js a tumblr gooner😪

Hey chat! Lil info bout me, I’m was a senior in highschool, going to college 😛 getting that major, turning 19 this december, very cajun, n my page is almost purely what i’m fixated on so yeah. have a blessed day brodies we spreading positivity

[peachfromcmbyn]

The thing about Miss Piggy is that she kind of has a Roger Rabbit comedy superpower where she wins nearly any conceivable fight she's in. But unlike other characters of which that's true, like say, Bugs Bunny, who tend to win because they make the opponent play the game with their rules, Miss Piggy wins because the joke is that she can beat the shit out of literally anybody.

[scramratz]

I think people would be less suicidal if they were allowed to talk about being suicidal without risk of being sent to the Torture Dungeon

[wienerdawgz]

Rip greasers y’all would of cried if you guys saw how expensive things got from inflation

Rip socs y’all would cry knowing in 2024 yall are probably now middle class

[grungeham]

icebreaker.

summ: jisung was supposed to be focusing on the game. instead, he’s got you pinned against a locker minutes before it starts.

⋆ pairing: hockey player!jisung x f!reader, established relationship ⋆ genre: smut (minors dni) ⋆ tags/cw: lots of kissing, teasing, jisung is hella needy, A LOT of whining and whimpering, grinding, fingering, tit play, hair pulling, piv, backshots, some slaps?, semi-public s*x, unprotected s*x, creampie, pet names (baby, jagi), fluff ending (if you squint) ⋆ words: 3.5k

a/n: saw a jisung hockey player edit this afternoon and my brain just went straight with this and honestly… no regrets. i had SO much fun writing this, i’m actually obsessed with whiny jisung like he’s my favorite flavor fr. also yes, i’ll always make him loud in my fics. anyway, hope you enjoy! >_<

the air in the locker room is thick.

it smells like gear, like melted ice, like damp fabric… but it’s not just that. there’s something else clinging to your skin. anticipation, nerves, pressure tucked into every corner.

and at the back, you find him.

jisung is surrounded, like always. the coach is talking in front of him, pointing at something on a tablet while another staff member chimes in every now and then. jisung nods, focused… or at least, he’s trying to be.

because every so often, his eyes lift and find you. it’s quick, barely a second too long before he looks back at the screen, like he needs to make sure you’re still there.

you stay where you are, leaning against one of the lockers, watching him like it’s nothing. you don’t hide it, you don’t help him either. like you want him to keep checking, like you want to see how long he lasts.

when someone hands him a water bottle, he takes it without looking, distracted… right as you shift just enough to slip back into his line of sight.

“focus,” the coach says, tapping the tablet lightly.

jisung snaps back instantly, eyes forward again.

“yeah, yeah- i got it,” he answers, but his voice is quieter. distant.

you don’t look at him again. you wait.

when the group loosens just a little, you step in. you slip into his space for a second, fingers brushing the edge of his jersey like it’s nothing, fixing something that doesn’t really need fixing.

the contact is brief, but it’s enough. jisung goes completely still.

“you’re supposed to be listening,” you murmur, just for him, not quite looking at him.

you feel his attention drop on you immediately. heavy, fixed.

“i am,” he says, not convincing at all.

you pull away before he can do anything about it. and that’s what ruins him.

he barely gets a chance to move before the coach’s whistle cuts through everything.

“everyone. on the ice. now!”

everything shifts again.

players move fast, skates scraping against the floor, the cold from the rink rushing in all at once.

and just before he leaves, jisung turns his head, just enough to find you again.

the ice reflects the overhead lights. blades cut across the surface in a steady rhythm.

jisung moves with the rest, but he’s not fully there.

and when his gaze finds yours, you don’t look away. you stay still, unhurried.

you watch him slow just enough. someone talks to him, he answers without looking. and the next second, he’s stepping off the ice like he’s already made up his mind.

he walks straight to you, pulling one glove off with his teeth, breath a little shorter.

“i need-” he starts, but doesn’t finish.

he doesn’t have to, because the second he’s close enough, his hand finds your wrist, holding on. firm, warm, even through the cold.

he doesn’t give you time to speak. doesn’t ask. he just tugs you along, guiding you back into the hallway that leads to the locker rooms. away from the ice, away from the noise.

like this isn’t impulsive at all. like he decided this a while ago. like he just couldn’t wait anymore.

the door shuts behind you, and everything dulls instantly, the ice, the voices, the scraping, like someone turned the volume of the world down.

the hallway is narrower, warmer, heavy with that same mix of damp fabric and cold metal.

you move fast, almost stumbling into each other, muffled laughs slipping out, more nerves than anything else.

jisung doesn’t let go of your wrist. his grip isn’t rough, but it’s firm, insistent. like if he loosens even a little, you’ll disappear again.

when you reach the curtained locker at the back, he doesn’t hesitate. pulls it open in one motion, tugs you inside, and lets it fall shut behind you.

the space is small. barely enough for both of you. and the closeness is immediate, inevitable.

his hand is already at your waist, pushing you back gently, but not enough to give you room to step away, until your back hits the wall. cold behind you, heat in front of you.

jisung doesn’t speak at first, he just looks at you.

his eyes move over your face slowly, like he’s trying to memorize you in real time. his bottom lip catches between his teeth, holding back a smile that doesn’t quite form, and his breathing isn’t steady.

it’s short, uneven, loud in the small space.

seconds stretch. you don’t say anything either, you don’t need to. you can see exactly where he’s at.

the waiting, the build-up. everything he’s been holding in since the moment he saw you hours ago.

it’s all there. ready to break. and still, you don’t move first.

he does.

his hand slides from your waist to the back of your neck, fingers slipping into your hair with a kind of urgency that isn’t rough, but definitely not patient.

he pulls you in just a little, like that tiny bit of space between you was the last thing he could handle.

and when his lips finally meet yours, it’s not messy. not out of control. it’s needy, pressed, contained for exactly one second. like there’s still a last thread of restraint left in him.

he lets you respond, lets you lean in. and that’s all it takes. something in him gives.

the kiss deepens, his head tilting slightly, fingers tightening in your hair while his other arm locks around your waist, pulling you closer. no space left between you.

his breathing mixes with yours. heavier by the second. your hands find his jersey on instinct, gripping the fabric over his chest like you need something to hold onto while he keeps pulling you in.

the heat builds fast. maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you. maybe it’s just how everything feels compressed in a space this small.

when his hands slide under your shirt, the contrast makes you shiver. his fingers are warm, but your skin reacts like it’s too much. like he found exactly where it hits the hardest.

a soft sound slips out of you before you can stop it. and jisung hears it. he feels it.

his reaction is immediate.

his grip tightens, fingers pressing into your skin as his hips move almost on instinct, finding you, messy, uncoordinated, just need.

the friction makes both of you let out a breathy, broken little laugh against each other’s lips. not teasing, just… this is happening too fast and still not fast enough.

jisung pulls back just enough to look at you again, hands coming up to cup your face, so careful it doesn’t match the urgency from seconds ago. his thumbs brush your cheeks absentmindedly, like he needs to make sure you’re real.

his gaze drops to your lips. back up. and then it lingers.

“you have no idea how bad i wanna ditch the game and just go home with you right now…” he murmurs against your mouth, voice lower than usual, just barely breaking at the end.

his breath is warm against your skin.

you can’t help the soft laugh that slips out, more at the way he says it than the words themselves.

you lean in, pressing a couple of quick kisses to his lips, almost teasing, while your hands slide over his shoulders, his arms, feeling how tense he is under your touch.

“it’s the last game of the season,” you say softly, fingers slipping into his hair at the nape of his neck. “you can hold out a little longer.”

it’s not an order, but it’s not a suggestion either. and jisung gets it instantly.

his hands drop back to your waist, finding bare skin and lingering there a second too long, like that alone is enough to undo him. his eyes move over your face, restless.

his hips move again, slower this time, but deliberate, pressing you lightly into the wall, like he needs that pressure to keep from completely losing it.

he exhales against your skin. too close. you shiver.

“then…” he starts, barely audible, leaning in again, brushing your lips without fully kissing you. his fingers tense at your waist. “please… don’t stop kissing me.”

jisung drops onto the locker room bench, legs spread just slightly as he smacks his thighs with both hands, a crooked, provoking smile pulling at his lips.

he doesn’t need to say anything. and you don’t need him to.

you walk over slow, holding his gaze a second longer than necessary before settling over him, your thighs fitting on either side of his hips. the air turns heavier the second his hands come up to your waist, gripping tight. like he needs to make sure you’re real.

a low, shaky sound slips out of him the moment he feels your weight.

“mmh- fuck…” he breathes, voice breaking as he buries his face in your neck for a second.

his hips move almost immediately, pressing you down against him with zero attempt to hide the urgency, grinding your center against him while his lips find yours again. needier, wetter, messier.

your fingers tangle in his hair without being gentle, pulling just enough to tip his head back, exposing his mouth, his neck. everything you want to bite. so you do. slow, deliberate.

jisung groans into your mouth, completely giving in as your hips start moving over him in a rhythm that’s anything but innocent. it’s not just friction, it’s intention. slow circles, exact pressure, every movement dragging over him until little sounds start slipping out of him that he can’t hold back.

“don’t- don’t do that…” he pants, completely contradicting the way his hands tighten on you, pulling you closer, pressing you down harder against him.

you smile against his lips, raising a brow.

“no?” you whisper, barely brushing his mouth before moving again.

his answer is a sharper, higher sound, his fingers digging into your skin as his breathing goes uneven.

his hands move without thinking, fumbling with the buttons of your shirt, missing twice before finally getting them open, rushed, clumsy, like every second is too much.

the fabric drops somewhere on the floor, followed by the dull sound of your belt hitting the ground. it echoes against the cold walls, and both of you let out a short, nervous laugh, completely out of place.

but neither of you stops. you never do.

you tug at his jersey this time, forcing him up just enough to pull it off, and when your lips crash together again, there’s nothing left but hunger.

his hands go straight to your chest, squeezing, kneading with a need he doesn’t even try to soften. his head drops forward, hiding against your skin as he leaves messy, wet kisses with no rhythm at all.

his thigh slips between your legs without warning, pressing right where you need it most. and that pulls the first real sound out of you. one you can’t hide.

jisung feels it instantly, feels himself react, hissing under his breath at how hard he is, at how you move over him.

“please…” he murmurs against your skin, voice lower, more broken. “just- let me- i need to feel you… i need-”

he can’t finish anything. his thoughts are lagging behind his body.

your hand drags down his back, nails scratching lightly while your hips keep moving against his thigh, chasing more pressure, more contact.

“look at you…” you whisper, leaning in just enough to brush his ear. “you can’t even talk…”

a weak sound slips out of him, completely exposed.

“shut up…” he tries, but there’s no weight to it. no control, just need.

his hand leaves your chest, sliding down your stomach and under your skirt, fingers barely steady before he touches you through the fabric.

and the second he feels how wet you are, he loses his breath. a sharp inhale, hot against your skin.

“fuck…” he breathes, barely there. “you’re already-”

he doesn’t finish. he doesn’t need to.

a low, disbelieving laugh vibrates against you.

“all this for me…?” he murmurs, softer now, but completely gone. “you’re gonna kill me…”

“then stop talking,” you say, pushing your hips into his hand.

his fingers move the fabric aside clumsily, finding your skin, warm, slick, and the second he touches you properly, your back arches without control.

your forehead drops to his shoulder, lips parted, trying, and failing, to keep the sounds in.

but jisung isn’t doing any better.

his fingers move inside you too easily, and it drives him insane. curling instinctively, searching, finding, repeating.

every reaction you give him breaks him a little more.

“you feel so-” his voice cuts. “i can’t- i can’t think-”

“then don’t,” you whisper, lifting your gaze to him just slightly. “do something better.”

that makes him shiver, a quiet laugh slipping out.

