doesn’t look up as he mumbles the words into your skin, you just feel him adjust your hips so his cock can rub between your folds for some reprieve. To be frank, you don’t remember him ever being this relentless.
“Let me show him, please.” His voice is so pitiful it leaves you with no other option than to immediately give in, nodding to feel him the scratch of his trimmed pubes against your clit. The initial shock of him burrowing in melts into pleasure with a flutter of your lashes.
His clutch on your skin tightens, fingertips digging into the fat of your ass and he kneads your flesh. Playing with the weight before spreading the cheeks to reach deeper. A quick thrust up reminds him how much he’s missed this and suddenly he can’t bring himself to hold back.
Jake swiftly finds his balance, feels you brace onto his shoulders as he uses both his hands to raise you up and sink you down onto his length in one fell swoop. The pornographic whine that falls from your mouth pumps his ego, prompts him to do it again and again.
Your sweltering heat engulfing him whole calls for a raise in tempo, allows for the mix of fluids between your bodies to grow louder with each smack down.
It’s sooner rather than later when Jake realizes he can’t keep this pace so he plants a firm hand on the small of your back, angles his hips so the head of his cock to brush right against your g spot with each snap up.
His desperation becomes your own, running a heated droplet down your spine that spurs you to roll your hips in tandem with his frenzied onslaught, “Fuck Jake, ‘m gonna—”
Whether you planned to or not, you lock eyes with Sunghoon who’s still waiting patiently by your vanity. His eyes squint to register the furrow in your brow, the hesitance in your voice as Jake continues to pound into you, “wanna—”
Your fingernails brand Jake’s shoulders as you search for any semblance of stability, tears welling up in your eyes as you mouth in his direction, “Please.”
Sunghoon’s eyes gradually widen in realization. Permission. The gnash of your hips has died down as you silently beg for Sunghoon to let you cum.
What's worse? He doesn’t even try to bite back his smile, head tilting on its axis to take in the struggle contorting your features.
The hint of mercy furrowing his brows fills you with hope and it takes him one single second to dissipate it with a shake of his head. The greater part of you wants to smack that smug look off his face, the lesser part? She proves to be more subservient. Maybe it’s because she knows the rewards that’ll come from it.
Still, Sunghoon’s denial loads you with frustration and you take it out on Jake with a shove to his chest, doubling down with a hand that snakes around the column of his neck to stop him from stoking your impending orgasm. The twitch of his cock betrays the pitable whimper that manages to escape his throat.
“It’s not a race, Jakey.” Sunghoon reprimands, but it’s more of a taunt, laced with a mocking giggle as he watches the goosebumps raise on Jake’s skin.
He’s too out of it to counter but still present enough to wrap his hands over yours, squeeze them a little tighter with the hopes of getting you to do the same.
Rather than speaking through strained words, Jake entices with watery eyes and a stuttered pump up. That almost always gets his point across and he can feel it in his bones that today will be no different.
In a way it is, you pander to his needs like you always fell into the habit of doing. Starting up a lazy pace as you squeeze a little tighter around his neck. Jake’s fingers release around yours when he feels you comply, falling down to his sides to grasp onto your duvet in an attempt to keep himself grounded. It works for all of a couple seconds but the combination of the steady roll of your hips and grip you have on his airway is beginning to fuzz out his mind.
The muscles of his abdomen flexing is one thing, but once his tongue lols out involuntarily you know he’s devastatingly close to reaching his peak. You keep your tempo languid, wait for some saliva to streak down his chin so you can dip down to lick the mess clean.
He groans when the tip of your tongue meets his heated skin, hiccups a bit when you lean further in to urge him, “Cum in me baby, wanna feel you.”
You’re not really thinking as you say it, all your body knows is that one was enough, it can’t justify letting two orgasms slip through your fingers.
Crescent moons dig into your skin with the instruction and you wince, fucking down harder to steer yourselves closer to the edge, “C’mon Jakey, fill me up.”
He’s seconds away from breaking skin, one last thrust from flooding your insides when Sunghoon cuts in with a snap of his fingers, effectively transporting Jake out of the room.
In all honesty he didn’t think it would work, but he’s glad it did. With the absence of Jake, you collapse onto the mattress, whipping your head in Sunghoon’s direction when he successfully denies you of your second orgasm tonight.
“That’s enough of that.” Is all the reasoning he provides.
You should be mad, should be whining about how mean he’s being, but the anticipation that zips up your spine as his footsteps approach effectively shuts you up. If he were a lesser person he’d point it out, wear a shit eating grin and laugh about in your face.
Instead, his knees sink into the plush of your mattress to draw closer to where you’re kneeling. Palms come up to swipe against your cheeks and the heat emitting from them betrays the cool front he’s putting up.
“He doesn’t deserve you.” Far from a reprimand, it’s an observation. Drawn from the time he’s spent by your vanity watching the dynamic between you and Jake play out. You barely manage to register the whisper that leaves him, “I can treat you better.”
He pulls you out of your stunned state by tucking some strands of hair behind one of your ears, “Will you let me show you?”
Any previous complaint immediately dies on your tongue as you nod in response, under a trance till you see the way he begins to slither between your legs. Between the sleepless nights and Jake your patience is running thin, you grip his wrist before he’s able to drop to his knees and he stops in his tracks, a little confused but compliant nonetheless.
“I need you.”
You admit, eyes glued to the floor because how humiliating that his tongue isn’t enough, that you need him whole, that your body has been anticipating to melt in his hold since he left last time.
The small pinch of apprehension in his shoulders melts away with your confession, lets a hum of gratification ring against the crown of your head as he presses a kiss there. Eyelids flutter shut but reopen when the tips of his fingers come to tip your chin up. His eyes are so glossy they’re almost reflective, heavy lidded as they bore into your own, “I knew it wasn’t just me.” Relief laces his tone but the emotion simmers into the slightest hint of betrayal, “Why didn’t you call for me earlier?”
Why do you feel like you’ve just committed high treason? The string of words are hard to swallow as he sinks a knee between your legs. For every inch he moves closer you retreat, gradually falling back till your spine melts against the mattress and you’re laying flat beneath him.
Sunghoon breathes in the scent of your skin, forming goose bumps along your flesh where he lets his lips graze lightly, “I was waiting for you.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss over the edge of your shoulder and the saliva that stamps your skin is enough to make you twitch, “Stayed up all night just in case.”
He makes up for the lost time by taking it slow, treasureing all the spots Jake left untouched in his haste. Traces his lips over the bumps of your collarbones, to the center of your sternum where he feels your heartbeat pound against the cage of bones. His voice quivers with the contact and you feel his tongue lave over your chest before he speaks again, “How do you want me?”
If you stay like this you might just faint. For self preservation you suggest flipping over, anything to escape the sincerity of his gaze.
He raises up to let you flip on all fours, watches the way you hug a pillow and arch in preparation for his touch. Sunghoon takes it all in, smoothing his palms over your shoulder blades before the pads trace over the column of your spine, reaching the end only to come up and glide over your sides. The caresses give you form as your cunt tightens around nothing.
Sunghoon hears the tacky smack between his worship, kind enough to drop two fingers to play with your wetness but it doesn’t change the fact that his lack of urgency is dizzying, drags across your skin highlighted as they completely contradict that way Jake just handled you.
“Sunghoon… Please.” You push back into his touch to get your point across, huffing into the pillow as soon as you feel the heat of his cock line up against your folds. Teasing, sticky smacks that you’re already dreading to indulge in when Sunghoon’s resolve snaps.
Make no mistake, he wanted to toy with you, but his body made other plans when the head of his cock caught against your entrance, leaving him with no other option than to push forward, sliding in entirely too slowly to feeds you inch after inch. He’s only brave enough to look down when you’ve enveloped him whole, biting back a moan when he sees your slick drenched lips parting at the base of his cock.
Sunghoon doesn’t pull out, just gives a slight roll of his hips to get you both accustomed to the tight squeeze. The movements are minor but they’re enough to make you inch forward a little, getting you to hunch reactively.
He grunts as he dips down to whisper between your shoulder blades, “Too much?”
You shake your head, white-knuckling the pillow in your grasp, “Not enough.”
One of his hands splay around the base of your neck, long fingers threading into the hair of your nape to give a slight tug, a gentle pull that cranes your neck so he can grit into your ear, “Don’t run from me, then.” His head slumps into the crook of your neck when you clench around his cock, punctuating his next sentence with a shallow push in, “You said you’d let me show you.”
With a dumbed out nod you relinquish all the fight left in your body, using what’s left of your brain power to push your hips against his as you gasp into the pillow, voice hoarse and strained, “S-Show me.”
His hands must be magic because with one light press he reinstates the arch in your back, forcing a whimper out your mouth when he stands up straight to pull out completely. Sunghoon lets a few seconds pass. Gives you enough time to miss him before gliding back in with a slow plunge to commit the velvet of your walls to memory, not only for his sake but for yours.
It’s not that he’s had much practice, but he’s attentive enough to know that you like it this way—deep and unhurried. Thought out strokes that give you everything you desire while allowing you to take it all in. A deliberate pace that fizzles your spine, makes you feel boneless with each drag.
He makes it his mission to work up a nice tack, praising the strings of arousal that cling to his matted pubes with each drawback, “S-so good for me.”
You’re losing yourselves in the maze of each other, so fixed on the obscene squelch of each thrust ringing in the room that you fail to register how the buildup of sweat is slowly making you slip on the mattress.
Only a few seconds go by before your knees give out, splitting to leave you limp beneath the mercy of Sunghoon’s onslaught. Not that you’re complaining. The sudden topple allows him to reach impossibly deep. Angles the head of his cock in a way that grinds against a new set of nerves to leave you drooling, feather-brained as biceps fall to cage you in.
It’s so wet and slippery where your skin smacks into each other, pumps losing their rhythm with each second that passes. In one uncalculated pull back he manages to slip out and you both whine at the loss, hands bumping into one another as you both reach to stuff him back into your cunt.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take him long to push back in, hips a little sloppy because of the ache in his abdomen and how close he is to losing it. You’re no better, all tears and mindless babbles that only draw out soft huffs of winded laughter.
Sunghoon summons the discipline to keep his tempo, chest pressing into your spine as he drops to be flush against your cheek. You make out the wetness of his tongue as it swipes out to savor the saltiness of your skin, manage to pick up on his sanded down voice as he continues to rock into you, “I know, I know, ‘m listening.”
The simple sentence gets you spasmining on his cock. Sunghoon winces but it’s more so a suck in of saliva. Arms squeezing around your frame as he pushes through the pulsing of your cunt.
His embrace shifts you on your side, has him pulling you close as he trembles with the last of his release. Ropes after ropes of warm cum that pool in your cervix but you’ve floated into another realm, off into the distance to see the way you hook onto his forearm for stability.
It takes a couple minutes for you to feel like a person again but you get there eventually, just sentient enough to hear the sound of his cum bubble out of your spent pussy. Sunghoon doesn’t pull out until he’s limp and even then he stops when you whine, burrows himself into the crook of your neck to ask what's wrong.
“Don’t go.” You croak.
Sungoon smiles weakly into your skin. He was never gonna leave, just figured you’d appreciate a cleanup before you drifted into dreamland but he’s glad he doesn’t have to leave this warmth. That he gets to bask in the aftermath he’s created since no one is here to drag him away.
He reaches to pull your mussed up comforter over your bodies, feels a sense of peace when you nestle into his forearm and let your eyes flutter shut. It doesn’t take much for him to follows suit, feeling the evenness of your breaths land against his skin as he begins to doze off.
Sunghoon often dwelled about his severed ties with the clouds but in the dimness of your room and how your body hugs him close despite your unconsciousness, he can’t help but feel like every decision he’s made was necessary; a string of sequences that were preordained, fated.
—
couldn’t bring myself to proof sunghoon’s scene if it’s bad don’t tell me 🙏
Recently fallen Angel Sunghoon is having a hard time adapting to the ways of the underworld. Thankfully he crosses paths with Jay, a seasoned demon that kinda has this habit of taking in strays, Jake for example. Together, the two of them try their best to help him acclimate to this new way of life.
genre: Demon/Incubus AU
warnings: SMUT, degradation, masturbation, voyeur Sunghoon, oral (both receiving), cum play but like its endearing, reader’s kind of slutty idk how else to dice that 🤷♀️
word count: 3.3k
note: first time writing for enha, that Lucifer sprite was too potent…
“He’s doing it again Jay! Can you please tell him to get a grip?” Jake whines, sprawled out on the couch, draping an arm over the top part of his face, “He’s straining my eyes.”
Jay steps out from the kitchen donning an apron and pink vinyl gloves, exasperation evident the second he lays eyes on Sunghoon, “Heaven dropped you a month ago, wearing white isn’t gonna make them take you back.” He walks back into the kitchen in dismissal, “Shower and get changed, you’re feeding tonight.”
Jake suddenly perks up at the plans, “We’re feeding?”
“He’s feeding.” Jay corrects, “The fae don’t seem to be enough, he looks like a breeze could blow him away.”
It’s been a month since Sunghoon’s eaten something. Anything. The underworld cuisine simply isn’t to his tastes. In Heaven they dined lavishly, with all types of gourmet offerings presented daily. Fine cheeses, wines, ripe fruit baskets, the leanest meats, stark contrast to the whole consuming-energy-for-sustenance thing they have going on down here.
Any form of energy will do but Lust is ideal, the body of a demon soaks it up like a well balanced meal. Jay has taken him to a brothel just to keep him alive, lets him pick from the finest nymphs money could buy but Sunghoon isn’t as receptive as they’d like to believe. Even now he remains obstinate, fixing the collar of his prim white top, “Respectfully, I would like to decline.”
Jay steps back out into the living room void of his cleaning supplies, leaving him in a crisp head to toe black fit, “It wasn’t an offer, we’re going and that’s final.”
—
“I can’t believe you let him leave the house like that.” Jake is pulling the strings to his loose fitted black hoodie, leaning in to whisper his concern into Jay’s ear, “What if someone sees us?!”
Wearing white may exude integrity and nobility in the clouds but in the underworld it’s synonymous with weakness—fragility. Personifies those who are still clinging onto that last bit of innocence they clearly lack.
