#i cannot get this song out of my head it’s so good

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Junicrane/Starstruck Ramble

I will not be brief, all under the cut

To clear some things right off the bat:

No corpse, no proof with Juniper. Obligatory this is set in a canon where he's alive and adjacent to the agency in some way.

Reggie & Juniper are just gay to me, but I don't mind any interpretation of their sexuality

The games are set in 1967/68 to me (based on a couple bits in game) which is before it was legal to be gay in America at least (1971), which is relevant to how I interpret canon as being somewhat grounded in reality, despite unrealistic elements.

This is just an insane amount of headcanons/elements of and AU all culminated into one post. I will talk about some headcanons like they're just facts because they are established in my head, and it saves me over explaining literally everything, however I will explain some parts a little bit for clarity.

Alright. Actual beginning of the ramble:

Juniper is a character to me who had gotten so lost in his job as an actor and a social presence that in the end his whole life revolved around that 'role'. Because of this, by the time he's put into the situation where he's around the Agency, he basically knows nothing about himself, though he doesn't realise at first. Furthermore, what little identity he had has changed in so many ways. He's no longer a beloved famous actor in the prominence of public light, he's legally dead and he tarnished his career just before he was supposed to die, with the bonus of that making him lose the majority of his estate. From that, he also has horrific facial scarring from the electrical burns from literally having his face fried. I believe a friend of mine made a post about this a while ago (I also think they were the first to think it up also), but, to me, Juniper has a permanent trimmer in his right arm (aka his dominant hand) from the electrical current and it is messing with his nervous system.

All in all, he's not doing great, but he's too proud to admit that he's not doing great, because if anything, what's left of his ego is all he has as a defense since he's deep in unfamiliar water.

Before ending up around the agency (I have multiple interpretations of this, so I'm just going to bring it up generally), he'd never actually seen Reggie, and his only impression of him is a single voicemail, which was his only reference he had to later impersonate him. Juniper probably has very little feelings other than the ones he projects onto him because of Phoenix and that, at the very least, he's physically attracted to Reggie to some degree (that's like the beginning of how everything else would tumble into place in this sort of interpretation at least).

And on Crane's side? His feelings towards Juniper are probably very intense and muddled. On the one hand, he adores musical theatre, and that's his now ex-favourite actor. The thought of just casually being around him blows the bit of fanboy in him away at first because THAT'S the GUY, plus the inklings of a celebrity crush which still poke at him. And then there's the rational side of him, which knows Juniper has committed absolute atrocities on the side of Zoraxis, and hates him for that. Then there's how much Juniper comes off as an asshole at first because he refuses to cooperate with anything the Agency tried to put in place. He finds Juniper endlessly frustrating, and yet he's stuck working with him since, afterall, he's the one who knows the Agency's history with Juniper the best. I imagine him acting a lot like how he does IEYTD 1 around Juniper.

At this point, I'm just describing the pitch for a romcom.

I think the start of their relationship with one another largely started with Juniper trying to wind Crane up. It was a way of getting his attention, and I don't think Juniper knows why he's so dead set on that at first, because I don't think he realises he has a crush on 'this grump' at first. (I think that's actually the fun part about these two, because it's almost like a role reversal of the celebrity crush dynamic. This ex-big name actor has a TERRIBLE crush on an average joe and it is KILLING HIM.) But of course the Agency keeps them together because Juniper is at least conversing with Crane, so it's a start.

Through one way or another, they actually get talking casually, at least mildly at first. It takes Juniper a long time to fully deconstruct the wall he's built, and the thing is, Crane isn't the one trying to deconstruct it, at least at first, because yeah, Juniper realises if he wants Reggie to actually like him in any way, he can't keep winding him up. So they talk. Small talk at first, something rhythmic and almost easy to keep to a script. And over time that turns into actual conversations. Genuine ones in which Reggie rips out the occasional one of his jokes which Juniper is endlessly endeared about. The way he smiles just before he makes them, like he wants to chuckle at what he's about to say before he says it. That's probably when Juniper realised that he does have some vague crush on him, and that it wasn't going away.

This is what kickstarts John I can't-buy-you-things-to-impress-you-so-acts-of-service-it-is Juniper to do little things for him. It mostly starts off as him trying to make Reggie his tea how he likes it. However, the nerve damage in his arm makes that hard, as the weight of the kettle and trying to pour is hard all of a sudden. And he refuses to accept that, so he tries for a very long while. Long enough that Crane would go to investigate what was going on. And when he does see Juniper leaning over a cup with the kettle as he uneasily tries to pour it, and when Crane asks Juniper responds so matter-of-fact that his intention is nothing but genuine. And it catches Reggie off guard because Juniper hadn't done anything like that up to that point, and his very apparent vulnerability is so clearly on show.

It shifts something between them.

From that point on, conversations are longer, more familiar. Both of their attitudes soften, and Reggie makes more jokes. Juniper learns how to better use his left hand while strengthening his right back to a point where it could be used again. Slowly, they're both spending time with one another not because they have to, but just because they can. Little bits at first, not too far outside what they already were doing, but those little bits turned into long bits to a point where the other person's company was genuinely desirable.

As time passes, Juniper probably realises that he doesn't genuinely know much about himself or what hobbies he's into, because he never really had the time when he got big, and his home life in his youth wasn't bad, but it wasn't picturesque. I think Reggie would pick up on it, and absolutely try to introduce him to some things he's into. Some things stick, other things don't (corn husking very much stays Reggie's passion, and John will go with him sometimes because it's him, but it's not something he strongly cares for). Crane introduces him to a lot of music, and it's something that becomes a staple between them, with tracks they listen to more than others (tragically, I know relatively little about 60s music so I couldn't really say what). Occasionally they dance, never anything intense, think slow dancing, but the closeness is nice.

Through all of it, Juniper is battling the worst crush of his life, and he can't stand it, because I think he struggles to read people since he doesn't have anything like a script or a director to refer back to, so he has no idea if Reggie likes him back or if he's just desperate for that to be true. I think because of that any sort of confession between them would be incredibly raw, not only because of the time they live in making it hard for them to be truthful about how they love, but because it's a complete show of Juniper who's worked to be this better person. I don't exactly know how that would go, mainly because I don't have one set version of their dynamic, this post is just a generalisation of main consistent points.

Reggie does like him back, because he's gotten used to Juniper being just this guy, not a figure in the public eye, not a Zoraxis lackey, and not any sort of Agency operative (despite being under their care to some degree). He's someone he genuinely cares for, because they've given one another the time of day to learn one another, and I think because Reggie was a field agent, he was a lot better at reading Juniper than Juniper was at reading him. Eventually Juniper's company becomes something he could see around him for the rest of his life, and I think he accepts that he likes Juniper a lot more gracefully.

I think any affection directed at Juniper would at first be met with him feeling a little muddled. Reggie was a very physically affectionate person when he could be, and sure the initial flirting with one another came with the occasional little touches, but everything now was so deeply intentional. I also don't think Juniper would almost ever get over the novelty of being able to kiss him, or many other gestures, because it made the fact that they were together so very real, and it was great. I do think it comes easier to Reggie, and it's a big way of showing how much he cares, so it's important for Juniper to try and show it back because he knows how much it means to the other.

I like the idea of them eventually living with one another, too. I think Juniper would have always had a quiet little daydream of sorts where he does just live a domestic quiet life, and he can with Reggie (well, as close as they can get between the Agency and Zoraxis always being at odds), and he loves that, and he loves him, and it's immense.

I think they cook for one another a lot, it helps Juniper work on his dexterity in a controlled environment, which means a lot because it's a huge point of insecurity (that and his scars). He does improve, and Crane is proud of that and shows it and it's great. I also think they'd probably cook together too, because they can deal with being in the kitchen together and they work well with one another. It's probably a good way for them to unwind because over time they can do it in relative silence.

As I said before, I also think music is a staple in their household, and that Reggie listens to things on vinyl almost all of the time because he likes the background noise. Sometimes Juniper will catch him chuntering along to the music which he finds endlessly endearing. I wouldn't put it past his dramatic ass to also join in to fluster Reggie, but I also don't think Reggie would mind that terribly because Juniper has listened to the music enough to know the lyrics, and that's huge to him.

I don't think they are without rough patches, no relationship is, but I think the good part about them is that they're willing to talk about it (... eventually). They're used to long conversations, and while they're often less fun conversations, they're needed and they know that, and it works out.

Alright. I think I'm done for now. I haven't mentioned everything, but this definitely got the worst of it out of my system. If you ever want to hear any specific thoughts my ask box is open but other than that, behold my general dynamic for these two which has been festering in my head for years. I think they're great

#ty right-agent for explicitly telling me that this would be welcomed you a real one #i had a massive babble to my friend abt what if they all feed me to the hounds for speaking #and he said “girl that fandom is like 12 people big they need you to speak” and yeah that also helped #i have a hard time talking if I'm not asked/prompted to that's why i adding tags is great for me. that and i like the format #anyways. #THESE TWO.............dear lord can you tell I have been unwell abt them forever.. #this is propeganda (/j) for them. btw. please you have to understand the potential here. it's so good. #it's slowburn <- my (probably) demiromantic ass cannot handle romance without a build up and this set up is perfect (it will never happen) #also i find it easier to write ANYTHING between these two from Juniper's perspective because i find it easier to get into his head #idk reggie is like the gay version of the: what is he thinking of? i could take a bear in a fight. audio ive heard. #whereas with juniper i have him trapped under a microscope #im going to tag this now so i can use the remaining tags to RANT #ieytd #john juniper #reginald crane #junicrane #starstruck #i expect you to die #<- being BRAVE!!! #when I get really excited i start getting like this internal shaking feeling and uh. yeah this rant started that #the worst part abt that is it also triggers my tourettes so like. double whammy. excited about blorbos? jail :( #but. yeah I uh. yeah. sorry this IS so long..I did warn but . AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHHAUUUUUUAHHHHHHHHHHHHH #also i did this rant in 2 parts. last night and this morning so yeah uh. yeah. #god im so messed up about these two #make me a boat by the family crest came on while wroting this and while it's mainly a roxanix song to me......AUUUUUG..... #i struggle to find music for these sillies because they have such a specific vibe to me amd I've not quite managed to find something which - #- genuinely feels correct for them and it drives me up the WALL #GOD NIGHT SHIFT JUST CAME OF SHUFFL.....all my ieytd songs are coming out to drive me up the wall....... #FINISHED I've been adding tags as I've gone alonga #thank you for reading hope you enoyed and if you didn't im sorry

[froginthestars]

I think about “history of man” at least once a day because the way this song is written and all the references are just so perfect!!

#So happy I get to see it live this year #history of man #this song is so good #i cannot get it out of my head #music #maisie peters #so so good

[ethereal-maia]

I SAVE YOU A SEAT AND THEN YOU SAY YOU WANNA STAND

SO YOULL LOSE ME

THE BEST YOU EVER HAD

IN THE HISTORY

THE HISTORY OF MAN

@bloody-mf-bsc hii guess what my favorite song on the album is

#it’s history of man btw #Holy Fucking Shit #what a song #cannot get it out of my head and I’m not even annoyed by it good lord it’s so amazing #OHH I GET YOUR USERNAME NOW HAHA #i thought it was some obx thing cause I know you like that show idk but now I get it!!

[le-velo-pour-dru]

Money by Jazz Emu is stuck in my head BAD rn, um. go listen to it it is so good :3 💖

#dru speaks #I CANNOT GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD RN XD 💖 #it's a really good song though so. not the worst thing that could happen to me :3 💖

[fuckoptimism]

I SHOULD PROBABLY QUIT SMOKING

IT AINT GOOD FOR MY HEALTH

BUT NEITHER ARE YOU MY DARLING

I DONT NEED YOUR HELP

- MOONEY

#mooney #i fucking cannot get this song out my head #it’s so fucking good #bro #THIS SONGGGG

[propertyofwicked]

speed demon - LN

warnings: speeding + dangerous driving, references to sex

short fluff :) fewtrell!reader -> can be read as a stand alone or an extra to the secrets series!

my take on a BTS of the quadrant athletes video with willne and bambinobecky :) p.s hey caitlin i know ur reading this

lando’s girlfriend was a concerning driver. growing up in the english country side, especially with her racing-mad brother max, she became very accustomed to driving at insane speeds down backroads, learning where the swerve potholes and where all the cameras were. honestly, put her in an f1 car with a good song and watch max verstappen crumble.

her brother and his friend could speed around race tracks, y/n preferred real roads.

the only flaw in her driving ability arose when lando, who notoriously hates being a passenger, sat to her left, gripping any hard surface he could as his girlfriend threw her car around a corner.

“y/n, angel, you know i love you - but why do you drive like you had somewhere to be 10 minutes ago?”

“this is a good song,” she answered with a shrug, which only confused him further, yet she slowed down, glancing at the man besides her, “it’s got a good bassline. you literally drive at like 200 miles an hour and yet you’re getting stressed about me going 80 on an empty road?”

“the difference between you and me is that i wear a helmet when i drive that fast.”

“no one is stopping you from putting a helmet on in my car, lan.”

“erm, i think the national speed sign meaning 60mph should be enough that i shouldn’t need to wear a helmet in your car y/n.”

“god you’re so dramatic, lando - has anyone ever told you that?”

“yes. you. the last time i complained about your driving, you little speed demon,” he said, finally laughing quietly at the situation.

in fact, they were late. they were supposed to be at a quadrant shoot in 10 minutes, but still needed to pick up will and becky from the station near to the warehouse they were filming in. when they finally reached the station, lando jumped out of the car to meet them, leaving y/n to sit in silence, queuing a few songs for the short journey to the shooting location.

“y’alright y/n?” will asked, climibing into the back seat of her car, becky climbing in from the other side.

“i’m good, thank you will. how are you?”

“im good, however i’ll let you know how i feel after ive experienced your driving,” he joked, earning a guilty chuckle from lando who was buckling himself back into the passenger seat. her hand rose, slapping his arm lightly.

“hey! my driving is not that bad.”

“let them find that out for themselves, angel,” he responded, dramatically rubbing his arm, feigning pain. she ignored him, shoving the car into gear before jamming her foot onto the accelerator, the loud engine loud enough to wake the dead.

when they did arrive at the shoot, will had gone silent, his face paler than usual. becky was still smiling and chatting, but her face conveyed the same level of fear as wills. the group of them walked into the warehouse, where max was already waiting.

y/n walked up to max, taking him in a small embrace before stepping back to let him greet the rest of the group.

“will? you good man? you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” max said, taking a step back to look at the man a second time.

“yeah, yeah, im good,” he responded, smiling sheepishly. y/n absentmindedly played with her car keys, the jingling of her key rings raising max’s attention.

“lando let you drive? jesus, no wonder will looks like he needs a fresh pair of trousers,” max laughed, doubling over.

“why does everyone think im such a bad driver? i have not crashed once. never. not a single crash. the same cannot be said for you or lando, max,” she exclaimed, beginning to feel offended at the accusations.

“in all fairness, lando warned me. i thought he was joking when he said she loved the accelerator more than she loves him,” will replied, the colour coming back to his face as he smiled. max shook his head at his sister again, before directing will and becky round to the sofas, running them through the plans for the day.

y/n felt a warm pair of arms snake around her body from behind, lando’s head coming to rest on her shoulder. he turned his head to look at her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

“im not actually a bad driver, am i?” she mumbled to him.

“no angel, people are just jealous of your sheer ability to drive at dangerous speeds and do it safely,” he responded, he meant to be sincere but y/n could feel the sarcastic undertones.

she shook her head at him, pulling away from his embrace, but his hand reached out, latching onto hers, before pulling her back into him. this time her chest melted into his, her head tilting to glance up at him.

“i hate this scarf,” she announced, but stretched her neck up to presses soft kisses along his jaw.

“ouch. why? i like it.”

“’cos it covers your neck. i love your neck,” she said, smiling up at him again.

“i know you do angel. your love for my neck is the reason i have to wear a scarf for the shoot today,” he said, laughing, his hands moving from her back to push loose strands of her behind her ears. a blush rose up her cheeks at the memory of the night before, as her fingers moved to pull the scarf down slightly looking at the bruises beginning to darken on his skin.

she hadn't meant to, but she had found herself on top of him last night, legs straddling him as his pushed up into her. with max only a room over, she needed to find an outlet for the noises she wanted to make and his neck fell victim.

“whoopsies. but im sure the lando girlies would love to see you with hickies.”

“i’m sure they would,” he said, grinning at her still and nodding slightly, “im sure your brother would love it to,” he added sarcastically, glancing over to the man in question who was now handing becky a script.

she tutted in response, pulling his scarf back up to covering his neck. lando’s head tilted down to look at her again, using his hands on her jaw to pull her face up closer to his. his lips pressed soft kisses to her forehead and cheeks before finally planting a soft but quick peck to her lips.

“lando did you want to stop getting it on with my sister and come and do your job?” max bellowed from across the room, pulling the two apart.

lando decided he should probably drive the two of them home that day, and let max take the others back to the station, but the moment the car moved off from where it was parked, he stalled the engine.

