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nmjoo-n · 22 hours ago
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FADE INTO YOU 🦢 jeon jungkook.
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pair. barista! jungkook x f. reader | genre. friends with benefits, romance, jealousy, angst | warnings. possessiveness, profanity, pet names, unprotected sex, slight toxic behavior, degradation kink, zenophilia, oral sex, edging, spit kink, exhibitionism, smoking | word count. 4.7k
synopsis. “oh angel, for how fucking adorable you are, you sure don’t use that pretty little brain of yours much,” or jungkook has no limits when it comes to you. you’re his, he’s gonna get it through your head, eventually.
You dared bring another fucking guy in his work place.
Was it deliberate? God knows you love your little fucking mind games, especially if Jungkook’s on the receiving end. Oh, he was beyond furious. He had half a mind to spit in the fuckers coffee and smugly watch as he drinks that shit, completely unaware as he desperately tries to shove his tongue down your throat after that, one date in.
But you’d know. You were always better at reading him, deciphering the different expressions on his face. He ought to bruise your fucking ass for this, spank you till you’re dripping wet for him, and then shove his cock in your mouth, facefuck you until your stupid hole is sore, and your cunt is clenching for no one but him.
What a pathetic loser. What the fuck did you see in this clown?
“Dude, you’re shaking. You okay?” Jimin nudges him with his elbow, raising a questioning eyebrow, black hair falling in his curious eyes.
Jungkook shakes his head, and removes his apron angrily, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and phone with him. He knows he’s being unreasonable; you’re single, and beautiful, God so fucking beautiful it physically hurts him, and he’s just the lucky guy that gets to fuck you whenever you’re up for it, nothing more, nothing less. A supporting character. Fuck, he knows. But his feelings are for him, they’re private, and right now they’re out of fucking control.
The urge to punch your date in the throat is driving him up a wall. He needs to get the fuck away from here—away from you and your innocent, ignorant ways. Deep breaths, deep fucking breaths Jeon, she hasn’t fucked him yet, and don’t you dare picture that, don’t be a fucking dick, walk away, walk away now.
“I’m going on break,” he announces, but he’s already on the other side of the counter, going for the door, hands busy with the lighter you gifted him on his birthday.
You’ve said your hello’s, you exchanged the necessary, polite words you do every time you see each other in public so there’s nothing else to say. He doesn’t look at you as he passes by, can’t bear to. There’s nothing else you could possibly want with him, not unless it’s after hours, behind closed bedroom doors. Or bathroom ones—or rooftops, staircases, couches, balconies, the beach that one time, his car, the steering wheel digging into your lower back, just last week—no.
Not fucking going there.
Sitting on the ledge right outside the shop, he puts the cig in his mouth, bringing that silver lighter close to it, lighting the edge of it. Taking an inhale of the stick between his fingers, he feels the harmful calm it produces overtake him for the first time that day. He needed nicotine like he needed your pussy pressed against his face, especially since you walked in with that lame looking motherfucker after you told him you’d call.
You never did.
Jungkook doesn’t want to be this way; he never used to curse this much, smoke this much, not before he met you. You’ve tested him in every possible way a man can be tested, have haunted his every waking thought, have wrapped him around your pretty fucking finger and are twirling him around in a never ending, whiplash inducing dance out of which there’s no escape. He’d do anything for you, be anything for you, god he already has, but you couldn’t care less. There was no love in you for him—not the kind he has for you.
Trust him, he wishes he could cut all ties with you, forget you. Stop loving you so goddamn much. But there’s no button for that, no way he can get out of his own body, discard his heart.
Goddamn him, his fucking dick is hard just with the proximity of you. Knowing you were near, having smelled your perfume earlier, the sweetness of your scent mixed with vanilla and something floral, something he’s only smelled on you, and that cursed mini skirt, fuck him, with those legs of yours… legs he’s had wrapped around his torso, over his shoulders, legs he’s kissed a thousand times over, has run his hands over, has worshipped.
No, you couldn’t do this to him. This is the last time you fuck him over, the last time he lets you—he’s going to put you in your fucking place, he decides. He’s going to have to show you who’s been there for you, who fucks you dumb, senseless—who’s cock you’ve been screaming for over and over again, who’s cum you’re craving down your throat almost every night.
Who you belong to. Because fuck anyone that dares so much as think they can have you. You’re his. He just has to get it through that thick head of yours, once and for all. Before he goes fucking insane.
Finishing his smoke, he ties his hair back and away from his face, getting off your Instagram page at once. Look at him, obsessing over your whereabouts, the tags on your pictures, who you’re with when he’s not with you. In you. Fucking ridiculous.
He goes to your last text conversation, a curt message from you two days ago at three in the morning. His eyes skim over it, reading it in your drunk voice, that delicious slur of your tongue, the way you must’ve slowly blinked at his texting you so late in the night. He wants you to think of him always, all goddamn day. As much as he does.
He wants you as obsessed as him.
[03:21am] just came home.
[03:22am] it’s late (y/n). go to sleep.
He decides to text you, then. Make sure you know he’s not going to let this go, that you’re taking it too far coming there, dressed like that, and with another man when his seed is still inside of you.
[19:07pm] is this my replacement? disappointed in you sweetheart.
If Jungkook’s good at anything—he knows how to get a good rise out of you. All that’s left is to sit patiently and wait. You’ll come to him, eventually. You always do.
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A half an hour later, you’re standing in front of him, manicured nails digging into your crossed arms in barely contained anger.
He wipes his hands with a rug, giving Jimin the drinks he’d just made, completely ignoring your thunderous glaring. He feels those eyes pierce through his soul, though. How can he not—he’s never been very good at pretending, and God knows you demand all of his attention.
“Replacement? Really, Jungkook?”
Jimin looks between the two of you, sensing the tension. He’s always suspected there’s something going on, but that just confirmed it. Failing to hide his smirk, he balances the tray in one palm and fucks off to the last remaining table for the day.
