1 - 20 of 31 Works by heartseekers
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Youngjo does what he should’ve done since day one. Instead of calling Dongju’s parents or anybody else, he pulls up his phone and starts a new text message. Types “I’m back,” and not “I’m home,” like he wants to, then “I’m sorry,” knowing it’s not enough for the things that happened between them.Hits send.
Waits.
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Yohan breaks into Seungyoun's apartment after a party. It's all unplanned and accidental, of course.
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It’s all too easy to fall to his knees again, hair brushing Seungwoo’s pale robes. He hopes Seungwoo will forgive his insolence in favor of accepting his oblation, and that he won’t find it too impudent.
There’s not much you can offer to a god that has it all, but Seungyoun is willing to try anyway.
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The horse's peaceful gait makes Byeongkwan feel sick once they put the veil on him. He tugs at the rope tied around his wrists, biting his lip at the rough drag of hemp over raw skin and tries to drown out the voices filtering through the cloth.
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Sejun's thighs are painted berry-purple, Tuscany-yellow and moss-green. Seungsik fits his hands over the muscle and presses.
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Yu Yan watches her through lidded eyes; the way she glides across the room unseen, like a ghost, loosely circling the table. Her red dress spells trouble and yet Yu Yan's the only one looking at her, seeing the glint in her eye as she skims unnaturally pale fingers along the back of a few chairs, unperturbed by the chaos of the place, the laughter that swirls up towards the ceiling.They lock eyes. Yu Yan gulps, and plays her hand.
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formalities aside (never looked so good on your arm) by heartseekers
Fandoms: 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV), 青春有你2
22 Apr 2020
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Xiaotang swears that if Keyin keeps talking over the auctioneer, going on about all the old people around them and the fact that she's bored, she's going to snap. -
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Dimly, Hangyul wonders if he’s also hit his head last night; he can’t really tell with the way it’s pounding—like a particularly mean little goblin is dancing all around his skull with a vengeance. He rubs his eyes again but Seungyoun’s still standing there, back bare and skin a pretty, creamy color that’s made livelier by the light streaming through their window.Nothing can prepare him for when Seungyoun turns around, smiling at Hangyul as if he doesn't have a tattoo pointing right towards his dick.
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With nothing to do, Seungyoun’s got more time to waste by himself and to also notice the jitters wracking his body. He worries that it’s too obvious, the fine tremor in his hands and how he’s so unsettled sometimes he feels like climbing the walls, especially when he’s got a new meeting scheduled. The prospect of seeing Hangyul makes his teeth buzz until they’re aching, and lately that’s not only because Hangyul’s bringing him his fix, keeping the little bag between two loose fingers until Seungyoun hands over the money. If Seungwoo knew, he’d be so ashamed.
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It’s all too easy to pull him back in after that, fist tightening around the leather until it creaks quietly. The kiss Seungwoo places on Yohan’s lips is soft until it isn’t, licking greedily into the boy’s mouth just to hear him whine between his teeth, tongue clumsy when he tries tangling it around Seungwoo’s the way he’s been taught before. It makes his cock throb, seeing Yohan try to match his pace and almost failing, clenching his fists on his thighs as his features scrunch up cutely when he feels his spit leaking from the corners of his mouth.
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When Jongho wanders through the doors with his hair sticking up and his blanket still around his shoulders, tripping over it twice before reaching the kitchen, Hongjoong knows it’s one of those days. At least he has two of his hyungs to look after him.
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Hangyul looks rather stunning with his face framed by Yohan's thighs.
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Debauched, flushed, overwhelmed, breathless; the four states of Kim Yohan when he's in Seungyoun's hands.
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He feels the light touch skimming over his arm when the stranger lifts his hand up, trailing it from Hangyul’s wrist to his shoulder. Short fingers bury themselves in the hair at the back of his head, pulling at Hangyul until he’s resting his forehead on the man’s shoulder, groaning as Hangyul fits one leg between his thighs.
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When he finally gets back to Hangyul, the boy’s panting heavily in anticipation. Seungwoo’s smile is gentle but Hangyul still feels pinned down, having those bright eyes on him. The older man doesn’t even blink when he raises one of his fists above Hangyul’s stomach, cold droplets of water falling onto his heated skin. He shushes Hangyul when he gasps, one hand petting his hip apologetically—although he doesn’t fail to notice how his cock jumps again, tip shiny with more than just stray splashes of water.
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Hangyul's day doesn't even start until he's had at least one Seungyoun-related crisis at his workplace.
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There's no 'oh, hyung, unwanted physical contact might send you home,' anymore, no smart remarks or laughter as Seungwoo goes around asking people to shower with him. Nowadays, Yohan's busy sucking on Seungwoo's fingers, trying to keep quiet; standing on shaky legs as Seungwoo jerks him off hard and fast under the water spray.
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Nothing can prepare him for the way Seungyoun hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling his lip between his teeth as he lowers them slowly, painstakingly so; revealing inch after inch of soft looking skin, glowing in the light of their lamps, trembling slightly with each breath he takes.
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Just Jackson and his house, the morning after.
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Kun hears the commotion from his small office space. He doesn’t think much of it—drunk patrons sometimes fall asleep in the bushes outside the establishment, and are particularly hard to get to leave in the morning—until a higher voice cuts through the gruff yelling; sounding sweet even in anger, slightly nasal as its owner demands to be let go of. It makes Kun get up from his chair and pad over to the window, peering through the curtains at the street below him.