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sophaeros · 4 months

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arctic monkeys for q magazine, june 2011 (x) (x)

ARCTIC MONKEYS: Inside Alex Turner's Head

Words Sylvia Patterson Portrait John Wright

The day Arctic Monkeys moved into their six bedroom, Spanish-style villa in the Hollywood Hills, where the first-floor balcony looked over the patio swimming pool, they knew exactly what to do.

"From the balcony, you could get on t'roof and jump in't pool," chirps the Monkeys' most gregarious member, drummer Matt Helders, in his homely Yorkshire way. "We looked at it and said, That's definitely gonna happen. So by the end, we did a couple of 'em. Somersaults in t'pool, from the roof. At night time."

In January 2011, as Sheffield and the rest of Britain endured its bitterest winter in a century, Arctic Monkeys capered among the palm trees, eschewing hotels for a millionaire's Hollywood homestead as they recorded and mixed their fourth studio album, Suck It and See.

The four Monkeys, alongside producer James Ford and engineer James Brown, lived what they called the "American man thing": watched Super Bowl on giant TVs, played ping-pong, hired two Mustangs, cooked cartoon Tom And Jerry-sized steaks on barbecues on Sundays, had girlfriends over to visit, all cooking and drinking around the colossal outdoor kitchen area featuring a fridge and two dishwashers. Living atop the Hills, they could see the Pacific Ocean beyond by day, the infinite glittering lights of downtown LA by night.

Every day, en route to Sound City Studios, they'd travel in a seven-seater four-by-four through the mountains, via bohemian 60s enclave Laurel Canyon, blaring out the tunes: The Stones Roses, The Cramps, the Misfits' Hollywood Babylon. For the sometime teenage art-punk renegades whose guitarist, Jamie Cook, was once ejected from London's Met Bar for refusing to pay €22 for two beers, the comedy rock'n'roll life still feels, however, absolutely nothing like reality.

NICK O'MALLEY: "It were really as if we were on holiday. When we came back it's the most post-holiday blues I've ever had!"

JAMIE COOK: "It's hard to comment on that. It were just really good fun."

MATT HELDERS: "We always said, As soon as things like that feel normal, we're in trouble. But it's just funny. You might think it would get more and more serious as you get older but it's getting funnier. We've done four albums now and I'm still only 24, I'm still immature to an extent. So who cares?"

Alex? Al? Are you there?

ALEX TURNER: "Yeah, it were good times. But we were in the studio most of the time. So there's no real wild Hollywood stories. Hmn. Yeah."

Wednesday, 16 March 2011, Strongroom Bar, Shoreditch, East London, 11am. Alex Turner, 25, slips entirely alone into an empty art-crowd brasserie looking like an indie girl's indie dream boy: mop-top bouffant hair which coils, in curlicues, directly into his cheekbones, army-green waist-length jacket, baggy-arsed skinny jeans, black cord zip-up cardigan, simple gold chain, supermoon sized chocolate-brown eyes.

Almost six years after I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor became the indie-punk anthem of a generation (from the first of Arctic Monkeys' three Number 1 albums), and nothing prepares you for the curious phenomenon of Alex Turner "in conversation". Unlike so many of the Monkeys frenetic early songs, he operates in slow motion, seemingly underwater, carrying a protective shell on his back, perhaps indie rock's very own diamond-backed terrapin. The most celebrated young wordsmith in rock'n roll today talks fulsomely, in fact, only in shapeless, curling sentences punctuated with "maybe... hmn.. yeah", an anecdotal wilderness sketching pictures as vague as a cloud. He is, though, simultaneously adorable: amenable, gentle, graceful, and as Northern as a 70s grandpa who literally greets you with "ey oop?".

"People think I'm a miserable bastard," he notes, cheerfully, "but it's just the way me face falls." Still profoundly private, if not as hermetically sealed as a vacuum-packed length of Frankfurter, his fante-shy reticence extends not only to his personal life (his four-year relationship with It-girl/TV presenter Alexa Chung, whom he never mentions) but to insider details generally. Take the Monkeys’ Hollywood high jinks documented above: not one word of it was described by Turner. Before Q was informed by his other Monkey bandmates, Turner’s anecdotal aversion unfolded like this:

Describe the lovely villa you were in. AT: "Well... we certainly had a... good view."

Of what? AT: "Well, we were up quite high."

The downtown LA lights going on forever? AT: "I dunno. It was definitely that thing of getting a bit of sort of sunshine. Is it vitamin D? If you can get vitamin D on your record, you've got a bit of a head start. So we'd get up and drive to the studio."

What were you driving? AT: "Nothing... spectacular. But yeah, we'd drive up the studio, spend all day there and sort of, y know, get back. To be honest... we had limited time. So we spent as much time as possible kind of getting into it, like, in the studio.

So your favourite adventures were what? AT: "Well, they were really… minimal. We were working out there!"

Any nightclubs or anything, perhaps? AT: "You really want the goss 'ere, don't you?"

Yes, please. AT: "I could make some up. Nah!"

And this was on the second time of asking. It's perhaps obvious: Alex Turner, one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation (four Monkeys albums and two EPs in five years, The Last Shadow Puppets side-project, a bewitching acoustic soundtrack for his actor/video director friend Richard Ayoade's feature-length debut Submarine), is dedicated only to the cause – of being the best he can possibly be. He simply remembers the songs much more than the somersaults.

Throughout 2009, Arctic Monkeys toured third album Humbug – the record mostly made in the Californian desert with Queens Of The Stone Age man-monolith Josh Homme – across the planet. While hardly some cranium-blistering opus, its heavier sonic meanderings considerably slowed the Arctic Monkeys' live sets and on 23 August 2009, Q watched them headline the Lowlands Festival, Holland and witnessed a hitherto unthinkable sight – swathes of perplexed Monkeys fans trudging away from the stage. With the sludge rock mood matching their cascading dude-rock hair it seemed obvious: they'd smoked way too much outrageously strong weed in the desert.

"Heheheh, yeah," responds Turner, unperturbed. "That's your theory. You probably weren't alone."

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Turner's arm is now nonchalantly draped along the back of a beaten-up brown leather sofa. He ponders his band's somewhat contrary reputation…

"I think starting the headline set at Reading with a cover of a Nick Cave tune perhaps was a bit contrary. D'youknowhat Imean?! But to be honest, that summer, at those festivals, we had a great time. And I know some fans enjoyed those sets 10 times more. And you can't just do, y’know, another Mardy Bum or whatever. Because how could you, really?"