“Am I wrong?” Jungkook stares at your mouth, the dark stain of your lips, the curve of your jaw, those ample cheeks of yours—you’ve such a cute fuckable face, it’s one of his worst weaknesses.
He can never stay mad at you for long.
“You are.”
“My apologies, angel.”
The sarcasm doesn’t escape you.
You sigh, leaning against the counter, extending both hands towards him. He blinks at them, his own morphing into fists at his sides. He wouldn’t cave in, not this time. You needed to be taught a lesson. You needed to stop refusing him, treating him like second choice.
“Can we talk about this later?” You say in that velvet voice of yours, the one that never fails to hypnotize him into submission. “He’s waiting for me outside.”
Jungkook let’s out a dry laugh, nodding his head bitterly at your words. There’s no magic behind them today, no spell. “We wouldn’t want him to wait,” he deadpans.
“Jungkook.”
“(Y/N).”
You huff, and remove yourself from the bar completely. His body instinctively moves closer, but his mind is set. A terrible fucking jealousy is eating him alive, setting him aflame.
“You’re acting childish.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not the one two-timing people,” he retorts as calmly as possible, wanting to hurt you a little. Nothing like how you’ve hurt him. “Does he know how filthy you like getting fucked? How there’s another man that knows his way around your body like the palm of his fucking hand?”
You step back, face betraying guilt. “Stop it.”
He shrugs, and winks at you, proud of himself. “It’s the truth, angel. Don’t bring him into this if you don’t want him getting hurt.”
“You’re such an asshole, Jeon Jungkook,” you snapped, eyes glittering with tears. Jungkook looked away at once, his jaw clenching in annoyance.
Are you really taking that fuckers side? How long have you known him? Maybe a fucking week, if he had to guess. Jungkook has had you for years.
“Don’t ruin this for me,” you demanded, stomping your foot like a little kid.
Jimin had returned to his post next to his friend, and was witnessing your amusing temper tantrum. He also noticed the younger man’s struggle, the effort it took to stay put in that place of his.
“Ruin?” He mused over the word out loud, then laughed wholeheartedly, with his entire chest. It was an empty sound, a patronizing thing. “If you want to go with him, be my fucking guest baby girl. But if you do,” he warns, forearm resting on the wood in front of him. “you better forget about me. I’m not fucking sharing you.”
You stood hurt, a sour expression curving those perfect lips downwards, weighing your options. This was the moment Jungkook would finally see if you truly thought anything of him, if he mattered enough for you. Or at least if he was more important than a random guy you picked off a club. And God he hoped, for your sake, you picked him. Otherwise he would not be responsible for the Hell he’d give you afterwards.
Who he’d become if you dropped him. He’s scared of himself.
“What’s it going to be?” He presses, pinning you in place with those dark orbs. “Don’t make me become someone I don’t want to be, honey. You and I both know you’ll regret it.”
“Fuck you.”
Jungkook smiles at you, all charm and danger. “It’d be my pleasure.”
When you sulkily sit on the bar stool, and start typing on your phone, your decision sets in him. You chose him. His chest swells, his cock straining against his pants. He’d take you right then and there if he could; lift you on top of the counter, and fuck into you until all you know is his name, until all other men pale in comparison to him. What he does instead—he pulls your face in for a bruising kiss, his big hand cupping your jaw tightly, his tongue forcing your lips open.
“Get a room, Jesus,” he hears Jimin mutter, but he could give less of a fuck. He’s waited way too long for this. Let them watch, I know how to put on a fucking show.
You melt under his touch, letting him consume you. He growls low, and bites down on your bottom lip. You moan, and everything blurs—you’re alone. He craves nothing but you, needs to have you before insanity renders him incapable of fucking you properly.
“I’m getting off early,” he hesitantly pulls back and slaps Jimin’s chest, apron coming off in a blink of an eye.
“Sure, yeah, cause you can do that,” his friend sarcastically replies, but lets him go anyway.
“Don’t be too mad at him,” you add, smiling sweetly. Jimin smiles back, can’t help it. Jungkook glares, messenger bag over his shoulder, and jumps over the wooden top in one swift move.
“Stop fucking staring, Park,” he wraps an arm around your waist protectively, and takes you away. “I’m off!”
You barely made it to the car, before Jungkook turned you around, locking you between the passenger door and his muscled chest. His knee pushed between your legs, your hands on his sides squeezing the skin there. His head dipped to your ear, voice soothing you open, receptive. When his fingers disappeared beneath your skirt, a gasp tore through your throat, goosebumps rising on your skin.
You wanted him too, your pussy told him so. Your panties were all creamed up, thighs begging to be rubbed together to provide any sort of friction. He gave it to you, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your clit. You were throbbing—fuck how much he loved this.
“Tell me baby girl, were you going to keep him around for me to watch while you get fucked? You know you only have to ask,” he whispered, teasing you with those long fucking fingers of his.
In plain sight, for everyone to see. Christ.
“Like Hell you would,” you retort, breathless. “You’re a selfish man, Jungkook.”
He smirks at that, clicks his tongue against his teeth, and chuckles darkly. “You’re right on that,” he pulls you on him and rubs his erection against your clothed cunt. “Can’t let no one touch what is mine.”
“I’m not yours.” A weak remark, as your hips moved with his. He ignored it entirely.
He saw your naked neck, the way you swallowed, and attacked the sensitive skin there, grazing it with his teeth, sucking harshly on it. You hissed at the sensation, yet wanted more. What a contradiction of a woman, Jungkook thought, pulling me in but pushing me away. Unfortunately, for what he was planning on doing to you, he couldn’t be seen.
“Oh, but you are,” he whispers against your cheek, cuffing both of your wrists in one hand behind your back, slowly opening the car door for you to get in. “Oh angel, for how fucking adorable you are, you sure don’t use that pretty little brain of yours much.”
He lowered his head to be on eye level with you. He couldn’t possibly make it any clearer, not unless he bought a ring and put some babies in you.
