#sounds like some shit napoleon said or something

[oneheadtoanother]

"Yes, the pyramids have been built, but if you give me 300,000 disciplined men and give me 30 years, I could build a bigger one."

- Werner Herzog

[josefavomjaaga]

Elie Baudus about Murat's departure in Posen, 1813

Once more Elie Baudus, former aide-de-camp to Marshal Bessières, in the second volume of his "Etudes sur Napoléon". (Another snippet is here.) This time it’s about Murat deserting leaving the army at Posen in January 1813. I was wondering how Bessières and his staff reacted to this news, especially as Elie makes it sound as if they were there at the time.

Headquarters left Elbing on 11 January to take up residence in Posen. When it reached that town, the King of Naples immediately announced that he was leaving the army on account of his health, either because he was really ill or because his indisposition was due solely to his anxiety about what might happen in his states, during his absence, in the political situation in which Europe was about to find itself. All that could be said to him about the impropriety of taking such a step without the emperor's consent could do nothing to change his mind; he handed over command to the viceroy and left for his capital.

What Elie possibly does not know or at least does not write: Murat had asked for permission to leave the army at least twice, admitting himself that the task was beyond him, and apparently had never even received a reply from Napoleon. And of course it would be interesting to know if Bessières was among those who tried to talk Murat out of his idea and to make him stay on his post, and how Murat reacted to these attempts.

Napoleon's departure had been applauded because the inflexible necessity which forced him to it was understood; [...]

That may be a bit of an exaggeration or generalisation. I understand there was quite some grumbling in the army (Oh, look, he’s pulling another Egyptian exit on us, etc.). Even Elie himself admits that the last remnants of military discipline broke down as soon as Napoleon was gone. There must have been a reason for that.

[…] Murat's departure, on the contrary, aroused strong indignation; this abandonment, in the situation in which the army found itself, was not noble, and it took no less than the great actions which he carried out a few months later at Dresden and Leipsick to weaken the irritation which this conduct had aroused against him in all ranks. Nothing can excuse such a mistake, for even if we consider it only from a political point of view it was enormous. If this prince feared for the preservation of his crown, should he not have considered that it was only within the French army that he could work effectively to consolidate it on his head? That was the key to the vault; if it was missing, it was obvious that all the stones of the edifice would crumble.

The talents and the firmness of character that Prince Eugène had recently displayed in this campaign had already won him the confidence and the attachment of the army; so there was more anger than regret at the news of the change in our general-in-chief. Marshal Bessières was happier than anyone else when it was announced that the emperor was definitively entrusting the viceroy with the power of which he had only been temporarily invested upon the departure of the king of Naples. What, for the Duke of Istria, was both the result of a long-standing attachment rooted in paternal feelings and deeply felt esteem, was dictated to the other chiefs by the latter motive. They all did their best to prove it to this young prince, and we will never forget the interesting spectacle offered by his salons in Posen in this respect. There was something touching about the marks of deference with which all these old glories of France surrounded him.

[Insert image of dozens of decorated army generals surrounding an 8-year-old: "You’ll get us out of this shit, right, little one?" - Eugène nodding very seriously: "Uh-huh."]

I would also like to point out that the young prince at the time was 31 years old, balding and loosing his teeth… But it’s nice to see Bessières’ reaction to his "apprentice" being in charge now.

The viceroy must have been delighted; [...]

… yeah… guessing from the letters he wrote to Auguste … not really all that much ...

[…] it was a fine reward for all the great things he had already done; it was a powerful encouragement to persevere on the straight and honourable path he had adopted; so he did not deviate from it for a single moment until the last catastrophe of the great man who called him his son.

Uhm, Elie? I think Marmont and d’Anthouard would like to have a word with you.

Posterity will do him this justice, that his entire conduct completely justified the special attachment Napoleon always had for him; a true attachment, animating Napoleon's words, whenever he had to express himself officially on the subject of his adopted son, with an affectionate feeling never shown in favour of any other member of the imperial family.

The keyword in this passage is "officially". And the fact Elie adds it makes me wonder if he (or rather Bessières - or possibly Elie's father through Murat?) may have known about some of the private correspondence Napoleon sent to Eugène, and that treated his stepson quite differently.

It was not only with regard to Napoleon that the Viceroy's conduct was noble and worthy of admiration; even after the Restoration we saw him know how, without failing in the duties of filial piety, to satisfy at the same time those of a good Frenchman; for having come to Paris in 1814, when all the events had taken place, he soon realised that they were trying to abuse the attachment that the army had for him in order to disturb his homeland. He did not hesitate for a moment to make this cruel and painful sacrifice, so that his name would not be mixed up in the intrigues that have so tarnished the glory of some of his comrades in arms.

That’s the same thing Napoleon was disappointed about on Saint Helena, I presume, when he did not see anybody to lead the army and cause another uprising in his own favour.

[not-souleaterpost]

Ever wished that a trailer DOES lie?

Didn't come up with some clever pun or whatever to express what I want so I'll put it bluntly: Does anyone agree that new Napoleon movie looks kinda lame from the trailers?

Like the first one was like the two types of cliche trailers one after the other - with all the "boom" sounds and mach cuts, while then doing the whole "eq-so-it-sounds-distant childlike song" thing. But what I found worse is turning Napoleon into Thanos (havent seen a Marvel movie after Iron Man 3, so I might be wrong) - but all the stoic cool guy one liners and weird self-agrandising cliche uterances - only to end with putting on the Crown on himself as if it was that stupid plastic gem-gauntlet... Should just have snapped and said "France Won" and go all the way while showing the Austo-Hungary disolve.

The second trailer seems to be more of the same, with even having the Black Sabbat song to make it artsy but not to artsy. Idk maybe I'm being to harsh and hypocritical, but aften then having the love interst say "look down at my crotch - I control you with it" - I just cant take it seriously - gives me flashbacks to being a kid and seeing my dad watch game of thrones and realises that half the charachters are screwing their sister and brothers cause thats the only way to make something "Mature"...

But why am I writting a whinning post? Don't I try to make some contrived point in these? Yeah, at first I didint even want to post this, so I dont be one of these cynical movie guys, feel bad for these who now seemingly in nearly their fifties just whine about how bad hollywood is and how superheros suck while only reviewing them while their is a great new Scorsesse movie which they ignore- And instead of continuing this passive agressive attack on RLM, I better segway into my whole point: "The Killers of the Flower Moon" - A movie I recently saw and enjoyed quite a lot - surprisingly because I thought from the trailers "Yeah, Scorsee got old and is phoning it in" - cause from the trailers it just seemed like a generic by the numbers exploitation film, where victims kill their oppressors with the whole "happy ending" being both overly sweet and bitter - because how unrealistic yet saddistic it would be, even as a fantasy only leaving the reality of resentment and bloody revenge.

But thankfully, it was nothing like that - so the trailer lied, and I was happy - or more happy that even when it lied I thought "well going to the cinema with friends is more important, and why not see a scorsse movie on the big screen, if he dies, or I, soon, I'll regret it, even if it was a piece of shit..."

So maybe that's the point I'm making - maybe a very weird and pointless one - but yeah, maybe Napoleon won't be as bad as I think? Even if it is a far-cry from the Napoleon Kubric would have made, Ridley Scott is still a director with a certain esteem, and who the hell didn't like Gladiator? Even still have an old VHS with a cutot of a tv-magazine of it that my father used to tape over to just pirate the movie old schoo way lol. Still, I'm not saying to mindlessly buy and watch everything - but to just think - maybe even a disapointing movie is worth the human connection one will make (cause who goes to the movies alone?) - so if somebody says "hey lets watch it, its like if the Joker was French" - why not, maybe even it will turn out to be:

[catierambles]

Null Ch.16

Pairing: Incubus!Charles Brandon x Anna Williams (OFC)

WC 3085 (is a bit chonky)

Warnings: Eh, none? Minors DNI 18+ ONLY

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme , @fvckinghenrycavill , @raccoon-eyed-rebel , @eldarwen333

Anna wiped away the steam from the mirror, looking at her reflection. Leaning in, she looked at her eyes, but the pupils were still round and not slitted. Moving her fingers through her hair, she didn't feel any bumps at her hairline of horns starting to grow in. She hadn't felt any odd patches of skin that might have been scales forming as she showered. Maybe they were wrong? Maybe what August had seen, what they all except for Mike had noticed was something else? Some odd byproduct of Charles feeding from her, but Napoleon had warned her at the party and that was before she and Charles had slept together, and he had only done so because he saw it start happening, according to him.

What did a succubus look like in their true form, anyway? Were they like the incubi? Or was it different between the males and females? If she ended up looking like the Desire Demons from Dragon Age, she was going to go mental.

Her phone dinged at her from the bedroom and she went to it, picking it up and seeing a text from Mike that was just a heart emoji. She sent him one back and tossed her phone back in the bed, getting changed out of the towel and into her pajamas, climbing into bed after turning out the lights. She laid in bed for a long while, scrolling through her phone when there was a shifting in the room.

"Hey." She heard Mike whisper and she sat up, turning on the lamp, and seeing him standing at the foot of the bed. "I know you said you wanted to be alone, and I know that me being here will only make things worse because of demonic radiation energy shit, but I…I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I don't know, Mike." She said, "I'm just…not scared, I guess, but it probably hasn't fully processed yet."

"I gotcha." He said, and started shifting his weight from side to side. "I should probably go. Probably shouldn't have come here to begin with."

"Come here." She said, opening her arms and there was a moment's pause before he crawled onto the bed, just about laying on her as she wrapped him in her arms, his head on her chest. "You're okay, buddy. I don't blame you."

"Thank you." He sighed, sinking into her as he held her ribs in his hands. There was another shifting and Sy blinked at them when he saw them.

"Same thought, huh?" He asked and Mike nodded.

"You too, big guy, get over here." She said and he went around to the other side of the bed, climbing on and Mike shifted slightly, making room for him.

"You know…" Mike started and she flicked his ear, recognizing that tone as him about to suggest something naughty.

"No." She said and Sy chuckled. "Sy, you called Charles your brother. Did you mean like "bro" brother, or "we have the same parents" brother?"

"Same dad, different moms." Sy said, "We all do."

"I had noticed you all vaguely resembled each other." Anna pointed out.

"You haven't met our other brother, Walter. He's on what's basically our version of the police, so he's constantly working." Sy said and she hummed.

"Hey, Anna?" Mike asked and she hummed again with a different inflection. "We've established "succubitch", but what about the dudes?"

"Incubastard." She said without skipping a beat.

"I like it." Mike said, a smile in his voice.

"You're quick, doll, you're very quick." Sy said and he picked his head up, the lamp turning off as he looked at it. "Good night."

"Good night." Mike echoed, burrowing into her chest somewhat. Anna didn't say anything, but she did feel a small smile pull at her lips as she drifted off.

Anna woke when her alarm went off, Mike making a complaining sound and snuggling further into her stomach where he had curled himself. Reaching over for her phone, she stopped the alarm and laid there for a few more minutes before opening her eyes. Looking at the both of them, she saw that they had changed their clothes into pajamas at some point, Mike in shorts and a tank top and Sy in a threadbare t-shirt and sleep pants.

“I gotta get up.” She said, patting Mike’s head gently, but he just made another sound, his arm wrapping tighter around her waist. “Mike, c’mon cuddles, I gotta pee and get ready for work.”

“Call out.” He mumbled and she snorted.

“I still gotta use the bathroom.” She said and he groaned, releasing his hold on her, rolling over on the bed. “Sy, you too, spider monkey.” He just snuggled deeper into her neck, his beard scratching at her skin. “Oh my god, you’re both children.” Picking up his arm where he had laid it over her chest, she pushed it off her and he rolled over onto his stomach, untangling his legs from hers. Scooting to the end of the bed, she went into the bathroom and did her business, looking into the mirror above the sink as she pulled a brush through her hair. Going to sleep with it wet had been a bad idea, but there was nothing she could do about it now except pull it back in a bun to somewhat tame it. Something caught her eye and she pulled up the sleeve of her t-shirt, baring her shoulder. “What the shit!” She heard Sy and Mike nearly fall off the bed at her exclamation and they both appeared in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Doll?” Sy asked.

“You okay, sweetcheeks?” Mike asked and she turned to them, showing them her shoulder. A dark scaling had appeared on her skin, colors shifting under the light like snake scales. It honestly reminded her of a rainbow python. They were smooth as she ran her hand over them, but she could still feel the scale pattern under her palm. “Shit.”

“Let me see them.” Sy said and went to her, taking her arm in his hands and looking over the scaling. “Yep, there it is. Fuck, we should have never come here, it just kicked the attunement into gear.” He let go of her arm and she checked her other shoulder, seeing the scaling there too. “Let me see, doll.” He turned her back to him gently and lifted her shirt. “Nothing on your back.”

“I didn’t see any on my legs either.” She said and he nodded. Mike came over and she turned back around. He held her arm in his hand, his thumb moving over the scales.

“They’re beautiful.” He said, “The colors are awesome. Fuck, I wish mine looked like this.”

“Yeah, kinda jealous myself.” Sy said with a slight scowl.

“Is it a succubus thing?” Anna asked.

“No, it’s a you thing. Scales are like fingerprints, no two are the same.” Sy explained and she made a defeated sound, dropping her forehead to his chest. “I know, doll. You want us to get lost?”

“Nah, fuck it. If it’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen.” Anna said, “I may not like it, but whatever.”

“That’s the spirit.” Mike said.

“I just hope I don’t end up looking like a Desire Demon from Dragon Age.” She said and they gave her questioning looks.

“Imma google it.” Mike said and left the bathroom. “Bruh.” He said a moment later and she snorted.

“One second, doll. Stay here where the lighting is good.” Sy said and left the bathroom as well, coming back with his phone. “Present.” She turned her shoulder to him, lifting up her sleeve again and adjusting her arm so he had a good view of them as he took a picture. “Sending it to the others.” A pause, “And it’s away.”

“Anna!” Her brows jumped as Charles came running into the bathroom, pushing Sy aside, “Let me see!” He looked over the scales as Sy had done but she pulled her arm out of his grasp.

“Did you have to send it to him, too?” She asked, looking at Sy.

“Woulda made it to him eventually.” Sy said, “If not me, then one of the others.”

