#double dare 2019

[glittertimes]

It’s been 4 years and I’m still not over Entertainment (2019)

[taniushka12]

im a simple guy i think about my otp giddily thinking abt ruining the person they hate's life and also maybe killing em and i heehehohohheoheueohhhgkhdkfghgfhsdf

[atozfic]

splish splash.

pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.

it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.

take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.

and then there is you.

you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.

the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.

if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.

“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”

“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”

it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.

“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”

truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.

this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.

“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.

“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”

are you and san close?

that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.

but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.

so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?

that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.

a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.

the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.

or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.

he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.

“i should-”

“i missed-”

you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.

sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.

“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”

“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”

it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.

“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”

“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance. 

the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.

their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.

you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.

san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.

your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”

“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.

“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”

you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.

“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”

“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”

“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”

“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”

“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”

mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.

what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.

“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”

forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.

each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.

a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.

“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”

it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.

but his eyes burn you more.

they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”

it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.

the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.

you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.

“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”

if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.

“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.

there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?

you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall. 

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.

his giggle.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”

“again, no.”

“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”

this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.

“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”

“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.

reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.

your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.

in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.

“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”

“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”

“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”

you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.

“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.

“god, you’re so desperate!”

“for you? always.”

the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.

he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.

“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.

“would you stop?”

“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.

“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”

and, who are you to deny the man?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it. 

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”

san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.

he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.

well, at least not from you.

at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.

“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”

never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.

the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.

there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.

one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.

he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.

“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.

“not at all.”

san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.

“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.

a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.

“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”

out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.

the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.

“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”

“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”

“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.

you give no answer.

“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”

if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.

you’d be found guilty.

“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”

the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.

“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”

at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.

he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.

san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it. 

with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.

the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.

only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.

“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”

“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.

you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.

and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.

“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”

words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.

you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.

he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.

“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.

“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”

“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.

jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.

“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”

there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.

the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.

“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”

“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”

“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.

instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.

fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.

never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.

officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.

instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.

the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit. 

“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”

“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”

the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..

“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”

“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”

“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”

“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”

“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”

“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”

you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.

the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.

not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.

doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.

all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.

he’s a sight worth paying for. 

“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.

“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”

“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.

“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”

wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.

“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”

control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.

satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.

“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”

under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.

so, you do. 

“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”

“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. “i’m pathetic.”

“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”

the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.

“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”

the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.

you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.

“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”

the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.

“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.

a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.

like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.

the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.

“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.

he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.

“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.

none of it works.

“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”

the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.

then, your knees meet the floor.

park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.

what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?

“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.

there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.

when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.

maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.

maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.

whatever it is, it’s turning you on.

your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.

everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.

unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.

he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.

“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.

you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.

there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.

“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.

you nod your head.

his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.

“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”

the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs. 

you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.

but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.

his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.

you need no verbal instructions this time around.

a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.

the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.

with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.

“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”

doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”

heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.

the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.

“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.

“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”

silence.

it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.

why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.

almost, but not quite.

“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”

“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”

“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.

how had you gotten here?

you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.

strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”

there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.

the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.

happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.

instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.

a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.

tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest. 

another deep breath, another inch.

for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.

all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.

hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.

he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.

he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”

“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.

“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.”

if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.

you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.

but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.  

“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”

good’s not good enough.

you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.

so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.

eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.

your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.

“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”

“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.

only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.

he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear. 

only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.

the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.

lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.

the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.

“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”

he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.

yunho grants you no such pleasure.

instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.

“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.

“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”

you think you nod.

it’s hard to tell.

sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.

his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.

“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”

god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.

swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.

by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.

“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”

“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”

“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”

give you it, he does.

three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.

the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.

a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.

“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”

with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.

then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.

with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”

“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.

park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.

that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.

his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.

his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.

you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.

but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.

the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.

the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.

“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”

a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.

he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.

“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”

for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.

they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.

and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-

it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.

what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?

hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?

a hand touches your cheek.

soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.

“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.

“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.

san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.

you.

“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.

his giggle echoes.

“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”

within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.

no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.

control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.

it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.

“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”

the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.

wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.

san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”

you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”

maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.

“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!

the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.

it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.

“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”

a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.

“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”

through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.

a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.

your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.

“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.

the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.

the unbuckling of a belt.

an unzipping of trousers.

trousers bunched down muscled thighs.

the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.

but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear? 

this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?

and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?

taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?

the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.

it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.

“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”

it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”

like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.

fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.

“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.

a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you. 

“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”

you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.

barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.

there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.

one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.

you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.

for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.

there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.

instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there. 

nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.

four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.

your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.

the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.

“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.

“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.

he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze. 

he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.

and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.

one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.

you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.

“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.

neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.

when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.

“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”

too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.

“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.

“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”

it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.

“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”

the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.

you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.

“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.

“really?”

“really.”

“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”

a slap echoes in the showers.

“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”

[venusorbits]

DOUBLE TAKE | CHAPTER ONE

pairing ; cho gue sung ( 조규성 ) x female! supermodel! british-asian! reader

summary ; You have been invited once again to the Korean TV programme 'I Live Alone' alongside the World Cup Heartthrob, Cho Gue Sung ( 조규성 ). Simple guests, who had to take double takes from each other, who could have seen it coming? No one was. Certainly, neither were the both of you.

genre ; romance, fluff, established relationship ( by second chapter cause i hate writing slow burn, i like reading them though ), angst.

masterlist

❝if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse 'cause you're gorgeous it actually hurts.❞

You began your stardom career at the mere age of 17 years after an agent saw your photos posted through social media. The said photo was the cause of the tumbling domino effect, igniting and bursting into bold bright orange flames, into dipping your toes into the window of opportunity and universe of high fashion, colourful red carpets and long hallways of runways.

You were on your own. You were no kid, anymore. You’re moving onto big girl things like moving to the big city; flashing lights, fast-paced times, overwhelming anxiety-filled environment, big mysteries and savouring new moments. Tom Ford, catapulted your career further way beyond the horizon.

Chest squeezing. Heart thumping. Bright lights. Everyone’s attention turned to you— the clicks of their cameras. Gaze is fixed on the end of the runway. Conscious of your steps. God, you felt awkward. With the slight rock and sway of your hips, this movement didn’t come naturally as the other models did. You felt tiny. How were you supposed to showcase the intricately designed clothing when they might be snickering about how you walk?

A fellow model reassured you, ‘There was no such thing as perfection when you’ve only begun..’

Fake it till you make it they say. Well, years have passed at the age of 22, and you are now one of the most recognisable faces in the industry. You’ve walked for many runways on endless fashion weeks, been on the cover of Vogue, Elle, Harpers Bazaar, the face of Versace, representative of Swarovski and many more. Some even dare say, up and coming It Girl. You’ve accomplished a lot, all on your own.

Though, one unexpected thing came into your life, living in Seoul, South Korea. The thought never crossed your mind once. But you came to South Korea for a photo shoot with Vogue Korea back in 2019. Needless to say, you fell in love with the culture, the country’s generous and kind residents, the language, the atmosphere and — Well, obviously, the city itself. You have dedicated learning the language and culture in order to live smoothly and in harmony.

It was difficult having to fly out to New York thousands of miles away, the epicentre of jobs and Fashion Week. But, what can you say? You were used to it. Hopping onto planes needing to be somewhere by Friday? Oh, London Fashion week ends on this day but, Paris starts that day. No worries. It was painfully exhausting but that’s the life of a Supermodel.

Your life in Seoul didn’t change much. Though this time you’re receiving twice the jobs than you did before, many Korean designers have reached out to you to model for the clothing they have designed such as Rok Hwang, Eudon Choi, the duo Byungmun Seo and Jina Um and finally, Youngae Lee and Happly for their project ‘Hanbok Wave’. Not only were you attracting attention in the fashion industry but it extended to the entertainment industry, you’ve been invited to many varieties of shows to be featured in.

As your schedule began to fizzle down, you found the time to film for the TV programme you were featured in ‘I live Alone’. Dressed all chic and feminine, opting for the chunky loafers with a pair of long white socks instead of your Versace heels. Your hair is all done so beautifully. Smiling so brightly at all the familiar faces and jogging up to them for a quick embrace. A light chatter followed along with it, ‘how are you?’, ‘I’ve been doing well’, ‘It’s nice to see you again’. Strings of compliments flowed through.