“I own you.”
Your eyes told him so. The musk on his fingers guaranteed it. He smacked the door shut, licking your juices clean off. You tasted like fucking paradise.
He’d fucking destroy you.
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Jungkook loved your neck, how easily it could turn purple, how perfect his hand fit around it, almost like it was made for him. He wouldn’t doubt it for a fucking second—the rest of you molded all over him, every nook and cranny.
Lifting you up the kitchen table, he felt like taking you raw, just like that; pushing your skirt up and burying himself in your folds. His thumb hooked between your lips, pressed down to open your mouth, your gaze following his movements closely. Pudding in his hands, to do whatever he pleased. Every time.
“Look at my little slut,” he admired, pushing his thumb in his second favorite hole of yours. “Suck, baby, show me what that mouth does best.” You did, your tongue swiping all around, over and under, wetting and sucking dry, repeating again and again, until Jungkook was satisfied.
He never was. If he could, he’d fucking snort you up, have you run through his bloodstream for the rest of time. His perfect fucking girl, the one that refuses to give into him, the one that drives him mad.
“Are you thinking about him?” He asks you, the same jealousy nibbling at him. It never left—it never leaves. “How his fingers taste, how they’d curl inside that cunt of yours? It’s fucking morphine, did you know, sweetheart? Why do you think you got me on my knees for you?”
He removes his digit, and decides playtime is over. He’s been lenient enough. You notice exactly when the change takes place, when his eyes darken, and your breathing quickens, fear replacing exhilaration. This was the cruel man that could make you come just with his filthy words. As much as you fucking loved it, he was ruthless—absolutely brutal.
“No,” you mumble, shaking your head. “No, Kook, no, I never—”
Not your coffee boy, but the one that uses a belt to teach you lessons. The one that always knows just how far you’re willing to go.
“Shut the fuck up. You knew what you were doing.”
Jungkook spits in your open mouth, squeezing your throat submissive. You struggle to breathe, but you take it, tightening your thighs around his hips in shameful arousal. He watches you swallow, tongue coming out to show him, just as he likes. He rewards you with a suffocating kiss, before he does it again.
“I bet you wondered how his dick would feel against those velvet fucking walls of yours,” he continued his verbal torture, his other hand pushing your panties to the side, feeling your slick, lapping it with his index, before shoving three fingers inside you at once. You hissed, nails digging holes on his shoulders.
“Yeah?” He fucks you with his entire hand, palm rubbing against your clit. You can’t think of nothing else but getting filled to the brim. “Your mouth works doesn’t it, honey?”
“No one’s fucked me but you in two years,” you confess in a haze, looking at him through your eyelids. Silver shone on his lip and eyebrow under the hidden lighting of his apartment. A shadow draped in gold.
You saw the movement of his jaw, the way his mouth became a thin line. He obviously enjoyed hearing that. But was it enough? Fuck no.
“But they’ve touched you,” he bitterly concludes. “They’ve tasted my pussy, my lips… haven’t they?” He sounded so miserable, so resentful. Your heart ached for him.
You loved this man, but he would never believe you, and you can’t blame him. You loved him in a different way, the only way you knew how. And he did the same. You met and crashed like waves. Your silence was answer enough.
The next moment struck like lightning. All you felt was pain, as he pushed you down on your elbows and ripped your panties off you in one movement. You weren’t even able to scream, the action barely registering in your brain.
“Unbutton my shirt,” he instructed you, no part of him touching you whatsoever. A shudder rippled through you, and down to your unclothed pussy. You scrambled to do as told, afraid of the consequences, hands shaking.
Jungkook groaned impatiently. “Stupid fucking whore, can’t even do something as simple as this,” he snarled at your face, every ounce of affection gone. “D’you need help, sweetheart? Perhaps a manual? None of this is helping your case, you know.”
“I’m—I’m sorry, please,” you whimper, hurrying to undo the stubborn buttons.
He cocked an eyebrow, gaze vicious. Hateful. Something kicked inside of you, a horrifying feeling—you were losing him. He was going to leave you after this. All he’s ever wanted, all you very much were aware of that he craved most—to have you all to himself, to call you his. You never gave it to him, always held back, and for what you’ve no idea. But this, having your body, pleasuring the both of you, it was the one thing if not the only part he had, the one thing he could do, he was allowed.
“Please,” he repeated, the word seemingly unfamiliar to him. “Please, what? Are you sorry at all, baby girl? Do you want me to go easy on you?”
You shake your head again, pushing the shirt off him, bulky muscle now exposed, the chiseled chest you so loved running your tongue over, and the V disappearing beneath his boxers, inviting, nearly a threat.
“Fuck me,” you pleaded, reaching a hand out to touch him, his most private part. “Please. I know I’ve hurt you, I’m sorry, please set me straight, fuck it out of me, I want only you, I promise, only you.”
“Lies,” he shouts, and lunges at you, pinning you down by your waist, skirt pulled roughly from your body. You’re met with the ceiling, but won’t dare move, won’t make a sound unless he tells you to. It’s a thin fucking line you’re walking on, one you haven’t experienced a whole lot.
You hear a shuffling of sorts, before a thud and then you feel it—his hot breath on your cold folds. Those veiny hands on your hips again, before he devours you. The vibration of his growling sends you into a frenzy, and you clench around nothing. Your clit between his sinful lips he sucks painfully at first, wanting to hurt you, but gently afterwards, after your cries settle and you’ve accepted your fate.
You’re at his mercy, and you better behave.
“Used fucking pussy,” he spits on it, fingers working together with his mouth to get you ready for his bulging cock. “What am I supposed to do with a second hand slut like you, huh? Begging to be filled with dick, dripping over my kitchen table…” he tsk’s, tongue flat against your wetness. “You don’t fucking need me, right, I’m just another naive guy wrapped around your goddamn finger, you could have me replaced at any time.”
