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kay-jaye · 7 months ago

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apology dance (1650's version)

for my dear @lillioba. thanks for inspiring me to write this! 6k words of blood, sweat, tears, two mental breakdowns, and tons of historical research. i might be starting the whole "i was wrong dance" series. i've got plans.

we could have lived this dance forever by kayjaye (T)

“You know,” Aziraphale said, hushed tone drawing the demon’s gaze, “in regards to forbidden things, well, there’s always the…underground scene.” “Underground,” repeated Crowley. “Sounds hellish.” “No, not like—” Aziraphale glanced around them, aware of his voice resuming normal volume, then fell back into a whisper. “Not like Hell.” “Aziraphale, are you enlisting me to engage in an illegal theatrical gathering?” “I was simply asking if you’d care to join me for a show, dear.” * Or 1650 presents...Underground theater, the Adultery Act, and an apology dance. Starring: - Aziraphale “the Puritans made me do it” Fell AND - Anthony J“who said lust was my specialty?” Crowley

read on ao3 or here!

*****

“Are you even listening to me, Crowley?”

Crowley took a swig of his drink—or it could’ve been Aziraphale’s drink for all he knew. It was alcoholic (that was what mattered), tasting distinctly of fruit, but unlike any wine or sherry he’d known Aziraphale to frequent.

He scolded the smile off his face, hiding its stubborn remains behind the rim of the beaker. “By default, certainly not the one doing the talking right now.”

Aziraphale fixed him with a disapproving glare before folding, unfolding, and folding his hands on the table. The pub was at half capacity, but no one paid much attention to the copious number of beverages served in their direction.

Crowley didn’t plan on running into Aziraphale in London. In fact, Crowley tried very hard not to make a habit of planning on the angel at all, but the shreds of hope were tolerable and, more importantly, excusable. He wouldn’t be too let down, and they wouldn’t have to recognize the blatant defiance against their respective sides that came with scheduling meetings. Coincidence was safer.

Poetic, even.

“Those damn Puritans,” mumbled Aziraphale.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “Rather blasphemous,” he mused. “Are they? Damned?”

“You— I mean, theaters, Crowley, really? What’s the point in shutting down entertainment? And during war? Sometimes, it’s as if they want to be as miserable as humanly possible.” Aziraphale searched the table for a moment, spotted the cup in Crowley’s hands, and slumped forward. “It’s not—”

“Fair?”

Aziraphale sighed. “What’s not fair is you polishing off the rest of my drink.”

“It was on me anyway,” Crowley said. “I’ll get you another.”

“No, it’s quite alright.”

Staring at the being in front of him, Crowley pointedly set the cup down. “Seems you’ve got plenty of dramatics to make up for the lack thereof,” he said, not as successful at hiding his amusement this time.

Crowley knew Aziraphale’s grievances were partly rooted in the simple pleasure of having someone to tell them to. As soon as he received news about the Puritan ban on public stage plays, the likelihood of a vexed angel appearing increased tenfold. Not that he kept track of the events he was sure Aziraphale would have words for, but when they did happen to run into each other, he was extremely pleased with the accuracy of his subconscious guesses to the real thing. Wasn’t very demonic of him to take pride in how well he knew an angel, but he could blame the snake in him for wanting to see just how unangelic he could make said angel as he registered his complaints.

“It’s been years!” Aziraphale threw his hands up, finally attracting the eyes of a few patrons across the pub.

“No need to lose your head about it, angel. Would hate to see you end up like ex-King Charlie,” Crowley said as he stretched his arms and collapsed back against the chair. “And it’s been eight years. We’ve been around for—”

“So you’re counting too.”

A snort escaped him as he lounged deeper. “Only because in 1642, you stormed in to fuss about good ol’ Willy’s forced retirement.”

“I did not storm—”

“Oh, it was a great storm. Plenty of lightning.”

“Or fuss—”

“I would’ve argued he stepped down in 1616, you know, when he—”

“Good Lord.”

“Careful,” warned Crowley. “She might actually answer you one day.”

He was afraid he’d taken it too far when Aziraphale didn’t respond with some version of quick-witted chastisement. If Crowley blinked more often, he would’ve missed the once-over from Aziraphale, as though the angel were just now realizing they were in each other’s company. He was about to say something—not of any comprehensive language, maybe an indecipherable noise caught in the back of his throat he could play off as a change in conversation—but Aziraphale wore this loaded expression on his face, and Crowley refrained from interrupting, keen on hearing whatever thought had Aziraphale’s jaw set in such a way.

Then he shook his head. “You are insufferable,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley nudged the empty cup lightly across the table, humming, “You must be fond of suffering, then.”

…And that was his cue, a sign that he’d had too much and needed to call it a day—a night—how long had they been here? The sun dipped lower without him noticing, light collecting in a slim orange line at the bottom of the nearest window. Thank Someone, Crowley had yet to reach the point of drunkenness that loosened his tongue and left him completely oblivious to it. So far, just the former, and he could work with that.

“Not of suffering, no,” came Aziraphale’s rebuttal.

Crowley’s mouth twitched at the carefully placed denial, and he wondered if it had been purposefully crafted to sound more like a confession instead. With that statement, Aziraphale seemed to lay something out on the table, but when Crowley looked down, there was nothing except the angel’s hands, still folded far too prim and proper for someone who’d drunk his fair share tonight.

But like every time Aziraphale waved this olive branch in front of him, doubt swallowed Crowley. He could be mistaken. It could be any other plant-based stem. He was undeniably selfish when it came to this particular temptation, and even so, Crowley could not bring himself to reach out and take it, in diametric contradiction to his nature, concerned with doing the “right” thing (not by Her standards, mind you; by a mostly rule-following bastard, if anyone) and remaining complacent in speaking with words capable of passing undetected.

If not that, angel, what are you fond of?

It was a question that could not receive an answer, he knew that.

Hesitant to end the night but equally at a loss for excuses to prolong it, Crowley sat up and gestured for their cups to be retrieved. By the time the table was cleared and Crowley had slipped back into his jacket, Aziraphale worked up the nerve to say what he’d conceivably been trying to say all evening.

“You know,” Aziraphale said, hushed tone drawing the demon’s gaze, “in regards to forbidden things, well, there’s always the…underground scene.”

“Underground,” repeated Crowley. “Sounds hellish.”

“No, not like—” Aziraphale glanced around them, aware of his voice resuming normal volume, then fell back into a whisper. “Not like Hell.”

Crowley took his time inhaling, well-practiced at feigning impassivity, for the sake of testing whether Aziraphale had it in him to address a request directly. He leaned forward, elbow propped on the table, chin in hand, and cocked his head, fully committed to just as much dramatic flair as his counterpart.

“Aziraphale, are you enlisting me to engage in an illegal theatrical gathering?”

Aziraphale smiled, and his hands finally unclasped. “I was simply asking if you’d care to join me for a show, dear.”

Thank Someone for his glasses; Crowley didn’t want to think about how his eyes lit up at the mere suggestion. His reply was the same as it had been since Rome, even if Crowley tacked on, “Because it’d be a shame to miss an angel partaking in unlawful activity,” in the interest of saving some face.

Following Aziraphale out, Crowley nodded his thanks as he ducked past the angel holding the door for him. They walked in step, the evening quiet blurring into the background.

With an excited, tipsy lilt, though sober enough to avoid stumbling when he walked, Aziraphale recounted how he knew the venue host. A noise of acknowledgement forced itself from the demon’s throat, but he couldn’t recite the name of the English nobleman funding the illicit show or explain how Aziraphale obtained access to such private affairs if prompted. Crowley’s attention waned in favor of watching Aziraphale slip his fingers beneath his shirt collar, tugging the fabric to rub his neck. Crowley swallowed, told himself it was the stitching that was admirable and nothing else.

The outside certainly didn’t look like any theater Crowley had ever attended, granted he didn’t usually note the architecture of the places Aziraphale coerced him into. Unlike the Globe, this one promised a complete roof. Initially mistaken for any regular tavern or pub, a brick arch preceded the pillar-lined entryway suitable for a respectable manor. Aziraphale led them through a maze of hallways, and Crowley blankly surrendered to either requiring Aziraphale’s assistance or a literal miracle if he intended to leave this labyrinth. Finally, they came across a young man standing guard outside a pair of ajar ballroom doors.

If you considered his thin frame and fidgety disposition guard-worthy characteristics, that is.

“Mr. Fell, glad to see you could make it,” he addressed the angel.

“As am I, Walter,” said Aziraphale, cheery as ever.

The man turned to Crowley, suddenly apprehensive. “And you, sir…?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale cut in, leaning forward as if to tell a secret. Crowley half expected to see the angel’s giddy wiggle at anything remotely sneaky. “He’s with me.”

That, though…that was not what he was expecting.

Despite his best efforts, Crowley fought a losing battle in the struggle to maintain a stoically cool expression. Shock? Or satisfying pride? At least his jaw didn’t hit the floor. It was strikingly far from He’s not my friend. We’ve never met before. We don’t know each other.

And it was altogether so easy to misconstrue:

He’s with me. We’re together. How silly to think otherwise.

A pregnant pause before Crowley noticed Aziraphale looking at him, waiting for…ah, yes. He extended a hand blindly in Walter’s direction and forcibly dragged his heavy gaze away from the angel.

Not quick enough to avoid narrowing blue.

“A friend of Mr. Fell’s,” he said matter-of-factly, and perhaps a bit indulgently. “Anonymity is essential at these types of things, is it not?”

Walter smiled and shook his hand. Something about that little human gesture always tickled Crowley when he was on the other end of it. A deal with…well, not the devil, but by association, sure. His returning smile was more amused than pleased to meet, and Aziraphale knew exactly why. If the admonishing eye-roll, accompanied by a soft laugh, pivoting into a muffled cough, and then an attempt to clear his throat, was any indication.

While Aziraphale exchanged pleasantries with Walter, Crowley took the opportunity to peek into what he assumed was the house, surprised to find a large audience already sitting. A candle-lit chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting overhead light along with the sconces on the walls, punctuating each row of seats. The stage itself appeared brighter, most likely the work of reflectors.

Crowley was impressed, not only with the set design but also with the number of people willing to face fines for attending clandestine performances.

Hell probably loved all the rule-breaking.

Likewise, Heaven probably loved the Puritan devotion to having no fun.

The ghost of Aziraphale’s hand appeared, hovering just above the small of Crowley’s back, not touching but burning all the same. “Ready?” Aziraphale whispered behind him.

Crowley bit down, his focus solely on resisting the urge to lean back and close the distance, forgo dancing flames and feel the fire firsthand. Such an effort required utmost concentration, so if the noise Crowley made sounded strained, it was purely because he’d forgotten to breathe.

As they settled in their seats, the ambient murmur of conversation gradually tapered off, drowned out by the resonant thud of the closing doors echoing through the theater. Crowley folded his glasses into his pocket, now concealed in dim darkness where attention would undoubtedly be centered on the stage. An anticipatory silence enveloped the room, broken as an actor dashed into view, waving a letter in his hands and declaring word from Don Pedro.

One of the funny ones, then. Crowley was just relieved it wasn’t a tragedy.

The play progressed smoothly into its second act with practiced precision, succeeding yet again at impressing the demon. Periodically, he observed Aziraphale’s reactions to the parts that elicited laughter from the crowd, and he was met with the same angel delight present during the premiere some 40 years ago.

That is, until the abrupt scene change. He’d heard of improv before, but introducing a completely new character seemed like a stretch.

“Oi, Thomas!”

A man emerged on stage.

Crowley leaned forward for a better look at the newcomer striding across the floor, and next to him, Aziraphale straightened as well.

“Is there a Thomas in this one?” Crowley whispered, glancing at Aziraphale, but the confusion was obvious in creased white-blond eyebrows, too. He could’ve sworn this was Much Ado About Nothing. Like the actor evidently named Thomas, Aziraphale shook his head in puzzled bewilderment.

Benedick-now-Thomas took a step back, managing a shaky, “Henry?” before the advancing man reached his target and responded with a rough shove against the actor’s shoulders.

“You knave! You slept with Catherine.”

A murmur rippled through the audience.

“I don’t remember this part,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley spared another glimpse at the angel focused on the unfolding scene, an uncertain crowd waiting for things to make sense. It was a familiar feeling—trouble brewing, boiling under the surface; he was used to being the cause of it, however. Crowley crossed his arms and relaxed back into his seat.

They came for a show. A show it would be.

“Catherine?” Thomas said. “Your wife? By God, Henry, I didn’t—”

“You may be on a stage, but don’t act daft,” said Henry. Balled fists were enough of a threat to send Thomas knocking into props. “Just last night, I saw you and that bedswerver enter the Star Inn together.”

The other actors stood awkwardly, some peeking offstage for further instruction but ultimately conflicted on how to react to the sudden intrusion. Crowley saw several audience members whispering to each other.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Thomas insisted.

Henry glared at the man with a curled lip so ugly, Crowley could make out the sneer from where he was sitting. “I ought to have this place shut down,” said Henry, “but I’m sure you’re aware of the price of adultery these days, fitting as it is.”

Commotion buzzed through the audience again.

“You’d have them execute your own wife?!”

“She ceased to be that the moment you had her.”

“I haven’t, Henry, I wouldn’t—”

Crowley turned toward Aziraphale, ready to make a comment about drama writing itself, a callback to the world being a stage or the world being an oyster (oysters were a touchy subject for Crowley…as in they kindled a stifling desire for touch), but the angel had gone stock-still. No more craning his neck for a better view, just frozen silence pulling the ends of his mouth down.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale stared straight ahead, but Crowley suspected he wasn’t actually looking at anything anymore, rather thinking with his eyes open. “It was me,” Aziraphale said, barely audible.

“What was you?”

“I was the one who met with her.”

Crowley blanched. Snakes are cold-blooded creatures, but the ice flowing through his veins was an entirely new sensation.

“You” —think of a different word, think of a better word, there are so many other words— “fucked her?”

It was almost comical, the seconds between the time it took Aziraphale to register Crowley’s question. His distracted stupor morphed into panic as he zeroed in on the demon, and Crowley received a pair of wide eyes mirroring his own. He witnessed the angel’s frantic grapple for words that hit a blockade and went down the wrong pipe. Even in the low lighting, the rosy hue of flushed cheeks and burnt ears stood out as Aziraphale choked on his reply.

Meanwhile, Crowley was busy trying to wrap his head around the image of Aziraphale engaging in…ngk, let’s not go there.

To Aziraphale’s mouth, currently agape in alarm, but reminiscent of what else those lips might part for. To Aziraphale’s fingers slithering farther than just his shirt collar. To Aziraphale’s hands and their branding heat. To Aziraphale’s insatiable hunger for food that must surely translate to other mortal appetites.

And even worse, the softer fantasies. The love wafting off in waves. The “my dear” pressed into bare skin. The assurance of never hitting the ground again. Arms so safe they could make a demon forget what falling feels like.

Had he ever really stopped? Was he still plummeting through layers of ozone and dirt? Did the stomach-sinking, wings-burning, halo-shattering ache ever disappear, or was he merely used to the eternal descent?

Used to being dropped.

And there it was at its core—yearning to be held. Crowley didn’t know how he knew, but unforgivable as he was, damned and disowned, he knew.

Aziraphale would hold and hold and hold.

He was probably that kind of lover; he was an angel, after all.

An angel.

Holy fuck. He was an angel who made an effort—

“No!” hissed Aziraphale.

Most of the audience had resorted to shifting in their seats, peering around the room and filling the space with growing chatter after Henry marched off stage and Thomas darted in the other direction. The remaining actors floundered until someone announced a brief interlude.

Aziraphale floundered too before grabbing Crowley’s wrist. “Come on,” he said, and they filed out of the theater with a few other deserters.

Crowley kept his thoughts to himself as Aziraphale hauled them outside where the temperature had noticeably dipped. The angel halted, surveyed the area, too paranoid to be inconspicuous, then walked farther down the street to turn the corner with Crowley in tow.

Now alone, the atmosphere felt as surreptitious as public stage plays.

“I didn’t—” Aziraphale said, finally releasing his grip on Crowley.

The demon waited.

Aziraphale crumbled into a pout. “...with her. I didn’t—We didn’t do that.”

“So you didn’t fuck her?”

“Really, there’s no need to be crass.” Aziraphale took a breath. “Mrs. Beckford and I met at the Star Inn to talk about the play. Like I told you before” —when Crowley was definitely paying attention; the pinnacle of an avid listener at all times, him, obviously— “her husband affords the theater. He makes the whole thing possible.” Suddenly, the brick wall behind Crowley became curiously fascinating as Aziraphale averted his eyes and said, “I wanted—well, you liked this one back in 1612, so I just asked if…”

Without the weight of his glasses, Crowley couldn’t discern how successful he was at disguising the toss-and-turn in his head. Shock expired, spoiling into bitterness, soon replaced by awe. He couldn’t decide which was more embarrassing: that he only enjoyed Much Ado About Nothing because Aziraphale loved it so much, or that Aziraphale took it upon himself to request a show he thought Crowley would appreciate.

“So I suppose it’s my fault for the misunderstanding?” Crowley quipped, prepared to brush past the admission.

“Well, isn’t it?”

Crowley frowned. “I was joking.”

“It won’t be funny when Catherine gets killed for something she didn’t do,” Aziraphale said. “And Thomas, wrongly accused.”

“So what? You’ll tell them it was you instead?” Aziraphale seemed to actually consider it, which made Crowley groan, “Mr. Beckford—Henry, or whatever—sounded pretty convinced of what went down.” Satan knows they never believe the women. Witches, all of them. “Angel, you’d be ki—discorporated. You know they execute the woman AND her lover, right?”

Aziraphale started to place his hands on his hips, then thought better of it and crossed them over his chest. “Yes, well, you would know, wouldn’t you?”

Crowley’s frustration narrowed into a glare. “What’s that mean?”

“You’re the reason for this awful adultery law, aren’t you?” said Aziraphale, assertive even in his flustered state.

“Sorry?”

“Did you want me to forgive you?”

Crowley almost flinched. “I meant, what are you on about? I didn’t start the law,” he said. “Adultery is one of your side’s Big Ten.”

“Not killing people is also a commandment,” Aziraphale stated.

Crowley bristled at the angel’s disdainful tone. “She’s always been rather hypocritical when it comes to violence. Bit of an oxymoron, holy war,” he said hotly.

“Either Hell assigned the Adultery Act to you,” Aziraphale said, steering back to the original point, “or you just…”

“I just what?”

“Or you’re just the Serpent of Eden!”

The fight knocked clean out of him.

Aziraphale shrugged in exasperated defeat, and all Crowley could do was stare. “Tempted Eve and doomed them both,” he continued. “A test of faith and irrevocable punishment sounds right up your alley.”

Crowley refused to call it betrayal, so he chalked it up to the consequences of mixing low expectations with hope. Aziraphale felt guilty about Catherine and Thomas, he knew that, but Crowley had been labeled guilty for a long time.

“Test of faith and irrevocable punishment,” Crowley echoed. “I think you’ve got it wrong, Aziraphale. You know who that does sound like?”

He looked up at the sky.

Aziraphale didn’t respond.

“And I am the serpent,” said Crowley, forcefully venomous. Then softer, “You were there, remember?”

Neither of them spoke, but the demon offered a single lingering opening that went untouched. He turned and walked away.

The angel let him.

———————

Crowley woke up hungover, something he didn’t usually allow. The light pouring through the inn window was far too bright, but no matter how hard he tried to miracle the shutters closed, he couldn’t escape the splitting headache of being awake. He reluctantly sobered up, exerting most of his energy toward the endeavor and rolling his eyes at the realization he’d no doubt get plastered again in a few hours. It was already late afternoon when he coaxed himself out of bed.

At least he’d been too drunk to dream. He did not need to see the angel anytime soon.

Serpent of Eden.

Her book loved to paint him as some vile creature instigating the fall. Every translation since man managed to hold a pen, the depiction of deceit.

True, he did tempt Eve. He liked Eve, though. She never quite forgave him outright for the apple, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d stuck around after the garden, known her as they lived out their separate retributions. In his opinion, he reckoned knowledge made her all the more likable. Except for that infuriating habit of pointing out when a certain guardian of the general eastern direction was looking. She’d teased him until his face was redder than forbidden fruit, and then she’d teased him about that, too.

Crowley’s aforementioned statement turned out to be false; he hadn’t expected to see Aziraphale, but when he set foot in the pub that evening to find the angel waiting for him, it was definitely something close to need. Godawful hope ruining his stony front yet again.

He should’ve picked a different pub. He should’ve started drinking earlier. He was too sober for another argument. And damn it all, he should’ve left London last night, but he couldn’t. Not when the angel would’ve turned himself in, the absolute martyr. Could give Her son a run for His money.

Of course, Crowley couldn’t step in for Him, but he could do something about the angel. He’d be damned (again) before he let Aziraphale ridiculously, needlessly, discorporate himself. Even if he was mad.

Once Crowley begrudgingly made his way to their table, and let it be known the idea of hightailing it out of the establishment did cross his mind, Aziraphale wasted no time asking the question awaiting its exhaled release.

“What did you do?”

Crowley practically fell into his seat. “Can I get drunk first?”

Aziraphale shook his head incredulously but didn’t stop Crowley from ordering a dram of whiskey. “I went by the Beckford estate this morning to speak to Catherine—to confess to her husband,” Aziraphale said, “and she told me the strangest thing.”

Crowley threw back his drink and willed the alcohol to kick in sooner.

“She said the accusation of adultery wouldn’t hold up in court because, miraculously, no record of her marriage to a Mr. Henry Beckford existed.”

“Well, you know the courts,” said Crowley. “Dreadfully hesitant to rule irrevocable punishment without proof. Funny isn’t it, how most marriages in England are unregistered?”

“Crowley.”

He aimed for indifference— “I do believe I fixed your problem” —and landed somewhere between smug and stressed.

Aziraphale’s expression softened. Crowley debated a refill.

“Don’t,” the demon said. “I performed a slew of demonic miracles last night. Can’t be held responsible for what I may or may not have miracled. Did you know they were out of whiskey here?” He waved his cup in distracted demonstration. “Restocked the whole town.”

Like the prior night, the pub was relatively vacant. An absence of clinking silverware and subdued tavern talk saddled the air with uncomfortable tension.

For Crowley, anyhow. Aziraphale seemed content to tough it out.

“Ok,” Crowley conceded impatiently, “so I made a couple documents disappear. Big deal. Call it wily, angel. Were you or were you not on your way to untimely discorporation?”

Aziraphale looked relieved and somehow even more guilty. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “Thank you.”

Politeness was second nature for an angel, but they both grasped the absurdity of it directed at a demon.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Crowley corrected. “‘M a demon. Can do whatever I want.” He pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose for good measure. “You think I haven’t been twisting the fine print of that law since they wrote it? I was the one who added the bloody clause about not including women whose husbands were absent for three or more years. They wanted to start chopping off heads left and right.”

As if Aziraphale encountered a new version of Crowley every time he opened his mouth, the angel looked on the cusp of several routes to take. Crowley almost wanted the angel to pick up where he left last night, call him a snake, and remind him how foolish this entire arrangement had been. Not the Arrangement, but the messy web spun full of unspoken-rules and uncrossable-lines. Though he’d been privy to their creation and placement, Crowley was prone to forgetting the location of these silk strand glue droplets and stepping on them like landmines, unraveling the whole thing. He could never seem to find his footing without setting off explosive repercussions.

Crowley wasn’t sure if he was a spider caught in a web of its own making, or a fly in Aziraphale’s.

“I’m sorry, Crowley.”

Perhaps it was the famine of the word that made Crowley go slack, but the apology dropped into the pit of his stomach and rubbed in the starvation he’d so skillfully ignored.

“I shouldn’t have assumed you were behind the act,” Aziraphale said. “I actually, uh, checked in with Gabriel and the others.” Crowley raised an eyebrow, and Aziraphale cast his gaze on the ground. “Turns out they sanctioned it. For the noble cause of Puritanism.”

“I take it they were also fans of putting a pause on ‘lascivious mirth and levity’?”

Aziraphale pulled a face. “They see value in banning the plays as well, yes.”

“Yeah, well, for what it’s worth,” Crowley said, words slightly bitter with a burned edge, probably from the whiskey, “Hell enjoys the blatant sexism of the Adultery Act, too.” He tilted his cup and watched the last few drops pool to one side of the bottom. “Heaven. Hell. Two sides of the same coin.”

If Aziraphale disagreed, he held his tongue, opting for a pinched expression of pain or worry that Crowley figured was due to something more. “But I should’ve— Hell is one thing,” Aziraphale huffed. “What I’m trying to say is I know you.”

You do not know me, a faint memory of Crowley’s objected. Something doused in suspicion, mixed with a hint of a challenge, and drowned out by bleating goats. Something he would’ve said back then, and something he couldn’t bring himself to say now.

“Do you?” he asked. Because it wasn’t total denial, and temptation did happen to be his job, and maybe he just wanted to feel less unknown.

Aziraphale looked at him, saw straight through the act, and with such conviction, spoke more words than what he actually said.

“Yes.”

Crowley stared back, as though Aziraphale might rescind his statement, but the angel’s determination never faltered. Upstairs and Downstairs might read it as Yes, I know you well enough to thwart any wiles you may throw my way. But Crowley, well-versed in silent tongues, saw it for what it was:

Yes, I know you’re doing this on purpose. Asking questions to see if they’ll get you in trouble once more because everything is a test of faith with us, isn’t it? I know you miss the unicorns. I know you have a tendency to criticize living things—those poor, terrified plants—but you like to see them grow anyhow. I know you in spite of whatever lead balloon comes crashing down, and yes, I know you well enough to also know the Serpent of Eden was just as shy as he was sly. Because I was there.

