#art least if I'm doing simple looks

[angiestown]

I'm starting to seriously consider getting into makeup at least for special events but currently my experience with makeup is like. I was probably gifted a claire's makeup palette or two as a kid that I never opened and I watch doll customizing videos where they draw makeup onto the dolls

I guess are there any cheap brands that are good? or alternatively cheap brands that are very bad that I should stay away from? maybe some youtubers who do good tutorials?

I still really hate the idea of having stuff on my face, so I'm really only interested in like fun obviously-wearing-makeup looks to make my eyes and eyebrows less plain. maybe some dark lipstick too idk. I really don't want to cake my face in stuff to like contour it or anything

[sysig]

She’s only a little thing! (Patreon)

[buttercupshands]

I had the silliest idea pop up in my head and couldn't refuse it

even though I'm sleepy

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hey gallus can you back me up in an argument I'm having that being under the age of 45 in any fiber arts hobby just makes people give you stuff?

I keep getting gifted fabric by garb laurels and somehow I have a spinning wheel and people in my family think I'm doing it on purpose. I'm not! Just being young makes the olds want to give me things that have been in their hoards too long!!!!

It is a simple matter of supply and demand. Even if they're not the majority, MANY people in fibercraft have been doing it for decades and accumulated impressive hoards of tools, materials and books. The oldest of these people are often looking to downsize before they move into a more manageable home/make sure their beloved tools go to a good home before they die. Their own kids often don't want the studio hoard, so the elder fibercrafter turns to their fellow crafters. Since established crafters already have their own hoards, the elders turn to the newest members of the hobby to unload on. That is *usually* the youngest person there, but the actual measurement is "least deep into the madness".

If you are both new to the craft AND decidedly youthful, things WILL be flogged at you by your craft elders who are you as both a surrogate apprentice to pass their legacy onto, and a convenient dumping ground. If you have too much stuff, the solution is to recruit someone else into the craft to serve as the new Craft Baby.

[inbabylontheywept]

the fine and subtle art of arguing with old men

it was a good week for testing which meant it was a slow week for me. most of my job is fixing the machine when it goes down. if it doesn't go down, i don't have much to do. 

fortunately neither did marc. in a site full of ornery old bastards, he's the oldest and the orneriest, so it goes without saying that i enjoy spending time with him. he reminds me of my grandpa. hell, he reminds me of a lot of people. i've befriended enough grumpy old men that i've got a sort of momentum to it now - you know how it is, when you meet someone that reminds you of someone else you really like. you get to start that friendship off half built, because you already have an idea of how to like that guy, and some of that old warmth can be brought to the new friendship. a little ember to start the stove up with.

(i think that's one of the really undersold beauties of getting older. you stop viewing people as strangers and more like remixes of friends.)

anyway, i was sitting next to marc and we were talking about the future. i've got my eye on having kids sometime soon (year or two? hopefully?), and he's very happy for me. i've tried asking him for advice, but all he says is that he didn't do a great job with his own kids and they still turned out okay, so i should stress less and trust myself more. i hope he's right. he believes it, at least, and it's a hell of a thing to have the faith of an old man. his faith is hard won.

as for his plans, he's retiring at some point in the next six months, and is hoping to sell his home and buy something in florida. he's republican, so he views the state as paradise, and i'm not inclined to even try talking him out of it. it's his dream, you know? i know for a fact my paradise would be a lot of people's hell. life's funny like that.

still, we kept going on, and it was a good time, and then he reminisced about the last time he got close to quitting - back around 2020. our job required getting vaxxed, and he refused, and there was a big kerfuffle about it before the job actually backed down. i know there's not a lot of sympathy for the unvaxxed out here, but the man's 62. you get the shot when you're under 30 to protect the people around you, but when you're over 60, you're just getting it to protect yourself and it's hard to be mad at someone for kicking their own ass. 

still gave me pause though. i knew he wasn't going to take it well, but half the job of collecting curmudgeons is keeping them around, so i said 

hey. i'm sorry they bent your arm over it, but.

but. 

you should really get that shot. 

and he looked over at me, and i looked at him, and he actually spat. not on me, just the concrete, but it was enough to show that he was mad. then he walked away, as abrupt as anything.

i felt bad about it. i wasn't sure what i'd expected, when he was willing to lose his job over it before, but i'd been so invested in his dream of retirement - the idea of him sipping margaritias on a beach next to his wife, the wife he calls every day during lunch, the wife he says is the one thing in life he ever got right on the first try. the wife that almost divorced him back when he was in the airforce because he just wasn't home enough. 

(but he can be home now.) 

and then he mentioned the vax thing, and it was like seeing a pin hit a balloon. he works out every day and takes all sorts of crazy vitamins and is generally committed to getting the most out of his pension and his life. i didn't want this dumb weak point to be his achilles heel. 

---

i wasn't actually sure how long marc would be mad at me. i've seen him stay mad at some people for weeks. i wasn't sure if being friends would make that time go up or down. 

it went down. i'm glad it went down. 

he stopped being mad about two days later. we were doing front end maintenance one morning, and it was just that simple mechanical rhythm - hex key, replace the anode sheets, punch some off-gassing holes, oil it up, put it back in - that put things at ease. it always does. people working there are too busy to remember grudges, and it has this sort of mandatory practical communication that helps smooth things over. it was going great, and then out of the blue he said babs, you gotta be careful giving advice. those shots come with complications. what would you do if i got that shot, had a stroke, and died? 

and i don't know what answer he was expecting, but i just told him the truth, which is that i would be devastated. i'd feel like i killed him. i thought that was a pretty normal response, but he looked taken aback. he asked why i said it then, and i said i'd have felt the same if he died of covid. that's just life. sometimes, there's no way forward that doesn't risk some kind of regret. 

we finished the tube after that, in a silence that felt heavier than peace but lighter than anger. it felt like the ball was back in marc's court. like it would be rude to take that turn from him. 

we parted ways with a nod and didn't speak until the next day. 

---

i was doing spreadsheet work when he found me again. standard paper engineering - thinking of things we might need and ordering them in batches, months ahead of time. it always feels a little like plugging holes in a dam with my fingers. 

but he popped up, and we didn't even exchange pleasantries. he just said i'm gonna die one day, and you can't blame yourself for that. 

which is a hell of a thing to just tell someone right off the bat. 

so i said what 

and he said babs, i am in my 60s. something is gonna get me eventually, and whether it's covid or heart disease, or a stroke, there will be something you could have said or done before. and that's okay. it's not your job to make me live forever. 

and you know, he actually made a lot of sense. so i said 

okay. 

i'll keep your business yours. i just

you were talking about your retirement before this. and i want that for you very much. you've worked hard for 45 years, and you deserve a break. we're getting to sick season, and it would be the saddest fucking thing in the world if you got this close to winning the race then tripped in the last ten feet. 

and we sat there a few moments longer. i wasn't sure what to say, and i wasn't sure what he'd say, but eventually he just shrugged and said

yeah 

then he left. i figured that would be the end of it. 

---

i did front end maintenance yesterday, after being gone a week. it's one of my favorite things to do. i like working with my hands. i really like working with my hands. i'm glad i went to college, but in a different life, i think i could've made a better electrician than an electrical engineer. 

and at one step, when we were both hoisting the plate back onto the machine, his sleeve rode up, and i saw two bandaids on his arm. 

we finished the install, and i was ready to go back when marc actually stopped me. 

i got the shot, he said, almost embarrassed. like he'd been caught. and i knew he was gonna say something dumb about it, so i just cut him off by giving him a hug. 

i was relieved. hugging old men is kind of like picking up cats. if they like you a lot, they'll tolerate it, but that's about it. we sat there maybe three beats before his hands went up, and then he gave me one overly-hard thump on the back. in my experience, this is how old men tell you that they're done, so i let him go.

carla talked me into it, he said, almost defensive. his wife. his one good decision.

tell her i said thanks, i said back.

trump got the shot too, he said, less defensive, but oddly pleading. like he was consoling himself.

like he was nervous.

then it's gotta be safe, i said, and he looked up at me, strangely searching, strangely vulnerable. i don't know exactly what he was looking for, but i guess he found it because after a few moments his shoulders relaxed.

yeah, he said, one hand on the back of his head.

it's gotta be.

[hellonearthtoday]

canon is dead I rule the world. dsmp you are MINE

dsmpblrs ocs shared between the 5 (five) singular people that inhabit this fandom

I'm taking the chance to just talk about my personal dsmp au that is basically canon if you don't think about it

I don't think we as a community wrote enough about demon ctommy. he was always my favorite it just gives him this evil vibe that I think is sooo funny and I always see it in ctommy art but never in literally any fic. and that's fine but imp or whatever-he-is-Tommy will always be real in my heart. in my head he used to be a bird hybrid, but when he died for what was supposed to be the final time they took his fucking wings and gave him cunty demon horns and tail. Death made him emo. for the sake of this narrative his wings used to be white too. Pair this with religious ctommy and you get peak

ctubbo. I think about him a lot. I think personally he wears armor under his coat. You'd think it start to get hot under there, and it does. his solution is to just Never leave the Arctic.

At some point he started developing resting bitch face, because it used to just be resting (autistic face of neutrality) but now he kind of just looks tired all the time. Not like Tommy's rbf where he looks like he's kinda pissed and has a headache 24/7. but at least they're semi matching now. bff's!!! (?) I can't write too much about ctubbo because my cutbbo is like 20 billion contradictions stacked on itself. he's not as simple as my ctommy.

He doesn't wear the red bandana anymore but he can't tell you why and he's not insecure about the scar on his face but he's not proud of it either. I FORGOT TO DRAW CRANBOO AND HIS WEDDING RINGS IM AN ANTI WHAT THE HELLL okay ignoring that blunder, their wedding rings are meant to be on their horns 💔 you can't fucking see cranboos singular (1) horn because it's out of frame, they're too tall.

SPEAKONG OF CRANBOO!!!! snakes in his hair because Hahhaa hattte eye contact????? Medusa???? get it guys get it do you guys get jut

The snakes talk to him. Take that as you will. He's a chronic suit wearer and will literally not wear anything else unless it's under or over the suit. he would like to never try anything new ever he needs this constant in his life or everything will fall apart and the world will end. He knows how to kit up and wear armor but just as a joke he wears random bits of armor in places he literally needs it least. as a fashion statement. Tommy doesn't wear any armor usually bcz who gaf he's not doing that shit

in my perfect world the egg plot in dsmp actually got used better and becsme more than a background plot. it could've been everything. anyway my dsmp au is egg war las Nevadas craziness and I'm right goodnight

[daincrediblegg]

no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly

I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.

because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).

And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.

It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.

so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.

[dresshistorynerd]

Historically Accurate Jasmine

Another remake! I remade Jasmine for my series of "Historically Accurate" Disney Princesses. I honestly don't like the first version of Jasmine I made five years ago. It's not well drawn, I don't like the design, it doesn't look Jasmine and I incoherently mixed elements from different time periods. I also made some embarrassing blunders in history while explaining my thought process, since back then I was much less familiar with the history of Middle East and India. So I definitely wanted to redo her.

I do like Aladdin a lot, but let's be real, it's a very Orientalist film. Orientalism is the colonial lens through which the west looks at Asia and North-Africa, or the so called "Orient". It's dehumanizing and fetishistic lens - the west at the same time despises and covets the "Oriental" body. The "Orient" is flattened as one single entity and it's all savage and exotic, backward and mystical. Orientalism is fueled by jealousy and entitled superiority. In Aladdin it's very visible in how the setting blends a lot of very different Asian cultures, flattening large parts of a very diverse continent. It's set in sandy desert, but a lot of the elements of dress especially are much more Indian in aesthetic. Certainly fitted bodices and exposed stomachs are not practical clothes in a desert climate. The characters too are frequently exotised and fetishised with most female characters including Jasmine dressed and posed to appeal to the colonial gaze that covets brown bodies. Jasmine is sexualised much more that any of the white Disney princesses.

Originally the story was going to be more focused, though I can't imagine it ever lacking in Orientalism. It was supposed to be set in Baghdad, but during the production the First Gulf War happened, so they tried to distance it from the original Iraqi setting by setting it to the fictional city of Agrabah. Would there have been less Indian elements? Probably. It is pointed that in the wake of American forever wars in the Middle East, to not cause a stir Disney elected to make the movie more Orientalist. Orientalism was the inoffensive option.

Deciding on the historical setting to ground the redesign in was not simple considering the mess that the movie's setting is. One Thousand And One Nights is a collection (or many collections) of Islamic folktales from Northern Africa to Central and South Asia. So India (especially Mughal India ruled by Muslim dynasty) wouldn't be an incorrect setting and certainly neither would Middle East. The problem is that the film seems to imply there's no meaningful difference. Rather than trying figure out what is the most fitting place and time period for the film, I looked to the origins of the story of Aladdin. Apparently Aladdin’s story was added to One Thousand And One Hundred Nights by a French translator in 1709. He got the story from a Syrian-born Maronite storyteller, Hanna Diyab, who might have come up with the story himself. Most of Syria (at least Aleppo where he was born) was at the time part of Safavid dynasty Persia, so I decided to set my version of Jasmine in 17th century Persia.

I basically based the design on the illustration from 1702-3 by Mu'in Musavvir first below. The more fitted and tailored style with wider skirt likely influenced by European fashion it represents became fashionable in mid 17th century, so it still fits the time period I'm aiming at. The colour is simply perfect for Jasmine and I really like the overall desing. I did look at other art as well to get a better understanding on how the cut of the dress works, so here's couple o more references: second one is "Two Lovers with a Servant Woman" from 1696 by Mu'in Musavvir as well, third and fourth are details from paintings in the Chehel Stoun palace in Isfahan from 1646. Eyebrows grown together was considered especially beautiful feature so of course I gave Jasmine brows like that.

I of course gave her a crown, since she's a princess and depictions of Safavid princesses seem to always have a crown. I found that usually in art women had a white veil with their crown which is why I made her veil white, even though with the scarf band, which was the more typical headwear for women, colourful veils seemed to have been much more popular at the time. The veils in 17th century were also very long. For the crown and jewelry I wasn't as concerned to be using references from mid to late 17th century specifically, since these tend to change slower than other fashions. I based the crown mostly on the first illustration below from c. 1600 by Muhammad-Sharif Musawwir of a Seated Princess and the earrings on the second illustration from c. 1540 by Mirza ‘Ali of a Seated Princess with a Spray of Flowers.

Most of the images I found on this very useful blog which had gathered A LOT of Persian illustrations and paintings in handy timeline. A lot of the information of Safavid fashion I got from this MET Museum write up by Nazanin Hedayat Munroe.

[bamfkeeper]

Kurt's instincts are still flaring...you know just how to help. 18+ under the cut. MDNI.

Sorta unofficial part two to my last Nightcrawler fic. That was originally going to be nsfw, but I decided against it because I have other nsfw pieces in the works. So this is sort of the smut version of that one. I'm glad I'm not the only one who wants to grab his horns.

Warnings: Afab reader, cunnilingus, unprotected, slightly rougher sex, marking, slight cum play? Unedited.

WC: 2.4k

Kurt had been quiet for a while.

After he had let out the 'darkness' within him, he just didn't feel like himself anymore. He was constantly battling his own mind, his very being, and it was utterly exhausting. Every day felt like a struggle that required all his energy. His mind flashed with the bodies of the fallen soldiers he had killed, their lifeless forms haunting his thoughts, and he often had trouble resting after those vivid, torturous memories resurfaced.

You tried your best to help him, to reassure and comfort him in every way you could think of, but you could only do so much for him. Despite all your efforts, some things couldn't be healed with mere reassurance. The act was done, and the scar was made, etched deeply into his soul. The emotional wounds were too profound, and words of comfort could only provide temporary relief from the pain he endured.

This was when he began to think...maybe it was better to let the darkness out. The pain of it all lessened when he did.

You were sitting with him in the privacy of your bedroom, where the soft glow of the evening light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue on everything. He sat behind you, his presence comforting as he leaned into your smaller form, providing a sense of security and closeness that you both cherished. He let out a quiet sigh, a sound so simple and quiet spoke volumes about the weight of his thoughts and the whirlwind of events that had been unfolding around him.

You noticed his somber mood and the lines of worry etched on his face, so you decided that perhaps a nap would help to relax him and ease his troubled mind. Sleep, you thought, was a temporary escape from reality, a gentle reprieve that could offer solace. You knew that it would at least give him a brief rest from his racing mind, a momentary pause in the chaos, allowing him to regain some peace and composure.

"I'm going to change real quick, I think we should take a nap. The afternoon has been quiet." You sat up a little and stood from the bed, slowly undressing and walking over to the closet. His golden eyes glued to your figure and he growled softly, the sound escaping his throat without him realizing it.

You were so engrossed in finding your favorite silk top among the myriad of clothes that you didn't notice his approach at all. Kurt was incredibly sneaky and had perfected the art of moving silently. He had learned to have a light foot during his years in the circus, where he would often sneak around in the dead of night, scavenging for scraps and bits of food. He had to be extremely careful not to wake the slumbering animals or disturb the watchful owner. The skills he honed in the circus allowed him to move like a shadow, almost undetectable.

It wasn't until he was directly behind you that you became aware of his presence. You felt his breath on your neck, startling you. His breath was hot and heavy, and you could feel it against your skin. His lips were slightly parted as if he was about to speak, but instead, he let out a deep, primal growl that sent shivers down your spine.

You turned to look up at him, his golden eyes shining dimly in the room as he grabbed hold of your hips. "Liebe..." he nearly snarled at you, his body trembled with screaming desire. He didn't want to hurt you, oh god, he didn't want to hurt you. But you looked so vulnerable right now, topless and the only protection from being completely nude was the thin layer of fabric you wore over your sex.

He knelt down slowly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of confusion and vulnerability. "I cannot explain what is happening..." he whispered quietly, his voice barely audible. The weight of his words hung in the air, creating a tense silence between you both. After a pause, you found the courage to speak up, breaking the stillness.

"Bad thoughts?" you asked gently, trying to understand what he was going through.

"Nein...good ones. With you...but...they are more intense than they ever have been," he whispered with a shaky voice, his emotions clearly overwhelming him. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the conflict between his feelings and the inability to comprehend them fully. You could tell he was having trouble saying it, so you sat back and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Show me what you mean." Your words and smile was all he needed to continue. His hands rubbed up your bare thighs and he ripped off your panties. The sudden tearing against your skin burned slightly, however you weren't given a moment to register the burn before his lips wrapped around the area. He kissed and suckled harsh marks where your skin was irritated from the fabric ripping. You moaned softly, your hand running through his curly locks and you watched him kiss and soothe the areas whilst leaving dark hickeys around your hips where your panties would sit.

He growled and bit the area below your belly button, that delicious, plush area that he loved so much, he kneaded and nipped it with his teeth while leaving a trail of purple marks in his wake. You watched as he marked you up, more and more started appearing on your skin and you couldn't help but moan with each one he planted.

"I cannot help myself any longer...these thoughts, I feel like they are consuming me." he rasped against your bruised skin, his yellow eyes almost looked more orange now, half lidded and heavy with lust in them. "I do not want to hurt you..." he muttered, his gaze traveling down further as he looked at your exposed sex.

