lenticulars
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as the tears and rain fall in tandem by vwi (lenticulars)
Fandoms: 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime), 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Manga)
02 Feb 2023
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In a world free from haunting burdens left upon the shoulders of the Demon Slayer Corps, Sanemi finds solace within Kyojuro after the storm of war has passed.
And perhaps, reminisces over his memories with loved ones, as well.
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Wonjin keeps shooting, but his bullets don't connect. As his character falls, the round ends and his screen flashes red. LOST. TEAM ELIMINATED.
"What happened, Wonjin?" He refuses to look up, already knowing that Hyeongjun has this ugly and fake pout on. "Don't want to stand up anymore?"
He digs his nails into the palms of his hands, to the point he almost draws blood. It's a better option compared to giving in to his urge of raising up a middle finger. That'd be a nasty fine he would very much like to avoid, though it is hard to resist the temptation.
Or: Proud trash talker Wonjin and his struggles once he is up against an opponent that knows just how to get in his head.
Bookmarked by glint (lenticulars)
30 Dec 2025
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"You were kind of right."
"Hm?"
"My rookie luck." Hyeongjun clarifies. "That's what gave me you, isn't it?"
Wonjin doesn't answer with words. But the uncontrollable smile that plasters across his face, along with the warmth that spreads throughout his entire body work as good enough of a response.
Hyeongjun hums, pressing their noses together. "Lucky me."
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Some truths: Changbin owns property. Jisung doesn’t (currently) have a girlfriend.
Some lies: What Changbin and Jisung have isn't that sort of devotion. It's not dating, it's not marriage. It's not—romantic. Not really. Not unless Changbin digs down into himself deep enough to hit oil and let it gush, spilling uselessly above ground. He can't afford that. Jisung can't, either.
Bookmarked by lenticulars
23 Mar 2026
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“Not like we're–” a laugh instead of the word “gay.” It's the attitude that has followed them to still fumbling in the dark now. Maybe Changbin's mistake goes back that far. Jisung had been young and brash and more easily bruised. So had Changbin. He didn't know better at the time.
Did he know better at twenty? Both of them drunk--all of them drunk, honestly, but them specifically stumbling to a secluded part of a pension in Japan to make out and rut against each other until Changbin came, and Jisung said, panting just as hard as his cock in his jeans, “Hyung, there's this girl. You know, Ryujin's friend? She sucked me off a couple weeks ago. It was crazy!”
Changbin's mess in his pants went cold rapidly. He thought about one-upping Jisung by telling him how he'd lost his virginity–the kind that counts–several months prior to a girl he'd known back in middle school. He bit his tongue. It tasted like maturity when instead he held it in and dropped to his knees on the tatami to give Jisung his second ever blowjob.
Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. Where was the point at which he should have known better? They learned how to get around their idol barriers to meet up with women. The two of them messing around should have stopped then. What was the excuse they could even use to justify it? It was no longer the easiest way to get laid.
Jisung's twenty-second birthday, he rolled Changbin facedown and begged him to let him stick it in. Sure, whatever, happy birthday. Fumbling, again, with each other in ways that would be embarrassing to do with any other sexual partner. There's less expectations, less artifice, less performance. Changbin cackled at him when he missed his hole on the first try. Jisung smirked at him the next day when he limped into practice.
On and on. Changbin gives over to him.
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“Hyung… I need you to fuck me.”
For a full three seconds, Changbin’s mind refuses to process the sentence. It hangs in the air, absurd and impossible, like a fragment of a dream that has bled into reality. He almost laughs. It must be the punchline to some elaborate, sleep-deprived joke. But then his gaze drops from Jisung’s flushed, determined face to his hands. They are trembling, a fine, constant shake that betrays the steel in his voice.
So, this is not a joke.
The air leaves Changbin’s lungs in a soft, soundless rush. “What?” The word is flat, disembodied, the only one he can manage.
Seo Changbin has been in love with his best friend Han Jisung for years. So, when Jisung asks for hands-on lessons in intimacy for his novel, Changbin agrees (for the sake of art and friendship, of course).
