Last Seen Blogs
fbhbeats
The Beats, The Beats...
savebatsfromscratch
Savebats
peachflowerie
Another me
titsmcyee
sasquatch was here :o
Text
A THREAD featuring OH HYUNWOO ( @somnusvita ).
in the clause of the poor rebirthed, he is the somnambule amidst the reveries in spite of his stern stance to never indulge in what others of his class might. he tasted the nectar before, all molasses on the tip of his tongue upon being accustomed to the normative galas during the childhood, his ripple a cauterised dream from a mother’s perspective. in this slumber, however, he shall not let the dreams sway him astray, no longer adhering to the forms of decadence. not anymore, not in this lifetime. after all, appa carved him to grow askew, his spine bent for the steeled, axed vignette of the impoverished. not that he’s been famished out of nothing, for it is a means of shaping, sculpting. he doesn’t blame appa even when he resents the part of laments in appa’s eyes upon discovering that he’s not entirely the trophy son with the rupture in his perfect polish. still, to be reinstalled into the scene is being baptised anew; an ascension that is almost uncalled for when he finds himself in the heart of this party, turning into a subject of attention amidst the myriads of eyes in the ballroom.
discomfort is a common denominator. those who gawk at his presence etch more uncertainties in him, embedding a further step away from solace. he is no longer the invisible, and this time is a thorn when it comes down to his pride, pinpricking. he is no longer a matter of focus due to his intelligence if not diligence, both of which what he’s been wielding as his esteem. now, it is how much his net worth has spiked, so he’s no longer imbued by the doubts harboured since everyone now knows he’s the heir of jung corporation instead of their errand boy, the unpaid intern that often was found as a veneered point considering his appearance. groomed now, in the custom tailored suit, that focal factor is even amplified, but that alone had never been enough to be seen the way he is now. the young multibillionaire… well, he doesn’t feel accomplished at all. he’s still too young for this; the inexperienced shouldn’t belong within the same parentheses as these businessmen. he should lower his head, his back, bending and bowing, but it is proven as more difficult than the otherwise when he shoulders so much. the insignia of the jung family, now, he seeks faces in the confines only to locate a painfully familiar one.
oh hyunwoo. flashback to the days he was laughed at, trodden underneath the heavy of the snickering face that undermines him considering the absence of wealth. just the kind of person that he detests, truly. he did let the other trample on him, seeing that he’s always been more on the passive side, even when he eventually did fight back. no, he didn’t let hyunwoo come out unscathed, but still… he has come to nurture a form of hatred towards someone so despicable. for that, he looks away as soon as he catches hyunwoo in his line of vision, but it is too late. hyunwoo has captured him in sight, and uriel is almost positive that hyunwoo has discovered the lie coaxed in uriel’s youth. so, when hyunwoo parts the sea of foreign faces to reach him, uriel hurriedly discards his glass of champagne, excusing himself from the current company that’s been discussing topics out of his league anyway. this might have been the first time he is announced as the next ceo of the corporation, acting as the heir, but this is definitely not his first escape out of such a circumstance.
a sigh later, and he loses hyunwoo as he heads out of the back door. out of paranoia, he has memorised the routes to the doors in this mansion, mapping the incognito exits via the various compounds. he sneaks out from the door leading to the narrow alleyway, believing he has evaded the threat of the night as he vacates the building. he exhales, the depth of the dimly lit way leading to the dumpster proffering no consolation, but it’s not like being suffocated inside is better in contemplation. and just when he’s about to turn his back to the path leading towards the gate, he encounters the face he’s been running from. hyunwoo looks displeased, as always, but that provides a triumph in uriel. after all, hyunwoo is typically the one acting as a nuisance… not that he isn’t, now, but at least uriel gets to see the annoyance inscribed firsthand on the other’s face. he schools his own countenance from being startled, stilling his demeanour into something more composed.
the calm remains when hyunwoo asks him about his background, in which he replies with a shrug. “not like you were interested in knowing me when i was poor, so why do you care now?” he asks without any greeting even when he was tempted to indulge in the sarcasm. a smirk, then, almost uncharacteristic of him. “i bet you only talk to me now because i’m somehow more of your… level?” he sighs after a lapse. “if you’re here seeking to aggravate me, please just… don’t.”
#thr.#somnusvita#and: oh hyunwoo.#uriel ft. hyunwoo: thr i.#ver: iv.#tag: all the love in the world.