"formula 1 driver but can't drive a manual without stalling it. that's embarrassing - now who can't drive?" she joked, laughing at him as he restarted the ignition.

"still you," he replied bluntly, his foot slamming down on the accelerator sending the car flying across the car park.

"please don't destroy my car," she begged quietly at the sound of her engine about to take off, "a man i quite like bought it for me and id hate to make him angry when he has to buy me new tyres."

"ill just buy you another car," he joked as he returned to the speed limit of the road ahead, his hand moving from the gear stick to rest on her thigh, grabbing lightly at it.

"you're not a bad driver, you know that, don't you angel?" he said after a few minutes of silence. he'd admit that she wasn't the best driver, but she was still skilled even if slightly reckless.

"i know," she said, her voice still heavy with the annoyance from everyone's teasing.

"you would be great at karting, you know?"

"stop it - i spent my entire childhood trying to avoid karting please do not bring it into my adulthood," she begged, albeit jokingly.

"why did you avoid it? im sure max would've loved to race with you," lando asked, glancing to his side to look at her face, her head leaning on the door panel.

"it was max's thing, i guess. i didn't want to do what he did. i wanted to be my own person. i still do," she said with a shrug. lando's hand moved from her thigh to grab hers, pulling it up to his face to press a kiss to the back of it.

"i'm glad you're unapologetically you. i don't think i could cope with two max's in my life. or two of you for that matter."

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister

[jamminvroomvroom]

something in the orange.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando can’t always have what he wants. and neither can you.

i’m so back! missed u xoxo i kinda hate this with a passion but i had to force myself to write something bc i was getting the writers jitters lmao. pls tell me what you think and what you want next! hugs

inspired by: something in the orange by zach bryan (ouch)

songs to set the mood: call out my name by the weeknd, all of evermore actually, leave the door open by the silk sonic

warnings: 18+!! minors, BEGONE!! smut, angst, wee bits of fluff, language, alcohol mentions, inappropriate workplace relationship (reader is an engineer @ mcl), slight age gap (r is older), mutual pining, mutual denial (kinda), unprotected sex (L bozo)

3.2k words

the first time it happens doesn’t really count.

you’re drunk and lando’s worse. tensions boil over at some after party, neither of you can bare it, and he’s shoving his key card into the slot of his door while he sloppily kisses your neck. you cannot take

any responsibility for your actions that night and disregard it as a write off.

explaining away the morning after, when you fuck him again, sober and begging, is a different story.

oh, well.

it happens again. and again, and again, and again.

different cities set the mood and the danger turns you on. you trade your mclaren administrated work shirt for lingerie, and your inhibitions for good sex.

he’s younger, just a couple of years between you, but he doesn’t show it. he makes you forget it, every single time he rearranges your spread limbs on a mattress. he makes you forget his age, and the fact that careers will be over as soon as another soul finds out what you get up to when the chequered flag falls.

lando makes it easy. a flick of the wrist and a curl of the tongue makes you sob, and he smirks into the crease of your thighs every time. and when it’s over, and you’re both spent under linen sheets, you can’t even regret it. not when he makes you laugh until you cry and keeps you warm as you drift off to sleep on the rare occasions that you let yourself stay.

it can’t continue. it can’t, you tell him and yourself. every morning after is punctuated with promises that this is the end. and every time, you manage without each other until the next race weekend, when he looks at you in that knowing way that makes your thighs clench.

-

lando can’t think straight.

he never can when he slides between your thighs. it feels like home.

you’re somewhere in the middle east, he can’t actually remember where right now, not when he pushes deeper and you clamp down around his cock, so hard that he chokes out a shaky breath.

“how do you feel even better every time?” lando groans, grinding into you nice and slow.

you slur out a moan in response, tipping your head back even further as you do. it gives him the perfect opportunity to burrow into your neck, kiss over your collarbone, rock into you harder.

everything is warm, slick. this whole situation, it’s a well oiled machine now. lando sends a text and you turn up five minutes later. he ushers you into the room and then, clothes leave a trail from the door to the foot of the bed. what was once a place holder, a way to get some after a shitty race, had become something to look forward to, something that made his heart race. the anticipation, the danger of you made him weaker than he ever had been.

at first, he hated the hold you had on him. it didn’t mean that he could end this, though, not when he couldn’t help but stare at you in the garage. not when he was transfixed by the glimpse he’d get of your collarbone under your work blouse, or the stray hairs that fell over your face when you were concentrating on the data screens.

“lando, i need- i need…” you gasp, trailing off as you arch even further into his sweat glistening body.

lando smirks, sliding a hand down your

body, pinching your nipple on the way. he already knows what you need. he finds your clit, teasing over it a couple of times.

you lock eyes, warning him to give you what you want. he just grins, licks his lips and continues faint glides over the bud. it sends shockwaves over your body, and you convulse underneath him. you writhe, and writhe, and whimper and keen as your orgasm washes over you. his eyes snap shut, barrelling into you as the pleasure hits.

then, there’s silence.

he lays on top of you while you both return to planet earth, no sound but pants of breath and a soft hum from you when he finally pulls out. you smile softly when you rise from the bed, swinging your shaky legs over the side to stand.

“you staying?” lando breathes. he’s laying on his front, arms flexed as they cross beneath his head.

“not tonight, lando.” you tilt your head apologetically, voice soft and sweet. he frowns. you ignore it, and search for you underwear.

“come on, stay.” he sounds desperate to his own ears, cringing at the way the words come across, but your filter it out. you’ve become an expert at navigating - and more often than not, ignoring - the emotional strings that he tugs on. the ones that attach to your cold, cold heart.

“can’t. you’re gonna have the team here bright and early. ‘m not risking jon seeing me here when he comes to wake you up.” you explain, jumping into your jeans as you tug them up your legs.

“he won’t care.” lando argues, childlike in his negotiating.

“i care.” you scold. you hear the soft thud of his head hitting the pillows. you know you’ve won this round.

lando’s quiet for a while after that, letting you dress yourself. as you’re searching for the bag that you can’t remember if you brought or not, he springs from the bed, making a beeline for the door. you think he’s being gentlemanly, but quickly realise you’re being foolish. the fucker is blocking your exit.

“lando.” you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms, unimpressed.

“i know, i know, i’m gonna let you go. i just…” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, pondering his next words.

“you just…” you usher him along.

“i’ll let you go if you promise to have dinner with me over the summer.” he smirks.

“are you… have you lost the plot?” your eyes almost bulge out of your head.

he tried this, sometimes, tried to get you to go on a date, or get you to do something alone that didn’t involve engineering or a surface that you could fuck on. you’d naively thought he was past this.

“can we just try?” he gives you a look somewhere between i want you so bad and the infamous lando norris puppy dog eyes. lava heats your cheeks and your belly, and the butterflies come out of hibernation. you couldn’t deny, you wanted to try. but, at what cost?

“text me.” you murmur, gesturing for him to move.

“so, that’s a yes?” lando questions.

“text me, and i’ll think about it.”

he decides that he’s gotten the best possible answer out of you, and finally let’s you make your great escape.

you almost collapse on jelly-like knees the second the door shuts behind you. standing your ground with him was getting too difficult, too tiresome. the boy was hard fucking work, and he always got what he wanted.

you’d often daydreamed about him taking you out, getting dressed up nice to sip wine and eat too expensive food, and eventually getting undressed. you realised, however, that those kinds of thoughts were to be banished, after you got caught up in fantasies during a race and almost had the pit crew put mediums on during a bout of rain.

wanting him was dangerous. it could be career ending, reputation destroying, heartbreaking.

one date wouldn’t hurt, just to satisfy his appetite. he’d probably get bored eventually. you wouldn’t let it get further than one meal, one last night with him, and then it would stop.

one more time. just one.

-

you’re waiting on your sofa for the text that tells you he’s arrived.

your hair is curled, messy. just how he likes it. you’re wearing something short and black. your high heel taps against the floor as you bounce your leg nervously.

he’d texted, just like you’d told him to, and then a date was set. just one dinner, one time only. you were gonna tell him that, too.

it’s a bit of fun, you think. dinner and shag. companionship. it was lonely on the road, and sometimes each other was all you could have. it made sense, you figured, that he had honed in on you. you’d done the same to him.

just when you think he’s late, there’s a knock on your door. you were an expecting an “i’m here” text, not the full package. after all, this date was just a formality, right?

you try not to shake as you make your way to the door. lando looks so good that you almost cave and say, “sure, let’s give this a go, eh?”. he’s wearing a shirt that fits painfully well, clinging nicely to a delectable frame. the buttons he’s left undone provide a gorgeous window to his collarbone and the necklaces that hang from his thick neck.

“you look beautiful.” he compliments, rakes his eyes over your body.

“don’t look so bad yourself.” you try to tease but it comes out flustered. you ignore the way his eyes light up.

“you ready?” he asks, you nod.

your heart flutters when he effortlessly takes your hand in his.

-

the restaurant is in the middle of nowhere, and you’re the only two people dining. maybe it’s because of the ‘closed’ sign that gets placed on the door when you arrive. so, he’s gone all out, you think. you’re shocked at how hard he’s tried to keep this private. maybe this isn’t the formality you think it is, maybe this isn’t his way of feeling better about meaningless sex. maybe it wasn’t as meaningless as you pretended it was.

he had you belly laughing within minutes, laying the charm on thick. wine and conversation flowed effortlessly and you were quickly regretting saying yes to this. you were in danger.

in a moment of silence, you catch his eye from across the table.

“you know, this is a one time thing, right?” you almost whisper. you almost kick yourself, why would you say that now? it doesn’t even phase him.

“that’s what you think.” he grins, devilish and stunning.

“i mean it.” you smirk.

“sure you do, honey.” he says, it sounds a lot like ‘game on’.

-

you stir, eyes slowly fluttering open. orange light washes over you, dancing in the pair of eyes you find staring back at you.

the eyes watching you sleep belong to the same person whose strong arms are wrapped around you, nice and secure.

you croak out a good morning, and he grins at how hoarse you sound. it was all his fault for making you whimper and scream, begging and crying for a release.

the date had gone really well.

“coffee?” lando offers.

“just the one, need to get home.” you bring things back to reality.

two coffees and four orgasms later, you head home.

-

the blurry pictures of you and him leaving the restaurant make you ill.

no one can quite tell it’s you, not yet anyway. twitter is ablaze.

faceless accounts call the blurry woman in the pictures the cruelest of names. you cry for hours, and then you stop for a bit, cry some more. rinse, repeat.

you pull on a jacket, scramble for your car keys. this time, you’ll mean what you say.

-

there’s a knock on the door.

when he opens it, you shuffle inside like you always do, coat hangs on the hook with a scarf to match. silence lingers until you reach the kitchen. the kettle hisses. you didn’t even know that he knew how to use one.

“this has to stop.” you say. emotionless. inside, agony sinks into every emotional cut and scrape. you don’t let him notice.

“i know.” he agrees. he’s seen the pictures, too. “okay.”

the kettle is forgotten, two mugs abandoned; he carries you to bed.

one last time.

-

two fingers loosen you up for him, drawing you steadily over the edge. he doesn’t stop there, no. he slows right down, letting you ride out your high, but only for a second. he speeds up once again, grinding his fingers into you at godspeed, and you feel your eyes dampen with tears.

your entire body glistens with sweat and your release, the overstimulation making your toes curl and your back arch. you wonder if the tears streaming down your face are just a result of the way his fingers are curling so deliciously against your walls, so good that it hurts, or if it’s because you know this will be the last time he gets his hands all over you.

“lando,” you cry, grasping at nothing. he’s got you naked in the middle of his bed, and he’s still fully clothed, kneeling between your spread thighs like a man on a mission.

his motivation is to make you stay, to make you regret the fact that once this is over, you’re choosing not to come back. his need for you, that raging desire that fuels your every encounter, it has only increased tenfold since the night of your date. but lando isn’t stupid, he knows that after those photos were published the brakes were on this… thing. this was his only chance to convince you to keep this going, but he was fighting a losing battle.

“what do you want, honey? you want me?” lando grunts, speeding up even more. you didn’t think that what he was doing was humanly possible, but the stars you saw and the way your body was practically levitating off the bed said otherwise.

“only gonna have me one last time? is that really what you want, baby?” he continues to run his mouth, crooning over you. you call out his name, begging. begging for another release, begging that you could stay here forever. with him.

and then you see white and god, and you convulse until you’re collapsing into the mattress. your vision is blurry from the tears and the haze and the unwavering emotional torment.

you grab at him, languidly pulling him in. it takes all the strength you have left to secure him, your feet shoving his jeans down his hips while your hands rip his t-shirt off. you’re keening, too sensitive and too needy. you’re agonising over his touch, you need him to sink so deeply into you, so that you can feel him when it’s over and you’re far away from what almost feels like home.

his breath shakes and his eyes gloss over when he pushes into you.

“let me stay like this, just for a minute.” he chokes out. you nod rapidly, your eyes squeezing shut. he kisses into the crook of your neck, panting and mumbling sweet, painful words over and over.

your hands run over golden planes of warmth and muscle, memorising every dip and crease of him. he slowly rolls his hips and your belly clenches, veins set alight. one of his hands scoop up up your wrist, and the motion creates a deep grind unlike anything you’ve ever felt. your wrists are pinned above your head and lando hovers over you so that he stays level, continuing that slow grind, hips hitting yours hard and slow.

he draws a low whine from the back of your throat, one that makes his hips stutter and your pussy clamp down on him as a pleasurable result. you can feel fingerprints forming around the tender skin of your wrists and you want him to dig in harder, slip into your veins and become a permanent part of you.

lando’s eyes are greyer than you’ve ever seen them, boring into your own. you don’t think you ever break eye contact, staring deep into his soul as he stretches every possible part of you. he doesn’t want this to end, you can’t pretend that you do, either.

he changes his angle slightly, long strokes replacing the short drags, but he keeps hitting deep. something possesses you to lean in, as much as you can given his hold on you, and you capture his lips in a kiss that takes him aback for a second. he melts into it, though, and then you’re chest to chest. tongues meet, and moans meld, your legs snake around him like vines.

“need you to come for me, honey. one last time, yeah? need you to feel good for me, baby.” lando mumbles into your mouth, wet and hushed. it’s overwhelming, and everything goes blank. all you are aware of is the burst of pleasure, his hold on your limp wrists, and two grey green eyes that are begging you to stay.

-

you get dressed quickly, whisper goodbye, and disappear out the door. something stops you, and you need clarity, for him more than for yourself.

you peek round the door, finding his unwavering gaze. your forehead creases, awkward anguish. the way you’re looking at him, deep and sympathetic, it makes you ache. this may well have to be the last time you look at him this intently. it stings.

“it’s better this way, you know?” you murmur.

lando nods, begrudgingly, yet obediently in defeat.

and then, once more, you’re gone and the latch on the door clicks somewhere far away in his apartment. he sinks into the bed, drowning in bed sheets and agony. his head thuds against the pillow and he stares out the window. the orange sunset makes his eyes burn. there’s something about the colour that makes him nauseous now that you’re gone.

-

a few days later, you’re in a meeting that you can’t focus on. he’s sat opposite you, not that you spare him a glance. it’s too painful.

you’ve been here for hours, your body becoming one with the office chair that you’re sinking deeper and deeper into.

yes, the car needs to be faster. yes, your heart hurts. yes, we need to up the strategy game.

you zone out, for the umpteenth time, losing yourself in the dark orange sky. it’s getting late. you crave sleep in your lonely bed. while you stare at the swirls and hues of warmth, you shiver.

lando, on the other hand, hasn’t heard a word said since he sat down. not when his eyes instantly find bruised wrists on the other side of the table. they match the bruises on his heart, the ones that you’d left behind when you’d grabbed it, stolen it from its solitude cage.

he watches you watch the sunset, and then the meeting is dismissed and everyone rushes home for dinner.

“who was that you took for dinner, then, noz?” one of the mechanics jeers at lando as you’re leaving the boardroom. those damned fucking photos would never let you sleep well again.

you’re a couple of steps ahead of them, ears perked up. you’re nauseous.

“no one you know.” lando laughs uncomfortably, waving it off. he sounds exhausted.

you fight with the revolving door and rush to your car. you scream as soon as the door slams and you’re in the drivers seat. you thrash against the steering wheel, and then you scream again.

when you compose yourself, and pull out of your parking space, you notice lando’s range rover ahead of you. when you get to the end of the drive, he will turn left, towards london, and you will turn right.

the devil on your shoulder murders the angel in cold blood, silencing the only voice of reason you had left.

when you reach the junction, you turn left, too.

-

yikes. anyways lmao

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane

removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #lando norris one shot #lando norris oneshot #lando norris imagine #f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #f1 angst #formula 1 smut #formula 1 fic #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine #writing things #f1

[honeyedmiller]

Sweet | Joel Miller

joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

warnings: established relationship, no outbreak!joel, smut (f!oral receiving, unprotected piv, body praise with joel’s skillful mouth), fluff, no use of y/n.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: listen, i cannot get hozier’s too sweet out of my head, so naturally, this is the outcome of that. this one shot doesn’t correlate with the song one hundred percent, but the concept is there.

synopsis: it’s a lazy sunday and joel can’t help but want his coffee in bed with a side of you.

i take my whiskey neat; my coffee black and my bed at three; you’re too sweet for me

- too sweet, hozier

Joel wasn’t the type to sleep in. Even on his off days, he’d be up bright and early to brew you both a cup of coffee to kickstart the day. It was a one in a million chance you’d ever be up before him, and that day just so happened to be today. 

