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nobodyeverasked · 2 years

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begin again; johnny seo

(10,742 words) - large

summary ➣ Y/N and his ex-boyfriend, Johnny, thought they were finished after their break-up. However, they meet again for the first time since splitting at Y/N’s graduation party, and they begin to think that the love between them isn’t as beyond saving as they thought.

genre ➣ fluff ( + angst )

requested - 👍 by @xavi-in-kpopland

.・゜-: ✧ :- .・゜-: ✧ :- -: ✧ :-゜・. -: ✧ :-゜・．

Y/N trapped a runaway sigh in his locker as he fastened it shut, tugging at the waistband of the jeans his boyfriend, Johnny lent to him as they made their way out of his bedroom. Johnny would always advocate that his jeans hung around Y/N’s waistline in the most perfect ways, in ways that would lead Johnny to fail miserably at holding himself back from keeping his hands on Y/N’s hips. All of Y/N’s whines about how they always sat a little lower than he wanted would be cut off by deep, sickly sweet kisses that would burn Y/N from the inside out - light him up until he implodes like a star.

Those kisses would always lead them back to Johnny’s bed, the pants that sparked their debates on how beautifully they danced along Y/N’s waist, the only thing left clinging for dear life on Y/N’s body as they’d make themselves far more than five minutes late for their first class’ bell.

With every time Y/N walked into Johnny’s house, crossed the thresholds of all the doorframes they’d press each other up against, Y/N realized with a smile that he always left with more of Johnny’s clothes on him than his own. He laughed about it even now, as he fixed his textbooks under his arm and felt the thick waves of his - Johnny’s, rather - hoodie’s fabric submerged him for a split second. The feeling of Johnny’s clothes of him, swathing the silhouette Johnny would carve into the night skies with his teasingly gentle caresses, it was not comforting and exhilarating, a bittersweet thrill that left him craving for more. Shadows of his clothes would still ghost his skin, as well as the fires set alight against him as Johnny would help him peel them off, then bring Y/N’s hands up to do the same for him.

Y/N didn’t notice how long he was staring vacantly at the peeling blue paint of his locker until he felt arms wind and curl around him, sweep him off his feet and leave him stifling a yelp into the neck of his assailant. He felt his pulse leap beyond the emptiness of the school’s hallway as he breathed in the cologne hung from their neck like a necklace, one that’s enveloped so many of their memories, memories both clear as daylight and blurred as the moonlight’s haze. It was Johnny, who was always pulled in by Y/N’s irresistible gravity no matter how late they were for their first period’s class.

“Hey, love.” Johnny’s hands slipped into the back pockets of the jeans he lent Y/N, his favourite pair to see draped against Y/N’s waist. With a little squeeze, he brought Y/N onto his toes, craning his neck to meet Johnny’s lips halfway.

Even now, as what the school’s general populace considered the ‘highschool sweethearts’ - the idealist’s dream of the forthright, loveably arrogant football player and the guy he’s head over heels for - they used such visceral, intimate language for each other as if they already have the ings to prove their forever intertwined futures. ‘Love’, ‘baby’, all their claims of being forever intertwined; things like that never left their tongues, even when they were between each other’s teeth by the sunlit bleachers or on the bed in the corner of Johnny’s room.

“Sorry, I know we split up as we left the car, but I just can’t resist you.” Johnny mumbled into Y/N’s shoulder, bringing his hands up to wrap around Y/N’s waist.

Sometimes, with the way they spoke to each other, it took a minute for Y/N to digest it all and spit it back up to give Johnny more than a tangle of flustered half-words. Every heavy vow of adoration, dense and sweet and lingering goodbye in the middle of hallways that would part entire crowds, all the ways that they seemed to spin their own stories in the silence of everyone else and gained so much attention with all their public affections, Y/N needed to bite it all back at points. He loved Johnny, Johnny loved him - well, at least in terms of what they assumed or thought love was at their age - sometimes, though the thrills and the sparks and all the energy and fire that followed each and every one of their minutes together became less like a rush and more like something Y/N needed to catch up with.

Sometimes Johnny would wait for him to catch up, and other times Johnny would leave Y/N in that figurative dust, wondering if he could take everything that Johnny was giving him, doing with him, or if he’d burst at his seams.

Those were very few times, though, as all the excitement that bubbled beneath his skin, just waiting for Johnny’s whispers against his ear as they walked down hallways, calls to him from across the football field during his practices, or times he’d sneak up behind Y/N and tie their fingers together, was always waiting for Johnny.

“Can you resist me for like, a couple hours please? We really need to head to class.” Y/N wondered as he stared into Johnny’s eyes - sparkling like the city lights they’d sometimes be able to catch on the horizon whenever Johnny would drive them out to the edge of town - how he became the person he is now. The person who’s won the love of the most popular guy in school, the person who everyone loves or hates, wants to be or wants to be with. He would only be able to question his place in Johnny’s arms for so long, though, before Johnny would hold him tighter, kiss his cheeks as if he knew, and claim that he’ll never let go. “I swear, if I’m late for one more history class, the teacher’s gonna literally have my head.”

“What you’re asking me is literally impossible.” As much as Johnny loved to have Y/N in his arms, and despite how many times Johnny’s kept Y/N beyond curfew, school bells, sunrises, Johnny couldn’t help but finally give in to the silent plea in Y/N’s eyes. “Fine~” Johnny relented, loosening his grip on Y/N only the slightest bit, still holding back every single one of his urges to press Y/N up against these lockers and steal his soft, gentle words from under his tongue. “You’re lucky I'm a good boyfriend who wants to see you graduate.”

“Ah, yes.” Y/N smiled at Johnny’s pout, but he knew that raising himself up to kiss it away would only lead to further disaster. “Thank you, Johnny, for allowing me to go to my classes in order to graduate this year.”

“You’re welcome, my dear, I deem you worthy of graduating.” Johnny wanted to let out a chuckle, thinking about how this last year of highschool is only just going to be a small step in the grander scheme of their haphazardly laid out lives. However, he couldn’t help but feel his casual sarcastic drawl wilt and hitch a little bit, as he remembered how far away Y/N was going to be - heading to a different college than him after they graduate.

They only have so long within walking distance of each other, only so many days left until Johnny can’t just swing by Y/N’s house and spend their nights cuddling in the back seat of his car. Days standing in Y/N’s backyard, being there to hold Y/N by his waist as he taught him out to sneak out his back window for the first time, their regular snack raids at gas stations and nights with Y/N in Johnny’s arms as they chatted up Johnny’s football teammates by the plaza by the school, couldn’t simply be at their disposal, right at their intertwined fingers anymore.

It scared them, both of them, how far away they would be from each other. How much would they change in the flickers of time they would usually be spending with each other. How about when those flickers of time would fold out into weeks, months, perhaps? They didn’t want to think about it, they wanted to live here, now, where they ruled the kingdom of this suburb and this school from the thrones that were Johnny’s car seats and the toppled trees they’d perch themselves on to watch the night sky from the town’s edges.

They want none of this to change, they want everything between them to stay the same for as long as it can.

“I still can’t believe we’re gonna be graduating in a few weeks, though.” Johnny caught Y/N by his fingertips before they could finally split up and head to their classes half an hour late. They’ve had this conversation countless times; whether their gentle, cautious words into each other’s skin be lit by the sunrises they couldn’t sleep through or sunsets they held in each other’s hands, these conversations led them toward the same tied up emotions. Being people of the present, grasping fully onto the seconds they had right in front of them and nothing more, the future worried them more than they wanted to admit. “It feels like we just got together, and now we’re gonna be cities away from each other.”

“It’s not like we’re gonna die.” Y/N squeezed Johnny’s hand, moving back within arm’s reach and letting Johnny curl his arms around him once more. This was the side of Johnny that nobody ever saw - the tremble beneath the sun’s light, the waver in the moonlight’s gravity - nobody in this school really took the time to know Johnny - the star quarterback, legend and myth among the school. This was the side Y/N knew best, though, the side that needed a type of comfort and warmth that only Y/N could give him, the side that ran out of breath after running away from the days so quickly. “I’m always gonna be with you, Johnny. It’s just college, and it’s just a few cities, it’ll just take me a little bit longer than a flash to get to you.”

Looking back at when they first locked eyes at one of Johnny’s football games - Y/N dragged against his will by friends he doesn’t have anymore to catch ‘the hot dudes doing sports’ - Y/N never knew how far that smile Johnny flashed him in the middle of their game could have really taken them. Turns out, what seemed like a coincidence, a lucky strike of being in Johnny’s line of sight at the right time, took them farther than he ever thought.

What’s a little bit longer, a little bit further? They weren’t going to stop at being the resident high school sweethearts that burned out the moment they swung the doors of real life wide open. They were going to be more than what anyone thought they could be.

“Johnny…” Y/N tried to catch Johnny’s eyes in his, wincing at the thought he could see writhing within them. “Babe.”

Y/N’s voice caught Johnny’s attention, and he looked down to see Y/N shine a small smile - the one that Y/N returned to him that day on the football field, and the one that made Johnny realize that he didn’t stand a chance. He brought Y/N in closer, tipped his chin up and tied their lips together. “I know, I’m worrying for nothing. College isn’t going to change us, it’s only going to make this - you - that much more special to me.”

“See? There’s nothing to stress about, and there’s nothing that can separate us.” Y/N ran his hands down Johnny’s arms, nudging Johnny’s nose with his own and grinning as a smile finally began to bloom on Johnny’s lips. “I want to see that smile for four more years. After we get our degrees we can be miserable.”

“God, you talk so sexy…” It took everything for Johnny not to kiss Y/N one more time, knowing that if he got started on the sunlight that Y/N held between his teeth, he knew he couldn’t stop until second period. He just caressed Y/N’s cheeks, tucked a lock of hair behind his ear to get a better look at those wondrous, shimmering eyes, and thought about how they’d be waiting for him after they graduate, on the other side of train station doors and subway stops and halfway points between their colleges. They’ll spin gold out of whatever straw they’re given, Johnny’s sure. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

For some reason, as Y/N draped himself from Johnny’s neck in a long, solemn hug, this moment - this smattering of split seconds as they looked into each other’s eyes and rounded their respective corners to head to their halfway-done classes - was already starting to feel like a goodbye to all the things they’ve known, all the things they’ve said they can’t live without.

A goodbye they are far from ready for…

Y/N was back at his parent’s house after four years away at college, trying not to feel too suffocated by the sheer mass of people that piled up in his living room and kitchen - people who have come to celebrate his graduation, his survival of one of life’s greatest, most unthinkably formidable challenges. Granted, it was by the skin of his teeth and thanks to an unhealthy daily regimen of caffeine intake, but it was survival nonetheless - survival on Y/N’s terms, at least, as much on his terms as he could manage.

However, those four years that seemed to fly by so impossibly quick - fleeting blinks that left Y/N with flickers of exhaustion and gratifications - yet seemed to last so long and overstay their welcome, were behind him now. He’s graduated, he’s managed to change by the whim of the world he’s finally caught up to, or at least likes to think he’s caught up to, and he’s overcome so much that’s required him to peel away from old habits that would’ve left him lost if he wasn’t force to mature and adapt.

So much has changed, and Y/N could still feel the aches and stings of the growing pains that came along with each and every thing that shifted inside of him. The absences, the new presences, the way all the things Y/N’s come back to after so long feel so differently under his hands now - the breeze’s softness, the edges of his petals one of his favourite people used to scatter in his hair as if they were the only people in the world, the colours in the sky that would stain his fingertips - everything just felt so different now. Part of Y/N was thankful for that, but another part, one that lingered deep in the crevices of Y/N’s heart, longed for things to be simpler again.

Y/N was alone in the corner of the living room, straying away from the clangour of all the pre-party festivities that were going on by his house’s main entryway, and staring out his old bay window. It was a place that housed all his childlike thoughts, akin to a second home that was within his first one. He could still remember when he was small enough to fit on the small cushioned seat nestled at the base of the window, and he remembered when he wasn’t too big to be yanked by his waist and pulled between his old love’s legs as he’d squeeze into the bay window’s seat and claim that Y/N’s eyes had all the stars he needed - the only windows to the outside world he’d ever need to look into.

All of Johnny’s precious words, all of his heavy and careless touches, all the time they spent together, all the time they wasted promising each other, and all the memories that still take up so much room in Y/N’s head… It was all nothing now, all cast into the wind, scattered in faded memories across the distance between them - not just physical anymore. Even the way they simply seemed to phase out of each other’s lives after the first and last college party they attended together, it was all a smudged, incoherent mess that Y/N couldn’t make sense of, even now, three years after it happened.

It took all of Y/N to not let out a sigh of defeat as he looked out to the cars among his driveway and saw the only one that he knew would never be here, at his house’s curb, ever again. He wants to train his eye on nothing in particular, just stare at the spaces between the cars and catch nothing but empty pavement and neatly trimmed grass. However, he can’t help but look at the spaces between the cars without thinking about Johnny’s filling up one of them.

The same car that’s housed many of his sleepless nights, the same car whose back seats probably still have the scorch marks from when he and Johnny burned through each other upon the town’s borders. He hasn’t seen it since Johnny peeled away in a stupor after an argument that left them both scared, wounded and marred in blood they never thought they’d be able to spill. Whenever he's taken into a back seat to take care of unfinished business after parties, whenever his friends swing by his apartment to pick him up and practically drag him into the car, using their arms around Y/N’s waist as his seatbelt, the thought of Johnny picking him up all the way back in high school, his knight in shining varsity jacket, loomed over him ever-so-briefly until he noticed it was there.

“Hey.” Y/N startled to attention, caught out of his reflective daze, as someone jumped onto the couch next to them and looped their arm around Y/N’s. By the gentle brightness in their voice, Y/N could already recognize who it was; the person who always knew how Y/N was feeling, who always knew just when to come to Y/N’s aid, who was a place of comfort in a time where Y/N didn’t really know what things like ease really meant. “You’re missing all the before-party fun! Even your aunts are pre-gaming with us.”

It was his friend, Taeyong. Once they were passerbys at a random on-campus party, sharing nothing but solidarity for their academic struggles and one too many drinks; now, they were brothers in arms, who shared late nights painfully sober over textbooks and flickering lamplight, splurging on late night snacks to keep them conscious for the sunrises they would make sure to catch together at the top of Taeyong’s apartment building. During school, they were suffering and cynical and exhausted beyond belief, but they had each other - Taeyong’s affinity for holding hands when he’s tipsy and Y/N’s terrible jokes. What more could they want?

A semi-stable sleep schedule, perhaps. But they knew only six months in that wanting that was nothing but wishful thinking.

“Sorry…” Y/N trailed off, and looking over into Taeyong’s inviting eyes and annoyingly patient and sweet smile, Y/N knew that he couldn’t just get away from Taeyong without getting anything and everything off his chest. “It’s just… I thought coming back here would be a relief, but instead, I’m getting shit-loads of memories that I thought I moved on from already - ones that I’d rather not keep.” Y/N didn’t realize until now, how sporadically he’s become overridden and overwhelmed, by these memories of Johnny - the beginning of their end, and what began from their ending - that have been left to scatter about every inch of this town. It always seemed to come in short yet relentless bursts of regret and frustration and sadness and confusion.

The moment Y/N drove back within the city limits that he and Johnny always vowed to burst through once they grew brave enough to free themselves from what they were used to knowing, everything he and Johnny have done together, all the ways they cherished each other, came rushing back to him, submerging him, leaving him stranded for air.

All these thoughts were so suffocating, and it was as if Y/N had no choice but to relive them - he thought he had moved on, cast these thoughts away and made nothing of the so many somethings that he and Johnny were to each other.

“You mean Johnny…?” Taeyong didn’t know Johnny that well, he only heard of him in passing from his mutual friends who lived at the same frat house Johnny was in - surprisingly, never from Y/N until Taeyong finally convinced Y/N to tell him what was going on with these intense and frequent bursts of negativity he was experiencing. To see Y/N experiencing something so intense yet indefinable tore Taeyong apart. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try your best to enjoy the party tonight. It’s all about you anyways, and we’re all here because we love you and we’re proud of you.”

Upon hearing Taeyong’s words and feeling his arms wrap around Y/N’s shoulders in one of his notoriously soft, comforting embraces, Y/N couldn’t help but shine a small smile - one he can’t help but give whenever Taeyong comes to him and rips him away from whatever he finds himself myred in. Still, despite Taeyong’s advice and all the effort Y/N wants to put into enjoying this party, he also can’t help but feed into his regrets concerning Johnny, and how they’ve left him scrounging for loose moments of peace like the change he never had.

“I know, not the best of Master ‘Yong’s advice. But I really don’t want you to worry.” Taeyong tucked a few locks of Y/N’s hair behind his ear before resting his head on Y/N’s shoulder.

“I won’t.” Y/N tried to maintain a determined voice, he tried to maintain determination in general. But he could feel it wavering already. “I mean, I’ll try to, Master ‘Yong…”

“That’s all we can ask for, young Padawan.” Taeyong leaned his head up and rushed to the kitchen, coming back with two shiny red solo cups filled with whatever mix of coolers he, Jungwoo, and Mark brought in from the liquor stores by the south side of town. “Here, some ‘ale of the wise’ to get you through the night. I already know it’s gonna be a doozy.”

They tapped their glasses together and took long, indulgent swigs of their drinks, feeling that oddly satisfying mixture of bitter, sweet and richly sour echo in their throats like it always did whenever they would settle in each other’s rooms, steal each other’s clothes, and pre-game as much as they deemed ‘socially appropriate’ for the next party they would head to in order to distract themselves from midterms.

What Y/N didn’t know, however, was how true Taeyong’s statement was actually going to be, how this night - with Taeil, Jungwoo, Mark, and Haechan already ganging up on Mark in the kitchen for joining a frat house - Johnny’s frat house; Y/N’s aunts already holding second drinks in their hands; Y/N uncles bragging about their nephew graduating college to each other, not knowing that they’re talking about the same nephew; Johnny at the front of Y/N’s mind and on the tip of his cooler-soaked tongue already; and Taeyong’s arm around his shoulders, his warmth doing as much as it can to help Y/N get through the calm before the storm.

Y/N was in for one hell of a doozy.

An hour into the late evening, the sky already drained of all its light as cheap strobe lights wedged into room corners bathed the house in its own iridescent sunlight, and the tumult of Y/N’s graduation party was already thrown into full force. Crowds of people ambled about the rooms, filling up corridors in the house that Y/N didn’t know existed even after years of living here. The bass of the music spilling out of hidden speakers shook the floorboards and left this perpetual ringing in Y/N’s head as he made his way through the party - wading through rough, relentless tides of salutations, embraces, and cynical rants about the future.

Taeyong urged Y/N to enjoy the festivities, to make due with whatever smiles his friends’ antics put on his face, feel happy, accomplished, relieved and proud. For an instant, fleeting moment, Y/N thought that the cup of mixed coolers Taeyong gave him was actually going to do the trick, sweep away all his tangled thoughts and unreasonable crippling feelings under waves of cheap alcohol and shitty simulated fruit flavours.

However, Y/N could start to feel everything seeping back in, slowly at first, as Jungwoo caught Y/N around the shoulders and roped him into a conversation with Mark, Doyoung, and Jaehyun - one of Mark’s plus-ones, a guy Y/N’s seen every now and then - about the frat house he joined. And then faster, making its way through cracks Y/N didn’t even know were within himself, as Mark and Jaehyun brought up the fact that they invited as many of their frat housemates as they could to celebrate Y/N’s ‘escape from hell’.

Y/N felt his heart drop and rise to his throat all in a single second, suffocating and nearly choking on his own hitched pulse as he connected the dots thrown in his face. Johnny could be here…

So much careened through Y/N’s head in a single moment, and he was caught looking down into his half-finished cup of booze that Taeyong fixed for him, finding his murky reflection and all the purples and greens of the strobe lights that scratched, gnawed and tore against his skin. All his thoughts were pulled in every single direction, tugging Y/N in every which way of disbelief, awe, surprise, sadness, abandoned hope, until his voice was worn out before he could even speak with it.

Johnny could be here…

Jungwoo tightened his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, apparently they asked him something, they all paused for him to fill in the blanks of their conversation - something that Y/N was usually so good at doing. Y/N was at a loss for anything, though, he kept staring into the ripples of his drink, the way it sloshed against the edges of his cup and left a faint, pink smear before fading away. Johnny definitely wouldn’t come even if Mark did invite him, their ending felt so calamitous, messy, definite - yet it lingers like a promise that wasn’t fully broken, a lie that was never told. But what if he did? What if he was around one of the corners in this house, talking to his friends, to his family, any of the people Y/N spent hours raving about to anybody who was unlucky enough to listen. What if he wasn’t here, what if he chose not to be here?

Y/N didn’t know how to feel about either of the outcomes he’s scattered about in his thoughts - which one to feel more hurt by Johnny’s presence or his absence. He felt Mark nudge at his stomach to get his attention and finally snapped his head up. They were all looking at him, and what used to be a chattering crowd of just Jungwoo, Doyoung, Mark and Jaehyun grew to tehm and Taeil, Yuta, and Haechan all yelling at each other.

“Uh, yeah totally…” Y/N stumbled over himself, shaking his head, still feeling himself too heavy with the weight of his heart dragging down on him to look up into the few concerned looks that were thrown toward him. ”Sorry… Just one second.” Jungwoo’s arm around him loosened as he gathered that Y/N wanted to leave, and Y/N parted with a stiff smile, trying to find someplace even remotely quiet, somewhere to even out the thoughts that left him staggering upon unsteady ground.

Y/N shuffled through all the vibrant, LED-dyed rooms, and finally found a place in the house where the music beat against him softest. Its jabs to his head, to the rushing chaos of his thoughts were just nudges now. He nestled himself into a hallway leading up to his childhood bedroom, yet another place where he and Johnny spent so much time doing things they swore to Y/N’s parents they’d never do without leaving the door open.

Hovering under the dim, fading, yet warm glow of the hallway’s wall sconce, Y/N let his mind run and wander, already feeling a creak in the floodgates of all the things he’s been subconsciously holding back for as long as he and Johnny have been apart. Second thoughts always ruined Y/N, left him gripping onto things he thought he’d have forgotten, yet here he was, thinking about how he and Johnny ended yet another time.

“Fuck…” Y/N murmured to himself, unable to keep all of it in. He needed to expel it somehow, but all he could muster was a meek, deflated whimper toward the ceiling.

He thought he had outgrown the promises Johnny would drape of his shoulders with his varsity jacket whenever Y/N got cold during their walks through town, he thought he had made amends with all the ways he and Johnny used to hold each other as if they were the only things tethering each other to the earth.

Johnny seemed to let go, though… He seemed to grow out of it on a whim, training himself on something else the moment Y/N left his life of sight during the party where everything crashed around them. Johnny was too old for ‘this’ - what he defined their relationship as in their fight on the curbside of his frat house. Their relationship of grandeur and thrills, and quiet professions of undying love that laid beneath the surface was apparently this juvenile, worthless bundle of hopes that burned out and withered away just like everyone said it would.

Y/N didn’t want to believe it until that one last look they shared before Y/N stormed off and Johnny drove away. However, all these doubts they never knew bubbled beneath now boiled over, shone in their eyes like a piercing spotlight now that they weren’t too naïve to know otherwise.

If they were always bound toward a destiny of implosion, of shining too bright, too quickly until they collapsed in on each other… Then why did it all mean so much then? Why did Johnny mean so much to Y/N if they were nothing to each other but empty promises and a grand vision of things they couldn’t see? Kisses behind bleachers, jackets around shoulders, crushed velvet, dirty converse, wrinkled moonlight, slow mornings that never started, roughly tender kisses that made Johnny groan into Y/N’s mouth; all of it, every single thing they’ve gone through, just didn’t mean a thing, then?

They were so much - meant so much - to Y/N. He knew they meant just as much, if not more to Johnny, too. At least until Johnny seemed to so haphazardly and effortlessly tear away all the things Y/N thought made them special with nothing but a few drunken scoffs and a look of indifference upon the things they once cherished. It was almost meticulous, how Johnny managed to pick their love apart - piece by piece - a dn leave nothing left but the ignorance and ego that everyone thought they were. That’s all they were after that party, a mess of theatrics and blind faith that crashed, burned, and went up in smoke.

“Hey…”

Y/N flinched as a voice pulled him so suddenly, yet so gently out of his stupor. He looked over to the second silhouette carving itself into the hallway light’s glow and nearly lost all of his breath, all the feeling in his tightened knuckles and liquor-drenched tongue evaporating into whatever air wasn’t already swallowed up by the music behind them. The figure’s shadows danced alongside Y/N’s on the walls, swaying by the edges of Y/N’s fingertips. It was almost as if the lights around them were remembering what Y/N’s spent the better part of three years trying to forget.

It was Johnny. Johnny’s here, right in front of him, right now.

He looked so much older, yet there are parts of him that still look the same as how their summer memories left them. The light in his eye, the slight flickers in his small, timid smile, the wonders that his hands held even without holding anything, the way he seemed to carve out the strobe lights that fell against him to fit his shape, how he fit in all his clothes.

That part in Y/N that still ached for the past was sure that no matter how much they grew, Y/N would probably fit the same in any of Johnny’s clothes. And the parts in Johnny that ached to see Y/N again, that longed for him in every way imaginable, wanted to be in a place in Y/N’s life where he can see Y/N in his clothes again, fabric hanging from him in all the best ways.

Y/N’s mouth was hung open, and he nearly backed up into the small, thin table where he put his drink. He steadied himself, though, catching onto the ends of the thoughts that the sight of Johnny, a Johnny all grown up in ways he could’ve never imagined, almost made him lose track of. The silence left after Johnny’s soft, cautious, nudge of a greeting was nearly deafening; it craved to be filled with all the words that were cut short from their last fight, all the things they had yet to say and didn’t quite know how to say at the time.

But they both found themselves lost for words, and simply just staring into each other’s eyes, taking each other in.

Somehow, Y/N looked even more beautiful than the last time they left each other on good terms. He grew into all the features Johnny used to kiss, drape his lips against as the moonlight fell against them, pooled beneath their hands. His eyes seemed almost negligible, he hadn't seen them for so long. Or maybe his last memory of the shattered streetlights in Y/N’s eyes left Johnny incapable of seeing anything other than the confused sadness that riddled them on the day of their fight, the day they ended things and made this silent vow to keep away from each other - carve out the place of their hearts that they took over. He didn’t know what to make of the emotions he could see stirring behind Y/N’s eyes, and he didn’t know what to expect when he leapt at Mark’s invitation. All he knew was that he wanted to see Y/N again, to make something more of what Johnny - in all his misguidedness - made them out to be in one single moment.

“I… Hey…” Y/N finally found his voice, but it was only scraps of what it used to be. His disbelief still swept the air out from under his lungs and he couldn’t find the right words to say as they all clammered for attention in his head at the same time. All the things Y/N’s wanted to say, waited to say for so long, were knotted up inside and he found himself uselessly rambling, fidgeting with his hands. Johnny’s hands - despite his distance at the edge of the hallway - looked so close… He wondered if they felt the same, if they’d give him any comfort at all, but he abandoned that thought with a vigorous shake of his head that nearly made Johnny flinch.

Y/N didn’t know what to think, neither of them knew what to say. They didn’t know if this wasn’t turning out like they’d expected or wanted, or if this was exactly how things were supposed to go.

“It’s uhm… I’ve-”

“I know, it’s been a while.” Johnny’s words crept out into the space between them, he’s never been this nervous in front of Y/N - Y/N was always a place of security and reprieve for him - but these were different times now, times that Johnny brought on not just himself, but Y/N too. He wanted to close the space between them, even just a little bit, but he already knew he was pushing it by just being here, but standing in front of Y/N after so long without so much as a cheesy good morning text for the last three years. “I got an invite from Mark to your party, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you since.”

Only since then? That’s all Y/N could think about; how Johnny’s only been thinking since Mark tossed him a wayward invite to Y/N’s party.

Y/N’s been thinking about it for as long as they broke each other’s hearts, for as long as Johnny wasn’t a part of his daily routine, and for as long as Y/N kept checking his texts in the places where Johnny’s number was supposed to be. Johnny’s absence was a spectre that never stopped haunting him whether he knew it or not. It lingered in the sting of every vodka-stained kiss he had afterward, it was found in every corner of every back seat he was pulled into as his friends took him beyond the town, beyond the city to wherever they were going to burn down with their recklessness next. Johnny and all he meant to Y/N never left, even after he did.

Johnny had to be thinking about Y/N too, at least that’s what Y/N hoped. He hoped me meant as much to Johnny and Johnny meant to him even despite all the things that stayed burning in the air of their curbside fight.

“Why…” Y/N’s voice idled like windless sails, his words falling behind his countless, piling thoughts. He wanted to flinch as Johnny made his way further into the doorway, closer to Y/N, but he didn’t, he couldn’t no matter how badly he wanted to react. His instincts still felt as they always did, drawn toward Johnny’s gravity.

And right now, thinking about all that happened between them, Y/N fought to pull himself away; he furrowed his brow, his lips curled into a frown as he finally looked up to meet Johnny’s eyes once more. They were filled with so much stoic sadness, so much regret that Y/N was never used to seeing.

Y/N continued though, tugging his words into place. “Why’re you here? I mean- I didn’t expect that you’d come…”

Johnny sighed as Y/N trailed off, the anger in his tone fizzling out in a puff of smoke that made Johnny wince. He wanted Y/N to be angry with him, Y/N had every right to feel betrayed, hurt, bitter, enraged. To an extent, it was what Johnny deserved for how he took out all his confusion, all his desperation to fit in out on the person who always made him feel like he belonged. Y/N’s pain was a byproduct of his mistakes, and he wanted to fix all of them. “Y/N, you have every right to be angry with me. I said some pretty terrible things to you and about us, so you don’t need to-”

“I’m not trying to.” Y/N cut Johnny short, letting out a sharp sigh as he realized that even Johnny caught onto the fact that Y/N couldn’t muster the strength to be as angry as he always thought he would be if this moment ever came. All he can feel is his exhaustion, the faint echoes and hums of his pain, that pang of sadness, that deep twisted knife of longing.

In spite of all the ways Y/N wanted to feel, he just missed Johnny. He missed him so much…

“It’s just… I just didn’t expect you here, that’s all.” Y/N’s voice was a little more firm, shuffling to its feet as Y/N leaned himself against the wall, fixing Johnny in his eyes again.

“I… I know…” Johnny tried to return Y/N’s gaze, but he couldn’t help but keep his eyes shifting to the twitching in his frown, his quivering hands, the way he absently prodded at the carpeted floor with his feet. Staring in Y/N’s eyes for too long, into the recognition of the scope of Johnny’s mistakes, it was like staring in the sun to a certain extent. Usually he could handle the brilliance of Y/N’s eyes - he craved it and loved it - but now it felt like less of a shimmer and more of a sunrise’s glare. “All the things I said, though… I wanted to come here and tell you that I’m sorry for everything I said. I wish I could take it all back.”

Y/N let Johnny’s words settle in, the weight of sincerity in his eyes, the smooth breathlessness of his voice, the turmoil in his features, the restless fidgeting of his hands. He took a deep breath, wanting so badly to nod, ascent, agree to something. But he shook his head, thinking about the things he said.

‘We’re supposed to be grow ups now, but we’re still acting like fucking children.’

‘We were nothing but a childish dream, the quarterback and the guy who thought nobody saw him… We were foolish.’

‘You’re holding me back, Y/N! I can’t do shit for me when I’m thinking about you!’

‘I honestly don’t know we understood what love was…’

‘We’re all the things everybody said we were gonna be, sweethearts who burnt out too fast…’

Their entire fight and Y/N’s frightened speechlessness passed by him in a flash, his head shoved underwater for a split second. He couldn’t even remember what he said back, if he did say anything back, or if he could. But everything that Johnny said; the look in his eyes; the way he bit into his lip so hard Y/N thought the was going to sever it; and how he took all of Y/N’s drunken and frenzied shoves to his chest: ‘fuck off’ Y/N cried, ‘get the fuck away from me’ Y/N shouted. It was all so clear, so potent - he’s reliving it all over again.

“But you can’t.” Was all Y/N said, looking down to the fibres of the carpeted floor. Johnny’s words circling in his head until he felt dizzier than the drink on the side table could ever make him.

“But I can’t…”

With the way Johnny kept his eyes on Y/N’s struggle to lift his head, it was almost as if he could hear the words too. Johnny thought about everything he said, how much he regretted it, how much it hurt to see Y/N’s horrified face as he snapped everything they ever had over his knee like a flimsy twig.

Being so close to Y/N’s pain, so close he could feel it choking him up and suffocating him, it somehow made it so much more real than it already was. He was never here to see Y/N’s heart shatter into pieces he still couldn’t find - he drove away before he could see Y/N fall apart, he’s been across the state for the three years that Y/N tried so hard to rebuild normalcy in his life. But now he’s here, standing in the full force of all the things he’s done to Y/N.

He wanted to step closer, take Y/N in his arms, share his burden, do anything for Y/N’s forgiveness - anything just to see Y/N be okay… But he knew it wasn’t that easy. He hurt Y/N, and Y/N wasn’t going to be un-hurt simply because Johnny wanted it to be.

“Everything you said really hurt me, Johnny, and it’s been eating away at me for the last three years.” Y/N couldn’t pick his head all the way up, his stare fixing on the way Johnny was wringing out his hands. He could feel his voice cracking, crumbling, but he didn’t care to pick it up, he was done with feeling like he was okay, he was done pretending to be fine when the best part of him all of the sudden decided that it didn’t want to fit Y/N’s shape anymore.

“I- I know… I know.” Now it was Johnny who was scrambling. He could practically hear the scratching of Y/N’s tears against his skin as they trickled down Y/N’s chin torturously slowly, and he scrambled forward to try and wipe them away. He raised his hands to Y/N’s cheeks, already feeling the burn of his tears against his fingertips before he could even touch his face for the first time in too long. This was all Johnny’s fault… “You mean so much to me-”

“Then why did you say all that shit then!?” Y/N’s voice practically snapped in half, broke off his tongue as he tried to shrink away from Johnny’s hands, but he had nowhere to go leaned up against the wall. Johnny stepped back almost instantly, feeling powerless, guilt submerging him, drowning him, stealing his breath away as he just watched Y/N crumble, completely helpless. “Why did you find literally everything and anything to say that you know would hurt me and break us up? I loved you, and - fuck it - I still love you, Johnny! I don’t give a shit what you have to say about us ‘dying out’ and losing our spark, I still love you.”

“I know I fucked up… I fucked up so badly.” Johnny didn’t expect to make it this far, he didn’t know what to say or how to say it. How could he make what he did okay? He scrambled for anything in that moment, scrounging around in the darkness, tripping over himself for any morsel of explanation he could find under the hallways, faint, warm glow. “But I still love you, and I always loved you.” It took everything in Johnny not to reach out and take Y/N’s hands in his, and without him knowing, his hands were already reaching out for him.

“Then why…?” Y/N couldn’t find in himself to keep his voice above a shivering mumble, and as he caught Johnny’s trembling hands making their way over to him, all his pain, all his will to resist suddenly faded. He inched his hands closer, threading their fingers together, and felt his head spin as all the pent up light they had in their hands suddenly ran between them. This feeling, this palpable, real, grounded feeling of having Johnny’s hands in his, it made this situation - Johnny showing up out of the blue to atone for everything he’s done to them - a little bit easier to grasp.

Johnny was here, Johnny was here to fix things. And it wasn’t just a cruel trick of the light or the universe laughing in Y/N’s face.

Y/N felt his voice die out as he fidgeted restlessly with the spaces between Johnny’s fingers, and he didn’t exactly know what to make of how Johnny caressed the back of his hands with his thumbs. He didn’t focus on that, he tried to. He simply yearned for Johnny to fill in the silence that Y/N left, to give him some sort of explanation.

“I…” Johnny bit into his words. Y/N deserved this, a reason, a light to shine in the darkness he left Y/N to wander through alone. Even though they both have a vague idea of what Johnny’s going to say, he needs to put it out there. “I was scared and confused and frustrated. I wanted to be someone I wasn’t, and I was so used to having you around all the time that as soon as we separated for our first year I had nothing and nobody to ground me. Being young, dumb, immature and edsperate to fit in left me being an asshole to so many people I care so deeply about - my worst offense was you. It didn’t matter to me then how much I loved you, I just cared about how much I wanted to change.”

Johnny shook his head, trying to fight back the tears of sheer pain as he realized he couldn’t imagine what kind of pain he put Y/N through, how all the things he said to Y/N about their relationship that were completely false lead Y/N down paths of so much confusion and anger. He couldn’t, he didn’t, and let his guilt strangle his sharp breaths.

He continued, “I found out that changing and growing up were two different things, and as I grew up, I realized all that I lost… I just never built up the courage to talk to you, reach out to you, because of everything that I said…”

“Johnny…” Y/N squeezed Johnny’s hands, felt all Johnny’s words suspend themselves in the air between them, and let them all sink in. It was everything he’s wanted to hear for the last three years, all the blanks that he’s struggled endlessly to fill in or figure out, and all the reasons hiding in plain sight. Y/N failed to keep another weak sigh from escaping him, wedging his teeth into his lip, and he couldn’t bear to look into Johnny’s eyes as he made his way closer, bringing the knot they tied between their hands to his chest.

“But I’m different now, I promise, and I’m so, so, so sorry for everything I did to hurt you, to cause you pain and make you feel lost, confused and frustrated. I’m surrounded by new people who don’t want me to change, I’ve grown up and I’m working to fix all my mistakes.” Johnny’s voice was low now, breaking under the weight of Y/N’s silence. The thoughts careening through Y/N’s head were whipping up a whirlwind around them; pounding at their heads, the warmth between their hands, the dying light in their eyes. “I want to be everything I couldn’t be for the last three years. I really want to be in your life again.”

“I…” This moment, it was everything Y/N wanted and needed and imagined on those lonely days where he had nothing to think about but Johnny’s absence. His mind, however, caught up to him before his hitched heartbeat could, and he found himself stumbling over this hesitance that boiled within him. Yes, he wanted this, he wanted Johnny here. But now that he was, could he take it? Could he be able to mend a wound that’s torn so deeply into him, faded into scars that he once felt like he’d never be able to rid himself of? “I don’t-”

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Johnny let Y/N’s hands go, and watched with a wince as they dropped lifelessly down to Y/N’s side. He could see all the pain in Y/N’s eyes again, rushing in like high tide, gleaming at him through strobe-lit tears stumbling down his cheeks; Johnny could feel his heart tearing, his own hands ripping it apart into the pieces he snatched away from Y/N on the curbside of that damned frat house. “This was stupid. I was stupid. I can’t just come back into your life like this and expect you to say yes-”

“Johnny!” As if a spark was lit in a mere instant, Y/N caught onto Johnny’s wrist before he could fully whip around and leave. “Wait!”

They looked into each other’s eyes for the first time in what felt like so long - this conversation felt as if they were reliving the ages they’ve been apart… Y/N found the strength he kept locked away in his weak, bruised heart, and his words ringing through the hallway made Johnny freeze and turn himself back around almost instantly, bending to the will of Y/N’s gentle grip on him and the desperation in his words.

Johnny was here, he was finally here. Y/N couldn’t let him slip away this time. “Stay. Stay here.”

“Y/N…”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I still love you.” Y/N’s voice sounded more stable now, his grip was still on Johnny’s wrist, though, and he nearly felt himself flinch as Johnny’s other hand settled atop his. He tugged Johnny closer, though, and felt the burn of a slight smile begin to emerge on his lips despite what he felt, despite how his voice trickled from his mouth and laid at a pool at their feet, the sadness in his eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a curve in his lips. “You said some hurtful shit and it tore me apart, but somehow my love for you’s still floating around somewhere in my empty-ass head.”

They shared a chuckle, and Johnny took both of Y/N’s hands in his once more. “I’m sorry I didn’t come crawling back sooner… I’m really, really sorry…”

“It’s…” Y/N wanted to say that it was okay, but they both knew that it was anything but. They were alright with that for the meantime, though, not being okay or happy or perfect or alright. It was that stress to be content that left them pulled taut and nearly snapping in the first place, it was that motivation to constantly be fine that left them destroying each other, and it was that veil of ceaseless forgiveness thrown over all their issues that lead to the implosion of all Johnny’s doubts and Y/N’s insecurities. “I’m glad you came.”

They weren’t okay, they’re in pain, they’re weak and sad and frustrated; they’re angry, torn, conflicted, and on the verge of giving up on themselves, each other, and all the shit going on in their head. Yet they’re okay with that, they need to be okay with that.

“Me too…” Johnny found it in himself to match the small, crooked smile that Y/N began to shine, his own light beginning to flash from between his lips.

“So, uh…” Y/N bit into his lip again, struggling to fill in a silence that, ironically, wasn’t as stifling as the last. He forgot what smiling with Johnny could do to him, how it stung in such a blissfully bittersweet way. “Do you want a drink or something? Taeyong always seems to know where the good alcohol is.”

“I-I’m okay…” Johnny scratched at the back of his head. It seemed as if something was hanging from his tongue, words that he was uncertain of saying, and Y/N looked up, nearly startled as Johnny perked up with this brightness in his eyes. All the weight of their sadness and solemnity shoved off his shoulders for a moment. “I’ll just… Make due with whatever you have left on your lips.”

Y/N let his mouth hang open, staying wrenched ajar as another deafening fit of silence crashed into them as Johnny seemed to retrace his words and bite them back like cheap shots of vodka that brought them to all the best and worst places. Johnny could barely believe what he just said, how easily the words seemed to slip out from under his tongue, and he early staggered back at the sheer awe plastered on Y/N’s face.

This thick, suffocating feeling of remorse crept back into them. How could Johnny think they were normal, a safe space for flirting and nonchalance now that Johnny said sorry and how that they’re holding hands. He was never one for listening to the tone that a room sang, and he was always the first to pull away from anything serious back when his and Y/N’s world was nothing but the four walls of Johnny’s bedroom. Whenever there was a lull in Y/N’s hands threading through Johnny’s hair as he laid in Y/N’s lap, Johnny was always the one who would do his best to squirm away from the silence that crashed down on them; there was this need to be happy all the time, and Johnny didn’t want anything to tarnish that juvenile spark of never needing to face your problems.

Even when he forced all their childlike naivete on Y/N on that curbside fight, he, deep down, always knew that he was the one clinging onto a nostalgia they never experienced, yearning to stay rooted in this idea of never needing to grow up. And this restless clinging is what led them to where they were. All Johnny could do now was cut his deep sigh short, feeling the awkwardness in the air bite into him.

He didn’t notice, however, the way Y/N tried to stifle a smile behind bitten lips like he always did whenever Johnny said shit like that, whenever his voice lowered, burrowed beneath Y/N’s surface, and coursed through him with whatever smooth lines Johnny could think of to leave Y/N flushed and prone to tight hugs around the waist.

Johnny continued to wince at himself; however, it only lasted for so long as he finally caught onto the sheepish grin that began to timidly bloom on Y/N’s lips. As soon as it shone its flicker of light, the space between them that seemed to get only darker, brightened up in an instant. An air of faint laughter now soon embraced them, and Johnny felt this surge of bliss overcome him as Y/N’s slacked grip on his hands tightened, bringing him closer. It took everything in Johnny’s power not to stumble, stagger, feel himself go weak for the first time in the ages they’ve been apart.

“I see…” Was all that Y/N said, his voice taking on this coy, sarcastic drawl that nearly drove Johnny mad. That was all Y/N was giving him to work with!?

Johnny could feel a furious blush begin to flood his skin, sink into him in a way he’s never felt before. He was always the one who would get Y/N like this, and he never thought that would change - hands slipping into Y/N’s back pocket, sweet, hushed murmurs into Y/N’s ear, always finding a way to bring Y/N closer to him until they collided - he was the one who was supposed to send Y/N careening for the dark, starlit, suburban skies. But things have changed, he didn’t know what to expect anymore, and Y/N was now paying it forward in a way that left Johnny craving more.

He wished he liked change when change needed him most, when Y/N needed him most. But now he's here. Y/N wants him here, and the space between them is getting smaller and smaller. A slight nudge, a tip of the chin, a whisper into Y/N’s mouth, and they’d be back where they started, back to a beginning they never wanted to end.