“you’re so mean…” he groans, but he’s already pulling his hand away, unable to wait anymore.

the shift is sudden when he turns you around, your hands hitting the cold wall while he presses in behind you, his heat against everything else.

you can feel how hard he is, insistent, dragging against you with a desperation he’s not even trying to hide now. his breathing is heavy, loud, falling against your neck as he moves, chasing any kind of relief.

“i need- i need to be inside you,” he murmurs, almost pleading. “pleasepleaseplease… just- i can’t wait anymore…”

his voice breaks on every word. and he’s still moving. impatient, desperate.

“then stop playing,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “and do it.”

that’s all it takes.

his hands shake as he gets his pants off, freeing himself with a breath that sounds like it hurts, like he’s been holding it for too long.

he lifts your skirt, drags your underwear down clumsily, and when he brushes against your wetness, both of you lose your breath for a second.

just enough to wreck him completely.

he moves against you twice, spreading it, trembling behind you, and when the tip finds your entrance, pressing, teasing without really meaning to wait, you lose patience.

“jisung,” you warn, voice broken but firm. “get in. now.”

he lets out a breathy laugh.

“say it again…” he murmurs, leaning in, brushing his lips against yours.

you push back against him in answer. and that’s enough.

he stops playing and sinks into you slowly, a deep sound breaking out of his chest as his hands grip your hips hard. like he needs something to hold onto or he’ll lose himself completely.

“fuck- you’re-” his voice breaks again. “so tight…”

for a second, neither of you moves.

the air stays trapped between your bodies. heavy, hot, loaded with everything that hasn’t broken yet.

jisung stays fully inside you, breathing against your skin like he needs a second to process it. like just this is already too much.

you’re the one who moves first. slow, just a small push back of your hips, and it knocks the breath out of him instantly.

a broken sound falls from his lips, and his hands grip you tighter, like you’re the only thing keeping him upright as he starts moving.

at first it’s slow, deep, deliberate. every thrust dragging, heavy. like he wants to feel everything, like he doesn’t want to miss a second of how you take him.

“jagi…” he pants against your neck, voice shaking. “you feel- so good…”

his words fall apart between uneven breaths, unable to hold a full sentence as his hips start finding a rhythm.

one he can’t keep. one he doesn’t want to keep.

his hand tangles into your hair without warning, pulling firmly, forcing your back to arch more into him, and the angle change destroys him.

a louder, more desperate sound slips out.

“shit- right there- right there-”

the rhythm turns faster, harder, thoughtless.

his hips slam into you with an urgency he’s not hiding anymore, every movement chasing that exact spot that has him gasping like he can’t breathe.

his gaze drops inevitably to where your bodies meet, and he can’t stop looking. can’t stop feeling every impact, every reaction, every little movement you make.

it all pushes him closer.

“you’re driving me insane…” he murmurs, almost laughing, completely gone. “you’re- fuck- you’re perfect…”

his voice shakes and his hands do too. everything about him is right at the edge.

the first slap comes out of nowhere. sharp, echoing in the tight space. it mixes with your reaction, the sound you can’t hold back.

“fuck- i love that-” he groans, doing it again, his breathing completely wrecked. “i love you- i love you so much…”

your movements get messier, more desperate, chasing more without even knowing how. the heat in your stomach builds too fast, too intense, stacking until it’s impossible to ignore.

every thrust pushes him higher. every hit pulls you closer.

“sungie-” your voice breaks, barely there. “i’m- i’m so close-”

“yeah?” he pants, barely getting air, hands gripping your waist tighter. “yeah, come for me- please, please, just-”

his words crash into each other and so does his rhythm. it turns deeper, sharper. like his body knows exactly what to do even if his mind’s completely gone.

and when he hits that spot again… everything snaps.

your body tenses all at once, breath leaving you in a sound you can’t control as it hits. hard, overwhelming, leaving you with nothing but him to hold onto.

jisung feels all of it. the way you tighten around him. the way your body reacts.

“mmh- ah- fuck-” he repeats, completely losing it, his rhythm falling apart. “you’re- you’re milking me- i can’t-”

his forehead drops to your back, fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold on and fails.

“i’m gonna- baby, please- let me-” his voice breaks completely. “i need- i need to come- inside…”

you barely manage a nod. it’s all you can give. and it’s more than enough.

the second he feels it, he stops holding back completely.

his movements turn deeper, messier, completely driven by the feeling, by how you take him, how you pull him in.

and then he breaks.

a choked, almost pained sound leaves him as his body tenses behind you, his rhythm collapsing while he clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping him standing.

the warmth spreads inside you. slow at first, then impossible to ignore, mixing with the small, leftover movements he can’t stop.

his breathing is a mess. uneven, heavy, shaking.

jisung doesn’t pull away right away.

he stays pressed to you, breath falling against your skin, arms around you. not tight, but not letting go either. like he’s not ready to leave it yet.

“thank you… jagi…” he murmurs, voice low, still broken, pressing a few soft kisses along your back. “i needed this with you…”

he doesn’t finish.

his hands move over your waist gently now, so different from before, like he’s scared of breaking you.

and just when it feels like he might say something else.

footsteps.

you both freeze. you can hear voices outside, movement, too close.

jisung exhales low, frustrated, but finally pulls away carefully, slipping out of you slower than necessary. his hand never leaves you, helping you steady yourself, fingers brushing your skin softly.

when he looks at you, he pauses. his eyes scan your face quickly. checking.

“you okay…?” he murmurs, barely audible, thumb brushing your cheek.

he nods to himself when he sees you, leaning in just enough to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

“stay here… just- give me a second,” he adds quietly, even though his hand lingers like it doesn’t want to let go.

it’s hard for him. but he does.

he gets dressed fast, clumsy, still distracted, like his head’s still with you. before leaving, he leans in again, pressing another light kiss to your temple.

“don’t move too much, yeah?” he murmurs, a small smile slipping through. “i’ll be back.”

“jisung! where the hell are you?!” the voice cuts straight through the moment.

that’s what finally pulls him away.

he opens the curtain just enough to step out, making sure you’re covered before disappearing.

you stay behind, fixing yourself on the bench, your body still warm, your pulse slowly settling. you stay there, breathing, letting everything come back down.

outside, you hear him.

“mind telling me what you’re doing here? i texted you ten minutes ago.”

a pause. too short.

“came to grab my gloves,” jisung says, and you can hear the nervous smile in his voice.

“whatever. move. we need you on the ice.”

footsteps. noise. and then… nothing. the silence comes back, but it’s different this time. lighter, steadier.

you let out a long breath without realizing, letting your head fall back for a second as your body finally starts to relax.

and then your phone buzzes. you grab it almost on instinct, unlocking it with a small smile already forming before you even see the screen.

and there he is.

jisung: “you think i’m gonna play that game after this?” jisung: “you’re actually evil for doing that to me before a match.” jisung: “…don’t move too much, okay?” jisung: “i’m not done with you yet.”

your smile grows on its own, inevitable.

jisung: “this continues at home. i’m serious.”

permanent taglist: @cherryblogger2003, @kloversung, @ykitsaura, @pporang-pporang, @straykitten88

[seodwae]

why do all the poly skz x reader smaus make y/n insufferable. LIKE SYBAUUUUHHHH

[seodwae]

skz bf texts w freaked out fem!reader

suggestive duh, 69, han is needy, felix matches your freak, mommy & mama usage, pet play if you squint, headlock, pegging, booty bangchan (not ai bro i made ts)

perm tag list - @borikentaino

[ateezlibrary]

keep quiet (m) • khj

part of the frat!teez series — ateez masterlist

pairing: frat president!hongjoong x reader

tags/genre: college au, frat au, power play, LOTS of dirty talk, dom!joong x dom!reader, friends to lovers, a little bit of voyeur hongjoong

word count: 5.7k words

synopsis: hongjoong has a way with words and it's a talent that comes ever-so in handy as president of atz. when it comes to you, not so much. your role as one of the sorority presidents and a rule enforcer might have something to do with keeping him wrapped around your finger ...

notes: 18+ content (mdni!), writing this one had me blushing y'all idk (also if you want to know what songs i meant for the plot, it was sin testigos at the party and then a muffled version of me porto bonito. you'll see what i mean)

this was one of the quietest saturday nights you’d had in a long time.

candles were lit, sheets were washed, your hair was freshly blown out. the rest of the sorority house was near silent with everyone out and about for the night. you were mostly alone, aside from whoever chose to stay in for the night to catch up on assignments. it was a welcome change—not that you minded knocking back shots on a saturday, but you enjoyed taking time to yourself every so often.

of course, that was an incredibly short-lived ambition the second you hear shouting coming from down the block.

it’s nearly midnight when you’re interrupted in the middle of your novel—and come on, they were just about to fuck—when the familiar sound of someone doing a keg stand echoes through the street. you groan and shove your sheets off, shoving your feet into fuzzy bedroom slippers and slipping into an oversized jacket.

“i’m gonna kill him,” you grumble under your breath, grabbing your keys from the holder beside the door and storming out into the night air. as the panhellenic council’s vice president and your own sorority’s president, you were responsible for any risk management. that included noise complaints, one that you were sure to expect if the atz house didn’t shut the fuck up.

“hongjoong!” you shout as you storm down the sidewalk, grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him away from the crowd that circled the two men being held over two beer kegs by their ankles.

“uh oh,” jaehyun, hongjoong’s little, jumps and shuffles away from you nervously. “mom and dad are fighting again.”

the atz president beams at you, a sheepish smile hanging from his lips as he rocks on his heels. you can see the flush from the liquor on his cheeks, his tousled brown hair falling over his face.

“nice slippers,” he comments, gesturing to your bedroom slides. you look down at the bear-shaped shoes and roll your eyes.

“i would have had time to put something nicer on if i didn’t need to rush over here to tell you to keep it down,” you scold, poking a finger into his chest. hongjoong pouts, an expression you usually found endearing. tonight, however, he was cutting into your much-needed self-care routine. “you guys have already had two noise complaints just this month. are you trying to get a third?”

“i can’t help that we’re the most fun!” he contests, throwing his arms out and gesturing to the ongoing party behind him. you feel the familiar pull of wanting to enter the crowd, to climb onto one of their random folding tables and dance the night away. even then, you held firm and glared at hongjoong sternly. luckily, one look was all it took with him. “okay, okay. i’ll try to get them to hang inside. is that better?”

“yes,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “thank you.”

“anytime, doll,” he nods, tousling your hair before he darts back into the crowd. you have little time to scold him for ruining your blow out when you watch him clap his hands, guiding the atz brothers and their guests back into the house and backyard. it’s amazing how quickly they listen to him, grabbing their coolers and cups and scurrying inside.

“sure you don’t wanna come in for one drink?” hongjoong calls from the porch, leaning against the front doorframe as the party carries on behind him. “mingi made this mango thing. it’s pretty fire.”

“tempting, but no,” you reply, gesturing to your pajamas. “i’m clocked out for the night. and we’re going to brunch tomorrow, anyway.”

“who’s we?” he asks, a teasing smile hanging from his lips. “cheating on me?”

“not that it’s your business, but no,” you scoff, trying not to match his grin. “i’m going downtown with the girls.” you stretch and turn on your heel to head back to the sorority house. “i’ll see you later. and keep it down!”

“no promises,” he sings back, shutting the door behind him.

you’re up bright and early on monday morning, fidgeting with your campus sweatshirt on the way to the university auditorium for orientation week. admin had asked greek life to be present for the incoming freshman introductions, which meant you needed to put on your best face. you smile to yourself at the younger teenagers squirming in their seats, the way that they look at you and whisper under their breath about who you could be. they remind you of yourself a couple of years ago, just before you had decided to rush.

there’s a long panel set up on the auditorium stage with enough chairs for each of the greek life presidents. you greet the others with a wave, settling into your seat behind your placard and perking up at the sight of a coffee cup in front of you.

“for the lady, an iced white chocolate mocha,” hongjoong hums, bowing his head from his seat next to you. a sip of caffeine jolts you awake and you hum contentedly. “the line at the cafe was insane this morning.”

