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luci-is-a-bitch-x3x · 7 months

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Obey me! Brothers with Demon behaviors (part 1??) :

You can find any other parts here: part one (you are here), part two, part three, part four

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Welcome! This is a random drabble of some of the demon behaviors I believe the brothers have. Basically animailistic behaviors or odd things the brothers do because their demons. It may have dark themes or dark themes may be implied. If this isn't you're cup of tea then don't read it! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

Caution: May contain dark themes or imply towards dark themes. May contain nsfw or it may imply towards nsfw themes.

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✧✧Sleeping patterns✧✧

I've seen people talk about the demon brothers or just the demons in general having animalistic characteristics. I like to think that not only do they have a pact mentality with Mc, but also that their sleep schedules are the way they are so that one of the brothers is always up. Belphie is no help in this but Lucifer & Levi are always up doing something, Levi's gaming, Lucifer doing paperwork. Satan is sometimes up reading and Beel wakes up in the middle of the night for a snack. I imagine Mammon is usually coming home late either from doing errands for the witches or because he was at the casino. Asmo gets his beuaty sleep usually, unless he's partying. So i imagine the first brothers up are Asmo and Beel, Lucifer probably gets up early but he doesn't get a lot of sleep, Satan may also get up early, i feel like it just depends with him. Like Imagine when Levi maybe even Mammon go to bed thats when Asmo and Beel are getting up. Lucifer probably sleeps sometime around this time too. Beel probably gets up around like 4-5 in the morning just to work out or go for a run. Asmo probably gets up around 4-5-6 in the morning to start getting ready for the day. Levi is usually just going to bed after gaming or watching anime around this time, and Mammon is probably just getting home. Lucifer may take a nap for like 3-5 in the morning, I mean Levi is up and always in the house, so he knows the house is protected. Lucifer is definitely the type to time his sleep schedule just so he knows one of his brothers or even Mc is up. I can see Satan being the same in that aspect, Satan probably perfers to sleep knowing someone else in the house is up, but I feel like he wouldn't be as bad as Lucifer about it, if Satan's tired enough he's going to bed, simple as that. It's defiently preferred for someone to be up however. It's like an unspoken rule between the brothers. The brothers may trust Mc and allow Mc to be the only one up, but i feel like they would prefer for one of them to be up with Mc, what if something happens?? Someone needs to be up and ready to protect Mc. Also demons definitely don't need as much sleep as humans do, unless they use a lot or over use their demon powers. So it's very uncommon to find every brother in the house asleep.

✧✧Scents✧✧

Scents are a big thing for animals and I feel like for Demons it matters a lot as well. I'm sure hygiene is important in the Devildom, but no where near as important as in the human world. When I say scent I mean their scent on Mc. They may have a certain cologne or perfume they wear, that might make someone say hey that smells like whatever brother, probably like fancy cologne that not all demons can afford as well, but i believe they each have their own specific scent, that can only be rubbed off by them. Each brother has their own way of making sure Mc smells like them. Although they would prefer for Mc to smell just like them, their pact mentality will allow for Mc to smell like all of them, in their minds if Mc smells like 7 of some of the most powerful demons in Devildom, well what idiot would even interact with Mc then. The brothers have more subtle ways of making Mc smell like them, but the brothers have blatantly obvious ways as well. The obvious ways are usually only used when being jealous or protective over Mc.

Lucifer is usually more subtle about it: He may gift Mc a perfum or cologne that smells oddly similar to his. Its the same one mans has no shame. Oh Mc you look cold, here put on Lucifer's coat and gloves. No its not so that you'll smell like him, he cant have you getting sick is all. To him both reasons are valid. You're safer smelling like him after all. I also imagine Lucifer has like his own Landry detergent, that no one else is allowed to use, but if Lucifer has Landry duty Mc is bound to find that their clothes smell like Lucifer's while everyone else's clothes smell normal. Lucifer may do subtle ways like those to make Mc smell like him, but say he hasn't had time to do those things, or he's feeling overly protective, he has no problem just swooping in and making sure you smell like him in a less subtle way. Lucifer may just walk up and scoop Mc into a really long hug or make out session, if he has the time he'll gladly take them to his bedroom to make sure his smell stays on them. Lucifer wouldnt just out right spray Mc with his cologne but he may subtly put some on his gloves and then graze his hands over Mc's body, so his cologne scent is all over Mc. Call him out on it, he'll deny it with his life. If all else fails Lucifer will shamelessly hide Mc's shower supplies, claim that one of his brothers must have sold or stole them, and then promptly tell them to feel free to use his shower supplies until they can get replacements. He's shameless about it as long as Mc doesnt know, and even if Mc does know, Mc will never get the Avatar of Pride to admit he sunk that low just to make his human smell like him. If Lucifer just decides to scoop Mc up and he happens to take Mc from one of his brothers, if hes in the mood he may go along with the fight, or he may just put his brothers in their place, either way he will wind up with Mc.

Mammon oh sweet boy he tries to be subtle sometimes such as: Mammon may gift Mc his cologne or perfume, but he may also gift them gold items or items that just scream Mammon. Mammon will gift shower products to Mc, claiming they help him look good for modeling gigs so they have to be good products. Their just random products he always uses, but he needs Mc smelling like him, he's their first man!! Mammon can always come up with some exuse for Mc to wear something he's always wearing. His signature jacket- humans get sick faster than demons and theres a slight breeze Mc!! His signature sunglasses? Doesnt matter that theres not sun in the Devildom Mc. The light in this room is to bright for you're human eyes!! No this has nothing to do with the fact that a low rank demon flirted with you, you're first man is just looking out for you!! Even though Mammon attempts to be subtle, its usually not subtle, if Mammon is feeling jealous or protective enough that shy tsundare personality will go out the window. Mammon is the Avatar of Greed, and Mc is his human. Mammon has no shame when he is making sure Mc smells like him. He will shamelessly pull Mc into a random make out session anywhere, and will take it as far as Mc will let him, no matter the setting. Mammon will usually use physical touch to brush his scent off onto Mc, long hugs, lots of cuddles, just touching Mc in general. If Mammon doesnt have the time to, say he has to go on an errand for the witches but passes Mc and smells that his scent is gone, well lets just say Mammon is not the Avatar of Pride. Mammon will shamelessly drag Mc into his room, just to drench them in his cologne making sure they at least smell like him in that way. When Mammon gets back from the errand he'll make sure Mc smells like the real him, not just his cologne. If Mammon gets jealous enough to steal Mc from one of his brothers, well chaos erupts. His brothers tend to forget hes the second oldest because he doesnt act like it or flaunt about it to often. Unless its Lucifer, Mammon will gladly show his younger brothers why he's the second oldest, if its Lucifer hes taking Mc from, Mammon will put his all into the fight, he may respect Lucifer but thats his human, and his human should smell like their first man.

Leviathan has many subtle ways to make Mc smell like him. Our jealous boy is to shy to flat out make Mc smell like him unless he's feeling jealous enough. Instead he has a notebook, with methodically thought out plans on how to subtly make Mc smell like him. Luckily but Unluckily he stays in his room most of the time. He's lucky for this, because his room and everything in it has and rubs off his scent. He's unlucky because anytime Mc isn't in his room or with him, Mc is getting other scents on them and loosing his scent. Levi envys his brothers that Mc always seems to smell like, always wishing it was his scent instead. When Mc comes into Levi's room to hang out, if its a planned hang out session, Levi will have planned before hand. He'll sleep with a certain blanket for days before hand, going to the extreme of even having the blanket on him while gaming. He'll sit in the game chair thats supposed to be designated to Mc just so when Mc sits in it, they get his scent on them. Levi will use the controller he designated to Mc, anything "player two" designated gets used so it will give Mc his scent. If the hang out session isn't planned? Thats okay! Mc is his 3D idol he worships! Adding things to his routine that would help in worshiping them was like adding a new anime character to his worship routine! Levi does all the things said before on a daily basis, he can never miss a opportunity! Mc will smell like him at all costs!! That being said, let's talk the more obvious ways Levi will scent claim Mc. If Levi gets jealous enough he wobt even realizing hes acting until he's already done whatever he does. Say Mc hasn't hung out with Levi in awhile so they don't smell like him, and then he sees Mc with one of his brothers all over them?? Usually he'll let it go but say he's having a bad day lost a ruri-chan figure and he sees said situation and catches a whiff of Mc, the envy and jealous would overflow. He'd go marching up to Mc and whatever brother, in his demon form and all, if its a younger brother he'll just snatch Mc out of their arms hissing and baring his fangs as he shouts about Mc being his Henry. If he takes Mc from Beel, unless Beel feeling moody, Beel will let him take Mc since he'd be a confused puppy, Beel usually doesn't get yelled at and Levi usually doesn't at like that. If its Lucifer or Mammon Levi has to take Mc from, well just hope they let him take Mc, maybe they'll let it go because he usually doesn't act like this. If they don't let it go and fight him over it, Levi will put all he has into the fight, he has to win his Henry back. If Levi loses If they give up and let him win, or he goes against the odds and beats them, he'll scoop Mc up and drag them with him to his room. There he will do whatever he needs to make his scent stick on Mc. Once Mc smells like him, he'll slowly go back to acting normal, which means he gets really sheepish and apologizes for how he acted, but he'll do it all over again if he has to.

Satan went to the books for help on how to make Mc smell like him, subtly and unsubtly. The subtle ways Satan makes Mc smell like him is through romantic gestures: lending his jacket/sweater when its cold, reading books snuggled up close, having Mc hold his arm or hand, kissing Mc's wrist or hand, giving gifts that oddly smell like him. Small subtle tricks to make at least a little of his scent rub off onto Mc. If Satan's desperate for Mc to smell like him but he doesnt have the time to be with Mc, he'll sneak into their room and spray his cologne on the clothes they wear the most, R.A.D Uniform, casual clothes, bed clothes, whatever he's making sure they smell like him. When Satan is being less subtle, maybe he's in a mood, or maybe Mc smelled a bit to much like Lucifer for Satan's liking, Satan will gladly find Mc and drag them to his room or the library, somewhere were his brothers arent. If he happens to take Mc from one of his brothers and his brother trys to fight him for Mc..Well he'll just show him why he's the Avatar of Wrath. Even if he looses the fight, he does his damage and fights his battle hard. If Satan wins the fight he'll bring them to his room and try to act casual, like he didnt just lose his composure. He'll read books while cuddling with them, placing kisses anywhere he can reach on Mc while rubbing his hands gently across their body, trying to spread his scent across them, if Mc allows he will gladly take it further, leading to a passionate heated night. It doesn't matter what choice Mc picks, they will smell like Satan by the time they leave his room, and he'll make sure of it.

Asmodeus can pull his scent claiming off as subtle better than most if not all his brothers. Asmo is a touchy person. Asmo will hug Mc, hold hands with Mc, kiss Mc, you think of it hes doing it, as long as Mc allows him to. Asmo has all kinds of products he can give to Mc that will make Mc smell like him all while claiming its good for their health or it was just such a nice product to use! Asmo gifts Mc whatever kind of perfume or colgne he's currently wearing, if he switches he buys two making sure to give the second to Mc. Same goes for bath products, and lotions, any products that have a scent he is making Mc has it as well. Asmo also has a lot more clothes and fashion accessories than most of his brothers. Asmo will almost beg Mc to choose stuff from his closet to wear, playing it off on it just being cute and how he only want to take some Devilgram pictures, in actuality he wants Mc to wear his clothes and accessories so his scent will rub off on them. If Mc somehow doesn't smell like Asmo, or one of his brothers scents over powers his to much, Asmo will not hesitate to use unsubtle methods of scent claiming. Mc can expect to witness an incredibly dramatic fight. If its one of the older brothers, Asmo gives it his all, if he loses he's overly dramatic and whiney. If Asmo wins the fight against any of his brothers, he'll promptly scoop Mc up, if Mc allows it he'll do whatever in front of the brother he won Mc from, if Mc likes being in the private of his room, he carry them off to his room in a hurry. Asmo will scent claim Mc anyway Mc will allow him. He's the Avatar of Lust he's ready when Mc is ready. If Mc wants more casual not all the way, well cuddles and kisses will defiently put his scent on Mc!

Beelzebub has his subtle ways to make Mc smell like him. I don't think Beel uses colgne besides for special occasions so Mc usually gets his natural scent on them. Some subtle ways Beel scent claims Mc: Beel will offer them piggy back rides or shoulder rides, saying he doesnt want to loose Mc in crowds or even going as far as saying it'll help him work out. Beels most subtle way of getting his scent on Mc is working out together, Mc sits on his back as he does pushups all close together and adding his sweat, Mc will stench of Beel by the time they leave to do something else. Beel is a cuddle bear, if Mc isn't hugging or always touching him, Beel can innocently ask for hugs or cuddles to rub his scent on them, Beel can also offer his jacket to Mc claiming its cold and humans get sick fast. I feel like Beel doesnt do the unsubtle ways very often, he doesnt seem like the type to get jealous fast, and hes a cuddle bear so he's not prone to fighting. That being said he's still a bear, he may not be one of the oldest but his physical strength and large apperance help when it comes to fighting his brothers for Mc. It's rare that these fights take place, but say he gets jealous enough he will try and take Mc from anyone of his brothers. Besides maybe Lucifer and Belphie, the twins share well Belphie says it in game all the time. If Beel looses the fight hes like a sad puppy, but uses the lose as motivation to work out more. If Beel wins the fight he'll run off to his and Belphie's room with Mc in his arms. Beel seems like the type to apologize to Mc for his actions right away. As he's carrying Mc away from whatever brother he won them from, he'll apologize for acting so aggressively, and for possibly scaring Mc. When they get to the twins room Mc can lead it to be something a little more spicy, or Mc can allow Beel to cuddle them and use them as a weight for working out. He needs to workout his anger someway either through spicy actions with Mc or just working out normally, and what better way to make Mc smell like him then to have Mc wind up covered in his sweat from being his workout weight.

Belphegor has his subtle ways, but he's a spoiled brat so I feel like he would shamelessly do unsubtle ways of scent claiming Mc. Belphie's subtle ways of scent claiming Mc are: taking naps in their bed so his scent rubs off on their bed, they'll get covered in his scent when they go to sleep next. Stealing their blankets or pillows to take naps with, only giving them back to Mc once the items are covered in his scent, claiming it was just to soft to not nap with, but he really just wants Mc to smell like him. Belphie takes nap with Mc, or lays on Mc and naps while Mc does other things. This and the fact that he's a clingy demon, means that Mc is usually covered in his scent anyways. If all else fails Belphie will offer his hoodie thing? to mc claiming humans get cold fast, if that doesnt work, Belphie will, if he can fit in them, wear Mc's clothes. If he cant fit in them he'll just sleep with Mc's clothes like a stuffed animal or he'll pile Mc's clothes up and then sleep on all of them. Belphie is the youngest which means if he's jealous enough and wanted to pull Mc away from one of his brothers and it came down to a fight over who gets Mc, he'd probably lose unless his brothers let him win. Belphie is a whiney brat and he will throw a tantrum if he looses the fight. If he wins the fight he'll scoop Mc up and take them to his and Beel's room or the attic. Belphie usually chooses the attic just because its his safe space, and his feelings are off the roof after a fight over Mc with one of his brothers. Belphie would never say it out loud to Mc but he's scared to loose them. Belphie won't let Mc go until they smell like him again, Mc can have lots of cuddles and a good nap, or if he's jealous enough and Mc's in the mood things can get spicy. Either way Mc will probably nap with Belphie and when they finally get free of Belphie's clingy grasp they will stench of the sloth demon.

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Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! I'll probably do more parts of this! I just love the headcannons of them actually acting like demons. They aren't meant to be sweet and innocent all the time, they are literal demons. & as Mc we take a class that teaches us how they would seduce us, I'm sorry but I personally believe they act a little like demons sometimes, even if Mc doesnt know or realize. Anyways! I have other content coming soon so Stay tuned! Stay safe! & Stay Classy!

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⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

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dumplingsfordays · 6 months

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Reading 30 Strales and omg Blade smelling like citrus sounds amazing. I've been playing for about 3 weeks and after fulling catching up on the trailblazer quests I was like dang blade kills people a lot right, he probably smells like blood 24/7 that's so gross. All this to say... reject logic, I agree that blade smells like citrus. Do you have thoughts on what any of the others would smell like?

what the hsr men smell like

ft. blade, gepard, jing yuan, dan heng, luocha, and welt

cw!: mentions of blood, no pronouns for reader mentioned, implied relationship, cuddling, swearing, super fluffy :)

note - thank you so much for reaching out to me omg 🥺 i reject logic too so that's how the whole citrus thing came to be ajsjdk. also i know absolutely nothing about colognes/fragrances so i'm sorry if i mess some of these up ;-; hope you're having a great day/night though pookie <3

and as always, thank you for reading :)

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blade

~ as mentioned above, def smells like citrus and bergamot.

~ sometimes you can catch a little metallic-y whiff of (cough cough) def not blood (cough cough), but it never lasts for long - when he hugs you, the smell of oranges invades your senses like a light summer breeze~

~ and don't get me started on how obsessed he is w this scent. if he stays somewhere for even 1-2 days, you know he's bringing along his 3 freakin citrus-scented candles!!

~ please run your fingers thru his hair when you're hanging out or cuddling. please. he will melt from headpats and your fingers will smell like his shampoo for the rest of the day, and since you love the scent of gentle lime, why not?

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gepard

~ omg this man!! he's totally giving cashmere + hot cocoa for some reason??? he doesn't really use cologne/fragrances and prefers his natural scent, but does use cashmere and vanilla body wash + shampoo.