He pressed his nose against your folds, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent, your obvious arousal filled his senses and his eyes shot back open. Claws held your plush hips, spreading your legs.

"Kurt..." you whispered, your words losing themselves behind the surprised groan that tore through you, his tongue lapped a strip up your slit as he trailed to your clit. His lips wrapped around your bud and he sucked hard on it. "Oh, god..." your voice wavered as your hands naturally went to his hair.

Your hands felt his curls, those dark locks that you adored, you curled your fingers around them and felt his silky hair when you felt his horns. You couldn't help but gently wrap your fingers around the horns and feel them a little more. You hadn't actually touched them much before, he didn't want you to. But now he didn't seem to care, too busy devouring your core and making your legs tremble.

Your hands gripped his horns, and his eyes widened. He clawed your hips, lifting you off the ground and diving further into your cunt, his tongue pushing inside as he ate you out. His tongue moved so expertly, dipping inside your wet hole and dragging your hot arousal up and over that pretty clit of yours.

His vigorous laps and suckles increased as you drug his head closer by his horns, panting and mewling like a poor bitch in heat. His claws held you tightly, growling against your slick sex as he pulled you away from the wall and threw you down on the bed.

Kurt crawled over you, looking more wild than you had ever seen. He drooled as he forced your legs open, his claws gently digging into the plush flesh of your thighs, and he dove back down, completely encompassed in your cunt and entranced by it. Your hands went to his horns again, groaning as he soaked your pussy with his saliva and eager tongue lashing.

You could barely hold back the cry as your orgasm hit you. It was intense, and your back arched off the bed, your hands gripped his horns in a vice and you tugged him even closer if that were possible. "Kurt!! Aah!" You stuttered out some rambling words about your climax, unable to get out a solid sentence. He could tell you came, your cunt soaked the sheets and his tongue, such the eager mutant he was lapped all of your up as you creamed for him.

He pulled back, strings of your cum and his saliva keeping him attached to you before breaking off. His goatee completely soaked, and his eyes dark with desire. "Worn out already, schatz?" Kurt's voice was almost deeper than normal, making your spine stiffen. "I'm not done with you...I...need...more." he grunted, his eyes closing briefly like he were at conflict with himself.

You sat up slightly, noticing this change in his demeanor. "Hey...I-I'm okay, just intense, is all..." you reassured him quietly, trying to offer some comfort and support. "I'm good...do you need to let it out?" you asked, your voice gentle and encouraging.

He nodded vigorously, clearly agreeing with you, but it was evident that he was still holding back his emotions. There was a tension in his expression, a struggle to contain whatever he was feeling inside. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his body was tense despite his nodding. It was clear that he needed to release whatever was weighing on him, but something was stopping him from doing so.

He was deeply scared of hurting you, a fear that gnawed at him constantly. He hadn't been so... forward... like this before, and the unfamiliarity of the situation only added to his anxiety. But he couldn't help it. Something primal and intense inside him screamed, clawing at his very skin, urging him to pounce on you.

This internal battle was relentless, and he found himself struggling more each day to keep it at bay, and you had noticed. Despite his best efforts to contain himself, the urge grew stronger and more overpowering with every passing moment. He looked down at you, how your breasts rose and fell with each breath, your pussy ingrained in his nose, that beautiful scent of your arousal...

He couldn't do it anymore.

Kurt crawled over you, his hand wrapped around your ankle and yanked you closer, his now unclothed cock hitting your pussy and he rubbed himself eagerly against you, slickening his shaft so the penetration would be easier on the both of you. However, his foreplay didn't last long, his body too eager and impatient now.

His hips jut forward, his cock sinking inside you in one swift thrust. You cried out in surprise, but he didn't give you a moment of reprieve before he began to thrust hard and fast.

He curled over you, his arms holding your hips up as his cock dove in and out of your cunt, his tail tightened around your body, expertly wrapping around those pretty breasts he loved. "Mine..." he growled deeply, his voice resonating with a possessive intensity. The word was almost lost within the animalistic snarl that erupted from his throat, a primal sound that echoed through the room.

You couldn't do anything but whine and let out mindless babbling as he fucked you into the mattress. You could barely think, the way he was fucking you drove you crazy and you could do nothing but watch him pound into you. He had never been this intense before, and you weren't complaining, of course. His new passion and possessiveness awakened something deep inside you, bringing a desperate mix of arousal and pure need.

"I-I'm going to...cum again..." you managed through your moans, his cock driving against your cervix, most definitely bruised by now, his precum coating it in a soothing balm. It was making you feel more eager for his cum, more addicted to how good he made you feel. You began to want his cock in you constantly, like his precum was some sort of aphrodisiac to your body's own primal instincts.

"Do it, liebling...I want you all over me...let me feel your pleasure." He snarled into your ear, his thrusts quickened as his mischevious tail spade slithered down and rubbed your swollen bud. You watched as he threw your legs over his shoulders and moved over you more, driving down into you over and over until your body felt like it exploded.

You screamed in pure ecstasy, your swollen sex clung to him and practically milked his cock as you creamed all over his dick. He bared his fangs and sunk them into you neck as he shot his load into you, his hips snapping forward once more and driving himself as far as he could possibly go. His cock's spongy head pressed a kiss to your cervix and shot directly into your womb.

Kurt held you tight for several minutes, the both of you a panting, sweaty mess. When he finally let go of you, he pulled out of your warm cunt, hissing slightly at the cruel harshness of the bedroom air. It didn't compare to your comforting, velvet walls. He grumbled in disappointment, still foggy with those desires and not completely himself just yet. You could see it in his eyes, the confusion as he wasn't all there.

You sighed, feeling his cum begin to pool out onto the bed and you whined, you always tried to prevent that. Your hand reached up, scratching his scalp before you gripped one of his horns, tugging him down. "Baby...look what you did...I'm a mess." Your voice whined gently, "See?"

You spread your cunt, letting him see how his cum was absolutely everywhere between your legs. His dark eyes completely focused on your core as he let out deep, yet sharp breaths. Your hand, still holding one of his horns, guided his head down to your pussy. "Clean me up...won't you? It's only fair..."

Kurt's eyes glanced up before he bit your inner thigh, licking up your skin before he dove right back into you, his tongue cleaning all of himself from you...and some. But this only started the cycle all over again...and soon he was on top of you. Even still...there was nothing to complain about.

When his little rut was over, he curled around you, your body a trembling mess and you were full of so many loads of his cum you forgot to count. At one point he didn't even stop thrusting, he just kept going until he physically couldn't anymore. He laid with his body gently wrapped around yours, holding you close with a tenderness that contrasted his previous fucking. His face was buried in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent that filled his senses with pure bliss.

In that moment, he was completely content. The loud, uncomfortable scratching at his soul, which had been a new torment to him since his horns appeared, was now gone. It had been quieted down and soothed by the mere presence of you, your warmth, and the tranquility you brought to his life.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Sins of Sinister: Dominion 001 (2023); Immortal X-Men #9 (2023); Legion of X #7 (2023)

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[channieskies]

L O S E R [HJS]

♫ Pairing: Han Jisung × Reader [F] ♫ Summary: His father disapproves of his life choices, and it subsequently causes a rift between the two of them. Jisung only has one person he feels he can rely on, his best friend. With hopes of becoming one of the biggest rockstars that ever lived, he embarks on a journey to fulfill his life dreams. Will he make his dreams come true with his friend by his side, or will he even sacrifice friendship to live out his fantasy's? ♪ WC: 19.7k [READING TIME: 40-60 MINS] ♪ AU: Highschool, Rockstar ♪ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff (adjacent), Friends to (??) ♪ Nets: @neverendingdreams-net & @mirohs-aurora-society ♫ A.N: I started writing this over a year ago (Nov 2023) and I've been writing on it little by little since then. When the "Hold My Hand" mv came out, I got burst of inspiration I needed to finish this. I took a while to finish, but it's here. This has not been proofread. Please reblog and leave a comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Special thanks to @therhythmafterthesummer thanks for rooting for me with this one. I don't think I could have finished it without your encouragement. Dividers by @saradika-graphics ♫ Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction. ♫ Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Unprotected sex (Be safe and wrap it up. This is fiction, a controlled narrative. I make the rules. Life isn't that simple, so be safe), creampie (semi), cum shot, slight degradation (male receiving), slight femdom/sub (male) dynamics, choking, cum play, cum eating, spiting, hair pulling (male receiving). Do not translate or repost here or on other sites. This chapter contains use of explicit language.

Loser, 외톨이, 센 척하는 겁쟁이 못된 양아치, 거울 속의 넌 Just a loser, 외톨이, 상처뿐인 머저리 더러운 쓰레기, 거울 속의 난, I'm a...

The words resounded in the back of Jisung's mind as he continued to feel the kicks and punches from his classmates. See, with him, you either liked him or you didn't. Sadly, there didn't seem to be an in-between. There was no indifference and there didn't seem to be many that liked him, either. He had a handful of acquaintances, but only one good, true friend. She was the light of his life, that and music. In times like this, when he was beaten and battered, cast out, and torn down by the world, he knew that if he just held on, she'd be there. 

There to comfort him, there to lift him up, there to hold his hand and tell him that it gets better. That's what he had to hold on to, “it gets better.” The promise of that alone gave him enough hope that he'd get through these tumultuous teenage years and one day look back at this and consider it a learning experience. Just something he could mark off as a growth exercise. At least that's what he hoped. He hoped to turn all the shity life struggles into art. His words, his life, his voice. He refused to be a loser.

Jisung wanted nothing more in life than to play his music for the people who appreciated it. For the most part that meant that he was playing it for a crowd of one, you. But he didn’t mind if the venue wasn’t fancy, or if it was just one person taking in the songs that he performed. Just the look of pure joy on your face from listening to his voice, gave him enough hope that one day he could do this on a larger scale. He just hoped that you would be one of the smiling faces when he looked out at the crowd.

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Prestige, influence, wealth. Was that really something worth betting your life and sanity on? According to his parents it was absolutely worth it. Those things were the reason the Han's were where they were in life and they would bite their tongues and die before ever going back to being poor and worthless. At least that's how his father saw things. “Jisung, you have to listen to your father. All he wants is for you to have a good life. Not waste it away-”

“Id waste away staying here. Mom…” He stopped throwing things in his bag to hold his mothers hands, to look her in the eyes. He wanted her, if no one else in this house, to understand why he had to leave. It wasn't about the constant fights with his father, or even the fact that he just couldn’t and probably would never live up to what his older brother had become. He wasn’t built for the life that his parents had set up for him. It physically pained him to even think of himself trapped in the box of boring, yet successful, that his parents wanted to fit him into.

No, he just felt unfulfilled, dead inside. He was slowly rotting away with every breath he took under the rule of his fathers thumb. “I can't let him dictate what should and should not make me happy. Music is everything to me, you know this. So please, just let me go. You know I can't survive here.” He dropped his head, looking at the floor, “He'll kill everything about me.. until there is no use in being alive.” He had made up his mind. Despite the comfort that being home provided him, he’d rather take his chances out on the streets than endure one more moment trapped inside of this amenity filled mansion.

His mother gasped. Just the thought of her baby not being on this earth anymore, crushed her. She pulled her son into a hug for what might be the last time. “There is money in my purse, take that with you. Okay?” She grabbed his face, taking in her son's features. She caressed his chubby cheeks and placed kisses on both. “I love you. Forever and always.” The front door slammed downstairs, alerting them to his father's arrival. The panic set in on both his and his mothers faces.

Oftentimes Mr. Han seemed like he hated Jisung, his own son, just like he hated people who weren't in the same social economic class as him. They had no drive or ambition according to him, no will to make their life better, to be better. As if people didn’t fall on hard times, or suffer from any mental illnesses, making it hard for them to keep a job. He was a hypocrite. Jisung’s grandfather didn’t keep a steady job for years, and the jobs he had were very low income. He provided for his family as best he could, but apparently people like that were scum to Jisung's father. Being poor and struggling were things that his father had long left behind. Along with things like passion, empathy, and even love.

“HAN JI SUNG! GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT.” Jisung's heart quickened with the sound of his fathers angry, booming voice. His anxiety was starting to kick in, his breathing picked up, just as his extremities started to lightly shake. He had to have heard about Jisung's outburst in school today, which resulted in the cops being called to his prestigious catholic high school. With his fathers position in the Mayors office, of course this news made it to him. The police probably went and told him the news themselves. This wasn't going to be good. 

“Go out the back, I'll distract him.” She kissed his forehead and headed down the stairs, swiftly. Jisung stuffed all the clothes he could into his duffle, and started out the door, just to stop in his tracks. Next to his bed was a picture of him and his best friend. The one person who could get him through anything. From breakups and heartbreak to bouts of depression, they had been through almost everything together. He grabbed the frame and carefully stuffed it into the bag. 

“I know he's here! Move out my way woman!” He pushed past his wife, physically moving the small woman out of his way. Jisung could hear his fathers heavy footsteps as he made his way up the grand staircase in the foyer. Panic began to flow through the young boy's body. Making sure the coast was clear, he headed out into the hall from his room. The nearest exit of sorts was way at the end of the hall, two whole bedrooms and a bathroom away from his little corner room upstairs. 

He wasn’t much of a runner, even if he was considered to be quick, but he put all of the techniques he’d learned in physical education to work, sprinting down the hall. He made it to his brother's old room and out onto the balcony. Even though he was deathly afraid of heights, this was his only option, if he wanted to escape. It was fight or flight, and he was sure if he tried to fight his dad he’d die. His dad was filled with rage at the current moment and that did not bode well for Jisung. All he could see over the edge was the garden that bordered the pool. 

His mothers pretty array of hibiscus flowers and the cherry blossom tree that sat not far from the window, well manicured and perfect, just like everything else in the Han family’s life. He could hear his father nearing closer, his booming voice filling the large halls and bouncing off the walls, even with the constant pitter patter of his fast beating heart. It was now or never. He closed his eyes, the voice of his best-friend rang through his head, “You can do anything you put your mind to, Ji.” It was like her words gave him wings. That was all the reassurance he needed. 

Just as his father burst through the door to his brother's room, Jisung took the leap. He landed on the bushes below with a loud thud. His father's head peaked over the balcony. “You better stay right where you are, young man.” There was a small tinting of something else besides anger and disdain on his fathers face. 

But Jisung didn’t have the time to try and decipher it as his father made his way back into his brother’s room. No, if he didn’t want to face whatever was coming his way via his fathers slightly justified anger, he needed to go. Jisung hurried to his feet, running out the back gate of their sprawling mansion grounds, never to look back again. 

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“Shit…” He'd been roaming for hours now. The afternoon had turned into evening. The beautiful blue tinted sky shifted into pinks and purples and now it was just pitch black. He had nowhere to go. His feet hurt, his stomach hadn’t stopped grumbling since he got a few miles away from home, and he was terribly tired. Then there also was the fact that he had stupidly left the money his mother wanted him to have, right where she told him it was. He was broke and homeless. Not the best combination at the young age of eighteen. But most had survived worse. At least that's what that weird side of youtube and tik tok said. He was sure he would make it too. At least that's what he hoped.

He walked aimlessly until the streets started to look familiar. The houses were smaller than the ones in his- well his parents neighborhood, but that didn’t make them small. The mini mansions had long curving driveways and tall fences to keep the riff raff out. Well, guess you could say he was the riff raff now. 

He was a delinquent with an extensive record. Trespassing, disorderly conduct, disturbing the peace, failure to disperse, affray, unlawful assembly, and resisting arrest, the last two were tacked on today. The other charges had been adding up since his fifteenth birthday. The only reason he was a free man was the simple fact that he was a Han. He knew that, and it ate away at his core.

Well manicured lawns with expensive cars in the park. This was your side of town. Your family was quite well off as well, just in a different way. Building on the wealth that your maternal grandfather had built for your family. Your parents weren’t as power thirsty as his father was. But that wasn’t saying that they didn’t take your future success in life very seriously. They did. Your schedule was often packed to the brim with extracurriculars and volunteering, just to make sure that your high school resume made it easier for you to get into a good university.

He recognized your street name and he took off in a sprint. Trying to hurry his way to your house. He needed to see you. He needed reassurance for you that he did the right thing by running away. Because without your words of encouragement, he doubted he’d be able to survive the night, let alone live like this. He’d just have to tuck his tail between his legs and go back home to receive whatever punishment his father deemed appropriate. He had nearly a block to go when the familiar sound of sirens and the look of security lights stopped him in his tracks. “Where are you headed to, son?” Jisung sighed. He didn’t need this right now.

“My friend lives on the next block.” 

The guard got out of his car and approached Jisung, an uncertain expression on his face. He didn’t even attempt to hide it. The round and nearly bald, older man looked Jisung up and down, eyes doubtful of his story. “Right, and what is this friend's name?” The man pulled out an iPad with a list of residents in this large subdivision. 

“Y/l/n, Y/n. She lives with her parents…” He sighed, “Dr. And Mr.'s Y/l/n.” Jisung peered over the tablet to see if he could find you, only to find the guard way too immersed in a game of candy crush. “Seriously?” 

The security guard cleared his throat and tapped out of his games screen. “What was the name again?” with an exasperated sigh, Jisung told him your information again. He quickly contacted them, stepping away from Jisung to talk. 

“Yes, good evening. This is Sheldon with Rutherglen Security. I was out on patrol this evening when I spotted a young man out on a run with a duffle bag. When I stopped him he informed me he was trying to go see the daughter of this residence..- ah, his name?” He looked back at Jisung who was impatiently tapping his fingers on his jeans as he stood in the middle of the road, bag strapped across his chest. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Jisung. Han Jisung.” The man nodded and looked away again.

“Jason? Han Jason- Oh okay. I'll make sure to drop him off expeditiously.” He hung up and turned to the boy again. “I guess your story adds up. Get in. I'll drop you off.” He said nothing more and made his way around the tiny smart car, getting in. Jisung eyed the vehicle apprehensively. The window slowly rolled down, “On with it! I don't have all night.” 

The ride was short, he was nearly a block away when he was stopped. The gates to the driveway opened, revealing the lit up rounded pathway that led to the cream colored, French style home with black accents. It was traditional enough not to stick out, but still had a bit of modern flare to it. Truthfully, Jisung always thought your parents were like their house. Vocal, but both vocal enough to rock the boat. 

Some of their opinions didn’t line up with the traditional values of the overall community of Rutherglen, and he admired that. The security guard parked right in front of the house. Jisung could see someone jogging down the staircase inside. The lights in the house lit up with motion, so it made sense to him. The wooden door swung open to reveal a very winded girl, dressed in a band tee and bicycle shorts. 

“Haven't you gotten yourself in enough trouble today?” You rushed out before he could even unbuckle his seat and open the door. “Thank you so much…” Your eyes met the security guards as you leaned into the open window.

“Sheldon.” The security guard nodded.

“Sheldon. Thank you so much.” You opened the door for your friend only for Sheldon to speak up again.

“Excuse me, but are your parents home? I need to go over this with them.” You ushered Jisung out of the car and closed the door, leaning on it as you peeked your head in once again.

“My father is away at a medical conference and my mother is in the Maldives on vacation after major surgery, neither would like to be disturbed. But if you want to hear what my dad sounds like when he's angry, you can give him a ring.” Your voice sounded so sweet, but threatening at the same time. Like honey with the sting of a ghost pepper.