“안녕하세요. I’m (First name).” You greet the man. Undeniably gorgeous, you couldn’t even focus much on what he was saying as he reaches in for a handshake, he introduces himself as— 

“안녕하세요, 조규성.” The beautiful angel marks dotted all over his face like starry stars across the wide peaceful sky. But, goddamn, he’s so bright like the sun and his beauty is also so blinding it hurts. His beautiful carved nose and the sharp angles of his jaw, high prominent cheekbones. Everything about him was a piece of art. He’s a delicate and classic painting deserving to be in a museum.

Heartbeat was skipping across the street. 

Filming starts at any second now and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The soft fluffy brush glides across your face for the final touch-ups. Unbeknownst to you, Gue Sung also had to take a double take also stealing sweet glimpses, you had an addicting kind of beauty. It was much more than a drug. The kind of one that makes Aphrodite green as envy and red as rage. Eyes trail to every detail of your face. The way your eyes brighten as you joke lightly with your makeup artist.

“Please everyone get ready! Filming will start in 10!”

That was months ago. Time flies quickly; your home became littered with traces of him. He was everywhere you looked, in every corner, you breathed him. Gue Sung has now integrated well and was a part of your being. You have made space in your extensive closet just for him, he has his very own mug for his coffee in the morning, framed photo of you together on your bedside table, his own toothbrush and his very own corner for all the things he leaves.

Those months spent together have nothing been but elated, fondness and love. You have never been this happy, your whole entire life, you have never expected for him to come into your life at such an unexpected time. But, you thank God every day.

The sound of the familiar beeps and the sound of the front door opening echoed in your small apartment. 

“자기야, I’m home!”

Immediately, you tossed your phone aside, jumped off the sofa and came barreling. Gue Sung was kicking off his shoes as he slips his face mask off, he puts his bag down and his arm stretched out wide open. No hesitation, you crashed right into his warm loving embrace.

“Hi.” You mumbled nuzzling your face into the side of his neck and inhaling his scent. He awkwardly shuffles with you still practically glued onto him and clung onto him like a koala bear, Gue Sung peppers your temples and hairline with kisses. Running his hands up and down your back. You only snuggled further onto his neck tightening your grip around his large frame.

“Did you miss me?” He whispers softly voice dripping in honey, you pull away enough so, you could stare deeply into his eyes, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Gue Sung couldn’t resist but placed a quick kiss on your lips.

“Not even a little bit.” You tease, poking your tongue out at him playfully.

“Oh? I know you did. You can’t even think about not having me by your side that’s why you asked for my number when we first met.” Not exactly a lie but, not exactly the complete truth either. You gasped dramatically,

“I don’t appreciate you lying about my name like that.”

Gue Sung hums. 

“Did you eat yet?” You asked.

“No. I knew you were waiting for me.” It tendered your heart.

“Let’s go eat then. I’m sure you’re starving.” However, Gue Sung didn’t want to let go, his grip on you only tightened squeezing you against his torso. No matter how many times, you brush his arms away it would always ends up back circling around your waist.

“What? I can’t set the table if we’re like this.” You laugh light-heartedly,

“Have you always been this pretty?” Gue Sung almost coos, “우리이쁜자기 ( My pretty baby ).”

“Go take a shower! You stink.” You ushered him away towards the bathroom. Your ear pick up the sound of water splashing, you move around the kitchen, hands everywhere all at once to get the food reheated, plated and on the table before Gue Sung gets out of the shower. 

It has been a long day for him, you’re sure. You take upong yourself to sit while you await for your beloved, occupied by your mobile phone. Food all laid out on the table; all simple and quick whipped up meal, thankfully your boyfriend was no picky eater. He enjoyed a variety of dishes and scarfed everything down with gusto… Except meat. He’s particular about how it should be done. Not long after, he emerges from the shower.

You held out your hand for him to hand the towel. It’s a unspoken ritual at this point; he sits down and you dry off his hair. There was something weirdly intimate about it. Running the soft towel through his damp hair. Once his hair is relatively dry, you carded your fingers through his hair brushing it off his forehead, slicking it back. He lets out a sigh of relief and softens under your tender touch. 

You were so deeply lost in your task, you fail to notice Gue Sung’s blatant fond, affectionate and loving stare. He admires everything that you are from your head and down to your toe. He likes everything that you do to him.

“What?” You ask with a stupid smile on your face leaning to his level.

“Nothing.” Gue Sung shook his head.

He cups your face peppered kisses. From your forehead. Eyes. Nose. Cheeks. Finally on your lips.

One love, one house.

[waterparksdrama]

hey y'all so you have a masterpost of unreleased parx perhaps? is pretty much everything on soundcloud? i got the demo album, all bonus tracks, hitchin' a ride, starry eyed, and the everywhere cover. they did anoter green day one i have too. also double dare and ent 2019. anything i may be missing?

we don't have a formal masterpost but i used to have a music player on the desktop blog i had to remove bc it kept fucking with our theme's javascript but i guess i can do that for you here

every unreleased waterparks song or cover that's not a demo or alt version of a released song or a live version (i guess)

1 (A COLLECTION OF UNRELEASED HOME DEMOS, THIS IS NOT G, OR EVEN AN ALBUM, SHUT UP ENJOY): self explanatory. the waterparks demo album released bc a joke tweet of awsten's got 20k retweets and then he actually had to release something. we are probably never hearing the sequel of demos to this.

hitchin a ride (green day cover): for kerrang's covers compilation of different artists covering green day aka green day american superhits! it's a good cover

all by myself (green day cover): a green day cover for the same compilation mentioned above. it's an acoustic solo hidden track by tre cool about jacking off so this is an acoustic solo hidden track sung by otto. and still is about jacking off. he played this during their fend acoustic set (at least once) during warped 2018.

starry eyed (ellie goulding cover): a bonus track from airplane conversations that was a free download for purchasing the ep. we need whatever he was doing in this song back.

play: presumably a friendly reminder or fandom demo that was leaked on july 2019. the fake fandom tracklist suggests that the song was also called kiwi but considering that entire thing was a fucking lie it's hard to trust.

waiting (need me back): a hook of a double dare demo leaked in october 2018. goddammit this one was actually good why didn't he ever leak the rest of it why why why.

why can't i (liz phair cover): the intellectual property target exclusive bonus track. thank you to the target employee that leaked the bonus tracks on reddit and me catching onto awsten liz phair posting so i could be right about what the cover would be. it's a good cover.

double dare 2019 and entertainment 2019: medleys of the band's albums released under equal vision. after their departure from the label, they lost the rights to their equal vision releases and made the medleys to combat this. they were swiftly taken off streaming services and can only be heard through their live album, fandom: live in the uk. i can't listen to these or else an incredible wave of sadness washes through me.

what we do for fun: japanese bonus track off of double dare. literally one of the greatest songs i've heard and i will never understand why it wasn't on the album.

candy: japanese bonus track off of double dare. fun classic pop punk track that feels like it could've been in a 2000s teen movie soundtrack.

as far as i know that's it for (studio recorded) songs and covers because if i had to write down every live cover snippet they did i would be here all night trying to find random shit like their fcp remix cover to the hella good cover to the goddamn national anthem and i don't feel like sourcing all of that. - iz

[emilyblame]

A question for Waterparks fans 2

who is up for another poll?

two years ago, i did a poll where i asked you guys 3 questions:

1. in which era did you start listening to Parx? 2. which one is your favorite EP or album? 3. which are your top 5 favorite songs?

you can check the results of that here. now, the point of that poll was to test the hypothesis that whichever era you start listening to a band is gonna make that album your favorite, and a pattern of that being possibly true started to show. so i wanted to do it again since there are people that started listening to Parx recently. let’s see if the results reinforce this hypothesis or if it sends it to hell.

as for the top 5, i’m changing it to top 10 (solely because i found it really hard to pick just five myself.) and i’m including the 2019 Double Dare and Entertainment versions as songs. so each counts as a single song. go nuts. and for those who don’t know what the 2019 versions are, first of all: how dare you? secondly, here: have your lives changed forever:

Double Dare (2019): listen | download Entertainment (2019): listen | download

lastly, another thing i wanted to know is which is your top most favorite Waterparks song. like, the one. the song that makes you go, “fuck, Awsten is so annoying online but he wrote THIS and i fucking forgive anything because of it.”

as usual, i have a few questions about all of this but i’ll tell you guys with the results because i don’t want to unconsciously condition your responses. so, hang in there, it’s gonna make sense.

and finally, this is gonna be up for a week. so up until next Friday (June 9th) at around noon.

happy choosing!