~ like sure, after a busy day at work or training he'll kinda smell like sweat but will immediately take a shower when he gets home. he hates being sweaty and thinks it's icky if he does for too long-

~ and when you snuggle up to him for cuddle time on a day off, you just wanna stay there forever bc his scent envelops you like a blanket on freezing winter nights <3

~ overall very comforting and warm, just like Gepard himself!! (cries in human heater vibes)

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jing yuan

~ musk + cinnamon + a little bit of spice, and def uses cologne.

~ actually wants to smell nice and puts in the effort!! changes his sheets, washes his clothes, showers every day (but washes his hair every 3 days or so bc haircare)

~ speaking of haircare, this man's big on it. most of his haircare products smell like the aforementioned musk and cinnamon, but he uses this one cream that smells like cloves and you freakin adore it. sometimes you borrow it so that whenever you're going out and he's busy with his big boy general duties, it feels like he's with u <3

~ and ughhhh his bedroom smells like him so whenever you guys have le cuddle time you fall asleep almost immediately. ofc he eventually does too (bc he loves how u smell too pookie, don't tell him i said that though he would kill me aksjskd) and you're so warm and soft and how could he not fall asleep??

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dan heng

~ very ocean-y (salty?), small hints of eucalyptus and cypress as well. when he uses cologne he uses very, very little, but he actually has 2 separate colognes, one for the ocean-y cypress, and the other for the eucalyptus

~ i feel like this is kinda a bold statement but he uses bath bombs. like he gets a bath bomb that smells like mint, gets in the bathtub w it, and glides his thumbs over its surface bc he likes the texture-

~ he might not be the cleanest man in the universe, but he sure does smell like it!! something about eucalyptus and cypress and mint and a hint of ocean breeze is chillingly refreshing and tbh you kinda dig it :D

~ mornings w dan heng. omfg they are ethereal bc he literally smells angelic??? like a gentle freshness yk and the pillows smell like him too so lazy mornings are def a thing that you guys love sharing <3

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luocha

~ oooo he's kinda a wild card imo, but personally, i think that he smells like jasmine + honey (not just bc of his idle + technique!! pinky promise)

~ he lowkey smells a little like freshly-cut grass, very light n refreshing. however, jasmine takes center stage, and if you really bury your face in his long-ass hair, you can catch a whiff of chamomile :))

~ super big on herbal teas and honey as well - i hc that he brings a water bottle w him that's just green tea n honey so when you're close to his face (cuddling, hugging, etc) the honey adds this sweetness that blends super well w the aforementioned chamomile + jasmine <3

~ like jing yuan, super involved in haircare!! he does use less products, but you still freakin adore this chamomile shampoo that he uses. avid believer in aromatherapy, prob uses essential oils (not for curing cancer ofc)

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welt

~ coffee and amberwood!! both are deep and rich scents and he probably uses cologne in very small amounts aksjdks

~ coffee addict and the scent faintly lingers, so the amberwood is really more prominent, but overall i promise he doesn't smell like dust or smth, he's not that old he takes good care of himself :))

~ burns incense in his room bc it helps him relax and concentrate on his drawings, so he does have a little resin smell to him, but you don't mind bc it's actually quite comforting. he once almost caused a fire bc he dropped a lit match onto the carpet but we don't talk about that-

~ loves to hug you so whenever he does, you always feel so cozy and loved and aaaaa ya'll are so cute i can't <3 and since he's pretty tall he sometimes rests his head on top of yours and hugs you from behind like that and you melt immediately bc it's like a blanket!! but smells super nice!!

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#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #fluff #gepard fluff #blade fluff #jing yuan fluff #dan heng fluff #luocha fluff #welt fluff #blade x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #dan heng x reader #luocha x reader #welt x reader #tysm for the idea though!!! i actually love it sm-

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tenelkadjowrites · 1 year

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Everyday at the Bus Stop ♡ - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

🚌 Summary: Your crush on fellow passenger, Seonghwa, changes into something new the day the bus breaks down.

🚌 Word count: 9k

🚌 Genre and warnings: one shot smut. fem pronouns for reader. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie.

🚌 Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @hwasrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @xirenex - sorry if i missed anyone.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

Monday

You glance at the time on your phone, tapping your foot impatiently. Having already been sitting on the bus for over an hour, you are anxious to get home from work. The day is endless, your feet hurt, and all you want to do was crawl into bed.

But of course the bus, which moved at the glacial pace of a snail on a good day, now found itself stuck in traffic. Slumping lower in your seat, you exhale slowly, rummaging through your bag to find your headphones. This ride is more boring than usual because he isn’t here, you think sullenly. You aren’t sure how many other people had a Bus Crush to pass away the time but yours didn’t show up today.

You wonder if he’s sick. Or maybe something worse – he got a different job and didn’t have to take this bus any longer. That would be just your luck. In the past year, he had been at your bus stop every evening. His stop was somewhere after yours because he remained when you left.

Bus Crush was gorgeous, the sort of ethereal beauty that seemed to exist only in magazines, not public transportation. He would sit down in the same spot every trip, pull out a book and read quietly to himself. No headphones to block out the drone of the bus, just taking the full brunt of the loud engine and traffic noises himself. He usually wore some of the most stylish, well put together clothes you’ve ever seen. His hair was as black as his painted nails. He typically wore one silver earring that would dangle and sway with each bump of the bus, occasionally catching the evening light. His jaw, well defined as if cut from marble, matched his equally picturesque cheekbones and his lips were always perfectly plump and a nice shade of pink. You knew literally nothing about him, not even his name.

But you knew he was gorgeous, you knew he was the hottest person you’ve ever seen, and you knew that if he ever glanced in your general direction, you would probably faint on the spot.

Still…not having him around made the bus trip worse than usual.

With a small sigh, you close your eyes, hit play on the music and try to zone out.

Tuesday

You recognize his silhouette before he even comes into clear view. He is standing at the bus stop, waiting patiently for it to arrive. Today, he wears a coat made of a thin pale blue material with his hands shoved into the pockets, his face tilted in the direction of where the bus would pop into view. The other people at the spot vanish in front of your eyes as relief hits you that he is here today and yesterday had been a fluke. Maybe he really was sick or something, you think, shuffling towards the overhang, sneaking an extra glance at him.

Bus Crush doesn’t notice but an older lady that is at the stop every Tuesday and Thursday does, ducking her head to hide her smile. Fine, so maybe it is evident to other people that you are admiring him but as long as he never notices you exist, does it matter? Such beauty like his is impenetrable anyway.

The bus arrives on time and you trail in after Bus Crush just to catch a little bit of his cologne which always smells faintly of the woods. You wonder what he does all day, you wonder why he is always on the stop just like you. You know the answer is most likely something benign like work or school but some days your imagination gets away from you, resulting in fantastic scenarios being created.

All the regulars slip into the usual spots. If one of their spots is taken, they simply take the one closest to it. Your seat is near the window but also offers a good view of Bus Crush’s profile. Sinking down into your seat, you watch as Bus Crush pulls the book out of his coat pocket. His thin and slender fingers find the bookmark, opening to the page. The book is well worn as if it has been read a thousand times.

Things are back to normal. Bus Crush has returned to his spot, reading quietly, and you are in yours, sneaking glances at him. Just how it should be.

Wednesday

All you want to do is get home and go to sleep. Having slept badly the night before, work today killed the little spirit remaining. That explains why, when your bus stop comes around, you scamper out of your seat, anxious to get home.

It also explains why you aren’t paying attention to much, including your things. You are almost at the exit of the bus when a voice slices through the sound of the bus engine idling.

“Wait, miss,” Someone calls out and you hesitate, slowing down and glancing over your shoulder.

To your amazement, it is Bus Crush speaking. At first, the idea that his words are directed at you seem ridiculous. Why would he talk to you now? But as he moves forward, it hits like brunt force to the chest that he is looking at you.

He wears a black button up with a small black jacket today, the silver earring dangling with each step. His shoes are polished, same with the silver belt buckle wrapped around his slender waist. Dazed, you watch as Bus Crush stops in front of you. He is saying something but your brain feels as if it has been submerged underwater and everything is hazy.

“What?” You manage to say, trying not to focus on the fact that his skin is literally perfect – how the hell does he manage that feat?

Bus Crush looks downward and your gaze follows. In the palm of his hand is your cellphone.

“You left this behind in your seat,” He repeats himself.

How are his eyelashes that long? Your brain is refusing to cooperate, leaving you to languish in front of the most intense crush you’ve ever had in your life. You can’t deal with the fact you are standing this close to Bus Crush or that he is speaking directly to you.

He raises his eyes to meet yours. The gaze is electric and the seconds turn into hours. Gone is the bus noise, the vibrations underneath your feet, the tinny music being blasted out of someone’s headphones, the sounds of someone talking way too loudly on the phone. The entire universe is now located at this very spot.

“T-thanks,” You manage to say, reaching for your cellphone.

“No problem,” He replies – his voice is deeper than you thought it would be, sexier than it needed to be. Couldn’t the universe cut you a break in some area and make his voice sound like a chipmunk or something?

You take your phone out of his hand. Your fingers brush against his warm skin, marveling at how soft it is before it all becomes too much – Bus Crush looking at you with an expression that is unreadable, the fact you are convinced your adoration of him is written all over your face, and the bus driver staring daggers at you for holding things up.

“Thanks,” You repeat, taking a step back and then turning around, fleeing the bus as if it were on fire, leaving Bus Crush behind.

It isn’t until halfway down the block you realize that in order for him to notice your phone had been left behind, he would have needed to be paying attention to you.

Thursday

He isn’t coming today, you think while staring at the bus doors which are going to close at any second. You don’t know if it is relief or disappointment that you’re feeling about Bus Crush not being here again this week. The interaction from yesterday has been playing in your mind repeatedly even when you wish that it wouldn’t. Just why are you dwelling on two seconds of attention from Bus Crush makes you feel embarrassed –

And then, right as the doors are about to close, Bus Crush hurries through, apologizing to the driver. He is clutching his bag to his chest, slightly out of breath from running. His cheeks are flushed with colour, lips parted a little. Today, a black and white checkered coat hangs off his shoulders, wearing a black button up with silver buttons and a pair of slacks. A thin silver chain is around his dainty neck and a small black hat rests on his head. As usual, he looks too stylish and well put together for the setting but doesn’t seem to be aware of it.

His eyes land on you. Something flickers across his face and his shoulders straighten as if coming to a decision. Then he walks down the aisle – and doesn’t stop at his seat. Instead, he stops in front of yours.

“Would it be okay to sit next to you?”

Confused, all you do is gawk at him. His seat is available. Why does he want to sit next to you? But the bus driver is glowering as the doors close so you nod hastily, squeezing out of the seat to allow Bus Crush to move into the middle seat.

Plopping back down, acutely aware that at some point in time you have entered The Twilight Zone, you stare at the back of the seat in front of you. Bus Crush puts his bag down in the window seat, taking his hat off and shaking it out, running his fingers through his black hair.

“Work ran late cuz of a meeting,” He says – to you, apparently, seeing as he angles his body slightly towards yours, “Almost missed the bus.”

What the fuck is going on? You wonder. Did I fall today and this is all some dream from a really bad concussion? Why is he talking to me as if this is normal?

Something must show in your face because Bus Crush ducks his head, a little embarrassed, and extends his hand. “Sorry. I’m Seonghwa. Sometimes I forget we haven’t talked because I see you everyday at the bus stop.”

You automatically reach for his hand, driven by pure societal instincts, and are floored by the sensation of his skin against yours. In fact, it is so overwhelming that the handshake lasts approximately the length of your name before you pull away.

Bus Crush, no wait, Seonghwa leans back in the seat, his hat resting in his lap. You struggle to find something to say but it is hard to wrap your head around the fact that he is sitting there talking to you. His fingers curl around the hat almost as if he is nervous himself but that would be impossible. His fingernails, still painted black, match the hat as he absentmindedly rubs the fabric a little.

“You, uh, usually read, right?” You say and immediately regret it. Talk about plastering a big neon sign over your head that you watch him on the bus. You want to facepalm or maybe melt onto the floor but instead you just remain expressionless. Wow, nailed it, you think sarcastically.

Seonghwa’s eyes widen ever so slightly as he nods. “I do, yeah. It’s about the only time I can get any reading done.”

“I can hardly focus on this thing. That’s why I just listen to music.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” He gestures towards your bag, “I’m content just to read.”

Next to me? You want to ask but don’t. Bus Crush – damnit, Seonghwa – reaches into his own bag and pulls out the book. It is strange to watch the same process of him opening to his bookmark, long fingers skimming the pages to locate it before settling in his usual position to read.

The world feels a bit off kilter. Seonghwa is meant to be in his usual spot, not knowing you exist. But here he is, next to you, reading his book quietly. You are trying not to stare but it is proving difficult. The curve of his nose, his jawline, those plump lips –

Looking away before he catches you gawking at him, you rummage around in your bag for the headphones. Honestly, you don’t want to listen to music but what is the alternative? Staring at him? You want to ask why he is sitting next to you today but you don’t know what sort of answer would make you happy. It is easier to sit in silence than probe the strangeness of today.

Settling in with the music on, you slump back in the seat. It is impossible not to look at Seonghwa. Your eyes are attracted to him like a magnet. You mentally tick off the new information you have learned about him the last couple of days: what his voice sounds like, what his hands feel like, the fact he works in an office, his name.

The ride continues like this until your stop arrives. The act of shoving your headphones in your bag draws Seonghwa’s attention. He looks over at you.

“Don’t forget your phone,” He reminds you gently.

“Ah, right. I think I was just anxious to get home yesterday. Wasn’t thinking clearly.”

The bus comes to a stop and you stand up, looking down at Seonghwa. His expression is open, trusting and directed strictly at you. The butterflies in your stomach threaten a riot.

“See you tomorrow?” You venture, the words sitting here next to me unsaid and hanging in the air.

He nods, smiling pleasantly. “See you tomorrow.”

You turn around, exhaling slowly to try to calm down your wild heartbeat, exiting the bus and leaving Seonghwa behind.

Friday

Seonghwa isn’t late tonight. He is already at the bus stop when you arrive. He stands straight, his bag strap resting on one shoulder. He wears black slacks with the belt resting on his hips with a thin white button up dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, exposing some of his chest. A black ribbon is gently tied around his neck, forming a small bow on the side opposite of where his silver earring dangles.

Seonghwa looks beautiful, statuesque and stylish in his outfit as usual. He seems to sense your arrival, turning his head in your direction as you approach. He gives a small wave, his smile showing off his perfectly white teeth.

“Hi,” You say sheepishly, having not expected Seonghwa to greet you immediately.

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay. A little tired. You?”

“The same.”

The conversation stalls. He is just looking at you now. Was it your turn to say something? What is there to say? You aren’t sure what is going on between you and Seonghwa. All you can tell is something is shifting, the dynamic turning into…friendship? No, it is too awkward for that. Could it be more than friendship? No, that’s your false hope speaking. For whatever reason, the two second conversation when Seonghwa stopped you from forgetting your phone has altered the dynamic of staring at him as he read his book, knowing he didn’t know you existed. Now, not only did he know but he seemingly wanted to engage.

The bus pulls up then, saving you the embarrassment of asking a silly question just to fill the air. Everyone piles in, going to their respective spots – except Seonghwa, who sits next to you once again. As usual, he brings his book out, opening it up to read. You want to strike up a conversation about the book but don’t people hate being interrupted when they read? Seonghwa had stated this was the only time he got to read so why take that away from him?

But you are spared bothering him because instead of reading right away, he asks, “Do you work around here then?”

“I do, yeah. I just can’t afford a car so I take the bus. You said you work in an office nearby right?”

Seonghwa looks a little embarrassed as he replies, “I don’t know how to drive. I’ve tried. I just get…a lot of anxiety and psych myself out. But it’s only a ten minute walk from the stop to the office I’m at so I figured it works out.”

“What sort of work do you do there?”

He makes a face. “It’s in accounting. It’s not very interesting. A lot of numbers day in and day out. You?”

“I work as a receptionist at a medical office. It’s about as dull as I assume accounting is,” You realize what you said and immediately begin to backtrack, “Not that accounting is boring. I mean, for you. And the others working there.”

Seonghwa laughs quietly, shaking his head. His earring swings, catching the light and glimmering. Your heart constricts at his laugh.

“It’s okay. I did say it’s not very interesting, didn’t I?”

You relax slightly, glad that you didn’t offend him. But before you can say anything else, there is a horrible grinding noise from the bus as it comes to a stop. The bus jostles hard and you are tossed against Seonghwa. His hand goes to your waist as you gasp in surprise.

Up this close, you can smell his faint cologne. One of your hands is on his thigh, gripping it to steady yourself, your other hand flat against his chest. The sudden close proximity of Seonghwa, who used to be a distant figure on the daily bus rides, makes your brain buzz.

His hand moves to your lower back, his voice dropping as he murmurs, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” You say quickly, pushing away from Seonghwa, flustered from both accidently falling all over him and the way your heart is hammering in your chest.

“Well,” Seonghwa remarks dryly, “Whatever that was, it didn’t sound good.”

He ends up being correct. The bus has broken down and everyone is shuffled off to the sidewalk. Standing there awkwardly, you watch as smoke rises from the back of the bus. People are mumbling, complaining, demanding to know when they can get home. Not that you want to be the bearer of bad news but you doubt it will be anytime soon, knowing how the public transit system runs even on a good day.

After around twenty minutes, the driver announces another bus will come by to finish the route in an hour. Cue more grumbling. It is then that Seonghwa nudges you gently.

