Better Than Acupuncture (WFLT AU oneshot)
Title: Better Than Acupuncture
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: DooSeob
Summary: Sex doesn't solve everything, but it's a good stress outlet. Yoseob understands this.
A/N: I don't know about you guys, but I'd rather have angry sex with Yoon-leadah for stress than get a thousand needles poked into me. Or angry sex with Seob. Or an angry threesome with both of them. Either way. Better than needles or some lame rubber ball to squeeze. Or a tub of ice cream because that will make me fat whereas sex with DooSeob will burn calories. And so yeah, this is what I meant by other things in between WFLT chapters. It's short and fluffy and basically just me being a huge DooSeob stan and unable to stop after getting hooked during APIAPT.
Yoon Doojoon isn’t perfect.
Doojoon still gets angry and upset and on days when everything just seems to be going wrong-bad days that everyone has all the time, that a high school student is just as prone to as adults now that he’s growing up-on days when everything seems a little off-kilter and gray, on those days when he sleeps over at Yoseob’s house or when Yoseob sleeps over at his, there’s no need for talking.
It’s a day like this.
It’s a day where Doojoon is angry, is upset, because of a test he failed-because of a test in a class where the teacher misinforms them and refuses to acknowledge that she’s done wrong even when the entire class does poorly. It’s one of those days where he has to go through hard lessons where no information manages to get through to him because he stayed up till early hours finishing essays the night before.
It’s one of those days and Yoseob understands when Doojoon locks the door of the goalie’s bedroom and immediately covers Yoseob’s lips in a searing kiss-immediately thrusts his tongue into the smaller boy’s mouth, immediately starts pulling off shirts and unzipping pants and tossing off shoes and socks and gripping hair and slamming Yoseob into walls and gripping his waist with bruising strength.
Doojoon will shove Yoseob onto the bed, will attack his skin with teeth and tongue and lips, will leave Yoseob’s white throat covered in dark splotches, will pin Yoseob’s wrists to the bed, will kiss Yoseob like this is their last day on earth. Everything is rough and unrestrained and angry-angry-and Yoseob can feel how upset Doojoon is, how irritated he is, and the younger boy soaks it up like a sponge. He soaks it up and doesn’t pretend that it doesn’t turn it on because this isn’t one of those days where Yoseob teases and plays.
This is one of those days when they fuck.
They don’t make love-they don’t have sex. They fuck and rut and thrust and moan and choke and suck like animals, like instinctive creatures with no intelligence, with no feeling or memory. It’s angry and biting and hot-furious and fierce-so hot-and Yoseob doesn’t mind that Doojoon flips him over and over again and goes on and on even after Yoseob is far gone and spent and sated. Doojoon needs this and Yoseob is fine with that.
He’s fine with that because afterward, when they are lying limp and boneless and unmoving in bed, too exhausted to even pull the sheets over themselves, Doojoon is always the first to get up. The captain always gets up before Yoseob can even gather enough strength or coherency to remember his own name-he gets up and disappears, bringing back water bottles and food and apologies that aren’t even necessary because they don’t even make sense.
“You’re stupid,” Yoseob says, as they link fingers. He sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard, and watching Doojoon’s bent back as the captain sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and takes the bottle of water in Doojoon’s lap and takes a few sips.
“I’m sorry,” Doojoon repeats quietly. Again. For like-the fifth time.
The older boy’s hand tightens around Yoseob’s.
“You’re so stupid,” Yoseob says, and gets up onto his knees, shuffling forward and wrapping his arms around Doojoon’s shoulders, his chest pressed against the captain’s back. “You’re so stupid, and that’s why tomorrow we’re going together to talk to Hyori-noona and make her scare Hwang-seonsangnim into not being a bitch and giving a retake.”
“Okay,” Doojoon says, still quiet.
Yoseob sucks air into his cheeks and yanks backward with his arms, making Doojoon topple back onto the bed, feet still planted on the ground. Doojoon blinks in mild surprise up at the younger boy. “Yah,” Yoseob says, glaring slightly, “stop being depressing. There’s no point in having amazing angry sex if you’re still going to be depressing afterward.”
Doojoon blinks again. “It was good?”
Yoseob shrugs. “I mean-personally, I thought it was kind of mind-blowing.”
