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on heat nests and the implied intimacy of such situations
t / m rated?. sunghoon pov, i-land era. heeseung/jay/sunghoon + jungwon (ft sunoo). 1,690 words.
only a small portion of this was originally written for tell me this ends in light before the multi pov aspect was abandoned. it was then quickly added to a doc for maybe/potential later use, and has been expanded on several different occasions with different purposes in mind. not entirely sure how i feel abt this characterisation / dynamics as presented here rn unlike the other two ficlets that def are canon (to me) (to this universe).. so keep in mind it might not be entirely canon. but i do like the idea of omegas in heat pushing alphas to be horny messes that need a helping hand. or two.

Sunoo looks mightily pleased with himself. Vanilla and lavender stick to his clothes, perhaps even his skin; the notes are foreign and familiar at once. Earlier the vanilla had been syrupy, overwhelmingly sticky and sweet, but now that Jungwon’s heat had broken it has matted into something quite light and powdery and dry. Not too dissimilar to the powderiness of Jungwon’s pup scent in a way.

Sunghoon swallows. He’s not sure what to make of the look on Sunoo’s face, the younger boy equal parts predictable and unpredictable, which means his behaviours are a little too often surprising for Sunghoon to really know how to interact with him. Strangers are always tricky; ones that don’t exhibit clear patterns even more so.

“Before you all can see him, I just wanted to say sorry, really— we took your bed at first, hyung,” Sunoo says to Heeseung; smiling sweetly, too sweetly, and Sunghoon can see the way Heeseung’s brain short circuits at the information. Large eyes wide and almost unseeing, mouth falling open for a split second before snapping it shut, his jaw tightly clenched. Heeseung’s hands fist the fabric of his sweatpants.

What alpha wouldn’t like to hear that? Two pretty omegas in his bed, one of them in heat, the other helping him out— and Sunghoon feels a little guilty for his thoughts and the twinge of jealousy he feels at it. It’s Jungwon, and Sunoo, not just some fantasy. It’s two people, two omegas, that they know. Not the plot of some random cheap porno.

Sunoo is too much of a menace sometimes, a bit of a tease when he decides to be. Coy. Mischievous. Heartwrenchingly pretty.

“Only until Jungwonie felt, ah, a little better? Then we built a nest, tucked in close to the wall,” Sunoo continues, a content little hum slipping out that is so omegan Sunghoon’s breath stutters, as Sunoo is clearly proud of his own contribution, “Well, I did most of the building, but he made it his own too.”

A blush spreads across Heeseung’s face at the mention of Jungwon feeling better. Sunghoon can feel his own ears burning. Thinks, ‘has that wall over there always been so interesting?’ even though he ever so often finds himself zoning out normally.

Everyone knows what ‘feeling better’ means for an omega in heat.

Yah, Kim Sunoo!” Jongseong’s loud voice scolds him, shoving at Sunoo’s arm. They’re not quite close enough yet for Jongseong to do what he would’ve with one of the other betas or alphas, which would be a light slap to the back of the head— but it gets the message across. Sunoo shoots him a dirty look, somewhat betrayed, and sniffs indignantly. It’s very cute, puffed out cheeks and pouty lips.

“Sorry for keeping you updated. Here I thought you all cared about Jungwon-ah,” Sunoo says,

Without leaving room for arguments, he spins around and takes off, back to the room Jungwon is nesting in. Having just gone through his first heat.

Heeseung is still staring into space.

The tent in his sweatpants goes unmentioned. Jongseong and Sunghoon’s eyes meet.

Even to Sunghoon’s unpresented nose Heeseung’s scent is strong, and Jongseong squirms a little at his side; whether he was affected more by the picture Sunoo had painted or Heeseung’s overwhelming scent was hard to tell. It doesn’t inspire the same instantaneous reaction in Sunghoon by the very nature of his lack of presentation, but he has functioning eyes.

It’s easy to reach past Jongseong and press a kiss to Heeseung’s mouth, lips meeting a little more sloppily than intended as he tries to keep his balance by carrying his full weight on one hand— one of Jongseong’s hands shoots out to wrap around his wrist to help steady him. Steady Jongseong, gentle Jongseong. Always so supportive.