[emotionallychargedtowel]

For the BL trope ask game: 4 and 13

Thanks for the ask, dearie! (And for getting this ask game started to begin with.) These tropes are very much up my alley.

Long-Term Pining (4)

I’m a big fan of long-term pining, as I'm sure you know and as is probably abundantly clear to anyone who reads my tumblr or talks about QL stuff with me elsewhere. I’m not sure what’s so especially compelling about it for me. Part of it is how special it is for someone to be that loyal and committed. Staying constant over a long time without encouragement is one of the biggest indications of the strength of someone’s feelings you could have. I also relate to it in some ways, because when I have serious feelings for someone they don’t ever really go away. Not to mention all the hopeless crushes I’ve had in my life. 

A lot of my favorite BLs/QLs involve a significant amount of pining, so I had plenty of ideas for this trope—if anything, I had too many. I decided to go with my new blorbo, Ai Di from Kiseki: Dear to Me, because his pining takes a really interesting form. 

According to something Louis Chiang said in a behind-the-scenes video, Ai Di has liked Chen Yi since he was six or seven years old, which would have made Chen Yi nine or ten. By the time of the second part of the story, Ai Di is 22 and Chen Yi is 25. That’s sixteen years of pining.

The thing I find most interesting about Ai Di’s version of pining is that it has a really paradoxical quality. Because of a combination of circumstances and his personality, he doesn’t respond to things in the way we would expect for someone who’s pining for someone else. (I guess it’s no wonder I got obsessed with Kiseki after watching it a couple weeks back, since I seem to have a thing for paradoxical relationship dynamics.) Basically, Ai Di is pining for someone while pushing him away and even rebuffing advances from him, things you wouldn’t expect someone deeply in love to do. 

Ai Di gives Chen Yi a hard time about how "his eyes gave him away" when he looked at their boss at this meeting, but what about this?

In the 2019 part of the story, Ai Di often pushes Chen Yi away and even pushes him toward their boss. He passes up invitations and complains about Chen Yi including him in things, repeatedly makes fun of Chen Yi for being a virgin (according to Ai Di) and says he’s impotent, and tells him again and again to confess to or hit on the boss, practically daring him to at times (albeit in a derisive way that wouldn’t be a great approach if he actually wanted Chen Yi to make a move). When Chen Yi kisses him, he bites his lip hard enough to make him bleed (after only hesitating for a microsecond). After he has sex with Chen Yi when he’s drunk, he distances himself in the biggest way yet. Partly out of guilt about this, and fear that Chen Yi will hate him when he realizes what he did, and partly out of his usual desire to protect him, he voluntarily goes to prison for four years in order to protect Zongyi (whose imprisonment is Chen Yi’s responsibility). 

From this point on, Ai Di pushes Chen Yi away even more than before. When Chen Yi comes to visit him in prison on their shared birthday and brings a cake like the ones he used to get for him, dropping massive hints that his eyes have been opened now, Ai Di is incredibly cold and tells him never to visit again. When he’s released in 2023, he continues to push Chen Yi away with all of his might. He avoids him, tells him repeatedly that they should cease all contact, and returns gifts Chen Yi sends him. The most hurtful thing he does is probably the way he talks about the night they had sex, claiming he did it “just for fun.” He goes on to rebuff two more advances from Chen Yi despite continued hints that he has come to understand and even return Ai Di’s feelings. 

If your prospective partner has to put you in a double kabedon, you're hardcore about avoiding them.

Chen Yi’s next attempt is successful. He ties Ai Di up, since he apparently has to be physically restrained in order to hear Chen Yi out. Chen Yi finally tells him more explicitly that after Ai Di went to prison he’d figured out how he felt and how much he’d done for him, that he knew it was him when they slept together (at least, after a certain point), and that he’d realized that he actually returned his feelings. 

This is an epic amount of avoidance for a long-term piner. In some cases, his avoidance is probably for the best. When Chen Yi first starts to put the moves on him, he hasn’t begun to sort out his feelings about the boss. Giving way could easily have made everything worse. But once Chen Yi starts to understand his feelings, it would have made sense for Ai Di to start to let his guard down. Yet he pushes back against Chen Yi’s overtures way harder at that point. 

When asked in an interview (translated here) about what advice he would give Ai Di, Louis Chiang said about Chen YI, “you have to go after him relentlessly, don’t let go of him, don’t let go of your own love for him, keep looking at him persistently, and make him look back at you.” Ai Di pretty much does the opposite of this, so there’s no wonder Chiang thought he could use this advice. 

Why would someone behave this way? There’s actually a good psychological explanation. It has everything to do with the adverse experiences he had as a child. We don’t know when the boss started taking care of Ai Di, but he was definitely with his birth parents or some other parental figures for some time before that happened, and according to him, his parents “went crazy because of drugs,” implying intense use of serious substances. Even if he was under the boss’s care at a very young age, his most formative years would have been spent in a very chaotic environment. It seems like he experienced severe neglect and he may have seen any number of things a child shouldn’t. Like a lot of people with this kind of early experience, Ai Di appears to have a disorganized attachment style. Which is something I could go off about, but that should probably be its own post. 

For now I’ll just say that I think the paradoxical way Ai Di behaves given his devotion to Chen Yi is one of the things that makes him such an interesting character. 

Grumpy/Sunshine (13)

I'm a bit partial to this trope, too. I have a few favorites. Ji Woo and Seo Joon from To My Star are right up there. But for this post, I’m going to talk here about another grumpy/sunshine pair I love: Mamoru and Issei from Kabe Koji. 

How much more grumpy/sunshine could they get?

When it comes to BL protagonists, Mamoru is about as grumpy as it gets. He approaches the world as if disappointment and provocation are so inevitable that he may as well get angry and resigned now and skip the part where he makes an effort. And it seems like he’s had his share of experiences that led him to have these expectations. He deals with homophobic bullying on a regular basis. His rare sources of happiness are really tenuous, like his vacillating popularity with readers of independent comics. And his selective, biased memory of what happened with Issei serves to justify his worst views of life and humanity. Yet in the face of all of this, he has a remarkable, stubborn insistence on following his dream, and though he compromises it at times, he usually listens to his creative voice in an admirable way. 

Issei, meanwhile, is such a sunshine boy that he dances right up to the line where toxic positivity starts. But he doesn’t cross it. He's not always great at sitting with his own negative feelings, though he manages to grow his capacity for that as the story progresses. But it comes pretty naturally to him to sit with other people’s negative feelings. It’s one of the reasons he keeps winning people over wherever he goes--he's able to join with people in their fear and distress and still hold on to a thread of sincere positivity and compassion.

The trouble with Mamoru is that the negative filter he applies to everything is too extreme and he applies it so rigidly. It’s wild to see how much his brain is able to twist anything into something bad. Studying psychology and doing some training placements as a therapist definitely showed me firsthand that human beings have a remarkable capacity to twist things to fit their existing beliefs and expectations, so the fact that I was frequently blown away by Mamoru’s negative filter is really saying something. 

In his gentle, good-natured way, Issei forces Mamoru to look at things differently and open himself up to new experiences and relationships. It’s amazing gift to be able to do that. I don’t think I could pull off being as sunshine-y as Issei in a million years, even though I have some low-key Pollyanna tendencies. But I wonder if I could learn from the way he relates to people. Sometimes he handles other adults in ways that remind me of things I’ve read in parenting books. I guess this is because he makes it a priority to validate others, and that’s an important parenting skill. I don’t think he infantilizes others, though. It’s more that Issei is the kind of person who would treat a kid with as much respect as an adult. And really, the things that kids need from interactions with their parents are almost always the same kinds of things we all need from one another. 

And again, so grumpy, so sunshine.

It’s interesting that Mamoru is able to provide something to Issei that he can’t get elsewhere. It’s been a while since I watched Kabe Koji so I could be off here, but I think it has to do with the one little idealistic piece of himself that Mamoru has guarded with all of his grumpy defense mechanisms–and the fact that Issei ended up as a sort of patron saint of that part of him, a symbol of hope in the world. If he only saw Issei this way, that would be a big problem. But he’s still able to see him as a person–if anything, he understands his personhood and respects his feelings more than anyone. I guess he’s cynical enough that an idealized image of Issei as a perfect ray of sunshine wouldn’t be believable or appealing to him anyway. Sometimes his image of Issei gets a bit disconnected from reality, like what happens when he doesn’t interact with him in real life for a long time and just sees him doing idol things on TV and stuff. But as long as he’s around him sometimes, he continues to really see him in a way that few people do. 