“You see, huh?” Johnny could feel his voice settling beneath them and bit into it with a small cocky smile of his own. He moved closer, tentatively and slowly, until he had Y/N pressed up against the wall he was only leaning on. Johnny’s hand was right at his shoulder, almost guiding Y/N back to the wall upon an instinct they never truly lost in each other. “What is it that you see…?” Johnny leaned in and whispered into Y/N’s ear, his hand by Y/N’s shoulder pressed against the wall behind him - just like the old times when Johnny would have Y/N caged in his arms as the bell would go. It was almost as if they could feel that thrill now, those lingering moments where they wanted to be anywhere but the ‘now’ they held between one another.

Y/N raised his hands to Johnny’s neck, touch settling just beneath Johnny’s jaw as he brought his face back to where it lingered inches from his - their eyes locking and Johnny holding another shuddering breath hostage. “If you wanna get drunk on this,” Y/N nodded to the cup, then licked his lips in a way that kept Johnny frozen, transfixed, and left his hands with no choice but to grasp at Y/N’s waist. “You gotta hurry up and take it, can’t just get drunk on these lips alone.”

How plainly, how innocently Y/N put it with that radiant smile on his face, Johnny just wanted to take all that starlight and feel it burn through the, past their teeth, along anywhere Y/N would let Johnny get his hands on.

Y/N didn’t know the power he had, and Johnny sure didn’t know either. Just feeling Y/N’s words hang on his edges, drape themselves so teasingly against him, drove Johnny mad, sent his thoughts into a frenzy - and he hasn’t had a hint of the alcohol on Y/N’s tongue yet.

“I’d beg to differ, your kisses are addicting…” Johnny pulled Y/N closer, and Y/N tipped his forehead against Johnny’s. “I’m not kidding, I can get drunk on just your smile-”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

The space between them collapsed, buckled, burst, reduced to the slivers of starlight stretching over them as they tied their lips together, felt the crushed velvet of their mouths and tongues, tasted the honey of the sweet words they’ve saved for only each other. All their cluttered thoughts, inhibitions, doubts, fears, worries, all melted from their skin as they felt themselves trace over each other’s skin as if they never stopped. They let themselves sink into the tides of each other’s touch as Johnny kneaded his hands into Y/N’s waist and made his way up under Y/N’s shirt, and Y/N, his hands no longer trembling with a fear he no longer remembers, working up to Johnny’s hair, tangling it up in his fingertips.

The flush of Y/N’s skin against Johnny’s hands, it stifled his senses, burned straight through him as it bloomed beneath everywhere he laid his hands, everywhere he’s yearned to touch, to feel and to savour, as he felt Y/N’s kiss drag a rumbling groan out from deep in his throat. The sweetness of the cooler on Y/N’s tongue slipped Johnny’s mind the moment it pushed between Johnny’s teeth. All he could feel was the numbness, the blur of rushing emotion, as he let the blue dawn of their unforgettable mornings and the indigo nights they threw to the wind submerge him.

There was no safer place for Y/N than wound up in Johnny’s arms - he nearly let this feeling slip away from him. And as the sparks that rose to the back of their throats ignited in flickers of daylight between their lips, each velvety pulse of their mouths against one another, all they could do was give in to that merciless yearning and reckless abandon; daylight and shadows of their past barreling through them and leaving them breathless.

Their touches grew brave, restless and daring to find more things they could never forget, Johnny’s hands sailing the seas of Y/N’s waistline, where all his jeans hung just right, and Y/N’s touch trailing Johnny’s chest and running over where he’s sketched shapes and drew lines of moonlight into Johnny’s skin.

All sensation, their crash-landing from the stars where their kisses always took them, hit them as they pulled back. Johnny found where Y/N’s hands ran over his skin in trails of fire, took them in his own and held them in a knot above Y/N’s head - pinned against the wall they’ve nearly reduced to ashes. He caressed Y/N’s fingers with his own, and still wrung dry of all his breath, dove in once more for one soft yet deep kiss - a flicker, a glint of all the light they shone on each other.

Y/N just took a second to look into Johnny’s eyes as he leaned back the second time, brought their hands down and held them between their chests, their beating hearts they still couldn’t feel unless they focused. But they couldn’t focus on anything else but each other. “I missed you…”

“I missed you too, I missed you so much.” Johnny took the breathlessness in Y/N’s words and tucked it between Y/N’s teeth with one more delicate kiss. “But I’m here now, I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“You better not after kissing me like that.” Y/N shone a radiant grin, and Johnny took Y/N by his waist and kissed the corners of his smile, feeling his heart leap as Y/N let out a brilliant chuckle. His eyes shone so fiercely, shimmered so brightly, and as Johnny took him in - took all of him in - he’s never been more sure about where his home was.

His home was where it always was, it was in Y/N’s arms, hanging by the threads of his fingertips, suspended in his gaze, or on the other end of his words and that sickly sweet voice that leaves Johnny craving for more. Y/N was his home, Johnny was Y/N’s - they were each other’s happy endings, and they were finally ready to fall back into the pages they haven’t completed yet.

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smileysuh · 6 months

Text

seeing double

🌙staring. Johnny & John x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “As much as I’d love to fuck two of you, I know you’ve always been interested in a threesome with two guys, and we both know I’m too protective to let anyone else touch you. I found this cloning spell and I figured, if there’s one man I can share you with, it’s myself.”

tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, oral, blow jobs, pussy eating, praise, dirty talk, degradation, y/n calls Johnny daddy twice, John calls y/n whore/slut/bitch once each cuz he's an ass, demonic double John is a bit of a dick, anal fingering, deep throating, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, double penetration (pussy/mouth), triple penetration (pussy/mouth/finger in ass), spanking, choking, biting, punishment, blindfold/sensory deprivation, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, John cums on her face, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.9k

🍭 aus. Warlock Johnny, established relationship, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. ya'll thought one Johnny was enough for us, but I give you double John- threesome of the year

“Do you trust me?” Johnny asks, pulling away from a breathtaking kiss to lock his gaze with your own. His hands are gentle on your hips, but something in his smile makes you uneasy.

“It depends,” you admit. “I thought I trusted you last month when you decided summoning a demon was a good idea but that didn’t turn out very well, did it, Johnny?”

“What do you mean?” he laughs. “That was a great idea! He gave me a new spell book!”

“Yeah, a book of black magic! Please tell me you haven’t been messing around with that again-”

“Fine, I haven’t been messing around with it,” Johnny pulls you deeper into his room, “I’ve been reading it.”

“Johnny-”

“Trust me on this one, I found a spell and I think you’ll really like it!”

You can’t believe you’re humoring your boyfriend on this, but with a sigh, you take a seat on his bed. “Fine, what is it?”

“It’s a cloning spell,” Johnny grins, picking up the Demonic Grimoire.

“A cloning spell?” you repeat, eyes widening. “Are you trying to suggest a threesome or something? You know, if you want another girl to join, it’s easier to just go find one rather than conjure up a double-”

“Not another girl,” Johnny cuts you off. “As much as I’d love to fuck two of you, I know you’ve always been interested in a threesome with two guys, and we both know I’m too protective to let anyone else touch you. I found this cloning spell and I figured, if there’s one man I can share you with, it’s myself.”

You simply stare at him for a moment, trying to register his words. “You mean… you want to…”

“Conjure up a clone of myself, and rail you with him, yeah.” Johnny’s grin widens. “Besides, that demon did warn me that most of the shit in this Grimoire is made for sin, and what’s more sinful than this? Lust, gluttony, pride, greed, sloth, hell, even envy is probably going to pop up. Maybe you’ll feel a little wrath too, if you act bratty. We can do all seven of the deadly sins in one go!”

You find yourself laughing. “You sound way too excited about committing cardinal sins, Johnny.”

“Well, I am half demon, remember.”

Sometimes you do forget that your sweet boyfriend is partly demonic. But his stint with the pentagram last month had reminded you just how close to Hell he really is, even behind his large smile and the ‘I love you’s’ that he showers onto you daily.

Many warlocks have a demon mark. Some have horns, or a tail- some sort of clear sign that they’re not of this world. But your Johnny? The only mark he has connecting him to the land below is heterochromia, one eye with a black iris, the other brown. In low lighting, it’s almost easy to miss the slight difference in color, and your boyfriend blends seamlessly into the human world with something as mundane as a pair of sunglasses. Others of his kind aren’t nearly as lucky.

It’s been over twenty years since all manner of ‘night beings’ revealed themselves to your world. Vampires, witches, warlocks, werewolves, demons, angels- the list goes on. And while humanity has gotten used to these ‘others,’ they’re not fully accepted yet either. You have family members who would have a heart attack if they knew what you got up to with Johnny every week.

“Come on, baby,” Johnny sets his Grimoire down in favor of grabbing your hand. “I’ll only do it if you want to give it a try.”

“Is it easy to cancel the spell?” you ask. “Last time you conjured that cat with batwings we couldn’t get rid of it for a week-”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t love Mister Whisker-Bat by the end of the week though, you were just as sad to see him go as I was,” Johnny insists. “But yeah, canceling the spell is easy. I’ll be using one of my hairs for the spell, to get rid of the double, all we have to do is light the small alter - and hair - on fire.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Is that a yes?” Johnny’s eyes widen. “You’ll have a threesome with me and me?”

You laugh at his choice of words. “You can conjure him and we can see what he’s like, how’s that sound?”

“Trust me, baby, you’ll love him.” Johnny flashes you a wink, his brown eye disappearing momentarily so all you see is the black one. It’s a quirk of his, whenever he winks, it’s always the demon eye on full display.

“How are you so sure about this?” you ask, standing from the bed and wrapping your arms around the back of Johnny’s neck, looking up at him with a smile. His confidence is one of the things you love most about him, even if it does get him into trouble.

“I just am, it’s a feeling I have.” He shrugs, hands finding your hips.

It’s impossible to be this close to your boyfriend and not kiss him, so that’s what you do, pressing your mouth against his. It’s gentle at first, but as with everything when it comes to your warlock boyfriend, it quickly turns heated.

Johnny’s tongue swipes across your lip, begging for entry. You invite him into your mouth, stifling a moan at the feeling as his hands hold you closer, tugging you flush to his chest.

You have no idea what tonight will be like, but you do trust Johnny. He’d never let you get hurt, and you doubt his clone will either.

Your fingers slip up to thread through his hair. He’s had it dyed a blondish grey for as long as you’ve known him, and you’re living for the way it sets off his skin tone. You’d half expected the strands to be crunchy when you’d first kissed him months ago, but his hair is as smooth as silk- Johnny has some sort of potion hair mask that he uses to keep himself shiny and soft.

You tug gently on his hair and Johnny groans against your mouth, digging his digits against your hips. He’d said he needs hair for this spell to work, and you narrow in on two strands, biting his lip at the same time you give a rough yank.

“Ow!” Johnny yelps, pulling away from you. He looks down at you with wide eyes.

“You said you needed hair for the spell,” you grin, holding out the strands. “Here, I was just trying to help.”

He gives you a look that says he doesn’t quite believe you, and it only makes your smile widen.

“Okay,” Johnny sighs. “Let’s do this.”

You watch him approach the small alter he’s made on his desk. There’s a large, circular mirrored tray as the base. Covering the reflective surface is a number of dried herbs and other warlock items, a bottle of something dark red, what looks like salt or ash- there’s also a few runes decorating the space, and bits of parchment covered in incantations.

Johnny sets his hair in the center, then pulls a lighter out of his jean pocket. He lifts a black candle, igniting it. As the flame licks the wick, Johnny begins to speak in some form of demonic language, picking up the Grimiore with his free hand.

You practically hold your breath, watching him as he tilts the candle at an angle, allowing the hot wax to drip down onto his hair, sticking it to the mirror. When he seems satisfied with the amount of black wax, he sets the candle down next to the hairs.

His voice has taken on a deeper edge as he continues reading the spell, and you can practically see the power begin to radiate off your warlock boyfriend, like grey waves resounding out from his flesh, echoing through the room.

Your hair stands on edge, a slight heat overtaking you, and you smell the familiar scent of brimstone. It’s a smell you’ve become accustomed to since Johnny apprehended the Grimoire in his hands, and it’s always given you an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You like to think of Johnny as your soft boyfriend, but he’s a warlock, and the demonic side of him is never more evident than on nights like these.

You’re not sure what to expect as Johnny’s spell work comes to an end. Bat-cat had appeared in a puff of smoke, but as you look around, there’s no dark cloud, no evident conjuration-

“Huh,” Johnny cocks his head to the side. “That should have worked-”

The lights flicker out, the room going dark aside from the one black candle burning on the altar.

Then, just as suddenly, the lights turn back on, and your gaze shifts to the switch by the door. Your breath catches as you take in the man standing there, one hand lazily touching the switch. Johnny’s double has appeared, and he’s the one who just turned the lights back on.

“Hi, losers.”

While the new Johnny clone is wearing the same white shirt and black jeans combo your boyfriend has on, this Johnny has dark hair. You’ve always loved your boyfriend’s coloured strands, but there’s something so regal about the dark brown- it sets off the sharp angles of his face, and leaves you breathless.

“Who are you calling losers?” Johnny retorts, closing the Grimiore and turning to face the double at the door.

“I’m calling you two losers,” the clone grins. “You’re a loser for wanting a threesome with yourself, and she’s a loser for agreeing to it.”

“You’re a bit of a dick, aren’t you?” your boyfriend laughs.

“Not any more than you. I’m your double, anything I say or do is something you would say or do, well, it would be if you let your demonic side out more often. You’re so good at keeping that part of you under lock and key, but not tonight. Here I am.” The double pushes off from the wall, approaching your boyfriend. “Don’t be mad if you don’t like what you see.”

“I’m not mad about what I see,” Johnny says thoughtfully, “I’m just wondering why your hair is so dark. Thought you were supposed to be a clone.”

“My hair is like your demon side, you can try to cover it up, make it lighter, but this spell always knows your true self. Besides, baby thinks I look good with this hair colour,” the clone’s gaze shifts to you, and he flashes you that classic Johnny grin, “isn’t that right, baby?”

“I-” your words get choked in your throat, and you swallow thickly, looking between your boyfriend and his darker double. “Johnny-”

“Another charade to appear nicer,” the clone clicks his tongue. “Your blonde, soft-looking boyfriend might go by the name Johnny. But tonight, you’ll call me John.”

“You’re not the one calling the shots tonight,” your boyfriend interjects, “but… having two different names for us isn’t a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” John smirks, “you came up with it yourself.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

The two handsome men exchange a knowing glance, and your insides twist with anticipation.

They’re gonna fuck you up and you just know it.

“So, since I’m not the one calling the shots,” John sighs, gaze shifting to you again, “how about you tell me how this is going to go? I’d hate to step on any… toes.”

He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you up. You’re used to Johnny’s black iris, but John’s dark hair makes it stand out even more. It’s noticeably demonic, and it makes your heart race in your chest. You feel like a prey being sized up by a predator, and something about it has your panties getting wet.

“You know what?” your soft lover cocks his head to the side. “Baby, how about you tell us what you want to do? You’re the one who’s about to be railed, you should get to choose how it happens, don’t you think?”

“I like how you say that as if you’ll actually fully listen to her,” John scoffs.

“What do you mean? I always give baby a say in things.”

“Yeah. Sure. Except you nudge her in the direction you want to go. We both know it’s only going to take a little stroking, a little making her gag on our cocks, and she’ll be putty in our fucking hands. Baby just wants to please, isn’t that right, pretty girl?” John’s grin widens when all you can do is stare at him.

There might be a response for his lewd observation, but you’re already feeling nice, submissive and dumb. There are no thoughts in your head except ‘holy fuck.’

This dark John is really hot, especially when contrasted by your light boyfriend.

You’re literally in awe, lips parted ever so slightly, your body tingling with anticipation.

“You know what?” Johnny sighs. “You’re right. We both know baby loves when we’re in control, so lets just… be in control.”

“Now you’re talking,” John grins. “I’ve got a suggestion.”

“Let's hear it.”

“What if we blind fold her? Make her guess who’s touching. Punishment for wrong answers.”

“Punishment?” you ask, voice coming out much shakier than you’d meant for it to.

“Nothing you won’t like,” John assures you. “Now be a good girl and grab the blindfold from the bedside table for us.”

Your eyes shift to Johnny, and he gives you a small nod. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turn and do as you’re asked, holding out the silky eye covering a moment later.

“Now put it on,” John instructs. “And this time, don’t look at him for permission. Just do it.”

You do as you’re told, hands shaky as you cover your sight with a strip of darkness. As soon as your vision is blocked, you feel more sensitive. You feel even more like prey. Most of all, you feel vulnerable.

There’s a half-demon warlock and a dark clone with demonic intentions staring at you like they want to eat you up. To top it all off, you’ve now just blocked off one of the most important senses.

The bed dips next to you, and you jump slightly from the motion.

A large hand smooths across the back of your neck, angling you to face the side, and then lips are pressing against your own.

This mouth is familiar, and you lean into the kiss, letting out a sigh of relief. You reach out, grabbing at the man’s knee to steady yourself, wanting to get lost in the person’s lips-

But then they’re pulling back. “Guess who?” they ask, voice soft.

“Johnny?”

A small chuckle, and you realize immediately that you’ve already failed the first test.

“How easy it is to trick you, baby.” He lets out a deep sigh, pulling away completely, standing from the bed. “Time for your first punishment. I think three smacks should suffice. Get on all fours, and say thank you for each one.”

Your skin tingles, heart beating wildly in your chest. You do as you’re told.

Getting into a doggy position, you bend down slightly, arching your back. You’re on edge, listening intently for movement. Soft footfalls let you know someone is approaching, and then two hands grab your asscheeks through your pants, squeezing roughly.

“First three through the jeans, but once we’re done with you, I’m taking these off.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement, and you let out a small moan of affirmation.

Your panties are sticking to your core already, and the first hit makes you cry out, pussy clenching around nothing. It had been a heavy-handed smack, harder than Johnny has ever hit you before- but there’s something almost delicious about it.

Your toes curl, and you suck in a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Good girl,” someone praises you.

Another smack has you moaning even louder, grabbing at the bed sheets and bunching them up in your hands. “Fuck, thank you!”

The third hit has you practically trembling. You can already feel a bruise forming- but the pain is perfection, in a masochistic kind of way.

“Thank you!”

“Time to guess who delivered your punishment, baby.”

You feel like a dumb little slut. You’re already slipping into sub-space, delirious and horny. If you had it your way, maybe you wouldn’t even want to speak full sentences anymore. Your mind is swimming, and nothing feels coherent.

“I-” you lick your lips. The smacks had been hard. “John?”

“Wrong again, pretty girl. Your soft boyfriend is the one who just punished you, but I guess he’s not so soft anymore. In fact… I’d say he’s quite hard. We both are.”

“Fuck-” you groan, imagining your boyfriend’s cock all stiff in his pants- then you remember that the visual should be doubled, and you can feel your mouth beginning to water.

“Second punishment, suck us off. We’ll see if you really know your boyfriend’s cock or not.”

A hand grabs at you, helping you off the bed and onto your knees on the floor. “Johnny?” you ask.

“Wow, you finally got one right.” The laugh that fills the room is distinctly clone like.

“Do I get a reward, John?”

“The reward is you get to suck cock, and since you just got two in a row, you’ll get to suck both of us.”

It’s almost comical how reward and punishment are the same thing, but you’re in too deep to question it.

Now is not the time to be bratty, and you know it.

There’s a small shuffle in front of you, and then someone instructs you to “Stick out your tongue.”

You do as you’re told, and a second later, a cock is tapped against your wet muscle. You fight the urge to try to suck on it, allowing the man to coat themselves in your saliva. You even begin to drool, and you feel a drip make its way down your chin.

“Suck.”

You immediately lean forward, swallowing the bulbous head into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, and you sink down as far as you can. Johnny has a big cock, you’ve never been able to take it all, but that never stops you from trying.

Your hands brace against someone’s thighs, and you begin to bob your head. The man above you lets out a groan, fingers threading through your hair, guiding you to bob faster, taking more and more into your mouth.

“Guess who,” the man you’re sucking on breathes.

You pull off his cock, feeling a line of spit still connecting you to the best dick you’ve ever had. “Johnny.”

“That’s my girl.” He pulls you onto him again, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. Your fingers dig into his thighs. You push your reflex away, doing your best to please your boyfriend.

“Fuck it,” comes a rough voice, “my turn.”

A second hand grabs your hear, tugging you away from your boyfriend’s cock- only for the same cock to be pushed past your lips.

It’s sinful how exact the clone is. He has the same large vein running along the underside of his length, the same mushroom tip, the same slight curve, the same taste-

But his motions are different. He’s more aggressive, forcing you all the way onto him like you’d willingly taken Johnny just moments ago. The sudden feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat with no prep - no sucking to start - has you gagging hard, your eyes beginning to water.

Grabbing onto his thighs to steady yourself, you do your best to relax, to focus on the sounds beginning to leave John’s lips, but as he fucks your face, it’s hard not to feel every inch of him.

“Don’t be so rough,” Johnny tuts.

“Don’t be a backseat vouyer,” John retorts.

“She’s being good for you, why are you being so mean?”

“This is part punishment, remember?” You listen to the clone click his tongue, and then he’s tearing your blindfold off. “Besides, I like how she looks when she cries.”

This is so sick and twisted.

If John is saying this, it means that somewhere, buried inside your soft boyfriend, he also likes seeing your eyes well with tears.

You struggle to open your eyes, looking up at John. He’s staring down at you, and he releases a deep groan when he notices you watching him. “You love this, don’t you, baby? You love being used like our little fuck toy. Love taking this big cock deep in your fucking throat-”

You hate that he’s right.

Your panties must be soaked by now.

“Fuck-” Johnny whispers, and you wonder how it looks for him to watch himself fuck your face like this. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough.”

“It’s enough,” your boyfriend states, firmer this time.

“Someone finally grew a backbone,” John laughs, pulling his cock from your mouth. You gasp at the loss, a line of spit still connecting you to the rock-hard length in front of your face. Tears trail down your cheeks, and you’re breathing heavily. You dig your fingers into John’s thighs, marveling in the moment of reprieve.

“Are you alright, baby?” Johnny asks. When you turn to look at him, concern is evident all over his face.

You nod, and it takes a moment for you to find your voice. “Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck, I forgot she calls us that sometimes.”

“She calls me daddy sometimes,” Johnny corrects, “and only when she’s in subspace- you really did a number on her.”

“We did a number on her. You started it with the spankings, remember?”

Johnny ignores his clone, reaching down to help you to your feet. He leads you to sit on the bed, getting onto his knees so he can be eye level with you. “He wasn’t too rough on you, was he?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“You’re still good for this?”

You nod, reaching forward to grab at the front of his white tshirt. Johnny lets you pull him in for a kiss, his large hands smoothing along your thighs.

Your tongue dips out to stroke his own and your boyfriend groans, squeezing you through your jeans. “Pants off,” he says, dragging his lips from yours so he can begin to tear your clothes from your body.

It’s shocking how quickly he gets you down to your underwear, and then he pushes you onto the bed. He pries your thighs open, and you feel two sets of dark eyes on your core.

“Already soaked. I knew you liked being our good little cock slut.”

“I guess I should give you a taste first, seeing as the only cock that’s going inside this pussy tonight is mine,” your boyfriend sighs, pressing one kiss to your knee before standing up to make space for his clone.

“Yeah, our cock.”

“My cock,” Johnny says, firmly this time. “You only get her mouth.”

“What’s the point of a demonic threesome if she’s not going to be properly double stuffed?” John asks, sinking down onto the floor between your spread thighs.

“One in the pussy, one in the mouth is double stuffed.”

“We both know I want her ass,” John rolls his eyes.

“I’ve never even been in her ass, don’t get greedy.” Johnny clicks his tongue.

Their bantering is doing something to you. The way they discuss this so confidently as if you’re not even in the room- you’re getting a view of Johnny’s inner thoughts, the battles he has with his demonic self-

He’s never talked to you about anal. But then again, his cock is so big it had taken you a while to even be able to receive it fully in your pussy, let alone somewhere else.

“If you’re good tonight, I’ll consider conjuring you again,” Johnny says finally.

You swallow thickly, gaze shifting to your soft boyfriend who’s really taken the reigns over his demonic double. John chuckles between your legs, shaking his head slightly before pressing his lips to your inner thigh.

“Did you hear that, baby?” John asks. “Sounded like a challenge to make you cum.”

“Then I guess…” your voice is much to hoarse and shuddery for your liking, “I guess you better not disappoint.”

The clone between your legs scoffs loudly. “As if disappointing you was ever an option.”

You open your mouth to respond, only for John to press his face against your panty-covered core. His tongue flicks through the soaked fabric, teasing by your clit and making your legs twitch. Your hands fly to grab at his dark hair, and a whimper slips out of you.

He’s being a tease, and from the way he’s looking up at you, smirking while kissing your pussy through your panties, John clearly knows what he’s doing. You shift under his mouth, laying back against the bed and pushing your core closer to him, tightening your grip in his hair.

“Please-”

“Begging already?” Johnny asks, moving to sit next to you on the bed. “Thought you’d hold out a little longer.”

“Can’t,” you mewl, arching your back as John pulls your panties to the side, blowing cool air along your throbbing cunt. “I need-” You lick your lips, gaze dropping to Johnny’s hard cock.

“You want something to suck on, don’t you, baby?” Johnny grins, reaching out to stroke your face as his clone’s tongue dives into your core.

“Yes,” you nod, accepting your boyfriend’s thumb past your lips. You moan around the digit, thighs clenching as John sucks lewdly on your clit, flicking at it with his tongue while you stroke Johnny’s finger with your own.

“I guess I can let you suck me off for a bit, get you ready to take him in your throat-” Johnny muses. “But I want you on all fours, I wanna fuck your face, and I can’t do it at this angle.”

The man between your thighs pulls away suddenly, and his large hands easily flip you over, getting you ready for your boyfriend. It must be nice for him to have such a willing participant in the bedroom- you’re pretty sure Johnny could make any command, and John would follow through with getting it set up for him.

They have a one-track mind, and you’d bet your life that John is just as excited to get you on all fours as Johnny is.

Two large hands grip your ass, spreading your cheeks while Johnny shuffles to his knees and presents his cock to you. As you accept Johnny past your lips, a tongue presses into your wet hole again, and your toes curl at the stimulus.

“Just like that, baby,” Johnny coos, pushing your hair out of your face. “You suck on me, while he sucks on you.”

John growls against your clit, squeezing your ass roughly and shaking his head back and forth, earning a squeal that’s muffled by Johnny’s cock, which begins to glide in and out of your mouth.

“It’s funny- I can almost taste you,” Johnny muses. “I wonder if he can feel you on his cock like I can-”

The double pulls his lips from your pussy, and you can feel him momentarily panting, trying to catch his breath from the enthusiastic way he’s been eating you out. “I can feel it,” John confirms. “She’s always so good at sucking us off, even if she can’t fit much of us in that little mouth of hers.”

“She’s gotten better at blow jobs,” Johnny defends you, sinking further past your lips. “When she started, she could hardly take three inches, now look at her.”

His cock hits the back of your throat and you fight through your gag reflex. Your eyes are watering, so you shut them, focusing on being a good girl for your boyfriends.

Boyfriends. Plural.

You suppose - in this sex-induced haze - you’re already thinking of John as a lover. Any man eating you out as chaotically and thoroughly as he should be considered one, right?

When John’s mouth returns to your pussy and his thumb begins to circle your asshole, you definitely think of him as a boyfriend. Only your boyfriend is allowed to toy with you like this.

“Are you serious?” Johnny’s voice distracts you, the thrusts of his face fucking slowing down. “We just discussed no anal-”

“It’s just a finger,” the clone retorts. “She’ll love it. She’s already practically dripping- reacting all nice and pretty just from the thought, isn’t that right, baby?”

A gentle smack on your ass prompts you to pull off of Johnny’s cock, bracing yourself against one of his thighs while you catch your breath. You find yourself nodding, moaning like a whore in heat. “Please- I can take a finger, I can try-”

“We knew jealousy was a part of this, envy- one of the seven cardinal sins,” teeth graze your butt cheek. “I’m jealous of you getting her mouth and pussy, I’m sure you can suffer through watching me finger fuck this tight ass for the first time. We both know you’ll be the first to actually fuck it sooner or later- why can’t you let me have this one win? Come on Johnny, she’ll love it. You conjured me to make her feel good, didn’t you?”

“Fuck, you’re too convincing,” Johnny sighs, stroking your face. “Beg him for it, baby. I need to know you actually want this.”

“I want it so bad,” you whimper, a rush of emotion flooding through you. “Please, I wanna be full- I wanna feel it-” A strangled gasp escapes your lips when John spits on your ass, rubbing the fluid around your tight hole before pressing the tip of his finger inside of you. “Oh my god-”

Johnny threads his fingers through your hair, tugging so you’re forced to look up at him. “The moment you cum, we’re switching positions and I’m fucking you, got it, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moan.

“Now open up.”

You do as you’re told, and Johnny slips his cock back into your mouth, picking up where he’d left off.

Generally, when you’re blowing Johnny, it’s hard to focus on anything else. But today, it’s hard to focus on anything other than John, whose finger fills your ass perfectly while his tongue circles your clit like magic.

You can feel a pleasure bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and each rough thrust from Johnny has your body tensing, the orgasmic coil wrapping tighter and tighter-

Despite the cock in your mouth, lewd sounds are escaping you. A gurgling noise that you know you should be ashamed of- but you can’t bring yourself to care, mind occupied on the high that’s approaching much too quickly.

It’s clear that John wants you to cum. He wants to tear your pleasure out of you faster than you can even think-

His thumb massages your inner walls, stretching your tight hole open and making your toes curl.

“That’s it baby,” Johnny praises you, his grip tight in your hair while he fucks your face. “Taking us both so well.”

You can feel a tear of overstimulation roll down your cheek. This is almost too much for you to handle, and you haven’t even cum yet.

One particularly rough thrust has your throat constricting around Johnny, and it’s the last bit of stimulus you need to come completely undone for your Johns. Your abdomen tenses, and just like that, the chord snaps. It snaps hard.

You tear your mouth off of Johnny’s cock, practically screaming as your orgasm rips through you like wildfire. Your whole body is alight with pleasure, clit throbbing, pussy contracting around nothing, your ass sucking up John’s finger to betray the deep need that’s grown within you-

All you can do is moan like a desperate whore, clinging to Johnny’s thigh while John helps you ride out your orgasm. The double is unrelenting, as if he wants to work you for every last drop you can give him- his tongue switching between slurping at your clit and diving past your folds, stroking your walls as they shudder.

“Good girl,” Johnny groans, petting your head with one hand while the other wraps around his cock, stroking himself through your high. He’s patient with you, allowing you to experience every shiver and moan, until your walls stop contracting, and John pulls away from your pussy with a wet smack of his lips. “Time for the main event.”

His words make you feel drenched all over again. John pulls his thumb from your ass only to smack it roughly, giving you a squeeze for good measure. “Be sweet for us,” the double warns, as if you’ve ever been anything but their perfect princess.

In just a few moments, Johnny and John have switched. Your light-haired boyfriend sets up behind you while the dark double settles by your face. His cock is red, leaking precum, and you realize you’ve hardly done much to touch him tonight- seeing as he just made you cum, you waste no time wrapping your lips around the mushroom tip, stroking your tongue along the ridge you find there.

“Fuck,” John groans, threading his fingers through your hair to anchor you like your boyfriend had just minutes ago. “Who’s our good little cock whore?”

“She is,” Johnny answers for you, sinking his cock deep into your pussy. “Fuck, our perfect little cock whore.”

He’s never called you this before- but it sounds so natural coming from him and his clone. Is this yet another one of your boyfriend’s fantasies? First anal, and now you being a good little cock whore?

Johnny is generally a man who sticks to praise, and while he’s still doing that- there’s this darker underlayer beginning to be more evident. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought. This threesome with your boyfriend’s dark self is illuminating for not only your twisted sexual desires, but Johnny’s as well.

You can’t help the way you react to the term ‘cock whore,’ your pussy clenching tight around the large cock splitting you open. You begin to drool on John too, relaxing your throat as he begins to fuck your face. He might be a dark double, but John’s being shockingly soft with the amount you can take. He’s not thrusting fully- not making you gag and cry- he’s using you like a man who knows and respects your limits.

At least Johnny’s respect for you transcends form.

“You know what?” Johnny says. “I watched how hard she came with your thumb in her ass, I think you’re right about filling her up properly.”

“Bet she’ll go fucking feral for three holes filled,” the clone agrees darkly, making you moan around his cock. “See? Listen to her. She sounds like a bitch in heat. Fill her up, Johnny. She’ll fucking love it.”

These men are downright insatiable- you kind of love it.

Just like his double had, Johnny spits onto your hole, and a moment later, his thumb is pressing past the tight ring of muscles. Your boyfriend’s thrusts falter slightly, his focus lingering on the way you swallow up his digit, fluttering around both foreign intrusions.

“If we’d have known you’d like butt stuff this much, we would have started training you ages ago, baby,” John muses.

“We’ve still got time.”

“I won’t get to fuck her ass tonight. What time do I have?”

“Next time.”

“So I passed the test? There’s gonna be a next time?”

“Based on how our baby is reacting, I’d say there’s definitely going to be a next time,” Johnny laughs.

“Good. I might be a clone from hell, but I think never getting the chance to truly fuck this little kitten of ours would be the true torture.”

The warlock fucking you while pressing his thumb deeper into your ass scoffs loudly. “And we can’t have that, can we?”

“No.” John tightens his grip in your hair, fucking you harder. “We can’t… also, I have something to admit.”

“Oh?” Johnny releases a chuckle, thumb stilling inside of you. “Now this I have to hear.”

“You’re under the impression I’ll be conjured until you light your hair and alter on fire, but unfortunately, at the moment, I’m bound to the candle as well. You missed the fine print in the Grimoire. When the candle reaches its end, I’ll disappear too.”

In your periphery, you’re aware of both men turning to look toward the alter, and your boyfriend releases a small curse word. “I guess we better make this quick.”

“And you should buy a bigger candle next time, that six incher you used tonight is a fucking joke and we both know it.”

“My bad,” Johnny begins railing into you as hard as he had so far, pressing his thumb deep inside of you. “Guess I’m not the best at reading the fine print.”

“It’s okay, something tells me baby can only take so much more of this. She’s drooling all over my cock, her throat all nice and open, so ready to be fucked-” John groans loudly.

“We’ve really fucked her stupid, haven’t we, Big Guy?”

Your skin tingles- there’s an inkling of something deeper in Johnny’s tone… is he… is he flirting with himself?

The man above you moans louder. “Of course we did. Have you ever seen anyone with a better cock than this? And for her to get two of us? She’s the luckiest fucking girl in the whole world- I want her to thank us when we cum. Want her to know how fucking blessed she is by this.”

It’s an interesting paradox- to be blessed by a demonic threesome.

“Are you gonna cum on her face?”

“Fuck, if you let me. She’ll look so pretty all painted in cum.”

“She can’t say thank you if you keep her mouth full,” Johnny notes, digging his fingers against your hips while railing you as hard as ever. Each smack of his hips against your ass has his cock fully buried in your wet core, the tip of his length pressing against your cervix and making your toes curl with insatiable need.

“No, I guess she can’t.” John stuffs himself fully in your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You’ve never felt impaled like this- taking two of the largest dicks you’ve ever had-

Your nose brushes by the dark clone’s pubic hair, and something about it makes you feel even more sinful, your throat constricting while lewd gagging noises fill the room. John holds you on his cock, letting out a deep groan at the feeling of your muscles tightening around him-

“That’s it baby, just a little more-”

“Fuck, she’s squeezing so fucking tight-” Johnny moans from behind you.

“I can feel it,” John breathes.

“When you cum, I’ll have to cum-”

“She’s close too-”

“Fuck.” Johnny pulls his thumb out of your ass suddenly, wrapping his hand around your front so two fingers can circle your clit. At the same time, John takes his cock from your mouth, releasing a loud moan-

You cum in unison with the dark double, and from the loud grunt at your rear, you’re pretty sure Johnny’s just reached his peak as well.

You’re breathing heavily, mind completely delirious. Your throat feels raw as you swallow thickly- “Thank you, fuck, thank you, thank you, thank you-” you begin to blabber as John cums hard on your face, his large hand jerking himself off while ropes paint your skin.

“Good girl, good fucking girl-” Johnny groans behind you, fucking you through your highs while his fingers continue on your clit, drawing out your orgasm while your pussy milks him for every drop of cum he has.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-” you can’t stop saying it, even while tears and cum begin to drip down your cheeks, your body completely overwhelmed by the two men who know you like the back of their hand.

Above you, John releases one last shuddery breath. He strokes your hair, whispering the word “Perfect-” and then, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, he disappears.

You collapse forward onto the bed, pussy still throbbing around Johnny, who slowly comes to a stop behind you.

Then he’s collapsing as well, laying his warm body against your back and pressing you against the mattress. His lips are hot along your bare shoulders and he seeks out your neck, teasing past your ear.

“You did so good for us,” he praises you. “Such a perfect baby.”

“Johnny-” you whimper, as deep in subspace as you’ve ever been in your whole life.

“I know, baby, I know. You don’t have to talk.” You hear him swallow thickly, and with one last kiss to your throat, he pulls away. “I’m gonna get you in a bath. Gonna wash all this cum off of you and cuddle you to sleep, sound good?”

“Please-” you moan, pussy clenching around him again.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling his cock out of your tight, dripping hole. “We really did a number on you.”

But in all honesty, you really wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! dream threesome tbh

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🔮 preview. “What happened to your manners, baby?” John’s grip increases again, making your head dizzy. “You were sweeter to me last time. Only sweet girls get fucked in the ass. So are you going to be sweet for me? Or am I going to have to punish you into submission?”

cw/ tw. Threesome, unprotected sex, anal, blow job, oral, praise, dirty talk, degradation, y/n calls Johnny daddy a few times, demonic double John is a bit of a dick, anal fingering, double penetration (pussy/ass), big dick Johnny, pussy/ass stretching, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.7k I teaser wc. 270

🌙 staring. Johnny & John x afab!Reader

bonus

“Surprise, surprise. I didn’t think you two would conjure me again so soon.”

Your heart skips a beat as you turn to find John standing by the door. It’s been less than a month since you’ve seen him last, and like that first time, he’s dressed as the mirror image of your boyfriend. However, it’s not a white shirt and blue jeans, this time, your boyfriend had gone for full black attire, and it matches the dark hair of his demonic double in a way that has you practically throbbing already.

“What can we say?” Johnny grins. “We liked having an extra set of hands.”

“As if our hands are the best thing about us,” John rolls his eyes, pushing off from the wall. He approaches you like a predator, and you’d missed the swagger in his step, it’s a unique stride that has your heart picking up pace in your chest. “There’s no lying to me, not when I know everything you know, Johnny. I’m here tonight because our perfect little baby is finally ready for the main attraction. She wants to be double stuffed. Fully.”

“I guess there’s no point in fucking around,” Johnny laughs, “even if we do have more time than last I conjured you.”

Your gaze shifts to the massive candle burning on the altar. You and Johnny had gone to six different spell shops to find the largest one possible- it’s almost as big as Johnny’s dick when he’s hard, and girthy too. You’ve got all the time in the world tonight- even so, you don’t want to waste a second.

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general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

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✘ nct taglist

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#johnny suh #johnny suh smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 #johnny nct #nct johnny #johnny nct smut #nct johnny smut #nct 2020 #johnny suh x reader #johnny seo #johnny seo smut

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nctsplug02 · 3 months

Note

Johnny decorating you with a facial all over your face then proceeds to call you beautiful and his baby girl princess tehe while staring you in the eyes cleaning your face >

Princess Treatment j.suh

GENRE: smut n fluff!

WARNINGS: face fucking, oral sex (m receiving), kissing, and praising.

PAIRING: bad boy!johnny x nerdy!reader

“…that’s my good girl,” johnny hisses and bites his bottom lip while groping your ass.

you’re on your knees in front of johnny, letting the man fuck your throat in any way he pleased. he has your hair twisted in his fist while he slowly pushes your head down. your makeup that you’d spent hours on now ruined with tear streaks and drools spilling on the sides of your mouth.

“oh, fuck.” johnny lightly gasps, feeling your throat tighten around his tip.

johnnys hips buck causing his tip to slide deeper down your throat. it triggers your reflexes which make you choke around him.

the sudden bump causing your glasses to fall to the tip of your nose. quickly, you use your hand to push it up before focusing back on johnny.

“through your nose, baby—fuck, that’s it!” johnny holds you in place and lets out a string full of moans and groans.

“ooohhh, i’m gonna cum, princess.” johnny groans with his head tossed back, atoms apple bobbing, eyes rolling back, and abs tightening.

you can’t choose which to focus on—johnnys cock throbbing down your throat or your oxygen running out?

your nails dig into johnnys thigh and your palm meets his thigh repeatedly.

johnny releases you and you fling up, quickly gasping for all the air you could. “j—john—johnny—?” your jaw slacks even more when feeling ribbons of thick substances land on your face.

“oh, fuck—baby,” johnny gasps and reaches out for you but you’re in utter shock. “fuck, baby.” johnny strokes himself by the base.

johnny recovers quickly and finds you still with your face painted in his cum. he breaks out into a laughing fit and cradles you.

“i’m so sorry, my love.” johnny cups your face and gently pushes all of your stray hairs away from your face. “was i being too rough?” you shut your eyes and listen as johnny frantically yank tissues from the tissue box sitting on the coffee table.

“did i hurt you?” johnny begins to gently wipe your face with the tissues. “you did so good, princess.” you melt when feeling a pair of lips being pressed on your forehead.

johnny cups your face and gives you a kiss on your lips. “talk to me, princess.” you open your eyes and stare in his eyes.

you swore you could see deeply into his soul.

you and johnny sit in silence for a few minutes. “you’re so beautiful.” he finally breaks the silence with a fat grin on his face. “absolutely stunning.”

“are you okay, baby?” johnny kisses your forehead and pulls away to see you. “i’m okay, i promise.” you grasp his hand and give him a reassuring smile.

johnny pulls you onto his lap and rubs your knees. “do your knees hurt?” you shake your head. “are you sure?” you nod but your red knees say otherwise.

johnny pulls you in for a kiss and slowly switches the two of you until you’re under him. you giggle and break the kiss when feeling johnnys dick poke you.

“i’m sorry,” you put a hand on johnnys chest and look down; he’s still rock hard.

you raise your eyes back to johnnys and shiver, his eyes are dark and hungry. “h—hi.” he giggles and pushes up your glasses. “hi, pretty.”

“you ready for my cock, pretty girl?” you bite your lip and nod. “use your words, baby.” you shudder, feeling johnny tease your entrance with his tip.

“yes sir.” your breath hitches.

you look down, watching as johnny teases your cunt. growing impatient because he hasn’t done a single thing yet.

“please, johnny.” you beg with your hands squeezing his biceps. “please.”

johnny smiles, “anything for you, my pretty girl.” he whispers and flicks your clit once more with his tip. “happy valentine’s day to us, baby.”

“oh, fuck.” you moan out, feeling johnny fill you up within seconds.

it indeed was a happy valentine day.

#ash talks #nctsplug02 #nct imagines #anon #kpop imagines #nct smut #kpop smut #kpop fluff #nct scenarios #nct 127 #johnny angst #nct johnny #johnny fluff #johnny suh smut #johnny seo #johnny seo smut #johnny suh #johnny x reader #johnny smut

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star-suh · 12 days

Text

5-way ticket

Johnny Suh, Lee Taeyong, Mark Lee & Nakamoto Yuta x Male Reader

cw: idol au; tops johnny, taeyong, mark and yuta; unprotected sex, breeding, facial, dumbification, musk kink, degradation, praising, feminization.

an: lowkey think this is a mess, writing 3+ -somes is so hard so ntm. also this is the only fivesome you would see in this account.

—

today it's the day where yn finally would see his favorite group, nct 127, at concert. he also won a vip ticket so he can go and meet them backstage.

yn went greeting each member and talking to them one by one but he felt something different when he talked to johnny, yuta, taeyong and mark… their stares were like those of a hunter looking for a prey…

it was time to say goodbye when mark suddenly whispered in a sexy low voice “see you here after the concert” his breath tickling yn's neck.

