#flexing on my stupid baby self. get fucking owned you idiot.

[clutchpowers]

10 YEARS AGO TODAY was when the brain worms attacked and I have not been the same since! Shame! anyway here's a re-draw of my first fanart 🤭🤭

[mandoinevarro]

NO REFUNDS

Words: 5.1k :))

Rating: E, baby

Warnings: Smut (surprise surprise), bad words :0, masturbation, a biiiit of praise kink, face fucking, cumplay? let me know on the comments, etc. etc. 

a/n: Happy Star Wars day!! The first few lines of this are an attempt at dumb comedy, but humor me a little and you’ll get a reward (smut) along the yellow-brick road

Finally, the lanky kid behind the counter stops air drumming with two chicken bones gnawed dry and trails his dopey eyes from the gloved fist on the table, up a bracer, and along a flexed arm, until they settle on the Mandalorian helmet staring him down and waiting for an answer. The employee removes the music bandeau from around his ears and settles it down, its noise so loud Mando can hear it from where it lays. The kid scratches the whiskers of facial hair growing patchy on his cheeks and thoughtfully nibbles on one of the bones, trying to figure out what one does when a client shows up.

“Uh, what?”

“I need to speak to the owner,” the Mandalorian repeats slowly.

“Oh, uh.” Mouth gaping like a fish too stupid to know it should fear hooks, the kid calmly turns his attention to the four walls of the hardware store, searching for guidance in the fluorescent signs hanging around the room and dictating the store’s rules like they’re ancient scriptures:

NO CHILDREN

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

NO IMPS

NO REPUBLIC OFFICIALS

NO REFUNDS

NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

“You, uh,” the kid continues, lingering on that last stanza and flicking open a dusty agenda that probably hasn’t been touched since the war ended, “you got an appointment, uh, sir?” He drags a greasy finger down the planner, squinting at nothing and pretending to read the page that Mando can clearly see is empty.

The bounty hunter sighs, holding on to the last reserves of patience that hang precariously on the cliff of his self-restraint, threatening to let go and leave him to his own anger. “No. But she’ll see me.” You better. You better fucking see him. “I was sold equipment here a few days ago, some of it faulty. I need to speak to her.”

The navigator. The fucking navigator. Of all the bunch of overpriced, black market scraps you’d somehow convinced the Mandalorian to buy from you last time, it just had to be the navigator. He still has his old blasters. Pumps are cheap. Even the deflector shields he could’ve done without for a couple of months. But the fucking navigator. The lack of droids on the Crest means that Mando relies solely on the navigator to set coordinates. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to find his way out of a system, let alone make hyperjumps. Even worse, the model is so old, its glitching isn’t recognized by the control panel, so he had to hover around the atmosphere of this damned planet for three days before figuring out what it was, throwing off his schedule and losing track of two bounties in the process. All because you sold him a damaged version of the one part he can’t do without.

But your gaping-mouthed kid worker seems too unused to visitors to really care about Mando’s request, too entertained nibbling on a bare bone and eyeing the costumer in front of him as a knowing smirk cracks his lips and he says, “I dig it.”

“You…you ‘dig it’? I don’t…”

“The whole, y’know.” He draws circles in the air with the bone, signaling the beskar armor while he wipes the sauce around his mouth with a sleeve. “The, uh, Mondolarian vibe you’ve got going on. Very retro, dude. I dig it.”  

Mondo…? Bewilderment overshadows irritation for a second, and Mando focuses all his energy into searching the kid’s vacant eyes for a sign of intelligent life. “I…I am a Mandalorian.”

Fucking stars above, it’s never easy with you. If not your endless teasing, it’s the exorbitant prices, your unwillingness to compromise, or your scurrying around so he’s forced to play cat and mouse with you. Your latest impossible challenge for him to tackle is, apparently, getting a straight answer from the obtuse employee you must have handpicked from a catalogue of idiots to torture Mando. Maker, he’s surprised your store hasn’t gone bankrupt yet. He can’t imagine anyone else in the galaxy putting up with your whims. And he only does it because…well, because…

After dedicating a couple of seconds to crafting the perfect response for what appears to be his very first client, the kid muses, “Well, shit, what do I know.” He flashes a toothy smile as he rereads the dogmas on the walls. “Says nothing about Mondolarians here, but, uh—”  

“—Look,” Mando bargains with your gatekeeper, trying to level the exasperation escaping the vocoder, “I only have one faulty part. Let me talk to the owner, and—”

“—Shit. I bet it was the microvalves.” Your staff of one hangs his tuff of hair in shame, swaying it limply from side to side, before staring straight at the visor apologetically. “My bad, dude, I’ve been trying to get them right, but I always fuck them up. It’s hard, y’know? Red with red, white with white. Why not red with white? Or—”

“—No. What? No. Listen to me. You sold me a busted—”

“—I sold you?” the kid scoffs, his eyes suddenly snapping wide and offended, ignoring Mando’s clenching fists, which usually make normal people cower. “Excuse me, mister Mondolarian sir, but I don’t, uh, don’t recall selling you shit, in fact—”

“—Not—not you personally, the store, look, just—”

“—in fact, I’ve never even met a Mondolarian before and you’ve, uh, no right—no right— to judge my microvalves that I worked hard on—”

“Let him in.” Your voice carries its usual amusement as it cuts between the Mandalorian and the kid, breaking off the bickering from both ends and drawing their attention to the melody’s source. You lean on the doorframe leading to your workshop, holding a pair of pliers in one hand and a wrench in the other. Grease is smeared on your face, where teeth bite down on a playful smirk and the twinkle in your eyes speaks of terrible intentions—like always. You tilt your head back to the room behind you. “C’mon, Mando. Let my receptionist work.”

With a sigh, the hunter moves towards the separate room, not before glancing back at the receptionist, who throws him one last disapproving look and wraps the bandeau that never stopped blasting music around his ears.

“Why do you keep him here?” the Mandalorian grunts as you push yourself off the doorframe to move inside your studio.

You shrug. “It’s him or droids.”  

Mando trails after you inside the cramped workshop, filled to the brim with piles and piles of sensors and motors and all the other scraps from dubious origins you collect, fix, and resell. He closes the door behind him and pushes a large tube hanging from the roof to the side to walk closer to you.

Facing him, you plummet on your wheeled chair with a sigh, your arms dangling off the armrests, still holding the wrench and the pliers, like you’re the monarch of your little kingdom of junk granting him an audience.

There, Mando finally gets a good look at you, and—much to his annoyance—you’re as lovely as always. Glistening and greasy, you’re still beautiful with oil stains on your skin and fat droplets of sweat trailing your temple. You beam at him from your squeaky throne with that faint grin that attracts nothing but trouble. Maker, no wonder you always manage to talk circles around him. But not this time. This time he won’t fall for your little games. He won’t, he won’t, he won’t. Tonight he’s walking out of here with all of his money, no matter how much you bat your pretty eyelashes at him.

The Mandalorian squares his stance and straightens his back in a futile attempt to intimidate you, strutting ahead firmly and pointing an accusing finger at your face.

“You sold me a—”

“—a busted navigator.”  You roll your eyes and push yourself to your legs abruptly before the hunter can get any closer. He stops dead on his tracks. You wave the wrench and the pliers in the air like the conductor of an orchestra. “I sold you a busted navigator.” The vowels are dragged out with an exaggerated tune to make fun of him. “Yeah, I heard you the first four thousand times, Mando.”

Without looking, you drop the pliers to the side. They land dead center on an open storage box. Perfectly. Almost rehearsed. Something clicks. The Mandalorian suddenly finds the missing piece of a puzzle he didn’t know needed solving, and he feels his shoulders deflate and release some of the anger that drove him to your store in the first place.

You peacock closer to him, one foot in front of the other and swaying your hips as you look down to the wrench in your hand. “But, you should know by now,” you murmur once you find yourself only inches away from the beskar, your voice morphing its earlier mock exasperation into the tone you only use whenever you two aren’t talking business. You look up at him, failing miserably at masking the mischief in your eyes. “I don’t do refunds.” You lift the wrench and grin as it taps the beskar breastplate lightly with a tink.

And before you can blink, Mando’s hand flies to your wrist to clutch it roughly, squeezing without hurting you, but with enough strength to force your fist open. Just like he knows you like it. The wrench falls to the floor with a bang that makes you jump. It’s Mando’s turn to smile when he pulls you by the wrist to press you closer against him. The cocky glint in your eyes dulls into confusion.

“I never said it was the navigator,” he informs you lowly.

You tense under his grasp and shift your jaw. “You knew I’d come back,” he continues, encouraged by your grimace. Staring at your feet, you half-heartedly try to wriggle away from his grasp, but he grabs your other wrist instead and holds you flush against the cold beskar. “Okay. I’m back. Now give me my money.”

But his satisfaction is short-lived, because if there’s anyone in the universe who knows no shame, that’s you. So you simply bite your lower lip and move your head from side to side to shake hair and embarrassment off your face. When you look up at the visor again it’s with that brazen insolence that secretly gets the Mandalorian going like nothing else in the galaxy.

“A girl gets lonely in here,” you purr. Your wrists relax, and make no attempt to pull away. “Can you blame me for wanting you back a little earlier?” Your plush lips curl into the perverse smile of someone who’s holding all the cards, making heat rush involuntarily to his crotch. And it drives him fucking insane. He could have you tied, shackled, or bent over, and you would still sneer at him like you had him wrapped around your finger.

At his silence, you wedge a leg tightly between his thighs and massage it against the bulge between. Your gasp in fake surprise when his length hardens at the first hint of a brush, too unused to any sort of physical contact to remain neutral to your bold caresses. He bites down hard on his lip to suppress a moan. He won’t give you the satisfaction.

Mando’s learnt, though, that his restraint only feeds your audacity. Only makes you taunt him more. His lack of response spurs you on, and you crane your neck forward to lick a slow line along the beskar of the chest. You blink at him playfully as you go, stuffing your tongue back into your mouth once you reach the top edge of the breastplate.

You must find it funny. How his ribs expand and contract in anticipation. How he tends to roll and unroll his fists in an attempt to suppress the instinct to throw you on top of the table so crowded by clutter that he can barely see the surface beneath and fuck the smirks off your face. How he always gives in. How he stiffens both scandalized and impossibly aroused every time you introduce him to some newer, filthier act. You must think it’s so fucking funny.

And as much as the bounty hunter wants to shove you back against your crumbling wheeled chair, he knows you’ll only enjoy it more. So he simply lets go of your wrists and steps back.

“I’m only here for my money,” he lies.

The vicious grin grows wider. “Oh, so you’re making me work for it tonight.” You step back and lean against a table with your arms crossed over your chest, purposefully pushing your tits against the cleavage. Mando shifts in his place. Licking your lips until they glisten, you give him a once-over. You study him inch by inch, and an uncomfortable rope knots in his stomach when he realizes that this is how his bounties must feel when he watches them wordlessly.

Your eyes settle on his visor, and a decision seems to cross them as you walk over to sit on your creaking chair. “Or maybe you just want to hear me beg.” You part your legs wide and clutch the armrest with one hand while the other disappears under the waist of your pants. The contour of your hand shifts up and down slowly inside the crotch of your trousers, and your lips crook into a full O as they release a deep, foul moan. “Is that it?” Your eyes are glossy and malignant, trained on his visor. “You want me to beg for your cock?”

His leather gloves ball into fists, trying to coax blood into his head and away from his…well, his other head.

Yet you hold him in place with that sinful stare and the lewd whimpers that you know get him off, and yes, fuck yes, he wants to hear you beg and sob for him all night as much as he wants to clog your throat with his shaft and make you swallow your teasing.

But he can’t let you win. You can’t scam five thousand credits out of him and expect him to throw himself into your arms no questions asked. He wants to put an end to your little tyrannical rule on his cock. And he wants his fucking money back.

So the powerful Mandalorian watches helplessly as your hand quickens under your clothing and you throw your head back in ecstasy. That fucking smirk doesn’t leave you, though. Even less so when your palm picks up some speed and you hear his breath hitch involuntarily at the visual, loud enough to override the vocoder.

“C-come on, Mando, don’t—” Your hand sinks deeper into your pants and you hum at the adjustment. “Don’t you wanna teach me what—what proper cos-costumer service looks like? Huh?”

His cock jumps in his pants when you say his name in a wanton gasp, and Mando can see you’re sweating and moving your hips faster against your palm. He’s so hard it hurts.

Your smile falters and you frown impatiently as the pent-up tension threatens to snap in your body.

“Don’t cum,” Mando blurts before he can stop himself.

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t give you what you want.”

Your movements halt on command, and the hunter almost envies the control you have over your own body to be able to backtrack on the very edge of your release. You hold your hands up in triumphant surrender as you watch the Mandalorian approach and stop just a breath away from your body. He stands tall before you, crowding you with his size and turning down the volume on the nagging voice that reminds him that he’s letting you win.

Eyes on the prize ahead of you, you lick your lips and snake a hand beneath your sit. You pull a lever and the chair plummets a few inches until your mouth is directly in front of the rigid tent growing in his pants. Expert fingers undo his belt and lower his fly, but, stars, nothing is fast enough when Mando already feels the veins of his cock growing thicker and thicker. Skipping all formalities, your hand sneaks inside, cups his balls, and pulls all of him outside. He groans when you grab his shaft and squeeze hard from base to tip, your bare palm catching awkwardly on his equally dry skin. Mando melts into the sensation all the same, but you seem displeased with your palm’s lack of fluidity.

“Fuck. Hold on.” A pair of fingers disappear into your mouth and down your throat as far as they’ll go. You choke on them dramatically and your eyes water slightly, but they shine when the two small intruders drag outside your mouth, pulling a thick string of elastic spit with them and dropping it on his shaft, pulsing with anticipation. You lean forward and look up through your lashes as you unroll your tongue slowly and more gooey saliva dangles from it. It’s too dense to spill onto its target, so you pluck the heavy ropes from your mouth and smear it manually on his cock, while a thread of it hangs on your chin.

“Fuck.” Your tiny clenched fist wakes up every nerve in his body as it drags up and down his shaft, obscene and perfectly lubricated. Mando’s hips buck into its grasp involuntarily, so suddenly that you flinch at the unexpected jolt. It’s a small comfort for him, to see that he can also surprise you. But then you’re giggling again, locking him in place by grabbing the buck of his belt with your free hand.

“Eager,” you remark. You lean forward and place a chaste kiss on the tip that digs into his spine. Maker, it was barely anything, but he’s so hard and your mouth is so close. “Aren’t Mandalorians,” you tease, “supposed to have self-restraint?”

Mando’s only answer is a low groan and a gloved hand that tangles on your hair and pushes you forward. You resist, though, instead wrapping a fist around his base and dragging your hot tongue up his underside, stopping just before the tip. A tortured whimper echoes around the helmet, and the Mandalorian is not sure if you could hear it because his muscles pull tighter, drawing his attention to his cock and your mouth and the fact that the latter is not wrapped around him for some reason. As if you could read his mind, you suddenly engulf him whole. Spit gathers on the edge of your lips as you suck on his length, swallowing around the tip and swirling your tongue around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re so—so fucking g-good at this.” You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft that make his knees buckle. He always forgets how good it feels with you. He forgets that you take him perfectly like all your holes were made for him to fuck. That you make his blood run hot with every swing of your tongue and every spasm of your cunt and every insolent remark that escapes your lovely mouth, now busy pleasuring him.

You settle on his head and suck on the bulb, hollowing your cheeks to let him feel the delicious inside of your mouth. Mando grabs handfuls of your hair with both hands, still trying to extinguish little whimpers before they leave his throat. And you can tell. He knows you can tell because determination clouds your eyes as you yank him closer by the belt. You drag your tongue in a circle around the ridge of the head, before dipping into the slit on the tip and finally earning a punched out groan and some beads of precum as a reward. Somehow, you moan and chuckle at the same time, opening your mouth as strings of spit fall to the floor.

“You’re hard, Mando,” you coo, pumping his length while you rub it on the side of your face, “throbbing and so, so hard. You should’ve come to me sooner, baby. You’re desperate.” You suck on the head again, and the Mandalorian’s grip on your hair turns to steel, pulling you into him and no longer asking. Moaning, you let him, taking him as far as you can and wrapping a fist where you can’t reach. Your other hand releases his belt and snakes down to your lap, fumbling with the waistband of your pants.

Somewhere in the swamp of sensations drowning his thoughts, an idea flashes in Mando’s head, and he holds on to it before you can suck it out of his tip. One glove lets go of your hair and quickly grans the hand lowering into your heat to resume touching yourself. His cock still in your mouth, you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and a silent question.

“You can’t c-cum,” he explains, forcing words out of a throat that right now only wants to moan, “un-until you give me my—my refund.”

You groan and roll your eyes, taking your mouth off him with a pop. “Fuck no,” you breathe as you pump him faster and harder, almost making Mando lose his resolve. Almost. His hold on your wrist tightens. “It’s store policy.”

“Y-yeah?” You continue sliding your fist along his shaft, as you lean forward and lower your face to start lightly licking his balls. The room spins around Mando, and his grip on your hair pushes you into him until you suck on one ball gently. “Is—is it store p-policy to—ngh—to f-fuck your clients?”

You chuckle against his taint. Your head straightens to set your attention back on his tip, where he’s leaking an almost embarrassing amount of precum. A thumb brushes over his slit, gathering the pearls and bringing them into your mouth to taste him. The way you rub your core slightly against the chair is sneaky enough, but the Mandalorian catches the movements and tugs your hand and hair tighter as a warning. Your shoulders slump.  “I’ll give you half,” you offer.

Mando guides your hand lower and curls it around his swollen cock, silently begging for your attention. His hand wraps over yours as he squeezes your fist and drags it along his shaft at a pace of his liking that sets his insides ablaze. “Eighty.” The helmet falls back as he revels in the wet sounds of your hand sliding back and forth his cock and giving him a nice enough memory for when he inevitably goes back to the Crest and is forced to take care of his needs himself.

You let him guide you, cupping his balls with your other hand and swirling your tongue around his darkening tip. Mando’s chest trembles with a long moan at the toe-curling feeling of your warm spit and your clenched fist working so hard for him, until you drop him from your mouth and answer, “Seventy.”

“N-no, I—”

“—Seventy,” you repeat and twist your hand away from his grasp, leaving his seeping cock throbbing and abandoned, “or you don’t cum.”

Fuck, he was close. He was so fucking close, before you turned the tables. Like fucking always. A part of him cradles his already bruised pride, shaming him for—yet again—not being able to hold it together around you. But his cock tugs harder. More insistently. It pulls every fiber in his body and screams at him to give you whatever the fuck you want.

“Fine.” He nods his head once, before his better sense can convince him otherwise. “Seventy.”

A full, beautiful smile that almost makes Mando forget he’s getting scammed graces your plump lips. You waste no time shoving your hand inside your underwear again and moving your arm frantically as you give him a couple of throaty whines. You open your mouth as wide as it’ll go and blink up at him, inviting him to take you however he so pleases. He tangles his fingers on your hair and shoves you against him as you wrap your lips around his cock and muffle your mewls on it.

The Mandalorian starts fucking your face, getting his money’s worth as he moves you back and forth. Your eyes water and you gag with every shove, but you work earnestly for him, hollowing your cheeks and moving your tongue and pulling just about every trick on your toolbox to make Mando’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

And stars, even through your pants and his helmet, he can still smell your arousal. He hears the wet squelching of your fingers working your pussy fast and if he could only get a look. One look is all he needs to cum, he’s sure, one fucking look at your clenching cunt and he’s done.

“F-fuck, l-let me see,” he pants, “let—let me s-see you—see your p-pussy cum, just—fuck—just a mo-moment, please, j-just…”

Tears from all the gagging fall out of your pretty eyes as you open your mouth and stand up, taking your trembling hand outside to fumble with your trousers. Your thumbs are hooked under their waistband and push down slightly before you suddenly stop and stare at the Mandalorian gulping all the oxygen he can get and waiting for you. “Sixty,” you say carefully.

Too intoxicated with you and too focused on the blood beating hard on his cock, Mando couldn’t care less. He doesn’t give a shit about percentages or money or parts or whatever half-forgotten excuse he had to come here tonight. All that matters and all that’s real is whatever he needs to climax, and if it means letting you win, so be it. “S-sixty. Yes. Whatever. Just—just take your fucking pants off.”

One swift movement and your pants and underwear pool around your ankles. Yanking hard on the hem, you manage to pull the right leg off your boot. You don’t bother with the other one, letting it hang on your left leg as you climb back on the chair, spreading your legs and hooking one thigh over the armrest to offer him the best view possible.

Mando’s cock threatens to spill at the sight. You’re fucking soaked. Your folds are blushed and slick and swollen with all the blood accumulated on your cunt. Three fingers rub your aching clit and everything around it with messy strokes, as you stare at the bounty hunter with raw lust and moan for him loud and clear, and this. This is worth the fucking navigator.

As soon as his shaft ghost over your face you lean into it and reach for him with your mouth. Mando takes your head between his hands and resumes his previous brutal pace, his eyesight now directed at the way your cunt spasms and seeps more juices with every circle you press against your lips. And, fuck, you’re taking him like you’re hungry for his cock. Pushing harder and further and faster despite the gagging, you’re making Mando see blotches cloud his vision and feel how his muscles turn into hot, thick magma. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he can’t hold it in anymore. His balls start pulling up as a warning and you’re sucking harder and mewling around him.

“I—I…I’m gonna—I—”

Mando can’t find enough words to put together for the life of him, but you nod and manage a chocked “Mhmm” and bob your head to the pace of your quickening fingers and stars oh fuck—

The wave of his climax hits him hard on his back and makes him curl around you. He braces himself against the top of your chair and the change in position makes his cock slip outside of your mouth, but his vision goes completely black and all he can feel is the rush of pleasure crushing his bones into dust. Maybe your name is falling from his lips, but he can’t be sure. The never-ending spurts of cum falling somewhere hoard most of his attention, and he focuses on that thick and heavy release, so rare for him that he puts his mind into savoring every second.

It’s not until the echoes around his ears dissipate that the Mandalorian hears you’re still whimpering. Hunched over you, he opens his eyes just in time to see you gather some of the seed that he spilled on your neck and bring it down to smear it over your bundle of nerves, rubbing it one, two, three, four times, before you’re sobbing long and loud. Your hole tightens around nothing, your forehead resting on his cuisse, and Mando thinks he could get hard again just from the image.