With Humbug, notes Turner, "I went into corners I hadn't before, because I needed to see what were there," but by spring 2010 he wanted their fourth album to be "more song-based" and less lyrically "removed". He was "organised this time", studied "the good songwriters" (from Nick Cave, The Byrds and Leonard Cohen to country colossi Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline), discovered "the other three strings" on his guitar, and wrote 12 songs through the spring and summer of 2010, mostly in the fourth-floor New York flat he shared with Chung before the couple moved back to London late last summer (the New York MTV show It's On With Alexa Chung was cancelled after two seasons). The result: major-key melodies, harmonised singing and classic song structures.

At the same time he revisited the opposite extreme: bands such as Black Sabbath and The Stooges ("we wanted a few wig-outs as well"); he was also still heavily influenced by the oil-thick grinder rock of Josh Homme, who is clearly now a permanent Monkeys hero. After four months' rehearsals in London, on 8 January the Monkeys relocated to LA for five swift weeks of production and Homme came to visit, singing backing vocals on All My Own Stunts. Tequila was involved.

"Tequila is probably me favourite," manages Turner, by way of an anecdote. "But it takes a certain climate... It's not the same... in the rain. Yeah. [Looks to be contemplating a lyric] Tequila in the rain."

Vocally, he developed the caramel richness first unveiled on The Last Shadow Puppets' Scott Walker-esque The Age Of The Understatement, finding a crooner's vibrato. "Everything before was so tight,” he notes, clutching his neck. "Probably just through nerves. That's just not there any more." Suck It and See contains at least four of the most glittering, sing-along, world-class pop songs (and obvious singles) of Arctic Monkeys' career: the towering, clanging She's Thunderstorms, the summertime stunner The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala, the heavenly harmonised title track and the Echo & The Bunnymen-esque jangly pop of closer That's Where You're Wrong.

Elsewhere, in typically contrary "fashion", there's preposterous head-banger bedlam (Brick By Brick, the rollicking faux-heavy rock download they released in March "just for fun", featuring vocals by Helders; Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair, and Library Pictures). News arrives that the first single proper will be Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair. Q is perplexed. Brilliantly titled, certainly, but arriving after Brick By Brick, the new album will appear to the planet as some comedy pastiche metal album for 12-year-old boys.

You've got all these colossal, summery, indie-pop classics and you've gone for... The Chair? AT: [Laughing uproariously] "The Chair! I'm now calling it The Chair, that's cool. Well for once it weren't even our suggestion. It was Laurence's (Bell, Domino label boss). And I were, Fucking too right! He's awesome. It'd be good to get a bit of fucking rock'n'roll out there, won't it? It's riffs. It's loud. It's funny."

If you don't release The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala as a single I'm going round Domino to kick Laurence's "awesome" butt. AT: "I think it'll be the next one!"

The record's title, meanwhile, could've been more enigmatically original than the un-loved phrase Suck It and See. The band, struggling with ideas due to the opposing sonic moods, invented an inspiration-conjuring ruse: to think of new names for effects pedals in the style of Tom Wolfe, Turner being long enamoured with the American author's legendarily psychedelic books The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, "cos that just sounds awesome".

"There's the Big Muff pedal," he elaborates, "That’s the classic. I've got the Valve Slapper. And there's the Tube Screamer. So we came up with the Thunder Suckle Fuzz Canyon. And… wait till I assemble it in me mind… em… it'll come to me… The Blonde-O-Sonic Shimmer Trap. So we were going for summat like that."

A wasted opportunity?

"Nah. Because some of those things ended up in the lyrics anyway. Suck It and See was just easier."

Alex Turner, rock'n'roll's premier descriptive art-poet, still writes his lyrics long-hand in spiral-bound notebooks. "Writing lyrics is a craft that I've practised a bit now," he avers. "In me notebook it looks like sums. Theories. There's words and arrows going everywhere. There's always a few possibilities and I write the word 'OR' in a square."

For our most celebrated colloquial sketch-writer of the everyday observation (all betting pencils, boy slags and ice-cream van aggravations) the more successful he becomes, the less he orbits the ordinary. "I'm not struggling with that, to be honest," he decides. "In fact I'm enjoying writing lyrics much more than I did. Stories. Describing a picture. Um. There's quite a bit of weather and time in this one. Which is probably not reassuring. 'Oh God, he's writing about the weather.' Maybe leave that out!"

There are also some direct, funny, romantic observations: "That's not a skirt, girl, that's a sawn-off shotgun/And I only hope you've got it aimed at me..." (from the title track).

Some of your romantic quips, now, must be about Alexa. AT: "Right. Yeah. Definitely. Well... there's always been that side to our songs, when we weren't writing about... the fucking taxi rank. It's kind of inevitably... people you're with." [At the mention of Chung's name, Turner is visibly aggrieved, head sliding into his neck, terrapin-esque indeed.]

It must have been very grounding being in a proper relationship through all this madness. Because if you weren't, girls would be jumping all over your head. AT: "Em. Hmn. Well, of course that helps you to... I don't really know.. what the other way would be."

Does Alexa wonder if the lyrics are about her? AT: "Oh there's none of that. Yeah, no, there's no looking over the shoulder."

She must be curious, at least. "Maybe."

Did you ever watch Popworld? AT: [Nervous laughter] "Em! Now and again."

Did you ever see the episode where she helps Paul McCartney write a song about shoes? AT: "Ah, yeah I think so, maybe I did see that."

Well, if I was you, I'd have been thinking, "She's the one for me." AT: "Well. Yeah... maybe that would've... sealed the deal! Hmn. But maybe that wasn't when i got the ray of light. When was? Nah [buries head in hands]. I might have to go for a cigarette..."

Q can't torture him any more and joins him for a snout. Turner smokes Camels from a crumpled, sad, soft-pack and resembles a teenager again. As early song You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me says, "Never tenser/Could all go a bit Frank Spencer…”

In January 2006, when Arctic Monkeys' Number 1 album Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not became the fastest-selling debut in UK history, inadvertently redefining the concept of autonomy and further imploding the decimated music industry (& wasn't their idea to be "the MySpace band", it was their fans': the Monkeys merely kick-started viral marketing by giving away demos at gigs), the 19- and 20-year-old Monkeys were terrible at fame. They weren't so much insurrectionary teenage upstarts as teenage innocents culturally traumatised by the peak-era fame democracy.

To their generation (born in the mid-'80s) fame was now synonymous with some-twat-off-the-telly a world of foaming tabloid hysteria where renown and celebrity meant, in fact, you were talentless. Hence their interview diffidence and receiving awards via videos dressed up as the Wizard OfOz and the Village People. Which only, ironically, made them even more celebrated and famous. (“That were a product of us just trying to hold onto the reins," thinks Turner today. "Being uncooperative.")