0 notes
Text
A THREAD featuring PAK SEOJUNG ( @unceased ).
dread pushed aside, tonight somehow counts as a rather… capricious one. they do not typically wilt in the hands of the clockwork, hours and hours spent outside an anomaly for two minds that barely catch sleep. they would rather stay home, sometimes, the addendum of rest an utmost priority for ones that have themselves worked down to the bones. and marrows, incised with the weight of the world with all the eyes set on them. however, tonight… again, an amalgamation of haphazard intents stitched into one, finding themselves tangled in the braids of antithesis, even after the prolonged fight over something trivial. again, as much as uriel would like to stand his ground, it doesn’t last when they barely have time together these days. deux and genesis, with their polarising schedules. and then, the solo activities on uriel’s end, leaving them bare with almost no moment in their shared chamber.
for that, he’s willing to set the difference away, placing their trivial banters for the moment’s reprieve. here, in the private room for two… they have been imbibing more than they should, perhaps, but the wilting hour tells them they should celebrate the win of the comeback. consecutive trophies might render this festivity moot, his solo comeback isn’t always an excuse to inebriate themselves, but tonight is rather… distinguished. he finds himself in the crux of stupors, the heavy of his head a common sign towards departure, but seojung laughs. and laughs. pours more into their glasses. another small bottle of soju, just another small bottle of soju. perhaps they’re seeking ways to justify their conducts, the momentum propelling towards the fact that it’s a rarity. so, indulging in this he does, the deluge of his own voice echoing in the chamber together with seojung’s. and to ruminate over the fact that he hasn’t seen seojung this… loosened up for weeks and weeks turning uncountable…
the tessellated innuendos as exchanged turned to a discussion tabled, then. seojung is there asking him about that one tattoo parlour his deux mate inked an obscure symbol at, relishing in a conversation that’s more whimsical than not, but he’s certain that this is the intoxicated chatter seojung wants. for that, he chuckles when seojung downs more, following suit. the night fleets, then, the ticking seconds turning into a blur that isn’t exactly a good omen. still, the atmospheres influence their thoughts, carrying them away, ashore. somewhere foreign. uriel is half-asleep when he feels something puncturing his hip, nothing to care about when it’s insignificant in the scale of pain. and he brings them home via a taxi after the destination that he can barely pinpoint.
morning comes with relative ease; they had sex, that much he knows. head feels kilos heavier, the ascertained inebriety causes him to take a while in diffusing the haze of disorientation. seojung is bare, just the way he is, their legs tangled. the sillage reminds him that they could not even bring themselves to shower the night prior, their instincts guiding them straight to carnal desires. seojung’s scent invades, so he buries himself against the crook of seojung’s neck to savour the residue of the perfume. the fog eventually fades, slowly but surely, as he hums against his lover’s jugular. it’s been months and months ago since their last drunken moment, usually done in the confines of their shared apartment just to be safe. last night, nonetheless, eventually dawns on him as a sign of concerns. what if somebody saw them? the paparazzis—
and shit. he remembers the distinct burn in his skin, so he opens his eyes in a hurried perspective, searching his body for any mementos. there he locates it once he finds his skin underneath the duvet, the sheer patch of plastic barely covers the washed redness. for that, his eyes widen, finding that underneath it is permanence, etched. “fuck,” he mutters out of habit. the crossed swords, forming an ‘x’. he is quick to search seojung’s body, now, even when his head is still enveloped with the influence. what he seeks is at the exact counterpart: he has it on his lower left hip, and seojung’s is on the lower right hip. a single feather, indicating the origin of the beloved’s name. couple tattoos… well, they messed up.
“hyung,” he hurriedly shakes seojung awake, stirring the other from the slumber. when seojung hums, eyes still closed, he sighs. “wake up, you ass. we… did something stupid.” the only good tenet is that nobody might see considering the size and the place, but still— “fuck, hyung,” and out frustration, he pushes seojung’s body off the bed to have the other away from the daze. “wake up. we need to get these removed, or something—” worries his lower lip between his teeth, then. it’s not entirely apparent, at the very least, but it still ignites worries within.