You both stay like that for a while, curled into each other and panting in turns, until Mando gathers all the energy left in his system to pull himself upright and shove his softening shaft back into his pants. It’s only then that he sees just how much of a mess he made: Cum landed everywhere. It hangs thick all over your face, on your neck, on your hair, on your clothes. He blushes darkly and he’s about to open his mouth to apologize, but you sense it. Somehow. You wink and brush off his shame with a smile and a wave of your hand, standing up to get dressed. But Mando’s quicker. He kneels in front of you and gently raises your underwear until it hugs your hips, wishing for a fleeting second he could press a kiss on the supple flesh there. You grab his pauldron for balance to sneak your foot into the pantleg that Mando holds open for you.

For once, it’s he who breaks the silence. “I…I do want my sixty percent, you know.”

“Of course.” You smile sweetly at him, reaching back to your work table to grab a clean rag, rubbing it against your face and neck. “I’ll even throw in some free microvalves for good measure.”

—

Taglist of two so you can keep each other company :) : @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

ii. Fun Facts About The Cast | Actor Au | Obey Me

Request: Its not, I love this AU tho

Word Count: 2303 words

Page Count: 6.5 pages

A.N. Hope you guys all like this! Fun facts about the cast lmao

[ Actor AU Masterlist ]

Fun Facts

Benjamin ( Lucifer )

- Is the dad of the cast.

- In any scenes with Dmitri ( Luke ), he makes sure to know if he is alright, and often will stop scenes to ask.

- He also is an overall joker, so he has trouble filming most of his scenes, will often start laughing in the middle of filming and can break character the easiest.

- Best with kids overall, probably due to having his own, keeps their lives private tho.

- His hair was white for a past show, but the directors liked the look, so that's why he has white tips.

- One of the few male characters who cannot do those diets to accentuate his abs- so that's why his character is always covered up.

- He's in shape! But, he likes the fat that protects his muscle, he says he needs to stay soft to hug his kids.

- Known diabetic, so there's a table full of foods so his sugars are stable, the cast has glucagon shots all over the sets to be safe.

- Is in his early thirties, but people say he can pull off early twenties- he just snorts at this.

Avery ( Mammon ) 

- Takes the job seriously, and his scenes are easiest to film.

- Dark humor and often is the "Lucifer" of the cast.

- Seeing him switch from Avery to Mammon leaves the rest of the cast and crew fucking s h o o k.

- Will always be seen looking his finest.

- No, no one has seen him in public in sweatpants or anything like that. His image is very serious.

- Is a sweetheart when with the rest of the cast tho.

- His eyes are actually that blue.

- No one is sure if his hair is actually white or not, the way he speaks about it is vague, and fans are always theorizing.

- Watching over Benji ( Lucifer ), and is usually the one to tell him to check his sugars, since the other is quite forgetful.

- Is an immigrant from Turkey, so he has an accent, makes people thirst for him more.

- Helps aspiring actors and directors get into the field, and goes on hard work and talent, not who tries to pay him off.

Jackson ( Leviathan )

- Is the resident fuckboi.

- Always with males and females hanging off him, at this point the pop gave up, no- they aren't his partner.

- Flexes a shit ton.

- Wearing chains, a Rolex, and anything designer.

- Donates half of his salary to ocean reserves and protection funds, he has the money for it, and the show pays him well.

- Always at the beach, or near lake houses and shit, the one ( 1 ) thing he likes about his character.

- Hates the fringe he wears with a passion.

- His hair is actually a light shade of brown, his eyes are a darker shade, but still pretty light.

- First generation, his parents are Korean, so you can pick up hints of their accent in his speech patterns. Gets heavy when he's sleepy. 

Ross ( Satan )

- Is a stoner.

- Goes on Instagram lives with either MC and gets high, talking about the dumbest shit or he's alone in his room and his cats join in.

- "So, if you think about- oH MY GOD PRINCESS. YES, COME TO DADDY."

- Has a kitten curled up on him, purrs loud as hell because mf is so warm, and the lives turn into purring ASMR sessions.

- Into self care, has a line of vitamins, face masks, and everything you can think of.

- Calls his fans his SaStans.

- Dmitri ( Luke ) is his younger brother.

- Will never let him out of his sight, and they love to be as mean as they can to each other, they love each other but love to bully one another.

- Is from the Bronx, so his accent is what Avery ( Mammon ) mimics for his character, often just records Avery's lines and sends them to him so he can practice.

- Owns an animal shelter he funds.

- "Carol Baskin? Who's that?"

- The REAL tiger king.

- Gets all his cats dyed to look like tigers.

Micheal ( Asmodeus )

- Chill as fuck.

- Has like 5+ kids, so the role fits him perfectly, and now it's an on running joke among fans that they are all his illegitimate children.

- You know why Asmodeus on the show wears so much makeup? 

- His eldest daughter is one of the makeup artists, and she loves to try new looks on him, and the producers think it would fit the character well.

- People speculate his age, looks young but is in his late 30's.

- His first child was born when he was 16, so he likes to support safe heavens and things like that for struggling youths- from being kicked out to needing assistance with mental health.

- Tired af.

- Always in sweatpants, him and Ross ( Satan ) are the trademark bums of the cast.

- Thinks it would be hilarious that when Micheal is revealed, in the show, that he plays the character.

- Is a writer as well, TSL is a real series and he writes it, so they let him use it in the show.

- Vlogs in his car, in a Wendy's parking lot, eating a shit ton of food and talking about the most random shit.

- Half asleep in all interviews, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, it's gotten to the point where everyone memes it too.

James ( Beelzebub )

- Himbo.

- One of the few cast members closest to their character.

- Absolute sweetheart.

- He's 20 years old.

- But how is he so fucking big???

- Comes from a big ass family, the middle child, he's baby 4 out of 9.

- All his siblings are redheads too.

- Very playful tho, with the cast always going along with his antics, making for the best bloopers.

- The contacts he wears make him blind af, which doesn't help since he's so tall, and will bump his head on the doorways and such.

- Can speak Scottish-Gaelic, and even has an accent to top it off.

- He is an absolute unit, and one of the characters who does the stupid diet to show off his form.

- Literally on the verge of passing out sometimes, so he needs to rest with Benjamin ( Lucifer ).

- All pictures, shirtless scenes, and such are filmed first so he can rest after and go back to a normal diet.

- Quiet guy, but loves talking about sports and his siblings tho.

- Is always carrying MC and Dmitri ( Luke ) around, now there are many off-guard photos posted to the casts shared twitter+instagram accounts

- Still pretty new to acting, but is amazing at emotional scenes, to the point fans actually think he's having a breakdown.

- Nah, he's just thinking about being alone, without his family- and it gets him bawling for said scenes.

Conner ( Belphegor )

- Crackhead 

- Will not stay still, either for filming or just when everyone is chilling.

- Scenes where he's asleep? He's usually turned away from the camera, cause the idiot is smiling and giggling.

- Has tripped over his tail multiple times.

- Comes from a farm-life, literal cowboy, his southern accent just hits hard.

- He hides it very well, but it comes out at times or with certain words.

- Sees Benjamin ( Lucifer ) as a mentor, he's in his early twenties and new to the scene, but they are best friends.

- Benjamin ( Lucifer ) has now acquired a new child.

- A living meme.

- You know how Tom Holland can't keep a secret?

- Yeah, he's worse.

- Rest of the cast have all had to physically stop him from talking at one point.

- The cow pillow? It's actually his, when he got the role his father has sewn it himself, so he will bring it with him.

- It's basically free promo for the show and comforts him in the city space.

- Gets overwhelmed in large crowds, so he usually makes sure to have another cast member close by, or he will literally leave to a less crowded place to take a breath.

- Apologized to MC after the scene in which he kills them.

- His mama raised him right, so he takes MC to his house for a movie, in which they cuddle and relax for the night.

- Felt really bad for like... a whole week.

- "Country boy I love you~"

Thomas ( Barbatos )

- Brat.

- This is one cocky man, he's smooth as hell, and one whisper can make you weak in the knees.

- Grew out the one side of his hair, but he slicks his hair back or will pin it back, dyes it himself when it's time to film.

- Loves to piss Alex ( Simeon ) off.

- Has a true crime podcast with Roman ( Diavolo ), Alex ( Simeon ), and Benjamin ( Lucifer ), because they're all old friends.

- Donates to the cold case foundation because he knows what it's like to lose someone and not know what happened to them.

- He has a twin who is his stunt double, they love to fuck with the rest of the cast, both of them are little shits.

- Is the motherfucker who makes a channel and reads the crackhead fanfics

- Loves every word of it tho.

- Responds to every fans dms. Every. One. As a whole account for this shit.

- Walks with a bit of a limp, so he wears a brace to help even himself, but during wide-shot scenes you can catch it sometimes.

- Took actual classes to be a butler for the role.

Roman ( Diavolo )

- Himbo 2.0

- Catch this man tweeting what he's trying to search up at 2 in the morning.

- Leaves them because it's hilarious, makes videos where he reads them out sometimes, it's all in good fun.

- He has a set of triplets at home, so that dad energy radiates into the show too.

- You know how Diavolo seems sus at points of the game? Yeah, he's still like that IRL.

- The rest of the cast was put off at first, but that's how he is, and everyone eased up pretty quickly.

- Makes jokes that he has family in the Italian mob, but needed to stop once his father called him, saying that there were too many eyes on the family now.

- Man was s h o o k.

- Has sensitive skin, so all his makeup and body paints need to be specially made, made with all natural products.

- The bags under his eyes are baby bags.

- Will bring his kids on set, to which everyone will gush over, and watch them when they aren't filming.

- Very private with his kids ( to the public ), doesn't post about them much, and only the cast really sees them.

- Wine dad.

- Catch him bringing the whole cast out for "family trips"

- People nicknamed him Caesar

- So many JoJo references now

- "SHHHHIIIIIZZZAAAAAAAA"

- "Please, no."

Dmitri ( Luke )

- Is actually 12.

- Quotes vines, tiktoks, and other memes.

- Is one of the few people that Alex ( Simeon ) is openly nice too.

- Also has an accent, but since he's young and is learning, can now mimic every other cast member's accent.

- Wear earplugs for certain scenes, because of how raunchy and dark the scenes can get, so Simeon and Barbatos are always conveniently in the way, hiding the plugs.

- Is Ross' ( Satan ) younger brother, and if he isn't hanging off of him he's with James ( Beelzebub ), Benjamin ( Lucifer ), or MC.

- They know there are some sick fucks in Hollywood so he has an adult with him at all times.

- Posts pictures of him cuddling up to his brother and the kittens, new foods he is trying, and some pictures with family.

- He often is considered the new Gordon Ramsay.

- Had a collaboration with him.

- It was amazing.

- Best boy, catch him taking a nap in his ( and Ross' ) trailer, surrounded by tiger kittens.

- The TIGER PRINCE.

Alex ( Simeon )

- Avatar of wrath who?

- The embodiment of "No talk me, I angy"

- Jkjk, though he does have a temper, he only loses it with Benjamin ( Lucifer ), Roman ( Diavolo ), and Thomas ( Barbatos ).

- A sweetheart with all children though, like you know Simeon on the show? 

- Yeah, he's only like that with kids.

- And respectable adults.

- Mama raised him well 2.0

- Grew up in NY

- Born in Gucci and Balenciaga.

- Was a child model and slowly expanded to acting.

- Dark humor galore.

- If Simeon met Alex, he'd probably have a stroke, cause THOSE WORDS are coming out of HIS mouth.

- Says the weirdest shit too.

- "Put your hand on my ass and call me a virgin."

- Bro are you okay???

- He is fluent in five languages and has a high IQ.

- Speaks: English, French, Italian, Arabic, and Mandarin

- Has a support system for children who struggle to learn conventionally, with trained tutors who are affordable, he knows what it's like to need certain needs met to learn, and he wants every kid to get that chance.

- Rough around the edges but has a heart of gold.

Derek ( Solomon )

- Loves to smoke with Ross ( Satan )

- He is more aloof than chill.

- One of the more awkward members, doesn't know how to socialize well, and is very shy.

- Watch out for Dmitri ( Luke ) on the down low.

- Didn't have the best life growing up, so he is a lot more street smart than book smart.

- Doesn't have a big social media influence.

- Very nice to fans, gives full hugs to them, and everyone feels so appreciated.

- Has a husky named Blue.

- Also has an owl, who he took in when he found it on his porch with a broken wing, and nursed it to health.

- He set it free, but she comes back often, and has a nest in the tree closest to his house.

- Named her Lovely.

- Animal person, so he helps Ross out with his animal shelters.

- Uses Blue as a living pillow, and only sleeps in his boxers when Blue is on his bed, because goddamn does that dog radiate heat.

- Him and MC live together, having grown up together, and made their livings together. 

[louiserandom]

Of Nosebleeds and Allergies

Rating: T

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara

Summary: The sight of Madara waltzing around in the summer heat half-naked, muscles flexing beautifully, causes Tobirama to have an unexpected nosebleed. To hide the true cause from his overbearing Anija, he blames it on aggressive pollen allergies. 

It seems fine, until it isn't, because of course Hashirama would then assume that his Mokuton is a devastating allergen and starts sobbing because he now has to stay away from his beloved baby brother.

A/N: for @tuliharja who is DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS MADNESS, SOMEONE ARREST HER😤😤😤 but also thank you asdfghjk i had WAY too much fun writing this😂😂😂😂 this is peak flail. PEAK FLAIL i tell you

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 enjoy!

It's a cursed day, Tobirama decides.

For one, he'd always remained blessedly ignorant over why exactly Izuna swoons practically every time Tōka accidentally flexes her muscles—though whether or not it's ever truly accidental is up for debate—until today.

Today being the particularly sweltering mid-summer day when virtually every citizen of Konoha is frying alive, apparently, with only Tobirama, whose body temperature is naturally cooler due to his enhanced affinity for water, feeling perfectly content.

Madara, on the other hand, doesn't seem as comfortable, and that's Tobirama's only fully coherent thought before his mind blanks at the sight of Madara taking his shirt off, in their shared office no less, and stretching out his arms in a decidedly indecent manner.

Tobirama swallows heavily. Madara decides then to take a drink from his water bottle, so sloppily that stray droplets trickle from the corner of his mouth, along the column of his neck down his chest. Tobirama's brain, in turn, short-circuits.

Fuck. 

Tobirama wonders if it would really be that strange if he runs away through the window right this second. Or douses the office with a Water Dragon.

He clenches his fists. Sighs. Berates himself for his ridiculous thought process.

Maybe Tobirama is overreacting. All right, maybe he's definitely overreacting, because of course, he logically understands that were it not for his stupid, godsdamned uncontrollable crush on the Uchiha Clan Head, he wouldn't be phased by the current display. He takes care to keep his face neutral and his posture more or less relaxed, focusing his gaze on the papers before him and away from the thick, bulging muscles, the tantalizing expanse of exposed, slightly tanned skin. It's more than a little horrifying for Tobirama to catch himself imagining how he'd licking the thin sheen of sweat on Madara's collarbones, chest, abs and—

Well. This is going nowhere.

Tobirama closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, frantically thinking of dead kittens and bloody battlefields in order to ward off the scorching flares of arousal.

Annoyingly, it doesn't work. He opens his eyes only to see drops of red on his—well, what used to be his top-priority tax proposal, and it takes his malfunctioning brain a few seconds to realize that he's been hit by what used to be Hashirama's constant plague during his sexually hyperactive teenage years.

A nosebleed.

A fucking nosebleed.

He scrambles for a tissue, keeping his gaze fixed downward and hoping to the gods Madara hasn't noticed the debacle.

"What the fuck is wrong, Senju?" Just Tobirama's luck. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Tobirama says, shaking his head erratically, "I just—I'm fine. A random nosebleed. Nothing to worry about, just—keep working." He even does a little wave with his hand, which is reminiscent of the flailing that's supposed to be Madara's specialty.

By the Pure Lands, this is embarrassing.

Madara watches him with narrowed eyes and then, because the universe doesn't care for Tobirama's mental stability, stands and walks over to him, removing the tissue from his face and inspecting the damage. Pale green flashes in Tobirama's vision, and he shuts his eyes closed, half-petrified, half-savoring the warm, comforting tingle that is Madara's chakra sizzling through him as he presses his fingers to the bridge of Tobirama's nose to heal him. The sensation stokes Tobirama's increasingly uncomfortable erection, making him resent the delectable pleasure.

(This is probably the gods' revenge for all the times he'd broken the laws of nature with his experiments. It's maddening.)

"Just a couple burst vessels," Madara says with a nod, finally (albeit regrettably) removing his hand. "Probably because of the damnable heat, yeah?"

"Mmhm," is all Tobirama manages, throat dry and mind ever more foggy as he's treated to a close up of Madara's taut, dangerously enticing nipples.

"You should maybe work from home the rest of the day," Madara suggests, pressing his palm against Tobirama's forehead. "You don't appear to have a fever, but you are a little flushed." He smirks then. "I thought you were blushing. It's a—it's a nice look—whatever, shut up!" Madara jerks away from him suddenly, both hands flailing a little.

Now that's... an interesting comment. Something to think about later.

"When did you become a mother hen, Uchiha?" Tobirama teases while Madara stutters through a bunch of incoherent insults. At least this is the Madara he knows and—likes, a welcome contrast to his uncanny concern earlier.

"Tch. Like I care," Madara glowers, "get a heat stroke, whatever, I don't give a shit. I mean—I do, but only because your brother would cry and get snot all over me if you get sick."

As if on command, Hashirama struts right through the door, the wood disassembling and patching itself back again once he's inside.

"Good morning!" he sing-songs.

"Stop abusing the fucking door!" Madara and Tobirama shout in unison.

"Oh, come on," Hashirama whines. "The door doesn't mind—I'd know!"

"We do," Tobirama says.

"Yes, and I also mind your presence," Madara growls. "You have your own office, so get the paperwork you need and fuck off."

"Madara, don't be so—Tobi. Tobi! Is that blood?"

Tobirama rolls his eyes. Great. Just what he needs right now.

"It's just a nosebleed, Anija. You don't need to heal it, Anija, Madara already did. Please, for the love of the gods, keep quiet." It takes all of Tobirama's self-control to keep his voice level as he talks alongside his brother's panicked whining, and it takes a particularly hard shove for Hashirama to shut up and focus on him. "Anija. I. Am. Fine."

"Okay," Hashirama breathes, worry never leaving his eyes, "you're fine—for now. But what if you get another nosebleed? How much blood did you lose? Is it the weather? Are you sick? Did Madara hit you, do I need to beat him up?"

"Hey!"

Tobirama scoffs. "I find it insulting that you think I wouldn't beat him up myself," he says, "especially considering his pathetic defeat in our last sparring match."

"You cheated, you fucking dick—"

"But none of the above," Tobirama goes on, silently laughing at Madara's attempts to get past Hashirama and presumably strangle him. "It's just..." His eyes trail treacherously over Madara's straining biceps. "Aggressive pollen allergies," Tobirama blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

The right thing to say, too, because Hashirama heaves a massive sigh of relief.

"Oh. Gods, well, allergies are easy to treat at least," he says, "but they're still dangerous, Tobi, and they can hinder your breathing! You'll need to stay inside a lot, of course, and I'll prepare some medicine for you, and—"

"Stupid fucking Senju," Madara grumbles, a bit calmer now and simply glaring at both of them, arms crossed. "Make sure to stay away from your precious brother too, since your Mokuton is one big fucking allergic hazard," he sneers.

Well, fuck.

Hashirama's expression twists into one of terror, and Tobirama sorely laments the lack of much-needed alcohol in their vicinity.

"I'M AN ALLERGEN, OTOUTO," the God of Shinobi screams, his eyes welling up with tears. "No, no, no, that means I'll have to stay away from you and gods, all the trees I grew in the village—"

"Why," Tobirama says, fixing a confused Madara with a glare.

"—I'll have to draw away all my chakra and probably seal and oh no, think of the children! What if I've already caused deadly allergic reactions—"

"Why would you do this," Tobirama sighs as Madara grows more and more baffled by the spectacle. He obviously meant it as a (poorly contrived) joke, but has apparently forgotten that Hashirama is an idiot.

"—Tobi, you have to move out immediately!" Hashirama shouts at him, shaking is shoulders, then recoils with a yelp, and Tobirama senses him forcefully toning down his chakra. "And far away from me, until I find a suitable treatment—oh, Madara!" He turns to his friend. "Since Tōka and Izuna are on their honeymoon, Tobi should live with you for a while—I mean you've finally confessed and you can spend quality time together! Just, you know, don't sleep with each other until Tobi—"

"WHAT THE FUCK," Madara shrieks.

What the fuck, Tobirama's mind echoes.

"I DIDN'T TELL HIM, YOU UTTER ASSHOLE." Madara lifts Hashirama by the collar and pins him against the wall. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"But you told me yesterday—"

"I lied!"

"Well, you can tell him now," Hashirama whines, prying Madara's hands off himself, "while I quarantine and de-Mokuton everything, because Tobi could suffocate and die, Madara, this is serious."

"I won't." Tobirama raises his voice to be heard over Madara's cursing. He pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel a massive headache setting in. "Anija, you do not need to quarantine yourself. It's all right. I am not allergic to the Mokuton."

"How can you know?" Hashirama demands, managing to restrain Madara's hands behind his back. "You've never had allergies before, only this year when we've basically moved into a village half-built by my jutsu, Tobi! It all fits."

"It doesn't," Tobirama growls, "because I'm not allergic at all. I lied. Go away."

"Why do you two keep lying to me? And then why did you have a nosebleed?" Hashirama tilts his head to the side, confused.

Tobirama sighs. "Madara hit me. We need to talk it out."

"Wh-what the hell, Senju?"

"What?" Hashirama growls, just as Madara yelps as his hands are squeezed tighter.

"I hit him first," Tobirama lies through gritted teeth, "and he hit back. Stop fretting. Now if you leave, I promise we'll talk, make up and maybe even hug it out like you always force us to."

Hashirama blinks. "Hm." He slowly releases Madara and drops the scowl, though his eyes remain narrowed. "You'd better be telling the truth this time. If you're not, I will ground both of you and issue a decree for that if I have. And I expect both of you over for dinner today along with detailed explanations from both sides because this kind of behavior is unacceptable," he chastises them before stalking towards their desks, grabbing the paperwork labeled for him and heading out in the same atrocious way, through the malleable door.

Leaving Madara and Tobirama drowning in a very uncomfortable silence that stretches on mercilessly.

Madara clears his throat, speaking first,

"Fuck."

With that concise assessment, he stalks back to his desk, dons his shirt back on and hides his face behind the high collar, slumping onto the chair like a disgruntled porcupine.

"So," Tobirama starts.

"Your brother is a menace."