“Do you wanna walk instead?”

You blink, looking at him. The sun has dipped below the horizon, the final sprays of orange cast across the sky. In the hue of the approaching evening, Seonghwa’s skin looks luminescent and beautiful.

Your distraction by his appearance must make you come off as hesitant because he suddenly looks nervous and keeps talking. “You get off the bus at the stop before mine. So we must live sorta close to one another. I can walk you home. You and I both know it’ll be faster than waiting around here.”

The truth is that you desperately want to agree immediately. You’d walk halfway across the entire city if Seonghwa asked you, that’s how down bad you are for him. It is embarrassing to admit. But you also don’t want to have him walk too far out of the way and make his long night even longer.

Pulling out your phone, you bring up the GPS app. “Put your address in so we can make sure you’re not going too far out of your way.”

“I really don’t mind,” He says but takes your phone, inputting his address.

You do so afterwards, taking note that he is only a twenty minute walk from your place. The guilt erased, you agree to walking home with Seonghwa instead of waiting around for a new bus. Your heart is beating hard, making it difficult to keep your cool around him. Without the buffer of the bus and other people, it is the first time you’ve been alone with him.

Seonghwa walks with ease, occasionally checking his phone to make sure you’re both walking in the right direction. The temperature is starting to drop as the evening rolls in. Earlier in the day it had been quite stuffy and neither of you have jackets. Now, you are regretting the choice.

But if Seonghwa is bothered by the cold creeping in, he doesn’t show it even though his button up appears thin. You trace the outline of the fabric against his skin, the way the ribbon is tied around his neck –

“What is it?” He asks, tilting his face to look at you.

“N-nothing,” You look away, pretending to be fascinated with a ramshackle looking gas station you’re walking by.

Why is starting a conversation with him so difficult? Maybe the two of you have nothing in common and you’re just blinded by your physical attraction to him. Conversations are supposed to be effortless, right? That’s how you gauge attraction to someone. Everyone else you’ve either liked or crushed on had conversations flow pretty easily. But with Seonghwa, you’re so caught up in the intensity of the attraction and the depth of longing that your brain seems to stall like the bus earlier.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Seonghwa observes, startling you from your brooding, “Are you naturally quiet or do I make you nervous?”

Surprised, you stop walking. Seonghwa notices after a couple of steps, hesitating and then turning around to face you. It is at the point in time that the sign for the gas station flicks on, bathing Seonghwa in red and yellow light. On anyone else, it would look garish. But Seonghwa’s black hair soaks it up, and the neon drapes across him like a luxurious blanket.

“Why would you make me nervous?” You deflect, worried that he has figured out you have a gigantic crush on him.

“I’m sorry, I was just teasing. I don’t actually think I -” A car drives by blasting music at an obnoxious volume, drowning out whatever Seonghwa said after.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said that I don’t actually think I make you nervous,” He bites his bottom lip for a moment and then leans forward.

Rooted to the spot, you can only stare at Seonghwa as he brings his hand up –

To brush something off your shoulder. Your stomach swoops, locking eyes with him. He studies your face for a moment, his gaze lingering a beat too long on your lips.

“You had a stray leaf on your shoulder,” He remarks softly. It should be impossible to hear him over the cars driving by yet somehow you do and it feels intimate. “Are you cold? You’re trembling a bit,” Another pause and then, “Unless I do make you nervous.”

“Why would you make me nervous?” You say quickly, too quickly and Seonghwa’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment before it dawns on you that he is just teasing again.

Somehow more flustered than before, you take off walking again. Your cheeks are warm and the cold does nothing to help. Seonghwa catches up with you.

“Sorry, I was just – I was just kidding. I don’t mean to joke so much, it’s just a sort of defense mechanism –”

Confused, you immediately go, “For what?”

He falls silent, avoiding your gaze. The two of you walk past a restaurant that is bustling with the Friday night crowd and the scent of food makes your stomach grumble. A breeze kicks up, ruffling the ribbon around Seonghwa’s delicate neck when he finally replies.

“Well, I just see you every day. At the bus stop and on the ride home. We sit near one another. But I don’t know you at all. You just feel familiar, you know? I guess cuz I see you every day. I want to make a good impression on you and I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

His words take you by surprise. The honesty in his words is evident by the way he can’t seem to look at you. But you relax a bit, comforted by the fact that you aren’t the only one feeling flustered.

“You could fall in front of me and it wouldn’t be embarrassing,” You remark, pointing to the sidewalk, “I mean, really just eat shit with your bag flying in the air and spilling everywhere. And it wouldn’t be embarrassing.”

At this, Seonghwa laughs and shakes his head. “Now you’re lying. You would definitely laugh!”

“Whoa, I didn’t say that I wouldn’t laugh. I just meant you wouldn’t have to be embarrassed,” Your tone softens, “There’s no pressure besides what we place on ourselves. I mean…I feel nervous talking to you too.”

The two of you stop at a crosswalk, the don’t walk sign flashing as the cars zoom by. Seonghwa looks at you steadily.

“How come?” He asks.

“Well, it’s like you said. I see you every day. It’s like you’re a familiar face but I don’t actually know you. What if I make an ass out of myself and I have to see you on the bus every evening?”

Okay, fine. You’re lying a bit. Yeah, your concern is real. But a huge reason for your nerves is that you’ve been crushing on him for so long. To suddenly be talking to Seonghwa, having him tease you, taking a walk home with him – it is a lot. You don’t want to mess anything up.

The traffic stops, the light changes and the two of you cross the street as Seonghwa goes, “If anything goes sideways, I’ll…sit at the back or something so you don’t have to see me. We’ll make it as easy as possible.”

“That won’t help. I’ll just feel you back there, staring at me.”

“You think I sit around and stare at you while on the bus?”

You are about to be embarrassed but this time you catch Seonghwa’s tone and point at him. “You’re teasing me again.”

Seonghwa grins and shrugs. “Maybe a little.” That is when your stomach grumbles again, louder this time and he notices. He slows down, scanning the places around you. “Want to grab something to eat?”

Why has the universe decided to gift you with (almost) every one of your fantasies in one evening?

“Sure,” You say, “I haven’t eaten since lunch. Didn’t think I’d be walking home today.”

“What about that place over there?”

He points to a small nondescript place that seems to have less of a crowd than the other restaurants. You nod in agreement and in the next few minutes, the two of you arrive, are seated and looking at the menus. The place has a few people inside, mostly couples, and between the dim lighting and candles on each table, it dawns on you that this place is where you’d go on a date. But there’s no way Seonghwa would have known that when he picked it, you think sternly, so don’t get any ideas.

As Seonghwa is engrossed in the menu, you pretend to be studying yours. In reality, you are sneaking glances of him. Some of his black hair has fallen in front of his eyes, his lips parted slightly as he focuses on the menu. Your eyes linger on the ribbon around his neck. There is a brief vivid mental image of giving it a sharp tug and pulling him in to kiss you.

The picture jolts you to look away and stare at the menu instead. Of course, you’ve admired Seonghwa on the bus for awhile now. To say you haven’t thought about what it would be like to kiss him…and more…would be a lie. But you’ve been trying not to think about that stuff since he’s started talking to you out of paranoia it will show all over your face.

But now you are aware of Seonghwa’s gaze shifting. His eyes are on you, he is studying your face. You pretend not to notice. If it were anyone else on the planet, you would entertain the idea that this person is interested in you. But it feels too good to be true that Seonghwa, formally known as Bus Crush, would be attracted to you.

You raise your eyes a little, catching his stare. He immediately looks embarrassed, biting his bottom lip and looking at the menu as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Your stomach swoops. Somehow, his earlier teasing no longer seems like it is a defense mechanism but an indication of something more.

The server comes by for your drink orders. Seonghwa orders a simple coffee. When the server leaves, he leans back in his seat. Another mental image: you’re in his lap, kissing him as his hands press against your lower back. You brush it away quickly, begging your brain to control itself.

But it is proving difficult. Seonghwa, in his chic outfit combined with his pretty features, is proving too beautiful to be around for this long. Your thighs clench at the idea of him touching you. See, this was why he had always remained a crush. You’re quickly losing control of yourself around him.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” The denial rolls off your tongue too hastily, “Sorry, did I look spaced?”

“You were staring at me.”

“I was not.”

Your body is hot all over. You wish he would stop looking at you like that. But then you also wish he would never stop looking at you like that. His arm is outstretched along the back of booth, one leg crossed. The position is casual, one that people sit in constantly. But on Seonghwa, there is something sensual about it. Maybe it is the way the shirt rests against his chest, those two buttons undone and winking coyly in the restaurant lighting. Or maybe it is the manner in which his other hand rests on the table, painted fingernails tapping lightly against the menu. It could even be that ribbon around his neck that is begging to be pulled on. Whatever the reason, you’re distantly aware that you are turned on just from being around him.

The server brings the drinks over. Seonghwa leans forward, his hands curling around the warm coffee mug. You feel something brush against your leg underneath the table. With a jolt, you realize it is Seonghwa pressing his leg against yours. Your breath catches.

Seonghwa lowers his voice to a whisper, “I only noticed because I’m staring too.”

Then he leans back once more, blowing on his coffee to cool it off as if he isn’t flirting with you, as if he isn’t making your head spin.

His leg remains against yours the entire meal.

After dinner, the walk resumes. The temperature has dropped considerably. As the two of you turn away from the main hub of the city and into the residential districts, the noise of the cars and people in the bars and restaurants begins to fade.

At some point, Seonghwa has looped his arm around your waist to pull you close.

“It’s cold,” He remarks while doing so even though his body feels warm enough to you, “I didn’t bring a jacket today.”

Your brain is too muddled to speak and you opt for silence. There is something pleasant about being this close to Seonghwa, almost making you feel delirious with desire.

Seonghwa is in the middle of telling you a story involving him and his best friend, Hongjoong, who is his roommate as well. His tone is bright, occasionally laughing as he recalls the events. You listen attentively, finding comfort in the lull and pitch of his voice.

There is also something else that is bubbling to the surface since dinner: tension. You can feel it in the way Seonghwa held the door open for you while exiting the restaurant, the weight of his hand lightly touching the curve of your lower back when a group of people clustered the sidewalk, in every glance he shoots your way and the way you’re pulled together now. It seems absurd and too good to be true to believe the attraction is mutual but the last thing you plan to do is look good fortune in the mouth and refute it.

You’re almost at your apartment now. Neither of you remarks that it would have technically been faster to wait for the bus once the time for dinner is included. But perhaps it was never about what was going to be quicker. Maybe it was just about finding an excuse to be around one another because it is looking as though you weren’t the only one with a bus crush.

“It’s this way,” You say after Seonghwa finishes up the story.

The apartment complex is two stories, unremarkable in its appearance. Your place is on the bottom floor, all the way to the right. There are no lights on which means your roommate is still too swept up in her new boyfriend. She tends to spend every weekend with him.

Stopping in front of the door, you turn to face Seonghwa who has shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Are you dreaming or are his cheeks slightly pink? It could just be from the cold or it could be because he’s thinking along the same path as you.

“Thanks for walking me home. And for dinner,” You hesitate, wondering if you’re going to take the leap. That’s typically unlike you but given the way the night has unfolded…

“It’s no problem. Thanks for keeping me company,” Seonghwa replies.

You swallow nervously and then go, “My roommate is gone for the weekend. She’s at her boyfriends,” The words linger in the air and you mentally push yourself off the cliff, “Do you wanna come inside?”

Something sparks behind Seonghwa’s eyes, a look of half surprise and half desire. “Y-yeah, I’d like that. I mean, to warm up. Before I walk back home.”

“Right, of course. It’s chilly out here,” You turn your back to him, unlocking the door and exhaling slowly.

You can hardly believe that the week started with Seonghwa just being your crush to now standing in the living room of your tiny apartment. He looks so out of place, standing there in his stylish clothes like some sort of elegant prince as he gingerly places his bag on the coffee table.

“Do you want something to drink?” You offer, looking to fill the silence that threatens to shift back to some sort of awkwardness.

“Oh, some water, thanks.”

He trails after you into the kitchen which is so small that it can barely fit both you and Seonghwa. You wonder if your nerves are evident; you’ve never invited someone in before with the expressed intention of making a move. But even though you’re good at ignoring signs that someone might be interested, it feels impossible to ignore the signals Seonghwa has given you all night.

You turn around to hand him the glass of water which he takes a sip of. He is close enough to touch and the warmth radiating from his body is making your thoughts muddled. When Seonghwa puts the glass down carefully on the counter, he trails one finger along the rim slowly. His gaze on you is heavy and when he swallows, the ribbon bobs slightly. It’s enough to push you over the edge.

Reaching upwards, you grab onto the ribbon, tugging on it so hard that it brings Seonghwa towards your body. He presses against you, his gasp muffled as your lips crush his. The kiss is like an electric shock in a rain shower – you can feel it from the top of your scalp to the tip of your toes. It wipes out everything that came before it: all the sneaky glances on the bus, all the times you admired his appearance, the small touch when you took your phone from him, down to the way he looked at you during dinner.

Seonghwa’s hands wrap around your waist as the kiss deepens. He tastes faintly like coffee and the scent of his faded cologne is enough to make your head swim. The desire that you have so carefully kept locked away in all the months of admiring him threatens to topple over and spill out across all your senses, blocking rational thought.

Seonghwa pulls away, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing has grown heavy as if the sheer force of the kiss has knocked him off kilter. You want to reassure him that the feeling is mutual but your tongue isn’t working properly.

“Do I make you nervous?” He echoes his words from earlier, his voice barely above a whisper.

“At first, yeah. Right now, no.” Your fingers trail down along the buttons of his shirt, feeling their coldness against your skin.

“Why not?”

You can feel him growing hard in his pants against your leg and your hand travels downward, grazing across the fabric. Seonghwa sharply inhales, eyes closing for a moment as you rub his cock through his pants.

“Cuz I think we both want the same thing,” You murmur, marveling at how you’re not lying – the earlier nerves and anxieties about him have vanished in the intensity of your desire and realizing he is also interested.

He brings his face to your neck, kissing along your skin. Each touch is as soft as a feather, making you shiver. Seonghwa nips at your neck lightly with his teeth as you press your hand down harder against his groin. He moves his lips up to your ear so he can whisper.

“Like I said earlier, anything goes sideways, I’ll sit at the back. You won’t have to see me.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

You can feel Seonghwa smile against your skin before his lips find yours again. This kiss is deeper, his tongue in your mouth while his hands slide down to grip your ass. As the kissing grows more urgent, the two of you are stumbling towards the bedroom now. Luckily, your room is right next to the kitchen, making it a quick escape into your slightly messy room.

But if Seonghwa notices that not everything is as organized as it should be, he doesn’t seem to care. His hands are roaming across your body, each touch deadened by your clothes. The next kiss, you bite down slightly on his bottom lip which makes him groan. The sound is like music, making you want more of it, more of him.

It wasn’t that you’re submissive in bed, it’s that you’ve been mostly alright with someone else taking the lead. But with Seonghwa, the dynamic is something new to you. Your earlier nerves have been replaced by such an overwhelming need for him that you find it easier to take charge. But Seonghwa follows without question, leading you to believe he isn’t one to take the lead to begin with. Better for you then.

Seonghwa removes your shirt, his hands deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it to the side. He cups your tits, squeezing them in his large, warm hands. Grazing his thumbs across your nipples, he brings his face forward and flicks his tongue across them. You run your hands through his hair as he does so, sucking on each one as if his life depended on it.

When he finally stops, he kisses you again. This time, it is messy and slightly frantic as if the desire you both feel is not being sated even with the touches between one another. You are tugging the belt off his pants impatiently. Seonghwa gets the idea and removes them swiftly, his boxers following. His cock is rock hard, precum glistening at the tip, his balls already full with cum. The sight is enough to make you drool.

You fumble with the buttons on his shirt but its taking too long. You make a noise of impatience after one button is unclasped. Seonghwa brushes your hands away and starts to undo the buttons – but even that is too slow and he looks annoyed.

“I should’ve thought about my outfit more today but I didn’t think that this was how the day would end,” He mumbles, slight amusement evident in his voice.

After what feels like eternity, Seonghwa shrugs out of his shirt, not caring as it lands on the floor. Naked in front of you, it hits your brain then that you’re actually going to fuck this man, the guy you’ve been admiring for ages. You run your fingers along his taunt stomach, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

When Seonghwa goes to remove the ribbon around his neck though, you shake your head and his hands fall. You can’t explain why you want the ribbon to stay on but you just do. There is something nice about how it looks delicately wrapped around his slender neck. Once an accent to a stylish outfit, now it seems dirty to leave it on as the only thing adorning him. Something must show on your face because Seonghwa looks a little bashful.

You gently push on his chest, indicating to get on the bed. You want to ride him, feel him buckle underneath you as his cock fills up your cunt. Against the pillows, Seonghwa strokes his cock, watching as you remove the rest of your clothes.

Then you crawl onto the bed, stopping to move his hand away from his cock so that you can drag your tongue along his length. He grunts softly from the sudden pleasure as you take him in your mouth. He tastes like all your fantasies did and the way he fills your mouth with his girth is pleasing. Your lips are wrapped around the head of his cock, pressing your tongue against the tip. You bring one hand to his balls to fondle them, eliciting another groan of approval from Seonghwa.

You stop then, not because you want to, but because your need to have him balls deep in your cunt is overwhelming. Straddling him, you position his head at your entrance and take Seonghwa easily from how wet you are. He curses quietly as sink down on his cock, lost in the warmth of your hole wrapped around him. Pressing your hands against his chest, you lean forward slightly to adjust the angle and begin to move your hips.