If the public ever found out that Crowley could never stay mad at Aziraphale for long, it would surely ruin his demonic reputation. He hummed in thoughtful acceptance.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said again.

Though he wasn’t mad, he could still make the angel squirm. “Did you want me to forgive you?” Crowley mimicked in his best posh accent.

Aziraphale cringed. “I suppose that would be nice, yes,” he said, equal parts hopeful and sheepish.

“Demon. Not nice,” Crowley growled, this time setting his glass down to point a finger between the two of them. “And forgiveness from me would just cancel out or something.”

Aziraphale considered this, shoulders sagging and hands unsure of what else to do other than grab onto each other. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but the disappointment bled right through.

A merciful demon? No, Crowley just couldn’t stand to see Aziraphale sad for very long either.

“I’ll tell you what you could do, though,” he said.

Aziraphale perked up.

“Dance.”

A furrowed brow lifted into pink surprise as the angel tilted his head. “Uh, with you?”

Yes. “No,” Crowley said a bit too fast. “Give us a little jig, y’know, a song and dance. You like the theater. They say emotion is best expressed through art.” He attempted to reason his way out of this one. “Show me how sorry you are, angel.”

“I…don’t dance.”

“And I’m not nice,” Crowley said, but he was smiling now. “Unorthodox apology for unorthodox forgiveness sounds like a fair trade to me.”

A beat passed between them, and Crowley almost thought Aziraphale wouldn’t do it. He wasn’t exactly serious about it either; it was just the first thing that popped into his head and out of his mouth.

But then Aziraphale stopped chewing on his lip, made a decisive noise, and stood up from the table. Crowley’s speechlessness was remedied only by the screaming voice in his head that this might be the best accidental idea he’d ever had.

Aziraphale took a small step backward, looking over his shoulder once before realizing he’d rather not make eye contact with anyone, which was an unheard prayer because Crowley slid his glasses down far enough to peer over them, settling yellow eyes right on him.

“Go on,” said Crowley. “Really sell it.”

Aziraphale shook his head at the demon, but took a deep breath to fuel his singsong tone.

One hand on his hip, the other palm up, “You were right,” both arms outstretched, “you were right,” a graceless spin, “I was wrong,” and a clumsy curtsy to top it all off, “you were right.”

Aziraphale lifted his chin but stayed stiff in his pose, waiting for approval.

A dancing angel, Crowley figured, would be something along the lines of embarrassing. Like watching a child try to take its first steps. The never-before-seen aspect completely captivated him, and it suddenly hit him that this was for his eyes only. It was embarrassingly silly. Turns out, silly really does it for him.

Or maybe that was just Aziraphale.

“Right, then.” Crowley nodded with a coughed-out laugh. “That’ll do it.”

“Oh, good,” Aziraphale exhaled in exhausted relief and straightened finally. He plopped back down into his seat with a forest fire ravaging his cheeks. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine, I assure you,” Crowley practically purred.

Aziraphale’s frown failed to be anything less than fond, and then switched to contemplative. The blush didn’t seem to be dying down anytime soon. Not that Crowley was complaining, but he grew more concerned with each shade of red that he’d have to find a water bucket to cool the angel off.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “It’s certainly not an excuse for blaming you, and obviously I know you didn’t do it,” Aziraphale said, “but truthfully, I just figured you would’ve had something to do with a law dealing with lust.”

Crowley squinted at him from behind his glasses.

Aziraphale fretted in the silence, then tried to clarify, “Adultery is often associated with lust, as I understand it.”

“Aziraphale,” began Crowley, and he couldn’t believe he was about to say this, “I’m not an incubus.”

“Of course, I know that,” Aziraphale said hurriedly. “I just thought because you’re so…you know. I thought—” He gestured to all of Crowley, wildly searching for the correct term. “You and lust,” he said, like it was clear as day.

The pieces weren’t clicking. Crowley let out a punched, “Wot?”

“Nevermind it,” Aziraphale said, waving off the conversation. “It’s over now. I appreciate what you did, despite what I said that night.”

Crowley grunted, positive his face was just as flushed now. “Would’ve been unfortunate if that Thomas lad got dragged into something he wasn’t involved in, let alone sentenced for it.”

“Ah, yes, well,” and Aziraphale spoke the next part very slowly, “they are in love.”

“Who?”

“Thomas and Catherine.”

“But I thought—”

“Yes, I know you organized the document mishap,” Aziraphale said, raising his eyebrows in a little nod that usually meant Crowley was supposed to listen carefully, “but a nonexistent marriage might as well be the case. Catherine was so unhappy—had been for a long while. Frankly, I was surprised her husband made such an outburst, especially considering the rumors of his own infidelity.” He looked as though he wanted to say more about Mr. Beckford’s trysts, but did not. “During my conversation with Catherine, we discussed the theater, but she also confessed she’d fallen in love with Sir Thomas. Nothing like an arrangement— I mean, her arranged marriage. Something real, Crowley. But she was afraid of what might happen. The Adultery Act was the reason they never… Thomas isn’t a liar. Catherine wouldn’t lay with him because she couldn’t bring herself to condemn them both, I suppose.” Aziraphale paused, suddenly remembering himself, then added, “At least, that’s what she told me.”

Crowley was silent. The risk of spouting idiocy, loaded like bullets on his tongue, waiting for the slightest tremble to set off his hair-trigger self-control—that was too much, even though he was fairly certain the alcohol hadn’t taken effect yet.

Did she want to though?

I think I’ve heard this story before.

Oh, now you’re not even trying, angel.

You know I’m already condemned.

So he clamped his mouth shut because the recoil would’ve sent him reeling, and it could only ever end in someone bleeding out.

“Well,” Crowley said, “drink, then?” Before Aziraphale could even nod in agreement, the demon was already in the process of flagging down the tavern keeper. “What’d you have last night, angel?”

Aziraphale broke into a grin. “You drank mine, and you didn’t even know what it was?”

“Obviously wasn’t whiskey,” Crowley grumbled, but he was immensely glad to hear the angel laugh.

Don’t stare too long. There’ll be stars in his eyes when he opens them.

But Crowley was not a saint by any means; he couldn’t deny himself the view. And there were. Stars. A twinkle in shining blue that sent a thrill up Crowley’s spine. A relic of a past life and what it meant to create entire galaxies all wrapped up in a celestial being’s eyes.

“Cider, dear,” Aziraphale said. “I thought you would’ve known.”

Crowley could’ve sworn he was going blind as the angel had the audacity to fucking beam.

“There’s just something so remarkably alluring about apples, wouldn’t you say?”

*****

i now know too much about the Adultery Act of 1650, theater terminology, the Little Ice Age and alcoholic cider, 17th century lighting and candle reflectors, and the Anglo-Scottish wars.

i’m not kidding, i watched an entire 30-minute YouTube video recapping the English Civil Wars.

well, there’s my take on 1650, hope i did it justice, and thanks for reading!

#good omens #good omens fic #writing #my fic #ineffable husbands #apology dance #i was wrong dance #1650 #kayjaye writes

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coleramse · 7 months ago

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the tortured poets department. songs one through five.

i was supposed to be sent away.

they forgot to come and get me.

i was a functioning alcoholic.

i hope you're okay.

you're the reason, and no one's here to blame.

what about your quiet treason?

we were forever running.

sometimes you ask about the weather.

your wife waters flowers.

i want to kill her/him.

all my mornings are monday stuck in endless februrary.

i took the miracle 'move on' drug. the effects were temporary.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

i touched you only for a fortnight.

but i touched you.

my husband is cheating.

i called you up, but you won't pick up.

i think some things i never say.

who uses typewriters anyway?

you're in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down the road.

i've seen this episode and still love the show.

who else decodes you?

who's gonna hold you, if not me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

i scratch your head, you fall asleep.

i've read this one where you come undone.

i chose this cyclone with you.

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

you told lucy you'd kill yourself if i ever leave.

i felt seen.

everyone we know understands why it's meant to be. because we're crazy.

that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

here we go again.

you should've seen him when he first got me.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys.

i'm the queen of sand castles he destroys.

it fit too right, puzzle pieces in the dead of night.

i should have known it was a matter of time.

there was a litany of reasons why we could've played for keeps this time.

i know i'm just repeating myself.

pull the string, and i'll tell you that he runs because he loves me.

he saw forever so he smashed it up.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

he was my best friend.

i felt more when we played pretend.

told me i'm better off. but i'm not.

tell me i was the chosen one.

showed me that this world is bigger than us, then sent me back where i came from.

for a moment i knew cosmic love.

now i'm down bad, crying at the gym.

everything comes out teenage petulance.

fuck it if i can't have him.

i might just die, it would make no difference.

fuck it if i can't have us.

i might just not get up.

i might stay down.

did you take all my old clothes?

that somehow seems so hollow now.

they'll say i'm nuts if i talk about the existence of you.

for a moment, i was heaven struck.

i loved your hostile take-overs.

how dare you say that it's-?

i'll build you a fort on some planet where they can all understand it.

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded?

fuck it, i was in love.

so fuck you, if i can't have us.

like i lost my twin.

i saw in my mind ferry lights through the mist.

i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift.

pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away.

my spine split from carrying us up the hell.

i stopped trying to make him laugh.

how much sad did you think i had in me?

so long, london.

you'll find someone.

i didn't opt in to be your odd man out.

i founded the club she's heard great things about.

i left all i knew.

you left me at the house by the heath.

i stopped cpr. after all, it's no use.

the spirit was gone.

i'm pissed off you let me give all that youth for free.

i'll find someone.

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

my friends said it isn't right to be scared.

every breath feels like the rarest air when you're not sure if he wants to be there.

how much tragedy did you think i had in me?

how long did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode?

how long did you think i'd go before i'd have to go be free?

you swore you loved me, but where were the clues?

i died on the altar waiting for the proof.

you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days.

i'm just getting color back into my face.

i'm just mad 'cause i loved this place for so long.

had a good run, a moment of warm sun.

i'm not the one.

two graves, one gun.

#rp meme #sentence starters #ask memes #rp memes #rp prompts #inbox memes #taylor swift memes

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bikananjarrus · 1 year ago

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remember that first laugh? (all it changed once i had that)

kanera week 2023: Day 1 — Pre-relationship

word count: ~1550

rating: T

note: this fic is a little silly, but i wanted to try for a more playful, fun tone, and had a lot of fun in doing so. it’s been a while since I’ve written kanera and I’ve missed them 🥹 enjoy!

(title taken from dermot kennedy’s song “Rome”)

~ Kanan wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t.

Surely if he repeated it enough times to himself, it would be true. It had to be true. Because if he really was jealous, that would mean he had feelings for Hera that he wasn’t supposed to. Which he definitely didn’t—

He sighed. He definitely did have feelings for her.

Elbows pressed firmly into the scuffed bar top, he twirled the straw from his alcohol-free drink between his fingers. He was at the far end of the curved bar counter, with a perfect view of the booth where Hera was chattering with the contact Fulcrum had put them in touch with.

The contact—Gill, a relatively handsome human man with dark blonde hair, clean shaven jaw, and dimpled chin—was smiling broadly. And Hera—dressed for the part in snug black pants, knee-high matching black boots, and a sequined long-sleeved purple top with matching scarf instead of her flight goggles—she was laughing. It certainly didn’t look like they were talking about coordinates for a massive drop of Imperial weapons, like they were supposed to be.

She’s just acting, Kanan told himself, just playing the part. That’s not her real laugh.

And he would know. Right?

In the last year they’d been working together, Hera had only graced him with her laughter a handful of times. He’d gotten plenty of smiles out of her, but getting her to laugh when she was all business most of the time was a harder feat.

And the first full laugh she ever gave him had knocked the breath right out of his lungs. He was positive he’d fallen in love right then and there.

So. He was sure that he’d seen her real laugh enough times to know this wasn’t it.

Gill touched her arm lightly, once, before pulling away. And Hera—damn good at her job—smiled a little more demurely and even batted her lashes a bit.

Kanan took a sip of his drink to hide his ever-growing frown.

It’s not like he and Hera were actually together. If she wanted to flirt with a contact, she absolutely should. She’d made it clear to Kanan from the beginning that she wasn’t looking for a relationship with him—they were partners. And he loved being her co-pilot; it was the most stable he’d felt in years and fighting back against the Empire felt damn good.

But as much as he tried to brush away any growing feelings, they just kept coming back twofold. He couldn’t help it. He was inexplicably drawn to her.

But he wouldn’t let his jealousy and general grumpiness at the situation ruin a perfectly good op. So he sat and sipped on his drink and tried to focus on the mission at hand.

His jealousy totally almost ruined a perfectly good op.

It wasn’t his fault—really. Gill was the one to blame for trying to shirk them out of the intel he owed them, and getting too handsy on top of it.

And Kanan, well, he’d just reacted.

After finishing a second drink—a much too sweet soda—they’d been getting close to their time limit on the deal, and there had still been no hand-off from Gill. The time limit was one that Hera and Kanan had set themselves, based off past experiences. With a contact like Gill, ninety minutes was usually a good average. Anything more and things tended to go wrong.

Lo and behold, over an hour into the meet, Kanan had noticed Hera starting to get agitated, anxious. Her shoulders had stiffened, and she’d leaned slightly out of Gill’s space. Her smile had all but disappeared.

And that’s when Gill had said he wasn’t going to give them the information.

Well, Kanan wasn’t exactly sure what he’d said. He couldn’t read lips. But that was the gist of it. He was sure that Gill probably asked for double, if not triple, the amount of credits promised to him in payment for the information.

And then he’d slid closer to Hera, closing that distance she’d put between them, and reaching an arm around her back. Hera, plenty able to take care of herself, slithered out of his grasp and told him off. Though her gaze was steely, Kanan couldn’t hear her across the crowded bar, which meant she wasn’t yelling. Still being as polite as possible to salvage the mission.

Kanan, on the other hand, was already standing and making his way through the throng of patrons towards their table.

Hera and Gill were standing too, by the time he got there.

He got close enough to hear Gill’s voice, as syrupy sweet as the soda Kanan had drunk, trying to placate Hera.

“I don’t think so,” Hera said in response. “I have the credits we agreed upon—they’re all yours for the intel you promised.”

Gill barely finished muttering Twi’lek insults under his breath and reaching, more aggressively, towards Hera, before Kanan’s fist was connecting with his jaw.

Things devolved from there. And by devolved he meant turned into a bar-brawl.

Over the years, he’d gotten awfully good at starting those. Probably not something to be too proud of, but he was grinning wildly anyway as he and Hera escaped the mess of fighting bodies.

Now, he and Hera had tucked themselves away into a tight alley between two apartment buildings. The Ghost was docked on the other side of town. They were making their way as quickly, but carefully, as possible back to the ship. They didn’t want Gill, or Stormtroopers, local security, or a belligerent bar patron to catch up to them.

Panting slightly from their mad dash away from the cantina, Hera leaned her head back against the alley wall. She tugged on the sleeves of the jacket he’d given her to cover up her more conspicuous sparkly top. “Well, that was a total bust. I’ll have to let Fulcrum know to be careful with Gill in the future.” Then, under her breath, she muttered, “Two-timing piece of Bantha shit.”

Kanan, leaning against the opposite wall, still no more than three feet from her, chuckled. “You’ve got that right.”

Hera’s eyes darted up to him, like she was surprised he heard her. Her cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed to be heard cursing. As if she hadn’t done it a million times before while working on the Ghost or while trying to plan an escape from situations like this one.

“Though,” Kanan continued, fighting back a triumphant smile, “you’re wrong about the other thing.”

“What?”

Rifling around in the pocket of his pants, he pulled out a small black box. “It wasn’t a total loss.” Hera’s mouth dropped at the sight of the datacube, and she grabbed it from his outstretched hand. He explained with a shrug, “Grabbed it off Gill in the scuffle.”

“Kanan,” was all she said, still holding the datacube like it was a precious jewel. Her face broke out into a wide smile, and his heart leaped at the sight of it. Then, earnestly, “Thank you.”

“‘Course.”

“And you’re all right?” Green eyes gave him a once over.

His jaw would probably have a bruise from the one lucky hit Gill got in. And his knuckles were a little sore from the punch he threw. But other than that he was fine.

“Not a scratch on me,” he declared.

Turning to take a look out the mouth of the alley, he was about to tell Hera the coast was clear when she made a sound behind him.

“Uh, Kanan?”

He twisted back towards her, and she had a hand covering her mouth, eyes bright with amusement. She swallowed, fighting back hard against the smile dancing on her lips. “Seems there was, uh, one casualty in that fight.”

He blinked at her, brows furrowing.

“Turn around,” Hera said, gaze dropping towards—his ass?

Confused, he pivoted, craning his neck and looking down.

There, almost glaringly bright in the dim light of the alley, was the fabric of his boxer briefs, visible through the tear in his pants. He remembered people tugging on his clothes, trying to haul him into the fight, as he’d shielded Hera on their way out of the cantina before. Someone had clearly gotten a good hold on his back pocket and—combined with clearly shoddy stitching—ripped the pocket half off his right cheek.

So that’s what that tearing sound had been earlier.

Now it was his turn to blush, cheeks heating instantaneously as he looked back at Hera. He pointed in the direction of his torn pants, voice as serious as he could muster. “You know my underwear are only pink because of those red towels you threw into the wash, right?”

Hera opened her mouth to say something—but then she just started laughing, doubling over with the force of it.

Kanan could only lean back against the wall and watch as she tried to cover it up with a hand, but she gave up after a moment as her laughter continued.

“I’m sorry, I—” she broke off into another peal of laughter. Her eyes were crinkled in delight, and he was pretty sure he saw moisture pricking at the corners of them, she was laughing so hard.

It was the most joyous thing he’d ever seen, the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

His laughter joined hers; and in that moment, Kanan didn’t care if they were found.

Because this laugh—even if she was laughing at him—was real. And it was all for him.

#i just think: they’re in love 💚#kaneraweek2023 #my writing #fanfic #kanera #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #swr #star wars rebels

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idealspawn · 1 year ago

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fuck. i feel so fucking bad. i hate how i sometimes shut down and cant communicate my thoughts right away. and i cant really even vocalize that i need time either. i just lose my voice and freeze. i made the guy feel uncomfortable i think. like he said everything is fine but like. like . like. he is confused but like like like like like its not like i wasnt ever planning on elaborating bc im actually really good at communicating i just like. am weird sometimes. and i told him that. and all is well but i feel so bad that i literally just said nothing when he tried to talk to me about it. he wanted to sleep w me and i was okay w it at first bc i want it too but i was high for the first time after like 2 months and literally so disoriented and i freaked out like i barely even recognized him, i was THAT high. and then just froze and shriveled and said nothing and kept repeating that i dont know anymore and cant explain it rn. he stopped immediately the moment he noticed sth was off and asked if i was uncomfortable and/or afraid of him as in nervous. and he tried to talk abt it even when we werent high anymore and he blamed himself a lot which is so sad bc thats not it and then tried to like i guess move slower and said its ok if im not ready but the next 2 days we were together i literally just said nothing when he tried to make advances or talk abt why both of us acted awk and i like just acted like nothing happened but like still made moves on him and was okay with like other stuff just not like sleep-sleep w him. i kept sending mixed signals. i also was like so weird and quiet in general the entire time i was w him and i said i was in an odd mood and he pinky promised it wont affect anything and that he likes multidimensional people and its okay that im diff sometimes. i drank alcohol the entire time i was there too and fuck. idk im just. so fucking weird. he said its ok he is nervous and scared too and like i just fucking said nothing i dont know whats my fucking problem. fuck. like it was actually really fun too most of the time. we did graffiti and looked at the stars when we were lying down in this tower near like mmmm a big beautiful singing stage (???) and smoked his last lucky cigarette and did fun stuff on playgrounds at night and the moon and the clouds were so beautiful. the clouds were exactly like in suzume when the sky collapsed. then we cooked together, it was so fun to shop together and then we watched moomins and it was actually really nice. i picked him a nickname by opening a book on a certain page number and picking a word blindly. and he read me the little prince in french bc we both know french too and its a sentimental book to him. he sang me songs and played the guitar. he also surprised me by playing one of "our" songs and i literally started to cry. and he altered these lyrics in this one song so it applied to us and it was so sweet. i wear oversized clothes and he put my sweatshirt on and i had his jean jacket and bracelet on the entire time. he looked so nice in my hoodie and he didnt want to take it off and kept hugging it. i think probably bc it smells like me. i said i came from the moon, that they switched me when i was 5. he said he isnt even from this solar system. it was cute. made me not feel insane lol. its just like.. im a literal idiot sometimes. he was supposed to come to my place today and he asked if its okay if he comes tomorrow bc he is very confused and scattered and slow today and i think its bc of me and i feel so bad. like its okay he comes later but i intended on explaining what happened w me to him today and i just want to fix everything fast and i dont want him to feel bad and fuck. i fucking dont know. i asked him if he is confused bc of me but he hasnt answered yet. i feel so fucking bad. like all is well he said that a million times but i just want to fix everything now and immediately but not over texts....

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josefavomjaaga · 1 year ago

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Soult’s plundering (part 1 of ?)

As so far I have been posting all the nice and kind things about marshal Soult … uh, yes. Those were the nice and kind things! … it’s about time we address the elephant in the room: the fact that Soult was considered one of the great plunderers among the marshals, together with Masséna.

Not even Nicole Gotteri in her biography denies that Soult was constantly trying to make money for himself, though she, and I think rightfully, points out that this was true for almost all of the marshals. It just does not get adressed in most other cases. As to Soult’s methods, I have the impression that he went about it in a very different – and more prudent - manner compared to people like Masséna, Ney or Mortier, who usually just demanded contributions from occupied towns and kept some of the extorted money for themselves. Only to be severely rebuked and punished whenever Napoleon felt like playing the generous ruler and defending the oppressed.

From what I have read so far, Soult did not overtly abuse the inhabitants of conquered countries. He abused the French army administration instead.

Already in Vienna in 1805, after the battle of Austerlitz, Austrian texts repeat that the French soldiers called marshal Soult greedy and the greatest plunderer.

To be noted: The French called him that.

Artillery officer Pion des Loches relates an incident that might explain how this worked. It involves a certain general Salligny (or Saligny), who during this campaign held the position of Soult’s chief-of-staff.

Setting out alone with colonel Demarçay on 28 Brumaire (19 November) for Unterwesternitz, I witnessed one of General Salligny's masterstrokes. [...] Towards midday, we arrived in a village where there was a castle of fairly good appearance and from which we saw carriages of wine being taken out by an officer to 5th Corps.

That would be Lannes’. Uh-hum. More reason for discord.

We entered and the intendant served us dinner. No sooner had we sat down to dinner when General Salligny entered with his entire staff; he reproaches in very harsh terms the colonel for having strayed from the army corps and asks the intendant what are these carriages of wine that he has met in the village; he has them detained under the pretext that Marshal Lannes cannot requisition provisions so close to the passage of Marshal Soult's army corps; he confiscates them for us, then sells them to the intendant, and we could distinctly hear the sound of coins being counted in the next room by one of the general's aides-de-camp.

During the five days that our march from Znaïm to Austerlitz lasted, General Salligny, at the head of his staff, requisitioned victuals from all the villages near which we passed, then sold them to the authorities who had supplied them, and one day the Vandamme division ran out of bread. I heard him accuse Salligny at the head of his division and even pass the blame on to Marshal Soult.

So, I guess the procedure is clear: requisition victuals for the soldiers, then sell those goods back and pocket the money.

To be fair, I am completely at a loss as to how the distribution of victuals in the French army worked (or rather: was supposed to work, as for the most time it seems to have not worked). The army was often spread out over huge distances. What happened if one unit managed to requisition large amounts of bread, or shoes, or alcohol? They could not share their booty with their comrades easily, even if they wanted to. Would the surplus then be sold to French army suppliers by one corps, in order to be sold to other corps by those? - In all seriousness, I do not know in how far selling (some of the) requisitioned goods may even have been part of standard procedure.

Selling them to the very people you had taken them from, however, and letting the soldiers starve, clearly was not. (It should also be added that, from what I have read, Soult usually was not known to be that careless towards the soldiers under his command.)

The incident of Vandamme – who, by the way, seems to have a long history of financial misappropriations himself, so he probably knew all the tricks - publicly accusing Saligny is well-documented, too. Gotteri cites some of the letter Soult wrote to Vandamme on that occasion in her book (I can try to find it and quote it if somebody’s interested).

Needless to say that general Saligny, for the campaign of 1805, is a key figure when it comes to financial shenanigans. He also seems to have been notoriously disliked by Soult’s aides, according to Petiet. After 1805, he will leave Soult’s service and enter that of … wait for it ... Joseph Bonaparte 😁. Who clearly appreciated guys with a knack for making money at least as much as Soult did. Saligny even received a title of nobility from Joseph and would later accompany him to Spain.

---

(Continued in Part 2)

#napoleon's marshals #jean de dieu soult #napoleon's generals #charles saligny de san germano #campaign of 1805 #third coalition war #marshals'n'money

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ofaflower · 5 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 - 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐓

The following are lyric based starters from Taylor Swift's eleventh studio album, The Tortured Poets Department (Standard Version). Mature subjects implied within, so please use with caution. Feel free to change pronoun usage as needed. Minor edits may appear to sound more natural for dialogue. Link to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘.