It really doesn’t get better than someone who really sees you for who you are and still thinks what they see is exceptional. Or when someone you think is truly exceptional sincerely loves you back.

[parxarchive]

welcome to the parxarchive!

this is an archive blog for the band waterparks that not only wants to archive the current (and many) accounts of the boys, but also seeks to preserve older content of the band that hasn't been archived as much.

this blog is mainly designed around desktop and it is highly encouraged that you navigate the blog through the archive.

taglist is below the cut:

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instagram

instagram story

twitter

tiktok

youtube

livestreams

archival band posts

facebook

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interviews

rock sound

alternative press

kerrang

digital interviews

video interviews

print interviews

band eras

pre waterparks

airplane conversations

black light

cluster

double dare

entertainment

fandom

greatest hits

intellectual property 

awsten hair eras

brown

blonde

pink

blue

purple

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multicolor

red

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privated/“secret” accounts

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property_103

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z_zz_z_zz_z

member posts:

awsten

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instagram

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general tags

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deleted posts

[thelostjournal]

intro blog

so recently, I've gotten back into gravity falls. I was in the fandom briefly back in 2017-2019. But winded up leaving it due to another hypfixitation. Now I am back uwu!

I plan on using this blog to reblog any cool gravity falls content I find. This blog will hopefully double as an au blog once I get lore and plot together :333

' Journal entry ' will be the tag I use for any content i make

' Lost pages ' is the tag I'll be using for reblogs

' Lost in queuing ' will be the queue tag

some rules

•im open to magic anons, asks, dares

•crossovers with other Aus

•spam asks

•tagging this blog

•rps, if I have the time I will say yes

•collabs, ask

NO NSFW, PROSHIP OR INCEST ships. request for that will be ignored and you will be blocked!

NO Racism/Nazis/sexisim/toxic/ overall.anyone who is rude and disrespectful to other people. Its 2023 for the love of god!

And thats pretty much it. I may update this over time. If you have any questions or want to say hi to me, my main blog is @melodythebunny

Will update this post as needed!

[literaphobe]

1, 7 and 9 from the ask game (no i am not slick for asking ab 9 but this is who i am ok) - zo

of the fic you've written, which are you the most proud of?

OK SO usually id cite one of my more popular fic or long multichaps BUT BUT BUT i actually wanna talk about a rose for rosa because i randomly saw an ask yesterday from an anon talking about how underrated it was and so i just reread it and i actually love it?? it got 9 comments like. my poor baby... im so sorry... anyway yeah its a valentines day flashback flashforward type fic that goes through events from 2009 2015 and 2019!! which HEHE so hype to me. i love the narrative and double love story i wove into it. another fic i have in this style is okay, but i double dare you and its about 2 truth or dare games that take place 20 years apart, 1999 vs 2019... honestly i hope i do something epic like this again one day. neither of these r mlb btw sorry BUT i am so proud of tvl. even if its not done and not available for ao3 viewing yet

7. create a character on the spot... NOW!

AHHHH this is fizzy mcmint. he fucking blows cold ass minty chilling air at you to slowly freeze u dead and if he blows fizzy air into water and u step into it u bubble up and die. he also loves blowing people

9. a passage from a WIP

FINE. u win again… how do u keep outsmarting me…

send me a writing ask!

[eventuallyaugust]

hyunseol (txt) profile and facts (updated!)

hyunseol (휸설) is south korean soloist and a member of the six-member group txt under hybe (formerly big hit entertainment). she debuted solo in --- 2022 with the mini album “hyacinth avenue”.

stage name: seol (설)

birth name: oh hyunseol (오휸설)

english name: azrael oh (previous: reese oh)

position: —

face claim: oh haewon (nmixx)

birthday: january 3, 1999

zodiac sign: capricorn

chinese zodiac: hare/rabbit

height: 180.34 cm (5’11″)

weight: 67 kg (148 lbs)

blood type: o+

mbti type: istp-t (her previous result was estp)

representative emoticon: 🐨

nationality: korean

instagram: soyseol

fandom name: seolmate

spotify playlist: txt seolace

hyunseol 's facts:

– hyunseol was born in incheon, south korea but moved to the us when she was four and moved back to seoul, south korea when she was thirteen.

– family: parents, uncle, two aunts, grandparents, cousins, niece

– she confirmed that she is a younger cousin of exo's oh sehun. (vlive)

– she attended incheon nonhyeon high school.

– hyunseol was the 1st member to be revealed on january 10, 2019.

– her representative animal is owl. (questioning film)

– her representative flower is purple hyacinth. (questioning film)

– at the end of her question film, the morse code translates to “future”.

– she can speak korean, english, japanese, and spanish. she also said that she is trying to learn other languages like french. (vlive)

– her introduction video surpassed 1 million views within the first 24 hours, along with her member yeonjun.

– she auditioned in big hit because her friends double dared her to do it and got accepted several weeks after. (vlive)

– her training period is 4 years and a half.

– she is the oldest of the group, older than yeonjun by a few months.

– her favorite fruits are bananas, avocados, and oranges.

– she has a fanbase ever since her reveal.

– her fandom name is "seolmates".

– on her birthdays, she sang songs as a gift to moas and her fans. songs list: 2020 - magic!'s 'rude'; 2021 - 5sos's 'ghost of you'; 2022 - d.o.'s 'rose (eng ver)'; 2023 - ricky montgomery's 'mr. loverman'

– hyunseol says she doesn’t have a particular hobby, but according to beomgyu, she is often seen crocheting and doodling in the dorm.

– she is a former jyp entertainment trainee.

– her past time is writing lyrics and solving mind games. (spotify k-pop quiz)

– hyunseol excels at games, especially video games. (talk x today ep.1)

–her favorite number is 8. she talks about how she always get lucky with that number. she also said that's her number she chose to put in her track team shirt. (talk x today ep.2)

– hyunseol has been a great observant of people's emotions and body languages, according to her members. (talk x today ep.1) 

– hyunseol has a nickname given by members: “ace” because the ace of different cards are always seen in her room. (talk x today ep.3) 

– hyunseol used to play for a track team in high school and won several competitions. (talk x today ep.3) 

— hyunseol said that she was popular in her previous school and received so many confession and love letters she bough another locker for her admirers to fill, instead of the locker she's using for studying. (vlive)

– according to yeonjun, hyunseol is the reason that the production added the morse code in crown's intro. (vlive)

– she said that she decided to leave her position blank because it's best to keep moas on the edge of their seats and experiment with music. (vlive)

– according to hyunseol, yeonjun is more of a fake maknae than she is despite being older than him.

– hyunseol said she learned the sign language because of her deaf grandmother. (fansign 150319)  

– according to huening kai, hyunseol often accompanies him whenever he wants to buy plushies. (fansign 150319) 

- she is afraid of the heights (fansign 150319)

– hyunseol shared that she always give flowers to everyone in her school, no matter who they are in valentines day. (talk x today ep.2) 

– she learned how to speak spanish due her aunt's spanish partner. (vlive)

– she is often called a walking calculator in her previous school. (idol room) 

– according to yeonjun, she has a high alcohol tolerance and will still be sober even there are already several bottles that have been consumed. (vlive) 

– she got interested in cooking and became the designated cook in the dorm. she also said that if she wasn't an idol, she would be a chef. (spotify k-pop quiz)

- she officially changed her name from reese oh to azrael oh since the previous name is registered in the us and she wants to change it for a fresh start. (idol room)

– her favorite colors are sage green, pink, beige (fansign  150319), and sea blue. (spotify k-pop quiz) 

– she was a special mc in music bank with lee chaemin.

– she has a total of 9 tattoos over the years; an ace of clubs on the side of her index finger on her left hand, a small lotus flower on her back between her shoulders, an infinity symbol at the back of her left ear, a compass on her left wrist, a paper crane on her forearm, a heartbeat on her collarbone, a crown below her belly button, arm bands on her right bicep, and an orion constellation on her left hip (ig live, 2024)

– she got involved in dating rumours with aespa's karina and lesserafim's yunjin in which none of them has been confirmed. she also got involved in a dating rumor with viviz' umji and bighit immediately addressed the rumor as false.