Bouncing on his cock, you look down at Seonghwa underneath you. He looks as pretty as ever, you think, admiring him while taking his length deep in your cunt. His cheeks are flushed, eyes hazy with desire, lips parted as he moans.

Reaching forward, your hand curls around the ribbon, giving you something to hold onto. Seonghwa grunts in approval. The speed in which you bounce increases and with each thrust downward of your hips, you pull on the ribbon a little. This seems to drive Seonghwa wild because his eyes close tightly, his ragged gasp sounding just as pretty as he looks.

Eventually, you can’t put off your orgasm anymore. You lean back, resting your hands on his knees to try to take him faster and harder. Your head rolls back from pleasure, moaning out Seonghwa’s name. His hips jerk upwards, his hands holding onto your waist. With him holding you steady, you bring one hand forward to rub your clit. Strange to think just a few hours ago, you were waiting to see if Seonghwa would sit next to you on the bus. Now you’re taking his cock.

The thought combined with him buried inside you and your fingers against your clit begins your climax. Bucking your hips down to take all of Seonghwa, you cum, tightening around his girth. His fingers dig into your hips as he bites down hard on his bottom lip. You know he is trying not to cum along with you.

Your entire body is warm and tingling from the intense orgasm but you manage to slide off Seonghwa. He doesn’t waste any time in getting on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist and sliding back into your cunt.

Your hands find the ribbon once again, pulling hard on it so that he kisses you again. This kiss is all drool, lust and muffled curses as Seonghwa pumps his hips, driving his cock into you hard and fast. Each movement rocks your body, your arms wrapping around his neck to draw him as close as possible. You move your hips as best as you can to meet his thrusts which are already erratic.

“In me,” You tell him in a pleading tone, “Finish in me.”

Seonghwa pants, picking up his speed, needing to climax. Your hands are in his hair, your body entwined with his. His full balls smack against you with every thrust, endless curse words toppling from his mouth as his orgasm quickly approaches. He is desperate to cum now, burying his face in your neck as he chases his climax.

And then he goes still, letting out a moan that is muffled against your skin. Seonghwa shudders as he begins his orgasm, his cock spilling his cum in your hole, filling you up with its warmth, coating your walls. He is panting as he empties his balls in you. You idly play with the ribbon around his neck as he finishes until he carefully pulls out and flops onto his back.

Between all the walking and now the sex, exhaustion tugs on your brain. It is a little past eight at night, way too early to go to bed but your body refuses to listen. As your eyelids grow heavy, the last thing you think of is that you’re going to fall asleep next to Seonghwa.

Saturday

You jolt awake, confused and desperately needing some water. Propping yourself up, you groggily reach for your phone only to realize it’s not on the bedside table. How long have you been sleeping? It is still dark outside.

Something shifts in your bed. You turn to the side and see Seonghwa there, sleeping on his side, his back to you. The memory wipes all the sleep still clinging to your brain as you remember the bus breaking down, walking for ages with him, having dinner and then fucking him like crazy.

Not wanting to wake Seonghwa up, you carefully slide out of bed, padding into the kitchen to get some water. The clock says it’s nearing one in the morning. Talk about fucking up my sleeping schedule, you think, taking note of how awake you feel.

When you come back into the bedroom, Seonghwa is rubbing his eyes groggily, sitting up a little. He had tossed the sheet over his lower half at some point during the night, leaving just his chest exposed. The sight of him with his messy hair, looking fucked out in your bed, is enough to make your mind spin.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I had been already kinda waking up when I heard you get up,” He says, accepting the glass of water when you extend it to him before getting back in bed, “What time is it?”

“A little after one.”

He sighs. “I’ve totally fucked up my sleeping schedule.”

You laugh, “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

Seonghwa finishes the entire glass, putting it on the bedside table and then turning his attention to you. The room is dark, the only light from the tiny nightlight you have near the door.

“Well,” He says softly, “I can think of worse ways to mess up my sleeping schedule.”

Seonghwa brings his hand to your thigh, leaning forward and kissing you. The touch is soft, as if he isn’t sure if you would still want him after fucking earlier. You return the kiss eagerly but then break it off to laugh quietly.

“What?” He asks, looking worried.

You reach up for the ribbon around his neck, untying it. “I just realized you still had this on.”

Seonghwa looks sheepish. “I have to admit I’ve never utilized my fashion accessories in sex before.”

“And what did you think?”

“I think I need more ribbons.”

You laugh again as Seonghwa cups your face with one hand, grazing your cheek with his thumb. He draws you in for another kiss, his other hand roaming down your body. The desire stirs and awakens with the touch, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him down as you sink back into the pillows.

Seonghwa shifts so that he is on top of you. The kiss deepens, he grows stiff against your thigh. Instinctively, you curl your legs around his waist, silently pleading for him to fuck you back to sleep. All your senses are consumed by Seonghwa; all you want is to have him inside you once again.

But he teases you, refusing to enter right away. Instead, he moves his hips to grind his cock against your pussy while nipping at your lips with his teeth. You grow wet at the movements, your fingers digging into his skin in an attempt to urge him on.

Your tongue is in his mouth, your body pressed against him so that you’re skin to skin, and your need for Seonghwa is overwhelming. It is like a hot current in your blood, fizzling just underneath the surface. And just when you think you’re going to crack and beg, Seonghwa enters in one swift motion, filling you up just how you need.

Your moans topple into his mouth as he rocks his hips a little, just enough to hear how wet you are wrapped around his length. Then he untangles himself from you, bringing your feet to rest on his shoulders as he picks up his pace. His hips jerk hard, driving his cock all the way inside your cunt. The angle somehow feels better than fucking him earlier did.

And Seonghwa looks good, his hair a sleepy mess, moaning and cursing, skin slightly flushed. You like the way his slender waist moves as he fucks you, his pumps steady and increasing speed as the pleasure grows. He brings one hand down and pinches your nipple, switching to the other one when your moan lets him know you like it before grabbing your tits in both hands and squeezing them.

Seonghwa doesn’t stop fucking you. Even though it is late and you should keep in mind your neighbor is trying to sleep, the two of you are making too much noise. Each jerk of his hips slaps his balls against your skin, Seonghwa cursing when it feels too good, mixing with your own loud moans.

He leans forward then, his hands next to each side of your head, and your legs falling back around his waist. He doesn’t slow his pace, his tongue poking out from in between his plush lips as he fucks your cunt. You lean forward, your mouth crushing his. Seonghwa is practically drooling and the kiss is messy, a strand of spit connecting your mouths when it ends.

He shivers, his eyes closing tightly as his orgasm draws near. You urge him to cum, tell him how much you want to feel him unload in you again and the words push him over the edge. Seonghwa grunts, thrusting one final time as he finishes in your tight hole. For the second time in a few hours, he fills your cunt up with his load. Somehow, there is even more than before and when he pulls out, you can feel it leaking from your cunt.

Seonghwa doesn’t say anything but he moves downward, grabbing your hips as he buries his face in between your thighs. He holds your hips downward so that your pussy is against his face. His tongue begins to rapidly flick across your swollen clit. The pleasure is sudden and intense. Your hand goes to his hair for something to hold onto, your other hand gripping the bed sheets. Seonghwa doesn’t stop and the sounds of him slurping and sucking on your clit are pornographic. You are still filled with his cum as he does so and that somehow makes it hotter.

It doesn’t take long to bring you to the peak. Your climax is intense and you wiggle underneath him. Your pussy grinds against his face and Seonghwa makes noises of pleasure, not stopping his expert licking of your clit. Your entire body tingles from the orgasm until you fall back onto the bed, breathless from how good it felt.

It is then Seonghwa pulls away, his pretty face covered in his own cum and yours. You are in a tired lump on the bed, eyes closing as you hear him pad out of the room to clean up. By the time he comes back, you’re already half asleep.

Seonghwa wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him gently. The touches are soft and gentle, and you relax into him. Your last thought is one of happiness that the bus broke down, leading you down this road with him. Now, everyday at the bus stop, he will be yours.

the end.

#ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fics #seonghwa smut #ateez fics #kpop fic #everyday at the bus stop #500 notes #1000 notes

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guillotine-drop · 1 month

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Rating POSTAL Dudes by how good they smell:

POSTAL - 9/10: I think his habitual reclusion and distrust of the world would probably mean he’s showering constantly, moreso than any other Dude, especially if he thinks there’s a ‘Hate Plague’ going on. I think he smells basic; very simple routine, just enough to make sure he feels clean, so at most he’ll smell like some generic 3-in-1 body wash and shampoo/conditioner, maybe something slightly nicer just for himself (some decent $15 aftershave for that menthol scent and cooling relief).

POSTAL Redux - 3/10: Exact opposite of his original incarnation, this greasy son of a bitch isn’t scared of shit he just wants to throw explosives at ostriches and parades. Barely showers, constantly stinks of stale sweat, old blood, cheap leather and cheaper cologne, punctuated with the scent of burnt gunpowder. Borderline noxious.

POSTAL 2 - 4/10: Smells just as bad as Redux Dude but gets the edge here because every now and then he goes outside and uses the neighbor’s hose to blast himself. Shockingly uses deodorant, still not enough to be perpetually leather and denim clad in the great state of Arizona. Almost constantly reeks of sweat and has the recognizable yet faint scent of stale piss wafting off of him, accompanied by the scent of even staler crack and pungent fast food. Almost pungent enough to drown the rest out. Almost.

POSTAL 3 - 2/10: If you were to raid the wash cart after a double overtime football game, steal every jockstrap in the place, wring the sweat into a bucket, and then bring it all to a boil, you’d have somewhere in the realm of what a clean P3 Dude smells like. On average, however, this man has managed to combine the overwhelming sensory nightmares of cat piss and cheap spray deodorant into an almost lethal concoction, ONLY made breathable by the strange and overpowering smell of gasoline that seems to seep from his pores. Approach with caution and for the love of god: do not bring bleach or matches near this freak.

POSTAL 4: No Regerts - 5/10: Despite looking like he crawled out of a dumpster after a bad divorce or a fantastic honeymoon, P4 Dude is shockingly passable in terms of being able to stand next to him for a prolonged period without gagging or killing him. Having learned the efficacy of not being encased in leather in the desert, he’s managed to bring his pungency down several notches. Still reeks of sweat most of the time, and the smell of burger grease and pepperoni follows him like a specter of death, but the piss scent stopped clinging on as hard. He’s also upgraded from hose showers with no supplies to sink baths with tiny gas station travel soaps. It’s an improvement, trust me.

Brain Damaged - 2/10: Take a look at his living space in the title screen, then watch the game’s cutscenes. Just soak it all in. Now that you’ve done that, you can understand that his rank ass smells exactly as bad as you might think it does. If it can come out of his body, it’s probably soaking some part of him. If you think any of the clothes on him have been washed, you’re wrong. This man smells like if someone firebombed an outhouse and pissed on it to put it out. The best thing for him would be getting blasted with a firehouse and a box of laundry detergent. Please.

The Other Dude - 1-10/10: Entirely depends on how the BD Dude would imagine he smells depending on the situation.

POOSTALL Dude - 6/10: Despite the name, this one actually smells pretty decent. The clearly larger coat with the rolled sleeves implies some level of understanding about how not to smell like swamp ass and sweat soaked leather, and truthfully, he looks like he bathes semi-regularly, a rarity amongst these guys.

POSTAL Doe - 9/10: I admit fully and entirely to my lack of impartiality to this one, but I’m willing to stand by it even if I lose my Stink Judge License: first of all, sleeveless leather trench coat AND a crop top mean less overheat which means less sweat. Second of all, visually cleaner than pretty much any of the dudes which implies some kind of self care regimen. Third, and most importantly, girlstink counts positive. I will not be turning in my badge or my gun.

Movie Dude - 8/10: This may be controversial, but despite the squalor he lives in and the fact that hems a cuckold and that his life sucks and that he can’t get a job and that he’s a loser- I digress. I think Movie Dude is in the top echelons of Dude Stink solely because I think he’d have a breakdown if he smelled bad. This man uses Dr. Teals. He stinks like a mix of eucalyptus and peppermint. If ever there was a Dude who had a skin routine, he still wouldn’t, but he’d definitely think about it one day. I think by the end he gets an extra point just because he gets a little hotter the more deranged he is. Overall very pleasant but I still wouldn’t give him $4.

John Murray - 2/10: Hasselridge seems to have a very… interesting relationship with what is and isn’t normal, so unsurprisingly, Johnny Boy would probably smell pretty rough. Considering how dingy, run down and shitty everything in that town appears to be, I can’t imagine anyone else is smelling like roses either. Just avoid the entire place, not least of all because of the zombie thing.

Shtopor - 0/10: Bad.

Nottem Portant - 5/10: Despite the misanthropy, dollar store Nathan Explosion thing and the absolutely abysmal gameplay, Mr. Hatred is actually extremely middle of the road on stink. Sure, he doesn’t smell great, but shockingly he washes his ass despite the whole ‘death to humanity’ thing. He does get point deduction for not washing his hair though, grease mop motherfucker.

#yeah dude #postal #postal dude #postal redux #postal 2 #postal 3 #postal 4 #postal brain damaged #poostall royale #postal movie #eternal damnation #corkscrew rules #hatred #I stand by most of these. your guess as to which one(s) is the outlier

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girlscoutbrownies · 5 months

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sbg headcanons!

(i had to put a title because it keeps just showing up as “aiden” in my notifs)

some of my favourite school bus graveyard headcanons! (in celebration of 101 followers) some are mine, some belong to other people that i’ve taken as well

these got really, really long so ill split it into two parts: aiden, tyler, and taylor for this post and ashlyn, ben, and logan will be in the next

——

aiden

(bit of a tw for disassociation around the end)

- uses he/any pronouns, he mostly doesn’t give a fuck. also doesn’t care if you stick to he/him because he likes it. he also tries out mirror pronouns every once in a while and flipflops between any

- unlabelled energy. also doesn’t care abt that type of stuff, but he’s asexual and it takes him a while to grow feelings. he’s afraid of letting people close to him but it really doesn’t matter to him, not that much. he’s pretty apathetic about it

- generally smells like shittily applied cedarwood cologne. it’s one of those cheap drugstore brands and sometimes he forgets to apply it in the morning, and he doesn’t spray it very well. also smells like grass sometimes

- his favourite subject is psychology/maths/anything logic based (he likes those puzzles). growing up with his bitchass karen mom who probably twisted all the words he said, he doesn’t like cryptic or vague language or poetry (english class) because it reminds him of her. in math, there’s only one answer. in english, there’s hundreds. also the words swim on the paper and he finds it hard to focus

- he has his ears pierced. he begged his parents to take him to an ear piercing studio they just ended up taking him to claire’s but he was still so happy about it

- he BEGGED for a dog or a pet when he was very little but eventually stopped at some point. he asked for stuffed animals and never got any because “it would be too hard to keep track of when we’re moving and you would lose them and get sad” and he’s still very upset about it. used to hug like three pillows when he slept

- he was told they were settling down in georgia and now his current room has millions of stuffed animals i will not hear any arguments about this

- he’s a kicker in his sleep (when he gets any). he kicks plushies off his bed like all the time, he’s not apologetic though he’s just like “oh shit”

- worst and best guy to have a sleepover with. super clingy

- he knows very few actual life skills other than operating a microwave for frozen meals because he largely grew up alone without his parental figures in his life. ashlyn and tyler eventually teach him how to cook

- his growth is stunted bc of that period in his life and he’s short like ashlyn

- he is a HORRIBLE gossip addict. they’ll be sitting at the lunch table eating in silence and he drops “did you hear that samantha’s parents are divorced and madison dropped her bc samantha’s mom doesn’t drive them to the mall anymore” like HUH WHERE DID YOU HEAR THIS?

- he gets school lunch and very rarely (if ever) brings lunch from home. sometimes ben makes him lunches

- plays with his food (this is canon) but he makes storylines out of whatever he does its like his personal roman empire

- big fan of extreme foods (spicy, sour, etc) ((he grew up eating plain ramen)) and loves weird food combinations. everyone always makes weird faces at him when theyre at the mall and he orders weird shit

- he doesn’t know proper meal etiquette until someone has to tell him, his parents didn’t teach him anything (I HATE THEM)

- he’s a really bad cook like ben because he always ends up getting distracted, and somehow manages to skip over steps in the recipes.

- he probably likes cooking shows though and is like “yeah i could do that” (he can’t do that)

- the first time someone (tyler) made aiden a homecooked meal he started cry laughing (it was mostly crying) (nobody talks about it)

- the few times his mom has made him meals whenever she’s home they’re really bad. they don’t taste anything like home, but he didn’t know what home tasted like so he just cried. his mom thought it was because of how good it was (it wasn’t) and he just cried harder

- he dislikes bitter flavours, especially like, orange juice that you make from scratch but you don’t put any sugar in it (it’s because his mom once tried to make homemade orange juice/lemonade to feel more like a “real mom” and it was horrible

- he’ll still eat bitter food though he just wouldn’t like it that much

- likes crunchy food or food that pops in your mouth (poprocks) bc he thinks its cool

- probably needs glasses from how long he’s spent staring at screens (his backstory)

- the one thing his parents consistently did as a kid was take him to his doctors appointments so he has stellar teeth

- he’s fit and fairly athletic (jumping off walls and all) but he doesn’t play sports because he just. isn’t interested in any of it. he tries everything but nothing really sticks that much

- he eats his greens but probably wouldn’t care much for the healthy vegan lifestyle, not that much of a picky eater (this part is canon)

- his favourite holiday is halloween because 1. candy (which he didn’t get much as a kid unless he specifically asked for it or ben brought it over) and 2. he loves dressing up it’s so fun to him

- understimulation is the BANE of his existence he genuinely wants to tear out his own hair every time he gets like that. gets really irritated

- he disassociates a lot, generally experiences a lot of derealization. he doesn’t feel like he’s in his own body sometimes

- insomniac

- chases thrills so that he can “feel” something. doesn’t care if it hurts him or not, because at least then he’ll remember he’s a real person and that his life matters

- really bad at telling when people are lying/are irritated with him. he just keeps pushing until they explode

- good with secrets (his own) but isn’t good at deflecting if asked about someone else’s. he’s just like “ummm. would u look over there. a bird!”

