Rarepair Anonymeme Drabbles - Various - NC17
Author: anamuan
Rating: sex, baby.
A/N: I am hiatus liek woah. Ok, so really. These are all from the Rarepair Fic/Smut Anonymeme (masterminded by agirlcalledkil and jackoweskla), but this time sans typos. Um, hopefully. Self-beta, so point things out, please. Reveals are here, and organized by page for easy navigation. Check them out.
Jin/Kimutaku (Jin/Jin) | Yamapi/Abiru Yuu/Jin | Yamapi/An-An model
Word Count: 320
Extra notes: This one makes me feel vaguely dirty. I don't know why.
Pairing:Jin/Kimutaku (Jin/Jin)
Jin doesn't own up to it openly, but Kimura Takuya is the sempai Jin looks up to the most. He's got this element of sexy showmanship that Jin wants to emulate. Emulate, right. That's why he's got his pants kicked off and a hand wrapped around his erection, pulling up in long, firm strokes, thinking about Kimura-sempai; he admires Kimura Takuya and wants to emulate him. He doesn't want to fuck him. No, he gasps and slides his hand a little faster, this is just your run-of-the-mill admiration for a respected sempai. Right.
He doesn't want Kimura-sempai to fuck him, oh no, and just the thought doesn't make him impossibly harder. Jin tries to imagine the burn of being pushed into by Kimura Takuya but finds it isn't enough just like that. He sucks the first two fingers of his free hand into his mouth, fast and wet, intent on gratification rather than seduction.
He hooks a leg over the back of the couch, spreading himself out, and pushes a finger into himself. It hurts a little, not quite as slick as he'd like it; but then his imagination takes over, and the thought of Kimura-sempai leaning over him, arms braced on either side of his body, pushing in, in, in, a slow, relentless burn, and that's good enough. He pulls on his cock harder, faster, feeling the rush starting at the base, telling him he's close. Just. A. Little. Further.
He forces his way in deeper, the angle a little awkward, breathing dirty things--things he wants to be able to say, things he wishes Kimura-sempai were whispering into his ear--so close, almost there. And then--finally--his finger brushes against his prostate, and he rolls his hips back down onto it, then up into his hand, again and again, voice catching in his throat, lips forming Kimura Takuya's name as he rides out the wave of his orgasm.
Word Count: 805
Extra notes: It was supposed to be at a Masquerade ball, but I'm blind and didn't see that bit of the request, so it's not.
Pairing:Yamapi/Abiru Yuu/Jin
Yamapi likes Yuu-chan's legs. He thinks they're perfect, not stick-skinny like so many girls these days. He likes that layer of fat, and the way the tops of her thighs rub together just barely (damn sexy). He likes to bite her there just before going down on her, likes the way it makes her moan. He likes the way his hands look digging into the flesh just above her knees, spreading her legs apart.
Jin likes how dark her eyes are (full of promise), and how full her lips are (thinks about how they'd look wrapped around his cock, perfect lip gloss smearing perfectly), but he doesn't tell Pi that because Pi's kind of the jealous type. Sometimes lately when he calls, Abiru Yuu answers Pi's phone and sometimes when she answers, she's got this kind of breathless hitch in her voice and then Pi takes the phone and says he'll call Jin back later, something dark and indescribable in his own voice that means sex. Sometimes when that happens, Jin can't get the image of Pi and Abiru having sex out of his head for hours. He doesn't tell Pi about that either.
Jin doesn't mean to walk in on them. And he certainly doesn't mean to do it in such an obvious fashion so that he can't (watch) sneak back out again once he realizes what's going on. Pi's spread out across the floor, one hand clutching her thigh and the other creeping up to her breasts. Abiru's got her back to Jin, on top of Pi, long hair loose, head thrown back, eyes closed, and riding him for all she's worth. Pi sees Jin the moment he walks in, and Jin freezes in the doorway, pinned there by the dark look in Pi's eyes.
Pi's hips stop moving for a moment, but Abiru doesn't stop (doesn't know he's there); if anything, she only moves faster, rolls her hips down harder, blindly chasing release. And then Pi seems to come to a decision (eyes going impossibly darker), and lifts his chin sharply--Come here--in invitation. Jin moves into the room on jerky legs and can't really believe he's really doing it. He drops to his knees between Pi's spread legs behind Abiru, and slides unsure hands around her waist, up her ribcage to cup her breasts from behind. She jumps at the unexpected contact and tenses, and Pi groans and rolls his hips up very deliberately, resetting the tempo.