“well, i still appreciate it,” you thank him, patting his thigh once. “oh! we should probably get together soon.”

“finally giving me a chance?” he jokes, his voice low as he arches a brow at you.

“sure,” you laugh, shaking your head. “no, we need to meet up to start planning for rush week. i guess today can be a good vibe check to see who’s interested.”

“oh, they’ll be interested,” hongjoong says, sure of himself as he surveys the potential younger brothers in the crowd. “atz has a rep around these parts, y’know.”

“tell me about it,” you reply in mock agreement, sipping on your coffee again as the event starts.

you watch hongjoong with admiration as he morphs into an entirely different person. he commands the room, sharing his experience juggling being a student with greek life. he paints a beautiful picture of the philanthropy work atz engages in and the strength of their brotherhood. hell, he was a good enough saleman to get you to rush. you glance out at the incoming freshmen, the way the younger men seem hooked on his every word.

“not to mention, our lovely ladies that partner with us pretty often.” hongjoong turns to you and the other sorority presidents, bowing with his gaze fixed on you in particular. “they tend to keep us in check when we need to reel it in.” the other sorority presidents giggle amongst themselves, commenting on how charming hongjoong was. you simply shake your head, the small smile on your face betraying you.

hongjoong joins you on your walk back to greek row, listening as you ramble on about ideas you had for rush week events and what the council could collaborate on. he nods along, offering helpful input every so often and praising your ideas. the sun beats down on you as a reminder of the summer coming to an end.

“hey.” you turn to hongjoong, your eyes flickering up to his. you smile at him warmly. “i just want you to know i’m really looking forward to senior year with you. it’ll be fun.”

something unreadable flickers across his face before he mirrors your smile, although it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “yeah, me too.”

rush week throws you and hongjoong for a spin. events every night, your phone blowing up with questions from dozens of pledges. what to wear, where the university center was, whether or not they could bring a plus-one. you felt like a certified event planner with the amount of work you were putting into this, especially after being thrown into one of the hardest labs you could have taken right after the ease of syllabus week.

you’re fighting sleep in a corner of the university center, surrounded by a stack of papers and an array of empty drink cups before one of the last few events. the carpet was definitely gross, but something about it looked so inviting as you lay your head to rest on your backpack for a moment.

just five minutes, you told yourself.

it was, in fact, not just five minutes.

you gasp as you shoot awake, cursing under your breath at the setting sun as you realized you had very little time to get ready. your outburst clearly startled whoever was walking by as a pair of sneakers approach you. trying to clean up your mess to head home has you too occupied to look up.

“hey, hey,” a familiar voice calls, hands grasping your shoulders. you finally crane your neck up to look at hongjoong and the panic must have been evident on your face by the way he looks concerned. “what’s up? aren't you supposed to be with the others setting up?”

“i’m going, i was just working on something for lab and then i remembered i had to do the guest list for their match ceremony but now i remember i had to bring the drinks to the mixer tonight and i didn’t get to text yunho back to use his car and now i—”

“slow down,” hongjoong urges, pressing a finger to your lips. you sigh, letting your shoulders slump as the nerves eat away at you. “you’ll be fine. go home and get ready. i’ll text yunho to pick up whatever we usually get for mixers for you guys, too. is that okay?”

“yeah,” you reply. “yeah. thanks. i owe you big time.”

“you don’t owe me anything, doll,” he scolds, pinching your cheek and earning a firm slap across his bicep. “just look pretty for me tonight, okay?”

“oh, i’ll look good,” you assure him, collecting your things and tossing a look at him over your shoulder as you headed back to the house. “just not for you.”

and you sure do look fucking good.

greek row is blocked off from traffic for a massive block party, the end to rush week events. all of the houses are set up, their letters and colors on full display. music is blasting at the far end of the block and you know hongjoong had to be responsible for dj’ing. it was always a hobby of his and he loved to show up for events like this. your girls had spent all day getting the front lawn ready, from balloons to posters and everything in between.

you stood on the curb, red solo cup in hand with your usual as you chat with some of the pledges. they giggle at the frat houses with flushed cheeks and you stifle a laugh, watching as they freak out over the way wooyoung corrals them into the street for a drinking game. everyone else crowds near the dj booth, music bumping and creating a massive dance floor.

one of the pledges nudges your shoulder, her eyes fixated on hongjoong.

“what’s up?” you ask, peering at her over the edge of your cup.

“i was just wondering …” she pauses, biting down on her bottom lip in thought. her free hand tugs at the hem of her shorts. “… is it weird for a freshman to hit on a senior?”

“well, it depends,” you answer honestly, already clocking that she was implying hongjoong. a sudden territorial feeling crawls up your spine that catches you off guard. “anyone in particular?”

“i mean …” she scoffs, pointing over at the dj booth where hongjoong was accepting a shot of vodka straight from the bottle from another atz brother. he swallows, his tongue running along his bottom lip to catch the last drop before he cheers and returns to the turntable. “he’s pretty hot.”

well, she’s definitely not a shy freshman.

“i’ll be honest, i’d stay away from seniors as a freshman.” you tap the rim of your cup to hers. your answer is genuine, aside from the gnawing feeling inside of you that you didn’t quite recognize. “not worth the ptsd.”

“hm.” she nods once, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment before she mutters goodbye under her breath and returns to the rest of the pledges she had come with. the moment she’s gone, you sigh and take a long sip of your drink. you look back towards the dj booth and still.

hongjoong’s eyes are locked on you.

not in an obvious way, because he never is. but even through the crowd and all of the noise, he still manages to catch your eye. his mouth curves in one corner just slightly when he notices you staring back, like he knows that you were talking about him.

“thought you’d be front and center in the dance floor by now,” a deep voice interjects, forcing you to turn away from hongjoong. you roll your eyes at seonghwa, another one of the atz seniors that was already buzzing from the liquor. a lazy smile hangs from his face and you chuckle before accepting a refill from the bottle of tequila in his grip.

“i’m supervising,” you reply with a playful roll of your eyes.

“mhm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. “then supervise from the dance floor. c’mon.”

before you can protest, he takes your wrist and pulls you along through the crowd to the center just in front of hongjoong’s setup. you can’t help but giggle at seonghwa’s enthusiasm, happily obliging when he cradles the back of your head to offer you a shot from the bottle. you hum your appreciation, swallowing in one go while seonghwa sets the bottle at the edge of hongjoong’s table.

“make sure no one takes it, bro!” he orders, his voice cracking just slightly and earning a chuckle out of hongjoong as he salutes him with one hand and scratches the turntable with the other. seonghwa joins you, matching your rhythm as you finally get the chance to let loose after being on the go nonstop all week.

you sing along at the top of your lungs, hands running through your hair as you sway along with seonghwa. he pulls you closer ever-so-slightly, his touch sending an electric current through you as you meet his gaze.

i mean, come on. you’re not blind, and it’s been a stressful week.

even then, someone else still had your full attention when your gaze flickers back to the dj booth. hongjoong is unabashedly focused on you at this point, but there’s not a hint of jealousy in his expression. instead, there was something kind of … dirty about the way he looked at you. like he got off to you getting close to another guy in front of him.

whether or not it was the alcohol, the adrenaline, the sleep deprivation or a combination of all three, you didn’t know. regardless, you let yourself lean into the moment and arched into seonghwa’s touch, draping your arms over his shoulders and letting him take the lead. he spins you by the waist, enough so that your eyes are locked on hongjoong’s when the first song begins to fade out.

and in fades a filthy reggaeton song.

the bass drops into something more sensual than before, a scattered cheer from the crowd spurring hongjoong on as he adjusts the mixers. you glance up at him, arching your brow in silent question. he smirks and raises the volume, nodding once at you as if to test you.

with a breathy laugh, you pull seonghwa even closer by lacing your fingers over his. he moves behind you, draping his forearm over your waist so you’re caged against him. he grinds against you and you hum, his body warm to the touch as he rests his chin on your shoulder. you melt against him and find it hard to focus on anything else.

well, that and the fact that hongjoong was staring at you with a ravenous gaze.

whether or not anyone else noticed, you didn’t care in that moment. you just let seonghwa bury his face in your neck and whisper something against the shell of your ear as hongjoong braced himself on the table before him, his knuckles white from gripping the surface. even in your state, you could still pick up the way his jaw tensed and his pupils grew twice in size from staring at you.

you knew him. you’ve always known him.

seonghwa turns you so that you’re pulled against his chest, still under the weight of him. you grin, threading a hand through his hair as the other rests on his shoulder. his lips ghost over yours right before the vibe shifts, hongjoong introducing a faster-paced song that cuts through the tension. the transition washes over you like ice water and you blink, easing your way out of seonghwa’s grip. luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind and waves you off with a wink before he ventures back to the atz house.

nothing else has changed. the crowd is still dancing, the music is still playing. but you turn to look at hongjoong and he swallows, finally tearing his gaze from you to adjust the turntable meticulously. before you could approach him—did you even want to?—the girls pull you back to the sorority house to help them with answering another barrage of questions from the pledges.

that night, greek row remains in full swing. hongjoong set up a curated mix he’d prepped as backup for everyone else once the pledges had returned to their dorms. it was a chance for the frats and sororities to decompress, especially after such a packed week. you finally take off your president’s hat to really let loose and find yourself standing on the atz porch surrounded by younger brothers that were egging you on to challenge one of them to shotgunning beers.

“how the fuck do you keep beating me?” heeseung grumbles through a string of burps. you cackle, crushing your can and tossing it into the recycling bin nearby.

“i don’t know, i’m just incredibly talented,” you tease, the buzz of cheap beer kicking into your system. a smile remains fixated on your face as you banter with the boys, watching as they debate who should take you on next. just as you’re about to surrender and let them compete amongst themselves, your phone vibrates against your hip and steals your attention.

hongjoong: we need to talk

your stomach dips, the sudden severity of hongjoong’s message stirring anxiety within you. was it related to rush week? did you miss something? were you forgetting to take care of something with the rest of the council?

me: is everything ok? i’m downstairs on the atz porch

hongjoong: i’m in my room, you can come up

his elusiveness freaks you out even more as you bid the younger brothers goodbye, scaling the stairs up to the third floor of the house where hongjoong had the president’s suite. in other words, a ridiculously fancy way of referring to the main bedroom of the house. the music grows faint from downstairs, along with the chatter of everyone trying to yell over one another. the third floor is much quieter and removed from the party.

you knock against the aged oak and a moment that feels like eternity passes before hongjoong pulls the door open, still clad in his outfit from earlier. a tight-lipped smile flickers across his face before he steps aside to let you in.

you’ve been in hongjoong’s room before, many a time when you needed to plan last-minute for events or handle younger greek siblings that were getting out of hand. this time felt different. there was a tension between you that was stirring ever since earlier when you danced with seonghwa in front of him, something that you never experienced with him before then.

hongjoong doesn’t speak right away, letting the silence drag on. he sets his phone down on the bedside table, not in a rush at all while you were a nervous wreck standing in the doorway. you narrow your eyes at him, wondering why he acted like he hadn’t just hit you with the most dreaded four words a girl could hear.

“you said we needed to talk,” you point out sternly.

“we do,” he agrees. even then, there’s no anxiety in his voice. “but i wanted to get you away from the noise first.”

“okay, here we are.” you gesture to his otherwise empty room. “now what?”

“relax, i’m not interrogating you.” hongjoong huffs once, something akin to a laugh as he leans against his desk with his arms folded. he gives you an earnest glance. “i just want to clear something up that i’m curious about.”

your stomach dips. “which is?”

“i flirt with you all the time,” hongjoong says plainly. “we’re around each other all the time. everyone literally calls us mom and dad. have you never …” he pauses, hesitant for the first time since you’ve known him.

“have i never what?” you urge, as if you didn’t know what he was alluding to. your heart hammers against your ribcage, any drop of alcohol in your system dissipating from the tension. 

“wondered what it would be like?” he finally asks, his gaze unwavering from yours. “if we stopped with the will-they, won’t-they shit.”