Sunghoon sticks out like a sore thumb, attire practically glowing in the poorly lit streets of this hell hole. He garners dirty looks every corner they cut and eventually Jay grows tired, of both the stares and Jake’s incessant complaining.
In a second, the three are snapped onto a rooftop, high winds promising to take Sunghoon away till Jay gets a firm grip on his shirt, pulling him back from the ledge, “There,” he points to a window Jake has grown accustomed to sneaking in through the darkest hours of the night.
His eyes widen like saucers, “Wait! She’s my favorite, he can’t feed on her! Pick someone else!”
Jay just crosses his arms, “She’s insatiable and he needs it.” He goes on to prick the vertebrae popping out of the skin of Sunghoon’s neck, “Just look at him.”
Jake’s not handling the news well, resorting to pacing while Sunghoon has yet to speak, eyes still fixed on the window a few floors beneath them. Jay’s the first to break though Jake’s scuffles, “Plus they’ve grown attached.” He adds offhandedly, “I walked in on him spying on her from the portal at home.”
Jake’s fists pull along Sunghoon’s collar, “You what?!”
A finger flicks against Jake’s forehead, effectively loosening his grip, “Leave him alone, you two can duke it out after he feeds.”
The only thing that follows is a snap and suddenly Sunghoon finds himself in a dark corner of your room.
—
The smell of you is everything he’d imagined. Sweet, airy, mixed with the slight sheen of sweat you’ve worked up exerting yourself this late. He breathes the heady scent into his lungs and feels his organs rejuvenate from the inhale.
You hold a toy steady against your clit, wetness thrumming against the vibrations as hips push up on their own. It sounds more vulgar than when it’s muffled through the portal Jay keeps at home but Sunghoon can’t peel away from the sight, enticed by the way you teeter on the edge of your release and pull back before the pleasure can wash over.
Needy short gasps get breathed out into the air and he knows his favorite part is up next. The one where you fall victim to your imagination and call out to someone who isn’t there. Groaning out profanities and promises of “taking it all” bouncing off the walls of your lonely room.
“Again?” A voice speaks out from the dim corner of your room and you immediately look up, eyes dazed as you peer over in the direction of the voice. The only attempt at covering yourself is pushing your thighs together to try and drown out the hum of your rose,
“Jakey? Is that you? Finally come to help me?”
Sunghoon can smell your arousal grow thicker, hear the pound in your chest dance around in the air around him. He sucks in a deeper breath to take it all in, the lust weaved into every particle in this room. A little peeved at the excitement that laced the air when you thought he was Jake, he clears his throat to try and mask the discontent, “Not Jakey.”
He steps out from the shadows and you relish in the fact that this is definitely not your usual helper. Where Jake’s appearance is naturally boyish, he looks more sharp. Despite the bags under his eyes and the hollowed out cheeks, his skin still gleams underneath the silvery moonlight creeping through the window. He’s all angles and contrast—elegant, regal. All tummy churning, the same.
“You really have to get a boyfriend or something.” He stalks towards the foot of your bed, reaching ghostly white fingers between your legs to switch the toy off, “This noise is so annoying.”
“Are you offering?”
He sniffles, bringing his fingers up to his nose to wipe the nonexistent snot away. The action is self serving, an excuse to get a whiff of the slick that’s been plaguing his mind for weeks. Sunghoon has to make a conscious effort to not roll his eyes back, “Please, I don’t meddle with humans.”
The measly excuse only makes you laugh, “And yet.”
Sunghoon scoffs but he keeps his eyes on you, “They forced me to come here.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He doesn’t think he’s heard someone sound less sincere in their life, keen on watching you spread your legs in his direction, eyes tracing the way your folds glimmer underneath the teeniest sliver of moonlight leaking through your window, “I’m sure I can make it worth your while.”
Sunghoon raises a perfectly groomed brow in your direction, “Don’t you have any shame?”
You size him up where he stands, eyes falling into the lower half of his body where a bulge is beginning to tent the silky white pants he’s wearing, you swear if you squint you can see a small wet patch where the tip of his cock is straining against. You reach the ball of your foot to press against it, “Don’t you?”
He groans and represses a whine in his throat but doesn’t pull away. If anything you feel him press up against it, watch his head loll back as his hips roll against the plane of your foot, humiliation twisting his pretty features as he keeps a slow pace.
He’s fighting this, that much is clear. Stuck between wanting to adhere to the puritan Angel code of conduct while his body burns to feel more. Lucky for him, you’re burning too, have been for the past couple of hours. The feeling alone is enough to have you pulling away, seeing the confusion in his eyes morph into relief as you shuffle off the mattress to kneel at his feet.
To compare this to the nymphs and fae of the underworld would be a crime, in his experience they always act in self interest, pleasing him only to get something in return. You’ve dropped to your knees of your own volition, nuzzled yourself up against his clothed cock just to feel the weight of it against your face.
Hours of teasing your body has left you dopey, too needy to be anything but sincere and it’s fraying the few threads that are keeping him together. The final string unravels when you drag your hot tongue along the silk cloth of his bottoms. Material strained to hug his weeping tip, just translucent enough for you to find his slit and swipe your tongue against it.
His breath stammers and you’re already looking up at him through your lashes when he gathers the courage to peer down at you. You flatten your tongue against him with the intention of making him reach a point of no return, “We can help each other.”
Your hand reaches to palm him, keeping your touch delicate—tantalizing, “Let me make you feel good, yeah?”
He nods before his brain can process the words, fueled by the promise of feeling you without the barrier of his sodden bottoms. The cold air of your room pricks his skin in the most delicious way, especially with the contrast of your warm breath ghosting his shaft. Ignoring the tip and veins in favor of beginning lower, pushing his throbbing cock against his navel to suck on his balls.
A nasty task you make sure to take your time with, swirling and drooling over the sack and watching them raise into themselves with each debauched drag of your tongue, giggling to yourself as you move your way up coating him in your spit and lazily pumping what's out of reach. Watching his tummy tighten as you finally find the kindness to part your lips around his cock.
Engulfing him in a dizzying wet heat that pushes his hips forward involuntarily. A hum of approval thrums around his length and he can’t stop himself from doing it again, and again, and again. Till the cluster of nerves lining the head of his cock is slamming against the back of your throat. Egged on by your wet lashes, the strings of drool running down your chin, and they way you pull him close as he chases his release, burying your nose into the trimmed tuft of hair that pools at the base of his cock.
“Fuck, I—”
“Mmhmmm.”
The vibrations send a jolt of electricity up his spine, floods a pool of warm cum down your throat that spills past the corners of your lips. Sunghoon doesn’t give you enough time to recover as he pulls you close, cradles your face with newfound curiosity and slips his tongue past your lips to get a taste of himself on your tongue.
It should feel nasty and gross but when he groans at the bitterness you let flow into his mouth a tension coils in your abdomen, pebbling your skin when he holds you by the neck so he can lap up the gooey ribbons that spilled past the corners of your lips.
There’s a glossy coat to his eyes that makes the ache between your thighs throb. He’s surprisingly calm when he asks you to lay down, ridding himself of the last of his clothes as you settle on your bed.
Your legs part instinctively and he dips his elbows into the mattress to come face to face with your sopping heat, “Hmmm, you humans are—” He takes two fingers to pull your folds apart, lewdly marveling at your cunt, “Different.” An icy cold hand soothes over your exposed thighs, playing with the weight of your flesh under his palm, “Much warmer too.” The examination makes you squirm and he can’t help but be intrigued by your reaction, “Now you’re shy?”
Heat creeps up your neck and bleeds into your face, “‘s embarrassing.”
Fingers spread you further apart, blowing into your pussy just to watch some wetness leak out. He gathers it up with the pad of his thumb, messing it over your aching clit, “Looks like you like it.” Your thighs try to push together in self preservation but he stops them from closing, looking a little defeated as he soothes circles into the soft lining of your skin, “You said we’d help each other feel good, right?”
All you can muster up is a dumbed out nod, sighing out in relief when he hooks your legs over his shoulders, barely giving you time to brace yourself as his tongue skims across your wet slit. In a long broad stroke that sends your mind reeling. Clumsy and exploratory, tracing along the tender flesh to see what makes garners the best reaction.
The beat of your pulse dances on the tip of his tongue and he savors every second of it. Saliva runs down his chin from how messy he’s being. Repeatedly parting your lips till he works up enough courage to slip a finger inside, finding no resistance. Just the hunger to feel the heat swallow his cock, the thought alone jerks his hips into your plush duvet, starts an agonizing rut that doesn't bring any sort of relief.
On the bright side you seem to be enjoying yourself, having no problem in sucking in the digits till you meet with the balls of his knuckles, hips writhing when he pulls out with no hurry, angling his fingers so they catch on your g-spot on their way out.
He’s stringing you along, teasing enough to have your back arch off the mattress. He splays his free hand on your tummy to keep you still, pressing just below your belly button as he attaches to your swollen clit. Sucking to accompany the lazy drag of his fingers to have your breath hitch, hear that broken quiver in your voice when you warn him that you’re close, so close.
A hum thrums against your heat and finally brings you to the release you’ve been chasing all night. Reactively smothering his face between your thighs till the sparks finish washing over. Sunghoon is panting when you let him come up for air but he’s got a smile on his face, lazy, thankful, a little hopeful. With a teeny glint behind his iris that’s pleading for you to allow him to string something else out of you.
Sunghoon shuffles off the bed and onto his feet, towering over where you lay as he begins to palm his cock, “Can you do it again?” He white knuckles his base and you watch a fresh bead of pre trickle down his shaft, “On me this time?”
He throbs in his grasp and you can only lick your lips at the sight, milky white skin even all over except for where his head glows a bright shade of pink. Glossy from all the slight grazes but agitated more than anything, burning in his grasp from not being able to touch himself properly.
When you nod, his grip circles around your ankles, moving you to the edge and not giving you enough time to prepare for the weight of his cock on you. Tacking it against your slicked up cunt to watch the way your folds immediately part around him. A warm welcome that has both of you wincing at the contact, furrows a deep crinkle in between his thick brows.
He pushes all the way up till he grazes against your pounding clit, savoring the hitch in your breath, how the remnants of your cockiness evaporate with each pull back. Leaving you a writhing mess as he continues to fuck himself against your pussy. Unhurried and sensual drags that run your arousal down the seam of his balls. In one of his pull backs the head of his cock catches against your entrance and you decide that enough is enough.
Too far gone to hide the shiver in your devastated plea, “Please, please.”
He runs a hand down the sides of your legs just to feel the pebbled skin. There’s no real warning or a tell, just a shift in his pelvis that pushes the tip of his cock into your sopping heat, “This?” Every muscle in his body locks but he keeps his tone cool, a deep teasing whisper that serves to taunt as he shallowly rolls in, just enough to have you repeatedly stretching open to accommodate him, “This what you want?”
Your pulse pounds in your ears but it’s not enough to drown out the sound of his voice. You fight the lump in your throat, restoring the dryness in your mouth, and just as you’re about to let something out he sinks himself all the way in. To the hilt as he falters on the backs of your thighs, mind entering a depraved haze as your gummy walls flutter around his cock.
Whatever hopes he had of returning to Heaven disintegrate as he grinds into where you two meet. A deviant smirk pulls at his lips, just enough to showcase a bright canine that you feel drag against your jawline, up into the shell of your ear where it sinks in lightly. You clench at the feeling and the heat of his faint laughter warms you from the inside out, “Feels so good when you do that.”
Hips draw back on their own but this time he basks in the slow push, working you open in a languid thrust that knocks the air out of your lungs. He watches your mouth gape with stars in his eyes, hissing into the heated skin of your neck as he ducks to place a kiss there, “Juust like that.”
You nod but it's more of a mindless doze, whatever gets him to keep his pace because he’s pressing up against your sensitive cluster of nerves so perfectly, like he was molded to fuck you. You’re below suppressing your noises for him now, left in a limp puddle of whimpers and strangled noises beneath him.
Legs meet with a sticky slap every time he plunges into you and the atmosphere takes over. The dazed slur added to your words, the heady scent of sex mingling in the air. It all forces him to drive his weight into your poor cunt, landing into you with an obscene squelch over and over and over.
A light film of drool slicks up your neck but it’s hard to say who it belongs to at this point. Words are chopped with each of his thrusts, reduced to winded little rasps that get half muffled into your skin, “Gonna take it all, yeah?”
Words are lost on you, body resorting to locking around his shoulders, melting against him chest to chest as your walls cling around his cock for dear life. Needles drill into his lower back and prickle their way up his spine as his pace becomes erratic, chasing his high as he fucks you through yours.
With one final thrust he succumbs to his convulsions, over exerted body twitching and trembling with each rope of cum he shoots into your heat. His vision may be a little fuzzed out but he can still hear, still focus entirely too much on the sound of his cum bubbling out of your spent pussy as you milk him for everything he’s worth.
You feel him nose into your cheek when you don’t say anything for too long, like a pup who’s afraid he’s roughhoused too much, relief evident in the shaky sigh he lets out when he hears a weak giggle leave your lips. You turn your head to face him but you only manage to stare up in quiet awe, trying to formulate a coherent thought when a stern voice pipes from your window, “Feedings over.”
You turn first and spot the silhouette of your beloved Jakey, but he’s not wearing the usual dopey smiley he dawns each time he stops to visit you. His features darkened up, picking his cuticles raw as he focuses on you under Sunghoon, legs still keeping his body flush against yours, “The two of you have fun?”
in short: Dino is like “the stars want us to go on a date sooo bad, who are we to deny them?”
warnings: just a fun time, rizz-less rizz, dk as ur bff :D
note: the spell mv changed me and this is one of the (many) results of streaming it, bon appetit!
Dk and I make it a tradition to kick off our Summer at the county fair. It’s the two of us, every single ride (yes, even the teacups!), and whatever sorts of deep fried concoctions we can stomach.
Our night of fun is coming to an end and we decide to sneak in an extra snack. Dk is munching on one of those spiral potato sticks and I’m waiting for them to dust off the funnel cake my family begged me to bring back. Just as I get handed my order I feel Dk yank me by the arm, “Look, his line is finally gone, let’s go!”