You opened your eyes slowly, only to be met with the sight of a sleeping Joel next to you. His chest rose and fell in steady, even breaths. His lips were slightly parted and his usual furrowed brows of worry were relaxed. His dark eyelashes fell upon his cheeks without a single sign of stirring awake, and the morning sun highlighted his tan skin. 

You were missing those beautiful brown eyes of his, and part of you wanted to wake him, but you let him rest. He’d had a long week at work and the last thing you wanted to do was deprive him of much needed sleep. 

You carefully maneuvered out of bed, cautious to not wake Joel. An old Miller Contracting shirt fell over your body and barely landed over the tops of your thighs, and for a moment you contemplated putting on some sweats, but ultimately decided against it. 

The carpet was plush beneath your bare feet as you tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. It was just you and Joel this weekend with Sarah being over at a friend’s house until later in the evening, and Tommy on a trip with his girlfriend Maria. 

The house was quiet aside from the ticking of the clock that sat atop the mantle in the living room. It was odd, because you were used to the good kind of chaos in the Miller household. 

You grabbed Joel’s favorite mug from the cupboard and the coffee grounds he preferred, starting up the coffee maker. It was done brewing after a few minutes, so you carefully took the mug in your hand and moved even slower than before to avoid spilling coffee on yourself or on the carpet. 

You made it up to the bedroom once more, Joel still fast asleep. The sight made your heart melt and a smile curled onto your lips as you made your way up to him. Your eyes landed on the alarm clock that sat on his bedside table, reading 9:45 a.m. 

He’d be distraught if you let him sleep in any later, so you set his coffee mug down and leaned into his body, lips gently pressing onto his cheek. 

“Joel, baby, wake up.” Your voice was soft and laced with sleep. Your hand landed on the side of his face gently, caressing his cheekbone as you gave his forehead a kiss. 

His eyes scrunched tight before opening them, gaze finding yours as you stood above him. A panicked look crossed his features as his eyes flit to the time on the clock, and he curses under his breath. He rubs his eyes and sits up, looking up at you again. 

“Baby,” He starts, voice raspy and deep, “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” 

“You needed rest, Joel. You were exhausted.” 

The corner of his mouth twitches up in silent gratification, and his eyes shift to his bedside table once more as his senses are filled with the delicious smell of black coffee. 

“Y’made me a cup?” 

You nod and offer him a small smile. He grins and reaches out for you, gripping your hips. He silently encourages you to join him in bed, so you straddle his own hips as your hands land gently on his bare chest. 

It’s rare when he got to have coffee in bed, but he secretly loves it. He carefully takes the cup and sips from it slowly, setting it down again before his hands find purchase on your hips once more. 

“Mornin’ gorgeous.” He grins as he leans up, connecting his lips to yours. Your hands slide into his curls, keeping him there just a bit longer. 

“Morning, handsome.” You say against his lips, pecking them two more times before you separate from him. 

“Nuh uh, where you goin’?” He grips your flesh tighter in the slightest, sliding you forward onto him. You feel the growing bulge beneath his gray sweats that adorn the bottom half of his body, and you can’t help but bite your lip as you stare down at him. 

A pit of fire of pure want and desire burns low in your core. Arousal easily coats the fabric of your panties, and it takes everything in you not to grind yourself down on him for the friction you desperately seeked. 

He knew it, too. Joel’s smug smirk was tell-all, knowing he had you right where he wanted you: aching and hungry for him. 

Bastard. 

“What’s’a matter, baby?” His teased, and you huffed out a breath of air for dramatics, but you decided to play along. You pressed your clothed core down on his bulge, grinding yourself over him with the tiniest of movements. 

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as he feels your wetness through the goddamn fabric of his sweats.

You pry one of his hands from your hip, guiding it between your bodies so his fingers brush over your soaked panties. You hiss at the contact and a low groan evades his chest. 

“This,” You grind yourself onto his fingers, “This is what’s the matter with me, Joel. You gonna finish what you started?” Your voice was shaky as you forced yourself not to buck your hips against him. 

“Fuck–baby, you’re fuckin’ soaked. All for me? This what I do to ya?” He moves the fabric to the side so his middle finger runs through your slick folds, coating it in your arousal. 

“God, yes, Joel. This is for you, and only you. Always.” You couldn’t help but whine, wanting nothing more than his skillful mouth to take care of you before he stretched you deliciously full of his cock. 

“I know pretty girl, I know.” He coos, slipping his finger away from you to bring it to his mouth, sucking on it slowly. His eyes closed in pure ecstasy at your tangy sweet taste. 

He flips you both around so he’s on top of you now, easily sliding his shirt you were wearing over your body, tossing it onto the floor. 

“You’re so good to me, baby. Too sweet,” He slips your panties off and tosses them onto the floor next to the shirt before leaning down to kiss your neck, making his way down to your breasts. He’s attentive to your pert flesh, tongue swirling over one nipple while his hand rests on you as he rolls the other between his forefinger and thumb. You tug on his hair, a breathy moan escaping you as you roll your hips up into his body involuntarily. 

“So lovin’,” He whispers against your skin, mouth replacing his hand on your other nipple. His free hand skates down your body slowly causing goosebumps to arise. Your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers find your dripping folds once more, swirling his ring and middle finger around you. He releases your nipple with a small ‘pop’. “So genuine n’ kind,” 

His mouth moves languidly down your sternum and to your torso, tongue savoring the taste of your soft flesh. He makes it down to the tuft curls above your pubic bone, kissing you there once before moving to the inside of the apex of your thighs. He softly moans as he licks your arousal up from your thighs, biting your flesh gently before looking up at you. 

“So. Fuckin’. Sweet.” He emphasizes each word as his eyes move down to your glistening heat, and you can’t help but look at him with pleading eyes. The fire that stirred in your core was fully aflame now, silently screaming and begging him to put his tongue on you where you needed him most. 

He spreads your folds apart with his fingers, sliding his fingers through your slick a few more times before a strangled plea escapes you. 

“Please, Joel–” You’re never above begging him to pleasure you. You know he’ll take care of you, but the build up and anticipation was almost too much to bear. 

“I’ve got you, sweet girl.” 

And he’s on you. His tongue licks a strong line up from your entrance to your clit, and you can’t help but cry out at how fucking good it feels. 

Joel groans as his tongue swirls around your folds, sucking on them in the slightest before gripping your thighs and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He delves the muscle into your entrance, fucking it in and out of you at an increased pace. 

You’re panting now, hands gripping the haphazardly tossed-around sheets as you grind your hips into his face. 

“Thas’ it baby, use my face. Can’t help yourself, hm?” The teasing tone in his voice only makes you crave release further, arousal gushing out of your entrance once more. Joel can’t help but groan at the sight, licking up everything you give him.

 He hums against you as your body writhes on the mattress above him, and he slides his hands over you and interlinks them together to hold you down. You’re gripping his hair now, shoving his face into your needy, aching cunt as you chase your high that’s winding up tightly in your very core. 

He moves his tongue up, swirling the muscle around your clit before attaching his lips to suck the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

You inhale a sharp breath and grip his hair tighter, a string of curses spilling from your mouth before he uses just the tip of his tongue to flick over your clit impossibly fast. 

“Joel, fuck, please don’t stop–don’t stop don’t stop,” You plead, and he listens. He keeps his pace the same, and your hips still as your orgasm washes over you, flame igniting your whole being. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you ride out the intensity of your release, hands moving down to grip his shoulders. 

“I got you baby. So fuckin’ pretty when you come. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, like nectar from a peach in the summertime.” He says, kissing your thighs and your cunt once more before moving up your body. 

He settles himself between your legs once more, and you tug at the waistband of his sweats. He discards them onto the floor with the rest of the clothes, kissing you deeply as his body covers yours with his own. 

You both moan into the kiss, the taste of coffee and your arousal on his tongue. He ruts his hips into yours, coating his stiff, aching cock in your slick, and you gasp at the slight overstimulation. You want more, though. Your body always wants more when it comes to Joel. 

You can never seem to get enough of him, and he, you. The temptation was too sweet to resist, and you’d both be damned if that day ever came around. 

“I love you, sweetheart.” Joel murmurs, nosing at your jaw before kissing your neck. His hands grip your arms gently and move them to rest above your head, and he slots his fingers into yours you give him a soft, satiated smile. 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

And he’s yours. You keep your eyes locked on each other as he slides home, pushing into your warm heat that wraps around him and welcomes him without fail every single time. Your lips part as you stare at him, nothing but an adoring look painting his features as you feel him pulsing inside of you. 

The feeling of him in you, on you, around you is so ethereal. You want nothing more than your senses to be all-consumed by this man—this loving, stubborn, protective man. You got so fucking lucky, you think. 

Before Joel, it was nothing but failed dating and men who only wanted one thing from you. With Joel, he wanted it all—your mind, heart, body, soul—everything. He absolutely loved everything about you, and he wasn’t shy to show it. He might’ve not been that great with words but he always reassured you with his actions, including making you feel so loved and cherished every time you two got intimate, even if it was a little rougher and a little more risqué. 

He gave your hands a squeeze and you focused back onto him, the feeling of him pushing in and out of you having you feeling absolutely ravenous. 

“You still with me?” He chuckles, noticing you drifted off in thought for a second. 

“Always.” You reassure him, leaning up to kiss the tip of his nose. 

Joel picks up his pace, untangling his hands from yours before gripping onto your hips again. Your moans reverberate off of the bedroom walls, back arching and brows furrowing as you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

“Makin’ the prettiest sounds for me baby. Lettin’ me ruin you like this. ‘M so fuckin’ lucky.” He pants as he thrusts into you faster now, grinding his hips up to hit that spot inside you.

Your vision blurs and your eyes gloss over in ecstasy, a devastatingly euphoric feeling of pure bliss coursing through your veins as Joel is nearly successful with wringing out your second orgasm. 

“Who do you belong to?” His voice is gruff behind clenched teeth, concentrating on bringing you to an Earth-shattering orgasm. 

“You! You, Joel, fuck–it’s always been you, it’ll forever– forever be you!” You cry, hands flying to his shoulders, legs wrapping around his body. You cling onto him with no intention of letting go as he fucks into you so deep that you start seeing the whole goddamn galaxy behind your eyes. 

Your whimpers and pleas for him are loud, neither of you particularly caring if the neighbors can hear. It’s music to his ears; a song he wants to hear for the rest of his waking days. 

“Thas’ right, baby.” His voice wavers and he’s close, but he needs you to come first. 

As if on cue, your body crumbles around him once more. You cry out his name as the force of the orgasm consumes your body whole. He leans down to kiss your collarbone and rest his head on your shoulder, his own body starting to shake. It didn’t take long for him to follow suit, filling you with everything he had to give you. His grunts send a shiver down your spine as he tries to ground himself, getting lost in you every time he gets the chance to fill you in such a way. 

His body slumps down onto yours and you’re both breathless, too fucked out to even form a coherent thought. You move your hands up to his hair, taking your fingers through his sweaty locks. He nuzzles his face into your neck, giving your flesh soft, loving pecks. 

Neither of you make an effort to move even an inch, completely content with one another as your breathing evens out. You feel him soften inside of you, but he makes no attempt to move out of you. 

You eventually tap his back gently to signal for him to move off of you, but he groans in refusal before tightening his grip on you. 

You breathlessly laugh as you shove his large body. “Get off of me! I have to pee.” You chide, and you feel his shoulders shake as he silently laughs. He slowly slides out of you and you both groan, and he rolls over onto his back. You stand up on shaky legs with a small huff, looking down at him while he gives you his infamous shit-eating grin. 

When you come back from the bathroom you spot his coffee mug on his bedside table, completely forgotten about amidst your activities. You frown as you pick up the lukewarm mug, an apologetic look crossing your features. 

“Well that went to waste.” 

“Waste? Baby,” Joel chuckles, “I don’t think gettin’ to devour you and seein’ you come undone while I’m inside you is a waste.” 

“Joel!” Your face heats up at his words, looking up at the ceiling in embarrassment. After all this time he thought it was so fucking cute that you still turned shy about his comments toward you, even though you should’ve been used to them by now. 

“What I’m not gonna waste is havin’ the house to ourselves for the next–” He looks at the clock’s red numbers blinking back at him, “–Seven hours. ‘Sides, the coffee can be warmed up again. ‘M not done with you yet.” The mischievous and commanding tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and he gripped your forearm to drag you back into bed with him. 

“What am I gonna do with you, Mr. Insatiable?” You laugh, cupping his face. He leans down, kissing each high point of your face before pulling back to flash you his million dollar smile.  

“Let me prove to you all the ways you’re too sweet for me.” 

tags: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @punkshort ; @joelsgreys ; @endlessthxxghts

divider by @saradika-graphics <3

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #no outbreak!joel miller #hozier what have u done to me #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader

[k-hotchoisan]

Yunho smut with his hands? 🥴

Oh god I love his hands I want them around my neck so bad. My choking kink is off the fucking charts whenever Yunho’s hands are present. Here’s something for you, pretty. Enjoy Yunho and his pretty little hands.

Synopsis: what are the odds of getting a tattoo and getting fucked by your tattoo artist because you cannot stop staring at his fuckin hands

Warnings/genres: tattoo au!, mention of needles, slight size kink, choke kink, unprotected sex, hands kink, cream pies, fingering

A/n: I am so sorry for the amount of typos. I fucking swear this isn’t what usually happens omg

You stood before the apartment door, double checking that you got the right address—yeah you definitely did. He did mention that it was a home-based studio. Your first tattoo appointment and you were so nervous because you don’t know what to expect. Hongjoong had assured you to just go with an open mind. You didn’t know much about your tattoo artist, only knowing that his name was Yunho, nonetheless, you did really like his art style, and you soon settled on him with Hongjoong’s advice.

Back to present, you pushed the doorbell, and it echoes through the apartment. There is a silence before the doorknob clicks. The door pulls back, and before you, stood a really tall male. His sharp eyes make him look very intimidating and for a moment your heart races, and you wonder if you stopped into the wrong house.

“You are?” He asks, and rumbles you even more because his voice is so fucking deep for no reason.

You manage to find the voice stuck in your throat, as you reply, “y/n, here for a 7pm tattoo appointment with Yunho?”

His face softens immediately as his eyes brighten up. “Ah right! Yunho’s client! Come in. I’ll get Yunho in a bit”. He ushers you in as you remove your shoes.

You step inside, soaking in the interior of the apartment. It was definitely a shared space—the common areas were spacious, maybe just spacious enough to serve for two people. It was a pretty clean looking, monochromatic layout.

“Oh right, my name’s Mingi. Song Mingi, but you can call me Mingi”, he introduces himself brightly, his smile contagious. “I’m his room mate.” You smile back.

“Please excuse the mess by the way”, he laughs as he leads you through the corridor, and the both of you are standing in front of a wooden door. Mingi knocks the door before saying “Hyung, I’m coming in” with a raised voice. He pushes the door handle down and the door opens. The subtle hint of lavender hits you from the humidifier and it instantly relaxes you.

On the cushioned rolling stool sat your tattoo artist, his frame is as tall as Mingi’s, messy brunette locks tussled on his head. He’s in simple black shirt but he still looks so fucking good. He’s absorbed on his iPad, still sketching out the little details of what seems to be your tattoo.

You feel your heart beat a little too quickly the moment your eyes land on him because you did not expect him to be that attractive.

And you are gonna be stuck with him for at least a couple of hours together.

Mingi raps the door again, and that’s when Yunho looks up, and you take a good look at his face. He doesn’t look like whatever you expected him to look like, well, not that you had any pictures to reference him from to begin with. But definitely, he is pretty fucking good looking. You stay rooted at the entrance of the door, mooning over your tattoo artist in a tight black shirt while he eyes you up and down with a soft smile.

“Oh right! My apologies”, Yunho finally speaks and he sounds like honey, and it suddenly makes you slightly thirsty. “Hey. I’m Yunho. We finally meet”, he greets with a hand up.

His fucking hands. Oh my fucking gods. He has a silver ring cuffing his index finger. Then he beckons you to go over to him. Mingi tilts his head to Yunho’s direction before saying that he needs to leave, giving you a small nod before shutting the door.

You have no choice but to inch closer to Yunho, who’s smiling at you like a fucking golden retriever, and you wonder to yourself ‘this dude is a fucking tattoo artist?’ Yunho beckons you to take seat on an empty stool across him as he mentions to give him a couple more minutes to finish up the design draft. You nod, even if he doesn’t see it since his attention is back on his iPad. You quietly stare at the way he makes his strokes with his Apple Pencil.