FORTNIGHT (FT. POST MALONE)

i was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me

i was a functioning alcoholic

nobody noticed my new aesthetic

all of this to say, i hope you're okay

you're the reason

no one here's to blame

what about your quiet treason?

we were forever

your wife waters flowers

i wanna kill her

i took the miracle move on drug, the effects were temporary

i love you, it's ruining my life

my husband is cheating, i wanna kill him

it won't start up

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

you left your typewriter at my apartment

straight from the tortured poets department

who uses typewriters anyway?

you're in self sabotage mode

i've seen this episode, still i love the show

who else decodes you?

who's gonna hold you like me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

you're not dylan thomas, i'm not patti smith

this ain't the chelsea hotel

we're modern idiots

nobody, no fucking body

i chose this cyclone with you

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me

you told lucy you'd kill yourself if i ever leave

i felt seen

everyone we know understands why we're meant to be - cause we're crazy

you took my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on - and that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding

MY BOY ONLY BREAKS HIS FAVOURITE TOYS

oh, here we go again...

the voices in his head called the rain to end our days of wild

you should've seen him when he first got me

my boy only breaks his favourite toys

i'm queen of sandcastles he destroys

i should've known it was a matter of time

there was a litany of reasons why we could've played for keeps this time

i know i'm just repeating myself

he runs because he loves me

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me

just say when, i'd play again

you were my best friend

you told me i'm better off, but i'm not

DOWN BAD

did you really beam me up, in a cloud of sparkling dust, just to do experiments on?

you told me i was the chosen one

you showed me this world was bigger than us, then sent me back where i came from

for a moment, i new cosmic love

fuck it if i can't have him

i might just die, it would make no difference

come back and pick me up

fuck it if i can't have us

i might just not get up, i might stay down bad

did you take all my old clothes?

my same old town, somehow feels so hollow now

they'll say i'm nuts if i talk about the existence of you

for a moment i was heaven struck

i loved your hostile takeovers

how can you say that it's over?

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

fuck it, i was in love

fuck you if i can't have us

SO LONG, LONDON

so long, london

i saw, in my mind, fairy lights through the mist

i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift

i pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

i stopped trying to make you laugh

how much sad did you think i had in me?

oh, the tragedy

you'll find someone

i didn't opt in to be your odd man out

i founded the club you've heard great things about

i left all i knew, then you left me at the house by the heath

i stopped cpr, after all it's no use

i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

i'll find someone

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it with my white knuckle iron grip holding tight to your quiet resentment

it isn't right to be scared everyday of a love affair

every breath feels like rarest air when you're unsure if he wants to be there

just how long did you think i'd go before i self-implode and have to go free?

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

i died on the alter waiting

you sacrificed us to the blue of your darkest days

i'm just getting colour back into my face

i'm just mad as hell cause i loved this place for so long

we had a good run

a moment of sun

i'm not the one

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

i forget how the west was won

i forget if this was ever fun

i just learned these people only raise you to cage you

what a mess

these people try and "save you", cause they hate you

they slammed the door on my whole world and the one thing i wanted

but daddy i love him

i'm having his baby - no i'm not, but you should see your faces

i'm having his baby

floor it through the fences

no, i'm not "coming to my senses"

i know he's crazy but he's the one i want

all my plans were laid

growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all

stay away from her

i'll tell you something right now, i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning

let me tell you about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace

i dont' cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing

god save the most judgmental creeps

you ain't gotta pray for me

fuck 'em - it's over

time, doesn't it give some perspective?

no, you can't come to the wedding

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

now pretty baby, i'm running back home to you

fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be to

he don't understand me

you were with me in dreams

it's gonna be alright, i did my time

i was handcuffed to the spell i was under

now i know better and i'll never lose my baby again

all those nights, you kept me going

you weaved me into all of your poems

no matter what i've done - it wouldn't matter away

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up now that i know what's at stake here

FLORIDA!!! (FEAT. FLORENCE + THE MACHINE)

you can beat the heat if you beat the charges too

they said i was cheat, so i guess it must be true

my friends all smell like weed or little babies

the city reeks of driving myself crazy

little did you know, your home's really only a town you're just a guest in

packed my life away just stay in a timeshare down in destin, florida

florida is one hell of a drug

florida will use you up

i got drunk and dared it wash me away

me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time

yes, i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine

all of my girls have got their lace and their crimes

your cheating husband disappeared?

well, no one asks any questions here

i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that'd ever been on my body where in my mind they sink into the swamp

is that a bad thing to say in a song?

i need to forget

take me to florida

i've got some regrets, i'll bury them in florida

tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable

at least the dolls were beautiful

fuck me up, florida

GUILTY AS SIN?

he sent me "downtown lights", i hadn't heard it in a while

my boredom's bone deep

this cage was once just fine

am i allowed to cry?

i dream of cracking locks and throwing my life to the wolves - or the ocean rocks

i'm seeing visions

am i bad or mad or wise?

what if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh, only in my mind?

oh, what a way to die

i keep recalling things we never did

how i long for our tryst

without ever touching your skin, how can i be guilty as sin?

i keep these longings locked in lowercase inside a vault

someone told me: there's no such thing as bad thoughts - only your actions talk

we've already done it in my head

if it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

my bedsheets were ablaze, i screamed your name

what if i roll the stone away?

they're gonna crucify me anyway?

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

if long suffering propriety is what they want from me, they don't know how you've haunted me so suddenly

i choose you and me, religiously

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?

the who's who of "who's that?" - is poised for the attack

my bare hands paved their path

you don't get to tell me about sad

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said

nothing makes me feel more alive

she'll leap from the gallows and levitate down our street

who's afraid of little old me?

the scandal was contained

the bullet had just grazed

at all costs, keep your good name

you don't get to tell me you feel bad

is it a wonder i broke? let's hear one more joke then we can all just laugh until i cry

i was tame, i was gentle til the circus life made me mean

don't you worry folks, we took out all her teeth

who's afraid of little old me? you should be

so tell me everything is not about me - but what if it is?

they say they didn't do it to hurt me - but what if they did?

i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

all your kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all say?

i'll sue you if you step on my lawn

i'm fearsome, and i'm wretched, and i'm wrong

i put narcotics into all of my songs, that's why you're still singing along

you lured me, you caged me, and you taught me

you caged me then called me crazy

i am what i am cause you trained me

who's afraid of me?

I CAN FIX HIM (NO REALLY, I CAN)

the jokes he told across the bar were revolting and way too loud

god help her

he's my man

but your good lord doesn't need to lift a finger

i can i fix him, no really - i can

the dopamine raced through his brain on a six-lane texas highway

i could see it from a mile away

you're a perfect case for my certain skill set

he had a halo of the highest grade

he just hadn't met me yet

i can fix him

only i can

good boy, that's right - come close

i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night

trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man

whoa, maybe i can't...

loml

who's gonna stop us from falling back into rekindled flames if we know the steps anyway?

we embroidered memories of my time away, stitching "we were just kids babe"

i don't mind, it takes time

thought that i was better safe than starry-eyed

i felt aglow like this - never before and never since

if you know it in one glimpses, it's legendary

you and i went from one kiss to getting married

you low down boy, you stand up guy

you told me i'm the love of your life about a million times

who's gonna tell me the truth when you blew in with the winds of fate, saying i had reformed you?

your impressionist paintings of us turned out to be fakes

well, you dragged me to hell too

a con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme

i felt a hole, like this - never before and ever since

what we thought was for all time, was temporary

mister "steal your girl, and make her cry"

you said i'm the love of your life

you shit talked me under tables, talking rings and talking cradles

i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all

are they second-hand embarrassed?

i can't get out of bed cause something counterfeit's dead

it was legendary

it was momentary

it was unnecessary

should've let us stay buried

what a valiant roar

what a bland goodbye

the coward claimed he was a lion

i'll never leave

never mind

i'll still see it til i die

you're the loss of my life

I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART

i can read your mind

she's having the time of her life

in her glittering prime the light refracts sequin stars off her silhouette every night

i can show you lies

i'm a real tough kid

i can handle my shit

they said "fake it til you make it", and i did

lights, camera, bitch, smile - even when you wanna die

he said he'd love me all his life - but that life was quite short

all the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting more

i can do it with a broken heart

i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday everyday

i'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague

i cry alot, but i am so productive - it's an art

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart

i can hold my breath, i've been doing it since you left

i'm sure i can pass this test

he said he'd love me for all time but that time was quite short

i'm miserable and nobody even knows!

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED

was any of it true?

gazing at me starry-eyed in your jehovah's witness suit, who the fuck was that guy?

he tried to buy some pills from a friend of friends of mine

they just ghosted you, now you know what it feels like

i don't even want you back, i just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal?

i don't miss what we had but could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?

you hung me on your wall, stacked me with your push pins where in public you showed me off - then sank to stoned oblivion

once your queen had come, you treat her like an also-ran

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

were you writing a book?

were you a sleeper cell spy?

in fifty years, will all this be declassified and you'll confess why you did it

good riddance

it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden

i would have died for your sins, instead i just died inside

you deserve prison but you won't get time

you'll slide into inboxes and slip through the bars

you crashed my party and your rental car

you said normal girls were boring, but you were gone by the morning

in plain sight you hid

you are what you did

i'll forget you but i'll never forgive the smallest man who ever lived

THE ALCHEMY

this happens once every few lifetimes

what if i told you i'm back?

the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that i ever had

i haven't come around in so long, but i'm coming back so strong

so when i touch down, call the amateurs and cut them from the team

ditch the clowns, get the crown

baby, i'm the one to beat

the sign on your heart says it's still reserved for me

honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

hey you, what if i told you we're cool? that child's play back in school is forgiven under my rule

i'm making a comeback to where i belong

these blokes warm the benches

we've been on a winning streak

he jokes that it's "heroin", but this time with an "E"

there's no chance try to beat the greatest in the league?

where's the trophy?

CLARA BOW

you look like clara bow in this light, remarkable

all your life, did you know you'd be picked, like a rose?

i'm not trying to exaggerate - but i think i might die if it happened to me

no one in my small town thought i'd see the lights of manhattan

this town is fake, but you're the real thing

a breath of fresh air through smoke rings

take the glory

give everything

promise to be dazzling

you look like stevie nicks in '75, the hair and lips

the crowd goes wild at your fingertips

i think i might if i made it

no one in my small town thought i'd meet these suits in L.A.

beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours demanding more

only when your girlish glow flickers just so, do they let you know

it's hell on earth to be heavenly

them's the breaks they don't come gently

you look like taylor swift in this light, we're loving it

you've got edge, she never did

the future's bright

dazzling

#🥀 》 MEMES.#🥀 》 specify muse.#🥀 》 MY CREATIONS.#long post cw

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peacesells-imbuying · 4 months ago

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Ice cream date confession (M. M Hanoi ROCKS)

first fic on here. Very long, sorry! Pic by me! Isn’t he so pretty? bonus towards the end -> masterlist

Everyone knew you had a huge crush on the leader singer and frontman of Hanoi Rocks. Hell even the fans knew and supported you both. So the boys had to do something about the two of you. But let's rewind on how it all started.

You and Micheal meet each other through Nasty. You both are good friends, meeting the boys of Hanoi Rocks it was fun. Crush for Micheal Monroe started. Who could blame you? He was so musically talented, you were so surprised how many instruments he could play and his singing was so amazing (in your opinion). His blonde messy hair and blue eyes enchanted you on accident.

It makes it even better that he could speak a different language!

You always wanted a significant other that could speak a whole other language because you could learn new things about the country and new words. It just kept getting better, you wanted to be with him so badly.

No way in hell were you actually going to say it out loud or confess to him. It would be sooo bad, you wouldn't survive.

It was your lucky day! The boys got your back. (Even though you didn't realize). You were hanging out with Micheal after a concert.

Now remember how I mentioned even the fans support you and Micheal? Well Sami, Razzle and Nasty talked to some fans and asked for advice which they gladly gave.

20 minutes later. They formulated the plan.

Step 1: ask for your favorite dessert or treat

Step 2: find available dates for you both

Step 3: talk to Micheal on taking you out as a "hang out" though it’s a date

"You got a favorite treat or dessert?" Nasty asked you as he sat down drinking a beer. "Hm yeah, ice cream. Why?" Nasty smirked happily knowing it was going to work out perfectly. "Oh, no reason." You confused and decided to not question. Later on Nasty told the boys and now they just need step 2 and 3 done.

It was a Monday, hot sunny day. Nothing was happening in the Hanoi Rocks house. You were with them as they had invited you earlier, you always went either way. Sami greeted you and walked you into the place handing you beverages. You happily sat down next to Razzle.

"Got any plans today?" Razzle asked as you sat next to him. You raised your eyebrow "no...why?" The boys were always up to something and you were on alert. "Okay, great! We know you like Mike-" you almost spat out your drink and immediately placed your hand over his mouth. "Shut up! Shut up!" Your face was slightly red and Micheal walked in living room but he didn't hear a word Razzle said.

The boys laughed with a smirk. "What's going on?" Mike smiled and sat next to Andy sharing his drink. "Oh, nothing," Sami chuckled "we just asked our dear friend if she had anything to do today-" You immediately interrupted. "Which I remember I do!" You stood up lightly kicking Sami. "Oh..well you just got here, why not stay for a bit?" Micheal frowns a bit. Tempted to cry and hug him but held back "well...you're right, I just got here. I'll use the bathroom. be right back." Razzle, Sami, Nasty and Andy all made eye contact smirking now they had a chance.

"Dude, take her out." Sami says to Mike, who is confused and questions. "What do you mean why? It's so obvious you like her." Nasty and Sami laughs while Razzle wraps his arm around his dear best friend Mike. Mike didn't deny his feelings for you and slightly blushed. "Alright, but where do I take her?" Razzle takes the alcohol from Mike, drinking it as Andy glares at him. "Ice cream. Take her to an ice cream shop." Nasty replies quickly. Mike nodded his head.

"Hey, do you want to go out?" Mike asks you. Calm down, calm down you repeated in your head "alright! Yeah I'm down." Mike smiles and grabs his key but you realized that none of the others were following you. "Huh? What about you guys?" Razzle chuckles, you were the right girl for Micheal. "Go ahead love! We're fine here." You smile and say a quiet thanks to them and leave with Mike. The boys high five each other and decided to celebrate.

You got a salted caramel ice cream flavor while Mike got a vanilla ice cream. It was pretty decent. "Thank you Mike, for paying and taking me out." You smiled hoping you didn't look stupid in front of your crush. "No need to thank me, I love doing this with you. We can do this more often, everyday if you like." His smile was so pretty and you just turned red. Was that a confession? No no dumbass. "I would love that haha..I have something to tell you-" "I like you too." You were NOT prepared. You were screaming inside and you giggled with your now burning face "Damn..." Mike smiles and you both walk hand in hand.

You both kissed each other for the first time ever. "This was the best day ever..thank you." You guys kissed again and finished the ice cream and drove back. "Anytime sweetheart" Mike chuckled.

BONUS 🍦

“sooooo.” Razzles smirks and the boys huddle around you. “So?” You asked resting your legs on his lap. “Come, on you know what Razzles mean.” Nasty groans annoyed at you. “Alright! Alright! Yeah…we’re together.” You blush and hide your face a bit. The boys cheer and laugh. “Ha! Told you our plan would work!” Sami makes a proud face. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Andy rolls his eyes.

just when you thought they would drop the conversation…

“Sooo have you guys fuc-“RAZZLE.”

hope u liked the bonus part lol

#micheal monroe #hanoi rocks #80s #glam metal #romance #fanfic #my story #writing #x reader #micheal monroe x reader #peacesells-imbuying writing

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pivotbitches · 10 months ago

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There’s so much going on. Thankfully, my one granddad is out of the hospital and looks so much better and sounds better and is walking better. But then last night my other granddad had some sort of episode with his hallucinations and he was yelling and accusing my grandma of things and knocking stuff off the table. My dad took him to the ER last night and he left against doc orders this morning but has been sleeping since then. I’m scared for my grandma. I hope it doesn’t happen again.

To add to that pain, KD called me. I don’t realize it was him at first. I forgot his voice. As soon as he said his name my heart dropped. And the more he kept talking the lower is got. He’s a full on alcoholic now. I hate how far gone he’s gotten with it. I hate that he’s blaming it on me breaking up with him. We only dated for a couple of months and I just, I want to ask how could it have affected him that much but I also understand because of Trey. I wonder if talking to Trey would give me that same understanding that I got from this conversation.

I’ve been judging KD so much because he still tries to contact me after all this time, but now I kind of see why. I wish I could’ve been more vulnerable and brave enough to explain what was happening in my head, to show my emotions more so that it wasn’t eating at him this whole time. I know I tried to and he was just stuck at the time. He thought I still loved Trey, even just thinking that makes my heart hurt.

It’s also weird that we remember things differently. KD said that I pushed him into the relationship, that he wanted to take things slow and I was pushing it. I didn’t remember that. To me it just happened naturally. I remember he came over the first night, the sex was good or good enough but it was kind of awkward socially. I think he went home pretty quick but then we started texting. And then it was like he was here almost every night and we actually had some chemistry. But he would also have weed or vodka or something and it would strike a nerve for me. It felt like I was back with Trey but only the bad part of Trey stood out and then over took the good of KD. Like it was all I could see. Trying to deal with that by myself was really hard. Like I don’t know if I told anybody about what was happening in my head, the comparisons it was making.

Then KD tried to give me his chain. We were waiting for our shakes at sonic and he handed it over for me to keep. I felt so panicked. Here I was having these thought about how they’re the same and how something bad, something earth shattering, was going to happen if I got too close, and KD is trying to give me his chain. A symbol of permanence. A symbol that I would be in a catastrophic situation on repeat forever as long as I was with him. I tried to play it off like I didn’t want to lose it or something and immediately his mood changed. I had broken his heart. I didn’t realize. He tried to play it off and said something that kind of hurt me but I don’t remember what. Then we drove back to his house in pretty much silence. After that, really before that, I had made my decision to end things. And honestly it was about me. I was already spiraling. I was in such a bad place ever since Trey really, and then I could tell it was getting worse again. But after KD I started therapy. That is why he was in my life. Not really even because of him but because of me. I needed and need to work on stuff. I still push people away when they get close. Idk why I do it. I really wish he could be sober though. I want to help him. But I’m afraid it’ll tear me down too.

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lillillian · 1 year ago

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"Hey, you can't blame it on me when you're so easy to hate." Lil wasn't used to the free praise he was practically handing over to her when she'd fought so hard to win it initially. It was as though once he'd admitted he liked her, the curtain came down to reveal his motives behind everything: what she'd thought was just fuel to the fire of competition was simply Dash playing catch-up. The snide comments she'd thought were genuine against her work or her team had simply been his way of flirting. It had become almost impossible to accept that any of it could be real when his words had completely changed their sentiment in a matter of weeks. Though she'd been anxious to cross the threshold into friendship before, Lil was now being shoved across the border of something more, and the mixture of the alcohol, Dash's compliments, and, unbeknownst to her, something extra in the punch were making the anxiety surrounding the shift all the more heightened.

"I never said you were perfect," she quipped almost instantly, the nerves she was harboring coming to light in defense. "I said the situation was perfect. Almost like this is too perfect." Lil kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the glass to shatter and reveal it all as smoke and mirrors Dash had created to get in her head. But, it still hadn't come, and the more she pushed him on it, the further he'd step away. There was still a small, tiny chance that this was real, and the more he spoke, the more attached Lil was becoming to the shot in the dark. There was only one real way to know, the kind of confirmation that only came with instinct and reaction that could give him away immediately, if this was all a farce. Before rationality could stop her, she leaned forward to kiss him--long enough to know if he'd return it, but short enough to save from embarrassment if he didn't. "Sorry if I wasn't supposed to--I guess I, um, just wanted to do that. You ... set the standard, I'm just trying to keep up," she repeated in his own words.

Dash wasn’t going to let himself get discouraged by his own admission, no matter how dumb it sounded. To him, it made sense for his immediate defense and competitiveness to get the better of him, especially when it came to Lil who clearly had the talent to back herself up. He shook his head as she disparaged her own efforts at her job, “I wouldn’t be trying so hard if you weren’t great at what you’re doing. You set the standard first, I’m just trying to keep up. I mean if it wasn’t for your team being so good I wouldn’t have to be so tough on my boys during practice. So if they end up hating me, I’ll have you to blame for that.” He playfully nudged Lil with a smile on his face that wasn’t out of mockery or mere teasing but out of unfeigned enjoyment of being around Lil.

A sucker for praise is exactly what Dash Parr is. He enjoyed the glory a bit too much given how his powers did a lot of the heavy lifting but still, he worked hard on other skills. Sure he was fast but he was limited, and he couldn’t help but feel like if more people knew about his powers maybe he’d finally be commended for the potential he actually had. Though he liked to take a compliment as is, he could recognize that it wasn’t usual for Lil to be doing this. In that sense, he knew he should be savoring the moment while it lasted without wanting to think too hard as to why it meant more coming from her. “The full name’s Dashiell, Dash is just a nickname.” Though he knew exactly what she meant he was still up for twisting her words around, “Thanks for saying I’m perfect, that means a lot.” Maybe it was because he was a bit more relaxed from the potion that he kept talking about his speed after always being told not to bring much attention to it. “No, they had no idea I’d be so fast, that just happened. I was told I was always running around as a baby, can’t imagine that being the best thing for a parent but I survived so it’s all good.”

#🦋 it was fun when we were young and now we're older ; threads #chat:dash

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years ago

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Idk if you’re requests are still open, but if they are I’d love an professor!Fem reader X Eddie. Maybe she’s his college professor in her late 20s/early 30s and he has a crush on her. I was listening to the song Let me love you down by Ready for the world and maybe something inspired by that, where he’s trying to prove that he can make her feel good and do what guys her age can do. I feel like all fics with age gaps are always Eddie being older and not the other way around!

warnings: smut (semi-public, rough, drunken sex lol), age gap (reader is older, doesn't say how much, and eddie is 20), hair pulling, spanking, degradation (but like, friendly playful degradation), alcohol consumption, reader is iconic ngl and eddie is a total beast in the best way

He was down so bad. Embarrassingly bad. Like, Hot for Teacher on repeat, imagining you every night, can’t focus in class, dreams of pencil skirts and button downs bad.

Seriously, Eddie was already struggling enough to keep his grades up; how a super-super senior ever got into college was beyond him, but it’s not like this was the finest establishment of higher education or anything… but you, you were the finest thing he’d ever seen.

Those tight skirts, the heels, the reading glasses, the slight sternness to your lecturing— it was all really doing it for him for some reason. Maybe it was some desire to reclaim all his issues with authority, take some of the power back, you know. Or, alternatively, give up all the power and let you do whatever you wanted to him… he wasn’t particularly picky in that regard.

Either way, he never learned anything in class; he was too busy staring, drooling, dreaming. You dropped the chalkboard eraser and bent over to pick it up, thank god this room had desks or someone might’ve seen him getting hard.

He wondered if you noticed him at all. Unfortunately, you probably did, but for all the wrong reasons: he was totally flunking. And whenever you asked him what part of the material was challenging for him, he couldn’t even answer— because blaming your hotness for his failure wasn’t exactly going to cut it.

Actually, he was thinking of you— of his total ineptitude in your class, of his massive crush on you, all of it— when he saw you that night. Maybe it was an amazing coincidence, or maybe it was sort of bound to happen when he spent as much time thinking about you as he did. Either way, he never expected to see you here, dressed like that.

This bar was the only metalhead spot in town, and the local talent wasn’t quite as good as Eddie remembered Corroded Coffin to be, but they were alright. Tonight was a band he’d never seen before called Gore Whore. With a name like that, they had to be pretty good.

So, yeah, he was expecting some decent music and a few drinks, not to see his professor rocking a very new vibe— black leather, messy eyeliner, but thankfully still with the same sexy glasses. Honestly, he had to fight off a semi just seeing you dressed like that…

Now he had to figure out if he should talk to you or not. He had to, right? But also, like, how?

Well, his first step was to chug down his current drink and then throw back another as quickly as he could: liquid courage, right?

His second step was to rub his clammy palms on his jeans until he decided it was the right time to approach you. He didn't want to wait until the band was playing because, if they were any good, they'd be way too loud to hold a conversation during their set. He kept putting it off out of nervousness until he saw musicians starting to plug instruments in and tune, and realized he would probably be too late if he waited any longer.

He finally convinced himself to saunter over to where you were standing, linger behind you creepily when you didn't see him, and clear his throat before breaking the silence.

“Hey, teach,” he greeted, hoping it wasn’t a terribly stupid opening line. You turned over your shoulder and took a second to recognize him before you smiled.

“Hey, Edward M…un—" you hesitated.

“Munson, yeah,” he grinned, “or just Eddie.”

“Munson!” you repeated. “For some reason I kept thinking ‘Munster’, I guess I’m showing my age a bit with that one…”

You don’t look your age at all, he wanted to say, but then he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or just some backwards way of calling you old— which you weren’t! But you were just a bit too old for him, from a societal acceptance standpoint, which was exactly what made it so tempting. “I, uh, didn’t expect to see you here,” he pointed out, motioning to the club.

“Well, I don’t come here a lot,” you admitted, “but I used to. You know, when I was a bit more young and rebellious like you.”

“You act like you’re a grandma or something,” he laughed, “you’re young, you know.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “I don’t come here a lot, is the point.”

“Why’d you come out tonight?” He wondered. “Is your, uh, boyfriend in the band or something?”

The way you raised your eyebrow at him made it clear his subtle probe wasn’t so subtle after all. “Gore Whore? It’s an all-female band…”

“O-oh, right…” he trailed off. “I mean, maybe your girlfriend’s in the band, I dunno, that’s cool too.”

You snorted a laugh and shook your head. “I don’t have time for any of that, Munson. Boyfriends or girlfriends.”

“What do you have time for?” he asked.

“I mean, I’ve got nowhere to be tonight,” you shrugged. “What did you have in mind?”