Q meets The Other Three one morning at 11am, in the well-appointed, empty bar of the Bethnal Green, Bast London hotel they're staying in (all three live in Sheffield, with their girlfriends, in their own homes). First to arrive is the industrious, sensible and cheerful Helders, crunching into a hangover-curing green apple. He has recovered from last year's boxing accident at the gym, which left his broken arm requiring a fitted plate. Now impressively purple-scarred, the break felt "interesting" and the doctor couldn't resist the one-armed drummer jest: "D'you like Def Leppard?"

Currently enjoying an enduring bromance with Diddy, he still doesn't feel famous, "it just doesn't feel that real, there's no paparazzi waiting for me to trip up." He and Turner, during the four-month rehearsals last year, became an accomplished roast dinner cooking duo for the band. "I reckon we could have us our own cookbook," he beams. "Pictures of us stirring, with a whisk."

O'Malley, an agreeable, twinkly-eyed 25-year-old with a strikingly deep voice and a winningly huge smile, is still coyly embarrassed by the interview process. A replacement for the departed original bass player Andy Nicholson in May 2006, he went from Asda shelf-filler to Glastonbury headliner in 13 months and still finds the Monkeys "a massive adventure". His life in Sheffield is profoundly normal – he's delighted that his new home since last October has an open-hearth fireplace: "Me parents had electric bars." He has also discovered cooking. “I’m just a pretty shit-hot housewife, most of the time," he smiles. "I cook stews, fish combinations, curries, chillies. I made a beef pho noodle soup the other day, Vietnamese, I surprised meself, had some mates round for that."

Recently, at his dad's 50th birthday bash, the party band, made up of family and friends, insisted he join them onstage "for ...The Dancefloor. So I were up there [mimes playing bass, all sheepish] and it were the wrong pitch, they didn't know the words or 'owt, going, Makin eyes... er..." He has no extra-curricular musical ambitions. "I'm happy just playing bass," he smiles. "I've never had the skill of doing songs meself. It'd be shit!"

Cook, 25, is still spectacularly embarrassed by the interview process. He perches upright, with a fixed nervous smile, newly shorn of the beard and ponytail he sported in LA: "Rockin' a pone, yeah, because I could get away with it." With his classic preppy haircut and dapper green military coat (from London's swish department store, Liberty), he looks like a handsome '40s film star. (Turner deems Cook "the band heartbreaker" and had a word with him post-LA: "I said to him, Come on, mate, you've got to get that beard shaved off. Get the girls back into us. Shift some posters.")

His life in Sheffield is also profoundly normal. He still plays Sunday League football with his local pub team, The Pack Horse FC (position, left back), remains in his long-term relationship with page-three-model-turned-make-up-artist Katie Downes and "potters about" at home, refusing to describe said home, "cos I'll get burgled".

A tiler by trade, he always vowed, should the Monkeys sign a deal, that he'd throw his trowel in a Sheffield river on his last day of work. "I never did fling me trowel," he confirms. "Probably still in me shed." He's never considered what his band represents to his generation. "I'd go insane thinking about it, I'm pretty good at not thinking about it… Oh God. I'm terrible at this!"

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Alex Turner is cloudily describing his everyday life. "I just keep meself to meself," he confounds. He mostly stays indoors and his perfect night in with Alexa is "watching loads of Sopranos. And doing roast dinners".

No longer spindle-limbed, he attends a gym and has handsomely well-defined arms – "You have to look after yourself."

Suddenly, Crying Lightning from Humbug rumbles over the bar stereo. "Wow. How about that? I was quite happy the other morning cos Brick By Brick were on the round-up goals on Soccer AM. It's still exciting when that happens. It was like Brick By Brick is real."

He spends his days writing music, "listening to records", and recommends Blues Run The Game by doomed '60s minstrel Jackson C Frank ("who's that lass?... Laura Marling, she did a cover recently), a simple, acoustic, deep and regretful stunner about missing someone on the road.

Lyrically, he cites as an example of greatness the Nick Cave B-side Little Empty Boat [from ‘97 single Into My Arms ], a comically sinister paean to a sexual power struggle: "Your knowledge is impressive and your argument is good/But I am the resurrection babe and you're standing on my foot."

"I need a hobby," he suddenly decides. "I'd like to learn another language." Since his mum is a German teacher (his dad teaches music), surely he can speak some German? "I know how to ask somebody if they've had fun at Christmas." Go on, then. "Nah!"

Where Turner's creative gifts stem from remains a contemporary rock'n'roll mystery; he became a fledgling songwriter at 16, after the gift of a guitar at Christmas from his parents. An only child, did his folks, perhaps, foresee artistic greatness? "I doubt it!" he balks. "Cos I didn't. I wasn't... a show kid." Like the others, he doesn't analyse the past, or the future.

"You can't constantly be thinking about what's happened," he reasons, "it's just about getting on with it." The elaborate pinky ring he now constantly wears, however, a silver, gold and ruby metal-goth corker featuring the words DEATH RAMPS is a permanent reminder of he and his best friends’ past. The Death Ramps is not only a Monkeys pseudonym and B-side to Teddy Picker, but a place they used to ride their bikes in Sheffield as kids.

"Up in the woods near where we lived," he nods. "Just little hills. But when you're eight years old they're death ramps." The ring was custom made by a friend of his, who runs top-end rock'n'roll jewellery emporium The Great Frog near London's Carnaby Street. Ask Turner why he thinks the chase between his writing and speaking eloquence is quite so mesmerisingly vast and he attempts a theory.

"Well, writing isn't the same as speaking," he muses. "Not for me. I seem to struggle more and more with... conversation. Talking onstage... I can't do it any more. Hmn. I'll have to work on that."

The ever-helpful Helders has a better theory.

"Since he's been writing songs," he ponders, “It seems like he’s always thinking about that. So even when he’s talking to you now, he’s thinking about the next thing that rhymes with a word. Even when he’s driving. We joke he’s a bad driver, his focus is never 100 per cent on what he’s doing. Which is good for us cos it means he’s got another 12 songs up his sleeve. I think music must be the easiest way for him to be concise and get everything out. Otherwise his head would explode.”

The Shoreditch.com photo studios, 18 March. Alex Turner, today, is more ethereally distracted than ever, transfixed by the studio iPod, playing Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, a version of I’d Rather Go Blind. Occasionally, he’ll completely lose his conversational thread, “Um. I’ve dropped a stitch.”

The first to arrive for Q’s photoshoot, he greets his incoming bandmates with enormous hugs (and also hugs them goodbye). Today, Q feels it’s pointless poking its pickaxe of serious enquiry further into Turner’s vacuum-packed soul and wonders if he’ll play, instead, a daft game. It’s called Popworld Questions, as first posed by someone he knows rather well.

“Oh, OK. Let’s do it,” he blinks, now perched in an empty dressing room. He then vigorously shakes his head, “Um…I’ve gotta snap back into it.”