Madara's chakra rages throughout the whole office, now almost painful as it burns against Tobirama's senses. He sighs.

"So," Tobirama says firmly, "when Anija said you meant to confess..."

Madara sinks further into his chair, half-concealed by his desk at this point.

"He meant—you like me?" Tobirama asks, wincing as Madara's chakra flares further.

"I hate him," Madara seethes.

Tobirama rolls his eyes. Such childish behavior.

"Well if that is what you were trying to tell me," he says, "I was going to say that I might—"

"Not attempt to kill me?" Madara cuts in.

Tobirama resists the urge to throw something heavy at the infuriating man. "That I might possibly not completely hate you too."

This has Madara fumbling to raise his head above his shirt only to gape at Tobirama for a few tense moments.

"Well, why didn't you tell me earlier?" he demands and even has the gall to sound offended.

"Why didn't you?" Tobirama parries. So many things would have been easier if he had, Tobirama's far-too-frequent hard-ons included.

"Because," Madara glowers, "because—why should I be the one to take initiative?"

Huh. Another interesting observation.

Tobirama smirks. "Fine then. This is me taking initiative: I say we ditch Anija's friendship bullshit and go get dinner together." He flinches. "Ditch him for as long as we're able, that is."

Madara blinks. "Dinner?"

"At your place," Tobirama suggests, dipping his voice lower, "if you'd like more privacy?"

Considering his embarrassing reaction to Madara's earlier display, it's viscerally pleasing for Tobirama to see the man blush, dark eyes glazing over prettily.

"Oh." Madara's lips curl in a grin. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

"Perfect." Tobirama barely reining in his own giddy smile. He motions to the thankfully small piles of paperwork they've left to get through. "Let's take care of these quick then, before Anija has the chance to sabotage us."

Madara huffs out a laugh. "Please. He'll be stuck with those missives until midnight, and that's if he's lucky."

"Do you remember that time when Anija had work to do and then didn't do it?" Tobirama muses.

"Hm. You mean every single time?"

"Exactly."

It's a bit of a surreal pattern that follows, both of them falling back on their usual banter, only with the added weight of their revealed feelings hanging over them. It's a comforting weight, for Tobirama at least, and for once, it doesn't feel wrong to let his gaze linger on Madara's lips, focus on the way his tongue darts out to wet them, stoking Tobirama's fantasies about how they'd feel against his own. His staring must give him away, though, and it's a few minutes later that Madara falls into abrupt silence, his eyes suddenly widening as he proceeds to stare at Tobirama like he's grown another head.

"Wait a second. Did you happen to have that nosebleed because—"

"Because you're an idiot," Tobirama interrupts him, his insides growing cold with renewed embarrassment, "and that raises my blood pressure."

Madara's mouth shuts, curving in a devious smirk. The bastard. Of course he wouldn't be fooled.

Tobirama clears his throat. "Listen, the sooner we finish work, the sooner we can leave and go on that fucking date," he says with a pointed glare. "So concentrate."

"As you wish, Tobirama," Madara drawls, a teasing glint in his eyes, "wouldn't dare to disobey."

Somehow, even without outright taunts, Tobirama feels like he's been defeated. It doesn't matter, though; what he may lose in dignity, he’ll make up for by preserving his outward composure.

Besides, the next hours give him the added pleasure of seeing how the mere promise of a romantic outing ramps up Madara's usually sluggish productivity to an astonishing degree.

It's a good day after all, he decides, and about to get much better.

[kweebtrash]

Blind Leading the Blind

WonwooxReader

Summary: basically a cute/nerdy/awkward moment between two people who cant fucking see without their glasses and are nervous about hooking up for the first time

Words: 2.3k (drabble)

Features: really awkward hookups, nerdy!wonwoo, nerdy/shy reader, both wonwoo and reader being clumsy as all hell, heavy making out/grinding/caressing, fingering/stroking, some nipple sucking

Masterlist      Buy Me a Ko-Fi

Wonwoo fumbled with the door to his bedroom, struggling to grab onto the knob. It was rather difficult with his lips on mine and him pushing me against the wood but we had been so wrapped up in each other we almost didnt notice. My arms were around his neck, pulling him as tight as possible to my heated body. He was making me never want to come up from air but he did just that and made me chase after his lips. "H-hold on! S-sorry, just hold on a second. My hand is kinda sweaty and i cant-" He jerked the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door. "I couldnt get it open. But um...here we are." He chuckled awkwardly and held out his hand for me to view his simple university dormroom. It was a shared space that resembled a small apartment more than anything. His actual bedroom however still had a bunk bed which seemed annoyingly small for his tall frame. Not the most attractive place to have sex in but it would have to do.

I stepped into his room and adjusted my glasses shyly. I never expected us to get so far as to wanting to come back to his place. We had seen a movie at the local theater, had terrible university food, then walked around campus. He was a perfect gentleman. A perfectly gorgeous hot gentleman. Someone who was respectful and kind and turned me on just by being his dorky self. A sweet kiss goodnight lingered for far longer than intended and when the need grew too much to bare we decided to end the date on a more sensual note. He came into the room after me and we stood around for a moment, chuckling nervously and not knowing how to exactly pick back up where we left off.

He shrugged off his jacket and asked me if i wanted something to drink which i denied. An uneasy silence filled the room and i chewed my lip in ponderance. "Um so..." I began softly. "Do you want to...keep going, maybe?" I hoped he said yes. I had felt his strong and muscled arms beneath the thin shirt he wore during our first embrace and i was determined to have them trap me against his body once more.

"Oh! Yes. Yeah. Yes. Um...yes keep going. Thats cool. Youre cool. God sorry, i keep talking because i'm-" I cut him off with another kiss, reaching up to cup his face in my hands. His slightly full lips were soft and tender. It felt as if they were made to be on mine, a perfect fit like the final piece of a puzzle. His hands didnt seem to know where to rest at. They roamed from my shoulders to the center of my back then lower to my ass before he changed his mind and went back up to my shoulders.

"You can uh...touch my ass if you want. Like grab it...or w-whatever." I blushed.

"Oh? I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Youre not." I shook my head. "In fact youre making me want you more. Youre cute when youre flustered."

"youre cute in general." He responded quickly, his own face turning rose as well. I gave him a small peck as a thank you for the compliment and took his hand.

"do you think we might be more comfortable on the bed?" He nodded and let me lead, ducking his head to avoid the upper bunk as he joined me on the mattress. We sat on the edge, again wondering where our hands and lips should go. A few more tentative touches and he settled on my hips while his tongue nudged its way past my teeth. With a bit more confidence he added some control to the kiss, making sure that he could trap my tongue in a few sucks and lure soft whimpers out of me. Every time i made a small sound his grip on me grew tighter and he was slowly moving me down to meet the mattress.

He tried to shift on top of me smoothly but the frames of our glasses jutted together and made the lens smack against my eye. We drew back from one another, eyes squinting and trying to rub the slight pain away. "S-sorry about that. I meant to go down a little be easier."

"im sure you'll go down fine." I said, not realizing the double entendre right away as i blinked clarity back into my eye. "I mean um...just lay on top of me! Well i mean, you know what i mean!"

"yeah, yeah! Totally. Do you think we should take off our glasses? Maybe that would be better." Wonwoo offered.

"We wouldnt be able to see each other at all. Wed both be one big blur." I laughed knowing that our eyesights were utterly terrible.

"Feeling around might be more fun though." His deep voice had lowered into a whisper and he nipped at his bottom lip. I was starting to like the way he was thinking. We removed our glasses and set them on the desk that was just a few inches away from his bunk. The blurriness helped a bit. Though i loved his good looks, it did shave off some nervousness between us.

He set himself between my legs and watched my reaction as the tips of his fingers disappeared under the loose skirt of my dress. His thumb stroked the smooth skin of my inner thigh making my hips buck ever so slightly when he would get close to my panties. I panted softly against his lips as my fingers trembled through opening the buttons on his shirt. Once they were free i shoved the shirt away. He struggled to get his arms out the sleeves and hit his knuckles on the bunk above as he had been flailing out of them. He huffed once he was free, rubbing his knuckles momentarily, and tossed the shirt on the floor. As he returned to kiss along my jawline i wrapped my arms beneath his, holding onto his biceps tight. The way his muscles flexed under my fingers had my stomach clenching in earnest. I wanted him badly and though i had never slept with anyone on the first date i knew i wanted him to have the first experience, especially because i got the sense he wasnt a jerk who wouldnt call me back.

Being bolder i slid one hand into the minimal space between our hips and groped the center of his pants; not too harsh but just enough to get his attention right away. "Wonwoo..." I mewled. "Can we...?"

His whole face flushed crimson, traveling all the way to the tips of his ears. He stared at my hand then at my face then back at my hand again. I grew nervous that I had made him uncomfortable and went to move away from him but he gripped my wrist lightly and kept me right where I was. I smirked and worked my palm over him, watching the way his eyes fell closed and lips parted slightly. The baritone sound was perfect and I longed to make him repeat it as much as possible. He moved his hips into me even going so far as to pluck open the button of his jeans and pulling the zipper down. My heart did somersaults at the prospect of seeing him fully. I swallowed hard, starting to chicken out, and diverted my eyes. It was far from my first time but I was still a rather shy person and when he made to pull my panties down I snapped my legs shut. “Do you want to s-shut off the lights?”

“Huh? Why? I want to see you. You’re beautiful...” He replied softly.

I covered my face at the compliment. “I-I mean...i-it’s like you said, it’s more fun to feel, right? Besides not like we can see much now.”

“Well, if that’s what you want...” He agreed with a slight pout. He left the bed to shut off the light and I made quick work of removing my dress. I laid back on the bed once the room was in darkness, waiting for Wonwoo’s return. I heard shuffling and small grunts of frustration as well as the sound of fabric waving around.

“Wonwoo, what are you doing?”

“Taking off my-!” Another small grunt. “My pants! I got them off now. It’s ok.” He breathed a sigh of relief which was right before I heard a loud thud and Wonwoo cursing.

I sat up quickly and tried reaching out to him. “What happened?!”

“I hit my head on the stupid bed! God that hurt!”

“Oh god, Wonwoo, come here.” I cooed at him. “And please duck your head.” I felt the bed dip as he moved onto it, unharmed this time. I pulled him close and kissed his forehead, trying to soothe the damage as i giggled. "Poor baby."

He huffed. "Sorry im an idiot."

"A cute idiot." I compromised. "A very cute idiot." I kissed along his strong jawline and cupped his neck gently while leaning into him. I decided it was my turn to be on top and stunned him once i straddled his hips. I moved his hands to settle on my hips as i pressed our chests together and decorated his neck with small bites. The cover of the darkness increased the spark between us and we filled each others mouths with moans and whimpers.

Much to my surprise, his hold on me allowed him to guide me into rough grinds against him. He was beginning to stir beneath me, filling out his underwear more and more until i felt every inch of him between my thighs. His fingernails etched half moons into my hips as he begged for me to pull my panties off. I hummed in agreement and kissed my way down his neck to his chest and toned stomach before scooting away to pull off the impeding garment. He turned on his side to face me, instantly placing his long fingers between my slowly forming wetness, drawing them through my lower lips and making shudders run through me.

My hand returned to his hardness, gripping the outline of his shaft and stroking him in conjunction with my own pleasure. i spread my legs wider, giving him more room to slip a single finger inside my willing hole. I mewled his name, trying not to be too loud in case any of his roommates had come home. It was getting hard though with the way he was curling his finger and pulling down the cup of my bra to suckle at my breast. With my free hand i dug my fingers into his thick hair, fisting the locks tightly as i arched my chest into his mouth.

I rubbed my thumb over the tip of his cock, drifting over the small slit that had begun to leak. He tensed then, muscles within his thighs trembling ever so slightly. "P-please..."

"Hmm?" I kissed his cheek and nudged my forehead against his.

"C-could you...? Would you...? I mean you dont have to-i dont want to make you uncomfortable-but maybe, if you want, um..."

"Do you want me to suck you off?"

Wonwoo chuckled nervously. "A-ah...y-yeah. Thats what i meant to say."

"Will you keep touching me while i do it? Your fingers feel...really good." I buried his face in his chest even though he couldnt see my embarrassment in the dark. We were both fumbling idiots that could barely get through anything sexual without something triggering our nervousness. It was almost comical. I was glad we could at least say what we wanted from each other even if it was through stutters and mumbles.

“Yeah, of course. I want you to feel good too.” He assured me.

I switched my position to lower my head towards his cock while my ass wiggled closer to his chest. His finger resumed its position inside me, being joined by another to stretch the small space open. As he pleasured the soft walls within me, i guided him into my mouth, wrapping my lips around the thickness of his head. He kicked off his underwear and spread his legs more, giving me room to stroke what couldnt fit in my mouth. The feel of his girth against my tongue had me struggling to hollow out my cheeks but i bounced my head away, wanting him to feel the utmost pleasure. With us being wrapped up in the intensity of our sensuality we barely noticed the door opening or the light flickering on until we heard an "Oh fuck!!"

Wonwoo and i both shot up, squinting hard to see a tall figure now a few feet in front of us. I screamed and tried to cover myself and Wonwoo as quickly as possible. “Mingyu!?” He shouted. “You couldn’t have knocked?!”

“I didn’t know you were getting laid! Besides it’s my room too!...Wait.” Wonwoo’s roommate seemed to have a revelation. “Dude, you’re getting laid! Finally!” We watched as he ran out the room screaming, “Yo Vernon! Wonwoo’s finally getting laid!”

Wonwoo groaned and flopped back onto the mattress, covering his face with a pillow as he groaned deeply. Though we may not have been able to see without our glasses, it didn’t take 20/20 vision to see that we couldn’t have a night to ourselves without something going wrong.

[isolavirtuosa]

Starting Over (For Real?) 21-22

[fanfiction] NaruSasu

Read the previous parts here.

- 21 -

  Land was visible in the distance.

I knew this because I could hear Naruto shrieking about it above deck, clomping around in some kind of celebratory dance.  Sai the Robot decided to join in, and the creaking that proceeded made me worry about the integrity of our vessel.

Kakashi cracked an eye open.  “That’s not very conducive to sleeping.”

“It is not,” I agreed.

He smiled at me, a crinkling of his eyes.

I sniffed and looked away.

He sat up, stretching his arms over his head and yawning loudly.  “I guess we can sleep when we’re dead.”

I appreciated his cynicism, but I didn’t want to agree with him again so I stayed silent.

“How are your legs?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Oh, so that’s why you ride on Naruto’s back like a monkey?”

I breathed out heavily through my nose.

His grin widened.

“Can you take off the fucking mask already?” I complained.

“Aw, do you want to see my beautiful face so badly?” he cooed.

“I take it back, keep it on.”

He pulled down the mask.

His face was so normal I didn’t know how to react.

He grinned, and it was exactly the shit-eating expression that it appeared to be when you could only see his eyes.  He pulled the mask back up.

I was frozen in place.

“Our little secret,” he said cheerfully.

“I want my innocence back,” I hissed.

Kakashi cracked up.

“Why did you do that?” I asked, my voice sounding a lot more vulnerable than I intended.

“A show of good faith,” he said, sitting up.  “Let me work on your legs.”

“Hell, no!” I snapped, shifting away from him.

“I have some healing techniques,” he said, tapping his scar.

I looked at him.  “You don’t have a sharingan anymore.  So what was that energy I felt when you were fighting Morino?”

“Oh, you noticed that?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck in a very Naruto-like ‘aw, shucks’ kind of gesture.  “You really are amazing in a crisis, Sasuke.  We wouldn’t have walked away from that attack if it wasn’t for you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“One arm, no legs, one eye devoted to making sure your… partner was safe… and you still had an eye to spare on me, all while fighting a Hyuuga!” he declared.

“A weak, disposable Hyuuga,” I said, trying not to glory in how amazing I was and focus on Kakashi’s constant avoidance of any and all topics I brought up.

“You’ve become a good leader,” he said softly.

“I’m not a leader,” I muttered.  I wondered where my team was.

“I’m proud of you.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

He was suddenly very close.  “So as I was saying,” he said, digging his chakra into my legs.

I held in a scream.  Just barely.

Kakashi just calmly continued to work.

I leaned my head back, trying to take in deep breaths, but it sounded more like I was panting.

Then something popped and I did scream because the pain was excruciating.

“There you go,” Kakashi said cheerfully, giving my legs a final pat.

Naruto was already down the stairs and throwing his arm around me.  “What happened?!”

I melted into Naruto’s hold, my body limp.

“What the hell did you do to him?!” he shrieked at Kakashi.

“I fixed him,” Kakashi said.  “You’re welcome.”

“He doesn’t look fixed!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be operating the boat?”

“Oh, uh…”

“Well, I guess you’re entitled to a five minute break,” Kakashi said, throwing his arms behind his head and sauntering up the stairs.

Naruto grumbled angrily until he was out of sight, then kissed my forehead and started fussing over me.  “Are you okay, love?  What did he do?  Hey, Sas’, come on, talk to me.”

“I think I can walk,” I said, flexing my legs experimentally.  I was still too exhausted to even sit up on my own, though.

Naruto stroked my hair and kept mumbling reassuring nonsense at me until my senses started to come back.

I pushed him away and sat up properly.  The pain had receded, and when I tried to stand, I was pleasantly surprised that I didn’t fall on my face.  I teetered a little, but I stood.

“Holy crap, he really did fix you,” Naruto marveled.

“The muscles are still shit,” I muttered, sitting back down.

“But you didn’t even use chakra to stand!” he said, happily smothering me in a hug.

I pushed him away again.  “Aren’t your five minutes up?”

He gave me an annoyed look before securing a hand in my hair and pulling me in for a quick kiss.  “I love you, I’m so happy that you can stand, you are gorgeous, and I’m going to finish getting us to Water now.”

I watched him go up the stairs and I got up slowly to follow him.  It took longer than I would have liked, and I’m sure I looked like an idiot, but no stupider than I’d looked riding on Naruto’s back the last few months.

The Land of Water was doing well.  They’d had minimum damage from the God Tree, and they were probably overfishing their waters, but for now food was abundant.

Also the Mizukage had retired.

“Did she find herself a decent man?” Kakashi asked, turning the smile way up on his eye.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” the fisherman told him cheerfully.

“That’s so great,” Kakashi said, giving the man a friendly wave before returning to the helm.

“I wonder how she met anyone bein’ trapped in the God Tree,” Naruto mused.

“Do you really think the Mizukage just retired?” I asked.

He shrugged.  “We all changed in our dream worlds, and the Fifth is always talking about finding a man… like always.”

“Baby, seriously?” I growled.

Everyone looked at me.

I could feel myself going red.

“I’m your baby?!” Naruto asked delightedly.

“Yes, my diaper-wearing, non-stop-crying infant,” I said, staring intensely at the deck.  “There’s no fucking way that Terumi Mei just quit being the mizukage.”

“Loverboy has a point,” Kakashi agreed.

Naruto reached over, thumbing along the back of my hand.

I smacked him away.

“I don’t think it’s safe here,” Kakashi said.  “We should head north.”

“Where is safe?” I asked, rolling my eyes.  “Not that it matters, because we can take care of ourselves.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Kakashi said, patting me on the head.

I scowled and tried to swat him away, but he was already on the move, clamping Naruto on the shoulder.

“Just keep being your charming self and luring in as many powerful allies as we can get,” he said.

“It’d be easier to do if we got off this boat and were actually… among the people,” Naruto said.

“When we get to Lightning,” Kakashi said, taking the wheel and steering us away from the shore.

“That’s going to take forever,” I muttered, already tired of living on a boat.

But of course Kakashi was right.

The attack came at night, during Naruto’s watch.  I’d lent him my fingers to make some clones when we changed shifts, so he wasn’t completely useless like that last time we were attacked while he was on watch.

It almost felt like overkill when the other three of us joined the fight.

“Why do people even bother attacking us?” Sai asked, doodling boredly on a scroll before unleashing a half-hearted lion.

“I’ll show you to take us seriously!” one of the fodder roared, charging at him.

“We need to attract a higher caliber of enemy,” Kakashi murmured, perched on the railing of the boat with his book out.

I took down one of the attackers with a katon from where I was sitting next to Kakashi.  “I thought you didn’t want us to get cocky?”

“Yeah, but we still gotta be realistic,” he said.  “This is like stomping on ants.”

There weren’t any conscious enemies left to protest.

Naruto bounded over to me, tail wagging.  “See, I wasn’t useless.”

“You weren’t useless,” I agreed, pinching his cheeks together.

He grinned.

I let my hand slide into a caress.

We’d really become the kind of couple that carried on in public.  I hated myself for it as I continued to bask in Naruto’s smile and lack of injuries.

“They’re wearing the mark of the Water Daimyou,” Kakashi commented, eyes still glued to his book.

“What’d we ever do to that guy?” Naruto complained.

“A power vacuum means a power grab,” Kakashi hummed.

“Why don’t you say something else vague that seems like it’s insightful but isn’t?” I muttered, sliding off of the railing onto my feet.

“Lookit you,” Naruto marveled.

“Shut up.”

“But standing is so sexy!”

“Sai’s standing; do you think he’s sexy?” I asked irritably.

“You know what I mean!” he protested.

“So you do think that Sai is sexy?”

“Oh, my,” Sai said.  “Am I sexy?”

“No, god!” Naruto said, flailing his arms around.

“Does anyone want to figure out why these daimyou lackeys attacked us?” Kakashi asked.  “Or did Naruto want to rank all his travelling companions by who can stand the sexiest?  Because if so…” he trailed off, popping a hip.

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?!” Naruto cried.  He grabbed my arm and started tugging me towards the stairs.  “Sasuke is the only person I sex up!”

“What?” I said.  “Don’t drag me into this,” I protested, even as I let him physically drag me down the stairs.

“Sasukeeeeee,” he whined, helping me sit when we reached the bottom.  My legs ached.

“Naruto,” I said, perfectly calmly.

“Hm, yeah, love?” he asked.

“When did we decide that you can just talk about our very private sex life whenever you want in front of whoever you want?”

“Well, we didn’t exactly decide that,” Naruto hedged.  “But everyone knows we’re a couple, so…”

“I’m sorry, we’re a what?”

He immediately turned into Middle-Aged-I’m-Disappointed-in-You Naruto.  “We’re a couple,” he said with a frown.

“Where was I when this was decided?”

He opened his mouth and immediately closed it.

“Spit it out.”

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” he muttered.

“Oh, were you going to hit me with an obvious but cutting truth?”

“Yeah, actually,” he said, putting his hand on my knee and rubbing absently.

“Oh, please do enlighten me.”