Yuu-chan doesn't take much convincing--it's not hard to talk her into much when she's this keyed up, this close. Yamapi'd never been absolutely crazy over her breasts (they were a little small. Really nice, but small), but with Jin's hands on them, playing over the flesh, rolling a nipple between his fingers--Yamapi never wants to forget what that looks like. Jin gets more confident, pressing closer behind Yuu-chan, and judging by the way she starts rocking backward and rolling down, she's enjoying helping Jin enjoy the moment. Yamapi watches as Jin slides a hand down Yuu-chan's stomach, and he can feel his mouth going dryer the lower Jin goes; he pushes up harder in response and Yuu-chan starts moaning, short staccato sounds of pleasure. Jin's hand arrives at its destination, thumb rubbing against her clit and Yamapi can feel Jin's fingers brushing against him where he and Yuu-chan are joined. Yuu-chan grabs Yamapi's hand and yanks it up to her breast, her other arm reaching back over her head; her rhythm breaks then, as she rides her way to orgasm, not quite screaming, her hand tangled firmly in Jin's hair.
She tightens around Yamapi, and he can feel the way Jin's thrusting by the way her body's rocking, and he can still feel Jin's fingers pressing against him where he's slipping in and out of her, and as his orgasm hits him, he wishes desperately that he could see Jin's face better.
Pi throws his head back when he comes, the hand on Abiru's thigh going white and tight with pleasure. Yuu-chan pulls off Pi after that, leaving him to catch his breath as she turns to Jin. Jin half wonders if he's going to get to see if her lips will really look as good as he thinks they would wrapped around his cock, and half wonders what Pi would look like there and is a little worried about what that means. But then she's got him out of his pants and pushed halfway onto his back and is tracing perfectly manicured nails up his length. And then Pi's behind her, turning her head to catch it in an open, messy kiss, and his hand's joined Yuu-chan's on Jin's cock, following her teasing touches with firmer strokes. And that's all Jin can take, groaning as he comes over their hands.
Word Count: 952
Extra notes: Situation: Duh. Props if it involves Yamapi cheating on his girl/boyfriend.
Pairing:Yamapi/An-An model
"You're not very good at this, are you. I thought you were some kind of industry hotshot." Her Japanese comes out a little stilted and with a thick Ukranian accent, but the idea's still there. Yamapi grimaces; he knows he's not at the top of his game today, but it's still a blow to his ego to hear the pretty, mostly naked model he's working with say as much. He still feels awkward standing there in the light robe the staff put out for between takes. She, on the other hand, is standing there examining her nails disdainfully, topless and totally unconcerned. Yamapi shifts uncomfortably. This isn't turning into his best day ever.
She looks up at him then, suddenly, a weird expression that seems to be a combination of a challenge and a sneer on her face, and that stirs something in Yamapi. He wants to show her what he can really do, prove her wrong. She smiles then--smirks really--part triumphant, part pleased and shrugs into her own robe and belts it loosely around her tiny waist. Yamapi is a little grateful that it covers her breasts (full and puckered from the chilly set and all too alluring), and her long, lean legs (which seem to go on forever, a staircase to heaven).
"Yamashita-san. I had a question. Do you have a minute?" She addresses Yamapi, but she's asking the photographer. He doesn't even look up from where he's pouring over prints from earlier and muttering to himself when he waves them off. Judging from his expression, the photographer isn't exactly pleased with the way the shoot is turning out, so Yamapi takes the opportunity to escape, and follows her out into the hallway.
Once they're there, though, Yamapi's not sure he didn't jump out of the pot into the fire. Her tongue was sharp enough surrounded by all the staff; he didn't want to think about what she could possibly have to say that was too harsh for the staff's delicate ears.
"Yamashita-san," she says again, and he's just turning to face her when she's pushing him back, forcing him to take a seat on a box Yamapi hadn't seen, half hidden by another stack of disassembled pieces of set. She's edged in between his knees with her hips, leaning--looming if she weren't so slight--over him with her superior height. She doesn't waste any time in cupping him through the thin material of the robe, rubbing light, maddening circles through the cloth.
"Yamashita-san. I am sure that a professional of your caliber can do better than that." She doesn't phrase it quite right, the Japanese is a little off, but she accompanies her words with more pressure and, as he raises his hands to cup her breasts through the cotton, Yamapi decides that now is not really the time for a grammar lesson.