“fuckk!! i knew he was good for this” moaned johnny impaling his huge dick inside yn's hole.

“damn he really is” mark said while mouthfucking the fanboy.

yn felt like he was in paradise, having 4 cocks just for him; one in his mouth, other in his ass and the other two on each hand. their musk was like a drug for yn, it made him more eager to just be used by the four all the time they want.

they idols decide to rotate every once in a while, johnny would now put his cock in yn's right hand while yuta would now fuck his mouth, mark moves to the left hand and taeyong rims his ass to fuck him minutes later.

they rotate again, mark didn't waste time and put all his dick in at once “how are you still so tight after taking two dicks already” he started to jerk off yn while thrusting harshly.

“open up for me whore” yuta taps yn's thighs and the fanboy obeys, he clenches his hole into nothing as if it's asking impatiently for yuta's cock. he rubs the tip against the abused hole, yn whimpered impatiently with taeyong's dick stuffing his mouth.

minutes passed and the idols still were at it, yn was regretting it now they had a lot of stamina. being double penetrated back to back by every member has left his hole gaping and dripping a mix of fluids. every cock managed to brush his prostate making him seeing stars for how good he was being fucked. “i'm about to cum” yuta said introducing his cock quickly inside yn's ass and came inside he kept thrusting to ride his high. “move let me churn it and add some more” mark winked at yuta and fucked yn until he came inside. next it's the turn for taeyong and johnny while taeyong fucked the ass, johnny fucked the mouth. “you did so well prince” johnny praised while slapping his cheek lightly, “yeah… thank you for letting us use your boy-pussy” taeyong added emptying his balls inside, every throb of his cock making yn squirm in pleasure. “shit” johnny pulled his cock out quickly, leaving it resting on yn's face spurting ropes of thick cum on his face.

the other day yn woke up in a hotel room, the pain on his lower back killing him but it was worth it, not all days you get to be fucked by a member of your favorite group “hell, i was lucky i got four of them inside me”, he stood up from the bed ready to go to the shower when he found a little card with a number on the nightstand next to him “call us whenever you want to have a really fun time”.

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taelme · 2 years

Text

treacherous

genre: regency!au (with some tweaks ofc), kind of secret romance, painter!johnny, marquess!johnny (mild angst, a lot of fluff im telling yall this was self-indulgent) pairing/s: Johnny / Reader (ft Jaehyun and oc (reader’s sister)) word count: 26k+ (love language strikes again) tw: brief mentions of a parent’s death, mentions of food, reader has a tense relationship with her mom? mentions of religious imagery summary: in your search for love in a material world, you find the acquaintance of a poor painter and discover what it means to feel safe to trust, to be vulnerable, to love—and everything in between a/n: very self indulgent!! (this technically can be read as a standalone but reading enchanted before this can help with context!) was definitely zoning out during my lessons thinking about this johnny.... can yall tell im in love? may have died many times writing this ... definitely was difficult to edit because i was giggling throughout as though i wasn’t the one who wrote it. themed on treacherous but i’d love to hear if you found any other tswift song easter eggs inside!! happy reading read on ao3

There were many rules any supposed self-respecting or ‘well-bred’ gentleman and lady had to abide by in the world you lived in—rules that ensured the protection of a culture, that shaped character, that cultivated virtue. You were very well-versed in such rules, having been fed every conduct manual your mother could get her hands on from the time you were able to read.

You would internalise all that you’d read, taking the words seriously and living by the advice given, moulding yourself into a daughter who was perfect as and when you were judged by the book. Perhaps that was what your mother hoped, that her daughter would agree to being mothered by conduct books.

Of course, that wasn’t quite the case. You read them, surely, but whether you lived by them was an entirely different matter.

The first thing to note, a lady like you was expected to wait to be introduced to a gentleman, and never introduce herself.

“Would you stop fidgeting? How impossible is it for you to just sit still for a moment?” your mother clicked her tongue in distaste, her voice soft enough only for you to hear, but her tone no less cutting.

You glanced at her blankly, shifting in your seat once again before turning your gaze back to the field before you, the crowd of people around you waiting for the races to start. Frankly, the appeal of a race for you lay in watching the horses, how gracefully and strongly they galloped, oblivious to the money being placed behind their speed.

But you knew why you were here, it was hard for you to forget.

“It’ll be nothing short of a miracle if anyone finds you desirable with your horrible manners to show for yourself,” she huffed, turning to your father who was sitting beside her for some sort of support, only growing more annoyed when she saw that he was otherwise unbothered by your fidgeting.

“Spare her, she’s still new to all of this,” he murmured.

“Her sister wasn’t like this when she first debuted,” your mother retorted, earning a sigh from your father.

Your sister, who was now away on her honeymoon with the viscount she married. As much as you were happy for her, you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the support she gave you, especially during times like these where it seemed you would be caught in the crossfire of your mother and father’s disagreements.

“Are they not both ladies? You have to stop treating her like she’s still a child,” your mother murmured harshly, making you shift in your seat uncomfortably, “the sooner you do that, the easier this whole process will be for all of us.”

Now, you couldn’t hide behind the fact that you were young. You were out in society, expected to be looking for a marriage partner, but you still found yourself feeling intimidated by the number of people here knowing that they weren’t looking at you as anyone other than a lady to be married off.

Thankfully enough, you spotted a familiar face (or they spotted you), your gaze landing on a family friend, a bachelor named Taeyong under the tentage next to the spectator stand.

“I’m… going to say hello to Taeyong.”

Your mother hadn’t acknowledged you with anything but a huff, so you took that as a greenlight to leave, straightening your posture in an attempt to make it seem as though you weren’t completely intimidated by the crowd of men you were practically walking into.

Nodding your head at Taeyong in greeting when he met your gaze, he flashed you a smile.

“My lady,” he bowed with extra dramatics, earning a grimace from you, “it feels oddly refreshing to be seeing you in a place like this.”

“How so?” your eyebrows lifted, gaze flickering briefly to notice the man standing next to him, taller than Taeyong and much taller than you, giving him a small nod in acknowledgement.

You knew it was more socially acceptable for you to focus on conversing with Taeyong and not acknowledging the man, since it would have been an obvious fact that he and Taeyong were of different social standings. The man’s dressing was that of a typical man of the working class, compared to Taeyong’s more expensive fabrics, with special tailored tailcoats and frills in his shirt. In spite of this fact, you couldn’t help your gaze from wandering over to the man even as you spoke with Taeyong, something about the way he carried himself making him seem as though he was the one of power between the two of them.

It was a confidence and sureness that you weren’t used to seeing, different from the air with which the viscount Jung Jaehyun carried himself. For the viscount, there was always an air of tension in his slightly aloof demeanour. The man standing next to Taeyong now didn’t seem tense, instead, he possessed a calm confidence. You weren’t sure why it intimidated you more.

“I’m more accustomed to seeing you in your home,” Taeyong huffed, “I guess this means it’s your first season?”

You nodded, glancing again at the man next to Taeyong, who wore a curious expression on his face, observing you as you spoke with Taeyong.

“And my last, if I'm fortunate enough,” you joked, even if you didn’t mean it.

You glanced briefly again at the man standing next to Taeyong, averting your gaze when you met his confident stare, Taeyong’s huff of laughter distracting you just briefly.

“I’m sure the season will be forgiving to you, you’ve always had a rather sweet disposition,” he assured you, eyebrows lifting as he shifted his body just slightly to gesture to the man next to him.

“Oh, right. May I introduce you to a friend of mine who just moved into the town? He’s a painter, a very talented one at that. Miss Y/N this is Mr Suh. Mr Suh, this is my family friend, Miss Y/N.”

The man gave you a polite bow, “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with a polite smile.

Your head tilted in surprise, not having expected the lilting voice to have come from a man whose presence was anything but gentle.

Taeyong glanced between you and Mr Suh, momentarily distracted when he was approached by a man who had greeted him loudly, immediately rattling off into a discussion on the horse race.

Almost about to leave to find your way to the lemonade, you heard the lilting voice again.

“Who are you betting on?” he asked nonchalantly, and with the way he looked ahead as he talked, it would have seemed as though he wasn’t talking to you from the outside. You wondered whether it was intentional.

“Me?” you asked, turning to look up at the man’s face, seeing him tear his gaze away from the horses to look at you, a soft smile gracing his features as he did.

He nodded.

“Am I supposed to be betting on one?” you asked in spite of everything you knew and read from the conduct manuals. You didn’t need Mr Suh to tell you to know that you weren’t supposed to be betting on anything, regardless.

Mr Suh’s eyebrows lifted, taking his lower lip between his teeth before letting it go, “Well,” he began, “I suppose you shouldn’t. But the stakes are what make it more entertaining, aren’t they?”

You scrunch your nose up in disagreement, shaking your head.

“I would beg to differ. Sometimes things are best enjoyed without too many expectations.”

Mr Suh hummed, clasping his hands behind his back, the stance somehow making him seem even more confident, you could almost imagine him dressed in formal wear attending one of the balls your sister spoke of the previous season. A man like him would be hard to miss in a crowd.

“What makes you say that?”

You shrugged, your gaze flickering over the way the sunlight was shining on him through the little holes in the tent above the both of you, casting a pretty glow on where it touched his hair, his skin, his hazel eyes that held the mischief of a cheshire cat to them.

“I suppose when you leave less room for expectation, you also leave less room for disappointment,” you hummed, watching in borderline awe as he let out a huff of laughter.

“Not that I don’t agree with you, because trust me, I do. But humour me, pick one and we’ll see who wins,” he offered smoothly, with the same confidence that made you feel as though he were drawing you in, as if his simple proposition was enough to spark your desire for some excitement in what you otherwise assumed was going to be a boring day.

“And if you win? What happens then?” you asked, earning a thoughtful hum from Mr Suh, lips pursing in thought as if he hadn’t already thought of what he wanted.

Mr Suh’s lips parted, as if having reached a moment of realisation, “You’ll grant me the honour of getting you a glass of lemonade.”

“And if I win?”

Mr Suh grinned, “Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

You hummed, “Alright then. I pick number two.”

And you watched, as the race began, as Mr Suh watched with a serious gaze as the horse you chose had run neck in neck with his, the way number two had begun to pick up speed halfway and you knew you would prevail as the winner by a landslide. Funnily enough, Mr Suh didn’t feel the slightest bit bitter about losing, curious as to what you had in mind for your reward.

It was amusing to you, to see the way the many people standing in the tent had either gushed out yells of excitement or frustration as the race ended, Mr Suh’s expression looking still as calm and confident as he turned to face you.

“Have you decided what you wanted?” he asked, “I’ll still get you a glass of lemonade, since it’s a hot day after all.”

You followed next to him as he walked towards where the staff were serving refreshments, paying for a single glass of lemonade and handing it to you, an expectant look on his face as he awaited your reply.

“You said you were a painter, is that correct?” you began, earning a tilt of the head from him, wondering where you were going with this.

“Yes, I am.”

“Could I pay a visit to your studio one day? You know, to see some of your paintings?”

If Mr Suh was surprised at your request (he was), he hadn’t shown it, simply looking at you with the same curiosity in his gaze, giving you a nod.

“You’re more than welcome to come by. I’m located near the flower shop by the market, the old space that used to belong to the… the wine merchant,” he told you, and with how much you frequented the market, you instantly knew the space he was referring to, already mapping out a route in your head that would allow you to visit his studio after you ran your errands on Monday.

Somehow, you couldn’t get used to the way he held your gaze, something about it making you feel as though you were frozen in your spot, unable to look elsewhere yet feeling as though you were too shy to return the same attention to him.

“I’d better be going now, wouldn’t want to worry my mother,” you fumbled out an excuse in your flustered state, giving him a nod before you’d left promptly, sipping on your lemonade in an attempt to cool the warmth in your face and neck.

===

Another thing worth noting, is that a lady like you is often placed in a very delicate situation. You may be distinguished by a kind of calculated attention to gain your affections, while it is impossible to know whether this attention will end in a serious declaration.

You didn’t manage to visit him once the week started, busy with your own errands that occupied your first few days of the week.

The next time you saw Mr Suh, it almost seemed like you were being guided towards each other. It was an odd moment on that Wednesday morning, something compelling you to look up from the yellow sunflowers you were talking to the old woman running the store about, turning your head to the right even though you weren’t quite looking for anything, your gaze coming to land on the man that you were almost hoping you would chance upon while in the area.

Seeing the way his eyebrows lifted in recognition, you gave him a small nod to signal that you were acquainted with him, a smile gracing his features as he stood before you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he remarked, earning a strangely shy smile from you, surprising yourself at the way you reacted towards him.

You hummed, “I’m here often, actually,” you admitted, your gaze flickering briefly to the sunflowers you were looking at before, your finger touching one of the soft petals absently.

“Is that so? Do you like flowers?”

You shrugged, “... the simple answer would be yes.”

Mr Suh surprised you with the way he’d gasped lightly, eyes widening with a hint of exaggerated dramatics, his hands in his pockets as he leaned over slightly, “Well, now that you’ve said it like that, you’ve gotten me curious about what the complex answer would be.”

You weren’t sure what came over you, or what was compelling you to go against your mother’s wishes of not entertaining men who weren’t those you danced with at balls.

Perhaps it was the way he conversed with you so smoothly, or the confident way he held himself, or even the way it seemed as though there was something inexplicable drawing you in through his gaze, telling you there was more to him than he was letting on. As if it would only continue to nag at your curiosity if you didn’t explore it.

“It is an answer I would easily offer to you if we were in a more conducive space,” you huffed in amusement, gesturing around to the various other market stalls, the grocers and the merchants yelling and ringing their bells as they bartered off their products.

Mr Suh felt it too, the strangest feeling in his gut that made him feel as though he were being prompted to get to know you more. As he looked at you now, in the silence of the flower shop with the old woman giving him a knowing look, he couldn’t deny that he was curious about your intentions, about what you could possibly be thinking by being so willing to acquaint yourself with a poor painter like him. It was oddly refreshing, and he could safely say you were the first lady to still treat him with such attention and respect after coming to know his social standing.

“Would you like to claim your reward now, then? I was just about to head back to my studio, we could have some tea before you head back?”

You frowned, knowing very well that as much as you would like that, you couldn’t very well do that now.

At the sight of your frown, Mr Suh sucked in a sharp breath, “Poor timing?”

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you nodded, “Unfortunately. I have to be at the church, I was supposed to get the new flower arrangements done for the altar and all…”

Mr Suh’s eyebrows lifted, nodding in understanding, it seemed there was even more he was curious about you now.

“Will you be playing the organ for the mass today too, dear?” the old woman asked, earning a hum from Mr Suh when you gave an affirmative nod.

“You know how to play?” he asked, earning an insistent hum from the old woman.

“ Very well , in fact,” she told him, and somehow you felt a strange sense of bashfulness under the praise of the old woman, though it wasn’t as if you were a stranger to hearing it from her.

Somehow, the fact that you were in the presence of Mr Suh as you heard it reminded you of the feeling you got when you were younger and your parents were entertaining guests, insisting that you play a piece for them. The feeling of all their eyes on you that filled you with the want to run off into your room, the only time you’d relaxed slightly was when you would centre your focus on the piano, the music being the distraction from their gazes on you.

The way Mr Suh looked at you, his curious gaze, somehow filled you with this sort of almost-panic, a panic that came with being so focused on, a sudden feeling of being exposed.

You didn’t have to worry about this with your family, knowing they were all focused on their own worries to pay such delicate attention to your affairs. Mr Suh, however, his gaze was intense, though it did not seem to possess the same intention to nit-pick like your mother, or the insistence of your father’s, or distraction of your sister’s. His could only be described as unadulterated curiosity .

“I’d love to hear it one day,” his lips curled into a small smile, “perhaps you could grant me the honour of hearing you play while I complete a commission at my studio.”

You huffed. Somehow the prospect of being able to be involved in the creation of art in such a way enticed you, and it left you feeling excited for the day to come.

“I would like that,” you told him, turning to the old woman and giving her a small nod to signal that you would like to take the flowers you ordered now.

“Would you like to take the ones for home now?” she asked, earning a shake of the head from you.

“No, thank you. I’ll come by later to collect those,” you told her with a smile, turning to Mr Suh and giving a small bow.

“I should be heading off now.”

Mr Suh huffed in amusement, “That sounds familiar,” there was a hint of mischief in his tone that made your lips part, a small scoff leaving you.

“Are you teasing me?” you couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped you, earning a smile from him.

“I mean no menace,” he continued, shaking his head, “I should be off as well…”

He let out a small sigh, the soft smile lingering on his features, “It was nice to see you here.”

You huffed, wanting to say more, but settling for a simple nod.

“When would be a good time for me to come by?” you decided to ask, earning a shrug from him.

“Whenever it suits you, I’m usually in the studio by the afternoon,” he spoke, earning a tilt of the head from you, prompting him to continue, “okay, how does Friday afternoon sound?”

You nodded, “Perfect.”

Bidding him goodbye, your breath hitched at the way his tone had lilted with the same calm confidence as he addressed you, your brain replayed the way he’d addressed you, wondering how his voice could make your name (something you figured you would have been so used to after all your years of living), sound as though it were being spoken to you for the first time.

You turned and left before you could tempt yourself to stay longer and forget about the flowers in your arms waiting to be displayed, though even the sunflowers seemed to twirl around to face him.

The giddiness fluttering within you remained as you sat by the stone bench preparing the flowers, the sound of the gentle flowing water of the fountain you were sitting beside somehow reminding you to still your heart, lest you get too carried away with the excitement you felt from your interactions with Mr Suh.

As you fixed the placement of one of the sunflowers, you let your gaze wander to the elderly woman who was a few benches away from you shaded underneath a large tree, looking at the arrangement of flowers you’d placed at the foot of one of the statues.

Observing her expression as she gazed at the flowers, you wondered what she was thinking about, what she was here for, perhaps even what she was praying for. You knew you weren’t a stranger to it even as you observed her, you had been here many times; out of desperation, out of boredom, out of joy, out of hopelessness.

You liked the freedom that came with being here, how you could essentially stay undisturbed due to the unspoken understanding that those who came here sought out that same solace and peace you did.

It was more of an escape at first, from the confines of your house and the myriad of books waiting to be read and re-read again. You weren’t sure when it started becoming a place you wished to return to willingly, like an escape you sought out because it became less of an escape and more of a shelter.

There was vulnerability and protection you found in being alone, in the thought that even if no one was being attentive to you, maybe a higher power was. This thought always pulled you into deeper reflection, it made you struggle with how comfortable and uncomfortable you were in this vulnerability. How perhaps you were comfortable with it because it wasn’t exactly tangible, yet how uncomfortable you felt with it because you knew that this desire for vulnerability, to be seen, known and loved in such a way was something that resonated deep within your soul, and perhaps it was never tangible to begin with.

Done with the main arrangement meant to be the centrepiece at the altar, you got up, dusting off your dress. Picking up the basket, you made your way down the aisle of the church till you were at the altar, placing the basket delicately onto the marbled floor before something compelled you to take a seat there on the floor of the aisle, looking up at nothing in particular.

“Do you recognise the painting?”

You turned your head in the direction of the sound, seeing the priest walking over to you from your left, earning a hum of confusion from you.

Gesturing above you to the direction you were staring in previously, he gave you a small smile, “You were staring at it, were you not?”

Turning your head to fix your gaze on the painting, you saw that it was a painting of a raging sea, a boat in the background with many people on it, but a man, and another who you assumed was the Lord on the water, the man looking desperate as he clung on to his saviour. Yet somehow, the way his saviour held him, you could sense the safety, the security present in his hold.

“Do you recall? That man, Peter, walked out onto the water when the Lord called him.”

You frowned, nothing about it made any logical sense, to put yourself in such a position of vulnerability, subject to drowning, subject to the harsh currents of the waves willingly .

“Why did he do that?” was all you could ask, reminded again of this vulnerability, and whether as you looked at this painting, you could see how there was protection in this vulnerability like you had felt before.

The priest could only huff in amusement, a deep sigh leaving him.

“Would you like the simple answer?” he asked, earning a sheepish smile from you.

“Would it be wrong of me to say yes?”

Shaking his head, the priest turned his gaze back to the painting, “Love.”

He did it for love?

Perhaps the answer you wanted really wasn’t for something tangible to begin with, you figured, because you felt his words resonate in your heart.

How willing were you to be vulnerable? And what were you willing to be vulnerable for?

“That sounds more like the complex answer,” you huffed, your hands fiddling with the fabric of your dress, picking off leaves that had stuck onto your dress while you made the flower arrangements.

Your words had only earned a laugh from the priest, the elderly man giving you a shrug.

“I suppose simple doesn’t mean simplistic.”

Sighing, you nodded, knowing you would be left pondering his words for the next God knows how long . And it was true, even as you played the organ for the mass that day, as you left the church grounds to make your way back to the flower market.

Even as you were greeted by a bouquet of hibiscus flowers the old woman said Mr Suh had left for you, the thought continued to stir your heart. His simple bouquet, which sparked a far-from-simplistic longing in your heart.

Were you willing to be vulnerable for something like love?

Perhaps only time would tell.

===

The third rule, a lady like you was not to engage in any activity that could give rise to gossip. A young, unmarried lady like you was never to be alone in the company of a gentleman outside of family and close family friends. Other than during a walk to church or to a park in the morning, a lady like you was not to even so much as walk outside without an appropriate companion.

“Where are you off to so early, Miss?” Your lady’s maid had asked in a hushed whisper, passing you the little biscuits you asked for her to help you retrieve from the kitchen without your mother noticing.

“To church,” you smiled, earning a surprised hum from her.

“I suppose this is the message you would like for me to relay if anyone were to ask for your whereabouts?” her tone was knowing, a hint of a smile playing at her lips as she handed you the makeshift bag she made using the cloth used to wrap your biscuits.

You smiled, nodding at her as you let out an exaggerated wistful sigh, “I cannot express how thankful I am to have you here. You’re an absolute breath of fresh air in this house.”

She huffed in amusement, shaking her head at you, glancing around the kitchen before lowering her voice to a mere murmur, “Will you be back late?”

You shook your head.

“I’ll be back in time for tea, I’m going to visit a painter.”

She gasped, a deadpan tone to her joking as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, “Need I get the chemicals ready to soak your dress when you return?”

You rolled your eyes in good-nature, a giggle leaving you in your embarrassment.

“I won’t make a mess of myself this time, I promise,” touching her arm, you told her with as serious a look as you could muster, earning a deep sigh from her.

You supposed it was warranted, she’d known you since you were a baby, it was only right that she’d grown accustomed to your rather clumsy nature.

“I’d rather you not make promises you can’t keep, Miss.”

“I’ll be good, I promise ,” you grinned, fighting your laughter as you saw her expression dripping with scepticism.

“I do miss your sister dearly, she was never one to keep me on my toes like you do. I’m always fighting for breath these days when I talk to the madam,” she let out a wistful sigh.

You huffed, already beginning to walk out of the kitchen, “Don’t miss me too much when I’m gone,” you waved, practically brisk walking out of your house and beginning on the route you had planned in your head since the day of the races.

Saying you were going to church wasn’t a complete lie. And it was important to note this, because you weren’t a very good liar to begin with, so details like these helped.

Walking into the church grounds, you’d initially planned on just walking through it as a shortcut to the market, but you couldn’t deny the little anxiousness within your heart that came with your excitement. Frankly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting from your meeting with Mr Suh later, though you knew there was a need to maintain a level of secrecy about it.

Perhaps it was the guilt from this secrecy that compelled you to make a little detour, sitting on the same bench you saw the elderly woman sitting at the other day.

Only when you were sitting in the same position as she was, you realised how different it felt to be sitting right in front of the little grotto. It felt much more like you were up-front instead of still having the pseudo-security of being a little further from the little altar.

Somehow, you found yourself listing out in your head the various things you’d planned on doing today, imagining (and perhaps hoping as well) that while you went about these things, this higher power would be watching over you, protecting you as you went about your day. The thought served to comfort you, and you found yourself feeling a little less nervous about seeing Mr Suh.

You wouldn’t have known that Mr Suh was equally if not more nervous than you were, finding himself agonising over which flowers he wished to gift you when you were to arrive.

The way the old woman mending the store was looking at him wasn’t helping much either, with her knowing looks and watchful gaze as she observed the flowers he leaned towards.

“Are you planning on getting them for Miss Y/N?” the woman finally asked after she seemed to have enough of his indecision.

Mr Suh nodded, “I was wondering if you could advise me on the meanings of the flowers?” he asked, earning a smile from the woman.

“My dear, there are far too many flowers here for me to advise you on all of them now. Perhaps you could tell me what you wish to convey, and I could help you pick the right flowers accordingly?”

Mr Suh hummed thoughtfully. He didn’t want something too forward, or something that would make you wonder what the special occasion was. At this point, all that was coming to mind was the image of your smile that he wished to have the honour of witnessing again. She does have a lovely smile.

“Yellow tulips, then!” the woman offered gleefully, making Mr Suh’s eyes widen. He was glad Jaehyun wasn’t here, he didn’t think he would be able to recover from his slip-up so easily if that was the case.

And so yellow tulips were what you were greeted with when you’d arrived at the studio, barely shutting the door behind you before you were greeted by the bright yellow that you found eliciting a smile from you without even noticing.

“Are these for me?” you asked, the nod he gave you making you stretch your fingers in your gloves before you accepted the flowers from him, noticing the lack of gloves on his hands.

“They couldn’t possibly be for me, I don’t think my smile is worthy of being compared to sunshine.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, feeling warmth travel to your face and neck as you averted your gaze.

“I’m… flattered to know you think mine is.”

That seemed to elicit a smile from him, rivalling his words from before with the way he was beaming at you, a little giggle leaving him.

“You can set them aside here in the meantime, I was just in the middle of working on a small piece,” he told you, taking the flowers from you to set them in a makeshift vase. A little cup with dried paint on its mouth and exterior filled with clear water.

“What of?” you glanced at the canvas on the easel in front of a tall stool, not being able to distinguish the markings on the canvas, seeming to be in its early stages of creation.

Waiting for his reply, you took the opportunity to look around the studio. It was cleaner than you expected it to be, with how it was left unoccupied by the previous landlord for as long as you could remember.

You noticed the carpets over various parts of the floor, the patterns resembling the ones you had at home. There were various tables around the room, used more for temporary storage than for display, housing various sketches on loose pieces of paper and card. Even so, the sketches were of various landscapes and nature.

There were no statues here, contrary to what you expected, mainly bowls of fruits and flowers that you assumed were for still-life paintings or sketches. It wasn’t furnished anything like you imagined a typical painter’s studio to look like. You’d expected more statues of human figures, more artwork of people or portraits. The most life you detected in the room other than him and the bowls of fruits and flowers was the piano sitting at the side of the room.

He stood in front of a tall easel that rested on a large cloth over the carpet to catch any mess that could ruin the rug. Next to the easel, there was a small table with his palette, and a little glass jar he used for water, a set of what you identified as watercolours next to the jar.

“Your expression is making me curious. Penny for your thoughts?”

You hummed, shaking your head when you decided against voicing out your thoughts. You wouldn’t want to risk offending him.

Mr Suh seemed undeterred, simply tilting his head at you curiously, “What seems to be stopping you from telling me?”

Daring yourself to glance at him in surprise at his forwardness, you shook your head, “No, no, I just… I don't want to speak out of turn.”

Expecting him to simply nod and move on to another topic, you were even more surprised when he huffed in amusement, dismissing your worries with his gentle gaze.

“I can assure you, I won’t expect you to bear the consequences for my feelings.”

Walking over to the tall easel where he stood, you pressed your lips together and mustered whatever courage you had to be honest with your thoughts. Something about his reassurance told you it was safe to allow yourself that much in this space.

“I was just thinking that… your studio doesn’t look like what I expected it to look like,” you began, earning a nod from him, prompting you to continue, “I expected… more… you know, life .”

Mr Suh’s expression remained calm and confident as always, as if he’d expected you to have pointed it out at one point.

“I understand why you may think that,” he huffed with a smile.

“Was it intentional?” you asked, “the focus on landscapes?”

He nodded, his gaze fixed on yours, the attentiveness he offered to you once again feeling foreign, yet somehow reassuring.

“I don’t do portraits. And I know it sounds foolish, considering they make more money than paintings of nature and whatnot. But it’s somewhat of a… personal philosophy , I suppose.”

Sensing your confusion, he huffed in amusement, continuing, “I find there is much more life to be found in nature that we overlook. When we’re not so concerned with… you know,” you met his gaze again, the same captivating feeling rendering your attention only fixed on him, “material things.”

You nodded, his words striking a chord with you, remembering the many conversations you had with your sister on your worries about your debut, about whether you would be accomplished enough, presentable enough, respectable enough. When the desire, that intangible desire that resonated within you remained; the want to be seen, known and loved for your soul, unaffected by money or status.

“It’s hard to be unconcerned with that in this society,” you huffed, earning a nod from him.

“I suppose a lady like you has no choice but to be concerned about it,” he murmured, earning a sigh from you.

“I wish I didn’t have to be.”

Mr Suh gave you a soft smile, “At least… you don’t have to be while you’re here.”

You hadn’t noticed you were smiling, something about his words making a wave of relief wash over you. Like a breath of fresh air, to hear that he wasn’t expecting you to be your mother’s daughter while you were here. The little invitation behind his words was enough to make you want to laugh. You were almost wondering why you’d felt so nervous to come here just a while ago.

Making your way to the piano, you took a seat in front of it, still failing to stifle your smile, turning to him with a nod.

“I… I’m afraid I like that offer a little too much.”

And so that was what the studio became for you, a place where you were free to be alone yet share in the company of another, to allow for the creation of art within the space that you came to realise held more life than you initially thought.

There was life found in the sound of the music that filled the walls, life found in the way Mr Suh’s brush would dance over the canvas, bringing colours alive with his fluid movements, life found in the little sparks of excitement and understanding when you would glance over at each other ever so often.

“I like that piece the most,” Mr Suh told you as you were preparing to leave, holding out the last honey biscuit to him for him to take. Pinching it between his fingers, he popped it into his mouth.

“You do?”

He nodded, swallowing the last of the biscuit in his mouth as he smiled, “It happens to be my favourite.”

Something about that knowledge made you see the piece in a different light, not having expected him to choose that of all the ones you played that day.

Something about it was almost ironic, the meaning of the piece being to cast away earthly pleasures for a greater, spiritual love. It made you think about whether the intangible desire in your heart resonated in his as well.

Unfortunately, that little moment was cut short when Mr Suh had taken out a small pouch that jingled in an all-too-familiar way, reminding you of your father’s study.

“What’s this?” he set the pouch in your free hands, taking the empty cloth used to hold your honey biscuits and folding it neatly for you.

Mr Suh hummed, “Take it as… pin money. I wouldn’t have been able to complete those paintings without the beautiful music you played.”

Before you could refuse, he shook his head, “I insist, really. If you won’t accept it for the music, accept it for the biscuits.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you huffed, taking the now neatly folded cloth back from him.

“You’re not going to take it back regardless, aren’t you?”

The grin he sent your way was enough to make your knees feel weak.

“You’re a quick learner, Miss Y/N,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

Again, the feeling akin to a gentle brushstroke on canvas, unassuming, yet permanent with the way the colour stood out against the white.

“Will I be seeing you again soon?” he dared to ask, and you found yourself almost breathless as you searched for an appropriate reply.

“Do you wish to?”

Mr Suh wasn’t sure what came over him either. It was akin to an inner knowing, a gut feeling, an unmistakable intuitive feeling that told him not to fight the fact that he was drawn to you, the fact that he wanted to know you more. So, he decided not to fight it, as risky as the decision felt to him.

“I do, if you are consenting.”

You huffed, amusement in the way the smile played at your lips, nodding at him. “Then you will see me again tomorrow.”

It became an unspoken agreement of sorts, for you to visit him in the mornings until it was time for you to return home for tea, blaming your happiness or giddiness on a particularly blessed time of prayer, or the time you took to get back home on the time you would ‘stay back’ in the church grounds on your own.

Though your father didn’t mind, always having excused you whenever it came to matters of religion, your mother didn’t like it. She wouldn’t hesitate to express how she felt it wasn’t necessary for you to be devoting so much of your time to going to church when you had better things to do, like brushing up on your piano playing, refining your needlework skills or reading and internalising more conduct books.

They wouldn’t know that the real reason behind your departure from home lay behind the (now many) flowers pressed between the pages of your many conduct books. Each one attached to a special memory of Mr Suh’s bouquets he gifted to you during your visits, the arrangements handpicked by him and unlike any you’d seen or made before.

Though it was no secret that Mr Suh enjoyed your company and conversation, there was always a little nagging in his head that would return every now and then. It was as if its purpose was to remind him of who you were in society. It would return whenever he heard gossip in the market the morning after a ball, or chatter from bachelors in a local bar. It served as a reminder that no matter how close the both of you were getting, you were still a lady, who could be subject to such gossip and chatter if you weren’t careful.

“You’re risking your virtue each time you come out here to see me, you are aware of that right?" He spoke, while you were engrossed in sifting through his various sketches, finding ones to display on the walls of his studio.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, holding up a sketch of a tall, sturdy-looking tree planted by the water.

"And what is virtue to you, the man who keeps inviting me here?" you hummed.

Mr Suh narrowed his eyes at you, albeit amused at your witty reply.

"I meant without a chaperone."

You sighed, almost instinctively assuming the disposition you would when you were being nagged by your mother.

“I think it’s a little belated for you to be telling me this,” you muttered, still distracted by his sketches, your hands reaching up over your head to see what it would look like higher up on the wall.

“Miss Y/N,” his tone was firmer than usual, insistent for you to pay attention.

“Hmm? How do you think this would look up here?” you thought out loud, not having noticed him getting up from his stool to walk over to you, his hand reaching out to pin the paper you were holding against the wall with apparent ease, making you come down from your tip-toes.

Turning around, you were shocked at how close he was, your eyes widening and taking a step back.

“Are you listening?”

In your surprise, you sputtered out whatever made sense to you in your head.

“Right, yes. Chaperoning.”

This had only managed to earn a quirked eyebrow from Mr Suh, “Yes… chaperoning …”

“You understand the need for it, don’t you?” he continued, insistence in his tone.

You huffed, “Don’t you think we’re past that by now? My parents are too caught up with whatever their latest worry is. If anything, they're relieved I'm finding something to occupy myself with. I’d only be a nuisance if I remained at home.”

Mr Suh relaxed his arm, grasping the sketch in his hand as he lowered his arm to his side.

“You’re avoiding the point. How can you be so sure that you trust me?” His eyebrows furrowed, seeming as if he were in disbelief that it was possible. You didn’t understand that.

You shook your head.

“I’m not,” you met his gaze, his eyes that shone a beautiful hazel in the sunlit space of his studio, “that is up to you to show me who you are, and up to me to be discerning about it.”

His gaze softened, making you feel prompted to continue.

“I am very aware of my stand in society, if that is what you are asking. But didn’t we agree? That this would be a place where that doesn’t matter?”

Mr Suh’s expression was pensive, his lips pressed into a firm line as he searched your gaze for something unknown to him, “Forgive me, I am simply concerned for you. It would do you no good to be seen with a man like me.”

You sighed, ducking down to take the sketch from his hand and glancing at it, the sketch of the tree planted beside the water.

You let out a huff of amusement, “Be kinder to yourself, Mr Suh. I’m not being forced to be here. Your company has been more enjoyable than any man I have come across.”

Sensing he was taken aback by your words, you decided to change the subject.

“You have many sketches of places I have never seen before. Were they all places you’ve visited?” you asked, using a simple glue to attach just the top of the sketch to the wall, not wanting to ruin it if you decided you wanted to take it down.

Mr Suh cleared his throat, “Yes, they were all from my travels, or some of the places I remember visiting.”

Humming, you picked up the other sketch you planned on displaying as well, amusing Mr Suh (and perhaps making his heart flutter) with how seriously you regarded his sketches, even if most of them were done on a whim.

“They seem like lovely places. What made you come here, then? I wouldn’t say this area is as lovely as what I've been seeing in your sketches.”

Huffing, Mr Suh’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips, a relaxed nature in the way he watched you go about your movements, “My father passed. This was uh… his birthplace.”

At that, you turned to face him, tilting your head at him as your gaze softened.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Letting out a huff of laughter that bordered on bitterness, he shook his head in dismissal, “There’s no need to be sorry. We were not that close.”

Frowning, you let out a small sound of disagreement.

“It’s not a crime, you know? There’s no rule that says you aren’t allowed to grieve simply because you weren’t close to him.”

Mr Suh felt a little wave of comfort reach him at your words, comfort that he didn’t realise he needed until the words left your lips and graced his ears. It left him feeling strangely grateful. Not just for your words, but for your heart which allowed you to feel so sensitively for others.

“Thank you,” was all he could muster, earning a soft smile from you.

“What was your relationship like? You know, to your father?” you dared yourself to ask, sensing that it would do him some good to talk about it.

“He was strict with me when I was growing up… actually, he was a rather quiet man, a contrast to my personality. I always found I was more similar to my mother, more… expressive,” there was a gentle smile on his features at the mention of his mother, something about it making you want to hear more.

“I was more comfortable talking to my mother, and naturally she was more involved in my activities and whatnot while I was growing up… it’s a bit strange now that I think of it. Even while she called me her own little nicknames and terms of endearment, it felt more comfortable for me to hear that as opposed to my own name, only my father called me that. But even though that was the case, it still felt awkward hearing it from him.”

You nodded, your attentiveness prompting him to continue.

“I don’t regret it, though. It wasn’t as though we had a bad relationship, it just felt… a bit more formal, less playful than the one I had with my mother.”

“That’s what matters, I suppose, that you have no regrets,” you shrugged.

Mr Suh nodded, “That’s what I thought, as well. My duty now is just to… carry on, I suppose.”

You nodded.

“Awfully wise of you,” you quipped, earning a smile from him.

“Of course, I thought you would’ve known that about me by now,” he teased, earning an eye roll from you, though there was no menace behind the gesture.

You huffed, “I can only imagine what you were like as a child,” you murmured, your imagination getting the better of you.

The look on his face made it seem as though he were recalling his childhood, huffing a small laugh as he shook his head, “I don’t think I’ve changed much, to be honest.”

The honesty of your next words surprised you.

“You must’ve been the loveliest little boy, then. I’m sure of it.”

The smile you received in return was new, tinted with bashfulness unlike the usual calm and confident exterior you were used to seeing. He averted his gaze, poorly stifling his smile before looking back at you and shaking his head.

“You’ve got a dangerous way with words, Miss Y/N,” he sighed, though his smile lingered on his features.

“Of course, I thought you would’ve known that about me by now,” you recalled his words, using them to tease him in the same lilting way that he did, though he was sure the effect you had on him was much worse, his laughter bubbling out of him without restraint, his hand reaching out to grab the table next to him in a poor attempt to steady himself.

You were growing to like it, this honesty that was growing in how the both of you were showing up to each other. Honesty that wasn’t hidden behind etiquette rules or social ‘do’s and ‘don’t’s. What you and him were experiencing with each other felt authentic, unfiltered.

Sure it may have been frowned upon, it may have been deemed risky or dangerous, but in moments like these where all you could focus on was his smile and the way it warmed your heart. Conduct books be damned, looking at him now, you couldn’t find it in you to care.

===

Another important thing for a lady like you to note, is that whatever your views are in marrying, you should take every possible precaution to prevent their being disappointed.

“How was yesterday’s ball?”

You grimaced, your playing slowing down, the melody taking a more melancholic turn, “I’d rather not talk about that.”

“Was it that terrible?” he laughed, busy with sorting aside his tools and paints. Today was more of an ‘inventory day’, it seemed.

You groaned, stopping your playing altogether, “Perhaps it would’ve been more bearable if you were there. Then at least I wouldn’t have to torture myself listening to countless men tell me how much they preferred a demure, quiet young lady with better birthing hips than I had.”

Mr Suh didn’t bother trying to hide his amusement, letting his laughter bubble out freely as you tried to make your glare firm, though the more he laughed, the more it helped you find some sort of amusement in the memory.

“I think your hips are fine,” he spoke, though the moment the words left him you could see him press his lips together firmly, a laugh threatening to spill out.

Scoffing, you couldn’t help but laugh as well, “My sister would perish if she heard you say that.”

“Perish because I’m right? Though, I’m not so sure I could say the same about you being demure or quiet, unfortunately,” he told you knowingly, making you scoff.

“I’d like to argue with you, but even I can’t argue with that,” you sighed, turning your body on the cushioned seat and closing the lid of the piano so you could lean against it.

“Has there really been nobody trying to… court you?” he asked, more out of curiosity than out of an actual want for you to say that there has been. God knows he didn’t want that.

You sighed, bringing one arm up to rest against the top of the piano, using your gloved hand to support your head as you looked at him busying himself with sorting out what he could keep and what needed to be disposed of.

“It’s… difficult to explain. I know eligibility is one thing, background, status, wealth, the lot ,” you huffed, gesturing with your free hand as you spoke, something you were sure your mother would’ve chided you for if she was here, “but it's awfully difficult to grow attached to any of these men… they seem to have an image of me in their minds that they aren’t willing to compromise.”

Mr Suh looked up from his paint, sensing your frustration that you were struggling to keep hidden, deciding to sit on the stool and show that he was listening, his hands finding their way to his pockets once again.

“It’s as though I’m not allowed to be anyone else other than the perfect wife they’ve conjured up in their heads… how can you expect me to want that? To… to want to feel lonely in a conversation? To want to just constantly feel underestimated and misinterpreted . When I think of marriage, of a life with someone…” you glanced at him, averting your gaze to the floor, “I think of offering them my heart, but I don’t think of doing that to be met with money and a loveless house in return.”

You turned your head, adjusting it so you could support your head more comfortably, holding Mr Suh’s gaze as he looked at you, an understanding shared in his silence that you never appreciated more.

You knew that within this unspoken understanding, you had to acknowledge that things were different here from how they were at the ball. Now, as you were in this space, under his gaze, you weren’t underestimated, you weren’t being ‘sheltered’ from anything deemed too much for you. Mr Suh let you be yourself here, receiving you graciously as you were, and you were starting to truly appreciate that.

“The marriage market is truly lonelier than it seems,” he sighed.

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing, just… from what you tell me. Am I mistaken?”

You huff, shaking your head, “Definitely not. I’d be better off having more stimulating conversations with a priest than any of the men I spoke to last night.”

Mr Suh couldn’t help the laughter that escaped him at the image you put in his head, “A priest? Not even me?”

You rolled your eyes, “That goes without saying, it’s obvious I much prefer talking to you.”

Mr Suh couldn’t help the way his heart felt like it slowed at your words, the way it felt like he was finally taking a deep breath after a while of not breathing. It was refreshing, seeing someone so honest and unashamed of their feelings and thoughts like you were. He found he had come to like that about you. Very much.

“Speaking of priests, do you really go to church in the mornings? Or is that just limited to an excuse you use to sneak off here,” he gave you a teasing smile, making you huff, shaking your head at him.

“I do, sometimes.”

“For the flower arrangements?” he asked, recalling the time you had met at the flower market.

Shaking your head, “Not just for that. But that wasn’t how it started.”

Mr Suh hummed, his eyebrows lifting as he prompted you to continue.

“It’s… well, it sounds a little funny but I used to wander around the neighbourhood as an excuse to leave the house… My parents never really noticed because they were busy with my sister’s debut and family business affairs at the time, but my father would always excuse me if I said it was to visit the church,” you huffed, “I liked it, actually. There was something so… peaceful, about the church grounds.”

“I suppose it didn’t feel like I was just wandering around whenever I went there, because I could see all sorts of things and people… people in their desperation, their hope, in their vulnerability… somewhat like I was when I was watching them,” you averted your gaze to the vase of white lilies that sat on top of the little round table he had near him, reminding you of your sister, “there was a period around last year, if I recall correctly. My sister was going through a difficult time, and I was worried sick about her… my role in the family was always to just occupy myself with my own whims and fancies, to be kept out of the loop because they were afraid I couldn’t handle the truth of things. But I knew what was happening.”

Mr Suh nodded, “Did something happen to her?”

You nodded, “The family was at risk of being in debt because of a man my mother was trying to marry her off to while she was in love with someone else, who we weren’t sure was ever going to return to town. Honestly, the situation didn’t seem very hopeful at the time, and I had to just keep pretending I didn’t know what was happening when I was in front of my parents.”

