⨠call me echo! (or mg :) ⨠they/them ⢠twenty-four ⢠ot7 𫶠⢠masterlist
260 posts
Oh My GOSH YES
oh my GOSH YES
Not me stalking your whole blog because I just found you and am a little in love with you š You mentioned PokĆ©mon and I must know: which PokĆ©mon is each member of Bangtan? (Can I be š„?)
oh fuck! watch me spend more time on this than i did writing foresight šµāš« iām sticking to first gen/evolutions, and going purely off vibes here. and iām too tired to explain my thought process, so youāll just have to trust me!!!
namjoon: mew
seokjin: pikachu
yoongi: cubone
hobi: mr. mime
jimin: itās jigglypuff, okay??
taehyung: squirtle
jungkook: ditto
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More Posts from Echotoyou
the āi miss boongi šā set
oh my LORDY I AM STILL PROCESSING
wow this read like an entire series i am constantly impressed by the writing genius that is m š«
1. āsinning through the act of worship.ā
*cough cough* WHAT
2. āYou bloom for him, pretty and pliantā
BESTIE i am on the FLOOR with this imagery every single word is perfection
3. āhe canāt stop thinking that your body is art, a relief sculpture of curves against soft white bedding, a carved out and fucked out beauty.ā
see above bc holy moly i am breathless!!!! the descriptive imagery has me by the throat i simply adore how much attention is given to the atmosphere and moments like this
4. āHeās all determination when he wants to be, synapses hard as steel, can shove down desire and self-hatred and something too desperate to quite be love until it goes still again and he can put the smile back on.ā
š©š©š© HOBIIIIII
i simply canāt get over this fic itās elegant and an incredible mix of angst and beauty. i feel like heās walking through a museum and canāt touch the art that is the reader (absolutely gut wrenching)
5. āto muffle the animal sound of shame and need, a force of habitā
ajkxsbjiwksn š« he deserves the world
6. āGuilt is a bitter chaser to pleasureā
THIS LINE FUCKS SO HARD oh my GOSH i feel like someone reached into my soul and ripped something out thank YOU VERY MUCH
7. āHis chest constricts in the way thatās become so familiar itās almost soothingā
this line reminds me so much of the vine imagery in nabioliveās (excellent) dollhouse series and lemme just say
FUCK
(that is all.)
haha i kid i kid but truly the idea of finding comfort in chronic pain is a heavy one. i hope that he gets to breathe deeply in the future (mayyyybe with the readerās help š)
last thoughts: i cannot believe this is only 1k. i was absolutely hooked from the first line through to the endā this fic is incredible.
self control (explicit)
genre: my first foray into angst !!!! with a side of smut~
pairing: hoseok x reader (imagined)
summary:Ā you'll never know the way hoseok really feels about you.
word count:Ā 1k
contains:Ā explicit sexual content ~ member POV, unrequited love, masturbation, imagined: [infidelity, cunnilingus, sex, choking, & dumbification if you squint], hobi is rly hard on himself :'( also a small allusion at the end to rituals around cleanliness or obsessive-compulsive tendencies
A/N:Ā please don't ask me what inspired this because i haven't a clue my friends š just deep in my cancer season/yearning feels over here I GUESS. but i let myself write a little differently to fit The Vibe and i think i like how it turned out~
i like don't even want to post this considering i just dropped so much on you (and i said i was on a break but shhhh the muse came for me), buuuuuut doing it anyway ack!!! ENJOY!!
this is also on AO3!
~*~
Hoseok makes himself sick when heās like this.
His hyungs warned him that this would hurt. He didnāt realize theyād meant it so literally. It physically hurts, a thumbprint-shaped bruise blossoming inside his chest, molded that way because he keeps fucking pressing on it, putting an ache in himself for no good reason, thinking of you, like this, like now.
He sees himself down on his knees in front of you, where he belongs, sinning through the act of worship. Begging some god he doesnāt believe in to forgive him, because he sure as hell isnāt forgiving himself, not when he isnāt even sorry.
So fucking insane, to be on the verge of tears and somehow stupidly horny at the same time. Make that make sense.
A hotel room on a high floor, a king-sized bed, egyptian cotton. Only the best for you, fuck a pricetag. The irony of infidelity framed in double-pane windows, city lights blinking impartially as he unzips your dress, says a prayer into your mouth, donāt have to tell anybody, just us, just tonight.
The way you want it, too. You bloom for him, pretty and pliant. At least thatās his hope.
He turns listlessly, his bedā his real bed in his new, too-big house, where every room throws an echo because he doesnāt have enough furniture to fucking fill itā suddenly hot, legs a frustrated tangle in the blankets, dick stirring to attention between them. He doesnāt want to be here (he doesnāt want to be anywhere, really, blipping out of existence for the night would be ideal), so he closes his eyes, lets himself sink back into it.
Just a little longer, then heāll be good.
Your hair fans out on the pillow beneath you, makeup a mess but youāre smiling anyway, breathless and raw and so real inside this fantasy. Reaching for him, fuck-me eyes, come on, insatiable, give it to me, need you nownownow.
He fucks you down into the plush hotel mattress, and he canāt stop thinking that your body is art, a relief sculpture of curves against soft white bedding, a carved out and fucked out beauty. His, tonight. Itās enough. More than.
The sheets are damp at the place where your bodies meet, arousal and sweat and saliva from nearly an hour spent between your legs (he loves the way they shake when youāre close) because heās learned that once he gets you started, you donāt stop coming.