“No, love, I don’t think that’s the kind of person I want to be,” he said, his touch turning into a massage.

“An honest one?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes met mine slowly, probing into me.  “The kind of person who lashes out at the person he loves the most in the world just to make himself feel better.”

I did not like the way he was looking at me and I dropped my gaze.

“You looked like you were in pain before,” he said quietly.  “I just wanted to come down here and make sure you’re okay.  But then… my brain stopped thinking good.”  He paused in his massage.

I let myself look at him again and he was blushing.

“Shit, is this what puberty is?  It’s gross.  I’m gross.  I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly.

I let my eyes drift down to his loose orange track pants.  If I looked right at it, it was obvious.

“Was it Kakashi’s sexy standing?” I asked.

“Sasukeeee!”

I could actually see his erection wilt slightly and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is this the answer to all my problems?” he asked hopefully.  “Think of Kakashi, think of Kakashi…”

“You don’t think Kakashi is attractive at all?” I asked.

“Kakashi is the only person grosser than me,” Naruto said confidently.  He beamed at his penis, which was now only at half-mast.  “I mean he’s… wait… wait… do you think he’s attractive?”

I shrugged noncommittally.

“You’re not serious.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You think Kakashi is attractive!” he cried.

“Really?!” Kakashi asked, peeking down the stairs.

“No,” we both answered.

He pouted, and now that I’d seen his face I could imagine it.  “Well, anyway, we took care of the guys that attacked us, in case you cared about that.”

“Took care of how?” Naruto asked.

Sai peered around Kakashi’s shoulder.  “Tied them up and put them adrift on one of the lifeboats.  Naruto, did you already finish your intercourse?  That was quick, as usual.”

“We weren’t having sex!” Naruto said, flailing around anxiously.

“Yes, of course,” Sai said with a nod.  “So it seems like the daimyou is trying to exterminate all ninjas.”

“But he sent ninjas to fight us,” I said.

“Yeah, things are about the get interesting,” Kakashi hummed.

The smart thing to do would have been to head out to sea and go straight to Lightning.

 - 22 -

  We kept our boat near the shoreline, moving leisurely through the many islands of the Land of Water.  The citizens we met along the way went from being friendly to increasingly hostile, not even willing to speak to us when we docked.

“Meaaaat,” Naruto whined, staring longingly at the shop that had just pulled its shutter down as soon as we’d set foot in the town.

“Not ramen?” Sai teased cheerfully.

“Ohmigod, rameeeeeeen,” he groaned.

“We could try our luck at hunting,” Kakashi suggested, gesturing towards the forest.

“Or, as highly trained ninjas, we could just take what we wanted,” I alternatively suggested.

“Sasuke!” Naruto cried, shocked and appalled.

I shrugged.

He sighed, his shoulders sagging.  “Maybe you’re right,” he muttered.

I punched him in the arm and moved towards the woods.  Kakashi and I were a good hunting team, and we brought back a rabbit for each of us.

Sai and Naruto were parked on the beach, keeping an eye on the boat and an eye out for hostiles, but they seemed to be having a fairly serious conversation.  Naruto still spared me a glance as we approached, his smile reaching his eyes before he turned back to Sai.

“I wonder if goodness can survive in this new world order,” Kakashi hummed.

I ignored him and sat down by the fire, using a kunai to skin the rabbits.

Naruto sidled over next to me, his arm curling around my waist.

“Do you not see this pointy object in my hand?” I asked, elbowing him away.

“I’m a highly-trained ninja,” Naruto protested, staying stubbornly close, and then proceeding to up the ridiculousness by resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I’m trying to work,” I grumbled.

“You’re such a good provider,” he hummed, lips brushing my neck.

Goosebumps ran up my arms and I almost dropped the kunai.  “Fuck off,” I muttered.

Naruto was staring up at me in keen interest.  “Don’t be mean,” he hummed, lips moving against my skin.

I elbowed him away sharply.  “There is a time and place for things.”

“Okay, but they’re always around,” he said with a quick glance towards Sai and Kakashi, “and I just need to… something,” he complained.

“Don’t mind us,” Sai commented as he spitted one of Kakashi’s skinned rabbits and placed it over the fire.

I felt my blood pressure rising, and Naruto was sticking out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy.

He made me stupider.

I leaned in and gave him the most chaste kiss possible.

He took over, and then there we were, sucking face while I had a dead rabbit in my hand.

For a moment, I didn’t care.  I felt at peace when we were like this.  I just wanted the world to be me and Naruto-

I pulled away, embarrassed.  “Go away,” I muttered, returning to my skinning and doing a shitty job of it.

He kept looking at me like I was supposed to look back at him.

I got some sticks and put the rabbits over the fire.

Sai and Kakashi really weren’t paying attention to us.  Sai was drawing something in his notebook, and Kakashi might have actually been reading the book in his hands.

The world didn’t revolve around us.  It shouldn’t revolve around us.

I needed to stop embarrassing myself in public.

I needed to stop embarrassing myself everywhere.  What did being close to Naruto do to my brain cells?

“Where are you going?” Naruto asked, already following me.

“To the lake,” I said, holding up my bloody hand.

As soon as my hand was washed, we were lip locking again on a boulder next to the lake.

“Sorry, love,” he sighed against my mouth.

“Why?” I growled.

“I can’t really control myself anymore,” he said.  His grip was digging into the rock we were sitting on in a way that was threatening to actually split it apart.

“I’m not doing much better,” I muttered.

“At least you don’t walk around with a permanent erection,” Naruto bemoaned.

“I kissed you in front of Kakashi,” I said with a shudder.  “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he protested.  “Just being your adorable, sexy boyfriend.”

“I don’t agree to any of that.”

“Sasuke.”

I looked at him.

We were kissing again.  And again and again and…

Naruto pulled away, panting.  “Sasukeeee,” he whined.

He looked young and cute, but also ridiculously horny.

There was no chakra anywhere near us.  We’d probably be late for dinner, but oh well.

I pulled his pants down to his thighs before he really knew what I was doing.

“Sasuke!” he gasped, looking around frantically.

“Shut up,” I said, sliding to the ground and kneeling between his dangling legs.

He swallowed.  “Sas’, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

That shut him up momentarily, his eyes blown with lust.

I reached for him.

He stopped me again.  “Have you ever…?”

“Yes,” I snapped, taking him in my hand and leaning in.

He gasped.

My gag reflex wasn’t as finely tuned as the dream world had led me to believe, but whatever.  I was a quick learner.

Naruto didn’t have any complaints.

It was bitter on my tongue, and I ended up spitting it into the lake.

“What if some girl is swimming in there and she gets pregnant?” Naruto murmured, trying to sound worried but mostly sounding blissed-out and content.

“Sperm can’t live in water,” I said, pinching his thigh.

“Mm.”

I could feel myself smiling and tried to stop, but Naruto just looked so stupid and happy.

“C’mere,” he said.  The tilt of his head suggested it was an order disguised as a request.

“I’m washing my hand” I said, rinsing it in the lake for the second time in so many minutes.

He waited, and I came back.  He wrapped me in a hug, pressing his face into my chest.  “I’m kinda embarrassed,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, Naruto, lots of men prematurely ejaculate.”

“You are such an asshole sometimes, you know.”

“Mm.”

He sighed.  “I was talking about… I dunno.  I feel like a sex-depraved maniac and like you’re just humoring me.”

“Do I seem like someone who humors you?”

“No, you really don’t,” he agreed.  “But… Sas’…”

“But what?”

“I just… worry,” he said.

“About?”

He took a deep breath.  Then he didn’t say anything.

“We need to get back,” I said, shaking out of his hold.  I felt my legs starting to give out.

Naruto caught me and shifted me to his back.  “Don’t push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, hooking my arm around him.

“Someone’s following us,” he murmured as we moved back towards the beach.

“About one kilometer northeast,” I said.

Naruto picked up speed, and the chakra signature picked up speed.

We emerged from the forest back onto the beach.

Kakashi and Sai were eating their rabbits, looking perfectly relaxed.

“Let’s go,” I said, nodding my head towards the boat.

“Have you picked up a friend?” Kakashi asked, taking a leisurely bite of his food while he doused the fire.

“Not sure,” Naruto said, grabbing our dinner to go and moving towards the boat.

“Should I check it out?” Sai asked, glancing in the direction that we all sensed the chakra signature approaching from.

“Let it play out,” Naruto said, and just like that we were all on the boat and moving out.

“They stopped,” I said, leaning against the railing and watching the island retreat into the distance.

“Hmmmm,” Kakashi said unhelpfully.

“Crisis averted,” Naruto declared, turning to his food and devouring it.

“When did you become the leader?” I asked, squinting at him.

“Huh?” he said with a mouth full of food.

I looked away in disgust.

“Can there really be a leader of such a band of charming misfit rogues?” Kakashi asked.

“Tell me when it’s my watch,” I said, limping down into the bottom of the ship.

I had privacy for about five minutes before Sai came down.

“Your legs are hurting,” he observed.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said.

“It is if this boat is about to be attacked,” he said with a shrug and a smile.

“They turned back.”

“Something is going on.”

“We’ll deal with it when something actually happens.”

“You are very self-sabotaging.”

I sighed, loud and annoyed.

“Does that mean I can help you with your legs?” he asked, kneeling in front of me.

“No.”

He studied my face.  “Are you ever going to trust me?”

I looked back at him.  “I don’t trust Kakashi and I’ve known him for years.  Why would I trust you?”

“That’s not true,” Sai said.  “You trust him very much.”

I rolled my eyes and pretended he wasn’t there.

“Your pride is what’s going to get you killed,” he said.  It wasn’t a threat, it was just a statement of fact, and that irritated me more than anything.

“It’s what’s kept me alive until now,” I ground out.

“Oh, I thought it was your magic eyes and your metaphysical bond with the most powerful ninja alive.”

“Myself?”

Sai burst out laughing.  It was a real, genuine sound that I’d never heard come out of his mouth before.

I looked at him.

He smiled at me, and there was something so natural about it that it felt unnatural on his face.  “Let me work on your legs.”

“I’d rather not,” I said, rolling up the loose pants I was wearing.  “But since you’re so thirsty for it…”

“I’ve had sufficient liquid intake today,” he said, shaking his head.

“You are dumber than Naruto sometimes,” I muttered.

“And you’re a jackass who can’t just say ‘thank you’ like a normal person.”

Maybe Sai was earning my begrudging respect.

It felt similar to what the medic Shigeo had done, and also as horribly painful as what Kakashi had done.

“We learn a lot of medical jutsu in the ANBU,” Sai explained.  “If your medic nin is the one who’s injured, the other members of the cell have to be able to step up and take care of injuries.”

“How interesting,” I muttered, trying to keep the pain off of my face.

“You need to be doing this every day,” he said.  “The damage to your chakra pathways was severe, and you’ve been making it worse by forcing the chakra through them to call up Susanoo and other frivolous things.”

I held in all of the childish things I wanted to lash out at him.  Because he was right.  They were all right.  I was sabotaging myself.

Sai’s eyes were fixed on my legs as he seared fire through them.  “It wasn’t someone from Konoha.  Following us.”

“Someone from Kiri,” I said.

“You think so, too?”

“The Konoha ANBU wouldn’t be stupid enough to follow us into this unknown situation,” I reasoned.  “It’s obvious that the mizukage hasn’t retired of her own free will and that the daimyou has started some kind of anti-ninja revolt.”

“But if it’s one of the daimyou’s men, then how did he get ninja to work for him?” Sai mused.

“Offers of money?  Power?  The usual ways that one hires a ninja.”

Sai hummed his agreement.

I endured the pain, and when he finished he patted my leg, standing up and stretching.

“No one can know about Naruto,” he said out of the blue.

“I thought he was the most powerful ninja alive.”

“With two arms, yes,” he said.  “With you by his side to complete his seals, yes.  But if he gets caught out somewhere by himself…”

I didn’t want to dwell on my worst nightmare.  “So you can concede that based on Naruto’s current state, I am the strongest ninja alive.”

Sai shook his head, smiling exasperatedly.  “Uchiha.”

I went to call him by his last name and realized I didn’t know it.

“Sai is just a codename, you know,” he said quietly.  “I don’t have a real name.”

“Everyone has a real name.”

“Not when you’re in Root.”

Fucking Danzo.  I was glad I killed him.  “We can find your name.”

Sai looked puzzled for a moment.  “Uchiha, are we… becoming friends?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, standing up slowly.  It hurt and my legs were tired from walking around all day and then being ripped apart by Sai’s chakra.

“I should try emulating you and your ‘I don’t give a shit about you’ attitude,” Sai said.  “The way you lie makes you very popular.”

I breathed out heavily and resumed pretending that he wasn’t there.

“Sasukeeee!” Naruto called, bounding down the short staircase.

I looked at him.

“I missed you,” he said, making a kissy face at me.

I thought about saying ‘the feeling wasn’t mutual’, but decided not to give Sai the satisfaction of watching me lie.

Instead, I let him pull me into a kiss.

This was exactly what I’d done in the first dream world, let Naruto turn me into an idiot.  So why was I doing it again?

Because I’d been happy there?

It was stupid.

Fuck, this moron made me happy with a look, and I was going to fuck it all up.

“Ahem,” Sai said.

Naruto ignored him and continued to love on me.

“A-hem-hem,” Sai repeated.

Our eyes met over Naruto’s head.

“I think our visitor is back on track, and he’s brought some friends,” he said, pulling out a scroll.

I could feel it as soon as he said it.  They weren’t anywhere near us, but they were coming.

“So we trounce them and continue on our course?” Naruto said, mouth still moving against my neck.

“Hope so,” Sai said cheerfully.

We moved back up to the deck.

[punkscowardschampions]

Grace & Janis

Grace: Did you even tell anyone you were staying out?? 🤔🤔 Janis: Did YOU warn the fam you were inviting the devil inside? 🤔🤔 Grace: Rude! Grace: Someone woke up on the wrong side of the barista's bed Grace: OMG is he that bad? How shaming Janis: Wouldn't you all love to know Grace: Like you would anyway, you don't have anything to compare him too Janis: Again, you wish you knew Janis: but yes, I text them Janis: that it? Grace: Oh honey, we ALL knew you were a virgin Grace: Did he? Grace: Before you made it obvious, I mean Grace: You should have come home first, me & the girls could have helped you out Janis: It's cute Janis: all the things you THINK you know Janis: yeah, that'd be fun Janis: Mia must've dropped the invite on her way out Janis: with the story, likw Grace: 🙄🙄 Grace: girl please Grace: Mia'll get over it Grace: Unlike ME! You could've told me! Janis: Get over herself? Janis: Unlikely Janis: Told you what? Grace: OMG how hungover are you!? Don't be dense Grace: THE GOSSIP obvs Grace: I have to hear it from Mia Grace: so UNACCEPTABLE Janis: It's gossip 'cos she made it Janis: as if I had a chance to tell you or anyone, even if I wanted, when she went live with it Grace: There's always time to give me the real story Grace: You've got a phone Grace: Look how quick you answered this morning 🙄 Janis: 'Cos I thought you might have some real concern Janis: shoulda known better Grace: I AM concerned bitch Grace: you could be in a ditch Janis: Yeah, new boy's a serial killer Janis: this ain't the CW Grace: I didn't even know you were with HIM, did I? Grace: You never tell me anything Janis: Now who's being dense Janis: 1+1=2 Grace: Excuse me for having a nun for a sister Grace: Usually Janis: Again Janis: get a clue Grace: OMG Grace: I'm trying Janis: Bless 💕 Grace: Are you coming home TODAY? Janis: Are the coven gone Grace: I wouldn't bother asking if they hadn't Grace: I'm not stupid Janis: Probably then Janis: I got stuff to do Grace: One of them better be 🚿 Grace: Whelan's is soooooooo gross Janis: Not like you've ever got inside to know Grace: It's not like I want to Grace: like I said, ew Janis: Not with that baby face 😂 Grace: Shut up Janis: Like I said, bless Grace: I hate you so much Grace: This is what I get for being nice Janis: Nice Janis: Where? Grace: This WHOLE convo Grace: From the moment I checked you were still alive Grace: & I defended you last night GOD KNOWS why Janis: Shouldn't have to Janis: if your friends weren't cunts you wouldn't be in such a mood Grace: You're the only one being a bitch to me, Janis Grace: Newsflash Janis: Nah Janis: I'd have to be interested for that Grace: Yeah we KNOW you're only into barista boy Janis: Why would I be interested in anything you're doing Janis: it's them with the fucked priorities for giving a shit Grace: OMG get over yourself Grace: getting one boy to sleep with you doesn't make you God's gift Grace: 🙄🙄 Grace: Like I told you before, he'll get bored Janis: You first Janis: Like I told you before, get a hobby Janis: pass it on Grace: Whatever Grace: Don't come crying to me when he realises how much of a bitch you are Janis: 😰 Janis: Don't come to me when you grow a backbone and/or personality of your own Janis: still won't be interested Grace: I already have both thanks Janis: 👌 Grace: 👋 Janis: Cute 😂 Grace: At least one of us is Janis: Sick burn Janis: If only someone that weren't Mia thought so, eh babe? Janis: Sad times 💔 Grace: Take your own advice and get a clue Janis: 😂 #exposed Janis: get some self-esteem Grace: You need it more Grace: Letting that boy use you like this....tragic Janis: I'm God's gift, remember Janis: Can't have it both ways baby Grace: I said you think you are Grace: Not that he does Janis: SELF-esteem, Gracie Janis: not 'this boy would chuck it up me from behind' esteem Janis: poor thing Grace: Faking having it doesn't mean you really do, hun Grace: We can all flex on the snap Grace: You're honestly so embarrassing Janis: I don't need facetune to flex Janis: no filters gonna fix all...that 💋 Grace: You DO need it, you just don't USE it Janis: Nah, I don't though Janis: tragedy Grace: Sure Jan Grace: Keep telling yourself that, babes Janis: You keep telling yourself Janis: can't talk someone into feeling as bad as you do Janis: let your bestie in on the secret and maybe you'll both stop being such poisonous little trolls 💕 Grace: 😂😂😂 Grace: You wish Grace: Can't be bullied without a bully, but you're not that important to Mia 💔 Janis: Oh no Janis: not queen Mia Janis: suck her dick a lil better and she might love you back Janis: story of your life though, that 🤷 Grace: You're actually disgusting Grace: Save it for your boyfriend, I'm sure it makes him really 😍😍😍 Janis: Yeah, and I'm the Nun Janis: the swings and roundabouts you have to go on to make me the bad guy Janis: no wonder you're braindead 😵 Grace: Yeah sure 🙄 Grace: I don't have to say things to cover up the fact I don't know what I'm doing Grace: You sound 12 Janis: Lie of the year goes to Janis: that's all that comes out your mouth Janis: fuck what's going in it 😂 Janis: I'm glad I don't like you, it'd be exhausting having to pity you as hard as is needed Grace: Again, you wish Grace: You tell me to get a hobby, you make the same 'argument' over and over again Janis: it ain't an argument Janis: irrefutable facts Janis: don't like it, change it up Janis: we all got bored a long time ago Grace: Exactly, it isn't, it's you trying to throw shade TERRIBLY Grace: You don't know a single fact about me, babe Grace: Clearly you don't like THAT if you have to keep pretending you do Grace: Hm? Sounds like me with his convo Grace: Don't you have a boy getting bored rn? You might wanna focus on that Janis: Nothing to know Janis: Shadow of a shadow Janis: Literally how are you the blandest granola ass bitch outta the lot and they're all white as hell Janis: not even earning them mixed points, it's a real talent how uninteresting you are, truly Janis: tutorial on that, please Grace: 😂😂😂😂 Grace: But you're STILL talking to me instead of him Grace: What's the matter? Not everything you hoped it'd be? So sad Janis: I got more than one braincell Janis: can talk about put mascara on Janis: though the memes of you failing in your last vid have been amusing, tah for that Grace: You should try doing it Grace: Obvs you need more that mascara but every little helps Janis: Not with a face like that Janis: but you know, more is more and it almost constitutes a mask at this point Grace: 👏👏👏 Janis: There you go, now when you cry like a little bitch about it, you've got reason beyond your victim complex Janis: welcome ✌ Grace: MINE? You're the one who thinks that we're so invested in your little love story that we're all out for sabotage Grace: Please Janis: You know you can see when people watch your stories, yeah? Janis: she was like, the first view Janis: so much for not being important, don't worry, I won't steal your girl Grace: She's mad 'cause you outshined her coffee date moment Grace: Like I said, she'll get over it Janis: Should stop making herself vom Janis: wreaks havoc on your natural glow, but that's neither here nor there Grace: And she's the evil one Grace: That's not funny or true Janis: Cry me a river Janis: not gonna if she kills herself making herself look even worse than her personality Grace: OMG STOP Grace: You're as bad as she is Grace: Obsessed with each other 🙄 Grace: Get a room or something Janis: Awh, wanna be BFFs then?! Janis: 😏 Grace: Shut up Grace: I'd rather be the one who dies Janis: Didn't think so Grace: The first thing you've got right this whole time Grace: Well done, babes Janis: I ain't the one in remedials with the rest of the thickos Grace: Stop calling me stupid Janis: Any time you fancy stopping Janis: be my guest Grace: And what? Be more like you? 😂 Janis: You wish Janis: Be less braindead, would be a start Grace: YOU wish Grace: Caring about what I look like doesn't make me braindead Grace: It makes you a judgey bitch Janis: Yeah, that's the issue Janis: look like Sephora threw up on your face all you want Janis: at least be a person with it, not a painted fuckdoll Grace: So sorry I can't get top marks in maths or whatever OMG Janis: 🔬 Grace: I don't even know what you're talking about now Janis: Just trying to find your last surviving braincell Grace: Find it with the last place you cared about anything Janis: 🔭 Janis: Nope Janis: no signs of life Janis: soz Grace: So glad I could make you feel better about your crap shag by insulting me Grace: But I'm the idiot 👌 Janis: Awh, don't do yourself down Janis: never let it be said you don't have your uses Grace: I'm not here to be used by you, hun Grace: Deal with that Janis: Just a cumdump and Mia's personal bitch Janis: coolio 👍 Grace: Says you Grace: You've known that boy for like a day Grace: & Mia's more concerned with you right now, like I said Janis: 😱 Janis: Are you SLUT SHAMING me Janis: dundundun Janis: know you're 💔 but babes, girl code Grace: I'm stating a fact Grace: You think you're better than me, you aren't Janis: You think I am Janis: I just don't disagree, that's all Grace: I think you're the worst person this family has so far produced Grace: But whatever you need to tell yourself Janis: A dagger through my heart Janis: good thing you've got no place then init Grace: Yeah Grace: Bad enough I have to have the same last name as you all Janis: Marry the first boring white boy who will settle for you and no one ever need know Grace: And follow in your footsteps? No thanks Janis: You couldn't fill these shoes, figuratively and literally Grace: I don't want to Grace: You dress worse than your boyfriend Grace: At least he gets paid to look like that some of the time Janis: as much as I'd LOVE to look like topshop's sale rack Janis: you rinse 'em every time, what's a girl to do Grace: Obvs Grace: It's all my fault you look a state Janis: I don't, so don't trouble yourself Grace: You do, but I won't Janis: Mia don't seem to think so 😘 Grace: She hates you, that's her obsession Grace: Keep looking like that, it fuels her Janis: What, the body she's actually killing herself for? Janis: Will do and it's so effortless Grace: 🙄🙄 Grace: I'm the one who needs a hobby and is soooo uninteresting but you keep talking about Mia cos that's really not Grace: Go into her inbox, please Janis: Like I said, get a personality and we might stand a chance Janis: surgically remove yourself or are you less of a Siamese and more parasite? Grace: Sure, I'll turn myself into her so you can be obsessed with me Grace: You two are ridiculous Janis: 😂😂 Janis: Oh honey Janis: you clearly can't, been trying for years Grace: You wish Grace: Does your boyfriend know you're in love with my best friend? Grace: You might wanna share before he catches feelings Janis: Do you know your best friend kinda hates you? Janis: 😬 too late for you, awkies Grace: Rn the feeling is mutual Grace: Get over it Jan-Jan Janis: 💔 Janis: You'll get over it Janis: well, she'll walk over you, doormat Grace: Like you care Grace: either way Janis: What's the point Janis: You're never going to Grace: I care bitch Janis: You're never going to stand up to her Janis: Why should I be waiting on it with baited breath Grace: You've never waited on me Grace: Don't act like it's Mia's fault Janis: It ain't, it's yours Janis: she's a decent scapegoat though Grace: Again, you wish Grace: Nothing's all my fault, sorry about it Janis: Trust, no part of me wishes for you as my sister Janis: especially what you've become Grace: That makes two of us Janis: You said Janis: with all the care and concern you're claiming Grace: I do care, I just wish I didn't Grace: and that you weren't my sister Janis: Get over it Grace: You can try and tell me what to do as much as you like Grace: Not gonna happen Janis: I know, you're hopelessly pathetic Janis: like I said, no baited breath here Grace: Me? Oh babes Grace: Like I said, tragic Janis: Yeah, you Grace: 😂 Janis: 😥

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Do you think Loki or Bucky would ever be into a plus size girl? Feeling a little down right now and could use a drabble (SFW or NSFW) I hope your move goes well and safely and that you enjoy your holiday, you definitely deserve it!