- runs really fast, he wakes up early in the morning to take a walk around the neighborhood. he sometimes encounters tyler if he happens to go into his city (which is often, because he doesn’t like being in his house)

- his house is always really cold, which is why he tends to run really warm (his body is compensating). he knows how to turn the ac off, but it always ends up turning back on in the middle of the night

- he grew up learning The Gifted Child instrument; the piano. he dislikes classical music (he says it’s boring but it’s because of this). he also almost got forced to learn the violin but he once practiced so hard his fingers started bleeding which is how he got out of it

- likes verbal validation bc his parents never told him they were proud of him

taylor

- she/they cis demigirl, gets a bit upset at being misgendered though (people think she’s the transfem twin because tyler passes really well)

- bisexual fem pref

- decorates her locker for almost every occasion. halloween, christmas, easter, birthdays. also decorates other people’s lockers for their birthdays before school starts with sticky notes

- has tons of stuff in her locker (except food because tyler won’t let her) just in case anyone needs anything but she’s not very organized so she doesn’t know where anything is

- because of this she’s one of those people that barely makes it to the door before the bell rings but she’s trying to fix that habit

- enjoys crime documentaries/true crime, horror stuff. used to make tyler watch with her but his anxiety gets really bad and he started getting paranoid

- adores christmas bc it’s a family holiday she makes tyler and her mom homemade gifts every year

- loves dogs with every bone in her body she asks santa for one every year but alas. tyler always has to write “a letter from santa” back saying they ran out of dogs at the north pole

- uses emoticons like “:D :] :3” all the time when she types, downloaded a bunch of sticker packs too. especially cat ones

- had her future all planned out as a kid and told her dad she’d be a mechanical engineer and build trains and rockets to bring him places when he started getting really sick and couldn’t move anymore

- her hair is actually kind of dry (compared to aiden’s or ashlyn’s) because they couldn’t afford great shampoo or anything

- has an ehh skincare routine and doesn’t care much for her fashion sense, just wears whatever’s comfortable

- knows a lot of random facts as conversation starters, she’s surprisingly good at small talk ( + comforting people)

- gossips with aiden aallll the time bc she’s super sociable and knows lots of people who tell her secrets. she doesn’t tell any of the important ones but just little drama things

- her and aiden are bffs

- really likes kids because they’re funny, she has a big imagination like them so it’s easy for her to play with them

- she’s a swiftie and whenever someone asks her if she likes taylor swift as a joke bc of her name she says “i like all music!” (she loves tswift)

- really likes sweets over most types of food, she’s healing her inner child guys

- has always ALWAYS wanted to go to a circus/carnival/festival when she was younger, but they couldn’t afford tickets. she still has that dream but she obviously has bigger priorities now…

tyler

- transmale he/him

- doesn’t care that much about dating, he actually doesn’t think about it that much until he meets The Gang. he always too busy taking care of his family to bother with relationships

- dislikes heavy meals, eats in small portions. it’s a habit

- used to be a picky eater but isn’t anymore, when he was younger they struggled to put food on the table so

- he’s like tigris from ballad of songbirds and snakes; when he prepared food for the family he’d eat bits and pieces of it while cooking. eats raw meat sometimes but once got sick from it so never again because he doesn’t want people taking care of him

- he HATES being sick. HATES HATES HATES it, hates having to burden people

- stress cooks because he likes having things to do with his hands. he also runs laps/paces around when he’s stressed

- runs his hands through his hair so it’s always messy

- he doesn’t bother combing his hair unless it’s for a special occasion like the first day of school, he just doesn’t care that much

- gets up early like aiden to keep up his physical fitness, doesn’t stray far though because his mom wakes up around the same time he does

- is VERY punctual. will be furious if someone makes plans and then is late. always arrives somewhere like, fifteen minutes early. he’s trying to break taylor’s habit of being late

- occasionally scolds taylor about how messy her locker is

- is extremely (and kind of scarily) meticulous. clean backpack, clean locker, clean room. it’s a habit

- book smart and figures things out pretty easily. he has an internal computer inside his head i swear. latches onto concepts very quickly

- likes math because he’s good at memorizing concepts but biology is his worst enemy, he gets queasy very easily

- motion sickness

- doesn’t actually have a set plan for the future, other than “help his family.” will probably do something related to sports (sports scholarship) or will do something math/analytical related

- spams people when they don’t respond to him but quits eventually (semicanon)

- has some sort of separation anxiety i swear he does

- keeps every single promise he makes because he hates broken promises (his dad told him he’d be fine and out of the hospital soon), he also doesn’t make a lot of promises

- dislikes nicknames like “champ” and “buddy”

- he’s ambidextrous

- he always seems to be like, tense? can’t relax at all. it might be because of his anxiety (HE HAS ANXIETY)

- only ever relaxes if he’s at home

- rarely watches television, he says it’s a waste of time (he always gets distracted and gets up and goes to do something else) he can leave it in the background though

- i think he has chronic pain, i don’t know where but i just think he does. everything just aches sometimes and he’s so young fuck life

- he’s okay with kids like his sister, not as good as her but he’ll take care of them (habit x37362828) he’d probably say everything really monotone though “there’s santa claus, wow.”

- he and taylor both have a pretty strong southern accent from living in middle of nowhere georgia (i think someone made an art post on this a while back :D)

- is really bad at video games because he gets frustrated easily

- he grinds his teeth when he sleeps and has jaw pain what a loser

#sbg #aiden rambles #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard (webtoon)#headcanons #sbg headcanons #aiden clark #taylor hernandez #tyler hernandez #i didnt think these would get so long… help…#let me know if they’re inaccurate or if youd like to disagree i would /gen love to hear :D

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southangel · 2 months

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hii i love your works sm!! i hope ur doing well ^^ i requested a previous work of yours (stan+kenny w a s/o whos afraid of the dark) and i really loved it <33 could you pls do kenny nsfw alphabet?

also im not sure if you do emoji anons but if so can i pls be ⚡️ - anon ? (if not pls js feel free to ignore lol)

Kenny Mccormick NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: nsfw, MDNI

Notes: Ahh thank you SO much for the compliment!! I do have emoji anons, so i’ll put you down as ⚡️ anon! Credits to original alphabet layout in my introduction.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

I think that after sex, Kenny would be pretty energetic or at least not knock-out tried.

Not energetic to go another round, but enough to get you both washed up and comfortable.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kenny’s favorite body part of his would be his hands, He loves how he can do so much with them.

His favorite body part of yours would probably be your ass.

Kenny could care less at the size, he loves your ass and everything about it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically...)

I see Kenny as a messy person, kind of.

When it comes to cum, he either wants it to be inside of you or on you, preferably the front of your body.

His cum is a little thin, definitely stains easily.

Kenny probably doesn’t like the hassle of having to clean his sheets every time, so that’s probably why he does that.

He wouldn’t care where it would have gotten otherwise.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Kenny would get turned on by the smell of whatever perfume or cologne you use, fragrance in general.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Definitely experienced, no doubt about it.

Kenny doesn’t know if he would call himself experienced though, or know what he’s doing.

To him, he thinks that being experienced should be to know exactly what you like and don’t.

Kenny can’t know what he’s doing when he doesn’t know these things yet.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Kenny probably likes multiple positions, so he can’t really decide.

His favorites would consist of doggy style and cowgirl, but he would also like the classic missionary.

He doesn’t care what positions you do, as long as he can kiss your face while having eye contact with you easily.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Definitely more goofy than serious.

Kenny doesn’t find a point in being so serious when he knows this is going to happen between you two multiple more times.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Pretty well groomed, I don’t think Kenny really has anything going on down there so there isn’t much to say.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

Kenny can definitely be romantic.

I did say that he was goofy, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t be romantic.

He wants this time between you two to be the most attractive moment you’ve had together, nothing less.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Honestly, I don’t think he would jack off all the time.

The only time I see Kenny jacking off like that is if he’s desperate and hasn’t seen you in a while.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I actually think that Kenny doesn’t have many kinks, he just wants to please you.

That’s probably why I see him with a praise kink, he wants to know that he’s doing good and that you’re happy with him.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Literally anywhere.

Kenny isn’t ashamed, if he feels like it, then he will.

Probably gets really mad when you tell him it isn’t going to happen on the bus.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, just seeing you is already enough to get Kenny up and going.

It’s only because as soon as he sees you, his mind goes wild and starts thinking of various things.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Kenny is always open to new things, sexual or not.

The one thing he’ll never do is experimenting with things that cause pain, especially for you.

He doesn’t want to get harmed, but harming you hurts more.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Kenny prefers to give, especially after how much he had probably annoyed you with his teasing.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love receiving, though.

He really wouldn’t mind if you woke up one day and decided to give him a blowjob.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Kenny is more in between, but he leans towards fast and rough.

His pace can vary though depending on how he’s feeling.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Loves quickies, no question about it.

Kenny will do it anytime and anywhere, does not matter at all.

He does prefer proper sex though, just so that he can really take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Kenny is all open to experimenting.

As I said earlier, he’s fine with doing anything you want to, as long as there’s no harm involved.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

Most he can go is 2-3 rounds.

If Kenny has an extra burst of energy, he could maybe go for another 1-2 rounds if he wants to.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Kenny probably has toys somewhere in his room, but he doesn’t use them often.

He doesn’t use them on himself, they’re mainly only for you.

Kenny refrains from using a blindfold most times, only because he really likes seeing your eyes:

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot. Definitely teases you a lot.

Kenny finds it amusing when you get mad at him for teasing, it just riles him up more.

The only way to really stop him is either tease back or act unfazed.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Kenny is already a pretty quiet kid, until he starts talking.

I dont think this really applies during sex though as he would be in the middle, leaning towards louder sounds.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Kenny is the type of guy to jack off to your own clothing instead of photos:

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Kenny ranges from about 4.9 inches, 12.5 centimeters.

When he’s hard, he can definitely gain a few extra inches.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high sex drive, will never be on the low scale.

Kenny is almost always active, almost.

There are days where he just wants to do nothing.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Definitely doesn’t fall asleep quickly.

The sleepiness would probably affect Kenny an hour later, maybe even more.

“You can’t be that tired already.. Let’s go for more!”

#south park x reader #south park #south park x y/n #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny x reader #south park smut

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setsugekka · 1 year

Text

『paradise lost』 ; 10

❝ chasing ❞

↳ the night of hongjoong’s gallery open lends itself to the confronting of a lot of feelings, and the opening up of a lot of feelings.

but maybe lends itself to a lot of healing, as well.

⎯ ୨previous୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨series mlist୧ ⎯

『 pairing 』 : kim hongjoong x fem!reader

『 genre 』 : romance, angst, explicit sexual content.

『 rating 』 : mature

『 word count 』 : 13.7k

『 warnings 』 : angst, self-reflection, working through feelings and tough conversations that allow for that, smut :)

San's hand delicately winding around your waist from behind, hand starting from the small of your back and slowly making its way around before stilling on your front, reminds you of the caring touch of a lover’s — kindness and adoration in every inch of movement across your body — closing your eyes to take it in with a slow but heavy inhale, as the two of you stand in front of the full length mirror that lies propped up against the wall just next to your bedroom door, you open your eyes again to take in the visual of San standing behind you, eyes locked on one another before he settles his chin onto the exposed skin of your shoulder.

He smells of cheap, generic, cologne, but you appreciate the thought that goes into it all of the same.

“It's gonna be fine,” he says with absolute positivity in his tone. “I'll be there, Wooyoung will be there, it'll be fine.”

You only hum in response, brushing the palms of your hands over the dress that you bought just for this very occasion, this evening — a Thursday evening. San removing his hand from you so that you can carry on primping yourself in front of the mirror, you watch him saunter over towards the large, burgundy chair in the corner of your bedroom — plopping himself onto it with a huff as if a child waiting for his mother to finish with her errands.

“Do I look okay?” you can't help but ask.

“You know you do,” he responds with a smile — raven black hair slicked back and off of his forehead, a hairstyle you suggested for him and due largely in part because of how well Wooyoung wears it — you certainly were correct in the assumption.

And you're a little taken aback by how well San cleans up, you have to admit. All black everything, but perfectly fitted button down shirt and dress slacks — a man you're used to seeing in ripped up jeans that he's probably owned since he was a teenager and a brown, coffee stained apron showing off the trials and tribulations of business ownership, part of you couldn't help but wonder how it might look showing up to an event such as this with a man such as him.

Would Hongjoong think you to be showing off? Trying to make him jealous?

“Hoping to get someone's attention?” San rings out, one corner of his lips pulling upward slyly, knowing damn well what he's doing.

You have half a mind to throw something, anything, his way from across the room.

“No! But I don't want to show up looking like a slob, either,” you pause, looking into the reflection of the mirror again, taking in all of the fine details of your appearance before finishing the thought. “It's important.”

“You don't have to lie to me, it's fine,” he answers back, the roll of his eyes so dramatic you catch it out of the corner of your eye. You opt to sigh instead of attempting to offer him another fib.

Standing again, San makes his way across the hardwood floor of your room to take position where he was only a few minutes prior — this time hands placing themselves on your arms and pulling them from yourself, as if forcing you to stop obsessing over every wrinkle or spec of dust that dare to find itself out of place in your sight. You sigh at the touch, finding comfort in it, before allowing your eyes to make contact with San once again.

“How do you know it'll be fine?”

A single huff of amusement through his nose at the question, he gently squeezes you in acknowledgment of the question before pulling you out from in front of the mirror and down the hall into the kitchen. You watch him in silence as he makes his way through the space — opening one cupboard, then closing it. Another, and then closing it, before finally happening to stumble upon the one it is that he's looking for. Two wine glasses in hand and setting them down on the counter between the both of you, San raises his eyebrows at you before turning back the other way and grabbing one of the two bottles of red wine sitting in the corner of the space, just next to the sink.

“Sit.”

You do, watching him as he works.

'Work' being an interesting choice of words, you think to yourself, because it certainly appears as though this is something that San has done a handful of times prior to now. Expertly de-corking the bottle and with a pour stance that certainly would cause one to assume as such — when he finishes with both perfectly even glasses of wine and slides you one across the table, you can't help but continue watching him as he sets the bottle to the side and opts to stand just before you instead of sitting next to you.

“Before I moved here I used to work in food service.”

Suppose it was written on your face, after all.

San's glass remaining on the dark marble of the kitchen island, you watch his thumb as it delicately traces over the rim of his glass — his own eyes fixated on the movement, along with a face full of features that imply one deep in thought.

“Before I moved here—“ he begins again, quieter in tone.

“—I was married.”

“Oh.”

It's not the best response, given the information, and for that you think you may forever be regretful, but San snorts at it in response as if amused by it all the same.

“But you're...not...anymore?” you slowly manage out, watching for any change in the man's expressions as you do.

Looking up at you through his eyelashes, you watch him smile harder this time — dimple evident this time — and thankful that you haven't completely blown this interaction, you sigh in relief just a tad as San inhales to begin his next thought.

“No,” he says with a slow shake of his head, eyes pulled back down to the rim of his glass. “It's sort of...strange to talk about, I guess. Not hard, but strange.”

You recall your conversation with him back at the cafe after closing not too long ago.

“There's really no easy way to go about saying it, I suppose — she passed away, seven months ago,” he finally states, pausing for a brief moment and finishing the thought with the amendment of. “—Seven months and four days.”

You suppose that there are always times in life where your ability to manage situations will be tempted. How good you are with words, or with feelings — wrangling with the aftermath of tragedy, of your tragedy sometimes can seem easy — everyone grieves differently, and we're all entitled to grieve in our own, different ways.

How one handles the grief of another, though, you guess you have found just another thing in which you are lacking.

“San,” you whisper, reaching out and taking the hand that had once fiddled with his drink into your own. “I'm so sorry.”

“Ah, it's okay, this is why I don't like telling people, it's a little bizarre,” he says, chuckling a bit under his breath at the awkward turn of the night. “She was sick for a long time — years — we knew really early and just lived out our best years together in spite of it. I suppose you could say that I had already grieved the loss before she actually passed, in a way.”

It certainly puts your own life in perspective.

Flipping the positioning of your hands so that his sits atop yours, San squeezes gently as he finally takes a sip of his wine with the other hand. You follow suit, watching him intently.

“I guess I'm telling you this because — it will always be okay,” he assures with a smile. “It doesn't matter what happens tonight at this thing, or with Hongjoong, or anything — you'll be okay. The world will keep spinning, we'll all keep moving on, there will always be a reason to be okay.”

You think that it sounds corny, in the most charming, Choi San way.

“When my wife passed away, I sold all of our assets and moved here, opened a business, just...did something else,” he starts again, this time staring forward and into the nothingness ahead. “I could have stayed there, been sad and rotted away in our home, but she wouldn't have wanted that for me — she loved me because she thought I was great, so I have to keep on being great for her. That's my duty, now.”