– hyunseol's ideal type: she says her ideal type is someone who loves her as much as she loves them, doesn't afraid to speak their mind, and someone will treat her right. (vlive) 

show more hyunseol fun facts…

[maxemilianverstappen]

2023 Tumblr Top 10

1. 250 notes - Jun 18 2023

Charles, next time, instead of wearing those accursed red pants, slap Max's butt for a front row lockdown as your good luck...

2. 218 notes - Sep 21 2023

3. 196 notes - Aug 29 2023

Ferrari, for once in your darned existence, do a good job and put Charles in the top 3 in the Monza quali for Max to approach...

4. 149 notes - Sep 22 2023

Do you think Charles ever confronted Max about how he pretended to mix up the Monaco flag with the Singapore flag back in 2019...

5. 145 notes - Sep 18 2023

If Charles wins a race, I dare Ferrari to make him slap a Ferrari sticker on Max's ass to show who he belongs to.

6. 144 notes - Sep 3 2023

Charles: I had good battles with Max here. Charles also: I raced hard with guys, but especially with Max in the past...

7. 120 notes - Sep 27 2023

Q:

8. 118 notes - Sep 26 2023

Girlies' bare necessities: A good race, a gay podium, a double interview, and a padel game date.

9. 115 notes - Apr 5 2023

10. 103 notes - Jan 22 2023

Q:

Created by TumblrTop10

[bajisanii]

Hyunjin death in skzverse(I'm not English speaker, sorry if you something not understand or I made a mistake)

I don't know how to start a story, but let me start it somehow mysteriously. Now I'm going to talk about a rather obscure topic and I saw it from an English blogger (as far as I know, English is not really the author's native language, but I'll call it English because of the language of the video, so…) in the video 2020-2021.

Actually, I should probably first tell the theory that the author presented, and then what led to what is written in the title of this… what is it? This theory.

It all starts with the significance of Hyunjin in the Stray Kids universe. Just so you understand, the author has a whole set of videos on what the characters of the Stray Kids mean or are in their universe. Naturally, I'll leave credits to the author of the theory and his video at the end, so I'm not assigning anything to myself, I just want to tell you all about it.

In the Stray Kids universe, Hyunjin is the key. In God's menu he makes an illusion of a keyhole through which he looks into the camera, actually repeating in detail the scene of Chan in another clip Double knot (you can watch the prologue of the video with this moment).

(Time-code in God's menu: 1:38)

The choreography in Back door also deserves special attention, where he starts it as the one who "opens the door".

Also in Side effects, if you remember, at the very end of the clip, the key that Hyunjin lost in this world but later found it in Double knot was shown (yes, I'm aware that keys are different in appearance and it looks more like the key from "the final piece 2019", but did you allow for the possibility that it can change its shape? Anyway, this isn't a particularly important detail and this insert is literally my author's piece, but… just read on, okay?)

Just because Hyunjin is the key that opens the door/portal to the next world, he becomes indispensable to the rest of the members, so they can't leave world without him. This is the reason why in Side effects skz coming back for Hyunjin.

In spite of all this, Hyunjin is the most skeptical of all the members. (As an example, he looks at Chan in Astronaut as if he's waiting for some answers from him).

A bunch of times he tried to warn us that something is wrong from the very beginning (i.e. District 9, I dare to assume that this is what the author of the theory had in mind, since the following is a frame from this m/v)

In the world of Miroh Stray Kids have been there twice (you can know that from the same prequel, I will naturally leave the original video from the JYP-oppa channel) and just the second time, Hyunjin seems to be one of the few, if not the only one, who is not impressed with the world of Miroh. Because he remembers having been there before. However, he remains silent as he knows that hardly anyone will listen to him.

Speaking of keys, or in our case, the single key mentioned above, this is the key that used to control the elevator (I daresay it's the same-old Hellevator) when skz get to the previously uncharted road of the YW or Yellow wood worlds.

As we remember, in Side effects throughout the clip, Hyunjin is acting a bit aggressive, and it's clear to see that he's fucked up(mentally or something like that). At the end of the clip, in this "cutscene," Hyunjin actually gives up. He's tired, it's clear to see, but the rest of his friends try to cheer him up and come back for him. What's my point? And this is me now to another reminder of how important Hyunjin is. If he decides to give up or end this whole mess, it won't be good for the Stray Kids at all, which is why they try to avoid such moments. In order for the Stray Kis to succeed, Hyunjin must not trust the illusions (that mean he must also be extremely cautious) and keep moving forward. This will all play an important role in the end.

Hyunjin can easily tell the difference between Jeongin and his clone in Astronaut by being himself and not violating the above points, with a clear mind. The same picture happened with other members and their clones(Hyunjin can also know who is who).

Now, having discussed how important Hyunjin's pure mind is and what he is capable of doing when that is the case, let's move on to his mistakes. There were two in total and they were shown as an alternate ending, at least in one of the cases for sure.

Let's start with the first one, which took place in the world of Side effects. The famous fight with Seungmin. Being under the influence of the world (which actually means the same thing as trusting an illusion), because of his emotions about the fact that no one listens to him and is unlikely to listen to him, he starts a fight with Seungmin. I realize that you don't really understand the significance of this whole event yet, so I think it's worth telling you a little bit about Seungmin now, too, according to the same author's theory.

Seungmin in this world represents a map. In many worlds he can be seen with a camera in hand and naturally it makes sense. In Miroh, as well as in All in, we can see Seungmin creating a map of the levels from his collected photos (the universe is compared to the game throughout the author's theories, if you didn't notice this above, then I, for some reason, decided not to mention this factor) so that we don't forget where he was, when and what happened there.

(Please pay attention to the background of the marked screenshots from All in, based on them we can assume that it was Seungmin who participated in the creation of these inscriptions and clues(?) on the board. Based on the silhouettes, I'm assuming that there were 4 people involved in its creation, namely: Hyunjin(he appears in the first screenshot, and after that he disappears somewhere; By the way, if you look a little more carefully, you can see that there are two Hyunjin and they are sitting almost back to back (if you can't see it in the screenshots, I'll send you to watch the m/v)), Minho (the assumption is based on the shirt he is wearing, he's the first one on the right in the background), Jeongin (second from the left after Hyunjin, again because of the clothes, since he's wearing a white t-shirt on top and a denim suit after that (I forget what that thing is called, so let it be a denim suit)), and Seungmin (he's the one sitting down).

In the I am not trailer we can see a moment where Seungmin draws something from a sample. From this, we can conclude that maybe he's just as good at cartography.

Now when we've talked about Seungmin, let's go back to the situation in Side effects. We can't say for sure that it was only the world's influence and Hyunjin's internal problems that made him do this (an example of the world's influence is the endlessly repeated phrase, "My head hurts"). He could have easily been pissed off by Seungmin's calm demeanor in the situation they were in in this world. Especially, he didn't know what reason Kim had for taking the pictures in the first place. The moment he knocks the camera out of Seungmin's hands is the moment he makes his fatal mistake.

Just as Hyunjin loses the key in Side effects, Seungmin loses the map in the same world. And all of this combines to cause the Stray Kids to self-lock themselves into Side effects. What Hyunjin started out as a normal fight with nothing easily turned into something more and that mistake turned out to be far more important. Well, hopefully now you realize how important the pictures Seungmin took were and we can go back to Hyunjin and his second mistake.

The second mistake, showing as the darkest alternative to Stray Kids, we have in I am you, to be more precise, in the second teaser, where we can see a rather interesting scene.

If you remember, Hyunjin's scene in I am you, is the scene with the filming equipment (spotlight, lapmas, lights and all that kind of stuff).

In the second teaser at the very beginning we can see a body lying surrounded by all this equipment. It's not hard to guess who's lying there. In this scene itself, we can see at least 4 members (with Hyunjin). Only one of the 4 figures moves in this scene and I can suggest that it was either Bang Chan or Felix (because of their blonde hair, although Felix has red hair in this era). Actually, whoever it is, he moves swiftly towards Hyunjin's body and passes by another member and the scene ends when the figure is halfway to the body.

Let's now discuss the reasons why this could have happened. The first reason is that Hyunjin just couldn't stand what was happening to him and jumped himself (from the way the body is lying, we can assume that it fell from a height) and the second reason is that he was pushed by one of the clones and maybe later, if it was his clone, he simply replaced it.