A tiny smile-playful and curious-creeps onto Doojoon’s face, and Yoseob leans down to kiss the half-curved lips. “You have the weirdest kinks,” the captain says and reaches up to ruffle Yoseob’s hair-which doesn’t really do much considering Yoseob’s already suffering a terrible case of just-fucked-hard hair.
“I’ll remember this the next time you tell me to put on a skirt,” Yoseob says dryly, and Doojoon smacks his shoulder lightly.
The older boy sits up then and turns around, one hand coming to hold the side of Yoseob’s face, thumb tracing over the goalie’s lips and cheek. “You’re okay then?” Doojoon asks, eyebrows furrowing a little as his gaze roams over Yoseob’s body, searching and concerned.
Yoseob throws himself onto his back, spread-eagle, dramatically. “I’m devastated, hyung,” he says playfully. “You just ravished me that fucking hard and now I won’t be able to walk for weeks.”
“Yah,” Doojoon says, “that’s not funny, Yoseob-ah.” But his grin matches Yoseob’s. “So I guess there’s nothing for it, then, if you can’t walk.” He stands up, still gloriously naked, skin somewhat shining from leftover perspiration, and turns to face away from Yoseob.
The goalie grins and stands up on the bed, wrapping his arms around Doojoon’s neck and hoisting his legs on either side of Doojoon’s waist. The captain’s arms come beneath Yoseob’s knees, holding him securely to the older boy’s back. “You’re just doing this because you like feeling my dick on you,” Yoseob smiles, cheek against the nape of Doojoon’s neck.
“Nah,” Doojoon says, covering the distance towards the adjacent bathroom, “I’m just your personal slave, that’s all.”
They reach the bathroom and Doojoon carefully lets Yoseob down to sit on the marble countertop, legs dangling and hand against the edge of the sink. Doojoon flicks on the lights and starts the water of the shower running to warm up. “Then I guess,” Yoseob says, and Doojoon turns his head from getting towels ready, “that as my personal slave, you’re going to wash me up, too?”
Doojoon puts the towels at the edge of the bathtub and comes to stand against the countertop-between Yoseob’s spread legs. The captain has his hands on Yoseob’s pale thighs, creeping upward to his waist-infinitely gentler than his bruise-tight grip just an hour ago. “Every inch of you,” Doojoon says with a grin.
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: DooSeob
Summary: Sex doesn't solve everything, but it's a good stress outlet. Yoseob understands this.
A/N: I don't know about you guys, but I'd rather have angry sex with Yoon-leadah for stress than get a thousand needles poked into me. Or angry sex with Seob. Or an angry threesome with both of them. Either way. Better than needles or some lame rubber ball to squeeze. Or a tub of ice cream because that will make me fat whereas sex with DooSeob will burn calories. And so yeah, this is what I meant by other things in between WFLT chapters. It's short and fluffy and basically just me being a huge DooSeob stan and unable to stop after getting hooked during APIAPT.
Yoon Doojoon isn’t perfect.
Doojoon still gets angry and upset and on days when everything just seems to be going wrong-bad days that everyone has all the time, that a high school student is just as prone to as adults now that he’s growing up-on days when everything seems a little off-kilter and gray, on those days when he sleeps over at Yoseob’s house or when Yoseob sleeps over at his, there’s no need for talking.
It’s a day like this.
It’s a day where Doojoon is angry, is upset, because of a test he failed-because of a test in a class where the teacher misinforms them and refuses to acknowledge that she’s done wrong even when the entire class does poorly. It’s one of those days where he has to go through hard lessons where no information manages to get through to him because he stayed up till early hours finishing essays the night before.
It’s one of those days and Yoseob understands when Doojoon locks the door of the goalie’s bedroom and immediately covers Yoseob’s lips in a searing kiss-immediately thrusts his tongue into the smaller boy’s mouth, immediately starts pulling off shirts and unzipping pants and tossing off shoes and socks and gripping hair and slamming Yoseob into walls and gripping his waist with bruising strength.
Doojoon will shove Yoseob onto the bed, will attack his skin with teeth and tongue and lips, will leave Yoseob’s white throat covered in dark splotches, will pin Yoseob’s wrists to the bed, will kiss Yoseob like this is their last day on earth. Everything is rough and unrestrained and angry-angry-and Yoseob can feel how upset Doojoon is, how irritated he is, and the younger boy soaks it up like a sponge. He soaks it up and doesn’t pretend that it doesn’t turn it on because this isn’t one of those days where Yoseob teases and plays.
