Chapter Text
shse, jelly, 12
"You're like a jellyfish, Sieun-ah."
"What?" Sieun asks. He has tilted his head forward to look at Suho from where he's lying on his back, book held above his face. The angle makes his chin double and bunch up against his sternum. And he's still the cutest fucking thing Suho has ever seen.
Suho lets out an mhmph against Sieun's tummy. "All pretty and delicate looking, but deadly when you get close or touch."
Sieun sighs and goes back to his book. To the perceptive there can be detected a slight undercurrent of fondness. The perceptive being Suho, because he's practically a lifelong Sieun scientist at this point.
"You're so silly, Suho-yah."
"It's called R&D, Sieun-ah. R&D."
hwjh, milk, 23
Jihoon's mom had put the milk to boil exactly fifteen minutes ago before she left the house to walk Max.
Hyunwook had showed up five minutes later.
They had plans. A cozy dinner with Jihoon and his parents (his mom loved how big his appetite was), a few hours of videogames, maybe even a walk later at night. Their schedules had mercifully freed up in months.
Any other time they would have been sincerely waiting on Jihoon's mom and Max to come back, putting something on TV while catching up with each other, perhaps even cuddling a little in the momentary privacy.
But they hadn't seen each other in more than six months. Hyunwook was probably frustrated. Jihoon was definitely frustrated. Jihoon was also very inconveniently. . . ovulating. So when Hyunwook had shown up with that sweet smile and wire-rimmed glasses on his face, his Hyunwoong, he had wasted no time in pulling him in and smashing their mouths together in something that was way, way beyond a mere welcome kiss.
Five more minutes had passed until then, and now they were on the couch with Hyunwook's mouth firmly latched onto his right nipple. This certainly wasn't part of the plan, but when Hyunwook had accidentally brushed his fingers against his chest Jihoon hadn't been able to hold back his whimper.
Hyunwook pulled back and looked at him in disbelief. "Hyung, are you. . . "
"Yeah," Jihoon breathed out, becoming whinier and poutier. "It hurts, Hyunwoongie."
And Hyunwook, like a good dongsaeng, did what he could to help relieve his hyung from the pain of his sore, lactating nipples.
They now had maybe ten minutes left before Jihoon's mom came back. Hyunwook was gently massaging one of his breasts while he continued to suckle at the other, trying and trying to coax the milk out. He was being so gentle and patient about it too, but unfortunately they had chosen the worst possible time to do this, so. Slow and steady will not win the race this time.
Just as Jihoon had convinced Hyunwook to pick up the pace, a rougher twist to his nipples that made him arch and cling and cry out, his breast tingled as the first drops of milk finally landed in Hyunwook's mouth.
Jihoon didn't get time to revel in it, however, as he heard the whoosh of the milk boiling over the stovetop in the kitchen right at the same moment.
Five minutes left.
Jihoon's mom was going to kill him.
junhoyeol, bruise, 15
Junho may be tough-skinned, but he bruises like a peach.
Hoyeol finds this out quite quickly into their acquaintance, the evidence all over those high cheekbones and soft, pink lips.
He looks like a work of art, bruises like gouache on canvas applied by a meticulous hand. The irony is that those hands are anything but that—senseless, cruel, careless.
And then they became partners, and the thought of those unwanted hands painting bruises onto Junho became unbearable. Because on the heels of Hoyeol feeling fiercely protective, came the urge to be the only one to put them there.
Not in the same way, never in the same way. But in the way an artist sculpts, each motion calculated to enhance the subject's beauty.
"Look, Junho-yah."
Hoyeol turns Junho's face towards the communal bathroom mirror with a firm hand. The lingering humidity had made it foggy, so Hoyeol frees his other hand—replaced by hips firmly pinning Junho in place against the counter–to wipe the condensation.
There, they bloom. Reds and maroons and magentas stark against Junho's neck.
He still bruises so easily. But now, only Hoyeol gets to decide their placement, the pressure, strictly out of the violence of pleasure.
Seongtak, lipstick, 30
It starts with fucking Baku, as most disasters often do.
It truly was Gotak's misfortune of having Baku over when his sister was visiting with his niece. They were immediately roped into a game of princess roleplay, complete with waxy child-friendly make-up, tiaras, and press-on nails. Baku not only took a thousand photos, but also shared them in the group chat in an act of public humiliation ritual.
Or it was so only for Gotak, because nothing fazed Baku.
Of course Seongje, who had somehow squirrelled his way into the Eunjangz group chat after his whole... thing with Gotak started, took special note of the photos.
Gotak hadn't thought much of his "🚬" react at that time (whatever the fuck that meant.)
Which brings them here, now, at the Union's hideout, empty save for Seongje and Gotak, who he had booty-called over.