She leans in then, but Yamapi twists his head, goes for her ear and she gasps lightly into his hair. She wasn't expecting that one, Yamapi thinks to himself smugly, and starts moving down her long neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses all along the skin. She retaliates by snaking a hand in the front of his robe to really grab him, skin on too-hot skin. Yamapi peels the collar of her robe back, pulls one side down off her shoulder, licks a line down across her collarbone and holds her right breast up to suck the nipple into his mouth. He kneads the other in his palm, and she pulls on him harder, so that he hisses air out across wet, sensitive skin.
She pulls back for a moment then--half-exposed breasts heaving in a way that make Yamapi’s hands twitch--and seemingly from nowhere, she produces a condom and tears the foil wrapper open. She rolls the condom down over him easily, hand lingering in all the right places in the process, and then climbs onto his lap. She hovers like that for a moment as Yamapi's hands slide down to hold her waist, knees spread out on either side of his hips, his cock in her hand, positioning it, or herself, or maybe just being a tease because she knows she has him--
And then she pushes down, slowly, ever so slowly, but steadily, never pausing, just constant, tight, heat opening for him. His eyes are locked on the sight of him sliding into her. His fingers dig into her hips, trying to find steadiness in the bones there, while his breath escapes between clenched teeth. When she's finally seated all the way on him, she sucks in a shaky breath or two of her own, and then rolls her hips in a tiny, experimental circle.
She tries another one, a little bigger, and then another, a little bolder, and then Yamapi thrusts up to meet her. She gasps then, and arches her back, and rolls down again harder. And then again, harder, picking up speed as she goes, Yamapi meeting her thrust for thrust.
Yamapi couldn't wrap his mouth around all the foreign syllables in her name, so he settles for telling her how good she feels instead. He's speaking low and fast, and isn't sure she understands the actual words, but she seems to share the sentiment, judging by the way she's clawing desperately across his shoulder blades. And then her whole body tenses, back arching, head thrown back, tightening almost-painfully around him while Yamapi thrusts up two, three, four more frenzied times.
Yamapi gasps out the wrong name when he comes--or the right name, but with the wrong person--but, panting against his shoulder, she doesn't seem to care. Yamapi knows someone who would. If he ever finds out.
Rating: sex, baby.
A/N: I am hiatus liek woah. Ok, so really. These are all from the Rarepair Fic/Smut Anonymeme (masterminded by agirlcalledkil and jackoweskla), but this time sans typos. Um, hopefully. Self-beta, so point things out, please. Reveals are here, and organized by page for easy navigation. Check them out.
Jin/Kimutaku (Jin/Jin) | Yamapi/Abiru Yuu/Jin | Yamapi/An-An model
Word Count: 320
Extra notes: This one makes me feel vaguely dirty. I don't know why.
Pairing:Jin/Kimutaku (Jin/Jin)
Jin doesn't own up to it openly, but Kimura Takuya is the sempai Jin looks up to the most. He's got this element of sexy showmanship that Jin wants to emulate. Emulate, right. That's why he's got his pants kicked off and a hand wrapped around his erection, pulling up in long, firm strokes, thinking about Kimura-sempai; he admires Kimura Takuya and wants to emulate him. He doesn't want to fuck him. No, he gasps and slides his hand a little faster, this is just your run-of-the-mill admiration for a respected sempai. Right.
He doesn't want Kimura-sempai to fuck him, oh no, and just the thought doesn't make him impossibly harder. Jin tries to imagine the burn of being pushed into by Kimura Takuya but finds it isn't enough just like that. He sucks the first two fingers of his free hand into his mouth, fast and wet, intent on gratification rather than seduction.
He hooks a leg over the back of the couch, spreading himself out, and pushes a finger into himself. It hurts a little, not quite as slick as he'd like it; but then his imagination takes over, and the thought of Kimura-sempai leaning over him, arms braced on either side of his body, pushing in, in, in, a slow, relentless burn, and that's good enough. He pulls on his cock harder, faster, feeling the rush starting at the base, telling him he's close. Just. A. Little. Further.
He forces his way in deeper, the angle a little awkward, breathing dirty things--things he wants to be able to say, things he wishes Kimura-sempai were whispering into his ear--so close, almost there. And then--finally--his finger brushes against his prostate, and he rolls his hips back down onto it, then up into his hand, again and again, voice catching in his throat, lips forming Kimura Takuya's name as he rides out the wave of his orgasm.
