vixerupper
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“Ah! Hyung!” Chenle shrieks, thrashing in Jeno’s vice-like embrace. Instead of stopping, the older man keeps torturing him with his fingers, prodding and digging into him, making him writhe helplessly. “Fuu-ngh! Sto-op!” Chenle will never admit the way his voice breaks at the end there.
Chenle and Jeno getting some physical activity done.
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It was supposed to be a game. A play made for two, a match with only one winner. It was supposed to be him, the victor. And he was.
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Chenle looks up into the whole body mirror. He rocks left and right, paying attention to the way the skirt sway with the movement. It feels very airy, as if he’s not wearing anything over his undergarment. He feels kind of exposed, but otherwise he likes it. It looks good. He looks good.
Chenle has been wondering how he'd look wearing short skirts without the safety of long pants to cover his legs. It unleashed a lot of things.
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"Dare."
“Chenle, I dare you to give your crush a call.”
or: how playing truth or dare at jaemin's birthday outed chenle's secret of crushing pathetically over his best friend
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“w-wait— jisung, i’m— ah.”
the rest of chenle’s words are swallowed in a filthy tongue to tongue. fresh tears come unbidden by the force of it, clumping the blades of his lashes into sharpness.
“i’m going to consume you,” jisung murmurs against his lips, the kiss forgotten for a short moment. instead, he grips a white, bare thigh, lifting it to circle around his hip.
....
jisung and chenle having fun on a friday night
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“Who,” Eurypon asked, his mind immediately going back to his son. He hoped Mydeimos had managed to escape from that pervert's clutches. Found some excuse to slip away. Gone to bed early or something. Really, anything would work.
He grimaced, his thoughts souring instantly as reality hit him.
His son didn't want to get away from that pervert. His son was probably with that pervert right now, doing gods knew what, completely by choice and his own free will.
Phainon and Mydei's relationship through (mostly) Eurypon's eyes throughout the years.
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“Look, this might sound a little strange… but could you hear me out for a moment?” Phainon asks, his tone hopeful.
Mydei supposes he signed himself to it. He gives a short nod. Phainon fidgets with the bandage between his fingers.
“I wanted today to be special.” He pauses, his shoulders dropping slightly. “There’s someone I’ve wanted to ask out for a long time.”
Oh, by Nikador balls. Mydei was really going to have to sit here and listen to Phainon gush about his undying crush on Cyrene, wasn’t he? He clenches his fists inside the costume, a wave of discomfort washing over him.
Mydei is working part-time as a mascot at the recently opened Chimera Park. While wearing his Fig Stew costume, he unexpectedly befriends a cheerful teenager, who happens to be both his classmate and his long-time secret crush for over two years, Phainon.
What could possibly go wrong?
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“I don’t need anything,” Mydei said, hands reaching up to poke around until they wrapped themselves around the taller’s cheeks and squished a bit. Perhaps the most unfortunate part of not being able to see was that he’d have to make up Phainon’s expressions in his head. He imagined the man looked like a dog at that moment, confused and actually pretty cute.
“Mydei?”
“Just,” Mydei uttered, “stay here for a moment. Until I can fall asleep.”
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(Mydei is temporarily blinded after a mission gone awry, and Phainon offers his home in abundance.)
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Atsumu, with his foxheart and fleet feet, runs along wolves.
One wolf in particular, that is.
Atsumu loves running with Kiyoomi at the Midnight Run, when hybrids transform under the moonlight and frolic, once a month. He loves hooking up with him afterwards, too, adrenaline pumping in their veins, his nose full of Kiyoomi's scent. And he loves Kiyoomi, even if he can't really admit it.
(He doesn't love that Kiyoomi always leaves, right after he wakes up.)
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“You’re warm too,” he adds, nuzzling a little like it’s instinct.
Kiyoomi is trying very hard not to combust. His brain is muddled and his heart is nearly thumping out of his chest. No one touches him like this—not even his own family. He’s used to formal bows, carefully averted gazes, the respectful distance afforded to someone of his station.
But this—this boy, this fox—acts like personal space doesn’t exist.
Kiyoomi finally finds his voice. “A-Atsumu.”
“Mm?”
“You’re… in my lap.”
Atsumu lifts his head slightly. His ears twitch. “So?”
Kiyoomi’s breath stutters. “People don’t usually…do this. Not without asking.”
“Oh.” Atsumu blinks. Then, with zero shame, he asks, “Can I sit in your lap?”
Kiyoomi’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “I… I guess it’s too late to say no.”
Atsumu grins, all sharp teeth and sunshine. “Good. I like it here.”
getting lost in the woods leads kiyoomi to atsumu