Love What I See

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC  |  Word Count: 2110 (so not a drabble)

Warnings: Angst, self-hate, body image issues, swearing

No one had seen her since last night, and Bucky was getting worried. He hated prying into her business, but she’d been getting more and more withdrawn lately, and he didn’t like it. “FRIDAY, locate Becca.”

“Becca is in her room, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI responded. 

Becca had come to them because of her powers, but Bucky had been instantly drawn to her because of her name. Becca was short for Rebecca and Rebecca had been his sister’s name. That was where the similarity ended, however, as the Becca of today looked nothing like his sister, nor did she act like her. 

Today’s Becca was tough. She was a powerhouse. She was a woman to be reckoned with. She wasn’t like anyone else, and she had such incredible self-esteem it was mind-boggling. 

He’d heard other people call her plus sized and had finally googled what it meant, not understanding the connotation when he’d thought it meant her big personality only to snort in derision when he’d realized it had to do with her physical shape.

A size larger than the normal range.

Normal range. Even now the idea of it made him roll his eyes. Who the fuck got to decide what normal was? By their definition, he was plus sized. He didn’t fit the same clothing as everyone else. He was far too wide across the chest and back to wear some shirt off the rack in just any old store. He was bigger than Tony, bigger than Sam. Did that make him plus sized? Was Steve? 

No. No one would ever even consider it. 

Plus sized. It was insulting. She was a fucking gorgeous woman. He loved her curves and would give nearly anything to get his hands on her hips, or her pillowy ass, or have those thighs wrap around his head while he-

Bucky shook his head to clear the image from his mind. That was not a thought he needed to be contemplating when he finally saw her face to face, or he’d turn into a blithering idiot and not for the first time.

Arriving at her door, Bucky knocked on it quietly. “Becca?” There was shuffling from within, but no answer and he frowned. “Becca, c’mon, darlin’. It’s Bucky. I know you’re in there.”

“Please… go away, Bucky.” 

Her voice quavered, the sound of tears caused his heart to stop. “Becca. What’s wrong, doll? Look, I’m coming in.” He pushed open the door before she could either lock it or tell him not to. What he found when he entered had him staring at the room in shock.

There were clothes everywhere. It appeared as if everything she owned was strewn around and had been thrown there with seeming abandon. 

“What… happened?” he asked. 

She tugged the robe she had on tighter around her body and turned away from him, thrusting the heel of her hand over her face. “Nothing. Please, just go away.”

He took three long strides across the room and clutched her by the arms. “No, no, I’m not leaving. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I hate…” her breath hitched, “I hate myself.”

“What?” he whispered, completely stunned.

“I’m fat, Bucky. I’m hideous. I hate what I look like and nothing I do to lose weight works.”

His heart plummeted, shocked by her announcement. “What… why would you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth. Tony’s got that stupid party tonight, another one, another chance for me to feel horrible and ugly and huge standing beside Nat and Wanda and Pepper dressed like a joke.”

Bucky’s fingers flexed involuntarily on her arms. “Becca… no.”

“Yes,” she whispered, looking at the ceiling with a tear-streaked face. “I wouldn’t go, but Tony makes it mandatory.”

“You’re being foolish.” He spun her around and shook her by the shoulders. “You’re in no way fat!”

“Look at me, Bucky!”

“I am looking at you!” he bellowed. “Dammit! You’re one of the finest dames I’ve ever seen.”

“Stop it!” she hissed. “Stop lying to me!”

“I ain’t lying!” He shook her harder. “I look at you, and all I see is a fucking gorgeous woman. One warm and bright and so confident.”

“I’m not confident,” she jerked away and sat on the edge of her clothing strewn bed. “I’m just really good at pretending. I’ve done it all my life.”

Bucky scrubbed his hand over his mouth, unable to believe half of what she was saying. He sat slowly down beside her and watched her play with the tie of her robe. “You know,” he started softly, desperate to get through to her, “I don’t like being called a liar, especially when I never have and never will lie to you, Becca. On my way here, I was thinkin’ what a shame it was that people gotta label everything nowadays. I didn’t even know what plus sized was until I googled it.” She cringed away, but he took her hand and tugged her back. “A size above normal. That’s what it said. Well, my question is who the fuck decided skinny as a stick was normal?” He gave a disgusted snort. “Steve and I don’t fit in “normal” sizes. Does that make us plus sized?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. Plus size means fat, Bucky. It’s a nice way of saying obese. I’m a big ol’ Butterball. Thick, chunky, fat, and flabby. I’ve battled my weight my entire life. I’ll never be one of them, and I’d been good with it until I wound up here where everyone looks like they stepped off the cover of fucking Vogue magazine.” She got up and marched over to the rack of dresses he’d not even noticed and jerked one from the hanger. “You see this?”

He shrugged at what looked like a bit of cloth. “Yeah?”

“It’s designer. Pepper has them sent to all of us. Do you know what size it is?”

He shook his head, heart breaking for her as angry tears fell down her face. 

“Too damn small, that’s what size it is. That’s what size they all are. Designers don’t make clothes for big girls, and this happens every time Tony throws a party. I wind up with nothing to wear because this,” she slapped her ass, “and these,” she grabbed her breasts, “are too damn big to fit into something designer!”

She broke then, dropping the dress to the floor to bring her hands to her face and sob like he’d never seen. 

“Oh, dollface,” he sighed, getting to his feet to go and wrap her up in a tight hug. 

“I hate my body!” she cried, clinging to him.

“I don’t,” he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “I adore your body.”

“What?” she gasped, freezing in his hold.

“I think you’re sexy as hell, baby girl. I always have.”

“Shut up,” she whimpered, tucking her face into his shoulder.

“I won’t. I think you’re beautiful, tempting, and lush. You have this juicy ass and the best thighs, god what I wouldn’t give to-” He bit his lip, realizing what he’d been about to admit to.

“What?” she whispered, her lips brushing his throat.

The unintended caress made him shudder, and he knew it was now or never. “Have them wrapped around my head while I made you scream my name.”

She inhaled sharply and drew back to stare at him in utter amazement. “You’re… not serious…”

“I meant every damn word,” he murmured, placing his flesh hand on her cheek. “Baby doll, where I came from women were curvy and full figured and could drive a man wild with nothing more than a twitch of her plump ass. You’re one mighty fine bombshell. I’d love a chance to prove it.”

She bit her lip and searched his eyes. Eventually, her beautiful smile began to break upon her lips and she asked, “Prove it how?”

He grinned big and wide. “By letting me take you to the party.”

“Bucky,” she sighed and made to look away. 

He caught her by the chin and drew her eyes back to his. “Say yes and leave everything else up to me.” She appeared about to protest, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, and he couldn’t take it any longer, finally dipping his head to press a sweet kiss to her lips. “Just say yes,” he said softly when he lifted his head.

“Yes,” she whispered on a sigh as her eyes gradually fluttered opened. 

“I’ll take care of everything. You just worry about putting your closet back together,” he chuckled and kissed her again when she groaned. “Trust me.”

“Always.” She smiled shyly when he kissed her a third time because, Christ, she had the sweetest lips before he finally headed for the door. “Hey, Bucky?”

He paused to grin at her.

“I think you’re pretty sexy, too.”

His grin got all the wider. “Don’t go anywhere.”

***

He waited nervously in the lounge with Steve and fiddled with his tie, hating the damn things still but wanting to do this right. 

“You did good, Bucky,” Steve said, tapping his fist on the top of his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Pepper that mad. Or heard her yell in Italian before.”

“Well, when Becca told me about the designer stuff, I knew Pepper wouldn’t have been involved in that. If she’d known they were purposely excluding Becca, she’d a done something about it.”

“Sharon said Pepper was practically in tears herself when she went to talk to Becca.”

“Crying dames was never my strong suit, pal, but… I really like Becca.” He tugged at his tie a second time. “The shit she said about herself… it was so weird to hear it from her. She always seems so self-assured.”

“Hopefully tonight will be the start of helping with her self-esteem. She’s a great gal, a fantastic addition to the team, and I think you two would be good for each other.”

Bucky made to say more but the elevator announced its arrival and he swung around in time to watch the doors open. His jaw dropped like the glass of whiskey he was holding. Thankfully, Steve’s reflexes didn’t let him down. “Damn,” he whispered staring at the vision blushing between Sharon and Pepper.

The dress was a black sheath which left her shoulders bare, while the body of it was covered in geometric patterns of sparkles. She absolutely glowed and looked radiant with her hair curled over one shoulder.

“Told you he’d be speechless,” Sharon snickered as she made her way over to Steve. 

Pepper gave Becca a hug. “Remember, we are going shopping for you tomorrow. No exceptions.”

Becca nodded. “Thank you, Pep,” she whispered, tears choking her voice.

“I should have noticed. I never meant to make you feel…”

“You didn’t. They did and I let them.” She sent Bucky a glance and a smile. “I should have said something.”

“Well, they will no longer have me as a client, so there is that. Have fun on your date,” Pepper giggled, heading for the party and Tony a few floors away.

Bucky gave an appreciative whistle as Becca got closer. “Damn.”

“You said that already,” she teased.

“It needed to be said twice,” he murmured as he pulled her closer. “Please, please tell me you can see how drop dead gorgeous you are tonight?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, surprisingly I can.”

Bucky brought his flesh hand to her cheek. “And just so you know, I think you’ll be even sexier should that dress find its way to my bedroom floor.”

“Down boy,” Steve snickered from across the room.

“Shut up, punk. I’m talking to my girl.”

“Yours, huh?” Becca murmured, tugging his tie.

“If you’ll have me,” Bucky said just as quietly.

“I’d love to have you,” she whispered and drew him closer. “Especially if you’d like to fulfill that wish from earlier.”

“I’d suggest skipping the party, but you’re way too good looking to keep all to myself. Come dance with me in public.” He leaned down to brush his lips feather light along her cheek to her ear where he whispered, “Then we can dance together in private.”

A flush lit up her cheeks but happiness sparkled in her eyes. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“For what, darlin’?

“For seeing me, even when I have trouble seeing myself.”

“Baby girl, I love what I see.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her with every ounce of his admiration.

-The End-

[storytaeme]

eau de résistance - yoonkook

Yoongi has an existential crisis after he devirginized an adorable freshman who also happens to be his fan. Safe to say, it’s a little hard to avoid falling for someone as cute as Jeongguk. 

(alternative title: baby, f a love song, i need you to say it)

▸ Elements: Romance, Angst, Smut  |  College AU, Interns AU

▸ Word Count: 13,017 words

▸ A/N: After some major fuck ups on my end, I decided to just post this fic up here instead of ao3! Based on a thread I made a while back for yoonkook week :D title from stay frosty royal milk tea by fob just cause I can never title

Out of all the horrible mornings that Yoongi has been through (and that was a lot), this was perhaps the worst one of all. There was something about the crushing realization of a mistake that had his heart clawing against his chest, the undeniable permanence of a consequence that one had to accept in the wake of such a grand error, that made him want to fling himself out a window and backflip off a cliff into a pit of molten lava.

“Joon, I think I might have devirginized someone.”

“What the fuck?” Namjoon sputtered, milk dribbling down his chin and his lips quivering like an earthquake. Yoongi would’ve laughed and commemorated the sight with his phone if he weren’t so busy having an existential crisis that crumbled all he’s ever known about himself.

“I might have devi—”

Namjoon shook his head, “I heard you the first time around, I’m just not sure why you’re telling me this detail to your sexual life. Or why this ‘devirginizing’ is of any importance to my breakfast, which looks kinda gross now thanks to you.”

“You are aware of my rule.”

A snort slipped past the younger’s lips as he rolled his eyes and focused on spooning more cereal into his mouth. “Right, right, no virgins because apparently everyone will fall in love with your magic dick that can woo those who encounter it.” Sometimes he couldn’t believe Namjoon was an honor student with a perfect GPA when he made duck faces with puckered lips.

“Listen,” Yoongi hissed, jerking his index finger in his roommate’s direction, “you know it’s bad. You know.”

“I know how bad it was, but dude,” Namjoon gave him a look, “not everyone’s gonna think you’re whipped for them just because you deflowered their innocence and took away a piece of their soul and goodness from the path of Jesus Christ.”

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temple. “I don’t know why I bother talking to a preacher who lost his virginity to a sugar daddy at age eighteen. I forgot.”

“Shut the fuck up, do not judge me for my life decisions. I was doing it for investment in future endeavors, in other words, college.”

“You finished off that allowance in the first week by binging on vodka to celebrate your getting a sugar daddy!”

Namjoon glared at him because he clearly had made a solid argument. “That’s beside the point.” That was exactly the point. “Anyway, tell me more about this person. Do I know them? Are they hot? I don’t mind taking seconds if they’re solid in the sheets.”

“First of all, you’re fuckin’ gross,” Yoongi offered him a look of unadulterated disgust, which was how he perceived Namjoon most of the time anyway. “Second, he’s a freshman.”

“Oh so like you.”

“Undergraduate freshman.”

Namjoon let out a whistle and wiggled his eyebrows, sticking his tongue out lewdly, “You like those ones, don’t you, hyungie? Fresh face, wide-eyed, perky asses ready to shake.”

“Biggest eyes I’ve ever seen,” Yoongi muttered, his mind instantly whirring back to the night before. Which was an incredibly stupid idea because he was well on his way to a raging boner with the memory alone.  

“So?” the younger shrugged, “you don’t see undergrads a lot. You’ll probably never see this kid again. Also, I thought you said you weren’t gonna fuck with undergrads this time around. Wild kids those ones. We’re getting too old for this.”

Despite the urge to argue that Namjoon was still, in fact, an undergrad, Yoongi took a deep breath and sighed, pursing his lips and glancing out the window. It’s well into the afternoon yet the sun looked absent, however he could still feel a warm tingling on his skin. It was unnerving. “He was different,” Yoongi murmured, knowing that Namjoon was already giving him a look.

“What? His dick sparkles or something?”

“Piss off,” Yoongi flicked crumbs in his direction, ignoring Namjoon’s calling him immature. “He was… cool. Like, really passionate about music and dance. It was cute seeing him ramble on about how excited he was about all this.”

“That’s nice, that all?”

“He’s also a huge fan,” Yoongi said quickly, hiding his face behind his coffee. So, maybe he had been a teensy bit assuaged by the fact that the kid knew his SoundCloud songs like a father does the Bible. Who didn’t like praises? Especially if it came from a very, very good-looking guy who just happened to be a fan, you know. It was all in the coincidence.

Namjoon snorted, “Pleasing your groupies I see.”

“Anyway,” he pressed, “thought it was okay, was cool. I was a little drunk ‘cause we met at some party then one thing led to another and we fucked.”

“Okay, that’s good. That’s like progress.”

“No, not good. The kid was good—” Yoongi moaned absentmindedly. God, the thought of the guy’s thighs flexing and tensing every time he sank down on Yoongi, the kid taking the lead and fucking himself down and the filthiest words spilling from his lips while Yoongi could only whimper helplessly and follow along to whatever the boy had in store for him for the night (and it was a lot). It was good. It was fucking incredible that Yoongi figured—hey, this kid knew what he was doing, he was probably not a virgin.

Guess again.

Namjoon crinkled his nose at him. “Jesus, pull your head out of your ass. I can practically see the image in my head with your boner popping. I get it, he’s really good. So what’s the problem now?”

“He said thank you, Joon. Thank you. He cuddled me afterwards and thanked me.”

“Okay,” Namjoon stared at him quizzically.

“Nobody fuckin’ says thank you after a hookup.”

“You know, unlike you, there are people who have common courtesy even in their procreative endeavors.”

Yoongi glared at him, “Bitch, we gays can’t procreate, this is why you’re not in biology.”

“So he thanked you, what’s the big deal? He’s just nice is all.”

“Seemed too sentimental for me,” Yoongi huffed and threw a scathing look Namjoon’s way before the other could open his mouth to say something he would regret.

Namjoon chuckled, “Well, lucky for you, we have separate programs from undergrads. So, what are the chances that you’re going to see him again?”

Yoongi wanted to die.

If he thought that running into Jeongguk in the streets was the worst thing he could happen, he thought wrong. Dead wrong.

After a crummy morning with the exploding espresso machine courtesy of Namjoon and face-planting down the stairs in his hurry to leave his flat, the last thing he needed was another run of bad luck. However, obviously, the universe had it out for him. Because there he was in the studio he worked in, the studio he dedicated his time and heart into, standing face to face with none other than the kid who had given him the best dicking of the century, ten out of ten would do again. Worse—the kid also had a huge name tag hanging around his neck that clearly said INTERN in big, black, bold letters.

Yoongi didn’t fuck with virgins, and he especially didn’t fuck with coworkers.

Now he’s gone right ahead and done both.

“Are you following me?”

The kid looked alarmed for a second, eyes growing wider than he thought possible, pretty pink lips parting. Yoongi felt his cock twitch in his slacks, remembering how those exact same lips had been wrapped around his nipples. Shit.

“H-hyung,” Jeongguk cleared his throat, straightening awkwardly and even blushing. Fuck, he was cute. Too cute for his own good. “I—uh, no. You said that I could come check out the studio when we—” he paused, gaze flicking up from beneath his thick lashes to look at Yoongi “—we, you know. So I did and I applied to their internship program and I got in.”

Note to self: do not fucking drink. Ever. Again.

“Right, that’s cool,” Yoongi cleared his throat, hoping that the loud, nervous rumbling in his heart wasn’t obvious. “Intern, right. That’s cool.”

At his words, Jeongguk’s lips quirked up on the corners. It seemed that Yoongi’s nerves had cancelled out his. “You said that already.”

“Right, cool.”

Jeongguk giggled a little and Yoongi wanted to smack himself with a book. Preferably a very, very thick and hard one. “So guess I’ll be seeing you around, hyung. Supervisor wants me to reorganize the filing cabinets.”

“Ah, yes, intern work. I remember those days.”

“You make it sound as if you’re three times my age. Calm down, Grandpa,” Jeongguk smirked, “you know, if you’re free, I wouldn’t mind an extra hand to help.”

Yoongi’s mind might have traveled elsewhere with the suggestion, but he just huffed out a laugh, “Yeah, right. I’m way past those days, kid. Have fun, don’t get too many paper cuts.” With a cackle, he left a groaning Jeongguk to start chipping away at the mountains of folders in the record closet.

Tolerance was built as is the case with alcohol, patience towards idiots, and a numbness towards things that made his adrenaline levels spike. It was supposed to build. It was supposed to fester and grow and stop his heart from flipping all over the place whenever he caught sight of Jeongguk. The first few days, the intern looked like a deer in headlights whenever someone called his name. Yoongi hid his smile each time because the younger was cute. Jeongguk was hardworking and sweet, and so easily likable that everyone in the office quickly fell for his toothy grin and silly laugh. He was eager to please, always running here and there for errands. Sometimes, he would even give a cute little salute and a small ‘aye, aye’ before he got started on whatever task he was assigned to. It pissed Yoongi off that some of his colleagues were taking advantage of him that Yoongi might or might not have spilled blistering coffee on a few of them.

But Jeongguk didn’t seem to mind, seemed to like moving around and having things to do. Yoongi figured that it would be fine that they had gotten involved before. Sure, they crossed paths, but it wasn’t as if they were going to fall into step (or bed) together again anytime soon.

Interaction was fine. Yoongi could talk to him and ask him to do things around the office without wanting to get down on his knees and suck the younger off (most of the time, at least).

However, the tolerance just wasn’t there. It wasn’t enough.

It was during quiet hours in the studio that Yoongi realized how weak he truly was for the younger. Whenever Yoongi stayed overtime at the recording booth, he would find Jeongguk popping by to check on him from time to time. Even when he insisted that it was basically his bedtime, much to Jeongguk’s distaste, the younger would hover around and watch Yoongi work with the brightest eyes. When the elder asked him why he wanted to spend so long in the studio, he had just shrugged, “It’s cool watching you work. You know a lot and I want to learn from you.”