1 note
·
View note
Text
A THREAD featuring GIM KANGDAE ( @lcvewave ).
the reveries instilled are often ruptured in times like this. he is to defy every source of diffused focus, for he cannot afford blurring the aperture for this kind of moment. a shift, he would call it, but he isn’t one to patrol around the vicinities aimlessly, his destinations are typically clear. today, however, there is a gut feeling that eclipses him, and for some reason he wanders. no direction, abnormally so.
the quietude at this hour is never typically unsettling. he’s used to the company of the dark, finding it easy to blend in with the backdrop with his all-black head-to-toe gear. this particular hour, regardless, proffers no solace. he is agitated for a reason unknown, but his instincts led him here, in the proximity of his own dwelling, which usually would be safe from crimes. cannot generalise the cases, though, and so, he stays still in one building, the rooftop offering nothing but the cold. the wafts of fogged breath, his enhanced sight helping him sweep the parameters. safe, for now, and at least he’s not within the altitude of a skyscraper. the shadows cast by the houses help cloak his presence, but there’s one house within his peripheral view that might be where the source of unease is located. still, the fallacies in logic remain: he’s almost certain that gim kangdae is of no human nature, but what he is exactly, uriel has yet to find out.
and yet, he follows the guide of his guts, almost returning home considering that they live next to each other… and no, uriel is not exactly trudging along because of the pseudo-attraction that he harbours towards that neighbours of his. it is almost unethical, at this timespan, to think about it when he’s supposed to be… well. he cannot defy the gravity of the sentiment that blooms within, but—
the silhouettes of men drawing close within the area are what fixate him back into place. he blinks, furrowing his eyebrows as he traces the trail, leading to the black laundry van parked in the alleyway nearby. he doesn’t have a positive inkling to it, opting to stalk the men’s movements as they make a quick run towards kangdae’s abode. four men. metal-inclined, they’re strapped with some firearms. this is a serious business, almost too somber for the outlook. uriel swallows, knowing that he cannot take any chances with it. the ricochet of paranoia strikes, trickling down his spine that he compels himself to remain calm in spite of the anxious deluge.
and then, flash. the dark house, inhabited. the systoles and diastoles of the owner embed an anticipation in uriel, as if he’s waiting for the scene to unfold as the men enter the house, perhaps believing kangdae isn’t home. he’s supposed to be on a nightshift; uriel isn’t certain as to why he isn’t, perhaps a change in plans, yet… he quietly lands himself from the rooftop, accessing the balcony after treading past his own house. he knows the layout like the back of his hand, having lived here for the past few months. a quaint neighbourhood with rows of houses unassumingly medium-sized even when they are intended for the affluent niche. a bachelor pad, once the marketing said, and he accepted it without further ado.
flash. he sees kangdae, already aware of his presence outside his bedroom. he sighs, having no real choice but to awkwardly knock. he’s not exactly renowned for the best news, his appearance sometimes an indignation for the enforcements that the good ones are not exactly articles publishable. still, he should be renowned, his costume somehow distinguished with all the devices and antiquities attached to it. he remains as soundless as possible, placing his index finger on his clothed mouth to indicate that they need to remain quiet. and kangdae seems to still be emblazoned by the weight of confusion, but he opens the door to let zero in, and that’s what matters. he sneaks in, swift in movements as he whispers to kangdae, “someone’s coming. some people, to be exact.” his voice is altered, sounding robotic, closer to a growl than a talk.
squints as they both are distracted by the careful footfalls, muted by the etched care. ensuring that the intruder goes undetected, but he senses that kangdae is equipped with the heightened attributes too to notice the presence. he is uncertain as for what course of step he should take in this measure when it’s not even his fight to begin with. when the man isn’t even saying anything, kicking the door open to launch a bullet towards kangdae, it is in his best reflexes that zero pushes kangdae out of the contact point, the exit wound carving a home past his own shoulder. he lets out an inhale out of shock, but the sharp gasp ceases there once the pain settles in. snatching his own glock, he aims the first bullet into the man’s arm, another for the thigh. the man yelps, dropping the pistol and falling down kneeling. he curses inwardly as he knows his blood is dripping, and kangdae might as well get that tested to match his dna, obtaining the information he doesn’t wish to divulge.
still, that’s barely the matter. the man starts wailing something about how kangdae should have saved his wife. three more series of movements downstairs, and he remains alert as he tosses the glock at kangdae. “handle him,” he says as he draws closer to the man to kick the pistol away from the man’s reach. “i’ll handle the rest.”
1 note
·
View note
Text
celestiialmechanics [ ID: LEE MINJAE ]:
– minjae leans onto the balcony’s handrail. round, brown eyes look ahead, in the mysteries of the city stretching into the horizon. his mind is heavy with the thoughts he cradles close to his chest when uriel’s eyes are on him. this heart that still beats inside his ribcage broods over what-ifs that still taste bitter in his mouth. minjae had been close to losing uriel. he was powerless to stop it. minjae had stood next to him, holding his flimsy body in his arms while uriel agonized.