Heeseung makes a surprised noise but the tension melts out of his posture, an arm reaching out until he tugs on Sunghoon’s hair to direct him into a better position. Their lips press together again, lazily, and Heeseung’s tongue comes out to lick at the seam of Sunghoon’s lips.

“Mm, Sunghoonie,” he murmurs, voice pleased. Hoarse. Sunghoon shudders, a little, something pleasant sparking up his spine. Another kiss, a little less tongue. “Thank you.”

“Always so good for hyung,” Jongseong says, a little teasing. As if he’s not just as bad, so sweet when it’s him and Heeseung. Sunghoon would like to bite back, feeling a little more comfortable in doing so for the longer this thing between them goes on, but he still feels the almost faint taste of vanilla and marshmallow linger in the back of his nose, his mouth. It must be so much worse for them. So he nudges Heeseung’s cheek with his nose, licks across his mouth before using his head to push him in Jongseong’s direction.

Jongseong flusters a little at becoming both of their focus, head tipping down and long fringe framing his face.

“C’mere,” Heeseung rasps out.

Heeseung’s eyes are dark. His sweatpants straining. If he wouldn’t have to shift his weight to not topple over if he tried, Sunghoon would reach out to touch him over the fabric. The thick and heavy length of his dick is something Sunghoon knows at this point.

Jongseong doesn’t turn shy too easily, but here he is, pink cheeked and gaze never quite meeting Heeseung’s— yet he surges forward, determined, and captures Heeseung’s mouth in a kiss of their own.

Three-way kisses are messy and serve little purpose in Sunghoon’s opinion. They’ve tried, and that level of spit isn’t something he enjoyed, but rather found dirty and not in a fun way. There is something to be said for watching the two other boys kiss up close instead. Jongseong’s lips are plush even though his mouth is small, and the wet glide of Heeseung’s tongue as he licks into his mouth, teeth tugging at the bottom lip, makes heat pool low in Sunghoon’s stomach.

To this day Sunghoon doesn’t quite understand why they set out on inviting him into their dynamic; there had been other trainees closer to either or both of them. Sunghoon isn’t falsely humble enough to pretend he doesn’t know how handsome he is, but there are plenty of good looking people trying to become idols, and beyond that even more that had already presented.

He didn’t necessarily feel insecure about it, but one of the main reasons some people would not engage romantically or date unpresented individuals was in case they ended up a subgender they simply weren’t attracted to. A risk some deemed not worth taking. They were uncommon enough of a pairing too, male alpha and male beta, so Sunghoon supposed that him being another oddity wasn’t too much of a difference.

One of Heeseung’s hands comes up cup Jongseong’s jaw, a thick thumb swiping across the smattering of moles and freckles on his cheekbone as he deepens the kiss. Jongseong has been looking tired, more so than usual, than even the rest of them. The constant roller coaster up and downs of his ranking taking their toll, but also from worry for Jungwon. Heeseung’s scent flares, and Jongseong melts into their kiss.

Jongseong had always been bold, quite forceful, always forging ahead with determination. It was how he made friends, how he went about his time as a trainee, how he was currently going through I-Land. It didn’t always work out the way he intended, but then he just tried again.

It had been almost overwhelming at first, but Sunghoon had come to trust Jongseong’s instincts. To rely on them. Seeing Jongseong and how sweet he became for Heeseung when touched right, despite all his bluster and bravado, feels intimate as a result.

Heeseung doesn’t have to be rough with him, or demanding, but he is certain and knowing. And Jongseong yields, time and time again— happily, craving it, despite how he fights and pushes.

Sunghoon knows how good it feels to have Heeseung’s hands and lips on you. How Heeseung doesn’t have to take, because it being Heeseung makes you want to give. Larger than life, Lee Heeseung. There is a little bit of hero worship among all of them surrounding him, the narrative he carries along with him. It means something to be Heeseung’s in this place.

Jongseong moans sharply and pulls back from their kiss, wiping at his wet mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. Heeseung stares at him.