“Ah- no, that's fine. I'll just send them a write up. Have a good night.” He cranked the car back up. “And son, try to stay off the streets at night. You looked like you were up to no good.” 

Before Jisung could answer you interjected, “He will, no worries. Have a beautiful night, Sheldon. Stay safe out there.” With nothing left to say, you pulled your friend into your house and up the stairs to your room. As if the two of you weren't alone, you closed the door. “What they hell, Ji? Your mom called me worried sick, saying you'd gone off and run away. What the hell?” You hissed. You paced back and forth, mind racing.

He sighed, letting the bag he had bared the weight of for just a few hours, fall from him. He was tired and it hadn't even been a day yet. “I.. I couldn't take it anymore. I just knew what he was going to say. What he was going to tell me. How he was going to lay into me for not being good enough. How disappointed he was. How much he wished I could be more like my brother. I just… I couldn't deal with it anymore. He already thinks I'm a failure for not making the grades my brother made. But now I'm even more of a failure.” He plopped onto your fluffy purple bean bag that was situated in your reading nook. 

“Music is to be listened to, not pursued, according to him. I shouldn't entertain these ludicrous fantasies. You know where he took me the other day? To the unhoused encampment near the city center. He told me I'd end up there if I didn't listen to him and do as I was told.” He looked dejected and you wanted to do nothing more than to hold him and tell him everything will be alright. “I guess I just… beat him to the punch.” You sighed, your heart broke for him. He didn't deserve to be treated like that, no one did, really. But especially not Jisung.

“You aren't unhoused, just yet. Tomorrow, I'll skip school and we can look around to find some place to rest your head. Until my parents get back, you can stay here with me. I could use the company.” You could feel a bit of the burden lift off his shoulders and for the first time in a very long time, you saw him smile. He needed this pep talk more than you knew. It made his heart feel a little bit lighter knowing he wouldn’t be navigating this big change in his life without you.

“You know, I don't know what I'd do without you.” He stood unexpectedly and crossed the room to you, pulling you into a tight hug. “You're the best.” You could feel he meant it as he melted into you. He really didn't know what he would do without you. It sounded cliche, but you were literally the wind beneath his wings, his better half. Without you there was no him. He would have come crashing down to earth long ago if it wasn't for you. Your encouraging words always kept him uplifted. Your support always made him strive to be the best at whatever it was he was trying to pursue this week. You were his everything. 

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The next morning you woke up as early as you would for school. You were the top of your class, in line to be valedictorian. They might miss you today, but that didn’t matter as long as you made sure that your best friend was taken care of. Jisung had been there through the worst years of your life. He was quite literally your only friend. The only one who cared enough to stick around when it seemed that everyone in the world turned their back on you, just because the glitter of popularity seemed too tempting to say no to. 

In your freshman year of school your long time best friend Michelle, someone you'd known since babyhood, decided that her popularity over summer break wasn't worth losing. She'd hit puberty and filled out, so that made her popular with older boys. She couldn't take being seen with a “flat chested loser,” like yourself. She acted as though you hadn’t been friends all your lives. She started ignoring you, and the kicker, started rumors that you were doing sexual favors for the grades you were receiving. She knew better, you'd tutored her the summer before, just to make sure she'd have an easy transition into high school. Maybe you should have let her flounder.

You met Jisung during your summer vacation that same year. It was fate, really. You found out he'd moved around a lot before his family decided to settle in Rutherglen. His father had political aspirations, and this would be the perfect place to put down roots and start the career he always wanted. The way he described his folks almost sounded like how yours were. Father with big aspirations to be something better than what his father was. Mother who cares, but will ultimately side with the father. Plus you both had siblings. His older brother that was amounting to big things in life and your younger brother, two years your junior, who was the love of your mothers life. 

You bonded on your love of anime and rock music. Even your views of the world seemed to align. You spent every waking hour with that boy. You exchanged numbers and the rest was history. You'd been inseparable since. So giving up a few hours or days to help your one and only best friend, no matter the circumstances, was absolutely necessary. 

The boy slept like a log. But you understood, he had a hell of a day the day before. He got arrested for staging a protest on campus grounds for LGBTIQ+ rights, which wasn’t the smartest move to make on the campus of an ultra conservative Christian school. His stances went against the school's clear directive, that gay relationships were blasphemous and against all of their beliefs. And though you agree with him, that love is love and should be accepted as such. You knew it would ruffle too many feathers, especially if he didn’t go about it the right way. 

The protest was a mess. He had only managed to get a few students on his side, and they mostly backed out right before the protest was set to begin. The signs the both of you stayed up to make were torn by the kids that liked to ridicule you and bully Jisung. Then when asked by the headmaster to disassemble, Ji stood ten toes down and even cuffed himself to the door that led from the courtyard and into the school. That's how the cops were called. Then he ran away from home. On top of all of that, he almost got detained on his way to your house. 

He deserved to sleep as hard and as long as he wanted. But time was of the essence and him finding at least a roof was imminent. Jisung sounded like a vacuum cleaner as he snored. His mouth was wide open. One leg was under your mattress, how it got there you didn't know and you certainly weren't going to ask. The blanket was wrapped around him like a cocoon and both his hands were stretched above his head like he was superman.

You'd say he looked like a boy with no problems, that was if you didn't know any better. He had plenty of problems. Ones that needed to be handled immediately, you had a “parents are coming home any day now" , type of deadline. You shook him, “Ji, wake up.” He groaned, body flailing a bit. You sighed heavily. His mother told you once that the dead would wake up before she would be able to wake up Jisung in the morning. You could see why she said that now.

“Five more minutes, please?” He pouted in his sleep. The morning sun in its dusty blue haze was starting to peek through the curtains, you needed all the daylight you could afford. 

“No. Get up!” You smacked his chest right over his nipple and he jolted up with a yelp, hitting his head on the ledge of your nightstand. He knocked your lamp over, making it fall to the ground with a hard thud.

“Ow! Why, Y/n?” His pout deepened as he rubbed his head. He looked at you like you’d told him you no longer wanted to be friends. Maybe it was part of his sadness from yesterday that was seeping into the look he was giving you. You didn’t know, but you also didn’t like it. You never wanted him to be sad. To you, he deserved nothing but unadulterated joy. You thought he looked the most handsome when he smiled and nothing else should ever be painted across his lips.

His other hand moved to the spot you smacked, rubbing it while still rubbing the spot on his head. You snorted as you took in the sight, but quickly covered it with concern, seeing that he really was in pain. “I- I'm sorry Ji, I didn't mean to startle you. I just need you up so we can get started. Let me see, yeah?” You moved his hand and inspected the area that had hit your side table. You couldn't see any significant damage past his hair. You kissed the general area. “There. All better?” 

His face heated up, immediately. His thoughts rushed to anything impure he could think of at the moment. He couldn’t help that he was touched starved. He hadn’t had any action since his ex-boyfriend, Minho, graduated over a year ago. Plus, he hadn’t quite come to terms with his new found -okay, maybe they weren’t new and he’s loved you since he first met you,- feelings. Jisung kept his head turned away from you, afraid you'd see the blush that had tinted his cheeks.

“Mhm.” He nodded. Keeping his response simple. He didn’t want you to see his face and use that big brain of yours to figure out just what thoughts plagued his mind about you.

“Well come on, let's get dressed and eat so we can find you some place to stay for a while.” 

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Your mother had been a real estate agent for the past twenty years. She was one of the highest grossing real estate agents in the state. Her vacant properties -which she had plenty of- were what you were going to start with. You'd have to pay extra careful attention to what ones hadn't been looked at in a while and make sure to keep whichever one you settled on that way. “What about that one?” Jisung pointed to a listing of a single family home that was a town over.

“Neighbors would notice. You wouldn't want to be arrested for squatting. I’m sure your dad would love that.” You kept scrolling as he looked over your shoulder, leaning on his hand that was on your arm rests. “It needs to be some place close enough to where I could get to you in case of emergencies, but far enough away from others so they won’t be suspicious.” You chewed on your lip. 

Jisung tried to keep his eyes to himself, but something about the way you looked when you were in full concentration always made his heart flutter. He sighed wistfully. Before all of this happened, he had plans to ask you to be his date to prom. He hoped that if the night turned out well, that he would ask you to be his girlfriend. But he went and fucked things up. His dad did always say he was a good for nothing fuck up. Maybe there was a bit of harsh truth in his words.

“Oh just be honest with yourself, you'd miss me too much if I went too far away.” He chuckled, clearing out his dark thoughts with a joke. Little did he know, he was right. In the four years you'd gotten to spend time with him, even vacations away from each other seemed like torture. Your mother commented once that she'd,

‘Never seen two people who weren't in love, be so attached at the hip. You can’t find one without the other.’ You supposed she was right. A bond like the one you and Jisung had was rare. You considered him your soulmate, your person. So, no, you didn't want him to be too far away. You honestly didn't think you'd be able to handle that. It’s also a part of the reason you were afraid to open any of the letters you’d received from prospective universities. You wanted to stay close to home, but your parents insisted you leave the state, to do and see more. You thought you’d seen enough through traveling and would be just fine close to home and Jisung.

“Don't flatter yourself.” You rolled your eyes to sell the act you were putting on. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.” 

He scoffed, “Your delusions are getting worse each day. You do realize you're like zero for three at this point, right? I got arrested, expelled, and I'm homeless, and that's all from one day!” You rolled your eyes so hard it was surprising they didn't just roll out of your head.

“How is that my fault? Before the protest I told you to talk to the headmaster to get permission or at least someone on faculty to let them know, but you didn't. You could have talked to the civics teacher, I'm sure she would have happily let us protest. Then when asked to disband, you laid into things harder as if the lack of permission wasn't bad enough. It was for a good cause, yes, but you have to know your limits. You cuffed yourself to the door, Jisung. Like, Seriously?! Then you resisted arrest… I have no words to express how stupid that was. So it's no wonder you got expelled, you broke multiple school rules and managed to get arrested, again.” 

You shook your head. You weren’t disappointed in him, you’d leave that to his father. But you did feel he could have gone about things a little differently. “You didn't even bother telling me that you were running away. We could have planned for this. I could have done something to help before you packed your bags. Least you could have done is let me pick you up.” His arms moved from the arm rest to wrap around you. 

He knew he had you worried, just by the way your eyes looked when you came outside. But his mind was in disarray last night. As soon as he walked in parents house yesterday afternoon he could feel all of what was going to come down on him when his father came home. It was like his mind's eye was open and he could see the immediate future. Said future was telling him he needed to run. That he needed to get out of there before his life ended in that stupid house.

“You can be so annoyingly right sometimes. But it wouldn't be very punk of me if I took the easy way out. Plus, arrest records give me street cred.” You sighed heavily and pushed him away. You couldn’t deal with his strange ideologies right now, you were trying to prevent him from being a common, unhoused, delinquent.

“You're an Idiot.” You mumbled under your breath. You didn't really mean it though. Yes, Jisung made brash, spur of the moment decisions. Yes, they resulted in him being in trouble more often than not. But, Jisung was far from an idiot. Really, he bordered the lines of being a genius. At least to you. He was honestly one of the most sincere and compassionate people you'd ever met. Plus his talent for writing, music, drawing, hell anything he put his mind to creatively, was unmatched. Just don't ask him to play sports. Now, that's when he seemed like an idiot.

“This is it!! Ji, look!” You pointed to the screen, shaking the monitor just from the force. 

“Is that… a van?” You could hear the disgust in his voice, you didn’t even have to look at his face to know his feelings. “You want me to… live in a van?” He grabbed the mouse, scrolling down the page. “There has got to be something… better… right?” It seemed like that was the last property with an actual structure on it, everything else was just land or warehouses. 

“Would you rather a tarp and a cardboard box? Because that might be your only other option.” You quickly pointed out, taking the mouse back from him. “I’m sure one of these vacant warehouses can house you. That is, if you are willing to share your space with roaches, rats, and other creepy crawlies.” He flailed at your words, throwing a small tantrum. 

“Why~ Y/n? Can't I just… stay in your basement or attic or something?” He flopped on your mom's office sofa, still kicking around.

“Because, if my father finds you, He’ll end your life and you know it.” Jisung shuddered at the thought. Your father tolerated him, he always had. He understood that the two of you were friends, but if anything other than friendship happened to spark, he’d flip. He was the type of man that thought his daughter should “preserve her innocence until marriage.” So, that meant he was constantly breathing down your throat about promiscuity and how you should wait. 

That boys, especially ones like Jisung, were not worth your time. He had even had ideal suitors lined up for you to meet during your eighteenth birthday. Someone from a good home with a promising future. Not a homeless dreamer that got expelled from school and ran away from home. To your father, the man for you could never be Jisung, and he had made that known to the both of you in one way or another.

“And he knows exactly what to give me to kill me too. He probably would donate my body to the med school too, just for good measure.” Jisung shuddered at the thought. “Damn it, I hate when you're right.” Your father petrified him. You didn't know this, and he planned on never telling you that your father threatened him the first time they met. Not the first time you introduced them, but the first time they met at the resort. 

Your father had followed you, to make sure you weren't up to anything questionable with the boy you grew so fond of so quickly. He observed from afar, until Jisung got up to use the bathroom. The man towered over the boy, his imposing figure casting a large shadow over him.

“Listen here. That girl that you're chatting up, that's my baby. And as my baby, she gets the benefit of the doubt, you on the other hand, do not. If you're thinking about having sex with my daughter, think twice.” He leaned in, getting down to Jisung's level. 

“I have friends in high and low places. If I wanted to make you disappear, all it would take is a snap of my fingers and poof, you're gone. If you lay a hand on my baby, I'll make sure that's the last time you touch anything with it at all.” It seemed that with every word he spoke he backed him further and further towards the wall, until his back finally hit it. “Keep your hands and your dick to yourself. Understand me?” Jisung nodded slowly, afraid any other action would piss your dad off. “Good.” He patted the boy's shoulder. “Now, hurry up and get back to her. You don't want to keep her waiting for too long, now do you?” Jisung felt like he couldn’t breathe until your father disappeared from his vision. He slid to the ground once the man was gone. That was the day he was glad he had a strong bladder.

So, there was no way in hell he'd be caught here. He didn't want to end up in a ditch somewhere, rotting or worse, he had dreams to fulfill. “Let me see if the lights and water are in my mom's name for this property…” You murmured under your breath. “She doesn't check when small amounts come out of her account. So, as long as you keep your usage low, you should be fine there.” Jisung sat up to look at you, now that his little tantrum was finally over.

All of his thoughts about your father had ceased. Now all he could think about was his fear of losing you. To wake up and not be able to hear your voice, or see your face. How could he survive the wild without you? “Will you come visit me?” You stopped clicking around once you heard the sadness in his voice. You quickly turned around in the office chair to face him. 

“Why would you ask a stupid question like that? You know I will. You living in a weird van can't keep me away. Even if it looks like you’d kidnap children in it.” He laughed at that, your joke lifting his spirits a little. “Now, if you were living in a cardboard box, you might not see me as much.” He kissed his teeth this time, only for you to laugh.

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“How much further is it?” Jisung asked, trailing behind you. You had to ditch the car, the trail was too narrow and overgrown for you to drive it. He hated walking long distances almost as much as he hated running. He was one of the few people who failed physical education, much to the coach's chagrin. They had stated previously that he had the potential to be a great track star. Yeah, that wasn’t remotely the kind of star he wanted to be.

“I think it's just up ahead, there is supposed to be a clearing…” Jisung had his bag and the guitar he had at your house for safekeeping. The one he had at home had been tossed out onto the drive from a second story window. You had a boatload of cleaning supplies, including a mop, bucket, and broom. This place had been abandoned for over a year and a half now, it had to be gross on the inside. 

You could hear him sputtering behind you as he swatted away bugs. “There was no way you could have survived on the outside.” You mumbled, shaking your head. If you were honest, both of you were spoiled little rich kids. Neither of you could survive, especially not without the other. “There!” You couldn't calm the excitement you felt as you saw the silhouette of the van through the trees.

“Fina-fucking-ly.” Jisung huffed, ready to at least take a seat and rehydrate himself. But you had other plans. You opened the van door, the smell of hot air whooshed past you. The pocket door revealed the small kitchen. A sink, floor to ceiling pantry and a counter with a hotplate on top and a mini fridge underneath. You climbed in first.

“This isn't as bad as I thought it would be. At least you have the basic amenities.” You nodded, crawling around on your knees, unaware that Jisung was still standing outside. Apprehension had started creeping its way into Jisung’s subconscious. All the what if's seemingly flying at him all at once. 

“What if you fail? Do you really think she’ll remain friends with a loser that is also a failure?” “What happens when you are here in the dark by yourself?” “What if no one likes your music?” “What if she finds someone else that makes her happier than you do?” “What happens when one of those picks that her father likes sweeps her off her feet? What happens to you then?”

“I don't think I can do this.” He turned on his heels, ready to head back to the car. 

“Ji, wait!” You quickly exited the van to give chase, he had barely made it back to the tree line before you stopped him. His face was red, both from the heat of walking and also from him trying his best to hold back his tears. Maybe he jumped the gun running away from home. He only had two or three months left before graduation, he could have made it that long. But here he was, in the middle of the woods, looking at an abandoned van as prospective housing. 

“If you give up now, you might as well give up on your dreams. Going back home means all of this was for nothing. You might as well throw away all the sheet music and demos you’ve made and go ahead and pick up the law books he was forcing you to read, because you will never do music again if you go back now. Do you want to let your dad win?” He stopped dead In his tracks. Leaving now did mean he was giving up. Going back home to a father that thought of him as nothing but a useless loser was not an option. It might be hard to tough it out, but it wasn’t anything he couldn't get used to. 

He sighed heavily, shoulders drooping with the harsh exhale of breath. “God, I hate that you're always right.” You chuckled. “But, I love it at the same time.” He turned to face you, taken back by the ethereal glow the backdrop of the clearing gave you. You looked otherworldly, a type of beauty that he could never fully wrap his head around. You were the type of person people wrote songs about. He wouldn’t admit it to you, but he was one of those said people. He stood there like he wanted to say something, but he just shook his head, letting the thought go. “You have to promise to come see me often. I… I can't do this alone.” You smiled brightly and he reciprocated. How could he not? To him, you had the most radiant smile. 

“Wouldn't have it any other way.” You reached for him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I'll always have your back.”

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Loneliness. That's what he expected to feel out on his own. His first night was full of it. Every little creek and bump in the night caused him to stir. Afraid that a random serial killer would happen upon his trailer and brutally kill him. Truth was, he just watched too many horror films, October wasn’t that long ago after all. Plus, the two of you loved to break tradition and watch horror and thriller in place of cheesy Christmas love stories where there was always a small town guy and a big city girl who fight their differences to fall in love with each other, while simultaneously saving the town's failing get-together spot. It was always the same trope in a different font and you both hated it. 

When a particularly loud sound pulled him from his sleep, his immediate response was to call you. He’d had enough run-ins with the cops to know not to call them when he was squatting on some middle of nowhere abandoned property. He knew that your soothing voice would be the one thing that would calm him down. It was the only thing that made him feel safe. Just hearing your voice would save him from drowning or bring him back from the brink of death.

“Mhm.” Even with just a hum he knew you had been in a deep slumber. It hadn’t even been the blaring ringtone that woke you up, it was the bright screen of Jisung doing his happy dance after trying the cheesecake you made him for his last birthday.

“Will you stay on the phone with me? It's… Kind of scary out here by myself.” He could hear you shuffling, before settling. Jisung was used to being alone; between his parents traveling for work and his brother being away, loneliness was a constant for the boy. But he knew you were always a phone call away. You’d never failed to answer his call, even if you were asleep or busy; you always made time for him.

“Have you been to sleep, Ji? It's like after four.” Your speech was still slurred, but he found it comforting.

“Yeah. But I keep hearing things.” He played with the fringe on one of the throw pillows you'd lifted from your parents' guest house.

“Want me to sing our song?” He knew you hated to sing, you felt that you couldn't. But he liked for you to sing to him, just for him. Felt like a warm embrace. Your voice was sweet and angelic.

“Please?” You chuckled softly.

Clearing your throat, you started to sing. “Wherever you are, I'll always make you smile.

"Wherever you are, I'm always by your side. Whatever you say, you're always on my mind. I promise you "forever" right now.”

He could feel himself sinking into the mattress underneath him. The worries of the day mentally melting off of him with each word you sang. You were his comfort. He closed his eyes as you continued to sing.

“Someone I can love from my heart. Someone I love from the bottom of my heart. In the center of this love. You are my heart…” 

You paused, hearing the light snoring through the receiver. You couldn't help the sleepy smile that spread over your face. “Goodnight, Ji. Love you.” You hung the phone up quickly, missing his sleep riddled reply.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

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The weeks passed by slowly, turning into months. You meant it when you said you’d visit. You were over at Jisung’s place almost every day. Even when things got a little hectic in your schedule you still made time for him. He appreciated that, he really did. But something was off with you. He felt it deep down, every time you canceled on him, or changed the subject when all he asked was a simple question. You were keeping something from him and it wasn’t anything small either. 

Jisung was sitting on the floor of his van, feet dangling out of the open sliding door, plucking at his guitar. There wasn’t much inspiration flowing as of late. Not when his mind was occupied with you and the secret you were keeping from him. He wanted to know, just wanted to come right out and ask you what you were hiding. But he knew if he was going to ask, he needed to do it gently. You’d shut down if he forced you to tell him what was up. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts he didn’t see you come out of the clearing. Not even the dry grass crunching under your sandals could pull him from deep within his thoughts.

“Ji, I think your ears are smoking. You okay?” The sound of your voice snapped him out of it. His fingers stopped what they were doing and he sat up. 

“Huh? My what are what-ing?” He moved his hand to his ear, feeling for whatever substance you said was coming out his ear, only to realize you were joking. He chuckled. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?” His class graduated today. Instead of being out, celebrating with you and taking pictures of this great day, he was stuck in his van. Barred from coming within fifty feet of the school. 

“Are you dumb? What kind of celebration would it be if you weren’t with me?” You pulled your hand that he hadn’t realized you were hiding until you flashed your diploma. “I’m free… from well.. High School.” You chuckled. “Those last few months were tough without you, Ji. I had no one to talk to.” You sighed, but his only response was to hum.

The tension had built up in his head, his intrusive thoughts winning the ongoing battle in his head. “What are you hiding from me?” He spoke suddenly, not even bothering to look in your eyes as he asked. 

You shook the diploma cover you held in your hand, “My diploma. Is… is everything alright, Ji?” You looked at him confused. Chalking it up to maybe he’d been out here too long by himself. It had been two days since the last time you were by, you just couldn’t free up time.

“No, it’s not alright. You have been acting strange for the last month or so.” He sat his guitar down and jumped down out of the van, coming face to face with you. “You know you can trust me, so, why are you hiding something from me?” 

You thought you’d been acting normal. Trying to keep those feelings of betrayal from seeping out of your pores like bottom shelf liquor. “I…” He was right, you had been hiding something, from the fear of feeling like you’d lose him if you told him the truth. 

He sighed, frustration taking over his expression. Being a forced recluse had taken its toll on Jisung. Jisung might have had most of the things a person with an actual apartment had. He had a kitchen, albeit a small one. He had a place to sleep, and a makeshift living room. He had a sink and could go pee outside, plus a hose to hose down with in place of showers.. He had to walk a few miles to the local gym to handle other things like real grooming, so his hard on his face and the top of his head had grown out tremendously. Not to mention places you hadn’t seen.

Jisung had gotten a job in town, and used you as a reference. Now he worked the night shift at a gas station. It gave him something to do in the meantime, to help him save up to move somewhere other than this ultra conservative little town so he could pursue his dream. He had always hoped you’d get accepted somewhere cool so he could tag along and get some gigs. He always wanted to be wherever you were.

“Please, just tell me the truth.” His voice was soft. He just wanted to know the truth.

You sighed, eyes focused on the diploma in your hand. “I’m leaving.” You spoke, but you stayed planted in your spot. Jisung looked at you confused. 

“Now? Or…”

“Right before school starts. I… I got accepted into the university of my dreams…. Ji…” The sadness in your voice was palpable. The excitement hit him before the realization hit. You’d been talking about where you really wanted to go if you ever got the chance. It was in a different country, halfway across the globe. You were leaving. For real.

He took a moment. He didn’t want to seem bitter that you were leaving him. But, you were leaving him. His rock was leaving him to float away. You kept his mind grounded, what was he going to do with you gone?

“I.. I’ve been afraid to tell you. I wanted to tell you in my own way, whenever I was ready. But… It never seemed like a good time.” You were picking at a loose string on the hand stitched leather cover.

It felt like an eternity before Jisung spoke again. “You’re leaving… for uni?” You looked up, alarmed by his voice which was devoid of any type of feeling.

"What happened to us sticking together? Staying close to each other?" He frowned, "So.. you're leaving m-..?" He paused, but quickly corrected himself. "You are leaving Rutherglen?"

“Yes, in a few months.” You nodded, hoping that if you explained you had time before you went it would help him to process it better.

He was trying his best to keep all of his emotions from spilling out like an over boiling pot, but he couldn’t keep it in. “How long have you known?” 

Your brows creased into a frown. “How long have I known that I wanted to go there? You know the answer-”

He stopped you mid-sentence. “How long have you known that you were leaving? How long have you known that you were leaving me behind?” His voice came out calm, but it was the type of calm that led to murders.

“Ji- I- don't know. I just.. I wanted to tell you but I was afraid of how to say it-”

“How long?!” He snapped, scaring the both of you. You’d never witness this side of him. The shade of anger almost reminded you of his father. “Y/n.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

You cut him off this time. “A month.” You spoke matter-of-factly. “I got the letter a month ago and I’ve been riddled with anxiety while trying to figure out how to tell you. You know this is all I ever wanted and I-”

You felt the wind get knocked out of you before you could finish your sentence. “Go.” You stopped speaking as the cold word left your best friend's mouth. “I don’t need you to stay here for my sake. I’ll be just fine by myself.” He didn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth, but somehow, you did. You took a few steps back away from him.

He didn’t dare look at your face, too afraid it would break his heart and make it even harder to say goodbye.

He had to let you go. He knew that and you knew that. All he would be doing is holding you back if he tried to convince you to stay closer to him. He knew this was your dream and he needed to support that. Because all you ever did was support him. He felt it was finally his turn to do the same for you.

If he didn’t let go now, he definitely wouldn’t be able to a few months from now. If he didn’t rip the Band-Aid off now, the wound would never heal. “Just fucking go.” He wanted to congratulate you, tell you just how good you did. That despite all of the hurdles you faced you still came out on top. You deserved to be celebrated. But he couldn’t do that with you, not right now. Not when he was on the verge of ripping his own heart out. He let his long bangs cover his eyes so you wouldn’t look into them and see the immediate regret they held. “Why are you still standing here? GO!” 

You swallowed the enormous lump in your throat. He wouldn’t get your tears, he didn’t deserve them. You couldn’t wrap your head around why he was so upset. You wanted to tell him, you really did. But how do you go about telling your best friend that you won't be able to see them again until some miscellaneous holiday? If that. Your family had money, but you doubt they would even care enough to fly you back and forth, especially if it was just to see some boy.

“Ji, I’m sorry I wanted to-” He stopped you before you could finish by getting in the van and shutting the door right in your face. He could show you better than he could tell you that he wanted you gone. You sucked in a deep breath and turned your back on the van. It took everything in you not to turn around, you didn’t want to say goodbye, especially not like this. Jisung on the other hand, only pretended to let his anger get the best of him. He retreated to his bed as soon as the door closed. He watched silently as your back disappeared into the brush. The sadness took over as soon as he couldn’t see your back anymore. 

This was the end of the best thing he’d ever had. The closest thing he’d ever felt was close to true unconditional love.

The passage of time is a funny thing. One moment you are crying your eyes out because what you thought was your person turned their back on you. Then you traveled halfway across the world to get your degree and ended up spending four more years in another place to get your doctorate. Now you are sitting at your younger brother’s wedding rehearsal. Just who gets married at the ripe age of twenty-two? He just got the hang of legal drinking, for Christ's sake. When did he even get this big? 

Things were hectic, especially considering you were his “best man”, like he didn’t have a male friend to fill the role. You would have been perfectly fine just sitting out with your parents as a bystander. Thankfully you were pretty familiar with his friends and his soon to be husband. Plus you knew the ins and outs of his life, even if you didn’t want to. He said he trusted you more than anyone, that's why he picked you. You couldn’t say no to that, even if you desperately wanted to. 

The wedding was beautiful. His family also came from money, so they spared no expense to make sure that their ‘Lovely boy”, as they affectionately called him, got everything he wanted. That included a destination all the way in lovely Spain, Ibiza to be exact. Your parents paid for the reception, and of course, married or not, no one was going to outdo them when it came to their favorite child. They rented out a whole hotel with beautiful vistas of the Ibizan coastline. Your brother also wanted them to pay for Beyonce to come and perform, but they quickly shot that down, which you found funny. Instead He asked for another artist, one that his now husband seemed to love.

You had just finished taking a picture with the wedding party, successfully embarrassing your little brother with a big kiss on the cheek in the last photo. You couldn’t be happier for his happiness. He pulled you to the side, as the others gathered to make their entrance to the reception. “Sis, I couldn’t thank you enough for all you've done for me.” He put a hand on your shoulder, looking down at you with your mothers smile. Seriously, when did he get so big? “I know things haven't always been smooth sailing between us. I didn’t have nearly as many things to overcome, being that I'm the baby and mom's favorite after all.” He laughed and you playfully scowled. 

“But, I recognize, and I'm thankful for every sacrifice you've made as my older sibling. Without your encouragement I would have never gone to law school, which means I would have never met the love of my life. I'd still be miserable trying to remember all the fucking funky ass medical terms.” You laughed at that, the boy was struggling. He wanted to follow in your fathers footsteps, just to make him proud. But you’d convinced him that he could make him proud just by being himself and succeeding in something he actually loved. It turned out you were right, but when weren’t you? “I needed you to tell me to find something that made me happy. So, my question to you now is, are you happy, sis?” He slid his hand from your shoulder into yours. “I don’t mean with work, we all know you love your job. Dr. Y/L/n.” You smiled, but you didn’t answer the question immediately.

For years now, it felt as if something was missing from your life. But you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. You’d been in a few relationships since you’d left Rutherglen, you’d even been engaged. You’d made friends along the way, some you were even still close to. But for the most part, nothing ever felt worth the effort to keep. Maybe it was the trauma you’d felt from all of your failed high school relationships that found a way to creep into the ones you’ve tried to make. Maybe it was just some weird void left there by the person you thought was your person. Who knows? But, you were alone. But you didn’t feel like you were lonely, per-se. You filled whatever deep well of emptiness with traveling and good food. 

Your brother gave you a look and it caused you to sigh. “I’m good. This is you and Liam’s day, Aaron. I know you want to save the world and all, but you can’t solve all my problems. At least, not today anyway.” You chuckled. It was sweet that he was concerned about you, it really was. But, you’d been trying to deal with whatever this hole was for over eight years now. You found that it was either something that you get used to, or you try to fill. You just decided to get used to it. There was no use in trying to fill the black hole left in your heart by-

“It’s time to head in, you two.” The wedding planner snapped you out of your thoughts. You smiled up at your younger brother before tugging him along to join the rest of the wedding party.

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“Thank you, Manchester!” The crowd roared as Jisung threw his sweaty and torn tee-shirt out into the pit of fans. He and his band Mortal Savages were promoting their latest album, Awkward Example, on tour. This was the last stop on the European leg of the junket, after they had toured the world. He rushed off stage as the throng of fans started to get rowdier than they already were. A small mosh pit was starting to form in the middle and he honestly wanted no parts of that. Last time they waited around while that happened, he lost a tooth and ended up with a concussion and a busted guitar. 

His assistant handed him a bottle of water as he exited the stage. “Your flight is in two hours, Mr. Han. I have arranged a private car to pick you up from your hotel and take you to the airport.” Jisung nodded, listening idly. He just wanted to unwind, before heading to this small gig he and the rest of his band had been booked for. If it wasn’t for this being a special request of a friend of a friend, he’d be headed right back to Seoul with his band.

See, Jisung had made quite a name for himself over the past eight years. After he pushed you out of his life, he picked up the pieces as best he could. Using your exit as motivation. He hoped that you wouldn’t hate him forever, that one day the two of you would reunite. But in case you didn’t, he wanted to use the little bit of light you’d shone in his life to really make something of himself. He started small, busking a few towns over in a big city.

That landed him a few gigs here and there like weddings and bar mitzvahs. As much fun as those were, he had bigger dreams. He started to post short covers on tik tok and things kind of picked up from there. He was recognized by an artist that wanted to start his own label and the rest was history. He’d found his people. He put together his own band from some people he’d met in circles while touring by himself. People who had small fanbases, but great potential. 

Hyunjin, his bassist, was a model. He played bass in his free time and had a few videos posted on his insta account of him playing. He was suggested to him by a secretary at the company. Okay, maybe suggested was a strong word. She had a crush on the bassist, so it was only natural that she suggested Jisung look into him. He did, and he loved his style. Hyunjin introduced him to Felix, his closest friend, a twitch gamer that just so happened to know how to play guitar, and had a pretty surprising set of vocal cords on him. It was only natural he asked him to join the group. 

He found Jeongin in a jazz bar of all places. The kid was a classically trained pianist whose one act of rebellion was to play jazz. Jazz. As surprising as it was, it is what almost got him disowned by his family. Jisung convinced him that if he really wanted to make his parents mad, he should try rock. Turns out, Jeongin’s dad really liked rock music.

Despite him trying to anger his parents, he actually made them proud. Go figure. All he needed to round out the group was a drummer. He found his drummer, an Aussie, on youtube, doing shirtless rock remixes of popular r&b and pop songs. The dude was so undeniably cool he called his manager that night to ask him to find this dude. By the time he woke up the next morning, Chris was on a plane to see him. 

They somehow all clicked, becoming a band of brothers in a matter of months. He couldn’t see his life without these guys now. Jisung was relieved when the door closed behind him in the dressing room. He needed to tune out all of the noise. He hated being alone with his thoughts, they seemed overwhelming at times, but after a set, it seemed to be the one thing that comforted him. He flopped in a chair, directly in front of a vanity, taking in his reflection. 

So many things have changed over the years. He changed his hair a few times, it went from short to long and back again. He recently grew it out, opting to keep the long hair, figuring it stopped his face from looking so youthful and chubby. He'd dyed it several times, but it was currently back to his regular dark brown. His previously unmarred skin was now littered with various tattoos with different meanings and reasons behind them.

Most of them remind him of his past, both the good and bad. Without those moments, he wouldn’t be who he was today. He ran his fingers through his damp fringe, sighing. He had no time to reminisce about ancient history, he had somewhere to be in a few hours and needed to gather his strength to get there. Jisung pushed himself up with a heave-ho and gathered up his things.

It was a quick ride back to the hotel. There were a few fans and reporters posted outside. It was just the ones who had figured out he and his band mates were staying there. His anxiety started to kick in the moment he started to see the flashes of cameras as the car came to a halt in the drop off area. He almost asked his assistant to go get his things, that he’s take care of his personal hygiene when they got to their destination.

But he group mates were already shuffling out of the SUV before he could get his bearings. Jisung felt like he was in a trance, his body moving on auto pilot. The sound had cut out, all he could hear was muffled shouting and the incessant humming noise. His face was blank, gone with any thoughts that he had in his head. There was just this tiny voice in his head telling him, “You got this, Ji.” It sounded an awful lot like his old friend. But it had been eight years and the sound of her voice was something he had long ago forgotten, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to the memory of it.

There were times when he thought he might forget her face, but social media was a constant reminder of it. It wasn’t like he was stalking her or anything . Okay, maybe he was. But it was only just a little bit. He just wanted to know if she was doing well. If she’d gotten married, or made any big life changes. She’d changed a lot too. Her style had changed, as well as her hair a few times. But the thing that stayed the same was her smile. It was the thought of her smile that kept his feet moving as he made his way into the hotel. The sound came back in as the cool air of the hotel lobby hit his face. He breathed a sigh of relief. Thankful he didn’t have another episode like he did a couple weeks ago. He fainted from anxiety and it made front page news, much to his chagrin.

“Alright, everyone go get your things. We will meet back here in forty-five.” His manager spoke after rounding up the band and their staff. It wasn’t much time, but he was glad he’d get at least a few minutes to himself before heading out again into the sea of people waiting for him. The elevator ride up to their floor was filled with eventful conversations between the members and the few staff that took the ride up with them. Jisung would throw a smile or a nod around occasionally, but was otherwise disengaged. His mind was filled with thoughts about his family. How his brother and his wife had welcomed their second child, a little boy with round chubby cheeks just like his uncle. He hoped that his brother would be a better father to the second born child than their father was to him. 

Even though they had since then made up. Jisung knew it was only due to him being a ‘success’, rather than his father truly being sorry for all of the pain he’d caused him. It took a lot of therapy and lyric writing for him to even be remotely open to talking to his father. If it wasn’t for mis mother practically begging him to forgive the man, he would have never even considered it. Turns out that the youth vote can be boosted when your son is a super popular rockstar. Just have said rockstar pose in a few pictures with the mayoral candidate with the same name, and your political career might take off.

He didn’t fault his father for it. He'd worked hard to get his career to that point. There was nothing wrong with booting your votes with a pretty well-known artist. Especially when that artist is your child. His father actually sat him down amidst their reunion and told him that the only reason he treated him like that was because he saw too much of himself in him. That he once had aspirations to be a rock star, that he almost made it. Him and his band had signed a record deal and everything. But things fell through and they ended up having to pay back the company for the debt they had incurred. He just didn’t want that life for his son. He also admitted that he may have gone about things the wrong way, not recognizing the same stubbornness in his son that he once had.

The ding of the elevator brought Jisung out of his thoughts. He separated from his members as he pushed his door open after using the keycard to get in. He was back to his thoughts, now his brain now blotted with thoughts of you. He missed you, dearly. How your lips curled when you smiled. How your hair smelled when you hugged him in the mornings before class. How your sleepy voice sounded. How out of everyone, you gave him the most strength to make it day to day. How a chance encounter was the reason you two became friends in the first place. Even down to how you were his person. 