“It was scary, to see how she almost married into a lie.”

Glancing at Mr Suh, you were surprised to find his gaze still on you, attentive, patient, reassuring. You shifted in your seat, your hands in your lap as you fiddled with your fingers and your gloves.

“It grew difficult, obviously, to be always finding ways to feel useful and overcompensating at home because I felt so helpless, so I would go off to the church as a sort of escape, you know? A place where I didn’t have to be ‘doing’, a place where I could just… feel what I was feeling.”

Humming, Mr Suh nodded, “It was safe there,” he commented, earning a nod from you.

“I suppose my loitering grew obvious,” you huffed in amusement, “because one day the priest just came up to me and asked me if I was alright, you know, if there was anything I needed.”

“So, I told him how I was feeling—again, I’m not very sure what compelled me to do that, but it felt natural, I suppose, since I felt safe there—and I asked him what a person in my position could do. And he told me something really interesting… he said faith is nothing without trust, and … at the heart of trust is to be vulnerable. That was all I could do, to let myself be vulnerable and trust that what I was doing for my sister was enough, even if I didn’t feel like it was.”

Mr Suh nodded, your words seeming to resonate with him again, the similar desires within your hearts to be vulnerable and be protected and loved in this vulnerability that came with baring your heart and soul to another.

“I suppose that was how it started, because it made me realise that I wanted that. I was busy telling myself that I couldn’t because I would feel helpless, but I wanted to allow myself to be who I was, to feel all that I felt and be seen in all of that, and to know what it is like to be loved for that, to be supported in that. But… I suppose that is the dilemma I have found myself in,” you laughed, “searching for all of that in a place as ruthless as the marriage market when I couldn’t even seem to find it from my own parents.”

The questions continued to circle in your head as you looked at Mr Suh, wondering what he was thinking after hearing your tiring monologue. Your mother always told you you had far too many words, no man would be bothered to listen to you. But for some reason, you hoped that if anyone were to, Mr Suh would.

“Miss Y/N,” he began, the gentleness to his tone paralysing you again, as if grasping you by the shoulders and forcing you to look at him, “I cannot promise you much… but you make me want to promise you all that I have. Even if it is this modest space, I want to promise you that it is safe for you.”

Somehow, that was enough for you.

A warmth had flooded you, sending warmth to your eyes, a lump forming in your throat that made you feel as though you were dipping your fingers into the depths of this vulnerability you were entering with him.

You gave him a soft smile, your unspoken expression that it was enough.

Somehow, that was enough for him.

Straightening up in your seat, you let out a deep sigh, “But you are right, I can think of far much more excitement to be found elsewhere than debutante balls.”

Mr Suh quirked an eyebrow at you, not minding the fact that you changed the subject so abruptly judging from the amusement in his smirk, “Is that so? Enlighten me.”

“Perhaps I shall write a scandal sheet!” you exclaimed, even if you didn’t mean it.

Always quick to bounce off of your words, Mr Suh scoffed, “You don’t need an excuse to write about me.”

Not being able to help the laugh that bubbled out of you, you gasped, “How did you know? I already had an article prepared: ‘ Local painter is too flirtatious for his own good’ .”

Mr Suh laughed, getting up from his stool to make his way over to the little table sat against the wall, your curiosity getting the better of you as you made your way over to where he was, peering over curiously at the various bottles of things he had on the table.

“What are these for?”

Pointing at the little bottles he had, labelled in a scrawl you weren’t focused enough to decipher, he spoke, “These are bottles of pigments. I don’t have an assistant or an apprentice or anything like that, so I usually like to make my oil paints myself since I only need them in smaller quantities at a time. It’s quite therapeutic actually.”

“Is it difficult to make?”

Sensing your curiosity, Mr Suh smiled, a certain playfulness to his gaze, “Nothing you can’t handle. Do you want to try?”

Excited by the offer, you nodded, seeing him start to bring out the various things you would need, lifting a granite slab you were sure you would’ve had difficulty lifting onto a long table behind you, followed by another block of granite that was long and flat at the bottom, looking somewhat like a cone but without the sharp edge of it.

Taking out two small bottles the size of his palm, he made his way over to you, “This is what gives it the colour,” he pointed at one of the bottles, opening it to reveal an earthy brown colour.

“There’s others, but I wanted to make this one, so I suppose you could help me with that instead.”

You nodded, eager for him to get on with explaining the process to you, bubbling with excitement from how long it’d been since you got to do anything involving paint.

“I’ll help you add the oil, and then you can start to use the muller to work it into the pigment.”

“I’m sorry, the what?” you furrowed your eyebrows, earning giggles from Mr Suh.

“Perhaps I should just show you, I think that would be better. But before I do that,” he stopped himself, turning to his easel and picking up the apron that hung from its side, your eyes widening as he held it by the neck, “May I?”

You nodded, wordless as he draped the apron over you while facing you, his gaze intent and maybe even slightly amused at your expression as he let his hands find the strings at the sides, your breath hitching as he reached them around your waist to tie them in a loose knot behind your back, his proximity sending shivers down your spine. Trying to calm your nerves, you took off your gloves, setting them onto the table.

“There, you may proceed,” his tone was teasing as ever, letting you continue as you folded the oil into the paint using the little paint knife like how he had shown you before. His hands had moved with practised and controlled strength, unlike yours, who simply enjoyed the sensation and malleability of the paint.

“You can use the muller now,” he pointed at the block of granite that sat on top of the slab, sitting on the stool near you and watching you as you worked.

Under his gaze, it didn’t feel as though he were watching because he didn’t trust you with the pigment, but quite the opposite, as he watched you with a relaxed demeanour, a hint of a smile playing at his features.

You weren’t sure how long you were working the muller into the paint, but you were definitely developing a newfound respect for whoever did this as a job. Though you did see why it was therapeutic, you felt weak as you heaved the muller around, wanting to laugh as you imagined how you must look.

“What an honour it is, to have the diamond of the first water making oil paint for me,” Mr Suh lilted, making you huff, using your forearm to dab at the sweat that formed on your temple, continuing with the rhythmic movements you were growing used to.

“You’re awfully mistaken, I’m not the diamond.”

Expecting him to tell you he was joking, you should’ve known Mr Suh had an equally, if not more dangerous way with his words than you did.

“Is that so? The queen’s judgement is clearly not to be trusted, then… I know that much as I’m looking at you now.”

Your breath hitched, recovering quickly as you continued your movements, lifting the block to scrape the paint off the edges and collect it on the slab so you could continue to work it in.

“Are you teasing me?” you scoffed, laughing in spite of yourself.

Mr Suh, however, remained sincere, the slightest of smiles on his face, “Not in the slightest bit.”

You weren’t sure how to react, his words flustering you to no end, but you spoke your mind nonetheless.

“You’re funny, saying that to me while I’m performing an act like this. I can’t imagine how un-ladylike this must look,” you huffed, amused in a way that made Mr Suh smile without knowing.

“Not quite, something about the way you do it is very… graceful,” he hummed, “perhaps you would have to be in my position to understand what I mean.”

Turning to face him, your eyebrows lifted in scepticism, “Let us swap places, then. Though, I doubt it would be the same. You’re much more experienced than I am.”

Always agreeable to your little suggestions, Mr Suh stood up, making his way over to you as you padded over to the stool he sat on before, watching him pick up where you left off.

Your only thought was that he was right. He was right, he was absolutely right.

Watching him as he mulled the paint, you found yourself captivated once again, if he thought you were graceful, you wished you could show him what he looked like. There was a certain seriousness he tapped into the moment he stepped up to the table, the gravity with which he regarded his craft, the sincerity he put into it. It attracted you, quite simply.

Your gaze wandered over to his arms, his hands, the strength they held, making the block of granite look much smaller than when you held it, you figured. It was strength, in its most gentle, practised form. A strength that did not destroy, but that created.

Something about that thought added to the feelings you associated with the studio, that it was a space of safety, unlike the many debutante balls and soirées you attended. You were starting to wonder if it was the space that made you feel that way, or the presence of Mr Suh within it. After all, it was him that encouraged you to be honest, to be yourself, to try things because he believed you were capable.

In short, you felt seen.

“Are you alright?” you hadn’t realised you were staring, Mr Suh tilting his head at you curiously.

You shook your head, clearing your throat gently in an attempt to conceal your embarrassment, standing up from the stool and stretching your hand out to him.

“Can I try again?”

He smiled, already stepping aside to let you take your place at the table.

===

Other rules to help a lady like you squelch the possibilities of romantic passion included forbidding the use of Christian names, paying compliments, and any kind of intimate contact.

“What’s this?” you touched a leatherbound book, secured closed with a string around the middle that sat on the table where you’d placed a fresh vase of salmon coloured roses from Mr Suh.

Mr Suh turned around from where he was standing at his easel, setting the piece of charcoal in his hands down when he saw what you were looking at, quickly making his way over (borderline stumbling) as he took the book gently from your hands.

You had grown comfortable with each other, having no qualms about entering deeper conversation, about embarrassing yourselves with each other, revealing deeper parts of yourself to each other, so it was safe to say that his reaction confused you.

“Is it your diary?” you asked, eyes lighting up with a hint of mischief that Mr Suh found hard to remain firm against.

Giving you a huff, he held the book behind his back with one arm, “It might as well be.”

“So, it's not a diary? A notebook, then?” you asked, almost feeling like you were playing a game with how naturally your guesses were coming out, the childlike side of yourself resurfacing and making itself comfortable in Mr Suh’s presence.

He nodded, “it’s my sketchbook.”

You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, “... that I am not allowed to see?”

Swallowing thickly, Mr Suh huffed, a hint of embarrassment in the way he averted his gaze just briefly, looking back at you and shaking his head.

“What you ask of me… is not as simple as you make it seem,” he began, letting out a small sigh, “I would be baring my heart to you, quite plainly.”

You weren’t sure why the thought of that made you wonder just what was inside his sketchbook. He insisted himself that he did not do portraits, so just what sort of sketches could be within that book that made him so hesitant to show you? You wondered what sketches could possibly hold pieces of his heart so clearly that he felt the need to protect it in such a way.

“Is that such a horrifying thing?” You asked, genuinely curious, “you seem to have no problem flaunting it on your sleeve.”

At your words, Mr Suh let out a huff of amusement, his lips pressed together as his expression turned more serious, almost speechless as he shook his head.

“Not quite… you’ve been the only one able to see it thus far,” his words came out in a soft murmur, solidifying the thoughts that wavered in your heart.

It was almost like a declaration of intimacy, something stirring within you at the reminder that your relationship with Mr Suh was more than just acquaintances, solidified by friendship and understanding, but entering into much more.

You shook your head, “Only because you have dared to show it to me.”

The look on Mr Suh’s face was unreadable, as if he had a million thoughts circling his mind that prevented him from settling on one emotion. And there you stood, oblivious to the fact that he was experiencing that same paralysing feeling of not being able to focus on anything other than you.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I cannot show it to you yet,” he sighed, sounding more disappointed than you were. He should’ve known you weren’t one to dwell on it, though, respecting his wishes.

“I understand,” you assured him, “Well, if you won’t let me see your sketchbook, what will you let me see?”

Mr Suh’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, a soft smile gracing his features, humming in thought.

“I suppose I could draw something for you now?” he offered, earning a smile from you as what you supposed was a reckless (genius) idea came to mind.

“Could you draw it on me?”

Mr Suh’s lips parted, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him or whether you’d actually said what he thought you did.

“Hmm?”

You nodded, “I said I want you to draw it on me.”

Whether it was bold or reckless, you wouldn’t very well put a label on it at the moment. What you did know, however, was that this was definitely going against anything a ‘respectable lady like you’ should have been doing. It was different, you felt, from simply asking if he could draw you. It was like you said, a kind of vulnerability and trust you were willing to offer to him, for him to print his art onto your skin, something only the both of you would be able to see.

Mr Suh’s throat felt dry, looking at you blankly and keeping his volume lowered because he felt as though his voice would give, “Uh… where, where exactly would you want it?”

You debated on your options as you looked at him. You wanted it somewhere where you could keep it hidden, where your mother wouldn’t be able to see it as easily.

You knew that ruled out your hands and arms, since your mother’s gaze was always scanning you during mealtimes and when you played the piano, when your hands and arms weren’t hidden by your gloves.

Your only other thought was to have it on your ankle, since that would be somewhere only you or your lady's maid would ever see, your mother didn’t very well pay attention to little details like that when it came to you, as long as what was noticeable wasn’t out of line.

“Sorry, I realise I didn’t bother asking you if you were comfortable with it first,” you huffed, giving him a sheepish smile, feeling your heart stop at the smile he gave you.

“Believe me, Miss Y/N, if I were uncomfortable with it, I would have told you by now,” he huffed, amusement in his smile as he retrieved his inkstand and quill.

Only when he sat on the rug in front of you did you realise just what you had gotten yourself into, something about the proximity between the both of you was tempting. It felt close, yet in a way that made you desire to be even closer to him, both in the literal and figurative sense.

Swallowing, you shifted in your seat, glancing up at him with a nervousness that wasn’t quite present just moments before.

“Have you decided where, or what you would like me to draw?” he asked, crossing his legs as he leaned his palm against the floor to support his weight, the same calm confidence that made you feel shy under his gaze.

You nodded, “On my ankle.”

You watched the way he glanced at said ankle, covered by your stocking and your foot that was still covered by your shoe, blinking up at you before nodding.

“Somewhere… only I get to see.”

At that, Mr Suh smiled, “And is there anything in particular you would like me to draw?”

Now it was your turn to smile, already excited to see what he would come up with, what he would associate with you.

“I’ll let you decide that.”

His eyebrows lifted, the image coming to mind almost immediately.

Giving you a nod, he had barely registered what you were doing as you removed one of your shoes, averting his gaze and pretending to be busy with his ink as you started to remove one of your stockings, his gaze landing on the ribbon garter you had used to hold it up, tossing it aside as you worked on removing the silk stocking.

Mr Suh let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, looking at his fingernails and then at the ribbon again, at your face and then at the stocking you now tossed aside next to the ribbon, unsure where to place his gaze out of respect for you.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to your now uncovered leg peeking out from under the hem of your dress.

Nodding, he reached one of his hands out to grasp your ankle, the feeling of the warmth of his hands on your skin surprising you, your breath hitching just slightly and hoping he hadn’t noticed.

You lifted your foot off of the ground to help him, surprised when he’d set your ankle on one of his thighs, understanding that the angle would make it easier for him and more comfortable for you.

Mr Suh let out a small huff of amusement at the way you’d flinched when the quill had touched your skin.

“Sorry, it was a little ticklish,” you huffed, the unfamiliar sensation distracting you from your nervousness slightly.

You heard him sigh, his gaze still trained on whatever drawing he was working on.

“Miss Y/N,” he began, the tone with which he said your name making you soften, almost forgetting about your nervousness as you looked at him, humming in response, “I do hope you are not as willing to offer yourself to just any man in such a manner.”

Your lips parted in shock, bashfulness creeping up on you again as you huffed, trying to mask your embarrassment with your words, “Do you suppose I should only make such an offer to you?”

Mr Suh glanced up at you, detecting the little hint of challenge in your tone, his hand resting on where he was holding your ankle to keep it steady, his thumb smoothing over the skin unconsciously (or consciously, you wouldn’t have known).

“My honest answer?” he spoke, his gaze searching yours with that same calm confidence of his, “is yes.”

Your stare was blank, in spite of the many thoughts racing in your mind.

“You can rest assured, Mr Suh,” you murmured, suddenly feeling disappointed at the fact you did not know his first name, feeling as though addressing him so formally sounded off in a situation like this, “you are the only one I would trust with myself like this.” So intimately.

Mr Suh poorly stifled the smile on his face as he tilted his head down, continuing with his drawing as you tried to calm your heart.

“Actually, if you don’t mind me asking…” you murmured, swallowing as you mustered up your courage in spite of your shyness, “what is your first name?”

Mr Suh replied naturally, as if not giving it a second thought as you felt the ticklish feeling of the quill against the delicate skin of your ankle.

“Youngho,” he murmured.

You hummed, clenching your fist to prevent yourself from shifting from the ticklish feeling.

“Youngho,” you echoed, feeling the ticklish feeling stop almost instantly.

You felt his grip on your ankle tense before relaxing, looking up from your ankle and blinking at you slowly, his expression unreadable but rendering you speechless with how he was looking at you.

Letting out a shaky breath, it didn’t register to you why he was so taken aback, your mind racing to the conduct books, wondering if it was because addressing him by his name like this was too intimate, too personal. Only then did your mind recall the conversation you had about his father, figuring that must have been why he seemed so shocked.

“Sorry,” you blurted out, “I forgot about what you said about your father—”

“No, no,” Youngho shook his head, reassurance in his expression and his tone, “... I want you to call me that.”

Your eyebrows lifted, feeling as though something was being unlocked between the both of you, as if now it wasn’t just dipping your fingers into the depth of what you both desired, but stepping in, fully knowing what you were getting into with the action.

“Will you call me by my first name as well?”

Youngho nodded slowly, “Do you want me to?”

You nodded, not even being able to find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how quickly you responded.

“I do.”

Youngho hummed, “then I will, Y/N .”

Somehow, hearing it like that, spoken so delicately, spoken so intentionally by him, it was as if he were giving you more reason to fall in love with hearing your name again.

It felt like it had been ages ever since you had heard someone call you by your name, hearing it felt foreign, yet it felt right, as if it was the only way you wished to hear it. Like a declaration of love.

Letting go of your ankle, he gestured with a small (even slightly bashful) smile that you could take a look. With all the eagerness you’d been struggling to restrain, you pulled your leg closer to yourself, your smile growing when you spotted the delicate looking sunflower on your skin.

“I like it very much,” you murmured, appreciating the delicate look of it, yet how it held a meaning that was anything but.

Youngho simply smiled, “I’m pleased that you find it to your liking.”

This time, Youngho wasn’t sure why he couldn’t take his gaze away from you as you wore the stocking over your leg, watching as the little sunflower got covered by the silk fabric that was eventually smoothed over your leg to just over your knee, the way you picked up the pink ribbon garter, tying it around the hem of the stocking with practised, routine movements.

Youngho brought a hand up to the collar of his shirt, fixing his suspenders out of a need to fidget, to distract himself from his want to know what the silk ribbon would feel like in his hands, to distract himself from the feeling of the distance between the both of you. Yet not being able to feel as though it was a certain reverence that was keeping his gaze on you.

Once you were done, you smoothed your dress over, standing up with a small grunt, your legs feeling sore from sitting in the same position for so long. Youngho stood up as well, though he kept his gaze averted, knowing it was about time for you to return home for tea.

“I should be leaving now,” you spoke to fill the silence, drawing his gaze to you, not being able to smile at how flustered he looked, as much as he was trying to hide it.

Youngho nodded, “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Be safe on your way back.”

Seeming to have composed himself, Youngho brought a hand up to run his fingers through his hair, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You nodded, taking your little purse and taking slow steps backwards, reluctant to leave even though you knew it would only be a short while before you got to see him again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, opening the door for you.

Turning to give him a smile, you nodded, “Goodbye, Youngho.”

That day when you’d returned home, a giddy smile on your face and your heart thumping wildly like a protagonist in one of your sister’s romance novels, you couldn’t help but replay your interactions with Youngho in your head.

A part of you wondered why you hadn’t asked him for his name sooner, because now it was all that made sense. The simple man you had come to know, who was genuine, observant, perceptive, sweet, honest. That was Youngho to you, that was what made sense to you.

Even as you lay in bed that night, thinking about the little sunflower resting on the skin of your ankle, you were sure anybody else would have thought you were going crazy, but it replayed over and over again in your head.

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho.

Your little mantra of love.

===

Another rule that was essential to remember, was that a gentleman might take the arm of a lady like yours through his, to support you while out walking. But he must never try to take your hand, even to shake it friendly-like. If he did, you must immediately withdraw it with a strong air of disapproval, whether you felt it or not.

Something you greatly appreciated about Youngho was that he was never one to be afraid of getting his hands dirty.

Surely you were the same, out in the garden digging up earthworms as you were a child even though your mother would yell at you that you were going to get your dress dirty. But overtime, as they clamped down stricter on their rules and as you grew more occupied with the various accomplishments they desired for you to build, you had to forego certain things that would get in the way of that.

Things like painting.

As much as it was a common accomplishment for a lady like you to have, your mother had always viewed it distastefully, saying that the way you went about it was far too messy. So you’d resorted to other means of creating art, like your flower arrangements. Those, she would excuse, since they were deemed ‘useful’ for the house, so you figured you had come to cling to it as a way for you to express that desire within you to create, to appreciate beauty in such a way.

When you had told Youngho this, you should have known it was only natural for him to have offered you the opportunity to paint again. He was quick to give you the space, laying out large cloth on the floor to protect the rug, even going to the extent of asking you if you would be more comfortable working on the piece on the easel or on the floor.

So that was how you ended up standing in front of the canvas, apron wrapped around you snugly as you let yourself enjoy the freedom of letting your body move without much thought.

“You’d put me out of business if you sold your paintings,” Youngho huffed in amusement, one of many praises he’d offered to you when he saw you painting.

“I doubt so,” you muttered distractedly, frowning slightly at your painting.

You huffed, turning slightly and picking up your fan from the little table that was next to your hip, making a last-ditch attempt at making the paint dry faster using the breeze you created with your fan.

Deciding you had other ideas, you set the fan down on the table, looking at your painting and trying to execute your idea.

For some reason though, it was growing frustrating as the paint didn’t seem to move like how you envisioned it would. Youngho seemed to sense your annoyance (though it was quite obvious through your frustrated huffs), turning his gaze away from his own canvas to face you with a hum.

“What’s wrong?” Youngho asked, already getting up to make his way over to you, peering over at your painting from behind you.

“I can’t seem to get it to fan out the way I want it to,” you sighed, “my brush isn’t big enough for it.”

Youngho’s gaze on your painting was intent, seeming to be thinking from his own perspective, shrugging as he turned to you.

“You’re free to use my hand as your brush,” he offered, his nonchalance making you pause to process his words.

“Are you sure?” you asked, earning a nod from him.

“Really, I’m sure,” he reassured, waiting patiently as you dared yourself to grasp his hand with both of yours.

Youngho almost wanted to laugh, thinking of the time he had let you mull the paint, how you insisted that your strength used to mull the paint was much less than his, yet he had never felt it so strongly till now, in the firm grip with which you grasped his hand.

An ever present strength in gentleness that he’d come to associate with you.

You could practically feel the warmth radiating from his body with how close he stood behind you, with how he let his arm rest against yours as you moved it with ease.

It was almost amusing to you, how when you used his hand to smear the paint, it looked exactly like how you had pictured it in your mind. It made you wonder if all along you’d grown used to observing him, how he paints, that it was natural for your mind to picture how he would make his mark on your creations.

“Perfect,” you murmured, gaze appreciating your painting, trying to ignore the tension within your body that came with being in such close proximity with Youngho.

Turning to face him, your hands still clasped around his palm and wrist, his soft skin a contrast to the sturdiness you felt as you held his hand, his soft features a contrast from the intensity of his gaze when it met yours.

It seemed your thoughts had a mind of their own, as you let your gaze wander from the hazel of his eyes, to the deep black of his hair, to the dusty pink of his lips.

Conduct books be damned, none of them warned you about him.

“For some reason…” you began, your voice barely a murmur as you shifted your gaze back to meet his, watching how his gaze had flickered to your lips briefly, as if trying to catch himself, “no matter how close you are to me…”

Youngho shook his head slightly, his lips parting to speak, “It never feels close enough.”

You nodded, unsure what other words could express your heart better in this moment, feeling him lean in, the warmth of his breath tickling your lips, feeling as though it was a ghost of his kiss that was being pressed against your lips.

You weren’t sure if you were breathing, the only thing on your mind being the little mantra of love you had for him beating in your heart, supplying you with courage, supplying you with even more affection for him.

Feeling his lips brush against yours ever so slightly, you clutched his hand tighter in your grip, hearing him huff, a smile gracing his features.

“Are you teasing me?” you whispered.

Youngho shook his head, watching as your eyes had fluttered shut so naturally, as his breath fanned over your cheek, “Not in the slightest bit.”

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against yours, softly, yet with insistence. Letting go of his hand, you let yourself make use of the courage coursing through your veins, bringing your hands up to cup his face and feeling the slight stubble under your palm, the action making him stumble forward slightly. Youngho’s hand reached out quickly to find purchase on something and ended up on your fan, the traces of colour from your painting now smeared against the once white and spotless accessory.

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it felt as though he did, with how he led the kiss, bringing his paint free hand up to touch the small of your back, pulling you gently towards him.

So, you let yourself follow, follow the way his lips moved against yours, follow his movements that brought you closer to him, follow the way your head tilted up at the touch of his hand.

You allowed him to spoil you, to fill your mind with only thoughts of him, with the little mantra that would repeat and that you wished to repeat for as long as your heart could feel for someone, for him.

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho.

You hadn’t realised how much you were leaning into him, with how secure it felt for him to be supporting your weight like this. It didn’t even cross your mind to feel embarrassed at your lack of experience in this area, he never let you feel any of that, not with how he kissed you with such intention as though you were the only one he’d ever loved and would ever love.

It was a strange feeling, solidified by his kiss, to feel desired and even more loved. It wasn’t one or the other that you sensed in the way he’d deepened the kiss, in the way his paint covered hands had grasped your hip to hold you close, because as much as there was desire, there was love you felt in the way he cradled your face, in the way he let you melt into him with the promise that you would be supported.

In that moment, you knew that regardless of his background, his wealth, his occupation, you were willing to give your heart to him. Only Youngho.

===

A lady like you should have considered this common sense, but you must never confess your feelings until absolutely convinced of a man’s intentions.

Youngho was finding it hard to keep his heart from fluttering as you led him behind the church grounds, your hand grasping his firmly as you walked before him, familiar with the route in a way that only came from experience.

It was interesting to him, he found, the feeling that stirred within his heart as he looked at your proud smile once the both of you had reached a little pond, its circumference marked out by big stones lined up against one another, and wildflowers decorating the grass. In this case, your actions definitely spoke louder than your words— a girl who couldn’t lie to save her life, willing to take such risks for him, someone only revealed to her as a poor painter.

He remembered what he told Jaehyun, when the viscount was persuading him to meet the sister of the girl he loved. He remembered telling Jaehyun that he didn’t think love was going to be in the cards for him, but looking at you now, he knew he was wrong. The girl he was looking at, pointing at the little frog that swam past you in the pond and tapping his arm to get his attention, was love in all he had come to discover it to be.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you drawled, gesturing around you at the empty open field, taking your seat next to the pond with Youngho following suit, the two empty glasses and bottle of wine in his hands clinking gently as he did so.

“It’s beautiful,” Youngho gushed with extra dramatics, earning a huff of laughter from you, “how did you discover this place?”

You shrugged, smoothing over your dress as you made yourself comfortable, “I told you, I spent a lot of time wandering around.”

“Well, it was time well spent, indeed,” he smiled, his nose scrunching as he let the glasses lean against his knee, removing his gloves and setting them aside before getting the bottle open.

“Where did you say that was from, again?” you asked, ever curious.

Youngho paused briefly, glancing at the bottle before pouring some into each of the glasses.

“Italy,” he said, “They import wine here, actually. The wine merchant? Do you recall? The one that was the previous landlord of my studio, he’s the owner of the winery that produces this wine.”

“Wow,” you huffed, “Wonder why I’ve never seen much of it before.”

At that, Youngho couldn’t help but laugh, looking at you sceptically, “You speak as though you’re an avid drinker.”

Embarrassed by his teasing, you scoffed, though the smile on your face lingered, “I suppose I could have come across it in my time at home, you know, snooping around in my father’s study.”

Youngho nodded, a patronising smile on his face, “Yeah, yeah, I suppose .”

Removing your gloves, you’d set it next to his on the grass, accepting the glass from him with a small murmur of thanks.

Sniffing the red liquid, you couldn’t help but glance up at him for some confirmation that it was supposed to smell like this, or what to anticipate its taste to be.

“Go ahead, try it,” he nodded reassuringly, bringing his own glass to his lips, sipping the wine in a way that made him seem all-too-accustomed to such tasting.

Taking a sip, you swallowed, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and a mustered smile, earning a bout of laughter from Youngho.

“I’m guessing it doesn’t suit your tastes?”

You shook your head in disagreement, “No, no, It’s just… interesting ,” you hummed, taking another sip and seeing his eyebrows lift as you did so, endearment written all over his features.

“I shall have to get used to it, I suppose.”

And get used to it, you did.

It was in this very pursuit of ‘getting used to it’ that you found yourself growing much more unfiltered (or at least, more than usual).

Your head had started to feel heavy, Youngho offering for you to rest your head on his lap, and you did so gladly, looking up at him and enjoying the feeling of his fingertips tracing your features lazily, as if committing them to memory, wondering if a sculpture would do you justice when it was made by his hands.

“Your eyes are really pretty in this light,” you murmured.

It’d been long since you stopped drinking, Youngho taking the liberty to finish your glass for you while you lay your head on his lap.

Youngho almost sputtered around his drink, setting the glass down onto the grass and turning to look at you with a teasing smile.

“If this is you ‘getting used’ to the wine, I find it hard to have any complaints,” he laughed, “you’re smiling at me more than usual, and that’s saying a lot.”

You brought your hands up to cover your mouth, though it didn’t do anything to conceal your smile, laughter bubbling out of you as you shook your head.

“This is unfamiliar to me, but I find I cannot help but smile at you. It’s as though my body is moving in its most honest manner.”

“It’s honest, that’s for sure,” he reassured, earning a hum from you.

Reaching a hand out towards one of his hands, the one closest to you in your eyeline, you watched him switch the hand that was holding his wine glass so he could let you have his hand, wondering what exactly you were going to do with it.

Frankly, you weren’t sure either, bringing his hand close to your face and daring yourself to press a gentle kiss to his palm, the smile that followed making Youngho’s eyebrows lift, his smile mirroring yours.

You let go of his hand, letting it rest on top of your face and shutting your eyes, though it was amusing to him, the way he could feel the outline of your smile against his palm.

You noticed that Youngho grew more serious after a few drinks, a certain sleepiness taking over his gaze as he looked at nothing in particular. The both of you enjoyed the silence, aside from the sound of nature, the sound of the both of you just existing in that place, it was a peace you couldn’t quite describe. You couldn’t deny that the silence gave room for your thoughts to wander, your excitement for your sister’s return bringing with it all your fears about what would proceed from her return as well.

“My sister is to return from her honeymoon soon,” you said, “I am sure she and her husband have plans to hold a private ball once they are here.”

Judging from the absence of a smile from your face now, Youngho hummed, moving his hand just slightly so it rested against the side of your face now, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your cheek, warmth radiating from him to you.

“You don’t sound very happy about that.”

You shook your head, “I suppose it’s because I’m not.”

Glancing up at him, you let one of your hands cover his, touching the skin of his hand in drowsy patterns, with no desire in mind but to feel him.

“I’m sure their search for a suitable husband for me will only intensify once she returns,” you sighed deeply, eyebrows furrowing as you frowned.

“Husband,” Youngho echoed, something akin to a mix of a sigh and a groan leaving him.

“Dear husband ,” you drawled, as though you were calling someone, grimacing as soon as the words left your lips, meeting Youngho’s amused gaze and feeling the smile grace your features again.

“You know, I never once heard my mother call my father anything other than his name before,” you recalled, shifting slightly where you lay so you could see Youngho better.

Youngho hummed, nodding, “Me neither. I suppose maybe I was too young to notice. Either that or perhaps they saved the terms of endearment for when they were alone.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation.

“You’re smart, I never considered that.”

Youngho could only laugh, his hand smoothing over your hair affectionately, “Do I get a reward, then?” he asked.

Youngho suddenly leaned over so he was close enough to you that it made you shut your eyes, opening them up again with a huff when you felt him press a kiss to your forehead instead, pulling back with giggles leaving him that made it hard for you to remain annoyed.

“How cruel of you,” you huffed, earning a dramatic gasp from him.

“Cruel? What an inappropriate descriptor of me,” he smiled. Perhaps he was right, that smile was anything but cruel.

“What would you call your wife?” you asked, practically thinking out loud at this point.

Your question surprised Youngho, but he was always sporting your various trains of thought or rambling, and it was no different this time.

“That depends… on her personality, how I feel towards her,” he glanced at you as he finished speaking, averting his gaze back to the field as you felt his thumb continue to caress your cheek.

“So, it would change from person to person?”

Youngho hummed, “I suppose it would.”

You were starting to realise the truth behind the phrase ‘liquid courage’, your gaze firm on Youngho with your next words.

“What if it was me, then? What would you call me?”

Youngho met your gaze, looking almost pensive for a moment as he felt the peace you described about the church grounds, the peace in his heart that came with your presence, and all the love you brought to him with you.

“Beloved,” he spoke, again, as though he was calling your name, and as if you were hearing it in the only way you wished to hear it, “I’d call you beloved.”

“My beloved,” he said with finality.

In that moment, in that little declaration of who you were to him, it was as though you were being reminded of what you seemed to have forgotten. In being declared his beloved, you were worthy of love, you were loved as you were, regarded dearly even in your fear of not being useful or helpful.

In short, you felt known.

It was true, Youngho was not cruel. What was cruel was the reminder that your mother would never approve of him, what was cruel was the fact that once your sister returned, you were going to be thrown into whoever’s arms your family deemed fit. What was cruel was that you knew whoever they were, they weren’t Youngho.

Your eyebrows furrowed, averting your gaze from his face.

Youngho was feeling the effect of his words, knowing very well for himself that he was in far too deep now. But even despite this knowledge, he didn’t want to come out. He wanted to bury himself in all that he was feeling, to solidify the fact that when he thought of a wife, only your face came to mind, only you made sense to take that place.

“Do you think it would have been different…” he glanced at you, searching your pensive gaze, “you know, if we had met under different circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” you hummed, attentive in a way that made Youngho feel even more certain about his words.

“As nobility.”

The seriousness of his tone would’ve made you laugh under any other circumstance, considering it was completely hypothetical. But perhaps it was your pensive mood that made you consider his words more seriously, wishing they were the reality you were in.

You frowned, shaking your head, “It’s never crossed my mind, but… I’m sure I would’ve been drawn to you the same.”

Turning to brace a hand on his thigh as you sat up, letting his hand fall back onto his lap as you met his gaze, mirroring his seriousness and sincerity as you spoke the truth of what you felt.

“I’m sure of it,” you repeated, as if hoping it was getting through to him, “nobility or not… you’re you .”

Taking his hand in his, you fiddled with his fingers, interlocking your fingers, moving them just enough so you could press the tips of your fingernails against the pads of his fingertips.

Glancing down at your hand in his, he let out a deep breath, looking back up at your face.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, needing to hear the confirmation from your own lips.

You shot him a look, a hint of a smile playing at your lips.

“You know I’m not a good liar,” you reminded, a certain shyness overcoming you as you struggled to hold his gaze, something about the intensity of the way he was looking at you flustering you to no end.

Youngho huffed, a hint of amusement in his features that let you know he was about to say something to tease you.

“And you know I would believe anything you say to me when you say it like that.”

You sighed, daring yourself to bring one of his hands up to your face, letting yourself lean into the warmth of his palm.

“Youngho,” you began, and Youngho was sure just in how you said his name, there was all the sincerity he searched for, all the vulnerability of yourself that you were showing to him.

“To be a lady and for me to be like this with you... I need you to understand what this means for me… I need you to understand all that I am risking, and know that I find it worth risking for you.”

As the words left you, you felt unbearably exposed under his gaze, Youngho’s silence making you want to reassure him, your hand that covered his on your face rubbing the back of his hand gently.

"Do you believe me?" you murmured.

Youngho didn’t know what to do with all the love he was feeling, so he did what felt natural to him.

He let his hand pull away from your face, pulling you close to him so he could wrap his arms around you, cradling your head in his hand, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“I believe you.”

In his arms, you felt the protection around your vulnerability, the intangible desire in your heart manifesting in the way you felt a sigh leave you, leaning into his embrace.

===

And importantly, a lady like you should have a sacred regard to truth, for lying is a mean and despicable vice.

Padding down the stairs on another morning, a few days after the night in the field with Youngho, you were going about what became your new routine, heading to the kitchen, ready to retrieve your share (and Youngho’s) of honey biscuits from your lady’s maid before you would head off to his studio.

Except, today was different.

You should have known something was off from the sympathetic looks you were getting from the staff since you came out of your room, not thinking much of it until you found your lady’s maid in the drawing room, seeing her slip a little pamphlet in your hands with an urgency that unsettled you, your gaze barely landing on the title before you heard your mother’s voice.

“You,” your head snapped around at the sound of her tone, knowing almost instantly that the sinking feeling in your gut was not unfounded, “I believe we need to have a talk.”

Your gaze landed on your father who stood behind her, stoic and almost apathetic-looking as he simply stood there.

With how angry your mother seemed, you were surprised she was even talking to you at all. But as for your father? You felt it was worse, to be constantly searching for his gaze and not being met with it, as he fixed his gaze elsewhere. Following your parents up the stairs, your heart began to pound harshly as they entered your room, feeling as though its pounding stopped entirely when you saw your painting lying on the floor.

“Is it true?” she asked, earning a frown from you.

You glanced at your father, who had taken his place behind her, simply looking blankly at the floor.

You frowned, “Is what true?” you dared to ask, watching warily as her jaw clenched.

“It aggravates me how you still have the ability to act nonchalant,” she bent over, grabbing the painting so harshly that it made you grimace, “have you been acquainting yourself indecently with that painter ?”

The way she spoke of his occupation was as though it was a crime, but that wasn’t your concern at this moment. You wondered how she knew, or how you should react, but like you said, you were never a good liar. Your expression alone was enough to give it away.

“I want you to stop this immediately. You will not ruin your prospects, your reputation, your virtue, for a man who is not worth considering,” there was spite in her tone, the way she spoke about Youngho unnerving you. Though it all still didn’t answer your question of how she came to know about him.

Your lips parted only to close again, unable to find the words you wished to express to her.

“He is a good man,” was all you could muster, the scoff you received in return making you cower, feeling warm tears prick at your eyes.

“Anyone can be a ‘good man’ ,” she told you, “being a ‘good man’ does not provide you financial security. Being a ‘good man ’ does not guarantee you a house. Being a ‘good man’ does not excuse recklessness.”

You half expected your father to step in, to tell her to go easy on you. Or to try to soothe her temper so her words would become less cutting. But none of that came, even as you looked desperately at him for some signal that he would step in to help you, you continued to be met with the image of your father looking as though he had better things to be done elsewhere, dissociated from whatever was happening.

You weren’t sure what hurt you more, the feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed you or the fear that it was only a prelude for what was to come. It felt as though you were being made to choose between disappointing your family or losing and disappointing the man you loved. Neither of which you wanted, but you knew you weren’t going to have much of a choice.

“I forbid you from seeing that man again. You will not leave this house if it is not for an event,” your mother spoke, tossing your painting onto the floor and leaving without another word, your father following silently behind her.

You didn’t realise you were crying until you felt your tears touch your lips, bringing your hand up to wipe your tears away and realising then that you were still holding the pamphlet your lady’s maid gave you.

Bypassing the mocking title, you continued to read.

It should have been obvious to you when you read your initial next to ‘Lady’, reading on in spite of yourself.

‘... seen with a local painter in a position that shall not be described… Considering her sister’s success in marriage that elevated her to a viscountess, it must come as a shock to anyone for her to have looked much lower for her own marriage partner… a fling like this is surely only good for temporary excitement…’

You stopped reading, setting the pamphlet aside and burying your face into your mattress.

How you missed your sister in a time like this, though you had no idea how you were going to explain this to her when she returned.

You would soon find that your mother would do all the explaining for you, filling your sister in on all the details she’d procured from the scandal sheet while you were simply too upset to do any explaining for yourself. Frankly, the only thought on your mind was that you hoped Youngho wasn’t worried, since it had been weeks since you had stopped visiting his studio.

Your sister’s husband, the viscount Jung Jaehyun, wasn’t helping either, insisting that he had a friend of his that he felt would be a suitable marriage partner for you. Your sister seemed to agree, casting sympathetic looks your way whenever the topic of marriage came up, but insisting in her own gentle way that perhaps it would be for the best to move forward.

It was difficult to hear about how much property he had as the owner of a winery, his wealth or even his penchant for the arts because the only thing on your mind was the man with little to his name, sitting in his studio waiting for you to arrive.

There was nothing left for you to do, not with how your mother wouldn’t speak to you or acknowledge you directly, not with how your father seemed to want to pretend nothing had ever happened to begin with, not with how you weren’t allowed to leave the house if it was not for social events now. It seemed the choice you were being handed on a platter was to be a good daughter, the product of all the conduct books you read; as helpless as it made you feel.

===

You figured this was a rule you should have regarded more seriously, but a lady like you should remember that infallibility is not the property of man, or you may entail disappointment on yourself, by expecting what is never to be found.

Perhaps the higher power that was watching over you decided that things weren’t quite over yet.

Because as you stood in the makeshift ballroom of your sister and her husband’s new house, the drawing room they had converted into a ballroom space for dancing and hosting, you couldn’t deny the way your stomach churned with anxiety at her husband’s excitement, insisting that his friend was to arrive soon.

You were sure you’d tuned out the noise at one point, finding it hard to ignore the way you were feeling giddy (and not in a very good way), wanting nothing more but to be at home away from any potential suitors that weren’t Youngho. So, it was safe to say you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you when you saw the man walking in with the viscount.

Dressed in clothes that looked even more elaborate and expensive than those you saw on Taeyong at the races, or even those the viscount adorned now, walking with the same air of calm confidence that you’d practically memorised by now.

The same black hair, hazel eyes, dusty pink lips that grew clearer to you the closer they came to where you stood with your sister.

None of it made sense, he shouldn’t even have been able to be here.

You weren’t sure you were breathing, face to face with the very man that hadn’t left your mind for what seemed like forever. Your little mantra of love began to repeat in your head, as though it were natural for your heart to respond in such a way, desperate to let him know that his presence was felt.

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho.

You barely noticed how Jaehyun had introduced him, drawn back to the present moment with your sister’s voice ringing in your ears.

“It is rather relieving to finally be able to put a face to the faceless Marquess,” she huffed in amusement, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Suh.”

Marquess?

You frowned, eyebrows furrowed and your gaze firmly fixed on Youngho’s. The marquess they had told you about for the past week, who had recently inherited all the property of his father who had passed, property including a winery.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what an arduous task it was to get Johnny to agree to attend today’s ball,” Jaehyun laughed, making your frown deepen, your sister being able to sense that this was more than just a displeasure that you felt towards the Marquess.

Youngho’s gaze was apologetic, which had only served to upset you even more. You were trying to process all that was happening, but couldn’t shake the mixed emotions you were feeling all at once.

Turning to you, your sister nudged you lightly, “Is something wrong?”

You managed to tear your gaze away from Youngho, turning to your sister and taking in a deep breath, though it didn’t feel like you were breathing at all, the air not seeming to satisfy your lungs and making you feel as though you had to try again.

“I need to get some air.”

You started walking, but you weren’t sure where exactly your destination was. All you knew was that you were hyper aware of the fact that Youngho was following you and you didn’t want to be caught with him alone outside the building, not wanting your mother to be even more upset at you.

It would’ve been amusing if the situation was different, feeling as though you were playing a game of cat and mouse as you tried to out-walk him in the confines of the drawing room. Youngho’s strides were always much bigger than yours, though, so you should have known that it was only a matter of time before he would have caught up with you.

“May I have the honour of a dance with you, Miss Y/N,” he spoke firmly, loud enough that the lady next to you had turned to you with an expectant look, wondering why you were taking so long to respond to him.

It was unfortunate, how in a situation like this, you couldn’t exactly go against the etiquette rules you loved to flout. You knew that for as long as you were in this room, you had to acknowledge the truth that as long as you were not spoken for, you had no choice but to accept his offer to dance.

You settled for a small nod, keeping your gaze low as you accepted his hand and let him lead you to where the other guests were dancing. You barely had time to adjust before you had to react quickly to the song, following the choreography with ease and perhaps even being slightly annoyed that Youngho was even better at it than you were.

