fic dump #3
weeding out my gdocs/word doc; i'm not sure what will happen to them but some of these have been sitting in my gdocs since /june/.
o1. lu han/sehun; pick-up lines
“You’re looking at the new kid like he’s a new treat in the bakery you always go to,” Jongin whispers to Sehun in the middle of class, causing the latter to jump up in his seat, knee knocking painfully against the table, “a treat you want to devour.”
Sehun turns to glare at Jongin as the rest of the class turns to look at him, amusement clear in their eyes. The new kid turns to look at him too, and Sehun can almost feel his gaze on the back of his neck.
“What are you talking about,” he says through gritted teeth, and Jongin pats him on the back, eyes twinkling with mock concern.
“I’m sorry, would you rather he consumes you instead?”
Sehun does a literal head to desk action.
o2. jongin/kyungsoo; the tinkerbell complex
Jongin doesn’t get drunk. Jongin getting drunk would defeat the purpose of him being Kim Jongin.
Sure he might have had a shot (or more) too many, and maybe mixing all that beer with vodka hadn’t been the best of ideas; but it really wasn’t his fault that all that alcohol had just been there and that he has had a terrible week.
He doesn’t know exactly how he ended up in this empty field, grass cold against his bare feet. His new shoes are too tight, and they had rubbed against his little toes, almost sanding them raw, so he had took them off. He shrugs out of his jacket and leaves that in a pile under a tree, and the cool night breeze is a blessing on his heated skin.
He sips from the cup in his hand, a mix of vodka with some soft drink that leaves a taste in his mouth that smells like his mother’s nail polish. It makes him gag a little, and he stumbles as he regains his balance.
A friend had told him once, amidst copious amount of alcohol, that when shit happens, it happens all at a go. At this point of his life, Jongin was more than happy to agree.
There is a shrub, a ring of tangled plants that sits in the middle of the field, and it looks like the perfect resting spot in his drunken haze. What he did not expect was the light that shot out from it just as he reaches it, and he shrieks as he falls on the floor.
Okay, maybe he was edging on drunk, after all, he had just hallucinated phantom lights, but he was not that hammered yet.
There is a man lying in the shrub, and Jongin decides that it must be the man’s phone that had caused the lights. The man is rubbing at his forehead in circles, eyebrows furrowed.
o3. kai/?; let's pretend it's love
He's not Jongin here, pressed against the sweaty bodies of others in this dark room, illuminated only by tacky neon lights. He's not Jongin when he presses his hips flush against the back of the person near him and allows their whimper to travel under his skin like a disease. He's not Jongin when there is a tongue that is not his in his mouth or when there are fingers warm on his neck, almost like a brand as they sear into every pore on his skin. He's not Jongin.
Instead, he is Kai. He is Kai, the pretty boy with too much eyeliner and glitter around his eyes who wears the tightest fuck-me jeans and the loosest smile on his face. He is Kai, the toned body that slinkers up to people with a glint in his eyes and from his teeth. He is the beautiful, gorgeous, desirable boy that everyone wants to fuck or vice versa. He thinks he might even be invincible.
Kai laughs, bright and easy, when he feels foreign hands creep under the too-tight hem of his shirt and crawl upwards. He easily grips forearms and pulls the invading hands away from his skin.
"I don't like surprises," he mouths against the ear of the owner of the hands, "besides, you're not my type." He thinks he sees red crawl up the person's neck even under the dim glow of artificial lights. The person turns and pushes out of the crowd; Kai winds himself around another guy.
(Truth be told no one is really his type; not when they are not him, not when they lack his eyes his mouth his ears.)
o4. baekhyun/zitao; olympics village
Baekhyun has heard stories about the Olympics Village; stories of debauchery and public sex, of athletics fucking each other silly on the rooftop in broad daylight. His friend, fellow diver and veteran Kim Minseok had called the village a non-stop fuckfest. Baekhyun smiles at that thought, because he really wants to get some action.
It helps that he has a sort of advantage over some of the other athletics. He is young, reasonably attractive and fit as hell. He is pretty such he is going to be able to score a few times.
So it is really just his luck that after his preliminary round (which he had gone through without any effort), he walks past his neighbour’s door to hear crying. Everyone else gets fuck buddies; Byun Baekhyun gets a crier. Figures.
o5. jongin/sehun; kitchen sex (bottom!jongin)
“You look so gorgeous like this, Jongin, bent over and all open for me, just for me, and you’ll remember this for days, won’t you? When you shower you will press your fingers against the bruises the table edge is marring into your skin, remember the way I’m going to fuck you, while you just take it all, so prettily.”
“Jesus, can you just fuck me already,” Jongin groans, impatient. Sehun can’t help but smile against the tip of Jongin’s ear.
“So eager, always so eager for my cock, aren’t you?” and Sehun is always surprised when things like that slip out of his mouth without much thought. He had never peg himself as one capable of dirty talking, especially since the first time he had accidentally stumbled upon pornography featuring it, it had caused red to bloom on his cheeks as he blushed.