“Anna,” Charles said, “I understand that you’re angry with me.”

“Ya think?” She shot back. “Charles, you didn’t tell me potentially life changing information, and you had several opportunities to do so.”

“I didn’t think--”

“No, you didn’t think.” She said and he sighed. “So yeah, I’m still pissed at you.”

“Syverson, why do you and Mike look as if you’ve just woken up?” Charles asked.

“Uh because we have.” Sy said.

“You spent the night?” His jaw tightened as he asked it.

“Oh fuck off with that!” Anna said and his brows jumped at her in surprise. “Yes, they spent the night, no, nothing happened except sleep. It’s none of your business anyway.”

“You two should have stayed away from her.” Charles said, turning on him. “Scales coming in this quickly is because you didn’t.”

‘We’re aware of that, Chuck.” Sy said and his jaw tightened again, “Pardon fucking us for worrying about someone we care about.”

“Someone you care about?” Charles asked, his tone accusatory.

“You can fuck off with that, too.” Anna said and pushed past them out of the bathroom, fixing her sleeves. Mike sat on her bed with his legs folded underneath him and she ruffled his dark curls as she grabbed her phone from the nightstand, looking at the time. “I have just enough time to make coffee and log in.”

“Go get set up, doll.” Sy said, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. “I’ll make you coffee and bring you it.”

“You don’t--” Charles started.

“Two teaspoons of sugar and enough creamer to make it kinda caramel colored, if you could.” Anna said with a small smile and he nodded.

“Logging that away.”

“Hey,” Mike said, looking up from his phone, “Message from Leon in the group chat. He did some digging last night and from what little we do know about it, once attunement has started, there’s no stopping it. You can slow it down, but it’ll complete itself eventually.”

“Best to get it over and done with now, then?” Anna asked and he nodded.

“I guess so.” He said with a shrug as well. “Your scales are bitchin’ though, so at least there’s that.”

“You doin’ okay?” Sy asked and she shrugged.

“Not really, but freaking out and having a breakdown won’t solve anything.” Anna said and he nodded.

“Go get set up for work, I’ll bring your coffee in when it’s done.” He said and she nodded, giving him an appreciative smile as she left the bedroom, heading for the study.

She was logged in and already working by the time he came in with her coffee, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and setting the mug down on the desk without a word. Him and Mike wandered in and out of the study sporadically throughout the day, grabbing something to read or asking where certain things were. Charles didn’t make an appearance, and she had no idea if he was even still in the house. She didn’t hate him and she even missed him a little, but him not telling her that something like this could happen even though that chance was slim was a massive violation of her trust. He hadn’t lied to her outright, but it might have been better if he had.

Finally it was time to clock out for the day and she did so, shutting down her work laptop and heading out of the study. She walked down the stairs into the living room but faltered slightly as she rounded the corner and saw Ann sitting there in one of the chairs. Mike and Sy were sitting on the couch with their backs to her, but their shoulders were tight so she guessed they had not invited her over.

“Hello, Anna.” Ann said with a false smile.

“Succubitch.” Ann said simply and the smile faltered slightly.

“Charming.” She said, “A little bird told me you’re going through some changes.”

“A little bird named what? August or Leon? It wasn’t Mike, Sy, or Charles because they can’t stand you any more than I can.” Anna said, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“Neither, actually.” Ann said, “I have a contact in the archives that told me that our dear Napoleon was looking into attunement. There’s only one reason why he would be looking into something as esoteric as that.”

“Ooh big word, “esoteric”. Too bad you used it incorrectly.” She said and Mike snorted as Ann perked a brow at her. “Not to be that person, but esoteric means something that is understood by very few. Latin or similar dead languages would be esoteric, certain philosophical studies would be esoteric. Attunement sounds more…atypical, than esoteric. Easily understood, but doesn’t happen very often.”

“Whatever.” Ann said with a roll of her eyes, “Semantics aside, you’re turning into one of us. Albeit some halfbreed mongrel.”

“Ann, are you capable of having a conversation without insulting someone?” Anna asked, “Honestly, if you’re like this with everyone, I don’t know how you haven’t starved to death by now. Also, didn’t Charles tell you that you weren’t welcome here anymore? I may be pissed at him right now, but that still firmly stands. So, if you would be so kind, get the fuck out of my house.” Ann stood from the chair, walking around the couch to face her properly.

“What is it about you that has them all so enamored?” Ann asked, “First Charles, then the others. There is absolutely nothing special about you. Looks wise you’re…average, and your personality is pedestrian at best.”

“Ann, how I am with you is different from how I am with them. I don’t like you, I like them. They treated me like a person when they first met me, you acted like I was some sideshow freak and talked down to me.” Anna said, “Now, get the fuck out of my home.”

“I will leave when I am good and ready to leave.” Ann said and Sy and Mike stood from the couch.

“You can leave on your own,” Sy said, “Or we can kick you out. Choice is yours.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Ann said, giving them looks over her shoulder.

“Fuck around and find out.” Mike said.

“Fine.” She said after a moment, “But I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Anna, and when the others lose interest and abandon you, I’ll be there to really make sure you feel that sting.” She vanished from the house and Anna sniffed, her hands tightening into fists.

“Is there any way we can keep her out for good?” She asked.

“It’s an all or nothing kind of thing.” Sy said, “Either you have it so any demon can come in, or you set it up so no demon can.”

“Figured.” Anna said, “Thought I’d ask. What's her damage, anyway?"

"She and Charles were kind of on again off again for a while." Sy said and she arched a brow at him. "Not a good relationship by any means. When you bought the place, they were in their off stage and all of a sudden he wouldn't stop talking about the null that bought the house. Charles was…"

"An asshole." Mike said.

"Not a great guy. What Ann and Napoleon told you about him wasn't far off from the truth." Sy said, "He was cocky, arrogant, with good reason though, no woman had ever turned him down. Then you came along and knocked him down a few dozen pegs. You humbled him big time, baby girl. He was fascinated by you, yeah, but somewhere along the way you went from a fascination to someone he legitimately cared about. It was nice to see that change in him."

"And the rest of you?"

"We wanted to see what the hype was about." Sy admitted, "Doll, you see us as people, not sexual objects or something you just want to fuck. You see us, unclouded by the auras we give off. You realize how great that is? To be seen as a person and not a walking sex toy?"

"I said something similar to Charles when my hormones were going haywire." Anna admitted, "That yeah, I could have taken him up on his offer, but that would just be using him as a walking dildo that breathes and I wasn't going to do that."

"That's unheard of around us and it probably threw him for one hell of a loop." Sy said, "We're not demons or incubi around you, we’re people. Can't speak for the others, but that's one hell of a good feeling, doll. To be seen."

"I dig it." Mike said with a shrug, but he had a small crooked smile on his face. "We're yours, sweetcheeks, and we ain't ever going to leave you." She could help it, couldn't stop her eyes from burning and soon tears were rolling down her face, falling to the floor as she looked down. Anna felt them get closer and Sy pulled her to his chest, one of her arms wrapping around his waist as she held Mike's hand with the other, the younger incubus laying his cheek against her shoulder as he held her hand in both of his.

"Anna?" She heard and took her face from Sy's chest, looking over and seeing Charles standing there. Pulling away from Sy, Mike let go of her hand and she went to him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." His voice choked somewhat and she pulled him to her, holding him as he buried his face in her neck, his arms wrapping around her tightly. "I can't…I can't lose you." She pulled away only so much that she could look at him, reaching up and brushing the damp from his face. Lacing her fingers through his hair, she pulled him into a kiss and he sobbed briefly against her lips, his eyes closing tight as he returned it. "I love you." She just kissed him again, parting his lips and deepening it. She felt Sy and Mike leave, probably due to her burgeoning transformation as she never used to feel when they came and went, and Charles clung to her. Pulling away from the kiss, she went up on her toes and pressed her lips to his forehead.

[usergreenpixel]

MALMAISON MEDIA SALON SOIRÉE 14: AT ABOUKIR AND ACRE (1898)

1. The Introduction

Hello, Dear Neighbors, and welcome back to Malmaison Media Salon. So, as I’ve said before, today we’re going to talk about a book by G. A. Henty, one of my archenemies!

Why archenemy?

That’s just how I label authors whose shit I reviewed before. Henty’s “wonderful” book about Frev left a bad taste in my mouth for a long time, so I was understandably mistrustful of any other piece of his.

However, after finding out he has one more Frev book AND several Napoleonic ones and this one (About the Egyptian Campaign, between the two eras), I had to make another review in spite of my lower than six feet expectations. So I went on Project Gutenberg to download the ebook for free. That’s where you can get it by the way.

But hey, maybe this book is better than the one I reviewed before. It’s always a possibility, right? The short answer is no. The long answer is not at all.

For an even longer answer, let us finally proceed with the review, which I dedicate to @koda-friedrich , @blackwidowmarshal123 and @aminoscribbles .

2. The Summary

As you might guess from the title, the book is set during the Egyptian campaign and, in classic Henty fashion, has a young English boy as the protagonist.

Edgar Blagrove, the boy in question, is a son of an English merchant who is left behind in Egypt during the war, so the book follows his adventures as he’s trying to survive, reunite with his family and have adventures along the way (as you do).

Even though Henty’s books are targeted at young boys, the premise sounds like something that I would actually enjoy, but I didn’t.

Let’s dissect this book to find out just how bad it gets, shall we?

3. The Story

The beginning isn’t so great. At first the opening scene promises some action, yet the immersion is broken like glass a couple of pages in with heaps upon heaps of Edgar’s backstory. Nice job, Henty…

Luckily, it’s the only time an extensive flashback like this is used, but the pacing can get about as fast as snail because often pieces of information get repeated in dialogues when nothing bad would’ve happened if the author avoided said repetition.

Moreover, while in the first half or so of the story the hero’s ways of getting out of problems stay realistic and justifiable, the second half has Edgar cross so far into Mary Sue territory that he may as well be called Gary Stu.

(Spoilers ahead)

This kid gets hired by SIDNEY FUCKING SMITH as a midshipman and interpreter. I’m not kidding, that’s an actual plot point!

Let me repeat: A kid who DID NOT previously serve in the navy is made midshipman and interpreter by SIDNEY SMITH, who meets said kid by pure coincidence! And only the interpreter part is justified, since Edgar was educated in several languages from a young age and learned the mother tongues of servants and citizens of Cairo too.

That, in all honesty, was the point where I just lost what little investment I had because it just became too apparent that everything will be fine and Edgar will have a happy ending.

4. The Characters

Before crossing the Gary Stu threshold, Edgar actually had potential to be a good character.

He is a reckless kid who was so bored with his monotonous life in Cairo that he wanted to see the English kick the French in the ass.

He cares about his friends, is kind and ready to help his loved ones and sometimes makes risky decisions.

But then he just becomes somebody who is always right and he gets too perfect. So all the potential goes down the drain like a dead goldfish. Hooray…

Sidi, an Arab boy Edgar rescues in the beginning of the story, is a bit more interesting, mainly due to his dynamic with Edgar as basically adopted brothers. He and his family provide Edgar with shelter in their oasis and help him out in a time of need too. Unfortunately, Sidi is a bit of a flat character for someone who gets a pretty major role in the story, but Henty isn’t too good with characters anyway.

Other characters are flat too. To various degrees. Unfortunately, that’s all I can say because there’s a ton of characters.

However, English officers like Nelson and Sidney Smith are whitewashed and glorified to no end. Henty loves sucking the dick of English nationalism, but I already saw that in my other review so no surprise there.

As for the French side of things… I was genuinely surprised that Napoleon was NOT portrayed as Devil Incarnate and it’s mentioned that he does care about his troops.

Many historical figures are name dropped but don’t appear in person, such as Kleber, Desaix, Junot, Menou, etc. Personally, I’m glad they don’t get a cameo in person for several reasons:

A) the book isn’t about them

B) it would be too unrealistic for Edgar to meet those people

C) after the atrocious portrayal of Montagnards, I DO NOT trust Henty with accuracy when it comes to French Republican generals

Eugene de Beauharnais is omitted once again, even though I’m pretty sure he participated in that campaign. Oh well, shout-out to Eugene from me!

5. The Setting

Henty is, once again, bad with settings and his descriptions are, at times, too minimalistic.

I didn’t feel the action in battle scenes, I couldn’t envision the oasis, the streets of Cairo or any other settings. There’s just not enough to achieve immersion.

6. The Writing

The writing is old fashioned, as it was a book written in the 19th century, but for people who are fluent in English there shouldn’t be a lot of issues with comprehending the vocabulary, except maybe all the naval terms that have no definitions given. Grrr…

I can’t necessarily call Henty’s writing awful, but it’s not for me so it didn’t help my overall impression of the book.

7. The Conclusion

Even though it’s not as bad as “In the Reign of Terror” was, it’s still not a book I would recommend and the improvements are insignificant.

Most characters are still flat, the annoying nationalism has still reared its head, the pacing is longer than the Amazon River and the protagonist becomes a Gary Stu in the end.

The verdict? Please find something else to read.

Anyway, the soirée is officially coming to an end. Please stay tuned because more updates are coming soon.

Love,

Citizen Green Pixel

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

In the last post you mentioned about Napoleon having his own mental health issues, what were they like? I'm curious about it

ah the Junot post!

It's purely speculation on my side, there's no firm proof for anything. Also, swiftly putting my Former Historian Hat on: psychoanalyzing the dead is a fool's game and one shouldn't do it aside from idle speculation on the Internet (with that being caveated heavily), or amongst friends after a few glasses of wine. I side-eye historians who go and fucking give Napoleon 500 mother complexes and what-not.

On the other hand, Junot did explicitly, clearly have something going on, in terms of mental health, but I would never think to formally speculate on what that issue was. I think it's important to note he had clear struggles and challenges, and they likely impacted his behaviour and choices, but more than that we can't say.

-

Ok, now that I've said we shouldn't overly psychoanalyze the dead, I'm going to psychoanalyze the dead! This is very-much my idle speculation, which is all debatable.

So, off the record, I suspect Napoleon had various traumas and other such things from life, battle, etc. that he never properly dealt with in any meaningful capacity which, in turn, resulted in some of his interpersonal struggles, among other things.

