crossposted to ao3 and tumblr.
i got the highest marks in my class for my english lit test \o/ what better way to celebrate than to write celebratory pwp stuff lmao shoot me. enjoy.
untitled #1 | jimin/jungkook | 590 words | ao3 | tumblr | underage
The tide licks at their toes. It makes Jimin giggle, and Jeongguk spread his feet further apart in the sand, pressing his heels back into the footprints that he’s left. The ocean is always pretty at night, especially when there’s nobody else around. Jeongguk curls his fingers into Jimin’s, tugs him over, and mouths a kiss into his neck. “Let’s play, hyung,” he says, and Jimin shoves him away playfully, but the spark that alights in his eyes is no joking glance.
Jeongguk knows they’re going to get into trouble for sneaking out on a weeknight, knows they’re going to get into trouble for even sneaking out at all, but the tang of salt down his lungs and the laughter that bubbles forth from Jimin’s lips makes it all worthwhile.
“It’s too fucking cold,” complains Jimin, but Jeongguk pushes him into the water anyway, twists his hands into Jimin’s tank top and drags him out to the point where the waves lick at their shoulders, but go no higher than their collars.
Their feet kick beneath them, trying to find stability in the water. Jeongguk tightens his grip on Jimin, and lets Jimin slide one hand into his hair, all wet and slicked up in the back. “Hyung,” he says, voice nearly swallowed by the rushing of the waves, “I want to kiss you.”
“Then do it,” says Jimin easily, the corners of his eyes crinkling, even as his hand falls from Jeongguk’s hair to curve along the line of his jaw, thumb flicking Jeongguk’s ear lightly. The moonlight reflects off Jimin’s wet hair, falling limply into his eyes, sticking to his skin.
Jeongguk surges forward and kisses him, digs his fingers into Jimin’s hips hard, pulls him forward and licks into the roof of his mouth, even as their hips roll together mindlessly, guided by the isochronous rotations of the water. Jimin kisses like he’s trying to stay afloat, as if he’s about to go under. Jeongguk kisses like all he wants to do is save him.
It only seems second nature to let their hands roam further, hidden from view by the reflection of the firmaments in the ripples below. Jimin’s palms ghost down Jeongguk’s shirt, riding up almost to his chest, fingertips tucking inside the hem of his basketball shorts. “Jeonggukie,” exhales Jimin, and Jeongguk sucks a kiss into the side of Jimin’s neck, forehead pressing against Jimin’s temple reflexively when Jimin’s thumb strokes a long line up the underside of Jeongguk’s cock.
The water makes everything smooth, almost frictionless, sweet fluidity in every movement. Jeongguk’s breath comes in soft, hard pants, his own hands still pressed into skin, one hand bruising Jimin’s hip, and the other threaded into the shoulder of Jimin’s top. More, Jeongguk attempts to say, but all that comes out is a high-pitched breath, a strange keening noise that sounds closer to the syllables of Jimin’s name rather than any other word.
He comes with his toes curling in, scraping along the side of Jimin’s calf, hips rolling up into Jimin’s grasp. Jimin kisses him through it, swallowing each breath that tumbles out from Jeongguk’s lips, pressing his palms against Jeongguk’s face. “Perfect,” murmurs Jimin, and it’s such a ridiculous notion. It’s perfectly Jimin, that’s what it is.
Jeongguk lets out the smallest of laughs, tugs at Jimin’s lower lip between his teeth, and knocks their noses together. “Hyung,” he says, curling their ankles together, letting the tide roll back in again, “I’d like to return the favour.”
Jimin smiles. “Then do it.”
untitled #2 | chen/d.o | 320 words
He loves this.
If there’s one thing he’s certain that he absolutely adores, it is the way Jongdae says his name when he presses him against the wall, pushes him back and kisses him until his knees go weak, fucks him until he can’t tell their voices apart anymore. Jongdae’s entire body shakes, his limbs almost giving out with the way Kyungsoo hooks his leg up over his hip and slams into him, one hand around Jongdae’s cock. Jongdae looks beautiful like this. Jongdae looks absolutely stunning. Kyungsoo loves Jongdae like this.
And Kyungsoo loves this.
He loves the way Jongdae’s fingernails scrape long, red marks up his skin, loves the way Jongdae tilts his head back against the wall, loves the way Jongdae wraps a leg around Kyungsoo’s hip and holds on for dear life. He loves the shudder that escapes Jongdae’s lips when he kisses Jongdae again, and again, and again, their tongues twisting together desperately, that tinge of surging desire keeping them in this paced dance, this dance that Kyungsoo takes the lead in, tonight.
“Please,” says Jongdae, breathless and needy, and all he wants is for Kyungsoo to drive in deeper, to fuck him so hard the neighbours bang on the wall and yell for them to keep the noise down, to just show him how much he loves him. “Kyungsoo, please.” Gorgeous, like this. Sweat soaking him to the bone, skin red and sensitive to the touch, overheating with every fleeting brush of Kyungsoo’s fingertips down his chest, his neck, the backs of his thighs.