This is one of those days when they fuck.
They don’t make love-they don’t have sex. They fuck and rut and thrust and moan and choke and suck like animals, like instinctive creatures with no intelligence, with no feeling or memory. It’s angry and biting and hot-furious and fierce-so hot-and Yoseob doesn’t mind that Doojoon flips him over and over again and goes on and on even after Yoseob is far gone and spent and sated. Doojoon needs this and Yoseob is fine with that.
He’s fine with that because afterward, when they are lying limp and boneless and unmoving in bed, too exhausted to even pull the sheets over themselves, Doojoon is always the first to get up. The captain always gets up before Yoseob can even gather enough strength or coherency to remember his own name-he gets up and disappears, bringing back water bottles and food and apologies that aren’t even necessary because they don’t even make sense.
“You’re stupid,” Yoseob says, as they link fingers. He sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard, and watching Doojoon’s bent back as the captain sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and takes the bottle of water in Doojoon’s lap and takes a few sips.
“I’m sorry,” Doojoon repeats quietly. Again. For like-the fifth time.
The older boy’s hand tightens around Yoseob’s.
“You’re so stupid,” Yoseob says, and gets up onto his knees, shuffling forward and wrapping his arms around Doojoon’s shoulders, his chest pressed against the captain’s back. “You’re so stupid, and that’s why tomorrow we’re going together to talk to Hyori-noona and make her scare Hwang-seonsangnim into not being a bitch and giving a retake.”
“Okay,” Doojoon says, still quiet.
Yoseob sucks air into his cheeks and yanks backward with his arms, making Doojoon topple back onto the bed, feet still planted on the ground. Doojoon blinks in mild surprise up at the younger boy. “Yah,” Yoseob says, glaring slightly, “stop being depressing. There’s no point in having amazing angry sex if you’re still going to be depressing afterward.”
Doojoon blinks again. “It was good?”
Yoseob shrugs. “I mean-personally, I thought it was kind of mind-blowing.”
A tiny smile-playful and curious-creeps onto Doojoon’s face, and Yoseob leans down to kiss the half-curved lips. “You have the weirdest kinks,” the captain says and reaches up to ruffle Yoseob’s hair-which doesn’t really do much considering Yoseob’s already suffering a terrible case of just-fucked-hard hair.
“I’ll remember this the next time you tell me to put on a skirt,” Yoseob says dryly, and Doojoon smacks his shoulder lightly.
The older boy sits up then and turns around, one hand coming to hold the side of Yoseob’s face, thumb tracing over the goalie’s lips and cheek. “You’re okay then?” Doojoon asks, eyebrows furrowing a little as his gaze roams over Yoseob’s body, searching and concerned.
Yoseob throws himself onto his back, spread-eagle, dramatically. “I’m devastated, hyung,” he says playfully. “You just ravished me that fucking hard and now I won’t be able to walk for weeks.”
“Yah,” Doojoon says, “that’s not funny, Yoseob-ah.” But his grin matches Yoseob’s. “So I guess there’s nothing for it, then, if you can’t walk.” He stands up, still gloriously naked, skin somewhat shining from leftover perspiration, and turns to face away from Yoseob.
The goalie grins and stands up on the bed, wrapping his arms around Doojoon’s neck and hoisting his legs on either side of Doojoon’s waist. The captain’s arms come beneath Yoseob’s knees, holding him securely to the older boy’s back. “You’re just doing this because you like feeling my dick on you,” Yoseob smiles, cheek against the nape of Doojoon’s neck.
“Nah,” Doojoon says, covering the distance towards the adjacent bathroom, “I’m just your personal slave, that’s all.”
They reach the bathroom and Doojoon carefully lets Yoseob down to sit on the marble countertop, legs dangling and hand against the edge of the sink. Doojoon flicks on the lights and starts the water of the shower running to warm up. “Then I guess,” Yoseob says, and Doojoon turns his head from getting towels ready, “that as my personal slave, you’re going to wash me up, too?”
Doojoon puts the towels at the edge of the bathtub and comes to stand against the countertop-between Yoseob’s spread legs. The captain has his hands on Yoseob’s pale thighs, creeping upward to his waist-infinitely gentler than his bruise-tight grip just an hour ago. “Every inch of you,” Doojoon says with a grin.