: My Fave Series On This App - Tumblr Posts
Mica, i loved this so fucking much. the confession was done so perfectly. i am just in awe. i love angst yes but god the fluff? so tooth rotting and am so glad that hopefully there is no more (even though i love it) i am just so happy they are finally together. i think after each chapter just he prepared for me to come to your inbox and scream cause i'm now fully invested in all your stories and fic ideas. my beautiful bean of a friend, i can't believe we are finally at the end almost and that this won't be anymore but i am so excited to have been able to experience this and to be able to bond even more with you over our shared experiences and feelings.
The Guy Next Door | hhj
❝𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨.❞
↳ Chapter 6/7 of The Guy Next Door. See Chapter 1 for story description.
↳ Female reader x Hyunjin
↳ 12.8k
!! This fic explores themes that may distress some readers i.e. familial abuse (physical, verbal, mental), extremely strict/controlling parenting, mental illness, anxiety/depression and sexual exploitation. Please proceed with caution !!
! Strong language, porn star au, strangers to lovers au, college au, first times au, neighbours au, porn star Hyunjin, inexperienced reader, angst and tension, explicit sexual content, heavy sexual themes throughout, frequent reference to pornography, themes of rebellion and self-discovery, new character introductions (transfem Felix, uses she/her pronouns and has female anatomy), much alcohol consumption, drinking games with porn stars, first-time sex and loss of virginity, car sex, semi-public sex, romantic confessions, a sprinkle of fluff amongst the angst and steam, adult themes throughout !
「suitable for 18+ readers only」 「Chapter 1」 「Contents List」 「© January 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」
“And just where in the wonderful fuck have you two been?”
Jisung is the first to question your absence, as he would be, you suppose.
He’s perched on the marbled counter of the kitchen island, speaking over the shoulder of the same mop-haired athlete that endeavoured to turn you away from the party only an hour or so before. Said athlete is far too busy smothering Jisung’s neck in lazy lip attention to acknowledge your presence, however, and you once again wonder how Jisung manages to so easily wrap the dude-bros around his finger. Always the dude-bros.
“None of your business,” you shoot back, hand linked in Hyunjin’s.
“Oh, it is all my business,” the blonde retorts, throat exposed to allow said dude-bro continuous access. “I’m the entire reason he’s even here, you know.”
“He is?”
You look up at Hyunjin, recalling that despite your immediate need for gratification in each other, there are still questions to be answered, explanations to be given.
Hyunjin grimaces, “I’ll explain later. It’s too damn loud in here.”
“Speaking of loud,” Changbin shoves the fridge door closed, hands Hyunjin a cold beer. “Where are your buddies?”
Buddies?
Hyunjin scratches his nape, glancing surreptitiously at you before he replies, “They’re, uh… in the car?”
“You left them in the fucking car?!” Jisung howls, petting dude-bro’s head mindlessly. “Holy shit, that’s hilarious.”
“You should invite them in,” Changbin suggests. “Unless you’re ready to leave?”
He directs that last question at you, to which the glow of appreciation warms you. But in truth, the party hasn’t been half as bad as you believed it would be, and while that assuredly has something to do with the fact you’ve spent the majority of it on your back or with a dick in your mouth, you don’t feel any kind of urgency to leave just yet.
“I’m good for a little while,” you shrug, looking up at Hyunjin.
“You sure?”
You nod, smile at him in reassurance, squeeze his hand. “Yeah. Besides, it’d be nice to meet your friends.”
“Y/n, honey, no. They’re not the kind of friends you’re thinking of—”
Changbin daggers a warning glare at the hysterical blonde, and accompanied by the one from Hyunjin, it appears enough to induce his stoic silence. Instead, he threads his fingers through oblivious dude-bro’s hair, swigging from his beer bottle with brows raised in admission.
“Alright then,” Hyunjin sighs, defeated. “But be warned, they’re… kind of a lot.”
“I’m used to ‘kind of a lot’,” you shrug happily.
Hyunjin seems resigned to the decision, plants a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
With that, he breezes out of the kitchen, leaving you to the interrogation of the tripod. Jisung bats away dude-bro by a swat to his shoulder and a, “get out of here, stud,” that leaves the athlete adequately dazed and confused. He hops off the kitchen island to crowd you.
“So, what happened?” he asks, eyes wild with excitement.
