UGH! / SOPE & VMIN.

TWENTY TWO, BAD IDEAS MAKE GREAT STORIES.

BAD IDEAS MAKE
GREAT STORIES.

   SOFT GRUNTS, HANDS threaded in hair, the sound of rusholme ruffians playing, skin scorching together in a way that makes groans and moans escape, teeth nipping at any available skin and calloused fingers gripping fervently at flesh. hoseok lets out a curse as yoongi sucks a dark mark into the skin below his ear, nipping sharply so a burst of pain runs through his body. yoongi's all tough exterior but he melts like a penny cone on a hot day when hoseok pushes him back onto the sofa bed, trailing lips down his body.

it's been a whole day since they played tonsil tennis while off their tits, and hoseok had written this banger of a song that he doesn't even know how he came up with, and they'd gotten higher and ordered korean food 'cause they both felt nostalgic, but something had been there, unspoken. and now that unspoken thing is coming alive with hoseok's lips tracing patterns into the rough, tastes like cigarettes and sweat skin of yoongi's abdomen, coming alive in yoongi's hands gripping at the bedsheets as if it'll stop him from falling.

yoongi's still got trousers on, as has hoseok, but he yanks the baggy indian fabric down like it offends him. "hoseok, fuck," yoongi pants as a hot mouth kisses his sharp hip bones wetly, hoseok's dark, dilated eyes looking up at him. "come here, bloody fuck—"

he pulls hoseok up onto him, his thighs straddling yoongi's hips, and they're kissing and it's hot and wet and desperate, like this were something that needs rushing, like they're still naughty teenagers giving each other handies in the alleyway behind the club, all gasps and muffled groans. yoongi hisses into hoseok's lips when there's some friction on his hardening cock, grinding up into hoseok's jeans, the rough fabric harsh but blissful.

hoseok's kisses feel like punches in the mouth, rough, but yoongi finds himself drinking it in deep like whiskey, enjoying the clash of teeth and the taste of blood when hoseok accidentally bites down too hard on his bottom lip. it's all hot and wet and violent, it's rock and roll, and they're higher than the beatles when they wrote sargent pepper, yoongi feels like he's floating. hoseok's fingertips are so rough as they go down his stomach, caressing the butterflies blooming in his stomach, and yoongi full on chokes when they're suddenly wrapped around his cock.

"you're pretty," hoseok whispers in a choked out way, in a way that suggests his throat is hoarse and the words are cutting their way out, and yoongi's all heart shaped irises and peach pink brushed across his cheeks because he's blushing so hard he might be on fire. and then he's a nightingale, moans escaping his reddened lips ever so sweetly as hoseok's hand moves, tight and rough and he's throwing his head back 'cause his lungs are being constricted and he can't fucking breathe, hoseok's mouthing wetly at his adam's apple and leaving sinful red marks.

it doesn't take long to come like this, doesn't take long for yoongi to tear up and start seeing stars, these same constellations falling from his eyes in tears, doesn't take long for him to cry hoseok's name and rake red love hearts into his back with bitten nails. "hoseok, fuck, fuck—" toes curling, eyes clenched tightly shut, hoseok whispers in his ear, making him sob.

"look so pretty, so lovely for me, coming undone," hoseok kisses his tears away but no matter how tender the words are he's still making yoongi come harder than he ever has, the sensation pouring over him like electric shocks, horrible and euphoric all at once.

"ngh, fuck," yoongi pants hotly, his lips swollen and ruby red, slowly relaxing his tensed fists, the tears flowing out of his control, wetting his spread out hair. "hoseok, fuck—" he pulls hoseok down to kiss him again, craving him like a drug, breathing heavily, wincing as hoseok's hand moves off his cock, the inside of his boxers now sticky and a bit disgusting.