The separation from his family at nine, when he was sent to school in France, was a huge trauma that he never really...did anything with, and it just sat there in the back of his head festering. As these things do. Would explain some of his attachment issues. Family did note that there was Napoleon before going to boarding school and Napoleon after and they were different. Not being able to be at school with Joseph didn't help, either, since they had been companions since birth.

In addition, the tough love approach to how he was raised probably caused some issues, I think. There's that (perhaps apocryphal) story of how he had been fucking around during mass when he was a boy and Letizia didn't say a word about it. Then, later that night, it was bath time for the kids and she told him he got the honour of being first in the water. She waited till he undressed then grabbed him and gave him the world's soundest hiding as punishment for misbehaving during mass. When he talked about it later, he said that while the hiding was deserved, he hated that she lied in order to get him in place for his punishment. She should have just been upfront.

(I have sympathy for Letizia. Aside from the, "she was mothering in the 1770s (i.e., product of her time)," she was young, regularly single-mom-ing it as Carlo fucked off to wherever, had her own issues going on, and Napoleon sounds like a difficult child. A very sweet boy, by all accounts, but an absolute menace and a handful. Also like, everyone's parents fuck up, and their parents before them fucked up, and their parents before that - so on and so forth. And we will fuck up as parents, and our children will fuck up as parents etc. I've just got some sympathy for her, basically.)

Fame and power! Not talked about super often, aside from the glib "absolute power corrupts absolutely," but this stuff does do weird shit to your brain. Also, this wasn't helped by the need he felt to hyper-perform Empire (we are the most courtly court, the more imperial empire etc.) in an effort to demonstrate his worthiness in comparison to other monarchical powers in Europe at that time.

So we get someone who is already pretty emotionally walled off, insecure in some ways, scared of being laughed at, already prone to some degree of selfishness and such, and then this is just dialed up to eleven. Add in a light sprinkling of paranoia and the neurosis that comes with maintaining a position of power viewed as vulnerable (Napoleon lived through the Revolution, he knew how tenuously one's head is attached to one's body) and that just sweetens the cake of "Oh Boy, You Could Use Some Therapy. I Know A Guy You Should Talk To."

The uncertainty of the Revolution definitely put some people into a bit of a survival mode and a scarcity mode of thought and approach to decision making. Having to go down every morning to check the lists of those taken up during the night to make sure your friends and family aren't on it is going to have an impact.

Being at war, almost constantly, for twenty-plus years, will do things to a person.

Anyway - one could go on but I shan't.

Like, Napoleon's issues, whatever they may have been, do broadly fall into the category of "normal shit" (e.g., bouts of occasional depression, attachment issues, various traumas (childhood, war, grief etc.) we're not talking more extreme things, such as what Junot may have suffered from.

-

I hope this answers your question! And as noted at the front, this is purely speculation and idle thoughts I've had. It is by no means historical analysis or anything and shouldn't be approached as such.

[vukovich]

ohkey, my lovely. prompt for your peculiar postings because i need it and all the snap-back fratboy vibes, m'dear, please!

the adventures of napoleon, the gargantuan bong (ref this post!) *rats ride the penis* and *gargoyling the bong" must feature.

because. of course.

kk. big love. xo

Bruh… Bruh? Bruh.

--

“A la bataille!" Neville entered the living room, alphorn of a bong held over his head. "Viva la French!"

"France," Draco corrected. He sighed and looked up from his o-chem book to check the clock. "It's eleven AM."

Neville plopped down on the sofa next to Draco. “Saturdays are for the boys.” He shrugged and twisted the grinder over the coffee table. It loosed a snowstorm of some of the skunkiest shit the man had ever dragged into the house.

Draco scrunched his nose. "Did you pick that in a fucking ditch?"

Neville shot him a lop-sided smile and stroked Napoleon's side like a blown-glass pet. "Napoli wanted something new."

"You need a girlfriend."

Neville hugged the bong to his chest, holding it between his knees and feet. "Shh, don't listen to him Nap."

Draco sighed again, drew a breath, and smelled pizza. Hot pizza. The house permanently smelled like something between pepperoni and unwashed men, but fresh-baked crust and bubbling cheese were present now. His stomach growled, and he set his textbook on the coffee table next to Neville's 'herbological studies'.

"Who ordered pizza?"

Neville shrugged as he packed the bowl. "Dunno, but I'm gonna hit this, hit that pizza box, and hit the hay."

"It's eleven AM," Draco repeated.

A knock sounded from the doorway to the kitchen. Nobody knocked here. The cute guy from Draco's organic chemistry class stood in the entrance. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the battered furniture, empty Bang cans, and smattering of discarded socks.

"Uhm," he started. "Hi?"

"Not yet," Neville said succinctly.

"Harry!" Draco said with a start. He was early for their study date. Whether they were studying or on a date, Draco hadn't been bold enough to ask.

"Uhm, yeah, I-" he shifted his backpack on his shoulder. "Some guy who works at White Castle let me in?"

Draco scooted over on the couch and patted the seat between him and Neville. "Theo. He doesn't work at White Castle. He just dresses like it."

"Uhm, right," Harry said. "He seems... nice."

He hugged his backpack to his chest as he sat down, eyes never leaving the bong held between Nevilles knees. Harry slid closer to Draco, and Draco reached an arm behind him on the backrest of the couch.

Neville quirked an eyebrow, then winked at Draco. He held a hand out to Harry. Slowly, Harry shook it. Neville nodded sagely. "I'm Neville. This is Napoleon. As a guest, you shall take the first hit of the day."

"That's what the White Castle guy said about the S'mores vodka." Harry scrubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shuddered. He wiggled closer to Draco, bodies pressed together. "Uhm, I'm just here to study. Draco's my lab partner."

Neville carefully set the bowl in the stem and dug around in his pocket. He pulled out a vintage brass Zippo with a griffin on it.

"Sorry, Harry," Neville said. "I don't make the rules."

Theo poked his head in from the kitchen. He tipped the bill of a White Castle snapback, then spun it around backwards. "I’m mad makin’ rules," he said around a mouthful of pizza. "All of 'em." He washed the pizza down with a swig from a handle of S'mores vodka. "And you gotta hit the bong. Or we gotta hit you with the bong, shawty."

Harry fiddled with the zipper tab on his backpack. Draco leaned down just close enough to smell his hair. He closed his eyes. Harry was so warm, and so close. If Harry really wanted to study, he'd have suggested meeting at the library.

Draco slid his arm lower, almost around Harry's shoulders, but not quite. Harry leaned his head back onto Draco's bicep, and Draco's heart skipped a beat.

Neville flicked the lighter a few times and frowned. Nothing but sparks. Theo whipped a silver blur at him, and it thunked off Neville's shoulder into his lap. "Thanks, Prez."

"S'why y'all voted for me," Theo said around the mouth of the bottle. “Mad presidential.”

"Eleven AM," Draco muttered to himself.

Neville and Theo stared at Harry, who reacted by snuggling closer to Draco. Draco wrapped his arm around Harry, and Harry let out a long sigh that smelled like vodka and fake chocolate. Draco nuzzled his face into Harry's hair. "How many shots did you do on the way in?"

"Uhm. Like. Four."

Draco snorted a laugh. "Some lab partner you are."

Harry shrugged, pulling Draco's arm tighter. "Forgot my book and notes, too."

"Hm. What's in the bag, then?"

"Change of clothes. Other stuff."

"Other stuff?"

Harry turned and met Draco's gaze with a coy smile. He bit his lip for a moment before stretching up and laying a peck on Draco's chin. A flush burned up Draco's neck, and he leaned down for a lot more than a peck, but something thunked against his forehead.

"Goddammit," he muttered, rubbing his head. Theo's lighter sat in his lap. Harry picked it up, letting his knuckles graze against Draco's zipper.

Neville and Theo stood next to the other end of the couch, bong held between them like a family photo. Theo pointed at Draco with the vodka bottle. "You gotta light it for your 'lab partner', D. House rules."

"Since when was that a house rule?"

Theo took another swig. "Like, 'bout thirty seconds ago."

Theo and Neville exchanged a loaded glance. Neville nodded. Theo grinned. Neville patted the arm of the couch opposite Draco and beckoned Harry over.

Harry looked up at Draco. Draco bit back a grin. "You're going to have to hit it from the arm of the couch." He mussed Harry's hair. "Short stuff."

Harry scoffed, but smiled back. "I mean, if it's a rule..."

“S’totally a rule,” Theo said, dragging Harry off the couch. “It is time!” he yelled. “For the gargoyle boil!”

Draco rolled his eyes, but knelt at the bottom of the bong with the lighter. Above him, Harry crouched, shoes on the arm of the sofa. Neville wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders to hold him steady.

Theo thrust his bottle into the air. “Release the fi-yaaaaaaaah!”

Draco rolled his eyes again, flicked the shitty lighter, and held it to the bowl. Harry took a long, slow breath, and smoke gurgled up into the bottom third of the bong.

“Again,” Neville said.

“Again!” Theo shouted.

Harry glanced down at Draco, and Draco nodded. Harry took another long pull, and the weed in the bowl crackled.

“One more,” Neville said, watching the smoke rise.

Draco licked his lips and watched Harry’s fingers wrap around the glass, his lips open, and his chest heave. He took a massive drag, and Neville let out an impressed “Woooooo!”

Harry’s eyes watered, and Draco crawled up onto the sofa next to him. Harry leaned down and pressed his mouth against Draco’s. Their lips parted, and Draco inhaled his breath. Under the cloying dank trash of Neville’s ditch weed was the faint taste of S’mores vodka. Draco pulled back and blew a faint white cloud over his shoulder.

“Fi-yaaaah!” Theo sang, shoving Harry off the arm of the couch and into Draco’s lap. He took the bong from Harry’s hands and pretended to jerk it off while taking a hit. He held his breath and pointed at Draco. Smoke poured from his nostrils as he spoke. “Saturdays are for the boys. So sayeth the president.”

Draco shrugged. “Boys will be boys.”

“Touché,” Theo said with a wink.

He passed Napoleon over to Neville, who held it like a microphone and sang, “Riiiiiiiiiiiicola! Riiiiiiiiiicola!” and proceeded to glue his face to the glass, exhaling through his nose with each pull until he stood in a cloud of his own making.

Harry wiggled closer to Draco’s chest and buried his nose in Draco’s neck. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and mumbled into his hair, “Want to go upstairs?”

Harry hummed contentedly. “Maybe. What’s upstairs?”

“My room. We could watch a movie or something.”

Harry pulled back and grinned. “Hm. ‘Or something’ sounds good.”

Next to them, Neville and Theo swapped bottle for bong and back again. Harry slid off Draco’s lap and pulled Draco to his feet. “Show the way.”

Trying to hide his rising giddiness, Draco took him by the hand and pulled him toward the stairs as the room below broke into a two-man cheering squad.

“Go, Neville, s’not ya birthday!” The lighter flicked. “Sumday, s’gunna be ya birthday!”

Draco opened his bedroom door, and Harry shoved him through.

A crash from below made them both pause. Glass shards crunched, and the lighter clattered to the floor.

“Napoleooooonnnnnnn!” Neville wailed.

“Aw, shit. Man down.” Theo slurred. “That’s mad fucked, bruh.”

Liquid splattered.

“Stop pouring vodka on him!”

Draco stood in his bedroom doorway and listened, fighting a chuckle. Behind him, Harry hopped onto the bed.

“Fuck, man, sign of respect to our fallen king.” Theo burped. “May he rest in pieces.”

“Napoli…” Neville sobbed.

Draco rolled his eyes and turned around to apologize, but a pair of jeans hit him in the face.

He pulled them off his head. Harry was kneeling naked on his bed. “We gonna ‘study’ o-chem or what?”

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook��s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.  

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

[apinchofm]

Request ~ Marcus decides to start name dropping historical figures he’s met in conversation with Phoebe, only for them to get increasingly far fetched. She eventually calls him out, much to his amusement

"Hamilton six times?"

"Yes!"

Phoebe and Marcus were sitting talking about his time in America in its early, early days.

"Wait, the Reynolds Pamphlet?" Phoebe asked, "You didn't have anything to do with that?" Se could imagine Baldwin or Philippe taking out one of the Founding Fathers.

"No, not even Philippe could have thought of doing something so stupid." Marcus laughed, "But it was a conversation with Absalom Jones that I think really helped me."

"Absalom Jones," Phoebe mused, and smiled recalling "The freed slave who started a church?"

Marcus nodded, "I was one of the few, extremely doctors to help and trust his church during the Yellow Fever epidemic in Philadelphia. Brilliant man."

.......

"So much like bloody Alexandre," Marcus muttered as he rifled through one of the old chests in one of the many rooms of Sept-Tours that served as storage to the de Clermont's stuff.

"Alexandre?" Phoebe asked amused, holding up an old masquerades ball mask.

"Dumas," Marcus said mindlessly and chuckled when he saw her.

"Thomas was alright," Gallowglass defended as he came in, "Even if Egypt was a shitshow."

"No, Junior." Marcus corrected, "Can't find that box of pipes I wanted to give Phoebe to send to a museum, but I think he stole it at that card game in Brussells."

"No, Victor was the smoker." Gallowglass corrected.

"Sorry, Victor Hugo?" Phoebe asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, he was a shit but he returned that pipe." Gallowglass chuckled, "But he did base a character on Marcus."

"Combeferre is not based on me for the last blood time!" Marcus yelled back annoyed.

"Combeferre? Sounded like you at the time," Gallowglass smirked, "And Freud stole that pipe, not Victor."

"You didn't know Hugo or Freud," Phoebe said and Marcus simply kissed her on the cheek and chuckled as he handed her a box. She looked at Gallowglass who held his hands up in defence.

"Doctors. All weird." He shrugged.

.......

"We should get a cavalier puppy." Phoebe said as they browsed an adoption website, "They are so cute!"

"You say to your republican husband." Marcus pointed out

"You weren't there for the English Civil war." Phoebe admonished, "I am getting a cute puppy because I can't read anything by Victor Hugo,"

"Fine." Marcus sighed, dramatically then leaned over to kiss her, "And for the record, I hated them because bloody King George's puppies kept nipping at my ankles."

"Mad King George?" Phoebe asked amused, and Marcus nodded, "You didn't meet King George III!"