“Please say something,” he pleaded, making you shake your head, still keeping your gaze on anything but his face, not knowing what your heart would make you do if you were to meet his attentive gaze in this space.

“No,” you muttered, “I’ve been too rude to a marquess all this time.”

Youngho was barely able to stop himself.

“Y/N, please.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name, tears welling up in your eyes as Youngho’s expression softened. You felt his grip on you tighten, steadying you, the same unspoken promise that you were supported even when you felt like your body would give at any moment.

It didn’t make sense to you in your head.

Someone like Youngho, who never underestimated you, who was always attentive to you, who read you like an open book and never held it against you. You didn’t think he would ever treat you like how your family did, hiding things from you, viewing you as a little child who was incapable of handling grown-up matters, confining her to her childish duties of pleasing others and arranging flowers. It was an awful feeling that came with the thought that Youngho, of all people, would ever subject you to such humiliation.

“Why did you lie?” you frowned, swallowing thickly though it did nothing to the lump you felt in your throat, “did you think I wouldn’t be able to handle it? Did you find some kind of pleasure in making me a fool?”

You scoffed, blinking harshly, “As if I haven’t had more than my fair share of that Young— Your Lordship .”

Youngho frowned, “Why are you calling me that?”

You sighed deeply, feeling breathless from both the choreography and your sheer emotion.

“Is it not your title?”

Youngho shook his head, more out of dismissal than denial, “What happened to ‘even if we met as nobility’? Did that mean nothing to you?”

Your lips parted, offence in your gaze as you scoffed.

“I’m upset, but do not think for even a second that I did not mean every word I said to you,” you told him, a firmness to your tone that made Youngho regret his words, “unfortunately, I cannot say the same for you.”

Youngho paused, a tense silence falling between the both of you that contrasted the cheerful music echoing around the room.

“It was not personal,” he murmured.

You frowned, still unable to place what you were feeling, unsure how to convey it to him in a way that would allow him to understand why you were reacting this way.

“It is always personal. How could you…” you averted your gaze, shaking your head, “how could you compromise me—”

“ Compromise you?” his tone was incredulous, eyes widening in shock, “I kissed you.”

Clenching your jaw, you huffed, “Forgive me, truly, for finding it hard to see things for what they are. Forgive me for allowing myself to expect .”

Your words made Youngho recall your meeting at the races, perhaps some things were best enjoyed without too many expectations . He begged to differ, though, he just wasn’t sure how to let you know that he was ready to give to you whatever you asked for, whatever you were expecting from him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, frustrated at the environment the both of you were in, at the lack of privacy he felt here, at the way it prevented him from showing you and telling you all that he truly wished to, having to settle for pathetic apologies and pointed looks.

You let out a sigh, “Just answer me one question.”

Youngho nodded quickly, humming to prompt you to continue.

“Were you ever planning on telling me the truth?” you asked, training your gaze up to meet his once again and trying to distract yourself from the way your heart still swelled with love for the one you gazed upon.

“The day after that night at the church. I was going to tell you then,” he answered, sincerity in his tone, in the way he looked at you, in the way he held you.

The day the scandal sheet was released.

You nodded, hearing the music come to an end as you let him go, feeling his hands slip from you reluctantly.

Turning your head, you met your mother’s gaze.

Youngho noticed the way you had tensed up and increased the distance between yourself and him, returning to the daughter raised by conduct books that your mother was pleased with. The ‘respectable lady’ that would continue to fight her urge to yearn for her love’s touch and search for his gaze in the crowd for the rest of the night.

===

When considering marriage, a lady like you needed to make sure that arrangements offered equitable compensation as it were, for all involved and no one, including the extended families, was being shorted in the exchange.

“How was the ball? Surely it wasn’t so bad after all, wasn’t it?” Jaehyun asked, earning a sigh from Johnny.

“No, it was the most horrendous torture ever imaginable,” he deadpanned, finding it hard to focus on the boxing match that was happening in front of him, wondering why Jaehyun decided to bring him here of all places. But he figured he wouldn’t have minded being her under any other circumstance.

Wincing at the fighter who had taken a particularly bad hit, Jaehyun folded his arms across his chest, “Shame, though, I thought you and Miss Y/N would’ve gotten along particularly well.”

Johnny frowned, “What makes you say that?”

Jaehyun shrugged, his gaze still following the fight, “You know, I heard from her sister that she was involved with another man… a painter, if I recall correctly. And her mother didn’t seem to approve because of his status or something along that line…” he trailed off distractedly, earning an expectant hum from Johnny.

“And?” he prompted, impatient now to know what was said about his and your relationship.

“Oh, right. Yes, so we figured that it would be better to present her with some other options, you know? We thought introducing her to you would help her move on from it, but she’s been off ever since the day of the ball. Her sister says she’s never seen her like that before, going from being so insistent to so… emotionally detached from it all.”

Johnny hummed, something in him feeling as though he needed to prepare himself to receive a piece of bad news, judging from the way Jaehyun sighed.

“But I suppose her mother has worn her out,” Jaehyun sighed, “she’s been recommending another man to Miss Y/N, one she claims is more reasonable… you know, dowry-wise and all.”

Johnny frowned, “Didn’t anyone try to dissuade her?”

Jaehyun frowned, “I suppose that’s the thing, she hasn’t protested to it herself… my suspicion is that she’s afraid of disappointing her mother.”

For some reason, Johnny couldn’t wrap his head around it, “And did you try to say anything?”

Jaehyun shot Johnny a knowing look, “Believe me, I’ve tried. Miss Y/N was the one that told me it was alright.”

“She did?” Johnny frowned, earning a huff from Jaehyun.

“Do you see that man over there, standing by the table?” Jaehyun nudged Johnny, gesturing to the direction of the table with a nod of his head, Johnny’s gaze landing on a man who looked twice your age, counting money from bets he’d won in his hands.

“That’s the man who is courting her,” Jaehyun told him pointedly, observing Johnny’s reaction carefully as the latter’s gaze stayed fixated on the man, a slight furrow to his eyebrows as he watched him.

Jaehyun continued, “His status is similar to theirs, so it does not require much of a dowry, which I suppose is what her mother’s so agreeable about. But… I think you can understand what I mean when I say I cannot seem to warm up to him.”

Johnny watched the way the man’s gaze had followed a woman who had walked past him to get to her seat in the spectators stand, something about the way he looked at her unnerving Johnny, growing uncomfortable at the thought of the man looking at you in such a predatory manner.

“And she has no complaints? About him courting her?” Johnny asked, still staring down the man as though he were trying to burn holes into the man.

Jaehyun was growing frustrated, wondering how long Johnny was going to deflect the issue at hand with his questions.

“Don’t you think you would be better off asking her yourself?”

Johnny tore his gaze away from the man, staring blankly at Jaehyun with his lips parted slightly.

“My time away did not make me a fool, Johnny. It was obvious the moment I saw how you reacted to each other at the ball,” Jaehyun rolled his eyes, “do you suppose there were any other painters in town named Youngho that didn’t work in their own homes?”

Johnny was at a loss for words, starting to understand why Jaehyun decided to bring him to a random boxing match at mid-day.

“How long more are you going to spend sitting here and pretending you’re okay with it?” Jaehyun hummed, “you helped me before, and honestly, I’d be more frustrated with myself if I let you carry on like this.”

Johnny’s gaze shifted to the fighters, then to the man, then back to Jaehyun, unsure what his course of action was going to be but knowing that he wanted nothing more than to go to you now.

“Her parents are here. I suggest you go now, I can buy you some time,” Jaehyun told him smoothly, and Johnny wondered if this was how he must have looked before when he was aiding Jaehyun with his own love troubles.

But there was no time for him to dwell on that now, already getting up and leaving as fast as he could to the address Jaehyun had told him.

“Miss Y/N, you have a caller,” your butler informed you as you were in the middle of playing a piano piece in your drawing room, stopping yourself in embarrassment when you realised it was the piece Youngho told you was his favourite.

Though you weren’t exactly sure why you were embarrassed, it wasn’t as if your butler knew that.

“Who is it?”

“Lord Suh, Miss,” your eyes widened as the words left him, standing up from the piano and adjusting your dress, your hand coming up to your face, making sure there was no sleep in your eyes as you nodded at your butler.

“Okay, you can send him in. Thank you.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when Youngho entered, though the scene had come to mind many times before.

You imagined him coming into the room with a dramatic profession of apologies, and another scenario where you imagined him to come to you with a sombre expression on his face, pleading with you to forgive him. You would be lying if you said you didn’t even imagine him simply coming to the room and kissing you, but of course, that was a little far fetched.

What you surely didn’t anticipate was for Youngho to enter the room, a determined look on his face as he met your gaze, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Are you thinking?” he asked.

Taken aback by his words, you tilted your head at him, confusion written all over your features. This definitely was not something you anticipated in your daydreams.

“What’s there for me to think so urgently about?” you asked, watching as Youngho brought a hand up to press it against his forehead, letting his hand drop to his side.

Shaking his head, he pressed his tongue in his cheek, a small huff leaving him, “Do you really want to wed that man? You cannot possibly be in love with him, you barely know him!”

His tone was insistent, bordering on desperate, a contrast to your still solemn expression, something you were falling back on in the hope that you would not start crying.

“My mother knows him well enough.”

Youngho sighed, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, and you struggled not to let your gaze linger too long on his lips, shifting your gaze to look out of the window.

“It is your marriage, Y/N. Not your mother’s, nor your family’s,” he spoke, softer now, but with all the same insistence as before.

“Is it really?” you frowned, “aren’t all marriages these days purely business? When you marry someone, you’re marrying their family as well—weren’t you all too aware of this? Surely, this was why you chose not to tell me you were a marquess, was it not?”

Youngho frowned.

“That was not why I did not tell you. It was never about business to begin with,” he shook his head, pained to see your hurt being expressed in such a way, yet still unsure about how to voice out his thoughts.

“You may take me for a fool, Youngho, but I know for a fact that you are anything but,” you folded your arms across your chest, breathing in deeply though it didn’t seem to satisfy you again, breathlessness creeping up on you, “what makes you think I am any different? How can you be so sure that I will marry this man for love?”

Youngho’s expression turned even more serious at your words, holding a certain confidence to it that intimidated you, knowing you could never hide from him as much as you were attempting to do so now through your words.

“I don’t believe you’d marry without it,” he spoke firmly, more as a statement, a fact.

It made your mind go blank, knowing he was right.

You shook your head slowly, your gaze hardening in an attempt to remain firm, “Whether you believe me or not, that does not change the fact that he has made his intentions clear. He is offering money and stability. My family can afford the dowry. I am in no position to refuse.”

Perhaps you would be able to if he did something, you wanted to add. But somehow in that moment, you were afraid. The past few weeks have been a reminder to you of the helplessness you feared, the kind where you were unsupported, left to flail around for yourself not knowing what you were doing.

This hardening of your gaze, of your words, of your heart, they were your last-ditch attempt at protecting yourself from that feeling of helplessness you were starting to grow familiar with in the past few weeks. You did not want to grow familiar with it, not for the rest of your life.

“That man does not deserve you,” Youngho frowned, the way he looked at you with such sincerity making you avert your gaze, his attentiveness becoming too much, as if he was unlocking the part of you that yearned, telling you the things you needed to be reminded of.

“I did not choose him based on how much he deserves me,” you muttered.

“That’s because it wasn’t you choosing him at all,” Youngho shot back just as quickly, making you sigh.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a murmur as you felt your body yelling at you, telling you to take deeper breaths even though with each breath you took, it didn’t feel like enough.

You were starting to feel like the room was growing suffocating, frustration and longing and everything in between overwhelming you, “I do not have a choice—”

“No, but you do,” he insisted, “you do have a choice. You can reject him and no one would blame you.”

Your words were coming out faster than you could process now, only being able to focus on the boy in front of you and the way your heart felt like it was aching for that protection, that assurance, that Youngho allowed you to know.

“And then what? Disappoint my family by saying no to the one thing they let me do?” you huffed, exasperated, “lose my parents’ trust because I wasn’t honest with them for once in my life?”

Youngho sighed deeply, “What about love—”

“And what about honesty?” You said, trying to breathe deeply but the ache in your chest made it difficult to, your fists clenching around your clothes as if trying to lessen the way it felt like you were being crushed.

“Is that what you are ready to settle for, then?” Youngho’s tone was disbelieving, as if baffled that you were willing to sacrifice your needs and wants so easily, “mindless flattery from a man who is only honest about the fact that he sees you as a prize to be won?”

Youngho regretted his words the moment they left him, seeing how you were leaning on the piano for balance, shaky breaths leaving you as your eyes welled up with tears once again.

“I know!” You blurted, “... I know,” your hand came up to wipe your tears harshly, the other hand still gripping tightly onto your clothes, “It is not flattering to be desired… whilst not being loved.”

Youngho couldn’t help himself now, moving without hesitation as he rushed over to where you were, his hands coming to grip your shoulders, letting you lean on him as he pulled you into his arms, your hands letting go of your dress weakly and falling to your sides as you let yourself remember what it felt like to be enveloped in this protection, in this support.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his hand coming up to rub your back soothingly, his hold unwavering as he waited for you to calm down.

“Why are you doing this to me, Youngho?” Your voice was muffled through his clothing, your tears falling freely now as you cried, his hands still comforting you as he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry for upsetting you, I didn’t mean to.”

You frowned, daring yourself to pull away from where your head rested against his chest, looking up to meet his gaze, still wrapped in the security of his arms.

“I’m upset… yet I don’t quite think that’s the word I’m looking for. I’m… at a loss,” you told him, seeing him press his lips into a firm line as he nodded at you slowly, prompting you to continue.

“Having to listen to you tell me not to marry a man we both know I have no true desire to marry, that I have no affection for… it’s… Here I am, feeling chained to my guilt as a daughter yet not being able to find any part of me that is truly satisfied in making up for my guilt in this way, or fulfilling my ‘duty’ as a daughter through this obedience.”

You swallowed, averting your gaze to glance at Youngho’s collar before bringing your gaze back up to meet his eyes, the same hazel glow in them that made you feel as though he were the sun and you were simply a sunflower, gravitating towards him.

Youngho guided you over to the sofa near the piano, letting you sit down, one of his hands still placed protectively over your hand, something you very much appreciated, serving to ground you almost.

“I… I didn’t know what to think, you just stopped showing up and I hadn’t heard from you, I was… I was worried. And to suddenly hear that you were being courted by this man, I just couldn’t help myself,” Youngho admitted, though there wasn’t a trace of regret in his tone that he was here. He didn’t regret this.

You sighed, the memory feeling almost fresh in your mind as you recalled it.

“My mother wouldn’t speak to me for weeks after she found my painting, after she read what they said in the scandal sheet. Do you think I like having to be in this position? To desire to be loved by the both of you but to feel as though the two are mutually exclusive.”

At that moment, it felt as though you were laying your heart bare to Youngho, feeling as though you were the man in the painting you saw in the church, stepping out of the safety of your boat into the raging waters because you saw the one you loved, because you heard them call you to step out, and so you did. Willing yourself to be vulnerable for this love you felt for Youngho.

“I was upset because… well, how can you even think of asking me if this is what I want? How can you think that for a second I would want to trade you in for a man who cannot possibly compare to you?” you frowned, bewildered that he could ever think such a thing.

“How could you think for a second that I would want to settle for that man’s corrupt desire?” you murmured, searching his gaze that you saw was growing more insistent.

“Well, then, what if you had both? What if you had someone who both desired and loved you with their entire being?”

You shot him a pointed look.

You knew Youngho was one that enjoyed speaking hypothetically about things, but you didn’t think now was exactly a perfect time to be doing so.

Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you huffed, “Youngho, discussing hypotheticals is not going to make this situation any less real.”

How could you explain this to him? It didn’t matter if it was someone who desired and loved you, you were only wishing that someone would be him.

Youngho shook his head, eyes wide as if he were sounding out a new idea to you for his art piece, making your eyebrows lift in curiosity.

“I know, but what if you already had someone who loved you? What if they were in front of you right now. Would that change your mind about proceeding with that man?”

You frowned, “Youngho, would you just speak plainly with me? What is it that you are trying to say?”

Youngho’s lips parted, huffing in amusement in spite of himself, gathering up the rest of his heart to present it to you.

“I don’t know how much plainer I can get than…”

Youngho’s eyebrows lifted slightly, an almost pleading look to his gaze as you felt his hand squeeze yours gently.

“Y/N, do you not see that I love you deeply?”

There it was, the grip that caught you before you could sink into the raging waters, the security and safety that enveloped your vulnerability.

Perhaps the question you were meant to ponder all this while wasn’t really ‘how willing were you to be vulnerable?’, but ‘how safe did you feel to be vulnerable?’.

The answer was simple to you now as you looked at him.

Simple, but far from simplistic.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you told him, watching how his expression softened, his hand over yours grasping onto you tighter.

“If it’s the money your mother is worried about… I don’t care about a dowry,” he blurted, thinking off the top of his head, the sudden mention of a dowry making you laugh at the absurdity of it.

“I know you don’t, you never had to,” you scoffed, still recovering from your amusement that he would think you cared about such a thing.

Youngho’s eyebrows lifted slightly in question, more curious than challenging.

“Does that fact upset you?”

You hummed, bringing one of your hands to cover his, running your thumb over the skin of his knuckles in a way that made Youngho melt.

“How do I explain this to you, Youngho?... You don’t care about a dowry? Quite frankly, neither do I,” you let out an amused huff, “I find myself unable to care about anything other than the fact that it was your hands, your eyes, your heart… that it was you who… let me know what it feels like to be immortalised.”

“It has ruined any chance of me considering anyone else, because if I am to be immortalised, if I am to be conveyed into art, if I am to be vulnerable, if I am to be held... I want it to happen by your hands,” your tone was firm, all the love that swelled in your heart finally making its way out of you and trying to reach his, “your hands and no one else’s, Youngho.”

“Even now with the knowledge that you are a marquess, that fact has no weight on my decision to love you because I did not fall in love with a marquess . I fell in love with you, your soul. "

Youngho didn’t think he was breathing. All he could focus on was your voice that rang in his head, sweeter than any melody you played on the piano, sweeter than any sound he had heard, laced with love and painting vivid colours on his heart.

“I only ever have the privilege of one answer for the suitors I’m presented with… but it was an answer I was only ever willing, or hoping , to offer to you,” a hint of a smile played at your lips, “so, forgive me, for not caring about the dowry either.”

Youngho’s lips parted, not finding himself thinking about his words carefully, simply letting his heart go before him in his words, his own love desperate to make its way into your heart and make a home there.

“I brought something for you,” he began, using his free hand (simply because he did not want to let go of your hand) to reach into his coat, pulling out the leatherbound sketchbook you recognised from before.

“Remember how I told you it was never about business to begin with?” he spoke, earning a nod from you, his fingers absently toying with the string of the worn sketchbook.

“It’s because… I’ve seen how fickle people are. How they change the moment they find out you are of a certain status or possess certain wealth. It made me cynical for a long time,” this time, you couldn’t find it in you to look away, his gaze that was searching yours was far too beautiful to miss, “I didn’t trust people’s intentions because most of the time they really were only interested in my money or my family.”

You nodded, prompting him to continue.

“It’s why I never liked doing portraits,” he admitted, “they always felt cold . It was… overwhelming to me; the idea of immortalising a creature so fickle, so tainted by power and money. You could never really see the person for who they were, only the things they wanted to show off.”

“So,” he let out a deep sigh, “I told myself that if I ever met someone who could see me as just a poor painter, with little to nothing to his name. Just me, with nothing but myself to show off, and love me in spite of that… then I’d consider. I know it doesn’t change the fact that I lied to you, but… I can’t say I regret it because you proved me wrong.”

You felt your heart ache, wishing you could express to him just how much love you had for him, how much love he had been missing out on all this while. You wished to hold him in it for as long as you could.

“You were the first,” he murmured, “to truly see me.”

He pushed the sketchbook towards you, lifting your hand slightly to let it rest on the leather.

You recalled his words, how showing you his sketchbook would be him baring his heart to you, and somehow the thought made a wave of emotion wash through you. This was his way of stepping out of the boat, rushing to you after your heart called out to him, willing himself to be vulnerable for love.

“This,” he gestured to the sketchbook, and perhaps implied much more, “is yours now.”

Letting out a deep breath, this time his confidence showing in the firmness of his tone, the surety of his gaze, “I’ve come to realise that… it was always yours.”

Letting go of your hands slowly, with all the reluctance in his being, he stood up, nodding resolutely more for himself than for you.

“I should be taking my leave now… I… hope I’ve made my intentions clear.”

And you let him leave without another word, watching as his figure disappeared out of your door, past the sunflowers in your garden that looked as though they too were reluctant for him to leave.

Directing your gaze back to his sketchbook, you fiddled with the string, almost hesitant to open it out of a sheer want to treat it delicately.

His sketchbook, his art, his heart that he declared was yours now, that was always yours. You saw it clearly once you undid the little knot that kept it closed.

You saw it in the drawing of your hands on the piano keys, in the drawing of the view of your back as you walked away from him at the flower market, sunflowers peeking over your shoulder to look at him, in the drawing of your hands clasped in front of your dress holding the bundle of cloth wrapped around the honey biscuits.

You continued to flip the pages.

The image of your side view, playing the piano in his studio, the image of you tending to the flowers that he gave you, the view of you mulling the paint from where he sat on his stool. The view of you holding his sketches above your head as you decorated his studio.

It was as though you were seeing yourself from his perspective, ridden with a certain affection and yearning that felt so intimate to be looking at in such a way, knowing it was his hands that had conveyed you into this… permanence. It was sureness found even in the strokes of graphite against paper.

You dared yourself to continue to flip the pages.

You noticed that there were even more drawings now, multiple drawings of the same memory, as if you were watching the moment happen before your eyes again.

An image of your stocking halfway up your calf, your hands grasping it firmly by the hem. Another image of your hands around the delicate pink silk ribbon garter, in the middle of untying the garter. An image of your leg with the little sunflower on your ankle, another image of just that same sunflower alone.

An image of you in the field with him that night, the mouth of the wine glass touching delicately against your lips, an image of the little smile you mustered after tasting the wine. An image of the smile that hardly left your face that night as you looked at him. Next to the image of your smile, a drawing of tulips. An image of his view of you as you lay your head on his lap, looking up at him, almost embarrassing you as you saw how much affection you could detect in your gaze even then.

An image of your hand clasped around his, almost being able to remember the feel of his fingertips under your nails as you pressed them gently against his skin. An image of your eyes shut, lips gently parted, wildflowers peeking out from the grass next to your shoulders and his thigh as you waited for the feel of his lips against yours.

The detail of your features in watercolour as you flipped the pages almost made you feel as though you were looking at a mirror. There was nothing cold about what you were looking at, but instead all the warmth that came with your soul and his, reflected on the paper.

The whole sketchbook was filled with you, and in it, him as well. All the love he had for you in every line, in every shade, even in the pressure of his pencil against paper, in the colours that made his sketches come alive. This was his heart, for your eyes only.

In short, you felt loved.

Perhaps, this was it. The intangible thing you sought, love, made tangible in Youngho.

===

Dancing was tricky business, as you knew. And a rule that you couldn’t help but call to mind now was that if a lady like you were to dance more than twice with the same man in the same night, or furthermore refuse to dance with any but him, you were basically announcing to the world that the both of you were engaged.

It was all that rang through your head as you stood with your sister as the viscount had just returned with drinks for the both of you, slipping off your gloves to accept the drink as you trained your gaze on where your mother was a little far off from you, seeming to be in an intense conversation with Youngho.

“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” you whispered harshly to your sister, anxious as you watched from afar.

Her laugh caught you off guard, turning to her with wide-eyes.

“What else do you think they could be talking about? You don’t suppose they would be engaging in such a fervent conversation about paintings, do you?” her tone was sarcastic, laced with amusement as you frowned, huffing.

Sure, as you watched Youngho, he looked relaxed, radiating the same calm confidence as he spoke to your mother, even smiling while your mother’s expression remained almost surprised.

You figured that was a good sign, right? As opposed to if her expression was sour.

“I’m trying to read his lips,” Jaehyun murmured, “but I’m absolutely certain he just said ‘you have nothing to worry about’.”

Your eyebrows lifted. Of course it would be Youngho, saying that to your mother of all people. That was almost as good as pointing at a table and demanding for it to get up and walk.

Your mind was absolutely racing as you saw her nod, already making her way towards you, with Youngho following a few paces behind her.

Reaching you, you exchanged a look with your sister before turning your gaze towards your mother. Jaehyun stood beside her, looking on with evident amusement at the scene playing out before him.

Letting out a tired sigh, she lowered her voice to a murmur.

“I do not know what it is about you that has seemed to have caught his eye,” she looked as though she were in disbelief, “But the young man was so insistent on getting my approval for him to pursue a marriage with you. Judging by his demeanour, his background, I find no complaints.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, glancing at Youngho who stood behind her with a certain sense of pride that glowed within you. A pride that came with knowing that this was who he was— insistent, charming, sincere— and that did not change with his social status.

“He insists that he has already asked for your permission, is that correct?”

You tore your gaze away from Youngho, meeting your mother’s gaze with a firmness unlike Youngho has ever seen you show your mother, his own little pride glowing in his heart as he watched you.

“He has,” you told her, “and I have granted it to him.”

Your mother’s eyes widened just briefly, surprised at your tone, yet feeling as though she should have seen it coming at the same time.

She simply let out a breath through her nose, nodding.

“Then I expect you to see this through,” she told you, as though it were an instruction, “for a man with his status to be looking so favourably upon you, it is a miracle , if anything. Do not ruin this opportunity.”

You couldn’t help the smile that played at your lips, amused at the way your mother had no idea who Youngho was, and that she would continue to have no idea that he was the same Youngho she was forbidding you to see just weeks before. And you intended for it to stay that way, yours and Youngho’s little secret.

“Oh, don’t worry, mother. I definitely won’t.”

Turning to give him a sweet smile, Youngho felt his heart jump in his chest as he extended a hand towards you, asking you for a dance with such politeness that it almost made you laugh.

Following him onto the dance floor, you assumed your positions so naturally that it was a given that anyone who looked in from the outside would be able to tell that the two of you were well-acquainted.

And as you started to dance, somehow, it felt like Youngho was the only one you could focus on in the room.

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho.

Your little mantra of love began to echo once again with each beat of your heart, begging to reach his heart that you almost didn’t notice yourself saying his name.

Youngho smiled, a certain knowingness to his playful gaze.

“Yes, my beloved?”

Your lips parted, poorly hiding the way the words had sent warmth all through your body, the feeling of his hand pressing against yours as you waltzed, the intimacy of the choreography and the way he was looking at you making your head spin.

“Beloved?” you echoed, implication behind the word making you lean into him unconsciously, burying yourself in the security you felt in his hold.

Youngho let out an amused huff that turned into a giggle that bubbled out of him, “You sound surprised. It is no secret that I love you, Y/N.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“My head is spinning,” you admitted, earning a dramatic gasp from him, giving you a playful sheepish look.

“Sorry, perhaps I dressed too nicely today,” he drawled, the teasing lilt of his tone making your smile grow.

“Are you teasing me?” you scoffed, your smile removing any possible trace of menace.

Youngho pressed his lips together, the softest of smiles on his face.

“Not in the slightest bit.”

Feigning a glare at him, it didn’t last long the longer you held his gaze, the both of you poorly stifling your joy as little giggles threatened to escape you.

“I’m not going to impose on you,” he began, sounding breathless from barely having recovered from his bout of giggles.

“That’s questionable,” you took your chance to quip, earning a scoff from him.

“All I’ll say is, I’m going to ask you for a third dance. And what you choose to respond with is entirely up to you.”

Your tongue peeked out to wet your lips, the gesture making Youngho’s gaze shift briefly from your eyes to your lips, evidently having to force himself to bring his gaze back up to your eyes, looking at you with all the affection you wished you could immortalise in a painting.

Nodding at him, you let yourself enjoy the rest of the dance with him, smiling until your cheeks hurt. And you let it continue as he asked you for a third dance, the both of you not giving it a second thought as you continued to relish in each other’s presence, in each other’s touch, in each other’s love.

Oblivious to the murmurs and gossip that the both of you were inciting, you were only able to focus on him and him on you, protected and enveloped in the love you both shared no matter how exposed you felt in the room, just as how it should’ve always been.

Conduct books be damned, here you were, simply a lady in love.

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neowinestainedress · 7 months

Text

between us — johnny suh

title: between us

pairing: professor!johnny x lawyer!oc x fem!reader | husband!johnny x wife!oc x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself tangled in the life of the Suhs after Mr. Suh starts working as an English professor at your father’s university. You don’t understand why they float around you so much, but soon enough, you can’t get enough of that secret, dirty game anymore.

genre: smut, fluff, plot, mxfxf, married couple, established relationship, age gap, bisexual characters, aged up johnny (to his early 30)

warnings: age gap, daddy/mommy issues, smut, sexual tension, 3some, mxfxf, dom/sub dynamics, mdom, fdom(oc), fsub(reader), mentions of s*x toys, unprotected s*x, pet names (honey, babe, doll...), or*l s*x (reader receiving and fem giving), fing*ring (reader receiving and fem giving), n!pple play, dirty talk, praise, minor degradation, size k!nk, 1 face slap, 1 *ss slap, 1 cl!t slap, hair pulling, talks of face f*cking, dp and face sitting, sub space, overstimulation, reader goes non-verbal at the end, aftercare | inclusivity notes: reader’s hair can be grabbed bc i’m degenerated and needed to write hair pulling during or*l, there are no descriptions of the texture and type tho, reader wears hair in different hairstyles (not specified), reader feels small because she’s shorter than them and in general feels ‘intimidated’ (body type is not specified), no use of y/n

visuals

wc: 16.590k

a/n: i’m sure this isn’t what people were expecting when i talked about writing mxfxf, but what can i say, this idea came to me and i had to write it. at first, it was supposed to be less complicated, just hot steamy sex with two hot almost-dilf-and-milf but you know me by now, if it’s not deep and complicated we don’t write it here. disclaimer: they are all bi and this is not just a straight couple using a bisexual person to spice up their s*xual life, i can’t say more because i don’t want to spoil anything but i just wanted to make this clear. i hope you’ll enjoy, if you do please leave feedback with asks or reblog (so the story reaches more people) also this is the first time i write smut between two women so please let me know if it’s good!! love u ♡

The Suhs are by now a known presence in your life. Since Mr. Suh started teaching at your father’s university, it became almost impossible to not see him for more than two days straight.

You don’t feel like blaming your father. Actually, you get it. Mr. Suh is a charming, brilliant man in his early thirties. After years of studying and being an assistant, he started teaching English literature at another prestigious university, the one your father is president of. And in his free time —and you wonder how he did that— he even wrote a few books, the first ones being analyses of writers’ works, and then a successful mystery novel.

You like him, even if he intimidates you a bit. He’s a person you can have interesting conversations with, maybe too interesting. You can’t understand what hides behind his elegant attire; either suits and ties or brown pants and polos or vests, his brown hair is always pulled back, only occasionally some loose strands fall on his forehead and make him appear less put together. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him dressed casually, or crack a joke, but then again, it’s not really your place to know.

But Mr. Suh, also known as Johnny, is never alone when he comes to your parents’ house, or tags along at dinners, parties, and more, anything that your father likes to organize with his academic clique.

His wife, Aaliyah Taylor Suh, is always with him. She’s not less interesting or intimidating than him. Mrs. Suh is a drop-dead gorgeous woman in her early thirties like her husband. She’s an amazing lawyer, working at one of the top firms in the city, and probably that’s also why she comes off as piercing to you, it’s like she always knows what to say and do, and you struggle to keep up. And just like her husband, it’s also in the way she presents herself; she’s always perfect with her long goddess braids that reach her waist which is always perfectly hugged by the beautiful, expensive suits or dresses she wears.

This should pretty much sum up why you don’t talk much with them, even if they’re nice —at least it seems from the few conversations you had— you don’t feel at their level. Not only do they look like gods in your eyes, but they also fit the perfect stereotype of the rich, powerful couple that makes heads turn around every time they walk into a room —yours included— and the small, yet significant, age gap only makes it worse.

It would be easier to talk with them if your father wouldn’t constantly remind you that. He always had a passion to turn you and your dreams down, but since they are part of your life, it only worsened. Your father never misses the occasion to point your flaws out; how clumsy you are, walking around and stumbling on your own feet, dropping things every now and then, and messing up your words during speeches. Instead, he’s amazed by their brains and how quickly they became successful, they spent years on books and still never lost each other and found time to get married, they accomplished everything you haven’t, and it seems impossible for him to not slam it in your face.

And you agree, partially. You envy them. They seem to always be at the right place, at the right time, never saying a word wrong, and always looking straight out of Vogue. You’re also jealous of their love, you don’t know what a stable relationship looks like —not that you care to know, nobody your age seems to be doing it for you— unlike their stable, lasting marriage that is the deal closing off a just as long period of dating. They were high-school sweethearts, and you envy the way they still look at each other. Nobody ever looked at you like that, as if you meant the world to them. And you don’t understand how they survived all these years, you almost went insane during college, the two relationships you tried to have failed like a ship sinking in a storm. And now that you’re free, you’re still suffering the aftermath of all the stress you’ve been through.

So you struggle to understand why they circle around you like moths to a flame.

It all started months ago. At first, it was only longing gazes, you could always feel them on you, and you always thought that there was something wrong with you; your make-up smudged, your hair out of place, your clothes dirty or crumpled up, but, even if you weren’t like them, there was nothing wrong with you.

Then, one night, things started to make more sense.

It was late, around 10 pm. As much as you couldn’t stand your father, you tried to tag along as much as possible to find some connections career-wise. You could’ve asked him a favour —doubting he would do it— but you had no intention of making him take credit for your future. You preferred talking with his academic friends or critics on your own, it hadn’t been successful yet, but you won’t give up.

You were standing in the kitchen, a glass in hand as you tried to drown in the alcohol and forget every word you had heard from your father when Mr. Suh approached you first.

“Tiring, isn’t it?” Mr. Suh’s voice brought you back to reality. His build, tall form leaning against the fridge as he stared at you with a small smirk on his face, his hair was falling a bit more freely since the gel had given up after the whole night —day, you’d dare to say, you’re not so sure he had time to go back home and get ready for this dinner again.

You tried not to get lost in his beauty and swiftly hummed, nodding. “Yeah, but at least the wine is good.”

Mr. Suh snickered, starting to walk over to you, a hand in his hair as he shook it back. “Pinot?”

Your eyes moved up in his, he was standing so close you could feel his breath hit your face, and you struggled to find the words. Throat dry and hands so sweaty you were sure you would’ve dropped the glass on the ground. “Yeah, Pinot, or at least, I think so,” you mumbled, giggling awkwardly as you looked down and took a step back, trying to put some distance between you two.

“Can I have a taste?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, his piercing gaze staring right into your soul.

You should’ve told him that surely there were some glasses left outside, or maybe opted to take a look in the wine rack behind him, but you didn’t, and your hand moved to his almost right away.

You watched him smile in a ‘thank you,’ before his lips met the glass, alcohol pouring down his throat, a bit too messily for his usual put-together act, a drop dripping on his chin against his tan skin.

Mr. Suh smiled, humming happily as he handed the —almost empty— glass back to you. “As imagined, my favourite,” he winked.

“Oh, good — good. I — I like it too,” you slurred, panicking and feeling so small. And guilty because something about all of this felt so wrong and dirty and you immediately thought of Mrs. Taylor. Was Johnny flirting or were you too horny to think straight? They were a perfect couple, they couldn’t be cheating, right?

So, you scrolled your head, and said goodbye to him, quickly walking out of the room with the excuse ‘you were sure your father was looking for you’ but in reality, you just needed a breath of fresh air.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. You would find yourself alone with Mr. Suh more than you wished to, and he was always so subtle with everything that you started to think you were going insane. He couldn’t have possibly brushed his hand against yours as he walked by your side to go to his wife, right? And he couldn’t have willingly rested a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you, trying to make way to get to your father? And why would he call you ‘honey’ with that sweet, intoxicating, slightly condescending tone, and only when you two were alone? His voice was always sensual, but you could swear it would drop even lower when he had you alone in the kitchen or in the library you spent some much time in, lecturing you about some poem or book, watching as you hung from his lips.

Anyway, you thought you could deal with it, you would only see him when your dad invited them, and even if it was a lot, you could stick with your mother —a slightly more likeable presence to you that wasn’t best friend with the Suhs.

Things worsened when Mrs. Suh started talking to you. The first, serious, conversation was about a pretty boring thing, some case she was working on. But there was something in the way she talked to you, laughing as she dismissed the conversation and simply stared into your eyes before asking to talk about yourself. Unlike her husband, she was curious, almost as if she wanted to get deep into you and discover things you probably didn’t even know about yourself.

And you froze. You had nothing to say. Everything that came to your mind was either too boring or too wild to be known to her.

“So? Too many secrets to hide?” She joked, showing you her pearly white teeth before winking.

“No, uhm,” you mumbled, trying to find the words, but losing them again when your eyes fell on her hands, golden jewellery shining on her fingers as they wrapped around the flute so delicately and yet sensually before she brought the glass to her full lips tinted with dark purple. Your head snapped up, trying to control your breath and not show the erratic movements of your chest, and squeezing your thighs together for some reason. “I’m working. Yes, busy working and trying to survive my dad.” Busy. You wrote for a small magazine online that paid you dust; reason why you were back living with your parents and kept writing your book, hoping to finish it and publish it one day and get the chance to be as far as possible from that house.

She smirked, and you could see it wasn’t because she was happy with your answer but almost as if she was having the time of her life at the way you were acting. “So, work and dad make you, you?”

“No,” you replied right away, slightly offended too. “I thought we were talking about… about things… happening now.”

A low chuckle rolled out of her lips, “I’d love to get to know you better, you know? Your family is so outgoing, they can’t keep anything in, but you…” she paused, eyes looking at you up and down, “you’re so secretive, reserved, like a candy to unwrap.”

You gulped, fearing she had the wrong idea about you and her husband and was planning a way to kill you. Aaliyah wasn’t stupid, of course she had seen the way Johnny talked to you and, worse, the way you reacted. She was also a lawyer, a brilliant one, you doubt some of her clients were even innocent and yet they got away with everything, she could stand up for herself in court, and Johnny would find a poetic way to get rid of your body and turn this into the plot of his next success.

“I… I…”

“You should spend some time with us,” she said, smiling, crossing her legs and moving her braids behind, showing her cleavage, “you know, at our place, alone. No family getting in the way, no father painting you bad. Just adults having fun.”

“Oh,” you gasped, gulping as you felt the air in your lungs disappear. “Sure, I’d love to.” But the truth is, you wouldn’t survive being alone with them.

“Beautiful dress, by the way,” she complimented, getting up and walking past you, “shows all the right curves.”

That was the start of everything. Unfortunately, she had no intention of killing you. Instead, she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you better, saving you from your father by engaging in conversations with you when you were all at the same table, asking what you liked, and mostly, complimenting you. At first, it could’ve been mistaken for a ‘girls support girls’ kind of moment, but quickly you started to perceive something else. Her looks, her touches and her words weren’t any different than Mr. Suh’s ones, so lingering, so secretive, and teasing, feeling like a breeze that taunts your skin with a sense of relief that’s never meant to come.

Two months have passed since that moment, and your plans of keeping the distance crumble apart when you find yourself alone with them.

It’s not the first time, but you feel today might be more difficult to deal with. Your father is stuck with an idea of you from when you were five years old and in constant need of supervision, or else you can’t explain why he almost treats them as your babysitters.

‘We’ll be out today, look after her,’ these are the words your father exclaims before walking out of the Villa he owned on this lake abandoned by God, your mother already at the car parked in the driveway.

You’re not a child but you surely act like one, rolling your eyes and letting out a loud grunt before puffing out air.

Mr. Suh laughs, humming lowly before turning to you. “You’re still a child in his eyes, aren’t you? His sweet, innocent, little baby.”

That comment shouldn’t have had any effect on you, yet, it does. It feels like he is implying something else, it’s clear in his tone and especially his eyes. But you shake it off, laughing before replying ‘yes,’ and then running up the stairs with a faint goodbye. You hear Mrs. Taylor say something, probably asking you to stay, but you pretend you don’t hear and disappear into your room.

You can avoid them only for so long before you don’t know what to do anymore and decide to go downstairs —terrible decision.

You think they left, so you walk outside to read a book under the porch and enjoy a cold lemonade, but when you step into the garden you see them by the pool.

Aaliyah is laughing tenderly at Johnny who’s dancing on the trampoline, winking at her before jumping in the pool, splashing water around, making her turn around and cover her face more with the large floppy hat she’s wearing.

You feel like dying, this is not how you want to see them, and you have to force your eyes up, not making them fall on her ass. You’re still in time to go back, just one step behind and you can go upstairs as if nothing happened, but you’re not quick enough.

“Hey,” Mr. Suh greets you. “We were hoping you would join us,” he smiles at you, walking out of the pool by the stairs, scrolling the water out of his hair before pushing it behind.

You gulp, which is the only thing you can do to try to water your throat —and more embarrassingly, don’t moan at the sight of his sculpted body. And then you smile, a tight forced smile as you still stand like a statue. “Oh, I won’t join you, I just wanted to read.”

Mrs. Suh snickers and you watch her turn around to stand out of the pool, strong arms lifting her body up —and only now you realize that she’s pretty ripped too, the soft curves complimented by the signed abs, toned arms, and thighs.

“You go to the gym together?” Dumbly slips out of your mouth and by the time you cover it with your hands it’s already too late, but the comment makes them smile.

“You pay attention to details, don’t you?” She asks, clicking her tongue and smirking. She then takes the hat off, letting the braids fall on her back before she sits on the round table, pulling a chair out to gesture you to take a seat. “And I don’t train as much as he does, prefer pilates actually.”

“Oh,” you reply, momentarily bringing your attention to Johnny who’s now sitting on the other chair, leaving you the seat in the middle. “Heard is good for the body, nice choice.”

“Are you going to sit, or do we have to drag you here?” Mr. Suh jokes, head pointing at the empty space between them.

You shake your head, looking down as you take a deep breath and force your legs to work. You can do that, you just have to sit in the middle of the hottest couple you’ve ever laid eyes on and that for some reason loves to tease you, you’ll be fine.

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” she says when your ass touches the chair, book and lemonade resting in front of you on the round table.

“So, enjoying your break?” Johnny asks and then throws his hair back to scroll some more water out, but that makes you lose your focus and gulp nervously.

“Yeah, needed a vacation. Would be better if it wasn’t with my father,” you add, looking down.

She chuckles. “You two really don’t get along. Poor thing, he doesn’t get you, does he?”

You hesitate to reply, 1) you don’t get if she’s mocking you and 2) you wouldn’t care because the way she called you poor thing makes you feel things.

“He thinks I’m a child. I mean, he treats you like babysitters, I’m an adult,” you reply when your brain starts working again, and sadness fills your expression.

“Sure you are,” Johnny adds, chuckling, and you frown. “Sorry, it’s just funny that when you get mad at him, you act a bit childlike. Teenagers-like, if it makes you feel better.”

You sigh, frowning as you stare at him. “You think I’m stupid?”

“What?” He asks, brows raising.

“You think I’m as stupid as he thinks I am? Because the way he talks about me would make anybody think I’m this clueless, hopeless, dumb woman who has no idea what she’s doing with her life.”

Aaliyah chuckles tenderly, “Honey, you’re smart. Johnny can’t quite shut up about you after you two talk. He loves your takes on authors and the way you write, says he would love to have you work with him somehow.”

You almost stop breathing. He talks about you to his wife? He remembers what you say during your conversation or when you talk about what you write? Damn, you doubt people even listen to you.

“Oh, thanks,” yet, this is the only thing you mumble, and it’s fine like this. Anything else coming from your mouth could dangerously be a squeal.

“Anyway,” she says, leaning closer, making you move back and hold your breath, only to damn yourself when her fingers brush on your skin to wipe away something that dropped on you with the wind, “your dad’s not here now, why don’t you join us by the pool and stop stressing about him?”

You smile but shake your head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure? The water is perfect,” Johnny adds, standing up and towering over you. “Couldn’t convince my sweet wife to jump in but maybe you’re braver than her,” he winks, and you don’t have the courage to turn around and see if she saw.