“That’s not true!” you cry out immediately, hand getting lost in his thick brown locks. “Fuck!” A slap cuts the air—on your pussy. And he does it again, smacks the sensitive area until it’s red and throbbing and licking all over his chin.
“Quiet,” he snaps. “I can make it hurt like never before, honey, don’t fucking test me.”
You’re certain you’re losing your mind by that point, the ache between your legs overwhelming everything else, the thought of needing his cock like you need oxygen the only reasonable solution to making the pain go away. You’re coming before you know it, and Jungkook is a starving man, he licks it all up, licks you dry, marveling at the way your body responds to him, always has.
If only your heart would do the same. If only there was something he could do to make it beat only for him, as his does for you.
“No one will make you come like I do, sweetheart, God my fucking witness. No one knows their way around this pussy like I do, no one will fucking take the time.”
You go to sit up, pull him into you, needing comfort, needing your friend back, the one that made you feel good because you asked, not the half mad one, the obsession, the misshapen thing—for once you need his warm love, the one he’s been talking about, the one hiding behind the heartbreak. You don’t care how awful that is, how selfish you sound.
His palm presses down on your stomach as he towers over you, taking all light with him, flushed cock standing proudly between you, inches away from where you need it most. If he would just move closer, if perhaps you could wiggle further down the table…
“Do not fucking move, angel,” he warns, kissing your sobs silent. With a flick of his wrist, your breasts are in full view, his fingers pinching the erect nipples, calloused palms slapping the plump skin, abusing it.
Every touch vibrates directly in your cunt. You’ve become a blubbering mess, needing nothing but that long stick between his legs. A whore, as he said, a whore with no other purpose than taking dick, his dick, only his, because he’s the only one you want, the only one you need, the only one touching you like this, pushing your limits, driving you over the edge—
“Look at you, my beautiful mess,” he kisses your lips again and again, yet refuses to touch your core. Endless torture, when will it end, when will it end! “Do you understand now? This is what it feels having you under me every night, yet not having you at all,” he shushes your gut wrenching cries, removes your hands from your face, forces you to look at him. “My baby, my love…” he coo’s tenderly, caressing all the way down your body, before his arms hook under your thighs.
He positions you just at the edge of the round table, and quickly leans to lap at your cunt one last time. Christ, fucking Heaven in a woman; it’s alright sweetheart, it’s over, shhh, no more crying, I got you where I want you, I’ll take care of you now, no more crying, fuck if you could see yourself right now, so goddamn hot, a fucking vision just for me, just for your man, you perfect angel, you perfect fucking thing, all for me, all this for me—
You couldn’t describe the tidal wave of relief that washed over you as soon as he buried himself inside you. Both hands on your waist, he slammed you down onto his rock hard cock, his pace fast, relentless, absolutely everything you could’ve ever asked for.
“Harder, fuck, fucking kill me! Don’t stop, please, please, please, please…” incoherent thoughts jumbled together in a string of words, yet Jungkook understood perfectly.
Of course he did.
“Fucking slut…only way you deserve to be fucked…I’m gonna flip this cunt inside out, sweetheart, so no one will be able to screw you. You’re taking my cock so well, baby girl, fuck I want to tear you apart, I want to write my name in this pussy, mark it,” he growled in your ear, manhandling you like a goddamn lifeless doll, pistoling into you with incredible force, so much so you’d think he’d bruise you from the inside, but you couldn’t stop begging him to do so, all of it feeling oh so fucking good.
You want me to mark you, don’t you, you want me drilling into you all fucking day, I know you do, you insatiable goddamn pain in the ass, let me hear you, scream for me, baby, let me know who’s fucking you—say my name, he tightens his grip on your throat, his eyes insane with lust.
“Say my fucking name.”
“Jungkook,” you moan into his hair, nails scratching down his back.
“That’s right, baby. Again.”
“Jungkook!”
I fucking love you, sweetheart, I don’t give a fuck if you never love me back, just give me this pussy, let me drown in it, let me get lost and hide forever in your folds, yeah baby? Come for me now, cream on my dick sweet thing, c’mon, one two three—you scream at the top of your lungs, holding onto him for fear life as your body convulses violently, his own release spurting in thick white strips on your stomach as he barely manages to pull out, and everything goes black. He keeps you on him until you calm down, his pace slow and steady, fucking you both back down to reality.
Your breathing is incredibly labored, hair sticking on your forehead. You look so fucking beautiful to him, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. His pretty girl. He kisses your forehead overtaken by the strange feeling in his chest.
“God—I love you, you know?” You mumble against his chin, suddenly very shy.
Jungkook stills, his entire world pausing its spinning. “What did you just say?”
You try to cover your face, but to no avail. He’s much stronger than you, much more determined to look into those eyes that could never lie to him. You could make him the happiest man on earth or send him down to the darkest pits of Hell with just three words.
“I love you,” you repeat hesitantly, looking up at him. His expression crumbles. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, that I’m late and you probably want nothing more to do with me after this, but—”
His palm slams your mouth shut. Your eyes widen in surprise.
Jungkook then, still inside you, looks at you with the fondest look on his face, his body weight pressing down on you in the most delicious way.
“You’ve no idea what the fuck you’re saying right now, sweetheart, so I’ll forgive you,” he blinks, bewildered, in disbelief. “I never said I’m leaving you. It’s never crossed my mind.”
You furrow your eyebrows, but your words are muffled. He seems to comprehend perfectly well, anyway.
“You could kill me if you wanted, and I’d willingly die by your hand, (Y/N). Have you any idea what it means to love you?”
When he kisses you again, you think you can begin to understand.
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sevensigils · a day ago
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ONE NIGHT IN | obey me
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KINKTOBER DAY #5. X LUCIFER. 859 WORDS.
pairing + lucifer x gender neutral reader
includes + biting/marking, orgasm denial, fucking in his study
warning(s) + mentions of alcohol, bruising, squirting
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The sight of your slightly marked up, trembling body almost made Lucifer want to tear you to shreds with little to no mercy. You were spending a very long night together; an interesting trail of events was promised the moment you and Lucifer sat down in his study, enjoying a type of wine that was a little too strong for your liking, but you downed it anyways – who are you to deny anything Lucifer: the Avatar of Pride offers you?