"Poor man. Though he survived longer than I thought all that mercury I gave him. I was concerned." Marcus tutted and Phoebe slapped his chest.

"Haha," Phoebe replied sarcastically, "You killed the mad king. Marcus, I love you but your stories get more and more insane."

"Marcus, what have I said about you mentioning the fact we killed King George III?" Matthew admonished as he walked in and sat across from them on the sofa.

"It's not as if Liz is going to chop my head off." Marcus shrugged.

"Wait, what?" Phoebe asked, "Why?"

"We were also dealing with Napoleon, but you can't have a madman on both sides," Matthew reasoned, "Who better than the American doctor who fought in the revolution?"

Marcus stood and bowed dramatically, "What can I say?"

Phoebe slapped him. Not because she was upset they killed a royal family member but because he has been actually telling the truth about some of his absurd stories and he said earlier that day he slept with Jane Morris whilst treating her husband.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Imagine if the suitors went to the beach for a whole day in the modern world...what crazy crap do you think will happen

Here are a handful of crazy and/or cute headcanons that came to mind! :D

-Mozart swatting away seagulls because HE IS TRYING TO EAT IN PEACE

-Jeanne watching him, MC offering him two water guns with a silent nod (sunglasses on, we’re going full meme)

-Jeanne then proceeds to shoot at them (no gulls were harmed in making of this promotional video) and his aim is impeccable it would be disturbing if the thwarted squawking wasn’t so funny

-Little kids start swarming around Jeanne asking how he’s so amazing and wanting to play team battles, inviting him to join

-Napoleon encourages him, and even Mozart joins in despite not liking getting wet very much (he wants Jeanne to have some positive fun times bc he BIIIIIIIG depressy)

-In the end they both admit to having fun, and one of the kids even teaches Jeanne a special ten step handshake (Jeanne has no idea what that was but the kiddo was smiling so he figured he’d go with it)

-HE AND MOZART STILL SECRETLY USE THE HANDSHAKE FOR FUNSIES BUT TELL NO ONE BECAUSE THEY DON’T LIKE F U N DON’T LOOK AT THEM

-Dazai, alternatively, gathers the fallen gull army and becomes their god with a singular cylinder of Pringles. No I will not elaborate--THE SEA GULLS GOT HER!!!!!!!!

-Spends most of the beach day wetting his feet in the tide pools and talking very earnestly to the gulls about this new thing he learned about called tax evasion while people pass by this fucker in full kimono at the beach and are convinced he’s lost it

-Dazai is very much not sane but we knew this already, offers sea shells to little kids that ask him what he’s doing and tells them to listen to the secrets bird friends can tell them

-If Dazai sounds like an Animal Crossing Villager, that was entirely by accident but remains no less true

-Surprising absolutely no one, Arthur suggests volley ball after watching people play and invites some pretty ladies to join him

-Arthur ends up needing two more people to play, so he invites Vincent and Theo (Vincent is so excited about trying something new that Theo can’t say no despite wanting to make a volleyball-shaped crater in Arthur’s face)

-The funniest part about the volleyball game is that not only is Arthur a shit player (CANON WEAK ARMS FOOL) Theo destroys with his spikes, and Vincent’s reach is insane--the two brothers end up becoming the talk of the beach

-I just laugh imagining Vincent sincerely complimenting people around him and the ladies swooning because he’s just so nice and pretty is he even real

-Men aren’t happy about that^TM but at the sight of Theo’s defensive glower they keep their malicious traps shut--which turn on whichever girls weren’t interested in Vincent jahkslgjh

-**Kaguyasama narrator voice** Today on Arthur Shenanigans: Arthur loses

-Poor Isaac is hiding under the umbrella clutching sunscreen bc HE IS A PASTY BOY HELP HIM

-MC brought a few of the newest Maths/Physics books in her time for him to read, and while he doesn’t enjoy the intensity of the sun--not like vamp weakness, it’s just the strain on his body (too many stimuli too many people too much noise) that makes him tired and ultimately thirsty bc aberrant. But the change of scenery's not so bad.......

-MC laughs when she gets out of the water and the salt dries visibly on her skin, Isaac’s eyes bug out and he asks if it hurts (startles when Leo flicks sea water at him and asks how on earth they got in the water when it’s so cold!!!)

-Leo chats with him and he likes being able to draw theorems and the like in the sand, it’s like one big chalkboard (until a kid tramples across them in the middle of writing, POPPYCOCK!). Isaac ultimately has fun but prefers to stay inside poor bub

-Leonardo, surprising no one, falls asleep in the sand the second he gets there HE IS HOME (Italian beaches, amirite)

-MC decides to, after a point, bury him fully in the sand for shits

-Comte notices and aids in her shenanigans from his beach chair, snickering the whole time

-When the two are satisfied they go for a swim together, trusting Leo to look after Isaac if need be (even if he’s a mummy rn)

-Comte is relieved to hear that she knows how to swim, but also watches carefully and doesn’t let her drift out too far by keeping closer to the shore himself (riptides!!!! can be!!!!!!! dangerous!!!!!!!!!!) if he had his way (he would never impose but he worries ;-;) she’d be wearing floaties SAFETY FIRST

-They splash at each other like maniacs and chat amiably until they start swimming away as fast as possible when Leo wakes up, laughing

-How do we know that Leo woke up?

-Because he sat up ramrod straight and a tower of sand fell. He then proceeded to jump up and sprint to the water despite Isaac’s startled cries about being careful, and swam after them like a shark to get his revenge (it was like something out of an anime s2g)

-Mostly just tugs on MC’s leg, picks her up in the water, and yeets her across in retaliation; really harmless, she’s cackling the whole time

-Dunks Comte’s head in the water while he’s being scolded, and MC has to de-escalate their increasingly dangerous shenanigans before the life guard comes after them LMFAO

-They concede only bc MC looks sad/worried abt being kicked out, and agree to keep things fun FIGHT TO THE DEATH LATER TONIGHT

-Napoleon goes for a nice long walk along the shoreline and climbs the rocks if he finds any til he gets to the top (he does not go to his happy place HE GOES TO HIS HIGH LONESOME PLACE) wishes that Jupiter could be here to enjoy the brine

-Our boy Napoleon is simply just vibin he loves the beach. A little further off the sound of people is p muted, it’s just the crashing waves and crisp smell of salt, the light breeze ruffling his hair 

-Sebas is absolutely watching through binoculars and writing down how majestic Napoleon is while making sure no one gets lost/wrecked as he takes notes

Bonus: since volleyball games can often happen back to back on a sizable beach, the boys^TM were playing and Arthur called out “Theo duck!!!!” and just as Theo was saying “Are you fucking kidding me did you really think I’d--T H W A C K” Theo gets nailed in the back of the head (Arthur later died after being put in a headlock)

Shakespeare didn’t feel like playing volley ball and didn’t have much else to do (can’t swim and has no interest), so he just sat back and tried to throw Theo off his game as much as possible 

Por ejemplo: Theo misses a serve and Shakespeare just “For never was there a story of more woe; O bard Alexa, verily, play us Despacito” “SHUT THE FUCK UP”

Jeanne also gets hit by a stray volley ball, but when Vincent said “Oh no, Jeanne, duck!” he has one of either two reactions: 1. Boulevard of Broken Dreams plays obnoxiously loud as he dodges inhumanly fast 2. he quacks, gets nailed, and doesn’t react because he doesn’t have any brain cells to damage

[mansions-maiden]

Helloooww againnnnn xD

Thank you so much for taking my request before (arthur mc switch place). Sooo i wanna request again if you have timeeee xD

About young mc was a mischievous kid, problem child and often got spanked by her mom back then. So i wanna request the scenario of mc suddenly become a little girl and 12 of them will dealing with her shit*y mischievous behavior xD. Kinda wanna see they got tired and traumatic to have children xD

Thank you so much before and i love you so muchhhhh ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

this was so much fun to write! and sorry it was late! I was busy with school work and the first draft got deleted. so had to rewrite it from the scratch. T-T. wrote it long as a compensation! Enjoy the reading! And second request from the same person! Love you too❤💕

word count: 2K.

The sun rose in the east and dyed the streets of 19th century France in it’s orange hue. Sebastian went to wake MC up as she didn’t wake up yet.

*rap rap* “MC! wake up! It’s morning already!” , he knocked MC bedroom’s door for sometime and yet, there was no answer from the other side. Worried, he went to comte and grabbed the spare keys to MC’s room.

He went inside and searched for mc. But when she couldn’t be found anywhere, he called for comte and Leonardo. Hearing his calls, Leo and comte immediately came running into the room, only to find a small girl child, fast asleep amidst the silky bedsheets.

The three men looked at each other before Leonardo gently picked up the girl in his arms. A crescent smile crawled on to their lips at the sight of the little girl.

Comte took the girl from Leonardo's arms and put her on his hip, wrapping an arm around her little waist.

"who is this little girl? Where did MC go?" Comte asked looking around the room.

The girl woke up from her slumber due to all voices and movements. The three men stared at her. " Hey Leo, why do I get a feeling that this little girl is MC? her eyes look the same as our mc..ow!" Comte cried in pain while speaking as MC was pulling his blonde locks of hair painfully.

Leo laughed at Comte and Sebastian quietly snickered before composing himself and spoke" M.comte, I think we should explain the situation to residents too."

"You're right Sebastian. I shall inform them. " Comte said, finally freeing his hair from MC's grip.

MC was giggling to herself loudly.

(Aand mama Comte and papa Leonardo mode have been activated )

All the residents stared at the new arrivals in the dining hall.

" Goodness Comte! When did you become father? Congratulations on becoming father of 13 members!" Arthur spoke from one end of the table with a mischievous grin.

"stop it Arthur. I am no one's father. And this little girl here is our MC. Looks like she took something that changed her into her childhood self". Comte said with a little frown as he took his seat.

"oh really!? MC is so cute! Come here little girl!" Vincent aka the gentle angel took her from Comte and sat her on the table. "Do you want bread lil doll?" Vincent asked, giving her the baguette.

MC threw the baguette on the other side of the table ( I can hear the sound of Comte's breaking heart seeing his favorite dish being thrown away XD. )

The baguette smacked Mozart's face and a disappointed sigh was heard from him ." It's only morning and I have to deal with little MC's ruckus? She already causes enough trouble in original form.." Mozart said.

"Mama! Papa! Give me chocolates!" MC went to Comte and tugged at his cloak with her little hands.

"wait! Why the hell is she calling you mama and papa!?" Theo asked with a surprised tone to which Leonardo replied with a shrug and laugh.

“sebastian? can you buy her some chocolates? “ comte asked. Sebastian immediately went into the town. 

"You're soo cute Toshiko- little mc! I want to squish you in my arms!" Dazai said as he poked her cheeks and suddenly, a shrill scream of pain escaped his mouth. " Ahh~! Why did you bite my hand !? " Dazai screamed again looking at the red bite mark appearing on his fingers.

"No one touches mc!" Mc squealed and jumped on to the floor and began running. "Catch me if you can!" Mc ran out of the dining room and disappeared into the gardens.

Arthur, Vincent and Napoleon were soon on their feet searching for mc. "Now, where did this sneaky little girl go?!" Arthur said, wiping the sweat beads on his forehead. That's when the three heard heard the adorable giggles of a child.

They saw mc, covered in mud from tip to toe and Arthur's and Theo's dogs running and playing with her.

"Gotcha!" "Ahh~ Arthur! Hehee!" Mc squealed and wriggled , trying to escape from Arthur's grasp.

"hey! W-what are you doing?!" Arthur exclaimed suddenly as he found himself getting covered in dirt by mc. " Wowee! Noe Arthur us dirty! Napoleon! Shoo him away and throw him in the bath"

"Go and freshen up Arthur. I'll take care of her" Napoleon told Arthur and sent him into the mansion.

" Napoleon! Bend down! Bend down! Gimme a piggy back ride! "

"wai- woah!!" Napoleon was surprisingly pulled down by MC by his Cape.

And that's how MC had a whole tour of mansion with Napoleon as her personal horse.

The sun rose further into the sky and soon it was afternoon. All the vampires gathered at the dining table including Shakespeare, who was invited for lunch by Vincent.

Shakespeare heard the giggles of a child. "Why doth I hear the giggles of a child in thy mansion Comte? " Shakespeare asked searching for the source of the voice.

"our MC has turned into a child Will. Those giggles are of our MC." Vincent explained what had happened from the morning.

" oh- looks like destiny has strange ways of entertaining herself.." Shakespeare murmured to no one and called out for MC.

"Shakespeare! You're here. I have some stories for you. Do you want to listen?" Mc asked running into the dining hall.

"what may those stories be little Angel?" Shakespeare asked, making her sit in the chair next to his.

" Do you know, Theo has sweet tooth secretly. He even fills his entire pancakes with sugar syrup! He dips everything he finds in sugar syrup.! And he wants Vincent  to love only him!”

"oi little Hondje ! What do you think you're blabbering about?!" Theo rose from his seat, as he stopped  eating his sugar syrup dipped pan cakes. XD .

"Vincent! Protect me from your darling brother!" MC said hiding behind Shakespeare and sticking her tongue out at Theo.

The mansion reverberated with the laughter of residents as she went on and on telling her stories , which had some of the most embarrassing stories of residents and had left residents with burning cheeks.

After lunch, Theo called little mc and took her out into the town along with his dog King. “ MC! come here! Don’t go wandering off!” Theo was having hard time catching mc and looking after his King at the same time.

“THEO! Come here! You must see this! It’s so cute!!” MC approached Theo and dragged him by his arm. Theo turned to stone as soon as he saw what had caught the sight of mc. “Theo! Theo? ...Hello..Theo!” MC shook Theo by his arm and Theo immediately looked down at her with a flustered gaze,” Why would you want to show me a cat?! You little rascal!” Theo bent down to reach mc’s height. “Oh.. Are you afraid of cats? I’m sorry! I didn’t know that.. but! OH! I gotta tell this to all the members!”

“Don’t you dare!” Theo now ran after MC as she sped off towards mansion. Her mischief kept all the residents on high alert their toes and they didn’t even realize it was evening.

When mc was roaming through the corridors, she found Leonardo fast asleep near the library doors again and  a sudden idea popped in her mind. She woke up Leonardo and gave him a glass of water. “ Leo! I thought you might be thirsty. So I brought you a glass of water!”