As if his ego and heart hadn’t been inflated enough, this just put the cherry on top of the cake. Jeongguk would bring him steaming mugs of coffee, done just the way he liked it with a sprinkle of sugar and a splash of milk. In his sleep-deprived state, he really couldn’t complain about any dose of caffeine. The younger would hover quietly behind him, watching his fingers move deftly at work over the sound system.

“Guk, you really shouldn’t be out so late,” Yoongi grumbled, giving the taller boy a light shove as they jogged down the steps of the studio. It was a little over one and Yoongi was making his way home at long last. Jeongguk had stuck around again, yawning this time as puffs of warm breath mingled in with the cold air outside.

“‘M fine, just a little tired,” Jeongguk mumbled cutely, bringing his fist up to rub at his eyes.

Yoongi’s heart twinged at the sight. He yanked off his own scarf and wrapped it around the younger’s neck. Jeongguk was decked out in nothing more than a flimsy sweater that could barely barricade him from the miserable winter temperature. There was no way he was going to make it back home alive in that getup. “You should learn to dress properly too,” Yoongi grunted under his breath, tightening the knot around the boy’s neck. “You’re going to catch hypothermia at this rate.”

“Mm, nope,” he giggled sleepily, “I’m basically a human heater. Feel me.” He stuck out his bare hands in Yoongi’s direction.

The elder glanced at them hesitantly and Jeongguk nudged them forward again, doe eyes practically begging him to touch them. Yoongi sighed, relenting and mimicking the gesture. His fingers slowly ran over the back of the boy’s hand, the pads of his fingertips smoothing over the delicate veins before wrapping around the hand altogether. He was right. He was warm.

However, with how hard his heart was beating in his ears, Yoongi wasn’t quite sure if that warmth was emanating from the boy across from him or if it rooted in some sort of unfamiliarity brewing in his veins. Nevertheless, he quickly pulled away and shoved his hands deep, deep into his pockets. Jeongguk’s eyes remained wide and curious, peering at Yoongi as if he was attempting to pry into his thoughts.

“Let’s head back, kid,” Yoongi grumblesd under his breath, opting to show interest in his shoes rather than the intrigued expression painted on the younger boy’s face.

With small talk and a struggle against the bitter cold, Yoongi walked Jeongguk to the same station and parted ways when Jeongguk hopped on a different line. Safe to say, he spent the train ride home trying to rid himself of the image of a certain someone’s soft features and, especially, his deliciously warm hands.

In spite of Yoongi’s constant insistence for Jeongguk to leave earlier, the kid still refused to listen—instead choosing to stay late nights at the studio, bearing gifts of sustenance to keep Yoongi (read: the living dead) alive. Most of the time, he ignored the other’s presence and focused solely on his work before him. All his life, his time had been dedicated to music and all its accompaniments, but the universe had added another his way.

Jeongguk was curious and inquisitive, but never impolite with his questions. He did his best to keep out of Yoongi’s way but it was difficult for the other man to ignore his existence when he was so… big.

Just between the two of you (you, the reader, and Yoongi), Jeongguk’s size was definitely something that caught Yoongi’s eye the first time around—and the second and the third.

“Guk, gonna say this again, but you should not stay this late,” the elder sighed, yanking off his headphones and letting them wrap around his neck loosely. Jeongguk is yawning on the couch, homework before him seeming to be filled with sleepy, barely legible scribbles. “You’ve got classes tomorrow and I heard Professor Taesuk isn’t the friendliest with people who fall asleep in class.”

Jeongguk let out a small whine, “But I don’t wanna go home yet. I can’t focus on homework at home. I do better work here.”

“But you need rest,” Yoongi pressed again, “you should’ve gotten this done earlier and maybe cut back some hours at the studio. You’re not even getting paid.” Jeongguk, as a starting intern, was basically offering his services for free—sacrificing time and effort to build a network of connections that might come in handy someday.

“I like watching you work, makes me feel like I gotta be productive too,” he grinned unapologetically with droopy eyes.

Yoongi’s lips thinned into a stubborn line. “Go home for tonight. Come on. I’ll walk with you to the station as always.”

It’s become a habit for the two to trudge together through the cold for the commute back home. It wasn’t the best of circumstances but Yoongi appreciated those moments of silence as the snow and gravel crunched underneath their boots. Other times, Jeongguk would hum a familiar tune, his honeyed voice carrying in the wind. The sound intermingled with the rhythmic beats of Yoongi's heart, intertwining to create a melody that had his soul warming in the frost.

“Hey, hyung,” Jeongguk started just as his train arrived at the platform. Yoongi looked up. “Thanks—” pause “—for everything. You’re even cooler than I thought you’d be and I just… I like hanging out with you. You're everything I expected and… more.”

The announcement of the train’s next stop rang loud and clear across the station, but the only thing echoing in his ears was Jeongguk’s sweet words. Even as the train rushed towards them, the rails rattling with the sheer force of it, Yoongi thought they could never compare with the thrumming in his veins and the bells ringing in his ears. Jeongguk’s cheeks were pink from the cold and perhaps from the confession. “Um, no problem. You’re not so bad yourself,” Yoongi cleared his throat, feeling his own face flame just a tad.

Yoongi didn’t quite know how to remove the sudden, strange fluttering in his stomach, the little flips and churns of his gut, nor did he know whether the thundering in his ears would last or whether it would fade as quickly as the snow melted away into spring.

As the seasons changed, Yoongi found himself more and more entranced by the boy. Jeongguk was always caught within his line of sight. Whatever he was doing, whether it was cleaning up desks for his colleagues or stumbling over his feet to get coffee for the head honcho, Yoongi would always spot him. He pitied the younger for having to work the laborious, tedious tasks that nobody else wanted to do—after all, Yoongi had to go through the same thing when he himself had been a starter.

But Jeongguk never once complained or whined, never once felt an ounce of bitterness even when Yoongi supplied him with the opportunity to let his frustrations out. Instead, he would beam and say that this was a step closer to his goal of success.

“Wait, you want to make music but you’re going into business?” Yoongi questioned, puzzled. His hands froze over his setup as he turned to give the younger a confused look. Jeongguk had only shown passion towards the artistry Yoongi and the studio created, always raving on about a track or a production. Although he had been mostly involved in administrative tasks rather than content creation, Jeongguk had never spoken so highly of the financial side of the business nor has he expressed interest.

Jeongguk shrugged and grinned, “My parents don’t trust me in music, but I do still need their support to go to college since my grades don’t really qualify me for a merit scholarship. But it’s fine! I was thinking of going more into music business? I think that would be pretty dope, but I like singing and learning to produce too.” A pause ensued and the two sat in silence as Yoongi chewed on his words. Before he could respond, Jeongguk continued—this time with pink coloring his cheeks, “And that’s why I’m really grateful to you, hyung. You’re really cool and I’m learning so much from you.”

And Yoongi—in typical Yoongi fashion—opted for a response that allowed him to turn away and mask his embarrassment. Jeongguk had no problem exposing his admiration for the elder, but Yoongi struggled to control his heartbeat and preventing his death from utter elation.

A small giggle behind him indicated that the tactic hadn’t worked very well after all. And somehow, a part of him didn’t mind that in the least.

It had become a custom for him to slide on his headphones and slip into a zone of focus that barricaded him from the entirety of the outside realm. He existed for hours entirely for his music and the vibrations that pulsed through his ears. Every blemish in the song he cleared with his bare hands and instruments. By the time he was a teensy bit satisfied with his progress, the haze in his reality would clear. Pulling off his headphones, he turned to check on Jeongguk. “Hey, kid—”

And the sight that greeted him was both heart-stopping and endearing. His headphones clattered to the ground and he cursed at himself, quickly picking them up before whipping his gaze to the younger boy to see whether the noise had affected him. However, aside from a small whimper that had Yoongi’s heart squeezing, he was still sound asleep.

“Unbelievable,” the elder muttered, though he couldn’t keep the subtle smile off his face. Lifting himself off the chair, Yoongi did his best to pad quietly to where the boy lied. His face of slumber ever so serene—gone was the mischievousness and blinding smile, leaving a tired angel at rest in its wake.

Yoongi crouched down, ready to shake Jeongguk awake to send him home for the day. However, as he raised his hand, he found himself halting. His keen eyes observed the way his soft bangs fell against his face, how Jeongguk would scrunch up his nose unconsciously every time it tickled his skin. Smiling, the elder instead moved to brush his hair away from his face, gently stroking his temple. Jeongguk’s face melted into one of ease, a smile making its way upon his lips.

The moment seemed to have pulled the brakes on time—the entire world moving in slow motion, from the gentle rise and falls of Jeongguk’s chest, to the way Yoongi’s digits sifted through the younger’s silky strands, and how the boy’s eyelids fluttered open drowsily. Jeongguk blinked slowly, gradually gaining consciousness as reality dawned upon him once more.

Yoongi’s breath hitched in his throat, catching in surprise. On the other hand, the other man seemed to have done the same—his eyes widened, awestruck at the moment. For a while, the two made no moves—staying stiff and still to keep the tensely fragile air steady. It was as if one shift of muscle could’ve shattered the entire moment into shards. But it was proving difficult to breathe and Yoongi wasn’t sure if this was good for either of them, but he didn’t—couldn’t—bring himself to move.

He should’ve pulled away, should’ve coughed or done something to tear away from the intensity of the second. But he didn’t. He was a coward and he liked Jeongguk and he didn’t think that he would ever get a second chance at this opportunity—to stare and observe this beautiful human being too good and too untouched by this world.

However, the other had other things in mind as he scooted forward on the couch. Their faces were a few mere inches from each other. Yoongi could feel the warmth of their breaths mingling in the air. “Hyung,” Jeongguk whispered, slicing gently through the silence. He drifted closer and closer, his eyes falling shut once again. Yoongi prayed and hoped that he had just fallen asleep, but the quick skip in his breath indicated otherwise as his lips finally pressed against the elder’s.

And it was as if time had truly stopped—the entire world freezing on its axis, unmoving and the earth had stopped revolving around the sun and the moon pausing its rotation.

Yoongi was still positioned awkwardly, but he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t deny the familiarity of Jeongguk’s lips, how wonderful they felt, how soft they were, how long he had been waiting for this exact moment.

Jeongguk parted his lips cautiously, gauging the other man’s response to his action. There were alarms blaring in Yoongi’s mind, warning him that this was the point of no return—if he crossed this line, there was no going back. No going back to being coworkers sharing amused looks across the halls, no friendly, quiet nights in the studio.

For once, Yoongi didn’t listen to his head.

He kissed Jeongguk back with as much fervor as the younger gave. Their lips melted together as if they were meant to fit perfectly, like clay around its mold. Yoongi barely registered Jeongguk’s sharp intake of breath before he slowly crawled above the other boy, straddling his hips as he leaned down to join their lips again. His heart burned with flames that licked up his skin, his hands beginning their journey to explore the wide expanse of Jeongguk’s body. He swallowed every whine, every little, delicious whimper that slipped past the younger’s addicting lips.

Jeongguk responded to his every touch, every stroke of finger underneath his shirt and down the outline of his stomach. He canted his hips up to meet Yoongi’s, moaned as he relished in the sensations of Yoongi’s fingers digging into his scalp and tugging his head back. With his neck exposed, the elder dipped his face to taste his neck, sucking slowly at first before adding the graze of his teeth to the mixture. Jeongguk released soft pants, choked breaths as Yoongi lapped at the marked skin—the golden glistening with a bit of moisture and blooming with prints he had left behind.

It was satisfying to see Jeongguk come undone underneath his fingertips. It seemed that, whatever Yoongi did, the younger would respond so promptly, so violently that it fueled this sudden, carnal desire within him. He memorized every little noise, every twitch of the boy’s fingers.

Before long, shirts were strewn across the floor, abandoned without a second glance. Yoongi’s pale fingers traced pretty circles on the boy’s abdomen, dancing gently along the surface to elicit shivers from the younger who caught the digits and nipped at them teasingly. “Didn’t know you really liked my abs, hyung,” he giggled.

Yoongi rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, “Cocky shit. You know you look good.”

“I do,” he beamed and then softened, “but it still feels good to hear it from you than anyone else.”

His words pricked at the elder’s supposedly colder heart, chipped away at the ice. Yoongi recognized the tone—that sound of adoration and admiration—and that was a dangerous tone for the game they are trying to play. And Yoongi made his next mistake by once again choosing to ignore the second glaring sign that this was wrong, that there was a better path.

“Hyung?” Jeongguk questioned, peering up at him with those pretty, bright eyes. Yoongi had written them—those pretty, bright eyes—into his lyrics, into one of his ballads that sounded much too soft to be included in his mixtape. It was the kind of song he would tuck away as a memory piece for a nostalgic day.

“Less talking, baby,” he grunted instead, touching their lips in the middle as his fingers fumbled with Jeongguk’s buckle.

Their pants soon joined other articles of clothing on the floor, leaving them bare in the coziness of the tiny studio. The only sounds bouncing off the soundproof walls were Jeongguk’s labored breaths and the shuffling of skin against the fabric of the couch. Yoongi kissed along his jaw—that pretty, sharp jaw—and down his neck, over the bruises, and down the column of his pretty throat. Everything about Jeongguk screamed perfection and that voice inside of Yoongi was in turn commanding him to take a piece of it, to have a taste of the crème de la crème.

And who was Yoongi to deny his inner voice? He bit and nibbled, loving the way the canvas of the younger’s body blossomed before him with his imprints. He made his way down, running his tongue along the lines of his toned body, dipping it into the dimples of his waist.

Yoongi licked his lips when he reached his final destination. Jeongguk’s length curved thick and proud against his stomach, a tantalizing sight from a tantalizing man. It would be a lie to say that his mouth didn’t water at the sight. Jeongguk exuded everything sex embodied in that very moment and Yoongi was a mere mortal falling into the temptations created by the hands of sin.

“Hyung, f-fuck, please,” he whimpered, fingers absentmindedly tangling in the elder’s silky locks to tug him closer. “Can you—would you—”

Never in his life had he seen Jeongguk so distraught. Even their first night together, the younger had been so composed, had left the other man instead a stuttering mess. But this time, the tables had turned and Yoongi was going to milk this as much as he could.

Grinning, he thumbed the slit of Jeongguk’s pulsing cock, “What do you want, Jeonggukie? Tell hyung what you want.”

“Hyung,” Jeongguk flushed again, pretty pink lips parting in a gasp as he jerked his hips up slightly to get any form of friction from the elder’s hand.

“You have to tell me, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi muttered and gave his length a quick squeeze, just enough to have him squirming uncomfortably.

“M’want—I just want your mouth—” Jeongguk’s breath hitched in his throat as Yoongi gave a tentative lick, tongue barely grazing the head. A long expletive left the other’s mouth and the elder chuckled. “Come on, hyung, you can’t do this to me. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts so much. Want your mouth—nothing else, p-please. I want your mouth on me, hyung.”

With every breathless, hiccuped plea, Jeongguk proved to only urge Yoongi to tease him even more. His fingers danced along the length, his fingertips brushing along the riverlike veins, and his mouth puffed out warm air against the already sensitive skin. His pale digits toyed with his cock and wrapped and tightened around it, stroking ever so lightly. “Keep begging, kid, maybe you’ll get there.”

“You’re so mean—hnnng,” Jeongguk whined, “s-so mean, after I rode you so well last time.”

Yoongi laughed, “Rode me once and think you’re hot shit already? That how you should be treating your elders?”

The younger pouted, eyes clouded over with misty lust. “You’re not that much older, Grandpa.”

“Keep that up and I’ll think you have a grandpa kink or somethin’,” he jokingly jeered.

“I can feel my boner dying at this very second,” Jeongguk noted with a pointed glare at both Yoongi and his pained dick.

His lips curved into an amused grin. The kid could be a brat after all. He supposed Jeongguk had always gotten what he wanted, always was some sort of superman with how well he did everything he did. Now that Yoongi had the ball in his court, it was almost hilarious how conflicted Jeongguk looked when he had to sacrifice his pride to beg for more from the elder. “We can’t have that now, can we?” Yoongi grinned, finally dipping his head and showing some mercy towards the younger.

He mouthed along the cock and the heat of his lips seemed to be more than enough to drive the younger right out of his mind. His tongue dragged along the length and swirled around the head. Jeongguk was throbbing, his entire body clenching and relaxing according to Yoongi’s gestures. His moans filled the empty room as he relished in the sensations of the other’s ministrations.

“Look at you all pretty for me, Jeonggukie,” he murmured, teeth scraping gently along his cock. “I’ve never seen a prettier baby than you. You’re such a good boy, aren’t you, hm? Do you like this? Do you like hyung’s mouth on you?”

The words that tumbled from the elder’s throat had Jeongguk’s blood rushing through his veins, heartbeat thundering in his ears as he could feel waves of pleasure and tension crashing over him. “Y-yes, love it so much, hyung. Your mouth—fuck, mmm, feels s’good—you’re so—ahh, oh—please, please. It feels so good, hyung.”

“Good, pretty baby,” Yoongi cooed, placing his cock back into his mouth and sucking it deep. He bobbed his head to take in as much as he could of Jeongguk’s thick length inside of him. The younger’s body was shuddering with thrill as he twisted his fingers harder into Yoongi’s hair.

Yoongi couldn’t help himself, loved the way Jeongguk kept pulling at his hair. His desperation was palpable and crackling through the air. He groaned into the cock in his mouth, vibrations immediately carrying through Jeongguk’s entire being. His fingers played with his balls, clasping them tightly, and covered what his mouth couldn’t.

There was something so satisfying about the weight of Jeongguk’s dick in his mouth. A satisfying feeling of fullness as he licked and lapped at the length. The cock glistened with moisture underneath the studio lights and Jeongguk looked so pretty, all frenzied and short of breath. He would look even prettier if he were spread—

“Hyung, want you,” Jeongguk moaned, this time his hands halting Yoongi’s movement and pulling him away. “God, I want you inside me. P-please, miss the feel of your cock filling me up.”

Yoongi licked his lips. Fuck, this kid really was something else. For once (or maybe the second time) in his life, Yoongi was going to voluntarily break one of his rules. At least this time he knew Jeongguk was definitely no longer a virgin. “What do you want, Jeongguk-ah? Did you say you missed me? You liked my cock that much?”

Jeongguk voiced his complaint as he, with trembling fingers, pushed himself up and around, flipping over so his ass was in full view for Yoongi. And what a fucking fantastic ass it was. The younger's hands splayed out across the cheeks and pulled them apart. His puckered hole was beckoning Yoongi closer, begging him to stick his tongue in it until Jeongguk was a writhing mess or shove his cock in there to fill him up.

“God, you’re fuckin’ pretty, kid,” Yoongi grunted, dancing his fingers lightly along the smooth skin of his cheeks. The other twitched in response, nudging himself backwards to encourage him. “S’cute, what do you want?”

“Y-your cock,” Jeongguk whined almost pitifully. Need leaked into his tone, his breathlessness a clear indication of his strong urge for more. “Please, hyung, want your cock in me. Want you to fuck me stupid,” he moaned, pushing himself back again to press his bare ass against Yoongi’s front.

The friction had Yoongi biting back a groan. Those plump mounds would look so pretty swallowing up his length. “Let me prep you first.”

“No need,” he gasped, “M’loose—loose enough anyway. Fucked myself earlier.”

“Earlier?”

Jeongguk was growing more restless by the second, and he certainly seemed far from accommodating to Yoongi’s inquisition. “T-the bathroom, lunchtime. Just needed to get off. Kept thinking of you in your studio—fuck, you look so hot.”

His confession would make a priest blush and Yoongi’s mouth watered at the thought of Jeongguk shoving himself up against the wall of a tiny bathroom stall in the office, fingers buried deep and curling inside of him until his knees buckled. God, what a fuckin’ concept.

“So naughty, Jeonggukie,” Yoongi breathed, hand pressing down to give his ass a good squeeze. “Do you do that a lot? Fuck yourself in the office?”

“Hnng, n-no, not really—maybe, I don’t know—God, I can’t think right now,” Jeongguk choked and squirmed in agitation.

“Should give you a toy to stuff your ass next time, keep that in the entire day hm,” the elder was musing aloud, thinking about how a fantastic idea that would be. That seemed to only add fuel to the fire as Jeongguk released a deep, throaty sound to signal his pleasure.

Jeongguk whimpered, “Y-yeah, that would be good. Want a cock shoved up in me—maybe a dildo. Got a nice one at home.” He was rambling at that point and Yoongi took that opportunity to roll on a condom and slick it up with lube. Despite his distracted state with his wild imagination, Jeongguk’s words died in his throat the second the sloppy sounds of Yoongi stroking his wet cock resonated in the room. “Shit, oh my—fuck, hyung, please. I want you now. Want you to fuck me hard.”

Yoongi himself couldn’t wait any longer and wrapped a hand around his member to guide it towards Jeongguk’s hole. He traced the tip along the rim again and again, grazing over it teasingly. It was driving the younger insane because all he wanted was to be stuffed full of cock, craved that satisfying feeling of being completely and utterly fucked.

“Alright, you ready, Guk?”

The younger tossed a glare over his shoulder. “I’ve been ready for two hours now.”

“Sure it’s not the entire day? Heard someone fucked themselves in a public bathroom earlier.”

“Ha, you’re hilarious—” The drawl was dropped the second Yoongi squeezed himself into the tight tunnel. Jeongguk let out a long groan as his cock twitched in front of him. He could feel his entire body tensing to the familiar sensation of being filled up. “Fuck,” he moaned, “feels s’good. Shit, hyung, so good. Fuck me, please please please.”

Yoongi nodded and eased himself in and out slowly, almost torturously. He was doing his best to avoid hurting the boy but the pace he was setting seemed to only pain Jeongguk more. The man was pushing himself back to meet Yoongi’s tormenting rhythm.

“Goddamn, hyung, fuck me faster. I can’t feel shit right now,” Jeongguk protested childishly, his words complemented by a deep pout.

He almost forgot how bratty Jeongguk could be. This was why, that first time, he couldn’t believe that Jeongguk was a virgin. He seemed to know how to egg the elder on, how to provoke him to do his worst, which was exactly what he wanted. Yoongi did as he was asked and snapped his hips forward—hard. The entirety of his cock slipped inside the hole and, considering he wasn’t particularly big, was able to hit him balls deep.

“Shit, fuck, right there,” the man underneath him hiccuped, grinding his ass back against Yoongi. “Just like that. Harder. Faster.”