The cheap leather couch under Gotak creaks with every shift as Seongje hovers over him, caging him in. Gotak's arms feel like jelly underneath him as Seongje tries to lay him flat just by the strength and pressure of his mouth against his, licking into it continuously.
So amid the noises and Gotak being thoroughly kissed stupid, he doesn't register Seongje shuffling through his pockets until he backs off with one final smacking kiss.
He has that smug, borderline crazed look on his face that has never boded well for anyone in the history of time, ever.
Gotak furrows his eyebrows in suspicion. "What now?"
Seongje scoffs. "Yah, yah, yah. Can't you trust me even a little?" Then he pouts, the sight of which inspires in Gotak pure cringe and something else he would never name in a million years name. "It's always what now with you and never how are you, jagiya.”
"Jagi—my ass!" Gotak snaps, heat crawling up his neck. "Hurry the fuck up now, I don't have all day."
"Like you have so many better things to do." Seongje rolls his eyes, and before Gotak can retort to that, pulls up what he had been fiddling with in his pocket.
It's a tube of lipstick, the liquid inside blood red and shimmering with what looks like glitter.
Gotak stills. "What the fuck," he says, "are you suddenly into drag now?"
"Nah, but you seem to be," Seongje hums. "Pink isn't your shade, though. Uri Gotak," he uncaps the lipstick, "would look much better in red."
Gotak starts struggling as Seongje creeps closer with the applicator. "Yah, stop joking—don't you dare—keep that away from me! YAH—"
Later, Seongje lies on the couch, absentmindedly tracing the deeper than usual bite marks on his neck with one hand while the other holds his cigarette. His fingers, when he brings them up to his face, are coated in a faint red shimmer. So is the filter of his cigarette. He starts laughing, and doesn't stop.
Legend says (which is just Juntae) that Gotak is still scrubbing the red glitter lacquer off his lips to this day (which really is just the next day).
shse, scary movie, 27
There has been something different about Suho since he woke up from his coma.
Sieun doesn't quite know how to explain it. It's still his Suho—sweet, loyal, dependable, attached at the hip. But sometimes when he's staring at Sieun, something shifts behind his eyes, into an intensity that Sieun had always yearned for, but it's a few shades wrong. Like someone else wearing Suho's skin.
But Sieun elects to dismiss these concerns because he finally has Suho back.
That becomes his fatal mistake.
Deep into the night they're watching some comedy movie at Sieun's apartment. Sieun frankly had mentally checked out sometime after the first twenty minutes, mentally going through his study material in his head for an exam next week. He would feel guilty but he knows Suho doesn't mind, and that just spending time together was enough for them.
Sieun feels the air shift as Suho suddenly turns to him and asks, "What's your favourite scary movie?"
An innocent question otherwise, even if a bit of a non sequitor considering they're currently watching a comedy. But there's something in the way Suho says it, body going from lax to stock-still like a predator locking onto it's prey.
"I don't know... I don't really watch any. It's all the same anyway, some serial killer chasing some woman dumb enough to let her guard down and then paying for it," Sieun answers, trying to smother down the creeping sense of unease as he forces himself to look Suho in the eyes.
And Sieun doesn't know if it's his paranoia at this point, but Suho's eyes, usually a beautiful honey-golden, get completely eclipsed by a darkness he has never seen directed at himself before.
"So surely you wouldn't be dumb enough to fall into the same trap, right Sieun-ah?"
Sieun is so occupied with making sense of the situation that he doesn't notice the flash of silver in Suho's hand until he's falling backwards onto the couch, the knife embedded into the cushion barely a centimeter away from his right ear.
Before Sieun can react, Suho already has both of his wrists in one of his large hands, pinned above.
“Suho! What—!" Sieun struggles to break free, but Suho has always been stronger of the two. "What is wrong with you!?"
Suho's breathing has gone heavier and erratic. "What do I do, Sieun-ah? I can't help it. I woke up and all I could think about," and there he unsheaths the knife from the couch and runs the edge along Sieun's jaw, "was this look on your face. So scared, so helpless."
Sieun gulps, pulse thrumming like crazy beneath the press of Suho's thumb and the knife against his neck, so close to his carotid artery.
This wasn't someone else wearing Suho's skin, Sieun realizes now. It is his Suho, but one that he doesn't recognize anymore. Someone who has been twisted and morphed from protector to a predator, when something got knocked lose in the wrong place.
But the thing about Sieun is, he has always been completely at Ahn Suho's mercy, from that very day of his fight with Yeongbin.
It's the truth Sieun contends with as he closes his eyes, tears trailing down his face, and gives himself up for Suho as he always has, even as his heart turns frozen with fear.
But he won't go down without a fight.
His eyes snap open.