He strokes deep because he loves the way you whimper with each pass, the way you squeeze tight enough to tear a growl from the back of his throat, heās fucking feral with it now. Braces himself on one hand while the other holds your throat but applies no pressure; he knows better than that, canāt have you going home marked up.
Hoseok is good for you, leaves no trace behind that wonāt wash off in the shower. He has excellent self control.
Excellent enough that he shouldāve ripped himself out of this dream already. Heās never let things go this far before, in his mind. Heās all determination when he wants to be, synapses hard as steel, can shove down desire and self-hatred and something too desperate to quite be love until it goes still again and he can put the smile back on.
But tonight feels different. Itās like he wants the pain, would elect to be gutted and splayed down the middle if only for proof that his heart remains there in his chest, beating quiet consistency.
Yes, like before, even now.
Just the same, even now.
Always, probably.
Heās hard, has been hard. Sticky sweet kisses of precum press over the inside of his briefs, then into the hollow of his stomach when he flips his length up, as if that might help.
He doesnāt want to touch himself. Itās another line heās yet to cross, the last thing he has to cling to when he needs to believe that he isnāt depraved, disgusting, for harboring all of this inside himself, carrying this pathetic torch for far too long.
But the thought of rutting into you, the little gasps you make, eyelashes fluttering and pussy quivering as he works yet another one out of you⦠Shit. Itās too much. When you tip up to find his lips with yours, whining nonsensically into his mouthā fucked too dumb to make any sense, he thinks he might not ever let you leave this room.
And that snaps his last thread of restraint.
Hoseok only needs to thrust up into his fist three times before his climax hits, painting over his stomach, chest, hand, sheets, fuck. He bites down so hard on his other palm that he threatens to break skin, all to muffle the animal sound of shame and need, a force of habitā he lives alone now, the walls of his empty house donāt give a fuck.
He comes like a virgin, he thinks to himself, critiquing a performance the second he steps off the stage as is his way. The thought that finally sent him over the edge was PG-13 at best: his tongue in the heat of your mouth.
He really does think he could get over all this if you kissed him, just once.
Embarrassing.
Guilt is a bitter chaser to pleasure, downed before bliss even shows up, if there was any. Heās a mess: emotionally, literallyā cum all over himself, the bedsheets too. Creepy, dirty, wrong.
His chest constricts in the way thatās become so familiar itās almost soothing, makes no fucking sense yet somehow it does. A self-invented problem he knows how to solve, a specific set of steps begging completion in perfect order.
Scalding-hot shower. Exfoliate. Lotion. Cleanser, toner, serum; wait for it to sink in. Sheets in the wash. Detergent, fabric softener. Vacuums the floor while heās at it. New sheets on the bed, hospital corners tucked sharp, pillows fluffed, immaculate. Back to the bathroom, moisturizer that he adds two drops of rose-hip oil to and mixes against the back of his hand, sleeping pack to lock it in.
He swears heās got new lines along the corners of his mouth, feels stupid that heās ruining his skin with smiles that arenāt even real.
He can exhale, then, still with a tight grip on the edge of the sink. Once itās all done, every trace of indiscretion cleaned up and put away, and heās good again. At least until the next time his self control slips.
holy moly make sure you have tissues nearby for this one (ok yes for that reason too but GET YO MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER)
(also massive spoilers read the fic first you monster)
this is a work of art: i am lying on the floor absolutely wrecked in pieces for so many reasons letās start with
1) āITS GOING TO BE OKAYā which weāve already covered in the comments i had to STOP reading the fic to say isahwijsjwkkama
2) i just canāt get over the good relationship she has with her mother (couldnāt be me um can anyone say mommy issues oops) and the supportive and comforting conversations they had during this chapter š
2b) HER MOM SAYING YOU GO GIRL AHHHHH i want them to end up together and literally this was the last barricade PLEASE IM BEGGING
3) also the smut in this chapter was top TIER holy shit um remember to breathe folks
4) i may have sobbed when she realized he wasnāt there. um. iām actually having emotions about him leaving without saying goodbye i know it was going to be hard but š©
5) anyway um this was a first for me so i really appreciate this fic dragging me out of the comments section and making a real post because @yoongiofmine deserves so much love š«¶š
Internal Conflicts | KSJ | Day Three
Pair: Kim Seokjin x f!readerĀ
Summary: Kim Seokjin was everything any girl could want in school . Handsome, kind, popular. Many girls in your class had a crush on the man; including you. Being a few years older than you meant that after he graduated, you didnāt think you would ever see him again. Fast forward to seven years later, the oldest clichĆŖ in the book: Your mother marries a man, the man has a son. That son was Kim Seokjin. And now, youāre coming home for a family trip to a cabin in the woods, with a very much awakening crush on the man that is now one hundred percent off limits. A shared bathroom, a snow storm, a small town. What could go wrong?
Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, non idol au, step brother (not related, not raised together, not weird)
Chapter Warnings: Smut, tears, angst, goodbyes. Our story is almost over! :(
WC: 13k
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[07:18]
Being woken up by a very annoyed Min Yoongi shaking you after snuggling up into Seokjin all night was not the best way to start your Sunday. You groaned and grumbled and tried to go back to sleep, but his rushed words made not only you, but the man next to you, jolt awake.Ā
āJesus fuck, you want to het caught?!ā he whisper-shouted. āYour parents just got here!āĀ
āOh, shitāā you were throwing the covers off of you in a second, getting up so fast that the whole world started spinning and if it wasnāt for Yoongi holding you, you would have fallen on your face. āWhatā whereāāĀ
āI think your mother was coming up the stairs.ā Yoongi was already pushing you into the bathroom you shared with Seokjin, so you could cross it and get out through the other door.Ā
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