Series
- Part 1 of of neighbours and fiction
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- English
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Bookmarked by lenticulars
14 Feb 2026
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Changbin’s face is a mask of professional comprehension. He nods at the appropriate intervals, his gaze flicking between the screen and the speaker with an appearance of deep consideration. Inside, a quieter, more familiar monologue runs parallel to the business speak. Leveraging synergies. Right. Synergy is Jisung using my expensive hair conditioner and leaving the cap off, filling the bathroom with its scent for days.
“Your thoughts, Changbin-ssi?” his director prompts, drawing him back.
“The proposed timeline is aggressive but achievable,” Changbin responds, his voice smooth and assured. He gestures towards a specific data point. “Provided we secure the additional analyst for the Q2 data-crunch, as discussed. The bottleneck risk otherwise is significant.”
The director nods, pleased. Across the table, Lee Minho catches his eye and disguises a smirk behind his tablet.
When the meeting finally adjourns with a flurry of handshakes and the shuffling of chairs, Minho falls into step beside Changbin in the sterile hallway.
“A masterclass in strategic nodding,” Minho murmurs, his tone dry as the office air. “You looked profoundly moved by the pie chart on third-quarter logistics.”
“It spoke to me on a spiritual level,” Changbin deadpans, pressing the button for the elevator. “The way the blue segment yearned for the green one. A tale of forbidden, quantitative love.”
Minho barks a laugh, a short, sharp sound that echoes in the space around them. “You’re wasted here. You should be writing the web novels your roommate is always muttering about.”
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Even if their leadership changes, some things never do, and Serim still takes pride in being a doting hyung. Which is why he allows Minhee to do as he pleases, taking half the space of his bed and more than half of his mind.
Bookmarked by glint (lenticulars)
11 Feb 2026
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“Will you ever say no to me?” Minhee muses.
It’s a strange question. Serim doesn’t know what to make of it. “Do you not want my attention anymore?”
His attempt to be playful isn’t appreciated.
“That's not what I meant,” Minhee glowers. He sighs through his nose and stares up at the ceiling. “You let me get away with everything. Mostly,” he reasons.
“Of course I do. You're very special to me,” Serim replies with ease. “My favorite dongsaeng.”
Minhee is staring now, curious eyes studying his face. “What’s your limit, hyung?”
The air shifts, just enough to make Serim’s palms sweat. Maybe he’s delusional, he must be. Making something out of nothing. Reading too much into the shine of Minhee’s eyes, mistaking his appraisal as reverence. When Minhee stretches arms over his head, his shirt rides up with the twist of his body. His abdomen is pale, as is the skin of his thighs. Serim stares until his mouth runs dry and forces himself to look elsewhere. Hyeongjun hasn’t moved an inch, still cocooned and fast asleep.
“That’s a secret,” Serim manages after finding his voice. He can’t let too much of himself show.
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Summary
wonjin doesn't mean to set himself up for a day of embarrassment in an attempt to out-bit woobin, but he does.
Bookmarked by glint (lenticulars)
03 Nov 2025
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After pacing an empty practice room (one of the small vocal rooms, so he's really just been spinning in a circle), he's come to the conclusion that he does need to go home soon. His logical side knows that there's no point in him being here if he's going to get no work done. The side that he's calling the unhelpful one or perhaps delusional one, instead, reminds him that Woobin told him not to be home late. Even though they end up at the same conclusion, he's sending a legion of the little green army men that run his brain to hit that side with a hammer.
"Everything's fine," he says out loud to a poster of Shownu modelling a bottle of iced tea, haphazardly stuck to the wall. Shownu assures him everything is fine, and he works up the courage to head home.
He considers seeing if Serim is around to run home with, though decides to pass, worried Serim will somehow get him to talk, or worse, sense Wonjin's antsy energy and make him run even faster than usual.
A long walk with music will fix it all, he feels. He can do this. Shownu believes in him.