Here, then, are some genuine “Alexa Chung on Popworld” questions (2006-2007), as originally posed to Matt Willis, Amy Winehouse, Robbie Williams, Pussycat Dolls, Kaiser Chiefs and Diddy.

Why do indie bands wear such tight jeans? AT: “Um. I supposed they do. They haven’t always. When we first were playing I was definitely in flares. You need to be quite tall to get the full effect, though. So, that's why this indie band wears such tight jeans, cos we've not got the legs for flares."

What makes you tick in the sexy department? AT: "Wow. Pass. What do I find most attractive in a woman? Something in the head? That's definitely a requirement. Well... Hmn. I'm struggling."

Tell us about all the lovely groupies. AT: "No!"

If dogs had human hands instead of paws, would you consider trying to teach them to play the piano? AT: "Absolutely. I'd teach Hey Jude."

How many plums d'you think you can comfortably fit in one hand? AT: "They're not very big. [Holds small, pale, girly hand up for inspection] It's a shame. Probably three. Diddy only managed two? Maybe not then. I can carry a lot of glasses at once, though. If they're small ones I can do four."

Are you cool? AT: "Not as much as I'd like to be. There's this clip where Clint Eastwood is on a talkshow and he gets asked, Everybody thinks of you as defining cool, what d'you think about that? And he gets his cigs out, takes one out, flicks it into his mouth, lights it and says, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Here, Turner locates his Camels soft-pack and attempts to do a Clint Eastwood. He flicks one upwards towards his mouth. And misses. Flicks another. And misses. "Third time lucky?" He misses. "I'll get it the next time." And succeeds. "Hey. Fourth time. Don't put that in! So there you go. I'm four steps away from where I wanna be."

Thank you very much for joining me here on Popworld, here's my clammy hand again. There it is, let it slip, hmmn. You can let go now. AT: "OK! Were you a Popworld fan, then? It was funny. Cool. What were we talking about, before?"

Blimey, Alex. What must you be like when you're completely stoned out of your head? AT: "Stoned? What d'you mean, cos I seem like that anyway? Yeah. A lot of people... tell me I'm a bit... dreamy. But I like the idea of that. Of being somewhere else."

Two days earlier, Turner had contemplated what he wanted from all this, in the end. Many seconds later he gave his deceptively ambitious answer.

"I just wanna write better songs," he decided. "And better lyrics. I just definitely wanna be good at it. Hmn. Yeah.”

—

RUFUS BLACK: AKA Matt Helders, on his ongoing bromance with Diddy

Matt Helders has known preposterous rap titan Diddy since they met in Miami in 2008. “He goes, Arctic Monkeys! Then he said summat about a B-side and I was like, He's not lying! I just thought, This is funny, I'm gonna go with this for a while." Last October Diddy texted Helders, suggesting he play drums with his Diddy Dirty Money band on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross, to give his own drummer a day off. “I were bowling with me girifriend at the time. In Sheffield, on a Sunday." On the day of recording, says Helder, "We had a musical director. That were one of the maddest times of my life. Next day Diddy said, Why don't you just stay? Come along with me. So I went everywhere with him." Diddy had "a convoy of cars" and made sure Helders was always in his. "He'd stop his car and go, Where's Matt? You're coming with me! So I'd get in his car. Just me, him, his security, driver." Diddy, by now, had given him a pseudonym - Rufus Black. "He kept saying, I don't wanna fuck up your image. And I'm, I don't think it's gonna do me any harm!" He stayed in Diddy's spectacularly expensive hotel. Some weeks later, Helders almost returned to the Dirty Money drumstool for a gig in Glasgow. "But we were rehearsing in London. I were like, I might come, how are you getting there? And he were like, Jet. Jump on t’jet with me. But I had to stay in Bethnal Green instead.”

Love’s young dream: Diddy (left) with Helders

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #matt helders #nick o'malley #jamie cook #sias era #interviews #q magazine #my image id #bands #this is such a funny interview honestly shfjwjs #self proclaimed housewife nick my beloved......#also why did the interviewer describe alex's hands as small pale and girly HELPME #btw im missing page 93 it's probabky just a photospread but yeah #i managed to find the dead links' images on vk #eye contact #not my scan

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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year

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When you found out they cheated on you

Pairing: Hyung line x Reader

Warnings: Soft Yandere, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: because if there’s maknae story, there should be the hyung line story! Work and school have been exhausting me lately sksks I’m glad I made time to finish this! I hope you enjoy!

Namjoon

“It was a stupid mistake!” Namjoon, who rarely raised his voice, implored you to believe him. But you were done believing him. It didn’t matter if it only happened once, or that it was a mistake- none of that mattered because what mattered was that for that short span of moments, his lust overpowered his supposedly love for you.

“Stupid mistake? Namjoon, you’re one of the smartest man on earth for fuck’s sake! What you did wasn’t stupid! It cannot even be considered a mistake!” You screamed at him, your emotions getting the best of you because he kept on blocking your path. You gentle giant would never put his hand on you in anger, but he sure did use his form to stop you from leaving the studio. Jungkook looked traumatized as he inadvertently watched his hyung that he looked up to, and his noona in this terrible scenario.

“Flower, it’s the truth. It was nothing but a mistake! You’re the only one who has my heart! You’re the only one I love-“

“Do you? Really? Do you really love me?”

“I do!”

You shook your head before he could even finished his sentence. “No, Namjoon. I love you. I would never cheat on you. I would never betray your trust. But you did. And now I can’t even love you,” you argued softly, feeling all the energy draining out from you. Suddenly, you were just too tired of it all, and your words made Namjoon faltered.

He felt himself panic, felt himself at lost for the first time. He was a man who always knew what to do, always soldiered on through the toughest of times. But you saying you could no longer love him made him lose his composure. And with his stoic form, you walked past him.

You thought you could leave, really thought you could escape this messed up situation when the golden maknae suddenly stepped in front of you, blocking you from opening the door.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, closing your eyes as tears fell. “Please. Move.”

Jungkook’s lips quivered as he looked at your broken, desolate form, and to his leader who looked so lost, his head bent down as he looked so forlone. He knew he had to help just like how Namjoon was always ready to lend him a helping hand. He was always there to make the difficult decisions, always there to make sure that the members were doing fine.

And now, his leader was anything but fine. And you were the only one who held the great leader together. If you left, Jungkook was terrified to think of what would happen to his hyung.

You attempted to walk around him when he only moved with you, softly stopping you from leaving.

“Please noona, just listen to hyung first, okay?”

“No. I have nothing to say to him anymore.”

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t let you leave-“

You forcedly pushed him to the side, but the muscular golden maknae barely even moved. You were full on crying as you felt so emotionally drained and physically helpless that you didn’t notice Namjoon was standing behind you. His huge hand, the one that you always admired, snaked around you, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Let me go! Let me leave-“ He cut you off, his head bent to nuzzle your neck, his voice deep as the words he said made you paused.

“You and I know that I can’t ever let you go, flower. We’ll talk. We’ll resolve this. We’ll be happy again. You’re mine, flower. You’re never going to leave me.”

You whipped your head to look at him. Was he so disillusioned that he thought you would stay with him after cheating on you? Did he really think you’d still accept him?

Namjoon met your eyes with his determined ones, his other arm wrapping around your waist, effectively preventing you from leaving his side.

No.

Never would you leave him.

Never would he let you.

Without breaking eye contact, his deep voice resounded on the quietness of the studio. “Thanks, Jungkook. And lock the door when you leave.”

Seokjin

“I just can’t stand and see you live a lie. Y/N, we saw Seokjin and a girl kissing…I’m sorry you had to hear this from me.”

You heard what she said, could understand what she said. But why then were you frozen in tracks? Why then were your hands suspended as you poured her coffee? Why then did you desperately not want to believe her?

Why then did you want to run away from this situation?

She was your close friend, practically grew up with you. And you knew she would never lie about something like this. The picture she was showing on her phone was all the proof you needed.

You wouldn’t live with the disrespect, would never allow yourself to stay on a relationship that didn’t value honesty. And so, immediately you resigned from their company after spending so many years working in finance. The HR refrained from asking as though they had an inkling of idea why you were leaving. You set the effectivity as soon as possible, sacrificing your career just as he sacrificed your relationship for a fleeting lust. You were as though on an autopilot, your face stoic as you went out of the house and faced the world, only breaking down once you were safe in the four walls of your house.

Your house.

You were so glad that you didn’t jump right at the prospect of living with him when he begged you to move in with him. You were smart not to uproot your whole life and independence and space. But God were you tempted to wake up everyday in his arms, to see his sleepy face first thing in the morning, to cook and experiment with him.

But all of those were now gone with the wind.

You were avoiding him successfully from the day you were informed, leaving his messages and calls unanswered, leaving the door locked whenever he knocked which made him think you weren’t home.

So where were you?

If only you saw Jin right now, you’d feel a little bit pity for the man you still loved. That was the thing with love, it didn’t just fade away because someone did a mistake. It stayed, it lingered…until it festered from the inside.

He hadn’t seen you in weeks, his messages getting increasingly agitated, angry, sad, and frantic- all of which were left unanswered.

You owed him nothing but your silence, yet his last message sent shivers down your spine.

‘You know I hate being ignored, sweetheart. I don’t know what I’m capable to do if I ever lose you.’

Everyone knew Jin was a good man, someone who was always soft and always looking out for the members. Everyone knew he was selfless. But only you saw the swirling darkness in his eyes whenever he looked at you, only you felt how tight he was holding you whenever someone was near you, or how hard he made love to you on nights when he had no choice but to leave you for work.

But this was different. You felt like his message was a form of promise…or a threat.

Finally, his company contacted you for the documents you needed in order to secure another job, as well as your final pay. You were glad to get this done. You were planning on accepting another job far, far, far away from Jin, his lies, and the relationship you thought would survived. You went to the company after asking your friend that worked there if the group was in the building. Apparently, they were doing a guesting on a radio show which made you feel some kind of thing.

The last time you saw Jin was when he left your apartment before going abroad. You remembered how tight he hugged you, how warm his chest was, and how you were almost crying just thinking about him being gone for a week- which apparently was enough time for him to cheat on you.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry,” he said with a small laugh, wiping your tears with his thumb. “I’ll be back before you know it. I’m going to call everyday! Every hour!”

You laughed at his ridiculousness, and once you did, he gifted you with his beautiful smile. “That’s impossible. You’ll be busy-“

“Nothing is impossible for your boyfriend. I’ll even call you every thirty minutes!”

You scoffed at his cuteness. “It’s true! I’ll even be more clingy or else some asshole might snatch you up while you’re all alone.”

And when you stopped crying, he kissed you so tenderly, so slowly, savoring every moment with you that when you opened your eyes, you were smiling from how much he loved you.

You were an idiot.

You stepped out of the office after bidding your coworkers that turned close friends goodbye, and after securing the documents, the radio station where the group was guesting was playing on the huge screen on the hallway. You frowned when you noticed there were only six of them…with no Jin in sight.

“I see there’s only six of you. Is the world wide handsome doing okay?” The radio host asked the group members in concern, in which Namjoon took the lead.

“He has an emergency right now that sadly cannot wait. But I assure you, our hyung is okay, and he will be resolving the issue as soon as possible.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t believe your ears. And you certainly cannot believe your eyes when you suddenly felt a hand gripped your wrist, and dragged you down the hall. Your eyes were wide as you stared at Jin’s broad back, his breaths hard as he pulled you with him. You were too shocked to even resist, not until he pulled you inside his office and locked the door behind him.

His jaw was clenched as he took you in, his face missing the usual playfulness in it.

“I thought something bad happened to you,” he began in the deepest voice you heard him used. His form was rigid as he took you in, searching for any harm that may have come your way since you started ghosting him. And only when he were assured that you were unharmed did he meet your eyes. You were unharmed and that should calmed him down, but it didn’t. It didn’t get passed his observation that you appeared thinner than the last time he saw you. And he loathed that. Jin took pride in the fact taking care of you, of making sure that your well-being was his main priority that your weight dropped was like a knife to his heart. “I thought someone took you away from me,” he continued, walking closer to you as though he was a predator, and you a prey that had been successfully evading him for quite some time. And it enraged him, that when he got closed enough to you, he trapped you in his arms never to let you go. “Sweetheart, I thought I lost you,” he whispered in a dark tone, yet an underlying terrified emotion passed through his eyes.

You looked at him with hard eyes, “Don’t touch me.”

“First you ran away from me and now you don’t want me touching you?” He scoffed in disbelief.

“First you claimed to love me and then you threw our relationship to the ground and cheated on me,” you snapped back, pushing the tall man away from you with all your strength and the asshole only moved few inches.

“W-what? Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” He visibly paled, his hand was shaking with sudden stressed and anxiety.

“You’re not an idiot, Seokjin. So stop acting like one.”

“I don’t understand. Is that why you’re avoiding me? Because you think I cheated-“

“Don’t you dare make me feel like an idiot, Kim Seokjin.”

“I’m not, sweetheart. But that is not true! I’ll never cheat on-“

You showed him your phone, the one that your friend showed you and broke your heart. His eyes were on the screen of your phone, his eyes went round that you had proof of his infidelity. After a moment of silence, you deleted the picture.

“Don’t worry. Your image is safe,” you smiled at him sadly, assuring him that you would never use this against him despite how much he devastated you. At this point, you were just damn tired and his presence would never put you whole again.

You wanted to be away from him.

You managed to render him speechless, managed to put much distance between the two of you, before going straight to the door.

“She meant nothing,” his voice was pleading, watching you with pitiful eyes.

“Apparently, I mean nothing, too.”

You were about to open the door when his words stopped you.

“Do you want me to destroy her? You know I can…Just tell me what you need so we can move past this, sweetheart…”

You knew your Jin’s family was powerful, something that he never bragged about. He was so humble that he even chose to start from the very bottom, growing with the members through hardship despite the fact that he had a rich family. And now that he was saying these words, offering you to destroy someone just because he could proved to you how much you never knew him.

Your eyes were terrified as you looked up at the tall man, his jaw clenched, seriousness and madness crossing his face. “What I want is for you to go back in time and be faithful to me, but we cannot have that, can we?”

His handsome face visibly flinched from your verbal attack, but you had to get this out of your chest. “What I want is for you to leave me alone. I’m done with you, Kim Seokjin.”

And finally, when you opened the door, he didn’t stop you. Yet, his parting words to you assured you that this wouldn’t be the last you saw of him.

“I’ll give you time. I’ll give you space. But please don’t make me be the villain in our story, sweetheart. Because I can be the villain if it means keeping you with me.”

Yoongi

Your Yoongi was staying up late in his studio for almost a month now, pouring in so many hours just to perfect his craft that more often than not, you slept and woke up alone. And you would admit that you were feeling quite lonely, the fancy apartment he got for you and him was screaming in elegance, but you had never felt so alone than you did right now.

You missed your Yoongi.

With your mind made up, you cooked him his favorite food. You’d surprised him in his studio.

But when you got there, it was you who was surprised.

You wished you didn’t come, wished that you never locked eyes with him. You wished you never met him.

Yet most of all, you wish you never knew. It was true what they said, ignorance was a fucking bliss because having seen him thrusting behind a bent girl, one that you recognized, sent sharp stabs of pain and betrayal in your heart.

Did you ever really know him?

Because the man who opened his eyes in time to see your tears fell was not the one you fell in love with, he wasn’t the man who promised never to cheat on you because he knew how it felt, knew how damaging it was,

He experienced it, he lived it- so why then was he making you live the nightmare he escaped?

Yoongi’s movement faltered when he saw you. He wanted so bad to wake up from this, wanted so bad to consider this a mere nightmare. But it wasn’t. You were really looking at him with hurt and betrayal in your eyes.

But didn’t he mean for this to happen? Wasn‘t he the one to always self-destruct when things were becoming too good to be true? And weren’t you too good to be true?

You were too good for him.

And now he was regretting giving in to temptation, he regretted destroying the one good and pure thing in his life.

“K-Kitten,” he called out to you as he removed himself from the woman. And you winced when you heard the sickening sound of the proof of his infidelity. Before he could even tucked himself, you left.

You couldn’t even stay one second with him.

You couldn’t even breathe in that room because it reeked of them.

You couldn’t breath. God, you couldn’t breathe.

You heard him screaming for you as you ran, his deep voice resounding on the hallway as the remaining staff looked at you with bewilderment in their eyes. They never heard the Min Yoongi that desperate and fearful until that day.

You didn’t know how, but you managed to pack your stuff and left him and his lies. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough to go after you. It did hurt, but you were glad he didn’t. You couldn’t believe he made a fool of you when you did nothing but love and understand his hectic schedule. And now you didn’t want to see him.

You thought you’d never hear from him again. You were sure he was ashamed of himself that he’d never show up in front of you again. But you couldn’t be anymore wrong.

It was almost a week when you came home from work. Your apartment was small, and not something you’d rent for a long time. But it was exactly what you needed- somewhere far away from him. So imagine your surprise when you walked to your apartment only to find him waiting for you.

Yoongi looked thinner, he looked paler and his eyes looked like they had not rested since forever. He stepped near you but you acted like he wasn’t there, fishing your keys from your bag.

“Kitten-“

You evaded his touch, not looking at his way and instead, attempted to open your door.

“Kitten, let’s talk. Please. I haven’t slept since you left. I’ve been going crazy because I couldn’t find you,” he said desperately, his voice showing agitation despite him trying to say his piece calmly. You pretended to not hear him. You promised yourself that the next time you’d see him, you would act as if he didn’t exist, because why shouldn’t you? In the first place, he acted as if you didn’t exist and proceeded on fucking someone else.

You cursed when you dropped your keys in your haste. You bent down and tried again, praying to heavens that your hand stopped trembling.

“I didn’t know where you were. I went around, I looked for you. I went to your family, I went to your friends but none of them knew where you are. I thought something bad happened to you. I thought I’d never see you again,” he sputtered out, his eyes desperately searching yours as he stood beside you. His form looked defeated, yet you knew he was a stubborn man.

He wouldn’t let this go.

“As you can see, I am alive and well. So leave,” you said in a cold voice, not once removing your eyes from your door that was as equally stubborn as Yoongi.

“Why would I? My girlfriend is here. Shouldn’t lovers stay together?” He asked, his head tilted to the side in confusion.

You sighed in frustration before finally, finally looking at the lunatic beside you.

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought our relationship was done from the time you cheated on me.”

If he was affected by your verbal attack, he didn’t show. Instead, his eyes lost their desperation, and in their place was determination. He stepped near you that it left you no choice but to back away from him until you felt the door behind you.

“Oh, kitten, you thought we were done? That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” He whispered as he bent down to look into your eyes. He smiled at you, his smile so sweet yet so cold, as though some switch was turned. “That’s okay. I understand. But we’re not done because you promised me before that you were never going to leave me, isn’t that right, kitten?”

He tucked your hair behind your ear. Having touched you calmed him down enough to know that you needed space from him. But it was alright. He’d give you space. He’d let you breathe.

But there was no way he was going to let you go.

But you were smart, because the very next day, you moved.

Hoseok

“Don’t! Don’t touch me. You disgust me!” You screamed at him as you pushed his desperate hands away from you.

You couldn’t believe how idiotic you were. You thought surprising him in the hotel he was staying in Japan was a smart move. You thought he’d be happy to see you because why wouldn’t he want to see you when it was your fucking anniversary today.

And yet here you were, shocked to see him in bed with another woman.

The staff were hesitant to tell you his room number this time. But it would rather be more suspicious if they didn’t give Jung Hoseok’s longtime girlfriend his room number when they were used to you surprising him.

As soon as Hoseok opened the door wearing only a robe, you jumped and planted kisses on his handsome face. But when you finally opened your eyes, you saw a woman hastily wearing her clothes with her hair all over her face, and her lipstick smudged. Slowly, you turned to look at his lips only to find the same shade there.

You never laid hands on him, not even in playful fights.

But this time, you slapped him so hard his head turned to the side.

“Angel, I-I’m sorry!” He sobbed as you pushed him further away from you, your eyes never leaving the crumpled bedsheets, his scattered clothes on the floor, the glasses of wine on the table. You couldn’t believe he could do this to you. You couldn’t believe he would ever do this to you.

He was full on sobbing as he held you to him. And you were still too shocked of everything- yet you knew you didn’t want him touching you.

You struggled against him, pushing him away. He still smelled like her. The girl had long ran out of the room, yet her presence still lingered.

“Don’t touch me. We’re done, Hoseok,” you declared in a strong voice before turning away from him. You didn’t even make it halfway to the hallway when you heard his scream that were so loud that the members all went out of their rooms thinking it was an emergency.

You heard him before you could even turn to look at him.

“Please please please, don’t leave me please,” he croaked as you looked at his tear-stained eyes. He was inconsolable, his breathing rapid as he implored you to believe him, to not leave him.

You shook your head at him, aware of the members who were all watching the two of you with anguish and surprised in their eyes. They weren’t used to see Hoseok this vulnerable, and they had known you for so long and yet this was the first time they saw the two of you like this.

What happened?

He was so in love with you..

Hoseok attempted to touch you when you slapped him once again, your anger getting the best of you. “I told you not to touch me. Never touch me again,” you fumed at him, never minding his distressed state. “Not when you fucked someone else minutes ago!”

“I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. Don’t. Please.”

At that point, Hoseok was even more incoherent, his cries making his words come out short that Jimin couldn’t take it any longer and went closer to his hyung in an attempt to calm him down.

“No. You deserved to be alone,” you spat at him before walking away only to be once again stopped by him. He tugged your hand, and to your surprised, he knelt down. He bowed down his head as though he was praying for you not to leave, your hand trapped in his larger ones.

“Hyung-“

“I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything for you to forgive me. Just please!” His voice was loud as he wailed, his shoulders shaking. He looked up to you. “Please don’t leave me.”

But his tears wouldn’t move you. Not when you gave him all of you. Not when you loved him with all your heart only for him to cheat on you.

At your cold stare and silence, Jimin squatted down beside him. “Hyung, maybe you two should talk again when both of you are calmer.”

Namjoon’s mind started shifting gears. He knew no one should see Hoseok like this, knew that the dancer could not control his emotions. He stepped near you, touching your elbow gently as he leaned down to look at you.

“Right. Hyung, the two of you will talk tomorrow. I’m sure Y/N is still exhausted from her flight,” he started before looking at the still crying man. He nodded his head at him in assurance. And only when Hoseok nodded did Jimin helped his hyung to stand up. “Jimin, bring him to his room first. I’ll take care of Y/N.”

He didn’t leave, not before telling you he loved you and that he’d talk to you tomorrow. Not before you and Namjoon left first.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” you whispered to the tall man beside you.

“I know. It’s just to calm him down for tonight, Y/N,” he assured you, knowing that what his hyung did was wrong. He heard enough to know that his hyung was in the wrong. “But I hope you know he’s never going to let you go that easily.”

And when you looked behind you, there he still was, standing with tears in his eyes- yet his face was clouded with darkness and a promise that he would make this right, whether you wanted to or not.

#bts fic #yandere bts #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #Min yoongi fic #jung hoseok fic #yandere namjoon #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere hoseok #namjoon x reader #seokjin x y/n #min yoongi x you #suga x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x you #hoseok x reader

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4kimji · 3 months

Note

svt mtl who's the best at aftercare ? ( we know joshua is top 3 )

here's my take on it 🫡 (also my first ot13 mtl post wtf.)

joshua

he's literally so kind to the members so why wouldn't he be kind to his s/o? he'll break your back for half of the night and then WILL be helping you do all of your nightly routine.

mingyu

he's such a gentle giant so ofc he's top 3. he'll massage your waist as you brush your teeth, help you wash your face, and more. best believe he will get a tiny bit of soap in your eyes but how can you be mad at him?

seokmin

the first thing he does is wraps his huge arms around your frame and pull you back onto the bed. he won’t even pull out until he hears your soft sniffles, alerting him that you fell asleep.

seungkwan

AHHHH seungkwan is rushing to get a wet towel as soon as you start rubbing your eyes, wanting to clean you off before you fall asleep. he might brush your teeth too if you ask but expect some sass back.

chan

chan is wayyy gone before you but he’ll try to stay awake while watching you get ready for bed. sometimes you think he’s in a different dimension the way he’s dozing off and waking up frantically. is finally happy when you come to bed so he can sleep with you.

minghao

he’s SUPER SUPER caring so expect nothing but love from him. literally all he wants is to just be with you everywhere you go. and trust he will be holding your hand!

cheol

he’ll ask you if you’re alright and pulls you into a big hug. you’ll give each other pecks constantly until you both feel sleepy. cheol will just lay back and watch you snuggle into his chest and fall asleep.

jun

idk but for this one, you guys might end up on the couch so for aftercare, he’s tripping up the stairs to get blankets for you since doesn’t want you to get cold. also you might need to pee so just imagine jun in the dark sleeping with his eyes open.........

soonyoung

when you guys finish fucking, he'll start whining and holding his hands out like a baby wanting to be picked up. will maybe even start fake crying. but, i know he’s such a good cuddler so it will make up for his childlike actions…

jeonghan

jeonghan will most definitely laughs at your attempt of walking but is quick to help you when he sees you about to fall/trip. if he can’t catch you in time, you bet he’s giggling his ass off.

wonwoo

wonwoo accompanies you while you freshen up and walk you back to the bed. serenades you to sleep with his deep voice then might get up and play his games for a bit. (he’s not coming back for a few hours)

jihoon

he’s a busy man so his aftercare looks a little different. most likely you guys did it in his studio, but doesn’t mean he’s not going to be a loving gentleman. ji will move you out of his chair and put you on his small studio couch, wrapping a soft blanket over your body. he’ll also keep looking back at you to make sure you’re okay

vernon

vernon is the type to get up out of the bed and just stare down at you in only his slanted boxers. the only thing he tells you to do is pee. BUTTTT he will snuggle into your shoulder when you come back from the bathroom with your nightly care done.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen reactions #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt

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idwt-money · 4 months

Text

Mercy

MDNI 18+

1.6k word Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

CW: switch!noah, breeding, breath play (ish??), aggression, begging, unprotected sex, oral sex

you were (needless to say) in a bad mood due to work. your boss was bitching in your ear all day about documents and slide shows that needed to be done and signed off before the end of the week. you had a regular 9-5 office job, yet it was the biggest pain in your ass.

you walked into your home, sighing and fighting the urge to scream at the top of your lungs. you set your purse and keys on the coffee table in the center of your living room.

you took a look around to see Noah nowhere in sight. you walked up to the room you both had designated as his recording studio. you heard soft hums of the drums coming through the computer.

you knocked on the door and you were greeted with your gentle giant. there was a significant height difference between you and Noah, it always made you giggle because no one knew that behind closed doors Noah had begged for you in almost every way you could think of.