And you get a closer look at this long, slender fingers. You’ve never met anyone with such pretty hands before, yet the way he holds the pencil is so gentle, and almost attractive for some reason. It’s especially the way his fingers are veiny and long—his joints are angled in such a way it frames his fingers so fucking prettily. Yunho looks up and catches your gaze, and you flinch slightly, thinking you are caught in the act.

“Eager to see your design?” He asks playfully, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips. Oh thank fucking god.

“Yeah of course. I wonder what you came up with”, you quickly say, pretending to peek over at the iPad.

He brings up the iPad higher to his eye level and it’s the way his fingers curls around the tablet. He flips it over to you and you soak in the design he drew out for you. It’s what you wanted. You also don’t miss out how clean and neatly trimmed his fingernails are.

“Is it to your taste? Got any last minute changes you want before I print it out?” He asks, as he stands up and walks over to the printer. You shake your head slowly, trying not to swoon at how deliciously tall he is.

He beams. “Great! Then I’ll print a couple of sizes out. Take your pick okay? I’ll go grab some water for you.” You nod as he disappears out of the room through the door. The printer starts up and it begins to print out the stencil.

You look around the room. Despite it looking small, it was pretty cozy looking. The room has comfortable lighting, with lamps, which you assume are for the tattoo work. There’s a small space just behind the empty stool you’re seated on, with smaller studio lights pointing towards the wall, which you deduce is probably where he takes photos of his finished products. His tattoo machine sat near to the tattoo bed, which was cling wrapped for sanitary purposes, including the pillows. Finally, a small desktop computer set up was against the wall, perpendicular to the small studio lights, with a printer at the side. The door knocks, a short pause before it pushes open, and it’s Yunho with a drink in hand.

He walks over to you and hands it to you, his fingers brushing against yours and it takes you so much nerves to have any wild thoughts. You take a sip to distract yourself as you hear scissors cutting through the tracing paper. As you open your eyes, Yunho is so fucking near your face that it makes your heart jump.

“Oh gosh! Did I scare you?” Yunho laughs as he takes the cup from your hand. “My apologies.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. You just move so quietly”, you joke. Yunho smiles in reply as he places the cup on his desk.

“I need you to lift your shirt up for me”, Yunho instructs, staring at your abdomen.

Fuck, for a moment your mind plunges into some unknown territory. You forgot that your tattoo placement was above your hip. You roll the fabric up high enough, and you fucking jump when you feel Yunho’s fingertips brush against your skin, on your waist. “It’s here right? The placement that you wanted?” He confirms, his touch not leaving your skin. “Yeah”, you manage out.

He cuts a piece of tape to adhere the stencil onto your skin before bringing you over to the full length mirror right by the bed to let you confirm your placement. After a few adjustments (and hell of of him touching your waist with his bare hands which was definitely giving you insane haywire thoughts), you came to a placement which you are satisfied with. He sticks the stencil to your skin, much like a temporary tattoo, pulling out the tracing paper and letting it dry, before having you lie down in the bed as he prepared his inks.

“First tattoo?” He asks as he checks his gun.

“Yeah”, you reply, playing with your fingers from the nervousness.

Yunho chuckles. “That placement might hurt a little though. You’re a brave one.”

You only release a nervous laugh—wondering if it is for the tattoo or because of Yunho. He turns to you, tugging against his ring to remove it before snapping black latex gloves on before pushing your shirt higher. You bite you lip.

How the fuck does his hands look even better gloved? The black latex only enhances the length and shape of his hands, which curls around his tattoo gun.

“I’m gonna start now. Let me know if you need a break, yeah?” Yunho assures. You know it’s probably a customer service thing but god, why did he have to be so attentive?

He switches on the gun and it buzzes. He begins tattooing and sure enough, the placement you picked definitely hurt quite like a bitch, but you force yourself to pull through it.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt?” He asks before continuing.

“It does, but I think I’ll be fine”, you reply, thinking of something else to distract yourself from the pain. Throughout the session, Yunho makes conversations with you, making you laugh when you probably shouldn’t because he was stabbing needles at your waist but still. He was amazing at breaking the ice, especially in such a seemingly intimate space. You feel yourself unwind a little, and although it still hurt, you don’t feel so tense anymore. Nonetheless, you could not shake the thought about his hands running down your body every time you glance at Yunho doing your tattoo.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I even wanted to get a tattoo when I have a shit pain threshold”, you say in between soft giggles to cover up the pain and soreness that was starting to sink in.

“But you’re doing so well for me”, Yunho replies absentmindedly with a smile. Your head spins the moment he says that, butterflies were invading your stomach. What the fuck was that even? Now your stomach in twisting into knots when he’s praising you like that.

“We’re almost done. Hold on a little longer for me yeah?” He assures again, as you bear through the pain. It’s over quickly as he smoothes over your tattoo with a final swipe of the paper towel. He moves back a little to admire his work. He looks satisfied. He pulls his gloves off and sits you up gently, your stomach still fluttering as his fingers brush against your skin. He brings you to the full length mirror, and there you admire how gorgeous the tattoo looks.

“It looks amazing” you gasp, turning your side to have a better view of it. Yunho looks proud. He has his phone in his hand now and requests a few photos, which you obliged to of course. He adjusts your shirt before snapping a few pics.

“I really like how this turned out,” you gush. “Thank you Yunho.”

Yunho shakes his head. “Thank you for entrusting me to it, especially as your first tattoo.”

You laugh in response, and you don’t realise that he’s kneeled down at your waist, preparing to stick on the second skin. He sticks it on and instructs you on proper tattoo care before making another appointment for a touch up. You thank him and left the apartment, heart still beating in your ears.

You’ve developed a way too big of a crush on your tattoo artist now.

The touch up appointment came way too quickly than you thought. To be fair, you were still not over it, and as much as the tattoo scabbing and itch , it couldn’t compare to way Yunho’s hands kept brushing against your waist, as he checks on your tattoo. But in the past month, all you think about was Yunho and his fucking hands. Even now, when he’s only taking a look at your healed tattoo, your mind in swimming in the most dirtiest places you wanted him to touch.

You shut your eyes and bite your lip so no weird sound comes out from your mouth. You feel Yunho’s breath right at your waist as it tickles your skin, a soft sigh escapes your lips as your tattoo artist continues to rub against the tattoo.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed by Yunho.

He could very easily just tug your pants down and you would let him because fuck, he’s all you can think about now. Yunho stands up, and definitely notices how flushed your skin is looking, and he decides to test waters. He traps you at the tattoo bed, and you hear your heart in your ears as he inches closer. Now he’s pretty much towering over you as his fingers are tracing against your waist, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Your tattoo healed so nicely”, he says, hooking his index finger and thumb to your chin so you’d meet his gaze. Your gaze travels down to his pretty lips and he takes it as a sign to cup your neck and pull you in for a starved kiss, sending your mind into a fucking frenzy, and fireworks to go off in your eyelids. He tastes even better than you thought. Your eyes flutter open as he pulls back, catching your breath.

“Won’t Mingi hear?” You ask. He shakes his head. “Not anytime soon, doll.” His little pet name making you flush even harder, and it all goes down to your pussy, which is getting wet enough already, no thanks to your little fantasies and the fucking kiss.

“Now, stop thinking about him when I’m here.”

His hands touch your waist again, as he lifts you onto the tattoo bed, the plastic crinkling beneath you. You watch him breathlessly as he tugs against your bottoms, and your clothing articles drop to your ankles. Yunho doesn’t let them touch the ground, instead, he folds it hastily onto the other side of the bed, before turning his attention back to you, or your wet and sopping pussy.

Yunho licks his lips, before stroking your thighs to coax you to spread your legs open, and you do, your eyes following the way his fingers are stroking your thigh, alongside the ticklish feeling it was sending straight to your cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy, doll”, he compliments, his fingers trailing down your slicked cunt, before stopping right at your hole. He hears your little whimpers and cries, and it goes right to his hardened cock that’s pushing against his pants. But he knows being patient reaps the best rewards. He can be patient for you. Yunho’s fingers slowly plunge into your cunt, and your back arches in pleasure, because oh my fucking god, his fingers are long enough to hit a spongy area and it was sending fucking stars beneath your eyelids. Shivers tickle your spine as Yunho’s lips land soft kisses against your skin on your neck. His finger fucking was sending you into the heavens.

A kiss on your cheeks makes your eyes flutter open, and you meet Yunho’s gaze.

“I’ve noticed”, he sighs, slowing down his finger fucking in you. “That you seem really entranced by my hands since our first session.” Then he plunges his fingers in again, another cry leaving your lips as your eyes roll back.

Fuck. He found out.

“You have such pretty hands”, you admit, hiding your face with your arms, wondering what was more embarrassing—the fact that he found out about your fixation with his hands, or that he’s fucking your cunt with said fingers.

“So I should make really good use of it, right?” Yunho chuckles, adoring the way you’re squirming under his touch. He pulls your hands off your face and holds them down, and oh god, he was truly trying to drive you insane. He picks up the pace and every time his fingers press against your g-spot, your moans only grew louder and more desperate, and Yunho is progressively losing his rationale. He wants to fuck you so bad right now, and the thought of him railing you on his workspace only heightened his arousal, because he has never done that before.

Your orgasm only builds up even more quickly when he thumbs your clit after releasing your hands. Your hands are clawing his arms.

“Yunho, please. Oh god. That feels so fucking good. Gonna cum.”, you cry, lifting your legs higher, and that only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, and the words that leave his lips-“cum on my fingers baby. You know you want to”- and a whimper escapes his lips the moment he feels your walls clench against his fingers, as moans pours out of you when your orgasm floods your senses. Yunho lets you ride your orgasm out, slowly pushing his fingers in and out again, enjoying your cunt squeezing his fingers. He pulls out slowly and you barely catch your breath, as your gaze meet his. His fingers are full of your slick and cream, and plasters it on his lips, giving them a lick before sucking this pretty fingers, covered in your arousal, fucking clean. That does nothing but throw your head into a frenzy, and your cunt clenches at nothing, as you struggle to keep your composure.

But now Yunho is the one starting to lose it, as he haphazardly wipes his fingers on his slacks before hastily pulling his pants down, his cock springing out, glimmering with precum already, very evident thanks to the studio lights. God fuck, as if his hands weren’t pretty enough, his dick is too. Yunho bites his lip, staring at how fucked out you looked, especially since he hasn’t even fucked you good yet. He pushes your knees to bend even more, before lining his cockhead to your hole before sinking his cock right into you. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open at this point. Your cunt feels slightly sore, and your walls are hugging his cock so well that Yunho is fighting not to just fuck you senseless. Yunho groans at the sensation, but he leans in for another hungry kiss with you, before his hand snakes around your neck.

He pulls back. “I’m sorry. I really need to fuck you so bad right now. Fuck.” You can’t help but find that so endearing that he’s holding back. Your fingers tug your folds open more, letting him sink his cock further deeper into your heat, which makes him squeeze your throat. It feels so fucking amazing to have Yunho choke you out like this, and you make it even more evident by clenching around his cock.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, and starts fucking you so deep and good, that you fucking swear you see a bulge below your belly button every time his cock hits your cervix. The sensation of Yunho’s cock stuffing you full every time he thrusts into you paired with his hands around your neck—softly squeezing and letting go—is only pushing your second orgasm to hit you.

“I would have never guessed that you’d get off my hands this much”, Yunho hums, looking at the way your eyes are rolled back as his balls slap your ass every time he fucks into you, your hands grabbing onto his arm, clawing again from the bliss he’s fucking you into. “Do you like them that much?”

You fight every nerve to focus on answering him, eyebrows scrunched. “Y-yeah. Fuck, I fantasise you choking me out like this since that day. I dream about letting you do whatever you want to me with your han-“ getting cut off from a sob as his cock fills you up again—or did he just grow even bigger in you? Ah, fuck, it doesn’t matter.

“Naughty girl”, Yunho mutters with a smirk, his free hand slapping against your ass, the sound rippling through the room, making you arch your back even more.

“Yunho, p-please’, you stutter, the knot in your stomach so taut. “I think I’m gonna cum again”. Now you’re sobbing. This only encourages Yunho to tighten his grip around your neck as his strokes become harder, and you snap—broken sobs leaving your throat as your cunt fucking squeezes Yunho’s cock, the sensation of his hands around your neck only amplifies your orgasm as stars burst in your eyelids, and you cream so fucking much, that it gets onto the cling wrapped bed below you. Yunho immediately loses it, his thrusts becoming straight up ruts. He releases his grip from your neck, and the oxygen returns immediately, leaving your heaving. Yunho is leaning into your ear, as his both hands are now on your waist as he fucks desperately into your overstimulated cunt.

“You’re so fucking adorable, y/n. I’m cumming too”, he grunts, as he ruts a final time before a soft moan hits your ears, then a flood of his warm cum right into your spent pussy, and oh god, did that feel amazing. Yunho stays by your side for a moment, before straightening his back, and pulling out, not missing a beat at the way his cum just trickles down your inner thigh, out of your hole.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. This is your work space and all”, you panic, taking a handful of tissues that Yunho had offered to clean yourself up. Evidently, that doesn’t get to him because Yunho immediately rushes over the moment he notices the red marks around your neck.

“Shit, did I choke you too hard?” He asks rather frantically, lifting your chin up, rubbing against your neck gently. You shake your head, suddenly wanting to just kiss him again, but you hold yourself back. “Also, don’t worry about this. My next appointment isn’t until 4pm. I have time to clean up. You alright though?”

Fuck, why did he have to be hot and gentle? It was genuinely driving you nuts. “Is it okay if I use the toilet?” You ask, fitting your clothes on. Yunho immediately nods, rushing to the door to leave it open for you, as you gingerly head to the washroom.

You sigh as you leave the washroom, wondering if it was about to simply be a one time thing, because you were falling for your tattoo artist, hard and fast. Your gaze meets Yunho’s the moment you shut the door behind you, and Yunho has cleaning supplies in his hands. Suddenly your face flushes again, thinking at the mess the both you made.

Yunho’s smile doesn’t falter though, and you see a tint of red colouring the tips of his ears, which you could have definitely missed if you hadn’t noticed closely. There’s a strange air of silence between the both of you, that is, until Yunho speaks.

“My 4pm client is my last one for the day. I’ll text you when I’m done, if you’re down for dinner?” He asks, rubbing the nape of his neck shyly. Oh my fucking god. You laugh softly, because, holy shit, you never expected this outcome, and then you nod. “I’ll be waiting, Yunho”, you reply.

Yunho steps forward to you and strokes your head. “I’ll see you to the door then. And then I’ll see you tonight.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #Yunho ateez #y/n x yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader

[enchantressiren]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.❞

What is it about you that makes your lover forget everyone else? + channeled song(s)

Subliminal channel | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

Not a tarot card reading, only based on my intuition. Credit: an anonymous person, thank you.

Normal intuitive readings: @sefinaa

Average word count: 1.4K

Divider | Divider II

Pile 1

Instantly, I hear “your eyes, your eyes,” and then I start to sing the song “just the way you are” by Bruno Mars in my head. The gaze you have with other people draws them towards you very quickly, and you have noticed that because you focus on the way you dress and that you take care of yourself, you have seen a drastic change with other people. Society focuses on beauty, and you have noticed that, but instead of using your beauty, you have used it to get the things you desire, regardless of your weight and your gender. For example, I see you guys, regardless of your gender, wearing some type of makeup, whether that’s mascara, eyeliner, blush, concealer, or foundation. Whatever it is that you do, it is working, and for you, your lover, or your future lover, is going to go nuts on it—in terms of the song that I channel for you guys, they will literally love you for you. Have you seen those troupes where it says, “I love you just the way you are, and when you open yourself and you remove that shell, I will love you even more?” That is the biggest vibe I’m getting from them with you. They cannot get you out of their heads. They literally think about you 24/7, and they like to think about you when they’re stressed about something. They will drift their minds towards you, and they will feel completely relaxed. You have such a radiant energy that people also think of you aside from romance; they feel happy, you have a genuine heart, and you have a lot of empathy. You show it to other people, and you’re very genuine with them, and they can see that, so when they speak to you, they feel completely energized, and they feel so good about themselves. They wonder why this is the case. But you already know how this is the case because you came to the conclusion with one of the last readings or the pick your card piles that you have read about yourself, and all of this makes sense to you now, and now that you see this, this is your sign once more. None of you guys doubt it, but to have another sign about this makes you or will make you realize so many things about yourself that you have been pushing away.

Coming back to the question, it’s your intelligence. My intuition tells me that you come up with so many ideas and can pick up on things so quickly. For example, a lot of you guys in this pile are focusing on the art section, like writing, singing, drawing, etc., and you have never done this ever, but the way that you pick up on things you are doing makes you look like you are an amateur or a professional, and when you tell people that you have only been doing it or practicing it for a little bit, they are fully shocked because they don’t believe you, but it’s the truth.