Neither of you made much small talk; as the night crept on, the need, your desire to be devoured by this demon grew stronger with the rising moon. The flickering flames on each of Lucifer’s candles resembled the frantic beating of your heart – the fire was just as excited as you were – just as curious and needy. Before you knew it, you were both stripped of your clothing, engaging in acts that you no longer had to dream of, as it was all happening in a flash – in just one swift night.
“You didn’t slip anything in my drink, did you?” you ask, taking a deep inhale as Lucifer slowly slides his cock inside you. He musters a chuckle, shaking his head in a feigned disappointment. “Goodness, no,” he is focused on getting himself snug between your tight walls, “I have no business doing such a thing.” He was amused by your inquiry, because, while he truly did nothing to your drink, it didn’t take long for you to give in to your emotions. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly towards me.”
He thrusts as gently as the beast inside him will allow and pulls back out, repeating this with a steady pace. A weak moan escapes his parted lips, causing you to squirm beneath him. Lucifer lowers his torso, pressing the front of him against you, satisfied with the feeling of your hardened nipples rubbing against his bare chest. His mouth finds its way to your neck, and he takes his time; kiss by sultry kiss, the demon leaves a trail scented of blood-red wine on your skin.
Lucifer’s hips pick up speed a bit, and you find yourself covered in goosebumps, chills rolling over the surface of your skin in little bursts. You lift your lower torso and press against him; eager to feel all of his length inside you. His hands are holding your own above your head, intertwined fingers sending butterflies aflutter in your stomach. “Tell me you’re mine.” He suddenly growls, and you feel his sharp teeth just barely sink into your shoulder. Your eyes shut tightly and as you wrap your legs around Lucifer’s waist, he loosens his grasp and bites back down on a new, untainted area of your neck, causing you to yelp. “I-I’m yours, I’m all yours.”
“Good, darling, that’s what I like to hear,” Lucifer hums, taking one hand and holding your lifted leg in place. “M- Lucifer,” your voice is broken and shaky – you’re so caught up in the feeling of his cock pressing violently against your lustfulness, you can barely utter a word. His lips curl into a smirk as he leans back, looking down at you, his lower waist smacking effortlessly against you. “Hm? What is it?” Your efforts in trying to speak make him feel pleased with himself. He’s fucking you good – he knows that. He just likes the extra confirmation.
Your eyes start to roll in the back of your head, almost in sync with your pleasurable, high-pitched moans. “O-oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” your heart is thumping in your chest, and all signs of elation are making themselves known – you feel as if you are going to burst, and you try to close your legs – before you squirt everywhere – but Lucifer has other plans.
“Ah-ah-ah..” The demon grips both of your legs, spreading them in a way that allows him to keep a firm grasp on your ankles. “You’ll cum when I say you can, understand?”
With a slight nod, you try your hardest to remain quiet as your orgasm builds up; threatening to pile over any second. The way Lucifer was looking at you made you feel absolutely humiliated – like a slut with no self-control – with every thrust, you could feel the marks and bruises he left on your neck and shoulders. Your cheeks grew feverish; beads of sweat forming at the base of your collarbones, half-lidded eyes limiting your vision to the taunting essence of Lucifer’s gaze.
He leaned towards you, his cheek brushing against yours as his mouth brushed ever so slightly over your ear. “Go ahead.”
The sound of the smugness in his voice alone was enough to send you over the edge, your release gradually soaking the surface of his desk. “I’m – mmh – aah!” your vocal ecstasy was the most exciting thing to him in this moment. “Made such a mess of yourself, love,” he mused as he gently eased you through your orgasm, getting a quick taste of you from his index and middle fingers before passionately pressing his lips against yours.
Upon pulling away, his eyelashes fluttered and he smiled.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
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bvlnoriyas · a day ago
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bestie 🥰 beloved 💕 bastard 🔪
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tattooine · 16 hours ago
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SUZUKA, 2022 - by Zak Mauger
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unstatedmartini · 2 days ago
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The Ghostly Prisoners of Alcatraz | Ghost Files
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percocet · 12 days ago
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23/09/2022: Gerard Way about a mannequin leg
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mairella · 8 days ago
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x
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brawn-gp · a month ago
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Charles Leclerc talking to Rosanna Tennant after the 2022 Dutch GP Qualifying
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haleths · 5 months ago
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TOLKIEN WEEK | Favourite Film ➼ The Return of the King
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self-scammer-inc · 3 months ago
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joel: as soon as i take damage, etho retorts. this man is a child, if hes doing this on purpose
etho: every time he takes damage i have to take damage so he learns
i love these two
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soyouwinagain · 25 days ago
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Daniel & George post-Monza 2022
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nmjoo-n · 5 days ago
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DREAM GIRL 💭 kim namjoon.
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pair. writer! namjoon x f. reader | genre. age gap romance, obsession, love at first sight, angst | warnings. corruption kink, profanity, slight stalker behavior, daddy kink, pet names, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, power imbalance, just filthy sex tbh | word count. 3.7k
synopsis. “tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?” or namjoon is completely enamored by your angelic innocence, and absolutely has to claim you.
Kim Namjoon spent most of his time reading.
His most recent binge had been Murakami books, the woman through a man’s point of view, and while fascinating—it lacked depth. Intensity. This author clearly understood the peculiar sex very little, was entirely focused on his love for them, and their reaction to it. If it was Namjoon, he’d let them lead the narrative, while he’d step back and observe.
Women were to be observed, understood, before approached. This is how he found you, a perfect little angel in your white dress, sipping coffee outside his neighborhood’s café, softly talking to a grey, stray cat, your hand extended out for it, your fingers delicate in their calling. You stopped him dead on his tracks. He could do nothing but stare.