“hi baby! how was wor- oh shit” Noah wasn't able to finish a sentence before you were dragging him to your shared bedroom.

you opened the door, pushing him back onto the bed.

he propped himself up with his elbows and watched as you stripped yourself into nothing but your bra and panties.

“i had the worst day at work, baby.” you sighed as you straddled his lap. your hands explored his bare chest. you loved how often Noah wouldn't wear a shirt around the house. it made him look like a 5 star meal. his tattoos on display and the muscles on his arms made you feel like you could fall to your knees and admire him like he was an ancient greek god.

“what happened, love?” his voice innocent and unknowing of the situation he was going to be in within the next 15 minutes.

“my fucking boss. such a fucking prick. she thinks she the shit because her daddy gave her the fucking job.” as your words got more passionate with anger, your nails started to scratch Noah's skin like claws.

with a slight hiss, Noah replied.

“i see what's happening here. need to get it out, baby?” one of his hands going to caress your hips when you smacked it away, now leaning in to whisper into his ear.

“don't fucking touch me unless i give you permission.” your words were harsh, but Noah knew you'd never have any ill intent with them when it came to your bedroom activities.

you kissed down his jaw to his lips. the kiss was messy and full of lust. Noah always let you melt away after a hard day of work with no questions asked.

pulling away from Noah's lips, a string of saliva connected you both. disregarding his heavy breathing, you kissed down his chest, leaving soft bites before reaching his shorts.

you could see the outline of his cock through them already.

you placed kisses on the outline of his cock, giggling every time you felt it twitch under your lips.

you looked up at Noah, something devious brewing in your eyes. you bit the band of his shorts, slowly dragging them down his thighs all the while keeping eye contact with him. you let your hands do the rest of the work and pulled them off of him.

you pulled his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out of them. you took your time giving teasing licks and sucks to the tip of his cock. enjoying the sounds of desperation falling from Noah's lips.

you gave in, giving the bottom of his dick one more lick for good measure before taking him as deep into your throat as you could manage.

“oh my fucking god!” Noah cried out, his body jerking with the feeling coming onto him so fast. his knuckles were turning white as he gripped the sheets beneath him, trying his best not to grab two fist fulls of your hair and fuck your throat unmercifully.

you held him in your throat for as long as you could before you started to get dizzy from lack of air. when you pulled his cock away from you, you took deep breaths. Noah's eyes were already glazed over with the most lustful gaze.

you started to move your head up and down, the tip of his cock poking at the back of your throat everytime.

“fuck! please! please let me touch you! i fucking need to!” Noah's words were dripping with torment. you paused your actions.

“oh really? you need to?” you raised eyebrows as you wiped the spit off of your lips with your finger.

“yes! god, i could get down on my knees and fucking beg you. please just let me touch you!” it sounded as if he was on the verge of tears.

beg on his knees?

“then do it.” your voice was stern.

his eyes widened.

“wh-what..? i didn't think you'd actually like-” he was once again cut off.

“i said fucking do it.”

you stood up from your knees, waiting for Noah to get on his. it felt like 10 minutes had passed when he was finally in front of you, on his knees, crying out his begs. the tip of his cock poking out through the band of his boxers, his hair messy from squirming around on the sheets, his cheeks pink and rosey from the slight embarrassment of what he was about to do. fuck. he was so pretty.

“please, baby, please. i can't- i need to touch you. i fucking need to feel you. please! have mercy on me!”

a satisfied smirk painted itself on your lips as you watched him beg beneath you. you ran your hands through his hair, pulling his head back once your got to the back of his head.

“you can touch me.” you placed a kiss on his forehead before you took your panties off, placing your cunt in front of his mouth. he took no time diving into you, his arms around your legs pulling you closer. your eyes were sewn shut and your hand once again found its place in his hair, tugging at it in pleasure.

“fuckkkk, baby, your tongue is so fucking good. shit.” your moans were relaxed and smooth until he plunged two fingers into you whilst his tongue took care of your clit.

your moans became higher pitched and you started to grind against his mouth. Noah was 1 in a million. he knew you better than you did, he knew how to cum in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. he was just so fucking good, you weren't sure if you would ever wrap your mind around the fact he was all yours.

Noah hit just the right spot with his fingers and you felt yourself start to crumble under him.

“right there, oh god right there, baby!” your cries started to become closer and closer together before you let yourself release. if it weren't for Noah supporting you from beneath you, you would have fallen onto the floor.

as your orgasm washed over you, your legs shook and the pull you had on Noah's hair only got harder. when you came down, Noah softly pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean and shared a kiss with you, letting you taste yourself.

somewhere in the midst of kissing, Noah picked you up, laid you on the bed and you were now in the position he was in just moments ago. he soon turned you over and you had your ass up.

Noah took it upon himself to unclip your bra. he slipped his boxers off and had no patience with pushing into you.

knowing how your day had went, Noah didn't take it easy on you. he immediately started to fuck into you, reaching for you hands and pinning them behind you with his own, leaving your face buried in the sheets.

Noah's cock pushing deep into you made you feel like you were having an out of this world experience.

Noah never failed to give you exactly what you needed. the way he fucked you made slapping sounds to echo in your ears. that mixing with his grunts and breathy moans were like ecstasy to you. it made your heart flutter and your pussy clench around his cock.

“fuck, youre so perfect for me. jesus christ” Noah was barely able to get his words out without moans interrupting him.

you didn't even try to reply, your face was buried deep in sheets and your head was too fuzzy from the treatment Noah was giving you.

Noah had helped you up, your back to his stomach and whispered filthy words into your ears.

“want me to breed you? make you full of my cum, hm?”

“fuck! yes, baby!”

Noah wrapped his hand around your neck, cutting off the blood flow, giving you a dizzy feeling.

“gonna pump you fucking full of my babies.”

you were too into the feeling of you second orgasm of the night coming onto you to even register his words.

“i'm gonna make you forget all about your shitty day at work. you feel my cock? so fucking deep isn't it?”

you answered back with a pathetic nod and “mhm” before letting your orgasm push you into bliss.

Noah pulled you in closer and kissed the side of your head and he shot strings of cum into you.

you were both gasping for air when you came down from your highs.

after cleaning yourselves up, you laid down and took the rest of the night to be together.

“thank you, handsome.” you said, giving him a kiss before laying your head on his chest.

#bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian #bad omens band #badomens #badomenscult #noahsebastian #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #noah bad omens #noah sebastian smut

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