Dk got his cards read once and claimed it changed his life so he’s been trying to get me to do it ever since. I tried keeping us away from this part of the grounds because I haven’t figured out a way to tell him that psychics aren’t real, that it’s a bunch of low-life’s that look at innocent people (like him) and see a walking money sign.
It’s hard to breaks news like that so instead I let him drag me towards this shabby little tent with a sign posted outside of it that reads: The magnificent Lee Chan, under the name is a bullet point list of the services he can provide: Tarot Reader, Palm Reader, Psychic, Medium, I squint to make sure I’m reading the last part correctly, part time Apink cover dancer?
Hidden behind the flap is everything I expected. The cheapest blue velvet fabric is draped over a small round table. All sorts of knick knacks are scattered along it as well, a partially lit candelabra, crystals, a stack of old books who’s covers are too dusty to read anything off of them, and I can’t ignore the huge crystal ball off to the side even if I tried. It looks like this Magnificent Lee Chan went into a thrift store with $20 and a dream.
Ugh, and he stopped to pick up some incense too. It’s gonna take me forever to get this smell of out of my clothes.
Just before I can get my whole body out of the tent my best friend’s arm drags me back in, “Hi! I was wondering if you’d be able to give her a reading?”
Before me stands the man I’ve been avoiding all evening. He’s not built like what I had thought up in my head. He’s about 40 years younger, with short black hair and a fresh fade that’s bleeding into his nape as he stuffs something into an old gold chest that looks just as long as he is, “I’m sorry guys, I’m just about to close up.” When he shifts to look back at us, his hand that had been holding the chest up slips, causing the top to bonk against his head.
Immediately Dk and I try hiding into each other, teeth clamped over our lips as the psychic smooths over the spot he just bumped. I shift my focus to the ground because I know that if I lock eyes with either of them I’ll burst into laughter.
“You know, I think I have time for one more.” An open palm slices through my view of the floor, “Uh-I’m Chan, Lee Chan.”
I slot my hand into his and find the courage to look him in the eyes. Big mistake. He’s way more attractive up close, unsettling so. I clear my throat and any smile I had from before instantly drops, “I know, we-ah, we read it on your sign outside.”
“Just in case you didn’t.” He smiles, broad and unaffected like he didn’t just give himself a concussion a few seconds ago. After he lets my hand go, Chan gestures to the seat that’s opposite his on the table, “Please, have a seat.” He turns to look at Dk apologetically, “I don’t have another chair but, the trunk is honestly pretty comfortable.” Dk nods and skips behind him.
I watch Chan settle in front of me and reach for the neatly stacked deck on his side, when he begins to shuffle my attention drifts over his focused face then slowly down to his hands and how they handle the cards. He’s showing off because I seriously doubt that this reading required him to flip half the deck in mid air. When I look up to try and gauge what he’s playing at he’s already looking at me, with a soft smile and a slight tilt to his head to show that he caught me staring.
My eyes narrow as he starts to fan the cards out in front of me, “Trying to read my mind?”
He throws his head back while laughing boisterously, “Nonsense, I don’t offer that service.” He shrugs his shoulders and signals to the perfectly laid out cards, “I’m simply a messenger for the spirits.”
“And apparently an Apink cover dancer.” My hand goes to the middle first, pushing the first card I land on in his direction.
His laughter turns bashful, “What can I say? I was blessed with many talents.” He retorts, seemingly pleased with the card I chose, “That was an excellent choice.”
“You haven’t even flipped it over yet.”
Two fingers dip to pull the card to the edge, “You get a feel for these things when you’ve been doing it so long.” He rejoices as he flips it over, bringing the card up to show it to my bestfriend behind him, “Three of cups.”
Dk’s in complete awe of this dude, “That makes so much sense!”
Sham, I’m sorry, Chan turns around to face him completely, “I’ve actually been pulling this one all day.”
They’re speaking but I can’t understand anything. This is exhausting I just want to go home and enjoy my cake, “What’s it mean?”
Chan turns to face me again, “Represents camaraderie and a good time. Makes sense for a ray of sunshine like you to pick it, huh?”
Ha. Ha. My eyes roll back on their own, “Will that be all?”
“You’re supposed to pick three.” Dk insists, taking the final bite of his spiraled potato.
“Fine.”
I go to the left of the fan this time, making sure to take my time with this one, hovering between two when Chan’s voice cuts through the silence, “Let the card pick you.”
Did they teach him to say that in psychic school? I scoff before inevitably falling on the one farthest from me.
“Oh.” He’s surprised when he flips it over, eyes bouncing back and forth from me to the card. He continues to do this for a couple of more seconds and even though I don’t believe in this stuff, my gut can’t help but twist. My mind has a habit of jumping to the worst and something in him senses that because his empty hand comes up so as to sever my train of thought.
“Nothing bad, it's just the first time I pull this.” Chan sets the card on the table and smirks when Dk gasps, entirely too happy that someone else is just as excited as he is, “The lovers.”
Dk hops off the trunk and near the table, “Oh my god, do you think it’s the guy you’ve been texting?”
“I don’t—”
Chan clears his throat a little too loudly, “This guy, is he a…Boyfriend?”
“Just a coworker.” I clarify, only to set the record straight.
“They have so much in common.” Dk adds on my side.
I watch Chan’s shoulders ease up, “Nothing to worry about then.” Just as I’m about to question he starts off again, “I’m sure from the name you can tell this one represents romance. Specifically in opposites attracting.” I’m not sure if he’s cognizant of it, but his hand is motioning between us now, “Newfound feelings, finding a balance between likes and dislikes… That sort of thing.”
I’m feeling smug so I cross my arms and lean back into my seat, “Do they have a card that represents liars? You know, the sort of people who would manipulate and mold the narrative to try and have things go their way?”
“Seven of swords.”
I didn’t expect him to answer, much less so quickly and judging from the way his lip curls up he can tell. He’s back to his cool, unphased self in record time, “I wouldn’t worry about that since you haven’t pulled it. We’ll pull a final card for clarification, just to be sure.”
I feel Chan’s eyes on me as I choose my last card. When I push it his way he flips it over and looks satisfied, like it’s the card he’s been willing me to pull all along. I don’t have to ask him anymore. He just tells me the meaning when I look at him, “Nine of cups. Represents a happy ending achieved in unexpected ways. Dreams realized, fulfillment, pleasure, that sort of thing.”
I can see Dk’s smile grow from my peripheral as he darts back and forth between Chan and I. I’m ignoring it though, I don’t wanna feed into either of them. I put on my poker face and act as nonchalant as possible, “Any other messages?”
Chan looks around before bringing his fingers to his forehead, “Ah, yes! It’s coming to me now.” His eyes clamp shut and he looks a little pained as he nods his head, “Yes. Mhmm. Okay, I’ll ask.” He blinks open and he greets me with the same goofy smile from when we first locked eyes, “The spirits would like to know if you’re free for dinner tonight?”
(I'm the one who felt a heartbreak for the ending of perfect note)
that's why it HURTS 😭 cuz whatever their decision will be, johnny or hers (oc), ITS GONNA HURT A LOT 🥲🥲🥲 and at this point as a reader im hurting too 😭😭😭😭 why cant you let them have a happily ever after fairy tale type of wedding 😭😭😭 but really for u to have me emotionally damaged by your means i LOVED it so much u can considered me obsessed with it (but not in a creepy way)
dearest heartbreak anon,
I need you to know this ask has been eating at me for weeks, because what do you mean a wedding? they are 20-22 years old I want more for them both!!!
I'm trying to graduate college this week so I've been quiet but I am writing an epilogue, stay tuned💗
We should be outside enjoying this ocean view. The thing is, his hand grazed me once and I couldn’t bring myself to put a stop to it.
The only thing that keeps us company is the blue moonlight leaking through and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. My lips are so sore from feeling his teeth gently sink into them. He keeps his eyes on me as he tugs and I can hear a weak chuckle leave him when I moan at the feeling.
I’ll reprimand him for toying with me like this but for now I’m stuck fighting the riptide he’s thrown me in. Every time his lips drag across my body my breath hitches and I drown a little deeper. We sway against each other in a dance that he’s leading because my mind’s too clouded by him to think clearly. He’s everywhere, wafting within the plush of these comforters, bouncing off the walls as he groans when I pull him impossibly close, threading his touch into my bloodstream.
He keeps his tempo regardless, controlled and doused in patience every though I know he’s at the verge of crumbling. This motion is the only thing I want to know, deep, languid, and all encompassing. We’re diving head first into the feel of each other before even thinking of taking a deep breath in. Sinking further with each second that passes.
From the tender kiss he places on my sweaty forehead, to the moment he decides to lick up the hot tear that’s starting to roll down my cheek, it’s like he’s testing my limits. Behind each of his caresses is a desire to know me more and I’ll let him.
I’ll give him anything he wants if he promises to keep this secret language between us.
—
could be read for anyone, but dino was heavy on the mind for this i cannot lie…
You guys she's holding a Jeno fic she promised me for my birthday SEVEN MONTHS AGO hostage and she's clickity clacking writing seventeen drabbles in her spare time??
I hope all 75 of my followers read this fic instead bc it deserves the world and then help me cyber bully her into finishing my freaking story!!!
THE PERFECT NOTE ACT II IS JUST SO GOOD LIKE ITS PERFECT 😭💞 but ngl i felt my heart break for the 2nd time in my whole life when i read the end part 🥺😭
THANK YOU FOR READING🩷🩷
spoilers under the cut:
surely Johnny isn’t gonna let the love of his life fly away after he’s finally been in her guts and didn’t even do his worst on her????
or maybe he does (if you love something set it free and all that) …
pairing: alpha johnny x omega reader
genre: abo, angst, smut, fluff, strangers to friends to soulmates, college au
featuring: bffs and alphas jaehyun & jungwoo
word count: 16.5k
smut warnings under cut
summary: after spending all of ACT I running from Johnny, y/n navigates what it would be like to run to him instead.
ACT I - ACT II
series complete.
a/n: a very special shout out to my twin sister @caratzen. to call her a beta reader would be derogatory. from being with me when I thought of the story to listening to all my ideas and reading every rewrite, thank you. I love you (to the moon, and to saturn).
now playing: dress (taylor swift)
smut warnings: scenting, knotting, biting, oral, raw sex, minors dni
Jae: You call THAT talking?
Jae: hello?????
Jae: oh, now I’M getting the silent treatment?
“This is incredible,” Jungwoo whispers almost to himself, pulling my attention back to him.
“Ugh, I know,” after I locked myself in my room and…decompressed…from seeing Johnny I found myself stuck in a haze again and wrote a piece that I know will go in my portfolio, as the centerpiece. “I was hoping you would hate it.”
“Why?” He looks up from my laptop with a quizzical look on his face.
“There’s so much I have to catch you up on,” I disclose. He loves a good scoop. It’s the reporter in him.
“Sleepover?” He raises both eyebrows as a smile creeps across his face.
“Yes.” I’ll text Jaehyun back tomorrow, once Jungwoo helps me figure out what to say.
⸻
“You were in charge of the food,” I accuse mid laugh.
“And I brought food!” Jungwoo points to the empty bottles of soju littered on the coffee table.
“Should we order something?” I unlock my phone but Woo places his hand over mine before answering.
“Can we order something? It’s late.”
“I hate small town hours,” I groan. It was one of the biggest cons when I was choosing where to go to school.
“You ca-”, a knock on the door cuts us off. Jungwoo points to himself, and to me, as if to say we’re all here, who’s missing? The phone in our hands vibrates and we both look down to see a message come in.
Jae: open the door, sunshine. I know you’re in there.
A mischievous grin spreads across Jungwoo’s face and he sprints for the door before I have a chance to react. In the doorway stands Jaehyun, smiling, and presents us both with two bags in his hands.
“I knew I liked you!” Jungwoo announces, taking the bags from his hands and ushering him inside.
“I stopped by because I was worried. I see now I shouldn’t have been,” Jaehyun teased. I love that about him, the way he says things but his scent and demeanor remain calm and welcoming.
An overwhelming sense of relief floods through me, and encouraged by the warmth in my blood from the soju I walk right into his chest and take a deep breath in, “I missed you.”
“I really was worried about you,” he reiterates into the top of my head where he places a kiss that warms my blood even further. Maybe it’s the kiss, or maybe it’s the faintest trail of coffee I pick up from within the fibers of Jaehyun’s shirt.
“Lover boy, can you cook?” Woo interrupts and with that, the moment ends and Jaehyun steps out of my embrace to give my best friend his undivided attention.
“Loverboy?” Jae cocks his head and raises a single eyebrow.
“Suits you,” Woo shrugs, “so, can you? Because neither of us can. And you brought…ingredients.” He says that last word with a frown on his face.
“I cook, I figured I would cook for you and we could talk,” Jaehyun walks over to Jungwoo’s side and starts taking the groceries out of the bag Jungwoo was digging through.
“Yes, since you have the inside scoop on the alpha trying to steal my omega,” Jungwoo snickers.
“We’re gonna need more alcohol,” I groan.
“Check the other bag,” Jaehyun smiles through his reply, and starts to collect things from around my kitchen as Jungwoo pours us all another round.
And another, and another.
⸻
“YOU WHAT?” Jungwoo howls then erupts into a fit of laughter.
“This can’t be happening,” I say to myself, because neither of them are listening to me anymore.
“That’s what he said, on the piano,” Jaehyun is nodding enthusiastically. He’s an animated drunk, almost childlike.
“I can’t believe he told you that,” I grumble.
“Do you think he tasted it?” Jungwoo muses.
“Are you kidding me? I would’ve,” Jaehyun shrugs.
“JAEHYUN!” I scold.
“No he’s right,” Jungwoo agrees, “it’s an alpha thing.”
The two of them share a nod, a solidarity I couldn’t even begin to understand.
I roll my eyes and we take another drink.
⸻
Jaehyun added Jungwoo, and John to the chat.
Jungwoo updated “Jaehyun” to “Loverby💌”
Jungwoo updated “John” to “Silck Licker”
Loverby💌 updated “Slick Licker” to “Silck Licker (allegedly)”
Loverby💌: Johnny boyyyyyyyyy we wanna know did you licked my precious sunshine’s slick off of the piano.