You looked so peaceful in your oblivion, your hair up and away from your face, a book propped on your knees. Namjoon’s feet moved without his knowledge, his mind replaying one thing—I have to see your face, your beautiful features, I need to meet you, sweetheart. Shamefully, his cock stirred in his pants, alerting him of his improper intentions. No matter. He couldn’t control his response to you, didn’t want to.
Walking in the coffeehouse, he leaned against the tall counter, head lazily falling into his open palm, gaze following your every move. Ordering his usual drink, he gathered the courage to approach you. You seemed to like this cat, so, perhaps an animal lover, and you most certainly were a reader—it was a start, an opening for him.
Clouds were beginning to gather, September coming to an end, but you paid no mind to them, your eyes scanning the pages of whatever you were reading. His writer brain was romanticizing your entire existence, was picturing you under him, in his arms, consumed, defiled, claimed. A pretty little thing dancing in the rain, running towards him, laughing, the outline of your breasts visible for anyone to see.
Henry Miller would’ve been one jealous fucker if he’d ever known you were out there, years ahead of him, a muse for the taking. Namjoon thanked every fucking God known for putting you in his way. Bukowski would be having a field day fantasizing about your honey dripping thighs and sweet pussy. You are every writer’s dream, sweetheart, and do you even realize?
“Beautiful choice,” he comments on the book in your lap, coming to stand over you, desperately trying not to lose it over your angel features.
You jump, startled, and look up to witness the most breathtaking man you’ve ever come across in your life, smiling down at you. You smile back without meaning to, your back straightening, your shoe clad feet touching the pavement.
“Anaïs is for the bold,” you retort, voice light, motioning for him to sit in the empty chair opposite you.
He’s massive, with strong arms and long legs. He thanks you softly and takes the seat, paper cup in hand, eyes piercing through you in an identifiable way. You shiver—blame it on the chilly day.
“Are you bold, then?” He asks cryptically, leaning into you. You feel exposed, but intrigued. So incredibly intrigued.
You falter in giving him your answer. You don’t even know his name. You don’t think it matters. “I—I try, I think.”
He smirks, and pulls away, taking with him his amber scent and magnetism. You miss it as soon as it’s gone. You reason with yourself, try to find an explanation for your thought’s reaction—your body’s.
“I’m Namjoon, sweetheart. What should I call you?” His voice was velvet; deep, and manly. It radiated through you.
Closing the book, you instead chose to hold your coffee cup between your hands, a distraction from the intense man pinning you down with those dark eyes. His black leather jacket accentuated his big shoulders, the buzz cut on the top of his head making him appear meaner than he actually was. Namjoon was older, you could tell. It scared you, but in the way rollercoasters make you nervous, or in the way thunder cracked in the night, somewhere far away, miles and miles from you. Bark with no bite.
“(Y/N),” you reply, licking your dry lips.
He follows the movement. “Pretty—(Y/N),” he tries it in his mouth, the sound sinful, inviting. “It’s beautiful.”
He sees your cheeks flush crimson, your head dropping to hide. Namjoon is an intuitive person, a risk-taking man. His fingers reach out, his index lifting your face to look at him. Your breathing has changed, you’re not accustomed to flirting, much less compliments from strangers, it’s all there for him to see. His innocent baby. He’d take his time with you. You deserved nothing less—he’d give you the fucking world, if you so wished.
“Are you a lover of books?” You ask, wanting to break the incantation, disperse the intensity of the moment.
His hand drops, the touch that lit a fire inside of you burning still, bright and strong heading lower, in between your legs, gone in an instant. You mourned for it, yearned for his hand to come back, touch you somewhere else. Your thoughts were shameless, your deepest desires but a breath away.
“You could say that,” he sips from his cup, calm and collected, legs crossed, studying you. “I’m a writer.”
“No way!” You exclaim, your cute reaction eliciting a laugh out of him. How adorable, he thinks, watching your nose scrunch up, your small, fuckable mouth curving in a smile that knocks the wind out of him.
“What about you, angel?”
“I’m a sophomore in college. Literature.”
Of course you are, his smart girl. He needs you to know, before he proceeds. He needs you to vocally say it’s okay for him to court you, to make you his. He won’t lay another finger on you until you do so.
“Sweetheart, you understand the age gap between us, don’t you?”
The part you dreaded. The truth. “Yes,” you say loud enough for just him to hear.
Namjoon leaves his now cold drink on the table, leans forward, forearms resting on top of his knees, fingers lacing together, a serious expression on his flawless face. Is this how it happens, you think? One day, out of the blue, no warning, no signs? Love, plainly in sight, asking you to accept it? You can’t say no. You don’t want to say no, knowing the difficulties, the struggles that entails.
“One word of yours and I’m out of your life. You’re holding the reigns,” he explains, but his eyes are terrified of you rejecting this, of scorning him, of sending him away after he’s found you, an oasis after a long dry desert.
He wants to love you madly. He wants to fuck you senseless, and ruin you for any other man. Most of all, he wants you to want the same things. Eight years isn’t a lot, but it’s a lifetime apart.
“You—you like me?” Your lips fall open, your chest deflates.
Oh, sweetheart, you might not be ready for what I feel for you, what I’m planning to do to you—it’s beyond words. Beyond reason.
“As soon as I saw you. I’m not a talkative person, (Y/N), I don’t walk up to just any girl.” There go those eyes again, haunting your soul, turning you inside out.
You blink, surprised at his honesty, at the bluntness of his words. In your twenty years on this earth, you’ve never been more sure of anything. This man will show you things you’ve never seen before, take you to places you’ve only dreamed of. He’s experienced, he’s an all rounded person.
He’s handsome. His mouth begs to be kissed.
“I like you too,” you admit, but refuse to meet his gaze.
He can’t have that. His fingers shoot out again, gently bringing your face level to his. Rain droplets release themselves from the puffy clouds. You don’t react to any of it, hypnotized under him, under his irresistible touch.
“It will be more than that. I need to know if you’ll be able to handle it, pretty girl. I’m not going to be your high school boyfriend.”
“I understand.” Your thighs clench together, your breathing erratic.
Namjoon notices, of course he does. “Are you a virgin, baby?”
Your eyelashes flutter, the red painting your cheeks turning a shade darker, your skin hot under his palm. He’s closer than ever, this broad man asking if he can take care of you. You’re endeared. Your heart is weak.
“I’m—no. A boy in my senior year,” you reply, embarrassed. Excited.
His eyes flash, something dark stirring in them, before it’s gone instantly. Jealousy. But, why? You couldn’t have possibly known, and even then…the danger. The forbidden. No, that couldn’t have been it.
Why hadn’t you waited? Who dared touched you before him? His muse, his perfect girl. Thoughts that had no place being voiced out loud, in fear of sounding insane. He would never admit to them.
“Then tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?”
His lips were but a breath away. You wanted to give in so badly, anything he wanted, you’d become pudding in his hands, melt away if that meant you’d be with him, if that meant he’d take you with him everywhere. His question. You stayed silent.
“Use your words, (Y/N). I’m not doing anything without your consent.”
You were so wet. So incredibly wet. If only he knew the influence his words had on you… He only had to reach a hand under your dress, touch your core. Then he’d realize just how inexperienced you truly were.
“Never,” you whisper.
You exchanged breaths, your eyes falling shut in the thought of his lips on yours, and it almost happened, the ghost of them faintly pressing, a gentle caress, before he pulls away completely, his hand finding yours, pulling you up with him.
“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you just did to me,” an arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you closer, your head at level with his chest, a man, standing before you, asking to have you.
“I should wait, I should take you out and make sure you’re fed, take care of you, every fucking inch of you, before I even begin to think—do you want this?” His voice is vibrating, filled with his desire, breath now tickling your ear, a whisper between lovers.
You just met Namjoon. You don’t know anything about him, nothing but your attraction to him. Your body’s reaction. So what if this was a bad decision? He didn’t look like a bad guy. Anais Nin wasn’t second guessing herself when she fell into an affair with Henry Miller. It just happened, their souls spoke to each other clearly. Could this be what was happening?
You wanted him inside you. You wanted what he offered, every bit of it. Yes, yes, yes.
“Take me with you, Namjoon.”
Together you run, belongings forgotten; the rain had turned from a faint whispering to a thundering roar in a split second, and it didn’t take long for the both of you to get completely drenched in it, tasting sky water, your small hand in his bigger one, holding tight, fingers intertwining.
He only had to look back once. Your dress was see-through, he could see your white undergarments, the silk of your panties, the cups of your bra. Namjoon growled, a guttural noise boiling from his throat. Immediately, he pulled you in between two buildings, a narrow alleyway leading to apartments’ fire escapes unraveling in the length of it.
Leading you under a small shed, he made sure you were against the wall, covered, while he let his arms rest above your head, your bodies touching. He looked down at you, his breathing labored, and he saw the skin glistening, the fabric sticking on every curve, those pink lips open, fast breaths exhaled.
He kisses you, then. Takes your lips as his own, traps you in his embrace. You taste like cold rain, but when his tongue slips past, there’s hints of coffee with milk. Namjoon smiles against your mouth, hands getting lost in your hair, steadying themselves at the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw, your chin—you fit right into him, so small, so precious. He’s going to love corrupting you, tainting you.
“Has anyone ever touched you…here?” His fingers bunch your dress up, dip under it, over your slick. You gasp—he marvels at your expression.
“No? Baby talk to me, use your pretty mouth,” he kisses you again, his digits moving over your panties. You’re moving with them, rubbing against them, it’s all wet wet wet—
“No one.” Your nails dig into his jacket. He sighs dreamily; you’re a vision for him. An angel send.
“Did that boy not know how to please you, baby? He just shoved his fucking dick in you carelessly?” His voice grew rough, anger rippling through him. “You deserve so much better than that, sweetheart. You deserve to be loved, to be caressed…”
With one hand slipping inside your panties, fingers curling, entering you slowly, the other one ran up and down your thigh, gripping at your waist, snaking its way to the small of your back, and back down. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pumping movements inside you, the long digits bringing you pleasure, making your cunt ache, clench around them.
Namjoon was hiding you from view with his entire body. This was only for him to see, but it also served as a test. To see how far you were willing to go with him.
“You’re doing so well, my sweet girl. So tight, so wet for me… I want to taste you, baby, I want to inhale you. Will you let me?”
Your moans were music to his ears. They started as low pants, your hand blocking most of them, your cheeks that familiar pink shade. He saw it happen, as his fingers curled a specific way, the way your legs fell open wider, the way your voice turned a pitch higher than before, unable to hold back, helpless against your pleasure. Namjoon was rock hard, stifled in his pants.
But that would come shortly. First, he needed to show you—what he can do. What you could have every single day, everywhere, as soon as you spoke the words. He’d cater to your every need, be whatever you wanted him to be. As long as he could have you, take you, own you.
A smack on your ass. Your eyes shot open, staring wide at him. He lifted you up at once, arm under those plump cheeks, his fingers still fucking your cunt vigorously. You yelped, held onto his shoulders in fear of falling, but quickly grew overwhelmed, your volume rising. Fuck him, you’re so fucking hot.
“Tell Daddy, my sweet girl—will you let me have a taste of your cunt?”
“Oh, please,” you whined, your head falling in the crook of his neck, your thoughts a jumbled mess. “Please.”
He needn’t be told twice. With your feet planted firmly on the ground again, he removed his hand from your panties, kneeling down in front of you, rain sipping through him, as he lifted your dress up. Namjoon looked up at you through his eyelashes, before he ripped that silk right off you, diving right into your slick.