“Oh…” you whisper and then look at the pool. If only he knew the problem wasn’t the water, you wouldn’t think twice about jumping in.

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Suh pleads, and before you can realize it, her hands are wrapped around your wrist. This is the first time she touches you, not a caress, not a tease, but a firm hold on you, and it shouldn’t send shivers down your spine, but it does. Her fingers are slim and soft, and you find yourself wishing you could feel them more, preferably somewhere else on your body.

“Wait,” you try to retort, but you have no choice. She’s dragging you to the edge of the pool and Johnny is walking right behind you, you’d be trapped either way.

“Here,” she says, coming to a stop when you reach the border of the pool. “Much better than sipping lemonade while reading a book all alone, right?”

“I don’t have a bikini,” you say, only now realizing you didn’t go downstairs for that.

“Are you wearing lace?” Johnny asks, walking so close that you can feel the heat of his body.

“Wh-why do you care?”

“Dummy,” he chuckles, “if you’re not, you can jump in anyway, it won’t ruin the lingerie.”

“Oh, of course, yeah, of course,” you mumble, looking away to don’t show how embarrassed you are. But their laughs —even if lighthearted— don’t help you at all, and you still feel trapped between them. “No, by the way, I have no reason to wear lace,” you add, trying to fill the silence.

“Really?” Aaliyah asks, tilting her head to the side. You turn around, facing the pool so you can look at them both —and fool yourself you have a way out now that your back is free.

“Well, yes… I’m… I’m not really people’s type,” you mutter, torturing the inside of your cheeks and your fingers.

Johnny snickers, “Weird, you look exactly like —” he doesn’t finish though, and you barely see the glance his wife gives him to stop him. “I’m sure you are someone’s type.”

You nod, but your brain is slowly melting, from the weather, from their closeness, and now because you can’t understand why she stopped him and what he truly wanted to say.

“Undress,” she says resolutely, and you’re brought back to earth, staring at her with wide eyes. “To swim… remember?” she finishes, head tilted to the side and a mocking smirk on her face. You know she’s having the time of her life watching you panic, you’re giving it all way, from the way your breath falters to the way your chest heavies.

“Sure, to swim,” you repeat but it’s more to ground yourself. You hope the water is freezing cold, so maybe your body can cool down, and so can your thoughts. You quickly lift your dress over your shoulders and by the time you can see again, you see them in the water, standing right in front of you, leaning against the other side of the pool.

“Are you coming?” Johnny asks, voice raspy but clear.

You hum, kneeling down, feeling the water with your hand. It’s not cold enough to calm you down and to make you take time, you have to jump in. So, you do. It’s not too deep and you can walk to them.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Aaliyah voices out, deeply breathing in the air and moving her fingers in abstract figures on the surface.

“Yeah. I…” you look down, watching your bra and how little it covers, the damp fabric highlighting your hard nipples even more.

“Shy?” It rolls from her tongue like venom, so sweet yet poisonous as her eyes lock in yours.

“No, no,” you laugh awkwardly. “Why would I?”

“We wouldn’t blame you, we can come off as quite intimidating at times,” Johnny says, the corner of his lips twitching in a smirk before it relaxes.

“You don’t intimidate me,” you lie, chuckling and crossing your arms on your chest.

She laughs. “My nipples are hard too, babe. It’s the cold,” she reassures you with a smile, but you don’t feel better. You’re not so sure it’s only the cold, you think they became this hard a few minutes ago when you were practically sandwiched between them.

“Why did you come here?” You ask out of nowhere, and their expressions change. “I’m sorry, it’s not like I don’t want you here,” you explain, “but you could do vacations on your own and don’t have to suffer through my father, so I don’t understand.”

“Thought we said not to talk about him?” She says, raising a brow.

“Well, I want to talk about you. You two have it all, you’re rich, powerful, smart, in love, and yet, you…” you float around me, always, constantly, “...you spend so little time together.”

Mr. Suh laughs, his head rolling back for a second. “We’re always together. I come home to her, not your father,” he jokes and she laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Also, this might not be the only vacation we will do this year. We always go to Santorini in September before Uni starts,” she adds.

You hum, biting the inside of your cheek.

“But let’s talk about you,” she says. “Why are you here? Your brothers didn’t come.”

“My brothers can do whatever they want, I can’t.”

“Why?” This time Johnny is the one asking.

“I’d let him down,” you add, lowering your gaze because you don’t like the look of pity behind their eyes. “But I don’t want to think about him. You’re good at diving,” you change the subject, addressing Johnny, hoping it will be enough to move the focus from you.

“Thanks,” he replies, a proud smirk on his face.

“Don’t stroke his ego, he’s going to jump again and splash around,” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

“You’re already wet, so why would it be a problem?” He smirks, and then turns to you and winks, making you choke on your own saliva, but you try to cover it up with a fit of cough, something that makes the couple giggle under their breath more.

Aaliyah swims to you, pushing you back so Johnny can have space and maybe don’t drown you with his jump. Your skin is on fire as her hands place on your back as she guides you and you’re thankful your feet can touch because you can barely walk, so imagine swimming.

“He was in the swimming team in high school,” Aaliyah explains, covering her eyes from the sun with a hand and squeezing them so she can watch Johnny. You mimic her, humming at her words. “He was so good, I think I fell in love on the bleachers watching him swim.”

You chuckle tenderly and try to imagine a younger version of them, and you can almost see them. You wonder if their personalities were the same more than ten years ago, you wonder how they looked, you wonder if they would’ve ever imagined to still be here after so many years. But in any version you come up with, you still don’t fit. Actually, it makes you look like a stain even more.

“Your love is… strong,” you whisper when Johnny finally dives in and she cheers before bringing her attention to you.

“It is,” she agrees, a sweet smile showing her straight, white teeth, “even though weird things happen sometimes.”

You giggle, frowning. “Weird things?” Your voice is shaking, and you don’t want to connect the two dots that are so vivid in your head.

“What are you talking about? Praising me?” Mr. Suh asks, grinning, running a hand in his wet hair before hugging his wife from the back and kissing her cheek.

“Not about you, nothing impressive about that jump,” she jokes. “About us.”

“Us?”

She hums. “I was telling her how I fell in love with you, and she said our love is strong.”

You want to ask about the weird things, you want to ask so much more, but you don’t. And you simply stand there, watching Mr. Suh’s hands wrap around her body, feeling jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

The whole thing gets more intense as time passes by. You’re curious about them, as individuals and as a couple, and you can’t deny the tension anymore. Not tonight.

The three of you haven’t really spoken, mostly because you slipped away as soon as you crossed ways, and after a few tries, they stopped trying to approach you. But the buzzing chemistry is strong across the room.

You try not to look at them, you even try to engage in conversation with your father —when he’s not attached to Mr. Suh’s ass— and some of his other friends, but it’s useless. Your head always turns in their direction, it’s almost like a voice is luring you in.

You guess you look dumb from the outside, and you’re sure that if you looked at yourself in the mirror you would tell yourself to work on the way you stare at —almost strangers— with eyes filled with lust. You don’t want to, you don’t want to look at them, even less with that wide-eyed gaze and agape mouth, but you can’t help it.

“Honey,” your mother’s voice scoffs, “what are you doing?”

You perceive her scolding —disgusted— gaze on you and you cough, looking at her to be met with her judging eyes. Typical of your mother, usually you only get her looks with no need for words to be added.

“Sorry, I was zoned out,” you justify, chuckling awkwardly, but it only makes her frown more and sigh. “I’m a bit tired,” you lie, trying to fool her.

“Just don’t look weird,” she dismisses you with a wave of hand. “Not more than the usual,” she adds, leaving you alone.

You roll your eyes, scoffing loudly once you’re sure she’s out of sight and then start walking to the table with the drinks. You’re not sure adding alcohol to the picture will make it better but who knows, maybe ending up passed out next to a toilet is better than lusting over a married couple that is probably just messing with you.

It doesn’t work.

You blame it on the hard drinks your friends make you drink when you go out, your alcohol tolerance must be out of the roof by now, but it doesn’t matter because your biggest problem still stands.

Your problem is standing on the other side of the room now that you’re sitting on some couches with the fourth drink in hand. You shouldn’t feel like this, stomach upside down and a frown hardening your beautiful features while you look at them. But you can’t help it. Mr. Suh’s hand sitting at the side of Aaliyah’s waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the maroon dress she’s wearing. You can’t hear her laugh as her head rolls back before falling on his shoulder at something the person they are talking to is saying, but your brain replays the sound anyway, and you smile.

The beam on your face drops quickly when her eyes lock into yours, Johnny is not looking, busy paying attention to the person in front of them, but her gaze is on you. It’s piercing even with the distance between you and it takes your breath away. You should make this look normal, raise a hand and wave with a small smile before turning away, but you don’t. You’re stuck, like you always are around them, and the only thing that moves is your heart, pounding fast and violently in your chest as you watch her every move, one hand bringing a glass to her lips and the other meeting Johnny’s on her waist. You’d love to roll your eyes and huff ‘he’s yours, we get it,’ but you only feel a stinging pain in your heart, and a less painful one, well… somewhere else.

The spell breaks when she turns around, eyes on her husband and laughing again as if nothing happened, almost as if you’re not even in the room anymore.

Your shoulders drop, your breath gets normal again, and your head lowers. It’s not normal to feel like this, especially when it all feels like a mockery at times. You know there’s no space for you. You can’t be her and run your fingers in his hair without getting scowled at for ruining it. You can’t be her and kiss him on the lips and chuckle when he rubs your nose against yours. You can’t be her and see him in the comfort of when he wakes up or goes to bed.

But you play and play, and fool yourself you can, getting lost in those fantasies. You need a breath of fresh air.

Just like the alcohol, the minutes spent outside to cool your body and mind don’t work. When you go back to sit at your spot, you realize they’re sitting opposite to you. You’d leave again but you have no excuse, and it would become even more awkward now that your father sits next to you. But it’s fine, they’re talking again with someone else and you can focus on what your father is saying. Or maybe not, his conversation with another one of his intellectual friends is boring, nothing interesting comes from his mouth, just old, recurrent, wrong takes. You’d get in the conversation, just to feel something else that night and end up in a discussion with your dad because you need to prove him wrong, but your brain is somewhere else.

Once again, in front of you. Mrs. Suh is sitting on Johnny’s lap, somehow her back manages to stay straight even if she’s not resting against anything, her long legs are elegantly crossed by the ankle and one of her arms is wrapped around his shoulder. You recognize the person in front of them, Mr. Kim Doyoung, a math professor, and you question how they know each other but it gets swiped from your mind quickly.

You hate how close they are. Their touches so subtle and yet so loud making it feel like they’re rubbing it in your face. You hate how people look at them, with so much awe and affection, you feel like only you can look at them like that. And you feel stupid, it is stupid.

But then it happens again, this time it’s Mr. Suh the one looking at you. All the anger and jealousy fly away. Thousands of eyes on them, and he’s still looking at you. His wife is in his arms, and he’s still looking at you. Your father is at your side, and he’s still looking at you.

You gulp, shifting on the spot to try to get comfortable and stop the painful throbbing between your legs, but it’s impossible.

Mr. Suh’s lips flicker in a small smirk, and then his brow rises, there’s also a small raise of the cup he’s holding, and you immediately turn around, just to make sure your father is not looking. You can’t believe he’s so bold, flirting —or whatever he is doing— not only in a full room but with your dad by your side.

You should hate it, you should leave, maybe even confront him, but you don’t. You’re actually quite ashamed the whole thing turns you on. It’s hot, and taboo, and taboo but hot. And come on, you’ve been subtly flirting with a married couple, this shouldn’t be the worst thing, but it feels like it. Because your father worships them, everybody in that room praises them, wants to be like them, and thinks they only have eyes for each other, but they don’t, even if it’s only a naughty game, their eyes are on you.

It’s you.

Their eyes skim around the room playing hide and seek with yours. Their hands tickle your skin in secret. Their bodies speak to you.

The whole room fades in the background, all the tension, all the problems, gone.

It’s only you and them.

Eventually, you start spending more and more time at their place. You tell yourself it’s because they’re easygoing and you can easily escape from your house —to be more precise, from your father. But the truth is, you’re starting to enjoy them more and more.

You still feel out of place sometimes, but it quickly fades away when they notice their conversation push you out by quickly pulling you back in, making light jokes you can understand, or asking about your day. You realize Mrs. Taylor tends to pick up on you quicker than Mr. Suh, while he prefers to ease you with tender touches, and you wonder if he knows the effect they have on you.

You still don’t open up to them much, fearing that if they discovered more, they’d quickly stop giving you attention.

Attention.

That’s another thing you enjoy about being with them. You feel seen. Even if their chemistry is over the roof, they never leave you out, you’re not a tapestry with them. They listen to you, even if you don’t say much, even if you stumble on your words and only give them a small peek. They look at you with sweet smiles on their faces and hum interested, holding conversation with ease.

And shamefully, the thing you love the most, they pamper you. It’s not like you’re poor —even if you have decided to don’t ask for money from your father, some privileges from your wealthy family come anyway— but they still spoil you. Expensive dinners in places you honestly never even wanted to set foot inside. Expensive clothes you doubt you even have the occasion to wear. They even gifted you a Cartier necklace that you keep stored away as your most treasured possession.

But their attentions aren’t only economical, they spoil you with homemade dinners at their place, movie night on their couch, and something more…

You lost count by now of how many times they get you alone and flirt with you, teasing you, watching you get flustered, chuckling at the way your breath falters when their fingers brush your skin or hair. It’s like a dirty game, you are their dirty game. But you don’t hate it. You know they both know what they’re doing, but you love this secrecy, the way you’re their trophy in plain sight and yet a dirty secret they have to hide from each other. It makes you feel wanted, desperately wanted.

And soon enough, you find yourself playing that game, too.

You wear your best outfits when you pass by the University, skin-tight skirts or pants, and just as skimpy blouses or tops with the excuse to borrow books from the library and say hi. Your lips are tinted red for Mr. Suh when he asks you if you want to pass in his office to help him with some lectures, and brown for Mrs. Suh when you casually pass by her firm for lunch or after work. Your hair is always in different hairstyles until you start to stick with the ones you see they like the most. And slowly, you gain some confidence to flirt back.

Your remarks are subtle, and your gaze shies away when they hold eye contact and only giggle or smirk teasingly. But it’s something.

Or so you think.

One second, you’re confident, and the other you feel like you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You start wondering if you’re pathetic in their eyes and are nothing more but a plaything for them to toy with and discharge when they’ll get tired of you. But nobody ever complimented you this much, calling you beautiful, caressing your face, loving the outfits you put together, and, most importantly, didn’t make you feel dumb. So it feels impossible to pull away from them. Even when your father starts getting mad at you about it.

He’s not dumb, and he has seen the way you and Mr. Suh sit in a corner and talk, he has seen that he greets you before anybody else —even before him— and he doesn’t like it.

“Johnny and Aaliyah have a beautiful relationship,” he starts, scolding you, “don’t try to screw it up, you’re not half of her worth.”

And that’s the first time you cry at night about it. You don’t want to listen to him, but you can’t help but question why they would choose you. Even if it’s just a game, even if it means nothing, you can’t find a reason why. You don’t know who started this first, but it’s not like it would be any different, they’re both hot, smart, talented and successful, and your father is right, you’re not half of her, or his, worth.

Yet, you can’t let it go.

If you know their townhouse by heart, you can’t say the same for their holiday house. It’s your first time being there after they invited you to their getaway weekend. You didn’t hesitate to say yes, pack your best things and leave.

You didn’t want to wander around but they left you all alone and didn’t show much of the house, so you took this opportunity to see a bit more.

The place is big; in the spacious hall, you’re met with the stairs once you enter, the big living room and on the right there’s the kitchen with a grand island in the middle and the table in front of the wide window. Farther down the corridor there’s a small bathroom and a room you couldn’t open. You’d like to go outside in the garden and chill next to the pool or under the porch, but it’s like upstairs is calling you.

On the first floor, there are the bedrooms and a studio. Your room —well, the guest room— is at the end of the corridor with a big bathroom next to it, while their room is at the end of the stairs, or so you guess.

You don’t want to pry, but curiosity’s got the best of you, especially after trying to open that room downstairs that won’t open. But you know you don’t want to find the keys to that room when you enter their bedroom —yes, you do, but that’s not the main thing.

Your lips part when you enter. It’s bigger than yours, with white walls and wide windows that let the light shine in making it seem even bigger. The big bed is against the wall that faces the door, and right next to the windows, there’s a small sitting room with a two-seat couch and two armchairs.

You should stop and don’t step further but you don’t listen to your brain.

On the wall in front of the bed, there’s a fireplace and on top of it there’s a television that takes half of the wall. At the sides, there are recessed shelves in the wall with books and elegant boxes, a lamp in front of it, and a lounge chair.

There are other lamps, all seem to be design pieces. Two long bedside tables that seem to be vanity desks of marble black. Some beautiful paintings are on the walls and you frown when you can’t recognize the artist, but they picture women and nature and you find them mesmerizing.

Then your eyes are caught by a rectangular red box placed against the wall at the side of the bed, it’s bigger than the bench at the end of the bed, and something about it screams at you to open it.

You shouldn’t, you feel like you’re invading their privacy —and well, you are— but you don’t stop.

You kneel in front of it, and a part of you hopes it’s locked somehow so that you can walk out of there and pretend nothing happened. But there’s no lock or key, you just have to lift the lid to see what’s inside.

Your lips part and a gasp comes out of your mouth when your eyes see what’s inside. You freeze. Close it and leave. Your brain screams, but you’re stuck, eyes blinking as you try to make sure you’re not making it all up.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hand falling from the lid to shakily touch what’s inside. There are other boxes but, for now, you don’t care to open them and only grab what you can see. Handcuffs, blindfolds, what seem to be whips but they all have different shapes and you don’t get the differences, ropes and other items you can’t name. The closed boxes have labels on them, lingerie, anal, vibrators, and dildos.

Your hands grab one, opening it, inspecting what’s inside with surprise and curiosity, and then another, and another. To be honest, you don’t know why you are so shocked, you own some toys —a vibrator and a small dildo— but you’ve seen much more than that, and it shouldn’t be surprising that a couple like the Suhs have freaky, kinky sex. Yet, it’s overwhelming you.

You are so caught up looking into the box that you don’t hear the door open and Aaliyah stand behind you with just a rope wrapped around her body.

“Looking for something?”

One of the boxes falls from your hand when Mr. Suh’s voice resonates in the room and you jump around in fear.

You mumble no sense, starting to panic while your eyes dart around the room for an escape. There would be many, the room is all windows and you could easily jump off the balcony to put an end to how embarrassed you feel right now, but you can’t.

Their gazes are piercing you and pinning you down against the floor and a feeble “I’m sorry,” is all you can say before your throat goes completely dry.

They snicker, starting to walk over you and you take a step back, but almost fall into the box. You don’t, not because your brain started to work again, but because Mrs. Suh has her arms wrapped around you to keep you from being bent in half into that.

“Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” she says, a veil of genuine concern and something else, a lot of something else, that you can’t decipher.

“I told you she was curious,” Johnny says, talking to her once she lets you go after she makes sure you can stand on your feet.

“I — I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking down and torturing your hands, but the toys abandoned on the floor only make you look outside. “I thought you were out.”

“I was,” Johnny says, “went buy something sweet for you. But it looks like you’ll get something sweeter tonight.”

Your brain panics, trying to assimilate everything they said to you. “You — you were home the entire time?”

She smirks. “Didn’t hear the water running?”

You sigh defeated, pressing your lips together and shaking your head.

Johnny chuckles before kneeling and talking to you again, “You’re lucky we didn’t want to use these on you tonight, I’m not really in the mood to clean them all up,” he says as he puts the dildos back in the box and set it aside, outside of the container so he remembers to clean them.

“On — on me?” You mumble still struggling to breathe.

Aaliyah hums. “All this teasing has to go somewhere, right?”

“I — I…” You — You… you wished this so much that now that is happening you don’t know how to feel anymore.

“You don’t want us?” Johnny asks with genuine care and your eyes widen, terrified they will get the wrong idea.

“No, I do, I do, but I don’t want to — I… I promise I’m not weird, I don’t even know why I came here, or why I opened that, it’s just so eye-catching, it’s red and nothing in this room is red, and…”

Your rant gets interrupted by two lips on yours. You don’t know who it is at first, eyes closed and brain and heart going off like sirens, running around with their non-existent hands in the air. But then an arm wraps around you and pulls you close, and you realize it’s her. It’s her soft yet firm touch, it’s her body against yours.

And then you’re trapped again, Johnny is behind you, and you feel small and powerless.

“We’re not mad at you, honey,” he says, fingers running against your neck as he moves your hair back, “we’re kinda glad you snooped around, we weren’t really sure how to initiate this.”

“Oh,” you gasp. “But I’m not weird, I’m not a stalker, I promise.”

“We know,” she stops you again, chuckling, “maybe you wanted to get caught. Johnny called your name when he was downstairs, you didn’t hear him?”

Your lips spread partially as you try to remember but you’re sure you didn’t hear his voice or the shower. “No, I… I think I was too caught in… into… well…”

They snicker.

“Naughty girl,” she mocks, gently cupping your chin. “Found something interesting?”

“Uhm, no…”

“No?” Johnny asks and you feel something against your bare thighs —wearing shorts was a bad idea. It has fringes and it tickles. “Not even this?”

You look down and see the black flogger in his hands and you gulp. “I never tried any of these before… I’m not even sure how some of these things can bring pleasure.”

Aaliyah chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, babydoll, you’d be surprised.”

“You want to tie me?” You ask innocently and they laugh.

“Nah, seems a bit cruel for our first time, don’t you think?” Johnny says, hands wrapping around your stomach.

First time? There will be another one? You think but you don’t ask. You probably already look depraved enough to their eyes, you don’t want to make it worse.

“So, want to have fun with us?”

“Yeah…”

“Hesitating?” She questions, caressing your cheek to soothe you but her touch only makes your body buzz in excitation.

“No, I still don’t get why you would want me,” you whisper, diverting your gaze.

“Have you taken a look in the mirror?” He says, big hands caressing your waist and lips brushing against your neck.

You shake your head. “I still think I don’t fit between you…”

She grabs your chin, lifting your head. “Then why don’t you stop thinking tonight, mhh? We’ll give you a reason to believe why you do fit, instead?” Her hands grab yours and she places them on the tie of her robe, if your fingers move and you let it fall to the ground the whole night will bloom. The consequences could be tragic, tomorrow could be the worst day of your life, but tonight might be the best one.

You don’t hesitate anymore; you’re curious, you’re needy, and you badly want to be pressed between them and feel their skin against yours, so your fingers dance on the tie and pull the robe open.

Your lips part to let out a gasp when her naked body unreveals to your eyes, and you get lost in it. Your eyes move up and down, taking in her perky, round boobs, her darker nipples hardening at the cool air of the room, and then they go down, to her toned stomach you have already seen before until they reach her soft hips, you bite your lips when your eyes fall between her legs, perfectly trimmed black hair covering her most intimate part, and lastly on her soft thighs and long legs.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out, feeling you could collapse just from the view, and you start wondering if you can take Johnny too.

Her lips lift in a smile and her hands wander on your body where her husband’s hands are leaving your body untouched. You press your lips together to don’t moan already, it would be so humiliating to do so, but it’s almost as if they know.

“Don’t hold back,” Johnny whispers against your ear, shivers running down your spine. “We take pride in what we do, and want to hear you.”

You hum, nodding fast before you feel dizzy when he pushes your shorts down, his body lowering to accompany them on the floor, his hot breath hitting your exposed skin before his lips leave kisses on your thighs and ass.

Aaliyah is busy taking care of your top, lifting your arms to reveal your bare chest. Your first instinct is to cover yourself, but she stops you with a stern look and a “Don’t.” Her voice is sultry, sweet like honey and intoxicating, and you can only obey. “It’s not fair when I’m so bare at your eyes, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe out, and then turn your head to stare at Johnny, the only one who’s completely covered. You don’t say anything, but your eyes speak louder than any word. You’re basically imploring him to show himself to you, your eagerness is burning out of you, yet he mocks you with a smirk and then a scoff.

“Later, honey,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t be greedy. Too much on your plate, then you can’t chew.”

His wife snickers, pushing him back from you. “Follow me,” she says, giving you a reassuring smile before turning around and walking toward the bed.

You hesitate, looking back at Johnny, asking his permission, and when he nods, you still feel stuck there. You need a light push from him to start moving your feet and follow her on the Wyoming king bed.

“I didn’t think you would be so shy, doll,” she points out, watching you hesitantly climb on the bed and crawl to her.

“She’s not,” Johnny replies for you, “she’s just playing with us.”

You stop in your tracks, looking back at him, mumbling to come up with a reply. But you stop thinking when her chest presses against your back and she turns your head to kiss you. Her hand reaches out to call Johnny to join you, but you don’t think about him until you feel the bed bend with his weight and then his hands on your thighs.

“Or maybe she just needs to ease into us,” she suggests. You catch she’s telling him something, it’s a quick conversation with eyes and mouthed words; you don’t get it, but you don’t care to get it.

You trust them. And you like the thrill of being at their mercy with no idea of what they truly want to do with you.

So, you let them. You let them move you, shifting around you as their hands gently push you flat against the bed and their lips start tracing your shivering skin. You hate that Johnny is still dressed but that thought quickly leaves your mind —or better, doesn’t annoy you that much anymore— when his fingers hook on the band of your panties and pull them off.

You squirm, hiding your face against Aaliyah’s arms but they’re quick at reassuring you.

“Stop hiding away,” Johnny says, “you’re beautiful, honey.”

But your confidence it’s not the problem. You’ve never been the centre of attention, you never had two pairs of eyes, lips, and hands on you. You don’t know how to cope with all of this.

You gasp when her lips wrap around your hard nipple and she starts sucking. And you can’t control your hips when his hands brush against the apex of your thighs before lingering over your sensitive pussy.

“Can I taste you?” Johnny asks, softly caressing your skin.

“Yes, you can.” You’re already short on air as you watch him lower his head, his eyes intensely staring straight into yours, making you feel so small and yet so safe.

Your legs go weak as soon as his plump lips touch your sensitive clit, he’s only leaving delicate kisses on you and small kitten licks but that’s not the only stimulation you’re receiving, Aaliyah’s mouth and fingers lick and pinch on your sensitive nipples are not helping you calm down.

“Oh my god,” you curse, rolling your head back when he starts eating you out for real. Tongue working with precision from your leaking slit to your throbbing clit, not leaving a patch untouched. His hold on you is firm, big hands keeping you spread, massaging your skin to help you relax even more, but with no room for movement.

“Look at you,” she teases, pulling away from your boob to pay attention to your face, “so wrecked and we barely even started. You love the way my husband is eating you out?”

Your eyes open to meet hers, and you regret it right away, the intensity of her gaze making you feel something you’ve never felt before. Sure, she carried around an intimidating vibe, but that kind of aura disappeared as the months passed and you grew closer, but this, this is different. She is dominant and firm, yet somehow you can always find that veil of care that characterized her.

You try to answer, afraid not receiving a verbal response will disappoint her, but your throat lets out an embarrassing whimper followed by a broken moan.

She snickers, shaking her head, and caressing your cheeks so gently it feels like she’s mocking you. “I know, doll, I know, he’s good with his mouth.”

You cry out in embarrassment but your head rolls back when Johnny sucks harshly on your clit and his hands move down to keep your pussy spread.

“Taste so good,” he mumbles pressed against your skin, the vibrations driving you insane. “So wet for us, you wanted this so bad, didn’t you? Our desperate toy, we made you wait for so long.”

You’d love to scream that yes, this took too long, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You somehow find the strength to look up, much with the help of Aaliyah who places an arm under your head for support, and you feel your stomach tighten up at the view.

Johnny looks like a starving man, messily lapping at your aching pussy, devouring you with his face buried between your legs, nose pressed against your mound. He’s so caught up he probably doesn’t even realize he tugs you closer when his arms wrap around your thighs.

Your eyes shut down and for a moment the image of the usual him crosses your mind. There’s nothing of the composed, elegant, and polite man you know, that man that your father loves so much, the same man that if he saw him right now, would have a heart attack. But you quickly push him out of your mind. You have no other choice when Aaliyah’s fingers add to the mess between your legs, and you bite your lips so hard you almost bleed.

“Too much,” you cry out, looking for mercy in her eyes when she draws them from her husband and your cunt to your face.

“Too much?” She coos with a condescending tone. “You’re bucking your hips against his face and want me to believe it’s too much?”

You groan loudly, giving up as your head falls against the mattress again. Her arm is not there anymore as she’s using it to support her body to tease you, and your neck has no more strength to watch him have the time of his life between your thighs.

But you’re not the only one groaning; Johnny’s moaning too, getting drunk in your juices and falling into madness as he tries to ease the painful boner in his tight jeans, grinding against the mattress for comfort.

“You’re so hot you’re making him hump the mattress, babydoll,” she points out. “That’s the effect you have on him. Still doubt you’re not enough?”

You don’t, not right now, you don’t want to think about it. Still, you shake your head, earning a soft, pleased smile and a “Good girl.”

It makes your stomach tighten, your toes curl, and your hands clench around the sheets. “Johnny,” you whisper, keeping your mouth parted as you try to let more air in, it’s a beg for release but you can’t find the words to let it all out.

The way you moan his name, so shyly, so weakly, a bit for the pleasure, a bit because you feel like it doesn’t belong to you —God if he finds it endearing the way you still call them Mr. and Mrs. Suh sometimes— makes his heart pound and his dick ache. You’re so fragile in their hands, right now, in his. He had wished to have you like this for so long; since his wife first brought you up and he started to look at you in a different light. Every time you spoke your mind during dinners, coming up with something that was too smart for your father to comprehend until he proposed the same point of view, only changing a few things. You deserved to be lifted on the table and eaten out like this. And the more you two talked, or your hands brushed timidly, the more he felt addicted. He couldn’t stop thinking of you.

And that was crazy, because the only woman he ever had was his wife, and never he would’ve imagined he could feel so attracted to someone that wasn’t her. And yet, the three of you are here, in the same bed, in the same mess.

When you call out his name again, he snaps out of his thoughts and looks up at you, the eye contact makes your head spin and you hold onto Aaliyah’s wrists. You feel like the orgasm will make you fly away, but before that, Johnny will kill you with just one look.

“Please,” you cry out, begging to be spared, or maybe not, maybe begging to be ended, begging for the release, begging to reach the best orgasm of your life.

“Let go, honey, come in my mouth,” his deep, sultry voice is the final strike that sends you over the edge. Body convulsing in his hold as he keeps you down and keeps sucking and licking you, eagerly swallowing your sweet cum, and moaning vulgarly against your burning hot skin.

You feel dizzy and high, and your body slumps against the soft mattress when your first orgasm ends.

“Want to see you,” you cry out, trying to lift your body and reach for him, but your limbs quickly give up.

Aaliyah chuckles, and you turn to face her. “We need to work on your stamina.”

You pout as you justify yourself, “It was too good, and I haven’t come like this in — well, never.”

Johnny chuckles, smirking proudly before he stands up at the edge of the bed. “Want to see me, honey?”

You nod with enthusiasm, biting your lips as your heart thuds in excitement. Your eyes lock with his fingers that are moving way too slow on their way to unbutton the shirt. But after what feels like an eternity, the blouse meets the floor, leaving uncovered his toned chest, arms and beautiful tattoos adorning the skin of his shoulder. But it’s not like you haven’t seen that before.

“What?” You scream annoyed when she covers your view, standing on her knees between you and her husband, giggling at your disappointment.

“He needs a hand, baby,” she chuckles and you huff again. Of course, they would fuck with you some more.

Every sound drives you more insane; you bite the inside of your cheek when you hear the belt open, and your heels tap against the mattress when the zip comes down, lastly, you groan in disbelief when you hear his pants and belt hit the floor.

“Please,” you whine, closed fists slapping against the bed.

“Fine, greedy little thing,” Johnny chuckles, and so does she as they finally give you what you want.

Your eyes and lips widen, and you gulp. “Oh… wow…”

They laugh, it’s a soft sound that creates a beautiful harmony, and even if they’re making fun of you, it warms your heart. The next thing they do is crawl to you to kiss you.

It starts with a soft peck on your lips, their mouths on yours meeting almost shyly, and then it gets heated, teeth and tongue clashing together as all of you try to have a taste of each other.

“Don’t worry, you can take it,” she reassures, kissing your lips, hands travelling down your stomach until it reaches your throbbing clit and starts moving in circles, making you gasp against their lips.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumble, glossy eyes looking into his first and then moving to hers. “Maybe you should.”

“Oh, I do, trust me,” she replies, smirking before kissing your neck.

“Tonight is about you,” Johnny reminds you, doing the same as she’s doing but on the other side. “It will fit.”

“Mhh,” you mumble, feeling weak and overwhelmed.

“Let me make sure it will fit,” she sings happily, now taking the spot between your legs.

You moan against Johnny’s mouth when her finger pushes inside you, humming in delight as she feels how wet you are. You can’t see her, eyes closed as you get lost in the kiss, but just her presence is enough to make you tremble.

“Look at you, it’s so easy to turn you into a puddle,” she teases, watching as you can barely kiss Johnny back. Something about the kiss you and her husband are sharing makes her head spin. There’s something about you, something new, something they’ve never had before. You’re so delicate, like a flower, and your petals fall perfectly between them. Just like right now, she’s sure there’s nothing in your brain, and yet your lips follow Johnny’s, messily meeting him in that slow, yet passionate kiss.

Your body reacts so nicely to their hands running on your skin, cupping and groping at your soft boobs to stimulate you everywhere as she works the second finger inside of you. They are experts at what they’re doing, sending shivers all over your body and pushing you further down into that haze.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, you’re so eager to feel Johnny inside, aren’t you?”

You mumble a reply as you finally pull away from Johnny, a thread of spit still connecting your lips, but you don’t notice until he breaks it off. “Want to feel him.”

They snicker, and then their lips are on you; Johnny’s busy leaving pecks on your neck before he pays attention to your nipples, and Aaliyah is focused on kissing your inner thigh and tummy as her fingers still curl inside of you.

“I don’t think you’re ready, yet, pretty girl,” she hums, curling the tips up and hitting your sensitive spot. That action makes your hips buck from the mattress and causes a louder moan to slip through your tortured plump lips. “So wet, dripping all over my fingers. I bet you taste so good, maybe I’ll get a taste one day, uhm?”

You squeeze your eyes, uselessly trying to calm your breath, it’s pathetic how fast your chest is moving in erratic movements, and how your hips squirm to search for more, even if one of their hands is on your stomach to keep you in place. You don’t reply but you internally scream that yes, you want her. You want to feel her soft, full lips on you, you wonder if she’s eager like Johnny or more meticolous, if she moans loudly or keeps quiet. You don’t know, but the mere idea makes a growl roll from your lips.

“She’s good with her fingers, isn’t she?” Johnny’s deep voice hits your ear, and you feel your body melt. Your head moves quickly to agree as you turn to the side to face him. He’s staring at you with a sly smirk on his face and before you can stop him, you feel his long fingers on your clit. You bite back a moan and try to plead with your eyes but it’s useless. Neither of them wants to stop.

“What, princess? We have to make sure you’re ready to take my dick,” he whispers, shushing your senseless sounds with a kiss.

You bite his lips by mistake when she pushes a third finger inside, eyes wide both in surprise and in a silent apology to Johnny.

“Too much,” you cry out.

But she tsks, shaking her head. “You have to be all stretched out for him, doll. You don’t want to break, do you?”

You shake your head before it rolls back, and your face contorts more. You don’t want to break but you feel like you might explode from this alone. She’s incredibly skilled in what she’s doing, it’s like her fingers are pumping and curling following the rhythm of a melody only she can hear, they hit you deep and fast, not giving you time to recover from each profound push.

“Just a few pumps and then he’ll fuck you exactly like you want,” she encourages you, her dark brown eyes looking softly at you, curling up in a sweet smile.

It takes you less than a few pumps to come undone, you don’t even see the orgasm coming when it washes over you, knocking air out of your lungs. It’s her two fingers pumping into you, curling and scissoring, after she pulled the third out to move faster, it’s Johnny’s thumb on your clit, flicking it swiftly, and his lips on your nipple, sucking harshly. But mostly, it’s them, the warmth of their bodies wrapping around you, intoxicating you like a drug that takes its sweet time to kick in.

Your body shakes, trapped between the mattress and their big bodies, and you feel like the room is spinning around you.

“You come so easily,” she mocks, pulling her fingers out once she’s sure you’re done, and slapping your clit, making you hiss.

Easily. If that was nothing to her…

“Naughty girl,” Johnny scoffs, pulling away from you and you whine when their hot bodies are not on you anymore.

You sigh, thinking since when you’re so pathetic and needy? You truly can’t last more than ten seconds without having them all over you?

“If you were ours that wouldn’t have gone unpunished,” he says, settling between your legs and spreading them apart. You barely noticed them moving around, already too far gone to be aware of what is going on around you. His intense gaze makes you shiver and more cum oozes out of your already messy, wet cunt. Johnny takes a deep breath, getting lost in the sight of you, your face is wrecked, your lips parted, your eyes watery, your boobs are heaving, and your hips are moving around, pleading him to fuck you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The compliment makes your heart swell and you weakly smile back at him.

“Come on, fuck her already,” Aaliyah encourages him, pushing his hips closer as she stands at his side, “she deserves it.”

You gasp under your breath when his hands wrap around the back of your knees and, with a strong tug, he pulls your body against his, the tip of his dick slapping against your core. He moves one hand down to grab the base and pushes his cock against your slit, it feels like forever as he rubs his leaking tip against your clit and every now and then pushes against your opening that’s fluttering, begging him to fill you up already.

“Johnny,” Aaliyah scolds sternly, looking at him up and down, and her dominance at the moment makes you shiver and moan, shamelessly. You try to close your legs to hide the effect it had on you but they both push them open, and somehow, the way they’re not paying attention to you, eyes locked into each others, and still have you under control, makes you whine even louder. “Stop teasing her,” she orders, cupping his chin and pulling him closer. “Don’t you see how badly she wants you? Dripping on the sheets like a kitten in heat?”

You frown at her comment even if well, she’s right. You’re sure you’ve never been this wet your entire life.

“As you wish, milady,” he jokes and in a second, he’s inside of you.

“Fuck,” you scream at the stretch, even if he didn’t bottom in, you still feel like you can barely breathe. “Oh, shit.”

“Damn, honey, I’m not even halfway in,” he comments, stopping and looking at you with a worried face.

“No, I’m fine, I was — too caught up,” too caught up in you two and I barely remember my name.

Aaliyah snickers, shaking her head. “You’re so cute, doll,” she hums, caressing your thigh, “just relax and take him all, uhm? He’s going to fuck you so well,” she says before addressing her husband, “right, Johnny?”

Johnny nods, smirking playfully before sinking further until his entire length is in.

Your head rolls back while pleasure dissipates inside your body, he fills you perfectly, stretching you so nicely. You feared it was going to be more painful, but it feels so good, and the pairs of hands soothing your skin are helping you calm down.

Johnny pulls you closer, beginning to slowly move his hips, hissing under his breath while your walls flutter around him so nicely, your wet, warm hole welcoming him with ease now that you’re not tense anymore.

And then it happens, for the first time that night, they kiss. You bite your lips with force as your eyes bore holes in them. Their lips move on their own, doing what they have been doing for a life now, and their hands pull each other close. You’ve seen them in similar circumstances before, but this, this, is different. Johnny is kissing his wife while he’s buried deep inside of you, one hand on the small of her back, the other keeping you spread, her hand tangled in his long, brown locks and the other intertwined with yours at your side.

Everything is oddly romantic and erotic at the same time. Everything makes perfect sense and no sense at all. But it’s fine. Tonight, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to worry, you want to roll around in this mess of limbs and skin and feel. Feel alive and loved. Even if it might be an illusion.

“Fuck, baby,” they moan when they pull apart, giggling at the way they’re in sinch even if for different things. Their eyes are on you again and while Johnny praises how good you feel, she praises how well you’re taking him.

And your heart jumps around while a dumb, drunk-in-love smile plasters on your face. But it swiftly drops when she moves up again to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. You try to study his expression, something flickers in his eyes, and they darken even more, you even feel his dick twitch inside of you, but you can’t make out anything of what she says.

Then Johnny’s hips come to an alt, and your throat dries.

“We were thinking you got to come two times already,” he starts, licking his lips, “and while I’m having fun with you, you will agree we kinda neglected Aaliyah, right?”

You nod quickly, eyes moving between the couple in swift motions.

“So, what do you think about turning around and eating her out while I keep fucking you?”

It’s like your brain sparks up and shuts down at the same time at his words. You nod eagerly, mumbling ‘yes’ while a small, fucked out smile creeps on your face.

“You want me, baby?” She asks, voice slurring out of her lips like velvet.

“Yes, please, want you so bad,” you reply, body buzzing in excitement as you take her body in.

You don’t have time to complain when Johnny pulls out of you, he swiftly turns you around, strong arms moving you as if you’re nothing for him, and given all the weights he lifts at the gym, it is nothing. Your body moves on its own, ass perking up while your face lowers down, close to the soft, perfumed sheets but not enough that you can’t use your lips.

And there she is, resting against the headboard with her legs spread right in front of your face. Her pussy’s dripping, clit throbbing in anticipation, and you envy how good she has been to hold it back for so long.

And even if your eyes are curious and sparkle with lust, she can sense your hesitation. “Come on, don’t be shy,” she encourages you, one hand gently cupping the back of your head, massaging your scalp, “don’t tell me it’s your first time.”

Well… not exactly, but you weren’t a pro at this either.

“Oh, you’re always on the receiving end?” She snickers, looking down at you. Eyes piercing you, pinning you down in your place. She has this thing, it’s like magic, one look and you’re right where she wants you, how she wants you.

“Mostly…” you admit shyly, looking down again.

“Well, time to change that,” she says before pushing you against her pussy.

Your lips move shily at first, it’s almost as if you’re testing the ground. Kitten licks are all you give her, licking up her sweet cum while your nose rubs against her clit. You breathe deep, getting lost in her aroma.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” she praises, hand still caressing you but not pressing you down. If it was somebody else —even Johnny— she wouldn’t have hesitated to do so, but with you, she wants to take it slow and guide you through it.

You moan against her when Johnny pushes in again, this time he doesn’t wait before his hips start slamming against you, but he’s not going too fast. And the pleasure he’s fucking into you urges you to do better. You try to do what Johnny did to you before and every other person you’ve been with, and be better than the other times you’ve eaten pussy before.

“Yes, pretty girl, focus on the clit,” she instructs you, moving her hand down to caress your neck, and when you comply, a deep guttural moan rips from her throat. She hums in delight and your heart flips with pride. “Use your tongue.”

You hesitately stick your pink muscle out and poke it at her entrance but she stops you with a click of her tongue, “No, doll, up and down, come on, you can do it.” When your tongue starts doing that, licking her from the bottom of her entrance to the top, flicking your tip right under the hood of her clit, her legs shake and she pushes down a hiss. “So, so good, babydoll.”

“Shit, you’re so hot,” Johnny moans behind you, his hands holding tightly to your waist as he fucks you on his dick. He never imagined he’d be so turned on by this, but fuck, this is the dream. Seeing his wife’s face while you pleasure her, hearing her moan because of somebody else mouth, especially yours, makes him feel something he never felt before.

“You’re so good, doll. Such a fast learner, aren’t you? So eager to please us. So eager to be a good girl for us,” she moans, her fingers inevitably clenching around the roots of your hair when you suck hard on her clit. You seem to have found your scheme, keeping her pussy spread while your tongue runs on her labia and then your lips wrap around her clit, swift flicks of your tongue and shy hands testing what’s better.

You nod against her without pulling away, you could, but you don’t want to. You want to get drunk in her juices, you want to feel her thighs clench around your head —even if she’s trying hard not to do so— you want to hear her deep, intoxicating moans, you want her to pull your hair harder.

“Yes, you are,” she coos, meeting your half-lidded eyes, pushing down a guttural moan when a lonely tear rolls down your cheek, “you’re such a greedy little thing. One person it’s not enough for you, you need more. Is this enough or do you need even more, ugh? Bet you’d love it if we both fucked you at the same time.” Her condescending tone sends your brain into a spiral, you feel empty and yet overflowing, but you can’t reply. Johnny’s fucking you mercilessly now, big dick hitting you deep, striking all the right spots, and even if you’re giving something to her, you have zero control. You’re at their mercy, small and powerless, flushed between their bodies as you somehow do something like a robot.

“Loving eating her pussy while I fuck you hard?” This time is Johnny the one teasing you, his voice deeper but he gives no sign of slowing down, even if the pleasure is getting to him, you know it from his grunts and the way his hips falter every now and then. “Bet it feels so good to be muddy in our hands and have no worries in the world, right? You’re perfect here, nobody to impress,” he moans, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear while his body presses you closer against the bed, “no father to make happy. Just us. Honestly,” he groans, pulling back, squeezing your hips before driving all the way in with a decisive thrust, sending you forward, “he’d have a heart attack if he saw you like this.”

You whine, your laments muffled by Aaliyah’s body, and you feel like you could explode. Is this why you like being with them so much? Because the fact that they like you so much proves your father wrong? The very people that he worships are busy worshipping his daughter while he trashes her around. But you don’t want to think of him, one, it could ruin your orgasm, two, you have them, and that’s all that matters. And to be honest, you love being with them so much because they value you and appreciate you for who you truly are.

You pull away, letting your fingers take the place of your mouth, rubbing on her clit while you talk, “want you, want more, please.”

“More? What’s more than this?” Johnny asks, snickering.

“Sit on my face?” You ask shily while you look up at her, cum and spit dripping down your chin, eyes glossy with tears.

She loses herself in the sight of you. You’re perfect even if you look like a mess, even if your eyes roll back and your lips part open when Johnny hits your sweet spot another time. “Oh… let’s not pull your luck too much tonight, hum?”

“But I —”

“But you, nothing,” she shushes you up, two fingers on your mouth. “You’re being so good, giving me pleasure while you take him so well. Just keep going.” She’d love to sit on your face, only being able to watch your eyes slowly blank as her hips roll against you, while your pretty hands wrap around her thighs as it slowly gets harder to breathe, but you’re not ready for that, yet.

You give up, starting where you stopped. But soon enough you’re whining again, “No, please, please, Sir,” you cry out, looking back to meet Johnny’s gaze for a split second.

He seems a bit startled by the way you address him, but he quickly shakes the surprise off to tease you with a condescending tone. “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you wanted more?” The pout that accompanies his words makes your stomach twist in a knot. You did want more, but the more was being smashed underneath them, not having his skilled fingers rub quick circles on your over-sensitive clit.

“I — I don’t want to come again,” you cry out.

“Oh, you won’t,” she speaks instead. “Don’t get too greedy and take it,” she orders, cupping your chin before pushing you between her legs again. Her patience could only last this long before she would snap.

“Right, because you can take it, right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head to get a peak of your flustered face. You’re burning up, sweat pearling your skin, the shorter hair sticking to your forehead, eyes blinking out tears of pleasure, and body squirming while you try so hard to keep focus on the only thing you have to do.

You doubt you can, but you still nod, moans getting choked up in your throat and against her cunt as you try to use your tongue and mouth the best you can even if control is slipping out of you more and more.

Fighting the orgasm is probably worse than keeping focus. Your stomach is upside down, and you feel all your nerves tense up, every single touch makes you jolt up and you know your throat will be sore by the end of the night for all the moans you’re letting out.

And you slip, eyes closing and mouth getting lazy as your body limply gets slammed between them.

“Hey,” you’re startled when her palm meets your face in quick, light slaps to wake you up, “don’t you fucking dare,” it’s the only warning that slips from her mouth, so sternly it should make you obey on the spot, but it only makes it harder for you to hold back. “Put that mouth to good use, come on.”

You don’t have a choice —not that you would want to do anything else— when she forces your face down again, this time grinding her hips against you to help you out, or honestly, to fuck herself against you because you’re not doing so much anymore.

She scoffs, “You’re being so good for Johnny, bet your pussy is sucking him in so well, dripping down to his balls and clenching tight, you can’t do one thing for me?”

You gasp for air when she yanks you back by the end of your hair, letting you breathe again, watching the tears fall freely from your pretty eyes. Your lashes are clumped together, and some mascara stained your cheeks; so, so pretty, she could stare at you forever.

“I can. I — I promise, I’ll be your good girl, I’ll give you what you want, fuck,” you mumble, words tangling on your tongue.

You’re so fucked out that spit is dripping down your chin, mixing with her cum, and she can’t fight the urge to smear it on your face.

Aaliyah could come by that sight only. To think when she first saw you were shily standing in a corner, trying to have less attention possible on you, stuttering your words at the speech your father made you hold, and almost fell down the stage. And now, you’re a mess in their bed, far away from home after you followed them blindly.

“Good, then use your fingers, come on,” she orders, biting her lips as you struggle to push your body up to finger her. This is exciting, with Johnny it had always been a fight for dominance, but with you, everything works perfectly, you fit between them with ease.

Johnny’s hands help you stand up, but he can’t deny how hot he finds the way you can’t control your body. He wishes he could see your face, you must be so pretty all messed up, but he’ll use his imagination.

“Come on, honey, fuck her, she took such good care of you,” Johnny encourages you, and that’s all you need to push two fingers inside of her. Her warm walls welcome you with ease, cum coating them until it drips down on your wrist.

Aaliyah’s face twists in an expression of pleasure as soon as you start curling your fingers. You’re definitely better with them than you are with your mouth, but it’s fine, there will be time to practice if you ever want to stick around.

“Good girl,” she praises, caressing your cheek gently before pulling you in a kiss. Doing so, Johnny slips out of you, and you whine at the loss, but soon enough he’s fucking into you again.

“Won’t — won’t last long,” you whimper, crying more as you feel heavier.

Johnny hums, pushing you down again and you lazily go back to lapping on her pussy while your fingers keep moving.

“Come here,” you hear him say, but he’s not talking to you. You can’t see, but you know they’re kissing because you feel smaller and more trapped as their bodies get closer, and then the wet sounds of their lips hit your ears. Their moans mix in their mouth, and you can feel the desperation they’re sharing as their teeth clash together.

You want to kiss them too, but you have other things to worry about, like the orgasm you can’t hold in anymore.

“Want to come, please,” you beg, tears adding to the mess between her legs as you try to gasp for more air.

They pull away from the kiss, bringing their attention to you another time.

“You want to come?” You nod swiftly. She’s sure you’re not doing it on purpose but the way your big eyes are looking up at her and your lips tremble, make her heart warm up. You’re so precious. “Then don’t stop fucking me,” she orders, voice low that causes your stomach to twist again. “Don’t stop being a perfect, little, mindless fuckdoll for us.”

Johnny growls, rolling his head back, “Fuck, stop talking to her like that, she’s squeezing me.”

Aaliyah chuckles darkly, sweetly mockingly caressing your wet cheeks. “You want me to stop talking to her because you can’t handle a sweet pussy sucking you in?”

He rolls his eyes and throws his head back, scoffing at her comment.

“It’s not my fault she likes it when I talk down to her,” she coos, looking at him but her words hit you deep. It’s so humiliating the way they’re talking about you as if you’re not here, and yet, it only makes you wetter. “I could do so much more, but I doubt she can take it.”

I can. You scream, but it stays inside your brain, no words can come out of your mouth anymore.

They both giggle at your broken moan that comes out as a reply.

“No thoughts left in that little mind of yours, uhm?” Johnny teases, his fingers playing with your nipples making you cry out more.

Your head is abandoned on her thigh, drool dripping out of the corner of your lips while your fingers pump in and out in tired, messy movements. You’re so far gone that she has to help you fuck her by guiding your wrist.

“Except how good it feels to be surrounded by us. You love it when we trap you between us and make you feel small, don’t you? Bet you’d love it even more if I fucked your mouth with a toy while he fucked your pussy, or maybe the other way around.”

You yelp when someone smacks your ass, you don’t care to figure out if it’s him or her. It doesn’t matter, it only adds to the pleasure and dizziness.

“Or maybe we could each take a hole and stuff you til you break,” Johnny giggles lowly. “Your tight ass and pussy spread by us.”

“Please,” you cry out. Please make me come and please do it. Please fuck me at the same time, from both ends and until I’m nothing between you. But it stays inside, they get it anyway, like they get all of you.

“C’mere,” Johnny chuckles as he manoeuvres you, lifting your body and pushing you closer to his wife. You’re kneeling now, body slumped against hers while he presses you flat, your fingers still moving inside of her while you moan in the crook of her neck. It feels warm, almost romantic, and you feel so small.

The hand that is not helping you fuck her, wraps around your waist and starts rubbing circles on your burning hot skin, meeting Johnny’s that doing the same.

“Look at you, doll, you’ve been so good. What do you say, John, should she come?” Aaliyah’s voice is particularly sweet, reaching your ear like a faint melody and you feel farther and farther from your body.

“I think she deserves it,” Johnny replies, kissing your neck to distract you from his hand slipping down to your clit.

Your teeth sink into her skin, making her hiss, not in pain but most in surprise, and your face wets even more while a loud sob rips from your throat.

“Come on, princess,” she whispers close to you, leaving pecks on top of your head, “be a good girl and come with us.”

You don’t let them tell you twice when their pace fastens and all the stimuli get to your head one last time. This orgasm is like an explosion that leaves you trembling between their bodies, whimpering and moaning as the violent waves shock you to the core.

“Fuck, so fucking tight,” Johnny murmurs under his breath, hips slamming messily against your ass as he chases his orgasm. He’s caught up in your face before his eyes fall on his wife’s pussy, you stopped fucking her and she’s trying to rub her fingers on her clit, if you weren’t so far gone, brain mush in your skull, she would’ve said something, but she knows is no use now.

You’re collapsed on her body when your eyes trail between her legs, watching in awe as Johnny’s fingers fuck her fast and his thumb rubs her clit as he keeps pouding into you. Their moans are louder as they approach their release and her head falls against the board of the bed while her hands clench around your waist to hold onto something.

And you come again. An unexpected fourth orgasm washes over you, ass arching up and nails sinking into her thigh as you feel as life is being sucked away from you, and that’s what pushes them over the edge, your soft, broken whimpers mixing with theirs and your low mumbles of their names, it’s not Mr. and Mrs. Suh, is Johnny and Aaliyah now, only for you.

More curses fill the air before everything comes to a stop, Johnny’s body falling on yours for a second before he forces himself to pull out and roll to the side.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Come here,” she whispers, soothing you as she pulls your body closer, hugging you and caressing your back and hair. You’re still shaking and crying, and your hands wrap quickly around her. “You’re fine, we’re here. It’s over.”

Soon after you feel Johnny’s hands too, and then his soothing words. “You’ve been so good, princess. Was it fun?”

His question is left unanswered, and they understand it will take you a while to start talking again. So they keep whispering sweet words to your ears while their hands calm you down with gentle touches. You don’t remember how long it takes before you fall into a deep slumber, but you know you feel a sense of peace you never felt before.

When you wake up, the clock hits midnight, you’re alone in the bed but you’re cleaned up and you’re dressed in a white shirt that reaches your thighs.

Somehow your legs carry your body out of the room and down the stairs where you take a sigh of relief seeing them laughing as they sit at the table. They’re dressed again, Johnny’s hair is brushed in its place, and her braids are pulled up in a bun again, they look as composed as usual but more familiar.

“Hey, you’re up?” Johnny is the first one who sees you and welcomes you with a sweet smile.

“We were starving. We wanted you to eat but you fell asleep, and for how intense it was we figured you were going to sleep until morning,” Aaliyah explains, moving a stool so you could sit between them, tapping on the seat to signal you to reach them.

You push your feet forward, legs wobbly and heart still racing, but this time is not the orgasm. You’re still lost in the haze, but now you’re fully aware of what happened, and you don’t know how to act in the aftermath.

“Are you alright? You stopped talking, it worried us a bit,” she says, lifting her hand to caress your nape after she tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nod, shoulders dropping as the tension disappears at her touch. “I’m fine. I guess it was a lot, it never happened before.”

Johnny comes back to you with a glass of water and some bowls with different food, leaving you a choice between fruits, something sweet, and something salty.

“Thanks,” you reply, grabbing the glass and gulping it in one go. “Honestly, I’m not really hungry,” you say, eyes diverting their gazes, there’s still a bit of worry behind them and you’re not used to people caring so much for you, especially after sex. You don’t think you ever saw a one-night-stand the morning after, but not even your exes cared much about how you felt after sex.

“No? Do you need something else?” Johnny asks, a caring tone filling his words, and the look in his eyes is different than all the other times before.

You look around, shaking your head, your throat is dry again and from the corner of your eyes, you see her filling the glass again. You smile shyly before drinking it. “I… I don’t want to sleep alone,” you confess, biting your lips and playing with the hem of the glass in your hands.

They smile, hands cupping yours before holding tight. “We had no intention of leaving you alone,” they say at the same time, making you smile.

“A bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Johnny jokes while Aaliyah leaves to put the food back in its place. You might be awake but it’s clear as daylight that you’re still tired and want to sleep.

“Mhh,” you mumble. Your eyes lift to look at Johnny and you smile. He looks beautiful, the faint silver light of the moonlight paiting his cheekbones and hair.

“And still not very talkative,” she adds when she comes back, a soft look in her eyes. “Come on, there’s no need to talk, let’s get you to bed.” She stretches a hand out and you quickly grab it, jumping off the chair but regretting it when your legs make it known they’re not back just yet.

You gasp when two arms wrap around you and lift you up, and soon you’re met with Johnny’s eyes. You smile at him before locking eyes with her who’s following behind and quickly is at your side.

“Thanks,” you whisper because he’s carrying you but mostly, for the night you spent. You decide you will worry tomorrow, for now, you feel full, they made you feel wanted, and dare to say, even loved. It’s all that matters.

“You have to be grateful, he stopped carrying me upstairs a long time ago,” she jokes and Johnny scoffs, “Liar.”

And soon the three of you are in the bed again, the dirty duvet is not on the mattress anymore and a thinner blanket covers you. You’re in the middle, pressed between their bodies while they leave kisses on your face, and whisper sweet words to you, their hands intertwined on your stomach while their thumbs rub small circles on your skin.

And as sleep takes over you again, you think that there’s no other place you’d rather be, if not between them.

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ncityprincess · 3 months

Text

The one before the big ‘three-oh’

Minors do not interact

Happy 29th Birthday to the boyfriend of all boyfriends, the one and only Mr. Johnny Suh🫦🎂

“Man, tonight was crazy fun y/n! Thank you so much, really. How did you score box seats to the Bulls vs the Lakers babe?!” your giddy fiancé exclaimed, high off of the evening’s events. You had just gotten back from the basketball game you surprised Johnny with for his birthday. The tickets cost a pretty penny, but it was worth it. Johnny made all other 364 days of the year magical for you. He deserved a special experience for his big day. It was the least you could do.

Johnny turned on the lights in the house as you took your heels off and set them aside. “Oh don’t worry about it baby. I’m just happy you had a fun birthday. How does it feel being 29, big guy?” The two of you migrated into the kitchen, your typical hang out spot in the house. You loved your little life you’d built with Johnny. From having to share a slice of pizza in your college days, to now being full grown adults and making a comfortable life for yourselves, it was these little moments you looked forward to in life. Making memories with the love of your life made you feel warm inside.

Johnny grabbed two water bottles and handed you one, opening it for you. “You know, normally I’d say I feel the same as any other age, but this year I truly do feel every bit of 29. I guess… it just feels like a serious number because it’s the last one before the big ‘three-oh’, ya know?” Johnny walked up to the barstool you were sitting on and stood in between your legs, cupping your dolled up face. You gave him a tiny, empathetic smile and caressed his large hands.

“You’re gonna be as sexy as ever once you hit those 30’s…just saying” you joked, hoping to soothe his thoughts a little. Johnny tossed his head back and snorted, “wow, thanks babe.”

You giggled along with him, rubbing your hands up and down his broad back. “You’re blossoming into such an amazing man, John. Seriously. I fall more in love with you each day, and it’s an honor that I get to do life with you. I love you so much honey.” Johnny couldn’t hide the blush creeping up on his face even if he wanted to. Of course, always the man of action rather than words, Johnny bent down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. The action said more to you than any sweet words could.

After the kiss slowed, you pulled away from him and ran your hand across the front of his thigh. Maybe there were a few more birthday festivities you had planned for your man…

“Why don’t you uh, get us some wine and meet me back in the bedroom in a few, big boy.” You shot him some flirty bedroom eyes, something you knew he couldn’t resist. Johnny gave you a knowing smile and backed away from you slowly, holding a hand out to help you down from the barstool. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, and you walked out of the kitchen with a little extra sway in your hips, feeling Johnny’s lingering gaze on your ass.

After giving you what felt like enough time to plan whatever you were conjuring up in that pretty head of yours, Johnny walked into your shared bedroom with two wine glasses in hand, just like you’d asked. He noticed that the lighting was slightly moodier than normal, and took note of the sexy playlist that added to the ambiance in the room. You walked out of the en-suite bathroom wearing nothing but a crimson red silk robe, and a pair of black stilettos.

“Oh well well well, what do we have here baby?” Johnny said as he took in your sexy little look. He gently placed the wine glasses down on the dresser, never taking his eyes off of you. You flipped your hair, the drinks from tonight and the desire to please your man for his special day heightening your confidence. “Hmm, well I guess you can call this your other birthday present, baby.”

“Oh? You mean, it gets better than box seats at the Bulls vs the Lakers?” Johnny flirted. “Why don’t you come unwrap it and find out, daddy.” With that, Johnny all but charged at you and kissed you passionately. You let out a sensual moan, running your hands all over his broad body. After a few moments of making out, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed him back slightly. “You know what daddy? You’re always working so hard for me. Why don’t you go sit down in the chair? Let me take care of you.” Johnny was hooked under your spell. He would do just about anything for you right now. You guided him toward the chair in front of your bed, and he subconsciously followed.

He looked up at you, mesmerized as you started to put on a little show for him, rubbing your hands all over your body. Your fingers kept dancing toward the rope holding your robe together, but you wanted to drag it out a little more. As if it were right on cue, a particular birthday song popped up on shuffle. The familiar intro played throughout the room, but once the first verse started, the air in the room got a little lighter.

“Wow, very on the nose babe” Johnny snickered. You cracked a smile, giggling at the incredibly literal lyrics of the song. Birthday Sex by Jeremih seemed like an appropriate addition to Johnny’s birthday playlist you had curated beforehand, but in hindsight it did seem a little cheesy. You playfully slapped his arm, slightly embarrassed but also grateful that you two were close enough to be able to share a laugh in intimate situations like this. Yet another reason why you loved Johnny so much. “Shut up!! It seemed like a good song to include at the time. Just sit back and watch, big boy” you scolded lightheartedly.

Johnny held his hands up in retreat, signaling that he was done with the jokes and ready to focus on you. Your hips found the rhythm, and swayed along to the beat. After a few moments, Johnny was hypnotized by your seductive movements. He admired how sexy and confident you were, loving how you moved your body. How did he get lucky to have such a beautiful woman like you?

Johnny’s upper body bent towards you as your fingers inched closer and closer to the tie holding your robe together. You gave him a sexy smile, and played with him a bit. “Aw, you wanna see what’s underneath, don’t ya big guy?” Johnny frantically nodded, licking his plump lips in anticipation. You finally undid the robe, letting it fall to the floor at your heeled feet. There you were, standing stark naked in front of your fiancé. A wave of confidence flowed through your body.

You turned around and bent over slightly, giving Johnny a nice view of your glistening pussy. Johnny let out a soft “fuck”, much to your amusement. You walked back over, stopping right in front of Johnny. His hands automatically moved to your bare ass, rubbing it in appreciation. He looked up at you as if you were the only woman in the world, and it made you feel you alive.

As much as he loved your little peep show, his dick was going to bust through his pants at any second now. Without warning, Johnny stood up and pushed you back onto the bed, shoving his dress pants off and towering over you. You looked up at him dumbfounded, still amazed by the fact that he could manhandle you at any given second. “Babe—baby I’m supposed to be on top of you. It’s your night remember!” You pleaded. Surely he deserved to be the one serviced tonight.

“Shhh, you’ve done enough for me sweetheart. Just need be inside that sweet pussy now. Is that okay, baby?” Johnny looked down at you like the big bad wolf, ready to eat you whole at any moment. How could you resist an offer like that? “Yes daddy. Want you deep inside.”

With that, Johnny rubbed his leaking tip a few times and slowly sank into your dripping pussy. You both moaned in unison, relishing in the closeness of the position. Johnny gathered your thighs on his biceps and placed them around his waist. You locked your ankles in place, bracing yourself in preparation. He built up a strong, quick pace that had you moaning like a whore. “Fuckkkk John you’re so deep baby” you moaned out, wrapping your arms around his neck. Johnny sucked on your earlobe as he pistoned roughly into you.

He was grateful in moments like this to live in a house with just you two in it. Gone were the days of having to tip toe around neighbors and roommates and figure out sneaky ways to pummel your sweet little pussy. He didn’t have to share thin walls with anyone. He could pound into your hole without a care in the world. This is true adulthood, Johnny thought to himself.

Your whiney mewls brought him back to reality, and he turned his head to look down at your gorgeous, fucked out face. Your eyebrows were stitched together, looking up at him with large doe eyes. He loved when you got like this. “Feel good baby? You’re making me feel real good. Yeah that’s it, just lay back and take it.”

You threw your head back in ecstasy, digging your manicured nails into his shoulders. “Ooh daddy I’m so close.” Johnny snuck a hand down to your sex, and rubbed soft circles into your clit. He knew how much you loved a little extra stimulation when you were close to cumming. A couple more thrusts and you were creaming all over his thick cock. Johnny let out a long, deep groan and soon after, you felt warm spurts of cum deep inside you. Johnny thrusted a few more times before he completely stilled with a satisfied groan.

“Fuck baby, this has to be the best birthday I’ve ever had” Johnny said sincerely, playing with some loose strands of your hair. You giggled, still slightly out of breath. “Aw, honey. There’s plenty more where that came from.” You pressed a soft kiss to his nose, and Johnny smiled mischievously.

“I hope you’re not just talking about birthdays, my love.” And with that, Johnny rolled you onto your stomach for a celebratory round 2.

The end 🎂

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fadedncity · 2 years

Text

wc: 2.5k

pairing: hades!johnny x persephone!reader

cw: smut, greek gods!au, husband!johnny, fem!reader, pet names, teasing, use of titles (king, queen, your majesty), oral sex (receiving), fingering, body worship, finger sucking, riding, mating press, lil bit of praising, creampie, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, lowkey dumbification

song rec: won’t by tanerélle | aphrodite by rini | in a week by hozier | 7th heaven by quin

"Where is she?"

"Where she always is."

Johnny's long legs carried him in long strides through the palace, bursting through the doors at the end of the corridor.

The moment he stepped outside, he could already feel your warmth radiating through the entire garden, looking much more lively than in the past six months.

Johnny found himself out here more often than not with the wilting flowers and dying trees, longing for your return just as he had. Now, life was coursing through the entire garden, the tall standing trees rustling in the breeze, flowers blossoming all around his feet. He could feel your presence growing stronger the further he walked.

When he finally spotted you, you had your back to him. And Johnny could already feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Just laying eyes on you, it seemed his lungs were finally able to intake the oxygen around him a little easier.

Without even looking away from the plants you were bringing back to life, you spoke,

"What did I tell you about those boots in my garden, John?"

Johnny looked down at his feet and then at the trail of scorched earth behind him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He kicked off his shoes and continued toward you.

You finally turned around, and Johnny felt like it was the first time again. You stood from the dirt, your long dress flowing around you and slightly waving in the wind.

Johnny's arms were immediately around you, pulling you to him.

Your heart had ached for this man for half the year, and it almost felt like your chest would explode, finally being in his arms again.

You ran your hands up his arms to his shoulders, one of them cupping his face.

"Hi." Johnny's heart melts at the way your eyes sparkle at him.

Johnny sighs, nuzzling his face into your touch, "Hi."

"Six months have felt like an eternity away from you, my love."

"I know. It's been hell here without you."

You laughed, "That joke doesn't get any better, babe."

"It made you laugh, though," Johnny grinned.

"Because it was terrible. Leave them to Mark," you patted his chest.

"Fine."

. . .

Anything he needed to do today was quickly pushed back to tomorrow at least, Johnny not wanting anything other than to be with you right now.

Your feet mindlessly swayed in the air as you lay on your stomach face to face with your lover. You rest your chin on Johnny's chest, studying the details of his face as if they would have changed much in the past few thousand years you've been married.

"Have you been sleeping? You look tired," you frown, noticing the dark circles around his eyes.

"I'm fine," he told you. The look in your eyes was enough for him to know you don't believe him. "I've just been working a lot, that's it. And it's kinda hard to sleep when you're not here."

You sat up on your knees before swinging one of your legs over his waist to straddle him.

"I'm sorry about that, baby," you pout, caressing his face.

"You should be," Johnny teased, pecking your lips, "But now you can make it up to me," he whispered.

"Anything for you, my King," you teasingly whispered back.

Johnny's hands on your waist moved down to cup your ass. You slide one of your hands over the silky material of his shirt, grab the back of his neck, and deepen the kiss.

Johnny's hands fell to your thighs, slowly pushing the skirt of your dress up. A shiver ran down your spine, your stomach coiling from excitement. Johnny slipped his tongue into your mouth when you dragged your hips against his, trying to relieve built-up pressure between your thighs.

Your back met the mattress, your head lying against the pillows as Johnny's body occupied the space between your legs.

His hands wandered all over your body, cupping your breast, squeezing your thigh; it was all too much but not enough.

Johnny's lips traveled down to your neck, softly kissing you there. He bunched up the fabric of your dress in his hands, pushing it up to your hips. He bit and sucked your skin, making his way down your body.

"So, so beautiful," he mutters between kisses down your stomach.

Johnny touches you like he doesn't have every inch of your body memorized already; as if it were his first time with you.

He pushes your knees apart, settling between your legs. He slowly kisses his way up your inner thighs, digging his nails into your skin when he hears the faintest whimper or whines fall from your lips.

With a subtle wave of his fingers, your panties are discarded to ashes. Any other time you would've chastised his use of his powers, but you couldn't care in the slightest.

Johnny's predatory gaze falls to your pussy, only a few inches away from his face.

"You gonna let me taste you, sweetness?"

You eagerly nodded, "Please, Johnny," you said so faintly it was almost a whisper.

Johnny smirked, lowering his head and flattening his tongue against your lips. You moaned, rolling your hips into his mouth. He teasingly circled your slit with the tip of his tongue before bringing his attention to your clit. You lifted your hips off the bed, raising them against his face before Johnny held your hips, keeping them pinned to the bed.

"Patience, baby. 186 days, I've waited for this. To have you again," he placed both your legs over his shoulders, giving your thighs more kisses, "So, I will take my time if I please."

He ran his tongue through your folds, your juices reminding him of sweet nectar on his tastebuds. Your eyes rolled back, bliss written all over your face as you lost yourself in the pleasure he was giving you. Johnny wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves, resulting in your back arching away from the bed.

You brought one of your hands to his head, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp.

"Gods, John, please don't stop."

Johnny moans into your pussy in response. Your legs threaten to close around his head, but he doesn't give them a chance to, hooking his arms under your thighs and keeping them apart to allow him to continue to eat you out like a starved man.

The one thing Johnny wishes he could do for the rest of his immortal life, it's to give you pleasure. The sounds you make, the look on your face, the way your body trembles, all of it; Johnny wishes to be the source of it all for the rest of time.

"Johnny—fuck. Always make me feel so good," you whine.

"You wanna cum for me, baby?"

"Yes, m'so close," you mumble, nodding.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge before finally falling over. A loud cry of Johnny's name bounced off the walls, surely heard by the palace staff everywhere.

Even after already cumming, you couldn't help the thoughts running rampant in your head, feeling your skin burn under his touch as he lapped at your folds. It aroused you, even more, having him use his strength against you, knowing he can't hurt you even if he tried.

He left you with one last kiss on your knee before he sat up. You lazily watched your husband begin to undress. He noticed your eyes on him and teasingly undid the buttons of his black silk shirt slowly. You sat up, the fatigue from your first orgasm no longer existent. A smirk was planted on your face as your eyes drank in the man before you.

Johnny could see from his spot at the foot of the bed the lust swirling around your irises and practically smell your arousal seeping onto the bed sheets.

Getting impatient, you slide off the bed and stand in front of Johnny, hooking a finger in the belt loop of his pants, tugging him closer. Your lips meet in a messy, desperate kiss, your teeth and tongue clashing.

You slide his shirt off his shoulders before running your hands down his chest, letting yourself get refamiliarized with his body, having missed feeling his skin against yours these past two seasons. Without breaking the kiss, your fingers blindly undo his pants until they end up on the floor along with his shirt.

Johnny's hand snaked around your back, pulling you flush against him, untying the laces until the front of your dress fell. He kisses your shoulders as he slips the material off your body, leaving you naked before him.

Johnny wastes no time touching and kissing your body, worshipping you as the goddess you are.

You push him back onto the bed, Johnny's eyes practically turning black as you get on top of him. You sink your teeth into your bottom lips, feeling his cock between your folds. You couldn't resist the urge to drag your hips against his once again.

"I need you so bad," you whimper, your slick dripping onto his cock.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Please, Johnny."

"Whatever my Queen wants, she gets," he tells you before lifting you out of his lap and lining his cock up with your entrance.

Lowering yourself onto Johnny's cock, you're refamiliarized with the feeling of him splitting you apart in the best ways.

"You feel so fucking good," you utter.

"Gods, you're so wet, sweetheart," Johnny groans, fingernails digging into your skin.

You grin, lifting your hips before sinking back down onto his cock.

"It's all for you, baby," you slowly start to ride him, unable to resist how good it feels to be so full.

Johnny can't tear his eyes away from your face. Loving the way you lose yourself in ecstasy.

He lifts his hips to meet yours, and your eyes roll back into your skull. Too focused on how good it feels, you wrap your arm around his shoulder to balance yourself as you bounce in his lap.

Johnny's hands were all over you while his mouth traveled over your chest, biting, kissing, and licking your skin.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. When you broke the kiss, Johnny's thumb softly edged your bottom lip, silently asking for entry.

You enthusiastically suck on his thumb, coating the digit in your saliva before he slips his hand between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit.

"Johnny," you gasp, "Fuck, I can't. John, I'm gonna-" Johnny slamming up into you, cut off your words.

The room seemed to grow warmer, the fires lit around the room burning brighter.

"Come on, baby. I know you wanna cum," Johnny rubbed coordinated circles on your clit with his thumb, "Be a good girl and cum for me," the vibrations of his voice shot straight to your core.

Your cries and moans were music to his ears, mixing with the sound of skin hitting skin. The knot inside you snapped, and Johnny felt your pussy choking his cock, sucking him deeper into your warm wet heat.

"Fucking hell," Johnny clenches his jaw.

You bury your face into Johnny's neck, allowing yourself to catch your breath.

You lift your head from his neck and rest your forehead against his.

"I love you," you whisper against his skin, kissing his face.

"I love you," he groans as you start rolling your hips again.

"Please, fuck me, John," you begged, "Remind me who I belong to."

Johnny threw you onto your back and pushed his cock back into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, unable to get enough of him.

"It would be my pleasure, your majesty," he leaned down and met your lips in a kiss, slowly drawing his hips back before easing back in.

You feel every inch of him, stretching you open, fucking you nice and deep.

"More, more, more, Johnny, please!" you lift your hips to meet his.

Your husband grabbed your legs, placing them over his shoulders, folding you in half as he plowed into you.

The tip of his cock reached so deep inside, you could feel him in your stomach, rightfully rearranging your guts.

You found yourself gripping onto the sheets, pillows—anything you could get a hold of, all the pent-up longing you've held onto all this time being released after finally being reunited with your love.

You felt yourself losing more and more control as you drowned in pleasure. Vines wrapped themselves around the headboard, flowers miraculously blossoming across the room.

Johnny's chest blooms with pride, knowing he's the only one with the ability to make you feel good enough you lose control of your powers like this. Your whimpers and whines were as sweet as a prayer on his ears. It makes him slam into you harder, faster.

If you were mortal, your muscles would've screamed in relief when he lowered your legs from his shoulders but kept your knees close to your chest. His thrusts never falter, continuing to pound into you.

Your pussy clenches around his cock, feeling even tighter than before. The way he messily snaps his hips into yours, pistoning his cock in and out of your sopping hole, you knew that knot inside of him would break sooner rather than later.

Johnny watches your pussy and swallows his cock, taking him so well.

"Gods, I've missed you," he muffles your moans with his lips on yours, "And this pussy. You were fucking meant for me," he growls, his cock twitching against your gummy walls.

"Johnny," you whine.

"What is it, my love?" he slows down but continues his deep strokes.

"Please, baby, I wanna feel you," you plead.

"Cum with me," he tells you before bringing his thumb back to your clit, sloppily circling the bundle of nerves.

Your toes curled, and your fingernails dragged across Johnny's skin, hard enough to leave red streaks on his arms.

You could barely keep your eyes open, slowly blinking up at the man above you as your body approached another climax.

"That's my girl," he hums, "Cum for your King," his eyes glimmer red.

His last words toppled you over the edge, euphoria flooding your entire body. Your orgasm sent Johnny into his own, warm ropes of his cum spilling into your messy cunt.

You whimper against Johnny's lips, feeling empty as he pulls out of you. He lays beside you, grabbing one of your legs and placing it over himself to keep you close. Neither of you caring about the mess of bodily fluids and flower petals all over the bed.

"Fuck, I've missed you," you crash your lips into his.

You pull yourself up into Johnny's lap, his hands holding your waist. You grab onto his hair, making him crane his neck up at you as you slip your tongue into his mouth, your lover sucking on the wet muscles.

You both pull away, catching your breath but staying close enough you're sharing the same oxygen.

"You really aren't trying to waste any time, huh," he asked, nudging your nose with his.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around him.

"186 days. I've wasted enough."

a/n: I know it's been a minute but seriously life has been fucking crazy and exhausting so, sorry about that. but thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated <33

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2jisungs · 1 month

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hallway crush

johnny suh x fem reader fluff highschool au wc. 429

notes; my ult bias i luv him so much

you’ve had a hallway crush since the beginning of your junior year in high school. you don’t know much about the the boy other than his name, johnny. but, one thing you know is he’s breathtakingly handsome and he’s fully aware of it.

it was an ordinary day at west grey high school. you tiredly walked your way through the crowded hallways to the empty corridor you would normally walk by to see johnny. he would be in his usual spot every morning, his eyes glued to the floor. he always knew you were walking by, as he would look up and watch you walk past him.

but, this time, he wasn’t there. that’s odd. is he sick? will he be coming to school or not? you wondered, hoping he would just be late so you’d have other opportunities in the day to admire him from afar.

you decided to head to your locker, planning to grab your stuff and head to first period. but, something catches your eye while on your way there.

it was johnny. he was talking with his friend group, the usual smug grin on his face and hands running through his long, dark hair. he towered over everyone in the school, earning him the title of ‘tall boy suh’. you remembered your friend telling you he was 6'1. gosh, he really is tall. and at 17 too? what did his parents feed him as a child?

you tried to ignore him as you walked to your locker, which just so happened to be right next to where johnny was standing. to your surprise, you saw a sticky note stuck to your locker.

you took the note and read it. “give me ur number, you’re cute. -johnny.” it read. you felt the tips of your ears turning red as you turned to look at johnny, only to find him already staring at you with a smirk.

“you know you like me, pretty girl. don’t fight it.” he teased. you glared at him before hurriedly writing your phone number on the sticky note and handing him it.

“good. i’ll see you at lunch then, cutie? you’re sitting with me and my friends, whether you like it or not. you know you want to anyway.” johnny told you, earning a nod from your end.

you grabbed your stuff and rushed over to your classroom, completely forgetting that your interaction with johnny made you late for class. yes, you got your hallway crush’s number, but at the cost of an after-school detention.

atleast it was worth it.

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sunshyni · 7 days

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMilf

✎ n.a: finalmente respondendo esse pedido aqui que eu 'tava louca para escrever desde que recebi!!!

✎ avisos: menções ao Jaehyun, tá um teco sugestivo e provavelmente com alguns erros, mas relevem isso, depois eu arrumo KKKKKK

✎ w.c: 1.2k

Boa leitura, docinhos!!! ☂️

Você enviou uma última mensagem para Jaehyun respondendo sua pergunta sobre onde estava o brinquedo favorito do filho de vocês de 3 anos e ergueu a cabeça para encontrar Johnny te avaliando. De repente você se sentiu nervosa e ansiosa com aquela observação toda, mesmo que ele estivesse ocupando o cargo do seu melhor amigo há 2 anos.

Você não pode deixar de reparar que o restaurante que o Suh escolherá se parecia e muito com a sugestão de lugar para primeiro encontro que você o presenteara, um lugar a primeira vista chique mas que servia hambúrgueres do tamanho da cabeça de um recém nascido, ele estava vestido da forma casual de sempre, a calça jeans de lavagem clara e o suéter verde eram o bastante para torná-lo deslumbrante, mas você se vira passando uma camada além da conta de rímel e gloss labial diante do espelho.

— Como tá o meu bebê? — Johnny questionou depois de vocês dizerem seus pedidos para o garçom, obviamente ele estava se referindo ao seu filho que tinha puxado toda a aparência do pai, e você sabia disso só de olhar para aqueles olhinhos e um par de covinhas idênticas as de Jeong Yoonoh, mas em questão de personalidade, pelo menos todos os créditos eram seus.

— Ele amou aquele triciclo que você trouxe de...

— Nottingham — Você assentiu com a cabeça afinal Johnny viajava tanto devido a sua carreira muito bem sucedida de DJ que você até se confundia nos nomes das cidades que ele participava de festas badaladas.

A verdade é que vocês se conheceram por causa de Jaehyun, aproximadamente 4 anos atrás, numa situação atípica em que você bebeu demais e vomitou o que pareceu dois meses de digestão de alimentos, Johnny te ajudou segurando seu cabelo e tudo mais, mas na noite passada você acidentalmente acabou dormindo com um dos amigos do Suh, o que foi bastante certeiro considerando que você carregou no seu ventre uma miniatura bastante fiel de Jaehyun.

Você namorou com o Jeong durante o período de 2 anos, no entanto mesmo com o término ainda eram amigos e dividiam a guarda de um menininho que amavam mais do que qualquer coisa, Johnny acabou se aproximando de você após isso, mas nada indicava que era porque ele gostava de você, levando em conta que vocês dificilmente conversavam sobre questões amorosas.

E que bom por isso, porque você sentia-se estranhamente incomodada com a menção de Johnny visto nas festas em outro país na companhia de alguma estrangeira gostosona. Ele não sabia, é claro, mas já estava ficando difícil esconder que você o queria, sentia isso em cada partezinha do seu corpo.

— Eu gravei um vídeo olha — Você ofereceu o próprio celular para Johnny que encostou os dedos longos nos seus no processo e fez com que você sentisse as faíscas novamente, você instintivamente culpou seu período fértil e o fato de que fazia muito tempo que não saía para um rolê adulto, embora soubesse que a resposta dessa questão começava com a afirmação de que você estava apaixonada.

— Fofinho — Ele te devolveu o celular com um sorriso brilhante no rosto, Johnny era assim, fazia questão de presentear seu filho com presentes do mundo todo, te pedindo fotos e atualizações do pequeno todos os dias, surtando toda vez que ouvia o desajeitado e adorável “Tio John” sair da boca do menininho — Acho que eu tô gostando de uma mãe aí, isso me torna meio cara que curte uma milf?

Johnny não fazia ideia do quanto todas aquelas perguntas sobre primeiros encontros e como se comportar perante a pessoa que você se sente atraído estavam te perturbando, você tomou um gole do copo de água que descansava na mesa até então e não ousou olhar nos olhos dele naquele momento porque era bem capaz de revelar a frustração que tomou conta do seu corpo após a questão. Afinal, será que ele tinha mesmo te trazido para um restaurante perfeito, vestindo roupas perfeitas e perfeitamente perfumado apenas para te dizer com detalhes sobre a pessoa que ele desesperadamente queria beijar?

— Não... Se ela não for casada, tá tudo bem se envolver — Você afirmou, brincando com os dedos repousado no seu colo de forma impaciente e se lamentando por ter escolhido sua melhor calça jeans – a que delineava seu quadril melhor do que qualquer roupa – numa ilusão de que naquela noite participaria finalmente de um encontro com a pessoa por quem estava caidinha.

— Ela não é — Ele falou, rápido demais para o seu gosto — Mas e então? No encontro a gente faz o que?

Para você era muito difícil acreditar que Johnny não sabia a logística de um encontro, afinal de contas ele era lindo, tinha grana e era bom de papo, o tipo de cara engraçadinho que você não conseguia ignorar e no final terminava com uma aliança no dedo pista por ele mesmo. Então, estava começando a considerar que ele estava brincando com você, testando sua paciência como uma lição para uma professora do jardim de infância, no entanto você preferia ter que lidar com mil crianças na faixa etária de 5 anos do que com um único Johnny de olhar sedutor.

— Pelo amor de Deus, onde você quer chegar com todo esse interrogatório? — Foi a sua vez de questionar irritada com a situação toda — Quero dizer, você é um DJ foda e realmente tá pedindo conselho amoroso pra uma mulher que é professora da pré-escola e tem um filho de 3 anos? 'Cê tá de zoação comigo?

— Você não sabe mesmo, né? — Você queria muito desferir uns bons tapas naquele rostinho bonito quando Johnny desviou o olhar do seu e sorriu, como se você fosse uma criança inocente questionando a origem dos bebês. Você o chutou por debaixo da mesa, mas aquele gemido baixo de dor em união ao sorriso sem vergonha só serviram para seu cérebro descartar aquela ideia dos tapas e trocá-la por uma bem melhor, que envolvia beijos demorados e molhados e muita mão boba — Eu tô usando essa técnica tão antiga de sedução só pra ver se você se toca que eu tô na sua há muito tempo.

— Johnny, eu tô boiando sério — Você tinha uma expressão de confusão cobrindo seu rosto, que Johnny tratou de tirar de você quando ele afastou a cadeira, colocou seu rosto entre as mãos e te beijou, mesmo que ele tivesse que se inclinar desconfortavelmente devido a diferença de altura, no entanto nada mais importava agora que os lábios do Suh estavam sobre os seus e a única coisa que você conseguia ouvir de fundo era um coral de cupidos cantando alguma coisa melosa de forma afinada.

— Agora deu pra entender ou 'cê vai querer que eu desenhe? — Você sorriu contra os lábios dele, os olhos fechados extasiada demais com o que havia acabado de acontecer, sem compreender como as coisas tinham alcançado aquele nível, mas se deliciando com o ocorrido.

— Esqueci de te falar, mas a sobremesa é fundamental num encontro — Você começou, sorrindo como se tivesse se tornado milionária nos últimos 2 minutos — Mas, nesse caso acho que a gente já pode pular pra essa parte essencial.

— Qual das sobremesas? — Ele perguntou todo assanhadinho e você o beijou novamente, incapaz de resistir a todo aquele charme magnético que ele possuía.

— Pode ser as duas?

Johnny sorriu, ignorando completamente de que tinham feito pedidos e deixando o restante, mal se contendo até chegar no estacionamento e descansar as mãos grandes nos bolsos traseiros da sua calça apertada.

— O seu pedido é uma ordem, mamãe.

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nctsplug02 · 10 months

Note

Recently I been thinking about romantic sensual sex with Johnny but it lasts like the whole night. Different positions, cuddles, cream pies UGHHHHHHHH I WANT THIS MANNB 😭😭😩😩😩

How About Now? J.suh

GENRE: friends with benefits, fluff, smut, slight angst!

WARNINGS: body shaming, accusations, harassment, name-calling (sexually and abusively), crying, flirting, kissing, protected and unprotected sex, creampie, anal, doggy style, spooning, missionary, riding, backwards cowgirl, breast play, oral sex (both F and M receiving), and cum-eating!

it’s five in the morning, you leave for work in five hours.

you can’t sleep, especially with your close friends dick balls deep in your cunt.

tonight was not planned, johnny your FWB wasn’t supposed to be over, but he was so needy and impatient.

without asking, he sneaks over and climbs up the balcony, knocking on your door and watching as you sit up in a hurry.

“he did not!” johnny could hear your whisper on the other side as you climb out of bed and unlock the doors for him.

the man explains that he couldn’t wait until friday to see you which explains why you’re folded in half with your knees to your chest and with johnny pounding his cock in you.

“j—johnny, ‘s getting k—kinda hard to breathe.” you gasp out quietly. “just a little longer, baby. i’m almost there, alright?”

you shut your eyes and bite your lip, ignoring the tightening in your chest and focusing on his tip kissing your g-spot with passion and quickness.

a whimper slips from your throat and blends in with the creaks coming from the springs of your old bed.

you re-open your eyes and look up at johnnys when he slows his pace. “w—what, w—why?” johnny sits up a bit but barely moves an inch. “let’s keep it down, alright, baby?”

before you can protest about his hypocritical saying, he picks up his pace, again causing you to fall silent.

your nails dig into johnnys biceps as your orgasm sneaks closer. johnnys thrusts become sloppy— both from the condom and his climax reaching.

“‘m so close, baby.” johnny growls as he rests his forehead on yours. “cum with me, please?” johnny whines, “when you’re asking like that? no way am i passing on that, baby.”

within seconds, you reach your orgasm with johnny. johnny bites hard on his bottom lip and swears he tastes the slightest hint of blood.

“gah— fuck!” johnny tries to ignore the overwhelming feeling of your walls tightening around his dick. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” johnny sighs and uses the rest of his energy to push himself back so that he’s sitting in his heels.

you whine and sit up when feeling the sudden emptiness. “again, again, please?” johnny frowns and reaches forward, cupping your left cheek with his right hand and rubbing your cheekbone. “i’d love to, baby. but, i gotta get’cha cleaned up and then you have to go to sleep for work.”

you tut in annoyance when receiving an answer you didn’t want. “fine— but, i want you to hold me until i fall asleep then you can.. leave.”

“i can do that, baby. but, let’s get you cleaned up first, yeah?” you nod and sigh when feeling johnny pull his hand away.

“should we take a quick shower?” johnny asks, slipping off the bed and grabbing a towel nearby and wiping the sweat off his forehead. “i’m gonna sound disgusting but no, i just wanna be wiped down and then i wanna be in your arms.”

johnny laughs a little and reaches down, pulling off the condom and tying it securely before tossing it in the small trash by your desk.

johnny walks over to you with the same towel he’d used to wipe his sweat and cleans you up. “you’re so pretty, y/n.” johnny says as he wipes away your sweat and looks down at you.

your face heats up and you quickly bite back a smile.

“okay,” johnny throws the towel back onto the office chair and lays next to you. “c’mere, baby.” he says as he’s taking you in his arms.

“you have work in a few hours, go to bed, okay?” johnny says, kissing your temple and rubbing your arm. “i’ll be here when you wake up and get ready for work.”

you tsk and roll your eyes. “what? what was that about?” you shake your head and shrug. “c’mon, y/n. what is it, baby?”

you sigh and toss a leg over his lap. “we really can’t go another round?” you ignore johnnys question and concern.

but johnny doesn’t mind and instead lets out a giggle and shakes his head. “no, we can’t. you have work and i need you going in fully rested not.. with wobbly legs.”

you bite your lip and run your hand over his abs, slowly moving your down to his barely soft cock.

“oh,” you look up at johnny who lays with a grin on his face. “how about now?” johnny sits the two of you up and flips you on your stomach so your ass hangs in the air.

you gasp and jerk forward when feeling a sharp spank land on your right ass cheek. “you asked for it, baby.”

a giggle comes from you as you listen to johnny dig in your nightstand for another condom.

you wake up feeling overheated.

you groan and push off the thick blanket, rubbing your eyes and then sitting up.

in a rush, you grab the blanket and cover yourself, the cold air blows against your nipples causing your whole body to have chicken skin.

you look to your side and tap your phone, seeing it’s fully charged, you unplug the thing and check the time; 7:21AM.

you groan and look on the other side of you and when your eyes come into focus, you notice the empty bedside.

of course he didn’t stay, why would he? he’s just a fuck buddy, you’re sure he has other people to fuck rather than holding you to sleep.

oh, how pathetic you sounded last night when begging him to hold you to sleep and when begging for another round.

just how greedy could you get?

it was only supposed to be a one night stand but you and johnny kept running into each other— whether it was at parties, work places, café’s, etc— the two of you always suspiciously bumped into each other and ended in one another’s bed.

you shake away the thoughts and you climb out of bed, instantly wrapping your arms around your body and grabbing the white t-shirt that was hanging on the back of your office chair.

after slipping the shirt on, you grab a clean pantie from your underwear dresser and you slip that on as well.

you grab your phone off the bed and you while scratching your head, you walk towards your door and you let yourself out.

the house was silent.

you pass a room and a sudden, “thomas!” has you coming to a halt. you hear a giggle coming from one of your roommates room and then a soft moan.

ah, yes, your roommate of seven months and her boyfriend who doesn’t live in your house but does.

and yes, your house. you own a five bedroom house at the age of twenty-two, and how some may ask— your parents passed away in a car accident when you were in your junior year of college and left you with everything. you can’t pay for a five bedroom house on your own so you rent out rooms for people and it works fine.

you shake your head and sigh, moving your feet once again. as you head down to the kitchen, you grab all your hair and tie it into a high ponytail.

“oh, coffees already made?” you say to yourself with a head tilt. “great, saves me time.” you grin and grab a mug, pouring yourself a cup and sitting on the counter as you sip away.

you’re too zoned out to even hear the heavy footsteps coming into the kitchen. “oh shit, morning, y/n.” you look up at see your roommates boyfriend standing half naked with a smirk.

“oh,” you rest your mug on your thigh and clear your throat. “morning to you too, hwin.”

“mmm, coffee. can i have a cup?” you pick up your mug and shrug. “go for it, it was brewing here when i got down.”

hwin lets out a small laugh and grabs a mug, pouring himself a cup and then sitting across from you.

“so, you work today?” you make short eye contact with him and nod. “nice, maybe i’ll stop by for lunch with tera.” you take a quick look at him when feeling an uncomfortable stare and notice his eyes are staring directly at your breasts.

you work as a waitress at the restaurant in the city. you work ten long hours at a restaurant called, “sun and moon chefs.”

you look down at your breasts and notice your nipples are hard as pebbles and stabbing through your shirt. you clear your throat and use your arm to cover them.

hwin looks up and then clears his throat as well, he brings his mug to his lips and take a long chug. “so, y/n.. have you—?”

hwin is interrupted when his girlfriend— your roommate walks in the kitchen. “babe, are you—? oh, y/n.. hwin.. you two..?”

you hold up your mug and give her a warm smile. “would you like a cup?” her eye twitches and she licks her lips, she inhales sharply and then proceeds to nod with a smile. “s—sure, why not?”

“alright, i can make you a cup.” you set your mug down and you hop off the counter.

your hand goes for a mug but then an even larger hand grabs yours. “that’s alright, y/n. i’ll do it,” you look up to see hwin hovering over you with a smile, his eyes creased into moons. “i am the boyfriend after all.”

you yank your hand away while maintaining eye contact and then you nod. “yeah, sure. not a problem.”

you turn and grab your mug from the counter. “i’m gonna be in the living room.” you say quietly as you slip past tera who’s jaw is dropped and eye is twitching.

before you can unlock the top lock, the door swings open and you’re met with hwin and tera. “oh, hey y/n. you’re home early!”

you look at tera who’s smile seems to fade. “yeah,” you look back at hwin who smiles big. “they let me off early.”

it was only 7PM.

“that’s great! well, i’m heading home now. good to see you before i left and i hope you had a great night.” you look at tera again who looks to the side with her arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face.

“yeah, thanks, hope you had a great night as well.” tera grabs his arm and rests her cheek against his bicep. “oh, we did.” she says with a smirk. “didn’t we, babe?” hwin looks down at tera and nods.

“okay, well.. i gotta shower before it’s too late.” you skip past tera and hwin who bids you a goodnight.

you go upstairs and take a long shower, soaking in the hot water until there was none left.

KNOCK KNOCK!

you lift your head from your phone and look at the door. “y/n,” it’s tera. “can we talk?” you climb out of bed and open your door. “hi,” she presses her lips together and walks past you.

you look back to see tera climbing on your bed and making herself comfortable. “okay,” you mumble under your breath and shut your door.

“so, what did you want to talk about?” you ask and sit in front of her. “it’s about hwin.” you nod, “oh, sure, sure.”

“and you.” your eyebrow pinch together.

“oh, me?” you point yourself and tera nods.

she sighs and shakes her head. “i.. you know me, y/n. i can get insecure and.. protective.” you nod with a hum, telling her to continue.

“i really don’t know how to say this, y/n..” she shakes her head, again and rolls her eyes. “i’m sorry,” she looks at you and you see tears rolling down her cheeks.

“oh— oh, uhh,” you jump out of your bed and you grab the tissues sitting on your desk. “here.” you hand her the box and she thanks you, taking it and then blowing her nose into one.

when she recovers, she pulls out another tissue for just in case. “i’m sorry, i’m just so emotional. gah, this is embarrassing.”

you hesitate but put a hand on her shoulder. “it’s fine, tera. you can tell me whatever.”

she smiles and nods. “i want you to stop dressing so slutty.” your eyebrows raise in shock. “i’m sorry?” tera laughs and shakes her head. “no, i’m sorry. i mean provocative.”

“i.. what?!”

“it’s just.. before hwin and i began dating, he had this huge crush on you and when we were friends, he’d constantly talk about you. he’d talk about how good you look and how sweet you are and.. he would just never ever shut up. but, finally he.. he just turned around and asked me out. i just thought.. finally, a guy i like is giving me a chance.”

you stare back at her with slightly wide eyes and with your mouth hung ajar. you jerk when she begins wailing.

“i.. wow, i never knew that, tera. but, how do i dress provocatively?” tera wipes her tears and sighs. “earlier this morning when we had coffee, we left and went back to my room and he asked if he could.. fuck my tits. it was so random and when i asked why, he openly admitted that he was turned on by your breasts.”

“tera, i was in a t-shirt.” she grabs your arms and shakes her head. “y/n, you don’t get it. you weren’t wearing a bra. you were openly showing him your breasts.”

you yank your arms away and you stare at you. “tera, no. no, i was not. yeah, i admit to being bra-less but i’m in my own home, am i not allowed to wear what makes me comfortable?”

tera tightens her jaw and her eye twitches, her hold on your arm getting tighter. “how would you feel if i walked naked around the house while johnny was here?”

the mention of johnnys name has her heart dropping to your ass.

“why.. why specifically johnny?”

tera scoffs, “don’t fucking play stupid, y/n. i heard you guys earlier this morning— fucking like rabbits. i see the way you two look at each other whenever we’re out. don’t you think i hear you sneaking out and him sneaking in?”

you shake your head and lick your lips. “what? did i catch you in something that i wasn’t supposed to know about?” she taunts you with a head tilt. “is miss y/n and mister johnny suh in a secret relationship?”

“no,” you deny and shake your head. “me and johnny aren’t in a relationship.” she laughs a little. “so what are you two?”

“we’re just friends. that’s all.” she scoffs and pushes her hair back. “friends that sneak around and fuck behind everyone’s backs.”

“look, we were on the topic of hwin and.. me? this is my house and i will wear whatever makes me comfortable.” you walk over to your door and you yank it open. “if hwin can’t keep his hormones under control, it isn’t my fault. i’m not going to change the way i dress just because your boyfriend can’t keep his dick in his pants. and, if that is all then i’d like you to leave my room.”

tera takes a few seconds and stands, stomping out the room with huffs and her arms crossed.

you shut your door and run your hands down your face. your body jumps when hearing tera slam her door. you shake your head in annoyance and you climb back on your beg, grabbing the box of tissue and tossing it on your nightstand.

PING!

you grab your phone and see a message from johnny.

Monster Dick: be over in ten, baby.

the nickname has you smiling like a geek.

PING!

Monster Dick: just grabbing some snacks and i’ll be on my way. send me a list of the snacks you want and i’ll pick them up.

You: i don’t know

You: me and tera just got in an argument

Monster Dick: what happened, baby?

PING!

you look at the text notification and it’s from your roommate, Anna.

Anna Banana: hey, wat happened? i heard yelling? are u and tera ok?”

You: yeah, just miscommunication.

and that’s the last you hear from anna, so you go back to the conversation with johnny.

You: don’t think can link up tonight, the air is very uneasy right now ;(

Monster Dick: uhhh nope, i’m already on my way to your place. gonna be outside in two minutes.

You: WHAT

you wait a bit and then realize.

You: so no snacks?

Monster Dick: fine, send me your list.

Monster Dick: no list within a minute then no snacks.

You: THATS NOT ENOUGH TIME

Monster Dick: clocks ticking, baby ;)

You: YOURE A DICK

wind blows towards you as you yank open the front door. “this is new.. not really but it is.” you shrug and ask what. “coming in through the front door while your roommates are home.”

he walks in with the bag of snacks and slips off his shoes, reaching down to grab them until you stop him. “just leave them. it’s fine.”

johnny looks up at you with suspicious eyes. “what happened?” he asks with a hint of suspicion. “i’ll tell you once we’re in my room and eating the snacks.” you snatch the bag from him and dig your hand in the candy filled bag.

“mmm, i’ve been craving for sweets for so long.” you dig through the bag while walking up the stairs. “yeah, a thanks would be appreciated but y’know.. i know how greedy you are.”

you stop and glare back at him over your shoulder. “kidding, you’re so cute when you’re angry.” you turn back around and continue your way up the stairs with johnnys hands on your hips.

“you’re mean,” you pull out the pack of vanilla wafers and frown. “and thank you.” you mumble. “hm, what was that?” johnny teases as he pushes open your bedroom door. “i said thank you.” you say a bit louder for him to hear.

johnny giggles in success at getting you irritated. “and what for?” you huff and johnny shuts you door, locking it as well. “y’know what for,” you set the bag of candies in your bed. “for getting me all the candy i wanted.”

you turn with a wafer in your mouth, slowly munching it down. johnny licks his lips and smirks, leaning down and taking a bite on the other end.

you shove him and whine. “this one’s for me!” you shove the leftover into your mouth. “here,” you hold the wafer tray to him. “take your own.”

johnny giggles and shakes his head. he grabs one and holds it out for you. with your lips pressed together, you then open your mouth and take the wafer from johnny.

“hm, you’re cute.” this time you hold the wafer but johnny still manages to steal the other end from you but this time biting your finger.

“ooowww! my fwinger!” you yell muffle-ly and smack him as he backs away with his hands out and a muffled laugh.

“i’m sorry,” johnny says as he swallows the vanilla wafer. “here, let me give it a kissy.” you cringe and johnny notices. “don’t make that face!” johnny puckers his lips and you shake your head with a whine.

“my finger doesn’t need a kiss!” you argue.

“yes, it does!” johnny argues back and it goes back and forth until he’s tackling you on the bed while kissing your neck.

you giggle and push on johnnys chest but he doesn’t budge, he’s so much bigger than you.

“how ‘bout now, baby.” you shake your head and squeal and johnny nibbles on your sensitive spot. “uh-huh, and how about now?”

somehow, you manage to bite him which loosens him and allows you to flip him over so that you’re on top. “ah-ha.” you slam a palm on johnnys chest and he groans.

“alright.. you win.” johnny pants and chuckles that his chest rumbles. “c’mere, baby.” johnny yanks you on his chest with his arm and pins you down.

“you’re a jerk!” johnny spanks you and when you attempt to sit up, johnnys arm weighs you down. “i just wanna eat my snacks and my ice cream before it melts.”

johnny huffs and releases you. “thank you.” you reach and grab the controller on the end of your bed, as you sit back up on johnnys ribs, you fix your hair.

“what do you wanna watch?” you ask johnny as you wait for the TV to turn on. “mm, you pick.” you tut and find netflix. “just pick one, babe.” johnny giggles at the nickname and sighs. “i refuse, because if i do then you’re just gonna say no.”

“no, i won’t!” you go to the search button. “yes, you will. you always do.” you glare at him and he smiles. “fine, likes watch.. money heist—?”

“no, we’re watching Mulan.” you type in mulan and johnny scoffs. “i told you so.” you smack his chest and he groans, again. “stop doing that, ya’meanie!”

“whatever.” you hop off his ribs and sit against your headboard. “babe,” johnny lifts his head and looks at you. “come.” you pat to the open spot next to you.

johnny quickly sits up and crawls next to you. “did you—?” you shush johnny when the movie starts. “this is the best part, johnny.”

johnny side eyes you and reaches the ice cream in the bag. “ah, dang. forgot spoons, that’s what i forgot to text you to get before i got here.” he waits for a response but doesn’t get one, you’re too interested in the movie.

“yes, baby. i’ll get the spoons, yeah, you’re welcome.” johnny talks to himself and climbs past you. “woah!” johnny looks behind him and sees you still focused on the movie.

you’d attempted to shove him because he was in the way but failed.

johnny leaves downstairs to the kitchen and when he rounds the corner that goes to the kitchen, he sees tera.

she’s in a red silk robe with her breasts slightly showing and her orange hair is curled and pushed to the side.

“johnny,” johnny pauses and then stands up straight. “i knew i heard you somewhere around the house.”

“tera, hi.” johnny looks away from tera and looks for the drawer that holds the utensils.

“so, you here for y/n?” johnny looks up from one of the drawer and then looks at tera. “maybe, maybe not.” she snorts. “please, you aren’t here for me and you aren’t here for anna, she’s with thomas.”

johnny clears his throat and nods. “right. uh, yeah. we’re just watching a movie and.. gossiping.” excitement fills johnny when he finds the drawer with spoons.

“you mean netflix and chilling?” she scoffs. “maybe, maybe not.” tera sighs and looks at her nails. “just letting you know just in case you didn’t, hwin and y/n are seeing each other and.. it’s getting pretty serious.”

“i thought you’re with hwin, no?” tera turns pink and quickly brushed it off. “not anymore at least, not after he chose y/n over me. but with the two morning quickies they had today.. i’d say it’s serious.”

johnny looks at tera and tera smirks when feeling his eyes on her. “first in the kitchen and then.. oh, boy, in the shower.”

johnny slams the drawer shut and leaves the kitchen, going back upstairs and slamming your door shut when reaching your room.

“wha— what the fuck, johnny. i’m trying to watch mulan, c’mon, you’re gonna miss the best part!” you giggle and gesture johnny to come on the bed while your eyes are focused on the movie.

“yeah, uh,” johnny sets the spoons on your bed and rubs his nape. “i think i’m gonna head out?” you tear your eyes away from the TV. “right now? we’ve barely started the movie and we haven’t even ate all the snacks.”

johnny shrugs and rubs his temple. “yeah, i—i don’t know. i think it’s best if i go.”

“but we haven’t even talked about the argument tera and i had. c’mere, let’s talk about it.” you grab his hand and guide him on the bed. “sure.” he mumbles.

you go on a while rant about how tera was trying to get you to start wearing bras around the house and how hwin is a creep and can’t control his dick, all while being in johnnys arms.

“you gonna stay the night with me?” you ask in the now pitch black room.

the movie had finished and the snacks were halfway done.

“should i?” you snuggle your face more inside his chest and nod. “mhm,” you hum and inhale his scent. “i wanna wake up with you next to me, again.”

johnnys heart can’t help but ache at your adorable ramble.

“you smell good, y’know that, right?” johnny softly laughs. “mhm, it’s the cologne that you got me for christmas last year. i wear it everyday.”

you inhale and sigh. “it smells so good.”

“you smell good too, y/n.” you giggle. “thanks, it’s the strawberry shortcake perfume from bath&body works. you picked it out for me, remember?” johnny nods with soft hums.

after silence, you’re fighting your heavy eye lids. “y’know,” you hum, waking yourself back up. “i bumped into tera earlier.”

your eyebrows pinch. “when?”

“when i went to go get us spoons for the ice cream.” johnny grabs a small handful of your hair and begins twirling is between his fingers.

“what’d she say?” you mumble.

“i know it’s not true.. i think,” he adds and sighs. “but, she told me that you and hwin are.. seeing each other.” you laugh and smack johnnys back. “you’re stupid if you believe that. i’m already seeing you and you’re enough for me.”

johnnys heart warms up and he hugs you thigher. “you gonna do anything ‘bout it?”

“you bet your ass i’m gonna do something about it. i have a plan. and don’t worry, i won’t do anything that’ll make you kill someone.”

johnny sneers, “i would never. i wouldn’t even touch a fly.”

“liar!” you smack his back and he winces. “okay, sorry.” he whines and digs his chin into the top of your head. “just go to bed now, alright?” you nod.

johnny giggles when hearing snores come from you and then allows sleep to take over him.

johnny was actually there when you woke up, it’d been so long since you’ve found him sleeping next to you. the last time was last month when tera and anna were at their boyfriends places leaving the house to you and johnny.

“morning, ugly. do you want breakfast?” johnny sighs and pulls you into his bare chest. “yes, but can we order in instead?”

“who said we were cooking? of course we’re ordering in, too lazy to wash all the dishes after.” johnny chuckles and sighs, pulling a centimeter away from you.

“order in bed?” you groan and shake your head. “i’ve gotta get up, hate my morning breath. oh, and i still have your toothbrush.” johnny winces, “you didn’t throw that thing away?”

you place your hands on johnnys chest and push yourself away from him, sitting up and looking down at him. “c’mon, let’s go get ready for the day.”

johnny tuts and sits up with you, a fat pout sitting on his lips as he rubs his eyes.

“can we go to the mall today?” you ask once you and johnny are walking to the small bathroom connected to your room. “sure, is there an occasion? sale going on? need something from there? or just for fun?”

you grab your toothbrush, “just for fun.” you wet your toothbrush and johnny grabs his. “need to clear my mind by spending money.” you apply toothpaste on your bristles and then johnnys.

“iz it becah tera?” johnny looks at you through the mirror. “mwaybe,” you shrug and look back at him through the mirror.

you spit into the sink and continue brushing your teeth again. johnny follows seconds after and spits into the sink then continues brushing his teeth.

“can we just get food from the mall?” johnny asks after washing out his mouth and dries his face. “i guess,” you wipe your face clean. “delivery fees are expensive anyway.”

you exit and johnny follows like he’s lost.

“uhh, i think i have a few pair of clothes that’ll fit you.” you go to your closet and search for clothes that’ll fit johnny.

“mm, here,” you hold a plain black t-shirt behind you as you continue searching through the bucket with one hand. “urhh, i have these sweats? i don’t know if they’ll fit.” you stand and johnny holds the t-shirt and sweats with a confused and jealous face.

“what?” johnny looks down at the clothes in his hands and then back up at you with his top lip curled. “they’re my dads! i don’t fuck around like you, suh.”

johnny stays silent and you huff. “well, i’ll let you change in private.” you try and slip past johnny but he blocks your way. “it’s nothing you haven’t seen, y/n.” your cheeks heat up.

“and i don’t fuck around anymore.” you bite your lip, embarrassed for even saying that. “stopped messin’ around after our third hookup.” you tilt your head and sigh.

“just get changed, ‘kay?” you whisper.

johnnys eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. “wanna help me?” he asks after kissing you. “i..” you clear your throat and step back. “sure.”

johnny throws the shirt and sweats at you. he grabs the ends of his shirt, pulls it up and over his head and lets it fall on the floor.

his nipples harden and he flexes, his abs deepening and biceps growing bigger. “ah, there we go.” you hold out the shirt and johnny takes it, finding the opening and slipping it on.

“did you.. need underwear?” johnny stops mid way when pulling down the shirt into place. “huh?” you giggle a little when his voice slightly cracks. “i mean, i still have your boxers that you gave me from when i came over to your place for the first time.”

johnny rubs his nape and awkwardly laughs. “yeeaah, sorry again, babe. didn’t mean to shred your underwear.” you laugh and shake your head. “it’s fine. but it will be missed, that went with this cute bra that i really liked.”

johnny shakes his head and pushes down the other black sweats he had on. “oh,” you gasp when his underwear is yanked down as well. “i just..” johnny tries to explain and groans. “the memory me.. shredding up your panties just.. came back to me anddddd.. yeah.”

you laugh and stare at his hard on.

“just..” you turn and shake your head while trying to control your laughter. “let me find the boxer, i think i put it.. hm, i don’t know.” you search through the box and mumble to yourself as you try to regain memory of where you last put it.

“if i can’t find it, you’re stuck with the ones you’re wearing now or my panties.” you say and laugh at the last line.

you gasp when being pushed forward, your hand falls forward and catches you from hitting the wall. “johnny—! what are you—!” you attempt to stand but your clothes hanging above you leave you seeing darkness.

johnnys bulge pressed against your clothed pussy, he pulls up your grey t-shirt and massages your ass. “johnny,” you whine as johnny rubs your pussy through your panties.

“just want a little taste, baby.” johnny grinds himself against you and drops himself onto his knees. “ay, johnny!” you yelp when feeling a harsh smack land on your ass.

you moan when feeling johnny kiss your ass cheek and then bite down on the flesh.

johnny slips his thumbs under the waistband of your panties and tugs the thin fabric down your thighs. “aww,” johnny groans at the sight of your dripping cunt. “my baby’s drippin’.” johnny chuckles teasingly.

you gasp and allow your knees to fall weak when feeling johnny lick your slit. “oh, so sweet.” johnny growls and dips his head for more.

you moan and push your ass back, wanting more than just johnny lapping up your juice. “ssshit,” you gasp shakily.

“oh, good god.” you cry out when feeling the tip of johnnys tongue licking your clit.

“stand up for me, baby.” johnny mumbles against your pussy and holds you up. “c—can’t, ‘m gonna cum, johnny.” you whine and grab johnnys hand that held you up.

johnny shakes his head and moans. his tongue enters you causing you to levitate onto your toes. the box barely holds you up, it shakes with your hand.

johnny grabs your thigh and digs his nails into them as they tremble from the overwhelming pleasure.

“john— i’m cumming, god, i’m gonna cum.” you squeal at your announcement.

your press your thighs together as your orgasm comes over you. your knees beg to go weak but johnny holds them stable as he still laps up your juice.

johnny pulls away and lets go of your legs causing you to fall in the box. instead of helping, johnny laughs at you and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“johnny,” you whine and attempt your push yourself out the box but your weak trembling arms do no justice. “help me, please.” you say with weak giggles.

johnny helps you up after minutes of laughing and pointing at you. “you’re a dick.” you kick him but he dodges it.

“hey!” johnny yells and covers his dick for safety.

you look at his cock to see him still hard. “did you want some help?” you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his hard on.

“if you’re offering, i’m so not passing on that.” your lips twitch into a grin as you lower yourself on your knees and crawl closer to his dick.

you grab him by his base and gulp, the precum leaking like crazy. you give kitten licks to tip, then you tilt his cock to the side and you lube up his cock.

johnny hisses and tosses his head back with his jaw clenched. you gulp, wetting your throat and then taking johnny in fully.

or at least you attempt to.

johnny’s a tad too big for you. it takes time for you to actually take him whole.

“look at me, baby.” johnny says while softly patting your head. you look up at johnny with your pouty lips wrapped around his cock.

“fuck,” johnny hisses when seeing how innocent and doe-full your eyes are. “so pure and innocent.” he mumbles and groans when feeling the tip of your tongue swirl around his head.

johnny exhales shakily and pushes your head so that your nose is inches away from his abdomen. you moan and scrunch your nose as you attempt to breathe without pulling away.

but you fail.

you pull away and gasp for air. “i’m sorry, i always forget that i’m too big for you.” your eyes filled with tears as you shake your head and wipe your drool covered mouth.

“it’s okay, i’ll get used to it.” you look up at him again and his face his swarmed with guilt. “i always do.” you give a reassuring smile.

you grab him by the base just like before and you gulp, preparing yourself for johnnys thickness and his length.

you press a kiss on his tip and you take him slowly. you stick your tongue out as you bob your head down his cock. your eyes squeeze shut and tears slip past your eyes when feeling his tip reach the back of your throat.

johnny gasps when feeling your throat tighten around him.

“just breathe through your nose, y/n. you can do this.” the voice in your head encourages you.

you bob your head and suck in your cheeks. you tilt your head side to side as you swallow johnny and take him down your throat.

johnny wipes the tears that slip down your cheeks and grins.

“you’re doing great, baby.” johnny whispers.

johnnys knees buckle when you finally reach his abdomen. his barely shaved pubes tickle your nose causing you to pull away.

“oh, fuck!” johnny groans and instantly your eyes fall shut when feeling johnny shoot ribbons on your face.

you stick your tongue out last minute and johnny slaps his dick on your tongue. “fuck, you did so good for me, y/n.” you giggle and suck on his tip one last time.

johnny grabs the old shirt he was just wearing moments ago and uses it to wipe your face clean. “so, breakfast?” he asks while tossing the shirt into your dirty basket.

“yes, who’s driving?” johnny helps you up and pulls up your panties. “me, of course. don’t want my passenger princess driving for me.” johnny leans down, grabs your hips and kisses you.

“okay,” you sing and walk past him and out your closet. “you aren’t even dressed, no?” you pause and walk backwards. “i forgot.” you shake your finger and your head.

“oh, and you’re stuck with your old underwear or my panties. take your pick.” johnnys tongue pokes his cheek as you look for clothes for yourself.

“drive safe, dummy.” you say to johnny through the open car window. “i will, dum-dumb.”

you turn and enter the house with the crazy amount of bags hanging on your arms.

“oh, sh, sh, she’s home.” you hear someone shush another person when you shut the door. you set the bags on the bottom of the stair steps and you go into the kitchen.

“oh, hey guys.” you see tera, anna, hwin and thomas all standing by and sitting on the counter. “well, if it isn’t the attention seeker and boyfriend stealer.” tera says and then giggles with anna.

you clench your jaw and open the fridge. “that’s really cute, tera.” you grab four cans of coca cola and turn. “is it? i’m just telling the truth, y/n.” tera is a lot closer to you, seems she’d walked closer.

“sure, tera, sure.” you turn from her and you leave upstairs with all your bags.

you shut your door and you set everything by your desk, including the drinks which sit on your desk.

“you gonna do anything ‘bout it?” johnnys voice from last night rings through your head.

“what am i gonna do about this?” you ask yourself and think for a minute.

you sit up and undress yourself, digging through your victoria secret bag and pulling out the newest set you’d just bought hours ago.

you change into the new set and you go downstairs. you tip your head into the kitchen to see them all still there, joking around and laughing.

you push your breasts up and you pull your panties so they’re clinging onto your hips. you ruffle your hair and you walk into the kitchen.

“..it’s because there are subs in the sea—? what the hell.” you don’t turn your head when hearing multiple gasps.

“mm, anyone else want some orange juice?” you stand from the fridge with a carton of orange juice in hand. “what are you wearing, you slut!” tera yells as you open the carton and chug the juice.

you screw the cap back on and you do a slow twirl. “me? oh, geez. this isn’t provocative enough, is it? should i wear a t-shirt without a bra on?”

hwin and thomas snicker but stop when being silently scolded by anna.

“put some clothes on! ugh, you’re acting like a whore, right now!” tera screams at you. “oh, does me being comfortable in my own home make you feel uncomfortable?” tera’s’ eyes twitch as she clenches her jaw and hands.

“do you know how insecure you’re making me right now?!” your eyebrows pinch together.

“you’re the worst roommate ever!” you frown and cross your arms. “that sucks for you! you’re free leave if me being comfortable in my own home bothers you.” you smile and it only makes her more irritated.

tera cries out loudly and runs out the kitchen with her hands over her face.

“woah, real jerk move, y/n. you know how insecure she is and you’re just making her more self conscious than she needs to be.” anna says walking up the you with thomas following behind, holding her waist as if she was going to lunge at you.

“you’re can leave too. i don’t need to hear thomas and tera having sex while you’re showering.” you look at anna and then gasp. “oops, that just slipped out.” you shrug and slowly, thomas slips his hands off anna’s waist.

anna turns to thomas and slaps him across the face. “you’ve been sleeping with my roommate behind my back?!” thomas shakes his head and stammers over his words.

“baby, i promise—?!” anna yanks his ear and pulls him outside while bitching at him.

“ah, peace and quiet. oh, hwin.. forgot about you. be a dear and go help your girlfriend pack her stuff.” you turn and as you’re about to leave, you see johnny walking inside with a bag of food.

he’s looking behind him as he enters the house. “geez, what happened to them.” johnny scoffs and then looks up to see you half naked.

“hi,” you smile and hold up your hand. “wow, what a pleasant surprise.” johnny smirks and walks up towards you.

johnny grabs your hips and squeeze your ass. “all for me, huh?” you bite your lip and nod with a head tilt. “always.”

johnny looks behind you and sees hwin coming out the kitchen. johnnys huge hand blocks the view of your ass as his stare sharpens.

“c’mon, let’s go upstairs.” johnny turns you around and then blocks the view of your chest while ushering you upstairs.

you giggle as johnny kicks your door shut and locks it. “jealous, are you?” johnny sets the bag of food on your desk and grabs your waist. “why wouldn’t i be? there’s something staring at what’s mine.”

“so, i’m yours all of a sudden?” johnny picks you up and carries you to the bed. “you’ve always been mine, baby.”

johnny spreads your legs and kisses you on your lips. your hand goes to johnnys cheek as you kiss him back, johnny lifts your knee to his waist and grinds his bulge against your pussy.

“you’re so hard, johnny.” you moan in between the kiss. “i’m always hard for you, y/n.” johnny pulls away and rubs your thighs.

johnny pushes your panties aside and teases your slit. “fuck, you’re so wet for me.” you moan as his fingers enter you slowly.

“let’s get you nice and stretched out for me.” johnny thrusts his fingers into your cunt and bites his bottom lip.

“c’mon, johnny.” you whine impatiently. “nuh-uh, the last time you made me skip foreplay, you were in pain because of the stretch.” you giggle and shake your head. “i was just eager and being greedy.”

johnny presses a kiss on your clit and continues to thrust his fingers inside of you.

a door being slammed causes you to sit up. “was that..?” you nod and meet eyes with johnny and suddenly the two of you burst into a fit of laughter.

“she seems pissed, what happened?” johnny removes his fingers from you and undressed himself. “ugh,” you scoff and sit up. “long story short, we argued and i told her to leave if my comfortability of me dressing up how ever i wanted to while being in my own home made her uncomfortable.”

“so, she left?” he jerks himself off and grabs your thighs, yanking you closer. “apparently,” you grab him by the nape and you yank his head down so that your noses are inches apart. “now, shut up and fuck me.”

johnny reaches for the nightstand and opens the dresser, he digs for a condom and finds two foil wrappers.

“enough for two rounds, baby.” johnny holds up the two foils between his fingers. “let’s use them wisely.” he winks with a smirk.

“ooorrr,” you sing. “we can go raw after we finish using these two.” you snatch the foils and mock his smirk.

“fffuck, baby!” johnny growls and climbs over you. “i’m so hard right now and that just made me even harder.” you giggle and tear one of the foils open.

johnny captures your lips and cups your face while you slide the condom on his hard cock. you press a hand on johnnys chest when he grabs your thighs, positioning you for missionary.

“let’s do our second go to position.” johnny nods and flips you so that you’re on your stomach. “your ass looks so good, babe.” you moan and wince when johnny lands a spank on your ass.

johnny yanks your hips up and kneads your ass, massaging the red handprint on your ass cheek. “‘m sorry, was i too rough?” you shake your head with your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“you’re so perfect.” johnny whispers and pulls your panties to the side. “so fucking perfect.” strings of your wetness pulls with your panties causing johnny to fall weak.

you fall to your chest and on your cheek when johnny pushes into you. your body tightens and strains when getting used to johnnys length and thickness.

“relax, baby.” you shake your head and bite back moans that threatened to spill. “c—can’t, you’re too big.” a thrust has your moans spilling from you like crazy. “oh, geez, babe. i didn’t know i felt that good.”

you stretch forward and push your hips back. “you always feel good.. always.” you sigh and relax.

“slow first, please.” johnny smooths his hand down your back and hums. “i know, baby. just let me know when you wanna change the speed.” you nod while softly humming to yourself.

johnny starts off slow, his hips rocking at a stable pace wile grunting and groaning and listening to your cute whimpers and moans.

johnnys hands massage your waist and hips while whispering to you about how you’re an amazing person and how you’re doing great for him.

you bounce your hips back to match johnnys little thrusts. johnny smiles at your hips fighting back and the sight of your ass bouncing back.

it takes you a few minutes to notice that johnny had stopped his thrusts and left you alone to do the work.

“nuh-uh,” johnny pulls your hips when you stop. “keep it goin’, baby. i’m so close.” you bite your lip, the thought of johnny cumming so easily to slow vanilla sex got you off.

“i love when you cum so easily.. especially during vanilla sex.” johnny yanks on your hair. “hm, you do?” you nod and shake your hips side to side.

johnny keeps a firm grip on your hair as you bounce your hips back. johnnys thrusts grew sloppy and his grip on your hair grew tighter, his breath was slipping.

a thought comes to johnnys mind and he smirks. he licks his thumb and rims your ass. “john!” you gasp, jerking in a shock response.

you and johnny have only done anal several times and the feeling always caught you off guard.

“it’s okay, baby.“ johnnys jaw drops at the tightness around his cock and around the tip of his thumb.

you struggle to move your hips, mind focusing on johnnys thumb up your ass. johnny frees your scalp and grabs your hips, yanking them towards him and moaning out loud as he cums into the rubber.

“geez,” johnny removed his finger. “my dick is so easily manipulated.” you laugh while johnny removes and ties the used rubber.

“c’mere, let’s do the position that we always do when we’re lazy.” you tug him next to you and you lay down, not listening to his laughing, “what?”

johnny watches as you lay on your side and push out your ass. “babe,” you look back and hum. “can i fuck your ass?”

you bite your tongue. “m—my ass?” you sit up and see johnny with a worried and hopeful face. “sure, we can try it again. but, promise me you’ll stop when i tell you to.”

“baby, i’ll obey to anything you say. you wanna spend all my money, go right ahead.” johnny chuckles.

“let me peg you.”

“that, i will not obey to.” you and him laugh.

you bite your lip, “the lube is in my bathroom. under the sink, behind the conditioner bottle.” johnny hops off the bed and runs to the bathroom, quickly coming back with the bottle of lube in hand.

“are your nervous?” you ask johnny while ripping open the foil. “nervous?” you nod and sink with the bed as johnny climbs on.

“sex without a condom.” you remind him. “right, i mean, we can always wait until we get more.” johnny reminds you.

you slide the condom on johnny and look up at him. “are you clean?” he nods, “healthy as a horse.” he smiles brightly.

johnny gives the bottle a slight shake and pops the cap, tilting it and rubbing some lube on his cock. “are you clean?” you nod, “very.”

“i’m on birth control but, i still want you to pull out.” johnny nods firmly. “i’ll pull out, baby.”

you and johnny lay on your sides and with the lubed condom, johnny slides into you. slowly working his way into you.

your hand on his hips, slowly guiding him in. “you’re so tight, baby.” johnny hisses, his cock twitching in your back entrance.

“put some more lube, it’s.. kind of hurting.” johnny complies and adds more lube to your ass and his cock.

“it just the stretch, baby. i’m sorry.” he presses a kiss on your shoulder and rubs your hips.

johnny does shallow thrusts, your ass tightening around his tip. johnny is more vocal with this hole and with this position, he moans and groans more loudly.

“i’m okay now,” johnny hums in questioning. “you can move faster.” excitement shoots through johnny once again.

johnny runs his hands up to your breasts and tweaks your nipples. johnny lifts your leg as he slowly pounds into you, too scared to go faster.

“fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” johnny moans and reaches below your hips. johnny rubs your clit and cries out at the tightening of your ass.

without warning, johnny realizes his load into the condom.

johnny pants and groans while he realizes his second load of the night. “fuck me,” johnny sighs. “that was good.” he huffs and puffs while slowly pulling out of you.

johnny only recovers for a minute before you’re up and pouncing on him. “giddy up, tiger. i wanna ride you.” you sit up on your knees and you hold up johnnys cock, pinching the tip of the rubber and pulling it off.

you toss the untied rubber and then you sink yourself on the barely harden thing.

“oh, shit.” johnny sighs and your nails dig into johnnys chest. “wow, this feels so amazing.” you shut your eyes and exhale slowly.

you throw the rubber on your nightstand and begin to ride johnny who holds your hips and guides you to ride him.

“you feel so much better without a condom.” johnny laughs.

the only time you and johnny went raw was when you both were drunk and when it was just the tip. even when drunk, johnny was careful enough to pull out just in time, pulling out and cumming down your back.

“why does your cock feel so much bigger without a condom?”

johnny chuckles, “i got so much harder when you climbed on me and ripped off the condom like it was nothing.”

you bounce your hips down and johnny picks them up, letting you drop yourself at whatever pace, whether it was slow or fast.

you pull your hands away from johnnys chest and you run your hands up your body. you moan when johnny grabs your breast and circles your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

you shove his hand away from you and you slide your hands from his abs to his neck. “you feel so good, babe.” you sigh and rocks your hips.

alternatively fastening your pace when johnny spanks you several times.

you grumble when johnnys cock slips out of you when you accidentally lift your hips a bit too high.

johnny picks up his cock and allows you to sink yourself down. “yes,” you whine and reposition your legs for better comfort.

“fuck me, y/n. fuck me.” johnny grits and helps you bounce on his cock.

“you feel too good— i’m gonna cum.” johnny groans and squeezes your hips with a face of discomfort. “shit, i’m cumming!”

you hop off johnnys dick and you grab him by the base, jerking him and sticking out your tongue while his dick twitches as he nears.

your eyes pinch shut when feeling johnny shoot his cum on your face. your face is painted in white ribbons.

you wipe your face with your fingers and lick them clean with giggles while being stared down by johnny. “fuck, you’re so sexy.” johnny groans and chuckles.

johnny only shuts his eyes for a minute before you’re climbing on him once again. “again?” johnny half whines.

“one more round, baby.” you say looking back at him while positioning yourself. “okay, before you.. get started— lemme sit up, i’m gettin’ kind of lightheaded.”

you throw yourself to the side and allow johnny to sit up against your headboard.

johnny picks you up and sits you on his lap. his face met with your ass and sadly, your face is met with his feet.

“let’s get you a pedi tomorrow.” you suggest and johnny agrees with no questions.

“aw shit,” johnny smirks as he realizes the position. “seems i’ve gotta cowgirl in bed. it’s about’ta get wild in here.”

you giggle and johnny holds up his cock for you, grabbing your ass and lowering you on the thing.

you roll your hips and moan as johnnys cock hits you differently. you gasp and johnny pushes you foward.

johnnys hands play with your ass while he drags your ass back.

johnny grunts and groans in pleasure while watching how beautifully your cunt swallows up his dick.

your moans turn lazy as johnny manipulates your hips to move with however he wanted them to. johnny runs a hand down your arch and then spanks you with a growl.

“i’m cumming, johnny.. my pussy..” you laugh and shake your head.

johnny rubs your clit and within minutes, you’re moaning and creaming all over his dick.

johnny soon follows with his dick snuggled between your ass and his tip spurting out white substances on your cheeks and back.

your body slips forward and your body goes flat. “my pretty baby.” johnny giggles.

you gasp and your feet fly up when feeling johnny suck on you ass cheeks. his cheeks hallowed as he suck blood to the surface of your skin. his tongue laps up the white substances.

johnny falls next to you and softly laughs.

“johnny?” the man hums and throws his hands above his head. “can we shower?” he chuckles and turns on his side, collecting you and kissing your jaw. “we can shower.” he confirms.

“carry me?” johnny clicks his tongue and whines a bit. “carry youuu?” he extends.

you smack his chest. “i’m tireddd.” you pout your lips and rub the spot on his chest where you smacked moments ago.

“you can walk, can’t you?”

you scoot back and then kick him off the bed. “oh look, you’re up! how about now?” johnny laughs while on the ground. “you’re such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

you sit up and reach your arms out while johnny stumbles back on his feet. “c’monnnn, lets go shower!” you squeal when johnny grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder.

“we’re going for another round in the shower, i hope you know that.” johnny says while carrying you to the bathroom.

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