“Oh my god, nothing happened—” you grab an empty cup, pouring a measure of nearby vodka into it.
“Bull-fucking-shit, you were in there for, like, forty minutes—”
“You counted?”
“— I know just how much can happen in forty minutes, honey. Spill.”
“Jisung, lay off, maybe she wants to keep it private?” Changbin berates from the fridge.
“Did you fuck?”
Keep reading
Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh
𝙭𝙭𝙞𝙭. 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚
! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !
「Contents List」 「Act 1」 「© Dec 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」
You’re the problem. Who’d have thought.
Changbin keeps talking.
“It’s the reason I had to take a step back. Jisungie too. When I told him I'd been with somebody else— I mean, he was a little surprised, but he was ultimately okay about it. We’d discussed it, after all. So yeah, he was prepared. When I told him who, he blew his damn top. Said I was an idiot for trusting you, that I was putting everything at risk. He said you... harassed him.”
“Harassed him? I called him once to try and talk to him—”
“I never thought there was any truth to it.”
Anger flares. How dare Chan. “God, Minho was so right about him. He’s such an asshole.”
“Yo, I know you’re mad, but he’s still my boyfriend.”
“He has issues, Bin. The very first time we spoke he said I was nothing more than a booty call. The second time we spoke he called me a sasaeng. I’m not down for insults I have to fucking Google.”
Changbin pales, eyes morphing wide. “What? He called you a what?”
“It’s not true, Bin. Jesus.”
“No, I know. That’s not what I'm—” He drags his hands over his face. “Shit. How did I not see it?”
“See what?”
He shakes his head, takes a deep breath. “Sorry. Nothing. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Feels like it is.”
“It’s not, I promise. It’s just—” He searches for words, but falls short. Shifting from the chair to the sofa, he carefully takes your hands. You’d forgotten how big and warm they were. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I can’t emphasise that enough. For real.”
Your fingers slot together, heat stirring from the touch and sight. His callouses; you’ve missed them.
“I had no intention of cutting things off, for what it’s worth,” he says.
“Chan wants you to?”
From his silence you can infer the rest.
“Really did miss you,” he eventually says. “I’m sorry things are so complicated.”
“It’s not complicated.”
“Yeah? You often get caught in the crossfire of rapper’s poly relationships?”
“Oh, constantly. It’s exhausting.” You trace the shape of his tense knuckles as he smiles. “I know how I feel about you. That’s not complicated.”
Changbin regards you softly. Squeezes your hand.
“You really missed me?” you ask.
He grins, sits back, pats his lap, and never has an invitation been so eagerly snatched. Sit on him? Fuck, yes. He holds your hands as you straddle him, thick thighs tensing when you press yourself to him, his hands seeking the curve of your spine.
He searches your face. “Want me to prove it?” he whispers.
You remove his snapback, run your hands through his thick, dark waves. Smooth your thumbs over his soft cheeks. Cup the shells of his warm ears. Pretty. So pretty.
“Yeah.” You press your lips to his. “I think I fucking do.”
The kiss is a relief, a budding, melty warmth that sweeps low. Changbin groans and you drive against the arousal that grows under you, thick and heavy. Hard. Something inside you snaps; you tear Changbin’s shirt off him, unbuckle his jeans to free him. Smooth in your palm. Throbbing. Your jaw aches and throat ripples with a wish to be abused—
“Want you in my mouth—”
Changbin curses; you slide from his lap to your knees and take him in, long and slow. He makes such perfect, gravelly sounds as should be commemorated, apropos of the place. Hot on your tongue, he leaks as you work him, whispers sweet praises that catalogue neatly into your little black box, a Filofax of filth. He’s a vision like this, one that both other members of 3racha have had the pleasure of seeing.
Now it’s your turn.
So privileged to suck SpearB dry.
fst marathon event~ next chapter in 24 hrs. drop a reblog and comment, show your support and i'll keep the content coming x
𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ♡ 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡
< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >
Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh
𝙡𝙞𝙞𝙞. 𝙖𝙞𝙣’𝙩 𝙖 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚
! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !
「Contents List」 「Act 1」 「© April 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」
It’s a sad thing for a beautiful boy to wallow in a pit of misery.
Chan would know.
He tells himself it’s the typical showcase tension getting to him. Doesn't matter that he’s not involved— the whole company feels it. Trainees shuffle the halls and frighten at their own shadows. Everywhere he turns there’s a pale sack of skin looking at him with sallow eyes that have seen some shit, or so one would think.