Even years after seeing you last, you were still his person. He had a feeling you would always be. Countless hit records were written about you and he'd keep writing about you until he couldn't write anymore. His muse. His first true love. His person. The lov- “Aren’t you Han? From Mortal Savages?” His door barely clicked open when he heard the high pitched vocal fry of what he assumed was one of his fans. He sighed. If he hadn’t been caught up in his thoughts maybe he would have seen her and possibly avoided all of this. He quickly closed the door, knowing all too well how some fans could be and he didn’t want to take that chance.

He turned to her with a smile. “Yeah. What can I do for you, beautiful?” He’d learned from Chris that sometimes you had to pacify the fans with a compliment, make them feel special. It made them come back.

Her eyes lit up at the compliment. “I- I was hoping… you might invite me in.” Jisung tried his best to keep his face neutral. “I’m your biggest fan, a-and I wanted to show you just how much I love you.” Stealthily he turned on his camera to record this incident, sometimes you had to be careful with delicate situations like this. He didn’t want his career to end over a ‘he said, she said’ situation. 

He sighed again, “Look, you seem like a nice person, but I’m really tired and I don’t have much time. I have another gig to get t-”

“But your schedule says it’s clear..” She pulled out her phone to provide the evidence. 

“It’s a private event, that's why it isn’t on there.” He nodded, “I really need to get packed up so that I don’t miss my plane.” She took the opportunity to step closer to him.

“I promise I’ll make it worth your while!” She got a little louder, alarming the man even further.

“N-no thank you.” He spoke nervously. He’d had industry friends say that this happened to them all of the time, but this was a first for him. He stepped back, back hitting the door to his room. 

“I’ll be really good for you, Ji.” She pressed her body against his. Calling out the nickname that no one, but you called him. You were the only one allowed to call him that. It was either his last, first, or his full name. It didn’t have the same endearing ring when others said it. He hated how it sounded falling from other people's lips.

“Wh-what did you call me?” He stared at her blankly.

“Ji.” She smiled wide as if she had accomplished something. “I thought it was cute. Everyone else calls you Han or Jisung, so I thought it’d be nice to call you something I came up with on my own.”

The anger was rolling off Jisung in waves, like magma slowly building towards becoming erupted lava. His face stayed calm as he spoke, but every word was pointed. “Don’t ever call me that again. It’s not for you to come up with different names for me. It’s Jisung, not Ji to you. Understand?” She nodded, getting the underlined hint that he was angry. He didn’t even sound like himself.

“Now, like I said… I have somewhere to be and you are holding me up. If you want a picture or an autograph I can give that to you, but I can’t give you anything else.” She took the opportunity to get the picture, but he was sure she was going to write some whack ass caption like, “Don’t meet your idols.” Or some shit like that. He didn’t have the capacity or strength to care at the moment, he had places to be.

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Jisung was often praised for how quickly he could go to sleep. Not many people had that skill, plus the ability to sleep anywhere and not be disturbed by the loud noise surrounding him. But his alleged gift did not come in handy on the flight from Manchester to their private booking two hours and some change away. As a matter of fact, that usual gift seemed like a deterrence. He fell asleep as soon as they got on the plane, but ten minutes later he was wide awake again. He tried his best to get some rest before they touched down, but nothing helped. He counted sheep and took a swig of liquor, he even tried a sleep aid, but here he was, looking out the window as the plane touched down. It had to be his luck, right? Something was off in the universe or something. Because why was his scale tipping towards all this bad will?

Even after arriving and settling into his hotel room, sleep just would not come to him. The hours ticked by. He tried at first to see if he laid in the bed long enough if sleep would still elude him, it did. He tried to gather some inspiration, maybe pen something fantastic about not being able to sleep, the inspiration never came. So as the sun slowly started to creep over the horizon, he decided to take a walk. The beautiful vistas around this hotel were captivating, so hopefully they would provide him with both inspiration and clarity. He stood near the cliff and watched the sunrise, not noticing the woman a few yards away from him, taking in the same views. He was about to leave, hoping that seeing the sun would finally put him to sleep when he noticed something about her. The briny scent of the sea mixed with her scent and just like a care package, the breeze sent it right into his nostrils. 

Every muscle and nerve in his body froze with the familiar scent. But there was just no way. Right? His father asked him to do this favor, saying this was his wedding gift to the son of a family friend. But it never occurred to him that your family were the aforementioned family friends. His body ached to call out to you, run to you, but his mind kept him in the same position. With good reason apparently. You were joined a moment later, a man around your age coming behind you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders before taking up the spot right next to you. Was that your boyfriend? His anxiety started to bubble in the center of his chest, his heart felt shaky. He knew a day like this would come, when he would have to face you once more. Make amends with how he broke your heart. But he never expected it to be on your family trip. He didn’t expect to meet you again in the same manner he met you the first time. Meeting somewhere tropical with your family somewhere nearby. Now he had to add in a boyfriend to the mix.

His head was starting to pound, he needed to sleep. He needed his heart to stop beating so rapidly in his chest. He needed to call this all off and head back to the comfort of his own home, to get away from the madness. “Jisung, what are you doing out here?” His eyes widened, hearing his name being called. He turned around to see his manager, dressed in his workout gear, just having come from a run. In a panic, Jisung quickly pulled the man away from the scene, hoping you hadn’t heard. Just as he ducked back into the building, you looked around in the spot he was just in, to see no one there.

It took him a while to calm down. He could still see you from his hotel room and it wasn’t helping him one bit. Internet stalking you was bad enough, now he was literally stalking you, watching you from his window like some creep. He was anxious, sleep deprived, and now he had to add scared that he’d truly lost you forever. He looked on at you and your boyfriend, talking animatedly from the window. His arm was around your shoulder, he assumed to keep you warm. Even with the blanket still around you. “What am I going to do?” He was stressed. Hair sticking up all over his head from incessantly running his fingers through it. He couldn't leave, he’d made a promise with his dad to do this in his absence. Plus his mom was somewhere around, she’d been texting him all night about how she couldn’t wait to see her precious baby. He wouldn’t be able to stomach a decision that made her sad when she was clearly so excited.

He wanted to say ‘fuck you’, to being a good son. But at the end of the day he just couldn’t. What if you didn’t recognize him? Or worse. What if you ignored his entire existence? He knew you had every right too, he did push you out of his life just because you’d hidden your acceptance to college from him. Or at least that's what he let you think. He didn’t want to be the reason you didn’t follow your biggest dreams. He flopped on his bed, tired of watching the endless flirtation and touching between you and your supposed boyfriend. He laid in the bed, draping his arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight. “Get a grip, Jisung. It’s just a performance. She’s just a girl. Just do what you came here for and peace out. It’s simple.” At least he hoped that's how things would be. He’d perform, then he and his mom would make their way to Seoul to visit some family. Simple. Easy. Right?

Yeah, things were definitely not that easy. Not for him at least. He eventually fell asleep, just to be woken up by a knock at his door. It was his mother, inviting him to be her date to the wedding. Was he a momma’s boy because he couldn’t deny her this simple task? Maybe, but how could he say no to her? That's how he ended up between his mother and your third cousin, Lilliana, both women talking his ears off as he nodded idly. Luckily the wedding was outdoors, so his sunglasses made a lot of sense. He wasn’t the only one shielding their eyes from the sun's rays. The only reprieve he felt was when the wedding march started. For the most part, the wedding party came in one person at a time. Until it came to the best men, the two of you walked in together, arm in arm. The way he looked at you sunk Jisung’s heart lower than the floor. 

You were stunning, he could understand your boyfriend’s feelings. The way the all red pants suit looked on, put everyone else to shame. Even the way your hair was pinned up, or even how simple but gorgeous your makeup looked, all of the above just complimented your beauty perfectly. He couldn’t pay attention to the actual wedding, his mind and eyes focused on you the whole time. Even if you felt his stare, you didn’t acknowledge it. He was thankful for that. He already felt like a creep from watching you this morning. Even as you walked back down the aisle, he watched you until he couldn’t see your figure anymore.

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Nerves. He stopped getting nervous before shows years ago. But here he was, pacing back and forth, chewing on his already bitten away nails. His members looked on at him, worried. It’d been a while since they’d seen him like this and even though each of them tried their best to comfort him in their own way, nothing seemed to work. The time was ticking down for them to go on stage and the dread in the pit of his stomach was growing exponentially. What if she still hates me? What if she lets everyone know how disgusting of a human being I am for treating her that way? What is this…? What if that…? He was so far into his thoughts it took an actual push from his manager to start walking.  

“Babe, I know how much you love this group and their lead singer's voice. So, using my sister's old connections, I asked his dad if he could get them to perform for our wedding reception.” Aaron spoke, holding up his champagne flute towards his husband. “So, this is Mayor Han’s gift to us for our wedding. Please give a warm round of applause to Mortal Savages!” All of the young people in the crowd went wild, most of them rushing to the dance floor right in front of the stage to get a good view. Aaron hurried to his husband's side to watch the band. But all Jisung could do was look out into the crowd, in hopes of finding you. He felt like a teenager all over again. Transported back to his audience of one. No one else mattered in this moment, not even the grooms who he was here to entertain.

He expected to see anger in your eyes, but instead was met with this inexplicable sadness. “Uh- hi.” Jisung spoke nervously. “It’s been a while since we last played a wedding, but uh- I hope..” He could see your boyfriend whispering something in your ear just for you to shake your head no. It only made him wonder what he asked. “I hope this song reaches someone out there. Because almost every song is written for or about someone. Often it's about the love that got away, other times it’s about the love you feel in the moment. So.. I hope this helps to spread the love that this lovely couple is feeling at this very moment.” He grabbed his guitar, the pick nearly slipping out of his sweaty fingers.

As the song started, he kept his eyes locked on your, not straying away from your saddened yet scrutinizing gaze. 

“지킬게 아파도 돼 네가 흘린 상처들은 감싸 안을게 이미 내게 너는 죄 너는 죄…”

You tore your eyes from him, to focus once more on your boyfriend, giving that man a soft smile. One that was once reserved strictly for Jisung. Most if not all of your smiles once upon a time were because of him, they were for him. Maybe because things were so easy back then he didn’t realize he was taking them for granted, taking you and the love you showed him for granted, platonic or not. Almost as if he couldn’t lose them. To know that the reason you were no longer a constant in his life was all his doing? Felt like a ripping stab to the heart.

“뜨거운 네가 필요해, you are my volcano…”

He was thankful that you let the song end before you excused yourself. Jisung dropped everything, practically chucking his guitar into his manager's hands before running after you. He could hear the confused claps at the reception, he knew he’d have to deal with the consequences of his actions, but those were the last thing on his mind right now. He saw the fabric of your red suit rush to the elevator, but he quickly caught it before the doors closed completely. You sighed loudly, wishing you could have vanished before he found you, but your luck was apparently shit.

“Please.. Just.. hear me out.” He huffed, arms still stretched out at his sides holding the elevator door open. You wanted to tell him no, because what was left to say? He was the one who pushed you out, not the other way around. You owed him nothing. But you gave in anyway. Truth be told, you wanted to hear what excuses he’d make for his past behavior. Because a simple apology wasn’t going to work on you, you needed to know why he pushed you away.

He silently stepped on the elevator with you. The building only had a few floors, so he needed to speak quickly. “I didn’t realize until it was too late that this was your brother's wedding. I hope you don’t think I crashed it on purpose, because that just isn’t the case. I just-”

“Get to the point, Jisung. I don’t have all night to stand in this elevator and talk with you.” You spoke coldly, eyes staring into his murky reflection on the mirrored doors. You wouldn’t even spare him an actual look. He could feel himself getting nervous all over again.

“It’s not an excuse, but in my mind, pushing you away was the best thing for you. I wanted to keep you by my side. But I knew if I selfishly asked you to stay, you would. I also knew that talking with you over the phone or facetime wouldn’t be enough. Especially not when I’d grown used to having you near. Once upon a time, one phone call was all it took and you’d be there, but how could you if you were in another country? I couldn’t deal with even the thought of it. Being able to hear your voice, but not being able to actually bask in your presence- the thought of living like that for four years killed me.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes. “But that wasn’t just your decision to make, Ji-” His nickname almost slipped off your tongue, probably a force of habit. “Jisung. We could have figured something out. But you decided our friendship wasn’t worth fighting for. You literally slammed the door in my face. It’s been eight years. Do you think I’m still hung up on how you imploded our friendship on a whim? I’ve moved on. You should too.” Your sentence ended just as the elevator dinged, the old door creaking open. “Congratulations on becoming a success, by the way. I guess me not being around paid off for you.”

Your eyes finally met his, but he didn’t like the look in them. Like you loathed the fact that he was breathing the same air as you. “I can’t.” He spoke, exiting the lift with you. “I can’t move on. I never had any intention to.” He followed after you, even after you dismissed him. You were just trying to get into your room, away from him, away from the noise. But he was persistent. He followed you in. After you didn’t push him out, he continued. 

“Almost every song I’ve written has been about you. For you. I-I hoped that one day you’d see my face on tv or hear my voice on the radio and look me up. I hoped that you’d read my lyrics or my ‘thanks to’ and realize that everything I did was so you could see me. See that I needed to push you away for both of us to grow. I needed the pain to see that my feelings for you were more than whatever platonic bullshit I had reduced them too. I needed that space to understand that what I thought was love with my exes would never compare to the love I have for you. I’ve been in and out of relationships since you walked away from my van and back into the trees and nothing, not even the biggest heartbreak has compared to the feeling of never seeing your face or hearing your voice again.”

You kept your back turned towards him as you listened. You stared out the sliding glass door and glass balcony fence that overlooked the reception area. The party was still going on, everyone was having a good time, despite the lead singer of the band being missing in action. 

“All I’ve wanted this past eight years is for you to understand that I was too dependent on you. I needed to grow up, to man up and I couldn’t do that if you were around. I had to learn to navigate life by myself without you constantly helping me out of every little fuck up. Do you even realize that that's how it was? Everytime I fucked up, you came behind me and cleaned it up to the best of your ability. I flunked a class, you spent your entire summer helping me pass it so I wouldn’t be left behind the next year. I ran away from home and you found me a place to stay so I wouldn’t be homeless. I depended on you so much that I needed to know that I could do it on my own. You needed to go to the school of your dreams so you could do the work you were clearly called to do. I know I went about it the wrong way, I realize that.” 

His voice grew closer, so you closed your eyes, hoping you wouldn’t have to face him. “You broke my heart, Ji.” It hurt him to hear you say it, it hurt even more to hear how brokenhearted you sounded. “I thought that whatever we faced in life, we’d be in it together. Until the wheels fell off. Isn't that what we used to say? Isn't that what we promised?” It was more of a rhetorical question, you were sure you both knew the answer to that question.

“Then all of a sudden I was alone. You’d iced me out. I left the country right after graduation because I couldn’t stand even the thought of running into you, seeing your fucking punchable face. I realized on the plane why it hurt so bad. Why losing you as a friend hurt me worse than losing my childhood best friend to the glimmer of popularity. It was because I loved you. I came to the fucked up realization that somewhere along the way I had fallen madly in love with my best friend. If I thought I was heartbroken before, that made it far worse.” You finally turned to face him.

“Imagine, finally being able to move on. Finally free from the burden of unrequited love, just to hear his voice on the radio.” You chuckled humorously. “To have your friends gush over how hot the lead singer of this band was. Telling you just what his voice did to them in excruciating detail.” You sighed deeply just thinking of all the things your friends said they wanted to do to him or what they wanted him to do to them. 

“To have to suffer silently while they sang his songs or shoved his content down your throat. All while you are nursing the gaping wound he left behind. To keep having to relive the moment he gutted you like a fucking fish all because he what-? Wanted to be less dependent on you?” You tilted your head back as you scoffed. “I had no one, Jisung. You were my only friend. Just like you were dependent on me, it was the same for me. I had to rebuild myself once you were gone. It took years for me to open up to people, I had closed myself off afraid I’d be abandoned by someone else I considered my friend.” He could see that you were fighting back tears. He reached for you only for you to pull back.

“That's for a friend to do. Not for some random stranger that followed me to my room.” That's when the realization hit him. This looked bad. Really bad. He'd followed a girl to her room from a party. Even if you, him, and a few party goers knew the type of relationship you used to have, that was far in the past at this point. You didn't know each other now. For all he knew, you could have had a few drinks. All it took was one out of control rumor and his career would be over. He backed up, letting his hands fall to his side.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low, almost nonexistent. “Please, let me be that for you again. It doesn’t have to be a full blown friendship, even if I want to work my way back to that. Just- just let me be there for you, please?” Jisung cautiously stepped closer with his arms stretched. It was a slow wrap of his arms around your frame, before he pulled you in close, patting your back soothingly. You both melted into each other. He swore nothing else felt more like home than being in your arms. He hugged you tighter and you broke down, sobbing into his fuzzy cardigan.

“I fucking hate you, Ji.” You gently hit his arm as you wrapped your arms around him. He chuckled lightly, a smile spreading on his lips.

“That’s okay, I’ll take the hate. Just as long as that means one day I can get you to love me again.”

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You took a few moments to recollect yourself, deciding to return to your brother's party. You tried to convince Jisung to go ahead without you, since he was being paid to be there, but he refused. He stuck with you the whole elevator ride back down and all the way until you made it into the reception. “Where the heck have you been?” A man approached the two of you, one who you could only assume was his manager. “You just ran off stage without a word. Do you know how that makes you look?” As he laid into him, you slowly backed away, going for your escape. Only for Jisung to reach back and grab your hand.

“I- I know, Hyung. I- this is her. This is my, Y/n.” He lightly tugged you forward, showing the man you clasped hands. “This is her little brother's wedding. I’ll perform a few songs by myself to make up for my absence. You and the rest of the guys can go ahead and head out. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.” The man looked at him skeptically before he nodded in agreement.

“Fine. I’ll see you back in Seoul in a few weeks. You have a great vacation.” His eyes traveled to you as he plastered on a warm smile. “Congratulations on getting your PHD, I know your family must be proud, Dr. Y/l/n. I know someone was.” His eyes darted to Jisung before he bowed and left to gather up the rest of the band.

“How did you even know I got my phd?” You asked, stealthily trying to pull your hand away from the death grip he had it in, but he didn’t let go. 

“I… kind of kept up with you. Mostly on my finsta account. I also might have received news from your brother. He came to confront me at one of my shows and we’ve been in contact since. Please don’t be mad at him, I asked him to keep it from you. I didn’t want you to find a way to cut off my supply. Knowing you were doing well is what kept me going.” You sent a scowl towards your brother, who must have felt a disturbance in the force. He put his hands up to say he had no choice. You’d talk to him about this later.

“I wanted to experience the milestones in your life, even if it was from secondhand stories.” He pulled out his phone, there was a photo album dedicated to you with pictures spanning from the first time you met up until your first day at your new job as a child psychologist in a nearby children's hospital. “Though I couldn’t be there, I still want to say, congratulations. I’m proud of you.” You rolled your eyes.