Jungwoo: also when are yalls gonna smooch ON THE LIPS
Loverby💌 emphasized “also when are yalls gonna smooch ON THE LIPS”
Silck Licker (allegedly): what is going on right now?
Loverby💌: SLEEPOVRe
Loverby💌: came to sea if she’s ok
Jungwoo: answer befor she find us PLASE
Silck Licker (allegedly) updated “Silck Licker (allegedly)” to “Slick Licker (confirmed)”
“I KNEW IT,” Jungwoo bellows and it wakes me up. He and Jaehyun are both laughing and high-fiving when I fully open my eyes.
“Wtimes it?” I stretch out on the floor where we’re all lying, from under the shirt that Jaehyun brought me. He leans in so close that in another universe I’d kiss him if the thought of anyone else made sense.
“It’s late sunny, sleep tight,” Jaehyun combs his fingers through my hair once he settles down, and before I can ask them what’s so funny, I drift back to sleep.
⸻
“Is that how it always is? Losing control like that?” I exhale the question that’s been burning in the back of my throat since I left the practice room. The cover of the predawn darkness and the alcohol still swimming in my blood eases the tension I feel whenever I think about what happened.
“What you described? No,” Jungwoo shakes his head, “during a rut, maybe?” he offers. In the privacy of this moment and the intimacy we’ve fostered together he too is a little different: more relaxed, less forced.
“I can’t imagine The Jungwoo, editor of The Quill being at the mercy of anything, let alone an omega,” I tease softly.
“I’m at your mercy all the time,” he confides, “because I trust you, and I love you,” he takes the hand closest to him in both of his and squeezes to emphasize his point.
“He scares me, Woo. I don’t feel…safe when I’m with him,” I confess.
“And you feel safe with me?” He knows I do, so I know he’s setting up an argument. Ever the journalist, even now that we’re speaking in hushed tones in between Jaehyun’s snores.
“Yes,” I answer immediately.
“Did you always?”
I think back to the first time he touched me, scented me. It wasn’t a moment like this. It was outside a party, and he promised he wouldn’t leave me alone. He smiled and slipped his hand in mine before bringing it up to his lips, kissing the back of my hand softly. His scent lingered there all night, calming my nerves. That was the first time I felt the soothing balm of an alpha’s claim. With Jungwoo, it’s never been about what he does when we’re alone, it’s that he doesn’t change when others are watching. It was a comfort I had never been afforded, and I’ve coveted every moment since.
“I think you should give him a chance to earn your trust,” he pulls me from my memory to say what he’s been thinking for a while.
I let the silence wrap around me, to think about what he’s said, and how I feel about it.
“Woo,” I whisper some time later, testing to see if he’s still awake.
“Mm?”
“Why are you rooting for him?”
“’Mnot. I’m rooting for you.”
⸻
The sound of an old car horn starles me into consciousness. I feel around for the source and silence the alarm only for it to start ringing again a few seconds later. I peek out one eye and see that it’s an incoming call, and that this has to be Jaehyun’s phone because I don’t recognize the case or the contact.
I put it on DND and try to go back to sleep when a soft knock lands on my door.
Begrudgingly, I sit up and see my Jaewoo cuddling together almost underneath the tv.
Another knock.
I drag myself to my feet and wrap the shirt around my body before unlatching the lock and pulling the door open. I’m not surprised to see Johnny in the hallway, a bag in one hand and a white box wrapped in twine in the other.
I should be questioning why he’s here, or how he knew my favorite bakery. I should wonder how he knew to call Jaehyun, how he knew to knock softly.
Right now, standing at my door staring at this man, Jungwoo’s words wrap themselves around me. I’m rooting for you.
I open the door a little wider and raise my finger to my lips so he knows to tread lightly. He leaves his shoes by the door and follows me: past our friends, past the kitchen island, and behind the door at the far end of the apartment.
“So,” I lean against my vanity and watch him stand awkwardly in front of my bed, “how are things?”
“How are things? Lets see: you keep avoiding me, having sleepovers with my best friend, and somehow you’re wearing the shirt I had on yesterday and that’s the first thing you ask me?” He gets it all out in one breath, clearly a little on edge even though the sheepish smile on his face hasn’t faded.
“I don’t know how to start this, Johnny,” I admit, “we’ve never had a real conversation before. We could get into why you were at my door or how you knew Jaehyun was here or why we end up acting like teenagers everytime we’re near each other but I don't know, I’d rather just sit here and talk before those two bozos wake up. Is that okay?” I look up down at the box of pastries in his hand and reach for it, too nervous to look at his face in case I find rejection. I plop onto my bed and pull the string, taking a muffin out of the box and picking at the toppings.
The bed moves from him sitting down and his hand enters my field of vision, reaching for a pastry of his own. When I look up, the smile on his face is small, hopeful.
“That’s okay,” he concedes.
“So, how are things?”
⸻
“What does getting to know each other even mean? It’s been weeks,” Jungwoo gripes, looking up from the article he’s proofing. The lock beeps and as if Woo conjured him, there’s Johnny crowding the doorframe.
“You couldn’t have worse timing,” I warn, but he just drops his bag on top of Woo’s and tosses his thick cardigan at me before plopping down on my right.
“What’d I miss?” He asks no one in particular before I feel his nose in my hair. I take this moment to bring the sweater up to my nose, relishing in the feeling his scent brings me.
“Oh we were just discussing how you two are just getting to know each other,” Jungwoo drawls on the last part, probably hurt he thinks something is going on in my life that he doesn’t know about, “and what exactly it entails.”
“Ah, well, this pretty much,” Johnny answers unfazed.
“But you know what her slick tastes like,” Jungwoo accuses.
“Jungwoo,” Jaehyun and I both berate but it’s Jaehyun’s tone that stops his line of questioning. Though Johnny is the oldest and Jungwoo runs The Quill like the navy, Jaehyun acts as our little group’s leader and moral compass.
“I promise Woo, when something changes, you’ll be the first to know,” Johnny consoles him, “Jae can you order something? I’m starving.” He slides my laptop onto his lap and changes the subject, “can I read?” I nod, he’s always welcome to but he never forgets to ask anyway.
I scoot closer and lean into his side to read the piece along with him, to better hear his comments over Jaehyun’s music, to better memorize every single layer of his scent. Even when he’s done commenting and pulls his own laptop out to work we stay like this. Even when the food comes we stay like this. Even when I lock eyes with Jaehyun hours later and he smiles softly at me, we stay like this.
⸻
“You look really terrible,” Jaehyun comments, and each word pulses on the inside of my head. I don’t answer, just lean into him closer, desperately seeking a bit of relief from within the fibers of his clothes.
“When did you last see Johnny?” Jungwoo interrupts, more pulsing. I flinch a little from the pain.
“Johnny? Why?” It feels like an eternity, our schedules have been so busy. I don’t miss the look that passes between them but the pressure in my head prevents me from saying anything.
“‘Cmon, let’s get you some rest,” Jaehyun breathes, “do you want me to carry you?”
“No,” yes.
I’m sure it’s the longest walk recorded in history, and I don’t recognize the building or the door or the code, but as soon as the scent from inside hits me, I know I’m home.
I don’t hear what Jaehyun says, and I don’t know where I’m going, but I stumble into the room and collapse into stone and off white bedding, a sense of peace wrapping around me, lulling me.
For the first time in ages the headache subsides, and I sleep.
The door opening gets my attention, somewhere inside of me, but it isn’t until the fluffy comforter is pulled off of me and I pull my limbs in for warmth that I open my eyes and see Johnny.
“Why are you in my room?,” my words come out almost slurred, dreamlike. Maybe he’s in my dream. I’m so glad he is, “you’re so pretty, I missed you.”
“This is my room,” he reasons and pulls his hoodie over his head and tosses it on the back of his desk chair, his scent is conflicting, and it makes me burrow back into the bedding to make it go away.
His room.
Johnny & I, we’re usually sharper when we’re together, but realizing I’m in his room where his scent is pressing into me from all sides I feel anything but. Here he doesn’t curb his scent to maintain professionalism, to not bait omegas. Within these walls is Johnny’s scent in its purest form. With every inhale I uncover a new layer: the stress of exams, the satisfaction of having me in here, the lust neither of us acknowledge that follows us everywhere hanging in the air, and it’s the sweetest note of all.
Chocolate, coffee, trees, cinnamon mixing together painting the ultimate picture of comfort. A comfort I wish I co-
“Sunshine?” Jaehyun’s words float into my brain and while I hear the concern in his voice, I can’t seem to pay it any mind.
“Mm?” is all I can manage.
“Feeling okay?” I’ve never felt better in all my life.
“What happened? You said she was sick,” I was.
“I’m fine,” my voice comes out muffled because I wont look up at either of them.
“Lets, um, let me walk you home,” Johnny starts.
“Can I stay?” I don’t want to leave.
“NO” they both snap, leaving no room for discussion.
“Fine,” lazily I climb out of the bed. On my way to the door I pluck the hoodie Johnny was wearing off his desk chair and slip myself into it.
“Bye, Jae,” I walk in between them both and out the door, expecting Johnny to follow.
The night air entering my lungs feels like an invasion, tearing the serenity I was suspended in from the inside out. Chills form on my arm thinking about what it would be like to sleep there, to wake up there, to have Johnny’s scent to myself straight from the source. The semester is eating away at our sanity, at our freetime. Since our majors are so different it’s tugged at our bond but once a week the four of us meet for dinner, and Johnny and I meet whenever we can manage. We hadn’t managed in so long.
“Are you listening?” Johnny tugs on his hoodie.
“No,” I beam up at him. He scans my face and brings his hand up to it, instinctively I lean into his palm. His touch feels so good a purr erupts from my chest at the same time his finger touches my canine that I didn’t even realize had made an appearance.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” yes yes yes.
“For food, you pervert,” he chuckles and pushes off, walking ahead of me down the path. The freezing wind I’m breathing in and the distance from his scent give me a reprieve, a chance to get my bearings. We walk like this for a while, and little by little I come down from the high of whatever Johnny’s room did to me. When he turns away from the path that leads us to my apartment I jog a few paces to catch up to him.
“Where are we going?”
“I was thinking we could eat out,” his tone is cautious.
“Johnny, no,” we haven’t eaten out together since that late night plate of nachos we shared with Jaehyun.
“Why?” He inquires, tone still soft, like he’s reasoning with a small child.
“You know why,” Winter, the message boards.
“What are you afraid of?” I stop walking altogether and let his words slap me in the face.
What am I afraid of? It’s been weeks and though things aren’t back to normal, I’ve come to cherish my new routine. I love sneaking into Jaehyun’s studio in my black clothes and a baseball hat I took from Johnny that I never plan on giving back. Getting to know Johnny without the weight of anyone’s judgement has been a treasure I want to keep mining day by day.
Gingerly, he pulls my hand out of the sleeve of his hoodie, to his lips, and kisses me in the center of my palm, “I’ll be right there with you, whether things turn out fine or not.”
⸻
“Do you want anything specific?” He asks as I slide into the booth on the far side of the town's best restaurant which is also our best bar and best hangout spot. It’s a really small town.
“Surprise me,” I grin, and I maneuver myself out of his hoodie. Even in the dead of winter this place would be hotter than a tropical vacation, not that I’ve ever been on one. Now that whatever spell I was under has started to sputter out, I’m starving.
Like clockwork, before I can get too comfortable, the universe shows up to remind me of my place. My favorite girl from my least favorite clique is talking to Johnny at the bar and then looks over at me. She nods at him enthusiastically and starts heading my way.
“Chaewon, hi,” I utter. I’m never fully happy to see her, because while I like her, she’s never alone.
“Hi, um. I, uh- Karina’s meeting me here after my shift ends,” she blurts out, a nervous edge to her fresh coconut scent. She’s warning me.
“Should I be scared?” I say, keeping my tone light and my guard up.
“Not of me, but I can’t speak for her. Not that she’ll do anything except text Winter, and you know how that’ll end up,” she rattles.
“Okay.”
“I like you, and I kind of love that you’re with Johnny, so I just wanted you to know. My shift ends in 30, I gotta get back,” she points at the kitchen with her head and takes a few steps backward before turning around, crossing paths with Johnny on his way to the table. He doesn’t sit down, instead he stands where Chaewon did, with a patient smile on his face.
“Do you wanna take the food to go? We can eat it in the practice room, it’s close,” he suggests.
Despite the noise of our finest restaurant bar lounge combo, despite finding something adjacent to friendship with the friend of the girl who has it out for me, and despite the very real fear I have about what Winter is really capable of, I tap my hand on the table top and tell Johnny that I’d like to stay.
⸻
Just ask her.
But How do you ask a person to the most important event of your life to listen to a piece you wrote for them?
Hey, I know we’re just getting to know each other, but is there any chance you have a ball gown and want to come watch me serenade you in front of all my future employers and everyone we know?
It doesn’t necessarily roll off the tongue.
And then there’s the other thing, the small fact that I haven’t actually told her I like her or that my piece is about her. About us. About how she makes me feel. How I hope I make her feel. How now that I’ve tasted it I can’t live without the color she brings into my world. How this push and pull we’re doing feels like a dance, and more importantly, it feels like a dance we’ve done before.
Before my practice room, before this life even. This feels bigger, fated.
I can’t decide if this is the perfect moment or the absolute worst to ask her to come to the showcase. On the one hand, tonight is the first time we’ve ever been out in public together alone and she was so brave to stay. I don’t care what anyone says on some message board I didn’t even know existed until Jungwoo showed Jae & I the morning after the party, but she’s been weaving her way through this bullshit her whole presented life. I want to be sensitive to that.
But I really want her with me, and I don’t mean just at the showcase.
I mean always. No matter who’s watching.
I take a breath to steady my heartbeat. Now or never.
“Are you busy on the twenty-ninth?” She shrugs, not even looking up from her plate. Mouth full, she wipes her hands on her napkin before pulling her phone out of her bag. Of course, her calendar. She doesn’t respond to anything without consulting it first.
“Why?” She’s scrolling to the date, eyes still on the tiny screen.