Yoongi followed suit and swung forward again. He pulled out his cock halfway, enough to have Jeongguk feeling empty and pissed when Yoongi stayed that way for far too long. Just as the younger was about to let another complain spill, Yoongi thrust back into him deep and started fucking into him at a speed that rendered the boy senseless. He was trembling all over, muscles tensing and relaxing in alternating motions.

The usual silence in the studio was quickly replaced by the sound of the younger’s pleasured voice and the sound of skin against skin. There was something hypnotizing and sexy about fucking in an empty studio, about knowing how he had colleagues and, if any of them were to work overtime, might be fortunate enough to catch them red-handed. Or, in Jeongguk’s case, bent over and fucked by the mysterious and private part-time producer, Min Yoongi.

“R-right there—oh man, fuck yes—aaah,” Jeongguk whined, squeezing his eyes shut as he let his entire body be consumed by the sheer wonder of Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi was enjoying himself as well, fucking into the boy and relishing Jeongguk’s sounds—a clear telltale that his body and sensations were bathing in gratification. “G-god, you’re so good at this. Fuckin’ me so good, hyung. Such a great cock, missed it a lot,” he grinned over his shoulder.

What a sight the kid was. Ass full of cock, hair matted against his forehead, and that gorgeous, confident smirk spread across his face. He was the personification of lust in that very moment and Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to argue otherwise considering he was taking pleasure in the very definition of sex in human form.

“You touching yourself, Guk?” Yoongi asked, chest heaving.

“N-no, do you want me to?” He sounded so small. Fuck, that was hot. Being shorter in stature himself, Yoongi thrived on the ability to make others bigger than him feel much smaller than him. It was a kink, sure. It was a particular kink when it came to Jeongguk who was fit and ripped and whose presence screamed loud.

“Do it, stroke yourself, baby,” he cooed, sliding in and out faster and harder. The corresponding noises were lewd and messy, just the way Yoongi liked it. The lube made it much too easy for him to fuck into Jeongguk, liquid dribbling down the boy’s thighs every time Yoongi pushed inside him.

Jeongguk was obedient, doing as he was told and reaching his hand down to touch himself. His cock was rock hard and pulsing painfully. He nearly cried with relief and hurt when he began to run his fingers along the tough length. “F-fuck, feels so good—goddammit,” he cursed.

Every time Yoongi pushed forward, Jeongguk would lurch along with the motion and fuck into his own hand. Each stroke of friction sent liquid fire shooting through his veins, the heat spreading quickly throughout his body.

In spite of his lack of experience with Jeongguk, the way the man was trembling was an indicator that he was close. So close. The stuttered breaths and expletives leaving his mouth were also more than enough to indicate the same. “Shit, shit, fuck—so good, gonna—oh fuck, waited so long for this. Hyung’s cock—fuck, so good. Wanna come, wanna fuckin’ come all over so badly. Please.”

“That so, Jeonggukie? You wanna be a messy baby?” Yoongi goaded, grinning to himself proudly when the younger shuddered with his words. “You like being made a mess, huh? Like being a little slut getting fucked open in a studio like this. Do you like being messy, baby?”

“Mmm, yes, hyung, l-love it. I wanna be a mess just for you—your mess,” Jeongguk hummed, ass fucking back so Yoongi would be pushing into him harder.

“You going to come all over yourself, baby? Are you going to come for hyung?”

Jeongguk nodded eagerly, his entire body shaking, “Y-yes, please please, can I, hyung? Can I come please?”

“Think you’ve been a good boy for me, baby?”

“Yes, yes! I’ve been so good, hyungie. Been so good to you,” Jeongguk pleaded desperately, voice growing more frantic. His words were slurring together and his tone begging.

“You’ve been so messy though, I don’t know if I like messy—”

“I’ll clean up! Please, I’ll be clean. I’ll clean up from now on.” At this point, the younger was saying anything to gain his orgasm. His hand was still tugging on his cock. The tip was throbbing, red coloring almost blue. He needed the release and Yoongi wasn’t as heartless as he himself believed.

With a feigned deep sigh, one that had Jeongguk’s stomach falling, Yoongi pursed his lips. “I mean—”

The forced disappointment in his tone was enough to have the younger pleading again. “P-please, hyung. Oh fuck, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll be so good to you, I promise. Just want your cock, nothing else. Make me your messy baby. I’ll be messy, I’ll be clean, whatever you want.”

There was a niggling feeling nagging at the back of Yoongi’s mind that Jeongguk’s words were treading on dangerous waters, one involving attachment that Yoongi wasn’t sure he wanted to venture into just yet. So he let the boy have exactly what he needed. “Okay, Jeonggukie, you can come. Go on, come for me. Show me how much you have inside of you, how messy you can be.”

Jeongguk’s lips part with his words, breath knotting in his throat as he allowed himself to let go. As Yoongi continued to jerk his hips into him, Jeongguk reached that sweet peak and spilled into his hand. White, sticky come coated his fingers quickly, dripping onto the couch and staining it with ivory. He was messy for sure and Yoongi would be lying if he said that didn’t turn him on.

He could feel his own climax chasing after him, clawing at his skin and begging to be released. “Fuck, t-that’s hot,” Yoongi groaned, “M’gonna come soon.”

The younger, ever breathless, was still tingling from his orgasm and quaking from the force of it, paused Yoongi’s movement. “W-wait, want you to come on my face. Please. Want your come on my face.”

Goddammit.

Yoongi was going to fucking burst with his words alone. He wasn’t a teenager but his limits seemed to have been tested with Jeongguk. “You sure? Your face?”

“Y-yeah,” Jeongguk breathed, quickly scrambling to lie on his back. He gestured for Yoongi to climb on top of him and the other did so, throwing his legs on either side of the man and hovered his cock over Jeongguk’s face.

As if to make things worse (or better), Jeongguk let his eyes slide shut as his jaw fell to pop his mouth open. His tongue stuck out, waiting patiently for the sweet nectar building up inside of Yoongi. “Fuck,” he groaned, yanking on his cock faster and squeezing harder, “you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this. Your ass is pretty, your face is pretty. Would look even prettier covered in my come.”

Jeongguk murmured his agreement and kept his mouth open, tongue hanging out and anticipating. It certainly didn’t take him very long to spiral down into temptation. His come soon streaked across Jeongguk’s face, splattering abstract lines across the boy’s beautiful face like a blank canvas painted over in a masterpiece. Jeongguk kept his mouth open, Yoongi’s come landing sweetly on his tastebuds. The white garnished the boy’s face prettily. The sight only impelled Yoongi on even more and he milked his cock as much as he could to get all of his pleasure out and onto the boy’s features.

It truly was something else to see Jeongguk when he was completely sober and coming down from his high. His beauty was unrivaled and Yoongi couldn’t deny how fucking gorgeous he looked with Yoongi’s come all over his face. Jeongguk closed his mouth and swallowed the liquid that had ended up on his tongue, throat moving with the action.

God, he was fucking beautiful.

However, the guilt for making a whole mess took over quickly and he reached for tissues to offer the younger. Jeongguk took it with a nearly inaudible thanks and began to wipe himself down. Yoongi, unsure of what to do, leaned back against the couch in full, naked glory. There was no denying how satisfied he was, the adrenaline dissipating from his veins as fast as it came.

Jeongguk was next to him, drying himself up and removing the mess from his face.

The silence that ensued was deafening. It was as if a contraption had taken hold of the air and squeezed all the oxygen out of it. Gone was the intensity of the atmosphere, leaving an awkward aftertaste. Yoongi cleared his throat, Jeongguk didn’t look like he was breathing. The two sat side by side and Yoongi couldn’t think of a time more awkward than this, not even the time he caught his roommate jerking to Elton John in tears.

Yoongi licked his lips and made the first move, reaching for his crumpled shirt on the floor to slip it on. Jeongguk fumbled to do the same, fingers seeming to tremble with the force of nature. The two got dressed in the utter quietness, neither one of them saying a word to ease the tension weighing heavy in the room.

As the elder shifted over to clean up his music notes and tidy up his studio, Jeongguk took note and packed up his work, shoving everything into his backpack distractedly.

“So, you heading back?” Yoongi coughed, prompting the younger to jerk up and whirl around. He swung around so fast, the elder worried that he might’ve gotten whiplash.

Jeongguk pinked, gaze finding the mirror and trailing down his neck where Yoongi had left his mark. His eyes danced with something akin to hunger. His glance flicked back up to meet Yoongi’s. Instead of addressing how Yoongi had basically mauled the other man over, Jeongguk only cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

“Cool—” Cool? That’s the best you could do, Min? “Let’s walk over to the station then.” Even if Yoongi hated painstakingly awkward situations, the last thing he wanted was for Jeongguk to risk his life at ass o’clock because he got some dick from a fool like him.

There was a pause in which Jeongguk tilted his head, eyes widening ever so slightly, as a small smile painted itself on his face. “Okay,” he spoke softly, voice quiet in the thundering of Yoongi’s heartbeat.

The walk to the station felt longer than it usually did. The space between them growing by the second. Jeongguk’s long legs took him a step further than Yoongi each time, but he always slowed down and adjusted according to how Yoongi moved. They fell into step together and, although Yoongi appreciated the gesture, appreciated Jeongguk, there was a strange bubbling in his stomach that had the hairs on his skin rising.

He had a good time with Jeongguk, sure. But what about the aftermath? This wasn’t supposed to happen again. He already had his qualms with the idea of fucking Jeongguk the first time around, and he was foolish enough to do it a second time. Instead of resolving whatever past issues he had with Jeongguk and his emotions, he ended up caught in a tighter struggle in these tangling vines. Instead of finding answers, he was left with more questions and doubts that had his stomach churning uncomfortably.

Yoongi was a man of certainty. He was certain of his aspirations, certain of his preferences, but Jeongguk had stained a grey area in his black and white.

“Well, this is me,” Jeongguk stated slowly as his train arrived at the platform. Yoongi looked up, pressing his lips together and glancing at the moving machine to avoid Jeongguk’s eyes.

“Get home safe, Jeongguk,” he breathed finally just as the doors opened.

When he finally met the younger’s eyes, it seemed as if he had more to say. His eyes had always been so big and expressive—windows to the soul as people say. However, after a moment of searching Yoongi’s, he managed a small smile, shaking his head to himself with thoughts Yoongi wasn’t privy to. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hyung.”

With one last salute, he was climbing aboard with the doors closing behind him. Yoongi was left in the sudden silence, the rattling of the rails absent to grant room for his pervasive anxiousness.

He didn’t quite know what to do. But one thing was for sure—he was screwed.

The thing with Yoongi was that he never reacted well to news that rocked his boat. His nerves had the tendency of leaping from one end to another, zapping and frying his entire brain and rational thinking.

This time was no different. The entire ride home, through the loud, metallic screeching of the tracks, and as even as he made his way up to his apartment and lied down on his bed, the image of Jeongguk’s face—all of them, a series of images—flashed through his mind. The boy’s expressions morphing from one emotion to the next—the happiness shining through his hazel eyes, his desire reflected in the parting of his lips and the creases of his temple, and what seemed to be understanding painted on the softness of the curl of his lips.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how he could possibly face him and pretend as if everything could go back to normal again. He had painted his face in come, had let filthy words tumble from his lips, had let his pale fingers bruise the younger’s skin, and had stuffed his cock inside of him.

Twice.

There were a lot of things that Yoongi failed to not regret in life, this was just another strike on the list.

Returning to work on lack of sleep was something he was used to. However, returning to work on lack of sleep and with the most excruciatingly conflicting emotions plaguing his every thought was the worst. Even the blackest of coffees could not save him from this misery.

As if to make matters worse, the second he stepped into the studio, he spotted Jeongguk coming down the hallway with a pile of files stacked up to the top of his head. Yoongi did what he did best—run. He quickly slipped into another room and waited until he heard Jeongguk’s footsteps walk past and fade away.

“What a coincidence to see you here.” The voice that chirped from his side had him jerking back to reality, heart rate picking up in panic. Yoongi whirled around to see Hoseok smirking at him. “Missed me that much?”

“You’re hilarious,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, creaking the door open again to glimpse into the hallway.

Hoseok leaned against the soundboard, tilting his head curiously. Having been so caught up with his work and with Jeongguk, Yoongi hadn’t really had the time to spare for a few of his friends—or ex-hookups, namely Jung Hoseok. The two had met in college, ended up in the same company for an internship and, well, had previously fucked. Once—or maybe thrice. This was before they landed the same jobs and Yoongi had to cut off the hooking up because work took over his life. Hoseok had taken it in stride has he did a lot of things. It wasn’t as if he was at a shortage of men lining up to please him.

Though, even Hoseok wouldn’t be able to deny that Yoongi held a soft spot in his heart. And his pants.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, why do you look like you’re hiding?” Hoseok asked, curiosity piqued before Yoongi could mask his expression with disinterest.

The elder of the two cleared his throat, “Just, you know, the boss.”

“Boss is out for the week, you know this. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi pinched his lips, “anyway, I should get going—”

“You know,” Hoseok started, halting Yoongi’s steps, “if you wanted to see me so badly, you should’ve just asked. You have my number, Yoongi.”

The other man snapped a glare his way. “That is not why I came in here.”

“So why did you?”

“Just—” How did he manage to dig this deep of a hole himself? “—wanted to check out the equipment, I heard you got some new stuff from tech.”

“Nothing you don’t have, Mr. Perfectionist. Your setup is complete and flawless. Do you wanna keep lying so I can keep prying?” Hoseok grinned, knowing full well that he had won this battle. “Or—” he tapped his lip thoughtfully, drawing Yoongi’s gaze to the pretty pink “—did you want to see me for something else?”

Yoongi’s muddled brain took some time to process the statement and it must’ve given Hoseok the wrong idea as he stepped closer and closer until he had Yoongi caged against the wall. “W-wait, what are you doing?”

“You have my number, hyung,” Hoseok beamed again, that blinding, charming smile dancing mischievously on his face.

“Christ, you’re unbelievable,” Yoongi huffed and the other man only laughed as he took a step back. “I’m leaving now. Don’t try anything else.”

“My doors and pants are always open for you, hyung,” he sang just before the door slammed in his face. Yoongi already had one mess to deal with, he most definitely did not need another to add into the equation.

Avoiding Jeongguk throughout the day turned out to be more troublesome than he thought. He didn’t realize how much he saw the boy around the workplace until he actively tried not to. When he locked himself up in the studio, he couldn’t help but be grateful that he had a ‘do not disturb’ function on his door that kept outsiders away. Including Jeongguk.

(Yoongi was pretty bummed that he didn’t get to hear Jeongguk’s pleasant “good morning, hyung” with that crinkly-eyed, teethy smile—but he would take this to the grave)

When work time was over, Yoongi usually escaped with either:

leaving before the sun even set and taking his work home (not preferred as he hated leaving with unfinished tasks)

pretending that he couldn’t hear the light knocking on the door or the pacing which was sure to be Jeongguk outside his room (this was miserable but easier)

Over the course of the week, he tried all sorts of avoidance tactics. He wasn’t quite sure why—that was a lie, he knew precisely why. Yoongi didn’t think he was ready to face the consequences of his actions, including Jeongguk—sweet, sweet Jeongguk who had been nothing but kind to him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like the kid. Of course, he liked him to a certain degree. Yoongi just wasn’t sure how he felt about this entire thing and he would rather postpone The Talk for as long as possible rather than dealing with it.

Don’t try this at home, kids.

Eventually, these things came back to bite him in the ass. And in fact, it did. See, Yoongi tried his best to live life the way he wanted—to the fullest, or as full as he could get. But this mistake might have saved him weeks of effort and suffering in which he realized he was a complete and utter fool.

Yoongi hadn’t noticed the beep of his door, heavily engrossed in tuning the demo he was working on. His hands moved across the dials and shifts on his setup, his ears covered by the headphones and the music dancing in his mind—

“What’s up, Yoongs?”

A curse left his mouth as he accidentally twisted one of the dials too far. Yanking off his headphones and turning around, Yoongi pinned the devil himself with a glare.

“Oh, scary,” Hoseok only laughed, unfazed. He had gotten used to being on the receiving end of that look whenever he disrupted Yoongi’s work, not that it made him do it any less. “I feel like you haven’t left this studio for days now.”

“Did you switch on the do not disturb function again?” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow and cracking his neck. He had been in his studio for quite some time, but it was nothing new. Hoseok just wanted an excuse to pop by, which reminded him— “I really should get that lock password changed.”

Two people knew his passcode — one was Hoseok (a Mistake) and the other was Jeongguk whom he gave this privilege just because he came around so much, Yoongi couldn’t be bothered to open the door for him any longer.

Hoseok pouted, “Why? You don’t want me coming in here unannounced?”

“No.”

“Cold,” he chuckled, giving a little feigned shiver for good measure. “You look tired, you should get some rest.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the younger who was smiling much too brightly, flushed too deeply. “And you’re drunk, you should go home.”

“I’m not drunk,” Hoseok rolled his eyes, swaying a little as he stepped closer to Yoongi, “just a little tipsy. Not drunk. Tipsy.” He enunciated the last word very slowly, which gave away that he was, in fact, drunk.

“Seok-ah—”

Hoseok pulled Yoongi up and seated him against the board, trapping him in and catching Yoongi before he could run. He hummed and nuzzled his nose against Yoongi’s before moving down to bury his face in his neck. Inhaling deeply, Hoseok’s breath tickled Yoongi’s skin and—wow, it had been so long. Although Hoseok may be the complete antithesis of Yoongi, their physical chemistry had been undeniable.

“Fuck,” the younger groaned, “missed you a lot, hyung. Haven’t had cock like yours in so long.”

No, no. Yoongi could feel himself getting heated and that definitely wasn’t what he wanted when Hoseok was like this—nor did he really want Hoseok. He knew this was his dick talking, but his dick was talking very loudly. “Alright, Seok, time to go home.”

“Just a little bit—please,” Hoseok begged, eyes blown up in such a way that made Yoongi both pissed and soft. “Just a little kiss,” he stuck out his bottom lip adorably.

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

Instead of whining more, Hoseok huffed and rolled his eyes before crashing his lips down against the elder. His mouth moved fast, lips sucking in Yoongi’s as his tongue slipped in between. Yoongi’s knees faltered in surprise, his hands latching onto the younger’s arms for support. Hoseok must’ve taken that as encouragement because his hands slipped down to cup the other’s bottom as he drew him closer, pressing his noticeable boner against him.

Yoongi, as any other human would do with someone like Hoseok, reacted almost unconsciously. He moved his lips against Hoseok mindlessly, enjoying the softness of his lips. Hoseok tasted familiar with a tinge of alcohol.

But, for the first time, there was a feeling pulling at his gut that raised red flags. Something about this was just… wrong.

He didn’t know how long they stood there with their lips glued together, Yoongi trying his best to calm the sudden shaking of his nerves and Hoseok relishing the other man’s company. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes that he realized the light streaming in from outside his studio.

Because his door was open.

And Jeongguk was standing right there.

Yoongi should’ve known better that his carelessness and indecision would get to him someday. And that day happened to be it. Before he could even blink a second time to really process that the guy he had just slept with, the guy who made Yoongi’s studio a little warmer, a little brighter, and his heart a little lighter and heavier all the same, had seen him kissing another man, Jeongguk was gone.

The door closed with a resounding click that echoed much too loud in the small room. Suddenly, his studio felt suffocating, the space seemed to engulf him.

“Hoseok, get off,” he muttered as he shoved the other man off.

Hoseok looked at him in a daze, confusion evident in his expression. “S-sorry, shit, I really thought you were into it.”

Yoongi did too. Yoongi wished he was — or maybe he didn’t. Because this spoke volumes of what Yoongi was feeling — whatever it was that he couldn’t quite comprehend. But Jeongguk. It said a thousand words about how he felt about Jeongguk. Attached, affection.

And he had messed it all up.

Even then, Yoongi’s feet couldn’t bring him to move and he perhaps had let Jeongguk turn into another one that got away.

After his brief epiphany and after Hoseok left him to have yet another existential crisis, Yoongi resolved that he should at least talk to the boy or give him some time of day. Communication is key as everyone says. Maybe it’s time to start listening to the masses.

So, for once, Yoongi swallowed his pride — and it was difficult to take down — and walked up to Jeongguk’s cubicle. The interns worked in little boxes separated from the higher ups in the company. While Yoongi had been promoted enough to be granted his own studio, Jeongguk was still left to be cramped into a tiny square. This was probably why he enjoyed being in Yoongi’s space so much.

He peeked around the nonexistent door, seeing Jeongguk hunched over his laptop. Licking his lips, Yoongi braved himself. “Jeongguk,” he started.

The other whipped around so fast it seemed as if he was about to crack his bones. “Hyung.” His voice was barely a breath and his eyes — fuck, his eyes — looked absolutely pained. That wasn’t a look he ever wanted to see on anyone, especially not Jeongguk. His heart ached at the sight and knowing he had been the cause of it had guilt eating him inside out.

“Do you want to, um, maybe grab lunch with me?”

Jeongguk’s eyes flashed with another glint of pain. He glanced away for a second before turning back to his computer. “It’s fine, I’m sort of busy.”

“Guk-ah—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine,” Jeongguk said, his back still facing Yoongi.

He didn’t like it. It was strange facing Jeongguk’s back. They’ve always stood side by side or face to face. Even when Yoongi wasn’t looking at him, Jeongguk was usually facing his back. He had never been on the other side of it, had never realized how shitty it felt, and he wondered how Jeongguk had put up with it for so long.

“You’re obviously upset, look I—” Yoongi stepped inside the room, drawing closer to him.

The younger visibly stiffened at the sound of his footfall. “Stop.” Yoongi did. “Don’t come closer. Please.”

Yoongi wanted to reach out, wanted to touch him again. He thought back to the winter night when Jeongguk held his hand, his giggle ringing clear in the brisk air, and how his warmth had radiated against Yoongi’s cool skin.

“I get it,” Jeongguk began this time, “we were just dicking around. Please just go, I just—I don’t want you to see me like this. Okay?”

Not okay. Yoongi wanted to argue and push Jeongguk to talk, to scream at him, to just look at him. But he couldn’t be selfish — not when he has been so countless times to Jeongguk.

“I—alright, take care, Guk. Don’t forget to eat lunch, yeah?”

The other man didn’t respond and instead their silence is filled by the light tapping of Jeongguk’s fingers on his keyboard. He still hadn’t turned around and Yoongi left quietly with his heart in his throat.

Yoongi hadn’t realized before, had been so caught up in avoiding his feelings and processing them, how different things were without Jeongguk around. He hadn’t noticed how much time Jeongguk spent lounging around in his studio or doing work, how many times he greeted him in the hallways and dropped silly jokes that had him hiding his smile. The absence was almost tangible. The weight of his disappearance was a sudden burden upon his shoulders.