The way that San's eyes sparkle in the dimly lit ambiance of your apartment makes him look stunning to you — a man already beautiful, only made even more so by the way that he so affectionately talks about his late wife and their love and life together — you can't help but imagine how lucky she must have been to have been married to a man like him.

And in that moment, you realize that you love San.

In a way that is born of nothing more than adoration and platonic affection.

'I love you, but I'm not in love with you.'

“Anyway!” he finally says, cutting through the silence of the kitchen after his heavy words. “What I'm trying to say is that I'm sure what Hongjoong would want for you is to just be the best version of you, all of the things that he ever fell in love with — be that, even if it doesn't necessarily mean that the two of you will end up back together, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You want him to be great, too, right?”

“Of course,” you reply, taking another sip from your glass as San falls back into the slightly more animated version of himself that you've become so accustomed to. “But clearly he has no issues with doing that much, given the event that we're attending tonight.”

And you know that it sounds bitter, somewhat petty, given everything. You're not sure if you don't mean for it to, even just a little bit.

You watch San frown gently at you, a silent scolding for the bitterness that you've accidentally let fall from your lips and into your glass of wine — followed up by a gentle smile and him coming around the side of the island to lazily sling an arm over your shoulder just as he tends to do in an effort to playfully rough you up a bit.

“Don't be like that,” he says, pulling you into a headlock much to your whiny dismay. “Think about how sexy he's probably going to look tonight.”

“Why in the hell would I do that? And why would you say that?” you whine louder now, desperately attempting to pull away from the grip of the man that has now comfortably taken position as your annoying, kid brother.

“Takes the edge off,” he admits, finally letting you free from his grasp only to settle his elbows onto the surface and cradle his chin between his hands coyly. “Besides, aren't you curious?”

Clearing your throat in an attempt to lie, you avoid eye contact. “No, I'm not going there for that.”

But San only sighs dramatically, flinging a hand in the air and picking up the empty glasses of wine to set down into the sink as you stand up with intention of leaving the apartment now.

“You lie to me with such ease, what's a man to do? How are women so cruel?”

“Women are cruel!?” you bite back, picking your bag up off of the side of the chair and slinging it carefully over your shoulder as the both of you head towards the door. “You're mocking me.”

“Not mocking,” San amends the statement as he slips his shoes on, eyes closed but smiling all the same — the same cat-like features that drew you to him those few months back.

What a mistake that was.

“Teasing,” he finishes, leaning forward and planting a kiss to the side of your head as you busy yourself with slipping into a nice pair of heeled shoes.

You scoff, finally ready to exit the house with keys in hand, and with San motioning for you to exit first you take your last, sharp inhale in the comfort of your own apartment — unsure of what it is that awaits you from the rest of the evening.

Closing the door after San and locking it behind, in the near pitch darkness of the hallway before the motion sensor lights flicker on, you feel familiar fingers lace in between your own — a comforting offering from a man that as always, knows no other way to be but selfless, loving, and there.

“It's going to be fine,” he whispers, thumb delicately tracing over your skin beneath.

“I've got you.”

As the car crawls to a stop in front of the large, steel building — adorned with large windows giving it the appearance of being made entirely of them, it's the first time that San lets go of your hand since leaving your place — carefully sliding it back to his side of the seat as the both of you unbuckle your seat belts and carefully open your doors to head out and onto the street.

Said street — bustling with people, mostly appearing relatively well-to-do and with money to spend, brings you a bit back down to earth at the sudden ways in which things can seemingly change. Majority of them not appearing to be the typical crowd that only six months back you would have expected to see Hongjoong rubbing shoulders with — memories of meeting him downtown in the art district, that dingy little bar that was his favorite because he was allowed to smoke inside of it, a bar where all of the wait staff and bartenders knew him and his typical friend group — including you, not unheard of to be dragging the man out of there late at night or gently holding his hair back after one too many.

You remember how he looked the last night you saw him — dressed immaculately and to fit in perfectly with this sort of crowd — always a bit of a chameleon of sorts, a man that could fit in anywhere, really.

Perhaps he had changed, though. Maybe you were too busy to notice it.

“Should we go?” San asks with a nudge to your arm, effectively bringing your thoughts back to the present. “Do you need a minute?”

“No, no,” you quickly answer him, checking to make sure you have all of your belongings despite the car that you had come in having long since left. “I'm ready, we can go.”

Upon stepping inside and through a small crowding of people near the entrance, once finding an area inside where the floor is relatively clear, the two of you stand in a bit of awe, glancing around the room before you — black and white walls and tiling accompanying gently, cool lighting on the art pieces themselves — mostly monochrome work that Hongjoong had been putting time into long before the two of you had even begun seeing each other in a way beyond friends, as your eyes dazzle along the sights, so many of the pieces bring you back to a specific moment in time, a moment shared with the man behind them all: memories of lying on the couch in the darkness with a movie on the television, the flickering of the film the only offering of light for the artist as he worked along a canvas. You so vividly recall asking him how it is that he can work in the dark of night, and him simply responding that it suits him — sometimes hard at work into the early morning hours, only taking breaks for the promise of being wrapped up in you — an easy win, you remember thinking back then, the sex paired with the simplicity of getting him to finally eat a meal thereafter.

Stepping towards one in particular, it brings all of the memories flooding back — laughing with him, lying around with him on the couch in his loft and lazily painting one of his fingernails pink for the laugh of it despite knowing him not to be one to gripe over such a color choice anyways — it brings a particular and familiar twisting in your gut that you had since buried well and deep within you; the longing for him.

The fact that you still loved him immensely, after everything. It was all still there.

But the piece that you recall so clearly now standing before you — changed in so many ways from how you have it etched into your memory — a vision that brings you great sadness, as if highlighting all of the ways in which Hongjoong has attempted to forget you, remove you from his life as best he could.

“There she is.”

Already well aware of who it is that the voice belongs to before turning to greet it, you can't help but smile as he steps forward, hair up and back just as always — and just like San's — as he comes up to stand next to the both of you in his too-expensive white button down shirt and black slacks.

“You came,” Wooyoung leans in towards you to whisper with a playful nudge to your side, as if he had been partially expecting you not to. “I'm glad.”

“Yeah.”

“This the guy?” he says, stepping forward to look past you and to your other side at San, quickly reaching a hand out to shake it. “Jung Wooyoung, nice to meet you. Heard good things.”

“Choi San, gotta say the same, she speaks highly of you.”

“Is that so?” Wooyoung can't help but tease with the raise of an eyebrow. “You told him?”

And you know full well that he's joking, and that you haven't, but the playfulness of the man something that none of you capable of keeping barred, ending up instead as something that all of you simply must become accustomed to. Sending an elbow into his side similarly to how he had done to you just moments earlier, Wooyoung folds at the waist with a giggle at the contact.

You'll have to explain some other time, not tonight, though.

“Have you seen him?”

The jesting tone of the evening not one able to be carried throughout, unfortunately. In the end, everything will always come back to Kim Hongjoong.

You shake your head gently, staring forward once again and at the bastardization of an art piece you had once held in your heart so fondly — instead now showcasing in bright lights and for a hefty price tag all of your most immediate and humiliating failures.

“He's around here somewhere.”

“Who is?”

To say that you were unprepared would have been an understatement. A familiar, airy pitchiness in a voice that over the months you had grown so accustomed to, formed such a particular adoration towards — now sounding almost foreign in ways as it enters your ears from behind you. You can only figure that he doesn't yet know that it's you, especially with not recognizing the man to the other side of you — to so simply saunter up to the group and seemingly without a care in the world, but surely with the weight in which your heart threatens to beat out of your chest and onto the floor for every guest in the gallery to see, the thumping would give you away long before the vision of your face ever could.

At the very least, the threat of your heart beating out of your chest and taking your consciousness with it suddenly not sounding so bad, after all.

The three of you begin turning to face him before you really even know what's happening, you think for a split second that you hear Wooyoung in your ear telling you to 'take it easy', though you're not so sure how you're expected to do so with little instruction on the matter.

It's been three months, after the better part of a year being over, under and irrevocably in love with him — arguably, he was even more in love with you, that much you were quite certain of.

“Speak of the devil,” Wooyoung chimes in as the three of you turn, and you think that for a moment time truly stops as you make eye contact with Hongjoong again for the first time since that night.

And it was certainly true that he had not known it to be you from behind with the way his features splash with nothing less than absolute shock from the visual of being met with your face again. You watch him so intently, for any sign of distaste, of not wanting you there, of unhappiness at the sight — any tell-tale sign that you should get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible, and you're happy to.

Figure, happy might not be the right word, but it'll do.

It's pure shock as he looks at you, before slowly allowing his vision to fall to the side where San resides next to you.

“You're—“ Hongjoong stutters out with a pause in between the words. “Here,” he finally finishes with a hard look in Wooyoung's direction.

Finally pulling your attention away from Hongjoong, not wanting to stare but God what a sight for sore eyes, you glance towards Wooyoung and his nervously giggling self.

Caught red-handed, but surely, he knew that would be the case.

“Well, you know what they say,” he starts through his anxious laughter. “Don't give the sex party guy a plus-one, who knows who might show up!”

A hateful attempt at a light-hearted joke, especially given the history between the majority of you present, both you and Hongjoong roll your eyes at the gesture simultaneously while San stands next to you quiet and surely somewhat confused.

“Right, well,” Hongjoong sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his pressed, black slacks — similarly dressed to when you had last seen him, albeit a bit more casually in his white button down and slightly oversized black suit jacket with the red lining just barely peeking out along the buttoning, but with hair still black and pressed up similarly to San's, you really can't help yourself.

He looks incredible. And healthy.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, I just didn't expect—“ he starts again, this time cutting himself off to offer to shake the hand of the man next to you. “Kim Hongjoong, but I'm sure you've—“

You listen to him trail off on the tail end of the statement, the word 'heard' barely escaping his lips at all as the awkwardness of not only the situation but acknowledging such, you find comfort in knowing that it's not going as well for him, either.

That you're both going to have to suffer through this, even just a little bit.

San snorts at the gesture and the words accompanying them, shaking Hongjoong's hand and nodding. “Choi San, and indeed, I'm familiar.”

An elbow gently greeting San's side, now.

But there's a particular unsteadiness to Hongjoong's stature that you find yourself unable to place. A discomfort that you had not anticipated upon entering the night, paired with the way that he makes an effort to avoid making eye contact with you at all costs, almost exclusively staring at the floor, or even opting to look at Wooyoung in any words spoken your way, that sends you through a loop much more than expected.

You knew that he wouldn't be expecting you, but the reality of it proving more than that causes you to feel a strange consolation that you're happy to welcome.

Perhaps it's not just you having to weather the storm of tonight, after all.

With silence taking the group, you watch Hongjoong gently rock back and forth on his heels a couple of times — first glancing at Wooyoung, and the two of them seemingly embarking on a perfectly mute conversation of sorts before the object of your undying affection's attention suddenly turns back to you and shaky eyes find their way to yours once again.

“So,” he starts, and not nearly as confidently as he probably would have hoped. “How...long have you two been together?”

It takes you a moment to follow the train of thought, not quite understanding what it is that he's referring to, an embarrassingly long amount of time before you finally realize that he's referring to the strange man that isn't Wooyoung standing to the other side of you — a dizzying sight before you when you begin to put the pieces together of Hongjoong's horrified realization of the fact that maybe, just maybe you had moved on.

Not sleeping with someone else, not talking to someone else, but dating someone else.

That even in all of those past encounters, everything that ultimately tore the two of you apart, at the end of the day, he held an irreplaceable spot in your life.

But not anymore.

“Oh, oh, we're—“

However, in typical Jung Wooyoung fashion, before you're able to get the thought out, he's reaching across you and towards San, gripping a hand into the strange man's arm and pulling him away from you and towards himself. “We should let them have some time, don't you think?”

San, all too quick on the uptake for your liking and grinning ear to ear whilst yanked around the gallery by the handsome stranger with the bright blonde hair, nodding and agreeing — but not without a passing look that says all you really need to hear from him in the circumstances, after all.

'If you need me, I'm a text away.'

Always good with words, even unspoken.

Before you have the time to revisit the prior topic, Hongjoong nods towards the piece of art hanging on the white wall in front of both of you, eyes glued to it in an attempt to avoid making eye contact with you — and in a way you find it sort of charming, the way he's being — suddenly reverting to this shy, awkward boy that you think in all of the years that you've known him, you've never quite seen this side of him.

Unnerving, in a way, as well.

“Finally finished it,” he starts, eyes pulling to the ground as he kicks at nothing with the toe of his shoe before glancing up at you again briefly. “Took forever.”

“It's changed a lot,” you acknowledge, attempting to quell the hint of sadness in your voice. “It's beautiful though, of course. You always had the talent for it.”

You wonder if it's too far — complimenting him so outwardly even in regards to his work and work alone, with the way that silence befalls the conversation and he opts not to respond to it, anxiety rustling within your chest all over again with each passing second.

“Gonna smoke, wanna—“ Hongjoong takes a second to think through the rest of the question before settling on it definitively. “Step outside with me?”

Opening the door to the private exit, down another dimly lit hallway that's not part of his exhibition but rather for staff to come and go as need be, Hongjoong holds it for you to step through before rifling through his pockets for his pack of cigarettes and lighter, slipping one between his lips and bringing his hands up and around the end to light it through the gentle breeze of the evening air.

In the midst of the busy city, smelling vaguely of sewage and burnt pizza — compliments of the little restaurant down a block or so away from here.

The two of you step towards the balcony edge together, leaning against the glass and steel guard rail — staring out into the night sky and upon all of the passersby down below — people and cars alike with places to be and people to see — you can't help but wonder just how many of them may find themselves precisely in this same situation as you; in what feels like the precipice of something, although you can't be sure what, or how much of that is simply you projecting your hopefulness upon a situation in which there is none.

It's the last thing you wish to do, punish him for his kindness towards you tonight.

Glancing to your side, you watch him exhale cigarette smoke, immediately dragged off and away into the wind.

How quickly things come and go.

“We're not together.”

It's a split second decision on your end, to amend the thought from earlier, and you can't help but study the way that Hongjoong's features may change at the receiving of such information. There's nothing, from what you can tell, but he always did have an exquisite poker face.

And besides, he doesn't have a drink next to him, either.

When silence blankets the conversation, you wonder if you should have left it, with Hongjoong not responding nor giving any indication of interest in the matter — chewing on your bottom lip, you turn your attention away from him and back out towards the tops of all of the shorter buildings in your view.

“Slept with him?”

The question comes out of left field, for a plethora of reasons — it sends you reeling a little bit, the audacity of it, for one, but shrouded by the fact that it's the first truly Hongjoong thing that he's said to you all night. Through all of the glitz and glamor, pressed dress pants and fancy wine — Kim Hongjoong was still just the guy that you had always known him to be; an artist that smokes too much, drinks a little too much (but not if you ask him), and is at all times at the mercy of his emotions — for better or for worse, it's him, it's who he is.

But just as quickly as he says it, his head drops forward a bit in a chuckle — clearly at himself more than anything else. “Don't answer that, you don't have to answer that.”

You know as well as he does that it's a question born from a place of unresolved hurt. No doubt in your mind that in your time apart that both you and he had experienced monumental growth, but some wounds take longer than others.

Three months is a good amount of time, but it's not long, not long enough to mend a lot. You know this, as well, with the way your chest tightens every time you look at him.

A strong man, but a weakness for you — not yet grappled with in its entirety in that time spent without contact.

“No.”

The choice to answer, if asked why, you suppose you're not entirely sure. A gut reaction, and willingness to provide a certain openness to him now that perhaps you had always failed to before. Unsure of what it may offer him — be it comfort, solace, understanding, maybe even sadness in a knowledge that this is now, and all of that was then, you choose to display your heart for him all the same.

And perhaps for you, a feeling of it being the least you could do.

'I'm doing the work, whatever it may mean to you now.'

Hongjoong takes another drag of his cigarette before turning his head to look at you, and for the first time that evening, the wall of feeling like strangers feels as though it may be crumbling, if only ever so slightly. A familiar glint in his eye — a man that enjoys playing games to a point, but with information so tantalizing presented before him — information that perhaps allows for more questions than answers, you suppose you could have guessed him to not be above taking the bait, as it were.

“Why not?” he asks, head cocking to the side inquisitively. “He's handsome, you're spending time with him so presumably he's not a scumbag.“ He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Brought him here.”

“Wooyoung offered,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “I didn't want to come alone.”

“Gotta stop letting Wooyoung get away with so much, he's really getting out of hand these days.”

A playful response that you're happy to hear in tone as Hongjoong turns back to gaze out towards the skyline.

“Are you...” you begin, once again that suicidal inquisitiveness getting the best of you as Hongjoong offers no insight into his own status, so to say. You watch the corner of his mouth pull up gently before bringing his hand up for another inhale.

“Seeing anyone?” he finishes the thought for you. It's a little humiliating, but he did always find joy in getting you a little flustered for his viewing pleasure.

“Why? Jealous?”

“No,” you lie. “Wooyoung mentioned you had been dating—“

“I've really got to get a handle on that guy...” Hongjoong sighs with exasperation again.

“I mean, it's fine, obviously, I'm not surprised, just—“ your words turning into nervous babbling before you have a chance to get a handle on it, with a chuckle, the man next to you takes it upon himself to put you out of the tailspin you've allowed yourself to fall into.

“I'm not,” he says firmly. “I mean, yeah, I went out with some people here or there but I'm not dating someone.”

You hate the way that your mind immediately begins to fill the voids with visuals of him making love to someone who isn't you.