His heart raced. “I— I dunno, maybe you can’t do, like, dating or whatever, but maybe you’re into, perhaps… some ill-advised fooling around with your charming, boyish, young and rebellious student?��

You laughed again, but the look in your eye was promising. “Really swinging for the fences, huh?” you noticed.

“I’m, uh, pretty drunk, actually,” he admitted.

“Yeah? Me too,” you grinned. “My place or yours?”

He choked on his own throat. Did that actually just work? Or was he hallucinating somehow? "Uh, I mean, if you wanna be really ill-advised, my van's parked out back..."

The smile you gave him then was enough to make him weak in the knees. It was the same smile you were giving him as he laid back in the van and you kept going down, down, to the bulge under his belt.

"Fuck," he gasped as you got his jeans open, yanking them down his thighs enough to free his throbbing cock; your fingers were so soft on his silky, sensitive skin, and he admired the way you licked your lips as you stroked him. "You're so fuckin' hot. Fuck."

You looked at his face again, looking quite proud of yourself. "You thought about this, didn't you?" you noticed.

"This? No," he denied. "Fucking you in the classroom, or your office, in my dorm? I thought about that a lot."

You giggled slightly as you spit down onto his dick, slicking the movements of your hand which made him flex against it.

"But I never thought we'd end up in the back of my van behind the ba— oh, fuck!"

Your lips were around the head of his cock, and you'd already started bobbing your head and stroking the rest in rhythm. No teasing, no build-up, just getting right to it: it was so sexy to him, he could've melted right there. He nearly did; he tilted his head back with a groan, reaching up to hold the back of your head though he didn't push you down 'cause, you know, he's respectful and all that.

"Damn," he laughed thinly, though he knitted his eyebrows together and bit his lip a second later. "You— fuck, that's good, you're so— god, babydoll..."

You smiled slightly around him, pulling off with a gasp and stroking his spit-soaked cock in the meantime. "Better than the girls your age do it, huh?"

He nodded quickly, swallowing even though his mouth was suddenly dry. You bent back down and licked a long stripe up his cock, even lathing his balls with your tongue for a moment, before speaking again.

"What about you? Do you know how to fuck like a grown-up?" you taunted. "Or are you just an overgrown teenager like most twenty-year-old guys?"

He smiled a little, finally feeling like he knew how to handle you. "Oh, sweetheart— I can rock you better than anything you would've heard in there tonight. Promise."

"Promise?" you repeated teasingly. "Talk is cheap, big boy."

That it is; and he had a plan to shut you up. Shoving your head back down, he groaned as he slid his cock all the way to the back of your throat. "Fuck," he said again, louder, "there you go— I'll fuck you right, babydoll, but you gotta earn it first. Maybe it's my turn to teach you a few things, hm?"

When he gave you another break, you were still playing cocky with him. "Considering your grade in my class, Munson, I'm not sure I've been teaching you anything."

"Why don't you teach me what that shirt of yours looks like inside out?" he encouraged. Smiling proudly as you stripped yourself of the leather jacket and t-shirt, he palmed his own cock— slowly, careful not to get himself too worked up yet— and admired you. "Wanna show me that pussy, too? Been imagining it for a little too long, I think..."

You peeled your jeans off and he bared his teeth at the sight of your panties— black, lacy, everything he'd dreamt of since he first saw you.

"What are you wearing those for, babydoll?" he cooed, reaching out to run his fingers over the lace on your hip. "What did you come out here for tonight?"

"You know what I came here for," you challenged, "so are you gonna gimme it or not?"

Well, he was gonna do his best.

Only a little while later, he had you bent over the console with those panties around your knees, a fistful of your hair in his fingers, your ass bouncing on him with every thrust; he was fucking you hard and fast and mean, doing his best to make you regret questioning if he was old enough to do this right.

"S'that how you like it?" he taunted. "You just need to get treated like a dirty whore, don't you? Tired of all the authority, just wanna keep your legs open for somebody, be their little slut for the night?"

"Yes," you sobbed, clinging tighter onto the console with a whimper. "Yes, Eddie, fuck... fuck me like that, just like that."

He gave your ass a hard spank with his free hand, loving the way you tightened up on him and moaned so loud from the pain. "Beg me to hit you more," he instructed.

"Spank me again, please, Eddie," you whined, getting another few hits on your stinging ass as your reward. "Fuck! Fuck, so good..."

He gripped your hips to keep you still and drive himself deeper than he thought possible, and you yelped as your toes curled and your legs kicked. One of your hands reached back instinctively and tried to grab at his hip, keep him from going too far into you, but you were a little too weak to have any real impact on him. "No no," he scolded, "I'm just giving you what you wanted, babydoll. Giving you all this dick— fuck, take all this dick, whore."

Whining and hiding your face under your arms, you tried to arch your back up before he shoved it back down with his hand to keep your ass nice and on display for him, groaning with pride. "Fuck, Eddie!"

"Isn't this what you came here for?" he smirked, grinding his cock deep inside you as you squirmed. "Got all dressed up in your little black panties, took yourself out to the club so some stranger could treat you like this?"

Though your face was still hidden, you nodded.

"Guess I really do need to teach you a few things, sweetheart," he announced proudly. "Like what happens when you tell a guy to fuck you like a grown-up. Now hold on tight, babydoll, m'gonna make sure you don't forget me too quick— you're gonna feel this tomorrow when you're teaching my class."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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once-upon-a-thigh · 3 years ago

Text

The Widow's pet

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped by a gang of mobsters, although it is not quite the nightmare you would expect. AU. 18+.

Pairings: Mobster! Natasha Romanoff X Fem! Submissive! Reader Insinuation of other Mobster! female marvel characters X Reader.

Class: One-shot? Series? TBD; dark, angst, smut, teeny weeny bit of fluff.

Warnings: VERY DARK, dub-con, pet play, mommy kink, gun play, knife play, mentions of branding, breath play, pain, fingering (r receiving), strap-on sex (r receiving), oral sex with strap-on (r giving), degradation, alcohol, swearing, mention of drugs.

Words: 4.3k

I sighed, swiping the sweat coating my forehead with the back of my hand as I wiped down the bar. My night bartending at Stark's was about halfway through and as busy as ever. The crowd bustled and and laughed noisily, drowning their sorrows in overpriced vodka and rum. I was just about to approach a customer who had been flagging me down at the end of the bar, when the crowd had suddenly became startlingly quiet.

Glancing up, curious of the disruption, I almost dropped the rag I was holding in my hands at the sight of who had just walked in.

Natasha Romanoff sauntered in to the vicinity, followed by her gang of Widows, sporting similar black and leather attire. She looked around lazily, eyeing a few customers that have given her trouble in the past. At their presence, the customer I was about to serve hastily left the premises as well as multiple others. The group took the place at a large table that had been abandoned. I don't blame the people for leaving, everyone in the city knows what the gang get up to. The Widows own an infamous drug cartel and have control over basically the entire city, cops included. They didn't bother to hide the weapons lining their hips as they shred off their jackets, hanging the leather on the back of their chairs.

Those who were brave enough to stay kept their heads ducked, merely exchanging nervous glances with each other as they sipped from their glasses. In order to break the tension a little, I turned up the background music slightly at the wall. Luckily, this encouraged a few patrons to start up quiet conversations.

Gulping down the anxious gasps of breath rising in my throat, I approached their table with wobbly legs. Their whispered conversation halted as I leant over the table to pick up the half-drunk glasses the previous patrons left behind. I tried my best to focus on the task at hand, however it was difficult when I could practically feel the burning of their gazes all over my body. Boldly, I glanced up at the terrifying redhead in front of me, just fast enough to notice her eyes flicker from the cleavage displayed with my top two buttons being undone. Well I've got to get good tips somehow.

They switched to my eyes, and my mouth went dry as I peered into the forest green. There was something dark behind them, evil, almost. I wanted to kick myself when the first thought that came to my mind wasn't how awful this woman is, but how undeniably sexy I found her.

After grabbing hold of the glass in front of her, I turned to leave. However, I was forced to freeze in place when a hand caught my lingering arm in a tight grip. My body instantly went cold, running from the icy temperature of her rings. Turning around slowly, I nervously faced Natasha again.

"Bring me a double bourbon, rum and cokes for Kate and Yelena, vodka and cranberries for Carol and Maria, and a large red wine for Wanda would you sweetheart?" She spat out her order without a pause, as if testing me. I repeated the order in my head over and over again, who knows what the punishment would be if I fucked up.

I simply nodded before turning to leave, although her grip didn't lessen.

"Look at me." I did.

"Use your words, kitten." Oh, fuck.

"Yes ma'am." I said, careful as to not let my voice waiver.

After my response, she gave me a sinister smirk before finally letting go of my wrist.

When making the drinks with more precision than I ever have before, I still felt her grip on my wrist. The feeling spread white hot heat through me now that I have escaped, replacing the coldness. When I brought the drinks back over, I took the time to memorise who was who. However, despite all of them staring at me with only what could be described as hunger, none of them stuck out more than their leader.

"How about you sit with us, sweetheart?" The redhead asked. Although her tone made it sound more like a demand.

"Um, I- I can't, I'm the only bartender tonight." I stuttered. For some reason, saying no to her did not feel natural to me at all.

Her smirk dropped, her expression turning to steel. "Get your boss."

"What-"

"I said-" She leant forward, "Get. Your. Boss."

I scurried away to the office behind the bar, knocking furiously.

"Alright! Alright, come in!" At the sound of Tony's voice, I let out a sigh of relief. Bursting through the door I instantly let out a whiny rant of everything that just went down, however through my desperate gasps in an attempt to stop tears from rising to my eyes, the only legible words said are "Widows....bar....Romanoff....me.....you!"

Standing up from his chair, Tony settled me with his palms on my shoulders. "Woah, kid. Breathe. In and out come on." I breathed in and out slowly, following his instructions with gaping eyes looking into his concerned ones. Once my breathing became some what regular, he calmly asked me what was wrong.

Taking one last deep breath, I explained. "The Widows are in the bar, Natasha Romanoff asked me to sit with them but I said I couldn't because I was working and now she wants to speak to you."

With a groan, he ran his hands down his face. "Fuck kid, what have you gotten me into?"

"Well it's not my fault!" I cried.

"Okay, okay chill. Lets go see what they want."

When we walked back out, I hung back behind the bar and observed as Tony approached the intimidating woman. Despite talking directly to him, she kept her threatening gaze locked with my nervous one. I couldn't here what she was saying to him, however by judging by the way all the colour drained from Tony's face, I can assume it wasn't good.

After an extremely short conversation, Tony came back to the bar. Without even looking at me, he picked up an already clean glass and began to wipe the inside of it with a rag. "Go sit with them, I'll take over."

"What? Tony-"

"Please Y/n!" He gritted through his teeth. Tony was not easily bossed around, and so I can only guess what he was threatened with for him to become such a wimp.

Shaking my hands in an attempt to release the building tension rising in me at the thought of what is about to happen, I slowly make my way towards the table. I kept my head down, embarrassed of the sympathetic looks I am getting from other customers as well as the devious grins Natasha's loyal followers are shooting my way.

I take hold of the back of the only spare chair at the table, the one between who I have discovered to be Yelena and Carol. Before I can pull it back from the table, her sultry voice interrupts me.

"Not there dorogoy."

Looking up at her confused, the question rising from my throat turns into a pathetic whimper when I see she has already pulled back from the table, tapping her thigh. I hear Carol let out a chuckle, most likely in relation to the sound that escaped my lips.

Heat rises to my cheeks, but I make my way to her anyway, shame dripping with every step. When I get close, she gives me no time to take a seat at my own pace and instead wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me down so I am flush against her, braced on one of her thighs with my legs between her own. In this position, my cheek is leaning in to the side of her neck. My senses have gone haywire, all I am aware of is her hand on my waist, the other gripping my bare thigh, the smell of her jasmine perfume, the sound of her taking a whiff of my hair and the moan that follows. Despite this being an incredibly dangerous situation, I strangely find comfort in this position.

"Well isn't that just adorable?" Coos a raspy voice from the table, Wanda I believe.

Natasha looks down at me condescendingly. "That's a good pet. Now how about you stay a good girl for mommy and keep quiet whilst the adults talk, hm?"

I am an adult you cheeky fuck. Wait, mommy?

The name she has given herself only increases the heat in my cheeks, as well as the heat somewhere else. With building shyness, I only manage to nod. However, when she shoots me a startling look, I remember the order she made earlier.

"Yes mommy." The name falls so easily from my lips I barely caught what I said. Where the fuck did that come from?

Seemingly impressed with my response, she grinned and removed her hand from my thigh momentarily to pinch my already red cheek.

For the next hour, I sit there quietly with my cheek flushed against her warm neck. Despite the women conversing over plans to expand their drug dealing territory to the next town over, I have never felt more comfortable. In my relaxed state, I struggle to keep my eyes open. Feeling the fluttering of my lashes against her skin, Natasha pauses her speech to glance down at me and tutted.

"Looks like babygirl is tired ladies. Go home darling, I'll come get you later."

I didn't register that last bit, instead I grumpily pried myself from her arms, walking off to the back whilst rubbing my eyes tiredly. As I stood from her lap, I felt the hand that was previously around my waist graze down my back and gently push my ass forward.

After gathering my stuff and beginning my walk home, the daze I had been under gradually disappeared. What the fuck just happened? Why was I so comfortable in that criminals lap, and why do I want to be there again?

Eventually I arrived home. I took the time to have a steaming hot shower and attempted to scrub off the guilt of enjoying her touch. After changing into some baby pink short pyjamas, I climbed into bed with my hair still wet and fell asleep peacefully with the knowledge that the Widows will most likely move onto another bar soon, and I will never have to look into those dark forest eyes again.

---------------------------------------------------

I awoke from my slumber with an ache at the base of my neck, slumped forward at an uncomfortable angle. Looking around in the pitch black, I realised the glow of my bedside clock is missing. I went to reach over to feel for it, only to find I was restricted. My first reaction was to panic, squirming around in an attempt to free my wrists that were bound to something behind me. I felt wood and rope rub against my legs too, leading me to the conclusion that I was tied down to a wooden chair. Releasing panicking gasps, I felt my warm breath hit back into my face. I had a bag over my head. The air became hot and I found myself struggling to breathe, crying as I shook my seat with powerful thrusts of my shoulders.

"Sh, shh, doragoy. Relax." That recognisable voice whispered against where my ear should be from outside burlap sack, she reached her hand around my neck, grasping at the front of my throat and tipping my head back onto her shoulder.

"N-Natasha?" I whimpered, salty tears dripping over my lips.

"That's not my name pet." She tightened her grip.

Wheezing, I managed to let a plea escape my mouth. "Mommy, please..."

Standing back up with a sly chuckle, she released my neck. "I knew you were special." I felt her fingertips brush through my hair as her voice moved around me, giving away her movements.

She circled around in front of me, I felt short manicured nails scratch up my revealing thighs, gently pushing the flimsy material of my shorts up to my hips and most likely revealing the lack of panties I am wearing underneath. The sound of a quiet groan reaches my ears, she is crouched in front of me now.

"What do you want?" I cry, shivers raking down my spine at the feeling of her kneeling between my legs.

"Enough whining little one." She presses an open mouth kiss to my knee, her teeth grazing me harshly. "I just want to play. Don't you want mommy to play with you?"

I whimper as flashes of fantasies roll through my mind, sinful ideas of what play time would entail with such a monster. Despite the utter disgust I feel of myself, I cannot help the gush of arousal that begins to pool out of me. I grit my teeth in frustration when I am unable to close my legs in an attempt to hide my pleasure. "No."

In an immediate response to my rejection, though I am not sure I believe it myself, the sack is immediately ripped off of my head. I clench my eyes shut, doing my best to shield my eyes from the sharp light hanging above my head. She gripped my cheeks harshly, leaning forward to the point where I could feel her furious pants against my lips. Slowly opening my eyes to adjust to the light, I am met with those intimidating eyes again.

"No? I don't think you have much of a choice kitten. After all, you are mine now." She takes hold of my plump bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it back as I let out a squeal. She lets it go with a pop, smirking at the tears that continue to roll down my cheeks. "What do you think girls, should we keep her?"

It is only then I notice the group of women I had previously encountered standing behind her, some leaning against the concrete wall, others leaning forward with their hands on their knees in fascination.

"Oh please Natasha! I've always wanted a pet." Yelena pleads, her eyes swirling with lust and raking over my body.

Natasha tutted, turning her attention back to me and running her hands down my arms, ignoring the goose bumps that followed her touch. "She wouldn't be yours sestra. She's mine. But if she is being a naughty girl, I suppose I could let you have your fun." She grinned at me devilishly. I began to sob at the thought of being passed around these women like an object. Sobs of terror, not delight, right?

"Shh baby, no more crying." Natasha stood back up and leant over me, cupping my cheeks. "Aren't you just the prettiest girl ever?"

I flushed at the compliment, the heat growing when she leant down and began to seductively lick the tear stains from my cheeks. This time, I couldn't keep a quiet moan from escaping my throat. When she pulls away, she makes her way around the back of my chair, hands bracing on my shoulders.

"Now, here is what is going to happen. I'm going to untie you, and then you're going to take everything I give you like a good slut. If I decide you've been a good girl, then you can stay here with me. If not, well, lets just say the only way you will be leaving is in a a body bag. Understood?"

My mind froze at the threat. Is she suggesting what I think she is suggesting? Either I stay in this place and let this woman do whatever she wants with me, or I die. Simple as that. Disgustingly, I grow hot at the thought, waves of lust rushing through me from head to toe. An itch begins to fester under my skin that that I feel only she can sooth. I want this woman to ruin me. And so, with a bite of my lip, I nod my head. "Yes mommy."

I hear the others coo and murmur about how good I was, but I keep my head down, too embarrassed for them to see me so submissive.

"Leave." Natasha barks from behind me. I jump slightly in my chair, startled at her tone, but instantly relax when she sooths me with a pat on the head. I glance up to see the women straighten their backs and quiet instantly, before leaving the room and closing the steel door behind them with a creek.

My breath shakes as I hear the faint sound of metal sheathing, flinching slightly when soon after a cold surface is pressed against my shoulder.

"Such pretty, smooth skin." She whispers in my ear, trailing the knife down my arm slowly towards my bound wrists. "Can't wait to mark it baby. When you're all mine, I'm going to brand my initials into those beautiful thighs of yours." My breathing quickens. With a quick slash at the rope around my wrists, I let out a yelp at the release of tension.

I keep my wrists in place behind me, unsure if she wants me to move them. But she lifts them gently, placing a delicate kiss to each sore wrist before settling them in my lap.

She crouches in front of me next, making quick work at the ropes around my ankles. I can tell by her feral movements that she is getting desperate. Desperate, for me. The thought has me soaking my shorts, dripping onto the polished wood of the chair.

Throwing the knife to the side, I watch as she stands and makes her way to the door to lock it. She pauses for a moment, before turning back to me and leaning back against the metal.

"Come here." She demands, eyeing me suggestively.

I stand slowly, my knees feeling like they will buckle at any moment. Before I can even take a step forward, she hisses and lifts her hand in a 'stop' motion.

"Crawl."

I gulp at the instruction. But, not wanting to disappoint her, I sink down to the floor. I approach her on my hands and knees, the rough surface digging in to my palms and knees uncomfortably. When I reach her feet, I sit up and look at her with wide eyes expectantly, awaiting her next instruction.

She looks down at me, her eyes blown out and looking practically black. Her expression is dark and wanting. "Such a good kitten." She praises, gathering my hair into a ponytail and holding the bunch in one fist. With the other hand, she frantically begins to unbuckle her belt. I am shocked to see her pull out a large black strap from her briefs. "Suck."

Inching forward, I take the head of the faux cock between my lips and suck, swirling my tongue around the tip. She groaned at the sight, throwing her head back in delight before looking down at me again. I felt a pressure pushing at the back of me head, getting the message, I began to sink my head further down the cock, taking in as much as I could before I began to gag about halfway down. She didn't seem to like that though. With a forceful push at the back of my head and an aggressive buck of her hips, she forced the cock down my throat until my nose was smushed against her trouser buttons.

"That's right, take all of me." She moans, pulling at my ponytail until I am fully off her. I take a gasping breath, drool hanging out the corner of my lips. I didn't have much time to rest, before she was shoving the strap back in. She took hold of my head with both hands this time, and took initiative herself, thrusting the cock in and out of my throat at a brutal pace. She grinned down at me between pants of pleasure, enjoying the sound of my wet chokes and gags. She held me down at the base for a moment, tears began to fill my eyes as I struggled to take a breath. She rubbed her pelvis into me, blocking my attempt at breathing through my nose,. She ignored the slaps I gave her thighs in an attempt at pleading with her to let me go. Just as my chest began to ache at the loss of oxygen, she pushed me off of her.

I fell onto my back, mouth gaping as I attempted to catch my breath. In my breathless state, I hardly felt her as she began to strip me of the little clothing I had. Kneeling between my legs, she looked down at me lustfully as she groped every part of me she could, taking special interest in pinching the stiff peaks of my nipples. "Such a pretty girl."

Once I had caught my breath, she finally leant down and captured my lips with hers, kissing me with as much passion and aggression as she had displayed with the strap. Her tongue intruded, exploring every curve and crevice. Her hand trailed down my stomach, and she let out a deep moan into my mouth when she cupped my sopping sex.

"So wet for me baby, you want mommy to fill up your needy pussy don't you?" She stopped kissing me to taunt me, pouting condescendingly.

"Yes!" I squealed as she pushed two fingers into me in response, curling them to hit spots no one else has ever reached. My eyes began to roll to the back of my head as the pit in my stomach began to deepen, filling with lustful tension that desperately needed to be released. Before I could reach my high however, she pulled out and lay a harsh lap over my swollen clit.

Lifting her wet hand from between us, she pushed her fingers between my lips. I instantly took hold of her wrist, and sucked on her fingers coated in my juices, letting out a whimper as I tasted myself.

"Oh honey, you want something to suck on don't you?" I nodded pathetically. "You miss having my cock in your slutty mouth? Well I want to use it in another one of your fuck holes. So how about you take my glock instead?"

Before I could register what she meant, her fingers were replaced with cold metal clashing against my teeth. The metallic taste practically melted against my tongue. It was only when I saw her sinister grin I had noticed what it was. A gun. She is holding a loaded gun in my mouth.

Before I get the chance to push her away, I scream around the pistol as an even bigger intrusion makes its way into my cunt.

"Oh fuck baby you're so tight." She looks down at the action between us. "I can hardly fit." She groans.

She kisses my cheeks, smiling against my skin as tears begin to slip again. "Don't worry kitten, I'll make it fit."

Abruptly, she removes the gun from my mouth as well as the strap from my pussy, and turns me over onto my stomach. Lifting my hips with both hands, she pushes the cock all the way into me until I can feel the zipper of her trousers leaving indents on my ass. "Shit, you're so sexy."

I flop forward, another scream breaching my throat as she pulls back and lurches forward into me, again, and again. She pounds my back out to the point where my cheek is pressed against the cold concrete, grazing as I am shoved violently forwards with every rut. Pathetic whines and moans leave my lips, pitching at every point her clothed thighs meet my bare ones. I am totally exposed and at her will, and I fucking love it.

Looking over my shoulder, I admire as she clenches her jaw, sweat coating her face and neck. A vain on her forehead bulges as she snaps her hips, letting out vicious grunts with every thrust. Meeting my eyes, she smirks deliciously.

"Who does this pussy does this belong to my pet?" She pants, slapping my ass with an open palm.

"Yours mommy! It's your- oh fuck!- its your pussy!" I cry, struggling to keep my head up as I begin to reach my high for the second time.

"That's right." She mutters. "All mine."

Her pace quickens and her deep thrusts turn shallow. She leans over me, pressing her abdomen flush against my sweating back. I realise now at the feeling of her breasts pressing against me, that she had stripped off her shirt, as well as pulled down her trousers to her knees. She takes hold of my chin with one hand, turning me to face her so she can crash her lips against mine again. The kiss is sloppy as she grinds desperately against me, trying to reach her high at the same time I do.

"Cum when I tell you to." She demands. I whine, I don't know if I can hold my climax in much longer.

Her grunts turn into long, deep moans. Our kissing has halted. Instead, our lips stay pressed against each other, gaped open as we moaned into each others' mouths.

"Cum now, cum with me."

I screamed her name as I released the long awaited orgasm. The mix of our cum dripped down my pussy, covering my thighs and pooling on the concrete. Her hip movements slowed, now just slightly grinding into me, elongating the euphoria for the both of us.

She stayed lying on top of me, making no effort to remove the cock plugging my pussy.

"My perfect little cum dump." She whispered between kisses she was trailing up and down my neck. "I will definitely be keeping you."

The exhilaration of our time together overpowered the fleeting thoughts of the life I would be leaving behind, and at her words, I smiled.

#marvel #marvel smut #marvel women #the avengers #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #fanfic #mommy natasha #mob au #natasha x you #gxg #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic

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jungkxook · 4 years ago

Text

—pour up. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader x taehyung

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / fuckboy!taehyung + smut

⟶ words: 14,048 (idk how it’s literally just smut)

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: sleeping with both notorious frat boys kim taehyung and jeon jungkook doesn’t sound so bad ━ especially when you’re drunk and faded.

⟶ warnings: mentions of drug/alcohol use, essentially pwp lol, threesome, double penetration, voyeurism, messy rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dry humping, manhandling, doggy style, riding (sort of?), fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), face riding, face fucking, deepthroating, breast play, slight begging (mostly oc making jungkook beg hehe), brief name calling, dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: this is a repost of a fic from my old blog! also shout out to miss jlin @bratkook for being the sweetest and for liking this trashy fic of mine, and a happy early birthday present to @onherwings miss juno, the resident taekook lover!! 💛

also the accompanying song to this fic is pour up by dean!

