So I had a drabble off.
yakiseop and I had a drabble off and this happened??? Well, yeah.
Care
Xiumin/Luhan. G. Prompt. Flávia, you need to get over this.
There are, Luhan knows for a fact, some trust issues on Minseok’s part. It’s understandable, really - Luhan is younger, has round, sparkly marbles for eyes and doesn’t always make the most sensible choices, all traits that put him by default on the receiver end of the protection chain. He feels Minseok’s affection in form of a caring hand on his shoulder and the patient ears the older one lends him whenever he’s upset, with a knot in his chest he just can’t seem to undo until he’s spilled all the negative things hiding in him into the other.
But Luhan’s human, a sensitive human being with true feelings right on his sleeve, so he feels the insistent urge to defend Minseok, put his small form in his arms and cradle him away from all bad things the world could possibly throw at him. He doesn’t know, however, how to express it, always left chewing nervously at his lip as Minseok’s gaze stays trained on the floor at the end of a draining work day.
That’s until he gets to exercise the most literal interpretation of the tingling in his chest, arms safely wrapped around Minseok’s back and thighs, holding him close to his chest with brows folded, intent on not ever letting go. He’s immensely pleased with himself, putting all of his strength into not letting the older boy down, disappointment being a word he wants clear from Minseok’s mind when it wanders through the memories of him.
It’s just so good to finally be the one to be depended on.
(And there’s the way Minseok clamps his hands around his shoulders, the perfect fit of his face in the crook of his neck, and Luhan explodes inside. That is all very, very good too, he concludes as he schools his face into a harder frown before it can dissolve into a gooey grin. The effort almost makes him let Minseok slip.)
A lump in his throat
Onew/Kai (hinted Onew/Taemin). R. Prompt. The joke was ready, I just bit the bait tbh. And also, fuck you, Kai.
It’s not the taste, wicked as it may be, that makes Jongin cringe while he blinks wetly at the floor, propped on the flat of his palms to watch, in blurs, the tears dropping from his eyes, the cum leaking from his own abused, slackened lips, the shift of feet in front of him as the sounds of rustling fabric and metallic clinking touch his ears. Fingers meet his chin, tilt it up - he sees the older boy peer into his glassy eyes, something that could be worry flickering in his pupils before he flashes a small smile, probably deeming Jongin to be alright. Pat on the cheek, mumble of gratefulness, and fading footsteps - door swinging open, then closed. Culprit gone, he’s left with the evidences.
It’s not the sting in scalp, either. He inspects the probably reddened skin with the pads of his fingers, checking to make sure the unlikely but surprisingly believable hypothesis of having chunks of his hair torn off is indeed untrue. His fingers comb his bangs back into their place but he can still feel the tug on them, vicious and completely passionate, addictive, encouraging him to take more, suck harder, open up, Jongin ah, open the fuck up.
It’s not the saliva he has to swipe off his chin with the collar of his shirt, which he only realized had been dripping a second after it was over. All he could feel was cock - stretching his lips, abusing his cheeks, teasing his tongue and fucking his virgin throat just right, the strong smell of sex invading his nostrils as they buried into pubic hair. The boy had commented something about Jongin being so moist, so fucking wet, but back then he could only feel encouraged to hollow his cheeks around the erection in his mouth, it never occurred to him it might have been a hint at his drooling.
It’s not the burn in his knees as he raises to his feet, nor is it the numbness taking over his entire head. It’s not Taemin’s cheeky smile greeting him when he steps out after collecting enough of himself off the floor to face the world outside that restroom.
It’s not, to clear all bashful doubts, the fact he’d just sucked off the head of student council, hoping the soft-spoken boy by the name of Lee Jinki would keep that fresh in his mind when discussing the amount of breaks from classes the school’s baseball team would be able to have in the council’s next meeting with the headmaster, following his friend’s advice (“I have done way too much for the team, it’s time you put some effort into it as well,” Taemin had said).
Hell, it’s not even the stain he just now notices is adorning his pants, probably from his own cum.
“Well?” Taemin asks, brow crooked and grin teasing, his shoulder bumping against Jongin’s in a friendly, maybe even comforting greeting. Licking his lips, Jongin furrows his brows lightly and finally meets Taemin’s gaze in the most honest glare he thinks he’ll ever give, fingertips touching his throat to realize just how sore it feels.