And thus, it was clear what would transpire. Yoongi’s moods deflated almost instantly. He was bitter and snappy, scaring away anyone who dared ring the door to his room. And it wasn’t as if he was trying to hide it — in fact, he made great attempts to show it.

“Jesus, can you stop the sulking?” Namjoon frowned, hitting him in the face with a carrot stick. As if Jeongguk ignoring him wasn’t bad enough, Namjoon was on a healthy binge and that meant that their fridge was cleansed of all fast food and ice cream — everything Yoongi needed to properly sulk.

“I’m not,” he pouted.

“Okay, what happened?”

Yoongi gave him a face that said everything. “Nothing.”

His roommate rolled his eyes, “Alright, let’s not play dumb here. Just tell me. Hit me with it. Did you fuck up with something?”

Yoongi’s frown deepened.

“Let me guess, you fucked that devirginized slash intern guy again.”

Yoongi dropped his head onto the table.

“Oh lord,” Namjoon huffed, turning around to reach to the top shelf behind him where he pulled out a bag of chips. “Tell daddy all about it.”

“The fuck, you have chips? What happened to your diet?”

“The fact that you responded to that and not my calling myself daddy means this is bad. Now come on, talk to me.” Namjoon paused, “Also, I have cheat days, cut me some slack.”

So he did. He told him everything, rambling on about how adorable and sweet Jeongguk was, how he shat sunshine out of his ass, and how he had fucked the kid again and started ignoring him and then the whole Hoseok mess.

“Let me get this straight, you fucked him, then you ignored him, then he walked in on you attempting to fuck someone else—”

“I was not attempting to fuck Hoseok!”

“Well, that wasn’t what it looked like to him, was it?” He had a point. “Then he started ignoring you.”

Yoongi sighed, “Basically.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything for a long while and, when the elder looked up, Namjoon was frowning and glaring at him so hard, it looked as if his face was about to burst.

“What?”

“You’re kidding me right? You’re sulking because of this when the answer is so simple?”

Yoongi threw a withering look his way, “Not everyone’s a genius like you.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that all you need to do is talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Namjoon licked his lips, looking up to the heavens as if to ask why the gods were testing his patience. “You tried once. Once. The kid likes you a lot, why not use that to your advantage? The worst he could do is say no, but what have you got to lose?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi muttered.  

“Why don’t you talk to him again? And maybe, I don’t know, ask him out properly. Take him out for milkshakes or a handjob at the movies.”

The elder moaned, rolling his forehead on the countertop. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up. I don’t even know how I feel, how am I going to deal with this?”

Namjoon smiled softly, patting his friend, “He seems like a good kid, he’ll listen.”

Guess it was finally time to get his balls back.

The following day, by the time lunchtime rolled around, Yoongi was sweating bullets. He finally gathered up the courage to pop by Jeongguk’s cubicle again, speech ready in mind. Straight to the point. Apologize and explain, then maybe ask him out depending on how he reacts to the apology. Perfect.

Except, he walked into the cubicle to see Taehyung, another intern, sitting on Jeongguk’s lap and giggling. Jeongguk was scowling affectionately, amusement dancing in his eyes, as he struggled to get Taehyung off him. However, when Taehyung’s eyes wandered to the door and widened in surprise, Jeongguk realized that they weren’t alone. He turned to find Yoongi standing there slack-jawed, the words on the tip of his tongue fizzling into the thick air.

“H-hyung!” he quickly shoved his friend off, Taehyung stumbling to his feet and glaring. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi eyed them cautiously. Were they a thing? Should he be here? Should he stay after this? Maybe they were—stop. Talking to him was important. No more miscommunication. “I… wanted to talk,” he said slowly.

It was clear that the conversation was not about to be a light one. The two glanced at Taehyung awkwardly and Taehyung stared at them awkwardly before understanding dawned upon him. Grinning, he skipped out of the room with a “good luck.”

He wasn’t sure if he was referring to Yoongi or Jeongguk.

Jeongguk shifted awkwardly in his seat, trapping his hands between his thighs (don’t think about his thighs, don’t do it, Yoongi) and peering up at him from his seat. “What’s up?”

“Do you have time after work? I’ll buy you a drink.”

Hurt flickered in the younger’s eyes. God, Yoongi was already fucking this up and he wasn’t even sure how. Jeongguk breathed shakily, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His heart stopped. Yoongi couldn’t breathe. “Or, dinner,” he scrambled, “I can buy you dinner. Lamb skewers from the cart outside? Or proper dinner, I can do too.”

“Hyung,” Jeongguk murmured.

“I really want to talk to you, Guk-ah,” Yoongi emphasized, stepping inside the room and closer to the boy.

He looked conflicted for a moment, eyes darting around the room as if he was weighing out his options. Yoongi prayed to the higher powers that things would go his way—just this once. This one time he had courage. “Alright,” Jeongguk agreed, “I’m staying a bit late though to finish something for the big boss.”

“Yeah, s’fine,” Yoongi said much too quickly, tongue tripping over his words, “I’ll wait for you.”

Jeongguk softened and nodded, “Okay, see you later.”

By the time Jeongguk finished and knocked on his door, the sun had already set and the clock had just hit nine. They bundled up in thick coats before moving outside. It was a little chilly for a spring day and Yoongi almost instantly reddened from the cold. Jeongguk giggled at the sight of Yoongi’s glowing, rosy nose.

Yoongi’s heart hurt because he loved that sound so much and didn’t know how much he missed it until that moment.

They ended up settling for a barbecue restaurant two blocks away from the studio. Thankfully, the atmosphere wasn’t too heavy with the noises all around them. Even this late at night, the restaurant was still packed with patrons. From the clanking of metallic utensils to the sizzling of meat on each grill, the place was alive.

As Yoongi worked on flipping each piece of meat, Jeongguk fidgeted uncomfortably across from him. It was only after the two had a little food inside them that Yoongi began. “Listen, I fucked up.”

Jeongguk winced, “No, no you didn’t. You never promised anything more and that’s okay. I’m a kid after all.” He laughed, voice strained. “I wasn’t sure what was going on—I mean, you know, we did it again. So I thought—hey, maybe there’s something more here. But that was all on me, you never led me on or anything, but I took it that way. Thought when you were avoiding me you just needed more time, but should’ve known better. It’s my fault for taking advantage of you.”

The elder’s brows puckered in confusion, “Why are you apologizing? I’m the asshole here, I’m supposed to be saying sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jeongguk insisted.

“No, I was stupid,” Yoongi grimaced, taking a deep breath. “When I first met you, I thought you were incredible. You were this shy, vibrant kid who had a lot of passion for music and I liked that. I dug that a lot. Then we slept together and I thought you were still pretty cool and, just, I was scared. The last virgin I slept with ended up getting emotionally attached to me and—yeah, let’s just say it wasn’t a fun time. So I thought the same thing was going to happen with you.

“But you’re different, Jeongguk. It sounds cliché and stupid, but you are. You’re sincere and you’ve always been the more mature one out of the two of us. I was terrified of this whole thing mainly because I don’t really have experience with it, and the whole feelings thing—” he groaned, Jeongguk chuckled “—I’m—it’s not that I don’t feel things, I just don’t really know how to handle it when it comes like a bitchslap to the face.”

Jeongguk simpered quietly, “You’re saying your feelings about me slapped you in the face?”

“Felt like it, yeah. That whole lightbulb moment.”

“So, what you’re trying to say is, you were scared I would get attached because I, as you believed, was a virgin before I met you, and I did end up getting attached but not because of that, but now you’re attached too?”

Well, when he put it that way, it sounded so simple. “I guess—no, I mean, yeah. That’s exactly it.”

“So you like me?”

“Um, yes,” Yoongi squinted, unsure if it were a trick question.

“Like, like like me?”

Yoongi pulled a face. “Dude, we’re not five. Yes, I like you—in a way that I want to take you out to dinner and then have you for dessert in my bed.”

“God, yes,” Jeongguk groaned. Don’t get hard, Yoongi. “I want that. I mean, you’re bad at emotions or whatever but we’ll figure this out. Don’t worry. We’ll do it together.”

“Wait, so you do want me? Like you really want me?”

“How is this different from me asking if you like like me?”

The elder huffed, “I’m just being careful.”

“You’re cute.”

Yoongi tinged a deep pink. “Thanks?”

“Also, I wasn’t a virgin.”

He blinked.

“I don’t know what made you think that but I wasn’t.”

“Wait, but you—thanked me? After the sex?”

Jeongguk shrugged, a ghost of a smile still dancing on his lips. “It’s just a thank you for a good time. Common courtesy, you know.”

Yoongi was going to kill Namjoon. How was he always right?

“Fuck, you’re too cute,” the elder huffed fondly.

It was Jeongguk’s turn to blush. “Thanks, glad you think so.”

“So, uh, any plans after this?”

“You trying to offer to take me home?”

“Maybe.”

“To fuck?”

“It’s a school night, you’ve got classes tomorrow so no.”

Jeongguk pouted, “But it’s just sex.”

“Don’t you kids have a curfew?”

“Dude.”

To tie up this cheesy, little tale, Yoongi had to admit that he was an absolute fool for the entirety of his start with Jeongguk. The kid was sweet and a hard-worker. He was everything Yoongi liked in a person and more.

They took turns sleeping at each other’s places, sometimes ending up in the studio to cuddle whenever Jeongguk finished a tough exam or Yoongi winded down from working on a track too long. They would fuck each other one day, and snuggle another.

A year later, they’re working on getting their own apartment. With Yoongi working more hours, he picked up a place closer to the studio and—well, he had invited Jeongguk to stay with him if he’d like. Jeongguk didn’t even blink once before he jumped on the offer. Living together meant sharing chores and Yoongi liked the domesticity, liked that he vacuumed and scrubbed the dishes while Jeongguk did laundry and rinsed the plates.

Jeongguk was thoughtful and, turned out, he really did always thank Yoongi and curl up into his boyfriend (Jeongguk cried every time Yoongi called him that) after they slept together (he didn’t like to admit it but Jeongguk loved being the little spoon). When Yoongi made dinner as best he could, Jeongguk would reward him with a blowjob or a cuddling session—both equally as wonderful that Namjoon would gag to either one.

Yoongi didn’t think this was where his life would go, especially not with this entire mess, but for now, he was just grateful that he got his happy ending.

[balorclubrps]

Another Drink Fergal + Pam Novemeber 2nd, 2017 Marshall House Hotel

Another night, another lost count as to how many shots she threw back. Pam was miserable and it didn't take a psychic to see it. As she walked down the street after leaving the now far too crowded bar she had been in just minutes ago, she thought of all the stupid things she's said and done and knew there was no way to take any of it back. She could try, but the damage had been done and most of the damage was done to herself. "Fucking idiot." The brunette grumbled to herself as she entered the lobby of the hotel she had been staying at the last few days. She was thankful that most people had left. No longer did she have to share a room and she couldn't think of anything else she had been more thankful for. She stood outside of the bar, looking at the bartender as she wondered if she should have one last drink before attempting to make her way to her room. A single voice pulled her from her thoughts as she looked at the man sitting alone at the bar. "Fuck.." Pam frowned as her heart sank into her stomach, butterflies immediately threatening to cause the woman to be sick. "Don't..Just go to bed." She whispered to herself before taking the few steps it took to enter the bar. In silence, she approached the bar and sat beside him. "Fancy meeting you here." She chuckled through slurred words. "De ja vu." The bartender set a drink on the bar for Fergal and looked at Pam. She sat looking at Fergal for a moment before looking back at the bartender, licking her lips. "Oh! Ha. Ummmm. The absolutely most strongest thing you have, Please. I aim to forget." She forced a smile before turning her head to look back at Fergal as the bartender went to make her drink.

Fergal's past few days had turned from gold to utter shit. Learning everything he had over Halloween had basically ruined the holiday for him, and he was doing his best to just shove it all behind him. Of course, it didn't work. He was a fairly emotional person underneath his hard looking exterior, so when things hurt him, they cut him to the bone. Which is how he managed to find himself at the hotel bar tonight. He knew he should have been in his room with his girlfriend, as she'd just spent hours and hours locked away from him due to some weird security glitch with the hotel, but yet... he wasn't there. He had ordered himself a strong whiskey drink, opting away from beer for a change, when he noticed Pam in his peripheral. Fuck. He glanced over, his expression sullen and dark. "Yeah," He mumbled in response, putting his glass to his lips and taking a large swallow as her own drink was made. "You're drunk already, do you actually need that?" He asked her, raising an eyebrow as the drink was set on the counter for her. "Just put that with mine," He told the bartender, not caring what kind of money he spent that night.

"Haven't forgotten." Pam managed to get the words out after spending a moment searching for the right words to say. "So, I keep drinking. Drink until I forget everything. My name included." Her words slurred as she spoke slow, her thoughts slowly connecting as she spoke. As soon as the glass met the table, she picked it up, holding it close to her chest as if someone was going to take it from her. "I do not need you buying drinks for me. I don't need anything from you." She spat, rolling her eyes as she brought the drink to her lips, taking a long drink from the glass. Once she swallowed, she took another rather large drink and set the glass onto the bar. "Holy shit! What is in that?" She made a face and stuck out her tongue, not pleased with the taste of the liquid that had just ventured through her body. "Wow..that should definitely do the trick." She smiled the most genuine smile that she's shed in days. "That's nice...So what are you doing here?" Pam turned her attention once more to Fergal as she spun the bar stool around and stopped before she spun away from him, their legs touching ever so slightly.

Fergal clenched his jaw slightly as he listened to her slurred speech. He hadn't ever really seen her like this. They used to drink together, but she'd always been a happy drunk. This was a side of her he wasn't used to. He didn't like what she was saying, about wanting to forget her own name. Reckless Pam wasn't a version he knew. He swallowed thickly when she mentioned him not having to buy drinks for her. Explaining why would take longer than he wanted, so he opted for silence, taking another drink from his glass as he watched her do the same. He had to resist laughing when she made a face, though a ghost of a smile crossed his face. "What am I doing here?" He repeated, clicking his tongue like he needed to think about it. "Let's see, I've gotten into a fight what feels like almost every night I've been here. Gotta drink my feelings away somehow," He murmured, the last sentence coming out slightly bitter. His eyes shifted down for a moment when he noticed her knee hit his leg, then back up to her face. He could tell she'd feel her alcohol in the morning, but now wasn't the time to chastise her like a child.

Pam stared at him for a little bit too long. She’s realized she had been staring and looked away, her eyes locked on her drink. “Seems you’ve a problem. Perfectly good woman in a hotel room waiting on you..and you’re here drowning the sorrows that are hardly worth it. Cute really.” She laughed and grabbed onto the bar as soon as she felt she was beginning to lose her balance, though she truly wasn’t. “Then again, I don’t know your life. I hardly know you anymore. Forgive me for assuming. You could have plans to see your next play thing any minute now.” She shook her head while her eyes told the real story behind her words. While she was spewing any harsh or rude words her current struggling mind could muster, tears had filled her eyes. She did her best to fight them off and so far, she’s been succeeding. She looked back at him, the tears in the edge of her eyes visibly ready to fall any second. “I didn’t mean that..” she brought her drink to her lips, taking yet another long drink, her eyes never leaving him.

Pam's words swirled around in Fergal's brain, his grip on his glass tightening as she mentioned his girlfriend in passing. Thanks for that reminder, he thought, pushing down his urge to bark a response at her. His jaw flexed, his knuckles turning white around his glass now as she mentioned him having 'play-things'. He didn't degrade women in that way. For her to even assume so made him ticked off. Until he saw her eyes. She looked on the verge of tears. He stared back at her, silence falling thick between them. "You sure you didn't mean it? Sounded like it," He mumbled, draining the last of his drink. "Tell me more about how I treat women like play things." He sighed, the look on his face daring her to go there.

She looked away from him, unable to look at him any longer. She finished her drink and dropped the glass onto the bar. “You make them fall in love with you and your stupid perfect accent and gorgeous blue eyes. You’re like the devil. So hard to fight off. I lose my strength just fighting every urge to kiss you every time I see you. You sweet talk and show affection..until you’re over it. Or at least until you meet someone new. Then you drop them.” She looked back at him, licking her lips to collect the tears that had settled there. “You give them a baby..but take everything else away. When they would do anything for you.” Pam closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. “I loved you. No. I am in fucking love with you. And that will never matter. Because you had to go and be a stupid guy. You had to just walk away when I had been there since the second you walked your perfectly god like fucking self into the Performance Center. Why? Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” By now, the tears had started flowing and no matter how hard she tried, they wouldn’t stop.

As Pam dropped her empty glass on the counter, Fergal signalled to the bartender he'd like another. He knew she didn't need any more. Her words stunned him, and he couldn't help but just stare at her, his eyebrows slightly raised and eyes widened as he just took it all in. Pam was absolutely hammered. He noticed tears falling down her face, and resisted reaching out to wipe them away. It was his second nature to comfort his friends, and Pam was no different. Hearing her finally say it out loud... he was floored. She really was in love with him still. Through the tears and alcohol, he could tell it was real. "Oh, Pam," He sighed softly, biting the inside of his lip. "It was never you not being good enough. You're amazing," He murmured, his voice low as they talked. He slowly extended his arm to gently rub her back. He wanted to hug her but he didn't think it'd go well. "I'm stupid. It was never you. You were perfect. I didn't know what the fuck I wanted. You made me happy though, so happy. A relationship and a career were never harmonious for me though. I thought that we'd be different, that I'd found someone who understood me... but in the end I was the one who pushed you away. I've never felt I could have both at the same time. I'm full of self sabotage," He admitted, finally speaking on something he'd been holding onto for a long time.

Pam kept her eyes closed as she listened to him speak, shaking her head. “No. No. No.” she opened her eyes finally, tears never ceasing to quit. “I...I. Me. I c-could give you both. Don’t you get it? We want and have the same career. I-I would drop my career. I told you I would. I would have left for that..our baby. I would have just walked away and never looked back to raise our baby. I..just don’t know how to f-fix this.” She slid forward on the stool, hiding her face in his chest. “It’s should be me. It should have always been me.” She slapped her fist against his chest, though not in a way that she sought to hurt him.

It absolutely broke Fergal to see her cry like this. It got ten times worse when he actually had to look into her teary eyes. He tried again and again to swallow the lump in his throat, but he couldn't. His hands rested on her arms, the pressure firm, mainly just holding her upright so he could look at her. "I don't want you to give up your career for me. You're fucking talented, Pam. I would have loathed myself for making you stop and take care of a child. You're right, maybe we were meant to be; maybe I missed my chance." He swallowed thickly, pausing to down a good portion of his drink, the burn helping clear his throat. He hated seeing her so distraught. Love did wonderful things, but hell, the bad things were horrific. "I wish I knew how to fix it too. I don't know if there is a fixing it, Pammie...." He sighed.

She lifted her head from his chest, her nose brushing against his cheek. “I would have done it because I wanted to. That’s what I wanted. You. A family with you.” Pam sniffled and did her best to collect herself, though silent tears fell from her cheeks as a fairly rapid pace. “I will always want you. And there will always be a chance. I love you. I want you. I want us.” She picked up the glass the bartender set on the table for Fergal and took a small sip before turning back to him. “It should have always been me..still could be. Maybe. You have made me so damn happy. You still do even when I’m miserable. Like right now. You are so hurt..and it’s my fault. But..you get it. And that’s all I’ve been asking for. For you to just see how in love with you I am. Please..don’t keep tearing us apart.” She reached for his hand, nervous as to what his reaction may be.

Pam's words really shook Fergal to his core. Being this close to her again felt strange. Realizing she wanted them, as a family.... he didn't know what to do with that information. He reached up, brushing away some tears from her face. He hated seeing women cry, especially women he cared for. "I love you too Pam," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes darted over to his drink as she stole some from his glass, which made his lips turn up in the corners. He remembered a similar situation when they would go out drinking together. He let her take his hand, their palms warm against each other. Just simply holding her hand took him back; it hurt his heart to have to say what he did. "I don't want to tear us apart, Pammie. We're always going to be together... but I can't just leave Yasmine... I really do love her. And I love you too. I can't have both though... you know that..."

His touch against her cheeks caused Pam to cover his hand with her own. Her eyes locked onto his as she did so. The simple contact of holding hands gave Pam more hope than she should have allowed. The smile grew on her face almost immediately as she looked up at him with so much hope and happiness. Then he took that away...again. “I..what?” She pulled away from him. “You admit that you love me too..and then completely shit on me. Being here for years even after you broke my heart just means nothing.” She shook her head, defeated and heartbroken once again. She dug into her pockets before tossing a twenty onto the bar as she stood up. “Years! You got me in bed..we started this whole mess. And then you dropped me. I still loved you. I lost our baby! Our baby, Devitt. You came back..only to drop me again. If I was good enough or I meant even the slightest bit, you would fix this! Instead of putting your so called, best friend, through the worst pain of their life. Fuck you.,go to hell.” The tears rushed beyond her eyelids. She wanted to go. To run and never look back, but her body betrayed her, her legs stiff at the joints. “I love you. Damnit Fergal. I’m fucking in love with you. And it won’t go away.” She’d lost her balance and slipped down to the floor, landing perfectly on her ass as she sat on the floor beside him, her face hidden against the bar as she cried.

Fergal swallowed hard, unable to move the lump that had reformed in his throat. He hated this. She was beyond upset. He knew nothing he would say would calm her down; hell, it would probably only upset her more. But he knew this was what he had to do. He loved Yasmine. He also loved Pam, but he couldn't just dump Yasmine to run back to Pam.... it didn't feel right. As much as he loved her, he couldn't love her how she wanted to be loved. Not anymore. He knew that would be hard for her to grasp. He looked at her sadly, her words cutting him deep as she told him to go to hell. As she fell into a heap on the floor, he knelt, hovering near her, unsure what to do. He couldn’t just leave her like this. 

“I really just can’t believe you. You’re not the man I knew. I don’t care anymore about this bullshit friendship. I never want to talk to you again.” The words finally came out as she pushed him away from her. She held onto the bar stool and pulled herself to her feet, immediately turning around and walking out of the bar. She had stumbled more ham she walked straight, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about much at the rate she was going. She was done and over everything. Her career, her life, even the fact that she was alive and enduring the unbearable pain that she would never be good enough. Finally, she reached the elevator, pressing the up button. She stood, wobbly on her feet, before she leaned forward against the wall. With her eyes closed, she cried, uncontrollably and loud.