most superior fics i have read
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Tucking his boxers underneath his balls, Changbin rolls his cock between his fingers a few times. It’s soft and squishy and Jisung realizes he never had it in his mouth like this, always only hard and throbbing. Which is wonderful. But he kinds of wants to feel it this way on his tongue.
Pulling his foreskin back a little, Changbin coaxes himself into letting go. “It’s kinda hard when you’re staring like that,” he mutters, but Jisung is too gone in his zooted head to make sense of the words.
His eyes don’t stray away.
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“Yeah, yeah.” Felix grips the door frame, body still halfway into the hallway. “Can’t bother the RA too much. People will talk, won’t they?” Felix is joking. He’s definitely joking, a playful sort of banter that anyone would say, but Chan feels taken aback by it.
“Thank you for the job security,” Chan says emphatically, eyelids fluttering closed as he gives a dramatized press of his palm against his chest.
“Any time,” Felix says. He doesn’t move away from the door.
Chan does what his monkey-brain tells him to without thinking twice of it. “Do you want to come in? I’m not doing anything important.”
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pop quiz: they say you should never live with your best friend because you will
a) hate them
b) fall in love with them
c) hate yourself for falling in love with them.or: yoongi gets stabbed with a screwdriver, falls in love, and fake dates his best friend.
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“Han-ah, I think you’re presenting.” Changbin says, and Jisung’s whole world shifts. “You certainly smell like it.”
“What– what's it like?” Horribly, Jisung almost doesn’t want to know, suddenly afraid of Changbin’s disapproval, his disgust.
“Sweat.” Changbin answers immediately. “A little like sink water, but I think that’s part of it.”
“Sink water?” Jisung asks, miserably.
Changbin laughs, seemingly unfazed by Jisung’s life-defining moment.
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Jisung steals Changbin's perfume, laments feelings, and gets kisses. In that order.
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“Do you know how to swim Chan?”
Yeah, he’s got a box full of dozens of medals in silver and gold underneath his bed in his room back home in Sydney. Breast stroke, and butterfly, there’s nothing better than gliding weightless underneath the water, unable to hear or speak. “Yeah, I can.”
“Sounds like if you’re not careful, you could drown in this one. So you better swim real good.”
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Felix is pink hair, bags filled with cash and pills, chemistry degrees and late-night drives. Chan finds himself inconvenienced, then enamoured.
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1999 was one hell of a year.