“So, what you are saying is… you internet stalked me for years and even pulled my younger brother into it, with a promise to sing at his wedding. Tsk tsk. Wait until the internet gets a hold of that.” You joked. The panic in his eyes before the realization was hilarious to you. “I’m joking, Jisung.” You smiled, “Thank you for being interested in my progress through life. Congratulations to you as well, Mr. Grammy nominated artist. That's amazing, Ji. It really is. I guess we really got what we wanted, huh?” You smiled wistfully. 

But the smile slid right off of Jisung's face. He got part of what he wanted. The other part was standing right in front of him, her hand in his. And as close as she was, she was still so far away. In his mind, it was all a matter of if he was going to truly confess everything in his heart, right here, right now. He was frightened that he might overwhelm you if he did.

Though he had let it slip that he loved you earlier in your hotel room, that was nowhere close to the extent of what he felt for you. He wanted to shout it from the rooftop that the woman he loved had accepted him back into her life after he’d gone and fucked everything up.

Jisung had been swept up in a whirlwind, being introduced to all of you and your brother's mutual friends. His mind being put at ease, finding out that Hangyul was in fact not your boyfriend. Even if a blind person could tell he had fallen for your charm, Jisung was glad that was just his feeling and it wasn’t mutual apparently. Not with how far you put your wedding partner in the friendzone.

Giving Jisung a kind of go ahead to wiggle his way out of the friend zone he’d finally gotten back into. He excused himself, figuring it was time to finish out this set he was kind of sort of paid for. He sat on a stool on stage, acoustic guitar in hand, mic in front of him. “Sorry for bailing out on you all earlier. I saw the love of my life running out of the wedding hall and I needed to catch her before I made the second biggest mistake of my life.” 

Your eyes widened from the crowd where you were standing next to your brother and his husband. “The first was letting her go in the first place. I was young and apparently very stupid. I pushed the best thing that had ever happened to me out of my life and I’ve regretted that decision for the last eight years, twenty-six days..” He looked at his watch, “Ten hours, seven minutes, and 13- no 15 seconds.”

The crowd looked between the two of you, fascinated by the little tale the global rockstar was telling on this modest wedding stage. “I won’t be stupid this time. I promise to cherish every second that I’m blessed to have you in my life. I love you, Y/n. I have always loved you and I always will, no matter how much time passes.” You were holding back your tears. Jisung had always had your heart and despite you trying your best to keep your walls up, afraid that he would hurt you again, they all came tumbling down with every word that he spoke. 

“So, to the grooms. I hope that the two of you continue this beautiful love affair and cherish every single second you have together. Love isn’t something we should push down and trample on, it's something that is meant to be held on to, prized, and exalted.” He cleared his voice. “So, this is for the lovers in the crowd…I hope you love last a lifetime. I hope it never fizzles or fades and burns bright for eternity.” 

He strummed the first few chords of the song, the sound immediately bringing up fond memories of you and Jisung arguing over the best version of it, The Cure, 311, or Adele’s. You were always torn between 311 and Adele’s, while he was adamant that the original was far superior. It’s as if the rest of the world faded into the distance.

Call it tunnel vision, but all you could see was him and all he could see was you. You swayed gently, the gentle sea breeze dancing across your skin just like the melody of his voice. You hummed in tune with him, heart swelling as you realized, this song was for you. He was singing it, for you and only you.

“However far away I will always love you However long I stay I will always love you Whatever words I say I will always love you I will always love you…”

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You don’t remember the exact sequence of events but something clicked after Jisung’s solo performance. Maybe it was the look he gave you that made you feel like you were the center of his universe. Maybe it was the friendly banter you shared while having a few drinks. Maybe it was the late night stroll you took down to the beach or the way he held you to keep you warm. Or maybe it was the kiss you shared under the moonlight, the first of many for the night that got you going. But whatever it was that got you here, you were thankful for whatever combination it was that had you pressed against the door of your hotel room with Jisung’s lips and body pressed against yours. The feeling of his lips on yours felt electric. 

In your youth, you often wondered how it would feel to have that plum lower lips of his between yours. What it might feel like to bite it, just wanting to see his reaction. His reaction was nothing short of mind boggling. The groan that passed his lips, caused you to groan in return. Jisung’s fingers trailed over your body, slowly exploring every inch he could. Every inch that his teenage body begged to explore even back then. Every inch that he dreamed about, steamy scenes that played behind his eyelids every night. He had to be closer to you, the absence of you in his life had left a gaping void that he needed to fill. Right here. Right now. In the very moment. His shirt was first. Tossed somewhere to the side, leaving the tattoos and muscles that he’d gained over the last eight years. Your eyes widened, distracted by the hard musculature he had developed.

Your fingers traveled from his shoulders down over his pecs, making him shiver and whimper. The sounds give you ideas that your heart didn’t want you to act on, but your mind gave you the full go ahead on. “When was the last time..” You asked, hand in the center of his chest as you guided him backwards. He looked back, afraid he would fall, but you grabbed his chin making sure he kept his eyes solely on you. You didn’t stop until the back of his legs hit the mattress, then all it took was a simple push. Jisung was at your will. His round eyes shining up at you with pure anticipation in them.

“When was the last time you had sex, Ji?” You took off your red blazer fist, tossing it on a nearby chair. Next came your vest, you slowly and methodically took your time with each button, simply because you could, but also because the only thing under it was your bra. His eyes darted around, he swallowed hard. His blood was rushing straight to bulge in his pants.

“I-I don’t know. I-it’s been a while..” He kept his statement vague, too overwhelmed by everything that was happening to pinpoint an exact date. “A year- I think. Maybe more.” You smirked, shrugging the vest off your shoulders and tossing it to be with your blazer. You reached down and grabbed his hands, placing them on the waistband of your trousers.

“Take them off.” Oh the look of panic in his eyes set your heart aflame. He was absolutely the cutest. And even though you weren’t normally one to take full control in situations like this, you were oh so looking forward to taking advantage of your dear friend's vulnerability. He was going to be your tonight. The man's trembling fingers reached for the button, almost too shaky to undo them. You were patient, running your fingers through his silky hair. It took him a few minutes, the cool cross-breeze from the open balcony window offering a little air to cool off the heat on your skin. “Panties too.” God, the way the words sounded as they entered his ears did more for him than anything ever did. He’d been waiting to hear those words forever at this point. 

His brain nearly malfunctioned when he moved a little closer to slip off your panties, your scent filling his waiting nostrils. He could explode. Would you think bad of him if he came right now? He’d promise to make it up to you. He must have been led by another power, because he would swear that he had no body autonomy at that moment. His brain wasn’t even at a functioning level that would be considered functional.

You were bare before him, lust darkening your beautiful eyes. He whimpered. “Please..” He didn’t know what he was pleading for, but that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy hearing it any less. He was pushed back on the bed, stripped of his pants and underwear. Things were going so fast in real life, but his brain had slowed everything else down.

He barely noticed that you had straddled him and started teasing your slit with his tip. He wasn’t even aware of the noises that were loudly slipping from his lips. Jisung was in a haze, one that was carefully crafted by you, the goddess that sat above him.

The whimper that fell from his lips when you slipped him inside of you was the most orgasmic sound to have ever filled your ears. His still shaking fingers flew to your hips, needing something to ground him at this moment. His blunt nails dug into your sides as you teased his tip, letting him dip only a part of it into your entrance. “God.. please…. Please…” He begged, voice strained and whiny. 

He was definitely going to explode like this. He hadn’t even fully entered you and he was already losing his mind. He bit down on his bottom lip, eyes slipping closed as he tried to control himself. But his hips had other plans, he bucked up, pressing himself further into you and that was it, he came on the spot. The tight warmth was too much for him to handle at that moment. You pushed your hips down on him as he came, feeling the stream of cum coat your walls.

When his breathing calmed and his grip on your hips loosened, you pulled what little of him was inside of you out. Tsk’ing at the man underneath you. “Is my baby fucked out already?” You stroked his drenched cock, adding even more wetness by spitting on it. “You couldn’t even slip it in without coming, huh? What happened to that sex god of a rockstar everyone that you were?” He whimpered again, edging on overstimulation as you purposely targeted the head of his cock.

His fists were balled in the sheets, bottom lip chapped red from trying to bite into it. “S-stop, please..” You pouted at him before shaking your head. He deserved to torture just a little for all of the years the two of you missed out on doing this. You could have been his ages ago. His first girl and him as your first boy. But here you were eight years later, with a nice amount of experience under your wings. You were going to take full advantage of it. Jisung’s body convulsed as he came again. His body became rigid as he spurted his cum all over your lower stomach and hands. You jumped, surprised by the sheer amount of it.

You stuck your cum slick fingers in his open mouth, jolting his eyes open. His initial surprise melted as he enjoyed the taste of him on your skin. “Now, you are going to eat me out until I come. Got it?” You leaned down, grabbing his chin to make him look at you in the eyes. You opened his mouth and spit on his tongue, closing it back for him to accept it. You moved, lying down next to him. He wasted no time, getting between your legs expediently.

Jisung could die right now, happily. You were here with him, in the bed, his cum on your body and mingling with your own and pooling at your entrance. A feast, just for him. Everything and more than he could have ever asked for. He dove in, mind fogged with thoughts of you. Your taste. Your smell. That lustful yet dominant look in your eyes as you laced your fingers into his long, permed hair.

And the taste of you? It deserved five Michelin stars, two more than regular just because he said so. You tugged on his hair as he wrapped his plum little mouth around your clit. You used his hair as your anchor to move his head around as you saw fit. A hair pull to signal him to go faster, a pull to the left or right for him to move his tongue elsewhere. He was like your own little tongue flicking toy with a customizable setting. He lapped, sucked, and licked to both you and his content. His moans and whimpers almost outnumber yours.

He was in heaven between your legs, and would gladly mark his tombstone in this very place. His skilled tongue sent you barreling over the edge, your grip on his hair tightening to an almost painful level, but he didn’t complain. He was just happy that he was the one who was able to make you unfold like this.

Your other hand grabbed him by the neck, pulling him up to you for a passionate kiss. You could eat him alive if he let you. The hand in his hair slipped between the two of you. He had already started rutting his hips against you, desperate to feel you again. It was easy to grab him and slip him into you once again, but this time for real. 

Your breath hitched as his eyes rolled back. Your fingers still around his neck squeezed lightly as you continued to unmake and reassemble him with your kisses. He felt like he could feel every single atom that made him, him. His hips were slow to move at first, but once he built his rhythm, that was that. The sound coming from between the two of you was filthy. Spit and cum and your spent were mixing to make the glide in and out of your tight walls even easier for him.

Your toes were curled, knees digging into his sides as you squeezed your legs around him. “Fill me up, Ji. Fuck me full of your love.” Your name slipped off his lips like a prayer at your words. He’d give you the moon and the stars if you kept talking to him like that. “Isn’t that what you've always wanted? To make me yours?” He nodded frantically. You paused your words, fluttering around him at a more consistent pace. You were close, both of you knew it. Both of you could feel it.

“Yo-you are mine.” He kissed at your jaw, “Please, co-come with me. I- I need you-” He couldn’t get his words out to finish his thoughts. He had already murmured the magic phrase. “You are mine.” You came around him, pulling your lips only a breath away, taking in the air that escaped his mouth into your own lungs like it was the only oxygen you needed. His followed almost immediately, your tight cunt draining him of any energy of essence he had left. Your walls continued to flutter around him, even after every drop of him had been emptied into you.

Your hands fell to your sides, legs unlocking from around him. You had nothing left to give, but love to the man you’d loved most of your life. He rolled off of you, body slick with perspiration and the mixed essence that both of you expelled. He exhaled deeply, hand searching for yours, finding it nearby and over the covers. He kissed the back of it, eyes boring into yours. Unspoken words being said with just a look. The both of you admitting what you both knew as this escapade started. You were in love.

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“Encore! Encore! Encore!” The crowd chanted loudly. The lights in the stadium had just dimmed, signaling that the last song had been played. But they still begged for more. The band was backstage, goofy smiles on all of their faces. Adrenaline is still pulsing through their bodies.

“One more, guys?” Jisung asked and they all quickly agreed. One more song to end the night. They headed back on stage to an onslaught of rabid cheers. They had one more song up their sleeves. A song that eighteen year old Jisung had pinned himself, one that embodied the way he felt when he saw the heartbreak in your eyes when he pushed you away. He wanted to do nothing more than to wipe your tears, and hold your hand.

To tell you that everything would be okay. That he loved you, forever and always. Because to him, there was no him without you. He stood amongst his band on stage, belting the lyrics to the song. Eyes focused on the only person he wanted to see in a room full of people, the woman he loved. The person almost all of his songs were about. You, with that big proud smile plastered on your face.

“'Cause all I want is you, not your tears 눈물이 마를 때까지 I wanna make you the happiest one, no fear So baby, hold my hand now…”

FIN

© ✐Channieskies 『MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost here or on other sites. Please leave a like , comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this story.♥』

SONG CREDITS: ✻BIG BANG - LOSER ✻ONE OK ROCK - WHEREVER YOU ARE ✻HAN - VOLCANO ✻THE CURE: LOVESONG ✻HAN - HOLD MY HAND

[starsintheendlessnight]

I'll leave more context here it's long btw so yk

I want to clarify quickly that this is obviously something invented since we know almost nothing about Ctimene in Epic and it is just an idea of ​​mine and aha yk

Ctimene was waiting for Eurylochus for 20 years just like Penelope, I imagine her during these 20 years having an art block due to the lack of inspiration and her muse. Something simple to start with

After the arrival of Odysseus he stayed with his wife in his room for a few days since he wanted to spend time with her and his son. Ctimene wanted to greet Odysseus but he refused since he was not ready to talk to her since he would have to give her the news of Eurylochus' death and he was not prepared for that. Ctimene already feel that something bad had happened but decided to keep hope but found out from Telemachus that her husband died. She was devastated by the news and even more so by the way she found out. Odysseus spoke to Ctimene when she approached him asking for an explanation since he forgot bc he was spending time with Penelope and Telemachus. Odysseus spoke to her privately and explained everything in a totally partial way and apologized for the decisions he had made. Ctimene understood the reason for her brother's decisions but she did not forgive him for sacrificing her husband and for leaving her so aside in a difficult moment.

With Penelope, she was always very close to Ctimene and even more so when their husbands left for war, they were both very VERY close and shared the same pain but after Odysseus arrived it took Penelope days to approach Ctimene and offer her condolences for the death of Eurylochus, she knew that Ctimene was going through a period of mourning but she still couldn't get close to him bc she didn't know how to do it and when she did it was too late, Ctimene felt betrayed by someone who supposedly cared about her but it turned out not to be like that.

Both Penelope and Odysseus left Ctimene aside, they didn't do it with bad intentions of course they just didn't know how to approach her but it still hurt. Her sister-in-law with whom she shared years of pain didn't even say anything to her when she knew she was going through a period of mourning and her brother did the same, it hurt bc they acted as if she wasn't having a bad time. I'm not saying that Penelope and Odysseus should have taken care of her like she was a little baby but the least they said to her was "I'm sorry for your loss, I hope everything gets better" and that was it, they continued with their lives as if nothing had happened while she struggled with the grief of her husband's death, Ctimene just wanted a shoulder to cry on and the two closest people she had left her aside. As if her pain didn't matter.

Bc of this Ctimene lived resentfully for a long time, they left her aside dealing with her grief alone, the only person who came to see her from time to time was Telemachus and when he had his free time. She was upset to the point of even blaming Odysseus for many things that happened before her husband's death (she never blamed him directly like saying it to his face, it was more like thoughts she had when she was really upset).

With this I don't want to make Penelope or Odysseus look like bad people, they didn't know how to approach Ctimene and even though they didn't want to hurt her, they ended up doing it and she won't forgive them for acting like she wasn't going through a difficult time. Again, Ctimene isn't a child but those closest to her didn't even ask her how she felt and it hurts how the people closest to you leave you aside like that and it hurt even more on Penelope's part, so many years together for her to only receive an "I'm sorry about what happened."

Ctimene will never forgive Odysseus for sacrificing her husband and for leaving her aside, she understands what he had to go through, she knows that her brother didn't have a good time those 20 years and that it wasn't a piñata party but that doesn't takes away her pain and no matter how much she understands it, she won't forgive him for it.

She will not forgive Penelope for leaving her aside after Odysseus' arrival, she understands that he is her husband and that she wants to spend time with him but she acted as if their friendship had never existed even though she did not want to show thag, that is how Ctimene experienced it, it felt like a betrayal by someone so close and with whom she shared very personal moments.

With this I do not mean that "live resentful forever and never forgive anyone"

It depends on each one of us if we decide to forgive someone for the harm they caused us, whether it was done with bad intentions or without knowing that they were causing any harm. Ctimene will never forgive them both and that is okay, it is her decision. What is not okay is to live resentful.

Living with resentment only stagnates us more in that pain that torments us, it is okay not to forgive but it depends on us how we deal with the pain. Ctimene at first lived with resentment. She was upset and sad about her husband's death and how others treated her pain as if it were something unimportant, everyone tried to move on except her.

But, within that pain there was something else

I have already spoken to you about the pain of memories, how it hurts to remember that important person, those moments that we cannot repeat and that part of our identity that was taken from us. But, within that pain there is something beautiful which is appreciation, we appreciate those moments, those people who were with us and the impact they had on our lives and identity.

Ctimene had realized that she could not continue living resentfully and she realized that maybe, just maybe she could create something beautiful with her art. She remembered Eurylochus with pain but began to remember him more with appreciation, being inspired again and trying to keep his memory with her, she realized that she was not alone, there were more than 500 families who were also devastated, families who also waited for 20 years for the arrival of a loved one who unfortunately will never return. She used her art to tell the story of those men who did not manage to return home and with the help of Odysseus! Yes, she will never forgive him it is true but they both learned to live with it, Ctimene created pieces of art so that everyone would remember her husband and his comrades. Which honestly seems like a very nice idea to me.

I hope you understand what I mean and I am sorry this is too long 😭🙏

[ybklix]

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

[pirateprincessblog]

in vino veritas

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: hongjoong loves art, wine, and pretty girls. how convenient that on the opening night of his art gallery, as he sips his red wine, his eyes land on you. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!hongjoong x fem!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hongjoong, bratty!reader, artist!hongjoong 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, oral (m receiving), toys, gagging, hint of ddlg

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: divorced parent child, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i always write the reader as inexperienced or innocent, this time i'm trying a different approach hehe hopefully it works!

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔,

𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔. 𝒏𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒓.

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈.

it is a challenge to find an outfit appropriate for the evening. you do not wish to go, not since your mother has made it clear she is going only for mr kim. your father, as his best friend since childhood, would be there, and your mother couldn't pass the opportunity to continue her game of jealousy since their separation.

"bold of you to assume that mr kim will even lay his eyes on you." you comment, passing by her room and glancing at her outfit choice. a red dress shorter than her knees with a low neckline. a classic. funnily enough, she used the very same dress to separate your father's then girlfriend from him and took him for herself. she is your mother, but you don't close your eyes at her mistakes. "besides, you're not twenty anymore. that dress doesn't look flattering at all. it's not age appropriate."

"god, just like your father. insults, insults-"

"oh, so when i kiss your ass i am like you, but when i disagree with you, i am like my father? how lovely."

"go to your room and get dressed."

"why do i have to go? you're the one who's trying to get dicked down toni-"

"go to your room!"

defeated, you groan and slam your door shut, then throw yourself on the bed. even with your head buried under your pillows, you still hear her obnoxious voice.

"and don't talk back to me! you've become very rude, and i will not have you embarrass me in front of our friends there! especially not in front of hongjoong."

you don't remember mr kim. you only know that he had a wife, that she also cheated, much like your mother, and since then he only travels and creates art wherever he goes. ever since you got the invitation, you've been trying to find out how he looks now. but all he posts on his social media is the destinations he's visiting, food and sneak peeks of his art. not even a glimpse of him in any picture. come to think of it, your mother's standards are pretty high. your father had your school friends coming over to your house just for him, you can only imagine what mr kim looks like.

deciding on a simple short sweater dress and knee high boots, you put your coat on and head into the autumn evening. your mother trails behind, having difficulties with walking in such high heels. you don't wait, still angry about her plan involving your poor father and an innocent man.

it is only seven in the evening, and something tells you that you'll be here for a very long time. at least midnight. on the bright side, you'll finally see your father. and meet the mystery man behind all the artwork you've been admiring. he doesn't post much of it, but what you've seen, it's pretty damn amazing.

"dad!" you spot him as soon as you enter the crowded space, your father with his recognizable thomas shelby outfit and a glass of whiskey in his hand. you hug him, tight as always, and subconsciously smell him. tobacco, whiskey, and vanilla. home.

"hey, kid." he returns the hug, a little less tight than yours as to not hurt you. "oh you smell great! that the new perfume i got you?"

"oh, i absolutely love it. i bathe in it every day."

"i'm so glad you like it." he gently ruffles your hair, enough to show affection but to not mess it up completely. "now, where's ursula?"

"very mature, calling your ex wife a cartoon villain. what, i put on a few pounds, so what?"

"it's not about the pounds, and you know it."

you turn your head away from your mother, hiding the laugh that is threatening to escape. but she catches the way your father winks your way, and claps her hands, causing a few heads to turn.

"a father and daughter teaming up on her mother. lovely. if you love him more than me, why don't you go live with him?"

you finally look at her, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "you threatened to hurt yourself if you saw me exit the house with a suitcase. you guilt tripped me, called yourself an awful mother and whatnot. what are you on about?"

defeated, she tries to push the glass of whiskey out of your father's hand, and when failing to do so, she groans and stomps down the gallery hall. and yet she calls you two mature sarcastically.

"i truly hope she finds someone crazy enough to handle her, just so you can finally move out and have a life of your own. is she giving you a hard time?"

"i can handle her. usual guilt tripping and nagging, nothing new. how was your trip?"

your father happily tells you all about his recent trip to spain and france, which was mr kim hongjoong's gift to him for birthday. he went on and on about all the food he tried, all the buildings and art he saw, and how fun and informed about everything mr kim was.

"he knew so much that i was ashamed to be walking with him sometimes. i didn't know the difference between baroque and rococo. hell, i didn't know what rococo even was. i'm definitely taking you to see la sagrada familia on my next week off."

"sounds great, dad."

"listen, i'm gonna go find the restroom, too much whiskey," he whispers, "you feel free to walk around and watch. if you see something you like, i'll ask hongjoong for the price and i'll get it for you."

you look at him with a scoff, but when you see that he is dead serious, you raise your eyebrows. "what? you'd buy an art piece worth thousands of pounds?"

"family discount," he winks at you once again, then disappears into the crowd.

"a drink, madam?" someone says next to you.

your eyes land on the tray with glasses of red and sparkling wine, the person holding it dressed in a simple white dress shirt and black slacks, hair slicked back and white gloves on his hands.

"no thanks, i don't drink."

he nods understandingly, then continues his journey towards the arriving guests. you were never one to buy art. well, you weren't exactly one to be really into it. you see a picture, a sculpture or something similar, you think it's neat. do you go out of your way to find out the artist, or search for more? not quite. but walking down the waxed floor under the rich chandeliers and looking at the massive paintings, you might get into it. finally, something that is not minimalism or some picasso-wannabe shit. stunning golden frames, detailed paintings, and harmony of colours on canvas. all of it put together so perfectly, as if it was brought back from the times of renaissance and not painted in an atelier just outside of town earlier this year.

"drink?"

"i said no already, thanks." you reply, not bothering to look at the person.

"just a sip? to loosen up. you look rather stiff."

you turn your head towards the voice, confused as to why the waiter is persistent. but next to you stands a well dressed man, two glasses of red wine in his hands. he wears black slacks, a tight black turtleneck, and a long black coat. his eyes are pools of honey under the yellow chandeliers, and his hair shiny streaks of gold. he looks breath taking, and you almost thank your mother for dragging you here.

he holds the wine glass for you to take, and you do so. he raises his own towards you, then takes a sip of it, not once breaking eye contact with you. you bring yours to your lips, and the alcohol barely touches them before you move it away. you were never a fan of alcoholic drinks. they tasted awful, and brought out the worst in you. you don't want to embarrass your father tonight. or yourself in front of this gorgeous looking man.

"you've spent quite some time looking at this. admiring the work or surprised at the nudity?"

you scoff, looking at the painting again. gradually going down the hall, the art becomes less art and more erotica. how disappointing. "not admiring, that's for sure."

"oh? how so?" he asks, intrigued.

"well, for starters, very unrealistic. such big breasts and such a tiny waist? has that hongjoong ever seen a woman in his life?"

he laughs along with you, taking another sip of his wine. "i heard he paints with live models, so i'm guessing that this woman really exists somewhere."

"alright, i'll let you have that one. what about this? very inaccurate." you walk over to the next painting, pointing out all the things you were dissatisfied with.

"even an art critic isn't this harsh. it's just art, at the end of the day. an artist's way of escaping and creating his own world to get lost in. nothing wrong with that, right? writers and readers have books, gamers have games, chefs have cooking and baking, and artists have art."

"well, if the artist is an old pervert and all his inspiration comes from naked women, then sure. nothing wrong with that."

after a few moments of silence, you look over at him. he stares at the painting, puzzled. you clear your throat, sensing the awkward air enveloping you both. "i would love to continue this conversation, but if i stay i will only become meaner and accidentally insult you, and i certainly wouldn't want that. i'm passionate when it comes to me being right and proving others wrong."

you give him the glass of wine back with a sour grin, and he returns a scoff of disbelief. "charming."

"wasn't trying to be."

and with that, you leave him standing with two glasses of wine again, just like he approached you. you visit the restroom too, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. all the women are gorgeous tonight, wearing classy dresses and heels, and suddenly you feel underdressed.

"oh my god, your boots are so cool!" as if she heard your overthinking, the girl behind you exclaims. "where did you get them?"

"uh, i think it was a sale at zara. very uncomfortable though, i don't recommend." you reply with a laugh.

"that's okay, they look so pretty it's worth it. anyways, love your makeup." then, she exits the restroom.

you look at your boots, plain black with a chunky heel and over the knees. nothing special about them. still, you appreciate the compliment.

it doesn't take long for you to find your father again, this time in front of a sculpture of, again, a half naked woman. how odd.

"there you are! found anything?"

"no," you reply dryly, and refrain yourself from nasty comments because of his friends.

"well, that's a shame. hongjoong, this is my daughter i've been telling you about."

your heart drops when you hear his name, and then drops a little lower when your eyes lock with the familiar brown ones you just abandoned further down the hall.

"oh, i've had the pleasure," he responds, not looking surprised like you. "an informed young woman, for sure."

so much for embarrassing yourself. if he is offended, he doesn't show it. he only extends his hand as a formal greeting, and when you offer him yours to shake, he turns it over and kisses the top of it. you are baffled, unable to do or say anything. you look over at your father, who doesn't blink an eye to the unusual situation you've found yourself in. mr kim releases your hand, but not before holding eye contact with you just a few seconds longer.

"ah, right, hongjoong is a gentleman. also, if you didn't already notice, he loves women. not like that, of course. they're just-"

"they are my biggest muse. this world's biggest and prettiest treasure."

"charming," you repeat his word from earlier.

he smirks, teasingly. you want to slap the smirk off his face. he adjusts the sleeves of his turtleneck, rolling them up to his elbows and showing off his forearms. it is only then that you notice he isn't wearing the coat anymore, and you have the freedom of shamelessly staring at his body. his forearms are big, painted with bulging veins. the turtleneck hugs his waist and chest perfectly, to the point of slightly showing the outline of his abs. he isn't bulky, but built like a greek statue. he holds himself so elegantly, not bothered what anyone has to say about his work. it's a shame, because you still have a lot to say, regardless of how hot and bothered you are for him at the moment.

"ah, let me just clarify something. in case someone thinks that i'm just an old pervert..." he discreetly glances at you, making your jaw drop slightly, "...all these women have come to me and asked to be painted or sculpted. i have never once asked a woman to undress for me, nor did i sexualize her when she did so herself. i see art, not porn material."

your father seems offended that someone could have made such an assumption. little did he know that the culprit was the young woman right next to him, hiding behind his glass of wine.

"say, hongjoong, how does that work? do i have to send you an e-mail? or just show up at your door?"

if you thought that the situation couldn't get more awkward, your mother decided to prove you wrong.

"mom!" you scold, pink spreading on your cheeks as you look at the people surrounding you.

"what? why wouldn't i want to be painted by such a handsome-"

"unfortunately, at the moment i do not take any commissions. the gallery is my priority."

and just like that, mr kim shuts her down. he spares her no glance, in respect towards your father, or simply because he is disgusted by such an idea and behaviour. he is not stupid, that you notice. he seems to know the difference when someone genuinely wants to be painted, and when someone tries to take advantage of the situation and expects something from him.

as the night goes, you notice that kim hongjoong isn't old like you called him. he is your father's age, sure, but he aged like fine wine. it takes a lot of staring and concentration to notice a few gray strands of hair cleverly hidden among the golden brown ones. you notice that he doesn't talk much. he lets the people around him talk, and only engages when they have a question about a work of his.

you also notice his hands. his fingers, specifically. you can't help but imagine his fingers dipped in clay, shaping it the way his mind intended, his focused gaze and messy hair. you wish to see him at work, at least once in your life. just to satisfy your imagination. because to make a move with a man of that age is just absurd, and disrespectful towards your father. and himself. he just said that he doesn't do it for sexual purposes, and you were almost offering him the same thing as your mother.

awful.

you glance at him one more time, and when you find him already staring at you with an intense gaze, you take it as your cue to leave. a look of hatred, curiosity or lust, you didn't know. you only knew that you felt nervous under his stare, sweat emerging on your skin and stomach turning from fear that he read your mind and caught you thinking about him inappropriately.

"it's a bit late, i'll excuse myself."

"oh, already?" your father asks, planting a kiss on your temple. "i suppose it is quite late. do you need me to walk you back home?"

"no, that's fine. you guys have fun though. oh, mr kim."

mr kim looks at you, surprised that you're addressing him after all night of avoiding his gaze. "yes?"

"wonderful works, truly. thank you for the invite." it's the least you can do after shamelessly shitting on his work in front of him.

"why, thank you. i appreciate it, especially coming from my best friend's daughter. let me walk you to the door."

and you don't get a say in it. your father practically pushes you into his best friend, who skillfully grabs your waist and restores your balance. your breathing seems to stop the few seconds he holds you, grip secure and manly on your body. when he releases you, it feels empty. you wish to be held again, manhandled, thrown around, anything by him.

"listen, i'm sorry for what i said." you say, walking towards the door and keeping up with him.

"mhm," he hums, as if it's not a big deal.

"no, really, i just..."

"it's fine." he says, holding your coat in the air for you.

"i sometimes speak before i think," you put one arm in the sleeve, "and i end up hurting someone or embarrassing myself."

"it's really fine." he says, tone calm and low. he helps your other arm in the sleeve, then, as if he knew your newfound weak spot, he places his hands on your waist and turns you towards him. only now, you are so determined to apologize to him that you don't even notice what he is doing.

"in this case, i did both. mr kim, please, accept my apology." he adjusts the collar of the coat, then buttons it up.

"i told you, it's fine." he is persistent.

you are a babbling mess, trying to correct the image of yourself he has created in his head, which couldn't possibly be good. after all, mr kim hongjoong is way too hot to have a bad opinion about you. you continue speaking, and he continues adjusting your clothes. it is not until he firmly grabs your jaw in his big warm hand that you shut your mouth. you look at him, almost startled, and gulp.

"i appreciate honest opinion. you are the only one who didn't kiss my ass tonight, and i appreciate it more than all the compliments i've gotten. so trust me when i say that it is fine. don't ever apologize for your opinions, you're not that kind of girl."

"what kind of girl do you think i am?"

he smirks, then rubs your cheek with his thumb as he brings your face closer to his. "not a good one, that's for sure."

the words shoot arrows to your core, and you suddenly feel hotter than the hottest summer day. you exhale shakily, not knowing what to do with yourself. he looks satisfied with the reaction you gave him, and decides to finally stop teasing.

"watch the road when crossing." he sends you a playful wink, then opens the door for you.

"thank you," you manage to say, and only nod his way before making your way down the street into the chilly autumn night.

the more time you spend with your father, the more you keep hearing about the artist who won't leave your mind anyway. from his stories, mr kim has been spoiling him rotten. no wonder he isn't home anymore. sitting on your father's porch on his swinging chair and taking in the last rays of sunshine before the harsh winter, you can't help but ask about the mystery man.

"how come he's your childhood best friend but i've only met him that evening?"

"well, you were young. you didn't pay any attention to things that aren't crushes, school and gossip."

"wow."

"it's true. you were just a kid, then a teen. and hongjoong wasn't around much during the day. then, he met ramona and moved with her to a different town. and then, while he was trying to save money and start a family, she was jumping on someone else on the bed that he bought with the last savings. they separated, and hongjoong started travelling just so he could be away from the town. he said everything reminds him of the night he found them. and i accompany him, which is really hard for me as you can see."

"oh, you're living a very hard life at the moment, dad. jokes aside, that sucks for him. do i know her?"

your father scrunches his eyebrows, as if he doesn't want to remember the woman. "she's still around. she was at the gallery, that whore."

it surprises you to hear him say such harsh words. he is usually semi-polite with his speech. mr kim must've really gone through something when even your father reacts like this.

"really? why would she come? did she have the invitation?"

"no, of course not. this isn't a big town, words spread faster than anything. she came with her boytoy to make fun of him, but got shat on when she saw how successful he has gotten. she just looked at me, tried to push the statue like a fucking idiot, then left angrily. i don't know what goes on in that woman's mind."

you scoff, then feel relieved that there was a bigger fool than you there. "how did he become an artist?"

"you can ask him that yourself. he doesn't bite, you know."

you take a sip of the peach tea, then set it aside quickly. still scorching. "why would you say that? i'm not scared of him or anything."

"you were running away from him yesterday. i didn't want to ask because i didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but it was a little disrespectful towards him. he was hurt."

"did he tell you that?" you raise an eyebrow.

"no...?"

"he'll live." you simply say, then grab your phone.

you type his name in the social app again, hoping to see a new post. and there it is, a brand new post, just twenty seconds ago. simple pictures from that night, the group posing in front of the museum, then in front of various photos. then, random shots of food, drinks, and finally, you.

you, staring at the photo that you loved the most in the hall, taken from the profile. it looks like something that jumped out of pinterest, and not something that he secretly snapped before approaching you. the photo is so good that you might even post it yourself.

art admiring art, the caption says. you're surely reading too much into it. he doesn't mean it about you. there's multiple people in the photos, for god's sake. but no, your delusional self loves to make an appearance, and thus the filthy thoughts of kim hongjoong resurface again. you've been trying to push it down, especially in front of your father, but one night of insomnia, a fresh image of kim hongjoong in a tight turtle neck grabbing your face, and a hand down your sleepwear, you've fallen into the void.

now, you can't escape it. you fantasize about him, day and night, stalk his accounts, even take the longer route to work just to pass by the museum in hopes of catching a glance of him. but all you've gotten is sore feet and more sexual frustration. nothing helps anymore, not a single toy that you have once neatly packed under the bed and were collecting dust up until recently. so when your father asks you to drop some things over at the atelier, you are happy to do it.

when you hear the word atelier, you expect a cozy little room in an old building with wooden furniture and with the smell of paint. but you forget that kim hongjoong is filthy rich. the address your father has given you takes you to a whole wooden cabin just outside of town, surrounded by a light forest. you gulp, realizing what situation you are in.

you are about to be alone with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life. you are about to walk into his personal space. and you have to keep your thoughts collected, just in case he is a good people reader. and you somehow feel like he is. you are wet just standing outside, holding the bag of items your father has sent him and shamelessly thinking about all possible ways he would fu-

"oh, hi. i thought i saw someone standing there. please, do come in." mr kim calls from the door, wiping his hands with a cloth. you see stains of paint all over them, and paired with his bulging veins, you realize that you aren't the strongest soldier today and that you have to run home to a certain device as soon as possible.

"good evening, sir. i actually just came to drop this off, per my father's request." you hold out the bag for him to take.

he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, still standing at the door. "you can approach, the cabin doesn't bite."

you exhale, trying to calm your heart beat. it feels like it's going to jump out and plunge straight into his face. you finally make your way towards him, trying to avoid his gaze. you don't know if he does it on purpose, but it is so intense that it feels like even your hair is sweating. he is looking you up and down as you approach, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. he takes the bag from your hand, seeing that you don't plan on speaking yet.

"and i don't bite either." he smirks, then goes back inside the cabin.

"i wish you did," you mumble, then follow after him.

the place smells like paint, just how you imagined. and it is much cozier than it looks outside. you finally get a good look at him, now that his attention is on the contents of the bag. he wears a halfway unbuttoned white dress shirt, almost see through, black slacks, and has messy hair. as if he read your thoughts, he runs his fingers through it, taming the golden strands and showing off his finely aged face.

"a drink?" he asks, hand reaching for the wine bottle that sits on the table among the brushes. "ah, right. i forgot."

he pours himself a glass instead. you bite the inside of your cheek. you hate it, you really do. but for him? no, you're not like that. not with your father's friend, god no.

"this one is actually very sweet. it doesn't have that much alcohol in it. want a sip?"

he holds his own glass for you to try. under the warm yellow lights, you see the outline of his lips on the edge of the glass. you feel ashamed that you do take the glass, and press the lips on the same outline. it takes every ounce in you not to jump into his arms and make out with him like there's no tomorrow. but you manage, only taking a sip of the dark liquid before returning the glass to him. you keep the liquid inside your mouth, afraid to let it pour down your throat. you are not ready for the stinging and bitter aftertaste. but the longer you hold it, the more you look like a squirrel with puffy cheeks and your eyes tear up.

mr kim notices, and chuckles. not mockingly, but maybe a bit fondly. he approaches you, taking your jaw into his hand again. you notice the dried paint on his fingers, and his rolled up sleeves again. his eyes look into yours, and if he wasn't holding your head up so you can look at him, you would surely turn around and leave. it is too much, yet you don't have many options at the moment. to look away, or to maintain the eye contact. he seems to be into it, and so you give it to him. you are starting to be into it too.

his thumb rubs your cheek, much like that night. his eyes roam your face, as if he is memorizing every single detail on it. he licks his lips, and his gaze softens. "swallow for me."

in the dead silence, you can almost hear your sanity shatter. you do as he tells you, with no thoughts in your brain. the liquid stings your throat, but the growing lust inside of you overshadows it. you subconsciously lick your lips, mimicking him. he smiles to himself, noticing it.

"good girl."

what you didn't expect is for him to turn around and sit on the wooden stool, rolling his sleeves further up and getting back to his painting. you stand in the middle of the room, red faced, warm and with drenched panties, shocked at his behaviour. does he do this with his models too? gets flirty, then continues his work like nothing happened? is that how he gets such erotic paintings?

"you can sit on the couch if you want, i'll be done soon. i can drive you back."

you sit on the couch, immediately sinking into it. "how did you know i didn't drive here?"

"you always walk," he simply replies, his back still turned towards you and his hands working on the canvas, "i see you every day when you pass by the museum."

oh.

"what do you say? think you can manage with me for half an hour in here? i heard you don't like me much."

your cheeks are redder than ever, lust combined with embarrassment bringing out the worst in you. "i apologized."

you hear him chuckle. "i know. no harm in a little teasing."

minutes feel like hours as you sit upside down on the comfy green couch, legs resting over the backrest and head hanging from the couch above the carpet. he doesn't pay you much attention, but all of your attention is on him. you watch as his back muscles move when he reaches for a certain paint or brush on the high shelves, as his fingers run through his hair to get it out of his face, as his hand rubs the paint into the canvas. you feel a sensation on your clit, seeing his finger rub the paint in such an erotic way that you think it's not a coincidence.

you breathe out, trying to calm yourself again. you could leave, yes. but you don't want to. you're fine. you'll live. you distract yourself with snooping around his drawers next to the couch. you find a clean set of brushes, unused paint, and packages of clay. you play with the brushes, tapping them like drumsticks, then acting out spells from harry potter, and whatnot. until you decide to dim that little spark of dignity you had left.

you glance at hongjoong again, who still sits on the stool and has made progress on the painting. you flip your skirt over, and move your panties aside. using the soft part of the brush, you glide it over your clit, and shudder at the feeling. he stops for a moment, and you hurriedly put the skirt back in place. he doesn't spare you a glance, but simply takes a sip of wine. when he returns to his work, you also return to yours.

your hand reaches for one of the pillows, and gets trapped under your teeth as your other hand continues teasing you with the soft brush. you bite into the poor pillow, tug it and arch your back, all while pleasuring yourself with kim hongjoong's brushes, on his couch, right behind his back. you go painfully slow, as to not make too much noise. you're driving yourself crazy, and you can't help but imagine what wonders he could do to you if he just turned around.

so close to reaching the release, you close your eyes, and throw your head back further, still in the upside down position. the brush works faster, the soft bristles gently but fast brushing against your swollen clit, caressing your nerves just right. so damn close, just a tad bit more, and-

"put that down."

like frost, his voice makes all the heat and lust disappear from your body. you sit still, eyes still closed, hoping that he will just disappear if you do so. that you will get yourself out of the awkward situation.

"i said..." you hear footsteps, and before you can actually listen to him, he grabs you by your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, "...put. that. down."

his eyes are stone cold, eyebrows furrowed. you gulp, feeling so small and miserable under his gaze.

"now."

your hand drops the brush on the couch, then fixes the skirt. you try to sit up straight, but hongjoong's grip on your face is strong. you stay still, waiting for the scolding to begin. you're terrified, you want to disappear. you want to drown in that bucket of paint that sits next to his stool, and never resurface again.

"what the hell do i do with you? first you hate me, then you like me, then you avoid me. now, you ride my painting brushes? how am i supposed to approach this?"

you don't try to speak. you don't trust yourself with words. you can only sound pathetic, begging for forgiveness again. so you decide to keep your mouth shut and let him be disappointed in you. he breaks eye-contact with you, only to have a sip of his wine which he brought over to the couch. he keeps it in his hand, eyes locked on you again. his thumb caresses your bottom lip, while his eyes roam the state of your body. your chest still rises and falls quickly, coming down from an orgasm denial. flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead with hair sticking to it, almost drool covered pillow with bite marks, and your arousal on his brushes and couch.

hongjoong breathes out his nose, a glint visible in his eyes.

"open up." he says, voice raspy and eyes softened.

you do as he says, opening your mouth until his thumb can comfortably sit in it. he massages your tongue, circling it and playing with it. he takes another sip of the dark liquid, then looks at you with that glint again. he removes his thumb, only to bring his head closer and pour the liquid from his mouth into yours. you swallow it without hesitation, too mesmerized and aroused by the situation. never in your life did you think that drinking from someone else's mouth was going to make you almost orgasm.

"good girl," he praises, voice barely a whisper in the silent cabin.

he downs the rest of it, then throws it on the floor aside. the glass cracking makes you twitch, but he is quick to hush you and caress your cheek.

"s-sir-" you finally speak, not even sure what you want to say.

"yes?" the man replies.

"i- i should-" you stutter, trying to come up with anything that will get you out of there, "i should go."

hongjoong raises an eyebrow, believing your words as much as you believe them. his hands fumble with the zipper of his slacks. then, he takes the pillow you had just used and gently puts it under your head.

"comfy?"

"yes...?" you say, confused.

"good."

through the opening of his pants, he pulls himself out, wasting no time in giving it a few slow strokes. your mouth waters at the sight, even if it is upside down. his hard, thick cock leaks above your head, ready to be licked clean.

"open up for me, princess."

you shudder at the nickname, and at the way he gently holds your head so that it is aligned with his cock. you open your mouth once again, slightly sticking your tongue out for him. the man presses the tip against your lips, coating them in pre-cum before pushing past them. he grunts, placing both of his hands on your cheeks to hold your head still. the warm muscle glides against your tongue, kissing the back of your neck. you can't help but imagine how it would glide inside of you, slowly, or fast, gently, or hard. you'll take anything he gives you.

"relax your throat, baby." his voice is raspy and quiet in your ears.

you do as told, trying your best to relax it. as soon as you do, hongjoong seems to lose himself a bit. he slams his hips forwards, the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and making you gag around him. tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you don't let them. his hand then reaches over to your skirt, flipping it over and exposing your drenched panties still pulled aside.

his fingers find your entrance without teasing, and he dips his finger in so easily. your walls squelch around him, arousal flooding and coating his digits. due to the position you're in, his rough fingers rub your spongy wall exactly how you need it. you squirm under his touch, feeling overstimulated even though you haven't orgasmed yet. he adds two more fingers, stuffing you almost to the brim. you're full of him, in both holes, and a whiny and squirming mess.

he abuses your mouth, admiring the outline of his cock on your neck.

"rub your pretty clit for me, princess."

hesitantly, your fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing it in circles and guiding yourself closer to an orgasm. hongjoong's fingers are restless in your hole, pumping in and out, making you moan and whine around his cock. the vibrations must feel good for him, because he throws his head back and groans. entirely lost in the pleasure of your tight mouth against him, he can't help but slam his hips harder and faster, and his fingers start matching the rythym.

you try to beg, but all the words are muffled by his equally abused cock.

"what was that, pretty girl?" he looks down at you, pure ecstasy on his face.

"please-" you somehow manage to say it.

"please? do you know what you're begging for?"

you shake your head. you don't, truly. begging for him to speed up? to slow down? to make you orgasm? or not? you have no idea. you just beg him, to give you everything he has to offer.

the moment is shattered when your phone rings, the word dad on the screen making your stomach turn. hongjoong stops, giving you a moment to collect yourself before handing you the phone. he helps you sit up straight, putting a pillow under you so that you are comfortable. you take a deep breath, who knows which one in the row that day. hongjoong caresses your cheek, as if he wasn't deep inside you both ways just seconds ago. charming, he'd say.

"hello?" you answer the phone.

"hey, kid. did you deliver those things to hongjoong?"

"yes, dad."

"great! i was thinking about inviting him for dinner tomorrow. wanna come and help me?"

"sure thing."

"i was thinking steak, with that whiskey sauce you make..."

you are no longer paying attention, because hongjoong is on his knees in front of the couch. he gently spreads your legs, and looks at you with a mischievous look. you shake your head silently, asking him to not do anything. but all falls in water when hongjoong licks a stripe up your slit and you shake under his touch. your legs close reflexively, but the older man is quick to hold your thighs in place as he devours you on his couch. he makes out with your folds, as if he is kissing your real lips. his tongue teases the tip of your clit, spinning it in circles. he sucks it, tugs it and rubs it, all the things that have your fingers grasping his hair and pulling mercilessly.

his fingers find their way inside you again, curling up so that you get maximum pleasure. a whine escapes your lips, and hongjoong stops everything he is doing. you beg him with your eyes not to stop. you can't go home empty handed. but the man only puts his hand over your mouth, and ever so slowly, slides inside of you. you swallow him so easily, arousal leaking all over him and his couch.

"dad, i really have to-" you gasp, feeling his cock brushing against your sweet spot, "i have to go."

"oh? alright then. so, tomorrow?"

hongjoong grabs your waist, not moving his own hips, but instead slamming your body on his cock and bruising your skin with his strong grip. his hair falls over his eyes, loose strands perfectly decorating his face painted with pure pleasure.

"huh? yes, yes! tomorrow. okay, see you!"

you've never ended a call so fast, and you've never thrown your phone so far away.

"don't hold back, darling. let me hear you."

and that's when you let go. you grip his shoulders, moan into his ear, whine, squirm, whatnot. you certainly don't make it easy for him.

"for an old pervert, you sure are having the time of your life." he teases.

you try glaring at him, but you can barely keep your head up. "just fuck me, please."

"you finally know what you're begging for. only you're not asking properly."

"pretty please?"

"no, you can do better."

you think hard, defocusing from the orgasm chasing for a moment. then, it clicks.

"please, daddy."

hongjoong chuckles happily, and snaps his hips harder into you. "that's a good girl."

something about having sex with clothes on drove you crazy, especially since hongjoong was in his natural habitat and clothing. it pushes you over the edge, seeing him brush his hair back and looking at you with such lust. you're shaking harder than ever, clear liquid squirting out of you and all over him and his furniture. you're in shock, trying to reach your breath, while hongjoong still sloppily fucks his cum into you.

he grunts and hums against your lips, not yet kissing you. which you suddenly find very frustrating.

"you should shit on my art more often, eh?"

with a laugh, you try to cover yourself with the blanket. but hongjoong takes it from your hand, then uses it to wipe the liquid off your body. he tosses it aside, then reaches for his own coat to give it to you. hesitantly, you take it. as you put it on, hongjoong examines your face for any traces of regret. when he sees none, he smiles fondly at you, pressing his lips on top of your hand, just like that night.

"you're a very pretty young woman, you know that?"

"thanks," you say awkwardly.

"you wanted to kiss me, i know. but..."

you roll your eyes, acting unphased.

"...i don't think i'm ready yet."

"you just rearranged my guts, and a kiss is a problem for you?"

he laughs, but not because it's funny, but because you are right. he helps you lay down on the couch, then covers you with the spare blanket. "we'll get there, pretty. right now, i want you to take a power nap before i take you home. got it?"

"got it, sir."

"good girl."

[kianamaiart]

Hello your magical girl story looks really intriguing, the premise feels very creative, the art style is simple but good with its own identity, and the characters seem to be fleshed out with depth, personality, and backstory. In short, I love it, and I do have a few questions.

One: Is the story character driven, story driven, or something else

Two: Is the story rated G, PG, PG-13, or something else

Three: Would the story be a web comic, web show, or something else

Four: Will there be a lot of lore and world building, yes or no

Five: what other inspirations did you have for the story's characters, plot, and art style

Six: What humor do you use for the story

I'm only asking these questions out of curiosity. This is just because I love your story, and would like to know more about.

So please be free to not answer all the questions if you want. I'm also fine if you ignore this ask. so please, no pressure.

At the end of the day, please have fun, relax, work hard, take your time, and have a nice day.

I'm so glad! Thanks so much for your interest <3

Character driven (always)

PG/PG-13

Dunno! I've been reached out to already for a few opportunities but right now, I'm just trying to have fun with it and keep it mine until I feel like the idea is fully realized and ready for something bigger. Right now, I'm shooting to make a lil pilot animatic mostly on my own with help from a few friends

Depends on what you mean by a lot but I'd say a soft yes

For Aika, just generally other anime protagonists from shoujo and shonen. I feel like when you're doing a spin on something you do have to rely on the tropes from the genre at least a little bit. For Zira, Toko Fukawa was the jumping off point but they're very different. They're also both based off of aspects of myself (I feel like most artists do this with their ocs tho). Style and story-wise, I was definitely looking at Doremi and Panty&Stocking. That chunky cute look that's distinctly anime but takes some notes from Western cartoons. But mine's flipped where it's more based on my own style from working in Western animation but then having anime influence. And story-wise I like how they're more episodic with an underlying story. The magical girl stuff is more a backdrop that helps the story move forward and enhances the slice of life stuff that's being focused on.

I'm not sure what kind of humor to say other than my own? But my sense of humor has been shaped by Big City Greens (obviously) Adventure Time, Jimmy Neutron, Bob's Burgers, Smiling Friends and many other things but hopefully that gives you the gist

[yamujiburo]

if you don't mind, would you rank ash's outfits from worst to best? (also on the same topic, would you have wanted to see him in ethan, brendan, victor, and any other missed protag's outfits?)

Oooh this is a great question I've never really thought about

Shoutout to @/leafbladex_yt for this cool edit of all Ash's fits! (it's helping me judge the clothes alone rather than the art style). Ranking under the cut!

Going from least favorite to most favorite! AG, DP, SM, JN, XY, BW, OS

AG- I'm not a huge fan of this one. I feel like there's not a lot helping break the colors up in this design. The block of blue and the white "U" shape are competing to draw your eye and it feels unbalanced. I feel like if the "U" shape was on his chest or took up more space it'd help

DP- This outfit is pretty similar to AG's except Ash has a popped collar rather than a hood. However this one has two things going for it that I like. The "V" shape placement is nice and is what I wished the AG design had and also the black shirt is very unique compared to all of Ash's other designs that tend to be blue-leaning! Also like the extra pockets that make the pants feel less empty than the AG one

SM- Another unique look for Ash that I do like but isn't my favorite. It's simple and I do like the pants a lot actually but idk I just want a little more. The shoes make me laugh a bit. I like that they're going for a more slick look for the shoes but the little circles on em feel vaguely clown-like haha

JN- From here on I really like these designs! I like the JN shoes a lot and they honestly be my favorite shoes of the bunch. Not the hugest fan of the hat but I really like the vest and the white undershirt with red stripe. The balance and colors are really nice! My only gripe is the color of his shorts. It's not egregious but the purple that's only slightly different in value compared to the vest is weird to me. It works but idk I think a higher contrast might've been nice or just going for simple black shorts would've felt better to me (?)

XY- Don't have much to say about this one! It's just a solid, clean design. The hat is fun, the simple shirt with white trim and just enough lines to make the design look cool but not crowded is great! I also like the black undershirt. It's subtle but this design would look weird without it

BW- UGH this design scratches my brain just right. I looove the tall collar/hood, the 1/3 blue 2/3 white combo is soooo clean especially with the blue accents for the pockets. It's also nicely broken up by they yellow zipper and bold black "U" lines to separate the blue and white. So beautifully balanced

OS- This is a hard design to beat. It's just so iconic. Love the league symbol on the hat and the white panel in the front of that hat (forgot to mention I like that about the BW design too). The green gloves are great, I'm kinda sad they just defaulted to black in his other designs. The blue overshirt is great with the white collar/white sleeves. The yellow trim on the bottom, for the buttons and pockets give it just enough visual interest while keeping the design interesting. Keeping the overshirt open for the black tshirt is sooooo nice. It draws the eyes to the center and balances well with the light jeans. Love that it's tucked in also so the overshirt is noticeably longer creating even more variation. The belt is also a great touch! Love a belt. Belts are such a nice way to break up a design. The cuffed jeans are a look and I love that the shoes are designed but not over designed. The black and white combo with red accents is balanced super nicely. 10/10 no notes.

As for an outfit I'd wish we'd seen Ash in........ honestly Victor's. It would have been a huge deviation from what Ash usually wears, similarly to SM. Idk if it would have been my favorite look but it would be so wildly different to see Ash in long sleeves, actual skinny jeans and a beanie haha. Might have to draw this at some point

[sculkapologist]

I finally finished a NEW CUSTOM MAP ART!!! "Visitor," a portrait of an enderman, is extra exciting because it's my first full-palette map painting, meaning I used block height to access all the highlight and shadow colours available!! More on the full process under the cut, but the short version of what this means is:

ITS A VERY COMPLICATED CONSTRUCTION. I created the art, then planned and built this manually, without any mods or schematics for construction. Huge props again to everyone else in the server for helping me gather all the materials to make this absurd thing possible!!!

This was the original art I made for it! I'm a huge fan of the "compressed" look of the vanilla paintings, so I've been starting with a large image and shrinking it down, though there were a lot of pixel tweaks to get it to read well. After shrinking it to 16x32 (for an art made of two maps), I convert it to a limited palette that I've set up to match the colours minecraft actually has available:

The map palette is actually tremendously limited, so figuring out a painting that will still look good with that constraint is a challenge in and of itself!

Anyway, the way minecraft maps work, a block that is Taller than the block to the north of it shows up with a slightly lighter colour, and a block that is Lower than the block north of it shows up on the map with a slightly darker colour. So when making a key for this one, I marked all the squares with a little arrow if it's the lighter or darker version:

Each "pixel" here is a full stack of blocks on the mapped area: 64 blocks, 8 rows of 8. In order to achieve the affect of every block in a given pixel being taller or shorter than the block to the north of it, dark and light shades need to staircase either up or down. Because staircasing downwards in survival sounds even worse than this madness, I did some planning to make sure each of the "downwards" staircases would touch the ground, so I could simply staircase up from south to north instead. This involved figuring out how many up and down movements were in each individual column and planning out 32 little layouts:

It's worth noting that if you look up minecraft map art on Youtube, most of what you'll find is either, the simple realisation that placing blocks allows you to make custom map art, or an explanation of how to use a generator that will let you plug in any picture and then produce a schematic for you. It's very cool that these exist, but I wanted to do full palette art myself, without an auto-generated schematic, and at the time THERE JUST WEREN'T ANY TUTORIALS FOR HOW TO DO ALL THIS?? Now, having the experience of finagling all this, i think perhaps the reason is that this is a mad undertaking.

ANYWAY: PROGRESS SHOTS!!

I actually love how the staircases look..... its like some kind of modern sculpture

Fewer shots of the second half since I did it on call with friends; the last screenshot is one Thren took of me activating the new locked map to use for the gallery.

Once these paintings are done, I lock the finished maps, make copies, and stock them in the art gallery so other friends on our server can also put these paintings in their homes! It's a lot of work, but really rewarding to see my art decorating various buildings around the server. ;u;

I have one more custom full-palette painting I've done the art for and gathered all materials for; I still need to do the full key and plan staircasing for it before I can start, but HOPEFULLY if my resolve doesn't waver there'll be at least one more of these!!