Unable to resist her puppy dog eyes, he took a sip of water, only to spit it out the next instant .” What did you mix in this cara mia?!”

“uh-oh! I think  I mixed the salt without my knowledge. Thank you for saving my tongue Leo!” mc said laughing and ran off into the corridors.

Sebastian was in kitchen, cooking dinner  when he felt his waistcoat being tugged. “ Hey, peasant! Bow down to the queen! “ MC posed as a queen with crown stolen taken from comte’s room. “ Your lovely highness, I’m afraid you’re not a queen yet. But the princess of this mansion does deserve a treat. Here” Sebastian told as he kept a chocolate bar in her mouth. A sweet moan escaped her mouth as the chocolate melted in her mouth. “ Yours truly is satisfied peasant! You may continue your work!” MC said as she went off, still chewing off the chocolate in her mouth.

“It looks as if looking MC is much harder than all the 11 vampires combined together..” he sighed as he murmured to himself.

after sometime:

Isaac heard a soft knock on his door and he opened it, and found little mc with her hands behind her back and mischief dancing in her eyes. “I am here to give you this” MC said with a smile as she gave him  a paper. A sour face was made by Isaac as soon as he saw the paper she gave. “What is this?! Not you too!” Isaac cried out as he saw the drawing of Isaac saying, “I love apples” and many more drawings related to apples.

“OH MC! COME HERE!” Isaac shouted as MC ran away, laughing loudly on her way. The residents heard the commotion and came outside, only to find Isaac with a flustered gaze and panting heavily. “Who told mc about apples and me?! Now even she joined in Arthur’s cult!” Isaac told everyone and everyone burst out laughing.

Comte called her into his room and sate her in the chair across him as he asked,” Cherie? Here you go , I bought this for you. “ Comte said as he gave her the new dresses and chocolates.

“ aah!! Comte! thank you so much!! You’re my mama!!” Mc squealed as she hugged comte’s knees.  She stretched out her hand and told, “mama! say aah!” comte opened his mouth and soon found out that she had given him a chocolate. He took her into his arms and sat her on his lap, kissing her nose and forehead affectionately.

After dinner:

MC was on the couch yawning  and scrunching her eyes when comte and Mozart found her. “Are you sleepy cherie? Would you like to sleep?” Comte asked, bending down. “Yes..” “ I shall play a lullaby then. Will you listen to it MC? “ . “yeah...” mc yawned again.

Mozart told comte to follow him into his music room with mc. Mozart began playing  lullaby as soft as the wind chimes in the windy night on his piano. Comte ran his fingers through the hairs of mc as he watched her fall asleep, with her head in his lap with a smile on his face. ‘could this day get any better?’ he thought to himself as continued petting her head.

After MC fell asleep, he carried her gently in  a princess carry into the hall where everyone is gathered.

“Is she asleep?” everyone looked at mc’s sleeping face with adoration as Napoleon asked. “ I can’t believe she has the nerve to sleep after keeping us on our feet the entire day.” Theo sighed .

“ I do agree..she’s such a handful kid.. But it is the most refreshing day and most adorable thing I’ve ever seen”  Arthur said, stretching his hands above his head and laughed.

“I can’t believe one of the most feared emperor  ended up becoming a personal horse for a little girl” napoleon said rubbing his still aching back and shoulders.

“Does anyone want to have a kid here in the mansion?” Sebastian asked with a curious gaze.

“No! Having mc already in her original form is enough to us. She’s just like a big grown up baby. “ Leonardo said with a smile.

“I’m so glad that everyone thinks of MC the same way” Comte said laughing.

“We all are tired today due to her. Let’s call it a day guys..” Everyone retired to their own rooms and comte put her to sleep in her room before going to his room.

Next day, mc was back in her own form with no memories of the previous day. But everyone kept their mouths sealed for they wanted to hide their smile whenever they saw her and were mesmerized by her innocence.

[josefavomjaaga]

Napoleonic daily soap, episode 5: 12 Vendémiaire

Scene: The Tuileries. Evening, torch lights. People running to and fro, soldiers gathering in the courtyard, scared members of the Convention barricading themselves.

Cut to Barras’ improvised war room. A table with a map of Paris. Barras walks up and down behind it, talking to some generals gathered in front of him, among them Brune and Napoleon.

Barras:

„I do not need to tell you, gentlemen, that the situation is dire. I mean, we’re having a real crisis here, with people wanting to kill us. Again. Royalists this time. And as I do not know the first thing about military stuff, I have called for you, so that you can take care…“

Napoleon [cuts him off]:

„Why, of course you would have. And it’s a good thing you did. [walks briskly up to the table and leans over the map, the other generals follow suite, completely ignoring Barras] So, let’s see. The obvious keypoints we have to protect are [points at the map] here, here and here.“

Brune [annoyed]:

„Possibly. But what makes you think you are giving the orders here? Don’t you think you should ask our opinion first?“

Napoleon [astonished]:

„Why? I mean, is there something I overlooked, do you not agree with me?“

Brune:

„No, you’re quite right, it’s just that…“

Napoleon:

„Well, excellent. Listen, Brune, you take a couple of men and position yourself here. The other gentlemen occupy the rest of the positions I have pointed out. [turns around to Barras] And as I am the only artilleryman here, I’ll take care of the canons. We’ll position them right at the entrance of the Tuileries, in order to give those insurgents a proper welcome.“

Barras [awkwardly]

„Well, about those canons… that might be a problem.“

Napoleon:

„What problem?“

Barras:

„We don’t have any.“

Napoleon:

„No canon? But I’m an artillery general. Why did you even call for me then?“

Barras:

„Well, I thought…“

Napoleon [annoyed]:

„I really do not like it when people waste my time. Or when an employer does not even provide the proper tools for the job. I am not used to bringing my own stuff to work, that’s highly annoying. But I can see that you are in deep shit indeed, so I will let it go. Where’s the next artillery depot?“

Barras:

„There are some canons in Sablons, I am told. But I’m afraid the royalists know that, too. They’re probably already on their way to get them. And as they do outnumber us, I doubt you will find somebody dumb… I mean: courageous enough to try and get those canons to Paris before them.“

CUT to new scene: Tuileries courtyard. Darkness, a fire burning. Several cavalrymen holding in the saddle, happily chatting with each other and with some foot soldiers nearby.

Murat [on a horse, proudly tugging at his pelisse, to a soldier]

„So, how do you like it?“

Soldier:

„I do not think it’s in accordance with army regulations for cavalry uniforms.“

Murat [grinning]

Of course it’s not. It has style, unlike our army regulations. Plus, it’s my favourite colour. You have to see it in daylight.

Another cavalryman:

„I have. It’s an eyesore.“

Murat:

„Correction. It would be an eyesore on you. On me, it’s the most fetching piece of clothing one can imagine, and I dare say the ladies will pay much attention to it.“

[Napoleon’s voice from off-screen]

„Hey, you there. On the horse!“

Soldier:

„I think he means you, Murat.“

Murat:

„Impossible. If he meant me, he would have said: Hey, you there, that most handsome and dashing one on the horse! [turns around, beams at Napoleon] What can I do for you, mon général?“

Napoleon [stops to regard him]:

„I do not think your uniform is quite in accordance with army regulations.“

Murat:

„That’s quite possible, sir. We’re cavalry.“

Napoleon:

„Whatever. I have an errand for you. Do you know where Sablons is? I need somebody to go there and pick up some canon for me.“

Murat:

„Sounds easy enough. Where’s the catch?“

Napoleon:

„You have to be back before daylight, and there’s a royalist mob on the way likely to attack you. Do you think you can do it?“

Murat [sits tall in the saddle, with dramatic flourish]:

„How can you even ask me that, general? Do not doubt me, I am Joachim Murat! Here we are, I and my men, to your service, ready to give our blood for the fatherland and its republic, ready to bring those canons here before rose-fingerend Eos awakens the day, or to die trying! Let all impertinent royalists of France stand in my way, let an army of ten thousand waylay us, it will not keep me from doing my sacred duty!“

Napoleon [stares at him open-mouthed, but without a word, as realization sets in]

„You are Gascon.“

Murat [beams, proudly]

„I sure am. [the smile vanishes, he leans down from his horse to Napoleon, in a serious tone] But I will still get you those canons, sir.“

Napoleon [nods]

„Be quick.“

[badass-at-fandoming]

Just Little Ventrue Things ~

I finished a Camarilla Ventrue run of VTMB. Mostly, the only thing Ventrue these days know how to do is Dominate, run screaming, eat hot chip, and lie, and [high falsetto voice] here’s a list of other nonsense I discovered:

PC’s name is Christina; she’s a Dominatrix because I’m bi. Her sire was one of her clients, and she’s actually very, very angry about his death. She doesn’t mind being a vampire. She’s Wiccan and part of a coven

In this Camarilla run, I decided I would only do quests given by Camarilla members. My justification was that, while Christina is intelligent and curious about lore, she focuses on tasks that immediately relate to her and her goals. She’s not curious about others; won’t go out of her way to talk to them. She’s not a bleeding heart, like my other PCs, and she believes in the Camarilla’s laws. She just hates LaCroix for killing her sire. Her plan during the game is to curry as much favor within the Cam as possible and cozy up to LaCroix so she can stab him.

Enough backstory

Nonsense time

Smiling Jack laughs at you if you don’t eat a rat in the tutorial. LOL. The Ventrue dialog is like “I could barely choke down the homeless man: please don’t make me eat a rat!”

The blood in the Santa Monica haven’s fridge is now blue blood. Does regular blood make Ventrue sick? I was too scared to experiment.

[spots Mercurio] I am going to steal that ghoul

Rosa: The people you’re looking for are up there. Christina, assuming Rosa is a Cam agent: Okay, thanks, bye

Never spoke to the Thin-Bloods again (sorry Lily baby ;-;)

Everyone except Julius still leaves when the PC reaches Hollywood

If you try to feed on Julius, he WILL kick you in the head and you WILL glitch into the fire, be on fire; run away screaming in Prada

You can skip the whole basement of the Ocean House Hotel if you manage to jump over the hole in the staircase???? Like?? You mean the spookiest fucking level has been optional this whole time I”M

[ghost appears] [Christina smacks it with an axe] None of that.

Club girls speak to Christina and I’m on the FLOOR

Therese “kills” Jeanette, even though I had enough oompa to make that not happen.

Therese joins the Camarilla and says she’s in good position to be the next Prince??? Hello??? Where is our Prince Voerman ending????

Went straight to LaCroix, called him “sir,” and he name-dropped Napoleon.

LaCroix tells Christina to go visit the Anarchs. She blows the Anarchs off (Nines made a growly face, Damsel dialog yowl-exited out after I asked if she wanted to join the Cam; Skelter threatened to murder me twice). When LaCroix told Christina that, while he admired her Cam loyalty, she must listen to her enemies to understand what they wanted, it felt like he was actually being a good sire and mentor.

That’s weird.

When Christina asked for his history, he very carefully explained his lineage, like the important part of Ventrue culture it is.

Overall, I found LaCroix-being-nice-to-me extremely unsettling.

Sir. Stop smiling at me, sir. Stop being impressed I don’t ask for money. STOP MAKING ME UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE LIKE YOU, SIR.

In contrast, LaCroix sounded genuinely betrayed at the end

Also made it more obvious when he started to lose track of his marbles

Ventrue PC seems juuuuuuust tall enough for her forehead to glitch into the ceiling of literally any confined space

The dirty Elizabeth Dane policeman didn’t psspspspsp at Christina so the whole ship was 15 white-knuckled minutes of making police dance and scuttling about

There is!!! A lot less!!! Talking in this game!!! Than I remember!!! She is only good at talking and ordering people around i am bEGGING

All EXP goes to Dominate and making Christina extremely charismatic and buff.

Ventrue himbo????

Beckett un-himbo-ifies her

She insults Beckett on their first meeting, spitting out “What do you want, wolfie?!” I thought this was appropriate because she died like, 4 times on that warehouse mission and was Extremely Stressed And Under Duress

Beckett’s response of “Oh, you’re too young to have mouthed off to the truly old ones yet.” makes his later snide remark of “the young ones are so temperamental” 900% funnier. Yeah, LaCroix! Beckett thinks I’ve grown and am now more mature than you! XD

Missions involving sex workers hit different when you’re a sex worker.

Christina was incandescent with rage at the Brotherhood

Grout’s mansion mission was a lot of “I have no interest in this nonsense.”

For the first time ever, I didn’t kill anyone during the Museum quest! This is because Christina ran very fast and Dominated every guard as quickly as possible. Every single fucking guard knew she was there, but could do nothing about it, because they were dancing. The door to the sarcophagus locked (it will do this if too many guards are agro), but locked doors are no match for noclip hack.

Entertaining image of a tall woman absolutely blasting into this museum room and Beckett tackling her to the floor like wait! I must snark at you! You are legally obligated to speak with me!

Isaac is still somehow a pretty chill guy to work with if you’re Camarilla.

Christina didn’t visit VV or Ash. Interestingly, Ash didn’t show up at the hunter monastery later. Did he just die in his club? Is he still there, waiting, deciding?

Christina @ Andrei: what the fuck is this shit

“I don’t care. It’s ugly. Clean it up.”

SEWERS.

Not as bad as I was expecting

Did take shortcut, run away from fights, ducked out in the middle for a snack, and bring 7 blue blood packs tho

Gary threatened to shred her face with a cheese grater, which I thought was Toreador only dialog?? It must be connected to the Appearance Stat. Which Christina has maxed out.

When Heather became Christina’s ghoul, I was delighted because I thought this meant Christina would always have fresh blood.

No

If you ask to feed on her too soon after the last time, Heather says she feels light headed and wants to lie down. The dialog exits out

I love you, Heather bb

Perfected the art of nudging NPCs into corners

Mitnick’s quests now feature Enforced Nap Time for all guards

Seriously, Dominate is ridiculously powerful, hooooly shit. I get why people like it. I also like it when people do things I ask them to do.

Christina can’t sneak, but she CAN strongly encourage everyone to choke on their own tongues.

Very high contrast in the beginning of the game: 2 punches would knock her over, but anyone she spoke to would obey immediately and without question

Chinatown goes by ridiculously fast if you can’t sneak and don’t do any sidequests besides Mitnick’s.