Word Count: 805
Extra notes: It was supposed to be at a Masquerade ball, but I'm blind and didn't see that bit of the request, so it's not.
Pairing:Yamapi/Abiru Yuu/Jin
Yamapi likes Yuu-chan's legs. He thinks they're perfect, not stick-skinny like so many girls these days. He likes that layer of fat, and the way the tops of her thighs rub together just barely (damn sexy). He likes to bite her there just before going down on her, likes the way it makes her moan. He likes the way his hands look digging into the flesh just above her knees, spreading her legs apart.
Jin likes how dark her eyes are (full of promise), and how full her lips are (thinks about how they'd look wrapped around his cock, perfect lip gloss smearing perfectly), but he doesn't tell Pi that because Pi's kind of the jealous type. Sometimes lately when he calls, Abiru Yuu answers Pi's phone and sometimes when she answers, she's got this kind of breathless hitch in her voice and then Pi takes the phone and says he'll call Jin back later, something dark and indescribable in his own voice that means sex. Sometimes when that happens, Jin can't get the image of Pi and Abiru having sex out of his head for hours. He doesn't tell Pi about that either.
Jin doesn't mean to walk in on them. And he certainly doesn't mean to do it in such an obvious fashion so that he can't (watch) sneak back out again once he realizes what's going on. Pi's spread out across the floor, one hand clutching her thigh and the other creeping up to her breasts. Abiru's got her back to Jin, on top of Pi, long hair loose, head thrown back, eyes closed, and riding him for all she's worth. Pi sees Jin the moment he walks in, and Jin freezes in the doorway, pinned there by the dark look in Pi's eyes.
Pi's hips stop moving for a moment, but Abiru doesn't stop (doesn't know he's there); if anything, she only moves faster, rolls her hips down harder, blindly chasing release. And then Pi seems to come to a decision (eyes going impossibly darker), and lifts his chin sharply--Come here--in invitation. Jin moves into the room on jerky legs and can't really believe he's really doing it. He drops to his knees between Pi's spread legs behind Abiru, and slides unsure hands around her waist, up her ribcage to cup her breasts from behind. She jumps at the unexpected contact and tenses, and Pi groans and rolls his hips up very deliberately, resetting the tempo.
Yuu-chan doesn't take much convincing--it's not hard to talk her into much when she's this keyed up, this close. Yamapi'd never been absolutely crazy over her breasts (they were a little small. Really nice, but small), but with Jin's hands on them, playing over the flesh, rolling a nipple between his fingers--Yamapi never wants to forget what that looks like. Jin gets more confident, pressing closer behind Yuu-chan, and judging by the way she starts rocking backward and rolling down, she's enjoying helping Jin enjoy the moment. Yamapi watches as Jin slides a hand down Yuu-chan's stomach, and he can feel his mouth going dryer the lower Jin goes; he pushes up harder in response and Yuu-chan starts moaning, short staccato sounds of pleasure. Jin's hand arrives at its destination, thumb rubbing against her clit and Yamapi can feel Jin's fingers brushing against him where he and Yuu-chan are joined. Yuu-chan grabs Yamapi's hand and yanks it up to her breast, her other arm reaching back over her head; her rhythm breaks then, as she rides her way to orgasm, not quite screaming, her hand tangled firmly in Jin's hair.
She tightens around Yamapi, and he can feel the way Jin's thrusting by the way her body's rocking, and he can still feel Jin's fingers pressing against him where he's slipping in and out of her, and as his orgasm hits him, he wishes desperately that he could see Jin's face better.
Pi throws his head back when he comes, the hand on Abiru's thigh going white and tight with pleasure. Yuu-chan pulls off Pi after that, leaving him to catch his breath as she turns to Jin. Jin half wonders if he's going to get to see if her lips will really look as good as he thinks they would wrapped around his cock, and half wonders what Pi would look like there and is a little worried about what that means. But then she's got him out of his pants and pushed halfway onto his back and is tracing perfectly manicured nails up his length. And then Pi's behind her, turning her head to catch it in an open, messy kiss, and his hand's joined Yuu-chan's on Jin's cock, following her teasing touches with firmer strokes. And that's all Jin can take, groaning as he comes over their hands.
Word Count: 952
Extra notes: Situation: Duh. Props if it involves Yamapi cheating on his girl/boyfriend.