“My piece. I’m-uh-performing it, and I wanted to invite you to come see,” a smile so small anyone else might’ve missed it starts to tug on one side of her lips.
“You’re nervous,” she says, and the smile overtakes her whole face as she locks her phone and sets it face down on the table, “afraid I’ll say no?”
I might be more afraid you’ll say yes.
“Afraid isn’t the word I’d use,” I reason.
“I thought senior performances weren’t for another month,” she tries a change of topic, picking her chopsticks back up to keep picking at the spread.
“This is a private performance,” one that determines the rest of my life.
“Just for me?” She pops a piece of food into her mouth and raises an eyebrow.
“Would you come if it was?” I raise an eyebrow too, because we both know the answer to that is no. She thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s been avoiding the practice room since the piano incident. I understand, but it’s cut down the time we can spend together drastically. I can only do so much without my piano, so we’ve just been meeting wherever we can to exchange our scents like some drug deal. She shakes her head slowly, confirming what I already knew to be true.
“Good thing it isn’t, it’s just…it’ll be the first time anyone other than me or Doyoung hyung will hear it in full, and I want you to be there,” please, put me out of my misery.
“Want me to be there?” She asks, her body language more relaxed than it’s ever been when we’re together. I’m so glad we stayed, we’re making progress. I’ve only seen this version of her with Jae or Jungwoo, when we’re all crammed into Jae’s studio laughing.
“Need you to be there,” I add playfully, using the atmosphere to my advantage.
“Because of my scent?” She narrows her eyes, interrogating me.
Jesus, this girl.
“If I say yes will that get you to come?” I parry.
“Probably,” she shrugs again, looking off to one side for emphasis. I know she’ll never turn down an opportunity to help if I ask for it.
“Then yes, it’s because I need your scent in the audience,” and everything else that comes with it.
“Fine,” she exhales and picks her phone back up, I’m assuming to add it to her neurotic calendar, probably titled Scent Swap for Johnny Showcase.
“Just one more thing,” I add and she lets her head fall to the side as if she’s annoyed but her scent remains bright and playful, “the dress code is formal,” a smug smile breaks out across her face.
“Lucky for you, I can do formal in my sleep.”
⸻
“‘Cmon, we haven’t been out in ages, don’t you miss it?” Jungwoo muses, digging through my closet as if me saying no is a part of some bit.
“Do I miss warm alcohol and sweaty wolves who hate me?,” I ask rhetorically.
“They don’t hate you,” I raise an eyebrow and cock my head to the side.
“Okay they hate you, but I don’t hate you, and plus, we aren’t going out here,” he presents me with a dress I haven’t worn since freshman year and a smile so devious anyone would be intrigued.
“Okay, I’m in.”
Once we’re over the hill I know exactly where he’s headed, “We’re going to a party with humans?”
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s perfect. No Winter, no Johnny, no wolves. Just horny college students,” he pats my thigh to ease the sourness making its way through my scent and into the car.
“How are we even going to get into a party at FBU? They’re so fucking full of themselves,” I ask not really expecting an answer, Jungwoo doesn’t go anywhere without a plan.
“A friend of mine is the host,” He turns his blinker on once we pass the sign that says Fallbrooke. I open his glove compartment to take out my favorite perfume and stickiest gloss-
“You bitch,” I hiss, pulling out the lukewarm ice that had to have been there all afternoon. I finish the bottle as Jungwoo pulls into a parking spot. When I step into the night, the cold air bites all over my exposed skin, but it feels good, the drink warming me up from the inside out.
“You want your coat?” Jungwoo calls from the other side of the car.
“Yeah, please,” I stand there, with one hand on my hip and a devious smile of my own waiting for him to find the bottle I hid.
“I fucking love you,” he says before shutting the door and twisting his bottle open.
It’s gonna be such a good night.
⸻
“You’re so fucking hot,” some sweaty human slurs into my ear. I stop his hand and twist it before he lays it over my ass again, and he’s shocked by the strength. I know we’re not supposed to show off in front of humans but fuck this guy is annoying.
“Get the fuck out, man,” I hear someone call from behind me. Another human, paper white and deathly gorgeous, sends the little sleaze scurrying away. This one’s been moping in the corner opposite mine talking to an adorable supernatural, a vampire I think.
“I haven’t seen you around before, who do you know here?” He asks. I narrow my eyes and size him up, but his demeanor isn’t threatening and his scent is calm, inquisitive. Humans may not be able to smell us, but we can smell their every intention since they never learned to train their scent.
“The host,” I say, uninterested. I need to find Jungwoo, who disappeared into a closet almost an hour ago.
“That’s impossible, since I’m the host,” the corner of his mouth turns up to flash a lazy smile, but I know it’s in vain. I can smell whatever has been bothering him all night. Whoever he’s been looking for hasn’t arrived yet, since we’ve been locking eyes accidentally since I walked in.
“The other host then,” I look around, hoping to spot Woo so we can go. Home.
“Leave her alone, Sunghoon,” the supernatural calls from behind us, and immediately I knew I was right. He is a vampire, “You’re smart, observant,” he presents his hand for me to shake, “I’m Jungwon.”
⸻
Once I’m dancing with Sunghoon and Jungwon, the slurred words in my ear and heavy unwanted hands from the other party goers dissipate. Nobody dares approach me now. The drinks that follow are strong and cold, perks of actually knowing the hosts. Eyes closed and letting the music guide me, it hits me that this is the most normal I’ve felt in my entire life, to be with people who aren’t swayed by my scent, and seem unaffected by my appearance.
Until I open my eyes and notice the stares.
Unlike at FVSA, the looks intrigue me, if anything. The girls weren’t approaching Sunghoon when he was alone, but now that we’re dead center on the dance floor it’s like I’ve crossed some unspoken line, like they’re realizing for the first time they can have a turn too. I beckon Sunghoon closer with one finger and then pull his collar down so I can ask in his ear, “who are you to this place?”
Jungwon comes up behind me, I allow it because his fresh orange scent is enticing, enchanting even. I can only assume he’s beloved in every room he enters. If Jungwoo ever reappears I know they’ll get along.
“He’s just like your Johnny,” he breathes onto my neck. He said he can read minds, but I haven’t thought about Johnny since this afternoon, “there’s a difference between thinking about someone and someone being in your thoughts,” he tacks on. I can feel his lips curve right underneath my ear; he’s having fun flaunting his powers.
“You don’t get to do this often do you?” I don’t need his answer because the citrusy scent in the air spikes.
Sunghoon’s hand pulls me toward him and we’re dancing face to face, inquiry forgotten. This has to be what I’ve been missing all my life. This has to be what fun is supposed to feel like. Loose limbs and looser morals have brought the night to this moment, when Sunghoon leans down into my ear and asks the one question I’ve been manifesting since we first spoke.
“Wanna get out of here?”
⸻
“So people hate you, because you’re a little stinky? But not to this Johnny,” Sunghoon summarizes, and we all break out in laughter because at the end of the day, yes, that about covers it.
“I’m not stinky, but yeah, basically,” I correct on the tail end of my laugh.
We all came upstairs to get away from the noise and started playing uno which just turned into a q&a about vampires, wolves, and which school has the better writing program.
“Sounds like my parents,” Jungwon muses.
“Your parents are stinky?” I question, and a new round of laughter begins.
“No,” he huffs, “I mean it sounds like what you two have is not normal. That it’s special.”
“You think they’re soulmates?” Sunghoon emphasizes the last word, incredulous.
“Is that what you and the girl are?” I won't waste the opportunity to ask. I’ve been waiting for her to come up organically, but this will have to do. I’m nosey.
“What girl?” He aims to sound nonchalant, but I feel his scent change almost entirely when I bring her up.
“The girl you were looking for all night, the one you’re in a fight with,” I elaborate now that I have nothing to lose.
“I thought you said you couldn’t read minds,” he moves all his focus to his hand of cards, even though nobody has put anything down for almost an hour.
“I don’t hear you denying it,” I sing-song, looking at Jungwon for support in the matter, who is lost in his own thoughts.
“Our parent’s believe we’re all soulmates, but it’s really just town lore Jungwon’s dad created so he could find my Auntie Jay,” his scent evens out, but remains sweet at the mention of his and Jungwon’s family, “She is-”
“You said Johnny doesn’t think you’re stinky, right?” Jungwon interjects.
“Mm,” I nod.
“What does he smell like, to you?”
⸻
“What do you mean, you lost her?” My patience has been wafer thin since Jaehyun told me they were at a party with humans hours ago. Now Jungwoo’s telling me he lost her?
“She’s fine though, I would have picked up if she was in distress,” he reasons. My stomach churns because that’s somehow worse.
“We’ll find her. My friend’s here, he’s a vampire, maybe he knows something,” Jungwoo starts looking around the room as if what he said was totally normal.
“A WHAT?!”
“Jungwon. His name is Jungwon,” Jungwoo mutters as he walks off. I stay and focus on her scent, walking through the party, I feel like I’m almost retracting her steps.
Even diluted with the putrid uncontrolled stench of humans, her scent calls to my deepest desires leading me all over the first floor. I walk to this corner where her scent is the strongest, I’m assuming she spent a lot of time there. Next her scent leads me to the center of the dance floor where the notes of pine are less strong, smelling more like a spring meadow. I smell the supernatural too, Jungwon the vampire.
Now that I’m in tune to her scent, I'm both calmer and more desperate to find her. I miss her, I always miss her. My life feels like a bigger version of this party, always at her mercy. Everyday I plan around whether or not I can see her, when I can next make her smile. When I can hear the crackle of her keys through my mind, when she’ll let me into her head by reading the words she writes.
They say you can choose who you end up mated to, but this doesn’t feel like a choice. It feels like fate.
“Johnny, I-” Jungwoo calls me, at the same time my reality fractures in the worst possible way.
The growl that comes out of my chest rips through me, bringing out the worst tasting emotions I’ve ever felt. Acrid thick ribbons of pain and jealousy pour out of me and it’s the first time I’m happy to be surrounded in a room full of humans who can’t pick this up. Jungwoo’s hand on my shoulders does nothing to calm me down, and won’t do anything to stop me from following her scent.
It’s as clear as it was the day I was on my knees savoring it, praying to every god I’ve ever known that I’d get to taste it again. Canine’s out, prepared to challenge anyone that thinks they can taste what’s mine, I take the stairs two at a time to the last door on the right.
Preparing for the worst, I push open the door and there she is, sitting on the floor with her legs crossed with some human and Jungwon the vampire, who breaks the silence.
“It’s just Jungwon, actually.”
⸻
If anyone asked me I would deny it, I’m a feminist after all, but seeing Johnny like this only makes the cinnamon in my scent stronger, drives me wilder.
It didn’t help that describing Johnny’s scent to Jungwon led to what happened at the party, which led to what happened in the practice room which led to, well, this.
Can we have a moment, please?
Jungwon tugs Sunghoon’s sleeve and wordlessly, the three of us get up but I stay put as Jungwon pulls Sunghoon all the way out the door.
“That’s Johnny?” Is the last thing I hear from the other side of the door.
I can feel my heartbeat in my ears from anticipation, from knowing that my scent makes him act this way.
A minute passes and neither of us move. I think he’s trying to find a gentlemanly way to ask what’s on his mind. Little does he know I want him to pin me against the wall and fuck me against Sunghoon’s door fully clothed because he’s so desperate that undressing would take too much time. I want him to tell me I’m his, to bite into my neck right here. The pool of desire blooming in my gut makes it feel like it’s beyond want.
It’s a need.
I take the first step and his breathing only gets shallower, rougher. I wish my heels weren’t by the door so I could click my way over to him slowly. He licks his right canine and I can’t wait to do the same.
Three more steps.
Two.
One.
“Can I smell you?” He asks. Ever the gentlemen, king of conscent.
“Yeah,” I breathe out, and bare my neck.
⸻
“Wake up,” the beautiful bright citrus scent is a little sour from the hangover, but still, I smile as I peel my eyes open to find Jungwon way too close and way more awake than any person should be, “come with me.”
I follow him out of his sister’s room where I slept, down the stairs, and into a room that definitely shouldn’t be in a college student’s home.
“How rich are you guys,” I ask in awe as I take in the intricate details of the room and how many leather bound volumes line the walls.
“My dad is the president of the school,” he admits. President of FBU?
“You’re Jeno Lee’s son?!” I hiss in astonishment.
“Well, yes, but that’s not important right now, come read this,” I follow him over to a huge mahogany desk where he points at a book older than any I’ve ever seen. It might not even be able to be called a book, since it’s more or less a collection of pages of different sizes bound together by well wishes.
The word Imprinting is painted across the top of a page in delicate calligraphy.
“You brought me down here to read me a fairy tale?” I croak. I know what imprinting is, every pup does. It’s a gift from the goddess, true love guided by the moon herself. It’s said that one single soul is split and put in two separate bodies and that they are destined for each other in every lifetime, regardless of presentation. Imprinting to us is what Cinderella is to humans.
He moves some of the pages around to show names and dates, symptoms, “are these medical records?” I lean down to read, interest piqued.
“My dad says all folklore is rooted in fact,” Jungwon whispers as he brings another page to the top of the stack.
“You think Johnny and I-” I trail off, gesturing to the mess of fragile ancient papers.
Jungwon nods gravely.
What the fuck.
⸻
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper to the stale air in my favorite room on campus. While the music hall is one of the most decadent buildings on campus, the library is the oldest. Filled to the brim with history, it was wandering the stacks one day that I climbed up a small flight of stairs and found it. Secluded, barely furnished, and with a huge window facing the forest, it became my second home over the years. It feels like the room found me, meant to be my safe space, my solace.
I never imagined Johnny would be a part of this place, be someone who provides me with comfort. Be essential to it. Since the party, I’ve been trying to understand what Jungwon told me, what imprinting on someone really means. Part of me feels like I’m living a fairy tale, like this is the Moon Goddess’s personal apology to me, for what I’ve been through. The rest of me has been drowning in my insecurities, knowing that Johnny would never have chosen me if it wasn’t for divine interference.