For the first time ever, Zhao survived! This is because Christina made him take a nap.

He just told her to leave

You’re welcome, my good dude

IDK if it’s a game glitch, but Christina would vocalize? In battle, she grunts with effort and pain.

Got to the point where I kept expecting Dominate dialog in every interaction and would get disappointed if it didn’t show up. What do you mean I have to actually convince people? That’s lame.

Christina was polite and charming to Ming Xiao, who also conveyed a deeper betrayal than normal at the end. ;-;

I promise to give you a Ventrue boy toy soon, Xiao

Finale arc quests went by VERY FAST because Christina can’t sneak for shit. Just run in, Dominate blazing

You can skip the outside bit of the Hallowbrook Hotel if you find the open door on the top level what the fuuuuuuuuuCK

[“A Little Party Never Killed Nobody” plays while Christina wipes out the Sabbat in 10 minutes]

Andrei disappeared mid-fight and didn’t come back until I complained that only I was allowed to run away from boss fights

I’m categorizing “triggering the interaction to save Heather” as something quite difficult to do. The timing has to be just right. I’ve missed it twice now. BUT hacking into the game to save her is easy.

I love you, Heather bb

Final Beckett talk had the vibe of “You’re a very different person than me, but you’re also High Humanity and trying to do good. You don’t deserve to die.”

Damsel threatens to kick the shit out of Christina and is extremely reluctant to tell her where Nines is

“Out of all people, they send you? All right, let’s just talk terms.” - Nines because Christina was short with him one (1) time

WEREWOLF HARD

You can just?? Walk out of your haven?? Without speaking to Jack at all???

I didn’t do that

But I could have

[”Dust in the Wind” plays while Christina kills entire Camarilla hit squad in 3 minutes]

You can visit Mercurio and Trip on your way out of Santa Monica??

Mercurio makes no comment on the blood hunt. Business as usual with him. This is fine.

Christina: I’m SO going to adopt that ghoul. And perhaps Isaac can be convinced to part with Romero...

(For the first time ever, my PC boinked Romero. Twice, to receive the break up email)

This is definitely a glitch, but Christina brushed up against Caine, and a worried voice said, “Are you all right?” It sounded like the same voice actor, but a higher pitch?

Always nice to think about Caine demonstrating care

Christina asked Caine who he is, and Caine replied that he “gets people where they’re going. [He’s] a driver,”  which is a nice nod (lol) to both his literal job as a driver and as a shepherd/creator/god to Kindred. Caine creates and makes fate.

Caine triple checks with Christina that she’s sure Strauss won’t betray her. Thanks, Vampire Dad. :’D

For some reason, only other Ventrue guarded LaCroix’s tower. I wonder if this is intentional. Like all the other Camarilla Clans backed Strauss and left? So only LaCroix’s Ventrue lackeys remain? Anyway, it created some weird moments where Christina fought her double.

KILL YOUR DOUBLE

Sheriff laughed in haughty joy that he was to kill Christina. I don’t remember him laughing in other playthroughs.

Christina ruining Caine and Jack’s prank oh noes

[deja-you]

times new roman | episode eight

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Y/n needs a date. Thomas would be more than happy to oblige. 

word count: 1.8k

masterlist | previous | next

“You’ve kissed me twice now.”

It was a plain, straight-forward statement. There was no expectation or insinuation behind his words, merely a fact. Even though Thomas held no malevolence, Y/n couldn’t help but be defensive. 

“Well, you kissed me back.”

“I’m not going to apologize for that.”

She cocked her head to the side and stared at him. “Then I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

Thomas sighed and shrugged his jacket over his shoulders. “Look, angel, all I’m saying is that you can’t keep kissing me and then pretending like I don’t exist. Either you need to stop kissing me or we need to talk this out.” 

“Talk this out?”

“Yeah. We could go get lunch and talk about it.”

“Sounds kind of like a date.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this you saying no?”

She weighed her options and shrugged. “It’s not.”

“Are you...” Thomas was doing his best not to get his hopes up. “Are you saying yes?”

“Yes, Thomas.”

A full-on smile spread across his face at this. He bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Great! I know this fantastic pla-- damn.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I completely forgot,” Thomas sucked his bottom lip under his teeth, his brows furrowing in frustration, “I promised my second cousin I’d meet with him to discuss a case.”

“It’s okay, I understand. We can just have this conversation over text,” she suggested. 

He fervently shook his head. “No, no. I want to take you out on a proper date. I want to do this right.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she laughed, “since when have you cared, anyway?”

“Since it’s been you.” Thomas’s eyes softened.

“Oh.”

Y/n stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time. Thomas really cared about her, didn’t he? She should’ve noticed a long time ago that he was more than just the flirtatious, big-shot lawyer who had responded to her tweet weeks ago. Maybe Y/n would’ve noticed if she hadn’t been so focused on falling in love with him, a task that she was currently failing. 

Thomas checked his watch and grimaced. “Okay, how about this. I’ll run down to meet with John, and then when I get back I’ll take you out to lunch. It will take 45 minutes, an hour tops.”

“Okay.” When he looked at her with those pleading eyes, there was no way Y/n could’ve said no. 

“You’re welcome to use anything in the apartment. The shower, the coffee machine, whatever you need,” he smiled softly, grabbing his briefcase and heading to the door. Before Thomas could close the door behind him, he paused. 

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave, angel.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Thomas offered her one last smile before leaving his apartment and sprinting down the hallway to minimize the amount of time he would be gone. When he was gone, Y/n finally had a moment to think. That’s when she remembered what she was wearing. 

“Shit,” she muttered. She couldn’t exactly wear an oversized t-shirt and underwear to lunch, and Y/n wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of wearing an evening gown, either. Finding her phone on the bedside table, she quickly began to craft a message to Peggy. 

“I don’t like him. I’ve just kissed him a few times and now I’m going on a date with him,” Y/n said fifteen minutes later when Peggy showed up with a change of clothes. 

“You’re in denial.”

“No, I’m in the Upper East Side, currently. Why would I be in a river in Egypt?”

“DENIAL. Not the nile. You know exactly what I meant, don’t play dumb with me.” Peggy crossed her arms, and took a moment to appreciate the dark wood in Thomas’s kitchen. “Now I knew Jefferson was rich, but I didn’t know he was this rich.”

Y/n shrugged. “He comes from old money, and then he has the money he makes as a corporate lawyer on top of that.”

“Is he like, your sugar daddy, then?” Peggy raised an eyebrow. 

“I swear,” Y/n grumbled under her breath. “We both know I don’t need a sugar daddy.”

Peggy shrugged. “You could do a lot worse than Jefferson. That man is fine. I still don’t believe that nothing happened between you two last night.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to have to do to convince you that nothing happened,” Y/n sighed. “I promise you nothing happened.”

“Are you... are you disappointed?” Peggy asked.

“Stop projecting your thoughts onto me,” Y/n snapped, but a part of her had to wonder if she actually was disappointed. She shook her head. “Okay, enough from you. You need to go before Thomas gets back. I’ll catch you up on everything later.”

“You’re calling him Thomas now? I’m sure he’d prefer da--”

“Get out,” Y/n hissed, shoving her friend out the door.

Y/n was in a rush to get dressed and ready before Thomas got back. She finished getting ready in record time, and then found that she was left with nothing to do. After absent-mindedly scrolling through her phone for a few minutes, Y/n grew bored and decided to go on a self-guided tour of Thomas Jefferson’s apartment. 

The first stop was the bathroom. Immaculately clean counter, a large mirror with lights behind it, and a fucking rain shower. Who even owned a rain shower in New York City? Still, Y/n was wishing she had taken Thomas up on that previous offer to use his shower. How good would that rain shower feel? And if she was imagining Thomas’s hands on her in the shower, nobody would have to know. 

After briefly fixing up her appearance in the mirror, Y/n ventured into the kitchen which was connected to a living room with a grand piano, shelves full of books, and an incredible view of New York. Thomas owned nearly every classic book, from To Kill a Mockingbird to A Tale of Two Cities. There were stacks of books on the coffee table because there wasn’t enough room on one of his many shelves, and Y/n was reminded that she had seen even more books in his work office.

“Someone get this man a Kindle,” she muttered to herself as she weaved her way.

Y/n tensed when she heard keys in the door and the handle begin to jiggle. Logically, it would make sense that it was just Thomas returning. But this was still New York City. Y/n grabbed a larger book off the table, something by Tolstoy, and raised it up just in case an intruder walked through the door. 

Finally, the door swung open, and Thomas entered his apartment. He froze when he saw Y/n staring at him, book raised in the air in preparation for attack. Thomas blinked a few times and adjusted his glasses -- he hadn’t been wearing them this morning, had he? How did he look so good in them?

“Angel, were you about to assault me with my own library?” He asked curiously. 

Y/n cringed inwardly and lowered the book. “I just wanted to be prepared in case it wasn’t you and someone was breaking in.”

Thomas laughed and shook his head. “What was your plan exactly? To subdue your attacker with tales from Napoleonic era Russia?”

“I don’t know, I hadn’t really thought that through. Maybe I’d throw it at them and make my escape,” she shrugged.

He set down his briefcase on the kitchen counter and made his way over to Y/n. Thomas stopped when they were standing nearly chest to chest and leaned forward to take the book out of her hand, his grin never faltering. 

“I’d ‘preciate it if you didn’t throw my books, angel. This is a collector’s edition.” Thomas placed the book safely back on the coffee table. “So how about that lunch?”

Y/n allowed a small smile. “Yes. Lunch. I’m starving.”

“Great! Well, not great that you’re starving-- I just mean, well. I want to take you to this place I know that has the best French cuisine in America.” His eyes lit up the way they always did when he started talking about something he was passionate about. The same way they lit up when he looked at her. “The head chef and I go way back.”

Y/n wouldn’t outwardly show how happy it made her to see Thomas this excited, but she felt all warm and cozy on the inside. Together, Thomas and Y/n left his apartment and they began walking a few blocks down to the restaurant that Thomas was so excited about.

As they walked, Thomas hummed softly, an ever-present grin on his face. Y/n felt herself staring at him while they walked, and quickly looked away when she saw him glance at her. She bit her lip gently, still trying to comprehend that she was actually going on a date with Thomas Jefferson. She must have been thinking hard, because eventually Y/n realized neither of them had spoken in a while.

“So how was coffee with your cousin?” She asked nervously, trying to fill the silence. 

“Not my cousin,” Thomas reminded her, “my second cousin.”

“And that matters because?” Y/n raised an eyebrow at Thomas’s defensiveness.

“Because he’s just so... liberal.” Thomas glanced at her and gave a sheepish smile. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken?” 

“Just can’t stand ‘im sometimes,” he shrugged. “Gets on my nerves.”

“Then why did you ditch me to get coffee with him?” She shoved her hands in her pockets and absently focused on matching her stride with Thomas’s.

“He’s family, I’d hear it from Ma if I didn’t treat him with that Southern hospitality. My second cousin, John Marshall’s just starting off in law and my aunt thought I could give him some tips,” he said. Thomas glanced at Y/n, “sorry, angel, am I boring you with this?”

“No, no,” Y/n insisted. “I’m fascinated. Is he working on an interesting case?”

Thomas grinned. “Actually, yeah. He’s working on this criminal case where a defendant had been coerced into a confession. Somehow John’s roped me into being his co-counsel.”

Y/n’s eyebrows shot up into her hair line. “You’re working on a criminal justice case?”

He glanced at you, his grin widening at the look on your face. “I know you like to think I’m just a corporate sellout, but I do my fair share of pro bono cases.”

“Didn’t realize you had any expertise in that area of law,” she said with a shrug.

“First job out of law school, I spent some time working at the D.A.’s office. Got a lot of experience around prosecutors and defense attorneys. Thought I’d go into criminal law for a while,” he mused.

Y/n studied his features carefully. “What made you change your mind?”

“Well, angel, when the George Washington comes knocking on your door and specifically asks for you, you don’t turn him down,” Thomas laughed.

“Ah, I see. Do you ever wish you hadn’t switched to corporate law?” She asked.

They had arrived at the restaurant Thomas had picked out, and they paused on the sidewalk as he considered the question.

“Sometimes I think about it,” he admitted. Thomas looked over at Y/n, smiled, and pulled the door open for her. “But I think I made the right decision.”

tags:

@dovesgrangers @lovelymrvl  @wiffle-snuffles @thisistrashperson @comingupwithacoolnameishard @wordvomit-foryourmind @newtonslawoffuck @isharemydeathdaywithfeanor @i-know-i-can @imperial-martian @fangirling-central @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera @justahappylilblog @fanfic-addict-98 @a-hopeless-fan @and-claudia @nicolemelton @youtxbemusic @reidcult @eirenism @fantasy-of-fiction @iamsuperconfusedallthetime-dead @a-midwinter-night-dream-86 @rycbar-221b @bethanymccauley @fanworrior @gggamingz @nemesis729 @ibeaesthethicc  @yodas-padawan @sabbrriiinnaa @micaiahmoonheart @beautifulfound @moondustmemories @ct-salad @teenwaywardasgardian @bj-is-a-graduateof-julliard @ruebx @katierpblogg @speedypartyducksuitcase @fangirling-central @idkkbaleighh @ballerinafairyprincess @spn-pogues @gryffin-claw @elegantbutedgy @1elysium @sierraisnotreal @ssanjuniperoo @collectivefandom @lilbabyhoneypot @lunariasilver @justcallmemama @atleastidontdotiktoks @mistrose23 @checkurwindow @fluffydmonkey @pettyjayy @rosesinmars @cubedtriangle @itsjube @zeelmol @ems-alexandra @yavin4andor @daveeds-whore @someinsanefangirl @theatrenerd86 @poetnstuff @ohsoverykeri-blog @im-sidney @omgyouburtmyeggos @astralaffairs @nyxie75 @mydearestlaurens @janessawonderwall @the-middle-oldest-child @emtinuviel

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[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 4.5 OR Chapter 5

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You miss Seokjin.   You know that you shouldn’t, but in the middle of the night while you’re unable to sleep, you pick up your phone again. And you send him a text.   2:03 am. Y/N: hey   The bright screen stares back at you, illuminating your face and blinding your vision in the darkness of your quiet dorm room. Your messages are lined up in a row, the same exact text left unanswered. Ones you sent from a week ago to two days ago.   The radio silence makes the realization sink in — he broke it off. Jin really has no plans of communicating with you again, of giving you an explanation other than telling you that it’s run its course and that you’re not the one at fault.   It doesn’t sit well with you, so your thumb moves, quicker than you can list the consequences for. You call his number. It dials. But instead of hearing the tone ring, you hear an automated message.   Seokjin changed his number.   //   It’s morning while on the way to class with you hiding beneath the hood of Jin’s sweater that you end up catching sight of someone familiar walking towards your direction. It’s your only strand of hope, but you step forward before the opportunity is lost. “Hani?”   “Y/N?” Hani stops and greets you with a smile. She’s a friend — well, Seokjin’s friend. But she still regards you with the same warmth as she gave to you for the past two years, albeit the atmosphere is awkward.    The both of you know what happened, know it’s looming over your heads. But no one speaks about it, no one dares to broach the subject. “Hey, how are you?” And her question is asked at a higher pitch, cautious as if you were a wounded animal that she was afraid of scaring.   “I’m...fine, how are you?”   “I’m okay.” Hani nods and gathers the courage to approach the issue that you’re skirting around. “I...heard about what happened. It’s a real shame. I hope you’re holding up well.”   “Trying.” You muster a smile, shrugging your shoulders.   Yet in spite of her friendliness, you can still feel it — the distance.    Like you thought, they sided with him. They’ve chosen him with no plans of getting between you two and involving themselves in the conflict. “Well, I should go. I might be late. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”   You nod and she brushes past you. But then you twist on your heel. “Hani?”   “Yeah?” She spins around.   “Did,” you hesitate, “Jin say anything about me?”   “No, he didn’t,” she says, quietly and sadly.   You bob your head again, meeting her eye. “How is he?”   “He’s okay.”   You wonder what that means — if he never really cared, if he’s already over this. But you’re also glad that he’s okay. You’ll never have any ill wishes against Jin. You still love him.