For sexual, I see that the way that you grip onto the bed sheet and the way that you hide your moans and your groans because of embarrassment is one of the cutest things for them. First of all, when you are with other people, you ooze confidence, and people do not realize that you are beyond insecure. You are a very insecure person. The only people who know it are the people you trust and your lover, or in the future, they will. But it’s okay to be insecure, everyone feels that way at some point in their life, so do not be so harsh with yourself. Especially in the bedroom or having sexual intercourse with them. You’re small moans, and your groans always echo in their minds whenever they’re aroused thinking about you or the horny when they see their kinks or dirty talk around them. It is very easy to make them aroused, so if you spoke dirty to them for like two minutes, they would be it, they would want to fuck you and bend you over, and the rest is a story. So I’m also hearing from my intuition that when you grip the sheets, you are going to show them pure vulnerability and trust, but you’re also showing them that they are making you feel good, and for them, it’s a long-term goal of theirs that they have been trying to achieve for a few months with you. And because it finally happened, they were very happy, or they will be very happy, but you are insecure about it. but my intuition tells me not to feel that way. It's the cutest shit for them—sometimes people say babies are so cute, and they will say, “oh I want to eat them because they’re so cute.” It has the same energy here. I know that you read some piles as mentioned and came to the realization of who you are, and this can help you, but intuitively, I truly hear lots of sadness with this pile and a lot of anxiety. As I was channeling this reading, I was breaking my nails and biting them, which never happens because I don’t do that, so I want you to start to work on taking care of your inner child and shadow work to get rid of the unwanted negativity that you do not deserve.

Coming back to the question again, another thing that your lover will literally think about is your butt. They are huge ass lover, and your size is like the perfect grab. During sex or when sex with you guys happens, they will always be either spanking your ass or grabbing it, and then always eating it out, but I also see them pinching it too. I’m getting a mix of energy from different genders.. so those who have lovers or will have lovers who have dicks will be into your butt to spank you, eat you out, and pinch you, and those who have lovers, or in the future, who have vaginas, will be into pinching your butt, squeezing it, or using sex toys—are you guys bottoms? I’m getting a lot of bottom energy from every single person in this pile, and this comes back to how I spoke about you guys showing confidence, a dominant energy with other people, but deep inside you guys are very insecure, and you will hide it from everyone. You also love having your lover take control, but in a way, you guys feel very insecure about it, like you've always been this person who has always been dominant in your life, and now you come to terms that you like to be a sub or the bottom or even a vers or a switch or whatever. But you guys, it’s literally okay to be like a bottom or a switch or whatever. You don’t always have to be a dom, and you don’t always have to be a confident person, because even confident people will have doubts, negative emotions, and they will also feel insecure. It is human emotions, and you have nothing to worry about. My intuition tells me you have nothing to worry about; therefore, you have nothing to worry about.

Channel song:

Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars

Pile II

Why are you guys such sweet souls? I mean, seriously, I’m getting this very relaxed and calm feeling, but I’m also getting the sense that I want to donate to many charities that are involved with good people. I also hear the song Kill Him with Kindness by Selena Gomez repeatedly in my head. Your future spouse or your current lover knows that when someone is mean to you and they use cruel words about you when they spread rumors about you, instead of getting mad and going after them with revenge or doing the same as them, you instead, give them kindness. And some people may see that as naïve or something weak, but to you and your lover… It is strength and resilience. to have that much courage to show kindness to someone else, despite the hardships that you have gone through, and not have an ounce of hatred for them, but forgiveness is incredibly beautiful, but also so heartwarming and wholesome to your lover that instead of thinking about everyone else, they think about your kindness. And to point out something.. your kindness has changed your lover drastically, and if they are your current lover, you can see it yourself. I see the sexual troupe “brat x softies doms.” That’s your relationship with them. I know that your lover is not dom. Both of you do both positions (top/bottom, dom/sub), etc., but that is what I see for both of you. You guys have respect for each other, and you show it through sexual intercourse or you will show it, but because you have this softness and love for them, this feeling of care and compassion, you will listen to anything they say with sweetness. They don’t have this desire to be a brat with you. They genuinely want to improve themselves, so you would be proud of them. I hear that they seek your validation, but only because they want to improve themselves as people, just like you have. The amount of trauma you guys went through is insane, and they admire you so much.

My mind is wondering about a scene about a school where the teachers would always ask a student, “who do you admire? Who do you look up to?” and I see your future lover or your current lover sitting in a chair. And they look up to the teacher, and they just mention your name, and they go on and on about details about you that they truly love, but they don’t tell you because it’s so sacred and personal to them. And I see the teacher just listening to your current lover, your future spouse, as a ramble on, and instead of anger or annoyance, because they keep talking, there’s a sense of patience and sincerity from them. My intuition tells me the teacher is you and how you treat them, and the student is your lover’s heart. Their heart is speaking and rambling on, and they cannot control what they’re saying, but the teacher or you are there to listen, help, and guide them. That’s why I’m feeling the song “kill em with kindness” because that’s kind of what you do with people, and when you guys fight or when you guys will fight—when you do fight and you do make up, they will be coming running to you and apologizing profusely because they feel extremely guilty because you’re such a sweet person that they just can't stay mad at you.

In terms of sexual life, they really adore when you give them so much trust to take control when they are topping or when they are your dom because their trust is superior. It is so important for them that they would die on the hill just to have your trust. Intuition tells me that they literally worship the ground you walk on, and you are literally like their “god.” I also hear that “your body is a temple that I must worship.” I can see that there’s a lot of love with your pile, and so my intuition tells me that there is going to be a lot of body worship around your sexual life with them and that they don’t even care about their own pleasure. They focus on making you feel really good about yourself, because I hear that you guys are actually insecure, and sometimes you feel like the kindness that you have is stupid or naïve, or you just want to be tough, and if you're assertive, it's a good thing. But keep in mind, you guys, that it is okay to be kind. Kindness is not weakness. It is strength and bravery to literally forgive someone, maybe not for them but for you, and to not fight with dirty playing or revenge, but to show compassion for them—that is something to be incredibly proud of, and I’m so proud of you, as are your lover, your friends, and everyone who literally loves you, so promise me that you guys will treat yourself with kindness.

Coming back to the sexual life in terms of body worship, they’re also going to be focusing on your genitalia part because some of you guys have sexual trauma around it, and some of you also have insecurities focused on it, so they’re going to be more gentle with it than they would be in general because I hear that some of you have rough lovers. So they’ll leave kiss marks on your thighs, and if they were lipstick, it would be on your inner thigh, not like an imprint but like “whenever you feel sad, you’ll see the marks, and you’ll know that I love you when I’m not there” kind of energy. I’m not feeling it’s something rough or something like I’m marking you and I’m claiming you; it’s really, really soft energy despite the trope you guys have. And it’s really wholesome too. Like, out of everyone that your future spouse, your lover would think of, and out of every single thing that they are stressed out with or bothered by, whenever they feel stressed out, they go back to you and your sweet smile and your sincerity, or whenever they want to be back in the present moment, it’s always you on their mind. I don’t know how to explain the love that I feel thinking and channeling this reading for you, but do you know that I feel safe? I feel such security that I can do anything I desire, and I know that I would have someone to back me up. And I also feel like if I had a child with them, I know they wouldn’t leave me and that it would last so long till I’m old and I'd die with them. That is the energy and love I feel from them. It’s so powerful, it’s so enlightening, it’s so peaceful, and I’m just feeling pure happiness. There is not an ounce of hatred or anger in my heart, and when I think of you, and as you read this pile, you’re going to feel the same way, and you’re going to be incredibly confused, just like I am. Because I also hear that you guys are very intuitive, and you know that this was your pile instantly, and as you read what I have said, you kind of know it’s them too. You guys just know who they are, but you don’t know who they are. You get this energy when you see them; you know it’s them, and you kind of see what they look like, but you can’t. It’s very contradictory. It confuses you and stresses you out, and you’re starting to doubt your intuition, but don’t. When you read the piles from other tarot readers, you just know, but you can’t explain or say who it is, and it drives you insane, so let me just tell you something. Let it go. Just go with the flow and let it come to you naturally. It’s okay not to know everything; believe me, I know. Your intuition is a guide, so don’t force it. It is like forcing a journey you are going through; some things are just out of your control, and that’s okay! If you force the energy, you’re going to become stressed out, you're going to lose trust in yourself, and you’re going to lose yourself in the moment that you forget who you are. So just relax; it’s okay, you’re going to find out, and when you do find out, you’re going to be kicking your feet because you knew it was them, but you’re just going to know at the final moment, and that is supposed to happen. It’s your soul journey.

Things like these are very complicated. It is a struggle, even for me. It is a struggle, like I’m getting some of you guys feel like tarot readers or intuitive readers just know everything, but we don't; we literally do not know. We get confused just like you guys because we are all humans, so honestly and intuitively, do not worry.

Channel song:

Kill ‘em with kindness - Selena Gomez

Don’t worry, be happy - Bobby McFerrin

Pile III

Right off the bat, the way you walk turns your future lover or your current lover on. I'm seeing a model walking on a runway as she sways her hip back and forth and she has a calm, resting face, but she is pure confident, has sexy energy, and has a bad bitch vibe. I see the model walking on the runway, she’s getting a lot of attention from people and those in the audience, but at the same time, she’s not overwhelmed with the attention. She just keeps doing her own thing, and then, when she finishes her walk, she comes back, sits on a chair that they use for movie stars, drinks her refreshing lime water, and talks to herself in the mirror as she hypes herself up and tells herself how good she did, how amazing she is, how proud she is, etc. This is a huge vibe I feel with you, like you guys will not let anyone step over you, and you will not let anyone, especially if your lover fights with you, get mad at you. No, this is not how you work because I get this—I’m hearing my intuition say, “I’m a bad bitch. I’m the queen. I’m the king. You cannot walk over me. I know who I am; that’s my truth, so fuck off.” Yeah, so what my intuition is telling me is the same thing that I have been telling you: you have this very, very strong energy, and your current lover or your  future spouse feels the same way, and that’s what makes you so irresistible. They can’t stop thinking about you. 

People say that you have narcissistic tendencies, but in reality, you care about yourself so much that it does not matter what people say about you. You do whatever you want, and you do not apologize for how you act, and that’s what they’re going to love so much about you, and that's why they keep thinking about you. They will literally want to pass the time as they think about you. Think of meditation, but the meditation is just you and their memories with you. You are their motivation to gain confidence because sometimes they are insecure and you always try to hype them up, or that you will try to hype them up, and it’s a bit of a struggle, but because they keep thinking about you and how you act with others lately, or in the future they will have enough confidence to do what they desire to do, their own things to do.. or even chores? I see someone wearing some kind of black aesthetic, maybe alt, Gothic, emo, or maybe a suit, washing the dishes, so I’m also getting the sense that it’s really based on their clothes and their style that your confidence, your love, and your devotion help them to wear what they love. And your confidence also gives them a sense of purpose.

With sexual, I’m feeling a song about daddies—you give off mommy/daddy vibes. And I’m getting the sense that you like to take control during sex, so with them, they’re going to keep thinking about how you’re such a good top or dom and how you can make them feel so comfortable doing it because with other people, they are never comfortable, but with you, they’re so comfortable that they would literally let you control everything about their lives, and they’ll be persistent with that, but you don’t like that, and they’re okay with it if you do be their dom for everything. Like, the trust they have in you is insane and beautiful (don’t take it for granted). I see a box of cash that has been crumbled up; you can think of the cash as their feelings being played with like a fiddle stick, and they push the box to you to give it to you to control, and you keep pushing it back to them like, “no I’m not going to play with your emotions. I want to love and take care of you because I love you.” So I’m getting a sense of deep devotion from your side, and because they’re more shy about who they are, you're able to help them embrace their authenticity and other favorite things to do during sex. I keep hearing this reading more on them for whatever reason, and there’s not much energy on you because I think in a way you also wanted to see more about them than you wanted to see with yourself because you really know yourself and my opinions wouldn’t change how you see yourself. And when you get compliments, you don’t really take them; you just accept them and let them go because you only care about your own opinion, and having an ego isn’t that fun for you anyway. My intuition tells me that you guys pick a card about yourself and the first impressions of other people, but then when you get the reading, you're just like, “I don’t really want to do this because I don’t need it.” 

So coming back to the vibes of you guys, give mommy and daddy vibes. I’m also in the sense that you guys like to listen to music when you guys masturbate, have sex, or, in the future, you guys will, because it kind of gets you into this mood and this passion with them. When you guys finish, they will think of the song and remember you guys making love in a way this is like for you because they keep thinking about you and keep showing their love and admiration towards you. So I’m also getting this feeling that you're a sneaky bastard. You guys do small trinkets of things to get them to think of you. For example, you guys will watch a movie with them that’s more focused on the sexual life and about the lover focusing on their partner, and it kind of goes into their subconscious mind, and then they’re like, "oh, let me worship you and love you,” or you just send them a social media video about you or what you want or what you want them to buy, and they just buy it for you because they love you so much, but at the same time, it’s like, “I’m getting kind of influenced by the videos or the things you show me, but I don’t regret anything, and I’m not a mindless zombie, I just, I just want to do it for you.” Intuition tells me they have a love language for receiving and giving gifts, and them buying new gifts is showing their devotion. You send them videos and stuff. It's not like a gift, but they also feel loved by it, like you think about them and want to show them something, and you’re giving them more attention or more company with them, like you’re spoiling them with your attention. 

Right now, I'm hearing, “you’re such a fucking whore; I love it.” I think you guys have a thing for saying derogatory words to your lover during sex like sometimes you’ll call them a slut or a whore or like a bitch like you’re my bottom bitch, etc. and for some reason you kind of feel bad afterwards but like they love it, they literally love it; it just a heat fire into their chest or their soul and they’re just like  “you know what screw you, I can do this, I can do that”, so like whenever they’re hurting and they are struggling with their own emotions, they will literally think about that moment, and they will just do whatever they’re scared of like they will just completely attack the fear—you feel bad for them but this is literally like their key of getting their ass up and doing what they need to do. I’m hearing “you are my savior,” so for them, they think you are the hero, like you don’t even have to have a complex I’m just getting this whole energy of “you are my hero, you saved my life, you mean the world to me, and I cannot thank you enough.” I’m also getting another song called Maniac, and I keep hearing, “she’s a maniac, a maniac. I sure know.” During sex, you guys literally, like I said, are completely in that moment. You have that much passion that when you keep taking control, it gives you a high, like you are in that moment, and you become like a maniac that you keep going and going and you just cannot stop. The only way for you to stop is if they say a safe word, and I know what you’re thinking, but you are not hurting them. You are okay, so do not worry. But I’m getting this fast, this fast thinking; everything is fast in my mind, and I feel very hyper, and that’s how I feel overall with your energy during sex because it’s like fast pace, quickies, etc., even public sex I hear.

Overall, the energy, the feeling of passion, the confidence, and these daddy/mommy vibes are what make your lover completely forget everyone else but you. You just have this dominant energy, you don’t have a tough persona, because it’s literally you, and you do not apologize to anyone for being yourself. When people attack you with snarky comments, you don’t give a shit; you just keep going, and that’s what your future lover or your current lover, as of the moment, loves about you, and that’s what they fully think about most of the time. They are supposed to think about their work, their homework, a meeting, their hobbies, etc., but no, it’s always you, you, you, you, on their mind, always and forever  

Channel songs:

Such a whore - Jvla

Maniac - Michael Sembello

#18+ tarot #free tarot readings #tarot reading #pick a photo #collective reading #tarot community #channeled message #free tarot #PAC #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #divination #tarot deck #tarot readers of tumblr #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot witch #witchy #witches of tumblr #witch community #witchcraft #oracle #spicymessages #18+ only #18+ post #18+ content #18+ minors dni

[tempting-andromeda]

Fuck it writing for rdr2 now

Nsfw headcanons

Warning: smut, knife play, somnophilia, power dynamic, spanking, hair pulling, bruises.

Characters

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy,Micah Bell, and Eagle Flies.

Arthur Morgan

He likes for sex to be intimate but he gets a rise out of things escalating. Like you two are in bed about to sleep but like 20 minutes later your legs are over his shoulders and he’s shushing you to stay quite.

He doesn’t force moments between you two he likes when it’s natural.

He laughs softly at you if you get too eager for him. He teases you and degrades you for it softly like “Really? This desperate for me? Guess I gotta give you a good time don’t I, Girl/boy.”

He likes to hear you talk during it even if it's just jumbled moans. He'll ask you questions like “That feel good?” and he likes a response but he doesn't force it (unless he's being rough then he'll stop moving and make you reply)

Sex is personal for him so he likes to make you feel good and sometimes he completely forgets about himself.

John Marston

He likes being in control but simultaneously he likes when you’re in control as well. He’s a complicated man.

He’s so fucking eager. Sometimes he forgets about foreplay but once he remembers he focuses on making you finish until you’re barely able to take him.

He’s real into dirty talk. He simply cannot shut up. He’s between your legs describing how you taste.

He has a high sex drive yet he cums quickly. He goes multiple rounds to make up for it though.

He’s so sensitive. He tries to pretend he’s not but after a while he starts begging you to bite his neck or use your mouth on him.

Dutch Van Der Linde

He likes a power dynamic. He likes being dominant and he doesn’t like that changing. If you try to top or be dominant he sees it as a challenge.

He’s into humiliating you but he doesn’t like bringing it out of the bedroom. He likes seeing you on your knees as he sits in a chair and he likes making you beg to suck him off.