“Why’d you bite m—”

“You smell of vanilla, Jongseong,” Heeseung says, hiding behind his own sleeve, “why do you— you shouldn’t.”

It takes a moment for Heeseung’s words to sink in, another for it to click for Sunghoon.

Jongseong had touched Sunoo, however briefly. Jongseong had spent enough time as close to Jungwon as he could through the physical barriers that it wasn’t impossible for it to still stick to him or his clothes, even with all the scent neutralisers that had been applied.

He shifts belatedly, moves in close, so he can put a hand on Heeseung without toppling over. Gets his attention with a gentle touch, smiles a little to soothe the furrow in Heeseung’s brows, the hard set of his mouth. He’s glad he doesn’t feel challenged or forced into defeat, being as unaffected as he still is; he can only imagine the weight of Heeseung’s scent for Jongseong, who makes a choked little sound.

“Hyung,” Sunghoon says gently, “scent neutralisers won’t get everything. We— you know this>.”

“The fuck,” says Jongseong, confused, and perhaps a bit noseblind. Unaware of how the omegas are ever so faintly present. “You can’t just do shit—”

“Is that how you speak to hyung?” Heeseung asks. There is nothing hard or rough to his words, no perceptible anger.

Jongseong looks contrite, ducking his gaze the way he does when he doesn’t want to apologise but feels as though he has done wrong by Heeseung. His lip is bleeding. The iron scent of it is hidden by all the other scents in the air.

“Hyung,” Sunghoon says. Squeezes Heeseung’s arm. He nuzzled against his cheek, his forward movement making him bump into Jongseong.



vainglory
e rated. heeseung pov, undefined era. heeseung/jay. 224 words.
"what if we were alpha and beta boyfriends but we kinked on the idea of me bitching you" heejay has been canon to this verse since april last year, to the detriment of my mental health

Jongseong wasn’t made for this, for taking alpha cock, sitting stretched around a knot and getting bred—

“But you were made for me, weren't you, Jongseong-ah?” Heeseung asks, forgoing the inner monologue to instead involve Jongseong in every next step of his thought process.

Brash, bold, Jongseong; sweet, whimpering at the slow growth of Heeseung’s knot inside of him. They have done this enough times for them both to know that if they take their time, take it slow, it’s okay to not stretch Jongseong out for too long before they start. The slow swell, the slow stretch.

[...]

“You’d let me, if I asked, wouldn’t you?” Heeseung asks with sudden clarity; the dark desire unfurls like a springtime blossom, heavy and stained with rot. Jongseong blinks, confused, eyes slightly teary from how much he’s feeling already — he clearly has no idea what Heeseung is talking about, and it makes Heeseung’s teeth itch to bite down on golden skin, at his neck.

“Wha— hyung?”

“You’d let me,” Heeseung begins, grinding his hips in slow, small circles, just to have Jongseong whimper, “fuck you. Until you become an omega for me. Wouldn’t you, Jongseong-ah?”

Jongseong fucking comes.

He tightens up so much on Heeseung’s cock, his knot, now almost fully grown, that he almost drags Heeseung with him, hurtling towards his own orgasm, already so close.



observant
jungwon pov, i-land. sunghoon&jungwon, mild sunghoon/jungwon and referenced heejay(ke)hoon. 894 words.
written too late to be able to work it into tell me this ends in light in a natural way since i already felt there was issues with the pacing, but this is the conversation referenced in the one of the last sections of the fic, where the paragraph starts with “He doesn’t dare set his hope to the producers, no matter how logical it had sounded when Sunghoon said it a couple of nights ago when they were sitting alone, having a midnight snack.”. something something parallelisms = understanding = soulmateisms etc.

Jungwon is observant. Sunghoon is an observer, too.

“You’re here to debut, are you not?” Sunghoon asks simply. As if it really was that simple. It strikes Jungwon then how his words mirror what he told the others, when the attention of everyone and the slightly pointed, slightly barbed questions (all under the guise of jokeful curiosity) had been lobbed at him.