Divine. He’s had a lot of sex, has tasted a lot of women, but none could ever compare to you, to your sweet fucking cunt. It was pure Heaven. And the way your back curved against the wall, pushing his head into you, his tongue swiping your wetness, sucking your clit—it was enough to make you cum. He slurped all of it up, fingers finding their way again into your warm hole. He’d blow, he fucking swears. Your beautiful voice moaning out his name, wet all over, a Goddess for him, as he laps your intoxicating juices. He drinks you up, he makes it his life’s mission.
“Fucking tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever had a lick of this pussy? You know it belongs to me now, don’t you?”
You nod your head, losing your mind. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’re convulsing this hard. His baby.
“Words.”
“Yes, daddy, yes! Please,” you sob, “please…fuck me, please…”
He locks you in place, his hands on your ass, determined to make you cum with his tongue, before his cock is anywhere near you. His impatient girl, so lost in feeling, such a slut for him, for what he’s giving you. He’s never had such a perfect woman.
When he started working both his fingers and mouth again, this time aggressively, his only motive was to get that pussy to drench him, to have your cum dripping from his chin. And it did just that when his thumb flicked over your clit relentlessly, tongue moving just underneath, three fingers deep. Your nails dug into his scalp, your entire body convulsing. He rubbed his stubby jaw on your lips, inhaling deeply. Your scent, uniquely yours—he now knew how you smelled. Truly. He would never be able to let you go.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me. Ready for me? Ready to give me another one?” He muttered, hands on your breasts, dropping kisses on your neck, before unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants. “I love the way you cum. I can’t wait to have you on my bed, have my way with you. You’ll let me, yes baby? You’ll let Daddy defile you, pretty thing?”
You looked down at his girth, swallowing thickly. Namjoon chuckled darkly, allowing you to see what would enter you. He pumped himself a couple times, his other hand rubbing your pussy, making sure you were wet enough for him. You just looked so fucking innocent, all fucked out. He attacked your mouth once again, biting down on your lip.
“Do you taste yourself? My delicious fucking girl.”
He enters you slowly, brows furrowed, savoring the tightness. Once he bottoms out, he stills in you, letting you get used to him, his will made of iron. Your fingers wrap around his biceps as you take a deep breath through the sting of his cock.
“Are you okay, baby?” He asks, worried.
“Yes,” you reply at once. “Go on.”
He hikes your thigh up and around his torso, as he lifts you up. You wrap around him and that’s fucking it—he loses it. His cock brutally starts pistoling into you, holding you tight against him. You meet his thrusts halfway, before it becomes too much for you to handle, instead becoming his personal little fuck doll to pound senseless. And he does. His moves are exact; sharp, and precise. He’s hitting everything inside you, the position as well as the thickness of his cock filling you up to the brim, until all you can think is him him him, inside your cunt, fucking you dumb.
“Call me by my name, sweetheart,” he pants in your ear, bouncing you on his dick.
“Namjoon,” you weakly moan, your breaths coming short, on the brink of passing out.
“My name,” he repeats harshly, ramming into you once, twice—
You throw your head back in ecstasy. “Daddy! Fuck, don’t stop! Keep fucking me please, please, I’m so fucking close daddy, please!”
“That’s my fucking angel.”
He does just that, until he can feel you spasming, until you’re screaming, begging, crying, coming on his cock, his desperate whore, getting fucked so good, isn’t she, bounce on my fucking dick, baby, ride it out, that’s right, milk me, fucking own me, my sweet fucking baby, you’re so beautiful, so fucking hot, give me a kiss—
“Where do you want me, baby? Tell Daddy, fuck you’re clenching me so goddamn hard right now, sweetheart, please.”
“Inside, please inside, I want your cum inside of me, please,” you beg, and he almost fucking chokes on his spit.
His thrusts are fast, hard and sloppy now, bruising your pussy, chasing after his own release, his mouth filthy—you want me inside this fucking cunt, don’t you my perfect fucking baby, my little slut, you’re gonna let daddy paint your walls white, won’t you, squeeze me dry, baby, fuck, come on, clench those tight fucking walls, goddamn you, I want to die in this pussy, please baby—
His arms tighten around you as he comes, and you let him; you let him calm down, for his breathing to even out, as he slips out of you, and carefully unwraps your legs from his hips, planting kisses on your shoulders, water dripping from his hair. The thunderstorm still hasn’t passed, raging on beyond the shelter of this shed.
“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” you confess as he fixes your hair, your dress, adjusts the straps, gives you his jacket to make up for the lack of underwear, and even though it’s several sizes too big on you—he cares.
It wasn’t just a lie to have a quickie with you. He took his time to explore your body, to study what makes you tick, what sends you over the edge. You didn’t even know his last name, but he knew his way around your pussy the best, better than you it felt like.
His eyes are fond, staring down in adoration. “I want to make you feel good for as long as you let me, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you.”
You hug him, then, your arms not quite reaching all around him. But it’s enough for him. More than enough. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you so easily. You’re the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed. He wants to hide you away, put you in his pocket and carry you everywhere.
“What’s your last name?” You ask innocently, head still buried in his chest.
He barks a laugh out, squeezing you in him, the vibration of it radiating through you. “Should’ve mentioned it, huh? It’s Kim, angel. Kim Namjoon.”
“Kim Namjoon,” you try it. It sounds…wholesome. “Hi, Kim Namjoon.”
“Hello, baby.”
The two of you stood there for a long time, waiting the storm out in each other’s arms. Namjoon couldn’t stop smiling, didn’t want to, never wanted to, ever again.
You couldn’t stop staring at him—he felt like the sun peeking after the gray of the clouds. Warm, important.
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lottie-lee · 10 months ago
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now vs then; Yellowjackets on Showtime
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bvlnoriyas · 8 months ago
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you ever just...stare at a man?
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tattooine · 2 days ago
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sebastianvettel: BORN TO RACE (Heppenheim, Germany)
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unstatedmartini · 11 days ago
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The Death Tunnel of Waverly Hills Sanatorium | Ghost Files S01E01
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percocet · 17 days ago
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18/09/2022: gerard way performing in a crop top and cute scarf
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