“uh—i mean—i—” you stammer, still taken aback by his confession. the party rages on outside, resounding against hongjoong’s bedroom walls in a low thump. it sounds identical to the way your heart races in response to him staring at you.

“oh, you’re nervous now?” hongjoong chuckles, his teasing sending color straight to your cheeks as you glare back at him. “you seemed fine when you were grinding on seonghwa earlier and made sure i was watching.”

“i didn’t care if you watched,” you snap defensively, almost too quickly. hongjoong scoffs.

“yeah, okay.” he rolls his eyes, pushing himself off of the desk and taking a step towards you. “so, if i said i liked watching you, you wouldn’t care?”

“well—i don’t—” you’re back to being a stuttering mess, heat rising in every inch of your body.

“or that i wish that i was the one you were grinding on like that so i could touch you and tell you exactly what i wanted to do to you tonight?” his voice is breathier now and your eyes flicker to the way his chest heaves under the confines of his shirt. his gaze flickers to your lips when you gasp.

the music downstairs transitions into a song similar to the one you danced with seonghwa to. the beat thunders against the walls and you hold hongjoong’s gaze as he takes another step closer, closing the distance. he finally crosses the invisible boundary and wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling your back against his chest so that you’re in a position identical to you and seonghwa from earlier.

as much as having a little fun with seonghwa was exciting, this was different. hongjoong’s confession hung heavy in the air and his touch was more deliberate. he traces faint strokes along your waist until he wraps his arm around you and envelops you in his warmth. he grinds against you rhythmically and you match his pace, dropping your head back against his shoulder.

“you’re drunk,” you muster through parted lips. hongjoong chuckles against your neck, a low hum rumbling in his throat.

“mm, no i’m not, baby.” he parts his lips, the warmth of his breath on your skin nearly causing your knees to buckle. his voice dips low, almost a whine against the shell of your ear. “i just really want to fuck you and i don’t know how much longer i can take it.”

“is that so?” you ask, fighting for any semblance of control over the situation as he continues to grind against you hypnotically. his fingers dig into your waist, the other hand brushing loose strands of hair from your neck so he could press a kiss to your collarbone. your mind goes into a spiral before you follow up with a weak, “since when?”

thank fuck for whatever hongjoong had added to this mix, because the sensual bass continues on into the next song.

“seriously?” he scolds, his fingers curling around your throat so you were forced to listen to his every word. “i always have. it’s gotten to the point i can’t fucking sleep at night without thinking of you.”

“can’t believe i have the atz president weak in his knees,” you rasp, relishing the feeling of his hands roaming over every inch of you. he growls, practically thrusting against you in response. an unexpected whimper slips out of you and he grins wickedly.

“oh, don’t worry,” he hums, holding you firm against him. “you won’t be able to walk by the time i’m done with you tonight.”

before you can tease him to put his money where his mouth is, he dips the hand gripping your waist into your skirt and cups the fabric covering where you’re already soaked. he presses against your clit to pull you closer, forcing you to feel every inch of his growing erection as he continues to grind into you.

he groans, tugging at the drenched fabric until it’s pulled aside and you’re bare under your skirt. just as you expect him to jut his fingers straight into you, he brings his hand to your mouth and pries your lips open. “i need you to get my fingers nice and wet for me.”

since when the fuck was he so nasty?

you hold his gaze, relishing in how feral he looked at the way you glided your tongue and took his fingers between your lips obediently. you purse your lips around his knuckles, sucking him in even deeper until his fingertips nearly hit the back of your throat. he pulls them out and slips back into your skirt. he pushes two fingers into you, knuckles deep as he falls into a steady rhythm. his free hand covers your mouth to stifle your moans, your mind hazy as you struggle to stay upright against him.

“stand up straight,” he teases, curling his fingers against your walls with every stroke. you shudder with a low, drawn-out moan against his palm. you grip his bicep and sink your nails into his flesh, earning a hiss before he bites down on your earlobe.

“what position you want me to fuck you in?” he asks huskily, picking up the pace of his fingers as he drawls against your ear. your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. his smooth talking was something you admittedly always found undeniably attractive about him, but hearing him like this was an entirely different level. “bent over the desk?”

he pumps his fingers in and out even faster, his thumb massaging your clit simultaneously. “maybe against the door so everyone can hear how hard you can take it.”

hongjoong moves his hand from your mouth and you swallow down air, trembling as your climax threatens to spill over. a whimper escapes you and he chuckles, flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin behind your ear in response.

“h-hongjoong,” you mumble between heavy breaths, “i’m gonna—”

“no, you’re not,” he scolds, suddenly slipping his hand out of you. “i think you can wait a little, right?”

“you’re a dick,” you groan, shoving yourself off of him in frustration.

he bites down on his bottom lip, stifling another laugh before he guides you over to his desk like he promised. just as you reach for him to pull him into a kiss, he flips you back around so that your chest is pressed to the wood. you gasp in a mix of disbelief and frustration at his patience, arching your back instinctively so that your skirt hiked further up your thighs.

“touch yourself,” he orders, but it comes out closer to a plea than a command. you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling behind you and another rush of pleasure trembles in your core. you oblige, your own fingers becoming slick with your wetness as you massage circles against your clit. the sensation coaxes another moan out of you as hongjoong holds his hand over yours, controlling the pressure while he frees his cock from his boxers.

he leans over you carefully, pressing tender kisses along your spine with every inch of him that sinks into you. the feeling of him filling you up sends your head spinning and you cry out in response. hongjoong grips your hips with an approving growl, moving in and out of you at a painfully slow pace.

“fucking get to it,” you snap, pushing your hips back against him in response. he scoffs and follows your lead, thrusting fast and deep into you with his fingers digging into your skin. every thrust earns a wanton cry from you as you scrape at the wooden surface, hard enough that you’re sure you left scratches in the lacquer.

hongjoong threads a hand through your hair, pulling you up just enough so that he can cup your breast under your shirt with the other. he flicks at your nipple and continues to thrust into you until you see stars.

“i need everybody in this fucking house to hear who makes you feel this good,” hongjoong snarls, shuddering when you clench around him bottoming out inside of you.

“you do," you whimper pathetically, allowing yourself to cave under the pleasure. hongjoong lands a sharp smack against your ass, the sting forcing a cry out of you.

he slips himself out of you, moving you over to the bed at the center of the room. your back hits the sheets and hongjoong wedges himself between your thighs. he hoists one of your legs over his shoulder, lowering himself onto his forearms so that he can finally capture your lips in a heated kiss.

more than getting fucked senseless by him—which was amazing, obviously—the feeling of his lips on yours was something you couldn’t have imagined. his thumb brushes against your cheek tenderly as he cups your cheek to hold you close. you can feel the way he savors it as much as you do, his thrusts slowing to give way for the moment.

of course, it’s short lived when you bite down on his lower lip and he moans into your mouth in response. he picks back up the pace and hammers into you. the sound of skin on skin sends you reeling as your climax creeps back up and jolts at your core. hongjoong senses this and angles himself even deeper, his lips still pressed to yours. he groans, fully in and out of you as you feel his tip nearly in your stomach. you moan in response to his praise and claw at his back hard enough to earn a hiss from him.

“you feel so fucking good,” you gasp, your fingers anchored onto his shoulders as you throw your head back onto the sheets. hongjoong grins, drunk off of fucking you as he presses a string of kisses from your neck to your chest. “i need to—ah—i need to come—”

“come for me, baby,” he coaxes, flicking at your clit as his pace begins to falter. you tremble under his touch and swallow down deep breaths as your orgasm threatens to spill over. it creeps in, closer and closer until your mind draws a blank and a broken cry slips out of you. pleasure rocks your body as every muscle twitches and contorts. as you come down from your high, hongjoong slows his pace just enough to not overstimulate you and buries his face in your neck.

you stroke his hair languidly as his hips begin to stagger against you, his muscles tensing as his breath grows hot against your skin.

“oh, fuck,” he whines, the sound music to your ears as you feel him come inside of you. he finally slows to a stop and fights to catch his breath, still buried in you when he cups your face to assess your reaction.

“you good?” he asks, working to steady his breath.

“yeah,” you reply, your own chest heaving in response. 

you can’t help but stare after hongjoong as he immediately snaps into his president role and searches the room for clean towels and a bottle of water for you. he sneaks downstairs for a moment, returning with a proud smile etched across his face and two drinks in hand.

“did no one ask you where you’ve been?” you ask, taking the solo cup only after you’d chugged the bottle of water.

“told ‘em there was something the panhellenic vp just had to discuss with me right this second,” he shrugs, taking a sip from his own cup. it must have been his first drink of the night. “she won’t stop bugging me, actually.”

“take it back!” you scold, tossing a pillow in his direction. he laughs, leaning over where you were sat at the edge of the bed to press another tender kiss to your lips. your heart skips a beat at the way he looks at you when he pulls away just enough to speak.

“i meant what i said, though.” hongjoong’s expression becomes serious. “i wasn’t just trying to get a quick fuck from you.”

“well, that’s reassuring,” you half-joke, patting his arm affectionately. “i’m surprised, but also … kinda not, to be honest. i mean, everyone knows you’re obsessed with me.”

“obsessed is a bit of a stretch,” he counters.

“really? i’d say it’s not far enough,” you tease, hongjoong arching a brow before he takes a long, silent look at you. it was as if he was in as much disbelief as you were that you’d actually finally crossed that line neither of you wanted to in the past. he lowers a hand to your thigh as he sits beside you, stroking it gently before taking another sip.

“you think anyone heard us?” you ask, tilting your head at the party that was still raging downstairs.

“i don’t know,” hongjoong answers, his expression flickering into something darker as he takes your drink and sets it aside with his. he cages you back under him, clearly in no mood to stop anytime soon. “and i don’t care.”

[jektaev]

ᴘ- ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛɪʀᴀᴍɪꜱᴜ

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓— my hands all over her throat.

smut‪‪ ❤︎‬ +18 ♯ unprotected sex. 𝐹 -reader. dom-reader. language. sub-bangchan. teasing. breeding kink.

Pathetic Bangchan. That thinks about you all day in the studio, for his birthday Changbin ended up getting him a little picture frame for his desk that holds a picture of you.

Pathetic Bangchan. Finally comes home after a late night of studio work, finding you asleep in a little to nothing silk sleeping gown that instantly made him hard.

Pathetic Bangchan. That jerks off next to you because he refuses to wake his pretty girl up from her beauty rest and just get off on his own. Free hand touching your thighs with possession yet gentle care to not wake you up.

Pathetic Bangchan. Fisting his thick cock into his veiny fist as he throws his head back slightly frustrated that it doesn't compare to you. Looking over to your dream state wanting to just cum all over your face.

Pathetic Bangchan. That wakes you up from all the noise he was making, whimpers and soft whines being left from his lips.

Pathetic Bangchan. That makes his pretty girl straddle his length and bounce on his lap after you offered so nicely if he needed help. His eyes never leaving the sight of his cock disappearing into your puffy folds.

Pathetic Bangchan. That begs you to keep going and that he's so, so close. Hoisting you up as he forms little crescents into your hips from how you've completely taken control. Looking up at you like you're holy, as his sloppy thrust meet your hips watching you praise him.

Pathetic Bangchan. That whimpers about letting him cum inside to give you a baby the both of you aren't ready for but sounds so good in the heat of the moment. "Please– f-f-fuck, i'll be so good, p-promise..." He pleads with his cock buried deep into your pussy now spilling his sperm into you without hesitation after you nodded yes.

✦ —jektaev 🐰ᵎᵎ

Tag list !! 🏷️ @mimiopla1 @skz43ver @g0matchi @abriefnirvana @yeonii08 @aiyanotfound @the-sea-called-history02 @certainstarfishmiracle @stormynight-240 @instabul @94luvieclub @bunny-2473 @yeeyeeilacktherapy-blog @itsdragonius @jisungmi @ncityswrld @kpop-kaos @kloversung @zosauce @hlanalovelee

[jektaev]

ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ.