Jungkook and his friends have a system, if one could call it that — a shitty system of crashing each other’s dorms. Sometimes they’re crowding around Taehyung’s gaming consoles, other times it’s Jimin’s computer. Or Jungkook’s flat screen that he spent his entire summer job’s savings for. Or even going to Hoseok and Yoongi’s apartment to raid the fridge and be as loud as they want without getting noise complaints.   Hoseok and Yoongi didn’t like the dorm life, so they were willing to raise their living expenses and pool their money together for an apartment off campus. And that’s where Jungkook finds himself this evening.   They’re watching a soccer game, but the only person invested is Taehyung who actually knows the teams and who is who. Hoseok is preoccupied pigging out on the snacks, Yoongi sipping his drink, and Jimin is playing a game on his phone.   “Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks out of the blue, smacking his lips after taking a swig of the beer. He can’t wait till Taehyung gets curious and drinks some — he’d probably gag from the taste.   Yoongi looks up. “What?”   “It’s not about me, but I have a friend of a friend and this friend of theirs was...dumped pretty badly and now they’re depressed and not talking...at all….and they don’t really have friends anymore because all their friends were my friend’s friends, so it really sucks for them.”   “Uh-huh.”   “So what would you hypothetically say to my friend’s friend to make them feel better or like what would you do?”   “Well, for one, I’d take Y/N out,” Hoseok pipes up while chuckling.   Jimin lifts his head and Taehyung looks over. The two of them exchange expressions and burst out laughing. Jungkook sighs in irritation. “Who said this was about Y/N?!”   “We’re not total idiots, dude.” Jimin grins. “Sometimes.”   In the meanwhile, Taehyung leans down to give a punch to Jungkook’s arm and winks. “Trying to slide into her DMs now that she’s single, huh? I see you, Kook. Still got game. Can’t say I’m not impressed. Go get that puss—”   “As if.” Jungkook scoffs. “I just feel bad, alright? Forget I asked. Whatever.”   But Yoongi isn’t ready to drop the subject quite yet. His cat-like eyes narrow in on him as he sips on his drink. He puts the bottle down on the coffee table with a clank. “Since when did you start caring about her?”   “I don’t—”   “You don’t have to get defensive,” Yoongi deadpans boredly. He isn’t that interested, merely stating a fact. “I’m just surprised.”   “She’s going to be my internship partner whether I like it or not in a few months.” The youngest sighs. “I don’t want to make it awkward. And I thought it would be better in the long run if we become friends now. It would be nice to have each other’s backs. Or at least be civil enough where she’s not trying to rip my head off every other second.”   Yoongi appears mildly understanding and nods. “So it’s a diplomatic thing.”   “Yeah.”   “Invite her to our game night,” Hoseok says from the kitchen.   “Don’t do that.” Yoongi scoffs, expression wrinkled like he bit into a lemon. “It’s our thing.”   “Are we ten? Boys only?” Hoseok argues, “We already have our thing every single night anyway. Plus, it might be a nice change since Jungkook always wins.”   “Fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Do whatever you want.”   “That actually sounds kind of fun!” Taehyung grins, tearing his eyes away from the soccer game. Jungkook’s amazed that he had half a mind to pay attention to the conversation. “But I wonder if Y/N is any good at board games or if she even plays.”   “Is everyone cool with me asking?” Jungkook looks around — Hoseok and Taehyung are enthusiastic about the prospect while Yoongi is passive aggressive at worst and apathetic at best.   It’s Jimin who looks uncertain.   “She’s….intimidating,” he mutters. “But….I think you’re right. Y/N looks like she’s having a tough time and if we can help, then we should. At least then we know we tried.”   He nods. There’s only one issue left. “I don’t even know if she’ll even accept…”   Knowing you, you might just laugh in his face and then spit at him for even making such a suggestion. Then again, with how you’ve been acting lately, you might just start crying from gratefulness and freak him out. Both scenarios are equally horrible.

The pair of you bake alongside each other as the teacher watches for technique and the order of the procedures done. Jungkook works on the dough while you focus on the custard filling. It’s surprisingly perfect teamwork — you’re in sync with one another and assemble the final cake together.   And when the teacher returns to eat it, he’s astounded that it’s been exactly replicated. From the taste to the presentation.   You leave the room with a ninety percent grade, having absolutely aced the midterm.   “That was pretty good, huh?!” Jungkook grins, putting his hand out. You muster a small smile, and high-five him back.   “Yeah.”   “Man, all our hard work paid off! Did you see the look on Mr. Chu’s face?”   He was over the moon, especially considering that napoleon cake isn’t all that easy to make under strict time constraints. But when Jungkook glances at you, you don’t seem very happy over it. Your eyes are on the floor with your downcast head.   “Hey.” The doe-eyed boy pokes your shoulder until you look up at him. “Do you wanna…”   “Pardon?” Your brows furrow. His voice became so quiet, you couldn’t hear him.   Jungkook clears his throat noisily. “I asked how you were holding up?”   You shrug. “Fine. I don’t know. Do you really want to hear about it?”    You doubt he would trouble himself with your problem, but what catches you off guard is that he stops in the middle of the hallway and nods. You stop with him too. “Sure. Shoot.”   “Really?”   “Yeah, I don’t see why not. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”   You inhale a deep breath. It catches in your throat. Your fist tightens, nails digging into your skin. You swear you wouldn’t cry again. “I texted Jin, even though I know it wasn’t a good idea and yeah, it wasn’t. He changed his number.”   “Oh….shit.”   “And I talked to one of his friends yesterday and she said he’s doing fine. He hasn’t really talked about me. And I don’t really know what any of that means. I haven’t seen him around either. I think he’s avoiding me and I can’t help thinking about what I did that was so wrong for me to be treated this way. I don’t….I don’t think I deserve this.” You exhale a shallow breath, eyes stinging painfully.   Jungkook suddenly plops his hand on the top of your head. You frown at him and he realizes what he’s doing and withdraws his hand awkwardly. “That really...sucks.”   “Yeah, thanks, I know.”   “Sorry, I don’t really know what to say.”   “You don’t have to say anything,” you tell. “Thanks for not laughing, I guess.”   “Why would I laugh?” Jungkook asks, genuinely confused. You shrug.    You always thought Jungkook would be the first to applaud your misery — he’d goad you and cheer you when you’d cry. You guess you severely misjudged him. “Are you free tonight?”   “Why?”   “My friends and I are doing this thing.” Jungkook scratches the back of his neck and diverts his vision elsewhere. “We meet up to play games sometimes. It’s really Taehyung’s thing cause he’s the one who likes games, but if you’re free, then you should come along. We’re in need of new players actually, cause it gets boring when it’s the same people over and over again….”   “Would they mind?”   He swallows hard, taking in the way your head is quirked to the side, your eyes big and glimmering with hope. It seems like you’re taking him up on the offer or at least considering it and he’s pleasantly surprised. “No, no, they wouldn’t.”   “I don’t want to make it weird or anything…”   “No, you wouldn’t. Trust me. They’re just a bunch of lame dorks, and you kind of already know Taehyung and Jimin. They’re nice guys. So if you wanna come, you should. No pressure whatsoever though.”   “Sure.” The corners of your mouth lifts.   “Really?”   “Yeah. That’s….okay, right?”   “Totally. Yep. I’ll text you where and what time.”   You never knew one day you’d be going off campus to some random apartment for a night of game boards, much less with Jeon Jungkook. Part of you is skeptical about his offer, envisioning that he’s catfishing you somehow, that there isn’t actually anything happening and he’ll text you ‘sike’ after making you wait hours.    But then you remind yourself that he hasn’t been exactly an asshole lately and that you’re not in the cruel world of High School anymore. Jungkook would have to be sick to prank you in this state.   You can already hear the boisterous noise on the other side of the door before you even knock. But after some hesitation, the sounds taper off when you do.    The door swings open and Jungkook greets you with his doe eyes and messy dark hair flopping in different directions. He’s in a black shirt and loose, gray sweatpants, casual unlike how he usually dresses for class and the kitchen.   “Hey!” He reaches in to give you a quick hug. You stiffen and he lets go. “Come in!”   “Finally, she’s here!” Hoseok stands from the couch with his beer and moves to the table Taehyung’s setting up.   “Sorry, am I late?”   “Right on time actually,” Jimin says with a gentle smile.   “Beer or cooler or wine?” Yoongi suddenly asks, twisting around from the fridge.   “A-Any.” It’s fast paced, but they’re welcoming. There’s not a moment for awkwardness to settle in. Yoongi comes over with a beer can, tosses it, and you catch it with both hands. “Thanks.”   “We usually start with a game of good ol’ Janga.” Taehyung grins from his spot at the table. “Usually the person who goes before the loser gets to pick the next game, but since you’re our guest of honour, you can pick. There’s a whole shelf of them over there.”   He gestures towards the living room and you head over to look at the boxes that are accumulating. There’s a ton of boxes stack on each other on the shelf — The Game of Life, Risk, Twister, Battleship, Monopoly, Connect Four, Snakes and Ladders, and even CandyLand.   “What’s this?” you ask, pointing at the bottom shelf with a huge bin. There seems to be small bags inside, place mats, and books too.   “It’s stuff for D&D,” Jungkook clarifies with a sigh, popping a can of beer open to drink. “Dungeons and Dragons.”   “Taehyung’s been wanting to get us to play,” Jimin tells with a smile.   “I’m a great DM,” Taehyung chirps, “It would be so much fun, but we don’t really have time for a whole campaign. Otherwise I’d pull together official content and stuff from Unearthed Arcana and run a module from Wizards of the Coast—”   “Alright, nerd.” Yoongi sighs after a swig. “I’m not trying to re-virgin myself and remain abstinent for the rest of my life, alright? You can do that by yourself.”   “Don’t hate on my game, bitch,” Taehyung spits as Jimin and Jungkook laugh. A smile comes to your face and it isn’t one you have to muster for once. “Wait till the day you come to me and ask me advice on what kind of spells a halfling bard should have at level six.”   “Over my dead body.”   “Okay, can we not argue for once? We have a guest.” Hoseok intercepts with his hands out, literally standing between them. “Let’s try to not scare her off?”   You go back to looking, but you can’t seem to decide what game to play. “There’s a lot.”   “It’s not ours,” Yoongi pipes up again, wearing a friendly smile that is more like a smirk. “This is Hoseok and I’s place. Taehyung just always finds a way to put his shit here too.”   “Hey! That’s cause no one else has a big table like this at their dorm, plus my place is too messy to store my precious games there. They’re expensive, you know.”   “All I know is that somehow I always come home to furniture and clothes on my bed that I swear I didn’t purchase….”   “Alright, alright.” Hoseok intervenes for the second time, having enough of this nonsense. “Is the game done being set up or what? Y/N come sit, you can choose the game later.”   You gather around the table with Jungkook beside you. He leans in while the others are figuring out who gets to start and what direction to go in. “Sorry about that.”   “No, it’s okay,” you say and mean it too. “Your friends are a lot of fun.”   Yet the moment the game begins, there’s a shift in the atmosphere. It goes quieter, less fooling around as it intensely dials down. There are half-lidded stares across the table, snarky remarks exchanged. They’re a competitive group and you feel a lot of pressure to perform well.   Jimin seems to go for the easy blocks. Hoseok tries to make it more difficult for the next person. Yoongi is the designated asshole, going for the second top layer while Taehyung argues that it isn’t even allowed. On the other hand, Jungkook somehow flicks the Jenga block with his middle finger and thumb. He’s cocky about his technique, leaning back as his arm drapes over the back of your chair. He runs his tongue on the inside of his cheek with his brow lifted.    You remember why you fucking hated him now. He’s so unbearable sometimes.   “What?” He looks at you when he finds you staring.   You frown at him. And for a second Jungkook gets a glimpse of the bitch he remembers — the one he misses. “Why do you have to be so extra about it? Who are you trying to impress?”   “Right?!” Taehyung stands up and the entire stack of blocks nearly topples over. “I keep trying to tell him that! It’s so goddamn annoying! You won’t even believe it!”   “Watch it,” Hoseok shouts, “You’re going to make it tip over.”   That’s when you become fired up. You’ve never felt this kind of motivation surging between your veins before. But it’s not a thirst to win — it’s a ravenous hunger to beat Jeon Jungkook.   And you do.   After playing to Hoseok’s tactic and being an asshole, you risk it all to remove an important block and it collapses on Jungkook right as he tries to remove another.   Then there are screams — hoots, hollers, like your country won the damn world cup. You stand up and everyone cheers. Hoseok chest bumps you. Taehyung lifts you up and spins you in a circle. Jimin starts to record the moment on his phone and even Yoongi pats you on the back.   “God, why are you guys making such a big deal,” Jungkook moans, still seated at the table, embarrassed from all the teasing.   “Maybe because you’ve never lost anything in your life!” Taehyung laughs in his face, rubbing his loss where it hurts.   “Say something for the camera.” Jimin sticks his phone right between Jungkook’s eyes, and dodges with giggles when Jungkook tries to slap it away.   “Hey, send me that.” Yoongi points. “I’m going to post it on facebook for my grandma to see.”   “Has Jungkook really not lost any game we’ve played before?” Hoseok questions, the realization finally hitting him and the gravity of the situation sinking down onto his shoulders.   “I don’t think so,” Jimin says after sincerely contemplating for a long moment.   “Oh shit. You’re our lucky charm!” Hoseok slings his arm over your shoulder, giving you finger guns and winking.   It’s ridiculous but you’re beginning to believe it too — especially when the game you pick is Uno and it ends up with a similar outcome.   Somehow, someway, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi finish their cards and the only people who are left are you and Jungkook. The tensions are high and you see the sweat accumulating at his hairline. It’s apparent that he’s never even been second last in a game before.   You’re so close to victory, you can taste it. You’re down to a single card while he has three more.   Jungkook slowly places down a wild card. “What colour do you want, Y/N?”   “Hmmmm.” You rest your chin in your palm, arm propped up on the table. You glance at your card before looking straight at him, locking your gaze together. “Would you even choose the colour I pick?”   “I just want to hear what you want.”   “Fine. I want yellow. Please?” You bat your lashes. “Pretty please, JK?”   The ass smirks. “Red.”   “I knew you’d say that,” you sigh. Your fingers reach down to the pile to grab another card, but then your other hand slaps down — slamming a red four onto the pile. Your arms shoot in the air. Again, it triggers cheers. “I win!”   Jungkook throws back his head and groans. He tosses his one red and one blue card left onto the table. What’s worse is the way you gather with all his friends — the five of you huddled together with arms around one another, like you’re preparing for a football game. But instead, you’re all hopping and cheering while belting out the national anthem.   You’ve stolen his own friends from right under his nose.   But despite how the loss is rubbed in his face, Jungkook’s happy that it seems like for a moment, you’ve returned to yourself again.   Eventually, the games go so much into the night that you have to bid your goodbyes. You didn’t know Jungkook’s group of friends were so easy to get along and get comfortable with. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the time passed so quickly and you’re sad to leave.   Hoseok and Taehyung hug you until Yoongi has to help you pry them off.   “I’ll miss you so much,” Taehyung fake cries. “You and the way you absolutely demolish Jungkook.”   “Oh please.” Jungkook rolls his eyes.   “I’ll come back...if you’ll have me again.”   “Are you kidding? Of course!”   “You have to come back,” Jimin insists with a sheepish smile like it should be obvious. “You’re good at Monopoly, right?”   You shrug. “I’ve been told I’m decent.”   “You better be.” Yoongi grins. “I’ll expect you to win against Kook.”   “I’ll try my best.”   “Let me walk you back,” Jungkook says as you grab your coat. You look at him and he elaborates, “It’s a long way back to the dorm and I’m tired too. Gonna call it an early night.”   “Oh, okay.”   The two of you get ready to leave, and at the doorway, you turn around one last time. “Thanks for having me.”   “No problem.” Hoseok smiles. “Come back soon.”   You think this is the longest time you’ve been without crying for the past month. It went by too quickly — you wish you could do it all over again. But you consider how lucky Jungkook is. He has great friends and surrounds himself with great people. You’re jealous.   The night is silent except for the sound of your shoes against the cement of the sidewalk. You’re illuminated by the lamp posts above you and you watch your shadows alongside Jungkook’s.   The air is cold enough that you can see your breath as you exhale. Jungkook’s own hands are dug into his pockets, but the chill makes you feel alive.   “Sorry about them. I know they can get a bit much.”   “It’s okay. They’re really nice actually.”   “Yeah, they are.”   “I had a lot of fun.” You steal a glance at him.   Jungkook’s doe eyes widen, the corners of his mouth quirking. “Really? I’m glad.”   “It was a lot of fun destroying you.”   “Wow.” He laughs. “Okay.”   It makes you giggle too.    You know what he’s been doing. From him listening to everything you have to say and doing more than necessary during the midterms. From that time he called you over in the dining hall to sit with him to tonight, bringing you over to play games with his friends….   “Thanks, Jungkook.”   “Hm?”   “Thanks,” you repeat, looking at him, and he meets your eye. “For helping me. I don’t think I’ve said it yet. But I really appreciate it.”   “Yeah, it’s not a big deal, really.”   “It’s a big deal to me.” Your gaze softens. At the moment you had no one, he was there. You didn’t know you would find such an unlikely friendship during such a hard time, but you don’t mind at all.   Jeon Jungkook is your friend.