Also, this is my addition to this theory, is that Chan always knows more than the others. I mean, it's natural, but it seems like at some point, he start to believes that Hyunjin is the same as his clone from the future Double knot (remember, he helped Chan by giving him the key to travel between realities, at a time when the lives of both clones and originals were in very great danger because of the government, as well as the splitting of worlds or their unification). So in Astronaut, Chan was able to tell Hyunjin things he wasn't supposed to know, causing Hyunjin to split Chan's cargo. But eventually Hyunjin got over it and.. you know. This is another more extended version of the теории самагубства (self-m*rder theory).

Also, one moment with Hyunjin is very interesting. In fact, it has no connection to the above theory (although you can think of a way he could be connected to it), but it's also a pretty creepy moment. We all know that Stray kids are being watched in the skzverse. This can be seen in I am you, District 9, Double knot, All in and other such worlds. Have you heard M.I.A.? Have you seen the performance video? In fact, there's can be a whole separate analysis on it (maybe sometime in the future I'll pay attention to it), even though it's not a m/v, it's just a performance. I'm just talking about Hyunjin and one of the moments in that video. I'll just show you, and beyond that, I'll leave the moment to your theories and fantasies.

That's it, thanks for reading and listening, here's a video of Hyunjin's breakdown, as well as credits:

Tiktok: alyfortuna84

The official prequel, which should explain something:

(Well, here's a little corner of my theory. What if every time one of the participants dies, and since every participant is important to the Stray kids according to the theory above (I actually dedicated this part to Hyunjin and Seungmin, but this author also has theories about other participants, I'm just most impressed with this one. But if you consider the theories about the other participants, it seems that each of them is important, and most of the time the Stray Kids just can't get any further without one participant), then the universe is just restarted. If you compare it to the game, when one of the members dies, the Stray Kids just go to a bad ending and start over from the last save. Ok, just my theory, hopefully the "main theory" will be heard by a little more people because it's fucking interesting).

[waterparksdrama]

[niemernuet]

Inspired by a certain post from last weekend (ahem...) and the immaculate fratboy-vibes of the picture below I finally found the strength for another fic for the osws fandom challenge. No plot, just vibes.

The prompt is: ❄️ Late Night Calls ❄️

You can lead a horse to the after-party…

rating: T pairing: Marcel Hirscher & Felix Neureuther, Marcel Hirscher/Henrik Kristoffersen characters: Marcel Hirscher, Felix Neureuther, Henrik Kristoffersen length: 2'300 words

Soldeu, spring 2019:

The temperatures hit double digits before lunch, and now, in the middle of the afternoon, the sweat running down Felix' back underneath the layers of ski clothes mixes with the Champagne-residue that rained down on him a few minutes earlier and the water of the snow that sloshed over his boots during the second run. He is not one to complain though, certainly not on a day like this, and with a contented smile he pokes his nose into the sun and soaks up the warmth.

"So, this is it?" he asks after a while, and turns his head slightly to look at the man sitting in the camping chair next to his. The music blasting over the grandstands in the finish area allows them just the right amount of privacy for that question.

"Most likely," Marcel answers. Felix cannot see his eyes hidden behind a pair of shiny sunglasses; maybe they would show a little bit of the heaviness these two words carry that neither his smile nor his relaxed posture show.

Down in the snow, Pinturault crosses the finish line. Felix knows more from experience than he can see from their distance that he must carry a rather surly expression at the moment. Marcel chuckles as Felix balls his fist.

"Happy holidays, loser," Felix singsongs softly.

"It's two hundredths," Marcel grins. "No need to get haughty."

Felix purses his lips. "But it's the last time I can be."

Marcel snorts, and his head drops backwards. "You just cannot stop milking this, can you?"

Felix frowns. "Why would I?"

"Right," Marcel smiles, and sits up marginally straighter in the flimsy folding chair while the giant screens overlooking the area show the next racer preparing to hurtle down the watery mountainside. For a few moments, they sit in amiable silence before Felix picks up the threads again.

"I should fetch another Champagne bottle and dump it over your head."

"Don't you dare!"

"It's just not right! How can everyone clap for little old me when they all should bow down before you? The best skier of all time leaves for the last time, and all we have is…this." He limply lifts his hand a few inches off the armrest, and drops it again. "There should have been a red carpet waiting for you at the end, and the entire bloody FIS on their knees ready to kiss your feet."

"And that is exactly why I did not say anything," Marcel answers, and there is a sharp edge in his voice all of a sudden and a bitter expression on the visible part of his face. "They'd all be here, all the ass-kissers and brown-nosers, all these two-faced backstabbers just wanting one last handshake, one last picture before they'd happily toss me aside…"

His voice breaks off but Felix focuses on Mölgg's split times flashing up on the screens. He also does not move when Marcel's head falls back again, and he turns to smile at Felix.

"But the most important reason is that I would never want to overshadow your grand farewell."

It is his invitation to turn the conversation into their usual, well-trodden tracks where one quip follows another and nothing they ever say is meant too serious but Felix cannot follow him just yet. Not when the severity of this day finally catches up with him.

"I'd have loved to share it with you," he says quietly.

Marcel joins the rest of the audience in their clapping for Mölgg as he crosses the finish line. He takes his time with an answer.

"I know."

The speaker delves into a lengthy monologue as the cameras zoom towards the start again. The race number that Felix shrugged out of and wears like a scarf around his neck scratches over his chin, and he pushes it down with one hand.

"My biggest regret, actually," he begins, and finally reciprocates Marcel's smile, tough a little lopsided. "is not the Olympics, not any other missed chance…no, my biggest regret is that I could never really show you the light side of our world."

Marcel snorts. "Don't get sappy now. We've had our share of after-parties, you and I."

"It's not that!" Felix insists. "You can lead a horse to the after-party but you can't make him enjoy it, and…and I really would have wanted to…"

Marcel bursts out laughing, and Felix joins him, even though it seems to fuel the sharp pain in his chest.

"You of all people deserved to feel it at least once," he finishes.

Marcel slid down in the chair again during their chat, and now folds his hands over his stomach. Yule is almost at the finish line before he speaks again.

"I think I'm just not wired that way," he says, almost too soft for Felix to understand. He turns his head once more, and this time Felix looks back at him. The fact that he cannot see Marcel's eyes makes this a lot easier.

"I loved every stupid happening you ever dragged me to; not because of the things there of course, but because of you."

Yule comes first, and the corner with the Swiss delegation close to their little hiding spot erupts in cheers. Marcel looks down at the padded and fenced ring where Yule climbs out of his skis, and claps politely. "Though I have to say, me personally, if I were Rosi Mittermaier's son, my biggest regret would indeed be my three participation trophies from the Olympics." He cocks his head, and grins at Felix. "Just saying."

"Fuck off!" Felix laughs, and throws his head back. "You just had to dig that up today of all days."

"Hey, you did it first."

The screens switch back to the start gate, the speaker belts out the name of the next racer, and Felix can practically feel the sudden tension oozing from the other chair.

"Speaking of regrets," he smiles.

Marcel's answer is swift and sharp. "No!"

Felix' smile grows into a grin. "Come on! It's your last trophy. The one that got away."

"He's not a tr…it's not a trophy," Marcel hisses, and crosses his arm in front of his chest while next to him, Felix howls with laughter, and attracts the attention of the few bystanders around them. Felix is still laughing when Henrik crosses the finish line. He misses the podium entirely, and his ski pole has to suffer for this result as it gets smashed into the sludge.

Felix shakes his head, though he is still smiling. "I don't understand you. You could have anyone in the world, whoever you wanted…but this awkward, cringy…"

"Hey!" Marcel snaps.

"…sore loser is your choice?" Felix continues unperturbed. "Seriously?"

Marcel turns his head, and shows his entire upper row of teeth. Felix knows better than to call it a smile. "What do you know about love? You're heterosexual."

Felix snorts. "Why does it sound like a slur when you say it?"

"Because I mean it as such."

The cameras pan to the last racer of the season, and once more, applause brandishes through the arena.

"You realise you won't have any excuse anymore once you…leave, right?" Felix asks, carefully omitting the bad r-word looming all around them. "No more 'oh I can't, not during the season', 'oh no, we're competitors, it'd never work', or 'I have to focus on my career, I can't put that in peril'."

"Shut up!" Marcel growls though it is lacking any bite. He hesitates before he adds: "I'm working on it."

Felix can't suppress a snort. "Sure you are."

Marcel huffs, and it takes all of Felix' self-restraint not to laugh again. "You know what? That's your problem, and I won't assume to know better than you or force you to do something you don't want..."