In moments like this, it’s easy to see how he made it as far into his athletic career as he did when most children gave up sooner or later, never progressing much past the initial stages if they ever reached even those. The resilience, the certainty once you have visualised your goal, having it lead your expectations and your way.

Their sports had been different, though both solitary experiences, yet ultimately it was always one’s own efforts showing the results.

Sunghoon performed, was evaluated, and then boldly received his score. Waited for his name to be called, the rankings distributed. He is used to calculating scores in his head, seeing where others would have points docked from faulty execution,

Jungwon faced his opponents head on, only the two of them mattered.

Despite his wins and the medals to show for it, he came out on the wrong side more often than he would have liked after a match. That feeling was in part born from his immaturity, something natural coming from being a child, but also the actuality of it; too young, too impulsive, too thoughtless, overthinking, too small, not packing enough of a punch. (Hanbin’s gentle smile, the shuddering breath he let out trying to compose himself, not allowing even Jungwon’s tears to sway him.)

“Yeah,” Jungwon replies. His voice is barely above a whisper, and that’s being generous.

“Self-doubt doesn’t suit you, Jungwon-ah,” Sunghoon says then. Gentler. “One more chance. Take in the critique, learn from it. You can do it. You have so far.”

“Our fates have already been decided by the time the finale comes around,” Jungwon says, less to argue but to bring the conversation back down to Earth before it flies high enough to be a dream. That’s the reality. The live voting is unlikely to massively change the outcome, and Jungwon is fairly confident that the voting between the last episode to air before the finale is unlikely to change the trend of his results.

Sunghoon’s fingers are long, a little cool to the touch as they card through Jungwon’s hair. What little fight he has in him disappears, his body growing lax at the feeling. A small chuckle leaves the older boy; the one that sounds a little awkward even though Sunghoon is far from it at this moment, every line of his body relaxed. Sometimes Jungwon wonders if Sunghoon never really learnt how to laugh around other kids, always holding back, unsure if it was allowed to feel so freely. His smile is so pretty it makes Jungwon’s chest ache a little, those sharp canine teeth glinting a pearly white framed by soft, pink lips.

Those lips have touched Heeseung’s, Jongseong’s — maybe even Jake’s.

The thought of what they would feel like against his own is equal parts daunting and thrilling.

“Maybe so,” Sunghoon agrees. It doesn’t feel as damning as it does realistic. Practical. Jungwon knows what he’s getting at. “But we’ve made our choices. There’s no turning back time.”

Sunghoon’s eyes are gentle, his smile soft. There’s a bit of sauce stuck to the corner of his mouth, and Jungwon gestures to it, says “You’ve got, yea—” as Sunghoon wipes it away, “there, got it.”

“Thanks,” Sunghoon says. Takes another bite. He chews slowly, swallows it down. “Jungwon-ah, you’ve heard what the producers and mentors have said about you.”

“If we can’t connect with the audience, the fans— I don’t know how to make them like me.”

“You can’t put your faith in others, only in your own performance, and hope credit is given where credit is due, if there’s any fairness to the game,” Sunghoon says. “None of us knew what we went into coming here.”

Jungwon thinks of Sunghoon on the ice the day they went on the reward outing; how he soared on it with his skates, his smile wide and easy in a way that Jungwon had never quite seen before.

It seemed as unreal then as now that Sunghoon chose to be here, giving all of that up. A part of himself he had dedicated so much time and effort and love and pain into.

For what? The hope, the dream of something different, almost as difficult to reach and achieve if one wanted to reach the top of the world?

There was no promise Sunghoon would make it, survival shows could throw everything known to the wind in the final episode; even if he seemed to have caught the attention of fans and the producers, even if his ranks have been solidly high, if never the highest.

Sunghoon is gentle in ways people don’t expect him to be. Shy, careful. Caring. Jungwon remembers how quiet he had been close to two years ago, when Jungwon was a new trainee, long before the show had started. Where the other had seen the rigorous rigidity with which Jungwon trained, never dallying, rarely playing, and thought it impressive due to his age Sunghoon had seen kinship, someone like-minded.
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