sometimes, the memory triggers a blurred vision and a reeling mind. in this craze, minjae walks in circles and takes his jacket, ready to head into the night and look for uriel, watch him from afar, and make sure there is nothing around that can represent a danger. but as he holds the doorknob, fingers tighten around it and he lets out a sigh of defeat. sometimes, it is hard to make his heart understand that he can’t lock uriel in a cage. that if he dares to take uriel’s freedom away, this love, delicate and tender, will wither in his hands.
that is another route of his predicament. minjae’s gaze drops to his hands. forearms are propped on the surface and fingers remain laced together. as seoul steps into winter and the temperature drops, minjae is less aware of the change in seasons. the coldness of winter seeping into the cracks of autumn is like anything else he comes into contact with these days. minjae could find joy in the tiny things like squirrels getting out of their hiding places to jump around looking for nuts. he took walks and looked up, spending a few minutes to appreciate the sky. these days, he can only pay attention to what uriel says and does and shares. and sometimes, when uriel gets lost in a tale that ought to be funny, minjae finds himself unable to offer a genuine smile.
when uriel almost died, minjae is sure a part of himself left with him. he can’t bring this up though. he can’t let uriel fret over something that may be beyond salvation now. if he got distracted, it could be a moment of hesitation that placed him back on the line of danger. it is already a great effort to watch uriel leave at night, hands firm at his sides instead of reaching out to keep uriel here, with him. if his soul –or part of it, died, there is nothing else to do. the son of death, above everyone else, knew that which dies once, could only remain dead. that was the way of the book of fate and no one, not even the prince of death, could change it.
enhanced hearing catches on the particularities of uriel’s steps and he pushes himself off the balcony, making his way back inside to find him in his –their room. minjae’s heart doesn’t stutter like it often did when uriel was in close vicinity but it still feels warm. eyes that often remain hooded and void of any brilliance, heat upon the sight of his precious lover. minjae is clad in a soft black cardigan, comfortable dark pants, and an equally plain and black shirt. slightly long hair is brushed to the side and locks of it fall over his forehead. darker hues take in the outline of seduction uriel draws with the cadence of his steps as he gets rid of the garments that have no place between them. ❛ welcome home, ❜ he expresses, a tiny smile playing with the corners of a heart-shaped mouth.
minjae sits on the expensive armchair and extends a hand toward his lover. he waits until uriel catches his fingers and lets his thread into the spaces open only for him. but uriel has other plans. this breath minjae didn’t realize he was holding is freed as uriel comments on his endeavors with such casual fashion. he hears the smile on his face more than he can see it. the light hum bubbling up from his chest is a melody that licks at his spine, sweet and enticing. ❛ you didn’t say before you liked the idea of having me wait for you like a devoted stay-at-home partner ❜ he teases.
minjae’s outstretched hand moves up. strong fingers trace the sharp line of uriel’s jaw. eyelids fall shut as he luxuriates in the warmth of his cheek. his nose trails against the slope of uriel’s while his free hand settles on the small of his back. it is easy to get lost in his scent, in the tickle of uriel’s hair against pale skin. to have those arms surrounding his neck, those hips moving, sinuous and provocative, over his lap. anatomy is a piece he owns that is not in decadence. his body’s memory is clearer than his soul’s. it knows the shape of uriel’s backside on his lap, knows the way up every knob of his spine. arousal stirs low, tingling in his blood and sending jolts of interest to every single one of his senses.
❛ oh? ❜ he whispers into his beloved’s ear. that hand once reverent over uriel’s features travels up until it is buried in soft black hair. fingers pull at locks of hair, light and teasing. his other hand is firmer on his grip around a slender hip. minjae lets his legs open further under uriel’s weight, enjoying the friction his love is igniting on purpose. ❛ you sure you can keep up? i may want to torment you first. ❜ he tantalizes, hips rolling upward in a discreeter motion. that little smile becomes a bit wider as his mouth ghosts over plush lips. the sensation sends a shock of pleasure into his system. uriel is tugging at his heartstrings without effort.
the vicissitudes typically emerge in the dawn of their rendezvous, the wounds lacerating them yet to be cauterised entirely but uriel understands how to wrap a temporary gauze around it. their tourniquets might still be soaked in incarnadine, sure, minjae’s ichor a signature brand of their gashes, but he knows better than to dwell in the way carnage blooms on these figurative fabrics. after all, they have to move on. in the lacklustre of light within the night’s husk, the cacophonies of thoughts as embedded by the traumas might have been prevalent, permanent, but… he isn’t one to clasp his teeth around the past so tightly he loses grip on realities. not anymore; he is no longer the bearer of a crucifix that might be too heavy for his tattered shoulders. they are, the dying moments wilt at the back of his mind, but he is still as persistent when it comes down to living the life in manners he should have. immortality ascertained, he carries more weight than he already did, unable to discard the responsibilities that dawned on him. and so, he knows. he knows whenever he looks at minjae, the cross for them to endure but the heavier parts impose on minjae so much, too much, and uriel wishes that sometimes he could be more selfish towards strangers. altruism is a mantle donned, he is no saint but he is no beast. cruelties might befall in the face of an exit from the obligations.