"Thank you, that's very…unlike you."

"Oh, I'm not finished." Felix looks at Marcel with his brightest smile. "Unless you come to the after-party with me tonight, that is. Otherwise, I might just accidentally let it slip to your little Norwegian twink how smitten you truly are for him."

He keeps smiling while Marcel's furious glare rests on him. "I made a reservation for a booth with bottle service," he adds cheerfully.

Clément crosses the finish line as the last winner of the season, and though he does not know it, he is greeted by a murderous scowl from Marcel.

"I hate you," he mutters.

"No, you don't."

Marcel sighs, and joins in the applause. "No, I don't."

Soldeu, spring 2023:

The call gets answered before Felix is buckled into his seat, as if the person at the other end of the line has been waiting for nothing but this despite the late hour. "I still don't get why you couldn't come," Felix whines, and jostles the phone into the holder mounted against the ventilation slots. "For old time's sake. Remember them?"

"I remember the last time I was in Andorra you blackmailed me," Marcel smiles out of the small screen. He is sitting on the couch in his living room, with only a nearby floor lamp as light source, and takes a sip of a beer.

"Exactly!" Felix exclaims. "We had so much fun! I retired officially; you retired in the closet…"

"Oi," Marcel throws in, though he laughs.

"…I used some light pressure to get you into that club downtown…"

"Blackmail!"

"…and the two of us had a really lovely time. Why couldn't we do it again?"

"Well, first of all because you're pushing forty…"

"Hey, uncalled for!"

"…and secondly you know how I feel about the ski circus. Emphasis on circus."

Felix sighs, and comes to a stop at a crossing. He cranes his head but no other car seems to be on the road at this time of the night, and he turns into the main street. On the other side of the car, something heavy bonks against the window.

"What was that?" Marcel asks.

"Nothing important," Felix shrugs, his mind occupied with other things. "I still can't believe it, is all. I mean, it's been what, almost three years? So I know I should accept it but it's just so ridiculous that your strategy to finally get together with the love of your life was to create the ugliest fucking skis in all of Christendom, and have him race with them while actively hating every step of the process."

Marcel's eyebrow rises. "Ugly?"

"They are the colour of shit."

Marcel rolls his eyes. They have had this conversation before. "It's olive green, and you know it. We had it polled and survey respondents largely agreed that it evokes freedom, strength, independence, and…"

"Well you surveyed the wrong people, because from here it still looks like shit."

"Then I guess it's for the best that you will never have to race with them," Marcel smiles.

Felix grins at him before looking back on the road. "I totally could."

"As if I'd want you for my brand. That’s only for people who evoke freedom, strength, independence and sophistication.”

Felix laughs. “You really make this too easy.”

“Shut up!”

The road crosses again, and Felix sets the blinker. “But for something else entirely: Aren’t you wondering why I’m calling?”

“Not really? I always like hearing from you.”

“M-hm. And you weren’t waiting for someone else’s call?”

Marcel rolls his eyes. “And what if?”

“Well, if you were I have to tell you that you don’t have to wait up. He’s not exactly conscious anymore.”

Marcel’s smile drops. “What?”

“Also, you really owe me big!” Felix parks the car, and looks up at the brightly lit hotel then back at Marcel in his phone. With a grin he turns the phone in the holder, and shows him the sunken figure of Henrik sleeping in the passenger seat.

Marcel’s mouth is wide open, and stays like that for a moment before he finds his voice. “You said it’s not important,” he begins softly, and gradually gets louder. “His head banged against the window!”

Felix sighs, and unbuckles his belt. “Relax, he didn’t even flinch. Honestly, I’m really jealous of that Greek guy. I could never make you let loose like that, even though I’ve tried so hard.”

Marcel’s shouts, or maybe the absence of the engine’s calm hum, brought Henrik back, and with a confused face he blinked at Felix.

“’m sorry for th’ misunderstandin,” he slurs, “but I have a boyfriend.”

“I know,” Felix says, and climbs out of the car.

Marcel still stares dumbfounded out of the phone when he opens the passenger door, and leans over Henrik to open the seatbelt.

“He was partying with Ginnis?”

“We all were,” Felix says as he wrestles the seatbelt away from Henrik’s limp body. “But some of us can handle their Ouzo better than others.”

Henrik groans. “God, the Ouzo…”

Felix sees the danger, and hastily takes a step back. “Oh no no no, not in the car!” he yells, and pulls Henrik halfway out of the seat so that his mouth aims at the street.

“Ouch,” Marcel’s voice sounds from inside, almost drowned out by the wet, gurgling noise coming from Henrik.

“I was leaving Weirather and Berthod for this,” Felix laments. “You know how funny he gets this time of the night.”

Finally, Henrik stops, and with his eyes closed leans back into the seat. “Where’s m’ globe?” he mutters.

Felix leans over Henrik again, carefully avoiding the wet patch on the ground, and yanks the phone away.

“This is all your fault,” he says to Marcel. “If you hadn’t asked him out, I wouldn’t feel obligated to carry him home now.”

Finally, a soft grin cracks Marcel’s stony face. “You wanted me to ask him out for years, so in a way it’s your fault.”

“Ugh,” Felix groans. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “No, I don’t.”

[delshorrorlist]

My Horror List

-Here is a list of my finished horror movies. The first portion is in an unknown order, and the second portion is when I started documenting the order-

1408 (2007)

#Alive (2020)

•REC (2007)

13 Ghosts (2001)

28 Days Later… (2002)

30 Days of Night (2007)

A Classic Horror Story (2021)

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

A Quiet Place (2018)

Anaconda (1997)

Annabelle (2014)

Army of the Dead (2021)

As Above, So Below (2014)

Banana Splits Movie (2019)

Before I Awake (2016)

Bird Box (2018)

Black Sheep (2006)

Blood Red Sky (2021)

Brainscan (1994)

Butchers (2020)

Cadaver (2020)

Cargo (2017)

Carrie (1976)

Carrie (2013)

Child’s Play (1988)

Child’s Play (2019)

Children of the Corn (1984)

Christine (1983)

Color Out of Space (2019)

Cube (1997)

Dave Made a Maze (2017)

Dawn of the Dead (1978)

Dawn of the Dead (2004)

Day of the Dead (2008)

Death of Me (2020)

Devil (2010)

Doctor Sleep (2019)

Don’t Breathe (2016)

Eli (2019)

Escape Room (2019)

Escape Room: Tournament of Champions (2021)

Evil Ed (1995)

Fear Street: Part 1 - 1994 (2021)

Fear Street: Part 2 - 1978 (2021)

Fear Street: Part 3 - 1666 (2021)

Final Destination (2000)

Final Destination 2 (2003)

Final Destination 3 (2006)

The Final Destination (2009)

Final Destination 5 (2011)

Friday the 13th (2009)

From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)

Get Out (2017)

Grave Encounters (2011)

Grave Encounters 2 (2012)

Graveyard Shift (1990)

Gremlins (1984)

Halloween (1978)

Hellraiser (1987)

Hereditary (2018)

His House (2020)

Hostel (2005)

Housebound (2014)

Hush (2016)

Idle Hands (1999)

In the Tall Grass (2019)

Incantation (2022)

Insidious (2010)

Interview with the Vampire (1994)

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)

IT (2017)

IT: Chapter Two (2019)

Jaws (1975)

Jigsaw (2017)

Krampus (2015)

Lake Placid (1999)

Leatherface (2017)

Legion (2010)

Life (2017)

Lights Out (2016)

Little Evil (2017)

Ma (2019)

Mama (2013)

Maximum Overdrive (1986)

Midsommar (2019)

Monster House (2006)

My Bloody Valentine (1981)

No Escape Room (2018)

Nope (2022)

Oculus (2013)

Paranormal Activity (2007)

Peninsula (2020)

Pet Sematary (1989)

Pet Sematary (2019)

Poltergeist (1982)

Psycho (1960)

Purge (2013)

Purge II (2014)

Purge III (2016)

Purge IV (2018)

Purge V (2021)

Ready or Not (2019)

Saw (2004)

Saw II (2005)

Saw III (2006)

Saw IV (2007)

Saw V (2008)

Saw VI (2009)

Saw VII (2010)

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (2019)

Scream (1996)

Scream 2 (1997)

Shaun of the Dead (2004)

Silver Bullet (1985)

Sinister (2012)

Society (1989)

Spiral (2019)

Spiral: From the Book of Saw (2021)

Splice (2009)