Kyungsoo hushes him, and runs a palm down his front, pressing his mouth to Jongdae’s clavicle, sucking kisses into skin. He wants the marks to remain. He wants Jongdae to have the memory of his mouth on him, always. He wants—he wants Jongdae. That’s all he wants. And he will have him, in all the ways he knows best.
untitled #3 | j-hope/suga | 538 words | ao3 | tumblr
They don’t have much time. Hoseok’s feet are slipping on the wet tiles, but Yoongi catches onto his hip and presses him back against the wall of the shower cubicle, presses him back and bites at his lip. There’s the sound of a voice outside the door, but Hoseok fumbles behind them, turns the water up higher, and the pattering of their own rainstorm grows louder.
Yoongi runs his fingers back through Hoseok’s hair, softer, now that all the product’s been washed out. Hoseok has always had soft hair. Soft features, despite the angles. They have no time, no time at all, but Yoongi always wants to indulge. Yoongi kisses down the soft slope of Hoseok’s nose, kisses the soft curve of his neck, kisses the soft drop of his jaw to the base of his throat. Hoseok is so very soft, and so very pretty, but he is all hard lines where it counts, lines and angles and absolute fluidity.
Pretty, pretty Jung Hoseok. Yoongi wants to kiss him all over, kiss him everywhere. Hoseok leans into the way Yoongi mouths over his neck, contented sighing and breathy little exhales. Yoongi has always loved the way Hoseok responds to him, with every kiss, with every touch.
There’s shampoo in Hoseok’s hair and soap trickles down the back of Yoongi’s neck, but it doesn’t stop Yoongi from sliding down to his knees, it doesn’t stop Yoongi from locking his palms around Hoseok’s hips and murmuring for him to keep quiet.
Water drenches his vision. Hoseok in his own right looks a vision, thinks Yoongi. He’s never—he’s never been attracted to anyone this much before. It’s strange. Yoongi contemplates this even as he slides his mouth down onto Hoseok’s cock, and fits his fist around whatever he can’t take.
A hand holds tight in his hair. Yoongi glances up through watery lashes to see the Hoseok biting hard on the knuckles of his other, eyes fluttering with every lick that Yoongi presses into the underside of his cock, long slow drags of his lips that end with hard sucks, making Hoseok’s grip tighten, making Hoseok’s teeth grit harder, making Hoseok’s spine curve back against the wall.
Everything is wet, and loud, and hot. Yoongi hollows his cheeks around Hoseok’s cock and watches the way Hoseok’s mouth falls open in a soundless moan, grip faltering. Yoongi could watch him like this forever. Yoongi could just look at Hoseok forever. He wouldn’t be missing much else, to be honest. The entire world could be contained in Hoseok’s smile, and that would be all he needs. Pretty, pretty Jung Hoseok, and his pretty smile.
There is never enough time. Hoseok comes with his cock still in Yoongi’s mouth, knuckles bitten to the point of heavy bruises. Yoongi licks his lips and straightens back up, knees wobbly, hand reaching for the wall to push himself back up. The water is still running, and he’s sure that someone is knocking on the door outside, but what does Yoongi care.
Yoongi kisses Hoseok once more. Another, and another, and another, until he can no longer feel the drops of water that roll down his skin, until all he feels is Hoseok all around him.
untitled #4 | kris/baekhyun | 328 words
“Stay still,” orders Baekhyun, voice thick. His tone slips, pitching higher. “Ah—fuck.” Kris’ hands curl around Baekhyun’s hips, even as Baekhyun slowly slips down onto Kris’ cock. “Christ,” breathes Baekhyun, pausing to roll his hips experimentally, “need more lube.”
“Less talking,” huffs Kris, “more moving.”
Baekhyun pinches his thigh. “I’m doing all the work here, so shut up.” The sheets are sweat-slicked, slippery with lube, and all Baekhyun knows is the heat that pushes up into him when he lowers himself back down again, palms almost slipping, fingertips curling into the mattress. There’s a another pause, and Baekhyun’s knees slide apart slightly more, allowing him to sink down deeper, and there’s a choked moan that escapes both their throats when Baekhyun takes Kris in further. “Jesus.”
Tight, tight, tight heat. Baekhyun braces himself against Kris’ shoulders, and moves his hips just enough for it to really hit right, bottoming-out completely. His shoulders shake, his head dips, just for a moment, until he can gather his bearings again. It is slow movements, slow and steady and barely there moments that build up and build up and pool the warmth in Baekhyun’s gut.
Kris smooths his palms down Baekhyun’s thighs, and murmurs, “Come on. Faster, babe.”
“You said it first,” exhales Baekhyun, and he ups his pace, groaning hard everytime Kris rolls his hips back up against Baekhyun’s. It’s erratic and messy and all Baekhyun can do is ride him until his back is bent forward and sweat drips off his forehead, lips curling into loud cries. It’s fucking amazing. “Goddamn.”
There’s nothing better than this. This feeling. This amazing fucking feeling that feeds his energy and drives him on harder. There’s nothing better than seeing the look on Kris’ face when Baekhyun makes him feel like this, Baekhyun and no one else. There’s really nothing better than this.
There’s another inhaled sigh, and a pause, and a breath. “Come for me,” whispers Baekhyun, “yeah, that’s right. That's it."
the day i get a b or higher for econs is the day i write 10k of yoonseok fucking