however, the teeth that sink their incisors deep into their flesh can be forgone within these parentheses. transient, sure, but as he draws closer to minjae, the riveting covets are no longer resistible… not that uriel has ever prided himself in the virtue of self-restraints. in the absence of such concepts, he hums. the scent, the sight, he imbibes all those with the persistence of a lover. minjae’s touch is something that he has always missed, regardless of the succinct lapses between their interactions. after all, the trauma did carve more attachments within, the latent fears a justified excuse to no longer falter in their dependence. no, it is not the best resort, to be so coaxed by the formative reliance, but judging from what they faced together in the crossroad of life and death, such exchanges can somehow be normalised.
the juncture of this love a common complacency, this becomes the culture of their interactions now. the coquettish dance that he does as he exhibits the desire to own minjae tonight, and to be owned… it is inevitable. he undoes the disguise, layers of mask discarded on the floor, knowing that having such a hindrance might inflict syllables of agitation, if not sheer trepidation, within his beloved. and now, he is bare, leaning towards minjae’s touch as soon as minjae finds his face, cradling him with the cool palm. uriel hums as he does, the solace located in every touch of minjae’s that he can savour a common denominator to his complacencies. he heaves a relieved sigh, closing his eyes. the aperture has always shifted to that of riveting repose with minjae. the wars within sated, he is now a body owned by the lover. “i’ve always liked being waited for. hope i did not make you wait too long, though,” he says, hushed. the tone is veneered in carnal wants, that’s for certain.
another hum later, he grins. mischief glints in the dimmed room, he believes that they are now within the right mood as he rolls his hips, hovering lightly above minjae’s lap as he props himself up with his hands gripping on minjae’s shoulders. “right… before you torment me, though, i will do it first towards you.” now, a mirthful, wicked smile. a pressure applies as he leans forward, toward the way the heart-shaped lips hover before his own, the kiss brief. still, the deluge of sentiments does not escape it.
he teases and teases, the gesture signifies the unbridled decadence that he always wears so well. he is sutured on the seams with that right amount of tantalisation, after all, and after being together for so long, minjae would have been made painfully aware of that—of all the incidental flirtatious smiles, ones that engrave jealousy. this time, though, it is reserved for minjae, and minjae only. the smirk, as he understands it, is a flask of systematic seduction. brandishing that, he leans further into the touch, moving his head sideways just to press a kiss on the heel of minjae’s palm. “i’m yours.” this confession is christened anew with each enunciation. the proclamation is not abound, but enough. “hyung, you know you might be the one who cannot keep up, though, right?” another jest as he starts undoing the belt that would sheath his weapons. “can you… help me unzip this?” and by this, he insinuated the zipper that runs along his back. “i cannot reach as i’m too busy with you.” he pouts lightly as he buries his clad fingers in the strands of minjae’s now unkempt hair. the other hand strokes the cheek, a thumb on minjae’s lip to pry it open. then, the coalescence as he delves into an open-mouthed kiss, devouring minjae’s taste.
#thr.#celestiialmechanics#and: lee minjae.#uriel ft. minjae: thr ii.#ver: ii.#tag: bound by the flesh and bones.#( the proof of love from minjae aaah )#( also yes @ novel we love novels )#( this is just as happy as we can get— )
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
A THREAD featuring PAK SEOJUNG ( @unceased ).
a sink, a soar. he thinks of the world through the sclera of this kaleidoscope, the spotlights coming with a price that ripples in the sinews. there is always that contradiction, and yet, uriel knows better than to let the dissertation of pain rule over him. there is no room for complaints in spite of the creaking sinews, understanding the consequences that come with the height of this fame. still, it is not what he seeks; rather, the reprieve from performance is all there is for him, to have his body become a device of contagion. feelings delivered, that is how he ruptures the perspective of all these weights clattering in his marrows.
he would not lie, however, that sometimes fatigue comes so heavy, too heavy, that some nights he would curve his body, bend his body in the retort, and the concerned gaze of his lover does not go forgotten but he pretends to not see. curling his body against seojung feels natural as always, the definition of home a manner too cliche to foretell but it is where he truly belongs, the crooks of seojung’s framework a fit for both the mind and the bones. uriel has never felt more complacent than when he is pressed against seojung, torso to torso, smelted as a singular term against the world that threatens to rip them apart.
