uhh?? so pretty sure no one really follows this blog anymore But! ha ha im a bad liar and i’m working on taekb stuffs so. hi? (i’ll use himuup for posting stuffs so.. /__\\
this is a little reminder~ that i don’t use this blog anymore and won’t check these messages often/any time soon. if you’d like the link to my new blog u can ask my gf @hugbin for the link
also!!! i want to thank the good parts of fandom and my readers for being very supportive and kind to me over my time w vixx/thank you for reading my works and saying such sweet things about them. my lj is still up and open (@/himuup) and my AFF is also up and open (@/synthbin) but neither of these will be updated again (but they also wont be altered. what ever is posted on these accounts wont be touched again)
i’m done w fandom and fic writing but i’ll always be proud of my time with the taekb fandom and the people i’ve met here ♡ THANKU!♡♡
aaah idk how old this is? sorry for the late reply babie i don’t use this blog anymore, but my lj is still up and running (though i won’t be updating it anymore) and i just recently got back into twt @synthbin /3\
a/n: ♡ written for @hugbin‘s birthday... because i haven’t yet finished all the other gifts i promised her and i didn’t want her to have nothing on her big day (even tho she’s totally understanding and wonderful and precious and great--i love u, happy birthday my baby ;__;;) ♡ -trans hb; pre/post-op, you decide.
she very seldom wore pants, always skirts that cut off far above her knees, and a shirt she'd find hidden under the blankets, sometimes draped over taekwoon's office chair. they were never dirty, but hardly ever freshly washed, always smelling faintly of his armani cologne with the sleeves pressed and starched, rolled to her elbows. they hung like bed sheets from the broad expanse of her shoulders. this was what she'd been wearing the night she brushed his hand away – not annoyed, but vaguely hurt – fingers like ice as they touched the heated back of taekwoon's palm.
hongbin had said, 'what's your deal?' with something like pain in her tone. it wasn't always, and even then: not very often, but there were times – like tonight – when hongbin seemed to forget whose arms wound tightly about her in the middle of night, and whose shoulder she'd often lay her head against when she disliked herself most.
and taekwoon had heard it all before
(’you could do better’)
half a dozen times
(’why are you still around’)
but it never took the hurt out of it, or spared him the guilt that plunged like cold ice into his stomach.
he touched hongbin's back where the outline of her ribs stood hard against her skin, felt her squirm gently as if tickled, and he wondered if he pressed his fingers hard enough into her bones would she believe that he loved her?
*
she was on the balcony – mid december; rainbow colored tinsel glimmering like glitters in the deep pools of her eyes. she'd forgotten she was smoking. the ash stacked over an inch thick on the tip of her cigarette. her breath came in small bursts, fog like fire billowing slowly out of her parted mouth; she lifted the cigarette, but had never made it to her lips. instead touching her forehead, hongbin squared her shoulders. she wasn't wearing a jacket.
though it was open, taekwoon tapped his knuckles to the balcony door, not wanting to startle her, but she startled anyway. quiet gasp as her hand fell away from her face, and she looked up from under her eyelashes – heavy mascara smudged by the corners of her eyes – and when her vision fell on him, hongbin whimpered almost too softly for taekwoon to hear, but he heard it. barely.
he'd have asked her what was wrong had he thought it was appropriate, would have held her close to his chest had he thought it was something she wanted. but all he could do, breathing hard from his nose, was crouch beside the wicker chair hongbin was sat in. he touched her leg, and she trembled beneath him.
taekwoon didn't mention the cigarette she dropped onto his boot, or the bite of her polished nails in the back of his neck; he let her clutch at his hair, the collar of his shirt, had her falling into his arms gracelessly; all her bones rattling inside her.
'I dunno what's wrong,' hongbin said. her mouth was wet and cold and hard against taekwoon's cheek. 'I don't know—'
he lifted her into his arms, and took her inside.
*
her eyes were closed but her voice was clear as if she'd been awake for hours. he imagined she had been.
'tell me i'm beautiful,' hongbin said. and, when taekwoon touched her face, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing gently to her full lower lip, hongbin crawled into his lap; her thighs spread and heavy on either side of him. she said, 'take my picture, oppa,' and her hair shined in deep burgundy waves across her sharp collarbones. 'please?'
the lights were off, pale white dawn touching the skyline; taekwoon used his flash and warned her before he took the photo. he let her pose with her hands in her hair, on her chest; she touched her throat and the dip of her hips. she ground lightly against him as she put a finger to her lower lip, and let her eyes close, and all the while, taekwoon: heart pulsing within his temples, ignored the heat pooling in his stomach.
hongbin took his hand – reminding him to keep taking photos with the hand he could still use – and placed his palm, warm and sweating, against the front of her top. she hadn't a bra, only a thin cotton shirt, and she was freezing beneath his fingers, skin rippling as she shivered.
'bin-ah...'
she shook her head. 'the pictures, oppa.'
he took one of her breast swollen against his palm, and she moved his hand – eyes slipping shut – to her face. his thumb touched her mouth, and she kissed the tips of his fingers. she asked him to touch her hair, her throat; whined when taekwoon pulled at the small wisps about her ears.
and when taekwoon, panting lowly, crawled on top of her with his phone still shining brightly in her dilated eyes, he took a photo of her bare chest and the hill of her shoulders. he slipped his hand down the curve of hongbin's thigh, the back of her knee; he lifted her leg about his waist, and took a photo of her inner thighs.
'do you wanna see?' taekwoon asked carefully.
hongbin shook her head, whining – a warning; she wouldn't look at the photos so long as she didn't have to. taekwoon thought he could understand.
'you're beautiful,' he told her after she'd squirmed out of her panties and had taken his phone. he breathed it into her mouth like smoke, hands pressing heavily into her ribs. and when she came before he ever slipped inside her, thighs trembling about his waist, taekwoon took hongbin's face into his hands and told her again with his tongue inside her mouth.
her heart thrummed heavily against taekwoon's bare chest.
*
the blanket she was draped in was decorated in purple stars, bright against her dyed black hair, and she was drinking from taekwoon's favorite mug – he could see a new chip along the rim of the glass, but wouldn't mention it.
'hongbin-ah—' he hated that she jumped, never mind that he had whispered.
her hummed response, and he: dropping down to crouch beside her, to lay his head within her lap. his eyes fluttered shut as her nails pressed gently into his scalp, voice soft when she asked, 'is something wrong, oppa?'
he shook his head and buried his face into hongbin's chest. kissing up the column of her neck, taekwoon bit at her jaw, the shell of her ear; light pinch of teeth that made her nails dig hard into his back.
'taekwoonie, you love me?'
he leaned his nose to hongbin's soft cheek. 'don't you know that already?'
'I guess so,' but she was smiling; he could feel it.
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