“I thought my adam’s apple was going to come out.”
Care
Xiumin/Luhan. G. Prompt. Flávia, you need to get over this.
There are, Luhan knows for a fact, some trust issues on Minseok’s part. It’s understandable, really - Luhan is younger, has round, sparkly marbles for eyes and doesn’t always make the most sensible choices, all traits that put him by default on the receiver end of the protection chain. He feels Minseok’s affection in form of a caring hand on his shoulder and the patient ears the older one lends him whenever he’s upset, with a knot in his chest he just can’t seem to undo until he’s spilled all the negative things hiding in him into the other.
But Luhan’s human, a sensitive human being with true feelings right on his sleeve, so he feels the insistent urge to defend Minseok, put his small form in his arms and cradle him away from all bad things the world could possibly throw at him. He doesn’t know, however, how to express it, always left chewing nervously at his lip as Minseok’s gaze stays trained on the floor at the end of a draining work day.
That’s until he gets to exercise the most literal interpretation of the tingling in his chest, arms safely wrapped around Minseok’s back and thighs, holding him close to his chest with brows folded, intent on not ever letting go. He’s immensely pleased with himself, putting all of his strength into not letting the older boy down, disappointment being a word he wants clear from Minseok’s mind when it wanders through the memories of him.
It’s just so good to finally be the one to be depended on.
(And there’s the way Minseok clamps his hands around his shoulders, the perfect fit of his face in the crook of his neck, and Luhan explodes inside. That is all very, very good too, he concludes as he schools his face into a harder frown before it can dissolve into a gooey grin. The effort almost makes him let Minseok slip.)
A lump in his throat
Onew/Kai (hinted Onew/Taemin). R. Prompt. The joke was ready, I just bit the bait tbh. And also, fuck you, Kai.
It’s not the taste, wicked as it may be, that makes Jongin cringe while he blinks wetly at the floor, propped on the flat of his palms to watch, in blurs, the tears dropping from his eyes, the cum leaking from his own abused, slackened lips, the shift of feet in front of him as the sounds of rustling fabric and metallic clinking touch his ears. Fingers meet his chin, tilt it up - he sees the older boy peer into his glassy eyes, something that could be worry flickering in his pupils before he flashes a small smile, probably deeming Jongin to be alright. Pat on the cheek, mumble of gratefulness, and fading footsteps - door swinging open, then closed. Culprit gone, he’s left with the evidences.
It’s not the sting in scalp, either. He inspects the probably reddened skin with the pads of his fingers, checking to make sure the unlikely but surprisingly believable hypothesis of having chunks of his hair torn off is indeed untrue. His fingers comb his bangs back into their place but he can still feel the tug on them, vicious and completely passionate, addictive, encouraging him to take more, suck harder, open up, Jongin ah, open the fuck up.
It’s not the saliva he has to swipe off his chin with the collar of his shirt, which he only realized had been dripping a second after it was over. All he could feel was cock - stretching his lips, abusing his cheeks, teasing his tongue and fucking his virgin throat just right, the strong smell of sex invading his nostrils as they buried into pubic hair. The boy had commented something about Jongin being so moist, so fucking wet, but back then he could only feel encouraged to hollow his cheeks around the erection in his mouth, it never occurred to him it might have been a hint at his drooling.
It’s not the burn in his knees as he raises to his feet, nor is it the numbness taking over his entire head. It’s not Taemin’s cheeky smile greeting him when he steps out after collecting enough of himself off the floor to face the world outside that restroom.
It’s not, to clear all bashful doubts, the fact he’d just sucked off the head of student council, hoping the soft-spoken boy by the name of Lee Jinki would keep that fresh in his mind when discussing the amount of breaks from classes the school’s baseball team would be able to have in the council’s next meeting with the headmaster, following his friend’s advice (“I have done way too much for the team, it’s time you put some effort into it as well,” Taemin had said).
Hell, it’s not even the stain he just now notices is adorning his pants, probably from his own cum.
“Well?” Taemin asks, brow crooked and grin teasing, his shoulder bumping against Jongin’s in a friendly, maybe even comforting greeting. Licking his lips, Jongin furrows his brows lightly and finally meets Taemin’s gaze in the most honest glare he thinks he’ll ever give, fingertips touching his throat to realize just how sore it feels.
“I thought my adam’s apple was going to come out.”