There were times when you were sober where you were persistent about never being in a five foot radius of a frat boy, much less strip yourself of your dignity long enough to sleep with one.

Your appalling disgust and immense irritation of the male species that were frat boys kept you well in tune to your rule ━ until you’re far past the point of drunk and faded. Only then, when your bloodstream is laced with alcohol and your mind is nothing but a hazy cloud of smoke, you shrink into a shameless hypocrite and favour the appeal of a simple hook up. But you have needs too; it isn’t entirely your fault. Kim Taehyung offers you exactly that, with the promise to then act as if nothing happens the very next day so that the two of you can revert to despising one another out in public.

You act as if no one knows about your flings with ultimate frat boy Taehyung almost every weekend, as if they’re just as oblivious as you, but damn near the whole school knows and most certainly the rest of the boys in Beta Tau Sigma, or as Taehyung puts it, his brothers. It’s a useless cycle of bicker, avoid, drink, sex, and repeat, ever since you joined the school as a freshman and the sophomore boy took an interest in you. He’s charming in all the right ways and good looking but his smooth appeal was almost too good to be true and, past his “kind” smiles, you could make him out to be arrogant, vain, and cocky. Maybe you would have given him an actual chance had it not been for his snarkiness but all your brain could truly handle was his dick for a few hours a week.

Unsurprisingly, you always end up crashing at Beta Tau Sigma after one of their raging parties that results in your hook ups with Taehyung; surprisingly, Taehyung is miraculously into pillow talk post-sex and so he doesn’t entirely mind if you stay the night. But, by morning, when the alcohol has all but turned into a terrible hangover, he can hardly care less if you stay or not.

Usually, you wake up on your own, courtesy of past sober you setting an alarm on your phone to make sure you wake up earlier than all the other walkers of shame and anyone else in Beta Tau Sigma. Ideally, it was to help guarantee that no one would ever see you or judge you for stooping low enough to sleep with a fuckboy but you don’t know how well that’s working out for you anymore, if you’re being honest.

That’s why, early one fateful Sunday morning after a night of fun with Taehyung, you awaken with a start to the shrill Marimba tone that rips through the silence of the room and causes you to literally jump out of bed and crash onto the floor. You groan at the sharp pain that shoots up your spine and accompanies your groggy mind as your eyes flicker open only to be greeted with a blinding light that is the sun as it filters through the shut curtains. Littered on the ground are clothes, your clothes, beer bottles, red solo cups, discarded bed sheets, a singular condom wrapper (you thank your past selves for at least being sober enough to remember to use one), and your cell phone.

“Turn that shit off, for fuck sakes,” he grovels.

His hangover, and the early morning, makes his already deep voice even rougher, huskier, and you blame your disoriented mind for thinking he sounds even remotely sexy. He doesn’t bother to lift his head from his pillow or to find where you are in the room, the messy longer-than-usual curls of his hair flopping into his lashes as he flips onto his back. Other bodily remnants remain from the night before, from the mellowing ache between your legs left in the wake of his dick sufficiently railing you to the bite marks on his neck that you had so graciously bestowed him.

Now, you roll your eyes at him instead but dive for your phone nearby and tap the snooze button before it wakes the entire house and rouses the army of fuckboys from the dead.

“Good morning to you too,” You remark. “Is that better, princess?”

“Much.”

You push yourself to your feet and stretch, the stiff joints in your body popping and cracking, before searching for your clothes. You’re certain Taehyung has fallen back asleep as you dig around through the clutter to find your belongings but what else is new? It’s a routine the two of you have come to know well, and one that neither of you mind. You spot some sort of lacy material hidden underneath a few of Taehyung’s dirty laundry laying on the floor and reach for it thinking it’s yours. You’re only mildly disturbed to find that it isn’t yours at all ━ though you’re more concerned about the hygienic purposes of touching some other girl’s thong than you are about the blatant fact Taehyung sleeps with more girls than just you (a fact you swear you could care less for).

“Jesus Christ, your room is a disaster,” You scoff now.

“You could clean it,” Taehyung suggests sluggishly. Now, he’s awake, pretty and hooded eyes fluttering open to find you nearby. He props his hand behind his head to lift his gaze a little higher.

You snort, tossing the underwear away. “You never cease to━”

“Amaze you?”

“Repel me more than when I see the collection of thongs you have hidden in your room,” You correct. Fortunately, you spot your own underwear nearby and scoop it up, quickly slipping into them.

“Aw, baby, is that a bit of jealousy I hear?” Taehyung asks. He runs a hand through his dishevelled dark locks and shoots you a drowsy smirk. “You know you’re my one and only. I can always count on you when I want good head.”

“Please, flatter me some more, Tae,” You quip dryly.

As you hastily slide into your stiff shirt and jeans next and turn to face him, combing your fingers through your hair, Taehyung seems to take your words to heart and tries again. “You look like shit.”

You feign a voluntarily loud and overly dramatic moan. “Ugh, you really do know how to treat a girl━” Your cut off by a shameless snort from Taehyung before you continue on, “You know, you don’t exactly look the hottest right now either.”

“I beg to differ,” he replies nonchalantly. Technically, he isn’t lying, but you refuse to feed his ego any more.

“As if.”

“Funny,” he hums. “Could’ve sworn last night you were calling me hot when you were begging for my dick.”

You don’t bother to reply. Instead, you shake your head as you rub your tired face, uttering, “I need a coffee.”

“You could stay,” he offers. “I can make you one.”

“You don’t even know how to boil water,” You retort. “But thanks for the gesture. Try not to throw up on yourself today, okay?”

Taehyung mumbles something in response but then he’s already flipping over onto his side to fall back asleep again. You grab your bag from the floor and slip into your shoes before tiptoeing out of the room.

The Beta house is just as much a disaster as Taehyung’s room is and you find yourself stepping over more bottles, cups, empty pizza boxes, and hungover passed out people with phallic images doodled on their faces. The sun filters into the ever grand mansion and only illuminates the chaos the frat boys put it through. Everyone is thankfully still asleep as you head downstairs but, as you sneak past the kitchen, you notice two figures rummaging about, boisterous unabashed laughter filling the house that somehow hasn’t woken the others yet.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you with Park Jimin, both fellow Beta brothers, though Jungkook is in the same year as you. They, like most other Beta boys (and especially Taehyung), are well known on campus but Jungkook is perhaps even worse than Taehyung. Now, he’s adorned in only low hanging gray sweatpants that show off the ripples of his toned chest and the happy trail that threatens for your eyes to follow it. He holds a bowl of cereal close to him with the same arm decorated on every inch with tattoos, a snapback pushing his messy hair up and away from his forehead. The best part (and you mean that not at all) ━ or the worst ━ is the fact that he stands on a hoverboard, as if walking is too much for him to handle at nine in the morning. Jimin isn’t far off wearing the same attire, only his look is paired with the fuckboy-essential-starter-pack of socks and Adidas slides, and he’s at least actually using his legs to walk.

“Morning,” Jungkook smirks. “Time for the walk of shame?”

You have to retain a sigh. “I’m surprised you’re up, Jeon. I was sure you were gone past the point of saving last night.”

“A couple of shots do nothing for me,” Jungkook replies, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I was pretty much sober.”

At this, you sit back on your heels and look him once over skeptically. “You kept trying to hook up with me, called your dick Jungcock, threw up in one of the vases, and then passed out in the bathtub. I wouldn’t have exactly called you sober.”

The smirk remains on Jungkook’s face. If anything, he seems more so amused and it pisses you off. Jimin bursts into a fit of laughter and shakes his head.

“Always a pleasure seeing you, Y/N,” he greets. “Hey, are you coming to the party going down at Lambdas house after exams? It’s pretty exclusive but you and your friends are all invited by courtesy of us.”

“Ugh, I can’t even think about going to another party right now. How do you Beta whores do it?” You grovel. “Besides, why would we come if we know you’re going to be there?”

“‘Cause Tae’s going and you’re probably gonna wanna suck his dick,” Jungkook suggests snidely.

“I was gonna say the free booze,” Jimin offers instead. “Man, you know the Lambdas. They’re all rich pretentious sons of country club owners. They hardly throw parties but, when they do, you know it’s going to be wild. I wouldn’t miss it if I were you.”

“Well,” You say, “thanks for the invitation but we’ll see. Maybe if we have a pre-game where I can get drunk enough to handle your faces and the Lambda boys together.”

“I’ve always said you’re more fun when you’re drunk,” Jungkook hums pensively. Your eyes narrow into a glare and you’re fortunate Jimin is there to block your path from tackling Jungkook.

“Okay, whatever,” You grumble. “I’m out of here. I think if I stay here any longer, I’ll lose all my brain cells.”

Jimin chuckles but hardly seems bothered by your comment. He waves you off as he slips out of the kitchen to retreat into another room, leaving you alone with Jungkook.

“Can I get you anything before you go?” he asks. There’s a cheeky tone laced in his words that makes you blatantly aware he’s trying to suggest something more, like his dick.

“Absolutely not,” You wave him off. “See you around, Jungidiot.”

He grins and shoves another spoonful into his mouth. “Hey, maybe next Saturday you can think about blowing me instead of Tae, yeah?”

He’s met with you jamming your middle finger in his face and it only seems to entertain him further. As you march out of their home, slamming the door behind you, you have one discernable thought amongst your hangover and that is that you’ll definitely need to have that pre-game before you have the audacity to even see Jungkook, or any of the Beta boys for that matter, at the Lambdas.

That Saturday, you find yourself at the Lambdas house party.

So maybe you had sort of been lying when you said you weren’t so sure of going to it, but the thought was tempting enough and you aren’t one to pass up on a good party, especially when it’s after weeks of headaches and stressing over studying and exams.

Mid-terms come and go and when you finally finish writing your last paper, all you want to do is let loose and party and get dicked down by Taehyung. The Lambdas, despite their pretentious behaviour, looks to be very promising ━ but only after you down a few shots beforehand and have a beer while you’re getting ready. You’re not exactly as drunk or as tipsy as you would have prefered but it still gives you a nice enough buzz that makes you warm and lets the adrenaline pump in your veins and excites you even more for the party. The house you rent is off campus but it’s close to Beta’s and Taehyung offers to give you guys a lift to the Lambdas who are a fifteen minute walk away (but you know Taehyung will do anything to not walk anywhere his penny board can’t take him ━ and it’s not even Taehyung who is driving but his friend, Jin).

You can hear the party at Lambdas before you’re even there. The thump of bass coming from the house isn’t hard to miss, especially not with the way it seems to rattle the ground the closer you get. The house is crammed full to capacity and people have already begun to spill onto the lawn by the time you have arrived. A potent waft of alcohol and weed fill your senses and it is all you could really make out in the rambunctious party. You can hardly hear yourself think, let alone what others are saying to you. Yet, you still found a way to have fun almost instantly, drifting away from the guys to party with your friends.

Most of the night is a blur and a haze of confusion but you can remember drinking and drinking some more until you’re sufficiently smashed. You can’t quite recall where you had lost your friends, though you suspect it was after the intense game of beer pong you were suckered into in which you were certain there were no winners or losers as it was just an excuse to drink even more. It’s nearing 1 a.m. when you finally bump into a familiar face, pulling you back from the unruly party and the adrenaline rush coursing through your veins.

You’ve just slipped outside for some fresh air, perched on the front porch, when you notice Jimin is passed out on the lawn below. The other stragglers gathered outside barely take note of him but maybe that’s because he had chosen to faceplant in the shadows under the porch, tucked safely away from the rest of the party. Just before you can even think to walk over to him and make sure he’s still alive, the front door of the house swings wide open and a frenzied Taehyung bursts outside, shortly followed by an equally dumbfounded Jungkook.

“Where the fuck is he?” Taehyung hisses.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook sighs, disgruntled, “but leave it to him to run off and disappear.”

“Looking for someone?”

The two boys startle at your voice. They whirl around to find you taking a sip of the drink in your hand, as if only just noticing your presence. You hadn’t seen them since you parted ways a handful of hours ago in the party, though you’re fairly certain they’re just as smashed as you.

“Ah, babe!” Taehyung beams wolfishly. “What a pleasure seeing you out here. Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have seen where Jimin went, would you?”

You nod in the direction of the sleeping boy down below. “He’s there. He’s passed out cold, though. What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook says. He grimaces as he hastily follows Taehyung down onto the lawn to stand near Jimin, and you in tow. “Jimin just likes to get out of hand. What should we do, Tae? We can’t just leave him here and Luna’s going to be pissed if she sees him like this.”

Taehyung stares down at Jimin miserably, thinking momentarily. “Well, Luna’s looking for him so we might as well drop him off at her dorm. He can deal with her when he’s sober.”

There’s a brief moment where you spot Jungkook seriously considering this though, as if leaving Jimin on the lawn of a frat house is a safer option than returning him to his girlfriend. Ultimately, he caves and you watch as Taehyung nudges Jimin awake (and by nudge, you mean he slaps the boy across the face) before pulling a very disoriented Jimin to his feet and slinging one of his arms over Taehyung’s neck.

“Fuck, he’s heavy,” Taehyung huffs. “Give me a hand, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods, stepping forward to take Jimin’s other arm and hook it around his own neck. The two boys seem to be struggling carrying most of Jimin’s body weight, though they’re carrying mostly dead weight as Jimin continues to drift in and out of consciousness.

Before they can leave you offer to help though you don’t know what you can really do so you suspect your inebriated mind just wanted to go with them for the hell of it. Luna’s place isn’t far. It’s a ten minute walk from Lambda’s, but in that ten minutes, none of you talk about anything of real importance except for chuckle and laugh about things that happened at the party.

Eventually you make it to Luna’s, who answers the door angrily after you knock on it as if you’ve disrupted her slumber and frowns when she sees Jimin’s current state. At least she has the decency to thank the three of you. When she shuts the door behind her, the three of you turn to look at one another, almost clueless.

“So, what now?” Taehyung asks. “Head back to the party?”

The thought of making the ten minute walk back to the party in your drunken mind seems like an eternity. That, mixed with the way your feet scream in agony from the heels you’re wearing, you begin to pout and shake your head.

“I can’t walk anymore,” You whine, words drunkenly slurring together. “I’d be fine just sitting here.”

Jungkook’s nose scrunches as he looks at you once over. “How drunk are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, how about we just go back to our place?” Taehyung asks. His arm slides around your waist then, tugging you close to his side. If one thing is for certain, the boy tends to get more handsy the more drunk he is, and you never seem to mind. “I’ve got a fresh bowl we can hit and we can drink there and just chill?”

You and Jungkook consider Taehyung’s offer fleetingly and, to you, it seems much more appealing.

“Sign me up,” You say. “The Lambdas were a bit too over the top for my liking. There’s only so much I can handle.”

Jungkook shrugs and nods in agreement. “Then I guess I’m going with you guys.”

The five minute walk to Beta is short and soon you’re inside the eerily empty house and climbing the steps to Taehyung’s room but not before the three of you raid their cabinets for any type of liquor. Eventually, you’re all lounging in Taehyung’s room, some type of music playing in the background as the three of you pass around a bottle of whisky and the bong Taehyung had promised he had, giggling at each other.

By 2 a.m., you are smashed and faded but blissfully so.

Taehyung and Jungkook are not too far off. It’s Taehyung who comes up with the idea to play strip poker, though with a twist. His version of the game includes: taking a shot anytime one of you loses a round along with either stripping an article of clothing or being allowed to pass it and get dared to do something else, though each person only has three passes.

Jungkook loses the first round, shedding only his jacket. Taehyung and you lose the second round; you decide to strip out of your own cardigan while Taehyung flicks off his hat. Jungkook and Taehyung lose the third round and both kick off their shoes. The game progresses slowly, with the three of you coming up with “clever” loopholes out of the rules, like stripping one sock one round and then another sock the next and all of you are too drunk to really protest. Eventually, the game winds up with Taehyung and Jungkook both in their pants and you still wearing both your shirt and jeans. Both the boys have used one of their passes and are still losing which, you will admit, boosts your confidence ever so slightly especially when you have such a nice view in front of you.

Both boys are toned, with certified gym rat Jungkook’s abs a bit more chiseled, and you know that sober you would cringe at how hard you seem to be drooling over them. Jungkook must notice because he shoots you a wink that has you squirming in your seat.

“Like what you see?” he asks.

“N-No,” You say shortly. “Shut up and go. It’s your turn.”

You end up losing that round, unfortunately, but you have no qualms with stripping out of your jeans and kicking them to the side. The next round, you lose again, except you decide to use one of your passes which has both boys groaning in defeat.

“Remember,” You coo, “play nice boys.”

The two exchange a look and you wait patiently, taking your shot of whisky in the meantime as Taehyung chides you on encouragingly with a cheeky, “Pour up, baby girl.”

You down the shot in one gulp, wincing as it burns down your throat, then chase it quickly with the drink you had stolen from their kitchen. A drowsy smirk tugs at Taehyung’s lips as he takes another rip from the bong, breathing out a cloud of smoke as he hums insouciantly, “I’ve got your dare.”

There’s a split moment where he makes eye contact with you and pushes his hair out of his eyes.

“Come here and kiss me.”

Had you been sober, you might have rolled your eyes at his simple yet assertive dare but, instead, you can’t help but snicker as you lean across to him from your seat on the floor and pull him down for a not so graceful kiss. His whisky coated tongue instantly collides with yours in an open mouthed frenzy that’s full of teeth clashing and wet sounds but it’s hot, too hot, even as Taehyung pulls you closer to him with his hand grasping at your chin. You instinctively react, teeth nipping at his lower lip as you suck hard, momentarily forgetting about Jungkook sitting in the room.

A moan emits from you as your fingers thread through his hair. Jungkook is left to watch but his eyes stay locked on your figure and the way you cave so easily to Taehyung, the way your mouth moves against his. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your position on your hands and knees, or the way you arch your back in an attempt to get closer to Taehyung, and he certainly can’t seem to look away from the tempting curve of your ass jutting in his direction. All Jungkook suddenly wants is for you to be kissing him the same way you’re kissing Taehyung.

You’re only interrupted when he finds the nerve to clear his throat after a few moments. “Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just sit here. Do you guys want me to leave?”

He’s being sarcastic, of course, and when you and Taehyung part to look at the boy, he’s scowling. The two of you chuckle lightly but don’t respond, though you remember the game you’re still playing. Taehyung kisses you one last time before you settle back onto the floor, a sheepish giggle bubbling in your chest. Taehyung loses the next round and he decides to strip down into his underwear though he hasn’t lost yet (the goal is nudity and neither of your drunk selves have enough dignity left to give up before then).

The round after that, you lose again. You decide, once more, to use another one of your passes and the two boys pause, thinking of a dare for you as you take a shot (which, you have realized, only get harder to take as time passes).

“I have one,” Taehyung says at long last.

“Bro,” Jungkook groans, “if you just wanna fuck, let me know. I’ll leave. I don’t think I can sit here and watch you dare her to suck your face again.”

Taehyung laughs and shakes his head. “Easy there. I was just gonna suggest that you━” he points at you before nodding toward Jungkook, “give him a lap dance.”

“A what?” Jungkook’s jaw drops open, his eyes widening. “M-Me?”

You glance up at Taehyung, quirking an eyebrow. “Him?”

Taehyung erupts into another fit of laughter but he’s the only one who finds the situation hilarious because you and Jungkook continue to sit there, dumbfounded. When Taehyung calms himself down, he wipes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Are you seriously telling me you haven’t been noticing?” he asks.

“Noticing what?”

“The way Jungkook keeps eye-fucking you,” Taehyung says simply.

Jungkook gaps. “The fuck? I haven’t.”

“Jungkook, you’re not exactly sly,” Taehyung says. “He’s been doing it the whole night, babe. It’s not the first time he’s done it, too. I just figured we could do him a little favour.”

Your turn to look up at Jungkook and purse your lips. He’s seated in Taehyung’s desk chair and has a frown painted on his face. It’s not like it comes as a surprise to you because he’s constantly trying to flirt with you even when you’re sober but his sudden flustered appearance puzzles you slightly. You’ll admit the idea is ludicrous, but Jungkook is undeniably hot, and grinding on his dick sounds more than wonderful to you in your current state. Either way, you stand to your feet.

“I’ll do it,” You say. “Why not?”

“Wh-What?” Jungkook yelps. “You will?”

“Yeah,” You flash him a pearly smirk. “What? Is confident Jungkookie finally shy?”

At the mention of the taunting nickname, he straightens up in his seat and scowls. “No. I’m just surprised you gave in so easily. You must really like me, huh?”

“Keep dreaming, Jeon,” You retort.

The music is still playing in the background as you slink towards Jungkook’s seated figure. Meanwhile, Taehyung is watching with an amused look on his face and sits back, clearly enjoying the view as he tells you that you have three minutes. As you approach Jungkook, he leans back in his seat and watches you with dark eyes. Jungkook’s eyes sweep over your figure, from the way you muse your hands through your messy hair, your tight tank top with one strap falling down your shoulder, your lacy and scantily clad underwear, and your smooth legs. He gulps at the sight and shifts in his seat.

As soon as you’re standing in front of him, you whirl around so that your back is to him and jutt your butt out just enough to catch his attention as you sway your hips to the music. Your hands ghost up your sides just faintly enough so that chills run down your spine and you lock eyes with Taehyung for a split second to see him grinning. You sit back on Jungkook’s lap and his breath hitches in his throat suddenly. He hates to admit how easily you’re driving him crazy and as soon as you are but he takes the time to enjoy the dance anyway, eyes staying trained on your ass as you grind against him in agonizingly slow circles and right against his dick nestled against his thigh. He can’t help it when a moan emits from him.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, raking his hands through his hair. You snicker at his reaction, craning your neck to look behind at him.

“Enjoying yourself, Kookie?”

“N-No,” he rasps. This is a lie, of course. “Turn around.”

His command only humours you but you don’t disobey. You get up for a second to spin around and face him before climbing back onto his lap, swinging one leg over his. Before you drop your hips completely on him, you’re rocking them back and forth against the thin air, your hands snaking around his neck. His hands suddenly find purchase on your waist and he yanks you down onto him with a sudden neediness that surprises you, though you don’t complain. You continue to grind against his lap and you can’t help your greedy self when your hands reach out to run up and down his toned chest. He shivers at your slightest touch, his jaw clenched, but he keeps his gaze focused on your eyes, as if challenging you for more. Behind you, Taehyung is taking another hit from the bong and laughs lightly at Jungkook’s reactions.

“Let him touch you,” Taehyung says.

You expect Jungkook to listen to Taehyung and reach out to grab onto you but he hesitates, his hands remaining at your hips. So, instead, you take his hands in yours and begin pulling them up, sliding them along your midriff and up to your chest. You don’t even flinch as you let him cup your boobs over your clothes and you watch him slyly as he gulps.

“Is this the first time you’ve actually touched a girl, Jungkook?” You quip. “You’re gawking at my boobs like it is. Not gonna wet yourself, hm?”

“Fuck off,” he growls, though there’s no malice in his voice.

Instead, he focuses his attention on your breasts and the weight of them in his palm. They’re soft and supple and he squeezes them firmly, jiggles the flesh as he fondles at you blatantly. He hates to admit it but he feels as if he’s going to combust at any second, repressing the sudden urge to tear off your shirt and burrow his head in your chest, your boobs in his mouth. He doesn’t know whether the soft moan that slips from your parted pink lips is intentional to mess with him or because you had been getting carried away yourself. Either way, Jungkook’s certain it’s the hottest thing he’s heard in a while, the hottest thing he’s seen in a while, and he hates how his sudden erection forms, how embarrassing it must be. When you feel his hardened length start to poke at your thigh, you look down at him past your lashes and smirk.

“Are you hard already, Kookie?” You giggle.

Taehyung roars with laughter abruptly and the outburst only makes Jungkook redden.

“I━I━” he stammers helplessly.

You shake your head at him and then purposely press your hips a little more firmly against his, gripping at his shoulders now. You’re challenging him now too, and he doesn’t know what you have in mind but you’re wickedly set on making him cum in his pants before Taehyung stops you.

“Time’s up,” he says.

Jungkook almost groans out loud in frustration when you pull away and step off of his lap. He’s embarrassingly hard now but his drunk self doesn’t try very hard to hide it. Taehyung’s stare is settled on Jungkook as you walk back to your seat but, before you can even sit down, Taehyung is beckoning you over.

“Come here, babe,” he hums. You look at him curiously but move in his direction. “What do you say we help Jungkook with his problem, huh?”

“Help? How?” You question.

“Come sit,” Taehyung gestures to his thigh.

Jungkook watches with silent seething jealousy as you take a seat on Taehyung’s thigh and then he’s kissing you, pressing his lips against your neck. You react almost instantly, your head craning to allow him more access and your eyes clamp shut, your mouth hanging open in delight.

“Tae━” You mewl, tugging at his hair, as if to prompt him wordlessly about Jungkook’s presence. But when does it become too much? Every action seems to keep building and building, that you know where the night surely must be heading; that you crave it.

Taehyung’s tongue swirls at your neck, his lips sucking on the sensitive skin, before he peeks one eye open to look at Jungkook.

“Look at him,” Taehyung hums against you. “Look at how jealous he is right now. Look at how bad he wants to be me right now.”

You take a moment to register his words, your head spinning. You struggle to find Jungkook as Taehyung continues to ravish your neck. Jungkook’s stare is hard, his jaw clenched; his hands are balled into tight fists that let you see the bulging veins in his arms. Is he jealous? Angry?

Taehyung suddenly bites down onto your neck and you gasp in surprise, leaning against his chest. His nimble fingers find the hem of your shirt which he lifts and discards on the floor with ease. Next to come off is your bra. You don’t realize your torso is bare until a slight breeze hits your breasts and perks your nipples and Taehyung reaches up to cup the soft tissue in his large hands and Jungkook can’t look away because, fuck, touching you is all he really wants to do.

“Do you see him staring now?” Taehyung asks. “Do you see how desperate he is for you? Look at how bad he wants to touch you right now, baby girl. Will you let him?”

You’re still staring at Jungkook as Taehyung speaks and note how fast Jungkook’s demeanour has changed. He looks helpless, his erection more prominent in his straining jeans which he shamelessly palms at to feel some sort of relief.

“Better yet,” Taehyung hums, averting your attention back to him. He’s sliding one of his hands down your front and in between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. His digits come in contact with your clothed pussy and the sudden touch, light and feathery, makes you jump and gasp. You hadn’t been aware of how wet you had been until he touched you just then and the coil in your stomach only tightens with each passing second. “Will you let him play with you?”

It takes you a second to respond, though that isn’t because you’re struggling to decide. The thought entices you far more than you ever believed it could. Taehyung is suddenly rubbing his fingers against your clothed clit in so very slow circles that it suddenly has you tripping over your own thoughts. You’re biting hard onto your lower lip as you force yourself to nod hastily.

“Do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.

“Fuck, yes,” You whine. “Mmm, Tae━”

Taehyung shifts you in his lap so that your back is pressed against his chest, leaning all your weight against him. It’s hard to focus as one of his hands fondles one of your breasts while his other presses figure eights onto your clit. You’re on full display for Jungkook now, though his eyes fall to the wet spot that forms on your pretty little underwear as your arousal leaks from you.

“How badly do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.

“So badly,” You whimper.

This catches Jungkook’s attention and he leans forward in his seat. Taehyung smirks against you and then he’s moving, withdrawing his hand from between your thighs to hook around the waistband of your underwear. He gives it a quick tug and you fumble to lift your hips so he can pull the useless fabric down your legs. Once it pools at your feet, you kick it off to the side and then Taehyung’s hand returns between your thighs.

“Spread your legs,” he says.

You do as you’re told, pushing your thighs apart but then instinctively squeezing them shut when Taehyung continues to press his fingers against your clit. The sudden stimulation is too much for you and your face begins to heat up so Taehyung uses the chance to push your legs apart for you. He hitches one of your thighs over his own as if to anchor you in place and it works.

“Can you stay like that for me, baby?” Taehyung drawls. “Look at Jungkook for me.”

You nod, your throat dry as you lift your gaze to lock eyes once more with Jungkook. You find the boy gawking at your sex and you moan suddenly. His head snaps up to stare at you with a sudden blazing determination and lust in his eyes before they fall once more to your pussy, admiring the way it pulsates each time Taehyung swipes at your clit or tweaks at your nipples. But the best part? The best part is just how wet you are, your clear juices coating Taehyung’s fingers, spilling onto yours and Taehyung’s thighs with the passing seconds, and suddenly Jungkook is hungry for you. But what he doesn’t know is how you suddenly imagine Jungkook in Taehyung’s place, sat beneath you poised daintily on his lap, his fingers pressing against you.

You twist on top of Taehyung, your own hand reaching up to grasp at your other breast, pinching at the nipple tightly. A delighted moan fumbles from your lips. “Jungkook━ Fuck━”

“It’s nice, yeah?” Taehyung asks aloud to the other boy. “She’s pretty, hm?”

Jungkook nods eagerly and then groans. “She’s dripping. Fuck, it’s so hot.”

Your face burns at his words but you don’t have enough wits to think of a snarky retort like usual.

Taehyung chuckles. “Why don’t you come here then and touch her? Taste her? Is that okay, baby?”

When you realize Taehyung is asking you, you nod eagerly. “Shit, please━ Jungkook, wanna feel you━”

At your request, Jungkook practically tumbles out of his seat. As soon as he’s standing on his feet, the realization seems to hit him and he takes his time, walking to you slowly. His gaze sweeps over your exposed body and he licks his lips, his eyes suddenly darkening. Taehyung doesn’t stop touching you or marking your neck his even as Jungkook walks closer and it hits you in that moment what exactly you’re doing and who you’re with ━ and you fucking love it. Jungkook kneels down in front of you and Taehyung nods in encouragement.

“She’s impatient and feisty,” Taehyung informs. “But that makes her fun to tease.”

“I know how to pleasure a girl,” Jungkook quips.

“But you don’t know how to pleasure Y/N,” Taehyung replies. “You’re too cocky, Jungkookie, and she doesn’t like that. You need to take your time with her and you don’t do that often with girls, do you?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond but, judging by his face, you assume Taehyung is right.

“What do you want me to do?” Jungkook asks. He’s staring at your face now and only your face. His intense stare makes you squirm on Taehyung’s lap, and makes you suck your lower lip between your teeth.

“Touch me,” You rasp. “Touch me, please, Jungkook.”

God, how he loves hearing you moan his name. But the anticipation is killing you. You’ve felt Taehyung’s fingers plenty of time; you’ve never felt Jungkook’s, and the abrupt need seems to grow more intense with each passing second.

“You heard her, Jungkookie,” Taehyung says. He draws his hand away from your heat and kisses your neck softly. “Go on. Touch her. Be gentle, go slow.”

Jungkook is shaking with excitement ━ or maybe it’s just the weed and alcohol in his bloodstream ━ but he eyes you carefully, gnawing down on his lower lip. He reaches out at a tedious pace and hesitates, his fingers hovering over your core. Taehyung is watching with eager eyes whilst planting open mouthed kisses along your shoulders, neck, and jawline. Jungkook finally presses his fingers against your pussy and your reaction is immediate. You toss your head back against Taehyung’s shoulder and jutt your hips forward.

“Nnngh, fuck, Kook━” You whimper. “M-More━ Wanna feel more━”

Jungkook takes that as a good sign and follows after Taehyung, rubbing circles into your clit slowly. He feels just how wet you are, his fingers coating with your cum as they move with ease past your folds, and it’s enough to let the wave of glee wash over him again.

“See? Look how much she loves it already,” Taehyung says. “Keep going.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. As he rubs his fingers over your clit, his other hand comes up in a greedy fashion. He can’t stop himself from slipping a finger past your folds and it takes all you can not to moan out loud but you give up on the prospect of remaining quiet when it feels so good to have both boys on you.

“Let him know how you feel, baby,” Taehyung purs. “How he’s making you feel.”

You struggle to find your voice momentarily, too caught up with the lust and desire but then a cry of delight falls from your lips. “Fuck, ah, Jungkook! That feels s-so good━”

Jungkook’s head snaps up to look at you in pure disbelief.

“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot,” he huffs. “I never thought you’d moan my name and now you’re so wet and tight and for me━”

“And me,” Taehyung admonishes offhandedly.

Jungkook doesn’t reply but that’s mostly because he’s suddenly fixated on curling his finger inside of you and watching your every reaction. Your hips jut forward and you cry out, panting at the blissful feeling but it isn’t enough. You need more, and you need more now. As if Taehyung can read your mind, he chimes in again, disrupting yours and Jungkook’s reverie.

“Why don’t you have a taste of her?” he asks. “You won’t regret it.”

Jungkook’s eyes light up and he watches as you nod eagerly, desperate pleas coming from your mouth. Jungkook lowers himself down between your thighs and you wait with bated breath before he’s licking a clean stripe against your folds with his flattened tongue. The sudden slippery warmth has your body writhing in pleasure.

“Jungkook━” You cry out. “Oh my god━”

Jungkook grins. Then he’s licking at you again, tasting your sweet succulence, and groans into your hot core.

“Shit,” Jungkook huffs. “You taste amazing.”

He nibbles down slightly on your clit without warning and tugs. You instantly jerk into his mouth, a strangled moan ripping from your throat that sounds something like a scold of his name and a desperate plea for more. “Jungkook!”

Taehyung snickers against your neck and you can feel Jungkook’s lips curl into a taunting smirk between your thighs. Jungkook’s finger still curls deep within you as his tongue returns to lapping at your clit and you can feel his nose brushing against you the deeper he burrows into you. Meanwhile, Taehyung is continuing to ravish your neck, his hands tweaking at your nipples. The onslaught of senses is so much for you that you nearly scream when Jungkook’s tongue dips into your heat so suddenly to accompany his finger. He laps at you hungrily and you gasp, your breath stuttering as your hands come down to tug hard in his raven locks, your hips bucking forward and into his mouth. It feels fantastic, too incredible for you to put into words, as you feel the wetness of his tongue lap at your walls and suddenly you’re aware of just how susceptible you are to both of the boys near you.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Jungkook,” You moan.

“Now who’s the needy one?” Jungkook coos against your cunt. “Gonna cum on my tongue?”

“P-Please━ Want it so badly, Kook━”

He smacks his lips against you, taking as much as he can of you into his mouth and sucking hard until all you hear are the lewd wet sounds of his tongue and finger working miracles against you. You’re clutching his hair so tight, pushing him closer into your heat but he doesn’t relent. One of his hands comes up to hold onto your waist, to push you firmly back onto Taehyung’s lap and closer into Jungkook’s mouth. You can feel Taehyung’s budding erection poking against your thigh and it’s enough to make you flustered once more.

In an attempt to help Taehyung, you find yourself grinding not only into Jungkook’s mouth but onto Taehyung’s lap, earning a growl into your neck. Taehyung’s free hand comes up to your chin which he grabs roughly. He forces you to look at him and then he’s smashing his lips onto yours in a heated fashion for an entirely ungraceful kiss. It’s needy and hot, completely open mouthed as your tongues mingle in the air and as Taehyung sucks on your lower lip. Yet you tear your gaze from Taehyung to look down at Jungkook as he buries himself further into your pussy, his nose nuzzling against your clit. You’re dripping by now and you can see your own juices smear onto his lips, dribble down to his chin, and it’s the hottest thing you could ever imagine seeing. He doesn’t seem to care as it spills down his neck and suddenly the mere sight has you squirming again. You part from Taehyung’s mouth with a wet pop that rings in your ears and moan.

“Fuck━ nghn, I━I━ think I’m close,” You whimper.

“Fuuck, yes,” Jungkook growls against you.

“Let it go, baby,” Taehyung hums, nibbling at your ear. “Cum for him, for us.”

Jungkook’s pace quickens, pumping his finger faster in you and sucking at your clit until you have no more strength to hold off. Your hands fumble in his hair, trying desperately to pull him closer, and you hate how badly you want your sweet release already. It doesn’t help when Taehyung twists your body ever so slightly so that he can lean down to your breasts and catch one of your nipples between his teeth. His tongue swishes back and forth against the perked bud and you whimper again, the coil in your stomach tightening and loosening.

You’re so close now and Jungkook can hear it, can feel it, can taste it. You don’t have much longer after that before your orgasm is hitting you hard.

“I’m gonna━” You reach out to grasp at Jungkook’s hair, tugging at the roots. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

You cry out suddenly, the coil in your stomach springing apart. Jungkook moans into your pussy as you cum, pulsating around his tongue and finger and dripping into his mouth. You’re reduced to nothing but a whimpering, writhing mess against Taehyung as you buck back and forth into Jungkook’s mouth to ride out your high. Taehyung pulls apart from you to rub circles into your hips and the seemingly gentle move somehow soothes the intense wave of pleasure into something much sweeter. Fire burns at your core and flicks outward until your whole body is warm and numb and then you collapse against Taehyung’s chest, panting hard. Jungkook drinks up every last bit of you and you begin to cringe at the oversensitivity before you gain some of your wits again. You push his head away hastily and this time he relents.

“Did all your little happy wet dreams finally come true, Jeon?” You snicker languidly.

The boy sits back on his knees and looks up at you, locking gazes with yours. You can finally see his face, his tousled black hair, his swollen red lips, and chin, all of which are covered in your perfect sheen. He licks at his lips and wipes at his chin and neck where his tongue can’t reach and he does all of this without breaking eye contact with you. A small smirk forms on his face and suddenly you’re filled with an intense need for payback.

“Yeah, you act confident now but you seemed to enjoy it when you were riding my face,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, about to reply before he adds, “So, you’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible,” You huff, pushing yourself off of Taehyung’s lap.

“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” Taehyung mewls behind you. “We still need you.”

“Oh, I know,” You quip. You reach down to grab onto Jungkook’s chin, forcing him to look up at you. “But it’s my turn, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. Jungkook, however, hardly looks bothered, though he seems a little taken aback by your sudden assertiveness when you begin pulling him up to his feet before pushing him back onto the bed. Taehyung scoots over so that the three of you can fit comfortably on his bed and then you’re moving, crawling over to Jungkook on your hands and knees.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Jungkook asks. “Because this is sexier than it is scary.”

You’re hovering over his crotch when he speaks, your greedy hands reaching forward to brush against his hard dick straining in his jeans. He nearly jolts in his seat at the sudden touch and you and Taehyung giggle again.

“Mmm, baby, teach him a lesson,” Taehyung hums. “Suck him off nice and slow but don’t let him cum.”

“Not unless he begs for it,” You say wickedly.

Taehyung stifles a chuckle. “I told you she’s feisty, Jungkookie.”

The younger boy is eyeing you carefully as you busy yourself by undoing the belt buckle on his jeans. He acts unimpressed, unfazed, as you unbutton his jeans and began sliding them off his legs, but you can see the needy and impatient glint in his eyes. Your eyes fall immediately to the ever present straining bulge in his boxers and you gulp in response, licking your lips. You can’t help yourself when you reach out to brush your fingers faintly along his length. He jolts in his seat and grits his teeth, shooting you a hard glare.

“Are you seriously going to tease me?” Jungkook grumbles. “We can skip all of that, y’know━”

“It’s payback, Jeon,” You hum, running your fingers down his dick and then back up again. “Where’s the fun in it if I skip all of the teasing?”

“You know,” Taehyung murmurs from beside you. He’s reclining back, watching you with intense eyes and is completely shameless about his prominent erection contained by his boxers. “I’m surprised the idiot hasn’t referred to his dick yet as Jungcock.”

You giggle, an all too innocent and sweet sound for the way you’re palming at Jungkook’s dick. Jungkook, who is apparently having a rather difficult time keeping up with his surroundings while your fingers continue to work against him, scoffs. His eyebrows knit together as he throws a beady glare at the older boy.

“You’re ruining the mood,” he grunts.

Taehyung clicks his tongue against his teeth, a smirk tugging at his luscious lips. “Of course. I digress.”

You turn your attention back to Jungkook who’s staring down at your hand with parted lips and a crease in his brows. Without warning, you grasp him through his boxers and he groans suddenly, bucking forward. The desperation of his situation only seems to increase in severity when you peel back the elastic band of his boxers and slide them off his legs, finally freeing his dick which springs out from it’s confines. He’s much bigger than you expected, his tip angry and red, leaking with pearly beads that dribble down his length and the bulging veins that line it.

“You’re staring again,” Jungkook hums when he notices you pause, your eyes wide. “Sure you don’t like what you see?”

You shake yourself from your daze and frown. “Shut up.”

The boy starts to chuckle at your flustered expression but yelps when you clasp your fingers around the base of his cock. A beautiful moan falls from his lips and excites you even more. You start pumping him slowly, guiding your hands up and down his length in careful and measured motions, wiping your thumb across his tip each time you reach it. Jungkook shudders in your touch, his teeth coming down to gnaw hard on his lower lip. His eyes are glued to your hands working against him, his face scrunching up in pure euphoria.

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts, his head lolling back. “Stop teasing me and go faster.”

You don’t listen. If anything, you slow your pace and it has him so frustrated that he lets an involuntary whimper escape him. He bucks into your clenched hand, practically begging for more but remains quiet, safe for his heavy panting.

“You heard her, Kook,” Taehyung says. “Beg for her.”

“There’s no way I’m begging,” Jungkook hisses through gritted teeth. “Never. I never have and never will.”

“Bullshit,” You scoff. You fondle at his balls with your other hand and he moans again. Your hand comes to a complete halt all of a sudden, interrupting Jungkook as he is about to speak. Before he can protest, you lean down and lick at his tip, swirling your tongue around him once to taste his saltiness. His hips rut forward into you but you pull back almost immediately and find Jungkook gaping. You meet his desperate eyes for a steady gaze. “Beg. Just once, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook’s stare wavers as you run your fingers along his tip, squeezing slightly. He tries to compose himself, to remain calm, but when you are relentless, he caves very easily. He only gives in when you kiss the base of his cock. And those eyes ━ fuck, the way your eyes turn so wide and already look so fucked out. How could he resist you?

“Fuck, fuck, okay,” he gasps. “I need more, baby, please. Ah, please━ You feel so fucking good.”

His needy pleas satisfy you and your lips curl into a devious grin. You lower yourself on him suddenly, licking a clean stripe up his length and he moans loudly. You enclose your mouth around his tip and suck, earning a small growl from him as he pushes his hips forward for more. In the next second, you sink your mouth down his length, taking as much of him as you can.

“Fuck!” he moans abruptly. “Ahh, shit, that feels amazing, baby.”

You hollow out your cheeks as you pull your head up and then back down, starting at an even pace that has him moaning and writhing beneath you. He feels much bigger in your mouth but you don’t mind even when he bucks himself into you unexpectedly and hits the back of your throat. The action makes you gag around him and, in return, he curses at the way it feels.

“K-Keep doing that,” he mumbles. “Please, fuck, just like that.”

His fingers thread in your hair and he pulls you down greedily on him but you don’t refuse.

“Can you do it, baby girl?” Taehyung questions. His hand finds his way on your back where he rubs gentle circles into your skin. “Can you take all of him in your mouth?”

You nod carefully around Jungkook’s hardened length.

“Good girl,” Taehyung smirks. “Go slow.”

You follow his orders, sinking gradually onto Jungkook until you feel the tip of him hitting the back of your throat. You gag once more but, instead of pulling back, you shut your eyes and take a few deep breaths in through your nose. In, out, in, out, and then you swallow. Jungkook’s reaction is sudden and intense. He bucks into your mouth unwillingly and moans even louder, his fingers clutching at your roots.

“That’s it, baby,” Taehyung hums and his sudden presence is comforting.

“A-Again,” Jungkook stammers. “Again, please━ holy shit, you feel amazing.”

You swallow again and then a third and each time you can feel yourself sinking lower onto him. Tears prickle at your eyes as your nose is suddenly pressed against his lower abdomen but his reactions are well worth it and so you continue.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung says, planting a chaste kiss against your shoulder. “You deserve some more attention, hm?”

His fingers slowly rub circles down your back, his lips following your arch and has you shivering beneath him, before stopping at the dip just above your ass. He’s kneeling behind you now, his fingers massaging into your thighs. You sigh against Jungkook when you feel Taehyung’s fingers continue their trek to your ass, rubbing you carefully. You, in response, push your hips back, waiting for more.

“You’re still so wet, baby,” Taehyung says. “I bet you’d come with one touch of my finger.”

With Jungkook buried hilt deep inside your mouth, you’re hardly prepared for when Taehyung slips his fingers underneath to your folds. It’s embarrassing to admit how right he is. You react instantly, moaning around Jungkook and jutting your hips back for more. The simple vibration has Jungkook groaning, his hips bucking forward. You hadn’t even been aware of just how wet you are before Taehyung pointed it out but then you can feel it, pulsing out of you and dripping down the top of your inner thighs.

“But you need more, don’t you?” Taehyung asks. “How about my cock? Will you let me fuck you, baby girl?”

You nod eagerly, the simple question exciting you even more. Taehyung chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to the arch of your back.

“But you’ll have to be good and keep pleasuring Jungkook too, okay?” Taehyung says.

You hum in response and swallow around Jungkook as if to tell both boys that you have no plans on stopping. Jungkook twitches inside you and scrunches his eyes shut.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” he grumbles. “Hurry up. Any time you touch her, she swallows. It feels so good.”

Taehyung snickers but he takes his time. He runs his fingers up and down your folds until you’re moaning needily against Jungkook. You look over your shoulder to see Taehyung’s fingers wrapped around his own hardened and pulsating erection, pumping himself a few times as he stares at you carefully. He positions himself behind you and takes the chance to run his tip and length along your folds. You whimper suddenly, hoping your desperate noises will spur him on.

“You want more, baby?” Taehyung asks.

You hum again, your voice muffled and hoarse.

“Okay,” he sighs. “Only because you’ve been so good.”

You have no time to brace yourself from the sudden impact of feelings. He doesn’t do much except for push himself into you, past your folds. It’s only just the tip and yet your heart jolts in your chest, the coil in your stomach tightens. It feels so good to finally have something of larger girth in you that you gap, simultaneously sinking down further onto Jungkook. The two boys grunt above you, both of them panting hard.

“You feel so good, baby,” Taehyung mumbles. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

He leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder, his other hand coming up to rest on the dip of your lower back to guide you. He slowly, so very slowly, pushes himself into you, inch by inch, so you can feel the way he stretches you open, feel the way he buries into you. Your leaking arousal only proves to be of an advantage, letting him easily push into you without any trouble. Your fingers grip the bed sheets beneath you in an ironclad grip and you squeak when he’s finally buried hilt deep within you. You nearly gag around Jungkook again, who’s still panting and writhing above you, but the way Taehyung’s tongue marks patterns into your shoulder comforts you. You whine against Jungkook, pushing your hips back for more and the simplicity of your action has Taehyung’s breath hitching in his throat.

“So warm,” he grunts and then sighs against your back. “You always feel so amazing.”

He still hasn’t moved and you’re beginning to grow impatient, distraught over the feeling of him rock hard inside you but unmoving. You debate pulling apart from Jungkook to yell at Taehyung but you assume he can understand your haste judging by the way your body writhes beneath him, your fingers clench into fists. He pulls out in one languid movement, his breath stuttering, until only his tip is left before he pushes himself back in, equally as slow. He sets at a steady, easy pace that, at the very least, lets you grasp onto some sensible thoughts and pushes you to keep pleasing Jungkook. Jungkook can’t take it anymore; he starts rutting his hips up into your mouth with gritted teeth. It’s a hot, erotic mess of mingled moans and groans but you never want it to stop ━ in fact, you want more.

“You like that, baby?” Taehyung grunts.

You nod hurriedly, humming in response.

“Ah, fuck━” Taehyung groans. “Want it harder?”

You nod once more, this time eagerly. When Taehyung pulls back one more time, he slams himself back into you without any warning and you jerk forward, sinking down onto Jungkook. The younger boy moans, his head lolling back as his fingers twisting in your hair. You don’t expect Taehyung to do the same thing again, pull out slowly and then push himself back in with more force, but he does, and he repeats the action again and again until he abandons it for a whole new pace. Soon, he’s thrusting into you hard and fast but always making sure his hips reconnect with yours before pulling out so you can feel him practically in your throat.

“Like being fucked like this?” Taehyung asks. “You like being used like a little slut?”

His thrusts are relentless suddenly, jerking your body and back and forth until he’s fucking you in a way that has you sucking off Jungkook just right so that you hardly have to put in any effort. Although his hard thrusts feel amazing, each time you’re pushed forward, you sink further down onto Jungkook unwillingly and that, paired with the way Jungkook frantically fucks himself into your mouth, you nearly gag each time as he hits the back of your throat, drool pooling at your lips and dribbling down your chin. Tears prick at your eyes from the feeling and it’s too pleasing to quit, to pull away from Jungkook just yet. Jungkook’s staring down at you when he notices your scrunched up face. You’re surprised when his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing reassuringly into your cheekbone.

“You’re doing so━ ah, fuck━ so well, baby,” he rasps.

You can taste the saltiness of precum on the tip of your tongue and you wonder how close he is. You have no qualms in finishing him off then and there but soon the pleasure you’re receiving from Taehyung becomes too much. Soon, he’s hitting you at an angle that shakes something in you. You pull apart from Jungkook with a loud pop, saliva and cum coating his length and your lips, and a gasp wretches from your throat.

“Fuck!” You cry hoarsely. “Ah, T-Taehyung!”

You’re too weak to push yourself up and end up burying your head in Jungkook’s lower abdomen, feeling the heat consume you. You’re near numb, senseless, as you let Taehyung ravish your body, fuck you hard into the mattress and Jungkook. It’s a frantic build up, an intense wave of emotions that you seem to pass through, and you can hardly bring yourself to react. All you can hear is the sound of moaning and skin against skin and the heat seems to make its way up to your head, making you warm and fuzzy. Jungkook gently pulls at your face, lifting you up and bringing you to him so that he can smash his lips onto yours and all you can taste is bitter liquor, you, and him, but that doesn’t stop him from sucking on your lower lip even when you pull apart to moan and gasp.

“T-Tae,” You sob. “Fuck, Tae, I━I’m c━close━”

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he murmurs. “Let me hear you.”

You shake your head frantically at the sensitive sting between your legs still raw from your orgasm from Jungkook, shutting your eyes. Taehyung’s hands find their way onto your hips and he pulls you down his length until you’re balls deep and pauses. He lifts your hips and you can feel him twitch inside you that it even makes your own thighs tremble and shake. You’re sure you’ll collapse on him if he doesn’t hold onto you and he must realize this too because he grips your hips tight to continue thrusting into you. Soon you’re tumbling towards your high. Taehyung’s pumps are frantic, growing sloppy with each passing second, as he pushes you to yours and his high. The coil snaps in your stomach again and you’re in a moment of freefall where you’re stunned by the wave of pleasure. Then, Taehyung is bringing you back down to reality with his hard thrusts, the way he moans, and the lewd wet sounds of him pumping himself into you.

“Ah, T-Tae━” You whimper. “So good, fuck━”

His name falls from your lips in a repeated mantra. You crumble beneath him, collapsing entirely against Jungkook, who’s brushing your hair away from your face. You’re shaking with each touch, your walls pulsing around Taehyung and clenching hard. He moans and curses behind you and you know he must be close to his high because he, too, is fumbling for it. His thrusts are even more hasty and soon he’s reaching his climax. His moans increase in volume and his thrusts become sloppier until he finally pulls his cock from your walls and nearly collapses against your back.

With his hand clenched tightly around his shaft, he jerks himself off until he’s releasing onto your back in white hot spurts. He’s panting hard, sweat coating his forehead, but he takes the time to press chaste kisses along your back and shoulders as the two of you attempt to calm your shrill hearts. It’s silent in the room for a moment despite your panting breaths. Taehyung takes a moment to grab his discarded shirt and wipe at the mess he’s made before he collapses next to you at long last with a huff of air. You moan wearily, rolling off of Jungkook to lay on your back between the two.

“God, you’re amazing,” Taehyung sighs.

You giggle up at the boy and lean towards him to kiss. His fingers rake in your hair and a few silent seconds pass before you’re nearly back to an even breathing pace. That’s when you notice Jungkook, his hand gripped tightly around his still painfully hard dick.

“Jungkook,” You pur his name, catching his attention. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he quips.

“It’s your turn,” Taehyung points out. Jungkook glances at Taehyung and then down at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“W-Well, I just thought━” Jungkook stammers. “I just thought you’ve had enough. It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“I call bullshit again,” You scoff.

“Baby girl,” Taehyung hums, “do you want Jungkookie to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly but Jungkook doesn’t seem too convinced, or maybe he’s hesitant. Taehyung’s eyeing him closely, curiously, before he gaps. He bursts out into a fit of chuckles, earning both yours and Jungkook’s attention.

“Shit, of course,” Taehyung grins. “He’s probably gonna let go the minute he’s in you. You’re close, hm?”

“Only because she’s already been down on me,” Jungkook grumbles.

“You know that’s not it,” Taehyung replies. “You’ve been wanting this forever.”

Jungkook’s eyes suddenly darken as he glares at the older boy. “Taehyung.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, turning to gawk at both.

“Jungkook has a little crush on you,” Taehyung smirks. “This is all he’s ever wanted. I bet he’ll bust a nut the second he fucks you and he’s embarrassed.”

You gasp as you turn to face Jungkook who looks entirely disgruntled but you’re more shocked about the fact that Jungkook likes you than anything else. Jungkook, notoriously arrogant fuckboy, who’s seemingly made it his mission to give you a headache every waking moment by trying to flirt with you. And maybe you’ve always sort of known it; maybe you’ve always sort of felt the same.

“That’s not true!” Jungkook protests. “I━I━ Well, Tae hardly finishes when he’s with another girl. He’s jacked off to the thought of you before, too━”

Taehyung starts. “Fuck off━”

You’re stuck between the bickering boys, staring up at both of them with a dumbfounded expression. Before either boy can strangle the other, you’re speaking up and interrupting them.

“I don’t mind,” You say. “I’m just… surprised.”

Both boys are silent now, aggravated probably, and you giggle. You reach up to rake your fingers in Taehyung’s hair and then look up at Jungkook, using your other hand to grab onto his chin once more and force him to face you.

“Come here, you idiot,” You drawl. “I want you to fuck me. Wanna feel your dick.”

Jungkook seems taken aback but then his eyes are sweeping down your body and he writhes in his seat. Before he can protest, you’re pulling him down onto you to kiss. It’s passionate and rough but hot altogether as your lips smack against one anothers. Jungkook’s desperate situation seems to hit him again, especially when you snake one of your hands down to his length and wrap your fingers around him to jerk him off. He pulls apart from you, gulping.

“Fuck, okay, okay,” he gasps. “I need to be in you right now, please.”

You and Taehyung smirk as Jungkook shifts around on the bed to kneel between your legs. He pauses, glancing up at you once more and noting the way you bite your lower lip seductively, before finally pushing himself in. He goes slow, but not as gradual as Taehyung. You can still feel him stretching you open and he groans. He seems to slide the rest of the way in with a lewd squelch sound because of just how wet you are and then he’s buried balls deep, fitting so snug within you.

“Holy shit,” he whines. “You weren’t kidding, Tae. She feels amazing.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “What does she feel like? Let her know, Kookie.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut momentarily to focus. “Wet,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Warm, tight ━ fuck, so tight.”

He marvels at the feeling, wonders how you can still clench so tightly around him despite being stretched wide by Taehyung. He bows his head to rest in the crook of your neck and moans. His words are enough to spur on your own reaction and you whimper against him.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook━”

The sensitivity you feel in your core met with his hard cock makes you cringe but simultaneously pleases you and you’re bucking your hips for more. He groans at the feeling, his hands flying down to grip your hips. He’s big, stretching you wide, but you feel anything but pain except for the sharp burning sensation as the intensity of your past orgasms start to hit you. He rolls his hips back and then thrusts into you so hard that you yelp and jerk back on the bed.

“Go easy on her, Jungkook,” Taehyung admonishes. “She’s not a doll.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook sighs, nipping at your throat. “You just feel so good, Y/N.”

“I’m okay,” You reassure. You feel his length twitch within you and your head lolls back. “Fuck, I feel more than okay.”

“Can we try something?” Taehyung asks.

He receives two weak nods in response. Jungkook pauses, shifts the two of you until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips, his dick never once slipping from your core. The older boy grabs onto you and yanks you onto his hips.

“What do you say we give Y/N the pleasure she deserves?” he asks. He pushes his length past your folds and is rewarded by the sound of your moans as your jaw unhinges. “Think you can handle both of us, baby?”

“Fuck, yes,” You gasp.

Jungkook seems just as enticed by this. He’s careful as he pushes his cock into you and your reaction is explosive. With Taehyung already stretching you wide, you wonder how Jungkook will fit but it’s snug and perfect. You can feel him stretching you further, inch by glorious inch, and he hasn’t even begun moving when your walls clench around the two of them. Taehyung hisses in your ear and Jungkook pauses at once, sputtering for air, giving you time to adjust. When Jungkook pushes himself further into your cunt, rubbing against Taehyung’s cock and your own walls, you can’t help the delicious moan that falls from your lips.

“Oh my god,” You whimper. “Fuck, fuck, that feels so fucking good━”

It’s such a sticky, hot mess, and all you can hear is the sound of guttural moans and grunts. You jut your hips forward, a silent plea for something more. Jungkook’s hand grasps at your ass and then he’s pulling out. He growls suddenly, thrusting his hips forward and the sensation suddenly overwhelms you. As he picks up a pace that leaves you breathless, Taehyung slowly thrusts into you and the pleasure becomes too much. Your hands reach out to grab at anything, fingers digging eagerly into Jungkook’s chest, Taehyung’s sides.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook grunts. His face is scrunched in pleasure and concentration, his mouth hanging open.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung growls. “You like being stretched wide like this, huh? Such a good girl too. Fuck━”

He’s sweating, but so are you, and all you can hear is the sound of yours and the boys’ moans, the vulgar wet slap with each thrust Jungkook makes. It’s only amplified with each small leisurely thrust Taehyung makes into your throbbing pussy, his dick rubbing against Jungkook’s with each thrust. Your walls tighten around Jungkook and Taehyung as the seconds pass and you know you’re already close to your third orgasm of the night but you try to hold off despite the room spinning. All you can do is lay there for Jungkook to ravish and control, for Taehyung to enjoy, too caught up in the moment. Your breasts bounce wildly with each thrust Jungkook makes and his gaze seems fixated on your chest before flickering down to watch himself disappear inside you each time. Taehyung is raking his fingers through your hair, soothing you through your next climax and it’s close.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, panting hard. “I’m not gonna last.”

You push your hips forward as if to probe him on and he growls.

“No, shit, let me enjoy this, baby,” he whines. “Ah, so tight━”

He’s grumbling to himself, cursing under his breath and you smirk tiredly. Jungkook leans his head down to kiss at your chest, catching one of your nipples in his warm mouth. His tongue swishes back and forth over the perked bud and your chest arches into his face. Your fingers are clutching tight at his hair even as he obeys and adds more force with each thrust, slowly picking up his pace. His mouth widens and he sinks lower on your breast, humming against you in pleasure. Taehyung’s own pace quickens. It’s not as relentless as Jungkook’s but he makes sure to help aid you to your high, ramming his hips into yours until both their cocks slip into a seamless pattern. All you can focus on is the crude wetness, the way their dicks threaten to slip from your hold at how sloppy and wrecked your cunt becomes.

“Ah, yes,” You hiss. “Fuck, yes, yes━ So good, oh my god━ Right there━”

Your voice is cut off by a loud moan. You feel the familiar wave hit you once more and this time you hardly have any strength to fight it off or welcome it.

“I can’t━” You wail suddenly. “Fuck, I can’t━ I’m gonna cum━”

You’re fumbling for words to warn him that you’re close before you’re cuming around them. Their names wrench from your throat in no discernible pattern, accompanied by vulgar curses. Your body writhes between the two boys, your chest arching into his mouth, your legs tightening around Jungkook’s waist.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Jungkook coos. “Come on, wanna feel you cream all over us━”

Stars form behind your eyelids and explode into galaxies as they swirl down your spine and to the tip of your toes, making them and your fingers curl in delight. Your vision grows blurry and tears stream down your face at the build up of pressure finally being released for the third time and you can’t help it when your mantra turns into delighted sobs and whimpers. You’re clenched so tight that Jungkook feels as if he hardly has any space to move and the confinement of his length has him gasping. He pulls apart from your breast to watch your scrunched up face with hooded eyes. He moans again, and desperately leans down to suck at your jawline.

You’re too spent to keep up with him or Taehyung as he helps you further to your high but you know Jungkook is close when his thrusts become messy, quick spurts. You gasp each time he thrusts up into you until he’s finally cuming.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Gonna cum━ Gonna let us fill you up, baby?”

“Please, please, wanna feel it,” You mewl.

He slams his hips into yours and stills for a moment as he releases into you in one hot wave and emits a beautiful moan of your name. You’re panting hard even as he rides out both your highs with a few more incredibly sloppy pumps before he finally collapses against your chest. The two of you are struggling to catch your breaths, your heart beating in your ears.

The room is silent, blissful, and it takes you a few moments of basking in it before you’ve regained your breath. Your fingers rake in Jungkook’s soft and sweaty hair and you hum in content. His mouth presses a few open mouthed and hot kisses along your neck and jawline before connecting with your own mouth. This time, the kiss is chaste and you smile against his lips before he’s pulling out of you. You moan at the missing feeling of his warmth and the way his own cum leaks from your core, down Taehyung’s cock, and your own thighs.

But Taehyung isn’t done. He thrusts up into you to ride out his own high, pushing Jungkook’s release back into you. His pace is steady, deep, and all you can both do is moan and gasp for air.

“Fuck, Tae,” You rasp tiredly. “Cum for me, baby.”

The boy gasps for air, nearly fumbling behind you to reach his high. “Gonna make this pussy mine. Fuuck━”

When Taehyung finally reaches his own high, it’s in another sticky stream of hot cum, each fluid mingling with the other in a pitiful mess. He pulls his slackened length from you and you whimper at sudden the loss, core and legs aching. As you slide onto the bed between the two tired and breathless boys, Jungkook wipes at your glistening core with a shirt and you sigh in content.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” You gasp, earning a chuckle from both. Jungkook lets out a boisterous laugh and you flick his arm. “If you say anything dumb, we’re never having a round two.”

“Round two?” he asks, wriggling his brows. “You want this to happen again?”

You nod, though you can already start to feel yourself succumb to sleep as it creeps upon you. “What do you think, Tae?”

“I think,” The older boy hums, “that’s your best idea yet.”

Jungkook seems surprised, excited even, and you smile sleepily. Taehyung throws his arm over your waist and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping you in his arms as he slips off to sleep.

Before you fall asleep that night, you snake your arm up Jungkook’s chest and let your hand rest against his beating heart which you can still feel beating shrilly even long after your messy night together.

You awake to the familiar sound of your alarm.

It’s loud, annoying, and jolts you awake only to toss you into a haze of muddled confusion and an incredibly terrible hangover. Your head throbs and your body aches. Sunlight splashes in from the closed blinds and illuminates your face, making you squint.

“Turn that off, Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Taehyung snaps, his voice muffled and aggravated.

Your mind is too groggy to realize he’s sleeping next to you, too groggy to suddenly remember what happened the night before. Until, of course, you feel your limbs tangled with not only Taehyung’s but another’s. When you crane your neck to look, you see Jeon Jungkook splayed out beside you sleeping peacefully and you gasp.

The events of the night before suddenly flood your mind and everything is hazy up until your wild time with the two boys. Your muddled sober mind alerts your heart and suddenly it’s beating hard and fast in your chest as you register the situation. You’re used to waking up with a naked Taehyung by your side but never were you used to waking up next to a naked Taehyung and Jungkook.

Jungkook stirs in his sleep then and you curse silently, diving for your phone on the floor before realizing your drastic mistake. Your core is still tender and your legs feel so delicate, nearly caving in beneath you as you wobble precariously. Somehow, you manage to grab your phone and tap the snooze button hastily. Taehyung’s still half asleep on his side but Jungkook lays on his back and you’re surprised to see him looking up at you with a quirked eyebrow and a tiny smirk.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” You hiss. “Holy shit, that wasn’t a dream?”

You gnaw on your lower lip and reach down blindly to grab the nearest article of clothing on the floor (one of Taehyung’s shirts) to toss over your bare body. To soothe your aching muscles, you resort to kneeling on the edge of the bed.

“It wasn’t,” Taehyung murmurs.

“Nice to know you think our dicks are dream worthy though,” Jungkook snorts. “So when’s our round two?”

Your promise from the night before dawns on you all too suddenly and, though you feign your usual annoyance for both boys, the potential prospect of another night with the two of them thrills you to no end.

“I━ I━” You stammer.

“Come back here, baby,” Taehyung muses. “It’s too early to be up right now. You can sleep a bit longer before you pretend you hate the both of us.”

Your eyes flicker down to your phone to check the time: 6 a.m. You can barely walk, let alone function this early in the morning, even without the added stress of your hangover, and sleep seems far too appealing to ignore. Maybe you can stay for a few more hours…

“Fine,” You grumble. You crawl back between them and wiggle around until you’re laying back on the bed. “But you’re making me that cup of coffee when I wake up, Taehyung.”

“Anything else, princess?” Taehyung grins.

“Maybe run me a bath too,” You wince as you settle back against the bed. “Everything hurts.”

“Will do,” Jungkook says. “Gotta do the most to make sure we get that second round. Now, come here━”

The boys snicker and, soon, the three of you have slipped back into a peaceful slumber.

You know that when you wake you’ll profusely deny that the night before and the morning after had ever happened; that you’ll never again find yourself in either Jungkook’s or Taehyung’s bed, much less with the both of them at the same time ━ but you find that you never really listen much to rules anyway.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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sukirichi · 3 years ago

Text

reckless [01.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. explicit smut, accidental pregnancy, playboy! gojo, slight angst

✘ note. dedicated to wifey @7tsumurai who also made the banner and always supports me and showers me with love aaaa i love you baby <3 also this fic is mostly romance and fluff so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! thank you to @chosonore for pr-ing UWU. and we get like...10-15 chapters of this?!

one ✘ two ✘ three

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The night was young; streaks of gold flashing with the shimmering jewellery collared on your neck, the romantic humming of the violins pairing perfectly with the champagne that fizzed in your hand. It was supposed to be another day at work where you accompanied your boss to one of his events, considering the Casanova refused to bring his girlfriends in fear they might get the wrong idea he liked them outside the bed. It should be just another day at work; you’ve accompanied him hundreds of times before. Today wasn’t any different.

And yet it was.

You blamed it on the alcohol. On the slow dancing. On the fact he hadn’t stopped complimenting you all night and you’d been so stressed, the amount of planning and sleepless nights sacrificed in exchange of preparing for this event made you grab for three more flutes, the touch of your undeniable attractive boss permanent on your waist.

Satoru was equally aggravated. You’d worked him long enough to recognize even the smallest of cues, and the fact you’d spend nearly every hour of the day working with him for weeks straight in the office let you know he needed to let off some steam.

And what better way to relieve both of your tensions if not to give in to the cloud of lust?

The sultry gazes, the clashing perfumes between rose and musk, and the alcohol – the fucking alcohol – that gave way to you succumbing to your desire just this once.

There were no more thoughts – or if there were, they were muddled – as you kissed him back just as passionately, forgetting the fact his stylist spent an hour gelling his hair back to perfection as your eager fingers traced over his scalp. How you ended up in the back of limousine was beyond you, and neither was it your biggest concern when Satoru insisted you kept your heels on; his large hands caressing all the way from the ankle pressed beside his waist up to your waist.

You felt his daft fingers move the lacy thong you wore especially for tonight (not because you expected something, but the boost in confidence felt necessary) before he slides inside almost too easily.

Both your gasps and moans are swallowed in the stuffy compartment, windows fogged saved for the handprint you’d left when he hit a sensitive spot. He was moaning in your neck, skin slippery and sweaty as you slid from one another, seemingly never staying from one place as your hands treaded through his hair down to rake your nails on his back; his touch angry on your hips before his thumb found home in your clit.

As much as you hated him, hated his reputation, you couldn’t deny he really earned his title for being an absolute god in sex. You were no virgin, but you’d never felt this good, never felt this alive as bruises began to form in your skin and his lips hungrily sought out yours.

“S-Sir...”

“Satoru,” he corrected through your lips, the kiss barely even one when you were too busy moaning left and right. Satoru hitched your leg up to fold it right beside your waist, allowing him to explore deeper territories that not even you could mark.

His stare on you is perverted; openly wanton as he lets his empyrean gaze snake down to where your bodies connected. It was embarrassing to be this spread wide open for him, though it didn’t matter much, not when you clutched onto his bicep for dear life and panted breathlessly. He was kissing you everywhere – smearing your lipstick all over your lips and his, a stain of red on his hard, white collar and love bites marked deep into your collarbones and under your breasts. You tightened around him once he changed his rhythm into a more sensual one; the quick pace replaced with him pulling out slowly – inch by delicious inch until you felt empty with each growing second – before slamming back inside with fervidity that he never quite possessed behind his desk.

He groaned at your walls clenching down on him, his hips stuttering in the process. “Call me Satoru.”

“Satoru,” you moaned out, and his next sounds were pained. Pained because you sounded too gorgeous, felt too good, and with you following his hips thrust by thrust, neither of you would last any longer. Not even as you shake your head, lips swollen as you remind him, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We shouldn’t,” he agreed with a curled lip, sweat beading from the streaks of his white hair. “But I want you – god, you’re so beautiful tonight. Need to fuck you good—”

Gojo Satoru, one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire South East Asia and ranked as the second richest man in his early twenties, was a man of his word despite his reputation. Just as he was praised and fawned over for his beauty, charisma, and power, he was equally hated for breaking the hearts of women and treating his past ‘lovers’ like they were objects. The news were so confident of it; that he fooled them, played around with them, but behind the scenes, you knew Satoru wouldn’t do such a thing – from the first time he laid his eyes on someone, he made it extremely clear they were not to be attached. Everything with him was physical and sensual – anything beyond that would simply be out of character.

You weren’t surprised that he really did keep his word and fuck you good, because you couldn’t feel your legs the next morning and even though it had been hours, you still very much felt the shape of him carve through you.

The bastard wouldn’t stop laughing, of course, snickering under his breath every now and then each time he saw you grimace from doing simple things such as standing up and giving him the files he asked for. Perhaps it was because your dislike for him was apparent that Satoru quickly went back to fooling around, pretending you didn’t exist and only approaching you when need be. There were still moments you had to clean his mess up for him; taking his drunken phone calls at 3am because he got wasted in a bar, or doing the same for his current sex buddy who he didn’t want to stay in his home.

He was terrible, terribly awful that you despised this part of him.

You were only grateful enough that neither of you brought that night up ever again, for no matter how immensely hellish of an experience it had been, it was also something you’d really rather not be reminded of.

But now, there was no more running away from it. The truth stared at you blatantly in the form of two white lines that had appeared four times already from previous tests.

You were pregnant.

The world had never been that heavy on you. You had a rough upbringing, but it was a household filled with love and patience that it was innate in your nature to keep strong, be levelled, continue moving forward even during the times it felt like everyone and everything was going against you. You’d been through so much worse and you can do this, but you still couldn’t stop the tears that pushed from your eyes, your heart shattering the same time you dropped the stick.

“No, we won’t cry, it’s okay. I can handle this – I’m strong,” you repeated to yourself like a mantra, taking deep breaths to stabilize yourself. Clearly, this was unexpected, but you wanted to do your best, had to do your best. You didn’t have time to lose your composure, so you quickly fished your phone out your purse to dial the person you trusted the most.

“Rei...?”

Your best friend picked up on the second dial. “Sweetheart, where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for like hours now and you’re not picking up, I heard you called in sick for work and you never do that even when you’re about to pass out!” Some shuffling could be heard from the background before she spoke again, her tone a lot more gentle in response to your muted sniffles. “Is there something going on? Do you need me to drop by there right now? Tell me what you need; I’ll be there right away.”

“No, no, Rei, it’s fine, I just...”

“Sweetie,” she sighed, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see it. Rei had been there for you in everything, starting from when you newly arrived in the city; fresh-eyed and hopeful for new opportunities. She’d been there when you first complained your boss was a creepy flirt, all the way until you’d made peace with said boss and remained firm in your boundaries. But those boundaries had clearly been crossed – no, rather, you erased those boundaries. You were drunk enough to give in to the need to be touched, but sober enough to consent to everything that happened. You couldn’t place this all on him.

“I’m pregnant,” you said eventually, voice barely above a whisper as you added, “And Satoru’s the father.”

Rei stopped munching on her – you assume – bagel.

“Satoru? Gojo Satoru, your boss, bonafide casanova, the face on billboards and one of the most “eligible” bachelors in the country, billionaire Gojo Satoru?” she let out in one breath, the image of her flipping her hand out in the air in disbelief as clear as day. “Am I really hearing this right? I’m not going crazy, am I?”

You sighed.

“We were drunk. I slept with him.”

“Did that bastard force himself on you?”

“No, gosh, never,” you defended with widened eyes, sitting back down on the toilet with the lid now closed. You couldn’t look at the tests even if you dared yourself to, the plastic bag concealed in the garbage or else you’d feel sick all over again. “I-I wanted it too...we just got carried away and the night was just...I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me and why I did that, but there’s no point in fretting about it because I’m carrying his baby now.”

“Well,” she started unsurely, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m keeping it. There’s no way I would even consider abortion.”

“But what about him?”

The back of your head throbbed in pain. Just thinking about his stupidly handsome face made you want to throw up once more. “I don’t really want to tell him, but he has a right to know that he’s going to be a father.”

“Will he even take responsibility for it?”

You swallowed nervously, nibbling on your thumbnails before snatching your hand away. Composure was something you didn’t struggle with; you were the more reliable one in the duo of you and Satoru, but you had a bad habit of picking on your nails whenever you were anxious. Had it not been for Satoru flicking your nails away from your mouth each time you dazed out a little bit, you would’ve never gotten rid of the habit, but it all came crashing back down on you in an instant.

A heavy knot formed in your belly.

“Most likely not, I know how he’s like. He loves his single life so much that he’d never allow to be tied down like this. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he tells me he doesn’t want it.”

“What an asshole!”

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t need him in my life,” you reinstated, finally feeling more confident the longer you talked to Rei. She was your instant hype machine in more ways than one; her presence itself gave you the reassurance you could handle everything your way. With hope blooming in your chest, you picked yourself of the toilet and wiped away your tears. You could do this – you can handle this. Not just for you, but this baby growing in you as well.

“In our life. I’m more than capable of taking care of the baby myself,” you told her, gaze hard and determined as your sunken reflection stared back at you in the mirror. Sighing, you shook your head and pictured Satoru’s face, already picturing a thousand ways this could go wrong. Only one way to find out.

“I have to go now. He needs to hear about this and then I’ll resign. Probably move back home – anywhere that’s away from him.”

“Doesn’t the baby deserve to meet their dad?”

“Their dad doesn’t even want to be one,” you muttered bitterly and threw your sweater back on, refusing to kick yourself around any harder. Now wasn’t the time to be illogical; you were now a mother and had to be responsible now more than ever. But first, you needed some well-deserved rest after endless agonizing of missing your period, along with the baby drop that until now, had shook you to your core. “I’ll call you back, Rei. I’m very tired.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” Humming in response, you ended the call and crawled back to bed.

It wasn’t that you felt lonely, but you didn’t feel particularly belonging anywhere. You were far from home in a city that felt like the future, and each day you come home, it was mostly just a place to rest before you went back to work the next day. It was a dull, empty routine that you’d gotten used to, but never had it sunk deep into you that you did felt completely hollow.

But not anymore.

You were with your baby now, and as much as it scared you shitless to be a mother with zero preparation and knowledge, you were confident things were going to be okay.

Wrapping an arm around your belly, you had the best sleep you’d had in years.

You’d just have to worry about tomorrow. Hopefully, and you quite prayed harder than you ever did before, Satoru would let you go and keep things less complicated than it already was.

“No,” Satoru shook his head, his words dropping like a heavy boulder in the middle of nowhere. You stood in front of him shock still, hands wrung solid beneath your belly. Satoru merely shook his head, brushing back his gelled hair with a dry laugh. “No, what are you even thinking? You’re not resigning.”

You pursed your lips. “I wasn’t really asking for permission, Sir.”

Truth be told, you expected this sort of reaction from him. It may be true that you and Satoru never got along in personal levels since he was too crass and you much stiff, but it couldn’t be denied you worked well together. You balanced each other’s flaws and brought out the best in one another. If someone had asked you years ago prior to you being employed by the heir if you could even tame the renowned free spirited man, you would’ve said probably not, but after sharing struggles and quite literally forcing one another to do better, you both reached highs neither expected to achieve.