I close my assignment and open a document I’ve been too scared to type in. I wish there was a way to know if Johnny and I fit without our chemical bond. If we’re just edging ourselves and once I let him in, the spell will break. I look up from my screen and see Johnny with that wrinkle in the middle of his eyebrows looking down at the mess of manuscript paper with a fountain pen in his right hand and his left tapping the table trying to figure out the right notes to commit to memory. To see his mastery up close is a privilege I don’t ever take for granted. I look back to my screen, take a deep breath, and begin.
Faintly, I notice Johnny turn the lights up. Bring me water, Hand me a hair tie he keeps on his wrist because I’m always leaving them everywhere and never remember to pick them up. It doesn’t stop me, though, I keep typing.
What does stop me is the thick cloud of lust that swirls around me. I don’t know what I expected to see when my eyes rise from the document and meet Johnny’s. I didn’t expect to see his face cradled in his hands, watching me.
“I like you,” is all he says. Not a drop of hesitation or deceit in his scent, just the lust and a deep adoration I can’t escape.
Not that I would ever want to.
The scared rejected pup in me wants to ask why, wants him to list everything he likes about me on a piece of paper drenched in his scent, wants him to trace what he wants from me along my body with his tongue.
The strings that tie us, invisible but unbreakable, are pulled taught in this moment, wondering what I’ll do next. A few lines from what I’ve written join the slurry of emotions I’m drowning in.
What if this isn’t our first lifetime together, what if we’ve fallen in love over and over, bite after bite, and this is just the next chapter in our never ending story?
What if you’ve been mine hundreds of times?
The pheromones in the air are heavy with want, but his body language doesn’t show signs of tension. He’s in control, always has been. Even the night in Sunghoon’s room, I know he would have killed for me, but it was how delicately he scented me that shifted things between us.
Where before being alone meant that our instincts took over, that night he picked me up with so much care and walked us both into the bathroom for more privacy. When he placed me on the counter and I looked into his eyes there was no fire behind them, only gratitude that we were this close again.
When he took my face in one of his hands and rubbed his thumb across my cheek a new feeling started weaving into my scent. When his nose met the crook of my neck he took his time, appreciating every note.
It took me weeks to label the feeling, to understand why he didn’t bite into me then and there. The scenting wasn’t oppressive, but it was intentional. One lick at time, he brought us back to earth, and eventually back down to the party where we all got along a little too well, promising to see each other once exams are over.
Those same pheromones have surrounded me since that night, along with tiny little gestures that have shown me he likes me. I didn't say anything at the moment, just started typing again and eventually he got back to his music, but when we exited the library and he put his coat around my shoulders I grabbed his hand and held it in both of mine and even through the size disparity it still felt right.
A cloud forms around the words I hope he’s been dying to hear, “I like you too.”
⸻
A knock pulls me from my sleep and I peek to see that my alarm hasn’t gone off yet. I pad over to the door and open to find Johnny with breakfast in one hand and coffee in the other. A sleepy smile pulls at the edge of my lips and I open the door wider for him to come inside.
“Happy performance day,” I croak, rubbing one of my eyes awake, “let me just-” I start to walk back to my room to put pants on, since I’m just wearing a sleep shirt. His shirt.
“If you’re gonna say change, please don’t. As a gift,” he interrupts and starts to make his way to sit at the bar.
“Who’s the pervert now,” I chuckle.
“Me, and I’m okay with that,” I tug the corner of his jacket, redirecting him to the couch.
He plops onto the sofa after taking his coat off. Without a second thought, I climb into his lap, legs over his, and lay my head in the crook of his neck. With my body still laden with sleep and my scent unmitigated by my anxieties and blockers I figured this would help him the most, since he’s here before the sun is and he reeks of stress.
His body is stiff, and a nervous edge leaks into his scent, “this is…intimate,” he confesses.
“Wanna help, does this help?” I’m too tired for games.
“It helps something,” he insinuates, but his scent doesn’t shift so I know he’s joking.
“Johnny,” I scold with no fire behind it. It works, because he wraps an arm around my waist to keep me in place as he settles in and then his scent evens out, softens.
“It helps,” he whispers into my hair.
As I drift back to sleep, I have enough awareness to etch this moment into the myriad of memories the last few weeks have brought. These small displays of intimacy that are void of the sexual tension that seems to plague us whenever we’re alone. It’s moments like this that bring me back to this very room that night when Jungwoo asked me to give Johnny a chance. Moments that have led me to trust him, to want more with him.
Tonight.
Tonight we’ll have more. For now we have this, and that’s more than enough.
⸻
“I’ve never been to this before, nobody from The Quill has ever been invited,” Jungwoo whispers, fascination evident in his tone as we walk up the steps to the music building. There aren’t signs that say not to talk, but the decadence in the lobby calls for our best behavior. White florals with green accents drape off of tabletops and in vases placed around the room. Votives on the cocktail tables add to the elevated vibe. Guests sip champagne out of crystal flutes.
“Woo, should we be here?” I say under my breath while my eyes bounce from one attendee to another, noting that even the other students in attendance are doing their best to blend in.
“We were invited, weren’t we?” His eyes are alight with mischief as he leads us over to the coat check. Underneath my black coat I’m wearing a midnight blue satin dress with straps that tie into bows on the tops of my shoulders that I had made in town just for the occasion.
“I feel so out of place,” I mumble so only Jungwoo can hear.
“You’ve been to countless events just like this, fancier than this even,” he encourages before adding, “We’ll find Jae soon, everything is going to be alright.”
At the door to a small concert hall an usher hands us each a program and another at the top of the row leads us to our seats. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding when see Jae already in his seat waiting for us.
“Jae, thank god,” I grab the hand closest to me, “what is this?” Johnny invited me, but other than the dress code he didn’t give me any other details. I didn’t even know this room existed, it’s not on any of the campus maps I’ve ever seen.
“The future,” he begins, “for whatever waits beyond graduation.” I follow Jae’s eyes and spot the director of The Royal Ballet talking to the lead conductor of the New York Philharmonic.
“Money, too. Some of our biggest donors are here,” Jungwoo tacks on as he points at the front row where Professor Kim is talking to a donor I’ve spoken to myself at an event for the paper, “they’ve come to see what they’ve paid for, I guess.”
“Is our boy doing okay?” Jungwoo leans over to ask Jaehyun as the lights flicker and the remaining guests filter in from the lobby to find their seats.
“Haven’t seen him all week,” he looks at me, “have you?”
“He stopped by in the morning,” I reply, not really paying attention to either of them.
“This morning?” He asks, a little too loud for the atmosphere. I nod to confirm but don’t bother replying as people start to settle in. Johnny was right, this performance is private, intimate. Rustling around us pulls my focus from the rich glossy mahogany stage and thick green velvet curtains to guests pulling out dossiers and placing them on their lap pens in hand, waiting for the performances to begin.
This feels less like a showcase and more like an auction, the student’s here are going to go to the highest bidder.
The lights fade and the room plummets into darkness. I can feel the anticipation in the room, from in front of the curtain and behind it. Johnny has been working himself ragged making sure everything is perfect, and if last year’s piece is anything to go off of, this new piece is going to be ethereal.
No announcements to turn off our phones, no introductions, no platitudes thanking the faculty or the donors or highlighting each student’s time here. My breathing is shallow and I’m just sitting here in a tight dress hoping Johnny can feel me rooting for him from wherever he is backstage.
Ballerinas, opera singers, contemporary dancers, and a cellist preview their work one after the other. The boys were right about one thing though, this is about the future. Rather than cheers and standing ovations, the space between performances is filled with the scribble of pens and the shuffling of papers, whispers of plans to be made or rejection letters to be drafted.
When the grand piano is rolled onto the stage the amount of people with a dossier open in the audience doubles. They’re all here to see him, to hear whatever he’s prepared. The anticipation in the room is palpable when Johnny walks on stage, each footstep heard until he takes his seat on the bench.
Underneath a perfectly pressed black suit jacket is a black shirt with a tie the same satin blue as my dress, cut from the same cloth. I asked the seamstress if she had enough fabric to make a tie, and I gave it to him this morning before he left. I wanted him to have my scent as close to him as possible under the circumstances. A smile tugs at my lips and I can’t deny the deep satisfaction that blooms in my scent from knowing that in this pivotal moment in his career, we are connected in this small way.
“I can smell that, you know,” Jungwoo whispers. I know he can, but I don’t care. My hands are shaking and my program is wrinkled in my grasp. Johnny raises the fallboard and scans the crowd until our eyes lock, and it lights a fire inside me. This feels intimate, like I’m on the precipice of something bigger than coming to listen to a performance. Suddenly, I’m back in his practice room and he’s standing in between my legs and…that’s when I realize his gaze hasn’t moved from mine. If anything his eyes have sharpened, like he knows what I’m thinking about and he’s right there with me.
Good Luck I mouth.
My breath is rattling and I’m riddled with anticipation to hear what he’s come up with. I feel like we both take in the same breath and then he’s off.
It’s exactly what I expected from Johnny, measured, delicate. Until it isn’t. A slurry of notes startles the audience, notes that work but in an unsustainable way when suddenly the tempo changes, again. If last year I was entranced by his piece this year, knowing him, knowing what we’ve been through, I’m immersed in his composition.
This feels like it’s for me, about us.
Somewhere in my head I wonder what the others hear, what they’re filling their dossiers with. Because I’m not even sure of what I’m listening to, but I do know what I see.
I see his face in the mirror when he smelled me for the first time in his practice room all those moons ago.
I taste the alcohol on his tongue from the shots we took at the party in the bathroom in between labored breaths before Jaehyun found us.
I hear him admitting to me that he was scared too before he scented me.
I see him watching me work at the library, head in his hands, lust in the air, choosing that moment to vocalize that he likes me.
I feel his restraint when he found me at Jungwon’s party and not taking me then and there in Sunghoon’s bedroom.
In between all these memories I pick up on this sense of nostalgia, like we’ve been here before.
Like I’ve heard this before.
Like this isn’t the first time we’ve fallen in love.
Because we are, in love.
My eyes go from the edge of the piano where I sat legs open to Johnny’s fingers gliding across the keys so expertly. I drag my vision up his arms, along his neck, to his perfect pouty lips, parting slightly just for me. The slope of his nose, and the little wrinkle in between his eyes when the music is flowing through him. Being able to watch Johnny play is a privilege I’ve deprived myself of this entire term, but sitting here, breath running ragged and tears streaming down my face I know I want to watch him play for as long as he’ll allow it.
The piece reaches its crescendo and it’s just as unpredictable as the rest of the piece but incredibly delicate. It’s then I notice he doesn’t even have sheet music in front of him.
He’s playing this by memory.
When his eyes find mine and he plays the final notes to me directly, I can taste the tension between us. Everything that’s happened since the moment we met has been leading up to this. His undying affection, his endless patience.
He won’t need his patience for much longer.
Unlike the rest of the performances, the room erupts into applause and before the bow, he slides his hand down his tie. To others it looks like he’s straightening up, preparing to bow, but then he looks at me again, raising one eyebrow. In question.
“What the fuck was that?” Jungwoo exhales beside me.
The piece was-
It was-
“Here,” I blink and see a handkerchief in my field of vision but ignore it as people simmer down from the preview concluding. I don’t hear what’s next, I can’t hear anything other than my heartbeat in my ears.
I can’t regulate my breaths, control my scent, or come back into my body.
He wrote that piece about us-
“Sunshine are you-,” I hear Jaehyun but can’t get a handle on the end of his question.
It’s so fucking hot in here.
I have to get it together.
Johnny is mid bow when I realize what’s happening, and without explanation or any goodbyes I rush out of the building and into the night.
⸻
“Please? I can smell how bad you want it.” I feel a bead of spit trail down my chest and between my breasts from how sloppy he’s being with the scenting tonight. He barely made it through the door before he picked me up onto the piano, like the first time we did this.
I knew he would find me.
He runs his teeth along my scent gland and my hips buck into his bulge, my underwear translucent at this point from how wet I am, my expensive dress bunched up around my waist.
Why am I holding back?
A growl rips through Johnny’s chest at the contact and his hands grip my hair, tugging harshly, forcing me to bare my throat more. I feel a single canine run along my neck as his scent grows darker, more possessive.
“You think you can just run away from me after I bared my heart to you in this dress and not let me have a taste?” His tone is menacing, pushing me to grind deeper into his lap, looking for any kind of friction.
“Johnny, we can’t.” Not here. He makes his way up to my ear and bites down, cracking right through my resolve, my sanity. I feel a drop of blood forming, but he licks it before it has the chance to fall, sealing the small wound while simultaneously depositing his pheromones directly into my body. The moan I let out isn’t something I could have foreseen or been able to control. I’m running almost entirely on instinct. Almost.
He takes half a step back and the look on his face is the last thing I was prepared to see. His chest is heaving, eyes are glassy, and his lips are red and swollen from biting himself instead of me.
“Please,” he implores. He’s been so good following all my stupid rules, he deserves this.
I deserve this.
“Okay.”
His hands let my hair go and I groan from the change in pressure. He threads his hands back through and massages my scalp, apologizing in his own way for any pain he caused me. Even in this state his alpha is making sure I’m taken care of. Once he’s satisfied, his hands slide down my body and pause when they reach my waist. He pulls me forward so I’m right at the edge of the piano before he reaches in for the waistband of my panties, “up.”
I listen, picking myself up enough for him to pull them off. His eyes don’t leave mine when he kneels down as he drags my soaking underwear down my legs. My eyes only leave his to watch him fold the panties carefully and tucks them in his coat pocket, saving them for a rainy day.
He spreads my legs again and starts kissing up my right leg, and right before he reaches the top he starts at the bottom of the left. He’s teasing me with kisses and small nips on either thigh and it’s irritating me that he begged for this and now he’s playing with me.
“It’s not nice to play with your food,” I pant.
“Wasn’t going for nice,” he teases, and then dives in. I’m grateful all these rooms are sound proof because the moan I let out and the relief that laces its way into my scent is palpable.
It’s just as sloppy as I hoped he would be, and when his nose hits my clit for the first time it feels like a shock courses through my entire body. He notices, and he does it again and again until he doesn’t.