He’s definitely not moping because Jia’s all but ghosted him. Nope. Not even. He knew she’d be off limits until the showcase. And that’s fine. This is her chance. When his chance comes he’ll be much the same: too wired to give anyone that isn’t a company executive the time of day, because for that, he’d have to remove his nose from their assess, and that can’t happen until he’s out there.
So he hides in his tiny fifth floor studio. Music is safe. Won’t leave him for... something else. It’s his, just as it’s always been. He stays there until either hunger or bowel movements compel him to emerge, and after addressing the latter with some urgency, he shoves into the humid room to find it occupied. The fuck?
Two young men startle and stare at him. One sits in the desk chair decked out in a jersey and heavy gold jewellery, the other stands behind the microphone, notably skinny even from a distance.
Blinged-out man blinks from under tufts of warm brown. “Hey, man.”
Chan glares at him. “This studio is reserved.”
“Yeah,” skinny man agrees. “By us.”
“This is my studio.”
“Your studio?” He steps out from around the mic. “And you are?”
“I’m your senior.”
His sharp eyes twinkle. Chan wants to poke them out. “Senior, huh?”
Blinged-out man shoots up, the chunky gold chains catching the light and damn near blinding Chan when he bows low and says, “We’re so sorry, we’ll leave—”
“Hell no we’re not,” skinny says. “The teacher said we could use this space whenever we wanted, so we are.” He points at Chan. “This dude doesn’t have the authority to kick us out.”
“Hyung, he’s a senior—”
“Senior my ass. He’s a trainee just like us.”
“What are your names?” Chan asks.
“Why? Going to rat on us?”
“Han Jisung,” blinged-out man blurts. He points to his accomplice. “This is Seo Changbin.”
“Dude—”
Chan commits the names to memory. He’ll need them when he rats on them.
“And your name is...?” Jisung asks tentatively. His eyes are so fucking big they’re giving anime. Chan tries not to look at them.
“You can call me your new worst night—” He stops short, and that’s probably for the best, but it’s not for risk of cringe that he does so. He steps into the room, the door falling closed behind him. “Is that a—” He points to the mic. “Is that a fucking sock?”
Changbin shrugs. “Yeah.”
“That’s disgusting, what the hell are you—”
“We can’t afford a pop filter,” Jisung interjects. “It’s not as effective as the real thing, but it works fine for our shit. Also it’s, like, clean.”
Chan looks around; really looks around. A laptop has been hooked up to his existing sound system, the mic surrounded by acoustic foam taped to cardboard— rudimentary as it is, he can’t deny the resourcefulness. Near the laptop is a compact mixer Chan knows to be worth ten times his own. The audiophile in him takes over.
“Holy shit.” He moves to it, brushes Jisung’s shoulder. “You can’t afford a pop filter but you can afford this?”
“That’s why we can’t afford the filter, man,” Changbin says.
It’s so pretty. So expensive. So—
“Don’t touch!” Jisung shrieks. “I spent so long setting this up, hyung. I don’t want to kill a senior today.”
“Right. Sorry.” Chan backs up, scratches his nape. “I’ve never seen trainees with kit like this.”
“That’s because no trainee is as loaded as Changbin hyung.”
“I’m not loaded, man. I get an allowance like everyone else. Quit it with that shit.”
“A huge allowance—”
Changbin's lips curl back over his teeth, left fist raised. “I’ll show you something huge in a goddamn minute.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, hyung.”
Cute. First impression implies they have a nice relationship. Makes Chan feel all warm and shit. Especially when Jisung smiles at him, crooked teeth and puffy cheeks.
“You two, uh, produce your own stuff?” Chan asks. Cool as a cucumber.
Changbin nods. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. I mean; I try.”
“Can we hear something?” Jisung asks, eyes alight. Changbin’s brow quirks.
“I’m not—” Chan hesitates. Doesn't like the way they’re looking at him. Too much hope. “I don’t really share my stuff.”
Jisung’s face falls.
“Because, like... I just don’t know if it’s any good. I mean, it sounds good to me, but people can be picky with their tastes, you know? I just don’t want to—”
“Try us, man,” Changbin smiles. “We might surprise you.”
𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 >
𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 ♡ >
< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >