#i need to shake him and kiss him and bite him and [redacted]

[screamingcrows]

bestie i am so late to the one bed prompt (purely bc i didn’t see it) so if you don’t have spoons for anymore please know i won’t be offended, but if you feel up for it maybe the prompt "We're both tired, so please just get in." with mister albedo 👀🫣

I hope the alchemist is soft enough /lh💙✨

By all accounts, it'd been a long day trudging around Dragonspine with Albedo. As his student you'd insisted on accompanying him, and to the surprise of everyone, Sucrose included, he'd actually agreed.

It was only the first day and already you were utterly exhausted, limbs filled with lead from the strain of hiking to his little hide. Tumbling down hills, constantly slipping, fingers nearly freezing off, the frigid wind threatening to rip your skin to shreds, it was all manageable. It was all physical phenomena, they could be reversed through various measures, warmth being the most alluring at the moment.

No, as you followed Albedo the last of the way, the only thing on your mind was how he'd outright laughed as you tumbled and fell headfirst into a mound of snow. He'd been quick to pull you out, hands gripping your hips tightly while you wiggled. His assurances that he'd only laughed due to the resemblance of a snow fox hunting didn't bring much comfort, although they were cute animals. The combination of his smooth chuckle and firm hands banishing all thoughts of the cold, heat still flooding your cheeks at the mere memory.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Your mind snapped back to the present, stopping your movements as Albedo's clear eyes pinned you, the snowflakes reflected making them glitter. Ah, you'd probably missed something.

"I'm sorry, Master Albedo, I was just lost in the scenery..."

A plausible enough lie. The way his smile faltered when you spoke the title made your stomach sink a little, perhaps it was better to address him by name only as he'd requested. But Sucrose didn't, and she'd been his student longer.

"Ah, it is breathtaking is it not? Truth be told, most of my visits here take as long as they do because, well because I enjoy it here. The air, the view-"

His gaze turned back to you, a sheepish smile crossing his features before he turned around and began walking, gesturing for you to follow.

"You must be freezing, let's get inside first," he had barely finished the sentence when a plateau came into view.

His base looked comfortable, a well sheltered cave, furnished with more equipment and bookshelves than you could fathom anyone lugging this far into treacherous terrain.

The evening passed in relative quiet, Albedo taking inventory of what he had while you sat with a book, eyes barely open towards the end. Changing was done fast to minimise loss of heat, yet it still felt as though ice flowed in your veins when you glanced around the firelit space.

"Mm, can I just take a bed?"

"Oh," his voice contained something unfamiliar, akin enough to disbelief that hearing it from him set you on edge, "it seems I-... forgot to plan for certain aspects of bringing a visitor."

And that was when you took the time to really look around, there was a single bed tucked into a corner and that was it for places to comfortably lie down. That was unfortunate, but not quite as unfortunate as how giddy the thought had your tired mind.

"I'm truly sorry, I hadn't considered sleeping arrangements. Go ahead and take the bed, I can just as well rest here," he sounded apologetic, voice a little softer than usual as he gestured to his chair.

That wouldn't do. Despite the fact that he clearly wasn't bothered by the frosty climate, his short sleeved coat told you as much, a chair couldn't possibly be comfortable. Patting the space next to you, you steeled yourself.

"We're both tired, so please just get in."

"I insist, please, make yourself comfortable. Isn't it my responsibility as your teacher to ensure your comfort?" he sounded almost a little melancholic, quickly shaking it off.

"Albedo, I'd feel terrible. Just get over here, it's not like anyone's ever died from sharing a bed.

A small glint entered his eyes, the flickering flames dancing across his skin when he approached. Deft hands made quick work of his outer layers, your eyes unable to peel away from his hands. There was a hint of hesitation, but it didn't last when you lifted the thick blankets for him. He was surprisingly warm against you, even through the multiple layers there was a marked difference with him in the bed.

Your weary body quickly began shutting down, having accomplished the last goal of the day, your eyelids were heavy as you turned your back to him, knowing it would be impossible to sleep with the promise of his lips any closer to yours. The arm that carefully came to rest around you brought a wave of security with it, as did the brush of soft lips against your nape, a pleasant tingle running down your spine.

Maybe the reason he'd accepted you along and not Sucrose was easier discerned than it first appeared.

Only one bed prompts

[zombii-writess]

𝙰 𝚃𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚈𝚘𝚞

Synopsis: You and Ren have been cuddling for the past few hours, on their request, but then you get the urge to put something in your mouth. Good thing Ren’s here to help you to satisfy your needs. 

Tags: blowjob, established relationship, deepthroating, male pleasure, gagging, slight edging, smut, slight ooc Ren? idk

Word Count: 985

Pairings: Ren/Redacted x AFAB Reader

A/N: literally had a dream that I sucked Ren’s dick idk how that even happened also Ren/Redacted brain rot AHHH AND ANOTHER THING MINORS/ AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!!

Ren/Redacted belongs to @14dayswithyou

“A-ah! A-Angel…wai-fuck!~”

“Sl-..ngh! Slow down!” 

“Y-you’re so…mmf! Eager!”

The faint pounding of the rain echoed through the empty apartment. The room was dark and cold. The only source of warmth was coming from a bundle of blankets on the large bed and who laid in them was you and Ren, all cuddled up. The pink haired man had his scarred fingers scratch at your scalp, making you practically pur at the feeling. Your arms were wrapped around their waist, face snuggled into their cardigan. The smell of mint and fresh linen invades your senses. Ren beams at the sight of you so relaxed and wrapped up in his arms. 

You toss a leg over Ren’s hips and shift positions before grumbling and shifted into another position. Ren lifts his head from his soft pillow from your constant movements.

“[Name]?” They call out softly. You move your gaze over to meet concerned blue ones. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” You hastily replied, pulling your face away from Ren’s soft cardigan and instead rested your chin on his chest. “Just being weird, y’know?” They chuckle, nuzzling their nose into your head.

“You know you can say whatever's on your mind, Angel.” He softly kisses at your neck and your face heats up.

Sighing, you eventually gave up. “I kind of want something in my mouth, like candy to suck on.” Ren stutters and lifts himself onto his elbows, cheeks bright red. 

“I-is that so?” They were flabbergasted and you snort, hand going to caress Ren’s clothed stomach while you moved your body to settle in between Ren’s legs. 

“Obviously I’m not in a biting mood, more like a,” You drifted on, lowering yourself down his body, rubbing his thighs that shivered at your warm touch. “I want something to occupy my mouth kind of mood.”

The pink haired man lifts his arm to cover the bottom half of his red face, eyes not straying from yours. “[N-Name]!” He gasped, hips jerking into the air. Giggling you decide to stop your touching and rest your chin against his lower belly, he gulps. 

You stick out your tongue. “Just kidding!” 

Your boyfriend whines, rocking his hips into you in desperation. You were about to mock him when you felt a wet sticky substance on your shirt. Looking down, you spot a dark spot on Ren’s sweatpants. “U-unless you want me to…” You added, face growing warm as Ren rapidly nods their head. 

Taking that as a green light, you proceed to slide to the edge of the bed along with tugging on Ren’s pants down before scarred hands quickly grab onto yours. You stop and look at Ren who’s eyes dart around your face before meeting your [Eye color] eyes. 

“Do you, uhm, think you can wear a blindfold?” They nervously asked, intertwining their fingers with yours. “I-I’m sorry for the sudden request, [Name].” 

You shake your head, easing his nerves a bit. “Hey! No worries!” Scanning the room, you try to find something to cover your eyes with. Ren shifts and pulls something from underneath his pillow. It was a black silk sleeping mask. 

“Here, you can use this.” They reach over and place the mask over your eyes and your world is enveloped in darkness. Ren hums, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and cups your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “You look angelic like this, Angel.” 

You giggle, cheeks burning from your boyfriend’s compliments. Then you hear the ruffling of clothes being taken off and immediately lock in, licking your lips in anticipation. Ren lets out a sigh of relief after releasing their cock from its containment, the musky smell invades your nostrils and you fight the urge to just swallow it whole. 

“D-do you need help or should I-'' Ren begins only to be cut off with a yelp after you reach over to blindly brush against his weeping tip. White pearls dripped down your hand as you used a finger to rub the slit in a circular motion. Ren groans, reaching down to lift his shirt up to not dirty it, not like you noticed it or anything. “[N-Name]!” 

Scooching closer to the bed, you lick a trail from Ren’s cock from the base all the way to the tip. Their legs tensed, shivers of pleasure running down their spine. “Fuuu…uck!” More whimpers escaped his plump red lips from biting back his louder noises. 

The salty taste of their precum makes you lick your lips, your eyes fluttering at the taste. Ren groans, eyes locked onto your head watching closely as you open your mouth and take his head, giving it a harsh suck. They roll their blue eyes to the back of their skull, pearly rows of teeth biting down on his plump pink lips.

This encourages you more, one of your hands reaching over to fondle his balls causing him to let out another moan. Ren’s toes curl once his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag. “A-An-fuck! [Name]! I..I’m gonna-” 

The pink haired man shuts his eyes and arches his back beautifully off the bed as they release into your mouth. With a moan, you swallow what you could and remove your lips from their cock with a small wet pop! Ren’s face was flushed, chest heaving, and his cheeks were covered in tears. You wished you could see what their face looked like right now. 

Swallowing a glob of spit, Ren settles a scarred hand on your head. “W-wow Angel, you were very excited..!”

“I’m not done.”

He blinks, a confused smile forming on their face. “W-what?”

“We’re not stopping, I still want something in my mouth.” You purred, blindly placing your hand back onto his weeping cock and gave it a few pumps. Your boyfriend cries out from the overstimulation.

“W-well then!” He groaned. “You c-ccan…fuck- do whatever you - ah, want!” 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

rushed and unedited, I might come back and actually make it better soon

also SOOOO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! honestly I got lazy and then writers block and other shit happened ;(( but we good

[asmrrpaddict]

While listening to Redacted’s Baking Cookies with Bakedere Daemon Boy, I just keep imagining a few things.

1. Gavin is in bed next to them. He sensed someone come into their room, but relaxed when he realized it was Caelum and tried to go back to sleep with his back to FL and Caelum.

2. While Caelum is trying to wake up FL, they whined “Gaaaaaviiiiin, help!” but he ignored their pleas with a grin on his face.

3. Once Caelum started ranting about “hot of the press,” FL could feel Gavin’s silent laughter shaking the bed.

4. FL tried to get Gavin up with them, but he just laugh and said, “I love the kid, but don’t let him burn down the kitchen. Good luck Freelancer.”

5. FL’s heart burst a little bit when Caelum asked if he did good.

6. I don’t know if he has a canon height, but in my head FL is 5”7 and Caelum comes up to their chest. When they hug FL likes to rest their head on his.

7. I’m sure Daemons don’t need them, but I keep seeing Caelum with glasses.

8. While they are baking, Gavin is laying in bed kicking his feet and laughing throughout most of the time. Especially when Caelum called vanilla extract icky.

9. Gavin came into the kitchen the second the cookies were finished. “Don’t mind me just gonna grab… ow!” FL smacks his hand. “First cookies go to the bakers.” They said smuggly and handed one to Caelum. Gavin crossed his arms and fake pouted, “Mean.” He said in a low tone. But then Caelum took a bite and his face lit up and he gave a little squeal of excitement at how good they were and Gavin couldn’t help but laugh!

10. FL put half a cookie in their mouth with part of it hanging out and Gavin jumped over and ate the part hanging from their lips (surprising FL) giving them cookie crumb kisses. Caelum was equally confused, sad that part of FL cookie was eaten, and grossed out by their kiss.

[wanderingblindly]

i absolutely ADORED “wedding bells, wedding kisses” and saw that you had kissing prompts open. if they still are/you have interest i would LOVE to see “you’re going to get lipstick all over me” for lestappen. thank you!!! 🫶

we don't need to talk about the fact that this took [redacted] weeks, right? the human mind is a mystery and mine is full of holes. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! i was loosely going for model!charles and photographer!max

kiss prompts here xx

Red, Red, Red All Over (Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, 674 words)

They both excuse themselves the minute the shoot wraps, indiscreetly storming in the same direction, basically oozing fervor. Heat.

They're getting worse at hiding it.

Their hands are on each other before the dressing room door closes; Max hardly has half a mind to lock it, career safety secondary, tertiary, to getting his hands under Charles's shirt.

"Max," Charles breathes, more like a groan, before falling back against the vanity. He perches himself there, instinctively arching his back, tilting his head — some subconscious part of his mind still searching for the light, for Max's camera.

And he looks it. Red lipstick a mess from Max's mouth, he's no less beautiful, no less perfect, than he was just moments ago: magazine cover ready, Italian Vogue destined.

The lock clicks into place. "Impatient as always," Max tries to chastise him, but he can't muster any bite. His eyes are glued to the broad expanse of Charles's chest, highlighted in the mesh shirt he'd been modeling.

Charles spreads his knees, bracing his hands on the vanity to give him leverage. He commands, "Come over here."

Max does, because of course he does. He crosses the room in an instant, slotting himself between Charles's parted legs and tangling his fingers in his hair; it's grown out nicely, his agency slowly styling it into a trendy mullet, hoping to balance out his classic features.

It feels like silk in his hands, feels like a gift when he tugs on it.

Charles groans against his mouth, desperately trying to press all of himself against Max, dig his nails into his back. "Let me…" He sighs, lips sliding away from Max's, catching the sharp cut of his jaw.

"You're gonna get your lipstick everywhere," Max protests weakly, pulse jumping when Charles drags his mouth along his jawline, teeth gently grazing in his wake. He doesn't respond, busy sucking on Max's earlobe, sliding a hand up his shirt, making quick work of teasing his chest.

He lets go with a bite, pulling the soft flesh for a moment — earning a hiss. "That's the point, chéri," Charles whispers, breath hot on Max's ear, teasing. "You look so good in red."

Max can see himself in the vanity mirror, painted by Charles's curious mouth, his possessive smile. Red bleeds from his mouth to his chin, dances boldly against his jaw, highlights the flush on his cheeks.

He looks ragged, pupils blown and flesh claimed and lips parted, slick.

"Keep going," His voice mimics his appearance: rough around the edges, desperate.

"Yeah?" Charles latches onto his neck, right above his Adam's apple. He can hear his smile, feel its predatory curve against the his skin. "Wanna show everyone that you're mine?"

Max's knees feel weak, eyes glued on the remnants of Charles's mouth on his — somehow so much more infatuating than a hickey, a bruise.

"Please,"

Charles slides his nails down his chest, no doubt leaving red in his wake. Max's hips buck weakly when he catches his nipple; the vanity shakes, Charles giggles against his neck.

"Who is impatient now?" His mouth slides down, resting on the hollow of his throat with hot, exaggerated breaths. Slowly, lasciviously, he presses the flat of his tongue against the ball of Max's collarbone, feeling his pulse, his labored breaths.

He's all but frozen, hands stuck in Charles's hair and eyes stuck on the mirror, stuck on the crimson blooming on his skin.

"Shirt off." Charles demands, sitting up and tugging at the hem, eyes focused intensely on Max's.

He look like sin: lipstick smeared across his lips, his chin, eyes bright and lashes dark. He looks like he wants to drag Max to hell by means of heaven, with teeth and nails and ecstasy.

Charles raises a brow, pink tongue sweeping across his beautiful lips — expectant.

Snapped into motion, Max slides off his shirt, tossing it somewhere into the void of the dressing room. Charles smiles brightly, hands immediately latching onto his exposed sides, splaying against his ribs. "Let's see where else the lipstick can go, yes?"

[dirtyjvconfessions]

I wonder why sleep deprivation causes your brain to 'eat itself' but sleep deprivation also causes you to wildly improve at skills you're learning

I need to STOP drinking iced coffee. It strips the calcium from your bones and god is caffeine a BITCH to detox. Oh yeah by the way uggghhh yeah Jhonen's face Jhonen's body Jhonen's heart Jhonen's soul I love him I love him so much I want to keep him as a pet husband. I wanna kiss him so bad and I wanna stuff his face in my boobs and shake him around. He's like...so lovable. I hate every single person who has ever made him out to be mean. He is just a sweetie who makes mistakes and is a little awkward sometimes but that makes him so cute and I wanna tease him. He is such a nerd, made for locker stuffing. And then I'd join him in the locker. And then uhm. I wanna take him on walks. Feed him. Correct him when he is being a bad boy. Bite him autistically. I WANNA WATCH A MOVIE WITH HIM SO BAD it's not even funny I really want to listen to every single thought he has on his favorite and least favorite movies. I want him to [even I had to redact this part holy shit I'm not that manic/sleep deprived to admit it, sheesh!] I want to sit on his lap. I want to unironically make him a sandwich. (<now that's sleep talking. Maybe. AAAGH!!!) If we lived together I'd install a stripper pole in a designated room so he can dance for me while I throw money at him. Or vice versa. (<this thought is a little more sober.) What would his stripper name be? Maybe Harry Harpoon. Yeah that's fucking good. Oh god and I wanna dress him up. I wanna put him in Dior, specifically Hedi Slimane's DIOR HOMME 2007/08 FALL WINTER "NAVIGATE". I feel like Jhonen would be such a hedi boy. And I wanna take pictures. Not just any pictures. Polaroids. In uhm. Many different states. And by states, I mean UNDRESS!!! HahahahahahahaA

When he does sleep I wonder how deep or light it is. I would hope being next to me would keep night terrors away. If we could even sleep. I feel like we could talk all night. About anything. Stupid things, serious things. Things in between. I'm sorry it took so long to realize that I love you.

[matenrou-fan]

I'll identify myself now with every request I ask (evil laugh)

So

doppo and hifumi threesome with a Fem reader

like

a rlly hot one

yes

that's all

🪼

Hifudo x fem! s/o

SO MANY requests about this couple.. In this one I write Hifumi as a host, in a more dominating way. I also received one pretty long asks about these two but with a deeper story where Hifumi can be seen without his jacket, so Idk if I should write another one now.. Let me know, y'all!!

Femreader, fingering (receiving), double penetration, rough sex, crempie, praising, insulting (from Doppo's side in the very end);; 1749 words

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

;MINORS DNI;

"Kitten, are you alright? Your eyes are so mesmerizing in this smoke of pleasure.."

Such delightful whispers make you whimper, as your pussy clenches more around two fingers. It feels like you can fall unconscious from such intense attention from both sides at once, yet Hifumi keeps soothing you down with light strokes on your body, free hand tickling your hips and stroke trembling tummy. Light kisses from him on your lips titillate and melt your nerves at the same time. You were sure that a man with such a double life is actually pretty inexperienced in bed, yet he knows very well how to prepare your hole for the main act.

When behind you, busy with stretching your ass, was sitting Doppo, and due to his heavy breath on your neck, he was no less, even if not even more, excited than you are. More sloppy movements as he pushes your tight walls, another arms gropes your breast, squeezing a sensitive nipple. His whole body was so hot, you can feel with your spine how fast his chest rises and falls. Hiding his face in the corner of your neck and shoulder, he keeps leaving messy bites and hickeys here, too impatient for something more.

"S/o.. You squeeze me so much it's almost painful.." - he mumbled with a light head, and you felt a sudden pressure on your back - his dick got so hard and was rubbing against you, waiting to take finger's place. "Mm.. I want to feel you more.."

"Hoho, my dear Doppo, it seems that you're a little impatient.." - the only one with a strong voice and good self-control, Hifumi chuckles, enjoying both your and his friend's blushing faces. - "We need to make sure our princess is well prepared, before we can lead her in this dizzying sin, okay..?"

His eyes shine almost like gold as he leans closer, whispering in your left ear, as your right one is tickled with Doppo's whines.

"I'll make sure that you cum good on my fingers to begin with, and then.. I hope you're ready for more than two or three rounds?"

Your both holes clench from this overwhelming hot breath from two sides, and these words.. This charming host just knows when to add more speed or say something to make you squeak. And right now, when he notices how quickly your body redacted, he pushes his fingers even deeper, thumb on your clit, moving in circular motion just at the perfect pace that makes you squeeze your legs together.

"H..hifumi, i.. I'm close.."

"I know.. But let me see this, okay?" - his other face drops to your left thigh when Doppo grabs the right one, also not pleasant with the way you shrink. They both spread your legs apart, and Hifumi smirks, not even trying to hide how much he enjoys this view. Absolutely wet fingers get in and out of your dripping hole, with every thrust your knees shake more and more..

Messy glides of two fingers in your ass synced in one speed with Hifumi's one, and that brings you to the edge even more. Your loud moans shouted above Doppo's whines as you froze for a moment, and then shuddered violently, cumming in a soft hand that kept pleasing your insides.

"That's it.. Good, good.." - soft voice coo, pulling you back from euphoria. Slowly pulling away, Hifumi keeps stroking your body, soothing down your trembling. - "Now, Doppo, lay down.. And s/o, you too.."

Without even a second, the poor man obeys, falling on the mattress and gasping when your hot back leaned to his chest again, getting his dick caught in the small space between your bodies. Pressure of your smooth skin on his throbbing glans makes him whimper and Doppo starts humping against you impatiently.

"S/o.. S/o, please.." - wet tongue on your neck as he can't help but beg, too aroused to even think straight. - "Let's just start already, oh my god.."

"Sh.. we need to prolong our pleasure.." - Hifumi chuckles, leaning over you two and slowly spreading your legs apart. - "Also.. We need to lubricate you a little, okay? So it wouldn't be painful.."

With these words he lifts your hips and grasps the trembling cock of his friend, pressing it against your pussy. Doppo whines along with you, grasping your shoulder, as the tip of his dick rubs against your clit, and his whole length soaking in juices from your wet folds. The mix of your warmth and small teasing strokes from Hifumi almost sends him to heaven, and he gasps so disappointed when he suddenly gets pulled away from such attention.

"That's enough, I think.." - with his casual charming laugh of the host, Hifumi looks at his friend. - "Don't forget, Doppo, you would have fun with another part of this celestial body today.."

His own dick was also trembling, exuding small drops of precum, and now both glans press against your holes, slowly stretching two clenching entrances.

Hifumi leaned closer with hands on your hips, kissing your cheek, Doppo clinging to your body, leaving a messy lick behind your ear, and they finally thrust in one moment, pushing their cocks fully inside you. The world turned dark blue as you choked on air, digging your nails in Hifumi's shoulders. Two fulfilling pulsations in your body at once send your brain reeling, and for a moment you forget how to breathe, all your senses concentrated on burning stretching feelings.

"Shh.. You're such a good girl, s/o. Taking us so well.."

"Ahh.. S/o, fuck, s/o.. It's.. s-so good.."

It was hard to concentrate on both voices at the same time, but thoughts about getting pampered like that by two men were stroking your ego, lighting a fire in the pit of your stomach and sending new waves in your core.

And if they both start so slow, now your pussy was blessed with some gentle, sensitive thrusts, while your ass was practically abused with some impatient aggression. Throbbing dick swell inside your tight wall, and Doppo lose almost all his control, leaving scratches on your waist and just crying about how fucking good your body feels. Foreplay was already enough for this poor man to forget about anything, and now it seems he's almost on edge now, too weak to handle such pleasing pressure.

Yet in this moment Hifumi gets closer, pressing his body to yours, bringing burn inside you on another level. His lips brush against yours, before he leans to Doppo too, soothing him with the same soft kiss.

"Shh, my lovebirds.. Don't rush.." - soft coo, as he looks at two blushing, drowning in pleasure faces in front of him. In such pompous mode, it was such a delight for Hifumi, to see how good he leads you both, making you experience things you never would enjoy with anyone else as good as with him.

"H.. Hifumi, s/o.. I can't, I'm sorry.. I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum.." - even in bed this habit of mumbling under his nose didn't leave Doppo, as he pressed his lips to your neck, tickling skin with hot whisper. - "I'm so so sorry, s/o, I'm gonna cum.."

With a small sigh, Hifumi touches your hips in a more firm grasp, also speeding up. His lips return to his, and you moan from a surprisingly deep, messy kiss as his tongue pushes inside your mouth. Together with sudden fast speed it quickly pushes you to the edge too, and you both start to catch up with Doppo, wishing to cum all together.

"Please.. Doppo, Hifumi.. Cum inside me.." - you whisper as soon as he pulls away, just to ask for this sinful thing you were craving for so long. Even before you all get so intimate, dreams about being filled with their sperm lewding you again and again every time you go to sleep, and the fact that finally your wish would be fulfilled along with your holes pretty soon, makes your pussy throb and ass clench more.

"Of course, dear.. L-let me make you mine through such a dirty primal act.." - Hifumi groans, also slowly losing his ability to give some charming speech, instead whimpering and moaning with you two. All thought fades away from his mind as the only thing he can think about is your sticky insides that squeeze his dick so good, practically sucking him deeper and deeper.

Yet even if he tries there's no way he would able to fuck you in the same speed as Doppo, as now this poor man, after holding his urge to cum for too long, snatch and get in his berserk mode. Grasping your waist and ribs so harsh that you almost choke, he starts pounding in wild pace, making your asshole burn from quick friction. And the way your voice immediately gets weaker just makes him go even more feral, as he almost beats new squeaks and whines out of you.

"Your whole body just begs to be used like this, huh? Of course I will cum only in your fucking needy ass, now, bitch.." - absolutely not watching his mouth, Doppo tickles your bosom with such insults. Watching him get so violent was refreshing, and you tense, ready to take their shoots inside you.

Your holes clench almost painfully tight as a strong wave hits your whole body. Never in your life have you felt a deeper, stinging orgasm that didn't leave you for almost a minute as you kept trembling between two hot bodies. Both men groan from your sudden tightness, releasing their need at the same time.

"Fuck.. Like this, take it all now.."

"There, s/o.. feel me even more now, princess.."

They keep moving for a little bit more, helping you ride your wave and spreading hot liquid on your pulsing walls. Only after you and Doppo collapse, gasping loudly and trying to catch your breaths, Hifumi pulls away, eyes quickly drops to your pussy with his dripping sperm on your folds, and then in your asshole, also filled so good..

"Ah, my darlings.. Maybe I can provide you with some cold water? Let me bring some towels as well." - with a smirk, he leans back again just to place two soft kisses on you and Doppo's forehead. - "Relax a little, before we continue and don't think this is the end or even the middle.. I will make sure you receive as much please tonight as possible, my angels.."

[gavinsdeviant]

Feel the Light

cw/tw- talks of past harm done to character, talks of torture, emotional distress, trauma response, a traumatic flashback, hurt/comfort, Quinn, insults and harsh language

word count- 1,645

pairing- Sam & Darlin

fandom- Redacted Audio

fic inspired by the song feel the light by Jennifer Lopez

@davidshawswife @daveysangelsposts @angelcactus @morgansplace @annahhopee @romeo-the-homeo @zozosrandomthings @miyowmiyow

hope you enjoy!

“Quinn doesn’t get to keep hidin’ from you, not now. Not anymore.” Darlin’ gives a small smile, squeezing his cold palm in theirs. He brings their hands to his mouth and kisses a line down their wrist.

Do you remember,

“I’ll be fine. They ain’t gonna know what’s hitting ‘em,” he adds, flashing them a toothy grin. They laugh, even as nerves bounce around in their stomach. They reach up to press a kiss to his cheek.

When we fell under,

“I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin.”

—

Fifteen minutes later the shifter and their Alpha are seated overlooking a drab, empty room. The air is cold, quiet.

Darlin’ scrunches their nose at the smell of stale coffee.

“Where is he?” David asks again. He’d been hounded Detective Clark as soon as they had sat down, hackles raised at the room that still appeared vacant. Their stomach churns.

The fluorescent lights hum, buzzing as they drum fingers along the cold rim of the table they were sat at.

Henry beckons them to look. The door slides open and a familiar silhouette steps out seconds later. *Sam.*

Hurry up, hurry up,

There’s no more waiting,

He shuffles over to take his seat, flannel sleeves pulled up to the elbows. They smile to themselves as their chest warms. ”Samual Collins. He’s your partner, correct?”

He glances back to the glass, saluting them, something akin to mischief alight in his eyes.

We’re still worth saving,

The scrape of a large chain rattles the door before they can find a way to reply and then, with a slow creak the door swings open. With dusty hair and a charming smile, the man in the door almost appeared normal.

Sam’s smile drops.

I left my pack for him,

I gave my heart to him, my fears to him,

I put myself second for him,

Everything for him.

All they had done had been to have him behind bars and now, they couldn’t even look him in the eye.

Coward, their mind hissed.

Feel the light,

Shining in the dark of night,

Their heart pounds in their ears as their cruel vampire ex regards the man who had let down his walls for them— had let them love him for who he was, even when it wasn’t pretty. “I keep these walls high so those feelings don’t get the better of me but… you climbed over them. And you’re in here. I love you, Darlin’. Deeply.”

“Is my little mouse here?” Quinn demands, leaving in as if in whisper. A vein throbs in Sam’s temple.

They knew he’d ask— knew he’d try and draw them out, to no avail.

“No matter,” he snarls, smile too wide,” I don’t need them here for the things I’m going to tell you.” He lets out a huff, fangs flashing. “My pretty little pet didn’t share the details, did they?”

Sam bites back a growl.

“You really don’t know half the shit there is to know about your darlin. Oh, now you’ve got me excited.” A pause.

“Ever notice their limp?”

With a sharp scrape, their chair goes flying back as they press closer to the glass. “He doesn’t get to do that,” they hiss, turning to the detective. He shakes his head. “We need this information out of him. We’ve got him talking… now he just has to keep talking.”

Slowly, they turn back to the creature, one they’d called “lover” so many years ago, its eyes faint with delight. “Oh, the things I’ve done. Seen the scar on their ankle?” He seems almost nostalgic, eyes cast to the ceiling in thought.

Remember what we forgot,

I know its a long shot,

“I broke them, bit by precious bit, and I liked it,” he mused. They swallow hard. “Broke that ankle five, maybe six times, until my name became a prayer.”

“You,” Sam bites out,” don’t get to pretend you’re still apart of them, that you know anythin’ about them.”

“You new bloods are all the same. Young and naive. Don’t know what you’re saying.”

In a flash, Sam has him pressed to the wall, breaths coming hard.

Quinn only huffs out another laugh. “I would’ve made an example out of them. For all the empowered and non-empowered humans dead at my hand, they’d be a living example. Say, ever heard of the blood eagle?”

There’s a silence, long enough for darlin to hear their pulse in their ears before he continues.

“The Brazen Bull then? Eaten by rats, perhaps? They will always be a pathetic fucking mutt, in my eyes. Meant to be taught a lesson—“

Without a word, the shifter slowly rises from their seat and pushes the door open, grimacing at the ache that creeps up their ankle. Sam had never asked and hadn’t wanted to push anything they weren’t willing to give, but oh how they had wished he did.

They were humiliated.

Here I go, here I go,

Their eyes burned with tears, ones that they furiously wiped away. He didn’t deserve their tears, not when he fed on their pain like a sadism demon took to brutality.

A few minutes pass, the cold wall pressed to their back as they breathe in, and out. Their heart still beat like a thousand drums in their chest and they couldn’t seem to make it slow. They glance at the door just as it opens, David’s muscled frame waiting.

Feel better now, feel better now,

He hesitates, face taut.

And then, with long strides towards them, wraps them up in his arms, head to his chest. They shudder.

“It’s okay,” he breathes. “You don’t have to go back in there, if you don’t want to. That fucker doesn’t get to take that choice from you too.”

They nod.

“Do you want Sam?” Again they nod, eyes burning.

“I’ll go get him.”

“He should be in there,” they try weakly. “Trying to save that girl.”

“I don’t care. There are other ways.”

Without a further word their friend pushes up from where he’d practically sunk down on his knees in front of them, and swings open the door. It shuts with a resounding click behind him as they slump back against the wall.

Here I go, here I go,

Feel better now, feel better now,

Their shoulders shake, chest heaving as they bite back tears. They were just messing things up— if it weren’t for them, none of this would have happened.

You’re his thrall… always will be.

And then, Sam is there, gently cradling their face in his hands and whispering soft words.

“Hey, hey— you needed me, and I’m here.”

They see the panic in his eyes, the hurt as if reflected mirror-like in front of them.

No.

They lay a gentle hand on his chest, pushing back. He doesn’t touch, only opens his palms instead.

“These hands will always be for you, darlin. Always. Never to hurt or bruise. To hold, whenever you might need it. We’re safe.”

”Oh pet, my name tastes so good on your lips… as you scream it. How’s your leg, hmm? Holding, and healing, I hope.”

They roll their ankle, over and over again, tapping along the ridge where the scar had healed.

Still here, still here.

Still here still here still here still here still—

“Darlin.”

”Nice and crooked. Shifter bones are harder to shift and clay, but this… Now you can never run away. Why would you? Such a masochistic wolf you are. And so the wolf traded their life for another. The fox and the wolf.” He smiles. “What a tragic tale. Sly fox, stupid wolf.”

“I had this horse on the farm I grew up on, way back, in Mont Blanc.” They blink, lights unbearably bright. “Athena, we called her. And me, bein’ the small stubborn boy that I was, decided that I could damn well ride her if I pleased.”

There’s a pause, the shifter tapping a finger along the bone of their left ankle as they look up at him, present now.

“I fell off a horse that day, and my mama was not impressed.” They smile, reaching a hand out to take his palm.

“I’m sorry, its just—“

“No apologizin’.” They shrug but gesture for him to continue.

“Well, Athena got up to a whole lotta trouble in my day. She loved goin’ out and never wanted to come back,” he smiles, somber. “Couldn’t really blame her.”

They take his hand in theirs, squeezing as if to say I’m here.

“We can go back,” they say suddenly, the quiet too big. He looks concerned by pulls them gently to their feet anyway, a stream of tears drying on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he rasps, voice raw. “You shouldn’t have had to live through that.”

They smile, a genuine smile, one they hadn’t felt in weeks.

From behind them Detective Clark clears his throat. The shifter and vampire both turn to him looking distraught, hands behind his back.

“Quinn lashed out. He managed to shatter the glass to the back room and has been placed again under a magical suppression. We don’t believe it’s safe for Mr. Collins to return back in there.”

He walks closer, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You did well. Thank you both for coming, we appreciate the patience in this difficult case in finding Mr. Fox.”

An hour later, Darlin and Sam are standing on the sidewalk, breathing in the cold evening air, feeling lighter than they had ever been.

Sam throws his head up to the stars, eyes bright.

“As long as those stars burn,” he points. “And as long as I live, I will always be here for you— morning, noon and night. Whenever you need me, darlin. I love you.”

Here we go, here we go

“I love you too, cowboy.”

Feel better now, feel better now

[axdreacc]

“You’re The Worst.”

lee felix smut

lee felix x oc

friends to????, friend with benefits?

tw: intercourse, swearing, crying (not from pain!!)

word count: no clue <3

a/n: this is my first time in years since i’ve written anything and i’m just happy to get this out there <3

“You’re the worst.”

That was what Andrea said to her best friend before finding herself underneath the australian man, whimpering his name as she felt his soft, teasing kisses left in her neck and collarbone.

“Felix please.” She whines, one hand on his shoulder, lightly gripping onto it and the other tugging his blond locks.

“What is it baby?” His deep voice asks softly into her ear as he plasters a mocking grin. “Tell me what you want.” He said, sliding his free hand down her waist and sliding under her skirt, his fingers close to her sensitive part of her body. Andrea gasped at the touch and arches her back as she felt his fingers circling in a fast pace. “Fuck fuck fuck.” She whispered, burying her head into his shoulder area, whimpering at the touch.

The man smirks down at her actions and decided to move her panties aside and teases her entrance with his finger, slowly pushing it inside.

“Jesus fuck!” He heard her say aside from the whimpering and moaning. “More.” She begged, grinding her hips. “What’s the magic word princess?” He asked with a smile, moving her face to look at him.

“Please Lixie.” She whimpered, trying her best not to shut her eyes.

“That’s not my name angel, say it again.” He said.

“[redacted] please, please i need more of you.” Andrea cried out, digging her nails into his skin.

He quietly hissed at the pain of her nails and added another finger inside the whimpering mess underneath him, pumping his fingers fast inside her, whispering praises into her ear. “You like that baby? Does it feel good?” He whispers before kissing underneath her ear, lightly sucking her neck area, marking her.

“Close lixie..” She whimpered, shutting her eyes shut and she felt her high coming close. “Hmm maybe you should hold it baby.” He smirks evilly at her, chuckling at her behaviour.

“No no no i can hold it lixie! please let me cum. please!” She begs underneath him, biting into his shoulder.

after a while, andrea felt like she saw stars, with felix toying her core with his fingers and tongue. The room was filled with her moans and whines. Felix was happy to hear her scream his name as she reached her climax, her leaving a mess in his sheets.

Felix smiles and kisses her inner thigh as he removed his fingers out of her, chuckling at her shaking legs and moves up to her, inserting his fingers into her mouth. Felix cups her cheek as she sucks the juices from his fingers. He then pulls his fingers away and leans down to kiss her.

“So am i really the worst?” He grins at her.

[autisticempathydaemon]

🎵 (but no pressure!)

I'll show you mine if you show me yours first/ Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse/ Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words

cw: Sam/Darlin, mentions of injury

“-and where did this one come from?” Sam asks, tracing a smooth finger across his Darlin’s scarred palm. They bite back a ticklish giggle, masking it as a cough, and the southern man chivalrously stifles his own chuckle as his lover speaks.

“Oh god, that one was a story,” Darlin says, flexing their hand and adjusting their legs sprawled across his lap. “Booker and I thought it’d be a good idea to play monkey in a tree and fight, cause we were twelve and stupid. I fell and had the even smarter idea to grab a branch and stop my fall instead of just landing in the leaves.”

“Oh, so you've always been like this.” His werewolf reaches up to flick at his nose, and Sam catches their hand to press a kiss and his grin against their skin.

"Afraid so. Marie can confirm; she said there were too many nerves there for her to patch up completely, but Milo thinks she left a mark on purpose as a reminder."

"Did you really need to be reminded not to tussle in trees, Darlin?" Sam asks incredulously, watching as they cackle in nostalgic delight.

"Oh no, I fought in trees plenty; I just learned to not fight Booker." The vampire groans in exasperation, hanging his head dramatically, and Darlin's laughter almost tips them off the rocking porch swing. "Alright, smart guy, your turn! What's this?" they ask, poking a mark on his nose that could be mistaken for a stray freckle if not for the faint scar passing through it. Sam's head stays low, his bronze hair blocking their view of his face and his body stiffening up slightly against theirs. Darlin is afraid for a paralyzing moment that they've asked something they shouldn’t have when he lifts his head to reveal a bashful, embarrassed grin.

“A reminder of my own,” he says, taking their finger and lifting it to his face so the werewolf can feel the little dip in the skin with their fingernail. “Remindin’ me that moonshine and needles make a terrible combination.” Darlin gasps, making Sam laugh warm and bright against their skin.

“Sam Collins-“ they ask with a start, swinging their leg around to kneel above the shaking, laughing man. Their hands try to take hold of his face, to twist it for a better view in the moonlight, only for him to throw his head back in mirth. “Samuel Collins, you secretive, geriatric motherfucker- do you have a nose piercing??”

Send me a ♪, and I’ll put my music on shuffle and write a Redacted ficlet based on the song I get 💌

[itsyourstarboy]

POW

✨Sweetheart OC✨

Next up in my line of redacted listeners we have Sweetheart! I love this sassy little shit.

Info about him under the cut!

*boss music starts playing*

Okay, don’t laugh at his name, he chose it himself completely unironically

My Sweetheart is named Cheshire and uses he/they pronouns

Transmasc nonbinary ftw 😎😎

5'7"

I LOVE HIS GLASSES OKAY

Their hair is cut like a mowhawk, but long-

Does that make sense?

He has both sides buzzed but not the back

Like a long mowhawk but not a mowhawk...

I’ll stop trying now

Look at this comfy casual gnc icon!!

Bratty bottom that won’t submit easily

Gotta be stubborn to be an investigator yk

They love scaring the shit out of Milo, but they also love scaring Aggro.

One time they scared the poor cat with a cucumber, which led to him army crawling around the house for a week.

Milo won’t let him buy cucumbers now.

However they have resorted to bananas, which are not as effective, but sometimes it gets him.

Chess makes it up to Aggro and Milo with treats and kisses 😚😚

15% snarky; 25% flirty; 40% menace; 20% horny

Can usually talk his way out of a fight, but knows how to defend himself if needed.

He knows the fine art of “anything can be a weapon if you hit hard enough”

Which is why Milo never tries to scare them in return-

Fight or flight: they are a FIGHT

He can handle spicy foods surprisingly well.

He doesn’t necessarily like spicy foods, hell its something he hardly really eats, but for some reason he can drink a bottle of hot sauce and be fine.

They one time tried to do the ghost pepper challenge-

Milo was going to try too, because, “how hard can it be,” but the smell alone was enough for him to nope out of that one.

Cheshire ate the whole thing in one bite with a straight face (because they think they’re Superman)

Milo later found him sitting in a cold bath with his clothes still on, face red and streaked with tears; he was laughing but he was crying and he was shaking from the cold water but also sweating-

Milo still gives him shit about it

They’re not particularly into pda, they just get really clingy when there’s a lot of people around.

What’s that? My boyfriend just arrived? Move, I need to kiss him.

What do you mean he just left the room for two seconds? I need to hold his hand-

He doesn’t care if he’s already practically sitting on Milo’s lap, he neEDS TO HOLD HIM CLOSER

Big bad investigator is a simpering little bitch for this wolf I stg

High risk job mixed with an anxiety disorder? Yes, please, that is their favorite blend.

Not really, please help him.

Sometimes Milo wonders if he needs to get them a therapy animal, but then he remembers “oh, wait, that’s me.”

He calls Milo Muffin. It started ironically, and he liked it ironically, but gang it’s not ironic anymore. He also calls him Sweet Pea, babe, Milove, My King

🚨MILO SOMETIMES CALLS THEM TOOTS AND DOLL🚨

One time Milo was teasing them about their name, and—in reference to the Cheshire Cat—called them Kitten.

Their soul left their body, that’s all I’ll say.

He DEFINITELY made Milo dress as Harley Quinn for Halloween, while he dressed as Joker. (Aggro was catman Batman)

He didn’t choose these constumes to make fun of Milo’s accent, he just wanted an excuse to get Milo to call him Puddin.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), big dick namjoon serving us tripod realness, dom!joon, and when i say dom i mean both dominant AND domestic : ), impregnation kink, daddy kink, praise, dom!jimin, sub!reader in both of these scenes, lingerie kink (m wearing), copious teasing, very light spanking, french kissing, lapdance, the jimin scene is filthier than the tags give it credit for ngl, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing/eating, aftercare (as always) 

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you everyone in the sfhs server, you bring me so much joy, motivation and good ideas | AND finally thank you to the anon that suggested [redacted] jimin i legit replanned everything just to make that his prompt

DAY TWELVE

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing  two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

--

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.

[amor-immortalem]

Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch. 3

Previous

Warnings: Implied sex

“So, what were ya gonna make for dinner?”

“Stir fry... unless you’d rather have something different,” Her green eyes peer at Mammon over the other side of the refrigerator door. “I don’t mind if you want something different. We can always have it tomorrow.”

“No that’s fine,” The demon nods. “Ya want me to help?”

“Sure,” Arella started placing the ingredients on the counter. “You can start by slicing up the mushrooms, the peppers and the scallions.” She started to get out the pans she’d need before going to wash her hands. “I’ll start with the meat.”

He nodded as he washed his hands and began with the task given to him.

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“So how did you enjoy it?” The pair were cleaning up after their meal.

“It was good. I think I didn’t cut the peppers thin enough though,” The demon answers as he dries up one of pans that were used.

“They were still good though,” Arella shut the water off and drained the sink. “They weren’t undercooked so it all turned out fine.”

“Coulda been crunchier though... Either way, ‘snot like it was bad...” Mammon started putting away the dry dishes into their proper places.

“Yeah, you’re not wrong there. I probably could have fried all the veggies a little longer, but this is the first time I’ve ever made stir fry on my own so I didn’t want to burn them. Anyway, you want to watch a movie after this?”

“Sure, although...” The demon trailed off, “Never mind. A movie is perfect.”

“Was there something else you wanted to do instead?”

“Yeah, a little...”

“What did you want to do then?” She moves to cage him against the counter, her hands placed over his. “I think we’re far past the point of you being shy about what you really want, baby boy...”

“I...” the demon closes his eyes and inhales as she presses against him just right almost as if she was trying to tease him, “Don’t tease.” Mammon pushes the smaller human back against the island behind her, looming over her.

“Is that what I’m doing?” She asks playfully, winding her arms around his neck. “I couldn’t tell... What are you going to do to me if I don’t?” The human bites her lip at the growl he lets out, hooking a leg around his hips to pull him closer while she continued to tease him with quick, soft touches over his body. He’s so easy to rile up.

The Avatar of Greed’s response is only a rush of hungry kisses that leave his human breathless by time he pulls away. They stare into each other’s eyes as they catch their breath for a short while before Arella pulls him toward the bedroom.

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She scrolled through her human world social media the next morning as she ran a hand through her boyfriend’s hair while he slept with his head on her chest. He’d probably be out for another hour or two at least, but Arella was more than content to just lay here and snuggle. She flipped through both local news and news from England after she’d caught up on all her socials, receiving a text from her childhood friend, Aubrie.

Aubrie: Reeeeeeeeelllllllssssss

Aubrie: How’s REDACTED?

Arella: REDACTED? Lmao

Arella: Aubrie you make it sound like my address is the location of one of those SCP files you love to read about online.

Aubrie: Well you won’t tell me where you moved to so...

Aubrie: Anywho

Aubrie: how was the move? Is your new house set up yet? Can I come visit you at some point? When are you going back to the Devildom?

Arella: The move went fine and yeah, if youre that dead set on visiting then fine you can come under the condition that the address doesn’t get back to Lucifer in anyway shape or form.

Arella: And I don’t know when or if I’m even going back at this point

Aubrie: Why can’t I tell Lucifer? Did you do something the last time you were down there?

Arella: No, nothing of the sort

Arella: Its just... I told you about how Lucifer and his brothers treat Mammon right? Like he’s the scum of the devildom and they’re always degrading him or accusing him of things he didn’t do with no proof. How Lucifer gives him punishments that sometimes aren’t deserved

Aubrie: Yeah but I thought you’d had a talk with his brothers about that?

Arella: I did but after a month everything reverted back to how it used to be...

Arella: to make matters worse Mammon ended up breaking his elbow after he and Lucifer got into scuffle over a bloody credit card bill yesterday.

Aubrie: wut

Aubrie: Is he alright?

Arella: He’s fine now.

Arella: Solomon was able to heal his arm and then I summoned him up here with me. Honestly the way he talks sometimes he sounds like a dv victim whose too afraid to leave his abusers. Either that or he’s apologizing it away and I can’t stand seeing him like that.

Arella: So I hope that without his brothers around, he’ll be able to decide if he’s truly happy with them or not. I know he loves them more than anything but... idk you can love someone without sacrificing your own happiness you know? And when his brothers talk to or treat him the way they do, he just looks so hurt after.

Aubrie: Yeah I understand. I hope you guys get that all sorted out then. I’ll talk to you later. I have start getting ready for work.

Aubrie: Bye Rells

Arella: good bye Aubrie.

Arella set her phone on the nightstand as the demon resting on her chest began to stir.

“Well, good morning, Sleepyhead. How did you sleep last night?” The human chuckles as Mammon on buries his face into her chest.

“I slept pretty good- better than I have in the last few days. Thanks.” He reply was only slightly muffled before sitting up and stretching. “What about you?”

“I slept great. You certainly did enough to tire me out last night.”

“Who were ya texting?”

“It was just Aubrie. Sorry, did the sound of the vibrations wake you?” She sits up as he shakes his head.

“No I was just waking up while you started texting. I just wanted to lay there a bit longer... I’m hungry, you want breakfast?”

“Yeah, breakfast sounds great,” She moves to grab his shirt from last night off the floor but the soreness in her thighs and hips stop her as she lets out a soft groan.

“I can make it don’t worry. Just stay in bed and rest for now. Yer gonna have to settle for eggs though...”

“Eggs are perfect, Dear.” Arella sighs as she flops over onto her side and Mammon kisses her cheek.

He climbs off the bed and slips on his boxers from the previous night. He’d have time to get his suitcase from the front room and put the clothes away later, but now is time for food.

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Next

Find more on my masterlist

[mooncalfed]

May I Feel, Said He

Rating: [M] - vivid sex scene.

Background: The italicised dialogue is the entire poem May I Feel, Said He written by E.E. Cummings. A long time ago I heard Tom Hiddleston read this aloud, and it amazed me how so few words could be so intense and charged... and erotic.

I thought I’d fill it in a little, and give it a scene. I edited the dialogue so that it has punctuation, but it’s worth checking out the original poem because it’s also written so, so well. 

The link to the poem is here: http://www.poetry.org/cummings.htm

You can find a link to Tom Hiddleston’s narration of the poem here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6Z11qFK0wQ

For Kim Namjoon, who makes me want to [redacted] his [redacted]

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“May I feel?” said he

Not that he needs permission - his hands are already smoothing down your back, lingering at your thighs, teeth grazing at your neck.

“I’ll squeal,” said she

A delicious groan erupts from him, and suddenly your back is against the cool elevator wall, the handlebar pressing against you, and your man pressing back.

“Just once...” said he

You suspect that if you let him take you in the elevator - the way he’s always dreamed - that he might come before you reach your floor. So you never let him indulge. You get close, though.

“It’s fun” said she

A subtle push, a purposeful grind. Namjoon bites down on your neck, and his want.

“May I touch?” said he

You bring his hand to your thigh, and then up, up… up. There’s nothing better than pressure where you need it. When you need it.

“How much?” said she

Namjoon’s thumb dances over your clit. Feather light, but tense and ready to pounce.

“A lot.” said he

Dark eyes stare into yours. Asking, waiting, promising.

“Why not,” said she

The doors slide open, and the pair of you tumble your way to your door.

“Let’s go,” said he

Namjoon slams the door shut. You grin - the neighbours are in for a night, but yours will be far more wonderful.

“Not too far…” said she

You interrupt his fumble towards the bedroom.

“What’s too far?” said he

His hands still on his belt, and you run your gaze over his clean, clothed form and dance over his burning erection.

“Where you are” said she

You give him your best, sexiest coy smile and lean back against the door. You slide down it, inch by cool inch, and let the wood catch on your dress, revealing a deliciously tiny amount of panty.

“May I stay?” said he

Namjoon’s eyes are on yours. You’ve yet to let him sleep over, but you’ve stayed more than once at his place. He understands. It’s your space.

“Which way?” said she

Bum reaching the floor, you lean back on your arms and spread your legs. You love being taken from behind, but the softie that he is, Namjoon is obsessed with you facing him, spread out.

He crashes down on his knees like a man in a trance. Like a man in love.

“Like this.” said he

Fingers hook around your underwear, peeling away cotton from your hips and slowing so that he can savour the string of arousal that is caught on your panties.

A deft finger swipes it, then slides into you. It feels like home, to you both.

But you’re greedy.

“If you kiss” said she

There’s no need for more words. Namjoon bends down and suckles your clit and you are sent to heaven. His mouth is so blissful, and your brain is a dial tone.

But there’s no time. The game is afoot, and both of you want to finish together.

The rattle of his belt hurtles you back to earth, just in time to see him take himself out. The clack of metal makes you bite your lip, but there’s no time for that today.

As usual, he’s beautiful. Pulsing and slick and gorgeous. You want to put your tongue on him, to tease him and please him and serve him until he cries.

But there’s no time.

Namjoon thrusts into you, deft and strong.

“May I move?” said he

Ever the gentleman. You want him to break you.

“Is it love?” said she

He blushes as he pulls out. You’ve only said it a few times to each other. The first being a few hours ago, in your favourite, dimly lit restaurant. You want to sing it, say it, string the words together and send it into the ether.

“If you’re willing” said he

Darling Namjoon. You’d give him everything.

If only he’d give you his cock right now!

“But you’re killing!” said she

His smirk returns as you squeal under him. It’s that easy, you know. You’re so easy for him it’s not funny.

“But it’s life.” said he

He likes making you wait. Because you’re impatient. A brat, he calls you (often before he fucks you into the next week).

Tonight he’s impatient too. You think so because he pushes back into you immediately, and then doesn’t stop. It’s a little relentless, but you’ve always loved going a little too far.

“But your wife!” said she

You tease him about the kink you know has him swooning. You brought it out the other night at a party, in which no one knew who you were and so you were free to pretend that he was taken, and that whatever crackled between you was illicit.

Namjoon came so fucking hard that night. In the parking lot, too.

“Now.” said he

He grabs your hair and pulls hard.

“Ow…” said she

But your glazed eyes tell otherwise. A little pain never hurt anyone. Namjoon knows that it sends you over the edge.

“Tiptop,” said he

The change is sudden. You’re sitting on him now, hands resting on his chest and ass pressing on his belt. He’s still inside you, and his hands want you to move.

So you ride him and ride him. Thighs shaking and pupils quaking. Below you Namjoon thrusts, eager for your cunt to swallow his cock.

“Don’t stop!” said she

He doesn’t. To his credit, he doesn’t. But Namjoon doesn’t want it like this.

“Oh no,” said he

The night is long, and it’s still early. He wants to draw this out, and make you cry.

“Go slow…” said she

He can do that. Namjoon savours each and every thrust. Hoping, trusting that you can feel the drag of his cock and the gentle press against your spot. His hands relocate to squeeze your breasts, run over your nipples and pinch them until the bead and your face scrunches up.

By the way your little squeaks come out he knows you’re reaching the end, and Namjoon wants to catch up and catch you.

He shuffles his feet so that you’re tipped closer to him, and he pulls a breast to his mouth.

As he nips and sucks and flicks you with his tongue his hand is doing the same to your clit. His cock is shoved so deep inside you he swears it’ll never come out.

It’s a frenzy, it really is. You above him, bouncing and gasping, and him below, drilling himself home.

“C-c-come?” Said he

But you’re already there.

“Ummm!” Said she

He loves the way your body stiffens. Like an autumn leaf, you are curled yet crisp, prone to shattering. He presses harder on your clit for an instant, and then smacks it. If you were shattered before, you’re in pieces now.

“You’re divine!” Said he

He’s never been happier.

“You are mine.” Said she

You are the end of him.

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 9

"Giovanni, Redacted."

Short Authors note: Please head the CW and read this chapter with discretion! It has very heavy themes and wording that discuss drug use/mental health in a very raw and uncomfortable way. I really advise this to be read by mature (18+) audience because of these themes. Thank you :) -Crow

CW: bbu and everything that goes with that, very poor mental health/slight suicidal language and themes, noncon drugging/drugs and alcohol (EXPLICIT), overdose mention, noncon/dubcon (EXPLICIT), multiple whumpers, lady whumper, dehumanizing language/themes, PTSD/nightmares, conditioned/trained whumpee, intimate whumper, death mention (let me know if i missed anything!)

Giovanni gets sick again. It's not like any ailment or injury he's ever experienced, it isn't like the bone chilling sickness he got from being outside for too long, it isn't like the exhausting nausea he used to get after long days of punishment and failure and violence. It's something altogether different, and in many ways so much worse. Nothing feels good anymore. Actually, he doesn't really feel anything, most of the time.

Besides fear. Fear is more of his way of existing than a feeling to him, now, sometimes it seems like the closest thing to home he has.

And so, the fear and the drugs and the confusing sickness all overshadow the things he really should be feeling. He doesn't even realize it when he begins to hate Rory, so he doesn't admit to himself or anyone else. He only really gets as far as telling himself he resents her, although he doesn't know how he remembers that word. But it wasn't resentment, he hated her. Almost as much as he hated his old master. Sometimes even more. It started out as a small burning anger toward her after she traded his body for drugs at Oscar's. Even then, he could convince himself not to be upset, that he was trained for that, that it was his purpose and he just had to get used to it. He could forgive Rory, even if she never apologized or even acknowledged what happened after, because at that point he really did still like her. Or was loyal to her. Or whatever.

But it just kept getting worse after that day. Rory had promised that after Gio did that awful thing for her, they would have fun. Gio soon found out that either Rory had a very different idea of fun than he did, or she had lied to him. She was able to keep them both high all the time, the backpack that Oscar had given her was filled to the brim. Every time Gio saw Rory digging through the bag to offer up his next dose, he couldn't help but think about the fact that he was seeing a visual of what he was worth: one huge sack of numbness in the form of pills. And to make it all worse, he was only half of the payment. Fitting enough. Still, he got tired of all of the bad trips and highs and lows, and he started to get mad at her again. Did it not feel horrible for Rory, too? She looked horrible, they both did, pale and borderline emaciated.

Gio was so angry with her that she was doing that to him, that she was making him sick and giving him pills so he'd never sleep (he was starting to actually miss sleeping and having bad dreams, because at least those he could escape, he couldn't wake up and leave this nightmare), and giving him pills so he'd be willing to do whatever she wanted and be subdued enough not to fight her or Oscar, or any other freak that she was letting have a turn with him that time, and giving him pills so that when she ran out he felt like he was dying, honest to God seconds away from vomiting out his own empty stomach and biting the dust immediately after. He had to forgive her, still, with no apology from her, every few hours for that.

Then Gio got sick. He didn't tell Rory, he was positive that he was too stupid to communicate the level of pain he was in anyway, and also wasn't sure if she cared. He was worried that one day he would just pass out from exhaustion or over exertion and he wouldn't ever wake up. Or that he would take a few too many pills at one time and his body would just give. That was sort of the easiest thing for him to forgive, as sad as it made him. Maybe it was because by then he was numb enough to not care about his health at all, or maybe he was just too tired to really try to fight anymore. He resolved that he had nothing to look forward to anymore, so why try? He not only forgave Rory for that, he surrendered that part of him to her completely. It was in her hands now, and sometimes it was very obvious that she knew that. And sometimes Gio thought he could see her enjoying it.

And through all of that, through all of the mistreatment and pain, Giovanni still liked her. None of that was what made him hate her. Because really, besides slowly poisoning him and trading him around for all the drugs she couldn't afford, she was nice to him. Or maybe he was just rewired to like anyone in charge of him.

The night he did start hating her, they were just getting back to their shitty motel that she had also managed to keep by letting the owner fool around with Giovanni from Oscar's place. Gio was tired like always, he was buzzing from the small taste of coke Oscar gave him to wake him up a little when he was done with him, he was embarrassed because that time Rory had been in the room with them, and mostly he just wanted to sleep. He was such an idiot for thinking that Rory would allow him to sleep. Probably more of an idiot for thinking he deserved rest. Rory was being nice to him in the car, calling him cute, she was such a fucking liar, telling him he was "a precious puppy", he felt nothing short of a repulsive monster, and petting through his hair, he never wanted anyone to touch him again.

Rory was nice to him when they went inside, too. Her hands were all over him, in all the same places that Oscar's had been, but with their own trademark tenderness along with their trademark perversion. Gio got lost in her movements, he let himself enjoy the gentle, almost teasing, touches. Then he let her push him back onto the bed, he let her crawl on top of him, he let her take his clothes off for a second time that day, he wanted to cry when she kissed him and pushed a pill onto his tongue with her own.

He didn't hate her then, he always enjoyed being used by her more than any of the others, and he felt nearly happy for the first time since he left with her. He was just high and all fucked out from Rory and Oscar. After, she rested her head against his bare chest, holding him close to her.

"You're wonderful, Gio," she told him, "You're the perfect person to do this with."

"To do what with, miss?" He knows he needs to stop asking questions, she doesn't owe him any explanation. But she's murdering him, the least she could do is explain herself.

She sat up to look at him, smiling at him like she always did. She looked beautiful. She looked just as sick as Gio felt. "Do you know about Romeo and Juliet?"

He did, although he didn't know why. "Yeah."

"That's like us, don't you think?" She crawled back on top of him, kissing him all over as she spoke. "Forbidden love, destined to never be fully together, dying in each others arms."

He was silenced for a moment, unsure which part of that he should address first. Did Rory love him? Of course not, he was unlovable, she was just high. They both were. And more than that, did she just confirm the meaning behind all of this: to die? Gio had spent the last few weeks stuck with her trying to convince himself that he was ok with that, that he would let Rory do what she wanted, and if she wanted him dead then he wouldn't protest against her. But hearing her admit it scared him. Maybe it was because he was foolish enough to hold onto a little hope that she wouldn't do something so horrible. She knew what she was doing, this entire time she knew that she was killing them both, and it was romantic to her. He was disgusted. He was horrified. He hated her.

"Rory," he whimpered, trying with his weakened arms to push her off of him. She was persistent, and had it been any other situation, Gio would've given up. He would've been quiet and just lay still and let Rory have her way with him yet again. But he was so scared, he was shaking, and he pushed at her again, harder. He didn't want to die. "Rory I don't want to die!'

She climbed off of him, allowing him to sit up and hide his face in his hands so she wouldn't see him crying. She was frowning at him, like she couldn't comprehend what he was saying. "You...You don't?"

"No! No, I don't want to die!" Gio was surprised in himself for shouting at her, for snapping his head up and looking right at her and yelling. She jumped back like she was afraid of him. She was such an idiot, didn't she know that she was the threat in this situation?

"Gio..." She shook her head to herself, then he could see her looking around the room, probably to locate the drug bag they had just picked up. "I just thought that you...I thought maybe you'd want some sort of escape. I know I would, if I were you."

He cried harder at that, but the tears felt different than usual. They weren't tears of fear or sadness, but tears of boiling anger. Did everyone think that of him? That he was so miserable and pathetic he must want a way out, he was such a hopeless situation he might as well just die? He didn't want to die, he didn't want to have some "forbidden love" with Rory, he didn't want the drugs, he didn't want any of this. "I want to go home. I want to go back with Nicko."

"What? No, Gio! No, come on, we're having a good time. We don't have t-to die, I was just kidding!" She laughed nervously to try and sell her point. He could sense her desperation, only this time he didn't want to help her. "You don't really wanna go back there, Gio-"

"I don't want this, Rory!" He pushed himself off of the bed and started to pull his clothes back on. "I don't fucking love you-"

"Gio!"

"And I don't want to kill myself for you! I want to go home, Rory! Take me home!"

The room fell silent after that. Gio wasn't afraid of punishment, he couldn't feel anything past his anger and hatred for Rory. He wiped his tears away, he knew they made him look weak, and he stared Rory down for a few more seconds. Just outside, he could hear two men shouting at each other. He wondered if anyone could hear him yelling at Rory. He wondered if they could tell if it was a box boy speaking out of turn and if they would take matters into their own hands to correct him.

"Fine." Rory spoke through her teeth, yanking her own shirt back on as she did. Gio couldn't believe that it worked so easily. "I'll take you back to Nicko. You ungrateful fuck."

He was ungrateful, he knew that. He didn't care.

Rory played the music louder than she ever had, signifying that she had nothing to say to Gio and didn't want to hear a word out of him. He liked it better that way, anyway, he didn't want to talk to her. She didn't take him all the way back up to Nicko's house, instead stopping down the street so he would have to walk past all of the neighbors houses in the snow to get there. He was more than happy to face the cold again rather than stay around Rory another agonizing second.

When he made it to the front door, something made him freeze. He had convinced himself that Nicko would be angry with him for leaving, and the idea of adding anymore pain to his already mangled body made him feel sick with anxiety. Or what if Nicko replaced him while he was gone? What if the new boxie was better than him? What if Nicko was glad that Gio left and would just send him back to the facility once he came back?

Then he decided that all of that was worth the risk of being inside a warm house, where his favorite person was, where Salem was, where he had a soft pink sweater hidden underneath his beanbag. So, with his last bit of energy, he reached out and knocked against the heavy wooden door.

[celosiaa]

your EDS jon AU + martin as a conversation i had with my roommate recently? "the worst activity for my joints is actually putting on pants. when i pick my leg up and then throw it back down through the pant leg, it tends to throw my hip out of socket." "put your pants on the floor and step into them, then pull them up?" "but then there will be cat hair on my pants :/" "what kind of life are you living where those are the same level of inconvenience"

so as it turns out this was not supposed to be a prompt but thank you for letting me write it anyway!!!!! Had so much fun with this and hope you like it <3

(Emma is around 8 years old at this time, Jon is a professor, and Martin has the day off. Hayati is Arabic for “my life,” and habibi means “my love”)

“Jon, darling, isn’t it almost time for you to go?”

“Hmm?” Jon says distantly, turning his head without taking his eyes from the laptop screen.  “What was that?

Pivoting around with spatula in hand, he sees Martin in his periphery, placing a hand on his hip in an expression that says “eyes on me, please.”  To be fair, there is a lot to distract him—between trying to help Emma hurriedly assemble her project before school, and the constant pinging of his email as students send him questions mere hours before their exam.

“I said, isn’t it time for you to go?”  Martin repeats, glancing quickly up and down Jon’s current state of dishevelment, eyes going wide.  “Jon! You don’t even have your trousers on!”

“Wh—“

Looking down quickly, he finds that Martin is unfortunately correct.

“Errrgggh,” he groans dramatically, tipping his head against the back of his chair.  “I miss teaching online classes.”

“That is possibly the whiniest noise I have ever heard from you,” Martin chuckles, turning back around to flip Emma’s pancake.

“Martin,” Jon continues with a grin, keeping his voice as whiny as possible.  “You’re being so terribly cruel, hayati.”

“Ah yes, that’s me all round, so terrible of me to make sure my husband gets to work on time,” he says, plating Emma’s pancakes and dropping a kiss onto Jon’s head on the way to hand them to her.

“Thanks Dad!” Emma beams excitedly, popsicle-stick tower nearly collapsing in her haste to shovel large bites of cinnamon pancake into her mouth.

“Careful, Em,” Jon chides gently, reaching out to hold the tower steady while the glue dries.

“Sorry, Baba.”

“Just hurry and finish your breakfast, or you’ll be late,” Jon says, closing his laptop with his free hand to reveal Martin, glaring at him from across the table.

“I know, I know, I need to hurry too,” he says with a small smile, which Martin tries very hard not to return.  “It’s just that—well, putting on trousers is…actually one of the worst activities for my joints.”

“It is?  I didn’t know that,” Martin replies, eyebrows shooting up into his hair.  “I-I feel like I should have, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not a mind-reader,” Jon reminds him, for what feels like the hundredth time.  “And I didn’t say anything before.”

“Right…right.  Okay, apology redacted, then” Martin says, offering a smile over the mug of his tea. “Why is it bad for your joints?”

“When I pick up my leg and then throw it back down through the trouser leg, it tends to throw my hip out of socket.  It’s very frustrating,” Jon explains, and Martin nods with furrowing brows—an indication that he’s determined to come up with some solution.

“Hmm.  Maybe put your trousers on the floor and step into them, then pull them up?”

“Cat hair, Martin,” Jon replies, shaking his head with a grimace.  “There would be cat hair everywhere, and I’d have to get out the lint roller again.”

“Jon.  Habibi,” Martin laughs, a wide grin coloring his tone.  “What kind of life are you living where those things are the same level of inconvenience to you?”

“A realistic one,” he replies with feeling.  “The cat hair is horrendous, you know it as well as I do.”

“Alright, alright,” Martin grins, holding his hands up in surrender.  “Well, I can vacuum our room more often, see if you find that acceptable.”

“So romantic, darling.  You simply must be a poet.”

“Shut it,” Martin replies softly, taking Emma’s empty plate from the table as she runs off to collect her backpack.  “Go put on your trousers, then.  And please don’t injure yourself.”

“Anything for you, dear.”

“Jon, for the love of—”

“Going, I’m going,” Jon laughs, standing from the table and pecking Martin’s cheek.  “But if I look like I’ve turned into a cat by the time I get to lecture, I’m blaming it on you.”

“Now, hold on a moment—“

“Sorry, got to hurry!” Jon shouts as he retreats to their bedroom, closing the door on Martin’s eyes rolling fondly in his direction.

[ayellowcurtain]

Prompt: maybe Lucas going to one of these urbex parties (invited by Eliott of course) and someone there thinking they have an open relationship because of the [redacted] with Lola, he hits on Lucas and Eliott founds out is not funny being on the other side of things.

Eliott at the urbex party with Mayas Gang (+Lola) while Lucas went to a party with the boy squad and they bump into each other in the roads late at night and Eliott does the typical seeing Lucas noice and running over to him to kiss him and Jo is just like "biggest Elu shipper in the world"?

Eliott had finally created the courage to invited Lucas and the boys to an urbex party. It’s his two worlds colliding in one public place and so he can’t help but feel a little insecure. Especially of Lucas’ reaction since it took Eliott months to actually invite him to come to one of his favorite places to party.

Lucas went out before him, telling him that he was going to Yann’s first. He didn’t ask, didn’t warn, just told Eliott where he was going while Eliott was still taking a shower.

He left their bathroom to find an empty and quiet flat to himself. Eliott would be lying if he said it didn’t sting. The feeling of being left behind when Lucas could very well invite him to go to Yann’s too, but he didn’t.

They text each other and Lucas will meet him there with the boys so Eliott goes alone to the urbex place of choice. He’s done this so many times by now, but tonight feels weird, harder.

He tries to ease his worries as he gets to the party, meeting the Lamifex right away and they’re a good way to keep himself busy, with their loud voices, talking over each other, always sort of disagreeing in a loving way.

If Eliott could draw them, they would all be some type of pack of wild puppies. These days he’s only been able to draw a raccoon and a hedgehog, nothing else.

Jo drags him to go paint something outside and everyone else follows, watching them closely. Lola and Maya are a little further away, clearly talking about something private, but Eliott doesn’t care. He’s happy they’re finally talking, but he doesn’t care enough to risk losing Lucas so he keeps his distance for now.

But suddenly, everyone goes quiet and Eliott frowns, looking over his shoulder only to be starstruck like the others. Lucas and the boys are there, walking upstairs like they’re some sort of a rock band. Eliott’s world starts moving so slowly, in high definition as he watches Lucas mess up his hair, finally finding Eliott close to the ground, crouching down to pain the wall in front of him.

Nobody else except for Lola knows Lucas and the boys and they don’t have the best experiences with each other, so Eliott quickly gets up, suddenly feeling so nervous, like this is his first time talking to Lucas.

“Hi...” Lucas says very carefully and to everyone, clearly not wanting to have to say hi privately to everyone, to Lola.

Everyone is still kind of looking around each other, blushing a little and Eliott can’t believe his boyfriend and all his friends are creating this shock with the Lamifex.

“This is Lucas...my boyfriend.” Eliott finally manages to recover himself enough to use his words to form a sentence, standing closer to Lucas, leaving an uncertain kiss on his lips.

“I thought you two were in an open relationship, because of Lo-” Sekou says with his usual matter-of-fact kind of way and Eliott panics, sees how Lucas clenches his jaw and just looks down, but thankfully Max changes the subject, giving Lucas and the boys all their names. They all move on from that phrase quickly and Eliott stands by Lucas’ side, hearing The Gang getting to know Lamifex.

Eliott wants to talk, to ask if Lucas is okay, why he left the house like that, but not in front of everyone. For right now, he’s just happy they’re in the same place for once.

Jo keeps staring at him and Lucas until she can’t help herself, stepping closer, stopping right in front of them “You guys are so cute! You look so good together...” 

Lucas is caught by surprise, frowning but he laughs shyly and Eliott smiles, feeling proud for some reason. 

“We brought some beer, if you guys want!” Yann says and the Lamifex is more than excited about it, pulling Yann - literally by his arm - to show where they can go to sit and drink for a little bit.

Lucas follows them and Eliott follows him, biting the inside of his lip to keep his words to himself.

The night goes well, still with a hint of awkwardness, but mostly is ignored. Lola ignores Lucas, Lucas ignores Lola and they all get along way too well even. Baz and Arthur try to learn with Jo how she dances and Lucas watches them, laughing and teasing his friends with Yann, close to Eliott, but not really acknologing him.

Eliott notices how a guy approaches them, sitting where Baz was, right next to Lucas, trying to create a conversation about the dance party happening in front of them. He and Lucas start talking excitedly about Lucas’ friends and their terrible dancing skills. Sekou joins them and Eliott reminds of what he said before. The guy is clearly interested in Lucas, not even trying to hide it and Sekou seems to know him.

“Hi...” Eliott cuts their conversation short, raising his arm in front of Lucas. Sekou’s friend is a little confused, looking at Sekou and back to Eliott, shaking his hand.

“Hi...?”

“I’m Eliott? Lucas’ boyfriend.” Eliott raises his eyebrows and nods his head towards Lucas like it’s not obvious they’re talking about him.

“Oh...Hm, I’m Leo.” He finally shakes Eliott’s hand, clearly uncomfortable for getting caught hitting on someone that’s in a relationship.

Jo suddenly grabs Lucas’ hand and he and Yann are gone to the dance floor with the others. Eliott watches and Sekou comes to sit in between him and Leo.

-

At some point, Eliott lost sight of Lucas and the boys. He bites his nails, drinking his beer slowly, it’s even getting warm and disgusting. Maya comes to join him and Eliott smiles at her, shoving his hand inside his pocket.

“Hey, you.” She bumps her arm against his and he laughs.

“Hi! How are you?” He raises his eyebrows and nods his head, Lola is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m good, having fun. Trying to keep Max and Jo alive. You?” Eliott smiles at her just because Maya doesn’t deserve to be in the receiving end of his annoyance, but he looks down, not really caring to completely hide his sudden bad mood.

“Good too! Kind of tired though...”

Maya hums and Eliott looks at her again, knowing that there’s a lot more inside her head than just a word. “It’s still early, but yeah, you’re always the first one to leave.”

She teases and Eliott sighs in defeat. She’s not wrong. Usually he always get the sudden need to be with Lucas and so he’s always the first one to rush back home.

“And Lola?” He asks and Maya holds his stare, nodding her head.

“Went on a walk with Max. Probably to smoke. A normal cigar.” Eliott bite the inside of his cheek and nods his head like Maya does.

“Better than weed, I guess.”

Maya shrugs, probably agreeing with him. It’s a long process, Lola is a lot better, but Maya probably thinks it would be best for her to stop smoking completely. She’s not wrong, again, but she understands this process is not a quick one so Lola needs more time and maybe to grow up a little more. Maya is a lot more extreme than Eliott is, a lot stronger too.

Their conversation is interrupted when Eliott finally finds Lucas again. Coming back inside with Yann and Arthur.

“I gotta go.” He says to Maya, but doesn’t bother to say a proper goodbye.

Eliott rushes to Lucas like he’s the air he needs, crashing into him with a quick kiss, not caring Lucas is caught by surprise.

“Can we go home?” He asks and Lucas looks around at the boys, like he doesn’t want to leave with Eliott, but his emotions - his care for Eliott or his feelings for him - are louder than his pride.

“Okay...”

Lucas says goodbye to Yann and Arthur and Eliott follows him. Yann hugs him a little tighter and longer than normal and Eliott feels a little ashamed, not meeting Yann’s eyes before leaving with Lucas.

They walk through the empty streets with a heavy, full of unsaid word silence between them. Eliott breaths in to gather some courage and he holds Lucas’ jacket by his elbow, making him stop and turn to look at him.

“I’m sorry...”

“Huh?”

“For what I did today...and with the movie.”

Lucas digests his quick explanation, opens his mouth and wets his lips with his tongue before explaining. “I was just talking to him...”

He shrugs and Eliott puts all his weight on his tiptoes, controlling his urge to touch Lucas.

“I know. I know and I was just...jealous.” Before the awkward silence becomes unbearable again, Eliott repeats the words that kept dancing around his head all night long. “I can’t lose you, Lucas.”

Lucas doesn’t answer, just looks down and Eliott sighs, coming closer, holding his face gently, but not asking for anything, just using Lucas’ presence to calm them both down a little bit.

When a second goes by, Eliott gently moves Lucas to look up at him. He’s so beautiful, even when he’s broken.

“I like you. I like us. I like being around you, hearing your crazy stories, watching you with your friends, seeing how much you care for them. I like your personality, how brave you are, how fearless and reckless you can be, how much love you want to give, I like that you’re adventurous, I like that you give people so many chances and sometimes you don’t give them not even two, sometimes you give all of yourself and sometimes you don’t even bother. I like who you are, all of it, how much you care...about me. I don’t just love you, you know? I don’t just love you because you’re with me. I just genuely love who you are.”

Lucas quivers under his touch as he exhales and whispers. “Stop...”

“You don’t even know. I could go on for days.” Eliott huffs and draws an invisible line with the tip of his nose along Lucas’.

“You don’t have to.” Lucas quietly shake his head. “But I told you how I wasn’t that perfect person you thought I was. You were warned since the beggining.” He teases like he always does when he’s trying to lighten the mood and keep himself from crying.  

“Lucas...” Eliott laughs, his eyes following his thumbs caressing Lucas’ cheeks. “I just told you: I like everything, all of it. You deserve all the love and I wanna be the person that gives it to you.” Eliott says like a confession, even though he thought Lucas already knew about all of this, it still feels a lot telling him with actual words. Eliott has to meet Lucas’ eyes to make sure he understands.

“Yeah, but you deserve better. And I’m sorry for being such a fucking asshole. I can’t stop myself sometimes.”

Eliott kisses him to stop Lucas from thinking so little of himself again, thinking he was the only one in the wrong, like he’s only made of bad bones when that’s so far from the truth. “I don’t want you to. I don’t want us to live our life holding back from each other anymore.”

Lucas nods his head, whispering. “We can try.”

“Yes, we can.”

Lucas looks down again, resting his forehead against Eliott’s chest and he lets him, kissing the top of his head.

“I like you too. So very much, you’ll never be able to fully understand.” Lucas confesses and Eliott smiles against his hair.

“Try me. Every day.”

Lucas puts his arms around Eliott and he can feel Lucas’ hands gabbring the back of his jacket so tightly.