[fandom-collective-writers]

Vanilla Sweetened (Napoleon Bonaparte x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Napoleon Bonaparte x MC

Prompt: Ice cream

Warning: Smut!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 1,895

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsisterxotome​ (Click here to support me on ko-fi!<3)

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Vampire or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: Wanted to get this out in time for his birthday, but it ended up being a few days late anyway. There aren’t enough hours in the day!!

       Speechless, breathless, way too hot - that was how she felt right now as her lover licked up the side of her hand, collecting the sweet, melted cream dripping down it on his tongue. 

       Heated green eyes bored into her as Napoleon hummed, licking his lips. He silently challenged her to make the next move, the white tips of his hair brushing beautifully flushed cheeks, but she was still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. One second she’d been making ice cream, thinking it would be a nice treat for the residents of the mansion considering the summer heat, and the next second her lover’s mouth had been all over her vanilla-sweetened fingers. 

       After spending most of the day boiling and whipping and freezing, MC had thought to try some of the ice cream before giving it to the others, scooping two perfect curls of the cold confection into a bowl. As she did, she’d managed to get some of it on her hand and it quickly melted against the warmth of her skin. It just so happened that at that perfect moment, Napoleon had walked into the kitchen to the sight of her hand covered in creamy white, and after a second of surprise, he’d grabbed her hand, intent on cleaning her up and making her even dirtier in the process. 

       “N-Napoleon,” she stuttered, her cheeks hot. “W-What are you…?”

       “Tastes good,” he replied, the tip of her index finger still resting against his lips. “Is there more?”

       “Yes?” She didn’t quite know what she was agreeing to.

       “Bring some to my room,” he said, punctuating the command with a nip to her fingertip. There was something mischievous in his gaze, set aflame by desire, and she suddenly lost the ability to form coherent words, nodding eagerly instead. With a smirk he swept out of the kitchen, leaving her heart tugging after him.

       Her legs suddenly felt so weak, and she almost dropped all her hard work on the floor as she put the container of ice cream away and grabbed up the bowl she’d made. MC had to keep herself from running to Napoleon’s room, barely watching where she was going as thoughts of what was about to happen swirled through her mind in vibrant images that brought a welcome heat to her cheeks.

       Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she placed her hand on the doorknob and pushed it open, her heart thumping in her ears. She’d barely walked across the threshold before a familiar grasp snatched her up, setting the bowl in her hands aside before pinning her against the wall in a storm of hot lips and wandering hands.

       Napoleon was already half undressed, his shirt and jacket discarded in a heap on the floor, and his hands made quick work of her blouse, nearly popping the buttons in his haste to expose her clothed breasts. A knee parted her legs, hiking her skirt up, and she cried out as his thigh ground against her covered core, her hips rolling down to meet that delicious friction. 

       “N...ahh…” MC squeaked as he pulled the top of her corset down, breasts spilling into his waiting palms. “Napoleon...I need more…”

       His mouth silenced her mewls, his tongue dominating her own in a messy, vaguely sweet battle. The suffocating squeeze of the corset disappeared as he tugged the ribbons and clasps loose, growling into her mouth with the distinct sound of fabric tearing when he encountered a particularly stiff button. She yelped when his hands wrapped around the backs of her thighs and hoisted her legs around his waist, the bulge in his pants rubbing her through her soaked panties as he humped her.

       The tips of his fangs scraped over her pulse point, sending a shiver of pleasure through her body, but even then it wasn’t enough, or at least not in the way MC wanted it right now. If she didn’t slow things down, he was going to take her right there against the door...not that that would be necessarily bad, but she wanted to taste him first, wanted to see him writhe with pleasure under her touch before he bestowed that same pleasure on her.

       “Get on the bed,” she murmured against his ear, slipping one hand between their rolling bodies to palm his aching erection. Napoleon bucked against her hand, a feral glint in his glittering eyes, but did as told, setting her down to stalk away.

       Undoing the buttons of her skirt, she pulled it and her ruined panties down her legs, leaving her completely bare to her lover’s hungry gaze. The tent in his pants looked painful as she swished towards him, breasts swinging as she climbed onto the bed to kneel on all fours between his legs. Stroking one hand over his abs, she drew a deep groan from her lover when she squeezed his bulge. “Stop teasing, nunuche.”

       MC just smiled innocently, nuzzling him through his pants. “What if I want to keep going?” He growled at her mischief, but her grin just widened. “I promise you’ll enjoy it. Please?” Another squeeze convinced him, gritting his jaw as he fisted the sheets.

       “Fine...ha!...You win...Just...touch me already!”

       Giggling, she reached for his belt, freeing him from the rest of his clothing with a few awkward shuffles. Napoleon growled impatiently when she took a moment to admire him, all toned thighs and carved muscle and the swollen length pulsing between his legs, and finally relented in her teasing touches before he decided to take matters into his own hands and bend her over his lap.

       Biting her lip, she reached for the erection begging for her attention, feeling him tense as she swirled precum around the engorged head with her thumb. Her hand looked so small wrapped around him, the velvety skin hot and throbbing against her palm as she stroked him a couple of times, and she grew bolder as his abdominals tensed. His moans escalated as she squeezed him tighter and his hands fisted in her hair with a muffled groan of “God!” when she took him into her mouth, sucking softly. 

       Her other hand cupped his balls, fondling them, and she nearly gagged as his hips bucked, forcing her to take more of him into her mouth. His gaze pierced hers as MC peered up at him through her lashes, her tongue lapping at the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, and she moaned at his taste, feeling him gasp as he watched himself disappear between her lips.

       “Harder!” Napoleon grunted, his head tilting back against the pillows beautifully as she did as he asked. “Yes - ngh! - just like that! Don’t stop...my good girl...sucking me off so perfectly...making me feel so good…” His words encouraged her to move faster, hollowing her cheeks, as his hands tightened in her hair, signaling his impending climax. “If you keep - shit! - doing that, I’m going to - anhg!” He didn’t get to finish his sentence, his release triggered with a particularly hard squeeze of her hand, and she found herself yanked off of his cock to have her breasts warmed with his cum.

       The sight of him lost in the throes of pleasure, flushed and moaning as his body spasmed in release, made MC whimper, her thighs clenching around a powerful wave of arousal. So busy admiring him, she didn’t realize Napoleon was staring at her until he lunged forward to grab her, switching their positions.

       The sheets were warm against her back as she squeaked, her lover parting from her for the time it took to grab the almost forgotten bowl of ice cream from his desk. It had mostly melted by now, forming a thick, liquid puddle in the bowl, but he seemed to think it was perfect, picking it up and it swirling it around before turning his attention back to her. She had an idea of what was about to happen next, but she still gasped when the cold treat hit her skin, drizzled along her breasts and stomach and dripping over her curves.

       Dipping his finger into what was left in the bowl, he smeared it over her lips. In a flare of playfulness, she caught the digit between her lips, running her tongue across the underside of his finger in an imitation of how she’d moved it along his cock moments before. The lust in his eyes burned in response, ready to consume her, and a string of saliva connected her lips and the tip of his finger when he finally pulled it away.

       “Mind if I have a taste too?” he husked, and MC tilted her head to the side, baring her neck in submission even as a mischievous smile beckoned him to claim his treat for getting her all hot and bothered.

       “I’m all yours~”

       Climbing over her, his tongue started at her navel, licking up the ice cream in long, thorough strokes before the hot appendage caressed the underside of her breast. She mewled and sighed as he teased the skin, leaving not a single inch unloved by his hot mouth, and her arms wrapped around his neck, urging him towards her nipple. Her soft moans filled the heated air, unabashed, as he took the hardened peak into his mouth, licking and sucking the vanilla sweetened nub like candy. Napoleon paid the same attention to the other breast until he had licked up all of the sugary treat, leaving her skin faintly sweet.

       Hands gently parted her legs wider, and for a moment she thought he was going to finish what he’d started against the door earlier, but instead he moved lower, resting her legs over his shoulders. A scream of his name tore from her trembling form when his mouth met her core, his moans vibrating against her clit as he drank deep of the wetness spilling from her, and her hands clutched at the sheets, searching for some sort of stability from the sudden stimulation.

       His tongue was relentless, diving inside of her in ways that made her back arch and stars dot her vision. MC nearly came when his fingers dipped inside of her without warning, and it wasn’t long before she couldn’t decipher between his tongue, teeth, and fingers, on her clit, grabbing her ass, reaching so deep inside of her until it all became too much. A wave of hot pleasure washed over her, leaving her screaming for mercy as he continued to thrust two fingers into her fluttering core.

       Leaving a last, loving kiss to her hip, Napoleon climbed back over her as she panted, piecing herself back together from her orgasm. His hand cupped her cheek, and she hummed at the pleasant warmth, leaning into his touch as he left a soft kiss to her lips.

       “I love you,” he murmured against her, and she uttered the words back, spoken like a blessing as they passed kiss-swollen lips.

       Covered in cum and leftover ice cream, she was a sight for him and him alone, an image of want and desire that would keep him up at night with the need to satisfy his never-ending hunger for her. She tasted sweeter than any dessert as his tongue delved into her mouth, swallowing her soft whimper as he parted her legs and made their bodies one.