It was an experience and a whole lot lessons learned working with him.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end, and you had to leave even if Satoru negated to it.

“We’ve been working together for years. Do you know how many people I fired and have resigned all because they’re not equipped for the job?” he plopped down atop his desk, loosening his tie out of frustration. The simple gesture made you swallow and look away – it felt impossible to look at him any other way than a boss now that you had his baby inside you. Thankfully, Satoru was mouthy as usual that he pulled you back from your train of thoughts as he gestured between the both of you. “You and I are perfectly compatible – I can’t let you go like that. I’m sorry, but I need you. There’s no one else I can work with this functionally. No one else is as willing to tolerate my bullshit except you and...I need you to stay.”

You clenched your teeth at the desperation in his voice.

Satoru admitting he needed people was one thing. But him asking others to stay? It may have just been for your value as the only person who had put up with him in both his best and worst times that made him feel that way, but you had to keep your foot down on the ground.

You wouldn’t let him sway you like this.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and willed all your energy to spring forth. “Sir...I’m more than thankful for all the opportunities, it truly was a pleasure working with you but—”

“Is this because we slept together?” he cut you off, your shoulders tensing. Upon your silence, Satoru heaved himself away from the desk and took cautious step towards you, stopping a foot away when you stepped back defensively.

You almost wished you didn’t know him so well. His eyes shone with a flicker of hurt before he masked it just as quick as it had came – for Gojo Satoru was a master of many things, and a great actor was one of them. Cautious, you had to be cautious, and you clenched your fists behind your pencil skirt as you tore your gaze away from his pleading ones. “It is, isn’t it?” he affirmed with a clear of his throat, looking just as lost as you did. Satoru stuttered for a minute before he eventually composed himself, but even then, he didn’t sound half as sure as he wanted to be.

“Listen, whatever happened that night, we can forget about it if you want. We’re both adults and professionals – we can put this aside us and just go back to normal. You don’t have feelings for me, right? So then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Satoru...it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, aggravated. Satoru began to round his desk and pulling out little white envelopes, stacking them before you in a haste. “Do you want a pay raise? A new car so you could get to work easily? O-or perhaps a bigger house where you can work more comfortably, somewhere nearer to the office? All you have to do is tell me and I’ll give you what you want. There’s no need for you to resign, this company has given you everything and we’ve got so much offer just as you could still be great—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Satoru’s slender fingers halted around the pen hovering over a cheque slip. “What?”

“I said I’m pregnant,” you exhaled, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from quivering. A quick sweep from your face to gather sincerity trailed down to your belly, staring at you hard enough as if he had the ability to look through your soul. “And you’re the father.”

“Is that true? Is...is it really mine?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, “I’m not telling you this because I expect that you’ll be responsible for it. No offense, sir, but I’d really rather raise the baby alone. Plus, I understand that you’ll never settle down or suddenly abandon your old ways just to—”

“Stop right there,” he raised a palm, “You mean to tell me you’re resigning because you thought I wouldn’t take responsibility for it? For you?”

The hurt in his voice and expressions were evident, lip curled in disgust; not for you, but rather of himself. Satoru was the type of man that couldn’t be withered down even with the harshest of rumours; you’d never seen him be affected before by tabloids and nasty ex-girlfriends who only slept with him for money or fame, only to talk smack about him afterwards. But now, he was crumbling before you, and you didn’t know quite what to say or feel over the vulnerability present in his cerulean eyes. It almost pained you know that you caused this – for the comforting, blue sky to be tainted with a thunderstorm that hinted of anger, of disappointment, of betrayal.

But could he blame you for not thinking the best of him?

“I’ve worked with you for years, sir, I know you.”

“Clearly not well enough,” he chuckled sarcastically, “Admittedly, I’m surprised, but not upset. The only thing that I’m upset about is that you actually believed it would be better to raise the baby – our baby – alone like I don’t even have a right to be in their life. Sure, it was an accident, but we made that. That’s our child and I’m going to take care of you and be a great father, even if you don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean—”

“That’s the first time you said something stupid. That’s our baby. We’re a family now,” Satoru’s hesitance had vanished into thin air as he was on you the next instant, hands shaky before they landed on your shoulders. It was meant to be a comforting gesture; a reassuring one, yet you couldn’t help but flinch and falter under his gaze. As if getting the message, he quickly retracted his hands and shoved them deep inside his pockets with a sigh. “You don’t need to resign or worry about anything else. I promise I’ll give you both the life you deserve, just...just please don’t go. Now that I know we have a baby, there’s just no way I can let go of this and pretend I never heard of this at all.”

You swallowed, rubbing your sweaty palms on your skirt.

Out of all the different scenarios you stayed up late at night to turning your head in one by one, none of them included this. Undeniably, he was an asshole to most, but maybe he was right.

He hadn’t done anything wrong to you and he was still the father of your baby; he deserved a chance. Satoru had the right to be the father he was willing to be. You could already tell this might completely turn into one big mess, but his eyes were so hopeful, his smile so nervous yet expectant that you couldn’t help but say –

“Okay,” you relented.

His reaction was instantaneous. Satoru beamed and lounged at you, arms wide open for an embrace before realizing at the last second you could stab him with a pen and not regret it. One warning glare sent his way and he was retracing his arm behind his head, pretending to stretch with an off-tune whistle.

The sudden switch between pained and enthusiastic gave you whiplash, but you really shouldn’t be surprised. This was Gojo Satoru in the first place – he was as unpredictable as nothing was permanent and lasting to him.

It could be both a blessing and a curse.

For the sake of your baby, you genuinely hoped it was the former.

Not wanting him to get too ahead of himself since you still didn’t trust him enough, you raised a finger to poke him in the chest. Right now, you were no longer his secretary that openly despised him but added six sugar cubes in his coffee just as he liked anyway, but rather a woman who shared this mess with him, and as the mother of his child. You had to be strong. Being with Satoru felt like playing with fire, and you had far too much at stake – both of you did – but you weren’t privileged and fortunate like Satoru. One bad thing thrown his way could be brushed off, but for you? Everything you worked hard for could disappear just like that.

If you really chose now to play with fire, you had to be careful not to be the gasoline that ignited things to burn down into ashes.

“Satoru,” you stressed with your lips pressed into a thin line, “The only thing I expect from you is to be is a good father to our child. I know that it would be difficult for you to be a new person in a day and that your old habits won’t die right away, so please do what you can to be a good parent, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way of your life as well.”

His smile slowly vanished.

“Is that how low you really think of me?” he echoed rather sadly, “That I would still sleep around knowing I’ve got a family now?”

“We’re not a family, Sir. I have no intentions of marrying you nor would I ever want it. I’m just staying for the baby.”

“Fine. For the baby, let’s both do our best,” he crossed his arms on his chest, pumping out the hard muscles from how tight his shirt was. You were stuck between wanting to slap him or be closer to him; the hormones too much of a mess that you had to grip your thigh for restraint. “But tomorrow, you’re moving in with me. I’m going to take care of you from now on – I’ll get you whatever you need so whatever it is, just tell me. My credit card is yours to use as well.”

Move in with him? You wanted to laugh. That was the last thing you would want to happen.

“Sir, it’s fine, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but I want to take care of you both,” he reiterated, growing slightly annoyed from your rigidness. You professed that you were being difficult right now, but it was much better than being easy around someone like him.

“We don’t have to be friends or lovers, alright? I know you don’t see me that way and I’m probably repulsive in your eyes – which is understandable since you always clean my mess up for me – but as a father, at least, let me do my job. There doesn’t have to be anything between us other than a mutual want to be good parents. Is that alright with you?”

You mulled the thought over in your head. So he was capable of being sensible sometimes, and after a few moments of silence, you narrowed your eyes at him.

Still suspicious and your guard was most definitely still up, but he was right. You both had a mutual want to be good parents and that was the most important thing right now. Everything else that complicated matters would be handled afterwards.

“I’m okay with that, but I would have to set down lots of boundaries if I’m living with you.”

“So you’ll really stay with me then?” You regretted nodding in response because Satoru was now fishing his phone out, a goofy smile on his face.

He took the news...surprisingly well, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Perfect! I’ll have your room prepared!” You tried to grab his arm to stop him from going overboard; knowing full well Satoru always had rushes in which he impulsively overdoes things. He might turn your room into some sort of grand suite that you wouldn’t really like, but he was far too excited and lost in his own thoughts that your words went from one ear and out the other. “Fuck,” he laughed to himself, “I’m going to be a dad.”

Whether it was relief or anxiety that bubbled through you, you had no idea.

It was definitely anxiety.

Satoru felt like a hyper child to be around, and as much as you were grateful that he was happy about this, you also wished he would calm down. You didn’t even have enough chance to settle in before he’s shoving you inside room by room, announcing that what was his was also yours and he would have a baby room set up next week.

You followed him around like a puppy as he marched into the kitchen, mumbling incoherently to himself about baby proofing furniture.

“Sir,” you called out, “Sir, listen to me. We need to talk about boundaries.”

Satoru blinked owlishly at your tired eyes, sheepishly smiling at you. It must’ve dawned on him that his speed tour of his penthouse felt a lot more overwhelming than welcoming, and he sat you down on the island stools before drumming his fingers impatiently on the cool marble. “Sorry, you were saying? I kind of got carried away.”

Carried away was far an understatement.

“I said, we need to talk about boundaries.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he paused with a furrow in his brow. “Also can you just call me Satoru? We’re going to be parents anyway and it’s awkward if you keep uh, calling me Sir.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really in the mood to argue with him right now. You had to keep intact with him while you still had his full attention. Taking out a little notepad you prepared the night before, you slid it over Satoru who tilted his head to the side rather cutely to read it. “So here are my boundaries. One, I don’t want this pregnancy to be announced in the media unless I’m ready. I understand that we can’t keep this a secret forever but I need time to process this. Two, just because we’re living in the same roof together doesn’t mean that I get to go anywhere and everywhere with you. I’m going to work by myself—”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I said no,” he repeated more firmly this time. “You’re pregnant and I want to make sure you’re safe at all times. I’m driving you to work.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“You’re my secretary. People see us together all the time.”

“But you never drove me to work! I live far from the office and I most definitely don’t drive an Audi.”

“Things change, that’s your life now,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly, stealing the pen you twirled in your hands. The sudden contact sent jolts of electricity from your knuckles, one that had you recanting your hands back to yourself. Satoru didn’t seem to notice as he crosses out the second rule, “Sorry not sorry but I don’t want to let you go places like that. Fine by me if you don’t want me to drive you, but at least have one of the chauffeurs take you somewhere if you really don’t wanna be seen with me.”

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth. Compromise, compromise, meet in the middle – you repeated to yourself to keep your sanity. “Rule number three: I don’t want you changing your attitude around me. We may have a baby on the way, but you’re still my boss and I want to keep our relationship professional.”

“You’re saying I’m not allowed to fall in love with you?”

You flicked his forehead, effectively erasing the teasing grin he wore. “That’s not going to happen,” you interjected irritably, although your heart skip a beat. That was a massive red flag already; you could never be too comfortable with him. For Satoru, his little comments here and there may come naturally and probably meant nothing to him, but there was a chance you could receive it with different interpretations. Shaking your head at him, you ignored his grumblings on how ‘mean’ you were. “We’re never going to be a couple. We’re just raising a child together. I don’t want you acting weird or too comfortable with me.”

Satoru scratched the side of his head as he mulled about it, “Are we allowed to be friends, at least? I understand the professional part, but I can’t imagine the both of us getting along for nine months and more when we act like boss and employee even alone at home,” before you could say anything, Satoru raised his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t do anything weird to you. No offense, but you’re not really my type, so same as you, I view you platonically.”

Right. The heart surely was stupid and confusing.

You didn’t want him getting any ideas that this could lead to something more, but at the same time, it hurt a little to know you weren’t his type.

Hiding that pang of hurt behind a tight lipped smile, you forced yourself to agree with him. “I view you professionally, Sir.”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. “Rule number four: don’t bring home any of your fuck buddies or flavour of the night. I really don’t care if you sleep around, but respect my privacy and my standing as the mother of your childIf you’re really desperate to get your dick wet, go fuck them somewhere else.”

“You’ve never been this vulgar with me.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Despite countless of times that he tried being friendly with you to ease your stiffness in the office, you always shot him down.

You came to the city to work and provide for your family, not to be friends with your annoyingly hot boss who enjoyed his life way too much. Unlike him, you were more work than play, and eventually Satoru respected the fact you would never speak or treat him casually.

Until now.

“Try being in my shoes and see if you’d still have the patience of a saint,” you mumbled under your breath, sighing when Satoru’s smile got more awkward. “Listen, Satoru, I don’t mean to be difficult, okay? It’s just...this is a lot. This isn’t just us about anymore – we’re going to be parents and that’s a huge responsibility. It’s not only our lives changing here, a child will be relying on us in the future and I simply want to be a good mother, but I also don’t trust you very well to be comfortable enough to act like we’re suddenly friends.”

“I understand that.”

“Good.”

“Do you have rule number five?”

“No, not really, but I can add more as we go.”

“I have a rule number five,” he piped in, flipping the notepad his way as he scribbled something down. “And it’s that if you need help – and I mean with anything – you would let me help you. I’ve worked with you for a long time and I’m not dumb enough to not notice you like to do things by yourself. Like you said, things are different now, and especially with this pregnancy, you’re not alone in this. You need to let me take over the wheel sometimes. I can’t be just a passenger in the car – you and I are both in this together.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“That’s easy,” he chirped, and there was that uncomfortable knot in your chest again. However, it didn’t sink in too deep because Satoru was blatantly staring at your belly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So do we have a name for them already?”

“Satoru, I’ve only been a few weeks pregnant, I don’t—”

Conflicting his previous statement that he’d keep his hands to himself, Satoru suddenly dropped to his knees. You watched with wide eyes, too flabbergasted to move as he places his ear on your belly.

“Hi there, little one,” he spoke in a soft tone, large hands caressing the tiny bump beginning to form. You couldn’t move; hell, you could barely breathe from how comforting his touch seemed in contrast to your mind ringing warning bells above. His voice quickly pulled you back to reality as he flattened his palm, white lashes fluttering against the cotton of your shirt. “I’m your daddy; I can’t wait to meet you. Daddy promises to take good care of you and make you the happiest kid ever, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything as long as I’m here.”

“D-don’t spoil them too much, Satoru.”

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled. Satisfied with that small moment he had, he straightened up and trudged over the dining table that was far too big for a man who lived alone. In that moment, an image flashed in your mind – that someday that table would no longer look empty as you and your child shared meals with him. You could already imagine how heavenly the sun would shine on the glass windows behind it, the flowers gathered in the middle of the table blooming to life.

Out of nowhere, it struck you.

Could it be that this was why he loved this baby so much after only knowing about it for a few days? Could it be that Satoru really was alone?

“Okay, we should probably have a welcoming dinner! The chefs left me something tonight. I forgot what it’s called but I think you’ll like it. Grab some wine on the cellar for me?”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, right! My bad,” he clapped his hands together before pulling out ceramics and a cold pitcher, “Just water for mommy then,” Satoru said absentmindedly, completely oblivious to how your mind short-circuited a few feet away from him. He went about his way ignorant to it all and gently tugged you to sit with him, eagerly digging into the heated meals as you realized both of you hadn’t eaten.

For a guy who talked a lot, dinner with him was surprisingly quiet. Other than the occasional clinking of utensils against the plate, you enjoyed the silence with him.

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible since Satoru made it his daily business to always fill in the gaps. Peace and comfort stretched before you the whole time, however, that for a moment, just a short moment, you found yourself letting your guard down. Even when you both caught each other’s in the middle of a bite, you found no tension or awkwardness in it. Perhaps it was the familiarity of being beside each other for years now that this should feel natural, or maybe it was because you both mutually agreed on wanting the best for your baby. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to overcomplicate it right now.

“You know, I’m really excited about this. I can’t believe I’m actually going to be a father,” he mused through a bite, swirling his red wine through his glass. Satoru gazed at his reflection almost dreamily, seemingly too deep in thought that he felt far from reach.

Or maybe you were the one who was detached, the one who kept pushing him away, because you could offer him nothing but a lame nod. “I’m glad to hear that...”

“What about you? You don’t look too happy.”

Your eyes widened at his worry. “No, I-I’m happy, of course. It’s just...it’s unplanned, and I’ve had my whole life planned out that I’m not really sure how this will all fall into place together.”

“Hey,” he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing warmth back into your skin that you hadn’t noticed turned cold from the nerves. Unlike his usual self with eyes brimming with glee, you could only see tenderness in him now, some sort of silent vow through a private smile shared only between the two of you in that moment in the solace of his home. Your home. “I promise I’ll be there for you and the baby every step of the way. I know that I haven’t had the best reputation and I have zero idea on parenting, but you’re not alone in this. You can trust me on this one, just like how we always trusted each other during work. Being a parent and running a business are both responsibilities right?”

“Yeah...”

“Well then you already know we work well together. We’re great partners!” he cheered, patting your shoulder way too bro-like. You resisted the urge to cringe. “We’ll be great parents, Y/N. I’m sure of that.”

Unsure of what else to do, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, you would be great parents as long as both of you never gave up. The thought of eating meals with him again with another addition to the table made you smile, and you hadn’t noticed you were spacing out, thumb running over his knuckles that were smooth for a man who never knew a day of hard labour. It wasn’t until you felt something prodding at you metaphorically, and you chuckled nervously as you saw Satoru smiling mysteriously at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” he grinned, “I’ve just never seen you this close before; not so much that I paid attention anyway. But this is nice – having you here, I mean. It gets lonely here sometimes.”

“Don’t you bring your girlfriends around?”

“I never make them stay,” was all he said, and just like that, whatever thread that was beginning to form snapped. Satoru released his hold on you and gestured to your plate, carrying the dishes in his hand before leaving you alone on the table. Like always – a whiplash. “I’ll clean up, you can rest in your room now. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Do you even know how to do them?”

“Yeah, my mother forced me to wash dishes because she didn’t want me to rely on the house help too much,” he informed, the new information shocking you right to the core as he put on dishwashing gloves and started scrubbing. From this angle, he sure looked damn nice and domestic in just a white shirt, hair ruffled down to bangs. “I’ll be right there with you,” Satoru announces casually, spinning on his heel with red cheeks once he realized what he said. “For just a goodnight, I mean! We’re not sharing rooms!”

“Yeah, no,” you coughed out, “We’re definitely not.”

It felt…surreal, to wake up in a room much grandiose than yours yet felt like home even for the first night. Satoru handled your moving in rather happily; you found him singing to himself this morning as he brewed his own coffee before realizing you were right behind him, sleepy as you lazily made waffles for the both of you. Everything flowed nicely and normally, like this had always been a normal thing that for a moment, you questioned once more what would happen next.

You were now getting ready for work, hands tugging at his tie because he was such a man-child who couldn’t even properly knot his own tie. His suit was custom tailored and he looked effortlessly gorgeous – beauty ripped straight from magazines he was constantly a front page of, but his tie was skewered and loose that it irritated you.

“You’re such a mess without me.”

Satoru bent down to wiggle his brows at you, thought you didn’t notice because he wouldn’t stay still for you to fix his tie fast enough. “Isn’t this sweet; you fixing my tie for me as we both get ready for work?” he teased, “We’re like a married couple already.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m kicking you in the nuts.”

“Then how can I give you more babies?” picking up the newspaper on the coffee table beside you, you rolled it and started whacking him, a string of profanities colorfully painting his otherwise monochrome and sleek walls. Satoru’s laughter boomed all over the room even as he wiggled away from you, clutching his bicep that had been the victim of your abuse. “Ow, ow, I was joking! Jeez, woman, you are strong. Fight men a lot like this?”

“I work with you. My fighting instincts are always activated.”

His laugh really was annoying. But it did help ease your nerves – though you’d never tell him that – as you sat beside him in his car, the expensive leather seats no longer strange to you. It would’ve felt like any other day where you accompanied him somewhere, except the reason was different now, and it came crashing down on you of your current situation that things were undeniably different from now on.

You immediately stepped away from him the moment you got out of the car, clutching your clipboard to your tummy when Satoru bumped his shoulder with yours. “Come closer, it’s fine. No one will suspect a thing,” he points to the crowded building with people bumping and walking past each other, everyone too occupied in their own heads to even notice you.

It wasn’t much, but hearing his voice and reassurances relaxed you, even for just a little bit. Maybe your first day at work after the baby news wouldn’t be so bad, after all, but it seemed you had spoken too early.

Satoru heavily insisted that you worked inside his office from now on.

Your desk was located right outside his office, the phone line always within reach in case you needed to pass calls to him or if he needed you to come. Satoru preferred the privacy of his own space – or so he said; he actually just didn’t want you to witness him slacking around and experience your wrath – but now he was dragging you inside his office, pushing your shoulders down until you were ‘settled in.’

You didn’t even want to ask where he got a new desk from, or why it had to be right across from him. His desk remained elevated on a few levels, the welcoming lobby of the room filled with couches and stacks of coffee with a rich amount of sugar cubes.

Safe to say, most of the morning was spent (or rather, wasted) on you telling Satoru off. The man was too persistent, coming in on the office at random times of the hour with either snacks or heaps of biscuits on his arms. He always greeted you with a wide grin on his face, only to be kicked out of his own office because you had his hellish schedule and events to deal with. That was around three hours ago when you’d asked him to shut up and go bother someone else. You were halfway around finishing your workload for today when the door swung open, a tuft of white hair and mischievous eyes peeking through.

“Hey! Just checking in on mommy—”

“Satoru!”

“What? It’s just you and I,” he defended with a shrug, welcoming himself inside. Surprisingly, he was empty handed, though the pout on his lips told you it was against his will. “Seriously though, do you need anything? Do you want snacks? Tea? Do you need help going to the bathroom? You haven’t moved in your desk for an hour now.”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant, not disabled,” you ignored him for a while, resuming to working back on his schedule for the month. There were a bunch of e-mails you still had to respond to, which normally wouldn’t be such a daunting task if Satoru wasn’t shifting his weight from one foot to another, the sounds of his shoes hitting the tiles in an annoying click-clack rhythm getting to you. “Will you stop fidgeting! Your anxiety gives me anxiety, stop that!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, I just feel like there’s something I should be doing.”

“Shutting up and letting me work in peace would be great, thank you.”

“You really don’t need anything?” Sending him a warning glare, Satoru sucked in his cheeks and ran back to his desk where he hid behind the safety of his large monitor. “Nope, yeah, I got the message: leave you alone. Good luck with that then, I’ll need those archives to pull up for our meeting with the directors later at five.”

Muttering a sarcastic finally under your breath, you resumed working.

The routine was per usual – answer the calls professionally with a welcoming and sweet voice, a pen always in one hand to jot down notes in reminders, adjust his schedules, work out his plans, go to him whenever he needed to sign something before responding back to e-mails. You were focused as you always were, but someone wasn’t, and it was getting harder and harder to keep being placated.

It didn’t help that he made no effort to hide the fact he was slacking off, the tip-taps of him randomly pressing keys on the keyboard similar to a fork dragging down a plate.

“I can feel you burning holes at the back of my head,” you twittered, “What do you need?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just realizing how beautiful you are right now.”

You paused. Unable to deny your curiosity over how serious he sounded, you spun around in your swivel chair. Satoru had his chin on his hands as he stared right back at you, his face devoid of expression that you couldn’t pick up on a single clue. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course the bastard would be teasing you, his loud chuckles a painful reminder of that. It was best to ignore him, so you went back to reading e-mails and forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. “We’re at work. Please stop distracting me; I can’t focus when you’re staring at me like a creep.”

“Sorry, babe, I’ll try to be less distracting next time, though I can’t control my charisma, you know!”

You jotted your thumb to your desk outside, “I can walk back to my desk where you can’t see me. That’d be a great for both of us.”

“Stay right there, I was joking!”

“Do you promise to be quiet and actually do your job if I stay?”

“With you disciplining and ordering me around like that, why not?” Mouth open for another heated retort, Satoru stopped you before you could say anything, his aura more serious this time. He was always like this; fooling around and maturing the next second, only for the cycle to repeat and test your patience. “I’m just teasing you, Y/N, I’ll shut up now. You’re free to end work as soon as you’re tired though; the driver is waiting in the parking lot whenever you want to go home.”

“I’ll go home with you.” Home. It felt weird to say that, but also…natural.

“You’ll stay with me at work today?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and you responded with a one-shoulder shrug. That seemed to be enough for him, however, and it wasn’t long before Satoru found the oh so rare and fleeting motivation to work hard.

Once he was settled, sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms and brows furrowed as he centered all his attention on the pile of paperwork before him, there was no stopping him.

Roles reversed and positions switched, you were now the one unable to take your eyes off him.

In this light, in this moment, Gojo Satoru had never looked more beautiful. He was much the same as you in the manner you never really noticed each other this way before; not romantically, but even just person to person. In your eyes, he was nothing but your irritating boss whose boisterous self always crowded over your peace, and in his eyes, you were nothing but his secretary who he knew always silently hoped would leave you alone.

But things were different now. You were different now.

Boundaries there may be, you couldn’t help that fluttering forming in your stomach. Contentment, happiness, relief, nervousness – all of them jumbled into one big mess. Out of them all, however, there was most definitely adoration, either out of respect for his unexpected kindness, or simply because it felt nice to feel for once.

Turning away from him until your back was the only thing he could see, you hid your smile as you secretly held your belly.

You’d never been reckless before, but what was to be a good story when there wasn’t a mistake or two made?

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