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓— girl I want to see you with me all alone.

smut‪‪ ❤︎‬ +18 ♯ unprotected sex. 𝐹 -reader. bulge kink. language. cheating themes. teasing. breeding kink.

Being married is a beautiful experience, well... not when you're married to a "man" that you were high school sweethearts with—turning out to be a whole different person once the two of you became wedded. Now, Bangchan on the other hand, is quite the opposite. Of course it had to be his brother.

When you first met your husband's family it was nice, compliments here and there, but your brother-in-law, was a flirt. Not thinking to much of it because well of course that's his brother, you didn't mind it. One night you were over at your husband's family home. Glass of wine in hand with company, Bangchan. Too much wine causing your brain to fog up and accidentally telling him everything about how horrible his own blood related brother was.

A kiss was shared nothing wrong, right? Since it wasn't sober.

Every since that day, Bangchan was willing to hear you out on all the problems going on between you and his brother. He knows how stubborn his brother can be, and know hearing what you have to put up with? Oh no. Some sweet words and suddenly you're straddling his lap, legs on each side of his waist with his hands on your lower back.

Grinding against him like you haven't had good dick like this in years. His whimpers and groans being shut off by how quickly your lips attach to his. "Shh, you don't want your mom walking in on us fucking in the kids room now do we?" He chuckles into you as his tongue slides against yours only attracking more wet sounds from your saliva being swapped. "Ha- you feel amazing baby," Chan grits out as the sound of skin clapping fills the room. Flipping you to lay you on your back. "Best fucking pussy- let me show you... s-shit, how good I can fuck you, yeah?" Smiling against his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist.

You're hands trailing up under his polo light blue shirt as you feel his hardened abs, feeling on his broad chest makes him shiver and make his cock twitch inside you. Chan's hands the inside of your thighs to spread you wider, his knees getting rug burn from the kids carpet the two of you are fucking on.

"Forget about him, who's fucking you right now darling?" Chan's grip getting tighter in a possessive manner. You choke out a moan cutting yourself off immediately realizing you're husband and mother-in-law are currently in the next room. "What? Scared he'll see you like this?" Not even soon after he pounds harder into your pussy forcing you're tits to bounce from the force. His hands find your nipple—pinching down causing a huge whimper to leave your lips.

"Channie, c-channies fucking me so fuck'n good!" You shout out not caring just needing your so called brother-in-law, to continue to fuck you raw.

He watches his dick slip in and out of your dripping cunt, growling at how good you take him. Smirking at the fat of how long he had to prep you just for this moment. Yet he would do it over and over again. Watching your nose scrunched with pink tinted cheeks from how heated your body is. "Every since you walked in—ha—needed you, fucking myself questioning if you like it rough or soft," Now leaning down to kiss your jaw in a chest to chest position with your leg raised up to his shoulder.

Grinding into you with active movements now licking your neck. "But all you needed was a man to see what you like isn't that right." You're hands on his shoulders not sure if you should push or pull away, why does getting fucked by your husband's brother feel so fucking good?

Laughing like you're brain isn't fucked out you still feel like you should tease him. "So, so nasty... fucking yourself to a married woman," Fingers in his short blonde hair as his silver cross dangles from his neck hitting against your breast mixing the cold onto your heated skin. "You we're such a nerd in highschool now look at you, bigger then your older brother."

His hands turn greedy on your waist now trailing up to touch your stomach as he watches his bulge prominently pumping into you. "Bigger in the best things wouldn't you agree baby?" Chan says pressing down the bump on your stomach making you shudder and let a loud moan out.

"Awh, what happened to the cocky act?" He says smirking down feeling you clenching around him near your climax. Biting down on your lip so hard it might just draw blood. "S-Shut—up!" Feeling him thrust into you with his hips meeting yours making the clapping sounds prominent.

He sits up onto his knees now using both hands to separate your thighs as he pounds into you with full force. "Just be mine already baby, don't hide." Smirk on his face making you feel even more flushed then before.

"He doesn't fuck you like I do and you know it, he doesn't worship you like I do. Tell me your mine." And you do, you do exactly as he says because for once you might be to fucked out but you feel love for him just from simple conversation of making you feel heard. Usually you'd feel stupid for loving a man this easily but you can tell it's not one sided.

"You're milking me f-fuck... cum f'me, be so fucking good." Just with a few more thrust you squirt all over his cock and lower stomach. Forming a white ring at the base of his dick milking him—begging for him to fill you.

"Ah- yes, mhm sooo good, now let me fill this pretty pussy." He smirks without hesitation now pushing his sperm into your tight cunt that's practically begging to be stuffed full.

Chan leans down to rest his body ontop of yours not putting his full weight onto you. "Oh fuck, ha, you're—we're insane." Kissing your neck as he grinds to keep his cum inside you. "Why'd you have to seduce me so late channie," Pressing his face into your chest as he listenes to your heart beat, hands in his hair like a baby resting on his mother. "Hmm, this is nice. Can't we just stay like this." You giggle kissing his forehead. "Yeah and let your mom and brother find us comfortable in the kids room... naked... together? Yeah we're goners honey."

He smiles at the pet name already knowing he's slowly winning your heart over. "Just marry me baby, already calling me pet names? Call me dulushional but I think you just fell for me." Chan stated now looking up at you to rest his forehead on yours.

✦ —jektaev 🐰ᵎᵎ

Tag list !! 🏷️ @mimiopla1 @skz43ver @g0matchi @abriefnirvana @yeonii08 @aiyanotfound @the-sea-called-history02 @certainstarfishmiracle @stormynight-240 @instabul @94luvieclub @bunny-2473 @yeeyeeilacktherapy-blog @itsdragonius @jisungmi @ncityswrld @kpop-kaos @kloversung @zosauce @hlanalovelee @dina-10s-blog

[spellbitten]

#THINKING

about how Chris, ever so generously, lets Lix use his girlfriend as a stress reliever.

Warnings: M×F×M, NSFW, Threesome/Polygamy, oral (m. and f. rec)

Brand deals after brand deals....after brand deals. God, was Lix stressed about each and every shoot, piling up like dirty laundry. He barely even has time to relieve his stress from touching himself, leading him to feel pent up AND stressed. The most he can truly do is rub one out in the shower, and it's just not the same.

During recordings, Chris notices Lix's shoulders to seem heavier than usual, his eyebrows creasing, along with the mix of his dreary eyes. He didn't seem like he was getting much sleep either, much to Chris' chagrin. However, Chris has a brilliant preposition, and that might bring the light back to Lix's eyes.

"Lix, you wanna fuck y/n?" Chris blurts out. Felix chokes on his water, did he really have to ask that when I was taking a sip? "You can't be serious?" Felix asks, with doubt. However, upon glancing and Chris' expression, he knew that he wasn't kidding, in fact—there was a tent in his pants.

Chris didn't really have to ask you, you've made it clear that you're no stranger to feeling attracted to Lix. I mean...have you seen him?Chris knew that you would be overjoyed, so he decided to surprise you by calling him over for a game night + dinner. Which starts as usual, Chris cooking dinner with no shirt and an apron as a poor replacement. Lix rings the bell, and you open it and welcome him in. Your robe with faux fur lined edges dragging against the ground. "Wow y/n, you look gorgeous." Felix says as he gawks

"Thank you Lixie. You look...so good yourself." You say as you blush slightly. Felix shoots you a playful wink as he walks towards Chris, "don't you think you should put a shirt on? This is dangerous." And as usual, Chris flirts, "What? For me or for y/n?" He talks as he giggles.

You help Chris plate the dinner and wine for all three of you, and sit down to eat. But, you don't know what gets into you as you keep staring at Lix's lips while he eats, wondering how they'd feel if he was using them on—wait. An imaginary lightbulb turns on in your head, "Hey guys, wanna play seven minutes in heaven?" Chris interrupts.

How the hell?!

Chris suggests that the person who wins rock, paper, scissors gets to choose who they want to spend seven minutes in heaven with. That cheeky bastard....he always wins. To your lack of surprise, he wins again. That's why you're locked in a room with Lix, as he bites his puffy lips as an invitation. You don't know if it's the alcohol or just how gorgeous he is, but you gravitate toward him as if you need him.

Felix puts a gentle hand on the side of your face, as he slowly pulls you in for a kiss, and he intensifies the kiss the longer it continues. His hands groping over your chest as he lays you on his chest, hands traveling to your ass and thighs, squeezing, and groping. His lips travel to the side of your neck, as he groans into your skin from bucking his hips into yours. He's so hard under you, and it's driving you fucking insane.

Somehow, the seven minutes are over, and you both have desperately wanted each other so bad that you just dry humped and made out for the 7 whole minutes. Forgetting how little time you have, but the good thing is that Chris has been behind the door jerking himself off. The sound of one of his closest friends using his girlfriend for stress relief turning him on endlessly.

The door knob turns as Chris steps in, taking a look at how disheveled the two of you are. "I didn't say you two could stop." He says.

That's really all Lix needed to hear when he starts kissing you again, and pulling at your shirt's hem, as well as the zipper of those tight shorts you had on. Lix grinds into you from the back while he undoes your clasp and pulls your panties down, his hands gently wrapping around your throat. Chris starts feeling left out, so he kneels on the bed, in front of your face for you to suck him off. Felix wastes no time in spreading your cunt open so he can taste you a little bit, so he sits you on his face. "Mmmph, taste so fucking good angel. I could cum just from this." He rasps out.

You grind on his face while your mouth is stuffed full of Chris' cock, and you couldn't be happier—at least until Lix brings you close to finishing with his pretty lips, only to stop and bottom out into you. "L- lixie- please mmmph", you say between sucking, and gasping for air. Felix thrusts into you with such desperation that he knows it won't take him long to come undone, his thrusts erratic, deep and hard. Your ass clapping with each thrust, while he holds your hips with a bruising grip. Chris seeming to get closer and closer each time Felix thrusts and pushes your mouth deeper onto his cock. "Nnghh...y/n, you're so good f' me..yeah baby?"

You cum first, and Chris and Lix both cum shortly after from your moaning and spasming around them.

You really need to do this often.

[kpopblurblog]

when i’m gone, don’t even try to find me.

[9:08 pm] “has anybody seen yn?” felix inquires to large group of friends, “my texts aren’t going through to his phone.”

hyunjin shrugs, “last i saw him was this morning on his way to his history class.”

“his car wasn’t here when i came home from the gym though,” changbin supplies, arms crossing over his chest the way they did when he was thinking hard about something.

“did anybody see him on campus?” chan asks, his attention now drifting from his laptop to your whereabouts. his brows are knit together in worry, everyone knew you had been struggling lately. they saw it in the way you had started politely declining hang outs months ago and making yourself scarce in the apartment when you got home in the weeks that followed.

the chorus of ‘no’s that followed the eldest’s question worried them all and it showed on most of their faces. without a word, seungmin stood and wandered to the closed door of your bedroom. his knuckles rapped on the door three times like it always did, a whisper of your name being greeted by silence on the other side. seungmin looked back anxiously at the group before the doorknob was twisted, revealing your empty room. the rest of your friends entered your space, some more cautiously than others.

jeongin was the first to find your phone beneath your pillow, the screen stayed dark without a charge. “guys,” the youngest squeaked out, a sense of dread washing over his body though he tried not to show it, “he left his phone.”

“fuck,” one of the eight boys cursed, before charging for their shoes.

let me be, ‘cause i’ve been at it for so long.