He’s playing with me again, but I need more, so I scoot further off the piano chasing more friction. Still, it’s not enough and I know Johnny can smell the desperation in my scent because he moves his hands to pick both of my legs up and place my feet on his shoulders before grabbing onto my waist again.
Seeing the king of the school on his knees in front of me with his head leaning against my thigh and his face glossy with my slick is heady. He starts back slowly, lapping my slick, placing soft kisses intermittently.
“Use me,” he whispers before he sucks on my clit gently and pulls me closer to him, “take what you need,” his tongue lolls and looks up at me, urging me with the undiluted lust in his scent.
Timidly, I test his resistance and roll my hips along his tongue. He’s like a wall, and when his nose bumps my clit again I grind into his face reflexively. I hear the growl rip through his chest and into my pussy and the vibration that courses through me only drives me to rock into him harder, forming a rhythm as I start to chase the feeling that’s blooming from my core.
In an effort to help, he tugs me closer and I fall back on the piano.
“Let me in,” in?
The new angle only pushes me further along; I start fucking myself onto his face in earnest. Since he walked through the door he's been edging me, but this time the knot of pleasure that’s been sitting in my stomach starts to spread.
“Please,” please what?
I’m pressing on his shoulders with my legs as leverage, but Johnny remains in his place. I imagine what that strength could look like in a bedroom and start to move faster, lost in the possibilities. He moans into my pussy as my movements get more erratic and when his nails dig into my legs to pull me closer still. My scent cracks, and I lose myself in the moment, in him.
“Open the door, please,” Acidity slices through Johnny’s scent and into my lungs. My face scrunches from the invasion.
What’s happening?
Someone banging on the door forces me to close my legs, to push Johnny off of me. Only he isn’t there. I pry my eyes open just as a ripple of pain carves its way through me.
The showcase, Johnny, fuck.
My heat.
I can practically taste the agony Johnny is in from being on the other side of the door. It hurts so much. I don’t know what I’ll do if I let him in. I called the heat clinic on campus and they won't have a space for me until tomorrow night, I just have to make it until then.
Another wave of pain rolls through me and I whimper into the hardwood, feet away from the entrance to my apartment. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I barely shut the door before I collapsed and started crying.
“I’ll break this fucking door off it’s hinges if that’s what it takes, don’t try me.” His words feel like they’re licking me, forming goosebumps everywhere, lighting me on fire as I let them seep into my body.
“Zero six AH-” I groan. The pleasure was short lived and the crippling pain is back, “two two.”
The door beeps and immediately Johnny drops to his knees next to me and scoops me into his arms. His scent is a cool balm that puts out the worst of the pain. I’m sobbing from the relief but it isn’t enough, I need more, I need to be closer. I lean back and bring my hair to one side and let my head fall.
“Are you-” his eyes widen in alarm at the implication.
“Please, it hurts so bad,” I don’t try to hide the desperate edge to my scent, I need him to know how bad I want this. Need this.
Each drag of Johnny’s tongue lulls me into a dreamlike state, calm washing over me for the first time in hours. I purr into and burrow deeper into his lap. This is enough.
For now.
⸻
“I’m telling you I want this, and you’re not listening,” I look up at him from where I’m seated in between his legs. He runs his fingers through my hair and it emboldens me, so I lick the outline of his cock over his slacks and don't stop until I kiss his belt buckle. The groan he lets out makes my entire body tingle.
“You can’t consent like this, I won’t do that to you,” he grits. I can smell how close he is to cracking, how bad he wants this, too.
“Please,” I pout at him, “tonight was our night, isn’t me telling you that enough?”
“How can I possibly be sure of that?” The tenor in his voice is strained, he wants to believe me.
New strategy.
Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, I stand up and instead of walking away and showering like I should, I spin around and make eye contact with him in my vanity, and sit on his lap.
With only the sound of our breaths guiding me, I pull the dress upward, not quite intending to take it off, but to show him all the proof he needs.
“See?” I spread my legs as far as the fabric will allow and see his eyes narrow when he sees my bare pussy spread out, glistening from the slick, ready for him. I grind myself into his lap, lining myself with his cock and he groans, his head falling into the crook of my neck.
Just give up, Johnny.
“I said no,” he grits out, but I feel his resolve disintegrating each roll of my hips.
I grab his hands and drag them along my body, needing any kind of friction, even if I have to do it myself. Slowly I move myself and his hands anywhere he’ll let them go, pliant, but not gripping me of his own volition.
“Look at me, at least,” I plead. When our eyes meet in the mirror he finds the end of one of the bows on my shoulder in between my teeth. I tug, and the left side of my dress falls. Before he can react, I slide his hand over my breast, his callused hands sliding over my nipple and for a fraction of a second his control falters when I feel a slight grip.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes out, defeated, but his eyes are more focused than I’ve ever seen.
I do the same with the bow holding the other side of my dress up and there sitting on the edge of my bed facing my vanity with my dress pooled around my middle, through labored breaths and with no help from Johnny, I come.
⸻
The sobs coming from the other side of the door tug at my heart until I crack the door open and see her scrunched up on the floor of her shower with the water cold as ice, eyes screwed shut.
Gingerly I place my head on her hand, she’s freezing. I turn the water off and pick her up, unzipping the dress and peeling it off of her.
“Can you stand up for me, hm?” I pick her arm up and kiss the inside of her wrist, hoping my scent can calm her some so I can get her dressed. She says on her feet long enough to slip on a shirt I’ve been looking for for weeks but her knees buckle.
I catch and carry her over to her bed and lay her where I was just laying myself, depositing as much of my scent as I could. The internet said it would help, but that nothing would provide relief like a knot could.
She sighs into the pillow, and I watch her closely as she falls into a fitful rest.
⸻
The pain wakes me, even though I’m clean and wearing Johnny’s clothes it’s not enough. Without reaching out to check, I know Johnny isn’t in the room with me. Gathering the little strength I have I get out of bed and follow his scent back into the living room.
Asleep soundly on the couch, my instincts drive me to climb on top of him and nuzzle myself into the warmth only he can provide me with.
“You see this seems a little rapey,” he mumbles, half asleep.
“You left me alone,” I negate the accusation.
“I was being honorable,” he sits up and with me straddling him, I burrow into his neck to scent myself all over again with less restriction, long shameless drags do little to soothe me but I don’t stop.
“The honorable thing to do during your omega’s heat is to stay by her,” I whine, “sleep with me, please?”
“My omega, huh?” I don’t answer because he stands up and carries me back to my bedroom where engulfed in his scent and in an entanglement of limbs the pain subsides enough to let me sleep.
⸻
“Jae, I’m worried about her, she’s so warm,” beyond burning, actually. I keep changing the towel on her forehead because of how little it does to bring her temperature down, “how can I fix it?”
“You know what you can do to fix it,” Jungwoo’s voice comes onto the call. They must be together.
“Jungwoo,” Jae scolds, “he’s right tho, Johnny,” he agrees begrudgingly.
“Mom, please, I miss you, can I please come home?” She cries from her place next to me but doesn't wake up. I flinch knowing they both heard that.
“Is she talking about her mother?” Jungwoo's voice is loud, shock evident.
“Yeah, um. She shuffles between crying, having flashbacks, and being insufferably horny,” I explain to Jae, “what do you usually do to help her, Woo?”
Silence.
“We normally just buy food and watch a lot of tv, dude. Heats are more of a vacation for us, this hasn’t happened. Ever,” Jungwoo whispers, afraid of betraying his best friend’s trust.
“You can scent her into sleep if it’s really that bad,” Jaehyun suggests, concern evident in his voice.
“Is that right to do?” My eyebrows knit together as tears stream down her face and her features arrange in agony from the pain.
“If it helps she said you two were gonna smash after the preview,” Jungwoo offers.
“She told us she wasn’t wearing any underwear,” Jaehyun adds.
“I don’t think this is about consent, I just don’t want our story to start like this,” I whisper more to myself than to anyone else.
Jungwoo starts making barf noises into my ear.
“She’s in pain, Johnny. Help her. Romance can wait, this can’t,” he ends the call before I can respond or Jaehyun can intervene.
“Please, daddy. I need my family,” she chokes out.
I take my shirt off and pull her into me, hoping that for the moment, this helps enough.
⸻
“Can you sit up? This isn’t working,” just scenting isn’t enough anymore. I need more of everything, and he isn’t helping.
Like a predator stalking their next meal, I watch as Johnny untangles himself from me and sits against my headboard. His chest is riddled with marks, some that I don’t even remember making, and I feel a deep satisfaction lacing through my blood, ending with me clenching around nothing which pisses me off.
“Alpha-,” it was the wrong thing to say because what hits me next is raw dominance, the coffee notes in his scent intertwine with the chocolate in a way that calls to my deepest instincts. I settle onto his length, frustratingly covered with pajama bottoms but soaked through from me constantly rubbing myself onto him.
“I’m not giving up our firsts to this.” The finality in his tone cracks into me and fills me with desire. A fresh wave of slick gush out of me, giving me leeway to slide more fluidly along his ruined pajama bottoms. End to tip over and over, but it’s still not enough.
“But we already kissed, you already scented me,” I place my hands on either side of his face and try to steal even one kiss but even now he’s stronger than me, turning away with ease.
“No,” no matter how weak his resolve gets, his tone is firm.
“You tasted my slick, and now you’re covered in it and you’re still saying no?”
“That’s right,” he grits each word out, and I relish the fresh plume of chocolate that wraps its way around my naked body, keeping me warm.
“What if you just put the tip in?” I’m beyond begging, I’m bargaining, imploring him to do something, to touch me.
“Stop. Asking.” What hits me next is the closest thing to surrender I’ve gotten, the most emotion he’s shown. The moan I let out when I feel the full weight of his dominance dance around me and make its way into my lungs is so loud and full of want.
With my blood heavy with want and my heart full of defiance from being ignored in my most vulnerable moments, I pull his waistband down and plop my sopping core onto him, both of us hissing from the contact.
“Fuck, you’ll pay for this,” that tone, his alpha on full display, canines fully out. For a moment we both are just staring at each other, breathing heavily and relishing in the warmth of my juices covering him, finally.
I lift myself off a tiny bit, manifesting that he’ll finally give in, when he grips my waist and grinds me into his lap. I squeeze my eyes shut from how much different this feels, skin on skin. His skin. His hands.
“So brave right now,” he chuckles, “we’ll see how brave you are when I stuff every inch into you when this is over,” My breaths are more shallow, I grab onto his arms for stability, seeking more friction as I slide myself harder, faster.
“You can stuff me now, right now, please,” I squeeze my legs tighter around his body, hoping he’s imagining how tight I am. How I was born ready, just for him.
“When I finally have you, I’m going to make sure you memorize every inch,” I start to feel the base of his dick expand and I slide over it slowly at first, testing its firmness.
It’s a knot.
“Every stroke,” Johnny continues, lost in his own pleasure for once.
“Every lick,” his tongue slides over one of his canines, the grip on my waist tightening, surely going to leave a mark.
“Every bite,” I fall forward, into his neck, and in the heat of the moment I run a canine of my own along his scent gland harder than any omega should. The unbridled want that wraps around me gives me the courage to ask.
“Johnny I- can I?” The knot is rising, providing an overwhelming pressure on my clit each time I slide over it. I feel breathless, knowing I’m doing this to him.
“Yes,” yes, I can make him mine, for all to see.
We go on like this: slick, saliva, grips, and groans until in a stroke like any other Johnny’s knot presses on my clit just right and in the unmitigated bliss of my orgasm I bite down.
The blood rushing into my mouth, warm and metallic only makes me convulse on his cock harder, and it’s there within that surrender and squeezing that Johnny finds a release of his own. For the first time in my life, from any heat, ever, I don’t just feel the pain lull momentarily. I feel my omega truly satiated, calm, happy, safe.
A mess of ragged breaths and fluids, we both relish in the silence and satisfaction of finally letting go, in our own way. I’m rising and falling with every breath he’s taking, lapping up his blood, sealing the wound one long drag of my tongue at a time, “sorry about this,” I murmur in between licks.
“Don’t even worry about it,” his voice should be softened in the aftermath but it’s acidic from not being able to touch me. He brings his mouth up against my ear so even in the thick of my heat each syllable resonates, “I’m gonna snap you in half when this heat breaks.”
I lean back, face bloody and hair mussed, I smirk at him hoping he’s serious before I ask,
“Promise?”
⸻
The first thing I notice is Johnny’s scent, the second is clicks from a keyboard. I open my eyes and see Johnny sitting against my headboard, glasses on, and typing away at his laptop in his lap. He looks so relaxed, comfortable, dreamlike.
It’s when my eyes reach his neck and I see the crescent moons marring his perfect skin that I remember everything.
“Good morning,” he breaks through my thoughts before I can spiral too hard, and I cover myself with my comforter, a fresh one, void of the intensity of my heat. It’s when I notice I’m also clean and dry, he’s taken care of everything.
I hear him shut the laptop and put it on the nightstand before continuing, “Not so brave now, are we?”
I feel him get out of the bed and immediately my body reacts, “don’t leave me.”
The bed dips again and without pulling the cover back, he leans down and whispers, “I’m never leaving you. But I am getting us food. I’ll be back.”
A kiss on my covered head seeps through the cotton duvet and into my blood, where it warms me up from the inside out.
Before he comes back, before I say anything else to him, I have to text Woo.
⸻
Fortunately for me: my heat broke just in time to start studying for exams.
Unfortunately for me: my heat broke just in time to start studying for exams.
And then there’s the fact that Mr. Gonna Snap You In Half When This Heat Breaks hasn’t lived up to anything, and it’s making my skin crawl.
“Come with me,” he conspires. I’m finishing a piece for The Quill while he gets ready to sleep. In his bed, in his clothes, and yet, he won’t let me sit on his cock.
Maybe I am defective.
“You’ll be gone less than a day,” I reason, determined to finish the piece before I close this computer.
“We could stay overnight,” he muses. I stop typing.
“Why, so you can watch me sleep and not touch me?” I ask as he walks past me and into the bathroom before answering.
“That was one time,” he whines. Whatever. I shut the computer and lay down. I’ll finish the piece tomorrow.