But there’s something about taking Jongin down a notch (or many) that appeals to him, and things like do you want my finger in you, Jongin? or you would let me come down your throat wouldn’t you? escape him without much thought. It helps that Jongin becomes a mess when he does it, all needy sounds and shivers that tremble just beneath his skin.
also if anyone so desires: http://ask.fm/fabricate
o1. lu han/sehun; pick-up lines
“You’re looking at the new kid like he’s a new treat in the bakery you always go to,” Jongin whispers to Sehun in the middle of class, causing the latter to jump up in his seat, knee knocking painfully against the table, “a treat you want to devour.”
Sehun turns to glare at Jongin as the rest of the class turns to look at him, amusement clear in their eyes. The new kid turns to look at him too, and Sehun can almost feel his gaze on the back of his neck.
“What are you talking about,” he says through gritted teeth, and Jongin pats him on the back, eyes twinkling with mock concern.
“I’m sorry, would you rather he consumes you instead?”
Sehun does a literal head to desk action.
o2. jongin/kyungsoo; the tinkerbell complex
Jongin doesn’t get drunk. Jongin getting drunk would defeat the purpose of him being Kim Jongin.
Sure he might have had a shot (or more) too many, and maybe mixing all that beer with vodka hadn’t been the best of ideas; but it really wasn’t his fault that all that alcohol had just been there and that he has had a terrible week.
He doesn’t know exactly how he ended up in this empty field, grass cold against his bare feet. His new shoes are too tight, and they had rubbed against his little toes, almost sanding them raw, so he had took them off. He shrugs out of his jacket and leaves that in a pile under a tree, and the cool night breeze is a blessing on his heated skin.
He sips from the cup in his hand, a mix of vodka with some soft drink that leaves a taste in his mouth that smells like his mother’s nail polish. It makes him gag a little, and he stumbles as he regains his balance.
A friend had told him once, amidst copious amount of alcohol, that when shit happens, it happens all at a go. At this point of his life, Jongin was more than happy to agree.
There is a shrub, a ring of tangled plants that sits in the middle of the field, and it looks like the perfect resting spot in his drunken haze. What he did not expect was the light that shot out from it just as he reaches it, and he shrieks as he falls on the floor.
Okay, maybe he was edging on drunk, after all, he had just hallucinated phantom lights, but he was not that hammered yet.
There is a man lying in the shrub, and Jongin decides that it must be the man’s phone that had caused the lights. The man is rubbing at his forehead in circles, eyebrows furrowed.
o3. kai/?; let's pretend it's love
He's not Jongin here, pressed against the sweaty bodies of others in this dark room, illuminated only by tacky neon lights. He's not Jongin when he presses his hips flush against the back of the person near him and allows their whimper to travel under his skin like a disease. He's not Jongin when there is a tongue that is not his in his mouth or when there are fingers warm on his neck, almost like a brand as they sear into every pore on his skin. He's not Jongin.
Instead, he is Kai. He is Kai, the pretty boy with too much eyeliner and glitter around his eyes who wears the tightest fuck-me jeans and the loosest smile on his face. He is Kai, the toned body that slinkers up to people with a glint in his eyes and from his teeth. He is the beautiful, gorgeous, desirable boy that everyone wants to fuck or vice versa. He thinks he might even be invincible.
Kai laughs, bright and easy, when he feels foreign hands creep under the too-tight hem of his shirt and crawl upwards. He easily grips forearms and pulls the invading hands away from his skin.
"I don't like surprises," he mouths against the ear of the owner of the hands, "besides, you're not my type." He thinks he sees red crawl up the person's neck even under the dim glow of artificial lights. The person turns and pushes out of the crowd; Kai winds himself around another guy.
(Truth be told no one is really his type; not when they are not him, not when they lack his eyes his mouth his ears.)
o4. baekhyun/zitao; olympics village
Baekhyun has heard stories about the Olympics Village; stories of debauchery and public sex, of athletics fucking each other silly on the rooftop in broad daylight. His friend, fellow diver and veteran Kim Minseok had called the village a non-stop fuckfest. Baekhyun smiles at that thought, because he really wants to get some action.
It helps that he has a sort of advantage over some of the other athletics. He is young, reasonably attractive and fit as hell. He is pretty such he is going to be able to score a few times.
So it is really just his luck that after his preliminary round (which he had gone through without any effort), he walks past his neighbour’s door to hear crying. Everyone else gets fuck buddies; Byun Baekhyun gets a crier. Figures.
o5. jongin/sehun; kitchen sex (bottom!jongin)
“You look so gorgeous like this, Jongin, bent over and all open for me, just for me, and you’ll remember this for days, won’t you? When you shower you will press your fingers against the bruises the table edge is marring into your skin, remember the way I’m going to fuck you, while you just take it all, so prettily.”
“Jesus, can you just fuck me already,” Jongin groans, impatient. Sehun can’t help but smile against the tip of Jongin’s ear.
“So eager, always so eager for my cock, aren’t you?” and Sehun is always surprised when things like that slip out of his mouth without much thought. He had never peg himself as one capable of dirty talking, especially since the first time he had accidentally stumbled upon pornography featuring it, it had caused red to bloom on his cheeks as he blushed.
But there’s something about taking Jongin down a notch (or many) that appeals to him, and things like do you want my finger in you, Jongin? or you would let me come down your throat wouldn’t you? escape him without much thought. It helps that Jongin becomes a mess when he does it, all needy sounds and shivers that tremble just beneath his skin.
also if anyone so desires: http://ask.fm/fabricate