[3:25 am] you loved the ocean - the sound of waves crashing gently on warm sandy shores while the breeze gently ruffled your clothes. unfortunately for you, the han river would have to do. you sat under one of the smaller bridges that crossed the usually lively banks of the river. but at 3 am, there was nobody. just you, your dark thoughts, and the even darker river currents.

the water in front of you beckoned you like a siren, whispering soothing words of oblivion and a break from your swirling thoughts. but you had no energy to follow through.

so, you sat on its grassy shores and stared, your hoodie doing nothing to ease the wintery wind seeping into your skin. you didn’t know what time it was, nor did you really care since looking at the time in moments when you needed to clear your head only seemed to clutter it more. the longer you sat, the better you’d feel when you got back to your friends.

your eyelids shut and you breathed in the cold air around you, the scent of petrichor from the sky above blocking out the enchanting smell of the river. you decided to focus on that instead of the thoughts in your head.

and it worked.

it worked so well that you didn’t hear the slapping of converse on the pavement behind you as they slowed. you didn’t feel the pair of eyes on your shivering figure. the soft glow of fingers typing across a phone screen goes undetected. the sound of crunching grass and leaves wandering up to you didn’t register either. nothing registered to you until you felt a pair of legs settle into the grass beside yours, minho’s arms wrapping around your waist from behind you as he burried his face into the crook of your neck while his chest heaved with spent energy.

your eyelids flickered open when the reality of your quiet disappearance replaced the empty feeling in your chest. your lips part to say something, but minho shushes you before you can. “it’s okay,” he comforts you in a whisper, “we know.”

those four words break you. hot tears warm the skin of your cheeks and sobs rattle through your ribs, your calloused palms are quick to cover your leaking eyes. minho calmly rocks you gently back and forth, moving you into his lap more so the call of the river takes less of your attention. the two of you stay like that for a while - him ignoring the frantic vibrations in his pocket and you getting out your emotions in a healthy way - before your sobs transform into half hearted hiccups. minho’s thumbs wipe away the remaining rivers on your cheeks.

“c’mon,” he whispers to you, voice low in a way that makes you feel safe, “it’s late.” there’s no breaks in his words, but minho is choosing his words very carefully in this moment. the fear of making you feel at fault in any way gripping his thoughts in an iron hold. your weak nod eases his mind for moment, hands helping one another off the river bank and back onto the pavement to start your long journey home. your pinkies are linked as the two of you walk, swaying gently to the rhythm of an unheard tune.

chan and jisung are standing anxiously beside your car. chan is pacing back and forth while jisung’s head is lowered between his thighs, hands wringing together to get some of his anxieties out above his head. hyunjin’s call has the two’s heads shooting up at break neck speed, the sun rise sillohetting yours and minho’s figures while you approach. jisung is the first to scramble towards you, body colliding hard with yours, broken whispers and sobs gently hitting your ears, “oh, thank god you’re okay…”

hyunjin is the next one to embrace the two of you, hands trying to get as much of you into his arms as he can. “you’re freezing,” he comments, voice breaking while he pulls his jacket around your sides. he’s unsure of what else to say without causing more damage to your already imbalanced brain. he knows your depressive episodes aren’t your choice and he’s trying his best to be understanding, but it’s hard for him to wrap his head around how someone so dazzling like you could listen to the evil impulses your mind supplies you.

chan approaches your small group next, fists clenched tight at his sides while dark eyes scan your figure for any signs of harm. he finds none when hyunjin pulls away and jisung’s grip moves from you to minho. your eyes meet chan’s and the aussie moves before he can even think. strong arms wrap around your waist, soft words of warning slipping past his plush lips, “don’t you ever pull a han jisung disappearance again… please.”

“i won’t,” you whisper weakly, voice scratchy from crying, “i promise…”

when i’m ready, i’ll be back. don’t worry.

[4ng3l-ch1ld]

one of the best skz male reader fics i’ve read like ever 🥹

[4ng3l-ch1ld]

i wanna be a kpop idol in a very obviously queer wanna be relationship but in a really heartbreaking yearning way like gtop or minsung (if you squint for the gut wrenching part)

like i want to be SO obviously in love with my group mate but never fully able to be open about them

i crave for some angsty shit written abt this

[vultbae]

long-shot ✰

mike wheeler x female reader blurb

part two

↳ summary: mike wheeler is a loser. big time loser. and he’s dating the cheer captain. the only problem is that they’ve kept it a secret long enough.

↳ warnings: characters are 18, making out, slight voyeurism, dry humping.

↳ notes: wrote this on my phone at the airport not too much on me.

word count: 2.5k

The Hawkins High gymnasium’s smell was awful. It smelled like a lethal mix of floor wax, sweat, stale popcorn, and enough Axe body spray to tear a new hole in the ozone layer. It was the night of the Senior Championship game—or in other words, the holy grail of high school social hierarchy—and the noise was absolutely deafening.

Mike Wheeler sat sandwiched between Will Byers and a very aggressive tuba player from the marching band, his knees pressing uncomfortably into the back of a freshman. He looked miserable. He felt like he was vibrating out of his skin. He wanted to punch someone.

"Statistically speaking," Dustin shouted over the thumping bass of We Will Rock You, spraying pretzel crumbs onto Lucas's shoulder, "this is a gross misappropriation of our time! Our teams’ defensive line has the structural integrity of a wet napkin. We could be running the Vecna's Revenge campaign right now. I had the map ready! But instead, we are watching grown men chase a ball."

"It's our last semester, Henderson!" Lucas yelled back, wiping pretzel dust off his jacket. He was wearing face paint that was already sweating off in the humidity. "It's called social integration. Try it sometime! We're seniors! For fuck’s sake!"

"I am well integrated!" Dustin gestured wildly to his Hellfire Club t-shirt. "I am a leader of men! I just don't see the appeal of—"

Will nudged Mike hard in the ribs. "You okay? You look like you're going to throw up."

Mike was staring fixedly at the sidelines, his face pale, gripping his knees so hard his knuckles were white. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "I'm fine, Will.” he squeaked. His voice cracked. He cleared his throat violently. "I'm great. Go Tigers. Yay sports."

Nobody knew.

It was the absurdity of the century. It was a glitch in the matrix. It was the best-kept secret in a town famous for government conspiracies and horrendous interdimensional monsters.

The secret had a name, and that name was Y/N, his sweet little girlfriend. 

It had started back in October, senior fall, on a rainy Tuesday that smelled of damp leaves and ozone. The AV Club room was Mike's sanctuary, the one place he could escape the pressures of senior year. He had been alone that afternoon, covered in black toner, cursing creatively at the large-format poster printer which had decided to jam for the third time that week.

He heard the door creak open. He expected Mr. Clarke. He expected Dustin.

He did not expect the Captain of the Hawkins High Cheer Squad.

Y/N had walked in, closing the door softly behind her. She wasn't wearing her uniform; she was in a soft, oversized cashmere sweater and jeans, looking like she had just stepped out of a catalog. Mike froze, his hands stained with ink, waiting for the usual mockery. He waited for her to ask where the "cool people" were, or to make fun of his D&D shirt.

Instead, she looked around the messy room with a sigh of relief. "Is it quiet in here?" she asked, her voice soft. "The library is full of freshmen."

"Uh," Mike had managed, eloquent as ever. "Yeah. Usually."

She held up a leather-bound notebook. "I just need somewhere to write. Journaling. I can’t do it with people behaving like animals."

She didn't leave. She sat on a desk, legs swinging, and watched him fight the printer. And then, shockingly, she helped. She rolled up her expensive sleeves, got ink on her perfect hands, and helped him dislodge the paper tray.

They spent three hours talking. And not the superficial stuff Mike expected. They talked about fears. About the crushing pressure of perfection. About how they both secretly thought Return of the Jedi was the weakest of the trilogy. Mike was a rambling, nervous mess, his hands shaking every time she looked at him with those big, intelligent eyes, but she just laughed—an overly warm, genuine sound that made his chest ache.

By the end of the day, the tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. The rain was hammering against the windows, sealing them in their own little world. Mike had been staring at her lips, paralyzed by his own insecurity, convinced he was misreading the signals. Because girls like Y/N didn't look at guys like Mike Wheeler. Not like that.

"You're going to pass out if you don't kiss me, Wheeler," she had whispered, leaning in close enough for him to smell her sweet, edible vanilla perfume.

Mike had stopped breathing. "I just... I didn't think..."

"Shut up," she had smiled.

She grabbed him by his shirt, yanked him down, and planted a kiss on him that effectively rebooted his operating system. It was soft at first, then hungry, and Mike had realized with a jolt that the coolest girl in school was actually trembling just as much as he was.

Now, six months later, they were keeping it secret. Mike insisted on it. He told himself it was to protect her.. Well, obviously, dating a very active member of the Hellfire Club wasn't exactly a status booster for a cheer captain. He didn't want to be the anchor that dragged her down the social ladder.

But tonight? Tonight, Y/N had other plans.

"I'm doing a toe-touch jump right at the 50-yard line," she had told him last night, her voice husky over the phone as he lay in bed staring at his ceiling. "And if you aren't there to see it, I'm, so seriously, breaking up with you. I'm tired of hiding, Mike. I want to show you off."

Show me off, Mike thought, feeling dizzy. She's fucking insane.

Back in the gym, the buzzer sounded for halftime. The lights dimmed, and the spotlight hit center court.

"Oh, look," Dustin groaned, rolling his eyes so hard it looked painful. "Pompoms. My favorite part of the evening. Wake me when the game starts again."

"Shut up, Henderson," Mike snapped, instantly alert. He sat up straighter, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

The music kicked in, something rhythmic and loud, vibrating through the bleachers. The squad moved in perfect synchronization, a sea of green and gold pleats and white sneakers. And there she was.

Y/N.

She was absolutely mesmerizing, as always, Mike thought. She flew through the air in a basket toss, soaring higher than anyone else, her ponytail whipping like a lash, her smile dazzling enough to blind the front row. She hit every beat with a sharpness that commanded attention. She looked powerful, beautiful, and completely, utterly out of his league.

Mike felt a surge of pride so intense it nearly choked him. That's my girl, he thought. His and only his. The words felt reckless and golden in his head. The girl everyone is staring at? She kisses me. She likes my nerdy ass rants. 

The routine ended in a pyramid formation. Y/N was at the very top, arms raised in a V, chest heaving, glitter catching the overhead lights. The crowd went feral. 

But Y/N didn't look at the crowd. She didn't look at the judges.

She turned her head and locked eyes with the specific section of the bleachers where the band geeks and the Hellfire Club sat.

She found Mike. Even from this distance, he felt the weight of her gaze. It was a look of pure, terrifying possession. A smile curled the corner of her lips; soft, intimate, and knowing.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she raised two fingers to her glittery lips and blew a kiss.

It was a direct hit.

The bleachers around them erupted in confusion.

"DID YOU SEE THAT?!" Lucas grabbed Dustin's arm, nearly dislocating it. "She looked right at me! Y/N just blew a kiss at me!"

"You're hallucinating, Sinclair!" Dustin scoffed, frantically smoothing his curly hair under his hat. "She was looking at the hat. Chicks dig the trucker hat energy. That was clearly for me! It was a signal!"

"In your dreams! Why would SHE blow a kiss at you?"

"Why would SHE blow a kiss at YOU!? You're wearing face paint like a damn toddler!"

"Guys," Will started, looking at Mike. "I think—"

But Mike didn't say a word. He couldn't. His face was burning so hot he thought he might spontaneously combust. He stood up abruptly, his metal chair clattering back loudly. He looked like he'd just seen a ghost, or maybe God.

"I have to go," Mike choked out. "Stomach. Bad pretzel. Need air."

He bolted before they could ask questions, scrambling down the bleachers, tripping over people's feet, fleeing the scene like a criminal.

Twenty minutes later, the game was dragging into the third quarter. The crowd was roaring, but the party was distracted.

"He's been gone a while," Will frowned, looking at the empty seat next to him.

"He's probably crying in the car because the noise was too loud," Lucas rolled his eyes, though he looked concerned. "Or he went to 7-Eleven for a slushie and didn't invite us."

"Let's go get him," Dustin decided, standing up. "This game is a blowout anyway, and I refuse to watch the Tigers lose by thirty points. Let's go."

The three boys trudged out into the cool night air, leaving the roaring, sweaty gym behind. The parking lot was a sea of metal, quiet and still under the buzzing streetlights. The distant sound of the announcer echoed eerily.