they have been nurturing the incognito warfare through gritted teeth, after all. years of being separate as the circumstances compelled, propelled them apart… he does not miss the dorm days when he would miss the touch of seojung’s calloused hands in the dead hours of the nights. the belligerence of said memories is what keeps him attached to seojung now, his arms around the culture of the contours. seojung fits so well around him, their arms tangled in the mould. they belong as they should. somewhere in the captive thoughts, when the curtains fall, they are here with each other, becoming, belonging.
becoming: the act of tattooing each other in the crooks of their beings.
the ink does not fade, even when they are disentangled, disembodied. uriel finds the cure of the maladies infesting his mindscape within seojung; he knows the other way around is true, too. and so, with the thoughts of seojung kept close to the forefront of the psyche, he moves forward. again, one more dance, the routines of six a challenge to master in the span of two months, but he is never one to resent or relent. he has been showing the world that he’s more than rumours crafted by the publicity teams to keep his relevance, even when he believes in otherwise. he has been showing the world that, and he is not about to break under the pressures. sure, there might be fissures, but seojung has always managed to fit around the lapses. he is the point of uriel’s shine, the prop of uriel’s spine. there is none of this that can falter, not even in the eye of the songs. and as he recalls seojung, he recalls rapture. this is why he’s been singing, dancing. somehow the world is larger than life, again, with the reminder of the torrential supports received. he is not alone, so again, he repeats. one more song, one more dance.
he collapses onto the couch as soon as he arrives home. ( and home is where seojung is. ) he buries his face against the plush as he sighs, and when seojung steps out of the bedroom, he listens carefully how those footfalls carve into the otherwise absolute quietude. another sigh. and another, and another. he turns around, on his back now, realising that seojung has drawn closer he nearly gets a startle from the way seojung hovers above him.
“shit,” he spills, before laughing. “you surprised me.” the legibility of the moment invites uriel back into the cusps of liminal reality, in which he spends the moments with the beloved. transient, but here. in other moments, he would be for the masses to consume, but for now? he believes that the part of satisfactions come due to the rare intervals. he is more seojung’s than ever, still, but the rarity sometimes spares them the room to miss each other, and it is a bliss of its own brand. he chuckles, then, before stretching his arms towards seojung. “i’ve missed you, punk. but i’m also so tired,” he says, pouting lightly. “six songs. i can’t believe. six songs, each with a routine. the company is really out there testing me.” and this is the first time he is talking about this, believing that as the comeback comes closer, he has the certainty reserved. six songs, that does not budge since the beginning, but uriel believes that now might be the moment justified to complain slightly, even when it is more of a jest. not entirely out of spite when he knows that it is what he has signed up for. hums as he cups seojung’s cheeks, his own palms cool against seojung’s warmth. “comfort me,” he demands. “i need a massage. i’m creaking even when you’re the one much older.”
#thr.#unceased#and: pak seojung.#uriel ft. seojung: thr i.#ver: iii.#tag: i think we should run.#( the brat™ strikes again )
1 note
·
View note
Text
A THREAD featuring LEE MINJAE ( @celestiialmechanics ).
the gashed frown engraved to the back of his head, uriel knows what might welcome him back home. alas, a burden carried is a burden continued, the maladies of atonement spreading in his veins still regardless of the probable consequences. in the light of day, the bitten, bitter atrophy that wilts in the mind of the beloved might belong as another mental conflict, but that is for him to endure, still. he knows he cannot discard the responsibilities chosen as much as he knows he cannot disclose the perplexities given. it is his own encumbrance to shoulder, and as much as he’d like to appease the lover’s concern, he is his own person before he is minjae’s.
in spite of the affinities, he still carves the conceivable conundrums into minjae.
the infestation of this plaguing thought is not one unforeseen, that is for certain. yet, he isn’t the only one in the equation. seated beyond all else is the reasoning of the values he cannot possibly divulge to minjae; not that he does not believe minjae cannot comprehend, but he does not believe that minjae needs to. it is another stress unloaded, so much, too much, specifically after what they have passed. a paradox indeed, how what they have passed cannot stop him from this either, but he understands his capabilities better now. the immortality, the connectivity. he believes in meanings that correlate to the given strengths.
the entrance is quiet. 01.12am, but he knows minjae isn’t asleep.