He likes brats. He’s into the challenge and he likes making them submissive. It’s a huge thing for him if you act all bratty.

He likes to lightly smack you but doesn’t actually apply pressure unless he’s spanking you. Like if you back talk or something he grabs your face and uses a stern voice and after you say “yes sir” he lightly taps your face.

Really likes to stand back and admire you after he’s done with you. Looking at your panting frame and fucked out face. It makes him so proud. If he could he’d have a picture of it.

Charles Smith

He’s super into passionate slow sex. Pressing his forehead against your chest as he praises you but sometimes he can’t seem to hold himself back and he fucks like his life depends on it.

Like he’ll have your legs spread in a nearly humiliating way but he’s complimenting you the whole time, praising your very existence.

He likes when you wrap your legs around his waist. It makes him feel like you’re desperate for him as well and it drives him crazy.

He’s a munch. No doubt about it. Sometimes it’s the only thing he wants to do. He’ll lay in between your thighs like he’s starved.

Having sex with Charles is like experiencing a Hozier song first hand. At the end of every night with him you have absolutely no doubt he worships you.

Javier Escuella

He’s into knife play but he’s not entirely into drawing blood. He’s into cutting your clothes off of you. Like completely ignoring the buttons on your shirt and instead just running his blade along the buttons, snapping them off.

He’s real into hair pulling both ways. He likes fucking you from behind to pull your head back so he can kiss you and he likes when you pull his hair in missionary.

Possessive. No doubt about it. I feel it in my bones. He always asks you who you belong to before you cum and he gets a huge rise out of it. He makes your scream out his name at least once every time y’all have set.

He’s super into quickies. He likes to pull you away for a bit and absolutely destroy you and then go back to what you were doing and watch you struggle to pretend like nothing happened. It’s a huge turn on for himz

He likes to cum on you instead of in you. He’ll finish in your chest, back, stomach, face. He’s so into it. He likes knowing you’re a mess for him and you’re allowing him to do this to you.

Sean MacGuire

He’s huge on praise. He needs you to tell him he’s big and that no one makes you feel this way. It drives him crazy.

He’s super messy when he fucks. There’s something about it that makes him feel prideful that you’re a mess and he’s a mess.

He likes to humiliate you but in a different way from Dutch. Dutch does it for the power dynamic and he does it just because he likes the idea that he’s the only one allowed to do this to you.

He’s a head pusher but he always makes it up to you afterwards by making you pull his hair when he goes down on you.

He likes having sex in semi public places. It fills him with such adrenaline he’s trying to go again afterward.

Lenny Summers

Hes into handjobs. More than anything. If you put your hands in his pants he’s nearly crumbling that instant.

He likes when you go down on him randomly. Like he’s reading a book and suddenly he’s getting head or waking up to head? It’s so attractive to him.

He knows what you like and what you don’t like and his fingers are magical. Sometimes he tries to multitask and do something else while he fingers you but he ends up giving in and giving you all of his attention.

He’s real nervous at the idea of people catching you two so he just whispers a lot of praise in your ear. He feels horrible degrading you but he tries.

He moans at everything. Like if he goes down on you, he’s moaning the whole time. If he’s touching you he’s still moaning. It’s just attractive to know he’s doing something that arousing to you.

Kieran Duffy

He likes when you tell him what to do. He’s real clumsy most of the time and if you lead his hands and body and tell him what to do he’s determined not to fail.

His dirty talk is mostly him asking for reassurance like “am I doin’ good?” Or it’s just him worshiping you.

He whimpers and whines so easily it’s like he’s getting fucked. (Or he is) he gets real embarrassed afterwards but he doesn’t try to stop

He begs to touch you even if you’re not holding him back or telling him he can’t. His hands could even be on you and he’s begging to touch you.

He moans so loud when he cums. He always tries to cover his mouth to muffle it or he buried his face into you to prevent anyone from hearing.

Micah Bell

He’s rough. Real rough. A night with him probably ends with a few bruises and a sore body and he’s real smug about it too.

He likes watching you pleasure yourself. Sometimes he’ll touch himself as you do so and after you both finish he won’t touch you.

He loves edging you. Sometimes he pulls away right before your climax and wait for you to beg. Once he got up and nearly left just to see your reaction.

He likes shoving your face into the pillow as he fucks you from behind. It makes him feel dominant and like he’s in control.

His praise is really rare so he saves it for a special moment. He’ll have you hanging off the side of the bed as he bellows your back out and he makes sure you hear him when he speaks, grabbing you by the back of the neck just to whisper something like “look so pretty from back here, slut.”

Eagle Flies

Experimentalist to the core. He wants to try everything at least once. He thinks it’s a huge trust thing to experiment with intimacy.

He likes showing off his strength and stamina so he likes to lift you up to fuck you. He can last so many rounds too so by the end both of you are panting and tired.

He says “I love you” during sex. He feels so intimate to say it and he likes to make eye contact as he does it. He knows it’s cheesy but he likes to say “I love you” while he finishes

He likes to talk about your sexual fantasies and tries to recreate them as best as he can. He feels like he has to prove that he’s better than some fantasy and he never fails.

#rdr2 headcanons #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan headcanons #john marston x reader #John marston headcanons #dutch van der linde #Dutch can see Linde x reader #charles smith #charles smith x reader #charles smith headcanons #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #javier Escuella headcanons #Arthur Morgan #John marston #sean macguire #Sean macguire headcanons #Sean macguire x reader #lenny summers #Lenny summers x reader #kieran duffy #Micah bell #eagle flies x reader #eagle flies #kieran duffy x reader #micah bell x reader

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Moments with Chris

Summary: Chris can’t stop making out you

Warnings: making out, choking slightly? getting caught?

A/N: HC WITH CHRIS MAKING OUT WITH YOU?! how we feelin?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

𝜗𝜚 ever since Chris and I started dating and actually became comfortable with each other we cannot stop making out.

𝜗𝜚 were in boston visiting his family and were all watching a movie, Chris' arms around me and looks around and noticing everyone is asleep. chris looks around and looks back at me and smirks. grabs my waist placing me on his lip and kisses me passionately girpping my waist firmly and sliding his tongue in my mouth.

𝜗𝜚 chris was filming a video and he came up stairs to “use the bathroom” and he barges into our shared room and smirks at me.

“alright ma i got 5 min” he says while climbing over me placing his legs on either side of my thighs.

“chris go film” i say through laughter

“nah im good” he smiles and leans in and kisses me deeply and with desire using his hand to grip my throat using his tongue to explore my mouth.

“CHRIS HURRY THE FUCK UP” nick screams from downstairs which interrupts our make out session.

𝜗𝜚 matt, nick, chris and i went to target to get some stuff for their new video and chris and i followed a little farther behind nick and matt holding hands when chris pulled me to an empty isle pinning my back into a shelf. chris kissed me deeply and poking his tongue to enter my mouth and use our tongues to fight for dominance , he obviously won. then he pulled away hearing the sound of a buggy getting close by.

“could you not have waited?” i smiled with a small whisper in my voice

“not when my girlfriend looks like this” he took my hand and spun me around before finding nick and matt.

“where the hell were you guys at?” matt says with annoyance in his voice”

“Y/N found these chips she was lookin for a while ago…” his voice trailed off.

“yeah? what were they called? lipstick flavor? cause that’s what’s all over ya lips chris” matt says using his pointed finger to trace around his lips

𝜗𝜚 Tara invented chris and i to her one million party and chris and i was dancing to a song he liked and i had my back against his chest dancing when he used my hips to spin me around and place his hand beneath my jaw and lean down and kissed me with passion and lust in his kiss using his tongue and using mine to intertwine with each other’s and i quickly pull away from embarrassment.

“chris not here please” i say smiling nervously checking my surroundings knowing tara was filming and not wanting chris and i making out on camera.

“yeah? why not? hm” still holding my jaw

“i would not like to be filmed chris” i softly smile

chris places a quick peck on my lips before holding my waist getting me to get more comfortable and dance with him to the music.

𝜗𝜚 matt and nick left chris and i in the car while they went to go get our pickup order of pizza and as soon as the door closed and both nick and matt left chris unbuckled me and placed me on his lap pulling me into a quick but passionate kiss. this time i use my tongue to enter in his mouth and explore his mouth with my tongue trying to fight for dominance i lost obviously. i jump at a sudden knock on the window from matt. i lean over and roll the window down.

“i just left my wallet… if you don’t mind stopping what your doing in my car before i have cum stains on my seat and grabbing my wallet so i can pay for your fucking pizza you demanded to have… that would be great” matt sarcastically smiles

i slowly get off chris’ lap and sits back in my seat as chris gets matt his wallet and rolls the window back up.

“so do you wanna continue or?” chris looks over at me

“nope just no… i’m officially turned off” i lean my head back and let out a sigh of frustration and embarrassment

“yeah no that cool i feel you…” his voice trails off trying to play it off

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N yes it’s short but I HOPE YALL ENJOY THIS!!

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ sub-ish!mingi x soft dom-ish!f!reader

synopsis ✭ Mingi really likes your boobs. So much so that he's willing to skip work for them.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI, fluff (warnings below the cut)

word count ✭ 1.3k

note ✭ this just came out of me on a whim. like, yeah, i've been thinking about mingi being a boob guy forever, but this one just kind of fell out of me and into a word document in the middle of the night 🙂 anyway have fun boos

also the dom/sub dynamic isn't super prominent, but i thought i'd put it in there

AND nothing was proofread, so if you see a typo...no you didn't. don't tell me about it 😭

warnings ✭ unprotected sex, fingering, breast-play (obviously), pet names (baby-mingi, angel-mc)

✭✭✭✭

Song Mingi loves boobs. He really does. He loves how soft they are. He loves how well they fit in his hands. He loves absolutely everything about them.

Of course, your boobs are his favorite. And it is no secret to you that he loves your chest. Maybe you picked up a couple hints from the way he oogles at the lowcut tops you wear sometimes. Or maybe its the way he grabs and holds them any chance he gets  that gave you an inkling.

The biggest, most obvious tell, though, is how he can never remove his face from them. Ever. When you’re watching a movie on the couch, he’s laying on top of your chest while you play with his hair. When he’s fucking you relentlessly, he keeps his lips attached to your tits, occasionally biting and bruising them. 

And even now, as the sun slowly starts to light up your bedroom, his face is burrowed in your chest. Only the thin cotton t-shirt you’re wearing separates his face from your skin. You’re both laying on your sides, facing each other. Your leg tucked securely between his arm and his waist. 

As per usual, you wake before him, gazing down as his pretty face pressed against your chest. In the low, orange light of your bedroom, you could see the outlines of his face. The flutter of his eyelashes. The way his lips were parted ever so slightly as he slept so peacefully. His soft snores and the sound of your ceiling fan overhead were the only noises in the room.

You brushed through his hair with your fingers, softly scratching his scalp and kissing the top of his head. You loved to watch him sleep. The softness of his features and his relaxed disposition just made you feel so at home. And being able to coddle him just made everything so worthwhile.

After several uninterrupted minutes of you playing with his hair, Mingi begins to shift around in his sleep. You kiss the top of his head again as he wakes up. He only nuzzles deeper into your chest. 

“Mingi, baby, you have to get up soon,” you whisper, bruising his hair back to look at his eyes which are still closed with his brows furrowed in protest. 

He shook his head and groaned, “What time is it?”

“It’s already seven. You have to leave soon.”

“Fuck that. I’m not going anywhere.” You’re somewhat aware of his hand creeping up your shirt.

You hummed, “Baby, I know you want to stay in bed, but you told the guys you’d be on time today. And you’ve been late every single day this week.”

He didn’t say anything, instead, he creeped his hand even further up your shirt until he reached your breast. “Mingi.” You warned as he held it in his hand, softly pinching your nipple between his fingers, He finally opened his eyes and looked up at you with his big brown eyes. 

“Angel, let me stay with you this morning. It’s okay if I’m a little late. I just wanna stay with you for a little bit.”

“Mingi,” you scolded, failing, though, to keep down the moan that bubbled out of you when he rolled your nipple under his thumb, “You cannot distract me with sex every time you don’t wanna get out of bed.”

“Don’t think of it as distracting you,” he pulled your shirt up even further, and you let him pull in over your head, “I just wanna make my girl feel good.” He took your nipple into his mouth.

Your grip on his hair tightened as you sighed at the feeling of his tongue playing with you as his hand held your other breast between his fingers. He groaned as you pulled his hair.

His other hand teased the waistband of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin. Slowly, he pulled the garment down your legs, and you helped him to kick it off. His free hand ventured between your thighs. 

“Oh fuck baby,” you groaned as he ran is fingers through your folds. 

He pressed two fingers against your hole, “Fuck angel, you’re so warm.” He sighed as he sunk them into you, causing you to tighten your grip on his hair.

He continued to explore your chest with his mouth. Playing with your nipples and biting the skin around them. He lazily played your clit with us thumb as he fucked you fingers into you. God you were so beautiful he couldn’t take it. From your pretty pussy, to your beautiful face. And god your tits. You smelt so good, too, that all he could do was breathe you in. 

You felt so relaxed as he played with you. The morning drowsiness wore off only to be replaced by the blissful mess of your pretty boyfriend getting off to making you feel good.

It was beyond obvious that he was enjoying this. Partially from the way he enthusiastically pleasured you. But you could also feel how hard he was getting against your thigh. You teased him a bit by pressing your thigh into his length. He whined.

“Oh baby. Let me help you,” you pulled away from him, much to his dismay. He pouted, “Don’t give me that face baby. I’ll make you feel good I promise.” 

You told him to sit against the headboard after stripping him down completely. You took that opportunity to crawl over him, softly holding his length in your hand, pumping it just enough for him to squirm just a bit. Chuckling, you leaned in to kiss him softly, “Can I ride you baby?” You whispered against his lips.

He nodded with begging eyes, “Please, angel.”

You positioned yourself over him, rubbing his length along your folds. He let out a moan as you sunk down onto him, his voice cracking. 

His head fell back as you started to bounce up and down on him. As his head spun when he felt you tighten around him as you moved your hand down to play with your clit. It was only a couple seconds, though, before his face was back in your chest. Kissing and biting your breasts as you fucked yourself put on his cock.

He relentlessly moaned into your chests, and you could he was getting close. His little cries were the biggest indication of how close he was. And he couldn’t help it. The combination of being buried deep in your pretty cunt and having your tits all in his face was a fucking wet dream (one he had had many times before).

“You close, baby?” You asked pulling his face out of your chest by his hair to look him in the eyes. He nodded with his jaw dropped open. “Yeah?”

“Please, angel, let me cum,” His voice was weak as he felt himself get lost, “Please I’ve been so good.”

“You wanna fill me up?” You asked, speeding up your pace. He frantically nodded, eyes rolling back in his head, “Ok baby, you can cum.” You let him finish, filling you up completely. You followed soon after with your own orgasm that made your legs weak as it washed over you.

When you pulled off of him, he was quick to return his hand to your cum filled pussy. He grabbed some of it on his fingers to smear it all over your chest, “You’re so pretty, angel.” He leaned back in to lick the cum off your tits. You giggled softly as his neediness. 

“Thank you baby. How about we go hop in the shower? You have to get to work soon.” 

He nodded and made his way to the shower. Surprised to absolutely no one, though, Mingi did not go to work that day.

#everyonewooeverywhere #mingi smut #mingi x reader #song mingi x reader #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #mingi imagines #song mingi imagines #song mingi #mingi #ateez #mingi fluff #song mingi fluff

[carakook]

Shut Up .・。.・゜✭・.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

“If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

🔞FOR MATURE AUDIENCES🔞

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Synopsis: After taking a job as a co-writer, you quickly find that you and your “boss” just don’t get along. Constantly butting heads, disagreeing on things, and he isn’t even nice about it. He’s a fucking dick. He’s always criticizing you in embarrassing ways, but you’ve tried to be patient, ride it out. Over the short time you’ve worked here, the tension has built quickly, and it is clear both of you cannot stand each other. Unfortunately, today is the day you reach your limit after he humiliates you in front of several of your coworkers… and the “conflict resolution” is definitely something you did not expect.

Genre: Enemies to lovers (or hookup in this case), workplace affair.

Pairings: Boss/Writer!Namjoon x Co-writer!Reader

Word count: 7.5k+

Warnings: 18+, Heavy smut!! Hate sex, protected sex (wrap it up), rough sex, face fucking, light slapping (not in the face), a bit of spit play, face fucking, cussing, crying (sort of), heavy conflict, degradation, arguing, name calling, a bit of teasing, cum eating? (Sort of), dry humping, face humping, being slapped with dick (lightly), Let me know if I missed anything!

⚠Disclaimer⚠:This story does not in any way reflect the character of those who are mentioned, it is totally fiction and just for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.

A/N: Hiiii! This is my first one shot. I’ve actually had it in my drafts for a long time but never posted it, I decided to finish it recently and post it here. I hope you like it! I love writing, have soooo many drafted one shots/full on fanfics with each of the boys. A looot of them are with Jungkook, can’t help myself. He’s my lover… 😭 Anyway, if you guys end up liking this I’ll post more. Thank you so much for reading if you do!