"There's his car," Dustin pointed to Mike's beat-up, beige sedan parked way in the back, under the shadow of a large oak tree. "I bet he's asleep. Grandpa Wheeler strikes again. Probably taking a nap."

As they got closer, weaving through the rows of trucks and vans, Lucas slowed down. He squinted.

"Hey... is it just me, or are the windows... wet?"

The car windows weren't just wet. They were opaque. Completely fogged up with heavy condensation, obscuring everything inside like that one scene from Titanic.

"Weird," Will murmured. "It's not that cold out."

Dustin marched up to the driver's side, a mischievous grin on his face. "Watch this. I'm gonna scare the soul out of his body." He raised his fist to bang on the glass.

Then, through a small clear streak in the condensation, his eyes adjusted to the interior.

Dustin's hand froze in mid-air. His mouth dropped open so wide a damn demogorgon could have crawled in and set up camp.

Inside the car, illuminated only by the warm, amber glow of the dashboard lights, was a scene that defied every law of the high school social universe.

Mike's seat was pushed all the way back. And Mike wasn't sleeping.

He was buried.

Y/N was straddling his lap, facing him. Her green and gold cheer skirt was hiked dangerously high, gathered at her waist, the pleats fanning out over Mike's denim-clad legs. Resting on the dashboard, next to a half-empty bottle of water, was a massive, expensive-looking bouquet of red roses with a card that screamed CONGRATS, LOVE <3 in bold marker.

But nobody was looking at the flowers.

Mike Wheeler, the lanky nerd who argued about dice rolls and refused to dance at prom, had his head thrown back against the headrest, his mouth devouring hers.

It wasn't a polite high school peck. It was feral.

Y/N had her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her fingers tangled deep in Mike's messy black curls, holding him in place as she ground her hips down into his lap. And Mike... Mike looked like a man starving. His hands were gripping her waist with a desperation that turned his knuckles white, his long fingers digging into the bare, soft skin of her thighs just below the hem of her skirt.

Y/N broke the kiss for a split second to gasp for air, a string of saliva connecting their lips, and Mike chased her immediately. He didn't let her pull away. He groaned something against her throat, a low, vibrating sound that was audible even through the glass, and buried his face in her neck.

He kissed the sensitive cord of her throat, open-mouthed and wet, his hand sliding up from her waist to palm the curve of her hip possessively, dragging her closer until there was zero space between them.

She whimpered, her head falling back, exposing her throat to him. She grabbed the collar of his Hellfire Club t-shirt, yanking on the fabric so hard the neck stretched. She bit his lower lip, hard, pulling it between her teeth, and Mike surged up to meet her, his other hand tangling in the back of her cheer uniform.

It was messy. It was frantic. It was the hottest thing any of them had ever seen, and it involved.. Mike. Jesus Christ! The Mike Wheeler. 

Lucas looked like he had been slapped in the face with a wet fish. Will looked like he wanted to dissolve into the pavement.

Dustin just stood there, his brain unable to process the data. Mike? With Y/N? Making out like they were trying to invent a new form of fusion energy?

The cognitive dissonance was too much.

Inside the car, Y/N shifted her weight, pressing down harder into Mike's lap, arching her back. Mike let out a rough sound and moved his hand higher, his thumb grazing the skin of her inner thigh, his face flushed, eyes squeezed shut in pure, agonizing bliss. He looked powerful. He looked like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Dustin couldn't take it anymore. The universe was collapsing.

He didn't tap politely. He banged on the window with the force of a SWAT team.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

The reaction inside was explosive.

Y/N shrieked, a high-pitched sound of terror, scrambling backward and hitting her head on the rearview mirror. Mike practically jumped out of his skin, his limbs flailing as he tried to cover Y/N and locate his own dignity at the same time. His elbow hit the dome light, flooding the car with unforgiving brightness.

Mike whipped his head toward the window.

He looked wrecked. His black hair was standing up in every direction. His lips were swollen, red, and slick. His t-shirt was twisted. And on his neck, blooming in vibrant high-definition, was a fresh, purple hickey right above his collarbone.

He looked at Dustin with eyes the size of dinner plate; terror, shame, and fury all mixing together.

Dustin stood there, illuminated by the sudden flash of the interior light. He looked at the disheveled cheerleader trying to smooth her skirt down over her hips. He looked at the giant bouquet of love roses. He looked at Mike, whose hand was still instinctively resting on the thigh of the most popular girl in school.

Dustin threw his hands up, gesturing to the entire tableau, his voice rising to a screech that echoed across the parking lot.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?!"

[ysljoon]

Moon & Stars | Jisung

♡pairing: han jisung x reader

♡wc: 1.4k

♡genre: smut, non-idol au

♡ warnings: dead dove do not eat!!, stepbrother!han, pervert!han, dubcon (bordering on noncon), fingering (f recieving), pussy eating, panty stealing, somnophilia, dacryphilia, coercion, tit groping/tit play

♡summary: han doesn't know how to cope with his delusions about his step sister. instead of repressing his thoughts and feelings he feels it would be better to act on them.

♡taglist: @meme2003 @atetheluck @pinknymphkisses @manonlover @lezleeferguson-120 @urfavvbilliemunch @geni-627 @stayville-citizen @life-is-a-game-of-thrones (taglist form HERE)

MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

Jisung knew in every fiber of his being that the thoughts he was having were wrong. He should never be having thoughts as lewd and as explicit as he is about you. You were his stepsister, and those boundaries should never be crossed, but Jisung couldn’t help himself. You were so pretty, and he felt that no college boy could ever treat you as well as he does. He’s older, has experience, and knows you in and out. What else could you need, really? 

When you first moved in with Jisung, he never even looked at you outside of his sister, but once you got into your sophomore year of college, things changed. You broke out of your shell and started going out more. The outfits you wore to go party out with your friends became tighter and skimpier. The makeup you wore became darker and was sultry. You became really hard to ignore when you brought home a guy at 3 in the morning, and all Jisung could hear through the walls were your whines and whimpers as the random you brought grunted hard as he fucked you. That night Jisung couldn’t help but stroke his cock while eavesdropping on the two of you when you sounded that pretty. He squeezed his eyes tightly as his hand gripped his cock, stroking it fervently as he imagined himself being the one to pleasure you. Jisung fantasized about how tight you would feel around him and how you would look as you came while he dumped his load inside of you. He wanted to ruin your cunt so that you would never seek anyone else out but him. 

The comedown after Jisung shamefully came all over the palm of his hands hit him like a freight train. He felt disgusting fantasizing about you like that, but he didn’t want to stop. Jisung spiraled that night and spent hours browsing online forums about what it means to fantasize about your step-sister till the sun rose. He found no solace in what the internet told him. He tried to keep his distance from you to try and halt the perverse feelings he was growing towards you, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Once you came home from classes, you always knocked on his door and told him about your day and what upcoming exams were stressing you out or even the parties you were planning to hit up when the weekend came around. Jisung sat there trying to listen to your ramblings, but his eyes couldn’t help but lock onto your pouty lips that were shiny from your lip gloss. His eyes moved down from your lips down to the way your breasts were sitting so perfectly in your shirt. Jisung was quick to close his eyes and massage his temples to refocus his attention back to your words.

At night your favorite routine after you washed your hair was to sit with Jisung on the couch and have him brush and detangle your hair. You even taught him how to put your hair in a braid so whenever you were feeling too lazy or tired, he could be of service to you. That night Jisung was sitting on the couch while you were slotted between his legs on the floor while you watched a random movie to pass the time. Jisung was delicate when he brushed your hair, and your eyes were starting to grow heavier and heavier as the time passed. By the time Jisung finished braiding your hair, you were knocked out against his knee. Jisung whimpered to himself, not knowing what to do with himself and the growing boner he was getting the longer he ogled at your sleeping form. All he could imagine was how warm your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock as you slept peacefully with your mouth open, causing drool to slip down the corner of your lips. He wondered if you would cry as he forced his cock deep into your throat and made you gag. Jisung started to feel lightheaded with these thoughts swirling in his head. He lightly tapped you, telling you he was going to bed, and ran to his room before you could see his boner. You were barely conscious of what he said before you trudged to your room and resumed your blissful sleep.

Jisung’s desires started to become more extreme as time went on. He pushed all inhibitions aside and embraced himself as the pervert stepbrother he was. He would sneak into your room when you were either sleeping or out at classes and steal panties that were left in your hamper. He would lock himself in his room and sniff your panties till his eyes were rolling into the back of his head. He would wrap the soft cotton of your panties around his hard length and jerk himself off to overstimulation till sweat was beading on his forehead from how spent he was. His moans and whimpers were so pathetic, but he couldn't control himself when it came to you. Late into the night Jisung would slyly come into your room and stare at you sleeping and jerk himself off, fantasizing of fucking you while you were asleep. He would cum all over his hand quietly and would slink off back into his room once he was done like nothing had happened.

Jisung’s breaking point had no set reason. He just couldn’t stand the thought of you being so out of reach while being so close to him. Tonight he came into your bedroom like any other night, but instead of hiding in a dark corner while rubbing his dick raw, he felt emboldened enough to crawl into bed with you. He held his breath as he slowly made his way into your bed and kept checking to see if your breathing had changed at all. He slowly rolled over and gingerly placed one of his hands and cupped your tits. Jisung could’ve come in his pants right then and there. Feeling how soft your tits were in his large hands made all the blood rush from his brain to his cock. He gave it a light squeeze and proceeded to graze his thumb over your nipple. You shivered in your sleep but still didn’t rouse awake. Jisung slipped his pajama shorts off so he was down to his boxers and rubbed his erection against your ass. He tried to keep his cool and not be too rough, but precum was soaking through his underwear, and he was starting to get needy. He started to grope your tits harder and pinch your nipples, wanting to get a reaction from you. You mewled in your sleep, and you rubbed your thighs together.

Jisung’s hands deftly moved lower to your panties and slid them down with ease, taking a mental note of how they clung to your core from how wet you were. He was giddy knowing that he had this effect on you. He crawled deep under your sheets and threw all his caution to the wind. He stuffed two of his fingers into your tight hole and sucked on your clit. You groggily moaned and squealed after realizing what was happening. “Jisung? What the fuck are you doing?” You stared wide-eyed and pushed your comforter back, revealing Jisung’s head enveloped between your thighs. You tried to squeeze your thighs together to try and stop him, but he just forced them back open. “B-baby, you taste so good I couldn’t help myself. Can’t believe you’ve been keeping this delicious cunt from me.” Jisung babbled on and on while slurping up all your juices that leaked out of you.

“Ji, this is wrong. You shouldn't be doing this, and you shouldn't be in my room.” Your argument was weak as your words became breathier and your fingers grasped his hair the closer you came to cumming. Your thighs shook as you orgasmed against Jisung’s lips, and he continued to lap you up like a starved man. He emerged from between your thighs with his eyes shining and his lips listening in your essence. He could die a happy man just from this, but he’s greedy in the worst way. “Let me fuck you, pretty girl. That’s all I want.”

[4ng3l-ch1ld]

i LOVEEEEE i LOVEEEE LOVEEE LOVE!! me a good dead dove do not eat fic HOO bessie

[cherriwoo]

LET ME TOUCH IT, LET ME TASTE IT

pairing… perv!ot6 piwon x fem!reader

genre… smut (MDNI)

synopsis… perv p1harmony headcanons!

content warnings… pervy behavior, obvi. spanking mention (keeho). groping (keeho and theo). titplay (theo). masturbation (m., jiung and intak) voice kink (is that what it’s called? idk but this is also for jiung). panty stealing (intak). lowkey subby intak (yay!). crying (intak). voyeuristic thoughts/tendencies (soul). soul also fantasizes about getting you naked so that’s fun. praise kink (jongseob). seob also touches himself but not like technically masturbating just fyi.

wc… 1.6K

a letter from dove!… a delicious request thank you anon

KEEHO ꜜ

100% an ass man. biggest ass lover in the world—specifically your ass. tight pants? shorts? tiny skirts? he’s a fan of everything. he’s not picky at all, as long as he gets a nice, good view of you bending over. can definitely see him being that guy who does that thing where he grabs your waist when he’s trying to get past you but it’s only so that he can press himself against your ass for a second or two. sometimes has dreams about what it’d be like to spank you and if you’d be into it or not. ꜜ

keeho probably thinks he’s being subtle, but you can tell he’s been staring at you from across the room for the past few minutes now. it looks like he’s deep in thought about something, but you don’t have the slightest clue as to what it could be.