Summer of Fear (1978)

Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989)

Texas Chainsaw (2013)

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022)

The Babadook (2014)

The Blair Witch Project (1999)

The Cabin in the Woods (2011)

The Conjuring (2013)

The Craft (1996)

The Crazies (2010)

The Darkness (2016)

The Descent (2005)

The Empty Man (2020)

The Endless (2017)

The Escape Room (2018)

The Evil Dead (1981)

The Final Girls (2015)

The Forest (2016)

The Hills Have Eyes (1977)

The Ice Cream Truck (2017)

The Lazarus Effect (2015)

The Lost Boys (1987)

The Mist (2007)

The Nun (2018)

The Platform (2019)

The Possession (2012)

The Resort (2021)

The Ring (2002)

The Ritual (2018)

The Ruins (2008)

The Shining (1980)

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

The Sixth Sense (1999)

The Strangers (2008)

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)

The Thing (1982)

The Void (2016)

The Woman in Black (2012)

There’s Someone Inside Your House (2021)

Train to Busan (2016)

Tremors (1990)

Truth or Dare (2018)

Tucker & Dale vs. Evil (2010)

Tusk (2014)

Unfriended (2014)

Us (2019)

Uzumaki (2000)

Vivarium (2019)

Warm Bodies (2013)

What We Do in the Shadows (2014)

Willy’s Wonderland (2021)

Winchester (2018)

Wish Upon (2017)

Would You Rather? (2012)

Zombieland (2009)

Zombieland: Double Tap (2019)

Dated Movies

-From this point on I have the date and order I watched these movies, everything above I watched before everything below-

Drag Me to Hell (2009) - October 4th 2022, #176

The Privilege (2022) - October 12th 2022, #177

Halloween Ends (2022) - October 15th 2022, #178

The Witches of Eastwick (1987) - October 24th 2022, #179

The Perfection (2019) - October 25th 2022, #180

Barbarian (2021) - October 25th 2022, #181

The Faculty (1998) - October 30th 2022, #182

The Exorcist (1973) - October 31th 2022, #183

Smile (2022) - November 27th 2022, #184

The Menu (2022) - January 8th 2023, #185

Ghostwatch (1992) - January 28th 2023, #186

Skinamarink (2023) - February 2nd 2023, #187

The Collection (2012) - February 4th 2023, #188

The Innocents (2021) - February 7th 2023, #189

Deadstream (2022) - February 7th 2023, #190

The Dark and the Wicked (2020) - February 7th 2023, #191

Kolobos (1999) - February 8th 2023, #192

Scare Package (2019) - February 9th 2023, #193

Re-Animator (1985) - February 10th 2023, #194

The Boy (2016) - February 15th 2023, #197

The Invitation (2022) - February 18th 2023, #198

Grizzly (1976) - February 18th 2023, #199

C.O.R.N.: Field of Screams (2021) - March 2nd 2023, #200

Slumber Party Masscare II (1987) - March 2nd 2023, #201

The Slumber Party Massacre (1982) - March 3rd 2023, #202

The Silence (2019) - March 5th 2023, #203

Once Upon a Time at Christmas (2017) - March 5th 2023, #204

Evil Toons (1991) - March 15th 2023, #205

Sleepaway Camp (1983) - March 15th 2023, #206

Prom Night (1980) - March 15th 2023, #207

Cooties (2014) - March 19th 2023, #208

House (1985) - March 20th 2023, #209

House of Wax (2005) - March 25th 2023, #210

Prom Night (2008) - March 25th 2023, #211

Werewolf in a Girl's Dormitory (1961) - March 31st 2023, #212

Wolf Creek (2005) - April 2nd 2023, #213

Body Melt (1993) - April 2nd 2023, #214

Bodies Bodies Bodies (2022) - April 5th 2023, #215

Death Becomes Her (1992) - April 18th 2023, #216

Stigmata (1999) - April 19th 2023, #217

Dead Silence (2007) - April 19th 2023, #218

Elevator (2012) - April 20th 2023, #219

Bad Hair (2020) - April 22nd 2023, #220

We Need to Do Something (2021) - 25th 2023, #221

Good Boy (2020) - April 25th 2023, #222

Pilgrim (2019) - April 27th 2023, #223

Piggy (2022) - April 28th 2023, #224

They Come Knocking (2019) - April 28th 2023, #225

Death Spa (1989) - April 30th 2023, #226

The Naked Witch (1961) - April 30th 2023, #227

I'm Just Fucking With You (2019) - May 2nd 2023, #228

Critters (1986) - May 3rd 2023, #229

Chopping Mall (1986) - May 5th 2023, #230

The Farm (2018) - May 12th 2023, #231

Motel Hell (1980) - May 12th 2023, #232

Jeepers Creepers (2001) - May 14th 2023, #233

Mother's Day (1980) - May 15th 2023, #234

Slaxx (2020) - May 15th 2023, #235

Slaughterhouse (1987) - May 16th 2023, #236

One Missed Call (2008) - May 19th 2023, #237

Mayhem (2017) - May 19th 2023, #238

Boar (2017) - May 19th 2023, #239

Pieces (1983) - May 22nd 2023, #240

Pandamonium (2020) - May 24th 2023, #241

All Cheerleaders Die (2014) - May 27th 2023, #242

Waxwork (1985) - May 28th 2023, #243

They Look Like People (2015) - May 28th 2023, #244

Class of Nuke'em High (1986) - May 28th 2023, #245

Fear PHarm (2020) - May 29th 2023, #246

The Stuff (1985) - June 1st 2023, #247

Planet Terror (2007) - June 2nd 2023, #248

Fear PHarm 2 (2021) - June 5th 2023, #249

Mom and Dad (2018) - June 8th 2023, #250

Renfield (2023) - June 11th 2023, #251

After Dark: The Task (2011) - June 12th 2023, #252

Terrifier (2016) - June 19th 2023, #253

It Follows (2015) - June 20th 2023, #254

Choose Or Die (2022) - June 20th 2023, #255

31 (2016) - June 21st 2023, #256

The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016) - June 22nd 2023, #257

Apollo 18 (2011) - June 22nd 2023, #258

Triangle (2009) - June 23rd 2023, #259

Sorority House Massacre (1986) - June 23rd 2023, #260

Braid (2018) - June 24th 2023, #261

Await Further Instructions (2018) - June 26th 2023, #262

Ghost Ship (2002) - July 9th 2023, #263

Annihilation (2018) - July 11th 2023, #264

Antrum: The Deadliest Film Ever Made (2018) - July 13th 2023, #265

Scare BNB (2019) - July 19th 2023, #266

Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers (1988) - July 20th 2023, #267

Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland (1989) - July 20th 2023, #268

The Bunnyman Massacre (2014) - July 26th 2023, #269

House (1977) - July 26th 2023, #270

Night of the Comet (1983) - August 3rd 2023, #271

Phantasm (1979) - August 8th 2023, #272

Evil Dead 2 (1987) - August 8th 2023, #273

Battle Royale (2000) - August 8th 2023, #274

Trucks (1998) - August 8th 2023, #275

247F (2011) - August 15th 2023, #276

2001 Maniacs (2005) - August 15th 2023, #277

The Video Dead (1987) - August 17th 2023, #278

Human Resources (2021) - August 17th 2023, #279

Parents (1989) - August 18th 2023, #280

Urban Legend (1998) - September 8th 2023, #281

You’re Next (2011) - November 21st 2023, #282

Frogs (1972) - November 21st 2023, #283

Jennifer’s Body (2009) - January 8th 2024, #284

The Hunt (2020) - January 8th 2024, #285

The Amusement Park (1975) - January 21st 202;, #286

Diary of the Dead (2007) - February 2nd 2024, #287

Corporate Animals (2019) - February 7th, 2024, #288

The Vampire Bat (1933) - February 7th 2024, #289

Blades (1989) - February 7th 2024, #290

Martyrs (2008) - February 7th 2024, #291

Game of Death (2017) - February 14th 2024, #292

Night Swim (2024) - February 16th 2024, #293

976-EVIL (1988) - February 18th 2024, #294

Microwave Massacre (1979) - February 18th 2024, #295

Street Trash (1987) - February 20th 2024, #296

Escape the Field (2022) - February 21st 2024, #297

Auntie Lee’s Meat Pies (1992) - March 3rd 2024, #298

Return to Horror High (1987) - March 23rd 2024, #299

The Beach House (2019) - April 14th 2024, #300