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

There aren’t many things you regret in life. Because if you allow yourself to regret things, you overthink. Overthinking is never a good thing.

See, it wasn’t awful at first. But the moment you met Kim Namjoon, you could tell he had a problem with you. What? You didn’t know. You still don’t know. But he never bothered hiding it.

You powered through, because this was sort of like a dream job for you. You loved writing music, writing lyrics. It was hard to even find a job like this to begin with. So when you got the callback, you jumped at the chance. You were so excited to be working here, and you were familiar with Kim Namjoon. You thought his songs were beautiful, his writing style seemed similar to yours.

Boy, you were wrong.

Not even a week into working here he was heavily criticizing you. But again… you pushed through. Because you were new, he had a right to be picky. This was his studio, he was technically your boss… technically. So you tried to be patient and listen to his criticism.

Which didn’t last long. Because he was not subtle. Arguably, there is a difference between constructive criticism and being blatantly rude and picky. Namjoon was straight-up rude. And at times it was embarrassing.

Nothing you did seemed to satisfy him. Every single time you brainstormed with him and the team, he disagreed with you. Every time you proposed lyrics, he rejected your ideas. Every time you so as much opened your mouth, he had an issue with what you had to say.

You tried to be patient… you genuinely did. But you don’t like feeling disrespected or embarrassed. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. So the last two weeks you’ve both been bickering, and the tension is noticeable not only to you and Namjoon but to the entire damn team.

The worst part about it all? You are so fucking attracted to him. He makes your tummy swoop with butterflies. He smells good. He’s tall, his dimples are fucking adorable, and his body… god, he is to die for. The sexual tension is prominent.

If only he wasn’t such a dick.

Today pushed you to your limits. Never in your life have you been more embarrassed.

It all started with a song he was working on. He played the beat, and immediately you were inspired. You got excited. Your attitude was bright, and you immediately jotted the lyrics down on your paper when they came to mind. You seriously thought today would be the day he’d be proud. He would agree. You felt good about it.

Only for him to burst out laughing when he read the lyrics. That wasn’t even the worst part. It’s bad enough that he laughed at you in front of the entire team. But what he said next is what made you lose your shit.

“Oh- shit. You’re serious?”

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your very irritated expression. And then he fucking laughed again.

“Fuck, Y/N. I thought this was a joke. God, I wish it was a joke because it would be hilarious if it was. It sounds like a fucking kids-bop song. You can’t be serious.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

You went off on him. In front of everyone. For three minutes straight you cursed him out, waived your hands around, and made it clear how much you cannot stand him and how rude he has been. How humiliated you feel. You’ve always been praised for your writing, so why the fuck doesn’t he like it? You are fucking pissed.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuss your boss out in front of everyone… but at this point, you don’t care. If he gets you fired by the company, oh-fucking-well.

Namjoon stares at you for a moment once you’re done. Your chest is heaving, your cheeks are red, and your brows are furrowed angrily. Clearly, he didn’t expect your outburst. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tense, it even does the little tick thing that drives you crazy. Fuck him for being so hot. Fuck him for being so damn hot and such a dick.

He raises a brow at you, tongue in cheek, making that angry face that would be incredibly attractive if it weren’t directed at you. He lets out an angry huff of air before speaking.

“Studio. Now.”

He points at his studio as he says this as if you’re too stupid to understand his words. This pisses you off even more.

“You’re not my fucking boss.”

He scoffs at you, briefly smiling at your bold choice of words. You infuriate him just as much as he infuriates you.

“Actually, Y/N, I am. Studio. Now.”

You know that technically, he is your boss. But you refuse to listen to him after how humiliated he made you feel. In front of everyone, how dare he speak to you this way? Regardless of his weird hate for you. Besides, he can’t fire you. He may be able to request it, but you know that he won’t. From what you’ve heard, It took forever to fill this position. He was picky when it came to hiring someone… which makes this more confusing. You can’t figure out what his issue is with you, especially when he is the one who helped pick you for the job. Regardless, you know that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. He’s full of shit.

You stand your ground. You won’t back down this time. You’re tired of the disrespect.

“No, Namjoon. Whatever you want to say, you can say it here. You’ve already embarrassed me, so go ahead, do it some more. I’m sure you get off on it.”

No longer smiling, his gaze is dark. He’s pissed. Now he’s a bit embarrassed… that’s what he gets.

“I won’t ask again. You can march your ass upstairs, or I can carry you. Your choice.”

You say nothing, surely he wouldn’t do that. He’s bluffing. Regardless of how harsh he has been towards you, you know that he wouldn’t cross that line. You hope that he doesn’t. The last thing that you want is for him to touch you. Not because he makes you uncomfortable, but because you already have enough dirty thoughts about him. You hate him, yet he turns you on in a way you’ve never felt. Lust driven by pure hatred, it’s a dangerous thing.

But of course, you were wrong, and he never ceases to surprise you. Never underestimate Kim Namjoon.

You stay silent, secretly hoping that he will just back down and continue the brainstorming session. But is Kim Namjoon the type of man to back down? No. He never has been.

He strides over to you quickly, taking big steps in your direction, causing you to miss your chance to run.

He swiftly grabs your waist and hoists you over his shoulder, his fingers digging into your thighs. You don’t even have time to react before he starts carrying you upstairs to the studio. He has no trouble doing so either, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

You come to your senses and swat at his back while you yell profanities at him, demanding that he put you down, threatening to report him, and telling him that he’ll be fired by morning if he doesn’t stop.

But you know that he won’t. This company would never side with you, no matter what Namjoon did. They relied on him. They didn’t rely on you. You were replaceable, even if it would be difficult. Namjoon is not replaceable.

“Resume the session. If you finish before we’re done, you’re free to go. This may take a while. Don’t interrupt us.”

Hurried nods are sent in his direction, no one dares protest him or intervene. Cowards.

He kicks the door open to the studio, entering with ease, making sure not to hit your head on the doorframe as he walks in. You wish he would have hit your head, knocked you out, hell even thrown you over the staircase. Anything to avoid this humiliation he has cursed you with. You almost wish you would’ve just kept your damn mouth shut.

But the damage is done now. No point in backing down.

He throws you roughly on the couch sitting opposite his desk and then closes the door, locking it before facing you.

You glare at him, chest heaving, heart beating out of your chest. You’re just as pissed as he is. Yet, you still find yourself clenching your thighs together, irritated at the fact that he turns you on so much. You shouldn’t be horny right now… yet you are. The way he squeezed your thighs… fuck. Fuck him. God, fuck him to hell. You hate him.

“What the fuck was that?” You nearly growl at him.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down on you as if you’re nothing more than a pesky roach that he wants to squash.

“I told you, you could walk, or I could carry you. You made your choice, clearly.”

Fuck him.

“Fuck you, Namjoon. This is ridiculous.”

He laughs. He laughs at you.

Fuck him.

“You are ridiculous, Y/N. Why are you even here, if you can’t take criticism?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can take criticism, constructive criticism, something that you are apparently incapable of giving. You’re so fucking mean to me and I’ve done NOTHING to you.”

“No, I-“

You cut him off, unable to control your mouth.

“And another thing, it’s only me that you speak to this way. I’ve yet to see you speak to anyone else the way that you do me. What is your issue with me, why do you hate me so much?”

“Maybe if you-“

You cut him off again, and his jaw does the tick thing. He’s getting angrier, but you do not give a fuck.

“No, this isn’t on me. I earned my spot here, I was hired for a reason, and everyone else respects me, why don’t you?”

“Because-“

Again.

Fuck him.

“There is no reason, you obviously have some sort of sick vendetta against me. You’re fucking insufferable!”

“Me? No, you-“

Again.

And he’s had enough.

“No, fuck you Namjoon, fuck you and this weird ass game you’re playing, you—“

He borderline growls before he pins you on the couch.

You don’t even have time to register what he’s doing, and if you did, you’d slap the shit out of him.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

His lips crash into yours as he hovers over you, one knee perched in between your legs, while his other leg steadies him. He grabs your face with force, so rough that you swear he could break your jaw if he gripped you any harder. His other hand is on the back of the couch, steadying him the same and pinning you in place.

The kiss is no different. His lips assault yours, and he wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with vigor. A kiss unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only ever been kissed like this in your dreams, the same dreams that wake you up in the middle of the night leaving you touch-starved. It’s fucking aggressive and rough.

And of course, you kiss him back. You don’t want to. Yet you do. You don’t want to give in to him. But you do. You can’t help it. As soon as he made his move, you were under his control. He has that way about him, he’s easily able to affect people. You were a different story. You always defied him, disagreed with him, challenged him. Yet, this is the way that he tames you, even if only for a minute. Shit. You’re weaker than you thought.

He nips your bottom lip before pulling back, your jaw still in his grip. His nostrils are flared and his breathing is rigid, as if he’s just as shocked as you are at his actions.

And he is. He has no idea why he just kissed you. He has no idea what came over him. He just wanted you to shut the fuck up, and he acted on impulse. And now he has a raging hard-on, which pisses him off even more. He doesn’t want to want you, in the same way that you don’t want to want him. But you both do.

He whispers, searching your face, studying your reaction.

“Do you ever just shut the fuck up and listen?”

You clear your throat, still trying to come down from the rush of the kiss, adrenaline running through your veins.

“I-“

“Do you know how fucking irritated you make me?”

Suddenly, you have no fight left in you. You feel intimidated. Fuck him.

“Then why-“

“Am I gonna have to kiss you every time you need to shut the fuck up?”

You blink at him, unable to respond. You have no idea what to do, or how to react, and are becoming distracted by the puddle seeping between your thighs.

You haven’t had sex in over a year. You haven’t been able to grow interest in someone enough to give them that piece of yourself again. Your last situation-ship left you simply sick of men. Sex wasn’t appealing enough to go through that again. But, of course, as if the universe is punishing you, Namjoon awakens your sex drive.

You nervously bite your lip and clench your thighs, not even realizing what you’re doing. You’re on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger and lust. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon.

He looks down at your thighs, and you immediately unclench them. Your cheeks betray you by reddening, thanks to the smirk that very clearly gives away that he knows exactly what you’re feeling right now.

He keeps his eyes on your thighs for a moment before looking up at you. He smirks, raising a brow, giving you a crooked smile that tells you he knows your dirty little secret. Your jaw is still firmly in his grasp.

“Is that it? You’re sexually frustrated? Is that why you’re being such a bitch?”

You try to wriggle from his grasp, embarrassed, angry, horny. You’re starting to wish he would just fire you. Anything to save you the embarrassment of his knowing glare.

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath touch your lips.

“Yeah? Fuck me? If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

You blink at him again and say nothing. You want to protest, tell him how gross he is, tell him how much you hate him, tell him that he’s the worst. Yet, his idea just makes you hornier. You’ve never had hate sex, and oh fuck, you’re sure that it would improve your mood, even some of the tension between you two.

But it pains you to even admit that. It’s humiliating. He has humiliated you enough.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, angling it upwards so that he has better access to your neck. He places his lips on your jaw, running his teeth up it, leading to the crook of your neck, keeping his lips on you as he speaks his next words.

He grabs your wrist with his other hand, leading it to his crotch, coaxing you to feel him. And he’s hard. So hard that you’re certain a button will break on his jeans. Fuck. He feels giant… You’re so fucked.

“Do you see what you do to me? Never in my life have I had anyone piss me off to the point of getting a fucking boner.”

You can’t help but whimper at his dirty words, but you make sure to bite your lip, preventing yourself from begging him to take you as you so desperately want to. You aren’t one to beg for anything. And you hate him even more for bringing you to that point.

“I’ve thought about fucking you so many times, Y/N. Fucking you to the point that you don’t even remember your own name, and my name is the only thing that you can scream. I just wanna fuck you until you shut the fuck up.”

“Please, just… do it then.”

Word vomit. You thought it but didn’t intend to say it. Yet, you said it. Of course, you did. You’re on the brink of cumming just from his filthy words.

He kisses your neck before speaking. And you can feel him smile as he does so.

Fuck him.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, hearing you beg makes it so tempting. I never thought you’d be the type, considering the amount of shit you talk.”

You croak out, suddenly feeling defensive, “I’m not. I don’t beg for shit.” You weakly push at his chest, even though you both know damn well you don’t want him to stop.

He laughs, pulling back to look at you, keeping his face close.

“Yet, here you are, begging for my cock like a desperate whore.”

You frown at him, feigning offense, when in reality his degradation is making you even more desperate. Why? You don’t know. You’ve never liked being degraded, in fact, nothing turns you off more than being called names… but hearing it come out of Namjoon's mouth? Fuck.

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper.

He tilts his head at you, amused.

“Fucking obviously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched before. Are you this needy with other men?”

“There are no other men.”

He studies you for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. The way that he looks at you makes you feel insecure, as if he’s a judge on one of those cooking shows, trying to figure out whether he likes the taste of you or not. You have the urge to push him away and take off, his gaze is too goddamn intense.

He is too intense. Never met a man like him.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, looking away from him.

“Like what?” He asks, furrowing his brows. Amused.

“Like you think I’m the most vile thing on earth.”

He’s taken aback by your response, almost looking offended. Because that is the last thing he was thinking. If only you knew.

“Vile? Baby, I’m so hard for you right now that it hurts, do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed? Fucking annoying, but soooo hot.”

You squirm, your cheeks pinking again. You didn’t expect that. You expected him to laugh in your face and agree. He grunts as he takes in your facial expression. If only you knew what you truthfully do to him. He closes his eyes and scrunches his brows, taking a deep breath before he pulls away from you, leaving you considering getting on your damn knees and begging for him to touch you again.

He chuckles while shaking his head, eyes still closed as he speaks. As if he’s in pain from pulling away from you.

“Yeah, fuck, and you’re cute when you blush. This is fucked. I can’t stand you, yet you’re so fucking cute. What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?”

Fuck. He’s making this hard. You’re so overwhelmed. So pissed, so horny, you wanna push him away and cuss him out some more, but also you’ve never wanted another man more in your life than you do him right now.

Both of you stare at each other silently for a moment. His jaw keeps doing the tick thing, and you squeeze your thighs tighter, rubbing them together to relieve some pressure. His eyes flick to them, and you don’t even bother hiding it this time. As humiliating as it is, his cock is hard and bulging out of his jeans. So you can’t find yourself caring too much at the moment.

What really makes his resolve waver is the way you’re looking at him, which you don’t even realize. Normally you look at him with such disdain, as if he’s the vile one. But right now? Your eyes are wide and glossy, your lip stuck between your teeth. You’re looking at him almost sweetly. The desperation in your gaze is impossible to hide.

He loses it completely.

“Ah, fuck it.” He declares before grabbing you by your hair again as he sits on the couch. He tugs you roughly into his lap and starts devouring your mouth again.

You let out a little huff of air as he does this, not quite used to the rough handling. But god, it’s fucking divine. You feel as if all of the anger you’ve held for him comes rushing out in the form of kisses and touches. He feels the same.

His hand leaves your hair and he grips your hips, roughly grinding his hard cock onto your pussy. Dry humping like fucking teenagers as you make out aggressively.

Your hands come to rest on his face, framing it as they tremble slightly from the overwhelming emotions. You don’t hold back this time either, licking into his mouth wantonly, letting out little grunts and mewls that make his cock strain and twitch inside of his jeans.

His hands leave your hips to grip your ass, and he fucking groans into your mouth. He slaps it once, testing. When you let out a whine, he slaps it much harder this time, making your body jerk slightly.

He laughs into your mouth and says breathily, “Fuck, you really are a whore aren’t you?”

You bite his lip hard when he says this. You hate it. You love it. You grind down harder onto his clothed cock. He reaches back up to grip your hair and tugs your head back, pulling on it harshly and pulling you away from his mouth.

He grins when he hears you whine at the loss of his lips. “You wanna fucking bite me, huh? Uh-uh, fuck no you don’t.”

He pushes you off of his lap and lets go of your hair, you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and confusion. Honestly, you already look fucked out and he’s barely done anything. You’re just touch-starved, so every little kiss and touch is fucking you up. You’re craving relief from both your sexual frustration and the building irritation he’s caused you over the last month.

Before you even realize what he’s about to do, he grabs your hair again, his grip much firmer this time. It actually kind of hurts… yet you don’t stop him. He pushes your face roughly into his clothed cock, and grinds onto your face as he spreads his legs wider on the couch.

Oh fuck.

He grunts as he starts nearly smothering you. When he feels a bit of your drool gets onto his crotch, he yanks your head back, he laughs again, “Bet your big fucking mouth is great at sucking cock. Should we find out?”

You just glare at him. Don’t wanna give him the satisfaction even though every single thing he has done so far has made you borderline cream your pants.

He clicks his tongue, “No? Don’t have anything to say now? Isn’t that funny…”

Fuck him.

He keeps his grip tight on your hair as he uses his other hand to fumble with his zipper and button. Once it’s undone, he whips his cock out. It hits the fabric of his rumpled shirt and is already dripping precum.

Holy. Fuck. His cock is huge. A good nine inches.