Since my heat it feels like we’ve swapped places, like suddenly he’s the one who’s afraid of me and I’m the one waiting patiently. I don’t know how to make him see that I was ready for the next step before the showcase, that the feelings we have for each other articulated in his piece are the reason why my heat triggered.
Jungwoo says I’m in my head about it, that he’s under a lot of pressure to choose where he’s going to end up next year and to give him space. Space I can do. What I can’t do is whatever is going on now. Over the last few weeks we’ve woven what’s left of our lives closer together. I meet him anywhere he wants now, and I haven’t looked at the message boards once. We touch, but it’s not enough.
I know he can feel how annoyed I am, smell how desperate I am for him to touch me, non-platonically, I just can’t understand why he’s holding back . Much too much time later I feel him slip under the covers and pull me into him.
“You’ll come though?” He whispers into my hair, his breath tickling my ear.
“Of course I’ll come,” I concede, but refuse to relax into his embrace.
I really hope I do come. And soon.
⸻
Jae: How are things?
Sunshine: Awful, horrible.
Jae: So you love it?
Sunshine: A bit. I *don’t* love that your best friend is allergic to my coochie though
Jae: patience.
Sunshine disliked “patience.”
Jae: enjoy the ride
Does he think he’s being funny?
I pick up a fresh wave of nerves rolling off of Johnny. I drop my phone onto the bed and walk over to comfort him. You would think after the reaction to his piece these places wouldn’t have him jumping through hoops like this. He’s been chained to this desk since we got back from breakfast. I step behind him and slide my hands down his chest, lean in, and plant a kiss on his neck.
“You don’t have to do that,” he responds, sounding calmer already.
“I want to help,” I let a little bit of my scent waft around us both.
“You’re so much more to me than your scent, you know that right?” He places his hands over mine and squeezes. His reassurance is misplaced, I don’t need it anymore. There used to be this little voice in the back of my mind, from my past and because of the stuff Jungwon told me about our bond, but it’s gone now.
Jungwon, Sunghoon, and I have kept in touch, and I’ve learned more about imprinting, now knowing that it isn’t as cut and dry as I first thought. That you can more or less live without your fated mate, if you really wanted to. That in this day and age the bonds aren’t as strong as they were in those delicate papers we sifted through. That even if you are fated, it’s up to the wolves to foster the connections.
“Yeah, I know,” I admit, “I heard the piece.”
The sun is high in the sky when he clears the desk for my shift of preparations, of studying. His interview clothes are more casual than I expected, a soft beige sweater and black pants. His nerves have completely simmered out by the time he has to leave.
“Good luck,” I murmur, kissing the inside of his wrists to deposit my scent there and wait with the door open and a smile in case he looks back before getting in the elevator.
He does.
⸻
The interview must have gone terribly.
He wont talk about it, but he’s been getting more nervous since he got back. We’ve spent the day all over this city exploring, and while I’ve tried to be sensitive to what’s going on, I’ve been losing myself in the atmosphere.
This place is perfect. It’s not big and loud like New York, but there are bars and restaurants, plural, and a suspicious amount of publishing houses. I know we came here for Johnny, but this city is calling to me.
“So how do you like it?” He asks, the nerves back in full effect.
“Nothing tops Delight, but it’s fine,” I’m a loyalist, no matter how delicious my dessert is, I’m not betraying home.
“Not the cake, this,” he adds the last bit quieter than before, cautious. He spreads his arms out and does one single spin. He means the city.
“It’s lovely,” I admit. My honesty is the biggest thing that’s shifted since my heat. The way he responded to everything I was going though made me feel safer than I’ve ever felt in my life. His nervous calls to Jae and Woo, the soft reassurances that he’s there, that he won’t leave, that it’s okay. His fingers threading through my hair to wash it or dry it or the failed attempt at a braid. When I reached my peak and he found a way to give me the relief I wanted more than anything but maintain the boundaries he himself set.
He’s better than me, because if I was in his shoes I would have knotted him on the first night.
Somewhere in my haze a switch flipped in my mind, and I didn’t feel the need to hide anymore. Not from my feelings, from the vain bitches on campus, or from him.
“It went well,” is all he says.
“Then what’s with the nerves,” I press, “do you not want it?”
“No I do, I want it so bad, I just,” he takes a moment to himself, to find his words, “I want to make sure you want it, too.”
The nerves were for me.
I move to stand in front of him, with the darkness of night in this magical city all around us, the quiet of our walk, and pull him down by the collar. I kiss him on the corner of his lips before breathing my answer into his mouth,
“I do. Want it.”
The shift in his scent, the look in his eyes, and the speed of his breaths. I’ve been waiting for this.
He’s about to make good on his promise.
⸻
I expected him to be playful, hungry, mean even, a punishment for what I put us through not just during my heat but before then. For running from him for months, for fighting him every step of the way.
Instead, he’s savoring everything. Each kiss feels like a brand, searing its way down and into my body wherever he places his lips, pressing his scent into me, from all angles, intentionally.
My dress was the first thing to go, then his clothes. Each piece peeled off of each other as if we were unwrapping our favorite chocolate. Unlike any other time we’ve done this, or approached this, we both know there won’t be any stopping, any interruption.
“Ca-” he whispers from his place on his knees in front of me. Seeing him like this is all I’ve thought about since Jaehyun told us what he did in the practice room after I left.
“Shut up, please. Yes. Yes. Blanket yes. Please, just,” I pant out each word and lift one of my legs to throw over his shoulder, my patience is gone. I need this, now.
The silence in the room is thick, and when he leans I can feel each breath he takes. I card my fingers through his hair and lift my hips off the door as I bring his mouth onto me.
Finally.
He’s diving into me over and over, slower and sloppier than anything my mind could have come up with. His nose is hitting my clit with each drag of his tongue, but never staying long enough for it to mean something. He’s winding me up so much I barely register the pain from hitting my head on the door.
“Johnny,” I lace my fingers through his hair and hold him still so I can find a bit of friction. He groans into me and pulls me closer which only makes everything more slippery from the fresh wave of slick that comes out. When I finally find the right angle I moan into the room and feel his scent grow darker, deeper.
It’s enough to take me to the brink, a single lick away, but he backs up a bit and I look down and focus enough to watch a string of slick connect us, before he turns his head and bites into my thigh.
The pain I expect never comes, but what does is an insurmountable wave of pleasure from having him inside of me if only in this small way. The bite takes everything out of my lungs, leaving me no choice but to inhale the possessive pheromones coming out of him in waves. When the air hits the wound and I feel the first drag of Johnny closing it, depositing his scent directly into my blood I come, untouched.
I rest my body against the door, and try and catch my breath but that only makes me weaker, bringing his pheromones deeper into my lungs, coursing through my blood with each lick as he seals his bite.
I run my fingers through his hair and he looks up at me: on his knees, face covered in a mixture of blood and slick, canines out, and a look in his eyes that would scare me coming from anyone else. It lights a fire inside me, seeing him like this, feeling his desire coursing through my veins. I tighten my grip near his scalp and pull him back with all the force I can find.
If he wants to play games, then it’s games we’ll play.
⸻
This is why we needed to wait, because this is exactly what I wanted to see. Her dropping to her knees, face to face with my bare cock, radiating a confidence she’s only shown me in tiny glimpses.
I needed it to be this way, to find a moment without any of the factors she thinks play a part in why we’re together, in what got us to this moment where she’s dragging her tongue along my veins from base to tip, mapping out how she’s going to fit it in her mouth.
I needed to bring her here, to show her that we fit together with or without the noise of campus. Without those girls that don’t have enough going on in their own lives, without the pressure of assignments and swapping scents in the predawn light, without the disguises she thinks helped conceal her when she would hide in Jaehyun’s studio, we still fit.
I’ll spend my entire life burning her insecurities down one at a time if it means more nights like this, because while tonight is our first, we both know it’s nowhere near going to be our last.
The warmth of her mouth wraps around my head and she looks up at me with her eyes wide, bringing her hands up to aid her, sliding up and down my shaft easily thanks to her own slick.
“Yes, good. So good,” her pressure falters when she takes me a little bit deeper, she hums in response to the praise and the shock of pleasure that shoots up my back makes me throw my head back.
“Just a little more, can you take a little more for me?” I bring my hand up to her face to tuck her hair behind her ear. She looks so perfect like this, the perfect omega. She swallows and the change in pressure blurs my vision out a bit.
Just a little bit more. I just need a little bit more.
Watery eyes meet mine and when I feel the resistance in the back of her throat give and she squeezes me inside, down her throat. Her name falls from my lips over and over, praising her, caressing her head, when a single black tear makes its way down her face.
I let go of her head, giving her the room to pull off whenever she needs, the choice to stop this.
But she doesn’t. She pushes on.
⸻
I might die here, but the burn from the lack of air and the look in his eyes urges me to press my face down his shaft until my nose is rubbing against him.
“Fuck, yes,” I’m gagging and I’m wishing I put on waterproof mascara because I’m positive black lines are making their way down my face. The lightheadedness from earlier is back but in a new way, my vision blurring out around the edges and it’s getting easier to stay still, to gag less.
I hum around him, I hope he’s satisfied.
The pain in my head is the first thing I feel, followed by the burn of having his head drag its way back out of my mouth. Fresh air.
Breathe.
I only register that he joins me on the ground because of the warmth, because of the change in his scent, the spike of concern. The slight rattle in his touch. He pulls me into his lap and even though I’m fighting to gather a full breath without coughing, my scent blooms with satisfaction.
I win.
“You did so good, baby,” he soothes over my heaves and coughs and the spit and tears streaming down my face, “you’re perfect.”
He wipes a tear away just as it falls before he takes my face in both his hands and starts kissing me all over, continuing to praise me wordlessly.
“You wanna sleep?” Safe. I feel safe. So safe.
“No,” I shake my head and sputter the next few words, “I want you to snap me in half.”
I don’t register what he says, but feel my limbs lift off the ground and land on the bed. My head is still groggy and my throat feels so tender, the burn in my chest simmering out the more air I breathe, the more of his scent I get inside of me.
Feeling him all around me like this, it’s intoxicating. Everything I see, hear, feel, and taste is Johnny. Is us together, in this. His fingers make their way into my folds but I reach down and bring his hand back up, lacing our fingers together.
“That’s enough waiting, don’t you think?” The air around us is so thick with possession and desire that I take a deep steadying breath to adjust.
During my heat I could only slide on his shaft as much as he allowed, even in my dissociation I knew he wasn’t going to do anything. Now I’m here, splayed open, tear stained face meets his covered in blood that’s dark from drying up around his mouth, and I know this is it.
He rubs his cock in my slit, colder than I expected because of my saliva, and any fear I thought I would feel doesn’t show up, only unbridled lust blooms into my scent. He drops down to kiss me: it’s long, messy, and the metallic taste reminds me of my heat, of the tiny marks that outline his scent gland.
“Will you tell me if I hurt you?” He whispers.
“Probably not,” I breathe into his mouth and lift the corner of my mouth in an attempt to smile.
When he lines up with my entrance I expect it to rip me open from the resistance my body is giving him.
“Let me in, baby. Relax,” he pleads, releasing his scent in full force because there are notes I’ve never felt before. Desperation, impatience, and something else I can’t place but it works. I feel the resistance give way, and the next thing that overtakes my senses is an intense pressure.
A growl leaves Johnny’s chest and when the vibrations travel into my body the sensation is so intense it feels like I might black out. Slow and steady, he presses into me, kissing me, whispering how good I’m doing, how perfect I am, how I was made for him, how he’ll never let me go.
He doesn’t ask me if I’m ready for him to move, but he knows the exact moment I’m ready and it’s a new kind of pleasure, of pressure.
It’s slow and measured until it’s not, until he’s dropping his hips fully onto me with each stroke, heavy breaths the only signal that we’re both alive. Covered in slick and sweat I wait for him to flip me around, to throw me against a wall, to bite me and mate me and change both our fates permanently.
But he doesn’t do that.
He’s looking into my eyes, gaze attentively and electric, pulling out to the tip and dropping back into me, over and over. The pheromones in the room get darker the longer he goes, the limper my limbs feel. He’s thrusting his way deeper into my identity, as if he’s trying to erase people who were never there.
For me, it’s only ever been him. It’ll only ever be him.
“A knot,” it’s the first words he’s spoken in an eternity. He isn’t asking, his tone as steady as his strokes. Some warning.
If the pressure from before was a lot, this stretch is unbearable. The only consolation is trusting that Johnny will respond to whatever signal my body sends.
The first falter in his rhythm gives me new life, waking up something in me I can’t begin to understand at this moment. His thrusts get shallower, he’s pushing the knot further into me, a little at a time.
I hook my other leg over him and grind myself into him where his strokes allow, beckoning him deeper still.
He doesn’t ask me if I’m okay, he doesn’t need to. The room is filled only with our breaths, moans, and sticky from the mix of pheromones, slick, and sweat.
It’s when he reaches down and digs his hand into his bite and the atmosphere seeps into my blood again that the knot presses into the bundle of nerves inside me that I lose focus.
The final stroke feels like we’re both jumping off of a cliff. The fullness of the knot locking in place, of him spilling into me pushes me past the brink and my convulsions only drives the knot deeper into me. I feel like we might not ever be able to come apart, and that’s okay with me.
⸻
“Hello house,” I whisper into the living room while Johnny takes my bags into my bedroom. A single letter lays on my floor, which is weird because mail in this day and age is so rare.
“Are you hungry?” Johnny calls from the bathroom as I slide my finger under the seal. The emblem on the top of the page knocks the breath out of my lungs.
The piece I wrote the day I met Johnny. It feels like a lifetime ago, when I submitted this application. I didn’t even tell Jungwoo about it, it was such a long shot. They don’t even take students in my year.
Usually.
Congratulations!
After reviewing your portfolio and credentials, we are pleased to offer you a position at the Fallbrooke University creative writing fellowship in Okayama, Japan.
Please look over the included materials and inform us of your decision at your earliest convenience, but no later than the end of your term at the Fallbrooke Valley School for the Arts.
We look forward to collaborating with you and the other young minds accepted.
Best,
Jeno Lee
President, Fallbrooke University