But thankfully, that's a question you're more than willing to carry on not knowing the definitive answer to, in actuality.

Putting out a cigarette long since burned down to the filter, Hongjoong flicks it off and into the nighttime air before turning on his heels in a sort of particularly animated way — raising eyebrows at you and motioning towards the door. “Suppose I'm expected back, eventually—“

“I'm sorry.”

The words slip out from between your lips before you have a chance to second guess them, familiar prickling of tears forming at the corners of your eyes as your chest tightens and throat burns with the promise of all of the months of loving — and longing — for him, threatening to make themselves known right here, right now, on this otherwise tucked away balcony. A pathetic display, perhaps, as Hongjoong's eyes pull away with eyebrows knitting together harshly at the sight of you before him. You think to yourself that this, this time — and you suppose all of the times before, as well — you've gone too far, pressed him too hard for something he's not willing to, or simply cannot give you.

Emotionally stunted in so many ways, another thing that three months time not enough to unpack in its entirety — or maybe, even put a dent in.

And this one Hongjoong can't fuck away, either.

You consider it heavily, with the words already out and on the floor between the both of you, how selfish it is to offer him this now — tonight, of all nights, very much not what he needs to be dealing with.

But suppose you can't apologize for apologizing now, can you?

“I'm a mess,” you laugh under your breath, thumb on one hand reaching up to gently wipe away the formation of a tear from your eye before it has a chance to lend itself down your cheek and strip your makeup. “It's just been so long since I've seen you, that's all—“

“I know, me too. I'm sorry, too.”

It comes out of left field, the admittance of some form of responsibility in everything that had gone on — and while past a certain point, you find it impossible within yourself to hold him to much of a standard of accountability, it's the acknowledgment that he was, at any point in time, a participant in all of the many ways that things between the two of you had gone awry that puts an even stronger emotional choke hold on you.

“You want to get a drink?” Hongjoong asks, once again nodding towards the door. He checks the time on his phone before speaking again. “Bar should be open for another twenty minutes or so, then we can get out of here—“

We.

Pausing, Hongjoong laughs at himself again, the Freudian slip of sorts, and you can't help but giggle along with him even in spite of how your chest feels as though it may collapse in and onto itself at any given moment.

Making your way back inside and to the bar, you're comforted when you lay eyes on San and Wooyoung — happily seated together at a table with drinks before them, and quite evidently thoroughly engaged in conversation with one another. The blonde guy shouting so loudly that it echoes through the hallways of the establishment, Hongjoong mockingly covers his ears as you both seat yourselves with them at the silent insistence of San, himself.

“How's it going?” San asks Hongjoong, quickly settling his attention to you thereafter to scan over your stature and deduce whether or not there's a problem.

But the artist simply shrugs, bringing his glass to his lips and sipping before responding. “Well, but I'm ready to go home. All this snazzy, expensive shit isn't really my scene, this is all Wooyoung's jive.”

All eyes turning to the man in question, he shyly grins without an argument to put up against such accusations. “Guilty as charged, I suppose. Mommy and daddy didn't put me through a top five private school for no reason, after all.”

“You should have seen his apartment in college,” Hongjoong adds, “sickening.”

“Oh really?” Wooyoung responds, somewhat condescending in nature. “Interesting, because from what I recall, you sure enjoyed spending time there—“

You can't see it, aside from the jolt of Hongjoong as a result of a swift kick into Wooyoung's leg, and the problem in question subsequently hissing at the contact, but you and San laugh at the display before you, remembering all of the ways that this is precisely where you want to be, and the company you wish to keep.

That it feels like home.

And as the event comes to a close, the four of you are the last to leave — slowly making your way out of the building and curbside as you wait for your cabs to arrive to take you home.

The scent of burnt pizza stronger than atop the balcony, and even threatening to lull you towards it, you take in the fragrance — the sense most closely tied to memory — in hopes that maybe, just maybe, every time you smell pizza in the future, you could relive this for a second — the right here, the right now of this.

Glancing over at San to your left, him turning to meet you, he gently plants an elbow into your arm — a sort of 'I told you so' that the night would be okay. You're thankful that he's right.

And to your right — successful, accomplished, and extraordinarily loving, perhaps even to a fault, Kim Hongjoong.

Hair long since fallen as a result of running about and mingling — thick, waxed together strands of hair off to each side of his head, you watch him light another cigarette at the bemoaning of Wooyoung who makes it no secret that he wishes for his friend to give up the habit.

Ignoring the annoying friend and glancing towards you by chance, catching you gazing upon him, you quickly avert your eyes despite having already been caught in the act.

Another nudge into your arm, but this time from your right, and not from San.

Leaning towards you, it's the closest you've felt Hongjoong to you since the last time you had seen him — his presence sending shivers down your spine even in how innocuous the movement is.

“Want to come over? Ya know, for a drink or something.”

It's a private invitation, not for Wooyoung, and not for San. Only for you.

Your mind takes you to a million places all at once, something you would have to sort out on the car ride there, as you nod in acceptance without a single spoken word.

“If your boyfriend says it's okay, obviously.”

He's joking, tilting his head over and towards San who stands none the wiser to the scenario playing out just next to him. You slap Hongjoong's arm in jest — him cowering away at the gentle assault, of which finally brings San's attention over and to the both of you.

“Um, so—“ you start, clearing your throat nervously as you attempt to inform San of the change of plans for the evening. “I'm gonna go...with Joong.”

“Oh?” San says, and a little too loud for your liking as you watch it catch Hongjoong's attention, the upward curl of his lips in such a sly way giving away the fact that he finds the entire thing humorous — especially given that it be yours and yours alone to navigate.

“Don't be like that,” you groan, rolling your eyes at the display. “We have a lot to talk about, you know.”

“Of course, don't let me stand in the way.” San grins, bowing ever so slightly towards Hongjoong with reciprocation from the man, simultaneously receiving the notification that his car has arrived. “Be good, kids! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!”

“What wouldn't he do?” Hongjoong asks, Wooyoung's attention now piqued from the scenario having gone on on the opposite end of him.

“Almost definitely whatever the fuck is about to go on here,” Wooyoung adds, and to no one’s liking. “But, suppose I only have myself to blame for this.”

It's a pathetic display of a man pretending to be upset about the fruition of a scenario that he had more than a hand of causing to play out — dramatically tossing his arm up and over his face as if to fall faint on the wet, concrete below.

You had suspected Wooyoung to be up to no good in inviting you to this evening, and certainly hadn't thought him to be setting you up to fail — but this, perhaps a man entering dangerous levels of understanding the human psyche.

Notification sounding on Hongjoong's phone of the car arriving for the both of you — never before a more thankful time for it. Opening the car door, the man motions for you to enter first, happily obliging before he pauses to thank Wooyoung for being an absolute fucking nuisance tonight.

“Don't you have somewhere to be?” he asks his friend before finally shoving himself in next to you.

“Yes,” he affirms with a grin. “Waiting for the hot bartender to finish up his shift.”

And with the roll of his eyes, Hongjoong slides himself into the backseat right along with you, shutting the door and informing the driver of the address, but not before Wooyoung sends the both of you off with some more of his parting wisdom.

“Have fun talking.”

Through a mostly silent ride -– aside from Hongjoong attempting to light up a cigarette in the backseat of a luxury car and thus entering into a heated debate with the driver — you contemplate just what exactly it is you're being invited into. So many nights spent away from one another, and the last most prominent memory of you being in the man's home — pressed hard against the wall without an offering of any love or care from the man himself — you feel guilty for considering what would be for many the most obvious reason: the promise of sex.

That perhaps now, Hongjoong has downgraded the relationship to what it always should have been from beyond the first time — two people using each other’s bodies as a means to an end, without any emotional ties or interest beyond the physical in one another — that even in spite of the love and nurturing the friendship had once held within it, now all that lie there is a brute, primal need to feel and be felt by another human being.

That this ultimately will mean nothing, that you ultimately mean nothing.

And can you accept that to be the case just to have him again?

A tailspin that isn't so unheard of, being so completely and desperately in love with someone that one is willing to forgo all of their emotional needs in an effort to have what little it is that the other offers to them. If Hongjoong is only willing to let you have him physically, is that good enough for you? Knowing full well all of the ways that it will bury itself deep inside of you and rot you from the inside out — the knowledge that despite being there with you in his bed, his mind may be elsewhere, with someone else should the time ever come, until eventually he should cut you off entirely at the promise of a partnership with someone he can actually see himself with. Someone that he can see himself with in totality.

Is it good enough for you?

Maybe it is, for now.

Jarring you from your thoughts, the car stops — Hongjoong begrudgingly leaning forward towards the man who had previously chewed him out for his poor backseat etiquette with a wad of cash in hand — no doubt a hefty tip on top, as it's just the kind of guy he is, Hongjoong scoots himself out of the car just as he had entered approximately twenty minutes before, lending you his hand as leverage to pull yourself up and out of the vehicle as well.

With the door closed and the car pulling away, suppose it is what it is, now. You're here.

Hinge of the large front door creaking, a sound you're all too familiar with and left entirely unsurprised by its remaining in your absence, the two of you step inside — coats off and onto hangers and shoes carefully pulled from your feet — so delicately on your end, a feeling as though you're not meant to be here anymore, that you should enter with care, and as to not disturb those who lie in wait just beyond the hallway.

But Hongjoong strides forward with his usual nonchalance, towards a small makeshift bar now erected in and to the side of the open living space — you stand in awe for a moment at all of the ways that the place you had grown so accustomed to has changed — once black walls now white with numerous canvases scattered about. A man evidently hard at work, and for too many hours at a time, you can only imagine.

The only other way he knew of dealing with his feelings, plugging away at paint and pencils.

“Drink?” he questions, already popping open a bottle of some brown liquid for himself before noticing the surprise splashed across your face. “Oh, right, you haven't seen the place in a while — changed a lot.”

“I'll say,” is all you can manage in the moment, eyes still bouncing around the walls and off of all of the new and unfamiliar objects. “Busy as ever, huh?”

“You know how I am,” he says, handing you a glass without you ever giving him an answer one way or another. “How's it look? Other than messy, obviously.”

“Kind of miss the piano walls, I'll be honest.”

“Needed a change.”

It's a simple comment, but carries so much weight behind it under the guise of artistic vision.

Tipping his glass towards you, a silent 'cheers' of sorts, you both take sips before Hongjoong motions you further into the apartment and over towards the couch.

You don't mean to make such a big deal out of every little thing, suppose you just can't help it. The couch, far from forgotten, so many moments. Bright and bitter, all the same.

As you sit down next to Hongjoong, palms nervously flattening over your thighs to straighten the fabric of your dress after having set your glass down onto the coffee table, you stare down and at your fingernails — anything to pull your attention from the deafening silence of the room.

You hear Hongjoong inhale sharply, for some reason, you know to brace yourself for impact.

“I'm going to say something,” he begins, eyes glued to the liquid in his glass that lie carefully cradled between both hands in his lap. “It's going to hurt.”

Fight, flight or freeze — you couldn't move if you tried, every muscle in your body tightening at the promise of whatever pain it is that the man next to you intends to rain down on you.

“I slept with someone else, in our time apart—“

The confirmation that you had been attempting to avoid all of this time — the knowing without knowing, well aware of it without having to be told, now iron pressed into the forefront of your mind.

“—I prefer you.”

The words hit you a bit like whiplash with their unexpectedness. Words not necessary to express, and unsure of the intent behind such expression, it takes you a moment to even really allow them to sink into you through the uninvited imagery of the man you love in bed with someone who isn't you, and once they do, you find little understanding in them — allowing your eyes to wander off and to the side in which Hongjoong sits as he continues staring intently into his decorative glass of rum.

“Okay...” you whisper, somewhat conclusively, but with a hint of questioning — unsure of his motive in disclosing this sort of information to you. It is to say that you knew that already, but why are you being informed so carelessly.

“—And, I'm telling you this to hurt you, the same way you hurt me so exquisitely.”

You suppose that deep down, you appreciate the honesty. A sort of tit-for-tat game that you're not at all shocked by Hongjoong partaking in — probably having wanted to all along but without the willingness to do so when the both of you were still so completely involved — a sort of settling of the score that the man could never find it in himself to carry out knowing that you would be going to sleep with and waking up next to him for so many days following.

It's a sort of cruelty completely foreign to him — saying things just for the intent to hurt the receiving party, but the speaking of harshness, well, that's simply the Kim Hongjoong way, you're well aware.

Abruptly leaning into the back of the couch with a sigh, Hongjoong takes another sip of his drink. “Wooyoung said I should find a more...constructive way to get the hurt out of my system, this is sort of what we settled on.”

You can't help but chuckle at the idea of the two of them mulling over their options in regards to the topic.

“What was the second best option?” you playfully inquire, and Hongjoong snorts.

“Was gonna fuck your best friend, but Wooyoung said that might be a bit much.”

“Hard to come back from that one.”

“Yeah, it sure is.”

You hadn't meant it that way, but if the shoe fits.

“Can I ask you something?” Hongjoong's attention turning towards you as the words leave his mouth, you only nod. “Does it hurt?”

Questioning how much of yourself you wish to bare to the man before you, the man already having proven himself with intent to harm you this evening, you make what some may consider to be a questionable call.

You tell the truth.

“Yeah,” you sigh with a gentle nod, leaning forward and taking your glass into your hands. “Yeah, it fucking does.”

“I'm sorry.”

And you think that it's so quintessentially like him, to have it out for you only to apologize mere seconds after delivering the final blow. Bullet to the heart, and an apology soon to follow.

“Did it really happen?” you ask, Hongjoong glancing at you questioningly.

“Did what really happen?”

“Did you really sleep with someone else?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then don't apologize,” you say with finality. “If you're not lying, then don't apologize for it.”

It's only a few moments that Hongjoong silences at your words before he sits up again, this time turning himself slightly to face more towards you — the look on his face serious but all the while still dripping in anguish — you contemplate if he's aware that he's dropped the facade of being okay.

“If we're telling the truth tonight then—“ he begins, hesitancy lacing his voice as if he knows he's soon to be overstepping bounds he shouldn't be.

“—Have you slept with San?”

Once again repeated, you suppose there's some part of you deep down that feels a marginal bit of triumph in being able to answer the question openly, truthfully. It feels weird in so many ways, being questioned so vividly about the goings on of your private life that have nothing to do with the man asking — having long since expelled himself from you and yours, you know as well as he does that questions like this bubble up when one least expects them, and from long forgotten, long since buried places of immense and immeasurable hurt.

But what Hongjoong is really asking is if you loved him so irrevocably that you couldn't sleep with San.

Looking back at the evening at yours, when you kissed San on your couch with any and every intent to allow him to have you in all of the ways that Hongjoong is now asking if he did, it's easy to say that on the surface, no, you didn't.

But it was San himself that made you see that you did.

“No, I haven't,” you answer in almost a whisper. “I'll call him right now if you want.”

Drink in one hand and grabbing into your purse with the other free one for your phone, Hongjoong stops you — both verbally and with his hand atop your own before you have a chance to acquire it.

“Don't. I believe you.”

“Why?”

Words slipping out and past your lips before you have a chance to even think twice about them, Hongjoong laughs at them all the same, scooting himself across the couch cushions and closer to you. “I don't know. I want to, I guess.”

A loving gesture in so many ways, the man’s insistence on trusting you given all of the ways that perhaps he shouldn't — the softness of his hand on yours, reminding you of the delicate ways in which San loved to offer you physical comfort just the same — you wonder for a moment if you and Hongjoong truly do have a shot at a friendship after this.

After everything.

But it's meeting eyes with Hongjoong thereafter; beautiful brown, eyes decorated heavily in dark makeup for the event, messy, raven black hair that suits him even in spite of all of the colors you had seen him adorn long before, and just peeking through the collar of his white button down shirt — the single beauty mark on his neck, one you had long since grown to love so much over the months that takes you to another place.

The way that Hongjoong still, even to this day, looks at you as though you're the only other person in the world — after everything, and in this moment still — despite desperately wishing for him to say the words that you longed to hear, he always did say it with a gesture as effortless as his eyes meeting yours.

All of this time, through the high highs and the even lower lows, you knew that Hongjoong was still desperately, madly in love with you.

And for all intents and purposes, so you were with him.

“I guess you should—“ he begins with a sigh, less of sadness and more of a man having come to terms with something that may have been troubling him for some amount of time. You know what he's referring to, reflexively looking over and towards a large antique clock hanging from one of the walls.

“Yeah, it's late,” you add to his thought, setting your glass down onto the table once again before standing and carefully heading towards the door. You can't help but feel a bit like a bull in a china shop — expensive, sprawled out canvases and other art supplies as far as the eye can see, and wholly out of place — somewhere that you once felt so comfortable, now feeling completely foreign to you, as if your first time stepping foot inside.

As if you hadn't helped make this place what it is, from the very beginning — the memory of paint blotches adorning both of your giggling bodies after late nights drinking and decorating the walls that now bear no resemblance to the time.

Following close behind, you feel the presence of Hongjoong accompanying you to the door — unable to see him, but still feeling what you can only figure to be his eyes on you in some way. You figure it a sort of projection as you mull over the thoughts that may be swimming through his own mind in the moment — missing you, loving you — and maybe even not truly wishing for you to leave him tonight.

“Tonight was fun,” you say, forcing cheeriness through your voice in an attempt to slice through the tension of the situation. “I'm glad I went. I'm glad I came.”

“Me too,” he admits with a faint smile, hands buried in his pockets once again.