does he even sleep? that, uriel hasn’t exactly discovered the answers to. there are more enigmas shrouding minjae lately, and perpendicular to his own, uriel believes that the crux of these suffering that he braves through has naught compared to his beloved’s. secrecies, but uriel isn’t one to prod… much. not yet, at least. he understands that they are their own selves prior to each other’s. he can respect that, although sometimes, his words and acts might contradict. after all, the wounds are still fresh. they scorch.
this does not help. still, uriel is here to brace through minjae’s worries. through the rooftop, he makes his way back to the penthouse now shared. everything is bare to see. this included, and so, he descends to the first destination, the changing chamber where he deposits his gears, devices… well, except he isn’t alone. minjae is there, sitting before the table where his blueprints of materials are laid. behind minjae is the wall filled with pasted newspaper cuts, cliche of a vigilante to have. still, while the backdrop supports it, this is beyond any cinematic, scenic view. the concern on minjae’s features too palpable, there’s a tinge of guilt in uriel, but he heaves an exhale upon treading into the premise.
it is not exactly startling, but he believes there’s a reason behind minjae’s presence. beneath all the layers of calm, minjae is way more receptive towards the clinging trepidation after the trauma. its searing pain is always present; they do not get the privilege of having scar tissues from the event. no tourniquets can appease the bleeding, and uriel understands all too well that his heroism does not assist anyone in this voyage through the affliction. tonight, however, an idea that’s far too capricious forms, so he does not leave anything by the entrance, instead letting a smirk bloom underneath the mask. it should not be obvious, the outline that shapes the fabric he’s in clad in, the dove black a shade donned too well to blend with the dark. the cloth snugs around his mouth, however, still perceives the contour that is meant to tease. “where is my ‘welcome home’?” he asks, lilting in spite of the voice changer. the robotic tonality almost feels like a glitch, but he doesn’t let it perturb the moment as the display of covets unfolds before minjae.
fully clothed, the costume he is in hides none of his build. he starts unsheathing his weapons as he makes his way towards minjae, striding past the distance between them. one by one, this is an anatomy of seduction. he disposes his bow and arrows, then the dual guns… the daggers. they clack and clink against the steel floor, the lair of a vigilante not exactly a realm of desire, but he can transform it into such. he hums as he treads farther into the room, even more pleased when minjae seems to grasp his current intents. he chuckles, then. “i shall… be yours tonight, since you’ve been waiting quite some time for my arrival. i’m flattered, coming home from my duties to my lover’s presence.” from here is the clear motive to dissolve the tension that typically would thicken upon his return from his shifts.
and he lets go of all precautions. “good thing tonight was quiet, so i’m not too tired to please you,” and uriel is an inch away from minjae, grinning as he places himself before minjae. he settles upon the lap, then, arms thrown around minjae’s shoulders as he hums again, this time longer. “imagine our favourite song.” it is a demand, now, as he leads minjae with a cadence. his hips sway lightly, the fluid grace of a dancer does not escape the vigilante. “at the end of the night, i want you to fuck me.”
#thr.#celestiialmechanics#and: lee minjae.#ver: ii.#uriel ft. minjae: thr ii.#tag: bound by the flesh and bones.#( well since you called him a stripper might as well— )
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
A THREAD featuring LEE MINJAE ( @celestiialmechanics ).
in his dying moment, he wonders how he looks in the eye of his beloved.
is he just a mere clock, a countdown ticking to reach those zeroes? is he just a mere loss, a lover losing to the end of mortality?
he doesn’t know, and doesn’t want to, for sometimes the truth hurts more than intended, and he cannot stomach it right now. he has visited the laboratory, flying far to switzerland in a state so sick, too sick, that he has to hide it from minjae, only for him to eventually spill everything to his lover, knowing that he might not have a long time, after all.
and uriel is selfish. he always is. this time, he doesn’t want to die alone. the numbers invisible to him scare himself more than the one witnessing it. and he knows, he truly knows that minjae would panic. and that’s why, third day, he texted minjae. because minjae knows, he truly knows of what to come. so, uriel believes that he’d rather die next to his beloved than by himself. selfish? yes. but perhaps, it is his dying wish.
fourth day, minjae barged into the hotel room. no preambles, not that any would be necessary. there’s no justification for uriel to simply leave minjae when both of them understand that uriel does not have much time. it would be unfair to make minjae see this before his eyes… but wouldn’t it be the same otherwise, too? hence, the decision.
what resounds in his mind, now, as his heat drops, his body colder and colder, is the explanation over this irregular pattern in which his genes are mutating. his blood test indicated almost naught, no maladies. just… it might be the case that eventually, his mutation is eating him alive. thus, the decline in functions. thus, the decrease in temperature. there’s no further indication, for this case has never happened before… or even if it has, the mutants probably did not survive to tell the story.