He yanks your head forward again, literally smearing your face all over it, humping your face again. His head falls back and he grunts at the feeling. Your skin is just so soft, and the way your makeup is already becoming fucked up is making him go crazy. He’s always loved sloppy sex. And you are fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks.

He grabs his cock with his free hand as he tilts your head back, starts slapping your mouth with it, your cheeks too. The precum starts stringing from your cheek to the tip of his cock, and you can see his pupils dilate even bigger, he almost looks like he’s about to lose control.

He says uncharacteristically softly, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh real hard, yeah?”

If you had even a single moment of free thought, you would’ve probably been thankful that he gave you an out. You know despite him being a huge piece of work, he’s not a bad guy. So the fact he’s setting boundaries in your favor, even in the heat of the moment, is comforting. He cares about your safety and comfort. It’s the bare minimum of course, but most men lack even that. It’s why you stopped having casual sex to begin with.

But you don’t have a moment to think because pushes your lips down onto his cock abruptly, your mouth opens on instinct and he shoves himself inside. Doesn’t even ease into it, he just straight up plows his cock inside of your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

You cough, and gag, already drooling all over him. Fuck it’s hot. You’ve never been face fucked like this before, but you’re starting to think maybe you’ve been missing out on good sex if this is how good rough sex feels.

You can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you if it feels this good in your mouth.

When he sees tears start to form, he pulls your hair back, strings of spit and precum connecting from your mouth and onto the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt so good feeling your throat constrict around his cock. His resolve is wavering heavily. But he’s trying to remain patient. He smirks at you, stroking his spit-covered cock lazily directly onto your lips, causing beads of precum to escape his tip and cover your lips like lipgloss.

“Fuck, look at you. And you haven’t said a damn word. So pretty when you shut up.”

Your cheeks flush and you say petulantly, “Fuck you.” Because even now you don’t wanna give him the satisfaction.

That’s short-lived though because he starts fucking your mouth again. He shoves his cock inside and starts thrusting into your mouth as if it’s a goddamn sex toy. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, causing you to gag and cough, your hands squeezing his thighs hard but not pinching.

You can take it.

He grunts out, “Fuck… I swear to god I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth every goddamn time you mouth off from now on Y/N, since nothing else has worked so far.”

Each word punctuated by a harsh thrust, he grunts our, “Just shut. the. fuck. up. Fuuuck.”

He keeps fucking up into your mouth, not easing up even for a second. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can do is take it. His thrusts only become sloppier and wetter. His head is thrown back and his abdomen starts clenching hard. But he knows you need to breathe. As much as he wishes he could just cum down your throat; he has other plans…

He pulls your head back again, he’s already feeling a bit too close to cumming. He doesn’t wanna cum too fast, he’s certain it would give you more to talk shit about.

He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his breaths coming in fast. You look utterly fucked. Your makeup is ruined completely now, your eyes are red and teary, and your pretty pink lips are swollen. His stomach flutters, because he thinks you have never looked prettier.

He’s always thought you were so pretty. It’s one of the reasons he can’t stand you. He isn’t supposed to want you. You’re his coworker, technically his subordinate.

But none of that matters now, does it?

He doesn’t look much better, his shirt is covered in wet spit and his boxers are ruined too. He should’ve taken his clothes off… but luckily, he thinks it’s so much hotter this way.

His cock twitches against his belly, and he strokes your cheek with his free hand. He murmurs, “You good?”

You nod stupidly at him even as drool dribbles down your chin and your mascara runs onto your cheeks. There’s nothing to say really. You’ve never enjoyed having a dick down your throat so much. And he has effectively shut you up.

He nods and guides your head up, kisses you deeply. His eyes roll back as he tastes his precum on your tongue. So fucking good, he thinks.

He guides your pliant body to lay down on the couch, and then he settles in between your legs, his hands stroking up and down your thighs as he looks you over. God, there is so much he wants to do to you. He wants to use you but also wants to make you come undone as many times as possible.

Maybe then you’ll be more tolerable. Maybe this is what you both need, he rationalizes.

But he’s getting impatient. His cock is standing tall as he looks down at you, visibly pulsating, jerking upward now and then. And fuck, it’s making you impatient too. So much so that you whine at him, “Fuck, stop looking and just do something.”

His jaw ticks. He’s getting irritated. That’s what you think, anyway. But in reality, he’s preening on the fact you’re just as impatient as he is. It gives him an excuse to cut the foreplay and fuck you stupid.

You want him to do something? Oh, he will.

He lets out an almost mocking laugh, “Yeah? Want me to do something about it? You sure?”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, scooting your ass closer to his pelvis on the couch, his cock dripping so much precum, you have no idea how he’s not losing his mind right now. You certainly are. In fact, he’s starting to piss you off again.

Right as you’re about to talk shit, he can immediately tell. He grabs the front of your button-up and he rips it open. Doesn’t unbutton it like a normal person, but fucking rips it open, sending buttons flying on the floor of the studio. You let out a grunt, and blink at him in surprise with your mouth open.

You liked that shirt. Fuck him.

“Fucking seriously? You’re ruining my clothes now?”

Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You have drool and precum drying on your chin, you’re so horny it hurts, and he just ripped your shirt open like a wild fucking animal.

But him? It’s like he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are averted downward, tongue flicking over his lips. He looks almost stupid like this. What the fuck?

You look down to see what he’s gawking at, and… Oh. Oh. Kinda slipped your mind that you aren’t wearing a bra today. You were running late this morning and forgot to throw one on. Oops.

Namjoon doesn’t even look at your face at this point. His eyes are glued to your tits. He feels kind of ridiculous, getting this worked up over tits. He’s seen tits many times, it’s nothing new. But something about yours has him salivating, has his cock jerking upward.

He reaches down and starts lightly slapping the sides of your tits, watching them jiggle with a gaze full of hunger, he rasps out, “Not the only thing I’m gonna be ruining.”

One hand remains playing with your tits like they’re fucking stress balls, and Namjoon would argue that they absolutely are. The other hand reaches down and lifts your skirt, causing it to pool around your waist. He looks down a bit further, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from your perfect tits, his other hand pushing your ruined panties to the side. He groans, nearly growls when he notices how wet you are. Fuck. He’s so close to losing control.

He dips a single finger into your sopping heat, just barely. Moves the creamy juices around before pushing his finger fully inside, squeezing your tit hard in his other hand. Your hips buck up involuntarily and your head falls back against the couch. You fucking hate yourself for the desperate noise that claws out of your throat.

Namjoon is no better, the moment he feels how wet you truly are, he lets a sound that sounds no better than the one you just let out. His breathing picks up, his heart starts beating faster, and his cock is so hard at this point that it’s actually painful. God, you are just so tight. Your pussy is clenching around his finger as if it’s trying to swallow him whole.

“N-Namjoon— please. Fuck. Please.” You beg again, don’t even care how pathetic you sound. A single fucking finger isn’t enough for how badly you want him right now. Want to be filled up and fucked hard. He’s barely moving it too. Just lightly grazing your walls, and it’s so frustrating. You just want to cum. Get it all out.

Namjoons resolve finally breaks when he sees a trickle of creamy white drip out of your pussy and onto the couch, he can’t take it anymore. He genuinely wanted to tease you, make a fucking mess of you. Make you beg and cry for him because of how much you piss him off. But not even he is strong enough to stall, he needs you. Now.

One last slap to the tit, he pulls his hand away and hastily reaches over for his wallet on the side table next to the couch. He pulls a condom out, brings the wrapper up to his mouth, and tears it open. And fuck, that’s so sexy. Your pussy clenches his finger again at the sight, and then he jerks it out of your pussy with a grunt.

You whine at him, almost feeling offended. But Namjoon knows damn well he’s going a little crazy because he just got jealous. Jealous of his own fucking finger. Should be his cock, not his finger. What the fuck are you doing to him?

He doesn’t warn you before he stuffs the same finger, accompanied by another finger, into your mouth. Nearly making you choke just like you did on his cock. Then he tosses the wrapped condom onto your bare chest, “Put it on me. Quick.”

You don’t even hesitate, you grab the condom with shakey hands and fumble it out of the package, all while sucking his fingers clean of your own juices. It only turns you on more, tasting yourself on his skin.

You reach for his cock, grab it with one shaky hand and his hips buck into it a bit. He lets out a little hiss through his teeth because of how sensitive it is, neglected for too long. That’s how it feels, anyway.

You roll the condom onto his cock snuggly and then look up at him expectantly with a desperate but wrecked look. Give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you can muster up. He keeps his fingers in your mouth. Doesn’t even move. Again, drawing it out. Attempting to, anyway.

You whine against his fingers, and would probably be begging him if you could talk. But Namjoon can’t take it anymore, lucky for you. He moves his hips forward and uses his free hand to position his cock at your entrance.

The moment the tip is sucked into your tight hole, he snaps. Literally, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out even with your mouth around his fingers, sounding muffled and wet. Your back arched obscenely because fuck you didn’t expect him to just go in like that.

You’re not complaining though, fuck no.

His head falls back like yours, and he stays like that for a moment, his teeth grit and eyes clenched shut. He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs your face with one hand, smooshing your cheeks, the other hand coming back up to your tit and squeezing it harshly, as if he just can’t help himself. Squeezing so hard that it kinda hurts. But fuck, it feels so good. You’re starting to realize maybe you have a thing for shit like this.

Doesn’t help when you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It’s just enough stimulation to make your pussy start throbbing around him.

It’s pathetic how close you already are. But god, it feels like he edged you for hours. Even though he barely did anything. You guess you just kinda forgot what actual dick felt like compared to your fingers or a toy.

He starts moving his hips slowly, trying to be patient while your pussy adjusts to his size. But your patience left the moment he entered you.

“Fuck. Go faster, please.”

Your voice sounds high-pitched and a bit loud which you don’t even realize. You can’t control it. He clicks his tongue at this, gives your face a little shake as he says, “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up? Unless you want all of your coworkers to know you’re letting your boss fuck the shit out of you like a whore? That what you want?”

He pulls back out and then slams in again. You let out another cry, body jolting at the force. And he starts just pounding into you.

You asked for this.

How the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he goes from 0 to 100 like that? Holy fuck.

“Oh, so you do? You want them all to know I’m making you my slut after humiliating you for your shitty writing? C’mon, speak up. Can’t hear you. Use your fucking words.”

All while snapping his hips harshly into yours, out one moment, deep inside the next. You can barely take it. You swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach. Hardly even register his degrading words because you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even control the loud noises coming out of your mouth, although you desperately try.

Tears prickle your eyes, not because it hurts but because you’re overwhelmed. He’s so hard to figure out. Acting like he’s gonna tease you one moment, and then fucking you like he’s trying to split you in half the next.

He lets out a grunt at your lack of response and ends up squishing your cheeks harder, forcing your mouth open. He leans down slightly and fucking spits in your mouth and then stuffs his fingers back in your mouth, “Actually, just shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth busy and shut the fuck— ah, fuck— the fuck up.”

Fucking disgusting. Fucking hot.

The way his words falter and he loses train of thought for a second makes your pussy clench deliciously around him. Because it’s confirmation that he is just as affected as you are. Just as fucked up right now.

You both look a mess. Your shirt is torn open, your skirt all crooked and pushed up to your waist, and your panties aren’t even fully off. His shirt is still damp with spit, his pants only halfway pulled down and now there’s a creamy white stain on the front of them from your juices dripping down his dick.

It’s heaven, honestly. Or maybe hell. You aren’t sure. But it feels so fucking good.

His hips piston into your cunt hard and fast, and you do your best to focus on sucking his fingers, but the pressure is building fast. You can feel your pussy start to flutter, your clit throbbing, begging to be paid attention to. He can feel it too, it’s making him go crazy because of how responsive you are.

He slams home one more time before staying there, swiveling his hips in a circle so that his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, giving it the minimal amount of attention that has you nearly seeing stars, almost there, but not quite.

“Need more?” He pants out.

You nod your head quickly, his fingers covered in your saliva at this point. Dripping in the essence of you just like his cock. He nods back, removes his other hand from your hip, and settles it at the bottom of your belly, pushing down and placing his thumb over your clit. He starts flicking it fast and starts fucking into you again, picking up the pace so that the room fills with wet squelching noises and skin slapping.

The way he’s pushing onto your tummy while rubbing your clit, Jesus fuck… it’s intense. Makes it feel like he is inside of your stomach. So fucking deep.

Yup. That does it. The stagnant pressure starts building rapidly, he can feel it too. Your pussy starts tightening and fluttering beautifully around his girth. You’re making the prettiest noises, still quiet thanks to his fingers stuffed in your mouth but he can hear you the perfect amount.

God, it’s so perfect, he thinks.

You, you’re not thinking at all. He really is fucking you stupid. Your eyes are continuously rolling back and your hips buck into his thrusts desperately, quickly approaching your climax.

He flicks your clit back and forth, fast but precisely, “C’mon baby, give it to me. Fucking cum all over me. Make a mess. Ungh— god you’re such a fucking slut.”

And that sends you. Out of everything, something about Namjoon calling you a slut just fucking does it for you. You let out a muffled moan, that would be a scream most likely if his fingers weren’t sheathed into your mouth. Your legs tremble and your body shudders through the force of your orgasm.

Your pussy throbs violently, walls rippling around his cock as you finally see those stars. It feels fucking amazing, makes tears fall down your cheek. You can barely breathe because of the force of how fucking good it feels to cum on his cock.

This is his end too. He simply can’t hold back when he feels the vice grip of your pussy desperately trying to keep his cock in place, the rippling of your walls nearly feels like vibrations. He lets out another groan, but it almost comes out like a whine. Very subtly. His face is scrunched up and his mouth open as his hips stutter, his cock spilling and filling up the condom.

It goes on and on. Neither of you thinking about how much you hate each other, only thinking about how good it feels to be together like this. He swears he’s never had sex better than this. You feel the same.

The reality of it all is hate sex is unmatched. Especially when tensions build for so long and you both act as if you can’t stand each other… who knew a fuck could’ve helped with that?

At the last twitch of his cock, when your pussy becomes overstimulated and sore, he collapses on top of you. Both of you panting harshly, catching your breaths as your hearts beat in unison.

He removes his spit-covered fingers from your mouth, and he places lazy little kisses on your skin. He isn’t even sure where, too fucked out to pay attention, just anywhere he can reach while he rests on top of you. It’s an oddly tender gesture. A little sweet, even.

It’s silent for a few minutes. And you both start to realize what you’ve done. You just fucked your technical boss… he just fucked one of his co-writers.

Definitely shouldn’t have happened.

He can’t find himself regretting it though. He feels so light, that he could almost smile. As much of an excuse as it was at first, it genuinely helped with the tension. He’s not quite as irritated with you. Does he like you now? Fuck no.

But the more post-nut clarity comes to fruition… the more he thinks he can tolerate you. Maybe even work with you, compromise with you.

You on the other hand… you don’t know how to feel. You don’t regret it, because fuck, it did help with the tension. You feel lighter too. Not as sensitive. Not as hateful.

Maybe it was for the best. It’s not like anyone has to know, anyway. It’s like couples counseling sort of… except you’re definitely not a couple, and you both still cannot stand each other.

But you can tolerate each other now that most of the tension is gone for the time being.

“You good?”

He tears you away from your thoughts, and you look up at him with bleary eyes. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing despite his dislike for you, he’s still checking to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.

Well, he crossed several lines. But, you aren’t complaining. You’re glad he did. Glad he reduced you to this.

“I’m fucking great.”

That earns you a little chuckle. He sighs a breath of relief, was worried he went a bit too hard or did too much, especially since you didn’t set any boundaries beforehand. But you took what he gave you and you took it like a fucking champ, he thinks.

He reluctantly gets off of you because now that you’re both a bit more clear-headed, the couch feels a little too small, and he doesn’t wanna crush you.

His softening cock is still inside of you, so he braces a hand on the couch and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the feeling. He watches in awe as your juices flow freely out of you. God, what a pretty pussy, he thinks.

He dips a finger back into your heat, causing you to let out a little noise of surprise. But he removes it quickly, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, wiggling his brows.

Ugh.

He pats your thigh before getting off of the couch, taking the condom off, and tying it up to chuck it in the trash. He stuffs his soft and sensitive cock back into his underwear and pulls up his pants, feeling utterly satiated now. Bubbly and light, even though he won’t show it. He makes his way to the little fridge in his studio and he grabs two bottles of water, tosses you one which you barely catch.

You gulp down the water gratefully, parched considering he stole most of your fucking spit. Asshole.

He begins walking into the bathroom attached to his studio as he says, “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up. Then we can look at those lyrics again and see if it still sounds like kids bop now that I’ve fucked you stupid.”

At your immediate glare, he lets out a laugh, and shrugs innocently, “What? Pussy is magic, can change a man’s mind about a lot of things. Now hurry up, you’re a fucking mess.”

And with that, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

Yeah. Fuck him. Still insufferable.

But god, you really do hope to fuck him again.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon fanfic #smut #fiction #fanfic #kim namjoon fanfic #bts smut #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #faceclaim

[heavenblvd]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

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