“can you come over here? please?” he finally asks, breaking the silence as he beckons you over. you’re confused, and a little hesitant, but you still find yourself getting up and moving over to him.

you’re standing right in front of him, but that look on his face is still there. that look of frustration, the one he’d only get when he couldn’t put his feelings into words.

“keeho, what—”

he doesn’t let you finish that sentence, his patience was already wearing thin seeing you prance around in those jeans all damn day. in the blink of an eye, you’re in his lap, chest to chest.

“finally,” he breathes out, leaning his head against the back of the couch. his hands find their way to your ass so naturally, like he’s been anticipating this very moment forever—and he has, not that you’d know. “fuck, this feels just as good as i always knew it would…”

more below the cut! ꜜ

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THEO ꜜ

keeho’s polar opposite. lover of all things involving your chest. he wants to grab and lick and kiss and suck you, to know what your nipples feel like, if they’re sensitive, if you like having them played with. he loves it whenever you wear tight shirts, but he also loves it when you wear a shirt with no bra underneath. pretends he’s not staring but he’s so obvious all the time that you’ve just gotten used to it. ꜜ

you jolt, nearly dropping the glass in your hands as you feel someone creep up behind you, but you relax the second theo opens his mouth to reassure you it’s just him.

“dumbass,” you grumble. “you scared the hell out of me.”

he laughs softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “sorry. didn’t mean it.”

“yeah, whatever. move already, i’m thirsty.”

he doesn’t move. not out of your way, anyway. instead, he presses his body closer to yours, pinning you to the counter. his hands, which had been stationary on your hips, push up past the hem of your shirt and slowly creep higher. his fingertips trace against the underside of your breasts, and you feel him sigh softly against your skin.

“i love it whenever you don’t wear a bra, you know,” he says, voice so quiet like it’s some sacred secret he wasn’t even supposed to share with you. “so perfect. been wanting this for a while…”

tired of denying himself, he cups your boobs in his hands, softly pinching your nipples, soaking in the breathy sigh you let out in response—he could get used to this.

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JIUNG ꜜ

the second most pathetic tbh. he’s just down bad for you in general but his favorite thing about you by far is your voice. like it’s embarrassing how hard he gets listening to you. sometimes he can’t even pay attention to what you’re saying because he’s focusing too much on not popping a boner right in front of you. he always calls you at night because he likes the way you sound when you’re kind of tired and may or may not be jerking off the whole time… he’ll never tell. ꜜ

“so then i got all wet and rained on because i forgot my umbrella. but it’s not my fault, it wasn’t supposed to rain until tomorrow, y’know?”

at this point, whatever you’re talking about is getting filtered out by jiung’s brain, and the only part he’s registering is how you sound. all quiet and tired, not to mention annoyed because of whatever inconvenience happened to you that he is definitely aware of. maybe. “ah… mhm, yeah. that sounds… fuck—that sounds awful. and then what happened?”

you pause your rambling, pulling the phone away from your ear for a moment before bringing it back. “…are you okay?”

shit. you’re onto him.

“yeah. ‘course i am. why… mmm… why wouldn’t i be?”

“are you not hearing yourself right now, jiung?”

he huffs, his irritation at not being able to get off overpowering the embarrassment of you getting closer to catching onto him. “i’m fine! just keep talking. i told you i’m listening!” he doesn’t mean to sound so rude, but he can’t keep holding himself back anymore. if he doesn’t cum right now, he thinks he might just lose it.

“…fine, bossy. anyway, like i was saying—”

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INTAK ꜜ

he’s a panty stealer. and sniffer. and licker. like you can’t tell me he doesn’t get off on the risk and the adrenaline rush it gives him. it’s so wrong and dirty, and he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to stop. he always brings them back with the exception of the ones he knows you wear the most and therefore smell the most like you. the most pathetic puppy ever. ꜜ

this is the fourth time this week. the fourth time intak stole a pair of your panties. the fourth time he’s holed himself up in his room, touching himself while he thinks about you wearing them. and he knows it won’t be the last.

“i’m sorry…” he mumbles out to no one in particular as his hand moves up and down his aching, over-sensitive cock. it hurts, he’s sticky, and tired, but he can’t bring himself to stop just yet. he needs to make the most out of this before he returns them in exchange for another pair. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry… i’m a bad boy…”

in his other hand, he holds the flimsy, lacy fabric tightly, too afraid to loosen his grip for even a second. he brings it up to his face, taking a deep, shuddering inhale before his tongue darts out to lick it.

he can feel his orgasm building up again, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as he nears the edge once again. but will he stop? no, of course not. not until the guilt evaporates and he’s milked completely dry.

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SOUL ꜜ

soul has great timing. great for him, awful for you. you can’t even count the amount of times he’s walked in on you in all sorts of compromising situations. when you’re fresh out of the shower and still wrapped up in a towel, or when you’re changing clothes… basically any time you’d be wearing little to nothing. he apologizes every time, and yet it keeps happening. so weird… ꜜ

shota presses his ear to the wall, listening to the sounds of the running water. you’re still in the shower, and it’s doing nothing good for his imagination. he can only wonder what you look like in there, washing yourself, rubbing the soap all over your naked body, the water running over every nook and cranny…

the second the sound comes to a stop, he backs away from the wall, lingering in place for a moment before opening the door, just in time to see your face as your expression goes from surprised to half-hearted irritation.

“shota!” you groan, pulling your towel tighter around your body. it’s supposed to act as a shield, but it’s only giving him a better outline of your figure. “can’t you at least wait until i’m out of the bathroom to barge in?”

he giggles, and the sound alone is enough to absolve him from all your annoyance.

“sorry.” he says it simply out of courtesy, not because he actually feels sorry. how could he, when you look so good like this? still dripping wet, the only barrier keeping him from seeing what you look like completely exposed being a towel? and it’d be so easy, wouldn’t it? to just snatch it away, and see for himself.

but he won’t. not yet. not today. he thinks he’ll fantasize a bit more before goes through with the real thing.

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JONGSEOB ꜜ

he gets so worked up whenever you’re nice to him and give him compliments. like ever since he said he wanted to explore a more feminine style and grew his hair out he really likes hearing that you think he looks pretty or that his outfit is cute. feels so dirty because you’re genuinely just being sweet and he’s getting hard… poor thing. ꜜ

“you know, i’m kind of glad you dyed your hair blond again.” you mumble, absentmindedly carding your fingers through jongseob’s hair. “i always thought it suited you. especially now that you’re letting it get long. you look pretty.”

jongseob can’t fight the shiver that wracks his spine at that word.

pretty. you thought he looked pretty.

something so simple shouldn’t be having this big of an effect on him, and yet he can already feel that familiar fire in his gut, threatening to spread and consume him whole.

he manages a smile, small and strained, and hopes you don’t notice how much he’s shifting around in your bed, trying to hide his growing erection. “thanks…”

you smile back, mumbling something back in response. jongseob doesn’t manage to catch all of it, just the ending.

“pretty boy.”

that does it.

he scrambles off of the bed like a frightened animal, much to your shock. “seob? where are you going?!”

“just, um… bathroom!” he yells back, followed by the sound of the door slamming shut. leaning against the door, he exhales, reaching down to palm his bulge. his gaze travels over to the mirror, reflecting his own flushed face and heaving chest.

“pretty,” he whispers. “so, so pretty.”

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[4ng3l-ch1ld]

nom nom nom this shit delectable nom nom i’m eating for weeks nom nom nom tastiest meal in a while nom nom

[hallofskz]

HALL OF SKZ is A library dedicated to supporting writers of stayblr. Simply, a collection of stories and tales to read and enjoy before bed.

A LIBRARY OF UNIVERSES📚──────

Series Drabbles Scenarios One Shots Headcannons Social Media au!/Fake Texts

MEMBERS 📁 ────── Bang Chan Lee Minho Seo Changbin Hwang Hyunjin Han Jisung Lee Felix Kim Seungmin Yang Jeongin OT8 / Hyung Line / Maknae Line

Tracking #hallofskz Tags

These works do not belong to me. Please Support Original Writers!

[4ng3l-ch1ld]

holy shit peak of peak over here like ts is perfect hello??

[unogellii]

My Peace, My Solace

ﾟ+.ﾟ"When I start to tumble from the sky, you remind me how to fly,"—"lately I've been feeling not alive, but you bring me back to life."

Sypnosis: Recharging with P1harmony after a crazy schedule!

Pair: P1harmony x Male! 7th member! READER

Warnings: Not much, mentions of honorifics; hyung, the use of [name] and maknae, as usual, the relationship can be considered platonic or romantic <33

A/N: thank you for the likesss, sorry it took me this long to post again and im sorry if its short TT i really just wanted to drop this because ive seen how hard our boys are working, and i js hope that they have moments similar to this fic irl ykkk?? I love piwon sm, i feel bad for stanning too latee

☆

Constantly dozing off wasn't particularly rare between the members.

Everyone was putting a hundred and ten percent in the promotions, attending a bunch of shows, interviews and doing covers for magazines this comeback. It's been like that ever since debut, but with this certain comeback, everyone was grinded to the bone. You couldn't rest for more than just a few minutes, couldn't sleep for a minimum of two hours before you have to get up and running—you were all overworked, and right now, no one was blaming you for falling asleep on the practice room after a hectic schedule.

You were sprawled out on the floorboards, head lolled to the side as you quietly snoozed with sweat glistening on your limbs and forehead.

Soul was right next to you, head resting on one of your extended arm as he curled up like a ball. Everyone else either sat on a chair or was leaning against the wall. Heavy silence dawned over the room, and no one dared to break the peace it somehow offered. You all just finished multiple rounds of practice, only getting a total sum of twenty minutes for resting. It's late in the evening, and finally, everyone was permitted to leave. But no one does, not really.

After catching his breath, Intak went up to you and Soul on the floor, plopping on your other arm with a grunt. He mimicked the other boy's pose, curling up to your side as you lay there, still peacefully asleep on the cold floor. Shuffling feet then scurry closer to the three of you, Keeho was approaching the forming group with a small grin, "scoot over," he kneeled down, slipping in between you and Intak.

He wrapped an arm around your middle, feeling Intak throw a leg over his own behind him. Theo was surprisingly next to lay down. He settled in next to Soul, crossing his arms and bending his leg upwards until his knees hit the younger boy's back.

"Oh, we're seriously doing this?" Jongseob watched as Jiung became the next one to drop right on top of you, earning him a soft grunt from your lips. "Come onnn, we won't be complete without our maknae," Keeho lifted his head, removing his arm, that was previously around you, to rest them on Jiung's back instead. Jongseob, despite rolling his eyes at his hyung's insistence, walked on over with a held back grin on his face. He took the spot above you, resting his head on the floor before he pressed your own head against his.

Everyone stayed like that for a long second.

Even as the cameras zoomed in to film this wholesome moment, not a single one of you moved to stand up and leave.

When you woke up from your short nap, you noticed the lights were all out now and that there were blankets around you. Wait no...these aren't blankets! You huffed slightly, feeling someone on top of you and a few others on both sides of your arm.

The staff had turned out all the lights and quietly exited the room after clipping the moment, leaving everyone resting on the floor since it was very well-deserved. Although you were serving as a warm, human pillow for your members right now, you couldn't find it in yourself to move and disturb their sleep. Afraid to accidentally wake them up, you found yourself closing your eyes, listening to their snores and the mechanical humming of the air conditioner to lull yourself back to sleep.