uriel would be one of them, at this point of time.
he aches. his whole body does, feeling like being stabbed with dozens of knives. deep, so deep, the tips reach his bones. there’s no solace even when he sees minjae. first time minjae entered the hotel room, he was curling on the floor, in a fetal position, trying to grab something. some painkillers that he knew wouldn’t help.
today, he doesn’t know how much he can endure anymore. still in minjae’s warmth, engulfed in the embrace, he shivers greatly. the tremors cannot cease. “just… just end it here, hyung. it hurts so much…” he practically is pleading. “it hurts so much. i cannot take it anymore.” and for that, he cannot even feel his throat, voice caught between the columns. parched, but desperate all the same.
#thr.#celestiialmechanics#and: lee minjae.#ver: ii.#uriel ft. minjae: thr i.#tag: bound by the flesh and bones.#( :D )
1 note
·
View note
Text
A THREAD featuring CHA KANGMIN ( @luredeep ).
bare, thoughts are pernicious as always. in the depth of this clause as swallowed by the darkness, they are two bodies that coalesce. their collision a detonation, uriel knows better than to clasp his teeth against the sunken reveries, the predicament the only signature that marks the moment. still, he cannot deny, defy the amplified weight pressed against his globed shoulders, his endurance a notch to test. but this, as the existence of love is being a product to questions… he does not simply desist. they owe themselves this much: the honesty as their lips met in the open-mouthed kisses, exchanging the forlorn hopes long a wraith, a wisp.
he knows better than to open his eyes. the night is harsh, abrasive to an extent too much to bear that he chooses to suture his lids shut, so that he doesn’t have to propel himself into facing the coaxed truths. in here: the poltergeists of their relationship, not yet rekindled, not yet revived… still, he cannot disengage from the ferocity in which they moulded their bodies against each other, carrying the atrophy within to a cease. yes, this is the terminal, or so uriel expects it to be. he might as well fold his hands in prayers until his knuckles turn white, if the gods even beg to listen. but what kind of gods does, if they have pitted these souls against each other to start with? blade and zero are meant to etch a sillage of nemeses, but the cliche in which they find each other together in this bed, uriel doesn’t know how to handle the reality without collapsing into the solid ground.
the same ground that threatened to crush him to death, once.
again, the kangmin that occupies the otherwise vacant space in his bed is the same as the kangmin that occupied the otherwise vacant space in that scene. the reverbs of the scream still remain, forever engraved, inscribed into his marrows. even in his supposed final hours, it was kangmin to witness, to assess. the scene that was forever embedded in the forefronts of their minds, and now, uriel fears height even when he confronts it repeatedly. again, he could not leave without bidding kangmin a proper farewell, but then again… what is a proper farewell? he cannot seem to ever enunciate it, his tongue unmade, undone in the face of this trial. he is never meant to say anything of such a nature before the only person he’s ever come to love this much.
not even in their final hours. and so, uriel fears waking up, now, feeling the crook of the juncture between the neck and shoulder against his own lips. the scent is far too familiar for him to dismiss this as someone else. nobody can replicate the scent, regardless of how it is masked by the soak of substances. nicotine, alcohol. all the same, nothing has ever been enough in disguising the comfort. for that, he lets the moment seep, permeating all the sleepless nights that he’s ever come to indulge. this might have been the easiest slumber that he’s ever come closest to, and he can attribute it only to kangmin’s presence. and yes, it is real. it is true. still, uriel refuses to open his eyes in fears that this might be naught but a fragment of illusionary tales, as crafted by his desperate psyche.
regardless of the knowledge that nothing would be able to mimic this moment, he refuses to deal with the honesty. not now. he cannot confront any deliberate ruins, for this resembles a dream too well, he is scared of the possible emptiness he’s encountered over and over again. the image of kangmin’s back, turned against him… engrafted. no, no. he holds his breath when he feels the shift. kangmin is awake, he can tell even with his eyes closed. their habits were for each other to peruse, and so, this, uriel knows this so well, like the back of his hand.
kangmin’s hum is rimmed with the residue of slumber, disorientation clinging to their filaments so well. uriel refuses to open his eyes, still, even when he presses a kiss against the skin presented against his features. he tightens his embrace around kangmin’s back, their torsos pressed together within the engulf of this warmth as he exhales. “don’t go,” he whispers against kangmin’s neck after the lingering kiss pressed. “don’t.” a plea, almost, even when the tone is light. “we have… the conversation tabled, but can we… stay like this for a while? i can’t let you go. not now…” not ever, but he pushes that down the columns of his throat.
0 notes