And you can't really help it, the way you wait just a few seconds longer beyond the interactions in hopes that he'll tell you to stay, each time allowing just a moment too long before straying into borderline awkwardness, but when it becomes somewhat painfully aware that this is how the night is ending, you find yourself still able to find joy in it.

It's not the perfect outcome, matters of the heart often aren't. But it's a start.

A far cry from where you began today.

Digging in your purse clumsily for your phone and keys, while simultaneously attempting to locate your own shoes through the cascading pile of his — with head turned and an arm stretched out towards them, you feel your phone tumble from your bag and down towards the floor — hard, cold cement and an almost certain demise for the accompanying glass, you swiftly turn your attention to the impending doom headed for your device, only for your head to meet a similar one upon collision with a similarly jolting down Hongjoong.

Expletive slipping from your mouth followed by a hiss, you stumble back slightly to the sound of your phone clattering against the hard ground below, but before you're able to truly set your sights on it, you feel gentle, familiar hands pressing up, cradling the sides of your head — so suddenly yet with such a feather-like touch you question for a second whether or not you're imagining it.

But opening your eyes again, and ignoring the thumping in your head, you find Hongjoong standing firm — and concerned — just in front of you, arms stretched out to steady you from the ridiculous collision.

“Jesus, sorry,” he laughs, “are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I'm fine—“ you manage out, quickly averting your eyes from his own.

He's not strange, it's not strange, but it all feels so brand new, navigating the uncharted waters now of whatever this situation has become. Having his hands on you again, such a loving touch — as he always had with you — flooding back the memories shared in the past, and once again, the all too familiar burning in your throat finds its way creeping back up to make itself known.

Long past the point of needing his additional stability though, you find Hongjoong's hands still on you, head delicately held between them as he gazes upon you. There's a place inside of you, deep down, that wants to — nearly needs to — continue avoiding looking at him, for fear of allowing even more of the flood gates to open back up, feelings you spent months attempting to lock away with the promise that this may never happen again.

That you may never end up here again.

And yet, here you are.

But eyes slowly finding their way back to his, you find Hongjoong's features to tell a story of all of the same, if you had to guess. A troubled look gracing his otherwise beautiful features, as if going through the options for not only tonight, but the rest of his life in real time right before you, and desperately you want to shout to him to say 'yes', to allow himself to fall for you again because this time it will be different, but not having the courage or the strength to bare yourself to him in such a way again, at least, not yet.

You need more than this solemn, single, moment in time — ripe for misinterpretation and misunderstanding, you need something definitive.

And just like that, as if the man had access to your inner thoughts and feelings the entire time, Hongjoong leans in towards you — exceptionally slowly, as if giving either, or both of you, time to back out before you do this again, or perhaps it's just that it feels like it's slow motion as your heart threatens to leap out of your chest at the promise of again.

A second chance. 'We'll do it right this time, I promise.'

Hongjoong's hands slide down just slightly, palms holding your face between them as his lips make contact with your own — perfectly familiar in ways that so many other happenings of the night lacked it, tainted with a hint of unfamiliarity, but not this. Warm, faintly chapped lips slotting perfectly against your own with the slight cock of his head — it's almost instinctual the way your hands quickly reach up and cling to the sides of his jacket, as if desperately holding him in place so that he can't escape. A man with no intention of doing so as his tongue carefully prods between your lips and against your own — the usual taste of rum and cigarette smoke that you'd become so accustomed to over the many months together with him, but even in all of the similarities, and all of the way that it feels like home to you, it's different.

A man that not so far in the distant past treated you thoughtlessly, carelessly, much too roughly for his own liking, now touching you increasingly delicately, almost to a fault. The man that you'd thought about every day since then, and so many before, who you want nothing more than to have and to feel — touching you as if he's terrified of doing so, like he may break you with a disorderly touch.

Perhaps he's not entirely incorrect in thinking so. 'Damaged. Handle with care.'

When Hongjoong pulls from you slowly, eyes slightly lidded as if dazed by the contact of having you within him again, he quickly, and shyly, averts his eyes down to the ground between the two of you — palms slicking down your arms and settling into your own hands.

“Useless around you,” he whispers playfully. “Probably never stood a chance. Guess that's why Wooyoung invited you.”

The entire situation feeling as though it's hanging on a shoestring, you take each and every possible response into careful consideration before allowing a single word to slip out from your mouth.

“You kind of scare the shit out of me, I'll be honest,” he adds with jest, tone picking up a bit more now as he bends down to pick up your phone, somehow still fully intact despite the dive.

Placing it into your hand, you watch his every movement, waiting for the pin to drop, so to speak.

Hongjoong looks over and to the side of you both for a second, before bringing his eyes back to your own with a slight upturn of one of the corners of his mouth.

“But, I'm in love with you, so sue me, I guess.”

And there's no other additions to the statement, no amendments to it, no bells and whistles or explanations as to the why or the how that allows him to. It's just Hongjoong standing before you, submitting himself to you.

“Can you say something? You're killing me here.” He then laughs, taking one of his hands back in an attempt to swipe hair up and out of his face.

Frankly, you're stunned by the scenario before you. So much has happened in...less than five minutes.

Cracking a grin — both thrilled and horrified at once somehow — it's the first thing that comes to mind.

“Can I wash your hair?”

A sight for sore eyes, you think, is the understatement of the year as Hongjoong steps into the shower soon after you — large, dark blue tiling throughout, and with couples shower heads (your idea during remodeling) that you're more than thankful to have — you watch him attempt to ruffle his otherwise stuck together hair with a scrunch of his face.

“Gotta stop going to all these fancy events, hate cleaning up this nice, pain in my ass,” he groans, stepping towards you and delicately placing his chin onto your shoulder.

“Yeah, they should just let you show up in ripped skinnies you haven't washed in two weeks and the tank you threw up in the night before.”

“You want the art—“ he begins, pulling up with a kiss to your temple before backing under the cascading water and flushing it through his hair. “—gotta take the artist.”

Pulling him back towards you by the wrist, you dump shampoo into your palm and carefully run it through his head, fingertips digging in between the clumps of product and dismantling them for his comfort. Planting a kiss to the back of his shoulder, Hongjoong takes it as an opportunity to lean his head back and against your own despite your attempting to wash him.

You work through it, allowing him the luxury as you watch his eyes slowly close and what appears to be contentment washing over him for the first time in so, so long.

“Missed this,” he whispers through the sound of the pressurized water. “Missed you—“

A pause.

“—Us.”

Just a passing comment from earlier, riddled with so many other things going on that the entire situation left you with far too much to focus on, but it's the idea of 'us' dropping from between his lips that briefly takes you back to that place all over again.

'I prefer you.'

It doesn't require much thought at all from your end, a very simple understanding of precisely what it is that he means by it — after all of the other situations, any of the other men, at the end of the day — it was always Hongjoong.

You preferred him, too.

“Rinse,” you say, gently pushing him off of you and towards the water again much to his displeasure, groaning as he stands fully on his own and under the water — nose crinkled like a child as you watch soapy water fall from him. “You gonna act like a toddler all night?” you chide with a grin.

“Hadn't planned on it,” he answers back, reaching out for your wrist and pulling you against his body much more firmly than you had anticipated, and much to your surprise as arms reach around you and hold you in place. “Unless you want me to call you mommy tonight, then I'm happy to oblige, I suppose.”

Despite being naked together in this instance, the overt sexuality of the comment catches you fully off guard. The teasing, sultry twist of his tone at the ending comment just as his head dips down and towards the shell of your ear has you remembering all of the ways previously that the man could so easily have you as putty in his hands.

“Joong,” you whine in gentle protest at the idea, the man exhaling a light chuckle at the sound of you.

“Sorry,” he whispers into your ear. “Been so long, I miss you.”

Deeply, some part of you wishes that you could put up more of a fight against the idea of feeling him tonight, but with his skin against yours, and the thought having already presented itself in his own mind — it's reminiscent of his earlier words.

You don't stand a chance.

“Come to bed.”

Hongjoong hearing you beckon for him, phone in hand one last time before finally setting it down on the nightstand to give his undivided attention to you, you watch him slowly crawl up between your legs; a kiss to your knee, then your thigh, your hip, breast, and shoulder before finally settling lengthwise against you — his lips gently cascading across the exposed skin of your neck and jawline before finally meeting on your own, only for a moment before beginning his descent on the other side of you — you melt into the feeling of being with him like this again, enjoying all of the ways that he feels all encompassing to you.

“New mattress?” you breathe out, feeling somewhat as though you may sink into it entirely as a result of his touching you.

“Broke the last one while you were gone,” he says into the skin of your neck. You freeze beneath him, only for him to huff out a laugh at the physical response. “I'm joking. It was old, you hated that thing, anyways.”

“Very funny.”

“I'll make it up to you.”

You figure he means it in more than one way.

Hongjoong's weight shifting onto one side to free up a hand to begin its journey down your body and between your legs, it's yet another thing that feels so strange but so comforting all at once — fingertips feathering across your folds before dipping forward with a little more intent than before, middle finger ghosting circles against your clit, you try to swallow down the neediness of your response — back arching slightly off of the bed beneath you and chest up into his own with a whimper at the contact, the feeling almost completely stealing your attention from how the man is carefully kissing, sucking, biting marks into the skin of your neck as he begins working you.

But Hongjoong only gives you a couple of minutes of it before you feel him pulling up and off of you, sliding himself down the same way he had come just a bit earlier with damp, black hair carpeting over his forehead and dancing across your bare skin as he kisses his way down and between your legs fully — the two of you make eye contact just as he makes himself comfortable.

“You know I have to or I'll die,” he jokes, in reference to his particular sexual compulsion.

And he gives you no time to answer back, as his lips replace the contact his finger had just made only moments prior, now unable to hold back the sigh of relief at the feeling of him as his tongue firmly presses against you — a single finger prying at your opening before slowly making its way inside of you — you find it's almost relaxing, the way in which Hongjoong handles you and your body with such care and concern each and every time you're with him like this.

Something no one else ever could do to such perfection.

A few drives into you with a single digit, he adds another to it in an attempt to work you open for him. The dizzying feeling of feeling so full of him, paired with the idea of what's to come and additionally, the breathtaking suction of his lips against your clit — has you tensing beneath his touch already as his free hand holds your thigh apart for him to work. You feel him grip fingernails harder into the skin there as his other ones curl against the spot you love to have him against so much.

“F-fuck, Joong—“ you whine, breathy and already a bit too far gone for how little he's had you like this, but Hongjoong opts not to relent, even to respond, carrying on against you as you unravel beneath him in record time.

Hand darting down and into wet hair, you grip onto him a little tighter than you had meant, Hongjoong only groaning into it and you in response as he evidently carries out his every intention of making you come right then and there.

It's only a few more seconds, three or four more drives of his hand into you before you're crying out for him, grinding down against his mouth involuntarily to chase the high of your orgasm as he drags you through it in its entirety — a grin plastered across his face as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand through his triumphant come up, and your entirely worn come down.

Once again trailing kisses along your chest on his way back up to your mouth, “still got it,” escapes between his lips in a whisper just before pressing into your own, and you figure if you weren't so spent by how evidently right he was, you might be more willing to put up a fight.

But not tonight, you can let him have this one.

“Missed the way you taste,” he says into you, the scent of yourself still prominent on his mouth. “Everything about you is perfect for me. I could never tire of you—“

You feel his lower half shift slightly for positioning, the weight of his hardened length pressed against the apex of your thighs, and you realize now that you crave feeling him again, just as before.

“—My muse.”

A term of endearment, perhaps not often used within the context of sex, but sending your heart through a loop all the same, you bring your hands up the length of his back — feeling the skin and muscle beneath your fingertips as he flexes atop you to hold himself in place.

You didn't have as charming a word for what he meant to you, but you were a little obsessed with him, for sure.

Gentle nips into your bottom lip, you feel Hongjoong moving towards the beginning of pulling away from you, gripping into him harder as to not allow him, he kisses down and into your jaw.

“Condom,” he whispers against your skin. Such a bizarre concept for the two of you.

And you hate to ruin the moment, but it begs the question.

“Why?” you ask, attempting to ground yourself enough through the feeling of his mouth on your flesh. “...Did you?”

But Hongjoong pulls up almost instantaneously, looking down upon you and straight into your eyes with earnestness. “No, I just figured—“

Reaching up and taking a hold of him by the shoulders, pulling him back down and against you — chest to chest, skin against skin — you lean him into another kiss, teeth and tongue and longing and the need to have one another all over again, and perhaps in some way, undo all of the wrong that had been done before.

It's not a fix, or perhaps, a very temporary one. You both know that there's still work to do, a lot of it — but maybe in some way, it's a start.

“I miss you,” you reiterate, speaking the words directly into his mouth as he positions his hips between your thighs — there's silence for a second, the both of you taking in the sensation of him pressing forward and filling you once again — a feeling far from being forgotten but also far too long since the last, the simultaneous heavy exhale from each at the feeling of you wrapping around his cock, and alternatively, him prying you apart for it.

When he bottoms out inside of you, Hongjoong brings a hand up, gently swiping loose strands of hair from your forehead before planting a kiss there.

With a nearly full withdrawal of his length from you, he slowly presses back inside again, repeating the act four, five times — reveling in the sound you make at once again experiencing the full feeling of him being inside of you.

It's gentle, and you know he's making up for lost time — but even more than that, he's trying to undo last time.

Kissing the apple of your cheek before pecking a kiss to your lips as he begins to settle into a rhythm against you, lips lazily lying against the skin of your jaw, Hongjoong looks up at you through his eyelashes with a smile. “Too much to say 'I love you' while I'm inside of you?” he asks jokingly, but you know more than anything else that he's not really joking.

And for that, you couldn't be happier.

“No,” you sigh, word catching in your throat as he finds that particular angle that has you coming undone with haste beneath him. “Never.”

“Good, because I do,” he whispers, the feeling of you clenching around him taking him out of the thought for a split second. “Sorry, dirty talk is terrible tonight, I know,” he laughs through a groan.

Times like these, where you're able to completely and entirely be yourselves together — laughing and loving without a second thought, it takes you back to the first time with him — albeit, more of a performance, an interview for both parties in some ways, but the ease in which you two fit together entirely being something that you're not sure you ever really can find more than once in a lifetime.

The concept that there's no 'one,' that there are so many ninety-nine point eights or nines, but no singular person, the fairy tale ending, the all-encompassing everything.

Perfection.

And in truth, it's possible that you and Hongjoong are simply another example of it, given the trials and tribulations of your relationship, only to end up right back here after everything.

But it's still real life, and it still takes work. Even when it comes to the ninety-nine point nine, it's up to you to fill in the deficit.

It's not long at all before Hongjoong has you pressed hard against him as you come, firm, hard, drives of his length into you to ride you fully through it just in time for him to bury himself as deeply as he can — teeth gritted and a bit back groan as he comes inside of you with throbs of his cock so evident that you can feel him against your walls as he releases as well.

Hurriedly, lazily kissing your mouth through heavy, labored breaths, the both of you smile against each other's lips, 'I love you' slipping out and into the air, although, you're not sure which one of you is the one to say it.

It's not perfect, and it's been far from easy, but with your hands buried into dark, messy hair as Hongjoong draws invisible art into your skin with a single, painted index fingertip, you think that in spite of all of that, at the very least it's worth another shot.

That if Hongjoong is willing to believe you, believe in you, then the least you can do is be kind enough to yourself to do the same.

“This is a little unethical.”

“I know.”

Looking around the office space, you take in the faint scent of what you think you can note as cedarwood, being far from an expert on wood-related fragrances but having smelled it enough times to think to know, you find comfort in it — it's obvious intent, glancing past the bookshelves filled with brown, white and gray book spines and eventually settling on a desk towards the back of the room.

It's your first time doing this, they'll have to forgive you for not being completely present at the very start.

Dark green walls and a dark wood desk with a heavy waxed glaze, you tune out the conversation taking place in the room if only for a moment to focus on the photograph standing tall and a bit off to the corner.

In it, two men that you are very well acquainted with. One with an adorable slit in his eyebrow.

“I'll do this once but I'm gonna have to refer you elsewhere,” he says firmly as your attention snaps back in front of you as the words leave his mouth. The end of a pen dangling from the corner of his lips and wide glasses sitting atop his nose — almost obstructing the sight of the beauty mark just below his eye, but not quite.

Hair down today, suppose he does mean business.

It's then that a hand slips into your own, fingers lacing between — catching your eye, a single, yellow-painted pinky nail — something you had done yourself a few nights prior to now.

It brings a smile to your lips. A sort of guide, you think, as silly as it may be. Maybe it will all be okay, and even if it's not — we gave it everything.

Looking back up and over at Hongjoong, the man next to you on the couch smiling gently even through the discomfort of the situation at hand, you can't help but feel the hopefulness he exudes, the confidence, and even more than that, the contentment coursing through him.

Happiness, in full understanding.

'I love you, and for both of our sake, we have to try.'

You know that you will wear Hongjoong in your skin for as long as you live, and the same for him with you, no matter this outcome.

But you owe it to yourselves, closure being a gift that cannot be gifted to us through others but rather understanding from ourselves.

For you and Hongjoong both, this is the way.

You watch Wooyoung look up at the both of you through his eyelashes, one eyebrow cocked upwards in what you can only gather is some level of grievance in this being requested of him — but accepting of it all the same, really, it's the least he can do for being so conniving.

“Well then,” he sighs reluctantly, opening his notepad and sitting up proper in his chair just across the table, and you know that he knows the answer to the question once he says it, but suppose one should go through all of the motions — for professionalism, of course.

“Why is it that the two of you are seeking therapy at this time?”

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