Pairing:Yamapi/An-An model
"You're not very good at this, are you. I thought you were some kind of industry hotshot." Her Japanese comes out a little stilted and with a thick Ukranian accent, but the idea's still there. Yamapi grimaces; he knows he's not at the top of his game today, but it's still a blow to his ego to hear the pretty, mostly naked model he's working with say as much. He still feels awkward standing there in the light robe the staff put out for between takes. She, on the other hand, is standing there examining her nails disdainfully, topless and totally unconcerned. Yamapi shifts uncomfortably. This isn't turning into his best day ever.
She looks up at him then, suddenly, a weird expression that seems to be a combination of a challenge and a sneer on her face, and that stirs something in Yamapi. He wants to show her what he can really do, prove her wrong. She smiles then--smirks really--part triumphant, part pleased and shrugs into her own robe and belts it loosely around her tiny waist. Yamapi is a little grateful that it covers her breasts (full and puckered from the chilly set and all too alluring), and her long, lean legs (which seem to go on forever, a staircase to heaven).
"Yamashita-san. I had a question. Do you have a minute?" She addresses Yamapi, but she's asking the photographer. He doesn't even look up from where he's pouring over prints from earlier and muttering to himself when he waves them off. Judging from his expression, the photographer isn't exactly pleased with the way the shoot is turning out, so Yamapi takes the opportunity to escape, and follows her out into the hallway.
Once they're there, though, Yamapi's not sure he didn't jump out of the pot into the fire. Her tongue was sharp enough surrounded by all the staff; he didn't want to think about what she could possibly have to say that was too harsh for the staff's delicate ears.
"Yamashita-san," she says again, and he's just turning to face her when she's pushing him back, forcing him to take a seat on a box Yamapi hadn't seen, half hidden by another stack of disassembled pieces of set. She's edged in between his knees with her hips, leaning--looming if she weren't so slight--over him with her superior height. She doesn't waste any time in cupping him through the thin material of the robe, rubbing light, maddening circles through the cloth.
"Yamashita-san. I am sure that a professional of your caliber can do better than that." She doesn't phrase it quite right, the Japanese is a little off, but she accompanies her words with more pressure and, as he raises his hands to cup her breasts through the cotton, Yamapi decides that now is not really the time for a grammar lesson.
She leans in then, but Yamapi twists his head, goes for her ear and she gasps lightly into his hair. She wasn't expecting that one, Yamapi thinks to himself smugly, and starts moving down her long neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses all along the skin. She retaliates by snaking a hand in the front of his robe to really grab him, skin on too-hot skin. Yamapi peels the collar of her robe back, pulls one side down off her shoulder, licks a line down across her collarbone and holds her right breast up to suck the nipple into his mouth. He kneads the other in his palm, and she pulls on him harder, so that he hisses air out across wet, sensitive skin.
She pulls back for a moment then--half-exposed breasts heaving in a way that make Yamapi’s hands twitch--and seemingly from nowhere, she produces a condom and tears the foil wrapper open. She rolls the condom down over him easily, hand lingering in all the right places in the process, and then climbs onto his lap. She hovers like that for a moment as Yamapi's hands slide down to hold her waist, knees spread out on either side of his hips, his cock in her hand, positioning it, or herself, or maybe just being a tease because she knows she has him--
And then she pushes down, slowly, ever so slowly, but steadily, never pausing, just constant, tight, heat opening for him. His eyes are locked on the sight of him sliding into her. His fingers dig into her hips, trying to find steadiness in the bones there, while his breath escapes between clenched teeth. When she's finally seated all the way on him, she sucks in a shaky breath or two of her own, and then rolls her hips in a tiny, experimental circle.
She tries another one, a little bigger, and then another, a little bolder, and then Yamapi thrusts up to meet her. She gasps then, and arches her back, and rolls down again harder. And then again, harder, picking up speed as she goes, Yamapi meeting her thrust for thrust.
Yamapi couldn't wrap his mouth around all the foreign syllables in her name, so he settles for telling her how good she feels instead. He's speaking low and fast, and isn't sure she understands the actual words, but she seems to share the sentiment, judging by the way she's clawing desperately across his shoulder blades. And then her whole body tenses, back arching, head thrown back, tightening almost-painfully around him while Yamapi thrusts up two, three, four more frenzied times.
Yamapi gasps out the wrong name when he comes--or the right name, but with the wrong person--but, panting against his shoulder, she doesn't seem to care. Yamapi knows someone who would. If he ever finds out.